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Leaving it to Fate

     I celebrated the New Year with good friends at a small family owned bar.  They treated patrons to a champagne toast every hour until our time zone reached midnight.  My wingwoman, Half-pint, was picked up by a twenty-year-old kid, and I was followed around by his older cousin, Puppy-Dog, for a majority of the night.  At the end of the night, when my friends and I decided to leave, Puppy-Dog had the gall to grab his coat and exit with us.  Hey Buddy, following me around all night like a puppy-dog and not once even attempting to buy me a drink, isn’t exactly paving the way for a New Year’s shag.  Just sayin’.  Needless to say there was no shag-time, and even though he asked for my number, the comment of, “If nothing ever happens, I just want you to know I had a good time tonight,” clearly pointed out that he was never going to use my number.  I was spot on with that call and haven’t heard from him…and I’m not losing sleep over it either.

     The first week of the New Year down, and the dating “project” for this year decided, it is time to share.  Now, this decision may bring tears to some of your eyes, as it did with Buddha Babe, but it must be done.  In my years of date-blogging, I have tackled online dating, a self-help book, speed dating, set-ups, etc.  It is time to try the only thing I haven’t tried…FATE.  This year I’m leaving the luck of my love life to Fate.  That being said, my date count will drop drastically not leaving me much to blog about.  So, unless Fate sets in motion something earth-shattering, this may most likely be my only post this year.  Don’t fret too much, I’ll still be tweeting it up from time to time.

     I thought giving myself and blog a proper send-off was in order, so I compiled a “The Best of Zia” list to keep you entertained in my dating absence.  

Post that was  numerously retweeted, reposted by other bloggers, and stirred up a hefty comment discussion: Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

A Sample of the Prince Charmings that I’ve come across: Careful What You Wish For 

Even in my non-dating life I find rare jewles…and, well, maybe posting on Craigslist had something to do with it too: Oh, Sammy Boy

Zia in a guest appearance: Treasure Down Under 

Example of how I’m a class-act on a date: More Bug Wine, Please

     Thanks for reading, and best of luck to all of you in 2012.  Go out there and get your flirt on!

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Top 5 Lines of 2011

     As the year is coming to a close, I took a few moments to relive some of the best lines I’ve heard this year.  I’m sure everyone has their favorites, but these are what did it for me.

     Coming it at #5 is from everyone’s favorite spider-fearing dater, Mr. Fig Newton.  He found me again on match.com after two years and tried to rekindle what was never there.  I politely turned him down and he responded with:

“Just because you pass, doesn’t mean I have to.”

     Confidence is very important when it comes to dating.  So that is why in the #4 spot we have a guy full of it.  Sadly, he didn’t have the maturity or personality to follow it up.  But he does know how to get your attention when he spouts out:

“It’s okay, I only need three minutes to impress you.”

     Line #3 is not from one of my gentlemen callers, but rather the fabulous Lulu, who likes to meddle in my social life.  She has personally taken it upon herself to try to find me a husband this year.  Every male client she has learns my name.  And every female client is grilled to see if they have a single brother, neighbor, gardener, proctologist, etc.  On a recent visit she told me that she passed along my number to a client because she has a lot of male coworkers and they needed more women at the Christmas party.  Then another client had come in, who has a single male client, who happens to be a lawyer, so of course Lulu’s mind starts spinning out of control.  She continued with a few more of those situations, paused in her work, put her hand on my shoulder, and then said to me:

“I’m sorry.  I always try to sell you.  You’re the only one I know like you, so I sell you.”

     The #2 line of the year was not shared via blog, but it hails from Mr. Organic.  During our texting stage, he was informing me that he can cook.  He said he was good for three dates.  I found out the list, two of which were pasta, so I joked with him about trying to battle spaghetti with an Italian.  His response:

“The goal is to seduce you with my charm, intellect, and boyish good looks.  The dinner is just so you won’t be hungry while those things are happening.”

     And coming in at #1…during my first Speed Dating adventure…how could I, or anyone I’ve told, forget?  How do you to stay memorable during those five short minutes of instantly meeting someone when they are in a sea of other possibilities?  Simple, just tell her:

“I was born vaginally.”

     And there we have it.  The 2011 list of top lines I have heard this year while I was traveling through singledom.  Any classics of your own that you’d like to share?

Back on Track

     I had previously mentioned how I was going through a drought, and then last week had two dates and then another last night.

     The date from last Friday was a result from my latest Speed Dating adventure.  Nothing really to report.  There was nothing bad about the date, nothing wrong with the guy, it just…wasn’t there.  No spark, no pizzazz, it just fell short.  I know a date is going down hill if as he’s talking I start envisioning who of my friends I’d like to set him up with.  Meaning, I like the guy, just not for me.

     Speaking of setting up, that takes me to last Thursday’s date.  As some of you are aware, my esthetician, Lulu, and I have a bond, could be partly because she has been all up in my lady business for years.  She has recently decided and taken it upon herself to try to set me up.  I’ll need to back up a little for this one.

     Several months ago, while laying on her table, she began yakking away about my singleness, dating, yada yada.  She began telling a story about setting someone up with someone’s brother and having the phone number.  She then picked up a tissue box and showed me a woman’s phone number written on the bottom.  I gathered she was setting this woman up.  As the story went on, in all her immigrant Vietnamese-ness, I realized, “Oh, she wants to set me up with that woman’s brother.”  The fact that he lives in San Fran and I’m in LA, didn’t seem to faze her.  When I left, Subtle-T was there for her appointment, and I asked her to find out if what I was listening to was correct.  Here’s the thing, Subtle-T is married, and therefore, does not receive these lectures.  They talk about food, and, as I later found out, me.

     Fast forward a bit and Subtle-T receives a phone call from Lulu with a phone number of a different guy.  Lulu had decided that it was up to Subtle-T to call, not me.  A few days later, Subtle-T received a voicemail from Lulu, and rather than call me, she called Suzie Q and told her about the message.  “I have another number.”  The two of them were finding this very amusing.

     I talked to one guy, kind of boring, didn’t really like him, and Lulu was crushed by this.  I found out later that he had just started talking to his ex-girlfriend again and took my call out of obligation.  Fine with me, I was doing the same thing.  I have been informed by Lulu that the man in San Fran has been contacted now.  I don’t know by whom, but I’m sure I’ll get an update on my next appointment.  During my last appointment, she decided to cut out the middle man and gave me the third guy’s phone number.  She insisted I text him, not call, because when you call and don’t know him, you have nothing to say.  The only things I knew about him is that he is Italian and goes there to get his back waxed.  Hey, the way I see it, he knows the problem and he’s taking care of it.  Lulu tends to go on about Italians being hairy and I was doubting she was painting a pretty picture of me, since she had told him I was Italian.  It was during one of those rants that I was about to chime in and she stopped me before I finished and said, “Oh, I tol’ him.  For an Italian, you not so hairy.”  Great.  So, I went home and texted him.  He replied back.

Client #3:  Hi Zia, yeah Lulu did mention your name.  I’m kind of embarrassed to admit I know Lulu, but that’s a different story.

Zia’s Thoughts:  Buddy, you’d be more embarrassed if you knew I knew why you know Lulu.  Nothing is sacred on that table.

Zia’s Text:  She makes herself known when she walks into a room.

Client #3:  I guess she also enjoys playing matchmaker, huh?  …So do you we should test Lulu’s skills and meet up for lunch sometime?

Zia’s Text:  I feel we have to go to lunch for our own safety if nothing else.  Don’t want to upset the woman who holds tweezers and hot wax.  I could walk out with one eyebrow next time.

Client #3:  I agree, let’s keep here happy for our sake.

     We met for lunch, and let me just say, he is a very pretty, pretty man.  Little thin for my taste, but good-looking.  Again, no spark, no flare, but no red flags either.  Just a nice guy that I’ll probably never see again.  Well, unless Lulu has other plans.

Five Minutes to Impress Me…and GO!

     I dusted off my date shoes, grabbed a pen, and headed wingwoman-less to my second attempt at speed dating last Thursday.  I checked in, ordered a beer, set my phone to silent, and then scoped out the room.  My first pick-up before the shindig even started…a new potential wingwoman.  She’s mid-30s, an attorney, and told me a few times that she was going to think of all the singles guys she knew because I was really cool and deserved someone.  Love this chick already.

     At the stroke of eight, we found our seats and the men soon followed.  There were more men than women this time around, so they had “break” stations in between a few of the dates.  One of those empty spaces was right before me.  Not exactly a comfortable situation, but I’ll get to that later.

Date #1: Architect. Cute. Studied, worked, and lived in Italy for a couple of years.  He was a little, how shall I say,…fragile, and I’m not sure how he’ll flow with my, how shall I say,…edge, but he’s worth looking into.

Date #2: Tall, dark, and mildly attractive. Had a name I could not pronounce just by reading the name tag. He then clarified that his mother changed the spelling because they were Jewish. She didn’t want her son walking around with the word “ham” in his name because it wasn’t kosher.

Date #’s 3-8: The order of these men have all kind of jumbled together in my head.  Ten dates in one night was a bit much.  However, some of their characters did leave an impression.

     One was, of course, the boring guy.  One was the adorable pocket-sized foreigner.  One was a nice guy, but was obviously not over his ex if he is bringing her up in a five-minute date.  I mean, really, dude.

     The other three characters were a bit more memorable.

The creepy foreigner: Utilized his “break” station to stare at me. His voice was light and airy and…uh…thought he was at the wrong style of speed dating, if you catch my drift.  He made sure to point out that his name’s German, but he’s not.  Buddy, I think your Asianess gave that away. He then wanted me to guess the movies he had in his collection.

The odd bird:  Yet another Asian.  We talked about traveling.  Said how I wanted to go to New Zealand some day.  He proceeded to tell me about a taxi ride he took when he was there, and how he thought the driver was farting.  Then at the end of the five minutes, he pulled out a pen to write my name down.  I looked up when I heard a strange noise.  His pen had a camera top that “flashed” when he pressed down to write.  Nothing like bringing the paparazzi to a date, how very LA of you.  

Mr. Missed Opportunity: Older, but really great.  When it was time to check “yes” or “no,”  I was on the fence about him.  It came down to…could I see myself kissing him? -Nope.

     Only two more dates left, and I was out of beer and had to pee like nobody’s business.  Fortunately, the hostess said we could take a short break.  As I was getting up, my next date was sitting down, and said, “It’s okay, I only need three minutes to impress you.”  And then he whipped out his cell phone and got lost in technology.

     When I returned from the bathroom and sat down, his first question was, “Are you Jewish?”  He claimed that he drew his conclusion from my eyes and my attitude (mind you, I hadn’t said anything yet.)  He then proceeded to try and spar with me.  Even after the whistle was blown, he was still shouting at me from his next seat in front of his next date.  I choose a one-word note to write on my paper so I would not forget who he was: PRICK.

Date #10: Big guy.  Seemed a little intimidated by other date still shouting at me, but not annoyed.  Realized later that Date #9 was his friend.  Didn’t hold that against him.  We chatted and laughed. At the end, I was commenting on making a note, so I wouldn’t forget.  He stood up and said, “I was just gonna say yes.”  -Aw, how cute.

     Ten dates down and I was beat.  My new potential wingwoman and I made our escape.  Making sure we were out of ear shot, she commented on how she thought Date #9, the Prick, liked me.  Really, are we back in elementary school?  Is he going to pull my hair at recess?  Strangely enough, I was having the same hunch.

The Results: Logged on to the site and clicked me three “yes’s” and seven “no’s.”  Was then led to see if any of my “yes’s” matched.  I had two, Date #1 and Date #10. Then I noticed that five of my “no’s” had said yes to me.  Dude, I’m batting 700!  Quite an ego boost this go-around.

Oh…and the Prick, he was one of those yes’s.  Go figure.

Pet Name Peeve

     As I have said, I have been going through a bit of a drought in the dating scene.  The one date I did have over the past few months left much to be desired, like even the actual memory of the date.  This man was so boring.  After I got home from the date, I sat and watched a little TV.  Then, I got ready for bed.  While I was brushing my teeth, I thought to myself, “What did I do this evening?”  I had clean forgotten that I was even on a date earlier that night.

     I should have known the date would not end well. This guy managed to tick me off before I ever met him. Once we got to the texting stage to arrange the date, I noticed him drop a pet name to the end of one of the texts. Then, it was on the end of just about every text. Here is a sample of a few conversations:

Pet Namer: When can we meet, mi amore?
Zia: blah blah
Pet Namer: Anywhere, mi amore. What do you like to drink?
Zia: blah blah
Pet Namer: Good night, mi amore.
Zia’s Thoughts: What’s with all this “mi amore” stuff? You hardly know me, Dude.

The next day…

Pet Namer: Good morning.
Zia: blah blah. How are you?
Pet Namer: Good. I’m thinking about our date, mi amore.
Zia: blah blah
Pet Namer: Your choice, mi amore.
Zia’s Thoughts: This guy can’t make a decision to save his life. And more, “mi amore” crap. He must tack this on to everything. Really makes a woman feel unimportant.
Zia: blah blah
Pet Namer: Ok, mi amore.

About to vomit and cringing at the idea of a date with him, he texts again a few hours later…

Pet Namer: What are you doing, mi amore?
Zia’s Thoughts: Preparing to yak.
Zia’s response: blah blah
Pet Namer: What are your plans this evening, mi amore?
Zia’s Thoughts: To change my number, mi amoron.

     This duface behind me, I’m gearing up for my second go-around at speed dating. If you remember, not enough men showed up last time, so I got a freebie. I’ll be cashing in on that tomorrow night.  If you don’t remember, here’s a refresher. I’m anxious to see if anyone will be topping Mr. Vaginal Birth.

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