Kindness

For the last week and a half I've had a little problem with a man I met recently. It's one I've never faced before.

Kindness.

We met on Halloween and connected immediately. We were both in costume - him with white and bloody zombie makeup covering his face. We danced and talked and danced some more. I felt good around him. Happy.

We talked about seeing each other again and I said yes even though his face was still a mystery. He had a kind soul - and I didn't even need eyes to know that. 

Since then we've been out three times. Each time we had conversations - ones where we both talk and listen. Two hours will pass over a meal and we won't have had a quiet moment. He's considerate and respectful of me and of others. He opens my car door and rinses off dinner dishes. And he has a strong but gentle touch. 

Most of all I can depend on him. When he says he'll call he does. If he's running late he lets me know. So many people don't, and never care about who's feelings they hurt.

One of the most telling signs of his kindness is his relationships. Friends and family are important. He has friends from his childhood and from recent years, and he sees them often. He enjoys being social and meeting new people. When he went to a friend's birthday party with me he met and talked with everyone there. He's also close to his brothers and parents.

These sound like the simplest things, but people so rarely do them. My ex and other men I've dated cared mainly about themselves - how they could impress people and what they could get from the relationship rather then what they could give. As a result, I don't know how to handle kindness. Its hard to know what to say or do.

What happens when you put two givers together? I'm not talking about doormat givers but rather strong people who often put others' needs first - especially if they're in real need. 

The other day he told me how much he likes me. I told him I like him too, but the next words fell out of my mouth by themselves.

"I hope I don't disappoint you." I immediately wanted to take them back. Disappointing him is the last thing I want to do, but I don't want to seem weak or needy.

His kind response surprised me again. "You haven't been told often enough how beautiful you are." 

From what I've seen so far, he's the one who's beautiful - inside and out.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

I was kissed by a vampire on Halloween

At least that's what I'm told. Halloween night doubled with a friend's birthday party. We had yummy Tex-Mex before the real birthday/ Halloween party at the pub around the corner.

I confess, I had a beer and two margaritas with dinner. I only planned for one margarita but a guy at the bar sent a round over. The margaritas were really strong, and it doesn't take much for me, but I swear on the tallest pile of Halloween candy I can reach I absolutely do not remember the vampire kiss.

Someone told me at my other friend's birthday party the next night that she heard I was making out with the vampire. Then two people said they saw me. I don't not believe them, and I remember the vampire well.  He was nice looking but the eyeliner, hair and costume ensemble looked like he stepped out of Duran Duran in the mid 1980s. And he was way too friendly for my taste.

And I remember everything else well too. I remember having one drink - a vodka cranberry - because the bartender said they didn't have pumpkin-flavored anything. I remember all of the birthday girls' friends I had never met before (the vampire was one of them), their costumes and all of the photo taking. I also remember the fun band and meeting one of the band members - an amazing guy I'll write more about soon.

So if the vampire did kiss me and I don't remember, it had to be one of these that happened:

1) His kiss was so forgettable I blocked it out.
2) It didn't really happen.
3) I was too distracted by the guy in the band 
4) The vampire cast some sort of spell to make me forget

Whatever happened, I'm glad it was only once, and it won't happen again.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Being a free spirit

It's taken me a long time to embrace the fact that I'm a free spirit. Friends back in high school noticed as have good friends today.Society's norms don't matter to me. I do what feels right.

But being a free spirit isn't always easy. It's why I've had some bad relationships. It's why my friends are all so different. Many of them don't conform to what society expects either - each in his or her own way. I tend to adapt to them when we're together, and that freaks some people out.

The main part of my journey to recover from my last bad - and very long relationship - is rediscovering who I am. Freeing my spirit again. But I also want to tame it enough to work.

I'm also learning to not accept situations when people don't treat me well and with respect. But I have a hard time letting people know when things aren't right. I'd rather just accept their behavior and then walk away if and when it gets to be too much. This isn't right though and I'm trying to get better.

There are experiments and missteps along the journey. I've made mistakes. Many of them. Some of them end up on this blog. It's how I process problems and figure out solutions. I'll make more mistakes. I promise. And I also promise to try to deal with them better. And I hope my true friends find forgiveness if I go too far.

Here's to hoping everyone lets their spirit be free.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Sleeping through

Sleep has always been something to do when I'm tired. It usually happens between midnight and 7 in the morning - give or take an hour or two. Very rarely do I miss out on something because I'm sleeping.

Others do though. I saw it happen when I was on vacation recently.

The man in the middle seat on my flight home was chatting with the guy on the aisle who was a pilot for the airline and flying in uniform. It turned out the wife of the guy in the middle was a flight dispatcher, so they talked shop. They talked about the strange flight paths they have to take when they fly non-rev. But middle seat guy was on the flight with me because he slept through his last connection at the gate. He even told the pilot on my row he'd be asleep before the jet reached 10,000 feet.

He was right. But we were still taxiing to our runway when his head started bobbing and  the snores came. We weren't even off the ground yet and nowhere near 10k feet.

On my cruise with my friends a couple of weeks ago, one of the three of us missed a couple of evenings out because she opted for sleep. Those were some fun nights. We made some memories but she wasn't with us and we missed her. She was tired though.

I had to laugh. I was writing a blurb for a magazine about our cruise late one night. I was on the sofa with my laptop. This is what I found on my screen when I woke up:

"We have heard the term “trbe” ay times. It’sttrue ddddddddddddddddddd"

Speaking of sleep, I've missed a little sleep during my Breaking Bad marathon over the last few weeks,Sometimes sleep just isn't the top priority.We can always sleep next week.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

I confess. I'm hooked.

I'm totally addicted to Breaking Bad. Facebook exploded with comments about the show every week during each season, but I had never watched it until about six weeks ago when a friend played the pilot for me.

One taste and I was hooked. I recorded the final season and planned to catch the rest of the series on Netflix.Then AMC had a marathon leading up to the series finale. the 60-odd shows filled my DVR. And it's filled my days ever since. I know I'm addicted to it because I can't make it through a day without watching one. I haven't been going out as often, so some days I can watch a couple. Sometimes I stay up too late. The way each show ends makes it hard to not start the next one.

Breaking Bad isn't just a TV show. It's an epic story that makes me question the character of everyone I know. Walt, the main character, is someone everyone liked at the beginning. Six seasons and just over a year in TV time changed everything. He changed from a desperate man trying to survive to a el diablo who also brought his wife down and put his kids in danger. It makes me wonder what lawyers really do, what's going on behind the scenes at the car wash and where my high school chemistry teacher ended up.

The show helps me understand why I tend to go for the bad boys. I adore Jesse. He's hopelessly flawed and bad luck follows him. He starts out a drug-addicted loser and turns into a hero.

There are four episodes left. Since it's a show full of unexpected twists and turns I don't know what to expect. But I'm going to sleep now and will find out soon.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Consistently inconsistent

A couple of months ago I met a guy. He lives in the next state. And we hit it off over the weekend we met. He made me promise I would call him that week, and I did. I always do what I say I'll do. Since then, we've spent two really fun weekends together 

One thing I really liked about him was that he told me how much he believes in good communications. And we did communicate. During those three days I was at his place, we talked about the relationships we came from, where we are in life and how we felt about each other. We texted and talked for the next week.

Then he went dark. I didn't hear a word for about 10 days. I heard something happened that embarrassed him - something he had to deal with and  he wasn't ready for me to hear about it.

Then he came back. It was like we had talked that morning. He told me what happened and it was okay. I understood. He called me sweetheart and the communication was back. We both looked forward to seeing each other again.

Then we spent an amazing weekend together at my place. We were relaxed. He was affectionate and called me sweetheart. We talked about a couple of weekend trips over the next two months. After his three-hour drive home, he called and told me what a great time he had and he looked forward to the next visit. I did too.

That was the last I heard from him in three weeks. Another communication blackout.

After his visit, he went on vacation and I did as well. We agreed to talk before his vacation, but I didn't hear from him, I texted. Then I texted about the first of our weekend trips we talked about. It's less than two weeks away now but we haven't confirmed plans or bought tickets. I've only texted three times since his visit. Would a phone call be worth while before giving up?

I agree with him that communication is important, but, to me, consistent is part of that equation.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

The worst 6 words a single girl could hea

I think I heard the worst possible six words any single girl could hear at the start of a Caribbean cruise last week. The little getaway was with two of my non-single good girlfriends who are always on the lookout for a match for me.

We hadn't been on the ship for long when I popped down to check the time of our dinner reservation. A man in front of me had the same question. When the maitre d' asked if he was with a group, the man spoke the six horrifying words.

 "I'm with the group of priests."

Only I would be on the cruise with the majority of the single male passengers actually being attached to God.

I shared this with couple of friends who suggested they may not be Catholic priests. To me it makes no difference. I'm not the minister's wife type. 

Honestly I wasn't looking to meet someone on the cruise. It was a girl trip. A chance to relax and have fun away from guys. Perhaps it was a little divine intervention to make that happen.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

What's the best way to let a guy down?

What are the best ways to let someone know you're not interested? I'm not talking about breaking up with someone you've been going out with for months. This is a just a step or two after the first time you meet someone and know right off there's nothing there.

This is what you say to someone after seeing them a time or two. You've spent just enough time with him to see the red flags pop out. Maybe he talks too much about himself. Even if it's interesting talk, I say it's a deal breaker. Then he's the guy that turns into an animal the first moment you're alone together. To many hands!

So what do you say when they call and text about wanting to go out again? I try being busy and hope if I'm busy long enough they'll give up. But my bad date from a few weeks ago kept coming back. I was busy at least three weekends in a row and it didn't seem to matter. He kept coming back.

I want back and forth on what to say. Should I tell him I'm seeing someone else? I kind of am, but is it really any of his business? My friend pointed out that he might get the wrong idea. Considering his ego, he would think if I hadn't picked the other guy I would've picked him, As I told my friend, I would rather spend every night in my apartment with Lucy than with him.

I don't want to be too vague or too bitchy or too passive. So what do you say to end it before it starts?  

Love to the single girls,
Addison

I believe in freedom

I believe adults in America should be free to do what they want as long as it doesn't hurt others. That includes smoking, drinking and eating too much ice cream - and most any of those habits people pick up.

Smoking especially is a common and also very social thing. I've never seen people interact as much as they do in the smoking culture. They'll even ask perfect strangers for a cigarette or a light. Would you ever ask a stranger for a french fry or bite of steak off their plate?

I'm not a smoker, and I truly don't mind when people smoke if they're polite smokers. I have asthma so I have to be careful around it.

Something interesting happened though that continues to bother me a week later. My friend who visited for the weekend recently is a smoker. A polite one. He smokes outside, picks up the butts and never smokes around someone while they're eating. He brushes his teeth after smoking - especially if kissing is involved. He even opens car doors and is a perfect gentleman.

But as polite as he is, there's one really bad habit. Right after sex - like within 15 seconds - he has to have a cigarette. And it's not like the 1940s movies when they could lounge in bed together and enjoy a cigarette. He has to go downstairs, put on clothes and go out on the balcony while I lay there. Alone. 

The first time I didn't think too much about it since he had to work all day, drive three hours and then go out. I'd probably need a cigarette after that day and some hot sex. By the third and fourth time, it bothered me - especially one time when i wasn't done yet.

My unscientific way of measuring when habits become addictions is when they get in the way of relationships. It could be a marriage or boss or family or friends. It could also be a new relationship like this one. We have a great time together, but I  don't want to be in bed alone when I'm not. We'll see how much of a gentleman he is next time.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

The longest breath before the kiss that never happened

This week I had the longest breath I've ever experienced. It lasted four days.

On Sunday, I picked up my long-time friend and first love from the airport. I hadn't seen him in more than a decade, and we hadn't been alone together for longer than two minutes since I was 19. That was when we were in love. Then he went home to England. Time passed and we both married. We didn't break up but we moved on and left things unfinished.

I didn't know what to expect when I saw him. We had dinner a couple of times and drinks another. He hung out with some of my friends and I met a few of his work colleagues. We talked for hours like we had just seen each other. We caught up on life. He saw my home and my neighborhood. He sincerely wanted to understand how I live. I told him what happened with my ex. He didn't understand how things like that happen to people like me.

The sexual tension wasn't strong, but it was there. There's no doubt he's committed to his wife, and I had absolutely no intention nor interest in betraying that. There would be no better way to break my heart - and his.

That four days was like the moment when you hold your breath in anticipation of a beautiful kiss.

But the kiss never happened.

On his last night, I dropped him off after dinner and drinks. We sat in my car in front of his hotel and said goodbye at least four or five times and promised we wouldn't go so long between visits. We hugged each time and kissed lightly on the lips. It was respectful. It was nice, like it's always been with him.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Habits

The other night I ventured out to enjoy a quiet dinner at my neighborhood sushi restaurant. Alone. It was an amazing fall evening and I wanted to sit on the patio and eat while I did some writing. So that's what I did.

Until the annoying man sat down three tables away.

I knew he was going to be a problem as soon as he arrived. The first thing he did was unfold his napkin and shake it. And he did it with the intensity it would take to snap at the most ginormous fly on the planet. But it went straight into his lap. . And the napkin pop triggered about 10 very loud sneezes. In a row. While  I was trying to enjoy my sushi. Gross.

Now that his napkin was in place, he was ready to prep his chopsticks. And he did in a way I've never seen it done before. Usually people will quietly rub them together to knock off any stray splinters. Well, this guy rubbed and tapped them so loud it was like a drummer in a band counting off the next song.

Yes, we see you, sir.

Are these habits? Things he does every day?

My eyes went from my salmon to my laptop screen and back. But you know when you can feel someone staring? Everyone's felt it. And he was. Awkwardly.

Finally the owner sat down with him. They talked about whatever - and the man had a really loud voice. But the owner left too soon.

And the man started talking to me!

"Can you believe what he just said to me?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and continued staring at my screen and typing. I had already mentioned him in the text conversation I was having with my friend.

"You look like you're working so hard," he said.

I nodded. "Yes, I am working."

"What are you working on?"

"Something I'm writing." I know. It was a bit of a cop out, but it was none of his business. And yes, I was working.

Then my pone wrang. It was my friend calling to rescue me. Amazing. Some day I hope to reach the point where I don't have to get rescued from men.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A hard harmony

Yesterday was one of the most emotionally difficult days of my life.

The first half of the day was the end of an amazing weekend with my new relationship - the first beginning of real relationship since the divorce. The first time I've ventured out beyond some quick fun. And the last half of the day was with my first love. The one I started falling for on my 17th birthday and never really got over.

In some odd quirk of life, the two events - the old and the new - met in harmony on the same day.

The entire weekend, I felt like my soul was exposed. I think I hid it well. During my new friend's visited, I focused completely on him. It was hard to keep from being distracted, but we had an amazing visit. The two of us get along so well. We shopped for things to decorate his new place and went out at night. And we stayed in too - catching me up on Breaking Bad season 1 just in time for the series to end, and the sex was really nice. We're comfortable with each other. He's easy going and gets along with most anyone. I like us together.

There were about two hours between visits - just enough time to try to pull myself together emotionally. But how do you prepare for a visit with your first love that you haven't seen since your honeymoon and who's now married and you're not?

Throughout the evening, I did my best to focus on the moment and not let my head go anywhere else. I picked him up from the airport and took him to his hotel. We had dinner and drinks afterwards until jet lag set in. The conversation never lagged. We talked about our visits with each other and caught up on the past decade-plus since we saw each other last. I asked him if he's happy and he said yes.

Today I'm an emotional wreck. Scattered. I try to concentrate on my work but end up staring out the window or pacing from one end of my little loft to the other. I'm filled with questions - all of the ones I wanted to ask last night but couldn't. Why do you want to spend every minute you're not sleeping or working with me? Does your wife know you're seeing me? Why do you really not want to see my sister - your good friend who lives 10 minutes from your hotel? Have you held on to that love all these years like I have?

Depending on the responses, I might get closure. I can handle it if he has totally moved on. On the other hand, his answers could leave me even more vulnerable. I have a hunch he still has feelings for me. If I hear it from him, my heart will break.

So I won't ask.

I added more time onto my jog this morning to burn off the tension, but that didn't work either. I'll try to make myself work and then write. But perhaps staring out the window is better.

Seeing my first love helped me realize something I've struggled with. For years I've wondered if I've changed - why I habitually pick the wrong guys. He reminded me that I haven't. I knew then who the right guys were and where to find them. I just seem to pick the wrong ones.

I'll see him at least once or twice before he goes back to home to Europe on Thursday, so the drama isn't over yet.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Do you have a narcissist in your life?

Lots of people do. A parent, partner, brother-in-law, boss or child. My brother-in-law and my ex are narcissists.  They're usually men, but not always.

They do always make your life hell.

I didn't know my ex was a narcissist until I saw a therapist. I needed to figure out where I went wrong - and how to get out of it alive. After I told her about him and our relationship, she pegged his behavior as classic narcissism. 

She recommended a book called Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited by Sam Vaknin that changed my life. It’s such a great book because it’s not written in medical terms since it’s by a PhD who’s not a mental health professional but is a narcissist. It’s written so that each chapter answers a frequently asked question. A few of the chapters dedicated to a question are:

How to Recognize a Narcissist

The Narcissist in the Workplace

The Spouse/Mate/Partner of the Narcissist

Narcissists and Children

The Extra-Marital Narcissist

Surviving the Narcissist

But there are 101 frequently asked questions. Yes, 101. There's a chapter for every situation you can think of. There are excerpts from the book on PDF on Smashwords. Amazon has a Kindle edition and the paperback.

Over the weekend, I shared the book title with two friends over lunch. Both have narcissistic brother-in-laws. I got an email back from one of them today that gave me chills. She passed it along to her sister who got it right away and found it helpful. Her sister's ex left her a voice mail at her office threatening to run her over. Fortunately they live in different states, but that doesn't make it any less frightening. Her sister called her the night before because she was having an anxiety attack. She felt like someone had been following her. Then that message from her ex was waiting for her when she arrived at work. 

One of the friends asked me why I let the marriage go on so long. I told her I was afraid to leave. The other friend, the one whose sister got the book, said she was amazed with the similarities in her sister's and my situation. 

The book explained so many mysteries for me and helped me leave. I hope it does for you.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

The truest test - seeing my first love

This morning I woke up to a text that was a shocker. It was from someone I've known since high school. The one I wrote about the other day as my something borrowed. My storybook first love.

He's going to be in town on business next week.

We met in a pub in England when I was celebrating my 17th birthday with my friends. He was very cute, and at the time he was 21. He and I, along with my sister and his friend, hung out as good friends the rest of the eight months we were there. Over the next two years, he visited the U.S. twice and our relationship grew to a romance. I was young and inexperienced and he was gorgeous and English. Why wouldn't I fall for him?

I still have the vivid memory of us standing in the hallway outside the bathroom in my parents' house. He wrapped his arms around me and we kissed. Then he said, "I love you." That wasn't the last time he said it. I hung onto those words even though the Atlantic Ocean and marriages kept us apart. I even wrote him as the love interest in my first novel.

I told my friend about it this morning. She suggested I should be on the other side of the United States. "You don't need that drama!!" she said.

To add to the drama, he arrives at the end of my new guy's first weekend visit - the one I really like. The whole scenario makes me want to stay inside the safe walls of my little loft with Lucy until then. I'm not sure I can handle what will happen over the next week, so any new drama and I'll be an emotional basket case.

My English friend and I are still friends and keep in touch by text, email and phone calls a few times a year. We've seen each other twice since my teens. Once I visited him and his wife alone. The next time was my honeymoon more than a decade ago. His wife is much nicer to me when I'm married. Actually, I think she despises me when I'm single.

My friend also said, "This has heartbreak written all over it!!!" She's right. I can't wait to see him, but avoiding the broken heart will be one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

It's got to be a sign

The funniest most bizarre thing happened yesterday morning while I walked through the parking garage to my client's offices. 

My shoe broke.

That by itself isn't that funny. What's so bizarre is that almost exactly one year ago I was with this same client wearing these same shoes and the heel broke. I was at their conference and I popped a balloon with my heel as a part of a breakout session activity. I wrote about it last year in I popped a balloon and became Cinderella.

I replaced those shoes with the same style and color, but the only pair close to my size at Nordstrom worldwide was a half size larger. One of the replacements was the shoe that broke today. 

These aren't cheap shoes. They're Michael Kors and cost in the $150 range.  And I have four pairs in different colors because I like them so much.

Now I can't help but wonder if this is a sign. This is my least favorite client and my favorite shoes, so perhaps the relationship is breaking at the very foundation - the soles of shoes. Perhaps it's time to move on. Or it just means I should wear different shoes.

The story has a happy ending. The shoe that broke last year was the left and today it was the right. Since I kept the good one, I now have a pair again. And I haven't popped a balloon with a heel since.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Something old, something new, something borrowed . . .

This old saying isn't just for brides. I know because I woke up this lovely Monday morning to texts from three guys from various chapters of my life - something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue (well not yet on the last one, but it's a matter of time).

My something old was a text from an long-time lover - the one I've written about many times (most recently in Resolve). He had a significant role in helping me gather the confidence and courage to leave my ex. I'm forever grateful to him for that. But, until his drive-by text early this morning, I hadn't heard from him in a month and that makes me sad. He said in the text, "Just thinkin about u." I do miss him though.

Something new is the guy I met a few weeks ago when he came down to help my good friend move. Meeting him was the only good thing that came out of her move to the next state. He texted about his next visit - hopefully this weekend.

Something borrowed is an interesting situation. He's my first love. I met him on my seventeenth birthday when I lived in England, and we've kept in touch ever since, but typically not more than once every few months. I've visited twice - once alone and once with my ex. Our friendship has survived my many loves and breakups. He married the woman he met after me - happily, I don't know. Now they have two kids. That's why I consider him borrowed. I have a HUGE update on this one that I'll post about soon. The text did something odd and I didn't receive what he actually sent. It's a shocker.

My blue hasn't happened yet, but I suspect it will soon when my bad date guy texts next. He doesn't seem to get that our date was a disaster, so he keeps texting and I keep being busy. I'm blue when I get this texts and he's probably blue when I don't respond. Well, maybe not.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

P.S. My blue did actually happen yesterday afternoon, but it wasn't from bad date guy. It was a text out of the blue from a guy I met very briefly walking down the sidewalk in my neighborhood. I'm not sure why I gave him my number. I was tired and in a rush and just did. He's texted one a week or so for a month now without any response from me.  

Lost identity

Over the weekend, I got to do something I love with people I enjoy. We were all fiction writers who came together to learn. Our companies didn't pay our way and we all gave up valuable weekend time to learn. We were there because we wanted to be.

Being there made me think about all of the people who give up things they used to enjoy when they were single but quit doing them once they had family commitments. Jobs, careers, daily exercise - or other things they're really committed to like music, art or writing. Some had to drop things they love because they honestly din't have time. It's all about priorities, and many girls can scale back on their children's activities so mommy can have a life.

What really breaks my heart is when I see a single girls settle into a relationship with a boyfriend and completely adapt to the boyfriend's life. Their schedule. Their hobbies. Their friends rarely see them and suddenly the brilliant painter has stopped painting to take up golf. "He wants us to do it together" or "He doesn't like it when I'm away from him." she'll say.

Sometimes it was a hobby but sometimes it was a career. But why? Why does any girl have to stop doing something they feel is important just because someone else suggests they do? Just because someone may not be getting enough attention?

Doing what you love is the best way to keep your identity - and your happiness.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Staring

The other night I sat alone for a while writing at a cafe on a somewhat busy street corner. It was evening commute time. At the same time, pedestrians were busy with their evening jogs and dog walks. The sidewalks and streets buzzed with activity.

What fascinated me was watching people in the cars stare at people jogging and walking their dogs. Car after car turned the corner and, as the drivers stared, their tires scraped the curb or they barely missed the car facing them waiting to turn. To add to the chaos, a few talked on their phone while they stared - and tried to drive. Those people were a real disaster.

I sat there and laughed. When my friend arrived, he didn't notice, but I pointed out each driver who stared.

Why does it take so little to catch someone's stare? Do they think we don't notice? Are we that starved for entertainment? Do we have to have visual stimulation every second? How would they feel if that girl being gawked at was their girl friend or wife or daughter? Or maybe they're all so obnoxious they don't have any girls in their lives.

Then the next morning while I jogged, a truckload of landscapers drove up the street next to me. The truck moved exactly at my speed - and I only do about 6.4 mph - not exactly the speed a truck would normally drive. They did this for about two blocks. I refused to look over. One time they even stopped when they got ahead of me. That one was beyond annoying. It was just plain creepy.

Love to to the single girls,
Addison

I'm afraid to listen

Last night I got a text from the guy I had the disastrous date with weekend before last.

"Hi there!" the text said.

I didn't respond because I was in the middle of dinner with my friend. Okay, I probably wouldn't have responded anyway. To rationalize it, the text didn't ask a question or really need a response. Right?

Then he texted again first thing this morning. It was the first contact (besides a few emails delivered during the night) I had with a human today.

This one said "Good morning :)"

This one didn't ask a question or really need a response. And I dove into work as soon as I woke up anyway - too busy for personal stuff. But then about 45 minutes later, he called. I watched my phone ring. His name was splashed across the screen, and I ignored it. He left a voice message and I'm afraid to listen to it.

I thought I could let it sit for a bit while I did some work and then I'd be okay listening. Then after my run I'd listen. I didn't, and I still haven't. I don't like confrontation. And I certainly don't like telling someone I'm not interested in them. But I also don't like lying to him about why I don't want to see him - or even communicate with him. He's clueless the evening was a disaster, and I have a hunch he won't go away easily.

Maybe writing this will make be brave enough to listen. I'll update this when (and if) I listed to it. Promise.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

P.S. So I listened to the message. He wanted to make sure I got the texts and said he'd call me tonight. So...what to say...

Leaf blowers

I've never really understood the purpose for using leaf blowers. All they do is blow leaves and grass clippings off of one piece of property onto another or into the street. Unless someone picks up what's being blown around they just move stuff from one place to another.

Then it hit me this morning while I watched workers blowing leaves. Some people are just like leaf blowers.

They blow their drama, their problems and egos around transferring them from one place to another but never making them go away.

Some people I know use girls night as a therapy session. They create drama and problems in their lives then it all gets spread around to other people. If a person's not going to solve their own problem, how can someone else do it for them? Seriously?

The other day, a woman who had committed to take part in the event I'm in charge of backed out.  She got her big-girl panties all twisted up because she wasn't getting enough attention. She blew her ego around so much that she ended up packing up her toys and going home.

Bye-bye.

I don't understand these people or how they get away with blowing their bullshit from one place to another rather than cleaning it up themselves.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Stuck in a moment

Over the weekend I watched an episode of Dr. Who, and there's one scene that stuck with me.

The land's emperor asked his doctor for the time. The doctor answers that it's 5:02 p.m. It also happens to be April 22, 2011. And it's this same date and time, day or night, every day. When the emperor questions why, the doctor says, "It's always been the same. Why should it start bothering me now?"

I'll tell you why. Because if you're stuck in the same date and time for eternity, it's just wrong. For god's sake, question it.

I know this is an extreme example, and sci-fi too, but we do it all the time.

We accept things that are just wrong.

We go to a dead-end job or return home to a douchebag partner or stay satisfied with our unhealthy habits every day. Why? Because it seems easier to stay in a bad place than to change.

Prying yourself out of that uncomfortable, bad place is hard. It took me more than three years to get the nerve to leave my ex - and I'm not a timid person. I know now that if I had stayed, I would've been a physical, emotional and mental basket case. Or dead.

I found it easier to start small and then plan. First you have to fully commit to yourself that you're going to change your job, your guy or whatever. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks - only you. Then get things in order and start making it happen one step at a time.

In that Dr. Who episode, all of history was happening at once. Pterodactyls flew around a park while modern kids played. Roman Centurions guarded streets filled with cars. And futuristic villains were after the good guys. Think about whichever rotten situation you need to change and imagine if every awful thing about it happened in one day. In one moment. Like a needle stuck on a record as they said in the show.

That picture might be enough to make you want to get unstuck.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Up

Two things happened over the last week that had an interesting intersection.

First, I've been putting together a music play list for an event I'm running. The play list theme is motivating songs that have to do with flying. There are tons of classic and new songs that fit the theme like Fly by Nicki Minaj and Rihanna, Learning to Fly by Pink Floyd (or the Tom Petty version), Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz, Gonna Fly Now (the Rocky theme) and I Believe I Can Fly by R Kelly. Check out a few of them and see where your spirits go.

Then I had to sit in a classroom for a full day to be trained on one of my clients' new brand. The company hired consultants to help them rebrand. The new and improved focus is more on customers (really?). And the approach is all very positive and looks to the future rather than leading off with scare tactics and what may have happened in the past in any spoken or written communication.

Then the two consultants told us we should use "up" words because they project a more positive tone. Things like "reaching new heights." Okay, makes sense.

I have to admit listening to these flying songs has boosted my mood. I don't know if reading any marketing materials will put me in a good mood, but there must be some truth in how thinking about up is positive.

But one question leaves me perplexed. If love is so grand, why do we fall in it?

Love to the single girls,
Addison

The tiniest gesture

This morning yesterday's funk was better but not totally gone. The day started out just bleh, so I did what I do most every morning.

Run.

Today was one of those I made myself do it. The weather wasn't too bad and, except for the workers in the park setting up for the next festival, it was pretty deserted outside like most weekend mornings.

I turned the corner after a couple of blocks on one of my regular routes and saw a guy I know. He was standing there with his dog, holding his shirt and stretching after his run.

Then he did the simplest thing. He reached his hand out and up for a high five as I ran by.

Since I'm so short, I had to stretch to reach his hand. The timing was perfect, and I swear his energy transferred through his palm to me. Just a simple touch gave me a boost that may have changed my mood and the course of the day.

The gesture was simple but so powerful. I'll bet he didn't know such a small thing could make such a big difference.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

My mini melodramatic meltdown

Do you ever have days when you lose faith in yourself? This is one of those days. I don't know if it's PMS or Friday the 13th bad luck or just a tad of fall fever. Things are definitely off.

The good news is the day is close to over. Until then, I'm staying in where I can't get into trouble.

Work is so busy. It's like when someone tosses a whole basket of golf balls into the air and expects you to keep them all in the air or catch them. Today I could hardly catch one. I just wanted to sit down with a glass of wine and watch the balls bounce. The entire summer's been like this, but I've been lucky enough to not have any screw-ups - until today that is. I learned today I made a little budgeting error for an organization I lead that may end up costing the group a bit of money. I hate it, but it is what it is. It happened because I was (an am) overwhelmed. There's just too much going on.

But I'm most disillusioned with my personal life. After all of the gaffes I've made with guys over the last 15 months and everything I've learned, I still have rotten luck. The first time I met someone I like - and he likes me - then something weird happened to him and he totally retreated. I want to know him better so I hope this passes. Soon.

Then there's my friend. We hook up occasionally, like last night. He and I may be in a similar emotional place - heartache in our past and some unfortunate dating situations. I'm not sure if our relationship - whatever you call it - is good or bad for him or for me, but we enjoy each other. It works, and I like it.

I'm still freaked out over my bad date last weekend. I know; let it go. I dread running into him in the neighborhood though. He already texted this week, so I have to be prepared with my polite decline. I always enjoy an adventure, but right now I'd much rather jump out of an airplane than go on another date.

I can't blame it all on luck. One friend said some guys must think I look easy. Not sure why, but I'm going to work on that. Another friend told me it's just my nature to meet people. She said I always find something interesting about them. Maybe they take that interest as "I'm interested in fucking you"? I've got to work on that too.

I keep learning which are the bad guys and which are the good. But the rules keep changing, and there are just way too many flavors of bad to keep up with. My good girlfriends don't live here so they're probably looking up therapists to recommend by now so they don't have to listen to my little meltdowns as often.

Until then, this day is almost over, there's been no new trouble, and that makes me happy. Tomorrow this funk will be gone. It has to be because I'm almost out of tissues.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Sex and the City and China

Last night, three of us had girls night. We ate enchiladas on my fine china. What else would we do for an evening of Sex and the City? It's what Charlotte would do - if she approved of the china pattern at least. We were going to have Cosmopolitans too but none of us was in the mood to drink.

But we were in the mood for the fabulous series. One of the girls has never seen the show so we're watching from the very beginning.

As many times as I've watch Sex and the City, each episode and each time is relevant for a new reason. It's relevant for me or someone else. In the four episodes we watched last night, one had a scene where Carrie ran into an ex with his husband. They asked if she would donate eggs for their baby. My friend had just that morning donated eggs. 

Another friend is following a painful and common theme in the series. She keeps going back to her ex to repeat what was never a good relationship. 

Then there's me. As a newly single girl, I can relate to almost every scenario (well, except for some of the girls' unfortunate wardrobe choices). I've felt the single girl discrimination- pity and wives looking at me as a threat. But mostly my couple friends are so nice in letting me tag along. 

Honestly some of my experiences would have shocked even the Sex and the City girls. I can usually entertain my couple friends with my escapades, and I keep adding new stories.

We're about halfway through season one and I love the shows as much or more today than the first time I watched them on HBO. 

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Making a little mark

I did something last week I had thought carefully about for more than a year. I had my belly button pierced.

My mother would cringe if she knew. Even though I wore earrings every day since middle school, she didn't let me pierce my ears until I was 18.  Some of my high school and college friends would raise their eyebrows. Others who knew me better would just shake their head and laugh. My clients - well, they'll just never know.

My friend's boyfriend asked me what made me decide to do it. I hadn't really put it into words until then. I told him I just wanted to. I like the look, and my belly's decent enough to pull it off. My experience in LA last month when some women at a party gave me those shocked looks when they could see my belly button helped push me to do it.  

The experience wasn't bad at all, but it hurt more than I expected. I anticipated that sharp little prick like a shot at the doctor's office or when the piercing gun pokes through your earlobe. This was more. It almost brought tears to my eyes, but having my friend with me made it much easier. And I still laugh about the woman's bad breath who did the piercing. She did a good job as far as I know, but at the time, it was a needed distraction. She thought I was feeling faint when I stepped away from her afterwards. Really, I was just trying to put a little distance between us.

Some men think a naval ring is sexy, and any man who doesn't probably wouldn't like me anyway. But I didn't do it to be sexy for anyone. I did it for me and because I wanted to.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Forgiveness

Why do some people have such a hard time forgiving themselves?

The nice guy I met a few weeks ago and had the amazing three-day first date with did something he shouldn't have. Last week he ran into bad luck and got caught. While what happened was a little irresponsible, it wasn't that horrible. It cost him a little money, and I'm sure he'll never do it again. It's not the end of the world.

He texted he was too embarrassed to tell me what happened. But now I know, and he has no idea I know.

He's also been silent since Friday night. 

In the last week, we've gone from him telling me he was looking forward to outdoing our first date on our second and he would call me tomorrow to make plans for his visit that weekend - to nothing. The last I heard from him was this text, "Yes. I don't use my head sometimes. Call me when you get free."

I replied soon after. "We're human. Don't beat yourself up. You'll be okay. Call you in morning?"

My friend was sleeping off jet lag so I didn't want to wake her. I  did call him the next day and got voicemail. I texted three times since and haven't heard back.

I hope he knows I can move beyond a dumb little mistake. We all make them. I've made (and written about) many. Judging would be pointless. We learn and move on. 

He's a good man who needs to forgive himself and move on.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

People should come with warning labels

Hair pulling and a loud fart was how my date ended last night. It was my first date with a man I met a few weeks ago. It's the one I wrote about in Lucy's Still in the Closet and I Keep Meeting Men.

He seemed nice enough the night we met. Good conversation. Our marketing careers and Greek heritage in common. Then he called me the next week to meet for a drink, but I was halfway across the country and couldn't. So we connected again last week and made plans to go to my favorite Greek restaurant. He even joined with my group of friends Friday night and we had a couple of drinks at the pub. He blended pretty well; got along with the gang okay and even bought my drink.

Then we had our Sunday night date. He picked me up and dinner was nice. He was agreeable and seemed pretty easy going. Toward the end of dinner though, I realized we had spent the majority of the last two hours talking about him. He told me about growing up in Puerto Rico, living in The Bronx in college and some of his travel adventures. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't bored. They were interesting stories, but all about him just the same. I felt like a journalist doing an interview, and he showed little interest in knowing anything about me.

The first clue was right after he picked me up. We drove past the fire station and saw what I thought was a moving 9/11 display they had put up to memorialize the day. I asked him where he was on 9/11. He told me but didn't even ask the same of me. I know when his birthday is, which gym he's going to join, about his parents and his college athletic adventures.

He knows almost nothing about me. But I did drink pretty close to a full bottle of wine.

I also asked if he has kids (his answer was "not that I know of"), and tried to get out of him whether he'd been married or had long-term relationships.

After dinner, we went by his place to put his takeout food in his fridge. We ended up staying to watch the last quarter of the Sunday night football game. It was a nice place; well decorated but still moving in a bit.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked when his mouth was about two inches away from mine. I let him. The first kiss was gentle. Not bad.

Then his hands went everywhere. He was rubbing my belly just rough enough that I had to mention something I had hoped would never come up. I had just had my belly button pierced and it was tender when he touched it. (blog to come on that)

"Let me see," he said.

Just as I was saying, "I can't, I'm wearing a dress," he pulled my dress up. I yanked it back down as fast as I could. He kissed me again. This time it wasn't gentle. In fact, he almost bit my face off - so much I just noticed a couple of bruises on my bottom lip. And he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled. He didn't pull it in that sexy way. It was the let-the-fuck-go-of-my-hair way.

"Ouch, that hurt," I said.

He let go but didn't respond. But then he asked another question.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"No." Not that I would've had sex with him on a first date, but by that point, I didn't even want to kiss him.

"Would you have the nerve to ask me the same question?"

"No," I answered. "If I wanted to 'sleep' with you, I wouldn't ask. I just would." I don't think he knew how to respond.

That was my cue to grab my purse and leave. So I did, but he insisted on walking me home after he went to the bathroom. That's when the ginormous fart happened. I'd had to have been totally deaf to not hear through the bathroom door it in the quiet place.

He walked me the three blocks to my building and to my door. We couldn't walk fast enough. Then he left.

I had seen some people I knew at the pub when we walked by, so I gave him a few minutes head start and walked over there. I was too wound up to go to bed, so I sucked down two vodka cranberry cocktails and we laughed like crazy about the night's experiences. They all thought he was out of line. This morning I regretted those two drinks after all of the wine when the floor was still moving at noon after coffee, a little food and a shower.

There is good news. He's not a narcissist. He still knows little about me except the color of my panties. And I'm not going out with him again.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

I know I like a guy when . . .

My three-day first date ended yesterday, and it was a blast. I know I like him. Really. And it's a different kind of like than I've felt before. I'm not just curious what it would be like to have sex with him. I'm not in need of companionship, nor am I desperate to date someone. And I know I'm not bored.

1. This one is simple. It's logistics and time. I drove three hours to see him. The last few weeks have been pure chaos and I really didn't have time for the trip, but I needed it. We needed it. After we met a couple of weeks ago, there were so many sparks that we just had to see each other again, and it needed to be soon. With his schedule and mine, we didn't know when the next chance would be, so we just did it.

2. He made me feel welcome, in the most warm and unselfish way. From the moment I arrived, he made sure I had what I needed. He met me at the gate to get my car in then moved his truck to make a closer spot for my car, and his place was clean and very neat. And best of all, he never said anything that seemed like my visit was a bother or inconvenient for him. Even though he told me numerous times, he didn't have to - I knew he sincerely wanted me there.

3. I had just as much fun sitting on his sofa talking as I did when we were out at a restaurant. And he planned two amazing evenings out - one watching the sun set over the lake and the other exploring the cool downtown area of the city. We never tripped on each other's words nor did we have a lull in conversation. We talked about our work, hobbies, passions, life - even religion and politics. We're right there in sync on it all. The last night we bought some groceries and cooked in. I played bartender (not very well) while he cooked. We truly enjoyed each other's company.

4.  He never pushed me to do anything. From what we did in the evening to where I would sleep, he was cool with anything. I didn't know yet if I'd be ready to share his bed on the first night. It all goes back to being afraid of feeling vulnerable. He has such amazing sex appeal that I couldn't wait to explore his body. While I hope we can stretch those intimate moments to last longer and have even more of them, he was a caring and passionate lover. Our bodies and rhythms fit, and I want more.

5. With all of the conversation and intimacy, I was comfortable and not vulnerable. I don't often have a difficult time opening up to someone, but sometimes I regret it. I feel vulnerable. Like I've shared too much. Like they might use it against me. He was never like that. Communication is important to him, and we talked about how we felt about our visit - what we expected and how we felt as the three-day first date was getting close to ending.

6. Now that I've been home for a day, I miss him but I don't feel frantic. Before I left, he shared that he really hoped I would like him but wasn't sure I would make the trip up. I told him indeed did like him - his sex appeal, his friendly, fun nature, and the fact that he's just so nice. I told him more than once that he was spoiling me - I don't know how to act around the nice ones. We agreed that we looked forward to getting to know each other even better.

And I hope we do. Soon.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Diving in

Today's a big day. I'm now about 39 hours into my 36 hour first real date with someone who seems to be an amazing guy. We've had such a great time that he asked me to stay another day. This will be another first, a record 68 hour first date. Am I diving in a little to deep?

I drove three hours two days ago to get here and have loved every moment. He's shown nothing but trust and kindness and respect. His guest room was ready for me in case I was more comfortable sleeping in there. He was so respectful - no expectations.The first night we watched the sun set over a lake over dinner. The next day, I met him for lunch to break up his day. When he got home from work, he took me to the fun downtown area where we wandered around before having drinks and dinner there,

No, we haven't spent the entire visit in restaurants.Since my visit is during the week, he goes to work and I work at his place. Now that shows trust. I haven't opened a single drawer or closet to snoop. I haven't even been tempted (although I snuck a look to see what cologne he wears). The first night, we talked and kissed and talked some more. Wherever we happened to be we kissed. in the car, mixing a drink, walking my friend's dog - they're all appropriate times for more kisses. And he's good at it. His sexy eyes and warm smile make me feel so comfortable and safe.

But I do need help with one point. My face is getting raw from his beard that's just a little too scratchy for all of the kissing we've been doing. Any suggestions before I'm faced with other areas that are even less forgiving?

He also has passion. He's an intense but caring lover. He's curious and wants us to get to know each others bodies, likes and dislikes to make it even more fun. And he has a super sexy little ass.

One of the things I like the most is how well he communicates. There are no games, no wondering and everything he says seems to be honest and sincere. He says communication is the most important part of a relationship - well, and good sex too. Often. We agree on both. Without these, there's no relationship. we both want to add to our firsts: snow skiing, parachuting, and maybe even flying our own plane. It might be fun to try some of these together.

I'm not sure where this will lead, but I do know I'm enjoying getting to know him. He's about a month out of a three-year relationship and this may be my first post-divorce relationship. Are either of us ready? Will I be able to handle a nice guy? What about the three-hour distance between us? There's only one way to find out. I'm not looking forward to leaving tomorrow, and I know I'll look forward to seeing him again very soon.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

I seem to stir things up

Today was such a fun day of firsts. I visited an extremely rural part of the country in the midst of national forests to visit my client's plant sight. It was my first time in this geography and my first visit to one of my client's plants.

I also met reporters and politicians from the area - all really big fish here - and executives from the company I had never met. They were all very nice and humble. 

But the plant workers didn't know what to do with me  I'm just a girl trying to earn a living, but every time I walked down a sidewalk the plant workers smiled and waved. Maybe they're just really friendly. 

After the event this morning, I had to email pics to a few reporters who were on deadline. It's so rural here that They bad me use their WiFi via DSL. Really. With two web mail services going at once, I was getting the pics to them...slowly. 

I seemed to interrupt the day, although I didn't mean to. But then every member of the iT department had to stop and comment on my purple phone charger and question why all of their equipment was black or ask what kind of laptop I was using or if I needed a bigger screen. Then they came back to chat and introduce themselves. They  were curious who I was and why I was there. So one at a time I explained...before my netbook battery died and before I had to start the long drive to the long flights home. I shook hands and smiled and started feeling like those local poticians who were up for re-election this fall.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

The last passenger

I knew I was a runner for a reason. Today I was glad I was. 

I'm on a business trip and had to connect through a large international airport to get to a town closer to my destination. When I landed. I made the long walk to the terminal where my connecting flight was. Just as I was walking out of the ladies' room near my gate, I heard my name being announced. "Come to the gate for a message."

Did I not have a seat assigned? Was I getting bumped? I don't get called like that often. So I walked over to speak with the woman and she asked if I left an important item on the last flight. I thought for a moment. "My laptop!"

"You don't have time to go back for it," she said. 

"Yes I do. I'll run. Please do not let this plane leave." I knew what time the flight was leaving but I had no idea what time it was. I just knew I had to make it.

"I'll look for the next flight for you."

As I started running, I heard her yell my name. "It's C13!"

So I ran, in my skinny jeans and platforms, dragging my small roller bag behind me since she wouldn't let me leave it there. I watched signs so I didn't name a wrong turn. I  hopped on escalators and ran down moving sidewalks two terminals over to my last gate and saw my squishy black netbook sleeve sitting on the counter at the gate. I pointed to it and the lady on the phone handed it to me.

"Please call gate E12 that I'm on my way." I was panting so she knew it was important.

"I'm on hold so I can't," 

Really?

I ran all the way back and found the door at my gate closed. No gate agent was in sight but they were still loading luggage and the plan door was open. I went to the next gate and the gate agent said she couldn't help me. Thanks for that. I knocked on the window and pounded on the door. Nothing. Finally a baggage handler who was standing nearby went outside to see if he could get someone. The ticket agent came in and let me on. Finally, after I had been standing there for five minutes.

I climbed the airplane stairs from the ground still dragging my bag and sat  in the last empty seat. I used the napkins I  had grabbed with my salad to mop off the sweat that was dripping off me. I downed a bottle of water and noticed the perspiration showing through my t-shirt on my chest and stomach . It was at least a mile, and I feel a little sorry for the man sitting next to me. He didn't seem at all sympathetic though like the man behind me.

Before I set off on the run, I contemplated just buying a new laptop when I got to my destination. I had the files I needed on a USB drive in my purse, but I had just written a chapter of my novel on the flight. It was definitely worth the sprint. And, except for whoever called my gate about the forgotten item, no thanks to US Airways, it all worked out okay.

As soon as I get through this long Hertz line, I'm stopping off to buy a new shirt so I won't smell like I just came from the gym at dinner with my clients - and a bottle of wine.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

One year and more than 9000 visits later

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog.

A conversation with a women I know professionally who made  a judgmental comment to me one Saturday afternoon about going to a bachelorette party inspired this blog. By the next day, Addison put her thoughts on the subject into the first post. One year later, I still believe she was wrong. But thank her for the inspiration.

This blog describes my life. It's what I live every day. My experiences and thoughts; my hopes, dreams and fears. Some may agree with me and some may not. Others, like that woman, may judge, and that's okay.

We all have a story.

This is where I tell mine, and I hope others - especially single girls - learn from my missteps and successes too. I try to not make the same mistake twice but do sometimes. If you laugh while reading, believe me, I'm laughing with you. If you cry, I probably shed some tears as well. I want to learn from you, too.

Every word here is true. These things happen to real people I know. I never use names nor do I intend anyone to figure out who I'm writing about. The only way you will know is if you were there.

Behind the U.S., people in Russia, Germany and the U.K. have visited the pages on this site the most. By far, most people are interested in heels popping balloons. The balloon fetish intriguesme. There are also lots of people interested in what it's like to live alone and work from home (I love it in case you're curious).

I enjoy sharing with all of you. Please tell your story, agree or disagree or share your advice in the comments. Whether you're a guy or girl, single or not, in Australia, Israel, Germany, Indonesia or the U.S. or anywhere around this world, we all would enjoy hearing from you. I know I would.

Love to you all,
Addison

Lucy's still in the closet and I keep meeting men

This has been the most accidental last two weeks of my life. I keep meeting men. Nice ones. Men with jobs and no wives or girlfriends. Men who seem really nice. I met two last Friday night. Now I just met another.

And Lucy finally came out of the closet today. She's had a tough time with my friend's dog staying here, and finally ventured out when the pup was in her doggie condo. She's just scared of her. Terrified. Perhaps she's been bitten or chased before I adopted her. We all have baggage.

I met the latest guy when I walked my guest home to her apartment last night. We went out to celebrate the amazing workshop she led yesterday. On my way home, I stopped back by the restaurant where we had just had a drink to speak to a couple more friends. I was sitting on the bar stool talking to my friend when the town drunk squeezed her way in between us.

"How are you baby?" she said to him. The she spoke said hello to me and hugged me. I didn't hug back. In a few seconds, she was almost on my lap until I said something. 

"Excuse me. You are almost in my lap. Will you move please?"

"I didn't mean to . . . " she said. I tuned out the rest. 

She didn't move, but my guy friend did. Then the town drunk sat on his bar stool next to me. I moved.

I and sat on the sofa in the waiting area. I'm not going to spend ten seconds sitting next to a women who could kill someone almost every night of the week when she gets behind the wheel of her car drunk. I got up from the sofa to sit next to another guy I know when someone else slipped into the spot. To avoid the awkward moment, the man sitting a couple of seats down suggested I sit next to him. It was sweet, so I did.

After he asked my name, one of the first questions I asked him was, "Are you Greek?" 

"Yes, half." I could tell. He looked it. 

"Me too," I answered. His other half is Puerto Rican. Interesting.

We had a nice conversation. We shared our stories - our Greek heritage, what we do for a living, our views on religion, Puerto Rico (since I made my first trip there recently) and our love for Greek food. Then I told him what it's like to live in the neighborhood - from Addison's viewpoint. He's moved to the city about three weeks ago and was just starting to get out to meet people. We agreed I would take him to my favorite Greek restaurant. He walked me home, asked for my number, shook my hand and said goodnight. I enjoyed talking to him.

These last two weeks I can relate to Lucy's experience venturing out of the closet but being afraid of what strange things are out there. After being single for more than a year and being scared of letting a guy get close to me, I think I've met someone I could like. I know he likes me and, like Lucy, I'm terrified of what might happen.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

This breaks my heart

Ever since last summer, I've seen this woman in the park next to my building where I jog. She sits on a bench with a bag of stuff in the shade most every day. She just sits and sleeps and watches the world pass by. Today I was in the park several times from early morning to night, and she was there each time.

The women is slender - but not skinny. When she walks, she stands tall and proud. She typically wears black Adidas warm-up pants with the three stripes down each side and a wig that keeps her looking well groomed. With the shade, water fountains and nice bathrooms in the park, it's probably an appealing place to hang out.

As a writer, I'd love to hear her story, but I'm afraid to ask. It's none of my business, but I know she has she has a story. I assume she's homeless or she wouldn't be in the park day and night. I would also love to offer her food, but I'm afraid to ask. It breaks my heart to see her there alone, but I'm also afraid to care. I do hope she's safer in the park than wherever she was.

I know she recognizes me since I'm there almost every day jogging in my red cap. And she may wonder about my story, or she may not care.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A little scared

Last weekend I met someone. He's somebody I could really like, and I'm scared.

We met at a really odd moment. He had driven down for the weekend to help my friend move, which hit me at a very emotional time. He and my friend's boyfriend arrived while we were having a farewell dinner for her with a couple of friends. And one of those friends is another guy I could like. I don't know him well enough but what I've seen so far is very appealing.

So my friend and I left the dinner group, and that's when I met him. I had a little too much to drink and was in the middle of flirty texts with the guy I had just met. They ended up advising me on what to say next. And I took their advice - well most of it at least. How weird is that?

My head just wasn't in the right place to meet another guy - the second in one night. But we talked. And he actually listened - something I'm not used to. Then he walked me home and made plans to see each other the next day. We kissed and it was nice.

We spent the next afternoon and evening together. The attraction was subtle - looks, smiles, brief conversation across the table over dinner and drinks. When we moved to a different place, we sat next to each other. We talked about music and being single and our divorces and his daughter and work. He was affectionate in a tasteful way. He kissed me on the cheek a few times and caressed my back with the firm touch I like. He's so nice. If we got interrupted, he actually asked me to finish what I was saying. I know, how else are people supposed to be? Well lots only care about themselves.

That night he walked me home again. We lingered on the street in the shadows for a long time just kissing and talking and kissing some more. It was harder to send him to my friend's place than inviting him up to my comfy bed - especially considering he would have to sleep on the floor since the furniture was already loaded.

The next morning we had a sweet farewell and have texted ever since. He's ready for me to visit as soon as I can. I don't know what to do with the nice ones. Am I reading the signals right? My ex was a narcissist. He did and said the right things at first then he turned. This one is about a month out of a kinda long-term relationship. Is he just missing regular sex? Am I? Is he a serial monogamist waiting for the next girlfriend? Am I just taken by the sparkly eyes and smile and the attention he gives me?

Do you remember that feeling when you meet someone? It's like being on one of those rides at the fair that tosses you around. It feels good but you don't walk straight when you get off. Your legs feel all noodly. Well that's were I am.

Am I ready for this?

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Senator Edwards

Next week I'm taking a quick trip to attend a construction groundbreaking for one of my clients. It's one of those political-mucky-mucks-with-shovels events that can become a really big deal - especially on a slow news day.

This particular event happens to be in Senator John Edwards' state. I told a friend about it the other day, and when I said his name the most bizarre visual popped into my head that was nowhere near the typical reaction of curiosity and interest in meeting a celebrity.

"What if he hits on me?" I said to her.

She just laughed. "He might."

"Can I mess up his hair?" was all I could think of to say. No probing questions or enticing conversation.

The good news just came in. He's not able to attend.

Love to to the single girls,
Addison

A small fashion emergency

This may sound trivial, and it probably is, but I have a minor fashion emergency. I have to visit one of my clients' plants soon and they have clothing requirements that include long pants and closed shoes with no high heels. Anyone who's seen my closet knows this could be a problem.

The only closed shoes I have without high heels are my Uggs, running shoes, a pair of tall, black riding boots, hiking boots and Sketchers. Somehow I don't think any of these will work in a professional setting - especially in the August heat.

I completely understand. They have to be safe. But what's a girl to do?

Go shopping!

The quickest place to see the most shoes is at DSW. I saw dozens of ballet flats and low-heel pumps and wedges there. They're just not me. And I would feel like an old-maid school head mistress in those low-heel pumps. I didn't see a single pair I was even tempted to pick up muchless try on.

There's a 1990s style coming back - those short, lace-up army-looking boots. They're just funky enough for me to like them and low-heeled, rounded toe and enclosed enough to fit my client's clothing rules. So I bought a pair in black.

It probably wouldn't matter to them what I wear since the plant is in the middle of a national forest - literally in the middle of nowhere. They may not be as professional as I'd like, but they'll get me through the event, and I'll actually wear them again.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

The beginning of a chapter and end of an era

One day about seven years ago, a beautiful and smart young English women set out for America. She moved to the city where I live, but I only met her a little over a year ago. Her mom, step dad and brother came too, but the parents went home to the life they were used to.

That's when the young women struck out on her own and launched a new era in this neighborhood where I now live. It's also where she lived until today.

She's someone who could do just about anything she decides to do. She tried a few career paths and ended up managing the pub where we hang out often. She left there and now bar tends somewhere else. That's one way so many people know - or know of - her. Even though I didn't know her then, every few months, a friend from way back pops up. They adore her, and I always know they're good people because she only picks the good ones. And those who aren't the good ones, don't exist to her.

I'm not sure if it was her upbringing, bar tending or something else that made her so wise. I learn from her often - from health stuff and how to solve problems to fashion and fun sex games. And I only wish I had a fraction of her sassy attitude. What you see is it. No games.

Over the last few weeks, I watched the boxes pile up and the apartment get more sparse. The walls became bare as she packed the photos of friends and the Big Ben and Union Jack pictures. Then today it was empty. She, her boyfriend and his friend who came down to help with the move slept on the floor since the furniture was already loaded. Then they all drove away in their trucks.

Dropping her keys in the office was heartbreaking. Even though she'll be back often and I'll visit her, she doesn't live here anymore. When she did, I didn't see her every day, but I knew she was in the next building just a text or three-minute walk away. I watched her pup and she took care of Lucy when we were away. We made sure each other got home safely at night and had long talks about our problems, fears and dreams.

This move will force me to think smarter on my own so I stay out of unpleasant or dangerous situations. I'll ask myself - especially when it comes to guys, "What would she do?"

This move is one of her dreams - the beginning of a new chapter. She and her boyfriend are starting a life together. For the first time, they'll be under the same roof, seven days a week. At times, it may seem like falling into a dark tunnel like in this fun house at the state fair, but I know she can handle it. Over the weekend, they both said how excited they were about living together. And that makes it all okay. Someday, I hope to dance at their wedding to help begin the next chapter.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

The night I kissed three guys

Did that really happen? Yes it did. Last night. I was there. Actually, I let three guys kiss me, and I think that was a first.

It started out just to be a low-key sushi dinner with my amazing friend who's moving to the next state this weekend and her friend. I had met him just once but felt like I had known him much longer. He's the ex of her ex best friend and they had all shared an apartment a couple of years ago. They're almost like brother and sister.

We met at the pub first where we met his childhood buddy who joined us for dinner. I had a glass of wine. Then we had a shot, and it started not being such a low key night. We talk and laughed and toasted the good memories and willed away the bad ones with the tall Adios Motherfucker blue but lethal farewell drink my friend's been having on her last few days here. Then we crossed the street and sat on the patio on a cool August evening and continued the fun over sushi.

My amazing friend who's moving sat on one side and her friend sat on the other. I adored sitting between them and enjoyed getting to know him a bit better. He's super nice, interesting, in great shape and not bad to look at. We traded a few looks. You know, those when you realize there's chemistry. Then somewhere between my miso soup and salmon roll, his childhood buddy looked at me from across the table and smiled.

"You're hot," he said.

I almost choked on the edamame I had just put in my mouth. "Thank you." I think it was the beer and the shot talking. But he said it again later, too.

After dinner, we walked over to my friend's house to walk her cute little pup. While we walked, the nice guy I sat next to at dinner and I walked together. The drinks had made us both more affectionate than usual, so we traded a few casual touches. It was nice.

But back at my friend's place, the childhood buddy was all over me. He backed me against the wall and kissed me until I ducked under his arm to escape. It was a little much. It was definitely the beer and the shot talking, and perfect timing for the four of us to walk back to the pub.

My friend's friend and I hung behind. He rescued me from his buddy's groping hands. We flirted then he grabbed my hand, led me around the corner and planted the hottest kiss. It was one of those I didn't want to end. We snuck behind his friend and traded numbers, then he had to get his buddy home.  

My amazing friend and I walked down to the next bar to meet her boyfriend and his friend who had come down for the weekend to help her move. His friend was a cool guy. Nice looking. Then my friend's boyfriend bought a round of tequila shots - the only shot I can rarely turn down. 

The guy who had just left continued our flirting by text. The two guys at the table coached  me on how to respond to his texts. Throughout the rest of the evening, I could tell the friend was attracted to me. He walked me home and kissed me goodnight. It was nice too.

Would all of this kissing have happened without the two shots? Probably just the middle one, and I hope that kiss happens again.

I curled up in bed and slept like a baby. Alone.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Just a normal family

One of my neighbor friends has house guests this week. Her mom and younger brother are visiting. I met them the night I went to hear my friend perform at the restaurant down the street. Then, the next day, we all hung out by the pool. Actually we were in the pool most of the time. It was too damn hot to not be underwater.

During that lazy Sunday afternoon at the pool, my friend's brother invited me to join them for dinner. He was very persuasive, so I said yes. At the time I didn't realize it was the official meeting-of-the-family for my friend's boyfriend. They seemed natural - like they'd known each other for a while.

While we enjoyed a nice Italian dinner, I had a unique cultural experience. The family - mom, daughter and son - have a deep love for each other. They vocalized it often. It was kind of sweet. And baby bro is more than extremely protective over his sister. If it was up to him, she wouldn't have to move or think or probably even be. It's probably one reason why she lives 500 miles away from her family. She has a good job, money and independence.

Their mom lost her husband and the siblings their dad two years ago. The wound is still fresh. And they vocalized it often. The raw pain of losing a loved one too early was evident. Mom giggled though. The siblings would express their undying love for each other and Mom would just laugh. I said something once about her cute giggling and my friend dropped her smile and shook her head for me to stop. How could that possibly offend?

The three of them were very open and welcoming to me. They treated me with kindness and respect - and baby bro acted like he was interested in me. Then my friend picked up the check. We ended the evening with a nightcap at the pub across the street. They also invited me to take a road trip to the next state for a gambling outing in a couple of days.

But there was something very wrong with the family. Alcohol, pills, dragging people out of bed after an afternoon of drinking at the pool, falling down outside of the pub and lost keys are the cloud over the loving family. It worries me. And it's why I would never get into a car with them.

When I saw them two nights later, my friend and her boyfriend separately apologized for the evening's events. I'll confess, it was a bit shocking, but it was okay. It's just he way they are - and it's not my place to try to change anything. But then baby brother scolded me for not going out for drinks after dinner.

"I did," I answered. "Don't you remember?"

"Yes," he answered. "I mean drinks after that."

"Sorry, it was late," I answered.  It was a school night. Then I grabbed the blue lighter with the rainbow from him. He swiped it from my friend a couple of nights before. There are certain things a single girls need and others they can live without.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Junior high school bra tricks

On my jog this morning, I kept thinking about the craziest conversation we had at the pub last night. I ran until I got tired of getting wet from the rain, but was amused the entire time.

A group of us sat around a table on the patio and talked about the one-second bra unhook trick. You remember, how the guys in junior high school used to try to unhook girls' bras? The difference now is that adults actually can talk about it while twelve-year-olds would just do it. Talking about it would have been way too embarrassing. Oh, and adults usually proceed to remove the bra rather than just unhooking it and giggling.

One guy at our table said, "I haven't unhooked a woman's bra in ten years."

"Why?" I asked.

"By now, we take off our own clothes."

I suggested he do it more often. "It's a turn on and kind of romantic if you do it right," I said.

Then we - this group of men and women in their 20s, 30s and 40s - practiced the technique. And it's harder than it seems. I tried it on myself three or four times before I got it. Then the guy who hadn't unhooked a bra in ten years tried. It took him several tries - doing it with his left hand slowed him down, he said. He got one hook first then he got them both. Then he was hooked. He repeated it another or seven or eight times - sometimes with success and sometimes without.

Across the table another guy practiced on my friend. He was young and I'm not sure he'd done at all before. People around us and walking by must have thought we were crazy. If you've read this blog recently though, I don't really care what people think.

Honestly I'm not sure how the whole bra unhooking conversation came up, but it was fun. Maybe next time I'll bring up the best methods for undoing belts and unzipping/unbuttoning jeans. Taking your own and each other's clothes off falls into the romance category. We get so caught up in our own habits and in a hurry that we forget romance. We just have to make sure that doesn't happen.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Leaving a little something behind

Last night I did something I've never done before. I forgot something at a guy's house.

Lots of girls - and guys too - start leaving things behind. Some forget a little something so they have to see the other person again soon. They leave important things like glasses or phones. Others start the gradual move-in process with a toothbrush, comb or favorite t-shirt or maybe a phone charger or book.

I've never done either until last night. I left my bra. It truly was an accident. I was tired and super chilled and just walked out without it. He recently moved from a couple of miles down to road to about four towns and twenty miles away, so I can't just stop by to pick it up. And I was halfway home before I remembered it - too far, too late and too sleepy to go back.

I know he'll take care of it. It's not my favorite piece of lingerie, but it's my newest bra and strapless - one that gets worn a lot on these summer days. He loaned me a hoodie one chilly night and I returned it a week or so later when I saw him next all clean and folded.

But now I wonder how a guy will return a bra to a girl. He can't just stick it in his pocket and hand it over the table at the pub. I hope not, at least. Next time, I'll leave nothing.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Violence is a deal breaker

The other night, I met a group at a restaurant down the street to hear a friend perform. He's a talented guitarist and for about the six months or so had played with a female singer who sang everything from Adele to Zeppelin. They were good - both talented on their own and very entertaining together.

They were. Now they've broken up. It appears the partnership ended because she got back with her ex. According to my guitarist friend, she's pregnant with her second child, her ex hit her again and they went away for the weekend recently and got married.

Everything about this scenario is wrong.

She told me a few months ago how shy she is - except when she's on stage. Singing brings her out of her shell and let's her shine. Now that shine is gone because of an abusive ex boyfriend; now husband. It breaks my heart.

Although my situation wasn't one of the world's worst, it was bad. Sometime explosive. I had to get out, and I did. Going back is and never will be an option. Ever. Life as a single girl is so amazing compared with the alternative. Money may get tight, loneliness is possible and it may seem a little scary. But the physical and emotional abuse is gone. No matter what single life throws at you, nothing beats making your own decisions, being free and living away from someone else's control and anger.

No one should ever have to live in fear.

Love to the single girls,
Addison