There Isn't Anything Wrong With Me

Except my taste in guys, obviously. Now let me preface this post by saying...I'm not some lonely chick that sits around waiting for my perfect man to show up. I'm okay with being by myself. Like 99% of the time. And then a night like tonight, when I have too much free time, that shouldn't be free, I find myself thinking way too much. It doesn't help matters much that I'm a self proclaimed music buff. I'm all about some pandora. And these songs, they just... I don't know. I don't like rap. Not enough to create a "Dr. Dre" station on 'dora, anyway. So yea, 10 times out of 10, the songs that play will have some kind of "love" undertone. Wait. Sometimes pandora will slip some shit in on you. Like seriously. I was listening to my "Tamia" station the other day. They played like 2 Tupac songs. Nearly back to back. WTF?

So yea, what I'm saying is, I don't get lonely per se, but every now and again, I reflect on relationships that didn't work out. And I can't help but tell myself, for the upteenth time, I'm awesome. The guy that ends up with me is going to be one lucky fella. I can say this with confidence because, well, shit, because I'm me. I'm cracking myself up. My worst fault is that I'm not a neat freak (read "hoarder in the making"). But hell, I can pay somebody to come clean all this shit up. And actually, one day...as I've been telling myself for the past couple of years, I'm gonna. That is one thing I'll give the ex (husband) credit for. He could clean up some shit. Hell, I know he needs some extra money. I'm thinking about decreasing his debt in exchange for an hour or 2 of his cleaning services....what? Oh. I'm just saying. Shit.

But yea, back to the post. So, you know how you see a beautiful, smart, witty, _____, _______, (insert whatever wonderful qualities in those blanks that you'd like), and she's single. Or she can't seem to keep a man? It's normal ( I guess) for one to ask, "What the hell is wrong with her?" Well, I feel like sooner or later, someone will be asking that about me. And I swear, I've already asked myself that. The answer remains the same. There's not shit wrong with me. It's these blind mofos that don't realize how awesome I am. And I'm not upset, they need to be wherever they are. That doesn't include wasting my time (or theirs). I mean yea, so what, I don't make my bed up every single time I get out of it, but shit. Is that the worst thing I could not do? I could NOT give a damn about the well being of my potential significant other, but that's not how I roll.

Whatever though. I try to take moments like these (single moments) as time for me to regroup and do whatever the hell I feel like doing. Life is good. I can't complain. I've never felt like I needed a hard leg to complete me. I'm fine loving on my child every night. We cuddle too. It's like she can smell me when I get in bed. She just eases her way right over to my neck so I can keep her safe while she sleeps. And has nightmares about things that are less scary to me...yea, me getting her out of my bed and into her own...well, that will be a totally different post in itself. :)