I <3 me?

At first glance, you'd never guess I have all the insecurities that I do. I appear well adjusted and happy. This is the carefully manipulated image I like to project to the world.

And in truth, this IS the girl I want to be. Unfortunately, I have spent so many years telling myself how ugly and worthless I am that I've only been able to experience these "I'm hot!" feelings when in a steady relationship. I make the men in my life responsible for my self esteem...even within two weeks of meeting them.

(Sheesh...no wonder Crossfit was feeling a little pressure from me. We've hung out 3 times and I already expect him to carry the weight of my self worth.)

This all sounds depressingly Debbie Downer-esque, right?

WRONG!

You know what the greatest part of these self realizations I'm having? The only person who can change those feelings....IS ME!

If I want 'permission' to feel good about myself, guess what? I can give it! I'm ready to take responsibility for my own happiness. It is much easier to point to someone else, or the lack of a "someone else" in my life and say, 'This is who is making me feel bad.' This gives me a tangible person to be mad at and funnel all my anger towards. Why examine your own shortcomings when you can blame them on someone else?

But when there's so much defeat, anger and blame in my heart, there is not much space leftover to fill with love for another person. It's no wonder I've had a bunch of incomplete relationships. My own relationship with myself is incomplete!

That changes now.

Starting today I'm going to believe my own hype. Pat myself on the back. Toot my own horn.

The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. If you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous,

LL

P.S. - I've enjoyed sharing this epiphany with you, but we will now return to our regularly scheduled dating disasters and dumb ass-ery.

False Advertising

Sometimes a friend can say something that gives me such clarity I wonder what I'm paying my therapist $150 an hour for. I'm talking one of those 'A HA!' moments that stuns me into silence by the simplistic elegance of the widsom that was just imparted.

A couple of weeks ago I had one of those days.

My own personal 'guru' came to visit me at work and, as it often does, when two girls in their 20's get together, the subject turned to men. I was discussing Crossfit and the tiff we had had earlier in the week. I had been feeling unsettled since our 'words' and needed to air out those anxieties to someone who knew me and all of my, ahem, nuances. (read: craziness)

I replayed every conversation we'd had, analyzed the tone, hell, even dissected the emoticons used in every IM. I worked myself into such a frenzy I was practically pacing behind my desk.

Then I paused.

"I have completely lost my mind, haven't I?" I asked my friend.

She, being the diplomatic friend that she is, said, "Well no...not exactly...but you are advertising one thing and selling another."

I was confused by this metaphor (ironic given that I work in the advertising business) and my face must've said as much.

She explained it this way: prior to meeting one of my online conquests my expectations are non existent. If a presentable looking gentleman who's taller than 5'6 walks in, I consider the night a success. With this attitude I come across as footloose and fancy free mostly due to sheer relief. On that first date I am completely in the moment and totally (ok, mostly) myself. This is the girl I pride myself on being. I'm fun, funny, laid back, confident, sexy....in other words, a great date.

However! The problems start when I decide I like a guy and in my head I think, 'Oh yes! This is the one I'll finally have a deep and meaningful relationship with! Let the sharing begin!'

It's like turning on the radio expecting to hear Lady Gaga only to have Celine Dion blasting through your speakers instead.

When she explained it this way I was stunned into silence. Where the hell has my therapist been hiding that epiphany?! This is exactly what I do! And exactly what I need to stop doing!

WHY DID IT TAKE ME 27 YEARS TO FIGURE IT OUT?!?!?!?!?!

This is of course indicative of a bigger issue and that is why I don't love myself. I think I hide this incredibly well but by date 2, as indicated by Crossfit's 'Hey you need to calm the hell down' pep talk, guys are able to pick up on it. As I've said before, I'm looking for someone to save me from myself.

With ten hours of traveling for the holidays behind me, I had a lot of time to think about this. But right now I'm all self examined out and all I'm in need of is some leftover Christmas cookies.

A wise man once said the only way to true happiness is to live in the moment and not worry about the future. Of course, he died penniless and single,
LL

It's not you, it's me.

Since the little tiff between Crossfit and I things have been different. Instead of backing off as I probably should've, I instead became "that girl" and clung harder. I constantly do this after second dates if I like someone. I build them up SO MUCH in my head that I become, ugh and it pains me to admit this, desperate for them to like me. I convince myself that, and this is after 2 dates remember, this person is PERFECT for me and I MUST make it work. Bad idea.

First of all, as some friends have pointed out, I should be looking at a person to see if *I* think they are worthy of *me*. Instead, I give them ALL the power, tell myself they're perfect, and start to panic they'll realize that I'm not that cool and then I'll be alone again. This is not attractive. Crossfit annoyed me when he was all, "Oh I like you, I can't wait to meet you, blah blah blah" but yet when I'm doing that a week later I expect him to respond favorably to it. The world doesn't work that way my friends.

What triggered all this self examination, and hopefully the actual taking of my own advice, is that Crossfit told me today that I come on way too strong for him. It's funny, because on Friday when a friend and I were talking about my woes and insecurities about him, she told me I was too available to him, and asked why I stopped just having fun. Clearly, she makes a good point based on Crossfit and my conversation this morning.

He and I left it at taking a step back. Which is good. Yesterday we worked out together and I was even thinking to myself, wait a second, why I am SO gaga over this guy? He's a bit of a know it all and that annoys me. Which is fine, we all have our quirks, but it just doesn't make sense for me to get so nutso over him when I hardly even KNOW him. I know it's my own insecurities at play: I WANT to be in a relationship, I am sick of being single and I base my self esteem on feeling loved. But, as the same wise friend who told me I'm too available said, I CAN feel loved...by ME. As the cliche goes, no one will love you until you love yourself. I project to the outside world that I love myself and on the first date I come across as a confident, fun, together kind of gal. But once I start to like someone and trust them a little bit, I throw all my cards on the table and let them see my insecurities. I want them to rescue me from myself. Not attractive, my friends.

I appreciate Crossfit's honesty and am going to use it to help myself change some of these behaviors that are detrimental to my new relationships. Not for him, but for ME. I don't even know if I like this dude. I like the idea of him, but him? I dunno. So I am going to work on taking back my own power and figuring out if *I* like a guy, and stop worrying so much if I can "get" him to "choose" me.

I'm not saying this will be easy. I have operated like this for most of my life. It's probably a large part of why I'm alone now. But being aware of it is the first step to change. And holding myself accountable to some kind of "audience" helps. I almost didn't post about this because I was embarrassed. Rejection is embarrassing. But if I don't address it, nothing will change, and if I want happiness, it seems change is necessary.

And with that I say, ONWARD!

When you are through changing, you are through,
LL

S&R (sex and regrets)

I was raised by parents who, while not hippies (My name is not Willow and I do not have an affinity for hemp), definitely reflected some of their hippie-era attitudes in my upbringing. For instance, I have very liberal attitudes towards sex. My parents treated it as no big deal and once I got that pesky "first time" out of the way, I realized they were right.

As such, I've had my share of one night stands and don't regret any of them. As the motto of the 70's went, "if it feels good, do it." Don't get me wrong, I'm not putting out to any dude that glances in my direction, but I'm not saving myself for the one, nor do I have any desire to. Heck, I don't even regret sleeping with Muscles, even though he dropped me like a hot potato post mattress mambo. (good god, how many cliches can I fit into one sentence? I sound like a Cosmo article.)

Crossfit, however? I regret.

Apparently Muscles messed me up a little more than I first admitted to myself. I don't feel used by him, I don't think the sex was the reason he dropped me, I think he would've bailed whether we had slept together or not. So, as I said, I don't regret the physical act of sleeping with him. But, due to how I've been acting with Crossfit post hook up, I'm realizing Muscles' idiotic actions are making me insecure about Crossfit.

He's been busy this week and as such, not as attentive as he was prior to our even meeting. This behavior reminds me of how Muscles acted right before he dropped me, and it is making me freak out. I am becoming "that girl" I have always prided myself on NOT being.

Last night, I picked a fight with him. As we have seen, this is what I am prone to do when I like a guy (i.e. Millionaire) but usually I'm able to control this crazy behavior til we've been seeing each other a few months. Last night however? I couldn't help myself.

Earlier in the day we had been talking about my friends' holiday party Crossfit was supposed to be my date for this weekend. He was now canceling because he didn't feel he had any nice enough clothes to wear and he couldn't afford to get anything he had tailored. (He's lost weight and put on muscle in the past year so he says nothing fits) I was REALLY looking forward to taking him with me so yeah, I was bummed. This also started setting off warning bells in my head of, "Uh oh, here it is. He's going to slowly start distancing himself until he feels he can kick me to the curb without looking like TOO much of a jerk."

Later, we had our office holiday party and yes, I had had a few glasses of champagne. When I get a little tipsy I also get a little flirty so I started texting Crossfit asking if he wanted to come over later. He said maybe and I said I'd check in with him when the party was over. When I did, he said he was all tucked in and hadn't planned on leaving the house. (Um...so why'd you say maybe you'd come over?) I said cool, g'night, and he picked up on my hostility and said "uh oh, you're pissed aren't you? Night." I said "no, I'm not pissed, just feel stupid, that's all."

That's when he got nasty. He said "Sorry, I don't do guilt. I did nothing to make you feel stupid." I didn't want to get into it all via text, "Actually, yes you did, because you're rejecting me now that we've slept together when for the past 2 months you've been hounding me worse than the paparazzi hounds Britney," so I just said, whoa, why the hostility? I don't want to fight. We are having so much fun, why fight? He said he agreed but thought that what I was saying was starting something. I said that I was sorry if it came off that way, I was just feeling vulnerable.

THEN he starts with, "I'm going to guess you drank. You've never talked like this before."

Ohhhhh NO you don't my friend. Don't get all holier than thou on me when you've only known me in "real life" for a WEEK, and all of our other communication has been limited to gchat. Not. OK.

I told him to knock it off and that there was way too much to get into via text but basically, the last online guy I'd dated had dropped me like a bad habit once we slept together so I am overly sensitive that that's what he's going to do too. (And yes, I am cringing as I type this. Pathetic, party of one, your table is now ready.) He said ok but then I needed to stop talking like this and I said fine, NO hard feelings? And he said nope, not at all, g'night.

So. First fight survived but I still can't help feeling unstable about it all. (as in, unstable about where I stand with him, not "the men in white coats are coming!" unstable) I really wish I hadn't slept with him so fast because then I think I'd be much more chill about him, instead of what I'm doing now which is worrying that it's only a matter of time til he decides he's done with me and tosses me aside. This is a new feeling because usually I think of sex as such a non-issue and honestly? I don't like it.

The feeling I mean, not sex.

I am going to try to calm myself down and SLOW things down with him. It will be good for me to not be in town next week, and I am not going to be the one to initiate our next hanging out. My ego is feeling wounded by his canceling on me for this weekend plus the pseudo fight last night, so the next move is up to him.

In the mean time, I'll just be "sexting" Crikey to distract myself.

Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble,
LL

Sickness, the holidays, and Crossfit

Once again, I apologize for my absence. I'm sure my grand total of 3 readers has now dropped to 2. Boo hiss.

Due to a mysterious illness just in time for Thanksgiving that made me feel decidedly UNSEXY, all dating was on an indefinite hiatus. I had had one date scheduled over the long holiday weekend with Crossfit, a gentleman I have briefly mentioned before, but which I had to cancel due to my all around grossness.

I've only mentioned Crossfit briefly because honestly, I never thought I'd meet him. But here's a litte Crossfit background: he first "winked" at me (via the dating site)and I ignored him. My initial reaction to him was, "Whoa, this hot guy is interested in ME?" because he IS gorgeous. However! His main profile picture was a professional headshot which in this town means actor. And actor is number one on my list of dating don'ts.

(I hope none of you industry folk reading this are taking this personally. It's just that I work with actors on a daily basis and thus, have no desire to date them.)

Anyway. Inspired one day by the lack of activity my profile had received, I went and looked at the dudes who had initiated some kind of contact that I had not been all that into. I took the time to read Crossfit's profile and despite multiple headshots, it seemed he was not in "the biz." Plus he had a doofy looking black lab in some of his pics, and I am a sucker for a dopey looking dog. So I winked back.

After a few emails we began talking on gchat. This was shortly after Muscles dropped me like a bad habit so I was looking to distract myself and lick my wounds. I enjoyed talking to him but then he told me that he was actually in Canada for a month or so and once again, my interest waned. If he's not even in the same area code the chances of his helping me nurse my bruised ego were slim. I am an instant gratification kind of girl and this guy did not fit into that plan.

We continued to chat online and before I knew it he was back in LA and asking me to hang out. My head was wrapped around Millionaire and thus, I was in no rush. Plus, Crossfit had waved a big red flag at me: much like Muscles, he was semi unemployed. As I mentioned in a previous post, Crossfit is trying to break into the same internet business that Millionaire is already established and successful in. Having seen how Millionaire approaches his work, and hearing Crossfit's ideas, I just didn't feel all that confident in Crossfit's abilities so, as I said, I was in no rush.

The more we talked online the more I started to enjoy him and, despite my friends warnings, I decided coffee with him wouldn't hurt. I knew I wasn't going to be into him, but I enjoyed talking to him, and if his internet biz took off, hey, maybe he'd hire me.

We met last Wednesday at a coffee shop in Beverly Hills. I, in my usual fashion, was running late. As I practically ran up to our meeting place he greeted me with a big hug. A hug so big he even picked me up and spun me around.

H-O-T my friends.

I LOVE a guy who can make me feel small and feminine, which is not easy given my Harlem Globetrotter-esque height. I had expected him to be about 6 feet tall since every other guy, with the exception of Muscles, that I've met from the site has been that tall or a few inches shorter. So this was a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

In the light of the coffee shop I was reminded of just how HOT this guy was. Whew. Not in a Muscles, fake tan, overly Muscle-y way, but in a genuinely handsome, classic, nice looking kind of way. As I get older I am finding this kind of handsome-ness WAY more intriguing and attractive than the pretty boys I used to be into. The score so far: Crossfit - 2, my judgementalness - 0.

We spent the next 2 hours talking about everything and anything. Conversation flowed easily, he was affectionate in an appropriate way, and he smelled delicious. I was also a little surprised at how intelligent he was. From some of his grandiose ideas he had talked about in regards to his business I got the feeling he was a bit of a space cadet, but in person he was not at all. And he had an incredibly sexy voice. Yum.

At the end of the date he whispered to me, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I might kind of LIKE you." Ughhhhhh there dude, you had to go and blow it. I know, I know. He likes me. That's good, right?!

Wrong.

I mean. It IS good. But when a guy tells me he likes me so soon, it skeeves me out. I realize this makes no sense. It's my own insecurities at play. I think, hey, this guy likes me after knowing me ten minutes? What's wrong with him?!

I was explaining all of this to my therapist the following day and she, in her wise therapist ways, said,

"Wait a second. You sit here every week and tell me you want a guy who adores you, who wants to hang out with you, who makes an effort and time for you, and then you find a guy who seems ready to do that and you go, 'Ugh.' You can't have it both ways."

She makes an excellent point. (dammit)

We had plans to hang out Saturday and instead of rolling my eyes and thinking, this guy is so NOT for me, I decided to embrace my geeky feelings of "like", no matter how scary they may be. I sent him a text earlier in the day telling him how excited I was to see him that night.

Then promptly had an anxiety attack.

What if he thinks I'm a huge geek and way too into him? What if he's so busy attempting to break Tiger Woods' record for most number of mistresses that he responds "Who are you?"

Fortunately, he said he had been thinking about it non stop too. WHEW.

Saturday night was AWESOME. We had a totally low key night and I felt so comfortable and so....happy! That sounds cheesy but it's true. There was no censoring myself, second guessing everything he was saying, trying to make sure I was acting the right way and saying all the right things....I was just ME. And he liked me as me. From past dating experiences and relationships, I have not always had this feeling of security and acceptance so to feel it was exciting yet calming at the same time.

He spent the night. Ahem. I know, I know, I know! It was only the second date but I couldn't help myself! I feel good about ME when I'm with him. Someone who can make me feel like that is apparently a huge turn on. Who knew?!

I have already asked him to come to a Christmas party with me this weekend where he will be meeting a bunch of my gay friends. This is quite the test. I haven't brought any of the guys from this online dating experience around to meet my boys. You think women are judgemental? Try gay men. They will tell you EXACTLY what they think and, much to my dismay, they're usually right. So to want them to meet him already means he may be something special.

Or at least, I hope he is.

Women might be able to fake orgasms but men can fake whole relationships,
LL

Sex & the Holidays

OK, I apologize. I've slacked on the blogging. It's been a combination of factors: I'm tired of dating, I've been sick, and I'm just plain LAZY. But I'm trying to push past that and keep moving forward. If not for me than for you, my readers. All three of you.

I am a holiday FREAK. I love every over commercialized little detail of them. Advertisers know this and prey on lonely souls like myself with their nauseating jewelry, flower, and luxury car commercials.

(Though has anyone seen the creepy new Kay jewelers ad that takes place in the cabin in the woods? Am I the only person screaming at the woman "RUN bitch! He is going to take that diamond necklace and STRANGLE YOU WITH IT!")

I am clearly not the only one feeling these pangs of desire for someone special at the holidays as was evidenced by the amount of activity my profile received on Thanksgiving day. One thing I've learned in the online dating scene is that after awhile it's like going to a bar and seeing the "regulars." Although your responses may be overwhelming at first after a few months it takes much more of an effort to meet new people and seek out the new faces on your chosen dating site.

On Thanksgiving however, I received 4 new contacts. No one I'm interested in but still, it was an interesting phenomenon to observe. It made me kind of sad actually. I was lucky to spend Thanksgiving surrounded by friends, phone calls from family, and good food. Sure, I would've liked to have someone to snuggle up to after dinner for a tryptophan induced nap, but I was also perfectly happy sitting with my dog on the couch and watching Fa La La La Lifetime.

I'll admit, I'm tired of being single. When I was younger I was not a relationship person. In fact, I ran from them. In some ways, I suppose I still do. But I'm trying to push past that so that I can find the happiness I know is possible with another person. In the mean time though, I'm realizing how lucky I am to have a large group of friends who love and care for me as much as they do. Not everyone has that.

Hallmark wants you to believe that you can't possibly have a happy holiday without the hot man and the diamond necklace, and for years, I have agreed with them. But this Thanksgiving I was able to step back and appreciate what I DO have and not what I don't.

And THAT, is what I am thankful for.
LL

For Love or Money?

One thing I like about the dating site I am on is that when doing a search for your matches you can specify what level of income you would like them to have. This may sound shallow to most, but after living in LA for four years and realizing you must have a small fortune in order to own even a mediocre house in the valley, it is an important consideration to some. Like me.

My experiences with Muscles and Millionaire, and my past relationships, have caused me to notice a certain trend among the “haves” and the “have nots” that I have dated. Typically, the guys who are well off are held to less stringent physical attraction standards than those who are renting crappy Hollywood apartments and living paycheck to paycheck like me. The question I’m asking myself now is: is that a bad thing?

Relationship studies show that among the top five things couples fight about are, you guessed it, money and sex. What is more important to the success of my own long term personal relationships: a feeling of security and financial stability, or a red hot sex life?
Having dated both rich and poor men, I have learned a few things about myself that, to some, may not seem romantic or embodying the true meaning of love.

Money, to me, is more important than sex. There. I said it. Let the judging begin.

This is not an easy thing to admit and it’s something within myself that I have fought against vehemently. But this dating experience, and this blog, are forcing me to think about issues that aren’t the most Harlequin romance novel friendly.

Sex with Millionaire is good, don’t get me wrong, but do I have those “oh-my-god-I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off” feelings towards him? Nope. I’m attracted to him, yes, and I could never be with a guy I was repulsed at the thought of touching, no matter how many zeros are in his bank account. But could I be with a guy who’s bank account came dangerously close to zero any time a financial emergency happened (a dog gets sick, a car needs a major repair, etc)? Nope.

While I am very much a “I am woman, hear me roar” type, I am also ok with the old fashioned notion of the man as the provider. Am I willing to sit at home making sure I have dinner on the table at six and hand him his Manhattan when he walks in the door, forsaking all interests of my own? Hell to the no. Do I feel more secure and protected in a relationship with a man who’s wealthy? Absolutely. I am not supposed to admit this because it supposedly sets the feminism movement back 20 years.

Also, when I think of the reality of sexual chemistry, I just don’t see it as sustainable long term. After 20 years with a person, sex is going to become a bit routine. Yes, there are ways to spice it up, and there is a comfort in that routine-ness that only comes with being with the same person day in and day out. But when you’ve lost your job and the mortgage is due, that chemistry is going to get put on the (Bunsen) back burner real quick.

Does this make me uncomfortable to think about? Sure, because I don’t want people to be “sayin’ I’m a gold digger.” I still have standards and wouldn’t ever want to be with someone as crazy as Glenn Beck or Bill O’Reilly simply because he’s got millions. But, in the long run, I think that a key to success in my long term relationship/marriage, will be in the form of financial security and not just sexual satisfaction. I am not sitting there passing the time until I find a man who can take care of me, but I also don’t have grandiose ideas that my current job is going to allow me to buy a house and live the comfortable life I look forward to living. Is hot sex going to be able to take the place of a roof over my head with someone I love hanging out with but don’t feel the need to throw on the kitchen floor and have my way with him? For me, the answer is no.

Et tu, Brutus?

Somewhere there is the most beautiful woman in the world….and a man who’s tired of sleeping with her,
LL

*$#@*!(#!!

Oooh boy. Just had a close call.

One thing I haven’t quite figured out is what one is supposed to say while dating multiple people. If someone asks me point blank, “Are you seeing other people?” then of course I’m going to be honest with them. But then there are other situations that are somewhat of a gray area. Allow me to explain.

Crossfit, whom I have not yet talked about because I just don’t know if I’m all that into him or even care to meet him, is trying to start this online business. This business is, coincidentally, the same business that Millionaire has already achieved success in. I mentioned to him that I dated a guy who was very successful in the realm he was trying to break into.

He says, “Was it [Millionaire’s name]?”

Oh. Shit. What if they’re friends?! What if he notices I said “datED” not “datING.” (A nuance I’m sure only super literal, over analytical people like myself notice.)

Proceed to panic mode. Do not pass Go. Do not stop and pick up condoms.

Why am I panicking? Because things with Millionaire and I are starting to go well! I don’t want to screw this up just because I simply didn’t know the dating etiquette for how to talk to people about other people you are dating. Though now it is painfully obvious that you just DON’T.

I don’t care if one guy you’re dating has won the title of ping pong champion of Louisiana and guy number two mentions he was the first runner up for the title of ping pong champion of Louisiana, you smile, nod, and act like you’ve never heard of the topic before.

After a few more minutes of freaking out and worrying that he wasn’t answering my chat message because he was on the phone to Millionaire telling him what a funny coincidence he’d just run into, Crossfit relieves all my stress. Turns out he and Millionaire have a mutual friend who has suggested to Crossfit that he talk to Millionaire about the business. But, Crossfit being a man, he has decided he wants to make it a success through his own hard work and stubbornness, not with help from anyone else.

Crisis averted. Heartbeat has returned to normal.

Here endeth the lesson,
LL

Oh, karma.

Crikey canceled.

BOOOOOOO CRIKEY!!!

To be fair, I canceled on a guy I call Crossfit (and have not yet talked about) on Saturday because we had a work out date. I just felt too insecure and ugly to meet the guy for the first time with my hair up, sweating like a pig. So karma is teaching me a little lesson.

No reason, just a brief message saying, "I think we were supposed to hang out tonight, right? Right? Well, I'm going to have to put it on ice because I have a thing at 8. I'll call you after?"

Lame.

P.S. - The accent is still hot.

Millionaire and me: our first fight

Well, kinda.

At his regular schedule of 5pm, Millionaire texted me to see if I wanted to hang out last night. Seriously, I could set my watch by the guy, it's astounding. If my phone dings within 5 minutes of 5pm, I know it's him.

My patience has been wearing thin with these Rainman-like tendencies of Millionaire. But whatever, I wasn't doing anything else with my night, so why not? Shocking, he invites me over. I had pilates earlier in the evening and was so annoyed with feeling like a booty call that I didn't even bother prettying myself up, I just went as is.

Millionaire broke his ankle two weeks ago and I hadn't seen him since he got on his crutches. There IS something about a helpless man that brings out my softer side and he was no exception. He looked so annoyed and frustrated as he hobbled along that I couldn't help but be a little sympathetic. We were texting so I could find where in his massive house he was and I headed down to his office where he and a few of his buddies/employees were hanging out.

Last night while hanging out with all of them, I realized something: Millionaire is a huge geek. As much as he plays it cool with his big house, fancy cars, and three word text messages, in the end, he's just a geek playing dress up. And I like that. He and his friend got into a big argument/discussion about art and subjectivity and then moved onto religion. It was really interesting to listen to and I agree with a lot of the ways Millionaire thinks about things. And the guy is SMART. He was citing all these Bible references and applying them to modern day Christians' justifications for their behavior to support his thoughts. It was really impressive to me to see the sheer amount of knowledge he has in his head about a variety of things and how clear and concisely he was able to argue his point.

After awhile, we said goodbye to his friends and headed back into the main part of his house. It was close to 11pm and I was NOT feeling like putting up with Millionaire's awkward seduction techniques so I said I had to go. He argued with me that earlier in the night I had said I had to leave around 11ish and it was only 10:45 so I didn't need to leave yet.

Then, I kind of lost it and the following conversation/yellsation ensued:

Me: "Why do I have to leave? Because I'm TIRED of feeling like a booty call!"
Millionaire: "Oh my god. This again. WHY do you feel like a booty call?"
Me: "Because you call me every 2 weeks and we always have sex when I see you. You decide you want to hang out 2 hours before that hanging out is going to take place and I'm just supposed to drop everything to fit into your schedule?! How can I NOT feel like a booty call?!"
Millionaire: "I TRY to see you more than once every 2 weeks but you're always so BUSY!"

Then he started reading me text messages we've exchanged where he asks me to do something and I say I'm busy. Which I explained was because I hate his last minute-ness. Then he tries to pull this:

Millionaire: "You know, I broke my ankle 2 weeks ago and you said that you would come and see me and take care of me. That would've been nice. But then on Sunday I texted you asking if you wanted to come over and you're like, I have plans tonight, pilates tomorrow...how about Thursday? THURSDAY?! If the situation was REVERSED and YOU had broken YOUR ankle and I said I couldn't see you til Thursday, you'd be pissed, wouldn't you?!
Me: "Actually, I don't even think it would've occurred to me to call you and tell you that I had broken my ankle because I wouldn't think you would care!"
Millionaire: "Why would I not care?!"
Me: "Because I think you're only into me for sex!"
Millionaire: "ARGHHHHHH!"

I'll spare you the rest of the boring (loudly yelled) details, but I feel like I made actual progress with him. I explained to him that it made me feel shitty when he wouldn't answer my text messages for 2 days, or that he waits til the last minute to schedule things with me. He, in turn, explained that he continues to call me because he likes hanging out with me, AND he likes sleeping with me and isn't that what two people who like each other and are dating want to do? Lastly,he told me it makes him feel shitty that he's always the one initiating things and his feelings were hurt that I hadn't come to see him right after he broke his ankle.

So, basically, there's a lot of miscommunication between us. I think it's because we're so similarly guarded in our feelings that we just keep things to ourselves instead of saying hey wait a second, this sucks, I'd like this to change. I feel like I have a MUCH clearer idea of where I stand with him now and much less afraid to talk to him about how I feel. When all was said and done he announced, "We are good arguers. That was fun." I agree.

To finish off the evening we had some of that good sex we both enjoy. And then we were laying in bed talking about Christmas and started singing Feliz Navidad.

I kid you not.

I like this guy.

I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas,
LL

Crikey and my dad

I’ve got a date Wednesday with the gentleman on the JV squad that I call Crikey. He’s the one who’s from South Africa and has the cute, British-esque sounding accent. (and yes, only AFTER naming him did I realize Crikey is Australian, not British or anything remotely close to South African) Last night,After 3 or 4 rounds of phone tag we finally chatted without the aid of a backspace button.

He’s already been categorized into the “hot” category because of that charming accent. Seriously guys. If you can fake a British/Australian/South African accent: DO IT. I think god gave the British that accent to make up for their horrendous teeth so if it can get those guys laid, think of what it will do for you.

Anyway. Crikey’s adorable. He’s funny, interesting, and appropriately curious about me. We were talking about our jobs and when I asked him what he does it made me swoon even more. He’s the head of security for a well known celebrity couple that will remain nameless. The celebrity didn’t impress me as much as his being head of security did. I may act tough and all Miss Independent, but secretly, I like a macho caveman type who can drag me by my hair back to his cave. And with Crikey’s 6’2 stature, big muscles, and security heading skills? He may be just the guy to do that. YUM.

Oh, and lest you be wary that he’s just some over testosterone driven meathead, he further charmed me when talking about his employers and how genuinely in love they are. He said their relationship sets a very high bar for his own love life because he thinks the two of them prove that true love really exists, even after all the years they’ve been together. Curses. The guy knows what kind of sweet talk will work on this girl!

I was in a great mood after our phone call. Such a great mood that when I checked my email and saw an email from my parents, I mentioned him in my message back to them. Nothing serious, just that I had this date on Wednesday with this adorable South African guy. I also told my mom what he did because she loves that Hollywood gossip stuff.

I awoke this morning to an email from my father saying this:

I hope your Wednesday night is a nice guy.
I have heard mixed reviews as some of these guys come here as refuges and want to be sweet but are psychologically damaged and dangerous from all the violence they experienced in childhood.

It’s official. My dad has finally lost his mind.

Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it everyday,
LL

Seriously?

OK, now I've heard it all. Actual line used to hit on me today:

"Hey baby, you taller than most buildings in LA. How YOU doin?"

Wow....just....wow.

Out of Africa

Out of Africa is a man who wastes no time; a characteristic I appreciate. After a week or so of emailing he asked me out for drinks. Enjoying the witty banter we were exchanging I agreed. He picked a nice place "near my house"...which was actually a good 20 minutes away. Oh well, typical man, would sell his play off tickets before he'd ask for directions. I looked up the restaurant he had chosen and it looked hip but not too pretentious so no complaints. (no really....the comment about the 20 minutes away was just an observation, not a complaint. Big difference.)

I was running a few minutes late, thanks to the combination of being a woman and LA traffic, but didn't veer into "rude" territory. A nice change I've noticed within myself thanks to all this dating is that it's become such a routine thing I don't get nervous anymore. Well. That may be a SLIGHT exaggeration, but you know what I mean. I used to practically need two Xanax to calm me down before a date, but now? No sweat my pet.

Anyway, I arrive and Out of Africa is waiting for me on the porch outside the restaurant. Nice manners, I like it. He gives me a warm hug, he passes the good smelling man check, and inside we go. Conversation is a little bumpy at first, as it is, but it flows with minimal awkwardness. He asks me what I'd like to drink and I follow his liquor drinking lead and order a cranberry and vodka. He then asks me what kind of vodka I prefer. Um. Somehow I think "the cheapest one?" is not the right answer. He picks up on my cluelessness and rescues me by choosing Belvedere. Definitely a step up from the Smirnoff I am sure I am usually sucking down at a bar where I'm paying for my own beverages. Thumbs up.

We discuss the usual first date things and he's very good about balancing questions about me with info about himself. When we order some appetizers to share I tell him I like my steak very well done. He cringes but jokes with the bartender that if that's what the lady wants, that's what we will get and he will be absolutely happy with it. It's cute and jokey and has a nice feeling of familiarity to it.

The rest of the date continues on along the same lines. I wish I had some disaster story to report to entertain you, but I really have no complaints. I don't really have anything to gush about either. So far it seems all the dates I've gone have been good. But none of them have been knock your socks off "oh I hope I hear from him again" good. This is both good and bad. Good because I've definitely met interesting people and increased my self esteem because these guys are nice, good looking, successful men who are interested in me. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed that I haven't met someone whom I am totally excited about. (minus Muscl--excuse me, Asshole, but we see how well that worked out) It's not even a let down when I don't hear from them again. I kind of forget about most of them after the date. (well...after the blog about them is written)

I don't think this says anything about me or about the men I'm seeing, it's just a new experience for me that I think may be unique to online dating. The guys I've dated in the past have all been guys I've met through friends, through work/school, or out. Regardless of how I met them, there was always some kind of initial attraction involved prior to our actually going on a date. Three dimensional attraction I mean. It's one thing to look at a picture online and think someone is attractive but that feeling of chemistry? No matter how many emails, texts, and pictures are exchanged, you can't predict whether that will be there or not. While this online dating thing is as convenient as running to the grocery store and picking whatever I am craving at that exact moment, it, like store made sushi, can also leave me with a bad case of gas.

I kid, I kid.

But what I'm saying is that finding someone you connect with in this big bad world is not as easy as a monthly payment of $39.99. But until you find that person, why not enjoy the ego boosts and order the most expensive thing on the menu?

I'm in favor of love as long as it doesn't happen when “The Simpsons” is on television,

LL

The JV Squad

First off, my apologies for the delay in posting. Was a bit overwhelmed by life last week and the wittiness just wasn't there. Nor were the dates. But I'm back now and ready for action! (after the third date that is...)

I realized last week that my man "rotation" had dwindled down to one: Millionaire. While I enjoy him and am still curious about him, I am not one to put all my eggs in one basket....wow. That cliche takes on a whole new meaning when you are talking about dating and sex doesn't it? Ahem. Millionaire being the only stud in my stable made me nervous so it was time to head back to the rodeo.

First up? A guy I like to call Out of Africa. Why? Well...because he grew up in Africa. Logically. I had looked at his profile a few times but not his additional pics. Finally something made me do that and well hello handsome! Where have you been hiding? The additional pics were much more flattering than the main pic so he either has great photoshop skills or is easy on the eyes. I'm hoping for the latter.

In the position of center on my B team is a guy who's 6'7. The height instantly caught my eye but his emails are making me nauseous, and not in a good way. Exhibit A:

"I enjoy white wine too, but I usually don't drink it in the evening. However I love to pop that cool... crisp... Chardonnay on a hot and sunny sunday afternoon~out on a shaded patio where the scent of lavender and sweet honey-suckle lift our thoughts as conversation inspires~ The Sea is near~breeze is soft and salty on our lips... :) "

Seriously ladies? Are we that pathetic that men think we find this kind of crap ATTRACTIVE? If I am EVER turned on by this kind of talk someone do me a favor and just back over my head. Twice. I have no idea what I will do if I meet him and he actually talks like this in person. I DO know that I will be sure to bring cab fare on our date in case I laugh in his face and get stranded at some hippy dippy new age-y bar where they make their cocktails from whole wheat vodka and air. My roommate thinks he is kidding and knows how ridiculous he sounds. I can only hope.

Finally we have my favorite of the bunch: Crikey. He's from South Africa. His accent sounds British to me, hence the nickname. (and I just managed to offend an entire continent of people with that ignorant comment, didn't I? Awesome.) He's funny, in great shape, and an American citizen. No looking for a quickie green card marriage here, whew. Oh and he's tall but not freakishly tall like the Harlequin wannabe detailed above.

So there you have it. The debutante post of, hopefully, the next few dates. Now you just get to sit back and enjoy while they make fools of me, themselves, and the institution we call dating.

God created men because vibrators can't mow the lawn,
LL

Owl City

Holy hangover, Batman.

One of the few good things that Muscles gave me (besides an orgasm) is an appreciation for this singer/group/I don’t know called Owl City. He/They have a sound similar to Postal Service or Death Cab for Cutie. Whimsical, fun, and super romantic lyrics, which I am an absolute sucker for. I highly recommend checking him out if you haven’t.

While Muscles and I were still “on” I looked at tour dates for Owl City and saw that he would be playing in LA in a few weeks. I giddily told Muscles this and then went to look up tickets. Unfortunately, they were sold out. Unfortunately, Muscles already had tickets and once again ignored my not so subtle hints of how badly I wanted to go. Two thumbs down.

I begged one of my friends in high places to use his connections and see if he could get me tickets. Despite being “dumped”, I still wanted to go to the concert and lucky for me, my highly connected friend came through.

I knew there was a chance I’d see Muscles at the show (it was being held at a small venue so if he was there, I’d likely run into him) but whatever, I was going for ME, not for him. Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t make sure I looked extra hot just in case. Since the show was sold out my girl friend and I got there before doors opened to make sure we’d have a nice view of the stage. Little did we know that the age of the average Owl City fan is about 13. (Nothing can make you feel old like watching parents drop their kids off at the same concert you’re going to.)

We decided to take advantage of being some of the few senior citizens at the show, and since we had 2 hours to kill before Owl City took the stage, we plunked ourselves down at the bar to have some drinks.

Some turned into about ten. Oops.

While we were sitting at the bar gabbing away, who should walk in but Muscles. (I found out after the show that ticket prices were only 12 bucks, so even his unemployed empty wallet self could afford it.) Not only that, but he walked in….WITH A GIRL. You need to “lay low” for a bit, my ass.

Fortunately, I was way thinner, cuter, and tanner than her. TRIFECTA. At first, Muscles didn’t notice me, and I made sure to avoid eye contact. He stepped up to the bar and ordered drinks for the two of them, and then looked around the bar, as you do.

I saw him see me, and startle. Then, I kid you not, he turned around and ran out of the bar. RAN, people. The girl turned after him saying “Where are you going?!” but he was off. She waited, paid for their drinks, and went to find him. (in hindsight, maybe that was his way of making her pay for the booze)

REALLY, Muscles? How old are you, twelve?

If anything could help play the final notes in our song (OK…that’s a weak metaphor but I’m trying to continue with the musical theme here), it was that. I am not Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. I would’ve been perfectly friendly had he been a man and done the same. But his reaction was what I’d expect from the 13 year olds in attendance, not a guy who’s almost 30. So in a way it was good because I haven’t given him a second thought since.

Though that could be because I’m using all my energy to focus on keeping down the cranberry and vodkas from last night.

Please take a long hard look through your textbook, 'cause I'm history,
LL

Ah, an epiphany.

First off, just in case anyone was wondering: Gucci and I have exchanged some texts but there doesn't seem to be a 2nd date in our cards. Not that the handshake he gave me at the end of the date didn't indicate that...but just in case you were thinking, "What happened to that nice young fashionista?" Guess we're dead in the water. Oh well. Next!

While discussing Millionaire this week with various friends, aquaintances, and four legged beasts who can't talk back, I have come to the conclusion that I really haven't given this guy the ol' college try. I'm so busy being suspicious of him and all his money in his big house in the hills that I don't give myself a chance to be myself, or to get to know him. That being said, I decided to attack Millionaire dates with new vigor!

Friday night gave me the opportunity to do just that. He texted me around his usual time of 5pm and asked what I was doing that night. I am still on the fence about this: am I letting him get away with being last minute man because I like him, or does he really just get so lost in his work he forgets? Is this his social retardation at play or is he just not that into me? Things to ponder. Anyway, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and, given that I had planned an exciting evening of Halloween costume shopping for the dogs with my roommate, said I was free to hang out. (oh god...did I just admit, in print, that THAT was my Friday night plans?)

We didn't meet up til 9ish because he was STILL working. Yikes. After we chatted and caught up for awhile we went to look up Saw 28 (or whatever number they're on) and see what time it was playing. We ended up not finding anything at a convenient hour, so we decided to go to a comedy club instead.

We wandered into his room so I could chat with him while he got ready. He made a remark about what I was wearing (leggings, boots, and a loose blousy top) as the "look at my ass outfit" and I said nooo, actually this is the "I'm eating too much Halloween candy and not working out outfit." He seized the opportunity to check out my ass for himself and one thing led to another. Afterwards as I was walking to the shower he said, "Please don't say that you're fat. You're really not. You look great." Very sweet.

The comedy show ended up being sold out so we went for Thai food instead. We had a great talk over dinner where I felt like I was finally getting to know HIM a little bit. He told me more about his businesses, how he got into them, and how he hoped to expand them. We talked about things we like doing work wise and what we don't, what our goals on a grander scale were, those kinds of things. He even gave me some valuable job advice.

On the ride home we were talking about astrology, which he's really into. He was explaining fire (him) and earth (me) signs and what they mean and says that they explain why we get along so well. Oh, uh, we do? Cool. This was the closest to actually telling me he likes me that he's gotten. Next stop, facebook status updates! (Right now? It's complicated.)

One thing this whole experience with Millionaire is FINALLY forcing into my thick skull is that you can't change a person. You have no control over how another person behaves or reacts to you. I have spent so much time with men censoring myself and trying to be as perfect as possible and hoping that if I just love them enough that they'll love me back with the same intensity and for once, I finally realize how self defeating that is. Millionaire does some things that make me roll my eyes. He does things that make me think and intrigue me. So the question I have to ask myself is are the intriguing parts of him so attractive that they outweigh the minor annoyances? Could I see myself loving him for HIM, last minute dates, 2 word text messages, awkward seduction tactics, and all? And accepting that those things are a part of him that WILL NOT CHANGE no matter how much I love him? If the answer is no, then he's not the person for me. So, although we are moving at a pace that makes a snail look like he should be headed to the Olympic trials, for now, I think it's the right speed. It's not about settling, it's about finding a person you truly can love for both the good and the bad. And if that were easy, it wouldn't be so exciting and delicious.

But in the meantime, I'll enjoy all my "mistakes" while I can still make them!

The road to finding 'the one' is paved with a bit of promiscuity,
LL

I do not believe this.

So, after a few days of radio silence I just got an email from Muscles. Juicy, right? What will it hold? An explanation of his bizarre behavior? His body receipt as proof that he was actually in jail in Vegas?

Muscles emailed me to....wait for it....wait for it....

ASK IF I WANTED TO BUY HIS U2 TICKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you frickin' KIDDING me here dude?!?!?! Seriously, the steroids must've fried any brain cells you ever possessed because it takes either HUGE cojones or serious stupidity to email me and ask me THAT.

He said, and I quote, "I remember when I told you I was going to the U2 concert that you wished you could go too, so I thought you might be interested."

Um. MAYBE I said that because while yes, I love me some U2, I wanted to drop a subtle hint to you that you should take me. MAYBE I was having fantasies of standing with your arms around me swaying to "With or Without You." MAYBE I loved the idea of us quitting our jobs...well ME quitting MY job...living like hippies (er, hippies who shower regularly) and becoming roadies for U2, following them to all corners of the world in a big musical lovefest.

But do you REALLY think I said it in hopes that you would sell me your tickets?!!?

Needless to say, I haven't responded.

I still haven't found what I'm lookin' for,
LL

Millionaire can lick my wounds....and other parts of me too.

Well, after my ego was kicked in the face by the man formerly known as Muscles and now (un)fondly referred to as "Asshole", it's time to move on. As one of my wise friends put it, "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else." Preach on, sister!

So, with the help of Millionaire, I am doing just that. He texted me last week about 2 hours before he wanted to hang out with his usual impressive social graces, "What u doing tonight". *Sigh* I've just accepted that this is his idea of pillow talk. I, losing my patience with his last minuteness, told him I had plans. He seemed to get the hint because on Sunday he texted me at 2 in the afternoon as opposed to his usual 5pm, AND it was 2 complete sentences. But at the time I was so smitten with Muscles I couldn't feign excitement for Millionaire. I told him I was busy but we should hang out later in the week.

Later in the week came, and here we are. I head to his house AGAIN, but he actually said let's go out to a movie so I'm optimistic this will be an actual date. When I get there he's sitting in his living room playing his piano. I've gotta hand it to him, Millionaire knows how to catch me off guard. Just when I'm thinking he's some grunting idiot of a caveman he does something like that and I think, hmm, there's more to this guy than I thought.

I took piano for ten years so I have done my fair share of ivory tickling. (I probably would've been much more enthusiastic about piano had it been as exciting as 'ivory tickling' makes it sound.) I ask him if he knows how to play that classic it seems EVERYONE first learns, Heart & Soul. (better known as "That song from the movie Big that they play in FAO Schwarz") He does not, so I sit down and teach him and soon we're duet-ing away. Yes, this sounds astoundingly geeky but it was actually quite charming and fun. Next he wants to show off his new pool table so we head up to his game room. I lose to him, twice, and no, not intentionally. Instead of humiliating me a third time Millionaire is kind enough to teach me some things about pool and lo and behold, I actually get better!

Then, as men are prone to do, he decides to take advantage of me when I'm bent over focusing on a shot. Oh Millionaire, there you go with your predictable ways again. But hey, heeding my friend's advice, I follow his lead. And I gotta admit, hooking up in Millionaire's bedroom while overlooking the city of Los Angeles beats the heck out of Muscles' crappy Hollywood apartment with cracks in the ceiling. Let the healing begin!

Afterwards, we decide we still want to go to a movie. He's getting dressed and he walks out of his massive closet in a button down and jeans and says, "Hey, can I wear this?" What am I, your mother? Wear whatever the heck you want to wear. I say this to him and he says, "Yeah, but look at the holes in this shirt," and proceeds to show me three massive rips he seems somewhat proud of. So, naturally, I say yeah you might want to rethink your fashion choices. He pouts and says, "But my best friend gave me this shirt. I love this shirt." Fine! Then wear the damn shirt, what the heck do I care?! I say this, though I try to be nicer about it, and he seems happy with my answer. Did I just pass a test I was unaware I was taking? He is once again living up to the stereotype of the eccentric millionaire living in the house in the hills, but surprisingly, I find this amusing.

Another surprise is that his friend is going to the movie with us. Now, granted, I HAVE met his mother so I guess I shouldn't be so impressed with myself that I'm getting to meet a friend but still. His friend is a red head and looks like ZZ Top. Cool. Seems appropriate for the hobo driving the Maserati wearing a shirt with three massive holes in it. The friend is very nice and at the end of the evening says he's sure he'll talk to me again soon. Oh really? Hmmm. Could Millionaire actually have told his friends about me?

I still don't think there's any massive love affair that will ever materialize between Millionaire and I, but he makes me laugh, even if he doesn't know it. And when my options are staying at home with my dog eating Doritos in bed and pining for "Asshole" or going out with Millionaire while he's dressed like a homeless person....I'll take the latter.

The only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it,

LL

This guy just took a turn for the douche....

*sigh* Sorry my friends, but this blog post won't be filled with my usual sarcastic wit and self deprecation. Muscles has decided he's just not that into me. And he outdid Berger's break up with Carrie via post it: he "broke up" with me via text message. Damn you modern technology. First you give us internet "stars" like Tila Tequila and now this.

It came out of nowhere. At least, I THINK it did. If there were warning signs can someone please point them out to me so I don't ignore them the next time around? We sealed the deal, as you know, we talked the next day as per normal, and later he texted me to tell me he was going to Vegas. Cool, have fun. Do as many hookers and blow as you want, we aren't together.

Yesterday I come to work as per usual and am looking forward to our chat filled day. But he's not there. Hmm. OK, maybe he got in late from Vegas and he's still asleep.

By 3pm though, I know something's up. And so do many of my friends as I freak out to each and every one of them, hoping against hope for some kind of reassurance and thinking that if I just hear from enough people "No I'm sure it's nothing, he's still into you," that will make it true.

But alas no. This morning I received the following text:

"I feel really shitty. I got carried away in Vegas and I need to lay low for awhile. I'm sorry to be a let down. Truly."

Umm....what? Are you running from the law and loan sharks? What does that even MEAN? I have drawn 2 conclusions:

1. He went to Vegas with another chick he was dating and they decided to get serious. All a matter of bad timing unluckily for me.
2. He lost all his money, is broke as a joke, and is embarrassed about it.

Yeah, I'm hoping it's option 2 but I'm doubtful. I just don't understand it. Everything seemed absolutely fine and normal; HE texted ME to tell me he was going to Vegas. It's not like I turned into a super clingy girl post hook up and was all, "So, Saturday night. Want to go shopping for shelf paper and I'll make a brisket?" I hadn't said anything about the next time we were going to hang out. I like a little space post booty just to make sure no one's emotions make them get carried away. (I was raised to think of sex as no big deal. A lesson which was evidenced when, at age 19, my mom said to me, "Don't take this the wrong way....but you really need to get laid." True story. [Hey, I was a late bloomer, so sue me.])

Anyway. I'm hurt, I'm sad, I'm disappointed....and it sucks. I thought about how I wanted to respond to this. Of course my initial response is, Hey ASSHOLE, why didn't you say this BEFORE I got naked with you? P.S. You have a small penis. But, in going along with the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone I decided to do something that makes me a little more vulnerable. I took a deep breath, got a hold of my emotions, and said the following:

"Hmm....I don't really understand what that means, but ok. Let me just say that I enjoyed getting to know you and if you get to a place down the road where you'd like to continue that, you know where to find me. MUSH!!!"

And people, I feel damn proud of myself for saying that. I cared about this guy. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he's going through some personal crisis. That is not an easy benefit for me to give because of all the trust issues men have given me in the past. But I can either choose to cling to those thoughts and experiences and live in my protective little shell, unhurt but not able to feel that blissful feeling of being so in love with someone I forget my own name, or I can accept that sometimes good guys do crappy things that have absolutely nothing to do with me. I can choose to be honest and let them know how I feel, while still not compromising the treatment I expect and deserve.

So that's what I did. No, he didn't respond, but that doesn't make me feel any less proud of myself for taking the route that I did. I took a risk, grew up a little, and that's something no stupid boy can take from me.

I make the most of what comes and the least of what goes,
LL

Does this count as a third date?

Maybe it's because I'm not in college anymore, but for some reason during this experiment I decided to adhere to the "no sex til date 3" rule. I don't even know if this rule still is commonly used today, but it's the closest thing I've had to standards so I'm going to go with it.

Last night I had no intention of seeing Muscles. The sexual tension has been building a lot since Monday, but it's delicious. I forgot how fun actually getting to know someone and delaying sleeping with them can be! (God I hope none of my family members ever find this blog...)

I had spent the early part of the evening running some errands and got home around 9ish. My roommate and I were going to order sushi and catch up on our Dexter viewing but she wasn't home yet. I popped open a bottle of wine and had some time to relax before she arrived. Only thing is: I forgot I hadn't eaten lunch and had done a light workout post work....so I was drinking on an empty stomach.

Two glasses later I was feeling a bit tipsy. I got online and was messing around when lo and behold who should IM me but Muscles himself. I become QUITE the flirt when I drink; in college my friends called me The Kissing Bandit because I'd make out with a new guy every weekend after a few beers. (Oh the things Milwaukee Beast could make me do....) I had a feeling I knew where THIS conversation would be headed.

Turns out there was some drama on his homefront because a car had been broken into in his building. Slick Rick that I am, I took this as my opening and asked, "Do you need someone to come over and keep you safe?" And he, being the oblivious man that he is, replied, "Unfortunately it's my job to keep all these clowns safe." I informed him that this was the wrong answer and he soon caught on. Next thing I know we're making plans for him to come see me. Broken in apartment complex be damned where there's the possibility of sex on the table! (um...not literally. I DO have a roommate you know.)

I know what you're thinking: yes, I was on a date with a different guy just the night before. Yes, this could be defined as "shady" but I prefer to think of it as "dating." This is the idea right? Meet a lot of people and figure out what you like and don't like and settle down with the person who has the most checks in the "like" column. Didn't Sex and the City teach us anything?

To keep a long story short, he came over and my expectations were lived up to. WOO HOO! And, ahem, I think his were as well, but far be it from me to brag about my sexual prowess. Even better, post hook up we laid and talked for awhile and had one of those nice bonding chats that makes a girl feel like less of a slut and more like she had sex with this person because he IS just that into you. His needy apartment people called him an hour later and he had to leave, which is absolutely fine with me as I tend to sleep terribly when someone else is in the bed with me. I swear I was a man in another life.

The "morning after" is always tricky but I'm not too worried. And thankfully, the first time we talk after hooking up will be via gchat which always makes things a little less awkward. So for now I'll just look forward to a repeat performance....or ten.

A liberated woman is one who has sex before marriage and a job after,
LL

Gucci....we meet at last!

So, after more phone tag playing, funny texts being exchanged, and a birthday trip to NYC where he hopefully didn't contract an STD, Gucci and I meet.

He suggests I come to his house and we leave from there. What is it with these millionaires and making me suspect they're the Craig'slist killer's cousin? But unlike Millionaire who lives in the hills, at least Gucci's place is in a West Hollywood neighborhood where I could safely run for my life if need be.

His house is not as impressive as Millionaire's but still, nicely done, especially for a guy who's only 30. And hey, anyone with some grass they can call their own has already one upped me. He answers the door and is wearing the exact same thing he has on in his dating profile picture. Guess he wanted to be sure I thought he looked like his picture. Still, it's endearing in a dorky kind of way.

The inside of his house is nice....ish. Lots of leather furniture, heavy drapes....not really my style but that's something that can be improved. He suggests we have a drink before heading out to a nearby lounge. He offers me a mixed drink or champagne and me being totally girly in my drinking habits, I go for the champagne. Knowing he's got bucks I'm hoping maybe he'll bust out a bottle of Vueve which is not too pretentious yet not too cheap.

Um. The champagne is pink. Why do I suddenly feel like I'm sitting in Barbie's dream house? If his clothes come off and he's got smooth plastic bits where his manliness should be I'm outta here.

We're chatting and he's just as entertaining in person as he has been on the phone. We're both SO sarcastic and dry in our humor that I'm a bit worried we'll spend the whole night trying to one up each other with self deprecation but so far so good. He asks me questions about myself and while I am in the middle of answering him I am looking around the room when suddenly I go silent. He looks at what I'm looking at and bursts out laughing.

It's a huge oil painting of Madonna and Britney kissing at the VMA's in 2003.

No, I'm not kidding. He then leaves me even more speechless by telling me HE painted it. I don't know whether to be impressed by his artistic talent (it IS surprisingly accurate) or repulsed by his subject choice. He explains it is part of a series he is working on about shocking pop culture moments in the 21st century. Next up on his easel? The Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake Superbowl performance fiasco. I laugh politely and hope this is just another one of his jokes. It's not.

I quickly change the subject and we decide to go the lounge he had chosen. It's a nice evening so he asks if I'm up for Mexican instead. I say sure and we walk to a chintzy tex mex place down the street from his house. On the way there he takes my hand, though as he's making his move he asks if that's ok. That's kind of sweet and I like him enough so I assure him that it is.

We didn't meet up til 9ish so I'm not all that hungry but the restaurant is chill and not crowded and we're perfectly happy to munch on chips and salsa and have some drinks. Conversation flows easily; we talk about his family and growing up in LA, how he decided to start his business, why I moved to LA, and some of our dating experiences and past relationships. His last serious relationship was 3 years ago and 3 years in length, which is a bit of a red flag but it's LA, if anyone understands how hard it is to find someone you'd actually enjoy seeing on a regular basis, it's me.

After a drink or two he leans over and gives me a kiss and asks for the bill. It was totally appropriate and also not unwelcome. A cute move, not one of those nasty "Ew can those two get a room already?" displays of affection. We walk back to his house, he kisses me again by my car and then, just before I leave, he....shakes my hand? Um. Is this a business deal or a date?


If a man is talking in the woods and no woman hears him... is he still wrong?
LL

Mmmmmmuscles

Since our first date a week ago, Muscles & I have been talking non stop. All day every day while I'm at work, and he's...well..."working"....I guess? (being a property manager means his work is pretty much part handy man/part real estate agent, which leaves him with lots of free time) Unlike me, he has entered the 21st century and has a blackberry so he's even chatting with me when he's running errands and at the gym. Oooh, me likey.

Monday we were talking and we went into very flirtatious territory, so we decided to meet up that night. We had been talking about a second date but he said he didn't have where he wanted to take me picked out yet, he was still researching. Wait, what? A guy who plans dates IN ADVANCE? Color me impressed. But me, being totally hot for him, wanted to see him sooner rather than later so we decided the 2nd date would be in a few hours.

He found a bar in Hollywood he liked so we met there. Big hug and MMMMM that delicious smell of his. We're standing at the bar ordering drinks when he suddenly grabbed me and planted one on me. Ohhhh yes PLEASE. I LOVE when men act all caveman-ish and manhandle me. Being the large size that I am (in height people, not width!) it is not easy to find a guy who can make me feel small and feminine but he does a great job of it. We found seats on a couch in the bar and continue talking and, ahem, making out. I can't keep my hands off him. Yum. After one drink we decide to go back to his place. Here I "ho" again....

His place is nothing to write home about, but it's neat. That's important. While he is still living the frat boy-eque life in a crappy apartment in Hollywood, at least there's not pizza boxes and beer everywhere. He makes me a drink, we make a pretense like we actually want to be civilized and have a conversation but after about 5 minutes of that we give up and maul each other. Wow. Haven't felt that kind of desire for someone in a loooong time.

You'll be happy to know I was somewhat chaste, given that this IS only the second date. Much as I would like to just rip my clothes off and let him have his way with me, I restrain myself. I'm not saying it was easy, but neither am I.

It's getting late so I unhappily tell him I need to leave. If I want these hot n' heavy make out sessions to continue I need to keep this body in shape and that means getting up early for spin class. As I'm getting ready to leave his bedroom he pins me against the wall and kisses me again.

Oh god, did I just squeal out loud or was that only in my head?

He's still kissing me so hopefully it was only in my head. He is SO. HOT. We finally peel apart and I walk to my car, focusing on keeping my knees from going weak under me. This is bad, I've got it good for this guy.

It isn`t premarital sex if you have no intention of getting married,
LL

Mommy Dearest

So, Millionaire is still in the picture. He sent me a cute text this week asking when he’d see me because he misses me. This causes me both to say “aw!” and roll my eyes at the same time. Walking contradiction, thy name is LL. How could you possibly “miss” me, dude? You hardly know me and 2 weeks ago you didn’t even know I existed and you were plodding along in your merry life just fine.

Wow. Can I overanalyze and ruin a sweet sentiment, or what?

Anyway, I cannot bring myself to tell Millionaire that I miss him because, much like Abe Lincoln, I cannot tell a lie. (or was that George Washington? Was that the point of the whole cherry tree incident?) The skeptic in me keeps me from gushing cheesy sentiments unless I really and truly mean them. Hallmark, take note. But regardless, I would like to see him again. Turns out his mom’s in town for a few days so I tell him to give me a call when she leaves. Great, sounds good, moving on.

Thursday he texted me asking what I was doing that night. I happen to be free and ask if he’d like to hang out. He says ok but his mom’s in town. Um…..all right….so why ask what I’m doing? (see? Socially retarded.) I say this in a more polite way and he says, I have an idea, why don’t you stop by the house and meet her?

The next thing I know I’m waking up on the floor of my office having apparently blacked out in shock. I’m sorry, WHAT? MEET your MOTHER? Have you lost your damn mind?

Yet somehow, later that night I find myself dressed in one of my more conservative sweaters, ringing his doorbell and panicking. His assistant answers the door and introduces herself to me (ok seriously, what dimension am I living in?) and I think great, baby steps. First his assistant and now….HIS MOTHER. ACK.

He doesn’t notice my nervousness and doesn’t appear to have any anxiety about the meeting that is about to occur. Lucky him. Maybe he’s more socially retarded than I thought and doesn’t realize that this is usually thought of as a significant event within a dating relationship and NEVER happens within 2 WEEKS OF MEETING SOMEONE!!!!

I remain calm as he tries to figure out what part of his monstrous house she’s in. We find her and the moment of truth arrives. I don’t remember much about the initial meeting but I know I managed to stay upright, to the relief of everyone I’m sure. I tower over his mom (thank god I wore flats) but she is a spitfire and soon we are making jokes about men and how they need to be trained. I like this lady! She is in amazing physical shape and she’s in her late 50’s but acts like she’s in her 30’s. We talk about dogs and she recommends an animal book she thinks I’ll like. 2 points to the parental unit!

It is also interesting to see Millionaire relax and let more of his true personality come out. He and I are still on our best behavior around each other so I don’t yet feel I’ve gotten a genuine sense of how he is on a day to day basis. But it seems that being around his mom made him more comfortable and I really like the person that I see. We talked with her for about an hour and then she left (she lives in San Diego, close enough to visit but far enough to not be TOO involved in his life….thank goodness).

WHEW. I survived. Seems that created a lot of tension that I was in need of relieving because I MAY'VE seduced him right after she left. Oh LL, you dirty dirty whore. Meet the mom, do the son, everyone goes home happy.

A man can sleep around no questions asked, but if a woman makes 19 or 20 mistakes, she's a tramp,
LL

Gucci

I love gay men. As such, it’s important to me that a guy I’m dating is just as in love with them as I am. OK…maybe not QUITE that in love with them because that could create a conflict of interest, but you get what I mean. To weed out those that aren’t enlightened enough to be perfectly comfortable going to a gay bar with me and my boys, I mention this in my profile.

So, a little while ago I received an email from a gentleman with a somewhat douche-y picture of himself that looked SUSPICIOUSLY like a headshot. (I refuse to date actors) Though not so impressed by his photo, I opened the email and it asked when we were going to meet up and go to the Abbey (biggest gay bar in LA) for drinks. OK, when you appeal to the fag hag in me then you’re just playing dirty.

We play email tag for awhile and then I give him my number. One Sunday we’re texting and he comments about me living in the middle of Boystown. I ask if he’s stalking me and he says, “Yes, and that was a very long shower you took yesterday at 3:47pm. I’m sitting outside your window. Hi.” This actually made me laugh out loud which is a rare feat via text message. We continue texting and a few minutes later, he calls me. I’m in the middle of a Law & Order episode so he’s just going to have to wait. 2 seconds later he texts me saying, “Hey, can you ask the busted Honda that just parked in front of me to move? I can’t see your window.” This guy’s sense of humor is winning him MAJOR points.

We finally talk on the phone and he is easy to chat with. Turns out he owns his own fashion business, hence earning him the nickname, Gucci. Said business seems to be going very well and he owns his own house, which is no easy feat in LA. So he’s funny and has money? UPGRADE. I ask him his last name and he calls me out on wanting to google him but regardless, he tells me.

After we hang up I fire up the ol’ Google machine and enter his name. I expect his fashion business to be the first thing to pop up but no, instead it’s the website for the reality show on Bravo “The Millionaire Matchmaker”? Huh?

Oh yes my friends. Turns out this guy was actually featured on the show. I google him again just to make sure I have the right guy and sure enough, it’s him. I find some message board discussing his episode and what a jerk he was. The audience seems torn: half the viewers think he’s a first class douche, the other half think he was just playing a role and that he’s hysterically funny. This amuses me to no end, especially as I watch clips of his “butler” feeding him grapes. For REAL?! I cannot wait to tell the folks back home this story. I text him, “This. Is. Amazing.” And he says, “I thought you’d like that.” Oh I do indeed.

Unfortunately he is off to NYC for his 30th birthday so it will be a bit before I can meet him, but in the meantime, I’ll amuse myself watching Patti, the Matchmaker, talk about what a jerk he is, and watching his session with her 87 year old “life coach.” Seriously, you can’t make this up.

Love lasteth as long as the money endureth.
LL

The Millionaire (part 2)

OK, so I've been asked out again by the Millionaire. Lovely. Actually, he asked me to hang out the NEXT NIGHT but I thought that was a little much. I adore being adored but there's a fine line between 'adoration' and 'desperation'.

I head to his house, again. I really don't mind this even though my friends are a bit suspicious. Hey, he took me out for the first date and this is an early Saturday night drink. Why NOT sit on his gorgeous deck looking at the city lights and talking?

I am dressed to go out after our drink; he has a poker game later and it's Saturday night so I'm not going to go home at 8pm looking this good! When he answers the door he tells me I look chic. I am pleasantly surprised by the unique word choice. He asks what I'd like to drink and says he doesn't have much. I inwardly cringe. So he's a little less than suave in some areas, I forgive him. This is an area men can be trained in.

We make screwdrivers (which remind me of the first party I had when my parents left me home alone. A night full of flaming Dr. Peppers and waking up to the smell of Peach Schnapps....but I digress) and sit on the deck. Conversation flows much easier this time. He seems to relax a bit more, though maybe it's the vodka. At whatever rate, I am much more enthusiastic about him after this date. He asks if I like museums and I say yes and he asks if I'd like to go to one the next day. Now, I know I said there's a line between adoration and desperation but when I'm into someone that line becomes much blurrier. I say yes.

After an hour or so it's time for him to get to his poker game. As I'm driving down from the Hollywood Hills to go meet some of my girl friends I find myself thinking about him. This causes me to shriek out loud alone in my car, "SHIT! I like him!" This is exciting to most but scary to me, given that I am incredibly hard headed and defensive. To admit that I like someone means making myself vulnerable to them. But, let's face it, that approach to relationships hasn't been doing me a whole heck of a lot of good these past few years so I'm going to try not to freak out and run the opposite direction faster than George Clooney from commitment.

Besides, I have more dates lined up. So, much like a man, I'm going to prove my freedom to myself by being a slut. Great.

Getting married for sex is like buying a 747 for the free peanuts,
LL

Muscles

So, date #2 in this fine experiment is with a guy who, at first glance, doesn't seem like my type at all. Well, apart from the sexy muscles which is most DEFINITELY my type. He's a redhead (I prefer them dark), has only one picture of him facing the camera, has cats (wha?), and seems a bit metro/fratty for me. I try to reserve my judgement and remember that love comes in all shapes and sizes. And I like it in big muscley packages.

I had never looked at his profile but he IM'ed me on the dating site and I chat with him a bit. His sarcasm matches mine which is an important trait. I look to see what he does and it says real estate/financial/accounting. Ok, sounds promising. No income listed. Uh oh. Either filthy rich or excessively poor. Those muscles didn't grow themselves so I'm guessing it's the latter. Damn. Oh well, I'll take one for the blog!

After a few weeks (Yes, weeks!) of communication, our date has arrived. I'm not nervous for this date at all because of the long gchats and multiple text messages that have been exchanged. I mean heck, we already have inside jokes and we haven't met yet! We're meeting for casual drinks in Hollywood at a bar I suggested. Home turf, nice.

I arrive (late, of course) and am happy to see that he is ACTUALLY 6'1 like he said in his profile. Score one point for the meathead! Oooh, he also smells delicious. BIG plus. Conversation bumps along a little awkwardly at first as it does whenever you are meeting someone for the first time, but soon smoothes itself out nicely.

Things are going along swimmingly when I feel a "pop!" and things in my chest area suddenly feel slightly unbalanced. I am not well endowed in the cleavage by any stretch of the imagination but it only takes me a second to realize that my halter bra has come undone. Shit, shit, shit. There is no inconspicuous way to fix this. I shift my weight to the opposite side hoping I might be able to mask it for a few minutes and praying he'll have to go to the bathroom since he's on his second beer. Minutes go by, I'm having a hard time keeping the anxious look off my face, and he's staying put. Come on dude, I thought steroids were diuretics. Balancing all the weight on one shoulder must've pushed said bra to capacity because suddenly the other side pops too. I am seconds away from looking like Tara Reid at an awards show. I have no choice but to adjust myself. Smooth, LL, smooth.

He's a gentleman and ignores my obvious replacing of my goods. Whew. I've noticed that we have been moving closer to each other as the night progresses. Excellent. The chemistry between us is natural, he's a great conversationalist and I'm having a good time. He asks for the bill just as I'm starting to get tired of being "on", which is another plus in his "pro" column.

He walks me to my car which I valeted and gives me a long hug. Ohhhhh my. His muscles and his cologne are making me quite weak in the knees. Quick kiss on the mouth but nothing inappropriate in front of the valet guy. All's well that ends well.

I liked him. Again I'm not blown away hoping against hope that he'll call, but I had fun. I preferred this date to the first, despite my friends' warnings that I will never last with someone who doesn't make a ton of money and appears to not have a lot of direction in life. But what do they know?! Maybe I'll be perfectly happy living in a one bedroom apartment with a cat writing long blogs and cooking him dinner with food from the local co-op.

Hey, it could happen, right?

Whoever said money can't buy happiness didn't know where to shop,
LL

The Millionaire

So, Fireflies & I have been exchanging a few emails and he recently asked if I'd like to meet up. I say, sure. Though, I'll admit, I'm trepidatious about this. Our emails haven't been that detailed and I think it's better to get to know a complete stranger you're going to have dinner with a little bit via email pre-date. That's usually my attitude but, thanks to this experiment, I have to throw attitude to the wind.

So, we choose a night. The day of he texts me to reconfirm (etiquette some would find annoying but I actually prefer because I'm on the phone for work 10 hours a day and therefore have an intense hatred of it outside of work hours) and I assure him that yes, we're on. He asks if I'd like to meet him at his house and we'll go from there. Yes, I know, this violates every "Don't Get Raped" manual ever written, but he's just moved into a new house in the hills and I want to see it. OK, ok, so my love can occasionally be bought. So sue me. I jokingly text, "You're not going to rape and kill me and throw my body off the hill, are you?" This, is my sense of humor. Radio silence. I tell this to my roommate, who is fast becoming my 'Dear Abby' of the online dating world, and she moans and puts her head in her hands. Apparently this is a scary thing to say to someone before you've even met them. Oh boy, I'm more out of practice than I thought. I found this hilarious, but sure enough, once I text back (her advice) that I was just kidding he responds. After giving my roommate his full name and phone number so she'll know where to look for my body if I never return, I'm off.

I arrive at his place, park, and then....the moment of truth! He comes out of the (gorgeous) house. Oooh, online dating lesson #1: whatever height men say they are, subtract an inch or two, especially if they claim to be 5'10 or shorter, and you will have an idea of the actual height of the man you're about to meet. The Millionaire is probably 5'9 or just under. Being above 5'10 myself, this is about as low as I can go, but hey, again, the bank account and gorgeous house cuts him some slack in my judgement. His hair is slightly longer than in his pictures and he weighs a bit more, but not in the "oh my god when was that picture you posted taken, high school graduation?" kind of way. He's cute. So far so good.

He gives me a house tour and then we decide to go eat. Walk into the garage to find his Maserati and Ferrari waiting. Again, so sue me, I'm impressed. Between the live in chef, infinity pool overlooking LA, and this car collection, I've already mentally moved myself in. Conversation is a bit strained but he is at least making an effort and not just leaving me feeling as if I'm playing 20 questions with him. He has no restaurant picked out and says he ate a little while ago when his chef made him something. Um, really? Minus one point. Oh well, I'm hungry. I suggest a place close to his house I haven't tried and we go. After we park and are walking to the restaurant he mentions an ex of his who was a model and is in the new Bruce Willis movie that's coming out. Oy. You're now down two points, my friend.

Fortunately, things improve over dinner. We talk about our childhoods, how we got to LA, how the online dating thing is going for each of us, etc. Basic first date stuff. I laugh, but not hysterically, just in a mildly amused way. Which is fine, it's the first date. Those who've made me keel over laughing on the first date usually end up having sociopathic tendencies which is what allows them to be so charismatic the first time we meet so, mildly amusing is fine by me.

After dinner we go back to his place. It's a bit awkward when he has to go check his computer because of some business related stuff (hey, the guy did not become filthy stinking rich by sitting on his butt eating cheetos), and I linger in the living room enjoying the view of the city lights below. He comes back downstairs and I pause, waiting for him to give me some indication of whether he wants me to go or stay. He says nothing. *sigh* Roommate was right: these brilliantly smart and insanely rich types are a bit slow to pick up on the social cues. Fine, I'm a modern day woman, so I say, "Thanks for dinner, maybe we can go see a movie sometime." He then invites me to stay and watch a movie now. Hmmm, ok.

We sit on the one couch in the room, (he's just moved into this place and furniture is minimal) and turn on the TV. Then he turns and kisses me. Completely unexpected but not unwanted. Good kisser. After a bit his hands begin to roam. Not so good. I like sex as much as the next warm blooded woman but don't start groping me after I've known you for exactly 2 hours. We turn on the TV to find something on pay per view but "Clueless" happens to be on and he seems amused by my ability to name everyone in the movie, so we stay with it. He tries to get fresh a few more times and I get tired of fighting him off so I decide it's time to call it a night.

All in all, I'd call the date 'fine'. It wasn't amazing, I didn't go home thinking, "oh my gosh I hope he calls me!!!" but I didn't leave thinking "I may have to move to Idaho and become a potato farmer if that guy calls me again." This has been my feeling about the previous online dates I've gone on so I'm not surprised. Nor am I disappointed. If he calls, great, if he doesn't, that's ok too.

Oh who am I kidding, of course I want him to call! If nothing else than for personal validaiton, dammit.

The man may wear the pants in the relationship, but I control the zipper,

LL

And so it begins.

So it's been a few days and I've been up to my ears in emails. That's great, right? Clearly the profile wasn't as bad as I thought, huh?

Well let's look at some emails, shall we?

------
To: LL
From: ClosingTheBarDown

Can I bring you in for show and tell?

------

Um, WHAT? I x out of the email and re-open it hoping this was some kind of trick my eyes were playing on me. Nope. A grown man actually said this. If I was of child like proportions maybe this would make more sense, but, being tall and womanly, this just creeps me out. I know I said I'd date every guy that contacted me but I fear one day I'll see this guy helping himself to lemonade and cookies on "To Catch a Predator." Next!

------
To: LL
From: SonOfGod

Hey! How's it going?
------

ACK. This experiment is starting out so disastrously wrong. Jesus and I haven't really spoken in years, so anyone hyper religious isn't for me. This is in no way a judgement on their choice, it's just not my thing and I don't really feel comfortable around super religious folks. As you'll see, I'm much more logical and pragmatic and have a hard time suspending disbelief. Probably why I hate every Kate Hudson/Matt McConnaughey movie ever made. Come on, third time's the charm.....

------
To: LL
From: Fireflies

Hi Miss Aries, how's it going?

-----

OK, one line email which is annoying, but at least he sounds NORMAL. I look at his profile and he's easy on the eyes as well, runs his own business, and is a bit short. Hey, he's short, I have a big nose, we work with what we're given. I respond.

After a few more hits and a few more disastrous misses (really, you're 52 and I'm in my 20's. I understand you're rich but hey, I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger....), I decide to call it a day. Now that I've cast my line into the dating pool it's time to sit back and see what takes the bait.

You lost me at hello,
LL

20's female seeks man with big muscles, big bank account, & no issues?

The first step to any foray into online dating is, of course, the profile. I want a profile that says I'm fun! Breezy! Funny! Laid back! The kind of girl you'd take home to mom! And any other cliche that will get me laid.

Ahem, excuse me. Did I say that out loud?

In all seriousness, I want a profile that is not. Serious, I mean. Yes, the ultimate goal is a serious relationship, but so many people go at this online dating thing as if they're searching for Bin Laden's cave. Those people scare me. These sites create awkward situations; dating like your life depends on it will only make everyone miserable. If you can go into it with absolutely zero expectations besides making it out alive, I guarantee a better time will be had for all.

So, how do I write this thing? First things first: a catchy headline. I start with a physical description. Nah. Boring. Besides, my picture is right next to the headline, they can tell what I look like immediately. A quote from a favorite movie? Too passe. Besides if you put a boy friendly movie like Swingers, "I'm so money baby and I don't even know it," it looks like you're looking for another member of your beer pong team, not someone you'd like to seriously date. Consequently if you put some girly Sex and the City quote, "Some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies," you look like the WORST form of female cliche there is. Might as well just say I'm looking to get pregnant, nag you, and discuss seating charts for our wedding. I decide on a bit of a pun that's not overly cheesy. Next!

Age range, marital status, done, done. Then comes a question that causes me a lot of angst: Do you want children? Oh boy. Isn't that more like, 3 month anniversary talk? Here's my problem with this question: I am one of the few women who has absolutely ZERO desire to procreate. People tend to react to this one of two ways: either they don't believe me ("Oh it's different when it's your OWN children." Yes, if by that you mean I can lock them in their rooms when they annoy me? Sure.) or they wonder what psychological disorder I have. (The answer would be: none. I just prefer the company of people who can wash and feed themselves and have intelligent conversations.) This freaks most guys out. Even if they've never had any desire to have kids, take away that option before the first date and the urge to "spread their seed" can be overwhelming. Funny how that works. (see: "Why Men Love Bitches") Instead of just flat out HELL TO THE NO!, I select, Not sure. At least this ensures men looking for a woman to birth them their own basketball team won't contact me.

Now comes the hardest part: capturing the essence that is me in 3 paragraphs and some 2D digital images. I choose my most flattering pictures from my facebook profile that I know aren't the result of tricky lighting or uglier people in the picture with me. I think this is important. I don't want some dude expecting Gisele to walk in the door only to see that I'm more of the JC Penny catalog type. That was easy.

I've been dwelling on these other things in order to avoid the most hateful part of this whole process: writing a profile that is funny and breezy, without going into the long tangents I am prone to (Exhibit A: this blog post). At first I write in a stream of consciousness just to see what comes out. Whoa. All The Little Pieces Called, it wants it's prose back. Too much too soon. (note to self: REMEMBER THIS ON DATES) I try again. I talk about my love of satirists like David Sedaris and Stephen Colbert so that guys will, hopefully, understand my sense of humor. I talk about how much I love my dog, things I like to do around LA, and am very careful NOT to mention marriage or children. Some guys like to put that right out there about how they're looking to start a family. This leads to my shrieking and clicking my browser's back button as fast as I can. OK. This is a start. My sarcasm may be overwhelming but I'd rather attract someone who gets my humor and has fun with it rather than someone who blinks and stares at me blankly. All right, I'm going for it. Now to send it to the dating site employees who will likely snicker at my desperation & tweak a few things to add to their enjoyment.

Now i just have to get it approved & the adventure can begin!

If love is the answer, could you rephrase the question?

LL