Smitten

Here in my lovely foodie Mecca known as San Francisco, there is a singular ice cream business called Smitten. Imagine a pop up store in a hipster neighborhood where each scoop of ice cream is literally made one at a time, to order, before your eyes in a super little mixer piping in a cooling agent, very DIY meets hi tech. The ice cream itself is outstanding, and worth its high price and long wait if you are the kind of person who gets a kick out of artisan food-making and heavenly deliciousness. And so my story begins. After a movie the other night with a man I am getting to know, I suggested we head over to Smitten. Why? Because the night was still young and I didn't want it to end; because I am often up for adventure and am looking for a partner with similar energy; because I love ice cream and it seemed just right and he had never been to Smitten and I wanted to watch his reaction, because it was uncharacteristically warm for SF and I wanted to take advantage of the weather with this relative newcomer to the Bay Area. It wasn't a test. I have "tested" men in the past at times when I was playing more of a game of love than experiencing a real connection. This was wanting to know a little bit more about someone through an experience. And may I say? I was and am smitten.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I am thinking a lot about lying today. Well, I am not actually thinking of telling a lie nor committing a particularly deceitful act myself today, but rather, am thinking today about why people lie and what trouble it causes.

The New York Times had an article about lying via modern technology, and how easy it is to lie via text. I was recently in a relationship where so much of the conversation was via text (perhaps a red flag in itself) and the texting included sweet nothings as well as lack of full disclosure, and/or avoidance ( "sorry, I have to go take a nap " rather than "sorry, I have other plans"). Needless to say, the article hit a nerve.

Why do we lie? I think it's pretty simple, because it is so much easier than dealing with the consequences of the truth. Early in my former marriage, I lied every day, saying that I was leaving work when I was really staying later, blaming my late arrival home on traffic rather than owning up to my lie, owning up to the fact that I wanted to stay at work, owning up to the fact that my husband's insistence on my coming home at a specific time felt suffocating. But really, did any of those lies do any good? I was still home later than he wanted, I was still frustrated with the dynamic, and a pattern that would ultimately strangle the marriage was forming through lies to myself and gentle lies to my husband.

But now, as I am dating and hoping that eventually I will form a new long term relationship, I am working hard on practicing truthfulness, both to me and to prospective partners, and I have no tolerance for these lies. Certainly, it seems that one should be able to hit midlife and be able to deal with the consequences of truth, albeit the sometimes messy, ugly truth.

Texting is convenient when a small amount of information needs to be conveyed and no conversation is necessary. But using texting to exclude the truth is cowardly at best, maddening and hurtful at worst. How can you know what to believe once you know someone has lied to you?

About that Little Black Dress

I wear a lot of black. A lot. Head to toe, I have used it as my wardrobe solution and signature for years because it is easy, flattering, versatile, sexy and symbolic, (during my years in the fashion industry, it was the only color that any of us would dare to be seen in). My ex-husband used to laugh when he would watch me pack, wondering why so many pairs of shoes and pieces of clothing needed to be packed when they were all, after all, black.

I am not the only woman to feel and dress this way, and the term "Little Black Dress" (LBD) is a common one in the vernacular, shorthand for the go-to piece in a wardrobe which makes a woman feel fabulous in an instant. It is no surprise that the great Cynthia Ashby dress pictured here has been a huge hit at my company since it first appeared just a month ago, providing a mix of artful, sexy, and flattering
in one fell swoop.

And yet... I recently met a woman who is an image consultant. She advises clients on what to wear for their business and personal lives, helping them prep for media appearances, presentations and, yes, dates. Her advice to me, a single woman interested in meeting fabulous single men? Don't wear black. Men don't like black. Wear color. Wear prints.

My first thought was uh oh, no wonder I hadn't yet met Prince Charming. My second thought was F(orget) that! This woman(me) wears black. It is who I am, and if a man is not going to fall in love with me because of the (lack of) color of my dress, then he is clearly not my guy! Having worn many an LBD to many hot dates,it hasn't seemed to be a deterrent nor have I had to compromise who I am to satisfy some externally imposed restrictions. Long live the LBD!

You Can't Hurry Love

A couple of years ago I badly, desperately wanted to be in love. After the end of 33 years of marriage, I wanted love again, wanted to know I could love and be loved and raced into an exciting relationship the moment my separation was formalized. I thought I was in love. I was. But the emphasis on badly and desperately clouded my vision and emotions and led me to behave in ways which, in hindsight, I regret. I do not regret any of the experience as it helped me learn a lot about myself and I had many wonderful moments, hours and days.

Since then, I have continued to bump along on the road of love, learning more, loving some, and finding myself in a very different place now - less obsessive, more aware of what is going on with ME and what I want, more aware of signals being sent to me and listening to them.



And so, here I find myself having just brought to the end another promising start with another interesting man because the relationship was not right for me. I saw pink and red flags and paid attention (as opposed to the way I behaved 35 years ago or 3 years go or one year ago.) It's not about whether he is a good man or not (and I believe he is) or if I am a good woman or not (and I believe I am), but whether who we are now, who and how we show up TODAY, is who the other wants to be with. And no fantasy of all the wonderful things we COULD do together or who we wish the other might be can replace the here and now.

Sing it girls.

Scrabble as Metaphor

I have been playing SCRABBLE online for about 18 months now, and admit that I am a total junkie. It has been fun, maddening, and oddly enough, a great learning experience in a Zen kind of way.

The truth of the matter is, I'm not very good. My vocabulary is good, not great, and my ability to see words from a jumble of letters is definitely lacking. But on I play, usually with people I know or want to get to know, and interestingly enough, I have gotten to know a lot about myself and others, particularly men.

One man I played with (and dated) kept winning and winning and winning with fantastic words I had never heard of. When I finally asked him if he had an amazing vocabulary or was it possible he cheated, he confessed (unembarassedly) that, of course, he used online tools to help him figure out words; that everyone did it, didn't I know? (Scrabble Helper = Viagra?) That I had to ask before he would tell me something like that, that the playing field had never been level from the beginning, was a great indicator of the non-Scrabble relationship.

Another man I played with (and dated - hmm, is there a pattern here?) was honest from the beginning about his desire to win, about his joy in playing with an equal partner, loved talking through his difficulties in the game and had no issue naming a problem he was having. He was like that in person, too - honest with his feelings (even if I didn't like them), comfortable stating his position.

One woman I played with, so gentle in regular life and so fierce a competitor online, was incredibly generous with her skill, pointing out plays (after she had won, of course) giving me tips, and continuing to play with me in spite of the fact that I did not give her stiff competition. I had already suspected she was a mensch; Scrabble proved it so. But in addition, it taught me that the rather one-dimensional picture I had of her was missing so much, and that engaging with someone in a different activity from our normal relationship let me in to a whole new aspect, deepening our relationship.

And then there's me. I have come to see in Scrabble that I often play impulsively, that the desire to make a play overcomes my ability to think through carefully, that once I latch on to a play that seems good, I stop looking at alternatives. I have also seen that if I give it time (one of the great joys of online Scrabble where there is little pressure to make your move), I can see things differently, that new words form where none had previously existed.

I don't think I'll ever be a very good Scrabble player, and recent games on a real board have proven that perhaps I have even gotten worse as my knowledge and experience have grown. But it sure has taught me a lot, and perhaps is my new relationship litmus test!

17 All Over Again

One of the things that has been a total surprise to me in my return to the single life is getting in touch with my inner 17-year-old all over again. Never in a million years did I think that I, a responsible, mature 57 year-old woman would revert to emotional behavior much like that of my 17 year-old self. It's been pretty crazy how the emotional psyche works!

When I first started thinking about dating, I found myself obsessed - to be liked, to be noticed on online dating sites (as close to virtual high school as it gets!), thinking that every hair had to be in place at all moments, that I needed to be available for the phone to ring, the email to arrive, always waxed, tweezed, polished. I found that the modern equivalent to waiting for the phone to ring was waiting for the red light on my Blackberry to indicate a message or email. No wonder I related to Ke$ha in "Boots and Boys"

"I think it's time that I mention
I've got myself an obsession
For the smell, for the touch
I know I got myself a habit
But I've got to have it now
I dont care where ,work it out
(let me break it down)

Boots and boys
They bring me so much joy
I wear 'em both so pretty as I walk in the city
Boots and Boys
(give me boots and boys)"

It was as if all the strength and confidence I had developed over the years about who I was had disappeared in a moment, and that obsessed teenage girl returned. (At least pimples didn't arrive along with the obsession!)

I can't say that over this past year I have totally pushed that 17 year-old away and replaced her with an entirely emotionally mature woman. But as each potential romantic encounter is no longer a "first-time", as I have gotten comfortable with my independent life as a single woman, as I have shed that childlike desire to define myself by the company I keep, much of the obsession has quieted. One of my favorite men is very good at reminding me to look in the mirror. One of my favorite women is very good at reminding me that I am who I am regardless of whether or not I have a man in my life. One of these days I will remember all these things on my own.

Shedding the emotional responses of a young single woman for those of an older, wiser one feels great. I can still be giddy about love and crushes, still get excited about romance and meeting new boys (and boots), but leaving that old stuff behind - that's what I'm working on!

Should I Be Wearing These?

I am 57 years old and neither a cowboy nor a cowgirl. I don't ride horses and I have no western heritage. But these cowboy boots are some of my favorite things, boots which have participated in many stories and adventures in my life and as I think about it, represent an awful lot to me. Just last week in Washington DC, I was wearing these boots for my day of sightseeing, when a group of young 18 YO African-American Air Force couples stopped their smooching in a park long enough to pronounce my boots "fierce", tell me that I was "lookin' mean" in my boots and skinny jeans, complimented me on my style, based on these boots (and probably my hair, which was impossible in the wind!). If you've known me within the past 15 - yes 15! - years, chances are you know these boots. So what's the big deal?

The first big deal is that I started wearing them when I worked for the pretty straight-laced big-name retailer, Eddie Bauer, where everyone wore khakis and polo shirts, even the women. It was always a little hard being the curly-haired Jewish woman in this Northwest outdoorsy company, and I tried for many years to blend in, keeping my hair short and my shoes flat. And then, one day I stopped trying. I let my hair grow long and crazy, and bought my first ever pair of cowboy boots - these very ones. And wore them to work, with the knowledge that I was the same Lisa in these boots as I had been in normal corporate dress, that I was just as talented and able wearing clothes which expressed ME as always, maybe even more so with the stress of trying to fit in removed from my daily trials.

Today these boots have become my go-tos: I've worn them on first dates since I've become newly single ("this is me; take me or leave me") , I wore them to meet the new CEO of the last big corporation for which I worked ("this is me; take me or leave me", which ended up becoming leave me!), and I wore them just a few weeks ago with a sexy dress to a party where I knew no one but my very charismatic date (who knew everyone there!) and wanted to present myself as me: casual (it was a young tech crowd), sexy, confident, and individual.

Do boots make the woman? Of course not. But it is pretty amazing how many people stop me wherever I go and notice these boots enough to say , "Great boots!". Clearly they speak to more than just me, must resonate for many women. Am I too old to be dressing like this? I don't think so. While I sometimes look at teenage girls in cowboy boots and really short skirts, and hope like hell that I don't look like I am trying to imitate them, I really don't give much of a damn. And I know for sure that if/when "50/50" exists, the clothes will always look good with cowboy boots, among other footwear.

By the way, these boots are incredibly comfortable, which is another critical element of 50/50: equal parts style and comfort. While I don't recommend these boots for for hiking in Santa Fe, they did work for that this past Christmas - and I liked how I looked!