Sasha White

The worst thing about being single isn’t being alone; it’s thinking that you might have found someone and then being disappointed.

I feel that I can speak about this with confidence because I’ve been single my whole life. Well, I’ve had lovers, but not boyfriends. How do I define the two? A lover is someone I occasionally spend time with, usually in the bedroom (or NOT in the bedroom if he’s adventurous ;) ) and a boyfriend is someone that’s a lover, and a friend.

Working nights, in a pub, probably doesn’t help me in my search for that special someone. The men I meet, if they are interested in me, tend to ask me what I’m doing after work instead of “Would you like to go out sometime?”. I don’t get many invitations to dinner or a movie. In the past I’ve fallen for some smooth talkers that have turned out to be attached, or just out for a good time. I like to think I’ve learned my lessons and if that makes me a bit cynical about men, so be it.

But recently it’s been proven to me once again, that I can be suckered by charm.

One night at work, one of the other bartender’s came up to me and told me this guy was asking about me. We traded up and I served him a beer. He was nice looking, my age, (which I admit is unusual, mostly I end up with younger guys). So we chatted and I flirted a bit (I can’t help it! I love to flirt!!). Before he left he asked me out for a drink. He got my phone number, and email (as it’s easier to get a hold of me by email than by phone) and left. I got an email from him the next day, and we traded back and forth for a while. And although I have three full days and nights a week off, we couldn’t seem to set a date. He dropped into the pub and saw me. We talked and he left saying he would see me in two days. The other bartender told me to relax and let myself get excited over him. He wanted a real date, not just a fuck! “Relax and enjoy the giddy feelings,” she told me. Cuz, you all know how you try not to get your hopes up when you meet a nice guy, in case it doesn’t work out. Anyway, she got me all excited about him, telling me not to be so cynical, that he seemed like a cool guy, and he was my age so not such a flake.

Uh huh!

I didn’t see or hear from him for two weeks.

It was actually longer, because I was in Greece when he apparently went back into the pub looking for me. Yet, he never emailed, or called. My friend Anna, when in Greece, made me promise to email him when I got home. To not be so cynical, and to put a bit more effort into getting something going. So I did. He seemed very excited to hear from me and we made another date. He came in to where I work again, just to say hi on Friday night. He ended up staying for a few hours, sitting with some friends of mine. He had a great time, he told me how he wanted to take me for a nice dinner…blah blah blah. We decided he would call me on Monday and we’d go out that day.

I haven’t head from him since.

Now, I must tell you that my biggest pet peeve is when someone says they’re going to do something, and they don’t do it. That goes for anything, not just men and dating. If you say your going to do something, and you can’t make it for whatever reason, then say so. I’m not a total bitch. I do understand that life doesn’t always go as smoothly as we’d like. But to not call, or acknowledge what’s happened, is just rude. And disrespectful too. I don’t think that’s too harsh, do you?

So, I think I’ve permanently given up on romance. On the fairy tale of meeting that special someone. The person that you like, that could be a friend and a lover. I’m going back to acknowledging the fact that some people are just meant to be single. Strangely, I am a bit disappointed, but not too hurt. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past, I may not attract boyfriends very well, but I don’t have a hard time finding a lover.

(And in the back of my mind I am NOT hoping that the man I chose for a lover turns out to grow into a good friend and the love of my life. Nope, I’m NOT doing that!!) :rolleyes:

Well, I didn’t hurt myself on the treadmill yesterday! :)
And I actually had a pretty good day writing.:D
Today I am up early to got the Dr. :angry: And then to take my car into the shop.:doze: and then hopefully I will get some more writing done before I go back to the shop and get my car!:satisfied:

Ugh!:crazy:
Normally, Mondays don’t bother me. Today is even an especially good one as I am devoting it to writing. But I feel very lethargic and listless. Surprisingly, I think it’s because I haven’t been exercising. Remember the sprained ankle? It’s been 5 weeks now and I still feel the stiffness and I still feel very unsteady on it, (visions of falling on my face are a regular thing). But, I have to do something. So I’m off now to wake myself up by getting on that damn treadmill and getting the blood flowing.

Cross your fingers for me that I don’t injure myself please!

Before I left for Greece a lot of my co-works kept asking me if I spoke Greek. My family and friends new better, they knew that not knowing a language wouldn’t keep me from going somewhere. My answer to my co-workers was, “No, but I all I really need to know is this,” I’d toss my hair back flirtatiously and smile pretty, “and this!” I’d present my fist in an abrupt manner, middle finger extended obscenely.

They all laughed and thought I was joking. And I was, to a certain extent. ;)

I am happy to report that never once did I have to extend that middle finger in a rude gesture during my whole two weeks there. I did however, toss my hair and smile a lot! And what did I get for my efforts? Besides a few glasses of Ouzo, and early morning beer (I was on holiday so I chose beer over coffee after an all night ferry ride:D) I received a ride on waiters moped to my ferry. (I had left the cafe and was walking the two miles along the port when I heard a voice call out, and it was him, gesturing to the back seat of his little bike and waving at the docks.) Another moped ride to the Metro station when I got OFF the ferry. (By a ferry worker that tried to explain to me how to get to the Metro, but he obviously understood my English better than I understood his.) On another day I got a lovely coffee, and a handheld escort to another part of the port From the Metro, by another passenger on from the train.

None of these men were, young and gorgeous. I didn’t flirt with them to hook up, and they weren’t hitting on me. They barely spoke any English and everything was communicated through one-word sentences and hand gestures.

I found all the people of Greece, young or old, attractive or not, male or female, extremely charming and happy to help out a tourist. The men weren’t sleazy in their charm, just friendly and appreciative, and the women treated you like a long lost sister.

Have I convinced everybody that Greece should be his or her next vacation spot yet? :hehe:

Athens again.
I hooked up with my German girlfriend Anna as soon as I got to the hostel and we headed out. Our first adventure was at The Acropolis.
With Anna leading the way, map in hand, we found it easily. However, neither of us read Greek (Although, to be honest I don’t recall seeing any signs in English or Greek) so we didn’t know that you weren’t allowed to touch the ancient stones. That is, until some chick with a whistle started blowing it and yelling at us. Then we started up the side of the mountain towards the main ruins and veered off the well-beaten track to check out what looked like a cave. Only to hear that crazy chic with the whistle blowing it at us again!
So we got back onto the path and marched ourselves to the top, where we found a whole crew of men in uniform! :D We weren’t sure what nationality they were, or even if they were navy, or what. (White sailor type uniforms with braids on the shoulders and crisp hats) but we did find out that they didn’t speak English, or German, and that flirting is a language all it’s own!

“The only thing I know is that I don’t know anything.”
Socrates

So true! :P

Doing my best to procrastinate yesterday I picked up Jaid Black’s erotic thriller from Berkley. One Dark Night was fantastic! I could see the hints and the set ups in the story line clearly, yet I wasn’t put off by them. In the end I had two suspects in mind for the serial killer. While the killer was one of my two suspects, and I wasn’t surprised by who it was, the fact that I couldn’t decide between the two until the end was enough to keep me going.

Not to mention that this woman knows how to write damn good erotic scenes that fit into the story, and don’t feel like they there are there just because “sex sells”.

:D I’ve given up on the novella for a while. I’m just not in the mood. :hehe:
However, I am working on editing some of my short stories to submit as a collection ontheir own. I have four stories, all first person, and need suggestions for a title for the Collection. Unfortunatly, their is no underlying theme, other than they’re all EROTIC.

Any suggestions are welcome! :)

A very good friend of mine finally has her website ready for viewers. Celia Stuart writes stories about real people that cross the genre lines from erotic to chic-lit, and touch your heart each time. So check out her website and some of the excerpts she’s put up!

Well, I’m back from Greece and I think I’ve discovered one of the top reasons I love to travel outside North America. It’s the renewed appreciation for beauty.

In North America women are only beautiful when they look like the pictures in magazines. Everyone strives to be young, thin and beautiful.

When I first arrived in Greece and was sitting at one of the many open-air cafes, I watched the people go by in quiet amazement. Women that were well rounded with jelly bellies were strutting around in skintight hip huggers and revealing crop tops. Their soft tummies bare for the world to see.

“How could they go out in public looking like that?” I thought to myself. “Those clothes are way too small for them.”

It hit me when I was lying on the beach, my oil slicked skin soaking up the suns revitalizing rays. I was topless and feeling very beautiful and sexy. There wasn’t anyone else around, just me the sun, the sand, and the water. But I FELT sexy and beautiful.

I wasn’t alone for long though, and when others started crowding the beach I considered putting my top back on. After all, I’m fifty pounds overweight and not exactly the body type men want to see lying around naked. But I liked the way I was feeling and I was reluctant to lose the feeling.

Then slowly I realized that nobody cared. I received a couple of lingering looks from some men, young and old, but that was it. Nobody pointed and laughed, and the young teenage boys didn’t turn into smart-ass punks and jeer at me. Nobody looked and nobody cared that I was heavy and bare and basking in the sun. And the ones that did look, looked on in appreciation.

It hit me that these were people that didn’t take the North American ideal and try to impose it on everyone. It was if they could look at me, and sense that I felt beautiful and sexy, and see me that way.

When I returned to Athens, before flying home, I sat once again at a cafe and watched the people go by. This time instead of feeling embarrassed at the women openly flaunting their less than perfect bodies, I felt pride. And a touch of envy. Because as much as I felt sexy and beautiful while there, I knew that once I was home again it wouldn’t take long for my own mind to once again envision myself as fat and lacking.

When I think back on it, most of my travels have made me feel this way. I go overseas, to cultures that aren’t so wrapped up in filling every minute of every day with as much as possible. To places where people realize what a gift just living, just being, is. And I learn who I really am, and that my body is a gift. It works for me. It gives me pleasure and pain. It lets me know I’m alive, no matter how it looks.

It’s a constant struggle to love myself, and my body, and if I have to go to Greece every year just to make myself feel beautiful…that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. :P