Posted by Ilana Angel
What is it with men and babies? A man asked me out last week who is 53 years old, divorced, has 4 kids, and would like to have another one. Really? For the love of God, what is this man thinking? If he had a baby yesterday, he would be 73 years old when the kid graduated high school. I am 47, my only child is 17, and I am done having babies. A baby now would put me over the edge. Don’t misunderstand, I LOVE babies and wish I could have had more, but having a baby when you are middle aged is simply not appealing.
If he didn’t have any kids I might understand, but with 4 children already, ranging in age from 8-27, I just don’t get it. Being a parent is the greatest joy in life, if you want children, but at what point does having a child not make sense anymore? Is he trying to recapture his youth? Reverse the hands of time and be young through his kids? Does he have something to prove? Perhaps he wants to date a younger woman and thought putting it out there that he wants more kids will make him more attractive?
Mother Nature limits the time women can carry a child, but men can have babies forever. Just because you can, does not mean you should. I told the lovely yet delusional man that we were not a match. I did however accept an invitation to drinks from anther man. In all of his online pictures he was wearing sunglasses. Odd to be sure, but I let is pass because he was insanely funny. I actually asked him about the pictures and he laughed it off saying he never even noticed all the pictures were of him in sunglasses.
We met for a drink and he was lovely. Funny, sweet, charming, and sporting a glass eye. He never told me it was a glass eye and I am not an expert on glass eyes, but I am pretty sure it was in fact a glass eye. I found it a little distracting and the truth is that if I had a glass eye I would probably not tell someone I was meeting for a drink. It was just odd. In the end we had different interests and while kind, he was not for me. It is just a shame that in the end I will remember the eye more than the actual date.
Does that make me a bad person? I have horrible eyesight and am not really bothered by a glass eye, but it was strange and I felt bad about it. He had written me the perfect online dating email that was sort and sweet. I am a fan of the basic email approach, not the long drawn out email. I got another email this weekend that was at least one full page. He spoke of his desires and dreams and it was creepy. I don’t want to know your fantasies and desires when I don’t know who you are. Who even thinks that is okay?
I read the entire email only because I was fascinated, not because it was interesting. I wrote him back and said we were not a match, but what I really wanted to tell him is that he is weird and needs to rethink his approach. I am certain it is the same email he sends to everyone, so maybe some chicks like it? I would say that those women are also weird. Online dating is a strange thing. It is an experiment, a job, a punishment, and a pain in the ass. It is also a necessary thing in the times we live in.
I had a lovely couple of dates with the Mechanic and thought that might be something. We met online and he was a breath of fresh air in a cloud of toxic gas. In the end he was not sure he was looking for monogamy. Really? We didn’t sleep together of course, and now there is no shot in hell of that ever happening. I respect his being honest, but he went from delicious to douchebag in one minute. It could be that he knew it was a deal breaker and simply didn’t want to sleep with me, so he used monogamy to get out.
Everyone says that men are simple and if women stop trying to figure them out we would be better off. I happen to think that men may be simple in some ways, but they are also confused, complicated, and frankly stupid. There is no point in trying to figure them out as it will never happen. That said, when I meet a man I don’t need to figure out, he will be the one. Women may like to follow the rules, but men like to play games, and they make up their own rules. The problem is that the rules keep changing.
At the end of the day one must laugh at the whole thing. If you are going to date online and don’t have a sense of humor about it, you don’t stand a shot in hell of ever finding a keeper. There are no guarantees in life or love. Online dating is a crapshoot and so one must be willing to gamble. I’ve never understood craps and maybe that is my problem. I keep rolling the dice with no idea of what is a good roll and what is bad. All I can do is keep trying, keep an open mind, keep laughing, keep focused, and keep the faith.
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service.
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
11.30.13 at 10:42 am | "The only correct actions are those that demand. . .
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (454)
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played. (401)
7.25.11 at 5:38 pm | We need more Jews! (260)
August 8, 2013 | 7:23 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
This afternoon I broke a nail. They were long and I knew it was going to happen, so I immediately called my nail girl and was told she could not see me until tomorrow. The thing with nails is that if one breaks, I take it as a sign I should bite the other ones so they are even. I have a small window of time to get it taken care of it before I ruin the rest, which I always do.
I was in Hollywood, having just been to a meeting, and knowing my girl was not available, I went into a small nail shop and asked if someone could file down my nails and do a polish change. If they are even and nicely painted I will leave them alone. It felt a little bit like I was cheating on my beloved Julie the nail girl, but it needed to be done, and fast, so it was on.
I picked my color, a lovely garnet red, and took a seat. I explained to the young woman that I needed her to file them down to the length of the broken one and paint them. She got to working and I noticed the woman next to me was glancing my way. I smiled and tried to not notice how short her skirt was, or that her eye makeup was heavier than a Kardashian’s.
It was not an outfit I would wear in the afternoon, or ever, but bless her for rocking it. The nail girl asked me if I lived in the neighborhood and I told her it was an emergency visit and I lived in the valley. She told me I needed to come back to see her, and continued with her small talk. She asked what I did, I told her I was a writer, she smiled and congratulated me.
It was the cutest thing. She said congratulations. I laughed a little, turned to the woman next to me, and was immediately asked if I was Ilana Angel. I paused for a quick second not sure what was happening and if I should lie, but then simply said yes. Before I could apologize for not remembering if we had met, she told me she was a fan of my blogs and read daily.
It was very sweet. She was so happy to talk to me that it made me feel humbled and proud. We got to chatting about some of my recent postings, and hearing her take was really interesting. I forget sometimes that people are reading, and to have strangers relate to my life and how I write about it, is fascinating. We began a spirited and hilarious conversation.
Turns out my new friend is very opinionated. We share a lot of the same views, and on the things where we don’t, she was not shy about telling me so. It was then that she told me she was a hooker. We spoke about the blog I wrote on whores and she said she was not offended by the word whore. At the end of the day she was a whore, and that was just a fact.
She went on to tell me that I only ever wrote one thing that bothered her. She may not always agree with me, but one thing pissed her off. I was hanging on every word of this woman. She was smart, articulate, and animated. I found myself laughing and wanting to move closer, just to be near her. I insisted she tell me what I wrote that annoyed her.
In a truly perfect moment she told me she gets pissed off when I call LeAnn Rimes a whore because Rimes gives whores a bad name. Oh. My. God. I’m in Hollywood talking to a real life hooker and she is angry about sharing a title with Rimes? I burst into hysterical laughter. Perfection. Of all the things I write this is the thing to piss her off? I now loved her.
By now she had selected a chocolate color for my nails, thinking the garnet would make me look like a hooker. I LOVE her. As we both got our nails painted the same color, and after I apologized for offending her, we got to talking about her and her work. Important to note I promised not to write anything that she told me, but got permission to say she was a hooker.
Her story was sad but funny. She was beautiful but wounded. I think she is a remarkable woman and at only 26 has lived many lives. She works hard and has a plan for her life. She made me laugh, cry, think, feel, pray, and reflect. It was a remarkable conversation and as I type this, looking down on my chocolate covered nails, I am smiling at the blessing of meeting her.
I stayed with my new friend long after our nails were dry. I offered to pay for her nails, but she would not let me. I offered to give her my phone number so we could perhaps have lunch, and she refused. She told me LeAnn Rimes was garbage and that I was magic. She said my blogs made her laugh and she felt normal relating to someone normal. Normal?
I assured her I was far from normal and she told me it didn't matter if I felt normal, what mattered is that I made her feel normal. Wow. I hugged my new friend and told her she made my day. She hugged me back in a way that mattered. I could feel the hug all the way to my heart. Life is full of surprises and today the surprise was meeting someone very special.
To my new friend, who asked that I refer to her as “Vivian”, as in Pretty Woman, I know you are reading and I want you to know that I think you are fabulous. I will also clarify, when talking about LeAnn Rimes, she is a stupid whore, so as not to offend smart whores. I hope I see you again and you know how to find me. Be strong, be proud, call your mom, and keep the faith.
August 7, 2013 | 6:14 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I like men. I am raising a boy to be a man. A good man. I like men of all shapes and sizes. I have dated men who are short, tall, thin, heavyset, bearded, clean shaven, bald, and with a full head of hair. In terms of how someone looks, I tend to be attracted to bald men with blue eyes, but my heart trumps those things, and in the end I am most attracted to men who are funny, able to communicate, and share my faith.
I have dated hobbits in the past. By hobbit I mean men who are the same height, or shorter, than me. I am just shy of 5’4”. When I date a man my height we look like little people. I tend to wear flat shoes all the time because I am not a fan of being taller than my man. That’s just how I roll. I want to feel like a girl next to my partner and height plays into that. If I am in flats it’s all good, so that is what works for me.
I have dated bears in the past. By bears I mean men who are large framed. There is something quite comforting about dating a larger sized man. It makes me feel like a little peanut next to a bear. When I am dating a bear I tend to wear more dresses and play with my hair. I don’t know why. I somehow feel dainty when next to a bear. I still wear flat shoes because I like the feeling of a big strong man taking care of me.
I have dated giants in the past. By giants I mean men who are over 6”. There is something very sexy about a tall man. When I am dating someone very tall, I break out the highest heals I can manage. I will rock the stilettos for a giant. I stand taller, embrace my femininity, and feel like a lady next to a giant. I somehow feel the need to be taller with a giant. Maybe I don’t want to miss what is happening up there.
Last night I met a giant for a drink. In typical online dating fashion, he lied about his height. This lie was a little different however. He listed his height as 6’2” when he was in fact 6’7”. Now that is a giant. He said that he lies about his height because he finds he is simply too tall for a lot of women. I thought he was 6’2” so I wore heels, but I was still a little person next to him. He is the tallest man I have ever been out with.
At one point I took my shoes off to stand next to him, just to see what it would feel like and let me just say, wow. He was truly a giant and I felt a little intimidated. It felt like he could pick me up and toss me across the room, which I am not ashamed to say was kind of awesome. I’m not sure why I adjust slightly when dating hobbits, bears, or giants, but I always do, and the pattern is the same. It got me thinking about men.
Do men worry about what category women place them in? Does a short man care that he is short? Does a bear worry about his weight? Does a giant wish he didn’t have to stand up when meeting women? Women always worry about their bodies, but do men? We compare ourselves to each other, and even a woman with what one would think is a perfect body, is going to complain about something and wish it were different.
Physical attraction is important. There has got be something about the person you are dating that turns you on sexually, but is the search for that thing going to stop us from meeting the perfect partner? Can Prince Charming or the girl of your dreams be living in the body of a hobbit, giant, or bear? At what point do people let go of looks and forward on who you are? Or is that even possible in the world we live in?
I have loved a hobbit and though he was small, I have never felt safer next to a man. I was married to a giant and years after our divorce I still marvel at how tall he is, and how tiny I feel next to him. I was engaged to a bear and always got a kick out of the fact that I could stand behind him and from the front nobody could see me. There are advantages to dating all three types, dating a giant however, does provide the best shoes.
In the end we all have a certain type of person that we are attracted to, and that maters. I think the key to finding love however, lies in being able to think outside the box, or the body in this case, and open our minds to the possibility that a great love might come in a body that we were not expecting. There are no guarantees in love of course, but we can increase our chances if we open our minds and keep the faith.
August 4, 2013 | 2:07 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I was recently written to by a man who is 38 and thinks I should take a chance and go out with him. At 47, that would make me a cougar. I don’t date men who are younger than me, and I think the biggest age difference I’ve ever had in terms of a younger man was less than 3 years. I am just not into younger men because at this age it can be a little complicated.
If a younger man has kids, they will probably be young and I am not interested in dating a man with young kids. If they have no kids, they may say they don’t want any, but I’m not sure I believe that. What if I date a younger man, we begin a relationship, then he decides he wants kids? I don’t want to have more kids, plus my eggs are poached.
In terms of an active sex life, one could argue that a younger man is a good thing. They are perhaps more sexual than older men, but I would counter that older men can keep up, you just need to find one that still cares about sex in the same way that you do. A woman in her 40’s is at her sexual prime, and I can see the advantage to sexual relations with a young stud.
I view sex much differently now than I did a decade ago in my 30’s. There is a freedom that comes with knowing who you are. I love my body, am clear on what my talents are, and rather than focus on sucking in my stomach or making sure my hair lies perfectly on a pillow, I can focus on how great sex is and enjoy myself without over thinking the whole thing.
I am still a girl of course, so there is a certain amount of crap in what I say in terms of sex, because at my core I want a real relationship, not just a sex partner. There is the challenge. I am at a place where my sex can be really great, but there is nobody to have sex with. It would appear that options for women my age lean towards being a cougar, or a cat lady.
My son has a cat. She is beautiful and I love her, but she is his cat and he adores her. I felt bad for her being home alone a lot, so I got her a cat. The cat has a cat, and I have no cats. I care for them for my son, but they are not mine. Now he will go off to university next year and leave the cats with me, but they will still be his cats, so I am not a cat lady.
With every bad date I think I should visit the animal shelter, get a cat for myself and call it a day. Important to note that I am allergic to cats and having these animals in my home has resulted in my taking daily allergy medication. In the end I am not a good candidate to be a cat lady, and have no interest in being a cougar, so where does that leave me?
I am at a crossroad and frustrated to be in an emotional holding pattern. I am a woman who loves deeply and wants love in her life. I am at my best in a relationship. Not because I need a man, but because I like what comes with being in a relationship. Friendship, trust, communication, sex, partnership, and not being lonely. I want those things for myself.
I recently met a man who has changed things up a bit. We will call him the Mechanic. We had a great connection on the phone, but our first date was a bit of a struggle in terms of conversation. That said, I felt drawn to him in a way I have not felt in a while. We had enough of a nice time to go out again. Second dates are a big deal to me, so this was interesting.
Important to note that he is not really a mechanic. I generally refer to people on my blog by their work, place of origin, or sometimes by the food they eat, but in this case I was not sure what to use. In the end he is like a great mechanic in that he is tweeking me to make me run smoothly. To clarify, I don't need him to fix me, but it does feel good to be restored.
I saw him last night and it was wonderful. I like him and there is no bullshit because everything is out on the table. He knows I am struggling with trust and heartache, and he proceeds with caution. He is allowing me to find my way without pressure, and I appreciate it. We talk about things without fear, which is liberating. He is a lovely man and makes me laugh.
There are no expectations, rules, or demands. He is finding his way also, and that takes pressure off. We are becoming friends, which is important. He is a phenomenal kisser, which is also important. In not having to define what we are, I am able to be myself. I have moments of bravery that he embraces, and moments of fear, which he allows me to have.
The Mechanic appears to be a good man. I don’t know what we are doing, and it does not matter, because for the first time in months I feel like I am taking steps forward. Baby steps, but still steps. I was frozen for a long time and he has gently taken my hand and pulled me ahead, without giving me a push I am not ready for. We are going slow and being cautious.
When you meet someone wonderful and are not emotionally ready to meet them, it will never work. If you allow yourself to get ready, and find a man who is willing to go slow while you figure it out, you are reminded there are good men, and if we can just get out of our own way, great things can happen. The key is to not think too much, go slowly, and keep the faith.
August 1, 2013 | 7:09 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
When I took my son to the airport on Tuesday night for his adventure back east, he asked for my phone to program in a number I needed. I went to the restroom, returned and got my phone, and saw my son off. I cried the entire way home. I miss him like crazy and am counting down the days until he gets back. It is now 16 days and counting. Dear Lord.
Today when I went into my phone to find a picture needed, I found an amazing gift from my boy. When I gave him my phone he recorded a video message. It is sweet, funny, loving and kind, with just the right amount of smoke blown up my ass. He knows me well and said all the right things. I have watched it 16 times and counting.
It feels very strange to be on my own. I discovered I don’t know how to grocery shop without a teenager and his friends to think about. My once full grocery cart had milk, blueberries, crackers, and a mango in it. I don’t even know why I got those things, other than I felt since I schlepped to the market I figured I should get something. Flying solo sucks.
I know he is having a wonderful time because he texts to check in. I am trying really hard to not bother him. I thought I would keep my texting to only when I thought about him, but it turns out that is constantly, so I am biting my tongue, biting my nails, and just letting him be. I thought I was doing well until I got a Facetime call late last night. Oh dear.
Facetime is the greatest invention of all time when you are a mother missing your child. To see his face was remarkable and it took every single ounce of strength to not cry at the sight of him. We chatted for about 5 minutes as he told me about his day. It was magic, and also a revelation. As I studied his face, I saw that he is a young man and not a baby anymore.
It took a Facetime call for me to see the man he is becoming and not the baby he was. He is independent, articulate, strong, fearless, and smart. I need to take pride in that because I made him that way. I have worked tirelessly to not put my fears on him and I see now that I was successful. My son has been telling me for months that he is not a baby anymore.
It took Facetime to show me that he is right. I will falter of course, and lapse back into seeing him as a little child, but I will get better. If I digress and slip back into my old ways I will simply ask my son to Facetime me from his room so I can see the young man again. I love Facetime. I’m getting my mother an iPhone so we can Facetime too. It is absolute magic.
Technology is really great. When speaking of technology, one could include online dating, which is not great, but still technology. A bit of a transition stretch, but I have to tell you about the man that just asked me out on Match. He wrote me a rather longwinded email about his hopes and dreams, then wrapped it up with a declaration of our being a perfect match.
I cannot image his ridiculous email ever getting a girl to go out with him, but what was particularly fascinating is that I have already gone out with him. I’ve had this happen before, but this guy is special. When we went out we ran into a couple of my girlfriends. They stopped by our table to say hello and ended up joining us for a drink. He then hit on one of them.
Yes, while on a date with me, he hit on my girlfriend. Clearly I did not make a good first impression if he was looking to move on while still out with me. I wrote him back on Match and reminded him that we went out already. I also reminded him he hit on my girlfriend and was not only suffering from memory loss, but all these years later he was still a schmuck.
I sent the email, waited to get confirmation that he had read it, then blocked him from ever contacting me again. Not everyone is going to make a good first impression, myself included, but to not remember me at all is lame and in this instance, I am certain it is more about him being an idiot than me not being memorable. Once a schmuck, always a schmuck.
With my son away for a couple more weeks I am dating more, which is both good and bad. Good because they only way I will meet someone is by putting myself out there, and bad because each bad date makes me think I am better off on my own. I take comfort in knowing I can spot a schmuck. Tomorrow I will Facetime with my son and continue to keep the faith.