10 Reasons Why I Do Not Have Friends


During two separate conversations with two separate friends, the three of us mentioned the fact that we do not have friends. I mean, we are friends to a certain extent; one of the gals is one of my best friends, and the other gal is a coworker. While I get together with the one gal, the other gal and I don’t mingle outside of work. (Though, I did go with her and her daughter to see the midnight release of the movie Eclipse.)

For several days I pondered about why I do not have friends, and I came up with 10 reasons. Continue reading

I know an old lady who has a life.


If my Dad were still alive, he’d be celebrating his 84th birthday on Sunday. He died nearly 20 years ago.

My Dad was born on May 13th. Sometimes his birthday fell on the dreaded Friday the 13th, and sometimes his birthday fell on Sundays, which were always Mother’s Day.

As my Dad’s birthday approaches, I cannot help but think of my Mom. And this year, as Mother’s Day approaches, I cannot help but think of my Dad.

Thankfully, I can spend Mother’s Day with my Mom, because she is still alive. That is I could spend the day with her but I won’t because – well, I’ll get to that in a minute. Continue reading

My Story :: Epilogue


If you have not read the two prior posts (My Story :: Prologue and My Story :: Two Nights), you should go back and read the previous posts first. This is the epilogue. This is the post where I tell you I am “OK”.

The experiences I had were awful. If I let myself think about the incidents for too long, the tears will return, as will the knot and the sick feeling in my stomach.

The first assault is the one that bothers me the most. In my opinion, his assault was more intrusive and invasive than intercourse. I was pinned down. Once he was on my face, I could not move my head left, right, up, or down. I moved my legs, but my legs did not free me. He forced himself in my mouth, and he remained there until he finished what he started.

He got to me, and he haunts me the most. I had never seen a penis before this guy! What the hell? I hate – hate – how he took away the innocent and trusting person that lived inside of me. I hate – hate – how he changed my view of sex forever.

I did not report either incident, and I regret that fact. I remember the first name of the first guy, but I haven’t a clue the name of the other guy, and these many years later, I would not be able to identify either one in a line-up.

There is not a doubt in my mind that the person I was prior to these incidents is not the person I am today. Still, I have had 20yrs to get to know this person, and she is growing on me. She still laughs hard, she just trusts a little less. She still likes adventure, she just feels more comfortable at home.

I have said, “I wish it never happened,” but now – now that I am married and have two awesome kids, I have stopped saying I wish it never happened. Because, if it didn’t happen, would I have Rob? Would I have Joe and Charlie? How could it be better than Rob, Joe and Charlie?

Seriously, I thank God that I met Rob. He is the perfect match for me when it comes to my quirks, insecurities, and issues that were more than likely caused (or magnified) by the past experiences.

So, although those guys definitely took something from me and left me broken, I got my hands on some duct tape and put myself back together. I have so much more than I did before the crap, and for that – I am thankful. I am OK.


Thank you for reading my words. I appreciate your support. If you can relate to my words, my heart goes out to you. Please know, you survived. You are OK.


Do I know you?


Do I know you? I follow your blog, and I read your thoughts, but does that mean I know you?

Do you know me? I write honestly, and I share too much openly, but do you know me?

I have a handful of friends, provided a handful equals three. More specifically, I have three friends whom I stay in touch with on a regular basis (meaning we make contact more than four times a year) and could easily identify in a line-up (not that any of the three would find themselves in a line-up).

These three friends are my friends within the real world. I see them. I touch them. (Hugs, people. Jeepers.) And, sometimes – when they pass gas, I can smell them. Continue reading