Dating yet Dateless on New Year’s Eve – Ah the Irony!

Oh…the bubbly joy of New Year’s Eve….the counting down of numbers while staring into your lover’s eyes…the tradition of singing Auld Lang Syne at midnight…the hangover that lasts til 5 pm…

Can you tell I’m oozing with sarcasm right now?

As 2011 knocks on my duplex doorstep…I find myself happily standing in a different place than a year ago.  Yes, it’s a new year…Yep, I’ve got 365 new days to covet — and the biggest newsflash of late 2010/early 2011 – I’m sporting a new man.

Not your typical American male…Not your outdoor-obsessed Denverite.  See, this dude speaks with a bloody accent.  And while the accent is hot, his heart is hotter.  He calls a sweater a “jumper”…appetizers…”nibbles”… and an elevator…a “lift.”  I call him (along with my wild friends and dysfunctional relatives) “the Brit.”   He regularly calls me “lovely.”

So far, things are golden in that “puppy dog love/lust” sort of way.  We’ve only had one argument – and it centered around a food product – or as I call it – a “waste product.”   The Brit loves Marmite.  I despise it.  And I’ll never EVER eat it.  Good thing that’s not a deal breaker in his eyes.

The Brit’s engineering career brought him to the states.  (No worries dad, he’s not an illegal immigrant….he possesses an authentic VISA.)  But this Christmas – he headed home for a bit of England cheer…despite the country’s dismal weather.  His original flight back to Denver was December 30^th.  But due to snowstorms, lost baggage, only three snowplows in the entirety of England, and a postponed embassy appointment – the Brit is MIA for another week and a half!  (Bloody bastard!)

Which means…

I’ll be alone on New Year’s Eve – or rather “dateless.”  Sigh…

Of course I’m still “hittin’ the town” with my Sex and the City entourage.  I’ll be ok – my usual “peppy” and talkative self.  After all, I‘m an independent woman who can shovel her own snow, wash her own car, and pay her own bills.  I don’t need a man on a major holiday!  That’s rubbish!  But truth be told – I find it ironic that when I finally have “someone special” to spend New Year’s Eve with – that “someone special” is 4,672 miles away (yes, I looked it up).

So, I admit with an open heart – that I will terribly miss the Brit this New Year’s Eve…and New Year’s day…and for the next several days until he returns.  Yes, we’ve been staying in touch via emails, texts, phone calls, and skype.  However, 80% of communication is non-verbal – which means our relationship is running about 20% of actual capacity.

Our separation makes me ponder the question….”Does distance make the heart grow fonder?”   And as I have learned over the last several days, indeed, it does. I’m probably throwing myself under a truck (or as the Brit would say a “lorry”) for admitting this — but if this blog is about being real….then I must spill the beans accordingly.

Happy New Year to everyone reading my blog for the first, 17th, or last time!  I’m off to hit the shower – then later the bars.  I’m confident the four martinis I’ll consume later tonight will happily heal my heartbreak…at least temporarily.

If you’re looking for me at midnight, look no further than the ladies room…otherwise known as the “loo.”

Why am I Working Out…if Currently No One is Seeing My Birthday Suit?

Let me be frank.  I exercise.  I sweat.  I eat right.  My body fat percentage falls around 20%.  But since I’m single, no one is “currently” seeing me naked on a regular basis.  (My nosy dog and curious cat don’t count.)

At this point, my dad is probably falling out of his rocker (he really does have a rocker) as he reads these words.  But the reality is – my situation is completely relatable to single women (and perhaps men) in their 30s.  Many of us are in “amazing, athletic, physical shape.”  We’re “financially secure.”  Heck, our families refer to us as “successful.”  But sadly, our birthday suits ONLY come out at rare occasions.  It’s part of the world known as “Singledom.”  Personally, I could wear my birthday suit much, much more often…but I’m picky.  And I know this.  Only a select few make it that far into my wardrobe.  (My dad just slipped out of his rocker again.)

My routine goes like this — Three times a week, I snap into auto-pilot and cart my exhausted self to “dance step-aerobics” class…otherwise known as Jazzercise.  (Yes, you idiots, Jazzercise still exists.  We don’t wear Olivia Newton neon headbands…or Jane Fonda fuzzy legwarmers either.  Jazzercise consists of aerobics, dance, Pilates, and kickboxing…minus the “jazz hands.”  It thankfully kicks my ass every time.)

After arriving, I’m locked in a room with 20 other women (and maybe a few gay dudes) – where we begin a love/hate relationship with a rectangular step placed in front of us.  For the next hour, a “mean but peppy” cheerleader-type instructor barks orders at us while we huff and exuberantly puff.  For some reason, she has the ability to happily “yak” about her dating life, family dramas, and recent trip to Maui – while the rest of us just pray to keep breathing and/or standing.  Uttering a sentence is not an option.

I admit, there are days when I want to just give up – and play hooky with a bag of Salt and Vinegar potato chips chased with peanut butter straight out of the jar.  After all, when you’re single, no one really notices if you gain a few pounds.  And no one cares if you wear mismatched pajamas at night.  So, why even step foot into the gym?  Right?

WRONG!

Fifteen minutes into the workout, I feel empowered. The step has somehow transformed into my friend.   I’m kicking the aging process in the face with each knee lift and squat! Along with the release of sweat, comes the mini explosion of endorphins.  Suddenly, anxious thoughts about work, bad dates, endless errands, and loneliness disappear.  I’m elated as I keep up with the 25 year old in front of me.  I also realize I’m doing this workout for MYSELF – not for the next guy who gets a sneak peek at my birthday suit.

I do believe – that one day I’ll meet Mr. Right — and ironically the timing will be “right” for both of us simultaneously.  No more of the typical jargon…”I just got divorced two months ago…”  OR “I’m getting over a bad break-up with my psycho ex…” OR “The lust of my life just moved back to town…”

In the meantime…my gym bag is packed…loaded in the car.

And my birthday suit – it’s spending some quality time at the dry cleaners.

Break-Up Etiquette 101

Wham, bam…see you later ma’am.  Ughhhhhh…the drama of a dreaded breakup.

We’ve all been there.   You’re either the “dumper” or the “dumpee.” Both happen to be two of the toughest spots in the history of mankind.   Your heart hurts, your shoulders shudder, and your eyes glaze over with tears…then rage.  How could this ever happen???

You may think this post is catty, but I’m here to spout out, “This is real!” After donning the hat of dumper AND dumpee for so many years…it’s time for a post about “Break-up Etiquette.”  You can agree, or disagree…but bottom line…my girlfriends and guyfriends chimed in on this universal topic.  After all, who hasn’t been dumped??  As depressing as this sounds, it’s a universal theme for all to miserably share!

The Top 5 Break-Up Rules

1.  NEVER EVER use the line, “It’s not you, it’s me.”  Ugh…newsflash:  Yes, it is ME…or you wouldn’t be breaking up with me!  (After all, no one breaks up with himself!)  Quit trying to be all “self-righteous.”  I get it…you’re not “into me anymore.”  So own up to it, tell us the truth…then move on quickly…to hopefully a psycho and unstable chick without a job.  Then see how you feel four months down the road.

2.  Yes, it’s really OK (and highly appropriate) to kick the ex off Facebook.  Better yet, have a delightful time doing it.  Perform a countdown and then click on the infamous X icon.   Follow it up with a cold beer and you’re golden.  After all, do you really need to see pictures of your ex drooling over his weird, new girlfriend?  Not unless you’re a masochist.  And even if she IS ugly and wearing clothes 10 times too tight — and sporting 10 times too much makeup…and dripping with 10 times too much bad silver jewelry…you don’t need to waste 10 seconds of your life gloating over it.  Save the gluttonous glee and go do something productive in your life.  Like calling up all your girlfriends and telling them about it.

3.  Don’t drop off the face of someone’s planet if you are “in a relationship.”  If you want to call it off, look at that person face to face.  Have the respect for each other to honestly talk and express feelings.  Don’t avoid phone calls all together!  Give each other an equal say.  And if you’ve only been out on a few dates, AT LEAST text the person the “old fashioned way” and explain you’re done.  Give someone the courtesy of knowing you’ve moved on…even if you’ve moved on to NO ONE…or some random person the night before.  Remember, karma’s a bitch…and you don’t want that riding your tail the rest of your dating career.

4.  Don’t steal your ex’s friends…or as one of my bffs says, “Go get your own damn friends!”  People become extremely territorial in this situation.  Envision a pack of wolves.  Sure, if you have made friends with some of your ex-girlfriend’s friends, you can still hang out with them.  But in doses!  Not all the time!  That’s rude to the gal who first had that group of friends.  Yes, you can share.  But BOTH people have to share, not just one.  If you are the “ex,” have the courtesy to give the other person her space first and foremost.  She was there first…NOT you.  So quit trying to take ownership of the situation and mark the territory that was never really yours in the first place.

5.  And finally…after breaking up with someone, don’t call or text asking to get some “late night booty.”  You’re just leading that person on and messing with their emotions.  While men look at it purely a “hook-up,” women tend to look at it as MUCH, MUCH more.  So don’t play with someone’s mind.  Leave the late night booty texts to people who mean NOTHING to you…people you never plan on taking out to dinner.  If you “booty text” a former girlfriend, she will just assume you want to get back together.  And if you genuinely want to get back together, call her in the morning when you’re sober and coherent.

Bottom line, I think it all boils down to character.  Do you have the character to honestly call it off with someone?  Or are you a coward and choose to take the easy way out…vanishing into thin air…leaving your AWOL calling card on the doorstep?

Thoughts?

Rekindling with Old “Non-Flames”

Everything comes full circle, right? Even in dating.  Guys you thought were “Bye-Bye” are suddenly saying “Hi Hi”… a year later.  In droves!!

Here’s the scenario… You meet someone date-worthy…make a connection…hit the town a few times…and he suddenly drops off the planet.  No hurt feelings, because the sparks never ignited.  Regardless, 12 months later, you find yourself answering an “unfamiliar number” only to hear a “somewhat familiar” voice on the other end. Yep, it’s one of “last year’s guys” trying to hop back onboard the spaceship and orbit in your galaxy.  Or perhaps you run into an old “non-flame” innocently one night, and then realize, “Wow, maybe he is a cutie.”

There’s nothing WRONG with this… In fact, kudos to sincere guys who try to reconnect after a lengthy hiatus.   Because, after all – timing is everything!

I found myself falling “lucky victim” to this scenario recently…

First:  I ran into “Dakota Dude” in downtown Denver.  Not sure why, but we just never clicked last year when we went out on the “traditional match date” consisting of two drinks, one appetizer, and 1.5 hours of staring at each other.  (Come on, you’ve been there.)  It WAS fun to see him after all those months…so good that he snuck in a late night kiss after one too-many-beers at the bar. Thankfully, I’ve kissed enough of my guy friends to know smooches can be strictly innocent in mucho beer-drinking situations.

Second:  Scooter Guy surprised me one Sunday morning calling me at 10 AM sharp.  I let the unfamiliar number go to voicemail, praying it wasn’t an emergency work call or the local firefighter’s union asking for cash.  Turns out Scooter Guy had just broken up with his girlfriend of eight months and wanted to reconnect as friends, asking for a “non-date-date”…whatever the heck that is.  Actually, I’m quite open to this, considering my sweet southern side loves making more friends.  Plus, later, when we actually did meet up for the infamous non-date-date, I hopped aboard the scooter, hung on tightly, and enjoyed the breeze – feeling “oh-so-super” urban and chic as I cruised through Denver’s Platte Park neighborhood.

Third:  Early one morning, the “Aussie Therapist” shot me a nice email asking for a second chance.  He even told me, “I don’t know why we never went on a second date, but now I’m regretting it.”  I had to crank back the old memory log from a year ago and remember our brief time together…but it went something like this… We wined and dined…laughed all night…he walked me to my car…texted a bit afterward…then he disappeared after the first snowfall.  I wasn’t really upset by his departure, as I had a few other guys in the batting cage ready to make their move.  But I always wondered…”What if?”  Now I’m wondering if the accent will still make him irresistible?

So why all these old “non-flames?”  It’s actually fairly simple.

Think about it…dating forces you to be a player…you can’t deny it.  Here’s why… In a typical dating season, you’re juggling roughly three people at once. You really like Guy #1….but you must experience three awesome dates before it gets serious. So even when you’re at the “second date” benchmark with Guy #1…you gotta go on a first date with Guy #2 just to keep the train rolling and your options open.  (Because at any given moment, Guy #1 could drop the ball and leave your galaxy entirely.)  Meanwhile Guy #3 enters the scene.  Yes, he may be a GREAT guy, but if you make it all the way to date #3 with Guy #1…guys 2 and 3 are usually left in the dust.  (Are you still with me?…or are you lost?)

Of course with this post, I’m not advocating you take back the asshole who cheated on you with the 21 year old hairdresser…

Or the real estate investor in Vail who dumped you for his ex-girlfriend…

Or the short Boulder guy who stood you up for the Red Rocks concert…

But maybe, you should give certain “non-flames” a “second chance.”  You never know…you might make it to the third date with one of those lucky fellas.

I’ve Been a Bad, Bad, Bad Bloggy Girl

Let’s face it.  We’re all bad sometimes.

My biggest sin – the absence from my blog the last few months.  Heck, as a former catholic schoolgirl, I need to go to confession.

My sincerest apologies go out to all my readers who wandered away…I pray you come trickling back.  In droves.  And bring some new friends too.

Perhaps the group most affected by my bloggy absence – my poor family.  They’ve had to actually resort to PICKING UP a cell phone and asking about my dates and tribulations the old fashioned way – through vocal prose.  Gone were those days when they could simply surf to a public site and receive a free “Leaza” update, courtesy of my busy night-owl fingers.  I had them spoiled.  I’m surprised my mom survived without her weekly laughs and/or gasps.

I admit – I got in a rut…a big Tonka Truck one.  It was mostly fueled by a domino effect of dating dilemnas, job stress, summer lovin’, and an endless stream of visitors.  Every time I thought, “I need to blog”…something more important came up…like flossing.  Or reading the Instyle autumn September issue.  Or attending the largest microbrew tasting in the US – conveniently located only 5.3 miles away!

I guess the “best” part of being gone – is that you feel missed.  I received numerous emails with the term, “Are you alive?” and “Please say you didn’t get married” in the subject line.  Geez, I never knew so many people in Iowa were following my dating adventures!  Hugs. I even had close friends offer to “take over the blog” while I got my act together.  It’s as if I was driving a tanker with no hands and my bffs wanted to hop aboard and turn this baby into Operation Bloggy Rescue.  That, my friends, is teamwork…or at least unconditional love.

So…just to briefly catch you up on the life of Leaza…here’s the scoop.  First, I switched to a new HGTV show as a full-time writer.  Let’s face it, I’ve been so busy documenting someone else’s story, I forgot to document my own.  (Thankfully my life does not involve home remodeling.)  Second, both of my grandmothers ended up in the hospital at the same time.  This makes you the ponder the term, “Life is short” along with “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”  I now refuse to let “that asshole” at work affect my mood…it’s not worth it!  And third, I’m officially back on the dating market, eyes peeled and hair curled.  Yep, I’ve already swooned on some great dates, secretly suffered through some others. But all in all, fall is off to a great start.  It’s “hunting season.”

So dearest Blog,

Please forgive the neglect. It’s as if no time has passed, right?  I swear I haven’t cheated on you with facebook.

Love, Leaza

P.S. If you’re new to my blog, consider checking out a few “oldies but goodies” –

Exhausted from Pimpin Myself Out

Finding 7 Minutes of Heaven in 8 Minutes of Speed Dating

So I Told My Mom About My Blog

When Good Men Wear Bad Clothes

aka Bad Bad Bloggy Girl!

Flip My Star Trek Switch and Hear Me Roar!

They say a picture is worth…a thousand giggles.  Right?  Or in this case, a thousand “AMENS!”   (Kudos to eye guy’s bro-in-law for passing on this image.) Counselors should clearly print out copies at marriage retreats, then send everybody home to save time, money, and sanity.

A Universal Letter Addressed to the manly masses….from EVERY WOMAN I KNOW:

************************************************************

Dear Guy “I’m Dating” (or the guy any woman is dating, married to, sleeping with, hoping to sleep with, engaged to, or about to dump)….

Please memorize the above dials on this ever-so-retro Star Trek control panel.

As you can CLEARLY see, women are simple creatures.  Find our optimal frequency, and we’ll love you throughout football season…into the playoffs.  Dial down the wrong buttons, and we’re apt to come unglued at the most inappropriate times…most likely in front of your extended family at Disneyworld.

Guys…with so many switches, what’s NOT to love?  Think of our diverse emotions, our quick ability to switch moods in the mere time it takes you to floss. Can you imagine your life without laughs one moment…and cries the next (all during Extreme Home Makeover)?

Yes, we are neurotic, opinionated, bossy, exhausted, bee-atchy, high strung, and blunt.  But if you look closer at those multi-colored knobs…you’ll also discover we’re lovable, funny, “can’t-live-without,” soft-spoken, intellectual, sexual, and given-just-the-right-amount-of-alcohol…extremely flirty.

So, dudes – find the mood you like…and give our knobs a twirl.  Just try and avoid punching the sensitivity button ALL TIMES of day.  (Although we can’t tell you where that one is located permanently…because it changes on a daily basis.)

For our best “operating results”…read our instruction manual.

Who cares if it’s in Chinese?   The language barrier certainly doesn’t hinder you at Mr. Wong’s Asian Buffet.

If you’re a real man, you’ll read the directions. And if you’ve lost the directions (along with the refrigerator manual)….it’s best to pull over and ask for help.

Signed,

the love or lust of your life (mood-dependent)

Two Roads Diverged in a Wood…and I Took the Dating Road Less Traveled By

In high school, I remember reading Robert Frost’s infamous poem, “The Road Not Taken.”  Little did I know then, how that poem would become a reality for me as a dating adult.

Let me refresh your memory with its famous three lines of prose:

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

In those pubescent, poodle perm days, my immature brain couldn’t relate to Frost’s vision of taking the road less traveled.  Heck, the only road I envisioned consisted of the driver’s ed course which ultimately led to my four-wheelin’ freedom.

But over the years, through my personal ups and down, I have found myself standing at a multitude of crossroads…recollecting on Frost’s sentiment that trekking the unfamiliar path – ultimately leads to a big positive difference.

Don’t worry…I’m not going to bore you with a bunch of stories centered around drama-filled life decisions like career moves, marriage, divorce, and which lipstick I buy at Sephora….blah blah blah.

Let’s simplify it or as I call it …“juice-ify” it.

In dating…we “chicks” often stumble upon “Two Roads Diverged in Wood.”  Women in their 30s find themselves staring down two different paths – when it comes to ONE guy.    Let me paint the picture.  When you meet a potential person of interest out on the town (a.k.a. some dude you think is somewhat hot who actually has a decent job)…you IMMEDIATELY make a choice.  A.  You put him in the friend zone….or B….You chase after the romantic relationship with the BIG chance of losing the friendship all together.  (NOTE:  B is most always the road less traveled.)

As a woman in this age bracket, this dilemma has smacked me in the face numerous times.  After sleeping on it (and drinking heavily while discussing this topic with gfs) I think I have an answer about why we struggle about which path to choose.  Mostly, it’s about the RISK. Do we go after something which ultimately MAY turn out wonderful, yet end quickly?  Or do we save face, take the safe route, and put the guy in the “you’ll never hurt me” zone.  After all, he’ll be around forever then.  Ugh.

The problem is…women in their 30s have built a wall around themselves that’s impermeable.  We’ve becomes “aces” at protecting ourselves.  Just like we’re pros at balancing our own checkbooks, buying our own houses, and organizing our own vacations.  Why open up a potential can of worms filled with tears and rejection when you can avoid all that crap all together?  Hmmmm….  In the long run, it’s simply the no-brainer to play it safe.

To those of you married, this conundrum may sound odd.  You probably think it’s easy when meeting a guy to immediately know “what to do”…what decision to make…and if the guy gets a “thumbs up or down.”   Welllllll………..its not.  It’s a vat of confusion mixed with self pride and peppered with teenage anxiety.

Recently…two roads DID divulge in my personal dating world.  It all started when I met a cute guy randomly at a wine tasting. He’s an optomestrist…so for the blog’s sake, I’ll call him “Eye Guy.”  Like me, Eye Guy is a “Denver transplant.”  I couldn’t quite determine whether he was interested in ME – or just interested in just networking with my friends – expanding his social circle.  But I decided to hang in the weeds, rather than choosing my path, biding myself some time.

A few weeks in…after many shared conversations with Eye Guy…I found myself at that fork in the road…

So…after following my gut…

I threw on my hiking boots and took the path less traveled by…

So far….it IS making ALL the difference…not just in my life…but I hope his.

To the rest of you…I say go for it.  You need the change of scenery.

So I Told My Mom About My Blog

Inevitably, secrets rise to the surface.  This past week, I took a leap of faith (or craziness) and informed my mother about my somewhat anonymous blog.  The time had come to share with her I had transformed from a geeky, straight A elementary school student into a 30-something year old serial Denver dater on the eternal prowl.  (OK…this is a stretch, but you get the point.)

I knew if I didn’t tell her…the news would leak.  Already, my “twin girl-power cousins” were “in-the-know.”  Plus, it was only a matter of time before some random family member got tipsy (aka drunkola) at one of my Irish Catholic family reunions and spilled the bloggy beans.  So…I sent my mother (who lives in Texas) a simple email, came clean about my life in the virtual world…and waited.

Dot – dot – dot….

A few days later, my mom called me and immediately launched into what I prayed would become a “positive lecture.”

She spouted off – right at the top – three main points…”I love the blog!  You’re talented and your writing is humorous.”  Then (after a pregnant pause)…“but every now and then I catch a whiff of bitterness.  And I don’t want people to think you’re bitter.  Because you’re not.”

You know what?  She’s right.  I’m not bitter.  And I don’t want to come across as bitter.  In fact, BITTER could become the new “4-letter word” in the world of 30-something year old dating.  I do, however, want to come across as funny.  I credit my writing style to my slightly sarcastic sense of humor coupled with uncanny ability to laugh at bad relationship snafus.  For some reason, I find humor in situations when other women may shed tears – or break out in rage – or give up!  Maybe I’ll just call it a chronic case of resiliency!

I do, however, see a lot of single women in their 30s who are bitter.  And men too.  But face it, men aren’t really reading my blog like women are – so why waste time talking about men? (My mom might say this is an example of my bitterness.  Lol.)

My philosophy is simple – there’s a BIG difference between “having your guard up” – and acting “bitter.”  And yes, while I’m constantly “on the prowl”…AND keeping my guard up while perusing for Mr. Right….I never want to be considered bitter.  Bitter is bad.  And if you’re bitter – men can sense it before they start talking to you at a bar….Or while they stand behind you at the Target check-out line.  So wash away the bitterness…before it becomes your next cologne.

Yep, I’ve been heart broken, dumped, cheated on, lied to, dissed, stood up, even left stranded in a park…but somehow I keep pluggin’ along – knowing SOMEONE SPECIAL is out there – earmarked for moi.  And if he senses I’m bitter – he’ll just jump ship to the next blond.  I’d rather pour my heart into a possible relationship, take a chance, and face rejection once more again — than GOD forbid – act bitter.

So Mom, thank you for becoming my newest reader.  Please remember – you may not like all my posts.  In fact you may cringe at some of them.  But I hope to offer you many laughs.  I’m sure we’ll disagree at times….but ONE thing we do agree on – I’m NOT bitter.

Also, since you finally have DSL….how long will it take you to figure out I mentioned you in my blog?  Bonus points for figuring out how to “comment” on this post.

Love, Me

XOXOXO

Like Mother, Like Daughter

To All the Guys I’ve Loved (Not Really) Before…..Surprise, You Have New Names

What’s in a Name?  Judging by my long list…a heck of a lot.  And I’m not talking about my own name…I’m referring to the laundry list of guys I’ve dated the last six months.  You know…the list that comprises of “at-first” seemingly normal men – then turns into a roll call of “what was I thinking” men.

First and foremost…I must apologize for being AWOL on my own blog the last week and a half.  Sometimes I do not control my life…instead my allergies, job demands, mediocre dates, snow skiing obsession, and grocery store visits run full throttle and take over.  And secondly, I apologize for writing a blog post somewhat inspired by Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias

So….what’s in a name?  Evidently A LOT if I look at the string of recent Denver dudes who have recently “tolerated,” or been “graced by my presence.”   Some of my favorites….

Metrosexual Mark – Wore more designer clothes than George Michael and George Clooney combined.

Ivy League Cowboy – Harvard grad who worked on a dude ranch…I hope the horses appreciated his degree.

Gaydaddy.com – Had perfect hair…and a perfect son.  Secretly wondered if he should move to San Fran. Too too feminine.

Transitional Man – Moving from Morrison to downtown Denver…quickly turned into “Sent me an email asking for a 3^rd chance,” then “Stood me up” Man.  LOSER!

Mr. Gold Chain – Sporting ugly, thick gold chain all night…Possible Jersey Shore wannabe.

Mr. NYU – Became snotty when I honesty admitted I did not know the NYU mascot.  (Turns out it’s the Violet…HOW LAME!)

Scooter Guy – Showed up to my house on a scooter for our date.  Then told me he stopped at REI  on the way to buy a sweater because he was so cold.

Bipolar Boy – Found the meds in the medicine closet when I was snooping around for dental floss.

Bipolar Boy #2 – What are the chances?  Learned my lesson the first time…so BYE BYE!

Nutty Professor – Was actually writing a research paper on crazy baseball fans.  Glad our tax dollars are hard at work.

Asshole Andy – Basically he stood me up on my birthday.  Yes, this is his REAL name.

Overbite Boy – Need I say more?

Belgium Boy – Sexy accent, but ended up being OCD about money and investments.  He literally asked me if he should buy another oil well or finally furnish his empty condo????

No Job Bob – Felt bad for the guy (we’ve all been there)…but probably not the best time to be searching for Mrs. Right.

Boulder Brent – Obsessed with Boulder in every shape or form…thought of it more as a utopia than just a bunch of rich people living in a bubble.

Barenaked Brian – Decided he would shed most of his clothes off in 3.2 seconds with no warning to moi – for a moment I thought I was in a Sex and the City episode.

At least this list – is long and distinguished.  And it’s growing by the week.  I wonder what they say about me?  Hmmmmm…..

He’s Cute, But Not TOO Cute

Imagine my excitement when I strolled into my much anticipated ”latest” and sometimes “not-so-greatest” eHarmony date…saw my date “in the flesh” for the first time…and gleefully exclaimed to myself, “Yeah!…he’s cute, but not TOO cute.”

Let me set the scene:  Running a fashionable seven minutes late (standard for Leaza)…dressed in my fave jeans…I waltzed into a Cherry Creek bar having NO expectations.  (That’s a hard and fast rule in online dating..have NO expectations.  That way if the guy is a dud…you can avoid devastation in advance.)

Anywho…..As I sauntered into the english pub and spotted “the guy” sitting at the bar, I delightfully discovered that while he was indeed “attractive,” Matthew McConaughey – he wasn’t.  And THIS just made him more appealing.  He was “cute,” but not TOO cute.  In fact, while I thought he was cute, some of my friends would probably turn their cheeks.  And I was OK with that.

I’ve learned the hard way that, yes, even in your mid-30s, hot players still exist.  And embarrassingly enough, I’ve shed a few tears over certain assholes…in private and in public.  You would think men would eventually outgrow the “playa syndrome,” but poll my single girlfriends and they’ll proclaim in unison the epidemic still lives.  Typically the men carrying the strongest strain of this virus – are the ones EASY on the eyes…and HARD on the heart.  They LURE you in with their handsome looks, and somehow you think, “Maybe he’s different?”  But….he’s not.  The lesson doesn’t seem to stick.

Sure, sure sure….appearance counts in the dating world.  I mean who doesn’t want a hot guy to drool over?  (Especially one who still takes center stage wearing a ratty shirt with a 5 o’clock shadow…)  But my strategy is changing.  Today, I’m focusing on overall health and physique.  I call it the “gut check.”  Is this guy going to have a large gut when he’s 40, 50, or 60?  If the answer is yes, yes, and yes…usually my response to “wanna go out again?”…is No, NO, and NEVER.  Not that I’m really opposed to certain guts….instead I’m more opposed to the “end result” of big guts:  heart attacks, couch potatoes, an endless supply of Cheetos, and acquiring a large gut myself (since I’ll clearly be living an unhealthy lifestyle if I end up with this “type.”)

Also, in Denver…dudes have NO reason NOT to be in shape.  You can ski, hike, or cycle almost any day of the year.  If I’m out busting my ass to look good, why can’t these single guys bust theirs?  Of course I’m not expecting my “Mr. Right” to mimic Lance Armstrong or David Beckham…but please don’t turn into Archie Bunker.

So in simple terms…I’m an “anti-gut” kind of girl.  I don’t “do guts.”  That’s my dating deal breaker for 2010.

By the way, I’m “cute”…but definitely not too cute………..this guy however, NOT SO CUTE!!

NO GUTS ALLOWED!!!!!