Quality.

I went through a phase where Id say “quality” all day long…… It was my response to anything. Here’s what I would NOT describe as quality….

The dude who emailed me, “sup?.” I then curiously perused his photos starting with a classic bathroom mirror shot in his tank top flexing his roided out guns. Shot #2 was a close up of his lips. Parted. And his tongue. Ewwwww. Then shot # 7, yes, I flipped through them all, was of about 12 lipglosses with the caption, “MAC lipgloss for sale, message me.” Hmmm, interesting. Perhaps it was his wife’s he was selling since his status read “separated.”

And then, then I get this email from tatted out rockstar:

Whoa. I hope you’re into 29 year olds.

Come onnnnnn! Dude- it’s a difference of 4 years at the most, excuse my language but WTF!?! Jackass. My first gut response:

Whoa. I hope you’re into illiterate prostitutes.

Latte, stat!

I’m going to have to get a bit more strategic in my coffee shop-quest for love.  Strategic in my location choices, visit times, and plan of attack.  Hitting up a quaint shop in the middle of a shopping mecca is likely NOT going to land me standing behind Mr. Friday-night date.  It put me right between the cute couple straight outta their land rover with bugaoo baby carriage stuffed with a future baby Gap model and the two sorority chicks fresh from yoga class at lululemon.  Having a “hot” day, aka those fantastic days where you feel cute and confident?  Well, this is the day to have coffee with every meal, and at three different shops.  And while the mother-ship of coffee shops at Kierland is sure to guarantee some great looking dudes, it’s also highly unlikely to result in a first date with a gentleman that is not known to the bouncer at Dollhouse and doesn’t use perezhilton and espn for his newssources…

So pending I find the right coffee shop, and stand in just the right line, however will it start?  I can’t quite base my hopes and dreams on my favorite lifetime movie “Lucky 7″ where she overlooks the bagel guy (McDreamy) only to find he used to work on Wall Street and love blooms.  Riiiight.  I can’t quite ask the time, as I’ve done in the past even while wearing my trusty watch and iphone in hand… um, embarrassing.  And do I ask him if he’s ever tried the newest flavor of cake pop?  Bo-ring. 

You can’t plan it, you can’t practice it, it just happens.  You’re nervously waiting for your turn to order, hoping he’ll smile at you when you catch eye contact, then he softly touches your shoulder for your attention.  You turn around, smiling sweetly at green eyes and he kindly tells you that your big ‘ol bag just knocked over five bags of organic fruit snacks in the display behind you, and that you better pick them up so nobody trips.  Gee, thanks.

Now what?

Online dating has exhausted me, with very little results to show for it.  So, now what?  What’s the plan of attack for a singleton who just lost her last singleton friend to engagement and works in an office surrounded by women.  No people, get your mind outta da gutter.

I need a strategy that removes my smiling face holding a cocktail from the world wide web and gets my ass in the real world where real men live.  I shall start…. at coffee shops.  Sure, I’ll drain my bank account with latte after mocha-chinos, but wasn’t I doing that anyways by subscribing to the joke of online dating?  And, yes, I’ll be jittery to the point of causing grave concern of co-workers who will wonder why I’m shaking so much I can’t type an e-mail, all in hopes and dreams of Mr. Psuedo-Intellectual-wearing glasses-with-a-bow-tie and jamming out to some indie band I’ve never heard of buying me my TNSVLXH (tall nonfat skinny vanilla latte extra hot).

Going after two plan of attacks.  Repeat locations and valley-wide.  Repeat locations meaning hitting up the same coffee shops around the same time to help increase my chances.  Psych 101 taught me allllll about proximity, people.  And valley-wide to help increase my statistical sample size.  Sure I’ll incur added costs of gas and wear and tear on the old Vibe, however we all know Chandler is brewing with single engineers just looking for a hot thang to take home to meet mom.  Me.

And one last added variance to the scheme of all schemes – corporate vs. mom & pop.  Starbucks vs. Lux.  Intel vs. graphic design consultant.

Can I get a cuppa Joe?

New Years past….

I have a strong distaste for New Years Eve.  STRONG distaste for it.  It’s worse than Valentine’s Day in my world, and I’d really just like to wake up on the last day of the year, take a big swig of Nyquil, and sleep the day away and wake back up on January 1st.  Yippee!  At least on Valentine’s Day I can get away with my sarcastic barbs at the halllmark-holiday and pink-glitter cupids that don every front door.  New Year’s… not so much.  If you’re single, you’re stuck with one of the following scenarios:

1.  A Set-up/blind date.  Tried this a few years’ past when our crew hit up the block party.  Decent enough, the guy was cute and polite, held my hand through the crowd and I had enough Tejas margaritas to give him a sloppy kiss at midnight while Bare Naked Ladies serenaded us with fireworks in the background.  We parted ways, and he texted me through 3 AM with sweet compliments, get home safely & “can’t wait to see you agains”.  Then he disappeared… swell.

2.  Party girl!  Slip on that sequin mini, sky-high stilettos and red lips and off you go.  Two shots before the party starts and I’m as chatty as the not-so-hot but super-confident girl at the bar.  And then, you realize that everyone AT the party is with their wife, fiancee, significant other, or is actually the hired taxi driver to take everyone safely home.  Midnight strikes, and you wait for a good 120 seconds until your hostess friend finds you and lays one on ya outta pity, then retreats to her hot hubby on the couch.  super.

3.  We be clubbin… This was the choice of a many a NYE in my twenties.  Hot outfit, I do recall a backless silver top with fake black leather pants one year, and a gaggle of your single-girlfriends and you hit up the latest “it” club in oldtown and dance your booties off until you bump into a cutie that will work, and hold onto him until midnight.  Somehow make it home around 3 AM where you dig out remnants of glitter from your top, and find his smeared phone # on your wrist since you lost your phone around 11:15 PM.  Is that a 3, or an 8???

Sing me a melody

It’s all her fault. Adele. The song sucks you in, you belt it out at the top of your lungs, then realize her story resembles yours. You switch the radio station, skip the “Baby it’s Cold Outside,” and BAM – she’s singing again. I’d bet at any given minute, she’s belting her tune of heartbreak on the radio, sending those of us who’ve lived it in a downward spiral, may as well be drinking away my pain with a Tejas margarita.

How to get back up the spiral staircase of a broken heart? Skinny jeans a size smaller, sassy new heels & re-joining online dating. Pray for me… Surely more good blog content should follow my journey into harmony-land . Now how does one REALLY answer the following:

1. What 5 things can’t you live without?
Hmmmm, am thinking heels, lipgloss, iPhone, the movie Love Actually and Sarah McLachlan on repeat would be the answer NOT to snag a quality date.

2. What are your passions?
Hot guys that are employed and under the age of 53…

3. What do you want people to know about you?
I’m a natural blonde, but graduated with honors? Boo-ring.

4. First date?
I’d skip the typical & go with an indie concert or cocktails somewhere sexy. A real Funtime for a dude , right?

5. What are you thankful for?
Diet coke, my nieces hugs & 4 inch heels. Wow – I sound like a real catch, eh?

Who wants to write my profile? Now hiring…

Youuuuuu turkey!

Normally I bitch and whine about why being single on any holiday is a pain in the you know what.  But, single on Thanksgiving?  Don’t mind it so much.  Let me tell you why.

First, it is quite possibly the most “un-sexy” holiday known to man.  Right next to President’s Day.  You sit around all day, lounging in your fat clothes so you can stuff yourself silly with so much turkey, stuffing and mashed taters that you appear to have become pregnant overnight.   And fat clothes, people, are NOT sexy.

Next, the men loaf all afternoon on the comfiest couches and barker loungers to yell obsecenities at whatever football game is playing on the tube.  You could walk right in front of your man during a thxgiving day game in a full-on dominatrix outfit and he’ll still ask you to move to the left so he can see the third down.

Third, when you’re the “single gal,” no one asks you to make thanksgiving dinner.  Not that you could if someone asked you… but, regardless, I usually get out scott-free by bringing rolls, or soda, or an appetizer.  Or this year, where I will attempt to make an apple pie… not just throw in an old Mrs. Smith’s pre-made in the oven people, actually BAKE.

And lastly, it is a day to give thanks that if you want to eat three helpings of stuffing, wear your stretchy pants with a long tunic, take a walk with your nieces in flats and not do your “smokey eyes” when you’re just going to fall asleep and have your mascara smear everywhere, you can.  Cuz you’re single.

Set me up!

Ahhh. The dreaded “set-up.”  Dreaded on both ends, that is.

Starting with….the pain experienced when you’re being set up by a friend for a blind date.  Blind dates are bad enough on their own, but when it’s been pre-arranged by a dear friend of yours, it adds an entire new layer of pressure and anxiety.  Afterall, ”who” do your friends realllllly think you should be dating (opposed to the past three dudes they rolled their eyes at, including Mr. Not-your-typical type dude).  Will he be cute?  And if not, do you over-analyze this as a low-blow to one’s self-confidence, as in, you’re not cute enough to be set up on a blind date with your friend’s VP of Marketing she’s been drooling over, even after she got married?  And when the date is dead in the water after 10 minutes of him sharing every detail of his pet pitbull’s latest medical emergencies after swallowing a full set of legos, how can you ditch this guy knowing full-well he’ll give your bestie the 411 on Monday, you’re stuck!

And what if you’re the one doing the set-up?  That’s pressure in and of itself.  Your friend is expecting you to reel her in a keeper – hot, funny, smart, the whole package.  How do you even approach the set-up, “soooo, I have this friend…” just sounds so wrong, and will likely send the dude running the other way.  And after the date?  Well, that’s just the beginning of your problems.  If she hated him, you risk losing your friendship forever as she will never let you live down the fact that you set her up with a guy that is actually an inch shorter than her petite 5’1″ frame.  And if she’s in love?  Even worse.  She’ll call you every minute to analyze his voicemessage, his lack of voicemessage, his text that simply says “had g reat time!” and BAM – she’s in love, should she text back within the hour?  Wait til the evening? Ask out for a second date?  Ohhhh, the over-analying goes on.

To set-up or not to set-up?  If you’re me, and hoping your BFF will hook you up with a downtown hottie, well, let’s hope she sets me up.

The Motherload

The Motherload. I found it. “It” being the place where all 30-something professional men go to have meetings over an Americano, or read espn.com with a black coffee. It’s the Starbucks at Kierland Commons. Have you been to that location?

Just recently I visited on a Thursday early afternoon around 2PM, and on a Tuesday morning on my way into work around 9:30 AM. Both times there wasn’t one open seat amongst the plush couches and leather loungers. All were full with quite possibly, my future “Mr.” I had heard rumblings of the virility of this particular starbucks, mostly in the fact that a friend of mine has scored not one, but at least two quality dates out of that ‘Bucks. And I had been in on a handful of times and noticed the abundance of potential ex-boyfriends, but these past few visits really has me convinced. I need to frequent this place. Same time, same day.

Why keep it consistent? Well, if a guy is crazy like us women, he’ll hope that if he spots a hottie in line for her latte that he wants to chat up but can’t quite find the courage the first time around, catching eye contact on the second and third time will pretty much guarantee one of you to break the ice with a, “hey – you ever try that new peppermint mocha, any good?” And hopeful that he’ll run into that hottie again, you try for the same time, same day…… And, BAM! Love.

100 posts, let’s celebrate!

Holy 100 posts batman! Let’s celebrate with some browsing amongst online dating profiles, shall we?

After deleting Mr. White chocolate and his poetic email asking me, ” when do you need to be back in heaven, I know they must be missing you?”, I decided to check out the pool of resource-room graduates for future text-dates, aka eventual blog fodder.

And then I stumbled upon Surfrider80. Surfrider, aka Mr. 12-pack’s photo of “himself” on the beach carrying a board to catch a wicked five-footer caught my eye for a good ten seconds before I realized I clicked on his profile out of curiosity. Nothing to write home about but his photo sucked me in, and two minutes later I felt embarrassed that I fell prey to the lure of chiseled abs, this is exactly what I make fun of!! And yet I realized if all online daters applied this photo-choosing process, perhaps we’d find our soulmates or future ex boyfriends a bit faster.

Sure not all guys have abs of steel to show off, but trust me, not all women really care when it comes down to it. We’ll take witty and kind over chiseled and loaded anyday. So, show off what’s best about yourself- your beautiful eyes, athletic figure, great fashion sense, whatever. And while this weekend I was tempted to snap a pic of my ol size 4 jeans I managed to button up and wear for six plus hours to post, remember your audience.

Pinterest taught me to wear a dress tight enough to show your a woman but loose enough to be a lady, well said pinterest…..aka a single 30-something’s version of crack…. They should add a dating category so I can “pin” potential hotties!

Waldo, Zombie or Halloweenie

We’ve already discussed that Halloween was created so chicks can dress in scantily clad naughty nurse costumes, but what about the guys?  What does your future ex’es costume say about him?

Action-hero dude – dresses up as the Green Lantern, Superman, GI Joe…. this guy could have been the late bloomer in high school, perhaps he had his growth spurt at the ripe old age of 20 and is still re-living his high school fantasy of being the quarterback and dating the head cheerleader.  Could be a keeper, keep him around for Thanksgiving.

I’m too cool to wear a costume, so I’m going to wear a cheap mask all night and my regular clothes guy.  Ehhh, this one is a buzzkill, he takes himself too seriously and won’t even bother with any creativity in his outfit, though he tries to fit in with a walmart-bought freddy krueger mask in  hopes that the blonde hottie in a “sexy candy corn dress” will get drunk enough to not ask him to take off the mask later that night.  Steer clear unless he had to come straight from volunteering at the children’s hospital and was making a last-ditch effort – highly unlikely.

Group costume get-up man – the guy that goes in with 4 or 5 of his good buddies for a group effect, sometimes even throws in a hot chick or two to heighten the effect of the large group of costumes.  Typically a group of camoflauged army dudes, or an NFL or NBA team, group of FBI agents or secret service men.  He’s going to be the lifelong frat dude permanently joined at the hip with his ol alum buddies.  If he can steal away from the pack for longer than 2 minutes to buy you a shot, give him another 10 minutes to see how he fares, otherwise, move on ladies.

Inappropriate costume dude – aka the large “halloweenie”, the shocker, nasty banana, Hairy banana hammock man, or ring toss guy.  Run ladies.  Run the other way.  And if he thinks he’s clever to make up his own costume a’la I’m going to dress up like a hooker and let my bestie be my pimp, you’re in for a real doozy (I speak from “ex” experience… jerk).

The guy who goes for PG-funny with a Where’s Waldo get-up, his favorite cartoon character, Justin Bieber, or a play-on-words outfit (Chick magnet – giant magnet around the neck with baby stuffed chickens glued to it), what’s he trying to put out there?  That he’s a fun, outgoing clean-cut guy.  Likely a good choice to tag along to your work halloween party, no worries for inappropriate appendages on his outfit or getting chocolate wasted and making a complete fool of himself (and you for bringing him).  Definitely a treat with this one!