Who Should Pay On the First Date?

If you're a woman, Dating Coach Ronnie Ann Ryan says it shouldn't be you. Click here for her free report and find out why.

A reader has taken me to task for suggesting that checking a guy's cell phone for evidence he's been talking to other women is unattractive. She made some excellent points that I'm thinking over seriously.

While the women I'd referred to routinely surveilled innocent boyfriends, this reader had serious grounds to believe her fellow was cheating. She checked his cell phone and found that he had indeed text messaged another woman about "getting together."

She followed her instincts, and that's a good thing. She did what she had to do.

But I think we can fairly set her apart from women (and men) who suffer from the kind of insecurity that compels them--without sufficient cause-- to check up on good, devoted, true loves and ultimately drive them away.

The Law of Attraction Nets Me a Falafel

The Amazing V. and I set out for a neighboring town to India Raj for lunch. (All morning, I got a warm, happy feeling in my stomach whenever I remembered I'd soon be filling with vegetable vindaloo.)

We arrived at India Raj at 3:07, only to learn that they'd closed at 3 and wouldn't reopen until dinner. Dejected, we headed back for her minivan and stuffed the children back in. The warm feeling in my stomach was replaced with a cold loneliness.

"We could try that other Indian place in Newtown," V. suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that," I said, even though the food didn't taste as good as India Raj's. It also cost more.

"Let's go for pizza," shouted a little voice from the back.

But I wasn't in the mood for pizza, not Connecticut pizza, anyway.

Valerie drove on, and as we passed the beautiful old stone houses and lattice-balconied stores and the mossy ponds with the tree branches coming straight up out of them, I kept thinking, "Wow. I am just so lucky to live here. It is the most beautiful place on earth."

I said to the Amazing V., "You know, I really could go for falafel. I haven't had a falafel since I moved here four-and-a-half years ago."

"Yeah," she said. "But you can't get falafel in Connecticut, unless you count that dried-out thing we had in downtown Shelton."

She hung a left into the parking lot of the Newtown Indian place. The sign on the door revealed that it, like the other, was closed and would not reopen until dinner.

"What's with these people?" she asked.

And then we saw it: Across the street stood a little hole-in-the-wall Greek market.

"Check it out," I said. "Greek food! Do you think they have falafel?"

(Although the state of Connecticut is home to many Greek diners, I have yet to find one that serves falafel. But I was feeling lucky.)

"Let's try it," said V.

We popped out of the van and into the store. A strapping Greek man came toward us.

"Do you have falafel?" I asked him.

"Yes, I have falafel. How many you want?"

At this point, we rounded up the children and seated them at tables in the back.

"I have a funny story to tell you," I told the owner, as he brought out our orders. Then I told him of my desperation for a decent falafel since I moved here.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"New York."

"I used to live in New York when I came to this country. Where did you live?"

"Flushing."

"Where?"

"Near Northern Boulevard."

"Where?"

"172nd Street."

"I know it. I used to work at the Saravan Diner."

"Get out! It's impossible to get falafel in Connecticut, you know."

"Yeah," he said. "Everyone here wants hamburger, cheeseburger, fish fry."

Before I left, I ordered a gyro to go for Peter. When he and I were dating, we used to eat them at a Greek place in Flushing near his apartment.

Some people will insist that my falafel acquisition moments after uttering the words, "I could really go for falafel," is coincidence.

But the Amazing V. and I do not think so.

Not Every Man Wants to Be Jack Nicholson

At a barbecue, the subject came up that a recently-purchased house in the neighborhood is up for sale again.

"I wonder what happened," I said.

"The guy left his wife for a 23-year-old girl," the hostess remarked.

"Are you kidding?" asked a 44-year-old fellow dipping into a bowl of Doritos. "How old is he?"

"I don't know," the hostess replied. "Forty-seven, I think."

"What an idiot!" the guy shouted. "Hey, Paul, did you hear that the guy in the white house left his wife for a 23-year-old?"

"I heard," Paul replied. "What an IDIOT!"

Later, I told Peter the story.

His reponse?

"What a moron. What's he going to talk about with a 23-year-old?"

Contrary to what the box in the living room tells us, not every guy wants to be Jack Nicholson or Michael Douglas (I still haven't figured out what Catherine Zeta Jones sees in that guy. His rump wobbled way back in Basic Instinct).

Checking a Guy's Cell Phone For Evidence of Other Women

Peter hoped to go to Paul Newman's restaurant on Saturday night, but I figured the place would be jammed with theater-goers (the Westport Country Playhouse is located next door), so we went to our favorite Mexican haunt instead. I was happy to go someplace dark and familiar.

Instead of going to see Sicko, we ended up in Trader Joe's (we love Trader Joe's!). When we were first married, we used to go to the supermarket together, and we enjoyed being able to do it again without offspring arguing with us to buy things we don't want.

On the way home, we got caught in a flood on Route 34. Water gushed up to the doors of our car. I don't think I've ever been on the road in such conditions. Pretty scary, but we came out of it okay. A lot of other people had to pull over and fiddle around under their hoods.

During all this, Peter told me that two guys he works with are dealing with girlfriends who routinely check their cell phones for evidence of communication with other women. I have news for you; the day I feel compelled to check Peter's cell phone is the day I die. And the day I find him checking mine is the day he dies.

It's harrassment. It's surveillance. It's unattractive.

If a guy cheats (or has given a woman reason to think he has), isn't she better off discussing it and feeling him out? Sure, he might lie to her, but then he's only confirmed the fact that it's time for her to hit the highway.

As for the guys whose girlfriends are surveilling them, both asked Peter's advice.

"Are you cheating?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," came the replies.

"Do you like coming home and getting the third degree about Betty from Payroll's number being in your cell phone?"

"Not really."

"Well," Peter said. "These situations don't usually improve with time. You might want to rethink the relationship."

Date Night Tonight

We regained access to our money, so Peter and I will go out by ourselves for dinner tonight. Perhaps we'll see Sicko, too.

Maybe we'll call another couple to join us. Then again, maybe we won't.

I spent the morning watching the old Andrew McCarthy/Kevin Dillon movie, Heaven Help Us, which pretty much sums up my experience at Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament in Bayside. Spoke to my old classmate, Karen, yesterday on the phone for almost two hours. We met in Blessed Sacrament in 3rd grade and have been friends ever since.

Must recommend Heaven Help Us to her. I imagine she'll find it cathartic.

Both Andrew McCarthy and Kevin Dillon were fabulous in that movie, by the way. McCarthy made you feel exactly what the character felt, and around Eighth Grade I knew boys just like Kevin Dillon's character. These days, Dillon blows me away as Johnny Drama on Entourage. He and Jeremy Piven's Ari Gold are my favorite characters (although I like Kevin Connolly as the show's moral compass, E,, too).

It's too bad Andrew McCarthy has fallen out of the limelight. I saw him on 20/20 a couple of years ago, where he explained that much of the widely lauded performance he gave in Pretty In Pink benefited from the pain of a wicked hangover.

I hoped to post Stephen Colbert's response to Pope Benedict's disturbing claim that only Catholics are on the path to salvation (I hang around with a lot of non-Catholics), but I cannot seem to dig it up. By the accounts I've read, Colbert is a much better Catholic than I am.

His take on Benedict's comments were priceless.

(Note: A quick Google search directed me to McCarthy's website. Apparently, he's keeping busy, which is great news as far as I'm concerned.)

Who Wears the Pants In Your Relationship?

I loathe that expression, but I did like The Today Show's encouraging report about power in relationships this morning. Guests Helen Fisher and Ian Kerner made some brilliant points.

Click here to check it out.

The Letter Nobody Wants to Receive

I received notice in Wednesday's mail that I am among the souls whose personal data was stolen from a company that verifies debit card purchases.

After breathing myself through a panic attack, I notified the major credit agencies (actually, I notified one, who says they'll notify the other two as a matter of course).

Went to the bank yesterday, where the lovely woman on the platform advised me to clear my checking account of all funds, less enough to cover uncleared checks. We opened a new account, but while everything is in transition, I don't have access to my money.

Which means that, instead of going out to dinner tonight as we planned, we stayed home. We could've used a credit card, but I'm just not into it.

So, I cooked.

Magically, a friend showed up with a bunch of basil from her garden, and I started putting together a sauce in my head. Then I remembered the zucchini that another neighbor gave us from her garden Sunday.

I sauteed onion and garlic, added tomatoes, and then the zucchini and basil. I set them on a low heat for hours. Because Peter cannot live without meat (the rest of us can), I slowly cooked the sweet sausage I bought at Stop and Shop on Monday to tender perfection. Then I added them to his portion of the sauce.

I served it on angel hair. With freshly grated parmagian, the dish turned out quite well. I didn't miss spending $100 on dinner out one bit.

There's something freeing about not spending money, at least temporarily.

I lucked out on a couple of counts:

-Our mortgage payment had been safely deducted from our account the day we got notice of the security breach

-Nobody took any of our money

-I had enough food in the house.

I guess I'll find out in time if some idiot took out a loan or opened a credit card account in my name. Say a prayer, will you?

Law of Attraction and Aging

I love the following article by Jeannette Maw about how she uses her mind to stay young. It's the very subject I addressed in a post on my last birthday. (Click here to read that one.) Yeah, I know death is inevitable, but my goal is to put it off as long as possible.

"You're not getting any younger, you know."

Ahem.

These words probably make the top ten list of "How to Spoil Sunday With Your Girlfriend."

I said to Russ, "Look, these are words you should never say to ANY woman you want to sleep with, let alone the one who doesn't believe in aging."

"You don't believe in aging?" He said it more than asked it. Like he was confirming just how crazy his girlfriend was.

"Well, I'm trying NOT to. That's my point. Hearing it from you doesn't help. I want to escape that old mentality. I want to grow younger and get healthier and better looking every day."

"'Old mentality,'" he repeats. "Honey, aging is a fact." (As if I were an eight year old that he was breaking the news to about the Tooth Fairy.) "It's what happens. You can't stop it. You can't stop time."

Well, with any hope of a friendly romantic encounter shot to smithereens, I let him have it.

"All right, let's go over this again." And I ran him through the principles of deliberate creation a-frickin-gain. We get what we think about. There are no rules out there. There are no limitations. If we can imagine it, we can have it. There isn't any reason we should be aging, other than that the whole of society has bought into it, and I'm opting out.

"You're opting out of aging," he says, not even trying to mask the laughter in his voice.

"Yeah, I am. And I guarantee I'm not doing it so I can hang out with some decrepit old guy, so I would rethink my position on this, if I were you."

I tell him I'm not the only one thinking this. That others are on board with this same idea. LOTS of others. I don't know how many, but I know I'm not alone. I've been trained by one of them. (Ron Zeller, who is a stand for ageless living. His wife, who is known as Ninja Grandma. Not to mention all the yogis who are known for good health in the upper echelons of birthdays.)

And while I'm telling him that, I'm thinking of the enormous vibrational escrow of all those people all those years who desperately wanted good health and great looks in their later years. Oh yeah, I'm tapping into THAT party!

So, Russ agrees not to argue with my beliefs, and swears I will never again hear him say, "You're not getting any younger."

As he's making breakfast (making fun of my brown $4 cage-free eggs and rice milk), I find two emails in my in-box related to law of attraction and aging. Or anti-aging, I should say. Thank you, Universe, for backing me up!

I march out of the office with news of the two articles that were waiting for me this morning. "I am not alone," I repeat to him with conviction.

"That's nice, honey." He's clearly made peace with having a crazy girlfriend.

And I'm gearing up for making peace with having a 30 year old boyfriend in my last years of life. Maybe he could have an accent, too. Olive skin. Gorgeous smile. (We'll see who has the last laugh, Mr. Smart Guy.)

Just to nail this vibration down, I'm thinking about turning 27 this year. I've turned 27 a couple of times now, and have enjoyed it every time. It's a good year. I thought about earlier twenties, but they seemed a little shallow. 30's seemed a little heavier. So I'm going with carefree, optimistic, fabulously healthy and fit, got-my-whole-life-ahead-of-me 27.

I really really like my girlfriend's girlfriend who doesn't know how old she is (really, she doesn't know! She doesn't keep track!), and my former coach who would flat out lie (and feel great about it) when someone asked her age. I'm letting go of what it "means" to age as well. It doesn't mean anything; it's not who I am; and I just get better with every day that passes.

That's what I'm manifesting with the law of attraction. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. Because I know it's possible. And I pick it. Period.

Yes, it might feel like a stretch today, but as I spend more time with it, and more time with articles and people lined up with it, it'll become more and more mine. Watch me go!

Broken Hearted? Don't Give Up On Your Miracle

Viveca Stone-Berry suffered a devastating break-up at the age of 41. Her article details the steps she took to get over it, move on, and marry a man who makes her happy.

Click here to read it.

The Confidence You Need

You show up for a date looking smashing and feeling grand. Then some creep brushes past and gives you one of those, "Who do you think you are?" looks. Or you prepare to interview for the job of your dreams and somebody mutters, "You know, you have to be really good to get a position like that."

Instead of feeling foolish, crestfallen, and ready to call it a night, take this quote from Mary and Heather of MomsTown to heart:

"We once had a very powerful and important and influential person tell us that if people asked why he was important, he'd say 'Because I said so.' At first those very impressive words impressed us. But now we realize we're only important because we say so. Same goes for you. It's not because of what someone else says or believes. It's about what you say and believe. We want you to feel and say, 'I'm important because I say so.' Enough said."

If you don't know Mary and Heather, they're entrepreneurs who help women realize their dreams and achieve prosperity. You can tune into their weekly show on Hay House Radio.

Age of Love and Rock of Love Continue to Scare Me

Yes, I know I watch too much TV, and I don't even watch decent TV (although, once in a while, I do get a kick out of The British House of Commons on C-SPAN).

Last night and the night before, I joined the rest of the lowest common denominator in tuning in to two pathetic programs, NBC's Age of Love, and VH1's Rock of Love. Both shows feature a parade of surgically-enhanced females who compete for the affection of a substandard male. In the case of Age of Love, it's a slutty and confused 30-year-old named Mark. Rock of Love stars Bret Michaels, the slutty and no-longer-relevant frontman of a 1980s hair band.

I'm not sure which show is more revolting. On Rock of Love Sunday night, women lined up for their turn to engage in phone sex with Bret, who'd been hooked up to a device which measured his arousal level (yes, it is what you're thinking).

Last night on Age, Mark enjoyed a little tongue action (filmed way too close for comfort; thank God I don't have HDTV) with a person named Amanda, directly after a snuggle with a person named Jayanna (I don't know what kind of a name that is).

It's downright gross watching this guy move from woman to woman like some kind of farm animal. I know it's "reality TV" and, therefore, mostly fake, but check the show recap. Plenty of viewers are buying it, not to mention the sorry stereotypes the show reinforces.

Great Law of Attraction Resource

When I have time, I like to listen to Summer McStravick's Flowdreaming show on Hay House Radio. Just having it on in the background makes my day go better.

During the show, Summer offers a guided meditation to help you "get into the flow" to achieve whatever it is you want in life. Check the archives for the topic that interests you (money, relationships, and so on). You can listen when it's convenient.

The Hay House stable boasts several other interesting hosts, including Dr. Wayne Dyer, Caroline Myss, and Louise Hay herself (if you haven't read Louise Hay's You Can Heal Your Life, try it. I find that I take it off my shelf and reread it about once a year.)

On Meeting Men and Getting Married

At a party for my aunt's 74th birthday yesterday, I spoke to my cousin's wife, who told me that she and my cousin run a marriage preparation class for couples at their church.

She told me two interesting things:

1. That an average of three engaged couples per session met online.

2. That an average of three couples decide not to marry after taking the class.

"It's amazing how many couples meet online these days," she said. "Most of the people coming to our classes are marrying for the first time, and they're about 35 years old."

As for the couples who end up not getting married, she maintained, "That's a good thing. Better to know now than later."

My father agrees wholeheartedly. As we rolled up to the church for my wedding, he turned to me and said, "There's still time to change your mind, you know."

I didn't, and I'm glad I didn't. But I'm also glad I had a father who encouraged me to put my well-being ahead of the deposit on a reception hall.

How Not to Let a Good Day Go Bad

Slept in this morning and woke up happy as a lark. Read a bit of Henriette Anne Klauser's Write It Down, Make It Happen, which I found while cleaning out my basement last Saturday. It's one of my favorite books on the Law of Attraction, and it was high time I read something again on the subject. I've been attracting a bit of blah lately.

I got a call this morning from a good friend, who had a small wedding ceremony in April and is now planning a reception for friends and family. She sent invitations last week for "cocktails and hors d'oeuvres" at a yacht club.

She addressed the envelopes to include children, which was fine with me. But she's already gotten one call from a woman who gave her a hard time for using the word "cocktails" on a family invitation. "Are you sure I should be bringing my kids?" she wanted to know.

And this just put me in a bad mood: Because of course the woman understood that children were welcome, and that they would probably not be forced at knifepoint to consume barrels of Harvey Wallbangers. The point of her call was to make the bride feel as though she'd done something wrong.

I loathe women like this, women who live to belittle other females and to compete with them in the pettiest contests.

From then on, the day got a bit darker, and here I am at 12:51PM trying to shake it off. And I'd better, too, because we're expected at a party this evening, and I can't show up there in my current frame of mind.

A bad mood always results in crappy circumstances.

And it's true whether you want to attract a great guy, or a job where they show you the love instead of tossing you 2% raises, or just a good time at a party.

Which means I must strap on my headphones, hit the treadmill, and shake off this ennui. Then I'll do an exercise from Henriette's book.

Men and Women Are More Alike Than We Thought

I loved Ellen Goodman's column in today's newspaper, where she discussed the recent research that puts to rest the annoying myth that women talk too much.

I once read that women utter something like twice or three times as many words as men, but my own experience refutes that statistic. Anybody who knows me and my husband, for example, can tell you the guy easily out-talks me four words to one. (And his friends aren't much better.)

I nearly died of shock after I moved in with him and got our first phone bill; I'd shared an apartment with a female friend for two whole years, and our bill consistently came in at about half of what Peter could ring up.

So, I do object to the whole 'Men are from one Earth, and Women are from Pluto' theory. Sure, there's feminine, and there's masculine, and thank God for it. But in the end, we're all human.

Interestingly, I spoke to a woman today who has a 29-year-old son she'd like to marry off, but she says he's hit that patch in life where he's just not meeting new people. She maintains that a lot of the woman he's dated just aren't in a hurry to commit, a fact she attributes to the wider range of choices women enjoy these days.

She said she'd like her son to try the online dating route but is pretty sure he'll tell her to mind her own business. She is the second person I've met recently who's told me she has a son in his twenties who wants to get married.

So much for the stereotype that men don't want to commit.

This woman also mentioned that her 42-year-old niece met and married a guy she met online. The woman's crazy about her new husband, but unfortunately, he's an officer in the army and was sent to Iraq shortly after the wedding.

If you've done any online dating, you know that meeting and entertaining a stream of new people can get expensive. Here's a cheap date idea: Go out for ice cream and a walk. It's a relatively pressure-free way to get to know someone, and it can encourage warm and happy feelings.

Another 'Family Values' Politician Revealed to Be Scum

You really had to feel for Louisiana Senator David Vitter's wife, Wendy, when she stood at his side on Tuesday, announcing she had forgiven him for visiting prostitutes. I can't imagine what it must be like to wake up every morning next to this hypocritical jackass, who not only committed adultery but paid somebody to commit it with him.

What's really galls me is that Vitter billed himself a champion of family values. I really, really resent these guys and their phony passion for the hallowed American marriage, especially when we find out they've been out banging everybody they can get their hands on.

During the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal, the upstanding Senator Vitter called the former president "morally unfit to govern."

Wendy Vitter claimed that she would not forgive Bill had she been in Hillary's shoes. "I'm more like Lorena Bobbit," she was quoted as saying.

So it killed me to watch her standing there in her animal print dress, swearing that she'd forgiven the sleazebag. I don't know how she can even look at him, let alone live with him.

Leonardo DiCaprio Is a Tall Man

Yesterday's post suggested that Leo was shorter than his ex-girlfriend, Gisele Bundchen. A sharp-eyed reader immediately wrote in to correctly me.

She's right. I'm wrong. A quick Google search revealed that Mr. DiCaprio is actually 6'1.

Please forgive the error.

I guess Leo is one of those people who doesn't "read" tall; the two women I had coffee with yesterday morning believed him to be quite tiny.

As for Colbert, I've seen him in person. HIs incredible sexiness notwithstanding, he, too, comes off as someone who could be carried around in a pocket. A Google search reveals his height to be 5 10 1/2, which I think might be a slight exaggeration.

Apparently, Stewart is 5'7.

Which means nothing as far as I'm concerned. If he were single, and I were single, I'd date him.

Short Men Are Sexy, Too

A few years ago, I knew a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to a young Mia Farrow. Yet she rarely had a date and was known to spend more than one New Year's Eve alone, crying herself to sleep.

She seemed like a pleasant enough person, though, and so I hoped to set her up with a well-employed, fun-oriented cousin of mine. I invited them both to a party and casually introduced them. Later, I asked her what she thought.

"I would never date that guy," she said. "He's too short."

It didn't matter that he was friendly enough, decent looking, shared her religion and her passion for sports, had a great job, and lived in a desirable neighborhood. He didn't meet her height requirement.

It didn't matter that he was my cousin, either (yeah, I took the rejection a bit personally).

So that was the first and last time I introduced her to any man anywhere. You just can't help a person like that.

Apparently, she is not alone in her disdain of shorter men. One columnist claims that most women will not date fellows they deem too short due to some holdover from evolution. As far as I'm concerned, that's a lot of crap.Women who don't date shorter men aren't biologically programmed that way; they just care too much about what other people think.

You know, my husband does happen to be taller than me, but I did date a couple of diminutive fellows before I met him. When I decided I wanted to get married, my requirements for a man were that he be:

Loving
Loyal
Reliable
Successful
Fun

I didn't really care how tall he was.

Women who avoid shorter men owe it to themselves to take another look. If short guys are really so undesirable, then somebody better tell Stephen Colbert (do a Google search; both women and men call him a sex symbol) and Jon Stewart (he once dated Tawny Kitaen, the model/Whitesnake-video-hood-ornament, before eventually marrying another attractive woman).

Dating Coach Ronnie Ann Ryan, another colleague, and I had a fine time smashing the short-guys-are-unattractive myth over coffee this morning. Skyscraper Gisele Bundchen never had a problem being seen with Leonardo DiCaprio, that's for sure.

Peter once knew two guys who didn't quite make the 5'7 mark. One of them believed in his soul that his small stature rendered him deformed and hideous, and guess what, he was right. The few women managed to attract capitalized on his insecurity and took him for cash and prizes.

The other guy, who was even shorter, wasn't nearly as intelligent as the first. He called in sick to work as often as possible and, at the age of 30, remained a major aficionado of Bugs Bunny and other prepubescent TV fare.

Yet he always had a date. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he believed he had something to offer. A lot of women picked up on it. He married a pretty blue-eyed blonde with five inches on him.

When you want to meet a decent guy, go for qualities that matter. Height doesn't.

And when you find a kind, fun, successful man who's shorter than you, keep your shoes on.

Is Pole Dancing the New Feminism?

Some weeks ago, I had something to say about media reports touting pole dancing as the key to female empowerment. Last night, Stephen Colbert took on the subject, but he did it so much better.

On August 16th, the video will expire and should disappear from this space. Enjoy it until then.

Does He Like You?

I know I keep repeating myself, but it's not your job to convince some guy that you are the woman for him. It's also not your job to analyze every syllable he utters, his every facial expression, or the deep-seated cause of his compulsive knuckle cracking.

If he says he doesn't want a relationship, take him at his word. Keep moving until a braver man appears. If he wakes up one morning and finds he didn't mean it, he'll be sure to let you know.

Trust me.

VH1's 'Rock of Love'

Tonight at nine o'clock will mark the premiere of VH1's new reality series, Rock of Love, starring Poison lead singer, Bret Michaels. According to the show's website:

"Since 1986 when MTV introduced the world to the blue-eyed lead singer of Poison, women around the world have worshiped Bret Michael's as a veritable Rock God. Never out of the spotlight, Bret's career is still rocking with Poison and as a successful solo artist and the women are still lining up in hopes of a lying down with the sexy star. But the demands of life-on-the-road for the ultimate rocker have taken a toll...on his love life."

I have some questions.

1) Bret's career is still rocking? Really? In which mall?

2) Where are these women who line up in "hope of a lying down with the sexy star?"

3) What kind of an expression is "a lying down with," anyway?

"Twenty lucky ladies will get their chance for an All-Access pass to Bret Michaels' heart and to share in all his superstar lifestyle. Bret will invite twenty handpicked beautiful women to move into his rock and roll palace in the Hollywood Hills and compete for his heart. They must win over his mind and his body by proving their love for Bret, their passion for rock and their potential to be the perfect 'Rock Star Girlfriend.'"

4) What the hell is an "All-Access" pass to Brett Michaels' heart?

5) How can one can compete to share a superstar lifestyle if there is no superstar in the equation? (While Brad Pitt qualifies as a superstar, the leathery lead singer of an 80s hair band does not.)

6) Who writes VH1's web copy? Better yet, who comes up with the ideas for their shows?

7) Is 'Rock Star Girlfriend' a goal I should encourage my children to shoot for?

Gee, it's already 9:10, and I could use a good laugh. I think I'll tune in.

Dating Advice From Dianne Brill

Peter worked today, so I decided to clean out the basement.

I'm not the type of person who would ever set out to do such a thing without prodding, so Peter gently suggested that I go through my 48 boxes of books I haven't opened since we moved here four years ago, sort them, and decide which ones to keep and which to donate to the libary. I started at 9AM, didn't take a break until 2, and there's still a boatload of stuff for me clear out down there.

During this session, I came upon two interesting items.

The first was a letter from an old friend apologizing for making out with my then-boyfriend. Now, I haven't seen this girl in years, and I actually kind of miss her. The guy (obviously) turned out to be a jerk (in numerous ways), and I don't miss him at all. Never even think of him.

Her letter said that he'd led her to believe our relationship had ended, which she soon realized was a lie. After she went home to England, I told him to get lost. He resumed pursuing me ardently (some would call it stalking), but by then I'd moved onto a marginally better guy.

The other interesting item I found in the basement?

It was Dianne Brill's how-to book, Boobs, Boys, and High Heels or How to Get Dressed In Just Under Six Hours. In case you don't know Dianne (she's on the right in the 1986 photo with Ozzy Osbourne and Janis Savitt), she became known as Queen of the Night in the 80s due to her constant presence on the NYC club scene. I liken her to a benevolent Paris Hilton without the destructive tendencies.

I hadn't thought about her for years until I happened upon her book. Then I did a search and found her website. Apparently, she's selling her own line of makeup these days.

Boobs, Boys, and High Heels sparkles with Ms. Brill's wit and wisdom. Here's one highlight:

"The bad date does not exist. Believe me, I've been on all kinds, and I've discovered that all are love experiments, learning experiences (even if what you learn is what you don't want), and good dating practice. I've survived a lot of dates a lot of you babes probably dread."

The joker who made out with my friend certainly qualifies as a learning experience. In retrospect, I'd call him less a love experiment than a science experiment. What a doofus!

Single and Loving It!

At one point in my disastrous dating career, I made a vow to stop going out with men altogether until I met a guy worth my time. I concentrated on my friends and my career, traveled, and generally enjoyed life until my husband showed up.

And, even then, I wasn't too enthusiastic about dating him. When he asked me out for the following Saturday, I answered, "How about Wednesday?"

To this day, he teases me about that. It certainly didn't turn him off, though. If anything, it established the fact that I had a life of my own and enjoyed it (healthy men tend to be attracted to happy women with full lives).

But, hey, I figured all the guys I'd dated so far turned out to be duds (or heartbreakers), so why blow a perfectly good Saturday night with some guy I'd probably have nothing in common with? Especially when I could be out with my friends.

After all, Saturday only comes once a week.

How to Keep a Man Faithful

A lot of women ask me how they can keep a man from cheating. They believe that some magic formula must exist, but the only formula I know of is to only ever get involved with a faithful man.

Yeah, I know you've read the crap in the media that men are "hardwired" to "spread their seed," and they can't help themselves from sleeping around, but it's garbage. Talk about lowering expectations!

Men are no more hardwired to cheat than we are. Recent data shows that women today step out on their mates much more than we used to. We work outside the home, so we have ample of opportunity for something on the side. Plenty of women go for it, but it doesn't make it right.

Some people cheat.

Some people do not.

It's that simple.

Unfortunately, often when a woman learns her partner's been slipping between the sheets with another lass, she blames herself. She thinks perhaps she's not pretty, sexy, smart, interesting, or whatever enough. She believes she's failed.

Or she blames the other woman. She reasons that a guy has a biological imperative to be unfaithful, and it's the female's fault for throwing herself at him: The girl's a slut.

(It's a terrible idea to call another woman a slut, by the way. If the guy cheated on me, I'd call him a slut.)

If a guy is unfaithful to you, please take comfort in the fact that he suffers from a major character defect: cowardice. Real men end relationships before they begin new ones. A coward will probably always be a coward. Say a prayer for the next woman he gets involved with.

When a woman cheats on a man, the guy rarely blames himself. Sure, he's hurt. He's probably closed the door and cried about it, but he usually ends the relationship and moves on.

Take B, a good male friend of mine and Peter's. After he learned his longtime girlfriend had a lengthy affair with her auto mechanic, we spent a lot of time talking him through it. The man was heartbroken. (I can't imagine what the hell she was thinking; he's funny, good looking, an excellent cook and gardener, handy around the house, a whiz at finance, and, oh yeah, faithful).

He broke off the relationship immediately. He gave himself time to mourn the loss. After a couple of months, he signed up for a cooking class and the Adirondack club, where he met new new people.

Today he's happily married to a woman who loves him. As far as we know, she resists impulses to sleep with her mechanic.

Have you ever seen the movie Father of the Bride with Elizabeth Taylor and Spencer Tracy? There's a scene where Elizabeth and her fiance have just had a fight. Spencer, who plays her father, asks if it was over another woman.

Elizabeth replies something to the effect of, "No, but I wish it was. That would be something I could sink my teeth into!"

For the life of me, I don't know what she meant. Why would anybody ever want to fight for a disloyal man's affection?

What a colossal waste of time.

Bald Guys Are Sexy

While watching TV last night, I was subjected to one of those ads designed to make bald guys feel like unappealing losers that no sane woman would touch.

The ad demonstrated how bald guys could achieve never-ending joy, sex, and success by submitting to a procedure that would have them sporting a scalpful of nubs like Granny's old sweater in no time.

Then I was treated to some footage of women crawling over the formerly bald losers.

I have to say, I hate ads that make people feel inadequate (although that is the function of most advertising). In case you haven't noticed, many bald men are incredibly attractive. The fact that they can even go bald is evidence of their masculinity.

Fortunately, a lot of balding guys are beginning to get this. They're forsaking the pathetic-looking (and sympathy-inducing) plugs, drugs, and transplants and just shaving off whatever's left.

I know one great-looking balding dude who, for years, painstakingly arranged the hair he had left into a horrifying comb-over. Then, one day, the light went on and the razor came out. He looks like a million dollars (maybe ten, after inflation).

Every now and then, he lets that little wreath of hair grow in a bit too long, and I remind him, "Think Ed Harris, not Ed Asner."

Check out the hilarious BaldRUs for fun facts for bald men and the women who love them, as well as the dirt on what really goes on in some of those ridiculous "hair clubs."

The Peril of Wearing Too Much Perfume

Stayed up last night to watch Craig Ferguson, who, like Colbert and Stewart, interviews people who write books instead of, say, people like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan who just get their pictures taken a lot.

Last night, Craig talked to an Irish guy named Ken Bruen, the author of Priest, the latest in a series about an alcoholic ex-cop from Galway. I will probably give it a whirl once I get through the stack of books on my coffee table.

Yesterday at the library I added Donald Spoto's Joan, the biography of Joan of Arc, to the stack. It will be chock full o' laughs, I'm sure. Nothing like a true story about burning a 19-year-old girl at the stake to put a smile on your face.

Good thing I'm also reading Nick Hornby's Housekeeping Vs. The Dirt to fend off utter despair (Hornby, the author of the book that became the Hugh Grant movie, About a Boy, is hilarious and gives me reason to live).

Now for my dating-- or human relations--tip of the day: The temperature here in New England hovered around 93 yesterday with the humidity coming in at about 900%.

And then, in the faintly air conditioned library where I dampened Joan's pages, a lung leadening odor wafted into my sphere, which I came to recognize as women's perfume.

Despite the implications of the seductive gatefold ads in The New York Times Magazine, bathing oneself in a powdery flowery fragrance is unattractive at any time of the year. In the choking heat of summer, it's downright repellent.

Less is more! And even less is even better!

If you must wear perfume during the summer and want to attract men and the goodwill of the general population, resist! Until sundown, anyway.

Which brings me to the subject of fragrance for men. Perhaps you've seen the ads, which promise that women will be compelled to spray themselves with whipped cream upon catching a whiff of a fellow wearing Tag Body Spray.

Even though I don't know any women who've ever succumbed to the mysterious powers of Tag, the advertising clearly works in getting guys to buy the stuff.

Every single man I know has a couple of cans in his bathroom.

Oh!

The Naked Truth About Strip Clubs

The New York Daily News ran an expose on strip clubs yesterday. I have to say it was a bit of an eye-opener, especially this quote from the Erik Langan, the CEO of Rick's Cabaret in Manhattan:

"For guys, it's male bonding, or an escape from reality," Langan said. "You want to believe this 19-year-old girl really loves you, is listening to you and maybe in another time, she could be your girlfriend. So you can spend $3,000 here and say 'Hey, I had a good time.'"

I don't know about you, but my feelings would really be hurt if my husband were out spending three grand to pretend a teenager was in love with him.

But then the sting would wear off, and I'd lose respect for him. It would be hard to press from my mind the image of him moaning about his horrible life to a stranger who couldn't care less about the poor bastard.

Here's what Raquel, a young woman who dances to finance her Mercedes, her property on Long Island, and to pay off her student loans, says about the fellows she entertains:


"Most of the time is spent listening to them talk. They talk about their marriages, they talk about work, their kids, their problems. I mean, I feel like a psychotherapist. A lot of them seem very lonely, it's pretty sad sometimes."

Pretty sad, indeed.

What about you? Do you think it's okay for attached guys to hang out with strippers?

A lot of wives and girlfriends are fine with it (or to pretend to be), but, for me, it doesn't quite mesh with "treat others as you would have them treat you" rule of happy relationships.

For some reason, I don't think my husband would appreciate me going off on a business trip, getting drunk, and jamming dollar bills into some strange man's underwear. So I when I used to go away on business, I didn't do it.

I expect no less from him.

A Masochist In Love No More

Today's New York Times Style section ran this fabulous and instructive piece by a former doormat in love. This woman dated (and put up with) the creepiest men, until she flouted the advice given to her by her father and the authors of the dating manual, The Rules.

I never read The Rules, but I did catch the pair who wrote in on Oprah a few years back. I objected to a lot of their advice, particularly that a woman should never call a man back. It's one thing to remain a bit elusive; it's another to be downright rude.

I do think (although the author of the Times piece will disagree with me) that it's better to let a guy phone first: He will usually ask for your number and say, "I'll call you." Or he'll drop you off after a first date and say, "I'll call you."

In which case, I think it's wise to see if he lives up to his word. Unfortunately, too many women choose not to take the wait-and-see approach and call, text, and email the guy to death.

And that amounts to relationship suicide.

Will an Office Romance Jeopardize Your Career?

Interesting piece with Today's Meredith Viera and Lissa Coffey.

Lessons From a Master Flirt

My friend is an amazing flirt.

Here's what she's not: Trashy, vulgar, in-your-face, or desperate. Here's what she is: Attractive, kind, and confident. She has an open and pleasant face, but after two children, she doesn't possess a figure like any of the women on NBC's fright fest, The Age of Love. She looks like a woman, not a girl.

A couple of weeks ago, she and I and a bunch of other female friends headed to a tapas bars for, well, tapas. Oh, and mojitos.

The host came over to seat us, but he refused to make eye contact. So Master Flirt made a joke (nine times out of ten, she gets people to loosen up this way), but he was resolute. He wasn't going to look at us.

At that point, I admit, I'd have given up. Hey, she tried. But the girl did not give up. Instead, in an act of sheer genius, she sidled up to the guy. She was careful not to invade his space frontally, but moved over to his side gently in a way that conveyed, "Hey, Buddy."

And guess what? He smiled at her. He smiled at her all the way over to the table.

Then the waiter came over. He, too, refused to make eye contact. So she made a comment about the weather (I'm an idiot at small talk; while I'm trying to come up with something clever to say, she blurts out something benign, and it usually works. But this guy, like the last one, was a tough customer). When that didn't achieve the desired result, she brought up the subject of the bandage on his arm.

"Hey, what happened?" she asked.

The waiter involuntarily arched his back, surprised that she even noticed. "Eh, I just scratched it pruning a tree," he said. And then he smiled. And he smiled at her for the rest of the evening.

At the school where she works, she's known as the "hot teacher," even though she doesn't own a provocative article of clothing. She's also over 40.

The woman knows how to draw people in and make them feel important.

At her house for lunch one day, I spied How to Win Friends & Influence People by Dale Carnegie in her bookcase. While I've read that book, she absolutely lives it. Winning friends and influencing people is not about manipulation; it's about making people feel good about you and, more important, themselves.

And that's what a master flirt does. Everybody just loves her for it.

Wedding Season Is Dating Season

Weddings can be great places to meet guys. When my sister attended the nuptials of her college friend's brother, she ended up meeting, falling in love with, and marrying the bride's brother. They celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary a couple of months ago.

My friend's husband's sister was seated next to the future COO of a major Wall Street firm at the "loser" table at a wedding. These "losers" have been married 23 years, have three children, reside in well-to-do Greenwich, Connecticut, and hire a helicopter on summer weekends to fly them out to their other home in Amagansett, Long Island.

On Tuesday evening, Peter and I attended a lovely party given by some neighbors. Over drinks, I asked them where they met. The answer?

At a wedding.

The wife (let's call her Carol) attended with a date; the husband (we'll call him Roger) went by himself. At the party after the reception, everybody except Carol and Roger went to the parking lot to schmooze and smoke cigars.

Carol and Roger got to talking. Turns out he was the cousin of the bride, Carol's friend from childhood. She knew much of Roger's family, and so they had plenty to talk about. His family assured her he was a great guy.

They said goodnight around 4:30AM. Roger lived in a faraway state, so Carol offhandedly offered to make him breakfast at her apartment. Since she knew his family so well, she felt safe enough to invite him over before he had to hit the highway.

He showed up at her door four hours later. She made omelets. Sparks flew, but so did the time. He had to get home for work the next day.

He left. He liked her. She liked him. He wanted to see her again, but she had a trip to Cancun coming up. A reunion would have to wait.

Which gave him plenty of time to think about her, how much he liked her, and how different she was from other women he'd met so far. He couldn't wait to see her again.

When she got back from Cancun, he made it a point to call her. They got together once. Twice. Again and again. And now they've been married 12 years.

I wonder if things would have worked out differently if they had cell phones (not everybody had a cell phone back then), and they called each other incessantly. I wonder if too much contact too soon would have prevented their feelings from percolating.

Cell phones (and email and texting) are great in emergencies, but my guess is that they've killed many a romance due to overaccessibility.

What I love about Carol and Roger's story is this: She showed interest in him, and then she went away. While it's important to be available, it's even more important not to be too available.

Everyone--both men and women--wants to think they're getting a prize.

The Age of Love

Ronnie Ann Ryan, the author of Manifesting Mr. Right, alerted me to The Age of Love, a truly scary new reality (uh, yeah, right)program on NBC, in which 20-something women compete with 40-somethings for the affection of some 30-year-old man.

I checked it out on Monday evening. Two days later, I still cannot quite articulate how much I despise it. Even my 11-year-old hated it.

"Why are all those women fighting over one dumb guy?" she wanted to know.

"Why do they all have, like, the same bodies?"

"Why are they all wearing bikinis?"

"This show is really stupid."

Yes, it certainly is.

Apparently, she and I are in the minority when it comes to disliking The Age of Love. Elle magazine called it, "this summer's guiltiest pleasure" (now I remember why I don't read Elle magazine).

Judging by the comments on the show's message board, it's poised to be a massive hit.

Note to "hunky host" Mark Consuelos: Call me crazy, but The Age of Love is a lousy career move.

Keys to a Happy Marriage

I completely agree with this report from The Today Show (it's worth watching if you can put up with the 30-second commercial before it starts).

Nothing kills romance faster than a partner who doesn't keep up with his or her share of the housework.

A woman I know and love recently married a man who's lived on his own for many years. She moved into his house, but she's taken on all the household chores: the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, everything.

I can't imagine why. You figure the guy cleaned the toilet once or twice since he moved out of Mommy and Daddy's house.

I'm not necessarily blaming him, either. Why did my friend assume the housework? Did he ask her to? Or she she take it upon herself.

They've only been married two months, and she already resents it. Resentment is a passion-killer.

Playing 'Hard to Get' the Right Way

Hi, Terry-

We talk about how to get a good man, make him pursue you, cherish you like a treasure all the time, but do you think we women need to get over our pride? If it hurts pretending that we don't care about that man, shouldn't we show we sincerely care about him?

I went out twice with a certain man from work and had a physical relationship. I liked him a lot, but in order to pretend to be cool, I agreed with him that we are just "physical." I didn't want him to think that I want a serious relationship so fast.

I know he liked me, too, but after that he doesn't answer my calls anymore. He still helps me at work and is friendly, but our intimacy seems gone. I don't know if he is not really interested in me or if my cool attitude stops him.

He is leaving the country soon (which I knew from the beginning), and I don't know if he is coming back. I am very depressed that I might lose him, especially when I know another girl has decided to follow him (yes, he is very popular. Most women like him).

Now he is not answering my calls or text messages. Should I get over my pride and visit him in the other country? Or should I tell him in person I want to be with him?

-Confused

While there's no way in hell I'd travel to another country to see the guy, you have absolutely nothing to lose by telling him you loved getting to know him, and that you'll miss him.

I would tell him in person. I would look him in the eye. I would leave no room for doubt that you care for him a great deal. Then let him leave the country. Let him roll things around in his mind for a while. See if anything comes of it.

In the meantime, I would cease calling, texting, or emailing him immediately. Once you've told him how you feel, the ball is in his court. It is up to him to contact you. If you try to contact him, you'll push him in the wrong direction.

So say your bit and walk away.

I want to clarify something: Being proud and being cold are two different things. Being proud means you expect to be treated well. Being cold just makes people think you're not that crazy about them.

Think of it this way. If you dated a guy, and he told you he just wanted to be "physical," wouldn't you be confused if he called you and texted you afterwards?

Next time, try doing the opposite. Let a guy know you're interested in him by looking him in the eye and truly listening to him. Laugh at his jokes, if they're funny. Let him know you had a great time at the end of the night.

Most of the time, a guy will say, "I'll call you."

Which means he has taken it upon himself to initiate further contact. Take him at his word. Let him live up to it.

Let him call you.

Keep busy in the meantime. This is no time to camp out next to the phone. If he calls, go out with him. If he doesn't, move on. If he doesn't call until three weeks later, I wouldn't leap to go out with him again. If I really liked him, I might fit him in after a week or so.

As for this guy who's on his way out of the country, there's nothing you can do to make him return your affection. You just have to let him go. Whether he comes back and sees you for the great person you are is entirely up to him.

It's not easy, but it is freeing in a way, isn't it?

Terry

Thank God for Blind Dates

Footloose and offspring free today, Peter dug a trench in the yard while I watched the Concert for Diana. Today, July 1st, would have been Princess Diana's 46th birthday. It also would have been my parents' 46th wedding anniversary.

My parents met on a blind date on June 13, 1959 (that's Mom, Dad, and one of my children in 2001 in the photo). My mother's college friend had a date with a young lawyer, who asked if she could bring someone along for his friend, the man who later became my father. Interestingly, my in-laws got married on June 13, 1959.

Back to Diana: My mother and I got up early on July 29, 1981 to watch her wedding to Prince Charles. Then, in 2005, we watched Charles' wedding to Camilla. At that point, my mother was bedridden with brain cancer. She died a few months later.

As much as my mother admired Diana, the other royals irked her. Fergie of "My Humps" fame, who performed at today's concert, feels quite differently. She gushed to an interviewer, "We're American. We're very inspired by royalty," or something equally bizarre.

I've been to England five times, and it's one of my favorite places in the world, but I thought the whole point of being American was to reject royalty, not to be inspired by it.

Desperate Women Make Plays For Other Women's Men

THE PLAYERS:

You: Minding your own business, out with a date or a boyfriend

Him: Minding his own business and enjoying your company

Another woman (his ex-girlfriend, an overly friendly waitress, or some other miscellaneous female): Makes eye contact with only him, uses body language to shut you out, may 'accidentally' spill your drink, makes sweeping gestures with her eyeballs to suggest you're wearing hideous clothes. In extreme situations, she may mention that you're not very good-looking.

It still blows me away the way some females treat other females, yet twice in two days I've heard from women who've been harrassed by a rival for a dude's affection. If this happens to you, feel sorry for the poor idiot who thinks her life is going to improve by making a play for your date.

Whatever you do, don't challenge her. Avoid telling her to go to hell, smacking her in the head, or giving her the finger. Do not-- I repeat-- do not reduce yourself to her level. She's desperate. You're not. She's also a loser.

Blot your spilled drink. Pretend you didn't notice that the sorry creature suffers compulsions to poach other women's boyfriends to feel better about herself. Did I mention that she's a loser?

A worthwhile guy will respond to her with casual but friendly disinterest, and then you've beat her. A substandard guy will leap on her like a St. Bernard. Even if this happens, you've still beat her.

Offer the pathetic woman your seat. If he's foolish enough to return the attention of such a low caliber individual, tell her she's welcome to him.

Then do yourself a favor and hit the highway.

If You Want to Meet a Guy, Bring a Book

Last Friday, I described how I attracted the attention of a highly attractive fellow on the beach with my head stuck in Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights.

Books are like dogs that way. They attract the attention of the opposite sex. But you don't have to feed them or clean up after them.

On a business flight a few years ago, I overheard a man start a conversation with the woman next to him about the book in her lap, One Hundred Years of Solitude. On another flight, my seatmate, an entomologist proofreading a piece entitled, "The Oviposition of the Onion Fly," inquired about the book I read, which was A Christmas Carol. Then he wistfully told me about how his mother used to read it out loud to him when he was a child.

I once lent a copy of Bright Lights, Big City to a guy I was crazy about. He read it at lunchtime on a pretty spring day in Lower Manhattan, attracting the attention of another woman who chatted him up about it. (As you can guess, that wasn't exactly my intention.)

Even though reading is considered a solitary pursuit, it certainly invites conversation. And you can absolutely learn something about a guy by the books he reads, or by the things he says about the books you read.

Reading in public as a way to meet new men beats going to clubs (they're great for dancing, not meeting), where the emphasis remains on how hot your body is and how you shake it. Unless, of course, you hate reading and prefer sensory overload that prohibits meaningful conversation of any kind. Some people do.

Getting Lucky Again (More Law of Attraction at Play)

In my previous post, I discussed my reasons for joining Toastmasters. I mentioned that you won't necessarily meet the man of your dreams there, but you could make a friend or business contact who'll introduce you to him.

Interestingly, last week Ronnie Ann Ryan and I had a discussion about guys who make great boyfriends. We agreed that bookworms are tops; they're passionate, interesting, interested, and, based on our experience, pretty good guys (unless, of course, the books they read include titles like How to Build Bombs With Crap From Your Parents' Basement).

I've always been attracted to bookworms like Stephen Colbert, my husband, and Phil Lesh (anybody who quotes William Blake in his autobiography is definitely a bookworm).

Today I served as Toastmaster for the first time, which means I ran most of the meeting. Unfortunately, the member who'd been assigned to serve as Table Topics Master (the sadist responsible for singling out a poor sucker to talk off the top of his head about a specific subject) didn't show.

So I came up with today's topic off the top of my head. Inspired by the grand opening of a new independent bookstore (a delightful alternative to B&N, Waldenbooks, and Borders) in my neighborhood last week, I suggested we take turns telling the group about a book that changed us.

Midway through the first respondent's presentation about her life-altering experience with The Celestine Prophecy, two guys in their 20s we'd never seen before walked into the conference room.

Asked to introduce themselves, they seemed to be the kind of fellows Ronnie Ann and I talked about. One guy in particular screamed "bookworm" with his black-rimmed glasses (behind which hid a beautiful face). Once we got him talking about his favorite book, The Pilgrim's Progress, he confirmed bookworm status.

Neither one of them were wearing wedding rings, so maybe I can endorse Toastmasters as a place where you might meet the man of your dreams. As for me, if I were single and a couple of years younger, I'd have gone for the dude with the glasses.

Getting Lucky

Today I'll conduct my local Toastmasters meeting for the first time. In case you don't know, Toastmasters is an organization devoted to promoting leadership and public speaking skills.

I joined for two reasons: It helps me lead the networking group I started for businesswomen in my area. It also helps keep the shyness at bay.

Toastmasters is a great place to meet supportive, ambitious people. You won't necessarily meet the man of your dreams there, but you might make a friend or a business contact or two. And who knows where that'll lead?

One successful man who raves about Toastmasters is Scott Ginsberg, who's also known as "The Nametag Guy." This dude has been wandering the planet wearing a nametag 24/7 since November 2000, and it's paid off. He's made a lot of friends (his goal is to make the planet a friendlier place). He also launched a business that landed him on 20/20 a couple of weeks ago. You can check out the video right here.

While most of his fans want to to promote their businesses, Scott's advice applies to anybody looking to get lucky. It boils down to this: Meet new people and start relationships with them. (I love this guy!)

I doubt I'll ever venture out of my house wearing a nametag, but I did email Scott for permission to print the following article from his ezine. It offers brilliant tips for getting out of a rut and changing your life:

How to become the Luckiest Person You Know
By Scott Ginsberg, The Nametag Guy

1. Exponentially increase your activity level. Since November 2nd, 2000, I’ve met over 100,000 people. I also seem to be extremely lucky. Coincidence?

LUCK OUT: figure out how many people you encounter on an average day. Then triple it.

2. Don't stay at home. The best way to be in the right place at the right time is to be in a lot of places.

LUCK OUT: next time you want to sit around and surf the net, read or write, go to Starbucks or something. Increase the probability of an encounter by positioning yourself in a high-traffic area.

3. Practice strategic serendipity. It’s about preparation, observation and relaxation. This is especially important for trade shows, conferences and other high-traffic venues.

LUCK OUT: got an event coming up? Cool! Read this article called 19 Ways to be the One Person at Your Next Conference Everybody Remembers.

4. Stick yourself out there. The reason I meet so many people (and, subsequently have so many opportunities) is because a nametag is unexpected. It breaks people's patterns. It makes them wonder, "Huh?" And especially if they notice a nametag in an unexpected venue, like a concert or a wedding, they're more likely to approach me.

LUCK OUT: it's not about the nametag - it's about making the mundane memorable. Be unexpected.

Learn three more ways to become the luckiest person you know here!

Why You May Be Attracted to the Men You're Attracted to

This pretty decent report from Today explains a lot.

She Attracted the Right Man (After Dating a Parade of Duds)

The trip to the Jersey Shore for my brother-in-law's 40th birthday party was worth it for numerous reasons:

1. I got to see smart, fun people I hadn't seen in years
2. I got to spend time with my cousin and her remarkable boyfriend
3. The pain in my neck I suffered as a result of recent events finally subsided
4. My ghostly offspring and I showed up on the beach, making every sunbather in the vicinity feel superior.

About my cousin and her boyfriend:

When she was in her 20s, she watched all her friends get married. Most of her siblings and cousins married. Like a lot of married people who drop their single friends, they dropped her. She soldiered on, hoping to meet the right guy, between shopping for and attending showers. For one reason or another, all relationships met dead ends.

By the time she got into her 30s, she started to feel pretty dissatisfied about life. The dating parade continued, but few of the men did it for her. If they did it for her, she didn't do it for them. She pressed on, spending time with fellows who enjoyed her hobbies of dancing and going to the theater.

I'd met several of them over the years because she brought them to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. They didn't thrill me, and they didn't thrill her.

Then, four years ago, as I hung a shower curtain in our new house, my cousin called to invite me somewhere. She mentioned that she'd been dating a podiatrist. She didn't say she was crazy about him, or that he was crazy about her, but I could hear it in her voice: This guy was different.

He's still different. Spending time at their house last weekend, I actually got a lump in my throat; their love for one another is that obvious (without being creepy).

My father called me last night to rave about the dude. Peter loves him. My aunt is crazy about him. He's successful but down to earth. He's polite. He's funny. He's easy to be around. And he loves my cousin.

If he's so great, you may ask, why hasn't he married her?

Well, it's certainly not for lack of trying. He's the love of her life, she says, but they have a good thing. Why mess it up?

The Highway to Unhappiness

During our 4-hour trip to the Jersey Shore Saturday morning, we encountered a series of jerk drivers. You know the type: They exist solely to weave in and out of tight spaces and scare the pants off everybody else on the parkway.

I briefly--very briefly--dated such an individual in college. He liked to call himself "an offensive driver." His sister called him "Asshole."

Which is, of course, what he turned out to be.

When you're dating a guy, watch the way he drives. Decent men (those of the 'treat others as you would have them treat you' variety) don't need to prove they own the road. They don't cut people off. They resist urges to speed around blind curves. They don't zip through residential neighborhoods.

Case in point: My cousin's boyfriend drives a new Jaguar, but he's not an idiot about it. He drives it like a man, not like a 7-year-old. He lets the car speak for itself.

While this man can afford his car, a lot of people driving luxury vehicles can't. They're living on credit. Don't be impressed by cars. Actions speak much louder than possessions.

The last thing you ever want to do is end up with a guy in serious debt. A man in debt is a miserable man. He'll make you miserable, too.

Geek Finds Romance On the Beach

It's 5:30AM. We're packing the offspring for a trip this morning to the Jersey Shore, hoping to beat the traffic to my brother-in-law's 40th birthday bash this evening.

Since we should arrive before lunch, we'll meet my cousin on the beach and expose our blindingly white bodies. I'm not a beach person, unless it means going at night, which is another lovely story altogether.

Spent much of my adolescence and young adulthood plagued by people with a substance called melanin in their skin that caused them to crave the rays of the sun. Consequently, I suffered countless hours on the hot sand, wrapped in Levis and sweatshirts to avoid splattering like a strip of bacon.

I killed time by reading behind a pair of massive UV-repellent goggles. One time, a tall, handsome, golden, and sufficiently-muscled 21-year-old man approached not my lithe friends, who lay fetchingly in bikinis, but me: the poindexter inside a book.

He crouched down next to me. "What're you reading?" he asked.

"Wuthering Heights," I answered.

"You're kidding," he said. "I just finished Jane Eyre."

And so began a little romance. Years later, one of my bikini friends still marvels at it.

If a pasty bookworm can get the attention of a gorgeous (and well-read!) man on the beach, I guess anything can happen.

How He Met the Woman He Is Going to Marry

Talk about the Law of Attraction.

For the past couple of days, I've been talking, thinking, and writing about online dating services like Match.com and Eharmony.

And then I got a call today from my insurance agent telling me that he'd received notice from my insurance company. They told him they planned to cancel my policy because I hadn't paid my premium, which was due June 8th (between accommodating houseguests during my father-in-law's funeral and shuttling children to end-of-year school activities, I forgot to write the check).

My insurance agent is my cousins' childhood friend, so I'm friendly with him. After we agreed that I would set up an automatic payment plan, he said, "I don't know whether the boys have told you, Terry, but I'm getting married."

"Get out!" I shrieked. "Congratulations."

(Just so you know, this guy is tall, well-employed, smart, good-looking, and funny. It's amazed me for years that nobody had ever snatched him up.)

"When's the big day?" I asked.

"We're going to elope," he said. "But she's Irish like me, so we plan a trip to Ireland early next year."

"Where did you meet?" I asked.

He paused.

"On Match.com, if you can believe it," he answered sheepishly. "You get to be my age (44), and you don't get to meet too many people otherwise."

"I know exactly what you mean," I said. Then I told him about my male friend who'd had success on Eharmony.

Now here's the best part of this guy's story:

"I'd been on Match for about a year," he continued. "And I met a lot of quality people, but nothing clicked. Then I met this woman, and I knew right away."

This guy's tenacity struck me. Honestly, if I'd endured a year's worth of lackluster dates, I'd probably drop Match.com. I'd give up. Dating the wrong people is exhausting. It's also expensive.

But not this guy. He knew what he wanted, and he held out for it. He found it. Hearing this thrilled me to no end. I just love it when people get what they're looking for.

Attract a Man You Can Love and Respect

I spent Father's Day at a barbecue with my in-laws. My sister-in-law's sister showed up with her fiance. She met him at work.

Turns out her fiance's sister is about to get married, too, to a guy she met on Match.com. I chimed in that a good friend of mine met his girlfriend of almost a year on Eharmony.

At that point, a fellow who overheard our conversation jumped in. "I don't believe in dating websites," he said. "It's like you're trying to buy a girlfriend or boyfriend."

The woman who met her fiance at work and I disagreed. Granted, she did meet her fiance, a guy she loves and respects, at the office. I didn't. I met my husband the old fashioned way (in a bar). I do remember being frustrated at the time because the only people I met in my day-to-day life were the same old robots at my office.

So I kept doing what I'd been doing, which was to go to bars.

But I'd set a different intention. I knew what I wanted and what I didn't want. I began to attract it (I still attracted losers, too, but I started spotting them before I got involved). I went out with a variety of guys, instead of just the type I'd previously been attracted to (and who were the source of my problems). I widened the net.

Eventually, the right guy showed up. Not only was he attracted to me, but, for for a nice change of pace, I was attracted to him, too.

When you want to meet a special person, I don't think it matters so much where you meet him as it does that you're open (I said open, not desperate) to meeting him. You might meet him in a bar, a hospital, a coffee shop, online, whatever. It helps to step out into the world every morning feeling good about yourself and knowing what you have to offer.

Also know what kind of man you want. Bring that person to life consistently in your imagination. It may sound like hocus-pocus, but it isn't. If you bring that guy to life in your mind every morning and night, you'll eventually attract a man you can respect and fall in love with.

As far as being attractive goes, even if you're not a good-looking person, you can blow a classic beauty away if you present yourself with confidence and optimism. Be an easy person to be around.

How often do you laugh, for example?

Find something to laugh about. Laughing genuinely is so attractive to other people who like to laugh. Look, life isn't easy. It's not fair, either. You want to spend it with a person who can help you see the humor in it, don't you?

Well, there's a decent guy you can love and respect who wants to spend his life with that kind of person, too.

Be that person, set your intention to meet a great guy, and get out of the house.

How She Met Her Husband

Had dinner with the wife of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's great-grandson last night. She told me she met her very kind and well-off husband in a supermarket, of all places.

What's even cooler is that she was the mother of five when they met. He is six years younger than she is.

The fact that this woman found her husband in a supermarket comes as no surprise to Ronnie Ann Ryan, the author of Manifesting Mr. Right, who has been telling women that supermarkets are great places to meet men for eons.

Men I Love (and Men I Don't)

The following men make me glad I'm female:

Stephen Colbert
Lewis Black
Jon Stewart
Phil Lesh
Paul Newman
Bob Deans

The following men make me scared I'm female:

Larry the Cable Guy
Mick Jagger
Joe Francis, the loser who founded the Girls Gone Wild video series
Phil Spector
James Woods
Jack Nicholson
Jay Leno (If I hear one more Paris-Hilton-Is-a-Whore joke I'm going to scream)

Dating Tip For Father's Day

If you've been emotionally or physically abused, or if you grew up in a house where nobody paid much attention to you or your feelings, you will probably attract friends and lovers who treat you the same way.

Just so you know, I'm not a shrink. I'm licensed to drive, and that's about it.

But I've noticed that people who've suffered rotten relationships in childhood tend to end up in rotten relationships as adults. If this sounds like you, you need to create in your own mind what a good relationship looks and feels like. You have to, as Wayne Dyer says, "picture the end result," and put yourself in that picture. You have to feel yourself in that picture, and you have to do it over and over again until you realize it. "Fake it 'til you make it," Steven Tyler from Aerosmith once said.

It helps to get away from people who are down on the opposite sex, who believe true love is a myth for suckers, and so on. Hang around with people who enjoy good love relationships. Absorb their good luck. It's contagious.

Recognize the fact that your past relationships weren't ideal, but don't feel sorry for yourself. Move on. Believe that the love you want and desire wants and desires you, too.

Keep at it until one morning you find yourself waking up next to a man who cherishes you the way you were meant to be cherished.

Should a Guy Pay For the First Date?

A couple of readers asked me this one.

I answered via my e-newsletter that, yeah, the guy should pay the first time out, only because most men will assume you're politely giving them the heave-ho if you reach into your wallet.

Unfortunately, this means that men can shoulder an unfair financial burden. So, if you're out for the first time with a guy, and you like him, let him pay. Then look him in the eye, smile sincerely, and thank him. You can say, "What do you say we let me get it next time?"

This way, he knows you like him. He knows you are not taking advantage of him (a lot of men have been burned by women who feigned interest in an effort to score free drinks, for example, although I know for a fact you are not one of them).

If he likes you, he'll call you again (don't call him; you've made your intentions known). Suggest something affordable and pick up the check.

My advice solicited a question from another reader who said she went out with a guy she met on a dating site. As she approached the register to pay for her meal at an Italian buffet, the guy, who'd already paid for his, gave her an annoyed look. He asked her if she expected him to pay.

She said this pretty much 'screamed' to her that he didn't like her even before they'd eaten lunch. She asked if I agreed. I agree. It's possible that he was protecting himself from being taken, but come on. What a turn-off!

Next.

And if he ever called again, I'd tell him thanks but no thanks.

If a guy's hitting dating sites and meeting several new women a week, it's going to get expensive if he pays for meals. If you agree to meet a fellow you met online, save yourself the trouble of a potentially awkward situation. Suggest you get together for coffee.

Then, if he turns out to be a graceless jerk who balks at paying for yours, tell the clerk you'll take it 'to go.'

When Are You Getting Married?

Is that the most annoying question, or what?

Wait a second. I'm wrong. It's, "Aren't you ever going to get married?"

This query tends to be posed by people who want you to believe they mean well, but if they meant well, they'd entertain the possibility that you're happy as you are and mind their own damn business.

The subtext to "Aren't you ever going to get married?" is, of course, that you must be a loser, hopelessly immature, or just so repulsive that you can't manage to attract another person to spend life with.

When I was single, I, too, had to fend off an unrelenting parade of clowns who wanted to know if I'd ever get married. I must say it required a good deal of fortitude to deal with them. After a while, I got the hang of looking an inquisitor straight in the eye and answering her question with a question.

"Why do you ask?" I'd inquire.

"Well, you're not getting any younger," came the reply.

"And neither are you," I'd say. "But I don't look quite so beaten down by life as you do now, do I?"

And that'd shut her up.

If you're getting heat to hook a live one, I beseech you to stay strong. A very good friend of mine caved into family pressure to give them the big day out, and she regretted it. Painfully regretted it. She's since divorced the guy and moved on, but she went through hell first.

Date leisurely.

If your goal is to meet and marry a wonderful person with whom you can spend a happy life, that's grand. Know what you want and hold out for it. In the meantime, don't let anybody--I don't care if it's your mother, your aunt, or the guy at the coffee truck--pressure you into picking out a china pattern before you're good and ready.

Because once you get married, whether it's to the right person or the wrong one, the same pests will come out of the woodwork to ask you, "Aren't you ever going to have a baby?"