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.”
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?”
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? 🙂
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.
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 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.
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.”
“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.”
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.
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.
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:
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:
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.
(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.
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.
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
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!
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!
“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?
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.
About two weeks ago I received a message from a handsome Latin lad on OkCupid. A rugged-looking, great smile with beautiful brown eyes that sparkle. He’s an ex-Cirque dancer who’s traveled the world and now single, living in LA and working in post-production for a large company in the entertainment industry. He liked my profile and wanted to see if I was interested in meeting up to ‘take a coffee.’ (The broken English is very cute.)
I think he’s really great-looking and sounds interesting, so we send a few messages back and forth over the next week, and eventually exchange numbers.
Last night he texts me to see if I was available to take that coffee – he would be in my area before having to meet a friend out. Perfect.
We decide to meet at a nearby Starbucks, and as I approach he texts “Here?” I respond that I’m crossing the street.
(Side note – texting the play-by-play the moments before arrival and meeting a stranger for the first time comforts me. Thanks to quick texts, you don’t have the be the dork in the coffee shop looking at every new person who walks through the door, thinking, is that them??? Are they still coming? Am I too early? Did they find parking? When will they get here?! :))
I see a man with a beard step out of Starbucks and look at his phone as I make my way across the street to yet another first date scenario. I’m feeling excited! The anticipation of who this new person could be in your life definitely fills your head each time, moments before every first date actually happens.
He sees me walk up and we hug and say hello. It’s the awkward, nervous moment that happens on all first dates.
“Good to see you! Should we go inside?” he asks. Thick Spanish accent. Nice! The beard is different, though. He didn’t have that in his main profile pic.
We walk inside and he asks me how my day was. I tell him it was good and he asks what I do for a living. I tell him and he’s interested. I then return the question and he tells me where he works.
“No way! I have a good friend who works at that company,” I tell him, and he immediately holds his head and says…”Oh no……”
Now, at this moment, we both start smiling. The next 10 seconds will be very telling…
He asks who it is. I give him her name and he immediately grabs his head and says, “Oh NO!!!!! You’re kidding me! Of COURSE I know her! Oh woww…..” SMH.
And then he looks at me and says, “Wait. You and I, we’ve actually met before. At that….that, um….show, in Hollywood.”
Sure enough, we had. The lightbulb clicked. This man and I have met, although very briefly, several months ago during Intermission at a play in Hollywood my friend (his co-worker) had invited me to.
But THEN….it ALLLLLL clicked for me.
This was the same man who my friend had the occasional…um, meeting, with. A casual work fling she’d told me about, with a hot Latin dancer guy who was all about the sex.
OH SNAP. This guy is her booty call.
So at this point, we’re both extremely red in the face. We’re laughing because it’s so awkward, and I’m DYING inside because I doubt he knows what I know. Oh boy. What do I do now?! And is this really happening?!
So I keep quiet, and as we try to maintain composure, about 2 people who are standing near us ask if we’re actually in line or not.
We were so caught off guard. I’m sure we were standing there like 2 idiots. He asks if I’d still like a coffee. I say yes, and we order our drinks.
As we wait for his Passionfruit Tea to be made, we still are just laughing and shaking our heads. “Awkward…” he says, over and over.
“Ok, right?! And what are the chances?! There are millions of people in this city and we end up meeting!” I marvel.
He agrees it’s pretty crazy, still clearly embarrassed and/or trying to figure out what info I actually KNOW about himself.
So we sit down and he laughs and says we should text her we’re here together. I laugh and say, “No, wait. Let’s take a selfie together and send it! She’s going to die….”
And die she did, as I sent that pic of the two of us to her phone – me, one of her good gfs, and him, her booty call – just chillin’ at Starbucks. On a first date.
First of all, apologies to those waiting for more frequent updates about my exciting dating life here in Los Angeles. It’s been a few months since my last blog post and that’s totally not cool there was such a lag. My bad.
As much as the loop kept going, I didn’t keep you in it for a couple reasons:
1. Some of the recent shenanigans involved people who have the link to this blog, and therefore are most likely reading these words. (Hello!) In my attempt to keep people anonymous, including myself, I chose to not write up those escapades. They’re pretty special to me.
Plus, that’d be asking for some seriously vulnerable words on a page. I’m pretty open on this blog for those of you who DO know who I am, but dang, considering how things went with some people, that’d be like open heart surgery. Considering this blog post is titled “A New Year of Shenanigans!” instead of “OMG I’m no longer single!” or “OMG I’m engaged!” or something like that…yeah, no stories for you. Sorry. Next!
2. I’ve been busy.
Now, yeah I know, that’s a piss poor excuse when the shenanigans were gettin’ so GOOD on this blog, but seriously I’ve never been busier in my life. Work consumed me, I moved, the holidays happened, I went to Chicago, yada yada. All good, amazing stuff, but it took up my spare time and I find sleep to be amazing. (My new bed, btw, is lovely. Yes, Mr. Mattress Expert hooked me up!) So again, apologies, but no stories for you.
That brings us to today.
This post, I’ll give you a brief summary of the past 2+ months. It won’t be super juicy, but it’ll be interesting.
Hmmm, let’s see about a few highlights…
People keep popping back up. This happens with 90% of guys I ever meet. We don’t work out, I’m no longer interested, they move away, I tell them they’re a jerk, etc. Sometimes they’re actually cool guys and it’s nice to hear from them again. But they always get back in touch with me, somehow.
Mr. Can I Get a Vowel has since tried to see me three different times. His last text was a “Happy New Year! Wishing you all the…blah blah blah….in the new year, blah blah blah…inserts my name here….” Ummm yeah, no. I just checked his Facebook page again. Same girl is all hugged up in his pics. Come ON, dude!
Mr. Marriage Proposal actually helped me move. Since we’ve known each other for several years, it was a kind gesture and he has a truck – totally winning in the friend department. It was a bit awkward cuz it was him, me and my best friend (who’s a guy) who helped me move across town. I didn’t have much and we made it in one trip with just his truck and my car. It was awkward cuz he started pulling attitude from the beginning when he saw my bff. I think he was jealous. I dunno. Either way, he still smokes (eww) and that’s a dealbreaker for me. He ended up laughing with us all and having a good time by the end of the move, but we haven’t seen each other since, even though he’s texted me a few times to say hello, and let me know he’d be honored to be in my presence again. Hmm.
The Doc. Sigh. Well, The Doc and I are going to be an epic story, I think. As much as my last blog posts had me swearing I’d never see him again, I lied. To be kinda fair, we had a pretty decent period of time where we truly did NOT see each other, talk to other, text each other, call each other, send smoke signals, NOTHIN’….yet the inevitable happened. Like a moth to an ever-lovin’ flame, this guy waltzes into a party I threw awhile back, grabs me in the middle of the bar and didn’t let go for an hour. Literally. An hour. We stood there hugged up, all smiles and chatter, catching up, while the loud world around us just melted away. It was like a frickin’ movie and I had no idea it was happening. My friends all told me the next day. A few too many drinks prior to his arrival might have also contributed to the epically long slow dance. It was good to see him. We recently spent another 2 1/2 hours on the phone talking about love, Disney movies, parenting techniques, his work as a doctor, my work and career and more. This is not unusual for us and time flies when we’re together.
I don’t forsee an ending to that one anytime soon, although Prince Charming is most certainly welcome to swoop in and make me forget about the spell of this fine-ass Belizean doctor who keeps getting more amazing the longer I get to know him.
There’s also been a few unimportant guys come floating through that I had met online, although nothing to write home about.
Things have really “picked up” here in the last few weeks, but that’s a given considering we’re in peak hunting season, er, dating season. Excuse me.
The top of the new year is when all lonely singles make that resolution to find love in the next 12 months. They look back at the awkward Christmas parties they went to alone, the terribly embarrassing conversations from their family about when they’re going to find someone and say, “Yeah, that sucked. Let’s not go through that again.”
For me this year, the holidays had a mixture of all kinds of feelings. I was all over the map. Up, down, middle ground. I kept pretty busy with work and family trips but it never really felt like Christmas. I suppose traditions with a partner or loved one makes things more special? I dunno. I look forward to that in the future, however, and know that the shenanigans aren’t going to last forever. (Sorry, blog readers.)
I have a feeling that I’ll meet “him” this year. Or who “he” will be, will be revealed by the end of 2014. Just a hunch.
So until then, I promise to pick up the pace again with my blogging. I’ll be sure to keep you informed of the good stuff, so long as it’s not too terribly telling. And even then, my loyal blog readers deserve to hear about it. I promise to keep sharing, as long as you keep saying you want to live vicariously through my shenanigans on my pursuit of love.
A quick update for those of you wondering how my coffee first date went with the guy who sent me the text message about ONLY wanting to date someone if it meant it’d lead to marriage. Rare, I know, and I was excited to see what this guy was all about.
We met on a Saturday morning for coffee in Pasadena, halfway between where he and I live.
First impression? Cute! About my height (I’m 5’9″) and nice arms. Great smile, too.
We hug hello and then get in line to order some caffeine.
We’re at Starbucks and he’s a total Californian when he asks to have his drink made with 20 different specifics about it. I’m more the simple, laid-back type. I order straight off the menu.
We find some chairs and a table outside and begin to talk. He’s either kinda nervous or a bit more on the uptight side, I can’t tell. I’m definitely laughing (and making him laugh) more than the other way around. Hmmmm….a sense of humor is a dealbreaker for me.
So he asks me a question and as I’m answering it he interrupts me and says, “How’s your drink?”
I’m confused. It’s coffee. It’s good. I ask how his is and he’s not happy.
“It’s not strong enough. See, I like to really do things. If I’m paying for caffeine, I really want to…..feeeeel it.”
He says he’s like this in all areas of his life. Very extremist. Including his cleaning habits, grooming habits, working out habits and more. He actually says he’s like OCD, without the obsessive part. And he assures me that he doesn’t expect this of other people, it’s more just for him.
I have a quick vision of him flipping his lid cuz I left a dish in the sink for the second time, and quickly come back to reality.
He’s so unhappy about his drink that he says he’s going to go change it. He asks if that’s ok and he’s already up out of his chair.
Ummmm, I guess.
So literally TEN MINUTES later, he comes back out after having left me sit there by myself while he went in to try and have the poor barrista fix him the perfect coffee cocktail.
He’s happier now and we continue the conversation. I’m trying to give this guy a break, and he is actually mentioning a lot of things that I actually value and want, too.
We were in an area of lots of furniture stores and since I needed to start looking for some new things, I mentioned that IKEA was just a block away and that I wanted to check it out that day. I throw it out there to see if he wants to join me. He hesitates for a second, but then says that’s cool.
We walk over to IKEA, talking the whole time. Conversation is pretty surface level and this dude is not showing me any signs of real interest or affection. Now, I don’t need to have you kissing me within the first five minutes of a first date, but dang. If you’re acting like my brother or just a guy friend, then I’m not so much gonna feel anything romantic-like for you.
But at this point, I’m still trying to not give up so easily (as so many people dating do) and also don’t mind killing two birds with one stone by checking out what’s new at IKEA, so we begin the maze of Swedish furniture together.
Let me tell you, if you want to know what kind of person someone is on a first date, take them to IKEA and walk through that maze together. You’ll know so much more at the end of it.
We survived the maze, although I learned two things:
1. I’m not really a fan of IKEA anymore, even if I want to be ballin’ on a budget for some things.
2. He doesn’t enjoy too many people in crowds, particularly screaming children.
It wasn’t horrible, but definitely interesting.
He walks me back to my car, hugs me goodbye and says it was a pleasure. I think he mentions something about meeting up again, but I can’t really recall. It was a few weeks back now and honestly, I left kinda underwhelmed.
I haven’t heard from him since, and guess what? That’s ok. 🙂
Last night I was invited to a fashion show. My friend’s clothing line for kids was being featured on the runway and she offered me a ticket.
The show was great and afterwards we mingled with others at the VIP cocktail reception.
My friend introduces me to two gentleman she had met earlier – both wearing suits.
Now in LA, it’s RARE to see a man in a suit. The lifestyle is so casual here that it’s not unusual to see someone in jeans on the red carpet. Dressing up is an exception in Los Angeles so I looooooove seeing a man in a suit. (Blame my lawyer ex-husband who got me hooked on picking out ties. My weakness.)
In LA, if a guy’s in a suit, he’s either a banker, a lawyer or lives in Beverly Hills. Just my experience. 🙂
Sure enough, this one guy I had my eye on lives in Beverly Bills.
We chat, we flirt, we play the “guess my age” game with all four of us and then clink our glasses together to “cheers” to us all looking wayyyyyy younger than our actual ages. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for the good genes.
I’m loving that this one guy is 49, but looks and acts like he’s in his 30s. I love he’s from the Dominican Republic but raised in New York and an NYU grad. Oh. And that he’s wearing a suit and tie ensemble that probably cost that of a good mortgage payment. I’m not mad.
My friend tells the two guys what I do for a living and Mr. Armani asks me if I also freelance on the side. I tell him I do sometimes and he wants my card. Awesome. He gives me his.
We talk more about us both being single parents, how much we love our kids and what position my son plays in football.
The time passes, we’re having great banter and we kinda drift a few feet over to have a more private conversation. He tells me stories of what REALLY happened with Kobe Bryant and his scandal, what his famous actor friend (who he won’t share his name) gave him for his 47th birthday, and a few of the film and charity projects he’s involved in. So Hollywood.
We’re chatting and laughing away and then the shocking moment of the night happens. He says something about being in trouble as a kid and I laugh and say I was grounded my whole childhood, too. He just looks at me and says, “I know you were.”
Um, excuse me? You weren’t there. How did you know that? We just met! What the what?
He answers, “OH, come on. You’re a rebel. It’s all in your eyes…..”
Dang! I’m so busted here, because it’s partly true, although I’ve been playing the professional, classy woman role all night. People tell me all the time I have these eyes…but how do they see this stuff??
I’m literally shocked, and smiling, ask how he could possibly know that (all the while maintaining my innocence).
“Please, I read you like a book right away. What’s that line in Jerry Maguire?…. Oh yeah, you had me at hello.” 🙂
I’m now blushing yet intrigued and luckily his friend walks over to say he’s got to get going.
Mr. Armani and him came together so he gives me a hug and asks what I’m doing this weekend. He tells me we should get together, and since I live just down the street from him it’d be easy to do. He tells me his travel plans for the next week and says we’ll figure something out. I tell him that’d be great. And they head out.
So now I wait for him to be a man and make a move. Yes, I’ll wait – not with baited breath, but with a vision of me strolling through his walk-in closet….full of ties. 🙂