Deepak Chopra Punched Me in the Gut, Can You Help?

heart50 First Dates Girl was an inspired idea, or so it felt.  I’m one of those women who has devoted her life to her career and always believed, when the time was right, the man of my dreams would come along… hopefully in some “cute-meet” romantic comedy kind of way.  What can I say?  I wanted a great high-concept love story to share with my friends and family.

Well, it’s been over twenty years since I’ve been of “legal-age” to marry, and so far, HE  has not come along.  So, a little over a year ago, I decided to treat my desire for “a man to spend the rest of my life with,” the same way I went after my desires in my career.  I set a goal (50 dates- hoping I’d meet him well before I’d met my goal) and created this blog to hold me accountable.  I knew if I had an audience out there, I would keep going, even when the dating felt unbearable.

This morning, I was doing my morning mediation.  I put on Deepak Chopra’s “Inspired Me.”  Deepak instructed me, “Think for a moment about something I really wanted to happen, one of those times I was so connected to the outcome and passionate about the goal.  Yet every step I took forward I experienced an obstacle, but I pressed on because my desire was so strong, but I just couldn’t shake the struggle.”  I thought about a show I produced.  Then he asked me to recall a situation in which I had a goal in mind and every action I took toward it was comfortable, effortless, easy, my inspiration was flowing and the doors just opened one after the other.  When he finished describing this second situation, I realized that the show I’d produced fell into this second category, what he was looking for in the first was a goal that had not come to fruition easily, and didn’t feel comfortable, fun, inspired, yet it was a desire that I wouldn’t give up on.

I had to start over with a difficult goal.  But every project I’ve worked on, every job I’ve had, felt wonderful, even the bumps led to better things, it’s as if a divine intervention was taking place making sure everything worked out.  Could my life really be this wonderful?  And then a little voice inside me said, “Then why is there still a place of emptiness?”  That’s when it hit me like a punch in the gut.  The answer to Deepak’s first question was my love life, the answer to his second was my career.  So, I began the guided mediation again, using these two answers… and that’s when it go worse.

He then asked, “What was the difference between the two outcomes?”  I was forcing the first.  He pointed out, that forcing an outcome was like being stuck in traffic and moving from lane to lane, hoping that I’ll somehow get ahead of it.  He then said that when we take action that is inspired it’s like driving a car freely on an open highway, effortlessly moving toward our desire.  And here’s where it really got upsetting for me…

He said that our bodies give us cues through emotions, when we are forcing something or when we are in alignment with the universe.  He continued that it is important that we understand these cues, that they are our road maps.  “If it feels right, it is.  If it feels uncomfortable in any way, it is.”  And then he said it, “Sometimes we override those emotional cues or feelings in our bodies that tell us, we are taking a more difficult route, by forcing an outcome we desire.”

I started to cry.  I’ve been on 13 of my 50 dates.  Some guys I’ve dated a few times, one I even dated a few months, but the bottom line is: my gut told me I was taking the more difficult route on EVERY one.  It’s one thing to feel nervous for a date, the typical “butterflies” that one gets when they are excited by possibility.  But this was different.  Not one of these dates have felt like I was getting into my car and driving down an open road.  No, I was trying to weave in and out of traffic, and a few times I even had a fender bender… and let’s face it, one was a head on collision.  But, I wouldn’t give up because I had a goal, and wonderful readers who were supporting me on my journey.

Now, Deepak has knocked the wind out of me and I don’t know what to do.  Do I continue dating because if I keep going I could find “the one”?  Or, do I just wait until the right one comes along?  The former feels like I’m taking action and focusing on my desire.  The later seems like falling into my old routine and waiting for something to magically happen, while I go about my life going to yoga, coaching, acting, writing, editing my videos in my “Apple Office.”  My mom keeps telling me to wear makeup because I spend so much time working on my projects in the Apple Store that maybe I’ll meet a nice guy there (yes, I have the $99 personal training which allows me to spend hours there working in open training, and getting help from the creatives when I need it).  On Friday, one of the Apple employees was surprised by her husband (an ex-Apple employee) who had enlisted and returned home from bootcamp earlier than expected to surprise her.  The whole store watched, and teared up as the reuniting took place.  People shot video on their iPhones, purchases stopped so buyers could watch, and the couple were in their own bubble of joy. It was so romantic.  All of the employees knew their love story.  One shared it with me, and it reminded me that I haven’t pursued a date since October.  I was resolved to get back on the horse in January.  But then Deepak punched me in the gut this morning and I don’t know what to do.

I need your help.  I can’t solve a problem with the brain that created it, so I welcome your wisdom, your input, your advice, and most of all your love stories.  I want to regain my faith in my happily ever after.  So, if you would be so generous, share your love story.  Was it love at first sight?  Did you seek it out?  Should I give up and wait for love to come along?   Or do I keep pursuing it even if it means going through traffic because at any moment the jam can open up and it will be open highway?  You can post your comments anonymously if you are willing to share, or if you know someone with a great love story, ask them to share it with me.  New Years Eve has always been the toughest holiday for me to get through alone and I know your stories will help.

Thank you in advance and happy holidays!  Wishing you a fabulous New Year’s kiss…

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Is There A Way To Fix My Kate Beckinsale Blunder?

photoWhat kind of Romantic Comedy Girl am I?  With all of the scripts I’ve written and all of the movies I’ve seen… I did not think this through.  But perhaps there’s a solution and you can help me see it.  I say “you” because it’s near impossible to solve a problem with the brain that created it. Here’s what happened.

I had an idea, that I thought was an “inspired idea” in the moment.  I was given 6 dollar bills with a stamp on the back that read “Get happy. Get rich.”

So, I decided I was going to pull a Kate Beckinsale and put them back out into the universe.  My objective:  to see if one day, the man of my dreams hands one back to me making it “Serendipity”.

This was not a well thought out plan. You see, in Serendipity, John Cusack writes his number on a five dollar bill so if Kate, “Sarah” gets it back, it was fate and they are meant to be.

What’s my plan? Whoever gives it to me is my “meant to be”?  What if it’s a woman or a married man or an 18-year-old? Nope… I did not think this through.

However, my intention was good.  Put these bills out into the universe so when one comes back to me it’s a sign of something.  But what?  And that’s where you come in.  You read this because you want me to find love, right?  So, now you get to become the writer.  How do the 6 bills fit into my fate for finding love?

Can’t wait to read your responses.!

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photo 6I haven’t been to the Museum of Natural History since I was a kid, and I have to admit, having seen the movie Night At The Museum, it was a very different experience.  Especially, because Larry loves museums so much and was totally into the date.  Of course my first comment was about how I hoped he had a throw toy for the T-Rex (if you don’t get that, in the movie when the T-Rex came to life he was like a puppy, so Ben Stiller had to keep throwing him a toy). The next 45 minutes was Larry sharing his expert knowledge on the exhibits while I imagined them coming to life after the museum closed.

Here are a few of the beasts that concerned me, should we have been stuck after hours…

photo 10 photo 8 Now, the Venus Goddesses photo 9would probably have given us fascinating conversations and advice, although having been around groups of woman, I’m sure each of the three would have had her own strong opinion making the whole dating situation even more confusing.

Maybe the giant orb they were holding would have some magical insight.

But let’s face it, I don’t need advice from Goddesses or magical orbs.  I’m starting to figure this dating thing out.  Larry and I were having fun.  He was in his element since he is very smart and knows a lot of things about a lot of things… including history, he is cute (which helps), and I was my typical goofy self imagining how I was going to be leading adventures once we got locked in and the museum came to life.

There were moments when he’d be telling me a story or I’d be telling one and I’d get distracted by a cool exhibit…. squirrel (oops wrong movie)!

We would have to sit down on a bench and just talk so I could stay focused and listen or finish my own story.  We shared “ex” experiences, because he’s a blog follower so he had some questions.

photo 4There was a lot to see and I discovered that my bones weigh 20 pounds.  I don’t know how that will help me in life but I sure looked excited to find out (I’m giving two thumbs up in the picture).  I also got to see some very old photo 2saddles which made the country girl in me happy.

Then we saw the people who work in the museum doing their thing, excavating bones and stuff.  You photo 3had to read the signs pretty closely to understand what they were doing.  Larry and I both misread this sign to say: “ERIKA is working on Caudal Vertebrae from Utah from a sauropod known as Genitale.” We thought they were making a joke and naming their dinosaur genitalia with prehistoric spelling, but upon closer examination we agreed that they named her Natalie and just put a G in front of it to make it prehistoric.

On that note we went to lunch.

We each had a healthy salad, his landed on my sweater when the wind blew. photo 5Yes it was a dark balsamic vinaigrette.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my sweater was doing everything in it’s power to break up with me.  Between the vinaigrette stains and the coffee from airplane guy I’m thinking it wants to be retired.  But I love my sweater and I’m not ready to give it up over a few stains that I know Resolve can get out.

Over lunch the conversation got deeper.  He talked about his career path and then he said what I knew was “the moment I knew I was not going to date him”.  Ironically what he said was very romantic but it was the complete opposite of the relationship I want.  He had been telling me about getting his new degree after a successful career in a different field, and how he was considering going in another direction with a third career path.  So I asked him, “Which do you want to focus on?” To which he responded, “I don’t know. My priority is to find a woman to go on the journey with.  I want to find her first because I don’t want to start down a path only to meet someone who would take me on another path.”

I totally get that and think it’s really romantic that he wants to find his mate and have them decide together on which path they want to take off into the sunset.  I HOWEVER, am very clear that I want a man who is set in his path, wildly passionate about what he does, and I would just be making his good life great.  I have spent too many years with guys who were “figuring out where to go next” and being a coach, my nature is to “fix them” whether they want fixing or not.  Look, that’s part of my baggage, and I won’t bring it into a relationship if the “carry-on” doesn’t fit.  So the goal is to find a guy I have no instinctual need to fix.  Perfect example of a “it’s not him, it’s me,” I do NOT want to put myself in that situation again! I won’t.  And the bottom line is I know in my gut that the writing is on the wall.  He is not the one for me (that said, if you are reading this and he sounds like he’s for you, let me know and I’ll play matchmaker).

You also have to understand that I didn’t realize he almost 10 years younger than me.  That’s a huge age gap.  My thirties were a time of figuring things out, my forties are a time of reflecting and being totally honest with myself about what I want and choosing a partner in life for the right reasons.  It’s clear from the dates I’ve been on that I’m going to meet lots of great guys.  That doesn’t mean they are great for me, or I for them.  Trusting my gut is playing a huge part and I’ll know when I find him.  With my first love, I felt it instantly, and that feeling never went away.  I know I will feel that way again one day.  I’m watching it happen before my eyes with someone I love, and seeing her fall in love with the right man brings me so much joy and reminds me to stay the path and I will feel that again.

Or I can go back to the museum and ask the prehistoric crystal ball to simply reveal him to me so I can stop at date #14… photo 1



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photoI didn’t have a date to write about this week, so I thought I’d share a slice of my life with you (in romantic comedy form of course).  These are true and accurate events that occurred yesterday on my way back to the states from Canada. Now, because I’m writing this as if I were living a true life Rom Com, I need a female sidekick. In this case, I’d like to introduce you to Lady Bug.  She is my travel companion (AKA carry-on) and has been on many adventures with me throughout the United States, Canada, Europe, South America, and Australia.  Luckily for me, she doesn’t talk or this would turn into one of those potty-mouthed comedies.

We meet our heroine (that’s me) as I enter the Winnipeg airport.  I seem like an attractive highly, intelligent, woman, as I easily and effortlessly put my passport on the machine to print out my boarding passes.  Upon receiving them, I identify which is the one I need for the first leg of my journey and proceed to gate 14E which is printed clearly enough for me to read without my glasses at 4am.

The airport is bigger than I expected, and in addition to rolling Lady Bug around (for the guys reading this, just insert R2D2 every time I say Lady Bug.  She is the red version of him and you’ll feel more manly if you relate this to Star Wars), I was carrying what felt like a 25 pound bag on my shoulder.

Being directionally impaired, I pay extra attention to signs in airports before making any course of action decisions, so when I saw the arrow pointing right for Gates 1-7 and the arrow pointing left for Gates 8-20, I was 100% sure that gate 14 was to the left.  So Lady Bug (red R2D2) and I (and the now 35 pound bag on my shoulder) headed left, passed 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13… 15, 16 , 17…. hmm. I looked around. I saw up to 20 ahead of me, but no 14.  This wasn’t an elevator where they leave off the 13th floor for superstitious people.  Where was Gate 14? I walked back to 8 and started over, Lady Bug happily rolling along while shoulder bag somehow expanded to now weighing 40 pounds.

I stopped at the intersection of 13 and 15.  Where the heck was 14?  At that point, I let go of Lady Bug, but instead of standing on her own two wheels like most carry-ons, she is shaped like the letter D, so she toppled forward.  As my sidekick, I realized she was helping me out because she fell right in the direction of a cute guy in uniform who worked there.  I walked up confidently (despite the static electricity in my hair from the cold weather that made me look like an 8th grade science experiment) and said, “Excuse me, am I crazy or is there no Gate 14 here?”  He looked around and agreed there was in fact no Gate 14, which he too thought was odd.  So I showed him my boarding pass and pointed to 14E, to which he responded, “That’s your seat number, you want to go to Gate 6 which is the opposite side of the terminal.”  Rather than admit I was at that age where you instantly need glasses, I exclaimed, “That’s what happens when you wake me up at 4am.” He gave me an empathetic smile, at least that’s what I tell myself… if I’m being totally honest I’m pretty sure he thought I was an idiot.

Next we cut to the typical Rom Com “Cute Meet” where our leading lady meets her handsome leading man in some cute way… well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen…

I have this physical anchor that I do on planes.  As soon as I’m in my seat, I overlap my hands in my lap, press my thumbs together, close my eyes, and I’m asleep before take off.  I don’t even push the seat back and the next thing I hear is the pilot telling us to prepare for landing.  Only, on this trip the next thing I heard was, “Ma’am… Ma’am….. MA’ME!”  It was a man’s voice, but what was so irritating was not that he was waking me up, but… when did I go from Miss to Ma’am?  Seriously, when did that happen?  He didn’t have a Southern accent, so it wasn’t an upbringing thing… nope, it’s happened. I’m officially a Ma’am.

As I started to open my eyes, and move around, he said, “I am SO sorry, I photo 2spilled my coffee on you.”

Now at this point, as the heroine, I’m supposed to turn and look into the sexy eyes of Bradley Cooper and forget all about the coffee stains on my $190 camel sweater that have soaked through to my white pants (my fault for wearing white after Labor Day).  But instead, I looked into the red face of a bumbling Kevin James, who can’t stop apologizing and is handing me mounds of Starbucks napkins.  I did the best I could with the sweater and knew there was no helping the pants.  Lady Bug was stowed in the overhead compartment so she couldn’t offer me a change of pants.  In the end, he was so flummoxed, that I felt more sorry for him than my clothes so I went back to sleep.  Once we landed he apologized more, which would have meant something had he offered to pay for my dry cleaning, but he didn’t. I would have said it wasn’t necessary, but he should have offered.

As we enter Act 2, I am alone in the Edmonton airport, once again trying to follow the correct signs, when I am told I have to go through security again because American customs is actually here in Canada.  Alright, I’m a pro at security. I dress for it.. know the drill.  Lady Bug goes first, then my sweaters and shoes and empty water bottle in one tray, then my laptop in a second tray, the my now 25 pound bag (I had a rest on the 1st flight) in a third tray.  I show my boarding pass to the security guard and I have nothing in my pockets or any metal on me or in me.  But then the French security guard asked me a question I’d never heard before, “Do you carry coffeemogetermose?” Huh? He repeated and pointed to my bag, “Any cowfeemoge or termouse?”

“I’m sorry I said,” I don’t understand what you’re asking me.  He gestured a mug with a lid, “Cowfee mug or turmose?”  All of a sudden I remembered the gift that I’d been given from Film Training Manitoba.  It was a ceramic coffee mug with a rubber lid.  “Oh,” I said, “A coffee mug or thermos?”

“That’s what I said!” he demanded as his seasoned security expertise must have registered the look of realization on my face that I indeed had packed one.  I reached for my bag to take it out, when I remembered to protect the ceramic, I killed two birds with one stone… I stuffed it with my dirty underwear and wrapped it in a plastic 1I mean why use the bubble wrap it came in when you can protect it with dirty underwear?  This realization had me freeze up. I couldn’t pull out a mug with dirty underwear stuffed in it, so I asked, “Why do you need to see a mug or thermos?” He answered (and might I add he looked like Borat which was making it even harder for me to keep a straight face between his accent and my dirty little secret) “Because we have to test it.”  It was then that I remembered that because my dirty underwear was in it, I had packed it in Lady Bug who was now going through the screener, so I quickly moved from tray 3 with my bag to tray 1 with my water bottle and said, “Here it is!” offering him my empty refillable water bottle.  He was now getting angry and I was holding up the line.  “But this is not a cowfeemoge or termouse! It is a bottle.”

“I know I said, but sometimes I refill it with coffee.”  This did not please him. “You are testing my English!” I went back to my original excuse for the day, “I’m sorry, I’ve been up since 4am, I’m testing my own English.” And then I was waved through and prayed that the guy looking through the X-ray would not notice my coffeemouge in Lady Bug and make me pull it out to be tested, because the thought of having to pull it out with the underwear and the angry Borat, was just not ideal.

Luckily we made it through, but the final act is like a typical Rom Com… me running through an airport terminal as if to stop the man I love from leaving me and making the biggest mistake of our lives.  But let me step back to where it all began.

After going through security I found myself on a long line to get through customs which didn’t seem so bad at first, although I didn’t understand why the hold up was here and not once I actually entered the states… but after about 45 minutes, I woke up enough to ask someone what time it was.  “8:20,” she said.  I looked at my boarding pass (this time in the correct place) and it read ‘boarding time 8:25!’  Ummm okay.  A little panic.  Lady Bug fell over which didn’t help the situation and now my shoulder bag weighed 50 pounds so I put it down.  The people in line around me started to rally (though none of them offered to let me cut them in line).  I announced, “I still have a half hour until they take off but I’m going to be that girl running for the gate.  Are they far from here?”  The Canadian gentleman in front of me said, “No, they’re just around the way.  We’ll all cheer you on as you run.”

Twenty minutes later I was through customs.  Now before I tell you about my mad dash, let me preface it by explaining that I was leaving 6 degree celsius weather, so I was wearing UGG boots and under my white coffee stained pants, I was wearing (now) coffee stained thermal underwear, and under my sweater I was wearing thermal underwear, under which I was wearing a tank top, and because the plane can be cold I had my thick, blue turtleneck sweater tied around my waist.  And guess what?  The guy lied!  The gates were not around the corner.  In fact I was running passed people on the people mover which is that escalator on the floor and running on the floor and then running on the next people mover because the gates are so darn far, and then running more, sweating my butt off (so much for my reputation of not sweating…see my last post.  Mitch is right I DO need a deodorant sponsor for this blog) running and running Lady Bug twirling around because of her odd shape making me drag her until she found her wheels again.  Finally at 9am I arrived at gate 80 panting and sweating, trying to catch my breath, only to hear the announcement that my flight had not been delayed but boarding had, so it would be a few more minutes.

Oh, thank heavens!  I immediately put Lady Bug against a chair, my 70 pound shoulder bag on top of Lady Bug, and began stripping!  There was nothing I could do about the thermals under my pants, but everything else was coming off down to my tank top.  As everyone watched, bewildered, I heard a clapping behind me.  It was the Canadian gentleman from the customs line.  “I see ya made it, eh?” he smiled.  Did I mention he was cute? “I did indeed,” I smiled back.  And had he been on his way to Los Angeles perhaps this story would have had a happy ending, but instead I was just happy enough to find myself in 16F relieved to discover I had the whole row to myself, so I could lie down without fear of having cranberry, tomato, or grape juice spilled on me.

Now… time to find myself my next date…


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Apparently, #StressSweat smells worse than heat and activity sweat.  I’d seen these commercials many times, but never paid attention to them.  After all, I don’t sweat. My friends make fun of me calling me a Cyborg. Screen Shot 2013-10-13 at 11.41.00 AM I do yoga, cardio, weights, go to the beach, have sex… oh wait, scratch that last one (can’t remember the last time that happened.. but I know I didn’t sweat).. no sweat.  Maybe it’s the Ladies’ Mitchum, but I don’t think so.  I just don’t sweat so I ignored the Secret commercials.  That was, not until “it” happened…

When I last left you, I was on the fence about what to do about Edward. My gut was saying that I was just not that into him (hmmm… sounds like a future date post) but I wanted to go home, be in my own surroundings, and reflect.  The stress of the situation may have made it difficult to get past the circumstances and determine if I wanted to see him again.

So, I waited.  Edward kept with our routine, texting and calling me.  I didn’t take his calls, but I did text him back, though not always right away.  I noticed I wasn’t feeling excited to get them as I had before we met. That’s how I knew it was not right.  A week went by, and when he texted me Sunday about making plans to fly down and see me the following week, I knew I had to call him immediately and end it.   This guy was in 5th gear and I was about to bring him to a grinding halt.

I asked my assistant (Siri) to dial him, and that’s when it started.  Sweat pouring out of my armpits.  Being inexperienced with perspiration, I became focused on what was now soaking my tank top instead of focusing on the conversation that Edward was having on the other end of my phone.  Good thing Siri was listening because I was both shocked and amused by the amount of wetness being generated by the knowledge that I was about to end things with this guy who was talking a mile a minute about everything he’d done in the past week.  I couldn’t get a word in which was fine because I was far more engrossed in my armpit phenomenon.  And then the way you ‘hear your name at a crowded party’ I heard him say, so I’m moving into the city next week but I’m going to make reservations to come down for two days and-”

“Edward!” I interrupted, as I noticed that stress sweat does in fact have an oder, “I don’t think you should come down here.  I think we are at two different places and you are moving way too fast for me.  (Then I quoted Ray.. see? I do listen to you all.) I had a great time and I’m flattered that you did everything to make it special… but I don’t have the same feelings as you, and I don’t want to string you along trying to figure out if it is going to work.  I don’t believe it is.  And I doubt you need anymore friends, but I do think you are a wonderful person.”

To which he responded, “I appreciate you being honest and not dragging it out.  I wish you the best in everything, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

And then we hung up.  And then I got a whiff of my pits and DANG! Stress sweat DOES STINK!!! I was ripe! I’m talking, I smelled like an A-list movie star who doesn’t use deodorant and thinks he doesn’t have to shower because he’s hot and then comes to the gym and smells the whole place up (you know who you are!) Here’s my Tweetable for the week:

“Who knew that breaking up required a shower?”-@50FirstDatesG

By the way, between Edward and Happy Gilmore, these were the two most mature guys I ever broke up with.  No discussion, no negotiation, just a “thanks for being honest, and good luck.”

Granted, Edward added the “talk to you soon,” but that was clearly out of habit because I have not heard from him.

I have been in touch with George (the soccer player). He makes me laugh and is very empathetic on football day him being a Dolphins fan and me being a Giants fan.  He’s been doing his weekly consoling which has helped.

I’ll be traveling for the next three weeks, but when I get back, I look forward to setting up date number 3 with him.



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IMG_2531I woke up on the couch and Edward immediately called to me and apologized for me having to sleep on the couch.  I didn’t care, I was perfectly comfortable and so tired that I slept like a log.  We had time for breakfast and then I’d be off to the airport.

We ate in the dining room which was very old south.  He had a newspaper, (which is usually one of my pet peeves… I don’t like when I’m having a meal with someone and they read the paper) but when he realized I had no interest in reading, he read me the sports page (It was Sunday so we have a love of football in common even if we love different teams).  It was cute.

And then it was time for me to go.  I definitely felt a weight lifted off of me once I was in the cab headed toward the airport.  I had a really good time with him, but discovered I don’t like the feeling of being “trapped.”  Even though I technically wasn’t, deep down, I felt like he had paid for the trip and everything else, I didn’t know anyone in the city, I couldn’t leave (not that I wanted to) and I was trapped.  I couldn’t even tell if I liked him because I had no choice but to like him for three days.

So, I sat with it.  I looked at all the pictures I’d taken, my souveneirs he’d photothoughtfully bought me, read my poem.  He was romantic, thoughtful, generous, and affectionate.

I thought about what he does.  Like Pretty Woman’s Edward, he is in finance.  He buys companies in distress and rebuilds them.  He is used to a fast pace and closing deals.  Much of his conversation (at least what sticks out in my mind) was about things we were going to do together in the future, trips we were going to take, a place he was going to buy in Florida.  I don’t know, he may have planned to buy a place in Florida before he met me, but the whole thing was too fast.  As I said before, it felt like insta-relationship, and that is not my speed.

My friend/his cousin, thinks I’m looking for something “wrong” but I’m not.  I’m looking for something right, and my gut is telling me this isn’t it.  And after re-reading my last two entries, I’d say it’s high time I listened to my gut.  The hard part is what to say to him.  He thinks he “closed the deal.”  I did have a good time, NOLA was amazing, but Shakira’s hips don’t lie and neither does my gut.  Something isn’t clicking for me.  How do I tell a good guy who just showered me with extravagance, who with all the kissing thinks we’re a couple, that he is completely wrong?  I don’t want to hurt his feelings and “I just don’t feel it in my gut” sounds so LA (Los Angeles…which I am).  This is the part of dating that makes me not want to date!!!!

It’s a good thing I committed 50 of these to you or I would give up now! HELP!!! Advice please!!! @50FirstDatesG

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IMG_4317I woke up in denial.  You see my brain was saying, “This is so nice waking up in a guy’s arms,” but my gut was saying “WTF?!?!?  You haven’t woken up in a guy’s arms since your fiancé in 2008, who does this guy think he is to “insta-relationship” you like this? And what’s up with kissing before brushing of the teeth? That doesn’t happen until date 20 when it’s appropriate to wake up in a man’s arms!”

But of course, I pushed down my gut and listened to my head because I had a full day, a full night, and a morning left to spend with Edward and I wanted to not only enjoy it, but also to get to know him and see if there was a possibility for a relationship.

IMG_4362He ordered room service for breakfast and as I sat down to eat in my bathrobe with a full spread in front of me, I wanted to quote Julia Roberts again and grab a lock of my hair and say, “Red,” and have Edward reply, “Better.”

But then I remembered I had not worn a blond bobbed wig because I was not a prostitute in his hotel suite… or was I, I just wasn’t getting paid and he wasn’t getting laid? (Shut up GUT!)

It was raining out, so Edward and I worked out in the hotel gym and then he took me to see a movie (The Butler) in one of those fancy theaters where they serve IMG_4366food and adult beverages at your giant sized seat.  I loved the theater, and the movie was great, but it made me cry.  My gut seized the opportunity to get a good cry out and blame it on the movie.  Unable to respond to his question, “What did you take away from the movie?” after telling me his 3 takeaways (which by the way were the same 3 as mine), I excused myself to the bathroom so I could finish my cry and clean up my mascara marks.

Throughout the morning there was more kissing. He knew I was stressed out and his kisses actually calmed me… or so my brain said, not so sure my gut agreed, but we weren’t listening to my gut.

When we got back to the hotel it got weird again.  His daughter went to school in NOLA and he wanted to take me to see the campus and meet her.  WHAT?!?!? Am I crazy or is it too much too fast to introduce a first date to your kid?!?!?  But he’d been so kind, thoughtful and accommodating, I felt obligated, besides he was so excited about it, I couldn’t say no… or at least I wouldn’t say no.  But his daughter did!  She said that she felt uncomfortable and he felt terrible asking if it was okay to go alone.  I told him I was glad that she said something because I felt the same way (so much for speaking my mind in yesterday’s Tweet-able).

So, off he went and I was alone at last.  Now it was time to really go all out Pretty Woman Style! BUBBLE BATH!!!!


After my bath, I fell asleep on the couch. It was very comfortable and when I woke up, Edward informed me that I’d been napping for 3 hours.  He’d napped and showered in that time, and was waiting for me to wake up so we could go on the ghost tour… YAY!  I was very excited for that.

IMG_4371We stopped at an incredible restaurant called August to get a little something since our dinner reservation wasn’t until 10pm and I hadn’t had lunch (don’t worry @everywomanover29 I had my snacks with me and was eating on day 2).  We had the most amazing gazpacho, with crab salad in the middle and lemon sorbet on top. Totally Top Chef!

Then the ghost tour… yippee!! It was a walking tour, and Edward was smart IMG_4373enough to bring umbrellas for us as it did rain most of the tour.  But that just added to the ambience. We heard all kinds of grotesque stories about brutal and painful deaths and the ghosts that now haunted the buildings because of it.  We even stopped at a haunted bar so the group could get Hurricanes and Voodoo drinks.  Which brings me to my Tweet-able:

“I got hit on by a Pirate Ghost, in a haunted bar in New Orleans on a 1st Date. Awesome!” @50FirstDatesG

In the bar, I felt Edward’s hairy arm brush against mine, only to look up and see that he was a few feet away from me and then my arm started to itch.  The tour guide told us that the bar was haunted by pirates who often hit on woman and unhooked their bra strap… good thing I wasn’t wearing one 😉 . She also confirmed that the itchiness was indeed due to a ghost.  I will choose to believe her because it makes my story more exciting, not to mention IMG_4381I took a picture of Edward outside of the bar in which you can see his entire body but a light makes it so you can’t see his head.  The Pirate Ghost was C-Blocking my date!


The tour guide encouraged us to keep taking pictures in the hopes of capturing an orb or spirit.  We saw the mansion that Nic Cage bought not knowing all the gruesome deaths that had occurred there and sounded like a storyline for American Horror Story.  I took three pictures in a row. The first and third were normal, the second looked like the spirit of Zac Brown… only he’s still alive, so I guess they had cool looking country singers back in the days of yore.

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After the tour we went to Revolution for dinner.  We had four staff members taking care of us.  The food was delicious.  It’s hard to get the full New Orleans experience when you don’t drink or eat gluten, or sugar, or caffeine… but I decided to break my sugar/caffeine for the night since they brought me a plate of gluten free desserts to try.  I had the tiniest bit of each so I wasn’t affected.  There was no chocolate in any of them and that’s what usually gets me immediately.

After dinner we were tired and he said he would probably be snoring before I finished brushing my teeth.  He wasn’t kidding.  It was like a lion roaring in the room by the time I got in there and my ear buds weren’t shutting it out.  So, I went to sleep on the couch and day 2 was over…


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IMG_4311“Did you sext with him? Were you dirty Skyping?” My friend Doug asked.

“No!” I replied, “Not even close! I barely shared stories with him because I wanted to be sure we had things to talk about while I was there.”

“Then it was totally inappropriate and presumptuous on his part,” Doug concluded. From the mouth of a guy, so I guess it was normal to have the reaction I did…


But let me start from the beginning.  My friend of over thirty years set me up with her cousin.  We’ve been texting and speaking on the phone daily since our first contact at the end of July.  He lived in NY, I’m in FL, and he’s passionate about travel.  First date… a trip to New Orleans.

I was excited to meet him. I was excited to explore a new city with him.  So, I laughed off the guy in the airport who found it so bizarre that I was meeting a first date in New Orleans, that he insisted on giving me his number in case it didn’t work out.  As if it wouldn’t be more bizarre to call this stranger to save me from a bad date.

And it wasn’t a bad date. It was an amazing date and it was an overwhelming date. Therefore, I’m going to break this blog entry into 3 parts: Day 1, Day 2, Day3/Aftermath.


The day had finally arrived. Edward was flying me to New Orleans, he’d given me the hotel information and I was going to meet him there.  At this point, I had looked up the hotel and it was extravagantly gorgeous.  He had texted me to meet him at the hotel… our room number was 1007.  I found that troubling.  While we hadn’t discussed room accommodations, every other man who had proposed an out of town date, led with, “And I’ll get you your own room so you feel comfortable.”  I just assumed that him being so gentlemanly and thoughtful, he would have reserved me my own room… I mean even Chris Harrison waits two months before he offers the women the option to take their own room or go with the Bachelor to the Fantasy Suite.

But, then again, he could have gotten a suite with two bedrooms, and all of the pictures of the rooms I’d seen online had two queen-sized beds, so I decided to wait to see what the story was.

He greeted me in the lobby with a big kiss on the lips. Not a peck, a kiss like you’d give your girlfriend whom you haven’t seen in a month. Okay, so this guy is more affectionate than me. Not that I’m not affectionate, it just takes me time to warm up to someone, trust them, feel comfortable with them before I go “all-in.”

When he opened the door to our room, it was huge and beautiful as I walked through.  And then I saw it…


One king-sized bed! As Julia Roberts would say, “Big mistake, Big… Huge!” I honestly believe I was in shock.  My gut had a hundred questions it wanted answered immediately before it went into panic mode, like “What does this guy think I’m going to do with him?” “Did I give off some kind of signal that I am a slut?” “Did just agreeing to come here send a message that I am going to sleep with him?” Sh*t! This dating stuff is new to me and I don’t know the rules!!!!

Then my brain/logic side took over, “You are here for two nights and 3 days, you are not going to do anything you don’t want to do, you can handle this!”

So, I put my luggage down, we got in a cab, and we drove off to a part of town he wanted to show me.  First thing he did on the quaint little street was take me into a store and buy me a cute NOLA t-shirt.  He said that we could stop in any store I wanted, and do anything I want to do.  He also wanted to buy me lunch since I hadn’t eaten in 6 hours, but I wasn’t hungry yet. We went into a few art galleries and thrift shops.  He kept telling me how beautiful I am and kissing me, while we shared stories getting to know each other.  It was very normal, and natural, as I’d expected it would be from the phone calls we had had, but something was brewing inside of me.  He had a business call which gave me time to eat a little something, as I had no appetite and I had to force myself to eat.  My brain was not letting my gut speak up but my gut was fighting hard.

After his call we took a cab back to the hotel to get ready for a walk to the French Quarter. I could feel my nerves growing as we got closer to the hotel and the moment the cab dropped us off, I pulled Edward away from the hotel to a bench and sat him down.  (This is my Tweetable for this entry because I believe all women should speak their mind when they are uncomfortable)

“I’m really uncomfortable about the room. I was not expecting a king-sized bed, & I’m not sure what you’re expecting.” @50FirstDatesG

“We’re both adults,” he said, “We can do what ever we want. If you just want to kiss and cuddle that’s fine, if we want more, we can do what we want.”

I can’t stand that “we’re adults” crap.  So what, we are adults, what does that mean? Adults drive drunk, gamble away their homes, and murder people. Being an adult has nothing to do with sex other than you’ve learned through your many years of experience that it has consequences.  I had to put my foot down and set some boundaries or this trip would be ruined. “I am fine with kissing, but nothing else, I want to be clear about that.”

I was clear because he was a perfect gentleman after that and I was able to enjoy the rest of the day.

The French quarter was so interesting; street performers, architecture, ghost IMG_4323tours, fascinating window dressing, colorful art galleries, music, history, food… We explored a voodoo museum and IMG_4343then went to a famous dueling piano bar. He bought me NY Giants beads and told me I had to wear them all weekend.  I have never seen a city as committed to a sports team as New Orleans is to their Saints!  It was a risk, but the way the Giants have been playing, I figured no one would feel threated.  We walked down Bourbon street which was already crawling with drunks in the middle of the afternoon, carrying their open containers.  I decided I did not need to come back to this street at night when they were completely wasted and in masses.

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We went back to the hotel, showered (separately), and he took me for a lovely dinner at Commanders Palace Restaurant.  A table of drunk, though striking looking 60-somethings, sat next to us. They kept apologizing for being loud and obnoxious.  Edward told them we IMG_4349were on our honeymoon and as an actress, I had no trouble improving the scene with him.


After we went to the French Quarter to listen to music.  One woman insisted on seeing my ID and was not IMG_4350kidding when she looked at me and told me that she thought I was an underage college student.  For that I needed to take a picture with her.

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Edward’s romancing me continued as he found the street IMG_4359poets he’d read about and had one type up a poem for me.  It had the Monkees in it, so I loved it. We listened to a little more music and then, both of us being tired, went back to the hotel to go to sleep.

He did as he promised and kissed me goodnight and was asleep in seconds.  The stress of the situation had taken it’s toll on me early on, and so I put on a meditation MP3 and went to sleep, wondering what day two would bring…

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Is This My Craziest First Date Yet?

Screen Shot 2013-09-18 at 2.16.18 PMHave you ever wanted to go visit a new city in a state you’ve never been to?  Have you ever agreed to go to that city on a first date with a guy you’ve never met?  Well, now I can say I have.  I’ve agreed to be flown to a new city that I’ve always wanted to visit, for a weekend with a guy I’ve never met.  Crazy?  I don’t think so.  He’s my close friend’s cousin, and I’ve heard about him since I was a kid.  She always looked up to him.

He got in touch with me for the first time on July 29th.  At the time he didn’t realize I was in Florida (he’s in NY) but that didn’t deter him.  Since then we’ve been talking and texting everyday.  It almost feels like we’re in a relationship already.  So much so, that I felt a little guilty going out with George, but my other friend talked reason into me… “You haven’t even met the other guy yet, just go out with George!”

I did, as you all know from my last two entries.

I’m really excited about my weekend getaway though!  He’s made all the arrangements, all the plans… which leads me to my Tweetable:

“Sometimes you just gotta fly by the seat of your pants” @50FirstDatesG

… and a seat on Southwest airlines 🙂

What I especially like, is that I’ve already fallen for his personality through talking to him, and though I have an idea what he looks like (he always sends pictures of himself from far away with sunglasses and hats), it really doesn’t matter because I’m already “in like” with him.  I know, I know… don’t set my expectations too high, but I can’t help it.  He doesn’t play games, he says what he’s thinking and he’s extremely thoughtful.  All qualities I look for.  So as long as he doesn’t call me a C-word or punch me in the face, the odds are stacked in his favor.

I leave Friday and get back Sunday.  My mom wants to know if he got us separate hotel rooms… I don’t know… flyin’ by the seat of my pants.

Next time you hear from me, you’ll know how it went.  Will Date #12 be it?  Will George call even though I didn’t sell him my leased car?  Will I really have to go on 50 of these things? These questions and more answered.. as my world turns.

What’s the craziest thing you ever agreed to on a date?

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photoI was on my way back from Georgia, and George had been calling and texting since we met, so I was excited to see him again on my way back home. I stopped off for an overnight at my friend’s and she was thrilled that I was seeing George again.  Our date was very similar to the first; soccer, dinner, and shopping. Only this time, the shopping was much better! The first time, as you may recall, we went to Publix for groceries, kind of a weird turn on a date, but I liked the comfort factor of it.

This time he took me to his friends’ second hand shop, where they have a party once a month. This month, they had a DJ and a runway show. It was very copy I’ve been to a lot of second hand stores in Los Angeles, but the clothes are pretty beat up. This place was AWESOME! I couldn’t help myself… I bought a sequin shirt/dress, a brown fringed suede vest, and a fabulous, form fitting sweater that will look photo copy 2fabulous on me when I wear it in the cold. (Note: I have not been in the cold since I decided to spend the Millennium New Year in NYC- but who knows, perhaps this sweater will inspire me to take a trip to Colorado this winter).

Here’s a TWEETBALE for you:

“When in doubt.. take a girl shopping!”- @50FirstDatesG

After indulging in fashion bargains, George took me out to dinner. His soccer game wasn’t until 11:15pm that night, so we had time to talk over a yummy meal. I have to say I’m crushin’ on George. He’s so upbeat and funny. Every time he calls me and leaves a message, I crack up from his messages, even if it’s just “Hey Jessica, it’s “George” calling to say hello,” because his tonality is so funny.. it always sounds like he’s leaving the message while he is taking a big stretch, and I can just imagine his arms reeeeaching out as he speaks into his speaker phone.

There was a good acoustic duo playing music, the food was healthy considering all of the photo copy 3TVs that verified that this was a sports bar, and the crowd was pretty mellow (probably because the sports were tennis and baseball).

During dinner, he asked if I’d ever been in a long distance relationship before. Twenty years ago when I graduated before my boyfriend, I would drive 2 1/2 hours every weekend to see him. This is the same distance… so there is possibility. We talked about family and what we like to do when we are not working. It was reassuring to hear things like tennis vs a fascination with crime (BTW I broke up with Happy Gilmore after date 3. His crime interest was a little freaky to me, and other than liking movies (though not the same ones) we had nothing in common).

After dinner, it was off to his game. I got to know his teammates better, and they were happy to see me because they said he plays better when I’m there and they were playing the #1 undefeated team.  George’s team beat the pants off of them!  After, when we sat around in the bar area, the team offered to fly me out for the playoffs 🙂

I’m home now and George continues to call and text, so we’ll see how this long distance dating turns out.  It seems to be my theme lately… but you’ll have to read about that in the next blog because George isn’t the only long distance man in my life…

A cliffhanger… intriguing (I hope).  Anyone out there with experience in dating more than one person at a time and liking them both? Curious to hear how it turned out for you. Please share in the comments below…

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