Wing-Woman Needed

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Nostalgia. So many feelings came rushing back to me in the course of an afternoon, I don’t know where to begin. It was an afternoon of observations. Observations of interest, some of my own intellectual notice, and some are just plain silly thoughts.

Spend a moment or two inside my head…

“Saying that men talk about baseball in order to avoid talking about their feelings is the same as saying that women talk about their feelings in order to avoid talking about baseball.”

So here’s the deal then, Deborah Tannen, one who has taken to demystifying the mother tongue. I need someone to talk to about my feelings.

Quite an intelligent woman

Prepare yourself: My mind is about to be unleashed…

Here the thought bubbles come…

Back in high school. Remember freaking high school? I was named Most Spirited during my senior year. Decked out in red, white and blue, and now I’m decking out in maroon and gold. But what do I miss most about heading to the football games? A football cheering buddy. Someone who high-fivedme, yelled at me when I was cheering too close to their ear, and someone who poked me in the shoulder whenever they caught sight of a nice pair of buns in tight football pants.

The more outrageous the outfit, the better the spirit!

No way in hell would I go back to high school. Too many raging hormones in myself and in every one else. Literally. High schoolers, especially high school girls, are bat shit crazy. I used to be one of those bat shit crazy girls.

Mean Girls. Enough said.

I went all during high school without a boyfriend. Well, that’s not true. Me and the smartest boy in class were a couple for a while there. Then. I headed off to Australia for three weeks over the summer, and I came back and blatantly didn’t know where we stood. Neither did he. So what did we do? We ignored each other. Bam. No boyfriend for me. Did I really care at the time? Hell no! I was a freak of nature who had big dreams of being a Hollywood starlet by 18. I had bigger things to worry about.

I have some reading to do.

My unfulfilled dream? I always wanted to date an athlete. To wear his jersey, to cheer him on during each and every game, maybe share a celebratory kiss after their glorious win. Pointing to the Jumbotron, and screaming, “That’s my boyfriend!” Mostly, I just wanted to wear his jersey during game days. I don’t need to tell you how good I look in a football jersey. Throw in an awesome, messy up-do and I am rocking the athletic look.

He can be an Olympic athlete. That’d be fine by me.

I miss sports. Being a part of a team, and still being my own self. Bringing my own flair and charm to the court, and letting out my rage. Seriously, I miss dominating on the tennis court. The self-hating attitude when I didn’t run fast enough? Not so much. However, I sure had nice, lean legs from all those sprints…

Bring on the timed sprinting drills.

There was a kid practicing parallel parking in the lot next to where my car happened to be. I stood there and recalled my days of practicing the same thing, except with hay bales my dad set up for me in our front yard. The advantages of living on a farm. An overabundance of hay bales.

Literally everywhere you look.

You know what else I miss? Showing cattle at the county fair. Getting up at 4 am to wash my cattle sucked since they only ever had freezing cold water for us to use, but the early morning nap I’d reward myself with after everyone was fed and settling into fresh bedding was worth it.

It’s always 20x warmer sleeping next to your show cow on a chilly evening

I always feel more beautiful whenever I set my feet back on the farm ground. When I feel more beautiful, I feel like I can conquer the world. Thanks to two special bartenders last night (you know who you are, lucky reader.)

Smouldering eyes included.

Wearing power suits, clicking high heels out of the elevator, my own office, and a full lunch hour where I could actually LEAVE to get things done…I love it. I love my new job. Returning to the old stomping grounds was a treat, although I had to remind myself not to go behind the front desk and get to work.

I get to wear outfits like this to all my meetings!

An even better treat? Seeing everyone I used to work with. Oh yes, this included my two favorite bartenders. A Cosmo on the house, and throw in a glass of Riesling? I’m down even more so. Getting walked to my car reminded me of a few things. How much I miss having friends of the male sex, how to be treated like a lady, and the spark of intrigue that lights my gut when certain glances are thrown my way.

Oh yea, the zinging sensations are still very much there.

Oh yes, I’m asking for trouble and the scenarios have been played out in my head. Thank goodness my fingers don’t have minds of their own when my cell phone is around. But wouldn’t it be great if there was a tap on my sliding glass doors, pull back the curtain and there stood Josh Duhamel? He seriously makes me oozy all over with lust. Have you looked into those eyes? Probably not since you’re wrinkling an eyebrow at me wondering what the hell it feels like to be “oozy with lust.”

First my jaw would drop…and then I’d open the door, and not stop touching him.

I don’t like being alone, and waking up from dreams where I’m being showered with love and affection to a world where I am so incredibly alone in the romance department is terrible disheartening. It could be said that I have loved and lost. It’s true. A break-up means losing one you love in a very special way.

It’s over, and it’s literally ripping me a apart right here, right now.

My heart may still be hurting a year later. Ridiculous, yes. It’s been a year. Yet, the world has decided to throw more couples than I can handle in front of my face and it makes me hate myself a little bit more. And the wedding engagements on Facebook. I may delete my account until the new year.

Seriously. Another one?

Stay strong, Jedi. There is someone out there for all of us, The road is simply longer and lonelier for some of us.

God bless the broken road.
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