Who knew Staples had cute guys?

I must be getting over the divorce. Today at Staples, a guy followed me around for awhile and struck up a conversation in the planners aisle. We chatted politely until he - gasp - asked me if I wanted to have lunch tomorrow!

I know why it all happened. First, I was high on life because my meeting a couple hours prior was such a smashing success, and Hindley (my nemesis) will be extremely disappointed to find out that she is no match for me. One of my pet projects is showing more promise than ever, and it is due to my hard work. AND it is despite what she and a couple others have done to sabotage it. Very immature, I know. In fact, someone stole my planner off my desk last week, but did it have any impact? No way. They don't know I write everything down in my desk planner, type it out in Google Calendar, then print it out at A5 size and pop it into my Franklin. So there, Hindley, take that too.

Anyway, I was probably smiling about all of it, so there's a chance I wasn't projecting myself to be a bitter spinster-type. Plus, I had on my favorite necklace. My lucky necklace. Also, when I sensed the cute guy looking at me, I didn't meet his gaze with a scowl, which I would usually do. I just had good feelings about most of the people there in the store with me. I was upset that I couldn't find the ink cartridge for my stupid printer, and spent forever over there looking for it. I saw Cute Guy walking past the ink aisle a couple times, with seemingly little direction.

After mulling over my choices at the planner section, I noticed Cute Guy stroll casually by. Then he backed up and picked a Dayrunner planner off the shelf. Hm. Leather and Dayrunner, I thought. Wouldn't work out. But Cute Guy replaced the Dayrunner. I continued to compare desk calendars, but Cute Guy just started talking. It was the most natural thing ever. He wasn't acting like a scared little 9th grader; he was confident and very laid-back. The opposite of me. So I thought that was great.

We stood around engrossed in conversation for an absurd amount of time. My phone rang. It was the office. I really did have to go. He suggested we talk more about South Mountain (and how people are trashing it) over lunch! I hesitated, and he said, "Well, at least give me your number?" I asked for his.

I don't know if I'll call him or not. But this is definitely progress for me.

Cute Guy was just my type, too, if I have one. Dark eyes and fair skin. Dark hair, although I don't mind light brown hair. Dressed casually. Don't know what he drives, but I'll bet it's a Jeep. Probably a couple years younger than me.

Because....

So. Am I ready to start dating again? Is it worth the bother? Honestly, I never even enjoyed sex in the first place.

I have always been extremely prudish, and that's no lie. I'm probably just ashamed to be a woman. Anyhow, when I met the X, I told him this big story about how sex is what men want and marriage is what women want, so I figure I was going to get what I wanted from WHO I wanted before I gave ANYBODY what he wanted. He said that was fair. Frankly, I was TIRED of wondering what all the fuss was about. I was in my late twenties, completely over the novelty of being a suspected lesbian, and oh my biological clock was practically ding-donging every day.

So when we finally got married, I couldn't hold out any longer. X was a virgin too. He's probably gay, but won't admit it. See how fucked up people are out there? And you thought your NEIGHBORS were weird. Funny thing is, we are both normal looking people. Nobody would ever suspect. I can't speak for X, because he's his own little being on this earth, and only he knows WHY he never had sex. He SAYS it was because he is painfully shy. He has always been shy. It always WAS a pain in the ass that he was so shy.

As for me, I'm just a feminist, but I ended up believing everything the feminist writers always said women are thought of as. I find it impossible sometimes to imagine that I could ever have sex with someone who doesn't think of me as anything but a "fuck hole." I have to laugh just thinking about it. It's not easy to "just relax" when you think, "OMG, I'm nothing but a fuck hole, and he probably isn't even thinking about me anyway. Look at him. He's imagining some porno he watched fifty times on Betamax when he was in the 7th grade before his mom finally found it and threw it away." That's honestly what always went through my mind. Or, "Oh fuck! I forgot to shave section 3, Area B of my left thigh. I'm sure he can tell, and any second now, he's going to lose his erection, roll over, and tell me to get in there and finish shaving. I can FEEL his leg RIGHT THERE, and he thinks I'm DISGUSTING." Hm. Wonder why I waited until close to 30 to finally have sex.

But now that I'm in my sexual prime, I'm starting to not really care what anybody thinks. For example, this guy in my office told me that my hair is way too long, and once a woman turns 30, she needs to get it cut. I said, "Hey, fuck you DALE, that's only if you have kids! I don't have any kids, so I'll keep my long, wild hair, thank you. Unless you want to pay for a cut at the most expensive place I can find." Then I said to another guy in my office, "Hey Mike, I'm going to cut my hair. What do you think, shoulder length?" And he BEGGED me not to. Truth is, I don't care what either one of them think. That's empowering. I just don't care. I think.