For the LOVE of the GAME

Single women are athletes in a league of our own. We strap on 34-C cups, smear our faces with Revlon face paint and wrap ourselves in jersey-knit dresses in preparation to face our opponent. Often the flaw in our game plan is that we approach each match looking to score the perfect match rather than date for the love of the game.

Certainly, if our intention is to make the 9^th inning a happy ending, we must date only the top draft picks, but - simply put, sometimes you think you know what your ideal teammate will be, and then you date him only to realize that what you thought you wanted is not what you wanted at all (okay...that statement wasn’t as simple as intended, but you get the idea).

The other day, a dear friend told me, “the best players in the game practice.” It made me think about my own relationship stats: players with several girls in their line-up, shot-callers who would rather make business plans than dinner plans, the list goes on. Despite those foul attempts, I walked away with a better understanding of what I wanted in a man by being able to identify what I didn’t want.

So whether your goal is to retire from the single girl life with a wedding ring or just catch a person with whom you care to spend significant amounts of time with, better work on honing your dating craft now, because practice makes perfect.

The Good Deed: I’ve committed to helping inspirational athletes by participating in the Polar Plunge to support Special Olympics Chicago Programs. Their primary mission is to promote, foster and encourage physical and mental health and improvement for children and adults with intellectual disabilities and closely related developmental disabilities. For more information on The Special Olympics visit: http://www.sochicago.org/

Wise-cracks

What do you get when you cross an old lady with a vibrator…the next Single for Good post…

Oddly enough, when I first started drafting this post all I could think of were fortune cookies. Specifically, how once the crunchy exterior of the cookie is cracked a faint ribbon of optimism is revealed i.e.: The one you love is closer than you think (in bed) or A secret admirer will soon send you a sign of affection (in bed). My point…I like my wise-cracks coming from a tough cookie.

I was getting my volunteer on (while wearing my Single for Good-shirt naturally) at The Greater Chicago Food Depository when an older woman (with stiff bones and an even stiffer upper lip) asked me what Single for Good was all about. I told her about my mission to turn bad dates into good deeds and my means of creating good dating karma through philanthropy. Her response (prepare yourself):

“Let me tell you something… I’m 62 years old…I have been married twice and I was in a 21 year relationship after; all of which have failed. But I tell you one thing… my vibrator has never let me down”.

If you’ve fallen, pick yourself back up and keep reading…Maybe it was the certainty in her delivery, maybe it was the idea that a 62 year old woman has a vibrator within reach, or maybe it was the intoxicating combination of Metamucil on her breath and the faint smell of Bengay on her joints, either way…I couldn’t help but to wonder if, after many failed attempts at commitment, I too would become bitter and rely on supplements and sex toys to get me through the years.

I guess it’s all about your outlook …and a positive mindset is the way to go. That’s why one of my favorite fortune cookie scripts is… If you continually give, you will continually have. In true Single for Good spirit this calls for a morning volunteering and I can’t think of event more fitting than the Senior Breakfast Club serving up a healthy breakfast and playing Bingo with Chicago seniors early bird special style. What the heck…here’s one for the road (in bed).

Thrill of the Fall

I am a thrill-seeker with a love-wish. I take risks, gamble against sanity and will waste a good outfit for the chance at meeting a man that does his own stunts, makes me laugh and brings me veggie soup when I am sick. With hope fastened securely around my ankles, I’m willing to take the fall, only to snap back to the very same place from which I started. On occasion, I pour myself in curve-hugging make-him-sweat-wetsuits (aka skinny jeans and jeggings) and splash into murky bar waters attracting sharks. It may seem as if I approach dating with reckless abandon (guilty as charged, and I’ve gotten some scars to prove it) but these meet men-adrenaline-fixes pale in comparison to a feat I’ve recently seen involving a single woman and her partner.

At the height of romance, she insists on walking the commitment tightrope at relationship-defying heights. Pretty and poised she juggles a man that adores her, a need for infidelity, a disdain for marriage and a rubber ball as she eases her perfectly painted toes (he pays for her pedicures, naturally) onto the tight-wire. Arms sticking straight out at her sides (this maneuver aids in both maintaining her balance and preventing her lover from getting in too close) she teeters dangerously high above a crowd of opinionated onlookers who are stunned by her disregard for her safety net (*clears my throat* I mean, her relationship) and anticipate her plummet to their breakup. It’s quite the site to see.

She’s managed to successfully keep everything in the air, but for how much longer? Surly her arms will grow weary from juggling and eventually the winds of change will cripple her composure…wait a moment …WELL…I JUST received a text message from her asking me to cover for her tonight… so…there you go. Her decision has been made… I just hope she makes sure to wear a safety harness.

No stranger to heights myself (or commitment issues for that matter) I’ll be volunteering at one of my favorite places, Gary Comer Youth Center’s roof-top Garden in the Sky project. Busying myself with pruning, weeding, planting and harvesting is a great distraction and I could sure use the fresh air.

Repeat Offenders

Two-bit con-artists, cleverly cloaked as gentlemen steal hearts, shred them to pieces and shatter dreams for the future, leaving no fingerprints or traces of remorse behind. Sure, these offenders won’t be on America’s Most Wanted, but breakups are hardly a victimless crime. Ask any lass who has rehabilitated herself with tear-filled evenings, moscato fueled venting sessions to gal pals and downing several glasses of chilled chocolate soy milk and with doughnut holes.

It is my sincere belief that those hooligans guilty of breaking hearts and disappearing like thieves in the night should be draped in black and white stripped jumpers, thrown into solitary confinement (punishment should fit the crime; right?) and be forced to eat day-old bologna sandwiches on stale white bread with the crusts still on (no whole wheat, 12-grain for you buddy). Torture… I think not! Those breakup bandits who manage to get early release for “good dating behavior” (claiming that they’ve learned from their mistakes) should be fitted with a tracking device because, inevitably, they will attempt to return to the scene of the crime.

I submit to the jury Exhibit A…My email account was recently hacked and a message about erectile dysfunction medication (personally, I believe Viagra was in on this hoax) was sent to all of my contacts. A boy who I use to date (until he assured me that he was not looking for a relationship with me) received the email and replied back that “seeing my name in his inbox made him smile”. To the untrained eye, his response may have been innocent enough, but this behavior is suspect. What bothers me the most is that with these few words, I was sent right back to the moments of grief and wondering how it all went so very wrong. I see now that I must go back into witness-protection.

To bring law and order (gong-gong) to this circumstance, I will gladly volunteer at The Bottomless Closet. Their mission is to "elevate the employment potential and marketability of women welfare recipients who want to work." They "provide clothing, at no charge, to women on assistance who don't have suitable clothing to wear to a job interview." I much rather put positive energy towards helping women receive pinstripe suits than continue to obsess over seeing him in prison stripes anyway.

Nice RAK (Random Act of Kindness)

In this top-heavy world, (where one more retched date could send us stumbling forward in a fit of madness) us single girls can use all the support we can get. Not just the well-endowed daters (whose bad relationship cup runs over), but us prepubescent (itty-bitty-pitty committee daters) who need to be perked up after training ourselves to believe that meeting the “man of our dreams” would be much easier than this (boy, were we wrong). We need someone who’s got our back; Who can lift-and-separate us from our despair, assure us that there are good men in the world and say that you are a perfect just the way we are (plus, throw in the standard: he's a jerk who couldn’t handle a real woman like you, you’re better him off without him, and so on…)

The point I am trying to make (keep your eyes up here and read-along) is that I am no stranger to lending support to friends in need, therefore when Jill the Duchess (my Twitter buddy and all-around relationship guru) did a call to action for bloggers to perform a random act of kindness for her Royally Kind blogging initiate, the decision to join in was a snap! Typically, as a Single for Good, I volunteer for organizations, yet the idea of helping out an individual at random was a fun challenge.

I guess I really didn’t choose my random act of kindness, he chose me. He was a blind gentleman who approached me in need of direction to the restroom. He grabbed my arm and away we went. I guided Alex through a local shopping center to the restroom. We chatted about his recent move from Los Angeles to Chicago, I read him is text messages and later led him to a bus stop where he was off to met with a good friend. Before boarding his bus he thanked me and told me that I was of big help to him. It was a simple act of kindness, yet his gratitude could not be measured.

Check out other bloggers participating in Royally Kind:

"Res": http://resipsainsead.blogspot.com/
Caroline: http://www.remabulouscoaching.com/remabulous/Blog/index.cfm
Sharalee: http://alifemorefabulous.blogspot.com/
Linda: http://simplyseductive.blogspot.com/
Sasha: http://www.everythingfab.com/
Jennifer: http://www.dailybitsofbeauty.com/
"Red": http://www.redsaid.net/
Elizabeth: http://site.blissfulseed.com/blog/
Vanessa: http://www.thathappenedtome.com/
Paige: http://www.redefiningthemeaningofwealth.com/
Andree: http://andreebelle.wordpress.com/
Crystal: http://plushpalate.blogspot.com/
Trina: http://lalalovelythings.blogspot.com/

The Solo

Billy Shakespeare was right…“all the World’s a stage…” and dating is a low-budget, off-off Broadway production of CATS, set against the backdrop of a sketchy alley-way dotted with puddles of failed commitment excrement and reeking of lovers past. The lighting is horrid (brightness only comes in the passing form of a potential new love, then is quickly dimmed by dinner’s end) and the screenplay (worn from persistent rummaging with Cheeto stained fingertips) has no clear plot, lacks substance and stings of familiarity. No understudy required as I shine brightly as the star of this spectacle.

Typically I would love to see my name in lights (Single for Good The Movie…Anyone? Anyone?), but I’ve grown weary of being a performing artist; reading line-for-line from a script and getting into full character in order to impress someone. I’ve lost my true self in the role-play and am now essentially, performing in order to fill the seats and win rave reviews from utter strangers. The only critic that matters is the one staring back at me (well…and GOD and my mom, because let’s be frank, she’s going to give her opinion regardless). Its un-fulfilling. So, I’ve exit-stage right and started rehearsing by dating myself. I go to the movies, eat dinner and so forth, solo.

No more selling out to sale seats…the next guy will have to accept me for the Vegetarian-up with tofu-movement making, Vampire Weekend off-key singing, sassy-mouth having, Moscato chugging lass that I am. These tiny bits (and so much more) are the peculiar-particles that make me who I am. The man for me will embrace these things and crave more, chanting for an “Encore!”

During this dating intermission I will be volunteering at the Bright Pink 2nd Annual High Tea Celebration fund-raiser which shines the spotlight on woman who have been personally affected by breast and ovarian cancer. These women will share their stories to a crowd of 500 supporters who have contributed approximately $100,000 to help in Bright Pink’s continuing effort to provide national educational programming for young women at high risk for breast and ovarian cancer.

Spacebar

Call me curious, call me desperate…just don’t call me by my real name. After careful consideration and forcing down a mouthful of crow (lesson to be learned here is to never say never) I’ve traded in my hunt & peck typing style (I still have to search for the letter ’X’ on the keyboard) and am now hunting and pecking for men online.

I hit Ctrl+(hau)alt+delete on my original rationale that online dating is for those who have given up and are running out of eligible men. I now know better and realize that diagnoses is as outdated and flimsy as a floppy disk. A scan of my current dating situation revealed viruses, parasites, jerks, momma’s boys, you name it…so why not seek another avenue in which to browse?

After receiving recommendations for two free online dating sites from a fellow dating blogger (shout out to All the Single Ladies), I began brainstorming a user name AKA alias (seems the best code is flavor+type of candy+last two digits of birth year…for instance: SweetCarmel81 or SaltyAlmondJoy83). The profile creation in itself was rather detailed. I was faced with the hard-hitting questions (What are 6 things you can’t live with out? & Favorite hobby?) in addition to selecting pictures of myself that said attractive, yet approachable.

In being completely honest with myself I have to acknowledge that I need nothing more than to log-off from my dating reality…a rebooting if you will…we’ll see how it all plays out. Either my hopes of an netting my internet love will crash or, quite possibly, shift me into a relationship. Either way, makes for good blogging.

Having backspaced to a safe-space behind the computer screen, I’ll also take comfort in a tried and true volunteer opportunity with Chicago Housing Authority’s Senior Breakfast Club by cooking food and playing bingo with Chicago Seniors. Shutting down for now.