discount Dating...My First Official Op-Ed piece

According to Datingsitesreviews.com “ As of 2012 there are estimated to be 1500 dating sites in the United States”. I find that number a bit disturbing. There’s just something so wrong about finding a date the same way you order sushi or a new end table.
As a single white female living in New York, who happens to be curvaceous, blond and bubbly, I am loathe to admit that I have spent some time myself surfing the net looking for my one true love. I am not a fan, and after multiple attempts on various sites, I have nothing to show for it but an arsenal of freaks, geeks and weirdoes. I do know a handful of people who have found soul mates online, so I can’t knock it entirely, but for me I feel like Forest Gump when I'm on there. Yes, its just like his box of chocolates, “you never know what you’re going to get", and when you open the box all the ones with the delicious raspberry jelly or vanilla crème filling are either gone or half eaten. There might be wonderful catches out there, but I’ve certainly never found one, and I tried many times.
For example, I met a young man who seemed lovely at first until he revealed to me after several dates that he was a lifestyle living nudist. Another, who was incredibly handsome and smooth, told me all about his daughter Sophia coming to visit that summer. When he began telling me he could only see me at 5 am because “Sophia didn’t approve” I discovered Sophia was actually his wife. And then of course there’s the guy who was so sweet he wouldn’t even kiss me until he knew me better. After I invited him to dinner with my gay friends Harold and James, and he fixed himself in the mirror before they arrived so he could “look good for them”, I realized the real reason why he didn’t want to kiss me.
Yes these are only a few true stories and the worst part is, I actually spent time and money looking for these men. Internet dating has become so involved it’s almost like a full time job. As if my life isn’t busy enough, now I have to keep track of who has winked at me, messaged me, viewed my profile, and weed through an endless supply of one-word messages like “Hi” and “you’re cute”, and all for the low rate of $34.99/month.
I wish I could say I’m the only one I know with these horror stories but I am not alone. "Cyber shopping for a man" is like going to Daffy's or any discount store or outlet mall for that matter. You have to be prepared to really root around to find anything good. I mean sometimes you do get lucky and find that amazing Italian designer dress tucked way in the back of the rack, but let's face it; it takes time, dedication and work to find those gems. I don’t have the patience for that and you won’t find me cyber dating again, even if you pay me to do it.

How Pizza Became My Ex

There’s nothing more satisfying than a hot slice of cheesy pizza, until you find out it might be killing you. That’s exactly what happened to me this winter, and it broke my heart. In early January my mother, a beautiful blonde that is often categorized as a “MILF” by my brother’s college friends, was diagnosed with Celiac, an autoimmune disease that is caused by gluten, which destroys your small intestine. I was unaware of the disease then, but being the good daughter I am I tried to be supportive with text messages encouraging her to look for the positive. I was feeling good about myself until the phone rang. It was my mother with some bad news. Celiac is a genetic disease, which means I may have it too, and even though I am the middle of 3 children, I was the only one she and her doctor were concerned about. It was true I had some strange symptoms that could be indicative of Celiac, but I still felt like the classic middle child always getting the bum end of the stick. Why was I the only one going through this? And out of 3 children, why am I the one my mother probably gave it to? I was angry and felt singled out. No one wants to be informed his or her life might have to change forever, but I knew I had to find out.

I begrudgingly went to my Dr the next week for a few simple blood tests, which came back with mixed reviews. They were enough to indicate I might have it, but not enough to rule it out, and it warranted a next step, a trip to the dreaded gastroenterologist. When my Dr. said that word my stomach dropped to the floor. I was so upset I might as well have been told I was dying. I was infuriated and disappointed in myself, even though this was completely out of my control. The next week I saw my gastroenterologist and we discussed the gold standard of diagnosing Celiac, an endoscopy and a biopsy. As a singer and someone who just doesn’t like hospital gowns, I did not want to undergo the procedure. Truth is I was just petrified of knowing the truth but she talked me into it. She said “wouldn’t you rather know than go on limiting yourself based on an assumption that might not be true? Carrying that gluten free soy sauce might be cute now, but someday you might get sick of it and regret your decision.” I could not disagree and I scheduled the biopsy. She was right. I had to know but wanted to be prepared.

I started to carefully analyze my diet and lifestyle to accommodate the impending changes should I be positive, and in doing the research I became more and more upset. I would have to give up all my favorite comfort foods (which are mostly bad for me anyway) like macaroni and cheese, pizza and bagels, but it also affected everyday things like soy sauce, lipstick and vitamins. Going gluten free is a huge transition and I began to see the instant upgrade in costs being forced to buy brands and products that are far more expensive and specific. I was almost inconsolable, and my anxiety got so bad I began having food nightmares where I was haunted by fettuccini alfredo monsters chasing me down 8^th Ave and giant pizza boyfriends breaking my heart.

I was terrified and so I sought support by reaching out to fellow friends who suffer from gluten intolerance and celiac, nutritionists and everyone I could find. They taught me about healthy alternatives to all my favorite foods I was mourning, and I began to become aware of GMO’s and toxic foods. I found I wanted to make healthier choices. I started to stop and think before picking things up or taking a bite. For someone who has struggled with food addictions this was the perfect opportunity for me to finally change my patterns and help me live a healthier, happier life. Suddenly celiac wasn’t so bad.

But yet, when the day of the procedure came I did not sleep a wink. I was still afraid. I purposely wore the color orange to stay bright and cheery, and even meditated in the waiting room. I was pleasantly surprised however when everything from the nurse to the donning of the hospital gown to waking up and sipping juice, was easy and painless. And the best part was when the Dr. came in to tell me the procedure went perfectly well and I looked 100% healthy inside, and the likelihood of celiac was minimal. I left feeling triumphant. She called me a week later to tell me I was negative and could go back to living life normally or continue to avoid gluten if I chose. Before she hung up she said “Now aren’t you glad you know?”

I am glad I know, and even though I was terrified at the time, I am grateful to have gone on this emotional rollercoaster and to have learned in the process. It often seems easier to live in fear and make assumptions, rather than go and find out the truth, but in my case and with my health, it was worth it. And even though I don’t “have” to, I am continuing to stick to my mindful diet and am choosing to be healthy and love my body because now it’s important to me. Now I’m happy pizza no longer calls me, and I couldn’t feel better about it.

Smelly Sneaker Syndrome...

Smelly sneakers... Its sad but sometimes they have to go. You know you have a problem when your mom gives you odor eaters in your stocking... For example... I had a pair of Fav pumas stink up my sisters whole apt... And boy was I embarassed when joy's nose lead her straight to MY feet... I mean yeah they were cool black pumas with velcro snaps... But girl... They can always be replaced! I know its Sentimental but you have to let them go... For me, my Ex bf(Tommy G- also known as old man withers but will be known as Tommy G today) gave me sneakers a lot...so I have a hard time parting with them because Its like throwing away a piece of my heart every time... And every time a pair crossed over from fab to fabulously smelly... Itd take me a few months to finally euthanize them and let them go... For me- it takes an embarassing stentch to finally push me over the edge and throw them out. Today it was the flaming orange springy nikes that made their way into the trash... A tear was shed but I had to do it for the sake of everyone on this planet who comes in contact withj my feet- particulrly my friend gaby who accompanies me to the gym. Those sneakers remind of the day Tommy G and I lovingly unwrapped them in snowy NH and realized they were f------ bright! But I wore them for 3 years before finally ditching them for my new love- my froggy shoes (Vibram 5 Finger Shoes rock!!). So friends... I beg you... Don't let your own OCD issues keep you in smelly footwear beyond the first signs of decay...if your shoes smell worse than the dead rat in the basement...send them home to jesus! It can only lead to bad things and bad smells... And the inevitable pain you feel for tossing them in the garbage will only be prolonged. Just do it! Like Nike says... And spend another 150$ on a new pair of loving sneaks... That will hopefully not represent an old ex who nearly ruined your life (just kidding T) and bring you hours of odor free joy at the gym.

Crack or Herbal Tea?????

Crack, Herbal Tea or something in between... which would you pick?

I love hearing my friends talk about their therapists- I don't know why. Its just funny how they classify them as "theirs" like their pet or pocket watch... I don't have a therapist- but maybe I should! It seems to be a necessary accessory here in nyc- like a good pair of black pumps and a coach bag- every girl must have one or she is not "hip and happening" I have a healer- does that count? Or is that like having a wanna be knock off coach bag from the scary guy in the boiler room in chinatown?? I think not!

Anyway,a friend of mine was talking to me the other day about going to her therapist, and told me something he said to her that made me laugh. He said, in reference to her choice in men "You always go for the crack when you should be going for herbal tea" and I guess in some crazy sick way he's right! I mean, we always choose the things that are bad for us over the good- it's the classic bad boy syndrome were all familiar with- but why do we do it? We opt for crack, vodka, coke (a cola)- aka the rocker, the party animal, the player, the corporate douche, the little bit too metro-sexual- when we should be going for things like "herbal tea"- mr nice guy- which is supposedly good for us. But here's the problem, for me herbal tea is just so plain and boring! All it does is make me sleepy! Honestly, I really don't think I can date herbal tea... ( unless he's a yogi tea like the chili lime tea I had last night) with the perfect balance of sweet and spicy- AND yet still good for you! I mean, there has to be some in-between, and what classifies a guy as "herbal tea" anyway??? Can't he be a little exciting without being harmful? Its something we all battle with- and its easy for a therapist to just say "date herbal tea" but how do we make that transition from bad to good? Personally, I've had some interesting romances with plenty of guys or "things" that were not exactly good for me and they were always a bust but I, like so many others, never learn and go for one bad substance after another... For example I dated one guy who was the equivalent of Kool Aid- fruity and fun, bright and colorful, sweet, made me happy- but could not grow up into an adult ...and it also rots your teeth! Another guy I dated was like jagermeister- forever trapped in a college frat party and unable to commit to being anything but good with red bull. Another was like a Talisker 18- old, spicy, tight assed, and smelled like my grandpa, so I'm just as guilty as everyone else, but the question is, if you must give up all these "bad substances" is your only other option really just herbal tea??? How bleak! And how do you deem what is good and what is not anyway? I mean some things may not be "healthy" but they also may not be totally dangerous or toxic. You have to be able to have some excitement and fun... How about maybe kona coffee (strong and flavorful and only a little bit nutty) or perrier (it's classier than water, has a bit of flavor- my fav is the pink grapefuit- and has a little fizz to it) Or I'd love a fine red wine- caymus maybe or silver oak- single vineyard- its hand picked, rare, very special, good for your heart- and always goes well with a nice rare steak. Yes-I could handle that... So let's all go "shopping" this weekend and try something new this time- a mostly healthy balanced treat that's not addictive, doesn't make you gain 10 lbs, and makes you feel great every day! It definitely exists and if we're open to trying new things we all just might find something we like- or maybe even love- that is indeed just as good for you as "herbal tea". Take THAT Mr. Therapist :)

What is it "to fail" anyway?

The dictionary defines the word as this:

fail

   [feyl] Show IPA

verb (used without object)

1.

to fall short of success or achievement in somethingexpected, attempted, desired, or approved: The experimentfailed because of poor planning.

2.

to receive less than the passing grade or mark in anexamination, class, or course of study: He failed in history.

3.

to be or become deficient or lacking; be insufficient orabsent; fall short: Our supplies failed.

4.

to dwindle, pass, or die away: The flowers failed for lack of rain.

5.

to lose strength or vigor; become weak: His health failed afterthe operation.

Everyday I walk around NYC and I see things that inspire me- could be a person, an action... or a chalkboard sign with a note written on it! Today I saw this at my FAVORITE coffee spot around- THE MUD TRUCK parked near Astor Place, and I had to take a picture and share. The message struck me as both truthful and positive when I first saw it- and yet it inspired me later to think deeply... "what does it mean to fail anyway?" It seemed that growing up "fail" was such a painful, serious word- like you didn't pass a math test, or run a 10 min mile, or get the captain of the football team to ask you out- and it was DEVASTATING- but in real life as an adult "failure" is subjective and can only defined by one person- YOU. I like this statement because it is true- I can think of many times I tried something and it didn't work out- so I tried something else- and that didn't either- until I finally got it right, but I wish the word "fail" didn't carry so much negative weight or even exist at all. Sometimes we don't even want to try- for fear that that awful word "failure" might describe us- and it limits our potential completely. Life is all about trial and error- and sometimes we mistakes- but it shouldn't be all doom and gloom if something doesn't work out the first time, or even the second. It's true- it's ok to "fail" because without it- how are we supposed to learn! If we don't try- how is anyone ever supposed to get it right? We are NOT born knowing everything and we are not programmed to learn it all in an instant. Im certain without failure- none of our greatest inventors, writers or artists would ever have come to be. So for today- I am embracing failure- and like someone very smart once told me... "If you get an F- that's not F for Failure- it's F for Fabulous!" So much easier that way. It's amazing how much weight we give our words and how much it can hold us back. Starting now- I am no longer using the word "fail" or "failure" to describe me or anything around me- and I cant wait to see what happens... I might even find I am actually a FABULOUS skier or a FABULOUS artist or I make a FABULOUS roast chicken (dear God I hope so because I have one in my oven right now...) I challenge you to do the same- and see what changes in your life too. Hey it worked for Albert Einstein and Benjamin Franklin and they did pretty well...

Love Love Love SB

Can I get a refund Please?

Can I get a refund please? It's a phrase we use often when we are disappointed with what we have received- and most often the answer is “yes”. But what if that isn't always the case? What if there are some things we can’t take back when we’re not satisfied…

I had a dream recently, and it was so vivid I awoke from it in a panic- remembering every detail. It felt like someone was trying to tell me something and I got the message…

I was back in college with my old classmates and friends- and we were all working fervently on a project in a computer lab. We were struggling to get some sort of exam done- and just as we were about to finish victoriously- our professor called time early, and corralled us all into the elevator. We crammed in- each of us angry that we were unable to finish our papers right at the crucial moment of greatness, and confused as to why we were there. Suddenly the elevator dropped quickly, and we were all taken aback and frightened, but it stopped and was suspended in the air. We were alright. Then it plummeted again faster, only this time we knew it was bad. And we all screamed as we fell helplessly crammed in the tiny metal box. When the elevator hit the ground there was a flash of light and a sudden wave of heat that started to come up at our feet. I instantly knew this was bad, and had a sinking feeling we'd landed someplace we never intended to be. Although my classmates were baffled as to what was going on- I had a pretty good idea we were about to find ourselves in an unfamiliar and unwelcome place. The elevator doors opened, and we found ourselves in a bank sort of setting with teller windows and nothing else. The room was sterile, and there was nothing there but a few plastic windows with people behind them taking us one at a time. My friend Bob aggressively stepped up to the window, and after a period of "talking" there was a disgruntled argument that passed between Bob and the Teller. It was hard to hear the entire conversation, but phrases like "But I wasn't finished yet" and "I didn't get what I wanted or signed up for" and “that’s not fair- I want a refund!” came from Bob's angry mouth. We heard the teller calmly say "I'm sorry sir, but there are no refunds. Whether you finish it or not, you cannot get anything back when it's over and we are not responsible for that" We all stood in shock as reality set in, and we realized where we were and what had happened. We were taken before we were ready- and we hadn't been able to complete our wishes or goals. We felt empty and cheated. We hadn’t had a chance to accomplish any of our dreams- and we wanted to go back and do it over or at least finish it - but as the Teller told us again “I’m sorry but there are no refunds- it’s up to you how much you get done or out of it”. And in that horrifying moment, a feeling of panic and total despair set in as I went over what I hadn’t done in my mind…

And I woke up suddenly knowing this was no ordinary dream. It spoke to me on several levels, and reminded me of many desires and wishes I had been putting aside day after day after day.

How often are you working on a project and think “I'll finish it tomorrow” and you keep saying that every day until suddenly months go by and it’s still not done? I am way too guilty of that phrase- in fact I say it almost on a daily basis- and after that dream I decided that I wanted to change that. I realized I may not get a tomorrow- so what's the sense in waiting around for things to happen when I may run out of time? I waste a lot of time and energy worrying and fearing and calculating things when I should just be taking action and doing what it is that makes me happy- and I know I am not the only one. It’s a vicious cycle that has kept me trapped going in circles for years- and it’s time for that to end.

We never really know how much time we have- and isn’t it worth going for it now and being able to know that you’ve got nothing to be dissatisfied with, because in the end there are no refunds. You might as well get it while you have the chance…

What's your "flavor"?

Someone said to me recently- we are all like ice cream cones, and we should be licking ourselves to death with love and acceptance every day, and I really liked his point of view. I think he’s right. There are many different flavors of ice cream. All are unique and no one flavor is better than the other, but it is true that different flavors are enjoyed by different people because not everyone’s tastes are the same, and that is what makes life so beautiful. There may be someone who just doesn’t like Cherry Garcia but on the flip side, there will always someone who loves it. So no matter what flavor you are- you really can’t go wrong and you have no reason to wish you were anyone but yourself.

I remember as a kid my favorite flavor of ice cream was Baskin Robbins Daquiri Ice. It was limey, tangy- and named after my grandfather’s favorite drink! But now as an adult… I still love it! It’s a unique and different favorite and that’s exactly who I am as a person oddly enough…But I’m not writing this to voice my passion for Daquiri Ice- I’m writing this because this is something I struggled with my entire life and probably why I liked Derek’s analogy so much. Growing up, I was always wishing I was anybody but myself-another flavor of ice cream if you will- and picking on every little aspect of me I couldn’t change. And it made for not so happy feelings…

I grew up being called “Little kozlowski” not only because I was the younger sibling of a major sister rivalry (I’m sure other little sisters can understand)- but because I was….short- and man was I mad. My sister had lucked out and grew to be a stunning, modelesque 5’8” and I was so envious that I was as green as Kermit, and I spent years literally berating myself for being a midget (as I referred to myself). It was so unfair, and it became my mission in life to find a way, any way possible, to grow 5 inches after puberty- and little did I know it was a waste of time and energy because that is welll… just plain impossible.

I was willing to try anything- put me on a stretching machine, hang me upside down with cans of paint hanging from my head, have extra vertebrae inserted in my spine- whatever it took to be as tall as “big kozlowski”- but we all know none of this works- or even exists- so sadly I was shit out of luck and more than a little bitter towards the gods of height who had cursed me to being a dwarf.

It took me a long time, but finally after many years of this passionate and arduous search for 5 inches- I realized that I am stuck at this measly 5’3” and I’d better make the best of it and rock it out as I am, because like it or not- this is one thing I cannot change and it feels really good. Now I don’t talk about my height- positive or negative- and people don’t even notice because it’s the last thing on my mind- or theirs. People even think I’m taller than I am because of how I present myself- and one guy even described me as “BAM” which surely isn’t a bad thing… I’ve truly come to love my little stature and see the positives to being vertically challenged ( all you tall people don’t go getting jealous) For example you can wear really really high heels and not look like an ogre, you can fit in small spaces like the last row of an airplane and subway seats made for children, and You’ll never block anyone at the theatre (unless you have really REALLY big hair… )

So after a long and bumpy road of jealously lusting after all those long legs and lean torsos- I’ve come to love my “flavor” and wouldn’t want to be anything else but me. Sometimes in life there are things about ourselves we cannot change- and we just have to get over it, because if we don’t we’ll spend our whole lives missing out on the blessings and joy of who we are meant to be. Chocolate will never be vanilla and Rocky Road will never be Black Cherry- so stop trying to be something you’re not and just enjoy who you are. Rather than trying to figure out what flavor someone wants- just be the flavor you are- and the right person, place or thing will come along. It’s so much simpler in the end and makes life a whole lot more delicious. So let’s get licking!