Sunday, April 26, 2009


Twitterpated—a quite odd behavior that overcomes humans as they become completely enamored with another human being. Victims of the Twitterpated bug describe it as an unmistakable feeling of becoming weak kneed, emotionally flighty, and prone to bouts of impromptu joy.

According to researchers on the subject, Twitterpated incidents usually occur in Springtime—the weather warms, dresses come out, flesh is revealed, and birds chirp romantically to newly budding flowers. Love is indeed in the air. Once they become Twitterpated, people are oblivious to the world around them and are often caught whistling “It’s a Beautiful World,” buying daisies and greetings strangers on the street citing random bits of poetry.

My dear friend Alexis is one of these people. She skips down the San Francisco streets with her arms in the air. She smiles and giggles and quite frankly, has lost her ability to appreciate anything dry or sarcastic. I have tried everything I can to bring her back down to earth with sobering tales of unromantic things. I mentioned the recent shooting in the Tenderloin, told her of the dire straits of Zimbabwe, and reminded her that our 401K plans were now 201Ks. Alas, nothing worked. Alexis had drunk the kool-aide of the hopelessly smitten and wore her perma-grin proudly. Hmmppfff……I cannot believe the Twitterpated epidemic has claimed one of my own.

Alexis is proof that yes, love is possible even among the alpha females and alpha males in this never-never land of a city.

I am happy for my dear friend yet also quite perplexed. This Twitterpated kool-aide frightens me. Although I once used to fall in love with anyone who had a foreign accent, I now have turned into a disbelieving curmudgeon (Down with Love is my favorite motto). I wonders if I will ever get there again.

It’s not I have not found someone Twitterpated worthy. In fact, the fabulous man I recently met is worthy of many poetic odes.

However, for some reason I am incapable of releasing and letting myself fall. Swooning, an act I used to perform on a regular basis just isn’t as easy a feat anymore. I am terrified throwing out my back. Or falling hard to the ground. Or making a mistake. Or losing my cool and collected composure and have that THING take over my body, weaken my knees and knock the wind out of me. Alpha females, after all, like to be in control.

My friends have three theories:

“Maybe he’s just not the right guy. I am a huge believer in ‘When you know, you know.’ Instantly. It should hit you over the head like a ton of bricks. Chemistry is unmistakable…and losing control inevitable. But trust me, it’s the best ride you will ever take!”

Mazz: "Hmmm…perhaps you are not allowing yourself to "twitterpate" because you are subconsciously attempting to protect youself? I think many women are so afraid of making a wrong choice or getting hurt that they don't allow themselves to fall for someone unless he is "perfect" or "their type." Juliet, "your type" in the past did write you love ballads and sail the isles, but he also turned out to be a manic depressive lunatic. Perhaps it's time to swap out a few "type" characteristics for some others? If you are sure to keep an open mind with this guy, you may be surprised at how quickly a non type twitterpates you."

Natalie: "Bah Humbug. Twitterpated is for the birds. It's a fleeting feeling that has no basis in reality. Getting to know (and fall in love with) someone takes time. Remember the time you flew across the world to end up with some crazy European that you came to despise? Rash does not equal love. Be patient. Do not force it, give it time, and nurture it to fruition..."

Which theory is correct? I guess time will tell. But one thing is for sure- even if it looks ridiculous, skipping down the street singing love songs sure does seem like fun!

Monday, April 20, 2009

I need a man...

Although my reader’s comments have been helpful, I was still feeling particularly perplexed by the blurred lines of gender roles in dating. Forgot splitting the check—there are far more important etiquette questions such as indicating interest, playing hard-to-get, and my personal challenge- remaining flirtatiously feminine after I sprained my ankle in boxing. Ack---I wish I could revert to 2nd grade and just pass the guy a note. “I like you, do you like me? Check box yes or no…”

Sadly I am no longer 7. At 30, dating is full of baggage, complications, and some defensive desire to remain cool and aloof. We hate games, yet everyone seems to tell us to play them. There is no knowing how much to hold back, how much information to give, and how independent we remain.

I had been seeing someone and had no clue how interested he was in me NOR if I should act interested in him. If we were 7 we would have sealed our love in a backyard game of catch-and-kiss. Instead we were both overanalyzing text messages trying to decipher the hidden meaning in poor punctuation. In taking the relationship forward is ‘less more’ or is ‘more more’? And in terms of 'the game' are my chances of winning better if I play coy or act smitten?

Looking for answers I went out with the boys and decided to take advantage of varying male opinions over good quality scotch. “Tell me boys, when newly dating, how much love should a gal show?” I got three different viewpoints from three different men.

Angelo: If I like a girl I am in her sh** all the time. There is no way I am going to give an opportunity for another dude to get in there and take what is rightfully mine. So Juliet, trust me, if he likes you, you will be overwhelmed with attention. I am talkin’ poetry at your window, love ballads played on your voicemail, etc. Stay coy-it’s enticing and will weed out the good from the bad. You do not need to do nothing, honey. In fact, do less.

Max: Well…the poetry may indeed come but only if the poor guy gets some buy-in. With the exception of Mr. Angelo here, many of us don’t have the mojo we once did. I mean ,women can easily substitute us for a piece of plastic in their nightstand drawer! We need to know that she’s into the real deal. You don't want to be the over eager beaver, but at least give us a hint. Not make us guess lest we guess wrong. That fragile male ego---we need cheerleaders to convince us to keep playing.

Charles: Juliet, I have known you for a long time. Honestly, I would hate to date you and your alpha female gang. You girls go beyond coy and star in this little intimidating one act show. “Look at me-I am in MENSA, I rock climb without a rope, I change my own energy saving light bulbs. ” Are you dating, Juliet, or just out to prove that you do not need a man? The men I know are not pompous jerks and frankly need more cheerleading along with that wonderful feeling that you NEED them. You do not seem to need anyone. Can’t you at least ask him to assemble a shoe rack for you?”

I was taken aback. I mean of course we don’t NEED a man. Or do we? I am lousy at assembling anything in my life and last time I tried to change a light bulb I fell off the chair and bruised my hip. I guess I need to stop pretending otherwise and let my guard down?

From boxer to Damsel here I go...