Girl on the curl...

As most of you know I had a pretty serious surf accident almost two years ago. Now the accident itself wasn’t too bad, while out surfing I broke my nose resulting in me having to have it re-broken in two places and physically moved over. The serious part of the accident happened when I was knocked unconscious. Luckily I came to less than a minute later but was underwater and covered in blood. Turns out I had a pretty serious concussion, after spending the afternoon in the hospital I was released to only come home and go in and out of consciousness the next couple of days, including throwing up anything that was put into my system even water. Since then I have had a fear of my drop down. For those of you that don’t surf, a drop is what happens after a wave breaks, you have a moment where you literally ride down the wave. It happens right at the beginning… kind of hard to surf when I’m literally petrified of the first part of the wave. Sure I’ve been out there. I’ve ridden every small wave that’s come into Southern California in the last year and a half. I’ve ridden the larger waves, just after they break so that I don’t have to face my fear… and until recently I didn’t even remember the accident at all. Which I think helped, and then a couple of weeks ago it all came back to me while out surfing, making me relive the accident and relive that fear… now this past weekend a great swell came in. And I thought it have been about time for me to conquer my fears.

Now fears are a funny thing. We all have them. Some are small, personally I’m afraid of airplane bathrooms and actually have to close the lid before I flush the toilet in them (even at 30!)… some are a little bit bigger, I’m deathly afraid of falling in love again. Afraid of being hurt. And then some are deep seeded, like the fear of the wave that measures over 3 feet (meaning that at 3-4 feet it often is more like 6-7 feet as it starts to break!).. but lately I’ve decided to face all of my fears head on. I’m not the person to sit at home and wallow. I’m someone who runs headfirst into the water and deals with the consequences later. Bones heal, bruises slowly fade (wither they be of the body or the heart) and the awesome feeling you get after a perfect ride more than conquers that fear. I have friends that are afraid of getting out there, both in the waves and in love. Afraid that meeting that person will lead to them getting hurt. Afraid having to go through that heartbreak again. Afraid of being left alone yet again. Of hearing “I’ve met someone” of finding out that they never were in love with you…But here’s the thing, the fear doesn’t go away. Just because you try and close yourself off and won’t allow yourself to fall in love again doesn’t mean that everything is going to be all right. The fear is always there. And with every person you meet, you will just feel more and more afraid. And personal who wants to live their life afraid?! So this week I faced some of my fears. And I paddled out with the boys, and I got my perfect wave… and after dropping down for what felt like forever I soon realized I was still on my board and my smile just got bigger and bigger. I did it. And boy did it ever feel amazing. And after that I paddled right back out there and got slaughter on my next wave. The leash wrapped itself around my ankle as I fell, and while I tumbled the board just kept going with the insane power of the wave and that swell. Now in one day I caught a great wave and I also caught one that stopped my heart for a second as I was caught under the water and couldn’t get up. But the thing was I just tumbled with it. I knew fighting that wave would have led to a panic... so instead I just tumbled and knew I would be ok, and I was. When I popped my head up I took a couple of huge breaths and then got right back on that board and paddled back out. Because here’s the thing about your fears, you never truly conquer them. I’m always going to see those waves as potential nose breakers. I’m always going to get knocked off and knocked around. I’m always going to end up with bruises (again on my body and my heart)… And I’m always going to see that next guy as potential to completely rip my heart to shreds… but you know what, that next ride I got was even better than the first. Sure it may not have been Kelly Slater’s perfect double over head barrel of this past weekend, but it was pretty damn perfect for me. And that’s why I keep doing what I do. For that one perfect 10 wave… because like they say, there’s always a perfect wave in ever heat. And it looks like I’m just about to start catching mine again…

"YOU BROKE MY HEART!"

So at the end of the day I was left with one thought- Does swiping someone with my surfboard, make us even for him breaking my heart? In the long run maybe if I had actually knocked him out, then yes… but maybe I should back up before I look like a deranged bunny boiler going after Mr. Piranha… After last weeks emotional exhaustion that was giving back all of his stuff, I was hoping my heart would have awhile to heal before I would see him again. We both have too many mutual friends and mutual activities to not run into each other. And I’m sure we will be running into each others romantic interest too before the year is out, but was hoping for some time before any of that. Well things don’t always go according to plan, do they? Instead only a week after seeing him last, and saying my final goodbye, I was not prepared to see him today. Friday is our usual surf day… and I assumed that after all that has happened he would opt out of it. And I knew it was going to be hard going without him but it was something that I’m trying to get use to in general so I knew I would get through it just fine. But what I didn’t expect was to spend the morning surfing with him, trying to pretend like everything was fine… when all I wanted to do was scream. Because the truth of the matter is I’m really angry. Angrier than I’ve been in a really long time. I spent a lot of time being hurt. A lot of time crying. A lot of time being confused…and have just been left with this rage. I’m angry for all the lies he told me. I’m angry about all the times he told me that I was amazing when he doesn’t really believe that. I’m angry about every time he looked at me in those puppy dog eyes with a twinkle in them, and every time he would give me this grin that seemed like it was meant just for me… I’m angry that I left him get under my skin and showed him just how much. Angry every time he calls me by a nickname that he knows only a select few call me, and one that just reminds me of every time he use to say it… and how much it use to mean to hear him say it…But most of all I’m angry for falling in love with someone once again who just doesn’t love me… And I’m so angry that I can’t be around him. He tried to talk to me most the morning, I couldn’t even look at him, could talk, couldn’t even say hi. I tried to avoid him, though it’s hard to do on an ordinary day of surfing but near impossible on a day when the waves were 8 - 10 feet, when one missed step and you could be drug under a very large very powerful wave. And we slowly got into a pattern, after everyone had to bail after about 15 minutes in the waves, it was just us. Both keeping an eye out for the other, both making sure that the other was ok. And so we surfed. Not really saying anything except checking in every once in awhile. And roughly 2 hours later, after we were worked from the waves we called it a day. And slowly made it back to the shore… he tried a few comments to get me to come out of my shell, and I just couldn’t bite. He once again made a sexual comment when I got out of my wetsuit, and for a moment I saw that sparkle back in his eye and saw how much he does appreciate what I look like wearing very little. And I just had to turn away. Because at the end of the day all I felt was nothing. I looked at him and I knew it was over. No longer were we lovers. No longer were we friends. No longer were we even acquaintances…instead we were stranger. Two strangers that just happen to spend a couple of hours every week in the water together. But who when back on land have nothing left… and that makes me very sad. That someone who I once was so close with I can’t even bare to be in the same room as. I don’t know if I have ever shut down like I have now with him… as we know I’m always the one who smoothes things over. Always the one who tries to be friends. And I have since things went south, but when it came down to it today I just couldn’t do it anymore… and maybe this anger will leave me. But from where I sit tonight that’s not going to happen for awhile…and maybe it’s healthy to finally be mad. To finally not be able to see him. To finally maybe be able to stop remembering all the great times we had. Because what I need to remember is exactly how I feel now. Hurt. Betrayed. Confused. And furious… because this is what he has done to me… and really why would I ever want to go back and be friends with someone who makes me feel like this? So for now I will opt out of Friday morning surf sessions. Carefully crafted answers and a trip to San Onofre will replace my 7am paddle out with friends. And it sucks that it’s come to this. But once I’m going to opt out of seeing the one who has broken my heart. Will stop trying to be friends. And will just move on. After all, hasn’t he?!

Comfort in the arms of an old friend

I have an often confusing and complicated relationship with most of my ex’s. Most of it stems from my inability to not remain friends with them. Something that often has resulted in more problems than they were worth, and more often than not with an even bigger hole in my heart. Some such as Mr. FB and Mr. Ex have turned out to be amazing friends and always there for me. Some such as Mr. Arizona and Mr. Green have just continually broken my heart until I finally reached my boiling point and kicked them both out of my heart and my life. But then there is one that is often more confusing and complicated than either of us know what to do with, Mr. Wyoming. We often can bring out the best in each other, but just as many times bring out the worst. Over the years we have continually walked this very fine line that eventually one of us crosses and some dramatic moment will ensure. Usually with one of us telling the other to lose our number and then without fail a couple months later he will usually call, I will resist, he will keep calling and then we start the trouble over again. To this day neither of us can really remember why we broke up the first time. I remember his father flying out and putting an end to it, he just remembers us falling apart… who knows what the real reason was, if there really even was one. But somewhere along the line we became connected in a way that’s hard to pin point. No longer in love with him, I will always care for him. When he showed up on my doorstep just before I left for Havasu I was shocked. In December after yet another odd freak out by him we both decided that this was not worth it. So when he showed up to apologize for everything over the years and to tell me that of all the people in his life that I was the only one who has every truly been there for him, to say that I was speechless was an understatement. And since I’ve left for Havasu we’ve stayed in touch with emails frequently, a few text messages and a few facebook comments. Since returning from Havasu I’ve hung out with him, but none of the old feelings came back. Just two old friends hanging out… but there’s something different that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s because I don’t really want to. I don’t want to know the difference; I don’t want to know where that difference can lead. Last night we once again hung out, had drinks in my apartment, went over some new changes I want to make (he’s going to help on Thursday Paint my bedroom and kitchen.)… And for the first time in a long time we ended up back in my bed. Now he and I never really got out sex life together, it became a big joke that we really were just not sexually compatible. And for a good part of last night it was the same as always. We ended up stopping and just laid in bed laughing about it. But the changing moment was when he looked at me and asked why after all these years we just couldn’t get it together. And I knew he meant more than just the sex. And I kind of shrugged and laughed, a sign that we aren’t meant for each other I said… and yet after that the sex was kind of fantastic. And we fell asleep in each other’s arms to only wake up in the middle of the night and once again try a little fantastic out… and in the end I was left with a smile. Finally figured it out… just too late to figure us out. Maybe it finally worked because we were more honest with each other last night than we ever have been. We laughed, and talked and reminisced… and I was surprised that after all these years we are still so familiar to each other. In a way it’s like coming back to my past...

Sometimes a Sand Dollar is just a Sand Dollar...

I’ve spent the last week trying to find meaning in Sand Dollars. Mr. Piranha came and picked up all his stuff that he’s left at my house, including his surfboard. It’s funny, returning his wetsuit and misc other items he’s left in my apartment and car wasn’t hard. I just washed what was here and put them all in a bag, including a CD that I had burned for him awhile back. But seeing him come for the board really made my heart drop. In my naïve state I saw that board as a symbol of hope. On my birthday he even joked that he was slowly moving into my apartment. That board meant we would continue to surf all the time, that he actually did want to be with me, that he would be able to get over his issues and things would work themselves out. What I didn’t realize was that he was working out these issues on someone else and that I was just becoming his storage bin. At first he was hesitant about getting his board, but I think that was just a cover, him trying to still be the nice guy because as soon as I mentioned him coming to pick it up he jumped at the chance… and since then I’ve been a jumble of emotions. Mad that I actually let him think I forgave him (though who am I kidding, of course I forgave him for many of the things). Mad at myself that I let him come surf. Something that he annoyingly continued to thank me for the rest of the day. Mad at myself that I let him off the hook so easily. A half ass apology once again telling me how amazing I am, shouldn’t have cut it. And in fact there was a moment when I completely let him off the hook, and oddly it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with a little pet sand dollar… When he came down I kept him at arms length. It was awkward and I am not ashamed to say I wasn’t that nice. We surfed and I continued to keep him at arms length until I noticed that right at the edge of the water were thousands of live sand dollars. Something so amazing that I can’t even describe them. And I played with them and searched the beach… the irony of them is that for as many live ones there were just as many dead ones, washed ashore and broken. Growing up I always believed that each sand dollar represented a broken heart. And there I was, with mine breaking more and more every minute finding tons of broken hearts washed up on the beach, and a few whole ones (which if you have ever searched for sand dollars know that those are really rare. )And I took it as a sign…

Since then I have researched Sand Dollars. I found out that they have a huge meaning in Catholicism and actually are the symbol for love, hope, and rebirth. And I thought that someone was trying to tell me something… in the end I’ve realized that they really are just sand dollars. Just live animals that got washed up due to an incoming storm off Mexico. They aren’t any higher being trying to tell me something. Because as much as I believe in signs, what would the universe be telling me. To not give up hope? That’s what my girls had been telling me this past month. That my broken heart will heal, even in my most dramatic state I know that it will. That something better will come? Doesn’t it always… That this is a chance to once again start over… sure that sounds nice. But for once I’d like to not be starting over. I’ve like to not end up in tears. I’d like to not be left alone on my Saturday nights while the one that I really want to be with is out with who he actually wants to be with. I don’t know when that’s going to happen… if it ever will. I’ve always thought I’d be married and with kids at this point in my life. And I’ve finally come to realize that I’m actually really happy that I’m not. That my life is just starting and I have so many adventures out there to live… it’s just that I’d like someone to share them with. And despite all the differences that we had, despite that even some of our closest friends had a hard time seeing us together, I know deep down that he was someone that I could share my adventures with… and that is worth a lot more than a handful of sand dollars ever will.

And part three... the final part.

So much has happened in the last week and I’ve had a hard time writing about it. Over the years you have watched as I fall in and out of love. Watched me get hurt. Watched me pick myself up all the while saying this time I’m really broken…in fact I’ve begun to feel like the little girl who cried pain… and maybe it’s because when you fall you forget all the spills you’ve had in the past. You just look on with hope and forget all the hurt. But once again I lay broken… and I know that just like all the rest, I will get over him. I will move on with someone else… but this one is going to be really hard to get over. I don’t know when it happened but somewhere between Havasu and Los Angeles I fell in love. But a completely different love. For once I wasn’t oblivious to his faults. Instead I fell in love with him… and over the last month he has told me many things, given me many promises, and weaved a web of lies. I’ve spent many nights playing with his kittens. I’ve had him cook me dinner. We’ve spent many morning surfing. Looking for the best taco places in Los Angeles. I’ve met his friends. He’s hung out with mine… and I believed everything that he told me. When he said he’s still in pain from his last relationship and needed time, I believed that. When he said he needs to take a break from dating, I believed that. We he sent me email after email telling me just how awesome and amazing I am, I believed that too. And I know now I should have walked away in Havasu. I have very few regrets in my life, in fact I can count them on one finger, and the fact of the matter is that if I could have skipped a party back in December and never met him I would without hesitation. Because after each break up I have been left with a different set of hurts, but never have I felt completely raw with humiliation as I do right now. Not even being posted naked on the internet has left me feeling like this… On Saturday he finally told me the truth. In one short conversation I found out all those “issues” he had with himself and how he couldn’t date were really just issues with me. He told me point blank that yes he was seeing someone else, but that it wasn’t exclusive because “I just need to be single for awhile because I’m enjoying fucking a lot of girls”… and it was in the moment that I actually couldn’t catch my breath. Because I looked at him with all the love in my eyes and staring back at me were the eyes of someone I don’t know. I was also informed of my sexual issues- apparently I don’t give enough blow jobs… it wasn’t just him being honest, it was him being down right cruel. I tried to get him to leave, but in fact was told he still had a beer to drink, so I Ieft to shower and get ready for the night. When I got out he was still there… and in that moment I hated him. More than I can remember feeling in a really long time. Because I will say it, I hate him right now.

Since Saturday I’ve received emails and texts from him, apologizing. Saying he didn’t mean anything that he said on Saturday. Telling me once again how amazing I am, trying to take back his blow job comment and in fact told me: “The sex was really fun, you look great naked and you do some really cool stuff with your vagina”, romantic, right?! That I didn’t deserve to be treated like this, that he didn’t mean it, that he’s scared of a relationship and that he just felt panicked at the thought of getting into one again. That I’m a really “cool chick”… and every day goes on and I don’t feel any better. I feel a hole where one of my close friends use to be… I miss him even more than I hate him. And yet I know that this time I cannot be friends with him. I’ve tried to return his surfboard… and even now as I sit here crying I just received another text from him. I told him that I cannot be friends, but the truth of the matter is that we have too many mutual friends for us to not run into each other. When he asked about surfing this week I told him that we will have to eventually so might as well get this over with. But at the same time I told him that that will be the only time he will see me. And even now I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face him…

The Holiday weekend and my Piranha Bite…part 2 of 3

Friday I was very hopeful, things with Mr. P seemed to be back to normal. We were having a blast hanging out, he was finally back to his old flirtatious self, we had spent an amazing day before and I was excited to meet his guy friends. It was the birthday of one of his oldest and dearest, one of his Fraternity Brothers from back east and I was going to get to meet all his close guys. And call me crazy, but I always take it as a good sign when the guy wants me to meet his boys. Now I’ve meet his roommates and we get along great. I’ve met a bunch of his girl friends, because they are how I met him originally. But the boys, now those I haven’t met. I of course brought along some back up of my own, two of my girl friends who although don’t know these guys just happen to be just as close, if not closer with Mr. P than I am. And the evening started off promising. Flirty text messages going back and forth had me ready for a fun night… and by fun I mean I was thinking that maybe I should have shaved my legs after all. And things seemed to be going great, he was very touchy feely, kept telling me just how amazing I looked and in fact started hinting about maybe he would like a little company in his bed that night. I hit it off with the rest of his friends, and even had a giggle when one of the girls came up to me and was like oh you’re Hardt, we’ve been teasing him about you and waiting to meet you. I thought damn I’m in… and when I went to say goodnight he leaned in and gave me just exactly what I’ve been waiting for since I came back from Havasu- that amazing goodnight kiss. But then of course when I should have gone home with him, I went home alone. He once again freaked out and told me that he couldn’t do this and when I went to the car I received the message that really just killed me: “I’m so sorry for the mind fuck. You are gorgeous. And amazing. And sexy. And I want to be with you so bad. But I can’t. I just need time or something. There’s a lot going on right now and I just need some time. I’m sorry”

And once again I was bitten. I couldn’t believe it. And for hours the text messages flew, with confessions and truths that I actually can’t share. I said I wouldn’t tell a soul, and for once I am keeping my promise. And yes there are many reasons why he shouldn’t be in a relationship right now, but he seems to be forgetting the main reason why he should- the fact that no matter what happens, no matter how many times he says he doesn’t want to be with me and can’t be with me, no matter what he tries to do, at the end of the day does think about me. He still is drawn to me, to us to what we were. And that’s the hardest. If he just didn’t want to be with me, it would be so easy to walk away. If he could look me in the eye and say I just don’t want you, I would be gone…but he can’t. Even when I asked him to say that to me on Friday night, he couldn’t. All he could say is that he needs time…

And yet again he woke up Saturday morning claiming he doesn’t remember much of what he said the night before. And yet again he sent texts all day seeing how my 4th was going… and yet again we spent a Sunday night cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First to the intermission of the 4th…

The Holiday Weekend and my Piranha Bite. Part 1 of 3- with a brief intermission for the 4th

In relationships it’s not abnormal for me to be jealous, but it’s an odd jealousy. When I’m out with the guys and they are talking to other girls, I never get jealous. I always know that they are going home with me so I am usually very secure on that. But what I do get jealous about are these friends of theirs that I don’t know. These girls that pop up on their caller id, or their facebook pages or just in random conversation. And add to that this very weird sense of things, I sometimes go a little over the edge with that jealousy. I always know the one. The girl they end up cheating on me with. The girl they break up with me for. The girl they are dating at the same time. It’s weird how I can sense it. It’s never the girl that leaves millions of messages. It’s never the girl that we hang out with on a Saturday night. It’s never the overly flirty girl. So I don’t know how I know.. .but I do.

Now this week I had a different kind of jealousy. Resigned to the fact that Mr. Piranha and I are only going to be friends I’ve been hanging out with him a bit more. And when he called to invite me to go surfing Thursday I was excited. Mostly we’ve been hanging out with people, and even when I was over as his place the other night watching movies we watched it with his two roommates and his very attentive cat, Tink. So the idea of being out in the water with him basically just chilling for an hour or two was very appealing…until he brought along the girl I can never be, Miss Friend. Now I’ve known Miss Friend for years and have even become hiking buddies with her recently. We’ve always gotten along and it is in fact through her that I met Mr. Piranha. Now she has always intimidated me. It’s hard to explain why, but she reminds me of that girl in high school, the one who never cared much what people thought about her, who smoked behind the bleachers and was always one step cooler than you were though you could never pin point why. Through the years I’ve always been a little shy around Miss Friend, never felt quite cool enough. Which is odd because I never have that feeling, I can walk up to almost anyone and strike up a conversation. Yet with her I’m a bit more subdued. Now add on top of that that she is without a doubt the closest friend that Mr. Piranha has and they are so close at times I feel they are the same person, and are inseparable so it’s only normal that now I am even more intimidated by her. And seeing how close they are it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me when I got a text message last night saying she was coming surfing too… But it’s an understatement to say I wasn’t a little disappointed. And it wasn’t because I was hanging out with her, and it wasn’t because I was hanging out with the two of them because oddly enough when I’m actually with the two of them I somehow feel less out of place. A friend of mine reminded me this weekend that no matter what I do he will never look at me the way he does her, and that they will always have these inside jokes and I will always feel out of their circle. But in fact I feel the exact opposite. When I am with them they both go a bit out of the way to make sure I feel included. And in fact the three of us had a blast surfing and we have plans to go again this week. The only reason I was disappointed was due to the fact that I was hoping to spend some time with him alone so that I can get use to the whole we are just friend’s thing and really try and move past this. Instead we had an amazing time the three of us which just let me with this feeling of why can’t this work out!

After the day spent surfing Miss Friend headed home and Mr. P and I got Tacos and beers and just chilled at my place for the afternoon… and I would like to say there wasn’t any tension between us that we were just two friends hanging out, but we all know that wasn’t the case. In fact when he mentioned how it was such a great idea for us to hang out and surf I agreed and told him that it was all part of my master plan. That the more we hang out, the more I will want to be with him. And his exact response was: “Well that didn’t work out too well now did it?” After I got a little defensive, I mean I at least thought I was putting on a good front, he replied- “No I was talking about me. Hanging out with you has not made me want you less, in fact it’s only made me want you more”… so the plan has back fired. And that night he not only invited me to BBQ at his house the next day but sent me a message that night letting me know that not only did he have an amazing time with me but just how much of an amazing girl I was… hopeful, yes. Ready for the boat to get rocked, most definitely. About to be disappointed yet again, read on…

I'm 30!

I’m 30. I don’t have the perfect life. I haven’t met the allusive “Mr. Right”. I don’t have 2.5 kids. I don’t live in that house with the white picket fence. I don’t have that perfect job. I may not have had the “perfect” life but I have had an amazing one.

In the past 30 years I’ve had wild crazy passionate affairs and even got caught having sex in a national park (as well as given a blow job driving down the sunset strip in Vegas). I learned to surf, kick box, kayak, became a yoga master, hitch hiked through Hawaii, gone off roading through mountains and deserts, white water rafted, zip lined through rainforests, cliff dived in Jamaica, gone bungee jumping, learned to ride a stand up jet ski, hiked an active volcano, ran from a rattle snake, gotten stung by a jelly fish, a sting ray, and had a man of war wrap itself around my body. I’ve gotten caught in a rip current, held under a wave, knocked unconscious by my surfboard, broken my nose, sprained my knee, been to multiple emergency rooms and gotten multiple concussions.

I’ve been in 5 major relationships and more minor ones than I care to remember! I’ve cried myself to sleep many nights but I’ve woken up with a smile on my face so many more.

I love taking a nap with someone on Sunday afternoons especially after a day at the beach! And will marry in an instant the guy who loves sand in the bed as much as I do.

I’ve work on top rated Sitcoms, huge budget romantic comedy films, disaster movies with famous directors but can’t wait to move into Environmental Documentaries.
I’ve been vegan, vegetarian, carnivore, carb-free, carb-addict, you name it and I’ve tried it. Right now I just am me. And although I’ve never received flowers from a boyfriend at one point I thought I would marry the man who brought me cheese instead…until I found that man. And until recently I’d never had a boy cook me dinner (still dreaming about those damn Brussel Sprouts too!)

I think walks in the moonlight are the best, especially in the sand. And the best place for a date is the Santa Monica Pier complete with ice cream and a ride on the Farris Wheel.

Even though I know that he’s just not that into you if he isn’t calling I still will call him (and text, and facebook, and BBM…) I hate anyone being mad at me so I will always call and apologize even if they were in the wrong. I will forgive someone for anything, which most people will say is my biggest fault. I think it’s one of my biggest strengths, though it literally kills me a little bit inside every time I do.
Some of my ex’s are my best friends and I’m even still friends with the first guy I ever slept with and who, like everyone has always predicted, will be at my wedding. He will just not be the one waiting at the end of the aisle for me.

I’ve been set up on blind dates by all my friends and except for one they have all been disasters. I’ve tried online dating, dated friends brothers, friend’s cousins, friends of friends, ex’s of friends and even spent a memorable evening speed dating. But all those dating disasters have lead to funny stories, a blog and hopefully before long a book!

I don’t adhere to the 3 day before calling or the 3 dates before sleeping with them rules! I don’t believe “It’s not you it’s me”, obviously it is me or we’d be together. I’ve finally learned that “I just can’t date anyone right now really means I just don’t want to date YOU! I don’t play games which is one of the reasons why I can’t keep a relationship for more than a couple of months and I’m too honest for my own good. I don’t believe in Nice Guys, but still hope they are out there. And despite it all- all the bad dates, the broken hearts, the unanswered calls, the times I’ve been cheated, all the men that have left and all those failed romances, despite everything I still believe in Soul Mates.

Many people yell at me for living in what they coin a fantasy land but I will always believe in the best of people. I also believe in second chances (and third and fourth and fifth)… And when I get an idea in my head, I start to make plans. I can’t help myself. I just get caught up in the moment, in life, in the possibilities that could be and fall head first into everything (including men). I wish on a star almost every night. I throw pennies into every fountain I pass. I try and wish on 11:11… And at 30 I still believe in fairytale endings, in pots of gold at the end of rainbows and that there really is a silver lining on every dark cloud. But although I still believe in Happily Ever After, I’ve finally learned that life isn’t a romantic comedy. Sometimes it isn’t about happy endings, at least not the kind I dreamt of as a little girl. Because sometimes in life the princess doesn’t get to keep her prince. And more often than not he just turns out to be a frog. But I’ve learned that it’s not about the destination in life, it’s about the journey. And boy have I had some journeys!

I cry at happy endings and love horror moves more than anything. The Shinning is my staple for Valentine’s Day and one of my favorite things to do in the summer is to see old horror movies at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

I’ve traveled around the world every way possibly including by ferry, hydro-plane, mule, helicopter, horse, car, truck, bike, kayak, shuttle… and yet to this day I’m still afraid of airplane bathrooms and have to put the lid down before I flush them.
I moved to Los Angeles 8 years ago not knowing a soul. And in the last 8 years, this once strange and scary city has become the home that I never imagined. I have met amazing people, the people that everyone else in the world only dream about. And at the same time I have met friends that I can now only call family. I’ve surround myself with a group of people that have literally brought me back to the living more times that they will ever know. They are a hodgepodge of people that I’ve met over the years. Some are from Elementary School, some College, some from Universal, Warner Brothers, New Line and various Films and TV shows. Somehow through dinners and drinks, nights spent crying and laughing, days spent on the beach surfing and biking, through births and deaths, through break ups and wedding, and through 8 years of life they have become my family.

I love thunderstorms, the louder the better. And if I get to have sex during one then I truly am in heaven!

I hate people not returning phone calls so no matter how mad I am with someone I will always call them back. And yes I will get mad at you when you don’t respond to my text messages!

I’ve goggled everyone I’ve ever dated (and possibly facebook stalked as well). And if you date me you will end up in one of my blogs.

My mom is my best friend and my father is the first person I call if something good or bad happens.

At 30 I’ve finally stopped trying to be who people want me to be. I’m far from perfect. I often go at least an extra day without shaving my legs. I’ve started to except that I will always have a belly is sticks out more than it should. My face still breaks out from stress. More often than not my hair is just in an unbrushed pony. I prefer my glass to my contacts. I often go days without wearing a bra. I’m grumpy, demanding, whiny, solitary, spastic, loud, overbearing, crazy, obsessive, and dorky me. I spend way too much time on my computer. Too many hours dissecting my belly. Gets depressed when the scale goes up… and giddy when it goes down.

I’ve had a tumultuous couple of years and have learnt that it’s ok to be 30 and not married, to not have my 2.5 kids yet, to not own my own house, to not have a job that I totally love or get paid enough for. It’s ok to not wear SPF 40 (and not to feel guilty about it). Ok to skip dinner to have that chocolate cake. Ok to not have that diamond ring from Tiffany’s. It’s OK to not look like Barbie, to not agree with my parents view on my life, to enjoy sex (even if it sometimes is with the wrong guy). And most importantly it’s Ok to just be ME!

In the past 30 years I’ve died my hair platinum, brown, maroon, and finally back to its natural blond, I’ve broken someone’s heart and had my own broken (more than once!), bailed a boyfriend out of jail, gotten reviewed in numerous papers, had a naked super bowl party (for only two of course!), totaled a car (well had it totaled for me), gotten a tattoo, did a walking marathon, lost 5 dress sizes and 40 pounds, been posted naked on craigslist, learned to mix the perfect drink (and began writing about it), learned to put on false eyelashes (hey that one was really hard!), spent an entire day naked in bed with someone, built a bonfire from scratch, built a perfect sandcastle, thrown a black tie party, gotten the answer right in final Jeopardy, built a website from scratch, killed every plant I’ve ever owned, met my idols, lit fireworks on the beach…And just lived my life. Maybe not the way I’m supposed to, maybe it’s not “perfect”, maybe it’s not how you’d live your life… When I think back to what I thought my life would be like at 30 and all the things that I thought I should have or should have done I can see that for everything that is still missing there are at least 3 amazing things that are in its place, things that I never thought possible, that I never even dreamed of. Life is a funny thing, you go through it with this plan, this idea of what your life should be like. And then one day you realize that your life might just be everything you’ve ever wanted. Sure it may not be wrapped up in a happy little bow yet, but really who wants their Happy Ever After at 30? For me I can’t wait to see how this story plays out… right now I’m just at the 3rd Act twist. In fact this is just The Beginning…