How to Be Tantalizing
I’m in big trouble. How do you size up? (Psst. I think that Public Relations Director is gay.)
From the awful book Dancercize, 1967
What Keeps You Company?
Every day for as long as I can remember, I’ve been getting the NY Times delivered at home. There’ve been many Sunday mornings waking up alone, when seeing the blue-wrapped paper outside my door, reassured me, like an old friend coming over to visit. What keeps you company?
Comic by Grant Snider
Zip It
Yesterday, stewing in Oscar traffic, I inched by the Beverly Hills Hotel. I’m rarely on this stretch of road, and it suddenly brought back a buried memory from when I lived in San Francisco. I’d flown to this storied hotel for romance, with a man I’d met the week before, while he was filming a commercial at my neighborhood restaurant. We’d kissed with meaning in the parking lot, and he urged me to come to L.A. for a rendezvous. I had such excitement in the cab ride to Beverly Hills. Could he be the one? Our room was swank and full of promise, but the weekend was a bust. He got drunk. Less than 12 unconsummated hours later, I called my trusted L.A. pal William to pick me up. Surrounded by shiny white limos outside the hotel, I waited, forlorn. 45 minutes later, my real Knight circled around in his white Mazda and rescued me.
Photo by Suzanna Scott
The Total Look
Photo by William Claxton. “The Total Look: the Creative Collaboration Between Rudi Gernreich, Peggy Moffitt and William Claxton,” is at the MOCA satellite in West Hollywood through May 20.
The Slippery Slope of What If
What if I was better with a blow dryer?
What if I was more willing to wear high heels?
What if I hadn’t moved to San Francisco in my twenties?
What if my hobby wasn’t ballet?
What if I would’ve settled?
What if I cared less about my work?
What if I cared more for “beach reads”?
What if I didn’t want my opinion heard?
What are your what ifs?
Image: Ed Ruscha
How To Be Cool When You’re Single
Before moving to the condo in my hip, new neighborhood, I agonized over what to do about my cat. Lily had spent 12 bucolic years lounging, mostly outside, in the sun-baked garden dirt. I gathered advice at pet stores about bringing her indoors. I bought a bunch of gear. Scratch pad, litter box, mouse toys. But the news was grim. Friends took me aside, and begged me not to do it. You’ll ruin her life, they said, and she’ll ruin yours. It was a wrenching decision, like Sophie’s choice. Do I take Lily with me, to live in hemmed in agony, or leave her (with the man who’d help raise her) in the tree-lined street she called home. I considered putting her on a leash, to walk around the new hood, which considering its denizens, wouldn’t be so weird. But I knew she’d hate it, and I didn’t have that much self esteem. (P.S. I visit Lily regularly and she seems to be thriving without me.)
Image from Coolness Graphed
What Do We Eat When We Eat Alone?
“It seems to me that eating alone is about something satisfying like all corn and tomatoes, without having to follow the rules the way you do when you have to consider someone else. Though I suppose that if I ate alone all the time, I’d be the opposite, making swell little meals in a committed way.” Fran McCullough, cookbook author
Alone, and with friends, I dine like a Queen: Salted almonds, spaghetti Bolognese, BBQ chicken, Bufalo mozzarella on crusted bread, chicken pot pie, chocolate chip cookies, Carne asada burrito, Vicolo pizza, arugula salad with shaved Reggiano, Straus mint ice cream, good Chinese take-out, banana yogurt smoothie, Texas chili, and on and on. AND YOU?
What We Eat When We Eat Alone by Deborah Madison
Image: Hamburger Helper by Amelia Stier
Finding the Right Fit
I’ve gone out on a lot of dates with an eclectic mix of bad boys, rich men, everyday Joes, foreigners, frustrated artists, good Jewish sons, Scorpios, a celebrity (won’t kiss and tell, but at the time he was famous) and even an outright Republican. By the light of day, I’m confident that not one among them was my mate. But there are shoes in my closet that felt like love at first sight, and will be with me for life. Moral of the story? You tell me.
Image: Marc Johns
Archive for February, 2012
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