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AdultFriendFinder is an adult website that caters to casual dating, swinger activities and special interest groups. The website offers sexual material and many features are delivered in the way of video, blogging, photos and live chat. |
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EHarmony.com Free Communication Weekend starts this Friday for both US and Canada! Starting September 3rd through September 6th, users can communicate with their matches absolutely FREE. 4 days of free communication for all users. Act now! The sooner you register, the longer you’ll have to communicate with you matches for free, no credit card needed. Don’t miss out on this great promotion!
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PerfectMatch.com is unique from other websites as they offer a free personality analysis generated by the Duet Total Compatibility System and offers “perfect matches” based on the results. The main focus of the site is on finding a long-term partner, rather than making friends or meeting dates. This site is an ideal choice for users seeking a serious relationship. |
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Match.com started in 1995. It is easy to navigate and provides you with all the tools you need to find a date. Subscription prices are comparable to other online dating sites and as it is probably the biggest dating site in the world, your chance of receiving matches and replies is statistically higher than on one of the smaller sites. |
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Chemistry.com is the sister site of Match.com, but the way they operate is completely different. It uses a patented Personality Profile (as featured on 20/20 and Good Morning and America) to generate matches for their customers based on the results of their questionnaire. The Registration takes considerably longer than on most sites, but the Personality Profile provides some interesting feedback for matching up perspective interests. Membership fees are slightly higher than most other sites, but may be worth the price. |
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Spark.com is the sister site of Spark.net and is also part of a network of sites similar to JDate,ChristianMingle,BlackSingles and LDSmingle.com. The site offers members the chance to meet others who share the same core values and interest levels. The various site networks provide an online community for people looking for users who also have similar lifestyles and religious beliefs. Spark.com ensures that members have a safe and comfortable online atmosphere in order to initialize contact before meeting face to face. The site is directed towards fun and hip individuals who are culturally diverse and wish to get right to the point in finding a partner. Spark.com does not pick and choose its members in any way. The site is inviting to separated singles, heterosexuals and gay couples and does not discriminate based on sexual orientation.
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date.com is a free to join site tailored to adults looking for relationships. It was created in 1997 and is the sister site to Match.com. The majority of users on the site are college educated professionals that live in larger cities and suburbs. The site is welcoming and easy to use and very organized.
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SeniorPeopleMeet.com Possibly the most popular dating site for seniors on the web. The is dating site focuses on singles over 50 years old. 50 plus singles seeking a mature relationship should sign up for this hugely successful site. With this site being the largest senior dating community in North America it will give you the best chance of finding a relationship as a senior. Don’t pass up this award winning dating site if you are a senior looking for love.
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MatchMaker.com is a free to join site for marriage minded members over 35. It was first created in 1996 and has now become one of the world’s longest running online dating sites. The site is easily navigated, friendly and welcoming.
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SingleParentMeet.com Welcome to a community designed around the needs of a single parent. Single mom’s and dad’s know that dating can be a challenge and this dating site does its best to address those challenges and use them to match you with the perfect mate. As a single parent you are concerned about finding someone that will not only be good for your child but will also understand the love, time and dedication your child needs. This site will help you find someone that will meet all those needs.
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Recently I read an online interview on Lemondrop with author Holly Hill regarding her new book entitled, “Sugar Babe.” The theory behind this nonfiction work is that a woman who doesn’t put out to the extent her man desires will get cheated on, and deservedly so. Her solution: negotiated infidelity. I don’t really have a problem with her philosophy. It’s more that I have a problem with any philosophy that claims to be right for everyone. I imagine it has only been her experience that these facts are true, and to that end I see nothing wrong with writing a book with advice based on that personal perspective. My personal experience is that with the right guy (well, right for this example, not like Mr. Right) you can hold out on sex for month or even years, never get cheated on, and drive each other into miserable shells of humans. But do you hear me saying that’s right for everyone? I’ll tell you what part of the interview really got my goat. It was this quote by Hill, “I couldn’t think of anything worse than getting sexual advice or reading sex scenes from someone who isn’t doing it a lot. Never trust an unpromiscuous sex writer, I say!” Hold it, Holly. I write about dating, sex, and love. And sure, I don’t have any of those things in my life, but I dare say I do a smash up job of doling out the pearls of wisdom even if no one is giving me pearl necklaces at the moment. Today I will illustrate how I A)write a knock-your-socks off sex scene, and B)how I dispense great advice.
The Sex Scene:
Shelly had been dating Kirk for almost three months and tonight was finally the night! Her amber eyes sparkled as she slithered out of her silken negligee like a snake out of its old skin. “Boy,” murmured Kirk, his own chocolate eyes ablaze like brown fire, “Your skin is so soft, like a baby’s.” Shelly said nothing. Instead she clapped her hands twice, dimming the lights so that the shadows played on their faces like playful shadows. Kirk pulled his J Crew summer crew neck over his head and Shelly helped him as she had with her own children for so many years. She had always given birth naturally so Kirk had no trouble sliding his Dodger Dog inside her. But they did foreplay first. “Your nipples are like the pink part of Neapolitan ice cream,” he exclaimed with fervor. Shelly licked her lips and they looked glossy as if she were already wearing lip gloss which she was not. “You mean strawberry?” she whispered in his ear. That got Kirk excited. They plunged at each other like lonely waves finally meeting the sand after a long journey at sea. Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, fingers entwined much like their souls. “I love you, Shelly,” said Kirk, his voice husky with emotion. Shelly finally released all the pent up feeling she’d held for so long through her divorce and not getting promoted. She sobbed gently into Kirk’s blonde chest hair, peaceful at last.
The Online Dating Advice:
- Don’t be afraid to list all of your faults up front. This ensures your potential mate will have low expectations going in and you’ll be less likely to disappoint.
- Always memorize his profile so you can reference it and even quote from it if necessary.
- If you are worried it’s not going well, confide a very personal and embarrassing secret. He will feel sorry for you and won’t end things early.
- Don’t brush your teeth or hair before the date. This makes it look like you tried too hard.
- Remember, this is a potential soul mate hunt. Narrow down the hunt by making sure he can listen to topics like your period, your past depression, and your biggest regrets NOW.
- Treat him the way you would like to be treated. This means holding his hand throughout dinner, calling your friends at the table to let them know he’s a keeper, and telling him you love him if he says anything funny.
- Be a good sport. If he does reject you, don’t get mad, get even. If you’ve done your homework and stalked him in his personal life before the date, this should be easy.
Oh, and boys, I’m single.
Photo via The-Rob
“Have you read the book,” is always the first response I get whenever I tell someone just how much I loved the movie. “Yes, but I loved the movie so much more,” I respond. In Elizabeth Gilbert’s original work, I felt her character was a bit too self-indulgent and ruminative in her depression in almost a hey-look-how-much-I-suffered-so-please-don’t-hate-me-for-leaving-my-marriage kinda way. In the movie, Julia Roberts plays the kind of character we all want to be- someone who makes mistakes in love and life, but is able to land back on her feet and dust herself off each time (all while sauntering around in thousand dollar couture).
I have prescribed this movie as cinematherapy to almost every female client I have. A universal struggle many of my clients have is that they don’t know how to strike a balance in life, and especially in love. When they think they’ve spotted true love, they jump on it, smother it, suffocate it like some endangered species of fruit. Inevitably the apple of their eye turns out to be rotten, and they come in to therapy feeling they’ve been left with nothing because they gave everything. When the right one shows up, he gets to the pay the price because the female is so gun shy from the previous rotten apple.
In the movie, Robert’s Yoda-like Guru says, “sometimes- in order to be in balance… it is necessary to fall out of balance for love.” This is such a powerful message and one I think is so important and unorthodox to what we traditionally think about love. Yet the meaning can be harmfully misconstrued. One must find themselves in balance with life, before they can fall out of balance with love.
What does being out of balance with love mean? I believe it to mean that we still do us. We still do our spiritual practice, we still cultivate our auxiliary relationships, we still chase our dreams and passions. Yet when true love comes along, we get in it and wrap ourselves up like a warm blanket. We roll around in it and breathe it in, in all of its purity and goodness. We lose ourselves in it and don’t worry about the clock.
I, myself have struggled with this concept as I have spent the last four months hard-lining mother nature’s little eight ball- a blissful neurococktail of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin all meant to make me forget I ever had a life before he showed up. There have been moments that I felt guilty- even hypocritical, to spend days with him playing board games, card games, or just laying in bed and belly laughing. Thinking, “this much time together can’t be good- have I lost me? did I go and undo all of that work I did on myself? “
At the same time, the last four months have been some of the most pure, blissful, enjoyable, gratifying, and just-plain-good moments of my life. I still do the things I did before, but now they are amplified when they are shared. Morning coffee is even better when I’m pouring for two. Hearing the message that it is ok to be out of balance in love was the inspiration for a giant “wheeeeewwwww,” in the theatre and one I hope everyone can take a page from.
Photo via VaDaVelle
A few years ago, determined to live in my favorite, hip LA neighborhood, I decided to brave the roommate scenario once again. It was either that or move to Glendale and live next door to my ex boyfriend. The Craigslist apartment listings aren’t unlike the online dating personals. Mostly a lot of nut jobs in need of companionship and a laundry list of demands of the stranger in question. My favorites are the ones requesting the roomie-to-be never be home, have no guests, and pay the majority of the rent.
When I finally stumbled across one that sounded like it had been written by a human being, I called immediately and made a plan to go see the place and meet the potential roommate. Benjamin was a 30 year-old Asian graphic designer genius or something. He had a room available in his Silverlake apartment. We went for a pre-roomie coffee date. He told me all about his Capoeira dancing, a combination of marshall arts and Afro-Brazilian dance. Back at his place he showed me some moves and nearly took my head off with an upside down roundabout kick. He was small but muscular and though the dancing was impressive, standing in his living room watching him thrust himself about to no music was somewhat awkward. I told him I needed to think about it. “Here, take the keys,” he said. “I’ll be out of town for the weekend and you can come hang out, see if it fits.”
It’s a bizarre feeling to enter a stranger’s house alone for the sole purpose of hanging. I was used to house-sitting, baby-sitting, cat-sitting. All of my jobs, including substitute teaching, involved playing sub for somebody else in their life while they were off living. I’m incredibly responsible. And incredibly lethargic in making things happen for myself. I walked through each room, watched the stripes of light from headlights through the mini blinds travel across the walls. I opened the medicine cabinet and found that, like all guys, Benjamin had a collection of about seven deodorant sticks. I lay on the floor in the room I might inhabit and stared up at the ceiling. Nope. Didn’t feel right. My real fear of having a roommate (though I’ve had some nightmarish ones in the past) is that close quarters will lead to them seeing the real me: moody, lonely, and prone to anxiety attacks. It’s the same reason I often avoid dating.
I sat down on Benjamin’s couch to write him a note thanking him for the offer, but alas, declining. As I was writing, though, the couch suddenly felt so cozy. I picked up a pillow and sniffed: Old Spice. I’m a sucker for smell. I dated a guy once because he smelled like 1994. I dated my first boyfriend because he smelled like fabric softener and pizza. This pillow smelled just right. My note changed tone. Panic-prone mess that I am, I can summon charm when need be. I wrote a witty little note about how I wasn’t catching the roommate vibe, but that the smell of his sofa made me think we should hang out some time. He called the second he got home.
I should add that I was in a pretty good depression during this time. I hated my jobs, needed a place to live, and had just learned my ex was in love with a gorgeous, talented, hilarious woman who I would have to see on a daily basis if I moved in next door. Benjamin and I started making out on his good-smelling couch a few times a week. We bonded over both liking the Arnold Lobel children’s book, “Frog and Toad.” Frog was an easy going guy while Toad was an anxious, pessimistic worrier. We nicknamed ourselves Frog and Toad. Yes, of course I was Toad. And yes, I had joined the trend that is online dating. I might not have found him in the personals, but this was a Craigslist connection with a couch as a matchmaker.
The danger in dating someone because of A)depression and B)good smell, is it soon becomes apparent the relationship has little to do with the other person. Benjamin would answer the door wearing flip flops with socks, the rubber thong wedged up between his toes. It made me want to barf. He kissed like a seagull, craning his neck back then attacking with pursed lips that felt like they were bruising me. Also, he was a terrible driver. I know it’s shallow, but when a guy can’t get from one destination to the next without several near-collisions, I find it unattractive.
It was during a make-out session when Benjamin confessed he had always suspected he might be gay until he met me that I decided it was time to call it quits. Flattered though I was that my dry humping skills were so affecting, this just wasn’t working. I pulled an old reliable breakup line, “I’m just so messed up right now, I don’t think I can handle being with someone.” (Side note: I recently received this one myself. Can you say, ‘karma?’) Benjamin offered to wait until I felt less messed up. This went on over a series of phone calls. I didn’t have the guts to admit to him I just didn’t feel it, and he was obsessed with helping me through my mess. At one point he lamented, “I’ve never dated a neurotic woman before!” Not a line that gets the girl, for the record.
He finally got the hint and I moved in next door to my ex. Seeing his perfect new girlfriend come around was actually worth not sharing a bathroom. I try to remember now, in times of boredom or depression, that any guy can slap on the Old Spice and smell like home. It doesn’t mean you have to move in.
Photo via Evan Pickett
If there had been such a thing as online dating in the Harry Potter world, Professor Snape‘s profile would have read something like, “Single, dark, and mysterious. Been hurt in the past but willing to sacrifice myself for the cause of good: True love. Let’s get together for a butterbeer and see if we have any chemistry – and by chemistry I mean love potion not polyjuice potion of course! LOL. No scars. No werewolves. No redheads.” Snape was really the Kurt Cobain of Harry Potter – tortured, spurned, and fairly greasy but talented nonetheless. And sadly, totally my type.
I know a lot of women would probably opt for Sirius Black. Total babe plus a bad boy to boot. Date Sirius and you get the tortured with the funny. His online dating profile would read, “Single warlock seeks wicked witch for mischief and maybe more. I may have done time, but the only thing I’m guilty of is loving you. Turn ons include rebellion and open wide spaces. If you like to talk about the past, I’m not your guy. But if you wanna get in trouble, I’m dying to meet you.” Added bonus: the guy could transfigure into a dog, which in my book equals hot. If I’ve lost you, I imagine your idea of a fantasy date involves the Weasley twins, a dark passage, and a bottle of fire whiskey. Have at it. Personally I dig a little danger. Especially if the Fat Lady is watching. Oh what, like you never considered the naughty element of having a castle whose walls are embedded with watchful eyes? Sexy as Sirius might be, it’s Snape, with his bat-like menace and discerning eyes, that has me under his spell.
I realized this during maybe my third read of the Harry Potter series. I was curled up under the covers in the middle of a sunny day trying to will myself out of my apartment, out of my life, and into Hogwarts. In the particular scene I was reading, Harry and Snape find themselves at the same Christmas party hosted by Horace Slughorn. Snape was of course suspicious of Harry’s behavior as usual but it was the description of his behavior at the party that got me. Awkward and off-putting, Snape had never really outgrown the teenager who used to SPOILER ALERT obsess over Harry’s mother with misguided tactics. Now, as an adult, the sinister front could not mask the social anxiety. In this same book we see through Harry’s occlumency lessons (OMG, keep up) a vulnerable even sweet side of Snape. Glutton for dysfunction that I am, I suddenly found myself making like The Divinyls. Yes, really. I mean, the dude’s a scientist (that’s potions master in muggle terms) with a dark past, a soft vulnerable underbelly, and a tattoo! If he lived in this world he probably would have eventually become a standup comedian. Or a serial killer. So maybe it’s better I can’t will myself into Harry’s world.
It’s the flaws that get me every time. Sure, I’m easily dazzled by confidence, talent, and a nice magic wand. But when the ugly, the troubled, and the weird begin to glimmer under the surface like inferi, that’s when I’m hooked. I’ve been broken up with by guys claiming they weren’t functioning as complete human beings and therefor couldn’t handle a relationship (I know, it sounds suspicious, right? I’m guessing it was less that, and more me, but for now we’ll accept that as a hypothetical). I’m ashamed to say this turned me on even more. He’s dysfunctional?! I’m dysfunctional! It’s PERFECT! What better thing to have in common than only being a sliver of a human? We could help each other – better yet, we could complete each other. And….. yeah, that’s the definition of a dysfunctional relationship, you know those ones they say are bad? Screw that. It sounds romantic to me. Who has time to become perfect and then find someone else who’s perfect? In this world people don’t live to be 209. Even Dumbledore, well into his two hundreds and more self-aware than most, had fatal flaws. And guess what, he SPOILER ALERT died alone.
It’s not that I’m seeking a real life Snape – ex cult members don’t do it for me. But I don’t need a perfect dream boat either because that would mean I’d have to match up and I am far from able to do that. I mean, in the middle of a beautiful day I’m snuggled in bed reading children’s fiction and trying to disappear. My magical online dating profile would read, “Odd but charming single witch. A bit obsessed with the past, my head is always stuck in my pensieve. Likes: butterbeer (a little too much) and watching funny House Elf videos on YouTube. Let’s get together and disapparate some place better.” I’m what they call a catch.
Photo via mrslim
Often times in my private practice, I see couples who have come to an impasse. They both want/need something from each other, but won’t give what the other person wants until they see they are getting what they demand. The problem with this is no one wins.
The underlying assumption when you find this happening in your relationship is that my happiness lies somewhere other than within myself. In relationships, we often have the mistaken belief that this person is responsible for my happiness.
Just the other day, I worked with a couple pretty typical of most. The guy is all head, the woman is all heart. She wants him to be more affectionate, hold her hand throughout the day, write her love notes, and send her flowers. He wants her to give him sex more often and says he would be happy to put in more affection, more romance- if she would only put out….and so the age old relationship conundrum continues.
How is a female supposed to feel hot and bothered, when she feels less than desired by her partner? How is a male motivated to wax poetic when she’s roaming around the house in her granny pants and side bun? Simple- we just do it.
We have to throw coals in the fireplace before the fire can start. It wouldn’t make sense for us to just sit and stare at the fireplace and say “I’m not going to throw any coals in until I see a fire.” So why do we rely so much on the other person to start our fire?
We are taught so often in society that it takes something external to bring us happiness. Whether it’s a fast car, an expensive purse, the latest hair style, or the hottest relationship- we think that if we aren’t happy the thing that’s missing is a thing. Realistically, if we aren’t happy, it should force us to take a step back and evaluate what it is that we are doing (and most of the time- not doing) that is keeping us from feeling fulfilled from within.
Maybe we aren’t pursuing our hobbies and interests as much as we used to before we got partnered up. Maybe we aren’t taking as much time to play ourselves and/or play with each other. Maybe we mistakenly thought that by devoting our every free moment to our partner, it would better the relationship (quantity does not equal quality).
Somewhere along the way of becoming someone’s other half, we lost our whole-ness. We lost that je ne se quois that first made us interesting to our partner. We show up at our other half’s place only to sit back and say “what you got for me today?” “How are you going to make me happy?” and if they can’t – we assume something is wrong with the relationship.
Begin transforming your relationships today by asking “what can I do for them?” Ironically, you may start to notice what you get back is way more than you gave in the first place.
Photo via Jan Hoogendoorn
From an American point of view, we are still in a closed sexual society. In the past few years we have been able to open up much more about our sexuality than in the past and even put it on display. What we aren´t so up front about is jumping in the sack with someone. There are exceptions to every rule and you may eve feel the urge every once in a while to be with a complete stranger. When you encounter people of another culture and you are dating for success not just to be lonely, you may feel offended because of their sexual offers.
Many women are offended, yet flattered, that a man wants to get right to business but there is that waiting period that women appreciate because it makes her think that he is interested in more than just sex. The catch is that every man thinks about sex whether it is with the girl in a magazine, on TV or the person he is on a date with. He may not make it a priority to let you know but the thought definitely is traveling through.
It really comes down to the direct or indirect methods of letting you know that he wants you…. Now. Many Europeans are upfront and direct about their intentions to sleep with you. In this society, sex is seen as a pleasurable act and not as some scandalous taboo subject that someone is going to call you a slut for afterwards. If he thinks it, he´ll let you know. This is about as direct as it gets in the culture of sex.
In Latin America, there is an indirect directness that tells a woman that he wants her. He´ll never come out right and say it but all of the gestures are telling you that this is what he wants. Without the words, there may be some sort of pressure which you can fold into and enjoy or withstand. Latinos like to get lost in the moment.
Up north, American men are much less forward and pretty indirect (the good guys of course.) This type of subtlety can lead women to be unsure of their desirability. Men can cringe inside about how much they want you but due to certain societal restrictions, you may be forced to wait and play the prude card whether you want to or not. The only way to jump start this relationship is to show him what you want and you will have to be the direct one from the start.
Depending on what your fancy is, these are the ranges of telling you right before dinner that he would like to have sex with you to not even kissing you in the first few weeks. If you are going after a multicultural relationship do not be frightened by such advances. Different cultures have a different outlook on sex and how to present it to their partner.
Photo via Osvaldo Zoom
When Mac and I broke up four years ago, we figured that even if the romantic relationship was ending, the friendship didn’t need to. We’d been together (off and on) for about four years. The last three of those years had been spent trying to break up because breaking up with your best friend sucks. Out of all your friends, they’re the one you want to talk to about it. You miss them and think, why should I lose a boyfriend AND a friend in this deal? Since we were both intelligent, emotionally mature people, Mac and I decided there was no need to sacrifice a perfectly good friendship. It was, in fact, the only reason we had stayed together so long in the first place. So, we broke up on a Friday night and went to breakfast Saturday morning. As friends. I know what you’re thinking, but this didn’t turn into a friends with benefits situation. Who wants benefits from someone you’ve been giving half-hearted hand jobs to during Friends reruns for the last few years, insisting that you be positioned so as to face the tv while pumping away? Nobody. Nobody wants that. But we did end up spending a lot of time together, even more time than when we were dating. It was great! We could finally enjoy each other’s friendship without the pressure of a relationship neither of us wanted to be in anymore. We hung out so much our friends gave up trying to figure it out and invited us everywhere as a couple. We were a walking urban legend: boyfriend/girlfriend turned best friends with no turn around time!
Oddly, during this time, neither of us dated anyone. When friends would question whether it might be due to our unusual closeness we would call each other later and gripe about how close minded they were. We just happened not to be interested in anyone. So what? We weren’t hooking up or pining for each other or breaking any other break up taboos. My guilty admission, though, is that I knew I would be the one to date first when the time came. It had really been me who had orchestrated the beginning of the end and sadly, Mac would probably always be in love with me on some unconscious level. I was a little more social and bounced back a little faster. For Mac, sensitive and a bit sullen, I knew it could take years.
Mac called one day in January to say the shark attack movie he was shooting needed a stand in for the lead actress – meaning a person to stand still and be lit for an hour and then move out of the way when it was time to roll. They also needed a stunt double for her, but it would just be a shot of legs kicking under water, he assured me. I was broke and trying to avoid the loneliness of a depressing apartment so I showed up at 6 AM the next day ready to get in the 50 degree water. I could see why he called me to double Carrie. We were the same height, same coloring. She was thinner with bigger breasts of course, but that’s something you get used to in Hollywood. She was incredibly sweet to me, offering to get me coffee when I was the one in the cold water. And she and Mac were close, too. Like, really really close laughing at everything the other said whispering intimate secrets close. That’s the other worst thing about breaking up with your best friend. You know exactly what it looks like when he’s in love because you’ve seen him look at you that way. It’s how he was looking at her.
While Carrie was bundled in a robe, being fussed over by Hair and Makeup, I was submerged in icy water, my feet weighted down so I wouldn’t keep bobbing up, peeing in my wet suit to keep warm. By the end of the day, having watched Mac and Carrie make goo goo eyes for nine hours and shivering in wet clothes, I was ready to go home. It turned out it wasn’t the end of the day for me. “I think it was just supposed to be my legs kicking underwater,” I explained to the stunt coordinator as he attached a pulley system to my ankle. “Are you a good swimmer?” He asked. “No.” “That’s ok, you need to hold your breath more than swim, anyway.”
The stunt worked like this: Clad in clothes doubling the character’s which in this case were a leopard print mini skirt and a now waterlogged padded bra I hung onto the shoulders of a male stunt double. On the count of three I was to take a giant breath and then the pulley attached to my ankle would yank me first down then all the way across the Olympic size pool underwater as if dragged by a shark (to be added later in post). As I bobbed in my bra and mini, teeth chattering, clinging to a guy named Rex who was actually trained for this kind of thing, I realized what had happened. I had been traded in for an upgrade. Mac had chosen someone with a couple of similar characteristics (actress, brown hair) but he had opted for the G4 model: thinner, prettier, more successful and let’s face it: way nicer. I figured at this point if the pulley didn’t pop my leg off Mac would most likely find me floating face down in the pool, a muddied, duller version of the girl he now loved.
My leg didn’t pop off and I didn’t drown. I surfaced on one end of the pool and looked over at Mac far on the opposite side. He was checking the footage, talking with someone. From where I tread water in the dark, he looked distant but familiar, like someone I used to know. All this time, in the throws of social maturity, I had been hanging on and Mac had let go. And now I’d been dragged away from him. It wasn’t that I still loved him, not like that. I just hadn’t thought about him not loving me. He looked up then and waved to me across the water, like a friend would across a crowded party. I lifted an arm and waved back. Like a friend would.
Photo via flordiamemory
Dating in LA is a lot like looking for a cheeseburger in a Whole Foods. On the surface everything looks nice and pretty- I would almost venture to say- better than most places. Yet when you bite into your Whole Foods cheeseburger, you find that you’re eating some pasty tofu-esque excuse for a meal. You find that the cheese is actually made of xantham gum, non-gmo expeller pressed canola oil, arrowroot, and tapioca. Your so-called “burger,” is actually a nice spherical hunk of inactive yeast, onion powder, and pea protein. Mmmmmm
The dating scene here is similar in that, on the surface, everything seems it would be better. There are massive quantities of shiny good-looking people- a veritable sea of pretty fish, swimming around for you to reel in your pick (and throw back in) at any moment. Yet, when you dig in and try to experience the heartiness that one hopes a relationship provides, you find there’s nothing under the surface.
This was my experience while dating in LA. I began to believe that the person I was looking for wasn’t going to be found amongst this west coast gold rush. Yet, what I failed to realize was that in order to find my other half- I needed to become a whole person myself (or at least more complete than I was at the time). I mean what complete/self-aware person looks for a cheeseburger in Whole Foods anyway?
So “how does one become whole and find their other half,” you ask? Simple- you let go of the idea you will ever find your other half. Yep, that’s right- you lose the idea of ever finding Mr. or Mrs. Right.
My epiphany came to me one night during a Kabbalah lecture where our teacher said “that which you cannot let go of- you will never have.” At that moment, I realized that I could not just let go. I could not lose hope. I couldn’t part with the idea that I would never find the one. Much more- I couldn’t cope with the thought of growing old alone.
Yet, it seemed that everything I was doing wasn’t working. JDate (yes even shiksas are allowed), Match.com, Plentyoffish, you name it- I tried it. I did “happy hours” with my girlfriends, whilst both of us simultaneously scanned the room for potentials, never really experiencing a happy minute, much less happy hour. I surreptitiously hand-picked the weekend parties I would attend based on what male demographic that would be there.
My reasoning- if I stopped for just one day, maybe that was the day I was supposed to meet him. Also, my time was a-ticking. I was THIRTY YEARS OLD for god’s sake! Yet, I finally hit a wall. Whether it was frustration, helplessness, hopelessness, or sheer exhaustion- I figuratively threw my hands up in the air that was the LA dating scene.
I could not get my head around how I could accomplish every other thing I wanted to accomplish in my life, but a relationship. Usually, if I wanted to meet a goal- I met it. If I wanted to reach a certain weight-no problem. If I needed more money- no sweat. If I wanted a certain job- not a big deal. I set enough short term goals, and worked on them hard enough until I got there. Yet, when it came to the relationship department- I sucked…and like all things I suck at- I quit (thankfully the reason I also quit piano, flute, and guitar lessons- you’re welcome mom and neighbors).
There was a certain freedom in quitting- in letting go. It opened my mind up to the question of “now what?” If, for whatever reason, I suck at relationships- what does my life look like as a swinging single? Yes, I just said “swinging single,” – I think I just baby puked.
No longer was Prince Charming going to come and sweep me off my Hollywood 850 square foot apartment- I was going to have to do it. The first thing I realized- I didn’t want to live in Hollywood. I probably strategically placed myself there because I subconsciously thought this was where my target audience (successful and ambitious males between the ages of 30-39) habituated.
The next thing I realized was that I wanted to live by the beach. I imagine I had been saving that for when I was married and could afford a more grown-up home. Wasn’t I grown up all by myself? Time Warner Cable, Sallie Mae Student Loans, and Discover card seemed to think so.
I began to do visualizations before my morning meditations each day. Each time, I was walking along the beach in the morning, with a coffee in one hand, and a dog leash in the other. There! I could create a family all by myself. It felt empowering. It felt freeing. It felt relaxing. Deep breath … Exhale.
So that’s what I did. I told my roommates my plan and began searching for my new place by the sea. “Apartment for one please,” I would say. In April of this year, I found a great spot in Manhattan Beach and haven’t looked back.
Obviously, you know how this story ends. When you least expect it- he shows up. I used to roll my eyes as far back in my head whenever I heard some chick say that. Yet there is something to letting go that finally brings whatever that is into your life. A watched pot never boils, as they say. I had to become a complete person, a hearty person, a non-GMO-processed-tapioca person to find my other cheeseburger.
Photo via KateDW
