Ski First, Date Later?

This weekend, I am faced with a potentially catastrophic dating decision:

A.  Ski two days in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with separate groups of friends

- OR -

B.  Go out with a hot guy on Saturday night

To you “non-snow skiers” out there….go ahead and QUIT reading this post.  You won’t get it.  You’ll probably think I’m TOO fickle, finicky, or fanatical.  I’m over it, OK?

That's moi!

“Why can’t you do both?” you may ask…  Well, the answer – it’s simple.  This particular hot date DOESN’T ski or snowboard.  (I desperately wish he did.)  So, I am left leaving to choose….Powder-time – OR – Play-time?  Hmmm….which one will make me happier?

Some backstory here before you start judging:  During the week, I work in a “bomb shelter” – filled to the brim with video editing equipment, exciting gray cubes, flattering florescent lights, and glossy computer monitors.  I love my job, but let’s BE REAL people!  I’m aching for sunlight, gusty winds, the smell of sunblock on my face, and the taste of an “apres ski” beer on my lips.  I need a revival.  Especially after the last three weeks of never-getting-a-lunch-break-because-I’ve-been-so-damn-busy-trying-to-prove-myself.  Phew…

My nail-biting dilemma may sound trite….but it begs the bigger question — As we get older, WHAT are we willing to give up?  What are we willing to COMPROMISE?  I’m realizing as we hit our mid-30s – NOT MUCH.  Is this good or bad?  I don’t know.

What I DO know…the thought of forking over my coveted powder-filled Saturday and Sunday for a man-date – leaves me deflated and dull.  I’d rather choose the sure bet to happiness.  I moved to Colorado to ski – it’s one of my passions.  And I refuse to toss it aside for a make-out session and dinner (although that’s enticing.)

With snow skiing – I feel fulfilled, on top of the world – escapism at its best.

Going on a date – I could end up unfulfilled, at the bottom of the barrel, secretly wanting to escape.  Argh…

In the meantime…I’m counting down the hours til I load my gear, head west, and anticipate that first jaunt off the lift.

Yes, I know Valentine’s Day is two weeks away… I know 40 is roughly five years away… But for now, I’m choosing the mini-vacation over THE GUY.

My hopes – someday I won’t have to compromise.  Someday I can choose “C” and get “All of the above.”

It’s a Small Match.com World After All

Watch out where you meet your Match.com dates in Denver! Recently, I found myself in quite a pickle at the Wash Park Tavern. Thursday nights, this place is crawling with match.com-ers. Heck, next time this girl’s gonna demand an online daters’ drink special…
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Girl rushes into a crowded bar…running seven minutes late. Looks for 6’5” match.com “never-met-this-dude” date of the night.

Randomly spots attractive guy who looks vaguely familiar sitting at bar, alone, as if expecting someone. He makes eye contact, smiles, stands, and starts strutting toward her.

Girl suffers mini heart attack as she racks her blonde brain – questioning WHO she is supposed to meet this current evening. Guy A, Guy B…or Z?? Her high-heeled feet freeze.

In about a millisecond, she recognizes “random man approaching her” based on a computer screen photo. She struggles…

Starts hyperventilating as she realizes she has communicated with this guy virtually, but never in person, nor over the phone. Scans around..searching for her “real date of the night” because this guy is clearly SOMEONE ELSE’S first date of the night. Takes a deep breath.

Guy walks up and suavely says….”Hi Christy!” Girl smiles, in shock, then replies…”Noooooooo, I’m Leaza.” Dude’s face flip-flops, sensing his faux-pas. She then gives him a cat-like “knowing” look and murmurs, “But you DO know me.”

Guy quickly realizes this “damsel in distress” is one of his OTHER online blondies from his giant match.com virtual dating posse. But NOT his soiree for tonight. He flashes back to her profile pics, as they stare into each other’s eyes, knowing this could turn awkward QUICKLY for all four parties involved.

The duo does not speak, but somehow telepathically communicates the plan: Exit the scene graceful before anyone gets hurt – or humiliation takes over. More importantly – BEFORE THE “REAL DATES” CATCH ON.

Girl turns 90 degrees and spots her 6’5” “present date” approaching…looks back at “future date”…then laughs as if catching up with an old friend, “It was great seeing you. Let’s talk soon.”

Guy smiles and says, “Definitely. How about next week?” Girl spins on her heel, relishing in their Academy Award winning performances. She slyly greets 6’5’ Guy, but can’t keep her mind off Future Guy.  She knows he will email her later that night.

Seven minutes later a gal named Christy rushes in…

TO BE CONTINUED….

On Match.com...it's a SMALL world!!! (especially at the bars)

Announcing my 1040 EZ Dating Questionnaire

In honor of tax season, I developed my own 1040 EZ Dating Questionnaire for all potential man-dates. I’ve decided this tax time – it’s time to cut to the chase with Denver men…Uncle Sams included.  I want to know up front – how many deductions I may face in the future.

My plan: to utilize the EZ form to weed out potential players, married dudes, and average losers…in the hopes of someday filing JOINTLY before I turn 40.  The 1040 Long Form is in the works, but for now I’m relying on this EZ method for some BIG returns.

So far my questions for prospects “out on the town” include:

1. Are you really single…or are you just playing THAT in your dream tonight?
2.  Is that your real hair?  Is that your real hair color?
3.  Do you have kids? If so…..do they behave?…….If not….do they live in another state?
4.  Is your mother by any chance………..a mute?
5.  Do the words “swiffer”…“dyson”…or “oxiclean” ring a bell? (R.I.P. Billy Mays)
6.  How long have you been OFF the Kevin Federline “Pizza, Pot, and Beer” diet?
7.  Can you please empty your pockets? And while you’re at it, show me your driver’s license, divorce decree, current proof of medical insurance, and Banana Republic credit card.
8.  Do you know how to boil an egg? What about water?
9.  Are you currently using an anti-wrinkle daily moisturizer with SPF 30? (cuz lets face it, you’re closer to 40 than I am.)
10.  You do know that unibrows will NEVER be in style, right?  RIGHT?

And for the bonus round…

*When is the last time you cleaned your bathtub? (Please provide date and approximate scrubbing duration time.)

*This post was absolutely NOT brought to you by TurboTax, H and R Block, or Just for Men.

Advice to ManLand: Dance More, Talk More, Text Less

After years of dating – and endless hours dishin’ with girlfriends – I’m entitled to write: 5 Rockin’ Rules…that prove…Chivalry will get you LUCKY!

As promised…Rules 2 through 5 for my ManLand friends…

5.  Dude, if you are lounging at a bar – with a dance floor in sight – get your butt to the dance floor with the same intensity AS IF you were evacuating an exploding plane.   There’s a steadfast decree about a dance floor:  Women quickly turn sour if they WANT to dance…and you DON’T.  If you’re gun-shy…fake it.   But know the caveats: You don’t need to dance to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.”  We’re blissfully happy grinding with our girl posse in a gi-normous circle in that scenario.  BUT….please grab us immediately if you hear a slow ballad that takes you back to 9th grade, or anything we “made out to” in 12th grade.  Bonus points for “Purple Rain,” Patrick Swayze’s “She’s Like the Wind,” or “Every Rose has its Thorn.”  If you’re embarrassed dancing in front of your guy buddies, think of all the action you will get later that night…while they go home and watch 10 repeats of Sportscenter ALONE.   Continue to think about more kisses in the morning, perhaps a homemade breakfast…some fresh brewed coffee…mmm…while your dufus friends sleep in, overdose on tylenol, and stumble to 7-11.  Aaaahhhhh…the benefits of simply dancing versus standing in the corner.

4.  If your lady’s relatives pop into town, insist you meet and greet…then buy a drink for them.  You don’t have to play “tour guide,” but offer to meet them pre-dinner or post.  ASK QUESTIONS.   Act interested.  Even if you think they’re psycho.  Chances are – they are psycho…but so are your parents – so it’s an even game.  Just think…Your woman will smack good stuff about you in the ladies’ restroom (to mom or sis) within the first 10 minutes of your entrance…(That’s golden!)  If her relatives don’t drink…disregard this paragraph and make sure you hide your vodka in the freezer before they come over unexpectedly.  Since I’m catholic, I have no idea how to survive in a non-alcohol world.   I guess you could take them to Baskin Robbins or Braums…

A Place called ManLand

3.  TALK MORE….TEXT LESS.   How old r u? R u an adult or r u 16???  Pick up your phone and leave an “old-fashioned” voicemail.  Like way way waaaay back in the early 1990’s when you were forced to share the hallway phone with your sister. I know you have memories of stretching the coiled phone cord into your room, closing your bedroom door, and praying for privacy while wearing your parachute pants.  Think of it this way…When you were 18 or 21, you actually had the real b@!!$ to pick up that mustard-yellow rotary phone – give your index finger a work-out – and ask a girl out using actual nouns, verbs, and adjectives. Bottom line: Feel free to text us from time to time…but always….TALK FIRST…TEXT LATER.  Especially if you’re – A: Asking us out – or – B: Giving us the boot.

2. If you sleep with a woman – get mostly naked with her – or she somehow ends up in your/her bed – under the covers – on top of the covers – with the majority of her clothes off/on — CALL HER THE NEXT DAY.  I don’t care if you’re skydiving in the Grand Canyon – or attending Aunt Betty’s funeral in Indiana, get your butt to a cell phone tower while praying to the cellular gods for good reception….BUT ALWAYS CALL THE NEXT DAY.    Simply think of this as insurance for your next hot date with the gal.  In other words, this is prep-work for your upcoming nighttime soiree.  Women today will not put up with your bullcrap.  And in Denver, there’s always another dude around the corner.

1.  And to recap from a previous post:  Pay the check!  Dive for it like a seagull attacking leftover chips and queso on a mexican beach.  In today’s world, women are stuck with childbirth, PMS, and periods.  Be happy you’re only stuck with the check.

To Nose or Not to Nose? That is the Question

Burning the midnight match.com oil late one evening (while perusing through emails)…I found myself corresponding with a single, tall, active fellow. The Denverite’s profile sounded promising – but his pictures – a bit blurry and distorted. Hmmm. Trying not to be TOO alarmed (or critical), my eyes strained as I noticed his hot, attractive body coupled with what appeared to be – OH NO – a disproportionate nose. Staring at my computer monitor a full 5 minutes, I had a decision to make – “chance it,” – or “pass” – and leave the possibility of meeting the big-nosed “man of my dreams” to the next blonde. I chose the former.

During the obligatory “weed-out” phone call, Mr. Nose divulged to me he was an FBI agent. Impressed, I hoped his big nose did not equate to a big ego. I remained open minded and we agreed to meet at a bar in Commons Park. Giving myself a pep talk I reasoned, “A nose is just a nose, right? It doesn’t make us or break us. And maybe those pictures were taken at a weird angle by a REALLY BAD photographer?!”

Date night arrived. I sauntered into the bar, and scanned the crowd, figuring he would be easy to spot. And as I turned my head, checking out the other “first daters,” I found myself eye to eye AND nose to nose with “FBI Guy.”

For the next two hours, he entertained me with details of bank robberies, drug busts, and search warrants. I, however, couldn’t focus on anything BUT his nose – aching to hear stories about how many times he broke his snozzle. I started an internal dialogue with myself, “To Nose or Not to Nose?” – followed by – “Is THAT thing genetic?” – and rounding it out – “It’s worse than Owen Wilson’s nose!”

As the night progressed – and I emptied my wine glass a few times over, FBI Guy’s nose appeared to be….shrinking. A reverse Pinocchio effect – induced by the alcohol. Maybe there was a way to cope! We agreed to meet again…and I secretly challenged myself to GET PAST THE NOSE.

The next day at work, I spent 3 hours obsessively googling pictures of Owen Wilson’s nose, convincing myself I could overcome this obstacle. After all, Owen Wilson was a mega superstar who dated Jennifer Aniston. If she could get over the “nose,” why couldn’t I? What were her tricks of the trade? I secretly wished I could call her.

As our next date approached, I prayed….”Maybe the nose won’t seem so bad the second time…”

I, my friends, was wrong. As FBI Guy and I sat in the “nosebleed” section of the Pepsi Center, I realized THIS match was not going anywhere. If I heard one more first-hand account of handcuffing a criminal, I would go postal myself on this guy – including his nose.  Plus, I certainly didn’t appreciate him interrogating me over past relationships.

While his nose was not growing, his FBI attitude WAS. And I felt perfectly fine to let this future relationship fizzle.

What’s WITH Single 30 year-old women and their dogs? …Says the a##hole

A few weeks ago, I was quenching my alcohol induced thirst at Forest Room 5, one of Denver’s low-key hot spots, located in the trendy trenches west of downtown.  If you haven’t been there…imagine a lounge situated in a hip, artificial forest.  Think Ikea meets Gnomeworld (the Travelocity dude)…but in a kosher kind of fashion.

Anywho, I was chatting away with my two Denver BFFs (Celeste and Miranda), when a playa’ in his early 40s approached us and negatively said, “What’s WITH single 30 year-old women and their dogs?  It’s weird.  Single women are obsessed with their dogs.  They always have to leave dates early to go let their dogs out.  Who wants THAT responsibility?” (In other words, he’s pissed b/c female dog owners won’t shack up with him.)

Clockwatch aside, it only took me about .27 seconds to flick the switch – transforming from lovable, flirty Leaza to beeee-atch on a rampage.  I explained to him (in my best calm bitchy voice), “Hey, my dog is loyal and loving, and actually protects me from weirdos.” During my tirade, I whipped out my iPhone, waving pictures of Fluffmuffin (see below) in this divorced dufus’s face – delivering a sermon that would make canines around the world howl with pride.

My dog "Fluffmuffin"

I couldn’t help but defend almost every single woman’s “best friend.”  Growing up, I always told my dog “goodnight” before drowsily falling asleep.  And a few decades later -  Fluffmuffin receives the SAME treatment before I hop under my comfy duvet cover.  Yes…families and single men love their dogs, but MAYBE single women cherish them more.  And if so, I’m OK with that.  (Who else will guard my dirty socks all day?)

I then challenged the bachelor (wearing too much hair gel,) “So, if you don’t like dating women with dogs because there’s TOO much responsibility involved – you REALLY must not like dating women with kids.”

He then sheepily stated, “Well, I have 4 kids.”

Quickly realizing this guy had enough baggage to put Southwest airlines out of business, my BFFs and I turned our heels and left Mr. “Pot Calling the Kettle Black” in the dust, alone in the faux forest.

I went home that night, and let my dog sleep in the bed.  Funny thing, I’m sure THAT guy…was sleeping alone.

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All this “dog talk” makes me think about a popular Youtube clip by Wendy Francisco called “GoD and DoG.”  Check it out…your dog will appreciate it.

Top 10 WORST Emails from Guys on Match.com

Let’s face it – truth is always stranger than fiction.  So, I decided to compile a list of my favorite emails from Denver men on match.com.  These are ACTUAL quotes…served up straight.   And yes ladies, these men are walking the streets of the mile high city.  Try not to fight over them.

10.  Annie is my favorite play on Broadway.   (You already sound like a child molester.)

9.  (from an old 52 year old dude) Did you know that Frances Folsom Cleveland married President Grover Cleveland when she was 21 and he 49?  They had a beautiful White House wedding and it was the cheer of the nation back then.  (Good to know since I wasn’t paying attention in Mrs. Clark’s 8th grade U.S. History class.)

8.  So I’ll get right to it — want to grab a beer?  Nome of that “coors light” shit though, a real beer.  (What, like a PBR?  Or a Natural Light?)

7.  I have a picture of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt on my wall by my work-desk. (Are you flippin’ kidding me???!!!) When I look at their picture, I wonder. When I think of them, I see the idea of “humanitarianism.”  We often think of actors as just actors or actresses … but really they are an expression of our best and worse selves. In Harrison Ford, I see the patriot; In Mel Gibson, I see the neurotic; In Nicole Kidman, I see the crusader, and in Demi Moore, I see the iconoclast. What about you? What do you see about the world in certain actor or actresses?  (Dude, in your profile pic…I see “America’s Most Wanted” meets “Jersey Shore.”)

6.  (from an asian man) I can tell that you’re the type to primarily date cauc-ASIANS b/c you fear that you wont find an Asian that’s taller than you? I have to admit, most are midgets. (Wow, if you were a white man, you would be called a racist! BTW..I’m turning you into the “Little People of America Association.’”)

5.  Hey sexy, how was your Monday? I have seen dozens and dozens of women on here and you are far and away one of the hottest ones. (My Monday was great until you emailed me.  Don’t ruin my Tuesday please.)

4. Wud up? (Your vocabulary skills clearly scream master’s degree.)

3.  That’s what I am like: a heart of compassion – wanting to heal the world and make it a better place. I don’t just want to live; I want to make a difference. All while having fun, smelling the roses … wanting it all… (Do you work for Hallmark?  If not I hear Dairy Queen is hiring.)

2.  I work for a small up-and-coming terrorist organization in the marketing department. We’re doing great in Wyoming, but we have big hopes and dreams and want to start making a splash on the international circuit. As you can imagine, image is everything with terrorists. So I was thinking about doing a marketing campaign on cable TV, like CNN or maybe the home shopping network, can you help me out? (No, but maybe Suzanne Somers can – or Chuck Norris?  Perhaps Sarah Palin when she’s done with her book tour?)

1.  My American Dream includes a real life size action and full-of-life Barbie… and you fit the description. (Sorry Ken, get lost.  I hear Skipper is single though.)

Feel free to share some of your best and worst…

Writing my Match.com Dissertation

Following “Big Decision for the New Gal in Town….”    I attacked my match.com profile with the exuberation of a teenage girl shopping for her first prom dress combined with the writing expertise of an Oxford english PhD student composing a dissertation.  This profile HAD to transcend “good”….In southern terms, my mission was to “git ‘er done.” My pale tulle pink manicured fingers started moving at warp speed as I chugged a vodka/cranberry (with extra lime) and set out on my match.com man-finding mission.  The words transcended out of my blonde brain into seamless comedic prose on a computer screen.  Glancing at my pictures, I made sure to include a wide assortment…close-ups, body shots, me chillin’ on beach chair (bloody mary in hand), moi hiking a 14-er (a must for Denver, Colorado men).  After all – I was well-rounded woman, and wanted to secure it was obvious I could tackle outdoor activities in a single bound.  I even threw in a photo of my lovely pooch…to prove I could live in peaceful harmony with dog hair…

I typed with a vengeance….the desk light glowing in my corner living room office.  If only the neighbors in ritzy Cherry Creek knew little ole’ Leaza was on the brink of something big…something that could change her life — and hopefully someone else’s…completely.  If anything, this would at least provide hours of free entertainment giggling with girlfriends.  My mouth salivated at the thought of laughing hysterically, comparing horror online dating stories and trying overzealously to outdo each other.  Pathetic, yes.

An hour into my pulitzer prize winning challenge, I stared at the giant icon labeled “Profile Complete.”  This was THE moment.  The moment where my words…and my pictures….transmitted themselves to possibly hundreds of available men in the Denver/Boulder area.  I imagined myself…Leaza…as a mass blonde mailing…except instead of ending up in an outdoor mailbox, I would land in someone’s virtual one.  I felt as if I was taking a leap of faith….  I giddily scanned my profile for any last minute changes…exhaled, “What the hell?” — then cautiously moved my mouse over “Profile Complete.”  Folks…it was time to start this mission.  I prepared for the adventure…and clicked…sending my profile to the gods at match.com.  I prayed for Zeus to intercede, quickly wondering if I would land in heaven, hell, or god-forbid, gulp, limbo.

Men are like Crockpots, Women like Woks

Cooking — an american institution for the sexes.  Who knew the pots and pans of today – could clearly define a generation of men and women?  Here’s my theory (after dishing dozens of meals and wandering aimlessly through Williams Sonoma) — Men and women resemble DIFFERENT types of cookware.

A man mirrors a crockpot.  He comes in 3 settings: OFF, LOW, and HIGH. Ironically, many guys also share the same stature and physique of the infamous slowcooker — SHORT – STUBBY – and ROUND.  Just like a crockpot, men typically can only handle ONE thing (aka dish) at a time, preferring to spend all their energy (aka burner) on one project alone.  Keeping the recipe simple makes it easier. Add multiple ingredients to their recipe – even a few extra spices – and men are apt to boil over – sometimes quickly.  Many dudes often keep a lid on their anger…or in other words…they simmer!  This can go on for HOURS upon HOURS with no warning signs at all.  Not even a peep – or an ounce of steam.  Then out of nowhere – an overflow of burnt anger!

A woman (unlike their one-dish counterparts) resembles a wok.  We can cook 14 varieties of chopped veggies plus tofu in five minutes flat – NO TIMER NEEDED. With the flick of the wrist, we simply handle extreme temperature adjustments without breaking a sweat.  At the same time, we somehow talk on our iPhones, update our facebook status, flatiron our hair, and convince our BFFs they don’t need “what’s-his-butt.”   Fight a grease fire in our trusty “never-rusty” wok – no problem!   We’ve conquered WORSE situations at family reunions in Arkansas. Perhaps our greatest strength – is versatility using the simple asian cookware piece – or in redneck terms, “a deep fryin’ pan.”  Sauteing, stir-frying, scrambling, and steaming – all come easy – even with the challenge of keeping our eye on multiple burners.

In the end though, when the dishes are dried, and the leftovers “saran-wrapped” up  - women secretly adore America’s most dependable small appliance.  We can’t fathom life without our stable, tried-and-true crockpots. Our cabinets would seem empty.  And men – we know you love our sizzle and spice, our attempt to keep everything “nice.”  Life would be pretty boring AND bland without us.

By the way, can you pass the butter?

Advice to ManLand: Chivalry Will Get You LUCKY

Dudes, listen up…not sure where you mind is at the present moment (besides counting down the days til March Madness)…but I need you to pay attention.  Five Rockin Rules…that prove…Chivalry will get you LUCKY (aka laid)…

1.  When the check comes — dive for it like a Mexican seagull attacking leftover tortilla chips and salsa on a Cancun beach.  Unlike your loaded “Monday Night Football w/ the boys” nachos…, there is NO five second rule!  Let there be NO moment of hesitation as soon as you even SEE the waiter coming toward the table with the check.  Your hand needs to flutter like “wind beneath my wings”. Bonus points for actually quoting something clever from that cheesy movie.

If you need a visual (which I’m sure you do since you’re a guy)….Imagine Mr. Miyagi in Karate Kid…wax on…wax off….  Grab the check before your date notices.  Make it seamless….like one of those iron-on patches your mom put on your jeans as a kid.  Your damsel will realize quickly you can do wonder with your hands.    Imagine your reflexes are one step ahead of your mind and more importantly — your common sense.  Even better…excuse yourself an go to the bathroom…then slip your credit card to the waiter.   Get used to the idea that it’s your job to primarily pay the dinner check — at least in the beginning.

If you’re already angry reading my words of wisdom – think about it this way….Women are stuck with childbirth, PMS, and painful periods!  Be happy you’re only stuck with the check.  Get over it.  Move on.  Yes, I know women want it all…equality and all that crap.  But just suck it up….because you’ll never have to birth a child or wear a maxipad.

Rules 2 through 5 coming soon…