Category Archives: Dating/Relationships

Dude…do you realize you’re driving Barbie’s car?

The first time I was introduced (and road in) a Miata was when they first hit the scene in the early 90’s. I was in Germany visiting my family and as a visiting American (especially at the time) you’re a total dude magnet. I can’t even remember where I met Walter (probably some beer or wine fest) but he quickly asked me out & wanted to take to the nearby big city to have coffee & go shopping (hmmm-first clue).

As he drove up to my Oma & Opa’s house I was a little taken back…”Holy shit – he’s driving Barbie’s car!” He pops out of his car looking like a, “Ralph Lauren,” ad. Khaki’s, crisp white shirt, sweater over shoulders, perfect raven floppy hair. My next thought was… “Hmm – I wounder if Walter knows he’s gay.”

Needless to say we had LOTS of fun. Shopping, driving, laughing & listening to “Corona’s Rhythm of the Night”. Nothing happened w/Walter except a few “hand on knee attempts & one surprise attack kiss that hit my nose awkwardly ” to test the water but I couldn’t deny him his real self and kept it platonic. I’m happy to say, a few years later when visiting again, he introduced me to his boyfriend as the most “Super American,” alive.

So every time I see that car I’m fondly reminded of Walter sporting “Barbie’s Ride,” and one of the best dates I’ve ever had 🙂

– Kate


Your Pheromones make me nuts!

I’ve got a thing about smells. Something’s jacked up in my sinuses that has given me a hyper sense of smell ever since I could remember. Which makes it a blessing & a curse. Blessing when I walk into a bakery or Pizzeria in Italy and curse when I walk into a smelly locker room.

People smells are something that have gotten worse in the last few years, which has really put a damper on my dating life. I’m not a cologne kinda gal. It gives me a sore throat within minutes. I like my men fresh & clean from the shower.

The “smell thing,” was big a few years ago when I dated two men back-to-back. First came “Crazy Johnny.” John was in finances, I’m convinced bi-polar, and a total…hmmm – what’s a good word for him? Not asshole – he was more of a “prick.” Although handsome, he totally wasn’t my type. Short, cocky & in much need of a “mute,” switch. The guy was hilarious – I do give him that. His bizarre behavior was that of hit sitcoms.

On our first date I was already planning my escape, 10 min. in. But then we went outside to appease the “nicotine gods” & next thing I know, he make’s his move. WOW – I haven’t had a good make-out like that in YEARS! Hand holding head, soft lips & just the right of shiver down my spine. And his smell…

What the right pheromones will make a girl do. He would just kiss my forehead & it would make me want to “pass-out.” Tingles of joy & excitement sparked by a single peck. Of course he would say something “pricky,” 5 min. later & whitewash that dreamy feeling, but I didn’t care. I was addicted & pheromones were my crack.

What came next was a realization how people mistake “pheromones,” for love. When I was with him I was like, “Wow – I could totally tell this guy I love him,” but I was fully conscious that I didn’t & it this was all biological. There was no love there. How could there be? We argued all the time. Like teenage lover’s after the basketball game. No there was just pheromones & addiction. At 38 years old I realized, this is the stuff that turns into what I call “crazy love.” I had to break the addiction.

Luckily it ended as quickly as it started & I was actually saved by a “true prince charming.” A man who was probably one of the best boyfriend’s I’ve had in recent years. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the right “pheromones,” and what came after was a lesson in what happens when you can’t make-up your mind about what you want in a relationship….but that’s a story for another day 😉




You’re a 7…

One of my ex-boyfriend’s asked me one day, “What number do you think I am?” (Hmmm, should I go down this road?) “What do you mean babe?” (I knew EXACTLY what he was asking). “Ya know – number, what do you think I am. This gal at work said I’m a 7.” Before I knew it I just blurted out, “Yeah – that’s about right.” Oh Lord, I knew he was going to protest this one.

BF: What!

Me: Yeah – that’s about right…Well, what did you think you were?

BF: …9

(oooohhh Lord! Please help this guy)

What followed was a lengthy discussion about peoples numbers. I told him there were many things you had to factor in. How you looked for your age group? What kind of person you are? How do you present yourself? Personally I don’t care how good looking you are – if you’re an ass, you’ll never be a 10. Also, to me, it’s kind of like the “Richter Scale,” starting at about 8. The higher you get, the stronger the magnitude. Anything above an 8 turns heads wherever they go. And you rarely see a 9 or 10 in the wild.

Then it got me thinking about his number again – a 7. He’s not really a 7. If I thought about it he was more of 5! Sure he was cute, a cross between Morrissey & Roger Federer, but he was a bit of  “douche.” I couldn’t bring him out in public much because you never knew what would come out of his mouth. Who he would offend or who HE’d be offended by. You know the guy. The guy that knows better than everyone & would tell you every 5 min. how awesome he was. He did have “mad skills,” in other areas but that will only get you so far before the novelty wears off. And I knew, for sure, he wasn’t the one. Needless to say, I broke it off a short time after this conversation.

I’ve been out with men far less attractive but treated everyone they met with respect and kindness, which makes them a 10 in my eyes. That & they need to “smell” right to me, but my bloodhound nose is for another time.

Back to our conversation.

BF: Really, you think a 7?

Me: Yeah – sure…

BF: What about you? What’s your number?

Me: (long pause) …27  😉




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