At the gym today, I saw a female (FEMALE) wearing zubazs. Please stop the planet, I would like to get off now.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Why Lying Works
So, per a discussion with another divorc-ing friend, I changed my online dating profile -- and by "change" I mean lie. ...like I'm now five years yonger and I've never been married. My girlfriend Michelle told me that her brother's current girlfriend said she was four years younger in her online dating profile -- and later had to admit that minor detail to the boy (8th grade...12th grade...both graduation years).
Since Michelle and I were 1) out for drinks; and 2) the story was proof positive that lying was an effective tool in the art of seduction, we came home and changed my dating profile. And you know what the sad thing is... it worked. I immediately received several messages from attractive (really attractive) men in my own age range. Previously, men my own age were not interested (see my eariler post on the expiration date of women). Instead, I received messages from men who should be asking out my mother not me (and I wish I was exagerrating on that one).
Could someone explain why the hell this is? If you're in your mid-thirties, why are you dating a 23 year old? Or the better question, why do you insist on only dating 23 year olds, rather than an individual within a five year age range on either side? It tells me you are not serious about being in a relationship, and therefore should not be paying money to be online. It also tells me you're kinda creepy and definitely a douche.
Full disclosure, I have not gone out with any of these boys. I'm not a very good liar (despite the law degree) and do not want to explain the broad-brush logic that altered my age from Nixon-era to Carter-era. Besides, if he wasn't interested prior to my crafty math skills, we're not gonna get along. ...Because creepy and douchy are both deal-breakers in my world.
Since Michelle and I were 1) out for drinks; and 2) the story was proof positive that lying was an effective tool in the art of seduction, we came home and changed my dating profile. And you know what the sad thing is... it worked. I immediately received several messages from attractive (really attractive) men in my own age range. Previously, men my own age were not interested (see my eariler post on the expiration date of women). Instead, I received messages from men who should be asking out my mother not me (and I wish I was exagerrating on that one).
Could someone explain why the hell this is? If you're in your mid-thirties, why are you dating a 23 year old? Or the better question, why do you insist on only dating 23 year olds, rather than an individual within a five year age range on either side? It tells me you are not serious about being in a relationship, and therefore should not be paying money to be online. It also tells me you're kinda creepy and definitely a douche.
Full disclosure, I have not gone out with any of these boys. I'm not a very good liar (despite the law degree) and do not want to explain the broad-brush logic that altered my age from Nixon-era to Carter-era. Besides, if he wasn't interested prior to my crafty math skills, we're not gonna get along. ...Because creepy and douchy are both deal-breakers in my world.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
...Switch
As previously mentioned (and common sense dictates), moving to a new city and meeting people is not easy. (Unless you're in college. Then it's awesome.) But after the most recent, I am beginning to question my karma in this genre.
Admittedly, I can be overly dramatic sometimes (shut up). I recently called my bff in Indiana complaining about my woe-is-me social life. She gave me an inspiring pep talk (which is why she's my bff). "You need to meet some people who surf or bike... or a running club...join a club; you'll find your people and find your niche." She was right. I had an invitation from a colleague to join his running club; another friend encouraged me to join the local triathlon club. Both good ideas; but without explicit detail (such as, "meet me here at x time"...or better yet, "I'll pick you up at xpm.") I lack the follow-through. And since no one else follows through either (see my February 5th post on flaky California), I rather spend the evening watching reruns of Glee. ...because honestly, I'm exhausted.
In a new town, everything is a chore. Example: I need to go to the dry cleaner - I have to (a) go online to research; (b) locate a reliable dry cleaner; (c) find directions to reliable dry cleaner; (d) complete the task by driving to said dry cleaner and dropping off clothes. ...You really start to appreciate all those little things you were able to do on auto-pilot in your previous life.
I was discussing my transition to SoCal with a colleague who mentioned how his wife had a lot of luck meeting people through meetup.com. I took his advice and went onto the website... and more of the same occurred. Example #2: "Let's go Mountain Biking." I have to figure out where said mountain biking location is; I have to look up directions; I have to load my 40 pound mountain bike on my car; I have to actually find said location, unload bike, and THEN - and only then do I meet new people (on my best behavior), and try not to make an ass out of myself with my sub-part skills while riding a new course.... Fuck it, I'll stay in with Finn.
Then low-and-behold...I find an all-female surf club. This alleviates a big fear of mine: being judged. Women are more encouraging and less competitive when it comes to outdoor activities. Someone might actually teach me and give me advice to improve my skills. (It also alleviates my fear of drowning. Because if other people are around who know me (or at least know of my existence), they will be less likely to let me drown...or surf into a rock... and then drown.) I fill out the sign-up form, explain that I'm new in town, I've surfed a couple times, and I want to make friends and improve my skills in a non-competitive environment.
A few days pass and I receive a confirmation email that my membership is approved (hurray!). I open the email which gives some basics about my new super-cool surfer girl friends. The headline reads (and I swear to god, I'm not kidding), "Welcome to the Lesbian Community."
...definitely think karma might be telling me a few things there....
Admittedly, I can be overly dramatic sometimes (shut up). I recently called my bff in Indiana complaining about my woe-is-me social life. She gave me an inspiring pep talk (which is why she's my bff). "You need to meet some people who surf or bike... or a running club...join a club; you'll find your people and find your niche." She was right. I had an invitation from a colleague to join his running club; another friend encouraged me to join the local triathlon club. Both good ideas; but without explicit detail (such as, "meet me here at x time"...or better yet, "I'll pick you up at xpm.") I lack the follow-through. And since no one else follows through either (see my February 5th post on flaky California), I rather spend the evening watching reruns of Glee. ...because honestly, I'm exhausted.
In a new town, everything is a chore. Example: I need to go to the dry cleaner - I have to (a) go online to research; (b) locate a reliable dry cleaner; (c) find directions to reliable dry cleaner; (d) complete the task by driving to said dry cleaner and dropping off clothes. ...You really start to appreciate all those little things you were able to do on auto-pilot in your previous life.
I was discussing my transition to SoCal with a colleague who mentioned how his wife had a lot of luck meeting people through meetup.com. I took his advice and went onto the website... and more of the same occurred. Example #2: "Let's go Mountain Biking." I have to figure out where said mountain biking location is; I have to look up directions; I have to load my 40 pound mountain bike on my car; I have to actually find said location, unload bike, and THEN - and only then do I meet new people (on my best behavior), and try not to make an ass out of myself with my sub-part skills while riding a new course.... Fuck it, I'll stay in with Finn.
Then low-and-behold...I find an all-female surf club. This alleviates a big fear of mine: being judged. Women are more encouraging and less competitive when it comes to outdoor activities. Someone might actually teach me and give me advice to improve my skills. (It also alleviates my fear of drowning. Because if other people are around who know me (or at least know of my existence), they will be less likely to let me drown...or surf into a rock... and then drown.) I fill out the sign-up form, explain that I'm new in town, I've surfed a couple times, and I want to make friends and improve my skills in a non-competitive environment.
A few days pass and I receive a confirmation email that my membership is approved (hurray!). I open the email which gives some basics about my new super-cool surfer girl friends. The headline reads (and I swear to god, I'm not kidding), "Welcome to the Lesbian Community."
...definitely think karma might be telling me a few things there....
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Careful What You Wish For, Eygpt
I’m a fairly ignorant American when it comes to international affairs. The Kardashians, I could tell you about; Armenia itself – not so much. And, yes, I realize I should renew my subscription to “The Economist,” but the best I’ve done recently is turn on CNN every few days or so. During the last three-plus weeks, I’ve been provided with “ blah, blah, blah, Egypt, blah blah protest” …but no one took the time to back up and explain:
(a) what was happening;
(b) why it was happening; and
(c) why I should care.
So I didn’t care. However, when a (blonde) colleague turned to me a week or so ago and asked me why the Egyptians were mad at Anderson Cooper, I started digging a little deeper. (not because of this colleague’s ignorance, mind you...but because Anderson Cooper is hot.)
This is what I’ve caught: the Egyptians have had a dictator, not a president. Hosni Mubarak first took office under emergency law when Anwar Sadat was assonated on October 6, 1981. At that time, the premise was to prevent the Muslim Brotherhood from overtaking the Egyptian government (I’m not sure why that would have been bad, especially when the Muslim Brotherhood is now to be a “major political force” in the new Egypt). That lasted 28 years. The people felt repressed; they protested peacefully (with the exception of the Anderson Cooper thing) for 18 days and now Mubarak is to be replaced with a high military council.
….And scene. Right? …didn’t think so.
Although the Egyptian people are overjoyed, and we as democratic citizens of the world are grateful that good has triumphed over evil, I have to pause. …could someone explain to me what a “high military council” is? Who makes up this so-called council – besides the Minister of Defense Mohammed Hussein Tantawi (who is not photogenic by the way, and does not instill a lot of confidence in me personally)? …and why am I associating “military council” with “dictatorship” – which happens to be the same reign that oppressed the Egyptian people up until yesterday. Call me a pessimist, but I’ll need some additional details before signing off on this one.
The other question I have is whether democracy will actually work in the Middle East. If Mubarak’s 28 stronghold can collapse in 18 days, what will happen with other governments in the region? Will those currently in power grant concessions to their people, or will their grip on political authority only become stronger? Twenty-eight years and 19 days later, I’m still confused.
To the Egyptian people, congratulations. You have effected significant change, and that is rare and notable. For myself, I still have more questions than answers: Is Egypt truly free? Will democracy prevail in the Middle East? Did the U.S. occupation of Iraq have a significant impact on Mubarak’s fall? And if so, what is the U.S.’s responsibility on this world stage? For now, I suppose I’ll stay tuned.
Egypt – If I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open. Anderson – I’m glad you’re safe. And still pretty.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
To Be or Not to Be
People in California are flaky. And non-committal. And this week I've reached my limit.
A couple weeks back, a friend and I were talking about boxing. I mentioned how I took a class once a week on the east coast and was missing it. Because said friend has guest passes to his crazy boxing/marital arts gym (one of the five gyms he's a member of...because all people do here is workout), he mentions that I should go check it out with him sometime. He offers, right? So you'd think that because an offer was made ...and I accepted said offer...and I follow up -- three times --that eventually he would take me to the fucking gym. You'd be wrong.
Example #2: I meet a boy online. I chat with online-boy. We start texting. We start talking. He even offers to pick me up from the airport...in LA (which is not close, and no, I will not do that for you). But after six weeks, has he asked me out? Clearly, the answer is no.
Between these incidents (and trying to survive on one income in a state with a 9.3 percent income tax (fucking socialists)), I'm starting to question this move to the Golden State (...golden...because they take all my gold). How is it possible that I'll meet people and make friends when I can't get the few people I know to follow through?
My frustration led me to ask another DC transplant where all the bitchy East Coasters hang out. His answer...they go home.
A couple weeks back, a friend and I were talking about boxing. I mentioned how I took a class once a week on the east coast and was missing it. Because said friend has guest passes to his crazy boxing/marital arts gym (one of the five gyms he's a member of...because all people do here is workout), he mentions that I should go check it out with him sometime. He offers, right? So you'd think that because an offer was made ...and I accepted said offer...and I follow up -- three times --that eventually he would take me to the fucking gym. You'd be wrong.
Example #2: I meet a boy online. I chat with online-boy. We start texting. We start talking. He even offers to pick me up from the airport...in LA (which is not close, and no, I will not do that for you). But after six weeks, has he asked me out? Clearly, the answer is no.
Between these incidents (and trying to survive on one income in a state with a 9.3 percent income tax (fucking socialists)), I'm starting to question this move to the Golden State (...golden...because they take all my gold). How is it possible that I'll meet people and make friends when I can't get the few people I know to follow through?
My frustration led me to ask another DC transplant where all the bitchy East Coasters hang out. His answer...they go home.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Expiration Date
I had lunch with co-workers recently and learned the following: Men don't want to date women older than themselves, because women "expire." Stay with me... apparently women -- like an IRS audits -- have a statute of limitations, because there are only so many years that we are actually available for childbearing purposes. ... I am assuming (according to this 26 year old) that my pro-creation skills are more valuable than all my other talents combined. And I wish I knew that years ago, because I certainly would not have bothered going to law school.
Offensive as the phrasing of this may be, I do get the point. And I'm quite concerned about it (which you probably picked up on since I'm writing about it). I'm not getting younger. I am getting divorced. And the combination worries me...not because I want to be in a relationship or have a baby...but because the possibility could be taken away.
Then again, if the alternative to being alone is dating some kid born during Regan's second term with little tact...well, I think we all know my answer to that choice... I'll channel Nancy and just say no.
Offensive as the phrasing of this may be, I do get the point. And I'm quite concerned about it (which you probably picked up on since I'm writing about it). I'm not getting younger. I am getting divorced. And the combination worries me...not because I want to be in a relationship or have a baby...but because the possibility could be taken away.
Then again, if the alternative to being alone is dating some kid born during Regan's second term with little tact...well, I think we all know my answer to that choice... I'll channel Nancy and just say no.
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