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…

 

 

UpDATE: Meet Mr. Birmingham – Part One

Okcupid has been working overtime for me lately.

After a pretty decent break of being on it (and instead, focusing on Tinder’s shenanigans) I logged back in about two weeks ago to peep the scene and check a few messages.

I noticed a guy from Alabama had viewed my profile and the bow tie he was wearing in his profile pic was enough to get me to click through to check out his whole profile.

He has style. Nice.

The fascination had just begun.

The first line of his bio states that he’s a “confident, established, successful gentleman.”

Now that’s all relative, as I’ve learned through previous situations, but I’m curious to learn more, and am definitely looking for someone who’s more established than not.

I skim his profile and it leaves other  nuggets in there for me that I love, like that he’s a “relationship guy…who prefers to only date one woman at a time ..sorry if that offends anyone….”

Well, what the what?!

Offended?!

No, charmed.  More guys in LA need to adopt this concept.

Continue.

He’s an “engineer by trade, but a writer by heart.”

We’re already similar in that we’re both 50/50 right-brain/left-brain.  Nice!

Then it says he’s in the process of relocating to LA.

I wonder if he’s been here already and that this profile is old, but I send him a message saying. ..

“I’m the best tour guide you could ask for in LA, if you’re looking for one!”

He responds back,

“I was hoping you’d say that…!”

We exchange a few messages back and forth.  He says he’s arriving to LA on Thursday and that I should contact him then.

We’re both excited to meet each other!

The days go by and we text and play phone tag until we finally have a chance to connect on Sunday.  He’d been here a few days already.

I reach him on the phone while driving to my gf ‘s birthday party.

He totally has an accent! A true Southern Gent, born and raised in Alabama. Refined, and I love it.

We talk about things we like and don’t like and we learn we have a bunch of things in common already. Hmmm, interesting!

I don’t really have any friends from the South here in LA, so this is different for me. All I know is that everyone there is friendly, polite, takes their time and loves good food. Kinda like the Midwest where I’m from, I guess. :) Fun!

We’re both available later that evening and I make plans to pick him up.  He’s staying at the Hyatt Regency until he buys a house, and won’t get his two cars (yes, TWO cars) delivered here until Monday, so I arrive.

I call him and he says he’s walking out.

Soon I see a man in a light-colored, striped seersucker suit on the phone, walking towards me.

Yes, folks. Seersucker.  The South is alive and well.

We hang up and I get out to hug him hello. He cleans up nicely, and can totally pull it off. I learn he’s always styling.

We get in my car and he’s kinda quiet, and chuckling.

I ask him what’s up. He says,

“We drive the same car.”

“What?!”

Haha…yes. Apparently we have matching BMWs, except his is white and mine is black.

“I’m walking up to your car thinking,  ‘This woman is not driving my car…’lol….”

We add this to our already long list of things we have in common. :)

We take a 4 minute ride over to Beverly Hills and to one of my favorite spots for great first date drinks, The Peninsula. I already knew he’d love the vibe.

We pull up to valet, amongst several Bentleys, Rolls Royces, an Audi R8, and more. I love this place.

the peninsula beverly hills

We head to the very fancy lounge and sat down to talk and have some wine.

He’s very calm. Confident.  Refined.

And totally wearing seersucker!

I’m quite intrigued by this man, and I know the evening is about to get interesting.  This is not an ordinary guy…

To be continued….

I Am Absolutely Certain, Without a Doubt, That “The Doc” Loves Me! I Think…

(Head-up….this was from a draft I had written a long time ago but never published.  The below story happened in MAY! Much has happened with The Doc and I since, but I had to get you caught up on a very important evening…)

Sigh.

I saw The Doc again.

I debated writing this blog because whatever unfolds from our interactions is always SO REAL and SO DEEP that it’s almost too hard to write about. But nonetheless…

It’d been a few months since we last saw each other.  That was after I politely told him to stop contacting me.  His random messages of “What’s up babe?” on any given Wednesday but with no follow through or plans to see me was too much for me to handle, so I thought “Outta sight, outta mind” should do the trick.  I needed to move on.  He had politely agreed, and didn’t argue.

For two months straight I tried my best to forget about him.

I failed miserably.

The Doc is EVERYWHERE and never far from my mind, as hard as I try:

I drive past a hospital or pharmacy – I think of him.

I hear a reference to Belize – I think of him.

Someone plays a reggae song – I think of him.

I travel to Terranea Resort – I think of him.

I meet someone from USC – I think of him.

I’m breathing – I think of him.

See? Bad.  I’d want to reach out but never did.

But then I got this freaking kidney stone thing that landed me in the ER and the whole fiasco really, really made me miss him.  And it gave me a really, really good reason to reach out to him.

So, naturally, I did.

I emailed him, gave him a quick run down of what landed me in the hospital, and told him I’d love his feedback and opinion on whether or not I should take these two prescriptions they gave me. (I hate taking pills, if I can help it.)

He emailed back right away and said he was leaving for the airport for a meeting but that he’d call me when he got back later that night.

He did call.

He was meeting his boys to play basketball so he only had a few minutes, but he gave me great feedback and said we’d catch up more later.

A few text convos and a week or so later happened.

Fast forward…

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to a second date I had planned with Mr. Marketing.  As much as The Doc is…well, my unavailable soulmate in scrubs, I am also a very realistic person and am seeing and meeting other great guys.

Unfortunately, Mr. Marketing cancelled our plans due to family stuff that afternoon. Jerk! Dang it!

I was bummed.  Kinda sad, actually.  And I hate getting cancelled on last minute.

Actually, I’m being dramatic.  For two seconds I was sad.

I read his cancellation text and then immediately text The Doc.

“Happy Saturday!”

He responds right back.

“Happy Saturday to you, too, sexy lady.  What’s up on your side?”

Success.

I already knew two things:

1. He wanted to see me.

2.  He wasn’t busy that night.

Sure enough, I was right.  I really know this man.

Later that night, I brought myself and a tasty 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon over to his place.

cabernet-sauvignon-2009

I pull into his garage and recall how perfect our cars fit in there next to each other.  He’s in there doing laundry, which I can say is probably even MORE perfect of a scenario.

He gives me a huge, big hug and kiss on the neck.  His smile is enormous.  I’m sure mine’s bigger.  I’m SO excited to see him.

We make our way upstairs and he breaks open the wine.

The mood is light, flirtacious, fun.  It’s us.  It’s always exciting and we both haven’t stopped smiling or laughing for a good 10 minutes now.

He asks me what happened to my plans that night and I tell him (vaguely) that “…people cancelled and wanted to re-schedule…”

“People?” he asks, coyly, as he smiles a knowing smile.

“Ok,” I say. “One person in particular.”

I shake my head, he smiles, and we both know there are others involved here but that it was working out for the better with the two of us right in this moment.

I’ve always loved our honesty.

We catch up.  He tells me I look good, despite the kidney stone nonsense, and I get scolded for not drinking enough water.  He’s always giving me loving medical advice.

He tells me his cousin says hi.
I want to tell him to give his cousin my number so i can tell him to knock some sense into The Doc and wake up and smell the coffee here and realize I’m the perfect woman for him, but I don’t.  I just smile and think it’s special he mentioned that.

And then he tells me that he’s looking to buy another house in Belize.

“What?!?!” I shrieked.

To catch you up on something – he was against another bidder on a property there about 6 months ago, but he lost.  When he called me to tell me that he didn’t get it, I told him he lost that house because of fate.  I wasn’t in on it with him, and that we should buy our dream house there together. I was half-serious, and I’m sure he thought it was cute.

I told him I didn’t want to hear about this new one.

“Why not?” he asks.  “Because you’re not in on it with me?” He smiles.

Ah ha! He remembered.

Honestly, I can see this picture of us living in paradise painted so clearly in my head that I don’t want to hear about it unless it’s going to happen. So I ask him one question:

“You can tell me about it but ONLY if the answer to this question is “yes”…

“Ok, shoot,” he says.

“Will I ever see this house with my own eyes?”

And without missing a beat, he says, “Sure! Why not?”

I get all serious and say, “Yeah, ok. Whatever.  I don’t invite myself to places that I’m not wanted…”

He corrects me.  He’s serious, too.  “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

We’ll see.

Anyways, he tells me about this amaaazing property on the tropical blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.  I picture him, me and a hammock and I go into dreamland again.  This fairy tale is amazing, isn’t it?

Back to reality…

We talk for another hour cuddled up on the love seat, have the TV on in the background, laugh, catch up on work and careers, and finish the bottle of wine.

It’s getting late now.  Time to go to sleep.

We head upstairs, a now familiar trek. I mean, we’ve known each other for awhile now.

Sorry to let down you about any juicy, racy, sexy details, but the rest of the night is literally a PG situation – we sleep/cuddle and nothing else.  About 90% of the night he’s spooning me.  He’s even affectionate in his sleep! Perfection.

I wake up early in the AM to the sound of my phone buzzing.  It’s a new message on OkCupid.

The Doc is turned over and snoring.

I check it, cuz, hey why not.

Side note: At this point, for those of you following this never-ending love story of The Doc and I who are all like, “What the heck is she doing?? Why’s she holding out for this dude? He’s clearly not into her the same way…” Well, just hold it one hot second.

I’m not in my 20s anymore.  I’ve worked in the dating and relationship space for years and know many former clients or friends who are relationship experts, authors, speakers, therapists and more.  I’ve learned a ton and feel pretty healthy in my choices.

Besides, if I WAS all into him (and only into him) I wouldn’t have been excited to check my dating app notifications while snuggled under his 1200 thread-count sheets while he slept beside me.  :) I’m optimistic, yet realistic.  Big difference.

I check the message.  It’s from a new guy.  Cool.

I also check my texts.  More late night messages from others who are pursuing me.  Cool, but I don’t respond.

The Doc is still sleeping but I do kinda have a guilty conscience so I put my phone back on the bedside table.  They all can wait.

I’m fully awake now and it’s about 8am on a Sunday.  No going back to sleep for me, so I lay there and look around.  His master bedroom suite is so familiar to me and I’m always amazed at how neat and orderly it is.

The pile of books on his bedside table include “The 5 Love Languages” and “What On Earth Am I Here For?” by Rick Warren.

I know what he’s here for!!!!

Unbeknownst to him, the answer is clearly for him to find me, fall in love and live happily ever after.

I’m WISHING that it said that on page 42 or something and all he’d have to do is stumble across it eventually.

But it doesn’t, so I’m left to let the Big Man Upstairs handle the timing or outcome on this one.

An hour or so passes by and FINALLY he stirs awake.

He leans over and kisses me gently on my head.

“Good morning.”

I smile.

I tell him “Hi…” and that I should get going soon.

Honestly, I have no plans, but never want to overstay my welcome, and also I recall him saying he had plans to meet his mom for lunch. #perfectson

But I did not expect what would happen next to happen.

For the next THREE HOURS, we laid in bed and talked.
(TALKED, people! I swear to goodness.)

He didn’t want me going anywhere.  I was officially trapped on this cloud.

But seriously, the stuff we talked about was deep.  It was real.

Real deep.

It didn’t start off that way.  In fact, it was our usual catching up conversations.

Conversations that couples have on lazy Sunday mornings who are conquering life together, as a team.

He caught me up on his work, his less-than-amazing boss, his recent accomplishments and his busy travel schedule lately.  Meetings, conferences, speaking engagements. He’s killing it out there.

I’m so proud of this guy.  He’s a star at his company and is looked to for knowledge and expertise that guys 20 years older don’t have.  His intelligence, drive and ambition is one of the most sexy things about him to me.

The hours tick by and we’re still cuddling and talking in bed.

We’re both in the comfortable space we’ve become accustomed to.  He stops for a moment, kissses my forehead and says..

“Hey.  Don’t ever stop talking to me like you did again, ok?”

He’s kinda sad, definitely serious.

The Doc has actually communicated something that he wants from me.  Fascinating.

I feel bad now that I did spend the last few months ignoring him and cutting off all communication.  I guess the guy noticed.

I agree and tell him I’m sorry and then tell him that as hard as I FRICKIN’ TRIED, I couldn’t stop thinking about him during that time anyways.  My plan had backfired.

Then The Doc tells me I’m never far from his mind.  He’s always thinking of me and praying for me and wishing me the best.  Always.

Well, dangnabit.  I had no idea.

We end up basically professing love for each other.

Not the “Let’s-get-married-tomorrow” kind of love, but the “We-really-care-about-the-lives-of-each-other-here” kind of love.  It’s one I’ve not ever experienced.

And yes, it’s not the one I’m exactly looking for, either.

I do feel amazing, however, and protected and special, and….loved, in this moment.  I try to hold onto it for as long as possible, knowing that as soon as I get up out from under the crisp white down comforter we share, it’ll be back to reality.

And back to my OkCupid and Tinder messages.

Strangely enough, I’ve come to appreciate both situations.

We spend a bit more time together in bed (still only a PG situation) and then it’s time for me to leave.

As I head to my car in his garage, we’re both smiling.  He kisses me one last time, gives me another big hug and I’m on my way.

I drive all the way home with a smile….and a peace in my heart.

 

Tinder: Crash and Burn 101

Tinder

In case you either live under a rock or are married (both are perfectly fine), there’s this new dating app called, Tinder.  It runs strictly on your smartphone.

I think they called it “Tinder” because the idea is to set your love life up in flames as quickly as possible.

Let me explain.

Known as the “hook up” site and a reputation for quick, meaningless connections within a few miles of where you’re currently located, Tinder requires less effort than blinking your eyes and about 2 brain cells to determine whether the “match” displayed on your screen is someone you want to like or not.

If you like their pic and have read their short bio (if they’ve even written one), you take your thumb and swipe right on their pic to let them know you’re interested. (For the uber curious, you can click to see up to 5 total pics…if they’ve actually uploaded them.)

If they’ve already done that same “swipe right” process after seeing your profile, BADABOOM! You’re a MATCH! Cupid can go back to sleep now and your hot and heavy adventure can begin.

Given my extensive knowledge and current practice using other dating apps, I’d say this one’s at the bottom of the spectrum in terms of finding someone amazing, who’s also truly looking for a long-term relationship.

Except for this guy I met on Tinder last Friday who I’ll probably marry….

But more on that later. :)

upDATE: Mr. Can I Get a Vowel

After 7 months of not seeing each other, I agreed to finally see Mr. Can I Get a Vowel again.

The fact that his name is literally missing a vowel and is spelled incorrectly (yet….not…cuz that’s how his mama spelled it) still bugs me.  However, we did have some crazy chemistry and I remember both dates that we had last year like they were yesterday.  Might as well, right? He told me he’s completely single and still wondering what I’m up to.

We met at a place in Venice for drinks.

As I began to walk in to meet him, I realized that he hadn’t seen me (or even a pic of me) with my new haircut.  I’ve been told I look pretty different now, and I agree.

Oh, great.

I immediately felt the anxiety of the “First Date Nerves” all over again.  That beginning part where you’re meeting someone in person after communicating mostly via text or message or phone.

Sure enough, I’m walking towards who I think is him, sitting at a table towards the back.  The place is packed.

The guy turns and looks at me walking towards him across the room.  He doesn’t respond.

Oh, CRAP! He totally doesn’t recognize me! Wait.  Is that even HIM???

I literally keep walking towards this guy, getting closer and closer.  I’ve committed to it.

Still NO RESPONSE. Not a smile, but a look of confusion, perhaps?

I am now literally AT the table and I’m 98% sure it’s him but need him to say something so I can recognize his voice.  Or a smile, or something! ANYTHING!

I decide that it’s him and pull up a chair next to him and say, “Hi! Yeah, it’s me.  I cut my hair….”

The look of wonder starts to fade and he smiles a faint smile.

He totally didn’t recognize me!

Ha!

Awkward.

He looks at my hair, me up and down, back at my hair.  It’s funny and random.  He says he likes it, he just didn’t recognize me.

We begin to catch up and our nerves dissipate.

He’s still super attractive and I love his style and designer jeans.  The man can dress.

He asked me what happened to the guy I last told him I was seeing (umm…that would be The Doc, last year).  He has a great memory.

I tell him that that guy was great, but that he didn’t want a longterm, serious relationship with me.

He says, “Yeah, welcome to my world.  That’s woman’s problem in LA.”

Umm, excuuuuuze me?! I thought that was just MY challenge!

Apparently he’d been meeting other people off of Plenty of Fish who were a bit bat*** crazy.  He says that most women here don’t know what they want.

I love hearing the men’s perspective on dating.  It’s usually a topic on 80% of dates I go on.

He’s an affectionate guy and we’re flirting.  He puts his hand on my knee as we watch the NBA game that’s on and talk.

After he buys us a round or two of drinks, we close out our tab.

Since we’re a block away from the ocean, we head to his car to put our stuff away.

I recognize the same black BMW he had last year, and it felt nice to see something “familiar” when I haven’t talked to him in so long.  Our connection is definitely there and I feel very comfortable with him.  He has a very quiet, calming presence.

He grabs a blanket out of the trunk and we walk around the pier and almost empty boardwalk of Venice.

After about an hour of hearing waves crash on the beach, we parted ways with him promising me that I won’t wait another 7 months to see him again.

I made the promise, and I’m sure it won’t be 7 months, although I’m not exactly sure why or when we’d see each other again.

As much as I enjoy our connection on the chemistry side of things, he’s lacking in a few other areas that are very important to me.  Ambition and career track.  Plus, he may be moving to Puerto Rico for 4 months to go work for his brother who’s a professional basketball player (and former LA Clippers player).

Nothing longterm is really there, but we’re still in communication and I won’t blow him off or lose his number anytime soon.

(Fun Fact: As I started to type this blog about him, I remembered on our date that he said his birthday was yesterday! And he turned 40! That was a big deal! OOPS! I feel like a total jerk.

I just text him “Happy Birthday” wishes and hope he had a good weekend and we’ve been texting back and forth.

Thank God I’m blogging! I probably wouldn’t have remembered til sometime next week when it randomly hit me! Thanks, Single Girl Shenanigans.  See – I blog for you guys, but I also blog for me.  It helps me remember things.) :)

False Starts & Orgasms – Part I

Attention faithful followers of my shameless shenanigans!

NEW GUY ALERT!

Yes, folks.  There’s someone new on the scene and he’s worth blogging about.  The online dating gods have conspired yet again to bring me a “match.” Well, that happens all the time, actually.  But we spent almost all of our time together this last weekend, so it’s definitely more than an algorithm’s suggestion at this point. Read on.

About a month ago:

1. He sends me a message on OkCupid (remember I deleted my Plenty of Fish account awhile back)

2. I check him out, think he’s cute and interesting and funny, so I respond.

3.  We go back and forth for the next week or so.

4.  We finally exchange numbers.

5.  We text.

6.  I leave for a trip out of state a few days later.  I’m gone for a week.

7.  I return and we make plans to meet.

8.  We have a few conversations via phone.  Yes, folks.  A real conversation on the telephone.  Rare.  I treasure it.

9.  We make plans to meet on a Saturday night.

10.  But THEN….those plans fall through.   He basically flakes on me.  I’m mad/disappointed, yet honestly was too tired to go out that night anyways.

11.  He KNOWS I’m mad/disappointed and profusely calls/texts me the next day apologizing.  He had a misunderstanding of the plans.

12.  He’s cute and funny and he’s APOLOGIZING so I forgive him.

13.  After reading him the polite version of the riot act about how my weekend time is precious and usually pretty scheduled in advance and how I LOVE when a man makes a plan (ie – “How about we meet for coffee on Saturday at 3pm?” instead of “Well maybe we can cross paths on Saturday night…”), and also how 3 other guys contacted me the night we were supposed to go out (FUN FACT: including Mr. Too-Young-Tyson-Beckford!… who I haven’t heard from since I turned him and his hot, gorgeous, skinny jeans-loving self down), and NOW he understands.  He feels bad.  And he realizes he needs to “step his game up” because I’m clearly a “popular woman…” Um, yes. Whatever the case, communication is all I ask for.  Still cute.

There’s the backstory.

Here’s the rest:

Armed with his new knowledge about how I roll (I love a solid PLAN and all…), he calls to ask me out to dinner, Saturday night.  Reservations are at 7:30pm and we’ll have dinner and drinks at this cool place he’s been to before.  RESERVATIONS!

Now, let me share something.

I feel this is way too much for a first date. What if I don’t like him? Or, worse….what if he doesn’t like ME?! That makes for a very awkward dinner.

I much prefer to meet first for a brief cup ‘o joe and let a coffee date organically turn into something more, but apparently this guy wants to do things a bit differently.

Ok, fine.  I just roll with it.  Dinner is going to be at least $125, if not more, but hey, his call.  He’s clearly listening to how I prefer things now and brushed off my suggestions for something simple.  I can definitely appreciate his extra effort.

We have plans to meet at Bar Pinxto, very close to where I live, but a place I’d never been to.  He gets excited when I tell him it’s something new for me to discover.  It’s a super cute, rustic but fancy Spanish tapas bar.  I’m up for it and feeling adventurous.

I’m wearing a purple-blue dress and tall, black boots.  It’s dressy for Santa Monica, yet it’s not.  I love the diversity here.

I’m standing outside the restaurant and then see him walking up towards me.  He’s CUTE! Even cuter in person.  He’s wearing jeans, a collared shirt and a brown leather type of jacket over it.  Stylish.

He hugs me hello and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  Very sweet.

We head inside and are seated.

He’s nervous. I’m nervous.  We make awkward small talk as we look at the wine menu we’ve just been handed.

He’s smiling.  I’m smiling.  This is going to be interesting.

Him: “Do you see anything you like?”

Me: (a lover of wine, but definitely NOT a wino) “Ummm….I’m not picky.  Do you have a preference?”

Him: “Oh, yes. I love Spanish wines.”

I recall we’re at a Spanish tapas place.  There is a large assortment of bottles of wine all around us on display.

I’m quickly sold on the fact that this guy clearly has some culture and cuisine skillz.  YES.

He suggests I try a favorite wine of his and we talk about our day.

He works for Warner Bros and actually had to push back our reservations by a half hour because he was stuck at work on a Saturday getting something ready for a film they’re about to release.  I’m glad to learn he’s a career-guy!

He’s from NYC and was transferred out here to Los Angeles about a year ago for work.

He’s good at his job, yet also has a full-on business plan for what he wants to do with his own company he’s about to launch.

The waitress asks to take our order and I tell him I don’t understand anything on the menu (more or less…it’s all in Spanish) so he politely orders for the both of us.  A few small plates here and there.

The food is amazing!

Mostly things I’ve never heard of or experienced, and I’m loving the adventure as much as he’s loving that he’s the one who gets to watch me experience it for the first time.

The special of the night has squid ink in it and I learn he MUST order this dish.

Like I said.  Adventurous.  That sounds nasty, right?!?!

Well, this man hadn’t led me astray all night and sure enough, it was delicious.

Throughout the next 2 1/2 hours, we dine and talk and bond over squid ink and calamari.

I learn about his family and how he’s very close with his mom, dad and three younger sisters all back on the East Coast.

He also has a 5-year-old daughter and the bi-coastal parenting adjustment has been hard for him.  I can relate and I give him tips about his plans to take her to Disneyland when she’s ready to come visit pretty soon.

He asks me questions about what I do and he’s fascinated.

I share more about who I am and a bit on my work, but mostly he’s a chatterbox telling me stories about living and growing up in New York City and his transition to living here on the West Coast now.

We’re having a GREAT time!

We wrap up dinner and then decide to take a stroll down Ocean Avenue.

We stop to look inside the windows of an art gallery and we both identify our favorite pieces.  He tells me he just picked up some new canvases at Michael’s the other day, and I’m glad to find we also have this hobby in common.  I’d love a “paint date” in the future. :)

He walks me back to my car and as we’re standing in the parking lot, he begins to play the “I don’t want to leave but I’m not sure if I should kiss you or just keep talking to you” game.

It’s cute.

He’s been kinda stand-offish all night physically, yet definitely connected.

So it’s getting late and I say I’m going to head home.  We hug and I thank him for an awesome night, with big kudos on picking out a great restaurant.

He’s glad I enjoyed the evening – he’s had just as good of a time as well.

I get in my car and he heads off to his.

On the way home, I realize we just spent about 3 hours together.  Not bad for a first date! All smiles.

I also realize that you’ve read this whole blog and there has been NO mention of orgasms.  Sorry.

That happens on the next date, so I’ll be calling this one Part I.

Stay tuned…

 

 

UpDATE: The Architect

I learned so much this weekend.

First, I learned that as much as The Architect intrigues me, it’s not a match.

Without divulging too much detail about his personal life and continuous drama with the mother of his two children, I’ll say this much:

We all have baggage.  We just have to decide how much strength we have to carry a heavy (or lighter) load.  And when it comes to a very fresh, very new potential relationship, this includes you and how much of their baggage you choose to deal with alongside them.  Especially when you’re close enough to be trusted with and learn all of the craziness happening from a pretty early start.

There’s a LOT.

Long story short, the level of his “baby mama drama” is like an 11 on the 10-point scale.  And even though she’s this famous blonde Hollywood-type you’ve most likely seen on a TV show (a Dr. who talks about relationships of all things!), according to The Architect she’s bat-poop cray cray.  A fraud and total hypocrite who is somehow “obsessed” with Mr. Architect, as he says.  The stories he shares with me about her are like nothing I’ve heard and it makes me appreciate the people in my life who are SANE.

They’ve not been together for over 6 years but as a very active dad in his two daughter’s lives, it’s inevitable and almost unavoidable drama for him on a daily basis.

I learn more and more during our date this weekend:

After not seeing each other for a month or so, The Architect invites me out for brunch.

I was curious to see how he was doing (new developments for him on the work side of things) and we do have a special connection.

We spent a few hours in the warm, sunny SoCal city of Manhattan Beach.  After we ate at Ocean View Cafe, we walked down to the ocean.

He shared with me the latest gripes and groans about everything going on (his ex, his latest client who won’t pay his full rate, etc) and I found myself feeling sad.

Sad for him because it’s never any fun when one parent uses the kids to manipulate the other parent.  Sad for him because I know he loves his daughters and his ex puts so much unnecessary strain on those relationships, and after 16 years of it, he’s TIRED.  And finally, sad for him because the majority of what he talks about now is almost all negative.

I’m a glass-half full type of woman and maybe when I’m 56 I’ll be a Negative Nancy, too, but I certainly will do everything in my power to NOT be!

In addition, I can’t STAND people who are negative.  Or not just negative, but who only talk about the bad things in life.   He might speak about actual facts of a situation that he can’t do anything about, but there’s always light to find in a situation, too.

I much prefer to keep things positive, happy, light-hearted and fun.

Much of what he talks about is just repetitive, too, and I’m not a fan of a broken record.

I AM a fan, however, of acknowledging the bad stuff but then changing things up and to start focusing on the positives we see right in front of us.

Fast forward…

He knows I have plans later in the day (another date!…although I didn’t share that), so we head back. I drop him off.  We hug and he gives me a kiss goodbye.

It didn’t feel “final” or anything, but in my heart he’s definitely moved into The Friend Zone.

Which, of course, SUCKS because now instead of getting it for free, I’ll probably have to pay him to build me that dream house, in which I won’t be living in with him.  Sigh.

Frustration, an Ex and the Deleting of my Plenty of Fish Account

Valentine’s Day is this Friday.

As of today (Monday morning), I have no plans with anyone special and I’m doing my best to not flip my lid.

Not that I think the world will end if no one asks me on a date for Valentine’s Day, but with all of the recent shenanigans activity you would think SOMEONE would make a move. But, no.  Nothing yet.

Let me update you.

Since my last blog, there’s been MUCH going on.  With several people.

I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time with Mr. Architect lately, and also saw The Doc.

Both are special men who I have a unique connection with, especially The Doc, for those of you who’ve been reading our 8-month-long journey.

Also, last night a guy I used to date briefly a few years back got together with me and told me that his world stops and time stands still whenever he sees me, and that he’s never wanted to be with anyone other than me and how special and connected he feels with me. “If you’re ready for a relationship, I’m sure you’ll pick me.”

Ummm, no.

You’re not the one, buddy.  We had our moments, but that window has closed.  Thanks for pouring your heart out to me, but I can’t help if I know in my heart you’re not the one, and now I’m even MORE frustrated because you’re a nice guy offering me what I want, but I have no feelings for you.

So, hence my frustration because no one seems to be willing to make any REAL moves here.  Well, correction – the guys I WANT to make moves, aren’t.

Or my Prince Charming just hasn’t arrived yet and I’m still being taught how to be patient.

Patience, my ass.  Ain’t nobody got time for that!

(Ok, that was probably the most ironic statement of all time.  So, just kidding.)

So, on Saturday morning, I had logged on to my Plenty Of Fish account.

POF shows you who’s “online” of the guys you’ve been talking to, messaging, or in some cases people you’ve met in real life from POF who still have an active account.

I log in to check my messages and see what’s going on.  It’s kinda become as routine as checking emails.

Who do I see “online?”

Mr. Architect.

Again.

I’ve now seen him “online” every day for the past two weeks or so and it’s obvious he’s still using the site.  In fact, there have been a few times where we’ve both just seen each other, and 20 minutes later are both logged into “Plenty of Fish.” That can’t be good, right?

So I see him logged in on Saturday.

That’s fine.  We’re not married, but for some reason this really starts to bother me.

His communication with me lately is still pretty good, we’ve seen each other a lot, we text and email all the time and he’s “serious about this” with me, so it’s always weird to see someone say and do these things yet continue to log back into the dating site that brought you two together in the first place.

I can’t stand it any longer.  I actually thought Mr. Architect and I were heading down the path of only being interested in each other (he even has told me that his intuition told him I was “the one” when he first saw my profile online, among other serious conversations we’ve had about what we’re both looking for, etc).

Yeah, so why be online so much?

So I delete my Plenty Of Fish account.

I need a break.

Too much to figure out, lately, and I need answers.

Ok, I don’t need answers, I’d just really like to know what’s going on inside the heads of a few people.

I feel more comfortable with stability here, and guessing what’s going to happen, or waiting to see what’ll develop gets old real fast.

Deleting my POF account helped relieve some of that stress.  I’ll no longer have to know if this dude is online talking to plenty of other fish in the sea everytime I log in!

(Side note: I DELETED MY POF ACCOUNT! Did you read that part?! Not sure if you realize, but for me, that’s like the equivalent of a smoker giving up cigarettes.  Oh wait.  I just made the analogy of dating to quitting an addicting, disgusting disease that makes you smell nasty and could eventually kill you at some point.  Hmmm….gulp.)

So there ya have it.

A brief update on the love life.

(Second side note: I did talk to my sister who lives in Nebraska for quite awhile this weekend, too.  She’s married and has been off the market for awhile now.  She asked why it was so tough to date in LA, and I’ve broken it down to two reasons, but that’s best left for another blog.)

Thanks for reading, my friends.

Love and hearts and roses and stuff…to you all.  If I don’t have a Valentine by Friday, I’ll be sure to choose you guys instead, deal? :)

Mr. Architect: An UpDATE for Date #1 – When we first met

Bringing you up to speed on Mr. Architect, my future (maybe?) house builder “if this works out.”

It all started when he asked me to meet for a late Saturday lunch. We met at Casa del Mar, a swanky hotel about 5 minutes from me, in Santa Monica.  This is my favorite place to meet to watch the sunset.  There are HUGE windows and the hotel is right on the ocean. It’s gorgeous.

We met up and to the right, in the library part of the elegant lobby.

We met up and to the left, in the library part of the elegant lobby.

I’m nervous to meet him, but look reallly cute.  I was wearing a dress, high heels and my fab new spray tan.  (Btw, don’t judge the paint.  Everyone looks better bronzed, and my white butt needed some color! :) I felt very Californian.)

I had plans to meet my girls for brunch right before (just down the street, at another fabulous hotel, Loews), and then would head over afterwards to meet him.

He had texted me to meet him “in the upper bar, at the library.” Extra points already for giving me specifics. I love that, and it’s a big hotel.

I walk in and see him across the way.  He stands up from his chair, smiles, I wave and cross over to him.

He then reaches out his hand and helps me up the 3 steps to where he was sitting.  Well, folks, we have a gentleman on our hands! I appreciate the assistance as I’m wearing 4 inch heels.

He immediately makes a comment about how great I look and I’m pleasantly surprised to see him look even better in person.

He’s wearing some sort of golf shorts, a polo with its collar popped, underneath a light blue sweater – its collar also popped. Ah, yes, that man has style.  He’s an architect, after all.

He’s also wearing a fitted baseball hat.

Now, I’m not sure where or how I grew to LOVE a man in a fitted hat, but there’s something about that look that drives me crazy! Maybe it’s from my appreciation/fascination with athletes.  They can really pull that off.

I sit down at the couch next to his chair, in this small area with a few other comfy chairs and a flat screen TV on the wall.  It’s warm and sunny and a perfect Saturday afternoon.

We begin to chat.

The conversation is going great! He’s telling me about his family, growing up in SoCal, a bit about his work, etc.  I’m telling him similar things.  There’s a lot of smiling and laughs.  My cheeks hurt.

I ask him why he wanted to contact me and what he liked about me/my profile.  I’m always curious.

He tells me he likes that I’m smart, “put together,” and beautiful.  It’s really cute, because he’s trying to be super polite and wants to elaborate on that one more, and I can tell he’s looking for the right words.  Words that won’t offend me, but will get his point across.   He did a good job.  I blush.  I’m flattered.

He takes his hat off and puts it on the table in front of us.

I ask him to please pick it back up – and to put it back on, but backwards.

He smiles, and does it.

I die.

I look at him and his matching blue hat, and think, “This man can not be 47 years old as it said in his profile! Wow, he looks good.”

At that moment, he leans over and asks for a kiss.

Wait, what?? I just met you! But then again, you are wearing the heck outta that damn hat…

He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.

I died again.

Those lips!

We continue conversation for another TWO HOURS.  A few more kisses snuck in.

I learn two things:

1.  This man doesn’t care about PDA.

2.  He knows what he wants.

In the meantime, a family of 4 visiting from another country (maybe Ireland or England) comes over to our area to watch the Australian Open on the TV.  A mom, dad, son about 13 and daughter, 21-ish who comes back from the bar with a drink.

Mr. Architect and I are chatting amongst ourselves.

He still has the hat on, backwards.

He’s leaning over to me to tell me something quietly, but stops abruptly, and says, “I think she just took my picture.”

What??

“Yeah! I think that girl just took my picture!” he says, quietly and in shock.

I turn my head to the right, where the girl was sitting, and sure enough, she’s holding her iPhone in the “I’m-trying-not-to-look-conspicuous-while-I-take-your-picture” way.

Well, what the what?!

She looks away.

He’s confused, yet flattered.

I’m smiling, laughing to myself.  Hell, I’m flattered.

He does look like someone famous.  An athlete (he’s 6′ 4″), the backwards hat, his attention that would glide to the sports on the TV in front of us occassionally.  Yep.  I can see what she was thinking.  I also remember that we’re in a high density of tourists area and people not from Los Angeles hope to run into a celebrity during their stay.

Awkward and awesome at the same time.

The real irony here, however, is that his ex (and mother to his two girls, 10 and 15) is somewhat famous.  A well-known TV personality who I went home later to Google.  Yep.  She’s someone.  He’s all too familiar with the Hollywood scene, and prefers to remain in the background. (This makes more sense now and I recall how he doesn’t like having pictures up online.)

So, we’re there nearly 2 1/2 hours by this point and he says he needs to put more money in the meter where he parked.

We get up to leave.

We walk across the street.  His Range Rover is up the block, so I suggest I wait for him at the bottom of the street.  When he comes back we can watch the sunset on the ocean.

He heads up the hill to his truck and not a minute later two of my girlfriends who I had brunch with earlier pop right up in front of me! They were still hanging out in the area and had seen us walk right past them moments ago.

They saw my date! And I wanted them to meet him, so moments later I’m introducing him to my girls.  Random! Awkward! Awesome! haha I love them, and it’s now fun to have them put a face and name with the shenanigans I dish later on. :)

We all walk across the street to the sand so we can watch the sun go down.  My girls decide to part ways, though, and Mr. Architect and I are now alone again.

We stroll on the promenade, walking slowly, talking and holding hands.  He’s very affectionate.

We find a spot to sit and talk some more.

We’re being all cute and kinda lovey-dovey and flirty and people are watching as they pass by on their walks.  (Something I learn to get use to on Date #2, Date #3 and Date #4.)

But it’s just me and him there, really.  The conversation continues…

The topic of his age comes up, and I want to verify that he’s really 47, as it says on his profile.  I love an older guy, and prefer someone in their 40s, but I just can’t believe that he’s that old! He looks much younger!

(Side note: I later asked my girls who met him how old they thought he was, and they said “late 30s, if that.”)

He reacts strangely, and just smiles.

Oh, no.  You did not lie on your profile, buddy! Did you??

He tells me he’s not 47.

I immediately begin to get nervous.

I ask again, demanding that he tells me how old he is.

Maybe he’s younger? Or not, wait, maybe….older? Oh no, how MUCH older?

He chuckles a little and says he’ll tell me.  He’ll be honest with me.

“I’m actually fifty.  Fifty…five.  55 years old.”

WHAT?!?!?!

Holy amazeballs, Batman! That can’t be right.

I feel like I’ve just been given the biggest shock of my life.

“Yep, it’s true.  But only for a few more weeks.  I’ll be 56 in two weeks.  On Superbowl Sunday.” He smiles a big smile.

WHAT?!?!?!?

I look for a paper bag to breathe into.  This is not what I was expecting.

I’m 33.  That’s a 22 year difference!

Ummm…ok, focus.  What do I do now? Hmmm….everything was going so great!

I look at him real close and just shake my head.  I don’t believe him.  He has to be younger.

But then he goes to tell me that he knew I wouldn’t respond to his message on Plenty of Fish if I had seen his real age.

He was right.

And now I think I’m kinda glad he lied.  Otherwise I wouldn’t be here on this fabulous date.

So at this point he’s conscious that I’m either two seconds away from bailing on this date and never talking to him again, or kissing him cuz he’s clearly the hottest AARP-card-carrying member I’ve met. (Omg, please don’t let that last assumption be true. How old do you have to be to qualify for AARP?)

He grabs my hands and then my waist and pulls me into a hug.  He gives me a playful kiss and that helps calm me down a bit.

I decide not to bail, but my mind is still reeling.

We have a bit more conversation and then we know it’s time to get going.  He had something to do with his daughters at 6:30pm.

We say goodbye, but not after me giving him crap about his age some more.  I appreciate that he was honest with me in person, and I know that a lot of people lie in their profiles about age.

And for some reason, I’m more curious than creeped out about this guy.

I’m fascinated by who he is, what he does, his story, his personality.  All of it.

I mean, there is an age difference.  And he was building Denzel Washington a house when I was still in high school (as I later found out), but I think I’m ok with that.

I think. :)

The shenanigans continue…

And a question for you!

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…

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