A Note to my Younger Self

This is a short note to my younger self – something that I have thought about often for the past 25 years or so and am proud to say have been able to implement in my life now.

Dear Younger Self,

When you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, partner – no matter how much you love them – don’t lose yourself in that relationship.  What I mean by that is simple – keep your friends, your interests and your life. Actually, make sure you go out and meet new people, cultivate your interests and thrive as an individual.

Trust me – you will thank me.

Love,

Your Older Self.

When I was in college I had same boyfriend throughout the 4 years and even after. I was so smitten that I spent every waking hour with him.  While that sounds nice, I was doing myself a grand disservice without knowing it of course. As a result of that he was practically the only person I hung out with – him and his friends. I lost out on the opportunity on meeting new people and participating in all the fun college activities – which is why one goes to college in my opinion.

What is done is done and so no point regretting that. As a result of that time, I now make sure that I have a full life outside of my relationship.

Nothing is sexier  and more satisfying than me out all day doing what I do, hopefully him doing what he does and then come together at the end of the day full of stories to share with the other.

The simplest things are so obvious. Well, this concept was not obvious to me when I was younger and so I am sharing it here.

Nothing juicy or spicy here – just a a little advice if a young person is reading this, or even an older person who fails to live their own life.

Until I date again!

People dated before the invention of the Internet

Sometimes I have to remind myself that there was dating before the internet. While I have totally bought into this whole online thing – I often think fondly of the time when we found dates and relationships in the old fashioned way – left the house, met someone, fell in love and lived happily ever after.

Picture it:

I am a freshman in college and it is finals time.  My friend and I are pulling an all nighter in the library.  A little after midnight, we walk to the Union for a snack of a sesame bagel with a 1/2 inch of cream cheese and a large coffee with milk and 2 sugars. Yup – those were the days. Don’t forget – I was 18 – and cute as all fuck – even though that has no relevance here 🙂

We are waiting for the guy to smear the ample cream cheese on my bagel as I see my friend talking to a guy.  This guy has the quintessential finals outfit that we all have on – jeans, sweatshirt, a backpack hanging on his shoulder and his baseball cap is back side front.  My friend introduces us – “This is Geetika and this is M.”

We both say hi and I remember thinking, “I wish I didn’t look like shit, cause he is a hottie even though I disapprove of that baseball cap, front side back.” Looks like I was judgemental even at 18.

My bagel was ready; I shoved it into my bag and my friend and I walked back to the library.

Next semester I am sitting in the library again and I hear, “Is anyone sitting here?”

I look up and its M, looking cuter than hell.  Luckily, I am showered, with my silky hair down to my waist and an appropriate outfit.

“No,” I smile and he pulls a chair and sits next to me. I forget the conversation that must’ve taken place except I gave him my number because he asked. The number to my room in the dorm.  This is 1988.

That evening I am in my dorm and he calls around 10 PM.  He asks if I want to go out for ice cream.

I don’t eat ice cream or other cold things but … “Sure, that would be lovely.”

I run to the bathroom, brush my hair, put on some lip gloss and that’s all I need to do to be pretty at 18 years old.  Today – it would be a whole different story.

Few minutes later he is downstairs, standing by the main door.  He is so fucking cute with the 80’s acid washed jeans folded at the bottom and wearing what I think were boat shoes.  I don’t know if he opened the car door or not but we drove out of the campus. This being Long Island – the boonies, where everything closes at 10, we end up at a grocery store picking out our ice cream from a grocery store. I don’t know which ice cream I picked but I remember it was on a stick and I also remember dropping half of it on my lap in the car.

We must’ve talked about everything one does when one is getting to know the other As we approached the entrance to the campus he said, “Do you have a curfew?”

“Of course not.”

He drove past the sign that said Stony Brook University without another word and we drove around for another 2 to 3 hours.

At about 3 in the morning he parked outside my building and shook my hand.  Yes he shook my hand!  I walked the few feet to my building, run up the stairs, turn the light on and scream, “I am in love!!!”

My room mate opens her eyes, gives me a look that says Fuck off, pulls her comforter over her head, turns around and goes back to sleep.

Whether I slept that night or not is unimportant.  I was smitten. I was in love.

The next morning I walked into my accounting class and who is sitting in the back row but M! Wow, who knew? We sat together for the rest of the semester and I blame that turn of events for the fact that I never learned to balance my check book and am a financial basket case.

At the end of the class he says, “wanna study for the test this evening. I could come over.”

The test was in two weeks.  “That sounds great. How’s 9?”

“See you then,” he says and we walk to the next class, which luckily for my educational career is not with him.

That evening he came to my room. My room mate is conveniently not there and didn’t show up for the rest of the night. These are things that make me believe that there is a God. We sat on the floor of my room with our backs resting on my twin bed. He took my hand and pretended to read the lines on my hand. I know I know that is the oldest trick in the book, but my hands in his – I couldn’t think or hear anything anyway. The books remained unopened  on my desk and he left the next morning 🙂

That was it – we were a couple. We dated for the next 7 years. Just like that. We were that couple that would irritate me today – always together, so good looking, so happy, never fought – at least in public.

He was my first love and probably the love of my life.  My mother asks about him to this day. “That M was the best boyfriend you ever had,” she always tell me.

I am sure she is right, but that same imaginary God who kept my room mate out all night that first night we spent together also made it such that M and I didn’t end up together.

But that’s okay. Such is life. Thinking of our time together still makes me smile. We are still friends, even though not like the one I talked of in my last post.

Those were simpler days – I cannot sustain a relationship more than a year today. I have my theories about that which I will write about another time but today I just want to keep the smile that M still puts on my face.

Until I date again!

 

 

 

 

Went on a Date and Came Back with a Best Friend!


“Why are you taking so long to write me back?”

“I’m waiting to hear back from the pundit (priest – who might as well marry us),” he replied.

I smiled and was smitten by this man that I had written the first message to on OkCupid.

We quickly exchanged phone numbers and spoke for several hours that first night.
There is nothing more sensual than a great conversation.  Our first conversation had all the attributes of that sensuality I covet.  His voice was sexy.  He was witty, complimenting me at just the right moments and cracking a joke at the right time.  Humor is great turn on for me.

I was hooked.

We decided to meet in a couple of days.  I broke one of my rules that the boy comes to see me.
I took the train to Long Island. He was waiting for me at the station. He was cute – gave me a delicious, satisfying hug and a kiss on my cheek.

He had planned an afternoon at the beach.  I saw a neatly folded blanket and a couple of bottles of red wine in the middle of two child car seats. I smiled.  He had told me that he had two boys.
“I have everything except the glasses,” he said.
“Stop at a Starbucks,” I said.
“You want coffee? I thought…”
“Just do it, would you please.”

He parked in front of a Starbucks and looked at me with a confused expression that was so damn cute.  i wanted to give him a kiss but refrained.  I had been with him for 10 minutes.

I stepped out of the car, went into the Starbucks and a couple of minutes later sat back in the car with two empty cups in hand.
He looked at the cups and smiled. Once again, the urge to kiss him came over me.
Not yet, I told myself.

We started driving towards the beach. The conversation was easy and flowed comfortably.

“Why do you have such a big bag,” he said eyeing my big colorful bag laying by my feet.
“I have snacks to have with the wine plus a t-shirt in case you want me to stay over,” I replied smiling at him.
It was so easy to say these things to him. We had now been together for 20 minutes.
“I have my kids tomorrow morning and my parents are at home,” he said matter of factly.
It didn’t feel like a rejection; but I really wanted to and would’ve stayed over.
“Oh well – your loss,” I said.

“Definitely.”

We parked at the beach and carried the blanket, wines and empty Starbucks cups to find a spot for us to sit. It was early April and there was still a chill in the air; and so there were not too many people around. We found a spot close to the water and he spread out the blanket. We got comfortable and he opened the bottle of wine as I fished out the focaccia that I had brought for us to snack on. I held the cups for him to fill.

“You could’ve just brought one cup you know so we would be forced to drink from one cup,” he said with that now familiar naughty grin.
“I am so stupid – not yet well versed in the art of seduction,” I smiled back.
The urge of throwing everything to the side and planting a wet kiss on his lips came over me.
NOT NOW said my brain to me once again.

We toasted. “To us,” he said and I took a sip of the wine which slid down my throat and began to warm my insides immediately.
I unwrapped the focaccia and moved aside my bag that now seemed to mock me since it was not going to be my ‘overnight bag.’
“It’s okay” I said to myself. “No need to be a slut.”

We enjoyed the wine, ate the tomato focaccia and I promised to make him one myself the next time instead of buying one from Penn Station as I did this one.
We talked and talked; and talked some more.  There was no shortage of topics. We talked about music and movies, what we liked to do and not do. We talked of our dating experiences and many more things. The time seemed to pass easily, as we enjoyed the ocean breeze and the occasional sound of a sea gull flying over our heads.
We laughed a lot. He was funny and laughed at my jokes too. He got me and his laugh was so sexy along with the rest of him.

About 3 hours later when the empty bottles were laying on the their sides and the music he had been playing on his phone begin to hiccup as his phone battery seemed to be giving up, it began to drizzle. He stood up to go to the restroom and I watched his cute self walk away.  I then stared into the horizon – happy and content.  This was going well, I thought. I then watched him walk back to me and he sat down, this time close enough to me that our knees touched. I felt a current go through me. I wanted to move closer and … you guessed it – kiss him. I wanted to hold his hand. I could’ve but thought, “Let him make his moves.” He better fucking make a move, some move – I took the LIRR from the city to come see him!

The drizzle turned serious and we started to gather our stuff. We both laughed at the sound effects that 40 something year olds make when they stand up after several hours of sitting on the ground.

“Should we go for dinner?” he asked as we walked to the car.
“Sure,” that’ll be nice.”
“Dosa?”
I was in love.  I wanted to grab him and plant a huge kiss on him yet again. This time, because dosa is my favorite food. How did he know?  He didn’t really know 🙂

We drove to the restaurant and sat down, ordered our food, still talking nonstop. We talked of our work, our dreams, my obsession with food and so much more.

I can’t stress enough the ease with which we spent all these hours – the longest date I had ever been on.

After dinner we decided to keep the evening going and go for a drink. He knew of a dive bar, probably the only thing open at that hour. in Long Island  We walked in and were the only two customers there.  I climbed on to the bar stool and we ordered our drinks.  This time we were sitting close enough that our knees did touch.  Finally! He had one leg over the other and I placed my hand on his leg.  He trousers were pulled up and I ran my hand over his the bareness around his calf.  We looked at each other and smiled – he rubbed my shoulder with one hand and took a sip of his beer with the other. While we were the only two people in the bar – there could’ve been a hundred others – it would’ve felt that it was just the two of us. For a few moments, we only had eyes for each other.
Bartenders are known to be socially astute, listening to people’s problems all day long.  Our bartender did not go to that school of reading social cues.  She decided to stand right in front of us – her face resting on her hands and displaying her ample breasts through her low cut blouse. She proceeded to munch on the pretzels that sat in a bowl for the customers.  Us!  We were the customers.  Bad timing missy.  She complimented my eyes and I think my bag and I responded in kind, all the while willing her to move away and leave us alone. No such luck.
We finished our drink and headed back to the car.
Once in the car, I looked at my phone and it was late, really late.  It was time or me to head home.
Before I knew it, I felt a hand on my leg and his face less than an inch from me.  We kissed for a few moments.  It was nice.  It was unexpected; it was sensual and everything a first kiss should be.  I shall leave it at that.

We said our good byes, a couple more kisses and I was on my way home.  I closed my eyes and relived the evening.  It was all so lovely.  The kisses were great and I was happy.

The next day – I got a call from him – I think.  It’s all a blur from here on.  I don’t have such a clear memory of what exactly was said or how it was said – but I was told by him that he had a wonderful time with me.  He liked me very much and was convinced that we would be the best of friends.  And for that reason – this impending friendship – there should be nothing physical between us since if there was, the friendship would never happen or sustain.

I was also told that he couldn’t give me what I was searching for which was a sustaining, monogamous relationship.
“I usually sleep with a woman a few times before telling her that I am not looking for a long term relationship,” he said.
“Well, you should have done that with me.  Slept with me a few times and then told me this.”
“No,” he laughed. “I like you too much for that.”

And that was that.

I hate to admit this as he will read this – he was right.!

If we had slept together, we would never have been the friends we are today.  I wouldn’t have been able to deal.

Four years later I consider him one of my dearest friends and I love him for putting up with me, making me laugh and most importantly, laughing at my jokes more than anyone ever has.

Now this is not a sad story.  It could’ve been I suppose if we had gone down the route that many people have.  Go on a few dates, hit it off, had sex and then drift away like people who don’t want the same things.

This is a happy story.  I went on a date and came home with a best friend.

A Short Foray into “Cougardom”

Warning: if you are my mother, father, brother, cousin, uncle, etc. – DO NOT READ. And if you do, lets not speak for a few days.

What is a Cougar according to the Urban Dictionary:

An “older,” experienced woman who happens to find herself in a sexual relationship (committed or not) with a younger man. She is not necessarily a slut, nor is she desperate. She offers sexual expertise and is open to new experiences. She simply wants to have fun. Though older, she may actually look younger than her “hook-up.” She is attractive, confident, and just wants to have fun. She will not attempt to trap her mate into marriage, children or even an exclusive relationship. She is not interested in drama or games, as that would interfere with the pleasure she enjoys.

One of the things that I learned from being on several online dating sites is that younger men covet older women.  I am not sure what the exact reason is; there might be several.  Some of the things I have been told by these younger men is that older women are more self assured, confident and all that good stuff.  That may be true since I certainly feel a lot more self assured than I was when I was younger.  I also don’t care much about what people think of me, thus am much more comfortable in my skin.  And so, even though I am far from one who could be called in good shape physically, I own my sexuality and know what I want and how I want it.

There may be other reasons that these younger guys don’t reveal like looking for sugar mamas but if that is what they are looking for from me, ha … they are in for a grand rude awakening 🙂

Before I tell you of my story of my foray into cougardom, I must share with you a line that I have used often and am so very proud of (smiles).

Several younger guys who approach me will tell me that they would love to experience an older woman.

My response: I am not a Disney ride that you are looking to experience me.

I love that line.  Don’t you?

Feel free to use it 🙂

Now for the story:

I was 45 and on vacation.  I got a message from a 23 year old.

“Really?” I responded, outraged.

“Really what,” he responded.  “I think you are a very beautiful woman.”

“I am also close to your mother’s age.”

“My mother is 56,” he replied.

“Well, I am not interested in someone who could be my son.  I wish you luck and you should not waste people’s time,” is the message I sent him and went about doing vacation things.

Later that night I received the most beautiful and articulate letter from the young one. Let’s call him Sam because that’s what his name was. Haha. I was impressed by his maturity and command of the English language which is a big deal for me. Since I was on vacation and relaxed, I thought to myself, ‘why not? Who is it going to hurt- I’ll see the boy when I get back to New York.’

I replied to him and decided to meet the following week. In between that time we texted often. The conversation was still very grown up. He showed a lot of interest in me, my likes and dislikes – a far cry from a lot of older guys I have communicated with.

The day we were to meet came. I wondered what I had gotten myself into but then again – I’m always up for an adventure. He came to pick me up at a predetermined location and when I saw a child walking towards me, I wanted to turn around and run. Lucky for him I don’t run.

He came closer and was just about my height – scrawny as all fuck.

Jesus, what was I thinking?

He smiled and told me I looked lovely.  He was self assured – something I can’t say about many a men my age.

We walked to his car and he opened the door for me.  Once inside and driving, he turned on the music and I heard Adele begin to croon through the speakers.  In our previous conversations he had asked me what music I enjoy.  I told him that I was obsessed with Adele lately.  Clearly, he had paid attention. Hmmmm maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

Fast forward, after dinner and a couple of drinks – we get to the part you have been waiting for, I think.  Well, that’s the part I would be waiting for.

Let me just say this that if you want the gory details, which there are plenty of – you will have to buy my book – after I finish writing it of course.

In a nutshell, he was extremely eager to please if you get my drift.  I hardly have to do a thing and for quite some I did exactly that – nothing.  But since I am a trooper, I did participate and I believe made him a happy man/boy.

That was the good part – to be pleasured by a young stud who was very adept in the art of seduction.  Where it become a deal breaker (for future dates) was our conversation.  There was a lot of talk (on his part) about drunken episodes and the like; and they had all occurred yesterday or last week.  A lot of talk of college days and college buddies – all of which happened last year.  Just to put things in perspective, I was an undergraduate 25 years ago, when he wasn’t even born!!

And so that was my brief foray into Cougardom.

He calls me to this day after all these years – tells me things that I can’t say here (Read my book)!  Obviously, everything is highly flattering and along the lines of me being the sexiest woman he had ever been with.  I promise you I am not lying.

Moral of this story: Every woman should experience a younger man – it is highly flattering and gets you in touch with your younger self. If conversation is not a big deal for you, maybe you can see him often.  Unfortunately, I am most turned on by glorious and stimulating conversation.  And so I only saw Sam one more time.

Would love to hear your experiences.  Feel free to scold me if that’s what you got from this story.

Until I date again!

 

Can You Put Down that Phone for a Minute

I try to see the good in people – I really do but people make it really hard.

Last night I went out on a date with a guy who tested most of my normally very patient nerves.

We were at a restaurant that he wanted to go to which had food from his country – so obviously he was familiar with the cuisine.  As soon as we sat down and waiter handed us the menus – instead of opening it up like most normal people – he goes to Yelp on his phone.

I sat there thinking he’ll take a moment and I was previously aware of his fondness for Yelp.

He proceeds to read reviews and then starts reading them aloud to me.

“I already know what I want plus I don’t care much about what other people think I should eat,” I said.

“Says this place is a hole in the wall,” he reads to me.

“Well, it is a hole in the wall,” I said, still holding on to my patience.

“And that the decor is not very nice.”

“It is quite an unattractive place,” I replied, looking around. “But I come here for the food which is very good.”

“I don’t think it is ugly,” he says.

“That’s nice for you then, isn’t it.  So do you know what you want?”

“Wait, let me read a couple more reviews.”

15 minutes have gone by with him just staring at his phone.

“You know those reviews are written by ordinary people, like you and me.  Why is it so important what they think?”

He rattles off some bullshit about the power of the people.

Now it has been 20 minutes, the waiter has come twice to ask us if we are ready to order and this fool is starting to get on my last nerve.  I am three blocks away from home and am wondering why I am even here and not home watching 60 Minutes.

“Five more minutes of this crap and I am going to get up and leave,” I thought to myself.

Now the waiter comes for the third time and I said, “Yes, I am ready to order.”

He looks up from his phone and asks him, “So what is good here?”

Really – asshole? After all that. Now I openly start to roll my eyes.  I have decided that this is not going to go anywhere and so I need not be patient, polite or keep up any social graces that I normally do.

He orders the most basic and classic of the dishes in the place – after all that damn Yelp reading and finally looks at me – ready to have a conversation – or so I thought.

“So what time is your flight tomorrow?” I ask.

“3 PM,” he says and pulls out his phone again.

Really – motherfucker!

“I have a phone too you know and I can eat dinner alone,” I said, now not interested in what he thinks or does next.

“What?”

“What are you doing on the phone now?” I ask.

“O I’m checking in.  I can’t relax till I’m checked into my flight.”

A flight that is over 20 hours away – a domestic 1 hour flight!

Needless to say, I am never going to see him again. While I too love my phone and use it a lot; I am also able to put it down when I am out meeting someone.  A man who is so socially inept that he cannot look up from his phone and has the need to check Yelp reviews and check into his flight on a date is clearly not the man for me.

I should’ve stayed home and fucking watched 60 Minutes – but then how would I have this story to tell you.

Until i date again!

 

Treat a Man like a Porcelain Doll – Yah Right

Having dated the wrong guys extensively for the last several years, I realized that I must be doing something wrong.  Or lets put it this way, maybe I should read the so called experts on this topic and see how I could change things.  And so I signed up for several newsletters.  A lot of it is drivel if I can through even half a page of many of them.  They all say things that are the antithesis of the way I think.  Yet, I read on.

The following irked me the most at first.  Then I thought, “there is some truth to some of it.” – you decide:

Imagine this: How much “input” does a man receive in a day?

How much is coming at him every single day? Messages, requests, questions, problems – from work, from the media, from his friends and family…?

Now – imagine how in the world YOU’RE supposed to cut through all that so he can really hear you and give you what you need?

Love has a sort of “marketing” component to it. (Especially when you want to be clear with a man and he’s got so much stuff coming at him, a short attention span, and doesn’t necessarily even WANT to hear what you have to say.)

An effective “marketer” knows that in order for her product and message to stand out, it needs to be very clear, to the point, and it absolutely needs to leave out all the stuff a prospective customer DOESN’T need to hear! You want to leave out anything that’ll make your message get lost among everything else competing for the “customer’s” attention.

Any marketing message – if it’s going to get results – needs to cut through “the clutter.” If the message is unclear, too complex, or too long, it doesn’t CUT THROUGH. The marketer fails to engage the customer. In essence, the message falls on deaf ears.

Here’s a powerful little “speech” for you in this situation – a simple yet amazingly effective Love Script:

“I’m feeling really angry right now. It doesn’t feel good to wait, and it doesn’t feel good to keep my friends waiting, either. I don’t want to be complaining all the time, and I really don’t know what to do. What do you think we could do to fix this?”

And boom.

This is the end of the cut and paste from the newsletter that maybe I won’t mention the name of.

Now this is me, speaking:

Really?  I need to treat a guy like a porcelain doll and mangle my words, walk on eggshells, so he doesn’t get bent out of shape, misunderstand me or the best move many of them seem to love – run away?

Please.  Give me a break.

I was just talking to a friend of mine about this very thing last night and we came to the conclusion that men are not walking around thinking how they should say something to us or what they should do?  They just say as they feel – as it should be and do as they feel – which is also how it should be … within reason of course.

So what is it that I am saying here?

I have come to the conclusion that when two people are right for each other whether they are in the beginning of a relationship or when one is deep into it – both parties don’t have to read newsletters to help them on how to speak to the other.  Both people can be themselves and everything falls into place rather easily and nicely.

Agree?  Disagree?  I would love to hear what you think.

Until I date again!

To Tell Them to Fuck off or not – that is the Question

My best friend always tell me “when they go low, you go high.”  It’s very sweet when he does that, but I never listen to him.  I mean I consider it but don’t listen.

I believe I am a nice person and that my default setting is to be nice. But if someone is an asshole – I am compelled to tell them that they are.  It just feels so good and it gives me ‘closure.’

I have sent ‘good bye, you are an asshole’ texts to many many guys – too many to mention here but here are a couple of recent highlights.

One guy told me he just found out he had mouth cancer after he hadn’t been in touch for a while.  While cancer is a thing that happens, I didn’t believe him.  A couple days later he texted me about something else telling me he was busy because it he was recovering from the flu.

“Was it the flu or was it cancer?” I texted back.

“Well, I have these sores in my mouth, but I did have the flu.”

“So no cancer?”

Now tell me, dear reader, does he not deserve a fuck off text?

Another gem was a guy with whom I talked to for a few days.  Long, interesting conversations.  I asked him, “so were you ever married?”

“Why would you ask that?” he asked

“I don’t think that is an unusual question; we are trying to get to know each other and are in our 40’s – many people have been married at our age.”

“I’m still not sure why you would ask me that.”

“You are married, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes I am.”

“Is that your picture on your profile?”

“No it’s not.”

Sigh – what is this girl to do but tell him to go fuck himself.

He continued to ask me why it should matter whether he was married or not.  “Why are you so constricted by traditions and why is your thinking so backward?”

O no he didn’t.  Bastard!  Well that was the end of that.

I have many more instances, but shall leave it here.

My point is why would I not call them out on their assholery?  Why would I be a shrinking violet and just let this crap go without giving them a piece of my mind?

Well, I do it because it feels good and keeps me from having an ulcer.

What is your thinking?

To tell them to fuck off or not – that is the question.

Until I date again!