Maintenance

spot #2

NEW YORK, NY; 2005

We can have a chapter called maintenance....

main-te-nance (P) Pronunciation Key

1. The act of maintaining or the state of being maintained.

2. The work of keeping something in proper condition; upkeep

3. The work girls go through for a guy....

...definition #3, what girls go through for guys, i.e; work out until we have killer abs or headaches, [either or can be a new feeling...good or bad], straighten our hair until it burns, groom ourselves (manicures, pedicures, waxing, Botox).......wait by the phone because that ONE fricken phone call can make or break your day. Or we leave our phones at the apartment while at the gym to hope that the guy does call, and doesn't, and when guys come over we make sure to clean the apartment in a matter of 27 minutes because that’s how long it takes him to come over to your apartment from midtown in a cab on a random Thursday night at 11:30pm. And when girls do or don't have boyfriends there's always that one guy [or three] who say, "you're so beautiful, why don't you have a boyfriend.....", then the girl says, "I don’t know, good question....im so pretty, im so funny im sooo blah blah blah" and then the guy puts in time to talk to this girl only because he wants to go home with her and have sex. And we always, ALWAYS over think situations because we're so used to the excuses, very jaded, and we've read the books...the rules, he's just not that into you, bridezillas. And all we want is good hair, a husband, 2.5 kids and a range rover; is that so hard to ask! And we all sit in our tiny little apartments, the size of a shoe box [or dollhouse, as I like to call it], and wait patiently for prince charming to knock down our door and say, "hiiloveyousomuchmarrymenowplease" [in one breath] and nope, never happens.

Ok, so that never happens, whatever.....it only happens in the movies, blah blah blah....

Did you ever think that maybe producers and writers make love story movies because they know that America is missing the main ingredient of love? For example, take the french. They’re always kissing, snuggling, taking trips together half naked on their Vespa’s....

Ooh, I want a Vespa....

Seriously though, you never hear about real true love. Yes, we all read about Hollywood love stories, but in reality we’re not B list celebrities who get knocked up by Tom Cruise or 5'4" gorgeous, A-list women with bee-sting lips half semi married to Brad Pitt, even if it hasn’t been legalized [yet].

When I was in the 8^th grade, a movie about a clueless girl and her friends came out and let me just tell you....it was my favorite movie.....still is, and I’m way past the age of 14. Although the movie was about an amazing girl, I really think the movie should have been about how clueless guys are. Do they even know we exist? Sure they do...but not the ones we’re interested in.

In New York, there are many stereotypes that I’ve seen happen and made into reality. First there’s the “hoot and holler guy”, who usually works construction, and yells things out to you [only when he’s with his other construction buddies]. He might say, “hey beautiful!!” or “nice legs!!” And you don’t turn around because that will just make you feel like an ass....even though you do want to acknowledge the fact that yes; you are beautiful, with great legs. Then there’s that guy who is too short for his ego and whispers things to you in the air while you pass him on the sidewalk. I once had a guy whisper, “I have weed, you’re sexy, I love you, nice hair...” The only thing I thought after he passed was ‘does he have multiple personalities?’ My favorite stereotype in the city is those random boys who write you emails about themselves and describe the ‘perfect’ woman they’re looking for. This one guy wrote me an email, based on my AOL profile, which by the way is totally small. How can one guy find so much in that sort of listing 200 words or less? I definitely thought I was worth way more words than 200. After the little AOL voice said, “You’ve Got Mail”, which by the way on my computer is Sarah Jessica Parker instead of the annoying man voice, I proceeded to open my mailbox and this is what I found:

Hi *smiles* my name is (Pause; let’s call this guy Mr. Maple; continue), I'm writing because my

curiosity was piqued by your profile and was wondering if perhaps we could get to know each other a bit. *politely* Now, before I go on, I have only one thing to ask of you. Please just give this note one full read before you decide whether or not to respond? (Pause; I’m guessing I’m not the first one he’s ‘targeted’; continue) *VERY politely* hopefully you are still with me *smiles* to start, I'm a 32 year old CPA (certified public accountant) (Pause; UM, duh! I know what a CPA is, I wasn’t born yesterday!!! Continue) from Vermont. (Pause; hence, Mr. Maple; continue). And, well, this online thing is a bit of a journey for me. That is, I am on a "quest for true love", which is why I am searching beyond my "local area". I realize that brings up the distance question, too. I realize you may not feel the same as me, but I see that as something which can be overcome *politely* Now, on to the fun stuff *laughs*. I suppose you might be interested in what I look like. (Pause; Ah, duh! Just because you’re a ‘CPA’ doesn’t make you hot…continueeeee…) I do have pictures available to send, but for now let me tell you that I stand approx. 6'1" at about 220lbs. I have a broad athletic build (like a linebacker, but with a neck *laughs*). Additionally, I am in the process of making several "self-improvements", including working on getting myself in the best shape of my life. I also had Lasik back in January and no longer require glasses!! *BIG smiles* But I want to stress, I am doing these things for me, not to "make myself more attractive" *sincerely* I say that because the best part of me is one which cannot be seen in a picture.It is my heart. So, I am the youngest of 7, and a VERY proud uncle of 18!! *BIG smiles* I have an awesome family and incredible friends. Like I said above, I've been extremely fortunate in my life. I consider myself so fortunate, so blessed, to have the family and friends that I do. At the center of my heart, are my nieces and nephews. Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me feel warmer inside, or more happy, then seeing them. To enter their house and literally have all of them stop what they are doing and come to spend some time with me... I don't know, it just makes me feel good, even though I know I don't deserve it... To see one of them smile or hear them laugh... It just simply makes me smile. What I am looking for in true love is, well, these same things except infinitely stronger with that one girl... For a job. Hmmm. Well, I do two things... (Pause; WHAT?!?! You JUST said you were a CPA, and now you’re saying you have two jobs, one of which is on the side? Ugh, continue…) I work for a management company where we provide management, financial and consulting services to subsidiaries of large corporations. In addition to that, I am in the process of building a little CPA practice (financial, tax, business consulting) "on the side". I love both! Well, what else? Oh, in case you hadn't figured it out, I am a hopeless romantic and do believe in true love, though not the "fairy tale" kind. I believe in REAL true love. The kind where toilet seats get left up and dishes aren't always put away. The kind where life isn't "perfect", but where two people are perfect for each other. I want to find that love where I wake up in the morning next her as she sleeps, no makeup, messed up hair, etc. and just smile. Knowing I'm the luckiest guy in the world! *sincerely* I probably shouldn't get started, because I could go for hours on this topic *blushes*. Other things about me? Well, since my profile is "hidden" (and shall stay so); (Pause; Dude. Not fair – you can’t just troll around and find random AOL profiles and have yours be ‘hidden’. What else are you ‘hiding’? Continue…) thought maybe I should tell you a little about me. The best way to descriptive myself is as a contradiction in terms. That is, as I noted above, I am a true hopeless romantic and believe in true love. But, I also have THE most active libido in the world! (Pause; I think I just threw up in my mouth – water please. Sorry, continue…) (Though it is only shared when my heart is "in it completely") I love to be active (sports, etc.) and could be found driving in the winning run on my softball team or heating the game winner at the buzzer. But you could also find me sitting quietly in a coffee shop reading philosophy *sincerely* I can, and would, defend your honor, but I'm not afraid of sappy movies or even crying at them! *smiles* I am far from perfect, but try to be the best I can for the one I love. Hmmm. On one hand, I don't know what more to right. On the other hand, what I've written to introduce myself only scratches the surface. When it all comes down to it, I'm just a decent guy with a (hopefully) pretty good heart who wants to find the woman that I can keep happy (and vice versa) for the rest of our lives. I guess I'm hoping that, maybe, just maybe, this note has piqued your curiosity enough to take a chance and get to know me a little and let me know a little about you *sincerely* So, with that, I will thank you for reading this and I look forward to hearing from you soon *smiles*

Mr. Maple

PS- I hope I didn't bore you too much *laughs, teasing*

Still gagging…sorry, give me a minute. That was the longest email I’ve ever read about someone trying to sell themselves to a profile. Now, seriously, not to be a trader to my generation and all, but who the hell writes little expressions in stars, none the less? I’m sure this guy is really sweet [in Vermont], but in my co-existing life right now, I wasn’t willing to do the ‘long distance relationship’, especially with someone who only had up to 200 words…and no photo.

Paint Your Lips With Boys and Lies

spot #1

A Tongue And Cheek Satire About Dating, And The Art Of Laughing Through A Funny Little Thing Called Life.

Welcome to my blog! I am thrilled to share my stories about dating, style, and yummy, little concoctions. My blog starts in the Big Apple, and finishes in the City of Angels.

Disclaimer: All of my stories are in fact true, and names have been changed for my sanity. Enjoy my stories, laugh along the way, and please, don't take anything I write too seriously.

You think you know, but you have no idea. This is the diary of the Future Mrs. G!!

XOXO

NEW YORK, NY; 2004

Men in Manhattan are just useless when it comes to actually picking up the phone, and calling women who actually believe that they will call on a daily basis. My theory on the whole Alexander Graham bell ordeal was to just leave it alone, and wait until the 20-30 something year olds grow up and become even more invisible. The phone wasn't my best friend really...of course some like to think it is, but I'd much rather be with someone in person than have an invention, stuck to my ear. Some think love in New York is actually a state of mind that really is an illusion of happiness for possibly a Mila second. Was there someone out there for everyone or was I setting myself up to spend yet another ho, ho, ho with the Old Saint Knicks at court side?

An hour north in wholesome Connecticut, my mom was busy planning for Easter and the Jewish holidays that we all somehow love. We were hosting with the whole family that year, which was a huge deal, because that meant I actually had to be nice to certain relatives, who I only see once a year, and who still think that I'm 10 years old-with braces, non the less. Despite my mother's scramble to get everything ready for the family, she always somehow asked every other day, (through email), if I was seeing anyone. It became worse when she enrolled my dad on the band wagon. It was as if I was blinded, and it was a test to see how blind I really was to the subject of boyfriend searching. Of course my parents had met in college, when they were 18 years old, on another invention called a staircase. Back in the early 1970's, my mom and her roommate had a party in their apartment in Boston. My dad had gone to her party, and after that night it was history. There are millions of staircases in Manhattan-you would think I'd be able to pick one and meet Mr. Right. Through trial and error and working in a trendy restaurant as the hostess-with-the-mostess, I was only meeting Mr. Right Now, and even that didn't last forever because it got old after 4 Margarita's, and a shot of punch.

All the way uptown in the heart of the Upper East Side (formally known as my bubble), I found myself pondering the fact that my odds on going to a fashion school, with mostly girls, really wasn't helping my search. Sure I dated a boy who I thought was "the one". One in high school (who came out of the closet screaming, "Surprise!!" in 2003).

I didn't get it. My mom had told me that pretty girls finish last, because the ugly ones were desperate, and needed to find strength in controlling men who actually gave them the time of day. I had always seen myself as being a pretty girl with lots of drive for life itself. Sure 8 of my guy friends had told me that the boys not giving me attention were just dumb, and missing out, but why was it that those same boys were ones I dated once upon a time?

I have to say though, NBC studios pretty much wrote my life story already, and it seemed like it was pretty accurate. Take Will & Grace for example. Girl falls for a boy; boy turns gay, then boy dates flamboyant fashion guru named Jack. (My life). Next we have Friends. Ok, so I've been told that I look like Jennifer Aniston (my idol), but according to plans, Ross was never gay...his ex wife was, and there wasn't a Carol in my co-existing lifestyle. The Summer of 2002, when my life finally took it's time in upstate New York, I wrote a letter on my deck in an Adirondack chair to NBC thanking them for writing such quirky characters into the shows some of us could actually relate to. They never wrote back, but possibly it was because the writers were too busy coming up with new characters...and a baby named Emma.

I honestly didn't have anything to complain about in life itself. Sure the dating world is a crap shoot, but who was I kidding? A good friend of mine had told me to go to a trendy bar one night by myself, and order a white wine spritzer. I did just that, and sure I had boys stare . . . but were they staring because I was alone in a bar looking like a wine-o, or did the frat boys, I'm so attracted to actually find my vintage Balenciaga Blazer with my favorite distressed Seven’s hot? Probably not. I was in fashion mode again, and then completely and utterly realized that I needed a hot, straight, tall sporty guy to compliment my obsession with designer clothes. I had always talked to one of my ex’s about fashion, and how I think argyle looks so hot with a distressed denim mini skirt, a distressed t-shirt, 1980's style, and red stilettos I saw in the window of Manolo Blahnik's. At that point of the conversation, I knew it was time to abort the operation when he commented on how his new boy flavor of the week bought a Valentino argyle sweater (at retail) with a matching red belt. Sounded a little fem to me. Now, I know I've used the word distressed like a million times already in my blog . . . possibly because the vintage worn look, when worn right, looks gorgeous on the right blonde, with blue eyes. Blonde and blue, 5 foot two . . . now that's a whole other chapter...