<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233</id><updated>2011-11-30T20:42:11.767-08:00</updated><category term='friends with benefits'/><category term='abusive relationships'/><category term='raising boys'/><category term='6 degrees'/><category term='technology'/><category term='mr. right'/><category term='molly'/><category term='going alone'/><category term='single motherhood'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='Rihanna and Chris Brown'/><category term='Single and lovin&apos; it'/><category term='finding love'/><category term='melissa'/><category term='younger man'/><category term='and the search for love'/><category term='holiday blues'/><category term='drama queen'/><category term='age'/><category term='dating'/><category term='everyone knows everyone'/><category term='heartbreak'/><category term='bad men'/><category term='facebook'/><category term='women'/><category term='Single'/><category term='getting older'/><category term='Sex and the City'/><category term='bad boy'/><category term='cougar'/><category term='paths of life'/><category term='the bachelor'/><category term='jason'/><category term='television'/><category term='commitment'/><category term='St. Patty&apos;s Day'/><category term='domestic abuse'/><category term='small world'/><category term='Love'/><category term='unemployment'/><category term='choices'/><category term='she&apos;s just not that into you'/><category term='dating with kids'/><category term='men'/><category term='loneliness'/><category term='lousy men'/><category term='players'/><category term='breaking up'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>Single in the City</title><subtitle type='html'>Read about the adventures of a single woman in Atlanta, the good, the bad, the ugly...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-8788520752954661762</id><published>2009-12-18T07:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T08:04:14.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamster in the Wheel</title><content type='html'>I haven't written in a long while. I did finally get a job as a secretary for a really great company in the city.  However, my romantic life is the pits.  I have had too many one nighters and too few calls.  And then last night was really pathetic.  I was invited to a party but only knew  one person there so decided not to go and instead hung out at the local tavern.  I had a couple of drinks and then started drunk texting friends inviting them to come by and have a drink with me. I was basically all dressed up and feeling cute but lonely.  Guys were chatting it up with me, but I wasn't interested in  any of them.  So I get a text back from Matt (an old friend that I thought would be fun to see).  He texts that he will come join me.  When he shows up, I realize I called the wrong Matt.  Instead of my friend Matt, its this guy that I went out with once and then made great efforts to blow off. Oops.  Well, I chat it up with him reluctantly catching up even though I really was unsure of how to get out of this one.  Then another guy I texted (an old flame I recently got together with) says he can come meet me!  I tell Matt that my friend who is in town from New York (true story) is on his way over.  I tried to squeeze out of the situation gracefully but in the end I just blew him off rudely.  When my New York friend arrived, I was so excited to see him that I completely ignored Matt.  I do feel bad about being rude, but he did not get the hint.  He just stood next to us the whole time while we caught up with eachother! Finally, he realized that Iwasn't the slightest bit interested in him and said goodbye.  And, as for my New York friend he did not go home with me.  On top of all of that, I overslept and was late for work.  Am I the only one who just can't seem to get it right, no matter how hard I try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-8788520752954661762?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/8788520752954661762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=8788520752954661762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8788520752954661762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8788520752954661762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/12/hamster-in-wheel.html' title='Hamster in the Wheel'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-8086511202442003921</id><published>2009-08-27T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T19:38:51.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True Colors</title><content type='html'>Well, his true colors came out in a big way.  I have been enjoying the life of the cougar with my young boyfriend up until last week.  We were totally getting along, spending practically every night together.  He would come over and cook me dinner and hang out with me and watch TV with my son sound asleep in the other room.  We were enjoying the quickie daliances that couples enjoy when there is a kid involved.  Then, I was working a temp job one night and suggested we go out.  He said he would go ahead as I was getting off late.  He was two beers ahead of me when I arrived (he had also enjoyed several beverages with his friend before).  I met him at our local bar.  He was very ornery right from the start (Perhaps said friend had riled him up?).  He gave me a hard time about not having found a job yet (even though I was paying for the night because he didn't have money from his part time job).  I blew that off.  But then, we arrived at the bar only to find he knew a girl that he had supposedly not slept with, only dated.  She was with another guy.  He decided to obsess over that and wanted to pick a fight with the guy.  I told him he was being ridiculous, that he was with me - yea!   NOT!  He kept obsessing over them and was set on picking a fight.  He told me I wasn't being supportive, that he needed a girl that was supportive.  I told him  I couldn't support him fighting with a total stranger over some girl he supposedly "dated once". We argued unitl we went back to his place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, he awoke early for work and I told him I wanted to go home (so as not to have to pee in his parents' bathroom which he shared).  He got mad at me!  Then he said "I can't do this anymore, we're over and done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was supposed to go to a wedding weekend with me the next day at my parent's lake house and I haven't heard since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of closure is that?  What kind of idiot am I for missing him right now?  What an ASS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-8086511202442003921?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/8086511202442003921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=8086511202442003921' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8086511202442003921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8086511202442003921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-colors.html' title='True Colors'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-7273566703693984870</id><published>2009-07-11T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T06:25:40.988-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='younger man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cougar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating with kids'/><title type='text'>Tides are Changing</title><content type='html'>I have been dating a new guy for about a month now.  I have not had this much fun with a guy in over two years. We have been spending tons of time together and talk every day. He is younger by nine years, so I guess that makes me a cougar - yikes.  He is about as different from my last boyfriend as you can get. My ex had a great job, loads of financial freedom, spoiled me, hardly drank and was very possessive.  My new guy is waffling job-wise, is loads of fun, broke as I am, and is very easy going.  I have decided to let it go that I sometimes have to pay for our dates (even though I can't afford to).  I have decided to let it go that he lives in his parent's garage apartment (state of the economy that I, too, have had to make life changes for). But last night, well, I'm not sure I can just let that go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My phone rang about 1:30 and I slept through it, but then rang again and I woke up.  It was my new guy, Jay.  He had been at a party on the other side of town and wanted to see if he could come over. I told him to be careful that I was worried about him driving after drinking, but that he could if he was quiet (I had my seven year old son and his friend asleep on the couch in the living room). About 10 minutes later he called again saying his car had stalled on the freeway and he needed me to pick him up.  He was angry and cussing up a storm.  I told him I couldn't pick him up because my son and his friend were asleep and there was no way I was going to drag them out in the middle of the night to go pick up my drunk boyfriend on the other side of town. He actually said, "Well, their asleep, just leave them, they won't notice." Seriously. I am not leaving my seven year old son and his friend at 2 am to go pick up my drunk boyfriend on the other side of town.  I told him to cab it.  I haven't heard from him since last night, and I am upset that he hasn't called to tell me he is okay. I am also upset that he posted pictures of the young, pretty girls he was partying with on his facebook last night before all of this happened. It doesn't take long before someone's true colors come out.  I guess that is what I get for dating a younger man. I wonder if this tide is moving out just as it started to come in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-7273566703693984870?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/7273566703693984870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=7273566703693984870' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7273566703693984870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7273566703693984870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-have-been-dating-new-guy-for-about.html' title='Tides are Changing'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-1306633996772388270</id><published>2009-05-13T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T11:02:08.206-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='and the search for love'/><title type='text'>Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SgsLDW92yqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ayzrcm0ThIQ/s1600-h/cafe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 158px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SgsLDW92yqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ayzrcm0ThIQ/s320/cafe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335370335883020962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Guys have been calling me often lately to go out, but I have noticed that I don't care or bother to return their calls (again an obvious sign that they enjoy the chase).  I have come to realize that I a) am not meeting men who spark my interest and b) am really enjoying not having anyone to report to.  I watched two friends of mine recently fall into the love hole, only to watch them struggle as they try to climb out.  One, I'll call Janey, has been dating a guy (the friend of my brother's) and has come to realize that he may very well have a drug problem.  The other, I'll call Jessica, has been seeing a guy who is way too critical about how she lives her life.  I think I've been not returning the calls because I am afraid of falling into that hole again.  I'd prefer to sit at home with my son and watch "American Idol" over dealing with the complications that come with relationships.  And I do find it flattering that guys are calling, but for once in my life I have no desire to pursue them.  Deep down in my heart, I still want to meet that guy who knocks me off of my feet and turns my world around.  But I wonder if it is still possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-1306633996772388270?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/1306633996772388270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=1306633996772388270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1306633996772388270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1306633996772388270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/05/cant-live-with-em-cant-live-without-em.html' title='Can&apos;t Live With &apos;em, Can&apos;t Live Without &apos;em'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SgsLDW92yqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ayzrcm0ThIQ/s72-c/cafe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-2519528912969852824</id><published>2009-04-16T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T17:13:29.881-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><title type='text'>Seems to me dad's have it easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Dating is challenging enough without the added pressure of being a mom.  When do we actually find the time?  I find that I rarely have enough notice from my son's dad (on when he will take my son) to even accept a date.  And those times are few and far between.  And given that I am currently unemployed and recently moved across town, it isn't easy to find a sitter or afford one.  I am lucky that my ex is involved with my son.  However, he travels a lot for work so it isn't very consistent.  One week he will take him on a Saturday, then a few weeks later he will take him all weekend.  It just depends on his schedule.  How lucky is he that he can just take him whenever he feels like it.  I mean how would I know if he was truly working or out on the town every night. Meanwhile, I try to figure out when I can work in a date.  And the guys I am dating seem to lose interest, probably on the basis that they can rarely see me.  I think it would be a lot easier if I were meeting men who have kids of their own; then, perhaps they would at least understand.  Yet the guys I am meeting are unmarried without children.  And I have tried online dating, but I find it is harder to judge a person without meeting them face to face.  And given my limited nights out, it sometimes seems like a big waste of time meeting guys that I know right away are not right for me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;And I also value my girl friends, and love to go out with them when I get the chance.  So I have to be creative  in order to spend time with them and find time to date. I realize now that I have been single for a year.  This has been the longest stretch for me since college without having a relationship.  I do think it is great for me; I need this time to myself.  And I have been enjoying my freedom and being single.  But I also wonder how difficult it will be to meet the man of my dreams if I can only see him every other Saturday (or sometimes less).  If I am not willing to let him meet my child until we are serious, he will have to be awfully patient.  I guess I will take the "wait and see" approach; and when the right guy comes along, hopefully, I will be able to find the time to work him into my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-2519528912969852824?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/2519528912969852824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=2519528912969852824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2519528912969852824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2519528912969852824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/04/seems-to-me-dads-have-it-easy.html' title='Seems to me dad&apos;s have it easy'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4142620533620380105</id><published>2009-04-14T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T03:14:36.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='players'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='she&apos;s just not that into you'/><title type='text'>When it Rains it Pours</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SeRhaBPtYiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/U8E-dn6n0EY/s1600-h/red.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SeRhaBPtYiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/U8E-dn6n0EY/s320/red.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324487759097586210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had three dates this past weekend (it was spring break and my son was at his nana's).  I don't usually date this many guys in one weekend, but they have been calling so what the heck!  Friday, I went out with the guy who was sick on date #1 (I decided to give him a second chance - not sure why).  Sadly I ended up paying for our night out.  I guess he played on my sympathies (he had just lost his father to cancer and is also out of work right now).  But, as a single mom who is struggling to make ends meet, I think it would make more sense if he had paid for half the bill!   And, once again, he invited his lame friend to meet up with us, and talked of the girl he is in love with instead of asking questions about me. Not exactly my knight in shining armor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second date was with Mr. Nice Guy.  He and I had agreed to be just friends and went out and partied like rock stars.  Bad idea.  By the end of the night, he was once again professing his love for me.  Apparently he cannot handle being just friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third date was with Dane, my old college friend.  I am not sure why I keep going out with a man who obviously puts work first.  He texts me for a date after weeks of not talking.  So I meet him for a couple of drinks.  He acts like I am the girl of his dreams the whole time, lingering on my every word, asking me probing questions like "What are you really looking for?"  I shoot them back at him.  He wants a partner, he says.  He also tries to convince me that we would see more of eachother if I would let him come over when my son is home.  I explain that I like to keep my dating life and my mommydom separate.  I don't want my son to get too attached to a guy who may not be around for long.  He tells me everything he thinks I want to hear.  But I don't buy it because actions speak louder than words. In my mind, he is just a player. Not surprisingly, he asks me to come over to his place.  I decline (mainly because I am so tired from my night out with Mr. Nice Guy).  But I am relieved that I declined.  Yes, some good sex would be nice for a change, but I see it more as a booty call, and I feel I may be getting too old for booty calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe its the recent dye job (I just became a red head recently) or maybe it's something in the air, but I am not used to having so many guys asking me out.  I know that I am not truly interested in any of them, but they keep calling.  I guess it's true that guys enjoy a good chase.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4142620533620380105?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4142620533620380105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4142620533620380105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4142620533620380105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4142620533620380105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-it-rains-it-pours.html' title='When it Rains it Pours'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SeRhaBPtYiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/U8E-dn6n0EY/s72-c/red.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-520912810630532731</id><published>2009-04-05T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T13:07:25.698-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='age'/><title type='text'>Age is Not a Contagious Disease!</title><content type='html'>I went out last night, decided to skip the club night with the girls (I'm not much of a club goer).  Went to the local tavern instead.  Chatted it up with a very cute guy.  We hit it off immediately, easy conversation.  We made each other laugh.  Liked the same music and movies. We enjoyed several drinks together over several hours of great conversation.  But then the age question arose.  And I knew he was probably a bit younger; I didn't realize he was only 26.  Yikes, 26.  For me, that was 11 years ago!  I can't tell you how fast he got out of there after realizing how much older I am.  I know I probably don't have much in common with a 26 year old.  I know I have tons more baggage (a divorce, a kid, a slew of exes), but couldn't we at least hang out and be friends?  Is that just impossible?  Was Harry right when he said that women and men cannot be just friends?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-520912810630532731?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/520912810630532731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=520912810630532731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/520912810630532731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/520912810630532731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/04/age-is-not-contagious-disease.html' title='Age is Not a Contagious Disease!'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-6355477256291836046</id><published>2009-03-24T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T09:46:19.544-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Seriously?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SckN5UT4u6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/tM7w5NFAQKQ/s1600-h/hum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 170px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SckN5UT4u6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/tM7w5NFAQKQ/s320/hum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316796113443404706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out on Saturday night with a guy I had met the week before at the St. Patty's event. We had not even talked on the phone; he asked me out through a text. So Romantic. I show up to meet him at his house in a very nice area of Atlanta.  His house is somewhat surprising to me. He lives in an old house that smells of mildew and resembles that of an old frat boy's party home at the beach.  He is 41, so I guess I would expect him to be a little more sophisticated.  He then invites me to hang out and have a beer while we watch some basketball.  Well, I am not a sports fan, but I conceded and sat down in his old comfy chair in a room overflowing with too much furniture.  We chatted for a bit and it became apparent that my date was suffering from a major cold.  He was all stuffed up and coughed quite a bit.  But he said he wanted to go out for a bit (and I had already driven down to the area) so we went to a sports bar near his house.  Once there, he waved over his friend who joined us in a booth, where we ate and enjoyed another beer.  By the end of the meal, he was looking very weary and tired.  I told him so and he agreed he wasn't feeling very good.  So we went back to his place.  He coaxed me into staying a while to keep him company.  We had another drink while listening to some country music in his breakfast room (which had been turned into a bar area with a nice wood bar he built himself glittering with twinkle lights).  He proceeded to talk about a girl he was in love with (for an hour!!!) Then asked my advice on how he should handle the situation (as she like him as just a friend - imagine that). Then, he was obviously not feeling great and wanted to lay down and watch a movie.  I felt his head and noticed he had a fever.  And although he wanted me to keep him company, I declined saying it was still early and I was feeling like going out still.  So I finally left.  Truth was, he seemed like a great guy to have as a friend, but seriously not a match made in heaven.  Why would he go on a first date when he was feeling so ill?  And then sit there and talk about a girl he is obviously still hung up on?! It's times like these that make me wonder why I date at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-6355477256291836046?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/6355477256291836046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=6355477256291836046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/6355477256291836046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/6355477256291836046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/seriously.html' title='Seriously?!'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SckN5UT4u6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/tM7w5NFAQKQ/s72-c/hum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-2746604185484883152</id><published>2009-03-18T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T09:00:43.442-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='6 degrees'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everyone knows everyone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small world'/><title type='text'>It's a Small World in this Big City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/ScEZcT8NUHI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lUMLre5OeeA/s1600-h/image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/ScEZcT8NUHI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lUMLre5OeeA/s320/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314557009453731954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Patty's Day always brings a huge assortment of partying folks out.  And this year it was full of more zany revelers.  My girl friend and I went out to the local pub party at Meehans and thoroughly enjoyed the festivities, imbibing way too much alcohol for our own good.  But that is what St. Patty's Day is all about, right?  Well, we ended up in the local strip joint late at night (as strip clubs are some of the latest clubs open here in Atlanta).  The place was packed!  It's not my usual haunt, but I think it is fun to go occasionally (only after I've over-consumed the beverages).  So there we were flirting drunkenly with guys who were obviously there for other reasons, but my girlfriend is an on-again-off-again dancer (and I once danced myself about 15 years ago) so I guess we attracted some attention.  We ended up staying until closing and going back to a good looking guy's house to party some more (yes, a wild night indeed).  Next thing I know, my girl friend and he are in the bathtub together.  Well, I just planted myself on the couch and called it a night.  The next morning we all go to breakfast together laughing it up about what a fun night we all had.  I asked (just out of curiosity) what he does for a living and he says he works at *(&amp;amp; Bank.  Surprised I said, "Oh really, my brother Rick works there, do you know him?  It turns out, not only does he know him, but he works in the office next door - GULP!  We both laughed it off, but obviously it was embarassing for both of us.  And both of us were deeply relieved that we didn't get together.  Small World, indeed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-2746604185484883152?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/2746604185484883152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=2746604185484883152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2746604185484883152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2746604185484883152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-small-worl-in-this-big-city.html' title='It&apos;s a Small World in this Big City'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/ScEZcT8NUHI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lUMLre5OeeA/s72-c/image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-2910985814919355207</id><published>2009-03-08T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T08:50:50.141-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='going alone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. Patty&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>I'm Magically Delicious</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SbPpPeAL-wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/RDl0668pfDU/s1600-h/writing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 140px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SbPpPeAL-wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/RDl0668pfDU/s320/writing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310844837561105154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a big St. Patty's Day Festival in Piedmont Park yesterday.  This is always a fun event with lots of drinking, good bands and fun people watching, and the weather could not have been more perfect for it.  I went by myself (mainly because I couldn't find anyone to go with me) as part of my new "What the hell, embrace loneliness" attitude.  Well, maybe going to a big drinking festival alone isn't exactly the way to embrace my loneliness.  There I sat on a blanket in the big crowded festival, all alone.  And, guess what, no one approached me (at all). Maybe I seemed like a weird loner, maybe I am just too old for this crowd, I don't know.  I don't think I look much older than everyone else, and I certainly don't look like a weird loner.  I am an attractive blonde, and I was enjoying the music and a beer like everyone else.  But I wasn't wearing a costume or a shirt that said "Eat me, I'm Italian" or "I'm Magically Delicious" or the upside down "If you can read this, put me back on my barstool" (yes, I did see women wearing these). Eventually (after a couple of beers) I did get up and go to the front and dance to the band.  I had fun even though I was utterly and completely alone at this crazy, drunken bash.  I talked to a few random people around me, but none of them invited me to join them and their friends, which I was surprised by really.  After about an hour of dancing I decided to leave.  It was still early (only about 8:00), but I called it a night.  I didn't want to be too drunk to drive (and I knew if I stayed I would want to keep partying).  That is one disadvantage of going alone.  I don't regret going it alone, but I do wish that I had met someone interesting, even a new friend would have been great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-2910985814919355207?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/2910985814919355207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=2910985814919355207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2910985814919355207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2910985814919355207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-magically-delicious.html' title='I&apos;m Magically Delicious'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SbPpPeAL-wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/RDl0668pfDU/s72-c/writing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-2301937597468238072</id><published>2009-03-06T05:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T06:21:19.900-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abusive relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='domestic abuse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rihanna and Chris Brown'/><title type='text'>Rihanna don't go back!</title><content type='html'>All of this news about Rihanna and Chris Brown is very upsetting.  I, too, have been involved with abusive men.  Thankfully, I never got hurt (I got out as soon as I could after the signs were there). In one case, I dated a guy in college who I'll call Ben Stoner (yes, he was); he was the epitome of the frustrated artist.  And one evening I came home after being out with a girl friend and he just threw a jealous fit (I think he might have been doing a little bit more than just pot that night).  He was in such a rage that I threw a chair at him to defend myself.  Then  he threatened to kill me and proceeded to get a gun.  I got away quick and ran out of the house to phone the police.  Ben also ran out of the house and the cops found him in the woods and took him to jail (he was then tranferred to a mental hospital for a few days).  I was so hooked though and I remember it killed me to let him go.  I did the right thing though, and packed his stuff up and moved him out.  I had constant nightmares about him after that; and since we had the same friends, I was constantly running into him. So I dropped out of college as a result of the whole drama. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later, I thought I was past playing the enabler. However, my recent relationship proves "once and enabler, always an enabler," for it also showed definite signs of abuse.  Jake (who my friend refers to as Dumb F*ck) was very possessive and got very irate one day after I came back from a girlfriends party (she lived pretty far so I had spent the night). Long story short, I ended up locked in a bathroom with him (he wouldn't let me leave) standing in a towel sobbing as he threw things, punched holes in the door and shouted obscenities at me.  When I finally got passed him (he was a foot taller and much stronger than I) I ran for the phone to call the  police and he tried to get the phone from me.  I bit his wrist and made a quick call as he ran out of the house.  I would love to say this was the last I ever saw of him, but, no, I stayed in that mess of a relationship for close to six more months.  Even after he had called my parents and told them a bunch of lies and truths I really wish they didn't know about me.  He continued to prove what a Dumb F*ck he was by following me, checking my phone calls, and even arguing with me in front of my child at Disney World of all places!  Yes, I finally did leave him, but God knows, it took me way too long to get out of there (part of the reason was I was unemployed then too). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Rihanna, take note: No Good Will Come of Your Relationship with Chris Brown.  These guys don't change.  We want them to.  We want to believe we can bring out the best in them.  But in the end, they bring out the worst in us.  And, truly, I would rather be in NO relationship than a bad relationship. I know I have lived it, but I truly hope I have learned from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-2301937597468238072?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/2301937597468238072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=2301937597468238072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2301937597468238072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/2301937597468238072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/rihanna-dont-go-back.html' title='Rihanna don&apos;t go back!'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4284360469488144349</id><published>2009-03-05T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T06:45:36.346-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='raising boys'/><title type='text'>Embrace the Loneliness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa_liu8LOEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/6yB634tB_Io/s1600-h/alone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 108px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa_liu8LOEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/6yB634tB_Io/s320/alone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309714870571841602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to embrace my loneliness.  I have spent  over a year being lonely as hell, meanwhile dating many guys to no avail.  But right now I just need to focus on being my own best friend.  I realize how hard this is for me, given that I have always been seeing someone.  I have floated from one guy to the next with little time in between.  And, for that reason, I am not used to this lonely feeling.  But this is good for me.  It gives me time to explore myself as I never have before.  My biggest downfall in life has been to follow in the footsteps of the guy of the moment.  I dropped out of college because of a guy (actually one that I was running away from and one that I was running to).  I didn't go to L.A. to pursue acting because of a guy (he didn't want to go and yet now he lives there and is successful in the biz and engaged to Madonna's assistant).  I didn't pursue my dream of acting because I got married to a guy.  And I have moved more times than I want to admit because of a guy.  I need to stop changing my life because of my endless quest to find the right guy.  I need to focus on me and my own happiness.  And truthfully, I have, in some ways, liked being alone.  I can watch whatever I want on tv.  I discipline my son the way I want without anyone telling me I am doing it wrong.  I can spend more time with my son.  I can do what I want when I want.  And I don't have to spend extra energy trying to please someone else.  I think this time is crucial to my own personal development.  Has it been difficult at times? Yes, but then again so are relationships.  Has it been scary to realize that if I died suddenly there wouldn't be anyone there to bawl at my bedside - yes.  Okay, my son would, but that is what keeps me going.  My son is the most precious thing to me, and when I realize I am raising a little guy who is going to grow into one of these men of the world, well, it just makes me want to focus on making him the best guy he can be.  Because some day he is going to meet a girl, and she will fall in love with him.  When that happens I want to make sure he knows how to treat a girl right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4284360469488144349?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4284360469488144349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4284360469488144349' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4284360469488144349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4284360469488144349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/embrace-loneliness.html' title='Embrace the Loneliness'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa_liu8LOEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/6yB634tB_Io/s72-c/alone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4660564612023790547</id><published>2009-03-03T05:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T06:00:31.092-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jason'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the bachelor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='molly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melissa'/><title type='text'>The Bachelor's Decision</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa03uVXyxrI/AAAAAAAAADs/c7dla-099k4/s1600-h/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 170px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa03uVXyxrI/AAAAAAAAADs/c7dla-099k4/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308960804890134194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confess I watch "The Bachelor" on a regular basis, and last night's episode was indeed a doozy.  Jason was forced to choose between two women - Melissa and Molly.  He chose Melissa and proposed to her in what would have made a romantic fairy tale ending to the show, but wait - its not over.  Because right after, the follow up show "After the Final Rose" comes on and he decides that things aren't going as he wished six weeks later and dumps Melissa on air! Then he immediately asks Molly if he can try dating her again!  At first I thought "What a cad!"  But then I got to thinking: haven't we all made decisions and then changed our minds once we learned we weren't right for eachother?  I know I have.  I once was dating a sweet, fun college professor who I was really into, and when I realized he wasn't as into me as I was into him, I decided to dump him for the Mr. Executive who was really into me and showed it.  That was a mistake on my part.  I should have stayed with Mr. College Professor to see where it was going.  It may not have gone anywhere, but I realize now that going with Mr. Executive was a huge error in judgement.  And isn't this what Jason did?  He realized that Melissa wasn't the right girl for him, and rather than stringing her along just because the audience would want them to stay together, he chose to let her go. I don't think it was right for him to do it on national television and humiliate Melissa in front of millions of people, but he was right to let her go if he didn't feel it in his heart. And Molly, well, lets just say I'll be very surprised if it works out between them.  She, after all, is second choice.  They might beat the odds and make it work, but I doubt it.  After all, he has a lot of explaining to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4660564612023790547?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4660564612023790547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4660564612023790547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4660564612023790547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4660564612023790547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/03/bachelors-decision.html' title='The Bachelor&apos;s Decision'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sa03uVXyxrI/AAAAAAAAADs/c7dla-099k4/s72-c/3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5888653063257370759</id><published>2009-02-26T12:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T12:42:04.560-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breaking up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='finding love'/><title type='text'>She's Just Not That Into You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sab-lqBVUCI/AAAAAAAAADc/fG4B2c4ga-A/s1600-h/free.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sab-lqBVUCI/AAAAAAAAADc/fG4B2c4ga-A/s320/free.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307209133791203362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I feel terrible.  I had to let Mr. Nice Guy move on.  I just wasn't being fair to him.  I was very honest with him about not feeling the same way.  I continued to go out with him anyway.  And he fell in love with me.  When he gave me the mushy Valentine's Day love poem though, I just couldn't take it anymore.  It made me uncomfortable since I don't feel the same way about him.  And so, sadly, I had to tell him I cannot continue to see him knowing that he feels that way about me.  And part of me wishes I could learn to love such a kind, caring guy.  He just didn't float my boat.  I need a more manly man, someone who is strong and charismatic.  And he just wasn't.  And I really would like to find a guy who is passionate about not only me, but about his job, and other things, too.  He definitely was not.  And the sex, well, definitely not exciting to me.  I think once you have experienced really great sex, it is hard to go back to mediocre, ho-hum romps in the covers.  So, now I am dateless again.  I feel like I need to take a major break from dating.  I guess its hard to meet someone when you spend most of your time looking for a job.  I do have hope that things will get better.  I need to believe that this is just a low on the roller coaster of life and that the highs are right around the next curve.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5888653063257370759?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5888653063257370759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5888653063257370759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5888653063257370759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5888653063257370759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/02/shes-just-not-that-into-you.html' title='She&apos;s Just Not That Into You'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/Sab-lqBVUCI/AAAAAAAAADc/fG4B2c4ga-A/s72-c/free.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-3166401271978849968</id><published>2009-02-13T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T09:45:46.088-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>I'm Not Gonna Write You a Love Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZWvG4vh0DI/AAAAAAAAADM/7qp_h8his4U/s1600-h/heart+day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZWvG4vh0DI/AAAAAAAAADM/7qp_h8his4U/s320/heart+day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302336669144436786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a slap in the face!  I went out with Dane (college friend, another Mr. Executive) last week and we had a good time again (or so I thought).  It was our third night out together, and, although, I am not thinking long term with him, I did enjoy another night of cavorting and carefree kisses under the covers.  So, here it is: Valentine's weekend, and I haven't heard a word from him.  I don't expect much, mind you, but a call or email would be nice.  So, I shot him an email "Hope your week is going well."  And I get a call back.  He asks if I have my son this weekend.  I take that as "Do you want to go out?" So, I tell him I don't have my son Saturday night (which is true, although I have not made any plans yet - pathetic, I know).  He asks if I would like to do some work for his company to make some extra cash.  What!?  Work - on Saturday night, which happens to be Valentine's night - I don't think so.  I mean, I know I need a job, but really!  Does he really think I am that desperate for money?  And, is he just going to ignore the fact that we have been sleeping together and it is Valentine's weekend?!  So, I told him I don't like the idea of working a Saturday night, but that I would get back to  him if I could find someone to watch my son during the day.  But really, I have no desire to go work at his office on Valentine's Day.  How lousy did that make me feel?  I think I should just blow him off and shoot him another email that says I can't do it.  Then, I should just go out with Mr. Nice Guy, who, of course, has been asking me out for weeks. What would you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-3166401271978849968?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/3166401271978849968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=3166401271978849968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3166401271978849968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3166401271978849968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-not-gonna-write-you-love-song.html' title='I&apos;m Not Gonna Write You a Love Song'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZWvG4vh0DI/AAAAAAAAADM/7qp_h8his4U/s72-c/heart+day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-9094991411443131683</id><published>2009-02-12T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T07:00:58.279-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paths of life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting older'/><title type='text'>The Path Not Taken</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZQ5WqSgDII/AAAAAAAAADE/fs4HlVE0BBY/s1600-h/sigh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 170px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZQ5WqSgDII/AAAAAAAAADE/fs4HlVE0BBY/s320/sigh.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301925722793708674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am moving in a couple of months, so I have been going through my things and getting rid of stuff I don't need anymore.  I am one of those people that has kept all kinds of things from my youth - old diaries, pictures, notes from friends, etc.  I came across some old photos of me from my acting days.  I was young, beautiful, and had stars in my eyes, hope for the future, belief in myself.  What happened to that young woman?  I wish I could go back and be her again.  I wish I could make different choices than I made... different choices that would have led me to a different place than I am at today.  I made so many choices that led me to this place, this person that I am today.  I am lost now.  I somehow got off my path.  How do I get back on?  I am going to be 37 next week.  I am an out of work, lonely single mom.  I never saw myself in this place.  It's like I wandered off course.  I don't know where I am supposed to be, but I know this place does not feel right.  I want to find my way back and get on the right path, the path not taken. I am truly sad about my life.  I want to have hope, to have belief in myself, to have passion and motivation.  I keep searching, spinning, like a hamster in a wheel. I am now that woman who goes out into the world every day with a smile, pretending that everything is okay.  What can I do to be that woman who truly believes it? How do I find the woman I am supposed to be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-9094991411443131683?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/9094991411443131683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=9094991411443131683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/9094991411443131683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/9094991411443131683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/02/path-not-taken.html' title='The Path Not Taken'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SZQ5WqSgDII/AAAAAAAAADE/fs4HlVE0BBY/s72-c/sigh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5434040281848033097</id><published>2009-02-09T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T12:46:58.850-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unemployment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lousy men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='and the search for love'/><title type='text'>Looking for Love in all the wrong places</title><content type='html'>I want to feel that kind of love that sweeps you off your feet, that devastating feeling that you cannot possibly live without someone, that love that you see in the movies that makes me swoon with envy.  This is what everyone wants, right?  And the sad fact of the matter is that I am nowhere near able to open my heart to such a love and there is no one is sight that will cause such an effect on me.  I feel expendable and useless and unmotivated, mostly because of my endless quest to find a job.  If one doesn't love herself how can one find love.  I certainly don't love my life or myself much lately.  I have been trying to make the best of lousy circumstances, and I have been doing my best to find a job, to no avail.  And the men I have been meeting...well, lets just say they aren't men that I can see myself with long term..Let's see there was the guy whose wife had a restraining order on him, and the guy who was in prison for 10 years for drug smuggling, and, of course, the college friend... well, he is fun, but I have come to realize that it is just a rebellious act on my part because I know we aren't right for each other and no one I know would approve.  So, now what.  I will just continue to try to be the best I can be.  I will continue to search for passion, motivation and a commitment to be a better person.  Because, right now, that is all I know to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5434040281848033097?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5434040281848033097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5434040281848033097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5434040281848033097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5434040281848033097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/02/looking-for-love-in-all-wrong-places.html' title='Looking for Love in all the wrong places'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5719027233563970533</id><published>2009-01-16T05:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T06:06:23.536-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex and the City'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends with benefits'/><title type='text'>Simmer vs. Sizzle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SXCUWAU_wUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a4-Q1pzohU/s1600-h/sizzle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SXCUWAU_wUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a4-Q1pzohU/s320/sizzle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291892667926430018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still looking for a job.  Wow, this economy is so lousy.  It has never taken me this long to find employment.  But I am getting by (thanks to a very supportive family).  I do have an interview today with Mr. Nice Guy's company.  How crazy is that?  I may end up working for the same company as him!  He and I are still dating; he even gave me a pretty bracelet for Christmas.  But I felt guilty: A) Because I couldn't afford to get him anything and B) because I don't have such strong feelings for him.  I really like him, but as a friend.  I have been honest with him about the fact that I am not ready for anything serious. I do have a connection with him, but I crave that magic, that spark, that "I can't go a day without talking to you" feeling.  And the sex, well, lets just say it isn't magical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have some magical sex over the holidays though.  I met up with an old college friend that I hadn't seen in over 15 years!  We hit it off just like old times.  We were "friends with benefits" in college and he was one of my firsts.  So it was wild when we ended up wrapped in eachother's arms at the end of the night, once again after so many years.  And, wow, it was hot... hotter than I remembered.  We were just kids back then.  I was 19 and he was 21.  And now, well, we aren't kids anymore.  Don't know if we will get together again.  Maybe it wasn't as good for him as it was for me.  But after all these years, I would still be up for more fun with him.  I know it probably won't go anywhere (it fizzled out the first time around), but I welcome some sizzle in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5719027233563970533?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5719027233563970533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5719027233563970533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5719027233563970533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5719027233563970533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2009/01/simmer-vs-sizzle.html' title='Simmer vs. Sizzle'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SXCUWAU_wUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a4-Q1pzohU/s72-c/sizzle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-6683167651797238745</id><published>2008-12-12T06:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T06:32:38.050-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holiday blues'/><title type='text'>Light my Fire for the Holidays</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SUJ1_BbaayI/AAAAAAAAAC0/5SOSaT3sNy0/s1600-h/holiday+blues.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 170px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SUJ1_BbaayI/AAAAAAAAAC0/5SOSaT3sNy0/s320/holiday+blues.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278911438807264034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't written in a while.  I have been down in the dumps after being laid off from my job.  Like a lot of people, I am jobless and down and out for the holidays.  I have been thinking so much about life lately.  I miss being young and carefree.  I keep in touch with a lot of old friends from school on Facebook and I suppose it is a constant reminder of my wilder, younger days when being a free spirit was completely okay.  Now that I am a mom, this is not the case.  I feel so lonely, a loneliness that I haven't felt before.  And what I feel most of all, is desperate for excitement.  I want to be lit up again.  I want to feel anticipation, the kind that comes with a new love, a new job, a new interest.  But right now, I am not interested in anything.  I am dreading the coming weeks and wish that the year would be over NOW.  I feel the coming year will be a better one.  This year has been filled with such angst, worry and bad luck.  I left a nightmarish relationship that has left me with a concrete wall of distrust and fear.  I lost two jobs that I liked.  I hate to feel sorry for myself because I am so lucky in so many ways, but I do feel like I deserve way more than I have gotten this year.  I guess my bad decisions have caught up with me.  So here I am, 36, out of work, lonely, jaded and poor.  Happy F*cking Holidays!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-6683167651797238745?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/6683167651797238745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=6683167651797238745' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/6683167651797238745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/6683167651797238745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/12/light-my-fire-for-holidays.html' title='Light my Fire for the Holidays'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SUJ1_BbaayI/AAAAAAAAAC0/5SOSaT3sNy0/s72-c/holiday+blues.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5892697442091543897</id><published>2008-11-07T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T07:47:57.849-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><title type='text'>MEOW!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRRi5BQFm_I/AAAAAAAAACs/yJJqQPDyFzk/s1600-h/type.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265942596030929906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRRi5BQFm_I/AAAAAAAAACs/yJJqQPDyFzk/s320/type.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Mr. ER Nurse came over the other night. I have to admit I was pretty smooth. I had ordered a pizza that just happened to arrive just after he did. I invited him to join us for pizza and he did. We had a nice chat over dinner and then he left with the kitten and my phone number :). He also gave me his full name so I looked him up on Facebook and made him my "friend". But I was disconcerted when I saw his interests were "hard rock music, motorcycles and guns". I hate hard rock music, dislike motorcycles (had my fun on them when I was young, but then a friend of mine was paralyzed and it scared me off of them for good), and I am seriously against guns. I don't know if I even want to go out with him now. I mean he obviously is a bad boy type and that is exactly what I don't need in my life right now. He didn't seem like a bad boy. After all, he is a nurse in the ICU and ER. And he seemed super sweet. He was getting the kitten for his three year old daughter's birthday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and I didn't even mention his pictures showed off his hot bod with several tattoos. Not a big fan of those either. I guess my fantasy nurse isn't really for me. Or should I go out with him just to see what he is truly all about?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5892697442091543897?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5892697442091543897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5892697442091543897' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5892697442091543897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5892697442091543897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/11/meow.html' title='MEOW!'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRRi5BQFm_I/AAAAAAAAACs/yJJqQPDyFzk/s72-c/type.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-8748957254826337278</id><published>2008-11-04T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T12:39:39.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday was Cloudy, but I got my Silver Lining</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRCzBBm46kI/AAAAAAAAACk/yyB1G-BBT5c/s1600-h/girly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264904794588899906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRCzBBm46kI/AAAAAAAAACk/yyB1G-BBT5c/s320/girly.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wrote before about interesting places to meet men, but this is a new one for me. I had to go to the Emergency Room yesterday after stepping on a sliver of glass that I could not dislodge. So there I am in the ER when a handsome nurse walks in, "Hello, I'm Jake." Hmmm, "Really," I said, "Jake was the name of one of my ex-boyfriends. He looks at my chart, "Seriously, because Karma (not my real name) was the name of one of my ex-girlfriends." Do I think he was telling the truth - perhaps. He then proceeded to go through the general nursing questions and asked how it had happened. I told him that my cat had knocked a bowl off the counter, that I thought I had gotten the mess cleaned up, but apparently not because I managed to slice my heel open. He nodded and said, "So, you're a cat person, huh?" I told him that I actually was a cat lover and that I had just had a litter of kittens, but was down to just two kittens (and two cats). He asked if I was giving any more away because his daughter's birthday was this week. "That's funny. My son's birthday is this Friday." Another coincidence, I thought grinning (probably stupidly). Well, then after my x-rays, I was obviously appearing very anxious about the upcoming shot, and he offered to hold my hand while I cringed through the removal of said foreign object. I declined, embarassed because I was so anxious about the whole process. It did hurt like hell so I am glad he wasn't there to witness the amount of praying and yelling I did while the doctor put a needle in my foot. But he came in after to run through my check-out procedure. I gave him my number saying "Thanks so much and call me if you would like the kitten. She's really sweet."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He left a message already for me today, and I don't think it was just for the kitten ;). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-8748957254826337278?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/8748957254826337278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=8748957254826337278' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8748957254826337278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8748957254826337278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/11/yesterday-was-cloudy-but-i-got-my.html' title='Yesterday was Cloudy, but I got my Silver Lining'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SRCzBBm46kI/AAAAAAAAACk/yyB1G-BBT5c/s72-c/girly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-3589874867967921147</id><published>2008-10-22T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T13:27:41.861-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartbreak'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commitment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Breaking through the concrete</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SP-MHuhr_NI/AAAAAAAAACc/yj6gdM_8iQY/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260076954168327378" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SP-MHuhr_NI/AAAAAAAAACc/yj6gdM_8iQY/s320/sunset.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This time last year I was going through absolute hell in my relationship. My boyfriend at the time was showing his oh-so-possesive, controlling jealous asshole side on a consistent basis. So much so that I was afraid of what the consequences would be if I left. So, after surviving the relationship from hell last year, I am still very much afraid of falling for anyone. I mean, how does one trust again after seeing a fun, passionate relationship turn into a treacherous disaster full of distrust and despair. I don't know that I was ever in love with him; I think I just fell in love with the idea of him. He was so different in reality than what I made him out to be. It was easy to make him about to be the man of my dreams since it was long distance for the first year of our relationship. But when he moved in, the red flags started waving furiously. I ignored them, wanting so badly to believe he was who I wanted him to be. But I could only ignore them for so long. Because they went from red flags to grenades being thrown at me. In six months of living together, I found out who he truly was - a controlling, possessive, jealous person with no respect for who I truly was. I put up with it all for six months still after that! I wish I hadn't but felt I didn't have a choice since I got laid off right when I was breaking things off with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that is why I have no desire to get into a serious relationship right now. I am enjoying dating when I can find time for it. I am enjoying the casual first meetings, fun nights out, first kisses, etc. But I guess I wonder if it is really possible to find true love. Every girl wants it. But I wonder if I will be searching for it the rest of my life. Would I miss it if it were right in front of me because I carry so much baggage with me wherever I go? Will anyone be able to break down the walls that I have so carefully constructed around me? Will I know my real prince when he stares into my eyes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-3589874867967921147?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/3589874867967921147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=3589874867967921147' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3589874867967921147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3589874867967921147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/10/breaking-through-concrete.html' title='Breaking through the concrete'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SP-MHuhr_NI/AAAAAAAAACc/yj6gdM_8iQY/s72-c/sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5803680937403510726</id><published>2008-10-08T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T11:04:16.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slightly Smitten</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOz1t5V7RQI/AAAAAAAAACU/xsHMrXEl8ME/s1600-h/smitten.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254845034070230274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOz1t5V7RQI/AAAAAAAAACU/xsHMrXEl8ME/s320/smitten.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, we have had over 7 dates (lost count) at this point - me and Mr. Nice Guy. Every date has been fun. Every date he has acted like a gentleman. Every date I have felt good about. I must finally admit to myself that I like him. He is sweet, kind, easy going. I felt in the beginning that maybe I shouldn't continue dating him because he was really taking an obvious liking to me (he gave me flowers; his girl friend said he was really into me, etc.). But I am glad I hung in there. Why did I hang in there? Because I was enjoying every date with him and enjoying his company, mainly as a friend. I thought perhaps he isn't boyfriend material (for one, I am not sure he can afford me - I can be quite a high maintenance girlfriend at times). But he has paid for every date, proving that maybe he understands what I am used to. I am used to being wined and dined after my last boyfriend (and it kind of spoiled me). He could afford to buy me things and take me places, including Europe twice last year, as well as New York and Orlando. And yet I am enjoying the laid back, mellow feeling I get when I am around Mr. Nice Guy. I am completely myself. I don't have to dress up (which I always felt I had to do for said ex-boyfriend), I don't have to be anyone other than myself. I am comfortable with him, just being me. So now, I admit, I like him. Where will it take me? I have no idea. I hope my cumbersome baggage doesn't play a role in this relationship. I hope I can be honest, real and good to him. And I hope he can be with me. He did admit to me that he hasn't "touched anyone else since he was with me". I can't say the same, but he didn't ask. Have I slept with anyone lately? No, but I still have had a couple of nights out where I wasn't quite so pure. Do I want a commitment with him? Absolutely not. I am not ready for that by any means. Do I expect him to be loyal to me only at this point? I wouldn't ask him to be, out of fairness, but I hope he doesn't sleep with anyone else. I guess that is where communication comes into play. Different people have different opinions on what is appropriate when dating. So I suppose in my mind I am committing to not sleeping with anyone else until I see where things are headed with Mr. Nice Guy. And, truth be told, I haven't been interested in dating someone else either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5803680937403510726?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5803680937403510726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5803680937403510726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5803680937403510726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5803680937403510726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/10/slightly-smitten.html' title='Slightly Smitten'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOz1t5V7RQI/AAAAAAAAACU/xsHMrXEl8ME/s72-c/smitten.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-3567643794802581683</id><published>2008-10-02T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:44:45.358-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drama queen'/><title type='text'>What's a Drama Queen to do?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOUjS4cVvtI/AAAAAAAAACM/BylrvR6lVro/s1600-h/image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOUjS4cVvtI/AAAAAAAAACM/BylrvR6lVro/s320/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252643347693420242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am going through a phase where I am just bored with everything.  I am the kind of person who is constantly in flux.  I went to five different schools.  I have had countless jobs in various industries.  I have dated many men. I have even lived in many different homes (but I have stayed in Georgia for the most part). I am flighty, indecisive and don't know what I want. So when my life is steady and without excitement, I tend to crave the drama.  Its not like I really want my life to be dramatic, but it tends to be so. And when everything slows down and I don't have drama in my life, well, I feel sort of aimless.  And presently things have slowed down.  I haven't been in the mood to date.  I can't afford to go anywhere or do much of anything.  I don't have much to look forward to.  Why can't I be satisfied with the status quo?  Why must I always have something going on in order to feel fulfilled?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-3567643794802581683?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/3567643794802581683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=3567643794802581683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3567643794802581683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/3567643794802581683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/10/whats-drama-queen-to-do.html' title='What&apos;s a Drama Queen to do?'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SOUjS4cVvtI/AAAAAAAAACM/BylrvR6lVro/s72-c/image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5726962570655683156</id><published>2008-09-25T10:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T10:23:19.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RANT</title><content type='html'>Excuse me, but I want to rant a bit.  I am tired of men and dating.  I am tired of this damn economy.  I am just plain tired.  I try so hard, sometimes I try too hard to create a happy, fun life and lately I just seem to be getting nowhere, like the little hamster in the wheel.  I feel completely depleted this week.  I love my job because it distracts me from the realities of my life.  The brides are always happy and excited to be trying on dresses for their upcoming nuptials.  Most are thin and beautiful.  And I really enjoy making them happy by helping them find the perfect dress.  But sometimes it can get to me.  They have enough money to spend thousands on a dress they will wear one time!  They are thin and young and beautiful.  Meanwhile I am over 35, trying to scrape together enough money to fill my gas tank.  It is frustrating.  I am trying so hard to make ends meet as a single mom, but lately it just doesn't seem to be happening.  I am stressed and can't seem to figure out how to pay my bills.  I don't want to get a new job, but fear I may have to if business doesn't pick up.  And I just feel lousy that at 36, this is my life.  I keep telling myself things will get better, but when?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5726962570655683156?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5726962570655683156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5726962570655683156' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5726962570655683156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5726962570655683156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/rant.html' title='RANT'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5215574775429411238</id><published>2008-09-19T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T13:28:30.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth be Told</title><content type='html'>So, looks like I ended things with one of my suitors, this guy I went out with (Mr. Wife) a month or so ago.  We had a good time; went out four times. But the last time we went out he said "I'm an asshole".  Well, I don't really want to be with an asshole; I've been with enough of them to know that. So he asked me out several times after that (via email) and I kept putting him off (I did have other plans, but I just didn't make him a priority because what he said bothered me).  Then, he emailed me today asking why I hadn't talked and whether he had said or done something wrong.  So I told him straight that he told me he was an ass and I didn't want to date an ass.  Well, then he denied his assholeness.  Whatever!  I just don't think that I want to stick around to find out if he is indeed an ass or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So, lets see... how's this dating thing going?  I would say I am getting quite bored of it.  The first guy I dated (after my last relationship ended) told me on the third date that his wife had a restraining order against him, another tells me he's an ass and many more just don't seem to be gellin' with me.  I guess I don't really know why I am dating so much lately anyway.  I mean I am not interested in getting married again and I really don't even want to get serious with anyone.  I guess I am just feeling lonely and bored. Meeting new people is usually fun, but lately I haven't felt like I am meeting the kind of guys I want to hang out with.  And it sure would be nice to feel that excitement again, but I know what that leads to...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5215574775429411238?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5215574775429411238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5215574775429411238' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5215574775429411238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5215574775429411238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/truth-be-told.html' title='Truth be Told'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-5310156570853377081</id><published>2008-09-18T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T09:16:31.171-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='technology'/><title type='text'>New Rules Apply</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SNJ9kpwPVTI/AAAAAAAAACE/tmgtK7O-Tpo/s1600-h/questions.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SNJ9kpwPVTI/AAAAAAAAACE/tmgtK7O-Tpo/s320/questions.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247394584476996914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Dating today is so different now.  Technology has really changed the whole scene.  What with match site dating and texting and email, it really is a different world.  And I'm not so sure I like it.  As much as I find it easy to avoid talking to someone I don't want to converse with, I find it harder to get to know someone if you mainly communicate through texts and emails.  And truthfully, I don't have time to answer my phone and chat awhile anyway.  I work all day and take care of my child in the evenings.  So a brief email to confirm a date works fine.  But can you still really get to know someone if there is no verbal communication during the week? Does this slow the getting-to-know-you process?  It seems to take away from the whole concept of a guy trying to woo a girl.  What kind of romantic courtship is taking place through a text?  It seems to diminish the importance of the date.  It keeps it on a casual level.  So is this letting guys off easy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-5310156570853377081?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/5310156570853377081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=5310156570853377081' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5310156570853377081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/5310156570853377081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-rules-apply.html' title='New Rules Apply'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SNJ9kpwPVTI/AAAAAAAAACE/tmgtK7O-Tpo/s72-c/questions.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-1300750435385073136</id><published>2008-09-12T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T11:18:17.155-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mr. right'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><title type='text'>Meeting Mr. Right</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMqkImqb0nI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1ds9mxcQOVg/s1600-h/party+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMqkImqb0nI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1ds9mxcQOVg/s320/party+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245185183750804082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I work in a bridal shop (yes, I know its completely ironic). One thing I always ask the brides is "How did you meet him?"  Most of the time I get pretty standard answers: "Through friends", "At Church", or "At school".  But I always like to hear because, I  guess, part of me wonders where I will meet my Mr. Right.  But when I think back to how I met the guys I dated seriously in the past, well, it wasn't so standard. My ex-husband and I met through work, which is pretty common, but we "fooled around and fell in love" which isn't.  My last boyfriend - Mr. Executive - was from out of town and I met him in the Atlanta Airport.  He was an international businessman in from London.  I was on my way to a wedding in Florida, a case of when "two worlds collided".    Then there was an ex-boyfriend (definitely a Mr. Nice Guy) who I met over a body shot of tequila (my crazy impulsiveness on that one).  I guess he caught my eye right away.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;None of these relationships worked out in the end, obviously or I wouldn't still be single, but they were fascinating learning experiences if nothing else.  I have had other boyfriends over the years who I did meet in school or through friends, but they don't stand out in my mind as much as those three probably because the relationships didn't last as long. These are three men who I dated for 2 years or more and lived with. So who knows where I will meet the next one?  I believe it will be something unusual once again, when I least expect it. What is the wildest or most interesting place you ever met someone you fell for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-1300750435385073136?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/1300750435385073136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=1300750435385073136' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1300750435385073136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1300750435385073136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/meeting-mr-right.html' title='Meeting Mr. Right'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMqkImqb0nI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1ds9mxcQOVg/s72-c/party+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-8670035738771894847</id><published>2008-09-11T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T07:51:10.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Hottie - Not so hot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMkwUCKSIPI/AAAAAAAAABs/k45plRu5aKw/s1600-h/graphic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMkwUCKSIPI/AAAAAAAAABs/k45plRu5aKw/s320/graphic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244776361785172210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So I saw Mr. Hottie again last night.  Was at a posh bar in Buckhead where all of the hotties hang out.  Well, my view of Mr. Hottie totally changed. I must have had my beer goggles or been averted by his hot abs when he raised his shirt.  He said hello and then proceeded to compliment my girlfriend (not me).  He made several rude, obnoxious comments and showed what a country boy he truly is.  He tried to hang around me and my friend awhile (I guess he figured he got it from me once, shouldn't be too hard to get again).  But I was so turned off by his personality that he lost all of his hot appeal.  I guess some fantasies are just that - fantasies.  Do I regret my one night stand with him? No because it was fun at the time.  But will I do it again.  I don't think so.  Hotness only takes a guy so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-8670035738771894847?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/8670035738771894847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=8670035738771894847' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8670035738771894847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8670035738771894847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/mr-hottie-not-so-hot.html' title='Mr. Hottie - Not so hot'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMkwUCKSIPI/AAAAAAAAABs/k45plRu5aKw/s72-c/graphic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-8327442393761394158</id><published>2008-09-10T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T09:28:01.612-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Rich Girl, Poor Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMfubK55tXI/AAAAAAAAABk/X8mNlhblMEY/s1600-h/rgpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMfubK55tXI/AAAAAAAAABk/X8mNlhblMEY/s320/rgpg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244422441647322482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Have you noticed that most of the television shows lately revolve around the rich?  When did the middle class become so uninteresting? What happened to "Roseanne" or "Kate and Allie" or even "The Gilmore Girls"?  Now we have "Dirty, Sexy, Money", "Privileged", "Gossip Girl" and the return of "90210". These are just a few of many shows on television that feature the upper class.  These people never have to figure out how they are going to fill up their tank of gas to get to work, instead they drive fancy cars to posh restaurants and don't work ("Gossip Girl") .  They don't worry about how they  will afford childcare;  no, they spend $1500  a week for a tutor ("Privileged")!  I feel my life is pretty interesting even if  some of my biggest challenges are financial ones.  I guess I miss the days or "Kate and Allie" and "Roseanne" where true women and families were represented on television.  Poor Girls still have drama, temptation and fun. And, I feel we have to be much more creative in life than the rich.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-8327442393761394158?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/8327442393761394158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=8327442393761394158' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8327442393761394158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/8327442393761394158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/rich-girl-poor-girl.html' title='Rich Girl, Poor Girl'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMfubK55tXI/AAAAAAAAABk/X8mNlhblMEY/s72-c/rgpg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4026196627547697460</id><published>2008-09-09T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T13:30:41.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Guys Finish Last?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMbc6qqZ7BI/AAAAAAAAABc/ioA8tvHzlJQ/s1600-h/nightlife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMbc6qqZ7BI/AAAAAAAAABc/ioA8tvHzlJQ/s320/nightlife.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244121716562193426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I go out on date number 5 with Mr. Nice Guy.  He is sweet, genuine, and very fun to hang out with.  We went to a great dinner at a seafood place.  The food was amazing; the company, good. Then we had tickets to a concert in a downtown music venue. We had a blast watching a very talented performer on stage; and since I had bought the tickets and suggested we go, I was very happy that he enjoyed it as much as me.  We then followed up with several drinks around the downtown area.  He got a little too drunk (I guess that was the Frat Boy side of him) and admitted toward the end of the night that he is really into me.  Well,  I really like going out with him and definitely have a good time with him, but I am not so into him.  At this point (5 dates) I know this is not a match made in heaven.  I just don't feel that zing that I want to feel.  I am comfortable with him, no doubt, but I just don't feel like my heart will explode or that I want to dress up for him or do anything special for him. In fact, if he didn't call I don't think I would care too much.  I guess I like him as a friend.  And, of course,  I feel bad about this.  Now what do I do?  Do I let him down easy and just let him go on his way? Do I keep going out with him until it just fizzles out?  Do I admit that I see him as just a friend?  Any suggestions? Is it true that nice guys finish last?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4026196627547697460?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4026196627547697460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4026196627547697460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4026196627547697460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4026196627547697460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/good-guys-finish-last.html' title='Good Guys Finish Last?'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SMbc6qqZ7BI/AAAAAAAAABc/ioA8tvHzlJQ/s72-c/nightlife.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-409716057307529788</id><published>2008-09-04T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T07:35:08.874-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex and the City'/><title type='text'>Charlotte vs. Samantha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_u4S_h9kI/AAAAAAAAABI/aL95V6SZQw0/s1600-h/boots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 167px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_u4S_h9kI/AAAAAAAAABI/aL95V6SZQw0/s320/boots.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242171142220936770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_wly1IsdI/AAAAAAAAABQ/MKqRBz4R2xo/s1600-h/charlotte.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 169px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_wly1IsdI/AAAAAAAAABQ/MKqRBz4R2xo/s320/charlotte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242173023373013458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;eve I suffer from a battle between my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Charlotte side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; and my Sam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;tha side.  The Charlotte in me drea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; of finding "the one"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; guy that sweeps you off your feet, the white knight.  Then there is my Samantha side th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;at just wants to act like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a guy and have fun without a care as to whether they call or not.  Charlotte is sweet and innocent, naive and vulnerable  to hurt. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Samantha is sexy, carefree, and dynamic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; I find that        with some guys my Charlotte comes out and with others Samantha comes out loud and clear. Maybe its the Pisces in me.  Which one are you?  Which one do                                  you think guys g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;o for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_ueizUisI/AAAAAAAAABA/yEegU3pvQJg/s1600-h/charlotte.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-409716057307529788?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/409716057307529788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=409716057307529788' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/409716057307529788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/409716057307529788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/charlotte-vs-samantha.html' title='Charlotte vs. Samantha'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL_u4S_h9kI/AAAAAAAAABI/aL95V6SZQw0/s72-c/boots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-1035168458356294519</id><published>2008-09-03T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T14:23:28.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Naughty or Nice?</title><content type='html'>When I went out with Mr. Hottie the other night, he said something that struck me as funny.  He said, "Wow, and you made yourself out to be so sweet and innocent."  I didn't see that one coming.  I was trying to figure out why he had ever thought that.  Admittedly, I look younger for my age: I have blonde hair, a turned up nose, and blue eyes.  And I was wearing blue jeans trimmed in lace with a lacey top, so I guess my physical appearance is what made him say that.  Because in no way were my actions indicating that I was "sweet and innocent".  I was drinking jack &amp;amp; cokes, touching him seductively, and dancing to the band in my usual somewhat provocative way.  So I guess physical appearance outweighed my actions in this case.  Things that make you go hmmmmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-1035168458356294519?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/1035168458356294519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=1035168458356294519' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1035168458356294519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/1035168458356294519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/naughty-or-nice.html' title='Naughty or Nice?'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-611389672119867817</id><published>2008-09-03T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T13:44:36.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Singles Wikizine</title><content type='html'>My singles wikizine:&lt;br /&gt;www.zimbio.com/Singles?IsNewZine=1&amp;amp;add=True&amp;amp;NewImage=True&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-611389672119867817?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/611389672119867817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=611389672119867817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/611389672119867817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/611389672119867817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/singles-wikizine.html' title='Singles Wikizine'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-7341639285550883436</id><published>2008-09-03T13:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T13:25:54.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.zimbio.com/member/peachofatl"&gt; &lt;img alt="My Zimbio" title="My Zimbio" src="http://www.zimbio.com/images/badges/badgeBlue.png?u=peachofatl" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;a style="margin-top:2px; display:block; font-size:11px; padding-left:10px; color:#244366;" href="http://www.zimbio.com"&gt; Top Stories &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-7341639285550883436?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/7341639285550883436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=7341639285550883436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7341639285550883436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7341639285550883436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/top-stories.html' title=''/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-7415899166464178664</id><published>2008-09-03T13:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T13:22:39.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This one is good too.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.blogrankings.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogrankings.com/images/blogrank.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-7415899166464178664?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/7415899166464178664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=7415899166464178664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7415899166464178664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7415899166464178664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-one-is-good-too.html' title='This one is good too.'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-9247561884644348</id><published>2008-09-03T12:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T12:20:55.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Check them out:</title><content type='html'>http://www.weblogalot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-9247561884644348?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/9247561884644348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=9247561884644348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/9247561884644348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/9247561884644348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/check-them-out.html' title='Check them out:'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4671140534904997591</id><published>2008-09-03T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T12:02:09.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A little help from my friends:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogrankings.com" title="Blogrankings.com a directory of blog sites"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BlogRankings.com&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogrankings.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogrankings.com/images/blogrankings.gif" width="84" height="15" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4671140534904997591?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4671140534904997591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4671140534904997591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4671140534904997591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4671140534904997591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/little-help-from-my-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-7169155915272323672</id><published>2008-09-03T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T10:32:43.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7KLOMcQdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4T2aJPSvzYk/s1600-h/redhair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7KLOMcQdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4T2aJPSvzYk/s320/redhair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241849310443487698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-7169155915272323672?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/7169155915272323672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=7169155915272323672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7169155915272323672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/7169155915272323672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7KLOMcQdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4T2aJPSvzYk/s72-c/redhair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-428857743551166898</id><published>2008-09-03T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T10:18:53.059-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><title type='text'>Guys, Men &amp; Boys</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I have spent almost all of my adult years being single (I was married for 6 of my 36 years).  In that time I have come to some conclusions about guys.  Some may call them stereotypes, but really they are just observations based on my experiences.  Mainly, in my recent dating adventures I have found that guys fall into one of the following categories: &lt;br /&gt;1) Mr. Executive - This is a man who is usually divorced with kids (but not always). He dresses well, is very intelligent, educated and has a great job.  He casually throws in tidbits about his well paying position and likes to shower women with gifts.  He is usually looking for company for a nice evening out, but is definitely hoping to get laid.&lt;br /&gt;2) Mr. Wife - This guy is usually a divorced parent looking for someone to take his wife's place.  He is sensitive to women, gentlemanly and looking to start a relationship as soon as possible.  He will ask you out on a fun date at first, but as soon as he feels close to you, he will ask you if he can cook for you, and then want to cuddle up on the couch with a movie.&lt;br /&gt;3) Mr. Hottie - This guy has  played with the best of them.  He is usually a commitment phobe.  He is used to being ogled by women and can usually get a woman into bed with him on the first date with his smooth moves and charming smile.&lt;br /&gt;4) Mr. Nice Guy - This guy is usually a nerd at heart.  He is  kind, thoughtful and generous.  He can be sweet to a fault.  He can give away his heart very quickly.  He is very excited to be with a beautiful woman and usually shows nervousness on the first date.  He won't make the first move.&lt;br /&gt;5) Mr. Frat Boy - This guy is stuck in his college years.  He loves to party and knows how to have a good time.  He doesn't have high aspirations; he usually just holds down a regular job, if that. He treats women like toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-428857743551166898?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/428857743551166898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=428857743551166898' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/428857743551166898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/428857743551166898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/guys-men-boys.html' title='Guys, Men &amp; Boys'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7983175771568294233.post-4036498384910734548</id><published>2008-09-03T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T08:48:56.869-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single and lovin&apos; it'/><title type='text'>Single in the City</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;So, there I am out and about on a holiday weekend. Went to Piedmont Park for their holiday weekend festival.  That place is always so much fun!  The music, the skyline, the park... Well, it was looking to be a pretty tame night when lo' and behold, hot guy stands right next to me.  My girlfriend I was with and I were laughing at all of the drunken crazies among us.  He pulled up his shirt to scratch his stomach, which revealed the hottest abs underneath.  I had to comment. He asked me how I was doing.  I'm doing better than ever after getting a nice view of your abs, I smiled.  Thought that was about it for that guy.  We chit chatted a few minutes, then he wandered off into the crowd.  Later though, my friend and I went to find a cooler spot (the vents were flowing in the middle of the tent) and there he was.  He chatted with my friend for a few minutes while I chatted with his.  He was with a hot girl who I naturally assumed was his girlfriend, but she wasn't, they were just neighbor friends.  Well, I got the scoop that he was a very nice guy who had just broke up with his girlfriend.  Oh too bad!  I didn't waste any time and went straight into flirtation mode.  Needless to say my friend and I hung out with them all night.  There was another guy too, but neither of us was into him at all.  I truly enjoyed my time with hunky hot guy.  When it was time to go, he invited me to go with him and naturally I did.  Who could resist such a sexy man?  We enjoyed a night that was beyond anything I had experienced in a while.  It was so sexy and hot and just plain great.  Just what a single mom like me needed on a weekend off from parenting.  I must say it has been years since I have slept with someone that turned me on that much.  It was definitely memorable and I look forward to keeping it in my memory even if I never hear from him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7983175771568294233-4036498384910734548?l=singlesatlanta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/feeds/4036498384910734548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7983175771568294233&amp;postID=4036498384910734548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4036498384910734548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7983175771568294233/posts/default/4036498384910734548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://singlesatlanta.blogspot.com/2008/09/single-in-city.html' title='Single in the City'/><author><name>peachofatl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01207880329784039092</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aQ5VR2wXYNA/SL7K3reZxAI/AAAAAAAAAAY/UgGVZmy7Wr4/S220/citygirl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
