I'm in Ari-ZOO-na, I Promise!

A few months ago, my best friend, Annette (a.k.a. Netty), started dating this really cool, super hip New Zealander whom we nicknamed “Zoolander.”  Side note:  my closest group of friends has this knack for creating nicknames for the boys we date.  We came up with this gimmick in law school, and it’s been the premise of many a good laugh ever since.  Some examples so you get the drift are:  

1) Southie (the boy I dated who was from, well, Southie, Boston),

2) Gentleman Caller (a blonde Southern boy straight out of A Streetcar Named Desire),

3) Blob (his real name was Bob and he turned into a major blob),

4) Rockstarnerd (an intellectual property lawyer who played in a rock band by night),

5) TW (who was literally a Train Wreck),

6) BrXan (whose name was BrYan but when he dumped my friend he became BrXan).

Anyway, Netty’s latest dish we called “Zoolander,” and his nickname became more appropriate than we could have ever imagined at its inception.

Zoo (for short) and Netty dated for the past six months.  They were inseparable during their honeymoon bliss period – holding hands, stolen kisses in the corner, nightly slumber parties, baby talk, the works.  He very quickly ingratiated himself into her life as well as the lives of her friends, me included.  They truly seemed in love. 

About a month ago, Netty called me one night and was like:  “Zoo is working for the next two weeks in Arizona so we’re not really seeing each other much, BUT he’s promised to fly back on both weekends to see me in Charlotte, hooray!”  Okay… that was quite the change but whatever…    

The first weekend came around, and this time Netty wasn’t quite as jubilant: “Zoo’s flight out of Arizona got canceled.  He just called me from the tarmac as the captain was literally taking the airplane back to the gate due to a mechanical failure.  Bummer, huh?”  Yeah, bummer… 

Then, the second weekend came and with it another call from Netty: “What are the chances?  Zoo’s flight out of Arizona got canceled again!  I’m so bummed.”  Hmm.  Not being one to paint the pretty picture, I told Netty that there was no way in hell Zoo’s second flight got canceled out of Arizona.  In fact, there was very little chance that his first flight had been canceled.  Netty protested: “No, you’re wrong, because Zoo called me from his hotel while he was eating a sandwich!  He even described the sandwich (tuna fish because he’s a veg) and where he got it from across the street!”  Fair enough.  What hotel?

The Fairmount in Phoenix. 

So, I called the Fairmount while, per my direct orders, Netty called US Air regarding any and all canceled flights for the day.

Imagine my lack of surprise when I learned from the hotel clerk that Zoolander had “checked out that very morning” and from US Air that there had been “no canceled flights thus far, no, not even from Arizona.”

I was onto him.  No one messes with my best friend.  He was a goner.  I wanted his home telephone number.  My bet was that Mr. Ari-ZOO-na was no longer in Arizona but sitting in his living room in Charlotte with… well duh… another woman!  I went to my office where I knew the caller ID was blocked, and I called him.  I waited for the ring… ring… ri…pick up!

“Hello.  This is ‘insert real name’ speaking.”

You’ve got to be f-----g kidding me?  Seriously?  I immediately hung up and contemplated how to give Netty the bad news.  Only one way to do it – upfront with no frills attached.  Netty was pissed to say the least and was even about to drive over to his pad DOWN THE BLOCK to make a scene, but alas we decided the best thing to do was – what else? – send a text:

“You’re not in Arizona.  I know.”

To which he responded:  “I’m in Arizona, I promise!”

Barf.  Vomit.  Can you believe this guy?  Netty called him (on his home line, no, not on his cell) and explained just why she knew he was in Charlotte, NOT Arizona.  The funniest thing was that he continued to insist that he was in Arizona (hello, home phone line?) for several minutes until he finally admitted the obvious:

“I just wasn’t feeling the spark.”

(After a pause)  “And I’m not in Arizona.”

Okay, sure, you can’t expect everyone you fall in love with to fall in love with you back, that’s fair.  But, what I don’t understand is why Zoo went to all that trouble to postpone the inevitable breakup of their relationship.  The meticulousness of his deception – pretending to call from the tarmac while allegedly in the airplane, describing the sandwich he was “eating,” even naming the sandwich shop he bought it from – is troubling, to say the least.  It’s exhausting actually.  Wouldn’t it have been a whole lot easier to say “it’s not working for me, babe,” or simply “I’m not feeling it,” or, my personal favorite, “I’m just not that into you”? 

I’m aghast at Zoo’s complex scheme to defraud and left wondering… how many of my ex-boyfriends were no where near to my home or (worse yet) my heart even though they proclaimed otherwise?  I’ll never know.  My only conclusion is:  too bad we can’t put a tracker on boys.

Just How Much Is $500 Million Worth?

I'm finally out of my China jet lagged induced state which was only exacerbated by immediately flying across the country to my hometown San Francisco to adjust to yet another time zone. But alas I'm back in the country! And here's what I returned home to...

The day I flew in last week to see the fam, my mother (God love her) announced that she had found my "soul mate" - a thrice divorced multi-zillionaire with three kids he never sees and a minor drinking problem. But, he's worth $500 million so what's the rub? Uh yeah... hmm. Not being one to prioritize a man's fiscal resume (but also not being one to turn down $500 million if the guy is perfect), I was none-too-pleased with this arrangement. We'll call him Mr. $500 Million, shall we?

(Footnote: yes, I was slightly hurt by the fact that my mums thought this was a good match. I know I've finally reached my early 30s and am still single dash unmarried, but is this what it's come down to? I think not, but she has good intentions nonetheless and who doesn't want their daughter to marry Prince Charming?)

Anyway, that night we headed to our favorite Italian restaurant and lo and behold he was sitting at the bar (see above: "minor drinking problem"). Within minutes, Mr. $500 Million was sitting at our table ordering pasta and a big ol' bottle of wine. Within two hours, we were all at his mansion on the hill singing karaoke on a gigantic flat screen TV. I was extremely annoyed but I wasn't one to be the buzz kill. Mid-song during "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," Mr. $500 Million decided to give us a tour of his "house." It lasted about an hour, because there were that many rooms (all of which were empty and barren, sadly to say). When we reached the poolside part of the tour, I suddenly realized that I was alone with the richest man in SF. How did this happen? Did my mother scurry away my dad and co. so we could have some "alone time"? Grrrrr. Within moments, Mr. $500 Million lunged towards me using those personally-trained $500 million legs, and I was off and running. I may not have a trainer myself, but I can run Lola run and indeed I RAN! Well, he could run too, because he chased me around his pool for about three minutes under a fake blue moon, disco ball, and painted flamingos (not the decor I would have chosen had I been given the chance to spend all his millions). As I was running by the window in front of his pool I could see my parents and nana singing with his friends, my "help!" only to be muffled by the sounds of their joyous karaoke. 

Well, it was only a matter of time before I would twist my ankle and nearly fall into his pool. However, as fairy tales go, he "caught" me (or, rather, "caught UP" to me). He threw his arms around me, and before I had a chance to sock him in the mouth, he sighed:

"Hold me. Just hold me. I just want to be held."

Sigh indeed. 

At this point, I just felt sorry for him so, yes, I held him for about a minute. "It's alright, there there now, do you want me to tuck you in or something, there there now?"

No, he did not want that because as I was forming those words he went in for the kiss which I rebuked just in time. So not cool. Was it all just an act to get a kiss and a grope? SO NOT COOL. 

The fam and I left shortly thereafter. On our ride down the hill, we all got in a good giggle no doubt. 

But, it did make me wonder... how much is $500 million worth? To me, it's worth very little if all one has to show for it is three divorces, children you don't see, a major (not minor) drinking problem, and a very big house with nothing in it, not even photographs, no not even air. It was... lifeless. HE was lifeless (despite the fact he could run fast as hell). 

More than what it's worth to me though (because I know where I stand), what is it worth to him? Is it really worth everything he's got which, suffice it to say, is not a hell of a lot? Just how much is $500 million worth to someone who has it at the expense of everything else??? I'll never know, because perhaps Mr. $500 Million is still trying to figure out the answer to that question himself.

Some Pix from China...

Since I am still deliriously jetlagged here are a few pictures of my trip to China because, yes, a picture's worth a thousand words (at least when I'm this tired!).

Off to China!

I'm off on a much-needed two week vacay to China before all hell breaks loose and reviews start coming in! The Kirkus one came in this week and drum roll please... they gave it a great review! Phew, I've heard they can be really tough. Anyway, please check in when I return. I promise to have a fun and shameless post. Here's a teaser for you... my best friend's BF just broke up with her in the most oddly devious sorta way that involved an airplane, caller ID, the Fairmont Hotel, a sandwich, and, of course and what else?, a text message. Hope that'll keep you interested for two weeks...

TTYS,

Cav

As Jack Bauer Said: "These Events Occur in Real (FB)Time"

(Taken from an actual Facebook Wall – names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent)

Nov. 30 Boy's Status:  "i finally did what everyone has been telling me to do. i'm finally done w/ the crazy ass multiple faced bitch named Tracy Moderowski. i feel like a dump truck full of B.S. has been lifted off my chest. fuck u bitch, fuck u."

Girl's Comment:  "wow thanks who told you to write that. sally?"

Boy’s Follow up:  "nope. i'm a big boy unlike u. now u can fuck all those boys who u've been wanting to cheat on me with now. be the little whore u can be."

Random Friend #1: "I know you guys broke up and stuff but this is very disrespectful and uncalled for, not very mature."

Random Friend #2: "way to go jake ya dn’t need the bull shit exspecially if a bitch is gunna cheat on u n dnt let anyone tell u different"

Random Friend #3: "sorry but i cant see sally telling u 2 say that jake that is def something u would say luv u"

And when I looked at Boy’s wall, I saw this...

Nov 4 by Random Friend #4: "what r u doing jake ur messing up big time dnt leave tracy ur a great couple."

Oct 28 by Girl:  I love you with all my heart. ♥    [to which Boy "liked"]

WOW.  From Oct. 28 to Nov. 30… It’s amazing how fast a relationship can crash and burn.

There May Be Something To This On-Line Thing...

On a drunken Friday night during my last year of law school, my friend Jen and I discovered that my best friend, Annette, was GASP! on Match.com.  She confessed over too many bottles of red wine that she had ordered up one of those “buy three months for the price of one” deals they try to sell you to ensnare you into the world of on-line dating.  We were stunned, to say the least.  Bear in mind that this was several years back – before Eharm and Chemistry exploded and became an acceptable “place” to meet your future spouse. 

“You did NOT do that, Netty, noooooooo!”

“Yes, I did, and I have one more month left in my subscription so there!” 

After a few more glasses of wine, someone came up with the idea to exploit Netty’s “last 30 days to find love” and turn it into a competition.  (This was probably my twisted idea.)  The rules of this scheme were as follows:  we would each launch a hostile take-over of Netty’s Profile for ten days at a time and see who could generate the most “hits” (when a guy checks out your Profile).  More specifically, we would each upload our own profile description and picture for our ten day allotment and see who got the most dates.  Netty would stay on and take the first ten days, Jen would take the second stint, and I would go last.  We drank a toast to it and pinky promised – no one was backing out, a deal was a deal. 

“I have no doubt that I will win this one, girls.  I’m going to upload my old headshot from when I was a struggling actress which was taken after eight hours in hair and make-up and looks nothing like me.”  Damn, I was confident (and tipsy). 

Netty’s ten days came and went.  As did Jen’s.  Hits and dates were accordingly calculated.  When it came my turn, the coward within just couldn’t do it:  “I’m sorry guys, I can’t… I’m too embarrassed… I mean, what if someone in our class sees me on-line????  That would be mortifying!  I’m not ready for on-line dating just yet… Sorry!”

Netty and Jen did not take my back-out well.  Jen was particularly peeved with me:  “So typical of you to back out of this, Cav, as if you’re too good for on-line dating since you still manage to meet boys in bars.”  (I did still have luck meeting men in-person.  Just sayin’!  As for the quality of men, well…)

With that, Jen took my ten days on Match and added to the ten days she had already occupied Netty’s account.  She also didn’t speak to me for about a week and, in hindsight, I don’t blame her.  My ego – which was a “single” and lonely ego, might I add – was above on-line dating.  I attached a stigma to it, as if only someone desperate would stoop to find love on a computer screen and, worse yet, pay for it.  I was, as Jen pointed out, above such things.

So, for the next ten days, as if I had something to prove, I hit the bar scene hard.  I met loser after loser and went out on plenty a disappointing date.  Jen, however, stayed in, read her law books, studied for class, and got one – and only one – date with some guy who lived across the country named Blake.

Imagine my surprise when she married him two years later.

Lesson learned:  yes, there may be something to this on-line thing.  More than that though, how would Jen have met this great guy if she hadn’t been in front of her computer?  He lived across the country so it’s not like she would’ve run into him at the local Barnes & Noble or coffee shop.  Go figure – while I was too busy trying to play it cool out and about on the town, Jen was secure enough to stay at home, be herself, and find “the one” in the process.  God, I’m starting to sound like an advertisement for Match.com, and I definitely don’t want that to happen.  But, in this high-tech electronic world that we live in where most people spend the majority of their day on their Blackberry, cell, and laptop, it makes perfect sense that on-line dating would lose its taint and gain a bunch of hopeful romantics in the process.  Me included.

Yes, there may be something to this on-line thing…