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Sh*t's about to get real up in here!

Updated: Mar 16, 2021

It all started with a kiss. In a bar that I can't even remember the name of. In a purple sequined Santa hat.

Surrounded by Santa Clauses, elves, reindeer, Mrs Clauses, and those 'regulars' that don't forget the name of this bar. You see, it had been five years, six months and eight days since the very last time I had been kissed. Some might find that pathetic. Others might laugh. Still others might cringe. I know.. I know... some of you are even judging me. A kiss! In a bar! With a total stranger?! (Gasp!) Because I am known for my sensitive nature, I will allow you a moment to absorb what I just shared. Lord knows I had to give myself a moment to feel my legs again after it happened to me. Do you honestly think I envisioned myself kissing a complete stranger (Gasp!) in a bar (Gasp!) in a purple sequined Santa hat (Gasp!) surrounded by an entire crew from the North Pole (Gasp!) after waiting... five years, six months, and eight days (Gasp!) to meet the man I have been saving that kiss for?! Hell no! But I am here to tell you that one kiss can indeed change your life!

For those of you still stuck back at 'complete stranger in a bar' I will warn you I am about to dive a whole lot deeper than that. My hope in writing this is that some might find laughter that is good for their soul. That some may gasp... but keep reading. That some may find themselves in my journey. And that other may discover the magic of a kiss with a complete stranger in a bar (use your imagination here ladies!). If you are someone who is easily offended- STOP! Sh*t's about to get real up in here. How real, you ask? How about five years, nine months, nineteen days and counting... since the last time I got down and dirty with a man- real! And to be honest, it had been close to two years prior to that that it counted as actually being 'down and dirty'. So to keep the lady crowd in step with one another- and for the sake of the gasp-ers out there, let's just say it had been five years, nine months, nineteen days and counting... since I last had sexual relations with a man. Okay.. and now for a collective gasp. "GASP!".

I am sure my confession has exploded a million questions in your mind that you are dyeing to ask me. I can guarantee that many, if not most, are the same questions that I have uttered to myself or wailed out loud in rare moments when I felt safe that no one was around to question my sanity.

The answer is 'Yes' to the most important of questions. I did survive! Contrary to popular belief, you actually do not physically die from not having sex. Do not allow any member of the male population to try to convince you otherwise. Just because he truly believes that he will die- maybe because he has two heads thinking the same detrimental thought (I warned you sh*t's about to get real) does not mean that he will. Or you.

'Yes' there are moments when you ask yourself, 'Am I fricken crazy?!' because it is a fact that sex does feels good. Tingle your toes good if you are with the right man. And right man does not equal Mr Right in all cases. For those who are the exception- You. Go. Girl! (BIG Emoji winking face).

'Yes' you will relentlessly try to convince yourself that you don't need sex anyway... Damn It! You just keep swallowing that lie, girlfriend. I mean this in the most loving, sincere way. Sex feels good. It's supposed to! Sex is good for you- with proven health benefits. Too many to count! Sex is meant to be shared. This is no way intended to shame those who share sex with their bad self. Have you seen the stats on how many 'shared' sexually transmitted diseases are out there?! You, my friend, must be the gate keeper of your Hoo-Ha. You cannot & should not ask, threaten, bribe, nor expect any other living soul to man that gate (no pun intended.. Ha!). Never! Under no circumstance! And you, well you will find this wonderful euphoric "I have arrived" head space where you no longer feel you have need for a man. Possibly ever again. You have tamed your mind and your body, your lifestyle has become as it should be. You embrace fully your contentment with finally finding yourself. Things are as they should be! 'Who needs a man anyway?' you laugh (Ha! Ha! Ha!). Your world is in balance. Finally! (Big pleasure sigh!).

Then a song comes on and your body just responds. I know you know what Ima talk'n bout. You can feel the beat light a match in your soul. You.Have.To.Move.Your.Body! The next thing you know he is close to you, so you move just a little bit closer. That girl inside you has some boogie in her bootie and she is not going to sit this one out. One song, turns into two- and before you know it, a third song comes on. There is a fleeting thought of 'I want this to last forever- to feel this and not have it stop!' But it does stop. And your eyes lock with his. And before you know what has happened his lips are on your lips. And you like it. When he moves you away from the gyrating crowd of bodies, he pulls you close and really kisses you. Tingle your toes... I have got to take a moment to fan myself kind of kiss. The dance that just minutes ago you wanted to never stop, well now you can see it has noth'n on this (I have to stop and fan myself now!). You gasp-ers out there, don't be haters! I am a woman after all, and I appreciate an attractive guy. And if he happens to pack one hell of a passionate kiss, you better believe I am going to enjoy it! Yes, he did give me his number. Yes, he did say he wanted to see me again. And yes, sadly I did text him- and not call. I texted a simple 'I haven't been out like that in a very long time. And I haven't been kissed like that in even longer. I just want to say thank you for a hot kiss, from a handsome man. That's all'. Now don't go giving me grief for not calling him, for not letting him invite me over, for not opening my gate (that was for you gasp-ers. Welcome!). You have to remember, my gates been shut tight and in-penetrable (that's for those of you who need some healthy humor!) for five years, nine months, and twenty days as of that text. I know some of you are annoyed by now with my 'thanks but no thanks' approach. Some of you may be applauding my 'It was nice but I don't do nasty' stance. And I already know the gasp-ers are still stuck back at the bar where I got some boogie in my bootie, formulating this picture of me getting my groove on with some random guy who happened to catch my eye. And... I didn't even know his name. Shameless?! Or was it?! And then there are the rest of you just dying to know... and the answer is 'Yes'! He did respond. He texted back, 'Hey baby, come on over. Let's git naked and see where it takes us'. So I did. And we did! (Winking emoji).

Do you honestly think that one kiss, one incredibly hot kiss (I might add) was convincing enough for me to give up five years, nine months, nineteen days and counting for? Nope!

His text, in case you are interested, was simple and sweet with a touch of sexy. It simply said, 'Thanks (smiley face) I don't normally dance like that or kiss strangers. You were too sexy tho (blowing kiss emoji). I think I just heard a collective "Awe' in the air. Over the course of six whole days we exchanged texts- some fun and harmless. Some outright flirty. And some the gasp-ers might be permanently scarred from. The things I noticed right away was his quirky sense of humor. His ability to speak so freely- which I admit is an area of constant improvement for me. His seemingly honest responses that came across as he had nothing to hide. And his passing the initial text challenge. No bare chest with bulging muscles pics. And no dick pics. He sent a regular but nice snapshot. A photo, I might add, that caused me to overheat just a tad (fanning myself now!). Remember that kiss I mentioned before?

I know some of you reading this just don't get it. And that's okay. Some of you want to get it, really bad in fact, you just can't. And that's okay. And some of you have been holding yourself back, dying to give me a big happy slap on the a**! And yes, there are also you Gasp-ers. All I can offer up is this, judgment can be a slippery slope. You may not agree with kissing a complete stranger, or texting a complete stranger, or even feeling heated thinking about a complete stranger- but I once had a female friend say to me, 'They have never had to walk in my shoes'. I must have heard that statement at least one hundred times before hearing it then, but in that moment when she spoke those words, something in my own thinking changed. So I will use her words kindly back to you. Unless you have went five years, six months, and eight days without a kiss from a handsome man and then happen to be kissed- really kissed, then you haven't walked in my shoes! But just because you are still with me, I will keep on keep'n on (winkie face emoji).

This is a great pause point to answer a few questions (I can see your hands in the air right now). Why yes, I do think about that kiss every day. Did I tell you it was a tingle your toes kind of kiss? Yes, I have considered at least fifty times over (possibly more) if I want to see more of him- and when I say more, I do mean more! Yes, I am intrigued by the kind of man he presents himself to be. Yes, I have weighed the pros and cons to the point that they cancel each other out. And yes, I am fanning myself right this minute (blushing emoji). Can one kiss change your life? Damn straight it can. It changed mine!

You see, before this time clock started ticking away in my life, I had experienced, and in no particular order... two painful divorces, seven painful splits (and not the kind you do in a leotard), four abusive relationships, five sexual assaults (that I have memory of), four devastating rejections (the kind that scar you for life), five heartbreaking miscarriages, a forced hysterectomy, forty-plus sexual partners by the time I hit twenty years old, a near-death experience, enough drugs and alcohol to damage me permanently, and a bottomless pit of self-hatred. This short and sweet list doesn't even include my life experience as a child. So I made a life- change, live-or-die decision at the ripe age of 43 to sever my ties to those things that broke me. I loaded up and got the hell out of dodge. Who knew then that I would plant my feet in a recovery program and date only myself for the next five years, six months, eight days and counting. Ah, but I digress. A fleeting thought just floated to the surface of my mind. I did go on three dates towards the beginning of my time clock. Yes, I had fun! We rode cruisers on the boardwalk in SoCal. Sat in the hot sun on the sand at a surf band concert. We drank margaritas in a beach bar that had the bouncer nervous he let in a minor (Hell Ya!). We had steak at an out-of-reach club house. And we talked and laughed late into the night. No, he never did kiss me, therefore... no, we never did get down and dirty. He was a great guy with all the green lights but I was just stepping into a new season of celibacy. I just didn't know it yet.

Okay, now back to that kiss! I want you to hear me when I say this. It may take a kiss... from a complete stranger in a bar... to wake your sleepy ass up! It is not a bad thing, or a dirty thing, and it is definitely not a shameful thing. It is just a healthy b*tch slap of reality that you have been asleep for far too long- and it's time to wake up! It is okay to have fun and enjoy your life, especially the people that the universe causes to wander into it. You deserve to laugh. You deserve to let loose. You deserve to have a little fun. You deserve to feel flirty, a little bit daring and vibrant. You deserve to feel horny (there- I said it!). And... you deserve to feel alive!

Who is it that you see when you look in the mirror each morning? Or do you choose to look- but just not see? That, my dear, is a flashing red light that you have let your inner self go to sleep. It can be a funny thing how we can put our inner self to sleep (take note- active, action, choice) and yet, at the same time, expect our inner critic to sleep silently alongside her. I don't know about you, but while my inner self was peacefully sleeping, my inner critic would come at me, both arms swinging, fists flying, eyes bulging out, challenging me. 'You have let yourself go (tsk, tsk)... Just look at those ripples, rolls and deflated titties (cringe)... No man is gonna want to get down with that... Just look how utterly boring your are... You don't even know how to have fun... Keep living sterile because that is the most exciting part about you... You, lovely girl, are going to sleep alone, be alone & die alone because no one- especially no handsome, sexy, decent man will want a piece of that'. And if that didn't affect me, my inner critic would whisper soft lullabies to my soul. 'Who needs a man anyhow... we got each other babe!' (I got you Babe <3 on replay). I imagine that some of you can see that your very own inner critic drinks from the same Kool-Aid that mine does. You see, truth be told, any handsome, sexy, decent man that might take notice of you- well, he is attracted to that inner you. The inner you that you put to sleep.

Before that kiss. At a bar. From a complete stranger- I had what I like to call my Adam Sandler moment. Don't get me wrong, Adam Sandler is funny, but he is obnoxious as f*ck! From the very first time I laid eyes on him I never found him to be even an ounce of attractive (even as sweet adorable Henry in 50 First Dates). But as I found myself watching The Do Over... BAM! Attraction to Adam Sandler happened! I believe I even said out loud, 'What the hell is wrong with me? Adam Sandler?' (Although it might have come out sounding more like F*ck Me!). I literally had to distance myself from that man. I had to put down the remote, take my hands off of my phone. I know.. and it pains me to admit this out loud, but I had even been obsessively surfing images of Adam Sandler online. To be even more honest, while writing this, I googled him again. Damn if I didn't feel a surge of BAM... again. (I will remind you, especially you gasp-ers, there is no room for judgement here- blushing face emoji). Just to give you a more balanced view of what kind of man turns my crank (a girl can use that term, right?) I thoroughly enjoy casting my eyes on Dermot Mulroney. Mark Wahlberg. Sean Connery. George Clooney. Eric Dane McSteamy. Zac Efron (again ladies, no judgement). Chris Hemsworth. Adam Levine. Channing Tatum. Ryan Reynolds. Matthew McGaunahey. Richard Gere. Harrison Ford. Patrick Swayze. Mel Gibson. Kevin Costner. Clint Eastwood. Heath Ledger. Ryan Phillippe (blazing emoji). Josh Holloway. I am sure I am forgetting someone (contemplating emoji). And the one that makes my senses go squirrely, of course, is Robert Downey Jr. Yowsa!! (fanning myself just from typing his name). And don't even get me started on Darius Rucker... that man can dance for me anytime! The reason it is important for me to dig up my long list of celebrity crushes is so that you can see and begin to understand what side of the fence my interest falls on. Where my level of attraction peaks. And no where, in that long exhaustive list, is Adam Sandler. (No intent to offend, Adam). But since my Adam Sandler moment something shifted in me. I felt it. Something in me was starting to wake up- I just didn't know it yet. Was I secretly attracted to Adam Sandler all along? Doubtful. Did I drop my standards of what I find attractive? Absolutely not. Did Adam send me subliminal messages wooing me to finally open my eyes to his simmering sexiness? I actually asked myself this very question when my Adam Sandler moment happened. But no, no, and no to all of the above. The truth is, just like I shared before, something shifted in me. And suddenly I found myself very attracted to Adam Sandler. (I know some of you have googled him just to see if you can feel the BAM I am talking about- Ha!). Yours may not be an Adam Sandler moment, maybe yours is more of a Bad Moms Christmas Santa #2 moment. There aint nothin wrong with that ladies! Justin Hartley- "Thank you for being your sexy self and giving us a very happy holiday vision" (flame emoji with a Santa hat on).

You might be wondering what an Adam Sandler moment- or a long celebrity crush list- has to do with anything, especially with a kiss in a bar, but if you stay with me the connection will make itself clear. That is, unless of course you want your inner self to continue to sleep peacefully (no judgement from me). That Adam Sandler moment sparked a lot of different things in me. The first obvious thing was that I felt attraction to a new man, a man I had never felt attracted to before (again, no offense intended, Adam). It was almost like seeing him with a different set of eyes, and feeling him with a different groove (if ya git what I'm put'n down, ladies ;). You gasp-ers, the ones who are still with me, did I just detect a hint of interest when I used the word 'groove'?! I bet flashes of 'How Stella Got Her Groove Back' flashed through your mind...and body! Cuz that girl definitely got her groove back! And that inner you, the one you keep all tucked in and comfortable and sh*t, well, she needs to get her groove back too!

Some of you, your minds just jumped to 'Whatcha gonna do with all that junk... all that junk inside your trunk. Ima gonna get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump! (Git it Girl!- Big winking emoji). And some of you are lookin' down at your 40-some year-old curves thinking the only groove I'm gonna get on is tryin' to squeeze back out of these jeans. Some of you are suddenly hearing your inner critic rise up to remind you of that extra 15 pounds you can't lose, your cottage cheese a**, those stretch marks you hide, your C-Section scar, your unshaven lady parts, and your used-to-be-so-fabulous boobies. Well, guess what? Some one out there likes a little cushion, he doesn't care at all about cellulite, or stretch marks, or scars, or boobies that don't look 25 anymore. Hell, he may not even care about your unshaven lady parts. WRONG! (smh!). Get yourself a razor or a long overdue appointment at the spa. How you treat yourself is how you are showing a man to treat you. And remember what I said about being the gate keeper of your Hoo-Ha? Well, make sure you can open and shut that gate! I know.. I know... I'll do it for you. 'GASP!'. The point is, you are what you attract ladies. The reason your inner self gets put to sleep is because you give up. Maybe you gave up because life was just too much. Too much to do, too much disappointment, too much expectation, or too much day to day bullsh*t. Or maybe you just gave up because of the pain. The pain of being cheated on, the pain of being abused, the pain of divorce, the pain of never being good enough, or the pain of being alone. Maybe you just gave up because you got tired of trying, of being lied to, or feeling overlooked and rejected. Or just tired of being tired. No matter what caused you to get to that place of wanting to go to sleep inside, you have to believe you were meant to be awake! You, my dear, are beautiful! You were crafted from God's very hand to be one of a kind. There is no one else, no one, just like you! No one else has your eyes. Or your lips. Or your shoulders. Or your hips. (hehe.. unintended rhyme). No one else has your breasts. Or your booty. No one else has your smile. Your laugh. Your tears. Your personality. Your sense of humor. No one else feels the things you do or dreams the dreams you dream. No one else can kiss like you, feel passion like you do, or get down and dirty like you do. Hell, I was 48 before I heard the truth that no two vaginas are the same! Gasp-ers, stay with me for a minute. I don't know about you, but I always believed the lies that been fed to me about my body- including my vagina. There have always been two kinds of vaginas. 'Theirs' and 'Mine'. And every man... or woman, wanted 'theirs'. Do you know how it feels to dislike, even despise, your own vagina? It is miserable. That alone is enough to make you want to put your inner self to sleep. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the rest of your body. I never even say Vagina and I just said Vagina six times- almost in a row! GASP! But if you can't say Vagina (#7) then, Houston, we have a problem! (To be continued...).

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