The Wonderful World of Blogging

Zero comments. On every post. This is how I know I'm an optimist. Because, everyday I log onto this blogspot with the hope of seeing a comment. In a world where bloggers are a dime by the dozen, how does anyone get their blog read?

I'm going to try and not let this discourage me, because I know it's normal and that something like this takes time. Maybe when I get a dot com site up and running, I'll get more traffic. Who am I kidding? More traffic? Maybe I'll get traffic.

The Truth About Mr. I'm Not Sure

So, as I've written in my earlier post, I'm dating a Mr. I'm Not Sure. What this means is that essentially he has not given a clear and definite answer as to whether he wants more children. My friend Jay X says this is unacceptable. And I tend to agree. Key word being tend. Jay says that I shouldn't settle for anyone that isn't passionate about having a family. But this is where I disagree with Jay. I mean, honestly I'd be okay if someone would give me a child, not so much because they wanted to, but because they knew I did and they knew it would make me happy. Such arrogance. But really, it's true. Blame it on my Aries Moon. And the truth is, things mostly fall into the grey category, rather than black or white.

Right now, Mr. I'm Not Sure is off on holiday. He doesn't like to plan much, which is really fine by me. But thinking about what I'll say to him when he's back is causing me anxiety. The truth is, I really like him. A  lot. He's grown-up, no drama, and easy to be around. He's a gentlemen too. And sweet. I have a pile of books and DVD's that he's given me to watch while he's out of town on business. Mostly BBC stuff, since he's from the UK. But he's pretty reserved...and hasn't shared too much about how he feels towards me.

I met him through a dating web site, about a year ago. And I resisted him a whole 9 months; about 5 of which I wasted on a relationship with Mr. Big Time Loser. But, anyway he was persistent. And the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. For me, it's usually the opposite.

We've been dating about 3 months. He travels a lot, which is really okay. But I was a little hurt he decided to take his holiday as a road trip. Far away from City X. Then again, it's only been 3 months. Things have moved slowly. Maybe he was just doing his normal thing, and in the process avoided the whole "awkward" 1st Christmas together.

I'm not quite sure I'm ready to totally say good-bye to him. Even if he still can't give me the answer I need. Because, in my gut, I feel like if things go well....he would do it for me.

Geez, I'm way ahead of myself. Why do I always do this? Maybe I just need to go with that gut. I just wish I know whether my gut was right or not. I guess there are no easy answers, are there?

Just Say No to iPods

So I've been feeling like every time I finish writing my blog entry and hit "Publish Post", my blog is sent out into the universe.....wherever blogs go to die.

I guess that's okay, since the purpose of this is basically for me to write. And it's been therapeutic. I've been rather depressed this past week. Mostly because I'm so broke. I shouldn't be. I guess that's the part that really gets me. I earn a decent living, I can pay all my bills and buy all the things I need. But I'm bad at managing money. And since I get paid only once every month, I'm usually broke the last few days of the month. At first, I'm all.."whoo hoooo, look at how much money I have." Then I proceed to buy stuff; stuff I don't need.

For example, right now, I really want an iPod Touch. I mean I really, really, really want an iPod Touch. I've been  pricing them on E-Bay.....just waiting for my next direct deposit to post. Somewhere in my brain is a little voice telling me I really don't need that iPod Touch, and that I should try something different this month. Like maybe using that money to pay down my credit cards balances. Dammit, reality bites sometimes.

I mean I should really stop buying things I don't need. The more I think about it, the more I realize I should do this. One month....how about I wait at least 1 month? 1 month, I can do that. This January, I will refrain from buying crap that I don't need. I'll just see how it feels.

Sometimes I think I buy things to reinforce the denial. Denial that I have unpaid debt, that I don't own my own home, that I'm single and childless. I've never been one to make New Year's Resolutions. I don't think I've ever made one, in fact.

But, I think it's time. Something needs to change.

The other thing? I'm thinking more and more about this writing thing. I remember when I was teenager, all I wanted to do was write. I was so sure that's would I would do for a living, there was no question, no doubt. Now, all that fills my mind 24/7 is doubt.

I'm in a very safe and secure industry. Though I'm not good with my money, I'm never worried about where my next pay check will come from. But I need to do more with this writing.

I've looked at other blogs, web sites. Other people are doing it. I hate to think I'm so arrogant that I think I could do a better job, but well, I sort of do. I think I have something say.

So while I'm weaving my way through single-ville making sense of life without a man; I feel like I'm ready to do something with my writing. I want to be writer. The problem of course, is getting people to like and read what you write. So my next step is to at the very minimum get a web site started, to showcase all my skills and talents as a writer on my own web page. Geez...that sounds so Hollywood.

My other step is to just say no to the iPod. And not be flat broke at the end of the month.

The Woman Child: Why Temper Tantrums and Fuck Buddies Are Dead

When I hear about television shows like Tiaras and Tots, I can't help but nod my head. What mother in her right mind would dress up her daughter and have her pose like this? Insane. And sick. But there's another kind of insanity happening. The opposite of all this. Yes...I'm talking about the not so allusive Woman Child. Just look around, you'll see her everywhere. The post-35 and single female.
I've been searching for relevant blogs of the late. And one I stumbled upon is a blog by Simone Grant called Sex, Lies and Dating. One of the things that Simone mentions is that being single somehow brands her a girl rather than a woman. I can't help but think how true this really is, and how I see myself in a similar light. And, as Carrie Bradshaw coined.....I couldn't help but wonder....will post-30 singles ever grow up? Or are they destined to be life long Peter Pans?  
So far, my most significant birthday was turning 35. I don't know why, but it felt important for some reason, although I wasn't sure why at the time. But I think it has something to do with being branded. Somehow I felt my chances of ever meeting that special someone significantly plummetted precisely at 12:00 AM on my 35th birthday. I felt like even if I did meet someone and get married, I would still be a "single girl" at my very core.  
I think there is something more to this than just fear. I cringe to say that I think there is some truth in it. It does become harder to date post 35. There are certain things people shouldn't be doing after they turn 35. Eating straight from the jar of Jiffy, having roommates, wearing skinny jeans, saying phrases like "that totally sucks." It's just plain wrong. Somehow I can't help but feel there is something wrong about still being single in your 30's. When you're single and searching in your 20's there is something romantic about it all. In your 30's, it's just sort of sad.  
The other aspect of all this is that being single sometimes prevents you from doing certain things; mostly because you think this is something you'll do once you're married with a family. Flashforward 10 years, and there you are 37 years old without a proper collection of cooking utensils and still renting the same 1 bedroom apartment on the hip side of town. I should have a proper set of kitchen utensils, shouldn't I? I should own my home, shouldn't I? Somehow it just never seemed an important investment for just me, myself and I. And kitchen utensils are expensive. I'd much rather spend my money on clothes, Mystic Tannings and random purchases at Sephora.
  If this wasn't bad enough, post 30 and single females are encouraged  to act childlike. They've been misguided into believing that men find it cute. Just look at Sex and the City. On any given episode, you'll find Carrie Bradshaw having yet another emotional break down i.e. temper tantrum at Mr. Big. And just surf the net for various guides that attempt to teach 30-something women on how to find and keep a good fuck buddy. I'm here to tell you ladies, that temper tantrums and fuck buddies will get you nowhere. We need to grow up. If what we want is real men, than we need to be real women.
And I'm not perfect. While temper tantrums and fuck buddies aren't necessarily my forte; Iet's just say I've eaten Frosted Flakes for dinner, on the couch, and over Gossip Girl, on more than one occasion. I need to grow out of my single girl mentality too and start behaving more like the sophisticated woman I really am.
I think about the women I admire, who I find the most sexy and beautiful. Selma Hayak. She's such a woman. A grown-up woman. The most annoying ones are the child like ones like Sarah Jessica Parker.  
And I can't help but ask the question--if I behave more like a proper grown-up woman will I attract a more proper and grown up man?  

She's Just Not That Into Your Cock

So a few days ago I watched He's Just Not That Into You. It was entertaining and cute, but then I started to think about the whole concept more. I'm tired about hearing how women just need to understand when a man is "just not that into her." There have been books, articles and movies....ever since the revelation was discovered on Sex and the City. LOMG (Like Oh My God), you mean the fact that he doesn't call me, or generally express any interest in being around me means....he's just not that into me? As if, women are just so completely stupid for not understanding these codes of conduct.

Hey guys....here's an idea: how about you just tell her you're not that into her? Really, it would save everyone involved a lot of time, Cosmo quizzes, money and unnecessary restraining orders. I mean honestly, you all go on and on about how difficult women are and how simple you all are? Really? I mean....really? Then why do women have to waste their valuable time reading books and articles about how to tell you are just not into them? I'm not saying anything....I'm just saying.

This also got me thinking....it's not as if you all aren't guilty of the exact same thing. Except, in your case, it's not generally a relationship she's not that into. No....and I hate to break it to you, but sometimes she's just not into your cock. And since, generally you don't understand things unless they're defined within the perimeter of your cock, I've taken it upon myself to do exactly that.

So, gentlemen; here are some tell tale signs that She's Just Not That Into Your Cock.

1. You slept with her and she hasn't returned your calls ever since.
2. She tells you sex really isn't that important to her, but sports a massive dildo collection in her bedside drawer.
3. At some point, you apologized to her after sex (this is a literal death sentence for your penis).
4. She tells you how great you are at oral, but not at the other.
5. You have any kind of erection problem....it doesn't matter what we say or how much we seem to understand. We think it's us and we don't like it. 3 words: See your doctor.
6. The first time she touched your penis, she was quiet. This is a bad sign. Quiet or neutral generally means,    " I'm disappointed with your cock."
7. At some point, you asked her if she "liked" your package. This is basically an extension of  #6. But if you have to ask her, well then, I believe you already have your answer.
8. She doesn't bother to fake it; it's a little known secret that if a woman likes your penis, she'd rather fake it, than have you know she didn't climax.
9. She has a friend named Fernando. Or Rodrigo or Antonio....any male friend whose name ends with an O basically spells trouble for you and your penis.
10. She has photos of the said individual's penis on her cell phone.


By no means is this list exhaustive. There are plenty of other signs that a woman is not into your cock. Why is that so hard?

Merry *Bleeping* Christmas

So, I've been thinking a lot the last couple of weeks, and in the last few days since Christmas season first approached and, now, arrived. It doesn't really feel like Christmas today. In fact, I can't remember the last time it felt like Christmas to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a scrooge. It's just, well, it could just be any other day to me. Let's face it, it really is just another day.

So there I was today, all alone on Christmas day in City X. I decided I should get out and see a movie. I went to the earliest showing of the film I wanted to see, "It's Complicated." I'm not ordinarily an early bird, but I decided it was worth saving a buck fifty (earliest matinee is cheapest). I was surprised by how many people also had the same thought. It was fairly crowded when I arrived. By the time my movie was over and I was on my way out the door, the theater was packed. Lines were going out the door. "Don't any of you people have families?" I heard someone behind me say.

We're all led to believe that nearly everyone on the planet spends Christmas with their family or loved ones, and surely, if you aren't and are alone, something is clearly wrong. But the truth is, I saw all kinds of people out and about on Christmas day. Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone. You mean, there are people like me that aren't with their families for the holidays, and they aren't sitting at home pondering putting a bullet through their brain? In fact, they're actually.... fine with it?

The media has led us to believe that everyone is happy at Christmas. Actually, the media has led us to believe that everyone around you is happy all the freaking time. Every single day. Everyone is happily married. Everyone is happy in their job. Everyone is happy with their financial success. Not only that, but everyone else is having more and better sex than you are. Lots more. Tons more.

And excuse me, but when did it become anything less than annoying when someone is one hundred percent happy, one hundred percent of the time? It reminds of the occasional fool who has said something to me like, "Effi you have such a nice smile, you should really smile more often." The next time some fool says this to me, here is my response: "Perhaps I would smile more often, if there weren't so many fools like you around to make me frown."

It's no wonder people rush to their doctor's for the quickest anti-depressant fix they can get. We all think there is something wrong with us. Surely, I fall into this category. And it's only thinking about it with more reflection that I realize I'm really not alone. Examine the next commercial, television program (minus HBO or Showtime) or movie you see. Notice how.....happy everyone appears? Now, on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your happiness?

The next time you are feeling alone, or like you are the only person thinking the thoughts you're thinking, just remember; there are thousands, probably millions of people feeling the exact same way. You really aren't alone.

Men, Atheism, Mr. I'm Not Sures, and Why I Should be More Like My Cat

So lately, I've dived into a bit of a crisis. They always seem to come up when I have too much time on my hands and not enough money in my pocket. In addition, they often coincide when I'm dating a Mr.I'm Not Sure man, which I'll elaborate more on later. Point being, I'm single, 37, relatively broke at the moment, on vacation from work, and *surprise* dating, a yes, Mr. I'm Not Sure Man. Admit it, you feel better about yourself already, don't you?

In addition, my spirituality has recently come into question. I've never considered myself religious. To be honest, I don't know that I ever believed in God. But last Saturday night, when I was home alone, yet again, I found myself searching for Atheist groups on meetup.org. I don't know what prompted me to do this. I don't really consider myself an Atheist. And then, the very next day I found myself juxaposed between a rather odd group of individuals discussing Intelligent Design, or rather, the lack thereof.

Truth is, I don't know if I'm an Atheist. I'm exploring the possibility of it. Anyway, this was the start of my most recent crisis. Not only was I still single and near penniless, there was no God to boot. And, I wasn't going to mention this, but I accidentally stumbled upon pictures of an ex-boyfriend with his new girlfriend on Facebook. I spent all day Monday with my blinds drawn, and the lights off. I cried. A lot. The dishes piled in the sink. The used tissue balls collected on the floor. When the tissue box was empty I resorted to toilet paper rolls. I thought of filling the tub with water and slashing my wrists. I imagined what would ensue. The people who would be sad. I imagined what they would say at work, what my family would say, how my friends who hadn't seen me in years would react when they heard the news. In the midst of all of this, I e-mailed the most dependable person I could think of. Jay X.

I met Jay 5 years ago in a laundry mat when I lived in West X. We talked for what seemed like hours. Jay had this cute, unassuming way about him. He was incredibly cute, smart, funny, witty and well traveled. He had this back East street wise sense about him, especially when he intercepted the conversation with phrases like "busting my chops." When both our laundries were finished, there wasn't much left to say except, "Good-bye, have a nice life." We parted sadly, both feeling the connection but unsure if the other felt the same way. As I pulled my Jetta out of the lot, there came Jay running out to stop me, "Hey, let me just give you my business card, in case you ever want to get together."

Neither one of us could have possibly imagined that we wouldn't actually "get together" for another 2 years. Anyway, Jay and I became friends. Of course, there's a lot more to that story and sometime I'll tell you all about Jay.

So on Monday, I e-mailed Jay. I told him everything. He called me and by the end of the conversation, I felt 70% better. In fact, I even did that pathetic thing all women do. I started to imagine that maybe Jay was actually the one for me. Maybe he would fly to City X, we'd have wild, passionate sex and realize we were meant for each other. Then I remembered that Jay had a girlfriend now. And that Jay still officially lives in London. And he's also a Gemini, but that's another story.

During our conversation though, he dispensed some rather telling advice. When I spilled everything to him, my longing to have a child, and my disappointment in the current man I was dating. He told me I needed to stop apologizing. He said I needed to quit wasting my time on Mr. I'm Not Sure Men. Men who couldn't give a solid answer about whether or not they wanted to marry and have a child. Holy guacamole, he was right on target! Why was I always apologizing for what I wanted? What I deserved? Why did I always feel like asking for what I wanted, made me demanding?

I remembered what a very beautiful and intelligent woman once told me. She said, "Effi, you have to believe you're a goddess. You have to believe that you deserve to be treated like a goddess because you are." At the time, I thought it was unbelievably arrogant, but she was right. I am a goddess. And I need to stop apologizing, and start demanding.

I think about my cat Frida. She's really an average cat. But most of the time, I forget that because she has me under her spell. She has me entirely convinced that she's royalty, and hands down the most beautiful cat ever. The reality? She's sporting a bit of a weight problem and has the stubbiest legs I've ever seen on a cat. Which, in sum, make her look more like a rather odd looking raccoon than a feline. But, she has the most unbelievable huge green eyes, and the most adorable face ever. She never questions how deserving she is of every ounce of affection on spill on her. Why wouldn't I? Frida knows she's a goddess. She has the right idea, and she's damn well not going to apologize for it. Why shouldn't she lie on the pillows and do whatever she pleases? She's Frida, dammit.

I need to be more like Frida. This is my first mission. Any time I'm in a position where I feel like being apologetic. I'll think, "What would Frida do?"

Yes, that's Mission #1. I know this will be the hardest mission of all.

Mission #2? I have to confront Mr. I'm Not Sure. I have to ask him, head on, with no apologies if he wants to be married and have another child (he's divorced and has two teenage daughters already).

Mission #3? For the first time, I'm putting myself out there. I'm asking for what I want. And guess what? If you don't have it, then hit the road. No apologies. Hey, it's what Frida would do, right?

My goal? To find my mate. In one year. The person who I can live the rest of my life out with. Who I can have my future son or daughter with. Who knows? Maybe Mr. I'm Not Sure will suddenly.....I don't know? Know what he wants? Maybe my mission will be accomplished that quickly...as soon as Mr. I'm Not Sure returns from his I'm Not Sure Where I'm Headed Holiday. But I'm betting on the opposite. And in the meantime, I have some serious socializing to do and some serious writing to do. And the best part about it all? I'll have some fabulous writing material, so I can do what I love best: write. I promise I'll keep you posted.