love.com

Poker Face

PROFILE  Garth67 Wanted: Romantic partner in crime! Active within 24 hours 36-year-old man Albuquerque, NM  United States Seeking women 33-45 Within 100 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: No but it’s OK if my partner has kids Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: Stocky Height: 6’3” Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Blue Smoke: No way Drink: Regularly Education Level:  Bachelor’s degree My Job: Self employed/entrepreneur Interests: Music/videos, fine dining, playing cards, jeeping, poker, nightclubs/dancing, sports betting, music & videos, science & technology

 

Jenny and I decided to call him “Girth” for very good reason. In this PG forum, let’s just say he was well-endowed. In fact, we called him Girth so often in our conversations about him, that I began to worry that I’d slip up and mistakenly say, “How are you Girth?” instead of Garth when I talked to him.

The first thing I liked about him, though (being of course unable to check out his package during a first date encounter), was his taste in music.

“What type of music do you usually listen to?” Garth asked as he met me back in the casino lounge where I was listening to the band playing. He had been playing cards and had suggested that I go there to wait for him.

I’m such a music nerd. I never answer this question by telling potential mates that I have seen REO Speedwagon in concert five times. “I’m eclectic in my music tastes. I listen to a little bit of everything. You?”

“I like a lot of the 80s stuff.” He was a music nerd too!

The second thing was the “Buckle the Seatbelt” trick.

We were getting ready to leave the casino, and he walked me out to my car. When I got into my car, he leaned over me and buckled my seatbelt gently in one of the most endearing, protective gestures I had ever seen on a first date.

So he had three big positives. One really, really big one.

But…remember the casino?

He told me during our first date that the reason his ex-wife left him was because she thought he had a problem with gambling.

You might be telling yourself that I should have been alarmed since he planned this first date at a casino, but alas, I was blinded by the seatbelt trick (and did I mention he liked Van Halen—and none of that Sammy Hagar stuff either). He said he’d had a thing for teachers ever since Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” song—see below.

Then, a few dates later we were at his house. He was in the shower and the phone rang. I hate a ringing phone, so I picked it up.

“Is Garth Turnell in?” asked the voice who I thought I recognized as Tony Soprano.

“Um, no, well he’s in the shower.”

“I’ll wait,” Tony said.

“It might be a few minutes. I can definitely have him call you,” I said.

“I can definitely wait.”

Alrighty then. I set the phone down and went in to the bathroom. “There’s some guy on the phone who sounds like Tony Soprano. I tried to take a message and I told him you were in the shower, but he said he would wait.”

Girth ripped open the shower curtain violently. “You what?! Why did you answer my phone?”

I was confused and hurt. “Because it was ringing. I didn’t know it was a big deal. I’m so sorry.”

“Well it IS a big deal.” He grabbed a towel off of the towel bar and wrapped it around his waist, striding over to the phone.

“Hello?” he said morosely, as he picked up the receiver off of the bed.

“Yes, Billy, I understand that.” I guess it wasn’t Tony Soprano after all. Whatever the case, Girth did not sound too happy to be talking to him.

He rolled his eyes at me. “I know I said I was out of town, and I was but I just got back. Yes I know I need to get that payment to you. Yes . . “

“I am aware of that.” His voice was high and tight. He looked around the room.

“I am aware of that too.”

“Yes Billy, I will. By Friday. Goodbye.” He put his head in his hands.

I had seen—and heard—enough by then to figure that Girth was in way over his heads; substantial though they both were. Anyway, music nerd + romantic seatbelt buckling trick + large wedding tackle does not compensate for potential kneecap-breaking gambling debts to The Sopranos.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Ten Ways to End a Date: Guest Blogger Leah

As you probably know, I have a daughter. She has played a pivotal role in my dating—both in making it happen and in making it NOT happen. She very much wants me to be in a relationship and wants a new Dad, but she rarely likes the men I date.

Many single moms I know report similar problems. They have a hard time dating because of their offspring. I don’t mean the logistical concerns, either (even though those are sometimes great—see an example here). What I mean is the barriers and difficulties the children put up because of their jealousy, insecurity, and feelings of potential abandonment. And, in some cases, they may just know they guy is a dud. So following is Leah’s guest blogger post with her advice on ending a date . . . from the kid’s perspective. FYI: This is in her words, so cut her some slack!

Leah’s Advice for Ending a Date

1. Be mean (make sure both your mother and the date know you are NOT happy to be there-say things like, “When are we leaving? I’m tired. I’m bored.” If all else fails, try faking sick.)
2. Be obnoxious (throw fits in restaurants and cling on to your mother at every opportunity; get in between the man and your mom)
3. Be annoying (try spilling your drink and definitely don’t like the food; you could try using bad table manners like chewing with your mouth open and slurping but I’ve never tried this but here are some ideas; interrupt a lot and pat your mom’s hand; repeating “Mommy, mommy, mommy” is very annoying.)
4. The name of the game is “Be the Center of Attention.” Do not let the conversation revolve around anyone else but you. Talk about yourself constantly whether it’s dolls or cheerleading. If they start to talk about something boring (jobs, football, weird hobbies, really anything that isn’t about YOU) jump in.
5. It is out of the question for him to touch your mom for any reason. Even if she is choking. He is the enemy and must die.
6. Sometimes, the man may really be a sicko, a hobo, or a dork. If you notice that, try telling your mom. She might not listen at first because she’ll think you’re just being selfish. You can point out all of the weird things he does and roll your eyes a lot and try “huffing” your breath out really loudly. One guy showed us a video of his dog playing in the park while we were eating dinner. That was a lot of eye rolling and huffing. If that doesn’t work, do the things above. Sometimes moms are a little slow.
   (These next few are for when your mom tries to leave you with a sitter:)
7. Cry and scream if they try to leave you at home.
8. Once you can use a phone or even better you have your own cell phone, you have much more power. Call your mom a bunch of times. Say, “I just wanted to tell you I love you.” They like that. They already feel guilty for leaving you at home.
9. Call to ask questions you already know the answer to like:  “When will you be home? How long do I heat up soup in the microwave? Do you like Jon and Kate Plus Eight?”
10. The last one is only for when you’re desperate. Call grandma. She will make your mom feel way more guilty than you can.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Oxygen Mask: Online Dating Saved My Life

I’ve been thinking a lot about why I decided to “try” Internet dating in the first place. Why not blind dates or want ads or a root canal?

Partly, it’s my best friend Arianna’s fault. She was the one back in 2000 who signed me up for Match.com. Ari was one of my best friends from college. She is now a balls-to-the-wall entertainment lawyer. We are getting older but her boyfriends keep getting younger. Her concern was that I might become some dried up prune of a cat lady. Maybe she regrets it now.

It could also be the fault of the inventors of the Internet, though it’s a little unclear who that is (according to snopes, Al Gore didn’t make the claim). It might even be argued that, without the Internet, I’d be on date number 30 or 40 instead of over 250.

What I know for sure is what my mom said when I first told her about my online dating those many years ago.

    ***

“I hear you’re going to do some dates on the computer.” I could hear her smiling.

Nothing goes uncommunicated in my family--well nothing like that. If I were to fall and break my leg, I could expect the entire web of my family to be notified within seventeen seconds—cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents--the whole kit and caboodle. Then I could expect a complicated system of visitations and casseroles to be arranged for the next two weeks. So I wasn’t surprised that she was already in the loop about my dating, even though no dates had even taken place.

“Yes,” I said hesitantly not knowing how she was going to react to this. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, here’s what I think. You were married to a man who treated you pretty darn bad for a long time. You have been living for Leah these past two years and doing a good job of it. But there’s a reason on airplanes that they tell you to put on the oxygen mask first ‘fore you put it on your child if it drops down. It’s so you can save both of you. So go ahead and put that oxygen mask on!”

   ***

I have had an awful lot of dates, it’s true. Not all of them have been great. In fact, some have been really horrid. I’m thankful, though, for each and every one because they all taught me important lessons that I needed to learn for myself and for my daughter.

It taught me:
+to be more assertive
+that I deserved to be picky
+to stand up for myself when accusations were wrong (I was faced with pornography charges after a stalker-date posted naked pictures on the Internet and almost lost my job)
+that being intelligent was not the same thing as having common sense
+if you don’t feel a connection within three hours of a first date, you’ll never feel it
+people lie on the Internet; verify
+sometimes all you can do is just keep getting off the couch (and try again)
+that being a single means you never get a break; just deal with it
+religion is a very touchy business and it’s run by people who are flawed (I was fired from a Christian school for premarital sex)
+my family may be a little nuts, but they’re the only one I have—men will come and go
+my daughter and I do a surprisingly good job all by ourselves  

Internet dating destroyed me in many ways, but it also saved my life.

Today, as I remember my mom (she died two years ago) who never got to see me truly happy, I am thankful that I no longer need an oxygen mask. I hope wherever she is that oxygen masks, figurative or literal, are not required.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

In Favor of a Higher Body Mass Index

Yesterday, I sat next to a Nordstrom’s model on the way back from New York City. It was hot on the airplane so I turned the little overhead vent on. She then proceeded to shiver uncontrollably during the entire flight back to Seattle. I so wanted to tell her that maybe the reason for her discomfort was the fact that she had absolutely no body fat. Eat a sandwich. You'll feel better.

But I didn’t. I posted it on my Facebook page instead because I’m a big (fat) coward.  What I found was that the times they are a-changin’. In a show of solidarity, many people agreed and posted their comments as well. So below I have some reasons for a higher Body Mass Index.

1.  Four out of four men on Facebook prefer women with curves (OK so it was a VERY unscientific survey and only consisted of people who responded to the comment I had already made about the emaciated model PLUS they were pre-selected by being my friends but still math is math).

2.  It’s also a scientific fact (I Wikipediad it so it must be true) that fat people float better than skinny people. So do you think me or this girl has a better chance of surviving if our boat goes down in the middle of the ocean? You have to guard against these possibilities—especially if you live on the water. Even if you don’t, you could go on a cruise.

 

3.  Ask yourself, which girl would you rather have with you on a shopping trip? She’s not going to be any help with those heavy bags or angry crowds. How about babysitting assistance? I can’t quite picture her lugging a couple of preschoolers to Playland at McDonald’s. And, seriously, if you’re stranded in the wilderness all Alive style, and you have to start eating people in order to survive—which one of us would you pick?

4.  Blurtit says that skinny people have a more difficult time maintaining body temperature. The thinner you are, it goes on to say, the more often you will get cold and the more intense the lower temperatures feel. I bet this lady would wear a jacket in the Gobi Desert!

5.  Finally, The Huffington Post reported during the recent San Paulo Fashion Week that there was concern over too-thin models. The administrators were considering putting restrictions and regulations in place to prevent this in the future. Even the modeling industry thinks that we’ve come too far.

I do believe it is changing, and it starts with our attitudes; that this is not all right or acceptable for us as women or a society. We don’t want that for ourselves, and we certainly don’t want it for our daughters. Instead, like my friend Steve Duno said, I should have told the lady on the plane to get a Katz deli pastrami sandwich and quit the whining.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Rationalizing at Tiffany’s

“Well when I get (the mean reds) the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany’s. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then—I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name!” Holly Golightly played by Audrey Hepburn

I was shopping recently with a girl friend—Cute, Smart, Available—who had a gift certificate for Tiffany’s. We stopped by the famous jewelry store to see what she could spend the $50 certificate on.

First, as film references go, if you’ve never seen "Breakfast at Tiffany's", and watched the classy Audrey Hepburn window shop at Tiffany’s while eating a pastry out of a paper bag, you should immediately curse your lack of cultural archetypal knowledge and go rent the movie. I can’t adequately communicate light reflecting off sparkling facets of diamonds in the highly-polished glass window. Audrey longs for what’s inside as much as what it represents.

The solace found in Tiffany’s bejeweled offerings isn’t cheap, however. My friend (CSA) and I—assisted by an overly helpful and extremely efficient saleslady—soon found that her gift certificate would not go very far in the store.

This is where I come in. I am one of the best rationalizers (definition: one who rationalizes) I know. If I want something (or I see that someone else wants something but they haven’t crossed the line to convincing themselves), I will find a way to make it obvious that not only is it the best solution, but that it is the most ethical, humane, fiscally-sound, environmentally-conscious solution as well.

When CSA despaired at Tiffany’s and made sounds like she was going to leave, I could not let that happen. I summoned my powers.

“Ok, so someone gave you this gift certificate, right?” I knew she wanted to feel that Tiffany’s magic, but she needed to justify it.

CSA looked at me somewhat hesitantly. She knows I can be convincing. I’d already helped her justify valet parking at the mall and having someone wash her car while we shopped.  “Yeeessss.”

“Well, if someone gives you a gift then it is rude and selfish not to enjoy it right?”

“Right?” CSA answers my question with a question as the hovering saleslady eavesdrops nearby.

“In fact, if you don’t use this gift certificate, it would be just like throwing away a present someone hand-made for you, and you wouldn’t do that.” I know she would never hurt anyone’s feelings in such a thoughtless manner.

I see her eyes dart to a display of sterling silver bracelets that we’d already looked at. “But there’s nothing in here that even comes close to the price range.” The helpful saleslady has unobtrusively taken the bracelets out of the case.  OOOHH…she is perceptive.

“I know, so in order to use this gift and do the right thing, you may have to supplement it a little but think of it this way—it’s your responsibility as a friend. Not only that, it’s an heirloom piece. Just look at it! It’s practically an investment opportunity.” I gesture to the bracelets while the nice lady begins removing them from their velvet cocoons.

Her eyes shine as she fingers one of the bracelets and (I assume) imagines herself walking into a room sporting this trinket that so obviously came from such a high-end store.

CSA addresses the store employee, “Can you size them?”

“Of course and we’ll ship it directly to your house.”

“I don’t know . . .” she wavers.

I’ll have to up my game. I’ve used some guilt and fiduciary responsibility, but what about self esteem and the mother of all rationalizers, love?

“Also, you deserve the best. You’re the only YOU there is, and if you don’t treat you well, no one will.”

CSA and the saleslady are both nodding their heads vehemently.

“And think what a conversation piece this will be. People might ask where you got it. Heck, men might even ask you out.”

“I’ll take it.”

CSA and the bracelet picked me up for coffee last week. I’m pleased to report that both girl and accessory are doing well and are very, very happy.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

The Kevin Awards for Worst Online Dates

Over the years I’ve spent dating online, I’ve met many people with lots of horrifying Internet dating experiences. Now that I’m writing a book about learning from my dating disasters, people write and tell me their own all of the time. 

It isn’t just middle-aged heterosexual women, either, who share in these woes. The stories run the demographic gamut from young to old, gay to straight, and male to female. 

I find solace in the company of sharing. It’s a support group for cyber love gone wrong, but it’s also comforting to know that your encounter with the guy who had a snake in his closet and lived with his mother wasn’t as bad as someone else’s latest dating catastrophe.

So I was thinking there ought to be an awards show for the worst Internet dates; like the Tonys or the Oscars. I decided to start one. I’m calling the award “The Kevin” because some of my worst dating ordeals have been with men named Kevin. I apologize in advance if you are named Kevin (and I know some nice Kevins too, but I’ve never dated them) and you do not have any weird sexual fetishes, sleep in your van, or attack women in deserted parks necessitating the use of pepper spray. It can’t be helped. Maybe guys named Oscar don’t like their name being attached to a gold statue that looks like a comic book character, but that’s just the way it is.

Presenting the Kevin Award this year will be golf pro Tiger Woods.  He’s won fourteen major golf championships, but that’s not the reason we’ve asked him to be here tonight. His many torrid affairs have scandalized the nation, so we’re excited to have him presenting this year’s award.

Tiger: There are a lot of great finalists for the Kevin Award this year. It was a tough competition. I wish they would have let me compete.

(Uneasy laughter from audience)

Tiger:  And the finalists for this year’s awards are (names have been changed of course):

Krissie’s date who showed her hundreds of pictures of his ex-wife during dinner. Some of them were nude.

Justin’s date who came over for dinner at Justin’s house. About an hour later, the doorbell rang, and it was another man. Justin’s date had invited the third man for a “threesome.”

Deborah’s date who “took her” on a ski weekend and then expected her to pay for the lift tickets, hotel room, and ski lessons.  Then he left her for the entire weekend while he went skiing alone.

LeeAnn’s date (she is a lesbian) who spent the whole dinner at the restaurant doing her nails.

Angelo’s date who took off her wig in the middle of their night at the movies.

And Trini’s date who brushed his teeth with rotten butter so, not only were his teeth falling out, but he had breath that could stop a semi.

(Gasping from audience)

Tiger:  But the winner is…Janet’s date! Poor Janet is a flight attendant in her 50s. She corresponded with the man online before finally meeting him in person. Of course, she had followed all of Tiia’s rules and had seen a picture. Unfortunately for her, when they met for dinner she discovered he was a paraplegic and was paralyzed from the waist down; a fact which he had forgotten to mention in their frequent email exchanges.

(Audience goes crazy with cheering. Janet’s date is wheeled up on stage doing fist pumps and shooting mock guns with his thumb and forefinger then blowing on them.)

I just don’t know what kind of statue we should give.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

 

love.com: The Garter Belt Incident

PROFILE  RedSoxFan There’s no crying in love or baseball Active within 2 days 39-year-old man Rio Rancho, NM  United States Seeking women 30-45 Within 30 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: Definitely Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: Stocky Height: 5’11” Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Smoke: Never Drink: Social drinker Education Level:  Bachelor’s degree My Job: Civil service Interests: Watching sports, baseball, playing sports, video games, music & videos, computers & technology, hiking, networking, Victoria’s Secret (LOL)

Dating Rules Broken by RedSoxFan During First Date:
1. Chewed with mouth open
2. Did not open door for me
3. Only talked about himself (Well, this is not entirely true.  Actually, he only talked about the Boston Red Sox.  They play baseball, in case you were wondering because I was a little unclear.)
4. Displayed stalker tendencies
5. Heebie Jeebie Meter was set off by a weird desire for women’s lingerie

With this kind of batting average, you’d think I forfeited or put him in the penalty box—I think that’s actually a hockey reference but my sports metaphors are a little weak—but the truth is my dating had hit a bit of a dry spell.  More like what my old rancher friend Lou Dodo (real name, there’s nothing I could make up that would be funnier, right?) used to say about farming in Western Colorado:  “It’s a drought.  It’s always a drought.  Even when we get a little rain; it’s still a drought.”

So I was willing to let a few things slide.  Ok, maybe a lot of things.  Even when he said he really wanted me to wear a garter belt and stockings for our second date.

Pre-Game Show for RedSoxFan

• Go to Victoria’s Secret to buy garter belt, panties, and stockings.  Fall over dead when they tell me the price is slightly less than my utility bill.
• Look at contraption.  It looks a little like something I’d wear for “Crazy Hat Day” at school or maybe something you’d use to muzzle a dog.  But that’s ok, because I’m tenacious.  And it’s a drought.
• Put garter belt on…upside down.
• Realize that the hookey onny thingys need to be pointing down not up and turn it the other way around.
• Slide stockings on, snagging one with fingernail.
• Get out nail polish to fix run.  Finding only red, which may ruin the smoldering sexy look I’m going for, I ask my  eight year-old for her Bonne Bell clear nail polish.
• Paint on.  Bend in half and blow on leg to dry.  Leah says, “Why are you kissing your leg, Momma.”  Don’t answer that.
• Pour glass of wine for fortification and hydration since by now I’ve worked up a sweat.
• Attempt to fasten hookey onny thingys to stockings.  It is not at all obvious how to do this.  There are no marks (connect hook A to point B on stocking) and it is more difficult than IKEA furniture.
• Upon further examination, it appears that the two pairs of hooks should be positioned opposite one another on either side of each leg.  This requires bending like a circus contortionist.
• When I finally get first pair of hooks on one stocking, I pass out from being upside-down for so long.
• Upon regaining consciousness, I refill my wine glass because I pretty much just completed a Pilates workout.
• Get VS package out of trash and consult to see if there are helpful hints because surely I’m doing something wrong.  There aren’t.
• Consult clock.  I am already one hour late for date but damn it I will be wearing hot black garters.
• Finish second pair of hookey onny thingys on one leg.
• Leah: “Mom, is that gymnastics?”
• Take deep breaths to avoid passing out again.
• Put on second stocking, and begin attaching hooks on left leg.  In the middle of the first set of hooks, the hook snags the stocking all the way up making it completely unwearable.
• Pour another glass of wine.
• Call to cancel date.  Strike three, you’re out.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Is That a Kiwi in Your Purse, or Are You Just Glad to See Me?

Recently, Dating Diva blogged about how her keys had become symbolic of her emotional baggage.  She needed to shed some of it to move on with her life.

It got me to thinking.

I don’t have so many keys really, but my purse is another story.  I asked my friends on Facebook for their input about the strangest things they’ve ever found in their purses.  I was amazed at the responses.  People have found:

• needle nosed pliers
• corkscrew
• eight track tape
• pampers (I’m assuming fresh)
• stun gun
• large spider in a jar
• clean socks
• razor
• cat food
• “part” of a condom (I don’t even want to know)
• Tabasco
• hard boiled, dyed Easter egg
• chocolate Santa Claus (holiday theme, but not from the same person)
• handcuffs (I didn’t ask, but she might want to meet up the man with the dungeon)
• kiwi (that was mine)

I think we hold onto these things because we are afraid to throw them away.  We might need them someday.  We’re reluctant to get rid of them on the off chance that they might be the one thing that will come in handy.  You never know when someone is going to have an eight track tape player, but when they do, you’ll be ready.

We do the same thing with our dating profile parameters.  We are afraid to ask for what we really want because we might eliminate the one person we think is out there for us and send them galloping off on their cyber white horse.  But really, it’s empowering to be picky.

You want someone who hasn’t been married?  Got it.  Someone with a college degree?  Done.  Someone who reads comic books, plays putt putt, and listens to Norah Jones?  He’s out there.  He’s not on my list, but he might be perfect for you.

I’ve said it before, but it’s a lot like searching for a job.  When you start looking for a job, you don’t begin by looking at every listing for which you might have the minimum qualifications.  Instead, you start by looking at the ones that pay the best, suit your qualifications and work experience, have the best free coffee, etc.  If you are an accountant, you don’t start by looking at the ads for all night clerks at 7/11.

When I started Internet dating, I should have been very specific in choosing exactly what I liked and wanted and needed from a date.

Unfortunately, instead of going with the best of the best, the cream of the crop, and then if I didn’t find anyone, lowering the bar, I cast a wide net desperately to see what I could find. This wasn’t how I hunted for jobs, but in the beginning it was how I hunted for online dates. 

I was afraid to get rid of the stuff in my purse; to eliminate people.  I might need them someday.  That guy with the three felony convictions might not be so bad, right, and who was I to judge? 

The truth is, though, you won’t ever need that Tabasco OR those socks that are in your purse.  And you definitely won’t need the kiwi (which turned into a disgusting lump of brown mush that I stuck my hand into one day during class).  Throw them out. 

Then we might be able to find the one we really deserve.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones