Retirement from Dating

I was about to announce my retirement from dating. I reviewed the pictures of the date I was about to cancel.

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I changed my mind.

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Saturday night. He's driving from L.A. to meet me at Bandara, a local restaurant. He's bringing a bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay.

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My kind of guy is clever, witty, funny and confident. This man is none of the above. He's a soulful artist. But I'll let him buy me dinner.

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I am, after all, a very kind and generous woman.

He is incredibly handsome. I've never gone for those types. Mr. Personality is more my speed.

Fall in Love with Me and I'll Sue You.

This is Clark Kent. He's from L.A. We're going out Saturday. He's cute, sadly he sounds like "Alvin" from the Chipmunks.
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He's an artist. Oh and... jumping with glee, he KNOWS of the company, Mark z ware, I started with my friend...uh x-friend, Patrick. He was so impressed he could hardly speak.

My friend, uh x-friend, and a programmer and I started the company. Our main product was called "FlightCheck". It is a pre-press software tool that helps prepare digital files for print.

We started the company in my friends apartment. I was the only employee.

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I took the company from zero to several million in sales in less then a year. A call would come in, I would say, "please hold while I transfer you to customer service" and run into the guest bedroom, pick up the phone. The "beta testing department" was in the master bedroom. The "sales department" was in the kitchen. For "technical support" I'd put you on hold then pick up again.

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I would disguise my voice. It was hilarious. One day Patrick came home from work. Witnessing my antics he literally fell on the floor laughing. Then he joined in. We were running around to the different "departments" running into each other until tears were streaming down our faces.

I knew what to do. Ok, I bought a book called "How to Bring a Product to Market". Soon we had 10, 20, 30 employees. Opened a branch in Europe and still growing...

If you're a digital artist, even the term FlightCheck is legendary. Which begs the question, so why aren't you rich Charmaine?

Good question. Er, ah, I sued my partner for um love harassment. ha ha. I know, I HATE those chicks who went around suing their boss, after sleeping with him, for sexual harassment. But that wasn't me. Hell no. This was the REAL DEAL.

He was in love with me. Or so he thought, or so he said. Hell, I'd made him a millionaire.

He wouldn't leave me alone. He booked us into one (1) room for a trade show in Boston. I threw a fit. Later I ditched him during a bus tour of the city.

When we returned home he ripped the computer and phone from my office, demanded I move into HIS office declaring, "having NO computer and NO phone is NO excuse for lack of productivity". (That's professional retaliation for a broken heart.) It got worse.

He was the President, putting up the initial investment. I was just the work horse (VP of Sales.) I never signed the Partnership Agreement. Stupid. Stupid.

All I had to do was smile sweetly and I would be living in a mansion on the water. Instead I sued the bastard and won. But I lost in the long run.

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My medical and gynecological records were subpoenaed, H.S., College Transcripts, former room-mates interviewed, a Private Investigator hired. Pat read my gynecological records. I still remember the first question my attorney asked, "have you ever had a abortion?" Any indiscretion would be used to silence me. I didn't have any. I was the closest thing to the Virgin Mary these guys had ever seen.

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My case was so classic the Dean of Pepperdine Law School asked to tape the mediation as a learning module. (She offered 10K for the privilege). It was conducted in a gorgeous mansion overlooking the shimmering ocean in Malibu. I remember watching a pod of dophins swim by. The beauty of the surroundings belied the horror of what happening within. It was me, my attorney against a SEA of corporate attorneys seated at the other side of a long table. My lawyers leg was shaking.

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The funny thing is I didn't ask for money. I didn't want money. I just wanted to do my job. Patrick made that impossible. My attorney said he took my case because of my total lack of avarice. Then he begged and begged me to ask for more, but, you know me, I don't listen to anyone.

In exchange for dignity, I traded wealth. I have never paid a higher price for anything.

Personal Message to YOU.

Some of you are freaking out because I don't appear to be myself.

That's life. I don't have to kick every man in the ass 24/7. Okay I just did it about 30 seconds ago...don't change the subject.
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My sister, Briana, says YOU prefer to identify with the impervious, invulnerable ass-kicking Charmaine as opposed to the can-get-hurt-Charmaine.

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I'm not afraid of a little pain. Why are you?

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In conclusion, don't freak out just because I "let someone in" and he hurt me. (Truly people, I barely knew him.) But as my sister says, that's progress. I never allow ANYONE in. Not an inch. I have been magnificently loved so don't get me wrong. Still, I never let my guard down. I ran the show. Despite "having everything" (the house on the water, the Jag, everything money could buy and a man that loved me) I was not happy.

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In this quest for love you MUST allow yourself to be vulnerable and risk getting hurt. You can't outsmart love. He/it (whatever) knows what it's doing. Ha, as if I would go anywhere with any man who did not drag me by the hair into his cave kicking and screaming. See, I'm traditional AND modern. I like this about me.

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We need levity. PIRATE TATTOO PARTY at the Peterson's. Join me, won't you?
Of COURSE my 75 year old mother puts the tattoo on her chest. Where else?

Bumpy Ride

The Week in Review

1. The King left me at a restaurant. No one in the history of the WORLD ever did that to me. Despite my flaws, I'm considered quite "the catch".

Some of you kicked me in the arse after divulging "his" side. Remember, his side was a version...NOT necessarily true.

I was about to post something about missing "The Vern". As if on cue...

2. Vern's girlfriend emailed me to tell me she is pregnant.

(She asked me to remove my blog entries about him so her baby would not read negative things about his "daddy". )

Jesus. Did you know my blog was that ubiquitous? Me neither.

So the knocked-up girlfriend asked me to erase part of my life. How will she erase the fact that her kid's mother makes babies out of wedlock? Where's the delete button for THAT?

I guess I shouldn't judge.

I deleted posts about "The Vern" as requested. Me? Scar a child for life? Never.

So many people ask me to delete posts. It's funny. As if my blog is the BIBLE where all truth can be found. One friend asked me to stop referring to myself as a "whore" cuz his friends read my blog and he wants to marry me so when I say such things...it sends the "wrong message".

Please.

When I ended things with "The Vern" it tooks months to realize what I'd lost. I lost a man who truly loved me. But it wasn't meant to be.

His Side of the Story

There are two (2) sides to every story.

This is The King's version and why he left me at the restaurant:

When he went to the bathroom a couple of young guys sat at our table. When The King returned they did not leave. They were flirting with me.

I insisted on talking to the lads for a long while. The King was ready to leave. He walked over to the fire pit and waited for me to come to him, hence, giving me an "out" (a way to get away from the lads). I didn't take it. I stayed.

He tried again and moved over to a couch hoping I would come over to him. I didn't.

He says I made an intentional decision. I selected them over him. (He had bought me dinner and more then several Cakebread Chardonnays which adds up. He didn't say that. I'm saying that.)

The King was ready to go. He grabbed my purse and got the car.

He says he swung the car around to the curb. He said I demanded he get out and open my door. (I don't remember that but it could have happened. I mean, I might say that.)

After swinging around three times I refused to get in the car. He said he gave me back my purse. By that point I was standing with the young guys. He was fed up and left.

He said I could have called a cab. (I don't think I had my purse.) But that's what you get when your out all night drinking like a fish.

This balanced news coverage was brought to by the makers of Advil, my sponsor for obvious reasons. Hiccup.

King Lost his Crown

One minute you’re on a date and the next you’re hitch hiking.

I forgot to say The King was back. Down graded to “Produce Stock Boy” for reasons that will become apparent.

We went to Blue Fin for Sushi. I knew he liked me. Still, when he picked me up for dates he did not kiss me. He did not put his hand on my knee, tell me I looked nice…nothing. I'm not used to that. Later, of course, we would be making out.

Then we walked to Javier’s for Cinco De Mayo.

Everything was fine. We were kissing by then. I was aware I was doing something odd. I was talking about other men I’ve dated.

I thought I saw The Argentinean. The King followed him to the bathroom. A couple of young men started hitting on me. When the King returned the young men did not leave.

The King left for the car. I walked to the parking lot to wait. The two guys followed me. The King saw us, pulled around and sped off like a 17 year old. He was smiling.

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He left me there.

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The King had my purse. I was in a parking lot with two irritating young opportunists who reminded me of rapists. I had no money, no phone, could not call a cab. I let them drive me home. I was stranded.

I was nervous. There were two (2) of them and only one (1) of me.

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The King was okay with exposing me to danger.

Then he called today with the lamest apology ever and a different recollection of events. This makes it better, during his apology he breaks up with me and tells me he is not "in love" with me because leaving me stranded wasn't hurtful enough. He had to go for "The Gold".

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And the Gold Medal goes to the "Produce Stock Boy". Good job! (Sound of applause.)

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I could have hurt him in my sleep. I chose not to. That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is restrained power..in other words/manhood.

Middle Aged Bride

Not me. Scared ya.

I went to a Bridal Shower on Saturday. My friend is 41 years old. She's been trying to get her guy to marry her for 3 years.

She met him at a wedding. Afterwards he returned home to New Mexico. She called him and asked him to meet her in Phoenix (mid way for both.) She chased him. Within a month she found a job in his home town and happily installed herself in his house. I told her not too. You think I'M stubborn? This woman makes me look like a pansy.

After three (3) years of asking him for marriage (he declined) she started planning the wedding. She booked the venue and asked him to sign the contract.

He had not asked her. But he signed.

She bought the dress, picked out the ring...you get the picture. They are getting married next month.

But here's the thing.

She's having a blushing bride wedding, white dress et. al. She is going to wear a Tiara. A TIARA? a a

I dunno. To each his own. I wouldn't want a guy I had to lasso and drag down the aisle atop a white steed dressed like a cowgirl. She's talking about children. I had to suppress to urge to say, "So you're OK with having a Mongoloid"? You're eggs are old. Did you TAKE biology in college? How can you be so irresponsible? (But that would have been a party downer.)

Women today, have we lost our dignity? Further, are men the new women?