Exhausted from Pimpin’ Myself Out

You’ve heard the expression, “searching for a job…is like a full-time job.”  Well, lately I‘ve been thinking, “searching for a man is like an overtime job with no benefits.” (free dinners don’t count)

I represent the NEW type of woman in this decade….the frazzled 30-year old single woman, able to single-handedly work full-time, drive home like a crazy woman dodging police officers, catch up on obligatory family phone calls, scarf down some food, walk the dog….then transform myself from working gal to “may get lucky” girl.

Oh, the agony.  And the exhaustion.  Truth be told, I’m tired of pimpin’ myself out in the name of dating!  It’s time for someone else to wear high heels for a change.

First — the prep work. I “ain’t” no cover girl…but come on…this “beautification process” requires time and energy!….At least 30 dedicated minutes — of me juggling a flat iron, bronzer, hairspray, my latest and greatest makeup from Sephora…and I haven’t even opened my closet door YET.  And let’s not forget about the times when I forget to re-apply deodorant…and find myself driving back home…wasting another precious seven minutes, then realizing I misplaced my earrings.  I swear, if I could take all the hours I have “prepped” for dates, I could have conquered the Boston marathon by now.

Second — the date.  For those of you NOT dating, imagine a never-ending sales call…with rotating characters.  My friend Miranda decided to take a break from dating on the grounds of…“I can’t tell my life story AGAIN to anyone else!”   I get it.  It’s exhausting rehashing my past…again and again.  I start repeating myself…as my eyes glaze over…losing track of WHAT I’ve said…and to WHO.  There’s a popular expression, “everyone has a story.”  Well, I’m pretty sick of sharing mine.  Unlike a children’s book, I can’t keep reading my story over and over.  If I have to “tell my story” one more time, I may just start making crap up and and call it a novella.

I’ve thought about making a flow chart – or a power point presentation – complete with the U.S. map and important decades.  Perhaps a whopping big timeline to pass out to my dates?  I can note “life stages” in green, “ex-boyfriends” in red, and “career highlights” in orange.  Instead of looking at the menu, my date can just read my timeline.  If he’s interested, he can stick around – if not – I won’t have to waste 1.5 hours making giddy yet intelligent small-talk.

And third — the goodbye. This is the MOST mentally exhausting part of the evening. I’m standing at a fork in the road.  I either – A. Obsess about HOW to blow the guy off quickly and painlessly while running to my car – OR – B. Anxiously wonder if he will ask me out again – because he fulfills 9 out of my 10 requirements and I secretly dig him.  Such pressure either way!

Then the cycle starts ALL OVER — as soon as the next evening.  Ouch.  It gets worse when you realize you only have 6 hours of shut-eye to prepare.

Yes, I know dating is a “numbers game.”  But eventually,  I’ll start billing my dates for overtime.  All this “pimpin myself out” is costly and timely.  And unfortunately, refunds don’t exist.

Well, gotta run and go plug in my curlers… only 45 minutes til my suitor arrives…and I still have to vacuum and floss.

After a night of "pimpin myself out"

Profile Pic Pitfalls…What NEVER to Post Online!

Often times, we only have one shot to make a good impression. Whether it’s in person – OR in the virtual world of online dating.  It’s human nature to quickly judge based on appearance.  We can’t fight it…nor can we hide it.

And truth be told, I am BEFUDDLED after perusing the pictures some Denver men choose for their online dating profiles.  It’s as if their buddies secretly logged in to their eharmony and match.com accounts and played a cruel joke…posting a plethora of the WORST, most dorky, unflattering mug shots…borderline…blackmail material.

Some of my favorite RECENT “jaw-on-floor” findings include:

10.  guy riding a donkey wearing a white “wife beater” circa 1992 (I felt sorry for the donkey and almost called PETA.)

9.  smiling dude sitting in monster truck with gun rack mounted right behind his head (I bet you voted for Obama, right?)

8.  anything that looks like it came from “Glamour Shots” in the mall! (Does that place even exist anymore?)

7.  guy surrounded by his nieces and nephews to illustrate he “likes kids” (No, really you just look creepy.)

6.  man dancing at a wedding with his poor date’s eyes “blacked out” (As if that conceals your ex-girlfriend’s or ex-wife’s identity)

5.  guy wearing an earring of any sort!  (Soooo Kirk Cameron and “Charles in Charge!”)

4.  shirtless man covered in face and body paint standing outside Invesco Field displaying Bronco pride (You need to head to the gym after the game.  And that wig isn’t helping either.)

3.  dude dressed up as woman for “Halloween” (Which team are you batting on here?)

2.  guy wearing spandex (ONLY acceptable if you’re on a bike!)

And the BEST/WORST of all:

1.  man dressed in camouflage proudly holding up the deer he just shot and killed with his buddies (This isn’t the NRA website mister.)

It’s scary to think these photos represent the “best” these men have to offer.  If these are the “good pictures,” what about the “bad ones?”

Yep, the old saying goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words.”  In this case, though, I’m downright speechless.  Mum’s the word.

Man…..I need a Manfriend!

Not to date, NOT to potentially diss, but to befriend…

Consider my recent smackdown with my girlfriends this past week.  I lectured, “You know what, we need guy friends!  Enough of this dating crap, let’s just try and be friends first.”

They looked at me as if I said, “For lent, I‘m giving up moisturizer and lip gloss!”

Here’s the skinny…I’m sick of  “yaying” or “naying” someone after a one-hour date.  Sure, sometimes I immediately sense disaster – or – delight.   But 50% of the time I simply classify the date as a cross between “dull” and “not-so-dull….”  Then like clockwork, the cartoon cloud over my head pops up with that oh-so-familiar conversation.  “Do I like him?  Well, he was nice ENOUGH. Should I text him back?  He looked weird in that shirt.  Maybe he didn’t know he had food in his teeth?  I think he’s too old.  Maybe it was the lighting?”

I’ve decided DIFFICULT is the nice “alternative” 4 letter word for dating in your 30s.  We don’t live in the la-la land of single people anymore.   We’re the minority – at the office -at the gym – and definitely at church.  Gone are the days of living in a town called Singledom (filled with rampant 20 something yr-olds) where 100% of the population is…..SINGLE and available.  It used to be EASY to get to know guys through college courses, friends, groups, the bars – because you saw those peeps on a regular basis and grasped their personalities.  You also witnessed them at their worst – and best – and in the end, some grew on you – and some didn’t.  Nowadays – we’re just forced to sit and stare at someone for one hour – then judge.  And I hate that.

So hence my recent belated New Year’s resolution to make more “guy friends” in 2010.    Maybe we can be friends first, and something else later?  But not until much later.  (Like maybe when I know you’re not a psycho)  This brings up the old When Harry Met Sally question….”Can men and women be friends without the sex part getting in the way???”   Hmmm…  Personally, I think men and women CAN be friends — with both parties thinking about shacking up — but it never really happening.   For instance, late one night, I was sharing a cab ride home with one of my guyfriends after drinking a few tooooo many brewskies.  Out of nowhere my friend Sam deviously whispered, “Come on…come home with me.  No one ever has to know.”  (Yeah, no one except me!! I thought)  I quickly threw some money at the cab driver…and giggled myself to sleep that night…flattered, but happy I hopped out of the cab pronto.

On the flip side, often “manfriends” transform into great boyfriends.  The sparks fly because you’re already comfortable with that person.  You’ve already accepted their baggage, and they’ve hopefully forgotten yours.  But once you blur the line of intimacy…it’s hard to erase history.  The switcharoo usually ends fairly simple – in marriage – or heartbreak.  And things are just never the same.

Overall, guy friends remind me good guys STILL exist.  We need them – just like they need us.  I need a man to tell me I look smashing every now and then.  And they need us – to tell them what to buy at Banana Republic – and oh-my-goodness…get rid of that friggin’ unibrow!!

So yes, if I tell you, “Let’s just be friends…” I really mean it…especially in the next few months.  And I don’t mean the booty call kind.

Signed,

wingwoman searching for attractive wingman

Finding “7 Minutes of Heaven” in “8 Minutes of Speed Dating”

In an effort to sniff out Mr. Right…I decided to travel where I’d probably meet a lot of Mr. Wrongs…at least initially.  So this past week, armed with a sense of humor and a vodka-induced fearless attitude, I walked into an 8 Minute Speed Dating Event.  (By the way, they are NOT paying me to write this.  If so, they’d demand a big-honkin’ refund.)

As I signed in as a first-timer at “Sushi Hai” (posh joint in the Highlands neighborhood) I felt as if I stepped back in time – TO JUNIOR HIGH.  The ladies were clustered in a corner, talking up a storm as “chatty-cathys,” while the dudes lined up against the back wall, only saying max-three-word sentences while scoping out possible ladies-of-the-night.  (Think 16 Candles.) Both groups clutched their alcoholic beverage with purpose and charm.

To share the love, I bullied my attractive 42-year-old neighbor, Paul, into escorting me.  While he had his eyes peeled for 25 yr olds who looked hot, my eyes were open for 37 yr olds who appeared stable.

To those of you – A. living under a rock – or – B. the lucky few who have been married for DECADES – speed dating works like this:  I show up and have a random lady slap a name tag on my shirt.  I am then graced with a card containing 8 table numbers.  I find my first table and wait for one “lucky” guy to strut toward me.  Feeling like a muppet, I then make giddy-yet-highly-intelligent conversation for 8 minutes until I hear a bell.  (In most cases – should have been a gong.)  Then – this adult musical chair extravaganza recycles with another lad.  In between dates, I secretly take notes on each candidate, so I can enter my matches online later that night.

Soooo….how was it?  Let me introduce the contenders:

First guy was most likely a lumberjack in his previous life – based on his wardrobe that somehow traveled though time.

Second lad wore a long, black, thick Matrix-like jacket.  He told me he JUST moved to Denver from Phoenix so he was “entitled” to be cold.  I felt I was “entitled” to get my 8 minutes back.  He never asked me ONE personal question – instead he kept insisting I go “clubbing” with him.

Third dude I spotted wearing cowboy boots.  I assumed he was from Texas.  He wasn’t.  Instead – he lived in Cheyenne, Wyoming – and traveled two hours to Denver for 8 Minute Speed Dating!  When I pulled my jaw up off the floor, I noticed his name was Axle.  Sweet Child of Mine, you drove all this way?

The rest of the guys were honestly – ho-hum.  However, during intermission I spotted two men (in the other group) who appeared yum-yum.  I could have stood back and waited, but realizing I only had moments to make my move, I walked up and said “hi” in my sassy southern accent.  Conversation ensued, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I finally felt some sparks.

Overall – in hindsight, I made a mistake.  When I signed up, I asked the organizer what group to choose – ages 25 though 35 – OR – ages 36 through 49?  Being right on the “cusp,” she told me to go younger.  But I realized throughout the night, the men “my age” -  were in the older group.  I would rather filter through a few dud 45 yr olds – in hopes of crossing paths with available 36 yr olds.  Aahhh…lessons learned.

Would I do 8 Minute Speed Dating again?  You bet!  After all, I like roulette.  The game produced two matches, so I feel like a winner.

And for those of you who question the concept…think about it this way — We often give a “bad date” 60 painful minutes – why not play the odds and give a POSSIBLE good one 8?

FYI: My neighbor Paul did not find the 25 yr old woman of his dreams…but he did leave with the bartender’s number.  I think that counts.

Back to the Relationship Drawing Board Again…Where’s My Eraser?

Once again (ironically a week before Valentine’s Day), I find myself – back at the drawing board.

I recently ended something…with a certain someone.  He’s in transition – most likely moving – and we differ on religion.  The Titantic-Tanking Trifecta.  He never did anything wrong.  There’s just…not enough that’s right.  Tough call, but one I had to make.

You’ve been there…let me painfully yet humorously paint the picture.

After investing your lucrative time, wasting youth-filled energy, spending an enormous amount of money, dreaming about future children, cooking Martha Stewart homemade dinners, splurging on weekly manicures, introducing him to best friends, posing for multiple facebook photos, coming up with cheese-o-rama nicknames for each other….you decide to call your “new” relationship QUITS.

In the mere matter of a millisecond, you squander all those COVETED HOURS and literally flush them, shred them, garbage dispose them, then chunk them into oblivion.

Pause.

Then it’s time to RALLY with your “big-girl-but-still-sexy-panties-on” and start this “time sucking cycle” all over again – spending time with a NEW dude. But first, you must FIND that person.  Greeaaat….two uphill battles!  Add to that the “breakup battle” you already fought…now you’re up to THREE whopping uphill battles….all for the name of luv.

No wonder so many of us wave the white flag in defeat.

After riding a similar roller coaster that ended badly, my friend Miranda recently confessed to me in state of panic mixed with hope, “If I could just take Frank’s sweetness, Jon’s job, Brad’s body, and Todd’s sense of humor…I could create the perfect man.  He would be a masterpiece.”

Wait a minute ladies.  Uhhh…This ain’t paint-by numbers!  Men today are made of PERMANENT INK…permanent markers in fact.  Think SHARPIE!  At age 35, men are pretty much what-you-see-is-what-you-get.  Forget about “adding on” or “subtracting.”  Toss aside that “big-ass eraser” from 3rd grade, because you can’t delete his flaws…much less get rid of the deal breakers.  “White Out” won’t work either – because ultimately you can’t conceal the truth.  At this point, grab a highlighter and focus on the good stuff.  OR (do like I did)…move on and go back to the drawing board….knowing your Mr. Picasso is wandering around aimlessly waiting for his artiste to stumble upon him in a bar, on match.com, or in the grocery store (yeah right).

Which is exactly where we started this conversation….

Yes, I would love to “etch a sketch” my perfect man…shake it up….and add more tantalizing characteristics.  But let’s face it, this isn’t elementary school art class…this is LIFE…or rather what I make of it.

So, back to my easel one again.   Pictionary anyone?

courtesy of this talented cartoonist

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.

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…

Big Decision for the New Gal in Town…

Being the brand spankin’ new kid in D-town (Denver), I’d thought I’d give online dating a shot.  So, on a whim, armed with my credit card digits – a plethora of recent party-girl pics – and multiple images of me conquering the great outdoors, I logged on to several of (what I call) the “me-bay” sites.  I felt perfectly fine to take ownership of my singledom and market myself to the millions of morons, mullets, macho-men, and Mr. Rights living in the Denver demographics in hopes of finding one decent dude or hot “dudley do-right.”   After all, I’m a hot commodity, so why not market to the masses and put U.S. capitalism to work, right?  I remembered the good ole’ lesson of supply and demand from 8th grade economics.  Limited supply of awesome, available women (i.e. ME) equates to high demand from rich, hot, down-to-earth bachelors (i.e. THEM).  Throw in a ski condo, some fine wine, a labrador mutt who adores hiking…and the deal becomes even better, sweeter, and BEYOND palatable…

Which online dating site would I choose?  Hmmmm..did I prefer the open “card catalog” approach of match.com…or the “secret ballot” style of e-harmony?  For one brief moment I was sold on eHolyHell.com (a.k.a. eharmony), but ultimately decided those commercials were too darn cheesy for moi to appear during future primetime TV lineups (if AND when I did meet Mr. Hot-Dudley-do-right).   Besides, I always wondered….where were the commercials portraying the “not-so-cute” people?  Those couples seemed to be missing from the airwaves, as if some rich white old/fat/bald guy in an eharmony sterile board room ironically instilled a “no fat/boring/ugly person rule.”   Being a dewey decimal girl at heart (and secretly thinking the card catalog approach would work in my favor), I flippantly decided on the match.com 90-day subscription, figuring that would equal more than enough minutes for all the fab singular D-town dudes to fawn at me virtually, in hopes of rubbing knees with me physically.  I was salivating at the anticipation of my first wink, that first email…before I even clicked on the “new user” icon.  This my friends….was gonna be fun.