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Wow.

What a week.

Lots of big changes.

I had a guy moving to Charlotte for me…

And now I don’t.

Oh, and even bigger!

I’ve switched to red wine.

The white was giving me awful heartburn.

Anyway. They always say, the best way to get over someone….is to get under someone else. My girlfriend told me that one. And if you knew her, you would die. She is like the straightest, most pristine Jewish girl you have ever met. I love it! She blushes when I talk dirty. Not to her. Please. But about dirty stuff.  She literally looked at me, and under her breath…she said it. With a little tilt of her head, and a twinkle in her eye…she looked around the Caribou Coffee to see if anyone was near by, and she said it…”Ya know, Jen, the best way to get over somebody…is to get UNDER somebody else.” It was like she had sinned. And she was going to be hit by lightning. Love it. And love her. I SO want to use her name, but the mere thought of what would happen to me is frightening. But I am taking her advice. Its time to move it along. Fuck Mr. Big-ish. And fuck being sad. There is no time for crying over a man that doesn’t want the same thing I want.

So, I am going to date.

And I am going to play….

And I am going to be an ANIMAL!

That’s right. I’m a cougar. Hell to the YES. Wait, am I a cougar, or a Puma? If I am 42 that technically makes me a PUMA! Cougars have to be 50. Did I make that up, or is it true? I am a Puma. Shit, whatever. I’m going out with a younger guy. And he is not just younger. He is younger. Like, I have jeans older than him. I think I might have been in Middle School when he was born. OMG. Wait, I need to do the math. I can’t even do the math. I have totally forgotten my math skills because I’m so fucking old. I need readers to find his zipper.

Ok, so he is 34-ish. And I’ve actually known him for a long time. So we just reconnected. It’s so dang cute! Like a little love story. Sigh. No, I didn’t used to babysit for him. No, I didn’t used to be his counselor at Camp Tamakwa. No, no…no. I met him a while back. And he is yummy. And hot. And he looks like Bradley Cooper. And I swear, if I have to cut his food…or chew it up for him, I will. You know all the famous women are doing it. Cougaring it up. Demi Moore. Madonna. Jennifer Lopez. Eva Longoria. Jennifer Weintraub. haha. Do you think he even knows who Demi Moore is? Oy.

Let’s give him a name. Just for shits and giggles. Oh, wait. I forgot to tell you something. I thought maybe I would save it for the next time, but I better just get it all out there now. No holding back, it’s The Truth Hurvitz, after all. Bradley Cooper is also geographically undesirable. Ugh. I know! Stop yelling! Annnnndddd….his location of choice is a State I don’t frequent too often being Jewish, and a Yankee. See, I don’t carry a firearm, and I don’t dip. I am also used to running water, and I like to piss in a toilet that flushes. So, when this flipping hottie called me from Knoxville, Tennessee…I’m sure you all could imagine my surprise! But let me tell y’all a lil sumthin’ sumthin’! This back-woods-country-boy is possibly the dang sweetest thang I have ever come across. (that was my best hick-accent) And when he talks, with that deep southern draaaawwl…

I want to fucking kill myself. ;)

But, it’s so endearing! The more we talk, the better it gets. And the sexier. And really, it’s growing on me. Like fungus. And he makes fun of MY accent. Shit. I’m like, I have an accent? And he’s like, “Giiiirrrrllll, you are in the South, it’s you that sounds fucking funny!” Hmmm. I guess he has a point. And he’s not Jewish. Which is fine with me. We are just having fun. And I need that. I just need to chill out, and breathe and enjoy being with a guy that wants nothing from me…but ME! Who knows, maybe Mr. Tennessee will teach me a little something about life. Or love. Or how to just have a good time. Or, maybe I’ll fall in love again, and get my heart broken into a thousand-bazillion pieces. Great. Or maybe, we will just take one day at a time, and be happy. Happy, happy…happy.

This is going to make for some excellent blogging. Hurvitz the Cougar goes south. It’s Knoxville, or bust baby! ;)

 

xo j