Episode 53: Friendship – Show Notes

old cowboy

In this episode of Femoir: The Podcast, I start with a story about my grandpa saying, “I’m particular about my company.” From all the pictures I’ve seen, he looked a lot like this guy.

I talked about how I didn’t experience a lot of cliques in the schools I went to while growing up. Those schools were Sycamore School and BJPS, for anyone interested.

I also talk about how grateful I am to some of the friends in my life. For anyone who missed it, here are some of the articles I’ve written recently:

My Bop, Love Letter, Making Dreams Come True, Lucky Lady

I also referenced my web series I’m filming that so many friends are involved with. It’s called The Other Client List. Check it out!

Don’t forget to subscribe for free on iTunes!

Gym Single

heartbreakI need you guys to help me get through this.

For those of you following my gym love saga (catch up by reading this and this), you know I’ve been in love with a man I never spoke to. My dear, sweet, silent gym boyfriend.

I realized this morning… it’s been months since I’ve seen either my gym boyfriend or my weekend gym fling. I don’t know what happened.

It must be me. I’ve changed. Like, literally… I changed gyms I went to in the morning because of traffic.

I thought my gym boyfriend would follow me back to the gym we originally met at. He didn’t.

Does that mean it’s over?

I’m not gonna give up on this without a fight, guys. Meaning my new gym is back up and running and charging 50 cents every day for parking. Which adds up and makes it not worth it (at that price I might as well upgrade my monthly rate and get access to the ritzy Beverly Hills gym down the street…).  So I think I’m going to switch back to the other gym. The parking is a little more stressful in the morning, but at least it’s free. And I have to make sure I’m there early to avoid traffic.

But all that’s worth it. Because I think that’s where my gym boyfriend has continued to workout. And I miss him.

I’m not ready to give up on us, guys. Not yet.

I’m switching starting next week. I’ll keep you updated. I know so many of you are very worried. Thank you for your concern. Let’s all just be strong and get through this together.

Single Women vs. Tinder

 …the following is a transcript from a make-believe court session for a case some single women have brought against the free dating application Tinder. 

The courtroom is filled with chaos. The lawyer for Single Women has just made a strong case that the application causes people to be too judgmental, too superficial, and too narcissistic. Based on the uproar, most people watching agree with this opinion and think Tinder is an unacceptable dating application.

The judge waves her gavel several times and calls for order. Eventually, the courtroom quiets down. She calls forth the defense counsel. The lawyer for Tinder is in her late 20s, clearly hard-working, well-dressed woman. As she stands, she sets down her phone she had just been using and a hush falls over the courtroom. She smiles, looks around, and begins to make her arguments.

Ladies of the court. I understand where my opponents are coming from. I really do. An application like Tinder can seem to bring out the worst in people, causing them to make snap judgements about each other and to go out on dates based on little to no information about the other party. I get that it seems this way.

But let me share with you my own personal Tinder adventure.

I work constantly. As you can imagine, being a successful lawyer is a full-time job. I dedicate a lot of time and energy to my career. I don’t have the time right now in my life to go out to a bar every single night of the week and sit around hoping some man I find attractive will be there, come up and talk to me, and find out we have things in common. The odds aren’t in my favor for that. They’re in nobody’s favor.

But when I use Tinder, I can automatically see other men in my area who are interested in dating. I can look at their pictures and determine if I like what I see- both the type of man they look like and the types of pictures they choose to put up. And I can make that judgement easily by simply swiping my finger one way or another.

Yes, I said judgement. We are all constantly judging each other. If a man comes up to me at a bar, I immediately judge him. Even if I say I’m not doing it, thousands of years of evolution are ingrained in me to immediately assess within seconds if I’m interested in this person as a potential mate. Tinder just allows us to do it more quickly and more efficiently, so we can spread our dating net out even wider.

I only have the capability to talk to people who have also said that they might be interested in me. This way, I don’t have to waste my time or energy pursuing men who aren’t interested in me. Again- it allows for more efficiency so I don’t have to waste my precious time.

And my opponent talked about how Tinder forces you to be superficial. I completely disagree. It doesn’t force you to do anything. If all you want to do is scan people in your area and see who thinks you’re attractive by seeing how many matches you can get, you can do that. If you are just feeling low and want to be reminded that there truly are plenty of fish in the dating sea, you can just collect matches and be reminded that you’re beautiful. If you want to send flirty messages with relative strangers with no strings attached, you can do that. If you want to actually meet people and go on dates you barely had to do any work to set up, you can do that. If you want to meet an actual potential mate, you can do that. If you just want to look at random men’s instagram pages, you can do that.

It doesn’t force you to be anything. It’s whatever you want it to be.

We’re expecting more and more of our potential partners these days. We’re living longer and romance has taken over our narrative. In the old days, you married the first suitor that came to your door. And you stayed married because you didn’t have any other options. And you only lived until like 25 years old. Now we go out hoping that in a sea of billions of people, we might happen to accidentally run into our soulmate who be our everything for the next 70ish years.

I’m a practical woman, so I’m not buying it. I want to meet someone who has interests in common with me. I want to meet someone who has friends in common with me. I want to meet someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously. And I want to have options. And I want to do it all without taking away too much time from my own career and personal goals. Tinder allows me to do just that.

Yes, it’s different from our notion of dating in the past. But dating has changed immensely throughout the years anyway. This is just another evolution of dating. And it’s not the end. It just an option. One of many now available to us lucky modern women.

And all practicalities aside, Tinder is fun and it’s great for your self esteem. It’s hilarious to see some of the types of men and the pictures they choose to put online. And if you’re sitting in your sweat pants eating chocolate ice cream alone on a Saturday night, you can still feel beautiful because someone on Tinder decided to “like” you and create a match.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s an all-around win.

The court is silent for a moment as the women look at each other. Tinder’s attorney takes one last look around and begins speaking again.

And one last thing. I was in relationships for a long time. Their constant failure had me feeling low. My self-esteem had taken a beating through constantly putting up with behaviors I shouldn’t have. My latest one had left me absolutely heartbroken. I didn’t know what I wanted. And I was overwhelmed by how to re-enter the dating pool after such a long break from it.

So I joined Tinder. Just for fun. I didn’t want to take the time to create a more extensive online profile. I was open to anyone or anything.

Immediately on Tinder, I started getting “matches” that made me feel good and gave me hope for the future. I went on some dates with men I already knew I thought were cute. Most of them were duds. Some were fine but not spectacular. But one date I went on was fabulous. I liked him immediately. He made me laugh. He was everything I had asked the universe for. We’re still dating. He takes me out, shows me off, and makes me laugh. And I met him by taking a chance simply swiping right on Tinder.

What will happen with this relationship? Who knows. Only time will tell. But I do know that I’m dating him because I want to be dating him. I know there are plenty of other fish in the sea. I’ve dated many of them. None of them are like him. But I’m sure there are other wonderful ones out there, waiting for me on Tinder if this one doesn’t work.

I’m in a healthy mindset for once in my life. And that’s thanks to Tinder.

I rest my case.

The young lawyer sat down. Looking around the courtroom, everyone was looking at their phones and using their thumbs to swipe pictures either left or right.

Tinder wins.

13 Signs He’s Not Good Enough For You

This year has been a roller coaster for me and many of my very close girlfriends in the world of romance. In an effort to add a small sliver of advice for women about my own experience in finding “Mr. Right,” I give you yet another list of things to think about in your search. Enjoy.

1. He makes you feel bad at any point before, during, or after your first date.

It doesn’t get any better than the first 24 hours before and after meeting someone. If you felt even a little bad then, it’s only gonna get worse.

Drop him like it’s hooooooooot.

2. He seems like a loser.

That’s because he probably is.

Find a winner.

3. He’s boring.

What would you rather do, hang out with a boring dude that makes you want to stick icicles in your eyes to prove you can still feel or watch Netflix by yourself in your sweats? Netflix every time, baby.

Grab the ice cream, cheap beer and your fat pants. You’re about to have the happiest night of your life.

4. You think you’re better than him.

That’s because you probably are. You should respect your significant other as an equal. If he doesn’t earn that respect, get rid of him.

Sorry. No time to date you. Too busy being way more awesome than you.

5. He thinks he’s better than you.

Gross. He’s gonna act like he’s doing you a favor by dating you. Do yourself a favor and dump his ass.

I can’t go out tonight or ever again. I’m too busy doing anything else.

6. Your friends unanimously agree he’s not good enough for you.

That’s because he’s not. Your friends love you and want you to be happy. They’ve seen you at your highest and your lowest. They were there before this guy, they’ll be there after this guy. If they don’t like him, it’s for a very good reason.


7. He’s shitty to the other women in his life.

He talks poorly to his momma? He’s condescending to his sister? And… you think he’s gonna be nice to you? Yeah. Right. Good luck with that.

If this were Tinder, I would swipe you to the left in a heartbeat.

8. He doesn’t have his shit together.

You can’t fix that. Don’t fall in love with the potential. You’ll waste your time and energy wanting him to be better and he’ll resent you for wanting him to change. Let him go and get it together. If he’s lucky, he can do it and you may consider giving it another shot. More likely, you let him go and three weeks later meet someone who has his shit together who’s absolutely awesome in every way. And shitless guy misses out. And that’s life.

I’d rather have a guy who thinks his shit doesn’t stink than a guy who doesn’t even know where his shit is.

9. You argue all the time.

That’s probably because you don’t have anything worthwhile to actually communicate about. Likely because of #3 above. No matter what the reason, find someone who enjoys much more pleasant activities than arguing.

That’s an A and B relationship so you should C your way out of it.

10. He talks about himself nonstop.

You’re not that great. Stop. Tell me about your projects and your passions and your ideas. And then ask me about mine. And then let’s both shut up. Deal? Deal.

Blah blah blah I’m bored bored bored.

11. He doesn’t introduce you to his friends.

That’s because he either doesn’t have any or he’s trying to hide you for some reason. If you’ve been dating for a long time and you’re never invited when he’s hanging out with his friends casually, move on. He’s a jerk who’s hiding something. Find someone who will be proud and excited to show you off.

This one hits a little too close to home for me to have a hilarious quip.

12. He’s passive aggressive.

Here’s the only time I will ever put up with passive aggression: When my husband has had a long and stressful day earning money to help support our beautiful family and he’s exhausted and stressed and I, unknowingly, push a button that makes him accidentally snap at me passive aggressively. I will bite my tongue and let it slide. But we will discuss later when he’s feeling better. And we will both apologize. And that’s it. Otherwise, just tell me how you feel. Don’t beat around the bush, manipulate, or belittle me.

Plenty of fish in the sea who won’t be passively fishy to you.

13. He says he isn’t good enough for you.

That’s because he’s not.

Find someone who is.

Gym Boyfriend

You guys. I totally have a boyfriend. A real one.

At least… he’s totally real. The boyfriend part might be a stretch. At least in his mind. Since he doesn’t really know I exist.

Let me explain.

I’ve been trying to go to the gym at about the same time every day in an effort to create a better routine for myself. I started going around the same time every morning. I did this before my favorite gym closed. While I was over there, I noticed a guy who was getting personal training around this time of day. I mostly noticed him because he boxes and does intense exercises with his trainer in the same room where I’m trying to stretch, relax, and act like I’m bettering myself. He made me feel bad for working so hard, so I didn’t like him. But isn’t that how every great romantic comedy starts?

I probably saw him twice before my gym closed down and I had to start going at the same time  to another nearby gym.

And you guys… He’s made the move to this gym, too.

I was so excited to see a familiar face from my old gym that I think I may have started thinking we were closer than we are. Because now while I’m doing my stretches in the other gym’s multi-purpose room and he’s working really hard with his trainer, I feel like we’re bonding. Like it’s a date or something.

He’s like super strong and sweaty. I like a man who works hard. He doesn’t look up much from his workout because he’s so focused. But I like a man who can focus. He usually wears the same outfit or variations on it. I like a man who keeps his style simple.

I even told my girlfriends about him. I told them that we meet at the same time every morning for our gym dates. So far it’s Monday through Thursday. I’m not sure about Fridays. I’ve missed our last few dates. Shame on me, I know. I’m sure he has been like totally heartbroken.

One day, I walked to the women’s locker room and accidentally caught him as he was walking out of the men’s locker room right across the hall. I smiled and blushed. I didn’t want him to think I was following him! But I couldn’t miss out on my opportunity for contact! He made eye contact with me then looked away. I marked the date on my calendar because I know he’ll appreciate me keeping track of stuff we need to celebrate like that. You know, once we’re married and everything.

I saw his trainer last Saturday when I was at the gym. I think his trainer may actually be starting to recognize me. Which is embarrassing… though I’m not quite sure why. But it is. He was not training my gym boyfriend that day. He was training some other lady. We made eye contact, but I quickly looked away. I didn’t want him telling my gym boyfriend that I’ll just make eye contact with anyone! I’m totally taken, dude. Back off.

I highly suggest everyone get a gym significant other. It’s great motivation to get yourself to the gym. Then you, too, can be as happy as I clearly am in my delusion.

Black Kitty

This morning I got up at 5:48 am. If you don’t know me personally, you may not know how odd that is. I went to bed around midnight and woke up at 5:48 am. Which, on west-coast time is 2:48 am. I’m on east coast time right now because I’m home visiting my family in Indianapolis. Normally, it takes me at least 20 minutes to get out of bed. If I get up early like this, I fall right back asleep once I realize what time it is.

But for some reason this morning, I couldn’t.

It was the type of wake up where you are 200% awake. I’ve gone through days where at my most awake, I felt less awake than I did this early morning. It was like the caffeine from my afternoon double shot of espresso hit me all at once. Except that I hadn’t had a double shot of espresso. At least not in the real world. Maybe in dreamland. But I’m pretty sure I was just grocery shopping in my dream. Come to think of it, maybe my dream was so boring, my mind was like “ANYTHING ELSE” and made me wide awake. Who knows.

I puttered around my house hoping to catch my dad before he went to work. Too late. It was totally dark out but his car was already gone. I saw a cat wandering around our front yard. I walked back upstairs to try and sleep again but couldn’t.

I decided to go out on the front porch and pet the cat.

My parents have been adopted by a stray black cat. In an (I believe fruitless) attempt to not become attached to it, they have not given it an official name and just call it “Black Kitty” or “BK.”

My family has never bought a cat, but we’ve had two in my lifetime. We choose dogs. We are chosen by cats.

I’ve heard tales of BK’s friendliness and cuddliness for months. I was actually excited to meet him. Because he’s still technically a stray, I was a little worried maybe he’d move on by the time I came around. But, sure enough, when we pulled into the driveway at midnight from the airport on Tuesday, there was Black Kitty on the porch waiting to greet us.

So I thought I’d go outside to let him keep me company. It’d be a win/win. He gets attention, which he wanted, and I get another warm body that’s awake, which I wanted.

I sat on the porch and looked for him but didn’t see him. I called for him a little bit but he wasn’t around. And he’s a cat. They don’t come when you call them. Especially when you don’t have a name beyond a basic description.

I thought about going back inside, then I heard the crickets. I forgot how loud the crickets are in Indiana in the darkness. So I sat down, smelled the fresh, humid, morning air and listened to the familiar sounds of the midwest in the early morning hours.

I love my new home, Los Angeles. I love the smells and sights and sounds there. But they’re different. They bring out different emotions.

Indiana smells have a thousand past memories attached to them. I just sat there taking them each in with every breath. I sat on my porch that I’ve known my entire life and looked around. It was so peaceful. I know this place. I know these smells. I know these people. I understand it.

It was that perfect twilight time just before the world wakes up and corrupts the quiet. Very few people (like my dad) are up and about during these hours. I am rarely up during these hours. It was a treat and I let myself enjoy every moment.

I still wanted to pet that cat. I thought that I could enjoy the quiet smells and sounds with a warm cat in my lap. I heard the sound of another cat meowing in the distance. I figured it was Black Kitty upset nobody was around to pet it. “I’m right here, silly!” I kept thinking and called out for him a couple times so he knew. But he didn’t come. Because he’s a cat. Who isn’t mine. And doesn’t know me. Didn’t stop me from being insulted, of course.

I stayed on the porch for a long time thinking I’d go inside again when the crickets sounds died down. If the cat didn’t want attention, I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him. But, I really liked the cricket sounds and wasn’t in a hurry to go inside and miss the symphony. So I just stayed there, took deep breaths, and got lost in my own thoughts and world.

As the sun started to rise, I came to terms with the fact that I would not get my alone time to bond with the supposedly friendly black cat. I wished my parents would just let him come inside already so I could have pet him on the couch and fallen back asleep. They won’t let him yet because they’re not ready to commit to him. They just got out of a cat-lationship. They know hurt it can cause in the end. The timing has to be right for them to decide to get another cat. Even though this cat has clearly already decided he’s family, my parents feed him, give him treats, and spend hours petting him…they’re not ready to commit to another cat.

I respect that approach. I tend to go head first into anything and everything. My personality is like, “Oh, sweet a cat has been here for more than an hour- he must want to stay! Let’s let him in the house and love the shit out of him until he tears up everything and runs away because he’s feral and wants to be free!”

My parents have been around the block. They understand these things better. They know that committing to a cat is a huge emotional investment. They know the heartache it can cause. They know the responsibility it entails. They understand the depth of the investment. I take longer to catch onto these things.

I thought about all that as I got ready to go inside. I respected their patience and realized I need to employ it myself in more ways in my life. Just because a cat is around and gives you attention and clearly thinks it wants in the house, doesn’t mean it’s the right timing yet to let it in the house. When the time is right, it will be obvious to everyone.

See, I get scared the cat will change its mind and run away. I feel like you’ve got to “strike while the iron is hot” and act on impulse. I’m convinced if some other home sees this friendly cat and they let it in, we lose the chance to have a sweet cat.

But my parents are okay with that. They can love and let go. They understand that the cat is free to go wherever it wants. He’s not our cat. Not yet. If it chooses to stick around, and they decide the timing is right, he will become our cat. But until then, he’s free to do whatever he wants. He may join me on the porch or he may continue to chase mice three doors down. He does whatever he wants. He doesn’t have to answer to me. I’m not committed to him. He’s not my cat. I’m not his owner.

I’m starting to understand that concept better now. In a lot of areas of my life.

As the sun came up and the crickets got quieter, I continued to hear that cat complaining a few doors down and I thought “Well, I tried, kitty. Maybe next time.” Just as I stood up to go inside, Black Kitty joined me on the porch. He wasn’t the cat that was complaining. He was just around somewhere quietly chillin, doing his own thing.

He seemed excited to have someone to pet him. He knew why I was there. And let me tell you guys, that is a friendly, sweet, cuddly cat. He lets you pet his belly. A stray cat that lets you pet his belly! Amazing!

I think I enjoyed petting him even more because the timing was better. I had the right attitude about it. I didn’t need to pet a cat for company. I enjoyed a quiet morning to myself and had let go of needing to pet him. I pet him because I wanted to.

Though I thought I could concentrate on both the smells and sounds outside and the cat, it turns out I got completely one-track-minded when the cat was around and only focused on him.

And when I went inside a while later, leaving him on the porch, I wasn’t scared he was going to run away and I’d never see him again. I was just glad I got to spend the time that I did with him. I was glad he showed up when he did. I wouldn’t have gotten the quiet me time to take in everything if he had been there earlier. I didn’t realize what a distraction he was. A wonderful distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

Next time I see him, I’m going to pet him because I want to. And he wants me to. Not because I need to. He certainly doesn’t need me. And that’s a-ok.

I’m going to do it when I’m willing to focus on him instead of my own world. I won’t pretend I can multi-task, because I obviously can’t. He has to enrich my world, not become the sole focus of it.

Maybe he’ll be there when I head out again. Maybe he’ll wait for me when I get back from my adventures. Maybe he’ll have moved on. No matter what the outcome, I enjoyed the heck out of our meeting and the time we got to spend together.

Almost as much as I enjoy my quiet me time when he’s not around.

Either way, I’m grateful.

And sleepy. Very, very sleepy.


Oh- and I’m glad he wasn’t that loud, needy, whiny cat a few doors down. I ain’t got time for that b.s.





I didn’t run the race

Yesterday was America’s Finest City Half Marathon.

There were two medals there waiting for me and a packet with my name on it- all that went unclaimed.

Even though I accepted a couple weeks ago that I would not be running this race, it’s still sad to come to terms with. The race is over. I can’t change my mind now. There’s no going back.

I know this was the right decision. I know in my heart, soul, and gut that there are a number of factors that I would have had to push way too hard- and likely hurt myself- to make that race reality. I’m really happy with what I chose to do this past weekend instead of doing the race. I know in the end, it’s the right decision. But I had a lot of time and training invested in that race. I had already visualized the volunteers at the end putting both medals on my exhausted but happy body. I had looked at the race course and thought about how each mile would feel and how I’d pose for the pictures this time. I’d even picked out my outfit.

Like I said, I had a lot invested in this race.

I’m only human, so I didn’t know the best way to go about not running this. Do I try and sell my ticket online at a discount so I can recover some of the costs? Do I call them ahead and talk about my injury and how I wouldn’t be able to run? Do I go anyway and pick up my packet so I can at least get the t-shirt?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to do these things. I don’t know the best way. I don’t know if I did the best thing. I just distracted myself in other work and -though I accepted I wouldn’t be running- I didn’t give up my registration because I think I held out a sliver of hope that maybe my foot would magically heal and all my issues would go away and I could do it after all.

But that didn’t happen. And it can’t happen now. It’s passed. Things change. There’s no going back. I will not get that T-shirt or those medals or pose for those race pics in the perfect outfit I chose.

And that’s ok. But may take a bit to accept.

And I think I’m still taking about the race…right?

You Get Back What You Put Out

I hear people talk about how they’re not getting enough out of a  place/person/opportunity/job/whatever.

Now, I totally understand that there are certain relationships and phases and places that we totally give ourselves to and get nothing in return. Believe me. I understand that. Believe. You. Me. I get it. We’ll get to that here in a moment.

But I truly believe at the core of my being, that you only get back what you put out into the world.

For example, I hear people complain about Los Angeles all the time. All. The. Time. There’s too much traffic. It’s too dangerous. You have to drive too much. It’s smoggy. People are shallow. It’s too expensive. Wah, wah, wah.

Lots of these things are true. Or at least they can be if you choose to focus on them. If you don’t like Los Angeles- or wherever you’re living- actually evaluate why. And if it’s irreconcilable, find somewhere that meets your needs better. You’ve got an internet. Use it.

Sure, I’ve had my ups and downs living in this city. Because that’s life. And you get both ups and downs. But overall, I love this place. So much. It makes my little soul sing. I can picture different neighborhoods I want to live in. I have restaurants I want to be a regular at. I listen to people talk about preschools and take notes for my kids someday (in the wayyyyy future). It’s a beautiful paradise. The weather is absolutely amazing. The people are driven and focused. The best entertainers in the world call this place home. You can find really genuine, amazing, loving, supportive people. It’s my heart’s home.

I love Los Angeles. I’ve done enough living to know what I want from a city- what I can handle, what I can’t handle, etc. I know that LA’s strengths are really important to me and it’s weaknesses aren’t a big deal. As a result, I freaking love it. That’s not the case for everyone. I get it.

I’ve created an awesome community for myself out here filled with talented, hilarious, positive, incredible people. And I’ve done it by getting off my ass, embracing the opportunities around me, and expecting to meet awesome, like-minded people. Sure, I’ve met some duds. So be it. I don’t dwell in the shit. That would just be shitty. (teeheeheeeeeee)

Whatever you expect to encounter when you wake up in the morning is exactly what you will encounter. We create our own story lines and realities in our head based on our pre-conceived notions of the world around us. So if you expect to love a place and expect to find happiness and opportunity and great people, you’ll find it. If you tell a place you love it- and love it with all your being- it will love you back. Even if it sometimes shows it in a funny way you don’t understand at the time.

Worst case scenario, you give a noun (person/place/thing) your everything for as long as you possibly can and it doesn’t give you anything back. And you realize you’re all out of energy to invest in said noun. You re-evaluate, move on, and learn from the experience. And for the rest of your life, you don’t have to live with the regret that you held back or didn’t try your darndest. Odds are, there was something more wonderful waiting for you around the corner anyway.

So I guess what I’m saying is in a roundabout and rambly way is… put out.


Stairs in Pairs

My guy and I sometimes workout together.

I know- it’s so healthy and adorable it’s gross.

Yesterday, we ran stair sprints together. He typically does more anaerobic lifting with only supplemental sprints like these. And when I’m visiting him and don’t have to do a specific training run for a race, I’ll do it with him.

It’s pretty exhausting and adorable.

Our stair sprints yesterday weren’t the most difficult series of sprints we’ve done on stairs. Several months ago, he was on a stairs kick so we did a “pyramid” where we went down and up once, then rested. Then down and up twice, then rest. Building all the way up to I think 6 times, then we worked our way back down from six to 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1. THAT SUCKED.

So in comparison, yesterday wasn’t as bad. We ran down and up six flights of steps then rested 55 seconds on the top. Since I was behind him when we got to the top, I got about 5 seconds less resting up there. We did that for 20 minutes. Stairs are their own beast and I’m here to tell you that if you’re not in shape to run them, it will hurt like hell no matter what.

Plus I had gotten in a mood just before we started so I spent most of the time cussing in my head and out loud.

Calmed down afterwards. No surprise, it happens. And now my legs are sore today. Also no surprise since I pushed hard yesterday.

I guess my point is, healthy body can mean a healthy relationship. So run stairs in pairs and get angry with someone you love!

The White Shirt

I knew that the white shirt I was wearing was a pretty one. I knew because I had just worn it that weekend for the first time in a few years, and the weight that I’d dropped agreed with the new way that this shirt fit me. When I showed up to see my boyfriend wearing that shirt, his eyes got a little bigger and he said “That’s a nice shirt.” From him, that was the equivalent of screaming on top of a mountain “Holy shit-you look really hot.”

So I wore it a few times in a row. Sue me. Doing laundry when you don’t own your own washer and dryer is expensive and I wanted some mileage out of the shirt. On this particular day, I coupled it with my skinny jeans and great brown boots that had a manageable heel and little bit of attitude. And I gotta admit- it did make for an awesome outfit. I looked good. Normally, I look fine. That day I looked good. Really good.

Of course, it was the day my boss asked me to walk a few blocks to the post office to drop off some letters in the afternoon. No big deal. I actually love the excuse to walk somewhere in LA. It makes me feel like I’m back in Chicago again- except without all the stress of having to bring three change of clothing options for any possible weather pattern that may occur in the ten minute walk. So I headed out the door. Great outfit on.

Now keep in mind, this is Los Angeles- a city where women wear heels like sneakers. No…literally. High heels while going running or playing tennis. I know I’ve seen it. The heels are everywhere. And having on a good outfit is expected around these parts. I walked out with my hips a-swaying and my head held high.

So why, then, did I suddenly feel like I was the only female walking through a giant construction site filled with men who haven’t seen a woman in five years? It’s literally a six minute walk to the post office. Within the first minute, I’d been cat called. I was walking by a car repair shop located right next to my day job’s office and I could feel their eyes on me. My boss once suggested I go to this place for an oil change. I tried. I got the creepiest vibes ever and decided to drive 45 minutes one way to my regular shop instead. That’s how much I don’t like this repair shop.

Someone made a whistle sound with their mouth, and I knew I was the likely subject causing it. There was nobody else around and- even though I didn’t want to look over- I could feel the eyes. Another whistle and some laughs or grunts. I couldn’t tell the difference at this distance and I was sure as hell not going to look in their direction to find out. These men creep me out when they’re not looking at me, let alone when they are.

Why the whistle, anyway? Am I a bird that responds to a high-pitched mating noise? Has anyone ever actually responded to a cat call and started a meaningful relationship from it? Has anyone ever started any relationship at all because of it? What’s the point? I can only imagine that women who have extremely low self-esteem would ever respond to that type of interaction with any interest. And the types of women who would respond to that are certainly not the types that men like to have around- needy, insecure, unsure of themselves, constantly needing approval… you get the idea. So, really, no good can come out of that whistle. Why even do it then? I guess I’ll never know.

After the second whistle sound, which secured my notion that these men were- in fact- starting at me, I started to feel self-conscious. I suddenly didn’t know how to properly walk. Was I walking sexy before? Should I change up my walk? How can I somehow change up my walk to retain the confidence I have in myself yet get rid of the supposed sexiness that is causing all this attention in the first place? But I had to do it in a way that doesn’t change any part of my movement at all so as not to let them see that they’re affecting me at all. It’s impossible. Instead of worrying about it too much, I kept my hips a-swaying and my head held high. And I hold out hope that a woman in heels and a dress comes along soon to distract them. Surely this white shirt isn’t powerful enough to detract attention from a woman in heels and a dress. That’s like car repair shop cryptonite.

After pressing on and making it past the car repair shop, I had to cross a six lane street. Yes, I had a light, silly!  I’m not some superhero! If I were I would have just flown above the car repair shop, spit down on the workers so they wondered what hit them and flown away giggling before they could see that it was me!

The problem with crossing this street now is that I’ve already started to feel a little self conscious. I knew I looked pretty good, and those workers made me think I must look like a total babe, so now I had to walk across a line of cars who are stopped, staring forward, and have nothing else to do but watch the slow pedestrian in front of them.

Whatever. I keep my hips-a-swaying and my head held high. I finally make it to the post office. Normally, this would feel like punishment because it is the US Postal Service after all- the place where hope and dreams go to die. But on that particular day, it felt like a relief. With all the freaks and weirdos wandering around in and out of the post office (most of them employees), I could disappear into anonymity again. If you ever want to feel ignored, the post office is the place for you.

I headed inside. Just as I was about to open the door, a young man yelled something at me. He said, “Excuse me?” My hand on the door, I turned around.

I know better than to turn around. I’ve talked to enough weirdos and freaks in my life to know not to engage random people on the street. You very rarely meet a soulmate that way. But I can’t help it. I am, after all, born and raised in the midwest…so of course I turn around.

After living in major cities for a while, though, I have developed one protection mechanism. I have a totally annoyed look on my face. Creepy people hate it when you talk to them with an annoyed look on their face. They’re known for picking up on subtle human social cues. So I turn around, annoyed face, and answer, “Yeah?”

It was a young man who’s a few feet behind me. He’s walking fast to catch up to me. I kept my hand on the door as if to show how I’m clearly busy and on a mission. He said, without really looking up, “Can you do me a favor?” I knew there is no way in hell I’m going to do anything for this man. There’s absolutely nothing I will give him and there’s no way I’m going to be even mildly inconvenienced by him. I’m already giving like three extra seconds of my life to listen to him! Why would I give anything more?

I stood there waiting for him to tell me what the favor is. I didn’t even answer (because I’m such a badass!) but I kept standing there (because I’m such a pushover!). He said, “I just wondered if you could do me a favor… can you go on a date with me?”

For any of you out there thinking “OMG, how cute is that?” Let me first encourage you not to use text talk in your head. It’s very important that- at least in our mindthoughts- we don’t abbrev. If we abbrev everything all the time, we’ll forget what the original meaning before the text talk was. So, rethink that now, please.

For those of you now thinking “Oh my gosh, how cute is that?” Let me thank you for changing up that thought to be more complete, and then tell you a little back story.

About three months ago, when I was first training for my current day job, I went to a grocery store around the corner from the office with the girl who’s job I was taking over. It was a few days before she was moving across the country to be with her boyfriend and start a new life and family with him. When we walked into the grocery store, a young man approached her and said, “Excuse me? Can you do me a favor?” Michelle, the girl who’s job I now have, stopped and said, “What?” and the man looked coyly at her and said, “Uh, can you go on a date with me this weekend?” Michelle laughed and said, “No, I don’t think so.” I answered, “She’ll be across the country living with her very serious boyfriend hopefully fiance at that point so… she’s busy.” He walked away and went about his day. We did the same- after making fun of his “do me a favor” approach for a minute.

Fast forward, and there I was not far from where this original incident took place. And there’s kid asking me the same question in the same way it was previously asked who looks a lot like the guy who approached Michelle in the grocery store. Can I prove it was the same dude? No. I didn’t take a picture or do a sketch of his face afterwards. A picture would have been weird and a sketch would have made him look like every other sketch picture I make…a blob with disproportionate features. Plus…it would have certainly been a lot weirder if I had gone back to the office after the incident and started sketching down the face of this guy for posterity. Who does that?

Having said that, I’ve probably talked to enough creepers in my life that I am likely a person with at least a couple sketches of my face in some back alley box somebody is holding onto for posterity.

Anyway, back to the post office. Ugh. The post office. So gross. So grimey. So sad.

Sorry what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, outside the post office. The dude. And the favor. Which- let me just add- is a pathetic and not charming way of asking any woman out ever. Even if he lucked out and got some really altruistic woman to agree to a date, it would be out of literally doing him a favor. How sad. The whole thing would be out of pity. Not a good way to start. Then again, I’m sure the same woman who respond to cat calling may actually appreciate a man with low enough self esteem to ask for a date out of pity. I guess these people exist. The magic only has to work once.

I didn’t have the heart to both embarrass him by calling him out on using the same line on both me and my friend a few months ago and then rejecting him. So I just said, “No, I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” And walked away. Which is a lie. My boyfriend wouldn’t care. Sure, he wouldn’t be really fond of the fact that I would say “yes” to dates with other guys. That’s obvious. I don’t mean that. I mean that he would not be threatened at all by a man who would be willing to approach a woman and ask her for a date as a “favor” without even really having the confidence to make eye contact. My boyfriend is one of those alpha males, you know. Confident. Aggressive. Few words. Tall. Intelligent. Handsome. Strong. Pure masculinity. Mmmmmm.


Oh. Sorry. I went away for a minute. I’m back now.

Another reason the line I gave was a line was because that wasn’t my reason for rejecting him. Boyfriend aside… (aw man! Now I’m thinking about boyfriend again. Tall. Handsome. Mmmmm. I’ll be right back…)

Anyway! If there were no other outside factors keeping me from saying “yes” to this man, there’s still no way I would do it. Too pathetic. Too obvious. Too victim-y. Too weak. I would eat him alive. A guy like him coming up to a girl like me is like a gazelle wandering up to a hungry lioness asking directions to the shadiest spot in the safari. Many a gazelle has been killed that way. When will they ever learn? Come on, gazelles! Just get GPSes (GPSi?) already!

I walked away from the man- for his own good- and went to the post office to drop off my letters. And then started the long trek back. Yes, as I passed the car repair shop I heard more whistles. Yes. I counted. A total of five for the entire trip. Five whistles and one date proposal. That’s how nice this white shirt looked. Why did I count the whistles, you say? I am an actress, after all. I can’t pretend to not like attention.

Was it flattering? Truth be told, yes. It was very flattering. But I hated every moment of it. And I loved every moment of hating it. And I can’t wait to wear the shirt again and love hating every new moment of the attention it brings. I’ll wear it with a little heel to make my hips a-sway and keep my head held high. And I’ll disgustedly glare down any man who looks at me.

Ah, the complicated ways of we women.