Big Dog, Little, Dog, Stone or Brick

When a relationship begins, everything is wonderful. It seems like everything you do together is surrounded by kissing and hugging. For example, at our most recent trip to the driving range, Big drives the golf ball first, and then we give each other a kiss; then I take a drive and then he hugs me and kisses my forehead, etc. etc. etc. We’re kind of disgusting to watch actually. Basically, we can’t get enough of each other. This goes on wherever we go. Trust me, you don’t want to know about our recent behavior in the Linens N Things Sheets and pillow cases aisle!

For as much as Big and I get along and have fun together, our new found love for each other does display its differences. Differences that insist we need to practice the art of compromise. Big can watch every sport known to man on TV all day. For instance, the idea of watching NASCAR, is enough to make me…well, become ill. I said to him, “Do we really have to watch this?” Big’s reply “It’s NASCAR…it’s great!” I just looked at him. Finally, he picked up the remote and began ever so slowly flicking through the channels. “Stop!” I said, “There’s Bruce Willis, let’s watch this! See, how nicely we can compromise”. Why do I have a feeling he’ll start limiting which nights I come over.

Despite the little idiosyncrasies, we are seeking to build a life together. We talk about our future all the time; getting married, moving out of Hoboken, having children, getting a dog…Whoa! Wait a minute!…Stop right there! Issue! Big wants a dog for protection, like a Rottweiler or a German shepherd. I want a Pug, a Shih-Tzu or a Yorkie you know, the kind that wears little pink bows in their hair. He laughs at me and says, “What if we need protection?” I said, “You are my protection!” He says, “What about when you’re home alone and I go to work. I said “It’s called a security alarm!” We might have a major issue here, especially since he assures me his big dog will eat my little dog.

While driving around North Jersey this past weekend, Big and I saw some very nice neighborhoods. Neighborhoods we both liked. I remarked that I like brick homes. He likes stone. Ok…Stone home with a little dog and a security system works for me. I sure love the way we compromise.

This can definitely work.

Big Love

On November 14, 2007, I wrote a blog about my fantasy man from Hoboken, whom I affectionately call, Mr. Big. Yes, like Carrie’s love on Sex and the City, I have my very own Mr. Big. I had not seen him around town in probably 7 months, however, call it destiny or call it fate, we ran into each other on the Path Train not too long ago.

Here is the story. I had just returned from a NY Social Sports Club Whiffle Ball League happy hour on the Lower East Side (my new approach to socialization) and picked up the Path train home at the 9th Street Station. Alone I stood on the train when suddenly at the Christopher Street stop, the path doors opened and there he was, entering through the doors like…like the great Italian stallion that he is. I could almost hear the theme from Rocky playing in the background. He was wearing his black fitted business suit, with his starched dress collar shirt unbuttoned. My jaw slightly dropped until our eyes met, immediately an explosion of simultaneous smiles of delightful recognition. We both enthusiastically said, “Hey” as I walked towards him. He repeatedly asked me how I’ve been and what’s new in my life. He was so excited to see me and, of course, I was beside myself!

Since Big is a big time NY real estate broker I got the nerve up to ask him if he knew of any inexpensive studio apartments for rent in Manhattan. While discussing safe NYC neighborhoods for single girls, he reached in his pocket for a business card and I immediately stopped him declaring, “Oh, I still have your card” (which he had given me long ago during one of our conversations at the spa). Quite impressed with that he told me to email him tomorrow and he would send me some affordable listings. Big told me he had recently come back from a week of vacation at his Florida condo. He mentioned he’d spent the week alone. We got off the path and began walking home together. I knew he would be coming my way since I live only a couple blocks from him (yes, I had checked his spa record long ago). As always, we were totally comfortable in our conversation, laughing at each other’s comments and jokes. It was so good to see him again. What a man! About halfway home, he said he was stopping for dinner at the Brass Rail so we stopped and finished our conversation then hesitantly said goodbye with a handshake. Again, I walked away thinking, why doesn’t this man just go ahead and ask me to dinner.

The next day I did what he asked and emailed him a cute note telling him how nice it was to run into him the night before and how I was writing to remind him about the listings. I added my phone number to the bottom of the email.

Within a few minutes, he wrote me back telling me he would be sending me the listings in a couple days. Then finally, he made his move…He told me he wanted to ask me to go to dinner last night but thought I seemed like I was in a hurry to get home…And then he invited me to meet him for a drink that evening.

I wrote back…(that is after I spent 5 minutes jumping up and down with my girlfriend in the next cubicle). I reminded him that I was going home to South Jersey, but suggested we meet Monday night instead. He agreed…and told me he would block the entire evening for me and how he really looked forward to seeing me again. And the rest is history…

Evidently, this was a case of a very stunning man who would leave the spa thinking, “What a great girl…she has to have a boyfriend, I can’t ask her out”. This was all around the time I wrote the blog about him and how he would be so close to asking me to dinner, but didn’t. The truth is he went home that night after spending his dinner eating alone, went to bed, woke up the next day, thought about me and realized what a jackass he’d been not asking me to join him for dinner. He said he felt he blew his chances with me and that would be the last time we would see each other. He believes fate brought us together again to meet on that train giving him one more chance not to blow the opportunity to ask me out. It goes to show even when you think your flirtations are obvious, a man…a man who totally appears to have it all, can be a bit nervous and insecure in taking that first step in asking a woman out.

So far, things are moving very quickly. Big is incredibly romantic, loving, funny, smart, generous and did I say romantic? He does everything right. From the sweetest text messages throughout my day to his “little kid in a candy store” expression when he looks at me and says “I’m so happy!” to his tender and heartfelt, “I’m falling in love with you”.

My blogs have always been about my misfortunes. Now, they will change. They won’t be about surviving singleness but about having love in your life. Little Tara, happy at last!

P.S. Oh, and as for moving to Manhattan, no need for those listings now.

When One Door Opens, Another Door Closes

Don’t laugh, but a major event happened this evening. Well, a major and historic event between man and animal. Or, should I clarify further - between me and the cat. I have taken one giant step forward towards my innermost desire to relax, to be less particular, to be less fanatical, to be less … cat hair crazed! Tonight, I intentionally left my bathroom door open and went to the gym. I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal to you, but to me….this is a major milestone in my baby-step progression and whole-hearted efforts to be chill and accept Oreo for what he is...a hairy animal. I’m ok…and now you’re ok. Of course, my bedroom door is still shut behind me when I enter or when I leave. Hey, like I said…baby steps! At least now I only have to open and close one door on my way from the bathroom to the bedroom and vise versa. I realize this sounds silly to the average animal person, but the cat (even though he is the cutest thing ever) has been absolutely driving me nuts. I know now that I am the one who must change in order for my living situation to work. Oreo will never change. He’s curious…He likes me…He likes to torment me.

Before I walked out of the apartment, I stopped to watch him. He walked into my bathroom, stayed there for around 10 seconds, turned around and walked out. He proceeded slowly passed my closed bedroom door returning to the living room where he curled down, in his usual fashion, laying his big black and white body onto the black and white living room rug. With his typical non-emotional, holier than thou expression, he stared at me….saying nothing. I can’t help but wonder what that cat was thinking. This is my life. The score…Oreo 1, Tara 0.

Wedding Bell Blues

How do I love thee, let me count…

How do I love thee, let me COUNT the ways…

I was recently asked to perform this cliché for an upcoming family wedding. I say perform because there is no way on earth I could read it seriously or somehow get through it without chuckling. Of all the people chosen to read the world’s most famous love sonnet written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I think it is strangely amusing that they chose me. Me - the one person who has never known love nor has been loved by anyone near close to what this sonnet impassions. How in the world will I pull this off? Sure, I could have a Cosmo or two prior to the ceremony. Or I could pretend I’m being graded for my college acting class. Or I could…

How do I love thee let me count the ways…I love thee to the DEPTH and BREADTH and HEIGHT my SOUL can reach….Wait a minute…wait a minute, my soul hasn’t reached for anything higher than the Go Lean cereal box on the top shelf at the Organic grocery store! Ok now Tara, be serious…I can do this.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Everybody still awake?

Elizabeth Barrett was an invalid who stayed home confined to her room writing books and poetry. A wonderful man named Robert Browning fell in love with her after reading her writings, contacted her and the two fell in love and lived happily ever after.

Maybe this could happen to me? Maybe a wonderful man will someday read my blog, fall head over heals in love with me, contact me and tell me he loves me to the depth and breadth and height his soul can reach! Haha Tara, not in this century!

Bartender, this time make it an apple martini …Ok…here we go…I’ll try again…

How do I love thee, let me COUNT the ways….

The War at Apt. 2D

I have a problem…Oreo might possibly be trying to tell me something about myself and my relationship issues.

Oreo goes to my roommate for three things….She is (1) his food source…(2) his resource for affection and verbal admiration (received daily by that high squealing “hello my baby!” pick-up and snuggling-the-life-out-of-him routine of hers, and then finally, she is (3) his nightly sleeping partner. On the other side of the apartment, I fulfill his hard play needs. I’m his “all play” and mental torture buddy. You see, Oreo and I are at war. His ultimate goal in life is to not only get into my room, but also for me to see him sprawled out on top of my $275 bedspread! He is definitely making a game of being where he knows he’s forbidden. So, this is war, eh? Meanwhile he just stares at me while lounging on my bed. Slowly and quietly I enter my invaded sanctuary and calmly TURN ON MY VACUUM CLEANER AT HIGH NOISE LEVEL!!!! It’s as if bombs are exploding all around him. He flies out of my room like he has come within a split second of losing another life, but in the end…squeaks by uninjured. Little bastard! “I’ll get you next time, my pretty!” I think to myself. The reality…he likes it, actually he loves it! Typical male…loves the challenge, but I prevail.

Suddenly, I realize. Maybe that smart cat is trying to tell me something. Maybe Oreo is saying…. “How do you ever expect to get a man into your bedroom when you lock your door and don’t let a soul even sit on the damn bed!” Maybe I’m not only too particular about my room, but maybe I am too particular about men. Let’s face it; there are no perfect guys, just like there are no perfect animals. Wow, now there’s an analogy!

Maybe Oreo looks at my roommate and me and says, “No wonder you’re both single. My owner loves me too much, since sleeping with the cat will never bring a man home, and the other one won’t let anyone near her room!” Meanwhile Oreo’s complete needs are being met (kind of like most of the men in this area).

Oreo loves to play in the morning (If you know me, you know I’m not a morning person). I’ll be in the bathroom trying to do my makeup when suddenly he’s outside the door, turning the latch and wanting to come in. Sometimes I reciprocate by allowing him entrance. He knocks over my trash can in order to get my attention so that we start the monotonous “fetch the Q-tip” game. Yes, I throw the Q-tip down the hall, Oreo fetches it and runs back with it in his mouth (yes, this is a cat, I’m talking about). Sometimes he doesn’t want me to leave the room and he’ll wrap his paws around my leg. I wind up dragging him into the hall. Again, it fulfills his playtime needs though I wind up having a badly scratched leg and lame excuse for being late for work.

My fear is this … Like Oreo, males today are strictly only looking for play. NY Dating columnist, Maura Kelly calls it something like this: Men today suffer from “Relationship Bulimia”. Although they never appear sick, and look as healthy as oxen, men will characteristically binge on an unsuspecting female and then after a month or so, they dump them like the regurgitation of chopped liver. Relationship Phobias with a monthly bout of Chronic Relationship Bulimia – No thanks! Now you know why I lock my door, you overweight ball of fur! VACUUM…ON!…VROOOOOOM!!!

I Love Christian Bale and Now I Need Therapy

From the first time I saw Christian Bale in Treasure Island, (I think I was 7 years old) I have been madly in love with him. Well, that is in the movie star ga-ga sense. Then there came Newsies where he actually sang and then a year later, he made Swing Kids where we all witnessed his hot moves on the dance floor.

Now that Christian and I have both matured, it has been a thrill watching him develop into a phenomenal and well respected actor…all while sitting with a bag of popcorn on my lap. Batman Begins, American Psycho, The Prestige, and 3:10 to Yuma are just a few of my favorite Christian Bale films.

I could watch him and watch him and watch him all day (sigh)…

S T O P! Wait a minute! …He looks exactly like who??? No! Please….No! You too? You too think he looks like … Oh man! Everyone thinks the love of my life…my total lust….looks like….my brother? Oh no…I can’t lust after someone who looks like my brother! That’s sick!

After comparing around 20 pictures of both Christian Bale and my brother this week, with the fine help of my office coworkers, it has been decided that my brother and Christian Bale are look-alikes. I still have trouble seeing it because it kills me to accept it. My brother has blonde hair, Christian has dark brown hair. My brother has blue eyes and Christian has brown eyes. How can this be? I’m told….they have the same face.

Now, I’m worrying whether I have some deep rooted sick attraction to my own brother…no…no…no way! We’ve fought over the bathroom for too many years, He’s teased me a mega million times, and quite frankly the only thing we’ve mastered together growing up is the art of dating each other’s friends (which never worked out well by the way).

Maybe this whole attraction thing stems from the fact that girls seek to marry someone that reminds them of their dad. Maybe my brother, as an extension of my dad, is all apart of that familiar male thingy that girls go through. You know…who they are attracted to…Wait. What am I thinking? Just because my brother has grown over the years into looking somewhat like Christian Bale doesn’t mean I have some perversion to my brother. I liked Christian Bale way before my brother had to go and freaking look like him. I am just fine…There is nothing wrong with me. In fact, there are probably a million girls out there who love Christian Bale and even have hideous looking brothers.

Today, my brother stopped by my office to grab a cup of coffee with me. As we sat there together sipping our coffees out of nowhere, this girl approaches us, looks at my brother and says, “excuse me…but did anyone ever tell you that you look like, um, oh what’s his name…” My brother and I looked at each other, smiled and said in unison – “Christian Bale!”.

Here’s a little Christian for ya...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLuoXMtvAPc&feature=related

The King of Hoboken

So I had my second dinner date last night with …well let’s call him “Doug” because he looks like Kevin James from The King of Queens. No, he’s not fat…actually he was a big College football “All American” running back. I have to say, he is probably the first…no second…real athlete I ever went out with. My past dating life has included actors, republicans, drunks, Greeks and lawyers. What a combination!!!

Anyway, I’m very perplexed and I don’t know what to think. This is the first guy who has actually not made any formal moves on me by the second date. We had a nice dinner at Margherita’s – one of my favorite “Ma and Pa” Italian restaurants in Hoboken. He brought the wine and we sat there for a few hours getting reacquainted since I hadn’t seen him in a month. We talked about typical conversation, i.e. how all his friends are getting married, a little about relationships, strip clubs, gambling, and his 14 year old nephew with the porn problem. Dinner was fun…he not only ate his complete dinner but part of mine, cleaning both our plates. Since we both had work in the morning, we decided to leave. Now Margherita’s is on 8^th Street, he lives on 6^th Street and I’m on 2^nd. So when we walked past his apartment, he immediately stopped, looked at me and said, “well, here’s where I live”. He gave me a quick peck on the lips twice and said, “Have a great week”. I was flabbergasted! That’s it? I was sent off to walk home alone 4 blocks in the dark. The first date, he kissed my cheek, now the second date, he pecked my lips. Oookay! Now, Doug is 32. Maybe I’m just not used to an “older man” who unlike younger men want to get as much action as they can for as little expense as they can. Anyway, my paranoia is setting in and I’m analyzing the situation like this:

1. He wants a “female buddy”? Now this is new for me. I am not normally the “female buddy” type. I’m more of a girly girl who would not normally go to a bar just to sling back a couple of beers and watch a sports game with the guys. I know very little about football. I know that Eli Manning and Tom Brady are hotties and that is the extent of my football knowledge. Men do not want to hear about that. I watch college basketball while on the treadmill at the gym so I can talk a little about that. Baseball….now that I love! I do love baseball games. But if I went to a Mets game with Doug, I’d have to refrain from wearing my “Looking for Mr. Wright” t-shirt!

2. His guy friends are all getting married and he needs to slowly and cautiously dip his big toe into the dating waters.

3. He thinks my head is shaped like a football and that is all the attraction he has for me.

4. He just came off a broken relationship and he is mistrusting of females.

5. He didn’t feel like walking me home because there was a game on ESPN that was about to begin and he just couldn’t bear to miss it (besides he’s allergic to Oreo and this could present a problem) or...

I don’t know! I am perplexed. Doug is a guy’s guy. To be honest, I thought I would be fighting this guy off of me. Like, he’d be going for the touchdown at kickoff or at least…going for the extra points. NOTHING!! Hmmmm. It’s somewhat unusual that “good little girl Tara” is saying to the jock…What are you waiting for???….pass it!!!!