20 SB BLog Swap #9 with a guest blog from Hazel Loves Design!

I have just finished speaking to my sister in Christchurch, where she is currently in bed with the snow building up outside, it is about two feet deep at the moment. Here in Melbourne it is only raining, so I should be grateful!

But I swear I am really, really looking forward to the summer. So while you lucky folk in the northern hemisphere are basking in the sun reflecting on the summer that has been we are dreaming of the summer to come.

Hello folks, I'm Hazel and I am visiting from Hazel Loves Design today Ruthy and I are swapping blogs and each sharing a piece on 'Summer'. So that brings me to today's post, it doesn't matter what part of the world you live in, whether you are gay or straight, single or married we all need to know about summer living essentials.

I have compiled my top ten favourite things to create a summer filled with fun and frivolity!

1. SUMMER FASHION; Let's be honest, who doesn't love loosing the countless the layers, the massive coats and slipping into a sexy summer dress and a pair of thongs! The best thing about summer dresses is that they come in all shapes and sizes, from the long and draping maxi dress, to the tight and short, (sometimes super short) body con dresses!

But they have one common denominator... COLOUR!!! I'm currently wearing head to toe black, and have been for months, I can't wait for December to come and I can pop on some colour.

2. GORGEOUS WEDGES; I love wearing thongs in the summer, when I was living in the warmer climate of the Gold Coast I had a pair in every colour!! But this year I am loving the trend of wedges, so I can't wait to rock out with a pair of wedges and a gorgeous pedicure...

3. A FRENCH PEDICURE; Slightly extravagant in this tough economic climate, but worth absolutely every penny! There is something about slipping on a pair of thongs (or this year wedges) with a gorgeous pedicure... LUST!

French Pedicure

I'm not one to wear a lot of makeup so for me dressing in something gorgeous is like putting on a face full of make up for other women. It makes me feel confident with myself. And you know what they say about confidence, if you feel confident, other people see it radiating from you and automatically are drawn to you.

Isn't that what summer is all about, dreaming about meeting the unknown, having lavish amounts of fun and feeling confident and gorgeous whilst doing so.

Now I know I'm writing on a blog about dating, but here is one small problem, I've been in a monogamous relationship since I was nineteen, I'm now twenty-seven and happily married. So I'm slightly out of touch with the dating scene.

But there is something I have learnt since I've grown older. You won't find the man of your dreams by searching for him, one day he will materialise out of no where!! So you need to look after YOU, make YOU feel beautiful, intelligent and worthy.

For the longest time I thought summer was all about THE TAN, it has taken me years of burning my skin trying to tan, to learn that my 'Princess Skin' (read white as a vampire) just won't tan so I have learnt to accept my pale skin.

This realisation has completely changed summer for me, instead of spending hours in tanning salons and applying the fake tan, I now appreciate the other parts of summer. And spend a lot more on sunscreen lotion!

It is amazing the small things you find as you grow older. Which is where I come to my next two favourite things..

4. ROAST DINNER SLOW COOKED ON THE WEBER; Oh. My. I must be getting old, when a recipe out of Jamie Oliver has me dripping saliva on my top more than an all nighter at the local clubs!!

Weber BBQ

But there is something about the smell of a roast cooking over the hot coals while watching the sun set red plains of the outback that screams summer to me.

I also love the way the males especially the alpha males flock to the cooking on these occasions.

**Note for the single, aim for the guy with an ability to cook!!**

So surround yourself with friends, laughter and a bucket load of my next favourite thing...

5. THE MOJITO; Any flavour of mojito from the humble basic mojito through to any of the latest flavours to come about, my recent favourite is the raspberry mojito.. YUMMY! I don't drink a lot these days, so definitely quality over quantity for me!

So that will be me this summer, we will be renting a beach house with our nearest and dearest, enjoying evenings of great food and great company. Creating the memories of tomorrow.

I hope that your summer has been full of these and I hope that you've managed to meet some lovely friends along the journey. Who knows one of these friends may end up being tomorrows Romeo... one can only hope!!

Enjoy the rest of your summer... and think of me, for I'll be unpacking my summer wardrobe shortly!!

:) Hazel

Hazel Loves Design

Makin' Up and Breakin' Up and the Monkey in the Middle

When we are younger it seems so normal to take sides.  Letting people cut in line, or adversely, refusing to save their spot in line, so when they get back they have to go all they way to the end. Then in high school it’s all about cliques and the latest gossip.  It seems like life is a revolving door of who is in the group and who is out.  Then, with time, we get a little bit more mature.  Our circle of friends broadens and then narrows, leaving many closer, more significant relationships. Then our more significant friends meet other people, fall in love, and our circle once again starts to grow.  Two guys who have been friends for years start seeing two girls and those two girls become best friends.  Everyone is happy.  Double dating is a breeze.  And then a horrible thing happens- someone breaks up.  Gone are the fun days of dinner and drinks, here to stay are the endless nights of consoling one’s friend and the “he said/she said” scenario of doom.  

Maybe he did go out with his friends until 4am every day of the week and maybe she did once stand over his (what she thought) sleeping body with a knife in one hand and a cocktail in the other, but all you really care about is keeping relationships with both these people you’ve come to love.  You don’t like them because of the way they liked each other, you like them because of the way they made you feel.  You know that they both kicked each others’ hearts in the ass, however, you’re not in the judging department.   In fact, we make a point not to judge our friends too much. As long as they are essentially good people and not psychopaths- we would like to keep our friends because it isn’t always easy to make more.   

Let’s face it- most marriages end in divorce and most people will break up.  Life is very stressful.  Money, career, and children are only a few things that add to a couple’s breaking point.  Add some deceit in there and a little emotional unavailability and you’ve got a great formula for someone’s relationship to dissolve.  As friends it is our job to be the shoulder they cry on, however, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors.  How many times has a couple broken up and you’ve heard yourself say, “but they seemed so happy!”

I used to think that not taking a stand for one side or the other meant that I was supporting all the things that were negative, but then I realized that nobody is perfect.  I concentrate on who that person is and think about the things that they have done for me.  Did they come visit me?  Did they remember my birthday?  Were they there for me when I needed someone to talk to?  Are they trying to bring everyone into their relationship drama or do they actually need someone to talk to?  There will always be drama, but is that person maintaining respect or are they airing out their former partner’s dirty laundry for everyone to see?  I start to consider those two people as just that, two separate people .

Break-ups are messy.  That’s why they are called break-ups and not put-togethers.  After a certain age, we don’t want to make our friends go all the way to the back of the line anymore because I think we know that one day it could be us, and we don’t want to be at the end of the line either. 

Indecent Proposal

I love the movie an Indecent Proposal with Robert Redford, Demi Moore, and Woody Harrelson. Robert Redford’s character, absolutely enchanted, offers Woody Harrelson (a recently laid off architect) one million dollars for one night with his wife (Demi Moore).  They go through with the agreement because of their recent financial strife and it ruins their marriage.  After the couple splits, Robert Redford does everything he can to woo the newly single Demi Moore, and succeeds.  The audience doesn’t really know Robert Redford’s motives until the end of the film.  The twist at the end only solidifies Robert Redford’s character not only as an amazing man, but as an amazing person as well.  It’s the fairy tale story of a one night stand that turns into an incredible love affair with a tried and true gentleman.  I was hooked.  I watched the film three times and wanted nothing less than to find my own debonair multi-millionaire or at least something close to it.

I had never really put much thought into it until I met my best friend’s boyfriend’s friend (are you still with me?) from high school, an architect who lives in New York.  On our first meeting he was leaving to go back to NY in the morning and my friend insisted that I go out with them and have a few drinks.  So, being the adventurous person that I am, I did just that.  I think the architect and I had one very light hearted conversation about my Cuban roots, but most of it consisted of my giggling and drunken banter with my friend.  The evening came to a close and my friend drove me back to my car which was parked at her apartment.  

While we were en route she received a text from the architect.  Unbeknownst to him, I was the keeper of my friend’s cell phone since texting and driving is a big no no, and it was not my friend who was reading and replying to his text messages, but me.  He said that he liked me and wanted to ask me for an audience at a more intimate second location, but it would be awkward because we had only just met, etc.  He suggested that she suggest to me that he should meet me at my apartment.  We had already gotten to my car at that point, so I left the conversation open for her to finish, and headed home.  She then called me and asked me what I thought.  My thoughts were that nothing good happens after 11pm and it was already midnight, to wish the architect happy travels, and that I was going home to enjoy the fact that a guy was attracted to me and fall into bed.  And that is exactly what I did.  


The next day she informed me that she gave the architect my email address and I received an email that said meeting me was great and that if I was ever in New York we should definitely continue our conversation.  I replied with my phone number and with the lighthearted incentive that if he should ever think of something witty to text me, he should.  I guess whit was not one of his strong points because I heard nothing of the architect until months later when my friend informed me he was going to be in Los Angeles working on a project.  At the same time I got the opportunity to take a road trip to my home town with my friends E and D.  I made dinner plans with my friend as a send off for a trip she was taking with her boyfriend and as a last get-together before I went on hiatus.   

While driving to the restaurant my friend called and let me know that her boyfriend and the architect would be joining us.  My thoughts were: the more the merrier and I left things on a high and open note.  We sat together at the restaurant, taking advantage of the amazing happy hour, and talking about whatever young women find to talk about.  Her boyfriend and the architect eventually joined us where random conversation continued and I asked the architect about what he was doing with work.  I think perhaps two complete sentences were spoken between us.  We then moved the casual conversation to their apartment, where the architect was staying, and we all tiredly and awkwardly sat for about an hour.  My friend’s boyfriend asked me if I wanted to stay the night at their place because of the late hour, but I politely declined, citing that I had to get home to my cat (the single woman’s excuse).  I said goodbye and wished them all good luck and a safe trip.  

After two days of thought and angst over being the one to make the first move and realization that in a world with no dating rules, it doesn’t really matter, I emailed the architect about “hanging out” knowing that the worst I would receive was the single man’s excuse of:  I’m so busy, maybe next time.  He replied with a cheerful, “sure” and I was a young woman with a date for a date.  The plot thickens.  I only had two days left in town at this point, which left that night or the next day.  So we made plans for that night, however, because of his 16 hour work day and promise to have dinner with our friends, he wasn’t going to be able to do anything until after midnight.  I was once again left with my original dilemma that nothing good happens after 11pm, however, it had been intercepted by the thought that though nothing good happens, that doesn’t mean that something great couldn’t happen.  I was now a woman not only with a date, but with the fantasy that I was going to have the greatest guy-from-out-of-town rendezvous ever.  My roommate was on a trip so I had the apartment all to myself.  My friend, D, came over to boost my inner siren’s ego.  By dusk I was totally going to have the most amazing night ever, Indecent Proposal was fresh in my mind, and nothing was going to stop me.

2am and mid Return of the Jedi I was feeling a little less like Demi Moore being whisked away to a yacht and a little more like myself again.  The architect finally arrived, apologizing for it being so late. He was also going to have to drive our friends to the airport in three hours, so I gave him a tour, opened a bottle of wine, and we sat in my living room and talked.  One conversation led to another and he said that in the last hour he had been waiting for me to lead him to my bedroom.  Then one thing led to another and it was 5:30am and he was back at my front door and we were saying goodbye.  I went back to sleep and the next morning I was on the road and in El Paso by that evening.
 

I did not hear from the architect for a month and I realized my recent obsession with Indecent Proposal had led me to a rushed, faux romantic encounter.  The fantasy was that I was going to have this amazing evening and possibly a lover in a new city, but the reality was an uncomfortable night and a phone number in my contacts that I ended up deleting.  I knew that the architect was not going to be Robert Redford.  I also knew that this person was not going to be anything more than a possibility for a new friend or connection in a distant and interesting city.  What I did not think was that this situation was going to be the complete opposite of what I had in mind.  Not only had I not been able to produce a night which met my standards (fantasy or not), but now I was adding him to that mental list of men we women all keep fresh in our minds: the ones you never hear from again and just assume probably died.  

Indecent Proposal?  No.  An interesting yet common story?  Yes.  However, the guy is an architect, so maybe that puts me one step closer. 

Celebrating Your Independence

Today is the 4th of July or better known to Americans as Independence Day.  Because I was born in Canada and brought up by a Cuban father and Canadian mother, I've never quite been as patriotic as most Americans.  I never miss a chance to see amazing fireworks, eat red, white and blue cake, or drink to the beginning of the country I call home, however,  I don't quite celebrate with the same gusto as others.  This year I've decided to take a different view of this national holiday.  I'm celebrating my own independence.

Last fourth of July I was still technically living with my ex.  We had just broken up and my new living arrangements weren't going to take effect until August.  I decided to go to the neighbor's and celebrate by meeting a slew of happy party goers, eat hot dogs, and drink cheap beer.  After a fun evening and a fireworks show we watched from the corner of our street, I was aggressively pulled away from the group by my ex and questioned about what details I had told people about our break up.  Apparently a mutual friend of ours had texted him and berated him about a conversation I had with him the day before.  The evening definitely ended with a bang, but not the bang of fabulous fireworks that I had hoped for.  Instead I was forced to leave my apartment by an irate ex and ended up staying at friends' places for the rest of July.

It's been one year since that last encounter and my life has changed in so many positive ways.  I now live with a fabulous roommate in a great apartment.  I've become more of my own person than ever before and am a happier, more independent person.  I've been able to work solely on myself and only have my family and friends to worry about.  Instead of concentrating on why someone else isn't happy with me, I concentrate on whether I am happy with myself.  I am living my life the way that I want to live it.

Independence Day doesn't have to only be about the birth of a nation.  It can be about celebrating the independence that we find within ourselves.  The strength to make tough decisions and to grow is one that everyone should celebrate and I can't think of a better day to do so. 

Instant Gratification

I live in a world of instant gratification.  I turn on the TV and get over 500 channels and if I don't like what's playing on TV I can always hop onto Netflix and get a plethora of movies at my fingertips.  I text my friends and get immediate responses back.  I carry a phone with me at all times which gives me access to my email and the internet.  If I have a question, I don't think about it very long, I just google the answer.  I live a life of information overload that rewards me with the right answers pretty much 24/7.  As I'm writing this blog I'm simultaneously checking my facebook and looking up words in a thesaurus so that I don't repeat the word gratification too many times.

When does all this easy access technology not help me?  After a good first date.  Believe me, I want to put down the phone and be that all too elusive young woman, a mystery to be unfolded, but instead I end up straining to hear the all too elusive bubble pop noise my phone makes when it gets a text message.  My mind swirls with questions: Should I call first?  Should I wait a couple of days? Should I even say anything at all? And then of course I google those questions and end up scrolling the yahoo boards and their inane responses from 14-year-olds avoiding their math lectures (gurl if he be waitin' then don't be datin') and 40-year-old men that seem to have way too much time on their hands (I always send flowers immediately after a first date and possibly a lock of my hair).  I get so caught up in my split-second answer binge that I actually forget that the moments of uncertainty, quiet, and waiting are what make relationships into relationships.

Not many stories of romance or true love start with, "well, he blew up my phone all week and I knew it was love."  They start with hesitation and excitement for what may or may not come next.  If a man pays too much attention to me at the beginning of an affair, I'm supremely annoyed.  I instantly feel like this person has no respect for my time and thinks that it should be spent discussing how late he worked or why broccoli is not his favorite vegetable.  Well, I have news for you, I may be sitting in my pajamas on Friday night watching Indecent Proposal for the second time in a row, but I most certainly do not have time to text you back, "yeah, sucks to work late and I like broccoli but only with a lot of melted cheese."

Even though I love having all the answers all the time, I really don't want that from the beginning of what may or not be someone I'm willing to share a bathroom with.  The best part of falling in love is slowly finding out about someone and figuring out if they are someone you want to continue spending time with or want to avoid at all costs.   I want to be living each step of my life and be happy with it, not waiting for my phone to light up with Mr. Potential's number.  It doesn't mean I won't be happy to hear back about date number two, but it does mean that I won't be stressing if it never happens.  The old saying goes, good things happen two those who wait, or in my case, to she who has as much fun as possible and leaves the waiting to the people serving up her next mojito.

Serial Monogamy / Cereal Monogamy

I’ve been boy crazy my whole life.   Not only have I been boy crazy, but I’m also a serial monogamist.  This is the first time in my life that I can honestly say:  I have no crushes, no gentlemen callers, and not one prospect of a male counterpart anywhere in sight.  It has been a while since I have not needed anything from anyone but myself, and I must say I love it.  This has given me many the hour of self introspection.  Just like eating the same cereal everyday I was in fact picking the same person with every relationship.  I also didn’t pick wholesome, delicious cereals.  I chose snap, crackle, pop, frosted flakes, and Trix.   I have never understood children’s fascination with Trix because it tastes like corn dust, processed with Elmer’s glue to create balls, painted with those fruity smelling markers we all used to love in the second grade and is clearly rabbit food.  In reality, as you know from my very first blog post,  I love good cereals, so why not pick men like I pick my cereal? 

I guess just like we get fixated with the way things taste when we are young, I didn’t realize that just because something tastes good does not mean that it’s good for me.    Now that I am somewhat older and wiser, I know that when something is bright and colorful it may still be filled with artificial flavors like the aforementioned rabbit food cereal.  I know when I’m being manipulated or lied to and have started to read men like I read the nutritional facts of a box.  10% daily value of charm, 30% daily value of BS, and throw in a little creeper in there and it’s part of a complete breakfast.  You know what I don’t like part of my complete breakfast- desperation, neediness, tantrum throwing, and whining.  I wouldn’t eat a cereal that contained things I didn’t enjoy, why spend any of my time with a man who contains qualities I don’t enjoy? If I only eat cereals that do good things for me, then I think I’m going to have to start demanding the same things from the guys in my life.  Just like my usual morning meal- I’m looking for high moral fiber and something I won’t get tired of seeing every morning. 

And I have patience- if I can wait up to thirty minutes to make the better-for-you steel cut oats I can wait for most anything. 

Mr. Darcy Loves You Just The Way You Are

I can’t help but love the stories of the Bronte sisters and Jane Austen.  There is something about the way the characters and stories unfold that has captured my attention since I was a young woman.   I seem to live in a world where everything goes so fast; therefore, a fictional story about a relationship developing over months, years and decades has become the greatest of fantasies.  Heathcliff and his obsession, Mr. Rochester and his dark secret, and Mr. Darcy and his pompous ways, in my mind, rival even the smokiest of modern men.  That also goes for the men that play them: Ralph Fiennes (Wuthering Heights), Colin Firth (Pride & Prejudice), and the most recent Michael Fassbender (Jane Eyre and also starring in X-Men First Class).  It’s not that any of these actors are particularly hot, but the intensity of their performances are sure to make any female swoon.  I know I’m not the only one.  The stories have been retold in countless ways, the very hilarious Bridget Jones’s Diary I & II, for example. 

Not only are the men of these stories amazing, but so are the women.  They have their faults, jump to conclusions, and err like the best of us.  However, they are also often quick witted, clever tongued, and cleverer written.  They are incorrigible and seen that way by their male counterparts, but somehow the men always seem to come around and desire what they at first disliked.  They realize that in fact these women embody everything that they want, a smart, outspoken, independent human being who doesn’t blend into the wood work.  That ladies and gentlemen is the sexiest of all characteristics- a man who actually wants you for exactly who you are.  In the end of these classic tales, these men would bend over backward and walk through fire in order to keep their lady loves from changing.  And isn’t that what everyone hopes for?  Someone who loves you “just the way you are?”  Not only do these men love them for who they are, but the women wouldn’t have it any other way.  They demand that the men they settle down with love them for who they are or take a hike, and in the end, this is what makes the union that much more special. 

I know I’m not the only woman who loves these books and characters.  I also know that life doesn’t work out like a novel (though at times I wish it did), but I think there is a great lesson in these characters and stories to be learned.  One doesn’t really have to change in order to be with the person one loves, because as long as you have the other person’s best interests at heart, then being yourself is enough.   Also- the very common, don’t judge a book by its cover and that honesty (as long as it’s polite) is the best policy.  You are enough because you are what you have to give and if anyone tells you different, crush on their arch nemesis, escape to the countryside and become a school teacher, or marry someone else and then haunt them after you die... or you could just move on.

When Life Gives You Liz Lemons…

I am an avid watcher of 30 Rock.  When I say avid I mean, completely obsessed.  I’ve watched every single episode and can recite my very favorites by heart.  On a horrible day, I like to put on my most beloved episodes to unwind.  The show is not only amazingly written, but embodies a fun-loving and hilarious bunch of characters that I love to watch.  One of my favorite characters is of course Liz Lemon, played by the very popular, and absolutely tremendous, Tina Fey.  Liz Lemon personifies some of the great, not-so-great, and off-the-wall stereotypes of the 40-something single, career woman.  She’s a fellow lover of, “sweater weather, Ina Garten, and when Muppets present at award shows” and I find myself not only loving her, but as a 20-something, feeling closer to this 40-something character than to most of my peers. 

Not only do I have a close bond to Liz Lemon, I sometimes (okay, almost all the time) act like her as well.  I find myself criticizing people who write things like, “I’m so much like Liz its ridiculous” and thinking, Liz Lemon would never let an error like that go- so you couldn’t possibly be like Liz Lemon.  It’s not even that I’m immune to common grammatical errors- I somehow find them more upsetting when Liz is mentioned in the sentence.  I agree, the word whom does deserve a defender and shows about cakes are as enthralling as Law & Order: SVU.  I even sound like Liz Lemon.  Upon signing up for a volunteer event I argued that the question, “are you engaged or married” should be replaced with: “are you engaged, married, or in a long-term partnership?”  My roommate responded with, “okay, Liz Lemon….”  I’m constantly battling the idea of whether or not I want to train a cat to dial 911 or attempt another “adult relationship.”  At this point, training the cat seems like the easier option and I have thought about getting a life alert… just in case. 

What I forget is that Liz Lemon is just a character and the woman who plays her is actually amazing, pregnant with her second child, married, and an incredibly successful writer who juggles career, family, and love.  Even though the cynical and hilarious Liz is easy to identify with, who I should really be striving to identify with is Tina Fey.  Tina Fey has an astounding life and even though what she writes has to do with her own experiences, she is still an unbelievably talented individual who has a very positive outlook.  Like me, Tina Fey struggled to find the perfect guy or any guy for that matter, but it happened for her, all while she was working at the Y and getting discovered at Second City.  Even though things may never fall into place for Liz Lemon- they sure have for the person that created her and in ways that are probably even beyond Fey’s imagination.  So I guess when life gives you Liz Lemons you better take a big gulp of that sweet Liz Lemonade and hold on for the ride of your life.

The Unimportance Of Being Earnest And In High School

The last four days I have been spending time with my friend E, with whom I went to high school.  So of course because I basically hadn’t seen her since we graduated, we talked about high school and the whereabouts of our old acquaintances and naturally, gossip.  E was one of those fabulous young ladies who seemed to have some mysterious outside life from the known world of high school and she would waft in and out of class and friend circles as she pleased.  She was never really attached to anyone and was constantly talking about how in the end, high school really doesn’t matter and that everyone should get over themselves.  Being the sensitive person I was, I knew this was true, nevertheless, always felt that small desperate tinge of the true high school experience. 

Now, as a 20 something, I look back at the moments that left my stomach in knots and think how silly I was and remember her words.  I’m still left with the weird feeling of remembering things like being called a whore by a fellow student when in actuality, I was still a virgin, and her v-card had not only been punched, but bragged about all over school by her boyfriend.  I also think about the fact that she has to live with having been that girl and how I much rather have had the experience of being called the names then ever being the one to call them out.  It left me with a sad feeling of how awful it must be to be that confused, jealous person and either having to work through it or stay ignorant of the experience throughout the rest of one’s adult life.  They say that our teenage years are filled with the most information we will ever be able to sponge up for the rest of our lives.  That every second in time, another synapse snaps and crackles with information making connection after connection.  And although I feel like it was the least important time in my life and the most important time has yet to arrive, I can’t help but think about how much my personality has really altered. 

My location has changed and even much of my physical appearance, I don’t really have friends from that era of my life, nor do I speak to anyone on a regular basis.  I see their facebook statuses from time to time, but E’s visit was the first time in a while that I had revisited what I guess are supposed to be considered “the good ol’ days” but what I feel was a chore I had to check off the list in order to get on with my life.  How much can one really change if one doesn’t even feel like an experience was even that significant?  In truth, I generally use those days as a marker, and find myself frequently citing how tired I am of someone trying to involve me in high school-esque drama, which I already accomplished successfully escaping many years ago.  I don’t feel like I have changed since high school, but become more of myself.  The insecurities once felt have faded and my ability to reason with uncomfortable situations has improved.  When I was in high school it seemed like I would forever be stuck, surrounded by unpleasant relationships, and now I know I have the choice that if something isn’t working, relationship or otherwise, I have the option to just say no, and leave. 

What high school did give me is that connection with every other person who experienced it and didn’t quite blend into the woodwork.  I now know how unimportant high school was to my career and even to a certain extent, my personality.  In addition, even though it was a bumpy road, I wouldn’t change anything if I could.  The young woman I was then handled herself as well as she could and has evolved into the person I am now, and even though it may have not been the most perfect of situations, it was an adventure nonetheless.    

Being Single: My New and Improved Monogamous Relationship

If you hadn’t noticed, I talk about dating.  A lot.  Even though this is a subject many of us can relate to, the even better part about dating is- being single.  Being an “unattached” person is fairly new to me; nevertheless, I LOVE being single.  There are so many experiences (especially in your 20s) that I wouldn’t have had or be having if I was in a relationship.  For instance, I had no idea that I loved sleeping across the bed.  I also forgot what having a clean bathroom was like.  In addition, I know we are taught to share our whole lives, but do you have any idea how nice it is to not share?  Also, dancing on chairs, surrounded by friends and sake bombs, is very enjoyable.  I’m not saying that relationships are all that bad, especially when you find the right person, but being in your own world where it’s just you to please, is, well, sometimes the best.  I spent four years in a monogamous relationship, only to realize that being in a monogamous relationship with myself was the relationship I was really missing.  I truly understand the saying, “the heart wants what the heart wants,” because now when my heart wants something I don’t think twice or have to compromise with anyone. 

This also got me thinking not only about myself, but about other single ladies (no Beyonce pun intended).  People are, for the most part, waiting longer and longer to get married, as well as living on their own.  Women are now developing their careers first, before going down the path to the altar and seem to be better rounded, happier people.  Is being single and successful our modern twist on the idea of “happily ever after?”  Even though I’m not apposed to “settling down” eventually, the idea of being in my own place, going to work, and then coming home to an untouched environment doesn’t scare me, it kind of excites me.  I not only do not fear a life that doesn’t involve a man, but before I take that next step, want a life that doesn’t involve a man.  I’ve spent so much of my life already thinking about what he wants, how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and fighting with him over stupid little things, that I forgot what it’s like to just type on a computer and apply the overused, and slightly incorrect, Occam’s razor:  that being single is so much simpler at this point in my life and so much more pleasant as well.  I know that the right person is an addition to an already happy and amazing life and that’s why as women, we are so much happier when we have that full life and all the pieces of the puzzle in place.  Additionally, some of my friends have boyfriends and some are married, however, there is always an endless supply of women in my age group, wandering around with the same ideas in their heads, to be met at parties, at work, or even on a morning run.  So not only do I not feel alone, but I actually feel more connected.  I feel more connected to myself, my desires, and the people around me.

Moreover, being the #1 person on my mind helped me to become happier and helped me to realize so many more things.  In the book The Richest Man of Babylon, the author talks about how a person has to pay herself first, meaning that 10% of her earnings (every month) go into savings before anything is paid for or bought and that’s that.  This also applies to personal well being- 10% of my time should be spent on just me and no one else.  I had to spend a couple of months with nearly 100% on myself to achieve this realization.  Something that would not have happened if I wasn’t *drum roll* single.   Of course the right partner will always urge you to spend time on yourself, but if you happen to be me and end up in relationships with what seems to be narcissistic men, then yourself becomes all about the other person- no matter the case.  What all this has allowed me to do is envision what I do want for myself and in someone else, and what I don’t want, and go forth with my future into the unknown of the world of happier and healthier singledom.  Now if a man does something that bothers me that much, I just place him in the friend category, no drama needed- because I might adore you, I just don’t adore that you don’t open the door for me or the fact you only talk about Battlestar Galactica.  There’s no fear of losing anything because I’m not.  Because being single and in a new and improved relationship with myself means also being new and improved, inside and out.


The book I've suggested is an awesome addition to any woman's bookshelf.  Regena "Mama Gena" writes about some amazing tips for women at any stage in their lives.  She also teaches a class in New York.  I recommend reading her book and if you have the time and funds, taking her class.  Here's her website if you're interested in looking into it. 

Would You Like Some Chivalry With That?

When I think of chivalry I of course think of a huge, gaping puddle and a man throwing down his jacket into it to save some young woman from mucking up her beautiful heels (which, if you’re anything like me, you have many).  I don’t think men should ruin their perfectly good jackets, however, if a man offered me his hand or even to carry me over this imaginary puddle, I would be (though I may not accept) fictionally thrilled.  These days I’m surprised to get a text message that uses correct spelling, grammar, and says something other than, “where you at?”  Technology, social standards, and cultural differences all come into play when the topic of chivalry comes up.  How much is too much?  How little is too little? Is it women, men, or both who have changed it for better or worse? 

I personally love chivalry.   I adore having doors opened for me, hands held out to help me step down, and having the delight of being the first to walk into an elevator or room.  Not only does it make me feel appreciated, but it can also help avoid an awkward situation.  I realized this after a situation when a guy that I was dating did not open a door for me.  He went in first and I got a door slammed in my face.  It took him twenty minutes to realize I wasn’t in the room, and even though there were more negative factors involved than the lack of chivalry, I did have to say, “That’s why you always make sure that the woman you’re with goes first!”  I didn’t stick around for him to make the mistake twice, but I hope he learned his lesson.  After this particular event, I had to ask myself, “What is it that makes one man incredibly thoughtful and another completely oblivious?”  My feelings are, of course, a couple of things.

The first, and I believe most apparent, is upbringing.  I feel that if parents do not present their kids with the ideals of chivalry (among other things) it does not become a habit forming behavior and then isn’t implemented throughout life.  And, who brings up children?  They say it takes a village but today I’m going to concentrate on mothers.  I feel like some women have forgotten how to raise their boys into respectful men.  I know that at some point kids grow up and have a mind of their own and I certainly don’t have any children, however, I do have male friends.  I feel like the male friends I have who have good relationships with their mothers, and their mothers are the types that always seek to promote courteous manners (from their children and significant others), are the ones who not only open doors, but do much more as well.  I constantly hear about men, “he’s a really great guy, but that’s because he is the only guy, and has three older sisters.”  There’s always an exception, but it cannot be denied that the influence of women is incredibly important.  Because of this, I feel like women haven’t completely killed chivalry, but do have an important role in keeping it alive.   

Secondly, I have been lucky enough to have been born well after women’s liberation.  I don’t know what it’s like to have my ass slapped at the workplace or be called doll, darling, or toots by a coworker.  I know that because of this, women took an extreme turn and stepped in front of Bob, Joe, and Charlie and opened the door for themselves.  I am in awe of the women who were brave enough to stand up for our rights to be independent thinkers and do something other than be homemakers.  Still, I feel like those days (though not forgotten) are (for the most part) over.  I understand that I can open the door for myself, but I can also cook for myself, yet I still go to restaurants.  In addition, women who don’t say thank you when men (or anyone, including myself) open doors, help carry bags, or hold out a helping hand, drive me crazy.  I always remain calm but I fantasize about letting the door go and a cartoon version of that person flying back.   

Furthermore, I have been lucky enough to be alive during an incredible time of technological advances, however, this helps and hinders chivalry .  Text messaging has become the fastest and most used form of communication, and though text messaging provides a great many ways around chivalry, (being a safety net, less personal, and much faster form of reaching someone) it should be even better than actual verbal communication because you have time to read them, out loud, and decide whether it’s thoughtful or thoughtless.  A huge issue is tone of voice.  It is extremely difficult to decipher in writing and can lead to issues that even I'm not immune to.  The best form of communication is one on one.  So pick up the phone and set a date for a date (and don't text it)!  

Last but not least, plain ol' bad manners and the women who accept them.  If you're over twenty one years of age, then guess what- you have control over your behavior.  We also have control over the behavior that we will accept.  If enough women let Mr. Right-Now know that if he doesn't start acting like Mr. Right he'll be ignored, then guess what, he'll probably start playing his cards right or at least try a different hand.  I know that going from boyhood into manhood is a difficult journey, and one I will never experience, but I truly believe that a right of passage for all adults is learning to treat the people around you in a mature and gracious way.  I'm not expecting a Knight's Templar to come galloping out of a ceremony of manhood, bouquet and sword in hand (though that would get my attention) but, especially these days, a little gallantry goes a long way. 

Guys and 10 Reasons You Can't Seem to Get a Date with Me

Since I have become a 20-something dating seems to have become a larger issue.  However, this does not mean that I am dating more, it actually means I seem to be dating less.  This is because of a thing called standards.  Though I don't like the word standard because it's not that these fellows aren't good enough for someone; it's that they don't meet a couple of requirements I have of people in general and specifically for people that I date. 

1) You haven't actually asked me on a date yet: You friended me on Facebook, called me a couple of times "to chat," asked me to meet you for drinks, asked me out to a last minute movie, and invited me to Chinese food with your friends,  but you haven't actually asked me on a date yet, which is why I have very politely declined.   If you just want to be friends, all these things are extremely appropriate, but if you're actually trying to get somewhere with me, you're going to have to ask me out.  I'm a lady, I dress up in skirts and dresses and wear makeup, I want to be taken out, I want you to pay, and I want you to ask me thoughtful questions so I can do what I love, talk about myself.  So- don't invite me out last minute.  I will be busy and I know you want to feel like "it was just last minute" and you weren't really turned down but you're a man and you should know you've got to put that ego on the line ten times to get one date.  Also, don't tell me "to keep you in mind" because I won't and I won't be asking you out.  I want a real one-on-one situation, whether it be a dinner, a picnic, a hike, or an outing somewhere, I need it to be thoughtful, about me, and I don't want to make any effort.  

2) You said something inappropriate:  I know men think about sex all the time.  Women think about sex too, you don't have that market completely cornered, but somehow I'm able to control the words that come out of my mouth (something that happens to be difficult for me), especially when initially meeting someone.  Therefore, if you hinted at sex, asked me to take a bath with you, or told me that you were going to stab me (and not with a knife) I'm not going to date you.  This also goes for inappropriate comments and questions.  Think of yourself as the media, post Janet Jackson costume failure, and give yourself a five second delay to think about what you are going to say.  It even rhymes so you can remember: five second delay, think about what I say. 

3) You touched me inappropriately:  I sometimes have trouble with the personal space issue.  Especially after cocktail number two, even so, I generally tend to stand too closely to people when I speak (a factor of having a Cuban father who has no issues with personal space invasion).  Nevertheless, if you grab my ass, grope my leg, or graze my breast, you are out of the running.  In addition, no is no.  I don't care if you're just trying to put your arm around me.  If I remove your arm, shift away, or tell you to stop, then you do just that, and make sure to apologize profusely for making me uncomfortable.  You might think that you are God's gift to women but please do me a favor and keep your "gift" in your pants and your hands to yourself.

4) You cursed, a lot, or in a manner I found distasteful:  I have been known to describe myself as a fair maiden with a foul mouth but I keep it under wraps around new people.  I generally expect this from others.  So if every other word in your vocabulary contains four letters and starts with s, f, or c, count me out.  In addition, when describing people, even jokingly, especially when they're not standing directly next to you, please don't describe them with curse words.  I understand that kind of friendship, just the other day at Nordstrom's my friend from second grade called me a bitch when I was teasing her in front of the salesperson, still she followed it with, "I've known her since elementary school" and it was an obvious joke.

5) You're too old for me:  I'm not one to judge age differences in relationships.  My parents are 10 years apart and have been married for thirty years (though they met in their 30s/40s), because of this I'm well aware of the challenges that come with a large age gap.  It's nothing personal but if you are more than about eight years older than me, I'm not going to be interested.  We have to absolutely click like no one I've ever met before and you have to look nothing like your age and still be able to think like a 20 something for me to think about being more than friends.  

6) You're a 20 something but you act like a teenager: You constantly talk about comic books, X-men, and the latest video game release.  I was once obsessed with Fable II for X-box but I did find time to talk about other things, especially when around people.  Life is full of topics other than the latest Iron Man film to be released (The Avengers) and I should know Iron Man is one of my favorite movies.  Regardless, I like to talk about other stuff.  Here's a hint, ask me about myself, a subject that never tires me.

7) You're stingy:  I know the economy is bad and I live in one of the most expensive cities in the nation, I still want you to pay for things.  I'm not stingy with my friends, family, or people I date, you shouldn't be either.  It's no way to live your life and certainly no way to treat a woman you want to date.  I don't want you to be extravagant or go into debt but if you could put off buying the iPad so you have a little extra cash, that would be really nice and thoughtful.  I understand more than anyone the hurdles of financial situations yet I still manage, you should too.

8) You smell: I have never quite understood this one, all the same, it tends to be an issue.  Please, please, please do me a favor- wear clean clothes, shower three times a day if you have to, brush your teeth, put on deodorant and cologne, but don't be stinky.  I know that men tend to have a harder time with smells but I can tell you one thing, women do not.  So if this means you have to beg your best girlfriend to come over and sniff you before you go out, well, I guess that's what you have to do but don't go out of the house if you think you should shower or maybe shouldn't wear those jeans for the third time in a row.  Buy Febreeze, do laundry (including your sheets, your room smells too), and take a shower, call me the next day.

9) You talked too much about your ex: The ex-files will eventually be opened, even so, I don't want to hear about them within the first months of knowing you unless I specifically ask, and even then, be vague.  I don't want to know names and definitely not breast sizes.  I especially dislike when men bad mouth the women they have dated.  We have all had our share of horrible relationships, I try to make light of the situation and concentrate on the good parts.  If you can't do this then maybe you should see a therapist or put off dating for a while but don't expect me to return your phone calls after you've verbally bashed another female for 20 minutes, even if she is Satan.

10) You're giving me a weird sexual vibe: You are either talking about sex too much, talking about your lack of sex, or talking about weird, general things that have to do with sex.  Please don't type stuff like I can't wait to "cum" to your birthday party when you message me or talk to me on Facebook chat.  Don't make everything into a sexual innuendo like saying, "you're purse is 'blow me'" instead of below me.   It might have worked once, maybe it even worked a couple of times, but I can guarantee you that it won't work with this girl.  I don't care how sensitive you are, if you're talking about the sensitivity of your penis, I'm going to avoid you at all costs. 

There it is, ten reasons you can't seem to get me to go out with you and ten reasons I'm sure other women would agree with as well.  And just for fun here's a bonus:

11) You think you're a nice guy but you're really not:   You're constantly saying things, like: I'm a nice guy why can't I get a date?  Well, chances are, you're not really a nice guy.  You do nice things but secretly want something to come of it.  You talk about how women have mistreated you and how horrible they are (and yes we all do bad things, women and men alike) but what you need to do is suck it up and get better at reading people or maybe even improve yourself.  Chances are that if nine out of ten of the people you are attracted to treat you badly, you need to see the warning signs or learn more about yourself (write your own 10 reasons) .  The old saying goes, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me and the reason is that even though there are many things we don't have control of, always ask yourself what you did have control of in those situations.  I have met and even dated many men that can act really sweet but they are not nice guys.  They know what to say, what to buy, and what to do but underneath it all is a person with issues.  They are not horrible people, just conflicted, and a sensible woman will distance herself.  So if you're listing the things you've bought for me or how many times you've taken me out, I'm headed the opposite direction.  I want someone who counts their blessings (especially the blessing of spending time with me) not someone who counts who has done what and for how much.

My Father and Al the Hamster

Sometimes being a 20-something means being nostalgic.  Being nostalgic for me is remembering stories about one of my favorite people in this world, my father.  Let me paint a picture of my father for you.  He stands just barely 5'5" and has always worn a huge mustache that at one point he curled into handle bars with wax.  He has thick, salt and pepper, wavy hair that he wears brushed back and dark brown eyes which always convey some type of mischief.  Above his eyes are some of the thickest arched eyebrows I've ever seen (besides my own).  If you put his head on a Christmas Elf's body- he could get a job in the north pole, no problem.  He walks with a slight limp, caused by one leg being slightly shorter than the other, and speaks with a fairly thick Cuban accent.  He's pretty eccentric.  On occasion, he has been known to wear all white (including shoes) and a hot pink yamaka.  He pulls it off, very well. 

When my sister and I were girls, we were like many other children and owned a hamster.  He wasn't like most other hamsters because my sister was able to acquire him when he was a baby because one of her fellow classmates had just had a litter.  He soon became a member of our family and of course one of my father's closest companions.  My father would often take Al out of his cage, place him in the front pocket of his shirt, and keep him there for hours on end.  In turn, Al loved it and didn't seem to want to leave.  This however, only applied to my father's pocket.  As soon as Al was placed in his cage and it was passed midnight and everyone was asleep, he transformed from a tiny hamster into Houdini.  He was the most brilliant escape artist anyone in our family had ever seen.  His first escape was a short one.  Everyone had gone to bed and it was about 1am when my sister was awoken by something she thought she saw.  She swore that a small red streak had gone across her floor.  She thought nothing of it and put her head down when, again, the red streak!  She waited...and just at the right moment she turned on her bedside light and there was Al, frozen in place like a convict caught by a spotlight.  On his second escape he was gone for two days until one afternoon I heard something that resembled scratching.  I looked in my closet and it seemed that my guitar was making noises.  On closer inspection, there was Al, curled up in the base, making his new home in my musical instrument.

By Al's third disappearance my sister and I were sure that he was lost forever.  There were tears and drama, our beloved Al was gone forever.  My father seemed incredibly positive, smug even.  He kept saying to us over and over, "Don't worry, I will find Al, he is sleeping now during the day but at night I will find him."  Yeah right!  How is my father, the man who can't even find the remote control when it's right in front of him, going to find a teeny tiny hamster in a four bedroom house?!  It was an impossible feat.   It wasn't going to happen.  Furthermore, we didn't understand the point of our father taunting us with something we knew was impossible.

My sister and I finally gave up our search and retired to the couch and watched TV.  Around nine o' clock my father came out, limp and all, opened the fridge and cut a piece of cheddar cheese (we're Canadians and cheese addicts).  He then stands in front of the TV and exclaims, "come now, you will see, I will find Al!"  Even though we were sure my father was full of it, we were still intrigued.  So we stood up, griped about his crazy antics, and followed him into the hallway.  He then started to say, in his sweet sing-song voice, Cuban mumble and all, "Al I haaaave soooome cheeeeese for youuuuuuu!"  You can just imagine my sister and me then!  We were going nuts!  Please, really, this is your  genius plan to get the hamster?  You're going to hold up cheese and yell his name?  My father had gone clinically insane.  This was going to end with us convincing our mother to commit him, not with the retrieval of our pet.  It's a hamster!  Hamsters probably don't even know their names nevertheless come when they're called.  Who did he think he was...? Then it happened.  The hamster came straight out of my sister's bedroom.  Sat right at my father's feet.  My father scooped him up, put him in his pocket, and gave him the piece of cheese and looked at us, "I told you.  I find him."  My sister and I were speechless.  He actually did find the hamster.  Later we decided that he must have been training him in secret, even so, we never doubted my father again... or at least not for a few months anyway.

Goldilocks and Dating

Most of us know the charming parable of Goldilocks and the Three Bears: a young girl, who gets lost along the way, finds a fascinating cottage wherein she stumbles upon delicious porridge and a comfy bed.  Being a lover of porridge and soft, cozy beds, as a child I was entranced by this story.  To this day I can still imagine the taste of the porridge and snuggling into that baby bear's bed.  What I didn't realize was that as a 26-year-old woman, I would be sitting on the floor of my living room, laptop in hand, watching old episodes of "My So Called Life," googling the newest guy that I agreed to go on a blind date with, and thinking of little Goldi and her happenstance story of being lost and then finding an ideal situation.  I realized that at this time in my life how much I have in common with Goldilocks.  A young(ish) woman on a journey, slightly lost at times, and hoping to stumble into my own perfect world of warm bowls of oatmeal and feather-soft down pillows.  Also, like Goldilocks, I've had my sampling of too hot, too cold, too hard, and too soft.  If you hadn't guessed already, not with cereals and mattresses but with men.

Before I get to men, the interesting thing about Goldilocks and the Three Bears is that originally Goldilocks was not an adorable blond, curly haired, doll-like figure, but an old woman who, in one of the versions, dies (she's impaled on a steeple, classy).  In addition, the three bears were not Father, Mother, and Baby but three bachelor bears.   Now we're getting to a meatier version of this fantasy that has a deeper connection with my own experiences.  The old woman representing my search for the perfect mate and going for what you want and the fact that every year I get closer to the biological clock race-against-time-issue.  My three bachelors definitely have varying tastes, however, I mostly understand the old woman/Goldilocks's need to run away at the end of the story.  I have, on many the occasion, felt like slipping (or perhaps jumping) out a window.  I begin a date like a naive, lighthearted Goldilocks and end it feeling like I will be that old woman, stealing other people's perfect porridge, never somehow finding my own (though microwaves, the modern marvels of our time, have made the process so much easier).  Also like Goldilocks, I am never quite content.  I don't consider myself a magnet for mishap but in the last four months I have dated a guy who apparently had an addiction to prostitutes, an Orthodox Jew who licked my arm on the third date, and someone who was 12-years-older than me (the aforementioned blind date, now leaving me with the thought of, how old do I really look).  These were not their only qualities- all three were very endearing in their own way, yet somehow not that perfect bowl of gruel.  Three seemed to be the magic number for Goldi but obviously not for me. 

All-in-all I'm still on my search.  Until then, at least there is never a dull moment in my tales of dating.  Even in fiction the girl ends up running away from her utopian findings.  My findings, unlike Goldi, are less utopian and more inconvenient, such as walking into a date's bathroom, washing my hands, turning to find that instead of a towel, a pair of used boxers are hanging on the rack.  In the end, sometimes a woman has to be happy with a good meal, an excellent nap, cut her losses, and get back on the path of finding something that may not be "just right" but even better.