“This wasn’t what I was expecting when I inquired about your services. No one told me I was signing up to be insulted and lectured like I’m some kind of teenager.”
Believe me, honey, you’re no teenager, Holly thought. “Listen, do you want to find love or do you want to remain single for the rest of your life? I can tell you right now that’s the direction you’re heading. Obviously, you are doing something wrong. If you are serious about me helping you, you’d better cool your jets.”
Sabrina put her hands on her hips. “Well, I never––”
“I said, do you want my help or not?”
“Yes, but I refuse to be treated like this. We need to get that straight right now. I am not paying you to abuse me, and furthermore.”
“Just follow my rules, and we won’t have a problem,” Holly said, knowing very well that Sabrina had never followed anyone’s rules in her life.
***
It was early evening by the time Holly got back to the office. After her meeting with Sabrina, she’d sat in on a four-hour love and relationship seminar in Santa Monica.
“How’d it go with the two women?” Emma asked when Holly walked in the door.
Holly slapped her purse down on her desk. “Jackie was a piece of cake, a real doll, but that Sabrina is some kind of train wreck. She is in dire need of a wake-up call, a looser wardrobe, and an attitude adjustment. It’s going to be like pulling teeth, but I think I can get through to her.”
“Well, at least there’s still some hope for her,” Emma said.
“We’ll see. Anyway, it’s after six. What are you two still doing here? Go home already.”
Chris swiveled around in his chair. “Emma and I are going for a drink at the Honor Bar. Wanna come with?”
Holly sat back down at her desk. “Uh—no. I have a ton of work to do.”
“Come on, Holly. Just one drink?” Emma got up from her seat and slipped on a black jacket. “You really need to get out and meet new people.”
“It’s only been like a week since I broke up with Matthew. Are you expecting some kind of miracle? It’s way too soon for any of that.”
“You’re over-working yourself to keep your mind off him,” Chris said. “You need to relax and take a breather.”
“I just don’t feel up to it, guys.” Holly tried to ward off their invitational banter by logging onto her computer and tapping into her blog. “Incredible!”
“What?” Emma asked, taking the bait.
“There are over thirty comments on my latest blog entry.”
“Blog schmog. C’mon, Holly. Please come hang out with us. Just one drink, and then you can take off. I promise,” Emma begged.
These two weren’t going to take no for an answer, and come to think of it, one drink wouldn’t kill her. In fact, it could help quiet her nerves. “Fine,” she said, finally giving into the pressure. “I’ll come along…but just one drink.”
***
By the time the trio arrived at the Honor Bar in Beverly Hills, the place was already packed with drinkers, and excitement was rippling through the air. A steady stream of patrons were still arriving. Two people got up from a table near the door as the threesome entered the bar. Chris was surprised at the speed someone took to take possession of it.
The dining room had a Southwestern appeal, with black leather booths, dark wood paneling and silvery accents— quite the masculine décor. As Holly glanced around, her fears were confirmed: This place was a meat market! Young women dressed in low-cut shirts and short-skirts were prancing around like cheerleaders, shaking their assets in every man’s face, and the men were eating it up.
Holly squeezed in between people, attempting to make her way to the bar.
“Let Chris get you a drink. Maybe you should go find us a table,” Emma suggested.
“Sure thing,” Holly said, less than thrilled about the whole outing. She was lucky enough to find an empty booth close to the bar area, and she snatched it up before anyone had a chance to hone in on it.
The work crowd had just trickled in. Men were garbed in suits, ruffled shirts, and ties. The women donned business attire and spiky heels, most likely purchased from Fred Segal or Neiman Marcus. As professional as they were during their nine-to-fives, they morphed into flirty schoolgirls by night, giggling and laughing at every word the men uttered, nearly spilling their umbrella drinks as they did. Everyone was laughing and having a good ol’ time, like it was one big party, but Holly didn’t feel festive at all. In fact, she felt completely out of place, almost as if everyone was staring at her. It had been years since she’d stepped inside a place like this as a single woman, and it was too much too soon.
Standing beside Holly’s table was an attractive young man with fresh, boyish good looks, a stock of blond hair and startling inky-blue eyes. He was nursing his beer as he peered over at Holly. He winked and offered a charming, “Hey,” followed by the typical head nod. He was looking at her like a shark staring at a swimmer’s legs, as if she was the most desirable woman in the whole bar, and that had Holly smiling on the inside.
Still, the sudden flirtation felt awkward, like Holly was barely out of braces and being hit on for the first time in her life. “Uh…hi,” she stuttered back.
The blond took another swig and said with a smirk, “So, tell me, do the drapes match the carpet?”
“What?” Holly asked.
“Do the drapes match the carpet?” he repeated, chugging another mouthful of beer.
She blushed fiercely, shocked that he’d be so rude and perverted to a complete stranger. Luckily, Emma and Chris appeared with drinks just before Holly had a chance to get up and tell the creep off.
“Sorry it took so long. I got you a Blue Moon,” Emma said, sounding a bit winded.
The low-class jerk walked away, chuckling softly to himself as he continued to peruse the bar in search of his next victim. In absolute disgust, Holly pushed through the milling crowd and made her way out of the bar, leaving her Blue Moon behind for someone else to enjoy.
“Holly!” Chris called out, having no idea what had set her off. “What’s her problem?” he asked Emma.
Holly stumbled out into the cold streets of Los Angeles, surprisingly lonely as she weaved her way through a labyrinth of laughing, cuddling, smiling people. “I help singles all the time,” she muttered, just as a taxi splashed water on her shoes, “but how in God’s name am I supposed to survive the single life?”
February 22, 2013
Sparks101.com- I Teach Women How Men Think
Why Dating Sites Are a Waste of Time
Class is now in session.
What would we do if the Internet didn’t exist? How would people function? Most importantly, how would singles go about finding love without these wretched dating websites? Let’s think about that for a moment. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, your mom sure as hell didn’t meet your dad on Matchme.com. Ah, the good ol’ days, when things were so much simpler and far less convoluted. Is it that hard to walk out your front door and meet people these days? Forget about meeting people at bars or clubs. I’m talking about meeting people the normal way, like at school, a party or through friends. Dare you say that if you didn’t have the online dating sites your love life would be non-existent? Do you prefer to sit on your lazy ass instead of joining society? Do you instead choose to sit at your computer in the privacy of our own home trying to seek out the perfect online romance? Please!
Let me tell you something about online dating websites: They are worthless and time wasting—designed for the desperate and lonely. If you don’t believe me, just remember country singer Brad Paisley when he croons, “I’m so much cooler online…” I won’t go so far as to say every single person who uses a dating site is going to have a bad experience. In fact, I’ve talked to many people who have met their future spouse online. Some of these couples are very happy, but it makes me wonder. How long can a relationship last after it’s messed with fate? I believe Googling or Binging your way to lo
ve is bypassing the ever-important aspect of fate and chance. The old adage, “You’ll find love when you least expect it,” is proven true more often than naught. When you use a dating site, you don’t give yourself the chance to meet someone unexpectedly. You aren’t supposed to go hunting like Cupid does. You’re supposed to wait until one of his arrows hits you!
If you haven’t used a dating site, you might have some preconceived notions about the kind of people who do—and some of them might be correct. The four basic kinds of people who decide to undergo a cyber-search for love on these websites go as follows: The socially inept, those with little or no self-esteem, the mentally unstable, and the ones looking for a quick roll in the hay.A truly good catch has no reason to be fishing on a dating website in the first place. I get tired of hearing, “Well, I’m normal, but I’m so busy. I justdon’t have time to meet people. The Internet is so much easier and more convenient.” Sorry, but that’s a cop-out if I ever heard one. There are millions of other single people out there, many of them good, decent individuals who are looking for the same things you are in a relationship. If you can’t meet them, you’re simply not trying hard enough. Why would a mentally stable, attractive person with a lot going for them be trolling around on Matchme.com? They wouldn’t! But let’s put that all aside for the moment. Say you decide to take a gamble on a .com romance. You fill out your profile, whip out the MasterCard or Visa to pay the membership fees, and begin the wait. Finally, someone responds. You strike up several conversations and decide you actually want to meet in real life. I know, I know. This sounds quite like the plot of far too many romantic comedies or horror movies—take your pick—but bear with me.
From the horror stories I’ve heard from my male friends, it seems women tend to be the most dishonest in their online profiles and the image they create. A great majority post pictures of themselves that were taken at least a decade ago. I feel sorry for the guy who decides to meet HotGirl4Fun only to encounter a 200-pound gorilla with thinning hair, moles in the shape of The Big Dipper, and a smile that looks like she’s been chewing on Pepsi cans. Now, maybe I am exaggerating (or maybe not)but you get the idea. Crow’s feet and Jabba the Hutt figure aside, what really bothers me is that the women actually seem to think Mr. Online Hottie isn’t going to notice that she looks nothing like the woman in her outdated Glamour Shots from 1982. More importantly, do they think he’s going to be willing to overlook it? What better basis for a relationship than dishonesty, right? Truthfully, men are better off meeting someone at a bar. Even after a few too many, a guy can get a better look at what he’s getting if she’s sitting right there in front of him, looking like she does in this decade.
Male dating profiles aren’t much better. Occasionally, a man might use a photo in which the angle makes him look slightly different than he does in person, but the deception for them usually comes in the words: “I’m a loving, down-to-Earth guy who is looking for the woman of my dreams. I am ready to settle down and be with the right person. I’m the most romantic guy you’ll ever meet.” You’ll want to meet this guy, who’s clearly every woman’s dream, and you feel like you’ll really hit it off. Unfortunately, as soon as he starts letting his mouth do the talking instead of his fingers, it’s as if you’ve been hit over the head with a hammer!
I must mention that there’s a huge difference between the free dating sites and the ones you have to pay for. If you need proof, sign up on a free dating and take a look at all the garbage that comes flying into your inbox— trash from California to New York. The best part is, most of guyswon’t even read your profile because they’re only looking at pictures and hoping your outfit is a little on the revealing side. Ladies, if you’re going to look for love online, please be willing to buy a membership. You get what you pay for, and the real losers will not be willing to pay forty-five bucks a month for a subscription.
The best way to avoid liars, users, and losers is to meet people in person. Honestly, this is the best way to meet and not just some fantasy version of themselves, some avatar they’ve created to lure you into their bedroom. If you are having trouble finding compatible dates on your own, come visit a competent matchmaker who knows a thing or two about finding real love in the real world. Come see me, and I’ll help you find someone based on your own strict criteria.
Class dismissed.
Lesson 4
After a ruthless morning of coaching a clueless millionairess through a date, Holly was looking forward to some quiet time and having a relaxing lunch with Todd at The Ivy.
When Todd showed up at the office, he was quick to make his presence known. He sauntered through the doorway, dressed in a small horizontal-striped shirt that was tucked into his twenty-six inch waist skinny jeans. His face was hidden behind oversized, pink, retro sunglasses, and his Billy Idol-inspired hairdo looked like he’d dipped his head in Clorox just that morning.
“Hello, hello,” he said as if announcing himself to the world on some imaginary red carpet. “I’m here, bitches.”
Emma gasped. “Shh! There could be a client present.”
“Um, the place looks pretty empty to me.”
“Sup, Todd?” Chris said, high-fiving him from his desk.
“Oh, you know… just livin’ large.”
Holly came out from hiding in the back when she heard Todd’s unmistakable voice. “Hey! You’re just in time.”
“There’s my number one matchmaker.” Todd kissed Holly on the cheek and looked her up and down. “You look fabulous, but I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
“Awe. You’re such an ego booster,” Holly said.
Todd glanced over at some headshots on Emma’s desk and picked up a photo of a blond, surfer-boy type. “Oh my. He is cute. What’s his name?”
“I think he goes by, ‘I’m Not Gay,’” Holly replied.
“How do you know? Maybe he goes both ways.” Todd took off his sunglasses and inspected the headshot thoroughly. “He’s so my type too! Where do you find all these hunks?”
She snatched the headshot away from him. “Todd, all these men are straight, like I’ve told you a hundred times before.”
“Oh, poop. Can’t say I didn’t try.”
“There’s someone out there for you, Todd. You just haven’t met him yet,” Emma said gently.
Todd responded with a sigh, “Well, when you find him, give him my number.”
“Where are you two headed for lunch?” Chris asked.
“The Ivy.” Todd pulled out his pocket mirror and started primping, even though he didn’t need to. “You ready to go Miss Thang?”
“Absolutely. I’m famished.”
***
A bright blue sky stretched above Todd and Holly as they sat on the patio of The Ivy, at a quaint little bistro table, soaking up the warm weather, sunshine, and pleasant conversation between friends.
The Ivy is known for their paparazzi-lined front patios, since the famous celebrity hangout often draws in well-known A-listers.
Holly and Todd dined on a hollowed-out loaf of sourdough bread with spinach-artichoke dip inside, and sipped on sangria as they waited for their entrees to arrive.
Todd was not the typical gay male. He had first openly revealed his homosexuality to his mother right after his high school graduation, believing she would accept it because he was her only son. Unfortunately, she was none too pleased to hear it. She went berserk and kicked him out of the house. Not only that, but she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him for the rest of her life. Todd had no other choice but to crash on the couches and futons of friends until he found a decent-paying job, or else he’d end up homeless and on the streets. Los Angeles is not kind to its “surplus population” of homeless people, especially those who have the audacity to be gay on top of down and out.
For Todd, living in Los Angeles had its benefits, particularly because it’s considered the entertainment capital of the world. He was able to pick up gofer jobs at several major film studios but after t
he first two years, he grew weary of it. Posting fliers around town in forty-degree weather, or sweeping up trash on a set was not part of the life Todd had dreamt for himself. At one point, he decided he wanted to get into the entertainment business. He’d wished he could work his way up, but there was too much competition.
Just when he was beginning to rethink his career strategy, a friend of his happened to mention something about a savvy online business that was making big bucks. His friend went around to Goodwill stores in the area in search of treasures. Those findings were then listed on eBay for far more than he paid in the first place. For some strange reason, bidding wars would ensue until the meaningless items earned a ridiculous profit. It was proof that one man’s trash was another man’s treasure. The idea set off a little switch in Todd’s head and he decided to give it a shot. Todd hunted down the best secondhand stores in LA for a few hours every weekend. Secondhand stores in Los Angeles are like shopping at Nordstrom’s with a Wal-Mart price tag. People practically gave away their barely used Juicy Couture purses, a steal for ten bucks, simply because they weren’t in season anymore. In the first week alone, Todd made $2,000 in profit. Since then, he’d been making a living off the Beverly Hills rich and famous, buying their so-called junk and selling it to those who were willing to pay the highest price.
“Oh my God! Tori Spelling is so sitting like two tables ahead of us,” Todd said, gasping and fanning his face. “I’d totally be one of her gays.”
“If she wasn’t so busy with her kids, maybe I’d go over there and suggest it,” Holly said.
“Right! In my dreams, girl,” Todd said, waving Holly off. “Anyway, as I was saying about that guy who took me out last night—he told me he’s not attracted to guys who are skinnier than him. He kept making snide remarks about my weight all night.”
The Experiment Page 6