Wrecking Ball

Why is it that everyone has the answers when they aren’t the ones in pain?

There are moments in life where you don’t get a do-over, where the true nature of your character is revealed. You either step up to the plate or lose your chance forever. These moments shape a life. These moments earn you the right to say to yourself ‘at least I got the important stuff right.

I would sneak a peek at while on line at the supermarket. Every time I read something like this, “His masculine beauty took my breath away.” I used to think… A: what kind of a dumbass wrote this dreck. And B: what kind of dumbass reads this drivel. And yet, here I stand, making doe eyes at this man, and what am I thinking? His masculine beauty takes my breath away. That’s right. Who’s the dumbass now?

Amber says every woman should have ‘fuck you’ money.

You don’t like my beard.” “I’m sure the vermin that call it home luv it.

The memory of what I had and what I lost, the knowledge that I may never have it again, hits me like a freight train. That’s the thing with grief. It’s fickle and selfish. It doesn’t follow any rules, and shows up when you least expect it. One limb at a time, I slowly peel myself away, retreat to the bathroom, and shed my tears in private.

I believe the expression is ‘hot as fuck’.” “Why is that a thing? There must be a lot of optimistic virgins out there using this verbiage because at best the odds are fifty/ fifty when in reality it’s closer to seventy/thirty in favor of it not being hot at all––” There’s no stopping her once she’s on a rant. “Where as fudge is almost always hot.

It lulls me into a sense of peace I haven't felt since the time I had my wisdom teeth pulled and had to take Vicodin. Except this is better. He's better that narcotics

You wreck me… every time I look at you.” He searches my face to see the effects of his words. The effect is that I can’t see the beginning or end of my love for him. It’s a constant never-ending thing. How did this happen? How did we get here? Not too long ago we were barely able to tolerate each other. He snuck up on me, this sex on a stick, six foot four, two hundred and thirty pound man, snuck up on me and stole my heart.

Pretty boys have never appealed to me. Ruggedly handsome is my preferred style. I’ve always had a private fetish for the working class hero. For guys who know how to use their hands and come home sweaty and a little bit grimy and say things like, “Let me wash up first.

Why do I give you credit?” He answers my query with a quick nod. “Because I’ve learned the hard way to judge a man’s character by his actions, not his words.

Why history?” I say in a disgusted tone. I’d like to forget my past entirely. “Hmm…because it reminds us how far we’ve come. What we’ve accomplished.

The testosterone spewing off of him kicks me in the babymaker…and I’m suddenly warm all over. I’m pretty certain the man could reverse menopause. Gotta

I’m almost one hundred percent certain he dates women that peel the skin off their grapes and measure their protein intake with a thimble. Needles

Cautionary tale ladies, never marry a man who quotes the movie Wall Street like it’s his Bible. If Gordon Gekko is his idol, it’s time to pack your bags. Trust me, I wish somebody had given me the heads up.

Men are so fucking dumb. No wonder they believe they rule the world.