This past weekend I attended a dating seminar called "Excuse me, You're Doing it Wrong!" and discovered that I have an entitled attitude towards dating. I think that I should just be able to "meet people" in the world without making a great effort, such as, joining an Internet dating site or attending speed dating events. I have never done either of the later and have met guys through friends and work in the past. However, apparently, that's the completely wrong approach. If I'm not engaged in dating like other people are engaged in their careers (I don't have a career), then I can't expect to ever find a relationship. While I understand that relationships take work, now that I've realized that dating takes work, too, I wonder if I even have the energy to do it. I mean I already have a full-time job. I need to get a career. That would make dating a third job! I guess, I need to be unemployed from dating for a while. Just for today, it's OK to be an unemployed date.

Just for today, I can pray for the willingness to be willing to go on dates that could potentially lead to a relationship with an S.O. (i.e. Significant Other). Despite the fact that I have few, if any, role models that make relationships look enjoyable outside of their fulfillment of the apparently human codependent need to chain ourselves to another human to placate our fear of dying alone, I am Willing to Date. My friend suggested that I write down everything that I want in an S.O. 1) Not like any of my old boyfriends! 2) Sane 3) Not like any members of my family! and 4) Must be willing to leap out of his chair to help any man, woman or child in lifting a heavy item! When I read this list for her she suggested that I aim for greater clarity, but I told her that I already had made immense progress. Just for today, I am willing to date.

All the dating books say that it takes three months to "really" get to know somebody. So, if you find someone that you think you're interested, you'd better learn to sit tight and hang out in the unknown for three long excruciating month. It's sort of like a three-month auditioning process where you're not sure if you're the casting director or the actor. You may think you're the one making the cuts, and then suddenly you've been told "don't call us, we'll call you." Just for today, I can withstand the agony of dating.

In the dating process, slowly but surely, each of our weirdnesses get exposed - whether by accident or on purpose. In the past I was a big fan of the "blurt it all out on the first date" technique. This saved me the pain of waiting three weeks to realize that some aspect of my personality was incompatible with said suitor, or, in other words, freaked him out. (Do you really want a long-term relationship with somebody who liked hearing about your menstrual cramps on the first date? More on that later.) However, just for today, I can reveal my peculiarities in tiny increments, this way I may actually come across as normal. For instance, if I am going to inform someone about my interest in listening to people who chanel spirits from beyond, I can couch it between two presumably normal aspects of my personality, such as, my interest in learning to scuba diving and my cuisinart recipes. I can talk about my Psychic Sponsor, while discussing Al Green and Friendster. Just for today, I can reveal my weirdness gradually.

I don't think I can deal with the three month dating process. Who invented this timeline anyway? I don't remember Jesus espousing any rules about dating. Did Ghandi ever proclaim the importance of acting like an "egg" on the first date? Was there a Martin Luther King speech about making a list of the right qualities. My friend Linda reads all these books about dating and goes to Pat Allen seminars (where she learned how to be an egg.) I don't think I can hide my true self for three whole months or act like an inanimate object. It's just too much dang work. Just for today, I'm going to stop reading those books and just be myself.

According to some people, (one weird guy I met in a 12-step room) human beings communicate everything about themselves within the first three seconds of meeting each other (I'm assuming through electromagnetic vibrations and pheromones, but I'm not sure). If this is the case, why do we date at all? Perhaps, if we lived in a more advanced and evolved society, we would need only stand before a prospective mate for three seconds, before making a decision. This would do away with the agonizing process of dating for three months to 2 years and would save lots of time and heartache. Unfortunately, I think my hormones have permanently pulverized my radar, and so I have no choice but to go through these odd dating rituals, where I begin mind reading and creating fantasies based on segments of mass media I picked up at 13 ("Say Anything," comes to mind). The only solution that I can see in all of my confusion is to date someone for five years, so that I'm extricated from my fantasy life and planted firmly in the Real Relationship. This is a far cry from the three second prospect. But just for today, I can take my time in finding The One.

The fourteen-year-old boy I tutor invited me to the Winter Ball. I asked him if I would be the only 31-year-old date there, and he responded that I probably would. I decided I should think of some ice-breakers I could use with the other 9th graders, since it's been a while. Here's what I came up with:

"So, what's it like having been born when grunge was cool and the first Bush administration was in office?"

"Is that Angel smell? Boy, I wish I had $70 to spend on perfume."

"Do you want to learn how to drive? I can teach you because I have 17 years of experience at it."

"Gee, I didn't realize that someone born in 1990 could be a foot taller than I am."

"Do your parents have any cute single friends?"

I think I'll be OK, so long as I don't get too excited when the 80's music plays.

By most accounts in our society, I am living a half-life of emptiness due to the lack of a significant other in my life. By some accounts I need to tear off my judgmental glasses (which apparently I'm wearing) and throw myself at people who don't look like GQ models, because my holding out for someone who does (which apparently I'm doing, although I didn't even know I found GQ models attractive) is what is keeping me single (which apparently is an uncomfortable state for, not only myself, but for others - mostly people in committed relationships - as well).

Hey, folks, I'm OK with being single! Are you OK? Contrary to popular opinion, I am not in a panic about this. While singlehood has loneliness as it's major drawback, it also has total freedom. Why is it so considered so strange and slightly threatening for me to be at peace with this? Ladies, are you having any doubts about your relationship? Because if your relationship isn't good, let me tell you, it's not so bad over here. I have my own apartment that I decorate as I choose, (painted the bathroom magenta), I come and go as I please, I cook and clean for only myself, I spend a lot of time with awesome friends, and I go out on school nights. If you're in love, more power to you, I hope to join you some day. But if you're not in ecstasy, what are you waiting for? It's way fun over here, I swear! (And if you get lonely you can just call me).

Just for today, it's OK to love being single.

It started out simply enough, he was like "Yar, I'll be pulling into the dock by your apartment, so how about we go git some grub." So I was like, "Ok, that's cool...just try to scale down the outfit and leave the eye patch and sword at home." So we go to a local Sushi place and he immediately pipes in with, "I think our children should be home schooled." What?! Dude, I agreed to go out with you because you're a pirate. That means you're out on the open seas the majority of the time, not available for a committed relationship. And then he's like, "Well, I've worked through a lot of stuff in therapy and am ready to create space for a loving, intimate connection with another human being...yar." He even said that he's willing to sell his ship and go apply for a job at Disneyland or Vegas, or as an extra in a movie. (But I know that he'll never take in as much as he would as a pirate...material girl that I am). So, I finally had to tell him that I was in over my head, and was not ready for that kind of relationship. He seemed to take it OK, but as we were getting ready to leave he pulled a small knife on the waiter for taking so long with the bill. I guess I had a lot of preconceived notions about pirates, but I now see that even they have needs.

Just for today, I can accept pirates as multi-dimensional human beings.

If there is one thing I've learned about love and dating in thirty-two years of vibing with the opposite (from me) sex, it's to never, ever entertain a cavalier attitude about my male companions. I don't care how small a role I think someone might be playing in the epic saga of my sometimes fabulous, other times pathetic love life, it has been shown to me on more than one occasion that, once the dust has settled and I'm living in the land of Emotional Clarity, my perspective on what I call my most "significant" relationships, really changes. In the throws of endorphins, God knows who I'll erect a statue to. But after the chemicals have died, it all seems to shift around, like some Sex and the City Kaleidescope, and the guys who stand in relief in the story of my life aren't the ones I necessarily had some mad adolescent Tiger Beat passion for, or even spent a lot of QT with, but the ones who just kind of hung out with me, genuinely listened to me, and seemed to care.

Ever since I was old enough to have a crush on Gopher from "The Love Boat," boys have been my drug of choice...The fantasy that Ralph Macchio was going to rescue me from the barren emotional landscape that was much of my childhood hasn't entirely unhinged itself from my psyche (a fact which is complicated by the fact that Ralph doesn't seem to physically age...though I haven't seen him in some time, so I don't know...anyone?). I wasn't really born with the genetic make-up for a stable commited relationship, so the fact that any one of them show any promise of that is surprising. While I'm sometimes embarrassed, sometimes proud of the fact that it's taken me a long time to find...well, no one to share my life, I do know that I treat the whole unending process with more respect and I know that if I ever do make it to the world of Adult Relationships in one piece, I won't be fakin' it with some giant rock and white picket fence (though - just FYI - I do want a giant rock.)

The point of all this is...I'm becoming slightly mature.

Just for today, I can respect my "process" in love and dating.

The good thing about having experienced different relationships, in a variety of different manners, is that I've learned a thing or two about code language based on oft repeated phrases that I have heard or have said myself. The following might serve as a dictionary/guide based on one woman's experience.

"I'm still hurt from my last relationship." = "Open to non-commital sex."

"I really want to be your friend." = "Come join my harem!"

(If the response to this is negative, the previous comment is followed by...)

"So, if you don't want to be friends, was our relationship just sex to you?" = "Are you saying that my harem isn't good enough for you?"

"I need someone who can accept me for who I am." = "You're WAY too much work."

"I think you have issues with sex and intimacy." = "It's my way or the high way."

Just for today, I can be of service by interpreting relationship code.

I am fairly convinced that I have dated several guys who went through some Jedi Knight courses secretly held at the Learning Annex. With a wave of their hand they practice their mind tricks on me by giving me different version of, "These are not the droids you're looking for." Most often it comes out as "I am not the problem here," or "Your feelings are crazy."

Just for today, I am wary of mind tricks deployed by poorly trained Jedis.

When I was in my phase of reading formulaic dating books (written by people who whose lives are apparently lived north of the cerebellum), I made many lists about what I wanted in a partner that included things like:

Attractive
Educated
Financially Stable
Family Values
And Blah, Blah, Blah, Boring, Boring, Boring

Many of these lists amounted to the creation of a very nice nice male robot. Throw in a sense of humor and I could have a nice witty robot. What ever happened to coziness? None of those books every discuss the importance general cozinesss, of a good relationship turning you into all the things you want in another. The truth is I've seen cozier reality television shows and happier Iraqui prisoners than certain attractive, educated, financially stable people with family values in bad relationships.

I'm so over image I think I'm going to have to move to a tropical country, and live in a hut and fish for my food (not true, I still get my eyebrows done and wear Prescriptives Exact Matchstick Warm Buff 14...so worth the $40).

Just for today, I accept and value the importance of coziness in a relationship.

Many years ago (when I was more clueless and far less fabulous) I asked an older married woman if it was alright that I never offered to foot the bill on dates. She looked at me with compassionate condescension and said, "Kiddo, that's a date. A date is as follows: he asks you out and he pays." And then she went off about flying on a Concorde and other fabulousness that I hope to one day experience before I'm married or too squishy to make any kind of dating seem glamorous (though like Gloria Steinem, I plan to be sexy till I hit 70...at which point I say enough is enough!). Anyway, this woman was happy to support my habit of mooching off poor schlubs who asked me out thinking they might get some play (more on that later).

A few years ago, my aunt, who is a self-made millionaire and who never married or had children, and who goes helicopter skiing after work, found my whole dating philosophy bizarre and foreign, and ultimately, irrelevant. "Why don't you just split it 50/50, or whoever makes more money pays a little more?" Another valid point.

OK, enter me, age 32. At some point in time, I hope to see my body enter a process of distortion and uncontrollable growth known as pregnancy. After the lucky suckers come sloshing out of me (forever distorting my vagina), I vow to work with mind, body and soul to be the best madre humanly possible. Due to advances in self-esteem, I know I will be. Therefore, in exchange for an invitation by an eligible Hombre to coffee, a meal, or ticket for passage on glamorous modes of transport, I will consider the possibility of bearing his child. I do this without guilt or self-doubt or great philosophical questioning of feminism and the state of contemporary women's roles (note to self: research stats on salaries of female CEOs)...because I know that unless there are GIANT leaps in biotechnology, my children will be sloshing out of MY VAGINA and not HIS VAGINA.

If such advances emerge, I vow to restructure dating plan.

Just for today, I feel secure in the logic detailing my dating boundaries.

I was watching Season 5 of Sex and the City (it was a quiet weekend) and in one scene Carrie says "I am one bad date away from bitter." I'm not quite that close, (maybe six bad dates), but I do think that, besides being a sad and lonely state, Bitterness, like dieting, makes women lose collagen (it's not "scientifically" proven or anything, it's just what I think)... So I know that it is imperative not just to my health, but to my attractiveness, that I approach bitterness the way some people regard carbs.

I had one boyfriend who came on really strong with all the right words and stories about white picket fences (can we say Red Flag?!), and when I asked him if he was scared he said that no matter how many relationships didn't work out he refused to ever give up on love (can we say Red Flag, again?!...I sure wish I had). He showered love on me all the way into his next relationship.

Were I to base my life on observations, I would believe that adult homosapiens become more fragile and frightened of love as they get older, and when we get hurt or rejected we shatter like the posse of knick knacks on my grandmother's dresser. But I can't live my life that way anymore because it makes taking risks and experiencing dissappointment another project, like painting my kitchen, and I don't have the energy anymore to fight against my fears of rejection. If Michael Moore was right that America is a culture of fear, then what do I have to worry about? I can' t base my lovability on how scared everyone else feels. All I can do is love freely, and if someone can't love me back then he's either not the right person or is to scared and hurt to feel worthy. To be honest, it sounds kind of simple (as in not smart), but I'd rather be simple and filled with tacky platitudes and affirmations, than Bitter.

Just for today, I can practice loving freely.

My new dating plan is...well, it's not really a plan, it's more of a philosophy. Basically, it's a plan to not date. Dating is weird (to me), anyway. It's like another job...and more pressure (and I have enough jobs and pressure). So, the deal is this...I meet a guy who I might consider having children with and then....(drum roll) I become his friend. I know! Very revolutionary. While the drawbacks are that he might be dating someone else or engaged or married (I hope that would be evident)...the benefit is that IF he's single and let's say...retarded, hates women, can't get over his ex, has commitment issues (unlike myself) or retarded (not to disparage people with mental disabilities, but a friend of mine once told me of another friend who thought she was dating someone who actually was retarded...), I will (hopefully) come to see that before "getting involved" (my favorite euphemism for sex) and able to disengage without any weird "I just don't think we're a match" conversations.

It's brilliant, really. I mean, it might be obvious to some, but this is a total revolution in my life.

Just for today, I have a dating plan.

I must have a psychic sign on my forehead that reads, "talk to me about your sex life!" because last night, this morning, and this afternoon three separate friends felt very comfortable unloading the gory sordid details of their various bedroom lives to my non-judgemental born-again-virgin (anyone who hasn't had sex in a year...according to my friend in college) ears. While I am honored to have the confidence of these fabulous ladies, I'm taking this as a sign that it's time to give up the mourning period of my last relationship and start dating...already...(sigh).

Why am I writing about this in blog daylight?

Well...if I'm expected to post an ad on some Internet Dating site (so that I'm, according to my friends, "open to the universe") which sounds about as much fun as job hunting (and almost as sexy as licking my computer screen), then I may as well write in my blog about the fact that, quite frankly, I'M AVAILABLE!

It's not that I'm desprate (in fact, I'm feeling more da bombish than ever), but I'm genuinely worried that I could spend the next 15 years living in my single pad apartment, feeling superior to people in dysfunctinal marriages, helping lost boys find a good male therapist and waking up at 49 and...well, it doesn't sound quite so bad. But I want kids! And a husband to deal with the barbecue! And stuff! Like houses, and dish sets, and lots of crap in the garage! It's really about time that I got all yuppified and normal and stopped scaring my friends from college with my blatant disregard for the establishment.

Just for today, being single is fun (see blog below), but it's time to start dating.

Listen up, cuz this is important to you ladies starting out on the (what?) "single scene" in this land of plenty of sexualities. There are three very important words for single women looking for a man in LA:

1) Are.
2) You.
3) Gay.

There is some serious sexuality confusion out there. Men who claim to be straight tell me they like my bag and shoes. Men who claim to be gay are totally flirtatious.

Just for today, we can all get the facts straight (no pun intended).

I somehow got talked into signing up for Match.com. Despite the fact that I would rather force feed myself undercooked kael, sleep in a mattress infested with bed bugs AND eye-biting spiders (my co-worker got bit in the eye by a spider, too! WHAT is up?!), while fighting a sinus infection (assuming I didn't know that hydrogen peroxide is the miracle cure), than participate in Internet dating....I signed up because I'm making a statement to the universe that "I'M WILLING!" So, despite the inherent creepiness of the outfit, I paid my $50 for a 3-month subscription and have proceeded to receive a scattering of "WINKS" from guys that maybe I would politely smile at if I were standing at the condiments counter at Starbuck's and they were waiting for the half-n-half that I was hoggging. OK, there was ONE NICE GUY, who I spoke to over the phone (if you happen to be reading this...well, gee, this is awkward. You're really nice and all, I'm not sure we're a match, but you have been the shining star of the entire experience).

The point of all this is that I'm starting to believe that Match.com and all these other online dating services are seriously profiting from the dense population of lonely folk desperately hoping to ease their pain with another co-dependent soul. There's also the flattery factor. Put up your best picture, get a few winks, and who cares how bloated you're feeling? (it's the half-n-half). Just take a look at the messaging that goes along with the winks: "Jacksonian winked at you! Out of millions of members, he picked you!" First of all, I don't think there are millions of women between the ages of 27 to 35 within twenty miles of Jacksonian...so right there is an outright lie. Secondly, how do I know that he isn't winking at fifty women a day (or men?). All he's doing is hitting a button. (It's this kind of scrutiny that probably got me rejected by e-harmoney...).

Let's face it, there's nothing like "wink" from a 57-year-old retiree to fuel a depressive outlook on a 34-year-olds dating prospects [I know there are many women in their 30's interested in older men...I, however, am not one of them. Not that I would rule it out, but it's not exactly the "vision." BYB: I have one friend who likes dating older men because she feels like the "fresh" young thing. I prefer not to feel "fresh" or "stale," but ageless].

For now, I've closed down the profile and will take my chances in the real world (MySpace?). Is it too much to want such things as relevance and context in a potential date? As in, "I met you through BLANK, or while doing BLANK, or in BLANK class..."

Just for today, I can say no to Internet dating.

I cancelled a date tonight with someone who tells me I'm "beautiful" and "stunning." Why? Because I had to go to Target and buy shampoo and Comet and roam the earrings aisle (I ended up buying two pairs of earrings...one that looks exactly like two pairs I already have, only as if they were mixed together). I think I have an aversion to healthy dating. The idea of not having a definitive stance on my relationship to a man I'm sitting across from is more terrifying to me than jumping out of a plane into a jungle filled with spiders. Can't I just go shopping and buy a husband?!

My therapist (she's being a pain) tells me that I don't want to feel vulnerable (whatever!). I'm down with feeling vulnerable and all that crap (uh...in yoga and therapy!), but I'm starting to think that by the time I'm "ready" for a relationship my potential candidates will be playing croquet at Leisure World (do they play croquet...anywhere?)...(giant sigh).

So, instead of trying to get to know a suitor, I went to yoga and listened to the sound my knee makes when I go into plow (like someone stepping on corn chips) and wondered how attractive that might sound to my would-have-been date.

What I'm beginning to see is that I'm a big scarety-cat (sp?) and, like the Lion, I desperately need some courage.

Just for today, I can be honest with myself.

Couldn't make up my mind about anything this weekend...I spent hours trying to decide if I should go to yoga, color my hair dark brown, or take a nap. My date on Friday night ended at an awkward moment after I told him that I didn't know him well enough to hold his hand. Needless to say, I spent a part of today flirting with the kittens at the Pet Adoption place, and wondering if it's time to join the ranks Crazy Cat Ladies everywhere.

My friend's girlfriend told me that in order for a relationship to happen there needs to be three things:

1) Attraction (wanting to pounce the other person)
2) Chemistry (wanting to talk and hang out with him/her)
3) Timing

I actually define attraction and chemistry in the reverse of what was expressed but, really....who cares. The point is, what is up with my timing?! I meet someone, he's in a relationship. I hear that he's single and there's a ray of hope. Five minutes later, he's in another relationship. It seems that the window of opportunity for men over the age of 30 who I'm interested in is less than five minutes. My whole dating life has been a series of missed opportunities. So, my question is...where was the "Sex and the City" episode on that issue?!!

Just for today, I'm considering getting a cat.

I was walking with my friend today when two separate toddlers approached me. One wanted to show me her doll, and the other just smiled at me.

"My uterus is creating a gravitational pull towards babies," I told my friend. Not to get all sci-fi on my reproductive organs, but I swear there is something about a woman's fertility and ovulation that babies have a sixth sense about (they see dead people, too....so it shouldn't be surprising). Perhaps, it's the way immigrants feel about their homeland...?

I told my friend that I've given up on meeting a guy my age because the majority of these men that I meet are either married, in a committed relationship, or addicted to porn (or something equally non-conducive to a relationship). After 40 (and maybe even late 30's), it seems that many more men are single again...the marriage or long-term relationship didn't work out, and they've taken some down time, worked on themselves, and rediscovered their love for cycling and Asian cooking. But men in my specific age group (32-37), are currently in domestic hibernation with somebody (not me) having reached maturation at a socially acceptable age...So, for this and other reasons I've widened the net of dating possibilities far outside of my age box, race, class, and socio-economic background. I'm as open as I've ever been to different types of guys so long as they don't do things like send messages on MySpace that say:

"I know we are strangers and all but I was wondering if...you'd care to meet for drinks?
PS: If you agree for a drink, I want you to know I don't pay for 'her' drinks. Its 50/50. The if we start dating its still 50/50. Maybe 70/30." (I left the typos in for the full effect.)

Would someone take a look at my MySpace profile (http://www.myspace.com/searchforsanity)
and please tell me...do I look THAT DESPERATE?

In truth, though, things are not as dire as I like to make them seem (people like to laugh at the plight of desperate women and I am desperate to make people laugh). In reality, I'm really excited to date and meet new men because for the first time in my adult life, I'm not interested in a guy just because he looks good on paper. All throughout my 20's and early 30's I acted, in part, on the faulty belief that a relationship was something I could add to my resume What I didn't understand was that a good relationship is like a gift from God and while there's nothing wrong with a good job, education, and portfolio, you can't cuddle up and go to bed with them (which doesn't mean that I didn't love these guys for who they were...just that the relationships were highly dysfunctional). I've also spent enough time in Los Angeles to know that money not only can't buy love, but it (sadly) can't buy a happy childhood.

However, since I have intimacy issues that take the form of irrational judgements on otherwise wonderful prospective partners and friends,

BAD REASONS NOT TO SAY "YES" TO A DATE WITH SOMEONE

1) I don't like his shirt.
2) His iPod is full of George Micheal (and he's straight...the potential date, that is).
4) He likes me.
5) He's never been in therapy.
6) He's short.
7) He's off the beat (this is up for debate).
8) He thinks the Rubik's Cube (or enter any 80's gadget currently experiencing a retro re-emergence) was just invented (this is so magazin-ey...but how else do you say "young?").

I also wrote out GOOD REASONS TO SAY "NO" TO DATE WITH SOMEONE, but they were so frighteningly obvious (despite the fact that I had to learn them the hard way) that I was too embarrassed to publish them (and that's REALLY saying something!).

Just for today, I can blog about dating.

Tonight my friend and I discussed the mysterious way in which what seem to be promising possibilities in the Date-osphere seem to fizzle out like that glass of Diet Pepsi you poured last night and left on your nightstand (you know, you really shouldn't drink caffeine at night...). Or the millionth Air-Borne (does that stuff even work?) you plopped into some water in a desperate hope to stave off that flu EVERYONE in your office has been injecting into the recycled air (sound familiar?). Or whatever else causes a chemical reaction (Pepto Bismol, etc...I worked my ass off in chemistry class, but for the life of me I can't remember a single experiment)....The point is, I was talking about dating (sigh). Do I have to? (Yes, I believe do).

Dating responsibly is both far more interesting and dissappointing than the old more fun and, ultimately, stupid method of tossing care to the wind and trusting in the bond that is the forged through pheromones and a mutual passion for Todd Solondz films (hypothetically speaking). The new way entails actually taking my time to get to know a person. What a freakin' concept! Why didn't somebody tell me this 20 years ago?! The thought of how much time, pain, and energy the Waiting To Get To Know Someone system of dating would have saved me is staggering...really, it's too depressing to think about...

Now, when I meet someone I think is nice or attractive, all I have to do is ask questions and listen to the answers (so simple and, yet, so alien). So when I hear things like "DUI" or "porn collection," I make a connection between said noun and the person speaking the word (to be perfectly honest, it was the listening part that I always had trouble with).

Just for today, I can date responsibly.

I have a male co-worker/friend who makes the day tolerable by making me laugh and listening to my dating woes (more like my whining). He rides a motorcyle and about a year ago he took me on (for) a ride that was originally intended to be to my car. Without getting into the details (because it's best not to underestimate the LAPD), let's just say that I won't be riding on any motorcyles with him or with anybody for the next few lifetimes. I still think he's great. I'm just very attached to being alive.

On Monday he came into work with a healthy five o'clock shadow. When I asked him about it, he answered:

"For the mojo factor. I've got numbers flying at me now."

Guys are so lucky. The less responsible and vigilent they are, the greater the sex appeal. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way for women. What sort of action would I get in the city of LA if I bought a motorcycle and let my legs, arm pits, and eyebrows grow out? I might get numbers, but they would, most likely, not belong to men...

Just for today, it sucks being a girl.

This morning my coworker who I will call Evil Flash Programmer (he's only evil with code) and who is dating someone 26 years younger than he is (which I don't think is evil, but you can feel free to judge...) imparted some pearls of wisdom to me on the subject of relationships. He said he finally found someone when he stopped worrying about the type of person he should be with and focused more on how he felt around the woman in question. "So," I replied, "what you're saying is that I shouldn't (hypothetically speaking) write off the 23-year-old bus-boy/smokin' salsa dancer because he lives with his parents and is, technically, still married?"

Then I asked Mojo Rising if he was dating anyone and the look that passed across his face told me everything I needed to know.

It said, "Am I dating someone? What constitutes dating? Do I need to share this information? Should I be doing _____ with ______ and/or ____? Why the hell not?! It's fun! But I wouldn't call it dating. So, how should I answer this....hmmmm....a burrito for lunch sounds good."

I told him that his face read like a book and he could never get away with lying to a woman. Then he accused me of being a lesbian and suggested that I stop being so snobby.

Just for today, I can learn about dating from men at work.

Today, while I was walking around Trader Joe's in search of Stevia, a guy approached me and said, "I know this is crazy, but you're really beautiful and I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee with me." Of course, I had just come from yoga (where I had sweated like a dog) and was wearing my booty-flab revealing yoga pants (it must have been the way my mascara was running down my face or that yoga room must). Naturally, I was so overwhelmed by the positive attention and the sincerity that I did the thing people with negative self-images do when presented with a contrary perspective....I lied.

"Thank you so very much, but I'm in a relationship."

Then I beat the hell out of the frozen food section like a bank robber looking for her get away car. I took a breather in the wine aisle to take stock of the Pinot, as well as my moral character. Giving guys false phone numbers was funny for about five minutes in college, but I'm 35 and overly-single! What's my problema?! He wasn't a bad looking guy and, I had to admit, I admired his courage and forthrightness. Was it really that I was afraid that the eggs would go bad in the trunk while I met the guy for coffee (really, I can spare another $1.50)? Or, that it would throw off my Saturday afternoon Target run (I did need new sponges for my Sunday cleaning blowout)...? No, the truth is that I am a coward and (when pressed) a damn good liar. But maybe I'm being too hard on myself, I thought. Maybe I should go back and tell him the truth...perhaps this is my big chance? At this point, he reappeared. I must have been wearing an intense, "Are you stalking me?" expression, because he immediately said:

"I'm not following you, but I just wanted to say that whoever you're with is a lucky guy."

"Thank you," I responded (with my head drooped down over my frozen chow mein), and proceeded to book it to the check out counter. I should have said, "He's not that lucky...not only is he imaginary, but he's dating a liar!"

I told my friend about the experience tonight and he concurred that I should have gone for it. He suggested, claiming that people's shopping habits are usually ritualized, that I go back next Saturday and wander the aisles casually until I see him. If I don't, he suggested I put up a sign, "Yoga Pants Lady In Search of Coffee Guy."

The shame of my own duplicity and wimpiness is, to say the least, humbling. Did I blow my chance of happiness and love at Trader Joe's? Who knows...if I didn't meet my soul mate, I did get to meet my own cowardice head on.

Just for today, I am humbled.

I told my therapist that the guys that I'm attracting these days aren't "appropriate." She says that there's no such thing. Whatever. Everyone knows that it's against the law for a therapist to judge...

When I was in my mid-twenties I seemed to attract a "different" type of guy. I won't say better or worse (because I'm in therapy), but I will throw out some words like "job" and "functioning car" and "financial independence" to describe the guys I dated. In general, they tended to be older and established in their careers, or at the very least created the aura of being established in something worthwhile. They paid for dinner and stressed about their very important seeming jobs. They were "appropriate," [i.e., resembled some idea I had - and many people share - of the sort of person a single woman should seek to marry and settle down with (which is odd because I had no intention of doing that then nor do I seem to now...)]. I had friends who liked to fall in love with unemployed musicians or actors who maybe smoked pot and/or borrowed money and were possibly smokin' hot, but I just didn't get it. Poor them, I thought. They had to buy their own dinners.

Well, flash forward ten years and suddenly not only would I rather pay for my own dinner, but the men popping up in my life are two things they've never been before "young" and "very young." I rarely liked guys my own age, let alone younger. Their cars don't have all the original parts (or any) and they are struggling to figure out what to establish themselves in. While every other aspect of my life (career, health, happiness) seems to be thriving more than ever before, I'm suddenly faced with this weird lack of interest in a rational choice of men...(hey, at least give me kudos for my honesty). Like the song says,..."What's going on?!"

Just for today, I have no answers, only questions.

I went home to visit family and friends this weekend and ended up going out to dinner two nights in a row with two separate Couple Friend(s) (are they units?). On BOTH occasions, my Couple Friend(s) pulled the ole Secret Blind Date stint, characterized beautifully on the first episode of Sex and the City (LOVE THAT SHOW!), by busting out with a Surprise Mystery Guest (who happens to be male and single) and not telling me till the last possible moment (as in, the second I arrived at the house/restaurant)...ok, so, uh, no weirdness here...(did I mention this happened two nights in a row?!)...

With all due respect to my beloved Friend(s), whatever happened to the Awkward Third Wheel Dinner Date? It used to be cool (or maybe just in my head) for me to hang out with my girlfriend and her husband/boyfriend, or my girlfriend and guyfriend (who are now equally friends of mine because after he moved to Pheonix she and I hung out), without a sorta-date hanging around. Is my single company so loathsome to my Couple Friend(s) that they must scramble through their index of Single Guy Friends just to share some cider and fried calamari (or Pinot and Herb Chicken)? I have to say, in regards to these fine young men, I was not the picture of open-mindedness...about as open as the book of Wordsworth poems from college that decorates my bookshelf and that I cracked maybe once in fifteen years (I took the class because poems are short...FYI: "Romantic" poetry is not about love, but blades of grass, streams, and repressed male homosexual longings...so boring...). In other words, at one point, my one engaged friend leaned over said, "You just don't seem like you're looking for a relationship..."

Did I mention that I hate being set up?

Just for today, I can have dinner with Couple Friend(s), and their Single Male Friends.

I am loathe to date for some very good reasons: it sucks, and I hate it.

Still, there is a lot to be said for the ability to simultaneously participate in quality conversation and covert inspection. I realized yesterday that my problem in the past has been 1) not dating someone who I eventually deemed "my soul mate," (if I had, those relationships never would've happened) and 2) (when I do date) letting the conversation get all serious and deep right off the bat. You order your coffee (or dinner or breakfast) and before the caffeine has even kicked in...BAM!, Past Relationships! God! Children! Private or Public School?...weird awkward silence ensues (also, you gotta keep these things short), while I create an imaginary friend that I was supposed to help move five minutes ago...

So, that's why I don't date. That, plus the fact that nobody is attractive to me [(except George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Mark Ruffalo (my boyfriend)].

This time, I kept the conversation simple. Mexican Food. Honda Civics. Bike Riding. It's just coffee. He's not my soul mate. Maybe he can be my friend. (Otherwise, I'm not doing it...).

Just for today, I can learn how to date.

My friend told me that I don't give guys a chance.

There seems to be two camps among my female population of friends. First, there's the Give Him A Chance group (my friend) who believe in things like "duty dating," "being open-minded," and treating dates as opportunity to practice initiating conversation on vanilla topics (traffic on the 405, best picture nominations, and sushi), and not the inappropriate topics I manage to incite (past relationships, therapy sessions, and IBS).

Then there's the First Five Seconds group who tend to be a lot racier and believe in things like instincts (as in "you know in the first five seconds") and not wasting the time and money of people for the sake of practicing your conversation skills, or hoping to make a "new friend." Men, according to the First Five Seconds, aren't interested in developing friendships with women.

One group is kind of PollyAna, the other kind of slutty.

Putting aside the interesting development that men in my generation have become metrosexualized/feminized to the point of mass confusion (a boon for the stray Alpha Male...), in the end, it's all one big amorphous plot to validate my pervading sense of rejection (what's up with all the SAT words?...).

I hate to sound like the beginning of a bad romantic comedy, but, if and when I do "meet someone," (just figured out that this is a euephemism for someone you want to sleep with...why did it take me 35 years?) it's just going to be one long painful road to rejection. Either rejecting or being rejected. Even if you're married and committed till the day said person dies (unless I have the good fortune of keeling over first, at which point I'll have to watch his dating practices in fear and judgement from other side), there's still always that last thought "...was our relationship not reason enough to keep living?"

And that's why I think dating is stupid (I know I sound like a ten-year-old).

Just for today, I can be honest about my cynical views on dating.

According to this research study, men are highly confused by women (and this is news?).

Today, while my Eyebrow Lady did her best to control nature, my Persian Hairdresser of 13 years threatened to go salsa dancing with me some night.

"You have to promise that you won't fall in love with me."

Just FYI, he says stuff like this all the time. However, I have always written it off as part of his Persian Male Syndrome, a half-joking attempt to steer all conversations back to the only topic on his mind, sex .

"You seriously think I could fall in love with you?"

"I think there's potential..." he said in a tone that I realized, to my dismay, was totally serious. Uh...clueless?! I think so.

I, on the other hand, have serious loyalty issues when it comes to things related to my body, feet, hair, and other areas. I don't care who you've voted for in the last election (Republican Doctor), how many people you sleep with (Persian Hairdresser), or what you say about my skin (Facialist), the incumbent is always my favorite (yes, I KNOW this doesn't bode well for relationships). So, despite his constant sexual innuendo/I'm a Persian male babble, I have always remained loyal to person who told me I looked good with a Pat Benatar circa 94 hair style (he also told me I looked good in blond highlights which Eyebrow Lady said put ten years on me...).

So, despite my issues (who wants to deal with those) after reading this article, I can now see that he really thinks that I've been exhibiting great restraint for 13 years (It really takes a long time to get to know someone). I have found that the best way to hammer some reality into the egg scramble of men's brains is to be as direct and brutally honest as possible.

"I don't now, nor will I ever, desire to sleep with you."

"The idea of sex with you makes me think of maggots, puke, and dead beached seals altogether."

"Did you ever see A Beautiful Mind?"

As proven by Relented Salsero , with time and perseverance, some hopeful few maybe get the picture.

Just for today, I can accept that guys are clueless.

Last night, I managed to tear myself away from my intense Salsa Schedule to go out on a Real Date.

Conversation. Wine. Appetizers. No body rolls, exchange of body slime, or grinding. Boring, but in a good way.

Still, I wanted to make it to the club before midnight, and I tried not to be obvious about glancing at my watch. And this is someone I like! Doesn't bode well for a relationship, but at least I have other interests.

Anyway, we were done by 11:00 and I was free to pursue my addiction.

Just for today, I can date.

Last night, I gave my mom a tour of my Web 2.0 Life: Facebook, LinkedIn, MySpace, and all my pictures from the past year. This tour gave her an introduction into my world and of some of my many fabulous eligible, single male friends.

"Who's that?"

"Oh, that's Pesian Surgeon...he does liver transplants on children and is super nice."

"Is he single?"

"Yes."

She nodded her head like I had just thrown diamonds into the toilet, or lost my retainer (which happened twice that I can remember)...My life, a trajectory of wasted opportunities...

"If they're so great, why are they JUST your friends?"

What she doesn't understand are the...Reasons Why I'm (Still) Single

1) Standards! - Yes, mom, I have some. My friend Eddie said, that once you develop standards you stop getting laid. Sure, anyone can reach a point of desperation where they're willing to settle for someone more desperate than themselves...(or just plain wrong).

2) Lack of age-appropriate candidates - Time and again, it's been proven that after a certain age (30?) single men are single for a reason. A good one. If a guy has the capacity to have a relationship, he will have one by then. Consequently, single women in their mid-30's are left to fare with guys significantly older or younger.

The other night I met a guy holding all of the conventional credentials of "Normal": good college, good job...I walked up to Jewish American Salsera and said, "I met a Normal Guy!" However, when I googled him (I confess) I found out that he's (drum roll)...25! (game show wrong answer music cue). The rule is any number past 9 in either direction, is too old or young. (27 - 45). Hopes dashed, yet again.

3) Salsa - "Part of the reason why I don't think I'll find a relationship, is that I don't think I really want one," I told my friend on the phone as I drove from Los Angeles to the Bay Area (Because of the rain and holiday, the trip took me 8 hours and I spent most of it on my phone). Even in my pre-salsa life, basing my life happiness on one person seemed like a losing proposition ...more on this to come in my book "Soy Salsera," due in 2010 (I'm trying to be positive). Salsa has made me much less desperate and driven to find a relationship.

4) Lack of Role Models - Yes, I came from a broken dysfunction home. However, there are more married people in the world besides my parents. The problem is that when people travel to Planet Married they don't take single people with them. I have no idea if any couples are happy or not because it's all very domestically blissfully quiet about the relationship until things are really bad.

5) Free Time - According to Marriage, A History when women get married they have less free time and do more housework, and when men get married they do less housework and have more free time.

Just for today, I am (still) single.

I was talking to my friend last night about the dearth of available men in an appropriate age bracket (for me). The word "dearth" just so happens to be one of my favorite words in the dictionary. Which probably has a lot to do with why I have so many reasons to use it. So, please don't take offense if you are an available awesome age-appropriate (30ish) male. For me, dating is just another reason to use my favorite word.

I told her that I'm trying to be "open," and how when you leave the door open you never know who might walk in. For her, it's Nebish-y Jewish men, which is an astronomically far cry from her "type" which she has always claimed to be "hot black guys."

I don't know what my type is, but if I'm going to be open, I better be open to the Nebbish...

Just for today, I can bring on the nebbish.

Food Guy and I went out for a chai latte today to talk about my (pathetic) personal life. I told him about all the annoying things the last guy I dated did, and he agreed that those are all the things he does on a regular basis. Phew, at least Food Guy is normal! So, I went on to pump him for information.

"Do guys like it when they think that other guys are interested?"

"No, that works more with girls. Guys don't really care what other guys think."

Ok, cross Try To Seem Popular off the list.

"Sometimes, I like it when I'm the only one who thinks a girl is hot," he went on.

Wow, Food Guy is giving great insight!

"What about when a guy calls and says, 'Just wanted to see what you're up to?' but doesn't make any plans," I asked.

"He's just hedging his bets."

Damn...that's what I thought!

I came away from our Chai Latte Talk realizing that in 36 years, I haven't gained much insight into the opposite sex. In fact, I think I'm going in the opposite direction. Too much therapy is making me lose my game. Note to self: have more Guy Talks with Food Guy.

Just for today, I can try to understand men.

Today, I had lunch with people from work. We were sitting near a table that hosted a two-year-old boy, a woman who looked like his mother and a man who looked about 80. I started a flirtatious eyeball game with the two-year-old and the mother later jokingly asked me if I was single. When I got up the old man told my co-workers that he found me attractive. Is that what happens when you're single and 37? Is it all about the toddlers and geriatrics from here on out? I don't judge dating outside of your age bracket, but I just don't think it would fly with my family (not to mention the law).

Just for today, I can contemplate my dating options at 37.

I signed up for Match.com a few months ago as a testament to the universe that I'm willing to judge strange men's dating profiles within the safe confines of my apartment...oh wait, I meant be open to the possibility of a relationship (whoops).

However, after a few weeks I had to turn my profile off because if I got anymore messages from 53-year-old Looking4U2010 from Orange (where is that? so many cities I've never heard of), I was ready to sue Match.com for plotting to put me into such a dark state that I fly to Vegas with the next guy that winks at me.

I changed my picture, made my profile less angry-bitter-woman-like (whoops again) and, lately, things seem to have gotten better. And by better, I don't mean to suggest that I've gone on dates or even talked to these guys on the phone. I mean, I don't sign on to Match.com and consider switching teams (do women ever really switch teams? I think that's a dude thing...) or a life of celibacy. As of late, I've gotten some interest from age-appropriate, location-appropriate, and sort of humanly appropriate guys. A few profess that they "don't want drama" (i.e. they LOVE the drama), or any Hoochie girls (who doesn't love the hoochie girls?). The hardest type of guy to meet in LA, I have found, is someone my own age. The young guys seem to see me as the older, experienced woman they can show affection towards because God knows it won't last, and the fifty-year-olds see my age group as their birthright, but I'm too old to find older guys interesting. But the guys my age avoid me like the plague. I don't blame them, as I don't want to be with anyone who see's right through my credentials into the Cindy Lauper-worshipping, Wet n' Wild lipstick-wearing (and shoplifting) 13-year-old who came out of Purple Rain spiritually transformed, and, thus, whom I could never really have power over.

Boy, this blog got off track....

Just for today, I can consider dating online.

...but the energy is out there. I must be sending out some signals because a lot more attractive men have approached me lately. Male attention, I have found, has little to do with age or beauty. It's not even perfume, tight-fitting clothing, or pheromones. I think it's invisible sound waves that only men can hear, kind of like a dog whistle.

Yesterday, I met a guy at the deli who works as a investment banker graduated from Stanford. Very cute. And very young. Unfortunately, we quickly hit the twenty-something wall of inexperience that renders the hottest guys into little babies. Yes, your job title sounds really important, and I know Santa Claus isn't real. I only want to be a mommy to people who come out of my vagina. (Also, why I don't have cats).

Then there was Farmer's Market Guy. Very hot. Not too young. And polite. A little too polite in a shifty-eyed Eddie Haskell way. All I need is one "You look beautiful," and maybe one "I like your outfit," and I'm set. Anymore, and he's a mack truck in line with David Duchovny at the rehab center, and I'm officially creeped out.

A few weeks, there was Coffee Shop Guy, who I realized I liked inside the coffee shop, but not when he walked me to my car. (That probably won't work for a relationship.) There was also Swimming Pool Guy, (Please Note: I don't know where I have been because...THE SWIMMING POOL IS THE BEST PLACE TO MEET GUYS), but he only wants to swim in the fast lane.

Ok, so maybe I'm a little like a bed of nails. More like tacks turned upside down. There's gotta be somebody out there who likes porcupines.

Seriously, though, I'm talking to strange men and not assuming that they are serial killers. At least not right away. This is progress.

Just for today, I'm open to meeting guys.

I've been "Over 35" for three whole years and, yet, when Older Dudes smile at me, I get a little uncomfortable. And by "Older Dudes" I mean men who are ten years older than myself (by most accounts, I've been an Older Woman for at least five years) I can't help but think...he could have been my father twenty years ago?! I know Demi and Ashton and Michael and Catherine, and Older Successful Man, and Young Cute Thing make it work all the time...or do they? I'll never know...I'm holding out for someone who understands what it meant to wake up at 6:00 am on Saturday morning in 1978 (Superheroes).

Bottom Line: I'm in a new age bracket for dating.

If men over 45 ever hit on me when I was in my twenties, I never noticed. I thought they were being fatherly...my mistake.

Just for today, I'm becoming "mature." (Saying "getting old" is too much reality).

Last night, while driving home from salsa at 2:00 am, I found myself sitting at a Punishment Light (an endlessly long red light) next to a beige Kia in which sat a White Male giving me the Full Serial Killer Stare Off. He looked like a cuter Ted Bundy with more method acting training. I tried fidgeting with my phone, but every time I glanced over he was still at it.

"Roll down your window," he yelled.

"You're making me very uncomfortable," I told him.

"Where are you going?"

To a police station?

"Home."

"Where's that?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

Because you're scary.

"Do you have any wine at home?"

Best case scenario: he's a sociopath who picks up women at 2:00 am on Sunday mornings and then takes him to his house where he keeps them in a hole in the basement. Worst case scenario: dating in Los Angeles has devolved to this state of affairs, and Ted Bundy's twin picks up women at Punishment Lights because IT'S WORKED IN THE PAST. I can't believe I'd be happier to know that he was a Serial Killer.

Whatever he is, he turned left and I turned down a street that doesn't lead home, while I worked on better one liners for turning down his offer.

"I'd love to open that Malbec and hear about your escape from the penitentiary, but I do have to work tomorrow." (Work? Total lie.).

"I don't think wine and lithium mix very well..."

"Have you studied Meisner or Stanislavski?"

Just for today, I'm scared of single white males.

It's tough being a Single Woman Over A Certain Age. You make people uncomfortable. (People = Non Single Women + Mom).

We live in a world where a person can sell a gun to a young, emotionally volatile white male with a history of erratic anti-social behavior, but you can't talk to a woman between the age of 35 and 40 for five minutes without a) inquiring about her single relationship status and b) treating it like a stick of plutonium that was dropped in a port-a-potty.

So, I signed up (again) for that giant sociological experiment of self-generating research and massive profits also known as "Match.com." However, because it took a few days for me to work through my commitment issues to pay for this "service" (why aren't they paying me to be on it?), I got a "wink" from a few people whose profiles I didn't have access to.

This is the message Match.com sent me.

"He just winked at you! Out of millions of member he picked you!"

Seriously...Match.com...Do you really expect me to believe that I'm the only one to inspire the effort of clicking on a mouse? And in keeping with the name "Match.com," does anyone have millions to choose from?!

Then I got some emails. Here is the message they sent.

"Something about you caught his eye. Hurry!…Find Out Who Emailed You and Connect Today!

Caught his eye? You mean he wasn't stunned by my brilliant headline? Hurry?! Why? Because I'm 38? Is The One in a hurry, too? Did he have commitment issues shelling out $70?

Match needs a new copywriter.

"Relationships take time...don't get your hopes up right away."

Or...

"You live in a different age than your mother...tell her it's none of her business and keep an open mind."

Or even...

"You get points for trying. So, what if nothing is going on here? Open that Malbec and relax!"

Ok, I need to work on some of these.

Just for today, I'm happy being single.

I joined a new dating website. Holy shit, this stuff is complicated! It seems we have officially entered the Modern Era of Casualness and Creepy Weirdness Via Technology. On the progressive front, dating sites now "get" that people who date are confused, highly flawed, possibly delusional, either seeking The Perfect Relationship, or The Perfect Casual Encounter, and may have predilections towards a dozen perversions, and who are they to judge? The Creepy News is that the whole Non-Judgmental Thing gets to be a bit much. "Would you mind if your partner looked at CGI child porn?" Not only would I mind him doing that, I mind knowing finding out that such a thing exists!

Evidently, though, a philosophy of "acceptance" is not only the underlying foundation to a 12-step recovery, but to building a successful dating site business model. Nonetheless, can we still call it "dating?"

Ok, so I signed up and the fun starts. Going on dates? No! Personality tests!

So, I started answering a few questions that range from spelling tests, to how many children I want, to how I feel about gay marriage. A lot of sexual questions seemed unsafe for a woman to publicly answer, but good to ask myself. I quickly saw my results that showed that I am "Less Mathematical" (I either forgot or never knew percentages). Strangely, I am also "Old Fashioned" (there were no questions geared towards Women Seeking a Baby Daddy, but I did answer "Yes" to "Do you believe in monogamy?") I also found out that I am "Scientific" (I got a C in Physics), and "More Adventurous" (I did recently discover a new Trader Joe's).

And then things went south. Several questions later, my results indicated that I am "Less Kind" and "Less Trusting." Nothing showed that I am "More Honest," but I have to wonder if that's the case.

So, how is this helping me?

Just for today, I'm seriously confused by dating.

As part of a personal ongoing sociology study, coupled with a perverse desire to disprove the theory that Los Angeles is a terrible (or "the worst") dating scene in the country (according to 80% of friends polled), I have kept my profile up on a nameless Dating Site (okcupid.com).

If nothing else, perusing profiles is fascinating.

Men (on the site) seem to come in two groups: Low Self Esteem, and Irrationally High Self Esteem. Of course, there are also the I'm Just A Regular Guy guys, but that's usually a foil for the Irrationally High Self Esteem guys who feel some guilt about having been blessed with so many gifts. However, I have been struck by the overwhelming evidence that confidence abounds amongst LA dudes.

"Badass Alpha Male!"

"Witty, handsome, intelligent, talented, and cool guy."

I haven't spent any time on the lady's profiles, but I can't imagine coming across too many overconfident women.

"Gorgeous, hot, brilliant and down-to-earth Goddess seeks Badass Alpha Male!"

It's worth a shot.

One guy in his twenties straight-up propositioned me for sex.

He wrote: "Hey! Do you want to have some fun?"

I wrote: "If by 'fun' you're referring to activities like going out to movies, concerts, and restaurants, or bike riding and para-sailing...yes, by all mean. If by fun, you actually mean awkward, drunk and naked groping, I don't think I'm your older woman...but I'm sure she's out there."

However, he didn't get that message, so he contacted me a second time, thereby, giving me another awesome opportunity to exercise my sense of irony.

"It's not your thing. That's cool."

Then, for some reason, I tried to find out what (other) things he was interested in. As it turned out, he didn't care to share.

My mistake. Next!

Just for today, I have a profile on a dating site.