Some Things THANKFULLY Never Change

Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know the drill…the ole familiar mantra.  Life is about change, right?  Change is inevitable.  Change forces you to grow.  Blah blah blah.  (Damn those motivational speakers!)

Don’t get me wrong.  I do relish some change…in certain situations.  I enjoy changing my hairstyle, my toenail polish, my sheets (oo-lah-lah), underwear, and of course my address (when I moved to Denver).   On the flip side, I HATE changing my own flat tire.

But some things…I just want to stay “the same.”  For comfort reasons.

On top of my “no-changes-allowed” list…tried and true friendships.   You know….the ones you can count on one perfectly manicured hand.

Thankfully, the bond I have with certain girlfriends has never changed (sounds cliche but true).  I don’t have “blood” sisters, so my girlfriends are my “true” sisters.   Yes, our lives have transformed over the years…but our emotional connections haven’t.  True BFFs survive a typhoon of marriages, divorces, hangovers, cross country moves, breakups, breakdowns, newborns, new jobs, bad jobs, no jobs, 50 cases of PMS, and about 1.2 million bad and good dates.  And I haven’t even mentioned the mini-makeovers, pounds lost, pounds gained, and all those damn exercise hours in between.

This comforting reality hit me last week when one of my BFFs (aka Brendy) visited moi from Kansas City.  (I used to live there a few years back.)  As any good hostess, I showed her all the beautiful “mile-high” city highlights.   We sauntered down Larimer Square, rubbed elbows with the cougars at Elway’s, burned some laps at Wash Park, and even conquered Rocky Mountain National Park.

More importantly, though, we just cut to the chase and fell into our old BFF routine….the one that never changed. Same friendship…just a different location.  Our fears…plus our dreams….all rolled into one conversation.   Minutes in, Brendy and I were “in the zone”…best described as a combination of hot gossip, emotional details, genuine reactions….coupled with spurts of laughter, “oh-my-gods,” bedroom details, and various bitch sessions.

Bottom line…who cares about salutations and fluff…when you can get to the heart of the matter efficiently?  Throw in some red sangria and watch the conversation run rampant.

A few days in to Brendy’s visit…..I realized something.  Spending time with her…made me miss her EVEN more!  Of course I had missed her the last few years….but as her departure loomed ahead…and the clock seemed to speed up….we realized the scope. It was huge…and special.  Something I hope every woman experiences.

Brendy and I boo-hood like teenagers leaving summer horseback riding camp the night before her flight back to Kansas City.  We hugged on the couch and felt pretty darn “Hallmark-card” pathetic.   Heck, I’m surprised we didn’t buy cheesy friendship pins…or carve our initials into some poor tree.

After she left, I was seriously depressed all day…secretly sniffling to myself while editing video at work…trying to write an episode.  Brendy texted me from the plane equally as bummed.  Sigh……our big adventure was officially over.   When I got home…I scarfed down potato chips, crawled under a blanket, and watched a chick “Sundance film festival” movie…attempting to think about something OTHER than my best friend’s absence.

Later that night, “Eye Guy” came over to attempt to cheer me up.   Like any man, he wanted to “fix” the problem…then “make out.  :)  And like most women mourning the departure of someone special, I told him I needed my space (aka “get lost”) and to call me the next day.  My pity party was my own and no one else’s…and would certainly not be ruined by some dude.

When the alarm rang the next morning, I made a conscious effort to find my “big girl panties.”  I pulled my mood out of the gutter.  And suddenly….all was “right” again in the world.   Driving to work,….my acoustic satellite music channel acting as a sappy soundtrack…I pondered my blessings

As women…we need each other. It doesn’t matter what stage of life we’re currently “in”…or moving “into”…or “leaving.”

The lesson here….good friends really don’t change…instead…they help you roll, conquer, and survive all of your own life changes. And distance…well, it’s just a small detour.

If you like this post, send it to one of your BFFs.

When Good Men Wear Bad Clothes

Since my blog is all about me “being real”….let’s be real about men’s fashions — or rather the LACK of fashion some men posses on a daily basis.

The bad news — I see a lot of attractive men in their 30s who frankly…are dressing like old-white-JCPenney-grandpa-wanna-bees instead of stylish guys with good jobs and even better personalities.

The good news — women in their 30s are totally open to completely changing a man’s wardrobe and hairstyle (if he indeed still has hair).

Before you men call us “judgemental” or “superficial”…think of this…at least women are seeing the real you…and not the clothes you’re currently wearing.  It’s called POTENTIAL.  We were innately born with more fashion sense than you’ll ever be able to absorb through literature, Men’s Health, and advice from your gay buddies.  We simply don’t care if your clothes are out-of-style…because we can fix the problem with more speed than a Jiffy Lube technician.

“He’s fun, genuine, has a big heart, cute….but he really needs some fashion help.”  Wow…If I had a martini for every time I heard that (from one of my girlfriends’ mouths) I would probably be residing at the Betty Ford Clinic by now.  The key term here is “fashion help.”  The reality – women just want to “help.” Even if it’s not a REAL emergency.

Some quick advice guys…leave the hawaiian shirts, dated golf shirts, tapered jeans, and pleated khaki shorts at home.  Better yet, drive down to the Salvation Army and unload them along with your white AND/OR black Reeboks and Dr. Scholl’s.  One young man’s trash is ALWAYS another old man’s treasure.  Any why you’re at it, toss out those ugly Keen sandals you’ve been hoarding.  Those don’t look fashionable….they just look weird and orthopedic.  Bottom line, if it looks like something your dad or grandfather would even GLANCE AT — (or your grandmother would buy) start using it to clean or buff your car.  You won’t miss it — and in the long run – neither will your future girlfriend.  Also, for the record…I have NEVER EVER EVER heard a woman say…”My boyfriend looks so hot in that golf shirt….You know the one with the crazy stripes.”

It’s so utterly refreshing to hear a man say he needs fashion help.  Guys…Just come clean.  Women in their 30s need help too.  Unloading heavy groceries, changing an A/C filter, and putting windshield washer fluid in the “right hole” currently come to mind.  You scratch our backs (or something else)…and we’ll scratch yours.

Cute be told…my current “Eye Guy” recently called me in for fashion advice. Like ALL men, he possesses numerous items which should have been purged a decade ago.  (Think early 90s fashions from the “Friends” era)  When I asked him why he had NOT recently cleaned out his closet, he replied, “I have attachment issues.”   I responded, “To what, bad clothing?”  We both had a good laugh…but then he booked me for a closet cleaning session later the next week.  I plan on getting him tipsy before the event to deaden the pain of seeing so many bad clothes go “bye-bye.”

Guys..the solution here is actually easy…Just give us a couple hundred bucks and let us run rampant at Target, Banana Republic, and DSW like a sugar-obsessed toddler in Toys-R-Us.  We’ll spend your money wisely and efficiently…creating multiple outfits in a single outing — all, of course, up to our standards.

I promise…we’re not asking you to personally embellish the word “metro-sexual” and make it your new “bumper sticker” mantra.”  We’re not begging you to ONLY shop at Nordstroms and designer boutiques.  We’re not mandating you “DVR” Project Runway weekly.  (We still need you to be a man.)

We’re simply asking you to let us into your world — or rather your unchartered closet.

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.

Somehow Learning to Say NO

Amidst my hectic, whirlwind work day two days ago, my dad sent me a text message which landed me in “lah-lah land” for a brief moment.  Often times, text messages carry NO real substance.  This one, however, left me thinking….”Wow, my dad is right”…as I pondered my current existence.

The text message read….”What can you say ‘no’ to…so you have the time to say ‘yes’ to the important?”

As I thought about this simple question, I actually started to tear up ever so slightly.  No, I wasn’t PMS-ing, I was rather reacting to my present state of mind – which at that moment – was CHAOS.  My dad could sense my borderline panic attack during our earlier phone call, and reached out to me in an efficient time-saving “2010” aka texting manner.

Look everyone….I’m guilty as charged.  I’m so busy saying ‘YES” to things that DON’T matter….I become so exhausted I CAN’T enjoy the things that DO matter.  Where’s the fun in that stupid practice?  It’s “over-saturation” at its finest.

To those of you who frequent my blog, you’ve probably noticed my pathetic absence.  Truth is….I’ve overcommitted myself.  Forget about the current seven day week…I need a nine day week…plus an extra three days for the weekend.  Maybe then, I’ll have time to catch up and actually sleep 8 hours straight.

This spring, I’ve fallen into my familiar “bad habit” pattern — saying YES to everything.  I nod yes to lengthy phone calls with friends and family, yes to happy hours, yes to working late, yes to working through lunch, yes to starting work early, yes to blowing off the gym, yes to cutting it too close, yes to facebook, yes to driving across town for events that don’t matter, yes to staying up a few more hours, yes to frivolous brunches, and YES to things I somehow forget about in entirety the next week.

Then I find myself COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED, unable to enjoy the precious moments to the fullest with close friends….or a special friend….or simply glossing over a spectacular moment…or postponing something that really matters.

What happened to the word “no” in my vocabulary?  I sure didn’t have a hard time saying NO as a toddler OR teenager.  Why did it suddenly sneak away in my 30s?  Wherever “no” went, I desperately it back in my life.  Oh, “no,” I’ve missed you so.

I’ve decided “we” as women love (or rather LIVE) to overcommit.  Dudes don’t seem to have this problem.  I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.  I have never thought to myself…”Wow, my guy friend so-and-so is so so busy and overcommitted in life.  He must be stressed.”  Mostly, men are better at women at saying NO.  (Actually this topic makes for a great future blog post so I’m going to quit typing now.)

Bottom line, here’s my promise to myself….the things I borderline care about will NOT take precedence over the things I passionately care about.  Maybe that’s a lofty order…but I consider it a healthy checkpoint.

And to my good friends and close relatives, if I blow you off from time to time, don’t take it personally.  I may simply be trying to save my sanity that particular week.

In closing…this is me saying “NO” to writing any more words for this post…and YES to hitting the sack before midnight…just barely.

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

A Diggity Dog Weekend in Colorado for Pups

As everyone knows (I’ve heard your giggles), I’ve been carrying around a stuffed dog named Pups the Traveling Labrador the past week.  Pups “mom” found my blog, then sent Pups for a Colorado visit. For the last four years, he has traveled the globe…posing in front of random, beautiful, breathtaking, and humorous locations.  I’m proud to add Vail to Pups’ list of favorite destinations…

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Let me introduce you to the traveling labrador dawg named Pups…
Who said a lot more than “woof” and “ruff-ruff.”

Visiting his new friend, Leaza, Pups headed west…
And gave Denver (along with Leaza’s kids Waylon and Lilly) his doggie-do best….

First to the Colorado State Capitol to check out the sights…
Next to High Noon Entertainment to his doggie delight.

He wrote a script in Leaza’s TV producer cube…
Then worked in the editing bay with his quick creative moves…

Finally before leaving…Pups made a new friend…
Emma, a therapy dog, who had a helping paw to lend.

Early that evening, Pups cruised west on I-70…
Heading to Vail, he knew fun and craziness would be a-plenty…

The night began in Vail Village via a shuttle bus…
He and the crew met many people – including a granola guy named Gus.

A quick stop at Vendetta’s yielded some awesome pizza as a kicker…
Pups finally cut loose and ordered his own pitcher!

Next – dancing at “The Club” – making friends with the ladies…
Pups thought he had died and gone to heaven…and barked, “Oh baby.”

Pups found his way onstage – hanging with the band.
Posing as a backup singer – he felt this was his “life-doggie plan.”

The night ended (in the morning) with Pups snoring in bed….
With visions of snowboarding and Vail blue skies dancing in his head.

Day one of snowboarding started with a bang.
Pups rode up the lift from Lionshead with Leaza and her gang.

Pups picked up pointers from other boarders who offered assistance…
Soon he was riding on his own – this dawg growled persistence!

Before long, Pups was boarding where no dog “had gone before…”
Also –  meeting new friends – eternally partying from his inner core…

He bumped into his Scooby Do, his favorite compadre and hero…
Then conquered some more mogul turns…before his energy dropped to zero…

Day two of skiing and boarding…Pups arose tired and feeling a wee sick.
A cup of strong coffee, some advil, and H2O quickly did the trick!

The last day of Vail Closing Weekend began on a lift heading up…
Leaza and her “dressed-up” gang brought along Pups as he considered himself one “lucky duck…”

Adorned with shades, Pups caught some rays atop Blue Sky Basin…
Hanging with fellow dudes, picnicking, and enjoying periods of just lazin’…

Putting his snowboard aside, he ponied up to some beverages on ice….
Checking out crazy costumes…he howled with laughter and thought, “Dude, this is nice!”

Later that night, Pups recorded all his memories in his pawesome personal book…
He thought to himself…”After a long weekend in sunny Colorado, I’m hooked!”

“Dear Leaza” he wrote…”You are a loyal ‘dog’s best friend.’
In lieu of more laughter, mountain views, and partying….Please let me know when I can visit again.”

Call me Crazy, but I’m Toting around a Lovable, Stuffed Dog! 

Listen up peeps…Leaza has a visitor this weekend.  Yes, I know I’m usually dishing about dating…but for the next week…I’ll be dishing about my new sidekick – Pups the Traveling Labrador.

Before you call me “crazy,” let me explain.  Pups is somewhat like the Travelocity gnome you see posing in pictures all over the world.  His purpose simply is to spread doggy cheer.  He’s a “Good Will Ambassador” of sorts…for pets and humans alike.  Pups has traveled the globe for over four years and has visited DOZENS of countries.  He loves posing for pics in front of the world’s most recognizable sites.

His “mom,” Paula, recently discovered www.myflirty30s.com…and asked if Pups could visit Colorado.  Sooooo…..Friday, April 16th….Pups heads with me and my “posse of friends” to Vail Closing Weekend!  He’s ready for a weekend of skiing, eating, watching concerts, howling at the moon, and enjoying select libations.   Maybe he can help Leaza pick up some hot ski dudes!!??

I figure Pups will be a great icebreaker!  Stay tuned for more pictures…

PUPS CHECKS OUT THE COLORADO STATE CAPITOL IN DENVER

WALKING UP THE CAPITOL STEPS....

THIS CANNON ROCKS!

GOODBYE DENVER....HELLO VAIL!

Taking a Brief Hiatus…

…While recovering from allergy attacks, hectic work schedules, and too many peeps in the kitchen!  Be back shortly….I promise.  (within a few days)

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!!!!!

Exhausted from Pimpin’ Myself Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a night of "pimpin myself out"