Single Person Pet Peeve

Over the past few years, I have found myself the victim of email forwards of a certain kind that tops my pet peeve list: dating advice. Friends, family, journalists, Oprah -- everyone seems to feel the need to give their advice about settling or never settling, having standards or letting them go, having more self-respect or being more accomodating, and on and on and on. Really, there are a few basic principles on repeat over and over again -- all things I've learned myself from firsthand experience, and things that anyone struggling with can only learn the hard way. I have one response: Delete.

No disrespect to the writers and people out there who want to pass on the gospel message of freedom from codependence or independence or whatnot, and you might argue I'm doing the same thing with my blog. The problem is, singleness is a similar-but-different experience for everyone, and the person who is a right match for any one person will fit different criteria for each. That's the blankin' dilemma of it all -- there's no knowing for sure if something will work out until it works out. If only it was as easy as following the Greg Behrendt or Oprah set path where we could at least know for sure which direction we were headed. And while I appreciate the good intentions of all those giving advice, and I'm a strong believer in seeking input from those you trust and respect, I also believe that there is an equally large degree we just need to work it for ourselves. And if or when the time comes for me, I'll be calling those trusted friends, not Mr. Behrendt.

The Problem with Beyonce

Just as people claim "you are what you eat," one might also argue "you are who you like." Meaning, I think the people we are attracted to say a lot about who we are underneath it all. For example, my past preoccupation with emotionally unavailable men who couldn't commit said that I was actually too afraid of a real relationship to find someone who was actually capable of one, and that I was more concerned with getting some sense of validation from getting Mr. Hard-to-Get.

The other day, a friend of mine shared that she had been realizing a subtle form of discrimination that she has encountered since choosing to be a part of communities and ministries that consist mostly of people not her ethnic group. Though there is much talk about racial reconciliation, her observation was that there are few who have considered her or other Black women as romantic options, revealing a level of racism still there. And understandably: well-known Black celebrity beauties like Beyonce or Tyra Banks look very little like the average Black woman, and have more European features they purposefully accentuate.

As we chatted, I realized that the "personal preference" card only can be played to a certain level in the game of dating. What lies underneath that is our issues and what we really value. My heart broke for my friend's experience of being unseen by the majority of men in her life. It also made me realize again how much our culture -- specifically here in L.A. -- worships the idols of beauty on the big screen. No average woman -- Black, white, Asian or otherwise -- will ever measure up. Sure, we all escape to the movies sometimes and admire the Brad Pitts and Angelina Jolies from afar for their very un-average looks and overall charm or image. But how many of us remember who they really are when we leave the theater: a man who justified breaking his marriage vows in infidelity and a woman with some serious Dad issues? In our world, a pretty face and a nice body cover a multitude of sins.

It can be disheartening to see the men around us who claim to love things that are real and lasting, but are actually fixed on fantasy crushes or ideals that have little to do with the real life mess we actually all are. And women do it too. It sucks either way. But despite that totally accepted idolatry that exists around us, I believe that God can do anything, and is the champion of those that the world overlooks. What man intends for evil, God intends for good. Someone -- not Brad Pitt or Christian Bale -- may still come along someday and see me for who I really am. And really like it.


(I looked through scores of photos online and could not find a one of Beyonce with her natural hair.)

Channeling My Inner '80s Geek

Last night I did the best thing I'll do all summer. I went to Diablo Cody's film showcase at the New Beverly Cinema, featuring one of my all-time favorite movies, "Pretty in Pink."

If I could pick two words to capture the golden era of movies from my youth, they would be JOHN HUGHES. 20 years after first falling in love with the Brat Pack and their pre-Gen-X angst, I'm amazed at how these movies hold up. Why? John Hughes is one great writer who gets people. He is unmatched in his ability to take ridiculous high school drama, where the most important things in life have to do with ditching school and going to prom, and put round characters set in real social contexts with real family issues and make you give two cents about what happens to them. Granted, it helps if you have a penchant for good quality sap like I do.

The best part of last night was before the movie showing, when Diablo and special guest Jon Cryer (Duckie Dale fans given permission to freak out now) did some Q&A about the film. I learned the Molly Ringwald had a crush on Robert Downey Jr. at the time and hoped he would get the role instead of Cryer. I learned they actually filmed the *real* way fans know the film was supposed to end, but it didn't work so well with Ringwald's stomach flu. I learned that Trax was actually right on Third Street Promenade, the then-void lot of empty storefronts. And I learned that Jon is just as funny and relateable in real life as his Duckie was.

Then, watching the movie, I was reminded of why I loved it so. I have always identified with the outcast-hero that is so celebrated in the John Hughes canon. Andie Walsh and Duckie Dale, like Keith and Watts, or John Bender or Farmer Ted or Cameron Frye, represented to me then that the one who didn't have it all could still win something in the end. I will always be more Andie Walsh than Amanda Jones (pardon the mixed movie metaphor), and I embrace that. I just haven't found my devoted Duckie Dale yet.


Best scene: Anyone who would do a little Otis deserves to get the girl.

The Dark Knight

Every superhero movie starts with a normal guy. Last night, I saw the much anticipated new Batman movie, "The Dark Knight." With hero Batman on one side and villain Joker on the other, both victims of pain and loss, the movie explores what happens to people after they suffer. It also suggests that we have a choice in the matter. If there's one thing Batman teaches us, it's that our pain never just disappears in a vacuum, the way we wish it would.

Towards the end of the movie, the Joker poignantly comments that madness is like gravity - it just takes a little push for it to come tumbling down. And as I watched characters in this fictitious world respond in very non-fictitious ways to loss in their lives, I felt glad that we have been given a way out of madness. And in the real world, it doesn't come down to me biting the bullets of pain that sometimes hit, it comes down to where I go with that pain. Though few of us process by wearing freaky makeup and engaging in sociopathic behavior, or donning an animal costume to fight crime, we all process in some way. What do we do with the pain of emotionally absent fathers, mothers who have abandoned us, loved ones lost in tragedy, estranged relationships, broken hearts or hopes completely dashed?

Lately I've been looking around and seeing a lot of rubble -- the remaining schrapnel of my own past and those around me. Gone are the days of youthful idealism, where the future is full of opportunity and possibility. Real life can leave some real scars, and even knowing that anything can happen, I have been aware of the surgery and stitches needed in some of the deeper places of my heart. And in real life with real God, pain is no less real and loss doesn't magically undo itself.

But miraculously, all things can be redeemed. I see it in my own life and I see it in good friends around me who are choosing to wrestle with God and let him give new hopes and new dreams to replace the ones lost. Though we are all mid-process, I'm hanging on the edge of my seat for the dawn that always follows a dark night. I hear it's better than any Hollywood happy ending our human minds can conjure.

A Good Mix is Forever

I popped a CD mix I had made for my sister a few years ago entitled, "Waiting for Somebody." It had been so long since I'd listened to it or thought about it, I forgot what was on it. So I found each song a delight -- clearly they are all songs I love since I had created the mix. Some of them I hadn't heard in years, others I had forgotten about entirely. So there I was driving on the 60 singing things like Sinead O'Connor, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Cocteau Twins and Neil Finn at the top of my lungs.

As I listened to the lyrics of songs I had carefully put together years ago to encourage my sister, I found myself also encouraged. It's been a long time since I've been in the phase of hearing God sing me love songs. But by the time I hit Nina Simone's "My Baby Just Cares For Me," I was actually struck by God's own love for me, that isn't concerned about anything else that can seem so important to the rest of the world, "Liz Taylor is not his style, and even Lana Turner's smile is something he can't see; my Baby don't care who knows, my Baby just cares for me."

I felt emboldened to reclaim strength in my singleness. The longing of a single person is to know the experience of being fully loved, just as they are. And their fear is that no one will ever love them in that way. So what have I got to worry about?

The Power of Promise

I have been thinking lately of the words "promised land." It has become a phrase specifically associated with Old Testament Bible stories of Israel wandering in the desert for 40 years, or as a vague symbolic notion in Christendom. But in the day-to-day struggles of not knowing what is to come, the words have been on my mind lately. There is something amazing about the concept: There is a land of promise of something better that God intends for us. A promise can be so real as to be a land -- a place to live and experience and be.

I don't have a bad life right now. I can't complain of a stable, enjoyable job, the ability to pursue DJ-ing as a creative expression on the side, or longtime friends who know me and love me. But there are days I fear that I have hit adulthood normalcy, and there is no more to look forward to. Is the rest of my life just to be more of the same? One long road of working and some nice extra-curricular activities? A life with no promise of something better quickly loses its meaning. It's the promised land, both in this life and the one to come, that gets me through the day. Though I don't know what exactly it holds, or what that place will be like, I know it will be good.

Ghetto Girl

I just had one of the most pleasant Fourth of Julys I've had in years. I spent the day catching up on sleep and doing next to nothing, then on a whim went to the fireworks show at the Coliseum with my roommate. After parking in a totally red zone (with the hundred other cars breaking the law) and gathering on the Natural History Museum's dying lawn with a couple hundred mostly Black and Latino families from our hood (freely launching their own illegal pre-show firecrackers) we watched 30 minutes of fireworks set to the cheesiest Americana you could dig. We then drove along the 10 to get In-N-Out burgers, with fireworks from celebrations all over lighting our way. It was a very L.A. Fourth.

As both of us shared about some of the blues we brought into the day -- memories of ex-dates in years past, current friends in hard times, and our own things we're getting through -- I was grateful again for quiet days like this one and friends to share it with. I've had a lot of reflective moments this year, and tonight, as I enjoyed the hood culture that has become so familiar to me over my 10 years living here, I realized that this hood has become my home.

Revelation of the Obvious

I'm sure a large contributor was sheer tiredness -- adding a full-time job to a part-time DJ lifestyle and other extracurricular commitments is turning out to be quite the adjustment. Maybe another factor was DJ-ing a wedding of a couple a few years younger than myself, and seeing the future of weddings I'll attend and/or DJ: I have gone from attending weddings of those older than me, to those who are my peers, and now am in the stage where most I'll attend will be those younger. And maybe another factor was the continuous vacant landscape that is my dating life, try as I might to resuscitate it.

Whatever the reasons, the thing that hit me with a wave of emotion this weekend was this: I want to get married someday. Yes, after three years of blogging about singleness, what may be obvious to all but myself became clear to me over the weekend. Although I never would have denied that meeting someone and getting married would be nice, I never wanted to be that girl who was pining away for some man to make her complete, and perpetuating the ridiculous notion that relationships and marriage are the end-all, be-all of human existence. And since I'm almost constantly surrounded by people who at least partially (if not completely) believe that, it has been easy for me to swing the other way as my own little "F-you" to the world.

But as the best man gave a toast over the weekend to his friend, and recalled the moment he stated frankly that he was in love with this lovely woman who became his wife, something got through that protective barrier I like to keep around my heart and I felt a tear escape. Because in addition to swallowing my pride and admitting I too would like what is good about dating and marriage, I must also wrestle with my own fear: the possibility that I'll never get there. And in a way, it was the first time I really confronted that that could very well be the case.

Now that it's out there, I feel freed up even in the midst of processing what's unpleasant about all that. I still believe that if I were to be single my whole life, I really would be okay and maybe save me a lot of drama and heartbreak if I were to have made a decision into something God didn't intend. But as I am now more fully aware of my own self and desires, I can wake up tomorrow morning ready to process and learn to hope from a more honest place.

What Kind of Married Are You?

Over the last 10 years of my life, I've been to many weddings and seen many friends "become one" with their spouses in different ways. In the same way that there are personality and "what kind of drunk are you" tests all over magazines and the internet these days, I wonder what kind of married I would be.

As I look around at some other single friends who have similarly thrown their share of rice for their friends, I realize I have a luxury of knowing people who will always value reaching out to others. It was true when they were single, and it continues to be true in marriage. So though life has brought them through different seasons -- marriage, babies, children -- I am grateful that I have those friends that continue to be in my life, and communicate that my friendship as a single person is just as valuable as that of another married. I know some have lost almost all contact with their married friends, further impressing on us the unnecessary barrier between married and single people.

I understand that sometimes we grow apart from people we were once close with as God takes us into new things and new community experiences. I also know some personalities only have so much social energy to expend before they just need to shift into down time. But if marriage is in the cards for me someday -- which it may or may not be -- I have decided that for my own health and sanity, I hope to be the kind that breaks down walls between singles and marrieds, and reminds my single friends that marriage is no fantasy where all of your wildest dreams come true. And that I still need them. As a single person, it has been invaluable to me to have a window into real married life to help shatter those false images of fantasy that have so been indoctrinated in us.

Of course, if I never get married, there is no such issue to resolve. I'll add that to my singleness "pros" list.

The Younger Girl

I have never thought of myself as old. Turning 30 was a suprisingly celebrative time for me, despite the way our culture has somehow deemed it the beginning of the end. I have never felt like my age would be a factor in whether or not some guy might be interested in me.

Although I hope that that is still true, I have found myself having an internal gag reflex when I hear about eligible guys in my age group hooking up with early 20-somethings. I remember back to when I was that age and thought I had it all together but was actually right mid-adolescence. Then it's hard for me to believe that there are many exceptions to that life process development timeline. And then I lose respect for the guy, but not without feeling a little frustrated at the same time that I'm at the point in my life where, as few as my options are, my pool is now further diminished by guys who are down with the younger woman. She's more impressionable, less opinionated, and I suppose has a few more child-bearing years on her.

I'm tryin' here, but it's hard not to be disheartened. I quote When Harry Met Sally, "It's not the same for men -- Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73." Sigh. Sally, I too will be 40...someday.

The End of Alone?

Today is the last day of my unemployment sabbatical. It's been a wonderful 13 months and 2 weeks. Tomorrow morning marks a new day, and I imagine a new chapter in my life.

I think if I were to characterize my time off, I could describe it simply with the word "alone." The last few years, God has been teaching me what it means to be stripped of my dependence on people: what they think, the power they have to extend opportunity to me or not, their validation or love of me, and the list goes on. And this last year has completed something in my ability to be comfortable in being alone.

I think I have seen aloneness as a season or phase in my life currently, and perhaps it is. But I wonder if aloneness is just what we will always feel in some way in this lifetime. It is the aloneness of only seeing reality in part right now, of only being able to know the perfect intimacy of God in part, of experiencing every good thing in part or in instances. I see in myself and in so many around me the urge to put an end to their "aloneness" in another person. But we have all felt alone even in the presence of those closest to us at times.

I'm trying to embrace (and not fearfully run from) being alone right now. Some days it is a wonderful, freeing feeling. Others it can feel like an indefinite loneliness, and I can only find solace in letting God remind me that he sees and remembers me. Either way, I'm doing everything I can to hold onto hope that one day the partial good stuff we experience now will be a full, no-holds-barred, nothing-lacking kind of good, that I'm promised does not disappoint.

The Grey Zone

In this day and age of post-feminism and whatnot, it can be hard to figure out healthy, cross-gender friendship. Especially because almost everything attraction-oriented goes unspoken, as already discussed in The Available Sign.

Sometimes, it's easier than others. It's hopefully clear if the guy is married (though sadly this is not always the case) or if there is clearly no attraction on either side. Everything else can potentially be a sticky area...or what I'm calling the Grey Zone. I hate the Grey Zone for the exact same reasons I hate all things where we can't just be clear and upfront with what's going on. There are plenty of single cross-gender friendships that exist in the Grey Zone, and much of the time one person doesn't even know it. Sometimes both people know it, but don't know the other person knows it. And sometimes, both people know it and choose to remain in it because they have issues. I won't bother to waste much time on this dynamic - it is an unhealthy situation that two consenting adults choose to be in, which means only they choose to get out.

The Catch 22 with the Grey Zone is that when dealing with unspoken feelings, we are relying entirely on our own ability to intuitively read a situation -- which no one can do with complete accuracy, and most people can't do at all if their own feelings are involved. And with men and women being as generally clueless as they are about how the other operates (see letter of 2005), sometimes you get one big, fat mess. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

So how to best approach the Grey Zone? As someone who has had more than enough Grey Zone fun for this lifetime, my plea is mostly to the same gender friends out there. If you see a Grey Zone in their life, love your friend enough to ask the awkward question, to suggest they follow more strict boundaries or even initiate a conversation with their possibly attracted friend to get clarity and either start or end something...before someone gets really invested and really hurt. Unfortunately, sometimes hurt is inevitable. But I also believe drama is avoidable.

Chosen or Loser?

I love watching award shows. I'm a sucker, not just because I'm somewhat obsessed with entertainment, but because the actors that have become characters on screen that have reached into my emotions and pulled something out are receiving acknowledgment for being my vicarious heroes. My favorite speeches are always the ones where the least expected gets the award. The actor or actress attempting to give a speech in the midst of authentic shock has always had a place in my heart.

This week, I got a job. And I felt like what Sarah Jessica Parker said accepting her first Emmy for Sex and the City, "I've never won anything in my life!" Although getting a job is a far cry from getting a Grammy or Oscar, I had a realization about why I find the underdog speech so compelling: I completely relate. In the week leading up to my hearing from my prospective employer, I found myself rationalizing every reason why I wouldn't get the job. I wondering if I wanted it enough for God to want to give it to me. I kept remembering the other two companies that seemed so positive about me, then let me know I wasn't selected in the end. I reminded myself how bad the job market is and how great the competition now -- where good friends of mine with great talent and experience are still jobless.

So when I got the phone call and the deal was sealed a day later, it forced the shock to the surface. Why was it so suprising to me that I would get something I wanted and needed? As I think about this question, I look over the last five months of this year with gratefulness and more than a little awe. There are many reasons why I know this year will stand out as a landmark year in my life. Beginning with great tragedy and grief that will continue to linger in some form always, I also found myself just a few months ago in a transitional void: no job, no gigs, no forseeable end to my singleness. But not even halfway through the year, I find that two of those three areas in my life are extravagantly provided for -- by no control or orchestration of my own.

It is difficult to see myself in general as someone chosen. This last key area of my life -- of the three, the biggest area of issues and failure in my life historically -- is one where that holds particularly true. But as I thank God ("the Academy," if we're going with the analogy) for taking care of me when I least expected it, I can start to hope that just maybe I am also the girl that gets the guy in the end.

On Not Being That Girl

Speaking of That Girl, and coming to terms with not being her, I have also come to terms with the fact that there are many things I am not that many men are into. If we're talking about traditional gender types, I'm not the most girly girl out there. Rather than getting gushy over romantic comedies, I find most of them annoying or even offensive. And though I'm fine with initiating and sending signals of interest and enjoyment of a person, I can't shamelessly throw myself at them the way most girls do and respect myself in the morning. Over the years, I've learned to be responsible and take care of myself, but also don't want to be any guy's mom -- a role many women will gladly assume in exchange for a life-long boyfriend. I'm a DJ -- and last I checked, that was a largely male-dominated field (though the stats are slowly changing on that).

Perhaps I display more self-sufficiency or confidence than is comfortable for most men. I think at times, my speaking my mind has gotten me into trouble or put me in a box -- with both men and women. Many men want a damsel in distress, who can make them feel like a hero or savior. Others want the opposite -- someone who will cook them meals and set their calendars for them. And still others seem to want the hottest girlfriend trophy. As for me, I think Billy Joel said it best, "I just want someone that I can talk to." But as a girl with such varied interests and opinions as I have, I realize that is easier said than found.


"Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a f***ed-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind." -- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

That Girl

I have an odd ability to make myself the target of That Girl.

That Girl is most succinctly defined as the opposite of me in almost every way. She is generally very well put-together, usually more attractive than me, is incredibly insecure and has some need to find validation from a guy I'm somehow involved with -- whether romantically or not. Although I may try to be friendly to That Girl in a respectful, but non-ass-kissing way (I'm not a big ass kisser, which sometimes ends up hurting me), I somehow get into the line of target for That Girl's latest crazy-fest. She's sizing me up, she's critiquing me for being friendly with guys the way I'm friendly with girls, she's trying to one-up me in a contest I never signed up for and, frankly, don't understand.

The baffling thing about That Girl is that I can't get rid of her. When one goes away, another appears somewhere to create annoyance or unnecessary drama. Whatever may be said about my own issues, I sure am glad I'm not That Girl.

Just Not That Into Him

As I have pondered my singleness lately, I have realized that as many times I have been interested in a guy who is not that into me, there even more guys I have come across that I'm just not that into.

A few years ago, whether or not I was attracted to someone felt like a big, muddled mess. I couldn't distinguish what reasons I liked this guy and not the other -- was it based on my issues and need to either be in control or take care of someone? Or was it because he was actually a good guy? My track record spoke more of the former.

But now, after my first healthy attraction in years, I can say with new confidence that growth has happened in my person. The fact that nothing has actually come of it is almost irrelevant. The good news is that I can actually trust myself again, and it's possible for me to be attracted to someone who has good character and love for God, as much as chemistry with me, sense of humor and common interests. Not like the disaster of 2003. Or of 1997. Or of 1992. But I digress. I must also concede that there have been interested guys that are perfectly good ones, but I'm just not that into them. And I take responsibility for how that has also kept me single over the years. No regrets either way.

My behavior in dating can be likened to my behavior in looking for jobs. In both areas, I get advice from everyone to cast the seed as widely as possible, and make myself open to many options. But I think I'm more in the phase of figuring out what I want and what my non-negotiables are. And though I'm trying to be open, and definitely not foolishly investing all my hopes into one job (or man), at heart I think I'm just a one-man, one-job-at-a-time kind of girl. And that's okay for now.

Still Standing

A few months ago, I pretty much told God that I couldn't handle another disappointment in the area of romance. So meeting any guy, let alone one I connected with, was pretty loaded with terror.

But as I've taken on the new approach on my life of one day at a time, I've found myself able to trust God with this area of my life one day at a time. The journey has been at times exciting and full of hope, at other times incredibly scary and full of fear and self-protection. But as the first third of 2008 is rounding out, and I find doors closing on jobs and men who just aren't that into me, I find myself able to pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.

In a season where I look at my own life and those around me and actually see the hope and character that comes from suffering, I think this single adulthood thing isn't so bad -- even when it is.

The Sadder But Wiser Girl

Once in a while, the clutter of thoughts about my present and future unknowns subsides and I remember the past, and how far I've come. I had a realization the other day that part of the difficulty of being single in your 30s and onward is that as you may have become an adult over the years -- by the grace of God -- not everyone else is growing alongside you. People you once looked up to may be in a similar rut as they were, or have changed in a way that is different from what you expected. Others may have quietly become personal heroes to you, that you might not have predicted just a few years ago. I guess that's the thing about a person's character; it is formed on deep within them, often times quietly.

Although I don't consider myself a person who has had to confront a lot of suffering in my life, I have had my share of loneliness, depression and disappointment. And I know from the little I've experienced of true suffering, that God has taken that and shaped me from it more than anything else has. Maybe part of being an adult is learning to receive even the suffering in your life as something God intends to redeem into something deep within your character. I'm grateful for the ways I can hope and care for people better because of my own scars.


"That's right, Eliza... You're a lady now." -- "My Fair Lady," 1964

Gesundheit

In the movie "Singles," one of my all-time faves (and an oft neglected feather in Cameron Crowe's cap), character Janet (played by Bridget Fonda -- how I wanted to be her in high school) is asked by male buddy Steve what women want in a guy. She expounds on the ideals she brought with her when moving from her hometown that comprise a fairly inclusive summary of what most women have said or thought she has wanted in a guy: looks, security, caring, likes "the same things as me but not exactly," loves me, and says "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneeze. Steve follows up the question with a natural one: what is the list now? Janet has scaled it down over the years: "Someone who says 'gesundheit,' although I prefer 'bless you.' It's nicer."

At the time I first saw this movie, my list was probably strikingly similar to Janet's: sense of humor, attractive, considerate, knows and gets me, artsy but not too artsy, handy with house and finance matters, blah blah blah. Over time, every single woman must negotiate with her list. In Janet's case, implicitly this was mostly because she has been somewhat jaded by the reality of men out there. But other times, the whittling of the list comes with a maturing of expectations and a comfortability with who we are in ourselves. We can let go of the things we wanted in a guy that represent what we want people to think of us, or that pose potential risks of us getting hurt -- we get that hurt happens.

Now, if posed the question, my own list has been scaled down over the years. But my demand has maybe been too high for the men I've known thus far: that he just love me, and love God (the source of love). Well, most of the time anyway. He won't be perfect. He won't "get" me half the time, he might think some of the things I like are petty or lame (and vice versa), he will hopefully call me out when I get self-focused or controlling, and as much as i hate this one, he will definitely hurt me (though I would hope never willingly) and disappoint me, and I him.

Though I remain single as more friends have not only spouses but families now, I can't seem to let this one go off my list. But I don't know -- talk to me in a few years. Maybe I'll be down to "gesundheit."

Thank God for the Brothas

Although my luck hasn't necessarily been in the area of romance, I have been extremely fortunate through my young adult life to have men in my life who care for me and love me in a way not every woman has. They value me in a unique way, and help restore my faith in mankind.

These men are the brother figures. They want to know how I'm doing, they are thoughtful and intentional in expressing my value to them, they are protective when I share about a fella I might be interested in, and they cheer me on and reaffirm ways I have grown over the years. They know me and remind me that I'm worth someone recognizing my value, but also encourage me to deal with life and people as they really are. They are safe places for me to be valued, sans B.S. to wade through.

I can't deny that God knows me and loves me when I think about these divine placements in my life over the years. He always seems to give me that needed encouragement through them at just the right time. A special shout-out to those who have loved me well, and taught me the blessing and healing of a healthy cross-gender friendship. I love you like a sister does: more than you could possibly know.

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.