The Type

My friend Felice has been on a few dates with a guy who seems obviously interested in her based on their interactions thus far.

He calls. He takes her out. He follows up and asks to take her out again.

Still, my friend Felice questions his interest based on a small admission he made during one of their dates.

His last serious girlfriend was an all-american blonde. (Felice is an ethnic brunette.)

During a recent conversation, Felice asked me the question I’m not sure how to answer any more.

How much do "types" matter in relationships?

I used to think "types" mattered a lot. If a guy at a bar had a thing for Asian or "exotic" (Ugh, I hate that term) girls, I could count on him to approach me. Likewise, my friends who were attracted to tall, dark and handsome types generally ended up with them on the dance floor.

But over the years, I’ve watched friends fall for people who don’t fit their "types" at all. Guy friends ending up with women I would’ve never pictured them with. Girlfriends ending up with guys shorter or bigger or more ethnic or whatever than they’d ever described in our young girltalks.

So you’d think based on all that, the simple, evolved answer, would be that types don’t matter. After a certain level of maturity, people look beyond hair, eye, skin, height, weight, etc. to fall in love with what lies beneath.

Kumbaya.

Initially, I told Felice not to worry, that types don’t matter at our age.

Unfortunately, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s really that simple.

I mean, don’t we have "types" because it’s a natural, almost animalistic thing – to be drawn to a certain look of a human being that causes a chemical reaction in ourselves?

So as much as you may feel – or want to feel – satisfied by the nice, funny, gold-hearted person who happens to be the opposite of your type, isn’t it just simple fact that you’d be a lot more excited if those qualities were packaged in the "type" that makes you feel all tingly inside?

Thankfully, I think Felice’s new man has also dated non-Blondes, so my theory doesn’t have to
apply to her potentially budding relationship.

The asterisk in all this seems to be that some people truly don’t have types.

Which, at the end of the day, leaves hope for us all.

Vince Lombardi and Love

For years, I’ve taken issue with the famous Vince Lombardi quote: “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”

“What a terrible thing to say!” I’ve argued.

What about the game itself? Is there no value in the mere idea of playing? Is Lombardi’s message that we should only feel happy when we come out on top on the end?

Well, Packer fans, I think I’ve had an epiphany based on a situation I heard about recently.

Carlie was dating a guy with cute, single friends. So she hooked her friend Jen up with one of them. Fortunately, Jen and the guy’s friend hit it off. Unfortunately, Carlie’s guy ended up being a dud. So now she has to hear all about the great budding relationship she instigated, even though her own relationship is tanking. It makes her really mad.

It’s a scenario we all take a gamble on when we bring friends together. There’s always a chance they’ll score the most, even though you invited them to the field.

Carlie has been ignoring Jen ever since she started calling to gush about the new relationship. She isn’t proud of her behavior, but she just can’t bring herself to listen to the romantic babble she wanted for herself.

So I think I finally see what Vince – I can call him that, right? – may have been saying. Maybe sometimes, it isn’t enough to just be in the game. You invite people to play, but ultimately you want to win.

When it comes to relationships, winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.

Male Mole Haters

Last weekend I happily returned to Milwaukee for a Brewers game/Summerfest extravaganza.

A bunch of my guy friends were there, and one of them (a married guy) happened to bring along a co-worker who was a very cute single girl.

At least, that's what I thought of her: Petite. Pretty. Cute outfit. Fun personality.

But to my surprise, that's not what the guys took away from meeting her.

When I asked them what they thought, they all had the same reaction:

"I couldn't get past the gigantic mole on her face."

I know. Unbelievable, right? I couldn't believe this was even the discussion. Sure, I noticed it, but would never have guessed it was a dealbreaker. What about all the sexy moles out there, I argued -- like Cindy Crawford? Or Madonna?

And then I had a flash of deja vu, remembering that it was not the first time I'd heard about mole hating.

A few years ago, I was hanging out with my older brother and some of his friends when they, too, disqualified someone I thought was a perfectly lovely woman because they didn't find her beauty mark beautiful.

I don't get it. Guys will excuse all kinds of ugliness in women: caddy personalities; golddigging habits; psychotic tendencies; not to mention much more noticeable physical characteristics like love handles and cankles.

But give a girl a mole on her cheek and she's suddenly disgusting.

What is it with the male mole hating?

I really don't think women do the same thing. I know plenty of women who still found Enrique Iglesias hot even when he had that huge mole on his cheekbone.

He probably only got it removed because he's a guy. And guys hate moles, apparently.


PS) Shoegirl, to answer your question, it's actually the opposite. I know exactly the type of chick you're describing. Thankfully, I think any of my friends -- or my boyfriend -- would tell you after being a single girl for so long I'm HYPER conscious of never blowing off my friends for a man. So the busy-ness comes from trying to juggle equal time with friends and the guy, not from dedicating only time to him.

Socially Acceptable Stalking

First, a note. Thanks so much for the encouragement to blog more. You're right, I've been a terrible blogger and infrequent postings make it no fun. Honest time, not having any idea if anyone's out there reading has made it hard to stay motivated. (The JS blog tools always gave me numbers on readership). Settling into this city has also taken away from my blogging routine -- trying to prove myself at the new job; learning my way around, and yes, a little bit of having a boyfriend and not being sure how much I can write without making anyone mad. That all said, I have blog ideas all the time, and, thanks to your gentle nudging, will do my best to get back on the wagon.

P.S. I was also recently contacted by the Morning Blend people, who want me to come back for a show. That should kick things back into gear as well.

So thanks again, my friends. I appreciate your interest and feedback so very much and hope you all have a great July 4th weekend. :o)

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The other day I got an excited e-mail from my sister, who was doing some down-time web stalking.

OMG I just found James
(her high school/college sweetheart with whom she lost all contact after they broke up in 2001)

She included the link to James’ east coast law firm, where he’s apparently been working for years.

Amused, I insisted that she had to drop him a line, if not to just say hello.

This is a boy who spent many a holiday at the Ortiz house. Sweet kid, he brought me a rose at my college graduation party. My mom gave him a job for one summer. We were used to having him around, and thus curious about what’s become of him years later.

My sister was hesitant – she didn’t want it to seem like she’s been pining for the guy. He just popped into her head during a day of bored internet browsing.

I pushed.

If you feel really uncomfortable, blame it on me. Send a hello and say your sister, the reporter, stumbled across his law firm during a random googling session.

In the end, they had a short, but sweet e-mail exchange. He told her what he’s up to, she told him what she’s up to, they congratulated each other on their respective success and asked each other to say hello to their families.

The more interesting development, however, came up after my sister and I went on to tell a few people about the exchange.

We’d tell the story, just like above, and people would say:

Wait – WHY did she have to blame the google stalking on you?

Which brings me to the point I’ve been amazed to discover recently. It appears we are in a day and age when Google-stalking is so commonplace, it no longer even requires an explanation.

When I started this blog a couple years ago, I feel like it was still taboo to admit that you’re looking up exes and other people you don’t talk to. But somehow, in the wake of MySpace, Facebook and the prevalence of Google, it seems people have officially become out in the open about Google stalking.

Some friends said my sister shouldn’t have even explained how she found her ex’s e-mail address. She should’ve just dove into conversation because it’s obvious that people find exes on the web.

Crazy. The social rules seem to be changing so fast. I figured I better take note of it now before people think even the topic is out of date.

Pretty, Please

OK, fellas, pop quiz:

My friend McConnell is a very pretty girl. So pretty that she can roll out of bed and head out unshowered with no makeup on, and guys will still ask for her number. So stylin’ that on a recent date, random women felt inclined to throw out praise as she walked by – "You go, girl," "You look awesome in that dress, "etc.

So then, in your opinion, how often should the guy she’s been seeing tell her she looks good?

1. never, she gets it enough. I don’t want her to get a big head.
2. Whenever she tells me I look handsome.
3. Every time I’m struck by it. And that’s often.

The correct answer is C. Trust me. I’ve done much research on the topic recently, and am reporting these findings to help make everyone’s life more beautiful.

In McConnell’s case, she was starting to wonder if maybe her new guy didn’t think she looked good. Because she’d get compliments from girlfriends and random strangers, but not from the man she was actually trying to look good for.

It’s the Pretty Paradox: I think men sometimes assume that women who are attractive know they are attractive an don’t need to hear it from one more. But in fact, it’s the opposite. The more you hear it from strangers, the more important it is to hear it from your beau.

Because he, after all, is the reason you put on the hot dress and curl your eyelashes. So when he says nothing, even the prettiest of women are left to wonder – are the strangers lying? Or does my boyfriend think I’m ugly?

McConnell isn’t the only one. I have lots of girlfriends who have had similar concerns.

My friend Felice ended an on-again-off-again relationship with a guy, one of the major reasons being he never said it enough. And I remember like yesterday a 1999 break-up where my getting-over-him anthem became -- (don't laugh) -- TLC's "Unpretty."

For better or for worse, women need to be told they look good by their men.

I realize there are some other issues involved in this discussion. Like that women aren’t the only ones who should be complimented – guys need to be told they look good, too. Or that it’s a sad commentary that so many women put such high value on physical appearance instead of celebrating their inner spirit.

True, all true.

But as of where we are today, any girl will tell you there’s nothing better than having the guy you love watch you with that funny smile, and then tell you that you’re beautiful..

Call us insecure. Call us needy.

Just also call us pretty.

Damn Straight, SJP

Love that Sarah Jessica Parker defended Milwaukee's sexiness during a recent interview.

Check this out.

Also, this article by Chicago columnist John Kass got a lot of buzz in recent weeks. He's giving guys a get-out-of-going-to-see-the-Sex and the City Movie free card.

Read it here.

Cute, but I have to object to the entire premise of the column. No self-respecting SATC fan would ever even consider going with anyone but her girlfriends to the film.

Boyfriend Dread

(Sorry for the long absence -- was out of the country for 9 days with my sister!)

I was waiting in line for the bathroom at a bar recently when a guy approached to talk about the can of Schlitz beer in my hand.

He seemed pretty amused when I explained that I liked drinking beers that reminded me of Milwaukee, and so for the next few minutes we went on to engage in what I thought was innocent, lively banter about old school beers and other fun.

About a half hour later, when I was back talking to my friends, the guy approached carrying two cans of Schlitz. One was for him. The other he handed over to me with a hopeful smile.

Shoot. I thought, feeling equal parts gratitude and dread.

Of course I appreciated the gesture and thanked him. But I realized that the gesture required me to do something I’ve never been very good at – telling guys that I have a boyfriend.

It’s a tricky situation, I think.

Because you never want to be too presumptuous and assume someone is making a play for you. (Maybe he was just generous and liked buying beers for people).

But you also never want people to accuse you of leading a guy on, or milking the attention.

So I’m always left wondering when the best moment to insert the information would be. And hoping to God my face doesn’t flinch or make embarrassing apology-expressions that would make me seem arrogant.

I’ve been on the other side of this equation, too. When I’m the single girl, and a guy I’m talking to never mentions his significant other. Sometimes I actually KNOW he has a girlfriend and he still never brings her up.

In those situations, I usually feel like, Just spit it out already, I’m not going to be devastated.

And yet, when it’s the other way around, I just clam up.

Luckily, that night at the bar it was easy. After handing over the beer, Schlitz Man asked me who I knew at the party that brought me to the bar.

“My boyfriend,” I said, pointing at him across the room.

The guy nodded his head and stuck around for a few minutes before politely excusing himself.