Dating 101

See this? This is my new dating bible.

 Before you start feeling smug and superior and telling yourself you'll *never* settle, give it a chance. I too, was once like you.

 A guy friend of mine read this and though it's directed at a female audience, this enlightened friend was able to identify with it and realize some of his own dating mistakes. He found this book's message to be so important, he bought 5 copies to give to his female friends; me being one of them.

And ladies, I learned that "settling" can be a good thing.

 Before you ignore this post and go click on your favorite food blog (BACON!), hear me out. Are you single and over the age of 26? Do you have a list of more than 5 things your imaginary "perfect mate" must possess? Maybe your soul mate is imaginary for a reason.
 This book can help explain that.

The title is slightly misleading because the book is not advocating just picking a dude up from the grocery store like a carton of eggs and deciding he's "the one." Instead it gives you the reality check your friends are afraid to give you: perfection doesn't exist and if you're waiting for someone who hits all 38 "must have's" on your list, you're not only going to have dust bunnies in your attic, but also in your lady parts.

Don't be "that girl." Read the book.

Women marry men hoping they will change. Men marry women hoping they will not,
LL

2011: A Wrap Up

So, I let the blog slide for awhile. But 2012 is fast approaching and I have a renewed sense of commitment!

A lot of things have changed. Let's start with the dudes, in order of most recent "appearance" on the blog:

7 foot:
After a few great dates, 7 Foot faded into the woodwork. As much as a man of his stature can do so. He popped up now and then with attempted booty calls but when it became clear that that was not going to happen he lost interest quicker than Kim Kardashian in her marriage.

P-p-p-Pokerface: not even worth mentioning. One and done. (Dates that is.)

LOML: Had another date with him where I kind of poured my heart out. We snuggled, we kissed, it was dreamy......and then he went on what he told me was a family vacation the next day. A family vacation with his girlfriend. I didn't discover this til months later (thank you Facebook) but still, ew. Clearly he is NOT LOML.

Lawyer: Shockingly, is still around! Don't get excited though; we've been dating a year and still can't get our act together to be in a committed relationship. So I think it's safe to say we will never be a "we", but I enjoy his company. And the sex. Hey, we're all friends here, I can be honest, right?

That's all on the dude front. On the "life" front I've also had a series of great changes, the biggest being that I GOT A NEW JOB!!!!!! Countless people have told me this has changed me for the better: I'm happier, more confident, and the Lawyer even commented that I'm look hotter every time he sees me because I'm emanating a happy glow. Life is good!

With this new attitude I'm ready to tackle 2012 and maybe find "my" guy. I've been seeing a new man for about 6 weeks and I'm feeling good about him. So let's go see what he's about...

Don't accept rides from strange men, and remember that all men are strange,
LL

Seven Foot

This weekend I did something I've never done before:

Botox.

HA HA! (no really, I'm not kidding)

But after feeling a little more confident thanks to some cosmetic enhancement, I decided to do something ELSE I'd never done before:

A woman.

GOTCHA!

No no friends. My new experience was going and sitting at a bar all by myself. I know that to many this is not a big deal. But to me, with my mild social anxiety, it is. And guess what?! It didn't kill me! I actually spoke to 2 dudes!

Then I called my roommate and asked her to join me. Or rather, bribed her by promising to buy her expensive sushi. And so she did.

Later, we wandered over to the very scene-y W Hotel in Hollywood. I'd never been but once I got a few drinks in me and was feeling cute and belligerent, it seemed like a good idea.

We walked up to the bar and somehow found ourselves next to the tallest guy in the place. He turned around and noticed my short roommate and commented that he could probably pick her up and throw her across the bar. I, being the supportive roommate that I am, volunteered to "go long" so that I could catch her when he did this.

Ah. Tall people jokes. Not very often I find a guy I can make those with. But that was before I met Seven Foot.

Yes, he used to play for the NBA. Though when I asked him what he did now he said he works at a car wash and makes 8 bucks an hour, so I was not entirely sure if this was true. We had a drink or two with Seven Foot and his shorter friend, and then, being the lame girls who love our sleep that we are, we headed home.

Seven Foot began texting me early the next morning. He was visiting LA from San Diego and told me he would like to sneak back up here soon to see me. Well, fantastic, Seven Foot, I would like to see you too.

At some point during our texting conversations however, I had to admit that I didn't know his real name. He was in my phone as Seven Foot and I called him Seven Foot as I told the 2 friends I was brunching with about him. Fortunately I don't think he knew mine either, though he didn't as freely admit it as I did.

I asked him if he had any wives, kids, or prior arrest convictions and he was very upfront and said, "One ex wife....a 17 year old daughter...no arrests...no tattoos...work for a communications company...and am very involved in charity." Well if that wasn't the most thorough, adorable answer I've ever heard!

The adorable-ness continued today. He texted me this morning to let me know he can't text as easily while he's working so he asked for my email address in order to continue our witty banter. WOW. Now THIS is the kind of attention a girl could get used to!

After a few emails he invited me to spend a weekend in San Diego at his place. He even included a link to a spa he is a member of and told me I could work out there to my heart's content when I visit. AH-DOR-ABLE. I told him I would very much like to come see him but if he didn't mind I'd plan on spending the night at my friend's house til I determined he was not a serial killer.

Or got drunk. Whichever comes first.

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then,
LL

P-P-P-Pokerface

While Charlie Sheen seems to be losing his mind, my dating life is proving to be happily sane.

For the moment.

I was invited to dinner with a gentleman friend and some other folks. Other folks = other dudes. I'm in!

We went to the now infamous Osteria Mozza (Christina Aguilera's eatery of choice when she wants to get loaded and consequently arrested). I was seated next to the tallest gentleman at the table, P-P-P-Pokerface. This is his nickname because, besides just being fun to say, he is a professional poker player. You will remember I went on a date with one of these last year. Fortunately this one was about 5 inches taller and NOT wearing a jacket with rhinestones on it. Moving on up!

P-P-P-Pokerface is just over 40, plays rugby for fun, and travels the world playing poker. He is also tall, dark, and handsome. Not to quote Charlie Sheen (because god knows everyone else is) but: winner!

While this meeting of the minds is going on, Lawyer is blowing up my phone with text messages. He's off skiing and trying to get some sexting going and is mad that I'm not answering fast enough. As I said to my girl friend, "And what? Bitch, you ain't my boyfriend!"

My attention is much more focused on P-P-P-Pokerface. There is something about him that is very open and inviting. He SEEMS to being honest with me, but then again, he masks his feelings for a living. He too has been trying out the online dating thing so we talk about that. I ask him what it is he is hoping to find in the world wide web of love and he answers, with no hesitation, "Oh, I want to find my wife. I love being married."

I choke on my linguini. No, not because of the I love being married comment, he had already told me he was divorced. But the wanting to find his wife comment. First guy I have encountered in ALL of my dating that makes a statement like that within the first 30 minutes of knowing me. Maybe this is a line because he thinks every chick is just DYING to get married and knocked up. But I am not every chick. I'm surprised I didn't run screaming out of the restaurant, fiercely clutching my independence. Lucky for him it was raining and who wants to go out in that?

Our dinner was AMAZING. He did most of the picking of the food for the table since he had been there before and WOW. Much like a man, one way to my heart is through my stomach. Be that feeding me amazing food or complimenting how it looks thanks to all the hard work I put in at the gym. He did both.

All in all? The night was nice. Not "eh" not "oh my god I can't wait to see him again!" just nice. And that's not a bad thing! Maybe nice is what I need. I guess we'll soon find out. I'm seeing him again next weekend.

When a man opens a car door for his wife, it's either a new car or a new wife,
LL

The Non-Relationship Relationship

I've gone on a few dates with the lawyer since I last mentioned him. Or should I say, I've gone on a few dates with the lawyer AND his friends. First there was a hockey game with a big gang of them. Then a sushi dinner with his best friend and the girl he's dating. Last week, a BBQ with a bunch of his friends. The only time we hang out one on one is when we're....well....ahem.

This is more than a friends with benefits situation, but it's not a relationship. It's the dating green zone. And it's a blast! I'm not going to marry the guy and I know that. He knows that. We're both ok with that. We are practicing what I was preaching in yesterday's post: FUN.

It's more than just fun though, it's good practice for my next relationship. I care about the lawyer but if he decided tomorrow he never wanted to see me again, I'd wave goodbye, ask him for his (hot) best friend's number, and be on my way. This feeling has made me quite carefree. If he annoys me, I tell him. If I'm feeling insecure about something, I tell him. And he does the same with me. Every relationship should be as easy as my non-relationship!

Who knows how long this will last? I don't, he doesn't, and neither of us are wasting time worrying about that. It's nice to get an unexpected text from him during the week just saying hi and seeing how I'm doing. But if I don't get a text every day, I don't analyze it to death. Not being hyper focused on a dude has freed up a lot of my time and headspace. I think I may just figure out a cure for cancer with all these new previously occupied brain cells.

I'm repeating myself. I'm just in awe at how easy this is and how good I feel about it. It's not as cheesy as a Kate Hudson movie and not as stupid as the latest Natalie Portman/Ashton Kutcher vehicle. It's, as Little Red Riding Hood said: just right.

I know that somewhere in the Universe exists my perfect soul mate -- but looking for him is much more difficult than just staying at home and ordering another pizza,
LL

Bitter, party of one.

It is fascinating to me to read the blogosphere chatter about online dating. There is so much human psychology to be studied, therapists should fish commenters for new patients.

But there is one trend that I find particularly bothersome: the bitter and angry single.

For example, in a recent article on Salon.com about Match buying OKCupid, there was this gentleman:

"Things got so bad that I deliberately contacted two women in their mid-to-late 50s (who looked it), just to see what would happen. Sure enough, both women - who had no business rejecting any male attention that was not rude - told me they didn't think I was a match. The reality? Those women are doubtless still alone, as am I. The sad fact is that in the case of the second woman, who is 57, I actually wouldn't have minded pursuing something if she'd been so inclined, because in many ways that she failed to recognize we were a match."

Things "got so bad"? What does that even mean? Does it mean you were on a dating site for 5 years but never met "the one"? So what, at least you were out there doing your thing and meeting new people instead of sitting at home with your cat. (Though...if you are male and have a cat, I hesitate to say I don't know why you're single.)

When did dating become such a serious undertaking? Whatever happened to good old fashioned fun? Your success on a dating site, or just dating in general, is half dictated by your attitude towards it. Do you look at dates as a series of job interviews to find the man with sperm that would beat Michael Phelps in an Olympic heat? Do you have an Excel spreadsheet of your life plan, with significant events measured out in 5 year increments? Then YOU may be a large part of the problem.

Dating can suck. Trust me, I get that. But you severely handicap your experiences if you go into it with an attitude of "OK, I've decided I'm ready to be in a serious relationship with this specific type of person who will treat me this way and we will be married by this age and have this many kids." Who wants to go out with that?

I looked at my foray into online dating as a big joke. I started this blog to amuse myself and my friends and to keep myself from only dating guys that fit my pre-determined idea of "my type." I forced myself out of my comfort zone and laughed at myself. A lot.

And with that attitude I think you can't help but be a success. Have I met the love of my life? (Well...yes, according to my previous blog but we aren't even in a relationship so that doesn't count.) Nope. But what I have gained is increased self confidence, better understanding of what I'm looking for in a man and a relationship, and a lot of free booze.

So relax. Have fun. Drink too many martinis. And for Christ's sake, stop expecting your life to imitate a Sex and the City episode.

Kids!? No! Don't have kids! The rule is no kids until you're at least 45. Don't you EVER read my blog? It's gotten a lot better,
LL

Worst. First Date. Ever.

Today my friends, we have a harrowing dating tale from the opposite coast, which just proves that dating ANYWHERE is not easy. A friend of mine, we'll call her Hometown Hottie, decided to give the ol' online dating thing a try, which I strongly encouraged. We were discussing some of our internet dating shenanigans yesterday when she realized she had not told me about her worst date ever. Fortunately said date did not scar her for life and she is seeing a lovely gentleman right now, but that's a story for another day. Let's begin our tale of woe.

Hottie met a guy in her area who was originally from Boston. He's also an idiot. So I will nickname him Bean Dip. Bean Dip and Hottie exchanged a few emails and met for drinks and football. (Already Hottie is proving she's far too awesome for Bean Dip because she's a cool girl who "gets" football.) First meeting was a success and a 2nd date, including dinner, was planned.

Prior to said date Hottie, like any curious and responsible female, decided to Google Bean Dip to see if there were any discrepancies in what he told her vs. what the internet said. No red flags waved, so she was looking forward to the date.

They have a perfectly lovely dinner, they go dutch, and in Hottie's words, "...and then he offers to take me out for a drink because he's a gentleman.......FALSE."

Uh oh, here it comes.

They stay at the bar til last call, good sign, right? Bean Dip invites Hottie back to his place and Hottie says yes, but makes it very clear that she will be staying in the guest bedroom and not to get any ideas. (A little naive on Hottie's part? Sure. But she trusts people and assumes the best of them and I refuse to fault her for that.)

I'll let her tell you the rest:

"Well, we're playing WII and everything is fine until he asks me how much it'd take for me to pose for Playboy. I'm like, WTF dude? Why would you ask that? Is it a test?
We end up loudly debating (fighting) about this question and how it's unacceptable and I wouldn't do that.
I tell him he deserves to be slapped and he basically dares me, so I do.
Several times.
Apparently that turns on boys from Boston and he grabs my hand and puts it on his junk.
I then punch him in the balls and go to "my room" and lock the door."

And that, my friends, I think you'll agree, is the story of the worst first date ever.

Sensitive break up letters are my specialty. Dear Baby. Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: You,
LL

LOML.

It never fails: save up for an expensive pair of shoes? Find them on sale the day you're wearing them. Go on a diet? Your roommate decides to bake cookies. Meet a seemingly nice, normal lawyer in a bar? LOML calls the next day.

LOML is the Love Of My Life. No really, he is.

I've known it since our second or third date when he sent me a link to an article about sunscreen, and how many products on the market do not offer the protection they claim to. This came with a list of approved sunscreens that he wanted to make sure I was using so that I didn't turn myself into a human french fry.

That was it. Game over. Checkmate. Lovesick.

Unfortunately, LOML comes with a treasure trove of emotional issues. So tragic are these issues that back in July, when we were seeing each other, he realized he needed to deal with these issues on his own before he could be part of a "we." We remained friends, but he pretty much went MIA to deal with his stuff. Which I understood completely.

Cut to Christmas Day. I haven't spoken to LOML in months. Sometime Christmas morning I look at my phone and see that I have a missed call. From LOML. I have hot flashes. Then chills. I may've blacked out momentarily.

In his message LOML tells me that he has been thinking about me a lot and wanted to thank me for being such a good friend to him this past year. He says that he's lucky to have me in his life and one of his new year's resolutions is to see me more in 2011.

*SWOON*

We've exchanged a few texts since but nothing serious. And of course, the week after I meet the Lawyer, LOML calls to set up a date. He suggests the place we first met.

The night before the date I can't sleep. I haven't been this excited since 3am Christmas Eve of 1994, when I snuck out of bed and found that Santa had put a training bra in my stocking. (I was the only one in my 6th grade gym class not wearing one so the creepiness of an old man giving an 11 year old a bra was lost on me.)

Work can't end fast enough and after 8 long painstaking hours, I'm finally free. I rush home, change clothes 15 times, and run out the door, late. (as usual) He is counting on this fact, knowing me as he does, and thus, I actually arrive first. (a fact worth noting since it NEVER HAPPENS.)

He is clearly nervous too. For the first 15 minutes I hardly manage to get a word in edgewise, and LOML is not usually an aimless chatterer. But I am so giddy just to be with him that he could be reading me sports scores and I'd still be smiling like a loon.

He apologizes for running his mouth so much and we talk about where I am in life and things that have happened over the past few months and how I'm handling them. I am completely honest with him. I couldn't lie to him if I tried. I adore him too much to start off anything that may happen between us on any lies.

It is a "perfect" date. He is just as warm and funny as he was when I first met him, but there's a feeling of more openness as we trust each other with the emotions we've both been dealing with over the past few months. I feel safe with him. And like I know where I stand. Are we going to run off to Vegas next week and get hitched on a whim? No. Is it going to be a bit of a bumpy ride as we continue to see each other and figure out what part we will each play in each other's lives? Yes. But I know that the ultimate result, if there is such a thing, will be worth it.

I feel calm, secure, and patient about what will unfold between us in the coming days, months, and years. Maybe he's my happy ending.

Love has no guarantees. If that’s what you’re looking for, go live with a car battery,
LL

A Lawyer Walks Into A Bar....

Having hung up my online dating hat, it came time to try out my roommate's "fool proof" way of meeting dudes: by watching football. 2 problems with this:

1. Games on the west coast start way early. You want me in a bar looking cute by 10am on a Saturday? Not likely.
2. I care about football about as much as Lindsay Lohan cares about the rules of her probation. That is to say: I don't.

But whatever. I look cute in the Matt Ryan jersey my die-hard Falcons fan of a roommate got me for Christmas, so I decided it couldn't hurt to give it a shot.

We went to a southern bar in Santa Monica for the Falcons vs. Packers play off game. (WE HATE GREENBAY!!!) We were decked out in our Falcons gear and within 10 minutes of the game starting we had been invited to join a big table of rowdy Atlanta fans. Nobody cute there but whatever, unattractive dudes are still capable of buying me drinks.

Sometime during the 2nd quarter (inning? whatever.) a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman came in to meet his buddies who were sitting at the table next to us. OK so at first I didn't find him to be that handsome. And when he started cheering for Green Bay he became even LESS desirable. But this (and some vodka) made me comfortable enough to act like my usual tipsy, slightly belligerent self. I started giving him a hard time for cheering for the enemy and soon we were talking about anything but football.

Lo and behold I'd somehow stumbled upon a nice, seemingly genuine, smart, gainfully employed (as an attorney! Not a bartender!), guy in the middle of a bar full of sports fans. I thought this only happened in the movies!

We exchanged information and color me shocked, he texted me the next day to see if I wanted to hang out. Though of course, this being LA and me being jaded, this made me more suspicious than giddy. It was a three day weekend so when I said I wasn't available that day (Sunday) he asked what I was doing on my day off.

Easy there, cowboy.

I behaved like the shady guys I've dated for the past year and he called me out on it. He said he thought we were getting along great on Saturday but if I wasn't interested that's cool. I said that I was interested, just a little overwhelmed. Then he said, ok cool, you're in charge now. Now you're speaking my language.

So a date was planned for later in the week. I'm cautiously optimistic but really just hoping for some good blog material, not my happy ending. (err..not THAT kind of happy ending. Though I'd be ok with that. Maybe.) But since the universe loves to fuck with me, who knows what could happen? I'm just along for the ride.

Girls want a lot of things from one guy. Conversely, guys want one thing from a lot of girls,
LL

Superjew

What do you think of when you hear of the town of Cherry Hill, NJ?

Well, if you're my mother you think, "Oh, he's jewish."

Before you start penning strongly worded letters about the intolerance of my family, my mother was born and raised in New Jersey, long before the era of fist pumping. This was simply a statement of fact and the first thing that came to mind when I told her I was going on a date with a guy from Cherry Hill. It caught me off guard and of course, I had to tell said Jewish guy that I was going on date with what my mom said, which he found hilarious. Thus, the name Superjew was born.

I met Superjew on the dating website, right around Thanksgiving. It was a bit of a unique situation because he was based out of LA, but currently living and working in NYC. So we spent quite a bit of time playing the getting to know you game via email. Long philosophical messages were exchanged, inside jokes were created...and I was sure that when we met in person it was going to be a disaster.

We met in person at Christmas in NYC. Before your mind starts filling with images of us locking eyes across Rockefeller Center and embracing under the Christmas tree (everyone knows a good jew can still appreciate a Christmas tree), let me tell you it was freezing, he was late, and we met in a restaurant. Sorry to burst your Carrie Bradshaw bubble.

Superjew was shorter than me (as most Jewish men are), but it didn't bother him, which was cool. As time went on I began to realize it was "cool-bordering-on-fetishist" but whatever. I'd rather have a guy who appreciates my long limbs than a man with a Napoleonic complex who is constantly challenging me to arm wrestling matches.

I broke my "drinks only" first date rule and had a full dinner with him. I figured if I had traveled 3000 miles, the least I could do was get a free meal out of it. (full disclosure: I was at my aunt's house for the holidays and she lives in the NYC area, so I wasn't actually being as generous as I like to portray myself.)

Superjew and I had spent a lot of time talking about fitness and working out and our exercise regimes. I appreciate a guy who works out as seriously as I do, but I was a little wary of the fact that ne'er an email or phone call went by without him asking how much I was working out that week. I figured he was just trying to force a feeling of intimacy by making it "our thing" but I was finding "our thing" really annoying. More warning flags were waved when, after I declined to partake in the bread basket, he said, "Good choice. Bread is nothing but simple sugar." Judge my shoes, judge my hair, but do NOT judge my food. I have enough of a complex on my own without your help thank you.

I realized I was being harsh though, since I had willingly participated in all of these fitness and nutrition discussions. So he probably thought he was impressing me with this knowledge, not making me want to call my therapist. Onward!

The rest of the date was perfectly acceptable and lovely. No nausea inducing butterflies, but no urge to punch him in the throat either. He kissed me, walked me to my train, and home I went. We continued texting and emailing throughout the holidays and in January he was coming back to LA. Great.

Superjew had a deprecating sense of humor, but the problem was, it wasn't self deprecating, it was LL (that's me) deprecating. If I didn't answer the phone on the first ring, he gave me a hard time. If I didn't sound enthused enough when I said, hello, he gave me a hard time. I began to notice that I couldn't say anything, fact or opinion, without Superjew telling me why I was wrong.

Note to men: that's annoying.

The final straw came when I was talking to him as he was waiting for his flight to LA. He began the conversation as he always did: by asking me how much I'd worked out that week and how my body was looking. I said I had gone to the gym 4 days in a row but taken today off and he called me a slacker. I gritted my teeth and defended myself. He didn't pick up on my annoyance and switched gears to ask me about the weather. I looked it up online and told him that in my neck of the woods, it would be about 65 which meant that down by the beach where he lived, it would probably be about 62, 63.

His response? "Well, what do those weather people know anyway? It's not like this kind of thing can be predicted."

I had had enough. I laughed, loudly, and said, "Actually, yes that can. That's what a weather forecaster DOES!" He grumbled, dismissed me, and told me he had to go because his plane was boarding.

When I hung up my observant co-worker apologized for eavesdropping (not that that could be avoided, I'm a loud talker) but she couldn't help but hear how I was defending the fact that I had worked out 4 days in a row but clearly the person on the other end of the line didn't think that was enough, and that that was kind of a jerky thing for him to be saying.

Eureka!

She was absolutely right. And for once, I felt no guilt about sending him a thanks but no thanks email.

(Yeah, yeah, I know, email is a bitch move, but hey, in my defense, he was on a plane so he wasn't going to answer my call anyway.)

And thus, the end of my online dating experience. Back to meeting men the old fashioned way: by being drunk and slutty. Ahhh, it's good to be back!

Let's have a party and invite your pants to come on down,
LL