Why do people write blogs? Why do normal (well, almost normal, because after reading some of the blogs out there, I'm not sure what the definition of normal is anymore.) people publicly post what could be considered a journal or diary? For me-- it's all about the writing. Writing has always been in my blood. Journaling (diary-writing) has been a part of my life since I was a little kid. I used to keep spiral notebooks with all kinds of wishes, hopes and dreams written down, then I progressed to those little hard-back pink diaries that most girls in junior high have at one point, complete with the little lock. I would write down everything from what my "crush du jour" was wearing to lists of my favorite songs at the moment. I even used to keep track of every time I saw Rick Springfield on TV or read about him in a magazine. Over the years, I lost "interest" in diary-writing but recently thought about doing it again-- just to have some sort of record of my life "right now." I even bought a nice bound journal at the stationary store and a nice felt tip pen (I love SHARPIE extra fine, black) to write with. But, I couldn't do it. I would stare at the blank page waiting for a reason to write. Then, a month ago, we got this blog option and the rest, as they say, is history. I LIKE coming here to write down my thoughts. I've been saving my entries on disk so that I have them for future reference. I also hope that my writing here will encourage me to explore other forms of writing-- the kind of writing I've always wanted to do and get paid for it. Whodathunk that tv.com would be my muse? :) I wrote my first "short story" for public consumption when I was 13. I was sitting in French class, staring at this crack in the tiled wall and wondered where it began and ended... and wrote a story called "THE CRACK". It was about a kid who discovered a crack in a school wall (how original, eh?) and decided to follow it... and it led the kid into another world-- like a weird parallel universe of sorts... and then I ended the story with a teacher waking up the kid. It had all been a dream!! I gave it to one friend to read who gave it to another and so on and so on. My little spur of the moment fantasy story was passed all over my junior high school. I even wrote a couple more like it and carried around a Mead Trapper Keeper (with it's velcro flap) with my stories inside-- neatly written on narrow-ruled notebook paper with papermate erasable ink. I wish I had kept them, but when I moved out of my parents' house when I left for college, I didn't take any childhood things with me... and now, I doubt they even kept any of that stuff. When I moved out, my brother took over my room and who knows where all of my stuff went. I went on to write for the school newspaper in high school and even became a news editor, but I didn't do any "recreational" writing until many years later. I am a vivid daydreamer. I love to just lie in bed before I fall asleep or when I first wake up and "daydream" about romantic scenarios. Most of the time, they involve me and my "perfect" man. Then, as I daydream, I think, "hey this would make a great story..." and start to write down things from my daydreams. I practically "act out" the entire story in my head before I start to write, but then I run out of steam. I have disks full of "partially started" stories. I've only written one complete romance from beginning to end. It was called FOR THE LOVE OF CHARLIE and I wrote it right after I graduated from college. It was about a school teacher who suddenly finds herself raising her 3 year old nephew Charlie. Her next door neighbor was a cute pilot who was gone a lot but had been recently grounded due to some kind of ear infection and although he wasn't contagious, he couldn't fly. He was cranky and when he hears the toddler crying through the thin walls of the duplex they share, he takes it out on his neighbor. Eventhough they've lived side by side for over a year, they've never met face to face until that moment. Yadda yadda yadda. She's basically at wit's end taking care of this child and he's grumpy about not being able to work, so they decide to join forces to try and care for the child while she tries to track down the whereabouts of her good-for-nothing brother who dumped the kid on her and left. There are a lot of "bonding" moments, including one where all three fall asleep on the sofa together and there is this feeling of "rightness." There are a few heated moments and a genuine respect and love developed on both parts but they can't help but wonder if it's because of the "playing house" scenario. The brother is located and a stern speech about responsibility ensues. The child is returned to the brother who is going to get help with raising the child. The cute neighbor gets his medical release to go back to work... and reality sets in. She resumes her regular life and he's gone a lot, but they both miss each other and love each other. Eventually, they find a way to work things out and live happily ever after. I wrote the story on an electric typewriter and somehow, I lost it during one of my many moves over the years. The only person who read it was my best friend at the time and she loved it-- and she didn't even read romance novels. I never did anything with it to try and publish it. I based it on what I knew at the time--- teaching, good-for-nothing brothers, nephews and my crush on pilots. This was after my "preppy" phase and before my "cowboy" phase. :) I read so many books that leave me wanting for more. I'll think to myself, "I paid $ for this? I could write something better." Yet, I never do. Last week, I started to work on a new story. I've gotten as far as chapter one... and even that isn't finished. I had a "thought" based on something that happened to me in real life and then sat down and started typing. Then, I walked away from the story for a few days... and now I can't get back into the groove. (sigh) So, here I am at my blog. I can find the time and energy to write here because it's about stuff I know. Maybe I should write a story about a woman writing a blog? :)

I just saw a commercial for a movie about a woman in her 30s who meets men via an internet personal ad. I also saw in TV GUIDE a blurb about a reality show about women meeting men on line. Hmmm.... Maybe I'm NOT the only one who has stories to tell. :) For a different twist, the following story involves no internet personal ad. When I moved into my apartment a little over 7 years ago, I made friends with the property manager and told her that she had to make sure that any eligible cute men that moved in were to be brought to my attention immediately. She said that she got first dibs but that any that she didn't want were all mine. Hmmm... it sounded nice in theory. A couple of months later, I was awakened by the sound of sirens. I looked out my bedroom window and standing on the sidewalk in front of the apartment directly across from me was a vision to behold. A tall, athletically-built man with dark hair, wide-shoulders, narrow hips and an attractive face stood there in nothing but a white towel! Good Morning! Standing beside him was the property manager. Standing beside her were two men in firemen uniforms. Parked off to the side was a fire truck. I quickly got dressed and went downstairs. By the time I got there, hunky neighbor guy had gone back inside and the property manager was talking to the firemen who were loading up their gear. I waved at her from my front step. She waved back. As soon as the firemen were gone, she came over to my apartment. I said, "Hey, you have been holding out on me!" She laughed and informed me that my new neighbor had just moved in and promptly caught his stove on fire. "And he just happened to be walking around in a towel?" I joked. She laughed and said that she didn't know all of the details. She said that luckily there was no major damage except to the stove. I asked her if she knew anything else about the neighbor and she told me his first name and that he was in construction. So, the obsession began. "B" (my neighbor) had a thing for keeping all of his blinds up and walking around his apartment wearing very little clothing. I would sit in my living room with the lights down and the blinds open "a little" so that I could enjoy the occasional show. I began to orchestrate meetings. I would try to leave at the same time as he or hope to be pulling in at the same time at night. He was an early riser. I am not a morning person. Yet, I would get up early and hope that I could pull off a "hey, welcome to the neighborhood" while we conveniently left for work at the same time. It never happened, tho. So, then I talked a couple of girlfriends into a nightly post-work walk around my apartment complex. I always wore a bright pink t-shirt so that I would stand out. We must have walked miles and miles around that place and not once did we ever encounter him. I knew he was in there. I'd see him come home. His blinds were up. The lights were on. "Notice me!" I wanted to shout. Then, the borderline stalking started. I would get braver each day and walk closer to his apartment. I even considered having a friend send mail to me at his address so that he would have to bring me my mail. One night, my friend H was over and we were sitting on my front step talking and I voiced out loud that I wondered what the shadowy object in B's living room was. Since "B" hadn't come home yet and wasn't due for another 15 or 20 minutes, I got up and walked across the way to his apartment. Just as I was getting ready to look in it, H started yelling my name. I looked up and there was "B" driving down the driveway. Oh crap! So, I quickly darted to the side of the building and and then back to my side of the driveway. When I got back to H, I said, "Did you see a rabbit run by?" (It was the best lie I could come up with.) B got out of his truck and gave me a peculiar look and went inside his apartment. After that, I quit being so obsessively "curious" because the close-call made me sick to my stomach. I did not want to get hauled off to jail for stalking. So, I did the next best thing-- I placed an "I SAW YOU" ad in a local newspaper. What is that? you ask. Well, there are these ads in one of the free weekly entertainment newspapers where people put in "Hey, cute girl wearing a green sweater at Starbucks on Sunday. I was the guy who spilled creamer. Wanna get together?" type ads under the "I SAW YOU" column. We were having an apartment-wide pool party in a few weeks so I put an ad that said "Hey neighbor with red truck. Girl in pink shirt thinks you're cute. Come to the pool party and let's talk." Yeah. Dumb. Bold. Crazy. But, I did it. Then, regretted it. I even tried to take the ad out once I actually saw it in print. The personals manager said that it would run for 2 weeks and then she'd be able to remove it. I stopped my nightly walk. I stopped wearing the pink t-shirt. I even considered not going to the pool party. But, I talked a couple friends into going with me so I'd have "courage" to go. "B" never showed and I was relieved. Disappointed, too, but mostly relieved. What do you say to someone after you do something like that? What if you do hook up and it's a disaster? Do you move? Do you pretend it didn't happen? A few weeks later, anything that was left of my curiosity was squashed like a bug on a biker's helmet. "B" brought home a guest. A special guest. The blinds came down for the first time in months, but I knew what was going on. The property manager called me a few days later and confirmed my suspicions. She told me that B was moving out to share a place with his love-interest. Turns out that no matter what color shirt I had worn or how many times I walked by B's apartment, he never would have noticed me. At least not in a romantic way. I just wasn't his "type", if you know what I mean --- not that there's anything wrong with that. :)

I saw this movie today and it scared the bejeebers out of me in places. I highly recommend it for the suspenseful edge of your seat stuff. Great special effects. The only downer was that Dakota Fanning did a lot screeching and screaming throughout the movie and it got on my nerves. Other than that, I really liked it. Next up: The Fantastic 4 (although, I admit that I'm only going to see it because I have a crush on Julian McMahon) and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

What a productive day I've had! I woke up early, ate breakfast, got dressed, went to the gym and did pool exercises for about 40 minutes, sat in the steam room for about 10 minutes, showered off the chlorine (at the gym), got re-dressed and then came home. I had this sudden boost of energy so I vacuumed and steam-cleaned the carpets downstairs. Then, I vacuumed the carpets upstairs. I even moved my bed and vacuumed up all of the kitty-created fur-balls and dust balls that hid under there. There's nothing quite as satisfying as giving your house a thorough cleaning. When I was a little kid, I was afraid of what hid under my bed. Most kids are afraid of the closet. Not me. I was convinced that some monster lived under my bed and if I let my feet dangle for more than a few seconds when I was getting in or out of bed, the monster would grab my feet and pull me under. The only thing that scared me more when I was a little kid were people. I was a very shy kid. I was one of those annoying kids who hid behind my mom whenever people would talk to me. On all of my report cards, teachers would write that I needed to learn to overcome my shyness. Boys were particularly frightening to me, eventhough I had a brother. In second grade, there was a boy who "liked" me. "R" would come up to me at school and try to talk to me. He would do all of those things that icky boys do to let girls know that they like them. He would tease me. He would tell me jokes. He would offer to let me play kickball (eventhough I lacked coordination and sucked) on his team at recess. He lived pretty close to me so sometimes, I'd even see him walk by my home on his way to/from the bus stop. The summer before third grade, "R" got bold in his pursuit. One day, I was in my bedroom playing with my barbie dolls. My bedroom window was open and I could hear my mom outside talking to someone. I looked out the window and there stood "R". I freaked out. My mom started yelling for me. "R" had come to visit. To play. I panicked. I couldn't go outside because the only exit would take me right to where my mom and "R" stood. We lived in a small place and there weren't a lot of hiding options. I considered under the kitchen table but sometimes, spiders were seen there and I didn't want to hide with spiders. I thought about the bathroom, but my mom had figured out a way to unlock the bathroom door so that was a bad choice. I thought about the closet but it was jammed full of the toys I was supposed to put away every day and just threw on the closet floor. That left.... UNDER THE BED. Yup. I faced my fear head on and shimmied under my bed. I lie on my stomach and scooted as close to the wall as I could get. (My bed was up against the wall, obviously.) My mom entered the house calling for me. She announced that little "R" was outside and wanted to know if I wanted to go bike-riding. She checked my room, but didn't check under my bed. I held my breath waiting to be discovered. I was safe! I heard her go back outside and say something to "R". Her voice was muffled but she stopped calling for me. I crawled out from under the bed and peeked outside. He was gone and Mom had gone back to watering her flowers. WHEW! I got over my fear of what hid under my bed that summer. It took longer to get over my shyness and my fear of boys. (Although, do we ever really get over our fear of boys?) "R" moved away that summer and I was glad I didn't have to face him in the fall. He moved back our senior year and I'd like to say that our eyes met and he remembered me from second grade and we fell in love and went to prom, but, alas, "R" came back cute and a cheerleader snatched him up before I could even try to recall the old days with him. I have him to thank for discovering that there are no monsters hiding under my bed. :) (oh-- and in case you're wondering why my mom didn't freak out that she couldn't find me, she just thought I had gone on an adventure with my brother. We lived in a very rural area and we could safely wander all over town without anyone trying to abduct us or hurt us. Plus, our grandparents lived next door and we used to go there a lot, too.)

aaah, the hiss, boom and bang of fireworks. The rumbles started around noon today. I don't understand why anyone would put fireworks off in broad daylight, but then again, I don't understand why the morons in my neighborhood like to go out every now and then and just shoot guns into the air. A teenaged girl was killed on New Year's Eve because someone shot into the air and it came down and into her bedroom window. But, I digress. When I was a little kid, fireworks were a big deal. The 4th of July was a big deal. My dad's birthday is the 5th of July so every year, we'd celebrate his birthday on the 4th. We'd start the day getting ready. We'd clean off the picnic table in our yard, cover it with one of those red and white checkered "plastic" table-cloths and then secure it with bricks on each corner. Then, dad would fire up the grill while my brother and I played in the wading pool or did other summer time things. One of our favorites was pretending to "weld" the chain link fence separating our yard from our grandma's with our sparklers. Once the grill was good and hot, we'd have all of the traditional cookout type foods-- hot dogs, hamburgers, watermelon, potato salad and popsicles. My brother and I would take pieces of our buns and put them on the ground and watch little armies of ants carry away the crumbs. As the afternoon would wind down, we would fill a cooler with pop (yeah, I'm from where we say pop) and ice and head to this place called Ohiopyle where there are dams and pools of fresh water. We'd splash in the water and play on the rocks. My brother and I would make fishing poles out of sticks and pretend to be fishing. After we were thoroughly saturated, we would then climb back into the car and head back home to "wait" for the night-time fireworks. As the sun began to set, we would climb back into the car and drive to the nearby county fairgrounds and stake out a "good" parking space. As darkness fell, the sky would light up with all kinds of fireworks and loud bangs would fill the air. My brother hated the loud fireworks so he'd always cover his ears. My favorite was the big puffy ones that filled up the entire sky. My mom was partial to the sparkly ones that looked like shooting stars. We would lie on the hood of the car and watch the fireworks, joining in with the crowd with the collective oohs and aahs. Then, we'd go home and chase "lightning bugs" around the yard until we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer and mom made us go to bed. I miss those days. Now, if I want to see a fireworks production, I have to head downtown around noon, stake out a 3 ft section of pavement or grass, guard it in the blazing sun all day while observing other fellow residents getting drunk and acting like morons. Then, once the 20 minutes of fireworks is over, I get to sit in my car in traffic for at least an hour just to get to the highway. I'm not too fond of crowds and I hate sitting in traffic. So-- I stayed in and watched it on TV. :) It's not the same "interactive" experience as being downtown, but I didn't have to wait in line to use the bathroom and the snacks were free. Have a safe holiday weekend everyone! (Oh--- what's up with the "emblem" thingy over there --------> I know it's the soup nazi but he kinda looks like a demonic Anthony Shaloub from MONK.)

aaaahhhh, let's hear it for long holiday weekends! I have Monday off from work and decided to take tomorrow, too, to extend the weekend just a little longer. I plan on spending some quality time trying to darken my pale pasty skin. I plan on going to the gym for some much needed pool time. I also plan on cleaning my carpets and doing a lot of nothing. I also want to get some photos developed that have been in my camera since last summer's trip to the beach. I finally finished off the roll a couple weeks ago. Yeah-- I'm one of those people who still uses old-fashioned 35mm cameras. A fancy schmancy digital camera is on my "wish list"... after a new mattress set, a set of tires for my car, and "tune up" for my car. About three years ago, I had a personal ad on a web-site for "big girls and the men who love them." Little did I know at the time of my ad placement that the website was very very adult-oriented and that 99% of the people trolling the site were looking for a little something-something. Now, I'm pretty open-minded. I'm also pretty dirty-minded. I snicker if someone says the word "hard" in a sentence. I go to adult toy parties and make sure I kept money in my checking account to buy some souvenirs. But-- when it comes to dating and romance, I'm not as bold as I talk. I want the whole getting to know you crap-- complete with romance, wooing, etc. Chemistry and sexual attraction is wonderful, too. I just don't go looking on the internet for a quick, no-names-please "discreet" encounter. That said, I naively placed an ad on this site and used words like "cuddle" and "quiet times together" and "watching movies" and "having fun with my friends" and "easy-going." All very innocent and factual phrases for describing my life when taken in context. To the men who read my ad, cuddle meant sex. Quiet times together meant sex. Watching movies meant watching porn. Having fun with friends meant I was willing to have multiple partners at once. Easy going meant that I wouldn't expect anything afterwards-- except maybe a cigarette and a slap on the rump. So, this guy sent me a response. "So-- how big are you?" he wrote. No small talk. No names. No introductions. He cut right to the chase. I asked why it mattered. He said, "Come on, you can tell me. How much do you weigh? What do you look like? What size do you wear?" I wrote that I didn't feel comfortable giving out those kinds of answers to someone I hardly knew. He wrote back and asked if I ever did any modeling or movies. I said no. He asked if I would be interested in doing any modeling or movies. I asked him what kind of movies. I wasn't seriously interested but I was curious. So, he wrote back that he liked to have really large women with rolls and rolls of fat to let him... do things ... between those rolls of fat while he filmed it and/or had friends take photos of it. Then, he asked if it was something I was qualified to do and wanted to do. He said, "We can even give you a fake name and blur your face if you want. I just ask that you give me permission to post the photos on my website." I quickly deleted the email before it had a chance to contaminate my hard drive. I also quickly logged onto to the website to check out other ads and see if maybe I had wandered into the wrong place. I had... and quickly deleted my ad as well. Just think--- if I had qualified, my 15 minutes of fame could have been as some blurry-faced mpg file that people all over the internet download every day. Eat your heart out Paris Hilton. :roll:

It's 4 months until my birthday. Birthdays have always been a big deal for me. While I was growing up, it was the one day each year I could count on being the center of attention. I was born at 6:20 a.m. so my day would always start with my mom waking me up at the precise time I was born. She would wish me a happy birthday. Then, my mom would bring Dunkin Donut munchkins (those are puffy donut holes for those who don't know) to school to "surprise" me and I'd share them with my classmates. After school, there would be cake and gifts and dinner wherever I wanted. (In those days, it was Burger King.) It was a good day! Every year, I try to do something special for my birthday. I've thrown parties and have had parties thrown for me. For a few years, a couple of friends who also had October birthdays and I would get together and go out to dinner some place nice to celebrate our mutual birthday month. Fun times. In the fall of 1997, I was feeling that "ohmigod I'm almost 30 and I'm still single" panic and started posting personal ads all over the place. "D" responded to one of them. He was a red-haired computer geek who liked movies, pool, reading and beer. We emailed a few times and even exchanged photos. A couple of weeks before my birthday, I got brave and invited him to my place for dinner. I know, I know-- who invites total strangers they meet on the internet to their house for dinner? Me! It was the first and last time. He said yes and I spent a good bit of time preparing a nice seafood fettucine, salad, and garlic bread. I even bought a cheesecake for dessert and had beer in the fridge. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach and all that. He had told me that he'd be over as soon as he got off work at 5. So... 5 pm came and went. 6 pm came and went. 7pm... The pasta got cold and congealed. The garlic bread got cold and chewy. The salad wilted. The candles on the table were almost melted. By 8 pm, I had given up. I put away the food, changed into comfy "It's Friday night and I don't have anything better to do" clothing and curled up on the sofa with the remote control. A little after 9 pm, there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole and there stood "D". I opened the door and he said hi. I said hi. He said, "I know I said I'd be here for dinner but a bunch of us went out for drinks and pool after work and I totally forgot that I told you I'd be here... and then when I remembered, I didn't have your phone number." He looked a little sheepish and his apology sounded sincere. He reeked of cigarette smoke and beer and seemed a little on the tipsy side. I said, "Why don't we try this again some other time?" He said sure. Then, we awkwardly stared at each other for a few minutes and then he left. Now... most people would have just stopped there, right? Not me. See the "glutton for punishment" stamp on my forehead? I sent him an email and said, "Hey, I'm having a birthday party, wanna come?" He wrote back yes-- that he'd love to meet my friends. So, I gave him the specifics and told a few friends that "D", a guy I had met on the 'net, was coming to my birthday party. I'm a big fan of party planning. I love to think up themes, decorations, menus, etc. I will spend months planning for a party so that everything is just right. Unfortunately, in 1997, this wasn't the case. My idea of planning for this party was to order pizza and buy some beer. I also had some snacks and non-alcoholic beverages and one co-worker brought a home-made chocolate cake to the party.... but I've gotten ahead of myself. The night of the party arrived and so did all of my friends. There were games and food and laughter and fun. And gifts. Lots and lots of fun gifts. "D" didn't show up at the time on my invite. He showed up about 30 minutes into the party. He didn't say much to my friends. I gave him points just for showing up because I'd never go to someone's party where the only person I knew was the host(ess) and not all that well. He ate my pizza, drank my beer, and sort of brooded. My friends tried to involve him. He just didn't really want any of it. Every picture of him from my party shows him standing off to one side drinking beer. I tried to get him alone to have some conversation but it was mostly small talk about the party. If I'd ask him a question, he'd take a drink of beer. Finally, I gave up and rejoined my friends, figuring he'd get bored and leave. At the end of the party, it was just down to me, him and my friend "J". He asked "J" if she had any mints or gum. She did. I got this "Uh oh, why does he want fresh breath?" moment of fear that he was going to try something. "J" hung out as long as she could but he wasn't leaving. So, she left us alone and he sort of stood there. I sort of stood there. Then, finally, he said, "Well, gotta go. Thanks for the beer." and left. After he left, I realized the mint was to disguise the beer on his breath in the event he got pulled over. Duh! As I was cleaning up, I could account for all of the beer bottles except one. I was trying to keep glass separate from the rest of the trash and I looked everywhere for the bottle. He was the only person drinking the beer and he hadn't strayed too far away from the dining room where the pizza and beer was. I was going crazy trying to find that bottle. Did he take it with him? Why did he hide it? Where did he hide it? Finally, I gave up and went to bed, writing him and the beer off. A few days later, I was dusting a bookcase in my living room and there, on the bottom shelf, in the back, behind my knicknacks, was the empty beer bottle. Whew! I was so glad to have THAT mystery solved! I heard from "D" a few times after the party but I just wasn't feeling much for him. He wasn't exactly the liveliest or most considerate person I had ever met. The only thing we really had in common was my beer. :)

Aaaaah, summer. Since everyone else seems to be posting about summer, I decided to pay homage myself before I head out for the day. I have to tell you-- I'm loving these 90+ degree days we've been having. Makes me really FEEL that it's summer. After spending so many days inside this past winter, freezing my butt off, the heat is a welcomed change. Now, don't get me wrong-- I love my A/C inside my house. I can't imagine sleeping without it. I spent the first 26 years of my life without A/C and the summers were miserable. I would go to the mall just to get out of the heat and then take a cool shower before bed, crawl into bed wet just so I could fall asleep while I was cool. I've resorted to putting sheets and pillows in the fridge and setting pans of ice water in front of the fan. I never want to go back to that. Yet-- once I'm outside, there is something wonderfully rejuvenating about just sitting there and letting the sun soak into your skin (properly SPF'd of course) and letting the heat touch your soul. When I'm in my car, I open all of the windows and let the hot air in. It's the closest to a convertible I can get. So-- bring on the heat, I say! Bring on the sun! Winter will be here way too soon and I want to stock up on this warmth while I can. Enjoy your summer! Get outside! Walk away from the forum for a few hours! The shows won't get cancelled if you don't post for a few hours, days or weeks. Now-- the pool is beckoning. As the Brady Kids would say, "It's a sunshine day..." Have a good one-- wherever you are!

My sense of direction sucks. If I'm in a mall and go into a store, when I exit the store, I have to stand in the entry for a few moments to orient myself so that I can remember if I should go left or right. It's gotten to the point that when I DO go shopping at the mall, I will "always go right". Always. That way, I don't have to worry about where I came from and where I'm going. If I'm traveling some place in my car, things like North, South, East and West mean nothing to me. I need directions like "make a left at the red house, go 4 miles, make a left onto Blahblah Street, go 5 houses, make a right at the orange house and ...." PLEASE don't tell me to go East on Front Street. Mapquest's driving directions function is great for people like me-- except I really need them to take it step further and put in landmarks like "the office you seek is across the street from the Bob Evans restaurant you see as soon as you get off the exit, dummy!" BUT... once I drive some place, it's permanently stuck in my memory. I haven't lived with my parents since the summer of 1987 and I only go "home" to visit once a year, yet I can still drive all of the backroads, highways and streets like it was just yesterday that I was living there. If you were to take me back to the college town I lived in for almost 10 years, I bet I'd probably have no problem finding my way around there, too. A couple of years ago, I placed an ad on a small private "members only" dating website. The ads were organized by area code in a "classifieds" ad format. There was no fancy search engine and the membership base was small. You had to be really looking for the site to find it. A couple of days after my ad was up and running, I got a response from "W." He was into the outdoors, ran his own computer consulting business, was in his early 30s like me, single, no kids, owned his own home, had a dog and liked to cook, travel and read. PERFECT for me. He was a really nice guy, too. Funny and sincere. We exchanged photos and he was even cute. "He must secretly be gay," said a co-worker who knew of my past habit of falling for "great guys" who ended up also liking "great guys." Nope. He wasn't gay. I asked him. He thought it was funny that I'd ask such a thing. I was smitten. I showed his picture to a few of my co-workers. He was standing on a snowy bank, with a pretty lake behind him. Outdoorsy. He didn't mind that I wasn't and we shared an interest in the beach, water, etc. So-- inevitably, he wanted to meet. I wanted to meet. I asked him to suggest a meeting spot. "Why don't we meet at the Dave and Buster's on Yaddayadda Street," he suggested in an email. "We can have a meal, play some games, grab a drink or two and just have some fun." Sounded good to me. I had lived in this city about 7 years at the time and hadn't heard of the street he had mentioned. So, I looked it up on the internet. There was no street by that name, but there was a Dave and Buster's. So, I wrote him back and asked, "Do you mean the D&B off of Blanketyblank Street?" He said no. He insisted that there was a D&B "north of Boohoo Ave, just a little east of Woohoo Blvd." (Yes, all of these streets are made up because I can't remember the actual names of the streets.) I wrote him back, "Can you be more specific? Like name some landmarks?" He did. He listed stores and shopping centers and gas stations I had never heard of. I was getting very frustrated. I wrote him and said, "Look, I'll be the first to admit that I don't know everything about Columbus, and I definitely don't know where these places are... so either you're playing with me and don't want to meet or we're living in two different cities." I was joking about the last part and praying that the first part wasn't true. He wrote back, "Did you say Columbus? Columbus, Ohio?" I wrote back, "Yes!" He wrote back, "Oh, I don't live in Columbus. I live in Minneapolis." I wrote back, "What's your area code? Mine is XXX." He wrote back, "XXY" I logged onto the website and looked at ads and sure enough, his area code was right before mine on the listing. He had looked at ads in the wrong area code. So, I did what any woman who thought she had found a good match would. I wrote him back and asked, "So, are you moving or am I?" I never heard from him again. Guess he was too embarrassed by his mistake. Too bad. I have no problem with long-distance relationships and probably would have relocated if things had worked out. :)

It's been a few days since I delighted in telling a personal ad story. It's December 1995. I was cruising the net looking for a forum much like this one where I could hang out, shoot the breeze, flirt a little, have some fun, etc at the end of a busy day. I was living in a small college town and there really wasn't much to do there after hours. I found a forum for "general merriment" and posted a brief, witty "Hi there..." message in the "Welcome" section of the forum. I had mentioned in my blurb that I was a struggling romance writer, hoping to sound interesting and cerebral. I received a warm welcome and quickly jumped into the forum with gusto. Posting like crazy--- like I do here-- about all kinds of things. This guy, "JK", kept responding to my posts and would slide in these little flirty comments from time to time. After a couple of weeks, he sent me a private post telling me how much he enjoyed my writing and asked me if I had anything that I'd written off-the-boards that he could read. (i.e my fledging romance novel.) I know what you're thinking-- the romance novel was a ploy I had used before to meet men, but this time I was actually working on a story. So, I took "JK" up on his offer and emailed him a scenario I had been working on. He wrote me back and told me he loved the story and asked me if I was anything like the female character. I said yes-- that she was a lot like me and a lot like who I wanted to be someday. He asked for more. So, I gave him more. Within days, we were writing about our personal lives and sharing our hopes and dreams. He was very smooth. He always seemed to say the right thing and was very in tune with what women want from a man. I was wooed. He lived in San Diego and there was a three-hour time difference so I would stay up late to get his emails or wake up early to get them. Sometimes, I would run home at lunch to see if he had emailed me. We would send each other these Q&A type e-mails asking everything from "what's your favorite food?" to "if you could have dinner with one person dead or alive, who would it be?" Then, one cold January day in 1996, he sent me an email stating that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me. I was giddy... and scared. I'd heard of on-line romances that turned into the real thing. One of my friends in the forum had met his fiance on line and another one of my friends was involved in her own on line romance at the same time and we would compare notes. Love at no sight? Is it possible? Do I dare hope that I had won a man over based on my brains and personality? Hoorah! Call the press! So-- I wrote him back that I had feelings, too, but wasn't sure what they were. He said, "No rush. Let's give it 6 months. Then, if we're still together in 6 months, you'll come out here and visit for awhile and see how things go." He then started telling me about all of the places he wanted to take me and how wonderful things were going to be once I got out there. I said, "JK, don't you think it's time we exchange photos? Maybe even talk on the phone?" He said, "Sure. Send me your photo and I'll send you mine." So, I sent him an email with my photo attached. I waited eagerly for his "I'm so glad to finally see your face" or "It's nice to see what you look like." He loved me, right? Looks would be secondary to his love for me. One day became two. Two became three. Finally, I sent him an email saying, "Hey, did you get my photo?" He wrote me back that yes, he had gotten my photo and said, "I thought you said you were like the woman in your story." I said that I was like the woman in my story. He said, "No. You described her as being petite, curvy, girl-next-door wholesome with a touch of sexiness in her eyes..." I said, "Well, those are her physical traits, yes, I'm a little like that but I had to change them a little for the purpose of the book." He wrote back, "You're not what I expected. You need to lose some weight. Before you come out here in June, you need to look like the girl in your story. You won't fit in with my friends looking like you do." Now, before you think I'm some hulking green ogre, that is NOT the case.... and 10 years ago, I was younger, thinner and "sassier" than I am now. I should have been outraged, right? Wrong. I panicked. I APOLOGIZED to him for not being what he wanted and PROMISED him that I would be slimmer and sexier by the time June rolled around. Things started to go downhill after that. He was always criticizing me and making fat jokes in his emails. All of the charm was gone... and oh, his picture? He kept "forgetting" to send it. So, one day, I told him I really needed to establish a "real link" and asked for a photo, a phone number, something that proved that he was real. So, he emailed me an address, phone number and a photo. At first, I couldn't see the photo because he had sent it in a format my computer didn't recognize. So, I had to get a friend to open the file for me. I was surprised at what I saw. "JK" had described himself as average height, average weight, sandy colored hair, mid-30s, average looks. The man in the photo looked like David Crosby (from Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young music fame.) He had to be in his late 40s. He had a beer belly and receding hairline. His hair was sandy colored and on the frizzy side. He had a mustache and pasty skin. Standing beside him were two boys in their mid-teens. I sent him an email asking who the people were in the photo. He wrote back that it was him and his two sons--- which he had never mentioned. Then, at a friend's encouragement, I called the phone #. I asked for "JK" and the boy who answered the phone said, "I'm JK." I said, "No... I'm looking for your father, then." The boy said, "My dad's name is "TS"." I said oh and hung up. I did a directory search for the "TS" name and sure enough, there he was-- with the same address and phone # that he had given me. So, I sent him an email asking him who exactly he was and what was going on. He wrote me back that he was TS, a 45 yr old single father with two sons-- 15 and 16. He was not originally from the US and was hoping to become a permanent resident. The boys had been the result of a short relationship with a woman whom he didn't marry and who hadn't wanted the kids so they had been living with her family in San Diego. He wanted to move here to be with them but needed an American wife to stay in the country. He said he had used his son's name on-line so that no one could track him down. He said that he had wanted a beautiful young wife to help raise the boys and although I wasn't what he wanted "physically", he figured I would still marry him because my "chances of finding someone were probably slim." I wrote him back that he was wrong and told him some things that a lady probably wouldn't have said, fueled by the Alanis Morrissette CD JAGGED LITTLE PILL that I had just purchased. I wallowed in man-hating angst for awhile, developed a thicker skin and jumped back into the race. Morale of this story: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. ;)