The Single Gal's Haiku-Fest

Her search is on

To find a man to love her

She needs a compass

Danced until half past

Whenever. Calls never. Oh!

Should have worn the Spanks.

Paying for dinner

Gets big Brownie points sir

No kiss? WTF?

Should I call him first

Resist the urge to dial

I thought it went well

No chemistry darn

back to drawing board again

make the booty call

I won’t drive too far

Will she come to me for drinks

Is the drive worth it

Show legs or cleavage

Tough call. maybe both. neither?

First date. Sweats! why not?

Likes 80’s music

Whisky and loose women too

Unshaven legs won’t help

Online dating sucks

Shocked most can’t spell ‘you are’

Deal breaker for sure

Hot dog suit is cute

Talked long, beat him at Scrabble

He's really something

He brings her flowers

She makes dinner and then woops

Third date kiss runs long

It only takes one

To make it all worthwhile so

Just keep on truckin’

Finally it worked

Perfection at last. So great

We get each other

Mean Girls

I have often struggled with female friendships. Women put so much responsibility on each other to be a safety net from the treachery of life. We seek solace in each other. When the relationship is going well, a sense of solidarity and understanding causes an extreme bond. When a rift develops (and inevitably does) we feel abandoned, betrayed, and misunderstood. Here is my take in a nutshell:

I have had many different types of friendships with women in my youth and adulthood and have found an undercurrent of co-dependence and competition in all of them at one point or another. I have been the less-pretty wing woman for a particular girlfriend with daddy issues who needed the attention of men in order to feel validated. I have been the stronger, supportive friend who is relied upon as the "shoulder to cry on". In either situation, one woman is in a position of power over the other. It takes a highly evolved person to maintain female friendships because of the constant power struggle. In my late 20's I have found these relationships challenging because the different life stages women find themselves in. This is where I have found the statement "birds of a feather flock together" to be true. Married women and single women have a more difficult time relating to each other and resentments can stem from jealousy. Likewise, with women with and without children. Priorities are shifted. In order to bridge the gap there needs to be more compassion for each others lifestyles and priorities. Since female relationships rely heavily on the support system, trying situations cause us to take things personally and seek validation from other friends which lends itself to cattiness, gossip, and exclusion. Just like any relationship, ebbs and flows will occur based on circumstance. Being true to yourself, having an open heart, and cultivating self worth from within and not from the opinions of your girlfriends can lend itself to maintaining long lasting friendships with women.

Like a game of Survivor, I have been voted off the island more than once. It's hurtful and infuriating. What I have learned through these experiences though, is that each person who comes into our lives serves a purpose. Friendships do not have to last forever. If we are fortunate, they do last a life time, but not without bumps in the road a long the way. Choose to stick with friends who make you feel good about yourself and be sure to nurture them to ensure you make them feel the same way. Give each other space to lead your own lives and don't meddle or be too opinionated about the others life decisions.

When one door closes, another one opens

Or, what I mean, is when I close one door, I slam the fucker so hard that 6 or 7 open. The past month has been a whirlwind. In a nutshell:

I lost my job

I got a boyfriend

I got my job back

As a result, got a promotion

Losing my job was the bitch slap of clarity I needed to get honest with myself about my abilities, aspirations, what is necessary vs. frivolous desire. I got in touch with true gratitude and loosened my grasp on what I thought I had control over. I relaxed and lightened up. I had no idea how tightly wound I had been. The loss was sudden and I was angry. I was bitter and my feelings were hurt. Fortunately for my ego, I was not singled out-everyone lost their job that day- so I still had that to hold on to. Until I got on Craigslist to look for my dream job.

I realized as I searched the classifieds that I had my dream job. I still felt that I had so much to learn and to give as a Matchmaker. Alas, I knew that I would find nothing that sounded like fun if it meant sitting in a cubicle. Thus, I began brain storming ideas about starting my own business, which I still may do, but that all changed when I was asked to not only come back, but to come back with a promotion AND a raise. WTF, UNIVERSE? Thanks! Needless to say, Life is action packed, days are long and I am being pulled in a million different directions. Really though, I couldn't ask for a better life right now.

That being said, The Boyfriend--Mr. Hilarious. We are sickening sweet twitterpated with eachother. All I have to say is that I finally started practicing what I was preaching, decided not to settle for less than perfect, and I got it. And then some.

Case in point, an email exchange from today. Back story, I made him soup last night and he took the left overs for lunch today.

To: Mr. Hilarious
From: Anni Hispanni
It always tastes better the next day...Did you dance around your office with your soup singing "I love SOOOOOUUUP!!!"? I can picture it now...You are sitting at your desk and everytime someone walks by you shout "See this soup?!? My GIRLFRIEND made me this soup!" Better cool it or one of your coworkers is going to gun you down. Then who would I make soup for, huh?

My imagination is in overdrive today.

To: Anni Hispannni
From: Mr. Hilarious
You know, that's actually a pretty accurate account of my past hour!I'm definitely obnoxious today. Obnoxious in love. I'm going to start wearing a bullet-proof vest around the office.
Seriously though, this soup is fucking GOOD! Let me say once more that you are the best girlfriend that any guy has ever had, ever. Smart, funny, sexy, an amazing cook... I couldn't design a better woman!
I can't wait to see you tonight!

That's what I'm talking about, ladies. Le sigh!

If my Vagina could talk...

It would say "Closed for improvements. Will not be in operation until further notice"

This dating thing is not working out. I suppose I need to just regroup and enjoy living my life for me for a little while. In all honesty, I feel relieved around my decision. I have so much more time on my hands (and between my legs!) now that I don't have to tidy up my apartment and shave my vag 2 times a week. With all this time left over I will be rehearsing for my role in The Vagina Monologues (AWESOME!), writing here more often, and taking dance lessons. I haven't decided what kind of dancing yet, but since I have ruled out the Horizontal Mambo, I am thinking of burlesque. Salsa, if I lose my nerve. The dancehall is not out of business for good, y'all!

So...Yay for me! Onward with the self improvement and such!

I just could not take the high road on this last dating debacle. We'll call him The Hot Danish. I. Do not. Geddit.

At the risk of sounding like a whiny 5 year old--HE STARTED IT!!! He called. Invited me out. Showed up. Paid. Kissed me good night. Texted me after. Rinse and repeat 5 times.

He then calls me 2 days AFTER we "took things to the next level" to ask me a food related question. I think this is the only time I would have preferred a booty call over a foody call. Feeling pretty annoyed, yet still hopeful, I gave him space. I gave him space for 1 week. I then proceded to write him this today:

Hey Hot Danish!
I'm assuming that you aren't dead, that you aren't being held captive by terrorists, or stranded in the desert.
I happen to be a fan of communication. It's pretty clear that you are not--at least communicating with me anyway. That happens to be one of my prerequisites for dating someone though. So... I had a good time getting to know you and am pretty disappointed that we never got to have that big blow out fight where I told you that your penis is small. That would have made me a liar though, which I am not. Most of the time.
I think you're pretty awesome (aside from the not calling me thing, that kind of sucks) and I wish you all the best on your dating endeavors.

Best,
Anni Hispanni

Okay, so it's more than a little passive aggressive. This is growth for me though! I don't think I have ever called a guy out on his douchebaggery in such a snarky way. I just became my own hero today.

I think I'm off to a good start on this whole self improvement gig.

WE'VE GOT THE FUNK!

If you're looking for a disco party, you've come to the wrong place. Though I have been known to rock an afro and bust out The Hustle from time to time, I just haven't been feeling like my bad self lately. My groove thang does not want to shake, thank you very much.

I know that things are pretty bad when I start choosing to stay inside my apartment watching reruns of Wifeswap in my stretch pants. By the way, if you have never watched Wifeswap I highly recommend it. On last night's episode one wife asked the other wife "What if your son came to you one day and told you that he wanted to be a GAY GARBAGE MAN?!?!". I could think of worse hypthetical scenarios, myself. I think my response to that question is "Sweet! Take down the recycling and when you get back we can sing showtunes together!" What can I say? Despite the general malaise that has taken over my psyche, I am still an optimist!

I digress...I actually have no idea what exactly is causing me to feel like an emotional zombie lately. That's what is so frustrating about it! I just can't pinpoint the root of all this evil going on inside my head. I used to have a solution for this feeling. It involved drinking enough wine to kill a horse while bawling on the phone to anyone who was brave enough to answer and take on The Crazy. Usually it was my Mom. Nothing really phases her though. I am sure that I inherited the Fuck It Switch from her, in fact. I'll provide evidence in the form of an email she sent me today:

Anni,
I was sending an email and I was including the smileys from smiley central. Saw this one and immediately thought of you. I know you will appreciate it. PS. Papa’s hip is broken.

I shit you not. The Smiley graphic was of a smiley wearing a scarf and beanie trying to pry his tongue of a frozen pole in the snow. Hilarious that not only did she think of me when she saw this graphic, but also that I would TOTALLY IDENTIFY! After all, I do tend to make poor, nonsensical decisions like licking a frozen pole all the time!Oh yeah! Papa's hip is broken too! Just thought I'd let ya know!

Jesus, I don't even know what to do with that piece of information. I have always struggled with feelings of guilt for living far away from my family and not feeling like an intregal part of "The Tribe". This is just icing on the cake. I am going home for Christmas so I will be able to spend some time with my ailing Grandfather, but I guess that I am afraid that this may very well be the last Christmas I have with him. Just sort of a bummer! I doubt there is a Smiley graphic for broken hips and broken hearts.

Despite all of this, I just have to remember that my life is really, really awesome. I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, I have two jobs that I absolutely love (most of the time!), my Grandpa and a lot of other family members that I love are still around to spend Holidays with, I have a gay room mate who takes out the garbage and listens to techno pop while he does it, and most of all, I have great friends to shake my groove thang with when the occasion calls for it.

The perils of online dating

When I was 18 years old, naive, and reeling from breaking up with my high school "sweetheart", I decided to hit the information super highway for love. I started chatting online with some righteous babes right away and quickly became addicted to the plethora of young available guys prowling the net. I spent countless evenings exchanging flirty banter, taking the perfect self portrait on my webcam, and then one fateful night I found him.

His screen name was Tahoebro78 and he was oh so dreamy. He regaled me with tales of road tripping across the U.S. following Phish tours and breaking his leg rock climbing.After chatting online with him for 2 days we set up a day to meet up and spent the remainder of that evening talking on the phone. I was smitten. I was ready to meet my future husband.

I had never been on a blind date before and I was so nervous that I spent the entire day changing my outfit, curling and re-curling my hair. At 6:00 I finally had chosen the perfect outfit. A cotton candy pink zip up sweater, light blue flare bottom jeans, and white and pink converse. I sprayed myself down for the 50th time with Tommy Girl Perfume and hid in my room until the door bell rang at 6:15. I answered the door and there he was. Every bit as gorgeous as I had pictured in my mind. He was sweet and boyish with thick chin length blond hair tucked behind his ears and wore a thrift store sweater and corduroy pants. We exchanged an awkward hug and I am positive that I giggled some nonsense about leaving before he had to meet my Dad.

I don't remember what we talked about on the ride over to the game park where we were to race go-carts, but the conversation went smooth and easy like the green hit off a freshly packed water bong. We laughed together and sang along to the soundtrack of The Grateful Dead playing on the cassette player that sat between us on the center console of his shiny Super Wagoneer.

As we pulled into the parking lot he playfully mentioned that he was actually quite competitive and I had better prepare myself to be left in the dust. Little did I know that in mere moments I would be eating his words.

Being the perfect gentleman that he had turned out to be, he told me to wait in the car so that he could come around and open the door for me. He grabbed my hand and kissed me on the cheek as I hopped out into the giant gravel parking lot of the game park. We linked hands and began to walk up to the entrance when he turned to me and asked...

"Wanna race?"

He could have asked me if I wanted to do The Worm over hot coals and I would have acquiesced if it meant he would fall in love with me.

Since it had been a good 10 years since I had last sprinted full throttle I thought that this very moment was as good as any to take it up again. I looked into his dreamy blue eyes and accepted his challenge. Before the words could leave my lips he was in a full on sprint with a good 5 yard lead. I took off behind him doing my best to keep up. My mind was racing along with my legs and I'm thinking:You know, this is kind of ridiculous. What kind of guy challenges his date to a race? He's totally kicking my ass too. Oh my god...I hope I don't have pit stains after this.

Pit stains would be the least of my worries. As my body careened onward I could feel the weight of my shoulders pulling me down. Picture a duck with its wings tucked back, gaining speed, neck craned out into the universe, propelling itself faster and faster before it's grand ascendance. That was me, but there would be no grand ascendance into the horizon.

Fortunately, Mr. Granola was so far ahead of me he had no idea that there was such a spectacle going on behind him. Feeling a bit of relief that he was completely oblivious to me, I began to recover my stride when the unthinkable occurred. I could feel my pristine white and pink Converse One-Star make it's great escape from my right foot. There was nothing I could do to compete with the force of my body's increasing speed in conjunction with the betrayal of my footwear.

I was going DOWN.

I slid into the asphalt like it was a Slip n' Slide. The all too familiar sting of gravel infiltrating my palms brought me back to my childhood, and that really isn't ever a fun place for my mind to wander. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts and take inventory of what had just transpired. When I gathered the courage to look up, Mr. Granola was charging up the steps doing his best Rocky Balboa impersonation. He looked behind him as he reached the top of the steps, arms still pumping in the air when the Security Guard tapped him on the shoulder and pointed across the vast parking lot at me. I was still on the ground waiting for the universe to do me a solid and swallow me whole.

Mr. Granola rushed back over and peeled me up from the pavement and hugged me. It was then that I looked down and noticed that my clothing was streaked with asphalt and my jeans were ripped at the knee exposing a gnarly glistening strawberry. I looked like I had just been run over by an 18 wheeler. Attractive look for a first date, no?

In retrospect, I question his chivalry because he didn't offer to drive me back home to change. I'm a trooper though and I made a weak joke about how he would look after I kicked his as on the go-cart track. He ended up pummeling me in that department as well. So much for a pity win! Competitive indeed, no lie.

So I suppose at this point, you may be wondering what came to be of Mr. Granola and me. Well, let's just say that it all ended in a park very late at night after copious amounts of weed had been spliffed and a promise that I wouldn't get any diseases from allowing him to fondle my nether regions.

There are some real charmers wandering around the internetz.

Snow (flakes)

Is it the economy? The Holidays? Do I smell bad? Because within the past 2 days I have had 5 people cancel plans with me at the last minute. Hand to God, I am not this bitchy in person.

I think the icing on the cake was when The Missionary canceled going to Thanksgiving dinner with me. I'm not so much upset that he wasn't there, but honestly I'm just baffled at the absurdity of it all. He called me and asked me what to bring to the party the day before! Then...

*Crickets*

I defy the gospel of all the dating advice I have scoured over in the past year (for work I tell you!) and I call him. Then text him. Then call him. Then text him. Finally I get a response 15 minutes before I am set to go over to the party that says:

"Hi Anni. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner, but I couldn't do the dinner. I'll owe you for the cheese and crackers if you are not too mad. Have a Happy Thanksgiving."

Let's break this down, shall we?

Hi Anni
Oh! Hello there! Where did you come from?

Sorry for not getting back to you sooner
This is not a get out of jail free card for inconsiderate behavior, SORRY.

but I couldn't do the dinner.
Assuming that making a phone call is too arduous for you, I'm genuinely shocked.

I'll owe you for the cheese and crackers if you are not too mad.
You owe me for more than cheese and crackers, dude. Money makes the heart grow fonder, though.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.
Fuck your compliment sandwich.

Obviously, I am taking this personally when in reality, this has absolutely nothing to do with my value. I have cancelled plans, and pretty much slid off the face of the Earth to avoid talking to someone I was no longer interested in. I have never stood anyone up though. It's a deal breaker.

All I have to say is that rejection is the Universe's protection because I actually DID have a Happy Thanksgiving! There were a couple of totally cute available guys at the party I attended, and who brings a sandwich to a buffet?