Which, Goddess, obviously

“I’m going, I’m gone even though I know it’s wrong
He’s a Saturday night and Sunday morning rolled into one
With a dirty smile that could shame the sun.”

— Nina Gordon, “Kiss Me Till It Bleeds”

I have a Post-It Note on my desk right now that says: “Don’t be a Whiny Asshole.”

That’s because I should be in New York right now. Wednesday is the dinner date at Carmine’s that I can’t make it to. Everyone else will be there.

But I will be at another dinner, also fine Italian, so that’s good too.

I had a glimpse of happy today. It was just a glimpse. It was mostly because I was rocking out in the car to songs I didn’t remember loading into my iPhone.

I felt surprised and delighted and looking forward to the next awesome song. And it occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I wasn’t SCARED TO DEATH of what horrors the next moment might possibly bring.

I also heard from two of my boys of yesteryear. Well, five, all told, over the past few days. Which, GODDESS, OBVIOUSLY.

And it hit me like a ton of bricks what my new year’s resolution should be: TO FLIRT MORE.

I have been in such a miserable funk for a while. I stopped flirting. I’ll fuck you or I’ll freeze you out. No middle ground. And I haven’t been in much of a flirty mood lately.

That’s why I was surprised by the two I heard from. One I fucked; one I froze out. So I dared to flirt with one of them. Time to thaw the ground and warm up a long-forgotten skill set.

It wasn’t my finest work and I’m sure it went from aloof to over-the-top in two minutes flat.

But, you know. Practice.

Also, happy to have an achievable and desirable goal.

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