A Room of One's Own

In today's news...

My house is under contract! They buyers accepted my counter offer on Saturday. They want to close on the 29th.

I put an offer on a house! It's lovely and I want to move right now. They countered with an ugly contingency clause that basically says that they're going to continue to market the house and should they get another offer, I have 48 hours to remove all contingencies and promise to buy the house or walk. I'm terrified this may get fucked up and I could end up totally screwed. With a closing in 3 weeks, odds are slim. I just need to get my buyer to move fast on all the inspections, etc. If they're going to back out, it's going to be during the inspection period.

At risk of sounding like a Jane Austen novel, I think I may be smitten. Nothing huge, just smitten. Sure signs include a stupid grin on my face and random giggling and giddiness. I feel very similar to my best friend's 14 year old daughter. It's kind of fun.

My interest in dating

I finally pinpointed what causes my need to date. Generally, I am busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. I am have a slew of committee and civic work. I try to convince legislators that voting for stupid shit is, well, stupid. I maintain two blogs. I work over 40 hours a week and raise a child. I have plenty to do. But, I feel the overwhelming need for a love life of some kind. Figured out why this week.

I'm not a needy person. I don't need someone to validate my existence. I don't need someone to give me self esteem. I'm not looking for someone to replace something that I lost or to fill a void that won't let me feel complete until it's filled. I don't need any of that crap. I want someone to remind me that I'm a girl.

I work in a very male dominated industry and for clientele that are used to working with other middle aged men. I have spent my whole week pounding my fist, insisting on answers, demanding action, fighting for invitations to meetings I need to be in, defending my team and going toe to toe with people who I am sure I have very much pissed off at this point with my reluctancy to budge. I will not be walked on, plowed over or disregarded. I fight fair but I fight hard.

One of my managers told me last week that what he likes about having me as a boss is that I "manage like a man." Meaning: I don't put up with crap, call it like I see it and refuse to micro manage. I hired these guys because they are smart and know their stuff. I'll let them do what they need to do and if they need my help, they'll let me know. Otherwise, I stay out of it. He had said that he's glad I don't mom them.

We did that color analysis a few months ago and I was a "blue/green" if you have any idea what that means. If you don't it, means that I am at first very sensitve, harmonious, giving, romantic, a dreamer and then second demanding, analytical, abrupt and inquisitive. Odd combination. At work, I am all the second part. My assistant told me she could never imagine me crying. I can't be the sensitive kind at work because I would be eaten alive. So, I have to manage like a man. Keep the other part tucked away.

By the time Friday rolls around, I'm done. I need to feel like a girl again. I need to bake. I need to feel pretty. I need to let someone else makes some decisions. I need that recognition that I don't have a Y chromosome.

Open Letter to the Online Dating Machine

Dear Stupid Online Boy,

Thank you oh-so-much for checking out my profile online and taking the time to “wink” at me online. I thought I would do you the courtesy of checking out your profile as your picture was kind of cute. Since I have done so, I would like to discuss a few things with you:

I have dating age parameters. Might I refer you back to my profile where it states them? I will not date anyone born during the Reagan Administration nor anyone who was alive when Kennedy was. You are 25. That makes you born in, roughly, 1982. I don’t think Ronnie was on vacation that year.

I see you are looking for a lady who is 22 to 28. I’m 33. I know many math teachers who may be able to give you a crash course in integers. I, myself, am very proficient in greater than and less than. 33 is greater than 28. See? You are also in need of a lady who makes significantly less money than I do and who has never been married and doesn’t have kids. This discrepancy between your wants and my reality is of concern to me. What is of even more concern is that you may not be able to read as all this info is contained in the aforementioned profile.

I see that you are turned off by brainiacs, power, public displays of affection, and tattoos. This leads me to the most important question. What on Earth would you want with a highly successful, Italian control freak with a tattoo and a Mensa IQ?

Oh wait, I see you’re turned on by such things as erotica, flirting, and skinny dipping. I’m gaining a little clarity here. All those things involve or evolve to nakedness. I’m now assuming you saw my profile pictures and saw that I’m not missing teeth nor do I weigh 250 pounds. I’m thinking, since my entire profile and your profile point to the assumption that we would kill each other within 15 minutes of meeting each other, that it’s not my sparkling personality and wit that you’re after. I’m thinking you’re after something else. Let me remind you that I’m 33, not 23. I am certain if you went to a good number of bars, you’ll find plenty of 23 year old girls with self esteem issues that are looking for validation from a man that will give it up for you and can be had, much like a bowl of salted peanuts, free with the purchase of a cocktail.

Best of luck to you!

One of life's little pleasures

Today, I hugged a friend who smelled very good. It got transferred on to me. I couldn't figure out all day long why I smelled like a boy! But it was such a nice smell I didn't care. I love it when a guy smells good. LOVE it. When I visited Kate earlier in the month, I spent over an hour on the dance floor with a delightful young man. He smelled fabulous. My little tipsy self sat on the couch with the girls at Kate's and I giggled about smelling like that boy more than a few times. Delightful. Then there's my friend Sebastian, who smells so unbelievably good that he has the ability to drive a whole party full of women crazy. "Dat boy smell good!" He really does smell that good. Honest.

I had a date on Sunday and once again, I smelled like a boy. It was just nice. I got home, got all tucked into bed and could still smell his cologne, which was quite yummy. I did more giggling. There is something so 11th grade about it. Regardless of what it is that's been done to warrant close enough proximity to transfer that scent, how innocent or how not it may be, one of the true pleasures in life is having that trace bit left over. I love that.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

I started doing the online dating thing last month. I figured why the hell not. I am a hard working single mother who volunteers way more than she should. How the hell else am I going to meet people? So I threw out there a painfully honest profile along with a picture of me at a Jimmy Buffett concert carrying a beer, a bag of chips and a 2 ft. ceramic Jesus wearing a hula skirt. I never imagined people would actually respond. And, hey if they did, they must have some kind of sense of humor to want to date ME.

It's been an adventure and I've not had any really bad experiences. Full disclaimer: I have only had dates with men named Dave. This is just happen stance and not intentional. Again, this confirms what I've learned, that I am attractive to a) brothas b) waiters c) men named Dave. I have a date with the third Dave, which is actually Dave #2 on Sunday and it will be date #1. Also, oddly, I have only had first dates. I have yet to have a second date.

I have had some random emails. One guy who is much older than anyone I would ever date, keeps emailing me times and locations where he would like to meet me. I've not even responded. It's a little odd and I'm wondering why he keeps emailing me with random appointments. But, today, someone went above and beyond. Today, I got the most hilarious email. Sadly, I don't think he's being funny. But, oh my, this one takes the cake. Mind you, I have never had any contact with this person. Ever.

Subject: How was your day?

"I didn't do a whole lot, I took Elvis for a walk on the green belt and had a smoothie at "in the raw" juice bar. Then got home and jumped in the pool, and ran a few errands. I took my mt. bike in for a tune up, looked at some tires for my truck and recycled some old motor oil. Are you doing anything for st. patty's tomorrow? I think we're going to Rula Bula on Mill ave. Well ttyl"

I am just without speech. Why, on a first contact with someone you'd like to date, would you mention that you recycled motor oil? Am I supposed to be impressed? Well, I do need my oil changed. There is nothing in my profile that would even allude to me being a trucks and tires kind of girl. It reminds me of this commercial about ten years ago where they had guys with awful pick up lines. One became quite the joke between my college boyfriend and I. There is a cowboy in a bar and he looks at a girl and says, "Honey, you look finer 'an a new pair a snow tires." Yeah, I'm feelin' that fine. 

Because I love a good story

I'm on a messageboard of very silly, wonderful women (and a few gay men and one straight man). Someone asked how people had met their husbands. I think some of the answers were too damn sweet and cute to not share with the world.

"We met in college when I cut class to go with a friend of mine who said, ‘You have to come to my speech class. There is the cutest guy EVER.’ And there was. I had to pass him to throw away a Coke can and he looked at me with the most enormous blue eyes and said in his best lounge lizard voice, ‘You know, you really ought to recycle your aluminum.’ Best pick-up line ever."

"We were pen pals during Vietnam. I got his name from a teen magazine. When he was discharged he came to Kentucky where I was in college to meet me...I transferred to a college in San Antonio the next semester and we got married when I graduated. It was a lifetime ago, 36 years in June."

"He brought me a fish. He and a mutual friend had been fishing and brought the fish to our house. I guess Mom didn't want to clean it or I wouldn't let her kill it, don't remember all those details now. I put the fish in the kitchen sink but it didn't live long. We'll be married 36 years in March." (So he caught her a delicious bass...)

"6th grade." (I hope Jen means they BOTH were in 6th grade. I kid. Why? Because I love.)

"We met at the South Music Hall (for those of you familiar with Birmingham) on Thanksgiving Night. I saw him give my roommate his number and I thought he was hitting on her so I never looked his way again. I didn't know they had gone to high school together and were old friends. Several hours later he came up to me and told me I had danced with every guy in the place that night but HIM and would I PLEASE pay him some attention."

Vanessa 2, Waiters 0

I had a showing of the house today and so I headed out for an undetermined amount of time and to an undetermined location. I ended up in Downtown Glendale. I'd not been there for about 15 years or so and have heard that it's come a long way.

It was lunchtime and stopped in a German place. My waiter was Joe. Let me tell you about Joe. Joe was the kind of guy who when you started chatting with him, he pulled up a chair. During my 45 minute lunch, I learned this about Joe: He is from the Bronx, going through a mid-life crisis, recently divorced, has a 12 year old back in New York, is getting a very large tattoo of just about every comic book character on his back (yes, he showed me), used to eat frozen Mallomars after smoking pot in the 70s., his favorite restaurant is a place called Pisano's, his mother is English and his dad is Puerto Rican. I'm not making any of this up.

I had about the best lunch I've had in ages. Thuringer bratwurst, kraut, spaetzle, a vinegar salad, warm rye bread and a pint German beer. They have live music in the beergarten after 4pm. Who knew? At he end of my lunch, Joe asked if it would be too forward to ask for my phone number. Yes, Joe, that would be very forward. Sorry. Oh my. Can I also say that this is the second time in 48 hours I have been asked out by a waiter while out by myself? I really must get some friends. I'm beginning to this I look horribly desperate. Not good.

I did some antiquing and bought a Creole cookbook of recipes compiled from Creole housewives in 1885. Interesting stuff. I'm now home and safely away from waiters and parked on my couch. It's pouring rain. I have a hot spiked cappuccino and I'm getting ready to go through the massive amount of classic movies in my TiVo, starting with Fellini's La Dolce Vita.

I have a new love

His name is Michael Chiarello.

A) He's Italian.

B) I think the salt and pepper hair is totally sexy. Seriously.

C) His dishes are so far from generic but not anything intimidating.

D) He just knows his stuff.

E) Him chopping onions is a thing of beauty.

Really, I could eat him with a spoon. He is that cute. I only wish I could convince him to use good seasoned cast iron over Le Crueset. No man is perfect.

Rerun

I'd like to revisit this discussion, if I may, as it seems I have gained just a little more perspective on this one.

Shari and I spent yesterday afternoon at our corporate skybox at the Open. It was freaking freezing but that's beside the point. We were surrounded by very cute, very smart, very funny men. I mean, if we wanted to find one, all we had to do was toss a rock and we'd hit three. Delightful, no? No. They were ALL married. All of them. There was one single guy but no one wants the Chad, mainly because of the mass number of women who have had the Chad and then fled either the company, country or heterosexuality.

I then had a very When Harry Met Sally moment. These men are most likely married for the same reason. Some woman saw the cute/smart/funny combo and decided to snag them and they were game. I am also certain that if you asked these men, who were mostly my age, when they got married, they would tell you some time in the last 7 years.

What's my point? Bear with me, I have one. I spent 7 years with the wrong man. I thought he was a good catch. Turns out I was wrong. It was smoke and mirrors, folks. I have come to the conclusion that unless there is a way to clone someone like Dave, Captain of the Married Men Brigade, I am going to be the crazy old spinster lady because someone out there, in the last 7 years, got married to my husband. She snagged him while I was distracted and that is just not nice.

Got THAT out of the way.

I had my first post-divorce date. It was not good. It lasted an hour and four minutes. Really, I had an awful time.

As I got into my car at 8:04 last night, I kind of laughed. It was over, my first official date was over. I can't tell you how relieved I was. I was never so happy to be home in my life. And, it wasn't because I didn't want to be on the bad date. I just wanted to be home.

I put on my pajamas, turned on the Golden Globes, poured a glass of wine, grabbed a huge slice of homemade chocolate pound cake and sat under my blanket in front of the fire with my dog at my feet. I was in Heaven. I felt like I was right where I needed to be. Home. I was happy. So incredibly happy.

Would it have been nice to share that with someone else? Sure. Maybe. But, it's not a requirement and I'm not going to worry about not having it. I'm totally okay with laughing at Tom Hank's jokes by myself. My life feels good and I'm wholly responsible for that.