Sunday, March 30, 2008

What Do We Do?

Within the last couple of days, at least three women friends have expressed their dating frustrations.



"What are we doing wrong?" they ask. A question I ask myself regularly.



Upon reflection and discussion with other single (and fabulous) women, clearly we aren't doing anything wrong. It's my theory that women have evolved into these even more amazing creatures over the last few decades and men, frankly, aren't sure what to make of us.



Women have become more independent than ever, earning good salaries, obtaining PhD's, owing their own homes, nice cars (okay, so maybe this woman doesn't fit any of the posted criteria...but many do!). We'll dine alone, travel solo, do our own home repairs (our hire someone to do them for us). For the most part we're physically fit, financially fit, and fairly successful. I think men could be just slightly intimidate. Okay, so no man is intimidated by my "financial fitness"-- of course not. Rather, my financial situation has men running in the opposite direction. But I'm not just talking about ME here. I'm talking about single women as a whole.



A couple years ago, the fireman I was dating said to me during one of our final conversations, "men just want to be needed." Aahhh, I wasn't providing this guy with the opportunity to be my "hero." Clearly, given his profession, that was an important role for him to play in his relationships with women, as well as, his work. I was not the girl for him.



Number Eight's ex-wife turned out to be clinically diagnosed with a mental disorder. She refused to get help and he tried to work with it for seven years before giving up and filing for divorce. He then told me his last serious girlfriend, for whom he had been shopping for rings, also had a problem with depression. One of his closest female friends, is an alcoholic and until recently was without any positive direction. Apparently, he has an attraction to women with emotional/mental disorders who he might be able to 'help'? Being pretty emotionally balanced and happy (I know I know, sometimes you'd wonder) I am, again, not that girl.



A discussion with one of my single pals over cocktails the other night revealed that it wasn't enough for men to just be "wanted" by women. By only being wanted and not actually needed, there's too great a risk of being "unwanted" one day. We may decide to just discard them like a pair of outdated shoes or a dress that no longer fits like it used to. The "need" factor guarantees you'll stick around. You need his money, his house, his 'handyman' abilities. Something to keep him in control of the relationship. Within my circle of friends, no one has such a need. Other than the physical need, women just don't need men in the same way that we used to. We're really just looking for someone we want, who wants us in return.



Unfortunately, all this need vs want business is causing men to become more confused and then their resulting behavior becomes confusing to women. It's a vicious cycle. I, for one, do not intend to pose as a weak, needy damsel (alright, technically I'm too old to be a 'damsel') in distress. And I don't know any woman who does.



So what's the answer to the "What are we doing wrong?" question? Nothing. Just keep doing what we're doing and have fun doing it! The right guy will trip along eventually. I'm pretty sure of it.



end note: There isn't anything wrong with "needing" someone, by the way.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

What's Behind Door #?

They say when one door closes, another one opens. I hope that is true as door #8 is being shut in my face.

I swear the last three guys I dated did the "just stop calling" routine. WTF? Why is that acceptable after dating several months? It's acceptable after one or two dates, sure. But five months? Not acceptable grown up behavior. I suppose that is the only way men feel they can get rid of me. I am not a fighter, so there is no chance of an argument ensuing where we can have a break up with exchange of heated words and insults. Confrontation is difficult so actually saying to my face that we need to wrap this up just isn't an option apparently. So if they just stop calling, they can hope I'll eventually get the hint and leave them alone.

I do have a great life...wonderful friends and can do pretty much what I please without answering to anyone. Why can't that be fulfilling enough? Why must I need the physical affection from a man thing? Well, cause that's how nature made us I guess. There's really only so much you can get from a battery operated toy. sigh.

In the April edition of "SeattleWoman" magazine, there is an article about girlfriend getaways. For the past five years that is all I've had -- girlfriend getaways (besides the mini-weekend to Whidbey Island in December with #8- which was wonderful, by the way). Getting away with my girlfriends is most definitely one of my favorite things to do. Frankly, however, I'm ready to spend some time having an actual romance in all the romantic places I've been the last five years.

Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed every minute of Paris, Venice, Prague, the Greek Islands, beaches along the Adriatic and Mediterranean Seas, the Caribbean, and Mexico. These places are spectacular no matter what. And there is nothing less romantic than being in a romantic place with the wrong man. I've experienced that scenario as well.

So #8 got me through the winter months, I suppose, and spring is about here. And I'll see what's behind the next door and plan a trip...with or without anyone else, man or woman.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Small Changes

If I can't make any huge life changes just yet, maybe several simple small changes will satisfy my urges. The other day I was getting ready to meet a friend for a drink when I discovered some old navel rings I had. I hadn't changed my ring in months, maybe even over a year. You get the thing. It's all exciting. Soon (12 years later) it gets buried in there somewhere and you forget you even have it. I decide that needs to be done. Now! So off with the current one. Easy enough. And on with the new installation. Not so quick and easy.

I hadn't done it for a while and was struggling frantically working myself up into a lather. You know how tiny those balls are and then trying to get it exactly centered onto the post and screwed in! My nails, which are on the longish side, kept getting in the way. I was also working against my belly fat and I couldn't see very well over my boobs !!! Ugh...my friend was on her way over and would arrive any minute. The more I tried to hurry the worse the situation became. Why did I have to get into this little project just now? Not as if I'm heading out on the town in a mid-drift top or bikini for crying out loud. I was afraid I was going to have to ask her to be a pal and do it for me! Cripes. Just what I want, my skinny little friend digging around my gut attempting navel ring installation. The scene in my head made me more determined to get the bloody thing screwed in! I finally got it in by lying on the bed and stretching myself all out, but was all exhausted and sweaty from the process!

When I was done, I took a look in the mirror. Hmmm...I don't like this one so much, which is why I hadn't worn it for some time. It'll have to stay put for a while. I'm not up for the challenge of changing it again just yet. Small changes one small step at a time.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Going Nowhere for the Moment

Does anyone else dwell on their lifestyle, career, and love life (or lack thereof) as much as I do? I doubt it. I wonder why I am still living in Seattle when I continue to say I want to leave and live somewhere else? What is keeping me here?

I am in an ongoing go nowhere type of relationship that is on the down slide as I think my ongoing go nowhere #8 is getting bored with me and my constant desire for sex (imagine that?). I'm a bit bummed as it's been nice to just date someone semi-regularly for awhile. But how long is an ongoing go nowhere relationship suppose to last anyway? It's got to end eventually I guess.

I do have my eye on a cutie pie waiter at a place my boss and I go to lunch occasionally. He's probably all of 25. Why would anyone older be a lunch waiter at a place called Fat Albert's? Unless, he's really a former IT professional and, like myself, is in his mid-life transitional phase and is actually an aspiring artist waiting for his big break. I can buy that.

I'm in a go nowhere low paying job. The work is interesting (programing and development of inter-cultural educational and training projects), but I can see in just five months it's fairly repetitive with little opportunity for...well...any real opportunities. It just isn't providing what I was hoping in the way of either travel or training ops. The organization is so small that neither pay nor benefits are available either. I've been keeping my eye out, but will have to begin a more active pursuit for career change.

My lifestyle. I am fairly successful at getting around Seattle sans car, but some days are frustrating, trudging around in the pissing rain, missing buses by nanoseconds, and getting out of town is impossible. The last two charming little bungalows in lower Queen Anne were leveled recently and a new condo will be constructed - directly outside my balcony. I LOVE sitting out on my balcony during the summer enjoying the sunshine, view and quiet. Hmmm....the rent just went up and so will the noise and dust factor.

Now, although my whining seems to never cease, I do, in fact, try to live for the moment. If anyone could have seen the view of the skyline last night from my living room window they would probably understand why I'm still here. The huge golden (almost full) moon rose up behind the Space Needle providing a scene that was surreal. I couldn't take my eyes off of it for the longest time. I wanted to call someone to share the moment. But there was no one to call. So I just shared it with myself...and enjoyed every minute of it.

Monday, March 17, 2008

To Cruise or Not to Cruise?

Of course the cruise was a luxurious pampering experience fully equipped with all the excess imaginable. A room steward who was lurking nearby for even the slightest need, bar service at your every turn, enough food to feed the entire world...twice, every kind of entertainment, service and even perfect weather. Would I do it again? Sure...eventually...and if someone else was paying for it, definitely. Although I loved spending a week in the tropics with fun women friends, and relaxing on a sun lounger imbibing on a fruity cocktail with umbrella decor, my opinion remains the same about cruising. It's really not my favorite form of vacationing.

The food was as incredible as I feared. I started out slow, making wiser food choices eating salads and fresh fruit as much as possible. At dinner (the formal affairs) I only had the 'spa' (healthy choice) starter of iceberg wedge and tomato, an entree of grilled perch, one glass of red wine and coffee for dessert (that right there is far more than my normal dinner at home). I then upped the anty to the regular starter, a 'spa' starter, entree, wine, 'diet' dessert and coffee. It wasn't long before I'd deteriorated to two regular starters, skipped the salad altogether, an entree, the warm melting chocolate cake for dessert (nothing diet about it!), coffee and had to follow it up with a Sambucca aperitif because my stomach was so uncomfortable! Each day I'd consider skipping that meal, but it would have been in bad form. I mean, we paid for it, the girls expected my attendance and it was all part of the 'fun.' By day five I spent the entire night in the head suffering diarrhea and keeping my cabin mate up as well.

The ports of call were interesting and fun, but of course you don't spend enough time there and the time you do spend is focused on the clock so you're sure to get back to the ship in time! I don't do so well on such a strict schedule. It was a good thing I was there with four other women who wore watches. Otherwise, I'd be writing this blog from somewhere in the Western Caribbean...which wouldn't be such a bad thing. I especially fell in love with Roatan Island, Honduras and a trip back there is in my future. We all agreed on that point.

The ship service was exceptional. Although I couldn't help but have a little bit of a sickening feeling at how hard the staff (mostly from developing countries) work for what I'm sure is very little money. The double shifts, the always being "on", the constant "it's my pleasure" (as they are wiping your butt). I don't know where the cabin steward hides in order to see every time you leave your room, but you could be gone for 30 seconds only to realize you'd forgotten something in your cabin and viola, he'd been there, picked up, changed your towel for the third time that day, put that pointy end on the toilet paper AND the tissue, straightened the chairs on the balcony and left. I never once actually caught him inside the room doing anything. There were just these magical signs that he'd been there. I'd even leave my towel on the rack indicating I'd reuse it (you know, 'green' me likes to pay attention to the environment) and he'd change it anyway. Apparently, he decided it smelled too funky to reuse and I needed a fresh one.

Although the entertainment might not have been overly appealing to our group, I really have no complaints. There were after dinner shows nightly (comedian, Happy Cole, is a must see), a casino, several bars with live music, a dance club, a few shops and even the hot tub on the upper deck til midnight. And if none of that was suitable, there was always the option of wine on our balconies to enjoy while watching the moon reflect off the sea.

Yes, all in all it was a great time. Even though it might not be my favorite form of holiday, I'm glad I was able to muster up the dough and experience the world of cruising and especially spend a week playing with the girls and exploring some of the most fabulous beaches. And now, of course, it's time for the detox cause this bloated feeling ain't just water weight!

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Charmed by Canadian

During the first leg of my flight eastward, I sat next to a Canadian fella. As usually happens when you're practically sitting on some one's lap for several hours, we got to chatting. What's in L.A. for you? Where you coming from? Etc. My flight mate was going Guadalajara, Mexico surfing. He proceeded, then, for the remainder of the flight and for the 2 hours I had during my layover in L.A., to dis America and Americans.

It started out innocently enough. He pointed out that Americans are not well-received when traveling and often pose as Canadians. Yes, this is a true statement in many cases. But I assured him that during my three and a half years of living abroad I was never received with any animosity or aggression due to my U.S. citizenship. As a matter of fact, most people were polite, respectful and helpful...even after making it clear that they were not a fan of our "Chief."

Next he launched into a tirade (that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much) about how American surfers where not welcome in their waters. There is surfer protocol and they will drive them out physically. Wow. Sounds pretty serious.

The subject then came to the almighty American dollar...and oh, how disgusting it is that we have so many of them and can go up to Canada and buy up their property with cash! An American, apparently, pulled up in his yacht and bought this guy's house on the beach with cash! We have far too much money to be waiving in these poor Canadians' faces.

Over the course of the night I had learned that this guy was 29, lived and/or traveled all over the world, owns a house on the beach north of Vancouver, B.C., owns a Land rover, a Quad, two motorcycles, a boat, and a snowmobile. I swear if I had asked him if he owned a helicopter he would have told me he had one in storage and one on the roof of his house or something! And he's holding a grudge about American excess? He is the proprietor of Action Jackson Productions where he drives stunt vehicles, mostly for commercials. I thought that sounded like interesting and exciting work. He made it clear that it doesn't pay as much as one would think. Whatever. I was quite honestly pretty exhausted talking to the guy about his toys and money by this point.

Before we were through he shared with me that the Canadian firefighters use American firefighter videos to train them on what NOT to do, Americans have the highest suicide rate in the world, and some other nasty statistic that I can't even remember because this guy was beginning to get on my nerves by now.

I'm not exactly overly patriotic at times. I get very disgusted by our government, our role in global welfare and our wasteful society just to name a few. But listening to this guy...this guy from a comparably wealthy country, from an affluent background, pick and poke and criticize, made me a bit defensive. We aren't all that bad. And we aren't all that bad. It's like picking on my brother. It's okay if I make fun of him, but as soon as someone else chimes in, I run to his aide. I wanted to say "enough already, dude. Give it a rest." Instead, in an effort to keep peace with my neighbor from the north with the prominent chip on his shoulder, I smiled and said "enjoy your surfing trip" and walked to my gate.

Our country definitely has problems. We are aware. But whose doesn't. Does anyone ever say "ours is the most perfect government in the world" or better yet "that country has the best government, let's be like them?" Never. We are also trying to change things with this next election. Can we? (Okay, I am not going to quote Obama here!) Who knows. But hopefully we can make improvements.

I didn't talk at all to the man sitting next to me on the next leg of my journey. I said hello, got out my blanket, took off my sandals and slept.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Acceptance

After doing some invigorating shoe (sandal) shopping on Saturday, I needed to use the 'ladies' so went upstairs to the lounge at Macy's. On the way out, I saw the sign pointing to the swim suit section. "Oh why not," I asked myself. It'd be nice to have a new cute swim suit for my cruise.

I headed over and perused the racks carefully. Decided if I was going to make the effort of disrobing for one suit, I may as well make it worth while and try on several. Besides, my feet were killing me from my morning session and relaxing barefoot in the dressing room for a while sounded kind of appealing. Question: since when is trying on swim suits a 'relaxing' activity?

Inside the far too brightly lit dressing room I stripped down to my skivvies and applied the first ... well...bits of fabric. That's all a swim suit is: Two triangles strapped onto the breasts with a string and a pair of (usually ill-fitting) underwear. Looking at my body in the harsh lighting I was once again horrified, distraught and more than annoyed with what I saw in the three-way mirror; what I never seem to see in my dimly lit bedroom (I really ought to change my light bulbs, but I seem to prefer to live in denial.) -- cellulite I've always prided myself on not having much of, the tummy that won't flatten, the white sagging breasts that won't perk up no matter how tightly I tie the string around my neck. Instead of lifted breasts, I just get a raw red mark on the back of my neck as the boobs continue to head south with increased persistence.

I've been working out a lot more the past month, watching my diet for the most part, hadn't had a drop of alcohol in over a week (that's a mile stone for me), drinking herbal teas and water and this is the body I'm rewarded with?

I got dressed, put all seven suits back on their hangers and returned them to the racks. Why spend $100 on something that doesn't make me look or feel any better than the crap I already have in my drawers? I called a friend when I got home and relayed my swim suit saga to which she replied, "it's called acceptance."

She's right. Number Eight took me for a really nice meal at the Paragon that night where we shared a cheese plate, and salad, I indulged in a glass of wine, and we each ordered an entre. Sunday, I went to Pilate's and Eight and I walked to the beach through Discovery Park, so I attempted to combat some of the food damage. I can enjoy a nice meal and wine once in a while, eat healthfully overall, get daily exercise, and just wear a super cute cover up over my swim suit, and a pair of sexy sandals! That's acceptance.