Week Something:  100 dates, or bust!

I'm back, everyone!!!!  And better than ever?  Not sure.  Truthfully, I'm not doing so hot.  I got laid off a few months ago, and have been vacillating between wallowing and panicking, too busy worrying about all that to concentrate on Admentures.  I keep thinking "my job is my life, what am I supposed to talk to strange new manboys about? How can I put myself out there when myself feels like total shit?"  But just as my vow to have Admentures was a way to "fake it til I make it," an attempt to get over my ex while forcing myself to move on, so is my latest challenge. Time to fake it again and fake it some more.

At a remarkably overpriced bar stool brunch this morning over bangers and clamato-based Bloody Marys, a fabulous friend made the suggestion that I go on 100 dates, and write about them here.  Perfect!  I thought. I have a good friend who did this years ago, and had great success. Well, the dating part didn't prove to be that fruitful, actually, but she emerged from that experience more confident and less worried about dating.  And she just got engaged!  The guy proposed at the top of the Eiffel Tower!  Again, he wasn't one of the 100 dates, but still...

So that's what I'm doing.  100 dates. No pressure, no thinking each guy is my soul mate, no getting down about the process and the length of time that it takes to meet someone, or the shit you have to wade through, or the frogs you have to kiss.  Just dating.  Sitting down for coffee or whatever and talking about stuff and clicking or not, and moving on.  And I have all of this time now, with that pesky job out of the way! 

I can do this.  And write about each one.  I'll keep ya posted.

XOXO,
Your ever-loving Joan

Week something:  The Rules, Booze, and Man Boys


I'm back!  And I wish I could say "better than ever," but things have been kind of rough around here.  I got laid off from my job at the museum, and ever since then I have been too obsessed with finding a new job and hating myself to concentrate on boys.  Despite this dating drought in real life, though, I have continued to intellectually ponder ideas about dating through the safety of my own Kindle Fire while simultaneously watching boys on the bus.  I'm talking about reading "The Rules" and "The Rules of Online Dating."  


These books have a bad rap in the feminism world because they encourage women, who, thanks to "Women's Lib" as my grandmother calls it, have been taught to take charge and be aggressive.  This attitude has helped women excel in the work world, The Rules contend, but ain't gone get you nowhere in the dating world.  Men like a chase, and "The Rules" lay out a play-by-play manual for how to snag Mr. Right.  Here are a sampling of some of the juiciest and contentious Rules:


1. Be a "Creature Unlike Any Other."


2. Never ask a guy out.


3. Never call a guy in the first few months of dating.


4. Don't have sex on dates one, two, or three.


5. "Disappear" in between dates.


6. Wait 24 hours before answering his email (Rules for Online Dating).


7. Don't accept a date for Saturday after Tuesday.


8. Never ask a man to dance.




What do you think about these?  When I first read them, The Rules sounded ridiculous and "50's" (the first edition was published in the 90's, btw). But after spending some time pondering them and also breaking every single Rule recently, I have to admit that they have begun to sink in a bit and I am inclined to think that they may have some merit.  The first, "Be a Creature Unlike Any Other", at first sounds asinine and pathetic, but I think there is actually something to it.  A CUAO is elusive and aloof, and somewhat blue-ball inducing as she dangles men in front of her, unwilling to give them what they want right away.  That smacks of a game, and doesn't sit well with some of us.  But, for me, the thing that's so cool about a CUAO, according to The Rules definition, is that she has this current of contentment that runs through all that she does, and is bathed in the overall sense that everything will work out as it should if she just hangs in there a bit longer.  It's about faith, man. CUAOs are confident, they know who they are and what they want and like, and they approach dating like a trip Yogurtland.   "Let's see, will I have the peanut butter swirl, or the boysenberry crunch today?" They don't sit around waiting for men to call, and they don't spend time worrying if men are into them.  Instead, a CUAO thinks "What do I want?"


As for the others, I am still testing them out, or as I said, systematically breaking every single one.  Recently, I have engaged in a great experiment for how not to snag Mr. Right by not following "The Rules" at all.  I met Cute Coffee Shop Boy during Sojourner Ruth's birthday party at his coffee shop, and instantly found him to be everything that I like:  super cute, weird, and "artsy."  I went right up to him, stuck my hand out and said "I want to meet you," thereby asserting myself in a completely anti-Rules way (Don't approach guys).  After getting good and liquored up at the party, I immediately brought him home which was very un-Rulesy (Don't have sex on dates, one, two, and three). And I know what you are probably thinking.  Obviously this isn't "Mr. Right," or even vaguely a romantic prospect, as I obviously put it in the "casual fuck" column immediately.  But, much to my dismay, I found myself thinking about him, finding his facebook persona charming, and wondering if he could be more than a one-nighter.  I got my chance on his birthday last week, when I showed up at his party, got wasted, and dragged him home after a sloppy late night salsa dance party (Never ask a man to dance).  Oops, I did it again.  And afterwards, in a fashion that was all-too like my ex-boyfriend, he left.  Sure, it was 2:00 in the morning and he had to open the coffee shop at 6:00, but HE LEFT.  And left me wondering "what if?" Even though this behavior was decidedly un-boyfriendly, my warped mind wondered, could he be boyfriend material?  I think I've received my answer in the week that's followed, as he has not called, texted, tweeted, or paged me since our last "meeting." But still....


The weird thing is, even though we have been nothing but occasional drunken casual sex partners, I do find myself wanting to date him, so what do I do?  The Rules would say NO CONTACT.  So I've been trying that.  No calls or texts, and I've even taken him out of my phone.  OK, I did "like" one of his facebook statuses in a moment of weakness, but all in all, I've been pretty good.  I think that there may be some possibility that, if I reach out, he would definitely respond, but the fact is that I just don't feel like it.  I kinda want to be chased.  But is all of this out of the question since I totally busted The Rules?  I guess what I'm getting at, is clearly I am interested in the prospect of a relationship with him.  Isn't that what we all want? Someone to share our heart, soul, and body (ew, sorry) with?  Sojourner Ruth laid down some tough truths for me.  She aptly observed that this guy is clearly not interested in a relationship, as he would have called if he was.  So, in her view, my choices are to: give it up and move on, or pursue him "just for fun."  I have to admit, that latter prospect is pretty intriguing.  I would give up the fantasy of him altogether as anything, except did I mention that he is REALLY cute? Also, I haven't had a boyfriend in nine months.  An entire BABY could have been conceived and born since then.  And let's face it, the men aren't necessarily lining up at my door, clamoring for my attention these days.  It would be nice to have a bed friend and someone to go to Reggae Night at the Hollywood Bowl with.  So I am wrestling with that.


Perhaps at the heart of it all are a few deeper issues, though.  Aside from being "really cute" and "weird," two essential sexy traits in my book, CSB is actually a CS Man, at forty years old. You'll remember that my last boyfriend was 50, and a teen fiction writer. The only other guy I ever felt a real connection with before him lived with his mom, had a vintage toy collection, and recorded original songs on his computer out of his bedroom.  CSB is a coffee shop owner/artist with an alien obsession . Through all of this, I am starting to realize: I LOVE MAN BOYS!


What is so tantalizing about them?  Is it that they refuse to commit, and I too, have a fear of commitment, deep down?  Is it their inability to be intimate that attracts me who is not always the best at expressing my feelings and needs?  Is it the way that they tend to approach life with all of the joy, curiosity, and playfulness of children that makes me want them so badly?  Is it the fact that I never had a boyfriend in middle school and high school, and thus crave the innocence of young love? Is it Daddy Issues?  Whatever it is, it's something that I am definitely recognizing more and more, and may need to address within myself.  I love this breed of man/boy, and this is the type of guy that never wants to invest in a meaningful relationship. So whenever I find myself involved with one, I end up spinning some fantasy that we are in something that we're not, and I am the one is devastated in the end.  He just dusts himself off and finds another girl to teeter-totter with.  So should I pursue CSB?  What do you think, Dear Readers?


The other thing that is going on, is I am starting to examine the relationship that booze plays in all of this.  When I get around a cute boy and a lot of liquor, I am powerless to stop drinking, and relinquish control over any and all of my limbs. Maybe this is my insecurity coming out, and my sense that I can't be funny or cute or sexy without taking away my nervousness through booze, but I am seeing lately a pattern between getting wasted and hooking up, which truthfully, has been there for a really long time.  So I'm investigating all of that.  Possibly more on that soon.


Thanks for reading, and for coming along for this thrill-ride that is My Year of Admenture!


Humbly and Emphatically Yours with 100% Commitment,


Joan

Week Four:  Book Review: He’s Just Not That Into You:  The No Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys

What do you think of this book?  I just re-read it, and am so glad I did.  It’s not for everyone, and many think it's sexist and superficial, but I have to admit that I found it, along with its companion It’s Called a Break-up Because it’s Broken to be must-reads. If you’re like me, you’re prone to fantasy and imagination and need a voice of reason like this guy Greg Behrendt or your very own Sojourner Ruth to occasionally screw your head on straight.  I'm prone to overthinking.  That includes my own behaviors as well as the object of my affection’s.  I’m just as likely to obsess over saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way as I am to wondering why he acted the way he did.  And I’m usually attracted to “complicated” men.  These are guys that seem exciting, interesting, brooding, bad boyish, alcoholic or all of the above.  Like my college obsession, the largely mute alcoholic line cook with an eye patch and arms covered in tattoos. Swoon.  My propensities mixed with those of my “type” usually make for these murky grey situations that are on the surface comfortably ambiguous and seem initially exciting and offbeat, but become wildly unsettling then devastatingly painful.

I don’t like that this book claims to “understand” guys or that it occasionally makes girls look pathetic.  But I found it holistically very useful and downright eye opening.  It’s simple.  If a guy doesn’t call, if he doesn’t ask you questions, if he doesn’t show interest in you or in moving your relationship forward, he’s not that into you.  Many people get these basic clues, but remember I’d rather imagine him into liking me rather than facing the facts. What if his dark past has made him afraid of love? What if he was orphaned as a child and has difficulty with intimacy?  What if he’s just getting out of a relationship?  My favorite thing about this book is that the authors actually give these hypotheses momentary credence.  There ARE people who have had difficult childhoods, and those who just got out of relationships and aren’t ready yet.  There ARE people who have fears of intimacy.  But do I want to be with any of them?  If I managed to win the heart of any one of those wishy-washy men, would those relationships be satisfying? Would I feel loved the way that I need and deserve to be loved?  Probably not.   In my old age, I’m happy to report that I’m starting to develop an appetite for a guy who's crazy about me, not just crazy.  

So I liked it.  But what did you think?  This is sure to be a heated, controversial debate!

XOXOX,

Joan

Week Three:  Attitude Adjustment or Be Nice to Guys!

“You fucking ASSHOLE!”  I screamed.  I thought it would be funny.  Tim is a hot substitute teacher for my improv class.   He’s passionate, energetic and quirky with his massive fro and 70’s mustache.   I figured he’d obviously get that I was just being a kooky character when I yelled at him upon his too late arrival at the theater that Friday night, just missing my class’s big show.  And I guess maybe I wished he had been there, so I was a little irked, but mostly I yelled because I have a crush on him.  Yep.  I’m  stuck in 1^st grade when it comes to mating rituals. And even though Tim can be goofy and a little childish on stage, he did not seem to get the joke.  He turned vampire white and just started stammering, not knowing how to reply.  I felt dumb, and ran away.  If we had a friendly, occasionally vaguely flirtatious thing going before, he now pretty much ignores me, or hesitantly waves from a very safe distance.  I guess I blew that one. Maybe I should have pushed him into a snow bank and kicked him in the balls, like I did to Jordan, my sixth grade crush?

I’ve been thinking about the Timcident a lot, and it's making me realize that I need an attitude adjustment when it comes to my perception of and interactions with men.  This reminds me of an anecdote from work, which I’ll happily regale you with.   I work in an art museum, and a major part of my job is chatting with school groups about large-scale ancient sculptures of completely naked men.  A daily occurrence goes like this:  I bring a group of 5^th graders into a room dedicated to an ancient sculpture of Hercules, a seven foot tall marble masterwork of the intricately muscled superhero, complete with lion skin and of course standing entirely naked, in all his glory.  At the sight of the ancient world’s most revered hero and despite the contemplative temple structure in which he is housed, the kids invariably burst into hysterics, and might even say something like “Is this safe to show kids?????”  When this happens, I usually stand there until they remember that they're supposed to be involved in some sort of semi-formal lesson, and they largely stop giggling and look at me uncomfortably.  I ask them why they are laughing, tell them it’s perfectly understandable, and even give them 15 more seconds to officially get out all of their giggles.  At the end of 15 seconds, though, I tell them that they will be moving on and taking this as a learning opportunity, so every time they see a sculpture whose nudity freaks them out, instead of loosing it, they will take a moment, put their pointer fingers to their chins and say “Huh. Interesting.”  I tell them that this moment, though tough, is an excellent opportunity to change their attitudes and to learn something about the ancient people.  Dammit.

Timcident aside, there have been enough situations recently where I have been standoffish or even outwardly mean or confrontational with men for me to recognize that I need to change my attitude.  But before I do that,  I get my 15 seconds.  Or to “stroke” my feelings, as Sojourner Ruth and I like to say.  Let me be honest, when it comes to men, I generally, though not always consciously, consider them to be dicks until proven otherwise.  In case it isn't clear, I got wounds, man.  And they were inflicted at a young age.  Growing up, I was ridiculed by boys for being “ugly” and “weird.” In 6th grade, Josh Stevenson told everyone that he had a dog on his street with the same name as me, so all the boys in school barked at me whenever I walked by.  To this day, I still flinch when someone fake-barks (there are some situations that call for that), and still go around feeling like an ugly weirdo.  What a little prick Josh Stevenson was! But guess what? Josh grew up to be a MINISTER, and is now married to one of our high school classmates, with a beautiful little boy. It seems that he grew into a pretty nice guy.  Huh.  Interesting.

As a kid, I hardened my heart to boys as a defense mechanism, and even though I know intuitively that I don’t have to live that way anymore, there is still some residual hurt.  But despite that hurt, I love guys, and I want to find one that I can build a life with.  So how do I change my attitude? How do I convince adult me that men aren’t going to bark at me, and could maybe even be caring and loving and accepting of who I am? I’m not entirely sure, but as part of my Admenture, I vow to try, one MANteraction at a time. To start, I’m going to give guys a chance.  If I get a message from someone on OKcupid, like I did today, and his message is reasonable but his pics aren’t perfect, maybe I decide to give him a chance.  That might not mean go on a date with him, but I can at least message him back before writing him off altogether.   I will try my damndest to be nice to guys.  Swallowing that sarcastic comment that might be incredibly hilarious but not necessarily nice or maybe even down right nasty will get me closer to my goal of connecting with someone. Sacrcasm, as someone recently reminded me, means to tear flesh. And I want to get closer, so RIP sarcasm.  I will give guys the benefit of the doubt, have confidence in myself and my own potential to be attractive to someone.  When I catch a guy looking at me, I get self-conscious and defensive, assuming I have a stain on my shirt or something, when it’s entirely likely that he could be (respectfully) staring at my tits. I will remember this.  I will smile at guys.  Not necessarily in New York City, because my mom always told me that isn’t safe, but everywhere else. There will probably be some other things, too, and I welcome your suggestions, but for now I am simply declaring that I need to open my heart and break down some walls if I’m gonna meet someone great, and it starts here and now, with a change in attitude. 

In closing, a Passover lesson:

“Scrub away negativity. Let your soul shine. Scrub away the suggestive powers of society. Let your soul shine. Scrub away the barriers between your brothers and sisters. Let your soul shine. Scrub away your silly insecurities. Let your soul shine. Scrub away your ego. Let your soul shine…Scrub away all the layers. Reveal the light, the shine. Reveal your mission. Reveal your powers. Reveal the meaning. Reveal the light inherit in the dark.”

Yours,

Joan

P.S.  Keep the goals and suggestions coming, everyone!  This week I had two challenges posed to me:

1                    Email 2-3 men per day from either OK Cupid or Match.com

2            Purchase two tickets and find a date for the upcoming Best Coast concert which I'll be attending with two other two-somes.

Week Two:  Our Hero Goes Speed Dating

“Squeeze!! SqqquuEEEze!!  Squeeze like you’re holding someone you really freakin’ love!” As I silently burst into tears in the middle of Richard Simmons’ Wednesday night Sweat! aerobics class, I wondered if I was the only one.  Did anyone else get a picture of someone they really want to hold, but can’t, and feel a wave of sadness and longing as we dutifully counted reps along with Richard?

That brief silent emotional outburst happened, and I felt a little sorry for myself, but I’m not going to dwell on that here.  Partly because Sojourner Ruth told me I’m not allowed to mention He Who Must Not be Named anymore, and partly because this year of Admenture and this blog is about me moving forward in my quest for love in Los Angeles. And with that, I’m happy to report that Week One featured an Admenturous thing I have always been curious about:  Speed dating. 

I love the idea of speed dating!  It removes half of the things about dating that I’m dreading the most as I embark on this quest. In the last few months, before I became Admenturous, I only went on two dates with people I met online, but my biggest fear came true on each of those dates, so I am taking that as evidence that it’s fair to be worried.  The thing I’m referring to is that sinking feeling after meeting someone and realizing that I am either not physically attracted to the person or have nothing to say to that person.  That sigh “back to the drawing board” feeling. I don’t have a penis, but I imagine that this feeling might be akin to losing an erection? Probably?  The feeling of excitement and promise followed by immediate defeat.  Anyway, speed dating is great because if you are forced into conversation with a guy and either of those things happens, you get to stop talking to him in 5 minutes. And then it’s on to the next one. The other thing I think is so hard about dating and dealing with the opposite sex in general, is not knowing if the other person is into you, or to what degree, and how to proceed accordingly.  Most speed dating places have you fill out a worksheet with the names of all of the men you met, and you circle YES or NO.  The men do the same, and the following day, the place emails you and they tell you if anyone of the guys you circled circled you back.  So you don’t have to lose any sleep wondering whether or not he likes you.  Not that I would engage in anything that pathetic or trite, but one theoretically might.  So anyway, I was excited.

The event was held at a small lounge on Main Street Santa Monica that no one has ever seen or heard of.  One of the first ones to show up to the low-lit cave, I was greeted by a sassy black lady who took my information and hurried me along with a “Go head, sexy girl.” And “Go talk to Matt, he’s CUTE and sitting by the bar.” As she said this, I felt a sudden flutter of excitement.  Could it be possible that Matt really IS cute?  I wondered.  Could it be that a guy I’d be attracted to might randomly find himself at a Speed Dating event, maybe by accident, but decided to try it, because he is open minded and adventurous like me, but he doesn’t actually expect to meet anyone, he’s just doing it for a gag, or maybe a performance art piece? Is my edgy, funny, cynical but not a downer, self-aware neo hipster here because he is interested in finding love on some level, but is really just intrigued by an opportunity to watch our species at play? Maybe he’s speed dating as a sort of journalistic endeavor like me? And we’ll meet and have a drink and a laugh, I’ll playfully touch his arm and we’ll each discover that we’re soul mates? Let’s get out of here, Matt, and go to O’Briens, it’s more our style. Or maybe your place?  No, no, let’s take it slow.  This could really be something.  In those few seconds, in my imagination, Matt became totally hot and wildly promising.

And then I went to the bar to actually meet Matt in real life and he was…weird.  And sort of…pointy. I took a breath and flopped onto a nearby stool as he eagerly introduced himself and promptly asked “Do you speak Italiano?” I replied “No,” and he began to regale me with his Italian, before going on to wonder out loud why it is that people won’t give him the time of day when he’s wearing athletic gear, but they usually want to chat after he’s showered and put on normal clothes. Huh.  This was going to be a great night.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t necessarily expected to find my dream man that night. In fact, I expected that most of the guys would most likely be oddballs.  But remember, the inevitable awkwardness was going to be quelled by the speed.  If I was stuck with a weirdo, it would only have to be for a few minutes, and I could handle that.  But it didn’t exactly turn out that way.  The event, as it turns out was not only a speed-dating event, but also a magazine release as well as someone’s birthday party. This meant that, In short, the Emcees were too busy vacillating between the different matters at hand that they periodically completely forgot to yell “Change!” So that lovely ingredient in speed dating that makes it so doable, the speed, was entirely eliminated, and I was stuck having excruciatingly long, not to mention odd, slightly creepy conversations with not only the occasionally rotating men, but also the large, 44 year-old black woman with the red patent leather peep toe heals who sipped cider and languidly lounged next to me.  Kim, who learned about the event through her Jenny Craig coach, was actually really nice, but I didn’t go to this thing to meet chicks! The event was so disorganized, that the company over-booked women and under-booked men, which left the ratio at about 40:6.  So I had to sit next to Kim on the small leather lounge couch while the paltry number of suitors came to interview us both at the same time. And they stayed FOREVER.  To facilitate conversation, the organizers left cards on each table, with questions like “What would you do if your partner had a homosexual affair, but vowed that it would only happen once?” Or “Is it OK for your partner to take out a Life Insurance policy without telling you?” This decision to have conversation starters was not entirely bad, but they didn’t exactly spark the kinds of conversations I would have chosen to have on my own. What’s a Life Insurance policy?

The Men aside from Matt, who seemed age appropriate, all appeared to be over the age of 40, and largely decided not to use their real names but instead to go by funny, provocative ones like “Super Freak” and “Prince Charming.”  The former lived up to his name and the latter did not.  And remember, the Emcees did not have their shit together.  After getting a copy of the magazine that PC was inexplicably featured in pushed on me and sitting through what felt like a thousand year conversation with Super Freak, wherein he explained his feeling that women were put on this earth to please men, I had had enough.  I actually had to leave my seat and beg the Emcees to yell “Change,” twice, which is maybe sort of mean, but this was supposed to be SPEED DATING, and they weren’t holding up their end of the bargain!  Needless to say, I did not find love that night.  Not with Matt, or Super Freak, or the cross-eyed shorty with no job, or even the Aussie who came to LA to work on a video game that was going to change the world. Not with the guy who SKIPPED US (whatever) or even Henry, who was actually the nicest but about 60, and even though I’ve dated a Silver Fox and my best friend half jokingly encouraged me to “go even older next time,” I think I’d like to find someone closer to my own age.  Sorry, Henry. Best of luck to ya.  You should call Kim, there seemed to be a spark there.

I circled “NO” for every one of the speed dating guys, but I did find both of the bartenders to be super hot, so before handing in my paper to the Emcees at the end of the night, I wrote BARTENDERS in big letters at the bottom of the page and made emphatic circles around the word YES.   Neither has called yet, but it’s OK.

At his famously sweaty aerobics class, Richard Simmons told us to take care of our bodies, because we have only one.  It’s a reminder that we only have one life, and this simple fact leaves me with no other choice but to be as fearless as possible as I pursue great things.  Despite this epic speed dating fail, I trudge onward with positivity and Admenturousness. I’d even try speed dating again. And I’d be especially into it if they actually remember to include the speed part next time.  

Yours truly,

Joan

*Does anyone have ay ideas for Admenturous things I should do?  This week I got two great suggestions for dude-filled, love possible events:

http://www.pheromoneparties.com/

https://yurisnightla.eventbrite.com/

Let me know, I’d love to hear your ideas, dear readers!

5 months and 29 days ago, I got dumped.  It sucked.  I wasn't completely blindsided, that is to say I knew there were problems, but I guess I figured that my beloved and I would continue on in our half-happy state until something catastrophic blew us apart, much like my parents have been doing for the past 29 years. So even though I spent many nights crying myself to sleep over this man and feeling underloved while we were together, there were plenty of good moments too.  He could be sweet and fairly affectionate.  He was 23 years my senior and a total silver fox, was funny and quirky and liked renting weird movies from the library and watching them in his cute Venice apartment.  He was a Teen Fiction writer, so we were always talking about story ideas and dreaming up characters for future books. We went to art openings, concerts, and readings, and hung out with his interesting, intelligent, successful friends who were thriving in creative fields.  I didn't know where we were going and sometimes felt insecure in our relationship (hence night crying), but I always felt completely warm and safe in his arms, and that seemed like enough.

I was devastated when he told me he "couldn't move forward" and broke up with me.  No kidding, I wanted to say. After a year and a half of dating, you never talked about moving in together or even so much as going on a vacation.  You even flinched when I suggested we "be in New York at the same time some time" and never wanted to meet my parents.  These should have been red flags for me.  But the fact was, I was so happy to not only be with someone, but to be with someone whom I felt like actually "got me."  I go through life feeling like a total weirdo most of the time, and it was great to meet someone who seemed charmed by my weirdness and even to love it.  Although he never said those magical words. Another red flag ignored.  But still all of these bad signs were outweighed by the fact that I had made what felt like a truly meaningful connection, I finally had someone with whom I could explore Los Angeles, where I had just moved a few months ago, and where I was currently being consumed by loneliness.  I finally had someone to go to things with, and someone to sleep with.  Although the Teen Fiction Writer never slept over.  Obvs.  He liked to sleep with the radio on, dialed to some crazy channel that pondered the existence of aliens and supernatural beings, and I liked it quiet. I like being toasty warm under the covers at night, and he always like to be "sort've cold." Who likes to be cold in bed? Anyway...

There were tons of problems, sure. But this man meant more to me than any other semblances of romantic connections in the past, and getting over him has been tough. I've been doing all the right things:  Cultivating friendships, exercising, getting hobbies.  But despite my progress, I am still prone to bothering my friends with and mulling obsessively over the "What ifs" and "Why did hes," and the "What is he thinkings." But today is the last day for all of that. At the advice of a friend, I have been celibate and date-free for almost 6 months (well, not technically, but the two weird OK Cupid coffee dates don't really count).  While I am not completely over Teen Fiction Writer, it's time.  He's not coming back, and I'm sure (pretty sure) I wouldn't take him back if he knocked down my door with a dozen roses in his hand and a mariachi band playing in the background.  Because I'm starting to realize that I deserve better than the scraps he was giving me. So tomorrow, on the 6th month anniversary of our split, I will embark on MY YEAR OF ADMENTURE.

The concept was inspired by a friend of mine, whom you'll meet, Sojourner Ruth.  She went speed dating one night and met a bevy of ineligible, yet notably quirky men.  One of them was Chris, who announced proudly that he was at the beginning of a Year of Adventure.  Throughout this year, he would be doing things that always scared or challenged him, like sky diving, speed dating, and going on long car rides to far off places. My friend didn't like Chris, but she liked the concept.  I did too, and always a fan of word play, I started to wonder, what would a year of ADMENTURE look like? It would be easy to think of it as a year of whoring around.  It might even be tempting, at this point.  But as my 30th year on earth looms ever nearer, the prospect of just sleeping with a bunch of guys to prove a point or fill some hole inside (ha) seems played out. Instead, maybe a year of AdMENture means being fearless when it comes to men and dating.  It means exploring avenues that I haven't explored before, and is characterized by a general feeling of openness and possibility. Maybe it means dating a Republican...OK maybe not that, but maybe another "type" of guy that I thought I'd never date. It means speed dating, internet dating.  Reading cheesy dating books, and testing their theories.  It means entering the dating world, body, mind, and soul, and not letting stupid insecurities, fears, or leftover feelings for TFW hold me back from experiencing someone new and perhaps better for me.

This will be a blog about my dating experiences, but will also be about the AdMENture lifestyle, because the only way to do this, in my mind is to really DO THIS, or else it wouldn't be an adventure, would it?  It would just be a Year of Occasionally Dating, and Joan of Arc didn't get to be a heroine for the ages by half-assing uprisings.  So as I write this blog about my experiences with dating men I meet online and in the world of Los Angeles, I will also post recipes, book reviews, videos, ass-kicking workouts, and other fun things along the way that will fuel me (and you!) along this epic journey.

There will be guest columnists.  Expect to hear "The Truth from Sojourner Ruth," a good friend who tells it like it is. And many more...

So as I let Teen Fiction Writer go in a big way today, my heart is still somewhat heavy and I'm filled with bittersweet memories. But I also have to admit that I'm pretty pumped to surrender to the AdMENture ahead.  Who is out there? While part of me is scared that I will never meet that person who "gets" me and also happens to be smart and talented but not conceited, funny and sarcastic but not mean, fun and social but up for a good snuggle, the Year of AdMENture is not about fear!! And to kick it off with a bang, I'll be spending tomorrow evening with a gaggle of supportive women and the hottest silver fox of them all, Richard Simmons!

Yours,
Joan of Heart