Arm challenge

It's time for a challenge. It's my challenge to all single girls out there to firm up your arms.

I was at a concert last night. It was a small venue with standing room/general admission only. So that means we were packed in, shoulder to shoulder. I was right in front of the stage because my friend is a huge fan of this artist. She's a big enough fan to she'll out $350 for a VIP ticket so she could talk to him.

It was a good concert and people really got into it. I saw fists pumping and arms raised clapping to the beat. Being so packed in there I couldn't help but notice people's arms when they were raised.

Most of them jiggled.

You know that arm waddle that hangs off? Triceps are hiding under there. Somewhere And it's hot outside so most arms were uncovered. These girls were all ages from late teens to 50s, and most were relatively slender. And they still jiggled - bat wings as I've seen it called. 

This is where my challenge comes in. Work out those arms to get rid of that waddle!

It doesn't take much, I promise. Get some light weights or exercise bands and find some good workout routines online. I just googled triceps exercises and got 5.7 million hits. Here's a series of exercises in Real Simple that only requires an exercise ball and light dumbbells. If you pay those triceps a little attention, I promise they'll love you back with a little more firmness.

I understand genetics come in to a certain degree, but every girl can do it. And there's nothing sexier than a single firm arms.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A slap of reality

I was perusing the online news headlines to find the story about a syndicated radio deejay who passed away suddenly at way too young of an age. He was someone I grew up with. Someone who kept me company in the car on the commute to work when I used to have to drive to an office.

That news saddened me, but it was one of the other headlines on the page that had a much more profound impact.

"Woman dies after being attacked by her husband."

Tears were in my eyes before I even got to the first paragraph. Sometime in the middle of the night, he assaulted her. The story said the police didn't expect her to die from her injuries. But she did.

It slapped me into reality because it could have been me if I hadn't left my ex. My ex was only physically violent a couple of times, but he had it in him. I never knew what would make him snap.

This woman was a mother of two who have no parents now and a daughter. I'm sure she also had friends and work colleagues and others who cared about her. Did she know she was in danger? Was she afraid to leave? Was death better than staying with him?

No women deserves that end, but it's up to them to seek help before it's too late.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A visit gone bad

Last night I met a friend at the neighborhood pub. It was my first visit in a while. A friend was playing there and a former neighbor was visiting for the weekend. It was nice to see the old gang.

Another friend, who is almost always alone, joined us. This time he had a lady with him that he introduced as his "friend." She was a tall, very fashionably dressed woman whose mix of Italian and black heritage made her stunning. Someone else walked up to this table and asked who this princess was. As I learned later, she knows him because he's her regular cosmetics customer at Neiman Marcus. Yep, I can believe he's one of the only men I know who has a regular cosmetics consultant - but I'd hardly call him metrosexual.

We chatted while we listened to the music. She was friendly and had never been to the neighborhood before. She was visiting the city from the suburbs. He bought a round of shots, that neither she nor I drank, and people got a little crazier.

As the night progressed, it was pretty obvious they were more than friends - probably feeling each other out to see if they liked each other in a different environment. You know that stage between friend and whatever that doesn't have a name. Then we walked down to the another bar. Her eyes got wider by the minute there. She was out of her element. Totally.

"I've been there done that," she said and pointed around the bar. "Tell me what he's really like."

"That's a conversation you need to have with him," I suggested. "But I have to admit I've never seen him drink this much. He's usually a wine sipper like me."

Her eyes were bugging out and her forehead was wrinkled as she watched the guy I had just been talking to pull his shirt off and show off his muscly body - to the other guys I might add. Guys were being guys and girls were line dancing. People were just letting loose on a Friday night. Drinking too much and having a little fun. They were in their element.

"How do people live like this," she asked me. "Do you? How do you do it?"

"I don't," I answered. "I enjoy having fun. I just got out of a very nasty marriage so I have some catching up to do."

"Me too," she answered.

I almost found myself defending my friends and acquaintances because like me, we all have a story. And maybe some of us aren't quite ready to grow up.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A different reaction

Today I was talking on the phone with one of my best friends. She asked what I was going to do today. I mentioned I was getting stuff done so I'm be ready for my trip next week.This is for a conference that helps me be a better writer. It's also where I will see my  lover of 3.5 years.

"Oh that's right," she said. "Will you see xxx?" (sorry, can't use his name.) 

"Do I have any choice?" I answered. The words just tumbled out like I was purging bad fish.

She was asking about the man I used to count the days and hours until I'd see him next. I also haven't seen him since his visit in March. Even though we've talked and texted, I feel let down that he didn't follow through with his invitation for me to visit him between then and now. Because of that, there's a little bit of dread in my heart that probably caused the reaction.

We're not dating nor are we committed in any way. But we're friends, and it hurts when someone you care about lets you down.

I'm sure we'll be fine - pick up where we left off just like we always do - unless that dread turns into something the fabulous sex won't make up for. Whether I'm feeling it anymore or not, I'll follow my heart.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Is it okay to clean naked?

Cleaning naked. Discuss.

Yes, I'm aware this is a bizarre topic, but it inspired me to write. So where did it come from? This week I've been in major get-shit-done mode. I'll be travelling next week and need to catch up some of this chaos in my world before even more piles up while I'm away.

So I finally took a break from working today to take a shower. (Those of us who work from home can do that, you know.) While I stood there about to step into it, I remembered cleaning the bathroom was something I needed to do this weekend. Why not do it now? I said to myself. So I did. And why bother putting clothes back on just for that? My bathroom is very small, so cleaning it isn't a major project. And showering when it's all sparkly is nice. No cute little French maid outfit. Just nothing.

I would have never cleaned naked when I was living with my ex. He was just too assholeish. He would've said or done something crude that would've just pissed me off. He was a slob but never cleaned, so that was definitely not a sexy topic in my mind with him. I might entertain the idea with someone else though. What would be even more fun is cleaning naked together.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A lucky single girl

Today I'm feeling a little lucky. I also appreciate a special group of friends.

I love to travel, but being single makes travel more difficult. Who wants to take vacations alone? That means finding people who have the desire, time and money to go somewhere at the same time you do. Then you have to agree on where to go. And face it, traveling with people isn't always a vacation, so you also have to find people you travel well with - on a similar budget, like to do similar things and light on the crazy spells.

I feel lucky today because I'm looking forward to two trips planned before the end of this year with different groups of friends I've traveled with before. I know we'll have fun. One trip is to Vegas, and it will be the first time I've been there purely for fun - and this one's a birthday trip. It's always been a business trip, and by the time work was over, I just wanted to leave. I may be ready to leave, but at least the memories won't be of just work.

The other trip is a short cruise that my friends and I booked last night. We're headed to two destinations I've never visited - the Bahamas and Key West. I can't wait.

Some other friends have talked about weekend destinations before the year's end, so I hope those happen too. I don't mind traveling alone either, so I may squeeze another trip. I can always use an excuse to explore. All of these trips give me something to look forward to. And since these friends all know me well, they won't try to fix me up with guys.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Matchmaking

It happened again. Someone tried to play matchmaker last night. I started sweating, my heart beat faster than I drive and I felt like I would throw up. It's the same reaction as the last time it happened a few weeks ago.

The better people know me the less likely they are to try to hook me up. I guess they know I'll have no trouble meeting people - that is, when I'm ready.

I met three friends for happy hour then dinner. One was a girl I know pretty well. One was a guy friend I've fooled around with off and on over the last year, and the third was their friend I've met two or three times. The girl I don't know so well lingered at the bar talking to her boyfriend's friends most of the time.

Then she popped over to talk to us and told me I should pick from the group of single guys. She pointed out the one she had picked out for me. Even though she thinks I'm younger than I actually am, my friend and I agreed he was way too old for me. But the girl who picked him out is dating a guy more than a decade older. The guy appeared to be in decent shape but had salt and pepper hair and skin that resembled weathered cowhide.

My guy friend looked a little confused watching. The girl wanted me to walk over with her and talk to them. "No thank you. I'm good." I just had to get up and go to the bathroom to escape.

On the way I slipped and almost fell in my heels on the varnished concrete floor. Thankfully I grabbed the booth and it just left me with a bruise on my chest and knee. My friends didn't see me (I don't think) but the three guys at the table behind them all gawked and mouthed, "are you okay?"

I smiled and nodded. I was physically, but the rest of me was rattled.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Never leave your wingman

As a single girl again, I'm constantly reminded of how important it is for girls to be good friends to their girl friends. Being a good friends isn't referring to how often you see each other or even talk, and it doesn't mean being the funnest party girl in the bunch.

It means being honest and dependable. It means being there for your friend when they need you if you possibly can. These are true friends.

My former neighbor and I had dinner last night. She was the first person I met around here but she married and moved away last summer. Luckily we've kept in touch and see each other every few months at least. It wasn't the same for her with another friend from the neighborhood who had blown off invitations to her wedding shower, bachelorette party and wedding reception over the last year. She even responded that she was coming but didn't show up because she was hanging out with her boyfriend. Since then, she and the boyfriend broke up and she was unemployed for a while. She still never contacted my old next-door neighbor until last week. When my old neighbor answered her phone and heard it was her, she lit in about the disappearing act.

On the other end, my friend heard, "I'm here with my boss and you're on Bluetooth."

I guess hearing a friend throw you under the bus isn't exactly what you want your boss to hear, but that didn't stop her. Her new job is in the healthcare field and my old neighbor's husband is a doctor. She just called to get his contact information so they could call on him. My friend didn't share.

My friends and I also had a few other conversations over the weekend about how friends should keep an eye on each other - especially when they're in awkward or potentially dangerous situations with guys or have had too much to drink. Friends don't leave friends stranded.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Domestic amnesia

This morning I watched the movie The Iron Lady. Since it's the story of British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, I had been putting off watching it thinking the move would be heavy and historical. I adored the movie and I adore her.

It's a story about love and loss and girl power. The movie and the women were inspiring. When her husband Dennis proposed to her in the movie, she told him she was not going to die with a teacup in her hand. He told her that was why he wanted to marry her. If the movie was accurate, he honored her independence and dedication to public service most of the time.

I was thinking about the movie and their relationship while jogging just now. They were lucky to find each other. So many men brag about how independent they are when you first start going out. They can repair the roof then come in and sew on a button while whipping up a gourmet candle-lit dinner. Then you become a committed couple and maybe get married and it all stops.

Domestic amnesia hits. They turn from the male version of Martha Stewart to being totally helpless.

My ex did it. I was the main earner of the couple but he reminded me often that he was "head of the household." Since I worked from home, he expected dinner to be on the table and the TV turned to his favorite talking heads as soon as he walked in the door. I don't recall him doing as much as one load of laundry or any cleaning while we were married. His idea of cooking was tossing a frozen pizza in the oven.

I worked the entire time we were together except for about 2.5 months when I took a break before starting my own company while he took a total of about two years off. One was an entire year he decided to focus on professional development. Then he had a really hard time finding a job afterwards. And while he was off, he didn't do any more around the house than usual.

Do I seem remotely like June Cleaver?

Most girls today aren't. But we're also consistent. We're either domestic or not. Rarely do you find a single girls who rivals Rachel Ray when she first starts dating a man then forgets it all as soon as there's a ring.

I hope Margaret Thatcher inspires more single girls. They had careers, independence, two children and were madly in love - according to the movie at least. After all of the years together, they became fiercely dependent on each other, which watching her after his death absolutely heartbreaking. That's the kind of love I hope to find.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

What does it take to finish a divorce?

This week I realized I'm still not divorced. Even though the judge declared the marriage was over more than a year ago, I keep tripping over things that connect me to him.

We have no children, and the property was divided in the divorce decree. We didn't even have a joint bank account or shared credit cards. As soon as I moved out almost a year and a half ago, I cleared away any other remaining connections.

Eighteen months ago I called both agents and set up separate policies. At least I thought I did. The couple of times since I've had to talk to State Farm, the person I spoke with started by saying, "I see you have three cars..." I stopped them and threatened to leave State Farm if they ever said anything about 3 cars to me. "I have the Porsche. That's all." The topic never came up again in the conversation.

Then yesterday, I called simply to move both policies to one agent. The she said, "I see you have three cars..."

I spent more than half an hour on the phone trying again to completely, 100% separate my car and renter's insurance from my ex. I even had to speak to a supervisor to make it happen. Like the divorce process wasn't difficult enough.

I learned yesterday the reason for the lingering connection was because the agent still had my ex and me in the same "household." What does divorce typically mean? When there are separate policies and different addresses, why would there be one household?

And it doesn't stop there. Today at the doctor's office, the woman looked at my insurance card. "So the policy is under your husband's name?"

"No it isn't."

"Is he still employed at this company?"

"No. It doesn't matter since he isn't my husband. He has nothing to do with my insurance or anything to do with me."

She took his name off my records. Perhaps I'm a tad defensive?

Maybe these people don't know the right processes, or maybe they're just too lazy to deal with it. Either way, their complacency causes me pain. I invested years of heartache then thousands of dollars getting out of that union. Many other women do the same. I hope people check twice before they "couple" people who aren't a couple. It's often a bigger deal to the other person than they might think.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

If you've ever wondered what I look like

The radiographer at the doctor's office thinks I look like Celine Dion. I just said thank you. I'm not a big fan. She doesn't rock, but I respect her success.

Telling someone they look like a celebrity can be risky - especially if you don't know the person. I've seen those comments make people feel totally offended.

But sometimes it's all okay. Every once in a while people tell my friend that she looks like Gwen Stefani. She kinda likes that one - and they do favor. Then I had to text this picture of Claudia Cardinale, a brunette bombshell from an old movie poster to another friend. I think she looks just like this actress - especially with the pouty face. My friend just laughed.

I appreciate those who are lucky enough to make money by looking like a celebrity. And it is totally luck. But I always wonder if they make enough for the headaches it can cause when people constantly stop them, "Did you know you look like . . .?" What a hassle. And what if the celebrity is more infamous than famous? Do these people want to look like the celebrity's police mug shot too?

I don't think I look like Celine Dion. But perhaps to some I do.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

My simple life

We all carry baggage with us and we all have our vices. I'm learning the dramatic divide between those with serious issues and those who just deal with every-day life.

I count my baggage as two failed marriages. That means I suck at picking guys. Some might consider my cat as baggage, but she's just a cute little carry on. The glass or two of red wine I like to have every evening might be a vice. Sometimes I feel like I should cut back, but I enjoy my wine. Another vice is how defensive I get when anyone tries in any way to control me. That's a deal breaker. It stems from mommy issues and exes. So is that a vice or baggage?

Either way, I'm likely my own worst critic, but my little section of bags and vices seem insignificant compared with what I saw just last night in the neighborhood pub. My friend and I grabbed a late sushi dinner then I had a glass of wine while she sipped water at the pub. We've both gotten to the point where we pick where we sit - or if we go in at all - based on the number of strange people inside. Last night we probably should have just gone home.

We already saw the neighborhood drunk on the patio. There's nothing new to say about her. She pours wine down, slurs useless words and lands in guys' laps or in the middle of conversations where she wasn't invited. Then she drives home. The bar should cut her off before she kills someone.

Our next clue was the woman trying to open the glass door to leave. She couldn't figure out how to open it. Push, darlin'. Then the guy behind her cradled a bulldog puppy. Later our friend told us she already had a collection of DUIs and the next one would put her in prison. Someone was always there to rescue her. Then our friend got a call from the drunk woman's neighbor. She was running up and down the hallways in her bra and panties saying she had lost her dog. Then she would disappear again.

The guy who carried her dog home came back to the bar rolling his eyes at the drunk girl he had to walk home. Then he was all over the neighborhood drunk woman - hands in her crotch and kissing her - all in clear view. And what was so wrong with walking the drunk women home?

And our friend who was concerned about the drunk women who lost her dog told us about the cruise she and her boyfriend just took. They had a blast but she said they had abused their livers for two solid weeks. They did some snorkeling too. She explained that she always wears a life vest because she's typically wasted or on lots of pills while she's in the water. She's a smart, attractive women who also expressed amazement about how she can go to work in the morning, still wasted, and people think she's doing great work.

Then another guy who looks like he's stuck in a 1988 time warp came in. He's a slender guy with his hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail. He didn't have the bongos he usually carries with him, but he was equally as strange. He sat on the patio puffing his cigarette and sipping wine. He watched the cigarette come closer to his mouth then took a drag on it like it's the last smoke on the planet. Then he'd move his mouth into odd shapes while he watched the smoke disperse. He looked like he was having a peaceful acid trip. I've never talked to him and know nothing about what's made him the way he is.

Everyone has their story, but what I saw makes me not even want to take aspirin. It also makes me appreciate my simple, sober life with my red wine, fun friends and Lucy.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Facing a demon

I try to live life with no regrets, but I do have a few. Last night I faced one of them. It was a nonevent. Nothing. 

But two and a half years ago it wasn't nothing. It was enormous. 

At that time, I was well into my liberation - the time I needed to collect strength and confidence to get out of my bad marriage. My lover planned a stop here to visit me on his way home from a business trip. It was odd timing though because he would arrive on a Sunday morning and stay until Monday. It was complicated to explain to my husband about a quick overnight trip on a Sunday.

I made plans with a friend to cover for me and headed out to a city close by on Saturday afternoon. That night was me time so I could be rested and ready to pick him up at the airport the next morning. I did a little shopping, had a nice dinner and ended up at a funky little basement jazz club. 

The band was fun and I had a great chat about music with the keyboard player during a break. I had what was probably the best lemon drop martini I've ever had. 

But I can only have one or things get dangerous. 

It was a perfect night until one of the club's owners bought me another lemon drop. Then he suggested we walk to some other clubs. He wanted to show me around. It was Saturday night, so I thought why not. He took me to about four other clubs. We danced a little and moved on to the next place and the next lemon drop. by the end of the night I had at least six when I should've stopped after the first. They made me forget the man was a bar owner, not much to look at and way too old.

We ended up in my hotel room where we had crazy wild sex. My brain kept telling me to stop but my body was out of control. No matter what my head said, the lemon drops wouldn't let my body listen. I remember some of it. just enough. We were safe, but I was wreckless. Dangerous. I wasn't me and I regret the night ever happened. But it did. 

I cheated on my lover while I was married.  What do you even call that? I still don't know if it was my sad and desperate state of mind at that point in my life or if it was simply the lemon drops.

Last night my friend and I went to that same little jazz club. It was the first time I had been back since that night. I looked for that man - the club owner.  I had no idea what I would say or if we would even recognize each other after so long. He wasn't there, and next time, it won't matter.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Under construction

Yesterday my friend and I were talking about a row of town homes under construction in our neighborhood. They're nice, high-end homes - in the high $200,000s.

"When do they ever work on them?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered. The three-story structures have walls, floors, ceilings, stairs and even a couple of bathtubs, but this is how they've sat for weeks. I've jogged by them every morning for the last couple of weeks and have only seen someone working there once.

The other night I was feeling stir crazy in my apartment, so I grabbed my umbrella and took a walk through the drizzling rain. When I went past these town homes, I decided to walk through two of them and imagine what they might look like once finished.

My friend commented about how she wondered if the plywood gets weak after sitting there exposed for so long. I told her about how the rain dripped through the shingleless roof in several places and collected in big puddles on the slab. I think she's right.

This conversation made me think about how similar romantic relationships are. I know a number of people who have dated for years. They wait before moving their relationships along for careers, kids, money, getting to know each other better and a vast number of other explanations. I know this from dating my ex for three years before there was a commitment.

But what happens to the construction of that relationship while it sits exposed? People sometimes get comfortable and take their partner for granted. Insecurities develop and grow. Just like in a building, when these weak spots develop, they may be patched or covered up, but they never go away.

The damage happens while we wait. Wait to commit to one another. Wait to move forward out of that "under construction" stage so there will be protective bricks and shingles and windows that bring two people the safe commitment of being a couple.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

  

Time to grow a pair

For me, this blog serves a few purposes. It's a place where I can share strange and sometimes wonderful things that happen in my single girl world. It's also where I vent about things I can't get off my mind. I guess I hope someone out there will toss me back an answer or a solution to solve the problem. It hasn't happened yet, but I can only hope.

This post is one of those things I can't shake out of my head. It's about a couple that hangs out in my neighborhood. I don't know exactly why  they got together a year or so ago, but I know why they split up last weekend. It's not his or her fault.

They just don't work.

I also know he has no balls.

We've all known people who have broken off a relationship with a text or voice mail message or Post It. All of these are awful. This one's worse. He didn't completely break it off at all. He didn't end it in a way she understood.

But he's told me and others over the last week how she's going to need her friends now. "I don't know how to just be a friend to her," he said. He can say those things to me and other people, but not to his girlfriend of over a year.

A little over a week ago, they had a lengthy conversation about something that had just happened between them. She walked away from the conversation thinking he was considering what to do about their relationship.

What makes this situation even more tragic is what happened about thirty minutes after that breakup conversation ended. She came to my place for a glass of wine and to talk. After a long, teary hug, she started to tell me what he said, and then her parents' number popped up on her phone. It was about 1:30 a.m. in their time zone halfway across the country. It was her sister. Her dad wasn't breathing and the EMTs were on their way. She was hysterical. While she and her sister traded desperate cries, I texted the boyfriend to get over here. Now.

"I feel like such a jerk," he said when he arrived. I told him it didn't matter. Now it just infuriates me that all he could think about was how he felt. Who cares that he felt like a jerk? He is a jerk. By now, he should be used to it.

"My dad's going to make it!" she said into my shoulder while we waited for the next call. "He has to."

I couldn't imagine what she was going through in that twenty minutes that wouldn't end. It did end, and he didn't make it. Watching her grief broke my heart. Over the next couple of hours, I worked with her boyfriend to get her on a plane with a packed bag. She could only think enough to take a shower, but she made it there thinking she had another conversation with her boyfriend when she got back home.

About a week into her trip home, it made it back to her that their relationship was over. Since he didn't have the balls to tell her, someone else did, or she figured it out herself.

If someone doesn't have the balls to end a relationship, they don't have the balls to to start one. We have to check for balls before even considering a relationship of any kind. Not everyone has them.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Nasty dream

Early this morning I woke up in a panic. My ex was sitting next to my bed in hysterics while I slept. In my dream, he was overwhelmed with grief that his father had died. I'm certain his hand squeezing my arm is what woke me up.

The dream was so real that I looked around my bed and apartment for him. Then I googled my ex father-in-law's name for an obituary. Neither was there. I was relieved, but my heart still hasn't settled down. 

I never want my ex in my apartment again - especially while I sleep. But his dad is another story. He's a sweet and kind man. I miss him not being in my life and I certainly hope he stays among us longer. He was the one who kept reminding my ex that he should be nicer to me. He was the one who could relate since he put up with my ex's mother as long as he could. Like his mom, my ex clearly doesn't listen to his dad.

I know dreams typically are a mess of what's going on in our lives regurgitating back out while we sleep. My friend's dad passed away last weekend and I witnessed her grief. Another friend told me about getting together with her ex the other night to talk next steps with the house they still own. These events probably triggered my dream. But I don't know where my ex came in. That's part of what made it such a nightmare. 

For some reason, I usually don't remember my dreams. The couple of times each year I do remember is why they affect me so much. And I hope this one isn't an indication of things to come.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

SPLAT!

For the first time in my life I fell face down while I was jogging. I've gone running hundreds of times but never had a mishap, besides dropping my iPod, until this morning.

I blame myself for being careless. I've jogged in the park across the street for more than a year - up and down the same low-grade hills and on the even sidewalks. It was the same basic route every day to the point where I no longer had to think. I was on auto pilot. With summer's hot days, changing the route seemed appealing. Last week, I tried running the tree-covered neighborhood sidewalks and enjoyed the break from the hot sun.

It's a nice change. This route has brick sidewalks that are sometimes uneven, streets to cross and parking garage exits to pass. I traded the familiar but warm path for a cooler, riskier one. And today was my wake-up call to pay more attention.

It's not unusual to get comfortable in a routine. We do it all the time with work, relationships, exercise and even sex. Comfortable is nice, but it's good to change things up a bit so we have to be aware of what we're doing. So we have to think. Be creative. Notice surroundings. Be tuned into others. I've always heard there are more car accidents within a mile of where people live than anywhere else, and I have a hunch one reason is because people are comfortable in driving the familiar path and let their guard down. And then SPLAT!

Today's little mishap was small. I kept running since I had only be out for a few minutes. By the time I got home, the blood dripping down my arm from the spot where the pavement knocked out a chunk of skin had dried. My knee, thigh and elbow still sting and the bruises are starting to bloom.

I'm still glad I changed my routine. Now it's time to pay attention.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Neon white underneath

Okay, I know this is totally vain and frivolous, but what's a girl to do with the blinding white ass and tits we have in the summertime after getting a bit of a tan?

Have you ever seen this vintage Coppertone ad? Single girls worry about these things because we have to think about making good first and second and third impressions. One guy already told me recently how fashionable I would be - in the 1970s. And he wasn't talking about clothes because I wasn't wearing any.

I don't want to mess with the all-over tanning bed thing, and it's more dangerous than sunscreen under natural sunlight. And those parts are super sensitive, so it wouldn't take much to burn to a crisp. Ouch! Those awkward white body parts are what we get.

For some reason I've never been very concerned about white body parts until this until this summer. Since I'm pretty fair, a tan hides the tiniest of flaws. I thought about the at-home spray- or wipe-on tan but it will require major coloring within the lines, a little tough on the back side. Plus it wears off.  Can the guys just wear shades to even out the color with the lack of color?

I know I'll have to solve this before my next trip later this month, but I'm not sure how to solve it. If this is my biggest problem, I guess I'm doing well.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Feeling the love

How often do you hear "I love you"? These days I do almost daily. At first it made me uncomfortable, but now it means lots.

These aren't romantic I love yous but rather friend ones. And they mean more to me at this point in my life. They're words to never use unless you mean them.

My family doesn't say those three words often. In fact, I can't remember ever hearing I love you from them. So, I don't say it either. 

Nothing brought the importance of love closer to home than what happened to a good friend early this morning. She was sitting on my sofa a little after midnight upset over the argument she just had with her boyfriend. She didn't trust him to stay away from his ex and confronted him with a smack in the face the night before - according to him at least. She had had too much to drink and doesn't remember doing it. They left last night's discussion with him deciding if they could even be friends anymore. She was desperate.

Then her parents' number popped up on her phone. That can never be good in the middle of the night. Her dad was gone. She was distraught. I texted her boyfriend to come over quick and he did. While she cried on the phone with her sister, he whispered that he felt like a jerk. I told him it didn't matter. Together we got her a plane ticket halfway across the country and helped her pack a bag. He got her to the airport for her pre-dawn flight so she could be with the family she loves.

And we love her too.

Some day I may be brave enough to say I love you to a lover and maybe even my family. I'll never say those words unless I mean them. Until then, I feel more comfortable saying I love you to my dear friends. And I mean them.

Love to the single girls,
Addison  

Holiday families

Last time I was single, I remember how the little summer holidays like Memorial Day, Independence Day and Labor Day were sometimes lonely. My friends would spend the day with their families or with their significant other on the lake or a weekend away. I remember spending a few of those holidays doing my own thing.

Being alone was okay, but lonely. This time around, I've learned a valuable lesson. I've realized how important it is to know yourself. If you thrive on being social, live in an area or get involved with groups with people like yourself where you can be with others. If the social thing isn't that important, then no worries.

This year, I had an entire neighborhood family to enjoy the holiday weekend with. And we did. My older sister's young adult-aged daughters spent Independence Day eve afternoon and evening with us too. It was a rare and rewarding day together. They said they had fun. And the older of the two, who's about to venture out on her own, said she wanted to live in an area that was so close knit and fun. We had lunch then hung out at the pool for the afternoon. By evening, we moved to a different pool to the BBQ my friends were hosting - the one some of the girls and me made more than 700 jello shots for. Wow. Is one ever too old for jello shots? Then we moved again to my parking garage roof to watch an amazing fireworks show. Then we capped off the evening at the pub. My nieces were knackered and called it a night before I did.

We did a partial repeat of the evening on the 4th at a different location on a rooftop where we could see about 30 fireworks shows going on in all directions. Explosions in 3D with my neighborhood family.

I've learned I thrive on social interaction. It energizes me. But sometimes I have to retreat into my little loft to recharge (and work too). That's what I did yesterday and much of today.

Now it's time to play again.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A good near miss

Yesterday's Independence Day eve festivities were amazing. Back-to-back events with friends started with lunch then an afternoon by the pool and straight into a BBQ at a different pool then an incredible fireworks show from a rooftop. But after all of that, it was only about 10:30 so we moved to the pub where it was packed. Luckily the usual hot July night was mild so I spent most of the evening on the patio with a little distance from the drunk crowd.

But the evening ended on an odd note. The group walked toward our places and the last block I walked alone until I heard someone yell my name. I turned around and it was a guy I know running up the street toward me. We had talked a bit at the pub since his girlfriend was with her family last night. Since he's such a big guy, he also helped break up a fight between two guys who were throwing patio furniture at each other.

I don't know him well but he seems nice enough. He's decent looking, has a good job and doesn't cause trouble that I've seen. And he's always nice. But the longest conversation we've ever had was the evening he cried about his ex while we sat at the bar. He told me how much he gave and gave and she didn't appreciate it. That conversation was pretty revealing and made me pretty certain I'd never be interested in him as more than a friend.

We sat on the park's rock wall and talked last night and he told me we were almost together. Almost.

"Really?" I answered. "Did I have any say in it?" And how did he know I was interested?

His answer threw me off. "I didn't out of respect."

Oh. Interesting. "What do you mean?"

"You are so sexy and I wanted to," he said. "but I respect you."

"You have a girlfriend," I said. "So it doesn't really matter."

"I know, and I love her" he said. "I still want to be with you but I won't."

He said he knows about at least one guy I've been with. It was his friend, and it was a huge mistake. The entire conversation was a little offensive, but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean it that way. So I didn't say much more.

What was there to say? It might be a fun night. He's a big guy and would probably know just the right balance of rough and gentle since I'm so small next to him. But as I told him, it doesn't matter. I already know I'm not interested.

Love to the single girls, and happy Independence Day,
Addison

Jiggles

Last weekend I made jello shots with the girls for the Independence Day eve party tonight. We kept pouring them until we ran out of Jello so now there are more than 600 of them. And some of are really strong. I hope we didn't put so much alcohol in them that they don't get jiggly. That's the whole fun of Jello.

And one never really grows out of the yellow, orange, green, red and blue fruity jiggly stuff - especially for a summertime holiday party. People enjoyed them, but the people I knew best I told to avoid the green ones. They had Everclear. Yikes!

The warm summer nights bring up another jiggly topic. Girls enjoy dressing up in their pretty summer dresses - the sundress or strapless ones that show just enough of everything and are easy to put on - with or without underwear. Some are short, and others are long. And some girls wear underwear and some don't.

What made me think of this was the conversation a couple of guys had at the pub the other night. It was a weeknight and not too crowded. The guys had spotted a couple of girls we kinda know talking and dancing with their guys. They both had sexy summer dresses on with thong underwear. And both girls carry full behinds. They guys commented on them. They didn't say anything derogatory, but instead were neutral. They certainly noticed.

But what girls need to see is what they look like from the back. And I don't mean just standing still and sneaking a look through a mirror. They need to walk. What does that show-everything fabric share with everyone behind about you and your behind.

Face it. Some girls butts are jiggly. It's not a bad thing - in fact some guys like a little jiggle. It's just a fact. And girls need to know so they're comfortable with how they look.

Both the jello shots and the cute summer dresses were hits for my first real 4 July party.

Love to the single girls,
Addison