Um...oops

So I know we all decided for my dating health I should never write about my lovelife here again but...I'm feeling like to close out that chapter of my life of attracting dark men like my father, and to give you the bookend insight to my life...I should do ONE more LONG ass post.

What do you think?

So I know I'm dumb at dating and all...

But if the handsome sweet actor guy in his 30s who delivers your food remembers you every time and keeps repeating "If there's anything you need help with, any HELP"...and introduces himself and shakes your hand and is happy you have fierce dogs to protect you...that puts him in the "he's into you" zone, right?

Charmed and enchanted by me? Wants to protect me, wants to save me...not your average LA male actor, right?

Maybe he can help me finish my taxes.

Maybe he can help me eat all this food.

Maybe he can help me be less retarded at dating (and I mean retarded in the dictionary sense...I'm quite behind the rest of my schoolmates).

I might have to be ordering more takeout.

I just learned a life lesson from One Tree Hill

That's such a fucking wrong sentence. Nonetheless:

"Sometimes the beauty is in the attempt. We gave it everything we could, but it just didn’t work out."

Oh, and they had ANOTHER truth we already know:

HALEY: What’s the first thing I taught you about writing?
SAM: Tell the truth.



And yes I'm still drunk. Shut up. You with your happy happy life, and your frequent sex. Fuck off.


Now I'm watching HOUSE. And thinking about how I used to happily poledance to the themesong.

WILSON to House: I don't want you to be fine, I want you to be happy.


Happy. Everyone's bloody happy.

Seriously, where is MY happy life? Where, I ask ye...And how is it fair that I've had sex in my LIFETIME less times than Dr. Oz recommends IN A YEAR?*

I had a psychic tell me five years ago I was going to get cancer if I didn't start having sex, and I've STILL only had sex seven times since then.

I am soooo going to die of cancer. And tearful masturbation.

Sigh.


Did anyone else watch the BATTLESTAR GALACTICA series finale and think that the guy who played Sean Ellison should be my husband? Smitten, adoring puppy-dog eyes and all?


* The answer: 200 times a year.

"If you have more than 200 orgasms a year, you can reduce your physiologic age by six years," Dr. Oz says, basing this number on a study from researchers at Duke University who surveyed people about the amount and quality of sex they had. "They looked at what happened to folks that are having a lot of intercourse over time, and the fact is, it correlated." Frequent sex helps prove that your body is functioning as it is supposed to. "But in addition, having sex with someone that you care for deeply is one of the ways we achieve that Zen experience that we all crave as human beings," says Dr. Oz. "It's really a spiritual event for folks when they're with someone they love and they can consummate it with sexual activity...seems to offer some survival benefit."

EDIT: I guess you're really supposed to count the ACTUAL number of times you've had intercourse, which means I could double my number. Still nowhere near 200 times a year. Though then it seems the important thing is that you've had an ORGASM, which is dumb of Dr. Oz to equate with penetration for women....cut my number in half again...but then add on oral sex...and that Jeremy gave me two dozen orgasms in one night with his amazing hands...and I guess masturbation doesn't count as orgasm becuase I don't get the "zen experience we all crave as human beings".

This math is WAY too confusing and depressing, and still adds up to me dying from not having enough soul-connected sex. Fuck you all and your happy zen sex. Fuckers.

This sex is on fire

Being a trained musician makes you a better listener, more sensitive lover. Good news for my datees.

A Wrinkle in Time

I've been really really good about not sharing details about my love life, oui? Yes, I've noticed the steady decline in readership, you jackals, but none the less...preserving sanity and having a good life are paramount.

But I just HAVE to share this itty bitty tiny kernal.

I received an intriguing-feeling, smile-inducing email today through a matchmaking site from a handsome man just a couple years older than me who lives about 5 miles away and...get this...is a 100% compatibility match.

I'm pretty sure on this site I've never had above, like 94%. Pretty sure.

So if a wormhole opens up and disrupts the space-time continuum in the next week, it may just be us getting within ten feet of each other. Even if it's just close enough to lob our address books at each other, exchanging friends' phone numbers. Or exchanging clothes and deciding to play Freaky Friday on our loved ones.

Carolina Liar

Wait, I'm wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I'll be strong
I'm finding it hard to resist
So show me what I'm looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I'm lost
Oh lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for…oh lord

Don't let go
I've wanted this far too long
Mistakes become regrets
I've learned to love abuse
Please show me what I'm looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I'm lost
Oh lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for…oh lord

Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for

Paris, Je T'aime

I feel almost as much love for this little movie as for the magnificent city itself. It's free on instant view Netflix, check it out. Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous.

"I ache for who we were."

I have an innate distrust of anyone who doesn't LOVE Paris. And even more of people who hate it. I just wonder at their ability to feel, or to love.

So pretty - Coldplay

If you love me
Why'd you let me go?

I took my love down to Violet Hill
There we sat in snow
All that time she was silent still

So if you love me
Won't you let me know?

If you love me,
Won't you let me know?

MEME: 10 Films to judge a suitor by

In honor of Filmthreat's list, what are the top ten movies you judge a suitor or good friend by? You know, like if they don't LOVE this film, you kinda think...mmmnnn we don't have so much in common.

TAG! You're all it.

And I'M going to practice being mysterious. Suck on that.

What do men want?

Can't win for losing.

Sooo...guys are strange.

A guy I dated for about a month got skittish and broke it off because I wrote that I liked him on my blog. LIKED him. He still wants me now of course, three years too late.

So I learned not to say I liked anyone.

Then another guy lost interest because he read both my preferred requirments and my list of 100 things about me. No conversation or negotiation, just ended. So I learned not to answer 25 questions about me on Facebook (so stop asking).

I blogged about a man I had unrequited feelings for, and received a painful confession of love from a good friend. And a date offer from two others.

I blogged about a guy dying to be blogged about, who was then pissed about what I wrote and that it was a poem.

I blogged about a first date but the guy was upset it WASN'T a poem. And the other guy I was dating at the same time lost interest.

I blogged about blowing off steam in Europe and a relative called me a whore.

I didn't blog about a guy I had a first date with who prepped by reading my archives, thus he decided I don't like him.

Soooo...they want to be special, they don't want me to be special, they want me to examine them, but then freak out at what I see...


Do you get where I'm going with this?


I know you all LOVE hearing about my little anthropology experiments and my thoughts about bumblings towards ecstasy, but it seems to be hurting my lovelife. No matter what I do. And um...I love you guys, but guess what's more important to me?

I don't see how Carrie ever got Mr. Big this way. I call shenanigans.

Valentines thoughts

SYMPTOMS OF LOVE
by Robert Graves

Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.
Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;
Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:
For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.
Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers


Sappho's immortal poems are difficult to translate. What is freaking amazing is how many other gifted poets have done so, including Lord Byron and Tennyson. Check out this amazing web page with dozens of translations of the same gorgeous Poem of Jealousy. Just stunning artistic work about our shared humanity, and the different creative takes on it. And thanks to the incomparable Robert McKee for calling my attention to the poem in the first place in his new Romance Genre screenwriting day. At the moment, Paul Roche's is my favorite:


POEM OF JEALOUSY
He is a god in my eyes, that man,
Given to sit in front of you
And close to himself sweetly to hear
The sound of you speaking.

Your magical laughter — this I swear —
Batters my heart — my breast astir —
My voice when I see you suddenly near
Refuses to come.

My tongue breaks up and a delicate fire
Runs through my flesh; I see not a thing
With my eyes, and all that I hear
In my ears is a hum.

The sweat runs down, a shuddering takes
Me in every part and pale as the drying
Grasses, then, I think I am near
The moment of dying.

Things I can't say to him

Ilsa: I wasn't sure you were the same. Let's see, the last time we met...
Rick: Was La Belle Aurore.
Ilsa: How nice, you remembered. But of course, that was the day the Germans marched into Paris.
Rick: Not an easy day to forget.
Ilsa: No.
Rick: I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.

Rick: Tell me, who was it you left me for? Was it Laszlo, or were there others in between? Or - aren't you the kind that tells?

Rick: It's funny about your voice, how it hasn't changed. I can still hear it. "Richard, dear, I'll go with you anyplace. We'll get on a train together and never stop - "
Ilsa: Don't, Rick! I can understand how you feel.
Rick: [scoffs] You understand how I feel. How long was it we had, honey?
Ilsa: [on the verge of tears] I didn't count the days.
Rick: Well, I did. Every one of 'em. Mostly I remember the last one. The wild finish. A guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out.



Oh my god, have you ever stood with a comical look on your face as your insides were kicked out?

I did once. Only I was sitting, in a thirty-year-old car. When he said "I'm so glad I met you" and then threw us away in the gutter. You'll see it in THE COMMUNE.

That's the thing about the one without the power. They remember that day, every detail, for the rest of their lives. Replaying over and over again what they should have done to get a positive result, looking in their beloved for ANY shred of a proof of love...a hand on the knee, a kind smile, a hesitation...

And the beloved goes on with their life with all the power and no need to ever remember. You think Ilsa knows she wore blue that day? Or knows how many days were together?

No. It was over for her the moment she walked away. The guilt might have stung every once in a while, but no compulsion to burn the details into the worn grooves of their brain. Her guts weren't spilled in the streets, begging to be sloppily shoved back inside and stitched with answers that will never come; never be understood.

She might feel bad about being perceived as a bad person and spout platitudes and apologies never backed by actions over the years...but anyone who feels love isn't the one who makes the choice to piss on it. No. The Ilsas never think of coming back to you, and they certainly never think of you with any sense of connection or belonging. You're just another fellow traveller.

Ah, romantic love. How we Europeans and Americans idolize it so as the only thing worth living for, when the suffering over it is a pain beyond bearing.

To infinity and beyond

Big Bro and his Fies avatar creations in MOM'S CANCER are featured in a new book on the top 60 Graphic Novels of all time. Check out his post. Thanks to the alphabet, the family tome is listed after MAUS.

That's really nice.


You know, it got back around to me a decade ago that my ex-boyfriends were bragging about having slept with a Power Rangers stuntwoman. I wonder if now the lucky few brag about having slept with an Eisner-award winning comic character...

Great compliment

Someone told me last week my grin reminded him of Steve McQueen. How cool is that? Pretty smart thing to say to me.


So next time you Hollywood types are bitchin you can't find a Steve McQueen to cast, think of me.

Aargh

Broke my favorite pair of glasses today, and can't find a replacement pair online. So I'm off to a date in a much more expensive yet far inferior pair. Drat, I hate that. Feel off like I'm wearing a broken heel or something...

If I can ever find my USB cord, I'll upload the photo of the new haircut/color today for the shoot next week. Good timing, boy oh boy. It's shagelicious, and my favorite datee loves brunettes. Hopefully I can wrap the shoot and see him before the color fades.

Ohhhh such a glamorous life, guerilla filmmaker...

Stupid

Okay, I apparently make friends with EVERYONE in elevators. The rest of you don't do this? I didn't realize that. Just had a lovely. hysterical conversation with a gentleman going down, and another one with a lady going up. See, my elevator rides always end up being laughfests with strangers.

So I get asked out by hot single men in elevators because statistically, some of the human beings I ride with are going to hot single men. Question below answered; moving on.

Why do I...

keep getting asked out in elevators?

That's not some zen koan...at this point I'm truly, sincerely, wondering what's *ahem* up.

I've been *ahem* elevated to this whole new dating world, in which it's such a candystore out there I now don't even have to leave my apartment building to meet totally quality menfolk. Or apparently even shower. Though that's not really news to me; it's always been a befuddling irritant that I get asked out more in no makeup and sweat pants.

I suppose it's like my dating strategy of keeping a little extra weight on: it sorts out the riff raff.

You wouldn't even believe me if I described the last elevator encounter. Okay, I'll try. Vaguely, to protect the innocent and smoking hot.

I was sweaty from being in the basement storage area getting props for the film, and Mr. foreign-accent-my-age-writer-producer-at-glamorous-Hollywood-company is quizzing me about who I am, making sure I know he lives in my building, stooping over to pick up the photographs I dropped everywhere... Huh?

Wow. I wonder what would happen if I did a little experiment and ran around town one day riding in elevators. And I could try all sorts of different kinds of buildings to catalog the men, and see who comes up with the coolest date idea for us. How fun!

For you daters

Was taken to Campanile on Third and Fairfax. Thoroughly enjoyed the company, marathon of wit, delectable European-style dining (slow and teasing), and sitting two feet from the director of "LA Confidential" as I discussed pre-production on my directorial debut.

Reminded me of the great winery eats from my hometown, minus the genius auteur clientelle. Well, that's not true. NoCal has a few roaming genius auteurs, but they shuffle around in Birkenstocks and don't have the rest of the patronage stopping by their table to brown-nose for three hours. It must be a chore to be beloved.

Manifestation 101

I'm 8.5 pounds down. Sweet.

Through a date I had a few weeks ago, I realized some important things and have made some big changes in my life. I'm totally clear on what I want to manifest:

To share my life with a partner. I want to meet that person I'll love for a lifetime.

What I'm looking for?

Top three? Social, happy, sweet.

Monogamous. Has chemistry with me. He's actively pursuing some avocation he loves - even if not making money at it yet. Supportive. We spur each other on in our respective creative ventures. Kind. Proximity, at least part of the year. Fun and quick to laugh. Genuine. Not hung up on materialism, popularity, surface. Strong and secure. Turned on by a dame with brains. Feminist. A foodie. Romantic and gentle in bed. Always kissing me, and likes to hold hands. Wants to leave the world a better place. Not sure he wants kids. Loves to travel. Cherishes me. Is open and authentic with me. Believes in himself and gets pleasure from being a good man.

Dealbreakers? Smoker. Drugs. In debt and not working on it. Doesn't want me as much as I want him. Lack of courtesy. Doesn't get along with my friends.

Have to think about it more. I'm not a big believer in lists. The only things my exes had in common was their uniqueness and passion for me.

But I met someone great I would have had a second date with, and his dealbreaker was living two hours apart. Important to know. See, I would love having one great date a week and sending a romantic letter or a couple emails in between. It would help keep me from falling for him too fast, and at the same time I tend to fall in love in men's absences. If things worked out and we were exclusive? His city was already on my list of places I'm looking at moving to. If I thought it was a soulmate thing, two hours is childsplay. A fun challenge to make me creative. I can be reallllly creative. And fun.

What seems totally doable and a goofy excuse to one person is death to another. You can rationalize it all you want, but you can't convince someone out of their dealbreaker. You just walk away and go meet someone else. I'm learning. Learning not to be a romantic.

What are your preferred qualities and dealbreakers?