Happy ValenWhines Day…Reposted

I seem to have lost my pen. Perhaps, I’ve lost my mind? I have words swirling around in my head but haven’t been able to find my passion for writing. I am working on a few things but as I dodge the artillery from fat naked babies and those who have lost their minds in creative expression of pink and rosey love, I thought I might repost Happy ValenWhines Day. …..some called it bitter. They don’t get it. I rather think it is evolved and enlightened….what say you, Darlings???

You would think that a girl who chose a site with swirling letters and pink hearts and who refuses to give up on finding and living her happily ever after, and who loves romantic poetry and chivalry would find Valentine’s Day a blissful celebration of love, right? Well, between you and me, I think Valentine’s Day is for children and those who need the public validation from others, or worse, something about which to ValenWhine. Am I jaded or enlightened? Let’s consider…..

The history of Valentine’s Day came from St. Valentine, a Christian martyr. Some say he wrote a love note signed, “Your Valentine” just before he was executed. (Some modern Saints barely miss execution on this day because they neglect to send dancing cupids and other cutesy red and pink nonsense) Others say the day was to celebrate the first pairing of the birds. I’ve never aligned well with martyrs and since I watched Hitchcock’s film with birds attacking Suzanne Pleshette, I have always found fowl to be foul. I don’t buy that the deep romantic history is the cause of such frivolous passion.

When I was younger, I loved it when my Daddy brought my Mother, sister and me chocolates. Then again, I loved getting chocolates pretty much any time as a child. As an adult, I have had my fill of contrived, rushed, themed, pink heart gestures of “love” among the masses on February 14th. A few memories are forever etched on my mind. There was the otherwise elegant and sophisticated restaurant that on Valentine’s Day offered an overpriced fixed menu of cold pink passion fruit soup (aka jello mixed with milk), heart shaped goose liver pate, Cornish game hen (which one may argue resembled road kill on a day when birds were pairing), and a tepid lumpy chocolate fondue for two. If I had any thought of eating the heart-shaped pate with toasts, it was quickly erased when the gangsta looking brow pierced waiter brought me a rose and slobbery kissed the very hand that was to lift the toast point to my lips. I thought I would die and sign the bill, “Your Valentine”! YUK!

As a former marketer of chocolate candy, I know for a fact that most candy and flowers are purchased by men on Valentine’s Day after 4 pm! The grocery stores offer “express love lanes” for Don Juans on the dash. The poor guys know that they cannot go home without the jelly and cream filled chocolate nuggets and roses priced double for the day. I am sure the jewelry stores staff up for the day as well. Most of the guys in my life have welcomed my philosophy. Nonetheless, having been programmed by ex-loves and Hallmark for many years and possibly feeling some notion of “damned if I do, damned if I don’t”, none have been willing to completely forego romantic February gifts. I have gotten Happy Mid-February roses and fabulous jewelry on Groundhog Day. Both were clever and perfectly irreverent for me!

So, my girly girls, do not ValenWHINE if your lover does not deliver love on demand for this trivial day. Do not ValenWHINE if you don’t have a Valentine with whom to spend the 14th day of February (remember he was the guy who was executed!). Think about it. Does it mean anything if your “love” is being forced into the masses of pink hearts and red roses on a day when he is “expected” to do so? Bring me a single wildflower on an ordinary day and I will swoon. Send me a book of poetry from your travels when no one else is getting sappy cards and I will melt like a heart shaped molten lava desert. Boycott contrived, silly “hallmark endorsed” holidays with me and I will consider you a kindred rebel spirit. Love me and surprise for no reason at all. Most importantly, give me the confidence and serenity of real love and loving actions with or without the pink hearts.

Returning Cupid’s Fire….Girl Goes On!

Christmas Past, Present and Future…..Random thoughts on Christmas Eve

It’s Christmas Eve! Hooray! I have always loved Christmas Eve. Yes, some have been sad, especially the one spent burying my paternal grandfather when I was seven but mostly, they have been fun and special. When I was little, we would gather at my grandparents’ house with all my cousins, aunts and uncles. My Mother is one of five girls and we gathered at her parents’ house around 4 pm for food, family, and gifts. Later, neighbors, more distant relatives, and friends would drop by for Christmas cheer and good tidings if not a toddy or two. It was a welcoming, warm and lively scene with music, love, and lots and lots of laughter. It all changed in 2001 when my Grandmother died and took another dramatic change a few years later when my Grandfather grieved himself to death. I didn’t fully realize just how much it all meant to me or how clearly it defined me until it was all gone. My Mother, siblings, cousins, and aunts try to keep the memories alive and describe it to our children. It is nearly impossible to do but it does my soul good to know that we are trying to hang on to such wonderful memories. Life goes on and the children are forming their own meaningful traditions as we spend time at my Mother’s home. To go on and create new memories is part of life.

Christmas Past: Last year, a few of my cousins, aunts, and siblings gathered at my Mom’s house. We took turns sharing our favorite childhood Christmas memories. My cousin, “K” was one of the first and she mentioned a Christmas, probably when I was 10 years old, when my Grandmother got a new stereo. We all chimed in! Of course it was the best Christmas Eve ever as it was very lively and loud with lots of dancing, swirling, and twirling in our festive Christmas (not gay) apparel. “Everyone was having so much fun,” my sister yelled. “We were dancing to everything from Beatles to Patsy Cline!” I added. “Even the uncles and Paw Paw were dancing”, my cousin Deb added. My aunt Sue chuckled and shared, “The men were all drunk on moonshine!” “Huh?” we all said in unison. Well, doesn’t that explain a lot! My Mother tried to stop her from telling the story but my aunt explained that my grandfather had gotten moonshine from some one . That someone was probably his first cousin who owned steel mills in Alabama and Louisiana. This is the same rebel cousin who had the balls to drive a Mercedes in a family of Ford loyalists and who in the summer brought chests full of crawfish from Louisiana and with the predictability of locusts in the summer, would ceremoniously hold one up before the boil commenced and announce as he rubbed his not so large belly, “When this son of a bitch left Boston, he was a 6 pound lobster. Damn I need to start swimming!” We all laughed as if we had never heard it before and carried on with our barefoot revelrie. That was summer and this was Christmas so I digress. No matter from whence the moonshine commenced, it provided my grandfather with a chance at mischief. He certainly loved mischief and a good laugh. He challenged all of his son in laws to a secret “who can outdrink the old man” challenge. My grandfather was the true patriarch of the family so the younger bucks were ready for the challenge. My Dad was always a tee-totaler so he did not participate but the others were in RARE form. They didn’t outdrink him but they out performed him. Needless to say, the girls all drove home. Putting together Santa Claus at 1 am and getting up at 6 am after drinking moonshine must have been a sugar plum treat! “The girls” all brought their favorite albums the next day and were very happy to for once to play loud Christmas carols on Christmas Day. I’m not sure what the moral of this story is. Perhaps, it’s “you just never know the real cause of someone’s joy!”
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Christmas Present: Christmases are different these days. They are still special and fun but I think we are all getting a little nutty. Maybe life is just getting bizarre. Divorces, dementia for my Dad, teenagers, tornadoes…yes, tornadoes. We arrived at my Mom’s this year late night to find a Moorish fog shrouding the house and property. With my Dad’s illness, my Mother has some one at the house for at least a little while each week day. We awoke on our first morning to her instructions, “Get up! Tonya is coming!” “Straighten the bed, Tonya is coming”, “She will be here any minute, move your things!” OKAY! We sprang into action and were ready for Tonya who is amazing by the way so I am not complaining. She does so much more than clean and bathe my Dad and we appreciated her offer to stay with my Dad while we went to lunch and ran errands. We later left my children to stay with my Dad as we finished some Christmas shopping. We stopped at the bank and that is when things got weird. Tornado sirens sounded. They were ignored by all but me. I live in Florida and am not accustomed to tornado sirens. Like some apocalyptic Bruce Willis action film, a male voice coming from speakers mounted on power lines, buildings, and God knows where else started issuing a warning and location of a tornado. Holy Ruby Slippers Batman!, there is a freaking tornado 30 miles away and if I am not mistaken, they travel about 60 miles per hour. No one flinched but rather kept chatting, banking and bantering. I wanted to go! If there is one memory that is forever etched on my mind, it is that if you interrupt grown-ups while they are talking, you will most certainly feel the sting of a pink plastic Stanley brand hairbrush on your derriere. I did not want to interrupt Martha’s tale of failed divinity (candy not religion) as we stood in the bank with sirens blaring and warnings from the speakers, but a tornado was on its freaking way! Finally, for the safety of my children, I decided to risk the hairbrush, “Mom, there is a tornado on its way, can we go check on the boys and maybe hide under mattresses in the basement?” We left but not with the hair on fire urgency that I felt. We got to the house to find that no one was watching tv which in itself was weird since we usually argue over football, basketball, movies and the Weather Chanel. I tuned into the Weather Channel to learn that the funnel was spotted just 10 miles from the house! I began the controlled panic evacuation to the basement. The boys started gathering their gaming equipment, my Dad with his dementia had no clue what we were doing to him and refused to attempt the stairs. My Mom announced that she was going to make a fresh pot of coffee before we adjourned to the shelter. The weather guy was having a stroke as he urged all in our area to seek shelter immediately! As it turned out, the funnel passed us without touching ground, limbs were down everywhere, the coffee was good and my Dad finally agreed to go downstairs AFTER the storm. The moral? Maybe it is that “Disaster is an outsider seeing the bed unmade. Tornadoes are just inconvenient interruptions to a good story and even if there is damage, we always survive the storm.”
Yes, these are random thoughts with no real theme and I would finish but I am going to make divinity over which everyone will swoon despite the clouds. Who knows what Christmas Future holds…… Do we really want to know??
Life is a Whirlwind and Girl Goes On!

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Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go

On a recent business trip, my plane was delayed. It was then that I realized some people have brains wired to invent Post It notes or tiny little computers and phones that take the world by storm while other people have brains wired to play little tunes with lyrics that most likely will never change the world. I am in the second group. Instead of inventing the world’s next great widget, I spent most of the five hour delay catching up on correspondence and composing lyrics while dancing to the drummer playing in my head. The drummer was playing “Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow” perhaps influenced by the live band playing Christmas tunes in the airport atrium. I began singing…
The Weather in Atlanta is frightful and all the flights are booked full.
Delta cancelled some flights I know. Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
Security has made us all strippers and TSA guys aren’t big tippers.
Since I’m not making any dough, Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
When we finally board the plane a first class seat I’ll hope to gain
but with these platinum guys in line the back middle seat will be mine.
Oh, the bar looks so enticing as the plane they are de-icing.
In Orlando it doesn’t snow. Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
My computer battery is dying and my gosh we’re still not flying.
Updates are coming in slow, Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
Well I finally got to board and my bags are securely stored.
But then air traffic told us no. Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
All day I’ve been in a meeting and now it’s started sleeting.
I am one tired and crabby ho. Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
Will we finally get libation when the flight attendant appears in aisle
Not according to Fed regulation, she cheerfully says with a smile.
Two hours on the tarmac talking to a guy called Billy Mack
Finding love in the exit row? Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
Now the baby in back is wailing and my kidneys have started failing
The seatbelt sign is aglow Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
We’ve just been cleared for takeoff, now give me some Smirnoff
and a beer with whiskey for my beau. Let Me Go! Let Me Go! Let Me Go!
When I finally crawl in bed, it’s 2 am and the morning I dread
But at 7, I’ll be on the phone, Girl Goes On! Girl Goes On! Girl Goes On!

Okay, Sinatra I’m Not….Scarlett

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Good Housekeeping Seal of Disapproval

It is Thanksgiving and I am home visiting my parents. My Mother is brining turkey, mulling cranberries, arranging harvest themed decorations, and generally living up to her “Martha Marie Stewart” reputation. She makes homemade marshmallows, has chickens that lay pastel eggs, sews evening gowns from curtains and all manner of “guilding the lily” ideas. I grew up in this environment and while it does not come naturally, I have tried on many occasions to emulate this creative domestic genius. She has begun writing a book of her ideas and recipes for our benefit. I have a few entries that may work for a different book or maybe even a case study. Either I have gutter minded friends or a bad case of domestic Freudism! Here are a few pages from my book of opportunities.
Wine on the Deck Birthday Celebration – My neighbor was celebrating a birthday and I thought it might be nice to have a few people over for wine and a casual cook-out on the deck. It was a perfect Spring evening and the group was to be larger than my supply of wine glasses. I bought the clear solo cups. We started the evening with a beautiful golden Puligny Montrachet. My neighbor, the physician, exclaimed, “Scarlett, how festive to serve urine samples in honor of my birthday!”
St. Patrick’s Day 4 Leaf Clover Bread – For my son’s church preschool St. Patrick’s Day celebration, I was assigned to make the bread. I had this great idea to color the dough green and make 4 leaf clovers. It was simple. I rolled quarter sized circles and put four of them together and attached a stem at the bottom. They were sooo cute! The four year olds all broke off the top two circles leaving two circles with a stem in the middle. The church pre-school mommies and teachers looked at the bread balls and stem and tried not to giggle but everyone saw the anatomical resemblance. On the 8th day, God created Pillsbury. Girl blushes.
Halloween Costume Idea – One year, when my son was about three, I arrived home from a business trip to find that his green Teletubbie costume had not arrived. He had his heart set on that costume. I was not going to disappoint. With hotel sewing kit in hand and my Mother’s inspiration, I was ready to improvise! I took his green rain suit to use as a base. I ripped apart a green cocktail dress for the trim and hat. I will admit that the hat portion looked like a giant green penis on his head but the 3 year old was happy and felt like a Teletubbie (albeit a “happy” Teletubbie). Of course, there was no avoiding the trick or treating at our very dry humored candy generous neighbor. As he doled out sugary treats, he looked at me and exclaimed, “What the hell is on his head?” I answered, “It’s a Teletubbie thing, you wouldn’t know about those.” He answered, “A Teletubbie Wang??” I screamed, “No! No, it’s a Teletubbie head, they are…” He roared with laughter as he interupted by giving my son three full sized candy bars and saying, “Here man, you are going to need these and probably more. Your Mother is a crazy girl. Come back when you’re old enough to drink.”
Pool Party Fun! – For my child’s birthday pool party at our house, I wanted to be creative but given my past, I didn’t want to chance making up too much on my own. Our pool parties include lots of children and their parents so I wanted a festive presentation. My Mom told me that freezing lemonade in decorative ice trays with fruit or flowers is a great way to keep lemonade cold in the pitcher wthout diluting it. What a perfect idea! Because I don’t own ice cube trays, I improvised and used the egg tray that came with the fridge. I added marschino cherries and froze my lemonade. Of course, I was running behind schedule and dumped them into the pitcher without much notice. One of the dads poured lemonade into his glass and said, “Nice ice cubes! Are they boobs? Nice!!” OH NOOOOOO!!!!
With the Good Housekeeping Seal of Disapproval, Girl Goes On!

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With a Cup of Joe and Kindness to Go!

I am not a morning person unless of course my morning starts around 8:30, then I am wild about mornings. My oldest son is a morning person if his morning starts at 10:30. The tardy bell at his school sounds at 7:20 am. Can you believe that? We have a few challenges. I have been driving him to school and the world’s most inefficient carpool circle makes the 4 mile commute take 40 minutes round trip! This week, we decided he could ride the bus. Today was day one of Operation Big Yellow and I was ecstatic that he made it! Yes! My commute was cut to five minutes as I agreed to drive him the mile to the bus stop. Yes! Yes! Yes!
Still in my jammies and robe, I was doing the Snoopy dance into the front door and through the kitchen to my Jura coffee machine (aka one of the greatest inventions EVER) with visions of my first cup of frothy, hot black coffee in my hand on the porch in quiet morning bliss. I pushed the button and heard the “whir” of an empty coffee chamber. What? The Jura always tells me when she needs water, a filter change, grinds emptied, cleaning, COFFEE BEANS! There was no notification at all. Jura, the best communicator I know, with her digital sensory technology, failed to tell me she needed coffee beans? I was ready to forgive her betrayal as I reached for my backup coffee canister to find it EMPTY. I kept panic at bay. This has happened before and that is why I keep an emergency bag of Peet’s coffee beans in the pantry, top shelf, far right behind the emergency box of Tazo black tea bags and in front of the emergency bag of semi-sweet Ghiradelli chocolate chips. The tea bags and chocolate were there but the coffee was not. Nooo! How could this happen? There was no coffee in this entire damn house! Not one hand crafted and carefully roasted bean. I began to employ yoga breathing then graduated to Lemans as I searched my memory for possible coffee bean stashes. The cupboards were bare and there wasn’t even a single bean lodged in Jura’s chamber for a quick fix drop. We were in a state of emergency.
The snoopy dance became a frantic flight as I grabbed my purse and keys, opened the front door, and realized that I was still wearing my jammies. Grr. I quickly pulled on yoga pants and a sweat shirt and made it to Starbucks in 3.567 minutes, a record. Not only did I break the Southern rule of never leaving the house without at least powder and lipstick, I walked into Starbucks with bed head, no makeup at all, my pj’s crunched and hanging out of my sweatshirt, and mismatched flip flops. How could these people be so happy at 6:50 in the morning? They were laughing at me. I could tell! I glared for a second and almost said something snarky to this overly perky, perfectly made up chubby chick in tennis attire but decided she wasn’t worth it. I knew what I wanted and I was going after it. I got the bag of Verona blend beans and headed to the counter. I don’t really love Starbucks but my supplier of Peet’s was not yet open. I would manage. I knew that despite the most recent betrayal, I could count on Jura to make Starbucks delicious.
The man at the counter asked if I wanted the beans ground. “No!” I nearly shouted, “Jura does that just before she makes the frothy perfect brew”. He smiled and nodded knowingly and said with sincere empathy, “So you ran out of beans?” There was no need to answer. He understood. I paid and he asked me to wait. He quickly filled a cup of coffee from the brew in process behind the counter and said, “It’s not Jura but it may take the edge off until you get home. My treat” If I was the sensitive type and wasn’t at that moment a pitbull in pink jammies and yoga pants, I am pretty sure I would have cried. This short, fat, bald, middle aged man with bad teeth and a crappy job understood me better than anyone on the planet. Could this be the love gods telling me that my quest for a handsome prince was misguided? Was this the man who would know and love me in my darkest hour? I stared for a moment, imagined him without his shirt and decided without a doubt that this was not love but rather one of those pay it forward things. This guy had showered me with kindness and now, I should do something wonderful for someone else. So, as soon as I’ve had my second cup of coffee, I will be looking for a good deed to perform. It has to be a really good one of equal proportion to this extreme act of kindness from the Starbucks stranger.

With Cup of Joe and Kindness to Go…..Girl Goes On!

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Trick or Tramp!

It’s almost Halloween and you know what that means…….otherwise conservative women dress like bizarre fairy tale tramps and parade around in outfits that they normally wouldn’t wear beyond their own boudoir. I must confess I have been guilty of that on one occasion and this year looks like it will mark the second. Of course, there is no “Trampometer” so the level of trampiness is subjective at best. Quite a few people in the past few weeks have brought forth the question, “Why do women do this? Is there a recessed desire to be that which we dress to be on All Hallow’s Eve? For me, that is a bit frightening when I consider some of my choices.
When I first arrived in Wonderland (my world post divorce and post long term relationship) and met Holly who had just emerged from a horrible 14 year marriage, we became fast friends. We met for Happy Hour one evening and stumbled onto a new bar that was to celebrate grand opening on Halloween weekend. The bar was not officially open the evening we discovered it but the doors were open and they had a couple of managers discussing plans, bartenders stocking, and other people doing whatever it was they were doing. There were stripper poles on the corners of the bars! I had never seen them in my life and thought they were hysterical. Fully clothed, Holly and I asked to try them. He was only slightly amused but the manager granted permission. Our bumping and grinding was more like bumbling and giggling and it was fun! It didn’t take long for the bartenders, managers and a few people who saw us from the window to take their turns on the poles. We had short people, tall people, men, women, big and small. It was a riot! The manager gave us passes for the Halloween soiree and free drinks. That Halloween party was one of first full blown SHEnanigans and there are plenty of stories to be told at a later time for the costume selection is the topic at hand. We debated and discussed what our costumes would be. We knew in a place like that, we needed to be sexy. I chose to be a naughty school girl with a very short Burberry plaid skirt, stiletto hot pink Pliner Couture boots, tight white t shirt with a pink bra, and a Barbie backpack. Holly was a witch with a very short skirt, plunging neckline, black stiletto boots and lots of glitter. We were va va voom! We were a bit stressed about our appearance as we departed my house and we kept asking one another, “Is this shirt with the pink bra showing too slutty?, Is this skirt too short? I want to look cute and sexy but not slutty. People are going to think we are sluts?” In the end, we decided that no one would know us anyway. We arrived at the bar to find we could have been school marms! The fact that we were wearing bras made us conservative. We were worried about our skirts being too short? Most girls weren’t wearing skirts but rather thongs! Wow! Grown up Halloween is frightening! It was a bizarre collection and skin parade!
So, why do grown women choose sexy cop, French maid, naughty school girl, etc.? Are these our fantasies and Halloween gives us a green light to express that without losing reputation and self respect? It seems the guys love Halloween parties because of the flesh parade but most only chuckle if asked why women dress like bizarre fairy tramps on this occasion. If the costume choice is some deep reflection of our fantasies, I can’t help but worry about some of my choices since that night. Let’s see, I showed up at a party wrapped from head to toe in bloody bandages as unidentified victim, Jane Doe. Everyone else was a sexy cat, bunny, flapper…I was a murder victim. Last year, I wasn’t feeling very festive so I found my son’s old batman cape and ears, donned black tights and a turtleneck and went as fully clothed BATMAN while everyone else was sexy Wonderwoman, Catwoman, etc. Am I balanced or in need of therapy? What is a girl to do? This year, I will don a sexy Mad Hatter costume with short dress and stiletto heels just to cover all my bases if not less of my body. When in Transylvania……
Trick or Tramp….Girl Goes On!

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Online Dating..You’ve Got…What??

I know that I simply cannot write stories about dating unless I keep up with trends like online dating. Sometimes, that gets extremely tedious and I find little thrill in the hunt. At times, I’d rather surf for sport. Since, I don’t plan to devour my kill, I surf, respond, tag and release. Some online profiles and headlines on the dating site are wickedly entertaining, unintentionally of course. Also some of the correspondence is equally entertaining. Here are some favorites from the Dating Hall of Shame.

Dating Site Headline: I am a passionate king looking for my beautiful princes.
My Response: Princes? You are looking for Princes? Did you register as a pedafile? Should you consider michaeljacksondating.com?

Dating Site Description: 48 year old man looking for women between ages 18-50….(this one actually found me and wrote to me that he believed we had a lot in common)…
My Response: You are 48 and would date an 18 year old? Really?? I don’t think we have much in common at all…I don’t go to proms.

25 Year old emailed me even though I set a range of 35-50.
Response: I am very flattered and you are very cute but I would be terribly embarrassed if I caused an Amber alert on our first date.

Headline: “Herpes Free” (I am not kidding, it said that)
Response: That is awesome! The last guy charged me waaayyy too much!

Posted by a 63 year old “okay” looking guy: Looking for beautiful blonde, Age 22-32, athletic, tanned and toned, educated and intelligent, successful and independent who isn’t materialistic.
Response: No Virginia, there isn’t a Santa and he is not bringing you a Barbie.

Email sent to me by the vile looking Neanderthal or missing link: “You are woman for me”.
Response: No Tarzan, you need a zookeeper and a group of nuns.

I got a nondescript email from “Lookin4Wub”.
Response: Dear Elmer, Lookin for Wub?…did you grow wearing of hunting those Wascally Wabbits?

Then there is the guy who keeps changing his online name. Same guy, same description, no pic, new name. I love Holly’s line, “the names have not been changed to protect the innocent because in our world, there are no innocent.” From whom is he running?

Some guys get creative with the names. There are times you really may want to phone a friend: spoil4u (like milk past the expiration?), FitFirFun (Well hot damn Jethro!), Wadsoft (what????), Repete101 (aka reeks geek), Howlinwolf (Call of the Weird), MeatUSoon (you wish), SoberTony2yrs (Yeah, okay, does your AA Sponsor know you just winked at an avid wine collector?), AH4U (Sorry, I divorced my AH, don’t want another one), Avidgolferami (did you buy that on late night tv for $4.95 + S&H?), lifeliver (transplant?), Pweed (in your pants?), Doinitnow (TMI!)…..Oh, trust me, there are more…the list goes on….

The Girl Goes On!

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GGO Dating PROtocol

Well, the recently aired comedy of errors on arranging what should have been a simple date with Andrew has illuminated the need to discuss dating protocol. Of course, I don’t claim to have all of the answers but I do think I have been on the dating scene and have enough friends on the scene to make some suggestions for protocol. I am sure that I am missing a few and there may be some who believe my protocol is in error. Let’ s have a GGO chat, shall we?
IT Girls are not NOW Women!– By NOW, I am referring to the National Organization of Women, that militant tribe of women who don’t like being girls. They want to be members of traditionally male country clubs (i.e. Augusta National), do battle with men on a daily basis for EQUAL everything. While as a career girl, I do think that equality in business is good for everyone, I don’t want to be EQUAL in everything at home. I love tradition, gentility and chivalry. I like a man who takes charge! In romance, the man should ask the lady out for a date, unless of course, she is inviting him to a prearranged, organized function. This is not a time for mealy mouthed indecisiveness. Make a plan and go with it! We will be giddy with delight! My best experiences have gone a bit like this. The man asks me out for a certain day/evening. I say yes. He then says something like, “How about Roy’s near your house at 7:30? I’d love to pick you up at your house or we can meet there if you are more comfortable with that.” At that time, if I have a conflict or need a different time, I can say, “Roy’s is perfect! I volunteer at the orphanage until 6:30, can we make it 8 o’clock? I shall meet you there.” We have an understanding! We have a time! We have a place! We had a great time!
And the Check Goes To…..the person who invited! Yes, this will typically be the man. Men should initiate the date. Girls, do not call boys, ask them out, or be the desperate female hunter. You look foolish. There are exceptions for planned events, parties, charity functions, etc. If the girl invites a man to fundraiser party, concert, etc, she should not ask him to pay! There are elegant ways to handle the few exceptions to the dinner check rule. If it is the boy’s birthday, the girl should offer to pay, unless of course, he has insisted on going someplace out of your budget stratosphere. If a girl really wants to pay on occasion, which is fine by the way, she can avoid awkwardness by quietly slipping her credit card to the waiter on her way to “powder her nose.” I know that some will disagree on this one but tradition is good.
First and Last Place – Real men do not allow a woman to split the tab on a first date! Period! This is happening far too often with me and my friends! I will offer because it is a wonderful revelation of gentility and upbringing. If the girl offers, a gentleman will look almost shocked and will reply, “absolutely not!” to which she smiles graciously and thanks him. On the other hand, the dating Neanderthal will grab your card with joy and think he has found the woman of his dreams! I actually have a story that I will share in an upcoming Dating Hall of Shame post. I actually have two if I include Holly’s Neanderthal date who requested that they split a $20 tab!
Your Baby, Your Sitter – Girls, I cannot believe this is actually happening but I have gotten three emails from men who have gone on a first date with a woman who asked him to pay for her babysitter! That is just wrong on so many levels! The child(ren) are YOURS. If you are on a tight budget, then ask a friend to sit or barter sitting with a friend but DO NOT ask a man in your early stages of dating to pay your sitter. In the best light, you are taking advantage and in the real light, you look like a call girl mommy. If you have a real relationship and the babysitter is causing budget issues or preventing you from going out, you can allow him to pay IF he offers. I will absolutely die if I get comments from guys who have been date extorted by chicks having them pay for manicures, new clothes, boob jobs, etc during early stages of dating.
Halfway is Halfass . If you are meeting someone for a date (and in 2011, with online dating, weirdos, and paranoia, we often are better off meeting dates until we know them), HE should come to you. This is chivalry. I agreed to go on a date with a guy who lived over an hour away from me. He did indeed take charge of date planning but charged full speed ahead….in the wrong direction. He sent me a text message stating that we should meet at a Chili’s in an area 45 minutes from my house and very unfamiliar to me. On a first date, he would have me drive far away in a strange land to eat Cougar Chow? I’d rather stay home or GO FISH.
Quality Assurance on a Budget – I know the last point sounded materialistic on the surface but it really isn’t about the place but rather it is about the experience. I realize that in these dire economic times, dating can be a strain on the budget for men. A girl of quality will be happy meeting you at Starbucks near a park for conversation and a stroll. My point is that being a chivalrous gentleman does not have to break the bank. Some girls will insist of fine dining and of course, we all love that, but run from those who EXPECT that from you. A romantic second date may even include a picnic lunch with a bottle of wine near a park or beach….sweet romance without breaking the already “broke”. It is fine..chivalry is not about wallet.
Mind Your P’s and Q’s! – I can see where some men are feeling used and abused these days. It seems that girls can be so demanding and take good manners and generosity for granted. We must NOT let this happen. ALWAYS, thank your date and I am NOT implying physical thanks for those of you with minds in the gutter! A simple thank you with a follow up text to sincerely thank him for the date is perfect. This is a good time to let him know if you want to see him again or not. “Thank you for dinner. I had an absolutely wonderful time. Have a great day!” means I like you. “Thank you for dinner. You are very nice and I enjoyed meeting you. Maybe we will run into one another again” means you are not for me.
Our Toolbox Contains Mascara Wands and Shimmer Not Magic Wands and a Sledge Hammer: Sometimes the chemistry just doesn’t work! If you get a dismissive hint like the one above, “maybe we will run into one another again”, don’t ask the girl out again. It is awkward. There is no magic spell that can create chemistry. It is either there or it isn’t. Inviting her to an over the top date may get her to go out with you if she is shallow but she won’t be infatuated with you. We have started applying mascara for the next card in our Go Fish game so don’t make us locate the Sledgehammer….it just isn’t pretty.
With Primer in Hand…..Girl Goes On!

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Andrew wants to ask the audience….

I got an email from Andrew. Of course, I am dying to write a preface prior to publishing it; however, I don’t want to be accused of trying to slant the opinions of the audience. I will have my say after you all weigh in because there is a little more to the story…. PLEASE, don’t feel compelled to defend me….give your honest opinions (as a comment or email). Hey, guys, please weigh in as well – even though Andrew addressed it to “ladies”. From: Andrew….

So ladies… this goes out to all of you GGO fans and loyal supporters of Scarlett. Scarlett and I have had an online “relationship” for a few months now. My name is Andrew. I have come to the conclusion that Scarlett may indeed be the female me. Now, after several weeks of communicating online, WE decided that perhaps we should meet for some wine and conversation. Scarlett, like me, appreciates fine wine. A few weeks ago, I happened to be having a meeting in Scarlett’s city. We agreed on meeting one evening for, at least on my part, the much anticipated vino. Here is where the plot thickens. Scarlett let me know that she had an earlier business commitment in the afternoon. After arriving to town, I settled in with my company counter-parts and “assumed” that she would let me know when said company function had concluded. Hours passed and still no call/message from Scarlett. I initially did not contact her earlier in the day, for I did not want to interupt her, since it was business related. I finally sent her a message asking if she had changed her mind about meeting…and WHAM…she tells me that I should have contacted her earlier to firm-up the evening. It was downnhill from there. I was shocked…and admittedly saddened that things went from..sugar to…not so sweet so quickly.
Fast forward to a couple of nights ago. We exchanged a few emails and I thought we perhaps were burying the (her) hatchet and all was as well as can be expected.
So, tonight I send her this email….”I am watching Bridesmaids…you should be snuggled with me drinking a big red wine”
Her reply.. as stated was “What the heck is Bridesmaids? Are you gay? Is it a porn flick? The wine part sounds good…well and you are pretty cute so the snuggle(gay word by the way) part may work…even if you are a first date RETARD!!!”
Was this harsh ladies…or am I being overly sesitive?

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Manthropologie: GGO Guide to Online Dating

Parenting two active boys alone, owning a business, and keeping up with my friends and SHEnanigans keeps me pretty busy but I confess, I still like romance, men and dating. I like the thought of finding the romantic ideal who rocks my world. I typically don’t have time to search for love or even like so in times of feast, love has found me and in times of famine, I have flown solo. Then I discovered online dating. I always swore I would NEVER do that but the concept makes a lot of sense. Recent statistics claim that 20% of all couples met online! I wrote a lengthy profile and posted flattering but realistic photos. Voila! there I was, an item on Cupid’s menu at the Cyber Love Café, just waiting to be emailed by the intelligent, witty, charming man I described in my must have section. The multitude of winks, blinks, emails, and proposals is always very flattering! Flattering and overwhelming and full of potential hazards. There are hundreds of books and articles offering advice and rules for navigating the hazards of online dating. As a public service, GGO is pleased to offer the same in 10 easy chapters for FREEEE!!!!!

Chapter 1 – Don’t Believe Everything You Read or See: After sifting through many profiles, pictures, likes and dislikes, I found a guy to whom I responded. He sent an email declaring the many things we had in common. His pics were pretty cute. Some were far away but there were a couple of close-ups that convinced me that he was attractive so we arranged to meet for coffee. The man I saw at Starbucks looked vaguely familiar. Had he not recognized me immediately, I may have concluded that my would be date was a no-show. He was obviously 30 pounds heavier than his picture and much older. Did he post a ten year old glamour shot? Did he think I wouldn’t notice? They don’t serve booze at Starbucks…I noticed! I ordered a venti mymatchurnotto lowbigfat decepto latte cinco goodbye-o…TO GO!

Chapter 2 – Drink Me: While some weren’t exactly as their pics indicated, they were close and “okay”. In Wonderland, Alice found a bottle labeled “Drink Me”. In my Wonderland, I also find bottles labeled Drink Me and they come from many vineyards and varietals. While “Drink Me” didn’t make me taller, it did seem to make my dates taller, more handsome and more entertaining. Wine makes everything a little more rose’ but the hangover may be a hanger on….Beware of viewing dates through rose’ colored glasses.

Chapter 3 – Body Type Is Not Time for Body Typo: “About Average” is one of the selections for body type in the online profile. Considering the obesity trend in America, I cannot really call you a liar for considering yourself average. However, please note that there is an option for “a few extra pounds” that may be more fitting, yes? I am not being critical of the extra pounds. I truly believe that there is a drink for every thirst and a love for every heart. If you are a chunky monkey, someone will find you cute. It probably will not be an avid runner who listed “Fit and Toned” or “Slender” in the must have section.

Chpater 4: Gun Shy in the Gallery: Obviously, a lot of men have been scarred by junk in the trunk and “About Average” typos. To avoid being duped, many now ask for additional pictures by text or email. There are also some who have apparently allowed the Playboy subscription expire in these dire economic times and they ask for more revealing pictures than can be posted on a dating site. Do girls really send these? Really? Have dignity and grace been replaced with desperate and gullible? Unless you want to be the locker room pin-up girl, don’t do it! Of course, guys will share them with their friends. That’s just creepy.

Chapter 5: Textdirtytome.com: 900 numbers take a hit! Boys from far away are looking for the free textdirtytome.com or phonesexforfree.com services. Decide if you want to be a non-profit sexter. If you do, go ahead and send the naked pic and start correspondence with pervie pen-pal who probably really looks like the Elephant Man. Yuck.

Chapter 6: Literacy Counts! Please read the darn profile! If you despise drinking, then don’t wink at someone who collects wine. If you don’t like children or think they taste like chicken or if you need 100% attention from someone, don’t email a chick with young children! If you rarely leave your sofa, don’t email someone who exercises 4 times a week… Picture perfect means you have to get the big picture!

Chapter 7: Language Arts for 300 points Please : if you type everything in lower case and do not use any punctuation at all OR! IF YOU TYPE EVERYTHING!, IN CAPS AND MISUSE PUNCTUATION..or if you cannot master grammar, the girl who is a would be writer and adoring fan of the English language will most likely not appreciate you. Look beyond the photo and find someone who actually “matches” you.

Chapter 8: Picture Perfect Pollyanna: Do you really think that an attractive intelligent girl will respond to someone without a picture even if you are able to convince her that you are not married or cheating on a girlfriend and are a Patrick Dempsey look-alike? Don’t give us the line that you cannot have a picture because of your profession. Unless you are a priest, we aren’t buying it. We will think you are cheating, embarrassed to be online and are a slave to “what people may think” aka confidence lacking COWARD. We don’t like cowards without confidence.

Chapter 9: Go Fish: Desperation is not attractive. If you get the email saying No Thanks or worse if you are completely ignored, then 100 emails in which you alternately spew hateful venom and beg for a date are not going to change anyone’s mind. Trust me, if we like you, we will answer your wink or note. Guys even check out the “Who’s Viewed Me” list and pursue from there if they are interested. It’s like searching for the right card. If you ask “do you want to meet?” and you don’t get a “yes”, then GO FISH – you may draw the right card next time! There are plenty of fish in the sea, remember?

Chapter 10: Do the Math: Pushing = Overcommitting + Cancelling. I have always overcommitted. I promise to do more than I possibly can and my intentions are usually good as they pave the way to dating hell. My friends are uber understanding and accepting when I have to change plans, postpone or not show for a commitment. When someone online in whom I may be interested pushes me for a date, I will typically set one up and then most likely cancel. I have honestly cancelled more dates than I have attended. Yikes. What is a girl to do? Go? Yes, Go!

Winking at You…Girl Goes On!

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