::Let Me Clear My Throat::

: contented sigh : I'm seeing a pattern. Last night was another lovely night with Flaco. We lounged in my bed, all comfy cozy like, watching The Notebook (HIS request~ whaaa?!) and talking about life, love, and parenthood. My yummy smelling rose candle flickered softly on the dresser, and my iPod shuffled thru the most perfect tunes, somehow finding the ones that fit the mood just right. Our conversation flowed seamlessly and naturally, as did his fingers as he absentmindedly stroked my hair. With all this in mind, it sounds very anti climactic to refer to it as "nice", but that's exactly what it was. Nice...easy....peaceful. And I felt more content than I have in a very long time. I'm noticing how comfortable I'm becoming, spending time with Flaco. Being with him doesn't stir up any romance novel-style feelings in me; I don't find myself doodling his name on my folders or picturing some amazing future with him, but I am enjoying our time together...

::sigh::   I'm having another 'I miss The Ex' episode today.   It's not as impossible-feeling as the last one, when it felt like  if I didn't see him I would tear my skin off, but it's making me anxious nonetheless. I've been thinking about him lately, more so than usual.  Sometimes the strangest things become a trigger, and he's taking up every last corner of my mind-it's an odd sensation.  Last night it was a quote from a movie...I was plugging along just fine, not a care in the world, in a happy mood, and BAM!   It was waterworks, like someone reached inside me and opened the tap. It's going on two years now, and just when I think I have it licked, I get blindsided with one more lashing and my progress goes back two steps.  I wonder how long this is supposed to last.   I decided today that I would just drop over at his house and pay him a visit.  I never wanted to do this before and I told him so, but he always stressed how I was...

Flaco: (FLAH-ko) n., adj. Spanish slang for "skinny".  See also: Ms. Jaded's Weakness Ah, Flaco.  Allow me to give you some backstory:   Flaco*, who is a real person and not just a conglomeration of many, nor a figment of my very vivid imagination, is a longtime friend of mine. (tho I suppose it's a loose interpretation of "friend", but I digress)  When I met him through my neighbor back in 2005, I was knocked nearly breathless with his sexy, dimpled grin.  The instant I met him, I sized him up: I saw this very well groomed, charming, charismatic, muscled up, confident guy who was so fine he made me sweat. (He's a carpenter, y'all..mmm)  Immediately I deduced that this guy must have a stable of chicks in the cut, one for every day (and night) of the week.  He had to be a typical playboy, running around busting up hearts left and right, with women just sweating him.  He must have a babymama, and the drama that goes with it. ...

There are only so many times in life that you can cry about being broke before you just get sick to death of the words. I have reached that point. I'm tired of missed opportunities only missed because of my empty pockets. I'm sick of choosing between feeding my self and my kids and putting gas in my car. In a week I manage to go thru a grand, and that's just for bills and car repairs. Then I'm right back to where I started. To day its depressing is a gross understatement. I know with going to school I'm working towards the greater good, but that doesn't make me feel better now, nor does it fatten my pockets at all. After a while, you just want a break from living by the skin of your teeth.