LA has changed me...

Maybe some of my friends are right. Maybe living here has changed me. I blame the weather for my more revealing outfits and blame Adrianna for my current heel selection, but I should blame myself for being callous as of late. When I least expect it, my heart takes a back seat to my head and my head takes an even further back seat (maybe it's the trunk?) to my loins. For some reason, I've turned into that hormone infused 30-year-old you only read about in fiction or in movies. I'm really on the fast train to Cougartown. Mind you, I'm not sleeping around or even attempting to date much younger men, but I find myself more concerned with attraction than personality lately.

An old friend, who shall remain nameless, has recently come back into my life. I once had a crush on him at a time when I thought sex was something only Mommy's and Daddy's did. Multiple hang outs led to innocent flirting which led me right into his bed. I had fun. WE had fun. But it quickly turned right back to friendship and friendship only. I guess it's for the best but it made me question myself. My looks, my body, my smell, my hair and even my stunning legs (insert canned audience laughter). A few months before that, a similar situation happened with a different friend whom I'd had brewing feelings for all last year. I was finally single and couldn't wait to see him. A bottle of tequila later, we woke realizing that we should've remained friends to begin with. These two incidents were so uncharacteristic of myself that I had begun to realize a change within. I was no longer too afraid to let myself enjoy the moment for fear of it's future repercussions. But when it happens three times, it's time for the batter to go back to the dugout.

Being unemployed + living with the parents + clock ticking hormones can really intoxicate one's self. There was a time when a man couldn't get my attention unless he knew every word to Team America and owned at least three Led Zep albums, Pete Yorn, John Coltrane and any concoction of alt country/indie singer/songwriters. Most had to have some sort of musical talent and a huge passion for dogs. The first time I fell in love, we wrote non-sensible love sonnets to one another and had secret meetings under an oak tree where we read Tao prose aloud while sneaking kisses before the sun set. Now, I'm in my bathing suit on the second date and parading around in my cheer leading uniform just to pass the time.

I never regret any of my actions (except for that sleaze ball radio promo guy from my first year at EMI) and am confident in every step I take, but I can't help feeling a little stuck. Stuck in the middle. Which seems to be the theme of this year. 2009, the "sticky" year. Please tell me I'm not alone. Please tell me there are other girls my age with the same teeter tottering of emotions. And please tell where I can find a man who wants to hang out in this sticky glue.