Paris Hilton Back In Jail

If you're here for dating advice, scroll down a bit. In the meantime, I have to get something off my chest.

The news media are incensed about Paris Hilton's latest statement:

"I must also say that I was shocked to see all of the attention devoted to the amount of time I would spend in jail for what I had done by the media, public and city officials. I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things like the men and women serving our country in Iraq and other places around the world."

The plastic coifs on TV laughed their heads off. "Since when is Paris Hilton interested in international affairs?" they scoffed.

Whether Miss Hilton's concern is genuine or not is beside the point. Like her or hate her, our men and women remain in Iraq. There are more important things going on in the world besides Paris Hilton.

Try telling that to NBC. The Today Show knuckleheads followed up an in-depth segment on the girl's incarceration (featuring former Westchester County DA Jeanine Pirro and TV psychologist Dr. Keith Ablow) with breaking news about British women discovering a cure for wrinkles.

Dating Tips For the Shy Woman

People who meet me today can't believe I used to be freakishly shy. In fact, I spent the first part of my freshman year of high school learning how to make eye contact with other humans. Now, there are days when I'm still shy, but I've gotten better at hiding it.

Shyness is paralysis. It holds you back from getting what you deserve in life. A lot of the time, people don't even realize you're terrified of talking to them and saying the wrong thing. They just assume you're a filthy snob, and that makes things worse.

Especially if you want to meet a person to spend the rest of your life with.

If you're shy and ready to get over it, I've written an article that may help. Click here to check it out.

Make Them Show You the Love

Sure, you have to love yourself if you want to attract excellent men. But this helps, too: Only do business with people who love you, or at least treat you with the consideration you deserve.

This became clear to me yesterday. We've been busy with my father-in-law's wake and funeral over the past few days, which required us to eat in various restaurants. We met Peter's family for a quick bite before the wake on Thursday at the Bayside Diner, where our waiter smiled, made eye contact, and gave the impression that he wanted us to enjoy ourselves.

In Bayside yesterday, we hit another diner for lunch. Despite our attempts to engage our waiter as a human being, he didn't look up from his pad, plunked our plates on the table, and gave the impression that he couldn't care less if we got stabbed in the parking lot.

Food always tastes better when it's served with a smile, and ours hadn't been. I left the diner feeling strangely unsatisfied and unloved.

As I got to the car, I remembered an incident from a year ago at the Pig and Whistle, an Irish pub near my father's in Manhattan. A pack of regulars had lodged themselves at the bar to get roaring drunk. And they were roaring, let me tell you. You couldn't hear much besides them.

I felt uncomfortable. I'd suggested that our group go there in the first place and built the place up as a good spot for fish and chips and a pint of Guinness, but the crowd at the bar threatened to ruin the evening.

And then the manager made his way to our table. He introduced himself and asked if we were tourists enjoying our stay in New York. I told him my father and his friend lived nearby, and we'd just stopped in for dinner. He didn't apologize for the behavior of the people at the bar, but you could tell that he was concerned that they'd killed our chances for a good time. He impressed us to no end.

Face it, if we'd walked out in a huff, why should he care? The place is crowded at lunch and jammed to the rafters at dinner. He didn't need us. But he went out of his way to consider our feelings. Of course we went back. Which diner do you think I'll visit the next time I go to Bayside?

I've made it my policy to support businesses that support me, and I suggest you do the same. If your dry cleaner sneers when you ask to pick up your shirts a day early, find someone who'll do it cheerfully. Avoid supermarket checkers who delight in blasting your eggs with jumbo bottles of Tide. If you have to, wait on longer lines for better service.

Surround yourself with people who treat you as you would treat them -- in every aspect of your life.

What does this have to do with dating? It has everything to do with dating. When you expect people--even strangers-- to treat you well, you become accustomed to being treated well.

Then you attract men who treat you well.

Make sense?

Jealousy Hurts

It gives you a big pain in your stomach, for one thing. It also repels decent men and attracts controlling jerks like a magnet.

Stop worrying about a guy's old girlfriends, the beautiful oncologist who takes care of his father, and anyone happens to be thinner than you. Never compare yourself to anybody but yourself.

When you're with a man, your attitude has to be, "I'm a great girl, and you'd be lucky to have me."

Are You Ready For Love?

Take this fun quiz to find out. It's an eye-opener!

I met its author, Ronnie Ann Ryan, at a meeting last January, and we've become friends. I'd read several of her articles over the years and admired her approach to men and dating. At the age of 40, she decided she was ready for lasting love, set out to get it, and succeeded. Now she's showing other women how to do it in her ebook, Manifesting Mr. Right.

Which definitely beats manifesting Mr. Wrong.

In other news, my father-in-law's wake begins tonight. The past week has been a blur of visits to and from relatives, and our house is loaded with pleasant overnight guests.

Off to iron my daughter's dress. Does she have tights without a hole in them? May have to run out and get a fresh pair.

Martha Stewart clearly doesn't live in this house!

I just heard that Paris Hilton was sprung from the pokey after doing three measly days of her sentence. Wow. Why couldn't authorities just give her community service and leave the rest of us out of it?

My Problem With Isaac Mizrahi For Target

Warning: The following is another of the author's opinions on things that have absolutely nothing to do with dating. If you're here for dating advice, slide down the page a bit.

Went to Target the other day. Target is the kind of place best approached with your eyes closed. You can't help wanting everything you see. A gorgeous aqua twill party dress by Isaac Mizrahi caught my eye immediately.

I love Isaac Mizrahi. The man knows how to design for a woman's body, particularly this particular woman's imperfect body. The dress in question hung from the rack fetchingly. It spoke to me.

It said, "Terry, if you buy me, I will make you beautiful."

Standing there in my jeans that emphasize the wretched lump beneath my navel (actually, all jeans emphasize the lump beneath my navel), I knew the dress told the truth. Just like the A-line skirt I bought from the Isaac collection a couple of years ago (for, like, $24), the dress would erase all lumpenness from my physique. I would look absolutely smashing in it.

The price tag read $29. A rumble went off in my head, echoing the thundering in my heart: I - have to - have this - dress! I - have to - have this - dress!

And then a small voice said, "But Terry, you don't have any place to wear it."

And the dress countered, "But, I know you, Terry. You'll find a place to wear it."

And I thought to myself, that dress knows me better than my own mother.

So I took the dress off the rack and held it against me, like a boyfriend you love just a little bit more every time you look at him.

I picked at the label inside the dress and read the washing instructions.

I decided I could live with them.

But then I saw the dreaded words, the phrase that makes me shake down to my heels:

MADE IN CHINA.

And I knew I had to say goodbye to my beautiful dress. Because it's made in China, it's possible that somebody else's kid, maybe the same age as my kid, sat for hours upon hours without a bathroom break and perhaps a beating or two, sewing a dress that would make me feel good about myself for a couple of hours. She was paid about twenty-five cents a hour for her trouble.

I wonder why Target won't pay Americans (or fairly treated allies) to manufacture their beautiful things. I'd have paid twice or three times the price for that garment, and you would have too, if you'd seen it.

It killed me to return my beloved dress to the rack. It hated turning my back on it and walking away.

But I did it. I had to.

Cheating A-Rod Only Fools Himself

In the interests of full disclosure, I'm not a Yankees fan. I grew up in Flushing, New York, the home of The Mets.

But the reports about A-Rod, this professional athlete who has gained a reputation for cheating on his wife, intrigue me. This morning, Good Morning America asked why the very attractive Cynthia Rodriguez remains loyal to a man who allegedly text messages strippers from across the country when he isn't dating them.

I'll tell you what I'd do if I were married to A-Rod. I'd tell him not to let the door hit him on his way out. Yeah, I know he makes a lot of money, but who cares? Money can't buy respect, and I couldn't respect a dude who carries on like that. It's just sad.

I'd take comfort in the fact that, since strippers don't come cheap, it won't be long before A-Rod is a fat, washed-up MLB player who blew a fortune paying women who couldn't care less about him for their company. I'd very quietly shut the door, raise my child with dignity, and move on to better things.

What disturbs me most about the A-Rod drama? It perpetuates the myth that all men are compelled to cheat. In other words, Cynthia may be lovely, but she's just one woman. One woman's never enough for a major league no-neck like A-Rod.

Nonsense.

Check out this Boston Red Sox fan's fascinating take on the matter.