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Ouch.

Well, I gotta say, this one stung a bit.

Been quite some time since I’ve actually been “in like”.

Or should I say…”in lust”.

Whatever, this one fucking hurt.

I thought I found him…ya know, Mr. Right!?!

Not Mr. RightNow. Or Mr. RightHanded. Or Mr.RightAtchaBaby. But, Mr.Fucking-Right. I thought I found him, dammit. And he was all that, and a bag of chips. A bag of yummy, delicious… tasty chips. Fuck. And I had him, all to myself. Mr. Right was in my hands, ready to for the taking, and then….CRUNCH! He was gone. And I am crushed. Like a bag of Doritos, under a big, fat-ass on a park bench. Bitch didn’t look before she sat. Gone. Why? Why does this crap always happen to me? I must be cursed. I know, someone has my voodoo doll stabbing it over, and over…and over. Die, Hurvitz, Die. Ugh.

How can Mr. Right turn out to be so wrong?

How does something so perfect… go to shit in such a small amount of time? It must be me. My lack of judgement. I trust too soon? Yes. I trust first, and ask later. Instead of building trust…I let them in too soon. I tell them everything. Every little detail of my torrid past. Every skeleton in my closet. Every notch on my belt. Ok, you catch my drift. I need to stop sharing everything. I do! What’s it their business, anywhoo? Shut up, Mr. Right! Stop asking me all these questions! What are you, some kind of shrink? Jeez. No, I don’t know exactly how many men I’ve slept with..lord. What? I’m sure it’s less than 10. Of course!! As if! Hmmmm. I need to just nod my head and keep my trap shut. And if he asks if I think he’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I need to answer, “Well, I haven’t been with that many guys, but YES!” No good can come from being honest, girls. Remember to round down. Trust me, no guy wants to hear the real number. They want to think you are a virgin. Wear white if you must, and save the leather and lace for after you get the ring. Ha.

So, whatever, Mr. Right may have been a little thrown by my sexual prowess. haha. Omg I just wrote that? I am dying over here. Sexual prowess. That is just another way to say, he thought I was a ho. A gutter slut, over-sexed. A tramp. Fuck him. He loved it. And he wasn’t complaining. We just fit. The sex was great. We were “in lust”, and falling in love. In love. Sigh. Ok, maybe after such a short period of time, “in love” is stupid. Maybe “in like” is better? But we were kinda perfect. He was long distance. “Geographically Undesirable”, but it felt like he was next door. We talked every night, for hours. And texted all day, every day. So dumb. But it was puppy-like. Not to be confused with puppy-love. And I totally dug him. We just “got” each other. And smart. Omg. The smartest guy I ever met. So smart, I felt like a complete and udder moron. Is it udder, or utter? Like the cow…udder? No. not UDDER. Not an udder moron. Really, Jen?  Utter. Utter MORON. Like I said, I felt so dumb around him. And even when I said stupid shit, he found it endearing. I think.

And we laughed. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. And we did fun stuff. And we had a really great time together. I could picture myself with him. Wow. And then, it happened. Mr. Right, went all wrong. He dropped the bomb. The biggest, baddest…never-gonna-happen-bomb. You do know the one I’m speaking of?

THE BOMB?

Mr. Right, dropped the baby bomb. He told me, he wanted to have a baby.  And he wanted me to be his BABY MOMMA…

And my heart sank into my stomach, where my lamb kabob was still hanging out from dinner the night before, this amazing little place he took me. It was so romantic. Oh. Sorry. So my heart was sinking. Ya. And I wanted to puke. And punch his fucking face in. Now, truth be told, Mr. Wrong (name change) did mention when we first started talking that he wanted a kid. But then, he changed his mind. So, now, I’m changing his name. Duh. I just feel when a man decides to just change his mind about something like that, he goes from Mr. Right, to Mr. WRONG. Ok, are you following this bullpucky? Mr. Wrong is gorgeous. And brilliant. And athletic. And with that lineage…of course he should reproduce, who am I to stop him?

But not with this chic. Not in this body. I’ve finally gotten my ass back! And not with these eggs. NO way, Daddy. This kitchen is closed. OMG. I wanted to scream. I told him, I was sorry. I did. I think he must have misunderstood my mouth shaped in the “NO” formation. Or maybe, he didn’t see my eyes bug out of my head when he asked if I ever thought about having more kids? I have kids, did he miss them? I only have about 300,000 pictures posted on FB. Ya know, J&Z?! They are fabulous. They are 10, and 12. They can cut their own food, and wipe their own asses. Oh, and they don’t throw up on me, or suck on my tits. Fuck! Is he bat shit crazy? Who in their right mind would want a kid NOW??? I’m feeling faint. I explained all of this. All weekend. In detail. I even said I’d get a puppy, or a goldfish. And then I told him I’d be his baby! He can feed me, and spank me….and give me kisses all over. And if he wants me to spit, I will. Ok, that was bad.

Boo. But no such luck. Mr. Wrong wants his own brat. I mean, baby. And really, how can I blame him? I know what it’s like to have children. Your very own kiddos.  I can’t even imagine my life without my boys. And truth be told, he would resent me forever if I made him choose. So, I let Mr. Wrong go. I told him to search and find a Ms. Wrong, to have his baby. And although she wouldn’t be me, she would give him a beautiful, healthy child….which I could never do. Not at my age, or where I am in my life. And if I gave into him, and decided to have his munchie….I would probably end up resenting him, and that’s not good either. For anyone.

So, listen…everything happens for a reason. My Mr. Right, is going to be a daddy one day. And I know, he is going to be the best one ever. I also told him, if he changes his mind and wants a goldfish, I’m totally his girl. Although, I don’t have a lot of luck parenting reptiles, or things that live in water. Once, I ran over Jonah’s pet gecko with my Yukon. I mean, what was it doing out of it’s cage for the love of Goddess?! Jesus, I can barely handle a dog. Maybe I’d be better off with a bird. Whatever, just give me my kids…and a glass of wine. Shit, if I get drunk enough, maybe I’ll change my mind. Could you even imagine, me with a baby? hahaha. I just threw up in my mouth. But hey, crazier things have happened! If you asked me 5 years ago, if I thought I’d be divorced and living in Charlotte…I would’ve said you were nuts.

So, for now, I must continue my search for the next Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right Now. Or Mr. RightOn. Or Mr. RightTherePleaseOmgYes.

Goodbye, Mr. RightAtTheWrongTime, it was so fun….while we lasted. ;)

xo j