All day long I’ve been walking around the office with this silly, completely shit-eating grin on my face trying my best to stifle the giggles. I’m not still drunk, but I did stay way too long at Pint Nite. It’s just this image in my head from last night. Of his compact body, shaved head self standing in my beautiful Victorian apartment, right there in front of the Christmas tree, stark ass naked except for my grandma’s fur coat. (And, no, I don’t think he was cold as there was No Shrinkage – in fact quite the opposite.)

There I go again with that crooked smile. And he did look so sincerely hopeful I’d keep my word when he said, “you’ll never tell any of my friends about this will you?”

Sure. Not a soul.

And that right there is pretty representative of my life. I have a wonderful new job I’m not talking about for, well, the fear of not having it. Great friends, although we did collectively drop one because, well, she was making all of our lives unpleasant. I do not respond well to a chick outside my bedroom window (at 10 a.m. on a Saturday – when I am Oh So NOT Alone) yelling up to me as to why I’m not at brunch yet. Thankfully the dude was understanding, in fact he’s still kept in rotation albeit totally a second string player.

Somewhere along the way in the last year I’ve firmly found my ground. In many respects it’s this town. It’s Midtown. And while I’d been saying from pretty much month 6 out from the divorce that I was great…I never knew if anyone believed me. If I believed me. But, oh, so Totally Doing Great.

I fell in love. He moved away. He freaked out via phone one night at 2 a.m. because he was convinced I’d picked someone up (I had.) And yet we’ve stayed in touch. And he says he’s coming back and I think I want that to happen.

I’m surrounded by friends who want to find love, we talk about it constantly – meeting boys. Beautiful, smart, successful women who are totally and completely Boy Crazy! And I’m pretty sure we all could have boyfriends if we wanted and none of us can quite pin down why we don’t. Except I think sometimes maybe it’s because we don’t know if we really want them.

I love that for some crazy reason, even if I, ahem, have (according to my parents but all my clothes still totally fit) put on a few in the last few months…somehow last night I kept getting “the look.” From all over the place. Sure, after several beers at $2 pint nite I’d bet several people where getting “the look” but still. Cute boys are all over and it’s kinda hard to imagine not playing with them. But yet I want a boyfriend, right? I mean, I can’t pretend I’m “Samantha” forever.

And so last night. The Nudist. He’s one of my favorite stories. A boy I’d had a thing for waaaaaay back in my first go-round in this town. When I was 20-21. Before I met the ex-husband. And, it’s a personal little success that I’ve come back here, regained all that was lost plus so much I didn’t know I could have, and reconnected with someone from back then. And have *him* like *me*!

Sure. I totally have dry spells. When I can’t get the construction workers to look at me. I had a horrible one last September – yikes. But at present I’m counting my lucky stars for all these boys. The rich older one who takes me to sushi and is great in bed, and also very reliable which appeals to my Virgo nature. The 26-year old truck driver who is completely cute, but sadly….eh, I’m just not interested. The Nudist (of the fur coat fame) with whom nothing has been consummated, just a “thing” since last May – but he kisses very good. The Coach who through a tantrum when I left with the Truck Driver to hit another bar, even after I’d made it clear and then my friend made it clear, that Truck Driver was only a friend…but according to her that tantrum was along the lines of “why do the right girls always go for the wrong guys, she’s way to pretty for him.” Things I certainly like to hear said about me by a very hot Coach.

And so with New Years almost here and plans sorted and made. Oddly for all this Boy Talk it’s just us girls going out to a fancy dinner together. No romantic gestures or midnight kisses…(although the cook is totally hot at WB and I so bet I could work that…)

And this is why I don’t have a boyfriend I guess.