La première rencontre (idéale).

The Perfect First Date.

1. Meet for breakfast at Philip Marie in the West Village. Share stories about Paris and Shang-hei. Drink mimosas until you are asked to leave.

2. Demand that the taxi driver stop at 9th Ave and 13th Street. Race to Agent Provocateur. Browse their Spring Collection.

3. Stumble upon a parade. Make fun of the traditional music. Tease the policemen.

4. Stroll through Central Park. Make out beneath cherry blossoms.

5. Draw opinions from the nude Matisse paintings at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

6. Take a taxi to a bar to meet a friend. Order a Manhattan. Make your friend feel uncomfortable.

7. Ditch your friend and hit up a sleezy pub. Take pickle back shots. Forget that you are dancing.

8. Suddenly awake in your bed (alone) at one AM, unsure of how you got there.

How to pick up guys at a club in Manhattan.

I suddenly realized that most girls don’t approach most guys.

But I tell you, it is a necessity if you are a twenty-something single girl living it up (or. busting your balls) in Manhattan. You don’t have time to sit around, wait, bat your pretty lashes, and play footsie:

Your twenties last only a decade!!!

Here are a few tips:

1. Wear heals. Not only do men love the way heals accentuate your pretty legs, but it gives you a heavy dose of confidence. And honestly, men love Steve Madden as much as Manolo Blahnik (any man who says otherwise is checking out more than just you and your shoes).

2. Hit the dance-bar or club with one or two best friends. Don’t go with too many girls. Too many ladies in a single group is fun, but creates a dynamic where no one wants to feel left out.

3. Exude that sexy confidence. Stand up straight, play with your hair, laugh, and have fun. (A Manhattan or two doesn’t hurt either…whiskey yum yum.)

4. Speaking of Manhattans, buy your own drink. If you’re waiting for a dude to buy you a drink, you emit an air of neediness and set yourself up for disappointment.

5. Seek a decent man within your immediate surroundings and strike up a convo about anything. He doesn’t have to be hot, in fact, start off with someone who’s decently average. Not only will his attention will make you feel confident, other dudes will see you talking to him and want your attention. (Plus, he may actually be a pretty nice guy despite his average looks, which is just as awesome).

6. Do shots at the bar to get the ball rolling. It’s fun and gets other people’s attention.

7. Leave the bar and go dance with your bestie, no guys allowed. (Generates lots of attention).

8. Keep an eye out for the tall foreign guys: the Swedes, the Frenchies, the Spaniards. They are the easiest to meet because they want to meet new people. These guys may not have table and tend to be around the bar with their buddies.

9. Somewhere, there is likely to be a promoter or some rich dude in real estate with a lot of girls and a lot of champagne. It’s easy to slip through over to their table and pretend your one of the crowd!

10. In Paris, my best friend and I had a thing we called la dance d’amour. When a hot guy was on the dance floor, we’d go over and dance wildly with each other. After a few minutes, flash a quick smile at him, and I promise he will approach.

Alas, with my crazy work and school schedule, I have no more time to go clubbing. So, please share your adventures and I will live vicariously through you.

Sympa.

“So what do you like about him?” My girlfriend asked me.

“He’s um….we’ll he’s…”

“Please don’t tell me he’s nice,” she interrupted.

There was a pause.

“Well…. he’s very sweet…. and …..he……makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.”

There was another long pause.

“He’s an actor…” I ventured, as if it were a redeeming quality.

“….Oh okay so he must be hot?”

There was another long silence. I could not confirm that he was hot.

“Okay so he’s nice,” my friend had read my mind, “do you know what else is ‘nice’?”

“What?” what I asked — being tugged along in my friend’s game.

“A friendship.” 

I laughed. But deep down I felt conflicted. In some cases, life is black and white. It seems like nowadays men come in two sizes: either they are tall, attractive, intelligent, ambitious, thoughtless, selfish and hurtful…………

….or simply ‘nice’

I don’t have the time or energy to wait for what comes in between.

Le mec sur le train.

Settling down in Manhattan is like trying to jump onto a train that’s moving at 80 MPH.

You steady yourself, aim, and JUMP….

…Then BOOOM you fall headfirst back into the dirt. 

It sucks having to pick yourself up and try again. So far I’ve been on about eight job interviews — some went well, some went no where, some blew up in my face.

But the beauty about Manhattan is that trains don’t stop. They’re always coming around…so there’s always a chance to try again.

Dating here works like that too. Luckily, I’m fairly skilled at jumping on moving dating trains. I’m smart enough to avoid oncoming train wrecks. I’ve figured out which part of the tracks to stay on (Midtown, Village, FiDi if you like “suits”). Hell, I’ve graffitied my name on a car or two and kissed the conductor goodbye.

But sooner or later the train your riding disappears because all people in Manhattan work like hell… Schedules clash, texts go unanswered, people get busy. It sucks.

But lo and behold, another train. This one is coming from Washington Heights and headed down Broadway. I wonder where it will take me?….

Oh, by the way that last train that I was on is taking a detour to New Hampshire. It’ll be back around this weekend.

….Steady, Aim, JUMP

His terms. Her terms.

I’ve been told several times that women have all the power.

Each time I almost choke up my drink from laughing so hard.

“Really? You think that we have the power?” 

Men usually stare back at me blankly, unsure if I’m being sarcastic.

So I explain, “Do you know how many relationships I’ve been in that were on his terms?”

Sure, when it comes to sex with a respectful man it is usually does begin on my terms. But the golden rule philosophy that I advocated so fervently two years ago is long, longover. Who wants to wait three weeks, three months, (heck even three days) for something that is so mutually wonderful?

What does it mean to be on his terms? You see each other when he is available. You have an exclusive relationship if he wants to. You stay mainly at his place. Yes, he may be kind enough to take you out to dinner or buy your movie tickets, but it’s still on his terms.

You’re here because he wants you here, when he’s ready for you to go, you go.

It’s pathetic. I don’t blame it on culture, it’s purely my own damn fault. But I have no interest in manipulation, I enjoy intimacy, I give in too easily. My best friend knows how to catch ‘em and keep ‘em with her sharp tongue and quick temper. She uses sex as punishment and reward. She likes to play games.

And so, my young mind inquires how does a woman have a relationship on equal terms without playing stupid love games. Is it a matter of whom you choose? How you choose? Where you choose? Does it depend on where you are in your life?

I’m going to ponder this question, experiment a bit, and get back to you about it later. Surely, there is a smart answer. I’m so tired of feeling like I have no control because I took control of what I really wanted.

Summer Lovebug.

They say that spring is the season for love.

That may be true for some, but here in Los Angeles it’s all about summer. Pool parties, dance festivals, weekend trips to Vegas, perfect weather — there’s a virus in the air that everyone is breathing.

It’s hard not to get wrapped up in this summer’s love feast with the tan bikini wearing blonds strutting around the poolside in heals. Finally, the tall actor hotties you lust for can take off their shirt to reveal six pack they work so hard on all year long. And yes, you can shove your bikini clad booty into their pelvis to the lyrics “oooh baby you want me? You can get this lap dance here for free…”

It’s summer time.

And even if you’re not into the hotel poolside culture, who can resist all the girls in crop tops and see-through sundresses strolling down Venice Blvd?

Fall in New York may be around the corner, but this summer there is no better place to be than LA.

…except Ibiza…..maybe….

Le Bel Ami…

I have stopped processing when a man is beautiful…

Cognitively it no longer registers in my brain.

A month ago I met the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.  He stood there tall and confident, and with a self-assured gaze. His crisp, blue button down shirt that rolled that at the cuffs betrayed him as a foreigner to Los Angeles. Upon our meeting, his first words were to inform me that he’d studied economics at Harvard. I smiled and nodded, pretending not to be impressed.

It was a magical weekend. We spoke frankly about our lives and about the world. The liaison was as intellectual as it was romantic. I felt free to be my true self — or at least free to be the idealized version of who I’d like to be.

When the weekend was over, I found out the terrible truth…

He had a girlfriend.

“What is the point of meeting the PERFECT guy,” I later vented to my girlfriends, “A man who is tall, handsome, charming, attentive, well educated, and has a great job, but who is also a man who cheats?”

What is perfect anyway? Does it lie in those superficial qualities that we deem so important (beautiful, well off, ivy-league educated), or is it something internal that is more difficult to gauge?

Sometime has passed and I assure you that I am fully recovered with many other adventures to share, but the effect is that I can no longer register beautiful. It’s like I am color blind….I can see tall, I can see sexy, I can see charming and intelligent, but beautiful no longer registers. I just don’t see it. 

Not that it’s a bad thing! With dulled senses comes the ability to perceive hidden attributes invisible to the naked eye. I have begun to sense qualities like sincere and faithful — qualities that enrich my definition of perfect.

La sincérité.

Allow me to share some important advice about dating…

…a rule that a lot of women don’t realize until it’s too late.

A man will tell you who he is from the very beginning.

-If you’re on a first date and he jokingly admits that he spends too much money, than you should make a mental note that he has trouble balancing his finances.

-If you’ve already started dating and he says that he’s not really into sex (some men just aren’t because they’re insecure, take medication or just secretly gay), then sooner or later you’re going to have some trouble in the bedroom.

-If you are friends and he admits that he’s cheated a lot on his past girlfriends, THAN YOU DAMN WELL SHOULD KNOW HE’S A CHEATER!

Listen to what a man says. There is no excuse. A woman knows exactly what she is heading into if she’s smart enough to pay attention.

I was once on a date with a man I’d just met. Though he was entertaining, charismatic, chivalrous and charming there was something strange about his eyes. They were too pale blue, too magnetic. We chatted and laughed and enjoyed what was otherwise a great time, and as we pulled up to the restaurant, he ended his comical story with:

“….afterall I’m kind of crazy.”

“What?” I said, flabbergasted and suddenly uncomfortable.

“I can just be kind of crazy sometimes…” He repeated laughing.

Despite a great first date, I never called him again.

Les mannequins masculins.

I’d like to take a moment to vent an annoyance

Male models.

They piss me off. I hate their confident gait and listless smile. They command attention to themselves in a way that a woman feels drawn to. Naturally, I am compelled to smile awkwardly and say something stupid like…

“Sure is a nice day we’re having….” Ya I know it’s random and hopelessly hackneyed, but I cannot help this attraction I feel. After all we have been standing here for the past 6 hours and I’ve already seen him naked.

“Huh?  Oh ya, I guess.” His eyes are vacant, his mind wanders. There’s nothing behind that perfectly molded forehead.

Fucking male models. Standing there all sexy, attracting women and not even caring.

And NO, I am not bitter! I am just annoyed. You see, male models throw off the dynamic between a man and a woman. It’s alright if a woman knows which angles suite her cheekbones, which salty foods bloat her, and if she’s obnoxiously egotistical. She’s being paid to be beautiful. Men are to pursue other ventures like hockey, automobiles, or the heart of a beautiful woman.

But when a man is standing there passively beautiful and a woman is compelled to pursue him everything is all wrong!

Balderdash and poppycock!

 

La femme de sa vie.

There are some guys who just don’t date?

For years they stride through life without commitments, flippantly enjoying romantic affairs from beautiful woman to beautiful woman. Often these men are rich, attractive, or extremely charismatic. And they’re usually nice guys, just not that interested in being tied down in a steady relationship like the rest of us.

And then after years you hear through the grape vine that he’s with some chick.

I found out that an old bachelor friend of mine had finally settled down with a cute girl. She was indeed quite lovely — though somewhat naive and demure — an oddly suited choice for this classic bachelor quite frankly.

“Is it the right girl or just the right time in his life” I asked myself.

So, I asked my mom’s boyfriend (a former none serious relationship dude back in the day)…

“So usually it’s a bit of both,” he explained. “He’s tired of the game and just wants to settle down. Guys like that are usually very critical so he must think she’s nearly flawless. It’s not always a bad thing though, usually a girlfriend makes a man like that a better person.“