Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I went back to my dentist yesterday. I LOVE my dentist! He is really nice, funny, a gentleman with a southern drawl that makes me drool (even more than I should!)… damn it, he is one hot dude!! Not particularly my type -he is a little too much of a pretty boy for me- but I can still admire *Grade A* when I see it. I have to say that I do tend to favor the more masculine, broad-shouldered types, with the not so chiseled face and a few extra pounds. However, it doesn’t hurt to have any part of your body fondled by a hot guy- even if it’s just your mouth and even if it’s with a needle… and especially when he’s telling you he’s going to “juice you up a little bit more”!

While sitting at the chair, I realized that I have always had issues with pretty boys. They make me nervous and uneasy. I get sweaty and talkative. Not good… not good at all! Not one to be very popular with the boys when I was younger, I decided to drop 45 pounds and date anyone and everyone that came along. This was my attempt to get my very own ‘pretty boy’. I dated strippers, models, gym buffs, surfers, actors, cops, teachers, students, psychologists, waiters, musicians, scholars, architects, engineers, geeks, jocks, idiots, liars, sex addicts, alcoholics, divorced men, older men, and an occasional married guy here or there. I am sure some of them have come out of the closet, too.

In any case, I noticed that the only people I cared about were those that allowed for me to be the self-centered bitch that I wanted to be… and most of them –if not all- were not wrapped up in a pretty package. So, I decided to nix the pretty boys in favor of those a little bit more aesthetically challenged. Why? For one thing, they were so much more appreciative of having someone –anyone- to go out with on a Saturday night, most were true gentlemen who took life much more lightly and just wanted to have a good time, but most importantly, most were eager to make me happy. The best part? I never had to go head-to-head (yeah, literally!) with my dates on a looks contest. I never wanted to be that girl who everyone thought had gotten lucky to have a hot date. I wanted to be the hot girl who some average guy was very lucky to have. Call it the ‘rescue syndrome’ or just plain vanity.

Honestly, I truly wonder what my dentist’s wife looks like. It has to be difficult to be married to this ‘Adonis of the Teeth’. Then again, she might just be gorgeous and quite the ‘Aphrodite of the Teeth’ herself. Or, maybe she’s just a fatty who got lucky and didn’t care to walk in the shadow of beauty…

Making Lemonade

I did it… I finally walked out on my life on Sunday night. It was a long time coming. No, I’m not happy about it… the whole experience was very bizarre. I am not particularly sure of how it all came down, but I do know that I ended up at the grocery store buying baby food at 10 pm and bitching about it to my best bud over the phone.

Really, the only thing I remember was that I was tidying up my house and Ares was heating up some pizza from the night before. I wasn’t hungry, and I had told him so a few times over but, as usual, Ares decided that I was going to eat- against my will –because we all know that, at 31 years of age, I still don’t know how to make my own decisions, right? Seriously. Sometimes I think that I speak to him in rubbery tongues and that’s why my words always seem to bounce off his hard head (WOW! That could almost be a line in a porn flick!). He sat down, shook his head as if reprimanding me for not coming to the table *right-this-instant* and began to complain profusely about me cleaning up the house. One second later, I just ignited…

After I came back, I decided to just start taking things one day at a time… no looking ahead. It just makes life easier when you don’t have any expectations so that you’re never let down. I wake up every morning now, and if I have a good day -great. If not, then hopefully tomorrow will be better. Is this admitting defeat? Ares and I have some serious shit to work through. He needs to stop treating me like I'm 5 years old... really, is it too much to ask to let me be and stop controlling what I do, when and how I do it? Shit! I am so fed up, even the make-up sex –as darn awesome as it was- just didn’t do it for me this time around. We’ll see how well we can adjust to the new attitude…