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

The fascination with tits?

There's an interesting phenomenon out there. People touch breasts. Both men an women. In public. Uninvited. The just reach out and touch. It doesn't offend me, but it's odd.

Last night, a group met at a local sports bar just to hang out. As soon as my friend and I walked in, one guy commented on being surrounded by great boobs. At least he didn't touch them. Yet.

A few minutes later, he reached out and touched one woman's breast. Okay, he touched it with a phone and not directly with his fingers. She just laughed. I often see guys touching her tits and she never seems to mind. I don't get it.

The guy came back to the table between turns playing pool. Each time he put a smear of blue chalk on all of the girls' chests. The first girl was completely caught off guard, then he escaped too fast for her to give him the reaction he deserved. He tried it with me, but I expected it and did a Wonder Women X across the chest to protect myself.

"You don't want some too?" he asked.

"No. Not really into Smurf cleavage."

Thanks though.

Then there's the girls touching each other's boobs. I think it's simply appreciation for nice ones. A little lesbian-like perhaps, but girls do it a lot. Natural boobs. Fake boobs. Touch. Squeeze. They're all fair game and part of the hello-you-look-beautiful-tonight ritual.

Is this a cultural thing in my area or is this a worldwide thing?

Love to the single girls,
Addison  

Where did my give-a-shit go?

I've never been that wrapped up in what other people think. Over the last week, I figured out I really don't give a shit. Not at all.

I'll wear what I want, go out with who I please and have the friends I like. My friends look at me and laugh then say, "I'll just live vicariously through you." And that's okay.

Some people aren't comfortable with me. I don't know if it's my confidence - or maybe that lack of give-a-shit coming through - but I'm comfortable with that too. Or maybe they just don't like me, and that's cool too. Others sometimes try to rattle me. They get all uptight and try to control, but I don't let them. Calmness and restraint is the secret. Very rarely do you see a calm person who isn't in control.

I admit, I sill have a very weak area. It's with real romantic relationships that need BFF approval. I suck at picking the right guys. I know I need help, and I'll get it when the time comes. I do care what my very best friends think.

But that time certainly isn't now.

I know I'm the toughest one to please, so if I'm happy with myself, all is good.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Grown-up crushes

When I first went out for my morning run, I ran into a man I've known from the neighborhood for about the last year. He walks his dog about the time I jog.

"Are you just starting or finishing?" he asked.

"Starting," I answered. "That's why I'm not dripping. It's hot out here already."

He agreed.

"Guess we'd better get this show on the road," I said.

"You look beautiful as always," he said. "I guess you know I have a crush on you."

I leaned down and petted his dog. "Have a good walk."

What do you say to that? I was just putting my ear buds in so perhaps he thinks I didn't hear him. I did very clearly.

There's a very fine line between sweet and a little creepy when it comes to grown-up crushes. He seems to be a very nice man and just not my type. But the adoring looks and flattering comments have been going on for a year now. It seems especially odd when I see him during my run - perspiration-stained baseball cap, sweaty socks, no makeup and just-rolled-out-of-bed ponytail.

This is the second time in the past week I've heard about a grown-up crush. The first time was when a man who's been my lover for a while asked me what I was talking about with a particular woman. When I asked him why, he said she has a crush on him. I know what that means - he's fucking her. I've heard the same before. That reminds me, I need to make sure he doesn't tell others that I have a crush on him. After three-and-a-half years, I think we're beyond crush stage. And I'm not the crush type.

A grown-up crush doesn't mean you or the other person has to act on it. Those innocent crushes can turn into creepy fast.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Fabulous in the 1950's and even more today

There's no better place in the U.S. to buy vintage clothing than LA. Every time I'm there, visiting American Rag, my favorite store, is a must.

A year ago I bought five dresses - three from the 1950's and two from the '60's. I have worn and adore them all. They're beautiful, well made and inexpensive. Most have needed a little tailoring that leaves them fitting like they were made for me. And no one will ever show up wearing the same dress.

This year I found one more 1950's dress - this rich red damask satin that I can't wait to have altered down to my size.

There was also a gorgeous dress I bought for my friend who was watching Lucy while I was away. I won't describe it until I give it to her. That would totally spoil the surprise (so come back in a couple of days and I'll add a pic).


Then I found a real treasure. Another friend had asked me to check out their vintage jewelry collection. She likes vintage turquoise, but their collection was only the big plastic 1970's-style necklaces and bangles.

Nestled in the orange, blue and white chunky jewelry was this early 1950's evening bag by Pierre Cardin. Its ecru patent leather with the most exquisite pewter and bronze beading made me have to have it - even though it cost well over $200. The bag looks almost brand new and it's likely about sixty years old.

Just imagine the smartly dress women who carried this beautiful bag one evening. I wonder where she went and who she was with. I hope she was a single girl who bought this amazing accessory to accent a new outfit for some special occasion. And I hope the people or person she was with was more special than the occasion.

Every single girl should splurge if she can.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Resolve

This has been a trying week on the relationship front, but one that resolved.

Neither of us changed, but we understand each other better. We know what it will take for this relationship to last another three-and-a-half years or more.

I know he'll never be a monogamist. I also know he sometimes retreats - doesn't respond to calls or texts. Neither is personal. It's just the way he is, and I accept it. He knows I have to be treated with respect. He has to communicate with me - honestly - for this to work. He also knows we have to see each other every few months or we start to become strangers. We're half a country apart, but it never stopped us from meeting up before. None of these things are new to either of us, we just needed a good reminder since we've both been through so much over the last year.

Since I met him, I thought I had a bit of an addiction to him - his bohemian personality, swag and his abilities as a lover. Now I think that addiction may go both ways. Our relationship is in a new place. A place based on respect for each other and on endless passion for raw, hot sex. It's simple. We care about each other and feel good when we're together.

We all deserve to be happy, and I am.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Some people can love again

Some people who read this blog may think I'm cynical about love. Maybe I am - for now at least.

Tonight I have a renewed faith in love.

I'm at a conference. There are more than a thousand creatives of all types here. This conference gives me a chance to catch up with friends I haven't seen in six months or a year and meet new ones.

I had just heard an update from a woman about her bad marriage. She's finally had enough and has talked to an attorney to prepare to leave her husband. She needs to soon. Another friend left her husband more than a year ago but he's dragged out the divorce way longer than it should. They both need to be able to move on.

Adding these stories to the others of failed marriages and relationships have started to weight on me. It's hard to make a relationship work. I'm a prime example of that.

But it starts with picking the right guy. A guy who's considerate and respectful. One who takes care of himself and you - and lets you do the same when the time's right.

I saw an example last night that can work. It's a couple that had been friends through each other's divorces. I watched their relationship trickle out on Facebook and  this is the first time I've seen them together as a couple. Live. What I've observed so far is a happy pair. They treat each other with respect. Best of all, they make me happy when I'm around them. They have time together but they don't shut out their friends. These two single people found each other and now their helping bring back my faith in love.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

My own little identity crisis

Two years is how long experts say someone needs to recover  after a relationship or job ends. I agree.

After Divorce or Job Loss Comes the Good Identity Crisis. Read it if you've ever lost a job or someone. It's good.

Like the article mentions, there are the little things like which side of the bed to you sleep on and when do you eat dinner. The beauty of it is that it doesn't matter! You can sleep and eat and watch TV whenever and wherever you want. Or you can skip it all together. 

I'm a little over a year into my divorce recovery time and I know I'm not ready to move on. There are so many awful memories and bad feelings to get over. So much healing to happen. So much happy to find before diving into dating and relationships again. I can tell especially when people decide it would be such a good idea to introduce me to men. I get nauseous. Really.

Don't get me wrong, I love going out and meeting new friends - guys included. I've been out with a number of guys over the last year. We have fun, but it's not long term. I'm looking or friends not love, and they know that.  

The other night a guy I know cornered me. He broke up with his girlfriend of a little over a year a month ago. He was telling me how he has to "learn how to walk again." He's right, and I told him it may well take many months. 

Another example is the guy I went out with for a couple of months earlier this year. The BIG RED FLAG from the beginning with him was that he and his seven-year girlfriend had just broken up. She moved out of his house exactly a week before the first time we went out. I knew there were issues but he was fun and the sex was great. For a while. And he gave lots of entertaining topics for this blog like my Dating Rule #6 about falling asleep and the one about my vagina being on fire. Literally.

One day in March we just stopped. I got tired of him and he probably of me. Then all the sudden he started spending 24/7 with another woman. She has kids and the two of them appeared to be in love within about two weeks - on Facebook at least. 

That's way too quick. I'm not sad or jealous. I don't even miss him. I'm the lucky one. When a relationship happens, I'll really be ready, and maybe next time it will work.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

The sweater

Last night I went to a very nice dinner in a beautiful Santa Monica home. The other guests were mix of people I know and don't know professionally, and they're all creative types - authors, illustrators and others who work on the publishing industry.

The dinner was poolside, and it gets chilly at night in LA, so I wore a new sweater.

It's one of those cute cropped ones in the stores for fall, and it was perfect with the gunmetal Michael Kors jeans I treated myself to earlier in the trip.

But I'm not sure some of the more conservative diners liked it as well as I did. Since the sweater is cropped, my tummy showed a bit. And I wore it proudly.

Throughout the evening, random women looked at my mid section. They gawked - two feet away from me with huge, disapproving eyes. Subtle they were not.

As if they've never seen a belly button before? And it was LA for god's sake.

Men had a different reaction. If they looked they were subtle. I had nice conversations with both men and women. Professional conversations. Appropriate conversations. And eyes were on faces, not belly buttons.

I guess I could have worn a shirt under it, but why? I have pretty decent abs, and I don't mind showing them. My jeans weren't too low and there was no cleavage - important bits were covered. I, nor anyone, should not have to apologize if they can't handle a belly button. 

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Stuck

This has been a frustrating week. I've questioned my trust in people and doubted my judgment, but I've also grown in my journey to heal and get smarter.

For a while, I just felt stuck. Trapped in the middle of self respect and desire. Then something changed.

I took control. Became unstuck.

It may not be control of an entire relationship - the whole novel - but I'm in control of the next scene in this story. The control is in my hands because I know the facts. It doesn't matter what people say. It only matters what I read, observe and hear - especially when it doesn't match what people say. That's where I lose trust.

I know, it doesn't sound like much. It's a baby step. When I don't trust someone, it's much easier walk away.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

A little too much fucking going on

What do you do when you find out your lover is fucking someone you know?

Okay, that's a little unfair. I haven't seen them fucking, but I have seen the signs. I saw her watch her phone throughout dinner, then I spotted his name on the top of a screen of texts. Not long after, she went up to her hotel room. They may or may not hook up, but she was certainly expecting it. She was obsessed with seeing him. And she was a little catty about it all.

She was so obsessed that I thought about texting him and encouraging him to spend time with her. Then she needs to know - or be reminded - that no one person can have him. Monogamy is not his thing. If a girl can't share she shouldn't go there at all.

The fact is, he was hitting on another women right in front of both of us two nights ago.

So what do I do about it?

Probably nothing. We have no commitment. There are no expectations for anything beyond friendship and hot sex. I'm in this for fun. As long as we see each other, communicate and he treats me with respect, I'm happy.

And the sex is and always has been fabulous and safe.

When people travel on business trips without their families - especially to conferences - I've found a little too much fucking goes on.This scenario made me look around the hotel bar tonight and wonder who's fucking whom. I know it was happening. Are that many people in bad marriages? Are they all just that obsessed with having sex? Some may turn into real relationships, and that makes me happy. I do worry about who might be hurt with all of the recreational sex going on. Husbands, wives, children may be back home preparing for a happy home coming that may never happen.

Then there are people like me who who truly were in a bad marriage, and having a lover helped me wise up. Move on. There is no judgment here, but since I have wised up, I can move on when this relationship stops being fulfilling.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Different kind of escapes

It's interesting to me what different people do when they're stressed.

I've always turned to people I trust  to help me through the tough times. When things are really tough, I tend to go it alone. I retreat until I sort things out - or at least decide what to do to fix it. That way, I know it's my decision and no one else has influenced it.

While I was married, one of the first red flags that the relationship was going south was that I didn't turn to my husband for comfort or advice when I was stressed. I didn't trust him. And on top of that, his idea of advice and comfort sucked. He thought fucking would solve everything. Trust me, it didn't. 

When my friends are stressed, I try to be there for them to listen or talk about it or not talk about it or sit with them or leave them alone. Most of my friends tell me I'm calming. All I typically do is listen. A caring ear and a hug usually helps more than sharing words of wisdom.

I'm spending a little time over the next few days with someone I consider a good friend. He's also an amazing lover. He's been there for me when things were bad. He's helped me be regain the strength and confidence that got buried so deep during my bad marriage. 

Now he's going through tough times. He's on the path to improve his life but things don't always go as planned. I know I can't fix things but I care and want to be there for him. That's what friends do. That's not his style though. He retreats. He slips back into an introverted comfort zone. Alone.

When we saw each other last night we picked up where we left off. He doesn't want to burden me with his problems. So I let him know I'm always there for him. Perhaps being together is his escape.

That's what friends do.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Ask first, perhaps?

The other night, a group of friends went out to dinner. One was a guy I've gone out with a few times over the last year. We're friends and fool around on occasion, but he did something really strange that night. I have a strong hunch he thought he was staying at my place that night. But he forgot one important detail - asking me.

Over the weekend, he moved house from five minutes away to about twenty minutes away. He had to be at his old place that's now empty to let the cleaning service in the next morning.

I overheard a conversation he had before dinner when he said, "...if I go home tonight..." 

Then later that evening, I told the group I was headed home. He seemed shocked. "You're leaving? Now?" 

"Yes," I answered.

"Oh." He looked like I had just ruined his plans. But they were his plans and not mine.

I hugged him and my other friends and went home. The next day he called me to meet for lunch. I had just made a salad at home and was about to head to the airport so I couldn't join him.

Three days have gone by and it's still bugging me. Why did he assume he would crash at my place? Why didn't be ask me? Why didn't he buy my dinner or at least a drink? This single girl's wising up. 

Love to the single girls,

Addison