A long time ago, I read an article called "50 things women wished men knew" and shared it with some people, knowing we could do better.
My list has more than 50. Some I've shared before with others, some I really haven't.
It's kind of my letter I probably will never send.



 I like to hear the words “I love you” but only if you really mean it
 Real men can drive stick, wield a hammer and/or do their own taxes.
 Lying breaks my heart
 There are still secrets I've never spoken outloud, mostly because no one has ever asked.
 The feel of your lips just below my ear will make me agree to anything
 Capable men are a turn on.
 I love when you hug me and whisper in my ear
 “Fine” is never an acceptable answer. For anything. From me or you.
 It takes very little to make me genuinely happy.
 Most of the time when I fantasize, it’s about you.
 I sometimes forget you have another life.
 I get turned on simply seeing I have an email from you.
 I expect you to call me or text me or contact me if you’ve said you will.
 I’m more forgiving of you than I should really be a lot of the time.
 Oral sex is kinda like a get out of jail free card.
 If I’m not having sex with you it’s because I either don't feel well or you did something to hurt me.
 Shoes determine fashion – it matters to me what shoes I put on silly as it might seem to you.
 Romancing me always makes me a sure thing
 Kissing me to shut me up is a very good plan
 Kiss me, don't ask, just do it.
 A man should plan fancy-schmancy dinners, dress up dates, weekend getaways sometimes and taking care of hiring the babysitter for a surprise date once in a while.
 Only once in a while. I don't mind doing things for you and I don't need or want that much "fancy"
 I can dissect a simple sentence 98 ways and use each variation as a reason to feel bad about myself. One of the other 2 ways I never thought of is probably the way you actually meant it.
 The best gift I can get is you, your time, yourself.
 My wants, needs and desires change from day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute and sometimes second to second
 It feels like I’ve failed if I can’t turn you on.
 It shows me how mature you are if you ask for directions, assistance call your mom just because.
 I like a man who’s in control
 It may seem sappy but holding my hand makes me melt.
 You’re sexy when you’re fixing things, wearing a white tshirt and jeans, driving, having an intelligent discussion or holding a baby, puppy or kitten.
 I need to hear how you feel about me, tell me often.
 Surprises, not necessarily gifts, equal more sex
 I want to be the best thing that ever happened to you, and I wish for you to recognize that.
 I never feel like enough.
 Even though I can't have more kids, and really wouldn't want them anyway, I still think about what it'd be like to have yours.
 If I’m not feeling loved, I’m more likely to look elsewhere.
 I think you deserve to be appreciated.
 Discussion of how great your ex was should probably be mostly avoided, and always avoided in bed
 I like when you tell me what you’re thinking, even if you don’t know yourself and I don't want to have to ask.
 Celebrating anniversary’s, even weeks, months, earns bonus points.
 I love it when you’re sweaty
 Women don’t like to always have to ask for sex either, and if you say no often enough, we’ll stop asking.
 I like to be greeted with kisses, always.
 I like erotica, even porn. Shh....
 I blush like a 15 year old
 I like my hand on your ass, especially if you’re wearing faded, worn jeans.
 Even nice girls like hushed dirty talk in public.
 It’s cheating as soon as you’re doing something with her you wouldn’t want me to see, hear or read.
 For the record, most of the time I’d rather you left than cheat.
 Cheating … hmmmmm saying anything about that makes me feel like a hypocrite but well...
 I remember everything about our relationship.
 I wish you knew all this without my having to tell you.

The value of being optional...

I sometimes overthink my life. I say sometimes, but really it's quite often. This results in me taking something that I logically know and twisting it through my own warped mind into a new creation that often bears little resemblence to it's true form. This is sometimes the case with a single sentence. I read the inflection wrong and spend the next several hours trying to figure out what it actually means and coming up with the variation that is most detrimental to me.

I thought this little quirk was odd until I discovered that a lot of other people do this as well. Mostly women. I don't know why, but men don't seem to be wired this way as much. Those that love me try and curb this annoying tendency to overthink things because it leaves me confuzzled and bewildered. Squashing this trait rarely works... but every once in a while something someone will say gets through to me and sticks in my head and I actually have a revelation while overthinking something.

I remember crying on a friend's shoulder one night about how I felt optional in my relationship, that he didn't need me, that I was extra and that I didn't know what to do about it. She quietly responded with a simple sentence. "You ARE optional. You just need to decide if you are ok with that."

*blink* Wait, what? That wasn't what I was expecting her to say. I was expecting her to give me platitudes and make me feel better in the moment, but life isn't easy, relationships aren't simple and my guy has a lot going on in his life. She knows this, I've always known this, but I constantly forget. I somehow get lost in that. It was enough to pop me out of my pity party while I pondered and we had some giggles about other things and talked about how Eric from True Blood is probably just waiting for me to call him to ask him to go skydiving or something, you know, important stuff, and I felt better.

A little later that night I began to feel sorry for myself again. THIS is something I really do try to avoid. It's kinda sucky to feel sorry for yourelf and it's really not all that productive. Besides, you never know when to be done. And I was sitting here watching a movie and wishing I was watching it with him, wrapped up in his arms, feeling loved when it hit me.

I AM loved. In fact the very fact that I am optional should highlight that for me.

op·tion·al   /ˈɒpʃənl/ [op-shuh-nl]
–adjective
1. left to one's choice; not required or mandatory
2. leaving something to choice.

He doesn't have to spend time with me, he makes the choice to spend time with me because he loves me. Oh. Wow. He wants to. He does have a LOT going on, and he takes time to be with me more than almost any other couple I know. He spends quality time with me, listening to me, sharing, laughing, talking.

And I think of my earlier words...I am optional.
I am.
So yes, I guess I'm ok with that..There is value in being optional.
I don't think I'd want to be mandatory.

If...

At some point and time someone will ask you, If you had 24 hours left, what would you do with it? How would you chose to spend those last moments, and why?


My answers used to be fun-filled or packed with adventure, I would fly to Paris for breakfast, and I would sky-dive or bungee jump, do things that were exciting and filled every moment I had with daring and adrenaline.

And yet my real answer is nothing like that. When there was a whisper in my ear, letting me know that maybe I wanted to think about such things, my choices were simple.
I ate pancakes for breakfast with a boy with sparkling eyes and dimples, who still calls me Mommy, even though at 10 it's not that cool. I drank orange juice with a beautiful young woman who is wise beyond her years, who's intelligence and humor can't be hidden by the adorable smile and freckles on her nose.
I fought a duel on the Wii, and was victorious against 2 laughing minions who look a little like me, a little like their father and are entirely the greatests works of art I ever created.
I made snow angels and laughed as the flakes caught in my eyelashes and the wind numbed our cheeks.
I ate grilled cheese for lunch at my mom's kitchen table, with my minions, my parents and my siblings, and remembered all the faces of those who had sat there with me throughout the years.
I hugged everyone instead of keeping them at arms length.
I whispered what we knew were goodbyes though we still hoped they weren't.
I painted.
Music filled my evening as I danced in my kitchen.
I took a bubble bath and stayed up too late.
I wrote letters to those I love and set them in a drawer, with the words I hadn't been able to bring myself to say.
I reminded myself that I am not alone, that I am loved.
When I closed my eyes that night, I knew that I'd made good choices in my moments and was at peace with them, but I wasn't done.

The next few weeks were dark and cold and I'm glad I don't remember most of them. Now although I still am missing many, many answers and am not sure what the future holds, or how long I get to hold it, the sun shines again.

Every day I have another 24 hours.
It's never enough.

Anonymous

With all due respect to the tv show Cheers, sometimes you need to go where NOBODY knows your name.
Where you are completely anonymous and can reveal your inner-most, barely dare to say aloud thoughts and feelings. Where you can blurt without fear of repercussions and recriminations or judgement. Someplace where it's ok to say the things that you really shouldn't, or that you don't really mean but feel like you will explode if you don't vocalize them.

It's not easy to find a place like that. I found one once, but I am drawn to people, to communities, and eventually I developed real relationships with people, and they knew who I was, and I knew who they were and we cared about what each other thought and felt and sometimes it was them that I needed to talk about where no one knew and oh yeah... wait. No more anonymous.

So I'm back to whispering out loud to myself in the dark because if I don't say them are they real? It's like if a tree falls in the forest I suppose.

I can't be the only one that feels like this... we're all full of secrets.

Sometimes I have nothing to say...

or everything I say to anyone seems wrong.
I paint when I'm happy... I draw when I need to, when I just can't think or whatever.
It's fall here... the leaves are changing.
Change is good right?

Why do we do this?

So here's the thing, I know a lot of fabulous women. I mean.. REALLY fabulous women. Intelligent, good-looking, fun, bright, energetic, funny as HELL. Yeah, so why do we turn into 15 year old girls with braces and a stutter about guys?
I mean really?
Here's a perfect example... the day is going along just fine and then it happens.

Happy, happy, fine, fine, omg...wait.. he didn't answer my text!
*stops my negotiations on an international arms deal to reflect*
What DID his last text say?
*re-reads text*
Hmmmmmmm. Ok.
*re-reads response*
HHHHHHHmMMMMMMMMMM
Hmmmmm. Wait, maybe that wasn't what he meant?
*looks at the clock*
What did I say?OMG I bet that wasn't what he meant! Why hasn't he answered??!?!
*waits a little longer*
Oh hell,what did I say? Why hasn't he answered?
*calls and rants uncontrollably to friend about this and says*

IT's been TWELVE minutes!!!!

Ding.....

Oh. Wait. It's him. Gotta go.

True story.