Month: June 2011

My Ponycorn Wish List

Here is yet another online personal ad I came across:

I have all the qualities most women should like and appreciate in a man. I love my kids and take care of them. I have a job. I have all of my own teeth and they are real. I don’t live with my mom, I have my own place. I don’t do drugs. I have never been arrested (not saying i haven’t had fun, I just never got caught). I have a great smile. I will open your door for you. And I’m a nice guy.

Every online dating site I’ve ever seen has no less than 2452 ads that sound exactly like this. Apparently, according to these ads, all we women should want in a man is someone who has a job, takes care of kids, has a nice smile with all the original teeth, isn’t a junkie or on parole, and will open doors for us. Hmm……………… Based on countless conversations I have had with myself and other single women, I feel there may be a very large gap in our culture between what women want and what men think women should want. And I’m pretty sure nobody is getting laid (at least not well) in that gap.

You can’t be a smart, straight, single woman without, asking yourself if being partnered with a man requires some sacrifice of standards, expectations, self-respect, and emotional need. Well maybe you can, but I can’t. I can’t because, based on years of research, observation, and analysis, I believe that my chances of finding a sensitive, emotionally evolved, intelligent, funny, hot, straight man who is great in bed, are about as good as finding a ponycorn (1/2 pony, 1/2 unicorn).

Whenever this topic comes up in conversation (which is often when women and alcohol get together), I hear the same refrain: “You can’t have everything. Nobody is perfect. You have to give something up if you want to find love.”

I don’t know if I agree or disagrees—it probably depends on the day. But what I find interesting is which item from my Ponycorn Wish List people think I should give up. Many have suggested I give up Hot. Here’s the thing: when I say hot, I do not mean arm candy. I don’t give a flying fig if any other person on the planet finds my man hot—I only care if I find him hot. Physical chemistry is very important and a relationship without it just doesn’t work for me.

So what’s left?

: Someone recently suggested to me that intelligence (in men) is highly overrated as far as relationships go. I’m not willing to take it off the list entirely, but I am willing to be more flexible and open-minded with my definition of intelligence.

Sensitive/Emotionally evolved
: I’m torn on this one–on the one hand I really want it, on the other hand I think it’s right up there with “dude with 4 arms.” Total fantasy. Perhaps I should replace it with: Someone who at least knows they are not emotionally evolved and is willing to poke fun at himself about it and take direction.

: No one has ever suggested I take funny off the list. Huh. That’s funny.

Hot/Great in Bed
: Yes, I’ve already talked about this, but it warrants double mention. Look, I know physical attraction and hot sex don’t last forever and are not enough to make a relationship succeed. But I also know it’s an important thing for me and I want to enjoy it while it’s there. Life is short. The real struggle with this one is how particularly we all define great sex. That and… what woman with 2 kids in her late-thirties has the time or energy to test drive every hot rod on the lot?

What’s on your list? Have you found everything on it in one person or have you made compromises? And how’s that working out? Tell me….I gotta know!?

Not The Marrying Kind?

Part of separation is figuring out if I want to be married at all, to anyone, ever. I know, I know, “I’m never getting married again!” is a natural response to divorce. And I know lots of people change their minds once time heals their wounds. But, for me, this is not about being angry or bitter and I have none of the “men are scum” feelings. My exish-husband and I are on good terms and trying to do this in a way that causes the least amount of damage possible.

The thing is, I am so in love with my new-found freedom that I have to wonder if I am just not the marrying kind.

I married my husband when I was 30 after knowing him for only 4 months. I used to joke that a “quickie wedding” was the only way I would make it down the aisle with anyone–no time for second thoughts. I don’t want to imply that I didn’t take marriage and commitment seriously because nothing could be further from the truth. Maybe that’s why it scared me so much. My husband was the first and only man I’ve lived with. I’d had plenty of boyfriends over the years and a few had suggested we live together; but I ended those relationships soon after the suggestion was made.

Living with someone was my version of saving myself for marriage; I didn’t want to do it unless I saw myself marrying them. Plus, I really like living alone. When you live alone you can invite friends over any time you like. But when you live with someone you can’t exactly ask them to leave for few days just because you’re in a bad mood. I have many days where I don’t want to talk to or look at anyone—usually about 3, every 28 days or so.

I’m picky and I don’t share my personal space well. I don’t like how other people do dishes or how horrible I sound when I ask them to do it my way. I don’t want to talk for the first 20-40 minutes of every morning and don’t want to feel guilty about it. (My kids are learning to talk among themselves until mommy has had her coffee.) I rearrange the furniture every 2-3 months. I alternate between extreme neat-freakiness and total slovenliness depending on—oh heck, I don’t even know.

I like the space and mystery that dating allows. Spending an hour primping for a date is a form of foreplay for me that gets ruined when my love watches me try on 57 outfits before settling on the one that looks smokin’ hot in that “I totally didn’t even try to look hot” kind of way. I’m perpetrating the lie as much for my enjoyment as his.

Living with someone kills the romance for me. If we know anything about each other’s bowel movement today, there will be no hank-panky tonight. If my man saw me pluck anything from anywhere today, there will be no horizontal mambo tonight. If I watched him cut his toenails, trim old-man hairs, or examine something he found between his teeth, we won’t be celebrating Humptoberfest. I’m weird like that. I can’t help it, I’ve tried to change, but so far no luck. So why not accept my particular fetishes of immaculate personal hygiene and men who can disappear before my coffee is ready?

My dad and his girlfriend have the kind of relationship I think I’d like. They have been together for years; are deeply in love; and do all the normal couple stuff like watch movies on the couch in their PJs, take vacations together, and lean on each other when life gets rough. But they have their own houses and so spending time or the night is always a choice. I think this is perfect. It’s not love I’m unsure of, just the cohabitation. Maybe my next house should be a duplex.

The Big O

I’m lying in bed with a beer, a bowl of the kids leftover mac and cheese and my laptop, thinking about just how long it has been since….I got some. Clearly, I’m ovulating. The big O: that time of the month when women become crippled with the predominantly male affliction of desperation and increasingly flexible standards.

Who knew Shel Silverstein wrote erotica?

I have still not located the BOB since moving last fall. I did, however, find a box of old CDs (think Lilith Fair and Hootie and the Blowfish) that the movers snarkily marked “really cool music.” I have a feeling my BOB is enshrined somewhere in the moving company’s break room. I hope they’re enjoying it.

My big O always gives me more sympathy and tolerance towards men: it can’t be easy to feel as desperate as I do right now, every waking minute of their day. And that’s just sex; love is a far more complex form of torture. Speaking of torture, it’s been at least a week since we’ve checked in with the world of online dating; let’s see what’s happening there!

So many bad online dating profiles, so little time. I have an entire post planned to breakdown the online-dude archetypes (make sure you have at least 3 photos of yourself hunting or fishing because EVERYONE knows dead shit gets you laid!). But on a recent trip to one of the free online dating sites (because I’m cheap and window shopping should be free anyway), I came across a little pot of gold. I call him “Guy I want to hook-up with someone who is not quite as hell-bent on self-destruction as me” or “Guy” for short.

Here is Guy’s profile:

Willing to lie about how we met…

SWM in frowned-upon job seeks whiny shrew for unfulfilling sex, and mutual psychological torture. I enjoy drinking, smoking, pornography, and self-righteous indignation. For fun, I enjoy browsing other people’s profiles and making shallow judgments about their integrity, and social skills. I have middling intelligence but try to appear smarter by affecting a world-weary air, memorizing useless facts, and chuckling at my own mean-spirited, agenda-driven jokes. I’m 38, but look 59 and feel 65. I’m not holding my breath, but I am looking for interesting conversation with someone that will not have to be quoted later on in a courtroom. 

YOU: You are a man-hating, crazy **** with a misplaced sense of entitlement and utopian expectations. Over time you will blame me and grow hostile when I don’t fulfill every need you’ve ever had. Bonus points if you just finished dating every guy in town but now want to take your time with me. For our first date we should head over to Target. You wouldn’t have to get all dressed up and stuff, I could find out what your favorite fruit was and you could find out if I blush when we walk through the lingerie section.I would be open to an unsatisfying fling but prefer a long-term, soul crushing descent into alcoholism and pills. Age unimportant, but I often condescend to women under 28 and rehash mother issues with women over 47. Serious replies only, please. 

*     *     *

Now that is how you write a dating profile, motherfuckers.

I wrote to Guy and asked his permission to put his profile on my blog. (I totally didn’t have to do that since these sites are public, but I just wanted you to know what a moral and conscientious person I am—moral, conscientious and bat-shit crazy.) So now the question is: will Guy get more interest from the ladies via the dating website or my wee little smut blog? I don’t know how the numbers will pan out, but any date Guy gets from my blog will undoubtably be a hell of a lot more fun!

P.S. (Guy had a more thoughtful and serious second half of his profile, but serious and thoughtful have no place on my blog.) 

Holy Shizzle!

Woweeekazzoweeeee! Last week I installed a Paypal button on this blog and began some shameless begging for donations to help me get to the Blogher (the biggest women’s blogging conference in the WORLD!) this August. Guess what? It totally worked! In a little over a week I raised $1570! Holy guacamole!

I burst into tears when the first donation came in and then danced around my living room like a maniac when I reached my goal. I am so grateful for everyone’s encouragement and support and blown away that people (some who don’t even know me) would dip into their wallets to help me. I have registered for the conference, reserved my hotel room and bought my plane ticket—it’s really happening!

From now until the conference I will be busting my buns to crank out great posts and publicize the heck out of my two little blogs. If you still want to help me make it to the big time, here’s what you can do:

1. Subscribe to my blog(s). You don’t have to read every post, but subscriber numbers are an important part of the game.

2. Comment on my blog(s). Comments can be as simple as “Ha ha!” or “How are you not famous yet?” The big-wigs look at the number of comments more than the content.

3. Post links to my blog(s) on your social media outlets (twitter, Facebook wall and groups, etc.)

4. Email posts to friends your who would enjoy them and encourage them to do steps 1-3.

5. Comment on other blogs you read with something like “reminds me of…” and include a link to my blog in your comment. 

What’s in it for you?
1. If I become famous, you will know a famous person and you can sell unflattering lies and photos of me to Perez Hilton and the National Enquirer.

2. After August 3rd, I promise to stop bugging you about this.

3. If I come home from the conference with any kind of job or representation offer, I will throw a huge kick-butt party to which you will all be invited. This party will include stand-up comedy performances by yours truly and a few of my favorite hot chick local comics (ladies, you know who you are!).

4. Massive karma points. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you!