Act Like A Man ... So I Can Date You

Recently I watched a promotional interview for Steve Harvey’s new book, “Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man.” The advice Harvey gives encompasses straight forward, frank discussions on dating strategies for women. It wasn’t rocket science, mostly common sense. Sadly common sense isn’t quite as common as I once thought, so I guess it was inevitable that someone would write a book about the dangers of “putting out” too early on in a dating relationship. Harvey refers to this element a woman possesses as “the cookie.”

Keep your eye on the cookie.




For the sake of clarity, first of all, let’s define “man.” Here are some that I googled. A few of them made me laugh:



An adult male servant; also, a vassal; a subject.

A term of familiar address often implying on the part of the speaker some degree of authority.

A male human endowed with qualities, such as strength, considered characteristic of manhood.

Now let’s define “lady”:



A woman, especially when spoken of or to in a polite way.

A woman to whom a man is romantically attached.

A woman regarded as proper and virtuous.

And finally …

The attributes of a great lady may still be found in the rule of the four S's: Sincerity, Simplicity, Sympathy, and Serenity. - Emily Post

Following Harvey’s book introduction ladies then spoke on “the cookie.” A woman being interviewed who has integrated Harvey’s philosophy with her own, equated the children’s book, “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” to the sex and dating philosophy.



For those of you not familiar, the story goes like this:

If you give a mouse a cookie,
He’s going to ask you for a glass of milk.
When you give him the milk,
He’ll probably ask you for a straw.

… Ultimately the mouse ends up taking a nap and repeating his list of requests …

Keep your eye on the cookie.





A couple nights after seeing this book review I watched “How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days” … again. It too is a common sense set of ideas regarding what men hate when it comes to dating, only it’s taken to the extreme to add to the humorous effect. If you haven’t seen this chick flick I highly suggest you place it at the top of your movie rental list.

I love Kate Hudson! And what woman would pass up two endless hours of staring and drooling over Matthew McConaughey, some of the time without his shirt?

It is important to know that in this movie, the character Andy, played by Kate Hudson, doesn’t give up the cookie, but the competition element is present as Ben, played by Matthew McConaughey, competes for a professional advancement based on that dating relationship. In other words, there’s a prize at stake … although it’s not the cookie.



So, what do I think? Stop reading now unless you REALLY want to know, but remember: Always keep your eye on the cookie.

As I said previously, one of the premises of Harvey’s “Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man,” is that women give up “the cookie” too early in a dating relationship, and men have no reason to stick around. He suggests being in a dating relationship for ninety-days before having sex. He explains that when we begin a new job we typically have a ninety-day waiting period before benefits are available to us and states that sex in a relationship should be a high-stakes benefit.

As we all know, one-night-stands are fairly easy to come by, if that’s what you’re looking for. Most guys will at least try to get you into bed on the first date. By the second date, if they try and fail, there’s not likely to be a third date. Most of us don’t handle rejection well and hearing, “No” three times for a man can be equated to a baseball strike-out. Who wants to set themselves up for that?

Steve Harvey says, “Slow down ladies. You can’t run us off.” I’m afraid he’s wrong. You can, in fact, run a man off by not giving him sex. As Steve Harvey says, “Women now require less of men than they used to.” What he fails to mention is that men are quite aware that if you won’t put out there’s very likely another woman out there that would be happy to. Certainly, if the man is interested enough in you, he’ll continue to pursue you, even while they’re getting “the cookie” from someone else. But why would you want to be the milk to someone else’s cookie? *shrug*

Harvey’s book is full of useful information to apply to relationships … a whole buffet of pastries, so to speak.

Sometimes I wonder if I expect too much in my pursuit of a loving relationship. Are my standards too high? Does successful dating require us to lower our standards?

For an excerpt from Steve Harvey’s Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man: Chapter/Topic “We Need To Talk,” and Other Words That Make Men Run For Cover, click here.

For a synopsis of the first ten chapters, click here.

I only have three pre-dating requirements/deal breakers that I evaluate before making a date with someone. My list used to be longer, but that was before I weeded out the superficial stuff and realized what was really important for me to feel happy in a relationship:

1. Is he single?
2. Does he have a job?
3. Am I attracted to him?

After the preliminary qualifications are met there are four things I look for to determine whether or not there will be a date number two:

1. Does he have a sense of humor?
2. Could he engage intellectually, contribute to a conversation, and hold his own in a battle of wits?
3. Is there sexual chemistry?
4. Does he make the effort to maintain contact with me, demonstrate that he is thinking about me even when we are not together, and somehow want to factor me into his life (phone calls, text messages, email, visits/dates)?

As many of you know, in my Dating Experience 9,999,9999 series (Part I, II, and III)   Mr. Hot Rod met the first three qualifications and so a date number two occurred. Meeting the first three second date qualifiers is so rare that I was almost willing to overlook number four, but I didn’t. For those of you wondering about Mr. Hot Rod, I have seen him a couple of times since I last blogged, but the jury is still out and I’m approaching it more as another Experimental Experience only with a dating spin, rather than a hopeful relationship situation.

Nonetheless, it’s critical for me to know where I stand with someone before I put myself out there emotionally, physically, and especially sexually.

Do men and women really communicate that differently regarding life and love? We all remember this, don’t we?

So, ladies and gents, what’s your definition of “a man”? How about “a lady”? Do you expect enough when you date? Do men and women really approach dating differently? How do you communicate what you want to a man you are dating without coming across as “high maintenance”?


I’ve been dating for what seems an eternity! I’m exhausted!!! If Mr. Right exists where the hell is he?
Hugs, happy dating, thanks for reading, and keep your eye on the cookie!!! ;p



Read more: http://www.myspace.com/katina_aka_ace/blog#ixzz12kCwduUQ

Intersquad - Go MadDog!!! - You ROCK!!!

Yesterday was MadDog’s intersquad. For those of you not familiar with USA Gymnastics, that’s a practice session/meet held prior to competition season every year. The girls come fully dressed for competition, with hair following governing standards, and they perform the routines they’ve prepared for competition before a panel of judges. Each gymnast must score an eight or better in each event in order to compete.



Yesterday was one in a series of crazy days for me. I flew down the freeway like a bat out of hell praying to God for no ticket travel passage to the gym. Prayer answered. Thank you God!

As I walk into the gym my eyes lock on my lovely daughter. The girls are warmed up and sitting on one of the beams in the gym in their beautiful red, white, and blue leos. Although they all look the same, one of them stands out like no other. She notices me and flashes me the most beautiful smile that melts my heart. I try not to be sappy and choke back tears. I’m so proud of her I get the shivers. I had told my parents about the intersquad and how important it was and they’ve already arrived.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Satan across the gym. He’s on his mobile phone and pacing madly, as he always does. Even when he shows up physically, he doesn’t really show up, if you know what I mean. I choose to ignore him and huddle with my parents and the other proud parents who have mentally and emotionally checked in to support their children. Demitri is not there. Satan had him go to his step-sister’s basketball practice instead of bringing him to this important event. I’m bothered.

As I look around the gym, there are plenty of familiar faces and some new ones; likely divorced parents who have decided to play nice with each other for the best interest of their children, at least for today. I’ve met some wonderful people through all of this. Those who choose to get to know me in spite of the rumors usually end up building wonderful friendships with me. It’s kind of funny. None of them talk to Satan. He usually ostracizes himself. Evil tends to either push people away or suck them in.



I watch as the girls begin their beam routines. I clap and cheer them all on. It’s tough getting out in front of so many people in nothing more than your panties. Leos ride up, your cheeks hang out, and you can’t do anything about it, except smile and rock on.



During about the fifth routine a girl performs her leap. Trying to land it her foot misses the beam, the momentum of her body forces her forward, and she falls face first onto the mat beneath. My heart stops. I stand immediately and prepare to run to the floor to scoop her up in my arms. Watching these girls put their hearts and souls out there and miss a skill they’ve successfully performed hundreds of times breaks my heart. I don’t care whose kid it is. You learn to care about all of them. She isn’t physically injured. The coach lets her sit out until all of the girls have finished their beam routines and then lets her try again. She’s successful this time and relieved!

Madison approaches the beam, salutes the judge, and again I get shivers.



She’s perfect, she’s beautiful, she’s strong, she’s amazing, she’s mine.

I can tell she’s a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Besides, a little bit of the nervous jitters helps keep you going sometimes. Her biggest fear was falling off. As she performs my heart is racing. Although she was a bit cautious during her performance, she completes her routine without missing a beat. She again salutes the judge with a huge smile on her face!

Next is floor, then vault, then bars. I’m as nervous as I usually am during meets. The team sits down with the judge who passes out their score cards and then dismisses them. Mads walks directly towards my mother and me grinning from ear to ear, says, “My family!” hugs us, and hands me her score card. She successfully scores on all the apparatus with room to spare (highest score on beam, lowest on floor). I couldn’t be more proud!

Last year MadDog (nicknamed by her coach) only competed on trampoline, winning one first, two second, and one third place medals. (I will continue to post photos from her meets, although they’ll be a bit dark as no flash photography is allowed at meets.)



This year she will shine on all events. Peace, love, and much success to my baby girl, my angel, half of my heart. We watch, we wait, we breathe, we love … and we shall see a beautiful flower unfold.

I look forward to sharing this journey with you.

Thanks for reading!

Mean People Suck

Sadly, that’s the majority of the population; or maybe it’s just that the few that are cruel stand out so much that you can’t get them out of your head … or your heart.

During Girl Scouts today my son told me he had spoken with the guardian ad litem (GAL) and told him that he only wanted to spend two days with his daddy and the rest of time with Mommy. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing. I feel the tears welling up yet again as I type. It would have been nice to know about this little meeting so I could have attended. Apparently I’m not a factor that needs to be considered. Fuckers. Both the GAL and Satan can rot in hell.



Just in case they’re reading I have a little message to pass on, “Back the fuck off and don’t interrogate my children, trying to get them say something negative about their mother when I’m not doing anything wrong. It causes them irreparable emotional harm and for that you will pay. Karma is a bitch and so am I."

The son of a bitch GAL was ordered by the state office to reinitiate contact with me well over a year ago. He still hasn’t. I guess that’s what happens when a private GAL is supposed to be assigned so as to not create a conflict of interests based on Satan’s employer, but instead they assign the brother of a state representative to the case. Did I mention Satan works for the state? Yep … the court system.

My daughter later told me that she saw the GAL flipping through a file that had papers in it that looked like my MySpace page. A couple of years ago Satan took me to court to try to get me to take my page down because I had posted this picture of my family:



He said I was using my kids to bate men. Yep, that’s exactly what every man is looking for, a chick with two kids. Idiot. I made my page private to keep him off it. Feel free to take a look at ALL of the pictures of my kids. They’re beautiful and they have beautiful hearts! God bless them! Don’t miss the slide shows!





Prior to going to court I searched the web and found a photo site where Satan's mother had posted tons of pictures of the grandkids. One in particular was a crotch shot of my daughter on the playground. I don't think she meant any harm by posting the photo, but it was a hell of a lot more dangerous and made her more vulnerable to predators than the family photo I had posted. Besides, I'm her mother. I printed the photo and held it up in court explaining my point. The picture was soon after taken down.

I often wonder if some people have hearts. Not physiologically speaking, but compassion, true matters of the heart. The kind of true concern for humanity or any other living creature besides themselves. You know the kind. Don’t you?



When you see a hurt child and want to shed a tear, but don’t so you can help them and make them feel reassured due to your profound strength. They need that. You kind of hope it inspires them to do the same for others. We all need to feel like we matter to someone, if only for a time. The kind of true concern that makes you gasp out loud when you see a stray dog while driving in the car and you practically stop traffic to either get the creature safely in your vehicle or at least scurry it out of the road so it doesn’t get hit. Some of us still do this sort of thing; yes? If you don’t you should. I’m not saying you should put yourself in a position of danger, although some of us do, but you should give a damn. I do. Sadly, I do. It hurts to feel helpless, but hopeful.



Some people take advantage of your kindness. Others learn your weak spots and go for the jugular each time they see you a bit weak.



At least that’s what happens when you allow someone to really know you. You open yourself up to that. They can always use it against you, and some of them do. We’re all weak at times. Aren’t we?

I think sometimes I get so tired that I look people in the eye with an expression on my face that says, “What the hell do you want?” I don’t mean to, but I can’t hide the way I feel. It takes too much effort and I’m beat. Besides who want to be phony? Love me or hate me, but for God’s sake do it with passion, and maybe a little bit of class!



Why should someone have to live in fear of someone hurting them? It’s wrong. Deep down the threat of being hurt can be crippling. Sometimes it seems safe to hide away. Be a bitch. Don’t let anyone in. That gets lonely and I would know this well.

Peer into your soul, see into your own eyes, feel your heart, and keep your hands off others hearts if you only seek to squeeze the blood from it and feel the pleasure of the warmth running down your arm. The world doesn’t need anymore people like this. Of this I’m sure.

I’ve never hated anyone before. Not until Satan anyway. I hope that man dies a slow painful death and I get to watch. If that ever happens please bring me a dirty martini, pull up a chair, and bring the olive jar for our viewing pleasure. A video recorder would be nice as well so I can watch it again and again.



Thanks for reading.

Dating Experiment 9,999,999 - Part III

Here's the update. This is what's happened after date number two on Friday night.

The following Saturday Mr. Hot Rod comes into work looking for me. He couldn't find me and called because he knew I was there somewhere. We meet up, chit chat, and part with a hug.

Sunday Mr. Hot Rod comes into work again and gives me a little push as he walks up behind me. I, of course push him back, tell him I was just going on a break, and ask if he wants to come with me. He does. I meet him at the back of the building, he pulls his car up, gets out and sits outside on a bench with me.

We talk about what he might be doing later, what I might be doing after work, and I told him if he's still up when I'm off and wants to meet for a drink to give me a call, but he says he may call it an early night with work the next day. I say, "Well, I won't call and wake you up." He says, "If I'm sleeping I just don't pick up." Then he follows that with, "Well you know I won't call so you might want to." We laugh again.

After a short chat, thinking mischievously, not about the walking to the car thing, but having other thoughts in mind, I do in fact walk him to his car and tell him to get in. He looks at me, laughs, and says, "Are you putting me in my car?" To which I respond, "Something like that." With my back to the car I slide in on his lap. He looks a little nervous. I ask if he's ever driven like this before. He says, "A long time ago, but the guy was hard to hold on to." We laugh, I give him a quick kiss, wipe my lipstick off his mouth with my fingers, get out, head to the door, and turn to wave goodbye.



I think to myself, "What a cute approach. How can he resist that?"

I didn't hear from the bastard for 2 ½ weeks, other than a few non-committal emails. I mean, I know he went home for Christmas for a week, but come on already! Finally he calls me somewhere between 11 and 12 p.m. He said he figured I'd be just getting off work and he just wanted to say, "Hey." I said, "Well, Hey." He didn't try to make a date, didn't ask what my schedule was like, didn't say, "Gosh I'd like to see you." There are a lot of things he didn't say.

He did mention he was having surgery to laser open his nasal cavities and have tubes put in his ears for drainage in a couple of days. Of course, being a mother I had to drown him in questions:

"How are you getting there? How are you getting home? Is anyone staying with you after the surgery?" He's not really close to anyone here. Big surprise, huh?

I offered to get him safely to and from surgery. At first he said he didn't like to ask anyone to do anything for him, but after I told him he wasn't asking and I was simply offering, he accepted.

I call him the night before to confirm what time I'm picking him up. He sounded stressed due to his pending surgery. I told him I might stop by after work to say, "Hello." He accepts and then calls later that night while I'm working to cancel, sighting being nervous about surgery as his excuse. What's up with that? At this point I'm thinking I could show up naked at his front door and the guy wouldn't have a clue what to do.

I arrive the next morning to take him to surgery, get him safely inside and registered, hug him goodbye, and tell the nurse to kick his ass if he doesn't behave.

Later I get a call from the clinic that he's in recovery and I can come pick him up. When I get there the nurse comes to take me back; I hesitate for a minute and decide to pour myself a cup of coffee because it's been my experience that men are kind of wimpy when they're sick and I'm guessing we're going to be there for awhile. Thank God I left my kids with my mother. It's a good thing I was prepared. When I get to recovery Mr. Hot Rod is cold on his back with blood running down his face on mega-strong drugs.

With blood on my hands, at one point I do decide to say, "I think now is a good time to ask if you have any infectious diseases I need to know about."



He's a six-foot-four cry baby and I'm there for three-and-a-half hours, literally wiping his nose. Blood is pouring down his face and his neck is sore from the surgery. I, of course, rub his neck, hold his hand, keep him covered with blankets, and feed him ice chips and coke.

The nurses tell him over and over again what a sweet-heart I am to take care of him. He says nothing. I wonder what he's thinking?

At one point his whining was kind of getting to me, so I lean over the railing of his bed, look him deep in the eyes and say softly, "Do you know that if men had to have babies the entire human species would die out?" The nurse laughs her ass off. He utters a little chuckle. It is true though; isn't it ladies?

Maybe they did the wrong procedure on him.



They try to get him up to wheel him to the bathroom. He's dizzy and gets nauseous. This just keeps getting better and better; doesn't it? I help him dress and quickly call my housemate to have her throw my sheets in the wash so I have a place to put him. I can't in good conscious leave him home alone unable to care for himself. I figured I'd sleep with my daughter for the night. I tell him I'm taking him home with me. He wants to go to his place, so that's exactly where I take him. I drop him off, get him settled on the couch with pillows and a blanket, and run to Walgreen's to fill his prescriptions. He gives me his debit card and his PIN. Upon my return I tell him I spent $500 at the mall. He says, "Okay." I wonder if he ever checked his bank statement???

Before I leave his place I line all his medications up, put drops in his ears, rub them in, fix him a piece of toast, and tell him to answer his phone when I call because I will be checking on him. He said he would as long as he wasn't sleeping. I say, "Answer it even if you're sleeping or I'll send the paramedics over to your apartment." Without fail, he answers each time I call for the next couple of days, but one day he doesn't answer. I show up at his door. When he answers I say, "Good. You're alive. Bye." and start to leave. He invites me in and thanks me for checking on him.

On the drive home from the clinic he thanks me repeatedly for taking care of him. He continues to thank me each time we speak.

Monday he had the packing taken out of his nose and was a miserable mess. Yesterday he asks to stop by. He does and we visit for a little while. Again, he tells me to call him, followed by, "You know I only go to work and then home, so I'm never doing anything." I tell him he can call me if he wants to see me, ask what my schedule is like, and plan a time to get together. He says, "Like I never call you."

I say, "You don't." He tells me he has weekend warrior duty coming up and maybe we can get together one night during the weekend. I'm not holding my breath for a phone call.

Remember his car I wrote about?

Here's a better picture of it. Too bad he doesn't know how to drive. ;p



I hope he has fun with that car.

Drive away son ... drive away FAST!



I had a date last night with K****, a very cute Captain I met while renewing my ID badge on the base last week. I have a date Thursday with R*****, a sickeningly cute Master-Sergeant from the base who can always make me laugh. K**** and R***** know how to use a telephone. Yay for them! They've done their mother's proud! I'd sure like to have a chat with R***'s mother. If she ever tried to teach him how to court a woman, something apparently got lost in the communication.



Ladies and Gents, what kind words would you tell Mr. Hot Rod upon his next contact. Would you even bother seeing him again? I didn't help him out for any kind of pay-off, but wouldn't it be cordial to ask to buy me a drink or take me to dinner? I'm quite sure I'll hear from him … although it could very well be weeks.