The new trend in dating: Pen Pals

Its no secret that I go on a lot of first dates. Not deliberately.. I’m always hoping for a pen palsecond, third but you have to start somewhere. Since I work at home, finding first dates has largely come from the occasional IRL connection, and of course, the ubiquitous dating app. After a few atrocious experiences in 2014, I decided to take a break, assuming that my ‘dial a date’ apps would always be there as a source of ‘crap interviews with alcohol’. After a solitary few years I decided enough was enough and decided to get back in the game.

Which apparently now has new rules.

The first being that one is no longer required to go on a date. Connecting on an app now seems to largely involve texting. After all, why try and impress, pay for a drink or even put on pants? Why bother when you can just text?

What I first thought was bad luck has steadily emerged as a trend over the last few months. I kept finding myself on the receiving end of daily texts, photo shares and rambling conversations with dudes I’d never met. First I assumed the guy was busy. Then I assumed married or in a relationship. But after some thorough research, I learned that this is a new norm. The guys who show interest, have no interest in actually meeting. They just like chatting to random strangers.

When a first date didn’t happen for a few weeks, but the texts kept rolling in, it finally dawned on me that I was never going to meet this guy. After texting him to stop contacting me unless he was in Denver, ready for a date, I was met by a barrage of criticism. His main compliant? I’d “broken up with him” over text.

A man I’d never met, never had a date with, thought we were ‘in a relationship’ and he ‘couldn’t believe I’d end it without “discussion”.   I’m still trying to unstick my jaw from the floor on that one.

Next up a pilot who lives just 2 miles from my house, and as a pilot, only works 22 hrs a week. He seemed super interested, but again one week, then two weeks passed and I realized I’d landed myself another texting buddy.

Its now 8 months later and I’ve not had a single date. I’ve had 6 or 7 ‘wannabe’ texting buddies but haven’t even broken out my eyeliner, never mind my sexy pants. 

Being forced to google ‘text buddy, never wants to meet, why?’ at the age of 45 was humiliating even before I hit Search. That all the results were from teenage magazines, even more embarrassing. That I hadn’t realized guys my age want their egos stroked by as many chicks as a 13 yr old… well, I really should know better. These guys just wanted to know they were wanted. Interesting to some chick. ANY chick.

I had a pen pal as an 10 yr old.  It was boring then and its tedious now. You can’t go on a date with a text message and it sure won’t keep you warm in bed. So any guy now who wants to text me more than a few times,  gets an invitation to join ‘PenPalWorld’ right before I block his number.

A day on the nude beach

my first experience of naturism is more, a lot more, than I expected

naturistI like my body. It has its curves, it looks good in a dress, and I have no fear of being naked in the locker room at the gym. But while I’m ok with being nude, I have never seen the appeal of ‘naturism’ until my day on a nude beach last week.

I’m not much of sun worshipper these days, but when I decided to scope out some more idyllic beaches on vacation, was thrilled to hike to a ‘South Pacific’ setting with miles of sparsely populated sand. Plonking down my towel/Kindle/30 different factors of lotion/snacks/phone/water, I lay back, relaxed and thought of England. Perfection!

Except perfection really got even more awesome when a naked surfer type calmly walked from his towel to the ocean, tan as a nut and as shredded as coconut. After leaning back and stretching his not inconsiderable shoulders, he dived in..the last thing to disappear his pert, brown ass. I looked around expecting someone to ask for money, or perhaps a film crew but nope.. 2 minutes later another surf god headed in. Jaw.. in sand.

Feigning disinterest I waited for the glorious exit and wasn’t disappointed. Screw Daniel Craig’s Ursula Andress moment..these guys really could have charged money for those 60 seconds of full frontal. I couldn’t stop giggling to myself that this was ok, free, and oh-so-the-best decision of my life to date. I’m not ashamed to say that I grabbed my glasses for the next one. Unfortunately she was a woman… but hey, still glorious viewing. I always wanted tiny tanned tits.

A word of advice: if there’s going to be one nude beach you visit in your life, make it on an island where the only thing to do is surf. The bodies are insane.

After ogling a not inconsiderable amount of nekked hotness I started to realize what I perv I was being and not wanting to appear prudish, I took off my top.  Suddenly putting on sun cream felt all porny, and I made the executive decision to keep my bottoms firmly attached to my ass. Who needs a brown beaver?? Plus I didn’t think I had sun cream strong enough to prevent an extremely painful burn.

It was a glorious 5 hours. I swam, chatted, observed (a lot) and finally got used to all the bodies. It all seemed so normal, I even took off my bottoms then nodded off. Just as I was starting to gather my things to head home I thought ‘I sorta get the nude thing’. Its freeing, swimming feels amazing and for the ladies, its refreshing to ogle back after years of being the ogled. Wow.. I felt a a whole new perspective opened up.

Then a huge old hairy man with balls half way to his knees ambled over and plonked his towel down right next to me, staring at my tits as he rearranged his balls.

There are some things you really just don’t need to see. Even my glorious location couldn’t improve the sight of grey pubes, a saggy man sac, and bigger tits than mine.

A week later, when I think of my day, my mind doesn’t turn to the glistening hard bodies, the tanned pert butts or enviable tiny tits. Nope, I’m stuck with hairy old brown balls.

Naturism. It’s (unfortunately) for everyone.

Dear Mr. Leaf-blower

I know you wanted to be a Jedi Sir, but I’m here to tell you the truth. Your hourly walk up Image result for man leaf blowerand down the sidewalk by my house, armed with what amounts to an outside vacuum cleaner is no more protecting us from Stormtroopers than it is actually cleaning up leaves.

I understand the need to quell the rebellion Sir, but blowing leaves from the sidewalk onto the street, only to have a puff of wind skitter them back on the sidewalk is the very definition of idiocy. I applaud your tenacity Sir, I really do. Most people would give up on the leaf-blower at some point in order to go… well… have a life, but not you Sir. Not you.

Its been about 5 weeks now and as if by decree,  every day around 8am you begin leaf-blowing. I know you’ve run out of sidewalk at times Sir: I saw you heading up the street a few blocks, chasing those damn leaves to another street where they might choose to relocate. But then on your return, you see there are now new invaders to the street. Who.Must.Be.Denied.Vacancy. That seemed to really reinvigorate your search and fight against invading Storm-um – leaves. So I guess I’ll leave you to it. You will not be deterred I can see.

Until snow comes. Tee- Hee.

Oh shit.. I bet you’ve got a snow-blower.

Its not all about the bike Lance…


Its not all about the bike as Lance said (further proof of his ‘not quite human’ reputation).

As every cyclist knows, it’s about the bike, but it’s really all about the GEAR.

For me the obsession started young. Entering Davis’s Bike Shop, the local temple for the serious Sunday road junkie, I was awed by the ceiling of wheel-sets, the racks of steel greyhounds, and the unholy price tagged to each handlebar. I knew at a tender age that these four figured racehorses were out of my league (well, until my paper route started upping my 1 pound weekly salary), but those $6 gloves… THOSE I could afford. Sure they weren’t going to make me go any faster, but they did make me feel like Eddie Merckx, even if I was riding a second-hand racer with bald tires and non-existent brake pads.

And so my obsession was born.

It started small (at $1 a week, it had to). Gloves were followed by my first pair of tights (unpadded). A helmet entered my world in college, and padded shorts arrived with my first post college spurge. With the arrival of mountain biking in 1986, and my first Muddy Fox (RIP), I bought my first lock, gloves with padding and a bike bag. With a water bottle and cage, I was really cruising… until all of it was stolen on my first trip out. Thanks to insurance, I was able to quickly replace everything… until it was all stolen again 6 months later. And so began my entry into ‘insurance upping’ my bike kit.

Lets just say, I went to college on a Muddy Fox and left college on a Kona. With non standard pedals.

But my lust for accessories continued unabated. Mountain biking demanded it. Things broke. New things were invented. Friends had stuff you hadn’t even heard of…and then there were the boys.

Cycling meant riding with boys. Which inevitably led to the nightmare that is ‘dating a fellow cyclist’. Otherwise known as crack addicts with 2 wallets and zero judgement between them. Who better to encourage you onto a new ride, hell, 2 bikes, 3, do we have room for 4? My knowledge of wheel sets, rims, cranks and gears hit ‘professional’ by the time I hit 26. My ability to discourse on steel vs. aluminum, single speed vs. fixie bored even my local bike shop crew but my husband could listen for hours. We sneered along with Bike Snob, and spent our Sunday afternoons checking out the accessories section of every local bike shop we could find. We’re now divorced but I still miss him.. and his extensive knowledge of the one day classic winners (1980-). He also bought the BEST Christmas gifts, though my parents were less impressed with my new pedals than I was.

At the age of 43 I can finally afford to turn over those tags hanging from the handlebars of  ‘greyhound’ bikes. I can, if I’m willing to forgo protein for a few months, afford that new full suspension 26.5 to sit alongside my 29-er.

Instead you’ll usually find me hanging out in the gear section of my local bike shop with my fellow gear heads. We’re checking out the accessories to make our rides faster, our butts less offensive and our gear changing smoother. We’re grabbing the new bike tee and you always need more tubes right? We’re rejecting the big name stores who only stock 1 type of bike cage for the local shop that totally understands you need to choose from 15. Local bike shops we love you. You get it. Its all about the gear. Boulders University Bikes, Buena Vista’s Boneshaker Cycles, Aptos Bike Station.. you get it. And thank you for getting as excited about my new gloves as I am.

Sorry Lance. It’s not ALL about the bike. We know it’s all about the GEAR.  But while I’ve got you, do you know what a Surly Tugnut is for and why do I need it? Because I’m  definitely buying one.

How not to have a first date

01 undateableLast night I went on a date with a thoroughly cynical and defensive person. They were judgmental, a little mean and way too intense for a first date. I don’t think I’d like a second date, in fact I think that person really needs to chill the fuck out.

Unfortunately, that person was me.

After years of good dates but mainly bad ones; dates where I interviewed them, they interviewed me; dates where the guy clearly was more interested in someone else, or in outing himself; dates where he mumbled one word answers or said nothing at all. Dates with Republicans, liars and a paraplegic (who didn’t tell me about his status until he arrived at our date). 23 minute dates (my record), 2 hour dates, dates with stoners, angry men and lonely guys … I think I’ve finally arrived at ‘undateable’. Not them… me.

When faced with someone who seemed pleasant, open, friendly, attractive and complimentary, my response? Intense desire to ‘wise this guy up’ to the realities of dating.

His desire to be courteous and communicative prior to us meeting was met with instant dismissal as ‘cloying’. His sweet emails and texts? Desperate. His expressed excitement in advance of our first date? Sad. Poor dude. Doesn’t stand a chance.

My date is newly separated and hasn’t been on many dates; so instead of spending my time getting to know him, I silently plotted all of the indignities he would suffer down the road of the online dater. The women who’d stalk him. Those who’d never call. Those who would date him only for his money. The woman who’d misrepresent themselves; the liars, the fakers , the hot mess needed fixing. The women with drink problems. Pill problems. Baby daddy problems. The frigid women. The cheating women. Oh boy, he really was going to get his open little heart smashed. As he talked, my mind was thinking of all the thousands of ways this poor dumb schmuck was going to get hurt once he actually dived into dating again. How all of his sweetness, he naivete, his hopefulness was going to be crushed within months and how ill prepared he seemed to actually be dating.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, this was how I spent my date.

Thinking about all the ways my date was going to be crushed.. just like me… by trying to find love.

Yes. I know. Its fucked up.

Clearly I’ve been out there too long. I’ve lost hope. I’ve certainly wised up, but I think I’ve developed a skin akin to Donatella Versace.. impenetrable by human touch, water (and potentially hydrochloric acid). I don’t trust anyone on their words anymore and my expectations apparently are somewhere in the Marianas trench. Deep  below the ground.

And I wasn’t aware of any of this until I actually met a nice guy.

He didn’t call the cops, and he made it through dinner, but holy cow, if I ever see him again, he moves to the top of my list of ‘nice guys’. Me.. I think I need some serious therapy and to permanently end this quest for companionship. I think old lady with 60 cats is more approachable than me with 7 years of post divorce dating under my belt.  Sure she might wear a lot of hand knits and an odor of pee, but at least she won’t rip her date’s head off when he offers up a complement.

Time for me to go find my hope. because right now, I’m un-fucking-dateable.

(on the plus side, he’s apparently a saint because he wants to take another run at it next weekend). Wish me luck.





The CSC Guide to swimware – Mens edition

01 man thongIts summer, its hot and, unless you’re Amish, that probably means its time to break out the swimwear. But – quelle horror! – what to wear? Swimsuit, Bikini, Tankini, Monokini, Brazilian briefs, the David Beckham pocket pouch or your Eurotrash speedos? So many options. But before you swear off the pool/beach/park or start ‘googling’ ‘Mormon swimwear’ (I dare you), I bring you my guide to swimwear for all ages, shapes and situations.  There’s something for everyone…yes, even you. Starting today with the guys. Ladies.. read on for a preview of what you might be seeing this year around the pool.

1. The Douche Bag

01 baggy boardFor many years, the Douche bag, long baggy short was all you saw at the pool or on the beach in the US. It hid chicken legs, pot bellies and god forbid, any chubbies that might *ahem* arise. I get it – it was safe, plus you didn’t need to change if you headed off somewhere and what’s a dude if not lazy. Now beloved of funneling spring breakers and spotty adolescents at the local rec center, the Douche bag signals a man with no control over his erections, a predilection for pushing people in the water or trying to drown them for no reason, or a fast approaching weight problem. If non of these resonate with you, its time to evolve. Ditch the Douche bag and move on. The ladies will love you for it.

 2. The New Baggy

01 perfectOk, so maybe you still can’t control those erections and despite just knocking out 20 sit ups you’ve still got a bit of a pooch. Check out the ‘new Baggy’.

No Douch baggery here.

They’re not short shorts (no-one is checking out your sphincter muscle when you bend over) and they’re somewhat form-fitting. So us ladies can actually check out your butt when you get out of the water, AND you can hide the result of cold water.

And no, they don’t may you look gay, they’re innocuous and most importantly, you won’t look like a member of Justin Beibers posse.

3. The Daniel Craig

01 daniel craigGratuitous shot for the ladies, but honestly guys, what’s wrong with this picture?


The Daniel Craig – a short for real men. Yes they’re tight, but they still cover all of your “assets” and there’s not even a suggestion of man thong going on here. Goddamn it, they even have racing stripes and a safety drawstring for those strong rip tides. Of course, if your upper body looks like Mr. Peanut these might not be for you, but if you’re in possession of even a suggestion of a pec or an ab, you might want to pull the ripcord and declare your manhood. These shorts say ‘I’m in control and if you can check out my packet, have at it ladies’ You know, but in a classy way.

4. The Man Bag

01 metallic suitAre you supremely confident? Do you possess the body of a professional athlete ?(sorry, bowling doesn’t count) Do you have a body fat percentage in the low digits and want to show it off? Are you willing to shave off your ‘highway to heaven’?

These are the shorts for you Sir.

The Man bag still leaves something to the imagination (well, we can’t actually see the details of what’s in the bag), but not so much that us ladies can’t decide whether we’ll date you. Full coverage at the rear (you’re aware that no-one needs to see your steroid pimpled ass), but wowser, a metallic, wet look display case for your frontage. These babies put you on display, and, unless you’ve got the buttocks of a Russian Gymnast, watch out for any strong waves.  The Man Bag.. for a man who’s got plenty in the bag and isn’t afraid to show it off.

Disclaimer: These shorts should not be used by anyone under the age of 21 or anyone in a long-term relationship with anyone of either sex. We might be laughing, but we admire your confidence. Best used while reading Camus or Dostoevsky around the pool (you don’t want sand in these babies) to indicate you’re not a total douche.

6. The Frightener

01 low cut briefDo women routinely chat you up in bars? Are you always getting hit on when you’re doing your grocery shopping or just filling up with gas? Fed up with women approaching you for no reason? The Frighten-er is for you.

A thong brief for the supremely fed up, the Frightener does what it says on the label. It literally scares away those who might otherwise be trying to find out where you live or your marital status. With full baggage on display both front and back, plus a back up ‘transparent when wet’ app, only the most foolhardy or ocular challenged would dare approach you in these babies. Perfect if you just want a quiet day by the pool or on the beach. Best of all, you’ll find the Frightener only works with women, so they’re great for meeting new fellow Frightener wearers or very old European men.

 7. The Display Case

01 frighteningFinding the Frightner a little too conservative for your taste? Want to stand out from your fellow Frightener while maximizing your tan? Already shave every inch of hair from you body?

The Display case is for you!

Simply, it does what it says on the label – displaying your wears for fellow beach goers to admire.

Yes, we’ll admit that your tan might be a little stripey and, yes, your ability to hide any “limitations” is extremely challenging in this swimsuit, but if you’ve got it, we say ‘flaunt it’.

Display case wearers rave about the attention that their ‘case’ attracts while out and about during the summer;

“My Display Case is ‘full’ of achievements”

“The dollar bills fit right through my slots!”

“It’s also great for filing business case cards during a busy day at the pool”

8. The Sling shot

01 uniballFed up with those annoying tan lines from your other suits? Blessed with a small package? Want all eyes on you, and only you this summer.. The Slingshot is for you.

A feat of modern engineering, the Sling shot cups your external features and hooks over one leg to provide a modicum of support and a stylish place to rest your cellphone. Rotate the direction of your Slingshot on a daily basis to equalize your tan. Oh, and you might want to spend the day thinking about your grandma or Margaret Thatcher so you don’t get arrested for indecent exposure. There is, of course, only so much the Slingshot can cover.

NOTE: This swim suit is not appropriate for Lance Armstrong, Tom Green or anyone with one ball or possessing human dignity. CSC will not be held responsible for any car, bike or Rollerblade accidents as a result of your Slingshot appearance.

So there you have it guys, every option for every guy who’s ever wondered ‘what should I wear to the beach’. And no matter which way you go, you’re safe in the knowledge that you look better than this guy.

01 man swimsuit

Men and Women: Some-insane-planet-we-don’t-understand and Venus

cans of tunaI’ve always been a solid believer that men and women are homosapians with different wobbly bits and preferences for what constitutes a great Monday evening, but largely.. we’re the same.

As a kid, many of my friends were of the male persuasion and I found them more like me than most of the budding girlie tweens I was surrounded by. They certainly shared my disinterest in makeup, kissing and hair flicking.

Our time was more productively spent – building shit and then knocking it down. Dams, bonfires, cairns, forts (blanket and tree based), me and the fellas were practicing our future ‘masters of the universe’ skills while the girls giggled in corners and practiced putting on mascara.

Hmmm. And we wonder about the source of power imbalance between men and women? I guess when woman get rewarded for make up application and accessorizing, then we’ll rule the world. But I digress.

Over time I recognized that neither men or women were ‘better’ and that while we had different approaches to many things (professional sports, shoes, salary negotiation), we remained essentially of the same species.

We all want love. We all need to be engaged in something where we contribute and feel successful. We need connection, even if that means a text message to one person or an 6 hour chat to another, and we all feel a degree of stewardship for something – whether its our kids, our houses, the planet or just plain being nice to each other.

But lately I’m noticing that while men and women aren’t really that different, where we really diverge is on the small things. The tiny little everyday acts that go relatively unnoticed. These are the thing we don’t think about, but which lately has me questioning whether we really are the same species. Or maybe we’re all just a little wackadoo.

Evidence #1: My relationship to canned tuna.

I never used to like tuna. It smelled like cat food and to be honest, didn’t look much different. Yewch. But right around 3 years ago when I realized that pasta + can of tuna + pesto = yummy 10 minute dinner, my attitude did a 180. Add in spinach and -wha-hey- you’ve practically made a gourmet meal. Where had tuna been all my life?

So I stocked up on tuna. Way up.

I think I ate that meal for around 6 weeks in a row by which time the checkout assistants  at my local Whole Foods were starting to raise their eyebrows at my singular shopping cart.

  • 12 cans on tuna
  • 3 bags GF pasta
  • 1 jar pesto
  •  3 bags frozen spinach

Not quite crazy cat lady, but I was easy to spot amongst the piled high carts of my yuppy mummy counterparts. Why 12 cans? Well… that way I knew I would always have a meal ready to go.. you know.. when I couldn’t be bothered to think. And apparently that summer I couldn’t be bothered to think AT ALL.

Sometime around fall, my palate woke up and said ‘No-more-fucking-tuna-goddammit’ and I moved onto a new obsession with broccoli and chicken sausage. Thank god.

Unfortunately I couldn’t stop the ‘got-to-have-a-few-cans-of-tuna-in-the-cupboard’ urge every time I hit the store, with the result that when I downsized from my house to a 770 sq foot apartment,  I took enough tuna with me to feed a small Asian nation (and completely fill my kitchen).

These days I’m ‘safe’ if I have about 6 cans.. but its taken a lot of mindfulness to ‘let it go'(and my therapist just bought a Lexus).

Other women I talk to have similar experiences.. whether its toothpaste or TP, clean underwear or mascara, we all seem to have our ‘blanky’ items that we just need to have ‘enough’ of in order to feel ‘ok’.

Men on the other hand. Men seem to lack this gene entirely. Evidence?

1. Toilet paper

No self respecting women, single or mother to 24 kids, buys her TP in anything less than a 12 pack. Most of us suck it up and lump around the grocery store with the 24 wedge (why can’t they put a shoulder strap on that fucker?) figuring its one less thing we need to buy this fiscal quarter. Men on the other hand.. men consider it good if there’s a box of tissues in the house. Stand in the paper aisle looking for the 2 pack before reluctantly picking up the 4 roll minimum.

I’ve witnessed guys teasing out the final 2 sheets to last a few days, who, when asked about lack of TP in the guest bathropom, will actively relocate a roll from another bathroom (after all, why have TP in every bathroom?). Guys seem to have no urgency or concern about having zero TP in the house, and yet..they too still have some of the same needs? (I’ve heard). I don’t know about you, but spying only 2 rolls in the house makes me nervous, but a guy, he’s set until June.

2. Laundry

A guy will look at his wardrobe, empty hangers connected by spider webs and a single pair of pants he hasn’t fit into since 1989 and turn to his second closet for his outfit – the laundry hamper. In fact he’ll do this until it rains or snows (he draws the line at wet jeans, c’mon he’s not a heathen). No clean underwear? Turn it inside out. Still no clean underwear? Go commando. Never mind that the laundry mountain has taken over an entire quarter of a room..he’s good as long as he takes a shower. After all.. as long as he’s clean.. his clothes? Optional.

Now ladies. Have you ever met a woman who turns her underwear inside out to ‘double dip’? How about picking a top out of the laundry not once, but 3 or 4 times? not so much?

See guys, when we say ‘we have nothing to wear’ we don’t actually mean ‘there are no clothes which have not already lain on the floor for a week or two, and may or may not be cultivating a new species of staph’. We just mean we’ve only got 12 pairs of black boots to choose from and non.of.them.are.right.

3. Dishes

I grew up in a house without a dishwasher so that role was filled by my father. In fact, it was his sole household chore for the 18 years I lived at home. So my belief that women and men had similar opinions about things such as dishes was clearly built on a skewed perspective of one household.

I now know better.

Women. We hate dishes. Loathe them. Hate loading and unloading them. But we do it. Hell, we even pre soak or pre rinse. Because – you know – god forbid that we’d have to wash them twice or *gasp* by hand. And if you’re feeding yourself, or other people, nothing sucks more than having to quickly scrub dishes or forks to make it work.

Men on the other hand…. Dishes are an optional activity, only stimulated by the usage of every plate, fork, bowl and knife in the kitchen AND the curbing of take out due to ‘end of the month syndrome’. Generally men can coordinate these two acts so they never occur at the same time, rendering the need to clean dishes more of a quarterly activity. I’ve known men who will buy more dishes rather than wash the dishes they have. And by wash, I do mean ‘put in the dishwasher and press and button’.

Even if they get that far, unloading? That’s for OCD people. The dishwasher is just a different form of storage for most guys I know. I remember visiting one guys house where the dishes were lined up for washing, and when I asked why he didn’t put them in the dishwasher was told ‘oh, there are some clean forks in there’.

I’m grinding my teeth even thinking about it and I haven’t seen him or his dishes in years.

4. Tidy vs. Clean

Women… even the slobbiest of us, keep a pretty clean house. And even the dirtiest of us… those who only clean the bath when they know they’ve having visitors (who me?).. we’re still pretty tidy. Some of us hardworking, saintly selves manage both (who are you and what is your secret?).. after all, there’s only so much crap you can endure before you lose your mind (and your car keys).

Men? Well I will not deny that there are men out there who are both tidy and clean. Their houses sparkle with Windex, no dust speck mars their LCD tv and you could eat off their floors should you so wish. I dream of these men and I’ve even met some. I realized no woman wouldn’t ever match up to this guys standards as I was blinded by my reflection in their toaster (after all, when would do all the other important stuff like reading gossip online?). But most of the men I know…

Lets just say, they’re one or the other. Rarely both. And largely neither.

I thank the lord for those who can afford cleaners, for those who know that a tumbleweed in the living room isn’t going to get him laid, and who hire, cajole or force themselves to moderate the chaos. But largely, if you’re a dude, married or single, I know you’re putting stuff in piles, swiffering the dust underneath the sofa and washing your shavings out of the basin with your hand and calling it good.

How men and women ever live together I will never know. I can only assume he comes with 12 cans of tuna or something.

Lies I’ve been told: The Men Edition

PinochioA report out today said that within the US, the average person tells 13 lies every day (and yes, I totally made that up). But lies are a fact (?) of life.. and over time you get pretty savvy about being able to spot them. The lies men tell you? Well lets just say us ladies spend a lot of time on the learning curve.

Here are some of the lies I’ve been told… read them, remember them and don’t be fooled. Sorry but he’s not different and yes, he is lying.

I forgot my wallet

Unless the guy is standing in front of you with no pants .. sorry but he’s lying. Unlike women, men have pockets for 2 things – keys and money. So unless he forgot to put on pants, he didn’t forget.. he chose to leave his money at home.  Which means you’re paying.. something he decided before you’d even put on your underwear.  I fell for this one so many times with one guy that I actually bought him a wallet chain. Which he ‘lost’.

Yes.. I was that gullible.

I love women who don’t wear makeup

No, no you don’t. What you think you like – me au natural -is the result of 15 minutes of tinted moisturizer, concealer, powder, eyeliner, blush and lip tint. Those times when you think I’m looking a bit ill? That’s me without makeup. However this one isn’t a lie they know they’re telling.. so I guess they get a pass.

I think you look gorgeous at any size

Aka.. yes your butt does look fat in that. He’ll never say it, but this lie generally means ‘you could lose a few’. Sure he thinks you look gorgeous. After all, you are the one who’s sleeping with him and hell, if he didn’t find you attractive he wouldn’t be doing that. But ‘gorgeous at any size’? Really? Honey Boo Boo mother size? Gabourey Sidibe (aka Precious) size? I’m going to go with –no– but thanks for being nice.

I love dogs

Yes all men love dogs. In fact most men love dogs SO much they’d totally have one or two.. except they just don’t have time for one right now. But they love them…right up to around Date 4 when they suddenly find that they don’t love dogs as much as they thought. “Do you have to bring your dog over with you?” “Does your dog have to watch us in bed?” “Why can’t your dog stay at home over night without you?” “Can your dog sleep outside the tent cos he’s kind of stinky?” Reality – the only guys who love dogs are those who have them. The rest.. well they’re just ashamed cat people.

I don’t have time for a relationship right now

What he means is ‘with you’. In fact, the only time he has available for you is when he’s had 7 beers and is feeling kinda horny, or he needs an ego boost. Its been said a million times, but if a guy wants to be with you.. he’ll make time. Even POTUS makes time. If he can’t make time.. its because he doesn’t want to.  Weirdly enough, guys rarely say that don’t have time for a shag… why is that? Hmmmm.

I’ll call you.

No. No you won’t. The guy who wants to see you again actually says ‘we’ll talk soon’ or ‘I’ll give you a ring on Tuesday’ or even ‘See you again soon’.  But pay close attention.. a guy who isn’t going to call, always .. to a man.. says ‘I’ll call you’. Why? What you didn’t hear was the word ‘never‘ that he mentally added to the sentence. So while you’re checking your phone every 10 minutes for the next 6 days, he’s already forgotten your name. So if you hear those words at the end of your date, I’m sorry but save yourself some time.

I’ll just put in the tip

.. quickly followed by everything else. Don’t fall for this lie ladies.. Just as no man ever climbed up Everest but stopped 10 feet from the top because he figured ‘good enough’, no guy has ever gotten into your pants for ‘just the tip’.  He’s planting the flag ladies, regardless of what he says.

Porn does nothing for me.

Rigghhhhhttt.  Ladies, every guy looks at porn. Every. single. one. And no, your guy isn’t different. He’s lying. In fact, last year a group of researchers in Montreal were unable to carry out a study comparing the views of men who had never watched porn with those of regular users.  Why? Because they couldn’t find any men who didn’t look at porn. Non. Because all guys look at porn. Which has to lead me to the conclusion that it does do something for guys. All guys. (sorry).

And finally.. sadly…

Of course I love you

Skrrreeek. Everyone loves to hear ‘I Love You’ but when he adds qualifiers or modifiers around those three delightful words… well… hate to break it…. but ….well.. he might not, actually, love you. What he is actually saying is more along the lines of ‘Do we really need to get into this now?’ or ‘I don’t, but I really don’t want to have to break up with you just yet’ or ‘women.. so damn insecure’. None of which are actually a declaration of love. And don’t get me started on that whole Patrick Swayze ‘ditto’ crap… that’s about as loving as pottery is sexy.

(NOTE: I asked a girlfriend for some of the lies that men have told her and she replied ‘Sorry but I’ve never been lied to by a man’……yes, I’m still laughing)

Dating ‘dad’

dadAs every single woman over the age of 30 knows, at some point you’re going to be faced with potentially dating a ‘dad’.

NOTE: ‘A’ dad, not ‘Your dad’. If you’re dating your dad, you have bigger issues and excuse me, I need to go throw up now.

In your 20s’ everyone you date is single and childless (unless you live in Mississippi or Kentucky). In your 30s, there are a few divorcees scattered around but few if any have kids.  These days, in my 40s’, every other guy has kids.. and wow its definitely a different experience.

You see, if you’ve never had kids, you’ve never had all those unique experiences that parents have had. You’ve never spent a sleepless night walking a screaming baby around the house, you’ve never changed a diaper and you sure as hell don’t prioritize anyone over yourself (except maybe your dog). Which means dating a dad, when you’ve never been a mom.. well… it taking a bit of getting used to.

Because dad’s are all about loving their kids. Putting them first (or a very close second), having a life that revolves around their needs. Dad’s don’t expect to have all of their time to themselves, to get to choose how they spend all their free time, and they certainly don’t own their finances any more (have you seen how much college costs these days?).  And while I think parenting is awesome (and god bless you patient weirdos), I can’t relate in any way to your experience. Which sort of makes first dates with a dad, well..a bit strained.

But dad’s make up 90% of the dating population over 40, so unless you’re really really adamant, you’re going to end up dating a dad one day. Here’s some dad’s to watch out for;

1. ‘My kids are my life’ Dad

Oh we’ve all read this guy’s profile. Usually the first or second line in his profile, having kids was the best thing he ever did.. like ever. And no matter if they’re 2 or 22, they’re still the best thing in his life… in fact, they probably are his life. I’ve dated a few of these guys and every single one, while warm, communicative and caring, also had no life outside of his kids. Hobbies? No time for that. Friends? Does the parents of my kids friends count? Interests? What my kids are up to… oh and Xbox.. which I play with my kids.

This guy is awesome, selfless and devoted. To his kids. Which doesn’t leave much room for you. So unless you want to absorb yourself into his kid centric, kid saturated world.. you might want to pass.

2. Absent Dad

This dad has kids, but you’d never know. He never mentions them, he’s eager to assure you that he barely sees them and he’s got a very full life of which they have no part. On the face of it a better option that Dad #1, but what kind of asshole isn’t involved in their kids lives at all? You know that dating him is going to be no different than dating someone without kids, but selfless, caring, responsible? Not this guy. Kids were something he had, and other people now raise and care about. He sends the checks (or doesn’t) so he figures his parenting is taking care of.  Yikes. Run, run far away from this Dad. Or be prepared for footing some serious therapy bills for his kids down the line.

3. Bitter Dad

This guy has kids and boy, you’re going to hear all about it. How much money he has to pay in alimony, how his ex wife is ruining his life, how he takes more responsibility for them and how she’s undermining him in their relationship. Bitter dad might love his kids but that’s not foremost on his mind. She is. He’s still nursing wounds from his divorce, realizing how much work it is to look after them during ‘his time’ and boy, is he pissed about it. During a date with one bitter dad I felt like calling his ex wife and offering her my support. How she’d stayed married to that jackass for 7 years, I don’t know. This guy, kids or not, needs some time and a lot of therapy. And unless you’re a saint (or therapist in training), you might want to skip him.

4.Sex mad dad

They stayed together to try and make it work- because of the kids. His ex deprived him of marital relations for the last 1, 2 or 5 years of their marriage and now, well now he’d making up for lost time. He can’t believe that chicks who wouldn’t have touched him in his 20s, are now waiting for his call.  So he calls. And he dates. Everyone.  Plus with 5-10 years experience with the ex, he’s got some skills this time around so he’s in demand. He can’t believe his luck. And neither will you. That is, until someone younger, cuter and less demanding than you comes along.

5. ‘Looking for Mom 2.0’ Dad

This guy seems to have it figured out. He loves his kids (but they don’t run his life). He’s attentive and involved, and he and his ex have a great relationship. He cooks, he takes care of things.. in fact, he’s perfect. So what if he asks you to pick up little Stacey from her ballet class, or wonders if you’d mind coming with him to watch Tyler play soccer? You don’t mind.. after all, he has kids. But when you find yourself helping out with homework while he watches Homeland, or you’re running the kids to the dentist, ask yourself if you’re ready to be a Mom. Because it sure looks like you’re one in training.  Dating is about you and him, and eventually the kids. But you’re not dating them and unless there’s a ring involved, you’re not duty bound to be Mom 2.0. They have people for that – they’re called nannies and they get paid.

6. Judgmental Dad

This guy is fine with your decision not to have kids. Fine. I mean, a life lived purely for the pursuit of the self is ok for some. Just not him. He prefers to live responsibly, you know.. like all ‘normal’ people do. Its what everyone does… right? And if you prefer to hang out in bars, spend all your money and time on making yourself feel good, that’s your decision. It wouldn’t be his.. but you know, but everyone’s different. Judgmental Dad doesn’t ‘get’ women who aren’t Moms and clearly they should stay away from us. Us being so ‘abnormal’ and all. But like moths to a flame they can’t help themselves. After all, its a lot less complicated when there is only one set of kids involved in the dating process. Its only when they’re confronted by our selfish, hedonistic existence in the flesh that they find themselves compelled to judge. They can’t help it. I don’t know if these guys resent us, think we’re not really women or envy us, but damn, they sure don’t like us.  My last judgmental dad date assured me that while I was ‘doomed to die alone’, he was, at least ‘going to die surrounded by love’. Well Sir, here’s hoping you don’t piss off the kids over the next 40 years because I don’t think having kids guarantees you any kind of ending.

And finally, we have ‘Unicorn Dad’.

Unicorn dad (an urban myth I’m sure) is the guy who loves and supports his kids, respects his ex, lives a life outside of parenting and doesn’t expect anything from you as far as raising his kids go.  He’s not bitter and he doesn’t care whether you’ve had kids or the reasons why. I’ve heard such men exist.. but if attractive, are rarely single. So if you find one, let me know.. or at least take a picture.

Meanwhile I’ll be out dating the selfish lush with the vasectomy.

Why you’re not long term potential

panic-hands-due-man-afraidMy friend Steve is a fellow ‘mature’ Match dater who’s been reading my blog and wanted to share some insight from a man’s perspective. Here’s his thoughts on why the guy you’ve been on a few dates with might not consider you a long term prospect.

  1. You drink too much

Its one thing to loosen up before the first date, but if you’re regularly ‘loose’ before every subsequent date, you’re probably not long term potential. Throwing back those rum and cokes mid week, every week, until you’re sorta sloppy drunk? Definitely not long term potential. Unless it a major celebration, a holiday or you just won the lottery, throwing back the booze during a date is a sign that you’re someone who likes to ‘party’. Doing it every date.. a definite sign that something’s amiss and this isn’t for the long haul.  You might be lovely (but nervous), charming (but lacking in self confidence) and a perfect match for us.. but we won’t stick around if you’re slurring ‘letsh go back to your placesh’. Of course this does mean you’re very much short term potential.. but I’m guessing you didn’t want to know that.

2. You refer to your ex(s) more than once in single evening

If you were nodding at #1 on this list, you’re probably also guilty of this one. If you find yourself referring to your ex more than once during a date.. you’re probably not long term potential – yet. In a few months, a year.. maybe… but for now… we get the sense you’re still a bit hung up on him. Of course its easy to spot to those recently scarred and still processing stuff – shouting ‘the bastard’ after mentioning his name tends to give it away. Misty eyed remembrances don’t help us feel good either. Its awesome that you love your ex, but you’re on a date with ME and frankly it makes me uncomfortable to know that you’re spending our date thinking about him. And no, using the term ‘we’ (as in ‘we hiked the Grand Canyon, we used to hang out at The Tavern all the time) isn’t any better.  Everyone has a romantic past at this point, but please can you limit bringing them on the date with us? I mean your ex sounds awesome.. but I don’t think I want to date him.

3. You’re so intent on being confident that we can’t relate to you

Men love a confident woman. It signals that we’re not going to spend every minute of every day reassuring you about your looks, your job, your friends or our feelings (which we like to do, but just not all.the.time). A woman who knows her value and her own mind is a good thing.. but you can have too much of a good thing. If you spend the entire date telling us how awesome you are, how wonderful your life is and everything in it is just amazing.. its pretty clear that you really don’t want or need a man in your life. Frankly, you’re scaring us. No-one can relate to perfection and someone who puts themselves on a pedestal.. well there’s confidence and then there’s false gutter bravado. If you’re overly confident, smug or arrogant… we know that we’re never going to measure up to your standards. But I think George Clooney is single…?

4. You eschew anything feminine

Being feminine isn’t a sign of weakness girls. Heads up – we’re guys. You’re a woman. If we wanted to date a dude, we’d be on Grindr (it sounds a hell of a lot easier). You don’t need to grab your crotch, swear like a sailor or recite the Eagles 2012 draft picks in order to be attractive (no matter how many of you want to be that chick in Silver Linings Playbook). If this is who you are – go for it. After all a tomboy can be attractive, but a chick who doesn’t have any feminine vibes about her..? Friend zone. We like women. Who are women..all flavors. And no, this doesn’t mean you need to wear a skirt or have big nails. Women who like being women have a poise about them and they’re not trying to ‘out dude’ us. Women who want to be guys..? Two words. Chas Bono. Who I do not want to date.

5. “Stage 5 clinger.. we have a Stage 5 clinger alert”

Dating is fun. And we get as excited as you do after a great date. Really. We want to show you that we’re interested, but we don’t want to come on too strong. We know its a balance and not knowing what you think or feel is part of dating can be fun. We’re adults and we know getting to know each other is a bit of a dance. Which is why ‘clingers’ freak us out. There’s no dance. Its straight up ‘I REALLY LIKE YOU’ from the get go.. all the time. If you’ve said ‘I love you’ too fast, if you’ve cried after sex or you’re calling us ‘your boyfriend’ after 2 dates.. sorry, but you’re a ‘clinger’. You want a man, any man, more than anything. In fact, we feel like you’ve put us at the center of your universe.. which frankly is terrifying when you don’t even know us. Is your life that empty? So if you’re blowing up my phone with texts after a date or two, if you’re asking me to help you move, fix your car, come look at houses.. yikes. We’re screening your calls. Actually, I think I just got a job in Alaska.

6. Making it all about sex

Yes we’re dudes. We think about sex. A lot. And if we’re straight, we spend a lot of time thinking about women. And their bodies. And.. well, you get the picture. But when we go on a date, we actually want to spend time getting to know you. Find out whether your profile was true, find out whether we have chemistry. We don’t go on a date to learn all about what you can and can’t do with your mouth. Or how much you want to do X, Y or Z. Or what you did with some dude in the parking lot this one time. I mean, we’ll listen… (hey, I’m a dude), but does this make you someone we want to date?  Not so much.  If you think that we’re only interested in sex, and you make the date all about sex or the promise of sex.. well that’s how we view you.  As someone to have sex with. If we know you’re that eager to sleep with a dude you just met… well we know you’re probably eager to sleep with anyone. Which doesn’t mean we’ll say no to the offer (well not always), but it doesn’t make us think of you as a long term girlfriend. We might… I guess… but probably not.

7. And finally… the crazy.

Don’t judge me, but we can spot crazy. Inconsistent, irrational, hysterical and out and out unstable .. crazy comes in many flavors. And crazy can be fun. But its also tiring and comes with a lot of work.  And call me lazy… but I’m not that crazy about crazy.

So there you have it. 7 reasons why your date might not be adding you to his contact list. Of course, he could also just not like you.

Disclaimer: To the man who I looked at in the Apple store

 A look is just a look

Hey Man from the Apple store. It’s me. The chick at the Genius bar who just glanced at you for a microsecond yesterday.

Yes, I know you’re scared.

I can tell from your rictus grin and look of abject horror.

While you might think that nano second when our eyes met has forged a contract in my eyes, and I  now believe us to be married and am in fact impregnated with your firstborn. But honestly it was just a look. Nothing more. I’m sorry. I was just looking around.

I know that you’ve been taught that any unsought attention from a woman signals aggression, obsession and not a small bit of mental illness but honestly, I want you assure you that I’m not psychotic. In fact, I’m quite sane. And no, by glancing at you when I walked up to the Genius bar, we didn’t enter a social contract that now means I’m entitled to 50% of your assets and your parents cabin in Vail. And while I might be guilty of the slightest upturn in my lips, this doesn’t mean that I have already staked out a position in front of your house and poisoned your dog. And while, yes, I did momentarily think you were quite cute, I haven’t actually picked out our china or booked the honeymoon just yet.  It was just a look. A brief appraisal of the Apple store patrons. My eyes literally slid over your face. Nothing more.

Your look of horror was a little overwrought I think. I’m not that unattractive.

And while our eyes did briefly connect, I have not and will not be posting extensive missives on Missed Connections about what just occurred and asking you to contact me. 

But please don’t read this as criticism. Its not. I know that you don’t know what to do in the presence of someone of the opposite sex any more. Women, especially one going about her business while looking people in the eye, can be really very scary. And I realize that you need an app to provide you with detailed instructions on what to do when a woman looks at you, I’m here to tell you its ok.
We’re as confused and nervous as you are. 

Yes, I know that women have spent the last 20 years kicking the shit out of you, behaving like lunatics, desperately trying to get you to ‘define’ your relationship after the second date and trying to find out what your text meant when you used ALL CAPS, but I want to let you know that, honestly, we’re both in the same boat. We don’t know how to talk to you – like a normal person- either. After years of misreading the signals, waiting by the phone, analyzing emails and texts and still managing to completely misjudge the situation, we don’t know how to behave around men at all.
I swear, I had more game in elementary school that I do today.

After receiving years and years of feedback from friends, family, coworkers and, god help us, self help books, we’re trying so hard to be feminine, fun and flirty (but not too much), high value but approachable, aloof and yet warm, open while retaining an air of mystery, that we’re pretty much incapable of opening our mouths at this point.(And to think that we just used to worry about looking cute). We don’t want you to think we’re not interested, nor do we want you to think that we spend out evenings wearing a tin foil hat and pushing a shopping cart. Which results in pretty much staring at our phones and hoping that one day fate will smile on us and you might have some reason to throw us a glance. On occasion we might look up from our phones, and I’m sorry, but you happened to be in my line of sight.

So don’t worry, Man from the Genius Bar, I might have glanced in your general direction, but I wouldn’t be capable of having a conversation with you, a perfect stranger, even if I wanted to. My small talk is limited to obsessing about CrossFit and whether I spend too much time on Facebook. Neither of which makes for a riveting conversation.

In conclusion, I’m sorry if my glance caused you to toss and turn sleeplessly last night. You can cancel the locksmith and no, you don’t need to quit Facebook. You are quite safe. I haven’t Googled your address and no, I won’t be stalking out the Genius bar in the hope that one day you will return to claim me. I assure you, it was just a look.

However, on the off chance that you are feeling brave next time you happen upon a woman who looks you in the eyes with the hint of a smile, I invite you to grow some balls and smile back.
Most of us aren’t crazy. I promise.

Dating over 40: The 30 second judgement

Dating over 40: The 30 second judgement

So you’re heading off for that first date with the chick you met at work/ online/ walking the dog (yeah, cos that happens) and you arrive keen to make a good impression. You went to the ATM, you took off your Tevas and you arrived early. You order a drink and your date joins you with a smile and a cheery ‘hi’. She looks at you briefly, and glances at the cocktail menu

She’s just decided whether you’re making it past the first date.  

Yep. It’s that quick.

Sure, we’re women, we might change our mind – but, no, not much changes our mind. Women, we hold the land speed record for a 5 second looks/character/personality/shoes/jeans assessment before you’ve finished your ‘hello’.

Women, we’re kind of judgy.

So you might be asking yourself how do we make such a speedy assessment in less time that it takes to say your first and last name? You might think, ‘ but she doesn’t even know me?’, ‘but she hasn’t heard how awesome I am’ or ‘people take a while to warm up to me’ .. Bullshit. Women decide immediately. The only consideration she’ll be mulling over while you sip your drink is how long she’s going to make you wait for the second date.  If you’re on her list, a) congratulations and b) don’t fuck it up.

Sorry. Its just how it is. 

So how do you impact a woman’s snap decision? Make sure it falls in your favor when that judgement happens so. damn. fast? Well chemistry and how you look to her factors into it … but there are other factors, less well known, that can flip a woman’s switch to ‘Off’ before she’s even put her purse on the bar. Let me break it down for you. 

1. Your attire. 
No, I’m going to tell guys to wear a tuxedo or a suit. This isn’t GQ. And to be honest, unless you’re in Vegas or you work in a bank, either of these on a first date is wayyyyy overkill. Unless you’re Daniel Craig. And even Daniel Craig isn’t always Daniel Craig.
However dressing appropriately on a first date is critical.  It says whether you’re a boy or a man (joke t shirts and trucker hats are the fast track to ‘no’), whether you are actually interested in her (un-ironed, wrinkled, holey or stained are all no-nos) and a little about your personality -high maintenance metro man (skinny pants, styled hair, moisturized skin, tucked in shirt) or more easy going relaxed sort (jeans, flip flops, bitten fingernails, faded tee). That first impression should reflect who you are … just not the worse version of who you are. Since we – women- don’t show up on dates in our sweat pants and sneakers with a  greying bra and hair in a scrunchie.. maybe you should give it a second thought too.

Its hard to go wrong with a button down and jeans; roll up the sleeves if its hot and if you insist on flip flops, don’t go for any color other than black or brown. Nothing says ‘questionable’ like a man in purple flip flop and a college t shirt. (FYI, if you’re still really into your college past 30, you’ve outed yourself as a Peter Pan) If its cold, wear a sweater or a jacket, but not the one your grandmother knitted back in 1985, and certainly nothing that Bill Cosby would approve of. And no, don’t ever consider wearing a hat. No, not even a fedora. You’re not Justin Timberlake, and its not 1940. Wearing a baseball cap to a first date is only appropriate if a) you’re a member of the Yankees or b) you own the Yankees. And backwards caps..? Beiber. That’s all I’m saying.

‘But my clothes don’t mean anything‘ you might be thinking. ‘I don’t want to date someone who’s so shallow’ or ‘It doesn’t say anything about who I am’

Well to you, maybe not. But to us, all of us, .. we notice. Oh boy, do we notice. What you wear says whether you care about yourself, whether you’re current in your thinking, and yes, if your relationship with your mother might be a little too close. Your attire can imply that you’re cheap, conservative, a free thinking hippy, a pretentious snob or just an average, normal, respectful jock. Its tells us that you still wish you were in college, that you aren’t as wealthy as you’d like or that you want to date 30 yr olds. Yes, we can get that from jeans and a tee.  So be who you are, but be a good clean, your Mom’s coming to dinner version of that.

Bad glasses, wife beaters, shirts from 1990, ironed jeans, man sandals with socks, frayed t shirts and anything by Ed Hardy. Sorry guys, you might as well save yourself $30 and just go home. Game over.. and you didn’t even get to open your mouth.

2. Your smell.
Step away from the Drakkar Noir, CK One and D&G. No, aftershave is not an all over body mist. And no, it doesn’t hide the fact that your clothes were pulled out of the dirty laundry basket 5 minutes ago and you didn’t have time to wash up after your work out.

Take a shower. 
With soap.

Brush your teeth
With a toothbrush.

That’s all it takes. We love a man who smells good, but all we need on a first date is for you to not smell bad. In fact, if we can’t smell you at all… perfect.
But if we can smell you before we can see you, if your breath curls our eyelashes or you see tears in our eyes as you lean in for an introduction.. you probably need to take your leave. If you’re date is leaning away from you at a 65 degree angle.. take the hint. Take a shower.

3. Your drink. 
You wouldn’t think this matters would you? I mean whats it to us what you drink?
You really want to know? We’re totally extrapolating your personality as soon as we spot that umbrella or shot glass. So sure, go ahead and order what you want.. just know that what you drink, as the ads say, says everything about you.

  • Lemonade: Unless you just got done working out, its 106 degrees or you’re under 18, Lemonade says ‘AA’ or ‘I don’t trust myself’. Either of which means you’ve probably got questionable judgement and we’re on high alert. No-one needs to drink lemonade on a date. The only exception being breakfast. When you can drink coffee like every other normal person.
  • White wine: Totally acceptable if its the height of summer, its before 5pm or you weigh less than 150lbs. White wine is the limp wrist of drinks. The only men who can drink it on a first date are those blessed in the pants department or those seeking a same sex partner. 
  • Domestic Beer: If you’re ordering a Bud, anything with the word ‘Lite’ in the title or suds the color of cat piss, you’re either 18 or clueless. Domestic beer says ‘I like to spend every Sunday in the parking lot of the football stadium’  and ‘you’re never too old to funnel’. And no, ironic hipster beers like PBR and Old Style don’t cut it either. We know you think its cool, but it says ‘trying too hard’. Plus they taste and smell like musky urine, so we’re not coming anywhere near your mouth anytime soon.
  • Microbrews: Always acceptable, even mass marketed micros are a good choice for saying ‘I’m not an idiot’ and ‘I have some taste’. Just try to avoid one which requires a piece of fruit being stuck in the bottle, in which case, you might as well go for the full monty and ask for an umbrella and a cherry.
  • Cocktail: This one is tricky. A mixed drink is always a solid choice, but anything that you need to describe to the wait staff or which involves more than 4 ingredients yells ‘pretentious douche’. If its on the drinks menu, order away, but only if it doesn’t involve drinking out of a pineapple, fruit on cocktail sticks or anything pink. She’ll be looking for moobs before you even suck the mint from your teeth.
  • Red wine: Always acceptable, red wine is the new ‘beer’ for guys. If you don’t want to drink beer, drink red wine. It doesn’t matter what type, it says ‘I’m a grown up’ unless you’re holding the glass in your fist or drinking straight from the bottle. Never, I repeat, never order a bottle of red before your date arrives. A bottle yells ‘over-confident’  and if it sucks, you’re both stuck drinking vinegar for an hour. By which time she’s hates you, even if she thought she was going to sleep with you.
  • Scotch: ‘I love scotch, scotchy scotchy scotch’ . The only men who can order scotch with panache on a first date are a) Sean Connery b) Ron Burgundy or c) an alcoholic. I love scotch, but as a first date, first drink, it implies that you’re trying just a tad too hard.  If you want to project suavity, wear good shoes and stand up to greet her. It costs less and you won’t have a horrific hangover the next day.
  • Tequila shot: You’re a devil may care wild man who may or may not have a bike parked outside. You definitely have a tattoo (or seven) and you might be carrying a strain of drug resistant gonorrhea. You certainly aim to get drunk. A woman who approaches a man doing shots on a first date is probably going to keep on walking. By 7pm, he won’t remember what he was doing at the bar in the first place.

So there you have it. take a shower, leave the stained tees at home, and order something appropriate to drink. Your first 30 seconds are a go. The rest is up to you.

Sexy Ugly

Sexy Ugly

I’ve never been a fan of pretty boys.

Give me a clean cut symmetrical face, a perfect jawline and blond hair, I give you the man who has already bored me out of bed. Every woman worth her salt knows that pretty boys suck. They don’t have to try, so they don’t.

Give me sexy ugly every time.

In fact, ugly ugly also works.. just give him confidence, (see Adam Driver, the sadistic narcissist sex bomb of Girls, Lyle Lovett and yes, even Iggy Pop).

Sexy ugly is that unique combination of certainty, confidence and something weirdly imperfect. Maybe the forehead is too large, the nose outsize, the chin in another zip code and the ears tracking jets, but add in some confidence, a motormouth and suddenly wow! Almost like a continuum that goes, ugly, uglier, ugliest, mmm ugly sexy. Delicious.

My obsession started young when I found myself inexcusably attracted to Woody Allen, Mick Jagger and, god help me, Mick Hucknall (Simply Red). None of whom would be romantic leading man material ever, but all of them made me feel a little squiffy. Why? They just seemed way more interesting.

My first boyfriend was 6 ft 6 with long hair and a nose like a pig. Ug-lee but oh so hotly unaware of it. His feet were like flippers and he had a forehead you could show a movie on, but wow, he was a charmer and thought he was awesome.. And therefore so did I.
The imprint was made. From the age of 16 it was sexy ugly, all the time.

I’ve spent most of my dating life in search of the weirdly unconventional. Skinny, awkward, big nose, huge forehead, no shoulders, but all incredibly confident and therefore total sex pots. I’ve lusted after ginger midgets, giant stick man and yes, if Jim Parson’s wasn’t gay, I’d be lusting after that too.

I know my friends have been bemused at my obsession and I can’t explain it. I’ve had lots of ‘really?’ comments about latest crushes and I can somewhat see their point. But not one ugly guy has actively chased me and man, I do love a challenge. In fact it almost seemed like the more unattractive a guy is, the harder they are to snag.  How is it that a guy who hasn’t won the hotness lottery is way more discerning?

Of course some have been awful mistakes (you have no idea how dreadful some people can look first thing in the morning), and some actually turn out just to be ugly ugly (skipping sexy and going straight to ‘yikes’). There was the guy who will forever been known as ‘Beaker’ (yes, as in ‘The Muppets’), the one who looked like Mr.Bean and one who was nicknamed after a rodent. All were sexy, but wow… terrifying when sober.

So why sexy ugly? Why not just equate it to ‘you date at your level’..?

Yes I’ve had major facial surgery and I still can’t get into a club without showing major cleavage so maybe that’s why I like unconventionally attractive people. Or maybe its just growing up in a country where bad teeth and lumpiness are handed out as gifts to our gene pool so its what I’m used to. Either way, 16 years into US residency and I still can’t get comfortable with beauty. Its just not for me.

Here’s to the ugly sexy.  Better conversations, greater sense of humor, better in bed and of course, you both look equally shit in the morning with or without your glasses on. May I count myself amongst them.

The new things which matter

I recently went round to a new friends house and realized I may have met my ideal. 
Not his personality, his looks, his astonishing nose or his predilection for slightly baggy assed Levis. Nope. I was smitten by his house. And specifically the cleanliness and order within his house.

I know. Its terrible what appeals as you get older.

As someone who grew up in a very small house populated by a father who saw every surface as a resting place for his clothes, keys, newspaper, ironing, screws, empty toilet rolls, plastic bags he was saving etc.- I loathe mess. It literally makes me itchy. The result? I grew up in love with the minimalist ideal. Give me a bare white room with minimal furniture, bare clean floors, everything tucked away out of sight and I was am practically orgasmic.
The reality of growing up – jackets hung on the back of chairs; mail unopened and unsorted; books opened flat with a cracking spine, piles of ironing on dining room chairs, CDs outside of their covers were all nails on a chalkboard to me. Add in a collection of mugs strewn around the house, 6 pairs of shoes and used tissues tucked everywhere and, well, I spent my childhood developing some serious anxiety issues. I can’t help it. I’m not OCD, I just can’t rest if there is mess. I can deal with unclean, but untidy makes me Nic Cage crazy.

And this guys house…. oh man…I think I came the moment I walked in the door.

No piles. No mess. Order reigned. Screw the personality, looks, character and sex appeal…with a house this tidy…I could get over the rest. 

It was a thing of beauty. From the living room to the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom (you know, just nosing around). Everything at the right angles, no fingerprints on the appliances, not a rice grain on the floor. Nothing askew. Cushions plumped. LPs organized. Art work level.

I could have laid down and taken a nap right there. In the appointed place of course.

Now I have friends who I know are neatfreaks. I even once knew a guy who folded his TP to a point and laid out his magazines in an arc, but he was a virgin at 34 and the whole thing smacked of too much time on his hands. I know this guy has many passions which take up his time, but his clear love of precision, order and balance in his home, his castle, were as comforting as a hug. Something tells me no plates get thrown in that house and you know for sure that nobody is picking up clothes from the floor first thing in the morning. He probably irons and folds them mid coitus.

Of course what this says about the man…who knows. He’s probably a fussy nut job who needs to shower before and after sex, wears a protective body condom and requires absolute silence in the sack.. but I say its a small price to pay for the anti mess. Ladies… I have his number.

And me? I’m sure that this points to some very strange psychosis that my therapist has yet to explore, but I just put it down to a history of living small and therefore needing to be tidy.
Or a love of discipline.
..but that’s a whole other issue.

Dating ‘normal’

Unexpectedly I found myself on a date with a non hippy, (body part, not ethos), sane, good looking dude one Friday night. I had a scotch or three to celebrate.
Interesting? check. Passionate about his job? check. Good body? big check. Eyes? two, facing forward and aligned, check. Single? check. Chemistry? ummmmmm????

Here’s the kicker. The guy had no edge. Either he was hiding it in his pants or he really was the ‘what you see… ‘ guy. Which threw me for a loop. Where was his self obsessed monologue on his activities?  His off handed criticism of former partners? Slightly sexist comment about my career? Nada.  None of it. Instead, I just had a great date. Which ended at 1am and a request for a second date that following Sunday.

Second date – snowshoeing – gave me the ideal opportunity to dig around his personality to find his edge, plus check out his ass in snow pants (hey, these things are important in Colorado). Damn. He passed that test. Clearly he’s drinking blood or sucking down HGH because this guy does not look his age in the clarity of daylight.
So we hike. And we chat. Well he chats, I’m conserving oxygen and watching him slowly wilt. And again, no edge. He’s open, apparently honest and not hiding much – but with some boundaries. All very appropriate and proper.

The problem becomes apparent- its me. I’m not used to normal people. Certainly not guys I’m on a date with. By now we’ve hit the sheets and he’s already picking out rings as I’m making for the door.  Or I’m planning our vacation and he’s out the door. Instead this guys is telling me about how he took care of his Mum when she was terminally ill with lung cancer. Seriously. He’s that nice. He’s making me laugh, calling me on being harsh and generally acting like a good friend.

The result – I’ve never felt like more of a freak as it becomes clear… this guys wants us to be friends and get to know each other before anything happens. Did this guy write a dating book? I’m floored. Stunned. What a pity that I find him so boring. See? this is what dating does to you..I can’t be attracted to normal. I don’t know what to do with nice or normal.

Now help me find a guy who’s completely career obsessed or has a burgeoning drinking problem please. That I can deal with.

After The First Date: Now What?

 Like you need me to tell you?
Well, since you’re probably sitting around just waiting, trying to not think about it with a slow gnawing in your stomach.. you probably have nothing else to do.

Typically most days after a first date I like to take a few borax showers armed with a good plug of wire wool and some hallucinogenics. But that’s just me. Lets say you had a good first date and while it all seemed to go well, you’re not quite sure what happens next. You had good chemistry, there weren’t any awkward silences and he didn’t have to be carried out of the bar. You may have even had a platonic, pursed mouth kiss or an ‘Aunt Mildred’ distance hug and waved each other goodbye. But will you hear from him again?

Well, I hate to break it to you ladies, but if there wasn’t an ‘asking’ for a second date on the first date.. you’re probably not seeing that guy again, until he reappears on or gets arrested for hiring hookers on Federal. And no ‘we should totally do this again’ as he scoots off at high speed doesn’t count. I’ve used this myself and its the guilt free kiss off. Yes we might do something again…if hell freezes over or I’m really drunk on a Friday night.

Sure, some guys still live in 1985 and wait the proverbial day or 3 to call, but this warning sign indicates one of two things a) he’s a player, and old school at that or b) he’s not really that keen, but his other dates this weekend didn’t work out any better. After the age of 40, waiting a day or 3 to contact someone after a first date is tantamount to pulling that year old pint of vanilla out of your freezer. You don’t actually want to eat it but, well, you can’t be bothered to go to the store and you’re hungry. (yes, you’re the vanilla with freezer burn). No one wants to throw away the ice cream, because, being honest, after 40, ice cream, even covered with ice crystals and tasting slightly of chicken.. well its still ice cream.

But if your optimism can’t be dampened (and you’re female), you’ve probably convinced yourself that because no-one drooled, farted, mentioned a felony and there was laughter, he’s definitely going to call and you just need to sweat it out. If you’re coming off a dry spell or you’re less than confident in your total desirability, instead of spending the next few hours or days thinking about whether he was a good fit for you, you’re spending your time hoping that he thought you were a good fit. Which I’ve found leads to me dating a lot of psychotic men with alcohol problems.

There’s a reason that girls waiting for phones to ring still features in the movies today. Because its a reality. No matter that he could text, he could poke you on Facebook or send you an email, the 40ish dater knows that he’ll call. So you busy yourself with laundry, and brunch and cocktails and even drag yourself to a cold First Friday art show, all while constantly checking your phone to see if there’s anything happening. Not that you’d pick up… c’mon, we grew up on answerphones. We’re not that stupid. When guys have called me after a first date I’ve learned that its usually the ones you don’t want to call, who will call like clockwork. And who needs to deal with dodging the awkward ‘second date request’? I am sure there are women out there who can bold faced tell a dude ‘sorry, but talking to you made me want to poke my eyeballs out with a fork’ but its not me. I try and communicate telepathically through disinterest, yawning and cocktail dates that last for 1/2 a cocktail (its worth the sacrifice).. but if they don’t get it… well I’ll deal with it via my answerphone. The one time I did confront the yawning gap in chemistry and the sense that I was dating my dad, I ended up in an email back and forth that lasted 2 months. He took my honesty as the opportunity for some free therapy and to learn ‘what exactly about me don’t you like and why?’

That happened.

So, if he didn’t ask you for another date while on the date, you’ve not heard from him and its ooo 4 days later. Now what?

Two words.

Move on.

or three words…

Start a blog.

Yep, I’m still waiting for Joe to call me back after an awesome 2 hour coffee date in Boulder and its been 5 years but I know he’s been busy. It’ll happen.

Boomerangs: Those ones who never quite go away

It seems that many of us (well… me anyway), tend to have at least one guy/girl in our life who never quite goes away. You know the one.. the one you probably been erased at least once in a fit of pique, who never quite dates you, but never quite goes away. Like a boomerang – albeit one with a very long trajectory. And despite the history of complete unreliability, we accept their ‘in then out then in’ presence in our life.

Generally.. you can configure the desirability of any guy is conversely related to how much attention he delivers. Always late, never calls, texts you only when he’s drunk or lonely, disappears for months at a time… ? Sadly, even at the age of 40ish, and with complete awareness, we fall for it again and again.  The date who calls us, texts us, arrive on time and generally behaves in a completely desirable and upstanding manner? Nah… no ‘chemistry’.

 We’re just hooked on the drama of being kept on our toes.

 ‘Maybe this time he’s changed’
 ‘I think he’s finally realized that I was one of the new women who treated him well’
 ‘My hair is longer/ I’m skinnier this time around’
 ‘.. this time I have a good feeling’
 ‘He’s in a good place’

Yep.. you’re pretty much doomed at this point. Its as though they can smellan indulgent heart and are happy to go along for the ride until you show signs of actually causing any impact on their time or other prospects. That or a new edition of Halo comes out.

I’ve kicked quite a few of these hangers-on to the curb over the years but generally it takes at least one smack to the head from my girlfriend or the complete humiliation of sitting around for a few hours in thigh highs waiting for him to show up. (I cringe, it’s true). But apart from the occasional humiliation, what’s the harm you might ask? Everyone needs a friend with benefits right?

I would totally agree… except these hangers-on aren’t really friends and the benefits are pretty unreliable. I’d be totally ok if there were some kind of unwritten rule which says ‘I’m contacting your for sex and only sex’ and then – ta-daaa – he’s on your doorstep with 2 bottle of Gatorade!! but it never quite works out like that. There are text messages, the occasional email.. and sex if it happens, its so random, its like finding out you’re part of a class action suite and getting a $5.36 check in the mail from AT&T. Great.. but unexpected. The complete lack of certainty makes it almost not worth the bother. Since the texting boomerang is typically nothing more than a booty call, I say please follow through or don’t hit send. Its only the only decent thing to do.

I’m an A type – I need reliability, rules, structures, parameters and these ones who ‘never quite go away’ are more inconsistent than AT&T in the Colorado mountains.

So here’s a message for the ones who never quite go away.

“Please fish or cut bait Mr.Boomerang. I’m deleting your number and I’m not replying to your texts. You can call me and we can schedule something (bring Gatorade), but no more hanging around on my iPhone please. Goodbye”

(…but I’m always up for a drink if your bored)

Finding a date: Fresh to Market

Despite our technologically obsessed workplaces and unceasing levels of communication, many people would think that finding a date these days is easy. After all, we’ve all see those commercials featuring Mr. Creepy Old Man talking about ‘true compatibility’ and who hasn’t got a friend who met their boyfriend/ husband/ex on  Finding someone to date is easy right?
As any person over the age of 40 can tell you, finding a non psychotic, vaguely attractive person in your age range is more challenging than anything Tom Cruise can pull off while hanging from a wire over a computer. For now I’m ignoring people who like to date waaaaay out of their age range (sorry cougars and cradle robbers), but for those who consider a 2-5 age difference their target demographic, sorry to break it to you, its tough out there.

Online dating is great for finding weirdos, freshly minted divorcees, girls with massive insecurity issues, angry people and hermits. Sure, there are the occasional sane cute ones, but they are rarer than Jewish athletes. For the rest of us, those ‘plenty of fish’ are missing a fin or two and probably have crossed eyes. Most are – like perch – immediate throw backs. If you want to get laid, great.. go right ahead. If you actually want to date, this ain’t the way to go.

So if you’ve given up in online dating (something I’ve done with more fervor and frequency than actually ‘go on dates’), the question arises 4 months into an dry spell – how do I meet someone?

Three words – Fresh to Market

Sure its not a location, because location is irrelevant. I know someone who met and married a guy she met at a drunken frat party (when she was waaaaaay out of college) and the number of people who get busy over the photocopier at work really should be included in the ‘Benefits’ package. You can meet guys everywhere (except my apartment), but when you meet them is everything.

Fresh to Market is everything at 40-ish.

One of my girlfriends met her long term ‘partner’ while rebounding from her 13 year marriage, another met her partner by playing ‘friendly shoulder’ after his divorce which turned into hooking up and eventually dating. Both chicks found a partner when they (or he) were ‘fresh on the market’. Why is ‘fresh’ on the dating market so important? Because they don’t know better. If you’re the first and you’re not an absolute ogre.. then you’re in. And nobody is more susceptible to your charm that someone who’s been through a painful time and needs to feel good about themselves. If you can deliver some warm and fuzzies (or maybe an orgasm) .. well… you’re through the front door at least. My advice? Hear about a breakup? Get on the phone, on the doorstep and into your role as lead sympathizer and cheerleader. Its how Harry got Sally after all?
NOTE: And no, you can’t cause the divorce or the breakup. No one likes a psycho as a girlfriend. A lay sure, but not a girlfriend.

‘Fresh to market’ doesn’t always mean newly dumped.  My guy friends always seem to meet women who are working in town on secondment, temporary assignment or those who have moved to town for a new job.  All of them acted as local host, did the Lannies Clock Tower/ Peaks Pike/ Ski day/ First Friday activities and all of them ended up married. I repeat – all of them ended up married to that chick. Now I’m not advising you to camp out at DIA with a sign, but if you hear someone is new to town, reconsider your level of enthusiasm about the Aquarium.

Finally, ‘fresh to market’ can be much less obvious. It seems to happen (more often than you’d think) that one day a guy wakes up and thinks ‘ huh .. being married = not that bad’ and stops thinking that every woman wants to be ordering china after the 3rd date. Suddenly his first dates are actually not about getting laid (it fact it becomes a liability), but about auditioning women for long term potential. Its not so much about short term fun but whether he can see himself dealing with the baggage your bringing once those cute crows feet look like canyons.. Sure most guys will tell you that they’re always ‘looking’ but as we know.. thats also the best way to get a chicks pants off. The guys who are looking… tend to not mention it. But as a chick with many guy friends, I can assure you that you can actually see the ‘available’ bulb go off (and I start counting down the days to ‘we’re engaged’). Early warning signs include mentions  that ‘all my friends are married’ and an daily text messages that don’t involve the words ‘ what are you wearing?’

So, how do you find one of these unicorns?

If I knew that, I’d be wearing a ring now wouldn’t I??

Ignore the warning signs at your peril

I admit it. I’m a remorselessly positive person. I expect the best, excuse the worse, and can accept even the most dubious excuses in the face of blaring fact. I can’t help it. Growing up with a relentlessly cynical mother, I over compensated with hopeless naivety.  Now I’m 41, I’m still learning by experience (the ‘getting hit by a 2 x 4’ method of acceptance), and wanted to pass along some of my wisdom.

1. If you have never seen the inside of his house/ apartment and you’re already celebrating an anniversary….its probably because he knows you’d dump him if you did. Whether its simply  disorganized chaos, piles of dirty clothing or a complete lack of furniture… he’s hiding something. On month three of one dating episode I discovered that my 40 something lover lived with little more than a futon and some bongos. And no, drum circles were not factored into my future. 

2. If he brings suitcases on a backpacking trip …its probably not due to his desire to fold things into squares and to be super organized. More likely, he’s not been backpacking and in the absence of experience, has decided to bring everything he owns. Its okay to man up to your lack of experience, but doing it before you hit the trail head for 2 weeks of hiking among the grizzly bears is probably a more appropriate time.

3. If objects have been disappearing since you met him… its probably not the ‘missing thingy’ fairy. Call it sticky fingers, mindless pocketing or just a cavernous gym bag… if things are missing, check his trunk. If you’ve managed to skip #1, check his house.

4. If you find the companionable silences are outweighing the fascinating conversations… its probably not due to harmony and comfort. He’s just got nothing to say. In British we call that ‘boring’.

5. If he’s never had a long term live in relationship and he’s older than you are, you can’t blame an epic addiction to cycling. After all Lance Armstrong managed 4 kids, a marriage, Sheryl Crowe and he won the Tour De France 7 f-ing times. Cycling does not excuse his inability to form relationships. That would be his personality.

6. If you find your future planned out according to his schedule…. its probably not because he wants to include you in his life. He wants your life to revolve around his life. Don’t be flattered. Be worried. Next up is organizing his canned goods and lining up his towels.

7. If he doesn’t like your dog…..he doesn’t like your dog. Game over.

Bizarre Breakups

As I was recounting break up scenarios with a close friend (who was planning her own) I started digging through the ‘break ups’ file. What gems I had to share. Starting with what is possibly the #1 bizarre break-up of my 20s.

I was in a relationship with – let’s call him Tom- for close to 2.5 years. Moved in together, talked about getting married, took multiple vacations, regular visits with the families. On the surface, exactly where you’d want to be at 25 (and indoctrinated by parents of the 1950s). Unfortunately Tom wasn’t exactly the golden boy. Our relationship was more ‘Sleeping with the Enemy’ than ‘Father of the Bride’. In-between lining up the cans and losing every excess pound to please him with miles and miles of running, hiding bruises and sleeping with one eye open, I finally got wise and decided to move out and move on.

How to tell him? How would he take it? Would he freak out? Would I freak out? The decision around when, where and how was harder than the decision to leave and I finally settled on that most traditional theater for English life – the pub. Plenty of people, liquor for drowning of sorrows, and limited ability for him to start throwing things at me (most English pubs specifically nail stuff down to prevent such occurrences). Plus I still had 20lbs on him, so I figured I could just sit on him if it came down to that (firearms not being part of an English upbringing). I’d even arranged a trip overseas so I’d be able to disappear shortly afterwards.

During the break up decision, I had been applying for a visa to come to the US, and coincidentally, had spent the afternoon at the embassy getting everything finalized for my extended business trip. High on my impending trip, I positively bounced into the pub to see him sitting there, glowering at me. The break up went, as they all do, painfully and yet with some relief (for me). I even filled him in on my planned 3 month trip to the US – to help ease our transition. His reaction seemed calm, considered and he seemed eerily pleased. As I headed off to the restrooms, I smugly considered how adult we both were. How rational. Apparently this is how adults end relationships. I was proud of myself, and heck, even Tom. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought him to be.

I returned from the restroom to find an empty table. Completely empty. Of Tom, my purse and any sign of us having even sat there. I turned around – maybe I’d looked at the wrong table? – then caught the eye of the bar tender. He shrugged him shoulders, “Your boyfriend took off with your purse”.

Fuuuuuuuuck. What was this? “Take the Money and Run”? Literally?

My purse – my car keys, my new minted passport and visa, my cell-phone, the keys to my sisters flat, my wallet, heck even the Valium I so desperately needed right that second. All in my purse. All disappearing up the street with my now dumped boyfriend.
Luckily all that running he’d been forcing on me finally paid off and I took off down the high street, heading towards our formerly shared ‘home’. Nutter. Total nutter. What man steals his girlfriends purse? And for gods sake, why?

I arrived at the house to a locked door and silence. I tried the key but no dice – apparently he’d double locked the door. I started banging on the door, shouting and generally making a very un-English fuss. Neighbors started poking their heads out of their doors and tutting. I decided to call the police to assist the matter – either that or I’d have to wait until Home Depot opened in the morning and pull a ‘Here’s Jonny’ scene. And frankly, spending the evening on the floor outside my former home wasn’t the best scenario.

After begging entry to a neighbors house, and an embarrassed ‘awful weather we’ve been having’ conversation with neighbor Joe, the police arrived.
From the bizarre conversation between 2 policemen and a door that followed, I learned that Tom’s intent was to steal me back my stealing my purse. So I guess that’s actually how adults break up. Illogically, emotionally, bizarrely.

I recommended some ideas to my friend for her breakup. And told her to wear sneakers.