Monday, June 28, 2010

Lost the Mojo

I've lost it. My mojo, that is. I used to have it. I used to carry it with me wherever I went. Now-a-days, it's like searching for the Lost City of Atlantis. I see trace evidence of it, but can't seem to pinpoint the actual location.

And I really need my mojo. Last night it would have came in real handy. I was at a Fourth of July celebration. I am standing in line, waiting for a greasy sand which that promised long hours of heartburn, when a rather handsome gentlemen spoke to me. I looked over my shoulder to see who he was addressing. He spoke again, and I gave him my best smile. Unfortunately, I ended up looking constipated. If I'd had my mojo, that would never had happened.

This past week, I could have really went far with my mojo firmly in hand. I ran into a guy that I've had a crush on for years now. He's one of those men you admire from afar. You know the type: tall, handsome man with the type of grin that makes the panties melt off. He has big brown eyes. The kind that look at you and make you contemplate how gifted your children will be. Whenever I've seen him date, it's usually with the leggy, gorgeous types. I don't think he'd go for me. I still haven't mastered the whole walking without tripping over dead air thing.

But, if I'd had my mojo, I wouldn't care about any of that. With my mojo, I would have walked up to him, cocked my head to one side, and grinned a fabulous grin that said, "Hey there! Yeah, I know, you want me." Instead, I mumbled something and gave him my famous I-ate-something-that-now-is-making-my-stomach-bubble look. Not very impressive.

I was thinking about calling the police and have them search for my mojo. Perhaps they could issue a psuedo-Amber alert for it. Maybe even telecast a public service announcement. I could have George Clooney star in it.

"Hello. I'm George Clooney. You may know me as the super sexy doctor from ER. Right now, I want to talk to you about a serious matter. You see, this young lady has lost her mojo. Mojo is important to all of us. Without it, we are unable to date. Which means, we are unable to have sex. Please, help this single mother of two find her mojo. No one wants her to become an old hag that collects cats. Think of her children. Thank you for your time."

I think I'll give George a call....

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

PRN Position Available. Apply Within

"I would really like to be your boyfriend," he said to me. "We'd be good together."

"You're a great guy," I told him. "But, I'm not ready for all that."

"How do you know unless you try?" He asked.

"Because I know. Trust me, it's not you. It's me."

And there that is. I promised myself I would never use that phrase. It has been used on me before, and it left me feeling so frustrated and rejected that I wanted to snap the guy's neck like a toothpick. But, I didn't know what else to say. There is absolutely no other explanation at this point in the game.

I don't really have time for a full time steady. I don't even know if I have time for a part time steady. Am I supposed to look at this like I would employment?

Ok. So, part time is 15-20 hours a week......Full time is at least 40 hours a week with the possibility of overtime. I just can't swing it. Maybe I should try to find a guy who's looking for a prn position in my life. Ya know, mostly nights, weekends, and an occasional holiday.

Excellent benefits though.

So, I know what I am going to do. I am going to put an ad out in the classifieds. Not the personals. I am going to submit the ad under General Employment. It will read something like this:

PRN Position available for a
single male. Must have a
strong back, easy going personality,
ability to make others laugh, and patience.
Preferance will be given to those who attend
church and have children. Hours will vary
depending on the schedule of the
employer. Benefits discussed at a later date.
Apply by phone or in person.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


I'm a little skittish these days. I want to put my foot into the dating pool, but I'm not quite ready to feel how hot the water is. I don't like the feeling of being burned. No one does. So, I have to wrestle with the question of whether or not the search for finding that special someone is worth the risk of running into the ones that aren't that special at all.

I wasn't always this way. Along time ago, I was the heart breaker. And I definitely broke a lot of hearts. Maybe karma is trying her best to show me what getting your heart trampled on feels like. If that is the case, she can stop now. It only took one time to show me. I don't need a concession of heartbreaks, thank you very much.

I went out on date Saturday night. I went out on my "perfect date". Meaning, we cuddled up on the couch and watched horror movies. We laughed and talked. I enjoyed myself so much that I went back out with him on Sunday out to eat. Laughing and talking followed. He's a nice guy. Laid back and relaxed, just the way I like them. I have known him since high school, so he's not a total stranger to me.

The problem is is that I am coming out of a ten year relationship. Ten years of carrying the weight of someone else. Ten years of answering to someone else. Ten years of walking around on my tip toes; afraid to anger my significant other. Cautious of his feelings; unable to speak my mind. I feel like I have been in shackles for so long, that I'm still trying to rub the imprints off of my ankles. I am just not quite ready to go out and get a brand new pair.

There is also the fact that I still have not gotten back on my feet. I don't really have anything to offer anyone else. At this point in the game, I am nothing more than good company. Good for a laugh and an ear when someone needs to chat.

I don't want to string anyone along. My friend told me that if someone (anyone) likes me, they'll wait out my skittishness. He said I was worth the wait. And I agree with him. I am a fabulous catch.

But, I kind of feel sorry for the next man that happens to catch me and shackle me down. He is going to get an out spoken girl who's a little quirky.

And I ain't changing for no one.

Attack of the Killer Cow

I have not always been afraid of cows. One upon a time, I viewed these massive creatures as a sweet and innocent food source. I never saw them for what they really are- demon possessed beasts that are out to destroy me and all that I hold near and dear.

Years and years ago, back when I was adventurous and did not have children that asked endless questions, I dated a young man. This young man was a sweet thing and only a few years older than me. Together, we made up a sweet, young, and adventurous couple. Like most teens, we had issues when we wanted to be alone. "Your place or mine?" really didn't apply to us. So, we had to get creative.

Driving around one evening, we decided to take a blanket out to the edge of a corn field. Sensing my apprehension, my date promised me that the spot was secluded. "Nothing but you, me, and the cows," he informed me. "It'll be totally private." I happily agreed.

It actually was a romantic spot. I remember it being a cloudless night. There were stars everywhere. I laid in his arms for a good while as we talked about what we wanted out of life. At fifteen, what you want is basically everything. I eventually tired of the conversation; so we started to fool around.

So, here I am, with my adventurous-free-living-self, looking down at my boyfriend and thinking life doesn't get any better than this. Then it hit me, life doesn't get any better than this because I am about to die. Every horror movie that I had ever seen came to mind as I slowly turned around to see what was breathing down the back of my neck.


I screamed bloody murder. I did not give my sweet boyfriend a chance to ask what was wrong. I shot up like a lightening bolt and took off across the corn to the car. I left behind my blanket, my clothes, and my boyfriend.

I haven't liked cows since.