Ho Ho Ho?

I was in the mall yesterday doing the usual Christmas shopping, when I spied
 a cute man dressed in a red and white suit, sporting a white beard and mustache and laughing in a way that I couldn't stop smiling. I checked him out again...had I dated this guy?

Oh no...it was Santa Claus. I've really got to start writing stuff down now that I'm only months away from 50.

I spent most of my life in retail management, so Christmas is kind of difficult for me to get really excited about. I mean, I love the true meaning of the holiday, but sadly, that's been lost in the shopping frenzy that starts earlier every year. So, for many years, Christmas has been a day off after 6-8 weeks of working 7 12hr days. Its a hard habit to break.

It does surprise me, however, that the unspoken rules of Christmas are still broken, even at our age. You know the ones: No breaking up after the 15th of Dec., don't expect jewelry if you've been dating less than 3 months, and don't expect him to come to Christmas dinner if he's never met your family. Now, if you do decide that you want a significant other for the holidays, the latest you can reasonably begin a relationship is Oct. But you still won't get jewelry. Most likely, a tea pot is the most you can hope for.

I've stopped expecting Christmas or Hanukkah presents a long time ago. First of all, there's nothing my family can give me that I don't have--spending the day with them, surrounded by love and guaranteed silliness is the best present I could ever ask for. If I happen to be dating someone around the holidays, I've stopped hoping for the surprise gift that will take my breath away. I consider myself lucky if I get a card. And, honestly, if my someone special takes the time to find me a card in the middle of the throngs of people grabbing whatever Hallmark they can get their hands on, it means much more to me than some half-thought gift (like a Christmas sweater...EEEEWWWWW!!!!!). Unless, of course, he has the extreme intelligence and insight to buy me a sparkly piece of jewelry...then I'm devoted to him until at least Valentines Day!!

Most of all, enjoy the holidays with those you love most and make memories that will last you for many years to follow!

May your dreams be filled with sugar plums and the sound of that wonderful 'HoHoHo!!"

Love to all!

Booby Trap

Okay, I just read Dan Gibb's blog regarding wives not only allowing, but encouraging their husbands to end a long, tough week by attending a 'titty bar", even handing over $300 to spend in the "VIP" Rooms with a particular...performer to do what they do best.

Get Real.

What wife in her right mind would hand over $300 and tell her husband, "Honey, go to the whore house, get a b.j. and enjoy those bouncing boobies." Come on. The only two reasons that a wife would allow her husband would have a ...relaxing night with the guys (in other words,acting a like jackasses)or was  her husband is so rotten on bed, that his night with several nude maidens will guarantee that she could sleep soundly. Or she was counting the minutes until her lover 20 years her junior was waiting for the cell phone call as soon as her husband peeled out of the driveway.

Personally, I think its an insult to the institute of marriage or any committed relationship. It defies a trust that's crucial to to the partnership that is supposedly based on the respect of a couple.

Bouncing Boobies eventually sag. My young lover has never has any complaints.

Have at it, my dear friend, Dan!

Love Letters

From your very first " I like John. Circle 'yes' or 'no' " note passed to you in 6th grade math class to " I believe the possibilities are endless with you...I will carry your spirit and energy with me at all times. I love you." written in a card to you from the first man you fell in love with , love letters are one of the most precious gifts a woman can receive from her beloved. Well, they are to me, anyway. I think they're even better than jewelry, but don't you dare tell that to anyone, especially a guy!

Call me sentimental, call me crazy (you wouldn't be the first!), but I've saved just about every letter, every card--including the ones that come with flowers--that I've received. In fact, I've saved every memento, no matter what it is, that will remind me of the guy I swore I loved more than life itself (even Josh's smashed drum sticks signed with "Kimmie, Love Forever, Josh) and strangely, I still love them, with the warmth of the memories they gave me. The assorted cards, notes, and odd collections of stuff are keepsakes of a life well lived, even if it might not be as conventional as I had once dreamed of when I was a little girl, they are MINE and I don't regret a minute.

What started all this semi-staggered walk down memory lane was packing up my house for a recent move (hence the lack of blogs). I was going through stuff I'd been carting around since I was a kid, trying to eliminate the excess stuff that I really didn't need anymore: out of date text books from college, papers that were worthless now--stuff like that. I was so surrounded by crap that I didn't even pay attention to the next box I pulled down from my closet shelf. I ripped it open and there it was...a treasure-trove of my most favorite things. My packing forgotten, I spent the rest of the day carefully unfolding the now yellowing papers, savoring every word and traveling back to times I hadn't realized I'd forgotten.

The first note was written by my first boyfriend; a junior in High School who drove a really cool white sports car. He used to pick me up everyday from the private Catholic High School I attended, standing by the drivers' door in a tight t-shirt and painted on jeans; very John Travolta a la Saturday Night Fever. When I think back on it, he really had a fabulous body, but I was a bit too young and...well...naive to appreciate it. Maybe because his arrival always had the girls in my class sighing and 'ohmygodhe'ssocute'-ing that most of the time, I knew he was there before I even saw him. He also used a particular shampoo that had a very strong, very distinct scent that would proceed his arrival. Anyway, we had been Going Out (officially Going Out-he gave me a tiny diamond pendant)  for a few months when my family took what was supposed to be a two week vacation to visit relatives in Florida. But the trip lasted a bit longer because my parents wanted to do something really impulsive and wild, so they bought a house in Vero Beach and suddenly we were moving from Connecticut to the Sunshine State--in two months. When I finally returned home, in Greenwich, there was an envelope stuck between the gap of the molding of the old front door. It was from him, my boyfriend:.

     "Dear Kim,
      Welcome home, sweetheart! I missed you so much, you probably wouldn't believe me, but its true...I guess its true when they say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' because its happening to me. If I can't kiss you soon, I'll go bonkers!"

There's more, but you get the idea. He even wrote in tiny little letters at the bottom of the page "P.S. I love you". I mean, c'mon, what 14 yr old girl wouldn't be a little ga-ga knowing that her boyfriend not only declared his love, but if he didn't kiss her soon this guy would "go bonkers"? I hated leaving him. But nothing compared to being torn apart from my very best girlfriend, and only true friend to this day, 30 yrs later. But that's another blog.

I dated sporadically when I first moved to FL. The boys weren't the same. Until the summer of 1980. That's when I met a pro baseball player named Shep. He was a pitcher and if I told you his real name, you can still look up his stats. Shep was from New Hampshire originally. He was handsome in a rugged way; perpetually tanned from summers in the sun, tall--like 6'4, and hard bodied from constant exercise, not the way players use steroids now. He was slow to smile, but his green eyes would meet mine from the bullpen with a wink that said a million words. We corresponded for over 7 years, and I won't bore you with all the  letters he sent, but I do feel compelled to share just a few lines he wrote that still get to me just like they did the day I first read them:

     " The road to Love is Long, but together our love is strong..." March 1981
     "Do you miss me, baby? I miss you. I think you were made for me. What do you think? M y heart's full of love and passion for you. Amo Usted.."  May 1981
      A goofy card with a monkey hanging in a tree, the front beginning with "I'm not pretty..." with the inside inscribed, "but I'm faithful."
Oh, how I'd love to share all the letters and cards with you! Shep was one of the dearest loves of my young life. On a side note, he did find me 10 years later, right after I got divorced. I met him again at my Aunt and Uncle's while my Mom and I were visiting. When I had gone inside the house for something, he asked my family for my hand in marriage. Its with much regret that it didn't work out.

And finally ( Thank God, right?), there was Shaun. We honestly thought we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together. He bought me a "Promise Ring" with two tiny little diamonds and we swore we'd never part. He was also the most beautiful, expressive, writer I have ever been blessed to read and am still overwhelmed at the heart-felt depth of his words. Not only did he write me notes and letters that filled me with a love I've never felt since, he also penned poems and prose about our love and our future together that filled my heart to overflowing with belief and conviction that he spoke the Truth of God's Divine Intervention. Here are just a few lines from a couple cards he'd given me. They don't do him justice, but here they are, just the same:

     "Remember to always hold on to our dream like we hold on to each other...Eventually we'll be able to do both at the same time...and never have to worry about letting each other go of either one of us again...Thank you for sharing the best times of my life...then and now...and those to come. I love you so much..."

One more and then I promise to stop before y'all throw up:

     "I love you, Babe...and I hope God sees it that I should keep doing so...should keep feeling your pleasures and mine...for my greatest pleasure is loving you!"

There have been others. Some not quite believable, others so cheesy, they took the magic away from what might have been something good. And the advent of the computer has made it far too easy to send emails or whatever, instead of taking to time to pick up a pen and write something, ANYTHING, to someone you find special. Doesn't take a great writer to say, " I'm thinking of you today..."

Take a chance. I dare you. You never know what you might receive!

Say It Isn't So!!

I've just heard that "50 Shades..." is being made into a movie. Just when I thought I had seen it all, that perhaps the book's popularity was a fluke, I've been proven wrong. I'm sorry to say it, but either the general population is very unimaginative when it comes to sex or the definition of entertainment has finally hit rock bottom with such an earth-shattering crash, the movie "Ishtar" should be reconsidered as an over looked Oscar worthy classic film. Now I understand why Honey Boo-Boo is believed to be the this century's Shirley Temple. Oh, I beg of you! Save yourselves and rent a porn flick! At least  those films have a plot!

To Be or Not To Be...What a question!

It had come to this.

I was living in Orlando at the time, somewhere between 1998-2003. I had a fantastic job with an upscale department store as the Department Manager for Cosmetic It was my dream job and I loved every minute of it.My younger brother,Todd, lived there as well, working successfully as an actor. Orlando actually had a very impressive, sophisticated theater district that attracted many gifted actors and directors. The Universal theme park was also an active studio, producing several television and movies. He was extremely involved in theater, as well as filming commercials, played a featured character in a TV show and was in a movie with Tom Hanks. To say that I was proud of him would be an understatement. We had always been very close, could--and had-- tell each other everything. He's gay, which was a wonderful perk, because he had beautiful taste in clothing. If not for him, I would've need "GrAnimals" to get dressed. But I digress...

It was a night Wednesday night and I was curled up on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of me and taking very unlady-like slurps from my wine glass. I had just suffered through yet ANOTHER crash and burn relationship that had left me so frustrated, I was beginning to feel like a defective woman. Like I didn't have the "girlfriend gene" or something. And then an idea blossomed and quickly took hold in my wine-blurred brain. I grabbed my phone and quickly called my brother.

     "Todd! Ya gotta come over right now!" It was the kind of demand only an older sister can issue.

    "What? Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

     " Yes. No. Oh, I don't know!! Just get over here!"

While I waited for his arrival, my mind whirled with thoughts and realizations that began to make complete sense to me...

Todd must have set a world speed record to get from his apartment near downtown Orlando to mine on the outskirts of the city. I yanked the front door open while his hand was still on the brass knocker and ushered him in, grabbed his hand and pushed him down on the couch.

     "What's going on? Another romance drama?" Oh, Todd knew me so well, God bless him. I snatched a wine glass from the kitchen and poured him a generous amount before topping off my own. He picked up the bottle and eyed its contents suspiciously. "Kim, how many glasses of this have you had?"

     "I don't know. It doesn't matter." I dismissed his comment with a brush my hand and got right to the point. "Todd, I think I'm gay."

Have you ever seen someone so shocked, they spray whatever liquid in their mouth like Yellowstone's  Old Faithful? My brother's mouthful of wine would've given the geyser some serious competition. He coughed a few times before he croaked, "You what ?"

I began to state my conclusion, " I'm 35 years old. I have yet to be involved in a serious relationship that's lasted longer than 3 years, and I was only 18."

Todd thought I was crazy. Completely out of my mind. But I stood my ground, kept insisting that if I was truly straight, wouldn't something have worked out by now? Finally, with much trepidation, he agreed to introduce me to an aspiring director he knew and we went on a double date. She was extremely interesting. She'd experienced all aspects of the theater, had directed some very intense, controversial shows and was amazingly successful. She seemed genuinely interested in my career. And she was pretty. Petite, short dark hair perfectly styled in a "bob" that was popular at the time. Her face was almost pixie-like if she didn't have the intensity of a talented, dedicated director. Anyway, we (Todd, me and our dates) had a couple of drinks at a popular gay bar, before I decided to head home. She walked me to my car, holding my hand. "Oh no, " I thought, "no, something's not right..." In two seconds, we were standing by my car. I was backed up against the driver's door and she moved in. I towered over her, and didn't think anything could possibly happen without me crouching. But then she made her move. She reached up, grabbed the back of my head, pulled my face towards her's and...BIT ME!! Took the bottom of my lip between her teeth and BIT ME like I was a piece of beef jerky!!! In fact, she drew blood! I pushed her away and jumped into my car so fast, I may have set a world record. I smelled the burning rubber of my tires screeching out of the parking lot until I was almost home.

So that, my gentle readers, is the story of the time I was gay for 5 hours. I finally came out of the closet and declared, "My name is Kim and I'm addicted to testosterone."

Dating Mr. Id

Dr. Sigmund Freud describes the id as the most basic part of our personality. The id knows no judgement or value: no good or evil, no morality. It is regarded as "the great reservoir of the libido", the life instincts that are crucial to survival.

The Ego acts as the reality principle; i.e. it seeks to please the id's drive in realistic ways that will benefit in the long term rather than bring grief. The reality principle that operate the ego is a regulating mechanism that enables the individual to delay gratifying immediate needs and function effectively in the real world. An example would be your partner to resist the urge to screw around with that sleazy bitch at work while committed to you.

Mr. Id shouldn't be confused with a guy who lets you know from the start that he's not looking for a "relationship". I think we've all been involved in at least one situation when a man makes the "declaration of independence" while we insist that all's fair in love and war...until we admit defeat. The difference with Mr. Indie and Mr. Id is that the former is, for the most part, a genuinely nice guy. He actually enjoys women and their individual quirks. Whether you find yourself unexpectedly single in your 40s+ or have been without a long term partner for years, Mr. Indie can be a wonderful man to hang out with: there's no pressure, no game-playing and an evening with him is guaranteed fun, as long as you accept and respect the terms of the relationship. 

Mr. Id, however, is an entirely different animal (usually a jackass). This is the guy who isn't particularly good looking--he's not hideous, just not...exceptional. He's often a disgruntled employee...in fact, he's usually disgruntled about everything, and whines just enough to catch the attention of a vulnerable, nurturing woman.
He begins to set his trap with lists of the indignities he's suffered through, even though he's done nothing to deserve them. He claims that his I.Q. is so incredibly high, management can't possibly understand him at work. His marriage of somewhere between 10 and 20 years has just recently ended in divorce because she didn't understand his sexual needs. In fact, the only time he's enjoyed the company of women (until now) is when he attends strip clubs or similar establishments. And the ladies employed at these choice venues appreciate his...well...rather large..."gift". But what he'd really like to do is settle down...find someone who understands him and his immeasurable I.Q. and other...characteristics. As he pleads his pitiful case, his unknowing victim nods in understanding. This poor man, she concludes, has been so mistreated, its obvious that his exaggerated personal claims are just a way of protecting his severe inferiority complex. All he needs is love and reassurance. All he needs is her.

The first few months are quite pleasant. Ms. Nurturer finds that she has quite a bit in common with Mr. Id. They share a love of Astronomy, and have read many of the same books on the subject. They enjoy photography. And his claim of being well-endowed is actually true...his performance isn't quite what she expected, but it takes time to get used to each other's...rhythm. They settle into a comfortable pattern of talking daily, seeing each other a couple of times a week, with him spending the night at her place once or twice a month. It feels...comfortable. Then, one night that they had planned to go to the movies, he calls and asks her if she would mind if they went out another night? Seems a couple of the married guys from work got permission from their wives to go out for a few beers and they wanted 'Ol Id to go along. She hides her disappointment  and reassures him that its fine, to have a good time. A few weeks later, he's invited to a birthday party for one of his co-workers. She finds it a little odd that he doesn't invite her to go along, but shrugs it off as just one of those things. Then, the nights out with the guys turns into nights out with friends, and the friends are no longer from work. They begin to see each other less. He continues to go out more. His calls become vague, unless he's complaining about work. Then, on the weekend they had planned to go to the coast, he doesn't call. Ms. Nurturer calls his cell phone, leaving countless messages of confusion, worry and finally rage. Mr. Id returns her calls on Monday evening and when Ms. Nurturer demands furiously what has been going on, he replies casually that he went with some friends to a bar to see this great band. She demands to know if his "friends" were mixed company. He replies that, yes, some of his friends were girls. Shocked by his audacity, she spits out what he could do (and most likely was) with his "friends" and that she doesn't want to see him anymore. His voice is cool as he announces that he knew she didn't "get" him. She severs the connection and throws her cell phone across the room, marches to the kitchen and yanks open the refrigerator freezer and pulls out a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

The next day, she opens her Face Book page only to see she has a message from Mr. Id. She hesitates before clicking on the link to his FB page, only to be greeted by a brand new profile picture of Mr. Id along with a photo of another girl thanking him for lunch and how she was looking forward to seeing him later that evening. He agreed, commenting that he hoped they could continue the "trouble" they'd started over the weekend.

These men, these Mr. Ids, are very distinctive. Where the fun-loving Mr. Indies go above and beyond to make each and every woman in their life special, Mr. Id has absolutely no respect for women at all. Most think of females as sex objects and nothing more. An average man finds intelligence as attractive as physical beauty. Mr. Id prides himself on how many strippers he's dated. There is nothing lacking in his exaggerated confidence--this man is as transparent as he first seems. Sadly, they're also the most deceptive, because...honestly? its doesn't seem possible until the relationship ends that a...man...such as this...could possibly be so delusional to believe they're...The Gift to the Female Race.

Thankfully, Mr. Ids aren't common. But should you find yourself involved with one or just escaping the mind-boggling confusion of a relationship with a Mr. Id, I promise you: You will have a completely new appreciation for all the normal guys we took for granted before. And Mr. Indies will have a deliciously new meaning!

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Honey Boo-Boo? Really?

50 Shades of Puce

I've been itching to write about this...book. And I'm going to try to be as sensitive as I possibly can, as it is quite obvious that Fifty Shades of Grey  has a very strong following. It has been referenced on every TV show, discussed between countless of women through social media or whispers and has even increased the birth rate (stated by Hoda and Kathy Lee). When I heard that, I knew I had to read it. For a book to increase the birth rate had to be good!! We don't have bookstores where I live and I couldn't wait even one day for Amazon to deliver it, so I ordered it through my iPad, snuggled back, ready for some wild, hot, incredible sex. Okay...so the beginning was kind of slow and fairly predictable, but that was fine...the author had to set the scene and why waste words when there was steamy sex to be described? So, I kept reading...and reading...Got through the virgin who'd never had an interest in a boyfriend even as she graduated college...understood the attraction to the impossibly rich, gorgeous young man (the guy wasn't even 30!)...oh, but wait...there was some steamy stuff happening...where they having...sex? Really? Oh, come on...all the control crap, the contract signing game and this was the sex?? This was my "I have a headache" sex! And what's this crap about "vanilla sex"? I didn't read about anything more exciting than maybe "vanilla with sprinkles".

I don't consider myself a whore, ladies. I have not sleep with hundreds of men. And not all of them were...well, lets just say Advil came in handy. But you wanna know what the opposite of  "vanilla sex" is? I would happily explain the...erotic ballet that makes sex anything but plain, but I don't think this site will allow me to elaborate. And it never involves being treated like a submissive concubine being chained in some sick torture chamber being beaten just to see how much she could take. I've got nothing against experimenting with certain forms of restraint. Or being submissive. But only with a man I trust. Not some control freak, I don't care how much money he has.

By the time I finished the book, I was angry as hell. There were so many opportunities to find out why this guy had fifty shades of anything, but only two were explored and the most important one passed right over: physical abuse!!! The cycle of it, the reason for it, where this virgin's mind was at that she thought this was acceptable, even once? Skipping over that set women back to caveman days. Women are buying this, getting turned on because of it, making it acceptable for a man to beat the shit out of her because now its our deepest fantasies, not our fears. Ladies, please..buy a Harlequin. Erica Jong!!!!! Judith Krantz!!! Oh my god, both authors don't (pardon the pun) beat around the bush! Wifey by Judy Blume may be a little dated for you, but not the contents!!! I can provide a list of incredibly erotic books if requested...or maybe not...we're already over populated!

You don't think I could end this without my very own version of Fifty Shades, do you? I mean, c'mon...! I am...well...me!

I met him at work and I hated him. The mere appearance of this blond hair, blue eyed Mr.50 made every woman in the office swoon. Rumor had it that he was loaded, divorced and spoiled his women rotten. I thought he was a pompous ass trying to pretend he had class when he wouldn't have known, let alone appreciate van Gogh's "Starry Starry Night" as anything more than the name of a song. And he had a nasty temper.

 A couple years later, when my long-awaited divorce had been final for a while, that Mr. 50 strolled into the office to visit with the company's president, which involved stopping at the desk of every female on the way, including mine. He always called me Miss Kimmie and it irritated the hell out of me, but I had to admit the two years had been good to Mr.50, too. He'd acquired the company he'd been VP of for years and was living even higher on the hog (a very appropriate term for him, I thought). We had been forced to work more closely together when a colleague had left, and I had to admit that when he dropped the attitude and explained why he did things a certain way, it made sense and I quickly picked up his style of mixing, ordering, delivering. It became a kind of challenge for me and I began to take the initiative to call salesmen and regular customers myself to make sure that each truck we sent out was loaded to capacity...anything for him to stay off my back. No-no-no...not yet! I didn't know hw soon I'd crave to have him on my back...but go get a bottle of ice water and wait for it. There was one afternoon in particular that I'll never forget..and how could I? It started years of the most over-the-top, insatiable, sex that I'd ever known...the kind you smile about when you gingerly sit in your chair...Okay, I gave it away, but he worked slowly...first, it was concern because I didn't seem myself and he began to call me with excuses to talk to me personally...then it was the gift of a cell phone (this was 1997-portable cell phones were a big deal!) along with constant offers to come by his house to talk...(right...), listen to some music...and did I like a particular champagne? Why sure! Dom! What else? It took a particularly terrible day before I agreed to stop by after work, but made it clear that this was just to talk, like he'd offered. It was all there as promised...he had changed from usual work attire into jeans and I realized we were fairly close in age. Albums were spread across the floor and there was a bottle of Dom chilling in an ice bucket, with another in the 'fridge, just in case. It took me 24 hrs before I couldn't take it anymore and the rest...you already know. He treated me like a princess...anything I wanted was mine for the asking. That wasn't my style (its since changed and I suggest the sooner you do the same, the happier you'll be!), so he used to make up excuses to give me presents.When there was a particular event he was invited to where the guests were Fortune 500 members, he always brought me with him, but only after shopping for an entire ensemble.  We spent idyllic weekends at his house in the Keys..He flew me out to Beverly Hills...money was no object...and the sex? Chocolate isn't even close to what we shared. We agreed there were two things that were off limits: no three-somes with other women and physical  abuse. Other than that, there were no rules. We tried it all. And I liked it.  He and I made Fifty Shades of Grey look like a "how-to manual" of learning not to lay there like a log.

C'mon girls...you know what to do...and if you don't, tell the guy and ask if its okay to "play". Really, unless it involves cutlery, he's not going to say no...and please...use your copy of  "Fifty Shades..."  to light the fireplace!

Honesty and Trust Revisited

I am cynical. After reading all the responses to the last post, I realize that somewhere in this...unexpected journey through the labyrinth of romance, I forgot what was waiting for me in the center: pure, unconditional love. I got lost in the mind games and the promises that were never kept and...stopped believing. Like a child who discovers who Santa Claus is, there seems to be a certain innocence that's lost...But from the messages I've read, the belief in love (and Santa) isn't lost.

A Florida mother of two kids (ages 20 and 14 respectively) wrote that she had married a man who had lied to her throughout their marriage, then she survived their divorce that could have made her curse Cupid and his stupid Arrow for the rest of her life, but she didn't. She kept on loving. She made some mistakes. And she learned about herself, about the choices she'd made. Most importantly, she didn't lose the belief that when there's love, trust and honesty are a given. She's a very brave woman. She's also engaged.

There were several emails regarding truth and online dating. I agree with everyone. To borrow an overused, yet beloved quote, cyber-dating "is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." I've known men and women actually have a complete "relationship" over the phone and/or online: A starry-eyed beginning, comfortable middle when you might admit you're still kinda going out with ____, but its really over, to a screaming, tearful end when______ answers the phone. One of the better dating sites states that if a member corresponds with 100 potential mates, 50% of the time, your future partner is in the Top 10 and 17% of the time, the first person on your list you'll end up dating. Not marrying...DATING!! Do you know it would take @ 17 hrs to correspond (that's means writing more than a couple of lines and forwarding it) with 100 people? A beloved friend of mine put it best: " Whoever is dishonest with very little will be dishonest with very much". A wise woman indeed. She never ceases to amaze me.

So, I will remember what my friends and readers have taught me; love is not lost...nor am I. The gift that awaits in the center of the labyrinth is mine, as long as my faith remains strong. I've got to stop being cynical, blaming the mind games and empty promises, because the space I give them is far too valuable. And as for those who chose lies over honesty--chew on this for a while:

"I'm not upset that you lied to me; I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."
                                                                               --Friedrich Nietzsche

The lies about honesty and other misconceptions

I read recently that, when asked what's the most important character trait in a potential partner, both men and women rated honesty. In fact, honesty out-rated physical looks, even financial success in some cases. But what is honesty? Webster's Dictionary defines honesty as "truthful; trustworthy" and "being what it seems". Well, which definition are we looking for? Most of us would agree that that someone who is truthful and trustworthy is what we think of when asked to elaborate on 'honesty'. So, when one partner asks the other, "Does this make me look fat?" do we answer truthfully and risk certain death? Or do we answer what we know our partner wants to hear--"being what it seems". Using that much less dangerous type of honesty will eventually gain us the gold-starred "trustworthy". Seems easy enough, right? In the perfect relationship world, it would be a piece of cake...well, perhaps that's the wrong choice of words, considering the implications of the truthful answer to "Does this make me look fat?".

We're living in a world of instant gratification. Want to know something, anything, "Google"it. Forget actually taking the time of finding a book on the subject and reading about the topic of interest--we don't have time for that. How often do we find out important information about a friend or relative by their status on Facebook, My Space or Twitter, rather than picking up our cell phones (I'm not even going there!) and asking, "How are you?" And when was the last time you received, or wrote a handwritten letter? My point is when we begin to date someone, the time between what used to be "courting" has turned into a full-blown relationship in a matter of weeks. We expect our partners to be truthful and trustworthy from the start. Those are impossible standards to live up to in a short amount of time. Trust isn't a given, its earned. In his book, "Beyond Boundaries", Dr. John Townsend states that trust "is the ability to be vulnerable with another person...you feel that the deepest parts of you will be safe with them." How can we possibly expect that from someone we're only just beginning to know? Why should we expect  someone to trust us without proof?

Which brings us back to honesty. And my personal experiment using the "truthful" definition. Let me just tell you...it wasn't pretty. We'd met online (where else?), did the emailing thing, moved to texting, and eventually phone calls. This progression took time! Like maybe four or five DAYS! Everyone has a preferred way of communicating and this guy loved to talk. He spoke like an old fashioned cowboy, smooth...and slow...as molasses. I'm from the Northeast, where speed-talking is an athletic event but I do enjoy a good story, and have found listening the best way to learn all you need to know,and never giving anything away. It was a hot summer afternoon, I had work to do, and he was into the second hour about how he'd overcame the most extreme case of stuttering known in the medical field by himself and taught his solution to a very well-known singer who has a definitive stutter when he speaks, but not when he sings (this was way before the release of "The King's Speech"). Well, lo and behold, it worked!! Okay, call me cruel,. but I'd had enough. So, I asked him if I could be honest? He said "Absolutely." And I told him the truth; the only gift he may have given to medicine was using that story as anesthesia for brain surgery patients. Maybe that was a bit harsh...but it was honest!

Step back from the need to honest about everything, all at once. Give honesty a chance to live up to its "truthful, trustworthy" definition. Be patient. You might find that you enjoy learning about someone slowly...like each honest admission is a gift, rather than TMI. Trying to rush the relationship process won't get you anywhere, except hurting someone with a truth they didn't necessarily need to hear. Honestly.

Joys of cyber dating II

Before I begin to regale you with a few more online anecdotes, I just wanted to thank all of you who have read and/or commented on the two blogs. I've been told by a few readers that its difficult to post a comment on this site and have chosen to write me via gmail/G+ or facebook. What ever way you chose, please keep the comments coming! Whether the reviews are positive or critical, they give me an idea whose reading this and what might make this more compelling. I've even been challenged to a female vs male online date-off: who suffers more? What do you think of that? I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of men who took the time to read and comment as well. As I said in the first post, my objective here isn't to bash men, but to learn more about each other and why we do the...uh...rather...exceptional...things never to be forgotten. I promise I'll share some of what readers have told me (I'm not the only one who received "package" deliveries!) in just a sec, but first, I have to tell you about a man who wrote one of the sweetest, most heartfelt (see? I do have feelings!) messages I've ever read. Anonymity is a given at all times; no one deserves to be hurt or embarrassed, at any cost. This young man (a very good looking young man, I might add, ladies!) was particularly interested in the online dating concept, as he was having a very difficult time meeting women who didn't have "an agenda" (another topic we will cover in a future post). This man has been through a lot of emotional turmoil recently and isn't quite ready to jump into  a committed relationship yet, but  truly wants the opportunity to get to know a "good woman" on a different level than just a physical one. Of course, he hopes, as we all do (yes, even me!) that a friendship will develop into something more in the future, but right now, he doesn't want the pressure of being a "boyfriend".

Is this possible? Can two people who have a mutual attraction for each other be patient enough to learn about one another, begin to trust one another, before jumping into bed?

Another gentleman responded that the whole online dating concept was just another way to "hook up". Its his opinion that women believe their power over men is sex. He believes that a woman will use her sexuality as a type of leverage to get what they want--boyfriend, husband, money, status, etc. Although I've personally never engaged in that kind of behavior, I can't say he's completely incorrect.  Women are exploited as sex objects to most men. Have you ever seen an overweight, unattractive NFL cheerleader? Been in a sports bar that had a predominately male wait staff? Yes, this man's response may be extreme, but he had to learn it somewhere.

One of the more popular cyber dating services claims that for every 7 dates, a member might meet one person they find a deeper connection with. I don't think those are such bad odds...and it sure beats  going to a bar to meet Mr. Perfect who can't remember his own name, let alone yours.

Regardless of the way we choose to find a potential mate, we're attempting to fulfill a basic instinct of sharing our life with another. God knows (and, apparently, so do I) its far from easy. Its not always happy. But there are those incredible times of joy and love that keeps our hope alive.

This post is much more serious than I had intended, but judging from the responses I've received, its a subject that needs to be considered. So, please...keep your messages coming. Use facebook, gmail, G+...whatever makes you feel comfortable enough to share your thoughts without concern. I hope I've proved to you that I am not trying to cause harm or unfair judgement. There are never wrong answers...just another opportunity to learn what makes us tick.

Oh, the joy of cyber dating!

Okay, kids...I get it. The first post fell kind of flat. This is all new to me and I really am looking forward to your participation. So please give me a second chance and try a different approach.

I think most of us have been on at least one date that you met online. It really is the perfect way to meet someone; you can sit in your oldest, most comfortable pjs, your hair a little over due for a shampoo , munching on your favorite forbidden food and shop for men the same way we shop for shoes. Its the dating girls dream!

And then you meet the guy. You know that commercial about the girl who is meeting her date for the first time and announces that she met him on the internet, and he's a french model? And this scruffy 7 ft guy, complete with a fanny pack, half smiles a 'Bonjour" and walks off with his arm around the (God forgive me) air head? Yeah, that's how a lot of first meetings happen. Its funny as hell when you finally escape to the sanctuary of home, but during the date? It can be anything from frightening to unadulterated fury.

I live in a very rural area where single men are scarce. So online dating services are really the only way for me to meet anyone. I admit, I've been very fortunate to have only met one freak--oh,but he was a doozy! Claimed he was in love with me the first night we met, and would I mind shaving his back? I was outta there before he got the razor out.  Oh, and there was this other guy I met for coffee. He was extremely good looking, and I honestly wondered why a guy like him was bothering with computer dating when any woman in their right mind would go nuts over him. We had a nice hour or so, he walked me to my car, kissed me perfectly and said that he thought we would get along just fine. No sooner did I get home, I received a picture text from him. "How romantic," I thought as it downloaded. I opened it up to a "full monty', the complete package! And I couldn't help it; I started laughing! The poor guy made the mistake of calling me immediately after sending the pic and I was still laughing--not giggling, but side splitting laughter. When  he asked me what was so funny, I was cracking up so hard, I swear I almost wet my pants. Not surprisingly, he hung up on me. A few hours later, he texted me that I was the most insensitive woman he'd ever met. I guess he didn't display his 'package' very often!

These are only two of the hilarious stories I have about online dating!

Tell me some of your's...especially if you can beat the insecure guy with the...interesting  pic text delivery!  Consider it a challenge! I've got a few more "meet and greets" to share...See if you can beat  them!

Until next time, happy dating!

If you're looking for tips on how to find the ideal man, you won't find them here. After 3 decades a hopeful, enthusiast quest for The One, I've finally realized that my perfect bed partner is my dog, Maisy. That bright-eyed, floppy-eared black mutt is unconditional love personified...well, dog-ified. Don't get me wrong! I am not a bitter, middle aged man-hater. On the contrary. Despite the heartbreaks, disappointments and a few "what the hell was I THINKING??!!", the male species continues to fascinate me. If men are from Mars and women from Venus, then the red planet must be filled with self-proclaiming Casanovas. The legends and stories that've spun along with the meat-laden rotisseries over countless fires must've been so incredible, Venus up and moved to the other side of Earth. But even the best intended Venusian yearns for a challenging project and men continue to provide mind-boggling puzzles that never cease to entertain. We still haven't quite figured out how to get a guy to do the laundry without turning our favorite white blouse pink, but we're making progress every day.

Though the together-forever commitment may have eluded me, I can honestly admit that I've never been bored.  So, rather than attempt to comprehend the elusive, yet endearing masculine creatures--or bash them--it would be more amusing to share some of the humoreous situations my friends and I have found ourselves in while dating. And these ancidotes are not limited to male-female relationships--Oh No!!!! Why should women have all the fun? Same sex relationships go through the all the drama just as we do. Except they're usually better dressed.

And so, as the author (and slightly insane person for even thinking of this), I hereby declare this as an open forum for anyone who wants to entertain, enlighten, and give all of us something to smile about (especially when we admit being in the same kind of relationship, too). C'mon...write a little something (names are NOT necessary!)...you know you want to...And who knows? We just might solve the pink laundry mystery?