Baggage (Black Hat Guy)

I always knew I had baggage. Mine consists of an over active imagination, a strong desire to over analyze, occasionally I can be obsessive/compulsive and perhaps I am a little needy. But I am not high maintenance, or crazy, and I like sex (a lot). So it balances itself out.

I had a great understanding of my own unwanted personal belongings.

I didn't, however, understand other peoples baggage, until I met Black Hat Guy. This man has luggage, trunks full of excess shit in his life. Who knew that I would ever care if the man I was dating was divorced.... until of course Writer Chick brought something to my attention. She tells me after I brief her on the situation "I guess we're getting to the age now where we will have to start dating men who are divorced, but at least he doesn't have kids." Fuck, does he? I didn't know, and it never dawned on me to ask.

And when I did, disaster struck. Not only did he have a workaholic, emotionally whiped personally, he was even a little needy. "Kiss me. Hold me." That sort of emotional neediness. It certainly shows me how much of a turn off that shit it. Perhaps I have learned something from Black Hat Guy.

But the thing that causes me to lose the most sleep is Irish Boy, his five year old kid who lives with mama. That's all of the information that I could muster up the courage to get. That and I don't know enough about children to know what else I should ask. "Does he eat?" "What do you do with a him?" Ugh, these questions only remind me of why I will never be a stay at home house wife.

I don't want to bear your offspring and then chase the little mutants around the house all day for exercise. I definitely prefer pilates. At least it is a controled environment.

Believe me babycakes, if I wanted one, it most certainly wouldn't be someone elses. My participating in peek-a-boo will be a direct result of my own bad decision! Not yours. So I think it's safe to say this one is over. Sadly. I really thought you had great eyes. (And abs).

But the moral of this story is this:

There are all sorts of accessaries in our lives, more than ex-wives, babies, and mental issues, so I know this is the first of many I will encounter... other than of course, my own.