Slightly overweight cougar seeks hot, young stud to make steamy yet meaningless memories. I am almost forty, almost sexy, and I almost have enough money to keep you slathered in baby oil for many months to come. You don't have to take me out to dinner, buy me flowers, or call me the next day. In fact, don't even bother to save my number to your cell phone contacts. I'll call you when it's time to get this party started and I'll hold the door for you when it's time for you to leave. Let's make some beautiful, albeit temporary, music together...
No good? Well, it is my first draft.
It's official. My husband and I are separated. Stop feigning shock and dismay; everybody saw it coming but us. Okay...everybody but him. You know what this means? I am a semi-free woman. I can come and go as I please and... um, well, that's pretty much it. Having been semi-free for approximately twenty-five days now, my question is this: what the fuck is all the hype about being single? It sucks. No, really. It absolutely fucking sucks.
The only way that "single" works is if you have other, fun and exciting friends with whom to share singlehood. That way, at least, you don't feel so alone in your singleness. You can then tell yourself that you're not really single; you're just not half of a couple. There's a difference, you know. Goddammit, I said there is a difference!
Well, guess what? All of my friends are half of a couple. They're married, in committed relationships, in adulterous relationships, in open relationships, in struggling relationships, in bad relationships, but THEY...ARE... ALL in relationships. On a Friday night when I'm looking to go out, have fun, and drink my cares away, my only options are: 1. drink alone, 2. get the cat wasted, too, or 3. be the shameless cougar at the bar. I think there's a law against giving animals alcohol, so that takes me down to only two options. And that shameless cougar thing? Let's just say that once was enough.
So what did I do? I went to bed. At 10:00 PM. For the millionth Friday night in a row. Just like when I wasn't semi-free.
I soooo did not see that coming.
Where are all the happily single people I keep hearing about on TV? Where are the Samanthas and the Carries and the Mirandas? The Barneys and Teds, the Sheldons and Pennys? I need them to light the way. I haven't been single since June of 1991, so I have no recollection of how to do this. I need some help and I need that shit like yesterday.
Besides the horrible loneliness, there's another unfortunate side effect of being single: I'm being hit on by every old, toothless, unemployed, smelly wonder imaginable. Oh, there was that one Palestinian roughneck with the gold tooth who kept winking at me suggestively as he bagged up my catfish nuggets and coleslaw. He was working at the local cardiovascular disease-friendly "restaurant" at which I spend fifty percent of my paycheck. Standing there in his white tee with his pants sagging around his ass, showing his Spongebob boxers...You know what I was thinking, don't you? Mmm mmm mmm I gots to get me some of that!
And this is how you know it's been way too long since the last time you've had sex.
I'm not even going to bother apologizing for my absence again. Cut a bitch a break...I'm stressed the fuck out here.
But in the spirit of ass-kissing, let me say that I love you guys because I know that there are people out there who actually do love me instead of merely paying lip service to the whole thing.
X's and O's!
