Meh.

Life's complicated. Love is worse. Something that was once two people meeting and having a connection has turned into a series of auditions that make me more nervous than any play in which I have ever tried to get a part. As an improviser, I have the utmost faith in my ability to get on a stage and make stuff up in order to entertain people. But get me in front of a strange audience of one male or on the phone for more than 5 minutes with a male I have yet to meet and I turn into a mush-mouthed mental 12 year old.

You know you've been single too long when your best friend's mom is trying to set you up with guys. My very best friend, Jen, knew a guy when she was 12 years old who still lives around town and works at a restaurant where her mom, Corinne, frequently dines. She loves this man. So much so that when he complained that he was just looking for a nice girl to settle down with, a light bulb went off over her head and she thought, "Lauren!" A slightly convoluted meet cute occurred. Corinne got Jen to send her a photo of me, he saw it, liked it, gave his number to Corinne, who gave it to Jen, who texted him my number after asking me permission to do so. See? Convoluted.

He called me last night while I was in my writer's meeting, and left a nervous sounding voicemail. I called back, and in the midst of leaving a message actually said, "I'm sorry I missed your call. I was presenting at a writer's meeting at the library...yeah, fun stuff. Anyway!!" Doh. I received another vm today, while at work, telling me he had to be at work at 5, which is when I get out of work. Not looking too good on the communication side, but Jen vouches for the guy and one date won't hurt. We keep missing each other on the old phone, but I'll keep trying. You never know who you're going to meet and why. This guy may be my new best friend. Who knows? Not me.

I do know I'm starting to get tired of this area. Not only because the available men have the mental acuity of a pre-teen. There is just too much history here and too many connections with people whom I would rather never see again. I've been seriously thinking about moving to L.A. in November, riding the waves of the Comic Convention season out there and just seeing where Bailee and I can go with our web comic and our general comedy shenanigans. I feel as if she and I are destined to do something bigger together...maybe I'm just re-directing the general need for a soul mate to one of a creative partner and kindred spirit. All I know is that she makes me feel like I am funny and it's been a long time since I felt that. I have things that I need to do before then, like produce another Jiggles and Giggles. But it's about time to actually start that "living like there's no tomorrow" thing that all the country singers like to sing about.

It's time for a change. I've already changed myself enough...now I just need to change the world.

Life is ridiculously funny.

It's been a strange couple of months. I've been on some dates and gotten booked to speak at a comic book convention, and gotten into some hijinks and shenanigans. This blog will be a free for all to really detail some of the things that are going on in the Guarded Area.

The dating front. It is hard out there, people! The moment you feel a connection with someone, a shinier minnow comes their way and they are gone. It's good that people are so ADD because if genuine affection was actually created, there would be tons more heartache than there currently has been/is in my life. I have a date lined up this weekend. I planned it. We're going putt putt golfing. I couldn't stand the idea of sitting down in a coffee shop and making awkward conversation. We'll see how it goes. The guy enjoys the fact that I use Simpson-isms when I speak. Plus one.

On the negative side of dating, there are the absolutely ridiculous things that people say and do when they are on an online dating site. I have actually been guilt tripped by people for not writing them back immediately. The expectation is that if you are on an online dating service that is all your life is about. Finding the one. Sorry, I have a job, friends, family and a creative life that keeps me distracted. These guys also don't know how to market themselves to women of quality. I got a message from a man today who's screen name is Lovesblackpuss. Sorry, sir. You will not be hearing back from me. I'm not even sure why you messaged me, to be honest.

If this weekends date goes poorly, I will probably be removing myself from all sites. The pressure and judgments on who you are in 500 words or less and based on the images you carefully pick to represent the real you is a little overwhelming. If only I had stayed with my high school boyfriend and popped out a couple of kids at the get-go, I might have missed out on this stress-fest. Regardless, the time has come to focus more on my career.

I recently interviewed for a part time teaching position at a Christian school, teaching drama to 7th and 8th graders 4 hours a week. If I get it, my boss at Ironhorse has said that I could change my schedule to do both things. I am incredibly blessed to be able to do what I love and also have a career that pays the bills. Stating that...

Bailee and I are doing the web comic thing, and it is going incredibly well. We're still looking into how to market it better, but we've been invited to speak at a comic book convention Comikaze Expo in LA in November by a lady who thinks our comic rocks. Comediva is stupendously supportive, and we may be writing a whole series of articles about our upcoming trip to Comic-Con in July, which we will be attending as nerds.

The only downfall is that while I am extremely excited about this and the potential it has to be great, there are still and always will be people in my life who are more logical, who believe that the trip is a boondoggle (a Kirk Pottinger term.) It's really hard when you are excited about something and the people who are closest to you nay-say. I've always been a pretty sensitive soul, and it completely sucks to be so excited about something only to have the negative creep in to taint it. It's a constant source of stress and though I'll deal, it's just how I'm feeling today. My family is constantly supportive of my creative endeavors, and for that I am grateful...I just need to be making more money at it for it to mean anything solid. It'll happen. I'm putting that out there. Thoughts become things.

Stay tuned for a separate blog about my recent visit to the set of Burn Notice!!

Hubris...aka A Lesson Learned.

There's something called hubris. I experienced it today, and I'm comfortable enough to tell you about it.

I had a show last night. It was called The Jiggles and Giggles Comedy Fest. I may have mentioned it once or twice. It was an idea birthed in January, and brought to fruition last night from 7pm-9pm. Or more like 7:15pm-9:30pm. We had so many people show up at the door to buy tickets we held for 15 minutes. After all 97 of them bought their concessions and bid on silent auction items set up by the lovely Wendy Pottinger, and after a two hour show of improv, sketch and stand up (as well as musical comedy and dance all by some of the best friends a girl could have), we had made $1900 for Gilda's Club of South Florida. We had a fun after show at the Brass Ring Pub, and I slept well knowing it was over and that people enjoyed themselves. Win.

Today I headed to Stuart to see some friends in a show. My friend Nathan and I got so turned around we missed the curtain. But we had fun regardless, and even ended up lost near a chocolate shop and got some candy. Yay. Win.

It's Easter, and my brother and his girlfriend came up for dinner. We always have fun as a family, and tonight was no exception. Lasagna, manicotti (we're not Italian), angel food cake and my fabulous family. You can't beat it. Win.

Then I got ready for a date. We were meeting in Delray, and I put on a strapless flowered dress, red flats, a sweater and headed for the door. It began to rain, but my awesome sister escorted me out and I did not get soaked. I drove through the torrential downpour and made it to the date about 2 minutes late. We had fun. We mocked each other. We laughed. We used big words and drank adult beverages. He is a psychology professor, and seemed genuinely interested in me, and not as a patient. We kissed, and it was awkward but had potential. He berated me for parking too far from the restaurant. It was sweet, and a great way to end the weekend. Win! *

I pulled up to the gate of my neighborhood feeling pretty smug. I was feeling invincible. Confident. I am a producer now. I make things interesting wherever I go. My poo does not stink. The world is my oyster.

I rolled down the window to type in the code for the gate, and as I did, the sprinklers came on. Reclaimed water that smelled like rotten eggs started shooting out of the ground, directly into my car and subsequently onto my face, hair, and clothes. A little got in my mouth. As I blindly typed in the code, I pulled away from the geyser that had just drenched me. I glimpsed my visage in the rear view mirror, and started to laugh. Mascara was smeared under my eyes, my hair was half plastered to my head, and I smelled like an Easter Egg that was lost in the hunt and discovered a month later.

Hubris. I'd like to thank whoever is up there for that little reminder that you can never be too humble, even when things are going really well. I sorely needed it. I promise myself and everyone who knows me that it will never, ever happen again.

* After 3 dates, this "gentleman" broke things off over e-mail, saying he wanted to be friends while also stating that he hoped I had a nice life. Jack.

Online dating gems...

Subject line of an e-mail:
Renascence Woman

Lauren's response: If you don't know how to spell a word, either a) don't use it or b) google it and see how it is spelled.

2nd Subject Line of an E-mail:
Stop working and start having fun

Lauren's response: Stop telling me what to do. We aren't even dating yet!

3rd Subject Line of an E-mail: Hi
Body of E-mail: Hello

Lauren's response: Yeesh. Really original and spellbinding. Keep up the good work with the creativity and allure.

E-mail Message: U Seem Kinda Cute

Lauren's response: You seem like a douchebag. Maybe your first mistake is using the words kinda and cute to describe someone you might try to date.

E-mail Message from 62 year old man: You are very sexy-looking.

Lauren's response: You are very old looking, probably have grandkids and smell like Aspercreme and Brut. No thanks.

Actual sentence from a guys profile:
My perfect match must know herself, where she came from and where she is going. She should be confident but not too independent.

Lauren's response:What is too independent? What is confident but not too independent? I am so confused. And feeling unconfident and dependent!

Stay tuned as I am sure there will be plenty more where that came from!!

I wore heels for this?!?!?!

I have a pair of fabulous high heels. They are purple and sparkly with high, thin heels. They make me feel like a rock star when I wear them, though my ankles tend to feel slightly weak and sore a day or two after I wear them. Last night I pulled them out of the closet for a date that I thought looked promising. It was not.

*Not my actual foot.

It's not that it was a horrible date. We went to dinner at Brewzii and caught Michael McDonald at the Improv for free. The format of the date was sound. However, when someone of the opposite sex admits (halfway through the date) that they could have lined up an out phone call with a friend, it kind of puts a damper on things. When they further admit that they experimented with every drug out there and ended up in Florida to go to rehab, that's an even bigger red flag. And when, after 3 and a half hours of conversation and 2 hilarious stand-ups, your date says the highlight of his evening was watching the manager of the Improv chase a guy who walked out on his bill, you pretty much know you've seen the last of this particular gentleman.

After a goodbye that consisted of "See ya" as he pulled out his cell phone and walked away, I wandered in the direction of my car, thinking to myself that I was leaving yet another bomb of a date, about to pay $9 for parking, walking in the painful yet hot shoes that I had chosen to go with a lavender silk shirt and jeans for this particular debacle. I decided I was not going to slink home with my tail between my aching legs, and made my way to the gelato shop at City Place. The adorable 18 year old boy working the counter scooped me some double chocolate gelato and as I paid in cash, he said,"We always appreciate singles at this hour." I said, "It's that obvious that I'm single and just had a bad date?" Confused, the young man handed me my change and said, "I meant the dollar bills." I grabbed the chocolatey goodness and ran. My sore tootsies directed me towards Barnes and Noble, where I grabbed Tina Fey's new book, thinking that my dating woes would help me be more inspired in my professional life.

As I checked out and wandered towards my car, I realized that this was all I needed. A good book, chocolate anything, and good friends to text when my evening didn't go as planned. I'm sure there is someone out there for me. Maybe not on PlentyOfCreeps.com. As my best friend said, it may be time for me to take a break so that Mr. Right can fall into my lap. I'll have to move Bossypants, the show that I'm producing, the web comic I'm writing, and a whole host of other things out of the way to make room for him.

Online Dating

Everyone has their own stories about online dating. Some are horrific. Some are adorable. Some are downright pornographic. I have been off an on all of the wonderful sites over the past several years, searching in vain for that special someone that I can make a cheesy, "We met and flowers exploded out of every orifice and unicorns cried," commercial with, to no avail. I have made decisions about whether or not to date a man based on even the smallest details on their profiles. Too young, too old, too buff, too annoying. As an experienced online dater, I would love to give tips to anyone thinking about breaching the annoyance and delight that is Plentyofmatchemistry.com's.

1. The one armed cell phone photo in the mirror is NOT CUTE. It makes me think you have no friends and don't ever go outside of your house. Also, the photo of you with a woman's head cut out of it? I'm sure this is not the end all be all of photos of you, and you should probably not indicate to me that you are a psycho who cuts his exes out of photos.

2. LOL, BRB, C U L8ER...not cute. If I wanted to text speak with you, I would give you my phone number. These are e-mails with no character limitations. Take the time to give details about yourself. Write full words. Don't use slang unless you want to seem like an uneducated toolbox. Also, learn the difference between your, you're, their, there, and they're. But that's for everyone on the planet.

3. If you are more than ten years older than I am, and you see on my profile that I am looking for men within a certain age range, don't message me. I got a Plentyoffish message from a 60 year old. I'm sorry, but I am looking for a mate and potential father of my children, not a sugar daddy. There are women out there with integrity.

4. If you list going to the gym and drinking as hobbies, move along. These are not hobbies. Hobbies are building miniature ships and putting them in bottles, or collecting Playboys. Alcoholics who drink six packs and have six pack abs may seem attractive, but not to quality women who have brains.

5. If you want to meet me after a couple of e-mails, make the decision. I don't want to have to go back and forth and try to figure out what you would like to do. I want to get to know you, so plan that first outing. I am old fashioned enough to believe that the boy should do the asking. Grow a pair.

6. If, for some reason, we do decide to meet, don't change your mind 15 times about the location. Chances are good I have taken a lot of time and energy to adapt my ensemble to the locale, so having to change 20 times makes me cranky. (This happened once. An hour before the date I got a message that he would be late. 45 minutes before I got a message that he couldn't contact the cute, indie coffee shop I'd selected for our meet up. We decided on Starbucks. As I drove there, he messaged saying he wanted to go to a fancy, popular restaurant instead. Ungh.) Oh, and SHOW UP!

7. If we are texting, please do not send me photos. I've seen your photos on the web, and certainly don't need to know what your workplace , your cat Jingles, your room at your parents house, or any other aspect of your life looks like. We haven't even met yet. And please, please...no shirtless, one armed shots. (I felt a need to re-iterate.)

Everyone out there is trying to find the one, and yes, this list may make me seem as if I am high maintenance. I just want to meet someone who is respectful, well read, decent to people, smart, and somewhat attractive to me. Is that too much to ask?!?!?!

Maybe it is. Harrumph.

Romantic Comedy...or my life?

My faith in humanity and men in general has been redeemed fully, and it's all because of a British man named Dave. I don't even know his last name.

I was supposed to go to dinner after a high school production of Hairspray with my friends, Maria and David. This quiet British gentleman had been quietly pursuing me via international texting after our profiles connected us on Plentyoffish.com. The evening before I had been painting at a BYOB art studio with my wonderful, amazing girlfriends, and could not meet up with him. I received a text query about meeting up on Sunday evening, and I was sweaty, broken out, and inappropriately attired. I was about to turn him down when a thought occurred to me. I am always so ready to go out and try new things when it comes to my friends, but what about my life and the potential Mr. Right that this lovely man could be? So, I looked at Maria in my passenger seat and said, "I'll drop you off. I'm going to meet him."

I texted that I would meet him in 45 minutes at CityPlace, where I had just had a non-alcoholic beverage with Maria and our friend Susan. I ran into my house, apologized to my parents for being gone all day and making even more plans to be away from my dirty room and piles of laundry, and tore through getting ready. I put on a lacy, girly dress with cowboy boots and chunky pink jewelry, and raced to CityPlace. I told him to meet me at the fountain.

There are 5 fountains at CityPlace.

He texted that he was at the one by the theater. I ran to Muvico, and there was no one there. Worried he had fled upon seeing me arrive, I lingered, until EPIPHANY! The Harriet Himmel Theater has a fountain in front of it. Feeling as if I was in a movie, I ran down the stairs, crossed the street...and there he was, illuminated by the twinkling lights and cascading water. He's about my height, handsome and put together, and the accent...the accent was lovely. As I approached he smiled at me and said, "You look absolutely stunning." Melt.

We proceeded to Brewzzi for dinner, and had a conversation ranging from performing arts, emotional concert reactions (my Bryan Adams sobbing came up), and religion. We had so many things in common it was startling. He studied theater and dance as a child and went into producing music for a while. His dog's name is Cassie...the main character from my graphic novel is named Cassie. He was respectful and excited about every word that was coming out of my mouth, and I was hanging on every sentence, laughing at all his jokes. We talked and chatted, and decided we did not want the night to end there. We walked and stopped by my car. I played a fun game of "Which car is mine?" where he proceeded to freak out that I owned a Mini Cooper. I dropped off my leftovers from dinner, and we walked from CityPlace down to Clematis under twinkly lights and tree limbs. We stopped at the corner of Clematis and Rosemary, and sat at a fountain with a giant globe sculpture, and just talked for an hour. He then walked me to my car and as we were exchanging pleasantries and saying goodbye, he gave me a peck on the lips in farewell. I gave him a hug, and he grabbed my face and kissed me again. And again. It was sweet, romantic and amazing. As he began to walk towards his car, he turned and said, "Thank you so very much for the lovely evening."

This morning I woke up to a text message. "Good morning, Lauren. Thank you again for a lovely evening. X."

Too bad he's going to Dusseldorf for 3 weeks. But it was, to quote my new favorite Brit, a lovely evening. Just lovely.*

*As an update for this post: The Englishman has been sent by work back to his native land, and will not return for at least a month, at which point he will pack his belongings and go back to the UK. At least we had a wonderful time together, and I now have an e-mail pen pal.

Crappy Holidays!

I am not a Scrooge. I am not a Grinch. I am a new type of holiday Villain. My name is the SATYOWATWTOYTH. It's a little long, but stands for Single Almost Thirty Year Old Woman At The Worst Time of Year, The Holidays. I wear high heels every day. I put on make-up every morning. I make myself presentable to the world at every moment of every day as everyone I know tells me I am most likely to meet the love of my life at the least suspected moment. And God forbid that moment arrives and I have no eye liner on. And during the holidays, these efforts are for naught.

It's the time of year that is the worst (barring Valentine's Day which is a crock of s&*t anyway) for people in my situation. A time when jewelry companies advertise that bauble that says to the world, "I love this person!" When visions of romance and family life are at an all time maximum on television, billboards, and newspaper advertisements. When the childless feel the ticking of the biological clock, and the loveless feel the ache of a heart devoid of romantic love. Family and friends abound, but there is still always the feeling of being the odd one out.

Not only is it rough because of the love that abounds during the season, but which always seems to elude you...it's also a time of year when a single person's bank account is stretched to within an inch of it's life. I know everyone gets hit hard during the holidays, buying gifts and food and all the accoutrement that accompany a typical happy Holiday. But with one income, things seem a little tighter. I have started getting all of my couple friends gifts that will work for both, so I don't spend as much on the individual gifts. The gift exchange amongst my family members helps a lot, but I always feel a need to get everyone a little something. Luckily, for now I live with my parents so it's pretty easy to budget accordingly. But it's still terrifying to buy gifts when one is used to only spending on the necessities.

So, no Bah Humbug. No dog with reindeer antlers pulling a sleigh. Just a single lady looking forward to a lot of eggnog and Christmas cookies.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Only Lauren sat stirring, clicking her mouse;

With foam curlers tied all up in her hair,

In hopes that some fullness soon would be there;

The family was all nestled so snug in their beds,

While gifts for their sweethearts danced in their heads;

I sat at my desk, portable computer on my lap

And couldn't sleep after my afternoon nap,

The ticking of keystrokes created such a clatter,

But there was no one awake to ask "what's the matter?"

Minimizing the windows, I updated my flash,

Grabbed some holiday candy from my well hidden stash.

Images from up North of new-fallen snow

I clicked between all the windows below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But an ad for a dating site, for me to find someone dear,

The process was easy, designed to find someone quick,

I clicked on a profile for someone named Nick.

More rapid than eagles a reply quickly came,

And I whistled, and shouted, and told him my name;

"Now, I want you to know, I'm not always a vixen!

But time is running short, and I need a date with all the fixin's!"

To the New Year's Eve gala! to the dropping of the ball!

Now kiss away! kiss away! kiss away all!"

As dry spells that before the wild hurricanes fly,

My hopes they rocketed straight toward the sky,

So into my closet to choose an outfit I flew,

With the dress from Franchesca's and my black pumps too.

I then attempted to remain aloof

As I gazed out my window, across to the roof.

I spied a man there, with his sled upon the ground

Through the front door, Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his toe,

He must have been boiling, without any snow;

Flowers behind his back he’d chosen to stick,

Though he looked nothing like his profile pic.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

Though smoking's a no-no and he set fire to our wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

I would have started working out, if I'd gained all that myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon confirmed what I had come to dread;

This online relationship just wouldn’t work,

Because I could tell that this St. Nick was truly a jerk,

And laying his finger inside of his nose,

Digging for gold, I really suppose;

He sprang to his car, and he gave me a whistle,

And away he flew, his car like a missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."