Category Archives: dating

Be Kind

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Julie Andres 1959. Photo Credit: 1stdibs

You wouldn’t believe the number of people who approach me and say how timely our business is. The whole MeToo movement, and all. Oddly enough, even though we are a women’s empowerment company, and having been raped myself possess an intimate understanding of the trials and hardships involved; I’ve never zeroed in and tried to push our presence within the movement. The business was started before the movement, not because of it. 

We are here to support women, not capitalize from their pain. Ours aren’t viral quotes slapped onto t-shirts. Our messages are hard-lived, intelligent and far from flippant. And our clothes are quality pieces, responsibly sourced from company’s with ethical work practices. We’ve chosen to empower from thread up. 

Most of all, we are here for all women, regardless of who they are, where they live, how much money they make or the level of education they’ve received. We don’t care the size, shape or ethnicity. We know, first hand, that we’re all one – and we’re not the product of our past. We are not what has been done to us, and we are not what has been said about us. That’s where the rebel kicks in. I come from a long line of rebels. And I think every woman needs to dig deep and find the rebel within. And in doing so, rebel against the idea that they are not enough.

I had someone once say they love one of our pieces, the one that reads: Believe In Yourself – you are enough. Except, she said, it needs to read: you are more than enough. I get what she was saying. However, what she was saying goes against one of the pillars with which we’re built. I want us to stop measuring ourselves. Plain and simple. Once you realize that you are enough – you’ve always been enough – it was how you were born – it is how you will always be – stay there. 

Once you incorporate the word “more,” things get dicey, things get judgy. It’s sly and insidious, but trust me on this one, once you start considering yourself to be more of anything, than the voice in your mind also begins to toy with the notion that you are less. But when you are – enough – you are enough. You are not barely enough. You are enough. 

I don’t know why all of this is on my mind so heavily today. Perhaps because as I continue to grow this company, the pressures begin to mount; the forks in the road become a bit more stressful. Go this way for more money, or this way for more purpose. I’ve never been ruled by money, I generally choose purpose and let the cards fall where they may. And my purpose in investing all that I am and all that have in this company is to help women to be kinder to themselves; to stop judging themselves so harshly. Once we are kinder to ourselves, we are naturally kinder to others. And in that we help to empower everyone. 

It takes great strength to be kind. Especially in a world where kindness is seen as weakness. But believe me, it takes phenomenal strength, often warranting reaching mega deep within one’s self, to be kind in the face of adversity or fear. Anyone can be a jerk. The world is filled with people behaving as jack-asses. Doing so is easy. So, as you embark on your weekend think about being kind. When the voice in your head is critical of you or others – don’t reward it with your attention. It’s merely the weakest muscle responding from habitual use – it’s a habit. Be good to you. At your core you are pure positive energy; love. Tap into it, even if it takes a bit of reaching. In time, it’ll get easier. In time those muscles will grow. And in time, it will be your new habit and oh, how good it will feel.

Sane

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Intellectual Symmetry

I’ll be damned. I just discovered I’m a sapiosexual.

Sapiosexual/Sapiosexuality (sā-pē-ō-sĕk-shü-ăl’ĭ-tē). A behavior of becoming attracted to or aroused by intelligence and its use. Origins: From the Latin root sapien, wise or intelligent, and Latin sexualis, relating to the sexes.

Had I known this core truth about myself years ago, it would’ve saved me two failed marriages; not to mention, a few misaligned hook-ups. But as things go, it takes time to discover something of this magnitude. I believe in the power of contrast. I feel it is why our world is so vast in nature. To develop a true understanding of one’s inclinations, desires and dreams, one has to be given a chance to sample the buffet that is offered in this world. Unfortunately, this sampling doesn’t happen quickly, or in a benign manner with plate in hand, ambling along a long table of life’s choices. Usually we find ourselves bound by a contract to someone we are quite certain is the anti-Christ or at least a first cousin thereof, and seated in a job that sucks the very marrow from our bones.

Once the realization is made however, it is up to us to choose differently – next time. Steering ourselves away from what we know we don’t want, and toward that which we feel we do. Even then, more tweaking might become necessary. Life isn’t black and white. Our choices are made out of many.  Even within the field of “getting warmer,” honing of our desires is vital. Not to find perfection. But to find true symbiotic harmony.

Romantically speaking, I refuse to sit across from a man whom I do not find intellectually stimulating. And as much as it may seem unnecessary to possess such an attribute for a simple romp in the hay – it still is for me. Where I’m concerned, foreplay isn’t simply the bandying about of sensual words. No. To me, nothing is more enticing than listening to a man share his intelligence. Not with false bravado and a look-at-me persona, but simply possessing profound knowledge within his field. A man who is good at his craft is an attractive thing. We are all artists, if what we do, we do well and with skill. I am not concerned about his profits. On the other hand, I do have great concern for his integrity, enlightenment and keen intellect.

Not all women are sapiosexuals; for that I’m glad. Let the others glean out the one’s with six-pack abs. A healthy fit body, yes. But one that is carefully carved – not necessary. The only way to open the floodgates of my passions and my body is through my mind. Which admittedly, is a bit impervious. However, such a feat is highly possible; providing one is clever enough to Spiderman their way up the wall.

As we age, it seems the majority fall into one of two categories: the earnest pursuit to fill a void by stuffing it with sexual pursuits or finding intellectual symmetry with another. I am tempted to rule one as better than the other, but who am I to say. Each of us is on a journey. And the journey should not be judged. With that said, I am pleased that I will no longer accept a copilot who doesn’t also see a similar horizon and the same peculiarities along life’s path. He’s out there, this person. Most likely with his nose buried in the map.

Sane

On Dating a Writer

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My father, regardless of having just stated something incomplete, would often end his proclamation with the words: Period. End of sentence. My love of words was not fostered by his approach. However, my love for expression was.

I was speaking with a friend the other day. On the subject of the opposite sex he said, “Dating you requires a lot of responsibility. They want to, but quickly discover they can’t.” As you can imagine, I mulled his words over considerably. He was right.

I would like to say dating a writer is like dating anyone else. But it’s simply not so. That would be like saying driving a cargo van is like driving a sports car, or bicycling provides the same ride as a motorcycle. Oddly enough, when we crawl behind the wheel of a curve hugging coupe, rarely do we later fault it for hugging the corners tightly. And yet, it is known by my writing colleagues that the desire to date a writer is strong. But once settled in with one of us sitting beside them, they wonder why we think so much.

I had this happen recently while on an outing. This person placed on the table an incomplete situation. And, like my father, wanted for many reasons to put a period on the end of the sentence; regardless of its fragmented state. The woman I am, and the writer that lives within quickly flicked his purposeful period aside, and wanted to delve into the subtext; knowing lighter times, closure, or advancement is found upon doing so. This person whom sought out and pushed hard for a moment with me said, “You think too much.”

Please know dear readers, thinking is my bread and butter. But also, it is the crux of who I am. As kind as my words may be, the voice in my head rarely edits itself. After he spoke, I cast a glance to my side at his profile, and thought, “No shit Sherlock.”

I only know the thoughts of the writers within my close circle. One thing these gifted souls have in common is they are quite real. They express the whole of who they are. Perhaps due to the courage it takes to write, or the process of giving of oneself in this most intimate venue, we tend not to feel the need to veil ourselves. Generally, we can speak freely about most any subject without inhibition, fear or insecurity. What you see is, undoubtedly what you get. But we are without question a cerebral bunch. And often, our mind is the gatekeeper to our passions. If the mind is not properly enticed, the body refuses to follow suite. Unless of course enough wine has been introduced to the situation. In which case, even a tree begins to look handsome. A human flaw, most all possess. Coyote ugly extends both ways. To our credit, we usually pass out before entrapment occurs as our mind tends not to let us off the hook then either.

So to anyone considering sliding behind the wheel and taking a writer out on the open road, please remember – you wanted the experience. Do not fault us for not having enough storage space. Do not critique us for not being able to amble up a sandy hillside with big, knobby tires. We aren’t geared for those discoveries. Generally speaking we hit the long and winding road, and we do so with precision and acceleration. The hum under our tires rolls us toward our destination. But more so, the rhythmic sound of pavement unfurling underneath, will continually cause you to think as well. We have no desire to change our make and model – and never will. Of course, with that said, once you relax – its one hell of a ride.

Sane

The Kooks – Do You Wanna

Good Sex

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Chemistry is a magical component, an organic, ethereal, emotional stirring. Not to be confused with familiarity, which can harvest similar feelings. Familiarity will always accompany a union that has chemistry. But sadly, familiarity has no power to summon chemistry. I wish it did.

I have felt chemistry toward a man who is my friend, all the while feeling none for my date. A dreadful reality that no amount of wine can rectify. Trust me, I’ve tried. As we age, especially women, rarely do we want to explore the realms of physical intimacy unless the exploration will produce the appropriate, well anticipated, breathtaking, muscle pulsating response. Faking such a response simply because we are tired of the movements, is always a last resort. With that said, there are no unrealistic expectations in this regard. Sometimes good lovers arrive with momentum; time is needed. Their passion, like good wine, needs to breathe.

But do know this, sex is just as important to a woman as it is to a man. We may approach it from different directions, but we want very much to arrive at the same destination. And once there we also want to light the proverbial cigarette, taking a long drag, with an equally long exhale afterwards. And when that doesn’t happen, we lay awake all night wondering if we should give it another try or run like hell.

There is no toy, or trick that can simulate the profound power of sexual chemistry. Some people, without even meaning to, possess it regardless of being attracted to anyone. It is part of their essence. It is who they are. For others it is only released like the gentle smoke from a genie’s bottle. Often, my words stir the sensuality in others, and this often leads to a good deal of curiosity as to me as a lover. If I had a dime for every man who wanted to taste my wine, I would be a very wealthy woman. Not because I am breathtaking in appearance, but because the curiosity gets the best of them. It is true, I am an intensely passionate woman; evidenced by my writing, my style and the thoughts I release. And yet, my passion is like that of wine in a bottle waiting for the right hands to tip it gently into the glass where it can come to life. Those are rare hands.

I do not regret the times when I too step out in curiosity. Life is to be experienced; touched, tasted and savored. This can not happen unless we grab on to something, even if for a brief moment, and pull it close. And when we do, we decide to keep it or place it back down. Generally speaking, my inner being speaks forcefully on the subject – recently, keeping me up throughout the night as it repeated its mantra of deflated analysis. Sometimes we grab something solely because the actions of which force us to let go of something else. In an effort to push someone out of our life, we do so by placing our hands on another. Even though we know, and our inner being confirms, our hands won’t be there for long.

My hands are free at the moment. I’ve sampled. I’ve put back. And after a sleepless night, I reached back out to the one that I tried to push away. The mind may attempt to force upon us a certain person, place or thing. Yet the inner being, if not smothered, will remind us that life it to be felt deeper. Rarely is the mind and body alone able to bring about the true depth and wonderfulness that is to be experienced. We need all three. Just as chemistry is the force that opens the floodgates of sensuality between lovers, it is also the force that brings all things to life. It is the stuff that propels us, just as it propels that which is in the galaxies and the tide to move seemingly of its own accord. When we are on the right road, the chemistry swirls beneath our feet, behind our eyes and within the words we speak. And quite frankly, I see no reason to be on any other road.

Sane

Written to: The Heavy – What Makes a Good Man

Lawn Mowers and Roosters

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Many years ago while living in Phoenix, Arizona I had a roommate. She was younger than me by quite a few years. She was also hopelessly in lust over a man who used her only for the sake of convenience. She, on the other hand, couldn’t see past her hormones. For her birthday I took her to an adult store, and bought her a vibrator. Even though I’ve always been exclusive, and a bit of a recluse, I’m far from a prude. In fact, quite the opposite.

I told her that when she wants a man in her life, it shouldn’t be out of desperation. It should be out of pure want. Compromising herself due to primal desire, had left her feeling as though she was less than. In the end, it always does. Suffice it to say, after that, there were many nights when I would hear what sounded like that of a lawn mower humming in the bedroom next to me. But  in the process, she stopped waiting for that man’s beck and call. No one should be waiting for someone’s beck and call. Man or woman.

When I take on a partner, it isn’t out of need. It is out of want. The difference is rather profound, and not just to a logophile like me. To the best of my ability I try to leave desperation on the doorstep when I enter any situation. If I feel I need something, then my energy shifts. I’m no longer coming from a place of balance.

Love has a tendency to flutter precariously with the makings of need. When we allow someone into our heart, they form a space. From that moment on, we want only to feel that space filled in its entirety. And when they pull away, we hurt. It is for that simple reason that many people are resistant to allow anyone into their heart, their mind, their world. Because the absence of them is the stuff of misery. But I don’t believe it has to be that way.

I believe we can let someone in, and instead of carving out a space within our heart, better that they expand that which already exists. True, if they leave, their will be pain. But pain is inherent to living. It happens even when we guard ourselves against it. It is a factor we can’t avoid if we are to live. Its like never heading out to the beach for fear it might rain. I don’t want to miss the sunny days, out of fear that the clouds will set in.

For the most part, this is how I try to approach life. The people in my world are there out of choice. I want them there. Need will always rub up against love. But if we are to look at the world as in positives and negatives, good and evil, then to want is godly, to need is to dapple in the negative. Desperation sits opposite of confident hopefulness. The one makes us feel good, the other makes us feel vulnerable.

I’ve long lost touch with that old roommate. I do hope though that when she spends time with a man that she does so as his equal. Both with equal desires, equal value and equal wants. I was recently on a date that made me smile. From early on it felt as though we were two roosters, neither would back down. But in the end, no one walked away feeling desperate. And it was out of want that we met again. But those situations are highly charged and quite rare. They can lead to euphoria if allowed. Or, two roosters simply kicking dirt at one another until dusty and tired. I hope with all that I do, within my books, these quirky posts and my spoken words I help to remind us to choose hopefulness over desperation – every time. The one builds us up, the other tears us down.

So as with love and with life, I say, go after what you want.

Sane

Out On The Water

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To you, my dear readers, I will admit something. Having been urged to try the online dating world, I succumbed and now find myself wading knee-high through its waters. But those who know me, will not be surprised to hear that I did not dive in blindly. Not only are my eyes open, but mine are not the only eyes through which I see.

Rarely do I waste my time. I keep myself held distant from most and do so for many reasons. But to an extent, my approach is not a healthy one. And so with that, I grabbed a snorkel and suited up. But I didn’t jump into the water alone. I have an army of swimmers gliding along beside me, dunking their heads in, and reporting back what they’ve discovered. When surveying the waters, I do so carefully and thoroughly. Having an arsenal of close friends on the site with me, some having already been on well before me, some joining afterward – we are able to glean out quite a few fish.

One could say that what we’re doing is a set up. Perhaps. But no more than a man telling a woman something endearing, solely to convince her to sleep with him, all the while he is saying the same thing to another. I feel, that is a set up.  Even in the world of online dating, a bit of honesty is still required. At least, by me.

Maybe it’s because I’m such a passionate person, but I can’t seem to open the floodgates of my sexuality when the relationship isn’t exclusive. I’m trying to ease the gate open, but am struggling in this regard. I’ve never been a willy-nilly have sex with just-anyone kind of person. I need to loosen my rules a bit. I should step away from my femininity for a while and motor through men simply for  immediate, physical gratification. I should buy an economy pack of condoms, and head out into the waters. Heaven knows, I am tempted. But to do so, I need to detach from my emotions. There are two ways in which I can have sex: purely physical, or giving myself over to the moment completely: body, mind and spirit. I can’t do the latter if I think I am one of many. I’m considering however, culling my skills at doing the first. Not because I am a loose woman. No. But because I am unfathomably the opposite. And at times, a person needs to loosen up a bit; detach from their emotions and swim naked for awhile. I tend never to do this as I value myself to a great extent. If I am not treated with value, I always walk away. This makes blatant sex, for the sake of sex, difficult to do. But I’m working on it.

I haven’t decided how long I will remain on this site. Its an interesting experiment and exploration into the human psyche and behaviors. At times its deflating. At other times its quite sweet. I think for many it is an addiction. I’m not ready to bring my surveillance operation to a close just yet. I am watching over my friend’s candidates and they are watching over mine. In fact, due to this watchfulness, a friend was shown that the fish she caught was not hers and hers alone. It seems he tried to jump into my boat.

When it comes to fishing, I’ve never cast a net and trolled the waters. I’m a very specific fisherman. I don’t want to throw a bucket of bait off the side of the boat and scoop up all I see. When I set out to reel something in, it is done with clear intent. The problem is, that intent has to work both ways. I’m not an habitual fisherman. When I head out, my plan isn’t to come home with a bucket of fish; its to land that special catch.

I will keep you posted on my foray into the open seas of online dating. I have a feeling there will be a couple raids taking place shortly. As I’ve noticed we’re all getting a bit antsy to move on. But for the time being my boat is anchored, I’m looking out onto the horizon and paying attention to what I see. Maybe, just maybe, the one bringing his head above the water occasionally, will be the one I want to take home. Time will tell. I have a cooler full of beer and plenty of friends on the boat with me. I can wait.

Sane

New Shipments Arriving Daily

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It seems amongst the dating world of those in their forties and beyond, most everyone is searching for – the one. Or at least, this is what has been told to me. Gone are the days of commingling simply for a nice evening out or to cultivate new friendships.

From what I’m learning, singles are getting tired of the dating routine and fodder altogether. And due to such, they’re hoping to see that one stand-out person walk into the room. I would’ve thought that with age, and all the cynicism that tends to come with it, the belief in that one magical partner would’ve diminished. The reality is, not only has it not diminished, it’s intensified.

There are so many avenues by which to meet someone. The most peculiar being online dating. It makes perfect sense though. However, to me, it feels much like that of shopping. And I have to wonder if there’s not a certain numbness and detachment that’s formed from trolling through so many people. Knowing that at one’s fingertips is the ability to scroll through pages of prospective candidates, does it not take away from the one candidate they are currently getting to know. Surely it must.

The human psyche is so often captivated by the prospect of new possibilities. So when using this medium to find the one, does the mind ever fully turn off the light, and close the door to the store? I don’t know. It is a rare bird that does not want to peak back onto the shelf to see if a new shipment has arrived.

I can’t help but to wonder how having access to such a plethora of possibilities plays into the task at hand, which if I’m not mistaken, is to find the perfect partner. An enormously lofty task, in and of itself.

I’ve never thought I would one day see my life’s partner magically waltz into the room. Perhaps this is because I feel it takes time for the person who is hidden within to find their way out and beyond the protective coating with which most everyone surrounds themselves. Often a person reveals their most captivating qualities at the most unexpected times, not upon first glance.

I feel there’s few things more wonderful than experiencing a man once his carefully applied veneer has been removed. Generally speaking, I’m not one for shiny exteriors, in the first place. I want to see, and get to know the fibers that created the person. These are not the things revealed while shopping online. No. They are only revealed after time. God knows, I don’t want to make my purchase only to discover it was nicely camouflaged particle board. Often it isn’t until we’ve taken something home, and had time to inspect it fully, that we discover what’s hidden underneath the shellacked surface. My hope is that when I do, I will see mahogany, walnut or cherry.

I realize that in this regard I’m probably a bit old-fashioned. But I do feel although at first we are taken in by one’s appearance, it is only after peeling back the many layers that we find – the one.

Sane

Listening to The Whigs – Waiting