Are we becoming the men we want to marry...

Tuesday evening my friend Alexis noticed a particularly interesting "thought" on her 'Deep Thoughts' daily calendar. She immediately emailed her closest friends a thought-provoking email with the deep thought du jour in the subject header. It was: “We are becoming the men we want to marry.”

A man? Moi? But I had little time to think about it as I was running late to boxing class. I picked up my sweaty 12 oz. gloves and felt my stomach to happily acknowledge the progress of my six pack. Hot—I was almost as tight at Matthew McConaughey. It never dawned on me to think of this as masculine. Can't muscles and dripping sweat be sexy on a woman in a Charlie’s Angels kind of way? Or did I resemble a testosterone infused beefcake?

Across town a much more femininely attired Mazz was debating restaurants. She was on date numero dos with Mac, and wanted to pick a place with the right ambiance and cuisine. It never occurred to her that HE should be the one picking the restaurant. In fact, given her Napa and Sonoma IQ, she expected the waiter to hand her the wine list as well. However, although Mazz was sure of her ordering savvy, she wasn’t sure what the new rules were for paying the bill. If we are assertive on the Syrah selection are we expected to be equally aggressive at grabbing the check? Are the days of females being romantically wined and dined coming to an end?

And somewhere between Mazz and myself, Eva was celebrating closing another big business deal that rivaled her husband’s. When they had children, would it make more sense for the family to have a stay-at-home dad or a stay-at-home mom?

I realized that somewhere the tables had turned-women were taking on roles traditionally reserved for men and doing a damn good job at them. Do we do this because we cannot find a man to do this for us? Or do we actually enjoy (the once deemed) masculine roles? And if we do, does this make us less feminine?

"I still want to be the girl," protested Mazz.

"And I can't help but act like a girl, even when it annoys me," responded Alexis. Indeed, I noted that even my most sure and powerful female friends still get girly and estrogen induced needy at times.

No matter how assertive we may be on selecting the venue for a date, we still turn into a quivering mass of pathetic-ness of the guy doesn’t call us the next day.

And no matter how strong our muscles are, we would be traumatized if they were larger than the those of the men we were dating. “I shouldn’t be able to beat up my boyfriend,” one girl commented, "he needs to protect me from the dangers of the world."

And although women like Eva gain glory from career success, they still are hesitant to take on the bread winner role in the family. “Is it wrong that I want to conquer the world yet still have someone take care of me?” another girl chimed in.

How do we balance our new-found Type A achiever goals with the pleasure of remaining feminine and nurturing? After all, romance is based upon deep sighs, wistful stares, and the feeling that we are beautiful and worth protecting. Romeo’s lines were NOT

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the alpha female dominatrix
Arise, fair alpha, and kill the envious moon with your boxing and powerpoints….”

No no…..Romeo was inspired by a fair maiden with eyes like the stars….and deep down we all want to be that type of inspiration to a man… while conquering the world at the same time!

When to Do the Deed

I was having a typical Friday happy hour in San Francisco—sipping overpriced bubbly and talking to well-heeled girls about dating wows and woes.

Jackie was perplexed. “I really like Alex,” she said. “We have been out several times laughing and smiling…but I am very hesitant to spend the night with him. I am fearful that once we sleep together he will lose interest.”

What?! Even though Jackie’s loins were aching to give Alex more, her carefully guarded mind wouldn’t let her for fear of being regarded as an “easy target” and immediately dismissed from relationship status.

But why? If two people are having fun, why wouldn’t the man want that to continue after sex? And if the sex is good wouldn’t that be all the more reason to come back for more?

Why is sex a trump card that can potentially end the game?

Alexis told her, “Jackie, I think you need to stop worrying. It seems like he genuinely likes you. And if you are aching to get naked, by all means give in to the seduction of the moment! I bet he’ll want MORE of you.”

I chimed in, “Yes, we shouldn’t have to deprive ourselves just because some an old fashioned woman with cobwebby loins wrote the book 'The Rules' and frightened us to frigidity.”

But I later realized that my words were only vacant mutterings.

With all our bags of experiences, giving in to the moment is increasingly challenging.

My 3rd encounter with an unnamed young man ended at my place at 2 in the morning. I was very excited to get this hot specimen all to myself. Now exactly what to do? Plan A: Show him my shoe collection. Plan B: Attack.

Plan B was initiated before we even closed the door. After all, weren’t walls invented to be slammed up against? However, executing the plan beyond the wall slam maneuver was easier said then done. Sometime during the bedroom tussle, my sex savvy faltered as Jackie’s words entered my mind. I was trapped in a scene from the movie “Love Actually” where the neurotic woman finally gets the hot guy (Carl) in her bedroom…only to be overly distracted from lovemaking by the constant chime of her phone ringing.

I had my own phone ringing—the crazy wheels of my mind. Although I appeared to be kissing I was really writing a list of profound questions in my brain.

1-What would happen the next morning? Would I still be able to make my morning spin class? Or would there be lingering? Is there a breakfast obligation?

2-Was I giving in too soon? Is a hot 2am hookup really saying sayonara to any form of relationship? But did I even want a relationship?

3-And regardless of relationship, if I were going to "do the deed" what was my assurance that it would be any good? What if he was a “wham bam thank you ma’am” type of guy? I certainly didn’t want to add another notch to my bedpost for a one-time 4 minute encounter.

Sigh. I certainly wasn’t going to solve the world’s problems that night. But the next day I made a new commitment to myself. Shut off the brain. Enjoy the moment. And pretend you are in love—even if it’s just for a few hours. If the man still leaves after an evening of sordid seduction, he wasn’t going to stay in the first place.

Dating is for the Disinterested

Last week a male friend of mine and I discussed how America is the only country that has this complicated game of ego and juggling we refer to as dating. Europeans don’t date multiple people at a time. Neither do Australians, South Americans, Asians or Africans. In other countries, courtship goes something like this:

1. Man sees woman he likes and gets weak-kneed.
2. Man, through ridiculous poetry or other gallant gesture, asks woman out. (Well, in France anyway. In Southeast Asia leaving a dairy cow on the front porch can be construed as sign of interest)
3. Woman says yes.
4. Man puts all his effort to impress this one (yes, only one) woman.
5. Woman spends her time wistfully thinking about this one (yes, only one) man.
6. After the first date the smitten two smile and sigh and build a couple-hood. They have no desire to meet anyone else…well, until the French man decides to take a mistress.

Minus the mistress part, why can’t we emulate the rest of the world? It’s romantic, it’s easy, and it’s a focused effort. Why do we feel a need to date multiple people and spread ourselves thin?

Theory Number #1-The Ego Boost:
Having multiple men interested in us makes us feel desirable and dreamy and puts an extra skip in our step. Never mind if it’s the homeless man on 6th and Market telling me I’m a “damn sexy bitch.” Attention, even from a crack pipe aficionado, feels good. Men, I believe, take this to another extreme. It’s an ego boost to have many women interested in them, yes. But if a man can master SLEEPING with multiple women….well, that must mean he is God. Even some translations of the Koran depict a man’s heaven as having sex with 72 (virgin) women. Of course here on earth any man that has 72 women sleeping with him likely isn’t that selective or have much else going on in his life.

Theory #2: “I don’t believe in love at first sight”--The Backup Plan
Gone are the days of falling in love with the dark stranger in the Starbuck’s café. “Down with (immediate) Love” is the motto of the 30 somethings. As we get older and jaded we don’t trust a man after one or two dates and must have backups readily available. Even the book, “The Rules” advises us to have multiple dates with different men lined up so that we don’t become too attached to any one and risk a broken heart. The issue with the backup plan is that we never really are focused on one person, and always in the mindset that something better could come along. This lack of focus mutes any chance of a romantic success. During my FeDoo phase I double and triple booked men into my Saturday. God forbid I make one date special and prep with a bubble bath, blow out and Marvyn Gaye. The result was a frazzled FeDoo: frizzy hair, deathly tired, and no ability to keep the names of her daters straight. I realized that no man interested me enough to sacrifice my whole day prepping for, which brings me to Theory #3.


Theory #3: Disinterest.
Mazz was perplexed. One of the guys she had been casually dating wanted to spend time with her next weekend. But Wednesday-Sunday were designated for Happy hours, group dinners, singles parties, etc. “How can I find time to date this one boy when all my nights are filled looking for new boys?” she asked. Alexis responded wisely, “Perhaps if you are still dedicating time to find boys instead of going out with them, you haven't found the one you want to be with.” After all, even the douchiest of all douchebags are known to stop their philandering and looking for “something better” when they find someone they genuinely like.

Meet Stu—one legendary douchebag—now engaged. “I put the D in douchebag. I swore I would never settle. There were too many hot girls! But then I met Sarah. All of a sudden I started playing Louis Armstrong’s cheek-to-cheek and dancing with my broom at home. I daydreamed….. of us on deserted beaches, of us during the holidays, of us having a mini me. Sarah had none of the qualities on my long list of necessary attributes. (i.e. she wasn’t a Playgirl bunny, hated sports, and had a stuffed animal collection.). But it didn’t matter. I didn’t care about any list or dating anyone else that may “fit it better.” Instead of wanting to cast a wider net, I wanted to constrict mine around Sarah.”

So what’s a girl to do? Do we sit patiently until we meet a man that makes us want to dance with a broom? Or do we get out there and continue to meet men, even though some are about as interesting as a dirty sock? There has to be some balance. But I agree with Stu---the right person will make us throw our long “list” out the window. If only I knew where he was.

Quantity Vs. Quality.

Yes, there has been a lapse in blog entries…mainly because the new FeDoo’s life is jam-packed! In the past few weeks my girls and I have expanded our nets to meet as many available bachelors as we can. Although quantity, not quality was the motto.

Widening the nets meant three things---date younger, date older, and turn business into pleasure.

Dating older: In high school, age gaps were defined in terms of 1-2 years. Why, dating a boy a year ahead of you indicated a higher social status, automatically giving you access to the “cool circle.” If one year in high school got me "cool"—what about multiple years older now? Determined not to be an ageist, I decided that love had no upper threshold. This meant that yes, I did end up on a dinner date with a man who was in possession of a cane. And not the candy kind. The caned man, however was gentlemanly, thoughtful, and offered to take me to Paris for the weekend. He knew his wine, spoke of exotic places and had more romance than the entire striped-shirt Marina clan put together. Caned man put the “W” in woo. Alas, if only I were 60. I was tempted to accept the Paris offer but quickly thought of the SATC episode where Samantha ran out of the luxe penthouse at the sight of a droopy ass. All the wooing in the world won’t firm a saggy butt. I’m back to being an Ageist. Or perhaps a Firmist.

Dating younger: Back in high school, dating a boy a year younger indicated that you were a social pariah, not cool enough for a man with facial hair. Thanks to Demi Moore the tides have turned. Dating a younger man proves you still have a six pack.

The best thing about a younger boy is their sheer gratitude for dating you. Why, before they met you, these young men only had Saturday night dates with their right hand (a la the "reverse stranger"). In addition, these young pups are impressionable. Dating a young 20-something is like going to the store and purchasing a mix for “Create-your-own-man.” “Reduce the hoodie here, add a dash of Prada there, sauté in fine wines”…..you get the picture.

Mazz met Bobbie out at a college bar. Never mind that he was born in 1986. He was chiseled and happy and eager to have a woman buy him beer. Mazz decided to pretend to be 23 as well….until the first date when young pup wanted to take the bus to dinner. And dinner was defined as $2 Taco Tuesday. Just like I couldn’t stomach a saggy ass for Paris, Mazz couldn’t forgo style for a tight one.

Business to Pleasure: Networking is the new black. In these recession times Rolodexes are more valuable than gold. But why use them just for business? At a technology launch party I met VC Savvy Eric. VC Savvy had a potential client for my firm. I was intrigued…and also curious if VC Savvy had potential for anything else. Thus we had a conference call on Wednesday and then a date on Thursday. The problem, I realized, with business to pleasure is the blurred lines. Do we expense the tab? Do we talk revenue projections or about where we grew up? And would a kiss interfere with my ability to garner more clients? Would I be seen as a girlfriend and less of a partner? I decided that in these troubled times, unless it’s true love, a man is not worth a career sacrifice.

So there you have it…. Lot of quantity and very little quality. I think I am about to throw in the FeDoo towel. It’s been a fun ride, but let’s face it, I’m a romantic. Surface level encounters are fun but too shallow for the wistful artist in me. In the spirit of Valentine’s Day I’ve decided to forgo quantity to wait for love…or at least a lot more “quality” lust. I am human after all.

Becoming a FeDoo (female douchebag)

In my hunt to further understand douchebags I dedicated the week to surrounding myself with the enigmatic species. Although my first inclination was to be judgmental of the D-bag way, I actually found that douchebags have some useful pieces of advice. The D-baggy men were on top of their game, made things happen and were leading pretty fabulous lives. What’s wrong with that? If Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City could “have sex like a man,” then why couldn’t I “date like a douchebag?” I decided to take some key douche bag traits and morph into a FeDoo-the female equivalent of our lovely male counterpart.

Top FeDoo Moves—stolen from the male douchebags:

Aggressiveness gets the prize: As previously mentioned, my flirting attempts are usually about as aggressive as a sloth in a coma. Douchebags are always aggressive though, even when approaching women that are clearly out of their league.

Therefore in an unnamed bar in San Francisco I decided to become an approacher of men. Not one or two but rather four rather attractive men were across the bar giving me the eye. At least one seemed to have an accent, my motivation for action. “Juliet,” my friend Eva said, “Go over there. You have nothing to lose. If you believe you’re hot, so will they. FeDoo it, honey.”

I downed a drink and trotted over while humming “Eye of the Tiger” for added confidence. “Hello boys,” I said. “Mind if I squeeze in here for a drinkie?” Hello boys. That’s all it took. Hours later the four Australians were still with us, flirting, chatting, and telling off color aboriginal jokes. The next morning the first text message to hit my screen was “G’day sexy.” Now...which hot Aussie to choose……or can FeDoos choose all four?

Equal opportunity: I have noticed that douchebags do not always have discriminating tastes. I have personally witnessed good looking D-bags make out with women that resemble old shoes. Not that I want to kiss aged leather, but perhaps we should be less selective, widen the pool, and see if anything good comes out of it? In a normal situation I don’t give a man the time of day unless I have measured his bicep circumference (yes, I carry a measuring tape in my handbag), gotten his IQ scores, medical records, and adequately quizzed him on Obama’s stimulus plan. 1.5% of the male population can survive my interrogation, which is likely contributing to my datus hiatus status. I decided to FeDoo it and be more open minded. If the guy can make me laugh, he’s in.

Make things happen: Douchebags make shit happen. They do not wait around for Lady Luck to play her hand. Rather, they spank Lady Luck on the ass. Some friends of mine had mentioned a male friend they had that I would likely get along with. “Platonic get along or naked get along?” I asked. “Perhaps both” they said. I could wait for the fates to bring us together OR I could give Luck a hearty ass slap. I propositioned my friends, “Here’s my photo, here’s my number. If he likes it, tell him to call.” I knew that if he had any douchebag in him he’d dial up. Over the weekend I got a ring. Score!

“Sooooooo…..I hear you like to eat and drink."
“Yes, I hear you like to eat and drink as well.”
“So what should two people do that like to eat and drink?”
Needless to say we decided against a walk in the park.
“Anything you don’t eat?”
I quickly decided not to list all my food allergies or pending diet plans. After all I was a FeDoo.
“Babe, I eat it all.”

Exaggeration does not equal lies: Douchebags don’t always lie but in order to get what they want they may exaggerate *slightly*. We all know too well that they are good at telling women what they want to hear in order to lure them into bed. So why shouldn’t we follow suit? If hot men guess that I am 25, I am certainly not going to correct them. In addition, if my job sounds too intimidating (for those 25 year old men, that is) I see nothing wrong with telling them I am a flight attendent. Men have a fetish for flight attendents. Therefore Mazz and I have memorized the entire United Airlines take off spiel so that we can repeat it in bars as proof of our employment status.

Hit on people you shouldn’t hit on: Douchebags hit on everyone showing no regard for social mores. Capitalizing on how douchebags go after every available female, I decided that I would go after every available male.

My brother was in town to visit his old b-school friends for a guys weekend. I quickly interrogated him on the status of each one –Single? Hot? Rich?

“Juliet...you cannot date my friends—they are all douchebags.”
Little did he know that only piqued my interest.
“Well, your friend Arthur seems nice….”
"No." he said.

Obviously my brother was determined to keep me chaste for the weekend. Little did he know I was a new FeDoo and had no regard for morals. I decided to secretly scan his blackberry and determine the location of the male bonding party where I would make a "surprise" appearance.

Hours later I was dancing and grinding with Arthur. I distantly heard my brother's voice in the background.

“Hey who did Arthur pick up?"
“Oh, he’s with some 25 year old blond flight attendent.”
“She looks just like like……hey damnit Juliet!!!”

Once my brother discovered it was me I was promptly escorted off the dance floor and lectured. But not before I got in some “close dancing” and dropped off a phone number.

FeDoo-the way to live in 2009.

The Spectrum of Douchebags

As previously discussed, the alpha male quotient in San Francisco is low. And the few that appeal to us seem to be fondly referred to as Douchebags. Who wants a Douchebag? Certainly not me… but then again, there are some Dbag characteristics that we actually secretly like. After all, these men must have something good if they can snare so many women.

In the alpha male family there are multiple types of men….and all line up somewhere on the Douchebag spectrum. The trick is to find out where they lie, and ensure that you end up with one with moderate edge and not a million STDs. Yes yes, I am suggesting that a little Douchebag-ness isn’t all bad. My boss once told me, “Juliet, all men are Douchebags. You just have to find one that isn’t as much of one as the others.” Therefore, Mazz and I went to Aspen for New Years, possibly the Douchebag capital of the world, to do some research. Male confidence was high from either mass riches or the high altitude. Perfect research territory.

Minibag: This man is a Douchebag wannabe. He is a huge fan of Mystery, the pickup artist, and tries to learn all the secrets to attract women. He really has no game but pathetically tries to win you over by the pickup artist's #1 rule: first put you down and then build you up. Aspen is full of these men; those small-statured men that try to tell you how much better a skier they are than you. The Minibag may be confused with a Douchebag by his false air of confidence…but he will easily crumble. The way to determine his true wimp status is to remain aloof and disinterested. Only a true Douchebag will pursue you relentlessly. Whatever you do, don’t end up with a Minibag.... you'll be kicking him to the curb in no time.

Alpha Edgebag: The Alpha edgebag is the man that has minor Dbag characteristics. He is self assured, perhaps even cocky at times, and goes after what he wants. He is actually interesting and doesn’t allow his edge to go overboard to make you feel uncomfortable. Mazz and I spotted an Alpha Edgebag our fist night in Aspen. He approached us by saying he needed to sit closer to the fireplace for warmth. He then told tales of motorcycle trips, and through his Edgebag stories, managed to get Mazz to first gaze into his eyes, and then lock lips. This Alpha Edgebag assured Mazz he didn’t want to sleep with her, just kiss her…thus making her feel relaxed and well, more interested in sleeping with him. (For the record though, she didn’t—we were just here on a research trip and we never mix business with pleasure...). The Alpha Edgebag is delightfully smooth…..and has potential.

Moderate Dbag: The Moderate Douchebag is a bit more dangerous. His confidence is bullet proof and for some reason you never think to question anything he says. Aspen has many men in this category. The men that live for the highlife, immediately manage to plug into the most promising scene and are determined to be opportunistic when it comes to interchanges with the opposite sex. Some are more than opportunistic. They make things happen and women....come. One Moderate Dbag threw a very exclusive lingerie party in Aspen where women couldn’t get in unless they stripped down. Yes, the Moderate Dbag isn’t a relationship person…but thankfully never pretends that he is. However, the Moderate Dbag isn’t all bad…if you are okay with a 24 hour relationship.

Complete and Utter Douchebag (CUD): This is the man who would rather watch porn than have a bonafide conversation. The CUD isn’t always that attractive but through sheer will manages to sleaze his way from party to party, girl to girl, making inappropriate comments at all times. There is a legendary CUD in Aspen—Johnny Aspen. J.A. is mid-40s, never had one serious relationship and through shady wheelin’ and dealin’ made a shady fortune. J.A. doesn’ t care about meaningful interchanges or experiences—just material possessions and well-photographed parties. Through his non-stop hip gyrating and propensity to provide ‘party favors,’ he manages to get into every club and party. He also lies to women about his PJ (that's Private Jet for the Aspen illiterate) and/or his desire to get married to get them into bed. Beware of the CUD. Not only will you be duped, but you may not even have that great a time in the duping.

What type of Douchebag is right for you? Likely depends on what you want….long term, short term, no term. And remember that even the most endearing man with the courtesy of Carey Grant still has some Douchebag in him.

Single for the holidays

I love the holidays….I love the songs, the food, the décor. I like being able to walk around in a Santa hat and shout out 'ho ho ho' with good reason. I like being naughy AND nice. I enjoy the bustle of holiday shopping, trying to pick out the perfect gift for the perfect person. This year however, I had many less presents to purchase. And it wasn’t because my family turned Grinch. It was because... this year I was single.

I have no idea how I managed to snare boyfriends all the prior holiday seasons past….but I always had someone to wrap for, someone to snuggle up to, someone who knew exactly how I liked my eggnog spiked….if you know what I mean.

Part of me found my brazen singleness liberating…why, I could kiss whomever I wanted….bring on the mistletoe! In fact I could walk around with a permanent mistletoe swig attached to the top of my head! Fa la la la la…….

But then I remembered…There weren’t many available kissing options where I was going for the holidays----I was going to a small town in the great arctic north….where the odds are good, but the goods are odd.

So instead of doing what most women do, and try to score a date before New Years, I decided stay single rather than getting cozy with a grizzled one tooth wonder. I would use the time to reflect on my many months of singledom, and take the lessons learned into the New Year……with hope and aspiration for a better dating future.

2008 Dating Lessons Learned
1. Datus Hiatus is overrated. It does sound really cool to say that you are PURPOSELY choosing not to date and er…uh…“work on things” but really….how much celibacy can one take? It’s a cop-out. We all know it. No one wants a hiatus. Not from sex anyway.

2. Be bold. From Brazil we learned that if we want it, we can have it. Rashly kissing men is the way of the future. Initiating the first move is not only warranted, it’s being asked for! Being afraid of rejection is soooo 2008….in 2009 it time to seize the bull by the horns. What do we have to lose?

3. Try not to drink too much on a first date. Especially if you are like me and get chatty. Remember the escapade with Dr Love? Too many wines had me drunk driving him home…AFTER he heard my entire life saga complete with details from orchestra camp. There never was a second date.

4. Do not strive for stability at the expense of passion. You will undoubtedly get bored. Remember when Alexis was caught between two men, the stable planner and the crazy band boy? Well, let’s just say that stability is nice and all, but wears thin after missionary position #2,043. Get a guy to throw you up against a fence, please.

5. Learn to flirt. Don’t waste time on men you don’t like, but when a prince charming comes your way don’t stare at your toes. Look into his eyes. And wink. Or grab him. Whatever works.

And most importantly, when you know what you want go after it. Dec 31, 2008……find that someone you want to kiss. Kick off the new year right.