Archive for the ‘ManLand’ Category
Dear Jealous Mother of any Man I Have Ever Dated…
Yes, I’m dating your son. But not at gunpoint. He’s a willing participant who signed up for something called “lots of hot sex in a committed, loving relationship that will hopefully god-willing lead to marriage.” So quit making me feel like I’m a criminal.
My big question to you is…why are you so overzealous and jealous? How has your motherly charm turned so utterly smotherly sour? I am silently begging (well really cursing) you to STOP.
No, I’m not on drugs (only the legal kind), I don’t chain smoke. I feed your son on a regular basis…albeit cheese, crackers, olives, dry cereal, and beer. I have a real job…in fact a master’s degree from an accredited university…not one of those mail-order places. My dad doesn’t pay my rent OR my text overages. I know how to clean real silver…and how to make a real Jell-O mold. I adore your son…and I’m not mooching off him. I promise he loves good booze, wine, and entertainment as much as me. I brush my teeth three times a day…which is two more times than him! I only fart when I’m home alone…whereas your son farts consistently home alone with me. Also, his new shirts and his new trendy eyeglasses you oooogle over…those were my ideas…not his! And that bracelet he gave you…I picked it out…in fact I reminded him it was Mother’s Day! So, in NO way shape or form do you oooh and aaah…then give him all the credit. Yes, you raised him right…but he still needs mucho training.
Insecure Mother….Please do not say the following things to ME (otherwise known as the evil American girlfriend, EAG):
1. “You know…you don’t know him like I know him.” (Lady…when was the last time you saw him naked? Exactly.)
2. “One of these days I’m going to tie him to a chair in my house so he can’t leave me.” (I don’t make this crap up.)
3. “He and his brother are just so so so close…it’s shame they don’t live closer.” (Thanks for the “double shot of guilt trip over ice.”)
4. “You know, traveling to America makes me very nervous. In fact…I get hives when I have to leave him behind.” (Yeah, life sucks in this deserted “Day-after-Tomorrow” country called the U.S. of A. How can the rest of us stand living here?)
5. “Hair salons are SUCH a waste of money. You know, I cut his hair until he was 18.” (Eer…not a tradition I’m going to continue…sorry.)
6. “You know, I just can’t believe you (EAG) don’t like lamb and goat cheese…those are my son’s two FAVORITE foods.” (Yes, the world must be coming to an end.)
Insecure Mother….Please do not say the following things to HIM:
1. Within 45 minutes of meeting me…”When are you moving back to England? And WHY aren’t you moving back to England?” (Wow, that must be called classy hospitality.)
2. While trying to establish yourself as the alpha female in the room… “Honey, what was your favorite themed birthday cake I made from scratch for you growing up?” (P.S. I have cake pans…may only use them for dog bowls, but who cares?)
3. While clutching your son with tears in the doorway…“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” when we were simply running errands for an extra 30 minutes while visiting you.
4. After witnessing your son split an appetizer and entrée with me at a restaurant…”That’s NOT enough food for you! Honey, you need more?” (Don’t worry….he’s not starving…we do this all the time when you’re not around and the world NOR his bowel movements are coming to an end.)
5. At the family dinner table…”Honey, you’re not living in America, you’re just visiting.” (Whose apartment is he sleeping in then??)
6. “Now that you’ve met her (EAG), I worry you’re never coming back.” (Honestly, this hurts so much I can’t even write a joke.)
In closing, don’t criticize my religion, my beliefs, numerous other topics that shall remain nameless, the foods I eat, or how much I eat. Don’t attempt to force feed me lamb, liver, fruitcake, or anything covered in gross sauces. (There’s a reason I look this good.) Yeah, sorry I don’t cook like a Paula Dean obsessed-southern woman…but the reality is…I’m trying to avoid heart disease and diabetes.
No, I don’t expect you to be my shopping buddy, my BFF on facebook, or even to remember my birthday. What I do expect is kindness, respect, and gratitude that I have adored your son. And something called “support.” Which unfortunately, I’ll never receive, despite politely bending over backwards to gain your approval. (I’ve shed more tears over this than a gay man at Les Mis.)
If you continue acting this way…I suggest your watch Dr. Phil…followed by Dr. Oz to gain some real perspective on this smotherly psychological condition….which I hope (for your son’s case) is NOT hereditary for any of his offspring.
And the next time I visit (if ever)…I may just ask you…”Hey, do you need a xanax?”
“Cuz I got one upstairs.”
Signed, the woman you ran off
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
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)
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.
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 3rd 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!!!!!
Profile Pic Pitfalls…What NEVER to Post Online!
Often times, we only have one shot to make a good impression. Whether it’s in person – OR in the virtual world of online dating. It’s human nature to quickly judge based on appearance. We can’t fight it…nor can we hide it.
And truth be told, I am BEFUDDLED after perusing the pictures some Denver men choose for their online dating profiles. It’s as if their buddies secretly logged in to their eharmony and match.com accounts and played a cruel joke…posting a plethora of the WORST, most dorky, unflattering mug shots…borderline…blackmail material.
Some of my favorite RECENT “jaw-on-floor” findings include:
10. guy riding a donkey wearing a white “wife beater” circa 1992 (I felt sorry for the donkey and almost called PETA.)
9. smiling dude sitting in monster truck with gun rack mounted right behind his head (I bet you voted for Obama, right?)
8. anything that looks like it came from “Glamour Shots” in the mall! (Does that place even exist anymore?)
7. guy surrounded by his nieces and nephews to illustrate he “likes kids” (No, really you just look creepy.)
6. man dancing at a wedding with his poor date’s eyes “blacked out” (As if that conceals your ex-girlfriend’s or ex-wife’s identity)
5. guy wearing an earring of any sort! (Soooo Kirk Cameron and “Charles in Charge!”)
4. shirtless man covered in face and body paint standing outside Invesco Field displaying Bronco pride (You need to head to the gym after the game. And that wig isn’t helping either.)
3. dude dressed up as woman for “Halloween” (Which team are you batting on here?)
2. guy wearing spandex (ONLY acceptable if you’re on a bike!)
And the BEST/WORST of all:
1. man dressed in camouflage proudly holding up the deer he just shot and killed with his buddies (This isn’t the NRA website mister.)
It’s scary to think these photos represent the “best” these men have to offer. If these are the “good pictures,” what about the “bad ones?”
Yep, the old saying goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” In this case, though, I’m downright speechless. Mum’s the word.
What’s with the Foreign Accent? Because, I Really Want to Hear More.
I’m a sucker for foreign accents. Especially if the accent is coming from the lips of an attractive male, relatively close to my age, and clearly single. Ooo-la-la. Throw in proof of dual citizenship, a Denver address, plus a full head of hair…and this american kitten is smitten!
I admit I have dated a handful of foreign men. “Nic” was my first foreign love – an adorable German fighter pilot who I met early in my journalism career. Distance ended the relationship, but I felt lucky living up my own version of “Top Gun.”
No…I don’t go for the “dark and handsome” latin-lover look. (I’m tooo pasty white for those sun-worshipping types!) Instead, I prefer the slender European man, outfitted with refined stature, and topped off with “oh-so-sexy” high cheekbones. Yes, we would make beautiful children. The kind who end up in the J.Crew catalogue. Happy sigh. Or plastered on a Target billboard. Double sigh.
So imagine my delight when I bumped into a “certain someone” last week at sultry Second Home (lounge bar), in Denver. I had JUST put my coat on…about to exit the dark premises…when I caught a fixed sexy glance from a tall, classy looking guy. Instead of looking away like a schoolgirl, I stared right back, waited a few seconds, then sauntered over with purpose. I would either float – or sink- and I was willing to take my chances. After all, when you’re searching for Mr. Right, who cares if you get blown off by multiple Mr. Wrongs? (Having two strong cocktails certainly didn’t hurt either.)
He saw me coming and smiled. I then busted into his mini circle of men, and bravely said, “Heeeelllo…” Noticing my coat, he teased, “You’re not leaving already, are you?” I stopped in my tracks as his words floated out of his mouth, MESMERIZED by his “I’m clearly not from the U.S.A.” accent. Aahhh…my international man of leisure…right here in good ole Denver.
It only took me about .3 of a second to whip OFF my jacket and come face to face with Mr. International Man. Conversation ensued and he divulged in his syrupy accent, “I’m originally from Belgium, but I’ve lived in the states for 19 years. I live and work in Denver.”
Yes ladies, I love Belgian beer, and crave Belgian chocolates. But hands down, I could easily adore and get addicted to a Belgian boyfriend!
As we continued chatting, I became oblivious to his work colleagues – he became oblivious to my girlfriends. I was giggling – he was laughing…when out of the blue he asked, “So when do you want to go snow skiing?”
Those words, my friends – MUSIC TO MY EARS. Not just the accent part, but the “skiing” part.
He grabbed his phone, plugged in my digits, and it was a painless “done deal.” Looking over my shoulder, I noticed my galfriends…aka…loyal wingwomen…sprawled on a couch, bundled in their jackets, clearly ready to leave the bar since it was almost midnight on a school night. Miranda jumped up, walked over to Belgian Boy, then put him on the spot, “So, did you get her phone number?” He looked somewhat started by her directness, then answered, “Yes.” She looked at me and stated, “Good to know. Now Leaza, it’s time to go.”
As I followed Celeste and Miranda to our car, I smiled…replaying THAT sexy accent over and over in my blond brain. Maybe he thought my somewhat southern accent was hot in return? Hmmmm….Doubtful…but hopeful.
Later that night, I wondered….What if Belgian Boy was NOT from Belgium? What if he was from Chicago? Or hailed from someplace like Des Moines? Would I like him as MUCH “sans” the accent? Would I still be intrigued? Did his accent provide an advantage over american men??
Truth be told….I probably wouldn’t be AS smitten.
I look at it this way – a foreign accent is kind of like bubbles in a bubble bath. (Dudes, quit reading now.) Sure, you love a hot soak when you’re feeling tired or depressed….but add some bubbles, and suddenly things turn tastefully more fun.
Body Shop, anyone?? And don’t forget the Chimay.
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In case you’re wondering….Belgian Boy did call. And he’s a darn good skier….
I'll take a Belgian Man over a Belgian Beer!
