Relief

My son texted me from Arizona, midway on his trip to Missouri.

He looked ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE and as a mother, I wanted to get on a plane and make it all better for him.

Of course, there was nothing I could do.

Then, a few text messages.

One thing was clear, he was NOT HAPPY.

He was EXHAUSTED and BORED, waiting in the airport for his connecting flight to Missouri.

I began to worry about how he would handle boot camp, something clearly challenging for even the most mature of candidates.

Would he get enough sleep?

Food?

Camaraderie?

Would he physically excel or would it prove to be too challenging?

These are the thoughts that raced through my mind.

And not being able to hear from him?

Well, that made it all WORSE and I’m not going to lie.

I had trouble sleeping.

Then yesterday, a phone call from him.

And one that didn’t start with him saying to me, “GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

So I’ve relaxed, a little.

It’s not exactly what this momma bear needs to be happy again, but it provided a little needed relief.

Heaven help military families.

I’m just realizing now how hard it can be.

Belly dancing – 1, Michelle – 0

red bellyI took a belly dancing lesson from a Stanford Medical student.

I’m not kidding…. Alma is a phenomenal professional belly dancer AND a medical student at Stanford AT THE SAME TIME.

I know. It blows the mind.

In any case, she warmed us up by having us roll all over the wall, arms moving up and down, caressing the wall.

Then we got down to business.

Apparently, belly dancing is accomplished through amazing glute work.

We sat on the floor and practiced isolating and clenching our glute muscles – first the left, then the right, then both together.

I confess, even though I have an ample size derriere, I had a difficult time isolating my two glute muscles.

They both wanted to clench at the same time.

I became frustrated. I thought this was about shaking my hips. I can do that. What’s the big deal with all these butt muscles?

In the end, I felt like I needed A LOT more practice and just in general a lot more dancing experience.

I want to be graceful and poetic, not jerky and disjointed.

As it stands, you are unlikely to see me in a belly dancing outfit, dancing my ass off for anyone other than a significant other. I’m just not skilled enough at this time.

So the score was Belly dancing – 1, Michelle – 0.

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Bad Boys

I love bad boys, just ask my ex Steve.

A wicked smart, leather wearing , motorcycle riding, cocky criminal defense attorney from Modesto, he embodied to me everything that I found exciting:

  • Confidence
  • Adventurous
  • Challenging
  • Mysterious

He made me feel like a powerful woman and he knew how to talk to me.

Plus he was a rock star in the bedroom and looked great in a kilt.

Why is it that the best chemistry seems to exist between myself and a “bad boy”?

Bad boys are challenging. They’re forbidden. We know it’s not going to end well, but we want that ride. The thrill of it all is worth the price we’ll pay.

And perhaps we think we’re woman enough to change him just a little bit. Tame him.

It’s a delusion, of course.

Because what makes a bad boy a bad boy is that they’re untameable. They’re wild. And that’s half the reason why we like them so much.

So why don’t women go for good guys? Why is calling someone a “nice guy” a backhanded insult?

Maybe it has something to do with nice guys not possessing that faux sense of masculinity that women seem to gravitate towards. Perhaps they radiate a doormat mentality that women don’t find sexy. They’re too predictable? They have low self-esteem? All sorts of reasons come into play here. But the real reason may be genetics. Women are designed to procreate with the strongest possible genes. Bad boys send an unconscious message that they have great genes whereas nice guys send a message that they’re not as confident in their genes.

Regardless of the causes, I will say this… though sex with a bad boy was off the chart, the best relationship and sex of my life was with a really nice guy.

Although he was a cage fighter….