School's Out For Summer

School's Out Forever

 

 

This year and month marks the 20th Anniversary of my graduation from High School.

 

First off, there's no way that 20 years have gone by. Hell! I still can't even do fractions! While the changing of calendars doesn't lie, thank goodness my wrinkle-less face does. Pleased to meet you, I'm 28.

 

I was no huge fan of High School. If I was forced to rank my primary education from best to worst it would go: Elementary School, Pre-School, High School, Junior High. Junior High was the absolute pits. It didn't help that my most prominent physical features were an excessively large nose, a pimply face and hair that made Phil Spector's mane look enviable. I grew up very average in an extremly wealthy town. That doesn't help either. When everyone else was shopping at Benetton and wearing Keds, I was shopping at Bradley's and wearing Jamesway tennis shoes. I'm not sure anybody, at least girls, feel super comfortable when they're 12-14 years old. You're awkward. You haven't grown into yourself yet. Everything is just ICK. When you add what is considered to be "sup-par" clothing to the ICK factor; when you feel everybody else seems to look like they belong in a commercial, you're bound to feel a bit uncomfortable. It says something that I still have dreams to this day that I have to restart school all over again - as all humans are required to take K through 8th grade twice - at least in my nightmare world.

 

 

I don't want to give the wrong impression. I loved growing up where I grew up. I was very lucky to have a wonderful education - with my Elementary and Junior High Principal living right up the road from me. I was great friends with his daughter for many years. He remains a man that is loved by many, as everyone I know that grew up with him as Principal has such wonderful memories of that time. I loved growing up in the 80's and playing with friends in backyards and not worrying about anything. I loved my childhood. My parents moved to my hometown prior to it becoming a wealthy enclave of northern New Jersey. Prior to my older brother and me even being born. My Dad has always said we didn't "belong" there. He was right. What the town became, grew up around us, as much as we grew up within it.

 

High School was a whole other experience.

There were (and are currently) two High Schools for three towns in the area. Back when I was in school, you were assigned which HS you would be attending based on geography. I went to the High School that was in another town, but closer mile-wise. It didn't really make a difference to me. I had a small group of friends, and the majority of them were going to attend this HS with me. The bigger deal was combining two towns. Well, a whole other town and half of mine.

I can't even say much about High School. I was a nonentity. I participated little, except for an ill-fated attempt at "Winter Guard".* I submitted a few things to the literay magazine. I worked on a few issues for Amnesty International, and helped paint a few murals. I wasn't a stellar student, I wasn't a bad student. I excelled when I chose to. I was bored. I was average. Which suited me just fine, since Junior High was such a crappy experience, I was happy to be a wallflower that wasn't noticed. I wasn't seen... for anything good or bad. I had my trusted group of friends that I adored. We raised our own kind of hooliganism when we got together, that no one in school would of thought we were capable of, if anyone had thought to think of it.

*Wikipedia defines Winter Guard as: an indoor color guard activity, derived from Military Ceremonies or Veterans Organizations Ceremonies. Unlike traditional color guard, winter guard is performed indoors, usually in a gymnasium or an indoor arena. Performances make use of recorded music rather than a live band or orchestra. Winter guard ensembles commonly perform at judged competitions officiated by local and regional associations using criteria developed by Winter Guard International.

* Translates to: Teenage girls dressed as Druids in long robes of black with golden ropes and hoods, worshipping Stonehenge. All with flags and wooden guns. One which landed on my neck during competition. It wasn't cute. It wasn't cute at all.

 

I had two major crushes that were left unrequited - and unannounced. Although, I did come close to telling one boy the night of our Graduation Gala, but I chickened out. One crush jokingly nudged me out of a class one day, placing his hand on my back. Not only did I almost drop dead right there, I also didn't wash the shirt. Which sucked big time for my best friend, as the shirt was hers.

 

Over the last couple of months, notices and invitiations for the forthcoming 20th High School Reunion have been coming via Facebook. I highly doubt that I will be attending, as some of the interactions I've already had put me right back in High School - no, I retract that statement. I won't own that one. Some of the interactions I have had show that some people have never left High School. There are some people who never get over their Glory Days. There's a whole song about it,or so I hear.

 

There's regrets. I wish I had branched out more during those years. There's people I really wish I had gotten to know better. I wish I had remained closer with some people after graduation. Regrets are valid, but you have to move on and not make the same mistakes. Love the people in your life, and cherish those relationships. I think it took leaving High School to actually start learning that lesson. I'm so happy that Facebook has brought some very important people back into my life.

Certain people say that the High School years are the best years of your life. I can't say I feel the same way. However, I can understand the thought behind it. It's very structured, you know what you have to do in order to succeed, you see your friends all day, and you get summers off! On paper, that looks like an awesome deal.

 

 

Even with that though, I can say that I'm happy that (High) school's out forever.

　
With Love
Lady Butterfly
xoxo

There's a Glass?

It’s Evolution Baby

I'm going through a re-evaluation of sorts in my life.  A shuffling of the deck.  A review of priorities.  A User Assessment Testing, if you will. 

I’m not 100% sure I like what I'm finding, but I guess you wouldn't be doing a self-check if you felt you were already the bee's knees.

I'll admit straight out that I am a person who has the tendency to see the glass as half-empty.  I will always veer to the worst possible outcome to a situation (rather than the best), and I might have a few trust issues.   

 

 

That's for ME, though.  I am the world's greatest cheerleader for anybody I care about.  I see their wonderful qualities, and make sure they are aware of just how special they are to the world and to me.  I wish I saw me through Me.

My re-evaluation started late last year, when I just grew tired of being tired.  I was tired of being bored.  I was tired of being lonely. I was tired of constantly saying, "You know what I'd love to do..." and just never doing it.  I grew tired of knowing Me.  Then I got tired of knowing the Me that I wasn't.

I had to tackle the pessimism first.  I feel like that is the head of the beast.  If you automatically look at things through pessimistic glasses, then nothing you do can ever change.  It's doomed from the start.  I've worked very hard on trying to be a more optimistic person.  This might be an oxymoron, if I really think about it.  I imagine it's similar to using a cane.  You know it's not your natural walk.  It doesn't feel natural.  It takes a lot of getting used to.  You miss the old you.  In the end, however, it's much better than the alternative. 

Pessimism is like coming to grips with an "emotional outlook safety jacket", a jacket you put on yourself.  You walk around with it, you advertise it, and you make a statement out of it.  Like all fashion, however, it gets old.  Pessimism is not the little black dress of healthy emotional outlooks.

That said, I've adopted the "Fake It 'Til You Make It" regimen.  Since the idea of optimism is foreign to me anyway, I think the "hate it it/adopt it/ act it" rule comes in quite handy.  Amazingly enough, it helped.  At least for me.  I will say helped, as this is certainly going to be a long, long work in progress.  To those of you who have an optimistic attitude that takes little to no work - My hats off to you.   I admire you.   Very much so.

Pessimism covered; let's move on to Friends and friends.  I love both my Friends and friends.  I will do anything for them.  I'm going to be quick with this one and just let it go.  This one gets tricky with the difference between men and women, but I think the general rules apply:  If you find yourself always calling a friend and they don't ever call you, if you find yourself always waiting on a friend, if you feel that you can't call that person at any time: you don't have a Friend, you have a friend.  I recognize my strictness with this definition, but I stick to you it.  I completely understand people have lives and quiet hours. I'm speaking to the fact that issues occur for people at all times.  If you feel you can't call your friend at 4am because something big-to-you happened, that's OK.  They're a friend.  Little "f".

Family will even be shorter.  A sentence or two.  I will do anything for my family.  They are my life.  My support is limitless. As any family does, you do have to learn where to draw the line between being a shoulder to cry on/an ear to listen vs. the back that carries the load.  You have to learn to let go at some point. I haven't learned this lesson yet.

Let's end it with Priorities.  Where exactly, as a single woman, with no kids, a cat and a mortgage, do your priorities lie?  As a woman with no children, I certainly cannot speak to married ladies with children who have to juggle schedules.  I understand the burden you are under.  This burden is not singled out to women with children, however. 

What about that unknown segment of society who has and chosen to remain a single woman.  A career woman?  You are pretty much effed up the "b". You're responsible for everything.  You don't make what a man makes in your same position.  Shit, the man in your same position has probably been promoted two times over.  You don't get the tax breaks.  You don't get the moral support.  Hell.  You don't even have the guy who hefts the heavy loads into the car.

 

 

I'm working on myself.  With self-realization, comes anger. Then acceptance. Then either love or anarchy.

With Love

Lady Butterfly

xoxo

Lollipops and Paychecks

 

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

As my Birthday just passed, I think it's a great time to delve into the topic of what you wanted to be when you grew up. Did you want to be a fireman? A doctor? An astronaut or a politician? Did you want to be a banker, a pilot or a famous chef? All noble career aspirations.
 

My brother wanted to be a brick layer, and I wanted to be an Emergency Room Unit Clerk**. We had such high aspirations, even as kids.

 

• **Due to a certain speech impediment that I had as a child, it was pronounced Unit "Cluck". Since my mother was a "Cluck", I wanted to be a "Cluck" just like her. A fact that is still mentioned at most family gatherings. You must have thick skin to dine with my family, pretty much on any occasion**

 

Now that I'm forced to check the box that says "Single Woman 35-40", I find myself still asking that same question. "What do I want to be when I grow up?"

 

An unscientific and unverified poll conducted by yours truly has shown that I am not alone in my search for career meaning. Many, many people that I've "interviewed" have absolutely no idea what they want to be when they grow up. This includes late teenagers through mid- 60ers. It appears that you are certainly a blessed person if you knew what you always wanted to be and are actually doing it. Bully for you. You can probably stop reading now, as the rest of this blog will pertain to those of us who have no such insight.
 

 

As I'm sure we've all done, I ran the gamut of things I "knew" I wanted to be: A doctor, a music producer, a lawyer, an A&R person for an indie record label, a journalist, a sociologist, a social worker, even a zoologist at one point. Take note: I am currently none of these things today. Not even close. Not even a little bit.

 

 

I recall taking a test in High School when my career goal, at the time, was to be a doctor. This test was designed to find your academic strengths and weaknesses, gauge your reasoning skills and assess your talents in certain areas. I'm not sure how a Scan-Tron test can show these things, but work with me, it was the 1990's. The results came back which showed that I was ill-suited to be a doctor, but my strengths were high in agriculture and law. So I could be a farmer lawyer, or a lawyer farmer, but ixnay on the octorday. I'm not sure how any of my classmates felt about this test, but it really affected me! I felt this was the equivalent of someone telling me that you were too dumb to even attempt "X" career. Now, while some people would look at that as a challenge and say "Screw that! I always wanted to be a doctor, and I'm going to be damnit!", I took it as a slap to the face, since my career goals were never set in stone. And still aren't. P.S. I also think that this test should have been explained by a guidance counselor as merely an "assessment", but that's neither here not there. The effers.
 

Fast forward to today, and I'm pretty much in the same boat I was in 20+ years ago. I have no idea what I want to do with my career life. I have a good job. Work for an amazing company. Have an extensive background in my field. I make a decent living, that has afforded me the luxury of buying my own place in Northern New Jersey - which is no easy feat. Yet...I'm still waiting for that Big Bang Moment, when fireworks blaze and light bulbs flash above my head. I think I'm looking for a moment that doesn't exist.

 

 

I think my epiphany is that there is never going to be an epiphany.
 

When you're young, you say "I can't wait to grow up". Like being a grown up occurs at some absolute date and time. A portal that moves your from Kid to Adult at exactly August 10, 1995. At least, that's how I always thought of it. I still don't feel grown up. I'm still amazed I drive in rush hour traffic and attend business meetings. I'm floored that I have a Corporate Amex that requires a monthly expense report . I shouldn't be responsible for these things! I'm just a kid! Right?
 

Obviously not. I'm a grown adult woman who shouldn't get pats on the back for changing her car oil. Or be high-fived for paying the cable bill. I get that in my brain. My heart, however is still an odd-looking 15 year old that takes the bus to school and waits impatiently for snow days.
 

So, I'm back at square one - but with an extra bonus. I might not know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know the journey is approximately half over. The more time I waste waiting for something to find me, the more I am slowly becoming a robot. It's time for me to find something and fast. My blog might be a teeny little speck in the massive internet universe, but it's a start.
 

I'm also finding that the older I get, the less interested I am in finding the perfect fit. I'm more interested in trying on things that might be uncomfortable, to see how I handle it. I'm finding that saying "Yes" to things might be the best way to approach life. This is a new thought process for me and I'm dipping into that pool with a pinkie toe first. The people I find that I admire most are those that listen to their own drummer, do their own thing, and make no apologies. I'm lucky enough to have a small but deep pool of people that always inspire me. I'm learning to accept that what I consider my weaknesses, might be viewed as strengths by someone else. You are who you are. You work on what you don't like about yourself, but you never change to accommodate anyone else. While you can't necessarily let your freak flag fly in Corporate America, it's a grown up thing to acknowledge that you're OK by being simply you.
 

 

 

And when in doubt, it always helps to pop in Tom Waits' "I Don't Want to Grow Up" to feel like you've found a kindred spirit. 'Cause who really wants to be a grown-up anyway?

 

With Love
Lady Butterfly
xoxo

Moving Violations

 

Asses on Wheels

Early humans might have invented the wheel, but today's beings still haven't learned how to actually use it. Specifically, how to operate any sort of vehicle that contains said wheels. From high performance cars to shopping carts, we can't seem to grasp some of the basic functionality of this spherical phenomenon. Let's face it. Human kind is awesome at inventing things, but we absolutely suck at using them as intended. A quick Internet search will show you that Listerine was actually invented as a cure for gonorrhea. Makes you think of that mouth cleanser in a whole new way, doesn't it? Play-Doh was supposed to be awesome at wallpaper removal, not for kids to mold into goofy figurines or to squeeze through plastic heads in order to grow "Play-Doh Hair". Viagra was initially a medication for hypertension and anxiety. Well, I suppose this could still apply under the right circumstances.

I'll start off with my theory of why people behave the way they do behind the wheel. I believe driving a vehicle is hugely similar to leaving nameless comments on the Internet and acting like a giant turd. You're anonymous, you're safe, you are an unknown. I feel the same holds true for driving. People might only be a matter of feet away from each other, but you're still in you're cocoon that allows you to act like an ass without fear of retribution or consequence. Why else would people pick their nose in plain sight? You're not in Wonder Woman's Invisible Plane. We can see you, you know. It matters not. It's personal space that allows freedom for all. It's a shield against all others. But not really.

What is it about putting a person behind any sort of vehicle that leads to complete mayhem and idiocy? I'm being kind. A large portion of the population are already idiots, the wheel has nothing to do with it. Lets narrow down our population and speak only about those individuals who drive a car, ride a bicycle, use an elevator or steer a shopping cart.

The Ass Car Driver - Driving in New Jersey is the bane of my existence. People are just inept. Turning signals are never used, or never turned off. There is no understanding of what "merging in to traffic" means. Going 10 miles under the speed limit in the passing lane is common practice, and I feel, encouraged by Satan. Parking within the actual parking spot lines is merely a suggestion, and parking horizontally and taking up 3 spots in prime parking real estate is justified. (P.S. I don't care if you have a car worth hundreds of thousands of dollars or a rickety machine held together with spit and tic tacs, if you park horizontally in the front of any lot, you are a giant ass). While some of the behavior can be explained by the sheer amount of people - like the Genie in Aladdin, we have PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS! in itty-bitty living space - that certainly is not the full story. People in NJ cannot drive. We're not as bad as Connecticut, but we're close.

• A caveat: My personal pet peeve is the person hogging the passing lane by doing below or just at the speed limit. I will freely admit that I have a lead foot. This, however does not make me a bad, careless, or reckless driver. This means I am, technically, breaking the law. I counter with: speeding in itself is not inherently bad. Look at Germany's Autobahn that has advisory speed limits. Speeding doesn't cause an accident. Inattention and poor driving skills do. Get off the phone, stop texting, stay to the right when you're not passing, and drive. I can guarantee you that me going 80 mp/h is much safer than you going 60 in the passing lane while texting. Oh. And please stop performing your makeup, hair and shaving regiments in the car. It's absurd.

The Ass Bicyclist - I feel the same way about bicyclists as I do about pedestrians. You do have every right to be on the street. You have every right to be crossing the street. Never forget, however, that you're dealing with cars. Your rights mean squat when you are splat on the street. Bicyclists can be and are asses a lot of the time, as they do not follow the rules of the road. Hey. You. Bicyclist Person. If you want to be considered a vehicle on the road, pay attention to stop lights and traffic signs. If you're a vehicle, then act like one. Going through red lights and crossing traffic isn't cool. You can't want vehicular rights, and then not follow the rules of vehicles. Just 'cause you're in fancy pants and a cool helmet doesn't make you above the law. Hey. You. Pedestrian Person. Same goes for you. Minus the helmet. Unless you need one for other purposes, then peace be with you.

　

The Ass Elevator Person - Picture it. You're waiting for the elevator at the ground floor. You have selected the appropriate button, indicating your choice of up, and it is illuminated. This is the right and only choice. In walks person "X" and stands a few seconds, sees the button lit up, but says "to hell with it" and hits it again. Personally, I would like to punch this person in the throat when they do this. I cannot hide my displeasure. Did I not hit the UP button correctly? Was it not illuminated to your liking? Do you think you have the magic finger that will summon the elevator God? The elevator is a mechanism that works on a series of WHEELS and pulleys. Since potential occupants have no control over this carriage other than to push a button, they get antsy. They are overtly exercising their control over the situation, even though they have none. The only control they have is to not piss off their fellow passengers. Which we already have seen, is not the forte of any "driver".

　

The Ass Shopping Cart Person - So you've finished you're shopping, loaded your groceries in the car, and now you're left with a cart. What to do, what to do? Well, I'll tell you. This isn't opinion, this isn't advice. This is an admonition. Put the effing cart in the cart-collection area. It's clearly marked. Every place I've ever been that's large enough to require carts has a receptacle for receiving back said carts. Or wheel it back to the entrance. I know the idea of actually walking back to the entrance is shocking to some, but it might do you good. Let's take the flip side on this. How many times have you pulled into a parking spot thinking it empty and find there's a shopping cart parked at the junction of the four lines that comprise all four parking spots? Mother effer you say. Mother effer I say. You don't like it done to you, then get off your lazy bottom and put the cart back where it is not stopping someone from parking as they should. Shopping cart Karma can and will come to bite you in the behind. And usually in the form of a rogue cart being slammed into your car.

What have I discovered during my X amount of years driving? People are awful drivers and they're only getting worse. When in doubt, follow the truck driver. While some trucks can be complete traffic bullies, the majority know how to actually drive and not just how to steer.

The major point being is that transporting yourself from Point A to Point B, is not a pastime. I realize I sound old as hell. That should say something, 'cause I'm not old as hell. Yet. Your phone call is not more important than driving, your text is not more important than driving. Oh. And get the eff out of the left lane if you're not passing someone.

Finally, (this is from my Mom)... watch out for other people on the road. She always says, "How do you know that you're not passing a crazy person?" My answer is, "How do THEY know THEY'RE not passing one?" Road Rage does exist. I am an example of Road-Annoyance. However, I only have annoyance because other people are morons. If I didn't have to deal with Asses on Wheels, I would be a Zen-Like person. Maybe.

With Love
Lady Butterfly
xoxo

My Love Life in the 21st Century

What is Non-Existent for $800, Alex?

For those readers who don't know me, I'm sure it will come as a shock to you to find out that I am, indeed single. For those who do know me, I'm sure you're in shock that I am, indeed single. I'm in shock that I am, indeed single. When I see some of the married or "coupled couples" out there, I feel like I've been duped. I have no perceivable horns. I am relatively intelligent. I have a sense of humor. I'm supportive and open minded. I have two discernible eyebrows. Usually.

I just don't get it. I've had a few very serious relationships in my life, that have all ended badly. Not bad in the "restraining order/prison time" bad, but not well. Unfortunately, I have been on the receiving end of the kiss-off. Always the dumpee, never the dumper. I wonder if they make a card for that.

Mind you. I'm not crying. I'm not sad. I'm just perplexed. It reminds me of when I was sick the day they taught fractions in grammar school Throughout my entire life, I have never understood fractions. It's like there was a one-day only bus ticket on "getting" fractions and I missed it. I think the same applies to my (lack of) relationships. I seem to have missed the bus to Relationshipville. I've visited the outskirts of the town. I've even been invited to stay awhile in one of the apartments that are rented on a month-to-month basis. In the end, however, I was booted back to the hood of Singletown. With my head hanging low, and my tail between my legs, I joined the rest of the folks who just didn't make the grade in Relationshipville. I'm pretty sure most of my fellow people sucked at fractions, too.

I've found that people start to pair off beginning in their mid to late twenties. The age can fluctuate from geographical area to geographical area, as well as a certain states' acceptance of cousins marrying, but I think it's a fair estimate that people are starting to look at partnering-up from 25 and on. I was in a long term relationship at this time, and engaged by 24. I was unceremoniously unengaged at 25. Although, come to think of it, we never actually broke up. So maybe I'm still engaged, who knows? I wonder if his wife and kids know that I'm still engaged to this fabulous family man. Do I sound bitter? I'm really not. Hold on while I go grab the "F" key that just went zooming across the room.
 

In retrospect, this break up is the best thing that could have happened to me as a person. At that time it was a massive betrayal on several levels. This was the man I loved and the man I thought loved me. He was the man my family loved. The man I couldn't wait to spend the rest of my life with. I remember thinking to myself, while in the relationship, how lucky I was that I found the right "one" early in life. I thought myself blessed and I did not take that for granted. I guess I should have opened my eyes a little wider and taken off the rose colored glasses. If I had, I would have seen a whole different world. I was so busy being happy, that I didn't take the time to question anything. In the end, he pulled a typical guy move. Girls, you know what I mean. You ask what's going on, they get defensive and act annoyed, spitting out that "nothing is wrong". As you wipe the angry spit from your glasses, you retreat and he acts worse. Distant, snippy and cruel replace the kind hearted guy you used to know. You try to talk, he gets angry**. Round and round it goes until KA-BOOM. You do exactly what he's been impatiently waiting for you to do for probably months. You leave. You pack up some of your stuff, after you both agree it would be best to take a mini-break. He needs to get his head straight. It's not you, it's him. He's confused with life, not his love for you. Blah blah blah. What was supposed to be a one week time-out turns in to forever. Boxes are packed up. The engagement ring is returned, while your phone calls are not.  (**I'm sure there are girls that pull this type of garbage, but I have to say, this is really and identifiable male trait.  The clinical term for it is "noballsitis")
 

Thank God you have a great girlfriend who sweeps you up in to a dustpan and takes you out of your mind. She lets you get drunk, she always drives, she asks questions about the relationship and always, always is on your side. She cries along with you, for the loss of love and for your heartbreak.

 

Little do you know that this friend, this unexpected saviour, is taking notes the whole time. Marking down every inside clue to what your "ex" likes/doesn't like. Every thing you said went wrong, and all the things that you said went right. Favorite movies, funny lines, things only a loved one would know. This fabulous friend is a double-agent, you see. A friend who has been dating your fiancee (for you still think of him as such as you're still on a "break") on the sly and gathering counter-intelligence from the best source she can find. You. Under the guise of a shoulder to cry on. That's way harsh, man.

 

Even though this "friend" claimed she couldn't have children due to a long ago illness, she is now married to my still fiancee with a little girl. You're not telling me she LIED are you? I hear you not.


Recovering from this betrayal took a long time. While I dated casually, it was over 2 years until I felt I could even dip a toenail back in to the pool of a "relationship".

 

I'll sum this one up quickly. I chose another stinker. Dating for several years, with breaks in between, it was a complete waste of time. I learned nothing from this relationship other than who not to date. Which is an important lesson, actually. He broke my heart, but my heart had at least grown some scars.

 

So, let's sum this up bullet style, shall we? Warning signs that I have personally gathered that show that this ain't a relationship and/or this ain't a relationship going anywhere. Not a "Teen Beat" type of list, a 30 somethinger's list:

He's always late. Not 5 minutes late or 15 minutes late. He's always late late. If he can't respect you enough to be on time, then he's not big on respecting you.

• He's in his 30's and still hasn't moved out of his parents house. Run do not walk.

The only alone time you have is when you're in bed. If he still needs to be around his buddies 24/7, and can't have a date night with you alone, not a good sign. This is especially true when you are planning vacations or a special dinner, and he needs to include others. Not good.

• He says he'll do things but never comes through. You're going to the shore. You're going to such-and-such concert. You're going to the freakin' zoo. No follow through. Not good.

So, I remain perplexed. I've tried the Internet dating route, with limited success. The most encouraging and engaging person I met lived in Blackpool, England. And had a substance abuse problem. He was a really great guy though.

 

My peer group is mostly married, so the pool is getting smaller and smaller. I'm OK with never getting married. I'm OK with never having kids. I just wished I understood the playing field a little better. Damn! I wish I never missed the fraction day in grammar school. Unfortunately, if my dating life was a Jeopardy question, it would be " What is Non-Existent for $800, Alex?"

With Love,
Lady Butterfly
xoxo