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Wanted: Wife?

Men, I get it.

So far this morning I’ve: done my banking, paid bills, washed the car and filled its tank, gone grocery shopping (then brought everything home, unloaded the trunk and put it all away), taken my critters to the groomer and gone to the dry cleaners. Fortunately, I didn’t have to do the laundry, clean the house or take care of the lawn. Thank goodness for housekeepers and gardeners.

I understand why you live longer when you get a wife. All you have to do is put in your 40 hours. Hell, your wife does that on a long weekend. During the week, she likely puts in as many hours taking care of your ass–and your spawn–as you do at work. And, if she has a job outside the home, oy vey… Yeah, I know–compromise, sharing household duties, blah blah bullshit–I’ve heard it all and it really does sound good, in theory. To top it all off, you get laid regularly and by the same person.

Dayum, if I were a man, I’d get me one of them there wives, too.

Alas, I was born with parts that exempt me from a career as a husband; I’d get the shitty end of the marriage stick. Uh, no thanks.

But, you know, maybe I can have the groceries delivered and hire a hunky personal assistant to handle everything else (uh, including me). I could get all the benefits of being a husband–without the worry of drama, community property and spousal support.

I think I’m on to something here…

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See Ya!

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“Well every woman should try to be whatever her man wants her to be.” (Marvin Gaye)

Hmmm…

I have a better suggestion. Perhaps every woman should try to be whatever the hell she wants to be. And if that’s not what you want, don’t be doggone.

Be long gone.

One Is Good; Two, Even Better

One Is Good; Two, Even Better

“Mmmm…Butter Pecan or Chocolate Praline? Oh, my – I love them both; how do I choose only one? What the hell, I can’t. Just give me two scoops – one of each – please.”

“You know, teal is one of my favorite colors; I have so many suits with which I can pair that shirt. But the maroon is absolutely gorgeous on me, as well. It brings out the mahogany undertones of my complexion. I’ll take them both. Thank you.”

“Hanukkah…or Christmas? My girls and I are Jewish. But the rest of the family calls that other holiday ‘the reason for the season.’ However, celebration is a good thing – you know, the more the merrier! We do both.”

My name is PD…and I’m a double-dipper.

So many women go to incredible lengths to find the loves of their lives – bars, online dating sites, friends. They dress up to impress and dress down to do bugs, dirt and sleep on the ground. They color, cut, weave. They torture themselves with jeans so tight they can’t breathe (in the hope they will take his breath away), stilettos they pray won’t drop them on their asses and even – ugh – underwire bras to make their headlights flash their high beams. All this for…him. That one love who’ll enhance their existence and make their hearts sing.

And some of us double-dip.

Very early in my life, in fact, I’d just barely tipped over that line marking the age of majority, I found Mr Right. He was that proverbial tall, dark and handsome man of mystery hiding behind a bushy mustache and beneath a bright red “sly hat” that made me giggle. His mind was even more brilliant than that hat; on each date we solved another of the world’s many problems. We shared the same values. And together we double-dipped in the progeny pool; we created two phenomenal daughters. His loss was devastating; the world will never know what it missed, but our girls and I know all too painfully well.

Convinced I’d never fall in love again, I was blindsided years later when another proverbial tall, dark and handsome man of mystery hiding behind a bushy mustache entered my life. We shared the same values, the same profession and he made me laugh, despite the absence of a floppy red hat. At that first of many meetings, he sat across from me at my desk and delineated what he expected my role to be – as I let him know what it would be. Mr Intractable resisted my persistent attempts to set him up with my single girlfriends, as he had other plans. He convinced me to remove my shell and take that second dip in love’s pond. Alas, he is also no longer with us, but the love he left in his wake daily lifts me, makes my toes tingle…and my heart sing.

And all I can say to the universe is “Thank you, Thank you.”

My True Love? Me.

A friend posted this photo to my FaceBook feed today; it puzzled me. Why would the first day of Christmas be different from any other? On that day, as I do every day, I’ll give myself — me.

T-Shirt

Mmmm

A blustery, biting Simi Valley night…holiday lights dancing…mellifluous wind chimes caroling…tootsies toasting in front of the blazing hearth.

What a perfect night for a double dose of hot chocolate:  rum-spiked Valrhona cocoa and a Rosewood marathon.

Yum…

Bravo!

Oh, the talent…the skill…the passion. A friend shared an incredible musical performance to my Facebook feed this morning. As I watched and appreciated the moans, squeals and screams the cellists’ fingers coaxed from their stringed lovers, all of me fantasized only one thing…

…and now I need a smoke.

Enjoy!

Was It As Good for You As It Was for Me?

Old Bitch, New Tricks

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There is clearly a bone-biting chill whooshing through hell this morning.

I am my own woman; I dress for me. What is fashionable is irrelevant. What coordinates well with whatever else is of no import. Which designer duds will make my girlfriends pickle-up with envy does not make my clit twitch. Whatever speaks to Bertha Butt and whispers “you’re going to feel really good in me today”  is what comes out of my closet. As long as it passes the sniff test and it’s absent spots on the boobage, off we go.

As I dressed for work this morning (on a casual Saturday, no less), I mused “wonder if I’ll run across — as opposed to my usual over — any interesting men today?” Lula, my subconscious (you met her in See I Told You So), whispered “I can make that happen for you, dahling.

So, I — Ms Rabidly-independent-I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass-what-you-think — caved.

And I dressed accordingly.

I’m melting! Oh, what a world…what a world…