Having been committed to the same guy for the past five years –with the majority of those years being my supposedly wild college days—I missed out on making many stupid mistakes.  As my one huge five-year mistake prevented dozens of small one-night ones, I think it’s time to make up for lost time.  Enter: my whore phase.  

Step One: Rid self of Catholic Guilt.  Note: This could take awhile.  

Step Two:  Compile List of Quotas

  1. Stupid Mistake

  2. Starving Artist  (See: Leonardo Di Caprio in Titanic)

  3. Non-English Speaking.  Also: must not be greasy.

  4. Blue-Collar.  Which seems very judgmental to write.  But as I tend to fall for the skinny, slightly-dorky types, I need someone on my Quota List who has muscles.  Someone who is capable of Vin Disel moves.  Someone with calluses on their hands.    

  5. The One Who Got Away.  Not necessarily The One, just One of the Ones.  Because I love a comeback.

Five should do it for now, but expect additions, as I think I will enjoy using this list as a justification of my behavior.  He was premeditated!  He was on the list!  I need stories to tell my grandchildren.  Scratch that.  I do not need children.  I just need stories; I need life.  My Great Aunt (and, as she used to say, I do mean Great) had no children, but she had stories.  She dated and subsequently slapped one of the Three Stooges because he was getting too “fresh”.  Nat King Cole autographed album covers with endearing descriptions about her eyes.  She conquered Europe; she danced incredibly well.

Even if my whore phase is comprised of making out in cabs or midnight skinny-dipping trysts, I can’t wait for the stories.  (And yes, I realize that last sentence totally gave an insight into my middle-school mentality). 

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