Clueless Emma

Ever Wish Life Had an Undo Button?

Carrie Underwood - Undo It (Official Music Video)Carrie Underwood

For the Detective

Is he the wrong man for you?

Trust your gut feelings about the men you date. If someone exhibits actions or behaviors that just don’t sit right with you, politely say, “It was nice meeting you” and leave. You might disappoint your date, you might get frustrated, but if you don’t walk away when you first get that feeling… you start making excuses. Then that second date turns into a third and a fourth. Suddenly, out of boredom or trying to be polite, you find that you’re dating the wrong guy.

via yahoo.match.com

Ha! Coincidence this is the leading article on Yahoo, so that I have to see it every time I check mail? I think they were watching me...

Advice for the single ladies

I find this wisdom especially imperative to share after thoroughly enjoying a home-brewed ale.

Do not date a man who:

1) smokes, even if he says he's trying to quit. Well, unless you smoke, too. Mostly it's irritating to be left alone in restaurants and bars during smoke breaks. Who even smokes anymore in Oregon? And how many families do you know who all smoke? Try going out with them--they all end up outside, standing together socializing while you sit inside waiting alone. It's enough to make you take up the habit just so you can converse a little. You might as well--when they insist you join them so you don't feel left out, you'll end up stinking anyway.

2) says he is going to lose weight and get into shape. He most likely will not. Ok, we know he won't. He is in complete denial that he needs to lose 50 lbs. Those once-a-year uniform slacks have not shrunk, and the Starbucks lattes are not helping (but don't say anything or you will be accused of having negative thoughts! Yes, we know we get accused of that anyway, no matter what we say or do. Still. Don't point out the 5 bazillion fat calories. Trust me on this.) 

3) has a gambling addiction. Well, DUUUH. But he is cute with dimples when he smiles, and we want to think he is honest when he says he is "cured." Do not believe it. Hide your money.

4) acts more like a woman when communicating--ie--"I was so hurt when you didn't read the entire 5 page article I sent you last week, even though I didn't say I wanted you to read it. You don't care about me!" [[[Shudder]]] Trust me on this one. I think I just dated myself in a former, less self-aware life. Truly frightening.

5) is incapable of being alone and runs to stay with his adult kids or friends every single weekend if you can't be with him. And sometimes when you can. It is weird. Kids grow up and move away to start their own lives. Sleeping on their couches, especially when they have started their own immoral lives too early, living in sin at 21 with babies out of wedlock, encircled by cigarette smoke, is just....weird and not the life we want. And don't say anything. (See #2.)

6) It was always someone else's fault in his past, and it's yours when you are around. And also when you're not. And even when you exemplify what any other man would be thrilled to find in a woman. He is simply incapable of giving of himself. And remember--he is your bitchy past self. You'll never measure up. Set him free to criticize and whine about another woman. You really do not need this.

And, God forbid, if you find the man who personifies all these issues, I'm sure he will be quite polite. The only problem is you may prefer sincerity. 

Judging Others: Do We Have the Right?

I believe there is Absolute Truth. We have a reason to live, a mission to follow. Many like to think we are to go through life being nonjudgmental, to accept everyone and every life choice with open arms. True, the bible tells us not to be hypocritical in judgment. But we are also told to try every spirit, to see if it is of God. If it is not, we cannot accept it into our everyday life. Tolerance is not acceptance!

It amazes me that so many people automatically label someone with an unwavering opinion as a hater or as unChristlike. It is NOT hateful to judge something as unbiblical or as something that should not be accepted--it is NOT wrong to tell a friend that they have the freedom to choose what they will in life, but that they will not be accepted into my little world while they are participating in said activities. We have forgotten what boundaries are. It is okay to say no. It is okay to "be ye separate." I am a fierce proponent of individual freedoms--and they include the freedom to judge whether or not I will allow people to actively participate in my life.

My rules for determining acceptance into my personal life:

1) If I cry more than laugh when we talk, you're out.
2) If I feel guilty more than joyful when we're together, you're out.
3) If I feel more unsure about what you're really thinking and doing more than I feel secure knowing you are open and honest at all times, you're out.
4) If I have to walk on eggshells because I never know what will set you off, I'm out.
5) When you berate me more than compliment me; display continual personal hypocrisy in your judgment of me; or act differently when we're around family and/or friends than when we're alone, you're out.

I tolerate everyone. I only accept those who will not hurt me. Isn't that the way it should be for all of us?

True Love Can Last a Lifetime

Love's first blush fading? Lost that loving feeling? Love is not all around?
Scientists have used brain scans to study how long love lasts between couples.

Using brain scans, researchers at Stony Brook University in New York have discovered a small number of couples respond with as much passion after 20 years together as most people only do during the early throes of romance, Britain's Sunday Times newspaper reported.

The researchers scanned the brains of couples together for 20 years and compared them with results from new lovers, the Sunday Times said.

About 10 percent of the mature couples had the same chemical reactions when shown photographs of their loved ones as those just starting out.

Previous research has suggested that the first stages of romantic love fade within 15 months and after 10 years it has gone completely, the newspaper said.

"The findings go against the traditional view of romance -- that it drops off sharply in the first decade -- but we are sure it's real," said Arthur Aron, a psychologist at Stony Brook, told the Sunday Times.

[The Berean Call: "The LORD has appeared of old to me, saying, Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness have I drawn you" (Jeremiah 31:3). "Be mindful of your mercy, O Lord, and of your steadfast love, for they have been from of old" (Psalm 25:6).]

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2009!!

 Champagne Ball 2009 at the Portland Hilton!!

  Nice decorations, good appetizer buffet!

5 Guys Named Moe--60s and 70s music. They were good, but I didn't enjoy the music much for dancing. After midnight, when the deejay took over, I finally started bustin' a move!

The 80s hair band was waay more fun than that silly 70s disco! [Bring back the country music!!]

Happy New Year 2009 from Clueless Emma and the Moose!!

Men are pigs.

Of 2,000 married men polled...almost a third said it would spice up their sex life and 19 per cent reckoned plastic surgery could save their marriage.

Over 35 per cent of men said they would never tell their wife she needed plastic surgery as she would be too offended but 17 per cent said they would approach her because she might be open to their suggestions.

Over a third of blokes were so keen for their wife to go under the knife, they were prepared to pay for it...[but] three quarters of chaps said they would never go under the knife to save their marriage or to spice up their sex life.

Top 10 cosmetic procedures men want wives to have:

1 Liposuction on tummy - 37 per cent

2 Liposuction on legs - 25 per cent

3 Breast enlargement - 22 per cent

4 Breast reduction / uplift - 19 per cent

5 Liposuction on arms - 18 per cent

6 Teeth whitening - 15 per cent

7 Face lift - 13 per cent

8 Neck lift -10 per cent

9 Nose job - 9 per cent

10 Bum implants - 6 per cent

Bum implants? Really??

Ask women what we'd change. Go ahead. I dare ya.

Ball and Chain?

I know of one particular man in Maine who believes, or did when I knew him, his wife is a burden. He acted out on it by messing around. This is a much better way to deal with it--and heck, if she's really heavy, that's a lot of Bud!

Talk about relationship baggage! Saturday was the 9th Annual North American Wife Carrying Championships at Sunday River.

During the competition, men carry their wives through a 278-yard obstacle course, which includes a water hazard and two 39-inch high log hurdles. If he drops her, the team loses 5 seconds off its time.

Why would anyone want to do this? Kevin and Joyce Quiros said it's the perfect way to end their honeymoon. Kevin Quiros said, "We made it through the wedding, now we're pretty much in the lose weight from all the junk we ate at the honeymoon."

Ri Fahnestock and Sarah Silverberg took the grand prize. What do they win? Her weight in Bud Lite. That's 5 cases of beer.

Bacon Infusion

I recently discovered a ginger-pear-infused martini at Jonathan's Long Bar in downtown Salem--the first time, a few weeks ago, when we ordered the $9 yummy concoction, I smacked my lips in joy! Delicioso! A couple days ago, not nearly as good and I couldn't taste any pear at all--what a disappointment for $9! My date didn't seem to mind too much, though.

For those who don't know what to get the meatatarian guy/gal who has everything, check out this heart-clogging beverage:

FOR THE BOURBON- BACON INFUSION:
3 or 4 slices bacon, or enough to render 1 ounce of fat (PDT uses Benton’s, but any extra-smoky variety will do)
1 750-ml. bottle of bourbon such as Four Roses Yellow Label

FOR THE OLD FASHIONED:
2 ounces bacon-infused bourbon
1/4 ounce Grade B maple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Twist of orange

FOR THE BACON-INFUSED BOURBON: Cook bacon in pan and reserve rendered fat. (1) When bacon fat has cooled a bit, pour off one ounce from pan. (2) Pour bourbon into a non-porous container. (3) Strain the bacon fat into the container and infuse for 4 to 6 hours at room temperature. Place mixture in freezer until all the fat is solidified. With a slotted spoon, remove fat and strain mixture back into bottle. 

FOR THE COCKTAIL: In mixing glass, stir 2 ounces bacon-infused bourbon, maple syrup, and bitters with ice. Strain into chilled rocks glass filled with ice. Garnish with orange twist.

Recipe: THE BACON BLOODY MARY

1 1/2 oz. bacon-flavored vodka

6 oz. Bloody Mary mix

Barbecue rub

1 Slim Jim

1 lime wedge

Mix the bacon-flavored vodka and Bloody Mary mix together. Rub rim of tall glass with barbecue spices. Pour mix into glass. Garnish with Slim Jim and lime wedge.

Makes 1 cocktail.

Jake’s Dixie Roadhouse, 220 Moody St., Waltham; 781-894-4227.

Good stuff, this--even if he says he's ready to commit, actions are louder than words

Are you ready for a relationship that is going to lead somewhere without you being led on?

It's time to start weeding out the commitment phobics and put your time and effort into men that are looking for the kind of relationship you want -- one that has a future. If you're interested in getting married, ignore these at your own risk. Here's what to look for:

1. His friends are married

If you are interested in a guy, check out his friends' left hands to see if they have wedding rings on. Research has show that if his friends are already married, he's more likely to get married. If all of his friends are still single and in the "party-with-the-boys" phase, that's a bad sign.

2. He's financially secure

Studies show that men who own a home are more marriage-ready. A man who is generally financially stable, and has his ducks in a row, feels marriage is a practical next step for him.

3. He pursues you

The guy who is commitment-ready is going to initiate doing things with you. If you're emailing him and he takes days to email you back, if you have to text him to find out where he is, if you are always calling him, you're chasing a man who's probably not marriage-material.

4. He's willing to wait

Yes, research is telling us what we already know: If a guy gets to know you before getting intimate, he is more likely to commit.

5. He watches DVDs with you when you're sick

Taking care of you when you're sick shows that this guy isn't just in it for the fun and sex. If he wants to be with you in bad times, it's a sign he's in it for the long haul.

6. He gets to know your friends and family

A guy who is thinking long-term wants to truly get to know you. Seeing you interact with your family and friends helps him learn where you come from and more about who you are. The flip side of it is that he will also want you to get to know him! He'll want to see if you fit in with his family and friends. A guy who keeps you separate from the important people in his life is just playing around.

7. He says, "we" instead of "me"

When he switches from "me" to "we", that's a sign he's committing to you at a deeper level. If your guy is all, "I", "me", and "my" instead of "we" and "us" in conversations after you've been dating a while, his mindset is still in single guy mode.

8. He's not afraid of compromise

A commitment-ready guy is going to ask your opinion, consult you about decisions he needs to make, and has the ability to meet you half-way. A bull-headed guy who needs everything his way or it's the highway, isn't ready for the compromise that's naturally part of a mature relationship.

9. He doesn't need excuses

Commitment-phobic guys always have an excuse about why they can't be with you on Saturday night, why they didn't call, and why they aren't ready for a relationship right now. A commitment-ready guy doesn't need excuses, he just needs you.

10. He likes being in a long-term relationship

Some men like being in a monogamous relationship and some don't. The sooner you realize and accept this the better. If he complains all the time about needing space, treats you like a giant burden instead of a gift, and keeps talking about taking things slow, he's telling you he's not ready for a commitment. On the other hand, if he's done with the party scene, enjoys your "couple time" together, and has a strong sense of family, you've found a commitment-ready guy.

Caroline Presno, Ed.D., P.C.C., the "Date Doctor," is a psychotherapist and author of "Profiling Your Date: A Smart Woman's Guide to Evaluating a Man." Find her online at ProfilingYourDate.com.

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, DOUG?

Michelle Branch

Ramblings on break, laziness, heartbreak, nature, and love

So I sit here on summer break, feeling the crunch of what I call freedom anxiety, stuck in that time zone between "YAY, freedom!" and "hurry up and be a grown up while the kids are with their dad for 5 weeks and I don't have to work!"

So far, I've painted and distressed some of my used awful tables I've collected around the house, and I have to say I kinda like em! Antique white paint, lots of sanding, and waaay better character than the shiny wood stain that dated them in an ugly way. I'm the sort of dreamer who has ideas but rarely acts on them--this was a breakthrough for me, as I found discount materials at Big Lots and just went for it! Since I didn't have much invested, there wasn't much risk, and it doesn't matter if no one else likes them!

There's so much more to do around the house--cleaning out the kids' rooms while they can't complain...going through moving boxes that have been lugged around the country for years now and never opened...tagging items for a big garage sale, reorganizing the garage, working in the yard (though I must say, I'm quite happy with my front yard so far--LOVE the finches gathering on the thistle socks just outside my window!)...yet I can't find the motivation or the energy to complete much of it. I have no valid excuse, really.

I've started running daily again and am thinking of going twice a day. This week, I'm not sleeping or eating much, due to a minor broken heart. Well, why not--it's been 6 months since the last one, so I'm due. This was different, though. This was good from the beginning. Maybe too good.

Having checked out the 5 love languages in a book store once and having taken the quick, online test to see (however accurately) what my love languages are, I must say they're pretty spot on. There aren't a lot of questions on the quiz, but the results were surprisingly close to what I figured already.

My scores:

10 Words of Affirmation

8 Quality Time

6 Physical Touch

4 Acts of Service

2 Receiving of Gifts

This makes a lot of sense to me--I certainly do need communication and attention to feel appreciated, wanted and needed. So in order to figure out how to make a match feel appreciated, wanted and needed, it is helpful to see what his love languages are, too. I don't think we have to have the same scores, but we do have to recognize the differences and similarities and figure out how to balance what we want with what our partner wants.

Okay, so having figured this all out, it sounds pretty easy, right? But it only works if both parties are willing to participate. If he feels cornered, overwhelmed, over-needed by her need for communication, and she feels neglected because he needs more space than she does, it creates tension. Similarly, if she withholds affection or lives far enough away to make it difficult to give him the physical touch he equates with caring, resentment may build.

But when this resentment presents itself, it does help to recognize that even if she isn't physically there enough for him, she shows him she loves him with her natural love language--writing him long emails or setting aside special moments to spend with him. When he is lax in affirming her with words and gets too busy to spend time with her, he may still show her love with his natural love language--touching often when they are together and giving her personalized or thoughtful gifts.

But what if the guy or gal in your life isn't willing to notice these differences as blessings, rather than shortcomings? What if they, instead, chalk it up as your being too much work, too needy?

Siggghh....this is why I sit here, staring at the piles of garage sale items stacked around the house, early run finished, but stomach aching, unable to eat or sleep. If there is anything I enjoy about heartbreak, it's the inevitable weight loss...but it's a shallow, hollow attribute.

Forgiveness is a very big concept in the bible--the most important, arguably. Where would we be if we all threw away every friendship, relationship, family member, colleague at the first small slight against us? Without forgiveness we are no better than animals. Unless we measure carefully what really happened, based on the true heart and intent of the accused, recognizing ourselves as just as capable of committing a similar or worse offense, we deny not only Christ His obedience, and the offender her mercy, but also ourselves the forgiveness we will inevitably desire later.

I can see my flags flying in my garden, patriotic red, white, and blue in the breeze. Huge coneflowers, bee balm, butterfly bush, and a smattering of perennials and annuals grow bright, stretching towards the light, basking in the warmth, bees strafing, finches dining but aware of the cat under the feeder...a moment I wish I could share with the one that, I'm afraid, can't (or won't) fully appreciate the beauty of nature--raw, imperfect, and fallible.

Repost (from fall 07)--->Dating 101 (in honor of my upcoming birthday :(

I’m old now. I just hit that pesky round number with the 4 in front. Sometimes waitresses still card me, which I know they do just to flatter me into a big tip, but I certainly don’t complain.

 

So here I am, old, ending a nine-month-long dating dry spell and suddenly have two dates—not only in the same month, but the same week! And this leads me to the spooky question that’s been haunting my nights lately: where the heck is that handbook of dating etiquette for 2007? I can’t find it! How am I supposed to know the rules?

 

From the beginning of my dating life, I kind of drifted from “love” to “love,” never dating around, but meeting an eligible guy (one who really liked me) and staying with him exclusively until we parted ways (someone else came along). That was fine for teens into 20s, but then I married a really bad one. The past 6 years of singlemotherdatinghood haven’t been much better. Meet someone, fall in love, realize it will never work, spend months nursing a broken heart. I’m ready to move beyond stupidity.

 

So now that I’m ready to be smart, where’s the doggone textbook? I made it through an English literature degree. I even earned a Master’s Degree in secondary teaching. But I’m flunking dating.

 

At this point in life, I’m stable for the first time ever—earning my own income, decent home, no plans to move (EVER) and no one holds the strings to my heart. It feels really, really good not to be in love right now. Oh, I miss all the lovely bits. I miss having my best guy friend lean in, kiss my neck, mumble in a low, personal voice, just for me, tickling my ears with sweet lovely promises…siiiighhh…but I’m not missing the stress, the vulnerability, the pain, or the heartbreak. Yes, I’m damaged. But I love men and dream of the day The One enters my life and we live happily ever after. Still dreamin’.

 

So I’m dating again.

 

Date #1 went something like this: upscale gathering place downtown, bustling with local bigwigs, as well as visiting businessmen eager to patronize the only East Coast-like restaurant and bar in town. Intimate lighting, friendly waitstaff, fireplace in the middle of the room, designed in rich, warm tones. He is tall, slender, with a full head of dark hair, and, although different from his pics, he’s a handsome man, a few years older than I. Very deep voice. My perception is that he’s not disgusted by me, so that’s a start. Actually, we enjoy great conversation, even broaching the forbidden topics of religion and politics with aplomb and agreement. This one could be a keeper. Not sure I love a traveling salesman—my innate skepticism—but I’m willing to spend time finding out.

 

Date #2. Meet in a local Roadhouse—casual, crowded, fun for a Friday night. He brings his male friend—that’s a first for me. It’s okay, though, I guess. If conversation drags, there will be another voice. Good looking men, both. My date’s a businessman—tall, casual but well-groomed, striking blue eyes, full head of thinning hair, charming smile, fit body. He likes to speak about himself and his business, but I don’t mind. I will opine when I feel like it. Friend is rough around the edges. Baseball cap (I assume bald),5 o’clock shadow, very casual. This one is trouble; he knows every attractive woman in the immediate area.

 

I’m perched on a bar stool between them. Our conversation is peppered with stories from their childhood, growing up together, and gentle teasing. After a couple drinks, we head to a local club that, I am assured, has changed from the 20-something meat market it used to be to an upscale adult watering hole. Riiight. It’s now a 20-something meat market with 40-somethings hanging around them. Date and I leave immediately, spending the rest of the evening at the local wannabe honky-tonk, talking and watching. Friend went elsewhere, entertaining his minions.

 

Ding ding ding! First round complete, heading into the second!

 

Both dates want to meet again. It’s a miracle!

 

This is where the trouble starts. I’m a conservative, old fashioned girl. Interpret this, apparently, as LOSER in the dating world. Oh, all men say that’s what they’re looking for. The reality is that they want me to be that way to all other men, while being something else behind closed doors. Which is one thing in an exclusive relationship, leading to marriage. But on the second date? I mean, really. At this point in my life, I am looking for consistency, responsibility, temperance, self-control, maturity, and someone who is not hittin’ it with everyone they meet.

 

So Date #1 and I set a day and time, but he has last minute work problems and can’t make it. No problem.

 

Date #2 and I meet at a local watering hole for a late afternoon quick bite and conversation before my son’s football game—he has told me he can’t stay long, as he’s traveling through on business. Good conversation, snacks. He tells me he’s interested in pursuing something, but keeping it casual, dating others. I agree, that’s best. But when we leave, he gives me a wonderfully long, warm hug and won’t let go—and this leads to a strange little battle. The man just told me he will be dating other women, wants to keep it casual—but basically wants to make out on the street.

Did I miss something? Now I understand that I’m different than most people. I’m socially conservative, which means, apparently, I stand alone in the dating world. When I’m in love with a man exclusively, I am very affectionate and physically demonstrative. But if I were to be that way with every date, then, well—I’d be like any run-of-the-mill liberal…well…as my students would say—‘ho’—runnin’ around out there. I’ve been losing men to those women my entire life. I expect that and it’s okay. Those are not the men I want, anyway.

But how does a 40 yr old single mom date carefully, making wise choices for her future and that of her children, if she is expected to play tongue hockey with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who buys her nachos?

His assessment of the situation: I’m not ready for a relationship. Funny, that. Because I think this is the first time in my life I’ve been ready for a relationship. I’m not desperate. I’m not feeling a need to be with a man, even with the holidays approaching. Contentment has long alluded me, and it feels pretty good that I have it now. It’s scary to realize that this is far better than the emotional upheaval I’ve previously known as normalcy—and that I may just prefer it to ever being vulnerable (hurt) again. But isn’t this the point we should all reach before we embark on yet another adventure of the heart? Content, satisfied, almost complete?

 

Do I really have to be pressured to make out on the public street with every second date? What are we, in high school?

 

I guarantee it is going to take a bit longer for me to be comfortable enough, to let down my guard, to feel safe enough to let anyone in past the 60 foot tall steel walls. I want to know he’s serious. I want to know him well enough to be sure he’s not just saying what I want to hear, acting the way he thinks I will approve, and that he’s willing to be honest with me about everything. 2 dates ain’t gonna do it. Am I really that weird?

 

Where is that doggone textbook! And hey…where is that cute friend in the baseball cap…

Repost (from last fall), The Vanishing Man

What I like about real-life heroes is that they are human beings with faults and foibles. Superheroes are great, but give me a real man any day. Intriguing is a self-deprecating half-smile, self-conscious duck of the head, his quiet chuckle…especially when reserved for quiet moments alone with me. Others can believe he’s a superhero, but I want to be the only one to observe the awkward little boy lurking in his past, to be privy to his doubts and fears and unsettling internal conflicts.

 

On the other hand, his inner strength in times of my indecision, his innate confidence in the person he is, unbending convictions based on traditional biblical ethics, and his solid belief that he is exactly what I need, truly lights my fire.

 

But where did all these hawt heroes go? Oh, I catch a glimpse of one now and again, but he either belongs to another woman or for some reason isn’t interested in me enough to follow up.

 

Which brings me to my latest lament: the Vanishing Man. I’ll not go into all the reasons I believe real men are an endangered species—that’s a whole different subject. My focus right now is that moment of disconnect between finding a prospect (specifically online—hey, I work with kids all day, gimme a break) and the moment I realize he has disappeared—or the moment he decides to. I suppose it could be argued that if he so easily vanishes, he was never really found, and in that way there is no loss. Sure, I’ll buy that. I just want to know why and what he’s thinking.

 

Cases (within the past month) in point:

 

1) Very handsome (this has been the month of hawties!), professional, full head of black hair, taller than I, lives less than an hour away, dad of 2 little ones. We talked the entire drive to my parents’ house on the coast (by phone) one weekend—laughing, joking, seriously, interesting. There seemed to be chemistry, and that’s tough for me to find, especially in communication, about which I’m highly picky. We both agreed that it’s best to move into any relationship slowly, as we laughed at each other’s experiences dealing with desperate people. Nice follow-up email, promised to set up a meeting the following week. When the promised weekend passed, I actually went against my personality and initiated an email to him with a tidbit to add to our prior conversation—he answered kindly, with a promise to get together the following week. Nothing. Vanished.

2) Date #1 from Dating 101. Received a call with an excuse for missing the 2^nd date and a request for a date the following week. I agreed, asked him to let me know his schedule, as he is the one traveling here for business. Nothing. Vanished.

3) Date #2 from Dating 101. Random text message, asking me what I’m doing. Excuse me? Whatever. If a man doesn’t make contact with me within 2 days of an outing together, he’s obviously not interested. Do not send me a text message 2 weeks later, asking me what I’m doing. Nunya. As far as I’m concerned, vanished. And although this doesn’t break my heart, it’s still a mystery how the wonderful, caring, tender man he is at first is so quickly replaced with el Dorko.

If it only happened rarely, it really would be no big deal. But I’ve figured that, with all the promised meetings that are never solidified, dates set up and canceled at the last minute, flat-out no-shows, and those who are incapable, apparently, of follow up after a date (I understand nachos are just nachos—still, I’d rather be up front and honest about all impressions and expectations), probly a good 90% of my prospects vanish.

 

Is it me? Perhaps. Or maybe it’s the whole tenuous disconnect of the internet—MTV’s Real World meets Cyber Stalker meets Sugar Daddy and all that. Virtual Vanishment.

Oh, there are plenty of men who would probly show up and be great dates. I just can’t get past the lack of sparks on my end—been there, done that. I can attest to the fact that chemistry does not build over time if it isn’t there in the beginning. I mean, his face isn’t going to change. Familiarity? Sure. But do we really want to base a relationship on having an old shoe around? A worn through t-shirt? The comfy wannabe Ugh boot? I don’t think so.

Well, as Grandma says, I suppose if it’s meant to be, it will happen. I’m not in a hurry. It’s nice to get out and be a grown up occasionally, though, especially with the holidays approaching. Shoot, if I follow Grandma’s advice, I’ll only date rich men, specifically doctors. Or not.

My superhero will:

• Stand tall with a backbone.
• Avoid kowtowing to the ex-wife
• Follow-through completely
• Express needs, concerns clearly
• Put me in my place with a kiss and tenderness
• Fight the world for my honor
• Differentiate between actual needs of kids and manipulation
• Make me weak in the knees with a properly timed whisper
• Devote himself to me alone
• Make a date and keep it. Always.

 

No more vanishing allowed.

I Still Miss You

HERE

Komunistichiskiy vodkiy vecher v'Vegas

My last evening in Vegas this week shared with a dear friend: we toured New York, New York Casino, sampling the beverages of several watering holes, such as Nine Fine Irishmen, with its uberloud Irish jig band and standing room only. Eventually, we made our way to Mandalay Bay Casino and the Red Square Ice Bar, replete with everything from headless Lenin covered with pigeon poo to an all-ice bar to red searchlights and a private deep freeze, where guests bundle up in furs to keep warm while shooting the expensive vodka on a block of ice (in which Lenin's decapitated head is encased). I thoroughly enjoyed an expensive raspberry martini ($15). I was with great company and savored the conversation, esp since I was trained as an electronic warfare Russian linguist waaay back in my Army days and never would have predicted such a bar would exist to glam up the Communist Manifesto.

Note the personal light parade in the last frame (If you look closely, you'll notice a motorcycle cop's sillhouette directly behind our car!) All is well--but a word of advice: drive slowly in wee hours of a Communist vodka Vegas morn!

My favorite song at the moment

Clueless Emma speaks out on Real Men vs Wannabes-- Internet Dating

Gentlemen, let me shed some light for those of you who are still struggling to make it into the Real Man Club. Obviously, I cannot speak for other women, but I like to think there are some who think the same way. Flat out direct and to the point, simple for the simple man, here is some advice for those of you venturing out into the cyber dating world. I've been on and off dating sites for the past 7 years so I've seen it all. It's embarrassing to admit it, but Clueless Emma realizes most of us don't meet many singles in our busy daily life--the internet is the way to go for busy professionals. Still, many men need a big smack upside the head:

Real men read the whole profile before making contact.

Yah, my pic is cute, but the minute you reveal that you're too shallow and lazy to read what I have to say, you're history. I give the link to my blog immediately, so you can see if we agree on fundamental bible and politics. If you have no interest in checking it out, then I have no interest in checking you out. Move along.

And when I say I will not answer email from men who have no picture or are still married, I mean it. Do not send wink after wink or email after email to get my attention. I saw you the first time. No answer is your answer. Move along.

Real men initiate contact.

If you're interested in getting to know me, then do something about it. Pay the fee to join the site--don't expect me to read between the lines to find your hidden email address. Think about it: if I can find it, so can the site operators, and it's just a matter of time before  you get booted. If you can't afford to join, I'm not interested anyway. Move along.

I am, apparently, the last woman left in the world that does not chase men. I do not call men, I do not initiate emails to men, I do not throw myself at men.

Guys, grab your stones. Risk rejection. Just ask. The worst that can happen is no--then you move on. I have had conversations with men that dragged on for days while they dropped hints for me to ask them out or call them. Pay attention here, fellas: I do not want your phone number. I will not call. Yes, I know you are hinting. Quit. Out with it, be direct! A confident man is an attractive man. I want a man in charge, not a doormat.

Real men are honest.

I mean really, how long does it take a woman with at least a pea brain to figure out you lied about your age? Or that you post only pictures that were obviously taken a decade ago. Or that you are not 5'9" (my height). Small lies, yes, but I'm thinking if you lie about something so simple, what else are you willing to lie about? If I had a dollar for every time I've caught a man (and usually I remain silent about it) in a flat out contradiction (one day the last relationship ended 2 years ago, the next 6 months ago), I would be a rich woman.

Y'all don't like women to say they're average weight when they're really obese, or posting pics of friends in the ol' bait and switch. So what if you're 47 instead of the 44 you post? I was told it was to show up in the searches of younger women. Mmhmm. Of course. Better to trick her into noticing you. Speaking of which, I notice there isn't a single man who searches more than 3 years older than he is. Always decades younger, never much older. (Except for the occasional 20-something looking for an adventure, I suppose. I just laugh.)

Don't say you are looking for love if you're really just looking for casual sex. If that's what you want, just say so! There are plenty of women willing to cooperate. I am not. And by the way, monogamous does not mean you sleep with only one woman until the next comes along. It implies commitment. Everyone is monogamous for that one particular moment, unless you're into group stuff which is beyond the scope of this post. Move along.

If you want to date around and see many women at the same time, say so in your profile! If I find someone who lights my fire and seems to be worth my time (a rare day, indeed!), I will want to see him without keeping other men on the side. It isn't fair to the ones on the "sidelines" for me to be misleading in any way, and it isn't fair to the guy I'm interested in. If you're not that into me, then say so at the outset and don't waste my time. If you've got your bobber in many ponds, jumping at anything that pulls on it, I don't wantcha on my dock. Move along.

Real men communicate.

If, at any time, you decide I'm not the one for you, tell me! Do not vanish. Do not disappear. Just say so. Yah, no one enjoys rejection, but it is far easier to take when it is accompanied by an honest, direct explanation than when I'm left wondering what I did wrong or what happened. Sometimes it's just not a match.

If you decide you want to give it a shot, to make plans with me, to get together at some point, stay communicative. There is nothing more irritating than a man who gives a general "next month sometime" or "when I get back from this business trip" or even "I may be able to get to Salem on Saturday" with nothing to follow. I know very well that the businesses you run, the bosses you work for, the colleagues you deal with, and the deals you make are not built on "maybe someday" statements.

If I feel like I'm sitting by the phone waiting all the time, unsure of your intentions or your promises to call or visit never materialize, or you profess great interest but don't contact me for days at a time, guess what? I know you are playing games and you've blown your chance. If you're not that into me SAY SO. Do not make empty promises and do not ignore me. I need communication and lots of it. I equate communication with interest, so when you disappear, I assume you are disinterested. Don't make me guess. If you don't want to talk to me, SAY SO and move along.

Real men wait.

I am as carnally created as anyone. I, too, need affection and attention and physical relations. What I don't need is a man who cannot slow down long enough to see if I'm really the one he wants.

The old pathetic excuse, but I NEED it, reappeared recently. No, dear, you don't. You WANT it. That's different. I want it, too. But I want it with a man who wants only me and sees me as the only woman in his future. Men do equate sex with acceptance. I get that. But it doesn't mean it should be the first (or 5th) step in a relationship. Bottom line: you don't want a woman who sleeps with everyone she meets any more than a woman wants a man who does. If you slow down long enough to think it through, you'll find that physicality breeds denial and ignorance. Most bad relationships result from falling in love with the wrong person--usually because sex blinded common sense and rational thought. If you've lasted through my first 4 filters, this one will most likely be the one to do you in.

I was recently told that since I expressed my needs clearly (reassurance, exclusivity, attention, communication, time, etc) in order to establish a strong enough level of trust to move forward in a relationship, he would share his with me. Guess what. He has to have "physical affection" to move into exclusivity. Gimme a friggin break. Real men understand that normal affection patterns: holding hands, cuddling, kissing, dancing, hugging, communication, honesty, conversation, etc., reassure a woman that she can be vulnerable to him. Besides, it's fun. Delayed gratification is a good thing.

Bottom line: if you think you need sex to decide if you like a woman enough to date her exclusively, move along. Cretin.

Real men don't have stupid pictures posted

with ex-girlfriends or wives or Hooters girls or porn stars; with sports cars; with chins resting on hands (can we say feminine?); scantily clad; in a big group of people where you can't be spotted easily; doing something stupid with alcohol in hand, etc, etc. Still stuck in high school mode? Move along.

more on this later, I suppose. I need a break.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

April 13 4:30 pm

Okay, back.

My clothes dryer awaits a new thermostat, so I spent the afternoon in a laundromat. Joy. As I wait for my MP3 player to recharge for my evening run, I shall shed more enlightenment for my bumbling bros.

More advice that popped into my head, watching the clothes tumble for an hour:

Real men don't use "69" anywhere in their usernames.

Real men call within 2 days if they ask for a lady's number.

Real men never vanish.

Real men listen intently, remembering details to bring up later. Gentlemen, this is a biggie. Instant aphrodisiac. I promise.

Real men always offer to drive and never push if she wants to drive her own car and meet him.

Real men never get drunk on an early date. The stumbling bumpkin is never attractive.

Real men never leave her during a date. Ever. Even if he's a stumbling tequila bumpkin.

Real men never pretend they don't remember the night before.

A Real man always comes out to meet her when they don't know each other well. Never, ever make her walk into a strange hotel or neighborhood, especially at night.

A Real man answer questions directly, without a dodge. If he doesn't know the answer right away, he says so. Then he gets back to her when he does.

Real men never hide a sketchy past.

Real men never block a woman on a dating site just so she can't see if he's still on it while he's dating her.

Real men tell her she's beautiful and hot and attractive and funny and that he can't wait to see her again. Unless she isn't and he can, at which time honesty and communication kick in. We know we have a lot of competition. We know it so deeply ingrained into our psyches, you will never have to say so.

Recognize our attention and communication and time and energy for the interest that it is. A doting woman is not a weak woman. There is power in that you have not yet tapped.

Just love us. Only us. Completely. One at a time.

DATE A LIBERAL? NO WAY!

Course, as Dad reminds me when I wax melancholy or doubtful about a potential partner, there's just nobody more right than I, so my choices are pretty much to go more liberal or remain alone. So really, liberal to me can still be standing pretty much in the conservative arena, though I dream of meeting someone who agrees wholeheartedly with me...INTERVIEW WITH CONSERVATIVE FEMALE BLOGGERS (hmmph, nobody interviewed me!)

New Film Shows that Low Birth Rate Kills Economy and Society

An extended adolescence that celebrates self-gratification at the expense of marriage and family is one of the main causes of the world's self-effacing population decline, according to the new film, "Demographic Winter: The Decline of the Human Family."

"Demographic Winter" refers to the low birth rates, particularly in Western countries. "When there aren't enough young people to replace an aging population, we will experience economic collapse and social deterioration," the film contends.

Over the past few decades, it has become fashionable for young people, especially men, to put off marriage until later in life or to avoid it altogether, Kay Hymowitz, a scholar and noted author with the Manhattan Institute, explains in the film.

This is partly because women have become more career-minded and economically successful in recent years and are less inclined to have children as a result, she says. But there is also a certain unwillingness to enter adulthood and all its responsibilities that affects men disproportionately, Hymowitz argues.

"Men have a harder time growing up without women than women do growing up without men," she observes in the film.

No-fault divorce laws and a co-habitation mindset that sidestep the guarantees that come with marriage are identified in the film as major contributing factors behind the looming "demographic winter."

Statistics cited on the film's Web site, for instance, indicate that almost half of all marriages in the West are broken by divorce. Moreover, social scientists find that the children who grow up with divorced parents are less likely to marry and less likely to have children.

Young people who substitute co-habitation for marriage are also less inclined to have children. In parts of Europe co-habitation is becoming more the rule and less the exception. The number of co-habitation partners in Scandinavia, for example, nearly equals the number of married couples, census data show.

Longman sees hope for the future among those who hold religious worldviews and among young people especially.

"There is a self-correction side to this," Longman said.
"Secularism correlates so strongly with childlessness that there is almost by default a shoring-up of the family with traditional values.

Installing A Husband

Dear Tech Support,

Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a 
distinct slow down in overall system performance -- particularly in the
 
flower and jewelry applications, which operated flawlessly under 
Boyfriend 5.0.

In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such
 
as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5 and then installed 
undesirable programs such as NFL 5.0, NBA 3.0, and Golf Clubs 4.1.

Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes 
the system. I've tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but 
to no avail. What can I do?

Signed, Desperate

-------------------------------------

Dear Desperate:


First keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while 
Husband 1.0 is an Operating System.

Please enter the command: 'I Thought You Loved Me.exe', try to download
 
Tears 6.2 and don't forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update. If that 
application works as designed, Husband 1.0 should then automatically 
run the applications Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5. But remember, overuse
 
of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy 
Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1. Beer 6.1 is a very bad program
that will download the Snoring Loudly Beta.

Whatever you do, DO NOT install Mother-in-law 1.0 It runs a virus in 
the background that will eventually seize control of all your system 
resources. Also, do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program.
 
These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0

In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited 
memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider 
buying additional software to improve memory and performance. We 
recommend Food 3.0 and Hot Lingerie 7.7. 

Good Luck, 
Tech Support

 

 

                 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENNY CHESNEY!

26 March 1968

40--See, I'm not that much older--only 7 months!

And I did it! I splurged, even as I'm saving to pay my tax bill next month, I splurged on tickets to see Kenny in June!

Hoping to have a date to take with me by then...I will definitely take pictures and provide details!

HOW TO FIGHT WITH A WOMAN

Good article from Men's Health--pretty spot on, though I think there are many things women can do to help avoid problems from the get-go.

I KNEW THERE WAS A GOOD REASON I DON'T DATE FAT GUYS

An overweight man was jailed for five years after he killed his wife by sitting on her during a domestic dispute.

The 20-stone (128kg) man 'sat on his wife's chest for at least two minutes and broke her ribs in 18 places', said Jan-Michael Seidel, a spokesman for the court in the northern town of Hildesheim.

'It was quite deliberate.'

The woman, who was half her husband's weight, died from her injuries less than a month later.

YOU'LL THINK OF ME

Hairiest man seeks new love

The world's hairiest man is looking for a new love on the internet after breaking up with his girlfriend.

GROSS!!

HILLARY, MARRY ME, BABY!

Study: Too Much Perfume Could Signal Depression

Well. So they say.

I say too much perfume creates illness. You know the woman--rarely washes her sweaters so that she usually reeks of sweat and perfume = eau de skanky. I refuse to cohabit close quarters with anyone who wears any kind of perfume or cologne. In fact, I'd love to levy a very high tax upon the heads of parfum wearers. Forget the cigarette and beer tax. Hit up the stinky people. In my opinion, there is simply no reason to ever wear perfume or cologne. Some of us are near-deathly allergic to it and it makes us truly ill. Here's an idea: take a bath.

HAPPY 2008!

Well, I survived my 40th New Year's Eve and had a great time!

First, we dined at Bentley's Bar & Grill, without a wait--I'd checked online earlier and found no reservations open until after 10pm, so we (I went with my good friend, with whom I often enjoy evenings out) decided to just get a drink and snack in the bar area (which at Bentley's is just as upscale and nice as the dining area, but close enough to the TVs to watch the games). But when we arrived at about 8:30, there were open tables and it was surprisingly not crowded. We were seated near the fireplace, but not close enough, as Bentley's does tend to be chilly.














I recognized two colleagues among the mostly older crowd. There were a few children enjoying a classy dinner with their parents on New Year's Eve, which I found touching.

Bentley's is one of the few places I can go in Salem dressed to the 9's and not feel out of place. I would love to see some competition and a real night life in the capitol city!





I ordered the artichoke and feta ravioli with a house salad, though I really did want to try the Rotisserie Pekin Duck. The ravioli was great and the small portion is deceptive--it's quite filling and with the salad and bread, I had quite enough. Love the portabellos and artichoke hearts and all that cheese! One can't go wrong with pasta! The mixed green salad is not my favorite, though it's healthier and certainly prettier than iceberg. As much as I enjoy Bentley's, I'm not a fan of their salad dressings. I find them often too vinegary and overpowering, so my recommendation is to order dressing on the side, in case you don't like it and would like to try another. Usually I love raspberry vinegarette, but not Bentley's--I went with the honey, which was nicely balanced.




My friend ordered the lamb shank. I've never had lamb, so I can't really compare this dish, but he didn't like it as well as other he's had. It did seem to be overpowered with ginger and I thought I detected nutmeg, but who knows. It was very tender. The potatoes are always good and the green beans were crispy. I love veggies and am always surprised when others don't eat theirs. If I'd only been hungrier...

After dinner and some discussion about where to go, we ended up at the ol' 'standby, The Silver Spur. It's the only place in town where cowboy and cowgirl wannabes can do the Bootscootin' Boogie and the Watermelon Crawl. I have a friend in Texas who went with me last year during a visit, and he's never let me forget just how silly all our cowboy hats and boots are--they're more for the beach, he says, than for a night out. To this I remind him he's in Birkenstock and granola country, whattheheck does he expect? After all, I don't criticize the whining drawl affect played up by the women in North Texas. Well, okay, yes I do. I swear it's fake, along with "Southern Hospitality" and most of the cleavage hanging out at the lake.

Anyway,  we had a blast and "shook our tail feathers" 'til we closed the place down. I love the after midnight predictable mix of hip hop and classic rock. Last night, of course, we enjoyed "free" champagne and hats and noisemakers amidst a cascade of confetti and balloons at the midnight countdown.

I still have a sore throat, dagnabbit, and am tired and have to go back to work tomorrow, but I'm glad I did get out and celebrate the New Year. It's always better than sitting home alone, sick or not. My kids fly in from their dad's tonight, so it will be a late night and early morning for all of us....

OKAY, AFTER WATCHING LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD

I AM NOW IN LOVE WITH BRUCE WILLIS' CHARACTER....SIGH...ALRIGHT, PEOPLE, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA GIVE--I'VE GOT FAR TOO MANY HAWT PRETEND BOYFRIENDS GOIN' ON HERE. ISN'T THERE A DECENT, CONFIDENT, EMPLOYED, CHRISTIAN, SLIGHTLYNAUGHTYJUSTFORME MAN IN ALL OF OREGON??

AMATEUR FOOD CRITIQUE

Today is my parents' 43rd anniversary! They drove up to meet my sister and me for dinner, and we enjoyed a fabulous dining experience at a restaurant my dad's been trying to get to for months now: the Old Europe Inn in Salem, Oregon. None of us have dined there before, and we were pleasantly surprised by the warm, cozy, romantic dining room and Chef Hans Afshar's fascinating, delicious dishes!

I don't remember exactly what we ordered or the specific ingredients used, but I'll try my best to describe our meals. I originally ordered the breast of duck, but the waitress' reaction made me slightly hesitant...she explained that if one isn't a big duck fan [in Oregon, that usually means one is an OSU beaver fan ;) ] one might want to avoid that dish, simply because it's cooked rare to medium and that's a little different for chicken eaters. So, I chose the salmon with cranberries, black rice, and, I believe, saffron
sauce. While we waited (and waited and waited--after all, this isn't McDonald's!) we crunched little crispy bread rounds served with 3 different types of garlic butter and shared a bottle of sweet Riesling.

 

My dinner arrived with the salmon in a round on a bed of black rice and cranberries, and a few crisp green beans on the salmon. It resembled a little whimsical snail, with a mashed potato head and fried dough strip antennae!  You should know that I am not a seafood fan, rarely ever choosing fish if I have a choice. This meal was fantastic and I would order it again in a heartbeat. The salmon was flaky and moist and not at all fishy-tasting. The rice was wonderfully just-right chewy and popped a little in my mouth, like a little happy firework in every bite. Sweet cranberries balanced savory saffron and salmon just perfectly. Mmm-mmm-mmm!

All of us ordered different meals so we could share a bit. My sister enjoyed the special, prosciutto-wrapped sole. It also arrived with black rice and resembled a sort of bird--turkey or pheasant. My dad loved his huge spicy sea scallops (in the shape of another bird, I think). I didn't try the scallops, as I avoid spicy foods. Mom's chicken with mango curry sauce and potato medallions was quite tasty, though not spicy. Her meal had "running chicken legs" crafted from fried dough strips. 

Usually, we don't order dessert, but this was a special occasion and, although we were full, the portions were not the typical, American super-size. Mom and Dad shared a creme brulee. The top layer was too chewy and difficult to break, and it wasn't as big a portion as we've gotten at Hawk Creek Cafe in Neskowin. In fact, the consensus was that, although the custard was good, overall Hawk Creek was better.

My sister and I shared the Dunkle.  The Statesman-Journal describes it as:

Dunkle Couverture: light Swiss chocolate ganache layered in with biscuit patisser and cream caramel. It resembled a light-textured chocolate layer cake; however, the scrumptious layer of cream caramel elevated it to irresistible heights. It was yummy!

I highly recommend The Old Europe Inn. It's not in a great location (we gazed out the window at the Can Can Club across the street) and the best we could tell, restrooms are outside, around the corner. We pined for a central fireplace to add warmth and atmosphere. Nevertheless, the waitress was warm, friendly, helpful, and complimentary, and the chef's creations are a welcome change from the typical Salem fare. Our meals were all about $25 with salads extra. It's expensive by my standards, but so is Olive Garden and Red Lobster--and this far exceeded any chain restaurant.  I am looking forward to enjoying a romantic meal during a special date at the Inn, though I'm not holding my appetite...sigh....

JUST A REMINDER

I love men.  I really do. But my timing sucks. I mean, usually I'm just not that into him, so it's easy to keep my emotions locked away behind that 60 ft steel wall, unreachable and safe. He doesn't call? Oh, well. I Got a meal and drinks and conversation for a couple hours. Ain't no biggie. Vanishes without ever showing, without a real excuse? Ah, well, wouldn't want him anyway.

Rarely, I meet one who, for whatever reason, seems to have that slippery to label type of chemistry--impossible to categorize completely and so evidently missing with other men, and despite my hesitancy and reservedness, OOMPH, there it is!

I just felt that for the first time in about 2 years. I'd about given up on ever feeling it again. Well, truth is that I was quite happy not feeling anything at all. No relationship stress. Easy to concentrate at work (my last love was in the same building and that is NOT something I'd recommend), save tons of money, focus on kids, no emotional rollercoaster, etc, etc. Contentment for the first time. But I made the mistake of dating anyway.

A few of those dates are chronicled here already, but I haven't mentioned most. To give an idea of my recent dating history this year, here's a quick rundown.

There was Pedophile Man, with whom I shared dinner--unaware, of course, that this guy had a thing for his former wife's daughter. When the man told me the 10 yr old "had a body and knew how to work it," and continued to explain just how she did so, I bid him a rather hasty adieu--and  promptly reported him.

There was Loopy Man, with whom I shared a very nice time drinking a couple beers and playing pool for several hours  at  a local quiet watering hole. All went well until he decided it was time to go NOW and literally pushed me out the door and into my car. Repeated emails asking what I did that seemed to embarrass him so badly were answered in rage and accusations. Ok.

So I erased his number until a few months later, when he sent an email saying he was sorry and wanted to try again. Hesitantly, I tested the waters and joked with him about the situation. He said I was "wobbly" and he thought I needed to go home--oh, of course! The first thing one does in that situation is put the offender behind a steering wheel! Well, I wasn't wobbly, and it was a poor excuse, but I consented to meet him for an early dinner--he insisted 5 pm, which frankly, is when old people eat dinner.

Day of the date, he calls a couple times during the day (summer and I'm at home) to chat. It was in the 90s that day, I have no central air in my house, and I was feeling just a little icky sticky and just not hungry yet--so I suggested we meet a couple hours later--you know--at the normal time for dates. Well...that hit the fan with a mammoth smoosh, and he flipped out. I was just too difficult, asked too much, he wasn't going to deal with this blankety blank crap and he hung up on me. For asking to change the time. Even after I said nevermind, 5 is fine. Real nice-like.

SIGH.

There was Hypercharismatic Man who seemed to jump out of his skin to see me. He drove about an hour to have coffee with me, drove out the next night to watch a late-late movie, took me out to dinner later in the week, came over to the house to watch movies afterwards and clammed up. Poof. Vanished. Never heard from again.

Oh, I could go on and on, but I think it's evident. It's me. I'm the only one who is the constant here, and I'd love to tell y'all what exactly is wrong with me, but since no one ever actually talks to me about it, I honestly don't know.

I have lots of faults. Tons. I'm a mess. Baggage. All that, just like any 40-something. I sure seem to have it all together more than a lot of other women I hear about, though, and have improved my situation on my own more than many, as well. 

So as I type this, I'm hurting just a bit, just enough to remind me why I so deeply hide my heart. Didn't know him all that well, but shared several long conversations by phone, in person, in emails. My soul leapt just a bit when I was with him. I hoped again for a minute. The feeling seemed mutual, at moments. Then he texted me, telling me he isn't "at peace" seeing me. A kind way of saying he just ain't that into me, though he sure didn't act that way the other night.

Ah, well.

It's just a reminder that I'm still alive, somewhere under all this mess, and though it's been in little pieces for far too long now, my heart's still beating.

And it's also a reminder that God answers prayers, even when it isn't what we want to hear. I prayed just last night that He would bring this to the forefront quickly--I was going to fall in love with Dayton Guy if He didn't do something soon. I got my answer quickly and efficiently.

The Vanishing Man

What I like about real-life heroes is that they are human beings with faults and foibles. Superheroes are great, but give me a real man any day. Intriguing is a self-deprecating half-smile, self-conscious duck of the head, his quiet chuckle…especially when reserved for quiet moments alone with me. Others can believe he’s a superhero, but I want to be the only one to observe the awkward little boy lurking in his past, to be privy to his doubts and fears and unsettling internal conflicts.

 

On the other hand, his inner strength in times of my indecision, his innate confidence in the person he is, unbending convictions based on traditional biblical ethics, and his solid belief that he is exactly what I need, truly lights my fire.

 

But where did all these hawt heroes go? Oh, I catch a glimpse of one now and again, but he either belongs to another woman or for some reason isn’t interested in me enough to follow up.

 

Which brings me to my latest lament: the Vanishing Man. I’ll not go into all the reasons I believe real men are an endangered species—that’s a whole different subject. My focus right now is that moment of disconnect between finding a prospect (specifically online—hey, I work with kids all day, gimme a break) and the moment I realize he has disappeared—or the moment he decides to. I suppose it could be argued that if he so easily vanishes, he was never really found, and in that way there is no loss. Sure, I’ll buy that. I just want to know why and what he’s thinking.

 

Cases (within the past month) in point:

 

1) Very handsome (this has been the month of hawties!), professional, full head of black hair, taller than I, lives less than an hour away, dad of 2 little ones. We talked the entire drive to my parents’ house on the coast (by phone) one weekend—laughing, joking, seriously, interesting. There seemed to be chemistry, and that’s tough for me to find, especially in communication, about which I’m highly picky. We both agreed that it’s best to move into any relationship slowly, as we laughed at each other’s experiences dealing with desperate people. Nice follow-up email, promised to set up a meeting the following week. When the promised weekend passed, I actually went against my personality and initiated an email to him with a tidbit to add to our prior conversation—he answered kindly, with a promise to get together the following week. Nothing. Vanished.

2) Date #1 from Dating 101. Received a call with an excuse for missing the 2^nd date and a request for a date the following week. I agreed, asked him to let me know his schedule, as he is the one traveling here for business. Nothing. Vanished.

3) Date #2 from Dating 101. Random text message, asking me what I’m doing. Excuse me? Whatever. If a man doesn’t make contact with me within 2 days of an outing together, he’s obviously not interested. Do not send me a text message 2 weeks later, asking me what I’m doing. Nunya. As far as I’m concerned, vanished. And although this doesn’t break my heart, it’s still a mystery how the wonderful, caring, tender man he is at first is so quickly replaced with el Dorko.

If it only happened rarely, it really would be no big deal. But I’ve figured that, with all the promised meetings that are never solidified, dates set up and canceled at the last minute, flat-out no-shows, and those who are incapable, apparently, of follow up after a date (I understand nachos are just nachos—still, I’d rather be up front and honest about all impressions and expectations), probly a good 90% of my prospects vanish.

 

Is it me? Perhaps. Or maybe it’s the whole tenuous disconnect of the internet—MTV’s Real World meets Cyber Stalker meets Sugar Daddy and all that. Virtual Vanishment.

Oh, there are plenty of men who would probly show up and be great dates. I just can’t get past the lack of sparks on my end—been there, done that. I can attest to the fact that chemistry does not build over time if it isn’t there in the beginning. I mean, his face isn’t going to change. Familiarity? Sure. But do we really want to base a relationship on having an old shoe around? A worn through t-shirt? The comfy wannabe Ugh boot? I don’t think so.

Well, as Grandma says, I suppose if it’s meant to be, it will happen. I’m not in a hurry. It’s nice to get out and be a grown up occasionally, though, especially with the holidays approaching. Shoot, if I follow Grandma’s advice, I’ll only date rich men, specifically doctors. Perhaps not.

My superhero will:

• Stand tall with a backbone.
• Avoid kowtowing to the ex-wife
• Follow-through completely
• Express needs, concerns clearly
• Put me in my place with a kiss and tenderness
• Fight the world for my honor
• Differentiate between actual needs of kids and manipulation
• Make me weak in the knees with a properly timed whisper
• Devote himself to me alone
• Make a date and keep it. Always.

 

No more vanishing allowed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FAIRY TALES AND COFFEE BEANS: REVISITING THE PAST—STILL RELEVANT TODAY…

But for the grace of God I am what I am; and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain: but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. 1 Corinthians 15:10

It isn’t as if I planned to end up this way. Like most young girls who played with Easy Bake Ovens, Fashion Plates, Baby Alive, and Barbie, I dreamt of meeting my prince and starring in my own fairy tale wedding—of being swept away on horseback by a handsome knight with muscular arms, thick dark hair, and fearless blue eyes to a castle on a hill—having lots of babies and loving and laughing and living together happily ever after.

And then I grew up. Reality dealt a cold hand, serving life up in a cup of cheap, milky, watered-down coffee grounds instead of the strong, rich, dark, mysterious roast brewed from the stuff of King Arthur’s romances. As to the origin of my early, naive belief in medieval fantasy, I was raised by still-married, middle-class educators, and led a pretty sheltered existence. Because my dad was the vice principal (as was explained to me years later by a former male classmate in drunken revelation at a toga party) none of the knights-in-waiting dared to breach our moat until my future first love bravely asked me to the junior prom. We shared (mostly) innocent moments dreaming together of the future. Sweet nothings from him sounded like, “Ooh, I’ll love you forever and ever—hey, who’s that new girl?”

Of course, nothing can replace that first ideal blossom of love. Still, as I sit alone at thirty-six surrounded by two sticky kids, a slobbering dog, two Siamese fighting fish, a hygiene-challenged hamster and a hermit crab in my over-knick-knacked, toy-strewn, too-small government-subsidized apartment, drinking generic food stamp coffee while struggling to finish my bachelors degree, I tend to ruminate on the choices I’ve made over the past twenty years. It does not escape me that I should have spent more energy chasing a brilliant career instead of waiting for my elusive prince.

Maybe, by now, I’d be living securely in my own home, enjoying the benefits of non-welfare health insurance and a growing retirement fund, instead of living on child support checks and student loans. Maybe, if I’d planned better, I wouldn’t be dreading a near-future moment when an adolescent creature disguised as my son confronts me with “I wanna live with DAD”—instead, a stable future would rise gently over the horizon, settle contentedly into a primitive Adirondack chair on the back porch donning a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater and a ruggedly-handsome five-o’clock shadow, and join me in a perfect cup o’ properly price-inflated Northwest java. Hence the problem; I can’t seem to envision a future alone. Why didn’t the fairy tale notion ever pan out—and what happened to my castle?

I suppose I could blame my parents. After all, they have been married for nearly forty years. Sure, they know which buttons to push to annoy each other, but they represent for my siblings and me a model of integrity and commitment. Yet, neither of them ever explained the long lost art of keeping a marriage together, or warned me that I would shamefully wear a proverbial Scarlet D when my husband decided to jump the drawbridge. They didn’t teach me that while I was fantasizing about Ken proposing to Barbie in romantic, innocent, heartfelt ways, most boys were fantasizing about making out with her—and Daphne and Veronica and Betty and Daisy Duke. I just figured that as soon as the vows were spoken, a magic spark would ignite a love link so strong that nothing could ever break it. As if.

On the other hand, I suppose I could jump onto the “victim”-riddled Abrams tank and blame the United States Army for misleading me. My boyfriend in college graduated during my junior year and went off to fly jets in the Navy, leaving me to pack up his apartment and ponder the meaning of life. In high school I‘d been an award-winning scholar/athlete, student body president, member of the National Honor Society, and, of course, the vice principal’s daughter. Incollege I majored in chugging contests, rowdy games of Quarters, and spinning grunge for the college radio station. I conveniently forgot to fit classes into my schedule, and got bounced to academic probation without motivation. Through a depressive haze of too many pop-top biscuits and Coors Lights, the fighting donkey brayed its beckoning summons.

So I enlisted to become G.I. Jane. What better place to gain motivation and responsibility (as well as a built-in weight reduction workout plan and college loan repayment) than working amidst platoons of brawny young men? We know from TV commercials that G.I. Joe is a hero; undaunted and fearless, he thwarts all manners of evil with his cool, state-of-the-art weapons to end injustice in the world. Army men are rugged. They are supposed to show up on time, look clean-cut and muscular, show respect for authority, and appreciate a home-cooked meal. I married one.

He was young, fresh and vital—twenty-two to my twenty-four. He was scared to get married; a terrified rabbit shaking in sight of a wolf. But all I envisioned was the castle with a white picket fence and toddlers scampering about, calling us mommy and daddy. I tried to plan a storybook wedding. Twice we set the date and twice it was called off—the second time after the invitations had been mailed. The huge, adulterous red flag flapping in the cold, bitter winds should have been enough to break through my idealistic notions, but one day my betrothed knocked on my barracks door and said, “Ok, I won’t cheat anymore, let’s get married.” And I didn’t run. I called the Justice of the Peace. We gabbed an unsuspecting, young soldier on the way to our car to stand witness for us, and were married that weekend in Vernon Parish, Louisiana in a decrepit single-wide trailer by a man who was half-blind, could barely stand, and kept forgetting our names. His wife wandered about during the short ceremony, cooing into approximately twenty-one bird cages stacked in threes around the living room. The wedding picture today remains stuffed down in the bottom of a box under token nuptial invitations and two impossibly cheesy love letters. My daughter may never see the evidence that her mother was married in ripped up, holey-kneed jeans and hiking boots, or that her father wore a stained beer t-shirt and baseball cap.

Thus began my adventure into marital reality. I left the army after completing the initial four-year tour in order to stay home and raise babies. Our first arrived quickly. He was exactly what I had been longing for, and I loved domestic life…sort of. That magic moment of eternal monogamy never did spark for my wannabe knight—neither did the one that encourages non-violence, devotion, emotional intimacy, financial responsibility, the willingness to avoid lard and tobacco, or to love a manly, stout black cup o’ Joe. The drill-sergeants told us that if they wanted us to have spouses, they’d issue them. I probably should have been suspicious about the stereotypical Army-issue man who enjoys not showering for weeks on end, eats bugs and snakes just for kicks, uses night-vision goggles to watch female soldiers utilizing latrines, and thinks pornography should be provided to every male going on a field exercise.

Nevertheless, eleven years, one divorce, two beautiful children, a slobbering dog, two Siamese fighting fish, a hygiene-challenged hamster, a hermit crab, and a whole lot of coffee beans later, I still haven’t figured out how to raise my children not to believe in fairy tales. Sometimes it seems like they see so much reality they shouldn’t have the guts to dream. They watch me as I procrastinate to write papers for class, fuss about mid-term and final exams, worry about how the bills are going to get paid, and tentatively date with a (probably) terrified look on my face, because I’m not sure that I would recognize my knight this time, either.

Even chatting innocently over a hot mug on a windy, rainy, Oregon winter day, those big warning flags keep on waving. I continue to ignore them. The truth is, I have no one to blame for my poor decisions in life but myself, but I still can’t let go of the dream. And I’m not sure I want my children to. Both my babies, when they were three, told me they wanted to marry me when they grew up. I don’t want to tarnish that pure, romantic innocence; they harbor hopes now of finding their own prince and princess. So, as the comforting aroma of another cheap pot of coffee fills our little apartment, I will snuggle up under a warm blanket with my son and daughter, the biting wind rattling the windows, and read, “Once upon a time…”

 

CLUELESS EMMA

Dating 101

 

I’m old now. I just hit that pesky round number with the 4 in front. Sometimes waitresses still card me, which I know they do just to flatter me into a big tip, but I certainly don’t complain.

 

So here I am, old, ending a nine-month-long dating dry spell and suddenly have two dates—not only in the same month, but the same week! And this leads me to the spooky question that’s been haunting my nights lately: where the heck is that handbook of dating etiquette for 2007? I can’t find it! How am I supposed to know the rules?

 

From the beginning of my dating life, I kind of drifted from “love” to “love,” never dating around, but meeting an eligible guy (one who really liked me) and staying with him exclusively until we parted ways (someone else came along). That was fine for teens into 20s, but then I married a really bad one. The past 6 years of singlemotherdatinghood haven’t been much better. Meet someone, fall in love, realize it will never work, spend months nursing a broken heart. I’m ready to move beyond stupidity.

 

So now that I’m ready to be smart, where’s the doggone textbook? I made it through an English literature degree. I even earned a Master’s Degree in secondary teaching. But I’m flunking dating.

 

At this point in life, I’m stable for the first time ever—earning my own income, decent home, no plans to move (EVER) and no one holds the strings to my heart. It feels really, really good not to be in love right now. Oh, I miss all the lovely bits. I miss having my best guy friend lean in, kiss my neck, mumble in a low, personal voice, just for me, tickling my ears with sweet lovely promises…siiiighhh…but I’m not missing the stress, the vulnerability, the pain, or the heartbreak. Yes, I’m damaged. But I love men and dream of the day The One enters my life and we live happily ever after. Still dreamin’.

 

So I’m dating again.

 

Date #1 went something like this: upscale gathering place downtown, bustling with local bigwigs, as well as visiting businessmen eager to patronize the only East Coast-like restaurant and bar in town. Intimate lighting, friendly waitstaff, fireplace in the middle of the room, designed in rich, warm tones. He is tall, slender, with a full head of dark hair, and, although different from his pics, he’s a handsome man, a few years older than I. Very deep voice. My perception is that he’s not disgusted by me, so that’s a start. Actually, we enjoy great conversation, even broaching the forbidden topics of religion and politics with aplomb and agreement. This one could be a keeper. Not sure I love a traveling salesman—my innate skepticism—but I’m willing to spend time finding out.

 

Date #2. Meet in a local Roadhouse—casual, crowded, fun for a Friday night. He brings his male friend—that’s a first for me. It’s okay, though, I guess. If conversation drags, there will be another voice. Good looking men, both. My date’s a businessman—tall, casual but well-groomed, striking blue eyes, full head of thinning hair, charming smile, fit body. He likes to speak about himself and his business, but I don’t mind. I will opine when I feel like it. Friend is rough around the edges. Baseball cap (I assume bald),5 o’clock shadow, very casual. This one is trouble; he knows every attractive woman in the immediate area.

 

I’m perched on a bar stool between them. Our conversation is peppered with stories from their childhood, growing up together, and gentle teasing. After a couple drinks, we head to a local club that, I am assured, has changed from the 20-something meat market it used to be to an upscale adult watering hole. Riiight. It’s now a 20-something meat market with 40-somethings hanging around them. Date and I leave immediately, spending the rest of the evening at the local wannabe honky-tonk, talking and watching. Friend went elsewhere, entertaining his minions.

 

Ding ding ding! First round complete, heading into the second!

 

Both dates want to meet again. It’s a miracle!

 

This is where the trouble starts. I’m a conservative, old fashioned girl. Interpret this, apparently, as LOSER in the dating world. Oh, all men say that’s what they’re looking for. The reality is that they want me to be that way to all other men, while being something else behind closed doors. Which is one thing in an exclusive relationship, leading to marriage. But on the 2^nd date? I mean, really. At this point in my life, I am looking for consistency, responsibility, temperance, self-control, maturity, and someone who is not hittin’ it with everyone they meet.

 

So Date #1 and I set a day and time, but he has last minute work problems and can’t make it. No problem.

 

Date #2 and I meet at a local watering hole for a late afternoon quick bite and conversation before my son’s football game—he has told me he can’t stay long, as he’s traveling through on business. Good conversation, snacks. He tells me he’s interested in pursuing something, but keeping it casual, dating others. I agree, that’s best. But when we leave, he gives me a wonderfully long, warm hug and won’t let go—and this leads to a strange little battle. The man just told me he will be dating other women, wants to keep it casual—but basically wants to make out on the street.

Did I miss something? Now I understand that I’m different than most people. I’m socially conservative, which means, apparently, I stand alone in the dating world. When I’m in love with a man exclusively, I am very affectionate and physically demonstrative. But if I were to be that way with every date, then, well—I’d be like any run-of-the-mill liberal…well…as my students would say—‘ho’—runnin’ around out there. I’ve been losing men to those women my entire life. I expect that and it’s okay. Those are not the men I want, anyway.

But how does a 40 yr old single mom date carefully, making wise choices for her future and that of her children, if she is expected to play tongue hockey with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who buys her nachos?

His assessment of the situation: I’m not ready for a relationship. Funny, that. Because I think this is the first time in my life I’ve been ready for a relationship. I’m not desperate. I’m not feeling a need to be with a man, even with the holidays approaching. Contentment has long alluded me, and it feels pretty good that I have it now. It’s scary to realize that this is far better than the emotional upheaval I’ve previously known as normalcy—and that I may just prefer it to ever being vulnerable (hurt) again. But isn’t this the point we should all reach before we embark on yet another adventure of the heart? Content, satisfied, almost complete?

 

Do I really have to be pressured to make out on the public street with every 2^nd date? What are we, in high school?

 

I guarantee it is going to take a bit longer for me to be comfortable enough, to let down my guard, to feel safe enough to let anyone in past the 60 foot tall steel walls. I want to know he’s serious. I want to know him well enough to be sure he’s not just saying what I want to hear, acting the way he thinks I will approve, and that he’s willing to be honest with me about everything. 2 dates ain’t gonna do it. Am I really that weird?

 

Where is that doggone textbook! And hey…where is that cute friend in the baseball cap…

Clueless Emma