Confession

I have wanted to write on my blog more but I always worry about the content. Will people judge me if they really knew what went on inside my head?

Let's face it, I've probably ruined my chances of ever being President of the United States with my "drunk texts" and "drunk voicemails" alone (come on laugh...y'all know you like when you get a VM or text from me that makes no sense).

I kind of had an "ah-ha" moment this week about myself....and I since I am unsure if anyone actually reads what I write on here anyway, I figure this is a safe place to share this eureka moment....I mean, who wants to be President of the United States anyway?

I don't watch romance movies. There I said it.

On a good day I can handle a "rom com" such as "Fever Pitch" but even in that movie the main female character gets pegged in the forehead with a fly baseball. But movies such as "The Vow" or "Water for Elephants"? No flippin' way! Even when MizW and I saw "Hunger Games" last night I said to her, "they ruined a perfectly good thriller with young love"

Want to know the way to my heart? "Jarhead" "Hurt Locker" "Transformers" Bombs, guns, and medical trauma.

I believe my deep dislike of romance movies comes from fear of the unknown.

See, I've never been on an ACTUAL date or as one of my girlfriends calls it "courted" (you know, boy comes to door with flowers, girl comes down the stairs in beautiful dress, boy drives girl to restaurant for dinner, boy PAYS for dinner, boy drives girl home and ask if he can see her again even before she gets out of the car) or experienced romance, unless you count my prom date but he just picked me up and brought me home. Oh, and I once received yellow roses from a group of my male USMC friends for my birthday but I am pretty sure that does not count as romance either...

Just like sky diving or bungee jumping, I want to experience romance, go on a date etc...I want to be open to it. But when I think about letting my heart be vulnerable, I start to hyperventilate and my stomach hurts...like I want to throw up hurt.

I LOVE being a girl, don't get me wrong. I have party dresses and I like to wear them. As every southern girl should, I wear pearls, have monogrammed jewelry, and own a set of Vera Bradley luggage. But being swept of my feet like Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind"? I don't know what that's like and I'd be more comfortable shooting an RPG or experiencing what an exploding grenade is like.

I do know that I want and deserve someone who is not ashamed of his love for me...who would shout it from the roof tops (or twitter/Facebook/what ever is handy) that I am his. He would publicly profess to take care of me, to never hurt me, or leave me....does this sort of thing happen in real life? See why I don't watch romance movies? My imagination is already off and running.

Tonight, I thought about watching "Tuck Everlasting" but I couldn't bring myself to do it, so instead, I'm going to watch a bunch of hockey players beat the crap out of each other in "Miracle."

Until next time....