News Flash: Men Lie

Last week, we ended with tips on how to catch a cheater. This week, after an overwhelming response, I'm going to focus on other tips to really drill down to the communication gap between men and women. In particular, I'll reveal what is behind some men's words or actions that may confuse women.

Granted, women are often just as guilty as men in saying one thing and meaning another, so I’m going to focus on the stuff we men say, how to interpret their words and how to cut through the bullshit.

Let’s start with what happens when you’re first dating a guy. It matters somewhat where/how you met, but let’s assume you met online or through a mutual acquaintance.

For starters, you can should assume he’s seeing other women if you met online even if he doesn't say it…or at least he’s talking to them. There are signs you can use should you ever get to the first date:

1) He has his phone on a password system.

2) He pulls his phone out of your view to read texts.

3) He retreats to another room to make/receive a call.

4) He excuses himself at restaurants to use the bathroom for 20 mins…he’s texting someone else, ladies. No guy spends 20 minutes in a public bathroom.

For me, if a woman is texting on a first date, I always say this “It looks like you’ve got some business you need to take care of, so why don’t we do this another time? I’ll get the check and we can set something up another time.” Of course, I would never call that person again, but both times this happened, my instincts were right: I was dating a player.

Just to be clear, a first date does not constitute a relationship. Therefore, if both parties are still seeing other people (especially if they're in the process of trying to screen through a roster of potential matches), there's no harm in that. Of course, if he's married, that's something else entirely.

I'm assuming every person, man or woman, is looking for a wedding ring tan or mark on the appropriate finger within 30 seconds of meeting.

But let's assume you've now had a couple/few dates with Mr. Wonderful and he seems to be really into you and telling you sweet things as if he already knows that there's a future with you.  Are you buying that crap?  Maybe he's sincere, maybe he's not.

If you met online, one great way to test sincerity is to setup a fake profile using some really hot chick’s photo (make sure the fake profile lists her age as 5-7 years younger and fill out the profile completely or it’ll look fake) Now you’ve set the trap, time to bait him. Here’s how:

1) Set up a date with him using your real profile.

2) Wait a day and contact him from the fake profile. Exchange a couple of emails using the online dating site’s email system and invite him out on the same day/time you have a date setup with him from your fake profile.

If he takes the bait, you’re his second choice…or worse.

Assuming he passes the test, get his last name before you go on the date. Google him. Check him out on LinkedIn.com. Search for him on Facebook. At LEAST due these things as your minimum preliminary due diligence. I’ve had women tell me “oh, I’d rather learn all about him the old fashioned way.” In today’s world of serial killers, con artists and convicted felons, are you really prepared to walk in totally blind?

I’m going to pause for a moment just to address the obvious. While I may appear cynical, jaded, or less than romantic, the simple fact of the matter is that people lie. Even if it’s not an outright lie, they certainly try to present themselves in the best possible light. They’re not about to divulge things like DUI’s, bankruptcies, four ex-wives, restraining orders and things like that. Do you really want to risk falling for someone who has deal breakers like those? Do you want to invest six months, a year, or more to learn these things later? If you’re that naïve or you’re that trusting, you’re setting yourself up for unpleasant surprises after you’re emotionally invested. Your choice, but you were warned. A half an hour of investigation can save you months or years of pain and anguish.

Now let’s get back to the dating-online scenario.

I think most would agree that until you have a few dates with someone and “click,” it’s reasonable for both parties to explore options with other suitors. I agree. But if he’s feeding you lines like “I picked you above the rest,” or “yeah, I get contacted by other girls, but I’m not talking to anyone else cause I want to get to know you,” that’s almost always not true. Especially if he’s white. Or Persian. Or Latin. Or Asian. Hell, we all do it, who am I kidding?

A good way to approach this for men and women is just to try something unique: honesty. “Hey, just so you know, I’m still exploring options to see who I click with. I assume you are too. But after a couple of dates, we’ll both know if we’re clicking. If it’s not mutual, no hard feelings, but I’m going to continue to explore these options until I do “feel it” with someone.

I’ve had women tell me that and I’m totally cool with it. If I like them, I have to “win” them. If I don’t, or they don’t like me, at least everyone can say that they were honest.

All of this assumes of course, that he caught your eye with more than a shirtless photo. If a guy is using lines about how you look, your sexy smile or he doesn’t mention anything about what he read in your profile, you can bet that he was attracted solely by your looks. If you were lazy and didn’t fill out anything about your likes, dislikes, views, background, etc., you’re ASKING to be judged on your looks. And you get what you get…better looking guys, maybe, but they're after you for the wrong reasons. Proceed at your own risk.

Face Value Part 1

 

One of the things I've learned the hard way in dating is that people don't always say what they mean.  Sometimes this is due to cultural influences, sometimes it's due to personality traits and sometimes, it's because they're just not sure and are just trying to be polite.  Unfortunately, in most instances, it leads to disappointment and hurt feelings when the truth finally emerges.

I've been trying to write articles that tell stories that are infused with funny elements, but this article proved more challenging.  Nevertheless, it's a story I've chosen to share if, for no other reason to have it chronicled while it's still fresh in my memory.  

Around Memorial Day, I met a woman we'll call "Tracy" on OKCupid. Although we had met once before a couple of years prior, I didn't really recognize her. Our first meeting was at a local lounge, where she arrived wearing glasses and was dressed casually.  Turns out that she did recognize me but wanted to go incognito in case the date didn't work out.  After some great conversation, she agreed to a second date.

For the second date, I reserved the patio at the Ritz Carlton in Dana Point for drinks.  After getting cozy, we progressed to hand holding and had a first kiss that was amazing.  Admittedly, the tingling I felt inside told me that maybe she could be "the one." It touched her too, because she got very emotional.  There was definitely a connection, at least initially.   

For the third date, I cashed in a favor and closed down a restaurant early, then had the chef pamper us with a special menu.  I told Tracy that although we wouldn't be traveling the world together just yet, tonight, we'd do it through cuisine.  It was one of the best dates I had ever had and I was genuinely having fun being creative. 

She was a professional working 60 hours + a week, but lived not too far away.  Since she made a good living, lived close and had passed all my qualifying questions, I saw no red flags. 

The dates continued for a few weeks, but then in mid July, she had to head out overseas to fulfill an obligation.  On the night of her return, I drove to the airport midnight and brought her and her girlfriend food and blankets for the drive home.  This level of attention set the tone for the relationship.

A few months progressed and by August, she was at my house pretty much every night.  Sticking to my three-month rule for intimacy, the first encounters were awkward.  In retrospect, I think my body was trying to tell me something.  She had demanded a blood test prior to proceeding further, something to which I took offense (I had had three partners since 1991), but nevertheless, I understood her desire to proceed cautiously.

About this time I learned of her last boyfriend, a fellow who had cheated on her a shortly after their vacation together (this issue would re emerge later).  I found it interesting she kept this guy as a friend.  I also learned that she had been dating a guy who was still married, but allegedly going through a divorce.  One might call that a red flag, but I couldn't fault her for dating a guy who proclaimed that he was available.

Over the summer, we took a few weekend trips together, including a trip that she paid as a birthday present.  I've never had a woman buy me anything, so this was really refreshing. 

The one red flag that had popped up was the constant texting she was receiving from other guys.  When a text arrived, she'd snatch the phone up and pull it close to her.  In September, it became a big issue and I called her out on it.  I told her "don't confuse my kindness for weakness," at which point she  handed me her phone so I could see for myself.  I glanced at it briefly and made a note of the guy's names, should issues arise later.  Realizing I already had trust issues with her, we decided to split up.  The story should've ended there....but of course, it didn't.

After a couple of weeks, we rekindled the relationship.  Feeling that we had reached an understanding, I felt ok with it...and candidly, the way I felt about her was undeniable.  On paper, she was a catch.  Great job, self made woman, financially secure, decent looking, took care of herself, supported her parents, owned some property and laughed at all my jokes.  All good stuff.  She didn't cook, didn't clean much and had some procrastination issues, but I wasn't looking for a maid or cook.  These weren't bad things, in my opinion, just characteristics and by no means do I expect a woman to take care of domestic duties.

Our first big trip was an exotic vacation.  Since her birthday was coming up, I got her this pretty nice Michele watch that through a friend who was in the business.  There was controversy here though, because what was supposed to be a custom thing turned out just to be a limited edition piece.  One of her girlfriends made a big issue out of it, as if I had perpetuated some sort of fraud.  Many might say that when a woman questions a $2500 gift from a guy's she's dating, it's probably a sign. I didn't view it that way, but I was disappointed that Tracy didn't tell the friend to mind her own business and it was the thought that counts.  

By this time, we had talked about the future, marriage and life plans and things were going ok, yet I still sensed reluctance on her part.  She would write things like "I can tell I'll be falling for you soon" on greeting cards.  Our trip was to one of the most romantic places on Earth and the trip included an evening when I serenaded her with some bad karaoke.  Clearly, my heart was in this even though we had only been dating 4 months.

Upon our return, I had to go back on the road for work.  By this time, we were texting hundreds of times a day.  One night, she had an event to go to and apparently I texted her too much, an act she viewed as a jealous tendency.  Her responses were slow that night (this is an important detail that will emerge later) and it ended in a phone conversation that got pretty heated.  I got home that weekend and we had it out.  I apologized for making her feel uncomfortable and we got past it. 

After another month or so, things seemed to be progressing despite her constant vacillating and by December, we started looking at wedding rings.  This would be a 4 month process covering three area codes and more than 1,000 texts on the topic.  I always joked that one of the reasons I would marry an Asian is because 1/4 carat looked giant on a tiny finger but somehow, the discussions led to larger and larger stones. For men reading this, here's a tip that a friend shared with me: the larger the stone the woman demands, the greater the likeliness that your woman is in the relationship for the wrong reasons.  In short, the bigger the stone, the more he'll get boned.  That's a Craig-ism.  Write that down.

By mid December though, things had unraveled once again (she felt she was "losing herself") but then were rekindled right around Christmas. On her Facebook, friends were seeing posts like "he's a keeper," "love is about compromise," etc.   In retrospect, clear signs she was trying to talk herself into this.

It was at this time the weirdness started in a big way.  Conversations quickly turned to my looks.  Although I had lost 45 lbs in the 18 months before I met her, I looked "old" to her.  By my friends' accounts, I looked younger than I did 12 years ago, but maybe they were just being kind.  She talked me into two very painful procedures for my face, including a cold fusion laser that kept my face bloody, scabbed and ugly to the point that we couldn't go out for New Year's Eve.  She made up some excuse to her friends and we ended up at home.

Most men accept that a woman will want to change certain things about their man.  For Tracy, it started simple with my wardrobe, diet and driving habits...all changes I welcomed. But this was taking a turn for the surreal.  She had had plastic surgery herself but I've always said, if it makes you feel better about yourself, do it but that was her choice and I saw no reason I should be pressured into doing something I didn't want to do.  

By early March, finances came into the discussion as we prepared to move to a new place together.   All normal couples have this talk at some point, but her inquiries were becoming invasive.  She saw my paychecks, even though we kept finances separate.  At one point, she involved a mutual doctor friend in a conference call in which it became clear she was looking for the man to be the "provider."

The conversation continued to the point where I felt compelled to share my savings account statement, my checking account statement, accounting of my Money Market fund and retirement accounts.  She was opening my mail by now, so she knew I was making as much as she was. All of this was probably a clear sign to walk away, but at this point, we were both in pretty deep.

As the talks of moving in were finalized, I agreed to pay 80% of the rent.  To be clear, there was some give and take.  Although I paid for meals and there was exchanges of gifts on both sides, but to her credit, she had paid for a couple of our trips.  In fact, she even paid her own way to visit me on more than one occasion during my extended road trips.  I felt that she wanted to make sure I could make a good living, though not necessarily pay her way through life.  Or so I rationalized.  Besides, she never asked for anything, as I happily offered these gifts to her and she bought me clothes on more than one occasion.  She was pulling her own weight financially and I was pretty impressed by that.

We moved in together in mid March and on April 1, I proposed to her dockside  under the sunset in Tahiti.  By this time, her Facebook addiction was a problem, but I spun it for the proposal by posting my proposal to her Facebook page prior to takeoff at LAX.  When we landed in Tahiti, I faked an argument with her about Facebook and told her she could check her page one more time.  The video was there, already posted and when she spun around, I was on bended knee with a lighted ring box...and a 2.75 carat diamond as the main stone.

The ring selection was a bit of a story of it's own.  I had a set budget (that could've bought a pretty nice car) but somehow, the discussion went for a "desire" for "at least a two carat ring" turned into a request for a bigger ring about which she was so adamant, that she eventually pitched in $5,000, effectively covering the cost of the setting.  I set the $5,000 aside for the wedding and things continued, as she happily accepted the proposal.  The next several days were heavenly and I felt that we were making real progress. 

All along, I truly enjoyed the man I had become.  I stayed up late to make her dinner after a long shift.  Candlelit home-cooked meals were readily dispensed, along with foot and back massages, weekly poems and love letters.  I did the laundry, ironing and cleaned the apartment so she didn't have to.  She spoiled me too, in her own way, by taking me clothes shopping on a few occasions.  I bought her flowers almost weekly and we traveled to so many great places together.  It was a series of adventures that the entire Facebook world saw.  I was committed and I thought she was too.

By May, I felt somewhat secure now that all of our problems were behind us.  We returned home and planned our engagement party.  We had already met each others parents, each others friends and were settling into a nice routine.

The engagement party was a challenge in that she complained that I was spending too much (she wanted to do $500 worth of appetizers, I wanted to hire a caterer.)  It was my money, so I did both  but to her credit, she bought the alcohol.   Debates about the engagement cake colors, caters and such are all normal in a relationship.  To her, everything was a "sign" we shouldn't be together.  

One big sign to me was that she wanted invite cheating-doctor guy to our engagement party. The fact that she was still friends with this douche was bad enough, bringing him to the engagement party on my dime wasn't happening.  It was a deal breaker, I told her so and I pissed her off.  Somehow, we got past this too.

By June, she was shopping for wedding dresses.  To me, that was a good sign but even this became a debacle when we tried to lock in her maid of honor.  Her two closest friends were passing the buck to one another, a sign that could only be interpreted that neither of them believes that the relationship would work. I grew angry and told Tracy that I would not allow either of them to be in the wedding party.  I was adamant.   I already knew the character of these two "friends."  One was a person I had trouble respecting who got left at the alter by her player fiancee, the other had married a doctor and was  "living the dream."  Tracy never really spoke highly of these women and I wondered why she'd even have them as friends.  

Although there were many challenges by this point, what most didn't see was the pillow talk we had.  We both opened up to each other in deep, meaningful ways.  Although she tried to be private, she probably shared more with me than any man before.  We often laughed and I marveled at how we had worked through some pretty big issues.

One thing that had always disturbed me was the way she talked about her friends.  Often condemning their actions, superficiality or actions, I was surprised that she seemed to seek out their approval on every issue in our relationship.  

By early July, things had deteriorated again and I decided it was time to take a break.  I wanted to move out and told her so very angrily, raising my voice and making it very clear how angry I was by what I perceived as conflicting signals.  She made it very clear with her tears she wanted me to stay.  This is a pattern that repeated a couple of times before my birthday trip in August.  Somehow, we patched things up each time and the time up to the birthday trip saw an uneasy peace between us.  But nothing would prepare me for what was about to come.

Opinions expressed are those of the author(s)

Face Value Part II

In the last installment, we were just about to take a trip to celebrate my birthday.  What Tracy didn't know is that one of her friends had been divulging information to me.  She shared with me that this vacation was a "make or break trip" for us.  Candidly, I felt the same way. It had been a rollercoaster ride to this point, but a few things happened before the trip that had me even more on edge.

For starters, the issue of my looks had resurfaced.  While getting follow-ups to my earlier facial procedures, the discussion turned into a focus on what else could be done.  Tracy dragged me to four plastic surgeons on the premise of a blepharoplasty, but the discussions soon turned to facelifts.  Four separate doctors asserted that I didn't need one and that I wasn't a good candidate.  She wouldn't relent, but I thought I ended the discussion when I said that 'given our history, if you want me to have one, you can pay for it.'  It was a bluff as I never wanted it in the first place.  

I thought the issue was finally dead back in July, but three days into my birthday trip, I asked her point blank: why had she not set a date?  Once again, she brought up the facelift, stating that if I didn't have it, she couldn't marry me.

I was enraged.  I started packing my bags and I was all set to leave early.  She tearfully urged me to stay.  I relented and rode it out. Over the next two days, I thought I had made her realize the error of her ways and she even made a list of things she would do to make things better.  At the top of the list?  Get counseling.  As an only child, in my opinion, she was displaying bizarre tendencies.  Was she narcissistic? Or was she a sociopath?

One of her friends even told her that telling me to get a facelift seemed shallow and perhaps she was focused on creating an image for the world that was untrue.  What image, you ask?  She traveled in a world of professionals and high earners ($150,000 and up). Outwardly, I got the sense that she was interested in presenting an image of success.  Things like a fancy place to live, a nice car, a big ring, exotic trips and nice clothes all helped to paint that picture.  That's not to say that she had a spending problem...to the contrary, as she was careful about money we spent.  Again, she couched it as more of a "security" issue in that she wanted to be sure we'd be financially stable in the long term.

I understand a woman's desire to have stability and to me, it wasn't an issue because she saw my paychecks and knew I made as much as she did that year (and more in previous years).   The issue here was my looks and in the overall context of that conversation, all of these indicators were adding up to something most unpleasant.

By now, readers are probably wondering why I was sticking around.  Again, I'm focusing on the bad things in this article and although I haven't included much of the more heartening talks we had, it's only because her actions spoke louder than words.  

After our vacation,  I hit the road again for work.  A few days into my trip, I checked on the progress of her getting counseling.  Her response? 'I saw a fortune teller who told me I wouldn't be married till I'm 43.'  (She was 37 at the time.)   I also learned in that conversation that when our lease was up, she was moving separately. Finally, some closure.

I made arrangements to move immediately upon my return. The lease was in her name and was still in effect until October, but this being late September, I felt no obligation to do anything more for her. 

Somehow, things died down and although I was moving, she suggested that she could move in with me at the new place so we could "try again."  Remarkably, I bought into it, dismissing the notion of my friends that she was a) telling me what she thought I wanted to hear or b) didn't want to pay rent. 

Nevertheless,  I set the wheels in motion as I felt that faced with losing me, perhaps she was finally ready to tell her friends to stop with the bad advice and she had perhaps had a breakthrough. 

A few days into another trip, she called me up at work and told me she had signed a lease at another place...but we could still "date."  To say I was shocked was an understatement.  That was it...I was done for good and all I could do was to try to exit gracefully.

During this, she had a big court date approaching (she was suing someone),  so I drove 450 miles in the middle of the night to get to her court date where I appeared on her behalf, then turned around and drove back.  Clearly, I was trying to be a stand up guy. 

On the day I moved out, I went back to her/our place to patch holes in the walls and to drop off boxes.  Unfortunately, things escalated because she couldn't bring herself to lift a finger and I called her out on it.  This was on a Wednesday.

Friday rolls around and despite further talks of "letting things cool down and resuming dating," I get a text from a gal pal.  Seems Tracy is out at a local pickup joint...with a man...wearing the ring and the watch I gave her.  At the time, I was in San Jose.  Since I knew she was a Facebook addict, I messaged her through Facebook, as she would probably see that first.  Her message came back showing her location at Javier's in Newport Beach.  I asked her about moving boxes and ended it with "sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your date."

The next day, the text barrage started.  She asserted that she was with a "casual friend."  She then accused me of stalking her, then proceeded to text a dozen or more "mutual" Facebook friends telling them that.  I told her that a friend of mine actually saw her there and if she didn't fix this libelous behavior and apologize, I'd sue her.  I was dead serious, having spoken to my attorney.  She reluctantly obliged and several of the friends tried to add me back as friends on Facebook.  I denied all but one of them.  Who needs friends like that?

I had already deleted and blocked her, yet I knew she had mutual friends monitoring my Facebook.  Every time I went with a female friend, I posted "dinner with a casual friend." It became a joke that all my friends knew about. I even went so far as to post pics of me and a female co worker's trip to Cancun awhile later, always mentioning a "casual friend."

The jealous texts ensued and I just told her "she's just a casual friend."   Admittedly, juvenile behavior on my part and not something I'm proud of, but I hope I made it clear that her response was not believable...to me, anyway. 

Eventually, I queried about the disposition of the ring.  She offered to pay me for the full value of the ring and when I accepted, in an instant, she recanted and offered to sell it back to me for about 1/3rd of it's value, proclaiming that it was a 'good deal.'  I don't understand the logic of me buying the same ring twice, but in her head it made perfect sense.  I suggested we sell the ring and donate the money to our favorite charity but last I heard, she still has it. 

After the break up, I learned all sorts of things that had transpired throughout the relationship, including that she was texting her married ex boyfriend way back in October stating "I just wish we could have a normal relationship."  This just happened to be the night she accused me of being "jealous" when she didn't respond to my texts like normal.  As it turns out, she was busy texting someone else.  All along, I had been hearing about conversations ranging from our finances to our sex life that were all communicated to her girlfriends by text. While I'm grateful to the friend of hers that tipped me off, I'm saddened that Tracy can't seem to accept that her image is being tarnished by her own actions. 

Looking at the big picture, the conclusion seems obvious:  I wasn't good looking enough or rich enough for her, or to impress her "friends," or to make a sufficient "statement of success."  My mistake was taking her comments to me (privately) at face value. 

To her credit, because I was so "sweet and so nice" (her words), I think she tried very hard to make it work.  In fact, she probably agonized over it because ultimately, the chemistry wasn't there for her.  These are all things that should have occurred to her prior to accepting the proposal. 

To me, love is about accepting someone for good or bad, etc. and it seemed logical that once she accepted the ring, she had made that commitment.  Of course, there are no guarantees, not even in a marriage, but if I was still going to be required to jump through hoops as a condition of marriage, she never should've accepted the proposal. I had long accepted her, including her faults and her roster of shallow, narcissistic friends.

A revelation came to me one day when I asked myself: if I were disfigured in a car accident and couldn't work, would she still be there for me?  I had zero confidence she would be.  I should've ended it that day (which, by the way, was the day I had laser surgery on my face.)

She was my jewel, my world and I woke up every morning thinking about what I could do to make her day brighter. As much as I learned about her, I learned as much about myself.

The lesson that I took to heart was that if a person is focused on making themselves happy, there's little left in them to make you happy.  Wherever she is, whatever she's doing, I know that I'm happier and better off now.  To use a cliche, you have to let go of the wrong person in order to find the right one. 

Opinions expressed are those of the author(s)

Safety Tips for First Dates

If you've read the news anytime in the last 30 years, you know that there are a lot of sick SOB's running around. Let me tell you about two that touched my life.

The first was an Oakland Raider Cheerleader named Linda Sobek. She was also a model and our paths crossed circa 1992 when she came into the company for which I was working to be hired on as a model for a trade show. As a model, she had gone to countless photo shoots including several with one of her favorite photographers. Tragically, because she had trusted him before, she did so again...and it cost her her life. She ended up raped with foreign objects on a photo shoot out in the desert, murdered and buried in a shallow grave. Her killer was caught, confessed and was convicted. That doesn't bring Linda back, though.

Another more recent one was Jasmine Fiore. If you read the story about her, she was murdered and butchered by a boyfriend she met at a club. Both victims knew their killers for years and both stories made national headlines.

Since you never really know about someone you think you know, why would you get in the car with someone you just met?

While no one can protect themselves from every threat, you can mitigate some threats by being smart. With that said, here are some simple precautions you can take before you get in the car with someone whether it's your first date or or your tenth.

For starters, you should get the person's first and last name. This will allow you to Google the person, check their LinkedIn page, possibly find them on Facebook and in theory, run a free background check. You can also search court records for marriages, convictions, etc. if you know the county(ies) in which they've lived. At the VERY least, you should be doing these simple checks.

Another great one is the free mobile phone apps that let you search for sex offenders. Get it and check it.

On the day of your date, you should pick a "safety" buddy, one to whom you can set pictures of the guy, his full name, estimated time of return and arrange for a call confirming you're alright at the conclusion of the date. Before you actually get in the car, get the year, make, model and license plate number. This is as simple as the innocent question that you can word like this "oh, my friend has a car like this. What kind of car is it? What year?" He'll never suspect you're gathering information.

Once you get to your first destination, excuse yourself to use the bathroom and text your safety buddy. Let them know you've arrived and so far, things are ok. Make sure to stick to your arranged call and if you're getting home later than planned, use a fake bathroom break again to text your friend that you're running late.  No matter what, make that arranged call, even if it has been rescheduled.

In some cases, you can tell your date that you have an arranged call with a parent or friend as an excuse to end the date earlier. Be sure to tell him that you're supposed to call from your HOME number, not your cell.

Make sure your cell phone battery is fully charged before you leave the house. In the event something bad happens, the longer your battery has power, the more likely you can be tracked by law enforcement in an emergency.

It's also not a bad idea to pick up a stun gun or a can of Bear spray (like Mace, only it sprays further).

Together, these tips could make a big difference in the outcome of the evening. I hate to make you paranoid, but the simple fact is that there are predators out....and they're very good at what they do.

Situational awareness is the key to survival, whether you're hiking, driving, flying fighter jets...or our on a date. And since I can't afford to lose a single reader of my blog, please be careful.

How to Catch a Cheater

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Edible Undies

There's an old joke that goes something like this:

Do you know the four steps of relationship sex?

Everywhere Sex: That's where you do it everywhere...the car, the beach, the kitchen table, etc.

House sex: Limited to your home but in every room.

Bedroom Sex: only in the bedroom.

Hallway Sex: when you're only say "f$/k you" as you pass each other in the hallway.

There may be an element of truth to that for some. But the joke reminded me that once the novelty wears off, many couples fall into a routine and still others try to break the routine by spicing things up.

Such attempts can manifest themselves in several ways. Some choose to turn on some videos, which never worked for me. As a videographer, I couldn't focus on the sex, but instead turned my attention to poor cinematography, bad lighting, terrible audio and cheesy dialog. Not to mention that I don't know a single woman who does the dishes in lingerie and I know even fewer studly looking pool guys.

Suffice to say, I had to look elsewhere for spice. I've had women try everything from furry handcuffs to flavored condoms...I didn't know a woman had taste buds down there, so maybe I used them wrong. I've had women dress in leather, bring whips, masks, even one who dressed up like Princess Leia. I resisted them all because deep down, I prefer deep connection to devious devices.

I adapted by embracing romance as a form of foreplay, so nice dinners, vacations and flowers set the mood better for me than anything else. This I've known for a long time. I tried to use this strategy in all my relationships but every so often, I dated someone adventurous.

In one relationship, our intimacy fell into a routine largely because it had to be carefully planned around the sleep schedule of a child in the household.

It was usually limited to a Friday night after the two year old went to sleep. On this occasion, I was treated to my first (and only) experience with edible underwear.

Back in the early 90's, they were made from a substance that was more like a fruit roll up than an undergarment.

On this particular night, after a nice dinner, my lady and I curled up on the couch and watched "Silence of the Lambs." Afterwards, we retired to the bedroom for a little adult time. Standing in the bathroom doorway, she held them up and said 'Are you ready for dessert?'

Problem was, these things were as big as a barbecue cover. I replied "oh honey, I don't think I can finish all that." She broke down crying at her perception that I was implying that she was fat. After an hour of consolation, we finally made up.

Getting down to business was difficult because frankly, I found the whole thought of this hysterical. Somehow, I decided that now was a good time to play a prank. With my head under the covers, I peeled away pieces of the undergarment and laid them across my face like bacon in a frying pan. I then popped my head up and blurted out "hello, Clarice." We both laughed so much, the mood had passed and we ended up falling asleep.

When I woke the next morning, I got up as usual, showered and reached for the hair dryer. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the two year old had crawled into bed with my lady. There went my hopes for a morning romp.

I should've remembered that Saturday morning meant cartoons in our bed for the little, but my mind was elsewhere.

Disappointment turned to horror when I noticed that the toddler was chowing down on the edible delectable.

My lady woke up as I made some sort of gasp or shriek, I don't remember which, but I knew I was in trouble.

She began yelling at him for eating something he wasn't supposed to and, as predicted, I got blamed. She looked at the nutritional information on the label and realized it was similar to an actual fruit roll up, so she relented.

I was a bit surprised, so naturally I asked "are you sure you want him to eat all that?" And the fight resumed.

She thought I meant that I implied that she was big because the edibles were big.

Another hour of apologizing went by before we reached a settlement. In review, three things happened that day:

1) She swore she'd never bring such an item home again.

2) My son got his first..and last...taste of fruit roll ups that morning.

3) We agreed never to mess around again while he was home.

So my son, if you're reading this, this explains way we begged you to go stay at grandma's once in awhile and more importantly, why you're an only child.

The Inevitable Question

As I write this, I'm lounging poolside at a luxury hotel in Beverly Hills, a scant 45 miles from my home in Orange County. Arguably, the OC has some pretty great hotels about which I often speak, but a change of scenery was in order.

Right now, my blog is read mostly by friends, some of whom I've known for 30 years. Most are on my Facebook and I'm proud to say, some of them were exes with whom I rekindled friendships. That's more a testament to their forgiveness than my value as a friend, but I'm proud nonetheless.

What prompted this retreat in the midst of a work week was a need to clear my head. Ironically, I'm at a place that any Hamster would enjoy being, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

I'm pontificating the remarks by friends that maybe I'm approaching this wrong. Maybe I'm single because I pursue women that are wrong for me.

Although I've penned nearly 30 posts as of this writing, the truth is that I've dated over 50 women. Many of them will never make this blog because they simply weren't Hamsters. We dated a couple of times or a for few months and as often happens, both parties realize they're not right for each other. Sometimes it ends well, sometimes it doesn't and sometimes, it just ends.

I've had four serious relationships from 1991 to 2012 ranging from 18 months to five years. The first two ended because we grew apart or wanted/needed different things. A third ended because I came in believing I would be a "rescuer." When it did end, I realized that such patterns need to be broken and my next relationship was with a woman who, on the surface, didn't need rescuing. But that one didn't work out either, despite my attempt to date a non Hamster.

In between those relationships, I dated. Using my three date rule for mutual evaluation yielded many of the stories about which I've been blogging. But there were several women in the mix that weren't worthy of a mention only because there was nothing bad or quirky about them.

What readers may have been seeing was a propensity for me to date mostly very pretty women, several years my junior and some with seemingly insignificant jobs, goals or questionable values.

What did they have that drew me in? The answer has eluded me, which is why I canceled a date with a stunning young woman who was probably way out of my league anyway...at least visually.

While many of my stories are written to focus on the funny side of them, I've left out the substance of more meaningful conversations I've had with some that led me to accept a date with them in the first place.

But I digress.

I know what I am and I know what I'm not. I'm not Brad Pitt, so I have no delusions about my looks. But most would say that intellectually, I can hold my own. It's my sense of humor that opens doors for me and if anyone learns anything about the opposite sex, whether male or female, learn that laughter keeps you young and makes you appealing.

And therein lies a clue: most of the women I date laugh at my jokes but aren't really funny themselves. So what draws me to them? Is it solely Physical attraction?

Sure, I've dated plain or average women but by and large, their personalities were pretty average. But there was something else that kept me from jumping in.

I recently dated one that was smart, funny, sarcastic, accomplished and interesting. We connected at a deeper level. But during my evaluation process, I felt myself liking her as a friend more than a romantic interest. This girl was fairly attractive, but maybe not flashy. Not that I need flashy, but I started to wonder if I had become what I loathe: a person who places looks above all else.

Many might be saying it's a cop out to assert that chemistry is based solely on looks. Initially, I think attraction is, but it's also a sliding scale. If I were 350 lbs and more troll like, I'm willing to bet that the women I'd accept look a lot different than the ones I date. But deep down, I'd still want Mila Kunos. Anyone who argues that looks aren't important is a flat out liar.

It occurred to me that while I want someone REASONABLY attractive, my "acceptable" range is probably a lot wider than you think.

With my ex fiancé, she was sweet, decent looking, accomplished and laughed at my jokes. For awhile, it was enough. But when she couldn't carry on a conversation about anything other than gossip on Facebook, that was a clue. The rest of that story is elsewhere on this blog, but suffice to say that in my head, I was evaluating her accomplishments and common travel interests as compatibility.

In short, her looks were debatable insofar as the primary motivation. But once I dug deeper, I saw we weren't a good match.

Ultimately though, I do look at things like intellect, accomplishments, personality, humor, wit, compassion, values, integrity, how we'll she fits in my life and vice versa...everyone does this. And everyone's scale is different.

As of late, it's clear I've been placing too much weight on one side of the scale. I've dated age-inappropriate women, making excuses internally about their poor jobs, lack of integrity, whacky values and such. Many of these women have traded on their looks for a long time...and I've been an enabler.

No more.

I've resolved to look at women closer to my age. I'll still place some value on physical attraction, but ultimately, only a deeper connection can only be realized if I focus on the person inside.

And deep down, I knew this all along. This is why I took a break.

To my credit, while looks draw me in, I've long realized that when they're not right for me, it's time to let them go.

So where does that leave me? The days of dating women that are ten years my junior are officially over. I'm looking at no one under 39 and not over 49.

Fortunately, I still prefer Asian women and they tend to age well.

Is it wrong to want the total package? A strong mutual attraction, integrity, character, ambition, success and loyalty?

Does a good, in attractive woman living in a mobile home not deserve a good man, too?

My point is, it's against human nature to settle. But there's a difference between settling and being realistic.

While I put on a good front about dating only the super beautiful type of woman, the truth is that long hair and a playful smile and sexy eyes are what really draws me in. A cute butt, cup size, nose shape, none of that factors in for me. It's all about what I see in their smile. If you look back at every woman I've dated, they all had that in common.

My goal now is to find a complete woman behind such a smile...and maybe find my own smile in the process.

Thank you, my friends, for a dose of reality and for your support.

Meet the Twins

I once had a job at a California ski resort. I was young, foot loose and fancy free. It was a great time in my life and although it only lasted a semester, I made a life time of memories.

At this resort, the other ski school instructors used to come in on Monday and brag about the tourist chicks they had "bagged" over the weekend. I found it repulsive, but some of the stories were actually pretty amusing because almost all of them ended in drama.

I never thought I'd have a story of my own to tell.

My intentions with a pretty young tourist named Kristen were quite honorable. Our affair started about two months before I finished my job assignment when we met at a local watering hole. After spending the evening talking, I felt very close to her and really, really liked her. This was in the days before email and cell phones were prevalent, but after spending the entire weekend together skiing, dining and hanging out, we vowed to stay in touch.  Her parents owned a cabin up there so she assured me that she'd be back before I left.

True to her word, two weeks before it was time for me to get back to school, she paid me a visit at work. At first, I thought I was seeing double. In fact, this time she had brought her twin sister with her. Her sister Susan was the spitting image of Kristen except that her cup size was much, much larger. There was no mistaking them, by looks or by demeanor. While Kristen was a sweet girl, her sister Susan was a party animal. At 21, they both had clearly different lives behind them and ahead of them. But they were about to share their first man experience...with me.

Allow me to explain.

This, being one of the last weekends of the season meant that the town was packed full of visitors. There were tons of parties going on and our little group consisted not just of Kristen, Susan and I, but my roomies and a couple of other girls that came up with the twins. Everyone I knew was at this party except my good friend Mike, who had found another party to attend.

As the night progressed, the liquor flowed liberally. We were all bar hopping but eventually, Kristen's friends really wanted to check out Whiskey Creek. I was getting tired and Susan was already sloppy drunk, so Kristen asked me to take Susan back to the cabin and she would follow shortly, as she felt obligated to her other friends. After all, it was only two more hours to closing time for the bars, so I figured the night was winding down.

The party continued back at the cabin, at least for Susan and my roomies and at some point, I adjourned to a room to lay down. I must've fallen asleep, but I do vaguely remember someone crawling into bed with me. I remember this, because she was topless and I felt the press of co ed flesh against my back.

Assuming this was Kristen's flesh was momentarily arousing. After all, we hadn't been intimate yet but I just chalked up her casual approach to the alcohol. Either way, I was too pooped to pop, so I fell back asleep.

What seemed like just a few moments later, I woke up when someone turned on the lights and started screaming 'what the f!@k!!'   I was tanked up pretty good but I could still recognize that it was Kristen standing in the doorway. In a rare moment of sobriety, I turned to my left to see who had crawled into bed with me. You guessed it: Susan. Who, as it turns out, sleeps nude by the way.

I was in my skivvies and I leapt from the bed to chase a crying Kristen down the wrought iron spiral staircase. She was inconsolable.

Susan was no help either, as she really didn't remember what happened. I knew nothing had happened but when the evidence suggests otherwise, who could blame Kristen?  After hours of groveling and pleading with her, I thought I had her convinced that nothing sinister had transpired. By 9AM, I thought we were back on track. It was at this time that Susan came staggering into the kitchen for some coffee wearing nothing but sweat pants. Her breasts exposed for all to see, she was clearly very proud of "the twins" as she called them. Kristen took exception to this and since I needed to get ready for work, I excused myself.

This being Sunday, I realized I only had a few hours left with Kristen. I finally ran into her around 3PM, just as the day was winding down. It was awkward and as she said her goodbyes, I figured I'd never see her again.

As I walked to the bus at quitting time, I saw Susan. She came up to me and basically told me not to mind her prudish sister. 'Kristen was always uptight about sex. That's why she's still a virgin.' That remark certainly warranted follow up questions, but I refrained. As she got ready to leave, she glanced back and barked 'you know where to find me in case Kristen and you don't work out.'

As big a compliment as that should've been, it took me all of 1 minute to resolve that in my head. How the hell do you date one sister after dating the other? And who exactly is picking up the phone at the house when that guy calls? Too awkward, too weird and way beyond my comfort zone. Nevertheless, they drove out of town and I figured that was the end of it.

After what should've been an epic weekend, I dragged myself to work on Monday morning, downtrodden and sullen.

As we stood in the locker room donning our Descent ski sweaters and skin tight spandex ski pants, Mike, who was missing from the party walked in.  Smiling from ear to ear, the next couple of minutes were spent with him bragging about his "big score" over the weekend. High fives ensued but eventually, the conversation turned to me when Mike asked, 'Hey Craig, did you see the twins?'

"Yes Mike, I did. And apparently, I can see them again whenever I want." I slammed my locker door shut and walked out.

To my surprise, a few months later, Kristen did call me. We ended up dating again and things seemed to be progressing. It did work out for awhile with Kristen , but we were both in school and we eventually fell out of touch. For those scant few months, we had some fun times together, but never could bring ourselves to consummate the relationship.

The unspoken issue never came up again and although it didn't work out, I'll never forget the twins. Either pair.

Scarred for Life

In a relationship, there are two ways you can be scarred: emotionally, or physically. If you're lucky, the damage is emotional. If you're like me, you'll be scarred in both ways.

Such was the case with a beautiful young Swedish exchange student we'll call "Marika" I met shortly after graduation. She was living with my buddy's girlfriend's family and since he and I were close, it was only a matter of time before we all started hanging out together. At the time, I lived in Valencia, California which was a smallish town back in the 1980's. As such, everyone knew everyone and you pretty much dated in your own social circle. There was no internet, cell phones didn't exist yet and the concept of social media was as foreign as abstinence is to a Catholic high school girl.

Inevitably, I fell for Marika and given there wasn't much competition, she was eventually swayed by my charms. I actually had a little game back in the day but even so, I knew she was way out of my league. She was everything you ever heard about Swedish co eds. A stunning blonde, blue eyes and built like a Playboy bunny. But she was actually sweet, nice and had a great sense of humor. She kept telling me how much I looked like George Michael, which may have had some truth to it, but as long as she wanted to jump me, I didn't care if she thought I looked like Mick Jagger.

I was determined to win her.  I wined and dined her, brought her flowers and took the time to get to know her. After about four months of this, she finally capitulated and a romance blossomed.

What I didn't realize was that this woman had the sexual appetite of a female inmate. Anywhere, anytime, it didn't matter. On a car, in a car, against a car, a phone booth, the bathroom and Burger King, I could have it my way with her just about anytime. A date with her usually left me with hickeys, rug burns or bruises. Thankfully, I was not living at home during this time or my mom certainly would've asked me questions I could've only answered with creepy grins.

Ironically, I was initially reluctant to get involved with Marika as I knew that exchange students eventually must go home and I'd probably never see her again. I was determined to appreciate every moment I had left with her.

One day during Spring Break of her senior year, we went swimsuit shopping to a department store in the Valley.Back in those days, dressing rooms were just becoming co ed and she suggested that I follow her in to one to view the suits all at once so that she didn't have to parade around the department store. Seemed logical to me.

Before we got to the dressing room, she was stopped and told that women are not allowed to try on swimsuits. Making up an excuse, she hid a few in her mix of summer dresses to try on.

I was a little uncomfortable being in the dressing room, as it was a high traffic area and people of all ages were coming and going. Despite this, our romance was new and any excuse to see her naked sounded good to me.

As she peeled off her street clothes to reveal cute little white undergarments, I was having difficulty breathing. When she tried on the first summer dress sans bra, she could tell I was paying full attention. She pressed herself and pushed me up against the wall. As she did so, she flipped up the back of her dress to reveal her best side. If you've ever seen a tanned blonde in white undies, it really is one of the seven wonders of the world.

Within seconds, we were kissing and groping each other. As she reached for my belt, I grabbed her hand and said "are you nuts? Not here!" Her reply was brilliant. She pulled back, leaned against the mirror and got a sad look on her face and said 'I'm only here a few more months.' Good point.

Naturally, with all the blood having left my brain, I was in no position to think logically. The passion resumed and within moments, my pants were down around my high top Vans and we were getting busy. Within seconds, we heard voices...and we froze. An elderly gentleman was entering the stall next store to try on clothes. Mind you, we were already in the act.

Frozen like statues, we waited for what seemed like an eternity. Slowly and quietly, we resumed our activity. After a few moments, we heard heavy breathing coming from the stall next door. We timed our movements in rhythm with the breathing but before long, the breathing turned even heavier. After a moment or two of that, we were sure we were caught when we heard the man utter "Nail her, nail her."

Realizing the jig was probably up, we sped up like rabbits trying to finish the act before all hell broke loose.  In my head, I thought for a moment that the guy was in his still listening to what was going on and "pleasuring himself." I whispered to Marika softly as I paused the passion, "what if he's in there rubbing one out?"  Marika replied 'eeww....that's gross. Can men still do that at that age?'  Always with the jokes, I replied "yes, but it's illegal to do it in public. It's called Assault With a Dead Weapon."

Marika and I giggled but soon, our interlocked anatomy reminded us that we had unfinished business.

Seconds later, the man burst out of his stall and we heard a loud crash. Still muttering "nail her, nail her!" he was quickly joined by (I assume) his wife who exclaimed "oh my God!" just as Marika pretty much proclaimed the same phrase.

We hurriedly tried to get dressed but in the process, I caught "myself" in my zipper. It was a pretty severe cut too, as I was bleeding pretty noticeably from "down under." As we tried to exit the dressing stall, the door was partially blocked by the man's wife who was kneeling over her fallen husband. In her hand, she had one of those asthma inhaler thingies.  Turns out he was having an asthma attack and was asking for his INHALER.

Right about that time, the store security guard rushed in, followed by a couple of clerks. Mind you, I had blood spatters all down the front of my pants and some serious "swelling" that hadn't subsided, if you know what I mean.

An older woman store clerk noticed this and I quickly made the excuse that I had caught myself in my zipper and my girlfriend was trying to help me get unstuck. Whether or not she bought didn't matter, we just wanted to get out of there. Marika, being a good samaritan, leaned over the man to try and provide some assistance. Unfortunately, in doing so, she exposed her breast and his condition worsened. Realizing we were probably doing more harm than good, I grabbed her arm and assisted we leave.

We tried to exit discreetly, but over the PA came the announcement 'we need Security to women's swimwear.'  Panicked at the notion that we may have been accessories to something, we sped up our pace to a fast walk, then a run.

We basically fled the store like shoplifters and made our way to my car in the parking garage. Driving away, we had a good laugh, but the bleeding hadn't quite subsided. Marika, being the caregiver she was, offered to 'kiss it and make it better,' but I figured we'd had enough fun for the day.

In time, the relationship fizzled as she moved away and while the emotional scar eventually healed, the physical scar is a reminder of my sexy exchange student experience. To this day, to prevent having to explain myself, any time I get intimate, I make sure the lights are off. No one knows this about me except maybe my doctor...and now, pretty much everyone reading my blog. Fortunately, with my recent vasectomy, I can blame it on that...and probably will. Think anyone will catch on?