Dacia’s Dating Guide

I went to lunch today where I learned that my cousin has started dating again. I was instantly excited for her and then was abruptly disenchanted when I heard what kind of A-holes are out there. I thought about it a lot today and I have a lot of knowledge to share about dating. This post will be geared towards the ladies, but guys, please feel free to use the same advice (although reverse the genders. Unless you are gay, then that might not be necessary).

Advice #1: No one is that happy.
How many times have you received a ‘lol’ or ‘haha’ or ‘:)' from this person when messaging them electronically? If they use it regularly, or god forbid, all the time, ditch them. No one is that happy. I don’t care who you are. If you truly smile all the time, laugh out loud or chuckle that much, you are either a toothpaste model, on drugs or psycho. And with the economy being what it is, I doubt there is much demand for toothpaste models.

Advice #2: Get them intoxicated—and quickly.
Invite your said date back to your place for some cocktails. While you pour yourself some “red wine” (read: diet cranberry juice) give them the hard stuff and as much of it as you can. The goal in this task is that you want them to be too drunk to drive, carry on a conversation, want sex, and therefore ultimately pass out on your sofa. Once Mr. Houseguest Extraordinaire is counting sheep, take his wallet and run a background and credit check. As a lady of 2010, you have a right to know their criminal background and if they are broke or not*. It is essential to ensure maximum credit worthiness.

Advice #3: Avoid the Red Flags
Girls…some of you extremely disappoint me. If you see the red flags, and you know you know what they are, run. Simple as that. Don’t be a smash hole and stay because you think you can fix them. You don’t invest in broken stilettos to repair the heels so why would you invest your time into fixing a broken man? Yuck. Just don’t do it.

Advice #4: Get Dumped Gracefully
This is a huge one and an element not to be overlooked. Guys don’t like to feel like losers. SO! If they dump you, you treat them like a used car that turned out to be a lemon—because they clearly are! When they say “This just isn’t going to work out for me.” You look them dead in their eyes (DO NOT CRY) and you say, “Well, it was a pleasure getting to know you.” Then you smile, shake their hand, and walk away confidently. The man will wonder what in the hell just happened, they will question if the chick they are going to date next is worth it, and always just wonder about you—as they should!

Advice #4 really works because round two can always be a lot of fun with someone you already know. Besides, you can always rub it in their face when they realize what a mistake they made. And trust me they always come back—always**. Also, it always helps to run into them with the girl they dumped you for.

Imagine for a moment if you will…

She turns mousey and chubby (like we all do when we settle down***) but you are still super glam because you’re single and loving life. You see them out at a bar and he looks at you longingly and miserably and you cross the room (in the model catwalk way because you’ve been practicing) and you hold your hand out and say, “Oh! You must be (insert dumpy girl’s name here)! It’s so nice to meet you! I am (Insert your WAYYY better name here). (Pause and let it sink in who you are. Then add…) Your boyfriend and I used to date but (insert his excuse for breaking up so it sounds really lame. An example might be: we were just two different people). But you two look great together! Have a great evening!” Perhaps and added wink for effect is nice here.

The point is, you can be a nice girl, but date intelligently and get what you want all while having fun. So, cheers to the single ladies out there. I wish you luck, and I hope you all get dumped once after reading this, because getting the boot can sometimes be the best part of dating.


*Some credit blunders are okay and excusable—we are in the middle of a recession.
**When people in general are rejected, they start acting like stray cats.
***I’m not gonna pretend like some women don’t. They just get this “taken” look about them.

Confidence

I feel compelled to write about confidence today. This particular post isn’t intended to be humorous, but like all things surrounding me, humor usually weasels its way into my words. So, if you enjoy a chuckle or two, GOOD! I am glad that I brought a smile to your day.

Today, amid a lot of conversation, my boss asked me where my confidence went. Poor him that he doesn’t get to see where the inner Dacia-ness of confidence really comes from. However, how lucky you, my few readers, to learn where I tap into this said confidence.

(Ah-hem) Confidence is:

• Driving my Ford Focus and pretending it’s a Mercedes.

• Singing all the words to every song I know as though I am the original artist.

• Drinking my $2.99 wine like it is Dom Perignon.

• Telling my dreams to everyone and believing that it’s only a matter of time before they all fall into place.

• Writing my stories and promoting them to be the next New York Times best seller.

• Planning vacations to far-away places that may or may not ever happen.

• Treating my friends and family like they are celebrities (and I am too).

• Refusing to be treated any less than a goddess.

• Posing for all photos like they are going to be plastered on a billboard.

• Treating my daughter to all of life’s pampering—even if that means I go without.

• Working my tail off and saying ‘thank-you’ when someone notices.

• Respecting everyone I encounter because I have no reason to be an a-hole.

I am sure there are a lot more of these bullet points to share, but I have already had my $2.99 wine this evening and therefore don’t have much more to add for the time being. I would like to invite all of you to post what makes you feel confident. A lot of people lack self-confidence and rely on others to help them find it. Rely on me this time and shout it out—tell me—what makes you feel your best?

Voicemail

I hate voicemail. I really, truly, hate voicemail. To me, it is a waste of time. In the age of text messaging, caller ID and email, I don’t see a need for it. Just today, my handsome husband called, listened to my phone ring three times and waited to hear my voicemail greeting. All of this was in an effort to simply say, “Hey, it’s me. Call me back.”

SO! To actually engage with people in my life (read: I just wanted the icon on my phone to quit its silent nagging), I checked my voicemail. That exercise consisted of dialing my voicemail, entering my password, listening to the recorded voice giving me options, listening to the stupid message my husband left, and then listen to the options again to delete the message.

(Insert exasperated sigh here)

I believe we, as Americans, are a culture of intelligent people. Why, then, are we still wasting our valuable time recording our voice for people to listen to? We have caller ID for crying out loud! I knew my husband called today—I was lunching with girls from work and ignored the call. If I truly wanted to talk at that moment, I would have taken the call (why is this such a difficult concept? Was voicemail truly invented for those who couldn't take rejection? So in an effort to make them feel better we let them record their voice? Hmmm...). Instead, I kept my attention centered on the interaction in front of me (which I would like to point out is the respectful thing to do). I knew he probably wanted to talk since he called, so why would he leave a message to call him?! Absurd when you think it over, isn’t it?

I only throw my husband under the bus on this topic because he loves me enough to take the abuse. However, the other people who floor me (and this is classic move of a certain unnamed person in my life*) is when someone calls, waits for the whole answering machine/voicemail gig, and then HANGS UP AFTER THE BEEP! I wasted my time to hear a dial tone?! What the heck? I have dated and been dumped enough in life to have had my fill of the dial tone thank-you-very-much.

So, as a resolution to my annoyance: please, please, PLEASE —just send a text, email or let me notice you called via caller ID. I rarely listen to messages anyway and I probably delete your long drawn out verbal drawling**.

The take away from this rant is this: if we are going to use voicemail; let’s bring back the fax machine and type writer too. If we are to go back to our archaic roots, then let’s go WAYYY BACK.

And for those of you reading this—and you know who you are—USE YOUR VOICEMAIL and call me back!


*Carrie Shilman

** Unless it’s my mom, dad or sister—they are the ONLY exceptions—and that is purely out of fearing for my life due to their wrath should I not listen to and return their calls.

Weight Gain

I quit smoking four months ago. I know this should be really good for me, but in reality, I just traded up from lung disease to heart disease because I can’t keep the fork out of my mouth. I see that this is normally a problem for most when they quit smoking, but honestly, my muffin top is morphing into a loaf. My husband, bless his soul, is trying to shed some weight with me.

Being the great support system we are, we write out a grocery list that is complete with healthy fruits, veggies, non-fat this, low calorie that and we are determined to be the next models of fitness magazine…Until the other one isn’t looking.

Just the other day, I was dumping some coffee grounds into the garbage when I noticed a Burger King bag precariously hidden beneath other garbage. Does my husband really think I don’t search the trash?? C’mon! I love to snoop; I actually have that listed as a hobby on Facebook! When I confronted him with the bag, he pretended like he had no idea it was there and couldn’t understand why ANYONE in our house would order a double Whopper with extra bacon and mayo. The audacity of someone in our house doing that is absurd! He only stopped yapping when my eyes narrowed on the Burger King cup in front of him. Like a deer in headlights, he dare not acknowledge the cup but rather paid me a compliment on my slippers. Game over buddy.

So back to myself. I made an honest effort to go running the other day. It is something I enjoy to do, yet, I have built parameters in which it makes it almost impossible to run. For example, I don’t like to run right when I wake up. That’s way too much, too soon and honestly people, you know me—when do I ever wake up on a day that I can run in the morning NOT hung over? My point is made.

However, the other philosophy is that if I get moving really soon after I wake, my brain hasn’t woken up enough to realize that exercise is happening. So really, it’s a 50/50 shot on the timing of the run. I don’t like to run when it’s warm. I already sweat like a pig in menopause that I don’t need the sunshine contributing. BUT! The gray skies are depressing to run in so it really needs to be a mix of blue skies with the sun partially hidden behind clouds. You can imagine my plight and what a chore running can be for me. Did I mention I only run on flat terrain?

I digress…today I decided that I would eat healthy and run after work. I brought everything with me and listened to New Kids on the Block all the way in to the office. I put myself in a positive mental state and was ready to kick some caloric ass when I parked my car. I headed into my building (running gear in hand) and took the elevator from the garage to the second floor. Wait?! WHAT?! NO WONDER I AM GAINING WEIGHT! I prepare myself for a healthy day, and then avoid 4 flights of stairs and unconsciously take the elevator….

***Sigh*** I can’t win.

Moral of the story:

Someone, please get me a cigarette and for goodness sake; clean out the McDonald’s wrappers hidden in my trunk before my husband finds them.