There's a New Post! We Should Celebrate With Champagne in Bed!

First of all, I apologize for my absence.  I can explain it all right here:  totally new business opportunity I was going to be a part of went bust; needed to return to Los Angeles for work and was terribly sad about that; came back to LA, was terribly sad, ate a lot of Cheetos; started dating someone cute (sexy, hot! gives me girl boners!) and things started to look up; a new work opportunity came about and I sort of got the "life's kick in the pants" sign to just... GET GOING AGAIN.

Does that sound too vague?

The fact is, when I'm feeling overwhelmed or unsure or even a little down, I will tend to disappear.  And I did, didn't I?  A friend of mine told me she recommended this blog to someone as a giant pick-me-up but her friend told her, "Um, her blog is kind of depressing."  LOL!  I guess the last 2 entries have been.

I'm not good at faking happy when I'm not.  Which actually, you guys have been cool about.  Mel, a frequent reader often tells me to be "more real, more raw" -- that I should talk about the down times.  Life is hard for all of us.  Especially now in this place in history.

But when I'm feeling down, I feel like a failure... I can't explain why.  Maybe for not making the most of what I have.  Maybe for not being a trooper and just getting on with life.  You know, my whole life, I've watched my Mom just pretend to be happy even when she wasn't.  With a swish of a good lipstick and a smile she could turn a down day and a dark stormy cloud (in front of us) into, like, Miss America for everyone else.

Not that I blame her.  I don't.  I am responsible for me.  So... I was in a funk.  And it was feeling like a G-d damn deep one.  Job 1 was to get out of it.  I started on some meds which I know lots of people have different feelings about but WOW, I saw a difference in 2 weeks - from despair to... I don't even know how to describe it.  Just "goodness."

That made me get out of sweatpants and comb my darn hair.  Then more socializing, then off to the gym, then out on dates, then hoping on more creative endeavors, then breaking out the Adventure Bowl (which will be my next post).

I don't know how long I'll stay on these meds.  It's just helping me ride out this wave of... I don't even know what... bumpiness of life?  Yeah, I guess that's it.  I feel more happy, connected to myself and productive.  So I'll stick with it for another month or two.  To be honest, I really haven't felt this down since my cousin was killed but I did have the where-with-all to know "this is just chemical," I knew it was truly something meds could help with.  

I hope that brings you up to speed.  About that luscious boy I was speaking about?  Well, he's really sweet, really foxy and I like him.  Some red flags are jumping up in terms of anything long term but I am trying to tell myself to just SHUT UP and enjoy it.  It's just been a few dates, no need to get into my head right now and ruin it.

Does that answer everything?  You can ask me anything in the comments and I will answer!  I was floored and so happy to receive so many comments on the last post along with emails of support.  You guys and gals are the best!  :)  xoxoxo K

If you leave a comment, make sure to check back in!  I will be replying to all of them.  Thank you ;)

*****

There's a New Post! We Should Celebrate With Champagne in Bed!

Today, I Shop Lifted A Banana So I Have Clearly Lost My Mind

I'm here.  I'm back.  I'm in Los Angeles.  My everything is every where.  

I arrived home last night, ragged, after Ruby, my pug... well, peed all over herself in her dog bag on the plane, and me, feeling like a rotten mother for having stuffed her in said dog bag, which is a wholly unnatural state, pulled her soaking wet self out and let her sit on my lap.

For two hours.

So I came home, 11pm, reeking of urine but feeling actually, quite victorious as, again, having dog mother guilt and not wanting to make my other dog fly in cargo, I snuck him on the plane.  And got away with it.  Like a lunatic.  

I mean, I had my sister drive me an hour and a half to the airport so I could fly direct but I still had no idea if I was ever, ever going to get away with sneaking my little 11 pound fluff ball on the plane.

Only I did.  It's a really long story why it came down to that - a huge terrible mix up that the only way little fluff ball was going to fly is if I stuck him in a cage and he connected through 2 hubs over a period of 12 hours.  Sorry, not going to happen.  I was willing to risk getting caught and be booted off the plane for this.

I was prepared with lies.

Why would I not put my 2nd carry-on bag in the overhead bin?  I couldn't say, "Because it contains a second dog."  I'd get booted.  Off the plane.  So I figured I say...

"It contains my mother's ashes.  I need them... on my lap."

OMG.  I am ready for someone to do some deep psychoanalysis on that.  

I didn't care.  It was my sweet innocent dog and I felt bad enough for dragging him on a 6 hour flight - I wasn't about to put him on a 12 hour one.  

But it worked out.  He's fine, I'm fine, the pug is fine.  The urine soaked pants, they will be fine.

My everything is every where.

Seriously, boxes, in my apartment, every where.  Some of the girl, who sublet here, her stuff, every where.  Weird things are missing, things that are needed can't be found, (towels?  pots? pans?  where are the cereal bowls? ugh.)

Whatever.  She left a half a box of tampons and since my car won't start because it hasn't been drive in 9 months, I find myself eternally grateful to her even if she did hijack my favorite Isaac Mizrahi for Target cereal bowls.  (She did leave a bag of marshmallows, which ya know, with the period and all, was kind of nice.)

I need to laugh or I will cry.  The thing is, I don't know where I belong.  And I hate that.  I want answers!  I know they are within me or is that just blah blah bad movie writing.  What if they aren't in me?  What if I just don't know?  I know what I want for a career but I do question if it comes at a price of not being happy where I live.

My sister said to me, "Leap and the net will come."  Will it?  And where am I leaping?  I don't even know.

I know some decisions have to be made.  But I knew today was not the day to make them.  My body is on another time zone.  We were all up at 5:00am feeling hung over tired and exhausted.

I stole a banana from the 7-11 because I was frustrated that the line was moving too slow so obviously, I should not be making really important decisions today.

I STOLE A BANANA.

I mean, I'm ready to go to jail for shop lifting a $.69 cent banana  so obviously I have hit my lunatic wall and need to clam down and reassess some things before any big decisions are made.

So I stared at the ceiling fan for a long ass time today.  My eyes started to well-up and I thought, "I feel as lost as after David died."  It wasn't even David dying.  Not that alone.  It was losing my job and my boyfriend and my Mom getting sick and having to go back home, all in such a short amount of time.

I felt lost. 

I feel lost.

I'm armed with the tools now, though.  I can journal and I can f'ing go to therapy and I can even get on some good drugs, I can do my adventures but the fact is -- and I'm just going to be honest -- and I am willing to look like a total bitch or even worse, a big fat baby -- but the fact is --

I DON'T WANT TO.

I don't want to.

I don't want to work hard on myself or figure things out or talk to anybody about this or delve into things or feel things or anything.

And that's what freaks me out.  Because I do know NOTHING will change if I do nothing.

F-word.  (I say F-word to be considerate of those who might not want me to use the F-word, just know, I am feeling the F-word in its entirety and not just its abbreviated polite spelling).

Fuck.

Anyway.  That is all I have for you.  OH, THERE WILL BE MORE.  If you're new and it seems like there are so many more of you, who are, it'll be like starting over with me at the beginning.

F-word.  

Here we go again... I guess...

(PS, I set up the alerts so I will be emailed if you comment.  Please know, I always, always read your comments and now with the alerts, I'll be able to respond faster.  Thank you so much.  They always do mean the world to me.)

Today, I Shop Lifted A Banana So I Have Clearly Lost My Mind

I Am A Jack Ass

I see people reading here... they do it a lot.  And for a long time.  You know who you are, you who do not comment.  You, young lady or old lady or middle aged lady or you may not even be a lady at all and certainly, I am no lady for ever inferring you might be an old lady or no lady at all... what is wrong with me?

I am a Jack Ass.

I see you, one of you even read for 55 minutes on your Blackberry yesterday.  That's love. I think. I'm Catholic, so I am not sure about these things.  But I feel it must be love or maybe love.  Either way, I'll take it.

I mean, on a BLACKBERRY! That is a very small screen.  It must be love.

But you did not comment. Neither did the person who read for 23 minutes, 17 minutes, 47 minutes... certainly the person who had Googled "100 positions in bed" - well, I did not expect them to comment.   

But the rest of you, with the no commenting... it must be... because I am a Jack Ass.

Because I have not been writing regularly and therefore, I have squandered your love.  Is that it?  In the past, there have been many times I see tons and tons of people reading and they will not comment.  I often feel it's because a lot of the subject matter has been super personal and maybe it's hard to know what to say.

So I'm dropping in today to say, I love you guys, I love our community.  You can tell from my last post that my life is in a flux.  In the quietest places of my mind and heart, I know I need to write more.  I know I need to re-commit to the Adventures that so throughly saved me and nourished me and gave me hope and strength and pushed me on. 

I know I need you (to not think I'm a Jack Ass.) No... scratch that last part.  

I just need you.

So I wanted to say hi and I wanted to say to those of you reading, peeping, lurking, liking - to say hi back to me.  You don't even have to use your own name.  I would love to know what you like about what you've read or don't like... I'd even like you to tell me what to write in my next post.

It's my Thank You to you... you who keep reading here, the story of a girl trying to figure it all out in this mother-loving f'ing confusing crazy complex world... a girl who is trying desperately not to be a Jack Ass, to not let people down... ;) 

So... here I am. And Thank You. And I would love to know what is on your mind... 

****

I Am A Jack Ass

I Guess We All Get Sad

I wrote this late last night... I was feeling particularly vulnerable, freaked out and sad.  It takes everything for me to not pull it down today.  My older posts were so much more honest and raw but I seemed to get away from that.  Perhaps I thought that if I "started my life over" then posts should only be happy - if they weren't then it equalled failure in some way.  Maybe I thought I would turn people off or maybe I just did not want to tap into or admit feeling scared.  So here it is... I would love to hear your thoughts... even if you want to tell me to grow a pair and my problems aren't a big deal.

Nothing is going well today.  Or yesterday or even the day before that.

Just in the last hour I have:

1)  Dumped a whole thing of Body Wash on my head thinking it was shampoo

2)  Been yelled at by my mom for not having the hair catcher thing-y on the drain because "you know you shed like a dog in that shower!"

3)  Also yelled at for using the good towels, the ones with beads, that are there FOR DECORATION and not for ACTUAL DRYING.  Who has towels with beads on them?  Really?  And do you think they were my first choice to use?  No, they just seemed like the ONLY choice, what with them HANGING RIGHT OUTSIDE THE SHOWER.

4)  My pug licked my only clean pair of underwear so throughly that it is wet in all the spots that I would never want near my body

These are not so terrible things.  Maybe they are even funny things.  I need to say the funny things because if I don't laugh, I will cry.  Oh, look, I am crying.

Life is not going the way that it should and to be honest, I see no end in sight in that matter.  I have to go back to LA for work and I do not want to.  I do not want to.  I don't like LA.  I think I may even hate it.  To the point that I wonder if perhaps, I did not get yelled at for leaving my hair in my Mom's new shower and using the towels we are only supposed to look at, I might just want to move into their basement and get a job as a greeter where ever one might get a job greeting people.

I would be good at that.  Greeting people.  Except for all the crying.

What's funny or not that funny or interesting or maybe not even interesting at all, is I came home to my parents' house because I was so overwhelmed with packing up NYC that I needed to get a break but here I am, alone in their basement... bawling my eyes out and wondering... what next?

How did I take for granted how easy life used to be when I loved where I lived and I loved my job?  Now I don't have either of those things.   If I told you the truth about my dating life it would be that I was afraid that if I really committed to it, that I would find out dating was as horrible as I imagined it would be.  In NYC, I found out that was kind of true.

I think I felt unselfconscious in my commitment to throw myself all the way in to dating in NYC.  There's just something about being in a new city that makes you feel that way.  But Wednesday night... ugh, that was it.  When I just said, ENOUGH.

I swear, when he walked into the bar, he looked like he was ten years younger than  me.  But he showed me ID and it said he wasn't.  He smelled vintage-y - like that mixture of someone who maybe doesn't shower enough because they care about Mother Earth mixed in with a guy who shops at thrift stores.  But I told myself, "Stop it."  Stop being a baby, stop counting people out so soon, just stop.

And that's when I had to hear about the girlfriend he just could not get over.  They broke up in 2006.  

Sigh.

I tried, you guys.  I even gently hinted that talking about the girlfriend was a grade A downer.  Okay, I didn't gently hint.  I said it, right out loud, "This is a grade A downer. " And it seems he got it.  I even had, what I thought was a brilliant idea, to salvage the date --

We run to the bar across the street and start all over again.  Drinks on me.  Aren't I such a pal?  Yeah, it was there that he talked about how he had stayed with that ex-girlfriend through her parents divorce,  her brother's death and even EVEN after they had broken up, he was there for her when she needed last minute surgery.  Because she is afraid of hospitals.  I think it was when he said he "needed closure," after she ended their 4 year relationship via email, that I felt not only my clitorous shrinking and drying up like an old raisin but really, losing the will to live, all together. 

These are funny stories.  Then why can I not stop crying?

Life is hard.  And heart breaking.  I know that.  I just thought, literally a year ago, when I found out my cousin had brain cancer and in that moment, I just knew, KNEW, I did not want to live in LA another minute or work in the entertainment business another minute -  I thought it was all suppose to get better from there.

Isn't that what happens in the movies?  Big revelation!  Life changing!  And she's off to NYC with everything packed in one suitcase!  Like some sort of Carrie Bradshaw with love handles and a front butt.

But it hasn't been good.  I mean, it's been semi-good.  It's been good enough that I do not want to leave.  That is for sure.  And that's why I feel like this huge sadness in going.  My life feels out of my control.  I have to go where the work is, to be able to pay for things and take care of myself and if you want to know the truth I RESENT THE HELL OUT OF IT.

Ugh!  I'm not going to lie.  I wish I had someone with me to go through this with.  And when I go on these dates, I swear, they make me feel so hopeless that I ever will.   And I think that's what's really making me sad... because life has never been easy and I still have the will to move and fortitude to change and reinvent myself and get another job and figure it all out...

But the other stuff -- it just seems so far beyond my control.  

Yes, I felt overwhelmed packing up NYC and there was some work stuff that made me so stressed out, I couldn't even sleep but really, that date the other night really did me in.  Not just him... just what it symbolized.   Just how much more of that I can take.  And yet, I have to, don't I?  If I want the reward of what a relationship is supposed to bring.

Part of me feels like I am cramming for a test the night before the SATs.  So not worried was I, in my twenties about dating and guys and relationships and did I think they just fell from the sky and into the laps of my girlfriends -- that I just did, well, nothing.  Maybe that's why I'm so exhausted.  The cramming.  Three bad dates in a week for weeks on end will do that.

So this is my life.  It's not really pretty.  But it does feel good being honest.

(P.S. I just read my post from a month ago and yes, I do see the irony in me declaring that despite all these horrible dates, I am not discouraged by them.  That did make me laugh.)

***

I Guess We All Get Sad

Adventure Bowl Guide for New Readers * How it Began & How it Works

Dear BlogHer readers - I have marked below in PURPLE where the blog picks up from where you read it on BlogHer.

A friend recently sent me a link to BlogHer and asked me why I don't write some blog posts there.  I thought it was a sweet suggestion.  She felt that many, many women have moments of their life where they go through depression and maybe they might find my experience of overcoming it (though I am always aware it might come back), helpful.

I wasn't sure which one of my blog posts to post on BlogHer - maybe I thought if I started at the beginning, the cause of my depression - which started on the day I found out my cousin was murdered.  It was then compounded because within a matter of months I lost my job as a comedy writer, ended my relationship with my boyfriend and my Mom went through such a long illness (er, um... nervous breakdown after my cousin's trial) that readers might think my life was... hmmm, what's the expression...

"A colossal bummer."

So I started my first blog on BlogHer with an Adventure Bowl story that glossed over my depression and went right to the fun part (I'm such a good Catholic like that).  I talked of how I finally decided that laying in bed, day after day, was just not working for me.  I didn't mention that at the time, I was rounding the 2 year anniversary of my cousin's death and thought it would be a really crappy way to honor his memory by being stuck in bed, the covers pulled over me, a bag of Doritos for lunch... you know, just like yesterday, the day before that and all the days before that.

So I decided I would take action.  Everyone had been telling me to read, "Eat Pray Love" and I did.  It INFURIATED me.  How was THAT book supposed to help ME?  I could barely shower myself or make even a bowl of cereal for myself - how was I going to travel three countries for a year.  Um... and with what money???

But I did respect the author's desire to take action.  Okay, I could "take action," too.  I did want out of this depression and I wanted out BADLY.  I had already lost so much.  "Okay, take action... I'll do it."

BlogHer readers - The Post picks up here!

I would put, in a bowl, which I named the Adventure Bowl, all the fun things I wanted to do.  It started with 20 suggestions and I could ad as many as I wanted, whenever I wanted.  The only rule, pick one a week - and no backing down, no excuses.  At first, I started off small - get a pedicure.  Go for a picnic in the park, eat a cupcake like I'm a little kid again (pure joy!), go to a fancy hotel and walk the grounds.

Basically, I was going to "Eat Pray Love" within a ten mile radius of my house and for under ten dollars.

I started to find the old me on these little adventures.  Find my smile.  Feel... happy.  I started to get more daring in what I would ad to the bowl - go paddle boarding, save up and go for a massage, test drive a Porsche, crash a fancy hotel pool.

It was these more daring adventures that boosted my confidence and helped me conquer fears.  When you start doing that, it carries over into other aspects of your life:  soon after (many months) I lost twenty pounds, I landed a dream job (I became persistent because I was ready to go after what I wanted - another great aspect of these adventures).  Additionally, I was becoming more social and I found myself standing up for myself more.

I still do the Adventure Bowl each week.  My favorite one so far?  Going jet skiing with one of my best friends and my sister.  I conquered a few fears - the ocean and the idea of losing control.  My sister swore I would be too scared to go fast on the jet ski but it was she who was begging for mercy when I was ripping through the water, and she who was clinging for her life to me :)

I was shocked by how many women on BlogHer read the post.  I know that going through a depression, for me, a situational depression, and working hard to overcome it, would resonate with a lot of women - I get so many amazing comments here and in the blog's email.

But when I saw today, that over 800 women has read that post, I was shocked.  But thrilled, too.  And many of those readers have come here - many reading this blog for over 2 hours at a time.

I just want to say thank you.  It really means a lot to me.  I like the thought that maybe it makes someone reading this blog, going through a hard time - feel less alone.  A single mom wrote me, she just wanted to get under the covers.  She's scared if she does, she may never come out.  I know what that feels like.  

While she enjoyed reading my story and thought the Adventure Bowl sounded awesome, she felt like I did when I read "Eat Pray Love" - who has the time or money for this?  

That's why I wrote today's post.  To clarify how I started off doing "adventures" that no other person, except one going through a depression, would consider an adventure.  If you are not getting out of bed because you are depressed, going for a pedicure, going to lay under a tree with a good book IS AN ADVENTURE.

Start off slow.  The only goal in the beginning is to get out of the house.  To put a smile on your face.  To remember the old you.  And to work slowly and gently to getting back to her.

I also explained that giving yourself these little adventures would give back to her family 100 fold.  Never feel guilty about taking time for yourself when ultimately, a happier more joyful you, makes your family happier, too.

I hope many of you will try an Adventure Bowl for your self.  I'd love to hear about what Adventures you would add to your bowl.  Also, if you have any questions, please let me know.  I would LOVE to answer them.  Thanks for stopping by :)

**

Adventure Bowl
Guide for New Readers * How it Began & How it Works

Welcome All New BlogHer Readers :)

I am so happy you've found me!  Feel free to subscribe if you want to know when a new blog post is up.  And I would LOVE for you to click on our Facebook badge and join our merry group of Adventurers!

So glad you're here!

"Life is either a great adventure or nothing."  Helen Keller

Welcome All New BlogHer Readers :)

Adventures in Dating The New York City Edition

When I was dating in Los Angeles, there were challenges.  The biggest was me, in that, between going through a really sad break-up, losing my job, a death in the family, a depression, my mom being sick, I really did not care about dating.  AT ALL.

It became so far back on the back burner, it wasn't even on the burner.  In fact, I'm trying to rack my brain for someone I've even really liked in the last year or so and I'm not coming up with really, well, anyone.

(Sorry, if I dated you... I really am.  I am sure you were wonderful, charming, smelled nice and pulled out the chair but I can't quite remember your face... or name... again, sorry.)

I think around the time that I had surgery on my shoulder last year that things started to really come into focus, how I would want to live my life, what was missing and how could I make it better that I really started to think being in love or at the very least dating or at the very least, a drunken make-out would definitely make my life infinitely better.

Another prompting was my aunt saying that she imagined me to remain single much like an elderly friend of hers that never married.  Wait?  What?  Just because I had not been married off and pregnant like most of my cousins and friends in my small town by twenty-five, I was now destined to be a sad sack spinster? 

Great.  

In New York, I started to notice that well, I was getting noticed more.  Maybe it was the beaming smile I seem to posses at all times, with everything seeming so new and wonderful.  Maybe it was because you can actually be curvy in NY vs. LA and it's not seen as a big deal.  Maybe it was just that I was more ready.

I put up an ad on a dating website and when contacted by a guy, instead of wringing my hands over, "Is he the right guy for me?,"  I decided to approach dating as merely a new way to see a city I didn't know very well and get to know someone who might become, at the very least, a good friend.

I had no idea what I was in for.

Here's a highlight reel of some of the dates I've been on:

1)  The Wrestler:  The wrestler let me know after about two beers that he um... really wanted to wrestle me.  I thought he was kidding.  He was not.  Did I know any grappling moves?  Um, no.  I soon learned this was his fetish... to wrestle girls.  I would soon learn that this little quirk would be NOTHING compared to someone else I was about to meet.

2)  The I Have A Live In Girlfriend:  He was a lawyer and I thought, too clean cut for me but I forced myself to give it a chance.  We had lots of flirty emails so I was excited that there was chemistry there.  A plus, he showed up in a suit - not too shabby.  By drink #1, he wanted to know if I was okay that he was "attached."  To what, I asked?  Oh, attached to his live in girlfriend that he knows is the The One and it's only a matter of time before they get married?  Yeah, I was not okay with that.  At all.

3)  The Bigly Made:  You'll think I'm kidding but this guy sent me an email that so put my jaw on the floor that I sent it around to each one of my girlfriends.  A cute guy "winked" at me on a dating website, I introduced myself and he promptly wrote back.  Seemed promising enough, until I read the email.  He wanted me to know that he and his last girlfriend had a wild sex life and unless I thought I could keep up with lots of vigorous sex with someone that was "bigly made" (right?  I don't have to define that for you, do I, ladies?) then, I probably was NOT the woman for him.

Oh, also, he does not believe in condoms because it cuts down on the sensation by 50%.  Good to know.  Andddddddd delete.

4)  The He's Just A Jiggalo:  This guy I was crazy about.  Butterflies.  Not someone I felt immediately attracted to in pictures but within five minutes of conversation, I thought, "He. Is. Amazing."  He was charasmatic, thoughtful, interesting - everything.  There was something so "Aw, shucks," about him that was more cute than sexy but that's what I want.  Meaning, there isn't a lot of innocence to guys in NYC, you have a feeling they have seen and done it all.  So there was a sweetness to this guy that really, really appealed to me.

But I ended up finding out (and it would be such a long story to repeat), that this guy, regularly took ads out on places like Craigslist looking for bored and lonely housewives.  You know... for sexual intercourse.  I did not believe it when I found out.  There was no way.  It was the opposite of everything I saw in him... until, I saw the ad myself.   (If five or more of you leave me comments that you want the full story, I'll give it!)

It really, really shook me up on a lot of levels:  Was I that naive?  Was I that attention starved that I couldn't even see when I was being bullshitted to such a supreme degree?  Was he some kind of prostitute?  It was f'ing crazy.  

He never called me after our great date and it left me really, really sad.  So I guess one upshot to finding this all out was, ya know, I'm not really looking to date hustlers and con men that might give me The Herpes.  So, he was a little easier to get over.

5)  The I Have One Hundred And Fifty Dollars For An Hour Of Fun:  Yes, this happened.  I was propositioned like a prostitute.  Which I howled with laughter after I received the email.  His name was Gary and he was tall with dark hair and blue eyes.  He even sent me a photo of him on a boat, an American flag waving in the background.  It was like he stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue.  

We agreed to meet and he sent me this email, "I can give you $150 for an hour of fun.  Nothing weird."  I wrote back, "I'm not a prostitute, Gary!  But thanks for the compliment."  He wrote back, "I know you're not.  I thought this way, it would be mutually beneficial."  I had no idea what he was talking about.  Wouldn't the mutually beneficial part be that we both had fun on the date?

WHAT WAS GOING ON?   What is wrong with these people????  I said, of course, absolutely no.  Which made him even more determined and he has emailed me, no less than 34 more times over this past month.  Just yesterday he emailed me again.  Okay, he could go up to $200 an hour.  Again, nothing weird.  DELETE!

6)  The Halitosis Hottie:  self explanatory.  I will admit to one thing:  he was so hot, and I was so "kissed starved" that I invited him back to my place and told him I had a weird "tooth brushing fetish" and would only make out with him if he used my tooth brush and brushed his teeth.  He never called me again.

7)  The Whole Foods Fetish:  This guy let me know he found Whole Foods arousing, especially the hot food stations.  I blacked out after that.

There's more.  But why not spread it over some more posts?!  The funny thing is, none of this has discouraged me at all.  (You have to remember, I'm giving you the worst of the worst here over the course of six months)  

I will say, I do believe, you get what you pay for and all these dates came from a free dating website.  On a date with a really sweet guy last weekend, he confessed he saw this particular dating site as "more of a hook-up site than a dating site."

Noted.  Time to upgrade.  

Okay, which one of these dates would have you running for the hills?  And anyone want to challenge me on a date you've had that was worse than any of these?  I'd love to hear it!

***

Adventures in Dating
The New York City Edition

Adventure Bowl Take a Surfing Lesson, Part 2

When we last left off, I had fear swirling all around me about this adventure.  It's funny how that happens... fears creep up behind us and quickly zap all the joy and excitement we were initially feeling about an experience.

My lesson was for 3pm that day and the fear starting building that morning.  A lot of it stemmed from risking the loss of safety.  When I was 19, I panicked in the ocean and had to be dragged in by my best friend.  This was a feeling I NEVER experienced my whole life.  I was a certified life guard, grew up by the ocean.  Since that time, I have had 2 or 3 other big panic attacks in water over my head.  

But there was more to it than that.  More to the fear.  Every since I fell and broken/dislocated my shoulder, it's very hard for me to give up control.  To think about putting myself in a situation that I cannot control.  It's hard to explain - it's two pronged really - 1)  Fear of hurting myself or putting myself in danger where I cannot control the outcome and 2) The fact that my body is still weak in the shoulder area post surgery makes me hard for me to rely on my strength for things.

Another factor was just ego.  Was I willing to look like a fool?  Knowing I had less strength to work with, how would I feel about not being able to pop up on the board?  Or swim against the tide with the weight of a board under me?

I don't know why I feel shame about my own strength.  Even thinking about it makes me cry.  I hate that this accident has held me back in so many ways and has taken so long to get over.  The past few months, I have pushed myself to take gym classes that push me -- but it's embarrassing to not have the upper arm strength to do a push up (granted, they are push ups with our legs suspended in air - it's a crazy class).

I guess I feel... it's hard for me to be vulnerable in my own weakness.  I hate explaining:  Hey, I might look like a fool doing this, please don't make fun of me.  I just can't physically do some stuff.

I don't want to be less than.  So then I wonder, WHY AM I PUTTING MYSELF IN THIS POSITION???  Why am I even doing this stupid adventure if it's just going to make me feel bad?  

Then the reprieve:  My great aunt called.  The one who lost her husband recently.  Would I come over for lunch and spend time with my ailing grandmother.  Why, yes!  Yes I would!  It was 1pm.  This just might be the perfect thing to get me out of my surf lesson.  And I'd come out smelling like a rose - giving up my big time fun surfing adventure to spend time with the ill and the elderly?  What a good person I was!

Off I went to lunch with my great aunt and grandmother.   

And I was shocked by how what I saw there... would completely change me...

My grandmother is failing in her health.  That much I knew.  But I was surprised when I arrived at the elderly care facility that she stays in, that she could not walk unassisted.  And I don't mean just a hand on her elbow to guide her, I mean, she needs two people nearly taking on all her weight to get her from the couch to her bed.

And even with this help, all she can talk about it how afraid she is.  She doesn't want to walk.  She can't do it.  She looks lonely and isolated.  My mother's take on it is that the more my grandmother has let the fear creep into her that she will fall and hurt herself, the less she has walked, the more muscle mass she has lost, the weaker she has become.

Our minds, they play tricks.

Watching her -  and I realize this might be a very selfish reaction - but all I could think about was how grateful I am, to have my arms and my legs.  To be able to move, to be able to get better - to be able to surf though I might not be able to do it well.

I started to feel, almost a panic feeling, that's just how badly I wanted to get out of there and get on a surf board, as if doing that would wash away all the "ungratitude" I had for the use of my body.   

I was late for my lesson.   To them, it was as easy as just rescheduling.  To me, I had to do it, THAT DAY.  Today, right, now, I had to get up on that board.  I thought if I started to explain why, it would all come out so crazily, I might even cry.  I left and called a friend.  I knew he had the gear and could get me in the water. 

And soon, there we were, out there.  And I was right about a few things.  Yes, my injury got in the way.  My right arm does not have the strength to paddle me out very far - it just does not have it's full rotation yet.  So turning myself around and paddling faster than a wave in order to get me up - THAT WAS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.  

But instead of making me feel bad... it made me laugh.  Maybe it was giddiness... yeah, I'm not strong enough to do this NOW but I can get stronger.  I have all of that in my reach.  I just have to work harder for it.   

The other stuff, the other fears and insecurities fell away...  no, it was not the perfect adventure.  It was very IMperfect.  Just like me.  I flailed and looked silly and felt my weakness but I felt strong of heart.  Strong with boldness that I got out there.

And I was really proud of that.

Is there an adventure you would like to do but worry about physical limitations?  Or maybe you have a fear you need to overcome.  I'd love to hear it.  As much as my adventure was "imperfect," it felt really great just to try.

***

Adventure Bowl
Take a Surfing Lesson, Part 2