Table for One

Do you know what I can’t stand (other than bigots and bad grammar)?  Whiny single people. What’s worse than that? That would be whiny single people on Valentine’s Day.

I am single. I am single by choice.  Maybe it’s because I refuse to settle for the wrong person just to have someone, or perhaps I find compromising a pain in my ass; but either way, it’s my choice. I truly don’t understand people that find their self-worth in having a boy/girlfriend.  If someone is desperate to have someone on Valentine’s Day then they should go ahead and settle for someone with whom they have nothing in common, someone who hogs the remote control or a loser that treats them like shit - and have a wonderfully romantic day!

As with most things in life, you have two options: Feel sorry for yourself for the hand that this big, mean world has dealt you; or, see yourself as an intelligent, independent happy person and TREAT YOURSELF for Valentine’s Day. 

Here’s how:

First, understand that Valentine’s Day is basically a Hallmark holiday.  If someone doesn’t show their sig-other how much they care about them on a daily basis, they are an idiot and don’t deserve to have a sig-other.  That being said, I like chocolate.

Second, decorate your home with hearts and flowers for February, regardless of whether you have someone in my life or not.  Don’t see it as a glaring reminder that you are single, but a wonderful reminder that you are loved by your parents, siblings, kids, your friends and yes, even your pets.  Show those people that love you when you are at your worst that you love and appreciate them for it. Make them little treats, buy or make them a card, or just tell them that you love and appreciate them.  Valentine’s Day does not have to be just about lovers but just about love.

Most importantly, love yourself first (I don’t mean in the physical sense but if that makes you happy when you wake up in the morning, go for it). We have all heard it a million times and it’s true: you will never find someone to love you if you don’t love you.  Every year on Valentine’s Day I do something special for myself.  Last year it was a massage and it was probably one of the best Valentine’s Days I have ever had (remember, there are nearly always openings at the salon on this day because all of the attached people are out to dinner or whatever).  I had an awesome massage late in the day then went home all warm and mushy, had a glass of wine and a nice dinner, read a great book and relaxed for the evening. I didn’t have to argue with myself about what to watch on TV and I was not disappointed in the least in the gift I had received. 

This year - this evening - I am getting a facial (insert dirty joke here and see footnote on facials). I scheduled it months ago and have been looking forward to it ever since.  Again, Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be a reminder that you are single, but more a reminder that you are loved and that you love youself.  

And now for my advice to men for the day:

Whenever I tell certain friends that I am scheduled for a facial, they giggle. Of course they are thinking of the dirty sense of the word.  I typically giggle too because most of the time I have the sense of humor of a 17 year-old boy; however, I am here to tell you men the truth: women don’t enjoy your kind of facials. If you have been with a woman that told you she did, she lies.  She is trying to look either cool or freaky in bed but either way, she lied to you. If you are a guy and you are into that kind of thing, you really should date a porn star. Porn stars don’t like it either but they don’t really have much of a choice if they want to get paid.  Your girlfriend/wife can thank me now.

 Have a great Valentine’s Day everyone, particularly if you are single!

Last Saturday Night Was Wild

Last week I did something that I have not done in a really long time.  I don’t feel bad about it.  Why should I? I am a single, adult woman.  I work hard, take my responsibilities seriously and rarely do anything for myself.  I decided that it was time to do something for ME.  Here’s how it went.…

It was Saturday night and I was restless.  I had not been out in a really long time and I’ve had little contact with the opposite sex of late. I needed a change in a bad way.

I don’t know what hit me but I was lying on my bed reading a book and I looked at the clock. Nine o’clock on a Saturday night and I am home alone reading?? What the hell is wrong with me? So I jumped out of bed and threw open my closet doors with purpose.  I start flinging clothing onto my bed like closet-vomit until I found the perfect outfit.  Small, comfortable, displayed the parts I wanted to display and hid the parts I didn’t.  Satisfied, I walked out.

I chose a place I hadn’t been to in as long as I could remember.   The last time I was there it hadn’t ended well and I left disappointed.  I knew that would NOT be the case on this night.  I admit I did open the door a little tentatively; but I put on a brave face and ventured inside.  The place smelled a little funny.  Pungent, a little like incense and a little like a kind of cheese that I couldn’t put a name to.  I assumed it was all the dinners they serve and decided to ignore it.  Eventually I got used to it and couldn’t smell it at all.

I started to relax and finished my beverage while I looked around the place and took in the sights when I decided to go outside for a smoke.   I hesitated, perhaps for a bit too long, when I spotted what would eventually be my trouble of the night. The first thing that popped into my head was “a cool drink of water”.  I don’t know why, but it did.

I was a little taken aback.  The entire thing was fast and furious and completely unexpected - particularly in that place.  But, I wasn’t complaining and I wasn’t looking back!

By the end of the night, after the sweating and the grunting, the rubbing and the caressing, the dirty talk and the sweet talk, I was completely satisfied and happy! I didn’t regret what I had done, didn’t care what people thought!  I smiled as I looked back over my shining clean refrigerator, complimented myself on a job well done, shut the door and went to bed.  I had even killed an hour. 

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: I like to live my life with no regrets.

Phuket is Not Just a City in Thailand

So clearly the dating game has hit a brick wall. A brick fire wall. You know the kind that keeps fire on the other side of the wall? Yeah, that kind. Granted, I may be a little gun-shy after the last guy (that I almost dated) who couldn’t even remember which chick I was; but the point is, things have been a little slow. On the other hand, I have been very busy adjusting to my new life as an empty nester. I have been filling my days with such life-changing things as cleaning out closets, reorganizing bathrooms and making a Facebook page for my dog (true story).

My most recent venture (and as it turns out much more interactive than my dog’s Facebook page): a neighborhood book club.

Two years ago I belonged to a book club that I enjoyed a great deal. It allowed me to read books that I would not normally read, and the women involved had vastly different viewpoints (conservative) than the people with which I usually hangout (not conservative). It was a very diverse group that brought interesting input to the discussions. They even put up with my crazy antics and choice of mindless books (usually of a sexual nature). What I didn’t like about it was driving all over God’s creation to go to the meetings (which left drinking to a minimum. Boooo! ). Eventually the vast differences in the members created bickering and in-fighting that led to the club’s demise. I believe it’s still active, but many of the original members are gone.

I remember on one particular evening we were finished discussing the book and somehow the talk turned to sex and then, our number of sexual partners. Normally I know better than to share that information but Of COURSE the conversation began with “you can be honest” and “no one will judge you”. So when I said my number (or the closest I can get), one of the girls (who has been married for many years and whose number is supposedly 4) said, “Wow. You were a real slut, weren’t you?” Typically name calling doesn’t bother me. No one is surprised by the fact that I enjoy sex and when you enjoy something, why would you want to have the same kind every day? It’s kinda like eating cookies. If you really like cookies do you want the same kind of cookie day after day? No. You want a variety of cookies so they don’t get boring. But it wasn’t so much the words coming out of the girl’s mouth that bothered me, but rather whose mouth out of which they came. I never suspected this woman to be judgmental until that night and I never looked at her the same way again in the future.

Anyway, eventually I quit that book club but I did miss the camaraderie and discussion so I thought I would start one in my own neighborhood (where I can just stagger home after an enlightening evening of profound discussion and massive quantities of wine). I already had a few women in mind to invite but I know these women well and we are all pretty likeminded. I wanted some real differences of opinion so I thought of an older woman that lives in my hood. She is probably in her 70’s, is a lot of fun and seems young at heart. (Come on! She even got her first tattoo at 60!) So I assumed she would be okay with our group. I phoned and invited her to join telling her I thought she would be a great addition and would bring some different perspective to the club.She told me she was interested but the only thing holding her back was that she “didn’t like the ‘F’ word”. Uh-oh.

Anyone who knows me (or reads my blog) knows the love affair I have with the word “fuck”. The way it rolls of the tongue when used in the middle of a fucking sentence; the harshness of it when it’s over annunciated as an expletive. FUCK! It’s awesome! And don’t even get me started on its versatility. Furthermore, it’s become so main-stream with so many variations used - even in freaking television these days - I just assumed that it was no longer offensive in casual conversation. Obviously I wouldn’t use it in business; but, that girl in the suit speaking in a professional voice and acting like she cares what you have to say isn’t the real me anyway.

Needless to say, I was pretty surprised by my friend’s reaction to the word and the fact that she hated it so much it would keep her from joining our group. What happens if someone chooses a book that uses the word freely? Would that offend her too? I needed to know more. “Really? Why?”, I asked. She didn’t really give me a specific reason but rather told me a story of a bunch of women with whom she used to go camping that used the word freely. She said that she eventually confessed her disdain for the word and in lieu of using the word they started calling it the “PH” word. Wait, what?? It’s one thing not to use the word or to call it the “F” word in lieu of that, but even the acronym for it has to change? WHAT THE PHUK IS THAT???

Of course I love words and I have always been of the belief that words are only powerful if you empower them. I mean, let’s say someone calls me an idiot. I know I am not an idiot and therefore those words are powerless. On the other hand, let’s say someone calls me a slob. I don’t consider myself a slob but if I am honest with myself, I would have to admit that I do have a tendency to be messy; so that may hit a nerve. Another example: a famous politician is giving a speech. If you lean toward that candidate’s way of thinking, you find it to be powerful. But, if you don’t agree with the candidate and you don’t believe a word that is coming out of his mouth, then his speech doesn’t mean shit to you. So why give so much power to one particular word?

Some of my friends have issues with certain words and I find it amusing (and totally use it against them). One of them doesn’t like the word “panties” and another hates the word “moist”. I can annoy them both in one fell swoop by saying “My panties are moist.” BAM! As for me, I can only think of one word that can physically make me flinch when someone uses it: the “N” word. I don’t believe that word should be used by anyone be they white or black. I do however believe that I have good reason; having seen the movie Roots as a child and having been impacted by the horror of that movie, it takes me back every time I hear it. Other than that, words don’t bother me.

Anyway, as there is no way for me to curb the entire group’s language, much less my own (nor would I want to), unfortunately there is one less addition to our book club. What a shame that one word can be given so much power as to keep a woman that doesn’t get out much from having a fun evening out. We do, however, have a great name for our club: it’s a Fucking Book Club.

So now I am curious if there any words in particular that my readers can’t stand? If so, is there a reason behind the disdain for the word or is it just the way it sounds?

Dating and the Internet: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good:

You can meet a shitload of people these days over the internet.  Back in the day you met potential mates at a bar, church, a party, etc.  It required you to remove your ass from the couch, get all gussied-up, and actually walk out of your house if you wanted to meet someone (unless you were looking for a nice Jehovah Witness, in which case you just needed to answer the door).  There were far less potential partners to choose from.  Maybe you met one or two at a party, three or four at church and a half a dozen at a club. This is not the case anymore.  I can sit on my couch in my pajamas with bedhead and no makeup and meet dozens of guys online. Based on their profiles, I can also determine their level of literacy (kind of a deal-breaker for me) before the sappy love-notes even start (that I would feel the need to correct for spelling and grammatical errors and return to them).  I can “ignore” them if I choose, or email them if I want more information.  It’s awesome in an incredibly lazy kind of way.

The Bad:

Choose a previous Antics blog post.  Read it.  Insert story here.

 

The Ugly:

When I was younger and fell head over heels in love with a guy (and it ended in a fiery inferno), I admit that a few times I would show up at his work or his house to see if he was (a) where he said he was going to be and (b) with someone else in that place he said he was going to be.  Some people would call that stalking.  Stalking is such an ugly word.  I prefer “Curious As To His Whereabouts And Company” (or CATH WAC).  Doesn’t that sound better??

Whatever you want to call it, back in the day before Facebook and cell phones, one could only CATH WAC someone for a relatively short period of time before they had to be at work or do their laundry or get other shit done.   These days, with all of the technology we have at our disposal, you can CATH WAC someone from the comfort of your own home, or car, or sitting on the fucking toilet for God’s sake. Sometimes, it is whether you choose to not. 

For example:

 A good friend of my daughter’s broke up with her long-term boyfriend when she left for college.  She was pretty upset that the relationship had ended.  She did her best to put on a brave face but her first mistake was remaining friends with him on Facebook. Inevitably, every time he made friends with a new chick, it came up on her news feed (Hello, Salt! Please jump into my wound!).  Then of course, she would creep on those girls’ FB profiles (let this be a lesson to you, HIDE YOUR FB PROFILE FROM PUBLIC VIEW!!)  She tortured herself daily, hourly and even secondly at times; literally watching him move on from halfway across the country! (Clearly we have come a long way from sitting in our cars in front of someone’s house.)  To make matters worse, when she wasn’t creeping on FB, she would get text messages from “friends” telling her all of the shitty things he had done/was doing while she was away. She couldn’t get away from it even if she had wanted to.  

Eventually she got smart and blocked his ass on Facebook and told her friends to knock it the fuck off, but the damage had been done.  What should have taken a few weeks to get over and begin to heal took a lot longer because technology kept pulling the scab off.  (Yes.  That would be the ugly part.)

Seriously, how many people do we know that may have stalkerish tendencies that soon turn into full on get-a-retraining-order-whack-jobs because of the ease of technology? My guess is that it is far more today than ever before.

And don’t even get me started on camera phones and camcorders!  I am forever looking for holes in the walls of department store dressing rooms…

So what do you think? Has technology helped or hurt the dating scene? Has anyone had any similar experiences with break-ups and technology?

The Quandary

I am in a quandary. This doesn’t happen very often as I am a relatively decisive person.  Maybe you guys can help me out?

A few weeks back, I met a guy while working.  We seemed to hit it off pretty well during the appointment and I thought there might be a connection there.  He is good looking, has a beautiful, clean home and he has a dog that he treats like a king (I like that in a guy).  During the appointment, we talked about relatively personal stuff.  He informed me that he had been married and his wife cheated on him two years ago and moved out.  He kept the house and in his spare time had added a sunroom, a pool house and a large covered patio – with his own two hands.  He said he builds things to relax.  (I like that in a guy too because (1) he is obviously good with his hands and (2) I require a relatively large amount of solitude and when I feel the need to be alone, I can say “You should go build something. Like a vanity or an armoire. You know, for ME.”). 

The pièce de résistance was when I walked into one of his spare rooms and saw a massage table. I stopped, turned to him and asked, “Do you have your own massage parlor?”  He responded with “No, my wife had back problems so I got certified in MASSAGE.” Hmmmm. 

During the appointment he was relatively complimentary (at one point he turned to me and said “You’re pretty smart.”  Yes. Yes I am and you must be pretty smart for seeing that).  Between the compliments and telling me that his wife was gone, I assumed that he was interested.  I also found out we have mutual friends, another bonus. 

The rules of my career are clear that there is to be no “impropriety,” perceived or otherwise, so I needed to complete my work for him prior to pursuing anything on a personal level (See?!? I am NOT a hooker), but I was pretty intrigued by this guy.  So I went home and thought of professional question to text him. I did and a texting conversation ensued.  More Hmmmm.

I completed my work in about a week and texted him to let him know that I was done. Another rather long texting conversation ensued in which he complimented my hair (which IS awesome, by the way).  “Ok” I thought, “this guy MUST be interested.”  He told me to contact him again after by upcoming trip and so I did.  This is where things get….confusing.

So he calls me and invites me to a professional baseball game on a Sunday.  “Oh, sorry, that’s my church day.”  Hahahahaha.   By now you all know that I don’t care for sports much but to prove it my ex-husband and I went to a professional ballgame many years ago and I was so bored I made him leave in the middle of the game.  I couldn’t even drink my way into fun with that.  The problem for me with baseball is the downtime.  The time spent between the plays is way too long; just get up there and hit the fucking ball.  You do not need to walk in a circle, hit the ground with your bat, adjust you balls and spit for 5 minutes prior to settling into your position to hit the fucking ball.  Why don’t you do that before you get up to bat so as not to waste my time?

Anyway, I told him I wasn’t really into baseball and that I would have to pass on the game.  (Let me just stop here and say that there are probably women out there that would have gone to the game, if only to spend time with this guy.  Those women don’t really like sports either, but would pretend to in order to get with a guy.  Those women are stupid.  I will never pretend to be someone I’m not to get a guy to like me.  What if you two hit it off?  You are now stuck going to ballgames together or you would need to “come clean” and tell him the truth, at which point he would feel duped.  The whole thing is a bad idea.)

O.K., back to our conversation:  after some more discussion about sports he states that he is pretty active in outdoorsy-type activities, kayaking, snowboarding and the like.  I would definitely try the kayaking (down a nice lazy creek, not that “white-water-hit-your-head-on-a-rock-and-die” kind) but I don’t do winter sports.  HOWEVER as a compromise, I AM willing to get dressed in the cute little ski-bunny outfit and wait for you by the bar in the chalet.  (See?? I can be flexible!)  He then asks me what I do for fun.  Let’s see….screw, write a funny blog, screw, read, screw… No seriously, my mind starts racing trying to think of something active that I do.  I couldn’t think of one thing.  I certainly couldn’t answer with “I’m pretty much a sedentary slug,” so I came up with dancing which I am trying to get back into by learning country line dancing (mostly because no one wants to see a 40-something woman hip hopping).  He said he feels the same way about line dancing as I do about baseball but that “the other two women I date both do that”.  Wait, what?

NOW the conversation is starting to get good.  I asked for further clarification of that statement and he stated that when his wife cheated and left- last summer- his friends set him up with different women, two of whom he currently dates.  For some reason I was under the impression that his divorce was two years ago (a good long time to get over THAT fucked-up situation) but came to find out it was last summer.  It’s a little close to my time frame of “one year after a divorce” that I will date a guy, but I might be able to get past that.  Boning two chicks and wanting to be thrown into the mix? Not so sure about that one.  Herein lays my quandary:

1.       I don’t do competition well.  It’s one of the reasons I don’t date married men.   How do I know that he isn’t thinking of one of the other ones while we are going at it? I mean, with three of us it would have to get confusing after a while.

2.       It’s not like I am looking for a serious committed relationship. Or maybe I am.  I don’t know.  As I’ve stated before, I have no intention of getting married again.  I am emotionally and financially secure (OK, financially anyway) and I’m not looking for someone to “take care of me” or anything like that. Furthermore, when things start getting really serious, I’ve been known to get scared and run.  So why should I have a problem with someone dating two other chicks along with me?

3.       Maybe it’s a control issue? If I am the only one, I have the control.  If there are 3 of us (this is starting to sound more and more like “Sister Wives”), and I have an upcoming event that I want him to attend with me; do I need to schedule it 4 months in advance to know that I get that date?  I’m not a great turn-taker. I want what I want and I want it now.

4.       Maybe it’s more of a time issue. He stated that one of them is “quite young” (what the fuck does that mean?? Great. Now I have to compete with a 25 year old??), and she lives south and comes up for entire weekends to hang out. I think I’d like someone that has more time than once a month but less than 5 times per week. (See?? I don’t know what the hell I want.) 

5.       I do like his honesty.  No punches pulled; just straight-out lay-it-on-the-line honesty.  Refreshing.

6.       He gives MASSAGES.

7.       He builds shit.  Like with hammers and saws and wood. 

8.       He is incredibly busy. Besides his full time job and dating, he volunteers with many organizations: from music to teaching winter sports to cleaning up highways for his company.  Volunteering is admirable.  Picking up used condoms and heroine needles from the side of a road is gross.

9.       He gives MASSAGES.

10.   It’s almost a challenge to show him my bag of tricks and see if he kicks the other two to the curb.  If he does, I win. But then what? I end up coming up with some stupid excuse to break it off and he’s alone again? Maybe I won't this time? And what if he doesn’t kick them to the curb? It would be a massive blow to my ego.  I don’t enjoy massive blows to my ego.  They piss me off.

 

 
Yes, I am over-thinking as usual.  It’s what I do.

So I’m turning the tables on you guys this week.  Usually it is I giving the advice (for lack of a better term).  This week it is me with the question: Should I go on a date with this guy and see what happens or should I just move on (move on to WHAT? I have no idea.)

 

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...and so it begins...

 My name is Gina and I was married once. For like 5 minutes.  Hard to believe but I have a daughter that turned 18 this year. My ex-husband left when my daughter was 3 months old while we were having the house exterminated.  No, seriously.  I have highly recommended that company over the years.  They really do eliminate all of the pests. 

Since then I have dated (and dated and dated and dated) so much so that I have now become what my friends refer to as a serial dater. 

So here I am, still single (and loving it) and my daughter will graduate from high school soon and go off to college and I will be here alone.  My daughter is concerned about me being alone since it has been just the two of us for as long as she can remember.  My family and friends are concerned as well and think it’s time for me to settle down. I am not so sure.  I really love my single life.  Sure, sometimes it gets  a little loney (and I imagine it will be even moreso when my daughter leaves) and having sex with a warm body can be a good thing (depending, of course, on who's warm body); but, I really do love my single life.  I don't have to cook or clean if I don't feel like it and I don't have to make sure that my legs are shaved (like in the winter when it's cold).  And best of all, I can have sex with whomever I want whenever I want (after having shaved my legs, of course).

Maybe. Maybe I will think about it.  I mean it's not like I haven't tried finding a long term relationship in the past.  I had every intention of getting remarried and probably having more kids 15 years ago.  I dated guys (granted, mostly that I met in bars and clubs) that I thought might turn into something long term but they seemed to want to move so quickly.  A few months of dating and they are talking about moving in together! The thought of having to clean out a dresser drawer or make space in my closet seemed like a lot of extra and unnecessary work. So I typically ended it.  It was nice for a couple of months though.

My mother insists that I won't meet a nice guy in a bar and suggested I try to meet one in church. I imagine I would have to actually go to church in order for that to happen.  "Fine. I'll give it shot," I said, "but it better happen quickly because I am NOT making a habit out of church."   I walked in tentatively waiting to be smited for all of the swearing I do and the sex that I have had but I made it in safely and looked around for the singles section. Huh.  Not readily apparent.  In fact, there seemed to be families everywhere! WTF??  

Coincidentally, because I am a sinner I chose a more casual, laid-back church that wouldn't necessarily toss me out if I got into the moment and yelled, "Yeah! I fucking LOVE God!"  But, because of the casual nature of the church, they readily accept people of alternative lifestyles.  While I have no problem with that, I found myself staring at men that wouldn't stare at me back.  Why are gay guys so damn good looking??  This church thing wasn't working.  On a side note, if churches were smart they would make all of the single people sit in a particular section, perhaps by sexual orientation, thus making it easier to find one another thus ultimately perpetuating the congregation. Unfortunately, none of the church people ask for my opinion.

Being the tenacious (and horny) kind of girl that I am, I was NOT going to give up. 

Shortly thereafter, while sitting around drinking with a couple of girl friends, it was suggested that I find a man in the grocery store. (Looking back, perhaps taking dating advice from married women while sitting around drinking and talking about sex wasn't the best idea, but hindsight is 20/20.)  I was told that when I am out shopping and spot a hot guy in the aisle picking out his pasta sauce, I am to enthusiastically start a conversation pertaining to his pasta sauce needs.  Uh huh.    At the grocery store a few days later, I am approaching a cute guy in the aisle ready to make my move and I begin to play this scenario out in my mind.  I see many various endings, only one of which ends with me meeting the man of my dreams.  Most of the scenarios end with hot guy looking at me as if I am on crack, or his wife walking around the corner, or the guy answering my sauce question followed by awkward silence in which I am obligated to purchase the pasta sauce with meat when I am a vegetarian; so I choked and lost my nerve. 

It is then that I decided to go with the dating plan of the modern age: online dating.  This blog is my dating story:  past, present and future. 

Coming tomorrow: My first attempt at online dating.