Fans Take Over

You might have noticed from my Facebook and Twitter pages that lately I’ve been asking an awful lot of questions pertaining to dating and relationships. They are by no means random. Every one of them was spurred from a man that I met or a dating conundrum I was in. As this project passes its second year of existence (thus taking over my personal life completely) I’ve been forced to re-examine many of my outlooks on life, love, and relationships. I have said from the start that I began 100 Cups of Coffee to learn about myself - what I want, what I don’t want, what I’m willing to settle for and what I can’t live without. I can safely say that I now know myself better than I ever did before because I’ve taken the time to ask these questions and really, truly reflect on the answers. I have not glazed over any passing thoughts. Rather, I’ve given them the respect they deserve with honest contemplation. I have taken no experience for granted, but appreciated each one, however insane they may appear at the time. Every date, every man, every question leads to a lesson learned. 

But today is not about the questions I’ve asked. It’s about the answers YOU want to know. For 24 hours, I allowed readers to take over my blog, asking me anything and everything...no holds barred. Here are some of my favorites:

Kelly: Why so many questions?????

If two heads are better than one, than 3,200 are much better! I’m not ashamed to admit when I don’t know what to do. Life is a learning curve. How better to equip oneself than getting the opinions of 13 or 29 or 55 other women who are in my shoes, have already been where I am, or who may follow in my footsteps and need some guidance along the way!

Janice: How old are you?

I will be celebrating the first anniversary of my thirtieth birthday in one short month! Seems like only yesterday I was turning thirty but I have to say, this has been a very eventful year, full of twists and turns I could never have predicted. I am very much looking forward to whatever 31 has to offer!

Dolores: So what do you look for in a man? Do you have a specific look or is it just that "something" that catches your eye?

Looks-wise, not particularly. I don’t care what color hair or eyes he has. I don’t even care if he has any! (Ummm, hair. Not eyes. I think a man with no hair can be sexy. A man with no eyes would be freaking weird!)

I will tell you that I’m 5’9 so I “prefer” a man who is taller than me. There is something so reassuring about a man wrapping his strong arms around you and feeling safe and small inside of them. Plus, short guys are harder to dance with.

I think that the thing that catches my eye most is his personality. Do we click right away? Is there instant chemistry? An undeniable attraction? A deeper connection? If so, any man can be sexy. I don’t judge. 

Unless Matt Bomer is available. He is SO my type!!!

Celina: Have you ever had sex on a first date?

Definitely not, but I like that you went right in for the scandalous! Of the 97 Cups so far, I’ve only kissed five and slept with one (being Kit). I know this makes me sound like a prude but believe me, I am a girl that loves to kiss! I think that both kisses and sex should be reserved for someone special though so I tend to hold that back until I’m sure he’s worth it. If you’ve read this blog at all, you know that most of them are not!

Krista: Have you ever been forced to pay the bill because he refused?

There was one guy waaaay back in the beginning of this blog that I met for an afternoon date. I brought a gorgeous picnic basket filled with goodies from the Italian market. Bread, olive oil for dipping, hard cheeses, nuts, salami, marinated olives, pastries, and sparkling lemonade. It was delectable. That was my contribution. His portion of the date was taking us for mini golf which was $7. We finished our lunch, walked over to the golf course and he pulled out his wallet. He said “I only have a ten so I can pay for me and half of you.” HALF OF ME??? What the fuck is that? Which half did you want to pay for asshole? The top half of me that will be swinging the club at you or the bottom half of me that can’t wait to run away?

Bridget: Have you ever gotten up and left right in the middle of a date just because it was that awful?

I have been on some truly awful dates. Dates that other people would have run away screaming from long before I did. I held out whenever possible mostly for the sake of the blog. When things got really bad, I just kept saying to myself “Writing material, writing material, writing material...” and I could stick it out. The only time I took my mother up on her offer of a rescue call was the guy who had:

1. smelled my hair when we met
2. a receding hairline 
3. bifocal glasses 
4. four layers of clothing on 
5. nothing to talk about besides work 
6. had only moved out of his parents house at the age of 33 
7. never left his own town and had no clue where I lived which was only ten minutes away 
8. thought that cooking a hamburger on his own made us “food compatible” and my personal favorite 
9. wrote a cheat sheet on his hand so he would remember all the things he wanted to talk to me about. 

Hi Mom. Rescue call please???

For the whole date, read here: Cheat Sheet

Courtney: Can you have passion and get along with someone on other levels? 

Ab-so-freakin-lutely!!! Actually, it would scare me more if you didn’t have all the things you wanted in one person. Do you have to compromise in relationships? Yes. You do. You have to compromise watching Dancing With the Stars and the Hockey play-offs. That means DVR’ing one show and watching the other live. It does NOT mean compromising who you are and what you want out of a partner. You should be intellectually, spiritually, AND physically compatible with your boyfriend / girlfriend. If any of these things are missing (and none is more important that either of the others) the relationship will not work. There should be a balance. Balance is one of my keywords!

This is not to say you can’t have great sex with someone you have mediocre conversations with. You can. It’s also not to say that you can’t have great conversations with someone you have very little interested in sleeping with. Again, it’s possible. But imagine how fantastic it would be to find a man you can talk to, laugh with, and who gives you the most incredible orgasms of your life. That’s the perfect combination to me. 

This man --- and he does exist --- should be a great friend, someone who intrigues you, someone who gets your jokes, someone you can learn from, someone who makes you want to be a better person, someone who can be trusted, and someone who makes your knees weak with every kiss.

Charlene: Where is the weirdest place you got asked to go?

In the past week I got asked to go out on two first dates. One to (wait for it)... Walmart ... and another to a funeral in another state!

Ps: I didn't go...all I could do was shake my head and walk away!

I attended a date’s friend’s baby’s Christening on a first date. His entire family was there and he didn’t want to be the single guy at yet another party so he asked me to come along. We had a very nice time and I definitely thought there was something more there but I got sick at the end of the night (new medication mixed with too much Chardonnay and not enough lunch) and we haven’t spoken since. I called him the next day to apologize for not feeling well and say what a nice time I was having before then but despite his chivalry and incredibly gracious nature in taking me home from the event, he didn’t ask for a second date. That sucked. 

Kimberly: Quick questions - 1. How do you read "your story"??? I've seen you mention Kit and get the general idea of what happened, but do you have it written somewhere on your blog or here? I would love to read it and be able to share it with my single friends.

If you want to read about Kit & I dating, go to May through August 2011. If you want to read about us breaking up, pretty much anything in September / October sums up that experience. There are A LOT of missing pieces. I was so busy being in love that I barely blogged over the summer but the Cliff’s Notes version can be found on my Facebook page from that time period (if TimeLine lets you scroll back til then?!) I also didn’t blog about the break-up nearly as much as I could have because I was hurting and healing, but it will most likely turn into a book of some sort after this project is over. I’m really glad you and your friends can relate to everything I went through. You are just the sort of ladies I’m writing for!

The first Kit entry is here: Say Cheese

2. When you've gone through something like that, do you suggest some sort of counseling or just getting "back in the saddle" as soon as possible?

In answer to your other question, I definitely suggest taking some time to heal your heart. I wrote a blog fairly recently that I dedicated to four of my girlfriends who were going through bad break ups around the same time I was. There is not necessarily a universal twelve step program for getting over a relationship but you must must must take the time to mourn. A break up is like a death. There are stages of grieving and you’ve got to allow yourself to go through all of them. In my honest opinion, if you try jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, you’re only going to get burned.

My answers to recovering from a bad break up: This One's For the Girls

Bambi: So have you figured out why men cheat and lie?

Men cheat because they can. They lie so they don’t get caught.

Punishment for Men

Dear Kim, 


I recently read your posts about Leap Day and the traditions of a woman proposing marriage (or in this case, a date) to a man. You calling up Mike and asking him out on a date was so inspirational for me. I was really proud of you for mustering that much courage and just going for it! Your journey has been an incredible thing to watch and I love reading the stories you tell, be it about heartbreak, joy, doubt, faith, tears, trials, trust, hope, love, or just good old fashioned craziness. You've moved me to ask out my own Prince Charming (here's hoping he says YES!) 


I was so impressed with your tenacity that I wanted to investigate the folklore further on my own. You'd be shocked at what I came up with!


There was a series of 13 postcards published on Slate depicting lady's proposals dating all the way back to 1907. Women who took part in custom had all of Leap Year to do so, not just the day. That aside, they were often ridiculed, publicly shamed, and persecuted for their brazenness and audacity at asking for a man's hand. If a woman so much as asked a man to dance, she was instantly made the butt of the town jokes, having everything from her appearance degraded to her character questioned. These women were considered the worst sort of desperate. Look at some of the postcard descriptors:


Marriage is a raw deal for men no matter the appearance of one’s potential bride. 


Any woman with a strong personality probably also has a face like a troll.


The notion of marriage as punishment for men...


The practice of allowing women to propose marriage not only emasculates men but also dehumanizes them. Apparently, what women really want is for their husbands to be glorified house pets.


Leap-year-proposal postcards enforced a double standard by valorizing bachelors at the same time that they depicted unmarried women as undesirable. 


Leap-year-postcard artists often drew women resorting to violence in their attempts to get a man to marry them and showed women as bigger, stronger, and more forceful than men. “These domineering women were commonly depicted as unattractive aggressors.”


A woman who asks for what she wants: the ultimate boner-killer.


I'm just wondering what your take on all these postcards and captions are, being a woman who is clearly not afraid to take charge and ask for what she wants?


Thanks for sharing your exceptional writing with the world. Keep at it! We're all rooting for you, 


Katherine




Dear Katherine,


Firstly, thank you for reading my blog and for the kind words about my Leap Day experiment. It wasn't easy getting up the courage to ask out a complete stranger, but I must admit that I probably had the best experience anyone could hope to have in that situation. Mike was fun and witty and charming to talk to. He made me laugh and was so easy going that I knew asking him out was the right decision. I can't say that I'm quite so brazen in person. I've never just walked up to a man I didn't know and asked him out on the spot! (I did sneak my number into the back pocket of a cute guy at a club once. Could not bring myself to talk to him. Was a chicken shit back then. Am much braver now!)


I think that I just kept telling myself: What's the worst thing that could happen? He says no? So what? I don't know this guy from a hole in the wall. He might like me, he might not. But I'll never know unless I take that chance. The reward is always worth the risk. You've got to put yourself out there. You simply have to. 


Oh, and please let me know what happens with your date! I think it's great that you're making a move. Be confident. Be strong. Be fun and flirty and interesting. Asking someone out is NOT a sign of desperation. It just means you're a woman who knows what she wants and there is nothing wrong with that!


As for these postcards, I really had to allow my blood to stop boiling before I could respond. For them to say that a woman who knows what she wants is a boner-killer?!?! Who are they kidding? Ask ANY guy who he enjoys being with in the bedroom and he'll say "A woman who knows what she wants!" We are a decisive bunch who can tell you what we're looking for and how to give it to us. That just means we never have to fake it!


"Forceful, domineering, unattractive aggressors..." is the most ridiculous line of bull shit I have ever heard! Think about all the female friends in your life. Perhaps some of them sat back and waited for men to approach them. Perhaps they entertained the idea that love would just fall into their laps. Perhaps they thought that the only men they deserved to be with were men who wanted them first, made the first move, and they are entitled to that opinion. I am a woman who runs at life with arms wide open and that includes embracing love. If there's a man that catches my eye, you can be damn sure I'm letting him know. That doesn't make me unattractive. That makes those other girls wimps!


I think that the caption about bachelors being valiant while unmarried women are undesirable is positively hilarious. There are plenty of undesirable people in this world, but whether they are married or not has little bearing on that fact. 


Marriage being a "raw deal" or "punishment" for men is complete and utter bull shit! There are multiple studies that show married men benefit from longer lives, better health, greater financial security, better sex, and overall greater happiness compared to their single counterparts at every age! Marriage (in my opinion) is the thing that keeps men sane. Ask just about any middle-aged guy (even the ones who complain) and chances are he wouldn't have a clue what he'd do without his wife...and he likely never wants to find out.


This brings us to my favorite of these quotes: Any woman with a strong personality probably also has a face like a troll. I promise you that I do not now, nor have I ever lived under a bridge, guarded a castle, or eaten a small child. For men, a woman's beauty is her strength. For me, a woman's strength is her beauty.


There's a reason it's 2012 and not 1907 anymore. These outdated notions of female helplessness are long gone. It's amazing the difference 100 years makes. I wonder what people in the next century will think of us?


Happy Dating, 


Kimberly

A Mike of My Own

There are very few things I am certain of in this world. I'm not certain what hair color looks best on me. I'm not certain I will ever lose those extra twenty pounds. I'm not certain my books will get published, my apartment will ever be clean or I will learn to make minute rice.

I am certain that I am supposed to marry a man named Mike.

(No pressure, right???)

This might sound crazy to you. How can someone know the name of the person they're supposed to marry? If we all knew that, wouldn't we only date people with that name? Well, that would make sense but it's not always so easy. Not everyone gets the completely trustworthy information I got from a 100% reliable source: a gypsy woman in Little Italy.

I know, I know, where else would I learn this sort of detail about my future life? Doesn't everyone get their palms read by street corner gypsies? If not, you should be! Best $5 I ever spent.

Ok, fine, the cost factor aside, here's what happened: I was walking down Hester Street in Little Italy one summer night with my boyfriend (please note, we're going back several years here.) We had just gotten hazelnut gelato at Cafe Bella Ferrara and as I'm kind of a clutz, we were not holding hands. I have the innate ability to create messes everywhere I go. Throw melty, creamy desserts into the mix and I'm a walking disaster waiting to happen. We were walking and talking and approaching this lady who was sitting at a small makeshift table on the corner of Hester and Mulberry. She smiled up at me and asked if I'd like to have my palm read. I showed her the ice cream cone and she said, "That's ok, you hold it in one hand and I'll just read the other." I was hesitant but she promised it would be quick.

Right off the bat, she astonished me. She knew about some of the crazy dreams I have and my connection to relatives who've passed. She knew the struggles of my divorce and the strain it had put on my faith. She knew how close I was with my family and how I'd already changed careers at such a young age. Basically, she was spot on about my past.

Then she looked at me kinda sideways and told me not to worry, there was love in my future as well. "Your husband's name is Mike," she said profoundly. "How do you know that?" I asked. "I can see it right here in your hand," she showed me, tracing the M with her pinky. "M for Mike."

"Any chance it could be Mark?" I questioned. (Mark being my boyfriend at the time.)

"No, it is definitely Mike," replied the gypsy calmly.

"Any chance it could be Matt?" demanded Mark. (His best friend is Matt and we've always had a flirty chemistry.)

"No. It is definitely not Mark and it is definitely not Matt. It is Mike. The man you will marry is called Mike." She said it as thought she were explaining the difference to me between black and white. This is just how the world is and that's all there is to it.

Mark stormed off down the block.

My face fell. I was confused, crushed, and now had an angry boyfriend and a melted gelato cone. "I don't know any Mike," I half-heartedly replied with my face towards the ground. She tilted my chin up towards her sparkling eyes, looking right at me with the intensity of age old wisdom. "You will," smiled the gypsy.

I paid her the five dollars and threw the remnants of my dessert in the trash. I wasn't sure which had faded faster: the ice cream in the heat of that August night, or my faith in the relationship I had with Mark that he would someday be my husband.

Fast forward two weeks and a shocking phone call later. My four best friends in the world are all sisters and I love them dearly. Cindy, the third in the bunch, called home to say she'd eloped with her boyfriend to Tennessee. She was thrilled to tell us she had married Mike. Young and in love...I remember those days. They have a beautiful little boy now, my sweet, smart, incredible nephew, whom we affectionately refer to as Baby Mike. Despite his starting pre-school this week, I will likely call him Baby Mike for the rest of his life. He's just too cute.

The oldest sister, Suzy, also surprised the hell out of the family when she met, dated, became engaged to, and married her Mike in a span of only nine months. She'd waited her entire life to meet someone like him and I have to say, he gets my vote for world's best husband any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Mike would stop the world for Suzy if he could, and I'm fairly sure he's tried on several occasions.

Then there is Kat whose best friend is called (can you guess?) Mike. They have a very strong connection and a supportive, loving relationship. There is no doubt in my mind that given the right chance at the right time, Kat and her Mike would have made a great couple. Only time will tell with those two!

The youngest of the sisters is only fourteen. I'm waiting for the day she calls me from high school to tell me about her first boyfriend who, I'm 98% certain, will be called Mike. Let's not rush her!

This sisterly bonding over Suzy's Mike / Cindy's Mike / Kat's Mike / Baby Mike left me feeling very excluded. As such, I was motivated to write the short story A Mike Of My Own (which I'm debating turning into a screenplay) about four sisters who all try to set their fifth sister up on date after date with nice guys like John, Roger, Bill, Bob, Dan, and Ken. After meeting so many men, they finally introduce her to --- who else??? --- Mike!!! Sister #5 (aka me) falls madly in love with "Mike" and they go on to live happily ever after. Except that the girls know his real name...and it isn't Mike. Did Sister #5 fall in love with the man? Or the name?

Call it my obsession with The Importance of Being Earnest if you want, but when Gwendolyn says "It has always been a girlish dream of mine to marry a man called Ernest," I know exactly to what she is referring. Of course, there are plenty of good and decent men in the world who are not called Ernest (or in my case, Mike) and I may live very well with any of them. Still, it seems to me that the only real way to prove the gypsy prophecy true or false is to find a Mike of my own and see if he is, indeed, worth marrying.

I am trying to keep my expectations low for my Leap Day date with Mike, the traveling pirate. In fact, I may begin to refer to him solely as Captain Jack Sparrow to keep those high hopes in check. It is not the name of the man I wish to fall for, rather the character of him. Let's just hope that his character is earnest!

Leap Day Miracle

I am definitely kissing this guy on the first date.

Ummm...sorry. Maybe I should start from the beginning???

This week has really gotten me thinking about my last few dates. This project is coming to a close and I've only got a couple of "cups" left. What could I do to spice things up? (Pardon the play-on-name.) Then it hit me: LEAP DAY.

As I explained in Married, Gay, or Dead yesterday, Leap Day is the one day every four years when - according to British tradition - a woman can propose to a man. But who would I propose to?

After scouring my friends and family for prospects, only ONE person could give me the name and number of a "great single guy" in his thirties. I thought for certain all hope was lost. What if I called this guy and he said no? My brilliant plan of asking out a dozen guys looked bleak at best. I was certain there was no hope for a Leap Day Love in my future.

This morning, I woke up to a message from a dear girlfriend I haven't seen in a while. We're theatre pals from our improv comedy days. She gave me the name and number of a fellow improviser friend with the provision that he's leaving for Paris for a week but would enjoy being asked out before he goes.

Oh great. The memories of the guy who "moved to China" to escape a second date with me have not faded from my memory. I shudder at the thought of another man who might put an ocean or two between us rather than involve himself in a romance. Still, I have no other truly promising options, so I make the call.

One thing you should know about me: I have a weakness for any man named Mike. Those who read this blog two summers ago will recall my extreme disappointment with the first Michael I dated, but I refuse to allow his loser-dom to taint my belief that I am destined to be with a man named Michael. (That's a blog in and of itself.) So when Jess said, "My friend Mike is game for the asking" I knew that I was calling him no matter what!

First of all, I'm exceptionally grateful that Jess had given him a heads-up that I'd be calling. Didn't want to blindside the poor guy! I introduced myself on the phone and his voice quickly picked up into a smile and I felt like he was incredibly glad (if not surprised) to hear from me! I'm guessing it's not every day that a random girl calls and says "Hi, you don't know me but I want to go on a date with you." Actually, if that does happen to you every day, Congrats and please tell me what you know that I don't!

We got into a fun, light-hearted, interesting conversation about his work flying around the world and my work on the book. We chatted about our favorite spots in Europe and how New York would always be home. He made me laugh more times per minute than I could have dreamed and I was instantly at ease with him. Mike felt like an old friend on the phone, not some guy I'd never met.

Life has a funny way of working itself out sometimes. Mike was one of the actors in a play Jess wrote last year that I attended. His humor and charming good looks made him wonderful to watch and it was strangely comforting to know "we've already been in the same room together," as he put it. Makes us feel less like strangers and more like friends who just haven't met yet.

Have you ever experienced a moment so surreal you're not entirely sure you're really in it? Like being in a dream world but you know you're awake? I was driving to Starbucks to write this very blog and had called Mike from the car. My plan was to call, chat, ask him out and get it over with as quickly as possible. Ten minutes max. I arrived at the home office in those ten minutes, parked, and stayed on the phone with him for a half hour longer.

The rain pouring down on my windshield looked like a movie set. It was cold and wet and miserable outside, but in my car, with Mike's voice in my ear, my laughter ricocheting around the seats, I was warm and toasty and completely happy. We giggled like small children about our favorite Disney movies. He can speak French and wear huge boots and stomp around like Gaston for me anyday! He offered to break out the Jack Sparrow vest on our date so we could play pirates which almost had me in a When Harry Met Sally diner moment. The only thing I adore more than Disney princes are Disney pirates!!! He's got the same silly sense of humor that I do and I felt all the nerves melt away as I relaxed into being my ridiculous self with him.

Then it came time to pop the question. The nerves kicked right back in! I knew it was dumb. We'd already been on the phone for thirty minutes. I had no reason in the world to think for a second he'd say no. But I had to say the words. I had to ask him out on a date.

"So, Mike - aka Gaston - aka Captain Jack Sparrow - I was wondering, upon your return from overseas adventures, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Yes. Hell yes. Let's do it!"

HUGE sigh of relief! He did not hesitate in the least with his enthusiastic response. I felt this crazy smile come over my face. One of those ear to ear grins you only see in cartoons. We made a date for next Tuesday when he gets back from Paris. I'm planning our date (a million ideas pinballing around in my brain) and I'm trying SO hard not to count the minutes between now and then. I've gotten my hopes up before. I've put all my eggs in one basket. I've counted my chickens before they've hatched and I am NOT doing that this time. We are going to take it slow, have a good time, and enjoy the hell out of getting to know each other.

But you can be damn sure I'm kissing him on Tuesday.

Married, Gay or Dead

There is a hilarious book from The Sweet Potato Queens entitled Every Man I've Ever Loved is Married, Gay, or Dead.

It's a financial planner with recipes, but that's not the point.

The point is that I cannot, for the life of me, find a straight, single guy to date!

Not. One. Guy.

I posted on my personal facebook page, my 100 Cups of Coffee facebook page, and twitter, as well as sending a text message to twenty of my friends that I want to ask a guy out tomorrow. In keeping with Irish tradition, a woman may "propose" to a man on Leap Day (February 29th) which occurs only once every four years.

For more information, just watch the movie Leap Year. It stars Amy Adams who is cute as a button so you'd want to watch it anyway. Oh, plus the super adorable guy she falls in love with is pretty easy on the eyes... Just saying.

Sorry, where was I?

Oh, right. Leap Years! According to English, Scottish, and Irish lore, a woman may propose to the man of her choice only during a leap year. If he refuses her hand, he owes her a payment of one hundred pounds (roughly $158 today). If he cannot afford the hundred pounds, he may grant her a silk gown and a kiss.

I don't know about you ladies, but I'm in dire need of some extra cash, or at the very least, a new dress. Not that I'd mind the kissing either!!!

That being said, I'm certainly in no rush to propose marriage to a man (hell, I don't even have a date this weekend!) but I would like to propose coffee. Dinner, maybe? Perhaps flying kites in the park or messy ice cream sundaes or mildly satisfying phone sex --- SOMETHING! I don't really care what at this point. All I know is that I need to get my head back in the game and I want a real person to play it with.

I figured that if I had a personal recommendation from a friend, the quality of male candidates would be higher. Frankly, I can't get much lower than the guys I've met online this year. Picks his nose? Check. Mommy complex? Check. Never left Brooklyn? Check. Cracked open his Darth Vader piggy bank to pay for our date? Checkmate.

Seriously, where are the single, straight, smart, successful, funny, cute, tall guys in their thirties with good educations, great families, and a desire to settle down???

Married.

Gay.

Or Dead.

Alright, alright, I hope they're not dead. But it seems to me upon closer inspection that all the good guys, the guys actually worth having, are already taken. This boggles my mind. I know plenty of amazing single women in their thirties. Ladies with careers and apartments and cars and friends and hobbies and they are interesting and witty and most of them are incredibly beautiful. These girls are a dime a dozen. I know because I'm one of them. Yet find a man with a job??? A man with his own place??? A man who meets the bare minimum of qualities we're looking for and we fawn over him like he's some great catch!

Wow, he paid for the movie tickets? Swoon! He held the door open? Swoon! He walked you to your car? Swoon!

Where the hell is romance in all of this? Why aren't we being the ones who are courted anymore? I got an email from a guy online the other day that read: "Do u shave?"

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???

Here's what's wrong with the world today: This Leap Year tradition is supposed to empower women to take charge one day every four years. Sadly, we've taken charge every day for the last forty years because men aren't men anymore. They're cowardly. They're chicken shit. They realized that we now outnumber them so they don't have to put the work in anymore. They make no real effort to court us! There is no wooing.

Whatever happened to wooing?

I said to my mother earlier, "Why can't I just find a nice, normal guy who enjoys cooking and snuggling and being romantic and taking road trips and dresses nicely and has great manners and is generous in bed and takes me out dancing every once in a while?"

My mother replied, "Because those men already have boyfriends."

I fear she might be right. All those ladies I asked? They can't think of a single, straight guy to send my way. But if I'm ever in need of a gay boyfriend, they can definitely hook me up!

Single, straight men of the world, I implore you to come out of hiding. Valentine's Day is over, there are no more major gift giving holidays for at least ten months! You can date freely and without cause for concern about your precious wallets. Women today aren't asking for much. Maybe you take us out to dinner every so often. Maybe you let us meet your mothers. Maybe you share control of the remote every other evening. Maybe you just say YES when one of us fantastic ladies asks you on a date every four years. Because if you don't, please know that I am always in need of a new dress and a kiss.

This One's For The Girls

If there is one thing that breaks my heart, it is seeing the amazing, intelligent, funny, successful, thoughtful, compassionate, wonderful women get their feelings trampled on by insensitive douchebags. 

Pardon my French.

It just really tears me up inside that there are some truly incredible girls out there that any man would be lucky to have. I'm not just saying that because these women are my friends. I'm saying that because for one reason or another, I am in AWE of each and every one of them. The paths they've carved out for themselves. The strength and confidence which helps them stand on their own two feet. The grace and poise with which they carry themselves. The hurts they've survived, the losses they've suffered, the friendships they've never turned their backs on. 

I'm not kidding when I say that the women in my life are a particular strain of resilient!

So when one of them is hurting, I want to kill the limey bastard who tossed her gentle heart into the trash. Since knee-capping is kind of illegal, I resort to the best revenge I know: helping his victim become stronger, smarter, and more secure than ever before.

Here is the response to an email from one such friend. Her boyfriend had broken up with her "out of nowhere" and ended their relationship with no explanation. She was asking me how I got through my break up with Kit, what I looked forward to every day, how I even got out of bed. I won't lie and say it was easy because you all know that it wasn't. BUT it does get easier with time, tears, and good girlfriends.

If you want to know a secret, I'm not 100% over Kit, despite what he did. My motto is "fake it til you make it." If you act like you're over him, one day you'll wake up and actually BE over him! 

#1--- The first thing you have to do is acknowledge whatever feelings you have for this guy. Admit them. They're real. Even if the relationship is over, we are women and we can't turn our emotions off overnight. That comes with time but they will diminish a little each day. Don't feel bad that you still care about him. Forgive yourself for it and just accept that it's part of who you are *right now* but the feelings, just like the pain of the break up, won't last forever. 

#2--- Next, I had to clear my mind. I spent the first three days in bed, sobbing my little heart out. First I didn't eat anything. Then I only ate junk food. I refused to get out of my pajamas and generally felt worse about myself. It was horrible. On the third day, I showered and texted back every single one of my girlfriends who had called an offered me something, anything. I spent 10 days visiting friends I hadn't seen in a while, sleeping in guest rooms, having normal dinners, showering (a new concept!) --- it gave me a reason to get out of bed every day. My friends wouldn't let me wallow. They comforted me but also knew when to kick my ass.

Important break up recovery tactic #3 is having a good support system. Like a buddy in AA! Lol every time I thought about calling Kit, I called my "sponsor" instead and told her how I was feeling. The road trip was perfect. It distracted me, cleared my head, got me OUT of the place I'd been sharing with Kit for 6 months and also surrounded me with strong women who totally understood what I was going through. 

The #4 thing I did was write it all down. Obviously the blog was super helpful as 39,000+ women read my heartbreak and were supportive. They've all been through it in one way or another but the really deep stuff I kept in my journal. It seems strange but I wrote down every awful, horrible, cutting down to the bone feeling I had. That way whenever I am tempted to go back to him (which insanely, I sometimes am) I re-read the awful way I felt when we broke up and that keeps me away! 

#5 - I shook up my look. Darkened my hair, got a free makeover at Mac, got my eyebrows threaded and bought a whole new wardrobe! The shopping spree felt good because I wasn't trying to look pretty for anyone but me. I loved feeling beautiful for myself and not for some boyfriend. The change in appearance gave me a change in attitude and boosted my confidence tremendously.

#6 would be focusing on me. I wanted to know the things that made ME happy - not the things WE liked or what made US have fun. I wrote a list of 101 things to do in 1,001 days! This gives me 3 years (more or less) to complete goals that are only important to ME!!! Being selfish - imagine that! I want to learn a new language so I'm teaching myself Italian on a website. I wanted to take a dance class so I signed up for salsa (alone! Gasp!) I bought a gorgeous new pair of heels (I have never splurged on shoes before.) My stunning new Prada mules were the fix my feet needed to feel fabulous! I am reading Jane Austen and writing letters to people I haven't gotten to really speak to in a while. I learned to make 3 new desserts, ate at a restaurant I've been dying to try, and spent a whole afternoon at a farmers market taking pictures of fruits and veg. This might not sound life altering but they all have 1 thing in common --- they've got nothing to do with Kit. It's MY list of things I want to do for no other reason than I want to do them! Who knows if I'll meet an amazing man at my next cooking class or roller skating but at least I'll have fun doing it!

#7 was to change my surroundings. I moved some furniture, redecorated a bit, and hung up pictures of people, places and sayings I love. I framed 22 postcards of Rome circa 1950. They're black and white and I found them up in an antique shop in Massachusetts. They're special and beautiful and a once in a lifetime find! I bought little plaques with various sayings like "believe in love" and "love is not who you live with, it's who you can't live without" and "we build our tomorrow by what we dream today" and "it's about learning to dance in the rain" and "coffee and love should both be served hot!" I got new bedding and cleaned up all those messy little piles of things that were nagging me. It just feels like being in a different apartment, one he didn't live with me in. 

#8 break up strategy is to do something out of your comfort zone, something that scares you. It sounds silly, but I was terrified of karaoke. After I got up there and sang (with a lot of help from French martini's) I felt amazing. Yes it was a tiny dive bar in rhode island on a rainy Wednesday night but I could've win the Olympics I was so damn proud 

#9 (((I do not condone this one))) They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else!!! That guy I met at the karaoke bar? I slept with him! I have to tell you it was the best sex of my life. I was sooooo nervous but he was great, totally relaxed me, and I felt comfortable enough to just enjoy it. We went all night and at first all I could think was "Kit never did this" or "Kit didn't pay attention to me like that" or "you know, in 6 months, Kit never gave me an orgasm as good as this one" but by the end, all I could think was "Kit who???" He didn't matter. I'd given myself to someone else who make me feel incredible in ways Kit never could and that made me miss him a whole lot less. 

#10 is simply believing in all those plaques, sayings, phrases and cliches. It's hard sometimes because they're the most obvious. But there's a line in Eat Pray Love where Liz has really been through the wringer and she thinks she's had enough. Richard (her friend) tells her simply "believe in love again." I do. Some days it's harder than others but I DO believe in love! I've had my heart trampled on and thrown back in my face but if we go with the "everything happens for a reason" platitude then this just wasn't meant to be. I don't know the reason you're hurting now but I know that someday you will look back and it will all make sense. Have faith. Let you heart bend but don't let it break. Stay strong. You're worth more than whoever he was or whatever he gave you. Listen to music that makes you feel powerful and don't let anyone treat you with less respect than you deserve. God is looking down at you right now and saying "I'm saving this girl for someone special!!!" 

Call me anytime. Oh, and read Eat Pray Love if you haven't already. Actually, read it twice! Then eat a pizza and go out with your girlfriends. Maybe even sing some karaoke :-)

*This blog is dedicated to D, A, S, and L who all deserve love more than I can possibly tell them.*

Plenty of Fish

Hi Kim,

It was a long weekend here in Saskatchewan so I and a couple of my closest girlfriends took full advantage of that. The three of us have had an annual ice fishing trip - this was our 4th year. It was great! We caught a few that weren't worth keeping, caught a few that didn't want us and ended up getting off the hook and swimming away, and we also caught a few really good ones! 


I learned that fishing is a bit like dating. As I sat in that ice fishing shack for 16 hours over 2 days, not catching a damn thing, I realized: if I can have this much patience fishing and not have it bother me to catch one or not, what the hell is the difference with guys? I still had my good friends around and we had an amazing time. So maybe it's a weird analogy, but I'm going to stick with it!


I just finished reading your latest blog, Less Is More. I totally feel like sending responses like that as well. Here is the amazing first message I received from someone today:

Hiiii

Yep, that was it. Right then, I took the hook off and tossed that fish back down the hole without a second look :)


Really proud of myself right now,
Sara


Dear Sara,


Dating is definitely like fishing. It has inspired all those phrases like:
   Plenty of fish in the sea
   He's a great catch
   Throw the scrawny ones back
   Lure him in
   Time to fish or cut bait
   Cast a wider net
   He's a guppy. Honey, you want a shark!


I'm sure there are several I'm missing but you get the point. Both require patience, determination, and a little technique.


When we were kids growing up on the water, there would be a twenty-five cent prize for the first fish caught and another twenty-five cents for the biggest fish caught. Nowadays, to lure me onto the boat for an entire afternoon of wiggly worms and no place to pee, you'd have to promise me more than fifty freakin cents! Still, I always pissed off my brother and cousins by walking away with no less than two quarters. How?


The fishy call!


Yes, it's ridiculous but hear me out.


"Here, fishy, fishy, fishy. Here, fishy, fishy, fishy."


This is my adorable younger self calling to the fishies. Please bear in mind that I was under ten years old and the only girl on a boat full of manly men. Therefore, my cute factor alone allowed me to get away with such silliness as talking to the fishies. Leaning over the side of the boat, bobbing my line in the water, asking them to come up and bite my bait so I could collect my small fortune and be on my way.


Worked. Every. Time.


This past summer, my mother went out on the boat with my dad and uncle. She came home with a bag full of fish she had caught and as we sat around, basking in the glory of her catching the dinner we were eating, I asked her how she did it. 


"Simple," she replied. "Fishy call."


You can sit on a boat (or in an ice shack) for hours, baiting your line, hoping something will come along. You can have faith that the fish will find what you've got to offer and come to you. In my experience though, calling to them, putting yourself out there, is the best way to attract a fish.


And by fish, of course, I mean man.


In the meantime, enjoy your girlfriends. Be patient. Have fun. Make time to do the simple things in life. Disconnect. Enjoy being you and all those little traditions that make your world a special place to be. Toss back the little guys, the ones who serve you no purpose. Let go of the ones who didn't want to be caught. And stay alert --- you never know when you're going to land your next big keeper!


And always, always, do the fishy call :-)


I'm really proud of you too!


~Kim

The Sacrifice of Sex

Sitting in Starbucks on Shrove Tuesday was a highly entertaining experience. 


I over indulged in pancake brunch mid-afternoon, complete with sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, mandarin oranges, white grapes, chocolate chip cookies, juice, and tea. Needless to say, I wasn't hungry when I got to "the office" however I did walk in with a huge box of chocolate candies. 


Why, Kimberly, Why? Because I'm giving up chocolate for Lent. 


There are certain things that come easily to me. Sacrifice is not one of them. Giving up something I love - I mean really and truly enjoy - is overwhelmingly painful for me. The silly little things in my day, those small pleasures, those are the things that make me happiest. Dolling up with some gorgeous jewelry. Tipping back a full glass of chilled moscato. Sparkly lip gloss. Hour long phone calls to my bestie. A hot cup of rooibos tea. Steamy, relaxing morning showers. Driving with the windows down and the radio up. Reality tv. Chocolate truffles. Crazy good sex.


Like I said... it's the little things!


Anywho, I sat down at the home office and the very cute guy next to me was working on his laptop so I offered him first choice of candy from my stash. Kit Kats, Butterfinger, Twix, Tootsie Rolls, Hershey bars, Mr Goodbars, Rolos and even Lindt truffles! Yes, I know, I was pretty irresistible. Still, we are trained from birth not to take candy from strangers so he was hesitant to accept my calorific offering until I smiled sweetly and explained "I'm giving them up for Lent starting tomorrow." 


Well that got his attention.

Cute guy: Really? You know you're supposed to give up the thing you love the most?
Me: Yup. Chocolate.
Cute guy: So chocolate is the thing you love the most? You can't think of a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g you enjoy more?
Me: Oh, I'm sure I could think of a few things. (((Ring check: He's married.))) But nothing else I'd be willing to give up!
Cute guy: Oh really?
Me: Well, I know plenty of people who give up sex for Lent.
Cute guy: But not you?
Me: Nah. I'm single. I'm not having sex. So really, I'd only be giving up the opportunity to have sex with someone and a single girl's gotta take what she can get when she can get it.
Cute guy: Wow. You've really thought this through.
Me: Yup. Plus, I figure that by giving up chocolate I'll look even better for when that opportunity arises. It's a win-win-win situation.
Cute guy: Three wins, eh?
Me: Yup. God gets my sacrifice, you get my chocolate, and I get laid.

I really have to stop making people laugh so hard they choke on their coffee.

Two Tear Drops

There's nothing true about love that can't be said in a country song. Right now, the song playing in my head is Two Tear Drops. The chorus goes:


Oh the ocean's a little bit bigger tonight
Two more teardrops, somebody cryin
One of them happy and one of them bluer than blue
The tide goes out and the tide comes in
And someday they'll be teardrops again
Released in a moment of pleasure or a moment of pain
Then they drift on down and ride to the sea again


It's the story of a woman who gets married crying tears of joy, and the man she left behind crying tears of pain. She was so happy to be in love again and he was so sad to have lost the girl of his dreams. "One of them happy and one of them bluer than blue." The thing that amazes me is that they both shed a tear for love. 


Love.


I think about the love I've lost and the love that's come into my friend's life. She's just gotten engaged to the most wonderful man. They're exquisitely happy together, sharing a fantastic little apartment, planning a wedding, living on love and leftover noodles. Her ring is the most stunning I've ever laid eyes on. They kiss at every single opportunity. He is her best friend and she doesn't miss a chance to tell him so. They're the kind of cute that would nauseate you if you didn't already know and adore them. They're Kit and I before the fallout. 


The difference is that her fiance is the real deal. He's attentive, affectionate, committed and strong. He brightens up her darkest days and I do not doubt for one single minute that he would ever abandon her. She makes his world a better place to be, as evidenced by the way his face lights up each time he says her name. They are a young, vibrant, sweet couple and I sit here, bitter, jaded, divorced, and envious of their innocent enthusiasm.


I've realized along the way that I do not begrudge my friends their untainted relationship. I do not hold their happiness against them. It would be easy to look down on love and all those in it, hating their smug smiles and wishing it was me in their place. What good would that do though? How would that help anyone? I was in their place just a few short months ago and I kid you not, people unfriended me on facebook because they didn't want to see my super excited status updates. Who does that??? Who hides the happiness of others from their newsfeed? Did they not share in my joy? Or was my exuberance a constant reminder of their own pain?


It would be easy for me to ignore my newly engaged / coupled off / happily married friends. I could snub them and pretend that their bliss simply did not exist. No one is shoving their smiles in my sad face. No one is forcing me to celebrate with them. I choose to celebrate the joy of my friends because someday soon, I hope to join their ranks once again. 


This is not to say it's a simple task. This one particular girlfriend has asked for help planning her wedding, and I have volunteered my services on more than one occasion. We've already been looking for dresses, designing invitations, and registering for all the stuff she'll need in her new home. I know that I am not obligated in any way to accompany her to Bed, Bath & Beyond but the truth is: I want to go. 


I know how important this time in her life is and she deserves a friend who will be there, who will be genuinely pleased for her, who will be excited when things are going well, and let her vent her frustrations when wedding plans go slightly awry. (Ok, sometimes they go more than slightly!) I know the difference between A-Line cut versus sheath dresses. I know which blenders, food processors, and stand mixers get the best reviews, last the longest, and are the best value for money. I know how to throw a themed bridal shower, how to plan the ideal seating chart, how to arrange seasonal floral displays. In short, I would be the perfect bride. Only problem is I am not the bride.


It's hard for me to believe I got married almost a decade ago. Of course, I didn't know any of these things then. I was the first of my friends to get married thus having no real guidance. The wedding I had was exceptionally beautiful, but it's nothing like the wedding I would plan now (when the occasion arises.) My tastes have matured, as have my friends. What I need and want in a celebration for my 30 year old self is different than what I had for my 20 year old self. Ten years ago, I wanted princess perfect with a splashy party. Now, I am content with tastefully simple, understated elegance. 


Indulging in my own romantic fantasies comes so naturally. I have been in love before. I hope to be in love again. My fairy tale no longer includes a sparkly white dress, passed hors d'oeuvres, and the electric slide. Instead, it revolves around a promise of forever, morning in and morning out, night after night sharing a bed with a man who would stop the world for me if he could. These friends getting married in ten short months get both of these things. The wedding. The marriage. The whole shebang.


With conflicted emotions, I watch her try on gown after gown, search the aisles for the optimal toaster oven, choose her menu and write her vows. I am happy for her but I'm sad for me. I treasure the love she's found yet I wonder why I haven't found my forever partner yet. I ask myself how I could have gotten it so wrong the first time around and if I will ever get a second chance. I am simultaneously hopeful yet concerned. I am optimistic yet skeptical. I am open-hearted yet worried. I have no idea which way is up and can only cross my fingers and toes that life has a funny way of working itself out. 


Tonight, she will go to sleep with a tear in her eye and a song in her heart. She lies in the arms of a man who loves her, who treats her with respect, is honest, trustworthy, and loyal. She will wake up next to him knowing that their life together won't always be easy, it won't always be perfect, but it will always be together and that is enough for her. 


I will also go to sleep tonight with a tear in my eye and a song in my heart. Except that my tear is one of loneliness, one of sorrow, one of pain. My bed - and my arms - are empty. My only prayer is that the next time I shed a tear, it will be one of joy, one of love.


Love.