iworeheelsforthis

[iworeheelsforthis]

Miss Americana

I just watched the Taylor Swift documentary Miss Americana on Netflix. I actually enjoyed it. She bugged the shit out of me for years and as it turns out she bugged the shit out of herself, too. I really respect people who can see their own weaknesses.  

Since we're on that topic and I am vulnerable AF these days, here are some of my weaknesses.  Aside from chocolate, reality TV and sexy men.

I am incredibly hard on people.  Mainly myself but also everyone else. It has led to me to have a very small group of friends, only ones who can withstand my wrath of judgement or ones who are similar enough to me that I have no business judging. 

This doesn't stem out of nowhere.  Anyone who is insecure about themselves projects judgement onto others.  I have questioned myself my whole life.  Am I smart enough?  Pretty enough? Funny enough? Skinny enough? Good enough? Most of the time the answer has been no, in my own head at least. 

Again, this doesn't come out of nowhere.  My dad (RIP and today is his birthday so RIP times ten) probably should have had sons.  We were incredibly close when I was little and also before he died, when I was in my 20s.  All those middle years were tough.  He didn't know what to do with me and I kind of get it - it's probably really tough to navigate females in their tween and teen years as a male. 

I was always a very right brained kid and won the spelling challenges weekly in my class.  I'll never forget the day when he picked me up from 2nd grade and I was so excited to tell him that yet again I had won the 2nd grade spelling bee.  I couldn't wait for his reaction.  He responded with "and how did your math test go?" knowing that my answer would be nothing to brag about.  It's a memory that is ingrained in my head forever. I remember the street we were driving down and the loss of breath in my lungs.  I was terrible at math, as hard as I tried to be good at it because he reminded me frequently that he was a math major in college.

Every year of my school life I was punished with math tutors on top of my school days, homework, endless sports schedules, chorus group practices, whilst trying to maintain a social schedule and dedicate songs on the radio to my middle school crush Michael. My go-to was "(Everything I do) I do it for you" by Ryan Adams. I had just seen Robin Hood with Kevin Costner and this was the theme song.  So hot. Michael, I hope you were listening!

It wasn't until my senior year of high school that my parents finally had me tested for learning disabilities to find that I have basically a full blown non-existent math brain.  I had tested terribly in my PSATs and they were confused because I was generally a B student.  So they hired a fancy SAT tutor who promised my score would raise when they were done with me, but it declined significantly. It finally dawned on them that maybe I wasn't a moron and I had an actual issue, much like my little sister who had been diagnosed with multiple learning disabilities several years prior.  Granted, she is adopted so I get it.  They likely assumed their prodigy child was perfect.  Which clearly I am ;) 

Once my less than perfect diagnosis came through, which is that I literally cannot do math or take multiple choice tests (it's called executive processing and let me tell you that menus are an absolute nightmare for me which makes dating me super fun), I felt free.  Kind of.  I felt less stupid than I had in the 17 years prior but also realized that for 17 years I had felt stupid.  That's a hard pill to swallow.  

I took it upon myself to use this disadvantage as an advantage when writing my college application to the University of Oregon.  

I had visited 10 schools up an down California and back East.  No school had caught my interest and I never considered Oregon until my mom suggested we go visit. And when she did my plucky teenage Californian self said "Ugh, who goes to school in Oregon, Mom? I mean really?!" What a twerp.

Our flight was delayed (shocking SFO!) and we missed our campus tour but when I laid foot on that campus something shot through me like a lightening bolt. I had to go to this school, and this school only.  It was my first real gut instinct that this was my place.  I went home and threw my other college applications away.  Oregon or bust!  Also, ballsy AF! 

In my essay I acknowledged that my SAT scores would far from land me an admission into the school but took them through my journey of discovering that I had undiagnosed learning disabilities and during it all had powered through, overcompensating on extracurriculars to make up for always looking and feeling like an absolute idiot.  

One of the best days of my life was the day I was accepted to U of O. I was finally being accepted, despite the shortcomings of my brain.  It was the first time I ever felt truly worthy, in a scholarly way.  

It wasn't a picnic once I arrived on campus. I spent 4 years navigating professors who would test me orally (no, not that way you pervs!) or written essays, instead of with multiple choice testing. Many would not and I would have to drop that class within a week and find a new one - it would have taken a lot of extra time for them to give me that individual attention so I do understand to an extent. But I am so grateful to where it landed me - a broadcast Journalism degree where I could write and speak while proving I was smart and worthy.  A group of my friends and I started a TV show that was on public access TV and still runs to this day.  

I guess the point of this story is sometimes your weaknesses help you find your strengths.  And that's a blessing.  

I'm still an amazing speller and I as a recruiter, I never have to do math unless it's calculating how much I'll make off of a placement.  I'd say that's a full circle silver lining.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Won't You Be My Neighbor

As a lifelong adult apartment renter (because when you live in the Bay Area, and weren't an early employee at Facebook or your parents didn't buy you a house, that's your real option) I have had my fair share of crazy neighbors.  It's the luck of the draw and a total crapshoot who you'll end up living next to, above or below.  

When I had noise complaints about my neighbors in my San Francisco apartments the building manager would immediately take care of them.  I was spoiled.

Now that I live in the burbs, it's not such a great situation.  I live in a very nice and large complex, my view is amazing and I am grateful every day that I live here. Unfortunately I've dealt with less than desirable neighbors in these past 4+ years and the building management could care less about my concerns.  The main woman who works in the rental office is an awkward overweight woman who wanted to become my best friend when I moved in.  When I rebuffed her friendship advances, she turned on me. It's been a shit show ever since. 

She has entered my apartment without my consent and has let other workers do the same countless times. She hasn't even been sneaky about it - mud on my carpet, lights left on.  And yes, what she is doing is illegal but the Sheriff in this town does not care about my White Woman In Trouble complaints. 

I imagine her walking into my closet, smelling my clothes and trying on my shoes. I'm hoping none of that actually happens, but her creepy Single White Female glares make me wonder.  And we wonder why I have insomnia.

Unfortunately this dream woman allowed a full blown drug addict to move in below me about a year and a half ago, which I imagine was intentional.  It's been the modern day version of the movie Pacific Heights.  She's my Michael Keaton.

Last Christmas this woman tried to attack me and come into my apartment.  That story landed us in the local paper...

Every night she comes home around midnight and slams every drawer, door and closet in her apartment for roughly 3 hours.  It's not just someone getting ready for bed after a bender. It's a full blown attack on inanimate objects and my ability to sleep. I often have to resort to sleeping on the living room couch. As it is I have earplugs and a white noise machine, not to mention that fact that as a precaution I also sleep with a pillow over my head. HOW IS THIS OK!?  

The day after Christmas my apartment complex management sent me a letter letting me know that they were hiking my rent up yet again (now over $500 in 4 years, which doesn't happen in SF because of rent control) and they will require me to sign a one year lease even though I'm currently month to month.  I responded saying I would be open to signing a year lease if they can once and for all get Michael Keaton under control. They are terrified of her.  I know this because they've told my neighbors they are.  She is an 80 pound 71 year old woman on meth and she is actually really terrifying.

It's been a month since I emailed them with my request to control Miss Meth and during that time I've had a lot to think about.  I decided to give my 30 day notice yesterday. 

I'm not getting any younger, I don't have anything tying me to living in this apartment or the Bay Area (meaning a husband, mortgage or illegitimate children) and I now work remotely.  I have massive wanderlust and so I'm planning to travel indefinitely.  I couldn't be more excited to sell my belongings and just GO!  And I'll be sure to take you all with me on my adventures. 

[iworeheelsforthis]

The Boy Next Door

After breaking up with my boyfriend over the phone in September while walking on my favorite beach in California, I felt heartbroken. For an entire 36 hours.  I know that sounds sociopathic but the writing was on the wall for months, if not the entire relationship. He meant well but was raised by a father who valued his riches over relationships and a mother who had never wanted children.  He didn't have much of a chance of being a good man having been raised by wolves. And if you Google their names, they're wolves.  Lawsuit after lawsuit with every neighbor they've ever had, a contentious divorce, the articles go on and paint quite a picture of the in-laws I'm so grateful I'll never have. 

So when I found myself back East visiting my grandma as I typically do each summer, I was elated to meet her beefcake next door neighbor on the beach the day I arrived, one week after my breakup on a West coast beach.  

Let me preface this with the fact that once upon a time my dad had been my grandma's next door neighbor, whom she introduced to her daughter, my mom.  My meet-cute had the makings of a pretty sweet rom-com part 2. 

I took a redeye and landed on a Friday morning energized and ready to spend time with my spritely grandma (she swims in the ocean every day, comes in #1 at Bridge, and people assume she's my mom) and my mom (who people assume is my sister) who was on an extended visit with her.  It was going to be a long girls weekend in a sunny coastal town in Massachusetts where I've spent most of my summers.  

We made our way to the beach in the late morning. I was unshowered, in a red bikini and hyped up on coffee.  About 20 minutes after I planted my beach chair in the sand, I looked up from under my hat to see a hot guy my age, with longish romance novel curly locks, a built hockey body and a Greek glow to his skin.  WHO WAS THIS!?  

He quickly looked me up and down in a non-creepy but more of a curious way and introduced himself while saying hi to my mom and grandma. It was clear that there was an immediate chemistry and for the first time in 10 months I felt an electricity run through my body.  I had just been in a mostly sexless relationship with a man I wasn't that into so to have this hunk show up a week after that ended to reignite my loins was a welcome surprise.  

We made small talk - I live in California, he just bought a condo in that complex in October, I'm a recruiter, he had his own strategic consultancy. We both work from home and had the flexibility to be on the beach on a Friday.  Lucky us.

When my mom, grandma and I walked back to her condo, I said goodbye to him and he said he'd see me down there again the next day.  Once in private I immediately asked my grandma why she had never mentioned her sexy new neighbor?! She thought he was much younger than I am (potential insult to my youthful charm but, ok) and wasn't sure he was my type (dripping masculinity is everyone's type), plus I live 3,000 miles away. Ok, fair enough. 

The next day we saw Boston Boy down at the beach.  He started talking to me but I was suddenly distracted by a woman yelling "Is that goddamn ***** (my name)?!" and I begrudgingly walked over to say hello. It was the alcoholic mother (in that same complex) of a guy I had briefly dated about 5 years ago.  Yes, that makes things semi-complicated but hey, a girl is allowed to date the younger men in her grandma's neighborhood.  That guy had legit Asperger's and it did not work out.  

After I accidentally brushed off Boston Boy, he became standoffish the rest of the day and took off on his kayak.  When my mom and grandma went out to run errands at the end of the day, I showered, put on makeup and wore the cutest dress I had packed.  In between bouts of blowdrying my hair I'd peek out of the window to see if he was walking up from the beach. Finally, he appeared and I ran downstairs and out to the street to catch him.  "Hey! What are you up to tonight?" I asked (and semi-surprised with my forthcomingness).  "Hey! I was going to go to the gym. What are you up to?" I said I wanted to see if he wanted to hang out and he did.  He asked me to give him a few minutes to get ready and very shortly after he reappeared at my grandma's front door in a tank top, his wet swim trunks and white sunscreen still on his face.  I told him he could have more time to get ready but he sweetly said he wanted to spend as much time with me as possible.  

We walked along the water to one of my favorite restaurants, ordered drinks, and got to know each other. We realized we had a lot in common and the physical attraction was clearly on point.  We just seemed to click.  I was planning to meet my mom and grandma for dinner around the corner and they suggested I bring him along to join us, which I did.  When we walked into the restaurant they were definitely stunned to see his outfit.  In hindsight, it was ridiculous. He looked like a Jersey Shore cast member.  Fortunately he was adorable and endearing and they enjoyed their time with him.  But they still talk about that outfit (and it still haunts my dreams).  

My mom and grandma insisted that he and I walk home together while they drove home.  The moment we walked out of the restaurant he asked what I was looking for in a partner.  It was refreshing. I had just broken up with someone who lied to me for 10 months about wanting marriage and babies and this guy was straight up asking me on our first date what I wanted. I had nothing to lose so I was honest in that I had just broken up with someone who didn't want what I want and what I want is marriage and a baby and $10 million dollars, an Italian villa, and 5 trained golden retrievers, if that's in the cards.  He said he wanted the same things - he was divorced, didn't have kids yet and was hopeful for a second chance. 

We got back to the neighborhood and kissed.  I went back to my grandma's place, giddy as could be.  The next afternoon we made our way back down to the beach and he was there with his mom, who was as sweet as could be.  Also, my Asperger Ex was there.  His mother had clearly told him that I was in town so he drove from his town to make a surprise cameo on the beach and then acted all surprised to see me.  It was fairly awkward balancing Boston Boy with Asperger Ex and trying to not let on to either of them what the story was.  My grandma asked Boston Boy to take photos of us three women as Asperger Ex looked on, gawking and jealous.  

That night Boston Boy and I went to dinner, then back to his place where we slept together. It was sooner than I usually sleep with someone but I needed it. He was, in my mind, a weekend fling, a rebound, and a manly man.  He made me feel beautiful and when he easily picked me up with one arm, I felt tiny.  My small ex made me feel neither of those things.  I needed my palate cleansed and it was.  And the next night, more sex and a sweet send off, both of us appreciative of our time together.  

My mom and I flew home the next morning and a few days later he called me saying that he's a straight shooter and thinks we potentially had something.  He asked if I could I come back to explore it.  He knew I work from home and my grandma offered to let me stay at her place while she went to Florida for the winter.  I threw caution to the wind and booked a 2 week visit there a few weeks later.

It was an amazing two weeks. And it was hard. And I didn't sleep (East coast storms are real and I am already afraid of the dark). And work was crazy (I was working 14 hour days). And I was lonely (Boston Boy was next door but sometimes wouldn't reach out for a few days, which was awkward). And my insomnia was so bad that the silver lining is I got off my sleep meds because nothing worked. And I had really fun and passionate sex (really fun!). And I learned that he thought I was Jewish (wait, what?!), which he is and he thought that even if I wasn't that I'd covert and I won't so we actually can't be together.  But we had two weeks of fun dates like a Sinatra Dinner Show in Boston, a Halloween night in Salem (where Hocus Pocus was filmed and I sat next to a woman with real horns at a bar), a hayride (driven by a guy dressed as Slash) at a real pumpkin patch, a concert and hotel night in Boston, so many good dinners, and lots of long meaningful life talks. Hanging over us was the fact that I'm not Jewish and never would be.  His ex was Episcopalian and he had agreed to raise their children that way when they were married. Now that he had a new lease on life, he only wanted to raise his children Jewish and he wanted a wife who either was Jewish or would convert.  As much as I wanted to be the Charlotte to his Harry in Sex and the City, I couldn't be.  Not for him. 

After I got home to California we had a conversation where we concluded that I was not about to don a yarmulke or move to Massachusetts. I am tremendously grateful for the experience I had with him and also my newfound appreciation for California, my undeniable freedom of religion and the ability to be a lifelong Shiksa.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Forced Fun

I recently had coffee with my girlfriend who is starting a new job at a startup as their first recruiting hire.  The founder knows how amazing she is and suggested she also be in charge of setting the company culture.  She agreed, on the terms that there would be no "forced fun".  It got me thinking about all the times I have been forced into having "fun" at the companies I've worked for.  There's been no shortage of forced karaoke nights, happy hours, baby showers, company and employee anniversaries and birthday celebrations, the list goes on.  Granted, some people enjoy forced fun.  I, however, learned how to Irish exit (where you sneakily leave a party without saying goodbye to anyone) early on in my career knowing that I absolutely despise being forced to spend more time with coworkers than is required in an already forced work week. 

I'm headed to Denver this week for 2 days of forced fun with my coworkers.  Half my team is in Denver and the other half is in the Bay Area, yet we all work remotely and I think for good reason.  We all seem to be juuuust fine not having to subject ourselves to seeing each other in person...ever.  Fine, let's have a video Zoom meeting every day.  Ok, let's hop on Slack and message each other all day long.  But forcing us to all fly to Colorado in January without a fun ski trip involved is not something I'm looking forward to. 

It's partially the fact that they wouldn't pay for my hotel the night before so I have to take a 6am flight (meaning waking up at 3am) and spend 8 hours in meetings once I land, followed up by a forced fun team dinner, where I fully expect to nearly sleep-drown in my soup.  It's also the fact that on the second day of relentlessly being talked at by various team members about how to interview (I've been recruiting for 12+ years so this is offensive), how to source candidates (I've sourced candidates in every role I've had and managed and trained sourcers, so again, offensive), and sitting through employee awards (gag me!), I then have to do a 2.5 hour team activity before our 8pm dinner and holiday party.  Because nothing says lets celebrate like insomnia mixed with resentment. 

The 2.5 hour team activity is an Escape Room.  This terrifies me for several reasons.  1) I am claustrophobic. 2) I don't want to spend 2.5 hours of faking that I'm having fun in a small confined space with a group of people I have never physically met. 3) What the fuck!? Are we 12? And Escape Rooms are so 2 years ago, get with the times people!  

Disclaimer: our cofounders allowed two 24 year olds to plan this entire offsite, so it does make sense in that regard.  Another disclaimer: I am a horrible liar and don't have a poker face so everyone should expect my best Jerri Blank face, played by the amazing Amy Sedaris, soon to be played by me. 

Except, inside I'll be doing this:

If you or someone you know is in charge of forcing people at work to spend additional time together, here is a list of things people would actually cringe less over:

- Massages (a relaxed employee is a happy employee)

- Wine tasting (necessary)

- Nap time (also necessary)

- A roast of your boss (the only time you can be honest about how you really feel about them without getting fired)

- A meditation session (distract the mind from the people you're forced to be around)

- Getting to fly home on a weekday instead of a Saturday morning (like I have to) so they can get back to their sanity quicker (pray for me)

Besides this Escape Room disaster, I've also been forced into the following fun in past jobs:

- In-office karaoke where the insecure leader of the ad agency belted out show tune after show tune complete with choreographed dances and the splits, hogging the microphone and continually reminding us she grew up doing theater. Yeah, we get it, Sally, and now my ears are bleeding.

- Baby shower after baby shower - at my last company at least two people were pregnant on my team of 9 at any given time.  I love those girls and am still friends with them but dear God, what was in the water?! And when you force the single, childless female on the team to play pin-the-tail-on-the-baby and guess the baby name, it really made me wonder if I could create my own gift registry of champagne and sushi restaurant gift cards to congratulate me on successfully using birth control.

- A holiday party where the Head of HR was hitting up everyone on our team for drugs, whilst her 65 year old fake boobs where verging on nipple protrusion from her very revealing dress.  

- A networking event we were forced to host when I worked for a staffing agency, where our male boss got so blackout drunk, bailed on the event that was his idea and was found passed out in the lobby of his hotel at 2am with his smashed phone next to his lifeless body. 

- This isn't company related but definitely forced fun related: a red-headed male stripper would come to our sorority every year for the Seniors as a "present" to them, get buck naked, grind on our housemother and our cook and then we'd have to see him later at the bar because he was the bouncer. I'm pretty sure if my parents knew that's where some of my chapter fees were going, they would have asked for their money back. 

This will be a true test of my patience but God willing, I'll survive. I'll be grateful every day after for the fact that I get to work in the peace of my home, yoga pants locked and loaded, without the fear of being trapped in a small space with people I don't know.  

[iworeheelsforthis]

Daddy Issues

I've confirmed that I don't want to date a man with children.  I just went on another failed attempt of a date with a divorced man who pays alimony and child support for his three children to an ex-wife who never worked (honestly this boggles my mind in this day and age) and will forevermore require his funds.  

The level of complication involved in that type of arrangement is simply not for me.  I've tried to be open to the idea but at the end of the day I don't want someone's crazy ex-wife involved in my life and when you share children with a man and he gets remarried, the ex inevitably gets a little wackadoodle.  And I get it - I wouldn't want some new woman swooping in raising my imaginary kids half the time either. Even though it is well known that I was a FANTASTIC babysitter growing up.  I'm pretty sure that's all that's required to nail it as a step mom, right?

A lot of divorcées have been out of the dating game for a while so they can be  rusty and unkempt.   They tend to see me as a younger free babysitter beacon of hope in this new single dad life they're navigating. A few things they have in common are that they often don't dress very well and aren't the best kissers. They are typically coming out of loveless and sexless marriages (believe me, they tell me ALL about it, much to my horror) and they aren't up to par with what I am looking for in a man, sexual compatability-wise at least.  And clearly they weren't that for their now horny ex-wives either.

I want a man who isn't timid and knows how to kiss REALLY well, can non-violently push me against a wall and make out with me, who knows that opening doors and being chivalrous is always appropriate no matter what decade you're in, and can dress like a goddamn adult.  None of this bad haircut, outdated clothes, unshaven beards type of crap I'm seeing from these left-out-to-pasture fathers.  They look like prime contestants for Queer Eye makeovers.

My first attempt at dating dads was several years ago, which I've written about in this blog.  He told me about his infidelity, how she took half his money and how he only gets to see his kids every so often because she uses them as leverage for more dough.  No thank you. That ended after a few dates.

Then a few years ago I went on some dates with another dad. He was a shorter but handsome guy with what I call bowling ball arms.  His limbs were stalky and he worked out a lot so his biceps looked like small bowling balls. It wasn't attractive.

Anyway, he had an adorable 6 year old daughter with, what I learned to be, a crazy ex-wife.�� Crazy in the sense that their divorce was so contentious that she had to be restrained from physically attacking him in court, he had to get a restraining order against her and she feeds their small child terrible information about him as a father and person.  

He said she would go ballistic if she found out we were dating and would likely try to do everything in her power to make my life a living hell.  "You're much younger than she is and you're beautiful. She'd despise you and it would be a nightmare.  But we can try to make it work, what do you think?"  Those were the last words I ever let him say to me.

A few months ago I went on three dates with Stoner Dad.  He was attractive and had been divorced for a few years, saying it was amicable.  Well, he failed to mention in date one that his ex had never worked and he has to pay her the majority of his salary so she can live in a big house, while he rents a 2 bedroom apartment and he actually doesn't really make that much money but he's "trying to make it work".  He also admitted he had never wanted children and she trapped him into having them.  That all sounds like a real life fairytale, no?

On top of this he was a major stoner.  He smoked weed ALL THE TIME.  There's nothing very appealing about a guy who already isn't terribly ambitious, is paying most of his income to a woman who trapped him with children and refuses to work, who then on top of it smokes pot all the time.  Plus, he had a small penis, so that above all else ended things after date three.  But even if he had a nice big penis and the rest remained, I still would have had to end it. Right?!

Shortly after that I agreed to go on a date with another dad of two teenage daughters. Can you imagine what they would do to me? If my parents had divorced when I was a teenager and my dad dated a woman in her 30s I would have made her life a living hell. He also admitted that his ex didn't work and it was a contentious divorce. I mean, thank you to these men who admit their horrific divorces but also, this is not a good sales pitch.  

This week's failed date was with a newly divorced dad of...THREE.  Three human beings.  His dating profile photos only showed one child so learning about the two others was a real sneak attack on his part. His youngest is five years old and she is the reason he and his wife split, which I hope he never tells his daughter.  Again, the ex-wife never worked but she lives in a beautiful 4 bedroom home in an affluent town.  Fortunately he seems to be doing just fine because he also bought his own 4 bedroom home on the water with a dock and his boat. 

He needed to shave and whiten his teeth, and grow 6 inches and get less drunk, and not have made a scene at the bar, loudly played videos of his kids for me (which I definitely didn't ask for) and then MAYBE I would have accepted his second date offer. Juuust kidding. 

My favorite dad dating story is one that happened shortly after I broke up with my ex 4 months ago.  I matched up with a hot guy online and it turns out we went to high school and were even on the swim team together.  I had remembered him as an attractive guy in the grade ahead of me but we never interacted back then.  

When we matched I was excited and soon after we met up for our first date. He told me about his adorable 7 year old daughter as he wined and dined me but he really wined and dined himself, too.  He had 7 drinks on that first date and every single drink was different, which made his boozing more noticeable. Also, he drinks like a chick. A drunk chick, but a chick nonetheless. We call it White Girl Wasted.  I know when parents go out they like to cut loose - it's a night off from the kid(s) and time to party.  He had a margarita, then a mezcal mule, then a tequila neat, then a glass of prosecco, followed by a Moscow mule and a glass of chardonnay and red wine to finish the night out.  Can you imagine that hangover?!  I have a headache just thinking about it.  

Somehow I wasn't as phased by it as I normally would have been.  He was tall and very good looking, he held my hand and kissed me by a fireplace at the restaurant.  I was living out a high school fantasy and clearly blind to his alcoholism. We made out hard in the parking lot when the date was over - he picked me up (I LOVE when guys do this, particularly since my ex was small and also my height and he would have gotten a hernia attempting this move), looked me in my eyes and asked "where have you been?" Hot. I was excited to see him again.

We went out to dinner a few days later and when he picked up the tab he assured me I could pick up the next one.  It was a turnoff.  Then I come to find he lives in a really seedy part of town because the rent is incredibly cheap. Because NO ONE wants to live there unless murder is on their mind. He also admits that even though he's a lawyer, his type of law has a government cap on what he can take home. I did the math and realized he makes less than half of what I do.  It's not all about money, but I looked at this situation as me swooping in as the bread winner only to have to pay child support to his ex, oh and pay off his insane student loan debt that he "just couldn't seem to get a hold on".

On our third date which I was sure would be our last but sometimes I just like to test things out for torture fun we went out to dinner, he again got wasted, ordered so much alcohol, we ended up splitting the expensive bill and he told me he is trying to get his baby mama deported.  WHAT?!  On the first date he said they were on good terms. But give this guy some alcohol and the truth comes out.  Not only is she illegally here (and they were never married) but she is also a lesbian who trapped him into giving her his seed, and her male cousin is named as the father on the birth certificate.  

I was stunned, shocked, disgusted, you name it.  I broke it off with him the next day much to his surprise.  He thought we really had something.  I thought he had a drinking problem and was terrified to get anywhere near the illegal immigration custody battle that was brewing. 

So the next time someone suggests I be open to dating a man with kids, I'll remind myself and them that it's usually a complete nightmare situation and I haven't made it this far to succumb to a messy ex-wife baby mama drama situation.  I prefer to make my own damn messes, thank you very much.

[iworeheelsforthis]

The New Rules

I just re-read the chapter topics of the book The Rules before writing this to see if there was crossover and dammit, there is.  I remember reading that book about 20 years ago thinking it sounded crazy.  How dare I make a man work so hard? How could I expect so much of someone? Welp, lesson learned.  I never expected much of any man and here we are.  I am tucking my tail between my legs and reverting back to the original rules as words to live by, but here are mine with a twist. 

#1: Be the Badass Chick Your Friends Know You Are

We all have our doubts and insecurities.  When approaching dating you MUST go into it thinking you are a swan.  THE swan. And you must present yourself that way in your online dating profile.  Put your best self forward.  It's like a cracked out version of your Facebook or Instagram profile but geared toward what men want.  And what they want is a girl who is approachable, attractive, has hobbies, travels, doesn't pose with duck face or Snapchat filters and isn't obsessed with selfies. Be the cool chick without trying too hard.  Challenging? Yes. Doable? Absolutely. 

I recently helped my friend and my mom with their online profiles and it was a full rehaul.  They were both approaching their profiles as what they'd want to see. In another woman! But they don't want to date other women so I had to reframe it for them as how to best present themselves to men. 

"No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, Liberal, I want to meet someone who is spiritual and self evolved and likes hiking and traveling to moonlit beaches hand in hand" - not the actual profile but basically how I would have read it as a man.  No, no, no.  This is uptight.  You need to come off as approachable.  So many No's make a man cringe and run.  Let him find out on his own when you meet him what your preferences are.  But don't also rule out amazing men who might be willing to compromise before learning what those things are.  

Post pictures where you're wearing makeup and look genuinely happy, and are in a cool country you loved exploring on your own, or on top of a mountain you just climbed, sweaty but sexy.  Show you but show your best you.  And if you don't have enough photos like that make your best friend climb a goddamn mountain with you and take those photos of you.  And then filter them tastefully so you look like a glowing, yet realistic goddess.

#2: Be Fun and Happy but Don't Give Too Much Yet

Men like to chase. That is their physiology and we must let them do it. Once I gave into this reality, holy shit, did I get chased. And I felt sexier than ever.  You want me? Come and get it. You don't want to try? You were way too weak for me and I'd learn that when it was too late.  

I have chased men my entire life.  I've tried to prove that I am worthy of their love and time and yes, this totally stems from my childhood which I am fully aware of and have gone for years of therapy/reiki/energy healing/crystal praying/meditation/you get the point. 

Once I gave in to the idea of "you don't want this? Ok, boy bye" that's when the men came out of their caves to seek me out. I know this sounds like the beginning of a damn romance novel but no good story started with "and then I chased him for years and finally he relented and now he resents me but we make it work". It never works.  Men want to hunt. 

So when you are interacting with men online or in real life, be cute and funny and endearing in those early interactions. Give just enough so they come back for more.  And then stop. Let them want to know more and let them ask you out.  It works every damn time and weeds out the weaklings instantly. 

#3: Never Pay on the First Three Dates

I never pay for the first 3 dates.  I play a little game in there as a test.  And yes, we must test men sometimes.  

If a man asks you out, he has asked you as his date to go out with him and that is his treat.  I used to offer to split the bill on first dates but never do now.  I don't even look when the bill comes and they don't flinch. They automatically pull out their card or often try to sneak paying for it without me noticing. Give it notice and everyone gets uncomfortable, including the waiter.

On the second date I will pretend to reach for my card.  Every time since I've done this almost every man has shooed me away, saying it is his treat.  BUT here's the trick.  IF he follows that up with saying you can get the next one, be wary.  For me, I am instantly on high alert.  At this point we have maybe kissed but most likely not.  If you haven't kissed me yet and want to continue to date me and can assume I am dating other men, you better step up and pay for dates until you realize you want to lock me down.  Sorry ladies, I know that sounds ballsy but BE THAT BADASS CHICK and KNOW YOUR WORTH.  Yes, you can afford you own damn meal but he asked you out again, you're beautiful and he should assume he is not the only one vying for your attention and if he wants to get anywhere near a 3rd date or your vagina, he’d better pick up that tab without flinching.

You can kiss him on that date if you're feeling it (and sometimes I do because I am a female with needs), but if he has put it in my mind that I am maybe picking up date 3, I have likely already put him in the friend zone (aka I'll never see him again).

If and when Date #3 comes around and so does the check you can in earnest pull out your card and offer to split.  Again, if he takes me up on it I'm honestly usually turned off.  I will, however, pay for our drinks if we go to a bar after. That is fair and shows that you aren't a princess, but that you also have standards and expectations. 

The other day my friend said "You want me to pay and you're putting your penis in my vagina? Gross. Get out of here." And it's true.  

I get that it must be CRAZY expensive if you're a guy dating constantly and having to pick up the tab.  But if you can't afford it, don't get out there. It's part of the process and maybe only go for coffee dates, dude. Get all hyped up on that caffeine but keep me out of it.

#4: Create Date #1, 2 and 3 Uniforms

This has saved me from hours of questioning what to wear.  Instead, I have a uniform for my first 3 dates, much like 6th through 8th grade when I was the non-Catholic Catholic school girl. 

Date #1 is a black criss-cross low cut tight, yet classy top, tight dark jeans (I finally got a semi-butt from going to Barre class 4 days/week, thank GOD), brown suede boots and a fuzzy short jacket that every guy says is adorable but in a sexy way.  I straighten my hair and keep my makeup fairly simple but a smokier eye with a neutral lip. It has gotten me date #2 every single time. Keep in mind it's winter, so this level of coverage is appropriate.  

I have that outfit ready and pressed every day so that I don't have to think twice about what to wear on a first date.  It also sort of mentally helps me track which date I was on with whom when I have to retrace my steps with each of them.

Date #2 is a lacy camisole, black leather jacket and tight black jeans with sexy but cute heels (aka no hooker heels). I add some waves to my hair and maybe a darker lip. I receive compliments every time.  

Date #3 is a dress. Let him see your legs. Guys like legs. And butts. And boobs. But let him see your legs.  It makes you look playful and flirty. Shave said legs. They'll be grabbing them all throughout the date.

#5: Let Him Text You

I used to text and thank guys after dates. No more. Let him thank you and tell you how much fun he had. Sometimes it happens later than night or the next day. And if he never reaches out again, NEXT.  You probably weren't that into him anyway and if you thought you were, revert back to Rule #2. Don't chase.

#6: Give Him a 4pm Cut Off Time

If a man has made a plan to take me out a few days in advance, I give him until 4pm the day of that date to send me the details of where we are meeting and when.  If you don't hear from him by 4pm the day of the date, move on.  Ideal timeframes are the day before up until 1pm the day of.  You are not expected to be at his beck and call and if you let him think that you are then it's setting a precedent for the rest of a potential relationship. You are not here to bend over backwards for him to get his shit together and prioritize you. You have things to do. And even if you don't, make him think that you do. Even if that's just bingeing what I call my bitch shows (Real Housewives, Bachelor, Vanderpump Rules, etc).  No shame in my bitch show watching game. 

I recently had a guy begging to take me out for a week. When I finally gave him my Monday slot, he fucked up.  On Monday at 5:30pm he texted asking if I was around.  I responded at 7pm saying he should have texted sooner and maybe we could reschedule.  He was profusely apologetic and acknowledged his complete lapse.  I was nice enough about it so he felt even worse.  Since my dance card is now full at least a week out, he has been scrambling to reschedule and I just don't have the time.  

They snooze, they lose.  And that drives a man completely bonkers.  

#7: Go With Your Gut

At the end of the day, go with your gut. How does he make you feel? Are you excited? Does he make you want to get to know him better? Does he make you feel needy (run!)? Does he make you feel special (you are!)? Does he open the door for you (he should!)? Does he knock on your door when he picks you up or does he wait in the car and text "Here!" (dealbreaker for me, personally)? Is he a good kisser (has to be)? Does he tell you you're beautiful (you're the prettiest in all the land!)? Does he tell you he wants to see you again?

LISTEN TO ALL OF THESE THINGS and what is going on in your heart. Sometimes when you're on a date and in the moment it's hard to know how you really feel and it's ok to go home and decipher those feelings first. You don't have to figure it all out then.

I often have to go home after a date and decompress and think how I feel about this person and if I want to see them again.  I get on overload between having to be "on" yet authentic yet a good listener and a good storyteller, flirty and sweet combined with confident and sexy. I'm basically living multiple personalities in a 2 hour span. It's just a lot all at once.

Sometimes it's more obvious and I can't want to see them again. But I also wait for them to say that first. Again, let them hunt.  

Patty Stanger from Millionaire Matchmaker once said something like "YOU are the prize. Never forget that. And if he doesn't get that, move on and find the one who does".  I couldn't agree more. 

[iworeheelsforthis]

Speed Dating

I've been straight up marathon dating, going on 1-2 dates per day.  PER DAY. Every day! Yes, this is insane and not for the faint of heart.  

I prefer to double them up so that I'm only primping once per two guys and can wear the same outfit, and then it sometimes allows me to try to take a night off once a week from a date.  I'm exhausted.  I'm exhilarated. I'm cranky. I'm overly wined and dined. I'm ready.

That being said, this period of dating has been the most fun of my life.  I know exactly what I'm looking for, I have a set of rules I live by to keep it structured and to keep me semi-sane, and have met some of the highest quality men ever.  It's incredible and though I am running out of steam, I feel fortunate to have had an influx of mostly smart, attractive, driven, chivalrous, kind, funny guys asking to take me out night after night. 

Besides Mr. Narcissist, no one has made it past date three yet and I'll tell you why.  I'm not looking to potentially grow feelings or force chemistry or look past a red flag.  I've done that for 38 years and my data shows it doesn't work.  I know within a few minutes of meeting someone if I'm ever going to let him kiss me, within 1 date if I'll ever see him again, and within 2 dates if I'll ever sleep with him.  I'm also very honest when I let guys down - I can't force chemistry or I don't see a future. I also like to make sure I don't fall in love with a guy whose penis size I cannot determine with my hand over (and hey, sometimes under) his pants.  I have a friend who reminded me not to fall in love with a man with a small penis.  She's now a lesbian. Lesson learned. 

I've gone on dates with all types of men - some short (men tend to lie about their height online), some tall. One who lives on a boat in the middle of the Bay and has to row out to it. One who never locks his front door like a wannabe bohemian.  Another who charters his own boats in majestic places like Fiji.  Some make piles of money while others make enough to be happy to live the type of life that satisfies their soul. 

Of all the dates I've had there have only been a few bad ones. 

One had cats. I can never date a cat man - it's just not my thing and I've learned it says a lot about a man if he chooses to prioritize that kind of pussy. He pulled cat hair from his mouth all throughout lunch and ordered a salmon sandwich which was getting entangled with said cat hairs. After lunch he texted me to tell me how fishy his mouth tasted.  He was surprised when I said I didn't care to see him again. Or meet his cats. 

The first guy I went on a date with a few days after my 10 month relationship ended was a terrible way to kick off my dating spree.  He asked me out for drinks at 1pm on a hot Sunday.  I hadn't been drinking much for the past 3 months so my glass of Sauvignon Blanc hit me hard, but not hard enough for what I had to sit through. He showed up unshaven and unshowered with a baseball cap covering his likely balding sweaty head.  His Invisalign was locked into his teeth and tucked into it were several pieces of food.  He called the waiter "boss" and "boss man" and drank two Manhattans in a clear attempt to level out his obvious hangover.  He told me how he only travels with his parents and he wasn't very active.  I ended the date as soon as I could. The next day he reached out saying he wasn't sure if I felt a connection but we should go for a hike and find out.  I didn't want to find out if he'd murder me on a mountain so I thanked him and kindly assured him there was no connection. Fast forward a few months and he tried to match with me again on the same dating app with the same pickup line.  No thanks, boss man. 

I recently turned down a guy for a 3rd date. Our first date was at Starbucks where he just talked at me for 45 minutes and I was so drained after that I took a long nap.  But what he was saying was interesting and I figured he was just nervous so I gave him a chance at a 2nd date.  Plus he had a southern accent which seemed endearing.  On our second date I learned it was not endearing. Mainly because he is from Florida and his southern accent made me think he was doing the Madonna British accent thing when she lived in England for a few years and was suddenly the Queen of England.  I'm sure the Bayou was close, but dude, you're not southern!  Also, he was a bad kisser.  And that is always a dealbreaker.  Always.  

Considering my lack of sleep (I'm going to bed way past my bed 9pm bedtime every night), constant primping (I feel like a Toddlers & Tiaras contestant every.single.day.), overindulging (I work out 2+ hours a day to try to maintain the weight that comes with all the wine and rich food I'm consuming - yeah, poor me, I know), and constantly trying to remember which stories I've told to whom ("I told you this, right? No?" and then ramble on the same story for the 14th time that week to a new audience - I've really nailed down my punch lines at this point), I'm doing all right.  I know my end game and that is to find my love.  I'm willing to put in the time and blood (makeup), sweat (exercise) and tears (actually just crying a lot) to get to what I want.  And that is a tall, handsome, mentally stable man with ambition, kind friends and family, a nice sized penis, who is chivalrous, funny, active, intelligent, and lets me be the absolute nut that I am.  

[iworeheelsforthis]

Just Say No To Narcissists

I'm frankly quite embarrassed that I kind of fell for a real life classic narcissist but I guess it goes to show you how brilliant they are - it's a true mental illness that makes even the most sane and confident women question their own worth or truth.  Beautiful.

We matched on Hinge one night and agreed to meet the next day for coffee.  He was older than someone I was planning on dating but he came on strong and it was intoxicating. I felt special and beautiful and who doesn't want to feel that way? He felt like the first real man I had gone out with amongst a sea of boys only yearning to get to his level of maturity, life goals, daily activities and interests, passion for travel and level of self awareness.  He insisted on picking up every expensive meal we went out to, we couldn't keep our hands off each other, he talked about us getting a dog and where we should end up living one day and all the trips we were going to take. He called me his girlfriend and wanted me to meet his family. And this was in the first week.  The first week! The intelligent and pragmatic version of me I know so well went to the wayside because he was THAT believable. I am usually a complete skeptic when someone comes on strong so fast.  But he had his way with words and stories and I fell for it hook, line and sinker.   The actual term for this is "love bombing" and narcissists do it best.  And bombed I was.

We had a fun 3 weeks of dinners, nights in cuddling, a concert, amazing sex, picking out my Christmas tree (which as a Christmas enthusiast is basically me saying I'll probably marry you one day), wine tasting (he joined a wine club saying it was now our club-and I dry heaved writing that just now), and a weekend away on the California coast with 30 of his friends for a birthday party.  It all had the makings of a beautiful romance except for when I clogged the toilet and flooded the bathroom in our hotel.  He'd tell me I was his soulmate (but also told me he only dates 5'7" blondes so I'm pretty sure a number of girls could have fit the soulmate bill), that he was going to give me a key to his apartment (literally on our 2nd date), that he'd like me to come to Tahoe as much as possible (more on that in a minute) and that I should meet him in Hawaii for a week on his way back from his trip to Japan (I never booked that imaginary flight).  Talk talk talk and zero action.  None of those things ever happened and now I know in his imaginary world that they never would have. Isn't make believe fun?!

After our weekend away he took off to his winter rental in Tahoe to go skiing for a few days.  Radio silence. Was he dead? Maybe a text here, maybe another one there, all spaced out about 8 hours apart, yet I could see him active on Instagram.  Let's talk about that for a moment - this 45 year old man was OBSESSED with Instagram like he was a 12 year old girl vying for attention from 1200 of her peers.  He had endless followers and was following every type of girl you could imagine, talked about how he one day wants to make money off his posts, and was attached to the app like Whitney Houston was to crack (R.I.P.).  I had never seen anything like it.  I typically date guys who despise social media so this was new to me.  Narcissists have an exaggerated sense of self importance and require constant and excessive admiration.  Instagram was that for him.  It made him feel like the most special snowflake in all the land of man boys. 

After I finally got him on the phone asking if this is how he was planning for us to communicate all winter, he went ballistic.  "You're not dating anyone else and neither am I so I don't see why we have to be in touch!" Um, human decency? It really made me question if I was being needy. "Are you coming home soon?" I asked.  "I don't know, maybe next week", he said.  Ahh cool, now I'm the girl who just waits around hoping her man will come back? Hard no.

I now realize that he has a second life up there, full of friends, and maybe another girlfriend, who I will never meet.  He said his ex would get crazy jealous and depressed when he'd take off for 6 months at a time. Gee, I wonder why, that crazy bitch. And now he was making me out to be crazy bitch v2.  That was it for me.  I mentally broke things off with him and went back on Hinge (which he asked me to delete on date 3 because he already allegedly did when he found me - again, barf).  

I scheduled my first rebound date the same night I was breaking things off with him over the phone.  He yelled at me because narcissists don't like rejection or feeling out of control. I remained calm and treated him like the special boy he is and immediately got off the phone and went on my date with a very PG rated guy which helped me put things in perspective. Go for the nice guys, dammit!

The next day he texted saying he was sad, his friends love me and maybe one day he and I could be friends, too.  Sure! Let's be bff's and get matching tattoos and pretend there's no sexual tension when we hang out. That seems like the healthiest thing a 45 year old man could do!  

Now about every 4 days he sends me sexts that I don't respond to. Game recognize game, and game over playahhh.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Hinge-d

I'm back! Back after a too-long hiatus.  Since I've last written, I've been in and gotten out of a 10 month relationship, had a rebound 2 week love affair in Massachusetts, have since gone on around 38 dates (in a 2 month span), was in a blink-and-you-missed-it 1 month relationship and am back to going on 1-2 dates per day, on average.  

Being 38, single and childless was not something I ever expected. I don't watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians, but one time Khloe's ex-husband was being interviewed after his near-death hooker sexcapades and he said "Tell God your plans and watch him laugh". I know that's not originally his own but it's always stuck with me. Thanks Lammie (Khloe's pet name for him. I swear I don't watch the show).  

It's been challenging figuring out if I'm living my best life or am I missing something? Is it society who wants me to have the white picket fence and 2.5 kids, or is there something within me that yearns for that? I'm not entirely sure yet but in the meantime I'm having a pretty fun time finding out and plan to document the ride, albeit bumpy at times. 

Resilient.  That's what most people call me.  I can wallow in the depths of despair (a favorite quote from Anne of Green Gables, and yes I am a nerd) for a day or two, thinking I'll never recover from a breakup, a setback at work, or side swiping the brand new car I just bought with my hard earned money that I got a near ulcer earning. Oh, the pain! I am resilient, but I also cry a lot now (it's super weird sitting on your couch in the dark staring at the wall wondering what the fuck you're doing with your life), get super moody (my poor mom gets the brunt of it and then I get major guilt for acting like the full on twat I sometimes was as a teenager, like when I'd tell her she's pathetic when she dropped me off at school and she'd cry all the way home - that kind of twat) and then have the highest of highs where I feel nothing can stop me (I like to scream-sing along to the 90s song Two Princes when I'm on my way to back-to-back dates, thinking how lucky I am to have two men vying for my attention in the course of one evening). I understand that this makes me sound bipolar but I think I'm just feeling all the feels and letting that be an ok thing, as painful as it is at times.  

I'll end this re-emergence post with sharing the moment I knew I was going to be honest moving forward. I've found myself being overly agreeable in relationships, going with the flow and being the cool girl, letting things bother me but not speaking up until I ended up blowing up (and freaking the shit out of every guy I do this to as if I randomly turned into a she-devil one day and it hadn't actually been brewing for months or years), and choosing men who quite frankly never stood a chance to last the test of time with clearly uncomplicated moi.  My dad used to tell my mom it takes a strong guy to be with me. He wasn't lying. 

After 7 years of truly being single, meaning I hadn't called anyone my boyfriend in that long, I found myself in a relationship with a man over 4 years younger than me, who pursued me strongly.  We went on one date after I got back from an international trip. I was jet lagged, he was persistent and within a few weeks he was calling me his girlfriend. I was flattered - it had felt like pulling teeth trying to get a man in this town to commit since my last relationship, though the ones who would commit were the ones I absolutely wanted nothing to do with long term. Go figure.

The first few months were fun and I had butterflies. Reality soon set in and between his mother’s ongoing terminal illness (he was extremely depressed but wouldn't seek out help so I was his grief counselor), his obsession with Iron Man races and everything that encompasses that lifestyle (endless training, injuries, exhaustion, diet, and socialization/alcohol limitations), his dog (he wouldn't go to the movies with me because he didn't want to leave her alone for 2 hours), disinterest in traveling (he had traveled the world after college so had no interest in exploring with me), his cheapness (he legit had me Venmo him if we went out to do anything together, including coffee, which is particularly odd since he has a trust fund), and his selfishness (he wasn't exactly concerned if I had any fun in the bedroom and I assure you that I did not), I found myself feeling trapped.  I wanted to be in a relationship but at what cost?  Was this all there was? NO. Absolutely not. I had been alone for 7 years and I actually enjoyed it.  If someone wasn't going to enhance my life, they needed to GTFO.

We had been looking at apartments to move into together but when I asked him about marriage and kids he would play along like "yeah yeah, in the future" but wouldn't have a direct conversation with me about his desire or timeline for those things.  After his last Iron Man race (of the 3 I traveled to with him) where I gave up my full weekend, took time off work, helped him prep, waited for him to check in to every transition area, woke up at 4am to chase him around all day and take his photos and then deal with his inevitable injuries and frustration after, I knew I was done.  Who had I become?!  I was not that girl and I never wanted to be. I couldn't be his mother or his nurse/coach/therapist/doormat. 

The next day he drove to southern California to spend another week with his mom who was in her most dire straits to date.  I drove out to the beach at 6am and walked the 5 mile span, bawling. I knew I had to end it but it hurt, and it was scary to be alone again.  I just lost another almost year of my childbearing years and for what?  

He called me on my walk back and seemed to know what was about to happen.  I point blank asked him if he ever wanted to get married or have kids. He said he was about a year away from wanting to move in together, he wasn't sure about marriage and he definitely didn't want kids. He said he hadn't wanted to be honest with me about these things because he knew he'd lose me. Again, selfish AF. 

He made it my easiest break up to date.  When someone makes it very black and white for you, it's a blessing. 

"So that's it for you, isn't it?" he asked.

"It is," I said.

"Ok, I'm sorry."

"Me too, goodbye."

And that was it. Except for about a month later when he texted me that he had just dropped my key under my mat (while he knew I was home and didn't have the balls to ring my doorbell) and could I mail him the keys to his apartment? I didn't text back but instead flung his keys into the dumpster.  Hey Cheap Ass, it costs $3 to make a copy of your key. Splurge.

Anyway, I cried all the way home and at the pool that afternoon (I know how white girl that sounds, oh woe is me) my 80 year old neighbor consoled me, she didn't coddle me.  She straight up said "Fuck that guy, get back online today".  I looked at her in shock, thought about it for 2 seconds and realized, fuck yeah! I gave that jackass 10 months of my life and I'm not giving him another day.  

I downloaded Hinge that night and have been having a blast, sprinkled with cringeworthy moments like the man who pulled cat hair out of his mouth all through lunch, for the past 3 months.  Those fun stories are on their way soon. 

XOXO, Hinge Girl

[iworeheelsforthis]

Take It Easy

My mom and I went to the Eagles concert at AT&T ballpark in SF a few weeks ago and it did not disappoint.  She introduced me to their music at an early age and Hotel California has been a top 5 song for me since then.  Look at these studs.

We got there early thinking that since the Eagles have aged maybe the show really did start close to 5pm.  No no.  That's when the Doobie Brothers played.  Then Zac Brown Band, and then the Eagles appeared around 8:30pm playing until 11, way past my bedtime. 

Several rows ahead of us was a woman we dubbed Witchy Woman.  She was standing and dancing THE ENTIRE NIGHT even when music wasn't playing, singing all the wrong words and constantly looking around to see who was checking her out.  She was wasted when she arrived and continued to indulge until the bitter end.  Everyone directly behind her was blocked from seeing any of the acts but apparently too afraid to kindly ask her to just sit the fuck down already.

Ballparks are apparently getting in on the dietary restriction band wagon and I found myself a tasty gluten free beer and gluten free hot dog.  See, you can be healthy and enjoy carbs and trans fats at the same time.  It's 2018 people!

The family directly in front of us enjoyed one huge ice cream cone, each taking licks and passing it back and forth.  But the kids were in their 20s so it wasn't a cute family moment at all.  

Finally, the Eagles were on stage.  And at the very moment the first note played, a fight broke out behind us.  Two men in their 50s started shoving each other, ironically as Take It Easy played.  One looked like a regular guy but his testosterone kicked in and he wouldn't back down much to his wife's annoyance.  The other guy looked like a bad guy in an action movie (see below - maybe his twin brother).  He had also been flirting with Witchy Woman earlier in the night.  His adult son was trying to talk him down but no.  He punched the other guy in the face, they scuffled, women and children were screaming including me telling them to shut up because they were ruining the concert, dammit!  

A security guard flashed a light on them and the guy who got punched walked away.  Then two guys with guns who looked like undercover cops showed up and sat next to the bad guy, but didn't do anything and left after a few minutes of shooting the shit with him. Ten minutes later another security officer came to talk to him and he threatened the security officer by screaming in his face "ARE YOU TRYING TO INTIMIDATE ME??" All of a sudden two real cops ran towards him and arrested him.  His wife and adult children just sat there watching him being taken away.  I guess they also didn't want their night ruined.  All jokes aside, here's the Domestic Violence hotline number: 1-800-799-SAFE.

The show went on and was incredible.  We stayed until the end and what should have been a 30 minute drive home ended up taking 3 hours.  They were doing construction on the Golden Gate Bridge and apparently forgot to look up the 100,000 person concert that night that would inevitably require more than one lane to be open.  In between falling asleep at the wheel and listening to an Oprah podcast and the Eagles greatest hits my mom and I wondered who was going to bail crazy pants out of jail that night.  Perhaps Witchy Woman.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Ferris Bueller Should've Taken More Days Off

Chicago is awesome! I just spent a week there for work and then pleasure. The last time I had been there was 9 years ago in a blizzard. As a Californian I had never experienced such bone chilling temperatures. When I walked out of my hotel tears sprung from my face from the chill and froze onto my cheeks. I ran into a Starbucks not understanding what was happening to my body.  I peeled the frozen tears from my face, makeup coming off with them and when I assured the lady behind the register I hadn't been crying she said "oh yeah, that's a thing here in the winter".  

This trip's temp was much more tolerable.  I was in town to speak at my company's conference which was incredibly terrifying. On my flight out there I was practicing my speech by mouthing my memorized words to the seat head in front of me, much to the fear of the woman seated next to me.  You really don't want the person next to you looking crazy when you're 30,000 feet in the air. I get it.  

The morning of the event my boss told me she had had a dream that I had an eyeball infection and her eyeball popped out of its socket. She asked me to look up the meaning of it all.  That's one way to set someone up for a successful public speaking engagement.

I was cool, calm and collected up until right before I went on stage and then I had an out of body experience.  I am 98% sure that the mic was picking up my racing heartbeat and not so much the words coming out of my mouth.  I had to act like I was not about to pass out for a full 45 minutes up there but I've been told it went well and I can keep my job so that's great!  

I ate a lot of Amish chicken dinners when I was there. I wasn't aware that the Amish were in the chicken game but holy moly that was some of the tastiest meat I have ever had.  Eat here and order the Mediterranean Roast Chicken. It will change your life, which is what I needed right after a falling down drunk man ran into my hotel elevator, demanded that I let him buy me dinner and then stepped on the heel of my favorite shoes.  Thankfully the elevator door opened right after and I quickly exited saying "No thank you, bye!!!" He ran after me "Really, you're turning me down?" I think he saw double and was after a twin fantasy. Fortunately I can run in those favorite heels. After half a block I knew I had lost him and I stepped into the restaurant, holding a door for two elderly women who announced to me "I want to eat some tiny weenies!".  Ok then.

I had to get on a chat with Verizon one evening and this Taylor pretty much melted my heart.

Today I had to deal with another Verizon issue and either Taylor is my assigned customer service agent and new boyfriend (or girlfriend) or everyone at Verizon is named "Taylor".

I went to see Hamilton with a few of my coworkers which was AMAZING! I highly recommend it.  What I also recommend is Googling who the heck Hamilton was before you see the play.  Ten minutes in I realized I had no idea what this was all about.  Was he a President? Was he even a real person? Did I learn about him in history class? How did I graduate college, let alone 6th grade? At intermission we all admitted we had no idea who he was so spent the next ten minutes ferociously looking up his story. Turns out he was a real person and did some cool stuff.  Except for cheating on his wife.  And having a thing her sister. And being a workaholic.

Definitely take this architectural boat tour and pray that Pitbull is also your captain.  He kept us safe and sexy.

This was one of the most amazing art museums I've been to.  They had all the amazing paintings you'd want to see - Monet, Van Gogh, Warhol, Renoir, Pollock, and this, which I was naturally drawn to.

My coworkers and I also went to a comedy club, amateur style.  It was also a deep dish pizza restaurant that turned into a comedy show late night and I ended up front and center of the stage.  There were a lot of vagina jokes and every time the comic told one, he stared right at me as if he had seen my vagina and was judging it.  But I smiled and fake laughed as a sign of solidarity for the sheer stupidity fearlessness it takes to be on stage.

I was so energized after our night out that I walked back to my hotel alone at midnight feeling totally safe.  And like I wanted to break out into song and dance. And then I remembered this guy did that right down the street from where I was and it all made sense.  

Like Ferris said, life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.  

[iworeheelsforthis]

Bread & Breakfast

I decided to stay in my college town the summer between my sophomore and junior year.  A girlfriend of mine and I rented an adorable 2 bedroom/2 bath apartment with a $700/month total summer rent deal - it came equipped with a gym, pool and free use of a tanning bed (an Oregon specialty that I now steer clear of).  Sold!  

I landed an internship at a news radio station which was a dream since I had just decided to become a Journalism major.  What was also a dream is the fact that I was basically still asleep on my drive to that internship every morning because start time was 5am.  I cannot even count the number of red lights I accidentally drove through that summer.

After my morning shift I would drive back to the apartment, make myself lunch and then head to my job at an adorable bed & breakfast that my parents had stayed at many times while visiting me for parents weekends.  It was owned by an elderly woman who terrified me.  On my first day she screamed at me for wearing jeans. I was so confused - my pants were a pale blue color, but definitely not jeans.  She only wore bathrobes so I could understand how any sort of 2001 era "fashion" befuddled her.  She demanded that I never disrespect her like this again and then asked other staff members (i.e. the gardener and cook) if I was lying that my pants were not jeans while I embarrassingly stood there being judged.  All this for $6.50/hr.  What a DREAM job.  

My job was to check people in, give them tours of the property, bring out scones and teas, make sure rooms had been cleaned by the maid, clean up my boss's dog shit, make sure no one was having sex in the hot tub and be a general cheery innkeeper of sorts.  I was also tasked with choosing and playing music over surround sound and into people's rooms from a choice of 5 CDs.  All Enya.  Every time I hear Enya now I think of that summer, for better or worse.  Sail away, sail away, sail awayayayyyy.

On one particularly fun weekend, my boss let me know her husband was in town. I had no idea she was even married. I assumed being the escalated age that she was she had been widowed, but no no he just lived in a faraway land and came into town every now and then.  

And into town he came. If you ever want your ears to bleed, listen to your mean old woman boss and her old man husband have rampant sex right above your workspace, over and over again all afternoon and night long.  And guess who I did find naked in the hot tub - them.  

The next day when I arrived back onsite she barreled into the kitchen where I was sneaking a glass of lemonade and demanded that I run to the pharmacy for her.  Ok, I guess personal errands are a new part of the job? But without questioning it and heading out of the kitchen to get my car keys she launched into what a raging yeast infection she had succumbed to after having had such a dry vagina and not having had sex in such a long time.  "Oh no no that's ok, you don't need to share," I shouted back when sprinting out of the bed and breakfast.

Dry heaving in my car with Enya flooding my thoughts I knew that even though I was only 19, this was no sort of way to be making a living. Once classes started back up I quit that job met with her screaming at me for lying about this only being a summer job and then worked my ass off in school to make sure I never had to work for a yeasty boss bitch again. At least not for $6.50 an hour.  I now charge much more to be treated like shit.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Bad Boss

Have you ever had a boss you despised so much that you could picture yourself walking into work, shouting expletives in their face whilst spitting a little, quitting on the spot and walking away not knowing what the hell your next career move would be?  Yeah, me neither.  But I have had the worst bosses.  The worst.  

I'm currently dealing with a nightmare of an insecure manager who simply cannot help projecting her insecurities onto her team.  My favorite comments she has made to me include: "I wish I had your body."  Creepy. Stop. "Everyone on this team needs to be on the Keto diet because I am." Pretty sure trying to create a diet cult amongst your subordinates is frowned upon. "Look at my adorable kids in this video/photo/collage" every single day, all day while she nonstop posts on Facebook and Instagram to see how many likes can maybe distract her from her loveless marriage to a much younger, very unattractive asshole who is consistently unemployed, and coming in to join her for free lunch at our office weekly, whose MBA she paid for and oh, he also didn't pay for her engagement or wedding ring.  And dear God, why does she share all of this information with us?! "You need to be physically in the office longer hours" because I don't have kids - that literally happened 2 weeks ago.

She's not my worst boss though, I don't think. I have had a string of potential lawsuit-tempting managers.  They include: - The raging alcoholic who double fired me with a coworker on a conference call. We were the top performers in the office. She was charging a private plane to the company card on the regular. Mind you the company was in the red so it was kind of a problem.   - The boss before her at the same company who sexually harassed me and my female coworkers all the time, but it was just because he was blackout drunk so it didn't count, according to him.

- The Mormon boss who tried to convert me on the regular.  So much propaganda! - The girl who landed a job as my new boss out of Abercrombie & Fitch retail (as in spraying cologne in people's faces as you walked through the door) and tried to get rid of me because she knew I was onto her incompetence.  It turns out she was munching the carpet of her female boss. Nom nom nom. - The guy who was doing coke in the bathroom all day and required fans to be blowing on him at all angles to cool his body temp down.  How about doing less coke? It's the winter and we're freezing.

- The other guy at that company who was fucking every single female employee and some rumored males.  He made passes at me nonstop until he met my very tall and angry boyfriend. - The woman who was obsessed with Snapchat since her teenagers taught her how to use it and told me she could only communicate to me through said Snapchat.  "Did you get my snap?" Um no, I don't snap, crackle or pop bitch.

- The boss who called me a FUCKING MORON every day I went into work and had a complete verbal aneurism on me on my 24th birthday, which is the reason I haven't worked on my birthday every year since then.  He had a meth overdose 3 months after I was fired for telling on him to HR, but survived.  

- The cross eyed bitch who worked in another office and would AIM message me (old school days!) every 15 minutes asking what I was doing. If I went to grab lunch or go to the bathroom she went into a tizzy that I didn't respond right back and demanded to know what funny business I was up to. Urination is kind of funny, I guess. - The OTHER cross eyed bitch before her who was married to a gay man and in denial about it, best friends with Fran Drescher, and tried having me write business proposals for movie studios for her until midnight as her new 22 year old employee making $24K/year so she could go out on the town. She fired me when I asked to move desks out from under a vent that was blowing mold onto me and making me quite ill over a several month period.  

The moral of the story is I am looking to going back to being my own boss, and I'm excited scared/pensive/insane.  At least if I get harassed it will be by me to me. And that's about the damn sexiest thing.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Melrose Place East

“That’s your granddaughter?” I heard a man asking my grandma as I dozed in and out of a nap on the beach at her condo complex. “Did I ever date her?” “No, you’re a little old for her”, my grandma replied with a chuckle. “Well in about a year she’ll be too old for me.” Who the heck was talking about me? I opened my eyes still pretending to be asleep to find a man with Danny Devito’s stature as the Penguin in Batman ogling my half naked body.

It was the second to last day of my trip visiting my grandma at her New England beachside summer home. I know that sounds really snotty. She’s lived in this condo complex since 1976 that I’ve now dubbed Melrose Place East. As a teenager I loved the salacious Melrose Place evening soap opera that would play after Beverly Hills 90210. It featured a real bitch played by Heather Locklear and everyone who lived in the Melrose Place complex had no shortage of drama - everything from baby kidnapping to the apartment building exploding, but mostly just a lot of inner complex affairs.

My first knowledge of this real life complex cultivating drama started when my grandma introduced her next door neighbor, my dad, to my mom. He was 30, single, cute and always inviting himself over to my grandma’s place for dinner. My mom came home to visit when she was 21 and was told she just had to meet this adorable neighbor. “Oh jeez, mom,” she thought. She walked into the living room to find a tall, dark and handsome man in a suit with a big smile. She knew within 4 days that she would marry him, after he pushed her against the fridge for their first kiss. But their life together didn’t start then. My mom went back to finish her senior year of college and my dad was a handsome guy with needs so he started dating Anne, a woman I have been told always wore a blue bandana and once threatened my mom to stay away from her boyfriend. Anne moved in with my dad and when my mom would come home to visit her mom, the pain was palpable. She would see my dad and Anne together and would be devastated. When she graduated she moved in with my grandma. One day my dad called the house and when my mom answered she told him to never call again, she thought he was going to marry Anne. He responded with “If I’m going to marry anyone it’s going to be you.” My mom fell off the counter and then moved in with him shortly after. Sayonara, Anne!

Decades later I found myself in a short lived relationship with the son of a couple who live at Melrose Place East, set up by my mom and grandma. Because how cute would it be if I also ended up with the guy next door? It wasn’t cute. While I loved his family and would have been thrilled to have been flung into the yacht club, frequent boating, ski trips at the family cabin, family tennis and golf and no shortage-of-wine kind of life, no amount of money could have kept me with a man who would fire off 237 unrelated questions in a row, gain and lose 40+ pounds between winter and summer, and force me to watch him play 8 uninterrupted hours of tennis on my birthday in 100 degree humid weather.

A few years after that failed, my mom and grandma tried to make up for their boyfriend miscasting by setting me up with yet another son of a resident. He was newly divorced and living near me in California. The date was such a bust that I wrote an entire blog post about it here. When I saw his mother on the beach during this recent visit she felt the need to tell me about his engagement. And I refrained from telling her about his affinity for psychedelic drugs.

Taking us up to present day, there’s still a decent amount of Melrose Place East drama. First, we have an older couple who’ve been living together for years but he’s kicking her out of the condo. She nursed him back to health after he couldn’t bend his knees for a few months and he thanked her by showing her the door. He also thanked her by taking her name off the business they started together, but they still spend time on the beach with one another. Either she’s the most forgiving, albeit weak, woman alive or she does what I tend to do, which is make the man believe that it’s his idea to break things off all while scheming to end the relationship somehow.

We have another guy dating the daughter of a older resident, but she gave him an ultimatum to settle down with her, so he’s spending a lot of time alone right now. Apparently one of her kids is a drug addict and he doesn’t want to marry into that. He goes off and sails around the world for six months at a time, a type of relationship I would personally enjoy. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

Then we have the gem of all gems. This weaselly mid-life crisis character who told his long time wife, with whom he has children, to lose 30 pounds or he would leave her. He said he was embarrassed to be seen with her. She lost the weight and he still had an affair with someone skinnier. “You’re going to go with that c&*#t?!” the wife screamed from the balcony at him for all the neighbors to witness. Now the skinnier woman has left him, his kids don’t speak to him, and he is left to kayak alone. Like Heather Locklear in Melrose Place, karma is a real bitch.

[iworeheelsforthis]

Utah or Bust

6am flights are not for the weak but I woke up before my 3am alarm clock, ready to go. As I nestled into my seat, a flamboyant male flight attendant barreled down the aisle screaming. I’m pretty sure that’s who is supposed to remain calm on a flight. A mouse had boarded the plane and it took no less than 7 people to capture it before we could take off late. Normally this wouldn’t bother me but I had a 45 minute layover and time was already cutting close. After enduring a tense flight with a pungent farter seated in front of me, I sprinted to the next gate like the airport scene in Home Alone, about a mile away.

After having the run of my life (which says a lot since I was on the cross country team) I arrived at my gate 8 minutes until departure but they closed the doors and wouldn’t let me on. I was panting like a dog in heat and spent the next hour coughing like a chain smoker, right after I ran to the bathroom to cry in a stall from sheer frustration because I hate running so much. But I met some lovely people at the airport bar over the next four hours as I awaited the next flight. A man who blasted Def Leppard on his phone whilst drinking a rum/gin/vodka/tequila drink concoction that he came up with himself. Because who the hell would put that on a drink menu? No one. A bartender who laughed profusely when I told him about the mouse plane situation and suggested maybe it was a therapy mouse. A girl who was reluctantly and drunkenly about to board a flight to her brothers wedding. A woman from Cuba who loves San Francisco and said Oakland is the pits even though her family lives there. And all before 11am.

When I travel I always like to check out the guys in the city I’m visiting on dating apps. Salt Lake City has some fine looking men. Most take it upon themselves to define if they’re Mormon or not in their profile. A lot of them look like single dads, likely married at 19, newly divorced and now banned from the church. From one cult escapee to another, I appreciate it.

6 hours later I finally arrived in St. George, Utah.  The place I was staying was basically an adult summer camp and everything you wanted was available at the tip of your fingers via a texting concierge.  Do you want dinner reservations at the restaurant at 5:45pm? No problem. Feeling like a 9pm massage and then do you feel like sprinting back to your room after your massage because of the howling coyotes eating their prey within feet of you? You're all set.  Are you up for a group hike in 105 degree temperatures where you're led through Mars-like terrain? See you there!  Seriously, it was the best place ever and I never wanted to leave.

I made a friend, of the male variety, shortly after arriving.  He sent me a drink during dinner the first night, then seemingly avoided me for the rest of meal from across the pergola (HGTV term - see below). 

Then on day two we got to know each other on a pretty intense hike through caves and canyons.  That afternoon I took a water aerobics class and I am pretty sure he recorded the entire thing on his phone, trying to pretend he was texting. Because what red blooded American male wouldn’t film women jumping up and down in a pool if he could? I don’t blame him.

What's interesting when you go to an activities focused resort is the level of people’s confidence in their own level of fitness. I went to Zion National Park (which was AMAZING) and there was a family of 5 in my group. As soon as we arrived the dad had to be taken back to the hotel an hour away, for blood pressure issues. Then the mom struggled the entire hike from her arthritis and had to nearly be hospitalized at the end.  She held us up in 104 degree direct sunlight for an additional 45 minutes.  Not cool, Susan!

What was cool for one nerdy adult couple on that hike was that this must have been the most romantic place they had ever been.  They were fully making out on the embankment, glasses smashing into each other, grabbing each other’s crotches in front of everyone to see, young and old.  

On another hike a woman caused us to be out in the sweaty desert for an additional 30 min and tried laughing it off with “I need more electrolytes haha!” Nah, you just need to work on your fitness. But good for them for trying. Or something.

I always thought Canadians were sweethearts.  Until I met a group of them on two of my hikes.  On one hike where it looked like we were either walking on the moon, or a huge elephant, I was behind the one who fell out of the Hot Tub Time Machine movie with neon sunglasses from 1988 and she shouted at me out of nowhere.  “I prefer you go in front of me!” Then she wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the hike. Mmmkay, then.

Then on another hike I was holding a tree branch for her friend so it wouldn't whip her in the face and she screamed at me to "Let it go! I will handle it!"  What in the actual fuck, lady?

Something was in the air that day because as our group was walking on the side of the road, not in the road, to go find the mis-parked van we were supposed to drive back in, a biker woman started screaming at us that it was her right of way and then shouted a bunch of expletives.  She stopped her bike and called the park rangers to demand they arrest us. So yeah, cyclists are crazy no matter where you are.

My favorite random character was a man named Kelly who the women dubbed Rum Kelly.  He was offering rum to every woman he could talk to, at all hours of the day, including breakfast and before yoga classes. On his final night, he had a hot tub rum party.  I was very sad to miss it.

After 5 days of true bliss (regardless of the crazies because crazies are everywhere), I flew back through Salt Lake City where I nearly missed my connection again. But damn, I'm getting good at 6 minute miles!  

[iworeheelsforthis]

Cult Camp

Being raised as a Christian Scientist always felt a little weird. Have the flu? Well, sickness doesn't exist in that religion.  And whatever you think you have, you're expected to "pray it away" - the concept is similar to “mind over matter”, just slightly different.  Fortunately my parents were "Christian Science Lite" as we liked to call it.  When I felt under the weather my mom would give me the option of working with a Christian Science practitioner who would pray for me, or go to the doctor.  I remember usually picking the doctor.  

I do believe Christian Science (CS) is a cult "lite".  And I'm writing this while having a drink, therefore still rebelling against the anti-drinking, anti-healthcare, anti-feelings church that I was a part of until my final revolt (that sounds way more dramatic than it actually was) at age 15.

When I was nine one of our CS neighbors basically brainwashed me into thinking that I had to go to a CS sleep-away camp in Maine.  Maine is 3,000 miles away and I had a hard time not calling my mom in the middle of the night to pick me up from sleep overs at my friend Emily's house.  Emily lived 2 miles away.  The neighbor had me watch a propaganda video that the camp put together - the Flashdance song (which to this day gives me PTSD when I hear it because of this) played in the background while happy children were filmed doing all sorts of activities like water skiing, archery, dancing, canoeing, and so much more.

Hey, I like activities as much as the next person, but in my gut I knew this was not going to be a good choice for me. The neighbor woman kept telling me how much fun I would have and that I would be missing out if I didn't go - she just would not relent.  So I obliged.  I knew it would make my dad happy, who was raised as a Christian Scientist, and was himself forced to go to a different CS sleep-away camp as a child.  Years later I found out he had been knocked unconscious for 48 hours and no one called his parents. Because apparently comas don't exist in this cult, either.  

My dad flew me back East in June and we stayed with his parents in Massachusetts for the night. I called my mom when we arrived to declare that grandma and grandpa were blasting the heat.  She informed me that was called humidity.  Uh oh.  3 weeks of humidity and 3,000 miles away.  Panic set in but I was still in the safety of my family.

The next morning my dad and I drove to Maine where he dropped me off at camp. We were shown all around and he was trying to pump me up, even though I could see his eyes getting misty at the thought of leaving his 4th grader with strangers for an extended period of time.  I knew no one there, and knew instantly I was homesick.  It was the first time I can remember really feeling terrified and deeply sad inside.  As an adult, I experienced this feeling again while dating a myriad of different men.

Did I mention I had to wear a uniform?  To add insult to injury, I had to don pleated high rise khaki shorts, the camp t-shirt tucked in and white socks and sneakers.  Every. Day.

This is also the summer I discovered that I apparently have some special type of blood that mosquitoes are drawn to.  I came home with over 150 bites. I counted them.

As my dad drove away, I had this feeling I would never see him again. This cult would somehow keep me forever.  I went to bed that night sobbing into my pillow which again, is something I would do later in life because of my choices in men, so I guess this was good practice inside the screen windowed cabin surrounded by 15 other nine year olds. What had I gotten myself into?

Well let me tell you what I got myself into:

Child labor - every Sunday we had to clean the entire camp, which was on acres of land.  So there we were for the entire day after church in our pleated uniforms sweeping the tennis courts, scrubbing toilets, mopping floors, dusting screen doors, and sweeping the actual ground of pine needles.  I think this led me to truly appreciating having a cleaning lady as an adult.   If we cleaned everything well enough, we were awarded with the only sugar allotted for the week - one candy bar and one soda. Nothing since then has tasted as good as those things did.  

Unbearable homesickness - I had a recurring dream every night where my mom flew out to rescue me, never to return to this horrible place.  

One shower a week - even as a kid I liked to shower once a day minimum.  We were shvitzing in the heat so you'd think they'd want us cleaner than that.

Neglect - "You're sad?" "You can't be sad because God is all around and he is your father and mother."  Yes, in a cult-y voice, too. "You don't feel well?" "That's error talking.  Get thee behind me, error."  I literally though Error was a person for most of my childhood.  

Being forced to swim at 7am every morning in the frigid lake without goggles but with many dead floating fish all around.  Where were the fun activities from the video?!

But the worst of it was that we had to read the Bible and Science & Health (the CS book that interprets the Bible in its own cult way) every single day, sometimes twice a day.  In the heat and humidity of our cabin.  We had to take notes and talk about it.  We had to pray.  You can bet your bottom dollar that the day we had an outing outside the camp grounds, I was praying the car going by on the main road would pick me up and kidnap me.  

Fun times, indeed!  I somehow survived those 3 weeks.  They felt like 3 years at an internment camp.  My grandma came to pick me up one Saturday and my feeling of liberation that day has not been matched since.  Finally, I was safe and going home.  

When we got onto our flight to California, I sat in the United seat which was soaked in urine.  Someone on the flight before me had just peed all through the seat material.  And still, I was as happy as a clam to be away from cult camp covered in someone else's urine.  

You may think that because of my horrible experience, I was never forced to go back to camp.  Not the case.  I was forced to go back to that one 2 more times and another cult camp in Colorado twice, up until I was 15 years old.  After I almost drowned on a rafting expedition and was not allowed to tell my parents, and then when a horse bucked me off and fell on me and I couldn't walk for two days, is when I drew the line on this ridiculous religion, never to look back.  

[iworeheelsforthis]

Foot Job

As a recruiter who writes articles and does YouTube series on the subject, I take the whole job search and interviewing thing pretty seriously.  I mean, I have to.

6 years ago I was approached by a company in LA that wanted to recruit me to work for them down there.  I was hesitant at the thought of relocating back to Southern California but agreed to meet them.  I flew down one morning and the hiring manager picked me up in her car at the airport, which I thought was a little personal odd.  We were supposed to head to the office so I could interview there, see the space and meet the other team members.  Instead she told me that they actually had to fire the person I would be replacing and since that person was in the office we had to avoid it at all costs.  I'm not sure how she expected me to take a job offer and relocate without seeing the office or meeting anyone else, but I obliged.  After killing time at Starbucks, she told me how their company was in a lawsuit with a woman who, not only was someone I was planning to go into business with several years earlier, but had also stolen my business plan and financials in the process (small world shit!). We then headed to a fancy lunch in Beverly Hills where we met the CEO of the company who reminded me of Harvey Weinstein, looks and personality-wise.  Barf!

After lunch, since I had no one else to meet, my potential future boss asked if I wanted to go get a pedicure with her since we had time to kill before my flight home.  Um, ok? I love pedicures but baring my tootsies on a first date interview seemed forward.  Once I had my feet in the foot bath, one of the ladies came over to inspect my situation.  She insisted that I get the extra dead skin pedicure, looking in near horror at my somewhat callused feet.  My eyes were as wide as saucers from embarrassment - I didn't want my new boss to judge me based on the amount of dead skin I was walking around on.  I just blurted out "yeah, oh sure sure do what you gotta do" and tried to quickly change the subject.  

When my future boss went to pay for our pedis that she was expensing to the company, she was told mine was 30% more than her regular one because of the extra work they had to do on me.  Ok, we get it!

I had flown down in a suit and close-toed heels, so had to wear their paper flip flops home, all while trying to be taken seriously by the future boss as we walked down the street and she dropped me off at the airport with bright yellow flippers on my feet. I made it halfway through the security line before one of them disintegrated. So I had to walk through the Burbank airport, sit on my flight, traipse through the Oakland airport and a cab ride home with one yellow paper flip flop and one bare foot.  People looked at me with disgust.  I could basically feel the 10,000 footsteps that had touched the ground before me that day.  

When I got home I immediately jumped into the shower and was scrubbing my feet furiously with soap and shampoo and a loofah and more soap.  I soaped both my feet up at the same time, slipped and fell out of my shower onto my toilet where my back broke the toilet seat right off its hinges.  

Naked on my bathroom floor, I looked up at the ceiling wondering if I could safely bleach my feet and knew that the events of the day had all signs pointing to me not being a fit for that job.  

When I declined their offer, the woman was really upset with me.  "But I took you to get a pedicure!!"  So awkward.  Even more awkward is that she now works for a different staffing agency and calls my cell phone asking to partner with my company on positions we're trying to fill.  It got so over the top with her weekly calls, I had to block her number. Every time my blocked voicemail box fills up, I am reminded that I made the right decision not to work for her all those years ago.  And I always bring flip flops.