UpDATE: Mr. Birmingham. (Ugh!)

(There’s two other parts to this story of my Southern Gentleman Caller and myself.  Get caught up here for the first one and here for the second part.)

After very, very brief texts since we had last seen each other (and our first amazing date), I was feeling frustrated because he hadn’t yet nailed down any plans for the upcoming weekend.

We had tentatively said we’d get together this weekend. He was getting really busy with shipments of his things arriving to his hotel, and was still working with realtors to find a house.

But he was interested in seeing me this weekend, as opposed to a day during the week while all this was going on.

First, there is one thing about me you must understand:

I don’t chase.

I expect my experiences to contain more of the traditional type of courting and dating where a man pursues a woman.

Yes, that’s hard to find in 2014, and even more rare to see in such an ambitous city as Los Angeles.

However, I do my part to help things along the way if I see a great opportunity, but in general, I subscribe to the rule that if a guy is interested in you, he’ll make that clear.

He’ll call. He’ll plan. He’ll communicate.

Now granted, some guys have those intentions but are truly busy and/or they don’t have a clue on how to be more forward. Communication is key here.

So Wednesday passes, Thursday passes, and it’s Friday night.

We had touched base on Thursday – his cars had arrived! Yay.

But I had heard NOTHING else since then, and got his voicemail the few times I tried to call. Boo.

Finally, Saturday afternoon (after a very fun day with a good friend of mine), I give him a call.

No answer. Surprise, surprise.

So I send this text, to which he immediately replies:

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I respond and let him know I was disappointed in his level of communication and how I deserved at the very least basics.

I also said that I totally understand how he could be so overwhelmed, having just moved across the country, and quietly was skeptical about whether or not he would be able to give me what I’m looking for right now anyways.

The conversation went back and forth a few times. I told him to keep my number, that I’m talking to and seeing other people, but nothing’s too serious and I’m not in a hurry.

So there you have it.

And now I can scream….

WHAT THE HELL?! ARE THERE ABSOLUTELY NO SINGLE MEN IN LA THAT I CONNECT WITH WHO WANT THE SAME THINGS AS ME AND ARE READY RIGHT NOW?! F#×%*!

#rantover

UpDATE: Meet Mr. Birmingham – Part Two

(If you haven’t read Part One, click here)

As we’re seated in the fancy lounge area on a comfy couch made of velvet, a waitress approaches us and leaves us the cocktail menu. 

The room is occupied by tourists speaking other languages, families that look like they just walked off of a Ralph Lauren Ad, a group of friends, another group of older, wealthy couples, and people on dates.

Several times I catch people sitting nearby staring at us, and I can’t figure out if they’re trying to figure out who we are or what.  Celebrities frequent this hotel, so perhaps the out-of-towners are curious.  This does happen frequently to me, however, and just the other night at a charity event someone asked if I was on TV.  Hmmm.  Anyways…

It’s definitely “First Date Jitters” happening, and we’re both a bit nervous, as expected.  We make small talk, and he orders us both some wine when she returns.

He asks great questions and we continue to find out that we have even more in common.  Some quite interesting things pop up.

He asks, “Where’s the #1 place you want to travel to in the world?”

Without hesitation, I respond with confidence, “Dubai! I’ve been obsessed for years.”

He’s SHOCKED because he admits that’s the #1 place he has on his list! Weird.

We learn that he we both play piano, and played percussion in band during high school.

I learn that he was very involved in mentoring kids in schools back home in Alabama, that he was a season ticket holder to the Atlanta Hawks, and that he has three older sisters who he’s very close to.

He was married for 12 years, but divorced back in 2010.  I learn that she had a small town mentality, which is fine, but not when she knew he was meant for bigger things and therefore tried to hold him back.

We can definitely relate on this one.

He tells me he thinks I’m amazing, and up until that moment, didn’t think I was real.

“Real??” I ask.  “I’m real and sitting right here in front of you!”

He admits to deleting his OkCupid profile earlier that morning, and hoped that meeting me tonight would actually happen.  I guess something about my profile and pics was “too good to be true.” :)

We chat for a long time about life and his move to Los Angeles and why this all happened for him.

Typically, everyone who moves here has a dream they’re pursuing.  This guy has quite the story already.

He’s an engineer who works remotely from home.  He has two major clients (think big govt contracts) which pay him very well, however his heart is in being a writer.

He decided to give it a shot awhile ago and ended up being hired by a magazine to write for them.  They loved his stuff and that lead to him being put in contact with CAA – one of the world’s largest agent/manager companies that represents top talent in the entertainment industry.

Apparently, he had written two screenplays (aka – movie scripts) that these guys really loved and made him an offer to come work for them.

They flew HIM out to Los Angeles and put him up until he finds a place to live.  As of that day we met, he had just signed on with an Agent at CAA.  Amazing! He’s already off to a great start, and has accomplished something most people in LA work towards their whole life and never see come to fruition.

I’m totally impressed, and loving how ambitious this guy is.

We talk about our families and other things we like to do for fun, and then it’s getting late for him because he’s still on CST and hasn’t adjusted.

He pays for the bill and we head towards valet to pick up my/his car.

As I pull up to his hotel to drop him off, he mentions I should come hang out with him some more.  A bit surprised because I thought he was tired, I agree and am happy because I really didn’t want the night to end so soon.

He’s still quite the gentleman and kind of distant physically, so I’m feeling comfortable with that.  Definitely not affectionate.  I get the sense he’d still like to continue the great conversation.

We take the elevators up to his room.

We enter and after I set my purse down on the desk, make my way over to the balcony outside.  He opens the door and we step out onto his balcony, with the most amazing view! We’re right in the middle of the hotel and can view beautiful fountains across the way, and the glorious CAA glass office building right across the street where hours earlier he shook hands with several gentlemen and struck a deal with his future.

We both love nice cars and he points out this ridiculous Range Rover parked outside, below the hotel in valet.  He had told me he heard it earlier and that it must have a custom V12 engine in it – it sounded like a Lamborghini, he said! Crazy.  And definitely a sick car.

We stay out on the balcony for awhile longer.  The conversation is so easy and comfortable.

We come back inside and since there’s no couch, we both make our way to the bed.  I see a magazine he’s picked up that says, “The Top 25 Things to Do in Los Angeles” and instantly get excited.  Since I’ve told him I’d be happy to be his tour guide, I start flipping through it.

He’s laying on the very farrrrr edge of the bed, away from me.  It’s cute.  We’re like in Junior High, afraid to get too close to each other…lol.

He turns on the TV and we continue to talk, watch the show, flip through the magazine, etc.  We’re laughing and flirting a bit, and he’s still asking great questions here and there.

It’s super comfortable.  And the tension just melts away.

All of a sudden we hear a loud car engine start up outside the window.  We BOTH immediately jump off the bed and run to the balcony, saying, “THAT’S IT!!!!”

We laugh as we quickly open the patio door and sure enough, look down to see that new Range Rover with the V12 engine started up in valet.  We watch (and listen) as the guy who owns it drives off down the street below us.  The sound is ridiculous! (and one that I absolutely love)…

We both laugh at the fact that we immediately both jumped up and went to go look at the same time….lol.  Two peas in a pod.

The bed beckons again and we resume our positions, but this time a bit closer.

I’m finding awesome things we can go do in this magazine, and he’s excited about future plans I name off that sound interesting to him.

He’s back to watching TV and at one point I look at him and he’s watching me.

He asks, “If you could be anywhere, where would it be?”

I hesitate for a second, but only because the answer that immediately came to my head sounded so cheesy that I didn’t want to share it. But heck, I’m never one to lie and always believe in being authentic so I say,

“Right here, actually.”

He smiles.  I smile and look back down at my magazine, a little nervous.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “And I only say that because I believe there’s no other place I’m supposed to be other than right here right now.”

He agrees that this feels nice and definitely comfortable, and I wonder if all this time of being single and dating I’ve just been waiting for a guy from Birmingham, Alabama to finally get to Los Angeles…

 

 

Let the Shenanigans Begin. (Again.) An Update For You – Summer 2014

For those of you new to my dating blog, welcome! Start from the first post and work your way back to here.  You’ll be more entertained and filled-in on the cast of characters. :)

To my loyal readers (Hi! I love you guys), three things happened since the last post:

1.  I turned 34.  Yay! Or, not.  But either way, I now need to update my blog’s subtitle to more accurately say, “The journey of a 34-year-old’s dating escapades in Los Angeles.”

2.  After a 2 month break, Shenanigans Mode has been switched to “ON” again.

Not only am I searching for the heart of a really awesome guy, I make sure to KEEP the heart of one already awesome little gentleman, my son.  As a divorced single mom who shares custody with my ex-husband, my time spent with him is super important.  When he’s with me (ie – when school’s out….for example, summer time…) the focus is on him.  Shenanigans get put on hold. 

Now that he’s spending the rest of the summer with his dad, the shenanigans are back and in full swing.
Kudos to the few guys who managed to sneak in a few text messages back and forth, who swiped right with me on Tinder when I had two free minutes here and there, and who were super patient while I told them I wasn’t available for a few months.  More on those new players in a sec.  And, yes, I just said Tinder.  #newdatingapp #shenanigansINDEED

3.  Things happened with The Doc aka “My One-Sided Soulmate.”

In fact, they happened in May, several months ago.  Pretty interesting things and while no titles or labels have been placed on us, there were significant things said between the two of us.  I started blogging about it back then and still have most of the juicy details from a night in May when I ended up bringing a bottle of wine to his place on a Saturday night after my OKCupid date cancelled on me.  Perhaps I’ll share, perhaps I’ll just give you guys an overview in a separate post.  Not sure yet.

Regardless, he’s STILL in the picture.  Not the we-just-bought-a-house-together-in-Belize picture with us swaying in a hammock sipping cocktails with little umbrellas picture, but still.  He’s here.  In fact, we have a date set for this Thursday night, and that’s a helluva lot closer to reality than the Caribbean fantasy.  For those of you who’ve followed our journey, you’re on pins and needles, I know.

So, I’ll wrap this brief ‘lil update up with one of the best lines I’ve heard in awhile.  From a Tinder guy I’ve yet to meet, but who has been patiently waiting and VERY excited to meet me:

(on our first phone call the other day)

Him: “Wow, we’re finally talking! You’re so….elusive.”

Me: “Elusive? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Him: “It’s a GREAT thing! The anticipation of getting to finally talk to you over the last few weeks while your son has been here has only created more excitement for me.”

Me: “Nice! Well, I’m flattered.”

Him: “Yes, it’s true.” (he pauses) “Do you know Cirque Du Soleil?”

Me: “Of course…”

Him: “That’s what it’s like.  Those are great, awesome shows to see.  The anticipation is crazy.  That’s what it’s been like for me, waiting to finally get to talk with you! But moreso…and now we’re here!”

Me: “Wow! Umm….thank you.  Well, here we are!”

We talked for over an hour and I have to say, I’m looking forward to learning more about this guy.  I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

So, the mode is switched back “ON” and away….we….GO!!!!!

 

He Got Shot: My Date in the ER

There’s pros and cons to being single.

One of them is getting hooked up with one, single LA Clippers playoffs game ticket with no boyfriend to have to worry about sitting at home, sulking because his friend wasn’t the one who hooked him up. It was yours and YOU got to go.

I’ve been to several games over the years, from a great friend of mine who I met at Jamie Foxx’s Oscars party several years ago. He’s amazing and always tries to hook me up when he can. Being the sports fan that I am, I absolutely love him for that.

Last Tuesday he texts me and says he has a ticket for me at Will Call for the playoff game that night! I was stoked.

I was at work, and had felt some pretty strong cramps come on, but I wasn’t going to let silly period cramps stop me from going to the game.

I had a few other friends that were at the game that night, too, and was invited out for drinks afterwards.

I was going to tough it out.
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As I got to the Staples Center downtown, my cramps got worse. I was on a mission to find some Ibuprofen and when I entered the Staples Center and asked where I could find some, they sent me to the first aid office. I went in and told them I had some really strong cramps and I was uncomfortable. They gave me stuff to tie me over. And then I went and sat in my seat to enjoy the game.

I also had a pass to go to the suite level that my friend had also hooked me up with, but by the end of the second quarter I was in so much pain still that I was on my phone on WebMD trying to figure out what the heck was going on with me.

The Clippers are playing right in front of my face and I couldn’t even concentrate. The pain was worse than ever. I had to leave.

I went back to the first aid office because I knew something was wrong.

As I walked in, with a pain-stricken face, and me clutching my side, the lady who had helped me an hour or so earlier looked concerned.

She said, “Are you okay?”

I told her the 3 pills of ibuprofen that I had taken earlier didn’t do anything to lighten up my pain, in fact it has gotten even worse.

She made me sit down. They took my vitals and she determined that it was probably something with my kidneys.

The pain got worse as I sat there.

I wanted to just go home and hoped it would go away, but she strongly urged me to go to urgent care or even, the emergency room at the nearest hospital!

Dang, yo. I guess this IS serious.

I was severely pissed off that I was missing out on watching the Clippers play, but the pain was worsening by the minute, so I asked them for directions to the nearest Hospital. They wanted to take me in an ambulance, but I thought to myself, nope! That s*** sounds expensive.  It was nearby, anyways.

I had to go get my car out of valet first, parked a few blocks away from the Staples Center. I knew that if I was at any sort of hospital it wouldn’t be a quick visit.  The last thing I needed was my car locked up or towed somewhere.

As I limped across the street, and picked up my car, and made my way to the local hospital about a mile away, it was getting even worse. Horrible, horrible pain. It felt like someone was stabbing my kidney with a knife and wouldn’t stop.

At that point I knew it was another kidney stone. I had gotten one about 10 years prior. Apparently I’m susceptible to having more, and what beautiful timing to have one happen during a LA Clippers playoff game. So not cool!

I finally made it to the ER, signed their paperwork and was in tears by this point.

As I entered the doors, I saw a world I was completely unfamiliar with.

Keep in mind that I was in downtown Los Angeles, not far from the Financial District, but not also far from Skid Row.

As I took a quick look at people sitting in chairs, I saw crack addicts, pregnant women in wheelchairs, little kids crying, and heard several languages I didn’t understand.

I, on the otherhand, had come straight from the office, and despite me grabbing my lower side, I was looking pretty fancy. My blinged-out necklace, hair and makeup done, designer bag and brand new smartphone stood out like a sore thumb.  A single white woman, looking like a lost little puppy.  Despite the crowd, I felt very alone.

Remember when I talked about the pros and cons of being single? The ticket was a great deal.

Going to the ER by myself, in terrible pain, and not 100% sure what was really, really wrong or how I’d get home? Ah, there’s the con.

However, I didn’t give a flying f*** at the moment because I was in so much pain! This was not the time to care about what others thought of me, nor me of them.

Back to the situation.

The doctors and nurses who saw my face knew I was in pain, too. I was quickly ushered in to have a seat with them, while they asked me questions like,

“Do you feel like you could harm or hurt yourself? Do you feel safe where you live? etc”

I answered their mandatory questions while I struggled to make it through the pain.

They finally administered an IV, gave me some drugs that I popped super quick, and had me lay down on a bed in the ER, which was really just a rolling cot out in the open hallway right across from nurses station where everyone was buzzing about.

It was highly entertaining, considering the circumstances. Scrubs of all colors, everywhere.

The drugs finally kicked in. I had already texted my girl who was at the game, which had just ended. She said she was on the way. Thank God! What would us single women do without our friends? I swear..

As I laid there on my bed, with a needle shoved up my arm, about 5 tubes of blood now missing, and freezing from the cold fluids that were being pumped into my body, I heard the most terrifying call come in over the loud speaker in the ER.

“We have a trauma, level 1. A GSW walk up with wounds to the upper thigh and leg. Again, this is a level 1 trauma.”

Everyone immediately started running and picked up the pace. Rubber gloves were thrown on. Masks were put over faces as people started running down the hall.

A GSW, I questioned? What’s that mean?

Oh shit! They mean gunshot wound!

About 15 or 20 doctors and nurses all started shuffling around me and preparing the room right behind my head from where my bed was.

I freaked.

I don’t do well with blood, and the only kind of gun I want to talk about is a Super Soaker drenching me in the middle of July at some outdoor picnic or something.

This guy was being brought in on a stretcher, and if I even saw one glimpse of him, I knew I would probably pass out from shock.

I cussed out loud, and put my hand over my face. This is not something that I was used to dealing with everyday.

Apparently they brought him in behind me and I didn’t dare look. But all the doctors who weren’t in there at the moment were waiting to go into the room, standing by my bed in the hallway.

I could hear them all talking, and even hear the victim in the room right behind me give them his name and the fact that his pain level with a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10. No kidding.

It was then that I heard something I was never going to expect.

Apparently, this dude was shot in the upper thigh….AND…

…In his scrotum!

DAAAAANG, GINA!

I immediately was grateful about how well my day had been going. No complaints here. I was super good.

An older doctor and a nurse were standing by my bed about 4 feet away. I could hear them talking, and the doctor says,

“Oh, he’ll be alright. Just shove a ping pong ball down there. He’ll be fine!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Was he serious?! This was a very tense situation! I slowly turned my head to look in his direction.

The nurse and the doctor both looked back at me, caught, but with goofy grins plastered to their faces.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you hear that??” He chuckles.

“Yes I did, Doc.”

I quickly realized everything was gonna be ok.

“And let me just tell you…you just reduced my stress level by tons!”

I immediately started cracking up.

Their joking continues, and the nurse chimes in and says,

“Yeah, you know what that’s called? A street vasectomy!”

We all bust up, laughing. This was now comedy hour in hospital.

I suppose in a high stress environment like that of an ER, you must learn how to outsource the stress. I think they had it down.

About 10 minutes later, all the commotion had calmed down.  Cops came in and started talking to the victim. He was stabilized and all the necessary tests had gotten underway.

My drugs were really kicking in now, and I was feeling loopy. The pain had pretty much subsided. Thank, JESUS.

My friend arrived and was ushered back to see me. After I explained to her what had happened to me, I explained to her what the heck was happening in the room behind my head. I also shared with her the jokes and I was laughing all over again. So was she.

We had to stay for a few more hours, to make sure that all the tests they needed were taken care of, and that I would have clear discharge instructions before I left as to what I needed to do if the pain started up again.

After a few selfies on my phone together, and more laughs with the people we’d gotten to know over the past dew hours, I had one last consult with my doctor, signed myself out, and headed home with a prescription for some pretty strong pain meds.

I thought back to the shenanigans of the evening.  All things considered, I was grateful for so many things.

I know my future husband will be the one to carry my ass into the ER next time this happens (if it ever happens again), but as a single woman in her 30s in Los Angeles, I’d still say I felt loved and taken care of, regardless of my lonesome single status.

I’m pretty blessed to have such amazing people in my life. :)

upDATE: Meet “Mr. Marketing”

When you’re single and dating and looking for “the one” there are a lot of highs and low.  A LOT of disappointment (great guys, but not quite right for you…or they’re not quite ready for a relationship…have you been reading my blog? lol)

But then there’s the first dates that you REALLY look forward to.  The ones with high hopes.  The ones where your initial conversation and communication is SO GOOD, that you can’t help but have a hunch it’ll go well.

This was the case with Mr. Marketing.

About a week ago, a very fine looking gentleman wearing a dark navy suit coat with a white, slightly open buttoned-down collared shirt and sparkling brown eyes sent me the following message:

“Good Monday Morning!
I enjoyed your profile & especially the midwest values part +++
I make great conversation (talking not texting) and a excellent LA tour guide as well :)

- (his name)”

Well, HELLO there.  A quick look at his pics and profile – he’s looking good and he seems interesting.

It didn’t take me long to respond and we sent a few messages back and forth before exchanging numbers.

As his last message said, he’d give me a call later that night.

And he did. Wow! Someone who not only knows how to make and keep a plan to communicate, but who also knows how to use a PHONE! #shocked #itsrare

Oh, wait. He’s 43.  A real grown-up, and another huge reason why I love dating men a bit older than me.  I’m a sucker for traditional and old-fashioned.

He calls me and we have the BEST first phone conversation.

I learn that he’s sharp, witty, polite.

He has me laughing out loud a bunch, which is KEY for me.  I need someone who can make me laugh!
He asks great questions and we learn a bit about each other. 

The whole conversation lasted about 45 minutes – a hefty convo! – and he asks if I’d like to go to dinner. 

I’m clearly interested (and giddy) and we make plans for next Saturday at 1pm.

After a few check-ins and texts throughout the week, we touch base Sat AM to make more definite plans.

He agrees to come to Santa Monica where I live and I give him an address near me where we can meet.

First impression as I was walking up to him in the parking lot? OMG he’s a jungle gym and I could climb on that ALLL DAY. His arms are huge. His chest, huge.  I’m done.  Check, please, and the date hasn’t even started.

He gives me a great, big warm hug and the “First Date Nerves” begin.

He takes me to a great lunch spot about a mile away and I can already tell he’s a bit different from other guys.

As we’re led to our table, he pulls my chair out for me to be seated.  TOTAL chivalry!

Opening car doors and doors to buildings is expected, but pulling a chair out for a lady at a table and then gently sliding it under her when she sits down, is rare.  Bonus points!

We’re seated and he takes off his sunglasses for the first time.  Those eyes definitely…sparkle, and I know using that word “sparkle” sounds pretty lame for a dude, but they were really pretty.  Just had to say it.

We have an amazing lunch.

He’s so good at conversation! His questions and stories are fantastic and he’s really making an effort to get to know me better.

He asks me about my son (whom we had talked about on our first phone call), and I start telling him more about all the fun things we did on vacation a week or so ago. 

He interrupts me with a big smile and says, “Awww…there’s that ‘mom glow’ that comes out when someone talks about their baby.  Your whole face just lit up.  It’s very cute.”

I, clearly, can’t see my own face, so I was not only impressed that this man observed that detail about me, but that he made mention to tell me.  He doesn’t have kids of his own, so this made it even more special.  Very sweet. :)

I find out that we have SO MUCH in common.  Check this out:

We both were former iPhone lovers, turned Samsung addicts.

We both worked in the wireless industry back in the 90s.  Him for Verizon, me for US Cellular.

We both own a Marketing company.

We both are tall (him even taller than me).

We both love social media (and he’s super curious about my experience as a Social Media Manager.)

We both love the ocean and scenic trips up the coast.

We’re both great at networking and reading people.

We both have a background working in entertainment.

We both shoot “How To” videos on YouTube.

We both can’t stand little, yippy, uncontrollable dogs that incessantly bark non-stop.

And, this one kills me, we both have almost identical screen names on our OkCupid profiles.  Crazy, right?!

At one point, he says, “Wow, you’re like the same person as me, but in a different body!”

So very true and thank GOD he’s got what he’s working with, cuz I’m A-OK with what’s across the table from me.

We exchange book titles that we’ve loved and ones we think will help the other person.

We share stories about clients and how we both work in Marketing to help businesses with campaigns. 

To put the nail in the we-have-things-in-common coffin, he even shares with me his Twitter strategy and how he’s figured out a way to gain legit followers who are engaged with his tweets in a short period of time.  It’s amazing.

It’s been about an hour so we wrap up lunch.  He pays for the bill (I always offer to help but usually get declined), and then we head on to the next part. 

He wants to be outside and see the ocean so we park back at my place (perks of living by the beach!), then walk the few blocks down to the ocean.  We find a cute, boutique hotel, the Shangri La, that has a great bar inside (and on the rooftop) and have a round of drinks.

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The great conversation and laughs continue.

Here’s a shot I grabbed on the down low for ya.  The flowers were gorgeous:

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We spend a few hours there in total, and ended up on the rooftop, overlooking the sights of the Pacific Ocean.

It’s getting cold so we head back to my place.  The conversation continues on the walk back.

As we head back to my garage and where he was parked, he says, “Well, this was so much fun.  Thank you.”

I thank him for driving to Santa Monica and for the lovely day.

He reaches in to give me a kiss on the cheek and a hug, and it turns into one of those “I don’t want to let go” hugs.  A hug that lasts more than the 2 seconds they’re supposed to last.

He’s such the perfect height (I have to hug UP!) and although it’s an awkward end-of-first-date hug where I wonder if he’ll kiss me or not, I’m not sure what to do but to hold on longer.

So we do.

And now we’re hugging and holding each other and talking about how amazing this feels. I swear it was feeling like an eternity.

Who woulda thought?! A HUG!

I love his arms and his back and his shoulders and his chest that my head is firmly planted against.  And then I remember this same sexy man also pulled out his phone earlier and showed me his Twitter strategy.

Now I’m really done! Check puh-LEASE!

He must have been thinking all of the amazing things in return and the chemistry that wasn’t really evident earlier in the date all of a sudden sprang to life.

The hug turned into a sweet kiss. 

And then a longer kiss…

And then like a lightning bolt had hit us, a full-on high school-style makeout-sesh happened right there in my parking garage.  Sparks freakin’ everywhere.

At one point, I noticed a car pull into the garage and park nearby.  That didn’t stop us. 

An old woman in a walker was helped out of the car, and guided slowly toward the nearby elevator. 

As we continued the aggressive tongue hockey, I could hear people talking in another language.  I can only imagine what they were thinking. 

I did not care, however.  :)

The Abs Return: Mr. Surgeon Part II

In case you missed the introduction to Mr. Ab-City Surgeon, head there now and then come back.

So are you ready?!?! Here’s an update on the handsome washboard-having MD!

Ok, well, you see that last exclamation point I just used in the last sentence? Yeah, that sentence alone was about as exciting as it’ll get here, so don’t expect fireworks or get your hopes up for somethin’ juicy.  Not in this one, at least.  (Not every part of the dating in LA shenanigans contains pizazz.  Sorry.  Which further signifies the sometimes draining, dismal, boring, frustrating part of online dating.  I tend to share the exciting and emotional experiences, but yes, there are the hum-drum, snoozefest moments, too.)

And although I was totally excited to see the blue, flashing “New message from (insert his screen name here)” on OkCupid come flying in tonight, the excitement was about a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10.

Why, you ask?

Mostly because it had been 8 DAYS since we last exchanged messages.  8 DAYS! That’s like an eternity in online dating speak.  Nobody waits that long and still remembers someone they talked to once, over a week ago.

Except me, I guess.  I remembered him.  He was even blog-worthy.  And I can thank my photographic memory, too.  And for his six-pack abs that permanently burned a hole in my single mind’s eye…

Regardless, I was caught up in a TV show when the blue light came blinking and I didn’t want to look toooo eager, so I waited a bit to check his message and respond.

I had previously asked him whether he was from LA.

He started with:

“Hi (insert my name here)!”

An exclamation point! He used my name! That was nice.  Some interest there, obviously.

And then he answers my question.  In two sentences.  And that was it. Nothing more, no further questions.

WHEW! Told ya.  Excitement.  Drama.  Intrigue.

NOT.

I sent him back a generic message, and asked another related question about his experience living in Los Angeles.

So now I’m sitting here thinking:

A.) Hmmm.  He wrote me back, but is he still interested? I mean, he DID write me back.  He DID use an exclamation point.  He DID use my name (and re-look at my profile before responding.) But he was very short in his response, and didn’t ask a single question in return.  Hmmm.

and,

B.) I wonder if Mr. Architect will let me know about confirming plans for this Friday’s date tonight, or tomorrow? Hmmm.

So there ya have it.

My interest has clearly been diverted off of abs and steered into a very different direction.  A taller, older, more established direction.  And yes, I just called Mr. Architect more established than a surgeon, believe it or not.  He’s incredible! (I still owe you more info on Mr. Architect, I know…)

In my first blog about Mr. Surgeon, I had predicted that he’d either never respond, we’d send a few messages back and forth, or we’d get married – with the reality laying somewhere in the middle.

My further prediction now?

I think that was the end.

I’d be very surprised if I hear back from him again.

I would NOT be surprised, however, if I found some more abs on OkCupid.  The amount of beautiful men sporting almost perfect bodies on dating sites in Los Angeles is almost laughable.  They’re everywhere.  Must be something in the water…

Mr. Architect – Will you build me a house?

Apparently Plenty of Fish (POF) doesn’t let you send someone a message if you haven’t at least uploaded one picture of yourself first.  THIS kind of a rule is amazing.   Online dating is so much better when there’s pics.

Yet Mr. Architect found this out the hard way when he came across my profile and immediately wanted to contact me.  (He later tells me how and why he initially reached out.)

Seeing as how he’s a very private guy, he didn’t want to upload any pictures.  However, he saw me and wanted to contact me, so up a picture went.

Operation: Talk To This Girl, began.

First, he added me as a Favorite.

I ignored it.

Big deal.  Tons of people add me as a favorite, but never do anything beyond that.  Plus, your profile’s pretty blank, dude.  Not interested.

A few days pass.  He then sent me a message:

“Good morning…”

That was it.

So, naturally, I ignored it, also.

Not because I’m a snob, but if that’s all you’re going to give me in your first message, I’m not interested.  It’s not my job to create your profile (or conversation) FOR you!

Besides, after the hundredth first-ever message from guys like: “Hi.” “Hey there.” “What’s up?” “Hey beautiful.” “How are you?” ….I want to stab my eye with a pencil. Where’s the originality?!

Points for someone who knows how to communicate! Yes, even online, it’s a stretch nowadays, and someone who can string together more than two original sentences is already sexier than the other “Hi” guy. Ugh.  Kill me.

A few days later, this guy who had actually listed his profession on his very limited profile as “Sales Professional”, decided to give it one more shot.

He finally sends:

“Hello,

You’re gorgeous and I think you’re just stunning! And I’m sure you’re bright and put together as well, and I would love to talk sometime, or if you’re up for it, even meet……I’m a 6’4″ architect ~ funny, bright, cool laid-back guy who is also very fit.

You can check me out via my website (insert his company website here) and or contact/email me on FB.

Cheers,
(insert his first initial, last initial here)”

NOW we’re talking! I loved the extra info. And a girl LOVES to hear she’s stunning and beautiful.

I was listening…

I loved the mini-pitch of who he is (an architect, huh?), and that he gave me extra links to look up (ie – stalk) him online.

Winning!

So, naturally, I stalk.

Before I even consider responding, I jump to his website.

Oh! Very nice! I see pics of his portfolio from some projects he’s worked on and I’m immediately impressed.  I see the same picture he’s uploaded to his POF profile under the “About Us” tab for his Residential Design firm.  A lengthy bio explains not only who he is, but that he specializes in the Classical tradition, with special emphasis on American renaissance period between 1880 – 1930.  He’s LEGIT!

I remember that I had listed “Interior Design” as one of my interests on my POF profile, because this stuff fascinates me.  I’m immediately intrigued.

So then I stalk him on Facebook, and after jumping over to my FB app to type in his name, I find we already have 10 friends in common here in Los Angeles.  Whoa! That’s gotta be a good thing, right?

So I respond to this very patient man’s message and let him know how glad I was that I didn’t have to stab my eye with a pencil (j/k).

I loved his note, told him I was interested and then gave him my digits.

I ended my note with:

“PS – If this works out, will you build me a house?”

Joking, of course, and a few hours later I receive a text from him.  He announces who he is and that yes, if this works out, he’ll build me a house. :)

I smiled, took a quick trip down Fantasy Lane to pick out some fabulous drapes, beautiful paint choices and shiny slabs of granite, and then went about my business.

Next step: a phone call. After that? A date…

Mr. Ab-City Surgeon

I’ve seen a lot of abs in my day.  Guys who are super cut, extremely fit, with tight abdominals that show muscles I didn’t know existed.

For some really crazy reason, I seem to attract a lot of guys in LA who are in tip top shape -personal trainers, actors, models, etc.  And all this, despite the fact that my time spent in the gym is less than a fish spends on land, but hey, they’re not complaining.

I’ve even dated a celebrity personal trainer for about 8 months and we never worked out together ONCE.  He was fine with that and totally into me.

While you have to be attracted to each other, and it’s important to live a healthy lifestyle, newsflash, ladies: curves, confidence and a sense of humor are IN.  :)

Which brings us to Mr. Surgeon.

First of all, I find it interesting that I’ve now met several men in the healthcare field recently.  The Doc, a home care nurse (two dates in now…blog coming perhaps), and now a surgeon.  Strange? Hmm. Maybe.

Regardless, I must let you know about Mr. Surgeon, a new prospect I met this week on OkCupid.  Here’s why he’s blog-worthy.

If you’ve any experience with online dating, you know that it’s a crap shoot.  There are literally millions of singles online.  A good handful of those aren’t real, and the vast majority of them are at least PARTLY fictional.  People tend to lie and/or stretch the truth about their age, height, weight, career, hobbies (would everyone stop tying to pose as a world traveler? Please, Jacque Cousteau, you really don’t travel that much.)

So when I see a profile that has outrageous claims, immaculate pics and a lengthy description filled out for each section of his profile that’s also 99% free of any grammar or writing errors, too?!?!?!, I immediately put up skeptical antennas.

So I come across Mr. Ab-City Surgeon recently, who earned this name due to one of his pics in a Halloween costume.  He’s wearing a bow-tie and cuffs, sunglasses, pants and Calvin Klein underwear, which I can see the tops of because he WASN’T WEARING A SHIRT!

He was, however, wearing his abs, and the definition was pretty ridiculous. No shirt needed.

It immediately reminded me I had to do laundry.

Now, again, I’ve seen plenty of washboards in my day, but this guy was also donning a big, bright smile.  My weakness. I LOVE happy people.

I further flip through his pics and see him (with clothes) in scenes at the beach (ok, well, he did have his shirt off there, too), a few with his gorgeous chocolate labrador, one flexing on some rocks by the ocean (hello, biceps, too), and one of my favorites – him scaling a glacier. Sure, why not.

But that was all just icing on the cake, really.

I skip to read his thoroughly well-thought-out profile and it only gets better.

He’s a surgeon.

And a personal trainer.

And a volunteer.

And wants to start a business.

And a Christian.

And…totally cute, and funny, and charming, and HAS TO BE FAKE.

I mean, come ON!

I’m so intrigued and fascinated that I decide to send him a message.

Typically, I will view a profile and see if the guy checks me out in return (they’re notified).  And if he does, I let him decide to send me a note or not.

However, there are the rare few who inspire me to write something clever and witty, in hopes of sparking a conversation.

That’s it.  Mr. Ab-City Surgeon was getting a message.

Here’s exactly what I wrote him:

“(insert his name he left in his profile)…

Your profile can’t be real….lol!

I’ve seen a lot of online dating profiles and yours is pretty outstanding. It started with your adorable dog, then the Instagram pics that’d make most pro photogs jealous, then the line of “…Although I love doing surgeries…”, followed by the abs and bowtie, glacier climbing and “Christianity and very serious about it.”

I mean, really? You’re a total catch! If you’re trying to destroy that already high bar of expectations women have in LA, you did it with flying colors. Very nicely done, sir. :)

Please tell me you’re single because your awesome life simply doesn’t allow you time to find an awesome woman counterpart (which is prob why you’re here on OKC). THAT I would believe.

Regardless, it’d be great to get to know you if you’re interested.

Cheers and best of luck in your search!”

And off I sent it.  Into the ethers of OkCupid and the Internet to see if the man would:

A.) look at my profile, and
B) respond.

I gave it a 20% chance that he’d respond.  I know this “type.”  He hadn’t been online in a few days, so I knew he wasn’t active.

I was so impressed by this dude that I posted about it on Facebook. (Hello to my friends who I’m connected with there and saw that post!) I asked them when they thought he’d respond.

And one of my girlfriends predicted three days…and wouldn’t ya know it? THREE DAY LATER, he responds to my message!

HOLY EXPLETIVE!

I about lost my mind when I saw the blue, blinking notification come across my phone.  “New Message” on OkCupid from (insert his profile name).

After I got done flipping my s*** for a good two minutes, screaming and freaking out, I regained composure and checked his message.

Much to my surprise, not only did he respond, but it was the beginnings of a legit conversation!

He said:

“LOL! You’re too funny, (insert my name here)…and yes, my profile is very real :-)

I actually joined okc a few years ago after a friend of mine encouraged me to, then I got tired of it so I took a break from it for a while. My work/projects have definitely contributed to my single status but mostly I just haven’t quite crossed paths with the “right one” yet. I’d be lying though if I said that I didn’t appreciate having my “Single” card. Ha! How long have you been in LA?

- C”

And there ya have it.

I responded accordingly, stating that I was glad to know I made him laugh….and that he’s the real deal.  I replied with a few other questions and sent it off.

So now we wait, some more.

Either he’ll never respond again, he’ll respond with a few more questions and eventually want my number to talk and/or meet up, or we’ll get married.

Statistics say it’ll land somewhere in the middle and I’m going in with zero expectations, as I do with every new introduction I make.

I’ll be sure to keep you posted on this one.

That’d be hilarious if he was a heart surgeon.

The shenanigans continue…

My Biggest Fear While I’m Dating…

 

 

None of my dates can find out about this blog!

As an owner of a dating blog that details my shenanigans and escapades, this is my biggest fear.  Is that dumb? :)

So, just in case – can you help me come up with some clever responses when someone springs this on me mid-dinner?  I’m listening! Comment below. Thank you…lol.me, on a date....busted

The cure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sounds like I need a good, hard cry during a nice, long swim.

 

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