Someone reminded me of something today.

I don’t think they meant to.  And I don’t think they AT ALL thought the reaction that would take place would be a positive one.  But, either way, I was reminded.

About a year ago, I was Samantha Jones.  Fans of Sex & the City can attest to that.  I was the girl who NEVER tied herself down (fully clothed, anyhow), I was the girl was always out for fun, and I was the girl who was completely secure in her sexuality.  I had it, honey, and I was not afraid to use it.

Being this woman tends to TERRIFY the lesser women.  And they’re out there.

But that was a year ago.  And I’ll admit that, on my 24th birthday, I drove for eight hours for a night of “secret sex” (meaning, the roommate had no idea it was happening).  I was that girl.  And boy howdy, is that fun.

Keep watching the progression of the characters on Sex & the City though, and you’ll notice a trend.  All of the girls take on a bit of Sam’s promiscuity.  They all find their own sexuality.  And Samantha?  Samantha finds a man who makes her want more.  More than the one night.  More than the casual fling.  More.

That’s not to say that Sam is dead within me, or even dormant.  But as it turns out, you can have it all.  May not keep it, may not be permanent, but you can have it.  It’s there for the taking.