The story...

And so it begins.

I've had a pretty amazing life thus far.  Like many of you, I  met a boy in my 20's, had a baby, got married, then found myself divorced in my early 30's.  I was horrified to find myself thrust back into single land - and have the stories to prove it.  At the time, I lived in a pretty small town, so the "many fish in the sea" rule didn't really apply.  In fact, it wasn't even much of a pond or even a toilet bowl, but was more along the lines of a 6-day old dried up puddle.  My choices of men were a few meth addicts, some guys who lived in their cars, guys who drove pick-ups with gun racks named Vern, or the random new-age tantric master who at any given moment would have probably tried to make me drink some kool-aid and force me to make a suicide pact to meet our alien makers at the vortex.

So what did I do then?  Well I chose the seemingly "together" business owner, had another baby, found out he was really not who I thought he was, then ended up single again shortly thereafter.  The funniest thing he ever said was one day when we were meeting with a counselor to work on our communication issues so that we could effectively co-parent after our break-up.  (My idea - I admit.)  She had asked what led to the demise of our relationship.  After I had given her a very detailed account of what my issues were with him (which included the usual culprits - basically good ol' lying, cheating & drinking,) she said "What issues did you have with S in your relationship?"  Know what he said?  "S has a messy desk."  I of course burst out laughing and pointed out that my desk was messy when he started fucking me.  I'll choose my messy desk.  Thanks for asking!

It really doesn’t matter what I look like, or what I do for a living, or where I live – though it will probably come up.  What matters is that I, like the rest of us, have just been looking for a good “partner in crime.”  Someone who will cheer me on and call me on my shit, yet be able to pick me up and kiss me if I “fall and skin my knee” as my best friend AJ says.  Should that really be so difficult?  Well you tell me…

In a nutshell I am a late-30’s single mom with my own business and my own quirks.  I still get carded for lottery tickets and have been known to pick my nose when I drive.  Shhhh…

What I've found out on this journey, is that it's not as easy being single in this technologically advanced age as I thought it would be.  Online dating sites are the norm, texting has replaced talking, and men lie.  They lie a lot.

Fortunately for them, (but most importantly for me,) I have a very good sense of humor - because let me tell ya, this shit is so funny I couldn't have made it up! 

As I've been working on a book about this weird trek on and off, I've found there are so many funny side stories and smart-ass things I've wanted to say, it just made sense to start laying it all out.  Therefore, chapters of my book will be interspersed with other things I find silly enough to share.  When I think about this "tale," Sedaris injected with estrogen and carrying around a pissed off badger comes to mind. At least that's what I think.

So please indulge yourself.  Let my life be your form of birth control.  Enjoy the stories, rants, online dating hell sagas, stupid emails from even stupider men and funny and empowering strong chick stuff.  Please feel free to share your own stories, share this blog with others who would enjoy it, and laugh with me as I laugh at myself.


A New Study My Mama Thought I'd Find Interesting

A study worth sharing with friends both male and female:

A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.  For example: if she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is  menstruating or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear lodged in his chest while he is on fire.

No further studies are expected on this subject.


An Online Dating Message From Michael - And My Response

Hello, I'm new to I must say, you're a beautiful woman. I truly enjoyed reading your profile. You seem like a great person. Are you doing anything interesting or fun this week?


My Response:

Hello Michael.

I AM doing some interesting and fun things this week, such as:

* Shaving a llama
* Rollerskating in a buffalo herd
* Collecting dingleberries
* Studying shmegma
* Riding a corkscrew rollercoaster
* Being anally probed by alien beings while receiving a labotomy

Obviously you were so busy looking at the pictures that you actually may have missed my written profile part Michael and I must say, I don't appreciate your vanilla spam-o-gram.

Good luck with your mass message approach - ugh.

-Missss Jive

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Chapter Two - *Ben

“Ben” was the second guy to “chat me up.”  My guard was a little up after the “Mr. Trailer” incident, so I decided I needed to stay on my toes, and keep my toes a little further from home too.  He seemed nice.  He had recently relocated from the Midwest, owned his own business, and had a dog.  During the course of our conversations we realized we had people and places in common too.  Plus, he played hockey which instantly reminded me of all the nice boys I grew up with.  (This is stated slightly tongue in cheek, but it really does evoke some kind of wholesome feeling for me.  I’m from the Midwest – what can I say?)  He seemed safe.  Like he would be a decent guy to try to eventually kiss after only kissing my ex-husband for the past 7 years.

We decided to meet at a coffee shop.

The first things I noticed were his kinda nice smile, and his somewhat abnormally large head.  “I can live with the big head for the moment” I thought to myself.  I needed practice runs to get back into the swing of things after being off the “market” for so long, and Ben seemed like a good candidate.  We began “pseudo-dating.”  By this term, what I mean is that I would make it very clear to any man I was seeing that I was in no way looking for any kind of serious relationship.  I am blunt by nature and have grown extremely comfortable in my skin through the years, which I think may be a bit unsettling for many men.

“I don’t want a boyfriend Ben” I would say after he had come over unannounced for the second time that day.  “You’re just scared” he would say.  “No.  I just really don’t want you to be my boyfriend Ben.  You need to leave now.” 

The day I decided I needed to make out with him so I could practice kissing other people (which sounds kind of horrible saying now, but whatever,)  I told my best pal AJ that my plan was to drink some wine and see what happened.  I may have even told her: “I think I’m going to make out with big head tonight!”

So the evening came, we went out to dinner, I drank wine, we came back to my house, I drank more wine.  I remembered that there was half of a joint I’d stuck in my dresser drawer that a friend had left at my house, snuck into my bathroom and smoked it.  Not being much of a drinker these days or a stoner for that matter, to say I was “buzzed” is probably a bit of an understatement.  We started play wrestling around a little bit then I straddled him, facing him, on the couch.  We were kissing and I started running my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair.

Okay, I need to stop here and point out some things about my personality that will help you understand what was about to happen.  I tend to be a somewhat flamboyant person.  My eyes get huge when I talk, I throw my arms around and exude life with my entire being.  I’m a bit dramatic...  If I’m happy, mad, sad, excited or bored; everyone within a one mile radius will know about it.  So keep reading now with that understanding...

Like I was saying; we were kissing as I ran my hands through his hair, when suddenly; I hit a ridge on his head with both of my hands simultaneously.

I sprang backwards like a cat while pulling my hands off his head like they’d been scalded.  “What the fuck IS that Ben??!!” I screeched my eyes as big as the moon. 

“What does it feel like S?” Ben asked.  “I don’t know!  You had a fucking lobotomy?  You were scalped by natives?  What the fuck is it Ben???”   

Please keep in mind dear readers that I was not only drunk, but stoned for the first time in ages too, and all I could think of was that old Wayans Brother’s movie with the chick that keeps pulling fake body parts off when he wants to sleep with her.

“It’s not mine S.” 

Screeeeeeeech.  Hold the phone.  Did he REALLY just say that to me?  This Midwestern man on my couch who just an hour earlier had taken part in a conversation with moi about the shallowness of unnecessary plastic surgery, etc.?  Seriously?  Is this my life???

“What the fuck are you talking about?  It’s not real?  Oh my God Ben!  Let’s just go shave that shit off right now!” 

I was trying really hard at that point to keep my composure.   

“I really wouldn’t look good bald.  I have kind of a big head.”   

Well how the hell could I argue with that?  His head wasn’t big – it was ginormous!  We called him Big Head Ben behind his back for cripes sake.  I could hardly contain myself waiting for him to leave so I could call AJ and tell her all about it, which he finally did.

Every toupee question I’d ever wondered was spinning through my head...  How was it attached?  Did he wear it in the shower?  What was it made from?  Did it cause head cheese?  Did he go to a special toupee store to have it fitted?  Had it ever been pulled or blown off?  Was it glued down?  Did he have longer models for winter?  Was his barber who cut the bottom ring of real hair in on it?  So many questions...

I kept seeing Ben for just a little while.  Mostly because I was then in the position where I didn’t want to look like a shallow dick for dumping someone with a toupee whom I’d most likely scarred for life with my cat leap freak out session. 

I was sitting on my steps one day talking to AJ on the phone when he pulled up at my house.  He got out and I winced.  He had on shorts, socks and Tevas.  He had the skinniest white ankles I think I’ve ever seen on a man.  And yes – I said socks AND sandals.  On top of the skinny ankled body, perched the enormous, toupee covered head.

“I’m working Ben.  You can’t come over without calling.”  I told him.  He left.  I got back on the phone with AJ.  “Dude.  What the fuck?  Where am I?  How did THIS become my life?  I used to date rock stars and models and I’m dating a rug wearing, big headed man who wears socks with sandals!  What’s next – fucking sock garters??!!”  AJ laughed.  We laughed a lot back then.  There were some doozies...

Breaking it with Ben was harder than I thought it would be.  He was convinced that I was “just scared,” and stuck to me like his well worn hair piece.  In the end though I finally got him to leave me the hell alone.

A few years later, I ran into him at the post office.  Z was with me and when we got into the car he said “Ben’s hair looks a lot longer.”  I peed my pants and snorted at the same time.  “What’s so funny about that mom?”  He asked.  “Someday I’ll tell you love.  Hey look!  A squirrel!”  And just like that, it was done.

Adios big head!
* Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and/or guilty.


Online Dating Email Correspondence Between Me & "Spiky Hair"

Spiky Hair: maybe more people would write if every pic you had except one did not have your face covered up, looks like you are in hiding.

Me: Hey thanks for trying to "help" or be "deep" or do whatever it is you meant to do, but honestly, I get about 15 emails a day - mostly lame - and I'm sure that if I were to throw my serious sassy glam shots up, it would be over the top ridiculous.

Things are much different when one has a vagina, spiky hair. Now you know.

Happy New Year.

Spiky Hair: ya women think that because they have a vagina they are special, but they feel to realize that every girl has one, just some are more abused than others.

Me: I think you meant "fail" to realize... Hopefully your dick is as big as your mouth.

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Pussy Power

Pussy Power is giving birth without any drugs – even though you finally asked for some, but by that time it was too late.

Pussy Power is knowing how to make yourself cum.

Pussy Power is being able to smile your way out of a speeding ticket without feeling guilty about it.

Pussy Power is having the nerve to say no when you need to, and not worrying about whether or not people think you’re a bitch.

Pussy Power is being proud that you have a pussy – and not a dick.

Pussy Power is understanding that you can accomplish all of the same things as someone with a dick – and possibly even do them better!

Pussy Power is taking responsibility for your actions – good or bad.

Pussy Power is being part of a sisterhood that stretches across generations, ethnicities, and cultures.

Pussy Power is owning your femininity and not feeling ashamed about having a pussy – they’re pretty.

Pussy Power is loving your body with all of its flaws. 

Pussy Power is being soft when it’s time to be soft and tough when it’s time to be tough.

Pussy Power is about trusting your gut instincts.

Pussy Power is following your soul’s dreams even when people think you’re crazy.

And finally – Pussy Power is owning the power of pussy that is our beautiful power to own!

I have a pussy. It’s mine I say! They’re known by so many names. It could be cunt, or twat or taco pie. But I like pussy and here is why… Pussies purr when they are happy. They hiss when they are pissed. Pussies go just where they want, and they always like a lick!

*Note - I wrote this piece not long after my divorce.  I would read it at open mic night and had a group of girls that called me the "Pussy Power lady."  I was at a business lunch once and they walked by me and said "Hey!  It's the pussy power lady!  We love you pussy power lady!"  I of course acted like I had no fucking idea what they were talking about and made the excuse that they must have had me confused with some other random brunette!

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Why I'm Probably Still Single

Okay, just a little background info to understand the correspondence... 2 weeks ago I had a yard sale at my house. A neighbor who I'd never met showed up with his daughter. He's close to my age and divorced. We chatted. He invited the kids & I over for dinner that week. We went to dinner. I wasn't very physically attracted to him but we had a pretty good conversation. We hung out a bit the following weekend - nothing romantic, though I did let him rub my shoulders (which should never be construed as "I want to fuck you" when we're talking about a 39 year old single mom, who indeed really just wants a shoulder rub sometimes...).

Then, without warning, he started to smother me. Hardcore. 2 days of just coming over without calling, constant texting, etc. So this whole past week I blew him off, trying to be nice about it, hoping he would get the drift that I'm not interested. Plus he's a neighbor for crying out loud. So after a week of being ignored, not having calls & texts returned, being told I'm busy, etc., did he get the message? Well obviously not.

This morning he texted bright & early asking if he could come by and get the yard sale sign stencils I'd borrowed from him. We all know it was probably very URGENT that he have these back NOW, so I did what every woman in my position would do.

I went and grabbed the stencils then shouted "Z! Hurry up and take these down the street before X comes over! Hurry! Just go barefoot! Just wear what you have on! Hurry!"

Then I sent him a text saying Z was bringing them down.

Shortly thereafter, I received the following email, which made me throw up in my mouth a little...

Hey S,

I am a little confused. I have sensed a real cool-ness from you. I  just wanted to let you know that I think you are a remarkable woman and was really looking forward to getting to know you. I am not sure what if anything I did wrong or if I offended you in some way. If there is something I need to ask for amends for, please let me know. I wish we could be friends and at least be able to call on each other as neighbor and friend. If I am off base with this, please forgive me, I am only human and a dumb man doing the best I can to make a go at this dating world. 
I wish you well.


So, again, not wanting to be mean, I responded to his email with the following, which I thought would be the end of it. Keeping in mind that I've only known this man for 2 weeks and one of those weeks has been spent running away and hiding from him.

Hey X,

I think you're a cool guy too. I'm totally fine with us being friends, but was feeling like you wanted an insta-girlfriend - which I'm in no space to be at the moment - especially with someone who's my neighbor. I really need to focus on my business at the moment, and am somewhat of a private person, so just felt like I needed some space.

I'm sure we'll see you around and I hope there are no hard feelings.


But WAS that the end of it dear reader??? The answer is an emphatic NO! When I read his response to my email, I first had my skin crawl, then laughed, then went through intermittent feelings of being repulsed and amused. Seriously. I want to know what the hell this man is thinking???!!! You be the judge.


That’s great to hear. I do not necessarily want an insta-girlfriend either. I am more interested in having a lover. I too, am very busy right now with my own business and really should be focusing as much as possible on it. I think we made a quick start at forming some nice bonds and can appreciate your cold feet. It all seemed so nice and fuzzy as we talked about future possibilities. I talked with my sister and she thought it was too fast for us to have the kids together. I told her I was not sure if I wanted to see you romantically when I initially invited you all over. To be honest after our first date I was a little un-comfortable being around the children.(btw, I love your children, they are wonderful) and I am not sure that it is very helpful for them to have rotating parent figures in their lives. That being said, if you would be interested in having an occasional affair, midnight rendezvous glass of wine sans kids. I would love to be your go-to man. I definitely want to give and receive more back-rubs and other... The need for physical warmth with someone I can trust is all I think I can handle right now. I have enough personal issues that I am working on and through to keep me from seriously pursuing a girlfriend. Please know that I will respect your decision either way, and will not act weird around you in the future. I hope and trust you will do the same.

...You are amazingly sexy and would love to see you romantically.
Please don't feel the need to respond quickly, take your time and think about it. Your feelings may change. I don’t know about you but for me the hardest time is the evenings when I am alone. I am very attracted to smart women and I get the feeling your fucking brilliant.


Oh dear God! All of the words flooded through my brain! I wanted to point out that I'm attractive and have a vagina. I wanted to say young, pretty boys serve in booty-call role - not 40ish divorcee's with facial hair. I wanted to remind him that he had only known me for 1 week really. I wanted to tell him that his stalkerish ways made me want to move away from the neighborhood in the dark of the night. I wanted to tell him how inappropriate it is to call a woman "babe" after only knowing her for a yard sale moment and how even more inappropriate it was to smack her ass in passing in front of her 11 year old son which was the clincher on the necessary blow off to begin with. I wanted to say "in your dreams asshole" and I wanted to tell him he'd have better luck perusing Craigslist than pursuing me.

In the end, because I really AM getting better at this, and by THIS I mean conserving my energy for ME and not unworthy men; I settled for the following:


I'm not interested. See you around.


Short and sweet. Makes for a much funnier story at the end of the day, and makes me wonder what's in the fricken water around here.

Very happily single,
Msss. Jive

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Old Eggs - New Tricks

So as much as I hate to admit it - my body is changing. As are my hormones. I am regular like clockwork baby, so when I started to feel like a boa constrictor was attacking my waist today and feeling kinda shitty all around, I knew that dreaded time of the month was upon me.


I looked at the calendar, counted out 2 weeks from the 1st day of my last period and yep, jackpot - 48 hour hell had arrived.

Since having youngest Z my ovulation has gotten fairly horrific for me. I'm not sure if it has to do with the fact that I'm *gasp* pushing 40 soon, my eggs are now pissed off and brandishing butterfly knives and nunchucks, or my body just wants to make me as uncomfortable as possible so I don't have any crazy ideas to make any more love babies...

This wretched time has a real medical term, and that term my friends is:


Of course it's fucking German (go figure), and basically translates to "middle pain" which in all actuality feels more like a German torture device that is attached from just below my rib cage to about the middle of my ass for roughly 2 days. It does nothing pleasant for my mood either, but that's another story...

There is no "cure" for MITTELSCHMERZ and Midol and a heating pad only go so far. Having a vagina comes with a stiff price and unpleasant penalties at times such as this and makes me ponder the thought of if given the choice, would I trade in multiple orgasms for a penis. I have to honestly say it would probably depend on how nice the penis was and what it was attached to, but I digress...

So oldest Z happened to wander in while I was entrenched in MITTELSCHMERZ research and asked me what i was doing. When I told him "researching MITTELSCHMERZ" he of course laughed out loud - because hey, what 10 year old boy wouldn't?! Then he asked what OVULATION was, which thanks to Google, was easy enough to rattle off in a serious, medical terminology sorta way while pointing at a diagram of the female reproductive system with my pen.

"Whoa mom. You have eggs??!!" he asked. "Girls are kinda like weird alien birds huh?!" That's one way to think of us I thought. He asked a couple of more questions, made a couple more witty remarks, then wandered away to play Legos and torment his little sister.

All of these interactions I realize are training him to one day be a very sensitive and informed man. Come to think of it, he's probably already more sensitive and informed than half of the grown men I know! How can he not be though, growing up with a single mom and 2 sisters. This amazing boy of mine doesn't even bat an eye anymore when I screech across the house to "grab me a tampon"!!

So back to the present.

Are the Midols working? No. I also realize that I do in fact feel like a large alien chicken who could squat and "give birth" to a giant mutant egg at any moment. This egg would no doubt "hatch" on the next full moon and out of it would drive a clown car full of cigar smoking gremlins.

It is my left ovary this month - I can feel it.

Sometimes I wish I weren't so "close" to my body if you know what i mean.


© Copyright 2004-2010 - It Started With A Wink...- Bonaca Jive


5 Clues That You May Be Dating a Narcissist and/or Sex Addict

1. He is left-handed. I haven’t delved into the research on this, but there’s something to it I’m sure. Maybe childhood trauma due to teasing from writing differently was the catalyst, I don’t know... It’s also mildly annoying to sit next to a left-handed person while you’re trying to eat because you keep banging elbows with them. All I know, is that none of my future ex-lovers are going to be left-handed, and I’m just fine trusting my gut on this point until I find the scientific data to back up my theory.

2. They are below-average height. Napoleon Complex, Short Man Syndrome, call it what you will – but short men are typically notorious pricks. They may be overly charming, call you endearing pet names such as “mi amore” after only knowing you for 5 minutes, and even have a very nice and above average penis – but, inside that little man is an asshole button that once pushed, can’t easily be turned off (think smoke detector here,) and the pet names can quickly spin from “buttercup” to “man-hating closet lesbian” in the blink of an eye. If you can look him in the eye in your Converse, you feel like a 6’ tall super model with him while you’re wearing a 2 inch pump, and he shares the other qualities within this list – run for your life. His only goal is to make you feel smaller than him.

3. He doesn’t remember anything you tell him. Anything. Though he appears to be an engaged listener; there couldn’t be anything further from the truth. He makes up nicknames for your kids because he doesn’t know their names, if someone asks him what you do for a living he can’t answer because he really doesn’t know, he thinks you’re from “back east somewhere” when you’re really from Minnesota – you name it – he doesn’t know it. Also, because he never really truly listens to anything YOU say, he often assumes you’re not listening to him either, regularly underestimating your intelligence and memory skills, which is a perfect segway into #4...

4. He is a compulsive liar. We’re not talking about innocent little white lies here either girls – I’m talking DOOZIES. Examples include:
“I don’t have a girlfriend/wife/harem.”
“Those condoms are from before.” (Even though you’re 6 months pregnant and they sure as HELL weren’t there last week!)
“I got this gift especially for you!” (Insert shout-out to my amazing soul sista’ Hope, who unbeknownst to both of us at the time, was my gift partner when we received numerous identical gifts from the same troll over a period of time we shall refer to as “Year of the Cake Pig” from this point forward. Ultra cheesy, no?!)
“I’m not seeing her anymore, but she’s having a really difficult time dealing with it so we still talk 17 times a day.”
And my most recent favorite: “I need to break it off with her so I can be with YOU.” (Even though “breaking it off” meant she would be staying with him at his house when she came to town and I’m sure he most certainly wouldn’t fuck her first before having the little break up convo right??!!) Egads already!

5. He wants to basically just be a big giant CAKE PIG. He really expects you to not have had any more lovers than you have babies – and even that number is too high. He will ask you how many lovers you’ve had, to which you should always smile sweetly when you respond by saying “Today? Just you.” He will subtly try to see where you stand on threesomes and foursomes, then when you crinkle up your nose and make a disgusted face, he will feign innocence while adding he’s never had one, even though he often smells of various scents of women’s perfume, body spray, deodorant and coconut massage oil on any given day, and you know full well that he’s been with hookers and visited happy ending massage parlors on a somewhat regular basis for most of his adult life.

So don’t say no one ever warned you...

*Disclaimer – Everything I say (write) should be taken with a grain of salt. I am a story teller after all, and though much of what I write about is indeed true, I find it all incredibly funny. If you really know me, you’ll get this, but if you don’t, well...

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A Lady went into a bar in Waco... (a joke my mama sent me)

A Lady went into a bar in Waco and saw a cowboy with his feet propped up on a table. He had the biggest boots she'd ever seen.

The woman asked the cowboy if it's true what they say about men with big feet are well endowed.

The cowboy grinned and said, 'Shore is, little lady. Why don't you come on out to the bunkhouse and let me prove it to you?'

The woman wanted to find out for herself, so she spent the night with him. The next morning she handed him a $100 bill.

Blushing, he said, 'Well, thankee, ma'am. Ah'm real flattered. Ain't nobody ever paid me fer mah services before.'

'Don't be flattered... take the money and buy yourself some boots that fit.'
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