Pyrate

pirateArgh!

Truth be told, I don’t like it when I’m not working on putting together a costume.

I wonder what the theme will be for the next Village meeting or the next birthday party.

If I knew, I could start planning already.

I checked out a Michael Jackson costume – Totally 80’s!

I also looked into a St. Patrick’s Day costume. Everything green!

In the end, I decided to put together a Pyrate costume.

Mind you, this is my SECOND pyrate costume.

I already have one which I wore to a Pyrate Party 6 years ago.

I remember my ex boyfriend and I had just broken up and I went to the party single while he brought a date.

And his date spent the entire evening hanging all over him trying to make me feel bad.

And I did. Until my new theme song “So What” by Pink! started playing over the speakers.

“So, so what?
I’m still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don’t need you
And guess what
I’m having more fun
And now that we’re done
I’m gonna show you tonight
I’m alright, I’m just fine
And you’re a tool
So, so what?”

Then I felt how strong I truly was. Able to stand on my own two feet in the face of opposition.

In any case, not long after that song played my ex and his mean girl date left the party.

He wasn’t having fun.

Years later we discussed the evening’s events and he apologized for her behavior.

He always was a good guy.

In any case, I now have a second pyrate costume I can wear that has no complex emotional associations.

Just me, a short skirt, and a swashbuckler’s hat.

What could be better?

pirate

Nice guys finish last

nice guysHow often have you heard the phrase “nice guys finish last?”

100? 1,000 times?

I’ve certainly heard it a lot.

Basically, it means that girls like bad boys and the nicer a guy is to a girl, the less likely he is to actually get anywhere with her.

I somewhat resemble this remark.

I had a thing for bad boys. The lumberjacks. The rough and tumble, ready to rumble guys.

I married one of the worst!

Screaming over me while I huddled in a corner clutching a phone calling my parents because I’m sick with the flu, and he’s mad I didn’t clean the kitchen.

I learned a lot in that relationship.

I learned to appreciate nice guys.

The kind ones who listen to you. Who ask how you’re doing. Who remember you on your birthday and on holidays. Who bring you chicken soup when you’re sick.

My next two boyfriends were the definition of Nice Guy.

Jason, with his boxer’s broken nose, looked like a bad guy but was all sweetness and love inside. He would drive 45 minutes each way to come visit me during the week.

And Luke, though he took some time to grow on me, ended up being a very protective and loving boyfriend. Too bad he met and married someone else while we were dating. Truth!

In any case, I feel bad for all the nice guys whom I passed up – the Geoffs and the Gregs and the Andrews.

If it helps at all, I’ve discovered a sure fire way to meet nice guys. . .

Look for genuine smiles.

Avoid smirks, shit-eating-grins, and smiles that don’t reach their eyes.

Go for the guy with the smile that looks like he’s sitting down to a home cooked meal and is so appreciative of what’s in front of him.

It might not be foolproof, but it sure eliminates most of the bad boys.

Lord knows I need more kind souls in my life.

Dear you… Love, Me

MichelleI was sick this past weekend with an unpleasant cold and I spent my days in bed watching movies. I rather unwisely chose to watch movies from the ROMANCE genre which had the lovely effect on me of making me sad, lonely, and horny.

I DO NOT recommend watching romance flicks when you’re single. They will only serve to make you feel like an American version of Bridget Jones without the lovely British accent and Mark Darcy waiting in the wings.

Instead of composing blog posts (like I should have been doing), I composed letters in my head to “The One Who Got Away” and “The Man I Can’t Forget.

Romantic letters.

Letters telling him how much I miss him and how I think of him every day.

How my boys still talk about him and ask how he’s doing.

Some boyfriends fade into the background once the relationship is over. Dave, is a perfect example of that. It becomes harder and harder to recall a single memory of the two of us together.

But others, oh other boyfriends take on a life of their own and become your fantasy when you are turned on. The person you compose letters to in your head when you are lonely. And the one whose name pinches your heart a little when you hear it.

Now during the holiday season, the memories are especially strong.

We both LOVED Christmas and had a spectacular time shopping and exploring the Bay Area during the holidays.

We once saw a whole army of Santa Clauses on a beach in Santa Cruz.

j-m1We had drinks at the Ritz-Carlton with his parents and took pictures in front of their ginormous Christmas tree while the bagpipes played in the distance.

I inundated him with gifts, particularly a handmade quilt with a special theme for him.

The letters I write always start out the same.

“Dear you…”

and they end with “Love, me.”

All you need is to succeed once

IMG_7892Dating.

No one said it would be easy.

And technically, you get it wrong all the time and only get it right a fraction of the time.

Those aren’t stellar odds if you ask me.

I once dated this guy named Paul and for the life of me I couldn’t remember his name. It was like I had a mental block against his name. He finally gave up on me and (I am sure) filed me away under “disastrous dates.”

There was another guy who I went out with who was Lebanese. He had hummus the night before and he FARTED the whole time we were on our date. Nasty, stinky, garbanzo bean and garlic farts. Ugh. I filed him under “NEVER AGAIN!”

But the absolute worst date I went on was with a lawyer who brought his 6 year old daughter and two standard size black poodles with him. Somehow I wound up walking those dogs and letting his daughter watch the Adult Swim station on TV while he ran out for dog food.

And the best dates, we’ll they are like magic in my mind.

Charlie, the Aussie I adored, took me to see Hearst Castle and we strolled along the beach, just like the cliché, hand in hand, chatting about his life in Australia and my life in the US. It was a little bit of heaven and that boy deserved every blessedly wonderful thing that happened to him.

Jason and I hit it off instantly. It was unimaginable chemistry and an instant connection. To this day, I remember how he said my name with gravity and weight, as if it really mattered to him. That boy could say ‘Michelle’ and get a response from me in a millisecond.

Finally, there’s Drew. Drew was a 6’10” volleyball player who literally made me shiver when I saw him, such was the nature of our attraction. Our romance was brief but intense and when he held my hand in a jazz concert at Stanford, I got moist. Yeah, that kind of attraction.

The thing that all the good dates and all the bad dates have in common is that I usually knew, within minutes of meeting the guy, whether it was going to be great or awful. No exceptions. I’ve never expected a bad date and had a good date. Likewise I’ve always known when I was about to have a really good date.

As much as I love going out and having fun, regardless of who I am with, I’d like to meet that one person who connects with me on a deeper level.

So I guess I’ll just keep putting up with the bad dates, getting one step closer to having that good date.

I have a lousy success rate.

But all you need is to succeed once and you’re golden.

Totally, utterly, completely golden.