Archive for December, 2010

Pity Party

     The year has finally come to a close.  I took a little time to think back as to how my dating ventures went this past year and, well, let’s just say, I deserved the few days of bonbon-eating in my sweatpants with no make-up on that I indulged in this week.  Why, you ask?  Well, if you’ve been following my blog, then you probably have lost track, as I did, of how many different men I have physically and online dated.  My rough estimate is somewhere around fifty different men.

     While I was in the midst of my Love in 90 Days project, I read through a section of the book that talked about the ending of relationships, including those that we engage in online.  Those are like mini-relationships.  But even mini-relationships need some grieving when they come to an end, Dr. D pointed out.  I did not do this, however.  I just hopped from one to the other.  Occasionally I had a drought but was always preoccupied with other things.  I noticed that for the past couple of weeks that I have been completely drained.  To add icing on the cake, both sisters got engaged the week of Christmas.  Yes, that’s right, BOTH.  Talk about a sucker punch to the gut.  This isn’t their first engagements either.  With no engagements under my belt, I really stick out like a soar thumb.  My greatest horror is attending these weddings where I am bound to get the questions all singles love to get, like, “Why aren’t you married yet?”  “When are you going to settle down?”  “Haven’t you found someone yet?” or my personal favorite, “What’s wrong with you?”  Cause, yeah, I’m broken.  To remedy that, I’ve already decided to answer all of their questions with questions.  So when someone has the gall to ask, “When are you going to take the plunge?”  I’ll respond with: “When are you going to lose that weight the doctor recommended?”  “What day are those AA meetings held?  You should check them out.”  “Have planned your funeral yet?  I need to ask off for work.  I would want to miss that.”  But I digress…

Back to my mini-break-ups.  Let’s do the math:

If you begin talking to someone online, you email a few times, and depending on how often either of you check your email, that may come out to about a week or two of getting to know each other. 

Then you may talk on the phone once or twice and set up and go on a first meet.  That’s roughly a week.

If all goes well, you schedule another date.  And with work and scheduling that date usually happens the following week.

Second, third dates, and so on, add on additional weeks.

Okay, so on average most guys made it three weeks, some four, and about two this year made it to six weeks.  Mind you, many of these guys were overlapping in time frame.

So that’s 2 x 6 weeks + about 10 x 4 weeks + about 35 x 3 weeks = around 157 weeks.  That’s like ending a three-year relationship!  Holy crap, no wonder I feel like something my cat puked up.  

     I reserve the right to continue with my pity party for the remainder of the day.  I have decided I will no longer be glum starting around…ah…let’s say dinner time.  I am going to ring in the New Year with a clean slate and with the one relationship that did work out this year…

     Happy New Year and see you all in 2011.

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Gearing Up for the Checklist

          At the beginning of the year I wrote a post that ran down the checklist of what most single people go through on New Year’s Eve.  Since the day is quickly approaching, I just thought I’d refresh you on how last New Year’s Eve went.  

          Did you ever notice how there’s a bit of a New Year’s Eve event checklist?  There is usually the same list of things that happen every year.  However, they don’t always happen the way you plan or expect.

How my day went:

After I returned home from my last-minute errands, I stopped by to check the mail.  In the pool area, there was a 4-year-old boy in some tighty-whities soaking wet looking out at me.  When I got out of my car he was holding on to the bars of the fence, bouncing, smiling and excitedly asked, “Are ya comin’ in?  Are ya comin’ in?”

Advances made towards me: Check.

As I got ready for my night out, I heard my landlady’s young grandchildren running and playing together.  She took on babysitting duty for the evening.  When it was time for me to head out I said good-bye to all and was inadvertently felt up by a 5-year-old.

Inappropriate fondling: Check.

Waiting for my ride to arrive, there were a lot of phone calls back and forth as to how to find me.  Having trouble with road blocks and me not knowing all of the side street names, there was a lot of, “where are you now?”

Lose people: Check.

When we arrived at the party, the hostess was having a little trouble with the chocolate fondue.  The few of us who had already arrived, pitched in and did some stirring, reheating, some tasting, etc.  Still a little lumpy and not cooking properly, she mentioned having a little Kaluha left over.  “Pour it in,” I said.

Use alcohol to make things better: Check.

 As the night progressed, I found myself sitting in a room full of scientists and their spouses.  Having to carry on conversations with people who have far higher IQs than mine, I feel I held my own.  And if I wasn’t able to, I would casually shove more food in my mouth to avoid over-my-head conversation.

Blend in: Check.

Since the hostess and I were the only two single people there, she informed me how she knows a woman who knows lots of single science guys.  Single + science…shocking.  Anyway,  this woman is a scientist herself and would apparently enjoy scientifically matching me to one of the young gents, depending on how “science-y” I would go.

Semi-humiliating moment: Check.

My subtle friend that brought me along to the party loudly announced my blogging adventure to the room.  Informing everyone that Mr. Fig Newton was her favorite post.  This led to many questions, laughter, and a reading request.  I gave a reading and openly answered questions about my bizarre dating life.

Reveal personal information to total strangers: Check.

         I am expecting different results this year.  Hopefully advances and fondling from more age-appropriate suitors.   But can rely on the checklist being the same, of course.

Santa Baby

Dear Santa,

I have been a very good girl this year.  Unfortunately.  And it has not gotten me anywhere.  My search for Mr. Pizzazz has been long and tiring, as I’m sure the elves have updated you.  Last Sunday I had dates with two different men.  And as my esthetician predicted, I preferred Date #1 and Date #2 preferred me.  I have not heard from Date #1 since my afternoon of bum-gazing.  Date #2 and I have spoken again, only once, and briefly.  He has potential for next week, but he too may flake-out.  Ho…ho…hum…

I know you are very busy this time of year, so to give the elves the task of creating Mr. Pizzazz in time for Christmas would be a very tall order.  I know I must continue looking on my own.  Mr. Perfect-for-Me is out there somewhere.  Maybe he’s just lost in a blizzard.  Could you possibly give him directions for Christmas?  I’m sure he’s been a good boy too and probably deserves them.

Since bringing Mr. Pizzazz to me might take some time, I’d be happy with a few of these other gifts this Christmas.

  

 

And to make sure I can continue to rock this get-up, I may be in need of a gym membership.

Santa, if you are having trouble deciding which of these I should get as my “good girl” reward this year; then surprise me with a donation instead. 

Please make some donations

That way, in case I eat too many holiday cookies, I can order the next size up on the newest addition to my wardrobe.  (You know how that goes, right?)

Well, Santa, I won’t take up anymore of your time.  Have yourself a merry little Christmas and I’ll try to do the same.

All the best,

Zia

Double Duty

Two guys, two dates, one day.  Here’s how it went:

Date #1:  He was not much of an emailer. We exchanged a few but I really got to know him during our phone call.  Found out we had tons in common but enough different to keep things interesting.  Since we talked about my taking golf lessons, he suggested we go to a driving range for our first date.  (Yah! No proverbial meet for coffee!)  I took him up on it. Unfortunately, the only free time I had was Sunday afternoon before a previously scheduled date with another guy.
We met at the driving range he picked.  After my GPS steered me in the wrong direction, I showed up a fashionable ten minutes late.  Big place, had to call him to find him.  He may have been the only tall black guy there but it was a good thing I called because he didn’t look too much like his pictures.  Still looked good though…really good.
Picked our places at the range and began swinging away.  He was in the stall in front of me so I had optimal butt-viewing.  I’m not much of a derriere fanatic but he, in general, was very pretty.  He used to be a decathlete and is still very well-defined.  I kept wanting to reach out and touch him, but I thought heavy petting and tracing my finger along the muscles of his chiseled back was a bit much for a first date, and a public place for that matter.  I kept my composure.
We finished the bucket of balls and he said he had another coin to get another bucket if I wanted to hit more.  The blister on my hand made the decision for me.  He then asked me to lunch.  Took that as a good sign, we could have just gone our separate ways after the driving range.
We drove to a diner, and even though it was lunchtime, we both ordered from the breakfast menu.  After our food arrived and I took my first bite my head started racing – What were you thinking ordering a SPINACH omelet!?  Bound to get stuck in your teeth. I then became very self-conscious about where in my mouth I chewed my food.  And I am sure I made odd faces attempting to check my teeth.

We continued talking but I could see he had lost some energy and then I noticed he had  5-year-old-time-for-a-nap sleepy eyes.  We finished eating and left the restaurant.  I realized in the parking lot that I stood between him and the path to his car.  If my unintentional plan worked, I would get a hug good-bye and would be allowed short access to feel up that muscular back I had been eyeing earlier.  Ah…permission granted.  Told him I’d like to see him again and he said we’d talk soon.

With his sleepiness, I’m not sure how sincere that “talk soon” was.  This is LA and people flake out a lot.  Like waiting after an audition to see if you’ve got the part.

Intermission: Arrived home.  Realized my bagpipe induced headache from my bartending event the night before was beginning to get the best of me.  Took an hour nap.  Woke up mildly refreshed and got ready.Date #2:  Met at a wine bar.  Not as physically jaw dropping as Date #1, but cute enough.  Said he had a headache and wasn’t going to have a drink but encouraged me to get one.  Free wine, no need to ask twice.
The man was full of questions. He began to ask about guys on Match.com. (Yeah Dude, way to kill a conversation.)  I gave a 3-word answer and quickly asked him something else.  He jokingly said, “I’m not finished yet.”  
I said, “I know. I’m changing the subject.”  (He obviously hasn’t read up on my rules.) 

Aside from that, conversation was easy with him.  In fact, he was quite a chatterbox.  At one point, he said, “I’m talking too much.  I’m going to stop interviewing you now.”  (Little did he know, this was a welcomed change.)  He did say he felt it was the man’s job to carry the conversation.  (Again, welcomed change.)
I started asking him questions.  He’s an engineer turned fashion designer.  It was a little unnerving to sit across from a guy who pegged my clothing size spot on.  Believe me, I didn’t challenge him to guess, he just willingly gave me this info.  Guess if I ever gain a pound – he’d notice.  His dream is to design ladies swimwear and intimates.  (Hmm…little pervy, but okay.)
Overall wasn’t bad.  Not exactly butterflies, but I’m not gagging either.
In conclusion:  Sadly, my magical powers are lacking.  Therefore, I can’t mix Date #1’s looks with Date #2’s personality.  Both received follow-up “thank you” emails.  We’ll just have to sit back, wait, and see.

Taking the Signs

Sometimes it’s just not even up to us.  Sometimes the world has a say.

            The night before my date my landlady decided to cook a turkey…at ten o’clock at night!  At about three o’clock in the morning I was awoken to clanging in the kitchen and the smells of Thanksgiving dinner.  Once I realized that I hadn’t slept a full year to next year’s Thanksgiving, I got up padded to the bathroom and tried to go back to sleep.

            I woke up just before seven am and blurted out an “Oh sh*t!”  My landlady had blown a fuse and her son had been by the night before to fix it, giving her access to her oven again, hence the midnight turkey roast.  Doing such, he turned off power and I had to reset my clock.  I set my alarm for five in the morning.  “But Zia, you woke up at seven.”  Yes, yes I did.  You see it helps if you set the clock to “PM” when it’s actually “PM” and not “AM.”  Lesson learned.

            Running late, I shellacked on make-up, got dressed for the day and date, I wasn’t going to have time to come home between the two, and ran out the door.  I felt like I might look like a clown with my make-up job, so I spent most of my car ride smudging and wiping off make-up.

            Work was work.

            Start heading home, hit mild traffic.

            Now, my whole master plan was to arrive at the date before he did since I had no clue what he looked like and I didn’t want to walk in and stick my neck out like a giraffe and stare people down.  I managed to arrive at the lounge fifteen minutes before the date.  Got in, noticed the female servers were a couple of hotties and I was not in their league to complete.  Ran to the bathroom to give myself one more clown-check, had to do what I could to compete with the wait staff.  Found a seat by the door, back to the wall and scoped out what was there.  Couple of ladies to my right, a smug couple to the left, an older guy sitting alone at a table, and a single guy at the bar.  I had no fear of him being the older guy; he had a definite, “I’m not waiting on a woman,” look to him.  Was a little concerned about the guy at the bar; passed him on my way back from the restroom and his tone of voice and demeanor came off as arrogant.  Prayed it wasn’t him when I sent my “arrival” text.  Decided to be very clear in text so I wouldn’t have to look around for him – “I’m here.  Sitting by door. Red scarf.”

            Worked like a charm.  He walked in and out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn his head and say, “Zia.”  Whew!  Dodged that bullet.

            He approached the table as I put my phone on silent and before his butt even hit the seat a voice in my head screamed, “No!”  I have never, never, made an instantaneous decision like that before.  There was nothing wrong with him, tall, dark, probably handsome to someone, but there was just some vibe and I just knew.  I prayed the look didn’t come across my face.  I like to hear people out and get a sense about them before dropping the gavel.  In my distraction I put my cell phone on the table next to me.  I always put my phone in my purse for a date.  I never plan get-out-of-date calls.  I’m a trooper, I stick them all out.  But in this situation, I felt it was fine because I didn’t want to stay too long.

We chatted.  Not much to chat about though because he wasn’t much of an emailer, so I didn’t know much about him leaving me with no pizzazzy conversation starters.  He stuck to the boring generic, “what do you do?” “Where are you from?” questions.  Had I not been running late I could have printed off my Pizzazz Questionnaire.

The night was dull, lots of awkward silences as we worked our way through a pot of freakin’ awesome tea.  (I know how to find the good in a date even if the company is bad.)  After the tea was finished, I planned a trip to the restroom and noticeably put my phone in my jacket pocket. Left my jacket at the table but cued that I was ready to leave.  When I returned, we chatted for a few seconds and then I said I had to get going.  He didn’t seem surprised and looked like he was ready to go too.

The kudos I have for the two of us was when we walked out and left.  There were no false hope comments of, “Hey, I’ll call you later,” or “Let’s do that again sometime.”  We just said nice to meet for and good night.  We both knew it was not a match and went our separate ways.