When His Hermes Handbag Trumps My Louis Vuitton... We Have a Problem

I spotted him as soon as I got in the airport security line. He was tall, thin (but not too thin… fit), with dark hair and good skin. He was impeccably dressed, from the Ferragamo shoes to the Versace eyeglasses. His suit was expensive, but not so expensive that he appeared to be trying too hard. I noticed his amazing Hermes leather satchel and turned to him. “Great bag,” I said, nonchalantly. In a voice higher-pitched than Jack from Will & Grace, he squealed, “Oh THANK YOU! So much.” He might as well have added a heel kick and an “OMG!” to the end of that sentence.

I’m surrounded by girly men.

Are straight men ever this stylish? Follow-up question: are said straight stylish men ever low-maintenance? Ahhh, that’s the ticket right there.

I’ve dated this guy before… the questionably straight girly man who dresses better than me, has more hair products than I do, and gets more facials than anyone I know. This man is one in a plentiful breed. Let’s explore the characteristics of this ever-growing population.

They take forever to get ready. They iron every item of clothing, including jeans they are about to wear to the grocery store. Their home is decorated almost as nicely as mine (almost). They don’t know how to fix anything around the house. They cook over-the-top meals that take many hours and about 30 ingredients. They know when my eye shadow is different. They have polished shoes. They have softer hands than I do.

I’m not saying any of these are bad things. It’s the combination of everything that makes it hard to date this guy. I can’t tell you how many times I sat in the living room, ready to go, while Girly Man was putting more stuff in his hair or looking for the right watch to match with his outfit. Now I know how guys feel when the girl isn’t ready when they get there to pick them up. Annoyed.

I love a sharp-dressed man. But is it too much to ask for that sharp dressing to be easy and effortless? And what about a low-key beauty routine? What happened to a man taking a shower, and smelling like soap? A little smell-good cologne isn’t bad, as long as I’m not searching for the gas mask when we get in the car. C’mon guys! Get it together.

I like to be the girl in the relationship, who holds the cards on knowing which night cream is best, and whether to use body scrub once a week or more frequently. It’s just my old fashioned nature I guess. Not a fan of the guy knowing more about this than me.

So are there any men out there who are impeccably dressed AND somewhat mountain man-ish? Is this possible? My experience is from one extreme to the next, so a middle ground sure would be nice. Obviously I am willing to compromise, but after dating Girly Man, I have declared my unwillingness to date a man more girly than myself.



Please follow me on twitter: @danaseals

Over My Dead Iris

It's almost Spring. How do I know this? Not because the temperatures are warmer (we had snow this morning), but because my irises are about to bloom. I have some of the most beautiful heirloom irises in my front yard. A few years ago, I painstakingly extracted them from my sweet neighbor's yard (with permission of course) and planted them. I care for them all year in order to see their beautiful blooms for about 3-4 weeks. That's all I get, but it's worth it.

Speaking of irises, I'll never forget a guy I met last year. While I was pumping gas into my Sexy Dude (that's my car's name), I was watching the storm clouds roll in at an alarming speed. A guy about my age was pumping gas at the pump next to me (we'll call him "Texaco Guy"). Texaco Guy turned to me and asked if I knew where the storm was coming in from. I had just been at home on my lunch break and was watching the news, so I told him that it was headed our way from Stephenville. He then replied, "Oh! I know Stephenville! I used to go to school out there."

Really?

So I told him that I, too, went to school in Stephenville, so we talked about the town for another 4 gallons of gas. He and I were each getting in our cars, and I said "Well, it's starting to sprinkle, so you better get wherever you are headed!" He told me that he only lived a block away so no big deal.

Really?

I thought he was a nice enough guy, so I offered up that I, too, live about a block away, and we marveled at the small world we live in. He waved and drove off and I went on my merry way. Not interested in the guy, but he seemed nice.

Fast forward two weeks. I get home at around 9pm on a Friday night (yes, my life is that exciting) and find a note and flowers on my doorstep. WOW!! What a nice gesture! I wasn't dating anyone at the time, so this was a big surprise. I read the note and it was from Texaco Guy and he was asking me out on a date. Hmmm... interesting. The flowers were just laying there in a pile, which was odd, but they were beautiful. Yellow irises! My favorite! There is no way he could have known that, but the coincidence was nice. There was also a single red tulip in there. Strange. But whatever.

Wait, how does he know what house I live in? I was vague at the gas station, right?!

I promptly set my alarm, shut the window shades (just in case he's lurking somewhere) and decided to put my new beautiful flowers in a vase. They are so pretty, and I could not figure out where he found irises. Those are not usually found in flower shops because they die pretty much the same day you cut them. Hmmm...

I admired my flowers for a minute, and remembered that I needed to get my mail out of the mailbox. Once I was out there, something caught my eye. What is different in my front yard? Something... looks... strange... Wait. Where are my beautiful irises? They are all in full bloom right now and I don't see a single bloom.

Then it hit me. Texaco Guy cut all MY irises down and gave them to me! WHAT IN THE WORLD??? I wait ALL YEAR for my irises to bloom and he cut them all down?? And who on my block is missing one red tulip? What the heck?!

If only I knew what house he lived in, I would have gone and dug up all his shrubs and left them on his front doorstep, with a note that said "Thanks, but I'm busy."

The Tricky World of Men

When men make big, bold gestures, they are considered romantic and chivalrous. When women make big, bold gestures, they are considered desperate and psycho. Explain this to me, please.

I'm all for romanticism. I actually live for that kind of stuff. However, why can't women be the ones to do it without looking crazy or clingy or pushy? Oh the mysteries of dating life... I guess if we don't want to appear crazy, then we just have to wait around like the good old days and hope that he calls... and today’s “Guy Code” dictates that 3 days must pass before they call us. Seriously?

It's not that we ladies can't pick up the phone and call or text someone - it's that we might look crazy if we do it! I can't help but wonder "Am I bothering them?!" So do they wonder the same thing when they are thinking about us and wanting to send us a little text??

It’s a risk. Not the kind of risk where you'll find yourself in some guy's basement being ordered to put the lotion on the skin or you'll get the hose again. But it’s a risk to our pride, and to our hearts. We don’t want to look bad and we don’t want to potentially lose a great guy because he thought we were pushy by contacting him first. On the flipside, if a guy is going to run screaming from something like that –do we even want him?

Sometimes I wish I had the deluded self confidence that causes people like Ross Perot to run for President; or people like Lady Gaga to run around in a banana suit. I wouldn't care what they thought. If I wanted to call or text someone, I'd just DO it. Confidence is sexy, and I have tons of confidence (except when it comes to this one issue).

In the words of the brilliant Carrie Bradshaw: "Men are like the New York Times Crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated and you are never really sure you got the right answer." Amen, sister.

Smile! You're on Candid Camera!

You are on Candid Camera!

As a single girl, one of the worst things you can ever hear is a half-trusted friend saying something to the tune of “I have someone you have GOT to meet! He would be perfect for you!!” And when you ask “Oh yeah? What’s he like?” The answer is almost always “He’s… umm… a really nice guy.”

Mmm hmmm. I’m sure he is.

The blind date is a precarious situation. It can be awkward, it can be boring, it can be stunning. It’s a roll of the dice. It’s also somewhat stressful.

Do you allow them to come to your house? And risk the possibility of them becoming some wild-eyed stalker, looking in your windows at night and cutting down your flowers just to give them to you? That last one actually happened to me.

Or do you meet them out somewhere, and throw all gentlemanly, chivalrous behavior out the window?

Oh the decisions!

I’ve been on several blind dates. Half of them have been mediocre and exactly one of them has been downright horrific, forcing me to ask myself if I could possibly be on candid camera.

My first (and worst) brush with blind dating was when I was 17. My hairdresser decided she wanted to set me up with her “19-year-old” nephew. I gave in after months of prodding (and a threat to fry my hair or turn it awful shades of “old lady”). Within days, a guy in his mid-20’s showed up at my house on a school night, with each eye going opposite directions and black curly hair full of SoulGlo straight out of the movie Coming to America. I found myself looking for plastic to put on the back of the couch before he sat down. On the way to Cinema6, he loudly sang along to the trumpet part on a Miles Davis CD (perfectly fine alone, completely awkward when you have a passenger), his choice of movie was The Green Mile, which he had just seen the day before at the theater.

15 minutes into this terribly sad movie, he started crying, when nothing sad was even going on! It began with a single tear down his cheek and ultimately he was wailing. Loudly. For the rest of the movie. He kept putting his arm around me and I was squirming out of it. Then he was going in for the hand-hold and I was able to get out of it each time until he caught me off guard once and grabbed it firmly. He then proceeded to use the back of my hand as a tissue. Gross! I excused myself to go to the bathroom to sanitize my entire body. I then had to return to my seat for the next THREE HOURS with the crying jeri-curled funky-eyed guy. When we finally left that horrible experience of a movie, I felt so sorry for him that I agreed to go to a local restaurant with him.

I was exhausted and he was puffy eyed and embarrassed, so we looked like quite the pair walking into Montana Restaurant. The waitress handed me a Shirley Temple and he handed me a Sony Discman. Remember back in the day when this contraption fit an entire cd? These things weren’t small and where did he possibly have it stowed away on his person? I know he wasn’t carrying it when we came into the restaurant because he kept trying to hold my hand.

And all this time, I thought the date couldn’t get worse. Now I’m supposed to listen to a cd. Not just any cd – one that contains a song that he wrote for me. Considering this is a blind date, I ask how he came about writing a song for me. He said it was based on the emails we sent back and forth. To which I replied, “Oh, the one email where I told you how to get to my house?!”

I’m in the Twilight Zone.

I high-tailed it out of there as quickly as possible and never saw him again. Bless his heart. I sure hope his moves have gotten better, or he has no hope.

The inspiration behind today’s writing is the fact that, I have hope that out there somewhere is a good blind date. I know, it sounds like an oxymoron. But it’s gotta be true.

Till next time!
XOXO

What Dana Wants - A to Z

I typed this list while watching The Bridges of Madison County. I have to be selective and not settle. Because I don't want to end up like Francesca, 80 years old, nursing my dying husband who was just "so-so" for our 50 years of marriage, while my soulmate is off somewhere in the world without me. No thanks.

So, in the spirit of "not settling", here is my A-Z list of qualities a guy must possess to be the future Mr. Dana's Husband.

Anchor – I am a strong woman, but I want (not “I need”) an anchor, just like with ships. I can be eccentric and sometimes I need somebody to bring me back down to Earth. I know I can be the anchor if need be, but isn’t that one of the job descriptions for guys?

Blithe – He needs to be joyous and carefree. Not one of those ultra-serious types who makes me wonder during dinner, “Is he still thinking about work? Or is he thinking he must have been crazy to agree to be my boyfriend? Or do I smell bad? Which one??”

Cavalier – I’m a southern girl. I need a gentleman.

Debonair – A self-assured man is so very incredible. I have dated my fair share of “Sloppy McSloppersons”, therefore I can appreciate a sharp-dressed man.

Exhilarating – I want to be swept off my feet. Over and over again.

Fit – If our bodies are temples, do I really want someone who throws trash into the temple? No thanks.

Green – I hope to have a guy to help me remember to bring my re-usable bags to the grocery store.

Horticultural – True to my old-lady form, I love my garden and I love my plants. I don’t want someone who is jealous of the time I’m spending with my plant friends. How about someone who puts some gloves on and helps?

Impromptu – I would just adore someone who doesn’t live a strictly planned life, and who can wisk me off somewhere with no notice. Even if it is just to the park.

Jocular – Someone who loves to laugh is someone who has my vote. There is no other way to be.

Knowledgeable – He needs to be able to throw trivia at me that is harder than “Guess what the Statue of Liberty is made out of...” And I’d be okay with him beating me at Jeopardy every once in a while. Well... maybe.

Leery – I know this sounds strange, but I need someone who is just as leery as I am. I don’t trust many folks. The last thing I need is our life savings wasted on some shady guy who promises my guy a great return on something like Chrysler stock.

Mature – There is a time and place for everything, but if I have to fight the Xbox for his attention, we have a problem.

Neat – I am a neat freak in most instances, and we’re going to rumble if I have to move his boxer briefs off the couch for a guest to sit down.

Observant – How nice it would be if he could immediately identify a shift in my mood, instead of me being upset and him asking “What’s wrong?” only after days of my brooding and withholding important things from him. (Sidenote: as open as I am, this is unlikely to happen for 3 days… but you get the gist.)

Passionate. ‘Nuff said.

Quiet – I love to talk (probably too much), but I would love to be able to have someone who embodies the song “Easy Silence”, someone who can be silent with me and there is no need to fill every void with talking.

Ready – I’ve never been one who is looking to get hitched immediately. No way. But when I have the guy and I’m ready, the last thing I need to hear is “I think I’ll be ready in about 5 more years.” Ugh.

Serene – Someone without a temper has my vote. My feathers don’t get ruffled and I don’t want someone I have to hold back from punching something or someone.

Thrifty – I am a thrift queen and have been my entire life. I don’t see that changing, so I am going to need someone who doesn’t run up credit card bills on frivolous things like a ton of Xbox games (see Mature).

Understanding – Sometimes I have moments where I feel like the poster child for kookiness. Hence the need for understanding.

Veracious – Webster says this means “speaking the truth.” No question – this is of utmost importance.

Well-rounded – A true renaissance man is the best.

Xenophobic – I would love to have someone who hates foreigners. Just Kidding. That would tick me off in a hurry. (X-words were slim pickin's.)

Yogic – If he can downward dog with me, then I will be thanking my lucky stars.

Zestful – Everyone loves a little spice.

The 5 S's

After reading a book on the subject, I firmly believe in the 5 requirements a man must meet for me to consider dating him. Ladies and Gentlemen: the 5 S’s.

Single, Sexy, Successful, Saved, Sane

These are all good, and I have adopted them as my mantra. Here are my thoughts on the subject.

Single is always a plus. Who needs the stress of dating a married man, always looking over your shoulder, wondering when you are going to have to dodge a bullet from the wife who (with very good reason) will try to find a covert way to commit attempted (or not) murder. Besides, it’s so wrong. Boo to all the ladies out there who are doing this very thing. Quit it now, girlfriends.

Sexy… well yes. Not to sound like looks are so important (because they are not), I have to have no hesitation to want to … what’s the word for making out in the Harry Potter books? Ahh yes, I have to have every desire to snog, anytime/anyplace (thanks Laura). Which means that attraction is key. I can’t date someone I can never imagine kissing. Who can?

Successful is so important. I am driven and I am going to make something of myself, and I look forward to the day where I have an equal in that department. I am very competitive, so how cool would that be to have a partner that is in constant competition with me to do bigger, greater things in this world? Unstoppable.

Saved is crucial. I am a Christian and I need someone who shares my beliefs. I want there to be no question where we are going to be on Sunday mornings. And someone who doesn’t let me get lazy and stay home when I’m tired.

I can’t even tell you how many crazies I have come across in my dating adventures, so Sane is an unquestionable must. No further explanation necessary

The way I look at it, why stop at S?

Tune in tomorrow for Dana’s 26 Musts to Look For in a Guy (A to Z).

Just Not That Into ME?!

Last night I was sitting in my "outdoor living room", which is a sofa and a chimnea fireplace on my deck. I had a fire going, a glass of wine and some Cat Stevens on the iPod. VERY romantic setting. However, I was alone! Now, before you go feeling sorry for me, allow me to explain.

It's not that I choose to be alone, that I run people off in an effort to explore my identity. No, I'd much rather have had someone on that sofa with me last night. However, being alone last night allowed me to ponder some of the past fellas who I have encountered and I got to thinking about why they ended up "not that into me."

I've read the book (haven't seen the movie yet), but I don't need that blonde guy who wrote the book to tell me when someone just isn't that into to me. I've dated enough to see the signs. Allow me to recap my last few years of strike-outs:

There was Exotic Foreign Guy who hit the door once he found out I have reproductive issues. English translation: He thought he was so amazing that he needed his fantastic genes to continue for centuries. Clearly, he was not that into me and my bum ovaries.

There was Tight Jeans Guy who ran for the hills when he found out that I drink alcohol. Apparently he wasn't on board with my "let the good times roll" attitude.

There was Spoiled Rich Kid Guy who needed a Xanax when he found out that none of his friends had heard of my father and that I (gasp!) work for a living instead of bumming off my trust fund. Just not that into me and my blue collar.

There was Team Roper Cowboy guy who ditched me for a girl who wore a belt buckle bigger than my cat. Evidently he was just not that into me and my reasonably-sized belt buckles.

There was In the Closet Gay Guy who listened to Broadway cd's in his car. Now, I'm not one to judge, but without a doubt he was just not that into me and my lack of male anatomy.

There was Possum Kingdom Lake Guy who didn't like that I am a non-smoker. Obviously he was just not that into me and my healthy pink lungs.

There was Wimpy Accountant Guy who was really bothered by the fact that I carry a gun in my purse, have one in my nightstand and have a taser in my car. I suppose he was just not that into me and my pistol-packing, Annie Oakley style.

There was Bass Player Guy who ran screaming when I played one of my demos for him and he realized that I kicked his butt on the bass. Unmistakably he was just not that into me and my talented self.

There was Perpetual Bachelor Guy who was so commitment-phobic that he broke it off because I was "Too Great." Certainly he was just not that into me and my amazing wife potential.

As you can see, I have endured enough rejection to be compared with being taken to the desert and left for dead. But, I'm keeping my chin up, because this is the way I see it:

Although there may be a long line of guys who just weren't that into me, there is an equally long line of fellas who would totally dig a Reproductively Challenged, Vodka-Drinking, Hard-Working, Non-Western, Non-Masculine, Healthy-Lunged, Gun-Toting, Hard-Rocking, Martha-Stewart Homemaker Girl.

And you know what else? Maybe I just wasn't that into them, either.