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
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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
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
Friday, November 13, 2009
*$#@*!(#!!
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
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
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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.
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
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
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
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
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
Monday, November 9, 2009
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.
"Hey baby, you taller than most buildings in LA. How YOU doin?"
Wow....just....wow.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
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
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
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