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Bye-Bye Bad Boys Hellooooo Gentlemen!

tatooeditIf you are a close, personal friend of mine, you’ll know that stories like the one I’m about to tell are all too common when it comes to my dating escapades.

After reading a Huffington Post article written from a male perspective about the advantages of asking a woman on a ‘date’, instead of the vague, ‘let’s go for coffee’, I knew I had to share my latest man-tale with you.

If you are not a close personal friend of mine, trust me when I tell you never to take a good guy for granted, especially as you get older.

Like good women, good men become tired of dealing with games and players and craziness.

As 2013 rolled into 2014, I was somewhere downtown grooving my new little silver studded flats into some grimy linoleum. Thanks to a designated driver, a favourite band, my best man-pal, lots of wine, and a little help from my pal Pablo, the evening was fun, relaxing and happy.

When I settle in at a bar, I have bat-like radar when it comes to bad boys. ‘With such keen radar I have been introduced to pilots, rugby players, writers and all sorts of lovely men. Before I’d even taken off my coat or ordered my first drink, a little hottie with a tattooed forearm caught my eye.

“Bad news,” is not what my inner voice said. Nope. Not even after all of these years of experience. What my inner voice jubilantly rattled off like a school girl’s song was, “Ding dong, bring it on!”

As luck would have it ladies, Mr.Badass Tattoo Boy swung me around the dance floor a few times, told me a little bit about himself, and took my number. Nice…

Long story short, not only have I been around the block a few times, I helped design the neighbourhood. After a few text messages, sexy tattoo man basically revealed himself as a classic male-gold-digger;

It’s me, your new dance partner – I hope you got home safely. Can’t wait to see you again xo……I have a really great job, but was just laid off. I may have to look out west for work, unless I have something to stick around here for…. You seem like such a nice woman….I had to move out of my apartment and have nowhere to live…..

Ok, first of all, homelessness is not sexy. It’s sad, and if you think this sugar-momma is going to tuck your boots under her bed while you sit on your cute, tight, buns all day while she’s at work, you’re wrong. Although I do keep my home rather warm, perhaps I could get him to do a little housework sans shirt….just a thought. It is cold outside after all.

For gentlemen confused by my abrupt turn to glaciel-ice-bitch, please refer to my previous post for amorous menfolk.

I figured the guy was a player of the worst kind, and cut him loose. He ranks right up there with the guy who asked me to pay for dinner, and then a bit of a cash advance, “just until payday”. Seriously. What the hell?!

Le sigh.

However….all was not lost. Just the day before I had been very gallantly escorted to my vehicle and asked to dinner. When I said, “Sure, I’ll go for a drink with you,” he said, “No. Not a drink. I want to take you out for dinner.”

Now gentlemen, that’s how you ask a lady out. On a date. You do not ask, Wanna do something? Wanna hang out? Wanna go for coffee? Wanna….ah…let me think potential man-cake…no. No I don’t ‘wanna’ anything. I would however, be delighted to be picked up at 7:30 after having been asked to accompany you to dinner at the restaurant of your choosing.

Being vague with, ‘do you wanna’s’, is nothing more than a layer of emotional armor that women of a certain age really just aren’t willing to wonder about. We know what we want and what we don’t. We don’t want indecisive men who are lukewarm about our luscious charms.

Another man who can’t commit? How very refreshing (sarcasm font). Another man who has no direction, but a good eye for a hard-working woman? No thank you sir. A date? Sure, why not? See you at 7:30.

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Love is Another Country

“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.” ~Anna Louise Strong~
“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.”
~Anna Louise Strong~

Ever one to be in line with the mindless consumer push, I decided to write a post about love. After all, it was just on December 24th that I spotted the first signs of Valentine’s Day tidbits taking over the jingle-bell-and-kiss-me-under-the mistletoe section of a local shop.

Don’t be disheartened my wee little sprites. This isn’t a syrupy sweet Hallmarkish promotion of red fish-net stockings and silicone lubricant. Not that I’m into that kind of stuff anyway…..ah hem

It’s about a topic I believe is close to the sentimental chamber of our very human spirits. It’s about letting yourself give and receive love without letting the pressures of  what-we-should-be-doing ruin it all.

As is tradition in my home, I fall easily into my nightgown in front of a slew of chick flicks when I have the place to myself. Usually I have a cup of tea or a spicy hot chocolate. Wine, I have learned only leads to more tears and possibly drunk dialing.

One of my favourite shows is New In Town. Far from a blockbuster, but so wonderful, and at the same time anti-feminist too. It just tears the hard-ass-independent-woman in me to bits to admit that I love it.

Perhaps it’s because I see myself falling for the ever-able-to-save-the-day-rough-around-the-edges Ted Mitchell. You know, the classic strong and silent type. It doesn’t hurt that Harry Connick Jr plays the character of Ted. Meow!

During a classic mother-daughter talk, my mumster and I waxed nostalgic about the bad boys we loved and (thankfully, in retrospect) lost.

As hard as it is to admit, sometimes it takes a few bad boys, heartbreaks and major losses to help us realize that it’s the gentlemen, the nice guys, the ones who open the door for you when your hands are full, who always seem to have put thought into a conversation, date, or drink at the end of the day, who are the ones who have always really had our hearts despite our steamy trysts with the tall, dark and handsome ones.

These are the guys and gals who really make our hearts pitter-patter. For a long, long time. These are the fellas worth the red fish net stockings and chilled bottles of bubbly, or perhaps the gals worthy of some well planned manscaping.

Whether you’re a man or a woman, whether you’re the educated one, or the blue collar one, whether you’re too old for him and he’s too young for you, or he/she doesn’t come with the vamp/hunk stamp of approval of your pals, they’re too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, have a funny  accent, maybe, just maybe, none of that stuff matters.

In our culture, love, indeed is another country.

Any kind of deep love, whether platonic or romantic is a deep reach down into our day-to-day, nine to five bag of consumer culture. We constantly measure the losses and gains, benefits and drawbacks, pros and cons of ‘what if’.

We’ve all had our hearts broken and taken risks. We all love the solitude of our own home. We also all yearn for that special someone who is there when we get home to help us celebrate, or hold us when we need some encouragement.

In order to know great love,  you must take a grand leap of faith to find out whether you’re being led down a path with no breadcrumb trail, into a dark, tangled, wilderness, or to a brilliant  life you only dared dream of.

Love is only between two people, not his sister, the hairdresser, your brother-in-law, the dental hygienist, your granny or Dr. Phil.

Love is a state of its own, declared the moment you enter into relationship. You are the sovereigns, the populace and the lawmakers. Love is indeed another country.

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What’s Up With That?!

HENRY O'HARA CLIVE Seaside Flirtation, calenda...
HENRY O’HARA CLIVE Seaside Flirtation, calendar illustration, c. 1925 (Photo credit: Fred Seibert)

Today was a long day darlings.

Having only realized my lack of ice-cold club soda upon arriving home, I had to substitute champagne.

Given the hooch-tragedy, I decided to go all out fabulously-girly and enjoy it while soaking neck-deep in a bubble bath.

Immediately after the bubbles hit my blood stream I  became relaxed and inspired by sublime genious. In the candlelit room, serenaded by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone, I wondered about;

1) How someone so ugly on the inside can be almost as ugly on the outside – Bashir Al  (now that’s downright ug-lee). Are we really wasting time playing this idiot’s game? Seriously. How can this breathing example of satan still be standing when innocent kids get shot on the street. Just the thought almost makes me want to switch from bubbly to bourbon.

2) Why does our conscience evolve to higher ethical and moral standards at a point in life where day-to-day stress and our need for physical connection are both at their height? Getting laid is far more work than it’s worth, and with a more discerning conscious, it’s like having a got-lucky-hangover the next day.  Call me.

3) I wonder if it would be ok to kick someone in the wiggly bits for routinely disrespecting my time?

4)  Do most women appreciate that they peak physically in their early 30’s as acutely as I did?

5) Why do we celebrate when things are going well for people? For example, we celebrate births, graduations and weddings. How about middle age spread where your friends would buy gift cards to clothing stores, showers for folks who are celebrating over a decade of being single (goodness knows I could certainly use some new tea towels and small appliances), or perhaps even celebrating your first complete calendar year taking anti-depressant medication?  That shit would rock!

6) Morning radio. We want a quick review of traffic, news and some music. I don’t want to hear some patronizing, politically, correct, melodramatic rant that goes on for half of my commute. Shut your trap and play some music already. Perhaps I need to call in tomorrow morning just to get this off my luscious chest.

7) Would it all be ok if one day we just decided to walk out on our life as we know it? What if one day you just didn’t go to work, pay your bills and wandered the planet dependent on the kindness of others? If my bubble-bath-champagne-fuelled opinion counts for anything, I think we’d all be considerably more happy. I’m sure some foot pervert would happily maintain my pedicures and you’d share your bourbon with me wouldn’t you darling?

8) How much talking does the weather-person have to freaking do? Just tell us the temperature, the type of precipitation, and if there’s a twister on the way you annoying-waste-of-time! Sheesh!

9) People who call to schedule appointments through the work day, and complain, ” But I work.” Yah? Really? I work too – do the math. We all work, see # 3, and appreciate we all like to be treated with the same respect.

10) How come my pizza guy always looks like a brow-beaten-on-the-edge-of-starvation character out of the Grapes of Wrath and not a porn star?

Yes, that covers the tiniest bit of what travelled through  my wee little girl brain tonight as I soaked my voluptuous, inebriated body in a deep, hot, bath.

I think I could be verging on genius. Of course, I think you are too darlings. Really, I do.

After having those not so charming questions loll around my pretty little head, I have decided to head straight for a protracted state of champagne-denial. Life is good my sweet little peaches, you just have to think it so.

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Older Women & Younger Men

Pulp Portait: I wonder if she goes to my church?
Pulp Portait: I wonder if she goes to my church? (Photo credit: Terry McCombs)

It’s taboo. It’s frowned upon, and more often than not over-romanticized. Younger women and older men go together like cashmere and lambskin leather. They just fit.

Younger men and older women on the other hand have a social fit a little more akin to vinyl pants clinging to sweaty thighs – not so comfortable.

But, my darlings, for the single woman, younger men have their place. I’m not talking a few years younger. No dears, that’s nothing. I’m talking a decade or more.

This weekend I did a little experiment. Something to push me out of my comfort zone, and away from the unrelenting pace of all-work-and-no-play. Yes, I succumbed to a much younger man’s invitation. I know, I know, what on earth was I possibly thinking? Stamina perhaps? A wild romp through the bed linens? Perhaps some nostalgia for the beautiful-taught young bodies that we all once had?

No, it was none of that really.

It was boredom. Sheer, I’ve-gotta-take-a-break-from-this-all-work-and-no-play year.

After having been romanced by lovely, cultured older men, I feet it is my humanitarian duty to ‘pay it forward’, and tutor the occasional enthusiastic young gentleman. There’s nothing sexier than learning something new from a lover, and most younger men don’t have much to offer in this department.

As a woman-of-a-certain-age, I finally understand why men have so long coveted younger women. Yes, it could be their hot bodies, but most likely, it’s the doe-eyed, breathless, the-world-is-my-oyster attitude. It’s charming to be around, and reminds us that the joyful essence of our youth has no expiration date.

What they do offer is a reminder that life is fun and fresh and new. They offer us a reminder about how far we’ve come, and how thankful we are not to have to do it all over again. A simple (pun intended) chat over a glass of wine can bring a smile, a little tweak to our self-image that serves as a reminder of how much fun we are.

What happens when you’ve lost your joy? Maybe your heart has been broken (again). Perhaps you’ve been managing your home life, and you’ve forgotten how to play? You may have cultivated a deep inner peace, a wonderful meditation/prayer practice, a balanced harmonious way of showing up in the world….but what is life without unbridled joy, deep belly laughs, and the occasional throwing it all to the wind and living, not just peacefully, but fully in the present moment?

Although my lovely little ‘French Enfant’ is not the love of my life, he reminded me that there is silliness, fun and humour out there still.

Your laugh may be buried, but it’s still there my sweet peach…somewhere.

 

 

 

 

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Shakin’ You all Night Long

The headline on my homepage asks, “What’s the dirtiest fruit in the grocery store?”

After a yoga class, two mojitos and a hot bath, the only obvious  answer is the banana. Duh!

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies." ~William Shakespeare~
“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.”
~William Shakespeare~

You see my sweet little Georgia peaches I came face to face with a dark-haired blue-eyed devil this weekend. A demon I thought I had left behind along with 3am-morning-after-escapes and my dark, dirty and delicious Mr. Grey.

As my Belgian pal would say…le sigh. Le sigh indeed Carson, le sigh. What is a girl to do???

You see, in a former life, I wouldn’t have thought twice about a younger man. A much younger man. In fact, a couple of them have been great fun, and a very smooth stroke to the ego. In the past  I’d have had a hot romp and set him loose, locking the plantation gate behind him with a flick of my blonde locks.

Instead, tonight, I let the last of the steaming bath evaporate from my skin, sip my drink and think, “Tomorrow….maybe, just maybe tomorrow…”

In the spirit of all that’s sultry, sexy, and reminiscent of our youthful, sexy, feminine, giggly, glory days, I present you with Mr. King and Mr. Hooker….do dim the lights, sip your bourbon, and let your mind wander to your young indiscretions as you listen to this;