I wear rings but stopped wearing my wedding ring. I find myself feeling for it with my thumb and notice that it's missing. If I forget to put my rings on and leave the house I have to go back or I sense something's wrong.

Getting used to not having a wedding ring on is a bit strange, and reminds me of a cheating, lying person. I've been in therapy for years and really kicked up my appointments because I don't want to bring the malicious actions of a person I used to love as baggage into another relationship. And I want to be just as vulnerable....life without vulnerability is a shallow shell of existence.

This is a dating blog and not a divorce blog, so let's get bangin'.

There's a girl that I've had a huge crush on for years. She wears glasses and has that wonderful looking quality I try to find in all my friends.

A reader.

I see her at the end of the bar and sit next to her. She's had a few and we talk about books. She never finishes books, only starts them. That's a new one and I don't know where to take that. She's hot but maybe has attention issues....at least she's trying.

She tells me about her boyfriend. I won't move forward with a woman who's in a relationship...being on the receiving end of that, it's not fair on so many levels for many people.

But we still talk and it looks like they're breaking up soon.

Then she tells me I need to shave my mustache. That was the deal breaker. Take me for who I am.

Two nights later I'm hanging out at a local eatery, using a taco to soak up the vodka running through my system when Charlotte walks in.

"Charlotte," I call across the room. She ignores me. It's past midnight and the place we're at is always loud, full of drunks and partiers.

Then the door doesn't shut, so she kicks it really hard and the owner stands alert. I start to worry.

"Charlotte."

"Charlotte!"

She comes over to my table. "Stop yelling my name."

"Sit your ass down, are you okay?"

"No, I'm angry," she says then her head does the downward drunken nod and I'm sure the room is spinning. She puts her fingers in my food.

"I'm taking you home, get your food to go," I say, "and I'm only staying for one minute to make sure you're okay."

I kept saying, one minute, because if she was going to remember pieces of the night, I want her to remember that nothing happened between us when I got her home.

"I need cigarettes," she kept saying so I brought her to the liquor store and instead of pointing at the blue American Spirits, she hits the cigarette shelf above the cash register and three packs fly onto the counter. She grabs all three and tries to run and I take her arm and pull her back.

"Where's you money?"

She only had a dollar on her, so I put a five on the counter and gave two packs back and took her to her place.

"Shut the door," she said regarding the downstairs door.

"I'm here for one minute, so I'll shut it on the way out."

She's trouble and she's hot. Sexy. Dark hair, dark eyes and lips that need some good lickin'.

In the kitchen I tried to make her drink water and she wouldn't drink it. I asked if she'll be ok and she nodded her head and I left. I believe she has experience in this drunken state, and it makes me feel less bad that my drinking as escalated since my ex left me.

I went to another bar up the street and saw a friend of mine who's a chef at a restaurant. I ordered a glass of wine and a girl from India sat at the bar stool next to me and we started talking. It turned out she was half Chinese and half Black. A tasty cultural recipe of full lips, dark penetrating eyes and slightly crooked teeth that I wanted to run my tongue over.

I didn't think too much more about her as we talked and she found out what I did for a living and we have similar careers, except hers is more on a corporate level so she makes a ton more cash. And we talked books.

"Do you want to go outside and smoke cigarettes and talk about literature," she asked.

I looked at her like she just took all her clothes off and asked if I'd like to do things to her that are illegal in certain states.

I told her my situation and she told me she had a messy break up six months earlier.

Outside we talked, then we went in and had more wine and waited for her chef friend to finally leave since it was after last call. She grabbed my hand and said, "Let's go to the car and smoke some more."

We smoked and talked and her chef friend approached the car to take something out of the back seat.

My heart, my soul slowly wrapped their tentacles around her. My emotions were spiking. I was falling in love. Serious love. Let's move in together love.

She was about five foot ten and slender. One of those women where if the sex needed to get a little rough I could pick her up and throw her against a wall.

I was scared to death of these emotions. It was too early. I had my one night stand, but this was different.

She drove me to my apartment and looked into my eyes in silence.

I took a puff on my cigarette and I never ask a girl to kiss her, but I wanted to set a limit so I said, "I'm going to give you a quick kiss, and then I'm leaving."

She slightly nodded and I went in to touch my lips with her full dark luscious lips and it was a go. Full on make out session. Deep tongue kissing and after about two minutes of mouth love she started jumping around.

"Your cigarette ash," she yelled and I saw it bouncing on the seat and tried to put it out. I completely forgot about the cigarette I had still lit when my hand was on the back of her head.

We got out of the car and she had a hole in her dress. I apologized and felt like such an idiot and she said, "At least I have something to remember you by," which segued into another make out session.

She moaned and kept moving my hands on her breasts and I felt around and even though my testosterone was telling me to take it, to hit this one out of the park, to steal third base and maybe home, my love and emotions got the best of me and we made out for about 45 minutes.

I left without getting or giving her my contact information. I was too scared.

All the next day I couldn't get her out of my head, so I went to the chef's work and said, "Give this to Tania so she has my contact info and can get in touch with me."

It has been a week and I haven't heard a thing. I wish I had sex with her. I wish I played it different. I hope she calls at some point so I can take her on a proper date.