Mis(s) Matched

During the evolution of on line dating it was the ultimate breeding ground for…well, breeding; or at least practicing the art of breeding. The plethora of options was limitless and everyone seemed to show up with their A-game. There was an insurmountable collection of perfection with every click of the mouse. But alas, all good things must come to an end and year after year the number of worthy adversaries was dropping like flies. And then along came the summer of the triple threat that nearly endangered my already perilous dating life.

Enter bachelor number one. Match.com’s simplistic rating system gave us a ninety-two percent compatibility factor and being as how I was on the verge of finalizing my second divorce anything over fifty percent seemed to be a step in the right direction. We did the usual interweb dating song and dance…he winked, I replied and before I knew it we had scheduled the “meet and greet.”  Thrilled with the anticipation of sipping coffee over lingering glances with a former Calvin Klein underwear model, the day couldn’t arrive soon enough.

As per usual, all went off without a hitch, but then again, I’d practically perfected the meet and greet. Give just enough information with subtle innuendos to grab his attention. Look cute, but not high maintenance. If he’s tall wear stilettos, if not, flip-flops… just to ensure there’s no awkward first kiss height issues. Throw a few ego stroking compliments his way, laugh at his jokes and be sure to end the festivities before the conversation had time to get stale. Honestly, it’s really not all that difficult, and I’m fairly certain a monkey could do it. So there he was, Mister Hawter than Hawt, eating out of the palm of my hand and booking another go round before I had time to thank him for the triple café mocha.

Date two likened the first, except this particular evening I was hit with the “next week is my Birthday” bomb. Cripes! Really, so soon? I should have paid more attention to his zodiac sign, but his half nekkid photos distracted me from the important issues like… don’t start dating someone who’s about to celebrate anything. Before I knew it I was stuck in a quandary as to how much cash to drop on his six pack abs. Not only was this going to be the all important third date, but I had to make it special for a quasi stranger who I had little more in common with than his DNA that he’d left in my mouth.

Being a sucker for twinkling eyes, a Colgate smile and an ass that I could rest my library books on, I opted to suck it up and make reservations at his favorite sushi restaurant in the Hollywood Hills… and I don’t even like sushi! It was a beautiful night, with an amazing view of the debauchery on Sunset Boulevard. Sadly, by the time we ordered appetizers we’d started to enter… the quiet zone. Without warning we’d run out of things to say and considering the circumstances we couldn’t ignore the silence and jump straight to the all important third date hump-a-thon. As I suppressed another yawn all I could think about was bypassing the formalities and getting at least one good romp for the dough I was shelling out to eat a meal that made me want to vomit.

Startled back to reality by the waitress with a plate full of raw fish and seaweed I was certain things couldn’t get any worse…and then I heard, “I have something I need to tell you.” Oh c’mon, seriously? Now you want to talk? Now you want to confess your childhood masturbation habits? What? What do you want to tell me, Mr. You’d Be Much Cuter Naked Man? Of course he did his best to prepare me with his rendition of some football mishap or another. (Honestly, I was halfheartedly listening while trying to ignore the eyeballs on my plate.) Perhaps in hindsight I should have paid more attention because before I knew it my 6′3 man of steel was removing his pearly whites and putting them in the front pocket of his shirt!

Now, I’d like you to take a moment and think about not only the horror that my super model date had suddenly turned into Elmer Fudd, but how incredibly difficult it is to not stare at a gaping black holed grill. Let me tell you, folks, there was nothing pretty about the way he gummed those oysters like a baby latched on to a lactating nipple.

Needless to say, that was my last date with Mc Hawterson. Not because of his lack of enamel, but because the bastard actually had the audacity to place an extra order to go…on my tab!

Let’s hear it kids. Have you ventured into the online dating realm, and if so, was it a glorious adventure or a horrific tale? And more importantly, would you date a 30-something with dentures?

The fun and not-so-good times are just getting started, stay tuned in the coming weeks for Bachelors 2 and 3 in the mini-series of Mis(s)-Matched.

BOO!

Hidden indiscretions…we all have them. Overstuffed envelopes containing love letters of yesteryear, a little locked box with pixilated images and of course the ever popular, naughty drawer. Memories and alter egos, stashed and hoarded away with the notion that our eyes are the only one’s that will ever peer into our unmentionables. And then the day comes…dun, du, du, dun, duuuuun….when others are inadvertently made privy to the fact that not all of our dirty little secrets are taken to the proverbial grave.

Personally, I’m an emotional packrat. I save everything from movie stubs to post-it notes and champagne corks. I suppose this trend begins in the hopes that each new encounter will ultimately become the relationship that lasts through my golden years. I revel in the idea that someday I’d be able to fondly remember the play off series or the trip to the amusement park on our summer vacation. Each tangible item in the “memory box” would evoke an emotional response. My heart would swoon as a smile crosses my lips while aimlessly rocking on the porch sipping lemonade. What? A girl can dream, can’t she?

Okay, Okay, so in theory, having a sentimental treasure trove has warm and fuzzy written all over it. In reality…not so much. Imagine for a moment, your purest, gawdliest friend or family member. Now, imagine the shock and awe you might endure if you were to unexpectedly discover that they secretly fancy zoophilia, numerous sexual partners, cross-dressing or if you’ve struck the mother load…all three simultaneously. WHOA! Suddenly your impressions have been shattered into tiny bits of convoluted irrational thoughts leaving you with nothing more than unanswered questions.

In the event of my permanent absence there are very few people I could fathom sorting through my life and discovering some of my, shall we say…questionable activities. Although I’m not generally one to keep secrets that certainly does not mean that I would ever want my survivors to see my bits in high def or read about my summer vacation to Mexico when I was a not-so-innocent barely legal teen on the verge of a starring role in Girls Gone Wild.

Here’s a little food for thought…if others would be horrified by your possessions of X-rated paraphernalia, years of memoirs or that you still harbor a crush on Scott Baio, I highly suggest you invest in a paper shredder and schedule a bonfire in your near future! No one needs that kind of unsolicited information floating around in their grey matter distorting their untainted opinions and memories. If you’ve got skeletons in your closet…for the love all that’s unholy, get rid of them! Spare the damage to your children’s psyches when they discover that you’ve used their kindergarten paper mache piñata to store your nipple clamps and whatnots!

It’s time to give up the goods…what secrets are you hiding? Are you an emotional pack rat or do you binge and purge? And, how would you feel if you came face-to-face with current lovah’s past conquests?

Ding Dong Doormat

Dear Eve,

Why is it that relationships are never equal? You have to admit, men do a lot more things for women than they do for men - dinner, massages, gifts, emotional support, romantic gestures…etc. Women never buy a man something without expecting something bigger in return. Are men supposed to accept that women will never be able to love us unconditionally and with the same desire we have for you?

Hopelessly,
Reamed by Relationships

Dear Reamed,

Bitter, party of one…your table is ready. Dude, are you serious? Of all the questions that we’ve received here at Eve-101 yours has truly got to be one of the most ludicrous! The simple notion that women are unable to love men unconditionally and equally goes against the very grain of logic and reason. Women nurture by nature, we couldn’t avoid it if we wanted to.  And I absolutely do not have to admit that your statement is true, as a matter of fact, your asinine opinions are making my hair hurt!

Listen brainiac, if you feel as though you’re giving more than you’re getting perhaps you need to take into consideration your actions versus those you mingle with. If you’re the only one participating in a relationship, well then, it’s not really a relationship is it? Is it possible that you’re the guy who will leach on to every woman you meet until you smother the very life out of her? Or are you the one who offers up kind gestures subconsciously expecting that she’ll do the same? If you want to keep score, I recommend picking up a game of hoop with the boys and forgoing the relationship hatch marks.

Now, granted, there are women (and men too) who are nothing more than opportunistic scavengers who’ll take what they can get and leave you high and dry. But, to make such a broad statement that all women fall into the “unequal” category simply proves your narrow minded thought process and probable limited experience. So let’s play a little game, shall we? Why don’t you start by making a list of personal traits from your last 3 relationships…once you find the common denominator it should be rather easy to steer clear of those that you’re attracting whom are causing you so much pain and misery. Next, I’d highly suggest that you do something about that attitude of yours…it really is unflattering and more than likely the root cause of your disenchantment.

If introspection and self-awareness are too complicated, perhaps you should embrace your love of all things masculine and switch teams. No? Well then, if you require a woman in your life to fulfill your unmet needs try communicating more and blaming less. Take responsibility for your own actions, quit whining like a little pansy ass and don’t be a doormat. People will only take advantage of you if you let them!

Are you a giver or a taker? Do you tip the scales in your favor or balance them equally? Should Reamed remain hopeless or simply change his modus operandi?

Happy Trails

I realized something last week when I made my second trip to the same mortuary in two years and that is…it’s not a very upbeat, joyful place to be. The lovely array of homemade cookies aside, its liken to an episode of the Twilight Zone where everyone speaks in slow motion with disturbing solemn looks on their faces, and quite frankly, that does nothing to boost my morale or my attempt at celebrating the lives of those I love.

Yes, I said celebrating, not mourning. We have two distinct choices when we lose a loved one…we can either be grateful for the time we had with them or we can curl up in the fetal position and feel sorry for ourselves. We can wallow in self-pity or we can find humor in the transplant team asking if our beloved “had or was ever exposed to mad cow disease.”  We can walk slow and breathe deep or act like complete lunatics making others our emotional punching bags. Just like being happy is a choice, so is how we remember and honor those we love.

As I found myself surrounded by the same drama that tends to plague many families when they lose a loved one I was struck with a brilliant (if I do say so myself) idea…The Happy Trails Mortuary. Upon entering patrons will be greeted with a smile, (no hugs as they tend to cause emotional outbursts) a glass of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. The staff will be cheerful, helpful and eager to assist with your party planning needs. Life, after all should always be celebrated!

The Happy Trails Mortuary will support you in creating the most memorable way to honor your departed with a wide variety of festivity choices. C’mon, who doesn’t love a good party where friends, family, colleagues and neighbors gather to eat, drink and be merry? We will also provide obituary services that will outshine the standard facts and figures and we will never, ever label your urn with the wrong name. Lastly, The Happy Trails Mortuary in conjunction with Happy Trails Vacations and Resorts will provide you and your support team with a complimentary 5 night stay at one of our luxury recuperation villas where you will be pampered by our full service staff 24-hours a day.

“Happy Trails Mortuary…until we meet again.”

What say you? Would you rather take stock in Kleenex and wear a black veil for months on end, or commemorate and rejuvenate after the passing of your loved one? Of course there is the third option that involves a padded room and a straight jacket, but that’s no fun alone!

Holly Gowhoring

Dear Eve,

I was wondering if you could tackle the playing the field issue.

I’m 23 and trying to play the field without coming off as a whore. I’m not sleeping with these guys. I’m getting to know them or at least trying to but in all honesty it seems like it takes forever to get to know if I really like one person so why not get to know all three and then pick the one I like the most.

I’ve been upfront with them. I’d just like your point of view.

-Treading the Field Lightly.

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