Channeling Aphrodite

AphroditePhoto Credit: Dusty Wasp, Trapdoor Studios


Last month, I had the pleasure of attending Marianne Williamson’s Aphrodite training. I’ve probably heard Marianne speak hundreds of times by now, but I still cried when she walked on stage looking like a total goddess. There was such an exciting and intense energy in the room, and I felt beyond grateful to be in attendance with so many incredible women, many who had crossed oceans to be there.

Over the weekend, Marianne spoke in-depth about what it means to really embody the Greek Goddess of love and sexuality. The Goddesses are all archetypes, or inner patterns, that most women can relate to and use to better understand their own desires and tendencies. Aphrodite has always been the goddess I most identify with. I’m a Scorpio, so love and sensuality are my jam!

Just like Aphrodite, I love to be in love! If I could design my perfect life, it would, of course, include being madly in love, writing books, and traveling the world with the man of my dreams. I’m a person craves adventure and excitement over tradition. I was never that girl dreaming of my wedding day, so I don’t relate to Hera, the Goddess of Marriage, who only cares about finding a husband and feels incomplete without a spouse. Maybe someday I’ll fall in love and meet a man who will change everything, but the truth is, I’ve always felt as though perhaps I was missing a girl gene since I don’t have a strong desire to have children. In that respect, Demeter, the maternal goddess, who only wants a man to make a baby, definitely isn’t my archetype. And as a woman who despises housework and doesn’t have a domestic bone in her body, I’m hardly Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, who loves to keep house. However, as a girl who always received praise from my father for getting good grades, I will say, I do have a little Athena (the Goddess of Wisdom) in me. Athena is the “father’s daughter,” with a strategist’s mind and a strong desire to achieve.

Although I definitely embodied Athena in school, Aphrodite has been the dominant archetype throughout my life. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to wear make-up and dress sexy. I even remember wanting to wear an off-the-shoulder dress to my first Holy Communion. As soon I hit puberty, I became total jailbait, enjoying the attention I received from grown men. Now that I think of it, it was probably the Athena in me that kept me focused and out of trouble.

After college, Aphrodite totally took over. For years, all I cared about was being in love and having fun! Just like me, Aphrodite is wild! She loves to play. She loves love. She loves romance and passion. Aphrodite falls in love often and she falls in love easily. It is said that Aphrodite seeks out emotional intensity and adventure over permanence, which answers the question I get all the time, why am I still single.

Unfortunately, Aphrodite isn’t always understood or accepted, especially in certain religions and cultures (even in Western culture). A couple years ago, I was dating a man from the Middle East. When we broke up, he tried to “whore-shame” me, telling me he wished I could be like his mother and his sister, who each had only been with one man their entire lives, which wasn’t unusual for his culture. Early on in the relationship, a girlfriend of mine had warned me, “Amy, you love to be wild! You will never fit into a Middle Eastern household.” I tend not to over-generalize about an entire ethnicity, but it’s true, the two of us did experience a bit of a culture clash. While the notion of having been with only one man my whole life is sweet, I suppose, it’s a tad unrealistic at my age. Aphrodite is not exactly a virgin goddess, after all.

However, after that relationship, Aphrodite, as Marianne would put it, “stayed in her temple.” It wasn’t that I agreed with this man’s point of view or that I was ashamed of my Aphrodite. I love this part of myself! However, I felt this man had been so cruel to me during this break-up (he was a Scorpio, just like me….and Scorpios sting when they are hurt) that I decided I needed to be more careful about the men I let into my life. In the past, I noticed a pattern that I usually (not even consciously) take three-month intervals between boyfriends. After this boyfriend, I was celibate for six whole months, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Aphrodite isn’t going to mess with just anybody. She will only appear to men she deems worthy.

Being a highly sensitive individual, I was really shaken by that break-up. It wasn’t a coincidence that around this time that I took the book I was writing off the market. If someone who knew me on a deep level, someone I had given my heart to, had judged me so harshly, I wondered how strangers would perceive me. I felt maybe I had shared too much, that perhaps the memoir was just a little too personal. I even deleted the entire blog I was writing at the time, which had also been problematic in my relationship. I decided I didn’t want to be an open book anymore.

Before I continue, I do want to say that I feel a bit ashamed I let someone get the best of me like that. The man for me is going to be able to handle both my Aphrodite and the fact I write dating columns. Thank goodness, the universe self-corrected and put me back on track!

Six months after that breakup, I met a man, who, in the twinkle of an eye, made Aphrodite want to come out and play again. We only saw each other for six months, but Aphrodite was back in full effect during that time. I always feel more beautiful, happier, and more like myself when I’m embodying this goddess, but once again, she’s back in her temple–and has been for the last six months. (I’m not sure what’s the significance of these six-month increments; maybe that’s my new pattern). Even with the countless dates I went on this summer, Aphrodite never felt moved to make an appearance. I suppose she is being more selective or protective over me, but I do hope Aphrodite finds a worthy playmate soon.

When Aphrodite is not in love, she can carry her intense passion over to creative endeavors. Equipped with Athena’s wisdom and Aphrodite’s creativity, passion, and lust for life, I couldn’t think of two goddesses I’d rather have on my side as I finish the final draft of my memoir.

When You Know, You Know

Pepperdine Pinboard

One of the keys of manifesting your desires is dwelling in a state of knowing. We’ve all heard the expression, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” However, Dr. Wayne Dyer says the reverse is actually true, “You will see it when you believe it.” I can recall two times in my life where I had this inner sense of knowing I would achieve what I set out to accomplish.

I remember being a sophomore in high school and seeing a picture of Pepperdine University in Malibu. I immediately knew that was the college I was going to attend. Whenever anyone would ask what were my plans for after high school, I would tell them I would be studying at Pepperdine. My mom told me, “Amy, stop telling people you’re going there! We might not be able to afford that expensive school.” I thought to myself, “Don’t worry Mom, I got it covered.” I studied hard, got good grades, and applied to Pepperdine for early admission. Not surprisingly, the school gave me a partial scholarship as well as some student grants, making the tuition affordable and making my dream to attend the oceanside school come true.

Fast forward many years later to adulthood when I decided to write a memoir. I felt I had a story inside of me that needed to be told. I never really questioned whether it would be published—that just seemed like a given to me. However, sometimes when I would tell people I was writing a book, they would often say things such as, “You know, the publishing industry is dying,” or “Publishers aren’t taking risks on new authors these days.” I didn’t listen. It’s human nature for people tend to project their own fear on others. They mean well—people think they are being helpful by warning you of the challenges you may face. Personally, I’ve always been more of an encourager and would never try to discourage or dissuade anyone from achieving his or her dreams. My response would more be like, “You’re writing a book! That’s so exciting! I can’t wait to read it!”

That being said, it wasn’t the fear my book wouldn’t be published that got in the way—it was the fear that it would be! I started to question whether I wanted people to know all my deep dark secrets, secrets I had swept under the rug. So, after all that hard work, I took my book off the market, figuring it hadn’t been a complete waste of time because writing the memoir was very healing for me. About a year and a half ago, I left the pages on my laptop with no intention of trying to publish the book.

This past September, I wrote a blog about “Owning Your Story” to promote Gabrielle Bernstein’s Spirit Junkie Masterclass. I felt like a bit of a hypocrite. Here I was telling you to own your stories and that your stories are your power when I had hidden my own. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should revisit my memoir, but not now, I wanted to focus on creating a digital course first.

The universe must have been listening. About a week or two after I wrote that blog, I was sorting through the messages on my LinkedIn account. Among the messages of men offering me money for sex (maybe I should change the name of my blog) and free trips to Dubai, there was a message from the Vice President of a publishing house asking to see my book proposal. Within days, the publishing house offered me a contract. It was as easy as I always imagined it would be!

A Course in Miracles says that anytime you deflect a miracle, it will be held in a trust until you are ready to receive it. Maybe I had deflected a miracle when I put my memoir on the shelf. And maybe the timing hadn’t been right back then. Now, a little older and wiser, I feel as though the universe gave me a nudge to finish what I had started. Am I still scared? Yes, of course. But, now more than ever, I believe in miracles. I trust that I am being guided and that the powers that be and the angels above are on my side.

“Those who are certain of the outcome can afford to wait, and wait without anxiety.” ~ACIM


Men with Accents Have Better Stories

Photo Credit: Instagram @mariustroy

Men from other countries have always had a certain appeal for me. There’s something mysterious and sexy about a man who comes from a different culture. It’s as though a foreign man opens up a whole new undiscovered world.

A couple weeks ago, I volunteered to work a charity event at a hotel in Santa Monica. As I stepped out of my Uber, I was approached by a tall, intriguing Israeli man on the street. The attraction was instantaneous. Even though I was supposed to be working, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have a quick vodka-soda with my new friend before heading to the party.

My Israeli friend texted me that very night, thanking me for taking the time to have a drink with him. A couple days later, he called (yes, a good old-fashioned phone call). We talked for a while–I listened as he made me laugh and told me all kinds of fascinating stories. After I expressed how interesting I thought he was, he joked, “Men with accents have better stories.” I can vouch for this theory myself.

When we went to dinner, my Israeli friend discussed how different dating in the Middle East is from dating in the United States. He confessed that he doesn’t really like to date and usually has a girlfriend. He explained that in Israel, if you go on three dates with someone, you are considered boyfriend and girlfriend. (We’ve already been on two.) He told me how in his experience, Americans will try to casualize a relationship by saying, “we’re just talking” or “we’re hanging out,” even if they’ve been sleeping together or seeing each other for months. In his opinion, he feels that Americans are afraid of commitment, and although I realize this is an overgeneralization, there definitely is some truth to the statement.

While I’ve never dated an Israeli man, I have had a couple European boyfriends: one from Germany and another from Denmark. I appreciated how there was never any uncertainty or any vague terms to describe the relationship; both men let me know almost immediately that they wanted to be with me. From my understanding, the European way is to focus on person at a time and see where the relationship goes versus the American way, which is to keep our “options open” and date multiple people at a time until someone stands out.

As a romantic, I tend I prefer the European approach to dating. I feel when you’re seeing too many people at once, it’s hard to really go deep with someone; and I want to go deep. Besides, I’ve never read a fairy tale where Prince Charming needed to keep his options open, and as far as I know, neither did any Disney princesses either.

However, not always, but I do think that in some cases more than three dates are necessary in order to determine whether or not you want to be exclusive with someone; but then again, I am an American girl, which is maybe why I got heart palpitations when a Turkish guy I had been on three dates with this summer asked me if I was his girlfriend. It seems as though men with accents have their own form of the “three-date rule.”

One year ago, I met a handsome Frenchman on my birthday. We went on a couple dates last year before I started seeing someone, and he moved to Miami. As fate would have it, my French friend recently moved back to L.A., and we’ve seen each other several times in the last month.

We had a similar conversation over dinner about how dating in France is different from dating in America. Like my Israeli friend, the Frenchman explained that people don’t really “date” in France. He went on to say that dating an American girl is like dating a computer in that you must strategize every move, including when to call. Although he texted me the day after I met him and was attentive from the start, his American friends had told him it is customary to wait three days to call. To him, it didn’t make sense to wait.

Apparently, it is not easy to get a French woman’s phone number; but if she does give a man her number, she expects him to call the very next day. If a man doesn’t call by the next day, she will be upset. When the food arrives to our table, the Frenchman explains that food is like religion to him. He adds that in France, sex comes before dinner, unlike in America where you go out to dinner, and then go home to make love. I guess it makes sense to get down before your tummy is full…isn’t it true that the French eat the entree before the salad as well?

Maybe I’m European at heart because I always preferred to eat my salad last. I must say that although I do consider myself a feminist, I think that having a Latin father has given me a bit of an old world perspective when it comes to courtship. I’ve always been one to prefer a masculine type of man who takes the lead. Plus, I wouldn’t want to be with a man who chooses to “keep his options open” and date other women when he could have been with me.

So, yes, my Israeli friend is right–men with accents do have better stories. But what is even sexier to me is that men with accents, at least the ones I’ve met, tend to know what they want and aren’t afraid to claim a woman as their own♥

You Don’t Call, You Don’t Write

Claudia Telephone

So, there’s this friend of mine…he’s dark, intense, and has that edge I like. He’s also incredibly charming, knows how to make me laugh, and has a good heart…but there’s one thing that holds me back, and it’s a big thing–this guy just does not strike me as boyfriend material.

For this reason, whenever he would ask me out, I would jokingly tell him he’s dangerous or that I was scared to go out with him (both of which are true). He reassured me that I don’t have to be afraid to have dinner with him, but that I should be scared to go back to his apartment.

Now, I’ve known this guy for about two years, and I have to walk by his place of business at least a couple times a week. He’ll come out to say hi, give me a hug, and chat for a bit. Back in the beginning of the summer, when he found out I was single, he started to come on stronger than ever. I would always make excuses why I couldn’t go out with him or tell him, “Maybe next week.” He joked that I would keep telling him “next week” forever. I stopped making excuses the day he looked me in the eyes and told me he would never give up on me. I think every girl wants to hear a man say that to her.

Our date was pretty tame—dinner and a movie; and, surprisingly, he was a perfect gentleman. However, after that night, he never asked me on a proper date again. He did continue to text and invite me to his apartment, an invitation I knew better not to accept (especially after he threatened to lock me in for a few days!) Knowing from the start that this guy was a bit of a wild card, I simply wrote him off as a player and a much better friend than boyfriend for me.

A couple months after our date, my friend took me by surprise as he stopped me on the street telling me that he really wanted to be in a relationship with me. I giggled, highly doubting he was serious. He looked at me a little wounded, and in a very sincere manner, told me to just let him know if I didn’t like him, that he could handle the truth. That’s when I realized that he genuinely didn’t know how I felt about him. To be honest, I didn’t know how I felt about him either.

I explained that it wasn’t that I didn’t like him, I did; but I felt if he really wanted to be in a relationship with me, he would have put in more effort, and he would have asked me to dinner and not simply to his apartment.

He responded by telling me that I never call or text him, adding that he wants to feel like the girl likes him just as much as he likes her. He said that some guys don’t care, but to him, this is important.

At that point, I confessed that I like to be chased. He jokingly said, “You bitch!” and we both laughed.

Although I believe my instincts were right that this guy was a better friend than boyfriend for me, what he said really got me thinking, especially since I had a similar complaint earlier that day.

Interestingly enough, a guy I had only been on one date with had texted me that very morning saying he felt I was indifferent to him because I never texted first or asked to see him. To him, it seemed as though I was merely being polite by responding to his texts, but that deep down, I wasn’t interested. I mean, I liked him enough to go out with him again, but it’s just not my style to be blowing up a guy’s phone after a first date.

And these guys weren’t the only two with this complaint. “You don’t write, you don’t call” seemed to be a common theme of the summer. So let me explain:

No, I’m not a bitch. What I am is reserved, maybe even a bit shy. If I’ve just met a guy, I’m not the type to put myself on the line like that. I don’t know his schedule, whether he’s working, whether he’s seeing other girls, or whether he even likes me. In fact, the only way I know he’s really interested is if he keeps calling and asking to see me. Apparently, there are some guys who need this kind of validation as well.

I don’t play any games or have any set rules when it comes to texting or calling. I simply wait until I reach a level of closeness with someone before I start opening up and feeling comfortable initiating texts. At that point, there’s usually a rolling dialogue where no one is keeping score. Even before that stage, if I have something to say or something makes me think of the other person, I won’t hesitate to text first; but for the most part, I let the man take the lead.

While I don’t initiate texts or calls in the beginning, I am always very responsive if someone calls or texts me. I once read a dating book that advised women to wait a certain length of time to respond to texts from men. Personally, I think that’s silly—I always believe in being authentic. If a guy I like texts me and I’m able to text him back immediately, I will. However, if he texts while I’m with clients or out with the girls, of course, my response time is naturally going to be slower.

I can’t tell you how many girls will contact me when the guy they’ve been waiting to call just texted them asking how long they should wait to answer back. I’ll always tell them to text back right away because if he’s texting, it’s most likely a good time for him to talk. If you play a game and wait, you don’t know what he’ll be doing by the time you respond. And why sit around chatting with me when you could be talking to the guy you like?

Now that’s my line of thought. Relationship expert Dr. Pat Allen, whom I love and admire, has her own reasons why a woman should not initiate calls or texts in the beginning of a relationship. Dr. Pat believes that in every relationship one partner needs to be the masculine-energy and the other partner the feminine-energy. The masculine role is to give, protect, and cherish. The feminine energy appreciates, respects, and provides the sensuality and fun in the relationship. Since it is the masculine-energy that initiates and the feminine-energy that receives, a woman who initiates calls takes on the masculine role. That being said, it is perfectly fine for a woman to be the masculine energy in the relationship–that is, if she doesn’t mind a feminine-energy man. However, as un-feminist as this sounds, most women want to be the one who not only receives, but also is cherished and protected by her man.

I always laugh when Dr. Pat says, “There are a lot of women with penises and men with vaginas.” Most masculine men know they’re supposed to call. Therefore, a truly masculine man will never say, “You never call me.” If a masculine man wants you, he won’t whine, he’ll just come get you. It is more of a feminine-energy man who wants to be pursued by the woman.

Here I’ve identified three types of men who are more likely to be feminine-energy:

  • Younger men that date older women—Many successful, powerful women feel more comfortable being the masculine energy and prefer to date younger feminine-energy men. These women don’t mind being the aggressor and like calling the shots. The younger boyfriend likes to receive and feel cherished and protected. He might even be looking for a mother figure or someone to take care of him. (I must point out that this isn’t always the case. I dated someone significantly younger than me a couple years ago. He pursued me, called me every day, always picked up the tab, bought me flowers, took me shopping, and made me feel cherished. This man was super masculine and a great catch for a girl closer to his age.)
  • Men over 50—As men reach 50, their testosterone decreases while their estrogen increases. This makes them become nicer and more easily bondable, and more feminine-energy. (Once again, there are always exceptions. Just as I’ve met very mature, masculine men in their 20’s, I’ve also met some senior citizens who are still playing the field. The other exception is the man over fifty who has retained his masculine-energy, but with age and experience, has learned exactly how to treat a woman. This kind of man is a man worth dating!)
  • Extremely Handsome Men—Handsome men not only have women chasing them all the time, some women will cook and clean (even though we associate housework with women, in this case, it’s masculine because it is giving) and do just about anything for a man they are attracted to. These men are typically used to being pursued by women, so they are less likely to initiate calls and texts. Take my friend, for example—he exudes a powerful masculine-energy in person, but he’s also very handsome, so he’s used to women calling him all the time. (A handsome man can still be masculine-energy and pursue you even if he’s a bit spoiled. If your handsome man is indeed masculine, you will stand out in a sea of aggressive women if you stay in your feminine. Men have to do, women simply have to be.)

The truth is, there are no rules when it comes to love, so follow your heart. Masculine and feminine energy aside, if you miss the other person, just call–especially if you’re a man reading this; you wouldn’t want Dr. Pat to accuse you of having a vagina♥


Don’t Let Me Down

Brigitte Bardot Color

For as long as I can remember, I’ve never been one to handle disappointment well. I think most people would agree that I’m a pretty easygoing person and I don’t ask for much; however, if someone tells me they’re going to do something and doesn’t follow through or lets me down in any way, the pain runs deep.

Being man of your word and being reliable are everything to me.

My first recollection of the pain of disappointment happened back in high school, when my crush cancelled a trip to Six Flags because it was snowing outside. These days, you couldn’t pay me to go Six Flags in Chicago’s sub-arctic winter temperatures, but at the time, this was not only a huge letdown—it hurt me to my core.

This memory was triggered on my most recent trip to Chicago; now a grown woman, I’m still not any better at handling disappointment.

On a previous trip, back in July, while I was visiting my family in Chicago, I decided to take a peek on Tinder. I was only in town for three days and didn’t have time to meet anyone in person, but since I write dating columns, I was curious to see what the app was about; and at the time, I hadn’t wanted to use Tinder where I live in Los Angeles, because my calendar was already pretty full back at home. So, as one of my matches joked, I was basically a tease, but I did keep in touch with some of the guys I was talking to that weekend.

One guy in particular, let’s call him Jake, was disappointed that we weren’t able to meet in person that weekend, so he offered to buy me a plane ticket to Chicago so we would get to spend some time together. I wasn’t sure at first–it seemed a little weird to fly halfway across the country for a Tinder date. However, since I was able to stay with my parents, I decided I was up for the adventure and planned the trip so I would be in town to party with my niece on her seventh birthday.

While we were looking at flights, I asked Jake to get me a ticket to fly into Midway Airport, which is just minutes away from my parents’ house on the Southwest side of Chicago, explaining that my mom doesn’t like to drive on the freeway. However, like a true gent, Jake told me that he wanted to be the one to pick me up and ended up buying me a ticket to O’Hare Airport, which is north of the city.

The day of my flight, as I was boarding the plane in Los Angeles, Jake texted me telling me he wouldn’t be able to pick me up but was kind enough to give me the login and password to his Uber account to use when I landed in Chicago. I felt a wave of disappointment rush over me, like a little girl whose parents forgot to pick her up at school (although I had parents who were ALWAYS there to pick me up). I understand that things come up, and I do appreciate Jake taking care of the Uber, but this just did not sound like the guy I had been talking to for the past two months—the guy who couldn’t wait to breathe the same air as me.

In case I sound like a total diva, I do want to mention that had the plan been for me to Uber from the beginning, I wouldn’t have minded. Or had he bought me a ticket to Midway, where my parents would have picked me up, I wouldn’t have minded that either. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have minded the change of plans if I had even met him before, but there had been such a build-up to this moment; so for him to tell me he would pick me up and then not follow through, not only made a poor first impression, it made my heart sink.

As I would find out the next evening, after he kept me waiting for our dinner date longer than I care to admit, Jake suffered from extreme anxiety (and uncontrollable sweating) and was stalling because he was petrified to meet me in person. He also had a leg injury that he was extremely self-conscious about. So instead of judging him as thoughtless and inconsiderate, I actually felt compassion for the guy and tried to make the most of the night, even though I knew immediately that he wasn’t the one for me.

What Jake didn’t know is that I’m not the kind of girl who would have liked him any less because he had a bad leg. I’d honestly rather date a guy with no legs who showed up to get me at the airport on time. Then I could brag to all my girlfriends, “My date was so sweet. He didn’t even have legs, but he came to the airport to pick me up—holding roses!”

As I arrived at O’Hare, feeling let down, not knowing my way around and not knowing whether Uber even comes to the airport, I couldn’t help but think of my long-term ex-boyfriend and how every time he picked me up at the airport, he went above and beyond. He didn’t drive around in circles and have me jump in the car like most people do. Always a class act and never one to disappoint, my ex would actually park his car and stand at the bottom of the escalator at LAX—that’s as close as TSA would allow him to get! And, yes, he was always holding roses.

There’s a lot to be said about having someone you know you can count on, someone who will never let you down.

My heart hadn’t felt the pitter-patter of uncertainty since last April, when I had invited the guy I was seeing (who lived in another state) on a family vacation to meet my family. He and I had gone over dates and flight times, so I assumed he had gotten his plane ticket. However, a couple days before the trip, he called, stressed out, telling me that tickets were now over a thousand dollars. Although I was shocked he hadn’t bought his ticket a month earlier when it was more reasonably priced, I told him I was disappointed but understood if the tickets were too expensive. We hung up with him sounding like he wasn’t going to come, which would have been completely embarrassing for me, seeing as I hadn’t introduced anyone to my family in years. To my surprise, he quickly called back saying, “I must love you because I just bought a $1200 plane ticket.” And I loved him for coming through for me.

But the reality is, I don’t ever want that sinking feeling or my heart racing, wondering, “Will he or won’t he?” I want the kind of guy who I know will be standing at the bottom of the airport escalator with roses.

So guys, it may be snowing outside, your legs might not work, and the plane tickets might cost thousands of dollars, but take it from me, you don’t want to let your girl down♥

When the Universe Calls

When the Universe Calls

When I first started blogging, a writer friend asked me if I was afraid I would ever run out of ideas. I actually never run out of ideas (I only run out of the ones that won’t get me into trouble). When I’m in writer mode, my wheels are always turning. The words are often rolling around in my head before I get a chance to sit down to write. As a result, I sometimes feel less present, less social, and more absent-minded in my every day life. This summer, I wanted to turn off the chatter in my brain and take a step away from my laptop and really live.

I’ll be the first to admit, I fell into some bad habits this summer. I went out too much. I drank too much. I left people crazy drunk messages. I lost my cell phone. I ate pizza at 2am. I was having fun, but I also felt guilty. Not only did I feel guilty about not taking better care of myself, I felt guilty for not being more productive.

Now I’m a mystical girl who believes everything is a sign. I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe there are no chance encounters. I believe everyone is put in your path for a purpose. And I believe that angels speak through people.

So one night in June, while I was out and about, I met a Hollywood producer who had an idea for a project with one of my favorite authors and was wondering how to get in touch with her. I happened to do some volunteer work for her, so I gave the producer an email address where she could be reached. The next day, I received the most beautiful email from the author, a woman whom I admire tremendously. The thought crossed my mind, “Is this a sign? Is the universe telling me I should sit down and write something?” The thought was fleeting, and I kept partying.

About a month later, mid-July, I met a handsome surgeon at a restaurant. I was downing vodka sodas while he gave me an amazing shoulder massage. I don’t remember our conversation that night, but I highly doubt it was anything even remotely spiritual. To my surprise, when he came to pick me up for a dinner date a couple days later, he handed me a book on meditation. He probably thought, “This girl is so wild, I need to teach her how to meditate to calm her down.” While I hadn’t stopped meditating completely, my twenty-minute sessions had fallen to five minutes, sometimes twice a day; nonetheless, I took this gift as a call from the universe to step up my meditation game.

Signs often come in threes, and the angels often speak to me through my dates. A few weeks ago, a date took me to dinner at Cleo in Hollywood, where my girlfriend used to work. My date asked me if I had been there before. I told him, yes, I had, explaining that my girlfriend used to work at that restaurant. My very curious date wanted to know where she worked now. I told him it’s funny he should ask and explained that she is now a full time Akashic reader.

For anyone not familiar with the Akashic records, the records are a metaphysical library containing archives of each individual soul and its journey. Sounds a little out there, right? Well, after explaining this to my pretty straight-laced date, instead of thinking I was crazy, he told me that he thought it would be something I would enjoy and be really good at.

My girlfriend had actually invited me to take the course to become an Akashic practitioner. I was interested in the class, but I had already taken several certification programs in the last year and felt I needed to chill out on courses. However, the fact that out of all the restaurants in Los Angeles, he chose Cleo, where my friend had worked, I felt as though the universe was telling me I needed to take that class, which coincidentally started the following weekend.

After taking the Akashic practitioner course, I immediately felt re-aligned with my purpose. I was much less interested in partying and dating, and far more interested in practicing my Akashic readings. I felt like myself again; I felt creative; I felt focused; I felt inspired; I felt ready to get back to work.

Marianne Williamson always describes the universe similar to a navigation system. If you steer too far off course, the universe will always recalibrate. I might get a little wild at times. I might drink too much. I might have too many dates; but when the universe calls, I’ll always come home♥

“My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.”~ Anais Nin


Leftover Fish

Leftover Fish

Over the summer, I went on a few dates with a guy who was physically my type. We always had a lot to talk about, and I found him to be a better communicator than maybe anyone I had ever dated. He was in great shape, waking up every morning at 5am to swim before he went to work. He had a beautiful home, just minutes away from my apartment in Beverly Hills, but was more of a casual type of guy. He always took me to restaurants where the food was good, but not exactly the hottest spots in town, which of course, was fine with me. However, the night of our fifth date, he texted that he was too tired to go out, but invited me over to watch a movie and eat some leftover fish.

LEFTOVER FISH??? Now, I’m not above a movie night or even leftovers, but leftover fish did not sound appealing to me at all. Seriously, is fish even good the next day? I told him I would come over to watch a movie, but that I would make something at home for dinner.

While I was getting ready, my mom called asking if I was going out that night. I told her my date was tired, so he invited me over for a movie and some leftover fish. My mom squealed, “Eeeew. Leftover fish???” Then she confirmed what I had been thinking myself, “This guy really isn’t trying to impress you.”

And Mom was right! If he wanted to stay in and have leftovers on our fifth date, I hate to imagine what would have happened once things settled in. And, sure, he was nice, but why would I want to stay in watching Netflix with a guy who doesn’t even bother to order me a fresh meal when other guys are inviting me to places like Nobu, Mastro’s, Brazil, and Tahiti?

When one of my single male clients asked what happened to the guy I had been seeing, I told my client about the leftover fish. I explained that it just didn’t seem like the guy was putting in much effort. My client said, “Well, yes, the leftover fish was a mistake. He shouldn’t have done that.” Then he added, “You’re the kind of girl who likes to be wined and dined, aren’t you?”

Why, yes, I am that kind of a girl!

That being said, if I really like a guy, I’m perfectly happy eating delivery. So, guys, let this be a lesson. Ordering take out is perfectly fine, but please don’t serve a girl leftovers. The only time leftovers are acceptable are if you ate the original meal with her in the first place.

And, ladies, always remember you are so much better than leftover fish♥