Does your blog still find you attractive?

There appears to be somewhat of a writing epidemic sweeping the blogging nation.

I know many of you have been experiencing some serious blogging apathy lately, and I am not immune.

I can blame so many things if I'm feeling defiant.  For example, my blogging disinterest could be due to...

...all the time I'm putting in at my internship site.

...the stress I'm experiencing due to general lack of finances.

...a low-fiber diet.

...not tonight, I have a headache.

Any and all of the previously mentioned excuses could be contributing factors.

However, as SurferWife was serenading my heart this evening, I realized that I'm coming up on my 2-year blogging anniversary.

That's it!

My blog is bored with me.

So, I've decided that my blog and I need to spice things up.  We've become comfortable and complacent with each other and that's not good enough if we want to keep the magic alive. 

I mean, we still love each other, but it's not exciting like it used to be.  Blogging is no longer new and exciting.  Mind you, it's still fun, but it's a very polite kind of fun.  Now, it's never going to be like it was in the beginning, but that doesn't mean we just give up, damn it!

So, I'm putting in the effort, kids.

Tonight, my blog and I left Twitter and Facebook with a sitter, we put our phones on vibrate (We didn't turn them off, okay?  That's just stupid.) and we got to know each other again.

Naturally, this included taking the blog out for a seafood dinner, getting it drunk, feeling it up in the Red Lobster parking lot for an hour and then letting it pass out in front of the TV to an Anne Murray special on the Hallmark Channel.

Now, I'm writing.

And you know what?  It feels like the first time.

It feels like the very first time!

I'm your worst nightmare is who I is!

In many ways, I am a simple woman.

I don't require my partner to drive a super fancy car.  In fact, I'd rather he didn't because I feel like the insurance would be sky high and I'd rather save that money for a bad-ass vacation.

I don't want this dude to be a world-renowned surgeon because then his work will always come first.

I don't even want a guy who exercises a lot or who is really into working out.  Quite frankly, I can't relate to the elation of "maxing out" after a record number of reps.  I could give a shit.

I bring this up because lately, I'm getting rather annoyed with the men I'm meeting who insist that I'm totally missing out or wasting my life because I'm not  _________ (fill in the blank.)

Most recently, that blank has been filled with hiking, seeing the movie Goonies (shut up, I don't want to hear it), hitting the bars late at night or fully appreciating all the wonders my town has to offer.

I have never liked hiking or bar hopping and I can't tell you how annoyed I get when someone hears of  a movie I haven't seen yet and I'm assaulted with, "WHAT???  You haven't seen it??  Where have you been??"

As it turns out, that reaction does not, in fact, make me want to see your damn movie any more than I already did.

I have had almost the exact same priorities since childhood:

1. Family and friends
2. Food and sleep
3. Television, music, movies, books and pop culture

I respect the hell out of the fact that everyone's priorities are different.  If you want to put your hamster, Mr. Nibbles, at number one, be my guest.  If food doesn't even make your top ten, well, I don't get that but it's your choice.

All I ask is that if you're trying to date me, rather than insist that I need to rearrange my preferences, you recognize that I already know what I want and I'm not shifting anything to include your daily ritual of wombat sacrifice.

You know, unless there's cake.

Why a box of steaks?

Does anyone feel like this when they start a new relationship?

Just me?

Fair enough.