Monday, February 06, 2012
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Author: michaela renee Created: 6/20/2008 1:39 PM
Series of an online dating addict, teetering on disaster and misc blogs

By michaela renee on 3/27/2009 1:06 PM

Me: I guess I should have known from the moment he insisted upon picking me up. Who does that nowadays anyway?
I asked about 30 people if this was normal, and they all insisted that in fact; there were some old fashioned men, who believed picking a girl up for a first date was critical. He was so insistent upon it that I finally just agreed.

Therapist: That’s not a bad thing per ... Read More »

By michaela renee on 3/4/2009 10:38 PM

Me:  So, here I am floating on a daisy shaped raft in the pool of a friend’s house, chatting with her in that way two people chat when they are both randomly drifting across the water, soaking up the sun, enjoying life and the weather. So naturally, in this relaxed state of self indulgence the topic of my online dating experiences came up. I mentioned to her as I dipped one toe off the edge of the raft into the chilly water and dribbled the sprinkles across my sun stained legs that it is nearly impossible on a first date to really get to know someone without coming across as prying, or being overly anxious to get to the point. The point being, are you and I really going to make beyond the first ‘online’ date? This means I’ve met up with you at an incredibly public place, where the price point of anything & Read More »

By michaela renee on 2/20/2009 11:45 AM

I’ve never been the kind of girl who is the other woman, that is…until now.

 

No lady ever walks into a relationship and says; sign me up to be the one he runs to. When I first learned the truth my natural reaction was to run, but in the moment where I turned on my heel and spun, I asked myself, am I really ‘the other woman’ or am I ‘the woman?’

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By michaela renee on 1/22/2009 8:26 AM

 

What felt like buckets of blood poured out of her body as she clutched her lower abdomen and raced to the bathroom in the early hours of the weekday morning. She spun around before shoving open the bathroom door and saw the trail of black tar behind her. 

The moment she flicked on the bathroom light she became overwhelmed with fear. The pain was torturous, comparable to a knife stabbing her repeatedly and from the looks of her surroundings one might have guessed someone had been slaughtered. She was petrified.
 
She was a fairly young woman, who hadn’t even passed her 30th birthday, but was old enough to have heard similar stories from her mother and aunts, and most certainly some of her closest girlfriends.

<div styl Read More »

By michaela renee on 6/20/2008 7:47 PM

 
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