Welcome fellow bloggers who are tired of the "disconnect" between singles everywhere. Forget the "rules" and the media and everything that prevents us from finding love. It's time for some honest reflection on what we all really want and why commitment works for some and not for others.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Love Sabbaticals

Okay, so now that I know people actually might read my blog, I've decided to start writing again. I took a creative sabbatical for the past six months for two reasons. One, I got tired and frustrated that I didn't know how to market my blog. Two, I got a new boyfriend. But, not just any boyfriend. This guy came in when I had given up looking, which as you know by now is the best time to find someone truly meaningful. Which he is. When you've given up all hope, need or want for a significant other to the point of becoming a nun or at least comfortably numb from self-pleasure. Then, out of nowhere, they fall from the sky or at least call your cell phone and you find yourself suddenly engaged in exclusivity. Weird that it took me two years of being free and single and too many dating disasters to get to this place of content abandon. Where I had stopped worrying about being over thirty and unmarried. Then I get this call out of the blue that went something like this...

"Yeah, hi, is this Blogoddess?" (obviously I'm protecting my name to save my innocence)
"You said that. Who is this?"
"You might not remember me. We met at a party a few months ago." (Actually it was eleven months prior, so really a year, but who's counting)
"Okay, that really narrows it down."

Laughter from him. Do I detect an accent? Hmm. I suddenly go through my rusty mental rolodex for guys from several months ago with an accent and come up blank.

"I had long hair and cut it. It's R.J. Remember?"
"Ohhh, yeah, sort of, uh huh. Hi."

It's funny how many times we say the word "hi" when we're either extremely nervous or bewildered.

"So, R.J., how have you been?"
"Good, yeah, I just got back from South Africa last week."

I knew there was an accent. Tricky. So the boy proceeds to tell me that some friends of his and himself had decided to go camping overnight and he wants to know if I'd like to join him since he remembered I was the "outdoorsy" type. Now, people might remember me for a lot of reasons...being 6'2", somewhat witty, whatever...but never have I been remembered for being Ms. Granola. This flattered me enough to take interest in what he was up to, though I had no intention of going camping with some guy who I hadn't spoken to in almost a year, who I vaguely remember thinking was a total player type. So, I asked...

"What were you doing in South Africa? Visiting family?"
"Well, actually, you might have seen me on the news. I was part of this film crew that got lost in the desert."

As a matter of fact, I had seen this clip for a couple days about them. Weird that I was one of the only ones. But, this whole conversation was weird, because basically here's this guy asking me to go camping in the woods right after he gets back from getting lost in a desert in Africa. Yeah, no, I think I'll pass. So, I suggest coffee later in the week maybe and told him I'd call him on Monday or Tuesday. I never did.

Thursday hit with an "oh my god, I just left my hairstylist and the only people who are going to see me this sassy are my girlfriends at the bowling alley party tonight. Fuck." Then the lightbulb went off. I hadn't called R.J. and thought maybe bowling in groups was a safe enough venture in case he had turned into a freak over the past year, and worse comes to worse he'll bear witness to my crowning glory of highlights. So, I called, he was excited and we had dinner prior and it was fun. Great time. Hot guy. Total cutie who treated me like an angel. What a different a year makes. He was different. Humble and not as superficial. I remember thinking, hmm, this guy is so similar to me.

Over the next few months things progessed nicely with us finding more and more in common and really cherishing our time and spending oodles of it together. He actually would call when he said he would call. There were no games and no drama. I have to say there is something to be said for good old-fashioned manners, which I guess are the standard for South African men. I suggest every gal grab one up via male order.

So, here I am, two weeks after my new beau has given me keys to his apartment and we're definitely serious about our future and such. The only snag I see is that his career clock is a little behind my biological clock, so we'll have to figure out a compromise sometime soon. Like all men, he wants to be settled and secure before taking on the responsibility of wife and kids. I don't blame him, but at the same time my eggs won't hatch on their own.

All I can say is that sometimes it's nice to just take a break from dating and focus on yourself. Once you truly realize you like who you are, can stand to be alone with yourself, then suddenly out of nowhere something can happen. I had given up finding my guy, believing my standards were just too high. But, then he called me and the best is yet to come.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

got man? Nope, I think they're sold out.

Now, men, don't get pissed. It's just that for the most part women tend to do self-improvement strategy, where men need shows like Queer Eye to wake them up to the fact that maybe their wardrobe is less than sexy and their manners more caveman than not. Not to mention a beer belly is never hot. Because there's a general rule of thumb that if men are too "metro" than women are turned off, but if they're not "metro" enough, women are turned off. If men are too macho, again, turned off on the female front, but too wimpy, hmm...yep, turned off again. So, basically, for the most part, women are having a hard time getting turned on these days. It all comes down to balance. Finding the right combination to unlock a woman's heart takes a lot of time and training and patience, none of which men have a lot of usually.

But, why are women more picky these days? I mean, obviously there was a time when women would find a guy and settle down and have other little guys. Not so much today, huh? Is it because women are taught they don't need men as much anymore? I mean we make our own money now, so who needs someone telling us how we can spend it. It's been proven time and again in many cultural arenas that we have the strength to raise our own kids alone, so do we really need support or just some semen? I think as long as there's an electrical outlet for our power toys, we pretty much can survive on chocolate and romance novels, truth be known.

So, there's the rub, or lack thereof. Men don't feel needed, and women really don't need them, right? Wrong. I forgot love. Love is a huge thing. It changes people on levels that can't be seen with a microscope. The real problem is fear. Fear has become bigger than love, because all we're told time and again through our media is how hard it is to find true love. How fucked up everyone is and that divorce is up and people are waiting until later in life to marry, etc. etc. No wonder so many people just run around and have sex and catch diseases and then ruin their chances of finding the perfect mate when they feel imperfect. Fear steps in and tells us that if you commit to one thing, then you're missing out on the possibility of something bigger and better. Newsflash - there will always be something bigger and better out there on any level, but that doesn't mean that you or anyone else is entitled to it or will acquire it, so stop being so damn greedy! Find someone you truly connect with and can talk to and trust. When you find them, hold on tight. Because, when you're old and gray and everything starts falling down, you need that person to hold you up sometimes and that's more important than sex. Really, I mean it.

"If you would like to make a call..."

Disconnected. All of us. I'm not sure if it's some secret population control where the government started tampering with our pheromones through our water supply or something. Though that's doubtful, since in Japan they would rather have cybersex than the real thing out of sheer laziness to date. Whatever it is, all I know is men and women are not as eager to be together as before. Now, it's possible the same could hold true for the homosexuals of the world, but considering I'm not gay, it's hard for me to speak for them. But, they're welcome to chime in.

So, it comes down to one thing that my friends say to me on a regular basis. "If you can't find a decent man to connect with, the rest of us are screwed." I think a lot of their concern is that I represent a smaller percentage of women who actually work on their insides as much as their outsides and have a nice "package" from every angle. Meaning, I'm a model type with brains who has a sense of humor, is creative, understands men's needs, loves sex, and the list continues to the point of narcissitic nauseum. So, I'll stop now. But, I'm not saying this to be vain, I'm saying this as an example that we have a much bigger problem. If I can't find a man, who can?

See, I'm not afraid of commitment or relationship. So, I'm not one of these hot girls who run away from boys or think they're too good to be caught by a mere mortal man. I'm relatively humble usually and an "amazing" girl as Tom Cruise might put it and many less famous men have. However, for some reason, men run scared. I think part of the problem is this - what do you do when you find the perfect girl for you and you're not ready? The same question could go for women regarding the perfect man I suppose, but since we all know he's about as rare as a manatee, let's focus on a more realistic assumption.

So, you find her, then what? If a) you aren't ready to get married, you stall. You try to hold on as long as possible until she gives you an ultimatum. If b) you never want to get married and you're a decent guy, you dump her, leaving her wondering "what the hell is wrong with you, are you an idiot or something?" If c) you aren't sure if you want to get married, than you date her and try to figure it out. Maybe a relationship forms, halleluiah, and she starts thinking, "wow, we're so in love, this is great." And then one day you decide you are actually a), so you start to play the push and pull game. You clue her in that maybe she shouldn't get her hopes up by pushing her away, but as soon as you risk losing sex on a regular basis, then you reel her back in with that big hook of yours. Or maybe you are actually b) but not that decent of a guy, so you tell her you don't want to get married but still want to have sex. But, by now she doesn't really believe you because you've been together so long and she just thinks it's cold feet and ignores you. Yeah, gotta love the female power of denial. Or maybe she just beats you back into submission with her pussy and you go back to being a c) because of the amazing blow jobs she gives you. Either way, we're all FUCKED, and I don't mean in the good way. This is not NORMAL. This is not how our grandparents did it, so say good-bye to the human race.

Scurred for Katie Holmes

So, I'm not from Canada, but I can still be scurred. TomKat is upon us, and I don't know what's scarier, Tom Cruise's War of the Worlds, or the fact that Katie actually "digs" Scientology as her "amazing" beau mentioned this past week. By the way, I think the word "Amazing" is going to be the next "You're Fired" any day now. I'm all for new love, great love, great sex, robbing cradles if you look like Tom, and all that good stuff. But, for god's sake, why bring religion into it? If sex is done right, that's all the religion you need, right?

So, what the hell is his problem trying to convert her during the honeymoon phase? Now, I understand that maybe she wanted to "learn" about Scientology - a religion created by a man who said "if you want real power, start your own religion" after he gave up being a pornographer. A religion that costs obscene amounts of money to really get to the core of what it's about and truthfully scares most people for a reason. Because it's scurry. If you follow your intuition, you throw Dianetics into the fireplace along with your newspapers and rage on. If you have loved Tom Cruise since before you could talk and think he's sooo amazing, you read Dianetics cover to cover and smile alot and hope that does the trick and gets you more publicity than a young, aspiring actress could ever hope for.*

My feeling is that the smoke and mirrors of Hollywood have clouded Katie's brain just long enough to find a man she's been looking for in a reflection caused by fame beyond anyone's comprehension. Let's see how long TomKat can survive the spotlight without it burning its way to their bones. I hope it's real love without the artificial sweetener, but given his crusade to convert her to his alter-EGO and her willingness to do anything he bids...well, that explains why he's so in love with her, now doesn't it? Because if the rumors about why he and his ex broke up - because she was unwilling to raise their children as Scientologists - are true, then he's just been on the prowl for a hot, gullible, actress to bear Scientologist offspring, instead of just innocent children allowed to find their own beliefs. This of course is assuming he can have children in the first place...ah, the Hollywood Rumor Mill...gotta love it.

* See Nicole Kidman.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

A Valentine Anniversary (of sorts)

June 14th - four months from Valentine's Day, and I'm here to celebrate my newly acquired singledom once again. Clean slate, no dates, and feeling great! After all, being a single girl in Los Angeles isn't easy and maybe it's time to reflect on how many men - let me rephrase that - how many quality men I've met with true commitment potential since cupid's arrow whizzed by and missed my head by just a fraction of an inch I'm sure. Hmm. Yes. Well. The answer would probably be 0.5. Yes, that's right, half a man. I suppose I should explain.

But, before I do, since this is my blog, I guess I should introduce myself...or at least describe who I am in terms of the basics - boobs, brains and beauty. The boobs are natural (36B), the brains are above average (140 IQ) and the beauty - well, I rent that by the hour and it's depreciating daily, however most would say I'm well preserved for 33. The clincher is really my height. At 6'2", not your average female, and definitely sometimes a hindrance when it comes to finding a man. No, I'm not the girl that men fear will make them feel like they are in bed with another man, and therefore exploring their hidden homosexuality. In fact, most would consider me "hot" as Ms. Hilton might say, and extremely feminine and graceful - think Nicole Kidman without the long red hair. I've learned being of an above average female height can be less of a blessing than some might think. However, I have to say, over the past few months I've managed to date several (i.e. 3-5) men in different capacities at the same time all within my height range. Miracles of miracles.

Dating is an artform - truly. It can confuse the hell out of anyone out of practice to keep track of which guy's grandmother is still alive, which guy is born in August versus November, which guy loves basketball, which guy hates sports...and the list goes on. Many a time I find my mouth won't fit both my feet, so I am forced to just keep quiet. Which, as you might imagine can be difficult for most women, myself included. :)

So, let's start with Valentine number One, who showed up sometime in February. He was younger at 28, he was a world traveler and I met him at a college type billiards place that I occasionally frequent (hmm, there's an oxymoronic statement) in order to confirm and validate myself as a Demi Moore in training. It was magic across a crowded room, and before I knew it we were outside exchanging numbers with drunken abandon. Here's the funny part. Truth is I got his number since his cell phone was lost. Then he told me his number incorrectly by one digit. Given the challenge, and after calling two random wrong numbers in New York, I managed to get it right and leave him a message. Yeah, I know, no desperation in that move. Did I expect to ever hear from him - not really - I thought, "he just wanted to bone a tall chick and move on." Plus, he didn't live in LA - which immediately eliminated him from true commitment potential right there - but he was pretty hot...and tall at 6'4." So, when he did call and we did hang out, it was great and fun and fleeting. I refused to give in to his charm and get naked right away, so he decided to move on as I predicted. But, at least I wasn't left feeling like a an empty beer bottle like so many women I've come across. Anyway, Valentine One was worth about 0.1 on the man scale. Meaning, in a few years, after a few fields of oats had been sewn, I knew he would probably make a good husband for someone...just not me.

Valentine number Two showed up in March with a tad more potential...for a little while. He was older, successful, brilliant, hot, and just strange enough for me to find him completely fascinating. Plus, he was looking for Ms. Right to settle down with, have kids, and woo hoo, he lived in Los Angeles. Too good to be true, right? Right. It was great until I found out what his A.D.D. really meant. Unable to multi-task life or sit through an entire dinner. Meaning, can't have a girlfriend, a job, deal with heavy issues and basically deal with life at the same time. Plus, forget oral sex...way too difficult to concentrate long enough to give a girl what she needs. Now, before those of you with A.D.D. hate me, I truly am just speaking in regards to my experience with this one guy. I'm sure there are plenty of men with A.D.D. who cope better and rock in bed. Needless to say, I was sad my Knight in Shining Armor had one too many dings to fix. He equated to 0.3 because he at least originally showed up wanting commitment, he just wasn't capable of it.

Valentine number Three showed up about the same time as Two did, except he wasn't really invited. He was one of those who aren't on the list to your private club, but they manage to charm their way in past the velvet rope and the next thing you know you're kissing them and wondering, "what the hell happened here? " Not really my type for many reasons. 1) He's an actor. 2) He's 15 years older than me. (Yikes!) 3) He's recently divorced and still dating twenty year olds. 4) Oh yeah, he's an actor. Need I say more? So, there I was, trying not to get serious with this guy since he had no husband potential whatsoever. I mean, he told me outright that he was dating other women, which translated to sleeping with other women, and therefore I was pretty much just a number. Though he assured me I was amazing, gorgeous, smart, blah, blah, blah...aka, a special number.

So, we tried the friends thing, which didn't really work. I hate labels. So, we tried the ambiguous thing...but then I was downgraded. Women, you know what I mean. When you are dating multiple men, and they are dating multiple women, it's evident when your stock goes up or down, right? I mean, there are the weeks when you see them maybe three days in a row, or every other day and Saturday, and then there are the weeks when you drop to Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon. This means that you are just one in the portfolio, and though maybe still holding some value to your man, not the hot stock to watch on Saturday night any longer. Doesn't that feeling just blow? So, Mr. 3 had me at hello, but lost me at an empty condom box in his trashcan that had my name nowhere near it. And so he gets a 0.1 for the potential he would have had if I had met him ten years earlier when he was still a pup. {Note: Boys, when in fact screwing multiple women - please, please, please, I can't emphasize this enough - check for empty wrappers, boxes, or if you're really disgusting, shriveled condoms anywhere in the vicinity of your house, car, boat or whatever. It's just plain trashy to leave behind any evidence whatsoever. The same goes for candles, or any other "romantic" paraphenilia that doesn't normally belong out. Thank you.}

And that's my half a man. The other guys I met in between didn't really even deserve a decimal point, since they lived in other cities and resulted in a few late night phone calls or random emails. It should be nice to find a 10 someday, though in LA it sometimes feels about as elusive as the fabled unicorn I'm afraid.