It's Raining Men....Hallelujah!

"Ten men waiting for me at the door?

Send one of them home, I'm tired."

~Mae West~

Boy did I catch some flack for the last posting! Everyone wrote to me wanting to know why I hated men so much or who had hurt me so badly that I would start excreting venomous rantings from my fingertips. (<-----that was good, by the way. My mind is such a terrible thing to waste, don't ya think?) Anyway, I DON'T HATE MEN....I LOVE MEN...just not as much as I used to. Too old, too busy, already have someone other than myself that I have to take care of, yada, yada, yada. I wrote the story in a fit of anger because it seemed like every time I turned around someone was getting busted (in a major way) for cheating. I can't stand cheaters whether they are male or female. Get a divorce, walk away or send a singing telegram. Odds are it will only hurt half as bad and you just "might" get to keep your integrity.

I would have ranted equally as much had there been a "monsoon" of women cheaters, however, you just don't hear about that too often, now do ya? Wonder why that is? I'll tell you! We're lucky if we can muster up enough time to simply fantasize about having an affair. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop," and our hands are almost always filled with something....laundry, pots, pans, cleaning supplies, homework, well, you get the picture. I think Tiger, et al, need a little more than a lawnmower handle in their hands once a week. Hmph!

But rest assured, I still love men, I just find the older I get, the harder time I have putting up with anyone's schitt, let alone someone who expects me to wash there underwear only to take them off at someone else's house. The fact is, that since my divorce (however long ago that was...wtfc?), I've just sorta orbited around the whole partner-ship enterprise (and no, I'm not a "trekky" just in case you were wondering) trying to decide whether or not I want to fly Hans Solo or not. (it appears I'm outta control on the science fiction metaphors, and I don't even like it! Ewww). I'm not EVEN gonna say, "Beam me up, Scotty!" cuz that would just be over the top....even for me. :-P

Okay, so where was I? "Um, Scotty...you can go ahead and let me down now (EVERYONE ELSE DOES!)." Ah yes, men. I can pick the sweetest and juiciest watermelons in the bunch, but have not been so lucky when picking "soul mates." Maybe I oughta start thumping them. Or how about sniffing them. How many unhappy dogs do you see, after all? Or maybe, just maybe, I could leave well enough alone and continue to live in the perils of my mind's dilapidated Camelot....or would that be, CameNOT?

My happily ever after fantasy went down in the Atlantic with John F. Kennedy, Jr's plane. He was trying to reach me, poor baby and definitely poor visibility. After quite a few years of grieving, I met Lance (Armstrong). Of course, he was all tied up with that Sheryl girl at the time, so I gave him his space and let nature take it's course. I knew he would eventually see the light and he did. While making his way to Colorado, he stopped to impregnate some strange woman, but by this time I was done! He was no longer a "competitor" in my Tour de Fantasy (I still wear the yellow bracelet he gave "me," however.)

At least for the time being, I have decided to forget the happily ever after and just toy with the happily ever NOW! After all, it's all I've got time for! May the "force" be with me!

Live long and prosper or nanu nanu, whatever makes your ship shift!!

The Paper Whisperer