What do Bridget Jones and I have in common? We’re both single, 30-somethings. Singletons I believe she calls it. I don’t live in London. But I do live in Healdsburg, California. Not quite the same thing, I know.  She chronicles her love life, her obsessions with alcohol and cigarettes, and just general life commentary. I chronicle my life (a tiny bit of my love life–OH!–I had a total Bridget Jones moment when I was dating a guy last year–does that count? I really have to organize and relaunch that site, sigh. So many things to do, so little time). I could chronicle my obsession with wines and the internet and give general life commentary too.

The main thing Bridget Jones an I have is our obsession with our weight. Today. I’m mortified at my weight. I haven’t been taking care of myself as I should be. It’s partly because I’m a consultant and my bills don’t get paid if I don’t consult and I usually have three or four jobs going on. BUT TODAY. Or rather, this week. THIS WEEK, I reached the tipping point. A mortification tipping point.

After all this running I’ve been doing, you’d think the last thing I’d be worried about is my weight. But, quite the opposite. I like to eat. And I’m pretty stressed lately. So–um–I eat more. Stress eating. You know what that’s like, right?

After the marathon, I thought I should focus on rebuilding my upper body and I finally dragged myself to my gym in an effort to feel better about myself. Out of curiosity, I weighed in. I WEIGHED IN. Shall I announce it publicly?

Obviously. That’s what blogging is all about. Living out loud. So. SO. Guess what?

I weighed in. I weighed in at 151 pounds. I could convert it to kilograms (68.5) and get a lesser number–but that wouldn’t make a real bit of difference. The fact is: I weigh 151 pounds.

UGH.

UGH.

I have gained an ungainly 15 pounds since last May. I have to do something about this. Today. The first time I decided to do something about my weight was in 2004 and that something worked was when I kept a food diary. It was this little notebook where I could record line item by line item what I’d eaten that day. And it had recommended calories and foods that I could reference to I could calculate accordingly.

Basically though, what really worked was being conscious about what I was eating — and being accountable for it. Making conscious decisions about what I was eating and learning about portions.

Right now, according to this BMI calculator I found on Google, I have 25.1 percent body fat and by some sort of arbitrary chart, I AM OFFICIALLY OVERWEIGHT.

Here’s my plan. I wasn’t blogging in 2004 when I kept my food diary. But I am now. I’m going to use my blog (with all of my official and unofficial readers) to help me account for my eating and exercising habits.  I’ll really be living out loud.  I’ll even start a new category. What should it be called? Living Out Loud?

Ok. Here’s the stats for today (cringe):

Up at 6h am. Didn’t even make breakfast before I started working on a proposal.

Worked until 9am on proposal before I took a break and made a half bagel and coffee (with milk) for breakfast. Somebody showed up at my door and I didn’t have time to put anything healthy on the bagel. It was just a dry, half bagel. Normally, I like crunchy peanut butter and slices of apple on it.

Worked all day. Had a meeting in Petaluma at 3h pm. Meeting until 6h pm. Ended up being tired and hungry and dehydrated.

Thought about getting a burrito from Whole Foods–and only eating half of it. But — got side tracked by a Chinese place because I actually wanted soup.

Had mixed vegetable soup and a plate of mixed meat stir-fry on crunchy noodles. I didn’t finish the entire plate, but I made a good dent in it.  Green tea. I think I really was dehydrated.

OK. All of that isn’t terrible. Right? In general healthy–but not as regular as it should be (breakfast, lunch, dinner). The kicker is the fact that on the way home I stopped to buy a gift for a friend. I bought a chocolate bar at the checkout. I didn’t really need that chocolate bar, now did I? Especially since I didn’t make it to the gym.

The worst part about it is. I don’t really like chocolate. OR until last September, I never really ate chocolate. Now it seems, I can’t ever get enough. UGH. Something else to work on.

Well. Tomorrow is another day. I guess I’ll let you know how I do.

Wish me luck.

Last week, I published my list of 25 random things about me. And did all the appropriate tagging in Facebook. I couldn’t tag my friend in Yellowknife though, she’s not in Facebook. I tagged her through my blog and yesterday, she sent me her list. When this post feeds into Facebook, I’m going to tag all of our Grad ‘89 class, see what they have to say. HA!

25 Random Things About Me (The Friend)

1. I am short.

2. I am incessantly organized. For example: the cans in my cupboard line up in sections….OCD?

3. I like electronic gadgets but hate learning how to use them, therefore, I don’t buy them.

4. I am most relaxed when I am surrounded by nature.

5. I can never remember the names of songs or bands or singers.

6. I crashed my Dad’s ATV when I was a teenager. Man – is that a story!

7. I have funky green curtains that I made in my camp room, just so it doesn’t look or feel like a correctional facility.

8. I learnt to snowboard at 37.

9. I have lost count of the number of bear encounters I have had.

10. I drive a standard transmission vehicle.

11. My friend and I used to sing 50s and 60s music at the top of our lugs while working.

12. When I knew Redd – she had a different name and taught me to shoot a bow & arrow.

13. I’ve walked on the Arctic Ocean.

14. I’ve hiked the Chilkoot Trail; twice – both times with Jennifer.

15. I am clumsy. Not a revelation to most – just a fact of life.

16. I think everyone should read Mitch Albom’s - the five people you meet in heaven

17. This is my year of new adventures.

18. I wonder…why is it that someone will spend $100 on an outfit but won’t spend $15 for a pack of 5 “every day” undies until the ones they are wearing fall off?!

19. I love French fries.

20. I once made a turkey casserole that was so bad we went for Chinese food after four bites. I put the word “gross” thru the recipe.

21. I wish you a story with a happy ending and the wisdom to find it.

22. I am a sentimental fool who cries at sad movies and love stories.

23. I just heard the funniest story… Just for kicks as young men when one of their buddies passed out one evening the group decided it would be great fun to duct tape deer antler to the buddy’s head… and then they woke him up! Imagine the hilarity of watching someone try to sit up when his antlers are stuck in the couch…

24. I want to have a short, hot, passionate love affair.

25. It has taken me far longer to write this list than I thought it would or should!

From the meme thing going on in Facebook. Once you have been tagged, write a note with 25 random things about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. Tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you it’s because I want to know more about you. (To do this, go to “Notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app then click publish..)

(FRIEND in Yellowknife, I would tag you in Facebook, but you are not there and prefer to remain known simply as THE FRIEND. You can join another one of my friends (Ludovic in Switzerland) who are members of the secret and private “I-am-not-a-member-of-Facebook” club.) Still, you can write your 25 things and send them along. I’ll publish them here–if you want me to.

With no further adieu: here are 25 random things about me:

1. I am messy, but absolutely HATE  living in my mess. I get tired of my mess every so often (but not often enough) and clean it up.
2. I spill things all the time. ALL over the place. I trip going upstairs.
3. And even though I’m a messy person in the physical world, I’m hyper organized in the virtual world. I  blame GOOGLE for my lack of physical filing habits.
4. I love radio3.cbc.ca. I love Indie music and discovering new music to add to my music collection. The airwaves in the States are pretty stagnant. Filled with bubblegum pop and no texture.
5. I love the This American Life program produced by Ira Glass. I dream of meeting Ira Glass in person one day and having a cup of tea with him in my kitchen (his wife is invited too of course).
6. I get loud, obnoxious hiccups if I drink pop, but not if I drink carbonated water.
7. I grew up at Mile 906.8 Alaska Highway, Whitehorse, Yukon. 15 kms from nowhere.
8. I am passionate about technology and the internet. It sometimes consumes me. And teaching others about how it works consumes me. I am grateful for the entire notion of blogging.
9. I want to create and produce stories at the same caliber of This America Life, and The Vinyl Cafe.
10. I have never visited New York City.
11. I twiddle my hair. I used to have long hair and twiddle incessantly, but I have shorter hair now. I twiddle less. It still drives people crazy.
12. I would like to stop doing so many things and stand still for awhile.
13. When I was a kid, we had a dog we’d named Dr. Bear. We called him Bear for short. When we took him for walks in the campground across the highway from our house (Wolf Creek Campground–for those of you who know it), we’d call out Bear! Bear! to get him to come. And the campers would think we were announcing a real bear.
14. One summer, my sister was crossing a tree across the creek, and she got to the other side and called, “Bear! Bear! Come here Bear!” and there really was a bear rooting around in the undergrowth.  She hightailed it home and found our dog waiting for her.
15. In the summer of 1994, I almost got eaten by a grizzly bear up in Kluane Park. (ALMOST might be a slight exaggeration, but there was a grizzly announcing to us that we were far too close for his comfort–which is a 200 metre radius BTW). We think we were lucky he had already eaten his dinner.
16. I have hiked the Chilkoot Trail seven times in my life. The first time when I was 12. The last time when I was 35.
17. I still have the first book I ever read: Danny and the Dinosaur. I started reading when I was five and fell in love with language. I love words. I keep two or three dictionaries in the house so I can refer to the dictionary when I feel I need to. Now, I have the internet, but I still love my dictionaries. And get lost in them when I open them up. Too bad my spelling sucks. I have to do something about that this year.
18. I like snowboarding, but since moving to California, I don’t go as often as I could and I suck.  One day on the ski lift up at Heavenly, some young kids looked at my board and exclaimed: “Wow. Hard core boarder, man. Those are original bindings!” Then they looked up at me, and were immediately disappointed. I laughed and said, “Not hard core fellas, just old!”
19. I have a fire hydrant in my garage. Remanent of former tenants, but it’s too heavy to move. And what do you do with an extra fire hydrant?
20. I love public radio. CBC.ca. BBC.co.uk. NPR.org. I love that on the internet, I can stream all of my favourite shows ANYTIME I want them. From any country. I should probably try to discover what Australian public radio is like.
21. I like gingersnap cookies the best.
22. For my Christmas present, I bought a Jack Lalanne juicer. It makes great juice. It also makes a huge mess. Or maybe, pursuant to item 1., I make the mess.
23. In 2000, I took a sabbatical from Nortel Networks for six months and travelled to Central America and Europe. I spent a total of $10K from my retirement plan. My colleague reprimanded me for taking money from my retirement for what she considered to be a frivolity. By the time I got back from my memorable travels, my colleague’s retirement funds had plummeted more than $50K.
24. I have approximately 50 GB of music on my hard drives from my music collection. I used to buy CDs. I now have iTunes.
25. I started rollerblading in 1994. I used an entire paycheque to buy my blades. I still use them here in Healdsburg. Most people look at me oddly. But, I can go forward really fast on them. Really fast. And I love the feeling going forward really fast. I’ve been stopped by the Healdsburg police. They didn’t want me rollerblading near the town plaza. Also, a lady stopped her car once and reprimanded me for rollerblading in the street. I’ll be 37 this February. I think I’m a bit too old to be reprimanded.

After many conversations and shared moments, and a few evenings of phone calls where I have tried to gather up courage to ask, I finally just say: “Hey. I have a question.” My heart rate sky rockets, but I try to be casual. And I ask: “Umm…., well, what do you want?”

And in a smaller voice, I look down. I look away. I look anywhere else but at the person I’m talking to: “More specifically, I guess my question is: What do you want with me?”

Later, I thought, “WHAT WAS I THINKING?” And I reprehend myself because I’m accommodating again. I always try and find out what’s going on and figure out how I fit in.  Accommodate. Accommodate. Accommodate.

I’m kinda tired of trying to fit in. I don’t. OBVIOUSLY. And in order to take control of my life, I think a way better question would be: “What do I want?” and “What do I want with me?”

After some consideration (and a prompt from somebody else entirely) I thought I might just put it out there on my blog. What have I got to lose?

Basically though (deep breath)….here is what I came up with tonight:

I want to share my life. I want to share my body. I want to create memories, and a home–with friends, and family, and community.

I want to laugh.

I want to grow, to challenge, to discover. Intellectually. Emotionally. Physically.  I want a counterpart. A partner. I want someone who challenges me and makes me think. And helps me grow. I want to encourage. To be encouraged.

I want to become a better person.

I want to make healthy decisions: physically, emotionally, financially.

I want to travel. I want to experience new places. I want to discover new music, and culture, and textures, and flavours.

I want to take care of my parents.

I want romance. I want kissing for hours.

I want intimacy.

I want to love and to be loved.

I want babies and dogs and careers and gardens.

I want to cook dinners together.

I want to feel beautiful. And smart. And sexy (my four favourite adjectives: sassy, classy, smart, and sexy). I want to be a best friend, a girlfriend, a wife, a lover, a mother.

I want a life.

I want him (whoever he may be) to choose me (over anybody else, over a job, over his parents). I want us to create our own circle of trust and build a life together.

I don’t want to be a second choice.

I don’t want to be a side dish.

I don’t want to be filler.

I won’t settle for anything less.

I’m 37 in February. I’m too old to wait for things to happen. If I don’t take control of my life, I don’t think I’ll ever have what I want.

As many of you know, this cartoon connotes EXACTLY what life is like today–virtually, physically. It’s pretty funny. Last week, my cousin NIK got engaged…and I saw her Facebook status update AND I immediately wrote to congratulate her.

Talk about instant gratification. One day, I was talking to a friend about the lack of available, date-able men in Healdsburg. She-along with many other friends have been encouraging me to put my profile online–on one of those dating sites.

GOOD GOD! I may be passionate about the internet, but I’m not about finding passion on it. I not about meeting real people online. My theory about why those dating sites are so successful is that everybody who’s on them has one thing in common–they are all looking to get hooked up. And that’s the basis of their meeting–so their rates are successful.

Plus, apparently–the women can shop. Great business model…let the women shop. HA!

I shouldn’t be so guarded. If you read my blog, you know I’m all about being authentic and real on the internet. AND there are a lot of success stories out there about meeting people online. For example, some guests I last week met on LavaLife. Other friends on Match.com. Anyway. A lot of my friends say get online, figure out what you want, and order them up.

But the whole process is a bit freaky to me. You can’t read their body language. You can’t see what’s in their eyes. You can’t hear their voice inflections. There are so many levels at which humans communicate, the internet is just one. Although, somehow, I personally find it easier to be honest in this medium, I know that there are many others who communicate who they want to believe they are.

Also, I’d be freaked out at finding somebody I may already know out there–and I’d dated him. Good grief. I’d also be rating them on how long have they had their profile up? Like an MLS listing or something.

Who wants that?

Here’s one of my favourite quotes from Lewis Carroll:

Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it would appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been or what you would have appeared to be otherwise. – The Duchess in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter IX

And, believe it or not, I can recite the entire poem: Jabberwocky.

A few nights ago, I went out for After Hours at the Ravenous Restaurant here in Healdsburg. That is, I went just to hang out and get a bit of conversation and meet some interesting people before I turned in myself. Ravenous is a local restaurant in an old house on Center Street. The entire backyard is the backyard patio and bar. It’s a pretty cool atmosphere. I like showing up later–you meet more locals (everybody who’s getting off of their shifts from somewhere else).

And if you know me and my Princess Donkey ways, I just start talking.

That night, I ended up talking to two out-of-town gentlemen who’d met one another at law school in London, England. One was living in Hong Kong now, the other–still in London. They were both here on holiday getting a bit of the California sun. They’d made it to Healdsburg after a few days in San Francisco. They were a bit tired, but they did ask where I could recommend they should go visit the next day.

I gave them an itinerary…based on nothing else other than the places I liked (but I did cross-check with a few other locals at the bar). I’ll eventually write that itinerary up and post it on HealdsburgMagazine.com (my other online home). But today, I was thinking about our conversation.

We somehow ended up talking about my favourite BBC series (the original OFFICE series, and something that’s showing on BBC America right now: Coupling). I tell them I think Coupling is the British version of Friends. AND IT IS SO MUCH MORE FUNNY. I laugh my head off at the dialogue. But, I guess that’s British and maybe more Canadian humour, not American.

I did say that I was a huge fan of the HBO series: Sex and the City. For a number of reasons: I like the writing in the series. It was daring, dashing, bold, and beautiful ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I could identify with almost everything that happened to every character in every episode. I also have a fetish for sexy shoes.

The guy from Hong Kong asked me which character I identified with the most. I thought about it for a second before I replied: “What you guys don’t get is that every woman is every character. We are all sassy, classy, smart, and sexy (Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, Sam). Those four characters are the four cornerstones to each and every one of our personalities.”

That’s it. That’s what you have to know about us. You also have to understand when it is appropriate to start a conversation with any one of those four personalities.

I’m not really writing anything that Sex and the City fans don’t know. But if you’re a guy, and you’re reading my blog, and you’re not really a fan of the HBO series, I just wanted to let you know that fact.

Another thing I told them–about modern women today. We have jobs. We have careers. We work hard. We have our own salaries and financial portfolios. Some of us even own our own homes or residences.

I think who we’re looking for when we’re actually looking for a relationship is NOT someone who can take care of us. We can take care of ourselves. It would be good if YOU could take care of yourself and contribute to taking care of a household–yes, I mean cooking and cleaning and laundry and shopping and all the household tasks that your mother used to do.

The only part of us that we need you to take care of our hearts.

PS: It would also be good if you liked to dance in the living room.

I’ve been talking to my friend in Yellowknife. In fact, I’m going to call her now. Except, I have to write a blog entry before I can. It’s been too long since I made my last one–and I’m due.

We had a great chat the last time we talked. I think we talked for three hours. Now. How’s that for friendship?

In fact, that was the topic of the conversation (or that’s how we started off). We talked about friends and our friendships and what they mean to us. She laughed and said that saying was true…that one that says something about you know who your true friends are when they show up to help you move. She was relieved at how many of her friends showed up to help her move her stuff into her new place and she’s grateful for that. She was just grateful.

When I moved from Bush-Field last year, my friend Quebec-Martin showed up with his pickup and helped me move back to Healdsburg. AND I have to say that was quite a relief. He also helped me quite a bit once I was here. In fact, I believe I have a whole entire photo essay on building the composter. I didn’t have any furniture or kitchen supplies, but I knew the first thing I needed was a composter–and he and Humberto helped me make it.

Another thing we talked about last time was texture. One of her friends had given her a compliment (the day of her move) and said something about texture. That she was a person who had texture. My friend couldn’t have felt better. What a compliment!! I think so too. I like that.

I told what I’d told another friend of mine once when he asked me what I thought of Cobie Chaillet.

“I was thinking more about Colbie Chaillet on the way to Petaluma this morning as I was listening to Dianah Washington. I realized what I had described was mainstream was more like–lack of texture. That’s how I would describe it. Lack of texture.

I like music with depth, complexity, range, and texture…in fact. In fact, it turns out, that’s how I like my wine. And..now as I’m typing this, I realize I like people like that too. I like people who have depth, complexity, range, and texture.”

And that’s how I think my friend is–and I can only aspire to have those qualities too. I guess life is just a work-in-progress.

ON THAT NOTE….it’s time to publicly announce that we (my friend and I) have a goal. We are challenging ourselves to compete in the Yukon River Quest next summer. Isn’t that exciting? AND we have a whole year to prepare. When she told her dad, he said he thought he’d go too and he’d ask our former Outdoor Ed teacher Cliff Dunaski to go along with him.

I wonder what it’ll be like twenty years later? OMG!!!!!!!!Twenty years later!!!! We were part of the graduating class of ‘89.

I’m having a conversation with my girlfriend in Yellowknife. I call her most Sundays so we can catch up and chat. We are just like we were in high school. We talk about our lives and what we’re doing and we talk about boys. Except, we’re a little older now. A little more experienced. We’ve had our share of dramas. We know more how to dress, how to act, how to use our feminine wiles.

NOT!!

And, I’d like to know what feminine wiles are exactly. I’m not aware that I have any. I’m not aware of how they work. When I had a husband, he’d get annoyed (as he should have) when I’d smile and talk to other guys. And that was hard, because I worked in technology. There were a lot of guys. He’d say: Just because you smile and talk to them–they get an idea. That’s all you need to do. Smile and talk.

So I guess after certain situations, I did learn that smiling and talking wasn’t a good idea. I stopped smiling. I stopped talking. And now I fear I’ve lost that basic social skill. Men aren’t interested in me lately. Maybe I don’t meet enough men, but really. Men don’t seem to even notice I exist.

My friend says it’s because I’m not putting myself out there. Well. I’ve had it with that. I’ve put myself out there. I’ve just been disappointed over and over again. I don’t think my heart can take it. I don’t ever want to feel that sushi raw feeling again. EVER. It’s taken me all this time to get this thin skin back…I wonder how long it’s going to take to thicken?

Anyway. Last week, we talked about what happens to our tongues when we try to talk to somebody we like. It’s like our brains just go into some sort of overdrive, and circuit to the tongue shorts out.

I dug this explanation up from an old email. I thought it was a pretty good explanation of what happens when I’m trying to talk to somebody I think I might like.

…as soon as I see you, this is what happens:

My heart does this little flip-flop (at least I know it doesn’t stop.)
Blood rushes to ummm….
Then, because that happens, blood rushes to my face.
My face is now flushed and I’m all flustered because I know what is going on.

Then, I can’t concentrate on what I’m trying to say to the person I’m having a conversation with. My tongue feels like I’ve been to the dentist and it’s numb or frozen or whatever. It can’t finish what it is saying and I stutter and fumble and in general just appear silly.

And I try to carry on the conversation, but my mind is just all over you and where you are and what you are doing. And, in order to maintain any dignity or composure at all, I have to leave the room so I can focus on what I was trying to say to the other person and hope that they didn’t notice any odd behaviour….

Here’s something else I wrote on not being able to speak when I know I might like somebody:

And you go out to eat. And he talks. And you push food around on your plate and try to focus on what he’s saying. But all you notice the sound of his voice and the way that he talks.

And when you finally do try to take a bite to eat–you miss your mouth and the food falls back on the edge of the plate and almost on your lap–because you are already so nervous. So you just laugh and push the food around on you plate a bit more and try to think of something clever to say.

So you just smile. And nod. And try to ask intelligent questions. And inside, you’re completely mortified. Because you know you’re intelligent. And smart. And funny. And you have opinions. And normally–normally–you can’t shut up (which is why your nickname is Princess Donkey).

Here’s the question. How do you make any sort of smart, intelligent, witty, impression when your brain-tongue circuit is shorted out?

My friend would like to ask a fellow to go on a walk with her–so she could get to know him better. First of all, she’s just nervous and she doesn’t know how to approach him. Secondly, when an opportunity arises for her to ask, her brain-tongue circuit shorts out. Anyway, she’s nervous she’d end up asking him too many questions and it would appear like an inquisition. (I tell her that’s what her girlfriends are for!!). But, alas, she’s not in a situation where she has those kind of girlfriends. Mabye the story will change in the next few weeks.

Regardless. Guys. Do you have any answers for us? How do we get to know you without being too forward? Or too direct? Or too silly? Or too flirty? Or too much of anything? What’s the right balance? So that we can just subtly show you we may be interested … in getting to know you–to start with….

Duck-Hunter, what do you think? Can you start off the comments?

She was out in the bush for two weeks. I’d called last Sunday and we just chatted about how to feel feminine if you are out in the bush with a group of guys. She just said: “I don’t.”

Then she also clarified: “I don’t think I’d want to be a girl out here. Where would that get me? I have to work with everybody back in Yellowknife.” Then she said something interesting. She said that when you’re out in the bush for so long, people you’d never find interesting under normal circumstances start looking interesting. She giggled. And THAT’s when you know you need to get back to the real world.

Then we talked about a few things we do to feel feminine. “As soon as I get out of the bush,” she says, “I take a bubble bath. With wine and candles and aromatherapy and everything. And I clean up from being in the bush. I soak. I wash all the grub and smoke off. And shave.”

We talked about shaving for a minute and discussed that we both like clean-shaven men. We also talked about who should get a hair cut and a shave and how a trim and a shave takes a guy a long way (from being non-interesting to making us do a double take–quite literally).

We also talked about tips and tricks for shaving. Girls know what I mean. We all talk to our girlfriends about what works and what doesn’t work and we recommend beauticians who treat us well. And we’ve all had a terrible, horrendous experience at one time or another. So we talk and laugh. And I guess, we just bond. We bond over girl talk.

Then I asked her: “When you are just one of the guys, at which point are you a girl in a group of guys?” and, “Do you talk girl-talk to a guy friend?”

I don’t. Well. I don’t anymore. I’ve had to learn what is girl-talk and what is girl-talking-to-a-guy talk. And–well vice versa. And believe me, I had to learn the hard way. I now I like to think I have a better filter.

My friend did some research on her own.

If you are a group of girls and there is one guy, it’s ok to talk about things like bubble baths, bikini lines, and shaving legs.

If you are one girl and one guy (and he is not gay), that’s a borderline conversation. It’s a flirty conversation. Because it gives him a visual. Because if the guy is spending time with you and you are both single, there is a HUGE chance that he’s hoping that he won’t be single for too long. Or minimally, he’ll get to hook up with you.

So basically girls, beware if you are talking one-on-one with a guy friend. Know if you think he’s a friend or if he thinks he’s a potential boyfriend. Be careful you don’t say anything that will give him a visual (unless you want to of course). Because…you’ll know when he brings it up again that it was a HUGE mistake. You’ll know by the way he mentions it. You’ll know by the look on his face. You’ll just know. And you’ll feel betrayed. You’ll feel ick. You’ll feel like you lost a friend.

Which is usually exactly what happens.

We did wonder though–Do guys need girl talk? How do they figure things out–if they don’t talk about it?

She did research the other way too. Girls, if you’re just one of the guys–don’t talk about body fluids (yours or theirs). That is apparently TMI.

My friend sent me her list (which is more of a personal essay), but it is still her list of qualities she’s thinking about.

Beware..Friend..You’re now out there on the internet. It’s not so bad–once you get used to it, but some people know you and some people don’t. The people who know you will now know more about you. And that’s all I have to say about that!

Here it is readers, my friend’s list on the qualities in her ideal life partner:

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Hello Jennifer,
Here it is “the list” sort of. It is open, unplugged and out there, also not sure I want the family reading it, but here it is…maybe they know someone who fits!

Right now, he is imagined–but the chemistry, it will be real.

The dare. – Your turn! (Done…see entry below)

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The Imagined “Ideal” Man…

This started out as a list: Characteristics, personality, physical appearance. But it is evolving into a rambling essay of characteristics, behaviors and random events. It’s probably incomplete, people often end up with someone with characteristics they weren’t expecting but you need to have a basis to work with, change and form as you move forward. So to start: my imagined ideal man is down to earth and lives an active lifestyle. Sounds simple enough but let’s go down that path… He needs to be outdoorsy; and not in that trendy, gotta-wear-Gortex type of outdoorsy way, but that back-to-nature, respect-for-animals, type of outdoorsy.

He is passionate about life, world visions, local issues and me. He is comfortable in his own skin and appreciates the beauty of the human form and a good woman’s curves.

My man knows what’s important to him and how he would define a successful life; the love of friends and family, and knowing that life and love are not in the things we buy but in the people that love us.

He is smarter than me at something and he is physically better than me at some something, but not everything. His devilish sense of humor sets a twinkle in his eye but he is never mean.

Then there are the basics that need to be considered; cooking, kids, and sex. How does my ideal man rank? He can cook – or at least BBQ. He might even enjoy cooking with me. Kids? – maybe. But even if not; there must be a similar (no, not necessarily the same) belief in the things that are important when raising a family, the things like time shared, rules, and being “parents”.

My guy likes to touch. And no, I do not mean groping, I am talking about the unconscious hand at the small of your back, sitting close, and holding hands. He must appreciate physical intimacy and enjoy great sex. Most guys will tell you that’s them, however, there is a difference in the touch and the way my guy talks about the closeness to me. My guy knows that I am always different and today I may want, or do I dare say need, sweet, sweet love – but tomorrow I may want him the second he’s through the front door. I have a friend who calls it “sexually bipolar” – yes, that’s how I want my man to be.

People talk about tall, dark, handsome and all that jazz but my man is attractive to me and there is chemistry. Yes, nice shoulders to support the frame and a nice butt; definitely. Nice butts however, come in all forms and it is the whole package that I am looking for – did I mention chemistry?

Other friends have suggested that the imagined ideal man is “new or used, but not borrowed”, I disagree, for me the ideal man is slightly used or he would have no character.

So, my imagined ideal man summed up in a few inarticulate words? Maybe, but nothing can describe the character, the intimate understandings, the warmth of his touch, and the longing in my heart. No – my man cannot be defined by a label or by words, he is the moment and my everything.