Breaking News on Testosterone

CNN today reports that researchers claim that too much testosterone kills brain cells.

...

Well... duh ;)

Anyone ever see a guy jump off a club balcony into the waiting arms of the pit with flaming toilet paper in his ass? Right there, you say to yourself, I'm sensing something might be off here. We don't even have to look at more extreme behavior like not marrying the best thing that ever happened to you because you need to focus on your career, you little bas... um... I digress.

Had these researchers never seen men in their natural habitat before? Not even strip clubs, I mean the tool aisle at Sears, or trapped in their living rooms trying to have a conversation about "relationships".

How much did this study cost? Because I could have told them men surging with testosterone are almost always going to make the absolute wrong choice for free.

I'm just saying...

Kate
katedating@yahoo.com

My iPod Led Me Astray

My iPod led me astray. From here on in, this will be known as the iPod defense. Can you perform an exorcism on an electronic music device? I know that there are people who cleanse homes… hmmmm yellow pages under…. Yeah, no.

I should start by telling you that I am obsessed with my iPod. I’m almost never without it. I resisted for years, and then went wild—got a 60GB video iPod that I adore. Any time Chloe or Veronica come into my office, I’ve got it going. Veronica pointed out that I might be trying to drown out the sound of my own despair over work, but I think I just dig having a soundtrack to my life… ok, she could be a little right.

Anyway, the day started promisingly enough. I clicked on “shuffle” and got down to business (email at 5am, no less). First thing that comes on is “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) by Abba. It’s groovy and retro and had me humming along. Who can’t appreciate the sentiment? Although with my schedule and lifestyle, I’d need to change that to “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! A man between the hours of 3pm and 6pm, while I’m still awake and it won’t interfere with any of my television shows”. But you’ve got the idea.

Then it moves on to another classic disco-y tune (who knew I had that many on here), "It’s Raining Men", by the Weather Girls. At this point, I’ve finally awakened my neighbors with my stirring rendition of “God Bless Mother Nature, She’s a Single Woman, Too”. I’ll admit it, I’m in a good mood. Sun isn’t up yet, but I have no wildly distressing emails, and it is a Friday. Plus, I’m having visions of fine young men desperately hoping that I’d pick them. Hell, yeah!

And then, the iPod decides to hit me with a reality check. For no reason at all, it shuffles to “I’ll be Okay” by Amanda Marshall. Slower, but that’s not it. It’s the line “I’ll always have the memories, she’ll always have you”. Right about this time, the sun should have been coming up. Anyone else notice that the sun never actually came out in LA today? Yep. Insidious, stealthy iPod attack.

I try to shake it off. I’m bobbing and weaving emotions, as I start to look for something to wear to work that doesn’t make me feel fat—which, as you all know, in this mood means I’m not really going to find it. I hit next in hopes of something that won’t put me in a mood that continues to blanket LA. So, I rebound into “Absolutely Nothing’s Changed” (aka I’m bruised, but I aint broken by Tina Turner). Better—at least I ‘m not moping. Now, I’m actually a little ticked off. And I realize that it has very little to do with the most recent ex and so much to do with work and just general drama in life.

The iPod decides (yes, it absolutely was deliberate) to just make me more ticked off. It’s clearly feeding off of me, and I’m just cycling back. Just as I’m about to march out the door, I get hit with “You Hurt Me, and I Hate You” by Eurythmics. I’m surprised there weren’t storm clouds over me as I was stalking to my car. At this point, getting me out of this mood was going to be harder than breaking into that Soviet architectural union back in ’90… um.. you know, metaphorically, speaking.

My iPod cycled me from “Gimme, a man” to “people suck” just because it could. My adoration has made it cocky and now it is toying with me. Wow… I think my iPod might be male. ;)

Sister Rain controls the weather in the east, and my powers are clear (It's snowing in Colorado). She and I just wondered what would happen to the middle of the country if we were both in a bad mood. Now, I understand that there was severe weather in the middle of the country. I suggest you check her iPod.

I’m just saying...

Her iPod may have led her astray. ;)

Kate
katedating@yahoo.com

Another Power

People of Los Angeles-- take cover. I control the weather and some forms of electricity. I just thought you should know.

I sense skepticism.

June gloom started last year in January. You think that was weather patterns? Please. My boss resigned in January. My mood was bleak, therefore, the weather was bleak. Why else would a city known for 365 of sun be blanketed in gray every morning?

You know that blackout a couple of months ago? Me. That morning I received the engagement announcement from my ex. For some reason, I felt the need to take it out on the city around me. Apparently the raw build up of emotion took out the power grid all the way into Santa Monica-- for 12 hours. Sorry about that. Sure, it was one of the hottest days of the year, and the power levels were critical-- but no, it was me.

Still not convinced? Same night, electrical storm over the airport.

Another slight complication-- the power is contagious. At the very moment of the electrical storm, my innocent (yet slightly pervy) friend, Chloe, was driving her ex to the airport (from here on known as Jacob, the Haitian boy, although his name is neither Jacob, nor is he Haitian-- just go with it). She's not a confrontational sort, but she swears she was unknowingly feeding off of me.

What can I say-- she hit one for the team... over and over...

Chloe had the overwhelming urge to let Jacob know about every (kick) thing (kick) he'd ever (kick) done (kick) that was unacceptable (kick, kick) while they were dating (wham). And they've been apart for a while. And I would apologize to Jacob for the attack, but, eh... ;)

I think we can all be grateful that I don't live in the tropics where hurricanes are the order of the day.

People, please heed this warning. I'm becoming increasingly frustrated at work. Be prepared. Buy parkas and rain gear now.

Kate
(katedating@yahoo.com)

Nothing

I just ran across this quote, and it made me laugh. It had to be posted.

"The trouble with some women is they get all excited about nothing -- and then they marry him." -- Cher

tee hee

Kate
katedating@yahoo.com

Invisibility

I've decided that I need to pitch myself as a character for that new show "Heroes". No-- not for my amazing ability to make men disappear (Chloe, I heard that ). Instead, I will pitch myself as "Blend Girl"-- as in disappear into the background girl, practical invisibility.

Think I'm kidding? I have had people in elevators lean up against me thinking I was part of the wall. I've been in a check-out line at a deli back in NYC, and I had a girl flip her hair over MY shoulder.

It isn't a recent phenomenon-- my ex saw it happen. I was waiting for him at Home Depot and some woman pulled her cart up and actually backed up two inches in front of me to wait for someone.

Could it be the earthtones I wear? I'm very short, perhaps I am mistaken for a shrub or chair? I always thought that my being non-threatening was a positive attribute, but perhaps I've now taken that to an extreme. Remind me to wear a bright color if I plan on approaching a guy-- wouldn't want him to think that he's been stood up even after I've sat down at the table. ;)

If only I could use this power for good (and by good, I mean debauchery)... something involving George Clooney and naked time. MWHAA HAA HAAA

But in the meantime, writers of "Heroes"-- call me!

Kate...right here... no here... warmer... warmer....

Taylor Revisited

You're right. I should have done something when I passed by grande/laptop guy. In fact, as I was passing him, I thought to myself "a normal person would know what to do". There are people who will start chatting with strangers easily. My ex was one of those people. My friend Veronica is also a chatter. Me? Not so much.

Given the scenario, what would you have said? I came up with the riveting "Hi!" while smiling option. And there is also the cooler, hipper "hey" while looking bored. Of course, neither were used since I was more than a block away before I thought of anything at all. Yep-- they don't call me the great communicator for nothing.

So what are your suggestions? Anna had the suggestion of cards with my name and number coupled with the casual drop. I like it because it gets the info out there without obligation. It also harkens back to the days of a gentleman retrieving an "accidentally" discarded handkerchief. The only tricky part would be if someone other than the intended would-be-gentleman-caller picked up the card. But hey-- run and hide is a technique I'm good at!

Send your words of wisdom to katedating@yahoo.com

Social Skills

In preparation for the leap, or timid one toe approach, into dating, I’ve started reading a lot of material about “what men want”. Much to my consternation, it appears that men want women who have social skills. It was #3 or #4 on their list in a recent article I read.

The one guy interviewed said that staying home once in a while was fine, but one of the benefits of having a relationship is having someone at your side at events, functions and parties. I initially scoffed because to me that translates into “would really like a designated driver with me at all times so I can get wasted and not worry about it”. But maybe that’s just the cynic in me ;p

I sense trouble here.

I have never been considered a party girl. Hanging out with a couple of friends is about as wild as I get, and even that takes some convincing at times. I think a key problem is that I don’t really drink and being around drunk people tends to make me nervous. You see… they tend to pick me up. I don’t mean that they try to come on to me. I mean they literally try to pick me up. I’m very short, and for some reason drunk people tend to want to physically hoist me somewhere. You're thinking, "so don't go to frat parties". Sure, but how do you explain a barbecue with work colleagues? Very odd, but I do have witnesses to the phenomenon.

But beyond the wariness at being tossed over someone’s shoulder, I tend to be the observer at social events rather than the participant. And under “all work, no play” there is actually a photo of me. Clearly, given that socialization seems to be a priority in the dating world, I’m going to have to take a deep breath and adapt.

For this, I will look to my friends for valuable lessons in all areas—dating, girls night out, happy hour, even vacationing. Vacationing? Well, at least the packing part because these girls know how to pack. When I set out to make a packing list, it goes something like: clean underwear, jeans, t-shirts, allergy medication, eye drops, book, laptop (because I can’t actually remember the last vacation I took when I didn’t have a way to check in with the office), etc. My friends Chloe, Veronica and Grace got together to plan their packing list for a house-sitting stint in Vegas. It went something like this: vodka, olives, shaker, raspberry juice, inflatable pool float/raft and fix-a-flat. I can honestly say none of that would have ever occurred to me.

I have much to learn.

Unless, of course, that mocha grande guy is also a quiet tv watcher/book reader. In which case, I will lure him into the wonderful world of hermit-ville that I have come to call my own.

Kate, Dating in LA.. uh...eventually
katedating@yahoo.com

Taylor, the Latte Boy

I had no idea that “I'm going for coffee” was actually a euphemism for “I'm attending the fastest speed dating event on earth while wildly hopped up on caffeine.” But it does appear to be the case. Was this always true? I mean, back in the day when coffee meant black, or with milk, and cost a quarter, was it still a possible mating event?

You must admit, the drink orders alone sound like elaborate foreplay. I have a theory that the more convoluted the order, the more desirable you are. Why else would people go to so much trouble? While ordering a half caf, half decaf double latte extra foam probably wins you some appreciative looks (perhaps even a wink and a nod), will you actually get a phone number after ordering a half caf, half decaf venti nonfat extra hot latte with one shot of hazelnut and four shots of chocolate with extra foam? (I actually have no idea what that means, but I read a variation of that on Naked and Ashamed, and it sounded hot). Can't you practically hear the sighs? I used to think it was impatient people bothered by the intricate order, but in fact, those are sighs of desire. If you have the dexterity, try adding a hair flip and a giggle at the end—but stay clear of the swoon, or you might spill the drink you've just worked so hard to obtain.

On the other hand, you could risk becoming a social pariah if you order a small black coffee. Try it—the confusion mixed with disappointment resembles the look on a guy’s face the first time he encounters a wonder bra.

Does being a member of the Barista Guild automatically elevate you to playmate status for the caffeine obsessed? I was rethinking my current career anyway.

Doing some simple math, I came up with the following equation: single men drinking coffee + Starbucks/Coffee Bean on every corner = places Kate should visit. So, I combed my hair (yep, I go all out on the primping thing), and I decided to take a stroll. After all, according to my new theory, true love is literally just around the corner.

I did an initial oh-so-subtle “walk by” on my way to the shop to get the lay of the land (uh… so to speak). After picking up the requisite supplies (more Haagen-Dazs), I wandered back for a more thorough examination.

And there he was.

Tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Business clothes.

He had a grande and a laptop.

Our eyes met. I smiled. The soundtrack in my mind swelled.

And…


I kept walking. Didn't even slow down.

What?

Not right? I missed a step somewhere, didn't I? Shit. Looks like I'll be spending quite a bit of time at Starbucks in the future.

If only I liked coffee.

Kate, Dating in LA (katedating@yahoo.com)

“So many years my heart has waited
Who'd have thought that love could be so caffeinated!
Taylor, the latte boy.
I love him. I love him. I love him.”
Taylor, the Latte Boy by Marcy Heisler and Zina Goldrich.

Kate’s Patented Party Techniques

Since it is clear that I am on my way to being a social phenom, I thought I’d share some tips on how I “roll” (yeah, yeah).

(I don’t actually know what that means, but I hear it often on TV so…)

1) Immediately locate the bathroom upon entering any restaurant, club or bar. You’ll need a place to hide once the panic of having to be social sets in—and it will—be prepared.

2) Find the plants. You’ll need coverage—not just for hiding, but for disguising the whole “alone and awkward” thing. If there aren’t any plants for coverage (never go back to that place!) look for poles, beams or other obstructions. Important caveat to this rule—pay special attention to the poles you choose. If you accidentally end up near a stripper pole, people will actually start looking at you and chanting shockingly inappropriate things. Be warned. You know, unless you need some singles to tip the valet, then…

3) If you are forced to sit next to a guy who appears to be alone, or with his male bonding buddies, immediately turn your back—thus shutting down the possibilities of actually having to talk to someone. Double bonus points if you can add the hand covering the side of the face nearest them in the “you can’t see me” manner so popular with 2 year olds. Men like a challenge—so really make them work for it. Put both arms over your head and sing “la, la, la” just to make it more interesting.

4) If you are forced to assume the façade of someone actually enjoying herself (sheyah, that’s likely), I highly recommend desperately clutching the single glass of red wine all night. Plus, it leaves that delightful tinge to your tongue, teeth and lips. What’s not love about that? Very inviting!

5) Get out as quickly as possible and, for goodness sake, don’t make eye contact. That could get you stuck in conversation as you frantically edge toward the door.

6) Get home alone, lock the door and breathe huge sigh of relief to have successfully weathered another social situation. Whew!

I know—it’s a shocker that I’m still single. Do you have tips for navigating social situations? If so, mail them to me at katedating@yahoo.com.

Kate, Dating in LA

Kate Goes to a Party

I left the house to do something social...at night... involving strangers. I'll give you a moment to absorb how momentous this news is. That's right-- I put down the Haagen-Dazs (mmmm ice cream) and chose to go out... to a bar. Please feel free to send me tokens of your amazement-- preferably in US currency and involving large denominations.

The event was a birthday celebration for someone who I know a bit, although not well. It's something I could have easily gotten out of, but I thought "time to see what's out there".

Anyone have any guesses on how long it took me to figure out what to wear? bzzzzzzz whatever number you just came up with, add at least 2 hours to it. I'm completely ill-equipped for a social life. I have jeans, sweats and business clothing-- there is no in-between. So, I did what any other resourceful woman does living in LA-- I went online and checked out the club life photos of the stars. Wow... if I keep this up, I'm going to need a trainer. I don't show that much skin at the beach. Luckily, there are very few places in LA where jeans aren't allowed. Plus, I figured all the focus would be on the birthday girl.

In truth, it took me longer to figure out what to wear than it did for me to make an appearance, drink the birthday drink, and leave the revelers to it. But it's a start.

Maybe next time I'll even talk to one of those strangers ... NAH :)

Kate, (venturing out) Dating in LA

Multitasking

When I was in graduate school I knew many women who were not only going to school, but also getting married, having kids, and working it all out. It wasn’t easy for them, but they were doing it.

“Honeymoon during my exams? Sure, I’ll call my professors and rearrange them all. No problem!” (she says with a chipper, Martha Stewart smile on her face)

“You want to have a baby while I’m in my medical residency? Absolutely!! That’s what research years are for!”

“You need me take the kids tonight? Well, I was planning on sneaking across the border into occupied France, but a little early covert training will probably be good for them. And if we get trapped there, at least they’ll pick up the language easily since they are so young.”

Ok, slight exaggeration… it was Soviet Siberia, not France, but you get the idea.

Then I think back on the men. These were nice, educated, quality men. And they were equally ready to make sacrifices for … their… um… oh… wait… no

“You want me to think about going away for the weekend? But I have a thesis to write… over the next 6 years. I need to focus.”

“You want a birthday card? Why are you putting this pressure on me? You know I have a big conference call next month.”

Is it biology? Women are designed to be multitaskers—after all, they continue to function and be pregnant. Is it societal? A woman expects to take on the role of the great accommodator?

In an odd way it reminds me of the old song “Sex, I’m a” by Berlin. Brilliant piece of social commentary in many ways (which seemed so scandalous and shocking to me at the time). Think about the woman’s part in that song—She keeps rattling off different facets of who she is (has to be?) in the relationship: goddess, virgin, blue movie, mother, little girl, slave, one night stand, dream divine.

What does the guy say? What is his role? “I’m a man”. It’s all he says throughout the entire song. “I’m a man”.

Seriously? Woohooo. Thank goodness I’m leaving my house for that :)

Kate, who is in no way bitter, dating in LA

Update

I've just been handed a note (ok, email) from my friend, Chloe. Apparently, ordering a man off the internet is:

a) not considered dating

b) might not be construed as an earnest attempt at finding true love

c) is just the teensiest bit illegal

sure. fine. whatever.

Kate, Dating in LA

Shocking News Flash!

Shocking News Flash! I've just been informed that in order to start dating, I will have to leave my apartment. Has the world gone mad???? Haven't I suffered enough?

Were you people aware of this? How could you not email and warn me of this sort of thing? It's just proper etiquette, sort of along the lines of the emergency broadcast system-- I should be receiving notices from informed parties in the event of earthquake, famine, flood and any other force of nature that might propel me from my home.

Plus, if I leave, doesn't that mean that I might not be giving the pizza delivery men (eg Patrick Dempsey in Loverboy) a fair shot? That seems elitist and wrong. I'm all about the fairness.

Also, if I go out, how will I explain why I've still got a death grip on my tv remote? Men aren't all that perceptive when it comes to things like new shoes, but someone is going to notice my shiny silver universal. I'm sorry, did one of you actually just think "leave the remote at home". Sheyah... like that's going to happen.

Kate, Dating in LA

He's Getting Married

He's getting married.

Huh?

Marriage itself is not unusual-- I've heard talk. I know it happens. But he's getting married, and he is not marrying me. That can't be right. We dated for 10 years, and while we haven't been together for a number of years now-- a sneaky, dangerous part of my heart never believed that we wouldn't be together again... one day... someday...

Well, I guess we've shot that idea straight to hell.

I found out by email-- simultaneously awful not to be told in person and protected because he couldn't see me stomping around my tiny Hollywood apartment yelling"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!!" (Hey-- don't judge-- I didn't say it was logical). It's a long, glowing email because we've remained friends and friends share. Haven't responded yet-- there are no words-- at least not honest ones.

You know the real tragedy of it all? I'm going to have to date. In Los Angeles. I am not a supermodel or starlet. I am not under 25. Given these factors-- is it actually legal for me to date here? Surely there's a union fine when short, plain women from the east coast try to navigate these dating waters.

So, I guess this is it. I'm going to do this. My name is Kate, and I'm dating in LA.

Crap.