What Would Miss Britt Do: on flirting

I hate Monday posts. Do you know why? Because they are written on Sunday night. And it is almost guaranfuckingteed that by Sunday night I will be exhausted from the lengthy Shit To Do list I’ve tackled over the weekend.

(And shut up, that is totally a word.)

Anyway. Monday posts suck ass and Sunday nights filled with brain wracking and blogger guilt. Normally.

But no more!! Because from here on out (or, for at least this week) Mondays are for lazy blogging “What Would Miss Britt Do?” (arg, I think I need different punctuation there…)

ANYWAY. Here’s the deal. I got an email asking for advice. An unsolicited email from a reader who wanted ME to tell HER what to do with her life.

Do you know how long I have been WAITING for this day?! Do you KNOW how many times I have said “if people would just ask me how to live their lives…”?!

And now, I have the chance to fulfill a lifelong dream – and technically I can’t be called a judgemental bitch. Because I was ASKED.

So – before I get to the question and brilliance, just a heads up that if anyone else out there wants me to judge guide or advise them on important matters, email me and I will enlighten you answer the best I can. (I won’t post your real name or email address. Unless you piss me off. Then, all bets are off).

OK, now, the question of the week (doesn’t that sound all official and shit?!):

Hey Britt,

I read your blog daily and miss it terribly on the on the weekends and you basically rock more than anyone else in the entire world. So, it only seems fitting to me that I come to you with my new problem…

I am married, have two kids, blah blah blah, you know the story. Anyways, lately there has been this new person on my mind. I don’t know if this person and I have a “real connection” or if it’s just me wishing that there was something. Today I was talking to him and I wasn’t sure if he was looking at me like I was a complete idiot or if he was gazing into my beautiful eyes wishing he was kissing me (as I was with him)…anyways…what do I do??

And please don’t give me the kind of advice I don’t want to hear like, “leave him alone, your married!” LOL Really though, what do I do??

Hope to hear from you soon,

Pipper

Ohhhh, Pipper. Honey. Trust me.

Been there. Done that. Too ashamed to wear the T-Shirt.

Here’s the thing about marriage – it’s boring as fuck. Sometimes. I mean it’s LIFE – real, daily, tedious, life. And sometimes in life you just don’t get those Oh My God Is He Wanting To Kiss Me Right Now?!?! moments like we seemed to get every damn day when we were 16.

Here’s the thing about flings and crushes and inappropriate romances – they aren’t life. Not real life. I mean, they are definitely a part of life that almost all women experience at one time or another. Some women dance closer to the fire than others (and some dive in head first).

But it’s not REAL life. It’s fun and flirty and makes you feel like a 16 year old kid again – and then it’s over.

But here’s the thing about being a 16 year old girl. Do you remember that? Do you remember the doubt and the uncertainty and yes it was fun but holy shit did you have any CLUE who you were and what you wanted and what you could expect from other people?

Maybe I’m projecting here (surely, obviously, I am) but it’s easy to forget why we chose to get married and “settle down” in the first place. We long for the excitement and the flutters and the anticipation. But we forget about the insecurities and uncertainties and the Walk Of Shame as well as Watching The Phone Because He Is Still Not Calling days.

Holy crap I’m rambling. This debut of my new weekly “thing” is not going well.

ANYway, my point. Shit. Fuck. Surely there was a point here.

Ah yes – it will not turn out the way you imagine. The end result will fall far short of your fantasies, gauranfuckingteed. And flirting is fun – and usually harmless. And I am a ginormous fan of The Flirting. But anything beyond that is just. not. worth it.

So what do you do? Stay away. Spend time with the hubby. And before you know it, you won’t even remember ol’ Hot Lips What’s His Name.

Hope that helps!

Miss Britt

Fuck. I told you. Sunday night – brain mush. Send me your questions EARLY in the week and dear God let’s all hope I have more time to prepare. And think. And like write some coherent shit.

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