A Good Writer - A Good Boyfriend?

Sorry for the long span between posts. There are some nasty germs out there this season! I'd love to say I had a sweet angel (of the male variety) bringing me chicken soup and reading me love poems while I lay in bed suffering, but it just didn't happen. However, it came to mind, with this new age of dating, i.e. via Facebook, texting, IM'ing, and other non-verbal highly annoying methods, what do the communication skills say about the communicator? Is the delivery man as good as the delivery? I've been chatting in between sick spells with a new man, we'll call him Hottie. Hottie commands the English language, has excellent grammar, loves to ramble on (beyond 140 characters), and is quite attractive to me from the standpoint of articulation. I just dig bookworm nerdy types. I always have. I don't have sexual fantasies of policemen or firemen. It's the nerds. Bring on the librarian, the professor, the nuclear engineer; and off come my clothes, (in the dreams only, of course!). Anyway, Hottie had me at "Hello" with his use of words like resonate, pejorative, humility, gravitate. And this was his first two emails to me. It's gotten much deeper now, with the onslaught of at least a dozen notes, err, emails, with really complex verbiage; some of which I had to google the definitions. I just can't stand it and have to step away and inhale deeply for a moment when I read them. But, it's been a very long week and we have yet to speak in person. I was sick, now he is sick. Granted, all I want to do is comfort and console his aches and pains. Hell, I'm ready to bear his children. But, when you're older, you must adhere to some decorum, some unwritten law of appropriateness. It's a scary world they say and you just can't go too quickly in this day and age. Somberly, I linger in the shadows, wondering what our first meet will be like. Will he have the same sense of humor and command of language? Maybe he's competent at email but lousy at face to face. Maybe he'll be a drooling driveling idiot in person. Maybe he'll fall on his face in the physical department and no amount of large worldly phrases will console me if that scenario plays out. No, I will take it slow, I will listen intently, attempt to speak coherently in return (even though all I want to do upon our first meeting is jump him and slather him with kisses), and go from there. More to come I can only hope so stay tuned.

Facebook is evil

I read an article posted on a relationship blog informing me there's yet another trend on the horizon, spawned from the loins of Facebook and other social networking sites. The term du jour is "retrosexual". Oh, how I was excited (before reading their definition) that old time dating rituals were on the comeback trail. That men actually entertained the idea of courting a girl, talking to her, getting to know her and leaving the e-toys back on the desk at home. That women could exercise their flirting skills long forgotten in the world of sexting and porno e-pics. Unfortunately, as I kept reading, the term actually came to mean seeking out and rekindling a past relationship (5, 10, 20 years in the past). Through the power of the "friend finder" you would be able to queue up your old flames like cards in a deck. You'd be able to investigate (snoop!) what he's been up to since you two parted via photos and wall postings. You'd slyly notice his status as being "single" and that would create license to pounce, or rather,
"poke" him as its done ala social media. This brought a serious rush of, "Why the fuck would I go back there?" deja vous. I mean, if that relationship was soooo darn good, why did we go our separate ways? Sure, he's got great photos, is having fun on vacation, seems socially and professionally put together and all that. He looks so hot! But, let's not forget, the psychos of this world are not posting their status as "seeking seriously sick relationship", now are they? They don't have photos of me crying after the third date in a row he blew me off for his bar fly friends. Where's that shot, sweetie, of me dressed and dolled up for that romantic dinner? You remember, that was the night you decided you needed your space? Only to call me the next night for a little booty? You know where I'm going with this gals. And if you don't, you deserve to experience it all over again with your new retro FB buddy because it ain't gonna turn out any different for you I'm afraid. No, Facebook is creating a monster here. If you tread in that water again, you're going to waste another month, year or ten of those, casually forgetting your past with him, thinking it's a new day and a fresh slate. Just don't forget how fun it was to pick up those pieces and move forward. Maybe those are the photos we should be posting on our profiles so we don't ever forget.

Potential Mate, Aisle 8!

I'm always looking for ways to meet new guys. I gave up long ago relying on friends or married couples to send me their set-ups. I think it's some odd conspiracy they don't want their friends hooking up with really cool or hot guys that might outshine them. The reason I think this? Well, most of my set-ups have looked to be a cross between the Beaver and Mr. Rogers. Is this the best you've got for Christ's sake? Did I do something to offend you at one time? Well, it's up to us, gals, to find Mr. Nearly Right. I don't particularly care for the bar scene. Bars harbor drunks, period. I am not a religious person so the "singles" outing to the library for crossword puzzle night is not my bag. Health clubs are excellent venues to check out the prospects. I also have had nominal luck of all places in the grocery store. I find more singles go to the "bag it yourself" stores for some reason. I think the marrieds are in such a hurry and time deprived, full service is best for their needs. It's important the time and day that you go. Our local stores offer wine tasting night. That's a great night to meet others with similar interests. If you're really looking to meet someone, don't go to the store when you need to; go to the store with strategy in mind. Diddle and fret over the produce, or better yet, look for the same lost look in the guy and offer up your unsolicited advice. I avoid the meat section, just personal preference. The movie section is a great area, again, to offer up advice or ask for it. Thursday or Saturday evenings seem to offer a plentiful selection of "potentials". Another venue I like is the local BIG CHAIN BOOKSTORE, preferably with a coffee bar in it. There's generally a huge national and international magazine section. Start there and peek around to see what other's are reading nearby. Peruse the aisles of History, Biographies, Hobbies. Be careful of Self-Help for obvious reasons. If you see a "potential", check what titles he's reading. "Becoming a millionaire" is good. "Why do I hate my Mother", not so good. Either way, have fun with it. Carry a working pen and scratch pad. (Punching your number into his phone looks way too desperate.) Or, if you are feeling really good about, offer to buy a cup of coffee and ask him to sit a spell with you.

One at a time, please.

By the time you're my age, you can honestly look back on your relationship history and see some bright spots, right? I mean, I recall the relationships I've experienced; the good, the bad and the ugly, and I can say I learned something about myself from each one. Granted, not all the I learned was happy stuff, either. But, I was fortunate not to suffer grandiose mental duress or physical abuse at the hand of the ones I loved. Or if I did, I was out of there quickly. I am a serial monogamist and proud of it. I was never one to juggle the boys. It just seemed too confusing and tedious. I can barely remember people's names when I meet them on the street. How would it be calling Steve when I meant to call Dave, or Mike, or Matt? I would have been forced to keep cheat cards and a dating calendar. I really feel, if we are serious about sustaining a healthy and rewarding relationship, one at at time is plenty! This way you treat them as you would appreciate being treated and isn't that what it's all about, Aretha? R E S P E C T. Granted, they don't all "get it" but if you don't like how a guy is treating you (by dating multiple gals at once), dump his ass. As the saying goes, "let it fly free. . . and if it should return, it was meant to be," or something to this effect.

What I Really Want to Know. . .

There's a new comedy playing, something with "lying" in the title. It's about people who can hear the truth their companion is thinking but verbalizing something entirely opposite; a lie. For instance, the gal is sitting across from her first date, smiling, winking and saying absolutely pleasant things to her male companion. But he is hearing things like, "oh, he's got a beer gut," and "if he thinks he's getting in my pants tonite, or ever, he better think again." I just love this stuff. I would have enjoyed asking more investigative questions of my speed dates but I feared I'd be breaking some laws in this country or eligible for beheading in others. All with a grain of salt, here is my list of questions for those dudes who one day may turn out to be HIM.


1) Please stand up and let me check you out. Pull up that shirt, would you?
2) I am your Goddess, you will worship me. Do you agree with that statement?
3) Do you mind sleeping in the wet spot? (the right answer is muy importante!)
4) Can you get me a copy of your health papers before our third date?
5) Do you have any issue with boarding schools? (If he has full custody of young children)
6) When I want you to just leave after post-coital cuddling, would you get upset?
7) Can you make me a really good mojito?
8) When my plans are better, say for Saturday night, will you give up yours to accompany me?
9) How do you interpret my statement, "I really don't want you to buy me anything for my birthday."
10.) I make a demand. You fall into line. Not the other way around. Are we clear?

The man buffet. . .

Speed-dating. Over. Fun. Men were coming at me fast, like heat-seeking missiles out of the blood-red sky (think U2 song.) Eighteen in all. Thirty six eyes looking me up and down. Well, except for Jerry who couldn't look anywhere but above my left shoulder. What was that about? The room was romantically darkened. The women were told to take our places and get comfortable because our dates would come to us. We had four minutes. Four minutes to make a great first impression. Four minutes to meet the next relationship partner, or maybe, just maybe, The One (as in, The Last Freakin' One For A Long Long Time.) Well, we got to work. Busy beavers we were, let me tell you! I felt like I was on an episode of the old Dating Game. What do you like to do on Sunday morning? Where was the last stamp on your passport from? Oh, tell me more! Are you a good cook; what's your signature dish? Do you ride a bike? What is a great first date? What's your idea of fun on a Friday night? (see next post for the real questions I'd love to ask!). The list went on. Honestly, the men were awfully talkative and with most I was barely able to get two questions asked before. . . H O N K! That meant it was time to move him out and bring on the new one in waiting. The adventure went on for a little over an hour. The bartender made a mighty fine mojito, my favorite libation. Unfortunately, by the end of the Race to Find Love, the best thing that came into my life that evening was that mojito. I struck out. I didn't find Him. Hell, I didn't even find Almost Him. But, I have not lost faith in the idea of speed dating. And I will try again in December when it rolls into my town again.

When the Postman Rings Once, Run!

I will have more to share tomorrow, but "I'm goin' to the candy store," as they say. Yes, I've succumbed to speed-dating. Having done this before, it is truly an experience not to be missed. Where else can you meet your mailman? Well, I was the lucky one indeed during the last round of Date Around the World (in 4 minutes no less!). Just knowing he had insider knowledge to the private stuff I get in the mail made me run when I realized his identity. He is a cute gentleman but there is just no way in Hell this dude is getting beyond the front porch (where my mailbox is conveniently located.) I'm sorry, but I've had a healthy delivery of stuff from crazy websites that would send my father into cardiac arrest. I've binge-ordered up a load of VS lingerie to dress the entire church choir and then some. Somehow I never cared the anonymous "mailman" would know what was in the box from LA Fantasy. Its not like I would ever know the person. . . until that dreadful night in July I met him. And he met the recipient of "whore toys". No, this train isn't leaving the station I decided and off I slithered, tail between legs, hoping I'd never run into Mr. Postman ever again. Coincidently, he must have felt a similar bad vibe as he changed routes about a week after our fateful meeting.