What Men Want. . .

I still take issue with Mel Gibson and his rants but I do enjoy watching What Women Want from time to time. I thought about that movie when I read a column last night in The Daily Mail UK. Tracey Cox, a columnist for the paper, has had a couple of interesting topics in the past week. The first one I read discussed the age old question; can men and women really be friends? while yesterday’s column was discussed what men wanted in women.

I could write volumes on my experiences with men as friends and as well as my thoughts on what they want in a mate. Actually, scratch that, I could write volumes on what NOT to do when it comes to the opposite sex. As Stace says, I have the most rotten luck when it comes to dating.

But let’s focus on the column Ms. Cox wrote . . . I have always been in the camp that believed most men wanted leggy model types. The reality shows us that the world isn’t overrun with model types but after years of watching movies, tv shows and perusing magazines we have forgotten this tidbit. Instead, we pluck, shave, highlight and diet 98% of our lives away. We strive to become these characters we watch and read forgetting that they have the help of a trainer, stylist, lots of money, lighting and the all important airbrushing.

Per Ms. Cox, several studies have been conducted to find out what it is exactly that men want in women. I was actually speechless when I read that most men are interested in the spark, an emotional connection instead of sexiness. I have been operating under the guise that it was looks first, then personality. While I will never be sexy (kind of hard when you look like you are 12 years old without makeup) my personality is kind of kick ass. Well, my personality works well with a guy’s guy. The bluntness and crassness seems to be polarizing to some guys but I won’t change my personality just to make them more comfortable.

It turns out that there are guys out there that want the nice girl. Of course if we were simply surveying the guys in my past the results would be different. I am completely honest about my penchant for bad boys. While I have grown up and moved on from that, it seems I still can’t pick a guy to save my life. Even when things *seem* perfect; the relationship ends, sometimes by my doing and sometimes their doing.

A blip on my relationship radar recently has reinforced that just maybe I am not meant to have that other half. He was a great friend, we spent a lot of time together just hanging out. As usual, I was the last to know that he might be interested. As Bubba put it, “Gee, I didn’t see that coming out of left field,”  dripping with sarcasm. Apparently everyone who knew us saw it coming, why no one clued me in on this little tidbit I will never know.

Unfortunately, just as quickly as it happened it ended. An ex-girlfriend came back into the picture and he went running back. Of course, there is a lot more to the story but I will refrain. I had heard a lot about their relationship from him and I likened it to the one I had with Bubba. A drama filled, roller coaster relationship where each person brought out the worst in the other with a lot of the past times that were once good thrown in for good measure. Needless to say, this knocked me on my ass and confirmed my thoughts on dating.

I guess the worst part has to be I was completely content being single when I moved back home. I was just so freakin’ happy to be back, with my circle of friends and everything that I loved that I didn’t really care about being single. I loved being around my guy friends, being myself (that kick ass personality that per the article stated men cared more about) that I didn’t care that nights out meant coming home to only a cat. None of that matter because I had forgotten what it was like to have someone around in that way. And really, what you don’t know is missing will not be missed.

We both shared there had been flashes of something *more* but he wanted to be completely done with his ex before moving forward. Me? I didn’t know what I was missing and I didn’t think he would be interested. He told me one night that it was over, he was done with the roller coaster; I took it in, not really knowing what to think or say. Then it happened and since we already knew each other’s story . . . we skipped that whole awkward beginning of a relationship. And I was happy, disgustingly happy. He was surprisingly open, kind, sweet and thoughtful. Sure, I knew what kind of guy he was before but when you cross the friend line, you see a whole other level.

Since I hadn’t seen this coming a mile away, I most definitely did not see what was coming next. The drama roller coaster came skidding up in front of him and he hopped right back on board. I was knocked down, just like Charlie Brown while trying to kick the football and lost a great guy and a friend. The real kick in the pants comes from my personal experience with the on again, off again relationship. I know that nothing I say will make a difference. He’s stubborn like me and will keep trying to shove that square peg into the round hole. I also see what my friends saw when I was going through this a million years ago. As a friend, I feel completely helpless because I can’t make him see reason. Actually, you do see reason, even agree with it but you keep waiting for the same effort to return a different result. Square peg, round hole.

As a more than a friend, I am heartbroken that this destroyed our friendship, I miss him and once again wish that none of it had happened. Now knowing how fun it was, how it just made sense and that it was actually very easy to cross that line makes me mad and disappointed in myself. I knew better but for once I had been completely willing to be open, no prying necessary.

So I did giggle when I started reading Ms. Cox’s columns . . . friends of the opposite sex can be friends but you both have to respect that the line is there for a reason, if you risk crossing that line, you have to be willing to sacrifice that friendship and while it has been assumed that you need to be perfect, men are just looking for what we are looking for. . . a nice person that you can connect with, have fun and be comfortable around. And here I have been so worried that I couldn’t pull off the sexy vibe.

And yes, I still wish that our mutual friends would have smacked me upside the head so I would have seen any and all of this coming. He was quite unexpected and I think that is what cuts the deepest. Good times. And probably by tomorrow, men will decide they want something totally different. I happen to think they are worse than women in some aspects.

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I Do!

I got a kick out of the article I stumbled across last week on the Daily Mail website. A divorced mother of two decided to commit to herself after reflecting on her life. As she stated in the article, she wanted to take responsibility for the happiness in her life.

Okay, I can get behind that, but having a ceremony and gifts? Maybe I am just a bit jealous seeing as how I have yet to get close to even planning a wedding, but this non-conventional commitment ceremony seems a bit over the top when you include a formal event with gifts. I believe my friends would have me committed if I decided to throw that out.

I am single, painfully single sometimes, I understand the importance of not letting the singleness get to you. I love to go out to eat but if I waited for a time that would work for friends or family, I would probably only get out once a month. While I am not keen on taking myself out on a Friday or Saturday night, the rest of the week is wide open. It is a wonderful way to have a nice meal where I am not stuck doing the dishes and I get to indulge in two of my favorite things: eating and reading.

I should take note from the woman in the article though, she will tell herself (while looking in the mirror) that she is beautiful. I think every woman should do this. I spend more time criticizing myself than anything else and really, if I have to spend time with a grumpy spinster, I should at least flatter her.

While all of this might seem silly to those that are married or have been married, I will say that never having that experience can be a sad thing. I appreciate my family and friends saying it isn’t all that, or look at the pluses on your side! But as I have said to them before, they have experienced all of that, I haven’t, so I will take it with a grain of salt.

But on the other hand, my dates with myself are a lot of fun and I don’t walk away from a fun night with myself wondering if I will get asked out again. That is what I hate about dating. And I hate the whole I had fun line, we need to do it again, only to never hear from him again. Seriously, I believe there was an episode about that on Friends. I also remember that Chandler (the character, not my Chandler) ended up pissing off Rachel and he was handcuffed to the desk for some time.

Don’t Hate Me Because I Am Beautiful

Sometimes a post can just write itself, which in my book, is a good day. From the ever esteemed newspaper across the pond, The Daily Mail, a poor, put upon beauty named Samantha Brick wrote a piece the other day about how hard it is to be oh so beautiful. Apparently she is gifted all kinds of things from men whom she doesn’t know and women are completely jealous of her.

Oy Vey! Seriously? This has to be a horribly timed April Fools post because I don’t think I have ever read such drivel in my life. Well, maybe if I looked at a teen girl’s journal, I might see something just as bad. . . but probably not. The cherry on top was her rebuttle article after she recieved many not so nice comments on the article as well as Facebook. Brick even tried to explain that Londoners just don’t get it but having lived in Hollywood for a time, they do.

Now let me back up, I have never thought of myself as beautiful. Cute, sure. Dorky, oh hell yeah. And there are the times when I put forth a huge effort and have been complimented. Which I appreciate and the blush like there is no tomorrow. I am who I am and worrying about it seems silly. And I don’t think there was a time ever when I thought of myself as sexy. That has to do with looking like a kid, acting like an adolescent boy and tripping over my own two feet.

I also think beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Thank goodness that it seems the whole of London has the same damn pair of eyes since men send alcohol to her table at restaurants. Sam, can I call you Sam? Good. Sam, even with my average looks, when I used to go out, there were times when someone sent me a drink. Big freakin deal. Just a few short years ago I had a cute whipper snapper, eight years younger than moi, canoodle with me for a few months. But do I chalk that up to I must be just oh my goodness, sooooo beautiful!

And about that Hollywood thing. Sweetie, you do realize that is the land of make believe, right? Charlie Sheen went off the deep end last year and ran around LA shouting WINNING and drinking Tiger Blood. D-Listed reguarly features some woman they call Chicken Cutlets (aka Pheobie Price) and she claims to be some super dooper model. Hell, there are still a few paps around that will take Paris Hilton’s picture. So I wouldn’t be bragging about how comfortable people are with your beauty. People are paid in LA to tell someone just how wonderful they are, how the world would end without them and they say yes to every request or thought. Why? Because it’s a paycheck baby! And let’s not forget that it is also the land of the crazies, drug addicted, alcohol addicted, sex addicted, let’s go to rehab type of place.

No my dear Sam, people aren’t jealous of you. More than likely your winnning personality sets their teeth on edge and they are glaring at you because you are just that obnoxious. It is fine to have self esteem but you my sweet little flower, are no super model. Nor are you someone that I would immediately think, gee! I wish I looked like her!

Oh and a little tip for you. One of the pictures in your article shows a noticible pooch; get some Spanx and that should smooth it out. Just saying, from one normal looking girl to someone who is just so “beautiful.”