Time for a Fresh One

By Lexi Michaels

Kristen realizes that her days of juggling kids, work, and coffee are becoming lonely. She begins her journey into dating all the wrong guys while searching for her perfect blend. Kristen starts searching at the spa, gym, and bars to find the one. Her life is filled with lust while dating Mr. Not So Right. There are fun dinners and trips with endless dates, including a Rusty Knight, until finally she finds her perfect blend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467870627

Lexi Michaels

Lexi Michaels is from Wexford, a suburb of Pittsburgh. She’s divorced with two teens. Lexi feels blessed to see the world through her children’s eyes. Lexi’s book is a funny journey from divorce to finding true love. She hopes her readers enjoy the book and remember that you have to date a few Mr. Not So Rights before finding your true love.

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© 2011 Lexi Michaels. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 11/22/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4678-7062-7 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-7063-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-7064-1 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011960731

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Lonely Days Keep Brewing

The Spa Eventually Closes

Won’t Work Out

Out and About

Friends Make My Day

Mr. Not So Right

Date and Dump

Stalker in Aisle Nine

Life as the Step-Dad

A Knight in Rusted Armor

Freedom

A Farewell to Me

A Fresh One

Oh, I Do

About the Author

Lonely Days Keep Brewing

It all begins at the end of a twelve-year marriage. Two kids and—wham—it’s over. Divorced! My parents whisper about it, as if it’s an illness. I am labeled—Ms. Kristen Stephens.

I begin to think about my life. Over the past year, I signed my kids up for every sport, every activity, and every outing to the park, the zoo, the mall, the farm, the fair, the game room, and so on. As I sip my coffee, I realize I’ve become the Norm of Chuck E. Cheese. What happened to me? I wonder. I’m the attractive, outgoing, funny, glamour girl who’s thirty-five and looks twenty-five. The cool chick! I laugh, realizing I sound like a personal ad.

I begin to wonder about my future: will my kids go to college, and then I’ll get two cats and a bird? My thoughts remind me: I need another cup of coffee and a man. Quickly I realize: That’s a joke. I live in the suburbs. Everyone’s married or young. I start to think: will there be guys out there? I need advice from the office girls. I definitely need the advice from my Monday morning meeting.

I wake up and start my morning routine. Showering, I think about the advice I’m about to hear at the office. I blow dry my hair and put on my makeup. My DKNY navy pinstripe seems to say sassy yet professional and looks great with my new Jimmy Choo pumps. My next stop is breakfast with my kids. Then I pack their lunches, grab my coffee, and drive to school.

Parking in my office lot, I think, It’s Monday morning. Time for coffee and chat. I walk in, and Linda, my assistant, hands me a cup, and we start with the usual—everyone’s weekend. I give the standard answer, Ditto, since I have nothing new to report. Why waste valuable time? I am here for advice … and suddenly I realize that Monday morning coffee and chat is really just a bitch session. If they have a man, they bitch about him. If they don’t have a man, they bitch about needing one. If they’re married, the bitching is endless. I begin to think, Is everyone unhappy? Do men bitch about us? I came here to find answers, advice, to plan my future. What was I thinking? Was this me when I was married? God, there has to be another way.

I begin to half-think and half-listen. Will I ever meet a man? Are men interested in a woman with kids? How do you date when you’re a single mom? What do you tell your kids? Is it a double standard—okay for dads but forbidden for moms? It’s more than just me. Will he have kids? What will his kids think of me? Okay, I can’t do this. It’s back to two cats and a bird. I give Linda a glace, as if to say, refill on the coffee, please. I take my fresh cup and make an excuse to leave. I smile and say, Ladies, I’m off to my office, as I walk out of the endless bitching about men on Mondays.

At my desk, I begin to wonder if I’m in the wrong business. I’m a consultant at a consulting firm, a family business I’ve worked for longer than I can remember. All day, I listen to everybody’s problems. My job is to solve the problems. Just solve them. Never complain, never get upset, remove all emotions and find the perfect solution. As I take a sip of coffee, I realize, That’s it! I do it all day long for everyone else, so why can’t I do it for myself? I need to look at my situation in a positive way, establish my goals, and just go for it. Less thinking, more action. Action? I haven’t had sex in years! What do I know about action? Oh, I wasn’t talking about sex; I guess I was just thinking about it. A quick giggle to myself and then I refill my coffee and remind myself to focus. When? Where? How? Hmm … easier said than done.

I start thinking about my weekends alone. Always the same—drive forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic both ways, stop at Starbucks for coffee, pick up groceries, clean the house, drop off dry cleaning, and walk the dog. Wait, that’s it! Maybe I’ll meet Mr. Right walking the dog, at the store, running errands, or if I drink my coffee at Starbucks instead of getting it to go. Stay at Starbucks? I never sit anywhere alone. Could I? Should I? Would I? Do I really want two cats and a bird?

Being alone is new to me. I’ve always had a boyfriend. I was the Seinfeld of dating. If there was something I didn’t like about one, the next one was always waiting. My calling card was always filled. We raffled my phonebook off at my bachelorette party, and it paid for the entire weekend. How did I end up alone?

I begin to chuckle as I remember the bachelorette party. South Beach for a wild weekend of partying. My friends and I boarded the plane and were off to South Beach. Ten ladies sending me into the life of marital bliss. After checking into our luxury rooms, we all change into our tiny bikinis and head to the pool. Since we aren’t twenty-five, we put on very little sunscreen and enjoy our margarita lunch. We spend the entire day lying by the pool and sipping margaritas. We decide it’s time to take a nap and get ready for the clubs.

We all head to our rooms. I take a shower and call for my hair appointment and then take a quick nap. The wake-up call comes just as I finally fall asleep. I run to the salon for hair and makeup. I quickly return to my room, select a hot outfit to wear to the clubs, and then head to the lobby to meet the girls.

All the clubs were the same. We were ten wild women flirting with every guy in the place. And let’s not forget who had the naughty pick-up! It’s always the married ones who need to know they still got it.

The next morning, we all laugh, drinking double espressos while heading to the pool to nurse our hangover. The hot sun is too much after the wild night out; we decide to go to Worth for a shopping spree. Thousands of dollars later, we return for our much-needed nap. Finally Liz, my sister, notices we hadn’t eaten a true meal since we arrived. Liz decides to ask, Maybe we should eat dinner?

I respond with, Well, since we didn’t eat yesterday, that might be a good idea! Okay let’s find the trendy hot spot and schedule a reservation. This of course translates into the concierge at the hotel needing to help us find a new, hip spot and make the reservation. As we stop at the desk, I think, I’m sure he’ll gladly agree to send us anywhere just to get us off of his property!

We each dress in one of our great new outfits and meet in the lobby to go to dinner. Looking around, we all smile and remind ourselves to thank the concierge for selecting the perfect spot for dinner. The room is full of young hot men! Just what we want to see on the menu! We order the entire list of appetizers with salads. While we’re eating, I look up and announce, Ladies, who ordered dessert? We all start to laugh and begin introducing ourselves to the dessert boys—the perfect nickname since all of us like to look at the dessert selection, but none of us would ever order one. The dessert boys quickly join us for dinner. After dinner, we invite our dessert boys to join us for an evening of club hopping. Of course they agree to join the party.

We all head off for the trendy clubs we missed the night before. The night is out of control. As I watch my friends, I cannot help but ask myself, Do all of my friends cheat? Afraid of the answer, I just think to myself, I can’t believe this! Sure, this might be the end of the single life for me, but I would never have one last fling! My mind quickly thinks, if we’re this out of control, imagine what the guys are doing! I guess it’s better I don’t know what the guys are doing. I remind myself that I promised to never ask about his bachelor party so that he would never ask about mine! I giggle as I join the girls and sip my drink. Just then, I’m pulled onto a table to dance the night away. The evening soon turns into a blur! Back at the hotel, I remind my friends, Guys, it’s 5:00 in the morning. I need some sleep!

The night just turns into a wild pool party the next day with our new friends. I decide it’s time to remind some of my friends that they’re married! I look at them with a smile and say, Hope your husbands didn’t call last night! As if to say, it’s time to toss out the dessert! At that moment, we all agree never to speak about this weekend again!

The next morning, we all head to the spa to repair the sun damage, lack of sleep, and endless drinks.

Feeling very tried, we all fall fast asleep on the flight home and awaken with big smiles, ready to see our guys. What happens at the beach stays at the beach. The married girls needed us to repeat that often.

I sit at my desk now and laugh at the fun memories of that trip.

Over lunch, I pour a fresh cup and call Liz. Whenever I’m thinking about something funny, I call my sister. I start with the South Beach memories. We laugh and laugh. Of course the first thing we remember is the hot dessert boys! Then we discuss summer vacations we took years ago. We worked to travel. We went to Florida, the Bahamas, California, Hawaii, Barbados, Saint John’s, and New York. We would go, go, go until our mother would call and remind us that we should be at work. She would scream: Kristen and Liz, get to work! That meant at least two months before we could take off again. Liz and I laugh now remembering how self-absorbed we were before having kids. Now we understand the difference between a trip and a vacation. A trip is staying in a small place without your kids’ toys, favorite foods, or friends—meaning you spend thousands of dollars to entertain them while fearing you’ll lose one of them in the massive crowds. A vacation is to relax—just relax. Ah, the memories. On that note, I tell my sister I have to go. Until tomorrow, love you.

After I hang up, I start to think about how different my life has become. I used to work to travel. I stayed at all the hip spots. Money was never an object when it came to having fun. Now I work for family vacations, kids’ fashions, and college funds. How simple life was. I begin to realize how funny life is: we never realize what we have until it’s gone. I would never change my life though. The past was a blast, and the present is wonderful, but the future is unclear! I guess that’s always the scary part. What will my future be? I start thinking about my weekends alone again. Maybe I should start planning my weekends. Do something to get out of the house. Change my routine, find something to pass the time away. Maybe I should join a gym. Join a gym? God—what for? I hate to work out. I don’t have anyone I need to look good for. Wait—that’s it. A day spa. I need to look good and feel good before I meet Mr. Right. I call Linda into my office and yell, Quick! Schedule the appointments. I’m on a mission.

The Spa Eventually Closes

I walk in and put on my robe. While changing, I think: this will be different than my usual visit. I look around at all the customers. I need to meet and interview these people—not for jobs, for men. I will market myself as a nice single mom looking to meet a nice guy. Someone has to know a guy looking to meet a nice girl. Here I’ll find my answers, advice, and maybe Mr. Right.

During my hair appointment, I have three customers to chat with over coffee. Everyone talks about the same things—work, family, and common interests. I always add that I’m a single mom, thinking someone will ask, are you dating? Then they’ll tell me about Mr. Right. Of course this never happens, but I try to keep my hopes up.

Well that’s strike three. Maybe at the nail station. While pouring a fresh cup, I move over to nails. Reminding myself: this is your time to bitch about your life with a girl who’s covered in tattoos and whose favorite response is, That sucks. Okay, forget the nail station. Biker boy need not apply. Oh, you’re doing my toes? I think: Well, today will not be meet Mr. Right day. I remind myself to save this idea for my next visit. Nick, my stylist, walks over and hands me a fresh cup. We sit for a moment and talk. He seems down. I decide to ask if everything’s okay. I have known for months that he’s unhappy in his relationship but have been waiting for the right time to bring it up.

Nick, I was wondering why you’ve been so sad lately. We begin to talk about his troubled relationship.

Nick pauses. I’m in love with Lori, and I want to spend our time together. He shakes his head again and asks, Do you think she’s looking for someone else? I grab his arm and say no. I try to give him helpful things to think about without being judgmental. It’s hard to tell someone that you care about that people don’t change. He loves her, and it’s sad to hear his pain.

I start to explain, "Lori is too young to realize that the best guy she’ll ever know is walking away because she doesn’t want to give up the party life. Trust me, everyone will agree—you want to tell her how we all overlooked that great guy when we were her age, but let’s face it, we didn’t listen either.

Sometimes the right guy comes at the wrong time. It really isn’t you, Nick, it’s Lori. She’s young, and her social calendar is more important. I know it’s hard to hear. In her heart, Lori knows you’re the one, but she’s not ready for her life to change. Your choices are to wait for her to realize how great you are or leave. Hopefully she’ll follow, but usually it’s just over.

Then he asks me, Is that because you did the same thing?

Yes!

Shocked, Nick screams, What?

I was young! He was wonderful, but I wasn’t ready to settle. I hope you’ll be able to let Lori see that you’re the one. I decide we need to change the subject to a lighter note, so I ask Nick to tell me about his weekend plans.

With a sarcastic grin, he starts with, I’m sure Lori will be out when I get home! I tell him to call her and make a late-night dinner date. I add how women like when you spice things up. I give him a naughty grin and tell him to just wait and see what happens. Nick laughs and tells me, I love your idea! I smile.

I start to think how great it must be to be a male stylist who gets to pick the minds of women all day. Do they use the knowledge to help understand or to just play women? Hmm …

As I walk away from my can-you-fix-my-relationship conversation, my cell rings. It’s my girlfriend Jena, who lives to tell the world’s gossip. I tell her I’m at the salon, and she asks who’s there. I answer, The usual crowd.

She laughs. Did you hear anything I should know about?

No good dirt today.

Jena asks again. Are you sure?

I laugh. You would be my first call! Anyway, what’s up?

She starts: Last night, I went out to dinner. Kate’s husband was there with another woman. She laughs. Must be a new tart at the hospital.

I say, Are you sure?

I’m telling you, it was a date! I took pictures on my phone!

I scream, Don’t tell Kate. It will break her heart. Let’s wait and see if Fred is really cheating.

Kristen, Fred was all over her! She giggles. Kate’s perfect world as the doctor’s wife isn’t so perfect!

I stop her. I do not want to hear about Fred’s affair. Stop. Jena loves to share others’ dirt. I can only think about their pain. I say, I’m leaving the salon. I’ll call you later. See you.

I clear my head and think about how relaxing my life at the spa is. I decide I love my life at the spa. It’s a fun escape from my lonely weekends. It’s starting to feel like a second home. I love this, being a pampered princess. Hair first, nails, toes next, waxing, and don’t forget a facial. Erase the age, look and feel young. In my mind, I’m thirty-three, so I’ll spend anything to keep looking that young. There’s always someone to have a cup of coffee with. I share my life with strangers. Odd, isn’t it? You go from Mrs. to Ms. in a heartbeat and wind up sharing your life stories with strangers. Do they feel like a trapped audience, stuck listening to you? Do they pray for a quick blow dry and leave? Is it too much? Am I back to two cats and a bird? More coffee.

When you live at the spa, the staff quickly becomes your extended family. You know everyone who works there or is a regular. The staff is always happy to see you. They have interesting stories to