Archive for July, 2010

Desert Island Tour

     At the end of one of the latest chapters, Dr. D had given me the task of creating a list of five people, living or dead, that I would choose to be stranded with.  I had to decide on reasons for why I would take them, taking into consideration the fact I’d need them to survive.  And some how, this was supposed to tell me something about my ideal mate.  Here’s my list:

1) Matt Bomer (A.K.A. Neal Caffrey on White Collar) for the most important reason of all – Eye Candy.

2) Suzy Q or Mama J, whoever is available, because you need good banter and good friends.

3) Julia Child – Hey, girl’s gotta eat.

4) Ben Franklin – That crafty bugger could help get us out of most jams.

5) Billy Crystal – I have a hard time imagining why anyone would not choose him.  I mean, come on, he sings, he dances, he’s a one man show.  Everyone needs a little Billy in their life.

     After taking all this into consideration, here’s what I’ve learned about my ideal match…

He’s a crafty concoction that not only tastes but looks good too.

No, that can’t be right.

He keeps me well fed while dancing and inventing new —

Hmm…that may not be it either.  Maybe this is what Dr. D means…

He can carry on a good conversation, makes me laugh, can handle a piece of meat and can literally create sparks in the bedroom.

Yeah, that must be it.

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Match Me

     I have gone from dating three to zilch.  Had a date on Sunday, but he’s not making it to a second, night out with my wingwoman was too hot to focus, and my online “reserves tank” is empty and not much new is coming in.  Dr. D says to put the word out to friends and family so that they can help introduce you to new guys.  Since most of my friends and all of my family live in different time zones, that would be one costly and time-consuming meet’n’greet.  As a result, I’ve had to do some thinking outside the box.

     Last week, when I was shopping around on Craigslist for jobs, I stumbled upon an ad.  Figured it was a long-shot but threw caution to the wind and submitted myself.  To my surprise, I got an email back within a few hours asking for some addition information.   One afternoon I filled out the four page attachment they gave me and sent everything back that they asked for.  That same evening I got an email telling me “congratulations” and that my next step was to stop by the office so they could verify my pictures.  Yup, verify that I look like my pictures.  Come on, this is LA; you can’t get a janitorial position without a headshot.  In their defense, the spot I was shooting for. . . well, it made sense to have pictures.

     On Saturday I swung by the office and figured I’d see a long line or waiting room full of other women doing the same.  And I expected these women to be of supermodel stature who, would in turn, look at me as if I was lost.  I checked my lip gloss, tossed my hair, and made my way down the long eerily silent hallway.  I turned the corner into the office and – nothing.  No one was there but the man behind the desk.  He asked my name, looked me up and down, and said I was good; my pictures looked like me.  He then asked me to sit and he ran down the basics that I needed to know.

     As I walked back to my car, I was still puzzled by the lack of other women that were there.  I mean, how many did they turn away to pick me of all people?  I feel more plain Jane than Barbie, so I just figured I would get looked over.  But I didn’t.  I have succeeded in getting more people to join Team Zia and assist me in finding a date for New Year’s Eve.

     Gone too far?  You tell me.  I am now the newest addition to the Millionaire Matchmaker’s data base.  You know, on the show after they have a casting call and no “good” ladies show up and Patti Stanger says, “let me pull some girls from my data base?”  Well, I’m in that data base.

Get Your Flirt On (Part 2)

     My previous post left off with me sending smoke signals via flirt moves to a guy in a bar I was hoping would rescue me from Drunkass’ slobber.  Here’s how the night turned out:

     During one of my look up, look away moves, I turn to Shortstack to say something and then suddenly the lone trio member is standing in front of our booth.  Victory!  He’s standing there with a smile and making eye contact.  (Ooh, I’m on the receiving end of Move #1.)  He introduces himself and then all of the sudden, like vultures, the entire trio is at our table and Drunkass is out numbered.

     There is some awkward shouting from across the booth conversation because I still have Drunkass sitting to my right.  Nothing a quick trip to the bathroom can’t fix.  I tap Drunkass’s shoulder (Damn it! – Move #5) and excuse myself.  When I return to the booth there had been some seat shuffling and Drunkass was gone…for now.

     I plop myself down and next thing I know I am sitting between my Rescue Ranger and his buddy, Mr, High-5.  (The dude was all about some high-5 action.)  Not a bad turn of events.  And since the flirt machine was already turned on, what makes you think it would suddenly turn off?  Flirtalicious was still on the loose and seemed to be contagious.  My girls and the trio were all over open-ended questions (Move #13), laughing at jokes (Move #10), and lots of smiling, eye contact, looking away and then back again (Move #1 and #3.)  Really, this just sounds like people with drinks in them having a good time.  But hey, who am I to second guess the Doc?  Drink on Flirt on my friends, flirt on.

     At one point I heard my last name being said across the booth.  Since Half-pint and I have the same first name, she was distinguishing us by our last names to Dimples (the third member of the trio.)  Rescue Ranger overheard my last name and this led to our big moment…

Rescue Ranger:  Italian?

Zia:  Yes.

He puts his fingers on my wrist (received Move #5) and then slides my hoodie up my arm a bit.

Rescue Ranger:  But you’re not hairy.

(Eeerr…received Move #11 – Compliment?)

Zia:  No.  No, I’m not.

     With moves like that, I am sure this guy gets his pick of the litter when he heads out.

     The night rolls on.  Drunkass makes a return and falls asleep in the booth.  Rescue Ranger hits the pool table, Mr. High-5 chats up a storm, and Dimples maybe said seven sentences all night.  But who really cares?  He had dimples.  Duh.

     Closing time and my clan and I start heading out.  We say our good-byes and this is where reading these sixteen moves would have been beneficial.

“Move #16 – When leaving, say you’d like to see him again.”

     I have to walk by the pool table, where Rescue Ranger is, to exit.  He interrupts his game for a minute and stops me to give me a hug good-bye.  We make some comments about the game and then I walk off.  Huh?  Oh yeah, I – walk – off.  “Hey, let’s hang out again sometime” never made it into my brain.

     We get outside and Shortstack gets into Miss Fererra’s car and they drive off.  I hop into Half-pint’s, we sit there for a sec, and then she says how she had such a great time and wishes we could do it again. 

Okay, let’s recap:  Three of them, four of us, and no one thought of doing a number exchange!? – Idiots, the lot of us. 

     Did we screw up?  Well, that can easily be answered.  As Half-pint backed out and started pulling away, I spotted Mr. High-5 rushing out the door.  But it was too late, we were on the road.  I made brief eye contact with him but all he got out was one final wave.  Flirtalicious, sure.  Smooth Operator, hell no.

     Let’s hope, armed with these rules, things go a little better as I hit the town with my wingwoman, Miss Independent, tonight.

Get Your Flirt On (Part 1)

     As some of my fellow dating bloggers have mentioned before, they are not exactly flirting wizards.  I never considered myself much of one either.  I felt the flirt component was missing from my DNA make-up.  When I got to the section in Love in 90 Days that talks about flirting, I was flabbergasted to find out that I did half of the sixteen moves Dr. D put on her list!  Without even knowing it, I’m a flirting machine.  That’s right people, just call me Flirtalicious.

     This probably explains why after so many of my dates I keep getting texts from guys I don’t want to see again.  I thought smiling and making eye contact was just good manners (Move #1).  I wasn’t trying to let off “hump me” vibes.

     Had a girls night out on Saturday.  Let’s take a look at how I unconsciously implemented these flirty moves…

     Entered dive bar in a little black summer dress, silver flip-flops, and a purple hoodie.  Make-up done, mangoes contained but on parade, and hair. . . well, on my head.  Place was pretty empty, older crowd.  We grab drinks and a booth.  There are four of us wrapped around the curved booth; Miss Ferrera (she’s an America Ferrera look-a-like), Shortstack, myself, and Half-pint.  (My friends are adorable but all a bit on the short side.)  We pass the time chatting when the younger crowd slowly trickles in.

     The first trickler is a short curly-haired dude already three sheets to the wind, hereby known as Drunkass.  Drunkass sits alone in the booth next to us.  Bar keep informs us that he has been trying to talk to us.  Miss Hospitable that I am, I lean over make eye contact, smile, and say hi.  (Move #1)  After he gets the other “hi’s” from the table, he then feels the need, and that it’s okay, to touch Miss Ferrera’s hair.  My eyes pop out of my head and Half-pint’s beer makes it out her nose.  She makes a mad dash to the bathroom as I try to contain my laughter.

     Upon Half-pint’s return, and not getting much response from the first hair petting, he moves on to Half-pint’s hair.  (Insert more eye-popping here – from all.)

     When Miss Ferrera and Half-pint duck out for a smoke, Drunkass joins them, giving Shortstack and I a chance to scope out the new tricklers.  We spot a trio of guys come in and, not wanting to be obvious, I look up, look away, then sneak another peek.  (Yeah, apparently that’s Move #3.)  The trio did not slip past Half-pint’s attention either.  She has a bit of a butt fetish and followed the ass parade back in the door.  She followed that up with a good bit of butt-gawking when she conveniently was at the bar ordering a drink when they were.  Half-pint Subtlety, her name is not.

     Drunkass makes notice of this and is not about to share our attention.  Next thing I know, Half-pint is bringing a round of drinks back to the table on Drunkass’ dime.  While she’s carting drinks over, he takes this opportunity to steal a seat next to yours truly.  Knowing it’s only a matter of minutes before my hair gets a petting, I went into what I thought was “deflect-mode.”  Turns out, I turned on the flirt machine.  It seems that I put it into overdrive and was dropping flirt-bombs everywhere.

Trying to keep his arms away from petting reach.  Quick distract him.  Ah, tattoos on his arm ask about those.  (Double whammy.  Move #5 – touch his arm, shoulder, or neck.  Move #13 – ask open-ended questions.)

He reaches to adjust his sleeve to show more of the tattoo.  Beer sweat flung from his fingers and…*WINK*…(Damn it.  Move #2 – wink.)

His conversation skills are lost in slur.  Bored out of my mind.  Hmm…I’ll just fiddle with the straw in my drink.  He’s still boring.  I need to drink more.  I’ll put the straw to my lips and take a sip.  (Mistake.  Move #7 – play with your hair, clothing, or object.  Move #6 – touch your lips, neck, or chest.)

So wasted now he loses balance from a sitting position and flops on me.  I push him back up to a seated position.  (Someone stop me!  Move #5 – touch his arm, shoulder, or neck.)

     Miss Ferrera and Half-pint stepped out for another smoke and I tried to encourage him to go.  He wasn’t having any part of that this time.  He leaned over whispered, “You’re a 10,” in my ear and went in for the hair swipe.  Cringe.

     I look up and spot a lone member of the trio and start sending “help me” eyes over to him.  I briefly made eye contact, he looked away, then looked up.  Then I looked away and then looked up.  (Move #3, Move #3, Move #3.)

. . .Did it work?  Can he read my smoke signals?  Is he coming to my rescue. . .  

What a Dish

     One of the tricks of the trade Dr. D shares is to keep changing bits and pieces of your online dating profile to keep it fresh and on the “new” list.  One of her suggestions is to have two of your best friends write up one paragraph describing you.  Then you use it to help you write your profile.  I asked my two besties and this is what I got:

Words from the lovely Mama J:

My best friend is witty, trustworthy and confident.  She provides a fresh, unique perspective on the everyday things.  I find her honest, energetic and full of random, but substantial ideas.  I know I can rely on her for anything, no matter whether it’s to talk about my day, a dream I want to share or needing help with a project.  If I find myself sad or depressed, I can always count on her to cheer me up with her amusing slice of life.  She can be a tomboy, but willing to dress up for the right occasion.  Location is no obstacle for our friendship because we always pick up right where we left off.  I know that she is only a phone call or text message away.  I love her like a sister!

Words from the dazzling Suzy Q:

There are words to describe some people and for others, there are not enough wonderful words and one must just experience being in their presence.  My friend, Zia Zitella, is one of those people. I could tell you that she is an amazing cook (and she is!), but really, what does that say about her?  She is a whiz in the kitchen, but that doesn’t describe how the taste of the food is enhanced by the great conversation and laughter that accompanies the delectable dish she has created (and trust me, I’ve never had anything that she’s made that I haven’t LOVED).  To tell you that she is a wonderful cook is just the tip of the iceberg.  She is youthful in her looks and spirit, and yet beyond her years in wisdom.  She is fun and always up for an adventure.  Want a traveling buddy?  She’s the one you call!  While there for the fun times, she is also there when advice is needed or an ear is needed for listening.  She is an every woman – comfortable in tennis shoes or heels, on a hike,  at a theater production, or watching the game – she’s living life to the fullest and anyone who gets to share anytime with her is a lucky one indeed.

     I don’t know.  What do your friends say about you?  After reading this, I’d do me.

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