Monday, November 24, 2008
Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…
Monday, 17 November 2008
Sex in the Woods
by Crystal Laramore
Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…
“We’re not over. I love you with all my heart”. I keep hearing the words. The words keep me up at night. But the action (or lack there of), doesn’t back up the words. And that wakes me in the middle of the night. It’s been over a week since he’s called. Three weeks between that phone call and the last. Here’s your sign. The whispered words are fainter with each passing day. Silly girl, tricks are for rabbits.
Anyhoo, my mojo is coming back! Well, my coffee mojo anyway. There for a few weeks I just couldn’t get it right. Every morning I make myself (cuz I can’t afford staff on days the restaurant is closed) a café latte and froth the milk and lately the frothing part of my daily ritual has been off a bit. Well, it’s been flat, actually. No froth. Do you know how devastating no froth in a café latte is? Especially to an already unbalanced individual.
But one day last week I made the perfect cup of coffee, froth and all! The next thought had no real place in my pattern of thoughts…wait, have I had a pattern lately? Yes. Scattered. So, actually the next thought fit right in. It was about a cat my sister hijacked. She didn’t really kidnap it as she does let it go outside but she has definitely hijacked it.
My little sister was going through a divorce and doing the whole “why doesn’t he love me” drama dance, like we doooooo, and she was praying to God to get her mojo back. About that time a black, male cat showed up on her front porch, walked right in her cluttered “I’m newly divorced” condo and made himself right at home. She was a bit taken aback since she not only didn’t like cats, she didn’t like men. And a black cat? What more bad luck could she possibly withstand? Well, there was a collar and a name tag on the black, male cat. His ass was goin home! Until she read the name tag. His name: Drum roll please: MOJO! Seriously. God really does do things to amuse himself. I can see him now sitting on his throne giggling to himself saying “Ya really gotta learn to be more specific people, otherwise…”
Since God was channeling himself through the black, male cat named Mojo, my sister decided she should probably, at the very least, provide food and shelter. Hopefully she never provides clothing. The hijacking part comes from the fact that she bought cat a diamond studded dual bowl set, is dishing up it’s favorite brand of caviar and serving it Evian water. Would YOU go back home? God keeps looking around Heaven asking Peter “Where IS my son”? Wonder where he got off to this week.
Anyway, back to me: I now know why people get together during a time of pain and suffering. When we are hurting we want someone to console us and when it can’t be the one delivering the P&S (pain & suffering) sometimes we turn to who is available/willing. Ooooooh, I just thought of another song to replace the silly love songs: “So if you can’t beeeeeee with the one you love honey, love the one you’re with”. Oh, I digress. My bad. I have a good friend who I do not want to date for reasons far beyond the fact that he is a great man. And being the great man he is, when I called, when I needed him, he came running; even though I was drunk-texting him; even though he knew who I really wanted. Yes, he came over – Even Though - and just held me. Excuse me, I’m getting teary-eyed and need a break. I just put on make-up and hate to waste good product…
…ok, I’m back. Whew. The sadness comes in waves. So, my friend didn’t even have a clue that Richard had put me on hold. I told ya’ll already that I hadn’t let on to my friends and letting go is such a quiet sound. My friend was totally shocked as he has met Richard and thought it was a match made in heaven. Yeah, me too. That’s the funny (gotta laugh or I’ll cry again and again) thing - it is a match made in Heaven. My friend wondered why I hadn’t called him before now. I told it him it wouldn’t have done any good cuz he wouldn’t have been able to understand me. The ugly cry doesn’t lend itself to comprehensible verbiage. He may have understood sign language; maybe we could have played charades: Woman in midst of ugly cry, making loud duck(like) call sounds with nose, coupons for Kleenex with lotion surrounding her, arm reaching toward bottle of Big Ass Shiraz holding empty wine glass…No last night was the perfect time. I was able to clearly state my case and not cry. Oh, I got teary-eyed, but not one tear rolled down my cheek. Moving right along. Isn’t it sad?
Anyway, my friend held me and we talked about the evening at the restaurant. I told him about my new musician and how he had invited someone here to meet me. The man’s name was Richard. My friend said “Hmm. You certainly don’t want to start dating someone with the same name as the one you’re trying to get over”. Wow! I hadn’t even put two and twelve together! So there I was being introduced to another Richard and never even thought of my Richard! Ha! How do ya like that? It’s about time! (And no, I do not want to date anyone else. What I want however seems not to be the issue. But, what I am doing is waiting and hoping and venting.) My friend and I decided I was on the road to recovery! And then, I made another perfect café latte this morning! Fluffy froth and all!
And, I took a shower. I didn’t cry and I didn’t draw hearts with his name in the center. What I did do was discover that if you are really interested in your hygiene there is a lot to do in there! It just takes focus. No time for crying when you are actually shaving your legs, washing AND conditioning your hair, scrubbing the dead skin (there’s a metaphor if you think for a split-second…) off your feet and just generally cleaning your body. I’m not sure I’ve been remembering all of those steps lately. I’ve had other stuff to do in there. Like draw hearts and write “I love Richard” in the fog and cry and beat the wall and scream at the water; then erase the hearts and love notes and step out of the therapy shower without falling down. I fell down once about eight years ago and the only thing I keep thinking through this heart-wrenching betrayal I’m feeling is that I can’t fall down again. I can get weak, I can cry but, I. Can’t. Fall. Down. Must. Not. Fall. Down.
Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…
Sex in the Woods by Crystal Laramore
Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…
“We’re not over. I love you with all my heart”. I keep hearing the words. The words keep me up at night. But the action (or lack there of), doesn’t back up the words. And that wakes me in the middle of the night. It’s been over a week since he’s called. Three weeks between that phone call and the last. Here’s your sign. The whispered words are fainter with each passing day. Silly girl, tricks are for rabbits.
Anyhoo, my mojo is coming back! Well, my coffee mojo anyway. There for a few weeks I just couldn’t get it right. Every morning I make myself (cuz I can’t afford staff on days the restaurant is closed) a café latte and froth the milk and lately the frothing part of my daily ritual has been off a bit. Well, it’s been flat, actually. No froth. Do you know how devastating no froth in a café latte is? Especially to an already unbalanced individual.
But one day last week I made the perfect cup of coffee, froth and all! The next thought had no real place in my pattern of thoughts…wait, have I had a pattern lately? Yes. Scattered. So, actually the next thought fit right in. It was about a cat my sister hijacked. She didn’t really kidnap it as she does let it go outside but she has definitely hijacked it.
My little sister was going through a divorce and doing the whole “why doesn’t he love me” drama dance, like we doooooo, and she was praying to God to get her mojo back. About that time a black, male cat showed up on her front porch, walked right in her cluttered “I’m newly divorced” condo and made himself right at home. She was a bit taken aback since she not only didn’t like cats, she didn’t like men. And a black cat? What more bad luck could she possibly withstand? Well, there was a collar and a name tag on the black, male cat. His ass was goin home! Until she read the name tag. His name: Drum roll please: MOJO! Seriously. God really does do things to amuse himself. I can see him now sitting on his throne giggling to himself saying “Ya really gotta learn to be more specific people, otherwise…”
Since God was channeling himself through the black, male cat named Mojo, my sister decided she should probably, at the very least, provide food and shelter. Hopefully she never provides clothing. The hijacking part comes from the fact that she bought cat a diamond studded dual bowl set, is dishing up it’s favorite brand of caviar and serving it Evian water. Would YOU go back home? God keeps looking around Heaven asking Peter “Where IS my son”? Wonder where he got off to this week.
Anyway, back to me: I now know why people get together during a time of pain and suffering. When we are hurting we want someone to console us and when it can’t be the one delivering the P&S (pain & suffering) sometimes we turn to who is available/willing. Ooooooh, I just thought of another song to replace the silly love songs: “So if you can’t beeeeeee with the one you love honey, love the one you’re with”. Oh, I digress. My bad. I have a good friend who I do not want to date for reasons far beyond the fact that he is a great man. And being the great man he is, when I called, when I needed him, he came running; even though I was drunk-texting him; even though he knew who I really wanted. Yes, he came over – Even Though - and just held me. Excuse me, I’m getting teary-eyed and need a break. I just put on make-up and hate to waste good product…
…ok, I’m back. Whew. The sadness comes in waves. So, my friend didn’t even have a clue that Richard had put me on hold. I told ya’ll already that I hadn’t let on to my friends and letting go is such a quiet sound. My friend was totally shocked as he has met Richard and thought it was a match made in heaven. Yeah, me too. That’s the funny (gotta laugh or I’ll cry again and again) thing - it is a match made in Heaven. My friend wondered why I hadn’t called him before now. I told it him it wouldn’t have done any good cuz he wouldn’t have been able to understand me. The ugly cry doesn’t lend itself to comprehensible verbiage. He may have understood sign language; maybe we could have played charades: Woman in midst of ugly cry, making loud duck(like) call sounds with nose, coupons for Kleenex with lotion surrounding her, arm reaching toward bottle of Big Ass Shiraz holding empty wine glass…No last night was the perfect time. I was able to clearly state my case and not cry. Oh, I got teary-eyed, but not one tear rolled down my cheek. Moving right along. Isn’t it sad?
Anyway, my friend held me and we talked about the evening at the restaurant. I told him about my new musician and how he had invited someone here to meet me. The man’s name was Richard. My friend said “Hmm. You certainly don’t want to start dating someone with the same name as the one you’re trying to get over”. Wow! I hadn’t even put two and two together! So there I was being introduced to another Richard and never even thought of my Richard! Ha! How do ya like that? It’s about time! (And no, I do not want to date anyone else. What I want however seems not to be the issue. What I am doing is waiting and hoping and venting.) My friend and I decided I was on the road to recovery! And then, I made another perfect café latte this morning! Fluffy froth and all!
And, I took a shower. I didn’t cry and I didn’t draw hearts with his name in the center. What I did do was discover that if you are really interested in your hygiene there is a lot to do in there! It just takes focus. No time for crying when you are actually shaving your legs, washing AND conditioning your hair, scrubbing the dead skin (there’s a metaphor if you think for a split-second…) off your feet and just generally cleaning your body. I’m not sure I’ve been remembering all of those steps lately. I’ve had other stuff to do in there. Like draw hearts and write “I love Richard” in the fog and cry and beat the wall and scream at the water; then erase the hearts and love notes and step out of the therapy shower without falling down. I fell down once about eight years ago and the only thing I keep thinking through this heart-wrenching betrayal I’m feeling is that I can’t fall down again. I can get weak, I can cry but, I. Can’t. Fall. Down. Must. Not. Fall. Down.
Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…
“We’re not over. I love you with all my heart”. I keep hearing the words. The words keep me up at night. But the action (or lack there of), doesn’t back up the words. And that wakes me in the middle of the night. It’s been over a week since he’s called. Three weeks between that phone call and the last. Here’s your sign. The whispered words are fainter with each passing day. Silly girl, tricks are for rabbits.
Anyhoo, my mojo is coming back! Well, my coffee mojo anyway. There for a few weeks I just couldn’t get it right. Every morning I make myself (cuz I can’t afford staff on days the restaurant is closed) a café latte and froth the milk and lately the frothing part of my daily ritual has been off a bit. Well, it’s been flat, actually. No froth. Do you know how devastating no froth in a café latte is? Especially to an already unbalanced individual.
But one day last week I made the perfect cup of coffee, froth and all! The next thought had no real place in my pattern of thoughts…wait, have I had a pattern lately? Yes. Scattered. So, actually the next thought fit right in. It was about a cat my sister hijacked. She didn’t really kidnap it as she does let it go outside but she has definitely hijacked it.
My little sister was going through a divorce and doing the whole “why doesn’t he love me” drama dance, like we doooooo, and she was praying to God to get her mojo back. About that time a black, male cat showed up on her front porch, walked right in her cluttered “I’m newly divorced” condo and made himself right at home. She was a bit taken aback since she not only didn’t like cats, she didn’t like men. And a black cat? What more bad luck could she possibly withstand? Well, there was a collar and a name tag on the black, male cat. His ass was goin home! Until she read the name tag. His name: Drum roll please: MOJO! Seriously. God really does do things to amuse himself. I can see him now sitting on his throne giggling to himself saying “Ya really gotta learn to be more specific people, otherwise…”
Since God was channeling himself through the black, male cat named Mojo, my sister decided she should probably, at the very least, provide food and shelter. Hopefully she never provides clothing. The hijacking part comes from the fact that she bought cat a diamond studded dual bowl set, is dishing up it’s favorite brand of caviar and serving it Evian water. Would YOU go back home? God keeps looking around Heaven asking Peter “Where IS my son”? Wonder where he got off to this week.
Anyway, back to me: I now know why people get together during a time of pain and suffering. When we are hurting we want someone to console us and when it can’t be the one delivering the P&S (pain & suffering) sometimes we turn to who is available/willing. Ooooooh, I just thought of another song to replace the silly love songs: “So if you can’t beeeeeee with the one you love honey, love the one you’re with”. Oh, I digress. My bad. I have a good friend who I do not want to date for reasons far beyond the fact that he is a great man. And being the great man he is, when I called, when I needed him, he came running; even though I was drunk-texting him; even though he knew who I really wanted. Yes, he came over – Even Though - and just held me. Excuse me, I’m getting teary-eyed and need a break. I just put on make-up and hate to waste good product…
…ok, I’m back. Whew. The sadness comes in waves. So, my friend didn’t even have a clue that Richard had put me on hold. I told ya’ll already that I hadn’t let on to my friends and letting go is such a quiet sound. My friend was totally shocked as he has met Richard and thought it was a match made in heaven. Yeah, me too. That’s the funny (gotta laugh or I’ll cry again and again) thing - it is a match made in Heaven. My friend wondered why I hadn’t called him before now. I told it him it wouldn’t have done any good cuz he wouldn’t have been able to understand me. The ugly cry doesn’t lend itself to comprehensible verbiage. He may have understood sign language; maybe we could have played charades: Woman in midst of ugly cry, making loud duck(like) call sounds with nose, coupons for Kleenex with lotion surrounding her, arm reaching toward bottle of Big Ass Shiraz holding empty wine glass…No last night was the perfect time. I was able to clearly state my case and not cry. Oh, I got teary-eyed, but not one tear rolled down my cheek. Moving right along. Isn’t it sad?
Anyway, my friend held me and we talked about the evening at the restaurant. I told him about my new musician and how he had invited someone here to meet me. The man’s name was Richard. My friend said “Hmm. You certainly don’t want to start dating someone with the same name as the one you’re trying to get over”. Wow! I hadn’t even put two and two together! So there I was being introduced to another Richard and never even thought of my Richard! Ha! How do ya like that? It’s about time! (And no, I do not want to date anyone else. What I want however seems not to be the issue. What I am doing is waiting and hoping and venting.) My friend and I decided I was on the road to recovery! And then, I made another perfect café latte this morning! Fluffy froth and all!
And, I took a shower. I didn’t cry and I didn’t draw hearts with his name in the center. What I did do was discover that if you are really interested in your hygiene there is a lot to do in there! It just takes focus. No time for crying when you are actually shaving your legs, washing AND conditioning your hair, scrubbing the dead skin (there’s a metaphor if you think for a split-second…) off your feet and just generally cleaning your body. I’m not sure I’ve been remembering all of those steps lately. I’ve had other stuff to do in there. Like draw hearts and write “I love Richard” in the fog and cry and beat the wall and scream at the water; then erase the hearts and love notes and step out of the therapy shower without falling down. I fell down once about eight years ago and the only thing I keep thinking through this heart-wrenching betrayal I’m feeling is that I can’t fall down again. I can get weak, I can cry but, I. Can’t. Fall. Down. Must. Not. Fall. Down.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Dear Richard, Again...
Sex in the Woods
by Crystal Laramore
“Listening to the rhythm of the falling rain, drinking a bottle of Big Ass Shiraz”. Hey it’s my party and I’ll sing the songs however I want to. At least I haven’t gone so far into the Country & Western Vault of sad songs that I’m in the Patsy Cline Crazy section. Oh, I mean the song Crazy. Yes, I’m in the crazy section of life all right.
Listen Hold People, when we’re on hold why can’t we listen to rain & thunder? It’s soooo soothing. Today I was on a different kind of hold-the hospital (NOT the crazy part of the hospital, but next week…) put me on hold. They kept saying “thank you for your patience”. What? I’m not being patient. You “hold people” are in denial. I’m fuming and by the time you answer this phone…
Clearly I’m still on (relationship) hold and still doing crazy things like driving 25 miles to make a deposit at the bank on Veteran’s Day and then driving straight to the post office to check the mail-YES, on the very same national holiday. I bet the bank video made for some pretty good speculation on Wednesday morning. WHO IS this crazy lady looking all over for people or help? Doesn’t she know it’s a national holiday? Hmmm, she does have a crazed look in her eyes. Maybe she’s casing the joint…That was yesterday…
Today, my poor, poor propane guy called me (Wednesday, 12 November). He may never call again. He was calling to give me a quote on a propane heater and started off the conversation with “Hey, I found one for $313. It might just be cheaper to get a big burly man to sleep with you at night and keep you warm”. He followed up his undeniable wit with a lot of laughter. I followed it up with a lot of shoulder-heaving, ugly crying. Sorry, sobbing. He quickly responded with, “But with my discount it would only be $275.00”. I hung up on him.
What does that say? If I cry I can get a $38 discount? If my feelings are being hurt and my heart is aching it actually has a monetary value? Pain is worth something? And men wonder why (some) women can cry at the drop of a hat. Let me know when my crying is worth a Mercedes!
Thursdays we play Texas Hold ’Em. It’s a ritualistic event here. We always have the usual suspects and sometimes a newbie or two. Wonder if Jeff will ever step inside again? If I were him I would be wondering if the environment “in there” is stable. “What if I beat her at poker? She does have a concealed hand-gun license”. Yes, there are lots of scenarios I would be playing in my head if I were him and I had just spoken with me.
Yesterday I thought I was healing cuz I deleted one of his emails. Not one to me directly you understand, cuz that is just crazy man. No, it was one where he hit “reply all”. I just hit delete. Typically I would read his five little words and think how wise he is to get his thought process across in so few words (cuz that impresses me. I’m a little wordy.) and then I would save his profound five little words in “His” file. I looked at “his” file the other day and the day I was put on hold just jumps out at me, like Jason in Friday the 13th. Good thing I’m a saver. That way I know when things were put on hold and I can put a time frame on the holding pattern and hang up one day. You know, when I’m not patient anymore.
Some good news (really, it’s sad news but I’m trying to be a bitch) is that when I wake up now he’s not the first thought on my mind, he’s the second and that’s a start. My friends, male and female alike, laughed a lot at my last article/blog and that made me laugh too. Laughter, like time, is a good healer. But then again, so is beer and tequila. Music on the other hand is a terrible healer unless you like country music. County music and some of the pop music I’ve found (Rehab) have really lifted my spirits and given me lots of ideas in case I cross the line between sanity and wigged out, put on a diaper and drive fifteen hours to see him; yes, without a written/verbal/mental invitation. So...
One of my male friends is going through exactly the same thing and his dilemma, his reason for sleepless nights is the “why” factor. He wants to know why. Heck, I KNOW why and it doesn’t help. He says his imagination is running in circles and I just suggested he not give his imagination a knife! Sometimes your mind is a dangerous place and you shouldn’t go there alone. Take a friend. But take a stable friend. Snicker, as if…
Hopefully I’m not the only friend he has right now cuz if I am he’s up the proverbial creek without a paddle!
Lying. I’ve gotten really good at lying. Emotions are unique and completely unpredictable. I’ll go an entire 21 hours without crying and then one of my customers will tell me about he and his wife’s trip to Brazil and there I go-excusing myself to run to the kitchen and put out a grease-fire. It’s a good explanation for the puffy eyes and red nose when I return. I’ve used allergies and those damn onions as excuses for watery eyes and a red nose as well.
When people walk in the restaurant they always say “How are you, Crystal”? Partly, I would like to think, is b/c my customers and I really care about each other. That is why I lie so much to them. It’s safer for our relationship than the truth. Plus they aren’t really expecting the truth.
Life is so full of surprises that if you aren’t expecting any you can be caught completely unawares. Like when you’re in jail for casing the bank and seem confused. Or when you run out of the house with socks and Crocs and meet the hottest person with teeth ya evah did see in your whole blessed life. And no matter how understanding/patient/loving/yada/yada/yada we people on hold are, being caught completely unawares is a tough place to be. However, my Death by Chocolate Martinis doooo sooth the soul. No, I’m not morbid. I didn’t name them after him. I named them before him. It’s not like I drink them wishing the whole time, right down to the chocolate covered cherry, that he was dead. Nothing like that ya’ll. Why, I love him. (Most of this paragraph should be said with the southern twang of Scarlet O’Hara.) Read it again. It’ll be funnier.
“Have a blessed day. I’ve emailed you a guardian angel”. Are you kidding me? I’m in relationship hell-I’m still in the holding pattern for Pete’s sake. This sweet voice keeps saying “Your call is important to us”…and you people are sending me EMAIL ANGELS? I just want to turn those emails into solid, animate objects and throw them as hard as I can to the freaking, inconsiderate, imbecile who sent it to me. Except the one my friend Sue sent me. Her guardian angel was a hot, tanned, dark, handsome angel wearing nothing but white, feathered wings and a loin cloth. Hello Angel!
“Don’t break the chain or something bad will happen to you”. There’s the “why”! I’m in relationship hell b/c I broke a chain. Crap. I broke a lot of chains. Guess I’ll have to stay away from relationships for a long, long time. Wonder if my friends can take some of my bad karma? Well, that’s what friends are for isn’t it? My favorite definition of friendship is the one I share with my best friend and editor, Deborah Martin: “Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies”. She’s been worried lately that I will test that theory.
Me too.
Richard sent me some flowers for my birthday. They lasted a day. They started drooping and looking sad and then I started drooping and … So, I put them outside in the cold, where my heart is. Yes, I’ve already noted in the previous column that I’m sad and pathetic so I don’t need the lecture. Anyway, I put the droopy, sad roses in his box. What a waste of money. We’d both be better off if he’d just sent Prozac or Kleenex or a case of Big Ass Shiraz. You should all be saying “note to self” right about now.
Speaking of Prozac, therapy comes in many forms. I’ve been building a bigger closet (you know, for all the new clothes I’ve bought), re-arranging furniture and covering my sofa cushions in bright and colorful fabric. Plus, I’m way ahead of schedule on my articles! What I haven’t been doing is paying bills. Oh, I do the payroll but that’s only cuz I want to be alone, I don’t want to work alone. But I don’t care if I can’t make long-distance calls or if Direct TV doesn’t work. I do care about the internet though. What would I do without Spider Solitaire? How would I spend my time if not checking my Inbox every 2.5 seconds, re-reading his love messages? Big Sigh.
by Crystal Laramore
“Listening to the rhythm of the falling rain, drinking a bottle of Big Ass Shiraz”. Hey it’s my party and I’ll sing the songs however I want to. At least I haven’t gone so far into the Country & Western Vault of sad songs that I’m in the Patsy Cline Crazy section. Oh, I mean the song Crazy. Yes, I’m in the crazy section of life all right.
Listen Hold People, when we’re on hold why can’t we listen to rain & thunder? It’s soooo soothing. Today I was on a different kind of hold-the hospital (NOT the crazy part of the hospital, but next week…) put me on hold. They kept saying “thank you for your patience”. What? I’m not being patient. You “hold people” are in denial. I’m fuming and by the time you answer this phone…
Clearly I’m still on (relationship) hold and still doing crazy things like driving 25 miles to make a deposit at the bank on Veteran’s Day and then driving straight to the post office to check the mail-YES, on the very same national holiday. I bet the bank video made for some pretty good speculation on Wednesday morning. WHO IS this crazy lady looking all over for people or help? Doesn’t she know it’s a national holiday? Hmmm, she does have a crazed look in her eyes. Maybe she’s casing the joint…That was yesterday…
Today, my poor, poor propane guy called me (Wednesday, 12 November). He may never call again. He was calling to give me a quote on a propane heater and started off the conversation with “Hey, I found one for $313. It might just be cheaper to get a big burly man to sleep with you at night and keep you warm”. He followed up his undeniable wit with a lot of laughter. I followed it up with a lot of shoulder-heaving, ugly crying. Sorry, sobbing. He quickly responded with, “But with my discount it would only be $275.00”. I hung up on him.
What does that say? If I cry I can get a $38 discount? If my feelings are being hurt and my heart is aching it actually has a monetary value? Pain is worth something? And men wonder why (some) women can cry at the drop of a hat. Let me know when my crying is worth a Mercedes!
Thursdays we play Texas Hold ’Em. It’s a ritualistic event here. We always have the usual suspects and sometimes a newbie or two. Wonder if Jeff will ever step inside again? If I were him I would be wondering if the environment “in there” is stable. “What if I beat her at poker? She does have a concealed hand-gun license”. Yes, there are lots of scenarios I would be playing in my head if I were him and I had just spoken with me.
Yesterday I thought I was healing cuz I deleted one of his emails. Not one to me directly you understand, cuz that is just crazy man. No, it was one where he hit “reply all”. I just hit delete. Typically I would read his five little words and think how wise he is to get his thought process across in so few words (cuz that impresses me. I’m a little wordy.) and then I would save his profound five little words in “His” file. I looked at “his” file the other day and the day I was put on hold just jumps out at me, like Jason in Friday the 13th. Good thing I’m a saver. That way I know when things were put on hold and I can put a time frame on the holding pattern and hang up one day. You know, when I’m not patient anymore.
Some good news (really, it’s sad news but I’m trying to be a bitch) is that when I wake up now he’s not the first thought on my mind, he’s the second and that’s a start. My friends, male and female alike, laughed a lot at my last article/blog and that made me laugh too. Laughter, like time, is a good healer. But then again, so is beer and tequila. Music on the other hand is a terrible healer unless you like country music. County music and some of the pop music I’ve found (Rehab) have really lifted my spirits and given me lots of ideas in case I cross the line between sanity and wigged out, put on a diaper and drive fifteen hours to see him; yes, without a written/verbal/mental invitation. So...
One of my male friends is going through exactly the same thing and his dilemma, his reason for sleepless nights is the “why” factor. He wants to know why. Heck, I KNOW why and it doesn’t help. He says his imagination is running in circles and I just suggested he not give his imagination a knife! Sometimes your mind is a dangerous place and you shouldn’t go there alone. Take a friend. But take a stable friend. Snicker, as if…
Hopefully I’m not the only friend he has right now cuz if I am he’s up the proverbial creek without a paddle!
Lying. I’ve gotten really good at lying. Emotions are unique and completely unpredictable. I’ll go an entire 21 hours without crying and then one of my customers will tell me about he and his wife’s trip to Brazil and there I go-excusing myself to run to the kitchen and put out a grease-fire. It’s a good explanation for the puffy eyes and red nose when I return. I’ve used allergies and those damn onions as excuses for watery eyes and a red nose as well.
When people walk in the restaurant they always say “How are you, Crystal”? Partly, I would like to think, is b/c my customers and I really care about each other. That is why I lie so much to them. It’s safer for our relationship than the truth. Plus they aren’t really expecting the truth.
Life is so full of surprises that if you aren’t expecting any you can be caught completely unawares. Like when you’re in jail for casing the bank and seem confused. Or when you run out of the house with socks and Crocs and meet the hottest person with teeth ya evah did see in your whole blessed life. And no matter how understanding/patient/loving/yada/yada/yada we people on hold are, being caught completely unawares is a tough place to be. However, my Death by Chocolate Martinis doooo sooth the soul. No, I’m not morbid. I didn’t name them after him. I named them before him. It’s not like I drink them wishing the whole time, right down to the chocolate covered cherry, that he was dead. Nothing like that ya’ll. Why, I love him. (Most of this paragraph should be said with the southern twang of Scarlet O’Hara.) Read it again. It’ll be funnier.
“Have a blessed day. I’ve emailed you a guardian angel”. Are you kidding me? I’m in relationship hell-I’m still in the holding pattern for Pete’s sake. This sweet voice keeps saying “Your call is important to us”…and you people are sending me EMAIL ANGELS? I just want to turn those emails into solid, animate objects and throw them as hard as I can to the freaking, inconsiderate, imbecile who sent it to me. Except the one my friend Sue sent me. Her guardian angel was a hot, tanned, dark, handsome angel wearing nothing but white, feathered wings and a loin cloth. Hello Angel!
“Don’t break the chain or something bad will happen to you”. There’s the “why”! I’m in relationship hell b/c I broke a chain. Crap. I broke a lot of chains. Guess I’ll have to stay away from relationships for a long, long time. Wonder if my friends can take some of my bad karma? Well, that’s what friends are for isn’t it? My favorite definition of friendship is the one I share with my best friend and editor, Deborah Martin: “Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies”. She’s been worried lately that I will test that theory.
Me too.
Richard sent me some flowers for my birthday. They lasted a day. They started drooping and looking sad and then I started drooping and … So, I put them outside in the cold, where my heart is. Yes, I’ve already noted in the previous column that I’m sad and pathetic so I don’t need the lecture. Anyway, I put the droopy, sad roses in his box. What a waste of money. We’d both be better off if he’d just sent Prozac or Kleenex or a case of Big Ass Shiraz. You should all be saying “note to self” right about now.
Speaking of Prozac, therapy comes in many forms. I’ve been building a bigger closet (you know, for all the new clothes I’ve bought), re-arranging furniture and covering my sofa cushions in bright and colorful fabric. Plus, I’m way ahead of schedule on my articles! What I haven’t been doing is paying bills. Oh, I do the payroll but that’s only cuz I want to be alone, I don’t want to work alone. But I don’t care if I can’t make long-distance calls or if Direct TV doesn’t work. I do care about the internet though. What would I do without Spider Solitaire? How would I spend my time if not checking my Inbox every 2.5 seconds, re-reading his love messages? Big Sigh.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Dear Richard (the name has been changed to entertain me)
Sex in the Woods
By Crystal Laramore
Edited by Deborah Martin (the “Cliff” chick-as in been there done that)
Dear Richard (the name has been changed to entertain me)
(The views and opinions in this article do not necessarily reflect the true feelings of the woman writing this article when she’s not sad/hormonal/drunk/angry/confused/generally pissed-off/drunk/sad…)
Well, I’m here. Where we all have been and never want to go again. Near death. Or, its close cousin, the death of a relationship. It’s a sad place to be and a funny place all at the same time. It’s that place we all promise ourselves we’ll never visit again. We love, we lose, we move on but we’ll never go there again. It’s a dark place and sometimes all the lights go out at once. And there is no power to bring the lights on again. Not even a generator.
When you know it’s over but you’re still holding on by your chewed up fingernails you find yourself doing really silly things. For instance, I’m reading books like Why Men Love Bitches as if turning into a bitch will make him love me enough to not let go??? Actually…And it’s distant cousin Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair. Well, we’re not getting a divorce and I have no cats, but two outta three ain’t bad! Didja get that?
I also call my two best friends (one is my aunt) and my sister ALL the time. Or else I would be calling him and according to the Bitch book…I did have to delete his number to accomplish that feat though. I also deleted his email address but some people don’t know we’re letting go (it’s a very quiet sound) so I keep getting his email address on my computer screen in bright blue letters-it’s like a flashing neon sign saying “Hey, remember me-I’m the guy breaking your heart”. It’s like pay it forward only different. LOL! Plus he sent me a txt msg. 4 my bday. Anyway, my poor friends, at this point, want us to reconcile more than I do I think. For their sanity, ya’ll understand.
They’re dodging what Oprah calls the ugly cry. But just like in dodge ball you just never know which me is going to be on the other end of the phone. I can see them now looking at the caller ID, seeing my name and praying to God that I’m having an “I’m a bitch day” instead of the “but he said ‘blah, blah, blah’” and “but I love him soooooo (this is where I am completely un-comprehensible and my shoulders are heaving up and down) much”. There are other pitiful phrases that I’m sure I use over and over but I’m trying to get my pathetic self off hold so I’m trying the amnesia theory; if I could just quit remembering what I’m trying to forget. That memory is a great enemy sometimes; especially when all you have are good ones-really, really good ones. You get one out of the way and your brain goes “But wait, there’s more”.
That whole remembering thing is dicey. It’s nice to have good memories to share with someone but when you become a solo act instead of a duo…it’s just not as much fun to share the memories with yourself of the first time we walked hand-in-hand, the time he caught more fish than I did but I caught the biggest one. Or to remember what you are going to do in the future. Like walk in the rain together…go on an adventure vacation, blah, blah, blah. No, these memories are not fun to share with the sofa and the box of Kleenex, not even with a whole bottle of Big Ass Shiraz all to yourself!
I’ve also turned from listening to love songs like James Taylor’s “You’ve Got a Friend” (a song he pointed out in the car and wanted me to listen to on a rainy, romantic evening) to songs that drip beautiful sentiments like “I took my key and scratched the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive and carved my name into his leather seats…” and I don’t even listen to country music. There are other songs about revenge too like that one about all those chick’s personalities; I think there was an El Camino and a key in that song too. Wonder if he parks in the garage? Wonder if he has security cameras? Just kidding. Snicker, snicker.
There are moments during this twilight zone that I do find entertaining. Like when really young men are flirting with me. Sometimes I need reading glasses but even the 250’s (which I don’t need) couldn’t change that 8 (as in 1982) to a 6 (as in I wish he was born in 1962…). I must have “I’m vulnerable and lonely and I’ve been duped errr (really, I’m not bitter) I mean dumped” on my wise-beyond-my-years forehead? Or is it “I’m much older than you and I have a house and my own business (oh yeah, that has a bar - duh!) and money and I can buy you an X-Box for Christmas”? But the good news is there are other single people out there and some even have teeth.
And then there are moments in this twilight zone I’m so angry I want to shoot out his knee. But I’m not so angry I want to shoot out his good knee. Shooting out an already bad knee just doesn’t seem so self-serving. Actually, I posed this theory to my UB and he never emailed me back. I guess it’s best to not have electronic proof of a conspiracy.
Less aggressively, I’ve deleted his picture from all the computer screens and the bberry screen. I’ve taken his framed love notes off the wall and I’ve started going to bars where people are. That’s a good thing cuz I just cried for the first three weeks and people were annoying cuz I couldn’t cry when the people were around. Even though I own my own business and the people meant money, I just didn’t want to see the people.
I also made note of time - a lot. Oh, it’s been exactly one, two, three weeks since he’s called. The last time was 8:11 on Wednesday. Not as bad as 9/11 but ... There are other things I’ve done that are more therapeutic than crying and noting historical moments in time, like when I packed up all his “stuff” in a box, taping it shut and addressing it. There are other things I haven’t done, like have the guts to actually put some postage on it and send it to his mother. Just kidding. Besides, he bought me these really great biking shorts with a padded butt and if I send the box back…selfish I know. It’s one of the side-affects. Ya’ll understand.
Which brings me to the part where I’m not working out (riding my bike) every day cuz those damn shorts are in that damn box. And the songs on the Ipod I listen to are, you guessed it, freaking love songs. There have to be 827 songs I’ll never be able to listen to again if we actually really break up, all the way, forever and ever, if he actually says the words.
Everything is just on hold. Have you been on hold lately? It’s infuriating. Like, I’ve got better things to do than just sit on hold. YES YOU DO! So why don’t we just hang up? Why do we sit on hold with people who try harder to hold on to bad relationships than they do to hold on to loving, committed (hey, there is a fine line between committed and commitment) ones? Because there is that promise that someone, a live and caring person will eventually answer our call. They even come on the line from time to time and promise someone will be right with you. Kinda like Richard is doing to me.
And people (men and women), when you want to break up with someone let me tell you what NOT to say: I have to give you back your heart. What? How? When? Where? Why? All the unanswered questions keep me up at night. It’s 1:24 a.m. right now and here I am writing to strangers…hmmmm. And if we give our heart to you it’s sorta impossible to give it back. Now, when we’ve had enough of being in the perpetual holding pattern, we may take it back, but you can’t just give someone back their feelings-just like that.
You’d think at our stage in the game we’d make better decisions regarding love, but maybe that’s where the lesson comes in. We can’t make people follow through with their assurances and the pledges of love so we must learn to treasure the moments we have while we have them. It’s that whole living in the moment thing.
Life is short and the older you get the shorter it gets. That’s another thing I’ve been doing, coming up with really profound and utterly stupid statements. I practice saying them to him when he calls but mostly I forget how to speak. I know how to write well and I’ve tried to write him a letter but its soooooooooooooooooooo long that I think he would lose interest around page 96. So, I’ve been keeping a journal. Ha! Take that! And that too! It’s a pretty safe place to vent unless you die and your parents get a hold of it. Then THEY may shoot out both of his knees. This medium is also a safe outlet since I quit sending him my articles. The bitch book says he doesn’t deserve to hear from me. Look people, it’s cheaper and more entertaining than therapy!
Not that he did anything wrong or I did anything wrong. It’s just the timing. He has some personal issues that he didn’t foresee and now that life is too stressful I’m the easiest thing to let go of. I understand. Really I do. I can understand how a woman a thousand miles away is stressful. How someone who doesn’t need a thing, like a boob-job or mortgage payments or every spare second of your time is stressful. And the good news is that I’m taking it all in stride and not becoming bitter.
Seriously folks, there are no answers. There are just questions sometimes. And as my sister says “Sometimes there aren’t enough band-aids”. The hard part for all of us is the part where we miss our best friend. We miss the laughter and the banter and the last call or the last text (and if his DOB has an 8 as the 3rd number, you need to learn how to txt!) of the evening. And when you have such a good thing as we do/did, with never any fights and a lot of love, the pain is deep and the loss is sad. But there is always hope.
Time is a wonderful thing. We’ll either all move on or we’ll re-connect. Life is often defined in stages: Birth, Life, Death; a straight line. But as Will Smith said on Oprah (Are you KIDDING me? You don’t watch Oprah when you are depressed?) if you define life as Birth, Life, Death, Re-birth then, you have a whole new outlook. Just take the ends, bend the line, connect the ends and start all over.
By Crystal Laramore
Edited by Deborah Martin (the “Cliff” chick-as in been there done that)
Dear Richard (the name has been changed to entertain me)
(The views and opinions in this article do not necessarily reflect the true feelings of the woman writing this article when she’s not sad/hormonal/drunk/angry/confused/generally pissed-off/drunk/sad…)
Well, I’m here. Where we all have been and never want to go again. Near death. Or, its close cousin, the death of a relationship. It’s a sad place to be and a funny place all at the same time. It’s that place we all promise ourselves we’ll never visit again. We love, we lose, we move on but we’ll never go there again. It’s a dark place and sometimes all the lights go out at once. And there is no power to bring the lights on again. Not even a generator.
When you know it’s over but you’re still holding on by your chewed up fingernails you find yourself doing really silly things. For instance, I’m reading books like Why Men Love Bitches as if turning into a bitch will make him love me enough to not let go??? Actually…And it’s distant cousin Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair. Well, we’re not getting a divorce and I have no cats, but two outta three ain’t bad! Didja get that?
I also call my two best friends (one is my aunt) and my sister ALL the time. Or else I would be calling him and according to the Bitch book…I did have to delete his number to accomplish that feat though. I also deleted his email address but some people don’t know we’re letting go (it’s a very quiet sound) so I keep getting his email address on my computer screen in bright blue letters-it’s like a flashing neon sign saying “Hey, remember me-I’m the guy breaking your heart”. It’s like pay it forward only different. LOL! Plus he sent me a txt msg. 4 my bday. Anyway, my poor friends, at this point, want us to reconcile more than I do I think. For their sanity, ya’ll understand.
They’re dodging what Oprah calls the ugly cry. But just like in dodge ball you just never know which me is going to be on the other end of the phone. I can see them now looking at the caller ID, seeing my name and praying to God that I’m having an “I’m a bitch day” instead of the “but he said ‘blah, blah, blah’” and “but I love him soooooo (this is where I am completely un-comprehensible and my shoulders are heaving up and down) much”. There are other pitiful phrases that I’m sure I use over and over but I’m trying to get my pathetic self off hold so I’m trying the amnesia theory; if I could just quit remembering what I’m trying to forget. That memory is a great enemy sometimes; especially when all you have are good ones-really, really good ones. You get one out of the way and your brain goes “But wait, there’s more”.
That whole remembering thing is dicey. It’s nice to have good memories to share with someone but when you become a solo act instead of a duo…it’s just not as much fun to share the memories with yourself of the first time we walked hand-in-hand, the time he caught more fish than I did but I caught the biggest one. Or to remember what you are going to do in the future. Like walk in the rain together…go on an adventure vacation, blah, blah, blah. No, these memories are not fun to share with the sofa and the box of Kleenex, not even with a whole bottle of Big Ass Shiraz all to yourself!
I’ve also turned from listening to love songs like James Taylor’s “You’ve Got a Friend” (a song he pointed out in the car and wanted me to listen to on a rainy, romantic evening) to songs that drip beautiful sentiments like “I took my key and scratched the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive and carved my name into his leather seats…” and I don’t even listen to country music. There are other songs about revenge too like that one about all those chick’s personalities; I think there was an El Camino and a key in that song too. Wonder if he parks in the garage? Wonder if he has security cameras? Just kidding. Snicker, snicker.
There are moments during this twilight zone that I do find entertaining. Like when really young men are flirting with me. Sometimes I need reading glasses but even the 250’s (which I don’t need) couldn’t change that 8 (as in 1982) to a 6 (as in I wish he was born in 1962…). I must have “I’m vulnerable and lonely and I’ve been duped errr (really, I’m not bitter) I mean dumped” on my wise-beyond-my-years forehead? Or is it “I’m much older than you and I have a house and my own business (oh yeah, that has a bar - duh!) and money and I can buy you an X-Box for Christmas”? But the good news is there are other single people out there and some even have teeth.
And then there are moments in this twilight zone I’m so angry I want to shoot out his knee. But I’m not so angry I want to shoot out his good knee. Shooting out an already bad knee just doesn’t seem so self-serving. Actually, I posed this theory to my UB and he never emailed me back. I guess it’s best to not have electronic proof of a conspiracy.
Less aggressively, I’ve deleted his picture from all the computer screens and the bberry screen. I’ve taken his framed love notes off the wall and I’ve started going to bars where people are. That’s a good thing cuz I just cried for the first three weeks and people were annoying cuz I couldn’t cry when the people were around. Even though I own my own business and the people meant money, I just didn’t want to see the people.
I also made note of time - a lot. Oh, it’s been exactly one, two, three weeks since he’s called. The last time was 8:11 on Wednesday. Not as bad as 9/11 but ... There are other things I’ve done that are more therapeutic than crying and noting historical moments in time, like when I packed up all his “stuff” in a box, taping it shut and addressing it. There are other things I haven’t done, like have the guts to actually put some postage on it and send it to his mother. Just kidding. Besides, he bought me these really great biking shorts with a padded butt and if I send the box back…selfish I know. It’s one of the side-affects. Ya’ll understand.
Which brings me to the part where I’m not working out (riding my bike) every day cuz those damn shorts are in that damn box. And the songs on the Ipod I listen to are, you guessed it, freaking love songs. There have to be 827 songs I’ll never be able to listen to again if we actually really break up, all the way, forever and ever, if he actually says the words.
Everything is just on hold. Have you been on hold lately? It’s infuriating. Like, I’ve got better things to do than just sit on hold. YES YOU DO! So why don’t we just hang up? Why do we sit on hold with people who try harder to hold on to bad relationships than they do to hold on to loving, committed (hey, there is a fine line between committed and commitment) ones? Because there is that promise that someone, a live and caring person will eventually answer our call. They even come on the line from time to time and promise someone will be right with you. Kinda like Richard is doing to me.
And people (men and women), when you want to break up with someone let me tell you what NOT to say: I have to give you back your heart. What? How? When? Where? Why? All the unanswered questions keep me up at night. It’s 1:24 a.m. right now and here I am writing to strangers…hmmmm. And if we give our heart to you it’s sorta impossible to give it back. Now, when we’ve had enough of being in the perpetual holding pattern, we may take it back, but you can’t just give someone back their feelings-just like that.
You’d think at our stage in the game we’d make better decisions regarding love, but maybe that’s where the lesson comes in. We can’t make people follow through with their assurances and the pledges of love so we must learn to treasure the moments we have while we have them. It’s that whole living in the moment thing.
Life is short and the older you get the shorter it gets. That’s another thing I’ve been doing, coming up with really profound and utterly stupid statements. I practice saying them to him when he calls but mostly I forget how to speak. I know how to write well and I’ve tried to write him a letter but its soooooooooooooooooooo long that I think he would lose interest around page 96. So, I’ve been keeping a journal. Ha! Take that! And that too! It’s a pretty safe place to vent unless you die and your parents get a hold of it. Then THEY may shoot out both of his knees. This medium is also a safe outlet since I quit sending him my articles. The bitch book says he doesn’t deserve to hear from me. Look people, it’s cheaper and more entertaining than therapy!
Not that he did anything wrong or I did anything wrong. It’s just the timing. He has some personal issues that he didn’t foresee and now that life is too stressful I’m the easiest thing to let go of. I understand. Really I do. I can understand how a woman a thousand miles away is stressful. How someone who doesn’t need a thing, like a boob-job or mortgage payments or every spare second of your time is stressful. And the good news is that I’m taking it all in stride and not becoming bitter.
Seriously folks, there are no answers. There are just questions sometimes. And as my sister says “Sometimes there aren’t enough band-aids”. The hard part for all of us is the part where we miss our best friend. We miss the laughter and the banter and the last call or the last text (and if his DOB has an 8 as the 3rd number, you need to learn how to txt!) of the evening. And when you have such a good thing as we do/did, with never any fights and a lot of love, the pain is deep and the loss is sad. But there is always hope.
Time is a wonderful thing. We’ll either all move on or we’ll re-connect. Life is often defined in stages: Birth, Life, Death; a straight line. But as Will Smith said on Oprah (Are you KIDDING me? You don’t watch Oprah when you are depressed?) if you define life as Birth, Life, Death, Re-birth then, you have a whole new outlook. Just take the ends, bend the line, connect the ends and start all over.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Independent, Confident Women…So, you think you want one do ya?
By Crystal Laramore
Editing by Deborah Martin
Independent, Confident Women…So, you think you want one do ya?
If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times (from men): “I want an independent and confident woman” (IC). Really, because I seem to be hearing from my IC girlfriends and fans of the article that the men aren’t handling them very well. This is the mantra I’ve heard for years: “He says he wants an independent, confident woman but he gets upset whenever I cannot spend time with him or I have to attend to my business”.
So, back to you (men) and your desire to have an IC woman in your life; do you know that territory well? Let me help you. This will not be your typical relationship. It will be plagued with conversations like: Honey, I can’t make dinner tonight, I have a meeting. Honey, can you pick up the children; I’ve got to run the brokerage firm this afternoon. One of my staff members is sick today so I’ll have to work late, again. Sorry, I know we had plans; I’ll make it up to you.
It’s also plagued with conversation styles like: Baby, why don’t you go play golf with your buddies; I’ve got a luncheon with my girlfriends and I’ll be home late. Hey, I already fixed the dryer, what are you doing? Look honey, I moved the furniture all by myself! Baby, see all my new power tools? Honey, I’ve booked us an African Safari; No, the children are not invited.
Independent women are stubborn, tough as nails and decisive; some men might confuse this with being controlling-don’t fall for it for one second! As smart women we often see where things can be better, not only in our partners but in ourselves so we're quick to admit our faults and try to work on them. Occasionally we might slip and this is when we need you to be our great defender and understand we are coming from a place of love as well as a know-it-all attitude. We’re sorry but we are worth the frustration. We love and respect a man who also wants to improve himself and is not threatened if we gently point out an area of improvement he could make in his own life or his part of our relationship
I believe MOST of the independent women out there are over 40. Certainly women in their 20's are still trying to figure out who they are, what they want and whether or not they really are like their mothers. Women over 40 (and maybe late 30's) have already been through the career thing, the relationship thing, the mommy thing and are finally comfortable in their own skin. They know what kind of man they want for the second half of their lives and this is a good thing for men because we won't waste THEIR time if they aren't right for us whereas a younger woman WILL because she's still trying to change the guy or she’s waiting for him to live up to his "potential". An older woman knows that if a man over 40 hasn't lived up to his potential YET, then he probably never will and/or the “potential” was all in our 20-something mind in the first place. My dad sent me a card one time that read “If you love something set it free. If it just sits there on the couch unaware that it’s been set free, you’ve probably already married it”. Sorry. I couldn’t help it…
As we get older we jump to fewer conclusions, are slower to anger and we are more patient. I love what Andy Rooney has to say about older women:
“As I grown in age, I value women who are over 40 most of all. Here are just a view reasons why:
A woman over 40 will not lie next to you in bed and ask, “What are you thinking?” She really doesn’t care what you think.
If a woman over 40 doesn’t want to watch the game, she doesn’t sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it’s usually something more interesting.
A woman over 40 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she wants, and what she wants from whom.
Few women over 40 give a damn about what you might think of her or what she’s doing.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it’s like to be unappreciated.
A woman over 40 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women.
Women over 40 couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her.
Women get psychic with age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. They always know.
A woman over 40 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one.
You don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her. Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons.
Unfortunately it is not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well dressed hot woman of 40+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool out of himself with some 18-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” Here’s an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it’s not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage.”
We do want a man in our life but we don’t necessarily need him to define who we are. We need you for love, companionship, support, strength, leadership…Did you hear that? We want YOU to be our leader. Yes, we are independent and we are confident enough to want, nay expect, you to be our leader. We will not ask you to save us on a regular basis. It may happen a time or two (or three) and maybe, just once, kinda, sorta make it up so you get the chance to be something you LOVE to be – our hero! We’re also smart. We will definitely call on you in a true crisis; otherwise we are resourceful and you may never even know we knocked down the garage wall with our new car. (See my mom for more details!)
We will tell you what we want and when we want it. We will be direct so, be prepared: when you ask us what’s wrong, we’ll tell you. Not like when we were mere youngsters and always said, “Nothing” when you asked what was wrong and then we made you pay later because you didn’t read our minds. No, IC (independent and confident if you’ve forgotten) women don’t have a lot of time to waste playing patty-cake. We’d rather be spending time with you doing other things… And speaking of doing other things, we are fine alone. If you need to be off saving the world or tending to personal matters, you just go right ahead. We have plenty to do.
Lucky for you, you’ll never have to worry about an independent woman dragging you to a chick flick; we’ll go with our like-minded chick friends or we’ll be happy to go alone. We’ll save the action flicks for a hot date with you. And thank your lucky stars that we will not expect you to work yourself into an early grave so we can travel the globe. No, we will work too so we can retire early and travel the globe together.
We are also sexy, charming, great conversationalists, opinionated, secure in our skin and typically not jealous. If you think you’d be happier on the other side of the fence, we’ll give you a lift over it. We’ll be sad for all of a New York Minute and then be better off without you - at the spa; spas are great places to rub off dead skin and other unwanted surface matter. We’re confident enough to cry and joyous enough to laugh, and smart enough to love you the way you want to be loved.
We also want you to treat us like women, like ladies. We want you to open our doors, order our dinner, pick out the wine (Ok, on this one we may not be able to keep our opinions to ourselves), take off our coats, help us put them back on, slip off our shoes, pull out our chairs and stand whenever we need to get up from the table. We want you to speak to us with respect and dignity, love and consideration. We want to be romanced and put upon a pedestal. And guess what, we are worth every ounce of energy you put into our relationship. You’ll get back ten fold what you put into it, because we are also generous. But we are NOT pushovers. Never mistake our kindness for weakness, for we are very strong.
You can be proud to take us camping or to meet the President of the United States of America. We can wear jeans or a fur coat. Actually, they look really good together! We’ll stay at the Four Seasons or in a tent, as long as you are with us we really don’t care. Want to go fishing? We’ll be glad to go with you or happy to have you go with your friends. We’ll not dictate to you how to live your life. First of all, we trust that you already know how it should be lived and second of all, we don’t want you dictating to us. We’ll treat you with respect and kindness. We know you have goals and dreams just like we do and we’ll not stand in your way. We will ask you how we can help you be all that you can be.
But be ready for a passionate debate on important issues. We have strong minds and we will not sit quietly if we think we have something to add or if we think you are making a mistake. In the end though, your decision is final. We will not whimper around to get our way. We’re much too independent for that.
Our disagreements may be fierce but we do not hold a grudge. We want to win the war (you) and not the battle (the argument). We will be proud of your accomplishments, defend you in public and never humiliate you. We are not needy or desperate. Remember, we are independent and confident. It might be a recipe you’ve not had before but the ingredients sure make for a very happy, spontaneous, fulfilling life full of love, laughter, adventure and yes, romance.
We are as loyal as any golden retriever and we will trust you until you give us reason not to. However, I dare say that you’ll not find many truly IC women standing by their man after he has betrayed us. If you are a Bill Clinton or a John Edwards and you are married to one of us, you’ll find yourself alone at the press conferences; unless your mistress is there. Yep, while your treachery is being played out by the world-wide media, while you are at the podium pontificating on the woes of your life, lying through your teeth about when, where and how much money…we’ll most likely be with the d-i-v-o-r-c-e attorney.
And if you tell us you need your space, be prepared to feel like you are in the Astrodome alone. And be prepared that while basking in your new-found spacious life we may fill our space with new furniture. Careful what you wish for.
But, for you loyal, trustworthy ones out there, if you are lucky enough to find an Independent, Confident woman, put on your running shoes cuz we’re gonna let you do the chasing. And when you catch us you’ll find it’s a ride worth taking. Fasten your seat belts and don’t worry about the speed limit. I know the new Sheriff!
Editing by Deborah Martin
Independent, Confident Women…So, you think you want one do ya?
If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times (from men): “I want an independent and confident woman” (IC). Really, because I seem to be hearing from my IC girlfriends and fans of the article that the men aren’t handling them very well. This is the mantra I’ve heard for years: “He says he wants an independent, confident woman but he gets upset whenever I cannot spend time with him or I have to attend to my business”.
So, back to you (men) and your desire to have an IC woman in your life; do you know that territory well? Let me help you. This will not be your typical relationship. It will be plagued with conversations like: Honey, I can’t make dinner tonight, I have a meeting. Honey, can you pick up the children; I’ve got to run the brokerage firm this afternoon. One of my staff members is sick today so I’ll have to work late, again. Sorry, I know we had plans; I’ll make it up to you.
It’s also plagued with conversation styles like: Baby, why don’t you go play golf with your buddies; I’ve got a luncheon with my girlfriends and I’ll be home late. Hey, I already fixed the dryer, what are you doing? Look honey, I moved the furniture all by myself! Baby, see all my new power tools? Honey, I’ve booked us an African Safari; No, the children are not invited.
Independent women are stubborn, tough as nails and decisive; some men might confuse this with being controlling-don’t fall for it for one second! As smart women we often see where things can be better, not only in our partners but in ourselves so we're quick to admit our faults and try to work on them. Occasionally we might slip and this is when we need you to be our great defender and understand we are coming from a place of love as well as a know-it-all attitude. We’re sorry but we are worth the frustration. We love and respect a man who also wants to improve himself and is not threatened if we gently point out an area of improvement he could make in his own life or his part of our relationship
I believe MOST of the independent women out there are over 40. Certainly women in their 20's are still trying to figure out who they are, what they want and whether or not they really are like their mothers. Women over 40 (and maybe late 30's) have already been through the career thing, the relationship thing, the mommy thing and are finally comfortable in their own skin. They know what kind of man they want for the second half of their lives and this is a good thing for men because we won't waste THEIR time if they aren't right for us whereas a younger woman WILL because she's still trying to change the guy or she’s waiting for him to live up to his "potential". An older woman knows that if a man over 40 hasn't lived up to his potential YET, then he probably never will and/or the “potential” was all in our 20-something mind in the first place. My dad sent me a card one time that read “If you love something set it free. If it just sits there on the couch unaware that it’s been set free, you’ve probably already married it”. Sorry. I couldn’t help it…
As we get older we jump to fewer conclusions, are slower to anger and we are more patient. I love what Andy Rooney has to say about older women:
“As I grown in age, I value women who are over 40 most of all. Here are just a view reasons why:
A woman over 40 will not lie next to you in bed and ask, “What are you thinking?” She really doesn’t care what you think.
If a woman over 40 doesn’t want to watch the game, she doesn’t sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it’s usually something more interesting.
A woman over 40 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she wants, and what she wants from whom.
Few women over 40 give a damn about what you might think of her or what she’s doing.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it’s like to be unappreciated.
A woman over 40 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women.
Women over 40 couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her.
Women get psychic with age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. They always know.
A woman over 40 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one.
You don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her. Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons.
Unfortunately it is not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well dressed hot woman of 40+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool out of himself with some 18-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” Here’s an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it’s not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage.”
We do want a man in our life but we don’t necessarily need him to define who we are. We need you for love, companionship, support, strength, leadership…Did you hear that? We want YOU to be our leader. Yes, we are independent and we are confident enough to want, nay expect, you to be our leader. We will not ask you to save us on a regular basis. It may happen a time or two (or three) and maybe, just once, kinda, sorta make it up so you get the chance to be something you LOVE to be – our hero! We’re also smart. We will definitely call on you in a true crisis; otherwise we are resourceful and you may never even know we knocked down the garage wall with our new car. (See my mom for more details!)
We will tell you what we want and when we want it. We will be direct so, be prepared: when you ask us what’s wrong, we’ll tell you. Not like when we were mere youngsters and always said, “Nothing” when you asked what was wrong and then we made you pay later because you didn’t read our minds. No, IC (independent and confident if you’ve forgotten) women don’t have a lot of time to waste playing patty-cake. We’d rather be spending time with you doing other things… And speaking of doing other things, we are fine alone. If you need to be off saving the world or tending to personal matters, you just go right ahead. We have plenty to do.
Lucky for you, you’ll never have to worry about an independent woman dragging you to a chick flick; we’ll go with our like-minded chick friends or we’ll be happy to go alone. We’ll save the action flicks for a hot date with you. And thank your lucky stars that we will not expect you to work yourself into an early grave so we can travel the globe. No, we will work too so we can retire early and travel the globe together.
We are also sexy, charming, great conversationalists, opinionated, secure in our skin and typically not jealous. If you think you’d be happier on the other side of the fence, we’ll give you a lift over it. We’ll be sad for all of a New York Minute and then be better off without you - at the spa; spas are great places to rub off dead skin and other unwanted surface matter. We’re confident enough to cry and joyous enough to laugh, and smart enough to love you the way you want to be loved.
We also want you to treat us like women, like ladies. We want you to open our doors, order our dinner, pick out the wine (Ok, on this one we may not be able to keep our opinions to ourselves), take off our coats, help us put them back on, slip off our shoes, pull out our chairs and stand whenever we need to get up from the table. We want you to speak to us with respect and dignity, love and consideration. We want to be romanced and put upon a pedestal. And guess what, we are worth every ounce of energy you put into our relationship. You’ll get back ten fold what you put into it, because we are also generous. But we are NOT pushovers. Never mistake our kindness for weakness, for we are very strong.
You can be proud to take us camping or to meet the President of the United States of America. We can wear jeans or a fur coat. Actually, they look really good together! We’ll stay at the Four Seasons or in a tent, as long as you are with us we really don’t care. Want to go fishing? We’ll be glad to go with you or happy to have you go with your friends. We’ll not dictate to you how to live your life. First of all, we trust that you already know how it should be lived and second of all, we don’t want you dictating to us. We’ll treat you with respect and kindness. We know you have goals and dreams just like we do and we’ll not stand in your way. We will ask you how we can help you be all that you can be.
But be ready for a passionate debate on important issues. We have strong minds and we will not sit quietly if we think we have something to add or if we think you are making a mistake. In the end though, your decision is final. We will not whimper around to get our way. We’re much too independent for that.
Our disagreements may be fierce but we do not hold a grudge. We want to win the war (you) and not the battle (the argument). We will be proud of your accomplishments, defend you in public and never humiliate you. We are not needy or desperate. Remember, we are independent and confident. It might be a recipe you’ve not had before but the ingredients sure make for a very happy, spontaneous, fulfilling life full of love, laughter, adventure and yes, romance.
We are as loyal as any golden retriever and we will trust you until you give us reason not to. However, I dare say that you’ll not find many truly IC women standing by their man after he has betrayed us. If you are a Bill Clinton or a John Edwards and you are married to one of us, you’ll find yourself alone at the press conferences; unless your mistress is there. Yep, while your treachery is being played out by the world-wide media, while you are at the podium pontificating on the woes of your life, lying through your teeth about when, where and how much money…we’ll most likely be with the d-i-v-o-r-c-e attorney.
And if you tell us you need your space, be prepared to feel like you are in the Astrodome alone. And be prepared that while basking in your new-found spacious life we may fill our space with new furniture. Careful what you wish for.
But, for you loyal, trustworthy ones out there, if you are lucky enough to find an Independent, Confident woman, put on your running shoes cuz we’re gonna let you do the chasing. And when you catch us you’ll find it’s a ride worth taking. Fasten your seat belts and don’t worry about the speed limit. I know the new Sheriff!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Date Great in Oh! Eight
Sex in the Woods
by Crystal Laramore
Happy New Year! Let’s start the New Year off by saying that while dating can be fun it does take some effort to find the one.
My friend Richard from Sugarland met a woman, Sophia, online (yes, a viable option) who lived about an hour away. While they had many hours of great conversation, saw each others photos, met in person and genuinely seemed to hit it off, the one-way hour-long drive was just too much for him. He later said that dating just seemed to be more work lately than fun. Poor, poor Richard.
Most things in life that are worth having are worth a little extra effort to obtain. C’mon guys, don’t be lazy Richard for Pete’s sake.
If you find a woman that moves you; shifts the dirt under your boots a bit and its reciprocal then put some petro in that auto and drive man, just drive. Driving a good distance to see a woman who sets your heart aflame or at least cooks well, cleans well, brings home some of the bacon, looks attractive and isn’t crazy, is the very least you should be doing. Women may be easy to come by but GOOD women…
And speaking of women being easy to come by; my friend Richard says he just sits back and waits for the women to come by. They come by his way and ask him out! This has got to stop. Women today are far too aggressive and are making the dating life harder (as if we needed things harder) for women with more traditional dating habits.
Ladies, if you want him there is nothing wrong with doing everything in your infinite power to attract him; but it is unwise to chase him unless it’s just instant gratification you are after. However, if you are after more than a romp in the woods, let him chase you. Just ask the women chasing Richard “How’s that working for you?” He’s had several flings with several aggressive women. Did you hear me? I said flings. He even had one long kiss goodnight w/promises of more, a lot more, next time and he has yet to call her back. Why?
In Richard’s mind he knows he’ll just be using her and is starting to feel a little guilty about the whole situation he has found himself in as of late. It’s a little disconcerting for him. Why? Because it’s not the natural order of things! “Hold on to your anxiety and do not call him” is the advice from my psychologist friend, Dr. Sophia. Women’s lib is good for some areas of our lives, but not in the dating arena of the Animal Kingdom.
Women’s lib never intended for things to go this far. And lib is short for liberation. Sorry, but I do NOT want to be liberated from being treated like a woman, thank you very much. Nor do many of my girlfriends. As a matter-of-fact, I am hard pressed to name a single (straight) woman who does.
While the feminist movement has helped fix a lot of workplace inequities it has also helped screw up the way many women view men and our relationships with them.
Godmen-have you heard of it? I saw a special on Nightline. Apparently, we now have to have an organization to let men know its ok not to be so feminine and in touch w/your feelings and just be a man. Hello! What have I been saying? Most all-American hot-blooded women do not want their man in touch w/HIS feminine side…(please tell me you get the intimation…).
Again, I implore you to let the natural order of things in The Animal Kingdom occur. We have a test-pilot program going and here are some mistakes made last week by the women in the program:
#1: Richard called Sophia four times. At ten o’clock when she was finished working she returned the calls. (So far so good.) Richard was at the deer lease ‘hanging out’ and wanted Sophia to come ‘hang out’ too. His family and friends were there. She felt so warm & fuzzy by this invitation that she lost her freaking mind and went. (This is the ‘not so good anymore’ phase). Hanging out does not a date make. If you have to get in your car and drive to him think about it. Turn the car around and ignore his calls from now on. This is ok behavior after you have been dating for several months, but the first six???
#2: Richard called my girlfriend Sophia on December 30th. They were chatting and Richard did not mention a thing about the really big romantic, earth shattering kiss at midnight event suddenly approaching. Evidently the event was approaching fast and w/out warning for poor Richard who seemed to have forgotten the event all together. So Sophia, being the helpful little calendar that she is, asked Richard what he was doing for New Year’s Eve “Spending time with my children” so says Richard.
Ok, if you buy that. First of all, he could be telling the truth or his version of it. Second of all he could be sparing her feelings. Third of all, they just met and it’s none of her business what he’s doing for NYE unless he invites her to join him. Fourth, why oh why do we as women set ourselves up for rejection? If the man does not ask you out it is because he does not want to spend time with you! So let him ask you out; by let I mean give the man some time; don’t rush a good thing. They have egos too. Sometimes they just want to make darn sure there is no chance in Mars that you will reject them before they even say “wanna get a cup of coffee?”
If he asks you out you’ll feel so much better and he’ll feel so much better and the natural order things will have occurred in the Animal Kingdom, the lion will roar and you will like it!
by Crystal Laramore
Happy New Year! Let’s start the New Year off by saying that while dating can be fun it does take some effort to find the one.
My friend Richard from Sugarland met a woman, Sophia, online (yes, a viable option) who lived about an hour away. While they had many hours of great conversation, saw each others photos, met in person and genuinely seemed to hit it off, the one-way hour-long drive was just too much for him. He later said that dating just seemed to be more work lately than fun. Poor, poor Richard.
Most things in life that are worth having are worth a little extra effort to obtain. C’mon guys, don’t be lazy Richard for Pete’s sake.
If you find a woman that moves you; shifts the dirt under your boots a bit and its reciprocal then put some petro in that auto and drive man, just drive. Driving a good distance to see a woman who sets your heart aflame or at least cooks well, cleans well, brings home some of the bacon, looks attractive and isn’t crazy, is the very least you should be doing. Women may be easy to come by but GOOD women…
And speaking of women being easy to come by; my friend Richard says he just sits back and waits for the women to come by. They come by his way and ask him out! This has got to stop. Women today are far too aggressive and are making the dating life harder (as if we needed things harder) for women with more traditional dating habits.
Ladies, if you want him there is nothing wrong with doing everything in your infinite power to attract him; but it is unwise to chase him unless it’s just instant gratification you are after. However, if you are after more than a romp in the woods, let him chase you. Just ask the women chasing Richard “How’s that working for you?” He’s had several flings with several aggressive women. Did you hear me? I said flings. He even had one long kiss goodnight w/promises of more, a lot more, next time and he has yet to call her back. Why?
In Richard’s mind he knows he’ll just be using her and is starting to feel a little guilty about the whole situation he has found himself in as of late. It’s a little disconcerting for him. Why? Because it’s not the natural order of things! “Hold on to your anxiety and do not call him” is the advice from my psychologist friend, Dr. Sophia. Women’s lib is good for some areas of our lives, but not in the dating arena of the Animal Kingdom.
Women’s lib never intended for things to go this far. And lib is short for liberation. Sorry, but I do NOT want to be liberated from being treated like a woman, thank you very much. Nor do many of my girlfriends. As a matter-of-fact, I am hard pressed to name a single (straight) woman who does.
While the feminist movement has helped fix a lot of workplace inequities it has also helped screw up the way many women view men and our relationships with them.
Godmen-have you heard of it? I saw a special on Nightline. Apparently, we now have to have an organization to let men know its ok not to be so feminine and in touch w/your feelings and just be a man. Hello! What have I been saying? Most all-American hot-blooded women do not want their man in touch w/HIS feminine side…(please tell me you get the intimation…).
Again, I implore you to let the natural order of things in The Animal Kingdom occur. We have a test-pilot program going and here are some mistakes made last week by the women in the program:
#1: Richard called Sophia four times. At ten o’clock when she was finished working she returned the calls. (So far so good.) Richard was at the deer lease ‘hanging out’ and wanted Sophia to come ‘hang out’ too. His family and friends were there. She felt so warm & fuzzy by this invitation that she lost her freaking mind and went. (This is the ‘not so good anymore’ phase). Hanging out does not a date make. If you have to get in your car and drive to him think about it. Turn the car around and ignore his calls from now on. This is ok behavior after you have been dating for several months, but the first six???
#2: Richard called my girlfriend Sophia on December 30th. They were chatting and Richard did not mention a thing about the really big romantic, earth shattering kiss at midnight event suddenly approaching. Evidently the event was approaching fast and w/out warning for poor Richard who seemed to have forgotten the event all together. So Sophia, being the helpful little calendar that she is, asked Richard what he was doing for New Year’s Eve “Spending time with my children” so says Richard.
Ok, if you buy that. First of all, he could be telling the truth or his version of it. Second of all he could be sparing her feelings. Third of all, they just met and it’s none of her business what he’s doing for NYE unless he invites her to join him. Fourth, why oh why do we as women set ourselves up for rejection? If the man does not ask you out it is because he does not want to spend time with you! So let him ask you out; by let I mean give the man some time; don’t rush a good thing. They have egos too. Sometimes they just want to make darn sure there is no chance in Mars that you will reject them before they even say “wanna get a cup of coffee?”
If he asks you out you’ll feel so much better and he’ll feel so much better and the natural order things will have occurred in the Animal Kingdom, the lion will roar and you will like it!
A Man's Point of View
Sex in the Woods
by Crystal Laramore
So, some of you out there are actually reading my new column! Cheers!
One of my faithful readers, Joe from Conroe, had some comments regarding the first article:
“From a man's point of view, this article was giving away secrets that everybody knows (if that makes any sense). It kind of portrayed men as mindless predators, which for the most part is true; true for all men at one time or another. There is definitely a deeply suppressed desire to impregnate as many women as possible. Any sex therapist will tell you that.
“So, secrets about women that everyone knows? You do actually have to listen to her once in awhile. No, not every word but enough to be able to ask her a question or two about the story she just told while you were missing the opening kickoff. A simple ‘How do you feel about that, honey’ or ‘That reminds me of the time we...’ will score brownie points like you've never seen. Another priceless move is to actually ask her about her day BEFORE she starts telling you about it! Precede that with how good she looks and you'll most likely be more than set up for bedtime. Now for the biggie: This is a little known secret even among men and I hate to give it away but here goes; Next time she's slaving over the stove or the washing machine FOR YOU, instead of slapping her on the butt or grabbing her bosom, try massaging her shoulders or running your hand up her neck and through her hair and whispering ‘Thank you.’
“Am I right, Crystal? I guess the readers will be the judge of that,
if any of this makes it in your column.”
Well Joe, it did make it in the column and now for fair & balanced reporting:
My first thought is no, Joe. You are not right. You are trying to pass along Tarzan’s error-proof recipe for sex (in the woods). So when my friends Richard and Richard were in the restaurant, I was discussing Joe’s comments and relaying the vibe I was getting. The message I thought Joe was sending was that these are “moves”, as he said. He also said there is no need to listen to EVERY word, just enough to getchaby. Joe also gave a roster of sentences engineered to score you brownie points. Although I thought all of this was good info I just didn’t like the packaging.
My friends Richard and Richard said they completely disagreed with my assessment of Joe’s comments. From the male point of view, they said, since the only times men aren’t thinking about sex is when they’re having it, any small bit of finesse from a man should count as the equivalent of Jesus and Mohammed sharing a glass of Manischevitz. Basically, if a man puts any more effort into his seduction of you other than just easing the La-Z-Boy back and yelling, “Hey, c’mere,” then he’s doing his honest best to be a kind and tender custodian of your womanly needs. This just goes to show that men and women really are from different planets!
So guys take Joe’s sage advice and ladies, do not get offended, and just enjoy the experience whenever he’s savvy enough to pay attention…
by Crystal Laramore
So, some of you out there are actually reading my new column! Cheers!
One of my faithful readers, Joe from Conroe, had some comments regarding the first article:
“From a man's point of view, this article was giving away secrets that everybody knows (if that makes any sense). It kind of portrayed men as mindless predators, which for the most part is true; true for all men at one time or another. There is definitely a deeply suppressed desire to impregnate as many women as possible. Any sex therapist will tell you that.
“So, secrets about women that everyone knows? You do actually have to listen to her once in awhile. No, not every word but enough to be able to ask her a question or two about the story she just told while you were missing the opening kickoff. A simple ‘How do you feel about that, honey’ or ‘That reminds me of the time we...’ will score brownie points like you've never seen. Another priceless move is to actually ask her about her day BEFORE she starts telling you about it! Precede that with how good she looks and you'll most likely be more than set up for bedtime. Now for the biggie: This is a little known secret even among men and I hate to give it away but here goes; Next time she's slaving over the stove or the washing machine FOR YOU, instead of slapping her on the butt or grabbing her bosom, try massaging her shoulders or running your hand up her neck and through her hair and whispering ‘Thank you.’
“Am I right, Crystal? I guess the readers will be the judge of that,
if any of this makes it in your column.”
Well Joe, it did make it in the column and now for fair & balanced reporting:
My first thought is no, Joe. You are not right. You are trying to pass along Tarzan’s error-proof recipe for sex (in the woods). So when my friends Richard and Richard were in the restaurant, I was discussing Joe’s comments and relaying the vibe I was getting. The message I thought Joe was sending was that these are “moves”, as he said. He also said there is no need to listen to EVERY word, just enough to getchaby. Joe also gave a roster of sentences engineered to score you brownie points. Although I thought all of this was good info I just didn’t like the packaging.
My friends Richard and Richard said they completely disagreed with my assessment of Joe’s comments. From the male point of view, they said, since the only times men aren’t thinking about sex is when they’re having it, any small bit of finesse from a man should count as the equivalent of Jesus and Mohammed sharing a glass of Manischevitz. Basically, if a man puts any more effort into his seduction of you other than just easing the La-Z-Boy back and yelling, “Hey, c’mere,” then he’s doing his honest best to be a kind and tender custodian of your womanly needs. This just goes to show that men and women really are from different planets!
So guys take Joe’s sage advice and ladies, do not get offended, and just enjoy the experience whenever he’s savvy enough to pay attention…
Cyber Dating
Sex in the Woods
by Crystal Laramore
Let’s talk about cyber space dating: Since we live in the woods it’s kind of hard finding someone to date; it’s not like being in a big city where single people are around every corner. It’s like being in the woods where everyone is married to someone you know!
So, I joined YAHOO!Personals for a test drive. Interesting. Out of 145 profiles they sent my way I was interested in 5. You 5 know who you are. Last week I said men should do the majority of the calling, but what about in cyber dating? Do women really want to give thier number to strangers? TOTAL strangers. Not only are they strangers, but some are not close to who they say they are. My friend Sophia got an email from Richard and his picture looked like an ad for Armani suits. Richard said he was a jewelry designer and originally from Italy and wrote in such poor English one minute and fluent the next…we decided something was amiss. When Sophia asked Richard for some more photos, like in casual settings or with friends and family, he closed communication.
Maybe there should be an exception about calling in this environment. I have given out my business telephone number twice. You can also block your number when you call. And, this is what I’d do at the very least; can someone say “background check”? Now, don’t go doing a background check on every person you meet in cyber space, but certainly on the ones you open communication with and certainly before it goes to the intimate stage.
Last week we discussed men and how they like challenges and things that are difficult. By that I meant difficult like in stick shifts,
When I say that men like difficult I don’t mean difficult women. My friend Richard said that there are a lot of physco women out there. Well, I wondered what he meant by physco and he explained that two dates does not a relationship make. And if he doesn’t call you-please, don’t call him, and call him, and call him, and call…
Don’t Google his address, drive by his house to see if he’s home or has someone else there. Don’t show up where you know he hangs out. Just let it go! Seriously, why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with them? Our lives are so much more harmonious when we are in symbiotic relationships.
Beautiful, insecure women are not attractive. An average, secure woman will beat her hands down every time. Move on ladies, there are plenty of men out there.
Spilling the beans: Ladies, give the new man in your life little peeks into your psyche, no need to do a total mind dump on him in the first ten minutes. Breathe! There is no need to tell him all your wonderful qualities in a 30 second commercial. You are not a candidate running for office. You are a prize trophy that he will hunt, in less than perfect conditions, to catch. You are not there to scream “pick me, vote for me”, you are there to show him, little by little, that you can keep him challenged for more than a nano-second.
How does all this come about? SLOWLY! But first ladies, you must set some guidelines for yourself and the relationship. Remember he’s the hunter, so let him do the hunting. This translates into he is the one to make the phone calls, he picks you up for dates, he plans the dates and did I mention he makes the phone calls? If ever you find yourself dialing his number decide whether you want him to be Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now. The woman walking down the isle did not do the hunting. That couple is symbolic of hunter and prey. And if she’s smart, he’ll still be hunting her long after the honeymoon.
I am the owner and executive chef of a successful restaurant. We serve gourmet food. I cannot remember the last time I cooked dinner for a man; unless I saw him at the restaurant on Thursday-Saturday evenings between 6&10 pm. Sometimes, I even instruct the staff to give them a check. The point is not that I’m desperate for cash, the point is that he needs to be desperate to show me he is worthy of a (free) meal that I have slaved over a hot stove in a hot kitchen to prepare or paid my staff to prepare, either way…
Women tend to show all their cards on the first round while men keep their cards close to the vest.
Cleopatra had a muse. She went to her muse to find out how to capture the attention of her prey (Cesar). The muse asked what kind of man he was. Cleopatra answered that he was a conqueror. The muse said simply, “Then always let him think there is more to conquer”!
If the natural order of things occurs; like women allowing men to hunt, the men will make the woman happy. Men enjoy pleasing women. I hear it all the time. Cuz when mama’s happy, everybody’s happy and when mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!
by Crystal Laramore
Let’s talk about cyber space dating: Since we live in the woods it’s kind of hard finding someone to date; it’s not like being in a big city where single people are around every corner. It’s like being in the woods where everyone is married to someone you know!
So, I joined YAHOO!Personals for a test drive. Interesting. Out of 145 profiles they sent my way I was interested in 5. You 5 know who you are. Last week I said men should do the majority of the calling, but what about in cyber dating? Do women really want to give thier number to strangers? TOTAL strangers. Not only are they strangers, but some are not close to who they say they are. My friend Sophia got an email from Richard and his picture looked like an ad for Armani suits. Richard said he was a jewelry designer and originally from Italy and wrote in such poor English one minute and fluent the next…we decided something was amiss. When Sophia asked Richard for some more photos, like in casual settings or with friends and family, he closed communication.
Maybe there should be an exception about calling in this environment. I have given out my business telephone number twice. You can also block your number when you call. And, this is what I’d do at the very least; can someone say “background check”? Now, don’t go doing a background check on every person you meet in cyber space, but certainly on the ones you open communication with and certainly before it goes to the intimate stage.
Last week we discussed men and how they like challenges and things that are difficult. By that I meant difficult like in stick shifts,
When I say that men like difficult I don’t mean difficult women. My friend Richard said that there are a lot of physco women out there. Well, I wondered what he meant by physco and he explained that two dates does not a relationship make. And if he doesn’t call you-please, don’t call him, and call him, and call him, and call…
Don’t Google his address, drive by his house to see if he’s home or has someone else there. Don’t show up where you know he hangs out. Just let it go! Seriously, why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with them? Our lives are so much more harmonious when we are in symbiotic relationships.
Beautiful, insecure women are not attractive. An average, secure woman will beat her hands down every time. Move on ladies, there are plenty of men out there.
Spilling the beans: Ladies, give the new man in your life little peeks into your psyche, no need to do a total mind dump on him in the first ten minutes. Breathe! There is no need to tell him all your wonderful qualities in a 30 second commercial. You are not a candidate running for office. You are a prize trophy that he will hunt, in less than perfect conditions, to catch. You are not there to scream “pick me, vote for me”, you are there to show him, little by little, that you can keep him challenged for more than a nano-second.
How does all this come about? SLOWLY! But first ladies, you must set some guidelines for yourself and the relationship. Remember he’s the hunter, so let him do the hunting. This translates into he is the one to make the phone calls, he picks you up for dates, he plans the dates and did I mention he makes the phone calls? If ever you find yourself dialing his number decide whether you want him to be Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now. The woman walking down the isle did not do the hunting. That couple is symbolic of hunter and prey. And if she’s smart, he’ll still be hunting her long after the honeymoon.
I am the owner and executive chef of a successful restaurant. We serve gourmet food. I cannot remember the last time I cooked dinner for a man; unless I saw him at the restaurant on Thursday-Saturday evenings between 6&10 pm. Sometimes, I even instruct the staff to give them a check. The point is not that I’m desperate for cash, the point is that he needs to be desperate to show me he is worthy of a (free) meal that I have slaved over a hot stove in a hot kitchen to prepare or paid my staff to prepare, either way…
Women tend to show all their cards on the first round while men keep their cards close to the vest.
Cleopatra had a muse. She went to her muse to find out how to capture the attention of her prey (Cesar). The muse asked what kind of man he was. Cleopatra answered that he was a conqueror. The muse said simply, “Then always let him think there is more to conquer”!
If the natural order of things occurs; like women allowing men to hunt, the men will make the woman happy. Men enjoy pleasing women. I hear it all the time. Cuz when mama’s happy, everybody’s happy and when mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!
Dating in the New Millennium
Sex in the Woods
Like many of you out there I’m single, over 35 and dating in the new millennium. While I find dating fun & exciting I also find it extremely frustrating; most of the time I feel like I’m in the wood forest all alone. So I’ve been doing what I always do when I find a particular subject frustrating and hard to understand; I head to Barnes & Noble. There are a gazillion books on the “How to’s” of dating. Some of the principles I’ve put into practice and find they work quite well. Others, not so well. Did I mention I’m still single? Still single and still learning…
It all goes back to our basic, primal instincts; men are hunters and women are gatherers. Men find challenge in the hunt, not so much in the capture. Men are after an adventure, a wild ride that lasts for more than a few hours, yes even in dating; especially in dating.
My girlfriend Sophia writes:
“I just made some basic mistakes in my last relationship. We’ll call him Richard. Now, I started out fine playing by the unspoken rules of courtship but, like most women, as soon as he made the ‘I want a commitment statement’ I lost my senses and became more caring, sensitive to his needs, supportive of his hopes and dreams, emotionally dependent; for me=relationship; for him=steel trap! Everything was going fine until I was vocally upset when Richard didn’t call for a few days. I did exactly what I knew not to do; I started every question with either what, where, when, why, how could you… That was the beginning of the end. He was hunting and I was prey until that very moment. Then he knew I was caught so the game was over, (either consciously or subconsciously). It happened again but this time it was six days without a call and over a holiday…I knew Richard would drag me along this way, not wanting to end it totally until he had a replacement, so before I became road-kill, I ended it.”
Richard was good practice and maybe with the next Richard she’ll make it to the next phase, you know, like in Mario!
Take heed ladies! Women tend to not want a challenge. They don’t want to “play games”. Well, if you want your man to hunt you, you must not let him catch you. If he does not have a 100% hold on you, he’ll think of you all day and may even lose sleep thinking of you. Not only will he think of you but he will court you. Richard courted Sophie like nobody’s business until she broke the un-spoken rule.
My brother David just went hunting, as most men in North America did, over the Thanksgiving holiday. He shot a doe and was semi-gleefully walking out of the woods when the proverbial “Big One” appeared through the mist, between the trees. He put Big One in his scope, took a deep breath, said a prayer to God almighty, squeezed the trigger and missed.
Now remember, he killed the doe with no apparent hyperventilating. But the Big One, well David was panting and shaking, his chest was heaving, his palms were sweaty and he was in such a state of euphoria that he couldn’t get a good shot and he missed him. Why did he not hyperventilate over the doe? Because does are always about; they’re in abundance; one is just like the other. But the Big One, well the Big One is elusive. Hunters dream of the Big One. When you look across the breakfast or dinner table at your mate and he’s deep in thought and you ask him “Honey, what are you thinking about?” He’s thinking about The Big One! The Big One dares the hunter to take a shot, “Catch me if you can”. I think sometimes he even winks at the hunter, then slowly sachets away deep into the forest as if saying “Better luck next year”.
And believe me, this same time next year David will still be telling this story. Every detail of the Big One will be forever etched on his brain; right down to how beautiful the white patch of fur was on the front of his neck…Be the Big One ladies; practice being elusive. When the moment isn’t right or when your boundaries are being tested, practice turning away and disappearing into the woods. If he wants you, he will search the woods for you.
Like many of you out there I’m single, over 35 and dating in the new millennium. While I find dating fun & exciting I also find it extremely frustrating; most of the time I feel like I’m in the wood forest all alone. So I’ve been doing what I always do when I find a particular subject frustrating and hard to understand; I head to Barnes & Noble. There are a gazillion books on the “How to’s” of dating. Some of the principles I’ve put into practice and find they work quite well. Others, not so well. Did I mention I’m still single? Still single and still learning…
It all goes back to our basic, primal instincts; men are hunters and women are gatherers. Men find challenge in the hunt, not so much in the capture. Men are after an adventure, a wild ride that lasts for more than a few hours, yes even in dating; especially in dating.
My girlfriend Sophia writes:
“I just made some basic mistakes in my last relationship. We’ll call him Richard. Now, I started out fine playing by the unspoken rules of courtship but, like most women, as soon as he made the ‘I want a commitment statement’ I lost my senses and became more caring, sensitive to his needs, supportive of his hopes and dreams, emotionally dependent; for me=relationship; for him=steel trap! Everything was going fine until I was vocally upset when Richard didn’t call for a few days. I did exactly what I knew not to do; I started every question with either what, where, when, why, how could you… That was the beginning of the end. He was hunting and I was prey until that very moment. Then he knew I was caught so the game was over, (either consciously or subconsciously). It happened again but this time it was six days without a call and over a holiday…I knew Richard would drag me along this way, not wanting to end it totally until he had a replacement, so before I became road-kill, I ended it.”
Richard was good practice and maybe with the next Richard she’ll make it to the next phase, you know, like in Mario!
Take heed ladies! Women tend to not want a challenge. They don’t want to “play games”. Well, if you want your man to hunt you, you must not let him catch you. If he does not have a 100% hold on you, he’ll think of you all day and may even lose sleep thinking of you. Not only will he think of you but he will court you. Richard courted Sophie like nobody’s business until she broke the un-spoken rule.
My brother David just went hunting, as most men in North America did, over the Thanksgiving holiday. He shot a doe and was semi-gleefully walking out of the woods when the proverbial “Big One” appeared through the mist, between the trees. He put Big One in his scope, took a deep breath, said a prayer to God almighty, squeezed the trigger and missed.
Now remember, he killed the doe with no apparent hyperventilating. But the Big One, well David was panting and shaking, his chest was heaving, his palms were sweaty and he was in such a state of euphoria that he couldn’t get a good shot and he missed him. Why did he not hyperventilate over the doe? Because does are always about; they’re in abundance; one is just like the other. But the Big One, well the Big One is elusive. Hunters dream of the Big One. When you look across the breakfast or dinner table at your mate and he’s deep in thought and you ask him “Honey, what are you thinking about?” He’s thinking about The Big One! The Big One dares the hunter to take a shot, “Catch me if you can”. I think sometimes he even winks at the hunter, then slowly sachets away deep into the forest as if saying “Better luck next year”.
And believe me, this same time next year David will still be telling this story. Every detail of the Big One will be forever etched on his brain; right down to how beautiful the white patch of fur was on the front of his neck…Be the Big One ladies; practice being elusive. When the moment isn’t right or when your boundaries are being tested, practice turning away and disappearing into the woods. If he wants you, he will search the woods for you.
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