Everyone knows I am an extremely busy person, perceivably by choice. I work many jobs, which currently can add up to over 70 hours of work in a week. My free time is rare and it is precious, but I am quite capable of fitting it time for fun. Sometimes I believe I appreciate my personal time more due to its scarcity.
My mother always told me, "If you want something done, ask a busy person to do it." This has proved very true, and I have often been that very individual that people would ask to even more. A busy schedule fosters time management skills. As for me, I know how to rearrange, renegotiate, reschedule or rethink plans so that all is still accomplished in a timely fashion. It becomes a conceptual puzzle, a game for those who dare see it that way. I enjoy the challenge.
Passion drives how I spend my time. I work a lot so I make enough money for the other things I want in life. I will also forsake many things, including sleep, in order to spend time at an event or with a friend or date. Even when I am exhausted, I can draw on my passion to sustain me through something for which I want to be best. There is time to crash afterwards. I feed my relationships with passion and give time and energy freely where deserved.
Tardiness can even be planned for, but the busy person only offers a small allowance for lateness. I had to learn how to accept someone being late for a meeting because people kept doing it! Accepting this fact took time, but now I build it into my schedule. So now, I postpone my annoyance until a courteous amount of time has passed, and then I give myself permission to get anxious or annoyed. There is almost always something I can get done in the time I am waiting for them. I can only control my own actions, but continue to wish people showed respect to each other with punctuality more often. How I wish that I could demand a doctor's note before I would excuse a late date!
No one wants to be waiting by the phone, or sitting alone at the restaurant, hoping their friend or partner really cares to show up for the relationship. I am not a beggar for anyone's time. If I care about you, I will call, I will email, I will show up for you and be all yours for a time. Too often, my friends or my dates have made some plan with me that ends up discarded for something they forgot they had to do or for something "better." I am not going to accept anyone who does not respect my time and keeps me as a low priority. I will always prefer going out on my own to associating with people who cannot be counted on. I deserve a man or a friend who goes out of their way to make time for me.
Thank you to all of you who already give time to those you care about...and for the rest of you, be warned that how you spend your time reveals your priorities. If I am not your priority, then there is no way you will be mine. Let's not waste each other's time. Give the gift of time or honesty; walk away if you cannot honor your time commitments.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Earning The Black-and-Blue Heart Medal
More often than not, dating ends with something other than lasting love. Dating is a dangerous activity, that can lead to many bruised hearts and egos. I have gained some of my most salient dating lessons through messing up a relationship and have also enjoyed a vast array of experiences through intimacy with many people. Many others have already navigated through the dating battlefield to find a life partner or just peace with their singledom. I have lots of great stories and some valuable experience, but I remain in the trenches, expecting to incur many more wounds, until I am thoroughly weathered by love.
There is definitely something idealistic about marrying your first love. Dating is a bitch; who wouldn't want to skip out on all that pain? When you first find love and commit to it fast, you get so many rewards right upfront: growing together through all of life's stages, having an ever-present helping hand when you face a road block, enhancing experiences through simple companionship. Making the choice to marry someone without "shopping around" saves many from falling victim on the battleground. Comparably, arranged marriages achieve partnerships independent of the outcome of dating. The pressure is off to perfect one's mad skills such as the "yawn-move" or the "oops-I dropped-something move."
[note: I do know not all marriages that either started young or were arranged end up lasting, but that also goes for other kinds of marriages, so...]
Not only is it getting harder to be psyched by dating, but acting "properly" on a date gets really old. None of the behaviors seem natural or real. Of course I want to make a good impression, but I want the guy in question to fall in love with me, not some imaginary girl. How I must exasperate my friends who offer advice that I routinely disregard! Since I have dated in very unconventional ways since I began, I have likely picked up more bad habits than good dates. In some ways, high school must serve as a dating boot camp: the hormonally-driven competition inspiring people to be what the opposite sex seemingly wants. It is all about embodying generalizations and manipulating impressions. Somehow I tested out of boot camp, but missed the experience of being broken down and built back up in the image of what is expected of me.
Will I ever know how to date well? Do I even want to get good at it? I want to form a partnership, not just be a serial-dater. Sometimes, my dating record brings me pain to recall, but I am still here, hoping. I think we have to look at lost-love differently. I refuse to wallow in self-pity that I do not have a husband, fiance or even a boyfriend right now. I am hereby awarding myself The Black-And-Blue Heart Medal for being brave enough to continually putting my heart at risk, even after receiving multiple injuries on the battlegrounds of love.
There is definitely something idealistic about marrying your first love. Dating is a bitch; who wouldn't want to skip out on all that pain? When you first find love and commit to it fast, you get so many rewards right upfront: growing together through all of life's stages, having an ever-present helping hand when you face a road block, enhancing experiences through simple companionship. Making the choice to marry someone without "shopping around" saves many from falling victim on the battleground. Comparably, arranged marriages achieve partnerships independent of the outcome of dating. The pressure is off to perfect one's mad skills such as the "yawn-move" or the "oops-I dropped-something move."
[note: I do know not all marriages that either started young or were arranged end up lasting, but that also goes for other kinds of marriages, so...]
Not only is it getting harder to be psyched by dating, but acting "properly" on a date gets really old. None of the behaviors seem natural or real. Of course I want to make a good impression, but I want the guy in question to fall in love with me, not some imaginary girl. How I must exasperate my friends who offer advice that I routinely disregard! Since I have dated in very unconventional ways since I began, I have likely picked up more bad habits than good dates. In some ways, high school must serve as a dating boot camp: the hormonally-driven competition inspiring people to be what the opposite sex seemingly wants. It is all about embodying generalizations and manipulating impressions. Somehow I tested out of boot camp, but missed the experience of being broken down and built back up in the image of what is expected of me.
Will I ever know how to date well? Do I even want to get good at it? I want to form a partnership, not just be a serial-dater. Sometimes, my dating record brings me pain to recall, but I am still here, hoping. I think we have to look at lost-love differently. I refuse to wallow in self-pity that I do not have a husband, fiance or even a boyfriend right now. I am hereby awarding myself The Black-And-Blue Heart Medal for being brave enough to continually putting my heart at risk, even after receiving multiple injuries on the battlegrounds of love.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Rigged Russian Roulette and the Benefits of Bluffing
I typically follow Joseph Campbell's advice to follow my bliss, finding the choice easy when it is between something that excites me and something that bores me. But sometimes there is no happy choice...you can either have a rock or a hard place. To illustrate this unfortunate position, I once drew a picture of an individual on an island that was only big enough to stand on, with deep ocean all around her. Any direction she could go would be just as hard to swim, and staying there would surely end with starvation. One could heed the advice "if you are lost, stay in one place" but then one must believe someone else knows one is lost and has set out to search. The contending choice is to take one's fate into one's own hands by setting off into the unknown sea with nothing but the satisfaction of self-determined action. It feels like a game of Russian Roulette in which all cylinders have a lethal bullet, a cruel surefire suicide.
In no ways is my life at that grim of a crossroads, but recently I had to make a choice between two equally distasteful options. Since this blog is about dating, it is of course about a man. I have reached a point in my life where I know I want to be in a committed relationship that is clearly headed towards marriage and children. I am, as I have said before, ready for love; ready to share my life with someone. Recently, I gave my emotions free reign to develop for another person, gambling that our mutual attraction meant we were about to begin a relationship of this kind. I went "all in" knowing a win would be worth a lot, even temporary bankruptcy. My gamble did not pay off, perhaps my "opponent" had been only bluffing about his potentially winning hand up till now, believing me to have been doing the same, just to build up the pot. However, I bet on a truly winning hand, one the may be truly too good to be believable. Perhaps, I have failed to realize how to protect a strong hand and win more by bluffing, just as one can potentially win big on bluffed nothing. I knew I was no good at poker.
But Russian Roulette is not my game either. Somehow I have ended up playing the emotional version where you get hurt no matter what. This game is rigged. The unsuccess of my potential relationship has left me with no happy option for the present. My feelings have gone the place of no return in what I want from this man, and now rebuffed by him, they lay slack and swollen. A friendship in place of a romance would unavoidably trample all over these dejected feelers of my heart, leaving me no room to heal. However, severing contact with this man, who has been a beautiful friend longer than a potential lover, feels like shooting myself in the foot...handicapping myself in just some other way. I don't want to choose! Why must he make it more difficult by wanting to be friends with me and doubting my feelings could be as strong as I have said?! My love is so rich because I want to have a relationship that explores the extreme reaches of love...I want to embark on this ultimate adventure, but must thoroughly vet my fellow journeyman first.
I made the choice to shoot myself in the foot, knowing that healing from two injuries is better than getting continually reinjured in the same place. It is hard to consciously hurt yourself and another person, even when you know it is in order to heal more completely. It broke my heart to say goodbye, but I am proud that I was adamant to the last...and with a smile still on my face. I loved myself more...I made this decision for me and now I can recoup, refocus, and reenter the unruly game of love.
In no ways is my life at that grim of a crossroads, but recently I had to make a choice between two equally distasteful options. Since this blog is about dating, it is of course about a man. I have reached a point in my life where I know I want to be in a committed relationship that is clearly headed towards marriage and children. I am, as I have said before, ready for love; ready to share my life with someone. Recently, I gave my emotions free reign to develop for another person, gambling that our mutual attraction meant we were about to begin a relationship of this kind. I went "all in" knowing a win would be worth a lot, even temporary bankruptcy. My gamble did not pay off, perhaps my "opponent" had been only bluffing about his potentially winning hand up till now, believing me to have been doing the same, just to build up the pot. However, I bet on a truly winning hand, one the may be truly too good to be believable. Perhaps, I have failed to realize how to protect a strong hand and win more by bluffing, just as one can potentially win big on bluffed nothing. I knew I was no good at poker.
But Russian Roulette is not my game either. Somehow I have ended up playing the emotional version where you get hurt no matter what. This game is rigged. The unsuccess of my potential relationship has left me with no happy option for the present. My feelings have gone the place of no return in what I want from this man, and now rebuffed by him, they lay slack and swollen. A friendship in place of a romance would unavoidably trample all over these dejected feelers of my heart, leaving me no room to heal. However, severing contact with this man, who has been a beautiful friend longer than a potential lover, feels like shooting myself in the foot...handicapping myself in just some other way. I don't want to choose! Why must he make it more difficult by wanting to be friends with me and doubting my feelings could be as strong as I have said?! My love is so rich because I want to have a relationship that explores the extreme reaches of love...I want to embark on this ultimate adventure, but must thoroughly vet my fellow journeyman first.
I made the choice to shoot myself in the foot, knowing that healing from two injuries is better than getting continually reinjured in the same place. It is hard to consciously hurt yourself and another person, even when you know it is in order to heal more completely. It broke my heart to say goodbye, but I am proud that I was adamant to the last...and with a smile still on my face. I loved myself more...I made this decision for me and now I can recoup, refocus, and reenter the unruly game of love.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Beginning to End With Feeling
(The soundtrack for this entry: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxkMlS2nuU8)
The feeling of starting a new relationship is intoxicating. The possibilities of shared experience with someone lift me up and energize me in all my activities. I walk down the street with an extra spring in my step, I smile at more people for no reason, and everyday tasks feel more full of meaning. As the relationship grows the feeling evolves into something else, something more beautiful. I feel like a flower blooming, opening up, stretching my petals out, reveling in the sun and showering the world with my perfume. Love pours out of me for the old man in the wheelchair at the bus stop, for the young tattooed couple at the other table at the coffee shop, and for whatever man who has tapped into my deep well of feeling.
Love comes easily to me, but it comes in a flood. I love before I fall in love, but my love always seems to knock people down and wash them away. No one has ever been able to teach me how to feel less strongly, less intensely. My feelings are so large, unwieldy. When I am angry, I am a ball of fire that I struggle to extinguish before it flies around the room. When I am sad, I am a thunderstorm that threatens to drown me in the downpour, and when I am in love, I am all giving, all present, all invested. I know how that sounds...you are probably itching to counsel me to not let myself be consumed by a relationship, to be more prudent and careful. I have heard it all, and I have learned that I these huge feelings do not swallow me, they expand me: I do not get lost, but I do not know if you will believe me.
I have been lost in love, blind to my own needs, but now I know I am myself when I feel strongly, honestly, and I am true to myself more than you know. Also, I do not expect to be fulfilled by another being any more, as I have realized that I have to love a person who is whole, complete and separate from me. I love myself, my potential for love, the choices I have made. I want to love someone who I have no illusion about. Knights on white horses, please stay away from me, move on to a weaker female who needs to be rescued. But if there is a man out there who is not afraid of such a passionate life-partner, just find the eye of the hurricane. Here amidst my powerful chaos, I am at peace.
When another man gets laid flat by my torrents, you will see me grieve, hard...of course. I feel cut down at the knees. I have to shrink back to normal size, condensing my potential into its cramped container. I feel like the genie in the bottle, once more waiting to be freed. I can not grant wishes, however, but I can wish one furtive wish for myself; I wish with my entire heart that I am lucky enough to live life large again. I am not afraid to do feel the bumps on the road of Life. My arms are wide open for the range of experiences that are possible. Love is my spiritual quest, and I love Life in all its flavors...I believe in Good, and I will live Good throughout all pain.
Thank you, Life, for love, for passion, and yes, even for this pain.
The feeling of starting a new relationship is intoxicating. The possibilities of shared experience with someone lift me up and energize me in all my activities. I walk down the street with an extra spring in my step, I smile at more people for no reason, and everyday tasks feel more full of meaning. As the relationship grows the feeling evolves into something else, something more beautiful. I feel like a flower blooming, opening up, stretching my petals out, reveling in the sun and showering the world with my perfume. Love pours out of me for the old man in the wheelchair at the bus stop, for the young tattooed couple at the other table at the coffee shop, and for whatever man who has tapped into my deep well of feeling.
Love comes easily to me, but it comes in a flood. I love before I fall in love, but my love always seems to knock people down and wash them away. No one has ever been able to teach me how to feel less strongly, less intensely. My feelings are so large, unwieldy. When I am angry, I am a ball of fire that I struggle to extinguish before it flies around the room. When I am sad, I am a thunderstorm that threatens to drown me in the downpour, and when I am in love, I am all giving, all present, all invested. I know how that sounds...you are probably itching to counsel me to not let myself be consumed by a relationship, to be more prudent and careful. I have heard it all, and I have learned that I these huge feelings do not swallow me, they expand me: I do not get lost, but I do not know if you will believe me.
I have been lost in love, blind to my own needs, but now I know I am myself when I feel strongly, honestly, and I am true to myself more than you know. Also, I do not expect to be fulfilled by another being any more, as I have realized that I have to love a person who is whole, complete and separate from me. I love myself, my potential for love, the choices I have made. I want to love someone who I have no illusion about. Knights on white horses, please stay away from me, move on to a weaker female who needs to be rescued. But if there is a man out there who is not afraid of such a passionate life-partner, just find the eye of the hurricane. Here amidst my powerful chaos, I am at peace.
When another man gets laid flat by my torrents, you will see me grieve, hard...of course. I feel cut down at the knees. I have to shrink back to normal size, condensing my potential into its cramped container. I feel like the genie in the bottle, once more waiting to be freed. I can not grant wishes, however, but I can wish one furtive wish for myself; I wish with my entire heart that I am lucky enough to live life large again. I am not afraid to do feel the bumps on the road of Life. My arms are wide open for the range of experiences that are possible. Love is my spiritual quest, and I love Life in all its flavors...I believe in Good, and I will live Good throughout all pain.
Thank you, Life, for love, for passion, and yes, even for this pain.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Meet Play Shove!
I fully admit I let myself get caught up in the Eat Pray Love phenomenon, but I did not read the book. I will eventually, but I do not need it yet. I am, however, listening to Elizabeth Gilbert's new book, Committed, on CD...it was at the library especially for me the day after I saw her speak in Burnsville. I cannot say what other women found in Eat Pray Love that resonated with their personal journeys towards love, but I can attempt to speak about the chords it struck in me.
Being single while wanting a partnership I have never experienced personally is very different from being single after experiencing a marriage that did not work. Elizabeth Gilbert and I are living our own roller-coaster rides, as everyone must, but a good memoir jumps the tracks and sidles up to a wider population than lived its story. Seeking for answers, understanding, and even love belongs to everyone.
My search for love feels like a compulsion. Part of me would be glad to be rid of this desire for that feeling of connection, harmony and passion. I am not at all surprised that there are similarities between infatuation and drug addiction at the neurological level; love is a blissful high! Am I slave to my desire? Drawn on like an addict to her drug? Perhaps this is why monks and other spiritual people attempt to overcome desire...to rise above our human programming. Unfortunately, this is not an appealing approach to me, devoted as I am to fully immersing myself in the human experience. I have to accept my longing to be partnered.
Making the decision to accept is far easier than doing so when finding a partner proves to be so difficult. I loathe the advice from married men and women who are happily or just contently partnered already about how I should go about finding someone. I have never liked preachers. And anyway, who believes that their love story is so prototypical: the test case for everyone to follow? Their unconscious arrogance is as amazing as their {selective memories}.
[A brief message to all my would-be advice givers: Thank you for your love and concern about my happiness. I truly know you mean only good in offering me your wisdom, but if I want it I will ask you, directly. With me, you know when I want something from you, but a blog about my murky love future is not in itself a plea for aid. Instead of telling me where I should go, you are more than welcome to compliment me on the steps I have already taken, the obstacles I have overcome or the lessons I have learned the hard way.]
I know I have not fully wrestled the demons that guard the path to my grown-up love, but I am content with this awareness. Through all of my relationships, and my many almost-relationships, I have changed and learned enough to know that I am not a mess. Self-improvement, such as this, makes me so excited that I want to impart my fresh wisdom to the world! However, no one can teach another through words what must be learned through experience. We all do not live and love in the same way, nor should we want to.
As for me, I would not change a thing about my love journey. I have tried many kinds of love on for size and would not have wanted to miss any one. For those people who are happy to marry their first love, my lessons may act as a small pickaxe weakening the walls of a once-sturdy structure should I choose to espouse what specifically I have learned. I have no desire to crack anyone's happiness, but am shamelessly comfortable with the knowledge that my heartbreaks will make me a stronger and better lover than I could ever have been had I only had one man I loved. So I raise my glass, in a solitary toast, to meeting, playing with and, if need be, shoving away men as I wind my way along this path.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Spy in the Women's Locker Room
Sometimes, I feel like a spy when I enter the women's locker room at the gym. My mission is to look at all the women in every stage of undressing and record with my mental video camera. The two flaws in this fantasy, is that I have no idea why I need to do this mission (but it could be classified) and I have nobody to whom I should report back. So what am I doing?!
Men may think they are unique in checking out “the competition” when they are in the locker room, gym, or bathroom, but I do the same. I cannot speak for all women, but I find other women's bodies fascinating and of course beautiful. As I undress without modesty myself, I find my eyes roaming around constantly. It is as if I have special permission in this place to shamelessly look at women. I would gladly welcome co-ed locker rooms, where we all can ogle each other without censorship! My motive for looking at other women alludes me, but I can say that I do not believe I have competition in mind -envy, perhaps.
There are some things I love about myself and my body, but like everyone, there are things I wish were different sometimes! (The idea of bigger boobs is probably better than the reality, but I reserve the right to drool over big boobs sometimes, god damn it!) But who would not find the many differences in body type so interesting? There are very few places where one can see so much variety with so few clothes obstructing the view. You can often tell what area of a person's body they are concerned with, but I find it interesting how having some weight in choice locations actually suits people better than if they had less. But, if you thought about it, nice boobs are all about attractive fat.
I am reading Sex at Dawn: The prehistoric origins of modern sexuality (Dan Savage had nothing to do with my reading it), and the authors neatly deconstruct the beauty of boobs and buttocks by comparing them. So perhaps there is no such thing as a true boob-man or ass-man...in effect they are the same. I guess that means I can be happy with my nice ass and my un-sagging breasts! I am also lucky that, unlike primates, I can vocally state that I am available to the opposite sex.
The one hint that may indicate I am indeed competitive is that I prefer to be in better shape than the other women around me at the gym. I do not feel this way in life, but at the gym, I like wearing tight pants without being called for a fashion foul because I look good! I cease to be so unique with other fit and attractive women around me (especially if they have better tits). I do not feel guilty about this feeling, because I cannot be the only one who feels this way. I do think it is funny that I do not care about who wears a better dress to a party, but I do care who wears their spandex better!
Am I vain to think this way? The main definitions of 'vain' contain the words 'conceited' and 'futile' implying a false pride that serves no purpose. I am proud of myself and my body; I want to be health, fit, attractive and comfortable. I just like to improve things, even if they are already good (otherwise I grow bored). So working out, building strength, toning muscles are all activities I am doing to make myself better. If I am not proud of my accomplishments will I continue to go to the gym?
How can we bitch about what society is “telling” us we have to look like, when we ultimately do it for ourselves? Seeing a skinny model on TV or in a magazine is just that...seeing a picture. If you take it on yourself to look like her, well go ahead, if you can, but what makes her a better role model for you, than your mother, your sister or your friend? Women's libbers feel free to yell at me, but I refuse to accept women are passive receptors to society's messages on beauty! We make the decisions in our life about what we eat, how we exercise, and how much we spend watching the tube and reading those magazines. In the real world there are plenty of examples of different forms of beauty, but for some reason we do not care about them.
Next time you are at the gym or out for a walk, try to see that every body has its own beauty, but remember also, that healthy (physically and mentally) is the most attractive look!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Pets and Ice Cream
For some reason, I find that I cannot just think of men as men, each one different in his own unique way. I am compelled to compare men to something else, ascribing metaphors to explain my attraction or my indifference. One explanation for why I might do this could be that men are such complicated creatures and I have no idea what I want or need in a partner because of this.
During the times when I am seeing more than one guy, I compare them against each other. This is easier and normally more fair than comparing them to ex-boyfriends because both men are present. Of course, it is hard not to remember what felt good in the past and also what caused the end of a relationship. Comparison is inevitable, so I make no apologies for it, but if you think about it, it ends up being useful for all parties. I have all too often continued to see a man I really was not interested in when I was without two choices. I am able to truly commune with my feelings about each man when I have a choice, so I can treat the men better and avoid dating out of desperation.
Whenever a girlfriend asks me to talk about my choices, weighing pros and cons, as we distill where my attraction is leading me, it is hard for me to find any words. But gut feelings are not always clear either. Often times my body is attracted to one man more than another while my domestic desire points straight to the other. There is no stranger battle than when two parts of yourself turn on each other, leaving to you only watch.
Sometimes, a perfect metaphor settles on to my two suitors, offering me a way to explain the feelings I have towards them. Of course, it is a simplification, but it becomes a tool that can bring peace to my internal landscape. Metaphors are often the only way I can bridge my rational mind and my emotional being, they become a language both sides have in common in their otherwise deadlocked language barrier.
Two men came into my life on the same weekend recently, and the perfect metaphor on their heels. Both men were of a same age, homeowners, content in their jobs, and manly enough in physique to interest me. One began with instant attraction and sexual tension while the other started off with companionable activity and ready laughter.
Mr. Sexy and Mr. Smiley became a puzzle after day one, pulling me in opposite directions. Mr. Sexy seemed unavailable while he stayed in contact and Mr. Smiley seemed too ready to do something for me. How frustrating! I was not happy with either response. Then the metaphor hit me; Mr. Sexy was a cat and Mr. Smiley was a dog! How ironic that they each owned the pet they resembled.
A cat-man is very independent and aloof. You can always tell he likes his space and things to go his way. He is most likely the man that sleeps with a girl and expects her to go home right after, without sleeping over. He is also the man who sends mixed signals, sometimes being very affectionate and then sometimes lashing out unexpectedly. Mr. Sexy did not do all of these things to me of course, but cat-men are too choosy about when they want attention and do not come when called, even with bait!
A dog-man is very social and loyal. You can tell that he likes you because he wants to be with you a lot and is very affectionate. He is the man who brings flowers, or makes you dinner, and always asks for another date before you can wonder if he will. He is the nice guy your mother wants you to marry, who seems stable and sweet. I remember thinking how easy it would be to fall into Mr. Smiley's life when he made me dinner and just be a nice girlfriend again. But soon after, Mr. Smiley became too smothering with his affection and I realized I am not ready for that lifestyle.
So if I clearly do not want a cat-man OR a dog-man boyfriend, what do I actually want? Is there an animal that mimics the kind of love I want to nurture? Perhaps a penguin...devoted mates that share the parenting duties so well? No, there is something too tragic about the penguin. A deer...an independent female being fought over by many bucks? No, there is no romance to that love, nor to time alone after mating. I think I will eventually conclude that I want a human man, but I guess I am waiting for one who knows how to love me as the complicated human woman that I am.
So, I remain single, but joyfully so. Many of my girlfriends are partnered, engaged or married and do not envy me my singledom, but I am having too much fun meeting new people and tasting the many flavors of affection that I couldn't be less interested in getting into a relationship right now. Since Mr. Sexy and Mr. Smiley (both who remain in my life for now, as friends) I have met three new men who attract me, had two lesbians hit on me, and made some awesome new friends dancing salsa and riding public transportation in our underwear! Every person offers me a new sensation never yet felt. I feel as if I am developing a sixth sense for social interaction and I want to try as much as possible. Just like ice cream, there are so many flavors...and there is no way to have a favorite.
Monday, December 6, 2010
All the Single Ladies...should salsa at Loring Kitchen!
Feeling the need to go out and shake things up somewhat, I decided I had to to go out this weekend. The snow slow-down on Friday banished all interest I may have had about going out that night, so Saturday seemed perfect. I had a prime parking spot on the right side of the snow-emergency parking rules, so therefore, did not want to move my car. When I mused over my options, I remembered that my hot tub conversation partner from the gym last week mentioned a free salsa dancing night on Saturdays at a place near my new apartment. Using Google Maps, I determined it was only 8 blocks away. I was sold.
I quickly donned a combination of warm and dance-capable clothes, threw some strappy heels into my purse, and headed out into the snow. The leggings under my skirt did not really keep me warm without pants over them, but I persevered anyway, reminding myself that I grew up with this weather! I trod happily along, not knowing what to expect, but confident that this adventure would be fun. It is sometimes surprising that I am the same person who sometimes cannot decide with which foot to start walking! My nerves were steely, is that how one might describe nerves?
I crossed over the Nicollet Avenue bridge that spans across I-94 with excitement; I can walk to downtown so easily now! This was a momentous crossing, my virgin voyage. My joy was fleeting, as my mind does not dwell on anything, even happy thoughts. My thoughts hopped around madly from such things as how easy it would be for someone to climb over the fence and jump to their death on the highway to how like a child one moves when all swaddled in winter garments. My skirt felt like a costume, marking me a hipster who wear skirts in bitter cold because looks are more important than warmth? With my knew high boots, which are conveniently practical and trendy, I looked almost badass, in an army-boot-chic sort of way. I delude myself, I am simply incapable of badassitude!
For a moment I thought I turned on the wrong street, as apartment buildings lined the street and no flashy lights signaled a salsa place that I could see. But pushing along further, I suddenly spied the place...it's side entrance having been obscured by one of the apartment places. My feet slowed for a beat, because this almost looked too fancy for me, what a surprise. I think it was my certainty that the man from the gym would be here, welcoming me with a smile and an instantaneous lesson in salsa technique that kept my feet moving inside. Once through the door, my poise returned.
But certainty is a funny thing...it always get's the last laugh with me. I believe people much too easily! He was not there, and I did not see him for the entire night. After changing into my shoes and taking up a graceful pose by the side of the dance floor, I began to surrender to the music, and the night. While I sipped my first glass of wine, I continued to care about finding the man and dancing with him first, to gain some experiential confidence. Before long, however, I was approached by a man, who swooped in on me as if I were a juicy field mouse and he, a hungry owl. How unexpected and delightful! This was no high school dance.
Going out alone has only a few downfalls I have found. The most despicable is the matter of the unattended drink. It is a definite NO-NO to leave your drink unattended as a single female. The small chance that there is a scheming man ready to drug your drink and slyly make excuses for carrying you out like a sack of potatoes deters most young ladies from taking such a risk. Consequently, when drinking for one, each drink becomes a commitment...until it is finished you are wed to that glass or plastic cup. At a salsa dance, a wedding ring would not deter a partner from asking for a dance, but a wine glass in hand caused me to have to turn down 5 men! Next time I am going to do shots!
(I was able to hang my coat on a hook that held no allegiance to a certain table, shove my boots under an unused stool, and even find a sort of cool place to hide my purse while I danced...on a chair at the bottom of a stack of chairs near the floor. I felt the place was dark enough to obscure it, but still think, next time I will stick everything in my coat pockets. It felt very freeing to walk around with just my wine glass.)
Sadly, as I result of my two glasses of liquid courage (which definitely helped, but were not not needed), I dance with only three men in all, after receiving at least 8 invitations, a constant stream. I was content with that. I covered the gamut of partners and feel sure of my imminent return. My first partner, a middle-aged man with a little girth about him, thought he was a better leader than he really was. We danced for a bit with out much issues, as he guided me through the basics. Then he tried to tell me a new step, with words that did not match how he led me and I struggled to comply...he coaxed me with words and more words, until I had to tune him out and pretend he was leading me better. I figure it out eventually, but he was hard to follow even then...could it be the girth?
My second partner was a younger, thinner man, who exuded a sense of boyish propriety. When I told him I had very little experience he assumed the role of teacher and tried to tell me the basics I knew already. Then he led me through only very basic steps, changing in up only slightly. Our dance helped me to loosen up some, but I felt was banal overall, lacking soul. It was a very proper dance, exactly what I would expect from such a man. I have heard that you can really get to know a man by the way he dances, and now I am starting to believe it. What would someone say about me after I danced with them? I shall have to put out a survey. I saw this guy later dancing with someone else, and this dance seemed to have more energy and fun, but I could still a stiffness to his sensuality that spoke volumes about him. I just wish he could have set the bar a little higher for me...why not see how far I was able to go?
I took a little food break partly so I could finish this glass of wine without interruption, partly so I could interact more with a particular bartender. Some serving people put just a little extra effort in order to personalize your interaction with them, and it makes all the difference: a smile, eye contact or a slightly unique way of asking the generic questions. It is hard to say if he was doing his job well or flirting with me or doing his job well by flirting with me, but I wanted to interact more. So I ordered some food, and while I did, I noticed he had some words tattooed on his forearm. Unconsciously, I must have felt a reason to ask about it, for I suddenly did. He told me they were the lyrics of a Leonard Cohen song!! I almost thought I heard him wrong for I absolutely love the 76-year-old singer! I have completely forgotten the song, and did not read the lyrics, but some time when it is not busy, I will return to ask this bartender what compelled him to permanently mark himself with the words of my darling Leonard!
As I was reaching for my coat to leave, feeling no further inclination to dance, a tall, dark and handsome man asked me if I wanted to dance. I did not need much cajoling, but a little was fun to wait for...and I was convinced! He seemed a little buzzed, just to the point of careless boldness. He scoffed at my admission of being a beginner, unconcerned. We started to dance and instantly I was changed into a sassier self! He led me with precision, joyously challenging me to have fun above all else. We laughed out loud as we danced and I fell in love with salsa right then. Our dance felt like a true partnership, a true meeting of two people who both had value. I was not a simple-minded follower or a a prop for show in this dance. We did not get everything right all the time, but we laughed about that. He was not always paying attention to the other dancers around us, so I sometimes bumped into them on a turn, but I did not pause to apologize for him...the dance had caught me and it is likely we will dance again...if he remembers me without his beer-goggles.
What a gem of a place to find so close to home...it is a one-stop shop for flirting, dancing, wining and dining...I have found my match!
I quickly donned a combination of warm and dance-capable clothes, threw some strappy heels into my purse, and headed out into the snow. The leggings under my skirt did not really keep me warm without pants over them, but I persevered anyway, reminding myself that I grew up with this weather! I trod happily along, not knowing what to expect, but confident that this adventure would be fun. It is sometimes surprising that I am the same person who sometimes cannot decide with which foot to start walking! My nerves were steely, is that how one might describe nerves?
I crossed over the Nicollet Avenue bridge that spans across I-94 with excitement; I can walk to downtown so easily now! This was a momentous crossing, my virgin voyage. My joy was fleeting, as my mind does not dwell on anything, even happy thoughts. My thoughts hopped around madly from such things as how easy it would be for someone to climb over the fence and jump to their death on the highway to how like a child one moves when all swaddled in winter garments. My skirt felt like a costume, marking me a hipster who wear skirts in bitter cold because looks are more important than warmth? With my knew high boots, which are conveniently practical and trendy, I looked almost badass, in an army-boot-chic sort of way. I delude myself, I am simply incapable of badassitude!
For a moment I thought I turned on the wrong street, as apartment buildings lined the street and no flashy lights signaled a salsa place that I could see. But pushing along further, I suddenly spied the place...it's side entrance having been obscured by one of the apartment places. My feet slowed for a beat, because this almost looked too fancy for me, what a surprise. I think it was my certainty that the man from the gym would be here, welcoming me with a smile and an instantaneous lesson in salsa technique that kept my feet moving inside. Once through the door, my poise returned.
But certainty is a funny thing...it always get's the last laugh with me. I believe people much too easily! He was not there, and I did not see him for the entire night. After changing into my shoes and taking up a graceful pose by the side of the dance floor, I began to surrender to the music, and the night. While I sipped my first glass of wine, I continued to care about finding the man and dancing with him first, to gain some experiential confidence. Before long, however, I was approached by a man, who swooped in on me as if I were a juicy field mouse and he, a hungry owl. How unexpected and delightful! This was no high school dance.
Going out alone has only a few downfalls I have found. The most despicable is the matter of the unattended drink. It is a definite NO-NO to leave your drink unattended as a single female. The small chance that there is a scheming man ready to drug your drink and slyly make excuses for carrying you out like a sack of potatoes deters most young ladies from taking such a risk. Consequently, when drinking for one, each drink becomes a commitment...until it is finished you are wed to that glass or plastic cup. At a salsa dance, a wedding ring would not deter a partner from asking for a dance, but a wine glass in hand caused me to have to turn down 5 men! Next time I am going to do shots!
(I was able to hang my coat on a hook that held no allegiance to a certain table, shove my boots under an unused stool, and even find a sort of cool place to hide my purse while I danced...on a chair at the bottom of a stack of chairs near the floor. I felt the place was dark enough to obscure it, but still think, next time I will stick everything in my coat pockets. It felt very freeing to walk around with just my wine glass.)
Sadly, as I result of my two glasses of liquid courage (which definitely helped, but were not not needed), I dance with only three men in all, after receiving at least 8 invitations, a constant stream. I was content with that. I covered the gamut of partners and feel sure of my imminent return. My first partner, a middle-aged man with a little girth about him, thought he was a better leader than he really was. We danced for a bit with out much issues, as he guided me through the basics. Then he tried to tell me a new step, with words that did not match how he led me and I struggled to comply...he coaxed me with words and more words, until I had to tune him out and pretend he was leading me better. I figure it out eventually, but he was hard to follow even then...could it be the girth?
My second partner was a younger, thinner man, who exuded a sense of boyish propriety. When I told him I had very little experience he assumed the role of teacher and tried to tell me the basics I knew already. Then he led me through only very basic steps, changing in up only slightly. Our dance helped me to loosen up some, but I felt was banal overall, lacking soul. It was a very proper dance, exactly what I would expect from such a man. I have heard that you can really get to know a man by the way he dances, and now I am starting to believe it. What would someone say about me after I danced with them? I shall have to put out a survey. I saw this guy later dancing with someone else, and this dance seemed to have more energy and fun, but I could still a stiffness to his sensuality that spoke volumes about him. I just wish he could have set the bar a little higher for me...why not see how far I was able to go?
I took a little food break partly so I could finish this glass of wine without interruption, partly so I could interact more with a particular bartender. Some serving people put just a little extra effort in order to personalize your interaction with them, and it makes all the difference: a smile, eye contact or a slightly unique way of asking the generic questions. It is hard to say if he was doing his job well or flirting with me or doing his job well by flirting with me, but I wanted to interact more. So I ordered some food, and while I did, I noticed he had some words tattooed on his forearm. Unconsciously, I must have felt a reason to ask about it, for I suddenly did. He told me they were the lyrics of a Leonard Cohen song!! I almost thought I heard him wrong for I absolutely love the 76-year-old singer! I have completely forgotten the song, and did not read the lyrics, but some time when it is not busy, I will return to ask this bartender what compelled him to permanently mark himself with the words of my darling Leonard!
As I was reaching for my coat to leave, feeling no further inclination to dance, a tall, dark and handsome man asked me if I wanted to dance. I did not need much cajoling, but a little was fun to wait for...and I was convinced! He seemed a little buzzed, just to the point of careless boldness. He scoffed at my admission of being a beginner, unconcerned. We started to dance and instantly I was changed into a sassier self! He led me with precision, joyously challenging me to have fun above all else. We laughed out loud as we danced and I fell in love with salsa right then. Our dance felt like a true partnership, a true meeting of two people who both had value. I was not a simple-minded follower or a a prop for show in this dance. We did not get everything right all the time, but we laughed about that. He was not always paying attention to the other dancers around us, so I sometimes bumped into them on a turn, but I did not pause to apologize for him...the dance had caught me and it is likely we will dance again...if he remembers me without his beer-goggles.
What a gem of a place to find so close to home...it is a one-stop shop for flirting, dancing, wining and dining...I have found my match!
Friday, December 3, 2010
"Singling" in a Winter Wonderland
Minneapolis is being dusted with snow tonight, which I hope appeases my snow-loving friends. Snow really is beautiful and magical, but making a twenty minute commute turn into 100 minutes is not my idea of tranquility. After finally making it ho,e and wrestling with mailbox, I headed out in the downy night for a peaceful cup of hot cocoa at the Spyhouse Coffeehouse.
Sitting in a dark corner I was able to observe many patrons easily. As I watched some of my treasured Korean dramas I also noted that I have migrated to an area where there are more young people (and by that I mean, young MEN!). My new neighborhood is more fitting for me, a single gal still figuring her way in the world. I lived among too many families back near Powderhorn...all the men at nearby coffeeshops wore gold rings...and I am not about to hit on an attached man! I will have to work on my flirtation skills as well as my ability to engage in conversation with strangers.
Last night, I swam at the end of my workout at the gym. The hot tub, whirlypool-thingamabob seemed like a nice conclusion for my muscles. Two men were in the tub already and engaged in conversation about swimming. I got in, conscious of the fact that I had not shaved my legs but not caring if they judged me for it. I tried to create a private space around me, for no reasonable reason, and tried to pretend the water was as hot as it should be.
The older of the two men soon rose to get into the pool for his swim, and I stretched out a bit further, hoping the water would get warmer through sheer patience. The younger man across from me saw right through my invisible barrier and started a conversation. Personal boundaries are amazingly hard shells for something you cannot see!! As soon as he spoke, I felt the shell crack and fall away, revealing a soft and gooey me inside. Conversation oozed out of me and all semblance of aloofness shattered. My attitude completely changed so I became immediately approachable...but, only after I was approached. Hmmm...
We spoke for a long time, of dance, work, dance, travel and dance. He is a ballroom dance instructor and wanted me to visit the studio sometime. He is clearly the person that I have not yet learned to be...completely unabashedly affable. I haven"t master the unabashed part. Two things I took away from the conversation: one-he told me how I spoke reminded him of dance...it was easy, flowing; two-he commented that a person may look like they do not want to talk, but perhaps they are like me, and just need someone else to make the first move.
I vow, today, to practice talking to people more often at the gym, at the coffeeshop and anywhere I can. In fact, I did this already! As I wrested with a screwdriver and my mailbox (there being no key to it yet) two men came out of the apartment closest to me. I asked them if they knew how to break into a mailbox. With some hesitation, they gallantly came to my rescue and one of them in under 5 seconds had the mailbox open and my mail was in my hand! I opened the door for interaction and literally had another door opened for me! I think I am learning my lesson - this WORKS!
Sitting in a dark corner I was able to observe many patrons easily. As I watched some of my treasured Korean dramas I also noted that I have migrated to an area where there are more young people (and by that I mean, young MEN!). My new neighborhood is more fitting for me, a single gal still figuring her way in the world. I lived among too many families back near Powderhorn...all the men at nearby coffeeshops wore gold rings...and I am not about to hit on an attached man! I will have to work on my flirtation skills as well as my ability to engage in conversation with strangers.
Last night, I swam at the end of my workout at the gym. The hot tub, whirlypool-thingamabob seemed like a nice conclusion for my muscles. Two men were in the tub already and engaged in conversation about swimming. I got in, conscious of the fact that I had not shaved my legs but not caring if they judged me for it. I tried to create a private space around me, for no reasonable reason, and tried to pretend the water was as hot as it should be.
The older of the two men soon rose to get into the pool for his swim, and I stretched out a bit further, hoping the water would get warmer through sheer patience. The younger man across from me saw right through my invisible barrier and started a conversation. Personal boundaries are amazingly hard shells for something you cannot see!! As soon as he spoke, I felt the shell crack and fall away, revealing a soft and gooey me inside. Conversation oozed out of me and all semblance of aloofness shattered. My attitude completely changed so I became immediately approachable...but, only after I was approached. Hmmm...
We spoke for a long time, of dance, work, dance, travel and dance. He is a ballroom dance instructor and wanted me to visit the studio sometime. He is clearly the person that I have not yet learned to be...completely unabashedly affable. I haven"t master the unabashed part. Two things I took away from the conversation: one-he told me how I spoke reminded him of dance...it was easy, flowing; two-he commented that a person may look like they do not want to talk, but perhaps they are like me, and just need someone else to make the first move.
I vow, today, to practice talking to people more often at the gym, at the coffeeshop and anywhere I can. In fact, I did this already! As I wrested with a screwdriver and my mailbox (there being no key to it yet) two men came out of the apartment closest to me. I asked them if they knew how to break into a mailbox. With some hesitation, they gallantly came to my rescue and one of them in under 5 seconds had the mailbox open and my mail was in my hand! I opened the door for interaction and literally had another door opened for me! I think I am learning my lesson - this WORKS!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Single with Mice, past-tense
For the last three months, I have been forced to share my home with mice which makes me very thankful to be moved into a new place. I never would have predicted how low my tolerance level for mice actually is. I hate mice. I have been transformed into a girly mess over these rodents. Spiders are fine, box elder bugs are fine, I would even prefer a Rabies-infected bat! (I also really hate those house centipedes that are super speedy and come out of drains! eew!) Mice are not easy to get rid of and the poop EVERYWHERE! It is very disconcerting to know where the mice has been by their excessive excrement. As I prepare to move, I feel almost like I have lost to the mice.
I have seen mice in two other houses where I was sleeping; both were ex-boyfriends' homes when they were there too. Hearing and seeing a mouse when in the presence of a man was completely different to finding them on my own. I have tried to reflect on this difference and really hope it is not about having a big strong man to protect me. The two mice seen with boyfriends were only seen once by me, and seemed to stay in areas I was not about to sleep. I did boot-up when I saw one in the kitchen where I had been cooking barefoot, but I then proceeded to sleep on the mattress on the floor 10 feet away from the kitchen door. Having arms around me did not hurt too of course.
I first discovered definite mousage problems when I had just returned from Europe this summer. There had been a brief suspicion earlier, after some dirt mysteriously jumped out of a potted plant, twice, but without any other evidence. I was home alone, at night, sitting in my comfy chair watching something on my computer, when I heard a crinkle of plastic on my art table. The fan may have been on, so I thought nothing of it. However, your brain can somehow tell when something is not correlated...and this noise was not caused by the fan. I went to investigate if a box elder bug had landed on something. I picked up a box to move it, and a mouse leaped out and ran across the floor! Talk about a surprise! I squealed and probably ran away or did a little dance!
In my bedroom, one door over, I sat on the bed heart thumping. There was more light in this room and I was clearly there, but nonetheless a mouse or the same one decided to run into my room from the other room. I squealed again, and I like to think the mouse squeaked in response, and ran back the way it had come! This was not pleasant, not exciting at all. We were as far from the kitchen as possible and I was not happy to think about going to sleep that night.
I woke up three times that night hearing mice and worrying about mice. It was not enjoyable trust me. Mice are cute when they are pets for some reason, but little lightening bolts of fur streaking across the floor where your bare feet just were is eerie. I ever since worn shoes or heavy slippers when walking anywhere in my house. Besides the thought of little claws digging into my flesh as a mouse sought refuge in my pant leg, I did not want to step on any carcasses when we put out the poison that made them drop dead anywhere. Finding dead mice made me scream just as much as seeing a living one!
How I missed a man during these mousy months! I wanted to surrender into a man's arms, relinquishing my tough shell to fully expose the gooey girly core. But alas, I was -am- single. I have survived the mouse house and (fingers crossed) have not brought any stowaways along with me. I now reside in a sweet bachelorette-pad near downtown Minneapolis. It is as if I have moved to a Midwestern New York City neighborhood. Living in an apartment is quite a change from the homey family-friendly neighborhood where I left, and I hope to become a person worthy of this younger-, hipper-, and much more appropriate-apartment. I raise my paper cup of lemonade to my new adventure...and now to find my drink glasses...
I have seen mice in two other houses where I was sleeping; both were ex-boyfriends' homes when they were there too. Hearing and seeing a mouse when in the presence of a man was completely different to finding them on my own. I have tried to reflect on this difference and really hope it is not about having a big strong man to protect me. The two mice seen with boyfriends were only seen once by me, and seemed to stay in areas I was not about to sleep. I did boot-up when I saw one in the kitchen where I had been cooking barefoot, but I then proceeded to sleep on the mattress on the floor 10 feet away from the kitchen door. Having arms around me did not hurt too of course.
I first discovered definite mousage problems when I had just returned from Europe this summer. There had been a brief suspicion earlier, after some dirt mysteriously jumped out of a potted plant, twice, but without any other evidence. I was home alone, at night, sitting in my comfy chair watching something on my computer, when I heard a crinkle of plastic on my art table. The fan may have been on, so I thought nothing of it. However, your brain can somehow tell when something is not correlated...and this noise was not caused by the fan. I went to investigate if a box elder bug had landed on something. I picked up a box to move it, and a mouse leaped out and ran across the floor! Talk about a surprise! I squealed and probably ran away or did a little dance!
In my bedroom, one door over, I sat on the bed heart thumping. There was more light in this room and I was clearly there, but nonetheless a mouse or the same one decided to run into my room from the other room. I squealed again, and I like to think the mouse squeaked in response, and ran back the way it had come! This was not pleasant, not exciting at all. We were as far from the kitchen as possible and I was not happy to think about going to sleep that night.
I woke up three times that night hearing mice and worrying about mice. It was not enjoyable trust me. Mice are cute when they are pets for some reason, but little lightening bolts of fur streaking across the floor where your bare feet just were is eerie. I ever since worn shoes or heavy slippers when walking anywhere in my house. Besides the thought of little claws digging into my flesh as a mouse sought refuge in my pant leg, I did not want to step on any carcasses when we put out the poison that made them drop dead anywhere. Finding dead mice made me scream just as much as seeing a living one!
How I missed a man during these mousy months! I wanted to surrender into a man's arms, relinquishing my tough shell to fully expose the gooey girly core. But alas, I was -am- single. I have survived the mouse house and (fingers crossed) have not brought any stowaways along with me. I now reside in a sweet bachelorette-pad near downtown Minneapolis. It is as if I have moved to a Midwestern New York City neighborhood. Living in an apartment is quite a change from the homey family-friendly neighborhood where I left, and I hope to become a person worthy of this younger-, hipper-, and much more appropriate-apartment. I raise my paper cup of lemonade to my new adventure...and now to find my drink glasses...
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Book Review: Have Him at Hello by Rachel Greenwald
As I have mentioned, I have been reading dating advice books lately. Before I begin to share my thoughts on them, I want to issue a disclaimer.
Disclaimer:
I do not believe any book has all the answers to help anyone get a boyfriend/girlfriend and I do not recognize any author as a true authority whom I must obey. I read these books as a form of meditation on the issues I have, and I use them only to help direct my self-analysis.
Title: Have Him at Hello: Confessions from 1,000 guys about what makes them fall in love...or never cal back
Author: Rachel Greenwald
Three reasons women think are why men do not call:
1) Timing -not ready for a relationship
2) Fear -of being hurt again
3) Why bother? -perceived her disinterest and decided not to pursue a lost cause
The author researched why men actually did not call a woman back after a first date. The top ten reasons describe how their date was too much like:
1) a Boss Lady, someone who acted too dominant, which appears controlling, unfeminine, and competitive
2) the Blahs, someone who is just generally boring, hard to engage and unopinionated
3) a Bait and Switcher, someone who creates a false impression of themselves in order to get asked out
4) a Park Avenue Princess, someone seen as high-maintenance or overly concerned with money/things
5) a Closer, someone overly focused on obtaining a boyfriend, husband or child, which seems needy
6) a Flasher, someone who reveals a lot of negative personal information and baggage right away
7) a Bitch-in-Boots, someone who just seems mean, acting rude towards her date or a third-party
8) a Debbie Downer, someone who constantly complains or is generally bitter and cynical
9) an Ex-Factor, someone who talks too much about her ex-boyfriend/ex-husband
10) a One-way Street, someone who dominates the date and acts self-absorbed
For each of the above unattractive perceptions, the author describes the behavior, quotes many different men, then provides a checklist for the reader to see if she may be seen this way. The last part of each section covers ways to counter the perception proactively, by doing other things instead. Thankfully, I do not believe I fell into every category, but using the checklist I was able to identify a few areas where I can improve.
Although, I consider myself independent and able to accomplish things, I am by no means a Boss Lady. Since I am not exactly where I want to be in my life jobwise, I have no identifying ties to my title. Without any vanity, I am happy to say I am not the Blahs, a Bait and Switcher or a Park Avenue Princess either! I thought it was possible I could be the Closer, or the Flasher or the Ex-Factor because I have, contrary to all advice from everyone, done whatever I wanted on a first date thinking honesty was the best thing. So I have been attracted to someone's marriage potential and revealed some baggage...about an ex-relationship too soon. But I did not quite fit into any of these top personae. So I read on.
I, also, did not meet the criteria for the next five date-breaker issues which were so interesting the author felt she had to include them. I was not (11) a Seinfeld, someone with a particular quirk that didn't sit right with the man (e.g. eating your peas one at a time ala one of Jerry's girlfriends), (12) a Never-Ever, someone who make an absolute statement about having kids or something else of importance to the man, (13) a Birds-of-a-Feather, someone on whom friends or family negatively reflects based on simple association, (14) a Psychobabbler, someone who spews too much therapy-inspired language, nor (15) a Wino (no explanation necessary).
This book was fast becoming wast of my time, so I had to flip through the rest to find something more interesting. I turned doubtfully to the next section on post-date problems that cause a man to lose interest. Part of me screamed, "I am bot even having FIRST dates, let alone SECOND!! Where is the book for me?!!" This section offered me better insight surprisingly. The top five reasons the connection is dropped after a first date are very similar to the first meet, at least for me. I manage to blow a first meeting and never even get to a first date, even when their were sparks! I think I am just bad at fanning the flames without putting them out completely! Sigh.
Five post-date-breakers:
1) The Sadie Hawkins, someone who pursues a man too hard herself before the man has had any fun chasing her
2) The Flame-Out, a relationship that begins with intense emotional or physical intimacy, but it was too much, too soon
3) The Busy Bee, someone who has too many other commitments to make a second date or seems too popular in general during the first date
4) The R U 4 Real, someone who gives a bad impression through electronic communication, either through a confusing message, poor spelling or inexplicable silence
5) The Tailspin, someone who gets so upset about how long it takes a man to call her back, that when he does she acts aloof
I am, unmistakably, a Sadie Hawkins...sigh...sigh...sigh. I do not want to sit on my hands just to let the men have all the fun of the chase! Why must women always make sacrifices of their own happiness for that of men?! (Ok, I fully acknowledge that hyperbolic statement is inaccurate, but let me please artistically express myself.) Sadie Hawkins was a character in a satirical comic of Li'l Abner who literally chased men in a race held by her father for her to find a husband. Modern women are doing more and more on par with men, but it makes me ill when I contemplate letting men chase me and being the object of the chase. I may be incapable of preventing myself from chasing something (anything) I want. The world should be thankful I have not truly wanted the moon!
Men, do you know how hard it is to flirt with a man but then not pursue him? Do you realize that make-up and clothes are our plumage which is flaunted just to catch your eye and make you come a running? (And do you realize how rarely it works?) I have been going to bars looking smashing and yet to find someone who is truly interested in approaching me to ask for my number. Maybe I just have to wear this one red dress that caused quite a stir last summer...hmmm....who cares if it is winter?
Disclaimer:
I do not believe any book has all the answers to help anyone get a boyfriend/girlfriend and I do not recognize any author as a true authority whom I must obey. I read these books as a form of meditation on the issues I have, and I use them only to help direct my self-analysis.
Title: Have Him at Hello: Confessions from 1,000 guys about what makes them fall in love...or never cal back
Author: Rachel Greenwald
Three reasons women think are why men do not call:
1) Timing -not ready for a relationship
2) Fear -of being hurt again
3) Why bother? -perceived her disinterest and decided not to pursue a lost cause
The author researched why men actually did not call a woman back after a first date. The top ten reasons describe how their date was too much like:
1) a Boss Lady, someone who acted too dominant, which appears controlling, unfeminine, and competitive
2) the Blahs, someone who is just generally boring, hard to engage and unopinionated
3) a Bait and Switcher, someone who creates a false impression of themselves in order to get asked out
4) a Park Avenue Princess, someone seen as high-maintenance or overly concerned with money/things
5) a Closer, someone overly focused on obtaining a boyfriend, husband or child, which seems needy
6) a Flasher, someone who reveals a lot of negative personal information and baggage right away
7) a Bitch-in-Boots, someone who just seems mean, acting rude towards her date or a third-party
8) a Debbie Downer, someone who constantly complains or is generally bitter and cynical
9) an Ex-Factor, someone who talks too much about her ex-boyfriend/ex-husband
10) a One-way Street, someone who dominates the date and acts self-absorbed
For each of the above unattractive perceptions, the author describes the behavior, quotes many different men, then provides a checklist for the reader to see if she may be seen this way. The last part of each section covers ways to counter the perception proactively, by doing other things instead. Thankfully, I do not believe I fell into every category, but using the checklist I was able to identify a few areas where I can improve.
Although, I consider myself independent and able to accomplish things, I am by no means a Boss Lady. Since I am not exactly where I want to be in my life jobwise, I have no identifying ties to my title. Without any vanity, I am happy to say I am not the Blahs, a Bait and Switcher or a Park Avenue Princess either! I thought it was possible I could be the Closer, or the Flasher or the Ex-Factor because I have, contrary to all advice from everyone, done whatever I wanted on a first date thinking honesty was the best thing. So I have been attracted to someone's marriage potential and revealed some baggage...about an ex-relationship too soon. But I did not quite fit into any of these top personae. So I read on.
I, also, did not meet the criteria for the next five date-breaker issues which were so interesting the author felt she had to include them. I was not (11) a Seinfeld, someone with a particular quirk that didn't sit right with the man (e.g. eating your peas one at a time ala one of Jerry's girlfriends), (12) a Never-Ever, someone who make an absolute statement about having kids or something else of importance to the man, (13) a Birds-of-a-Feather, someone on whom friends or family negatively reflects based on simple association, (14) a Psychobabbler, someone who spews too much therapy-inspired language, nor (15) a Wino (no explanation necessary).
This book was fast becoming wast of my time, so I had to flip through the rest to find something more interesting. I turned doubtfully to the next section on post-date problems that cause a man to lose interest. Part of me screamed, "I am bot even having FIRST dates, let alone SECOND!! Where is the book for me?!!" This section offered me better insight surprisingly. The top five reasons the connection is dropped after a first date are very similar to the first meet, at least for me. I manage to blow a first meeting and never even get to a first date, even when their were sparks! I think I am just bad at fanning the flames without putting them out completely! Sigh.
Five post-date-breakers:
1) The Sadie Hawkins, someone who pursues a man too hard herself before the man has had any fun chasing her
2) The Flame-Out, a relationship that begins with intense emotional or physical intimacy, but it was too much, too soon
3) The Busy Bee, someone who has too many other commitments to make a second date or seems too popular in general during the first date
4) The R U 4 Real, someone who gives a bad impression through electronic communication, either through a confusing message, poor spelling or inexplicable silence
5) The Tailspin, someone who gets so upset about how long it takes a man to call her back, that when he does she acts aloof
I am, unmistakably, a Sadie Hawkins...sigh...sigh...sigh. I do not want to sit on my hands just to let the men have all the fun of the chase! Why must women always make sacrifices of their own happiness for that of men?! (Ok, I fully acknowledge that hyperbolic statement is inaccurate, but let me please artistically express myself.) Sadie Hawkins was a character in a satirical comic of Li'l Abner who literally chased men in a race held by her father for her to find a husband. Modern women are doing more and more on par with men, but it makes me ill when I contemplate letting men chase me and being the object of the chase. I may be incapable of preventing myself from chasing something (anything) I want. The world should be thankful I have not truly wanted the moon!
Men, do you know how hard it is to flirt with a man but then not pursue him? Do you realize that make-up and clothes are our plumage which is flaunted just to catch your eye and make you come a running? (And do you realize how rarely it works?) I have been going to bars looking smashing and yet to find someone who is truly interested in approaching me to ask for my number. Maybe I just have to wear this one red dress that caused quite a stir last summer...hmmm....who cares if it is winter?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Getting my flirt on (again thankfully!)
Last night, I was feeling discouraged. About what? I couldn't quite put my finger on it, so I guess it was about a little of everything. It got worse when a friend asked me online how I have been doing. Like always, I decided to be honest and answered snarkily with "just ok." Being the good friend that he is, he asked me to explain. My litany of minor complaints now seems petty and ridiculous. He covered every one of my woes with a silver lining, and I found myself unable to help seeing the bright side of things. I wouldn't have admitted this then though...I just rolled my eyes and unconvincingly agreed with him.
Before bed I glanced through a few of the dating advice books I had requested from the library. I decided I needed to see what supposed experts had to say, partly to help with my drinking for one experiment and partly because I am actually interested in being a better dater, making fewer mistakes. Some things made my ears perk but my attention flitted away to another book that put me to sleep. I knew I wanted to write about the dating ideas I had read about, but last night I was lacking passion.
Today, when I woke up, I had a totally different attitude. I was surprised to find out that I believed the positive messages from my friend! Before heading to the gym a day later than planned, I decided I wanted to put a little extra effort into my appearance and try one piece of dating advice on for size. The only tidbit that stood out for me from my one glance through the book was the idea that I could meet a man anywhere, anytime and not just in a bar on Friday night. I resolved to look at people around me more, as I kicked myself for forgetting that it is nice to engage with strangers instead of walking past without a thought.
My contacts were a must for a day like this, since I wanted to see all the men even in my periphery. I even brushed my eyebrows into a probably indiscernible different alignment. And then I exited the house in my favorite brown boots to find the makeup I left in the car. I am shocked to hear myself say this, but putting on just the smallest amount of makeup, can really make a girl feel more beautiful and happy with herself! In the car, at red lights, I brushed on some mascara, smacked my girly pink lipstick, and applies a little cover-up.
I strutted into the gym feeling like I got my sexiness back. I swear I caused a small extra pause in a conversation between three men as I walked by and flashed a small smile. I wanted to laugh out loud, but did not want to seem crazy. I soon was in a groovy rhythm on the elliptical machine, still thinking I was looking pretty great with my ponytail swinging. (I am a hot babe out jogging...making sure this stays a 10!) I kept my eyes open and felt this attitude fit me well.
I finished my workout with some back/biceps work but kept it light to go easy on my sore back. One of the assisted chin/dip machines was messed up, so I told the nearest trainer, who was eating a very healthy snack of celery and peanut butter. I had not seen him here before, maybe I should come on Mondays more often...he was definitely attractive. Telling him about the problem ended up being an excellent chance to flirt and it just happened without any effort! It has to be the same feeling an figure skater feels when she lands a triple toe-loop that she has been failing for awhile! To girls have mo-jo? Well, I got it back anyway!
My back pain became a pest and I thought I have to do something about these lower back muscles, but none of the exercise machines conveniently highlighted those muscles in picture form for me. The gym soundtrack includes some plugs to ask trainers for help with learning machines, and this was the perfect opportunity to take them on their offer. I headed to the main desk, but the guy there was talking to some other people and another trainer walked by without asking me if he could help, but then with perfect timing came my celery munching trainer. He spoke first, asking about the rest of my workout, so it was a smooth transition into my question and then into a brief demonstration.
I think I need to continue to go to the gym in Uptown, because the male trainers there are very attractive and there is something about talking about the position of your butt when doing a squat with a man that is quite entertaining to do in public! We talked about the benefits of personal training and the possibility of a special going on now, when his also attractive supervisor came over to give him a new client. This guy was flirtalicious from the start! He just had to engage me, shake my hand and ask my name. His eye contact was addictive. I quite happily allowed myself to be passed off to him to chat about personal training specials.
This dear man really demonstrated supreme patience with me as I hemmed and hawed over the financial cost of this service I have really wanted. To set the record straight, I was not procrastinating just to spend more time with him. In fact, he kept interrupting my serious pondering to show me his iPad or his new Sprint phone that has a kickstand! I couldn't help but laugh at his cute puppy-ness as he played with his new toys. He slowly slipped into an informal manner as we chatted and I got playfully flirty myself! My eyes were sparkling with what must have been real bits of sapphires, and my smile was stretching my face out...he was thoroughly engaging! As I signed up for personal training sessions I hoped I had not been conned by a pretty face, but then again maybe it was worth it to be able to flirt once more.
My flirting for the day was not over, however! Immediately after I left, I entered Kitchen Window to look at knives. A man came to my aide almost like magic, and when I asked if he would talk with me about knives, he humorously replied. We chatted for over an hour about knives and we chopped up some carrots together. Even though he seemed to be gay or not my usual type, I loved talking about his upcoming trip to Italy and mine to Europe. My attitude of openness allowed me to have three gorgeous interactions with men in very everyday situations. I am inspired to think that there really are men all around and if I just open up the definition of my type, I will easily meet more people and continue to enjoy myself! Here, here!
Before bed I glanced through a few of the dating advice books I had requested from the library. I decided I needed to see what supposed experts had to say, partly to help with my drinking for one experiment and partly because I am actually interested in being a better dater, making fewer mistakes. Some things made my ears perk but my attention flitted away to another book that put me to sleep. I knew I wanted to write about the dating ideas I had read about, but last night I was lacking passion.
Today, when I woke up, I had a totally different attitude. I was surprised to find out that I believed the positive messages from my friend! Before heading to the gym a day later than planned, I decided I wanted to put a little extra effort into my appearance and try one piece of dating advice on for size. The only tidbit that stood out for me from my one glance through the book was the idea that I could meet a man anywhere, anytime and not just in a bar on Friday night. I resolved to look at people around me more, as I kicked myself for forgetting that it is nice to engage with strangers instead of walking past without a thought.
My contacts were a must for a day like this, since I wanted to see all the men even in my periphery. I even brushed my eyebrows into a probably indiscernible different alignment. And then I exited the house in my favorite brown boots to find the makeup I left in the car. I am shocked to hear myself say this, but putting on just the smallest amount of makeup, can really make a girl feel more beautiful and happy with herself! In the car, at red lights, I brushed on some mascara, smacked my girly pink lipstick, and applies a little cover-up.
I strutted into the gym feeling like I got my sexiness back. I swear I caused a small extra pause in a conversation between three men as I walked by and flashed a small smile. I wanted to laugh out loud, but did not want to seem crazy. I soon was in a groovy rhythm on the elliptical machine, still thinking I was looking pretty great with my ponytail swinging. (I am a hot babe out jogging...making sure this stays a 10!) I kept my eyes open and felt this attitude fit me well.
I finished my workout with some back/biceps work but kept it light to go easy on my sore back. One of the assisted chin/dip machines was messed up, so I told the nearest trainer, who was eating a very healthy snack of celery and peanut butter. I had not seen him here before, maybe I should come on Mondays more often...he was definitely attractive. Telling him about the problem ended up being an excellent chance to flirt and it just happened without any effort! It has to be the same feeling an figure skater feels when she lands a triple toe-loop that she has been failing for awhile! To girls have mo-jo? Well, I got it back anyway!
My back pain became a pest and I thought I have to do something about these lower back muscles, but none of the exercise machines conveniently highlighted those muscles in picture form for me. The gym soundtrack includes some plugs to ask trainers for help with learning machines, and this was the perfect opportunity to take them on their offer. I headed to the main desk, but the guy there was talking to some other people and another trainer walked by without asking me if he could help, but then with perfect timing came my celery munching trainer. He spoke first, asking about the rest of my workout, so it was a smooth transition into my question and then into a brief demonstration.
I think I need to continue to go to the gym in Uptown, because the male trainers there are very attractive and there is something about talking about the position of your butt when doing a squat with a man that is quite entertaining to do in public! We talked about the benefits of personal training and the possibility of a special going on now, when his also attractive supervisor came over to give him a new client. This guy was flirtalicious from the start! He just had to engage me, shake my hand and ask my name. His eye contact was addictive. I quite happily allowed myself to be passed off to him to chat about personal training specials.
This dear man really demonstrated supreme patience with me as I hemmed and hawed over the financial cost of this service I have really wanted. To set the record straight, I was not procrastinating just to spend more time with him. In fact, he kept interrupting my serious pondering to show me his iPad or his new Sprint phone that has a kickstand! I couldn't help but laugh at his cute puppy-ness as he played with his new toys. He slowly slipped into an informal manner as we chatted and I got playfully flirty myself! My eyes were sparkling with what must have been real bits of sapphires, and my smile was stretching my face out...he was thoroughly engaging! As I signed up for personal training sessions I hoped I had not been conned by a pretty face, but then again maybe it was worth it to be able to flirt once more.
My flirting for the day was not over, however! Immediately after I left, I entered Kitchen Window to look at knives. A man came to my aide almost like magic, and when I asked if he would talk with me about knives, he humorously replied. We chatted for over an hour about knives and we chopped up some carrots together. Even though he seemed to be gay or not my usual type, I loved talking about his upcoming trip to Italy and mine to Europe. My attitude of openness allowed me to have three gorgeous interactions with men in very everyday situations. I am inspired to think that there really are men all around and if I just open up the definition of my type, I will easily meet more people and continue to enjoy myself! Here, here!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Nakedness at Night
Do you ever look at your naked body when you are changing clothes or taking a shower and wonder how you ever thought it was sexy or beautiful? Not that anything has changed, but after being single and chaste for a time, your body does not seem like anything that has done any of what you know it has.
I think many people could agree my body is quite nice, as far as bodies go, but lately I have looked at it in confusion. It is as if I picked up a much loved book and could no longer make out the words. I cannot see sexy when I look at my curvy parts or touch my skin. I am not ashamed to admit that I look at myself naked in the mirror and wonder what anyone could see in my backside.
When I was in Spain and able to swim topless, it was both pleasant and way too matter-of-fact to hear my two male companions talk about my breasts. It had taken me a bit more courage than I had thought would be necessary to strip off my top and actually take the plunge into this European custom. As soon as my top was off and I proceeded to swim out to a buoy with my friend's friend who I had met two days before, he felt it was ok to tell me how nice they were. I almost thought he said something else. Back on the beach my friend himself greeted me with, "they are bigger than they look under your shirt" and I again was taken aback. There was something nice about the openness and bluntness, but thinking back, it seems as if they deconstructed me...and surgically removed the sexiness from my body somewhere in that conversation. Maybe the mystery disappeared because I bared it all!?
Today I was thinking about a friend of mine who has not been romantically involved with anyone for a number of years...and I couldn't help but wonder if, as time goes on, one's mind and body get too comfortable not being sexual that the desire for intimacy fades away. Right now for me, that desire is very faint...and I hope it has not fallen out of reach.
I think many people could agree my body is quite nice, as far as bodies go, but lately I have looked at it in confusion. It is as if I picked up a much loved book and could no longer make out the words. I cannot see sexy when I look at my curvy parts or touch my skin. I am not ashamed to admit that I look at myself naked in the mirror and wonder what anyone could see in my backside.
When I was in Spain and able to swim topless, it was both pleasant and way too matter-of-fact to hear my two male companions talk about my breasts. It had taken me a bit more courage than I had thought would be necessary to strip off my top and actually take the plunge into this European custom. As soon as my top was off and I proceeded to swim out to a buoy with my friend's friend who I had met two days before, he felt it was ok to tell me how nice they were. I almost thought he said something else. Back on the beach my friend himself greeted me with, "they are bigger than they look under your shirt" and I again was taken aback. There was something nice about the openness and bluntness, but thinking back, it seems as if they deconstructed me...and surgically removed the sexiness from my body somewhere in that conversation. Maybe the mystery disappeared because I bared it all!?
Today I was thinking about a friend of mine who has not been romantically involved with anyone for a number of years...and I couldn't help but wonder if, as time goes on, one's mind and body get too comfortable not being sexual that the desire for intimacy fades away. Right now for me, that desire is very faint...and I hope it has not fallen out of reach.
Reflections for a Birthday and Beyond
Yesterday, I turned 27...what an interesting number. I do not feel sad or scared that I am getting older; in fact, being 27 feels sort of like trying on a new piece of clothing! I like the feel so far, and I am glad I bought it. Without the feeling of doom that some people seem to express when they are single on their birthdays, I feel slightly abnormal. I have no grand delusions that there is no hope for me to find happiness or anything in the future. There is no chance I would want to do things any differently, but that does not mean I cannot reflect somewhat on where I am.
As a teenager, I thought I could declare an age when I would get married and another for starting a family. It seemed to easy to be an adult to me as a naive awkward high-schooler. I guess we adults somehow pull off looking like we have it all figured it out, or maybe I was even more gullible back then! I cannot fathom how people just have mid-life crises, when my life seems like a constant stream of internal crises. They have not stopped since puberty! I am always unsure and flailing. Perhaps I am just weird, the goose among all the duck ducks, but I strongly doubt it. My friends all are struggling in their own way, the married ones, the dating ones, the single ones. Everyone is living their own struggle and we all believe the grass is greener somewhere else.
Last night, talking with one of my best friends about her life, I saw how she was caught up in her own feelings about her situation that she could not accurately see how the others involved were feeling. Oh how I know THAT feeling! Overwhelming feelings trump any rationality we may possess, leaving us blinded to everything but how we feel. As I tried to help her see through her frustration and hurt, I whispered to myself to keep my feelings in perspective, to be on the lookout for vicious circles.
I do wish I were in a relationship now though, and have started to wonder if I am not doing enough to meet someone. I will work 50 hours this week once Saturday is over, not including the 5 hours of travel time. Work will tire me out, so I will stay in my tent haven and watched Korean dramas more than I would like. I will wear jeans and a T-shirt most days, with mascara for the only make-up. Where is my effort and interest in other people? What am I doing to meet new people for friendship or more? How do I put myself back in the ring for another round?
My horoscope for this month based on Astrology Zone, says that November will the best month of 2010 for me, and that it brings a rare alignment of planets that will bring me brilliant romantic prospects, beauty changes and new business contracts. That almost seems like pressure for me to have an amazing next few weeks! Maybe it predicts my move to a mouse-free home and maybe some man will come into my life? But I feel something has to happen soon.
I have made a lot of changes lately, hoping to take better care of myself. I am going to the gym three times a week, I have finally managed to start brushing my teeth twice a day and flossing once! I am eating better, cooking more, finding new ways to eat vegetables and grains. I bought two new cookbooks and cannot wait for my new kitchen to try them out. I am still struggling to drink more water every day, but I need to have a goal, right? Also, I am getting out more, wearing contacts and mascara to look a little more attractive...but I do think I need to kick up the gear on that score still.
Over the next few days, I want to figure out what I really want and begin to take steps to find it. I am hopeful that I can enjoy this journey and take many photos to remember all that fun I am going to have!
As a teenager, I thought I could declare an age when I would get married and another for starting a family. It seemed to easy to be an adult to me as a naive awkward high-schooler. I guess we adults somehow pull off looking like we have it all figured it out, or maybe I was even more gullible back then! I cannot fathom how people just have mid-life crises, when my life seems like a constant stream of internal crises. They have not stopped since puberty! I am always unsure and flailing. Perhaps I am just weird, the goose among all the duck ducks, but I strongly doubt it. My friends all are struggling in their own way, the married ones, the dating ones, the single ones. Everyone is living their own struggle and we all believe the grass is greener somewhere else.
Last night, talking with one of my best friends about her life, I saw how she was caught up in her own feelings about her situation that she could not accurately see how the others involved were feeling. Oh how I know THAT feeling! Overwhelming feelings trump any rationality we may possess, leaving us blinded to everything but how we feel. As I tried to help her see through her frustration and hurt, I whispered to myself to keep my feelings in perspective, to be on the lookout for vicious circles.
I do wish I were in a relationship now though, and have started to wonder if I am not doing enough to meet someone. I will work 50 hours this week once Saturday is over, not including the 5 hours of travel time. Work will tire me out, so I will stay in my tent haven and watched Korean dramas more than I would like. I will wear jeans and a T-shirt most days, with mascara for the only make-up. Where is my effort and interest in other people? What am I doing to meet new people for friendship or more? How do I put myself back in the ring for another round?
My horoscope for this month based on Astrology Zone, says that November will the best month of 2010 for me, and that it brings a rare alignment of planets that will bring me brilliant romantic prospects, beauty changes and new business contracts. That almost seems like pressure for me to have an amazing next few weeks! Maybe it predicts my move to a mouse-free home and maybe some man will come into my life? But I feel something has to happen soon.
I have made a lot of changes lately, hoping to take better care of myself. I am going to the gym three times a week, I have finally managed to start brushing my teeth twice a day and flossing once! I am eating better, cooking more, finding new ways to eat vegetables and grains. I bought two new cookbooks and cannot wait for my new kitchen to try them out. I am still struggling to drink more water every day, but I need to have a goal, right? Also, I am getting out more, wearing contacts and mascara to look a little more attractive...but I do think I need to kick up the gear on that score still.
Over the next few days, I want to figure out what I really want and begin to take steps to find it. I am hopeful that I can enjoy this journey and take many photos to remember all that fun I am going to have!
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Halloween Weekend's Friday at Cowboy Slim's
I decided I needed to go out again alone, even though I was going out for Halloween the night after. The weather was wonderful and the mice problem at my house was giving me anxiety issues. The hardest part about going out alone is trying to figure out where to go. There are so many different types of places with many different variables to weigh before a decision can be made. I always consider going to a favorite place and sitting alone with a glass of wine, looking nice, but not Uptown nice, before I remember that my favorite places tend to be frequented by a much older or all female crowd. That would not do. All of a sudden, I thought about Cowboy Slim's in Uptown! I have heard about it only, and what I had heard was that it was not classy, not high-end and not very Uptownesque (for being in Uptown). It sounded perfect to me.
Next point to decide, was outfit! I could dress in my Halloween costume, but it was two days before Halloween and that seemed silly, especially going to a country-themed bar seeing as my costume mainly consisted of a man's suit. I had to wear something denim. I also wanted to wear my awesome new brown boots (found at a consignment shop, thank you very much!). My denim skirt would be perfect, but I would need to wear nylons as well, for the minute amount of warmth they provide. My mom recently got some nylons for me at some discounted price...where did I put them? Oh here they are....what they are NAVY!? Navy is not black, but oh well...no one will notice anyway.
After wiggling into my nylons, pulling up the skirt and zipping up my boots, I wondered what top would be best to wear with this...well I should have something else brown...so I pulled a mid-length sleeved brown t-shirt on, and then added my green zipper shirt that I bought in Berlin...I heard somewhere that anything with zippers is hot right now, but I liked it a lot anyway. I did my make-up, making my lips much redder this time because I could, and grabbed my Crown Royal purse.
I had wanted to try to get to the bar late so I could be unbuzzed while all the hot men I hoped to find were already a little buzzed and more likely to hit on me, but I was dead tired. I hate working ten hours on a Friday and then having to work at 9:45 am on Saturday! This work life is cramping my style! So I left my house about 9:15 pm. I found a meter right in front of Heartbreakers that needed only a quarter to get me through until it was no longer enforced...and as I started for Cowboy Slim's I realized Heartbreakers was STILL open...I had to stop in and look for that dress I saw a few weeks ago.
Summer dresses were all clearanced which was perfect, but they were all out of smalls of the dress I wanted. I tried on a medium but found a better style that was cheaper anyway...then I couldn't help myself I also bought a new page-boy hat, a gray one, that would be perfect as it got colder and some $1 lip gloss for tonight. With my purchases stowed in my car and my lips much glossier, I entered Cowboy Slim's.
It is not an attractive bar, but I couldn't tell you why I think so. I looked around and then ordered a drink at the bar. I could believe how inattentive the bartenders were. I ordered the worst gin and tonic I ever had and say down away from everyone to watch people. I watched the bar fill up as I wrote notes. It was quite perfect that I had picked a table right next to the path to the bathrooms, because I got to see all these people up close.
Soon enough the bar was full of people dressed up in a bizarre array of costumes. The tables became a hot commodity and all the extra stools from my table were borrowed by others. Then suddenly I looked up from writing a note about how fake some women looked dressed up to find my table surrounded by Brazilians (three men and one woman. This group of four had decided to sidle up to my table for their own use, and acted as if I was an added bonus for their entertainment. One man began to tell me all about them and ask me all about myself. He told me about their Brazilian roots. He was not attractive.
I had been thinking all night that I must look like an ice queen shooting lasers from her eyes. That would explain all the empty space around me. As soon as this group joined me, I became the way too nice person who talks to everyone, even if I have no desire. I answered the questions less coyly then I like now, and I let him touch me in too friendly a manner! He asked me if I were single, and acted surprised when I said yes. But then he basically warned me away from himself as a bad person to date. How confusing!
I did end up enjoying myself with him and his friend after the others left. This other guy was so outgoing and friendly. He told almost every pretty woman how good she looked and went over to a guy with a head brace screwed into his skull to buy him a drink because he was brave to come out like that. He was a fascinating person and could make me laugh so easily. His friend was not as entertaining. After a horrible T and T (what is wrong with their tonic?!) I was interested in hanging out with them again just for the friend, so when the first guy asked for my phone number I gave it to him...it seemed as if he thought I was hot, but also liked me as a person...so why not?
I left soon after that though because I did not want to drink any more drinks at this place. I left wondering if I had just gotten picked up. Did I accomplish my goal? I have since decided that that did not happen...the guy did not call me and it has been a week. It was close, but not quite a cigar.
Next point to decide, was outfit! I could dress in my Halloween costume, but it was two days before Halloween and that seemed silly, especially going to a country-themed bar seeing as my costume mainly consisted of a man's suit. I had to wear something denim. I also wanted to wear my awesome new brown boots (found at a consignment shop, thank you very much!). My denim skirt would be perfect, but I would need to wear nylons as well, for the minute amount of warmth they provide. My mom recently got some nylons for me at some discounted price...where did I put them? Oh here they are....what they are NAVY!? Navy is not black, but oh well...no one will notice anyway.
After wiggling into my nylons, pulling up the skirt and zipping up my boots, I wondered what top would be best to wear with this...well I should have something else brown...so I pulled a mid-length sleeved brown t-shirt on, and then added my green zipper shirt that I bought in Berlin...I heard somewhere that anything with zippers is hot right now, but I liked it a lot anyway. I did my make-up, making my lips much redder this time because I could, and grabbed my Crown Royal purse.
I had wanted to try to get to the bar late so I could be unbuzzed while all the hot men I hoped to find were already a little buzzed and more likely to hit on me, but I was dead tired. I hate working ten hours on a Friday and then having to work at 9:45 am on Saturday! This work life is cramping my style! So I left my house about 9:15 pm. I found a meter right in front of Heartbreakers that needed only a quarter to get me through until it was no longer enforced...and as I started for Cowboy Slim's I realized Heartbreakers was STILL open...I had to stop in and look for that dress I saw a few weeks ago.
Summer dresses were all clearanced which was perfect, but they were all out of smalls of the dress I wanted. I tried on a medium but found a better style that was cheaper anyway...then I couldn't help myself I also bought a new page-boy hat, a gray one, that would be perfect as it got colder and some $1 lip gloss for tonight. With my purchases stowed in my car and my lips much glossier, I entered Cowboy Slim's.
It is not an attractive bar, but I couldn't tell you why I think so. I looked around and then ordered a drink at the bar. I could believe how inattentive the bartenders were. I ordered the worst gin and tonic I ever had and say down away from everyone to watch people. I watched the bar fill up as I wrote notes. It was quite perfect that I had picked a table right next to the path to the bathrooms, because I got to see all these people up close.
Soon enough the bar was full of people dressed up in a bizarre array of costumes. The tables became a hot commodity and all the extra stools from my table were borrowed by others. Then suddenly I looked up from writing a note about how fake some women looked dressed up to find my table surrounded by Brazilians (three men and one woman. This group of four had decided to sidle up to my table for their own use, and acted as if I was an added bonus for their entertainment. One man began to tell me all about them and ask me all about myself. He told me about their Brazilian roots. He was not attractive.
I had been thinking all night that I must look like an ice queen shooting lasers from her eyes. That would explain all the empty space around me. As soon as this group joined me, I became the way too nice person who talks to everyone, even if I have no desire. I answered the questions less coyly then I like now, and I let him touch me in too friendly a manner! He asked me if I were single, and acted surprised when I said yes. But then he basically warned me away from himself as a bad person to date. How confusing!
I did end up enjoying myself with him and his friend after the others left. This other guy was so outgoing and friendly. He told almost every pretty woman how good she looked and went over to a guy with a head brace screwed into his skull to buy him a drink because he was brave to come out like that. He was a fascinating person and could make me laugh so easily. His friend was not as entertaining. After a horrible T and T (what is wrong with their tonic?!) I was interested in hanging out with them again just for the friend, so when the first guy asked for my phone number I gave it to him...it seemed as if he thought I was hot, but also liked me as a person...so why not?
I left soon after that though because I did not want to drink any more drinks at this place. I left wondering if I had just gotten picked up. Did I accomplish my goal? I have since decided that that did not happen...the guy did not call me and it has been a week. It was close, but not quite a cigar.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Contemplating in a Cuddler in Blaine
I am house-sitting and dog-sitting in a northerly suburb of the Twin Cities for the weekend. To accurately describe the scene: I am currently splayed in the cuddler, a cross between a recliner and a love seat, only I cannot figure out how this one un-reclines. I have been instructed to watch a Blu-Ray movie for sure, for sure, because it is like the people are right here with me. I have selected the new Sherlock Holmes in order to best see what action shots look like when they are so vivid.
Being here, in the home of my two dear friends, with their dog and their stuff, I feel once again like I have been banished from reality but forced to observe it from behind an invisible barrier as some torture or punishment for who knows what crime. There is something intangible about the life that is led in this house, which I cannot obtain. On the shelf here in the living room, is the evidence of two lives meshed together; I can clearly tell her DVDs from his, see where they overlapped, and I wonder why they have three copies of 50 First Dates. The clear his and hers toiletries in the shower, proving women really do use more products than men, make me realize how pleasant such simple things like that may be.
The dog is now barking outside, maybe it has started to rain. This massive German Shepard is scared of the rain, I better get him...no he was barking at a greyhound on a walk. He jumped up here in the cuddler with me for a second and his licks and pawing made me recall having my own boyfriend tickling and touching me. I do not miss having a boyfriend too much, but what I miss is liking someone that much. When I love and admire someone, it is a great feeling...and it is happiness. I do not crave someone's touch, (taking care of two 14-month-old twins and a 77-pound 5-year-old provides enough physical contact), nor do I need someone to share holidays and birthdays with (Dr. Joy Browne informed me as I woke up to a foreign alarm that being able to be alone for special occasions helps prevent you from developing a co-dependent relationship).
Whenever I am not involved with someone, the thing I miss the most is simply that I miss being impressed by someone else, I miss finding someone interesting enough to make me want to stare at him, study him, play with him. Did you know that scientists have determined that the length of time babies stare at objects corresponds with how new and interesting the item is to them, that when they are bored they barely look at the object in front of them? I feel a similar draw to the men I date; I want to keep being around them because they continue to interest me and excite me, but my problem however, is that there are very, very few men that make me want to continue to stare long enough to catch their eye. I wish men could be more impressive at first glance.
Watching Sherlock Holmes right now, makes me think about men's behavior. Holmes has been doing a lot of fighting in these first 20 minutes of the movie and it may demonstrate is strength and keen reading of his opponents weak spots, but it does not impress me. Using his brain to figure out how to hurt someone and win the fight is not admirable. Yesterday, I was thinking about sports as well. Playing one on one basketball seems to be a very stereotypical manly thing to do. Maybe it really is fun or good exercise, but too me it is still very clearly a fight, a mock battle. There is nothing impressive to me about men putting orange balls through woven rope, hitting tinnier ones with bats and clubs or 22 men pushing and throwing and kicking to get a weird shaped skin covered ball to a certain line on a field (their tight pants are not even attractive, no matter how often it is talked about!). I do not like sports because I think the men are awesome and hot and super successful human beings! I watch football to exercise my own brain and follow an interesting game and to be involved in an interesting social event.
What activity will show me a guy is impressive? Let me think about what drew me to my various ex-boyfriends...one impressed me through his insightful ideas during a conversation I overheard, one impressed me through his sweet nature and his ability to perceive what was important to me and meet me in those activities, one impressed me with his ability to see me as a whole person and a goddess of perfection when I was just myself. Another man, who I did not date, impressed me with his passion, and his seeming ability to act on what he wanted without pretense or hesitation. But we did not date for a reason unknown for the moment...but what I see impressed me is most definitely the inner spirit of a man and not the outer manifestations of his accomplishments. My eye sees beyond the material...beyond the fabricated fascade we all project...to the core self that most people do not nurture. I am content to wait for a man who knows what is truly important about himself.
Being here, in the home of my two dear friends, with their dog and their stuff, I feel once again like I have been banished from reality but forced to observe it from behind an invisible barrier as some torture or punishment for who knows what crime. There is something intangible about the life that is led in this house, which I cannot obtain. On the shelf here in the living room, is the evidence of two lives meshed together; I can clearly tell her DVDs from his, see where they overlapped, and I wonder why they have three copies of 50 First Dates. The clear his and hers toiletries in the shower, proving women really do use more products than men, make me realize how pleasant such simple things like that may be.
The dog is now barking outside, maybe it has started to rain. This massive German Shepard is scared of the rain, I better get him...no he was barking at a greyhound on a walk. He jumped up here in the cuddler with me for a second and his licks and pawing made me recall having my own boyfriend tickling and touching me. I do not miss having a boyfriend too much, but what I miss is liking someone that much. When I love and admire someone, it is a great feeling...and it is happiness. I do not crave someone's touch, (taking care of two 14-month-old twins and a 77-pound 5-year-old provides enough physical contact), nor do I need someone to share holidays and birthdays with (Dr. Joy Browne informed me as I woke up to a foreign alarm that being able to be alone for special occasions helps prevent you from developing a co-dependent relationship).
Whenever I am not involved with someone, the thing I miss the most is simply that I miss being impressed by someone else, I miss finding someone interesting enough to make me want to stare at him, study him, play with him. Did you know that scientists have determined that the length of time babies stare at objects corresponds with how new and interesting the item is to them, that when they are bored they barely look at the object in front of them? I feel a similar draw to the men I date; I want to keep being around them because they continue to interest me and excite me, but my problem however, is that there are very, very few men that make me want to continue to stare long enough to catch their eye. I wish men could be more impressive at first glance.
Watching Sherlock Holmes right now, makes me think about men's behavior. Holmes has been doing a lot of fighting in these first 20 minutes of the movie and it may demonstrate is strength and keen reading of his opponents weak spots, but it does not impress me. Using his brain to figure out how to hurt someone and win the fight is not admirable. Yesterday, I was thinking about sports as well. Playing one on one basketball seems to be a very stereotypical manly thing to do. Maybe it really is fun or good exercise, but too me it is still very clearly a fight, a mock battle. There is nothing impressive to me about men putting orange balls through woven rope, hitting tinnier ones with bats and clubs or 22 men pushing and throwing and kicking to get a weird shaped skin covered ball to a certain line on a field (their tight pants are not even attractive, no matter how often it is talked about!). I do not like sports because I think the men are awesome and hot and super successful human beings! I watch football to exercise my own brain and follow an interesting game and to be involved in an interesting social event.
What activity will show me a guy is impressive? Let me think about what drew me to my various ex-boyfriends...one impressed me through his insightful ideas during a conversation I overheard, one impressed me through his sweet nature and his ability to perceive what was important to me and meet me in those activities, one impressed me with his ability to see me as a whole person and a goddess of perfection when I was just myself. Another man, who I did not date, impressed me with his passion, and his seeming ability to act on what he wanted without pretense or hesitation. But we did not date for a reason unknown for the moment...but what I see impressed me is most definitely the inner spirit of a man and not the outer manifestations of his accomplishments. My eye sees beyond the material...beyond the fabricated fascade we all project...to the core self that most people do not nurture. I am content to wait for a man who knows what is truly important about himself.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Forgetting something at an ex's house
Recently, I was visiting an ex-boyfriend with whom I am still close friends. I spent a few hours there before I had to leave. It was lovely to see him again and to catch up. The day after I visited him, he called me up to tell me I forgot something. When he told me I left the renewal stickers for my license plates, I realized how funny it is that I left something so benign and boring.
I did not leave anything vital or scandalous. There was no dramatic story about me visiting an ex and leaving something that got me into trouble with a new girlfriend or that would make him think I did it on purpose. I have no intention of pursuing him again or anything, but I had to ask myself why I cannot even make a visit to a hot ex-boyfriend into a good story even by stretching the truth. How sad!
I did not leave anything vital or scandalous. There was no dramatic story about me visiting an ex and leaving something that got me into trouble with a new girlfriend or that would make him think I did it on purpose. I have no intention of pursuing him again or anything, but I had to ask myself why I cannot even make a visit to a hot ex-boyfriend into a good story even by stretching the truth. How sad!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Dating in Korean Dramas
Lately, all I want to watch is Korean dramas on Hulu; I simply cannot get enough of them! I have not yet figured out why I like them so much but they are definitely overly sappy at times, and everyone knows I am the biggest sap. They may be romantic dramas, or romantic comic-dramas (I do not know if it is supposed to be so funny), but they are always about love.
The common template is very strongly an opposites-attract Cinderella-story, and only slightly more subtle. There is always a man or boy who is way, way, way out of the female protagonist's league in some way. He may be the richest, the smartest, the highest rank, or even, as in one of my favorites, she may think he is gay. The girl in all these dramas is on the other end of extreme; she is the dry cleaner's daughter with the scholarship to the good school, the bottom-ranked student who is temporarily homeless, the lowest ranked chef in the kitchen, the overweight foul-mouthed patissier, or the unemployed furniture designer. Fate always brings these two complete opposites together in a colossal bang!
Unlike Cinderella, it is not love at first sight; it is inevitably conflict at first crash. You know how this story goes, Hollywood does it all the time too. The two would-be lovers always hate each other and fight all the time. I have never had this happen to me in real life, even with my opposites! This makes for great entertainment.
I am not interested in the cliche-ed plot lines, but in the cultural differences in dating habits that are portrayed in these shows. The social rules of etiquette are very different from ours in most circles it appears. Let me offer some examples.
* Being roommates with a man, as a single woman is frowned upon (unless he is gay)
* Many parents insist on approving of the match and often try to arrange marriages as good business sense
* One kiss typically means you are dating, but does not happen first all the time
* Hand holding is perceived as a very strong sign of interest
* Professing interest in someone seems very straightforward and commonplace: "hey, I like you"
* Giving chocolates on Valentine's day is a very strong sign you like someone and you only give it to one person
Dating can mean spending time together, but rarely kissing, holding hands and most likely never being alone in an apartment for very long. Everyone around the couple seem to be sensitive to shows of affection. I find it almost like how I think of adolescent dating (the good adolescents, not the beer-swigging party animals that have sex really young)...it is sweet, and cute and almost without sexual tension. The kiss becomes the focus, not getting into anyone's pants!
I do not know if I would like dating to be that way or the way it is for me here in Minnesota. I can decide later, and get back to watching my latest Korean drama!
The common template is very strongly an opposites-attract Cinderella-story, and only slightly more subtle. There is always a man or boy who is way, way, way out of the female protagonist's league in some way. He may be the richest, the smartest, the highest rank, or even, as in one of my favorites, she may think he is gay. The girl in all these dramas is on the other end of extreme; she is the dry cleaner's daughter with the scholarship to the good school, the bottom-ranked student who is temporarily homeless, the lowest ranked chef in the kitchen, the overweight foul-mouthed patissier, or the unemployed furniture designer. Fate always brings these two complete opposites together in a colossal bang!
Unlike Cinderella, it is not love at first sight; it is inevitably conflict at first crash. You know how this story goes, Hollywood does it all the time too. The two would-be lovers always hate each other and fight all the time. I have never had this happen to me in real life, even with my opposites! This makes for great entertainment.
I am not interested in the cliche-ed plot lines, but in the cultural differences in dating habits that are portrayed in these shows. The social rules of etiquette are very different from ours in most circles it appears. Let me offer some examples.
* Being roommates with a man, as a single woman is frowned upon (unless he is gay)
* Many parents insist on approving of the match and often try to arrange marriages as good business sense
* One kiss typically means you are dating, but does not happen first all the time
* Hand holding is perceived as a very strong sign of interest
* Professing interest in someone seems very straightforward and commonplace: "hey, I like you"
* Giving chocolates on Valentine's day is a very strong sign you like someone and you only give it to one person
Dating can mean spending time together, but rarely kissing, holding hands and most likely never being alone in an apartment for very long. Everyone around the couple seem to be sensitive to shows of affection. I find it almost like how I think of adolescent dating (the good adolescents, not the beer-swigging party animals that have sex really young)...it is sweet, and cute and almost without sexual tension. The kiss becomes the focus, not getting into anyone's pants!
I do not know if I would like dating to be that way or the way it is for me here in Minnesota. I can decide later, and get back to watching my latest Korean drama!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Looking hot at LA Fitness
A few weeks ago, I joined a gym. I am still surprised at this, because the idea of a gym has typically made me sick. All these sweaty people running in place right next to each other, but not seeming to notice they weren't alone; all those muscles bulging and straining, trying to help their owner look sexier or ripped -EEEW! But now, three times a week, I am one of those sweaty people working to look ripped myself.
A few of my excuses for joining a gym are as follows:
1) I had so much fun swimming in the Mediterranean that I want to swim more regularly,
2) Working out will improve my mood during the winter months,
3) A nice getaway from a mouse-invested house,
4) If I pay for it, I will actually take the time to go and work out, which is something I want to do,
5) I want to try yoga classes, and
6) I want to challenge myself to build up my muscles and flexibility to be even better than I am!
(Hey, those are great reasons! Maybe I should not call them excuses.)
Thankfully, meeting men was not one of my reasons for joining, but the idea did cross my mind as I considered the idea. It is SO cliche to TRY to meet a man at the gym, and so, of course, I wanted to give it a whirl. Before my first visit, I daydreamed about looking super cute in tight pants and a sports bra (which likely would cause some nipping) as I lifted weights and impressed the men (who in my dream, were all super hot, but not too ripped as to seem obscene!). This is not likely going to happen.
My first session involved a free hour with a personal trainer who helped me focus my goals and better plan for my time at the gym in the future. He took me through a workout, focusing on my chest, shoulders and triceps, because I wanted more upper body strength primarily. I almost died! He did not go easy on me because I was a girl, or a gym-newbie. He had me working so hard I could not really finish my third set on every machine. And for rest between sets, he had me doing push-ups, arm-circles, weight-lifting and some shoulder hold thingy! That is not rest! When we were done, my arms felt numb.
My lovely trainer then said, "Ok, now do push-ups until you cannot any more." My jaw almost dropped, it did metaphorically for sure. At first I thought he must be joking or punishing me for some mistake I made. I had to reassure myself that I was not in boot camp or a reality TV show. I complied, thinking fine, I will show him how awesome I am at push-ups! Again, that did not go as planned. I could barely go down to the ground at all, and then could not come up either. I gave up at 7, knowing none of them looked good, only pathetic. My trainer was fine with that. "If you had been able to do a lot of push-ups, than it would not have been a successful workout," he explained.
My dream of looking hot at the gym would only be a reality if I were using the word to describe the physical temperature of my body. N one looks sexy when they are breathing hard and struggling to complete three sets of 40 arm circles. I was very glad there were no mirrors around where I could see my face as I hurt my muscles just enough to inspire them to get stronger. I am glad that I did not join the gym to meet men. Wow, what a stupid idea!
A few of my excuses for joining a gym are as follows:
1) I had so much fun swimming in the Mediterranean that I want to swim more regularly,
2) Working out will improve my mood during the winter months,
3) A nice getaway from a mouse-invested house,
4) If I pay for it, I will actually take the time to go and work out, which is something I want to do,
5) I want to try yoga classes, and
6) I want to challenge myself to build up my muscles and flexibility to be even better than I am!
(Hey, those are great reasons! Maybe I should not call them excuses.)
Thankfully, meeting men was not one of my reasons for joining, but the idea did cross my mind as I considered the idea. It is SO cliche to TRY to meet a man at the gym, and so, of course, I wanted to give it a whirl. Before my first visit, I daydreamed about looking super cute in tight pants and a sports bra (which likely would cause some nipping) as I lifted weights and impressed the men (who in my dream, were all super hot, but not too ripped as to seem obscene!). This is not likely going to happen.
My first session involved a free hour with a personal trainer who helped me focus my goals and better plan for my time at the gym in the future. He took me through a workout, focusing on my chest, shoulders and triceps, because I wanted more upper body strength primarily. I almost died! He did not go easy on me because I was a girl, or a gym-newbie. He had me working so hard I could not really finish my third set on every machine. And for rest between sets, he had me doing push-ups, arm-circles, weight-lifting and some shoulder hold thingy! That is not rest! When we were done, my arms felt numb.
My lovely trainer then said, "Ok, now do push-ups until you cannot any more." My jaw almost dropped, it did metaphorically for sure. At first I thought he must be joking or punishing me for some mistake I made. I had to reassure myself that I was not in boot camp or a reality TV show. I complied, thinking fine, I will show him how awesome I am at push-ups! Again, that did not go as planned. I could barely go down to the ground at all, and then could not come up either. I gave up at 7, knowing none of them looked good, only pathetic. My trainer was fine with that. "If you had been able to do a lot of push-ups, than it would not have been a successful workout," he explained.
My dream of looking hot at the gym would only be a reality if I were using the word to describe the physical temperature of my body. N one looks sexy when they are breathing hard and struggling to complete three sets of 40 arm circles. I was very glad there were no mirrors around where I could see my face as I hurt my muscles just enough to inspire them to get stronger. I am glad that I did not join the gym to meet men. Wow, what a stupid idea!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Friday night at The Independent, independently
The first week of October felt more like the end of August, and I had to go out dressed for warm weather one last time. My sister had bought me a ruffled silver mini skirt and I had yet to wear it, so I tried on about 6 different tops to see which looked best. I ended up with the first one I tried, a modest, black tank top. My strappy black heels looked just right with this outfit. I let my hair fall loose around my face, softening my look, hoping to look more ladylike. Or if not ladylike, at least softer.
It was Friday night, but I was tired and had to work Saturday, so I went out somewhat early: about 9:30 pm. I thought my outfit seemed appropriate for Uptown, so I debated over Chino Latino or The Independent. I couldn't decide until I got there and walked to the corner of Hennepin and Lake. The patio of Chino Latino was full, and I knew I would be sitting at the bar if I went inside, but the bar there is not the best place to really watch people. So I went across and entered Calhoun Square. I wondered why I have not yet gone to The Independent, seeing as I have been going out in a show of independence.
I sat at the bar here too, partly because most tables were reserved and partly because that is where I wanted to sit. The bar has chairs with backs instead of stools, so it is very comfortable. I settled into a seat on the corner of the bar facing the entrance so I could see who came and went easily. I ordered a very girly-sounding drink, a Scarlett Margarita, and leaned back.
There was a TV with a baseball game playing; the Giants were up 4-0 over the Braves and it was the top of the fifth. I could not even pretend to enjoy watching that game, so I took out my new little notebook and started to look around me. There were mainly groups and couples around me. Everyone was in their own mini-world, including me; it seemed as if I were behind a two-way mirror (Why is it called a two-way mirror anyways? One way it is a mirror and another way it is a window; this just does not make sense.). I seemed invisible to the other people, except the bartenders saw me. The bartenders asked me how I was doing all the time, three of them kept taking turns, each thinking they were the only one who noticed me perhaps. Did they even realize they were working together?
Is it polite not to stare? I love watching people everywhere I go, and I loved to be looked at; when someone looks at you, you feel real, or at least really present with another human being. I am starting to believe it is more rude not to look at someone. The best part of being with a partner is being seen, staring into each others' eyes. Who cares if people think that is too sappy!? For me, the best thing about being a woman is being able to draw the attention of men...the men driving in cars as I take a walk, the men at the bars who see me drinking alone. Women do not look at men with the same intensity as men look at attractive women. I told someone how much I liked to be looked at by men, and my friend asked me if I were an exhibitionist, but that is not it at all. Being looked at feels good and I am just stating the obvious.
As I looked around, there were men who glanced at me. Men who were in groups, men who were at the bar alone, and even some of the men who were with a woman. None of them were very promising, but it was fun to watch them from behind the wall of sound that filled the bar. I saw another blonde woman sitting across from me at the bar, also alone. Maybe I was really on the mirror side of the two-way mirror? Two guys were sitting a seat away from her and I could see them eyeing her up. One leaned over to talk to her and, although I could not hear anything, she smiled for the first time since she got here, but made it clear she was waiting for someone. I thought she must be either waiting for a date or just pretending to wait for someone as an excuse to get away from the men. But soon, another woman joined her and they instantly created their own little private space that said there was only room for two.
Another twosome of women nearby also had this invisible bubble around them, but when one went to to use the bathroom, the shark-men latched on to the lone lady. When her friend returned and the bubble-power repelled the man and they laughed privately. Did they want the attention or not? Are we women sending mixed-messages men all the time like this? Why do we go to bars to drink, when it is often easier and cheaper to drink at home? Also, why do couples go out to bars together? Is a bar a good date location? I cannot see why?
Drinking is often considered a social lubricant, an aide to making conversation flow. I started to see the bar as a community of different people trying to have interactions with other people. The alcohol slowly started to make people social! As we all continued to imbibe and the bar began to fill up, forcing people to sit closer and closer to each other, the chance to interact with strangers became more and more likely. A group of four came to the bar and asked if I would mind scooting over so they could fit there too. I gladly obliged, but was disappointed that they appeared to be two couples. When they sat down however, the two girls sat down together with the two guys together as well (with the cute one next to me!) and their conversation seemed to be more friendly than "couple-ly."
The less cute one asked me if that was a Crown Royal bag, referring to my purse. I answered in the affirmative and a brief conversation ensued about purple and black bags, and what uses they have had for their Crown Royal bags. Oh how I love my choice of purse! Later on, the cute guy talked to me more and we talked about gyms and other random things. But then, I started to wonder why I was talking to him at all. Would I ever consider dating him? Not really, although I thought he was cute and could imagine sleeping with him. I stopped myself there.
I am not looking for men to sleep with, I am looking for a man who will be my partner in life. This felt good to realize. I know what I want now and I am acting more like the woman I want to be. I can go out and drink alone, have conversations with strangers, but I will still be confident and classy. Finding my partner is something worth waiting for; I will wait with patience and poise. Maybe this thought is what prompted me to leave, I was bored with this scene. Being home, watching a Zooey Deschanel movie, eating popcorn sounded more appealing. I got up, and drove home, content.
It was Friday night, but I was tired and had to work Saturday, so I went out somewhat early: about 9:30 pm. I thought my outfit seemed appropriate for Uptown, so I debated over Chino Latino or The Independent. I couldn't decide until I got there and walked to the corner of Hennepin and Lake. The patio of Chino Latino was full, and I knew I would be sitting at the bar if I went inside, but the bar there is not the best place to really watch people. So I went across and entered Calhoun Square. I wondered why I have not yet gone to The Independent, seeing as I have been going out in a show of independence.
I sat at the bar here too, partly because most tables were reserved and partly because that is where I wanted to sit. The bar has chairs with backs instead of stools, so it is very comfortable. I settled into a seat on the corner of the bar facing the entrance so I could see who came and went easily. I ordered a very girly-sounding drink, a Scarlett Margarita, and leaned back.
There was a TV with a baseball game playing; the Giants were up 4-0 over the Braves and it was the top of the fifth. I could not even pretend to enjoy watching that game, so I took out my new little notebook and started to look around me. There were mainly groups and couples around me. Everyone was in their own mini-world, including me; it seemed as if I were behind a two-way mirror (Why is it called a two-way mirror anyways? One way it is a mirror and another way it is a window; this just does not make sense.). I seemed invisible to the other people, except the bartenders saw me. The bartenders asked me how I was doing all the time, three of them kept taking turns, each thinking they were the only one who noticed me perhaps. Did they even realize they were working together?
Is it polite not to stare? I love watching people everywhere I go, and I loved to be looked at; when someone looks at you, you feel real, or at least really present with another human being. I am starting to believe it is more rude not to look at someone. The best part of being with a partner is being seen, staring into each others' eyes. Who cares if people think that is too sappy!? For me, the best thing about being a woman is being able to draw the attention of men...the men driving in cars as I take a walk, the men at the bars who see me drinking alone. Women do not look at men with the same intensity as men look at attractive women. I told someone how much I liked to be looked at by men, and my friend asked me if I were an exhibitionist, but that is not it at all. Being looked at feels good and I am just stating the obvious.
As I looked around, there were men who glanced at me. Men who were in groups, men who were at the bar alone, and even some of the men who were with a woman. None of them were very promising, but it was fun to watch them from behind the wall of sound that filled the bar. I saw another blonde woman sitting across from me at the bar, also alone. Maybe I was really on the mirror side of the two-way mirror? Two guys were sitting a seat away from her and I could see them eyeing her up. One leaned over to talk to her and, although I could not hear anything, she smiled for the first time since she got here, but made it clear she was waiting for someone. I thought she must be either waiting for a date or just pretending to wait for someone as an excuse to get away from the men. But soon, another woman joined her and they instantly created their own little private space that said there was only room for two.
Another twosome of women nearby also had this invisible bubble around them, but when one went to to use the bathroom, the shark-men latched on to the lone lady. When her friend returned and the bubble-power repelled the man and they laughed privately. Did they want the attention or not? Are we women sending mixed-messages men all the time like this? Why do we go to bars to drink, when it is often easier and cheaper to drink at home? Also, why do couples go out to bars together? Is a bar a good date location? I cannot see why?
Drinking is often considered a social lubricant, an aide to making conversation flow. I started to see the bar as a community of different people trying to have interactions with other people. The alcohol slowly started to make people social! As we all continued to imbibe and the bar began to fill up, forcing people to sit closer and closer to each other, the chance to interact with strangers became more and more likely. A group of four came to the bar and asked if I would mind scooting over so they could fit there too. I gladly obliged, but was disappointed that they appeared to be two couples. When they sat down however, the two girls sat down together with the two guys together as well (with the cute one next to me!) and their conversation seemed to be more friendly than "couple-ly."
The less cute one asked me if that was a Crown Royal bag, referring to my purse. I answered in the affirmative and a brief conversation ensued about purple and black bags, and what uses they have had for their Crown Royal bags. Oh how I love my choice of purse! Later on, the cute guy talked to me more and we talked about gyms and other random things. But then, I started to wonder why I was talking to him at all. Would I ever consider dating him? Not really, although I thought he was cute and could imagine sleeping with him. I stopped myself there.
I am not looking for men to sleep with, I am looking for a man who will be my partner in life. This felt good to realize. I know what I want now and I am acting more like the woman I want to be. I can go out and drink alone, have conversations with strangers, but I will still be confident and classy. Finding my partner is something worth waiting for; I will wait with patience and poise. Maybe this thought is what prompted me to leave, I was bored with this scene. Being home, watching a Zooey Deschanel movie, eating popcorn sounded more appealing. I got up, and drove home, content.
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