Big City Girl Journeys

I am Bridget Jones

2012-02-01T21:40:00.000-08:00

“You just have to realize that life is not a romantic comedy.”

Someone said this to me recently. They felt that people don’t just follow their hearts in love and it was silly for me to think otherwise. There are factors, conditions, and other considerations. Love is not the end all be all and those other factors control relationships, not love.

I’ve been pondering the idea trying to decide if I agree.

To think this over, I first needed a reference point of true romantic comedies:*

Bridget Jones’ Diary

When Harry Met Sally

He’s Just Not That Into You

Love and Basketball

Sweet Home Alabama

How to Loose a Guy in 10 Days

Love Jones

Brown Sugar

Plot Overview Summary: Boy meets girl. Girl is slightly neurotic, but in a loveable “dressing on the side” kinda way that make her totally endearing. Things aren’t exactly right. Boy and girl go through some stuff, but they overcome. True love conquers all and they end up together in the end. Throw in a fake orgasm scene, a fight scene with yummy Hugh Grant, a nice but boring fiancé, and Hip Hop/poetry and there you have it.

If you ask me, it doesn’t seem to be all that complicated and sounds a lot like what happens in real life. Except for the yummy Hugh Grant part. I keep looking for him in my office so I can sashay by in my short skirt but he seems to be away on leave; indefinitely.

But other than that, people go through those things. They make up, they break up, they chase the wrong girl, say stupid stuff, and fall in stupid foolish total love. So my question is: Why do we make life more complicated than a romantic comedy? Why don’t we all just put it on the line like Bridget Jones and follow our hearts?

Don’t get me wrong, I understand: there are factors in relationships. None of those movies have a “Whose turn is it to do the laundry?” scene. Or a 2 am “My ass was just in the toilet AGAIN because you left the seat up. I swear to God I will stab you in your sleep if you do it again” scene. Those things are part of relationships and you have to be able to work them out. But that is life. And it isn’t unique to romantic relationships. So what is wrong with following your heart with the understanding that regardless of who you love or how hard you love them, you will have to take out the garbage? I don’t see why you would let the fact that the garbage has to go out be your driving force.

I think I can trace the difference in our views of real life verses the romantic comedy back to the moment where someone puts their heart on the pavement to fight for what they really want. The “I’ll play for your heart” in Love and Basketball. The “When did you fall in love with hip hop” in Brown Sugar. And I’m starting to think that if you don’t stand up in that moment when it happens and fight, you just miss it. There is something about the passion of the fight against all odds and reason that separates the RoCom from real life. If you miss the moment, you likely miss out on your happily ever after. And you still have to take out the garbage.

Now let's be clear, I hear the argument that lasting relationships are not based on that love alone. That it fades, and you have to fall back on the responsibilities and friendship to make a relationship last. But when I hear people say that I often believe they are talking about lust not love. No, wanting to ravish a person every time you see them will not make for a 30-year long marriage. (But it might get you solidly through the first 5 years if you do it right *wink*).

But are you closer to that 30-year marker if you ration out your heart in pursuing your relationships? There is something to be said for not trying to control your emotions and following them. Like Matthew McConaughey chasing after Kate Hudson on the Brooklyn Bridge on his motorbike. You may not get the girl. But it seems to me the alternative is just as bad. And there is the chance that you will get the girl. And she already knows that you were a player before you met her and loves you anyway.

Something about letting that passion lead just might be exactly the answer to making relationships last. Because that passion is you. The real you. And the object of your affection is getting something real, in all of its intensity. I hear about so many relationships that end after the muted “representative” of a person goes away. That moment when people finally put themselves out there and their mate (months or years later) is forced to deal with the real person that they have never seen before who has appeared. I say you jump all in and follow your heart from the start and be real. It might not make every relationship work. But the ones that do will have that real staying power.

I’m even more certain now that I was before that for some people life is a romantic comedy. Just like I know there are rich people even though my bank account doesn’t show it. Some people do follow their hearts and find true love like Bridget Jones. If you don’t believe they really exist, it just means you aren’t one of them.

Yet.

But if you are the person who is hiding yummy Hugh Grant at your office, give me a ring. We should do lunch. I have just the right outfit.

Your hopelessly romantic BCG

* If you have not seen any of these movies call/message me now and we will make a weekend out of it. Because you are seriously missing out of you haven’t laughed at Reese Witherspoon punching Candace Bergen in the face with a Southern accent.

Too Many Cities Girl

2011-07-21T20:32:00.000-07:00

So somewhere along the line, I can’t quite place the genius, my apartment turned into a frat house. There are massive amounts of liquor in every single room (don’t even ask, I’m not getting into it). My entire wardrobe is dirty on one of my floors making getting dressed for tomorrow my next big adventure. Well getting dressed and not falling on my face trying to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night; so two adventures daily…who knew how much you could fit into a day?

I’ve building a tower of naked pizza boxes, as their pizza has become my vehicle for all 4 food-groups (grain, dairy, veggies, and meat. AND it is organic; I’m brilliant at multi-tasking!)

I have a golf driver in my living room that I think grew from the carpet like magic and now I have to get a big bulb to replace the one I broke in my living room when I was play swinging it around. And the kitchen light is hanging from the frame, but I’m not tall enough to fix it. (Which I believe means I definitely didn’t break it. I didn’t ever bring the club into that room at all, I swear).

Red cups keep spring up everywhere with stuff in them. Is there a gnome sneaking in here tapping the left over Hennessey? I didn’t even drink whatever bottle of liquor I just found on the patio.

OK…might be time to clean this ish up. I’m just going to practice my swing a few more times first.

Your "rather be golfing" BCG

He Said She Said

2011-06-14T22:24:00.000-07:00

I am reminded today of a theory a friend and I constructed in college about how differently men and women view time when dating.

Female’s Perspective:

Day 1

Girl meets boy.

Day 4

Girl continues to be frustrated by waiting for boy to call. Has amassed 4 conference calls with closest 5 female friends to figure out what he is doing and why it would keep him from calling.

Day 5

Girl gets fed up with ridiculous length of wait and determines boy is not worth her time. Would most likely be awful in bed. Girl would then have to lie and tell him it was good. Would feel really bad about that. She is not a liar. Decides then and there: she is not going to become a liar for a silly boy. The nerve; expecting her to change just to be with him.

Day 6

Crazy ex-girlfriend potential is added to bad in bed concerns during daily female friend conference call. Is determined that no normal woman would tolerate this hypothetical potentially insane behavior. If said crazy woman were to do something like - keying girl’s car…who has time or money for such repairs? This coupled with the bad in bed fact is making it challenging to justify keeping him around during conference calls. Girl is certain; best just to call the whole thing off.

Day 7

Boy FINALLY calls to ask girl out. Although annoyed, girl refers back to Church message that week on forgiveness and determines she will overlook his transgressions. She agrees to go out with him. Girl is very forgiving you know; Like Jesus. She knows it might be asking for trouble, but she allows the past issues to slide. Boy seems nice, and who knows, people are able to change. He can change and she is just the woman to help him do it. Girl makes mental note: reward self with a pedicure for being such a giving person.

Day 9

Girl and boy have a great date. Laughing, talking, and joking for hours on end. Boy must be very into her because they closed down the restaurant. If he weren’t having the best time of his life, would he have insisted they have desert? Girl must remember to bring up that very point on tomorrow’s conference call about how into her he must be.

Day 10

Girl keeps cell phone on vibrate all day within eye glance during all meetings and appointments. Certain boy will call, she practices her “Oh hi; I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today” line in work bathroom mirror.

Day 13

During female friend conference call serious questions are raised about boy’s ability to be a good husband. Given how flighty and inconsiderate he is and all. How can she be expected to share the rest of her life with someone who has no manors? They will have to have a serious talk about his behavior very soon.

Day 16

Important discovery is made during female friend conference call. After evaluating all clues and subtle signs it is determined that boy's so called “job” MUST just be a front for drug trafficking. It is best that he is now out of the picture. Girl is not the “ride or die” type of chick. She would never shove drugs or other things up her bum to sneak into the clink to keep him from getting killed in the joint like the jail house special on HBO.

Day 18

Boy calls girl to say hello. Girl is not only confused, but also annoyed. What type of girl does he take her for? Nothing gets stuffed up her rear for anyone! It is insulting that he has the nerve to “Say hi” when there are such pressing issues on the table. A mental note is made to discuss this on today’s conference call about him. Girl determines things must change if they are going to move forward in any serious way at all.

Male perspective:

Day X to Day X:

Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy calls girl and asks her out. Boy and girl go out and have an OK time. Boy calls girl to say hi. Might ask her out again. Might not.

An't no Holla Back Girl

2011-03-05T07:51:00.000-08:00

I never answer my house phone, but I was dancing around my living room this fine sunny Saturday when it rang so I thought “what the heck.”

I picked it up, said hello and this is what I heard:

“You have received a call from landmark telemarketers. All of our operators are now busy and cannot take your call. Our office hours are 9-6 EST and our number is (202) 555-1983. Thank you. Good-bye.

Are you serious? I want to know what marketing genius thought that was a good message to put on the playback. I realize they use a machine to dial and don’t expect people to pick up. But I can’t help but think “We called you but now can’t talk. You should call us back so we can sell you some crap” is just a waste.

Maybe its just me.

OMG - Sincerely

2010-12-06T22:09:00.000-08:00

I don’t understand how texting snuck into the mainstream as a vehicle to communicate feelings. Texts should be used to convey:

Directions to the bar.
That I’m running 15 minutes late (again). OK, 30 minutes, tops; but that’s it.
That you are in hot water for finishing the mint cookies and cream ice cream yet AGAIN. As God as my witness, if you do it one more time, I will crazy-glue sprinkles to your forehead while you are sleeping.

Now, I see how a simple “How are you” text continues on and includes important updates. I’m all for efficiency. But if that simple question turns into a serious discussion or a disagreement erupts, I’m not taking the fight seriously and neither should you.

It’s a text; the modern day set of cans with a string in-between. The reliability of the message getting across has improved, but the chance for miscommunication is still high. Its easy, but you can’t hear my voice. I can’t see your eyebrow twitch the way it does when you are lying. You can’t see the tears form in the corner of my eyes the way they do when I say “I’m OK,” but pretending to be stronger than I feel.

What are we, in grade school? You wouldn’t take me seriously if I slipped you a folded piece of paper saying “Do you think I properly value the things that matter to you? Check one box: yes/ no/ maybe.” Why would we do the technology equivalent?

Worse than that, when I’m texting you, I could be cooking risotto and dancing to Christmas tunes in a pair of boxers and a tee shirt singing into the spoon. I’m not 100% focused on you, and chances are high that I will slip up and say something that pisses you off. I’m bound to say anything. Once I start texting, my competitive streak kicks in. I’m trying to be wittier in my next text than I was in my last. Or be just wittier than you. It’s a technology based “you just got served!” and I am going to win.

It is not a way to get heart-felt emotions.

So, if you want me to take you seriously, and our conversation seriously, you should talk to me; in-person. Preferably over a glass of wine. Where real feelings, emotions, facial expressions all play into communication the way they were intended to. If you say something that sounds important in a text, I will take note of it; as a marker for what I will expect us to discuss for real when we see each other again.

Anything I say that sounds profound or perhaps heart inspired by text, you should verify it next time we get together. I might have just been copying quotes from the episode of The West Wing I was really paying attention to at the time. The writers on that show have some really witty one-liners.

BCG - grab her attention

March Mayhem

2010-04-03T19:19:00.000-07:00

So it’s public knowledge that I have a tiny, wee little bit of a competitive streak in me. It is also public knowledge that my face lights up like Christmas when I get to fill out my NCAA tournament bracket. Once I blow out my last birthday candle in January, I can’t wait for March Madness to begin.

This year, the ink was still wet on my final selection when my heart was pulled from my body and smashed on the ground at my feet. There was no smack talking in the lunch room. No snide comments in my facebook updates. Just anarchy and basketball mayhem. Nine seats were beating one seats and before you knew it, my bracket was nothing more than a legal size piece of scrap paper.

Boo.

I was at a bar, as one of the final four games played, and struck up a conversation with the gentleman sitting next to me. He offered me half of his meal, which I was totally confused by but tried to hide (why exactly Mr. Total Stranger would I eat half of your dinner?). He was watching the game on the big screen.

Making friendly conversation, I ask “So you didn’t have either of these teams on your bracket, now did you?”

“Hell no” was his emphatic reply.

Yeah, mine has been garbage for over a week now, which really sucks.”

I was partly making conversation and partly looking for comfort because I’m really pissed about it all. Anyone I see with a Kansas shirt on from now until the summer I’m gonna smack them upside the back of their head like a smart mouth five year old.

Then he said, “Well, if you really love the game, it doesn’t matter and you enjoy it for the sport of it all, regardless of who is playing. You appreciate the game and watch it the same no matter what.”

5 minutes later, he paid his check and left. The score was 7-9, 7 minutes into the first half.

Humph.

I guess “enjoying the sport of it all” just applies to me. After his lecture and attempt to make me feel like “less than a pure fan” he bounced.

But I have seen lots of guys paint their whole bodies in the color of their favorite teams. They love the game AND care who wins.

Besides, he clearly didn’t want to watch this bull, shit either.

Kansas, Georgetown, and Villanova: you are all on my list. Sleep with one eye open.

Strange man at the bar: You can kiss my ass. You’re just as pissed-off as I am. Stop fronting and stop trying to make me feel bad. This bracket season sucks and I’m going to pout about it until fantasy football starts.

Your BC Girl – clearly still mad at loosing $10 bucks in the office pool.

The Fear of Falling

2010-02-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

I don’t ski.

Don’t get me wrong, I try to ski. I put on snow pants and my Nautica ski jacket. I rent skis and poles and go down a mountain with snow on it.

But what I’m doing on that mountain is really not the definition of skiing. What I’m doing is trying desperately not to fall. I am so afraid of falling that it occupies my every thought until I’m on level ground again. I can’t tell you if I enjoyed the run or if it was a good slope, because my goal is to say upright the whole time. If I can do that; it is a good day.

See, I fell on my first ski trip. It was the grandest fall in all of skiing falls. I took out this poor guy who didn’t see me coming and ended up pinned to the ground on my back like a turtle with my skis folded under me whimpering:

“Help me. Please help me…”

I was in such a precarious position; I couldn’t move. A kind Samaritan had to release me from my self imposed snow prison. He kept saying “How the hell did you get like this?” Which was really annoying. Like I had any clue how I ended up twisted like a pretzel on the side of a mountain!

When it was all said and done, I couldn’t walk for 2 months on my right knee I had injured it so badly.

I’ve seen a close correlation to my approach to skiing and the approach some people take to dating. They aren’t dating; they are trying not to get hurt. They aren’t open to the possibilities that love might have in store for them, they keep people at a safe arms length so that they can be in control of the situation and their own feelings. They slowly cause the end of any potential relationship because like me on that mountain since the fall, they are not enjoying the run, but trying to control how it ends. They want to be able to say “At least I didn’t make THAT mistake again.” And they can.

But without putting their hearts on the line and being open, the can also guarantee that there will be an end.

People tell me I have to stop being afraid of the fall and just go for it. If I fall, then I fall, but I will enjoy the activity much more if I’m not afraid. But saying that seems just as stupid as telling me to be purple one day. How do you stop fear? I’ve heard of people overcoming it, but it’s a process, not an on/off switch.

I secretly hate those people because I automatically think “Ah, so you have never done the snow turtle upside-down pretzel move. Because if you did, you would be afraid too.” It may not be fair to discount their hopes for me because they have not seen the same challenges. But this is not a Nike commercial. “Just do it” is not the battle cry I’m looking for.

I may not be able to erase my fear over night, but I keep getting up on those mountains. I try to look up for brief moments to notice a tree or some other part of the scenery. I realize it’s not earth shattering, but its progress. I even fell the last time I was out and it wasn’t that bad. I was able to get back up without the ski patrol.

The 2014 Winter Olympics may not be in my future, but another ski trip is. And a new ski jacket. Cause at some point, I’m not going to remember THAT fall, but some other silly thing that happens on the mountain. The turtle pretzel will be a distant memory. Last time I went out, one of my friends crashed in such a dramatic way, I can still see it in my head. He wasn’t hurt, but watching him fly by at a million miles an hour to a certain crash made me forget for that minute my own fear. And if you string together enough of those moments…who knows.

Whoosh!!! Your bcg girl

Travel Light

2010-02-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

Love was so much easier when we were young. Boy meets girl, he pulls her ponytail, chases her around the playground; she likes him back. They hold hands in the hallway, eat lunch together, and pass notes when they should be learning algebra. The note gets folded into a cute triangle; that should count for something in geometry, right?

Things start to get very complicated after that. People get into relationships that don’t work with people that disappoint them and it hurts. Getting over the hurt is not easy. Some hold onto the hurt, package it up, and carry it into every new romantic experience.

Baggage.

Some people have a little bit of baggage; like that clear liquids bag you can carry onto the plane. But others have lots of it. Not cute matched Louie V luggage sets where everything has its own compartment and stays in place. Nope, folks walk around with overfilled plastic bags, ripped garbage bags, and rolling suitcases with busted wheels full of old hurts, the mistakes of others, and unrealized expectations. The bags piles up around them, falling onto the floor in the most inopportune times making it impossible get close to them without tripping over something.

Many walk around with the bags for so long; they don’t even realize anymore when stuff falls out of them.

There you are, having a quite dinner at a new trendy restaurant. You’re gazing into each others eyes, laughing, joking, and smiling. Your hands touch in the middle of the table, he looks at you and you think he will say something cute and flirty. You’re waiting in anticipation, and then the waiter comes by to see if you want chocolate lava cake or Italian cream pastry for desert.

You have been looking forward to the lave cake from the moment he recommended the restaurant and you looked up the menu online. But your date’s face gets tight, his expression gets cross, and he says no one is interested in desert and sends the waiter off.

BAM!

After the waiter leaves, one of the bags explodes on the table onto the floor and you spend an hour explaining how you personally have never sleep with your boyfriend’s best friend while he was on a business trip in Italy. So although you realize how hard that was, you don’t actually think it will be a problem for the two of you.

“Are you going to Italy any time soon?” You ask; wondering why this needs to be discussed in lue of chocolate lava cake.

“You’re missing the point. I don’t want to make the same mistakes again, I have to learn from my past.”

So there you are.

No lava cake for you. You’re sitting at the table, exhaustedly wondering how many other conversations like this you will need to have to prove you aren’t her. Conversations about mistakes you have never made and will never make, but obviously have and impact on your budding relationship.

Last week you spent hours talking about your views on pet custody. How IF you moved in together, and IF you decided to get a miniature Snouser together, and IF you broke up, would you let him see the dog for visits. That was a frustrating conversation, but there was no chocolate lava cake involved, so you grinned and created a supportive position to this hypothetic dilemma.

The problem is, although you aren’t perfect (OK, you’re really, really far from perfect) the two of you have not gotten to discuss your mistakes and shortcomings. You’re still defending yourself against someone else’s whacked out mistakes and you spend a lot of time explaining that you are not that person rather than showing who YOU truly are.

Its hard, this love thing. It can be beautiful, strong ,and lasting. But if you throw all of those bags on top of it while it’s just a sapling, it will be dead before it had a chance to grow.

Sadly, many waste emotions on people who think it’s OK to do outlandish things, and as a result are guarded against the real possibilities. Like our friend at the restaurant who just wanted to get to know this new exciting guy. Well, get to know him and try that chocolate lava cake.

Your BCG girl - unpacking

My Well Runneth Empty

2010-01-18T11:36:00.000-08:00

I got a headlight fixed this Saturday and my usually very nice mechanic yelled at me because my car had NO oil in it. I kept looking at him like he was crazy (his English is not that great), so he stopped trying to explain and showed me. He pulled the dip stick out 3 times, and each time it came out clean and dry. I was shocked, where did it go? I figured it was dirty, but gone? I didn't know that was an option.

I love my car, (her name is Kanadi) but since I only use her to get back and forth 20 blocks to work and to happy hour on U Street, I sometimes forget the general care and feeding she requires. How dirty can the oil really get in the garage at my office? I was supposed to get it changed in October, but don’t I get a few months buffer since she’s a “kept” car? Those timeframes are for the “worker cars” that commute to far places, like Fairfax or Baltimore. My car is a social car; her oil should have some extra mileage to it.

OK, maybe not.

He asked me what I wanted to do about this oil situation, so I asked him to add some (leaving with it empty seemed like a bad idea) and I would get it changed on Monday. I had plans that night and it took him longer to change the broken light than I expected. I still needed to get dressed and didn’t want to be late.

He replied “That’s ok, just leave it as it is. We do broken engine here too. You can just bring it back then.”

Humph. Smart ass.

His English got real clear on that one.

It’s now Monday and as instructed, I am getting the oil changed. I'm sitting here secretly thinking that it should be half price - since it was empty and all to start. I know this isn’t an option on the price list, but technically, it’s not really a change but a fill. From my perspective, that is like half the work. I should at least get some free windshield washer fluid or something.

Your BCG grease monkey

A Lady Friend by Any Other Name

2010-01-11T14:46:00.000-08:00

As relationships outside of marriage morph from occasional sex partner to live-in “others,” I’m memorized by the titles we use and what they really imply. So I thought I’d give a BCG definition to some of the more common ones.

=====CAUTION======
You have been called some of these things in the past by someone you dated. Once or twice could be just a slip, but if this is all he/she calls you… take note.

If that upsets you, your problem is with that person, not me. If you email me/post a comment with your particular story, and insist that you are different and my rules don’t apply to you, I’m going to be polite and say “Yes you are. Your situation is special and you mean more to him/her than that. He/she feels stronger for you and you are the exception that falls outside of these silly rules.”

Please know, I don’t really mean it. It’s just something I will say to be considerate of your feelings and make me seem like a nicer person. I’m not a jerk, and don’t want to make you feel bad. But I can’t change the facts or tell you what to do about them. So please direct your fussing to the proper person.

NAMES MEN GIVE WOMEN

Girlfriend/ Wifey
You have been in the mix for a while; maybe even years. You make dinner, do the laundry, help in a pinch, or just look great when you go out (relationship specifics may vary). He realizes in return he is supposed to be faithful, available, and supportive. He may not accomplish any or all of these 3, but understands that his failure will result in a “We need to talk” moment. He cares enough to sign-up for that, and introduces you to his boys.

Friend
You may or may not be someone he has dated. He values/respect you enough to want you in his life, even in a casual way. It includes women that he has slept with, or would like to sleep with, in addition to acquaintances and associates with no sexual connection. If there is a sexual connection, there is no exclusiveness, even if you think there is. He feels open to wander and explore any and all other options at his (in)discretion.

Lady Friend
He does not intend to see you much past this one time when he had to introduce you. He isn’t concerned if you will be friends long-term. He might not think your smart enough or pretty enough. What ever the situation, this is one step above “Woman I went out with once, sort of. But it was nothing.” Don’t take it personally, keep it moving and make sure he pays for dinner. It’s the least he can do.

Shorty
The song says it all “Even though I’m not your man your not my girl I’m a call you my Shor…..ty.” You are amazing in bed and quite the freak. You should teach a class. You get to go with him to the club, boy’s weekend in Vegas, and your phone consistently rings after 2am. Take a look now- can you see any calls from him in your log before midnight? You will never be the wife, or even the mistress, because then he would have to buy you stuff; and that just won’t happen. Know that he enjoys you, and is vocal about it. So vocal that you shouldn’t be surprised if his friends start to call to see if they can have a ride.

NAMES WOMEN GIVE TO MEN

Boyfriend
You are it. She is supportive, nurturing, and attentive. She loves and cherishes you. She makes that pic of the two of you together her face book profile picture and is sure that her status says she is off the market. She goes out of her way to do things for you; because when you’re happy, she’s happy. You might fight, but she always tries to make up. She makes sure that girl’s night out ends promptly at 9pm…before anyone can be confused about the fact that she has a man at home.

Friend
You may be one of the following: man she would like to date, man she dated before but isn’t interest in sleeping with again, the guy she lived next to in grammar school, the dude in her office that asks every day if she still has a boyfriend, the guy she slept with in Jamaica that weekend her man went to Rio with the fellas, the guy at the bakery who always saves her a cookie, the dude she met on spring break and always wondered if he would be good in bed, her high school sweetheart, the guy she was dating right before she met her current boyfriend, her group mate from college who always tutored her that she kissed once, the guy that she met at a networking event who spits when he talks, or the guy her friend has been trying to fix her up with for years (particularly every time her man messes up).

I hope that clears it all up for you.

The New Jersey Freeway

2010-01-05T21:12:00.000-08:00

My frequent trips back and forth to Jersey have been the subject of intense speculation among my friends and family. I make the trips quickly (3 hours or less) and everyone knows I hate driving. So how does this Big City Girl do it? Well here is “The True Hollywood Story.”

I find a playmate.

Disclaimer – If you are traveling with me as a guest in my car, you are safe and sound as a passenger. I will mind the speed limit (you know, within a few miles plus or…well plus) but there are no fun and games. Hands on the wheel – ten and two.

Now by myself, on the New Jersey Turnpike - that is another story. I like to find someone who can entertain me during my adventure.

How does this happen? Well let me tell you –

This playmate usually finds me, rather than the other way around. It will be an un-suspecting person, speeding just a bit more than me, who gets too close to my rear bumper in the fast lane. I notice this, move over quickly to let them pass, then zip back to reciprocate this very rude, pushy driving.

Now if I were a guy, or a wildebeest, the person in question would find me to be either aggressive or very annoying. But I’m usually rapping along to Jay-z or Drake, dancing in my little blue car, and they tend to find it cute rather than obnoxious.

Then the real driving begins. Weaving, bobbing, driving along, we end up tracing a ribbon through the cars going 60-70 miles an hour like a retro Frogger game.

One such game is what got me home this fine Christmas. I found an appropriate playmate and we were zipping and dipping along the parkway accelerating and falling back, keeping in sight all the way.

Let’s pause, for a minute and define what makes an appropriate playmate for this activity.

1 -- This person must be male and in the car by himself. Girlfriends, wives, and mothers do not tend to like this game and male friends make faces and gestures in the passenger seat as if there are the ones doing the driving. Annoying.

2 -- This person should have tags from a place in the direction of my destination. New York and New Jersey are good going north, Maryland, Virginia, DC going south. Pennsylvania and Delaware folks tend not to want to play, and they get off at exits I don’t pay attention to. Playing with them could make me end up in…Pittsburgh. And who wants that?

3 -- This person (let’s just call him a guy) must be driving a little care like mine. He can not have a mini van or a hummer. A Honda, an Accord, and the diamond logo cars work well. They move quickly and can keep up.

So I found such a playmate on my most recent trip. Let’s call him Mr. Maryland crab license plates. He thought he was pushing me to the side of the fast lane, but when I followed him and then passed him, our little game was on.

We weaved and smiled and flirted for about 90 minutes, which was a great way to pass the time. That turnpike is no joke and boring as hell. I pulled in front of him a ways and about 10 minutes later he caught up.

I looked over and said “Oh there you are” and I guess he could read my lips because he laughed.

We hit some traffic, things slowed down, and he was behind me, out of sight, a few cars back. We got to the end of the turnpike, approached the toll, and then he did the unthinkable. He pulled out of the easy pass lane and moved into the cash only lane.

Cash only? Who gets onto the turnpike Christmas weekend without an easy pass? That cash only line stretched the length of Delaware. Are you kidding?

I zipped into the easy pass lane, not even stopping, now listening to Kanye. Like dancing with a guy at the club, when the song changes, you move on.

It was fun while it lasted.

BCG – Drivers wanted.

Thinking for the Holidays

2009-12-20T07:07:00.000-08:00

Someone asked me to write my next blog on being alone for the holidays.

At first, I thought he was being silly and short sighted. Everyone has their family and friends that love them. Even if you aren’t in a relationship, I’m quiet certain you are far from alone.

Then the blizzard hit.

2 days stuck in the house. Christmas love stories are on every channel and work has slowed to a halt as people power down until the New Year.

It’s enough to make you loose your mind.

I’m one of those girls who are always busy. I fill every minute of every day with every thing. My “to do list” is my guide and I find satisfaction in checking things off that list. Life moves quickly and constantly; a convenient by-product is that staying busy means I don’t get many moments where I have to confront what I am choosing not to focus on.

Like a relationship.

I don’t make time find answers to these questions: Is a relationship important or not? Do I want to try and work towards one? Am I being hard on the guys I have dated recently? Should give them more of a chance? Have I walked away from something great?

I just keep moving. I assume that what I say I’m looking for really does exists somewhere and I will find it when I’m supposed. That I shouldn’t just try to make it work with someone I don’t feel a connection to. In the mean time, checking the boxes on my list is much more fulfilling than pondering these really hard questions that have speculations and no real answers.

And then I got snowed in.

No work to distract me, no clients calling for reports. I’ve wrapped all of my gifts and washed all my clothes. I’ve watched 8 movies and it is still 4 hours earlier than I ever go to bed on a Saturday night.

What am I supposed to do now?

It’s the stillness that makes it tough for people to be single during these months. Your world slows to a halt. It allows you time to think. It forces you to think. You realize that in some areas of your life, you are a rock star. In others, you are no further along then you were when you moved out of your parents’ house those many years ago.

And oh yeah!! THAT is right around the corner. The family dinners where they try very hard to pretend they understand why you are still single. Pretend they understand why you needed that next promotion, that second or third degree, or whatever it is you have focused on that keeps you from figuring out the love thing. They pretend that they get why that last guy wasn’t the one; and the truth is they don’t. They want to understand, because they love you. They want you to be happy, and they just don’t believe you are.

Add in a few sappy Christmas romances and those “Every Kiss begins with K” commercials and its enough to make you pull your hair out while you question all of the choices you made throughout the first 11 months of the year.

So to my friend, I’m sorry I pre-judged you. I was too busy checking off boxes to realize how much many of us can empathize with you.

We will find love when its right and it shouldn’t be seasonally motivated. Don’t let Zale’s convince you it has to be this month. In solidarity, I’m going to go erase all of the numbers in my phone for the “maybe I should give him another chance, he wasn’t THAT bad” guys. There might be several more hours before its safe to drive, and I don’t want to be tempted to give them another chance I wouldn’t even consider in the sunshine of April.

And don’t worry, Martin Luther King’s Day is right around the corner; it seems that the world goes back to normal then...

- Your BCG Snow Angel

Happiness does not equal raw eggs and flour

2009-12-10T19:11:00.000-08:00

A woman I went to college with was featured today in the Washington Post for her upcoming novel “Bitch is the New Black.” Tickled to see someone I know in the news, I started googling to get the full story. While I’m excited by the concept of the book the way she describes herself it in the video interview gave me pause – because it’s something I’ve heard a lot.

She said “I’m a successful black woman” several times, listed off the things that validated the statement, and then says she isn’t happy. I know many women who describe themselves this way, and they too end up in that same place at the end of the sentence. “I’m a successful black woman, why can’t I find love or happiness?”

It might be worth while to go back to the beginning of the sentence and see where we made a wrong turn.

What is success? I’ve heard it described a number of ways: having a degree (or two), a house, a car, a job, the right clothes, and/or invites to the right parties. Some women define it as beginning married or having a child. But in many cases, all of this “success” is not accompanied with happiness.

If what you want is happiness, then are you really successful without it?

Someone along the way told us the work is done once you get the tools. We want a cake - so we get the eggs, sugar, and the flour…. but we leave them on the counter and go get ready for the club. We go out, drink, dance, have a good time, and wonder why we don’t have a cake with cute rose petal frosting details when we get back. We want the results but have not done the work.

Since we as women, of any color, were not allowed to get the tools before, we have come to see these as important markers. Getting the degrees, the job, our own things, are accomplishments we should be proud of. But they are not the end of the road. The sacrifice, the balance, the compromise of giving outside of ourselves in a relationship, for our career, or for our children, that’s a whole different thing.

We have been allowed to say “no thanks” to the parts that are hard, so we do. We shun being in relationships that are not “worthy of us” and turn our noses up at anything that falls short of our fabulous definitions. We are not our mother or grandmothers. We have tools and tools equal options. We have the option of only investing in what we want, and not settling for less. And we hold onto our options like badges of honor and wear them like a shield against being mediocre and common. We pat ourselves on the back for not having to slave like our for-mothers did, and yet wonder why we are all alone.

But what we are realizing is that our mothers and their mothers were not sacrificing because they were less fabulous than we are. It was something different. And to find our own happiness, we will have to see some parts of them in ourselves.

Many of us have the ingredients for happiness, but have not actually started baking. We haven’t gotten to the hard part of what true happiness is, and wonder where our “happiness prize” is.

But, happiness is not an entitlement. It is the result of soul searching, giving, and loving. It is the byproduct of risks taken and challenges overcome. It is opening yourself and your heart to finding something that really matters -what ever that is– and committing yourself to it fully. If that is a job, a child, or a husband --- you get back what you put out.

Let me be honest - that first cake you make is going to suck. You are gonna mess it up somehow. But don’t be discouraged. Try again and again until you figure it out. You’ll know you have the right recipe when you think it’s perfect and the first thing you want to do is cut the first slice for someone else.

Women Who Burn Water and Men with Soft Hands

2009-12-01T19:38:00.000-08:00

On facebook today, a friend posted this comment:

“A WOMAN AT MY JOB TOLD ME THAT IF YOU ARE OVER 25 AND CAN'T COOK A FULL COURSE MEAL THAN YOUR NOT A REAL WOMAN... LADIES HOW DO U FEEL ABOUT THIS??? AND MEN DO U CONCEDE TO MY CO-WORKER'S COMMENTS???”

Forty-five comments later (yes, 45!) I was overwhelmed by the responses by both men and woman. Is this how we measure our woman and ourselves?

News flash: The roles in society have changed. Once we all decided that the American Dream required 2 incomes to achieve, traditional gender roles flew out the window.

Marriage is a moving target. There isn’t a “one size fits all” definition anymore. I hear far more stories of women who rely on their husbands so much that after a divorce they can’t even balance their checkbooks. For those women, THAT concerns me far more than if she can whip up butternut squash soup and a pot roast.

And if you are not the bread winner, and your wife/girlfriend brings home the bacon rockin the board room, you better move your butt into that kitchen and fry her up some chicken. And at bonus time, you better call your grandma and get that special mac and cheese recipe. She’s earned it.

But more than anything, I’m done with the rampant discussion about what makes a real woman with little to no conversation around what makes a real man.

Exhibit A: I asked a guy recently to change a light bulb for me, and you would have thought I asked him to build the Great Wall of China. By hand. Alone. In a snow storm. Naked. He whined and moaned and in the end, he didn’t do it!

For some reason, the evolving positions in society make people feel 100% comfortable judging women for how they fall short of their “wife/womanly/ motherly roles” But men go unchecked.

Well…I’m going to say it. Men - being in the office has made some of you physically lazy, spoiled, and just plan soft. An hour on the elliptical machine is NOT the equivalent of fixing the dishwasher. Racquetball and golf are NOT equal to cleaning out the gutters. Some of you have outsourced your “manly” duties to illegal immigrants looking for work in the parking lot of the Home Depot. And no one has checked you on it until now.

So on both sides, let’s be honest about what is important and what is not. Would everyone love to have a well prepared meal waiting when they get home? Yes. (Shoot, me included) But for all of the single mothers I know, its more impressive to me that they can put food on the table at all…no matter how its prepared.

Would I love to have a man making six figures so I can stay home and watch “As the World Turns?” Hells yeah! But I would rather have a man who isn’t afraid to do what ever it takes to care for his family; be that a blue collar, white collar, green collar, or dirty collar job.

Let’s stop measuring ourselves by outdated criteria and give credit for all that make us truly great woman, men, and partners. We need to focus on being good to each other and stop trying to fit each other into these little tiny archaic boxes.

Any ladies (or guys) interested…I’m happy to offer cooking classes for my gumbo. It’s amazing. Or you can just pay me to make it for you. I’m a renaissance business woman.

BCG Verses Wal-Mart

2009-11-27T15:30:00.000-08:00

The alarm on the nightstand at my mother’s house was set for 3am this morning to wake us up for the unthinkable. The smell of turkey and pumpkin pie still lingering in the air, we made a pack – we were going to camp out at Wal-Mart.

All who know me know I hate Wal-Mart. They put small businesses out of business and bully their vendors. They deflate profit margins, make competition impossible, and are working towards a global monopoly where they could then price anyway they want.

But the economy is bad, so I’ll get off my soap box and admit if we are going to recover, people have to buy things – anywhere they can. I wanted to see first hand if we are on an up-tick. I also heard they were letting people sleep in the store before opening at 5am alongside the items they wanted to buy. Camping out next to stuff in the store? Camera phone in hand I went to bed with visions of Mullet haircuts and grown folks in pajamas dancing in my head.

I’m not as perky and enthusiastic at 3am and I imagined I would be at 9pm. That aside, the scene inside was not what I expected.

These were everyday people. Sleepy like me, all trying to get a little more for their Christmas dollars. There were orderly lines, marked with gold balloons down almost every isle and somewhat helpful associates with “event staff” name badges.

And an event this was.

This line in the pet isle was for $219 lap tops. The woman I spoke with wanted to get one for her daughter who left for college with out a computer because they couldn’t afford one. Psp’s were $89.99, and I was told this is a steal. I didn’t know what this was before, but I was in the minority because the line stretched for 2 isles.

I spoke with a lot of people -- what is this line for? When did you get here? How much is that? Most people were buying gifts. And I saw lots of people paying with cash.

So I continued to wonder around when I stumbled on one line away from the rest. It was long and separated and took over almost 4 isles in the toy section. At the front, an army of event staff stood on tall pallets handing out flat screen TV’s.

“How much are these?”

“$249.99, 32 inches.” The event man said proudly. “But you can’t get a ticket, they were all given out a long time ago.”

I wasn’t in the market for a TV, but $250 bucks was unbelievable. I walked down a few more isles, past the end of the line, and there, low and behold, an event staff member had more tickets. He didn’t realize there were supposed to be no more. He wasn’t told it was supposed to be over. I could buy one. I could get on line and walk away with one. I paused for a moment before I crossed over to the dark side down the Barbie dress up isle…

I won’t bore you with the gory details of all that happened next. But know that football at my house on Sundays will now be viewed in HD.

Wall-Mart (1) verses this Big City Girl => Wall-Mart wins – TKO