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That’s a Mighty Fine Driver You Have There Sir: The Un-fore-seen Benefits of Golfing with Your GF

basket-of-golf-ballsToday was a first. The left side of my mid-back is whispering caution to me. It’s rather insistent that tomorrow I may be in some pain. The right side is nodding in agreement.

My sweetie finally took me to the driving range. Brave? Yes. But not brave enough to take me out on a for-real golf course, and who can blame him?

About midway through the ‘jumbo’ bucket of balls, I thought that I had hit him in the back. You see, I made contact with the little white devil, but it took off toward my baby on a trajectory akin to tiles blowing off a space-shuttle. I must have missed his left ear by an inch. For a full two hours, he patiently took me through a range of clubs and tried teaching me the basics, and he didn’t swear once…out loud.

bad golfer

As you all know, I’m incredibly patient. Ok, maybe a teensy-tiny-eensy-weensy-bit patient. Or not. By the time we were chipping,  I held out my hand and let him know I was already an expert and his blathering was unnecessary. My chipping as it turns out, sucks.

My putting is slightly better if I have my arms over my voluptuous breasts, which means the damn club sticks out perpendicular to the ground and I have to bend over like some weirdo with a metal detector on the beach to ‘pendulum’ like my sexy instructor was trying to demonstrate. You see, his breasts are significantly smaller than mine, and penduluming is not such a challenge for him.

I made contact with the ball (most of the time), and if I were aiming 120 degrees to my right, I was dead on target. By the time I finished with the driver, I could really appreciate my man’s talent.

And maybe that’s why I think I’m going to love the game. A woman like me likes a challenge, and some fun. I can’t wait to go again.  Perhaps when my man buys a helmet he’ll take me on another hot driving-range date.

Laugh as you may, it was a great way to spend the afternoon. I’m a strong, confident, capable woman. There are very few things that a man can do that impresses me to the point I’m actually attracted to him because of it.

But today was the day for my man. He was good at it. Like, crazy good. He made it look easy, and I was struggling to even connect.  It made me kinda hot for him, in that grrrrr, you’re a manly-man kind of way.

He doesn’t know it yet, but his patience may just pay off for him two-fold. He may have a willing partner to hit the links with every chance we get, and he may also have a lady who needs to go immediately home for some good lovin’s when we come off the course. All of a sudden, I can appreciate his driver just a little bit more.

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And Then He Kissed Me – Again – No Kidding This Time

John Quinlan
John Quinlan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The universe has a silly and cruel way of picking me up, putting me over its’ knee, and giving me a hard tap on the bottom whenever I think I know what to expect.

As deliciously seductive as that may sound, I like to think that I’m more mature than that darlings.

I like to think that having been around the block a time or two, I know every trick in the book. I like to think that, but I’m wrong, wrong, terribly wrong, when it comes to some matters of the heart.

If you read my last post, “And Then He Kissed Me”, you’ll know that I was giving some of you a bit of a tweak on the bottom to get up, out, and onto the next lucky lover.

Today, I walked right smack-dab into the middle of a grand spanking of consciousness.   The universe is trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what it is. Perhaps, as my friend Darleen thinks, it’s simply telling me to quit going to my favourite coffee shop. Thank you, Darleen for your pragmatism.

This morning, waiting for my half-sweet-whatever-was-brewing, I experienced  that eerie feeling of being watched. Looking up, who caught my eye? No, not some long-lost love my darlings.  It happened to be a-not-so-long-lost-I-don’t-know-what-to-call-him.

I wouldn’t call him a ‘fling’. It didn’t last long enough for that.  I wouldn’t call him a lover, although we do have some intimate knowledge of one another. I wouldn’t call him anything other than a brief blip on my man-radar. An entertaining little shenanigan which lasted one rather long Saturday , into the wee hours of the next morning.

I do seem to recall having nicknamed him,  “L’Enfant” when recounting our chance second meeting to my fabulous, but very married gal-pals.

You see, I met L’Enfant over a year ago while doing some writing on a snowy December evening.  I politely declined getting together due to our vast age difference (ok darlings, not so politely – I stood the poor kid up at the very last minute).

We met yet again this spring, and I thought it was more than just coincidence, so I consented to one simple day time get-together in a public place. You know, just to see if perhaps my kinky universe would reveal a greater purpose. It did not.

On the surface this charming young man was entertaining, inspiring, and a huge shot in the arm for my ego. But I know better than to indulge in something like that. There is always fallout, and inevitably, a small piece of jagged shrapnel gets imbedded deeply in my psyche and wiggles around, causing discomfort for years.

I took the encounter for what it was – a distraction from the mundane, and an experience to reinforce my idea that I shall no longer waste my time on men who do not hold the promise of something  absolutely delicious and sustainable.

So, today, as the barista finished making my whatever-you-want-to-call-it, I took a seat across from L’Enfant, and chatted with him about his work, the Syrian crisis, the new iPhone, and sports. That is all.

I wonder about meeting this little cutie-patootie for a third time by chance. I simply wonder.  If he were 10 years older I wouldn’t be sitting here typing about my curiosity. Instead, I would have found a way to be making unabashed, passionate love to this fellow under blankets by the river…..

Perhaps the universe is just feeding my imagination for a while, stirring hope, wonder and a bit of inspiration?

Time will tell my sweet little peaches. Time will tell….

 

 

 

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Ten Traits Your Autumn Man Should Have

Autumn Stroll
Autumn Stroll (Photo credit: MTSOfan)

It is a proven fact that men and women start to settle down into warm, cozy relationships as the weather cools off. Known as cuffing season to the more cynical, autumn is also the time for settling down and getting your snuggle on with your true love.

Often, my darling gal-pals and I discuss the wonders and horrors of our manscapades. The things we love, and love-not-so-much about our deliciously delightful menfolk.

For all of you ladies out there deciding upon which man to snug in with this winter, which man you will share romantic cocktail hours with fireside, which man next to whom you will wake up, snuggle closer too, and smile because you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, I have prepared a list of qualities you should value more highly than looks or a charming smile.

1) You know he’s crazy about you. That means that he KNOWS how to make you feel comfortable and confident. There is no flibberty-jibber stuttering about how inept he is at communicating. Bad communicators are simply; A waste. Of. Time. Move along.

2) He is thoughtful and considerate of your time. In other words, he’s not chronically late. Furthermore, he is a decisive ‘date maker’ without you having to do all of the work.

3) If he has ever had an obligatory occasion to give a wonderful gal like you a gift, it was a thoughtful gift. In other words, it’s not something he knows you don’t prefer, and just bought it because it was an on-line sale and easier than going out to do the work of thoughtful gifting.

4) His  physical amorous efforts  make your nether regions become an edge-of-your-seat-fully-entertained-standing-ovation audience which is left both exhausted and eager for more. Now, keep in mind, the other nine tips listed here must also be applicable as well, because let’s face it ladies, we all like to entertain men who momentarily make us strap on our bed-spurs and shout, “Giddy-Up!”, but they’re not the kind we need to keep for very long.

5) He takes care of you.  Gives you his jacket. Brings breakfast in bed. Pours your cocktail for happy hour when you arrive home from work. Does the driving.  Covers you up when you fall asleep reading…..you get the picture.

6) He makes you laugh. Belly laugh. Until you snort and pee your pants.

7) He is baggage free. No partial fresh separations, no incomplete divorces. In other words, no whiny immature excuses about his inability to have adult relationships with healthy boundaries. Trust me, B.O.B is better.

8) He thinks your quirks are cute. I once had a beau, a best friend and lover who thought my Irish temper was adorable. God rest his soul my sweet little plums.

9) No matter what, he’s there for you, and no matter what he wants you there for him.

10) Way deep down in your soul, you know, you just know, that if you could be anywhere in the world, it would be wrapped up in his arms.

Wishing you all the best in love and luck as summer wraps up her rodeo and leaves town. Stay fabulous my darlings, and don’t settle for a man who makes you feel anything less.

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Growing Older But Not Up

Bath
Bath (Photo credit: Jagrap)

Ah yes, the famous Jimmy Buffett lyrics, “Growing older but not up….”. Never was a truer lyric written me thinks darlings.

I’m starting to reach the age where I finally understand some of the truisms told to me by those folks who had bravely gone before me, and had indeed grown older but not up. I remember people telling me that despite their age they still felt like the same person on the inside.

I interpret this now to mean they still feel the same emotions, fears, desires, regrets and dreams that youth think are unique to them.  Despite the general stiff upper lip with which we lead our days as productive adults, we all still have the same butterflies in our stomachs about falling in love (again), about new beginnings and relationships.

Somehow, and somewhere, logic over powers emotion. Alas, we are essentially emotional creatures, and we cannot repress our desires forever. We’ve just learned to hide it, push it aside, and carry on as if we’re stoic souls not moved by mere emotion.

But I challenge you my fabulous readers. For every woman who enjoys a long, hot, candlelit bath, there is a woman who still lets her imagination get carried away with romance and love stories.  As the hot water softens her skin, and the razor skims her calves, she remembers the way a lover’s touch felt, or imagines a first kiss.

No matter the storms of marriage, separation, divorce, child-birth, death, or loss we have weathered, there is always a little spark burning inside of us. One that, with just a little encouragement, burns more brightly as we unbind our hearts from fear of losing again.

We all grow older, but you cannot convince me that our gentle hearts ever grow up, or ever should grow up.  If you don’t believe me, draw a hot bath, light some candles, put on some of your favourite slow songs and observe where your mind goes. A glass of bubbly won’t hurt either my sweet darlings. Don’t be afraid of your heart’s desires, rejoice in your vitality.

Someone, somewhere is thinking of you tonight.