So this week I had the joy of my annual trip to my OB/GYN. Well, I use the term "annual" loosely, because since I got an IUD (and so I'm not running out of birth control pills), it's really difficult to remember when I'm supposed to go, much less motivate myself to get there. And my doctor changed medical groups, which meant I had to change medical groups to see him, which my insurance took a month to do. But. Annual-ish gynecological exam: Done.

Historically speaking, one of my big must-haves when I'm dating is that it's really important to me to date someone who has their own interests besides The Relationship. I dated a lot of guys who didn't have their own things, so it was a pressure on me because I have a lot of things, you know? I'm all for including my significant other and doing things together whenever possible, but if they've got nothing of their own it can be smothering and pressure-filled not-fun.

I've been in Los Angeles for six years now (yes, counting the years represents a total fail on a New Year's Resolution), and in that time I honestly believe that I have made almost entirely poor romantic decisions. I mean, six years of almost total fail. I didn't listen to friend's good advice when I was too naive to know better. More recently, I listened to friend's bad advice when I knew myself and the situation better.

OK, I realize that I have blogged about my pubic hair. Mind you, I last blogged about *my* pubic hair in 2006, so for all you'all know, I've since embraced the Brazilian, and "The Muff" is now a misnomer. But, OK. My pubic hair; I blogged it. To this day I get solicitous emails from guys I've never met about The Muff. And To A One I think: OMG, were you raised in a barn?

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