I Love the View of My Navel

Wanting a man who has a girlfriend is standing in a bakery that puts its chocolate cake behind bullet-proof glass. Frustrating, fruitless and downright disheartening.

John Gray is a DoucheNozzle

I am not now nor have I ever been a fan of advice that likes to espouse the view that man are grunting, visually stimulated idiots who only think about beer and boobies, beer and boobies on an endless loop. I am no more enamoured of the flip side which states that all women are flighty, emotional creatures who use sex to get what they want....particularly shiny things like diamonds and a dude's nutsack.

Huh

So, I'm not sure why, but I am more moved to get in shape by the sight of men who are cut than women who are buff. Rocket Science, I know. But for serious, when you're trying to motivate yourself to go for a walk or lift a weight that's heavier than a Hershey's Bar, you'd think that turning to women whose fitness you admire would inspire you.

Now for sure I am amazed by women who look like they could take on a tank. Jennifer Garner in Alias. Angela Bassett in . . . well, anything. Jessica Biel in Blade: Trinity (shut up! She looked really good.)

But these women inspire me in a metaphorical way. What has made me feel the need to get really ripped this summer is Ryan Reynolds. Gerard Butler. Huge Jackman. And not just because I want to have sex with every one of them. It really isn't (just) a sex thing. Yes, they are beautiful, and I would like to do dirty things to all of them . . . preferably at the same time. But I find the male form inspiring to my own fitness and buffacity (I can't believe I just made up that lame-ass word). Maybe the display of raw testosterone taps into something primal in me. Or maybe I just need to get laid.

Living Single

I have only been in one relationship in my life. It lasted nine months, and it broke my heart in two. I'm not sure why it took me so long to find someone I wanted to spend more than two minutes with, but I know it doesn't have anything to do with me being too "picky".

I flirt like a champ. With men. With women. And most days, with chocolate. But as much fun as I have flirting, I rarely land in situations that lend themselves to relationships or even dates. I've turned down a few really great guys for a variety of reasons, and I wonder why when I get lonely. I'm generally happy being single. I guard my independence, and I know that I couldn't be nearly as self-absorbed as I am if I actually had to consider someone else's feelings.

I turn 30 next weekend, and I never would have thought that I'd still be single at this landmark age. I'm not in any hurry to settle down and I'm not terribly interested in having kids, but I do miss holding hands at the movies and saying "We'll be there." It's nice to have a partner in crime. Knocking over a liquor store just isn't the same when you have to do it on your own.

ETA: Perfect...

Frustratingly Hot

Work crushes are fun for the first few weeks. They remind me of high school. You plan your day around the possibility of seeing your crush. You dress up on days you know you'll bump into him and try to be near him when you're saying something particularly witty.

But after a time, the fun wears thin, and the crush becomes a depressing exercise in fruitless longing. It's even worse when you suspect that the object of your affection knows about your puppy lust and feels a little sorry for you. Gah! So much like high school. Without the unfortunate yearbook pictures.

Truly Awful or Awfully True?

I watched the first season of Rescue Me a month or so ago, and I didn't mind it. I have a huge crush on Denis Leary, and he's at his misanthropic best here. But as I get further into the second season, I'm feeling increasingly uneasy. The way these guys talk to each other, particularly about women, makes me think that I should never date a firefighter. They're all racist, homophobic, bigoted, misogynistic assholes. And those are their good qualities. I can't decide if the writing is a reflection of a reality that I'd rather not acknowledge or a satirical look at heroism and bravery. Either way, I don't think I'm going to watch much more.

I watched the BBC miniseries North and South last weekend and developed a massive crush on Richard Armitage. The man is tall, dark, handsome and British. And it reminded me of something that I realized about ten years ago. I don't have much desire to marry. I think it's a great institution, but as Mae West said, "I'm not ready for an institution" (I am sure there are friends who would disagree.)

However, I've secretly believed for as many years as it's been since I studied abroad that I very much want to marry. I want to marry a Brit. I don't know what it is about British men that just ruffles my feathers. Their accents certainly. Their love of literature and theatre. Their appreciation of intelligent, real women. I know I'm speaking in wild generalizations, but I found those characteristics present in many more British men than American men. Which means it's time to move to London. Poor me...