The Nose Knows
I think I have a boyfriend.
One would think this would leave me overjoyed, but I’m petrified. I know that I talk about it endlessly, that I should be thrilled my “If you build it, he will come” year is finally seeing success, but I can’t help it. I’m totally freaked out.
I need to slow the train down. He’s all in already, and I’m still dipping my toe in the handyman pool. Why does it always have to be all or nothing with me? This guy is definitely into me. He calls every day, brings me coffee, cooked me dinner (and started a fire in my new kitchen) and wait for it, made me a mix CD! I didn’t know people still did that! Gotta admit – that move I loved.
But why can’t it be a normal slow progression, where you have a make-out session and then you don’t see him for a week and you wonder if he still likes you and you get crazy neurotic waiting by the phone? I like that part!
Instead, I have an insta-boyfriend. So let’s weigh the pros and cons.
I must say, The Handyman is pretty hot. He’s tall enough; he’s got really pretty blue eyes, and great dimples. When he’s got two days of salt and pepper scruff he’s downright sexy. But he’s older – a lot older than I thought – and he’s got old man nose hair and a pot belly. The belly doesn’t really bother me, because who am I to judge, but the nose hair – I just can’t take it. I want to sleep with the guy just so I can cut it when he’s passed out. So pro, dreamy blue eyes, dimples and salt-and-pepper scruff. Con, old man nose hair.
Which brings up the pros and cons of… old man. He’s 16 years older than me. Pro, he’s not some dumb asshole who’s going to dump me when he finds something better. This guy is thanking his lucky stars that I like him, and he’s not afraid to show me how thankful he is. Con, he’s 16 years older than me. And so is his nose hair. And so might something else.
He’s never been married and doesn’t have kids. That’s a pro, because he has no baggage, but a con because why the hell hasn’t a guy that old been married?
And perhaps the biggest con of all, which shouldn’t matter in the least, but it does – he doesn’t drink. As in, sober. As in, he goes to three meetings (minimum) a week. Here’s the thing. I don’t have a problem with non-drinkers, or friends of Bill W, I just have a problem when they don’t want me to drink. And as much as they say it doesn’t matter, somewhere down the road it will. And last night I learned what Rule 62 is. I’m not in AA. I don’t need to know the rules. I just need you to pass me the wine so I can refill my glass.
So, where does this leave me? I have a really sweet, wonderful guy who is totally into me. nose hair and soberness aside, he’s smart, funny and thinks I’m the coolest woman he’s ever met. He brings me flowers, cooks me dinner and makes me mix CDs. And in addition to his tool belt, he’s got a black belt, which gives me a built-in bodyguard. And, he likes me.
Do I jump in? Or run away?
Don’t Eat, Pray, Love
Now that the moving and unpacking is over (for the most part), it’s time to get down to business. Time to focus on the big three: mind, body and spirit. Or more precisely put in my world, that would be making money, losing weight, and getting laid.
I think I’m on track for the first one. Fourth quarter looks somewhat promising, and there are new projects on the horizon that could pan out in a big way. I’m choosing to look at the positive rather than the negative, which is quite unlike my usual glass-more-than-half-empty self. I’m not quite sure what has precipitated this change, but I guess I’m feeling a little zen in the new pad. And just like my new living room on a clear morning, the future is bright. Plus, it’s too frightening to think about all the new debt I’ve racked up making this house a home.
Okay, so I didn’t need that 55” flat screen. But it looks so good…
As far as number two goes, I’m thinking one trip to the grocery store will kick that into gear. I have not had food in my refrigerator for a month. It’s been nonstop pizza, Chinese food, Thai food, Italian food and beer – lots of beer – every day. That much take-out and beer is not a good thing for even a 25 year-old. And for 39 year-old me, it’s catastrophic. Even my fat clothes hurt to button. I feel like someone took an air hose, stuck it in my belly button, and inflated. One prick of a needle and (pop) goes the fat girl.
Speaking of pricks… Okay, bad segue. But I think I might have a new love interest, which could really help me with number three. No, it’s not the ex-boyfriend neighbor. (Yes, I took your advice and decided not to go down that path again – aren’t you proud of me?) It’s actually someone new. Wait for it, wait for it… I met him at the hardware store!
And yes, he wears a tool belt – with suspenders.
That old saying that you have to go to a “target-rich environment” is completely true. I have visited the hardware store more in the last few weeks than in the last few years, and let me tell you ladies, you need to go. THAT’S where all the men are! Just don’t go to mine.
Okay, so I know what you’re thinking. Can I actually date a guy in work boots and a tool belt? Chances are he didn’t go to college… Chances are he doesn’t have two nickels to rub together… Chances are his fingernails have never seen a scrub brush and he doesn’t own a suit. Chances are he’s everything my parents would disapprove of. But guess what? I’m not getting any younger. And guess what else? Chances are – he’s NICE.
I could really use a little nice right now. I could use a little simple. (I’m not saying he’s “simple” – for all I know, the guy reads Tolstoy in his spare time. Okay, probably not.) I’m saying simple as in, not complicated. And I think maybe for now, the Handyman (yep, just named him) might come in… handy. And hopefully he’s handSY, because I’m horny.
So far, he’s done three “jobs” for me, and not accepted any money for them. Yesterday I gave him tickets to the ball game as a thank you. And he spotted my big Kitchen Aid mixer on the counter and said, “You bake?”
So far, so good.
Caution: Wet Paint
I know I say time and time again that I’m okay being single, I like being independent and the grass doesn’t always look greener, but there is definitely one time in your life when it is hands down, no question about it, better to be that illustrious “plus-one.”
Because there is nothing to remind you how truly alone you are in the world than when you are moving – by yourself.
You know when you said “moving is one of the most stressful things a person can do” (or something like that)? Well yes, it was stressful, but it also was sad. The process was a reminder that yet again, I am creating a new home – alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love my new place (and especially its perks and my new TV) but here’s what was missing yesterday – someone – ANYONE. Someone to say, “Where should we put the bed?” or “I think the wine glasses should go here so when we have people over they’re right there” or “Here, let me put that up since you can’t reach.”
I had none of that. Instead, I had 3 idiot movers who broke half my stuff and took 10 hours to move a one-bedroom apartment. But even with the stress of that, it was all about the after. After they finally left, I sat on my couch alone, marveling at my awesome TV, and there was no one to share the experience with. Granted, I had shared my day with about 8 men total between the movers, carpenters, phone and TV guys, but there was none of the sinking into the couch, putting your feet up, taking a deep breath and saying, “We did it.” And there definitely wasn’t “new place sex.”
Which leads to a whole other conversation in my brain. When you’re a single girl, and you move to a new place, it’s kind of a clean slate in the man department. You get to wipe the slate clean of your ex-boyfriend who broke up with you in the old place. You get to wipe the slate clean of the stupid one night stand of whom you actually were dumb enough to allow in your home. You get to wipe the slate clean of all the guys over the years who you thought could maybe be the one, and definitely, positively, were not.
So then now it becomes a question of whom? Who will be the person who I “christen” this new home with? I can’t help but be hopeful that the fresh paint and newness of it all will lead to someone new.
My man slate is now clean. Out with the old, in with the new.
The Ex Files
I think I’m dating my ex.
At least it seems like we’re dating. We talk every day. He texts me good morning, emails with news of the day, calls to say goodnight, we see each other a few times a week, and he’s taking my refrigerator when I move. Oh and, we’re not having sex, so it’s pretty much just like our old relationship.
The thing is, I’m not sure I want to date my ex. We were together ten years ago. It didn’t end well. And unfortunately for him, I still remember EVERYTHING. Like how he broke my heart into a million pieces. Like how he made me feel unattractive and unwanted. Like how we were much better as friends. We were great friends. In fact, he was a much better friend than a boyfriend. I think he was more in love with me when he was my friend. We were crazy about each other when we were friends. It was when he fell in love with me that he wasn’t in love with me. Does that make sense?
We were fantastic friends for five years. He was like a best girlfriend, except he could lift really heavy stuff. We talked nonstop every day, we worked out together (come to think of it, he’s really good for that), cooked all our dinners together, and even took trips together. We knew each other’s families, hung out with each other’s friends, and were each other’s shoulder to cry on. And then we dated.
We had an incredible relationship – until we had a relationship.
Suddenly this amazing man was lazy, disinterested, nowhere near as good-looking, and not attracted to me in the least. This amazing man who tried “not” to kiss me 50 times as drunk “friends,” didn’t want to kiss me when he had a free pass. This amazing man who seemed to have a perpetual hard-on that everyone noticed (how could you miss it) when we were friends couldn’t find a sex drive if it were a “dick in a box” given to him as a gift.
You know the saying, “It’s the mystery of it all?” I think it was the mystery of it all. I think after 5 years of being “just friends” he wanted to date me because it was the unsolved mystery. It was 5 years of everyone saying, “You guys really should date. You guys would make a perfect couple. You guys are always together anyway.”
It’s kind of like that book, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” except the title of mine should be, “He’s Just Not That Into You When You’re His Girlfriend.”
When we broke up (or should I say when he dumped me) he made a list of all the things he didn’t like about me. I still have it. So why now? Why 10 years later? Does that mean this time is “it?” Do I want this time to be it? Or does he just want to be friends again? Do I want to be friends again? I guess at some point he’ll tell me. Or his penis will.
Oh, and I still do #1 on the list.
Handy-capped
Many years ago, way before our time, a British invasion group called Herman’s Hermits had a smash hit song called, “I’m Into Something Good.” It’s still one of the greatest songs of all time. It’s basically a guy’s version of meeting a really cool chick and feeling, right away that he’s into “something good.” Fast forward forty-something years and you just met a guy who, at the very least, might be something good. You’re not exactly dancing your ass off about it, but that’s probably a good thing. You’re not sprinting in the other direction either. That’s probably a good thing too.
I’m torn… The romantic side of me wants to hear you humming that Herman’s Hermits song to yourself. The “real me,” has already begun to make funeral arrangements for this “handy” new relationship of yours. Contrary to my cynical nature, I’ve never been a big fan of “taking it slow,” or holding back. Hell, I hold back about as consistently as I eat and breathe, so I realize that’s not the smartest attitude to have, but I figure if you’re not going to be crazy about a woman from the moment you meet her, when exactly are you going to be crazy about a woman? So I admire this guy’s rapid, yet still honorable courting of you. The guy digs you. Trust me… A guy doesn’t bring a woman coffee or mix a CD (and I made more than my share of mix tapes, back in the day) if he only wants to get laid. This guy doesn’t only want to have sex with you… This guy really likes you. Unfortunately…
Forget the age difference. That’s the least of your worries. Not to contradict myself, but the guy brings you coffee and makes you mix tapes? Please! What is this, Mayberry? As I said, I appreciate the sentiment… But those gestures should be saved for, oh I don’t know, sometime after the first three weeks? Personally, I’d save that shit for marriage if I were him.
What, you don’t like a nice, bushy set of nose hairs on a man? Shame on you. Actually no, shame on him. You know how I spent five minutes of my getting-ready time this morning? I trimmed and buzzed my nose hair until it couldn’t be seen without a search party. I’m no chick, but the extraneous hair that men grow needs to be kept out of sight. There’s no two ways about it.
As for the sobriety issue, all I can say is where I come from real men drink beer – at least sometimes. Hard liquor and wine are fine, but a real man takes his girl to a ballgame every now and then, and when he does, he drinks a beer with her and root, root, roots for the home team. That’s never going to happen with this guy. And you need it to.
The final nail in this coffin is that the guy is well over 40 and he’s never been married. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. When a guy older than 40 has never been married, there’s usually a reason for it. I don’t know how true that is about women, but it’s almost a certainty in a man.
Forget what I said earlier about “not sprinting in the other direction…” It’s time to reach for the track shoes. This is what happens when you set the bar high. Be grateful.
Better Late Than Never
I’ll bet you’re wondering where I’ve been. Well I hate to disappoint you, but I was NOT shacked up with Scarlet Johansson’s middle-aged twin sister. I have been in hell. I have fallen victim to the worst thing that could happen to me, not counting cancer, a major car accident or waking up next to my ex-wife. My computer crashed. It didn’t just crash, it hurtled itself off a cliff. The Geek Squad is still trying to fix it, but it doesn’t look good. “You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone,” may have been written about a woman, but it could just as easily have been inspired by my laptop computer. I’ve been lost without it. But I’m here now, and I’m all ears.
So, the big three, huh? There’s really no arguing with it. If you ace mind, body and spirit in this life, the rest will cease to matter. You don’t need to be Deepak Chopra to embrace this outlook. I may not live this, but it doesn’t mean I don’t believe this… Maybe I should join you for this mind, body and spirit upgrade, or this making money, losing weight and getting laid upgrade, if you prefer.
Making money? I hear you. Let’s be thankful we’ve gotten to that point in life where there is no lingering, internal conflict about it. Making money is a good thing. We all have a right to do it, and we all define ourselves, to whatever degree by how well we do it. It may not keep us warm at night, but it sure does keep us dancing all day long. Just don’t forget to share.
Losing weight? This is where my version of the big three would differ. Personally, I think you worry about it too much. I think you give it too much weight in your life (pun intended). You know what they say about body type and body image – both are mostly defined by the parents. There’s nothing wrong with the body type you’ve been given. There’s everything wrong with the body image you’ve been taught.
Getting laid? Now we’re talking! Now we’re on the same page! What more worthwhile venture could we choose at this or any moment of our lives? There’s no denying the positive ripple effect that getting laid brings to our lives. We tip a little bigger, we let the car in front of us change lanes, and we laugh at bad jokes. Getting laid isn’t just about getting laid – getting laid opens our eyes and warms our hearts. Getting laid more often just might be the best idea you’ve had this year.
Meanwhile, there’s nothing wrong with a tool belt as long as the guy knows how every tool works. OK, I couldn’t resist. But are you trying to tell me that because he works with his hands and probably didn’t go to college that should matter? Shame on you! But also, shame on you for something else. He gets points for being “nice?” What exact species of asshole have you been dating recently? Being “nice” is about as difficult as saying hello. Being “nice” is one of the few qualities in a person we should always be able to take for granted. Being “nice” is the least of what you should ever look for in a man. The only thing worse than a quality woman thinking she’s not worthy of a particular type of man is when a quality woman, or any woman for that matter thinks she’s better, or above a particular type of man. You’re too good to fall into either category – so don’t.
Out With The Old
Is there anything cleaner than a clean slate? Remember when you were in elementary school and they erased the blackboard with a wet rag or towel? I used to love that. Instead of streaks and smudges, the board was good as new. Consider your love life the same way with this move… Your love life isn’t just clean – it’s as good as new. So forget the lonely part and focus on the “I have a clean slate AND a kick-ass place to live.
Some things you might want to consider in your new place:
NEIGHBORS: Don’t even think about it. The LAST thing you want is to engage in any romantic or sexual interaction with some dude from 3B. When two neighbors get involved, the bar is lowered to just above ground level. “He’s OK… I mean, he’s not great-looking and he smells a bit and he’s not quite as smart as I usually like – but he’s right down the hall.” Only guys fall into that trap. We lower our standards all the time anyway, depending on how long the drought has lasted. Location, location, location is the rule of thumb in real estate – not romance.
LOCAL WATERING HOLE: Find one – immediately. Don’t make it too fancy, but it can’t be too much of a dive, either. It has to be the kind of place you can go alone, without feeling like a loser and without feeling like you have a sign on your forehead that says, “Make me an offer.” It has to be the kind of place that only plays sports on TV. Most important, it has to be the kind of place where the bartender watches out for you. For a good bartender, this is simply part of the job. It wouldn’t hurt if he was cute, either.
NOISE LEVEL: I like to play my music LOUD. It could be Sinatra, it could be Alice Cooper, but it’s always loud. I can’t do this where I live now, and it’s absolutely killing me. In your case, I’m not talking about music. I’m not talking about your living room walls… It’s the bedroom walls of your new place that you might want to test for reverb, and echo, and all-around flimsiness. The last thing you want to be known as in your new building is “that loud chick that gets laid a lot on the first floor.” Of course with your sex life lately, this might not be such a big problem.
Out with the old and in with the new, indeed… And though it goes without saying, I’ll say it anyway: Let’s make this new place a one-night-stand-free zone.
Playing With Fire
This is either the worst idea you’ve had in a long time, or it’s the best. The roadblocks are everywhere… The bad memories have lingered… Odds are that you’ll be experiencing the same old pain in a plethora of new ways once this thing has played out…. But still. There’s something to be said for the rush of adrenaline and those same ol’ feelings that can only happen when someone we loved, or lusted after, or both, re-enters our lives. You’re probably headed for disaster, but the ride might be worth the price.
Let’s start with a heavy dose of reality: He made a list??? And you kept it??? I don’t know which is worse. What was on such a list? How long was it? And WHY THE HELL DID YOU KEEP IT? I’m no expert, but NO ONE on this planet has the right to put such a list together, much less actually present it to the woman. At the other end, that list should have been burned when you received it, not kept.
Shame on both of you.
Plus… If you really think that the first time around was based purely on the “mystery” of it all, what about it feels any different now? How do you know his return foray into your life would be any different now? How do you know that he won’t lose interest again, stop wanting to kiss you and become less attractive by the hour? It’s ten years later; if a guy became less attractive to you, then how can an additional decade of loose skin and receding hair be anything other than a guarantee that it will happen again?
Not to mention the part about no sex being, “… pretty much just like our old relationship.” Since when is that OK? I’ll tell you when that’s OK – when you’ve been married for a hundred years and have a house full of kids.You were entering your sexual prime during this relationship, weren’t you? Are you telling me you were willing to accept that, even for a minute? One of the reasons I don’t get involved with women I don’t care about is because I figure it’ll be obvious that I’m not interested after the first five minutes, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Clearly, you were one of those women who can tell when a man loses interest. Clearly, you remember this part of the relationship, well, clearly. This alone should have been completely unacceptable at the time. Now, it’s exactly the way things should be.
The good news? You used to be friends. You used to be best friends. You used to be “When Harry Met Sally.” Think of all the couples you know today. Now, think about those few that are worth the price of admission. What is it about these couples that makes a relationship seem even plausible, not to mention desirable? It’s the friendship they have, inside and out. You guys are ten years later this time around. Being friends is the best part of this relationship that you remember – maybe the only good part. If we all have to get to a certain point in our lives before knowing this and living this become one in the same, maybe the guy you used to love has gotten to this point. I hope so… If not, you are in for a world of hurt.
Do me, and yourself this one favor, and this time you have to really mean it. DO NOT make this thing about him, and what he wants and who he has become. Make it about you, and what YOU want and who YOU have become. You’ll be doing yourself, and him a lot of good.
And pardon my ignorance, but what exactly is #1, anyway?
