The Girlfriends' Guide to Forty

Intention: noun A thing intended; an aim or plan. Like anything in life, we must set intentions. We set intentions not to sleep in and get up early enough for work. We set intentions to remind ourselves to set the crock-pot on low, so we don't burn dinner. We also set intentions for our self for other things like our health, to take our vitamins and do some routine yoga. Everything in our life is revolved around the intention we put toward it. Today, my intention was to leave the house. I am a teacher by trade, and this year I haven't taken, or been offered a contract. Like many things in life, things we plan just don't go as expected. Having a conversation with a new friend yesterday solidified that. Both of us are newly graduated from Masters programs in our forties and both of us admittedly feel completely lost in our journey's. Although she is a former Yale student, and a current Berkley graduate, the pressure is on to get hired at a top architecture firm

A few years ago, there were several bodies discovered out near a new housing development off 98th street going West toward the desert. Through investigation, one was an apparent drugged out pregnant mother, and the remainder were prostitutes. Although DNA can surface something like drug abuse, and in depth investigations can unearth the women's choice of profession, it did not gather the evidence needed as to who the "South-Side Killer" was. I can't lie to you and say that I thought Ted didn't had some involvement. Or that he himself was more than capable of such things. After being married to him for the short time that I was, he admittedly confessed several things to me about criminal clients, murderers and drug addicts, who would nail people's bodies to trees in the Bosque and cut off the balls of men who owed drug money or leaving a decapitated head in the parking lot of a Walmart. Ted was so confident in himself with his ability to lesson a clients se

Sometimes when you are faced with a decision, it's best to just rip the band aid off in one fail swoop. I had soon discovered that Ted not only cheated by paying for sex, he was cheating with other women, too. He was having affairs with women at the court house, his new personal assistant, and even a judge. There wasn't anyone that he wouldn't stick his dick into. Suddenly any sexual demand from Ted didn't make sense. Shifting from a great sex life of exploration and fun to the realization that I was being played, was a difficult pill to swallow. One key element and something I didn't understand at the time was that his sexual deviancy had nothing to do with me. I was sexy and attentive, loving, attractive. Dressed conservative in the day and fiendish at night. I would do any and everything he asked and enjoyed every minute of it. Still, none of it mattered. His life had become one continuous lying cheating spree. During this time Lucia and I and became clos

The thing about dating in your 40's is that the single people there are to choose from are relationship rejects in one form or another. Yourself included. Why is it such an unrelenting struggle when engaging in the formalities of love?  Don't get me wrong, I am sure there are some prime men and women out there that are decent people, hold down jobs and drive nice cars that make them appear somewhat respectable. But outside of all of those things, there is a reason why they are still single. Have you heard of those stories where the couple brags about sleeping together on their first date and end up getting married anyway? Well, that doesn't really happen and if it does, he's either knocked you up or had a temporary loss of sanity. Then you have the people who are not ready to grow up, starting off super attractive because they are smart and witty and make you laugh. Then when you even show the slightest hint that yeah, you could give them a chance, they either

Imagine that you saved for a year to take that trip to somewhere tropical where the beaches are sandy white and the water is a clear crystal blue. You've prepared yourself mentally and physically by taking swimming lessons and diving lessons and anything you can think of knowing that you will be spending time in the sea. You get there, everything is perfect. You notice that the tide is stronger than you expected. There's seaweed in the water. The beach is swarming with bodies. You. You are there. What are you waiting for? You run out into the sea, feeling that inner small child inside you squeal with delight. You notice the brilliant colors of the sky, and how they are swirling with orange, blue, and white. You think to yourself in that moment that noting else could be more perfect than this, then all of the sudden, a very large wave engulfs you. It pulls you under. You can't grab your bearings, you're unsure which way is up or which is down. In that momen

A man I once dated told me in a brief honest omission (although he was desperately trying to meet and eventually sleep with me) the one thing an educated woman (or any woman) doesn't want to hear. That was that he could get away with pretty much anything, because "girls are dumb." Yes, girls are dumb. But women, we know exactly what we are doing. You see, there is a huge difference between girls and women, and I am not talking about having your first period, or discovering masturbation and then later having sex. I am talking about more impactful life experiences that shoves a girl into womanhood forcing them  (whether they like it or not) to take responsibility for their own lives. Experiences that can happen whether you are thirteen, or thirty. Unfortunately, those moments are usually revolved around lost and stolen innocence. After Lucia had returned home to Los Angels, Art and I went back to the routine as if nothing had happened. We were winning cases together

If you're wondering if Art's "proposition" revolved around sex, you are correct in your assumption. Art had asked if while Lucia was here if I would be interested in having a threesome with the two of them. I knew Art was attracted to me. It was obvious when I drove him to court in a different county and the two of us were alone talking about our personal dreams and aspirations when I noticed a large bulge suddenly form under his Armani slacks. At the time I was a little embarrassed, but I can also admit, a little flattered too. It's fun to know a man thinks you're attractive, and if you have the daring confidence to seduce and lure a man into doing whatever it is you want, simply by using the wiles of your femininity, it can be quite the ego boost. His arousal from the sheer sound of my voice was no exception. Sleeping with him and another woman however, was something I was not willing to do. Art invited Lucia and I both to dinner that night (of

Ted and I didn't talk much after that night. I can imagine he assumed that I knew. I think anyone who witnessed the embrace between Lucia and Ted could see that there was no way in the seven circles of Dante's Inferno hell that the two of them met for the first time a couple of hours before. No. She knew him, and she knew him more than I wanted to admit to myself. Growing up in a small town can remind you some days how sheltered you really are, and that just because everyone waves and smiles at you as you pass each other by on a one lane county road, doesn't mean evil doesn't lurk in their hearts. Ted grew up in New York. His family was very Italian. Until I read anything by Elana Furante, I didn't really understand the ways of Italian men. They are controlling. Often abusive. The way his father treated his mom, I didn't doubt that those behaviors could be a normality for Ted.  I grew up in an environment where if a guy wanted to ask you out, he had to ask

It was nearing six o'clock and I had to rush home to get ready for dinner that evening. But first I stopped by Arthur's to pick up the case files to take to court the next day. Arthur (Art for short) was my friend and boss and couldn't naturally afford an office because his father had cut him off because he was spending his trust fund faster than a blue hair at the local casino. State contracts didn't pay that well, and if he wanted to pay for his lifestyle, me, and Lucia Song, he had to take on state cases on top of his already private cases we were working on. Art was a gracious man. He was about twenty years older than I, and tall, handsome. Fun to talk to (I mostly listened) and had impeccable taste in suits. I couldn't say the same though about the way he lived. His loft was a mess. He didn't even have a shower curtain so needless to say the two he had was full of mold and multi colors of long hair on the floor. I was afraid to use the bathroom upstairs

Her name was Lucia Song. Or what I like to call, the female version of a modern day Robin Hood. Except, she didn't technically rob from the rich and give to the poor, she just accepted cash donations. I had only met Lucia as a favor to a friend. He had met her in a very discreet way that only I knew about. He had a very high profile job working with criminals and derelicts, and I'm not talking the street cred kind. There's another building downtown where people go to work in uniform. Imagine (outside of prison) the only other place that is so intimidating even a lowly legal assistant as myself could get a confession out of someone. "Yes, I am guilty. I assaulted the woman." A place where people occasionally get away with crimes they've committed all because their counsel is friends with the judge. Yes, it does happen . I thought he was joking when he said he flew her out to stay with him for a few days, and at no cost but airfare and mediocre Chinese d

Everyone has that one friend. That one friend that you think you can rely on, and can. That is, until you discover you were written as a fictional character in one of their books. Sure that person in your life was always there for you. Doing nice things, like letting you move into their upper east side loft when you are trying to run away from your past, and your crazy ex boyfriend. You had fun together. Going for sushi, attending book signing parties as their assistant, teaching them proper table etiquette because every time they spoke at the table, they must've forgotten they had just taken a large bite of their meal, and food would literally spill out of their mouth like a happy baby would spit up breast milk after being burped. It wasn't pretty, but the women he fell in love with were. I guess spending so much time with him wasn't just my idea of being a good friend. I wanted him to be happy. Teaching him things like chewing with his mouth closed and not talking w