I Got 'Wifed'

You're familiar with the dreaded 'we,' aren't you? You're talking to a handsome man at a bar, say, and things are friendly and good until he says something like, "Well, when we bought our house ..." And you have to sit there and try to act completely unsurprised knowing that you'd just been We'd.

Ugh. "We." It's a nice word when you're part of the we, but when you're single and scouting for a partner, it can be disheartening to hear. (Though, of course, kudos for letting us know, guys, that you are indeed taken!)

Well, I got wifed yesterday.

I think I've mentioned my work crush here and the uncertainty about his status. Rumor had it that he was going through a divorce--the attraction between the two of us almost glowed visibly. (Granted, we never talked about it--and never talked about anything at all, actually. So B-grade movie!) And then, poof!, the mutuality of it vanished. I figured he and his wife gotten back together.

Sure enough: he and I had to work on a project yesterday and at the first opportunity, he brought up his wife. "My wife," he said--not even her name, which I know. And it was so convoluted and unnecessary that I have to wonder ... was he wanting to quell the office rumors (I've heard very few) or was this an explanation for the warmth that had vanished?

Today we worked a little more on the project and actually talked quite a bit--about life things and about his wife. (In general, referential terms--not private stuff.) It's sweet, actually.

More and more it seems impossible that I will meet my sort of person. And, you know, if I don't, that's OK.

Pants on Fire

I believe problems are best dealt with immediately. At work recently I made a $1000 error and, as soon as I collected my horror, I walked into my boss's office, closed the door, and told her what happened. The truth will out, better that I'm the one to out it.

So with J (the 51yo masquerading as a 44yo), I wrote my indignant entry (bet you didn't know it was indignant!) and vented on Facebook (now all my friends know I'm dating online--so be it, I got a GREAT reaction) and emailed J.

I explained my habit of googling my dates and that I fully expected to be googled myself. I said that I had discovered that he is 51, not 44 (I even sent him the link--figured he should know what's out there--perhaps it will encourage him to cleave closer to the truth!). I said that it wasn't his age so much as the variance from the truth that bothered me (though, yes, 51 is truly too close to my mother's age for comfort)--a variance that is not a good foundation for a relationship, not to mention a second date. I wished him luck.

He wrote back and said he appreciated my candor. It's just hard dating at 51, he said.

I kind of wanted to give him a kick because 51 is young! I know so many active, attractive 50+ year-old men. Sometimes I have to stop myself from having tiny crushes on them (out of my age range--truly!). I suspect that J wants a young thing and doesn't have the finances to back it up--hence the lie.

Whatever. Onward! I desperately need to update my profile. I uploaded new, better pics (and have had many more visitors as a result) but things have been hush-hush.

Shenanigan

So somehow I've skated through the online dating world without running into any egregious lies. That's right, none of my dates posted pictures from years ago or said they were seven years younger than they actually were .... until now. And I'm not sure what to do about it, me being too kind and all.

I met "J" Friday night for drinks. Fortunately he recognized me because I didn't recognize him, though he did look vaguely like his photographs. At first I thought that he'd just cut his hair, which had been quite long. Good riddance; I'm not into long locks on a guy. And then as we talked I looked at his face and hands and began to doubt that he was 44, as his profile states. His hair was also suspiciously sans grey. (Hey, tons of people my age have grey--not a grey hair at 44 seems unlikely.)

I decided to focus on the conversation and didn't think about it much. We ended up getting some inexpensive sushi. He wanted to go for dessert, but I demurred and suggested we get together this coming week. Honestly, I didn't think he would invite me out again and that, following the Four Man Plan rules, I would have to invite him on a second date. (Yes, you read that right--I'll save the reasoning for another post.)

When I got home I had a short message from him saying that he had a great time, even though I was too tall and too smart for him. Yes, his 5' 10" was highly suspect--I have yet to meet a man whose profile says 5'10" who is actually 5'10" (same goes for 6'). Illusions of grandeur, I suspect, and not true maliciousness. Perhaps they don't believe me when I say I'm 5'11"? Ho boy, I am very much 5'11".

Anyway, I wrote back something light and friendly to let him know the height thing wasn't an issue. He wanted to get together today, Sunday, and I just wanted a day to myself so again suggested sometime later this week.

It occurred to me just a moment ago to pop over to www.peoplefinders.com. There are very few people by his name the country over, and only one in N____. He's 51.

I don't wish to be cruel or stalkery (people my age assume internet searches; I'm not sure J does--he basically said he wasn't into technology) but I want him to know that I detect an age difference that is beyond my scope of acceptance. He's just a few years shy of my mom's age, for Pete's sake! Any tips for breaking the news? Maybe just saying the bit about detecting an age difference is enough? Or should I point out the website and ask him if its accurate?

He did mention growing up in New York and appreciating the forthrightness there (as opposed to the much more laid back California). Perhaps I should just remind him of that and tell him the fast discrepancy in profile age to actual age is a dealbreaker for me.

Have any of you dealt with this sort of shenanigan? What did you do?

Romance or Chemistry?

Anon. left a great question on my previous post--why stay friends? I'm not sure if the question is "Why bother?" or "Why did you decide to go the friend route?" I'm going with the second interpretation. (If I'm wrong, let me know.)

And here's what I find interesting and perplexing: A/S said he didn't feel the romance on the second date. I said, "Isn't romance something you build up to in a relationship?" And he said no. That in his experience, physical attraction, even, could develop later but romance is always there from the beginning.

Yeah.

So even though I am still really impressed with his contacting me ... I think I dodged a bullet. OR maybe to him "chemistry" and "romance" are interchangeable? I'd understand that. You feel it or you don't. (But I think we all run the chance of erring with dismissing too quickly. How many happily coupled/married people do you know who say, "Yeah, I totally didn't get him at first. Couldn't stand him." I know several.)

But in other news, I am definitely feeling chemistry/romance/whatever with my coworker (CW)! (Too complicated. Ugh.) I can't discern his status and the tale there is too juicy to ask another coworker, lest the gossip start. When I look at CW he practically glows I'm so attracted to him. I know: gross. I only mention this because it's such a rare thing, me being that attracted to a guy.

He and I don't work together much, but we met today briefly to discuss a project and ... I think he tried to impress me a little. I allowed myself to be impressed--a little. (This is something I need to work on. I used to pride myself in "not pandering to the male ego." I'm so ashamed to admit it, but it explains a lot about my dating history. Oops! I didn't mean to be a bitch.) I know I am getting older because I love the lines on his face. (He's in his 30s like me.)

I'm just going to let that one coast. Meanwhile, I'm communicating with two guys on OKCupid (I know--two whole guys!). I desperately need to revamp my profile.

A First

The coolest thing happened! A/S and I spoke Friday and after a good conversation about why the second date was so weird, he let me know that he preferred that we remained friends. Whether we actually stay friends or not is beside the point (though I hope we do): I have never had a man call me after two dates and let me know where things stood! Have you? (My girlfriends are incredulous and impressed with A/S.) That man has chalked up some good dating karma points for sure, and his honesty and forthrightness has buoyed my spirits. I hope he finds his person soon.

The incredibly cute photographer mentioned in the previous post was as cute and nice and funny and great as ever yesterday. I suspect that he is gay after all, and anyway he mentioned a "we." So male or female, I'm definitely not in the running. Oh well. I wore a super cute outfit for the day-long shoot and garnered the attention of his assistant and my coworkers. I still got it. ;)

Or, actually, I think I got some of It back. After three months of regular exercise, I am finally seeing some noticeable slimming and toning. My clothes fit better, I feel better and ... just those two things make me feel far more confident about myself--more than 5 lbs (if that) could warrant.

Sunday night I went to a party with a bunch of friends and had the best time. I ended up staying until the wee hours and dancing my feet off. One of our friends, Drop Dead, was super nice and complimentary and fun, but I know he was just feeling lonely. (Such a nice guy, and so conventionally HOT. I'd prefer someone not so sizzling, you know?)

I'm writing one guy on OKC. I'm not jazzed about him, but I'm following the Four Man Plan credo to not discredit anyone unless he gives me the "ickies." (And being bald or too short or too hairy or ... etc. doesn't count, according to Cindy Lu. Ickies kick in when you feel like he could be abusive or that you wouldn't be safe or anything along those lines.) I need to shine my profile, though, but who has the time?

Just a Little Crush

I am seriously crushing on this photographer we are working with next week. He's from SF and really too gorgeous, but he's also such a nice, smart, articulate guy. I've fallen hard--but not so hard that I won't bounce back.

I've been agonizing over what to wear for the photo shoot (note that I am not the one being photographed). I bought a pair of those trendy skinny pants but am not sure they look right on me--will take them for a test run this weekend. He's so hip, and I just feel very N___ Valley--a style that's hard to describe.

Mainly, I'm trying to remember that you just don't know what a person is looking for, and the best bet is to be yourself and show interest. I am also trying to bolster my confidence by recalling that Bill and TOTGA were two of the handsomest men in [Very Small Town] and they both dug me. Why can't this guy? It's possible, right?

With my luck, he's gay (and so subtly so that I didn't detect it) or engaged.

I got a message from A/S tonight. Just: "Hey, call me when you get this." I was really surprised to hear from him. I expected this would just be one of those "fade to black" situations. But now I suspect he's calling to tell me he isn't interested. (If so, this is a first--a guy has NEVER done that--so maybe it's something else?) I called him back, but it went straight to voicemail. Mystery.

Oh well. A/S is still on my 4MP grid. I need to collect more. Maybe I'll put the crush above on the grid just for the sake of using a space--and for inspiring confidence and hope.

Uno, Dos, Tres ... Quatro

I've done the thing I swore I would never do: I've gone back online.

Yes, as of about 30 minutes ago, I am indeed back in the murky, funky world of online dating. I know--I can't believe it either.

What hath possessed me to do such a thing? The fault lies in two places: this book and gin&tonic. (mostly the former)

I think I missed The Four Man Plan (4MP) craze (partially available on Google Books!), but the book resonated with me. (And here I try to summarize the book and fail completely.) One of my Great Faults in my dating "career" is that I've let men know they were the sole competitor way too soon. It puts way too much pressure on the poor guys and it makes me (sweet, sane little me) obsessive. I am sure that the reason that Guy and Bill fell smack-dab in love with me is that they were trying to win me over, never mind that they weren't competing against men--they were competing against the worst adversary of all: my dark, cold heart.

Another issue? I sleep with guys too soon. I do. I cast no judgement elsewhere, I'm just saying that for me, raging hormones + jumpy nerves = early sex. And that's all fine and good for, you know, a passing dalliance--but for a long-term thing, it's better (for me) not to jump so quickly. The 4MP outlines some great ways to keep it in perspective and under control.

Oh ugh. I'm not describing my thoughts or the book well at all and I sound like I guzzled the kool-aid. If you're at all curious (and I don't know why you would be after reading this), you can buy it at audible.com--and save yourself the embarrassment of buying it at a bookstore. :)

PS: Second date with A/S yesterday. Fun but totally void of zing. He was apparently running on two hours of sleep, which could explain it. I'm feeling very eh about it ... but! He's the only guy in my 4MP mantris (this will NOT make sense unless you've read the book), so onward. I need to collect more men for the mantris--hence the online signup.

(I think I need to explain myself, but the g&t has gone to my head. More later. Wish me luck on the online dating thing. I can't believe I'm doing this--again!)

Problems

First of all, a huge thank you to the wise and wonderful Mimi. Though she has moved on from her blog, she can still treat us to her wisdom and humor! Thank you, Mimi, for reminding me that feelings are feelings are feelings. And can be expressed. (Um. Top of my to do list: Find a shrink.)

This afternoon I emailed Bill. Bill the ex. Bill whose heart I broke nearly a year and a half ago. Bill who I keep in contact with now and then. The very Bill who has been dating a woman for ten months.

I emailed him just to say hey and to mention that I saw him at a distance Saturday. (And, yes, nostalgia--or something--was probably welling to the surface after the TOTGA news.) We emailed back and forth a couple of times this afternoon--very friendly. I made no mention of my dating life whereas he sprinkled his gf's name here and there in his emails. And in his final email he forwarded a bunch of vacation pics--luckily neither he nor his lady love were pictured, but there were plenty of gorgeous vistas, cozy campfires, intimate glasses of wine pictured. It irritated me.

I haven't responded and may not at all. I know I'm sensitive due to the whole TOTGA bit, and I definitely don't want to lash out at Bill over such a minor thing. I don't appreciate having their coupledness flaunted in front of me like that. I suppose it says something that Bill needs to flaunt ...

Yes, I think the best response is no response. I owe him some money. I'll drop him a check in the mail and that will be it.

In other news, that 27yo suddenly started texting me tonight--the one who has a girlfriend, supposedly. His texts are so ... 27yo. At first I thought it was a guy from work by the same name, and it all made sense because the guy at work (very young) has been really friendly lately and blushed furiously when I told him he looked nice one day. Oh, but no--it's not my workmate but this other guy and ... I don't even want to go there. (Yet I can't exactly blow him off too harshly because he's my neighbor's friend. Dammit.)

There are things I need and a 27yo paramour is not one of them.

... Or is it??

Ha. Just kidding.

What I need is A/S to be seen at my house--all 6'4" of him. That'll solve it.

A Former Love Marries

Ugh. TOTGA got married.

I was over him, but still: at first the news (brought to me via a mutual friend's Facebook posts) hit me in the gut. And though I haven't obsessed or rent my hair, I am sad about it. It doesn't help that his new wife is reputably as crazy as his ex. (I like to think I'd be happy for him if he'd married well when in truth I might have given in to jealousy.)

What is it with nice guys and The Crazy? Or maybe TOTGA is less nice and more stupid than I imagined. (Come, come, Ruby. Where's your generous spirit?)

I do have a second date with A/S this coming weekend, so I'm happy about that. He asked me out again right away but through a vicious game of phone tag. We haven't actually spoken since the first date, which seems weird and Not Good to me. But ... I am heeding EMK's advice on mirroring and not stressing. Plus, there's something nice about just saying, "We'll see what happens," and leaving it there.

Otherwise, my dating prospects are slim to nil and that, coupled with TOTGA's marriage and my dark and hopeful thoughts for their unhappiness (so unlike me!), is depressing.

The Date

It was a fabulous first date. A/S and I hit it off really well, and while it's too early to say if this will truly go anywhere, I think there will be, at least, a second date.

Unless we took things too far what with the makeout sessions. Oops. And he lives just under an hour away, and one thing led to another and I spent the night. (No sex, though.)

(Loved, by the way, that he made a decisive first move and kissed me. Oh the pain of being on dates where you KNOW the guy wants to kiss you but just sits or stands there fidgeting.)

I am slightly agitated that I stayed (having read all the sage advice out there) but I also feel shruggy about it. I like A/S but am not emotionally invested--who could be at this point? We may have squashed any mystery or intrigue by all the time (ahem) spent together.

Well, time will tell. I'm off to meet a friend for lunch in downtown N____. It's a hot day here and finally feels like the summer we'd been waiting for, well, all summer.

Wonders Never Cease

There I am, ready to write an update (there's news!) when I get a comment from LV, asking about the very subject of my update: ATM/sushi guy. She's psychic, that LV!

I hadn't heard from A/S since the sushi (and D's subsequent "claim"). I think he liked a photo of mine on Facebook (I looked quite fetching--it was taken a couple of years ago), but otherwise ... hush.

And then he messaged me on FB Tuesday inviting me to A Cool Thing and then dinner. Dinner! A proper freakin' date! The big day is Saturday, and I am scrambling for something to wear--I'm such a girl.

So, yes, finally a little action in N___ (though he doesn't live in this tiny town--of course! a positive, actually). Things are looking up. The confidence is boosted. I feel younger, thinner, smarter, sexier. And all because of a date.

Pathetic? Nah. Not at my age, in this weird wine world.

Even better: I have no expectations.

By the way, some of you might wonder how D's taking this. Not to worry: she did meet a man back east and is heart-thumpingly twitterpated. He's visiting soon. I told her about A/S tonight and said I hoped it wouldn't be weird. She appeared enthusiastic and the only odd thing she said was, "But are you attracted to him?" As if she didn't believe I would be. What tall girl wouldn't be attracted to a tall man with twinkly eyes and dimples? I ask you! (D usually has far different taste in men than I do. The men she finds attractive I find smarmy. Go figure.)

Ask a Girl Out!

I'll call him Chip. (This is the team sport guy, mentioned in the previous post.) Chip because he has a clear chip on his shoulder when it comes to women. So unattractive!

Chip's specific issue was that women always go for rich guys (says he). We stood out by the [game] court, and Chip launched into a diatribe. "If a woman says to me that she didn't like a guy until the fifth date, then I know: she found out he was loaded," he declared. Um, what about getting to know someone slowly? His whining continued until I said, "You know, Chip, it is what it is. Women want security; men want thin women with big boobs." (he's a boob man, take it from me) He shrugged and grunted assent, which I take to mean he realized I had a point. (I didn't get the chance to say that security meant different things to different women, and I should have.) It seems like we women are getting the brunt of the "don't be negative" advice, so it is good to know the gate swings both ways.

Our hanging out wasn't all whining and negativity--thank goodness. He was marginally flirty, which was fun but confusing. Partly because the guy is so weird in giving signals (insecurity perhaps?) and partly because ... I didn't think I was into it. (Which could also explain his weirdness.)

Before, Chip had hinted strongly that we have a "thing" and he promised he wouldn't tell our mutual friend. Yeah, I didn't mention that, did I? He was so vague, though, that I wasn't sure--especially when there wasn't any followup.

If there's one thing I know, it's that I have no interest in a fling with Chip--and no interest in a relationship, either. Friendship, I'd like that--he just keeps throwing this weirdness into the whole thing.

We hugged goodnight at the game, and Chip's buddy gave him an approving head nod, which I wasn't supposed to see. Later, Chip texted me. Among other things, he said I looked amazing. (A shock, since I had been out sweating in the vineyards all day, helping with a video shoot.) Saturday I got a text from him, asking me what I was up to. I didn't see the text for a couple of hours, and when I did I just ... Ugh. (I finally replied that I was working on a writing project--honest-to-God truth.)

OK: If Chip were some amazing, happy, positive guy, I would have suggested we get together--which would have probably been the wrong move. Why? Because I've fallen into the undefined territory too often.

Men of N____: Why can't you ask a girl out on a date? It isn't a marriage proposal and it makes us feel legitimate. There's friends who hang out and then fall in love, and then there's that hanging out thing where there's flirtation and whatnot and before you know it, you have a new f*ck buddy when that wasn't what you were looking for.

I'm rambling. Suffice it to say, no go with the Chipster. Not unless he changes who he fundamentally is and asks me out on a date, for chrissakes. (a hike, a picnic, a drink--doesn't have to be fancy!)

Now, my coworker? Him, I'd gladly engage in a fling. (I won't. I know--pens, company ink, etc.)

Slim Pickings

There's the UPS guy, he's cute--also possibly gay.

There's my coworker who just left his wife. So not conventionally hot, but hot just the same. I love that. (But, yes, bad idea--I know. Don't worry, I'm all bark and no bite. Plus I can hardly talk to him, he makes me so nervous.)

There's this guy, who I am meeting up valley for a team sport (must be ambiguous about which, since it's so searchable) tomorrow night. Yeah, I haven't seen him since then, though we've texted a few times. Once he asked me if I was going to some party. I wrote back that I hadn't thought about it and coyly asked if he was making a suggestion. He then replied that he wasn't going after all. Wha?! I hope his palm hit his forehead after he pushed "send." Needless to say, after that I didn't think twice about him. Until last week, when he emailed me to say (cleverly) that he wasn't sure if he should be offended that I never came out to any of his games. What the hell, right?

And then there's the 27-year-old who just invited me to hang out with him and his single roommate. The 27yo made sure to mention his girlfriend, just in case I was mistaken about his intentions. I did a quick search online and discovered that his friend is 26. Egads. For some reason I didn't tell the 27yo that I am in my mid-30s. Maybe I am amused. Maybe I'm flattered. Maybe I'm touched that I was invited. (Hey, I'm not an easy person to get to know, never mind invite anywhere.) But don't get me wrong: I expect immature jokes, beer, herb and whatever it is that guys in their mid-20s are into these days. It'll be so not my thing. (Except for the beer.)

(Important note: I don't mean to say that men in their mid to late 20s are immature. I just have a feeling these two are.)

So, yes, that's the current rundown. It's painful, really.

Drama, in Miniature

Ladies, have you ever had a friend lay claim to a guy when she really had no business doing so? I mean, how fair is it to go around calling "I call dibs!" when everyone is still getting acquainted?

I find it terribly funny. Unless this whole thing starts getting dramatic, then I won't so much.

The funniest thing? The guy in question has been paying me the most attention, which is why I think D decided to mark her territory. Oh, it's all been very subtle, so please don't imagine visible huffiness/petulance.

I met this guy (who will get a name in the future--if warranted) last week with my friend, D, and another friend A. D knew him professionally and didn't seem interested in him, so what the hey, he and I chatted and laughed up a storm. He lent me his jacket. All very simple and nice. The next day D, A and I met for dinner and D chirps, "Yeah, so I'm thinking about having a summer fling with [the guy]. I really felt we had a connection." A looks really surprised and glances at me and says, "Really?!" And D, clueless (or is she?), says, "Yes, there was a definite spark. I'm going to pursue it."

Whatever. I thought it was amusing, but I wasn't going to discount her experience. Hey, maybe there had been a spark when I wasn't looking! Maybe our flirtations were in my head.

Still, I impishly struck up a conversation with the guy on Facebook, and when he rolled into town yesterday to hang out with a group of us, I definitely sensed ears perked in my direction. I didn't think D was truly interested in him; she goes on about different guys all the time. Plus, she's headed back east for a wedding soon and "just knows" she's going to meet someone fabulous.

Evidence of his interest: As the group of us were heading to a restaurant, he hung back and walked with me, even stopping with me to pull cash out of an ATM (and then later paying with his AmEx despite the wad o' cash in his wallet). And as we were at this particular restaurant, drinking drinks and eating sushi, he talked to me the whole time. I even tried to peel away, remembering that I was making myself too available.

So the guy and his friend had to leave early, and almost as soon as he left, D cozied in next to me and said she was really developing feelings for the guy and that they had shared some "meaningful glances." She's my friend, but really--is she serious?! Either she's delusional or crafty. Crafty because she may realize that I detest drama and will do anything to avoid it.

Well, I got a text from D at midnight last night (grrr) saying that she'd had an hour-long impromptu makeout session with another guy who was in our group. Nice. I'm all for a little action (lord knows I need some) but what D doesn't know is that in this town you have to be really careful about your Who, What, When, Where, Whys. Of course, I think her roll in the hay with the other guy makes her attempted claim on "my" guy void. Don't you think?

Not Lucky--Yet

August is a busy month here in the wine world. During hotter, more normal summers, we would already be in mad dash harvest. As it is, harvest is delayed until the first of September--at the earliest. Instead I've been busy with events and projects--your normal work fare.

And ... last week I witnessed a suicide. I know: awful, unbelievable, disturbing, and etc. I really can't say more here for searchability reasons, but if you'd like to know what happened, email me. Needless to say, that has taken a lot of dealing. (I know. You wouldn't think so--or maybe you would. I am resilient, after all. But it is rough to witness death, never mind a violent end--and that it was purposeful ...)

So, yes, the normal excuses for not writing--or dating!--busyness and, well, death. (Normal excuse? No, I guess not.)

But that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about dating.

Did any of you catch the CNN article a couple of weeks ago that basically said that if we haven't found someone yet it's because we haven't been lucky? (I would link to it but can't find it now.)

I know, not particularly earth-shattering at first glance. The setup was perfection, though. How many of you have heard "Oh, but you're so gorgeous/talented/amazing! Why are you single?" (I see a forest of hands out there.) The author pointed out what all of you know--that this "compliment" has a hidden (or not-so-hidden) barb: Fabulous You must be hiding some sort of dark, hairy, insidious Thing that keeps the men/women at bay.

And don't we all feel that way at times? This is why we pay so much money for therapy or dating coaches or books. We want to know How To Be so we can win over that Someone Amazing.

The author asked us readers to consider our married friends. Are they any more perfect than we? Good God, no. They are themselves--a little amazing, a little troubled, a little funny, a little ugly. And they found love. (Or, they found marriage--we know love and marriage aren't givens.) Again, we just haven't been lucky ... yet.

I'm all for self-improvement. I think it is important to be the best person I can be--within reason. (I will not become OCD about it!) But I'll be that person for myself, not in order to woo someone. Also, I think it's important to stay active and get out there, thus increasing the chances for meeting interesting people.

Anyway, I felt encouraged after reading that reminder.

Good thing, because a friend of mine let me know that TOTGA's girlfriend's Facebook profile announces that she's engaged. (It's not clear that she's engaged to TOTGA, but we assume that's the case.) That knocked the wind out of me for about 30 seconds and then I recovered. Earlier this summer I finally, finally got a grip and recovered fully from all that pining. Jesus.

In other, gripping news, someone at work who is so, so crushable (I swear I had written about him before) left his crazy wife. Of course, this is a definite No Go. But it's fun to think about. :)

Life, Lately

Oh, I have a pretty clear picture of my faults: slightly puritanical about sex (in some regards anyway), out of whack when it comes to men, clueless about the simplest of relationships. But I don't feel hopeless about it. What can I do but laugh and keep learning, right?

I'm reading Julia Child's "My Life in France" right now and I love that she just up and says that she was still figuring things out at the ripe, old age of 37. I'm still in my first half (barely) of my 30s, but I'm still figuring things out. I am leaps behind most of you, I'm sure, but it sure is fun to learn. (Agonizing, sometimes, too.) Bear with me. (Or don't--that's the great thing about blogs; you don't have to read them.)

Things are great on the man front. Great because I am having fun, goddammit, not because I have any dates lined up. Right now I am enjoying meeting men and flirting and not worrying about followthrough.

Note to any man who might be reading this: salsa is a great opportunity to meet women. I'm talking dance, not sauce. Saturday night I found myself at a downtown N____ location, leaning against a bar while my friend, Amanda, danced an expert salsa. I didn't think anyone would actually ask me to dance, what with my height and what with these modern tendencies towards male hesitance. Well, I rested my elbows against the polished walnut not two minutes before this handsome Latino man walked up and asked me to dance. I said I didn't salsa, but he didn't care.

Meanwhile, there was a bank of Caucasian men drinking beer and watching and missing out on the action. My dance partner, Roberto, and I had a lot of fun, never mind that he spoke two works of English and I didn't dance salsa. So, men, if you don't dance, I suggest you pick it up. We ladies love a man who can dance!

New topic: How many hints should a woman drop before she gives up? I'm talking about C. We ran into each other at a restaurant last week and the delight in seeing each other was obvious, and I emailed him after asking him how he liked the place. He wrote back but ... I have suggested places in downtown N___, have mentioned the restaurants and drinks I like all to no avail. I sense interest, but again--no followthrough. (Maybe it's the Height Factor??)

Do I want to be with a man so hesitant? No. So my very own suggestion to myself is: drop it.

Very good. Will do.

On another note, I went to a trivia night at a bar up-valley last night and it became crystal clear to me that my friend (I use the term loosely) had talked me up to the dear, extremely nerdy guy keeping score. (Another friend, when describing the scorekeeper to me said, "Well, he's definitely not 007 ..." Ladies, there's got to be a whisper of sexiness--at least!--in a prospective interest, right??) So all night long, Scorekeeper kept on catching my eye and giving me The Eye, no less. Awkward! If my "friend" had left well enough along Scorekeeper and I might have become friends and something might (ugh, can't imagine) have happened. But nothing can happen now, what with all that hope swimming in his eyes.

I left right after the game, apologizing to my friend-friend for having slept so badly the night before and being so tired. Scorekeeper was disappointed. Tough. Not interested.

So, yes, this is life: the men I am not attracted to stand there waiting for me to bestow favor upon them while the others are like vapor (truly, because I can't think of anyone I'm attracted to at this moment).

Ah, life. I don't mind it. (smile)

What Happened

What happened Sunday was a whole lot of nothing--mostly.

I know it seems silly, but I was stressed because this wasn't a first date even but the guy had expressed clear interest--and he's a friend of one of my best friends ... and I wasn't sure I was interested! I know, perhaps too much overthinking was poured into this but ... I've been known to get overly physical with a guy because I wasn't sure what to do and didn't want that to happen this time.

Ahem. Clearly I like to put the cart before the horse.

LV asked a very good question: have I ever discussed this anxiety with a shrink? Yes, but it's been awhile, and I suppose a refresher wouldn't hurt.

For the record, I hide my little anxieties very well. If I confess to my colleagues (at a happy hour or some such) that I am an introvert at heart, they are shocked. I do the calm, cool and collected thing very well--which is why it feels so good to confess the darker side here. (And I know many introverts who are the same. Introverts are most often not the shrinking violets you see at the dark corners of the room; they are often actors or public speakers--it's true! It's easy to throw a persona to the crowd--as long as we don't have to reveal our true selves and as long as we get copious amounts of down time.) (And by the way, I suspect my anxieties don't have much to do with my introvertedness--more that I just never learned how to be friends with a guy, to not expect anything, to leave sex out of it, for Pete's sake.)

Anyway, what happened was this: the guy (don't know if he needs a name) came over, fixed the thing he came to fix, and I offered him a beer.

All well and good, right? We sat in the living room and talked, awkwardly. I tried to put him at ease, tried to discern whether I was attracted to him (all the while thinking: sometimes it's the guy who doesn't get you to the core that ends up being the love of your life--or so I've heard). We ended up talking about sex, somehow--as in how old we were the first time. I wouldn't tell him (that tale I save for significant others), but he told me about his first time--in general terms, the little stud.

He suggested we get together next week--casually, not a date. We hugged. Fin.

I discussed the whole thing with our mutual good friend. She thinks he's interested. But am I? The whole thing is fraught. Fraught, I tell you!

Oh, I like drama--I'm really not so worked up. ;)

PS--Ironically, another guy is coming over sometime soon to fix something else! And with this one, I know I'm not interested. (Tried to get out of his assisting me, but he insisted, and who am I to stand in the way of a good deed?)

Social Newbie

I am having a mini, well-controlled freak-out. Worse, it's for no good reason.

Most of us, by my age, know how to be casual around men and how to just hang out. Well, gosh, I don't, and there's a guy coming over to my house in an hour to help me fix something.

It's innocuous, on one hand, and then also not: he jumped at the chance to help me with this thing and the email he wrote when he offered to do so was so clever and carefully written that I suspect he's interested.

On the other hand, this isn't a date. I don't know what the expectations here are. I'd like to invite him in for a beer, but I'm not good at those kind of casual invitations that other people seem to pull off. I don't know how to be platonic with guys--with guys who are interesting, that is.

Ack.

Well, I've continued my flirtations out there in the world, befriending a hunky musician Friday night (I swear, all the women were practically throwing their panties at him) and last night I was friendly with a music mogul-type, which landed my friends and I excellent seats at a concert.

See, friendliness counts. I hope I can be friendly/casual/cool when this guy comes over in a few moments! (I die.)

Near Misses

Well, Trouble (of the previous entry) has a long-term girlfriend. She's super cool and lovely and around her, he was studiously not flirty--just friendly. Trouble, you need to dial back the flirt when your cool, lovely girlfriend isn't around! To be fair, he hasn't been inappropriate but his flirtatiousness didn't lead me to believe he had a girlfriend. Anyhoo, now I know.

The paired and married men at work think it's a mystery that I'm single. In their eyes I see a glint of, "I'd date her if I weren't with my wonderful wife/girlfriend." But would they? No, I don't think so. They, in their married/coupledness just feel secure.

Last night's party at the winery was first class. I wish I could tell you about it ... But since I can't, I will tell you about C. C does contract work for us, and nearly from the beginning I've sensed strong mutual attraction--never mind that he's a good deal shorter than me. (Jeez. Why does this happen?) I didn't expect C to be at the party, but there he was, and I was thrilled to see him. We didn't really have a chance to talk until the after party, when we grabbed drinks and shouted at each other over the thumping bass.

And here I confess that I have resigned myself to a Type: the sensitive, somewhat shy guy. I suppose, too, that these kinds of men like me, because I can be so vibrant and exciting around them (whereas guys who are the center of attention steal the show and there's no reason for me to reveal my fabulousness).

So, that's C: somewhat shy, sensitive, artistic, short. We were standing there, talking (shouting) and before I knew it, we were talking about our ages (he's four years younger), dating and marriage. To be clear, marriage came up in terms of parental pressures ... still. There was a lot of arm touching going on throughout. He ended up having to leave long before he wanted to.

Here's the thing: C doesn't strike me as a particularly motivated guy, and I want a motivated guy. Am I being too picky? Hey, I have nothing against shorter men, at least.

After C left, another guy (who I had been working with all evening) asked me if I was into Burning Man. Um, no. I could see the words, "Would you like to go out sometime?" forming on his lips, but I didn't encourage him, so he didn't ask.

A Confession and a Vibe

Oh God. Oh head hung in shame. I have not been keeping up with my cheerful, optimistic, new exercise regime.

My excuse? The winery I work for is having a huge, fabulous, world-class event soon. There is only time to eat, sleep and recuperate. Hence, I have not seen Hunky Neighbor. So, yes, sorry. No exciting news on that front.

In addition to confessing the above, however, I wanted to remark on an interesting phenomenon. This afternoon I happened to be hanging with some guys at work--well, really, one guy in particular, with other guys hanging about. I was wearing a flattering skirt and top (perfect for this very hot day), so that could be it. I definitely got The Vibe from this guy--and actually, I've been getting The Vibe for weeks. Even though he is a good bit shorter than me.

Oh, but he's confident and Trouble. I can just tell. This is a man who knows his way around women. Danger, danger. I've dated these types and know this is a No Go. Still, that pull of attraction is so irresistible!

Or maybe it's just resistible enough to carry a fun flirtation throughout the course of my employment at the winery. Hmmm. That could be fun, too.

This event at the winery will have dancing and much (much) wine. I anticipate some frivolity ... Stay tuned. I hope I won't disappoint. ;) (All within professional reason, of course.)

How Ruby Got Her Groove Back

(Oops. This post accidently published sans text, so if you came here a few minutes ago only to find nothing ... sorry!)

Well, whether I really have my groove back (if I ever had it in the first place) is yet to be determined. Optimism never hurt, I say, so let's just go with the best case scenario, shall we? I have gotten my groove back!

I spent last weekend in Southern California--that part of the state that we Northern Californians turn up our noses at. The traffic, the smog, the silicone, the celebrity mania! Who could love it? Well, I do. (I still don't know if I can handle the traffic.) I had the best time with my friend hashing over Man Issues and Single Issues and Ack-We're-in-Our-Mid-Thirties (tick tock!) Issues. We ate very well and drank too much. We walked a lot, saw celebs, ran stairs ... it was the best!

Part of the greatness was the sheer number of people my age. It was incredible! Even flying down I sat by handsome men (both coming and going)--that never happens!

So I returned to the sleepy, beautiful NV and decided that I am of a certain age and while I am not overweight, I could use some toning and slimming--and this won't happen by magic. Drastic measures needed to be taken.

Tuesday morning I hit the pavement at 5:30 a.m. Yes, that's right: I, who loooove to sleep in, got up 50 minutes early in hopes of whittling away at the thighs and hips. And get this: I met a cute guy. Sort of.

It stands to reason that I meet/see a handsome man on the morning when I roll out of bed, pull on exercise clothes and don't even wash my face or comb my hair because, Aw, screw it. I'm not going to see anyone.

There I am, walking briskly along the side of the road when I hear approaching footsteps behind me. It occurs to me that I am not wearing the right underwear with my Nike pants. (Am I the only one who thinks about these things? As evidenced by pantylines across the nation, some of us don't think about this enough!) I wait until the ambitious runner is next to me and look over and ... Why again didn't I freshen up a bit?

He flashed me a big smile and on he went, all tall and athletic and interesting. I saw him later as I was returning to my neighborhood. In fact we waved and said good morning before I shyly dashed up my sidewalk. (He clearly wanted to chat. But the hair, the face, the pantylines! Is it any wonder I'm single?) That was Tuesday morning.

Wednesday morning I went into work late and so exercised about an hour late. No sign of my hunky neighbor, of course.

This morning, I dragged my carcass from bed, washed the face, combed the hair, wore suitable clothing and didn't see Hunky Neighbor until I had returned from my walk. A car slowed, a window rolled down and he flashed me a brilliant smile. I said, "Good morning!" and darted.

I know, more of the darting. I bet you anything Hunky Neighbor will bump into me tomorrow morning and that names will be exchanged, at the very least. He strikes me as the sort of guy who enjoys the chase (hence my darting--I do feel cautious), so my behavior, though silly, isn't all bad.

Anyway, here's to a slimmer, more toned me. That I may get a date out of this new fitness regime before the results have taken hold is encouraging!

Catty

I have been getting out. Perhaps not as much as you city girls, but I've been doing my best to get out and about these last couple weeks. (I didn't mean to let so much time lapse since my last post!) In fact, I've actually flirted my way through a couple of gifted drinks and a dessert! (Yes, no big deal, but with my great height and shy nature, I haven't exactly been inviting men to lavish me with treats.) So that's the latest--nothing huge.

Today, however, I ran into TOTGA's girlfriend! (Or ex-girlfriend? I don't know.) She didn't recognize me, I don't think, and I barely recognized her. When I realized who she was I, like a woman obsessed, actually turned around and watched her leave the store! The thing is, she was so skinny. She was slim before, but here she was, with her knobby elbows jutting from her spindly arms! It only made her wattle* that much more prominent! I confess, I gloated.

About 15 minutes into the gloat I realized that she may have some sort of serious, physical ailment and immediately felt badly and reeled in the gloat.

But still: she was in a store at noon on Father's day with a friend and her friend's child. She wasn't with TOTGA. Whereas I never met TOTGA's daughter, this woman wormed her way in immediately. It would stand to reason that a year-plus hence, she would be enjoying something Father's Day-ish with the whole fam.

Oh, none of this matters. It's not like TOTGA and I are going to meet again and have a good laugh over everything and fall into each other's arms while the violins swell ...

In other news, a friend of mine is hem-hawing over a guy who drives me nuts. She isn't sure she's attracted to him, she says, but he's sooo nice and attentive and all those things we ladies want. Well, I met him and I'm not sure why my friend is hemming and hawing: the guy isn't stable. I can't exactly say what the issue is, but something is seriously off. Since meeting him, I've gently suggested ways she could give him the kiss-off. And, finally, Friday night, after a couple of cocktails, I said something absolutely blunt--which I don't remember now, but which made another girlfriend laugh in agreement. Yikes. I just hope I haven't offended.

Men are so rare here in the NV--a girl kinda hates to strike a potential from the list. (Even if its someone else's list.)

Onward.

*This comment pretty much solidifies my having a similar appearance when I am this woman's age.

The Art of Seduction

Well, this girl hasn't gotten out--yet. In fact, I ditched the girlfriends who were out at a locals night thing tonight. Wouldn't you know it, one of them texted me to say the hot men were out in droves. Here in N***? I don't believe it. And yet I feel the sting of jealousy ... Well, I made my bed and now I shall lie in it.

I've been reading a wacky book lately--I almost hate to admit it. But I am safely anonymous to most of you, so what the heck. I've been reading The Art of Seduction. Listen up: this book will make your skin crawl. (And if not, you're probably a calculating soul already.) And yet ... it's rather useful.

Now, do I want to hone in on a target and reel him in? No. Well, yes. Sort of. Do I want to be evil and manipulative about it? Definitely not. However, this book reminds me about human nature and gives valuable pointers on creating interest. If only the author didn't use words like "victim" and "alluring" so damn much.

You know, it occurs to me that seduction happens when it should. For example: there's a contractor I work with, and I know there is mutual attraction between us. (That he's a good three inches shorter than me is a troubling detail that somehow doesn't get in the way of attraction.) So far there's just been friendly/professional banter (and at least one interesting faux pas), but today I, knowing he likes beer, recommended a nearby restaurant that has an excellent selection of Belgian brews. Now, if he's brave enough--if my heels don't scare him off--he'll pick up on that suggestion and invite me out for a drink sometime soon. I wasn't calculating when I made my recommendation, but it occurred to me later that I was following the principles in that seduction book. Well, not event that, I was flirting--slyly, simply.

(Yes, I am in my 30s. Yes, I have had a fair amount of dates, lovers, boyfriends, etc. And, yes, I am shy. Screw it.)

Anyway, it remains: I need to get out. Hold me to it, 'k?

First Rule: Get Out

I haven't created my man circle yet, which is probably why the man of my dreams hasn't walked into my life. Heh.

However, a guy did buy me a drink last week. He was short and quite a bit younger than me, but he was friendly and cute and I figured I'd practice flirting, which paid off since he slyly paid for my $14 glass of wine. (I'd put out my $20 and the bartender just made smaller change out of it for me, which I didn't realize until I got up to meet friends for dinner. Sneaky.)

As always, this holiday weekend caught me by surprise. I never seem to plan anything for Memorial Day weekend, and so, as in years past, I find myself fending for myself and catching excitement where I can. Yesterday turned out well, and it's still an early Sunday here on the West Coast--who knows?

My good friend Emily and I took a long walk along the N*** (again not spelling it out so avid, local googlers won't find me) River and then we lunched under an umbrella on a deck at our favorite eatery. Topics of conversation ranged all over the place but, of course, mostly had to do with men past, present and future. It's a fun topic to hash out, you know. (Yes, you do know.)

Emily is 41, once married and then engaged and all ready to walk the aisle (on Martha's Vineyard, no less) when two days before the wedding, her man called it off. Three years later, she's left her executive position, moved to N***, and is wondering what the heck to do with her life. She rents a small apartment on an amazing country estate. The owners are currently summering in France (ah, the life!), so we decided to take the conversation to the poolside lawn.

Just so you know, cheese, grapes, bread, strawberries and French rosé pair very nicely with conversation. We made plans for summer parties and just plain getting out. "Because we're not going to meet any men here," Emily said, gesturing towards the wooded hillsides. Yes, that's the thing: one may spend a wonderful afternoon sunning herself at a secluded, N*** location, but interesting men aren't going to emerge from the forest or vineyard.

A girl has to get out.

The Man Circle

I went out last night--a rare occurrence. Well, actually no--not rare. But in this case there was a whole, big group of us, men and women, and we were all celebrating someone's birthday and a friend of mine was driving me. And so I kicked up my heels more than usual.

We talked about men--three or four of us single girls and a married friend. The married friend asked if we'd created our "man circle," which she described as drawing a circle on a piece of paper and writing all the attributes and qualities you wanted in a man. One then affixes this paper to a prominent location, "like your refrigerator," she said, "although you can put it on the side so not just anyone will see it." She said she met her husband days after creating her man circle.

I can actually see the benefit of narrowing what you're looking for in a tangible way because then one isn't distracted by the cutie who doesn't have a job or who's hung up on his ex or whatever. I suppose I shall give it a go.

But I suspect my problem (at the moment) isn't identifying attributes and qualities but meeting men period. I need to work on that, first of all. Jeez. First and foremost: I need to stop wearing heels on social occasions. They put me in the stratosphere, and while that used to be a strategy to keep the boys at bay, I now see the value in approachability.

OKCupid is killing me. Still writing that one guy, but neither of us seem too hot to meet each other. I'm ready to take down the profile.

Mission: Opposite

Well, I did it: I did "The Opposite Thing." And it turned out well.

I emailed Bill and told him I missed him. Yes, pretty much just like that.

He wrote back, saying it was good to hear and so sweet. He was gutted. He wanted to hear more. He asked me how I was.

I hemmed and hawed and decided to keep things simple. So I said I really appreciated how we had so much in common. (Not very sexy, I know--but wait, this is a good thing!) Then I gave a quick, airy-fairy rundown on the latest. I asked him how he was.

(Now remember, we had exchanged several emails on Sunday before I even let "I miss you" out of the bag.)

He let me know how he was with work, hobbies and ... love life! Yes, he is dating someone he called "wonderful." And of course I felt a wee bit numb at his revelation--numb but not surprised. And I was glad (so glad) that I kept my Declaration of Missing simple. Because really, it is simple. I miss his friendship, at the very bottom of it. He wouldn't have wanted to hear that.

(And did I really want to try again with him? No. I know it now. I feel nostalgic, but it's nostalgia for the friendship, not the romance.)

Oh, and he said he would tell me about his someone wonderful over drinks.

Um, no. I'm not going there. With his rapid-fire responses to my emails and his not telling me about this for (I suspect) months, I don't exactly think he's ready for plain, ol' friendship. Plus, if I were her, I wouldn't want my guy hanging out with the woman who broke his heart. (Plus-plus, the NV is so, so small. And their town has a population of 5,000 or so. No way. Bad mojo for future men I may want to meet in said teeny town.)

So I just wrote back and said how great it all was and that Ms. Wonderful must truly be wonderful because he had good taste. I didn't even touch on the subject of drinks.

I'm glad I stepped out and did the Opposite because it gave me the reality check--and answers--I needed. I gotta keep rolling on this Opposite track!

News:

1. There's someone sexy at work--good for a long-distance, fun crush.

2. I'm writing a guy on OKCupid. I have no expectations, which makes this zero pressure. (If it weren't for this correspondence, I'd quit the site. Online dating makes me break out in hives.)

Do the Opposite

Yesterday I thought I should try something new: doing the opposite of what I would normally do (especially in social situations), a la George Costanza. I haven't actually put it into practice yet, but I'm on the verge.

What does this exactly mean? It means I'll speak up when I'd normally remain silent. It means I'll smile and maintain eye contact for a second longer than I usually would. It means I'll go to bars at nice restaurants by myself, because let's face it: it's much harder for a nice, sober guy to approach you when you're out with your girl friends.

Bill and TOTGA are perfect examples of the good things that can happen when I break out of my usual MO. With Bill, I walked up to him and said, "You're Bill, aren't you?" He stuck by me the whole night. With TOTGA I kept looking at him across the room all night long and then finally wandered over to him (such a brazen move! I was buzzed on sparkling wine) and said hello. I know, it doesn't sound difficult, but if you're on the shy side and if the man in question is particularly swoon-worthy (as these guys were), small moves seem gigantic.

Right now the "Opposite Move" I'm thinking about doing is telling Bill that I miss him. (Previously contemplated here.) It goes completely against my nature. I worry that it'll be unfair: he had a terrible time getting over me. Obviously, I shouldn't tell him that I miss him unless I'm willing to follow up with something--such as the possibility of getting back together. I'm open to that, actually. But what if the attempt fails? Let's say he responds positively. What if we give it a go and I realize that I was right the first time around. And of course there's the possibility that he won't respond positively ...

This is silly. Maybe it's worth it to just tell him that, for what it's worth, I have missed him. He was my best friend, and I know I (overwhelmed with sadness over TOTGA) focused on all of Bill's faults while ignoring the fact that I am flawed, too. He treated me well. We had a lot of common interests and a similar upbringing. I liked him (but was too shattered over TOTGA to fall in love). Worth revisiting?

OK Cupid, Whatcha' Got?

Ladies and gentlemen, we can blame (thank?) Loverville. I am in the process of joining OKCupid. I must say, for a completely free site, it seems very well designed and easy to use. And maybe they're just trying to lure me in, but the guys listed look interesting. (Must be fake profiles, right?)

Anyway, let the adventures ensue. I'm definitely not getting anywhere by following my set routines here at home--even if those routines involve hanging out (occasionally) at the NV hotspots. (Yesterday at brunch this 60-something man, drunk on mimosas I suppose, asked me if I was with someone. The answer was, of course, yes--I didn't want the guy bothering me! This is what one deals with here. Old, drunk, horny men. Wonderful.)

I feel entirely unconfident about this latest online dating attempt, but what's a girl to do? Last weekend I visited a friend in SF on what happened to be a gorgeous, sunny day. Everyone was out picnicking with their friends and family. I don't know if it was a ticking of the biological clock or if it was just loneliness, but I wanted that: the friends, the chubby children, the barbecue. I think my girlfriends felt it, too: the slight sadness of witnessing strangers' happiness. (But on the flip side, we have no diapers to change and no husbands to pick up after, though I know there is joy in caring for someone else.)

New Job, New Dating Pool?

So sorry to vanish like that--I got wrapped up in the newness of the new job. (Yes, I am finally in the NV* industry! And though work is work, it's still awfully nice to drive up to a beautiful winery each morning.) So what happened with Crush? Before leaving my old job I asked around a bit and discovered that he probably has a live-in girlfriend. That took the wind out of my sails just a bit, because while having a girlfriend isn't the same as having a wife, I was not so taken with Crush that I felt compelled to swoop in and make some grand overture. But I did tell a coworker that if he ever mentioned interest in me to give him my phone number.

I'm the new kid on the block at the winery, which is just like being the new kid at school (remember?). Or maybe it's better because there aren't cliques to break into and bullying to watch out for--at least in the adult world these things are usually much more subtle than in elementary/high school. The single men are curious, but again, it's hard for me to tell which are single because of the absence of wedding rings. (That whole thing about not wanting to lose a finger--which is valid in this business.) I don't really want to date where I work, but the Valley is so small and the pickings are so slim ... I think I will have to rethink that rule.

I heard something funny last week--something I hadn't heard in my eight years of living here: "The Valley is BYOB. 'Bring Your Own Boyfriend.'" Oh cruel truth! (Although I have dated a lot here, I must say. Rather indiscriminately at first, but I was merely a late bloomer, trying to figure out what I wanted.)

So what I need to do is step it up, socially speaking. I need to get out more, smile more, show more interest and friendliness. I, being tall and a watchful sort, am not the most approachable chica on the block. I also need to step up the exercise program--ahem.

The things we do to not be solo for ever and ever.

*NV is shorthand for, you know, the name of this valley. I don't want to spell it out since I'll then pop up in Google Alerts and risk exposure. Scary stuff.

Cruel cupid!

Dear blogging world, dear confidants, dear lurkers (you, especially): What would you do?

Remember Crush, that brief flash of light in my dark, practical life? Well, I'd all but forgotten about him. In fact, yesterday I was considering writing a post about how I just can't do crushes like I could in my teen years. They just don't have staying power these days! And then today he stopped by my office. (dun dun DUN!)

Let me backtrack: though Crush and I have spoken on the phone and though we have seen each other in passing, we actually have never met face to face. Why? It seems like we're always conducting business with other people when we see each other. Plus, now that I think about it, we really haven't seen each other since we've been talking on the phone. (Sadly, these phone chats have been business related, though I have been very friendly on these calls.) Yesterday I called him and left a message letting him know I had one last issue to discuss with him--and I let him know that Friday is my last day at work. I thought it was unusual that he didn't return my call ...

And what happens but I return from a very late lunch and the executive assistant says, all wide-eyed and giggly when I walk in the door, "Crush was here!" It look me a full minute to realize she wasn't talking about last summer's intern.

Apparently the EA said, "Oooh! Crush!" when he introduced himself and he said, "You've heard my name?" And EA, a motherly sort, said she'd just heard me mention his name in reference to our projects. Nice. Real smooth.

Apparently Crush lingered, as if hoping I'd return. Apparently he was wearing a great cologne.

So I called him back straight away to discuss this project issue that needed discussing. But I didn't have my wits about me; didn't suggest we meet so I could show him what I meant. I talked too fast and didn't realize his monosyllabic responses were likely from nervousness until later.

Dammit.

How is it that someone in her 30s could be so clueless? I, of course, have to call him back tomorrow and think up some lame-ass excuse to do so. You would call him, wouldn't you? And maybe some of the ballsier among you would ask him out. I might do that, depending. (I have just had a beer, so feel courageous.)

I could be reading this all wrong. My coworkers don't think he's married, but peoplefinders.com has someone on his associated people list that is suspicious--either a sister or wife. I don't have the time to ask around about him, though. I have Thursday and Friday.

So given the confusion about him marital status, would you call him tomorrow with some flimsy question? Would you ask him out? (My married friends would, but they are safely married, living vicariously through my single foolishness.) Do you think I am reading too much into the sudden visit to the office, the lingering, the cologne?

Gah, you know? If only I had been at the office when he came by!

Calm Before the Storm?

I feel like I haven't been holding up my end of the blogging bargain because, my sweets, I have nothing going on romantically ... and I am fine with it. I have too much going on otherwise! Too much excitement over the new job, too many plans for an updated wardrobe, too many starry-eyed dreams for the future ...

But I have started doing something that I haven't done in ages: I've been noticing men. That is, I scope out rooms and I look around to see if I I, in turn, have been spotted. Vain? Yes. But it's also part of the whole dating ritual. Catch an eye and you never know ... Also, I am taking mental notes on what men I find attractive seem to be drawn to.

And just who do I find attractive? Dammit, the sensitive, artistic types. It's true. Most of my guys fall into this category. Guy (my last boyfriend) was more sensitive than most women I know--ugh! So now I want to swing the other way (though not completely). I still like that strong, silent type--but I'd like a little pinch of outgoingness, too.

Whatever. Show me a handsome man at the back of the room and I'll show you one very interested woman. (TOTGA had this quality in spades, and no matter how much I tell myself that he was a lurker, I know it isn't true. He was an observer, and I love that, damn him.)

I promise I'll scare up a good story soon, but for now it's a lot of quality time with the girlfriends--dining out at fabulous NV restaurants. It's a tough life, but I'm happy to live it.

Out With the Old, In With the New

Crush schmush. I've been too busy to give matters of the heart much thought.

See, I landed a dream job. Yes, please--pat me on the back because in these economic times (and in this small valley) finding a good job is as legendary as a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I am still pinching myself! I have two weeks left at my old job and then it's on to bigger and better things--and with new employment comes new people. New man people! Though I would rather not date someone at work, the network is greatly expanded with a new job. You know.

In other news, Bill helped me out the other day. I was working on a photo shoot and needed a hand model at the last minute. Bill is looking good--all trim and angular. While we were talking he hinted at taking someone out for dinner, under the auspices of complaining about meal prices here in the NV--but really, I know he wanted me to ask, "Are you seeing someone then?" I didn't ask.

I miss him some and I suppose if I didn't have this new job looming gloriously in the near future I might have done something to worm my way back in. I'm glad I haven't, though, because I wouldn't want to risk hurting him twice, and though I care for him greatly I don't know that I love him the way I should.

The women I was with, though, later told me he was soooo cute and why did I ever leave him? It's true, Bill is conventionally hot (especially now that he's a lean, mean bachelor machine) but ... hotness only gets you so far, I guess.

Anyway, it's on to bigger and better for me.

Springtime crush

It feels like early summer (instead of barely spring) here in California. The birds are twittering, leaves are leafing, and I ... well I have a crush. I know--how spring-like!

Crush is a contract worker at my place of work. He's been around for a couple of years, and I always thought he was interesting to look at (I've only ever seen him from a distance--though sometimes a small distance, it's true). Well dammit, Ruby, why don't you talk to him? Yes, I am scarily good at reading your minds.

I have talked to him--on the phone. And the distressing thing is, I don't think he has put my voice and face together. Because when I see him (from a distance, short or long) I know he notices me. Yeah, I know--you're clicking your tongues and asking me why I haven't marched my perky self up to him and introduced myself.

Because ... I just recognized the crush two days ago and haven't seen him in the interim. Is that good enough for you?

Anyway, he's probably married--he's confident and authoritative and those types always seem to have taken their vows.

But a crush is sure fun. ;)

Purpose

Yesterday my hairstylist told me that she is thinking about getting a divorce. In fact, she had all but decided to file when her child came down with pneumonia.

"I just want to be alone," she said as she snipped away at my hair. "It's so much easier to be single."

"Yeah," I agreed, "but who wants to be 70 and alone?"

"I do," she said.

I get that. But as a fellow introvert, I wanted to tell her that her viewpoint might change. That there's something about having the support of a significant other ... And that's what I think I am missing right now, hence the nostalgia for Bill. I miss having someone solidly in my corner and soon enough I'll miss the sex, too, and will be off on the hunt for a new man. (Oh cruel biology! Because it would be easier to be single, it would.)

There's something about having someone in your life that gives life a sharper sense of purpose.

Match.com might be getting some more of my hard-earned dollars soon, dammit.

Bill? Is that you?

I've been in contact with Bill lately. Yes, that's right, Bill--the ex. (The ex before Guy. The one who I escaped the heartbreak of TOTGA for.) I've been in contact with him mostly because of work things (he's managing some projects for us) but also because of a computer in my possession that belongs to him.

It's snuck up on me, but I am sure you are a step ahead of me and know what I am about to type here: I miss him.

I'm suspicious of this, of course. Why didn't I miss him all summer? I distinctly remember feeling relieved when we broke up ... But sad, too. We were such good friends.

I don't plan to do anything about this. I need to sit with this feeling and see what it's all about. But I wonder if the situation with Guy has just opened my eyes to how compatible Bill and I really were and how good a thing that was. I wonder if, having finally gotten over TOTGA, I see Bill for who he is, all the good along with all those faults.

Usually I think the instinct to break up is the right thing and that it's better to not go back on it. I'm curious, though: Have ever gotten back together with an ex with positive results? Or do you know anyone who has?

An Argument for Taking It Slow

I like Carolyn Hax. She's very practical and straight-up about things in a way that those of us muddling about in our social lives can never quite seem to manage.

I like her so much, I bought her book. Yeah, it's old-fashioned, written in 2001 (note facetiousness) but it's packed full of good stuff. Some of it doesn't apply to me (I don't "get fat" when I'm single; just the opposite), but the stuff that does is especially refreshing to read.

For instance, there's this gem in chapter 22: "Getting all excited when the other person wants to commit yesterday, quickly, now."

You've known you all your life, so you, naturally, have a nuanced opinion of what you have to offer. Therefore, you like to believe--we all do--that anyone who has a sudden, intense interest in you must somehow have picked up all these nuances. But what can someone possibly know about you after a couple of weeks, a couple of months even? That you're nice to look at, nice to talk to and you don't give off a smell. Don't mistake promising for profound.

Does that strike a chord with you as it did me? Does it make you think, "Ah, Mr. Right-I-Hope hasn't fallen in love with me at two weeks (one month, two months, etc). Perhaps I can calm down about it!" Yes, that's right. Ms Hax goes on to say (and I believe she is right) that there are several different ways the above scenario can play out: the romance quickly fizzles or:

People who quickly attach themselves to you often don't care to learn your nuances, ever. They want someone in the significant other role to make them feel normal/special/powerful, and they have a preconceived notion of how you should play this role, and they'll resort to all manner of controlling behavior to keep that notion intact.

I've experienced this, have you? This jumped out at me (especially) because of Guy, who wanted to be exclusive at 2 weeks. I've learned my lesson: beware the quick sell! So let's keep our heads (and hearts) about us and take our time. It can't hurt.

(I also like Ms. Hax because she encourages us single people to be ourselves while dating and to not worry so much about what is "supposed" to be done or said over whatever time frame. Because the goal, of course, is to find someone who loves us--me, you--as we really are, not as we might behave under a heavy onslaught of dating rules.)

Go forth. Be. Conquer.

Impending Visit from Guy

Guy will be here in a bit to pick up items. It'll be awkward. Did I tell you that he bought a very expensive bottle of wine this week and wanted us to have a postmortem today along with the vino? I refused. He was always inappropriately extravagant with his gifts (he makes only a touch more than I do and has financial problems) and this smacked of manipulation, though I don't think he was conscious of that.

He very much wants us to be friends, and while that's in the realm of possibility I've had to patiently explain that friendship can't happen right away. He needs to move on, and so do I. Right now, I think he's a bit obsessed.

Future dating plans? None. I'm in the midst of a job change (you know how stressful that is) and really just want to lay low for awhile. Ideally, I'll meet a man in real life right here in this valley. Wouldn't that be wild?

***
Update: Guy just left. He was so sweet and all of the things that made me like him in the first place shone through. I feel nauseated and wonder if I've made the wrong decision. This is an understandable emotional response, I suppose. My brain knows I just need to get a grip and step back, and if I need to reassess, then I should do that in a few months.

Single in the Valley--Again!

I need to be honest: TOTGA is a red herring and definitely not the real issue with Guy and me. TOTGA may have been handsome and brooding but he's not in the picture and therefore is not a real contender for my affections. (I feel very Jane Austen writing the word "affections.")

Last night I broke up with Guy because the truth is, I couldn't love him--no matter what the previous post stated. (Sometimes I'm full of it--a terribly unreliable narrator, the kind of narrator I happen to like the best.) He also had some issues, some qualities that I couldn't deal with.

He was needy. It's interesting to me that there are all of these advice books and dating sites geared toward women and all the things we do wrong in relationships. You know what? Guys can do them too: they can lay all their cards on the table too soon, call too much, display shocking insecurity. On one hand, it's a relief to know that we women don't have the crazy market cornered and on the other hand it's a big pain to date one of these guys. Yes, he called me (often) twice a night. Yes, he actually said that he was jealous of my girlfriends--who I hardly see! Yes, he wanted more of my time.

He had financial issues. I may have been nine years younger than Guy, but I had more of my shit together than he. I am not wealthy and sometimes my credit card runs a balance, but I try to live within my means and save, and I aspire to a more comfortable financial situation.

The circumstances of his divorce were a red flag. Yeah, divorce is difficult--always--and I don't pretend to know the full details. But through a carefully asked question last week I discovered that he just sort of stopped going home. No affair, no big declaration (until papers were finally signed, of course)--just a wasting away. I find it distasteful and the sort of thing that could repeat.

He had no social network. Guy had two friends--two. One nearby; one in another country. Don't get me wrong, Guy is a sweet person but somehow, through shyness or whathaveyou, he just hasn't formed more friendships. (Interestingly, my last three relationships have been with men who haven't had very many friends. Hmmm!)

He was awkward in social situations. He glommed onto me, and I felt suffocated. Enough said.

It seems like there was more, but I don't remember what it was at the moment.

So what next? I'm not going to hop back onto Match right away. I feel like I need to push the reset button and take a good look at what I'm attracted to. Why have I been dating the same guy? Older but full of issues? Next time around I would like to try someone who's outgoing--a real sparkler. And next time I'll take my time before launching into a relationship.

Shape-Shifter

"You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did.
You just had to wait.
Eventually the feeling went away because others came along.
Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny,
and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind."
--Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout

Yes, this is about The One That Got Away (TOTGA) but also about the nature of love and from whence it springs--the shape and size of it. Sort of a "How to Spot Love at Thirty Paces."

(Not that I have a clue.)

God, a wonderful Valentine's day and I spend the last part of it (mid-romantic concert) thinking about dark, brooding TOTGA. Yes, he's the one that got away and good riddance. But ... I can't get him out of my mind, piece of tinsel or not. Others have not replaced him yet.

How does one know that she's in love? Evan Marc Katz brilliantly espouses that it's not how you feel but how he treats you. (I am probably misstating the facts because if this is the case, I have known love more than a half dozen times--an embarrassment of riches, for sure.) Guy treats me amazingly well, but I am not in love. I am fond of him, but that's not enough for me. I want to respect him and be proud of him. I want to walk into a room on his arm and be thrilled to be there, on his arm.

Too much to ask? A mark of a spoiled thirty-something who hasn't made the most of her fading charms?

Blech. So much for the size and shape of love. I suspect this Love thing is a shape-shifter and a glorious, different thing for each of us. And I suspect that Love doesn't choose you--you have to choose Love. (Yes, I fear it's as airy-fairy as that, the horror!) I suspect that if I wanted to, I could love Guy.

I might manage it yet. But how to squeeze out TOTGA?

Scratch That

Ahem.

What would you do if your very recent ex said: You're right. I've been moving too quickly. Three months is no time at all. I'm sorry. Can we make this work?

If you cared for him at all you might open up your arms and hold onto him tight and let a few gigantic tears make a mess of your face. Well, this is what I did, for better or worse.

And at the moment, I feel good about it--if a little sheepish. The breakup was real, trust me. And I would have been okay with it. But I am glad that we're together again.

The passive aggression is an interesting note, which I will be keeping an eye out for. (More on this later.) Luckily for us, I don't fly off the handle and am very calm and measured when faced with ridiculousness. We might turn out to be a good match yet!

The End of Amore

Things have been changing rapidly these last few days.

Over the last week or so I have realized that Guy is far more needy (and passive aggressive!) than I ever realized. The core problem was that he wanted to see me more than just weekends. (We did see each other several times a week until recently, when he offered--he offered!--to give me more space during the week.) I wanted to see him on weekends--my most cherished days of the week--because after long days at work, I couldn't bear being around someone who, well, wanted me body and soul. Too much pressure!

This sounds cruel. It is cruel. I explained to Guy that I wasn't as far along in the feelings department as he was and couldn't we slow down a bit? There were many discussions, some awful passive aggression and finally, tonight, he said that he just couldn't do it: people in a relationship need to be together. He said it wasn't right that he had to make all of the sacrifices. And et cetera.

He broke up with me.

It's true that I wasn't in love, but I liked him and would have happily stayed with him (until the neediness and PA became so evident) for quite awhile.

Tomorrow he's coming to pick up his stuff. Blech.

Let There Be Hope!

Not too long ago, I couldn't recognize a booty call when it was looking me straight in the eye.

Yes, I was An Innocent. Truly. Let me digress: so many of us are innocent, no matter how many men we've slept with, hearts we've broken, years we've spent in a relationship. This is why (one reason out of many) the Subject of Love fascinates: we never get it right (not quite) and there are a hundred (thousand, million) variations on the theme. Is Love biological or spiritual? Is it somehow both? And does it matter? Is your Love better or truer than mine? (a question someone in their darkest moments might ask) How do I find it, keep it, nourish it? What happens when I fall out of it?

Well, anyway, there are so many things to say, ask and wonder. As long as I have the time to write, I don't think this blog will die.

But back to Innocence: I've always been the sort to keep my cards close to the chest. I've played it cool, partly out of nervousness (no one would guess) and partly out of not being interested in 99% of the guys I met. And then I fell for ... Reggie (not his name). This was six years ago, and though he was tall and so very cute, I have no idea why I stayed with him for seven long months. (In fact, I was just thinking about this today!) We had nothing in common except a sense of humor. This was 2004, during the election, and Reggie was a dyed-in-the-wool Bush-lover (we're talking George, of course) and I was the polar opposite. (I've wanted to write something about it: "Love in the Time of Bush.") I've never been so angry, argumentative and awful. (Of course, it didn't help that my father died unexpectedly one week after the election. Poor Reggie.) Anyway, months after we broke up, Reggie would come around to "hang out" and I never realized that a booty call by any other name is still a booty call. What an idiot.

I've gained wisdom these last brief years, thanks in part to Evan Marc Katz. I still don't wear my heart on my sleeve and I still make mistakes (see TOTGA), but I can spot a booty call at 10 paces. And I don't have fairytale illusions about love. Love is a part of life (let's hope) and life is imperfect. It follows that Love will be, too. And I'm OK with that.

Begin Paragraphs with "And"

And so we continue on, Guy and I. This is good, right?

(Yes. Yes, it is.)

And what to say except that I feel lucky to have met someone so generous and kind and sexy. I feel very grounded about Us. I haven't put Guy on a pedestal (as with poor TOTGA) but I appreciate him and care for him.

And, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I wonder if this is love ... But I don't wonder it too much because at three months, does one need to know? It isn't like I have a biological clock clanging away. (Luckly, it's just the faintest ticking--easily ignored.)

And so what to do but enjoy and live in the moment? Love will come, if it's not already here.

DDoubt

(Yes, with double DDs)

I had a significant freakout last week.

A freakout to the extent that I clammed up, shut down, Did Not Communicate. So juvenile!

And Guy #1 behaved like an adult despite my behavior. He backed off and let me have my space and demonstrated heaps of dignity doing it. Wow.

I know, I'm leaving out the juicy details. Let's just say that we went to a wedding together and though I can't be certain, I think that was the cause of my panic. (Hi. Am I a commitmentphobe?) The wedding followed a romantic stay at a nearby hotel--right at our two-month anniversary. (And Guy is the sensitive, sweet, in-love type who marks anniversaries--so sweet!) I think it was just too much.

Much to my relief, five days apart set me to rights again. All last week I was sure we were headed for a breakup. I was sure I couldn't do this, that he wasn't the guy for me. And then Friday I wanted him.

Fickle and disgusting, sure, but I am relieved. I thought I'd have to look for a new therapist and start confessing my sins against men on a comfy couch again. (Not that that would be the worst thing in the world.)

Guy is just lovely. Where did those sharp, intense doubts come from? And will they come again? I sure hope not.