captain horndog, resident corndog

Every relationship I've ever (and I do mean ever) been in has eventually devolved into an endless stream of corndog innuendo. Romance and sexy (actually sexy) flirtation - so I know you're capable of it, boys - wears away over the weeks, months and years and suddenly I can't even talk about my day without an idiotically suggestive response.

Here's a tip: If, for instance, I've just confessed that my children/coworker/neighbor/asshole Walmart cashier make me want to scream, it is not a good idea to chuckle and say, "Baby, I got something to make you scream later..."

And if I say I have a tip, don't tell me you've "got a tip for me," followed by a creepers eyebrow jiggle. 'Cuz I know that's what you're thinking.

For cripe's sake, it's what you're always thinking.

Try this instead. Zip your lips, listen to what I'm saying, act like you give a damn and go jiggle something else later. Lotion's in the cabinet by the sink.

This might be the response you want,

but it is so not the response you're going to get.

photo cred: Erin Z

we all fall down

Boys make you fall in love. And then they tell you they just want to be friends. In an email.

chivarly ain't dead (unless you just killed it)

We went to a concert in the sketch part of town...well, not exactly sketch...just the part of town that a single lady like myself doesn't want to be stumbling around in the darkness where who-knows-what awaits. And we met there because that was easier than trying to coordinate a pick-up and delivery.

After the concert was over...after we had sat for several hours in the darkness laughing and talking to one another in close quarters and sharing little touches here and there...we walked outside to leave. You were parked just on the side of the building in the bright white light of the fluorescents. I had to park out back. Out behind the bar. Out where there were no bright white fluorescent lights. Out in the darkness. Out where there are shadows and possibly shadowy characters.

And instead of walking me to my car, you hugged me quick like I was your least favorite cousin and got in your car before I'd even stepped onto the gravel lot. Left me standing there like I'd been in a hug-and-run incident and cranked your car while I shuffled through the darkness to my car. I thought maybe - just maybe that you'd be waiting at the exit to make sure I made it out safely, but when I rounded the corner, you were gone. Like you'd burnt rubber to get out of that lot fast enough.

That's the kind of shit boys do.