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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…

Splash!

“Piss on all my exes!”

The stick figure held his tiny twig and a stream shot forth across the rear window, presumably showering the women who dared reject the gleaming white Cadillac’s driver.

I wondered if he had a Ms Current — and if she was soon to be bathing in his imaginary golden waterfall.

If so, why? Whose self-image is so lacking she hangs on his arm?

And, if not, has he considered that his advertisement could be the reason only his hand keeps him warm at night?

RAWWRRR! Bring It On!

Slowly, and almost invisibly, they began their assault. First two – then a third and a fourth – I easily dispatched them and whisked the poor souls along the expressway to their afterlives.

And it was done…

…or so I thought. Only moments later, I was embroiled in a full scale invasion!

They were everywhere! Mouth agape, I watched in horror as they marched forward, attacking from points I would only have imagined they’d have found.  As the battlefield grew black…and blacker…and blacker, I realized a physical fight would leave me vanquished.  So I scoured my meager resources, set traps to slow the onslaught – and retreated.

As morning dawned, I carefully – and oh, so stealthily – approached so as to not alert them to my return.

But they were gone. Only remaining were those who’d drowned lapping up the sugary concoction – laced with Borax – with which I’d merely hoped to slow their onslaught until I could call an exterminator.

I am woman; hear me roar!

Ants fear me!

And I’m kicking me some spider ass next!

Who the hell needs a man?

You’re Welcome :-)

Guys, I’m sharing this especially for you.

Ladies, many of these apply to us as well.

Enjoy…and learn.

http://johnnywebber.com/ultimate-list-of-45-man-tips/