everything is coming up roses

I am violently opposed to roses.

Two thousand years ago I had a blind date who showed up at my front door with a single red rose. I recognized it as a sweet, albeit clichéd gesture and then challenged him to a duel. Well, that’s what I did on the inside. Momma didn’t raise no rude fool, so I thanked him and felt guilty for wanting to get combative with him. I mean, I couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing I wasn’t a single-red-rose-type-of-girl.

(If “The Bachelor” ever gave me a rose, I would throw it on the ground and jump up and down on it while simultaneously laughing my head off. This will make good TV. Wait. Why am I on “The Bachelor”?? Let me speak to my agent…)

My blind date proceeded to take me to a Kenny G concert, which didn’t help his cause. Perhaps this is what soured me even more on roses. And blind dates.

One time, my ex returned from a backpacking trip with a small bunch of wilted wildflowers that he picked for me. I thought this was incredibly romantic, thus cementing the idea that every man should have the time and inclination to do this. However, there was this other time when he gave me a bouquet of roses the day after he was kinda horrible to me. Strike two, Roses.

But this spring, they’re everywhere. The damn things are haltingly beautiful and incredibly photogenic.

A good friend of mine has been growing a variety of roses and I looked at them with a new appreciation.

pink thorns

those thorns…

pink

this one is hypnotizing…it asked for my credit card and I immediately handed it over…

I still feel like stomping on that perfect, fragrance-less, long-stemmed rose. I still want wildflowers. But the beauty of the garden rose cannot be denied. I know you don’t need more convincing, but I’m going to leave you with Cherry Parfait (below). Stunned? Thought so.

By the way, can I borrow your credit card?

cherry parfait

 

The List

Every so often, I come up with a list of characteristics that are important to me in a future relationship. These lists are often influenced by the previous guy I’ve been with or after I’ve witnessed some random man behavior. Once I make a list, I let it go. I don’t know the specific science behind it; I think it travels out into the universe and weaves its way into the space-time continuum. Yeah. That sounds right.

I made my very first list a few years ago after my long-term relationship ended. It was a hefty list. It weighed a ton. My last list, which was relatively straight-forward and short, described PYP to a tee. I didn’t realize it until I revisited that particular one. It’s a good example of a list coming to life and a reminder that even when a list is fulfilled, it doesn’t mean I will be.

As of today it’s been simplified:

A grown-ass man who is kind, loving and funny.

Needless to say, chemistry is very important. I can’t explain the science behind this, either – something about pheromones and juju – so I am providing examples and reasons having nothing to do with their looks (I’m forced to do this on my blog because Amazon.com doesn’t allow for a wish list for human beings. Seriously? It’s 2014!!):

Lenny Kravitz (sexy, musical)

Lenny Kravitz (sexy, musical)

Jim Halpert (sweet, funny)

Jim Halpert (sweet, funny)

John Krasinski (funny, sweet)

John Krasinski (funny, sweet)

Ryan Gosling (down-to-earth, funny. unfortunately, incredibly ugly. turns my stomach)

Ryan Gosling (down-to-earth, dry sense of humor. unfortunately, incredibly ugly. turns my stomach.)

Chris Cosentino, Executive Chef at Incanto (quirky, passionate culinarian - it's a word)

Chris Cosentino, Executive Chef at Incanto (quirky, passionate culinarian)

Hugh Jackman (gentleman, family man)

Hugh Jackman (gentleman, family man. needs to take more care of his body, though. just my two cents.)

Javier Bardem (charming, Spanish good 'ole boy. Despite his many intense, creepy acting roles, he is hilarious)

Javier Bardem (charming, Spanish good ‘ole boy. despite his many intense, creepy acting roles, he is hilarious on talk shows.)

Jimmy Fallon (plays in the moment)

Jimmy Fallon (plays in the moment)

There. It’s out in the universe now. Fly, list, fly…where and when you land is anybody’s guess. I have to move along now. There is much to train for in 2014…

A Squishable Man

I happened to notice that Joe Manganiello has a very defined, well-formed physique.

I thought having an eight-pack was physically impossible, but according to Google images, it’s not. As much as I appreciate Joe’s physicality, I think hugging him would be like hugging a brick wall. I suppose you have to decide for yourself if the brick burn would be worth it.

That’s why I was doing a Google image search. I wanted to see if he was always made out of bricks.

Yes, sometimes I spend my evenings doing intensive research like this. What of it?

And if I’m such a thorough researcher, where’s the image of him, you ask? Well, I didn’t want to exploit him more than he already has been. The guy is more than his muscles, right…??

Anyways, I discovered that I couldn’t find an everyday, average body on the guy. He wasn’t always so sculpted, but apparently, he has always been…healthy.

I actually prefer a man with a little bit of squish to him.

I’ve talked about the subject of hugging before. Wine Guy was a 9 out of 10. Yes, he disappeared on me, but I still have to give him his props. But he wasn’t a perfect 10. That score goes to a guy I met briefly at a dinner party, years ago. I almost forgot about him. When we hugged goodbye, I discovered that his whole body was made out of memory foam.

Ah…

I have no idea what made him that way. He was deceptively normal looking.

“He was so soft…” I remarked to my then-boyfriend, who strangely enough, had nothing to say in response. Nor did he have anything to say about my hand gestures as I tried to further describe the guy’s squishiness.

The only things Perfect Hug Guy and Wine Guy had in common were their average weight for their height (about 5’7″) and that they probably didn’t work out at all.

Hm.

This may warrant some further intensive research.

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Postscript: It has come to my attention that I have been spending way too much energy wondering about the location and appearance of my future man/men. The fact is, there is no telling when he/they will show up. A gentle nudging from my friend Mae woke me up. It’s a good thing, too – disappointment was beginning to chip away at me.

So I’m redirecting my energy towards the here and now and giving nonexistent men a rest. I have more pressing issues to deal with anyways, like finding a new job, so from now on, my future posts won’t be about me getting impatient for that guy who is running super late.

I guess he’ll just have to catch up to me.

Love on the Pretzel Train

Because I never really dated that much in the past, I was looking forward to finding out what it was going to be like. I joked about wanting to juggle men. I pictured myself being cool, casual, carefree. “Date like a man” my friend Neal told me. But I’ve started to notice that I’m looking for that connection, that recognition of oh, hello…yesI feel what’s possible with you. Does that happen? Is that too much to ask? Maybe all those romantic, meet-cute comedies I used to watch have twisted my brain into an over-salted, unrealistic pretzel.

I’m not looking for the perfect, fantasy man. I know he doesn’t exist. At my high school reunion, one of my former classmates nodded knowingly when I shared that strange men tend to be attracted to me. “I hear ya,” She said. “But it only takes one.” He could be anywhere. Mae, is it true? Could he be with another woman right now? Take your hands off my future man, you hussy!!

I only want to discover the one who is perfect for me and I for them. It’s possible, right? Or am I on the Pretzel Train and every stop is SingleTown?

It’s also possible that I could drop dead tomorrow. Or the next day. I would be dead without ever having found love again. That pisses me off. But if I’m dead, I won’t know how to get upset – I won’t even know I’m dead, so I guess it’s a moot point.

Life doesn’t follow a straight line (like this post), so I have no idea what it has in store for me. Before I don’t know I’m dead, I would like to accomplish the following things this year and the next:

1) find a new job
2) move
3) travel to Italy and/or Spain
4) keep

— my mom just informed me that my face looks really round: “You look round here [cups her cheeks with her palms]. I wonder why…you exercise enough. Maybe I just don’t look at your face that often.”

1) move
2) exercise more
3) find a job that keeps me moving
4) travel
5) continue to date
6) continue being open to possibility
7) keep…keep what?? (I have no clue what I was about to write.) keep on truckin’? keep my head up, my spirits high and hope to love again before I die?

That train stop at my reunion must have done a number on me.  I thought I had chased away the dark clouds that my mom the inner critic brought in a few days ago, but some of them still linger.

Next stop?

Not sure. Think I need to catch that transfer out of CheekFat Town, so I’d better start running.

The Chihuahua Effect

I didn’t expect to get picked up during my double date last weekend.

And then he literally lifted me straight off the ground and pretended to abduct me into a windowless van.

This happens every so often – the lifting part, that is. Not a very dignified thing to happen at my age, unless you count the time I needed to be carried across a rushing river.  But that was based on survival.

The Librarian wasn’t the one who picked me up – it was the husband-portion of the double-date. He totally upstaged The Librarian with his enthusiastic, open personality. I’m friends with his wife, but this is only the second time I’ve met him – the first time being very brief. He hugged me after I joked about my personal space, he lifted me up, and in general, he seemed to like me a lot. My friend was nonplussed. My own biased opinion is that I believe other women find me completely non-threatening. You can totally trust me with your husband or boyfriend. Seriously. Hand him over.

Why do I sound so creepy? I might as well have a windowless van, too.

Before you think what you’re thinking, I have to explain that The Husband’s reaction towards me is what I call the “Chihuahua Effect”. I never had a term for it before, but it seems fitting since I seem to like referring to Chihuahuas. If for some reason you think they’re cute, and they do something you think is cute, as in: “Did you see the Chihuahua? She has an underbite!  Haha! That’s so cute – I gotta take a picture of her!”, then the Chihuahua Effect is taking place.

I don’t know why I can’t find a single man that I find attractive to react this way. I wouldn’t have to work so hard. I’d simply flash my underbite at him and I’d be golden.