As much as I don’t give a damn about the royal wedding, it’s still a reminder of the kool-aid that I drank as a youth that makes me want romance in my life. I currently have none and it sucks, to be frank. It is the equivalent of eating food with no taste, dancing to silence, living in black and white when you KNOW damn well that color exists. I am not in a good place right now. I need loving. And even though I have officially told Daniel/Island Boy to kick rocks, I keep reminiscing on that small slice of romance that he gave me. Oh, it was super brief but it touched me in a special way and I don’t want to get over it. I’m hitting the beach and the town this weekend hoping that I stumble upon some more of it in some form or fashion. Whereas I’d usually opt to wear a big, flowing, comfy dress to the beach, I’ve decided to rock a bikini top and shorts, instead. I need to improve my odds. And then I have my Las Vegas and Costa Rica trips coming up so I’ve been power walking and jogging and stair climbing every chance I get. I refuse to look like a tired, portly, middle-aged mother. It’s been more than 6 months since my face has had an after-sex glow and I’m looking dismal, dammit.