IF you told me 11 years ago that I would be married with several pets, I would tell you you're crazy. Well, here I am. Married, 7 pets, a beautiful home and MARRIED!

I was a spry little 32 year old when I met John. On the internet. He was rude, obnoxious and plain old stupid. Not a good idea for a man to behave, specially with me. I was sassy, strong, self confident and wanted nothing to do with men except for sex.

I had met several very young men, ew, exchange numbers, have the lamest dinner dates possible and wondered if they were lay worthy. Kind of like the whole sponge worthy episode on Seinfeld. He was a hottie or so I thought in my drunken NYE stupor.

It was 1999 and I had sworn to hoodratdom and using the opposite sex, as men had done to women throughout the beginning of man. I wonder if they had bars back then. Odd drinks like the "I just discovered Fire" cocktail. Anyway, that was it! I was going to have sex with strangers and go home. Ha! Or so I thought.

The boys, literally 23, were "eager" to go out. Loved my giant ass and loved the fact that I would make them beg for my number. Serious! I loved it. I had once made this giant cutie pie get down on his knee and ask me for my number LOUDLY during last call as the bar emptied. Everyone saw him and that was mmm mmm good.

The sex never happened, the usage of weirdos, as we know, turned out to be. One was married and almost got me killed. Amazing. One followed me out to my car and actually thought I would go have "breakfast" with him. Oh and another. So gross. We're dancing up in the club and decided I would like for him to touch my ass and attach his mouth to my neck, much like an octopus.

Ok, so the fun was had more with my girlfriends. Turning down drinks and men/boys and "accidentally" grabbing the hotties asses. "Ooops! I am so sorry. Did I do that. Noooo." Or the "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put my boobies on you or in your face." Oh good times. GOOOD EFFING TIMES!

As life went on in this state of mind I gathered what ended up loser after loser. I guess that happens in a bar full of younger than I testosterone filled men. Mmmmmhmmm. Men. The smell of men makes me wild. LITERALLY.

I met John right at the highpoint of hoochie time. I got that close. I was going to FINALLY get laid after a 3 year dry spell. He interfered with my self destructive behavior! He got in the way, if you will. And I was thankful. But married?

Marriage, weird word. Firey weekend sex buddies? Now that's awesome. And so it goes. 11 years. Wow. ELEVEN YEARS. Do you people have any idea what a feat it is to make it that long in a relationship in my family of women? It is a challenge and a complete shock. I was more or less the 3year habit girl or so it started out to be. To have a guy around for that long was something we could not fathom. At all.

Dating n' stuff was good. The sex was amazing, far better than my fiance' for sure. I had never, ever been pursued in such a way. I had never in my entire adult life been told to be myself and that they would never try to change me. Wha, huh?

11 years of sorded fun? Times were good and I was flat broke. I brought in maybe 600 bucks a month. This poor girl with nothing to offer but my awesome lovin skills. LMAO! He says I love you and I freak out!! He can't you can't its too soon! No! It had only been two weeks for the love of Mike!

SO here I am. 11 years later, married, bored to death on a Saturday night with stitches in my head.

It takes a special person to make it to my side in 3.2 seconds with a wad of clothes to stop the bleeding. I barely like my own blood. Warm like a bath running like water. Yelling like a true Meximelt. "aaaayyyyiiieee!" At 1a.m.

Four hours later, we're passed out in urgent care, gooey blood coming from the skull. Frozen room, hard but heavenly gurney a bag of peas and my guy. My sleepy hero. Adventures I tell ya.

The vows we took went back and forth and racing in my head. It does whenever there is a crisis with us. "You shall feel no rain", keeps playing over and over in my head. Remembering the wedding, coming home with a migrane and looking at my boring guy watch the news. GOD HE IS SOOOOO BORING! Lol. Not that I regret it. But I just wish it were a little less mundane. Mundane....

In my frustration that is cause by such boredom, I am going back and forth to the east coast to see a friend or friends. This would be the third time in the last year. GOD that town makes me so happy and feel so alive. I would love to live there if I could afford. Just a little co-op situation would be great. But who would be there for me? My lover? My unfriended friend? My dogs? My shoes or purses? Or would it be the hot dog vendor.

SOmetimes I wonder if I married too soon. If I just didn't sew the oats enough. If I am ready for this comittment deal. I do, quite honeslt wish from time to time, perhaps too much, that I were single. Wearing those slightly plunging blouses carrying on dancing with strangers, drinking and living it up. And sometimes I don't feel that I've gotten that out of my system. I want to be single to be free and see my sweet lover. Yes, lover. He is mine without shame. I'm an adulteress. A giant red letter should be placed on my shirts. However, he knows.

I guess my point is to seriously think about whether or not you want to settle down, literally. It is absolute and you have to want and desire such tv watching or baby making and then diaper changing. Yet another regret.

I just can't believe I've been with him for 11 years. Odd but true. I'm assuming I am in for the long haul. Otherwise, he would be the best one that got away. Even though its another Saturday night I get to watch him pass out, snore and go to bed by 9! I know 9. 11 years, wow.