Thanks for all your comments and words of wisdom

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Wow. I'm overwhelmed by all the thoughtful and wonderful and long comments I received on my last post! I am so lucky to have such great readers. I have decided to dedicate this post to those awesome comments and words of wisdom.

But before I address individual comments, I have a few comments of my own.

One recurring theme that came up in the comments is that maybe if I meet the right person, I will want to change. This is true. Absolutely. I do not close myself off to that possibility. Not at all. I do recognize that while it's unlikely, I am totally capable of meeting a Bostonian guy who wears Red Sox hats and khakis and has never lived abroad and never wants to but he has all the other qualities that I'm looking for in someone. If he makes me really happy. If he makes me fall for him. If we have an amazing connection and amazing chemistry. If we have a great time together. If he challenges me and supports me and loves me. Then everything else is negotiable. I think  Catherine said it so well:

Maybe you'll meet someone who will want to change for you.

 Perhaps you'll meet someone you want to change for.

 Perhaps what you want will change

I love that. It's so perfect. It leaves all the doors of possibility open.

But until I meet that guy, then I'm going to keep the ever evolving list in my head of the perfect man for me at this time in my life. And I'm not going to feel bad about having those standards or wanting those ideals just as I'm not going to rule out someone I really connect with because he doesn't check all the boxes.

I've been reading Elizabeth Gilbert's book called Committed - the follow up to Eat Pray Love - which is absolutely amazing by the way and I highly recommend it to everyone (I will most likely be blogging about this at some point). She talks a lot about the beauty of modern Western culture is that we have so many choices, but it's also the problem with our culture. With all those choices, comes decisions and with decisions, comes choices that we didn't take. And with that can come doubt and uncertainty. We ask ourselves did we take the right path in life? And what would our lives look like if we went down another path? What is the best path to happiness? And that's where I'm at right now, trying to figure out what the best path to happiness is. What truly makes me happy...

Okay... now on to your awesome comments:

First Date Only - I totally understand what you are saying. I have found myself saying things like "the other day when I was in Moscow" (this was a couple Christmas' ago when I was visiting the US after extensive travels), or more recently commenting on how the last time I had great Italian food was in Rome (oops - this was more recent and kind of popped out before I could filter the thought better). I never mean to sound pretentious. Like you said, it's just my experience!

Robin - Wow! Moscow. Awesome. I've visited many times and have always wondered what it would be like to live there. Looking forward to checking out your blog!

Claudy - where were you when I needed you? And why did I not know you when I was in the UK? I would never make you wash dishes in Bali. Option "c" sounds like a fabulous deal to me. Are you serious? If you are, I'm so in! ;)

Katie @Domestiphobia - Oh how you tease me... Just close all 3 doors and open another one. That's kind of a good idea actually. Although I secretly think that you are tempting me to run away with you again. How about Spain? I've always wanted to live in Madrid. Or Buenos Aires perhaps?

Well this is awkward - It's funny because you mention that you are only 22 and of course my initial thought is to be insanely jealous of you for your youth and wish that I was 22 again. And in my second more rational thought (because backward time travel is unfortunately totally irrational as far as I know, right)? I then think about what advice I would give you... And ironically the first advice that pops into my head is: travel, travel, travel. See the world! Broaden your horizons! Meet lots of great people. So, I guess you are right, I shouldn't (and probably don't) have any regrets if that is my impulsive advice to you is that you should go out and do the same things I did (rather than choosing a more traditional path in life). But I think you show wisdom beyond your years with the following: 

I also agree that while traveling can be eye opening and you are often happy doing it, sometimes it can contribute to your overall sadness, especially when you move back "home." 

You are right! I think all my traveling right now is contributing to my overall sadness.

Pretty Young Thing - As always, thanks for the support. I'm glad that you are getting a taste of the travel bug. And you are right! I should come to NYC and hang out for a weekend. I LOVE the quote you left:

 "Home is not where you live but where they understand you" 

So true! I'm still trying to figure out where I'm most understood. The first few years I lived abroad, I felt that I was most understood here in the US. And now it feels like that place is in Europe. It's all so confusing!

Julianna - Your comment made me laugh the hardest! I LOVE this:

American men? European Men? Asian? Austrailian? 

They all suck. They're men. 

They think with two minds that don't communicate with others well. 

The trick is to find one that communicates with you.

Then the rest will fall into place. 

So well said - especially about the two minds not communicating. So true! But on a more serious note, you have a great point - if I find the right person, my priorities might change. And by the way, Almost Hubs and his Mother sound fabulous! Do you ever let her pluck chickens in the kitchen? I bet the boys would love that! It would also make a very good blog post.

Jewels - My girl - as always, thanks for the love. And you are so right: there is nothing more beautiful about traveling and discovering new places with a lover. This is actually something that I've thought about a lot recently. I LOVE my single life and my adventures. But I have to say that most of my greatest memories are ones I shared with someone else and most of them involve traveling with someone else. I am sure that you will experience that some day (make sure you do). And you are so right... being unhappy does not attract happiness. I'm working on that.

On My Soapbox - You are probably right. My delivery wasn't very smooth. ;)

Tilden Talks - That thinking thing. Gets me every time. Damn. :)

Jules - As always, thanks for your support! Bostonians are crazy about their sports. That is for sure. You would think that the world is possibly ending tomorrow because the Red Sox are 2-9. It's ALL people are talking about. Don't get me wrong. I do like sports and I'm very amused with the Red Sox obsession and even am enjoying contributing to the conversation when I can. However, there is more that defines me and I want someone who has more than defines them.

Sarah B - I LOVED your comment. And I know that you understand. Thank you so much for these awesome words of wisdom - what a great analogy:

 Feeling uncomfortable in Boston is a good thing. 

Why? Because if it doesn't feel right on your skin, then it doesn't fit, which means, you shouldn't wear it.
You know that feeling when you find that dress? 

The one that hugs you in all the right places, the one that just slides on? 

The one that when you walk out the door, you *know* that men are dropping their jaws and tripping over themselves to stare at you?

That one. That's the feeling you should feel when you live somewhere too

Catherine - It is very wise advise to stop worrying about the things in my future and about the things I cannot change. Isn't there a saying something like: Grant me the power to change the things I can and accept the things I can't change? And speaking of change, as I already mentioned, I really liked what you had to say about it:

Maybe you'll meet someone who will want to change for you.

 Perhaps you'll meet someone you want to change for.

 Perhaps what you want will change - you never know. 

And maybe, just maybe, you'll meet the perfect person (within reason) that wants something very similar to you. 

So eloquently put. Love it.

Thanks again everyone! I'm finally feeling a bit better having gotten my B12 sorted out. I've also decided that I will STOP hibernating in my apartment watching Mad Men and The Kennedy's and I will get out and do more and have more interesting things to blog about!

A Breif Romantic Encounter in the English Countryside

This post was supposed to be about my weekend in the English countryside. It was supposed to provide a portrait of picturesque rural life. It was supposed to be about rolling hills and sheep. It was supposed to be about the quaint village and the quirky village people. It was supposed to be about the Cricket game and the afternoon tea and the after Cricket pints and party. It was supposed to be about the Sunday walk through the hills to the charming local pub where we had a Sunday roast in the garden. It was supposed to be about the fresh countryside air and the cool autumn weather.

All weekend I planned this post. I took pictures to include. I talked to the villagers and found out about their lives. I mentally noted interesting observations in anticipation of telling you all about it. And as I sit here at my computer ready to begin, I realize that post I was planning all weekend, is not the post I'm going to write.

And while the lovely British countryside will certainly serve as a romantic backdrop, I apologize that this post will not be about the rolling hills, the sheep, the Cricket, the pub, the villagers, the fresh air, nor will it be about the crisp autumn weather.

This post will be about a boy.

This weekend I feel in love and then lost in just 24 hours. 

But let me rewind and start at the beginning with Friday evening when M (of my favorite couple M and T) showed up at my apartment with French guy CC - a friend from our China days. Then Sexy Single friend A and her friend showed up and we did what we usually do at my apartment - have some pre party drinks, listen to music and get in the mood to go out!

CC was only in town for the weekend, so we were determined to show him the best England had to offer. The plan was to head out on the town  Friday night and then get up early on Saturday and head out to T's family village 2 hours outside of London where they were having the annual Cricket Game (I had attended last year and it was so much fun, I had begged to be invited back). So, on Friday night we headed to Kensington Roof Gardens and got our groove on, stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning.

Saturday morning came way too early and in a cruel manner with a relentless pounding headache and a nauseous stomach and an instant regret for that damn shot of tequila I had done (say nothing of the vodka, gin, wine - although my bets are still on the tequila).

Not even a Bloody Mary and a full English breakfast helped to improve my condition. In fact, as I struggled to keep the meal down, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that a big meal and a drink had only made it worse (whoever says hair of the dog is the best way to kill a hangover, is completely out of their mind).

Despite sleeping most of the way on the train to the countryside, I was still  not well upon arrival in the charming little rural village. The taxi ride from the train station almost did me in (rolling hills and winding roads are not so quite so charming when you're hungover). Luckily however, we did make it to T's quaint village cottage with our stomachs intact.

So, we are sitting and watching the Cricket game and I'm still concentrating on not throwing up, when slowly through the thick fog of my hangover, I become aware that there is a a rather attractive guy on the Cricket field. I ask M who he is and she informs me that he is a childhood friend of T's and unfortunately, he is taken (although sans girlfriend for the weekend). Well, that figures. I mentally cross him off my list of potential flirting partners for the weekend.

The boys come in from the Cricket field to take their turn at bat and I'm introduced to the cute boy. He is even cuter up close - not beautifully aloof in the Beautiful Swede way, but roguishly handsome in a rugged, disheveled, manly way. "I didn't think he would be your type," M would say later.

But up close, it was perhaps less the way he looked, and more the way he looked at me that commanded my attention... He gave me "the look." You know that one where he looks you up and down slowly starting at your shoes, noting the shape of your legs in your fall boots, taking in your blue autumn dress, momentarily lingering on your breasts and then looking right in your eyes as if he can see all the way through to your soul. And from that first "look" I went weak in the knees and I have to admit that I was a bit smitten. Reluctantly smitten. But yes, smitten.

And although I was still very aware that he was "unavailable," I concluded that there is nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting (especially if initiated by him), right? And I promise that I was only joking when discussing sleeping arrangements with M that I would offer to solve the crowded house sleeping arrangement problem by sleeping with him.

And I swear that I did not seek out this boy nor did I intentionally try to turn on the charm (believe me, I can be quite charming when I want to be) but it just so happened that after the Cricket game ended, we ended up standing at the Cricket Club bar together where he convinced me to drink a pint of lager (much to the loud protestations of my stomach and still pounding head) and then proceeded to engage me in a conversation that left me not only smitten, but absolutely fascinated.

You see, he is a former journalist turned (as yet unpublished) writer who is working on his first book. Therefore, I will now refer to him appropriately as "The Writer." And if his looks had been the interesting factor before, I quickly realized that his personality was even more attractive. As a person who is (obviously) interested in writing and dreams of writing a book some day, I of course had lots of questions for him about the book writing process. He patiently answered my questions and gave me some interesting insight into a writer's world.

And we talked a lot about reading (another passion of mine) and it was quickly obvious we had read many of the same books. To my delight, he even begrudgingly admitted to having read (for professional reasons of course) and kind of liked the entire Twilight series, despite not being able to relate to all the teenage girl angst and being slightly disappointed on Stephanie Myer's failure to "understand the male psych."

And the more he talked, the more interesting I found The Writer. And slowly, it began to dawn on me that chemistry aside, this guy was kind of sort of my "dream guy." He was witty, intelligent, interesting and full of life. Well traveled, well educated, athletic, and well rounded. The first guy I have met in a long time who I feel is multi-dimensional enough to match me on many levels.

Apparently our connection was noticed by others around because just minutes into our initial conversation, one of the old drunk villagers interrupted us by asking "Are you two married?" And The Writer looked into my eyes and therefore into my soul, and we both just laughed.

And his eyes - hazel specked with brown, and full of warmth and life... I had trouble looking into them because those eyes sucked me in and made it so hard to look away that the second I did I found myself longing to look back again.

But, if I wasn't smitten enough already, as the night went on and more pints were drunk, he somehow started singing to me in a wonderful singing voice Susanne and Famous Blue Raincoat - my two most favorite Leonard Cohen songs - and it was at that point that I just fell. Head over heels. Hard.

We continued to talk the entire night. I kept trying to pull myself away from him, but found myself completely unable. When he was not standing with me, I found myself searching for him and I found that he was more often than not looking at me as well. But I still considered him "off limits" and honestly there was no overt flirting going on, we did not touch each other and we did not stand too close to eachother or do anything else that would be considered inappropriate, although I can't deny the fact that I was by this point doing some serious "wishful thinking."

Ok please stop reading now if you are:*

a. My parents (although, mom we kind of already discussed this - I just left out the details - you don't really need to read them - dad, neither do you)

b. My colleagues

c. T (of M and T)

d. A person of strong morals who is going to judge me

e. A mean anonymous commenter

 So, the evening progressed and we finally had enough of drinking and dancing and we turned off the lights and music at the Cricket Club and headed back to the house to get some much needed rest.

And I'm not sure if it was the planets aligning or some cruel trick of fate, but suddenly it became clear that the only place for me to sleep (without doing some serious waking up and rearranging of people) was in the spare bed in the room that he was in. (I immediately regretted saying what I had said previously about the sleeping arrangements).

So, we both pretended that this was cool. And I was seriously questioning how cool it really was - engaged in an internal battle of feeling that maybe I should sleep on the floor somehwere else and really really wanting  to sleep in the room with him - to see where this night long charade would take us (because at this point, I really had no idea). But one thing was clear... it was all too easy. We had the perfect excuse to do what we wanted and it was up to us to choose the final outcome. And The Writer seemed ok with the proposed sleeping arrangement... so, we both went with it, although I'm sure his internal battle was even more intense than my own.

So everyone got into their pajamas and we all said goodnight and then The Writer and I closed the door to "our bedroom." And suddenly it was like the world started to spin and we just looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. The sexual tension was on intensity overload, my heart was in my throat, I was weak in the knees, and I swear that the room was on fire. And as much as I told myself that I should walk over to my bed and just lay down and go to sleep, my legs refused to listen and with a mind of their own, they began to move in the other direction - toward him just as he was moving toward me. We met in the middle and he touched my arm and I swear that it there were not only sparks, it was a freaking electrical storm.

Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. And his response was the slowest most amazing kiss.

"You can't deny chemistry," he said and his fingers were like flames moving over my body.

Later though as the awkwardness set in, he did admit to feeling guilty (which was both weird and relieving all at once. Weird because well... do I need to go there? And relieving because if he didn't feel guilty, well it probably means he does this all the time. And no, I didn't get the feeling that he does). I mumbled something about what's done is done and regret is a pointless emotion. "You're right. I just need to put it in parenthesis," The Writer said.

The next morning came too quickly and when the rest of the house began stirring, we decided to get up and head our separate ways. The day was full of trivial conversation and longing glances exchanged across the room. I was oversensitive and over aware of his presence at all times. And when he was standing close to me, all I could think about was wanting to reach out and touch him and overwhelmed by the unfairness of the fact that it would be totally inappropriate to do so.

The closest we came to an intimate moment was on the way to the pub for Sunday brunch when we were both walking dogs on leashes and the leashes managed to wrap around each other in such a way that we were pulled together and forced into an awkward moment of closeness as we tried to untangle ourselves and the dogs. "This is how they met in The Lady and the Tramp," The Writer said...

And then it was time to say goodbye and head back to London in separate cars. We both climbed the stairs to "our bedroom" and gathered up our belongings. And then once again, we stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I guess this is goodbye," he said. "Yes." I replied and then he took me in his arms and gave me one last lingering kiss full of sweet longing, regret and things that "could have been".

And in that moment before we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart, the bittersweet images of a life that almost was but would never be, played out in my mind - the cozy nights at home, the fun parties with friends, the trips around the world, the dancing in each other's arms, the beautiful rambunctious children that we would never have. And just as soon as the thoughts had entered my mind, they withdrew as quickly as his lips left mine as I guiltily remembered that this life is real and not a romantic English fairytale (or a chick lit novel), nor am I Elizabeth Bennet and he is surely not Mr. Darcy. We are just two people who shared a night who had no future outside this room in the English countryside.

And so, we left the room together as strangers. 

And finally, we endured a public parting - in front of other people and I swear they could all see the electricity sparking off our bodies as we touched and air kissed each other goodbye - one remorseful kiss on each cheek. And after saying goodbye to everyone else, when no one was looking, he blew me a kiss and walked off to his car, looking backward at me the whole way. And I felt an incredible sadness wash over me as I knew that I had just met an amazing guy who was absolutely not mine for the taking. An amazing guy who probably has an amazing girlfriend. An amazing guy, who I was never going to see again.

And I have to admit that I felt sad. It's now two days later and I still feel sad. And I've thought about him more than I want to admit. I'm struggling to deal with myself on this one. I've gotten used to not caring, not feeling. I've gotten used to meeting lots of shallow beautiful men who are more suited to one or two dates, to one kiss, to one night - they essentially mean nothing to me and leave no more imprint on me than the empty words posted about them in this blog. I've gotten used to meeting men with many good qualities but always in the beginning - usually in the very first encounter - I sense a strong "but" that I know can't be overcome, that I know makes that guy not right for me in the long run (if I'm honest with myself, even the Beautiful Swede was ruled out in the beginning by the "but" and deemed not suitable for long term potential).

But for the first time in a long time, I felt in The Writer a lingering potential, a beautiful possibility that I had not felt in a very long time (maybe ever).

But he is taken and I'm leaving London in less than 2 weeks, so this is the end of the story. The end of the British countryside romance. It began before it started. I loved and lost in just 24 hours (although it could certainly be said I never "had" in the first place).**

So, that's it. It's over (I keep having to tell myself this). It was awesome and bittersweet and confusing all at once. And now I'm left feeling empty and alone with a wonderful yet guilty memory and  the unrealistic romantic fantasies of a whirlwind romance that will never take place and the unmistakable longing that I will hear from him again.***

*And if you do continue reading, do so at your own risk and try not to judge me, or him and know that this post was one that I really struggled to write.

**I'm not that girl who "falls in 'love'" easily. Or at all. Or ever. In fact, I'm that girl who is not even sure she believes in love. I'm that girl who guys think are cold. And while I'm obviously exaggerating here when I say "love," I did fall for this guy. Hard. More than I ever fall for guys. And that kills me.

***We didn't exchange any contact details.

The Sexy Cop

So, there is this guy on Match.com that I had been writing back and forth with for awhile. He seemed to check the boxes: tall, dark, good-looking, "over-educated" (whatever that means), and to top it all off - he is a cop! And well let's face it, that's kind of hot! Right? We had been talking about meeting up for some time, but as usual I kept being a bit reluctant.

The thing is, as I have expressed before, I'm shy! I get super nervous to go out on dates. So, it takes a lot for me to work up to going out with someone. I don't know how some people can do it. It must be more natural or less stressful for them. I have friends who go on multiple dates per week with Internet matches. I can hardly manage multiple dates in a month.

BTW. If you want to meet a girl who totally knows how to rock a dating schedule - check out Date Me DC's fabulous blog. Her blog is what mine aspired to be before I realized that I neither had the time nor the energy and was too inclined to an overload of pre-date stress to date that much. But she does truly inspire me (and she writes a hell of a blog - so check her out)!

Unfortunately to add to my dating stress, going on a date inevitably involves taking the dreaded subway (or the Tube as they call it here). I think I honestly have a mild disorder. I'm actually sadly serious here. My friends might tell you that I don't take the subway because I think I'm too posh, but actually, it unfortunately goes much deeper than that.

I have never met anyone who dreads the subway more than me. The big factor is that I need space and I need control over my space. I can't stand being enclosed in small  areas with lots of pushing strangers (although oddly nightclubs and bars even when crowded are usually ok - Thank God). I do not like strange people touching me - even by accident. So, being way deep underground on the hot crowded subway with massive amounts of people packed into small fast moving cars with no escape from people rubbing up against me, well this folks is a nightmare for me. I actually have to count in my head the whole time I'm on the subway and mentally calm myself down.*

But really the fastest (and cheapest) way to Central London is to take the Tube and also I admit it does seem kind of snobby and overly posh to tell a guy you are meeting for the first time that you are arriving by taxi to meet him at the subway stop.

So, for this sexy cop, I braved the subway. Luckily it was not rush hour (like the last time I took the Tube and had a small panic attack and vowed to never take it again). So, it wasn't too crowded. I decided to stand as it was just 6 stops. The other reason I do not like the subway is that it gives weird people an opportunity to talk to you. Of course there was a guy standing across from me staring at me who eventually came over and told me that I was "absolutely stunning." Umm... Thank you kind stranger for totally being totally creepy (I moved away from him fast) but also for kind of boosting my confidence before a date. I mean, what woman doesn't want to be told they are "stunning." A compliment is a compliment even if coming from a weird looking track-suit wearing guy of indistinguishable age on the subway.

The Sexy Cop is standing there waiting for me when I exit the Tube station. I always find it so awkward to greet these "blind" dates! And trying to make small talk as you are walking to the "date place" is always a bit painful. To make matters worse, I'm wearing super high heels and we are walking on cobble stones and I'm teetering around and not doing a great job at keeping up the small talk because I'm trying not to fall on my ass!
We eventually make it to a wine bar. As we enter he asks me "You do drink, right?" And he looks relieved when I say "yes." But inside my head I'm actually screaming. "Yes please! Give me a drink now!! I just took the subway and walked over cobblestones in high heels. And I'm nervous to meet you! Yes, I want a damn drink."

Luckily, the drinks come quickly and we settle into a table and being the "first date conversation." But unlike with my last Match date, this one seems to go pretty smoothly. There is no awkwardness or hesitation. He kept up his end of the conversation extremely well. I was really interested to hear about the life of a British Police Officer.

But get this. This guy is no ordinary Cop. His self proclaimed "over education" that he mentioned on his profile... well how about a full on PhD IN ASTROPHYSICS no less! But he said that Academia bored him and working for NASA just didn't really get him going. So, he decided to trade it all in for the life of a London Police Officer.

And now he chases gang members in the bad "hoods" of London. Literally - on foot. He described endless foot chases to me. Do you know that in London, the cops don't even have guns? So, he basically chases gangsters with his baton. Crazy. But he seemed to love his job and it made for interesting conversation.

Anyway, we stayed for three drinks (I was a bit tipsy toward the end of the night) and we there were no awkward pauses or hesitations. All in all, it was a good to great date! Although, I'm not sure we really had any chemistry. And I definitely don't think we have a future. - his face kind of fell when I told him I was not staying in London much longer and he sent me a text message later that basically said: "Was nice to meet you. Good luck with your move." So, it doesn't seem like a second date is in the plans. But I was glad that I went on this date.

*You will be happy to know that I try not to let my subway phobia too drastically affect my life. I just need to live in walking distance of my work (been fine for the past 6 years) or driving distance as you do in the US. I will also tell you that I have been on some of the most crowded subways in the world including Moscow and Shanghai where there is literally someone whose job it is to "push" people in and pack them into the subway... So, I'm not totally dysfunctional. It's just better for me and everyone around me that I try to limit my subway use. And let's face it, I can afford the occasional taxi. So, it's so not a big deal.

Summer in London

It's official! Summer has finally come to London. It's amazing that in just one weekend people went from being pale and white and covered from head to toe in winter clothing to being tan and showing as much skin as possible. I LOVE summer! It makes me a nicer and happier person.

I for one am VERY happy to break out my summer wardrobe. My summer wardrobe is just SO much better than my winter one. I'm a big fan of summer dresses and accidently bought 3 new ones this weekend. But hey - I have 5 weddings this summer... I am in serious need of some new dresses even if I financially should not be spending the money.

The bad thing about summer in London seems to be SPIDERS! I am not a fan of creepy crawly things. Cocroaches and spiders are #1 and #2 on my list of things that totally freak me out. So far, I have found and killed 2 spiders in the past week. And I can't stop thinking about all the unseen and unknown spiders that are probably lurking around. I seroiusly need a boyfriend for this. Every time I see a bug, I want to scream for the closest man around - usually in the form of a father or a boyfriend. But since my father lives on another continent and has spent at least 18 years killing bugs for me... I think it's time for a boyfriend to take over these duties.

But seriously, killing bugs is totally not a thing a girl should do. I feel the same about changing light bulbs, using screwdrivers, setting up computers or internet connections, figuring out why the television in my apartment doesn't work, carrying heavy things, hanging pictures, using a hammer, figuring out anything technical, making decisions about electronics, using a power drill, reaching things in high places or basically contributing to any handiness around the house... Alas, I am a single girl. So, I unfortunately have to suck it up and do those things from time to time. In the past week in addition to killing 2 spiders, I also used a screwdriver and finally after weeks of trying managed to get my phone to work again. I'm hoping that a man will rescue me soon from having to do these types of activities. Boyfriend oh boyfriend, where are you? Can't I at least find a stand in man to kill the spiders and fix things in my apartment for me in London this summer? Even a temporary boyfriend should do the trick...

In other news, I had an enjoyable weekend. On Friday night I went to Kensington Roof Gardens, which was nice but due to another stressful week at work, I was too tired to really enjoy it. But I did have an experience that I feel is worth mentionoing: I GOT CARDED going into the club! The funny thing as that at lunch that day I was speaking to some colleauges of a bit of a younger generation then me and they were asking me how old I was - I told them that a true lady doesn't reveal her age... Anyway, they told me I looked young (awww... how sweet of them). As all of us are at least well over the drinking age we started talking about if we ever get carded in London (while this is common in America if you look under 35, it's not so common in the rest of the world). When I told them that I had been carded twice at Waitrose (the supermarket here) however, they did look a bit doubtful! So, that night at the club I couldn't believe it when the bouncer asked me for my ID. My friend with me started freaking out since she didn't have hers with her. So, I asked him "Do you need everyone's ID?" And GUESS WHAT he said? "Nope. Just yours!" That means he actually felt that he needed to check if I was over 20 years old!!! Let me say that one more time:

He thought that I was possibly YOUNGER than 20 years old!

Ok... then he did look at my ID, laugh and tell me I was old. But who who cares! It made my night. Besides, I am old. At least a whole decade plus older than 20!

Other than that, I layed in the park on both Saturday and Sunday - and I have a sunburn to show for it. I read a great book Water For Elephants - if you haven't read it already, then I suggest you do! And I went running. All and all, a nice weekend. I should have done some productive things, and I should have done some work. But sometimes, I need a break too! This week I'm off to Madrid for work on Thursday and Friday and will stay over the weekend. Should be fun! I'm looking forward to it. Stay tuned for a Madrid adventure post.

And if anyone knows of a good man who is handy around the house, technically enabled and doesn't mind killing a spider or two while I cower in the corner... well, send him around!

Have a great week!

An Email from Mom

So, my Mother sends me an email today... and I can't help but share it.

The subject is: A Beautiful Parable

My Mother then writes...
This made me think of you and our conversation yesterday. You can’t control everything the way you want to. You just have to let it flow and it will happen exactly the way it is supposed to.


Love Mom

As many emails do these days, this one had an attachment with an inspirational story meant to change your life. Let me copy paste the story below. Read it carefully and think about the message.

A woman came out of her house and saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them. She said, "I don't think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat."


"Is the man of the house home?" they asked.
"No," she replied. "He's out."
"Then we cannot come in" they replied.


In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.
"Got tell them I am home and invite them in!"


The woman went out and invited the men in.
"We do not go into a House together" they replied.
"Why is that?" she asked.
One of the old men explained: "His name is Wealth he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, "He is Success, and I am Love." Then he added, "Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home."


The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. "How nice!" he said. "Since that is the case let us invite in Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!"
His wife disagreed. "My dear, why don't we invite Success?" Their daughter-in-law was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: "Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!"


"Let us heed our daughter-in-law's advice," said the husband to his wife. "Go out and invite Love to be our guest."
The woman went out and asked the 3 old men "Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest."


Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other 2 men also got up and followed him. Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success"I only invited Love. Why are you coming in?"


The old men replied together. "If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two would have stayed out, but since you invited Love, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!"

And then the foot note said: Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's learning how to dance in the rain! We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust our sails. (I do kind of like the footnote by the way)

So? What is the moral of this story folks? What was your impression? Other than the predictable ending, did anything else strongly jump out at you?

Well, I wrote my mother back to tell her:

"Thank you Mom for reminding me that first I need a man of the house in order to invite Love, Success and Wealth into my life!"

Seriously, the woman had to wait until her husband came home before they would let her invite them in! I wondered if my Mother was trying to subtly tell me something...

The previous night my Mother and I had our usual Sunday night conversation where I complain about being overworked and underpaid and unsure of what direction I want my life to go in and the fact that I'm no longer sure I'm prioritizing the right things. Next I talk about different changes I'm contemplating while expressing frustration about how difficult it is to figure out what the next step is (thus my Mother's preceding comment to the attachment) to actually make positive changes happen. This usually and inevitably leads to a general moaning about the fact that I am absolutely going to be single forever if I continue to relentlessly pursue my career and sacrifice any real semblance of personal life for work and work-related travel (I used to think that I could have it all, that it all would just come my way - but I'm starting to realize, it might not be that simple. Maybe to create change, you have to first make a change). And by the way, that this scares the bejeezus out of me since I'm not getting any younger and doing the same activities is producing not only the same results (i.e. work is continuing to dominate me while not much else in my life seems to be progressing forward), my Mother and I continue to have the same Sunday night conversation.

So, thank you Mom for finally pointing out what I have been doing wrong! It is all so clear to me now! All this time I've been prioritizing my career when I should have been prioritizing finding a man! As the story implies... if I have a man at home... and then I invite Love in then Wealth and Success will follow. Damn! I had it all backwards! All this time I thought it would be Success first then wealth then Love then a Man of the house. I'm very grateful to this little beautiful parable for helping me to get my priorities straight. Now... I'm off to find a man and solve all my problems!

If only it were that easy...

P.S As I have noted before, my Mother has always been my strong feminist role model, I'm sure her intentions were good. Love you Mom!

A Good First Date Does Not A Good Second Date Make

I heart musicians. Or at least I have a very soft spot for musicians (in fact sometimes I will even make exceptions for musicians such as even if they are not that tall or that hot, I might still date them - or at least make out with them). I think it has to do with my father and brother both being really into music. It feels like something I grew up with. Or maybe it's because I'm not musical and arty and therefore I admire those qualities in others... Either way, if a guy plays music, he is that much more sexy in my book.

Anyway, I met this guy on Match, let's call him The Musician. He is a singer songwriter in London and also does lots of cover gigs and teaches performance. Sounds cool, right? We wrote back and forth for weeks and he seemed pretty interesting so we decided to meet up.

Our first date went well enough... We met for drinks and had good conversation. He was good looking (no exceptions necessary - phew). Tall with dark hair and blue eyes. I was looking forward to meeting him again.

The second date seemed doomed from the start. As usual I was running late (and he was early) but I was only 5 mins late and I had texted him to tell him so. Not really a big deal. Anyway, I get to the restaurant and he had texted me that he would be upstairs in the bar. So, I go upstairs. He's not there. So, I call him. He doesn't answer. I walk back downstairs starting to feel a little bit silly and I look around all confused and there he is watching me! Awkward! Nevermind the fact that I totally blew my entrance where I was going to strut in all sexy hair blowing everywhere... Huh. Anyway, I tried not to think too much into it at the time - I mean why would someone do that? But after the rest of the night played out and his mean-spirited personality was revealed, I can't help but think he actually watched me walk up the stairs looking for him and then ignored my call... just to see my reaction and make me feel uncomfortable. Creepy!

So, after that exciting entrances he then launches into me about the fact that I live in Chelsea (one of London's most posh neighborhoods) as this had been a topic we covered on the first date, I felt annoyed it had come up again. Yes, I live in Chelsea. My workplace is in Chelsea. It's a nice place and it makes sense for me to live in Chelsea. Who wouldn't want to live here? It's fabulous. Yes, I realize that somewhere out there is the rest of big bad London with homeless people, crime, bad neighborhoods, long underground commutes, small apartments and horrible flatmates. But hey, I'm lucky and I work hard to pay my exorbitant rent so I can live alone in nice apartment in a nice area without a commute involving any kinds of public transportation (I have a phobia). I enjoy the area I live in. And you could call me a snob, but I do realize I have a very charmed life and am very thankful for it. But have I mentioned I also work VERY HARD for it! He is not the first man I have dated who couldn't get over the Chelsea thing. I just don't get it. I guess they are intimidated and insecure. But over the area I live in? Get over it! Or at least don't bring it up every 5 minutes! But I digress...

So, after we go over the reasons that I live in Chelsea again, The Musician then proceeds with an even more fun topic as he tells me he felt my message from the day before was "too forward." I was taken aback since I do not recall sending any outrageous messages (being the good girl that I am, I usually leave this kind of behaviour to the third or fourth date at least). So, I did what any normal girl would do, I checked my phone.

I had texted him around 9 the night before to say "Hey you. Are we still on for tomorrow night?" That. Was. It. The reason I texted him at all was because I hadn't heard from him - he was supposed to text me during the day to tell me if he was free to meet the next night or not. At 9 pm when I hadn't heard from him, I figured I would send him a text so that I would still have time to make other plans if he bailed. Once I pointed this out to him, he says "oh, must have been your other messages. Time to put the phone away now. It's rude to check your phone on a date." Whoa...

Feeling a bit awkward, I began to chatter away about silly stuff - my job, my upcoming travels, weddings that summer I was looking forward to. So, he cuts through this and sneers at me (seriously - the best way to describe it was a sneer) "Do you really think that even have time for a boyfriend?" Umm... point taken and he might be right, but jeez it's our second date and at this point boy is very far away from being considered for the boyfriend job. And his bitterness (dare I say jealousness - yes I realize I invented a word here but it really should be in the Dictionary) about my busy life is so not the way to my heart!

He then tried a smooth move to win me over by telling me that he thought I was "really arrogant." This was brought on by the fact that I made some silly - and I had thought flirty - comments such as: "of course, I was popular in high school," and "you might be a singer, but I'm sure I could give you a run for your money at karaoke." Both of these statements were said in a sarcastic and exaggerated tone. And yes, ok I was popular in high school and yes, I kinda do rock at karaoke but I'm saying these things to be flirty and funny, not to be arrogant! I mean singing is his profession, of course I'm nowhere near as good as him! I was just trying to flirt with him a little bit and show that I'm a really confident and fun girl. Basides Buddy, if I am so arrogant, why are you even on a second date with me? Seriously. There is the door.

I couldn't wait to get away from him but he seemed to be drinking his wine as slowly as possible. I honestly thought he was doing it on purpose, as if he could sense my discomfort and was enjoying it and trying to drag it out for as long as possible. And I was not sure I really wanted to stand up and make a dramatic exit so I patiently waited until I could escape.

While waiting for him to finish his drink, I did have a long conversation with myself (in my head) about what justified storming out of a date and causing a scene, and if this was possibly one of the worst dates ever, and wondering if these kind of things happened to other people. But then I reminded myself that I'm totally awesome and it's not my fault this guy is such an insecure jerk. Well at least he was right on with the arrogance accusation!

And after all that, he still had the nerve to ask me if he could come home with me! I politely told him that it was probably not going to work out between the two of us. Then I went home and watched Sex and the City reruns to make myself feel better.

For all you men out there, the way to a woman's heart is definitely not by insulting her and making her feel bad about herself! Especially on a second date!