the big 3-0-0

It’s hard to believe this is my 300th post here — and I have yet to run out of things to stay, stories to share and situations to offer for discussion. What a rewarding journey it’s been to share my perspective and to read your responses!

It goes without saying that I have a few new stories to tell:

First, about one of those four dudes in four days, I wrote: “One of the fellows was more stifled that the others, and I couldn’t figure out whether his obscure interests were a merely result of having worked hard at being different from everyone else or if they had somehow (how?!) evolved more naturally.” He had confessed to being very in to a capella folk music from some obscure region of the southeast and writing historical epic poetry, for example. We texted back and forth a few times and, when he asked me to meet again, I politely replied, “I think I may be too mainstream for you.” Which proves there’s a first time for everything, I guess. He responded in good humor, and confessed to holding back even more geeky details, such as enjoying trips to comic book conventions and the like… My opinion? Going to Comic Con is far more palatable than a capella folk music… just sayin’! Geek can be chic, and I’d be totally in to a geek in moderation.
I recently also wrote about potentially taking a lover. One of my male friends has courageously offered himself for the role; however, I have to decline as he does not meet my very specific criteria. I’m far too likely to develop feelings for him…which isn’t going to work out at this juncture (for reasons on which I’d rather not elaborate).
Regarding my last post about the incredibly arrogant message I received in my inbox (which was, I am grateful to say, is an anomaly), I finally heard from a friend what I think my be the best “zinger” with which to reply: “Funny, that’s exactly what the guy before you wrote.”
Finally, in sharing the story of the previous message at happy hour yesterday, a co-worker pulled up an email from a friend of his. It had been forwarded by said friend to gleefully share the craziness of the woman who’d written it — and I’m sure it was enough to make most men wish they were single and might find themselves in bed with just such a woman. To the best of my recollection (I was asked to read this missive aloud for the group), this woman had written an ode to her sexual experience with this man, commenting on his body hair (wishing to watch as it went from slick against his body after a shower to dry and curly) and on his stomach (which was just round enough to create some distance and made far more interesting noises than her father’s had in her memories of snuggling against it as a girl) and used colorful words like “nuggetry” (which she would like to lick) and “schween” in discussing his privates. Of course I begged my co-worker to send this message to me so that I could share it here…he declined, having made a commitment to not publish it. Which I guess would be anyone’s obvious response to such weirdness… So do you think the friend saw the crazy woman again? Hell yes! What guy wouldn’t want to spend more time with a woman who writes an ode like this to his body? It certainly suggests enthusiasm, if nothing else…I just can’t imagine he’d take her out in public.

So it seems the stories and sharing will continue here. I hope you’ll all come back and check in from time to time!

the narcissist in my inbox

Not gonna lie: since I’ve begun online dating again, my profile is on fire! And, whether it’s what I’ve written in my profile or the cosmic universe juice I’m putting out there, I’m getting a lot of thoughtful, considerate messages from what I’d consider quality men.

This morning, I awoke to find a message that was decidedly not one of those. Read for yourself:

“Hey sweet thing. I just wanted to let you know that that guy who emailed you right after me? He sucks. Really. He doesn’t deserve to get the time of day from a hottie like yourself. Listen, my schedule is super busy but I think you may be worth a shot. If you’re not interested in a sexy, successful man, I’m sure there are plenty of losers like that other guy in your mailbox.”

This was so juicy I had to learn more…but first, I posted the message on Facebook and asked my friends to weigh in on how I ought to respond. And then I had a look at his profile: his self-summary was more of the same attitude, he’s 6’2″, earns between $50 and $60k per year and photos showed a body that I would describe as “too much muscle.” (In other words, I suspect he might benefit from devoting a little more time and energy to developing some intellectual pursuits or depth of character in addition to all that time in the gym.) Oh…and he replies to messages frequently (which kind of contradicts his comment about being “super busy”).

I then checked back in on my friends’ feedback:

Some immediately noticed that he used the words “thing” and “hottie,” which clearly demonstrates that he’s objectifying women.
It was suggested — and I agree it’s likely — that this is a “copy and paste” approach. But it’s difficult for me to imagine that he’s had any success with it so far…
Many suggested I should not reply at all. I am, of course, tempted to shoot back an equally obnoxious “shut down,” perhaps as one friend suggested: “You ARE the loser in my inbox.”
One male suggested I meet him for dinner then, after eating, tell him what a douche / ass he is and leave.
One woman asked if his salary alone was a deal breaker. Um, when you’re calling yourself “super successful”… yes.
Another suggested that he was overcompensating for what would certainly be a disappointing bedroom experience.
Finally, another man suggested I collect donations for recording equipment and capture on video a date with this fellow. Then, it would all be posted to a site where contributors could watch every excruciating moment.

The thing that I noticed first — and yet no one else commented on it — was that he felt it necessary to put others down in order to lift himself up. Even more than “thing,” this was a huge red flag for me, and clearly no one I’d ever consider as “date material” or a promising relationship partner. Of course I also noticed the inherent arrogance in his posturing, especially the bit about being “super successful, super hot,” etc. Truth is, I happen to know several “super successful” people, and there’s not a one of them who is so lacking in humility, appreciation and gratitude for their abundance — which, by the way, vastly exceeds $60k per year.

My final take on the subject? If some woman actually falls for that crap, the two of them clearly deserve each other!

…or perhaps a lover

Yesterday I suggested that I might take a Machiavellian approach to dating to enlist some help for necessary home repairs. Today, I’m considering being a little more forthcoming about my desired exchange. I’m thinking about taking a lover.

Let me explain: I had the kind of week last week that highlighted yet another opportunity for healing and growth — i.e. more baggage. I’ve spotted a pattern and, when it rears its ugly head, I question my readiness to engage in a healthy adult relationship. I think a little more self work would result in a healthier me, my being attractive to healthier potential partners and, ultimately, a healthier relationship.

So perhaps I should focus on my own priorities for a while and, rather than open myself to the prospect of a relationship, simply seek sex…

love and a new back splash

Every so often, I take a moment to ponder whether I should be dating more tactically. By that, I mean, should I date a construction worker or craftsman? Because I might be able to get some stuff done around the house that way…

Alas, I suspect this might begin well, but end in one of those the-cobbler’s-children-have-no-shoes scenarios. Furthermore, I suspect I could feel intellectually stymied in short order.

And, frankly, the whole idea of giving to get is off-putting to me: I’d like to naturally connect with someone who is as crazy about me as I am about him and have a relatively equal exchange of wonderment and gloriousness and sextacy. Which will require someone special, who I have yet to meet. I think.

Don’t get me wrong: I am not above dating someone who is intelligent and articulate and has chosen construction work as a career…I just assume that it’s more likely to work if he owns the company and has a college education. I don’t say that because I’m some sort of elitist princess, but just based on the experiences I’ve had in dating and interacting so far.

However, so far has gotten me nowhere…which brings me back to my question: should I take a more Machiavellian approach and date to get something done? Who knows — love could happen, and so could a new back splash.

who’s on first?

I had a second date with a fellow who called it our first date. Really this is all semantics and I don’t want to belabor the point but, having agreed to meet in person after virtually meeting (online), our first meeting over coffee would generally be considered our first date. Agree? And especially since he brought me a gift and bought my coffee.

He then asked me out on a date date. And it was like a throw back to the fifties or something: He insisted upon picking me up, he brought flowers (a dozen red roses, more on that later), he took me to dinner, then to the theatre and dropped me at home as would a proper teenage boy right out of “Leave It To Beaver.” Besides the flowers, he arrived bearing other gifts — a book and a small trinket.

Let’s rehash this event with a discerning eye:

I’ve already made it clear that I appreciate a man with manners — and it’s definitely okay if he’s a little old-fashioned in some ways, too. So I’m fine with his considering this our first proper date and some of those 1950-ish behaviors that went with it. In fact, it was really nice to be taken out — on what might be considered a special dinner and theatre date.
A gentleman also attends to a woman’s comfort — and, not gonna lie, it was a little weird for me to let him know where I live so soon. I almost let him know I’d meet him at the restaurant, but it’s kind of easy to believe this one’s not harmful in any way. At any rate, a guy might want to consider this in his planning.
A dozen red roses? Really? I can’t help but feel that a) they’re too much of a “love / valentine’s” statement for a first — or second — date and b) they are just sooo unoriginal. I like to think I’m unique, one-of-a-kind, especially in the eyes of a potential romantic interest…so, ideally, he’d go into a shop and say, “I’m meeting a beautiful woman, and I’d like to find something as beautiful and unique as she is…” I suppose that, to some men, this may be akin to asking for directions. Even a few tulips or lilies that could be carelessly dropped into a glass of water would give that effortless impression of confidence and class in a case like this.
Gifts: I am a complete sucker for gifts. I love giving and receiving gifts. For whatever inexplicable reason, this matters to me. And I’ve finally gotten over the need to pretend that it doesn’t. And, no, I don’t think that means I’m materialistic. So I like it that he’s thinking of things to give me to put a smile on my face. I am not put off by this. As a matter of fact, I know a woman who was given a sporty little convertible (the expensive sort, of German make) for her “Trick or Treat” on Halloween by her husband. Over the top? Not at all, as far as I’m concerned. However, rather than point out how difficult it was to find the bauble (by which I was baffled), I’d recommend a man pretend it was easy. I know he was trying to convey that he thought about me and spent actual effort toward that end, but he was kinda trying too hard for such an insignificant trinket.
It was also nice to be told that I looked very pretty — and I positively looked my best. I had a good hair night, my skin was aglow with the sun’s kiss, and I wore a lovely, if conservative, black sheath dress that crept a little short for comfort as we sat next to one another in the theatre. As always, the key is confidence and balance — if one goes on too much about how beautiful / sexy / attractive a woman is, it’s almost as though he’s acknowledging that he thinks she’s way too hot for him. (At least that’s kind of the way it seemed, as though he thought I was out of his league, at least in looks — and that doesn’t reflect well on him.)
At dinner, he used improper fork / knife technique while cutting his entrée. (And, wow!, does that ever make me sound priggish! Please discuss. I would like to know if anyone else is put off by this sort of thing.)
Throughout the entire show, as we sat side-by-side, I caught him looking at my hands, hoping for an opening so that he could take one of them. I would prefer a man feels comfortable enough in himself to reach out naturally and break the touch barrier.
In the end (for reasons unrelated to our date), I was completely exhausted and asked him to take me home immediately following the performance we’d seen. He obliged and walked me to my front door before giving me a sterile good night kiss.
Aside from some of this awkwardness, he has some wonderful qualities, including intelligence, wit, humor and a certain amount of ambition. He is clearly thoughtful and the type who plans ahead.

Will I see him again? Probably, based on what I already acknowledged in my last post. After all, few of the complaints I’ve listed here — and I’m sure I must sound like a complete bitch or princess or something — really matter in the course of a relationship. And that’s what I’m looking for, a relationship (and not a perfect understanding of how I might perceive one’s “second date technique.”) In other words, I won’t judge a book by its cover.

However, I will suggest something more casual for next time, so that I can discern whether there’s some potential while we’re both at ease.

second dates suck

First dates are pretty easy; I feel confident in my ability to keep the small talk going with just about anyone. I went on two dates last weekend and I’ve concluded that second dates suck!

Here’s why:

You’ve covered the basics of conversation and may have to work harder to keep the dialogue flowing smoothly.
I find that men who really want to impress a woman end up feeling more nervous and awkward, and either go completely overboard trying to impress or try to play it cool and come off like an ass.
Breaking the physical touch barrier can be awkward. It’s so easy to think back about how natural it felt to be physically close to my last boyfriend, for example…and it’s easy to forget that there was a time, as we were getting to know one another, during which it didn’t feel natural and we had to invest time building a level of physical comfort. So I’m trying to be my relaxed, friendly, flirtatious self …but…if I don’t feel chemistry with a guy, I’m not going to give off the kind of cues that encourage or welcome his touch. Sometimes it takes time for that sort of ease and desire to grow. Other men take just a little too much charge and aim for the epiglottis with the tongue.

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this. In fact, one of my close friends told me about starting to date her husband: After the first date, she had felt such a connection and promise that she really looked forward to seeing him again. The second date was awkward and uncomfortable (because he was so nervous). She wondered if she’d only imagined all the great potential she’d felt during the first date. Luckily for her, she gave it another chance and, starting with their third date, they really started to get their footing. Now they’ve been married for three years, bought a home together and have a child.

So here’s what it all comes down to: Basically everyone gets a free pass on the second date — at least if the first meeting went well — because you’ve got to get past the weirdness of it and give it a chance. At least that’s my take.

Trust me when I say there’s plenty of weirdness…like the guy I met for coffee and a walk who then asked me out for our “first date” (really our second)…more on that next.

p.s. Don’t you just love the word epiglottis?!

ready to roll

Have you missed me? I’ve been so busy this past week my head is spinning:

Remember that motorcycle in my garage? Well, I’ve tracked down the title, taken it to the shop, got my endorsement, checked in to getting a matching helmet (hello, I gotta look cute doing it!) and more. With any luck, I’ll be ready to roll in a couple of weeks. I mean, I’m all ready to roll…it’s the bike I’m waiting on.
I had two second dates over the weekend. Both were fun and, yet…well, more on that later.

feeling better

I don’t have much time to write, but wanted to provide a quick update: After beginning my week in the fetal position with intense cramping and hot / cold flashes, I’m starting to feel better. My hope is that this little detox program I’m on will have lasting results, and that I won’t have to feel the intensity of PMS symptoms again!

It’s a crazy week at work — I’m not sure how much more I can fit into my head! That said, the rest of the week will surely race by and my weekend is already booked up with plans — including dates.

Found this gem online today. It’s a fun read, and I might have to personalize it and put it to the test with some of these guys.

Check back for updates — I’m sure I’ll be dying to dish!

getting rid of the poison

I wrote in my last post that I felt as though there were a poison inside of me, and some pretty intense and ugly feelings emanate from it for a couple of days each month. I began to notice a major difference in how I was feeling in February of this year — and the symptoms may have begun even earlier.

I’ve had some other challenging health news recently — and I have to admit, I’ve been a little fearful. I’ve heard from girlfriends my age battling breast cancer, following up a double mastectomy with a full hysterectomy to prevent their hormones from creating further havoc. My own mother had a hysterectomy in her thirties and breast cancer in her sixties. I want to see the benefits of the healthy lifestyle I lead. I want health naturally — without knives removing the very body parts that make me a woman.

With all this in mind, I saw my kinesiologist late last week. Sure enough, there is a poison — a toxic heavy metal — in my uterus. I am on an intense 12-day detox to release it from my system.

I have high hopes that, with the release of the toxin, the intensity of my monthly moods will subside, so that I can more steadily cultivate the gratitude and joy that I am able to experience much of the time. Remember, I vowed earlier this year to be love, abundance and sweetness, and I have to admit that it’s sometimes a struggle. Even more so when my hormones seem to work so determinedly against me.

Whatever health effects result from ridding my body of this poison will benefit me enormously, I’m sure. But I’ve already received a tremendous gift as a result of the process. In fact, I’ve experienced this more and more recently: When I am frustrated enough to verbalize as succinctly and clearly as I did about feeling poison spread from my gut, my intuition about my body and emotional healing is increasingly spot on. I described what I felt happening, and what I was feeling was validated. And has been validated more and more consistently in the past several months.

That tells me that I know myself. I know what’s good for me. I know what I need. And it feels wonderful to know I can trust myself more and more all the time.

battle of the bads

Today is the sort of day that keeps me humble, where nothing happens quickly enough (especially traffic) and where I find I have to resist an urge to yell out the window at the kid crossing the street with a hand clutched at his waist to hold up his pants, “Pull up your #%*&^@ pants, you #%$&*#@ idiot!”

So let’s rewind to this morning and see if we can identify where or when this mood began…

At work I had the opportunity to sign up for a health coach. I’m always vaguely curious about this coaching business, so I signed up. Today was my first call. And it went something like this:

I explain my predicament of sudden weight gain despite a mostly organic and healthy diet, and my desire to be more active.

Coach: So you’d like to lose 15 pounds…

Me: Hell, I’d like to drop twice that.

Coach: What are the steps you’re going to take to get there?

Me: I get up, get my children out the door, spend an hour and a half per day in my car, eight hours a day at a sedentary job, rush to pick up my children and make dinner and then collapse from sheer exhaustion. Winning the lotto or being able to bike to work would help — that’s all I got!

Coach: Can you get some activity on your breaks?

Me: What breaks?! Salaried people don’t get breaks. We squeeze as much as humanly possible into the time we spend at our desks — and then still have to take the work home with us.

We continued to dialogue about the possibilities or, from my perspective, the lack thereof and it became more and more clear to me that a) I sound like a broken record and b) I am extremely resistant to taking responsibility for this mess that my mid-section and thighs have become.

Meanwhile, as she probed about how I could re-prioritize and take care of myself, I watched the fit, stay-at-home soccer moms out the window and became more and more emotional. And I realized that a) I still have lingering anger and resentment for the situation in which I find myself, namely cash flow negative, single parenting with extremely little support (time or money) from the children’s father and exhausted, and b) my overwhelm comes from feeling powerless to change my circumstances.

So I am being coached to take baby steps to “take care of myself” from someone who has no idea how pissed off I am that I no longer get at least two professional massages per month, no longer have an hour of yoga per day, and children who won’t eat more vegetables. I am being asked to make choices by someone who has no idea how few there are. I am being told that I can let go — of what?! — the few things that keep me going? Like writing this blog? By now, I am in full-blown tantrum mode. So let’s not stop with where I’m at physically when I can leverage this opportunity to ruminate on my piece-of shit-house, wardrobe, car and more. As you all know by now, it’s — come on and say it with me — all my ex’s fault.

And then, while at the office, I proceed to make a complete liar of myself by eating one of the chocolate cupcakes someone has brought to the office…et cetera, et cetera. And then, on the way home, traffic is beyond terrible and I’m late to pick up my children. And it’s as though there’s a poison growing deep in the pit of my stomach from which all this anger and negativity emanates.

And I realize how far I have yet to go on this journey of healing, how much resentment I have yet to release, that good and evil are having an all-out brawl in my psyche.

And, finally, I am thankful this sort of mood / attitude comes around just once a month and quickly passes, so that I can get back to feeling grateful for my beautiful life and the choices I’ve made to get here.

p.s. So, for the record, I suppose I should express that I’d be perfectly happy to have just one professional massage per month. It’s not like I’m a total princess!