Have Passport, will Travel!

Have Passport, will Travel!

Not many people think of comedic actor, Bill Murray as a wise sage, but I do. He once said “If you have someone you think is the one, take them and travel around the world. Buy a plane ticket for the two of you and travel all over the world, to places that are hard to reach and hard to get out of. And when you land at JFK and you’re still in love with that person, get married.”

For someone like me who has done a great deal of traveling and loves it as much as I do, finding someone to share those experiences with, is a big deal. And the older I get, and the more Wanderlust that settles into my soul, an ideal travel buddy is of utmost importance. If you have never traveled with your significant other, I highly recommend it. I have done several trips, some small, some major with someone I was involved with. My experiences have ranged from slightly stressed, enjoyable, fun and non-eventful.


But to me, the perfect travel buddy is someone who has the same sense of adventure as you. Perhaps you like different cultures and you want to educate your partner about them. Maybe you both love trying new foods, and the idea of Puffer Fish sushi doesn’t scare you as much as it would to the average human. Or maybe waking up at an ungodly hour, just to hike up a Hawaiian peak to watch the most glorious sunrise, is something that you dream of. In a perfect world, you want someone you can fly coach with, or at the very least, join the Mile High Club. I’ve actually always wanted to pack a suitcase, go to the airport with my significant other and buy a ticket right then and there. Destination TBD!

However you choose to travel, the moral of the story is…GO! There is too much to see and do in this world. There are also great destinations in your own state, so explore them. What matters, is taking the time and the pleasurable risk, to step out of your comfort zone and experience new things with someone you care about. You will be surprised what you learn about each other and you will enjoy the memories that you both will share. In the meantime, my suitcase, passport and I are anxiously awaiting the right guy to travel to Bali with. Bonus if you enjoy moonlit swims in the nude!

Why Am I Single?

Why Am I Single?

The second most popular question I am asked after “Why I don’t have kids?” is, “Why am I single?” For the longest time, I use to hate this question. And as much as I want to say that I have grown since the start of this blog, that would be somewhat of a lie. I still hate the question, however, I have a different perspective on it.

“Why am I single?” Before, my first reaction would be immediately to blame all of the men, or lack thereof, around me. I would list about 100 reasons why THEY aren’t the right match for me. How THEY haven’t fit my mold. And how THEY just aren’t around. Then some years passed, a few serious relationships here and there resulted in my new train of thought. And to be honest, I think this applies to not only me, but a lot of you.

“Why am I single?” has nothing to do with THEM and almost everything to do with…ME. Now, the first time I realized this, I flat out denied it. I mean, gurl, you ARE amazing. But you aren’t the persona you show the world. THAT girl goes on dates, is larger than life, can do four shots of tequila in an hour and sing half of the Jay Z catalog. But that girl is also vulnerable, insecure, a dreamer who is also her worst critic and secretly adores the role of the 50’s housewife. (That might be another post for another day)

Old Lady Cupid


In another words, what I show the world is only a part of the complicated woman that makes me…me. Chris Rock did a bit in his “Bigger and Blacker” comedy special where he says, when you go on a date with a woman, you aren’t dating her, you’re dating her representative. And that’s 100% true. Don’t worry guys, the same applies to you. But in my case, you go on a date with me and you are dating my rep, my concierge, my trainer, my guru and my id. You don’t see Desiree. Desiree comes out around month 4 of a relationship, which is a very crucial time. Around the fourth month of seriously dating, experts say, this is the time where couples decide whether this person is worth committing to long term. When you think about that, it really makes sense. You have a honeymoon period, and after that period, the truth starts to come out.

“Why am I single?” because I don’t let a lot of men see my truth. Now I’m not going to come right out and bare my naked soul over our coffee date, but what I WILL do, is let down my guard a bit. I will promise to understand that the Desiree they first see is the hyperbole of a great woman, but isn’t the real me. That would be exhausting. And to be honest, a lot of times, it is. And I will no longer look at that question as one that is cringe inducing, rather I will tackle it with a new approach…keep it simple, sweetheart!

Resolutions vs Promises

Resolutions vs Promises

My first post of 2018 has me doing something that I love…watching football. As with every New Year, people are faced with the task of creating a New Years Resolution. A resolution that in most cases, are broken or cast aside by January 10th. But instead, I like that at this moment I am doing two things that I love, watching football and writing. At the end of the day, I’d rather make a promise versus a resolution. And I want that promise to be sincere and to myself, for me, and no one else.


So here are my promises for 2018:

  • I promise that I will work hard on finding joy in the little things.
  • I promise to eat every carb that I want and do every shot that I desire, and not feel guilty about it.
  • I promise to not be so hard on myself. I mean, you’re trying and that’s all that matters.
  • I promise to remember what the badass Jen Sincero said: “You have to change your thinking first and then the evidence appears, not the other way around.”
  • And finally, I’m not going to promise you a “New Year/New You” that’s a cliche. But I will promise you are going to have some highs and lows, but you are going to make it through, like you always have…like you always will. Because I promise…you’re a bad ass!




Winter, Coffee and Sweatshirts

Winter, Coffee and Sweatshirts

My ex called and asked what I was doing. Ok, I should probably back this story up about a week…or maybe a month. I dated a guy three years ago. And, well, we all have that ONE. The one you can’t shake. It’s kind of like that old college sweatshirt that you swear you will get rid of. But no matter how many times you move or boxes you may store it in, when you need it, or don’t realize you need it, it shows up.

He’s my old college sweatshirt. Or more accurately, my 13 year old sorority formal long sleeve t-shirt. A shirt that proudly use to fit me like a glove, but now, slightly swallows me whole. It has holes in the sleeves, screen printing that is fading and is no longer the bright green it use to be. But I love that sweatshirt and I would never get rid of it, no matter what.

Now I promise, this post has a point. It really has nothing to do with the sweatshirt. Three years after our break up and more than a year from having seen each other last, I find myself wrapped in this comfortable space that I remember and loved so much. So today, my ex called. It’s not the first time and we had a lovely chat. We actually plan on an upcoming visit together.

He starts off the conversation by asking “What are you up to?” And not in the loaded “What are you up to and what panties do you have on?” kind of way. I laugh because what I was doing was truly making me happy. I told him that I was home alone, enjoying the slightly chilly day, wrapped in a blanket, drinking a delicious cup of coffee, binge watching “Sex in the City”. After we laughed at how cliche that was, and he admitted that it did in fact sound like a nice way to spend a day, I began to think to myself, that it really was.


I was enjoying a “Netflix and Chill” type of date….but with myself. And to be honest, I couldn’t have been happier. I was in my favorite pajamas, my big fluffy socks, watching one of my favorite SITN episodes with the yummiest cup of coffee. And in that moment I realized, just how important it is to enjoy a date with just ME.

I mean, I’m a classy chick that could take me out to a nice steak dinner if I wanted to. But I loved my quiet, simple morning. Often we get so caught up in the pressures of dating because we factor in pleasing or coming across pleasing to the other person. But why can’t we do what we enjoy simply for our own pleasure?

I have to confess, it’s a novel idea that even I was unfamiliar with. The beauty of spending quality time with yourself. Doing the things I love, watching what I love, pursuing the passions that I enjoy, all for my OWN pleasure. It isn’t a reminder that I’m alone, or that others are in relationships or even that I may come across as antisocial. It’s a reminder that the things I love, make up who I am, and that is a pretty amazing creature who…bonus….any man would be lucky to have. But, if that man isn’t around in the immediate future, it’s ok.

I have my coffee and tv shows, my wonderful family and amazing friends, my health and my sanity and the passions that make me…me. And for now, at this very moment, that makes me happy.

To Otis

To Otis

As a singer, music means so much more to me than just a song I would sing in a show. Music for me reminds me of a deep love, a bitter hard ache, a past love that still makes my heart smile, a day riding around Hawaii with a great friend, a slow dance under the stars in the rain, a broken heart still healing. Music is the tapestry that makes up real love.

The power of music was brought up yesterday while racking my brain on another topic. A day after my 38 birthday, I was reminded of local Georgia music legend, Otis Redding. While out having drinks, Otis was brought up in conversation. I told my friend, that I was introduced to this song by a gentlemen years ago. To say the gentlemen  was in awe of me was an understatement, and though I was flattered, he was married, and I have a hard line about married men. This lovely man in my past said to me “I would love nothing more than to dance with you to this song.” He was a bright eyed Georgia boy with a fitted UGA hat on, and the song was “These Arms of Mine”. I did give him that dance, and while dancing, I listened deeply to those words


These arms of mine, they are lonely
Lonely and feeling blue
These arms of mine, they are yearning
Yearning from wanting you
And if you would let them hold you
Oh, how grateful I will be
These arms of mine, they are burning
Burning from wanting you
These arms of mine, they are wanting
Wanting to hold you
And if you would let them hold you
Oh how grateful I will be
Every so often I am reminded of that song, that gentlemen and that dance. As I got older, I realized the power music has to transform and inspire, and Otis’ words began to take a new meeting. After drinks I played the song for my friend who was not familiar with it. It was a rainy day and after we got to our destination I thought “I wonder if this is what Otis meant?” In that moment, I wanted to slow dance again to that song, but now with a deeper understanding of the lyrics. The arms that were yearning and burning from wanting that dance.
I had a long drive home and as fate would have it, a middle Georgia radio station was playing back to back Otis Redding songs. On a long lonely stretch of highway, I rolled the windows down and sang my heart out to each one. When I passed Gray, Georgia and saw the small monument to Otis, I looked back at it a smiled. And when I finally made it home, showered and in bed, Otis again began to play in my head. Who knows if I will have another dance like the one I originally had, or if my drinking partner would have taken me up on the dance yesterday, but I fell asleep last night with Otis; wrapped in his melodic arms, and it was some of the best sleep I have ever had.
The Corruption of Youth

The Corruption of Youth

I woke up today at 11:30 am. Blissfully half naked and slightly hungover. And while scrolling through Facebook, I noticed that most of my friends have children who were starting school today. I wondered how they spent the night before the first day of school for their kids. Yours truly spent it corrupting the youth.

I went back to a place where I use to host karaoke. A fabulously fun bar in my hometown which is the perfect little college town. Accompanied by a dear friend who embraces my level of debauchery, we proceed to have a few drinks before karaoke starts. And all he could mutter with a devious smile was “I know you, and I hate you so much right now!” Innocently I asked him what he meant by that comment. “You are about to Corrupt the Youth.” he said, and then listed about 5 different scenarios that  would potentially occur that night. (I am happy to report however, that only 3 of the 5 actually occurred.)

You see, being of a certain amazing age, and having enjoyed my time playing in the Cougar Pond, I realized my new found charm. The Youth are a wonderful group of man boys who simply must, be taught. Well, “trained” would be the more accurate term. There may or may not be a video of me singing AC/DC’s “Shook Me All Night Long” to a young lad whilst sitting on his lap. Afterwards, he and his friends looked at me with a sort of carnal curiosity. And I could not help but smile.

“You’re welcome, youths.” My friend, no longer shocked by anything that I do, looked at me in awe and very little surprise. The point of this little tale, and my current hangover headache, is that I in no way will apologize for being the amazing chocolate goddess that I am. Some people have their thing, their charm, their own appeal and others will find that intimidating. Some will even be jealous of it. But from this point on, I know longer feel the need to explain it or apologize for it. No one was hurt, no one died, the world continued to spin on its axis and little kids went to school today.

So here’s what I want you to do today dear reader…the key to my boldness, my approach of life, my “corruption of the youth” last night is a simple one: do that thing that brings out the inner awesomeness in you. It’s usually something that scares the crap out of you. The scarier, the better. And when you wake up the next day, slightly embarrassed and/or hungover, laugh. And never ever apologize for it!

An Observation of Beach Mom

An Observation of Beach Mom

I live in Panama City, Florida. Home to some of the most gorgeous beaches and playground of regret for college Spring Breakers. With the beach so close to me, I make it a point to go to my sandy backyard at least once a week. But now with school out, my normal less busy beach is home to families on vacation. And with families on vacation, that means kids on the beach, which means an increase in “Beach Moms”.

If you are new to my blog let me state two very important facts. 1) I do NOT have kids. 2) I plan on NEVER having kids. That being said, I do like them (in small doses). And I am a huge fan of my god children, who happen to be pre-teens. I don’t know what it is, but pre-teens love me and I genuinely like them.

For me, a day at the beach involves various beach staples:

  • Chair
  • Umbrella
  • Tunes
  • Sunscreen
  • Snacks
  • Alcohol
  • and backup alcohol

I try to find a nice spot, near the boardwalk, close to the bathrooms and far far away from kids. I do this for the childs protection. “Beach Des” is a loud, fun, bodacious woman who embraces the relaxation that a day on the beach brings. This is the opposite of “Beach Mom”.


I use to look at “Beach Mom” with her kids, 4 large beach bags, strollers, sand pail, snack packs, sunscreen, backup sunscreen and sippy cups with slight annoyance. “Great. Now I need to watch what I say, turn down my Ludacris on Pandora station and not do this shot of Patron while she is next to me.”

“Beach Mom” looked exhausted by the time she made it to the beach with kids, gear and husband in hand. She hasn’t even unpacked her summer arsenal and already, the beach has won. What was supposed to be a relaxing day out in the sun, has turned into day care with sand. The kids are screaming, there is never enough sunscreen, husband is attempting to set up the umbrella whilst wrangling a child and “Beach Mom” has just realized she forgot something that she desperately needs.

Once the entire tribe has unpacked and taken their spot (which is ALWAYS within ear shot of me) “Beach Mom” can finally “relax”. RELAX? Gurlll! I’m exhausted just watching that. And what is her reward? Photos on Instagram to show how much “fun” she had?

Sunday Funday on the beach! #vacation #panamacitybeach #family #blessed

No! NO! “Beach Mom”, you deserve so much more than that. Yesterday I saw one of these lovely creatures and I thought “I shouldn’t be annoyed at her. And I don’t feel sad for her. I want to help her.” I want to cheer her on when she has five minutes of consecutive silence. Or when her husband is far out in the water and she can check out the hot Lifeguard without judgement. I want to crank up the music when Nelly’s “Hot in Herreeee” makes her head nod and reminisce about her college years when she was sans kids. I want to dump that Yeti tumbler of Coke out of her hands a replace it with straight Vodka. And for the super stressed “Beach Mom”, I want to give her a shot of tequila…and maybe a Valium.

The “Beach Mom” and “Beach Dad” (I have seen this in action and it does exist, so shout out to you dudes!) realize that when they see me, they daydream of a beach day with quiet, sun, booze and snoring to the sound of the waves. They perhaps are slightly envious of my high level of relaxation and carefree fuckery. In the words of one of my idols, Lil Kim “If I were you/I would hate me, too”

So to “Beach Moms” everywhere I say to you, don’t forget that you are still a stone cold fox, in a swimsuit on the beach. The beach is meant to be fun and enjoyable and you freakin deserve that TOO! The memories that you make with your family will last a lifetime, so does regret. So go out there with clan in toe and a tumbler full of Margaritas and enjoy the beach. And I promise, if you make camp next to me and I can see that look in your eyes, that look of frustration and defeat, I got your back. This shot of Patron and Outkast song goes out to you!