The Proposition

A guy at the bar on Saturday leaned over suggestively and whispered that if I ever wanted to leave my boyfriend, he'd be next in line. I pulled away from him quizzically, wondering if he was serious and took careful inventory of my life.

K drives me crazy sometimes. He really does. Xbox, dirty socks lying all over the house, and saying the word 'retard'... makes me want to chase him down and beat him over the head with a nerf bat.

But when I got home from our girls night yesterday and saw him standing in the driveway, I looked into his eyes and had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to full-on sprint across the driveway, jump into his arms and hug him. It's this feeling I can't describe--like a candle lit from the inside that tips over at the sight of him and warms my entire soul. It makes me glow.

After all of the heartache in my life, I never thought I'd ever feel this way about someone, and it brings tears to my eyes when I realize how incredibly lucky I am. Some days, I want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible and just breathe him in.

This man is my world. We share a home, a life. He made me believe in love again, made me trust again. He gets my jokes, he balances me out. He knows how to calm me down when I'm flipping out. And he dressed up as a giant carebear for me. He's more than my boyfriend, he's my family.

So my answer to the random stranger who propositioned me was a knowing smile and a shake of my head. He just didn't get it. And maybe he never could. There's just no room in my heart for anyone else.

Pirates with penis envy

The ladies' room at any bar is a magical place of kinship, compliments, and catfights. Friendships are forged in the always-hefty line over cute shoes, matching bags, and mutual anger that men never have to stand in line. Sometimes we link up and form an army, comandeering the men's room like pirates with penis envy.

It starts off innocently enough, you pick your bathroom partner and politely join the end of the line (yes, we do always go in groups--would you enter into battle without your fellow soldiers?)

As the night wears on and seals are broken, the bathroom becomes a dangerous place. Women get drunker and sassier, and we have to pee a LOT more often, and more urgently. Irritation replaces politeness, and anger replaces compliments as elbows are dropped in the name of basic human need.

And if you're lucky enough to get the stall that still has toilet paper on the roll and minimal urine on the seat--you better go buy a lottery ticket. Because the ladies room is where the sweet and dainty become savage beasts with no manners.

You'd think that bar owners would take this into consideration, and provide more than two stalls. If they were REALLY smart, they'd also fashion the bathroom door to open outward, so the poor lass unfortunate enough to take on the spot in line behind the door wouldn't get body slammed as she waits patiently to enter the stall. Word to the wise: save the money you spend on bouncers and invest in your restrooms. Lives will be spared, and peace will be restored.