Tag: dating

forget the guys; I’m falling in love with myself!

It turns out that the guy I thought might be a keeper is no longer around. And that kind of surprised me, actually. I was eager to come back from spring break and take things to the next level…like stop meeting or dating other guys, go to bed together, etc… In fact, I hadn’t really written about him nor shared stories about him, because I didn’t want to jinx it.

Here’s what happened:  he broke a date with me via text with only hours to spare. I understand that the situation was out of his control but, even after learning he had to work, he had waited hours to let me know. I expressed that I wished he’d taken a moment to call, as I feel it’s more considerate and compassionate. I never heard a word back from the dude…which pretty much demonstrates that he’s not willing or able to meet my emotional needs. Thing is, I’m not tremendously needy, I’d just like for my feelings to be taken into consideration…so that doesn’t say much for him.

I’ve continued to meet other new men lately, as well, though no one I could call “special” at this point.

  • One seemed very serious and wanted me to be very interested in his work. I wasn’t. I was able to bring out his playful side and I may even give it a second chance (even though he’s a Scorpio).
  • I met another Scorpio who’s an entrepreneur, boyishly charming and irreverent and really fun! Again, not sure this will go anywhere, but I’m enjoying myself for now.
  • There’s the soft-spoken, slow-moving guy in the suburbs…I don’t know what to think about him. He’s good-looking and kind, but might not have a college degree (and, yeah, it kinda matters). I have difficulty keeping the conversation flowing and I’m trying to determine whether it’s simply because he’s shy. Not sure what will come of that…

Even while there are more guys in my inbox, I’m just not that into it…again. I’m not yet experiencing that special something that makes me want to leap, to take a risk… One grows weary after a while. So I’m thinking of taking another break to focus on falling in love with me, on putting my own feelings first, to treating myself like a princess — you know, all that self-work you’re clued into knowing you need based on the feedback you receive from the world (like not meeting anyone you really want to see again).

So if you don’t hear from me in the next few days, I’ll be reading a juicy novel, blowing out my hair, doing yoga, getting a massage, catching up with girlfriends, painting my nails or simply loving my life as it is! I believe self-love attracts love, but I’m gonna spend more time thinking about me than concerning myself with any sort of end game.

Stay tuned; coming up in the new few days, I’ll review my advance copy of Erika Lyremark’s upcoming book, “Think Like a Stripper: Business Lessons to Up Your Confidence, Attract More Clients & Rule Your Market.”

do-gooders need not apply

I suspect this post will be somewhat controversial, so I’m just going to jump in:

There’s something about my online dating profile lately that’s inspired a lot of guys to write me and tell me about the do-gooder work they do, often in some nonprofit field or with some higher purpose or mission. And I mean that’s their introductory pitch, as if it will somehow make them instantly appealing to me.

On one hand, I think this is really great; everyone should have a purpose and feel fulfilled by his or her work. I, for one, can find great satisfaction even in a corporate role because I believe that I can guide others through my leadership and communicate in ways that help improve understanding. In fact, helping others understand complex topics is something I’ve quite naturally done all my life.

On the other hand, I wonder how it is that I’m giving the impression that I’m more likely to want to be with someone who’s dedicated his life to the sort of work that provides higher “cause” rewards than financial ones. To be quite frank — and you may think me a pig because of it — I like a man who wants to provide well for his family, who finds earning well both fulfilling and great fun and who desires to spoil me. I want the guy who says, “My love, you’d look great in that Audi Q5 — how do you feel about taking a test drive?”

I have great respect for the folks who have devoted their lives to causes. However, with a parent working in social services and friends in other types of serving roles, I’ve heard repeatedly that when passions like these become jobs, the stress and bureaucracy often end up outweighing the satisfaction of making what feel like real accomplishments or progress. Many have recommended to me to take the financial rewards that I’ve achieved and contribute (as I already do) through volunteerism and nonprofit contributions. Giving is, in fact, central to my life and a value that I’m sharing with my children.

Maybe my beliefs are outdated, outmoded and behind the times; after all, nonprofits have made great strides in paying better since I’ve first had an eye on them.

So what is the real issue here? I think I’m simply more traditional in how I view roles:  I want an ambitious, smart, hardworking guy who — as I wrote earlier — wants to earn a shit ton of money and provide an abundant lifestyle, so that I can focus on the role of guiding my family’s values, community involvement, volunteerism and giving. I do as best I can in the present, yet I can’t help but think removing the stress of being primary breadwinner would enhance my feeling of empowerment in this regard.

Keep in mind that I’ve supported my family for many years and found that a complete reversal of gender roles felt uncomfortable and unnatural to me. I felt it left little room for me to express my natural femininity or, at the very least, it was difficult for me to switch back and forth between the masculine energy I used at the office and the feminine I wished to express in my home. Meanwhile, I freely acknowledge that there are many masculine ways to contribute beyond the financial.

Ultimately I’ve been going out and meeting these fellows anyway; I certainly wouldn’t rule anyone out using this alone as a filter. At the same time, I’m not consciously trying to attract men with this particular career type. But hey, I try to stay open to the possibilities and if I fall in love, so be it.

Does this wish for a somewhat ambitious man make me a pig? Is it somehow misguided or focusing on the wrong things to wish for a man who gets a kick out of earning? I freely acknowledge that I may be way off base here — and I’d love to hear your perspective.

preparing for my debut

I’m spending spring break in Southern California, enjoying the sunshine and beach while blocking the story I’ll tell this coming Sunday as part of Sunday Night Sex Talks (8pm, Bar Lubitsch, West Hollywood).

Here’s what I’ve blocked out so far:

– grooming

– therapist

– Anthony

– in between

– the Cajun

…

Now, how to tie it all together?

an endless stream of “real winners”

I was reminded again this evening of the fact that I’ve only ever loved one truly decent man…but that’s a story for another day. Before that was an endless stream of what my father would have ironically called “real winners.” I mean, I suppose it’s possible that one of my high school or college boyfriends might have amounted to something. It was too early to tell back then, when I was in a relationship with any of them. Given my track record, I doubt it.

Case in point, my father called earlier, giddy with news. I tried to explain to him that I’d just gotten home from work, was trying to get dinner and had to race off to a sporting event. He was insistent:  I had to Google an ex boyfriend.

With phone to my ear, spatula in hand, jacket half on and half off, I learned that a man I dated more than two decades ago had been arrested for watching porn on his mobile phone while sitting in his car in a parking lot. Apparently, a nearby couple could see what he was watching, so he turned the phone their direction to show them. They promptly called the police, who charged him with lewd behavior, among other things.

Doubled in age, experience and wisdom since the days of spending time in his company, I’m still able to envision him doing exactly as charged:  noticing others noticing him, assuming they were titillated or interested, thinking he was being cute by sharing his guilty pleasure with them. (Why do you think I dumped the guy?!) Ugh…ick. And think of his humiliated wife and children at home!

(Then again, what kind of police state is this where we can’t enjoy porn in the privacy of our own vehicles?! Cue laugh track.)

The thing is, I’m nearly as disgusted with my father, who was so certain I needed to be aware of this pathetic fact about a long-ago boyfriend. My father, it can be said (endearingly, of course) is, himself, a pig. In his defense, he’s been a loving, caring father and a wonderful grandfather. Also in his defense, he doesn’t know any better — he, too, thinks he’s being cute when he flirts and makes suggestive remarks to the young women where he works. What he doesn’t get is that these young women probably go hide in the restroom after he says something like, “that’s okay, if he doesn’t treat you right, I’ll take care of you,” — or maybe they go home and shower. He doesn’t understand that, if they smile and play along, they’re just trying to survive in a hostile environment. He doesn’t understand that his behavior, no matter how innocuous it seems, is harmful. In his defense, he got better briefly, when I first entered the working world and shared with him some of my own workplace challenges.

Still, once sentenced to live out his final earthly chapter in a nursing home, my father could easily become the dirty old man known for patting the asses of the female staff. My maternal grandparents probably once described him as a “real winner,” bless his heart.

It’s no wonder I’ve struggled with my choices in men over the years. But things may be looking up — the latest guy just asked me to accompany him to the opera. I know it’s no testament to character, but I’m going to take it as — at least — a sign of good taste. And by good, I mean better-than-porn-in-a-parked-car good.

ginger discrimination

The other day my chatty chiropractor told me he thought I’d be a great match for Prince Harry.

When I asked him why, he gave two reasons:  first, I’m worthy of being a princess and second, we’re both gingers. I can argue with neither point.

But I felt I must tell him I’ve never been particularly drawn to ginger men. (Nor am I drawn to ginger women, for that matter, aside from that pretty character in Pitch Perfect.) He agreed that red-haired (more accurately orange-haired) men are often not the most appealing, but then opined that Harry is an exception. I agree; never mind the blue blood or age difference…

This conversation sparked further discussion on a topic I’ve been thinking about lately. Why waste my time thinking about such superficial things like hair color or complexion? Well…it seems ginger men often find me attractive. And their feelings of attraction toward me are rarely reciprocated. When one recently found my online dating profile, he seemed ecstatic — and he seemed to think my response would be equally jubilant.

My first reaction? “Ew.”

People like to point out that my anti-ginger bias seems contradictory. After all, I am a redhead. And my own father is a ginger — with the pale skin, every inch of that which has been exposed to the sun covered in freckles…and I am fond of my father. As I age, I also find that my skin is more sensitive and likely to burn in the sun.

Still, I don’t identify as part of this particular group of people with certain hair and skin pigmentation in any way that endears them to me particularly, at least not any more than I suspect dishwater blondes feel camaraderie toward one another based on hair color. In fact (perhaps as a result of several years of childhood torment), I am quick to point out these distinctions:  my hair is auburn, my eyes are dark and my skin tans with exposure to sunlight. I am covered in “angel kisses,” not freckles (and, no, they are not the same thing). I can see no reason for joining in any sort of ginger convention — I tend to choose my tribe based on other like characteristics. The enormous crush I had on the son of my father’s best friend when I was 13 years old notwithstanding, I am simply not attracted to ginger men.

But I’ve often heard that I should keep an open mind and, further, I’ve learned first-hand that some people are just not as photogenic as others. So out with him I went, determined not to make lifetime happiness decisions based on such superficial criteria.

And here’s what I found:  despite his relative financial success, despite his spontaneity, despite his sense of humor, he proved overeager (edging toward stalkerish) and further creeped me out with intimations that I reminded him of female relatives. (After all, I’ve seen my father in his skivvies, and that makes it less — not more — appealing to think of seeing another ginger in the flesh.) In summary:  not attracted.

If all of this reveals me as a sort of superficial bigot, so be it. Perhaps I am.

lasting impressions

People go on and on about the importance of first impressions. No doubt it’s all true. But what of latest, last or final impressions? Doesn’t their discussion merit a moment of attention, as well?

Some of you may recall that, while in bed with the boyfriend I was seeing just over a year ago, he asked me what my first impression of him had been. He insisted I be honest, so I can hardly be blamed for blurting out, “Man boobs.”

Luckily, we were both consumed with laughter and able to get past this awkward incident. So much so that the ending of our relationship was tender, sweet and respectful.

My point? The “final” impression in our relationship was so overwhelmingly positive that I look back on our relationship fondly and, in fact, I can admit to probably romanticizing it. And because we were loving and caring to one another until the end — and at the very end — we have become friends.

Contrast this experience with my more recent dalliance with more-like-it:  I found him interesting – intriguing – from the start. I enjoyed talking with him, flirting with him and spending time with him. Physically, I found him sexy! In the end, though, I felt hurt and disrespected and, as lovely as I imagine it might be to cherish the memories, I find it’s difficult to look back at the experience fondly. At present, I am more likely to roll my eyes and think, “I can’t believe I fell for that!”

Admittedly, I am a pragmatic optimist. I’m sure, one day, I’ll see things differently. My hindsight tends to wear rose-colored glasses, after all.

In fact, I’ve already come to see the silver lining in this… If things had ended sweetly, I might have allowed myself to ponder possibilities. As it happened, closure was — shall we say — “firm.” Ultimately, he did me a favor by making it easy for me to move on.

love me some v-day

I love me some V-day!

Even though I’m currently single (and refused to give that one guy who’s pursuing me my address so that he could deliver a surprise to my house), I am a romantic at heart and simply love the whole notion of an entire day dedicated to the celebration of love! What could be better?

Some folks skeptically call it a Hallmark holiday — and perhaps that’s true. Still, who cares who made it up or why? I love love, and any opportunity to blather on about it is peachy in my mind.

Another friend calls it “the day before the candy goes on sale.” I love that, too!

In my ideal life, I am celebrating with a lover out at one of the most romantic and cozy spots in the city. Perhaps after we’re close / committed, it’s a romantic night in, at home. Or, when the children are gone, a weekend getaway.

At any rate, I don’t care about those things at this moment. I am simply happy being a solo explorer with much love in my life, grateful children (who were surprised with books and chocolate this morning) and knowing I’m on the right path to find the mate who will honor and cherish me.

So tonight my little family will celebrate by sorting the recycling…and maybe grabbing a bite out. Can’t you just feel the romance?!

p.s. Yes, my ex boyfriend has already sent a loving text my way.

what goes unsaid

As I’ve mentioned, my ex boyfriend and I have been a bit chatty lately, occasionally meeting for coffee and such. It’s certainly pleasant to reconnect, but there’s more:  hearing his voice, spending time with him — it does send my imagination to spinning.

Probably he senses this:  after all, he’s a smart man. And so he goes on, telling me of his happy new relationship — the milestones, the shared experiences, how crazy she is for him…

The one thing he’s failed to express is how crazy he is for her.

Do you reckon that’s to spare my feelings? Or for some other reason…?

recap, rehash, update and stuff

Given recent events — for those of you who haven’t read, I didn’t take a recent rejection well or, more accurately, I didn’t take the way the news was presented to me well — I suppose one could ask:  “What the heck did you think was going to happen?”

And I guess I would say:  I thought we might have a fun six months or so. I thought we would communicate well. I was hoping for more playful experimentation and closeness and, in the end, fond farewells. So things didn’t go as I’d hoped, as is often the case, and I didn’t appreciate the behavior. There you have it; I’ve nothing more to say.

Meanwhile, I’ve been seeing and speaking with my ex boyfriend regularly lately. Nothing fishy; we have “business reasons” to be in touch. It warms my heart to see him doing well and, to be honest, I’m developing a bit of a crush on him. It’s easy to remember why I fell for him. (And he also makes a good fantasy/memory, if you know what I mean.)

In other news, a girlfriend recently sent this article, torn out of a magazine, through the mail, god bless her! Really, you should read it — it had me in hysterics (though NSFW). It all started while we were traveling together, schlepping all over Chicago for a site check, when something about Kathy Griffin came on the radio along with the word “vajazzle.” Read the article and you can also add “vajacial” to your vocabulary. I suspect it goes without saying that I haven’t yet had this “Peach Smoothie” treatment and it’s unlikely that I will…but I do find it intriguing. And it strikes me as odd that it cost so much less than a real facial.

Finally, I’ve put my profile back on an online dating…with ambivalence. It’s nice to receive positive attention, and you wouldn’t believe all the college boys asking me if they’re my type! I tell them I like tall, handsome and affluent enough to provide for my children…and most don’t write back after that. I must admit I find this fun — and a little flattering.

Sweet dreams, darlings!