A long time ago my friend from church decided to set me up with a friend of hers from college and invited me to a small gathering where we would have the opportunity to meet, but I found myself completely bored with the object of the setup and totally smitten with Dana, our hostess.
For as long as girls have floated on their daddies' shoes, the elusive Happily Ever After has been a perennial must-have. When should, or can, we learn that bliss is only tangentially connected to some swept-off-your-feet love?
A "slut" is what haters call a liberated person, and that's what I am. I'm liberated. And the most liberating truth I've learned in the past few years has been this: You don't need to be in a relationship to live your life romantically.
As you meet your next special someone, have the courage to overlook tiny imperfections. Too many of us overlook wonderful people in hopes that someone better might be right around the corner. Find the courage to be a little less scrutinizing.
In my book, I write about a man who loved my farts. I'm leaving it in because, well, it's about time more women write more honestly about sex, about gratification, about their needs for both receiving and giving, even about farting.