The Long Interview

I just got through a 4 1/2 hour interview. I think it went okay, but after about hour 3, my brain (not used to all that talking and activity) started turning to mush. By the final interviewer, I'm not really sure what came out of my mouth, and I could feel myself stuttering just to get words out.

The interview process involves a strange game of cat and mouse. Once you've expressed interest and they've expressed interest back, no cards are fully revealed on either side until a mutual agreement of employment has been made. You might go on a second or even third interview, and think you knocked it out of the park, but never get a call back. You might answer one question the wrong way, and not know you just expressed a hot button for the company. You will generally get nothing but smiles, regardless of what they think of you.

It is not unlike the dating process in that way. You might express interest, he might respond in kind. You can go on a second or third date feeling like you're on a road somewhere, but never get a call back. Sometimes you understand where things went wrong, other times you don't. And like a job, dating is an at-will agreement -- whether it's you or him not feeling it's a good fit. Maybe it's not the right time, or the "job" has already been filled as you've been interviewing.

My life is all interviews right now. Sometime soon, I'm hoping to find the right fit, and hear the good news that I got the job.

Been There, Felt That

As a single woman, sometimes it can feel like you just can't wait another day to meet someone -- anyone -- who might at least spark your interest. Sometimes it can feel like you have waited longer than anyone else in the world to meet someone, and feel like you have somehow been forgotten by God among the millions of needs and hurting people in the world. Or that you are the only one feeling the pain of unrequited feelings. Sometimes you look around at the increasing number of your married friends -- some who have been married for years now -- and it seems they have always been content and comfortable in their relationship. 

But the truth is, you are not the only one. In fact, probably every person you know has been in your shoes or is in your shoes now. If I sit and think even for a moment about some of those friends, I quickly recall stories of angst and drama -- some that lasted for years and years -- that were part of the road to getting where they are now. I recall the same frustration and waiting and wondering, I recall healing processes that sometimes involved painful rejection and disappointment over again. And I recall reality -- that even just a week or two ago, this friend told me about a frustrating dynamic in her marriage, and that friend shared about her husband's struggle with forgiveness. 

Though it doesn't make me feel better to remember some of the painful roads my own friends have taken, it does help snap me out of my own false bubble of isolation.  It spurs me on to trust God with another day of my life as an adult, choosing to hold on not knowing what the future holds. And it reminds me that I'm normal.

Chasing Cinderella

Over the years, I have confronted my own obsession with the Prince Charming, perfect guy fantasy. Over this year in particular, I have given up the ghost as dwelled upon in previous posts. I'm living in both the harshness and freedom of embracing reality head-on. There's no feeling quite like knowing you have overcome what used to be such a paralyzing issue, even if it means dealing with the terrifying issues of real life.

The problem is, you can't bring others with you on a personal journey through healing. Everyone must brave their own alone.  And if the single men around you are still living with ghosts in their closet -- or one ghost -- what is a single woman to do?  I have tried competing with a fantasy before, and I lose every time.  

As much as I love Silent Bob, it turns out his Hollywood story about chasing Amy is all too common, and has become a real liability.  And real girls like myself go back to the drawing board.  Hopefully we'll find a real guy someday, who has real issues like ours.

What Does Settling Sound Like?

My friend sent me this article published on The Atlantic.com:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200803/single-marry

The topic of "settling" starts to become a regular visitor to the thoughts of anyone single and over 30. You just went through a decade of watching friends get married to sweethearts, and suddenly you are almost out of single friends of the opposite sex. For better or for worse, you are left in a lot of those who did not settle.

But settling, like any facet of relationships, is not a black and white issue. The word connotes something negative in all of our minds -- who wants to settle for something less than what they want? I grew up settling for things because my mom didn't want to pay a certain amount or because she just didn't like what I liked. So as an adult, I've had to face my own inner child, that wants to demand things exactly as she wants them -- she's done settling.

Enter adulthood. The older you get, the more you realize almost nothing in this world is all one thing or all another -- all good or all bad. And hopefully, the fantasies that have been constantly spoon-fed down your throat since you left the womb about Prince Charming, perfect soul mates and matches made in heaven are starting to get stripped from your adult mind and you are exchanging it for reality. In that sense, everything we choose involves some amount of "settling," because nothing in this world is perfect. It's just different -- each with its own set of great and not so great things. The question isn't whether or not you should settle -- it's about knowing what you can settle for.

I appreciate much of what the writer of this article, Lori Gottlieb, is saying inasmuch as she bucks the whole notion of romantic dreams come true. We just don't hear that enough in our culture. But I do believe that romantic love is out there for everyone -- maybe just not in the way we've been brainwashed into thinking. For me, the most compelling part of the article comes she says: "Women across the country are poring over guidebooks that all boil down to determining, 'Does he like me?,' while completely overlooking the equally essential question, 'Do I like him?'" A woman with a crush is generally a woman in love with a fantasy of the man she has met, so rejection will feel like the one perfect man meant for you just labeled you not good enough. The reality is, he is not that one perfect man; he is just man. And if those particular imperfections either prevent him from appreciating who you are or have rendered him emotionally incapable, then who needs that? That's living in reality.

I could go on about this topic, but what do I really know? I apparently haven't settled either way.


Mr. Not-So-Perfect, "Shopgirl," 2005

My Best Friend's Wedding

Over the weekend, one of my best friends got married. It was overall a joyful day. There is nothing like celebrating with someone close to you - it was the happiest I've ever been for a friend getting married.

But in the strange season life happens to be for me right now, there was a hint of sadness for me as well. As I prepared my toast for my good friend over the week, I found myself in a mix of intense emotion. Joanie was getting married - something I had hoped, prayed and suffered with her over the years. It meant a prayer answered, but it also meant the end of a season in our friendship. I found myself in the midst of adulthood, wondering where the time had gone and when we had all grown up. I looked around me and realized with both joy and sadness that things had changed. Joy for the ways I have grown and seen my suffering turn into character and hope over the years, sadness for the unique lightness of young adulthood that was gone and never to be returned to. And I was escorted into the reception by two groomsmen because of the absence of a bridesmaid, our friend Midi. Things have changed, indeed.

2008 continues to be the year of facing the reality of life, stripped of all fantasy that any situation I can conjure up will magically complete me. No man, job, friendship or status can be perfect or make me someone I'm not - all of the best of these things still bring their own share of suffering. It is a reality of both hope and pain, of waiting and living, of being both scared of the future and completely secure in what it may bring. And I go forward knowing what you never want to admit in your 20s - that you can't insist on your own way in life, and maybe that's for the best.


March 15, 2008 with my two best friends

Today

I think life changed for myself and many others at the beginning of this year in losing my friend, Midi. As for me, I began to see how much pain we bear in this life. As I posted a few weeks ago, we change whenever anything dies in our lives. The reality is, just as new things happen and new things are born everyday, countless things and people die everyday as well. It is the surest sign that this world is not as it was intended to be -- that pain we feel, the suffering of loss and grief of death are signs that something is not right.

What I have been learning about myself and about human nature is that we don't know how to handle pain. Some of us run from it for dear life, some of us wallow, some get angry, some blame themselves, and I think all of us fear that it will happen again. I am guilty of doing all of the above at some point in my life.

But today is a new day, in a new time after January 1 of this year. Everyday I feel in some way that things are not as they should be. I have had moments of looking around me and wondering when things and people changed as they did. When did I lose that closeness with this friend, or when did I find myself not caring about the same things, or feeling the same as the people around me? Oddly enough, I think this is a pain of growing up. And instead of responding in the ways I used to, I'm learning to accept the state that I am in in this world right now, today. For me, it is a season of living day by day. Because today's troubles are enough for today. And whatever it is I'm going through, I can get through it 24 hours at a time.

The Worthwhile Wait

I hate waiting. There is nothing like bad traffic or long lines to bring out the expletives. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realize life is all about waiting. When a major life threshold is crossed, there is always something new to wait for. In a larger sense, we are always in waiting for a thing that is bigger and grander than what we have now. But waiting is a constant reminder that we are not in control. And that pushes my buttons.

A problem with waiting may look on the surface like impatience or anxiety. But underneath it, I see in myself a fear of being disappointed the way I've been in the past, and an anticipation that it will only happen again. My fear is that my needs and desires go unnoticed by God and I'll be left hung out to dry. On the flip side, the cure for my impatience I think will only be found when I resolve those issues from the past and find a new freedom to hope for what is to come, whatever it may be. To say you have hope for anything is much easier said than practiced. If I really was a person of hope, the wait is simply part of the journey and part of the anticipation. Like a period of engagement, it is filled with activity and excitement for what is to come.

And so I return to square one. I may not get this job, or that guy, or this other gig. But I'm determined to hope and dream bigger, and believe that goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. Though it may take everything to reverse the cynicism bred in me from my youth, I resolve to live for today and wait in hope for tomorrow. No more waiting in vain, Bob.

The Available Sign

Although we technically no longer live in the era where we need to depend on a dowry and willing male suitor, or a time of arranged marriages, I don't know if there will ever be a time where the single woman has full say in whether or not she gets the man.

Despite the movements of women's liberation, feminism and the like, when you boil it all down we women still want to be cared for in a relationship where we are not playing Mom to our mates.  I include myself in a line of women who still believe that it is the man's job to ultimately lead in a relationship -- not in a patriarchal, chauvinistic way, but in a grown man with balls way. I have male friends who agree with me on this, more knowing that it's as good for them as it is for us.  And having gone the "take charge" way before and have it backfire miserably, I don't need much more convincing.   

Which is not to say women sit back and hope and pray for the him to show up on our doorstep like a FedEx Christmas present.  There are certainly ways to send signals of openness and communicate interest.  But what do we do when we are all out of our bag of tricks?  We find ourselves right back in the middle of Jane Austen England, where if he's just not that into you or if he doesn't have the guts to respond, the lady is S.O.L. 

Sometimes I wish we lived in a society (does one even exist out there?) where we could all just be upfront with our cards.  "I like you," "I don't like you," "I like you but am emotionally unavailable."  Sometimes the signs-only world that is our dating culture gets very tiresome, and I'd say gets us all into more complicated situations than not. Maybe we're all a little too afraid of hurting each other's feelings. But I'll take hurt feelings any day over mixed signals for months. It's a time saver... and at 31 that counts for a lot.

Singlefemalitis

There are times I walk around feeling like I have a disease: Singlefemalitis. The disease is experienced by all who remain single into their early 30s, who have a decent sense of humor and set of social skills. Symptoms manifest only around certain couples and certain single men, and bring out reactions in these parties that include fear, awkwardness, jealousy and confusion.

I can manage well enough in my condition around couples. I'm sensitive to the adverse effects it can have, so I try to make a point of interacting as much with the female as male counterparts to make all feel at ease -- especially if I share any kind of common bond with the male. It can get hard when male friends of mine are in need to know I can't just reach out as I might have freely done in my college years or even a few years ago, when the disease was more widespread and boundaries not as needed. As a result, sometimes you will just lose touch with people -- both male and female -- merely because of your single condition.

For me, the disease is more difficult around the single men who aren't interested and can't shake the fear of Singlefemalitis. It brings out in them the fear of giving you the wrong idea. I don't know what's worse: that I am seen only for my singleness, not beyond that as a person or friend; or that it is presumed that I'm so hungry for companionship and respite from the condition that they'll somehow get sucked into it with no escape. I wanna tell them, "Dude, I'm okay with it -- can we be adults and move on?" But things being how they are, certain things are just not okay to say.

And so I continue to deal with my disease day to day. Most of the time I hardly feel its effects, and often even enjoy its benefits. But it only takes a weird vibe to remind me that sometimes my singleness can be a discomfort to more than just myself.

Heart-crack, heartbreak

January was the longest month I've been through for maybe as far back as I can remember at this point. As a child, every month seemed to stretch on forever. When you're an adult, only a very significant event seems to slow it down -- as if your reference point for "beginning" has been reset.

As I've been contemplating many things during that long month, and beginning on a road of healing over the loss of a friend, I have been struck by the fact that no one is replaceable in this world. Every person is completely unique in their thoughts, loves, qualities, perceptions. So when you lose someone in your life, you change as well.

When you lose someone in a breakup, you might become jaded or bitter, but hopefully instead you learn from the experience and become more healed and whole instead. When you lose someone permanently, you might find your fears about life and death surfacing, or grief may give way to anger or hopelessness. But hopefully, instead you find new conviction in the things you believe, and urgency to give meaning to the time you have here. Either way, when loss occurs in relationships, it is impossible to stay just the same. People touch eachother's lives in deep ways, and when they leave it is up to us to process and ultimately choose what that change is to become in us.

We can even experience multiple losses at once. In one fragile state, we can experience another blow. It might feel like a mere bruise or cut in comparison the broken leg most of our emotional energy is being expended on, but the bruise or cut inflicted must still heal as well.

I walk around with a limp this month. And though I'm feeling the pain in more than one place, I'm determined to be healed in hope for the better, not in resignation for the worse. I'm prepared for the prognosis of "long recovery period" -- it often is with our hearts.

Single, But Never Alone

Today I watched my good friend and her beloved son get buried. It was the closest death I've ever experienced, and the loss of a great woman. The last couple of weeks have felt like a couple of months, and there is a seemingly permanent ache that moves from the pit of my stomach to my chest and then back again. It disappears for brief moments, when disbelief has suspended the pain of reality. But it can return like a ton of bricks again at any time.

But over the past couple of weeks, I have also been reminded of some important things -- things I realize I couldn't live without. One, I referred to in my previous post already. Were it not for the promise that life here on earth is just a shadow of life and joy to come, a grain of sand on the beach of eternity, and that I will see my friends Midi and Nathan again, I would fall apart or find some temporary delusion to make myself feel better.

In addition to that promise, I have been overwhelmed and grateful for the community of friends I am priviledged to know and be a part of. These people have a love in them that brings us together in a time like this to ensure that no one will be alone in a time of great suffering. They come together and put all things aside to rightly honor a great friend and woman before 500+ witnesses of her love and life. I can connect with friends I haven't seen for years, and it's as though not a day has gone by -- except that we are each deeper and wiser for our experiences since then, not jaded and bitter as many get. And as I have spoken with others about the tragedy that has befallen my friend, I have been reminded that most people in this world don't have that. Many suffer and die alone.

Many people say a loved one that has just passed away was amazing, extraordinary or special. Many also say their friends are the greatest people in the world. But I lost a truly extraordinary friend last week, and it makes grieving her loss a weighty thing indeed. But I also celebrate her life with truly the greatest people in the world - the kindest, most genuine, funny, and loving. I have the priviledge of knowing people who have surrendered their lives to the only thing that can transform us beyond the surface and into the core of who we are, and be selfless in a way no one makes it their business to be. I don't think I could live without these things, but I also know it is a luxury none of us deserve.

I don't often get all God in this blog, but I have a lot to say this week about things that feel much more pressing than relationships and dating. The last and most important thing I have been reminded of is the true treasure and reality of my friendship with God. And of all people, it is my friend Mark who has just suffered this immense loss, that has reminded me of this. He survives with an immeasurable hole in his heart, and it is because his God is bigger than that hole in a way we don't understand. And as I have pondered the fleeting nature of this life and how we each have a beginning and end date here in this life, it has forced me to know more than ever that the constants in my life are unseen -- they souls and spirit, and life that has been breathed into body. And God has brought me through these last two long weeks and will continue to be my friend to lament my loss this year and beyond.

For all of these things, I could be single for the rest of my life, but I know I won't be alone.

2008: Nothing's Ever Promised Tomorrow Today

I don't know that anyone is ever prepared when death comes upon a loved one. But in most circumstances, you have some warning: a grandmother with Alzheimer's disease, a father with cancer, or just plain old age that makes a person vulnerable. Of course, that never makes it feel any less shocking when it actually hits. Suddenly, this very important, beloved person in your life is no longer there. Life passes to death in a moment, and there is no preparation for knowing you'll never be able to talk or laugh with them again.

I just lost a dear friend to a very sudden and untimely, hit-and-run car accident on New Year's Day. One of her twin sons was also taken by the crash. Her husband and their other son survive them. And the fragility of life and all that we think we possess have startlingly been brought to my attention to start off this new year of 2008.

Though my heart is heavy and things in my life that seemed so important just a few days ago suddenly seem much smaller and yet much more difficult to do, I'm humbled by her husband's response in the midst of a bigger personal tragedy than most people will ever experience: That in heartbreak, he is so grateful for the time he had with his wife and 4-year-old son, which he sees as undeserved gifts to him from God, and that he'll see them again soon as life is short in the span of eternity. Some people may call this crazy talk -- I say they are the words of a man who knows well that God loves him and is unchangingly good, even when we are thrust into circumstances we may never understand the reason for. These are things I myself am still trying to learn...

As I begin what I've already been sensing is a new season of my life marked by the end of 2007, I do so with this perspective: that my life and all that it entails is borrowed, not anything I'm entitled to. We are all dust in the end. As for me, I believe there's something far more amazing that awaits after death, though I know not all carry that same hope. And I'm grateful that gives me the one thing that can't be taken away.

My friend's last words to me were in passing when I saw her at a wedding a few weeks ago. They were in regards to plans we were making for my best friend's upcoming bachelorette party: "Tina, please tell me we're not doing Thunder Down Under!" Her great sense of humor matched her beauty and life. And god, I'll miss her.

Midi Kim Mikasa -- we will grieve your loss for months and years to come. I know I can only strive to be the person of quiet, genuine love and joy you were. The world lost one of its great saints yesterday, and we know it.

Marriage is a Dirty Word

Not so long ago, we had movies like "Runaway Bride" and "So I Married An Axe Murderer" that poked fun at the issues surrounding fear of marriage. Each still resolved itself in the girl in a white dress as the credits rolled. Then a few years back, "Forces of Nature" (a personal favorite of mine but hated by the critics, with reason) went a level deeper, putting Ben Affleck into the throes of temptation on the verge of his nuptials. He takes a step in, but in a very anti-worldly move, gets his head back in the end and teaches us all a lesson about love and commitment.

Nowadays, marriage has been redefined by our media. It is often the empty shell that represents doing what we're expected to, or false hope, or foolish, immature escape from real love - that of course exists outside of marriage. Movies, both comedy and drama -- "Little Children," "The Hearbreak Kid," "Notes on a Scandal," "Spanglish," "Finding Neverland," "Closer" to name a few -- directly or indirectly attack marriage as a B.S. institution.

Cable TV's new sensation, "Californication" does the same. Today's modern family can be seen in David Duchovney's on-again, off-again relationship with a woman and their child. The first season's climactic ending leaves off with her leaving a man at the altar and running off with Duchovney. Although I haven't seen the show, it all sounded very "General Hospital" to me. A friend of mine recently told me how his watching of the show made him really question the purpose of marriage for the first time. "Is the point to blow a lot of money on a fancy wedding, or to marry rich and get a good lump sum when the marriage ends? Or is it just for the facade of security with someone you don't really love? I don't know about marriage..." was his sad, jaded conclusion.

The problem with making mass media our guide to living (don't get me started) is that though the fantasy worlds of TV and movies are so persuasive -- with their hot actors and so-called happy endings and all -- we don't seem to pick up on the fact that our problem is our obsession with finding that happy ending in a person. In Chris Rock's "Never Scared" HBO special, he expounds on the dilemma of "married and bored or single and lonely," saying there's no happiness anywhere. Although I don't quite agree with the hopelessness of this diatribe, I appreciate the honest treatment of a subject matter that often has all its hopes lumped into one category or another. As our generation awakens to the reality of the difficulty of marriage -- that it's not what will make all of our wildest dreams come true -- we are now putting our hopes in extra-marital affairs to make it all better. The problem is, people are still people whether you are married or single or having an affair. We are all one big, hot mess.

I wonder what the next wave of TV and movies will bring when we realize that that wasn't the answer either.

Unattainable or Defective?

I know an older single person who was asked once why he wasn't dating and whether he was interested in getting married at this point in his life. His answer regarding his options: "Well, you figure if a car's been on the lot that long, what's wrong with it?"

As a single person myself, I don't feel like I'm yet at the point of no return. I'm not "old," even by my standards, and though most of my friends are married with babies or kids, there are still single guys out there. But it does beg the question - who's left?

I used to complain about the guy who always went after the "unattainable" girl and then got her - like somehow he was enticed by the chase of the unattainable. But really, if he got her then she really wasn't unattainable. In fact, if we are staying true to definition, it's the still single people who are unattainable. We literally haven't been got. And maybe that's the problem.

As I've started looking around, I've realized that we are all cars with missing engine parts. Some just don't have the parts missing that make them flee from relationships like others do. And I have to take responsibility for my own faulty engine.

Still, I have no regrets so far. My happily married friends don't know how to rock a dancefloor like I do... and I consider that a gift of singleness.

Lesson 1: Don't Do That

As a female DJ, I realize some advances I receive are a-typical in context but I think in content probably not all that different. Here are two scenarios with the same lesson to single men everywhere: Don't Do That. I'll italicize particular Don't Dos and give footnotes for easy learning.

SCENARIO 1:
- (strange man makes his way to talk to me at Barcopa, standing about 6 inches from me* as he speaks) "I noticed you dancing from over there - are you really into music?"
- "Actually yes, I'm one of the DJs here."
- "Oh really? I'm here with a friend of mine from Bad Boy...I work with industry people a lot**."
- "I see. I'm sorry, did you say you're a musician?"
- "No, no... I'm from New York and I (blah blah blah not making sense - he also has more of a southern accent than NY, but whatever) but I have a lot of connections in the music industry. I actually am not much of a club person - but once in a while I like to get out, mix it up, meet some hos..." (I'm trying to take a step back to create personal space, he keeps moving in so his breath is on my damn face and now he's touching my arm for effect with the "hos" comment***)
- "huh-huh..." (that's me not really laughing and giving him my "did you just call me a ho?" look)
- "So can I have a dance?"
- "Thank you, I'm very flattered but I don't think so."
- "Can I buy you a drink?"
- "I don't drink actually...but thank you."
- "Can I just get you anything at all?"
- "You can get me a bottle of water if you want."
(after getting me a bottle of water and trying to force me to dance with him****, I politely tell him to buzz off. Good. Lord.)
* I am generally not a person with a huge need for personal space. With people I'm close with, or have known and bonded with for more than 30 minutes, I am very free. But if you are a complete stranger to me, don't be all up in my face like you're about to swallow me whole.
** As a DJ who has had to deal with a Crazy Promoter Man already, don't pull that line on me. It only serves as a red flag.
*** I'm sorry, did you just call me a ho? And do you really not know why that's not a turn-on?
**** I'm all for being pursued by a guy where it has been established that he is actually interested in me as a person. But if we are at a bar or club and you just called me a ho, so it's clear to all what is happening here, no means no. And not taking no for an answer really just hurts your cause.

Take-Aways for the dude: If you're interested in having an actual conversation with me, we could hit it off. If you're looking for a ho, we definitely won't.

SCENARIO 2 setup: I'm DJ-ing a middle of the night, prime time dancefloor set and notice a guy trying to get my attention. As a DJ, most of the time people trying to get your attention are wanting to make requests.
- "Hi, can I help you?"
- "Hi, what's your name?"
- "Um...Tina, or DJ Mixtine."
- "Hi, I'm Blah-blah-blah. Why don't you come dance with me?*"
- (silent for a moment...unsure of how to state the obvious politely, so I give up) "I'm DJ-ING right now." (hand gestures indicate this actually requires concentration and me not being on the dancefloor)
- "Well how about you take a break or something?"
- "I'm sorry, I need for you to leave me alone right now." (go back to DJ-ing, have now missed a cue and need to find a song)
- "Well how about I get you a drink? Do you want some food?"
- (annoyed, talk to the hand gesture - he finally goes away)
*I'll just make some overall commentary on what not to do. If a girl is DJ-ing, maybe you should WAIT 'TIL SHE'S DONE to try and have this conversation. And as a girl who inherited her mom's propensity to her to speak her mind that can sometimes backfire, I should have been nicer about telling the guy to buzz off. There's no need to be rude, even to the slimey.

Hopefully, this was an enlightening lesson for all. I know I learned a couple of things...

The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Sometimes a single female such as myself will find herself the victim of a beast more terrible than she could nightmare up: The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

Although there may in fact be nothing remotely romantic or physical going on between you and your male friend who broke her heart, the fact that you are friends may be enough fodder to awake the beast. For whatever reason -- maybe you share a hobby with said male friend -- you are spending some time with the guy, he's helping you out, and then you encounter Crazy. Crazy will do anything to manipulate situations to make you feel smaller than her and establish herself in some imaginary fourth-grade seat of power. The worst part is, no one else in her sphere sees this because the rest of her domain consists of mostly men, who we all know are mostly blind to the manipulative workings of a woman - especially if she's hot - which suprisingly Crazy often is. Hot generally masks the Crazy for a good period of time.

After trying to be the bigger person and just let things go, and knowing full well if you bring things up with your male buddy that you will come off as the crazy one, there may come a point where a line has been crossed and a conversation must be had. Although frustrating, you may find that in most cases, Crazy is just incredibly insecure (which you probably figured) + incredibly un-self-aware. Not a good combo, and equally hard to reason with as an actual insane person. But with some willingness to confront Crazy and stand up for yourself while giving a little dallop of ego massage and extra measure of grace, things can be smoothed over.

In my own encounters with Crazy, I have had to swallow a rather large pill of pride. Although I did get a lot of trying to turn the tables on me, very little acceptance of responsibility and a very begrudging apology, it was an apology nonetheless and I needed to forgive her and be the bigger person because you can't really blame Crazy for not knowing any better. I don't know what her background is, but it's safe to assume Crazy generally wasn't loved enough as a child and that deserves compassion. Even if she was taking that out on you in the process. Crazy and I will probably never be best friends or even close, but at least civility and, more importantly, accountability have been reached. Thank God one of us at least has taken in some hard lessons in dealing with conflict -- it sure as hell prepares you for the ultimate test of managing Crazy.

Mental note: Crazy Ex can be a red flag for any guy you might be interested in. Especially if he still doesn't see it.

Reflections at 31...and a few days

Yesterday I saw "Becoming Jane," and realized that although I don't live in a time where my options are limited to only those of a certain financial status (although I wouldn't mind, being currently unemployed and all), I'm limited in the scarcity of mutual romantic feeling in my life. Unlike Jane Austen, I haven't the luxury of a forbidden love. It's been years since I've really felt anything for anyone that has lasted longer than a couple of weeks, and I'm currently wondering if my heart has shriveled up into an uninspired, jaded little prune.

I have been glad for this year of being Mixtine. Spinning out, navigating the politics of DJ-ing, throwing myself into something I love in the face of my own fears. And though I don't plan on stopping those efforts to put myself out there as a DJ, I also wonder if 31 is the year for me to put my heart out there again.



August 11 in London

Beware of Hot Genius Man

Sometimes there's nothing more attractive than a man who does something really well. The stereotype of the handyman who rescues a damsel from home improvement distress may not apply to all, but there is a virtuoso in some walk of life that will just push that button for you. He's worked hard to be one of the best in his field, and when you see him in action you get those swirly things in your eyes and suddenly you're in Fantasyland. The problem with Boy Wonder though, is just that. He has spent his whole life wholly committed to one thing: his field of expertise. He probably has a few broken relationships, maybe even kids (though of course he's not married), or he doesn't get into relationships at all because he just isn't in the habit.

The older you get, the more accessible these celebrity types become. My theory is that it is partly because they have remained single for the above stated reasons. But whatever the case may be, you -- or I, rather -- as a single person may need to confront an interested virtuoso, and not just get swept up in the romance of his art. For a girl with passion in music and food, particular weaknesses lie with excellent DJs and young, hot chefs.

But at a certain point, you read enough tabloids on divorce and bitterness, and consider your own tendencies to fall for the wrong man, and it may become very clear that you gotta hold out.

New Year for a New Single Self

Not everyone celebrates Christmas or Hanukkah, and the holidays mean different things to different people depending on whether or not family or loved ones are accessible (emotionally or physically). But everyone seems to feel the hope a new year brings. As someone who does celebrate Christmas and believe in Jesus (though it's a struggle sometimes in the worst sides of me), I don't think it's an accident that somehow Jesus' birth is celebrated just before the new year. I quote my favorite Christmas song says: "Then he appeared and the soul felt its worth; A thrill of hope -- the weary world rejoices; For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."

Whatever the last year was for you, it was probably a great many things unexpected as it is every year for us. We never know what kind of turns in relationships -- even close friendships, new attractions, self-realizations and hopes realized and disappointed will come our way in the 525,600 minutes we have to think, feel and respond to what comes our way. For some, a good cathartic session of crying in mourning may help clear that palate for 2007. For others, a time of thinking over lessons learned and new goals to set either personally or vocationally.

I started 2006 determined to find the right man. Instead, I found a few not-so-right men. But after my own cathartic cry on January 1 mourning more than a few things from 2006 (and let's be honest, things into childhood), I find myself hopeful for the clean slate of 2007. Losers, winners, personal failures and breakthroughs, things perfect and not perfect -- bring it. In the words of Cliff Poncier of Citizen Dick, "all this negative energy -- it only makes me stronger."


True or untrue? "Life is short, stay single."

The Name is Bond; James Baggage Bond

After watching Casino Royale, the prequel to the James Bond male fantasy escapades we know and love for spectacular action and ample eye candy, suddenly the decades-old movie franchise has a sadder, more bitter taste. Bond's precision as an agent and charisma as a lady's man actually boil down to a lot of pain and avoidance underneath.

I think about myself and the people around me, and it isn't long before I stumble across the baggage that drives so much of our decisions and chosen ways of life. Some go from relationship to relationship looking for anything that will keep them from facing their own fears of loneliness, while others refrain in fear of intimacy -- maybe they've been burned before. Some lose themselves in work or hobbies or social causes, anything to protect ourselves from how we are really doing.

As for me, coming out of a long weekend makes me think of some of the baggage that I'm still waiting on God to pick up and maybe moreso myself to invite him to sift through the pile with me: this crushed bag of a friendship I lost, that fragile parcel of former boyfriend's happiness, this appliance of my fears and insecurities, that pile of fantasies I never should have bought. And the list goes on.

I haven't lost hope yet though. There's always the mercy and goodness of God that's chasing me down. And the more I see in myself and around me, it is my only hope.


Self-protection much?

Married Metamorphosis

"You realize of course that men and women can never be friends." -- When Harry Met Sally

Although many cross-gender friendships may attempt to belie this, there has to be some truth to it -- especially the older you get. Somewhere in your early 20s, you stop making those brother-sister, androgynous bonds and suddenly initiation of new friendship with the opposite sex is just different. I have some male friends, but I also have plenty more I have almost completely lost touch with since they entered the big M. And I don't begrudge them for it -- I understand that truth in Harry's words, applicable in greater or lesser degrees. Some wives don't feel comfortable if hubby's got cozy hangouts with single women from his past single life, and depending on the woman and depending on the hubby, that is fair enough.

But as a still-single woman, it makes me think of a few things. One, it sure is a bummer to lose some healthy friendships with not much more than an unspoken understanding that such are the changing seasons of life. Two, I can't deny that I'm glad for now to not be in those shoes. Gives me a little more quality time with those friends I might eventually lose. Call it the single-married trade-off, and for now I get to keep those friends...and my independence.


PS. R.I.P. Bruno Kirby. :(

There Is No "Fun Bobby"

In season 2 of "Friends," Monica rekindles a relationship with a character the friends call "Fun Bobby." Through the course of the show, we see that Fun Bobby only lives up to the first part of his name when he's had a few too many: He's the funny, charming life-of-the-party as long as he's a little tipsy. Without, he's just a semi-depressed guy with a handful of boring stories.

But in my experience, Fun Bobby doesn't actually exist. At the risk of waxing after-school-special, I have never met anyone I preferred drunk to sober. If anything, the slurred, semi-adolescent advances of a Fun Bobby are more Sad Bobby to me, and quickly turn to Really Lonely and Maybe Depressed Bobby if he absolutely needs the bottle to have a enjoy himself. Sad, because Sober Bobby is so much more interesting to me -- he has actual thoughts, reactions, sensitivity, even insecurities that all say something about who he really is and what his life experiences have been. And anyone who isn't enough themselves without a drink does not magically become that with -- it's just a symptom that something else is wrong. "Fun" Bobby is only surpasses him in uninhibitedness (is that even a word?). But when you remove inhibition, sometimes all you get is Too Much, Too Fast. And while my heart goes out to that guy, I guess what I'm really interested in is the real, "Un-Fun" guy.

Sell Crazy Someplace Else -- We're All Stocked Up Here

In the name of "being more open," one must also be prepared to confront the Crazies who will think the open door is actually just for them. In reality, you wish you could have one of those secure, always locked doors with a small doggie door for only men with the right criteria to fit through -- sort of like that toddlers game where you fit shapes into a big 3-D hexagon . But I've tried the secure locked door thing and it only got me passive men.

Crazy Man will start like any other -- he may ask you out and in the name of being open you might accept. But when the calls and emails exceed 4-5/hour (and mind you, you barely know the guy), it's safe to then append the label. In the words of Big Daddy Kane, "Play like Roy Rogers and SSLLOOOWWW DOWN." Time for a conversation -- which may have to happen face-to-face if he's just not getting it. You can always hope that Crazy Man will become just Weird Man or Socially Clueless Man the more you get to know him, but you should always execute sound judgment of course.

My personal takeaways from Crazy Man: 1-No need to fear, I really can lay down the line. 2-The bar is set pretty low if we're at: I'll date you if I don't fear you. I don't think I'm willing to be *that* open.

The Single Guy, the Dating Guy and the Single-Dating Guy

To make up for lost time, I have a trifecta of issues to present.

Single Guy is maybe the most common. He talks a lot about his need to find a woman. It constantly peppers his casual conversation, his jokes about himself and pretty much everyone around him, and he might even make a flirtatious joke or two -- but he will never ask you out. Single Guy is usually in his 20s, since as I've established before, it's our generation's period of adolescence and insecurity. But sometimes Single Guy is older. Maybe he's gone through something rough and is eager for companionship but scared out of his mind to get rejected.

Dating Guy is also pretty common. His dating life is so active you have trouble keeping up. He changes girls more often than you do your laundry. He has probably flirted with you before, and you've probably crossed his mind since you know just about everyone else has, but he's so busy trying to find someone he can feel like he can take care of, who won't rock his world too much, or just getting thrilled by the chase, that he forgets to ask himself what he really wants. So he remains restless.

Lastly, we all know Single-Dating Guy, but he's a little less common (thank God). He sends signals our way, he might create excuses to take you out one-on-one, he's getting to know you. By all external signs, he's an interesting guy who is initiating with you and has dating on the brain. He might do things like make playful bets as an excuse to take you out. He responds positively to all social initiation you make with him. But like a bad movie twist ending, you eventually find out -- hopefully sooner rather than later -- that Single Guy is actually Single-Dating Guy. He's got a girlfriend that for some reason he neglects mentioning in all of your conversations about "dating in general," in your flirtatious encounters and in your innocent one-on-one get to know you sessions.

As for me, i've been interested in all three at various points in my life. But now I'm 30 and I just refuse to deal with that anymore. I'm looking for That Guy. Rather than listing out a bunch of idealistic criteria -- which I know better now than to do -- I'll settle for now for someone normal with good communication skills, who will ask me out. ;-)

There's No Crying in DJ-ing

To summarize the last absence, here are a few lessons I've learned:
- Being 30 has given me a new sense of boundaries. How oft have I said to myself, "I'm 30, I refuse to deal with _______ anymore." (Blanks could include things like passive aggressives, chaotic rummage sales, immaturity in my living space, self-absorbed men, mean people in general, unmatching socks, etc.)
- There's no crying in DJ-ing. Like baseball, it's predominantly a man's world. Like all things, there are a lot of politics involved. And if you're a woman in a man's world, you'd better be ready to prove yourself.
- We are all motivated to do crazy things by our emotions and desires. Case: I ran a five-mile race because De La Soul was at the finish line with a free concert. Because they are the real thing.
- When one of your best friends starts dating a great guy after 13 years of singlehood, it's a happy day.

Thank God It's 30

There are worse things in life than turning 30. Like turning 29. Unlike I had expected, turning 30 was actually somewhat of a relief. Finally done with the terrible 20s, and again at the bottom of a fresh, new, clean slate of a decade. My friends who made it past the age 27 suicide statistic and actually used their 20s to work out their issues all tell me the 30s are better, and they don't have to tell me twice. Things could really only go up from the dark year of 2003.

So here is the quick and dirty list of lessons learned and words to live by out of that angstful, character-building decade whose 2 prefix will thankfully never start my age off again (unless of course, I make it to 200):
- My friend Doug once said growing up (as with many good things) takes a lot of choice and hard work, it doesn't just naturally happen. True.
- 20s think their minor issues can be worked through in a few heartfelt conversations, 30s know it took them a good few years in counseling (and counting...).
- 20s think they have reached mature adult self-awareness, 30s know they were going through delayed puberty and rebellion.
- Codependence doesn't sound good in theory, and it's worse in reality.
- There is freedom in knowing you're not in control. Especially once you accept that you are a freak.
- Don't do that.
- Life moves pretty fast -- If you don't stop and take care of yourself once in a while, you will miss it (in bitterness, escapism or a desperate need for validation).


Every good event starts with a big bowl of guac.


The Bon Jovi sing-a-long


Blowing out the big 3-0


I'd like to point out the man in the silver wig in back.

He's Just Not Enough For You

I'll admit I'm a little irritated by the Greg Behrendt wave of thinking that has been infiltrating our relationship vocabulary: "He's Just Not That Into You." My irritation, though any man might accuse me is merely because I'm a woman, is because although I'm sure that may be a true cause of many relationships not working out, it is an oversimplification of probably many others. For some, it may be "He's Just Not That Mature," or "He Just Doesn't Know What He Wants," or "He's Just Obsessed With The Chase," or even in some cases "He's Just Too Into You."

As for me, my book might be called "He's Just Not Enough For You" or "Your Priorities Are a Little Out of Whack." The He's in my life have generally been well-intentioned, personable dudes with a great sense of humor, who have been somewhat into me, with about 50% character. First three items check, the following -- which are probably most important -- only check halfway. When it comes to character and values, the glass is never half-full.

Maintaining the Perfect You

"In 50 years you're gonna start doing some thinking on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: One, don't do that. And Two, you dropped 150 grand on a f**king education you coulda got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library." -- Will Hunting

I finally made it to Club 3-0 as of last Friday. All of my 30s friends have given me a warm welcome into the decade, and unanimously have told me, "it's so much better than your 20s." I have no doubt. Instead of the dread and quarter-life crisis I thought might ensue from turning the corner, I feel a sense of relief that a decade of wrestling with who I am and what I'm worth, and getting my heart shat on a few times (though I'm the wiser for it all) is gone - over - never to rear its 2-prefix again.

As I look back on both those topics -- identity and relationships -- my first 30-year-old reflection takes shape. I've seen a lot of different couples over the last decade, and spouses and significant others fall into one of two categories: the real and the ideal.

The real significant other is the one that helps you know and continue to know your real self. They are compatible with you in ways you need, and will challenge you in ways you don't always know you need to be challenged -- and you may or may not like what you see. They hold a mirror up to your face everytime you see them, which on a good day will show you that attractive face with a kind smile, and on a not so good day will show that decaying Dorian Gray side.

The ideal sig other is the one that helps you maintain the perfect image you have of yourself in your very own mind. They feed that ego either in word or deed (or if your ego prefers, both) in either subtle or unsubtle ways -- whichever your issues prefer -- and have effectively catered life to revolve around the most important person in the world: you. The mirror they put in front of your face always displays the same thing: Funny, witty, smart, charming, talented, strong Superyou.

The problem with the ideal is that it is ideal and not real. Underneath that thin layer of false security lies anxiety and a tireless effort to protect everyone else -- and yourself -- from finding out the truth: you are not so ideal after all. The ideal is based on a fantasy and on what you want the world to know about you: Funny, witty, smart, charming, talented, strong.

So thankfully, it hasn't taken me 50 years but 10 to realize that certainty in life: don't do that. And rather than spending the next 10 finding new ways to try to impress people and impress myself, I think I'll get that membership at the real, non-flashy, do-your-research public library.


Image disclaimer: This photo was taken on the set of a movie where the participating actors dated off-screen and resulted in a messy breakup.

The Anti-Crush of the Month

I'm going through a phase where I'm repulsed by men. So what better time to bring up Colin Farrell?

After a vaguely attractive stint as a clean-cut copper on Tom Cruise's tail in Minority Report, which coincidentally was about the last time he was clean period, Colin quickly spiraled into that drunken Irish bad boy image that has won him into the hearts of thousands of trashy women. The paparazzi have caught him in moments of drunken stupor, really bad hair, and right before it's really, really time for that shower (we hope).

I was going to look up his dating history to find some common thread among the women in his life, and then I realized I just don't care. Those would be moments that could be better spent stalking Johnny Depp.


Really, need I say more?

Just One of the Guys

Here's one way to get crossed off of my list...

It's one thing to find out someone you are interested in is just not interested in you. It's another thing to have them divulge details of their love life with his latest girl du jour. Pardon me for not being excited that you cuddled for the first time -- and by the way, do I look like one of your male friends?

The horror is somewhat relieved when he confesses to you his tendency to freak out when it appears a girl is actually interested. Houston, we have a red flag.


"You know what I could really use right now? A Beer."

The Party of Your Past

As time goes on and you're pushing 30, and people -- including yourself -- have gone in and out of relationships as does happen with people, a party of your old friends can start to feel like a history of your messy relationships. Ex-boyfriend with his current woman or wife, his ex with her new man, former awkward friendship man by the punch bowl, guy who sent mixed messages years ago now playing with child, sharing about a common friend, who jilted your one other girl friend. It's all in the family.

Part of what this is is just life. We get into relationships, they work or don't work and you move on. But on a bad day, your single status can push you just over your normal ability to rise above the pool of issues. On a bad day, when you're tired and things have had a chance to build up as they sometimes do, you feel the print left on your insides that says you just weren't worth it. Which in reality is a print left from long before relationship X,Y or Z. And although you would never be that girl who uses a boyfriend to improve her self-esteem, being one of the only singletons there makes you wish you could cheat on that principle just once. And that it could be now. And you wish you could just start all over -- wipe that slate of your past clean, before there was X,Y or Z -- and be totally hopeful again.

But you can't. You can only be totally honest with your friends and with God about your frustration, leave the day's baggage behind, and let the healing continue...in baby steps.

The Mutant in Me

I am a mutant. I may not be Jean Grey or Storm, and I may never get Hugh Jackman to fall in love with me. But my pinkie fingers on both hands are about half the size they should be.

In a larger sense though, I am a mutant because I am a Christian. Like the X-men, there are ways the world sees us as abnormal and wishes, ultimately, that we would just go away. Like the X-men, there are powers available to us -- of healing and transformation, of strength and even sometimes mind-reading -- that we must learn to access and use. And like the X-men, it can feel like a damn lonely existence. People look at you like you're a freak when you tell them, and assume you are a mutant of the worst form: a conservative fundamentalist (isn't that Magneto?).

But a mutant can hold out hope that there's a Wolverine still out there, searching just like she is.

My Pre-Sexual Revolution Needs

I present 3 case-in-point scenarios:
- Taking a day off work a couple of weeks ago with S-dawg, in my tiredness and dread for the next day I found myself confessing: I would so be a stay-at-home housewife. No problem, whatsoever.
- In trying to replace the fluorescent light in my kitchen (which of course requires me at the very top of a step ladder), new bulb in hand, the damn thing just won't work. Must be an electrical wiring issue.
- Upon opening the package of the new doorknob we needed to replace on the front door, I took one look at the 50 pieces and micro-font directions and called my fixes-it-and-loves-it guy friend (not to be confused with boyfriend) to come do it for me. Which he completed in about 30 minutes.
- After carting this and that 40-lb turntable to and fro, and dropping an embarrassing amount of money on a new mixer, my DJ sound issue remains unresolved. Again with the electrical wiring. Thought to self: "Gee, it would be nice if I had a boyfriend (not to be confused with guy friend) who just loved figuring this type of stuff out."

Conclusion: I need a man to change my lightbulbs, be handy around the house, carry my damn heavy equipment, figure out how stuff works, and leave the cooking and caring to me.

What?

In Love with Harold & Kumar

What's hotter than hot?


A. John Cho and Kal Penn

B. The yellow and the brown

C. 2 neurotic-slash-funny second generation Asians

D. Obsessive fast food pilgrimages

ANSWER: ALL OF THE ABOVE

Finish What You've Started...Unless it's a Blog

I have been blog-dead for almost two months, and all I can point to is my doggone tendency to leave things hanging. If my blog was my boyfriend, we'd be over. Luckily, a blog is not a person -- in the same way the other people's blogs are not real people. They are just blogs. They will take you back whenever you are ready, they will never say "no, you can't write that," and they will never call you on whatever bullsh** you're posting.

So after two months of really focusing on skratch, picking up a Rane 56 mixer and a few small things on eBay, I'm ready to come back to you, Bloggie. And like Billy Joel's baby grand, I know you'll be good to me.

The Single Marathon

Mile 1...invigorating. Mile 5...even pace. Mile 10...feeling a little long. Mile 15...must.keep.running. Mile 20...don't think I'm gonna make it. Mile 25...really? only a mile left?

Temp-to-Hire for Full-Time Lovin'

Relationships are a lot like jobs. You search -- sometimes online -- for a listing that interests you. You narrow down the ones that look good at first glance, you apply, and you get hired by one. You have made a commitment to do the job required for that company.

But after a period of time, whether a month or a few years, your relationship starts to form. You are no longer getting acquainted, you are involved and learning the idiosyncrasies -- yay, issues -- you have signed yourself up for. You start asking yourself if you're valued and paid enough, if your hard work and talents are being acknowledged and appreciated, if you just plain don't fit the job. And pretty soon, you become the girlfriend in a status quo relationship with a boyfriend who doesn't abuse her, but he just won't ever give her that ring. The flowers are nice, the dinner out is great. But at a certain point, you realize he can't give you anymore.

Kids, don't let six years pass you by overworked and underpaid. Get a new freakin' job.


Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

The DJ is Taking Requests

One holiday, two weddings, one busted tone arm and several technical difficulties after my last post, I feel I can finally say it: I'm a DJ.

With the mixing of songs and matching of beats almost constantly on my mind over the last few weeks, it has become the perfect analogy to my new approach to dating: Not every song may go well together, but they can at least be beat-matched. I've got an open mind (and dance card) for eligible men in their mid-20s to 30s.

Frozen Hot Man

There is a breed almost every woman encounters at some point in her dating quest. He exudes a certain cool, stable masculinity and more often then not, he's also a looker. For those of you personality test lovers, he is typically a Myers-Brigg ISTJ. He is Frozen Hot Man.

Frozen Hot Man is generally very considerate and dependable. You can count on him to call when he says he will, and you can also depend on him to take care of people and things because he's not just Hot, he's also responsible. FHM is a gentleman, and doesn't generally have to be the center of attention, which makes him all the hotter.

The problem with the FHM though is that he is, in fact, Frozen. Perhaps not relationally -- he can easily engage you in conversation, and do so with a good sense of humor. But two words: emotional repression. He bottles up anger, disappointment and fear like it's vintage wine, and generally runs from conflict surrounding those topics with his ego in tact and his tail between his legs.

For some codependents, the FHM may be a step up from either the High Maintenance Man or the Woman Drug -- at least the FHM is dependable and he is refreshingly uncomplicated. But the F of FHM cannot be ignored for long. And until he can get that F off, he's better left off your list.


Cold...


...or Hot?

R.I.P.A.D.

http://www.never-nude.com/

Read it and weep, fans. Read it and weep.

Festivus For the Rest-of-Us

I have never had anything against Valentine's Day, other than the fact that it seems like the most made-up holiday we have on our calendar year. What event happened where we decided to encourage couples to spend lots of money and attention on the one day of the year?

But as a singleton, I want to know what the Valentine's Festivus is out there. And I'm definitely not talking about getting together all your girl friends for a male-bashing, "I'm a survivor too, Beyonce" night out (please, don't). But our society views singleness as a deplorable condition (a close second to age) -- or at least one to be rid of as soon as possible. Where is the day celebrating people who have kicked codependency, gotten out of an unhealthy relationship, who have been counseled or prayed out of emotionally or physically abusive patterns?

Perhaps that day, like the day for all couples to celebrate eachother, really should be a process happening everyday. Now that's one to grow on...

(For more reading on the history of V-day.)

Note to Self: Must Fall in Love

There are hot guys everywhere. There are even single hot guys to be found. But what's a gal like myself to do when she has a syndrome of falling for the wrong hot guy?

Among the top of my New Year's resolutions this year is to Fall in Love. But as I've sat on that one for the last month, it occurs to me that this is an easier thing said than done. The trouble with love is, you can't will it into existence. That was my lesson for 2003. And after 2004 as my selfish year, I'm ready to re-enter the world of theoretical-but-hopefully-actual-potential companionship. So my words to live by this year are, "WHO KNOWS." Rather than my previous mantra which was more like, "NOT HIM." Sometimes the biggest step for a singleton is just to be open to what may come her way and let the past go -- fantasies, assholes, passives and all.

So if God is the one I know him to be, I'll expect a "parade of animals" coming my way, that I suspect has already begun. Hopefully all of the close-but-not-it men will have made their way through the room and Jake Ryan will have swept me off my feet by December 31.

Arrested Development of my Blog

I've been quite the lazy blogger the last couple of months, swept away in a whirlwind of excuses that include the holidays, road trips, and getting the sack to ante up back onto the wheels of steel. Watch out LA, Mixtine is at it again. (...cricket...)

So since the last time I was bloggally active, I picked up a couple new beaux. Though I'm about three years late (what else is new) to the greatest thing ever to hit TV, I am no less enamored by the immaculately clever writing, sardonic humor and, well, hot men of the most underappreciated dysfunctional family sitcom, Arrested Development. While I have your attention, please take a moment to sign the e-petition to save the show. You will not get spammed, only an email thanking you for your support.

So back to the beaux. January's crush award gets split between brothers Michael and GOB Bluth, played by Jason Batemen (who I've loved since Silver Spoons...okay, no) and Will Arnett (I hate you Amy Poehler...okay, no). I think Michael's super-responsible control freakism and ballsy brilliance of calling his son George Michael makes me feel like there's someone out there to match my own neurosis -- and there is nothing quite like the appeal of a hot nerd. On the other hand, GOB's clueless self-centeredness, male chauvinism and wild-and-crazy-guy magic that masks his heart of boyish gold appeals to my... Well, there is nothing quite like the appeal of a hot funnyman.

So as I recruit one and all to fight the corporate, ratings-driven, heart and humorless Fox execs and the ignorant, unappreciative, brainless masses of which I was just one of, I also fight to keep alive the two alter-egos of my love fantasy. If the show does indeed get cancelled, I'll take it as a sign. Actually, even if it doesn't, I really need to revisit that wrong-sounding sentiment.


The furrowed brow, the bad magic, the crazy family -- it's like they were created for me.

Auld Lang Sign

New Year's Eve is a holiday that's half real, half imaginary. It is indeed the turning of the year, the last day of the year that was, and a celebration of the accomplishment of that. However, it is also a generally overblown night where people feel the need to blow a lot of cash on a really special date.

This year, I celebrated New Year's Eve in Vegas with Kanye West -- gratis, thanks to the LV Food and Beverage Magazine. (Although I did blow a lot of cash at the casino.) And after driving about 600 miles within 48 hours, and screaming my lungs out for two of those hours, it might have been the first time I felt old as I entered the New Year.

Maybe we reach a certain age where the effort to have a good time just doesn't pay off like it used to. I can't remember the last New Year's Eve I had where I just plain kicked it. I've been throwing elaborate parties or skipping town or stalking rappers. This year, I headed to a party of drunk people I mostly didn't know after the concert, and all I wanted to do was go somewhere and sleep. But I got what I wanted for Christmas -- my second free Kanye show of the year, and it sure was worth it.

Happy New Year, people.


My favorite concert moment: When Kanye told us all to sing "Gold Digger" with him, reminding white people that it would be their only chance to say the N word. God, I love that man.


After losing $2 at Keno (plus $120 in craps), 3:30AM. Those are straws coming out of us.

All I Want For Christmas is...Stuff?

Match.com just published it's Top 10 Romantic Gestures of All Time. Regardless of how you feel about Ben's jewel-encrusted toilet seat for J.Lo, Eric Clapton's stealing another rock legend's wife with a song, or one inventor's painfully practical In-Sink-Erator to his dish-dutiful wife, a gift can says a lot about a relationship.

At the time, Richard Burton's multi-million-dollar rock for Liz Taylor may have made many a woman wish he was her knight in shining platinum gold armor. But once they split up, it might be called sadly trying. On the flip side, I know women who pamper their men with niceties often make me wonder if they're playing girlfriend or mother.

So what do people really want from eachother? Like sex, a gift given that is disproportionate to the intimacy that actually exists in a relationship can often be used as a pretense of true love, or even worse, manipulation. Rather than letting a person in and learning to care and even suffer with us (or vice versa), we are content to just convince others -- and ourselves -- that we look loved by what we've gotten. Whether Richard actually loved Elizabeth Taylor either time he married her, or Ben actually gave those rocks to Jennifer as a declaration of how much he truly valued her, I don't know. But dramatic fallouts that rivaled the size of their gifts make me wonder if these were more instances of gift mistaken for love.


Square-cut and pear-shaped are nice, but only a person is a best friend.

Facing Your Femm-esis

There comes a time when every woman must meet her femme-sis. The femme-sis is the anti-you, who has yet somehow managed to become your ex's next. She is (in your mind) the vixen who unkindly deceived your former man into thinking she was his dream come true. She has the agility and speed of a panther, the cunning of a fox, the venom of a python.

But actually meeting Ms. Thing is a different matter. And if you don't come in ready for it, it could send you into a state of confusion. But if you've done your homework and worked through your issues first -- while confrontation is an inevitable part of the healing process, it musn't be rushed -- and you're good and ready, a few things may happen.

1. Toxic Shock Syndrome - Either she really is or she really isn't as bad as she was in your dreams. Either way will come as somewhat of a shock, because in most cases, she will still not be what you expected (few humans have three heads). You will inevitably compare yourself to her, as much as you don't want to. You will try to find new reasons to hate her.

2. Rejection Relapse - Some find themselves in shorter or longer periods of this stage, whereby the differences between self and femme-sis have been documented and entered into the unanswerable rat wheel of "why her and not me." You must wrestle through all of your insecurities, competitive tendencies and general lack of reason in order to get through this one. Some skip this stage, and on the other hand some never emerge.

3. Ex-Evaluation - Because you have acquired new data, it is important -- as with all sciences -- to draw some new conclusions: A new lineup of pet peeves, a new list of "I'll never be with a man who ______" statements, and if you've been dealing with your own junk like a good woman does, a reinforced peace of mind because you've finally let go.

There's Something About Johnny

For once I'm not talking about Johnny Depp. I've found another.

I've always admired Johnny Cash from afar, knowing as much about him and his music that fellow sound-obsessed friend Tmas would naturally effuse whenever given the opportunity. I just knew he was a troubled soul, and when all is said and done, one bad M.F. (Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good.)

Then I saw Walk the Line, the biopic I just pre-raved about in previous Sexiest Man Alive post below. I should clarify that when I say "Johnny," in this particular case it's the embodiment of two hot men, Johnny-plus-Joaquin. No disrespect to either Joaquin or the Man in Black himself, but it's the meeting of the hot with the cool that made for one mesmerizing man. I never thought Joaquin would achieve the status of late brother River in my mind and heart, but this was the role that pushed him over the line for me. Maybe it was the acting, maybe it was the vulnerability in wild outlaw turned church boy, maybe it was those songs -- "steady like a train, sharp like a razor" -- whatever it was, I'm wearing black today.


Men in Black

Sexiest Man Alive, Schmexiest Schman Aschlive

People has just named smarmy badboy Matthew McConaughey as 2005 Sexiest Man Alive. Let's have a moment of silence.

In a year where sexiest boy next door Jake Gyllenhaal came out (no pun intended) with a double feature season, sexiest man on Broadway Taye Diggs reprised his role in Rent, the movie, sexiest rapper/producer Kanye West released his sophomore album with close a million sold in the first week, and sexiest biopic actor Joaquin Phoenix played coolest dead country singer Johnny Cash -- I'm sorry, but no.

It should also be noted that Tom Cruise, a former SMA winner, did not appear at all on this year's list. Gee.


Boyish.
Debonair.
Cool.
Uh...no.

The High-Maintenance Man

Some may mistakenly equate him with the Metrosexual. But although the High-Maintenance Man (heretofore referred to as the HMM) is often also a Metro, he is not defined merely by the same superficial qualities regarding style and self-care. To clarify, the HMM is not necessarily a primper -- but he's definitely high-maintenance in a relationship.

Who is he? He's particular, a bit moody, used to being somewhat catered to (HMMs are often youngest childs), a man of strong opinions about most everything, often discerning and intuitive -- as they themselves are generally sensitive to others' needs and expectations. He often has a thoughtful, introspective side -- more of an idealist than a practical "let's make this work" man. He often has a way with the ladies, because he thinks so much like most women.

He is Annakin Skywalker, Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck, or at his worst, Tom Cruise.

The initial draw of the HMM is his sensitivity, and his ability to relate to the HMW (HMWs are a dominant group of the female gender). We feel known by him, we feel like he "gets" us. When he shares some pet peeve or neurosis, we respond with "oh my god, me too!" But like many people, his strength is his weakness. Like the HMW, he is bothered by particular things for reasons only he can identify (or sometimes not). He may need pampering if the wrong button is pushed. And depending on his own development, he may check out relationally for something you said or did that you had no idea would have that effect. The mature HMM (reality check: this is a rarity) will communicate through the neuroses, the less-mature will simply bail and find another playmate. He also is prone to playing mind games, though he may not intend or call it as such.

Low-Maintenance Women attracted to High-Maintenance Men is usually a combo that works well. But if you're an HMW attracted the HMM, compatibility gets a little more complicated. Once you're gotten past those easily identifiable flags -- Does he lie? No. Does he have the same values? Yes. Is he a codependent people-pleaser, slash needy for the affirmation of women? No. -- where do you go from there? Is one relationship just too small for two high-maintenance personalities? Is there just too much sensitivity and neurosis in that equation? Is the attraction really just an ego trip -- they're the guys most like us girls, making me still at the center?

The union of the HMW to the HMM is not an impossibility. But if you are in one of those high-maintenance/high-maintenance relationships, you must be healthy enough to deal with conflict and heed the warning signs. If you're playing Mommy and your needs have gone out the window, it's time to re-evaluate.


Yeah, NO.

Holy Crap

Between random tree trunks, a rotten grilled cheese sandwich and dirty underwear stains, I'm officially sick of the damn "I swear it's the face of Jesus and the holy mother Mary hidden in the fizz on that beer billboard" news. Granted, I've never been one to see the images on those teal mottled collages or even constellations other than the Big Dipper (iffy). But come on, people.


I'm sorry, is that Tupac Shakur?

For the Love of the DJ

If you're one of those who is in constant search for the perfect dance floor, I'm here to tell you Eureka, I've found it. Over the weekend I had the priviledge of watching my Scratch Academy profs Mr. Choc and DJ Hapa spin the 1s and 2s to create one of the most killer sets I've heard in a while. Choc had the real hip-hop covered, switching decades faster than you could say "I love this song," while Hapa went One DJ Fits All with everything from the Marvin Gaye to Snoop Dogg, to New Order to Bon Jovi -- he very well could have been digging into my own music collection. It was hot, hot, hot. They both nodded warm hellos to their former pupil-slash-girl who couldn't leave the dance floor, and she left inspired to hit those 1200s with renewed vigor.

To love it for yourself, Choc and Hapa will be DJing the gig known as "The Bridge" every fourth Saturday of the month at Little Temple Bar in Silver Lake.

Oh, and I might mention to the other ladies that it was nice and laid back on the vibe factor. Meaning no annoying Butt Man trying to freak you. There were even small clusters sans men that could enjoy the groove undisturbed. Major plus.

That Girl

Whether or not I ever get married or even date again, I have made a personal commitment never to become That Girl. And aside from what the whole of society might tell you, being single does not mean sacrificing your self-respect. And so, with you as my witnesses, I inwardly vow not to be...

- The Gwyneth: Wears retail as a security blanket. Clad in name brand and with nary a hair out of place, that girl is better dressed than most of the marrieds (or women period) at a party.

- The Bridget: Considers singleness a sickness. Casually peppers conversation with mention of her age and singlehood as if it were the plague. Awkward pause.

- The Angelina: The unattainable "other" woman, and she likes it that way. Flirts with all of the unavailable men (whether matrimonially or otherwise) and mostly ignores the singletons, then complains about there being no good guys out there.

- The Patricia: Warning -- prone to self-explosion. Talks endlessly about the important people she's connected with and cutting edge things she's involved in, hides how she really feels about herself behind her busy-ness.

- The Katie: Worships the studs of Hollywood fantasydom. Wants Richard Gere (or - er - Tom Cruise) to whisk her idealized Julia Roberts self on a white steed, a la Pretty Woman. Coos and cries how "The Notebook" was the greatest depiction of true love ever in film.

So how exactly to avoid becoming That Girl is a tricky matter. Unfortunately, frowning upon the women who do and are the aforementioned is actually not enough -- there are little bits of her in all of us. We cling to fantasy and affirmation for security and material possession for escape (or vice versa). But take a good long moment every so often to ask yourself what girl you really want to be, pray for a little understanding about perseverance and hope, and you're off to a good start.

Men for Sale -- Everything Must Go!

The older you get, the more your singleness starts to feel like a blowout sale.

When you start out, you are browsing for selection. This one looks better, this one fits better, this one seems nice but is way overpriced. Then items start to clear out. Some bought their sought-after mate at full price early on, so as not to lose him or her. Some looked around a while, buying and returning once or twice, then settled on someone at a fair value. But like all sales, the momentum picks up with time. Prices drop, selections grow more scarce -- especially the ones in your size -- and you need to jump in and grab before someone else does. Browsing has now become a frenetic search for what you want, and the clock is ticking.

If you're picky, like me, and must have everything just so before making a purchase -- material, washability, durability and a decent price -- the shopping spree can start to feel like a real drag. It's hard enough to find something you're prepared to invest in. But when he gets snatched right off the shelf in front of your nose, it can be very disheartening.

It's tempting then to walk out with nothing and toss in the towel. And that's okay. But a relationship is no superfluous extra jacket or pair of shoes. If it's something you really want and you walked in ready to buy (with no bad credit hanging over your head), eventually you've gotta pull out that checkbook and walk back in again. The clearance section may run out, but you never know when the new season's stock will arrive.

The Younger Man

For women, considering dating a younger man is not the same as a man dating a younger women. Some women claim that it's because men develop emotionally more slowly (read: are less mature) than women. But there are also other reasons.

The last thing a woman wants to do in a relationship is raise her boyfriend. In some ways, this will be inevitable. There is a fairly universal cluelessness that men are born with in certain areas -- they usually require a little coaching in sensitivity and sometimes social graces. Don't get me wrong -- some of us love to do this. With nurturing in our nature, we love to take care of our men in ways that are appropriate in a good symbiotic relationship. But when you get to the level of "stop pouting and shutting down" or "did you know a relationship involves two people?" and it's not getting any better, the age thing only weighs in on the feeling that your boyfriend has suddenly become your son.

So what's a girl to do when she's pushing 30 and the eligible men her age and up are dropping like flies? Well if you're Demi Moore, you're way beyond pushing 30 and you dive headfirst into that pool of you-could-be-my-son. Some never can break out of thinking anyone 27 and younger as bordering on illegal. And others will start to widen that door that previously only let a stray mid-20-er float through as someone who could make it on the 3-5 year plan. Only this gets complicated, because everyone has their own unspoken threshold of how old or young they will really go. And every person at age twenty-something is not at the same place of, well, emotional development (read: maturity).

I'll tell you this: There's nothing to push a single woman from 29 straight into mid-life crisis like a younger man making a jab at her age. And he's like 26. Dude, it's all relative.


Yippee-cay-ay, M.F.

The Ex Factor

Now I don't lose my place like I used to
I'm not moved by your artful display
You can't draw me in like you used to
But you can still ruin my day
-- Jon Brion

What is it about the Ex that seems to come back, even years after issues have been worked through, lessons have been learned -- at least within yourself -- and you've moved on? You meet his new girlfriend, he breaks up, he gets married... Depending on how you are doing at the moment you hear the news, it can still put a real damn damper on your day. If you're secure in your identity and the knowledge that you are loved by God, you're at a solid, "Good for him." On the other hand, if the issues of long term singleness have newly been stirred by something or you're just plain have a bad week for poor self-image, you can be back to, "Is there really justice in this world?"

The Relationship Really Did Happen
Even more interestingly, as you are on this vulnerable road, all manner of responses come out of those around you, especially when your friendship circles intersect. Denial - "Laugh and pretend things are normal, and they will be." Awkwardness - "If I avoid eye contact, maybe we don't have to deal with this for a while." Fear - "Who are you again?" Avoidance - "Let's just have an unspoken agreement that the other person doesn't exist." Meanwhile, a simple acknowledgment of the obvious is all it usually takes to break the weirdness and make a person feel like they aren't going crazy.


The Healing Process
There is an ebb and flow to getting over the Ex factor. The initial waves are more like a roller coaster -- riding high one week, on the verge of despair the next. But as time goes on and emotions get healed (not repressed), the waves are gentler and the lows more far between. Then eventually, you get to the point where it's no longer about time or distance, but purely about your own ability to let go of whatever litter remains of the debris that was your breakup.

The Hope
I believe now more than ever that it is possible to fully heal from the Ex factor. I'm well down that road myself. However, it doesn't mean it will never stop being weird that a person you once shared so much with has by the necessity of appropriateness becomes less than an acquaintance. The fully healed no longer take it personally and stop wondering what could have been. In the furthest along of cases, relief and joy actually replace it.

There Are No Good Women Out There

No, I haven't become a lesbian. But the phrase, "There are no good guys out there" is one that we've all heard somewhere before, and if you're a woman, you've probably said it at least once. I was once an avid user of the phrase myself, starting late high school and peaking at about age 22. When all is said and done, I was a habitual user for about half my life, really.

But two years ago, the dark year happened. It was my second year of counseling and things were really picking up momentum, especially since it coincided with a non-boyfriend situation that taught me how bad a girl's issues can blind her to the obvious (this is a lesson we women must learn at least three times before actually getting). As a result, I have started to see the -- er -- one-sidedness of that catch-phrase, which often operates as a crutch for women with some form of big fat relationship fear or a pretty comparable sized lack of self-awareness. So here is my letter of apology to single men at large, washed down with a gulp of pride:

Dear Men,
This is a confession. Women have issues. We sometimes judge you by impossible to meet standards. Or worse yet, expect good things out of emotionally unavailable men when the emotionally available are totally out there initiating, then call you all "no good" (isn't that stereotyping?). We acknowledge that several factors in the last couple of decades have increased the challenge for men -- the rise of feminism and an increase in dad issues has blurred lines of who initiates and when, what's too much and what's too little, put the responsibility for our self-worth and well-being unfairly into your hands, and overall just not cut you much slack. This doesn't excuse passivity, selfishness, egotism and certainly not dishonesty, but it does acknowledge that 1. not all of you are like that and 2. for every man with any of the above issues, there is a woman to toy with your mind, blow you off for reasons you don't understand and are not communicated to you, or play into your issues by squelching her own identity and not being real with you. And that warrants an honest to goodness apology.

Yours truly (because "Love" would be too gray and undefined),
A Sympathetic (but not a sucker) Woman

P.S. Actually, the one that would really get me if I were in your shoes -- okay, it pisses me off even not being in your shoes -- are those girls who will fool you into believing they are your dream woman and then treat others that are close to you like shit because they feel threatened by them. My advice would be to heed the warning signs and back away from this particular type. That's a mind game you can't win.

Losing His Virginity

The very title of the movie "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" left me at a loss for words when I first heard it. The obvious implication is of course that there really is no one out there who hasn't had sex by age 40. There's also the suggestion that if you haven't done it by age 40, you are either a closeted something or other, or there is clearly something wrong with you. The fact of the movie was a sign of the times.

The movie itself suprised me though. Yes, it had its share of gratuitous graphic sex jokes and a clear anti-PC thrust of men moving back to their beer 'n' lust caveman roots. But Andy the virgin wasn't half the nerd-slash-loser the billboards and previews made him out to be. Rather, he was quite a relateable -- and it should be noted, highly unusual these days -- man who had learned to fill his life with things other than an obsession with sex. I even found myself cheering a bit at the end, though with mixed feelings about the message of the overall film. It clearly confirmed my own read that our culture has flushed whatever shred of sanctity of marriage and sex existed even 15 years ago down the fungus-y, pond-scummy gutter and that abstinence is officially the new dirty word.

In a recent article on the celibate celebrity, the rarity of the virgin is discussed. When it comes to the industry, it's hard to say what came first -- did Britney lose her virginity in an act with her ex-pubescent boyfriend, or was her innocence already kaput from her "I'm not that innocent" moves on the big stage? Somewhere between my teens, when it was a really big friggin' deal that Brenda did it with bad boy Dylan on 90210, and today, when we see parents cheering on their kids for giving it up on The O.C., something went more than a little out of control. The problem is, people are also more depressed, have lower self-esteem and are more confused about their identity than ever. It's all so f-ed up. Literally.