Let's Get Comfortable

It's officially summertime! Swimwear and "clothing left to your imagination" will proudly be worn up and down our lovely New Jersey coastline. This is the time of year where people are out looking for a good time and maybe even a possible summer romance. It's really all about the fun factor. Hey, we're New Jerseyans. We know how to "live it up". 

A few weekends ago, as I was enjoying my summer cocktail at a friends bar-ba-que get together she explained to me a dating story that her friend of a friend had experienced. Isn't it always a friend of a friend? Regardless, I was compelled to listen. And excited that this nightmare she was about to tell me was not of my own experiences. 

Let's call this friend of a friend Melanie. I am actually not even sure of the name of the person that it happened to but it sounds like a sweet enough name to use for a girl who got romantically shafted. Here is her story. 

Melanie was like most girls this day in age. Independent, hard-working and looking for a nice guy that would stand by her side. She did what allot of busy people ( including myself) have done to look for love: go to an online dating source. After being on the site for a few months she found a very handsome guy who seemed too good to be true. According to him, had a very successful business.  She perused through his online photographs where one was of him in his living room, another was him leaning next to his car and the last one was of him outside a large brick building, no lettering, where he stated he " worked".  They went on a few dates and she was smitten. How could such a well rounded wonderful guy still be out there on the market? She felt so lucky to have come across and snag this hidden treasure. Until things took an odd turn. Every time Melanie would even mention where he lived he would be very brief and then change the subject. This dueled for his job as well. She noticed mentioning both of these topics would make him a little uncomfortable, so he would turn the conversation back to her. After a few more dates and with none of her questions answered, she started to become so agitated she decided to give herself a break from him for a few days by going out with some of her own friends.  While out with her posse she received a bit of unwelcoming news about her " successful man". Turns out, one of her guy friends recognized that name from when he was in college while she was telling him her latest dating saga. It was a " buddy of a buddy" at his dorm that his friend still keeps in touch with. One night, when all the guys were going out this guy came out too and shared all of his " dating secrets".  Let me establish his dating stats first;  he is a waiter at a popular chain restaurant and lives in the basement of his uncle's house, who is a lawyer. His " successful business " was a lie and as for his car that he was posing against in his profile photo was his uncle's luxury vehicle, which he also borrowed for their dates when he picked her up. The kicker of it all? You would have thought the photo of him in his living room was in his uncle's house. Not really. This guy had his friends take photos of him in an Ikea "living room" and would post them as " his place" on the website.  Technically, as long as he sat on the ever so popular Swedish furniture company's couch it was his own. But let's keep this real, never have I heard of something so ridiculous ( and funny! ) as this. Who would lie about such a thing ? Apparently this guy. 

Now, I have been to Ikea many times and enjoy all the already comfortable furnished living areas. And admit, that if I am there with a friend, I give them a pen from my purse to pretend it's a skinny microphone so they can be Bob Barker in the Price is Right and I could think I am one of the hot girls showing off what you could win at the Showcase Showdown. No joke. I do it.

 As for Melanie, she called him up that night when she got home, told him off and never saw him again. I am hoping Melanie could find a little summer fling to rebound from Mr. Ikea. 

Sweet Little Lines

 I had the best " line" told to me from a client while at work last week.

 Let me explain this gentleman to you. He is a very funny, elderly man that when he found out my age told me he could never date me because I was too old for him. Did I mention that he is married and roughly around 110 years old? Okay, I am pushing it. He is more like 100. Anyhow, every time he arrives at the salon ( he is not always my client but sometimes I get lucky and inherit him for an appointment ) he makes his way towards me to tell an abundance of jokes. And he is quite the dirty bird. What about his wife? She is a client of the salon as well and is a sweet, sweet woman. I even had to reassure her once that I was not interested in her husband and despite his " comes on's  " him and I would never be an item.  She smiled at me and look disappointed that I wouldn't be taking him off her hands. ( For the record, she does love him.) 

 He is a harmless man and in such a " PC" world we live in I think we need more people like him : light-hearted, funny and not too series. And as much as I tell him that he is a buster I truly do not mind. 

As I  began washing this older fella's hair , who also once resembled Leonardo Dicaprio in his younger years, he looked up to me and said " Kiwi, I wish I could have been a woman, so that way I could have met me." I couldn't help but to laugh and just say " First off, let me say that your the only person I allow to call me Kiwi and secondly, your right." 

 You have to love someone who can just put it out all there. 

 I will be sad one day when he turns 200 and starts forgetting those punch lines.  

He's Wearing.......

  Last week one of my clients bestowed me with the greatest gift:  a fresh dating story. It was not her personal experience but one that her sister had encountered. I graciously listened to all of the details as I combed her silky black hair,  precisely cut it and  watched the hair fall to the ground.

 My client's sister, a prestigious woman who has worked hard and became a doctor was looking for a man that was up to her caliber. Turns out the man that she had met online, a college professor, was looking for the same trait in a life long female companion. He wanted someone who could hold a high-leveled conversation and stand along him proudly and equally at any events for his work that he needed to attend. 

 According to my client, they went out few times and had a wonderful time. It's so nice when two people can find their exact match. The ying to their yang. I have never truly experienced it myself so I am going to compare it to the feeling I have when my socks come out of the dryer and I find the match rather quickly. Very exciting. 

 A few dates in, they were out one evening and  during their conversation he felt comfortable enough to tell her about a medical condition that he currently has. Oh, I have been down that road before except I didn't even have to take the time to go out with the guy because he decided to share with me all about his " leaky cyst " over the phone before we even had met. But this was different, nothing was oozing from his body. He had a condition called Hyperhidrosis. It's a condition where someone will sweat profusely because the body will have a hard time cooling down itself . And yes, I found out the proper terminology from Wikipedia. How am I suppose to know and remember all this? 

 The new details my client's sister received was not alarming until he decided to share another piece of information that he should of clearly left out. To control his sweating issue better known as " hyperhidrosis" he explains to her that   he wears his mother's pantyhose. Now this was a deal breaker for her but I feel like their were much larger things to address here. For instance, why didn't he just buy his own pantyhose? Doesn't nylon increase the sweating ? Why did he chose his mother's hosiery ? Did he wash the pantyhose before he borrowed them from her ?  Did he wax or shave before he put them on? And is he using the proper shade for his skin tone? Many, many questions for him popped into my head but my clients sister didn't stick around to ask. Curiosity would have made me stay around at least another ten minutes to have the survey of them answered. Just for the hell of it, he must have known a little about woman's undergarments,  so I would have also asked him if he knew what really happens the minute after an eighteen hour bra has been worn for too long.  Would it suddenly combust leaving your nips to dust the floor? 

 Needless to say she was out. She felt she could not date a man who wore his mother's pantyhose. She needs a man to wear pants in her world. 

 I would have to agree. Just thinking about a potential boyfriend of mine wearing that constrictive nylon would make my skin itchy. 

What Sign?

 It was good to be back at work and doing what I love best: talking to clients and making them look good. After the third week off post surgery I was beginning to go a bit insane. Luckily, the weather had been a bit warmer in the northeast showing New Jerseyans that sometimes you can bypass the whole snowy season and shoot straight for 80 degree temps right in the beginning of March. I took advantage of the time off and the pleasant weather by taking my book reading outdoors. My walking was quite limited temporally so going somewhere to experience the freshness of the air and the brightness of the sun was kept local. And what better place to that than the downtown, Perth Amboy waterfront. 

 After a pleasant hour reading by the water I decided it was time to head on home. I had traveled this area many, many times but realized I had taken a turn down a street I was not familiar with. Regardless, I then saw the main street I needed to make a left hand turn on and did just that. Suddenly a handsome spanish cop on foot began to wave to me. I did what anyone else would do and waved back. Not amused by my friendly returned hand gesture he motioned for me to pull over. I suddenly realized I hadn't washed my hair that day and was in need of a quick lip gloss refresher on my lips.  I had just enough time to check myself in the mirror for teeth food particles when he came on over to my window. I suddenly felt like I was an episode of " Chips " and he was my officer Poncherello. " What seems to be the problem officer " I replied in my most seductive voice. Looking back, I should never use that voice again. Ever. "License, registration and insurance card please" he said to me. I was lost. I thought he was picking me up. I was clueless and realized I would not be going to the roller disco later that evening. Baffled at to what I did wrong I glanced into my rear-view mirror to see officer Sexy Goya-oh-Boya running my information. I then saw him coming back to approach my car. " Miss, you made an illegal left hand turn onto this street. Their was a sign back there saying it was forbidden. I had to write you up a ticket but I gave you one that will hold no points to be nice. If you would like to protest it you may. " These were my options I thought to myself ?" I also wanted to say " If you were nice you would have not even given me a ticket at all " but opted for a simple " thanks " instead.  He walked away and ruined my chances of ever having a seductive cop fantasy again. 

 I pulled away and went around the block to see the " sign " the cop was talking about. As I was approaching the stoplight and carefully making sure I didn't make the same left-turn mistake, I saw the sign. Actually, the SIGNS. Plural. Their were four of them. " Huh, I said to myself. Wouldn't ya know."

 Driving home I realized a few things; I waved to cop that was not flirting, I now have a ticket to pay and how could I have missed all those signs? 

 Needless to say I am glad to be back in the workforce.

Lovin' At Any Age

I have learned a few things this past week. Knee surgery is a bitch. First, when in physical therapy make sure you always wear the good sweatpants without the hole in the crotch. It's not a good look to be getting your stretch on and have your beaver peak out.  Second, rehab in the daytime a sexy spot for sagging singles. If you're over 75 and single, this is the place to be. Now I'm not putting down "old lovin'". That generation must  know what to do. I mean, they have had long lasting marriages that usually only ended because " death did them part". Plus, there is something sweet about two sets of dentures clacking together resulting in a minty Polident smooch. 

 I recently had a client of mine pass away. Her and her husband were married over fifty years. She was my standing appointment  and every saturday for over four years we would meet at noon. It was the longest relationship I have had in quite sometime.  She would ask me how my week was, tell me how dangerous NYC was to go to alone ( she knew that I adore manhattan) and what her husband was making for dinner. Between them six lives were created and she made it a point to say that marriage and kids is not always " easy and breezy ". But her honesty displayed always resulted in love, patience,  trust and strength that she and her husband had for each other.  With those key ingredients,  " you would be able to work through anything "  she would tell me. That is some recipe this day in age. Every saturday at noon is not the same without her, but may her and her wisdom rest in peace. 

Now let's play the modern day geriatric dating game. My nana, who lives in a retirement village down in south jersey tells me tales of dating in her area. It's the same as any other age bracket , if not worse. The ratio of woman to men is off, resulting in a higher count of females to every male.  Baked goods are a lure woman will use to acquire a male love interest and if he decides to stray towards another female a smack faster than a major league baseball pitcher will be administered to all guilty parties. It's like the show Dynasty but without the shoulder pads and the smell of moth ball clothing instead.  There're is also a lake that these seniors like to relax near during the warmer months. And should I even share with you, that the men like to wear speedos to this leisurely body of water ? Well , I just did so try to shake that mental image out of your head. And in the words of my nana, " things are dangling and swingin". 

 With all this dating information my head is going to explode. Dating is not an easy task , regardless of age.  The most important thing I have learned while listening to the above stories is that micro-mini swimwear will leave little to the imagination and the mental image of two walnuts cascading on the floor keep coming to mind. Alright, alright. I also learned that love, patience, trust and strength are needed to have a long lasting commitment.

 Tommorrow is another day and for now, I must go. 

 I have to check my sweatpants for any holes. 

Excerpt from my book, chapter 6, Mr. Racist

It has been a few weeks since I have blogged.  And so, I am back. I have decided to entertain you with an excerpt from chapter six of my book titled " Mr. Racist." 

The first paragraph sets up the situation of how my girlfriend Tanya and I decided to go speed dating. The few after that explains what I had experienced and heard from my 10-three minute dates. Enjoy!

  Online dating had not worked; neither had being set up. I needed another method to end my singleness, so my friend    Tanya and I decided to go speed dating. I figured this could be a safer way to approach dating and if I didn't like any of the eligible bachelors ( or vice versa ) , I could always chalk it up to fun night out with a girlfriend. 

   Tanya and I chose seats right next to each other, with me first in line to experience any possible weirdos. " Hey, I'll warn you of what's coming your way," I told her. 

    She looked at me and laughed.  " Thanks." 

    

    We heard the opening chime of the spoon to the glass, and the parade of bachelors began. My mini-dates went as follows:

    Bachelor #1: " I think I am drunk."

    Bachelor #2: " I am not a social person and really hate talking."

    Bachelor #3: " The girl next to us, the one I'm going to meet next , is that you friend? I think she may be more my type than you are."

    Bachelor #4: " I have to pee." 

    Bachelor#5: " Your a hairdresser? What would you do with my hair? "

    Bachelor#6: " I'm a bit older than this age bracket, but I fibbed the age detail because I like younger woman. Actually, my daughter is your age and I recently became a grandfather for the first time!"

    Bachelor#7:  " If your a hairdresser, can you tell I am wearing a toupee?"

    Bachelor#8:  " I work at a car dealership, just bought my own condo and love traveling. Stop! ,  I said in my head, I think we have a winner!  But for the sake of the last two guys and the fee I paid, I decided to hang in through the next 

    six minutes. 

    Bachelor#9: " I'm friends with the guy that thought your friend was more his type. If she isn't interested in him, do you think you could tell her I am interested i her as well?" 

   Bachelor#10:  Actually, I have no idea what my tenth date said. He didn't speak much english. And just like a thunder an lightening storm, my quick and easy dating night blew in and out, even quicker.

   " Tanya , I am exhausted and not in the mood to mingle anymore. Can we leave?"

    It turned out she was done too, and jerked her head towards the door. 

   " How many did you check off?" I asked.

   " Three. Bachelors three, seven and nine. How about you? "

   " Just one, number eight. And by the way, you might have a little love triangle with numbers three and nine." I explained the situation to her. 

  " Thanks for the heads up , " she said , "Let's get out of here." 

 And for my blog readers, I did go out with Bachelor #8 which is how he acquired his name of Mr. Racist.

Five minutes in a cab

My latest trip to New York City proved to be a great success.  I had my second book signing and the chance to meet and chat with many wonderful people.  Usually when transporting myself all over the city taking the subway or simply walking is the way to go for me. Between the bitter cold and a on going knee ailment I chose to take a different route;  NYC cabs. This is not the first time I have taken a cab, but this was sure a different experience. 

I was staying in midtown and I needed to get to Union Square.  I took myself to an avenue facing towards downtown, thinking I would have a better chance. I did what everyone does to catch a cab, I lifted up my skirt inappropriately above my knee (the uninjured one) and hoped for the best. Just kidding, no one really does that.  Plus, I only do that in New Jersey.  So, I shimmied myself to a street corner and lifted my hand upwards. As I stood their watching cabs pass filled with patrons, I decided I had put my time into this corner so I am staying right here.  I mean, I  put two whole minutes into this commitment of waiting. Just then, a tall,  lean and stunning blond walks right next to me, to do the same thing: hail down a cab. The nerve of her I thought.  Like every good prostitute she should know this is my corner, I was here first.  Oh it's on, I thought to myself. I am definitely not going to lose this battle. Just then, a yellow cab pulls up, the driver rolls down the window and says "hey you, get in."  I looked next to me at blondie and then behind me realizing this " hey you" was meant for me.  I gave her a look that defined the phrase "see ya sucker " all over my face as she shook her head at me. This is exactly how Cinderella must have felt when the horse and carriage pulled up for the ball. 

As I headed inside to see my prince, the other side of the cab door had shut.  "I thought that guy would have never left."  the cabbie says.  "Union Square is where I'm headed, thank you."  I replied. And this is where my five minute cab ride turned into an episode of the dating game. 

As I took in all the smells the cab had to offer like Pine Sol, body odor and Twizzlers ( cherry flavored) I was asked a few questions." I saw you from across the road. I pick you up. You have boyfriend "  the nice cabbie asks me. Then he proceeds to explain, all the while gumming to death chicken nugget poppers with the four teeth he had that he is currently single, from Calcutta and that we would make "vetty nice couple". He proposed that if I like spicy food he would take me out to dinner. Midway to my destination, he adjusts the review mirror so all he can see every single horrific facial expression. After it is clear to him that we will never be a twosome we arrive at my destination as he asks me once more if I have made my choice on spicy food and a commitment with himself. 

Now I only require a few things and currently he is two out of three. He has a car and a job but no teeth, so I must decline. 

I am sure Mr. Calcutta will find the woman of his dreams. Someone who will share his love of spicy food and maybe she will have eight more teeth to complete a full set between them. As for me , I am still looking for my love. 

 As I paid the cabbie and closed the door I watched him drive away all the while thinking if the song "You'll never find another love like mine" by Lou Rawls was playing in his mind while mentally referring to my decision and then  departure. 

And then right then and there I had a craving for cherry flavored licorice. Hmmm, wonder why.