Wink

Internet Dating. Its been like the scary movie I don't want to go near. People can tell me how much fun it is and how they had such a great time but all I see is disemboweling and lots of blood. It has always been the thing that just the mere idea of doing sends me into a tailspin, every insecurity I have swirling about my head as I drown in a sea of self-doubt. And this is on a good day.

So I try it.

'Cause here's the thing- I have been conquering my fears one at a time out here on the West Coast. I had a major phobia of driving and I got my license in October and now scoot around town in a car I'm renting from a friend. And living with three other single 30-somethings is terrifying after living alone for so long. And admitting I had a real addiction to sugar has not been a walk in the park. So, Internet Dating it is!

I'm so sure I'm acting like I came to this decision all on my own. Such a liar. I had a friend and her fiance' who met on Match give me a good talking to about it while in NYC last. She was so good, in fact,  I convinced her to start an Internet Dating Coaching Business. I referred her to her first client and she even has business cards now, I think. I'll call her Internet Dating Coach, and her fiance' who is just finishing up his residency, Dr. Internet Dating Coach. They are the cutest things EVER and just got married last weekend.

I gave my usual protests: that the idea of 'shopping' for someone was totally unappealing, that the idea of someone shopping for ME and judging me based on photos made me throw up in my mouth, that I have so much wonderful emotional fulfillment in my gay male relationships that straight guys don't stand a chance in comparison, that I have a chubby chaser issue...the list went on and on.

Now IDC had been through the Match.com wringer for two whole years, making every mistake she could, which she herself admits. The last straw for me was, when she was going back and forth on instant messages with a new guy while at work in our dressing room, she asked if there was a 24 hour Starbucks because she wanted to meet the guy for the first time at one in the morning. (!!!) I quietly sank into the chair next to her and whispered intensely, "You are going to text message me when you get there and then every ten minutes until you are home and in your bed, understood?"  It was then IDC realized she was being a bit reckless. She was a recent divorcee and going balls to the wall- eventually she developed a good vetting process and soon found Dr. IDC.

So many of my fabulous gay friends had also suggested Match ("You should live your life, Boo; take a chance; get your kiki on!") and IDC was a firm believer obviously but it wasn't until a late night debate with her & her man that I warmed up to the concept. "You don't have to do any of the work if you don't want to," Dr. IDC said. "You can literally let them come to you. And they will." It was like I got the ultimate green light to be passive aggressive. Which is not like me. I am aggressive-aggressive (one of my favorite quotes from I HEART HUCKABEES, by the way). Or was. Or I am in most of my life but in order to swallow the pill of Internet Dating, I was going to HAVE to be the other. It was just too damn frightening.

I feel like I should give a little more explanation about why I have such resistance to meeting up with strangers for "dates". The summer after I graduated college, I found a job working as a telemarketer for the New York City Ballet in fundraising. Basically calling up people who had been to the ballet at some point during the year and landed on the NYCB mailing list and chatting. Its amazing how many single guys had bought Nutcracker tickets that year. I feel like I talked to all of them. And I was a telemarketing whore. I gave phone sex voice until they gave me a $100 donation. Of course some of them wanted to meet the girl at the ballet in person, stupidly assuming I was a ballerina apparently. Almost every date was a complete disaster except for the 40 year old who look liked he was Richard Dryfus' hot younger brother, but our age difference even bothered him. Blind dating was never an option ever again after that summer. I even had one charmer say to me over the phone, "I'll take an ugly girl over a fat girl any day because even if a girl is ugly with a hot body, you can always turn off the lights." Ugh. What a douche.

OkCupid is where I have ended up and it is kind of a nightmare. I've gotten a lot of serial killer looking dudes, 45 year old Marilyn Manson wannabes and 60 year old Asian men writing to me. But I did finally hear from a guy who was first-date worthy and I went. And it was nice. Fine even. Ends up he was at my friend's zeppole booth at the San Genaro Festival in September when I was working for her; he even had pics from it. He knew a guy who was working with us- such a small world. We had a great conversation that never lulled. But I didn't feel the chemistry. You know, that lil crackle in the air that has a hint of danger in it. Like you'd kinda wanna do stupid things with someone. And my inner voice kept chanting "Give it a chance, give it a chance..." so when it came time to leave, First Internet Date put his hand on the table and said, "Next time I'll take you to where the good pizza is in LA," and I, making a conscience choice to not be closed off, reached out to put my hand on top of his as I said, "That'd be great!" but instead of us touching, FID FLINCHED away and I MISSED. The moment suspended in time as we stared at the set of hands on the table and as if he was a wide receiver trying to salvage the fumble, he awkwardly placed his pinky and tip of his ring finger on top of my knuckle. *sigh* Awky McAwkwardton, anyone?

A few hours later I met up with a few peeps at the Villiage Idiot. One was heelarious Asian Gay Man, another was the 90 lbs. Slip of a Blonde who I had done a show with for a minute; she's a bit looney tunes in a good way and funny as a result. One was this guy I had met at a party in LA and we exchanged info because he had a short film he wanted me to read but I heard nothing from him. He lit up when he saw me. WE had mad chemistry. The crackle was obvious. He was a real flirt in general but we cracked each other up during our first meeting and picked up where we left off immediately. This is what I was talkin' 'bout. I know this exists.

And because Cool Girl can't be satisfied with personal growth, she immediately took in Slip of a Blonde and this guy and said, "Why aren't you going out with him?" and basically, after about 20 minutes, successfully bullied them into dating. *sigh* Its like the bar was named after me...

I just checked OkCupid. Nothin'. Not even a 'wink'. I think I may need the services of Mrs. IDC. STAT.

Dream

I've mentioned that I'm in Hypnotherapy. There is a misconception that you don't remember anything while hypnotized and that you actually have someone manipulate you during sleep. *buzzer* Wrong.

What DOES happen is that you have a guided meditation while in a highly relaxed state and basically get to daydream. I daydream all the time. Maybe to a fault. Certainly in the past this has been the case. I'll never forget the first time I realized that some people don't daydream.

My best friend from high school was in love with her Neighbor. Like, the Neighbor she grew up with who was about 5 doors down from her mom's house. He had just bought his childhood home from his parents who retired and moved away, I think. My BFFHS was spending aloooot of time there, doing a Cool Girl thing with him. Which was unusual because she usually went right for what she wanted and got it in relationships, and I spent many years of our friendship wishing I could be more like her. To quote When Harry Met Sally, guys were always crossing a room to talk to My BFFHS; even my own older brother said she was pretty enough to be a model. And although people would often think we were sisters, I always felt like she was the Pretty One and I was the Funny One.

This friendship of theirs blossomed while I was about to leave for a European Tour, right after I graduated college, and after hearing so much about him, the three of us hung out. We had a very long night of drinking and laughing at his house and by the end understood why My BFFHS was head over heals for him- he was a good time. And they had mad chemistry.

Fast forward to my third or fourth month on tour; it was all snail mail then, folks, no laptops or cell phone (I'm so old!) and I got a large manila envelope handed to me from my company manager. Inside were 8 pages or so of beautiful white draft paper with gorgeous printing- The Neighbor had written to me. And it was a strange letter that I read several times to understand- he basically wrote out a "date" he was having with me. I was stunned. First of all, when you meet a guy your friend likes, they may as well be a cousin to you. Period. This is how I roll. And second of all, I could not wrap my head around him choosing me over My BFFHS- would not accept it. So... I left it alone. And didn't mention it to anyone, especially not to her. It was the first secret I'd ever kept from her.

I returned to NYC in the summertime and began living with a good friend from tour in Park Slope, Brooklyn. The Neighbor contacted me to see about a visit. I, of course, contacted My BFFHS to see if she was planning on joining. She said she'd try but then something happened about when she could come and the Neighbor and her were no longer coming up together. She ended up not coming at all. And I remember it being preventable but I didn't prevent it. He came through my front door with a big hug and got comfy on my "new" area rug (it was so a newly-cleaned hand-me-down) which is where he was when my roommate met him. When she and I had a moment alone in our tiny kitchen, she whispered, "Okay, who's the sexy man lying on our rug right now?!" Sexy. I couldn't believe it. Or wouldn't is probably more like it. I was a hot stinking mess after her comment and when she excused herself very discreetly to leave us alone, I think I was purple with rosacia. Flushed from head to toe. I was in a pickle and couldn't get out.

To this day, I couldn't tell you how we got there, but at one point the Neighbor came up behind me, put his arms around me, whispered in my ear and asked me to give him a chance. I am tearing up right now thinking about it. I squeaked out, "What about My BFFHS?" and then pled my case with my "you're like a cousin to me" reasoning and he resisted only a bit before agreeing not to push but that he hoped I'd change my mind one day. Now I had a bigger secret to keep from My BFFHS.

It was the first fight she and I ever had. Over a guy. I was at a complete loss. My life-skills had not prepared me for this. She was very hurt about not being included in the weekend and we didn't speak for a few months. I was devastated. She was the only girlfriend from home I still kept in touch with and was my oldest friend.

During those months, my college friend was in the West Side Story tour which was making a stop in Delaware and I decided to go. And I boldly asked the Neighbor to come with. I don't know why I did it- to see if we could be friends? That's the answer I told myself, I guess. On the drive down, he asked me what I thought of CT and if I thought I could live there; he obviously hadn't given up on "us." I thought he was delusional.

We got there early and decided to walk around in the historic downtown area and began talking about our dreams while strolling along the cobblestone streets. Hopes may be a more appropriate word. I started talking about my daydreams and actually used that word and he stopped me- "You actually daydream?" he asked, wide-eyed, looking at me like I was some exotic creature that took his breath away. "Well, of course," I answered, "I like to imagine what my life will be like while I'm awake, not just by chance while I'm asleep." He beamed. "That is so cool," he said. My heart became so very sad for him. You see, he spent time imagining a life with me, but never on what HE wanted for HIS life. And I realized that day that not everyone daydreamed like I did.

My dreams have changed greatly and so have my friendships. I haven't spoken to My BFFHS in over a year because of a falling out we've had. I was terribly heartbroken and still am. I do daydream about making amends. I hope it one day does come true.

I sometimes daydream about what life would have been like for me if I took a chance on the Neighbor. I wonder if anyone will ever be bold enough again to wrap his arms around my waist and ask me to take a chance. In my dreams, my heart says "Yes."

Blizzard

Effing cold. Its effing cold here in New York. I wanted a White Christmas and one snuck in just under the wire that night. And another one is coming. Happy New Year.

It actually IS a happy 2011; many beautiful things are a-brewin' in the Year of Fruition, as my insightful roommate has dubbed it. Our hard work in LA has had a major breakthrough, I actually have had a job I applied for back in November call me, which is extraordinary. Now if I could just get Cool Girl to knock it the fuck off.

So I left you in LA, hanging as it were, with the Little One invading my space. Literally. God provided an intervention in the form of an audition for a Broadway play in New York that I had to pick up and run to. The play is Neil LaBute's FAT PIG and is about a guy who dates a very overweight girl and is madly in love with her but is so embarrassed that he is with her, that he hides her from his work friends, who are horrible, horrible people. The part was for the title character. I hate this play and generally do not enjoy Mr. LaBute's work. To be precise, his plays make me want to write answer plays like rappers did in the 80's; the song may have a good beat to it, but GOD is the message awful. And the thought of being googled for the rest of my life and having "FAT PIG" come up next to my name was not my ego's idea of a good time. But my ego WAS down with the idea of creating a role on Broadway that I could be Tony Nominated for...oooooh.
So I went.

Preparing for the audition ended up bringing me face to face with one of my awful core beliefs; that I was too fat to be truly loved; if someone loved me, it was because I did all I could to get them forget what I looked like. (Ask me if I think this has ever worked, by the way.) I am so self-hating that I actually have a phobia of chubby-chasers. Its true. I am currently undergoing hypnotherapy to deal with this issue- I'd like to lose the weight or accept myself at the weight I am or, best case scenario, both. Right now, its neither and it really can't continue if I expect to be in a healthy, non-Cool-Girl relationship with someone.

Cool Girl was created when I realized that being overweight was the kiss of death when it came to boys, at arooound kindergarden when I was chasing Danny O around the giant cement turtle in the schoolyard. I have since come to know, intellectually, that this is ridiculous but not until Cool Girl made her way into every relationship with a guy I've ever had. And my heart, my poor heart, already believed this to be true. It needs to be bitch-slapped.

I should confess that once I wrote the first sentence of the paragraph above, I was not able to get beyond it for a good nine days. You know when you write something so true about yourself, it stops you cold, the truth ringing in your ears, taking up all your head space? Well, that happened. And I've sat on it for a week and a half.

K- back to FAT PIG and all the unearthing it did to me just auDItioning for the damn thing. I gave the best, TONY award-winning performance I could at that audition, and left floating on cloud nine. Practically buzzing, I wandered along Fifth Ave., checked out the store windows tricked out for Christmas and called the Unicorn. I was going to meet him near his work on the Upper East Side, and by the time I got there I was sweaty & starving. It was a great pub named for some Irish Movie or some movie set in Ireland and had Guinness but NO FOOD. They give you small bags of chips at the bar as a condolence. I'm sure you're predicting this whole scenario- I am about to get wasted on one drink with the Unicorn. Key-Righst.

He's lovely, as usual. I wanna fall into his face. I wanna take his huge hand in mine and kiss every knuckle, I wanna tug on the thick hair on his head as I attack his mouth. This is probably TMI...but what I ACTually do is talk about how hungry I am and how I walked all over beejesus in the cold to get to him. Thanks, Cool Girl, thanks. We fall into comfortable conversation right away; he's always very generous with is inquiry about my life which must seem Looney Tunes to him and after a hefty dose of what my world's been like and how his work's been I ask: "So, how's your personal life?" Cool Girl wanted to torture me with details of the girl he's skipped over the Disney Stage with- wait.

I did not explain this my Instinct entry. Cool Girl thought it was a good idea back in October to ask The Unicorn about this girl he was dating who would be okay with him going to an extra-special-fancy meal with me. He said they were only seeing each other for three weeks or so (3 weeks! So CLOSE!) and I said, "Oh, so you're in the Disney Stage, huh?" He had no idea what I meant so I explained, "You know, the first three months of going out with someone is the Disney Stage- all flowers and butterflies and songs..." He kinda huffed and said quietly, "Well, I think we may have skipped over that part." I squinched up my face into the phone. I couldn't tell if this meant they have gotten serious quickly or that she...sucked. So after a beat, I made a joke,"What, are you already holding her hair back while she pukes into a toilet, or what?!" And thank God, he cracked up laughing and we went on a tangent about thaaaat...

Back to December..."personal life?" and he scratched his beard which looked about a month old and he said "Oh, well, I actually am not seeing that girl anymore. It ended kinda badly." "Hence, the beard?" He sideway'd smiled at me. *melting* Went through the whole story. Basically, she DOES suck.
So now I have emotionally raw Unicorn completely unattached at this cozy bar with me and I am drinking on an empty stomach and we start to talk about the play I came in to audition for. Now, what I love about his non-theatre-boy ass is that he asks questions about the play and what it's trying to say to the world and not whether I think I booked the gig or not. *gagging sound* After going through the play and its premise and how I feel about it and how I feel about mySELF doing the work that is required for the part, he asks with such beautiful sincerity, "So, how would you feel about having to perform that play every night? Wouldn't that affect you?" My eyes went wide. "Just preparing for this audition has affected me!" and, gagging Cool Girl and throwing her in a closet, I actually tell the truth about my weight and hypnotherapy and dating and all of it. And instead of feeling small and weak I feel relieved and strong, taller even.

Our time is way too short and I have to go actually eat something with Stand-Up Yogi and a couple of her clients on the West Side, so we grab a cab together. Walking has made me realize how drunk I am. I think he is too. But instead of acting all quiet like usual, I push through and start acting reedickulous and we're laughing and he's making really baaad sexual innuendos and I feel like I'm in 6th grade but happy. We stop outside of his place, which I have never done and before he gets out, I say "Uh-oh. Now I know where you live. Now I can stalk you sooo easily. Watch out." He giggled nervously, bent down, kissed me on the cheek and said, "Okay I'll watch my back. Have a safe trip back."

And that's it. Blueballed. Ugh.

Well, its really not it bc I think I may have drunk-texteded him something about Ducky riding by Andie's house on a bike over and over in Pretty In Pink. Bad Business.

The first order of business when I returned to LA? Telling the Little One he no longer could sleep in my bed. He had to sleep on our couch.

I think this Hypnotherapy shit is working.