Where is my BRAZILIAN LOVER?

......Every movie, book and song about a woman starting over finds a Brazilian lover. Where is mine. Is there a website I can find one, is there retail store where I get one on sale?

The Classiest Soiree in Town

Picture this.

NYE...
My Date telling me we are going to the "CLASSIEST SORIEE IN TOWN" BLACK TIE REQUIRED
Me dressed in a beautiful gown, $600.00 PRADA shoes.
My date nice suit (not really black tie, but okay...I don't take this as a clue!)
Us walking downtown past crowded restaurants full of party revelers.
Me getting really excited. Are we going to the Fairmont? The St. Clarie? I can't wait!

Well you "wait for it"

The Classiest Soiree in town was a POOL HALL!

Picture IT!!

ME IN MY BEAUTIFUL FULL LENGHT GOWN AND $600 PRADA SHOES!!!!

Needless to say, I drank my self under the table with $20.00 shots of tequila (two at a time), and then proceeded to let my date know that he was done!!!!!!!

I AM BACK!

I think enough time has gone by where I can wrtie about this past year with out having to change any names.

;)

Confession # 103

I am enjoying myself with the younger man.

We have had two dates since our initial meeting, so I guess that means I have seen him 3 nights in a row, and I have really enjoyed myself all three times—but more in a comical sense than anything else.

He is sweet and he is cute, he’s just young! He is so very young.

Thursday night we made a date for dinner at his favorite restaurant. I was a little early so I wondered into the bar and ordered a drink.

Forty-five minutes later, I started my second martini and was about to order food since it looked like I had been stood up. The two women next to me at the bar, with whom I struck up an immediate friendships with, started asking me more detailed questions about my date so we could come up with an acceptable reason for why he did not show. Once I told them my date was not just younger, but MUCH younger than I, they both looked at me and said, ‘Sweetie, if he is not at least 32, he is not going to know to look for you in the bar.’

Really? I asked.

They both just smiled and said, Really!

I got up and went to the reception area, not there. I decide what the hell and took a peek outside. Sure enough there he was, waiting on a bench, looking worried that he has been stood up.

It was pretty funny…

After ten minutes of sitting alone, I order a martini and made friends with the women next to me and went on with my evening. After 45 minutes of sitting alone outside, he was still sitting there alone! Pretty funny and a little sad.

I laughed. He was embarrassed. My new friends smiled and giggled. My other friend who I called to ask if he wanted to join me for dinner, since I had—for all intents and purposes—believed I had been stood up, arrived and immediately struck up a conversation with my two new friends—he so good at that. The three left to get a table of their own.

Was it really in my early to mid-thirties that I started to wait for my table at a restaurant in the bar? We use to go to bars all the time after work in my late twenties/early thirties, but that was to just to grab a quick drink before running home. I don’t remember, but then again I was married, drinks with friends, dinner with my husband, who, if we were eating at the restaurant, would find me in the bar.

Is ‘cocktails in the bar’ part of a social evolution to restaurant dinning that I was not aware of? Or is it the antiquated custom of my generation?

If it is a social evolution, a learning process, my young man has a lot to learn. I can teach him.

By the time summer is over and I release my younger man back into the wild, he will be as good if not better than my gentleman friend who came to rescue me and walked off with the two dates, and never let my date or my two new friends know that we even knew each other. ☺

Confession # 102

I have been carried back to my high school days with one song.

Vienna by Ultravox!

Please tell me I am not the only one who remembers Ultravox.

God! I loved this song…
(It is playing in the background right now)

Whatever happened to them? What happened to Echo and the Bunnymen, Yaz/Eurasure, The Smiths, The Plimsouls, Siouxsie and the Banshees (okay that was college)? But seriously, what happened to them.

Tomorrow night I am going on a date with a man 10 years my junior. TEN YEARS! He will not even know who these bands are?

I am pretty nervous about this date for so many reasons, the 'ten years' is just the latest thing to pop up but it is a big thing!

What could we possibly have in common? How could we possibly relate to each other?

If it wasn’t for the fact that I have had a crush on this man for sometime, and if it did not turn out that he has had a crush on me as well, this whole deal would be best left in the land of fantasy. But what if there is something there?

I did have a thing with a younger man last year, but he was here on business for just a couple of days. He did not live here. I did not see him every single day. And he was only 9 years my junior!

(Another song from high school is playing in the background—ironically it is “Love My Way” by the Psychedelic Furs)

When I did my survey it came out pretty much as I expected down gender lines:

Women: 100% said Go For It!
Men: 100% said Don’t!

I was amused at the results, but not really surprised.

Where could this possibly go? I don’t see myself having another child and a younger man would want one. I am in command of my life and a younger man, well this younger man, is still finding himself.

(David Bowie & Queen “Under Pressure”)

I guess if I look at this in the positive. I could train him. I could have non-Viagra sex. I could just have a summer fling. I could… BUT I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN!

(The Tubes “What Do You Want From Life” my iPod must be hooked into my psyche)

(Talk Talk “Life’s What You Make It” I am proofing)

Damn it! Why am I being such prude? I will let the next song decide!

(The Clash “I fought the Law”—Is that an answer or a warning)

HELP!

(Blind Faith “Can’t Find My Way Home”—proofing again. Not an 80’s song but the perfect one for how I am feeling right now. This song is a whole blog entry in itself. Someday I will write about it, and you will all understand why I am going to do what I am going to do.)

Are you naked? And other stupid questions men ask.

I have pulled myself off of Match.com because for the most part, I have only met total and complete losers or pigs! The last one took the cake.

This guy (classic over-compensator) tried to pass himself off as a sexual god, when in fact he was just a nasty little horn dog. He would ask me to tell him something personal about myself. Something so he could get to know the real me. Once I would give in, he would turn it into some lewd sexual advance. I just rolled my eyes and imagined this guy sitting in front of his computer looking at porn sites and jacking off because he could never pleasure a real woman.

When are men going to learn that slow and steady wins the race?

I don’t know a single woman, a single one, who is attracted to overt sexual advances. Anticipation is what gets our juices flowing, or in pig language—GETS US WET!

Here is a little helpful hint to men:

When you are trying to woo a woman, whether it be for a meaningful relationship or a hot & heavy sexual romance DO NOT...

…ask her if she is naked—it will only guarantee that you will never see her naked.

…ask her about her bra & panties—I personally only bring out the good stuff for the man who has earned it. Tidy Whities are not part of my wardrobe, as you all know, but the idiot who ask me about my undies may, if he is lucky, get to see my Victoria Secrets peeking over my jeans, but he will never undress me from my La Perla!

…ask her what her bra size is! It’s rude, and for the well endowed it is embarrassing and for less than endowed it is embarrassing. DON’T ASK! They are all perfect.

…ask her to send you pictures of herself. Very few women take boudoir pictures of themselves and most who do have NO business doing so. Also, don't ask her if she wants to see nude pictures of you. She doesn't.

Don’t be stupid… Don’t be lewd… Don’t be rude…

Be respectful… Be patient… Be a gentleman…

Remember slow and steady. Anticipation.

That is what all women want—every single one!

For Your amusement…

My Top 5 Worst Dates in May!

Date # 1 The Gay Guy—I went out on a date with this man who on the phone and in his pictures seemed very manly, but when I showed up, it turned out he was gay! Gay but does not know he was gay.

When dinner was served, he looked at me and said, “This looks simply scrumptious.” I cannot say that and not feel gay!

He then went on to tell me about how perfectly neat my toenails were done. He was impressed how the polish was nicely distributed on the nail bed. ???????? Girls don’t even notice that!

Date # 2 The Guy with No Teeth—I swear no teeth! Call me shallow, but I like teeth. They don’t have to be your own, just in your mouth. Preferably white.

I use to have these really high standards.

Good Looking
Have a Job
Be Patient
Be Fit
Good with Children
Emotionally Balanced.

Now it is just MUST HAVE TEETH—and is with good with children.

Okay, I only had two really bad dates, but they are big ones so they should count as five, and frighteningly May is not over yet.

Confession # 101

For me the simplest of gestures can be the most romantic.

Friday night I went on a date with my Bachelor—remember my Bachelor? It was nice. We had a wonderful dinner and way too much wine at his friend’s restaurant. We talked about our lives, our friends, our involvements, nothing too deep or too intimate. The evening went just as it was planned—a simple business transaction.

I paid for one Bachelor and I got one Bachelor.

There was to be no kissing, or well you know… A simple business transaction. That was all understood going in. So when it happened I was shocked.

What happened? The most romantic thing since the magic chocolate kiss that whirled up the romance that later became my marriage.

Our evening ended with the two of standing together on the Sausalito side of the Golden Gate Bridge looking over the City. We were standing there, side by side for quite awhile and all of sudden he took my hand.

That’s it! He took my hand. So simple. So easy. He just took my hand.

Now, I know nothing will come from my Bachelor date; it was after all a simple business transaction. But his taking my hand, reminded me of how that simple easy gesture can be so romantic because it says come with me, the journey begins here, hand in hand. All the rest we will figure out along the way. Take my hand… come with me…

I just smiled and looked him smiling me, and knew that if the rules were not spelled out going in, a kiss would have followed and well who knows…

Who knows?

Confession # 100

For this milestone in my confessions, I wanted to come up with something really great, but just could not come up with anything. And then last night I was given a gift—in more ways than one—this has to be one of the best confessions yet! So here it is: Confession #100

I had phone sex last night!

I have never had phone sex before, and it was amazing.

What started out as a simple get to know you call quickly evolved into one of those great 4-hour phone conversations where you spill your guts out to each other and it ended with two orgasms.

Really good orgasms!

I have a date with other guy tonight, but if I can figure a way out of it, I will be have live in person sex tonight with the voice in the night.

The voice in the night and a little voice inside of me says I will figure a way out.

You can bet on it!

To Be Continued…

AMENDMENT!!!!

THIS IS NO LONGER TO BE CONTINUED!
IN REAL LIFE MY PHONE SEX GUY WAS YET ANOTHER!
WRONG ANSWER! THANKS FOR PLAYING

THE END!

E—CALL ME AND I WILL FILL IN ALL THE HORRIBLE DETAILS!

Confession # 99

Last night I figured out what it is I am really looking for… BORING.

Yesterday was really busy. I had three different events I was scheduled to attend, and all three required that I show up as a completely different personality—The dedicated mom; The hip single chick who knows her stuff about wine, but who is also a supportive friend; finally the girlfriend who listens, understands, and can actually sit through an art film and see it as real life and not some strange movie that other friends just don’t get because it is so outside the scope of their perfectly manicured worlds.

Busy day… but I was home by 10:30. My house was empty and quiet. It was nice, except something or should I say someone was missing.

HE was missing. That fabulously boring guy who is just sitting on the couch watching SportsCenter. That fabulously boring guy who says, ‘Home already? How did it go?’ than makes room for me on the couch so I can cuddle up with him. That fabulously boring guy, who wants to hear all the details, but understands that I will not say a word.

That is who was missing. Mr. Saturday night—come settle in with me, boring guy.

Okay, I don’t want him to be boring all the time. And maybe boring isn’t even the right word. I just want that guy.

You all know what I am talking about! That guy… No games, no conflict. Just easy, comfortable, simple, nice. That guy…

Confession # 98

I am a sucker for the nice guy.

I met this man last weekend, he was kind of cute so I gave him my number, and he called me last night.

I could tell immediately that he was completely wrong for me.

I wasn’t thrilled about his voice. (Voices for me are huge)
He says, ANYWAYS! (My biggest pet peeve)
And he does not like wine. Hates it as a matter of fact. (…)

He clearly is not the guy for me.

But, I am really sick, and in my Nyquil induced state, I found myself engaged in conversation a lot longer that I normally would have been. He was nice enough. He told me about his job and his life and listen to me talk about mine, between the hacking and sneezing.

I figured once I was better, I would deal with the salutation, if the situation actually became a situation.

Then this morning the phone rang. I was in a deep sleep, more Nyquil, so I did not get it. The message machine picked it up and it was the guy.

He left sweetest message:

He wanted to check up on me because I was sick. He told me it was such nice day outside so I should sit in my backyard and let the sun heal me. He told me to sleep and drink liquids and not to worry about calling him back. He just wanted me to know that he was thinking about me.

How sweet is that!

He is all wrong for me, but I was truly touched. Maybe I should have coffee with him. No… The ANYWAYS will drive me crazy.

Confession # 97

I hate men today.

I am tired of juvenile behavior. I am tried of rude attempts at humor. I am tired of harassing comments. I am tired of insane jealousy. I am tired of male insecurity. I am tired of all these things, but the thing I am most tired of is when I call these men on this unacceptable behavior, I am label the problem. A Bitch.

Well I have said it before and I will say it again—Sometime being called a Bitch is a compliment.

To the man who told me I was an uptight Bitch because I asked him to stop sending me text message about the size of breast. I would just like to say, THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT!

To the man who cannot answer a simple question with a simple answer because he is trying to throw me off my frame, and then whispers “bitch” under his breath as I walk away to find a grown up. I would just like to say, THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT!

To the man who described me as a High Maintenance Rich Bitch, because I own my own home, buy myself nice things, and have money in the bank, and he lives in a one bedroom apartment with milk crates as bookshelves, and has no money saved and is the ripe old age of 42. I would just like to say, THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT!

To all of the BOYS who think they are MEN, THANK YOU FOR THE COMMPLIMENT!

Confession # 96

I have run away to Mendocino again, but this time with the love of my life. My daughter.

As I sit here this morning taking in the view, I cannot decide which is more beautiful, the ocean or my sleeping child. She is so amazing and so deserving, I make no apologies for being so picky about the men I bring into my life.

I have these little tests that I challenge all the men I date with. They are things that may only matter to me, but they tell me a lot. The results of the tests and not black or white, but I know when someone fails them, and thus fails me.

I know this all sounds like I am looking for faults, but I am not. I am just being very selective, and I have a right to be. I have a responsibility to be. My daughter will have relationships that mirror the ones she sees me in. The only one she really knows so far is the one I had with her father, and I do not want that for her.

She needs to see me with a man who values me, a man who respects me, a man who truly loves me; she needs to see me in a relationship where I can be me and not make any apologies for it. So if someone thinks my tests are stupid, manipulative, or that I am just being too picky. I invite you to watch my 7-year-old daughter sleep and dream.

Confession # 95

I believe the only way to survive the dating game is to
DATE LIKE A MAN!

At brunch yesterday I was telling my friends about my date Friday night. The reactions I got varied greatly between the men and the women.

My Girlfriends were practically picking out wedding gowns for me but my Guyfriends said, that is great, but keep your options open. Take it for what it was… One good date! And one good date does not a relationship make!

Since I am dating men and not women I am going to listen to the advice of my target audience.

That is right, I am going to approach this with a sound mind—meaning I am not going to put all my eggs in this basket. I am not going to start doodling his name on napkins at Starbucks or planning romantic summer getaways. I am not going to get swept away in romance because I had one good date.

Yes I would like to see this man again, but who knows if I actually will. We both said we would call, but I have not picked up a phone and he has not rung mine. It was left as a to be continued... but in reality it was what it was, one good date.

It means there will be other good dates, there will be a whole lot of other bad dates, but there will be other good ones. That is all I really need to know and believe, now that my one good date changed my mind about coupling.

Confession # 94

I don’t scare easily… But tonight I met a man who scared me to death.

I have never met anyone I was so comfortable and uncomfortable with all at the same time.

He walked into the wine bar and it was magic.

There was not the normal awkwardness of a first meeting, or nervous tension of a first date. It was natural, like we have been together for years and we were just meeting for our normal Friday night out.

When he touched me I did not flinch because he broke, without permission, those three feet of personal space I value so much. No, when he put his arm around me I melted into him.

When he kissed me it was perfect. I quivered. I can still feel his kisses on my lips—soft as butterflies, and sweet as peppermint.

I really like this man! I really, really like this man.

I have always said, I was perfectly happy to be single, that I have no real desire to really couple again. Well, unless someone comes along to change my mind.

I think he is that someone.