There Comes A Time. . .

In every woman's life when we realize that that bad boy, no matter how appealing in the short run, will not be appealing in the long run. For me that time is now. I in the past have loved many a rogue. I affectionately call them my "project" men. This was not because they were always working on projects but because they very quickly became projects. Like the darling Victorian house that would be so cute if you only spend your entire life savings and every spare minute fixing it up (a la the money pit). The difference is at least with the house if you work hard enough and long enough you might break even.

As my mood of late has shifted from beautiful but completely impractical shoes to comfy and not so lovely shoes, my taste has also shifted from dangerous to safe men. Since moving to Vegas, I have been hit on by many rogues which the old me would have found completely irresistible. Somehow miraculously, I don't want them anymore or perhaps it is more accurate to say I don't want them enough to deal with the hangover after they are gone. I am still having a little bit of trouble being completely in love with the "safe, stable and mature" options but at least this seems to be a step in the right direction.