Live and Let Date

The Motherhood Decision

2009-03-26T15:45:09Z

Liza defends her choice to not have kids.

By Liza Persky

I was having dinner the other night with a group of old friends who I hadn't seen since we had all worked together on a small cable show about 10 years ago. We were going around the table and getting caught up on what we had been doing since then, and were all somewhat horrified that the last time we'd seen each other the world had not yet heard of Paris Hilton and the phrase, "Call me on my landline," didn't make sense, since there were no other options.

]]> American Idol" winners I had proudly voted for, it was Andrew's turn to fill us in. He was still with Beth, who he was dating back then, and they had been married six years now. It was so weird to think of him being married for that long already, since he seemed like such a baby back then. Meanwhile, he's now 38, which makes me....older: 41 to be exact.

After he showed us a few recent photos of him and Beth on vacation I looked at him and said, "Ok, I'm gonna ask you the question I'm sure EVERYONE asks you, but, are you and Beth going to have kids?" He let out a sigh and was about to respond when he stopped himself. He looked at me and said, "Wow. Actually, that's not the question everyone asks. They don't ask IF, they ask WHEN?" He looked shocked, and actually, relieved. I told him I would never assume anyone was going to have kids. Maybe that's because I'm most likely not going to have them myself. And here's the reason: It's not because I'm single, or because I'm busy, or because I'm unable to for some medical reason. It's simply because, I don't want them. There. I said it. Still with me??

Whenever I tell people that I don't want kids they look sad for me, and start to question if I'm sure. If there's anything people should be "sure" about it's whether they ARE going to have kids. Nobody says, "Are you sure you're making the right choice?" when you decide to get pregnant, or adopt, go through childbirth and then take care of another human being, good or bad, the rest of your life, providing for it, both emotionally and financially. Isn't THAT something one should be sure about? For me I'm just deciding to live my life the same way I've lived it for 41 years. If I'm not sure how to do that by now, well, then I probably shouldn't be having kids in the first place.

People are so uncomfortable with the idea of a woman not wanting to have kids. They always have to make it about something else. Like, "Some women wait too long and forget to have kids." I may "forget" to pay my cable bill, but I'm pretty sure carrying another human being in my stomach for nine months isn't something I'm gonna "forget to do." Then there's the whole, "Focused on career and was too busy" argument. Just so we're clear, here's how I spent my day today. I woke up at 10:00, watched "Rachel Ray," went to the gym, followed a soap star home from the supermarket, came home, ate cereal, read Us magazine, Skyped with my sister, and wrote this blog post. Time is not really my issue.

I wish people would appreciate the fact that some of us have just chosen to do what's right for us. It has nothing to do with them, but for some reason they seem to take it personally. You'd think with the Octomom, people would start to look at the decision to not have kids a little differently. Nobody seemed to ask her, "Are you sure?" and look how that worked out.

By the end of dinner we had all shared our stories, and it was great to see each other again. Andrew gave me a huge hug goodbye and looked me in the eye and said, "Thank you. This is the first time in a long time I have left a group of friends and not felt like I was some sort of freak because I may not want to have kids." I hugged him, took out my Us magazine, headed for the subway and thought to myself, "My work here is done."

Seasons of Love

2009-03-19T20:06:23Z

The challenges of dating during the warm-weather months.

By Liza Persky

There are certain phenomena's that happen in life that make being single even harder than it already is. The holiday's...High School reunions...weddings...funerals...brunch. But, the biggest of all: Daylight Savings Time. You may not immediately be aware of why it makes it harder, but that's why I'm here. To remind you that, as bad as you might feel, it actually can get worse. You're welcome.

]]> falling back in November, but we're about two weeks into Daylight Savings and we've all sprung forward, though, if you've taken a look around lately, instead of looking "sprung," everybody looks like they've been shot up with horse tranquilizers. In any case, we now have an extra hour of daylight....to be single. It's hard enough coming home at the end of the day alone when it's pitch black, now I head home and it looks mid day. And even if I do have a date, it's bad news. I have a tendency to not like, or to go on, daytime dates. I just think a date is something you do by moonlight, looking at this person across from you, drinking Martini's and feeling young, free, and full of possibility. That, and frankly, I look better in the dark.

While most would agree that the change of seasons is a welcome site, my version of them looks a little bit different than most. Here it is: Fall, Winter, Spring and Dating! To me summer means two things: Marina, my waxer, will be seeing me more than she sees her family, and dating is at it's optimal time. You might think this is a good thing, but I have enough pressure to find a boyfriend when everyone is miserable and cold and doesn't want to leave the house. When the sun is shining and it's still 70 degrees at night, what's my excuse for not wanting to get off my couch? In the early 90's I relied on, "I'm expecting an important call." Well, technology screwed that up for me. Damn you AT&T.

Then there's the wardrobe. There's just no way to hide a slight case of water retention due to a previous nights sushi dinner when it's 85 degrees out. A shirt and tank top are just not gonna do the trick. In the winter as long as you wear a sweater that's slightly tight enough to show you have even the vaguest hint of boobs it's considered sexy.

I used to love Summer. But that was back in the day when "playing games" literally meant Marco Polo. There's just no way around that fact that warm weather is meant for lovers, and with Daylight savings it just allows you to see the lovers for an extra hour a day. So what's a single girl to do? I wish those brainiacs over at NASA would figure out of there's water on the moon already, because with the low humidity and constant darkness, that's looking like my best bet.

Spoke Too Soon (and Too Much)

2009-03-12T18:33:05Z

Why do women feel the need to bare it all on a first date?

By Liza Persky

Well, this day was a total waste of makeup. There's almost nothing worse than looking really good and having nobody see you other than your mailman, who I'm pretty sure feels sorry for me every time he puts another envelope from "Speed Dating Spectacular" in my mailbox.

]]> The Today Show's plaza ambush makeovers.

So, it's the day after, and I'm thinking back on the date and trying to discern why I feel anxious. It can't just be that I didn't like the way I looked, which, as sad as it may sound, is some real personal growth -- so what is it?

We met at a bar in my neighborhood. He walked in and he was ten times more attractive than he looked in his picture, which, for those who aren't familiar with the online dating world, pretty much happens as often as one of the couples on The Bachelor actually gets married. Shoot, I just fell off the not-talking-about-The- Bachelor wagon. I was three days sober, too. Damn.

Sam sat down and I was immediately was nervous. Usually, on these dates, I feel pretty good. So many women lie about their age, weight, and various other physical characteristics, but I'm pretty comfortable with the fact that I look like the picture they've seen on my profile.

We ordered drinks and he asked me where else I liked to go in the neighborhood, and I think that was pretty much the last thing he said for the rest of the night. It wasn't because he didn't have anything to offer - rather, I didn't really give him a chance to offer. For some reason, my nerves turned me into the chattiest girl on the planet. I told him pretty much all there is to know about me. Everything, from the fact that I'm a twin, that I have a love of 80s television (which I think I followed up with a pitchy version of the Growing Pains theme song), that I went to a nudist colony as a kid and am still not over watching naked people playing tennis, that I'm giving serious consideration to bringing back the wine cooler, that I haven't painted my apartment for fifteen years, that I have a true love for those Jimmy Dean sausage ads with the guy playing the sun, and that I still own a Walkman.

I don't know what came over me. I wanted him to like me so much that I just kept going and going and going. I'd just met the guy and here I was throwing everything about myself at a wall and hoping something would stick. It left me feeling very exposed, somewhat gross and a wee bit pathetic. Then it dawned on me: I wanted to show him all the parts of me to feel some kind of connection.

Basically, I'd emotionally slept with him on the first date! Why did I need to reveal so much of myself? Where's the Sex and The City episode about THAT! I can't be the only one who's experienced something like this. Women spend all this time worrying about having sex on the first date and the guy not respecting us in the morning, and, truthfully, I'll take that any day over how I feel right now, which is me not respecting myself. This is the kind of pain I don't even think a wine cooler can alleviate.

Recession Dating

2009-03-05T18:02:36Z

Who picks up the tab during a recession?

By Liza Persky

I was at a doctor's appointment the other day and went through my usual waiting room ritual of picking up every magazine looking for one I hadn't read yet. There's nothing as satisfying as coming across an issue of US Weekly, looking at the date, and seeing that it's that week's issue, which you haven't bought yet.   It's like coming across a brand new pair of 7 Jeans in your closet that you; don't remember buying, you've never worn, and they fit PERFECTLY.

]]> Men will be Men."    The article is about what is happening to the men in society now that a big percentage of them are losing their jobs, saying, "Most guys still derive the bulk of their self esteem from their work, which makes the latest unemployment data ominous for the male ego." As if dating wasn't hard enough, now we have to make sure their ego is stroked without them thinking we're after their money

I'll be honest. Even before the recession, money has kind of been an issue on the dates I go on.   I always offer to pay my half, since I get the feeling from men that, in this day of online dating, where the playing field is pretty even, it's expected.   I assumed that most women were doing the same. Well, boy was I wrong. As I read the article further it talked about a new club that has sprung up called, DABA, which stands for "Dating A Banker Anonymous." It's a site where women who have been affected by the recession, in that, "Bottle service has all but disappeared in your life," can go and vent about not being wined and dined like the good old days. Who are these women?? Alexis Carrington?

I think the last time I was wined and dined was on my 21st birthday, when my boyfriend at the time took me out to celebrate. And he got off cheap, since after one Fuzzy Navel I was ready to check myself into Promises.

I've pretty much always paid my own way in relationships. My ex, Jerry, and I had an interesting arrangement. He didn't have a checking account and I did, so we decided he would pay for everything that took cash and I would pay everything that took credit. So, I paid for the washer and dryer, and he paid for brunch.

I went on a date not so long ago and, like usual, offered to pay my half. He not only took me up on it, but after adding up the bill, noticed that I had one more glass of wine than he did, and had me pay MORE! I wonder if any of those DABA girls have ever experienced that?! No. They're pissed if they're dinner isn't only paid for, but doesn't come with a nice bottle of Cristal. I'm not sure who I'm more annoyed with. Guys who tend to conveniently remember equal rights, when it suits them, or women like these DABA girls who make men think we're all gold diggers. I wish I never knew about any of this. It just makes being single even harder. But, I guess that's what I get for reading Newsweek. US weekly would never hurt me like that.

He's Just Not That Into You

2009-02-26T16:09:45Z

Liza grudgingly sees the truth in stereotypes.

By Liza Persky

So, after two weeks, many reviews, and much anticipation, I finally saw, "He's Just Not That Into You." I've been doing a lot of talking about this movie, and it dawned on me that every time I say the words, "he's just not that into you," it possibly could attract negative results. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you obviously don't TIVO "Oprah" every day, and you most likely don't have a worn out, dog-eared copy of "The Secret" lying next to your bed. But, odds are you have a life. Good for you.

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I have mixed feelings about the movie. It was filled with every stereotype you can imagine, which can feel false sometimes, but the truth is they all were pretty dead on.

It's been marketed as an ensemble cast, but it mostly focused on one character, Gigi, played by Ginnifer Goodwin. I had a lot of issues with her -- and no, it's not because she spells Jennifer with a G and I. "Gigi" is supposed to represent every girl who's ever been single, and the whole story is told through her DESPERATE search for love. The problem is, she looks about 22 years old. When I was 22, the only thing I was desperate for was a hair mousse that would dissolve properly so it didn't look like I was walking around with marshmallows on my head. Instead of coming off as a character deserving love, and someone we could root for, "Gigi" looks like one big, needy, red flag walking around in an old flannel jacket (which, by the way, could be why she can't get a guy to call her back).

The other main characters are: Jennifer Connolly, who's in a sexless marriage with a very cute Bradley Cooper; Scarlett Johansson, who's having an affair with Bradley Cooper, all the while stringing poor, love-struck Kevin Connolly along, Drew Barrymore, who I'm not really sure why she's there except to show us how technology has gotten in the way of communicating and we were better off dating in the good old days; and Jennifer Aniston, who's been dating Ben Affleck for seven years and can't get him to marry her, and whose wardrobe I covet in every film she does; and Justin Long who plays the straight tell-it-like-it-is everyman, who counsels "Gigi" on what she's doing wrong in her pursuit of love.

To me, the best part of the movie was the first five minutes, where different groups of girlfriends reassure one another that 'he'll call' with every lame excuse of why 'he hasn't' that you've ever heard or said. I dare any girl to watch those scenes and not see themselves in them. The film really points out how we will rationalize with anything -- even if we use one of my personal favorites, "Maybe he got hit by a car and died" -- to get the answer we want.

I don't want to suggest that the audience I saw this with was desperate for love, but, when one character in the film got proposed to, there were loud gasps and cheers. I'm pretty sure that if instead of, "Will you marry me?" the character had said, "I just cured cancer," you would have been able to hear a pin drop.

When all is said and done, although I didn't love the movie there was some truth to its message. And the next time I'm waiting for that second-date call from a guy who said, "Let's do this again," I'll know better than to waste my time staring at the phone; I'll just stalk him, like the good old days.

He May Be Into You

2009-02-19T22:17:32Z

Liza explores the phenomenon of the reappearing man.

By Liza Persky

Well, we've seen the posters, read the book, watched the "Sex and The City" episode more times than we care to admit, and now it's playing at our local theater: "He's Just Not That Into You," the movie, or, as I like to call it, The Religion. ]]> I have been looking forward to this movie ever since I read that it was being made, about a year ago. It's been out a couple of weeks but I haven't seen it yet. The problem is, I have promised to see it with so many different girlfriends I'm somewhat paralyzed in my desire to please everyone, which right there might explain why many men have not been that into me. Frankly, I'M not that into me. I don't know when this whole saving movies for certain people thing started, but I wouldn't mind if it went the way of the Ugg.

I remember when I first saw the episode of that "Sex and the City" that brought this issue into the mainstream. I, like many women, thought, "DUH!" I don't think that was a huge surprise to most of us. We pretty much suspected if a guy wasn't calling it didn't mean that he was excited to introduce us to his parents, but, for some reason, when we heard Greg Behrendt say it in his straightforward and straight guy way, suddenly it was like figuring out the mystery of the Sphinx.

But, there may be a new phenomenon taking place that seems rampant in me and my single girl friends' dating lives. I call it, "He IS into you....right this minute." Unlike the Greg Behrendt philosophy, which explains why a guy may not be calling you, or inviting you up, or making the second date, this would cover the even more mysterious situation, where you go on a few dates with a guy, you don't hear from him for days or weeks, and suddenly you get an email: "Hey. What's up? Wanna get together?" Where do they go in-between the great last date you had and the, "Hey. What's up" email two weeks later? We women may get the whole, "He's just not that into us," but what are we supposed to do with the, "He's into me sometimes," dilemma? I decided it was time to bring in an expert, which in this case means a straight man.

I called my friend, Brad, and asked him why these guys pop up after weeks of not calling or emailing, suddenly seeming like they want to hang out, like no time has passed? Like we haven't written about it in our journals, talked about it in therapy, dissected it over coffee, stalked them at their apartment on Friday nights...woops, well, maybe just once, three years ago. But he was tall. You understand.

I asked Brad, "What is it? Is it that they have needed the time to digest their feelings and to put some real thought and care into how and if they are ready for a commitment with us?" Brad's response: "Did you girls sleep with them?" I wanted to say it was none of his business, but, since I brought him into this Jackie Collins novel, I felt like it was my duty to see it through. I asked him what that had to do with it. He said he would bet me dinner and a movie that the girls I was talking about in this scenario most likely slept with the guy on the first or second date, and the reason for the call weeks later: he was horny. That's it. Plain and simple. I decided to test his theory and I called five girlfriends who had recently complained about the mixed signals. All five of them slept with their guys on the first or second date.

Could it really be that simple? We've always heard that it's bad to sleep with a guy on the first date because he won't respect you, but how do you explain this? Brad said when it comes down to it guys are very simple creatures. When they're hungry they eat, when they're thirsty they drink, and when they're horny they screw.

Turns out Brad won that bet. I guess I know who I'm going to see, "He's Just Not That Into You," with. Sorry girls.

The Most Romantic Night Ever

2009-02-12T17:31:05Z

Liza on why Valentines Day is really wasted on couples.

By Liza Persky

I got an email from my friend Donna today that said, "Do you wanna go to an anti-Valentines day party with me on the 12th? It's called: The Big Screw: Who needs love when you have booze and beer pong?

First of all, until you've actually BEEN to one of these things, you really can't believe that, as sucky as being single is, these kind of events actually make you feel worse than EVER.

]]> A Beautiful Mind." I wasn't sure what was on those papers but I wouldn't have been surprised if it was some sort of dossier titled, "Women I loved...TO DEATH!"

The other annoying thing about this invite from my Donna is that it's on the 12th. What kind of dumb planning is that? If I'm attending an, "Anti-Valentines Day Party," wouldn't it be safe to assume that the 14th is WIDE OPEN?

But as much as February 14th becomes a day you fear when you're single do you wanna know who really dreads it? New couples. I mean talk about pressure. This is, by most accounts, the Most Romantic Night of your year. It's where everyone has to show their significant other how they really feel, and make it count. Who needs the pressure? I worry about how my hair looks on a dusty Tuesday, God forbid humidity is high on the 14th.

We all know that Valentines Day is a Hallmark Holiday at this point, and it's marketed to make us feel like we should be doing something special, not that we want to. If you're curious to know how truly unimportant Valentines Day is in the world of love and companionship, you know who you should ask? A married person. I called my sister, who's been happily married ten years and asked her what she's doing for Valentines Day, and she said, "When is it?"

My friend Sarah who's been married 12 years has big plans for dinner and drinks on Valentines Day, with her college girlfriends.

And when I called my oldest friend Maggie who's been with her husband Bob for 15 years she said, "Liza, with Bob every day is Valentines Day," before I could hang up on her she laughed and said she was kidding. She was pretty sure she'd be home alone since Bob is traveling.

So while all my married girlfriends are as interested in Valentines Day as they are about the upcoming schedule for Ultimate Cage Fighting, and new couples are feeling the pressure to come up with the most romantic and meaningful night of their lives,
I'll be happy if my deli guy Mohammad gives me free bag of Licorice Nibs like he did last year. That really meant a lot to me, and unlike so many people who take their boyfriends and girlfriends for granted, that little gesture stayed with me all year. In fact, when it comes down to it, Valentines Day is really wasted on couples, it's us singles out there who can take a little piece of chewy candy and turn it into the most romantic night ever.

Virtual Intimacy

2009-02-05T21:49:03Z

How soon is too soon to friend a date?

By Liza Persky

I'm a big fan of Facebook, but I am in a situation which is making me rethink my devotion to it. I went on two dates with a cute guy recently. Let's call him Kevin, because that's his name. So Kevin and I have been getting along well, and I actually think there might be a chance of something that lasts longer than "Secret Talents of Stars" did.

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So, as I sit here and weigh the pros and cons of what to do, I'm aware it's pretty much all cons. Let's see. Here is a list of things I would NOT want a potential boyfriend to know or see:

The photo of the day I came out of the gym after a night of eating chicken wings with my friends
The fact that I "Became a fan of 'Blossom'"
That I've been "poked" more times than I care to remember
That on the "What 'Sex and the City' character are you?" test, I came out as Miranda

Or what about my status updates? Here are some of the updates I would have thought twice about posting had I known a new man in my life was reading them:

Liza is "Wondering if she can wait till spring to shave her legs"
Liza is "Thinking about why she hates beer"
Liza is "Not a fan of the movie "Caddyshack"
Liza is "Thinking she has Mono....again"
Liza is "So excited to see "Nights in Rodanthe"
Liza "Thinks she looks fat in this"
Liza "Wonders if she'll ever learn to cook"
Liza is "Excited for another Saturday night of beauty at home ... mud mask here I come"

See my problem? It's not that I'm ashamed of who I am; I just don't need a stranger with relationship potential to know my flaws quite yet. I guess I need to be a grownup here and do the thing that just makes life a whole lot easier. Anyone out there want to meet me at My Space?

Boys and Toys

2009-01-29T17:01:22Z

The quickest way to man's heart is through his...gadgets.

By Liza Persky

There's something weird happening in the world of technology, and I'm not talking about the fact the people still have rabbit ears on their televisions. It seems me, and several of my girlfriends are finding, that a way to man's heart is through his gadgets. That sounds a lot more sexy than it is, but I'll give you a specific example: ]]>
I'm already trying to figure out what other machinery problems I might have in my life that he can help me with? I like him so much I'm literally thinking about buying a printer after our next date so I can be sure to get another night with him.

I asked around and it turns out that I'm not the only woman who is using technology to get a guys attention. I was on the phone with my friend Melissa the other day who I hadn't even posed the question to yet, and she said, "I wonder why Michael hasn't called for our date we're supposed to have Saturday. He was so excited about coming over to help me with my iPhone." Eureka!

I asked my single friend Danielle if she's experienced anything like this recently and she said, "Why do you think I'm spending the weekend at Best Buy? I have a date on Monday and 'I'm thinking of buying a the new Mac Pro,' is the perfect icebreaker."

In the end I'm not sure what this really says about women. Is the reason these guys are so anxious to help us with our technological needs because they like showing off so we'll like them, or is really that, ultimately, given the choice, men would rather play with their toys?

The Pick Up

2009-01-22T16:21:29Z

Sometimes, a one-liner isn't necessary.

By Liza Persky

It's been slow in the dating department for me and I don't think I can use the holidays as an excuse anymore. I've stretched the "it's the holiday's" excuse all the way until March before. You'd be surprised how many holiday's you can find when you really apply yourself, or when your desperate enough for an excuse as to why your phone hasn't rung. Every calendar month has an opportunity for a non-dating rationalization. Last February, when I didn't hear from Anthony, I decided he gave up calling me for Lent. See how it works? ]]> Just when I thought all was lost, and I'd have to think of a way to use "Deep Vein Thrombosis Awareness Month" as an excuse for no calls, I got a date. We "met" on Match.com. He commented that he loved my hair in my profile photo. I looked at my profile photo and realized the hair in the photo was not the same hair that was on my head. I needed a haircut. I called my salon and luckily there was an opening the next day.

I don't know about you, but I tend to be a little co-dependant when I'm getting my hair cut (or when I'm breathing) and I just don't feel comfortable reading a magazine when someone is showing me some TLC, especially on my hair! Open-heart surgery would feel less vulnerable. So, as usual, I thought about what I could say that would lend itself to an easy conversation. For future reference, "How did you meet your fiancé?" should NOT be that question. The story was SO long, it became one of those situations where the person cutting your hair is so involved telling you the story, that you're not even sure they are paying attention to what they're doing to your hair. Had I known the story covered seven years I may have changed my conversation topic to, "Where'd you get that pretty charm bracelet?" The gist of the story was that Ana, who is about 100 pounds overweight, met Pernell at a club. They danced, made out on the dance floor, and he had her half way naked by the end of some Usher song. I guess I gave her a look because she then said, "Are you judging me for that?" All I know is this lady was holding a pair of scissors and my bangs in her hand. She could have said, "I then beat six helpless puppies....with a baby seal," and I would have told her they had it coming. The story escalated to the night they were finally going to have sex. She just knew he was going to be so good in bed that she wouldn't be able to even look at another man ever again. She was very insecure about what to wear, being a plus size woman, and chose some sort of chiffon robe. He got there, with flowers and wine, they sat on the couch, got a little drunk, started kissing, and then according to her, "the next thing that happened was ALL I remember and the most amazing thing ANY man has EVER done to me.....HE PICKED ME UP!" That was it. She doesn't remember the sex, the night spent cuddling, the morning after, or even what he looked like naked.

I have to say, I understand where she's coming from. I can't remember every man I've ever been out with, but I sure as hell remember the ones who picked me up. I have a feeling I'm not alone. Think about the first thing that happens when you arrive at your new home as man and wife. You get carried over the threshold. And, what scene comes to mind when you think of the epic love story, "Gone With the Wind?" There's even a sport devoted to husbands who can carry their wives through an obstacle course, and you wouldn't believe how happy these women look.

I'm not saying that this is the MOST important thing a man has to offer a woman, but if I do have any men reading this blog, let me give you a little advice: the next time you're trying to think of a pick-up line, you may just want to consider a more literal approach.

Men at Work

2009-01-15T19:31:47Z

On finding the perfect relationship...with a group of construction workers.

By Liza Persky

I was coming home from work the other day, and by work I mean my hour-long trip to Sephora looking for my favorite glitter eye pencil, and I found a note in the lobby of my building that said, "Public Notice." About a year ago a similar note was put up, and it went on to say that, starting that weekend, construction was going to begin on the 22-story high rise going up next door, and that the street would be closed to through traffic. It ended by saying, "We're all very excited about the project and hope you are too." Yeah, nothing gets me excited like 7:00 a.m. jack hammering.

]]> Ultimate Cage Fighting, were lined up sitting on the ground eating pizza. I had no choice but to keep moving. I thought about crossing the street and walking home on the other side, but, co-dependently, I didn't want them to feel bad. Something tells me Oprah would NOT call that an "AHA moment."

And, just when you think that embarrassing catcalls are the worst part of neighborhood construction, then come the mice. I have lived in my building for sixteen years (we Tauruses don't do well with change), and had NEVER seen a mouse. I once thought I did, but was relieved to discover it was only my Crabtree and Evelyn drawer sachet. I remember putting that thing in my dresser in 1992, and honestly thinking the smell of Lavender and Tuberose on my bras would DEFINITELY help me land a husband. Well, the fact that it ended up in the corner of my bedroom collecting dust tells you how THAT worked out.

No, this time it was the real thing. And, trust me, there's no confusing the difference between a real mouse and a single girl's desperate attempt at femininity. I don't care if you are the coolest, toughest, just-one-of-the-guys type of girl around -- when you see a mouse in your house you turn into Wilma Flintstone. I may even have said, "Eeek!" I decided that construction had brought the mouse into my house, and one of those construction workers was going to get it out. I marched down the stairs, went outside, walked up to the biggest guy I saw, and said, "I have a mouse!" I don't know what my crazy eyes must have looked like, but this huge man looked more afraid of me than I was of my mouse. He told me to go back upstairs and that he would be over soon. Twenty minutes later he arrived, with three traps and a jar of peanut butter. It was the most excited I was to have a man in my apartment since....ever! Next thing I knew, a mouse was caught, and I had a brand new jar of peanut butter.

Then there was the day I had my makeup done at the MAC counter at Bloomingdale's. I had a date that night and figured it couldn't hurt -- until I looked in the mirror. What part of, "I like the natural look," sounds like, "Tammy Faye Baker was my idol?" Walking up my street, towards my apartment, I was bracing myself for the looks and off-color remarks. Instead, what I got was, "Hey. You look like a movie star." I'm not sure what movies these guys are watching, but honestly I was flattered.

After going down construction memory lane in my head, I decided to read the note. It didn't say they were closing off the street. It said they were tearing down the scaffolding and wrapping up the job. It's over. But, instead of feeling happy, I feel kind of....lonely. As much as I have been inconvenienced, those guys kind of grew on me. Sure, they made me uncomfortable on the walk home a few times, but in a way it was nice to know they were there every day. It was kind of the perfect relationship. I never wondered where they were, or what they were doing, or who they were doing it with. And, where else am I gonna meet a guy I see every single day, who never gets sick of me? And what am I gonna do if I ever have a mouse again? Well, all I can say is, thank God for my deli guys.

No Hollywood Endings

2009-01-08T16:06:36Z

Our blogger reworks some classic romantic comedies for New Year's Eve.

By Liza Persky

So, it's come and gone and I survived it once again, and I'm not talking about the day-after-Christmas sale at Bloomingdales. Although I am starting to feel like there should be some sort of Purple Heart given for those that survive that battle, I'm talking about New Year's Eve. Some girls feel that Valentine's Day is the hardest day of the year to be single, but, for me, it's New Year's Eve. I think it's because of something I heard once: the way you spend New Year's Eve will be a direct indication of how you spend the rest of the year. It has somewhat traumatized me ever since, but that's what you get for living your life according to a one-day intensive at The Learning Annex.

]]> Best of Tori Amos CD collection. My friend, Miranda, said I could come with her and do the Midnight Run in Central Park. Again, a very nice offer, but to even have a chance at meeting a guy on New Year's Eve it's not going to be with pony-tail hair and snot coming out of my nose. And my friend, Sam, invited me to a gay bar where they apparently all get naked at midnight. I'd have a better chance with the snot scenario.

Since none of my choices seemed viable, I decided to not cave to peer pressure and to just do what I really wanted to do: stay home and watch a movie. My choice was easy: "When Harry Met Sally". It's not only one of my favorite movies, but I felt like it was meant to be since the ending of the movie takes place on New Year's Eve. What I failed to remember is that the end of that movie makes "Schindler's List" look like a Vince Vaughn comic romp, at least to a single girl.

No sooner did I regret my choice when a friend emailed me an article she had just read, "Are Romantic Comedies Bad for Real-Life Romance?"
The article starts by asking

Do romantic comedies create and foster impossible expectations? Are women doomed to disappointment when no man can possibly measure up to Lloyd Dobbler (Say Anything), William Thacker (Notting Hill) or Joe Fox (You've Got Mail)?

Why couldn't I have read this on, say December 30th? It would have spared me a night of sitting on my couch and doing the ugly cry. But, instead of just feeling sorry for myself, and to spare any other girls from being in the same situation, I have come up with a perfect idea: watch all the romantic comedies you want, but just turn them off before they get to the end. I mean, seriously. What's in the middle of every romantic comedy, besides a montage set to a Harry Connick Jr. song? The middle is when everything is falling apart. Here are a few suggestions:

"Pretty Woman":
If you turn it off half way through, you only know that, after a fight and a black eye, Julia Roberts regretfully leaves the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, never to see Richard Gere again simply because he doesn't know where she lives.

"You've Got Mail"

Turn it off half way and Meg Ryan just thinks that her email suitor never showed up at the café because he found someone else to banter with and she'll be left to a life of unemployment and celibacy.

"Jerry Maguire"

Turn it off half way and Renee Zelwegger thinks Tom Cruise cares more about business than he does her, and she never has a chance to be gotten at "Hello."

Romantic comedies may set women up for a lifetime of disappointment, but, as far as I'm concerned, seeing Julia, Meg and Renee end up alone actually makes me feel like things are looking up.

Marry Christmas

2008-12-24T16:27:53Z

Sexy black leather boots -- not a fondue set -- tops our blogger's Christmas wish list.

By Liza Persky

When I was a kid Christmas meant one thing and one thing only: Presents. Well, it also meant that, being Jewish, I was denying the beliefs, practices, history and tradition of my family's heritage, but really, we focused on the presents. My twin sister and I would sit back to back racing to see who could open our gifts first, since invariably we would get the same things, and then we would spend hours playing with our toys, art supplies, Barbie's, and during one particularly unattractive year, our TVs "Blossom" fan club membership, which came complete with the exclusive "Blossom's favorite flowery hats" collection.

]]> Now, as an adult, the gifts have changed, but they are none-the-less appreciated and cherished, except, possibly, for this year. The following is a list of what I got for Christmas from my family:

A Microwave
Flatware
A down comforter
A cutting board
A Fondue Set
Terrycloth towels
An alarm clock
Salad bowls

After itemizing my gifts one thing seems clear: Either there was a dollar sale at Bed, Bath and Beyond, or my family has given up on the idea of me ever getting married and have resorted to buying me the things I will NEVER get from a wedding registry. Considering today's economy, I'm going with the second option. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but couldn't they have thrown in a Juicy Couture sweat suit to at least throw me off the trail? I know I'm not the first single girl to bemoan the idea of registries only being recognized if you're part of a couple, I mean, "Sex and the City" did a whole episode where Carrie registers herself for a pair of shoes, which her friend (whom Carrie had spent plenty of dough on for her wedding and new baby) reluctantly buys in congratulations of Carrie's decision to not wed. But I'm kind of out on the whole idea of registering to begin with.

The concept of registering started a long time ago in 1924 , and lets face it, when our grandparents, or even parents, were getting married, it was pretty much right out of college. In those days they graduated, got married and then moved in together. They really didn't have anything of their own at the time, since before then they'd been living at home. They actually NEEDED a 4-piece set of measuring cups. But now, it's not about getting stuff, it's about getting NEW, better stuff. I don't deny the fact that I need some of the items I listed above, but for Christmas? I feel a little gypped. I mean, isn't it enough that all my engaged girlfriends not only got Christmas and then a SEPARATE occasion for them to get their registered presents, but they ALSO got a husband. Am I being punished for being a late bloomer, or maybe more pointedly, for discovering laser hair removal a little later in life?? It doesn't seem fair.

I called my married friend Kate to see what she got for Christmas. The list included perfume, Skinny jeans and a pair of sexy black leather knee high boots. Did it ever occur to my family that maybe buying me a pair of sexy leather boots might HELP me find a husband? I mean give me a fighting chance.

When all is said and done I realize my family means well, but I also know this: If I ever DO get married, I'm registering for a pair of sexy black leather boots, and maybe a mixer.

Facing Facebook

2008-12-18T16:40:22Z

Nothing says "I care" like a comment - or a poke.

By Liza Persky

Last week my Blackberry stopped working. Like most well adjusted busy but rational professionals, I panicked. Not only did it make me realize how absolutely dependent I am on it, but that also, I have become one of those people that now has no knowledge of ANYBODY'S phone number. I have plans with my friend Mary next week and I don't know where we're going. I'm literally thinking of writing her a letter to find out, but I don't have her address. I haven't written an address down since PDA meant "Public Display of Affection."

]]> Facebook. In my status update I wrote, "Liza's Blackberry is dead so please call her if it's important." You would not believe the amount of comments I received, with everything from advice: "Call AT&T tell them it's a service issue and then get the BOLD." To sympathy: "Honey. That sucks. I'm so sorry. What are you going to do? Let me know if I can help." I could have updated my status to "I have Ebola" and gotten less sympathy.

I guess nothing says "I care" like a Facebook comment. It has become the modern day Hallmark card. Being single on Facebook is interesting. First of all, I can't help but notice how many people use the status update for one reason, and one reason only: to throw the fact that they have kids in my face! Ok, maybe that's a little harsh, but seriously, I have "friends" who I'm pretty sure do nothing all day except make cupcakes for bake sales, put little ones to bed, and pick strange things out of their children's hair. It's almost like kids know about Facebook status updates and deliberately do things for their parents to tell us about. I'm pretty sure I just watched TV and ate cereal as a kid. Thank God Facebook wasn't around then. My parents would have had nothing to update her friends about.

Then there are the relationship updates, where you can see in full view that the girl who made your life hell at your last job, and who was mean to everyone you knew, is now in a nurturing, loving relationship, complete with a little red heart. Fabulous. I know a girl who accepted her boyfriend's request to confirm their relationship on facebook before she even accepted it to him over dinner. It can actually get pretty sticky if you're not careful. My friend Alice updated her status to "I love my boyfriend for fixing my computer," only to realize an hour later that she hadn't told her ex-boyfriend, who she is friends with and who is on Facebook, that she HAD a new boyfriend. She then went in and changed her status to "I love Keith for fixing my computer. "30 seconds later Keith, the boyfriend, called. "Why was I downgraded?" Facebook has taken the concept of "Six degrees of separation," and given it a whole new context. Sometimes it's a GOOD thing to have separation. Britney and K-Fed come to mind.

I wonder when someone goes from "being in a relationship," to "being single," what happens to the friends? Remember back in the old days, like 2005, when your relationship would break up and one of the difficult parts was splitting up your friends? It was hard enough when it was a matter of a couple of people here or there, now, you're potentially going to have to duke it out over a thousand of them. And what about the friends you keep who have friends who are still friends with your ex, and you see your friend tagged in a photo that also includes your ex, and his hot new girlfriend?? There aren't enough "hugs" or "good karma" in the world to make that hurt go away. Yeah, somehow my single status is seeming a whole lot better right now. I think I'll go "poke" somebody.

More Sex, Less Stress?

2008-12-12T20:34:59Z

Our dating blogger disagrees.

by Liza Persky

Last weekend was very productive and I was able to get a lot of things done: Christmas shopping for my family, getting my winter wardrobe out of storage, paying bills, de-friending Rocco Dispirito (on Facebook)...all in all a good use of my time. I figured since I was so caught up on my life I could now get caught up on my reading. I looked on my end table and there were three choices. The Corrections, which I've been trying to finish since 2001; my journal, which hasn't had anything INTERESTING in it since 2001; and the latest issue of Self magazine. After glancing at the cover of Self and seeing there was yet ANOTHER article telling me how to tweeze and shape my eyebrows, (there's been less research written on who built the Pyramids of Giza) I decided to go with Self. Big mistake.

]]> While flipping through it, the title of an article caught my eye: "More Sex, Less Stress." By the title alone I figured I wasn't in the demographic (i.e., people having sex), but hey, I occasionally read a cookbook and I'm not a chef, so I decided to give it a glance. According to this article, research shows a great way to ward off anxiety is by connecting in bed. Or, put another way, more sex equals less stress and anxiety. Exactly what women were they talking to? From my experience -- I do have some -- the days and nights leading up to sex are nothing but stress.

First of all, I have to make sure I'm properly waxed, and for those of you who read my blog on waxing, you know that it's a strategically planned operation. Then, God forbid there's any kind of waxing mishap (all it takes is one ingrown to bring down a whole bikini), and of course there's the weather. I have curly hair, and when you have curly hair, nothing makes soft manageable curls turn into frizz rivaling Rosanna Danadana like rolling around in bed with fingers running through it. And add sweat to that, well, you've got yourself a perfect storm. The only remedy is a very low humidity weather pattern. I'll actually check the five-day-forecast before a potential night-leading-to-sex-date. I know the rest of the world checks out the weather week ahead and sees sun, clouds, snow or rain, but to me, it's a little more scientific. Those suns' have either got curly, straight, frizzy or wet hair sitting on top of their glowing yellow faces. So, after I've got the waxing and the weather in my favor, then there's the wardrobe. And I'm not talking about jeans and a sexy top. I'm talking about what's under them. Ever since I dated a man who took one look at me wearing a beige bra and red underpants and said, "I thought all women matched their bra's and panties," I have been somewhat scarred. WHAT woman started this rumor? Probably the same one who led men to believe that we all look good in baseball hats and pony tails. I'm lucky if I put on a bra with any underwire left.

As I was reading the article I actually started to feel better. When it comes down to it, having sex actually MAKES me stressed. Maybe I'm ahead of the game and not having sex makes ME the one with less stress and anxiety. I was feeling pretty good about my assessment until I read the last paragraph. "Being in an intimate relationship correlates to healing faster, getting sick less often and living longer." So, not only does being single and not having sex mean I have no plans for weekends, holidays or New Years Eve, I, in fact, actually might die younger, and in a bad bra to boot.