Birthday Smirk-Day

Yep, it’s my birthday this week – or as most women in their 30s call this glorious day…”Holy heck…one year closer to 40.”

Not that I’m afraid of 40.  I mean 40 is like the new 21….or so say all those celebrities, fashion designers, and Real Hoochey-mama Housewives.  Right?  Except the fact you have wrinkles, a mortgage payment, a ticking clock (even the GYNO agrees), a year’s supply glucosamine in your medicine cabinet, and every time you look at a photo of yourself you think…”I look like my mother!”  Chances are — if you haven’t splurged on Botox, you’ve at least spent HOURS looking at “before and after” photos online until your eyes glaze over.  And suddenly exercise is not something you do JUST for the endorphins… it’s something you do to “keep up with all those trashy 20 year-olds who are stealing your men!”

I admit I’m not in my mid-flirty30s anymore….I’m in my late-flirty30s…I turn 38…GULP… tomorrow.  But I guess the important thing is – I don’t feel late 30s.  (And I don’t think I look it.)  I feel….maybe ….Hmmm….27.

Still – despite my youthful feeling…You know you’re a few years away from 40 when:

1. You’re overdosing on sunscreen, even during a tsunami.
2. You’re obsessed with eating healthy and only buy foods that are dark green or bright purple (Although this does not apply to late-night Taco Bell or gas station doughnuts).
3. You’ve accepted the fact you can’t wear high heels every day and have been caught sneaking into the Crocs store at Cherry Creek mall.
4. You’ve already investigated fertility acupuncture even though you have:  A. No husband   B.  No boyfriend  C.  No upcoming dates
5. You’ve fibbed about your age at least once…or at least…you’ve been “very vague” and kept some guy guessing who was probably younger than your younger brother!

But there is comfort in all of this.  My grandmother told me years ago…”You know Lisa, your mind doesn’t age…only your body does.”  I wasn’t sure what she met by this until five years ago.    What she means is that our emotions don’t disappear along with the progression of the calendar.  We still experience the “ah-hah” moment of newfound love, the angst of a job change, the sadness when we are betrayed, and the “jumping up and down” joy when we reach a goal. (Ask my co-workers – I jumped up and down between cubicles when I found out the seller accepted my offer on my new condo.)

It’s AS IF we are still 17 or 27…somewhere in our psyche.  And I find this extremely comforting as I age gracefully.

Since my birthday always falls around Thanksgiving…I’d like to reflect on my blessings – or in reality — what I survived this last year… because honestly…it was a doozey.

1. Finding “one of the loves” of my life…throwing my heart into it…then realizing it was time to let go…(wretched heartache)
2. Politely demanding a raise, not receiving the raise initially, playing tough (so very awkward for Lisa), then coming to an agreement in my favor (Who knew Lisa had balls?!)
3. Managing three family weddings – and thankfully no funerals (My own personal episode of “Relatives Gone Wild”)
4. Surviving a Denver winter with only a mini-cooper to my name (those miniature snow tires rock!)
5. Tackling the beautiful Colorado ski slopes for 13 sporadic ski days – without injuring myself, innocent children, old people, or punk snowboarders
6. Traveling to Europe – and encountering delayed flights, bus schedules I never undersood, a bitchy, jealous ex-boyfriend’s mother (so so painful), yet thankfully — stunning scenery, amazing food, and loving company
7. Camping with four other girls outside Aspen for a long weekend and somehow not killing each other…because after all…hot coals, bears, and two gallons of red wine don’t mix.
8. Buying a condo…if I ever have to hunt down that many paycheck stubs, W-2 forms, or tax forms again…I may move to Canada and live in a tent.
9. Surviving the holidays…
10. Oh wait…they’re not over yet??  Damn.

This big list makes me wonder…. What will I survive next year?  Who will I meet?  Where will my job take me?  What blessings are just around the corner?

I only know one thing….my emotional and wish-list bags are packed…ready to hop onboard this thing called life.

No, I’m not wearing “mom jeans” (maybe one day) ….but I’m comfortable in my designer jeans…marketed to women not a day over 40.

One of my achievements - becoming a homeowner.... Home Depot here I come!

Pre-Birthday Celebration with the Girls

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.

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)

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.

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

Man…..I need a Manfriend!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Signed,

wingwoman searching for attractive wingman

Boring Women Have Clean Houses

A guy who I recently dated confessed to me once, “My mother always told me – Only BORING women have clean houses.”

Imagine my inner glee upon hearing these profound words.  I secretly prayed, “Thank you Baby Jesus, someone finally understands me.”

I guess deep down – his point was…”Why clean your house when you can spend time having fun?”

Not that I’m a slob…far from it.  But let’s just say…there’s mucho more important things in my life than working hard to shine the bathroom toilet with my old Oral B.  Hhhmmm…things LIKE:  working at my job, working on my inner self, working on my outer self (specifically butt and legs), working to find the cheapest happy hours in town, working to find the most available men in town, working to make new friends, working to keep the old ones, working on that promotion, working to eat healthy, working on my snow skiing form, working to stay mentally fit, working to stay emtionally sound, working on my blog, working to spend money, working on saving money, working to keep my parents happy, working to keep my pets content….

Oh my goodness…I’m exhausted just typing all that crap.  (And I’m only a SINGLE person!)  How do you married peeps with kids keep your own show running and on the air?

Somedays I have NO idea how I juggle everything.  Then I glance around and see the growing “volcano” of clothes on my bedroom chair, the “tumbleweed” of dog hair rolling through the hallway, and the stacks of recycling resembling a Jenga puzzle.  And I haven’t even mentioned the laundry that’s been stashed in the dryer for nine days….(did I even turn ON the dryer??)

Good lord…how did I get so busy?  It snuck up on my quicker than my 30s.  I forgot I’m supposed to be superwoman….work full-time, scrub like Mr. Clean, then throw on a pair of heels, and appear mesmerizing to my “date of the night.”

In an effort to maximize time, women, including my girlfriends, have tried everything to accomplish the following mantra — “I need an orderly house to live an orderly life.”  My friend Lacey planned her life for awhile using an excel spreadsheet – with color coding!  I decided to toss that idea considering I would have to “work” on my excel skills before take-off, thus sucking away more valuable minutes.

Another galfriend, Suzanna, bought the Roomba robot vacuum.  She left work hoping for a mini daytime miracle.  Ended up, Roomba was taking breaks on the job, and could barely suck anything up.  Roomba ended up in the next garage sale – looking for a new mommy.

And then there’s me.  Six months ago, I decided to have groceries delivered to my front door on a regular basis.  Every Friday morning, the milk man from Royal Crest Dairy (just like in Leave it to Beaver) leaves me fresh milk, butter, and eggs on my porch.  And every other Wednesday, courtesy of Door to Door Organics, I arrive home to find a box of yummy organic fruits and veggies waiting to take shelter in my fridge.  I’m not high maintenance…I’m simply trying to maintain my sanity as a professional 30-somethin’ single gal.

Gone are my days of spending hours at Safeway, cruising the aisles – only to lug milk jugs, egg cartons, and 40-ton bags of apples to the car in 10 degree temperatures.  (You’ve been there.)  Distant are my days of balancing five plastic bags at once while grasping house keys, struggling up two flights of stairs, and talking on my cell phone.  (Sound familiar?)

So how much time does this save??  I estimate at LEAST three hours a week.  And my grocery bill remains the same.  It’s a win-win for moi-moi….a godsend at times – especially when I work late or “play late.”

So…what do I do with that “saved time?”  Hmmm……good question.

Well, when push comes to shove….I sure as heck don’t use it to push a vacuum.  What fun would that be?

Ski First, Date Later?

This weekend, I am faced with a potentially catastrophic dating decision:

A.  Ski two days in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with separate groups of friends

- OR -

B.  Go out with a hot guy on Saturday night

To you “non-snow skiers” out there….go ahead and QUIT reading this post.  You won’t get it.  You’ll probably think I’m TOO fickle, finicky, or fanatical.  I’m over it, OK?

That's moi!

“Why can’t you do both?” you may ask…  Well, the answer – it’s simple.  This particular hot date DOESN’T ski or snowboard.  (I desperately wish he did.)  So, I am left leaving to choose….Powder-time – OR – Play-time?  Hmmm….which one will make me happier?

Some backstory here before you start judging:  During the week, I work in a “bomb shelter” – filled to the brim with video editing equipment, exciting gray cubes, flattering florescent lights, and glossy computer monitors.  I love my job, but let’s BE REAL people!  I’m aching for sunlight, gusty winds, the smell of sunblock on my face, and the taste of an “apres ski” beer on my lips.  I need a revival.  Especially after the last three weeks of never-getting-a-lunch-break-because-I’ve-been-so-damn-busy-trying-to-prove-myself.  Phew…

My nail-biting dilemma may sound trite….but it begs the bigger question — As we get older, WHAT are we willing to give up?  What are we willing to COMPROMISE?  I’m realizing as we hit our mid-30s – NOT MUCH.  Is this good or bad?  I don’t know.

What I DO know…the thought of forking over my coveted powder-filled Saturday and Sunday for a man-date – leaves me deflated and dull.  I’d rather choose the sure bet to happiness.  I moved to Colorado to ski – it’s one of my passions.  And I refuse to toss it aside for a make-out session and dinner (although that’s enticing.)

With snow skiing – I feel fulfilled, on top of the world – escapism at its best.

Going on a date – I could end up unfulfilled, at the bottom of the barrel, secretly wanting to escape.  Argh…

In the meantime…I’m counting down the hours til I load my gear, head west, and anticipate that first jaunt off the lift.

Yes, I know Valentine’s Day is two weeks away… I know 40 is roughly five years away… But for now, I’m choosing the mini-vacation over THE GUY.

My hopes – someday I won’t have to compromise.  Someday I can choose “C” and get “All of the above.”