I admit it. Before I married my husband, a.k.a. “the hubs,” I notoriously fell for wildly inappropriate men based on wildly inappropriate reasons … which explains why I pendulum dated throughout my late teens, 20s and into my early 30s, vacillating from one extreme to the next. From the *sshole bodybuilder to the nerdy Star Wars fanatic to the pothead with money problems to the boy toy with the cool car to the kinky magician who couldn’t commit to … you get the picture.
Yes, we choose who we give our hearts to, but here’s the thing: I wasn’t choosing with my head. I wasn’t even choosing with my heart. I was choosing with my vagina.
My ex was tall, lanky, Hot and funny. One of those life-of-the-party types I’d always wanted to date in college but never did.
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