Passion, Devotion & My Parents

Passion & Devotion 2

I once heard that the greatest gift you can give your children is two parents who love each other. Growing up, I had the idea that love was passion and having sex on the kitchen countertops; so I began to develop a perverse fascination as to whether my parents were getting it on. My little brother would tell me, “Eeeew. Stop with that! You’re so weird!” But to me, it was really important to know that my parents were madly in love.

New Year’s Eve was one of my favorite holidays because it was the one night I would see my dad passionately kiss my mom. My parents aren’t big drinkers, but on this night, they would each have a glass of wine. My little brother and I would sip on sparkling grape juice as we watched the countdown on TV. And, at the stroke of midnight, my dad would give my mom an open-mouthed kiss, a French kiss, as I would cheer them on. Although my parents always pecked each other on the lips and told each other “I love you,” I remember wondering why my dad didn’t kiss my mom like every day was New Year’s Eve.

Another time, when I was home from college and Christmas shopping with my dad, I came across a beautiful red nightgown, much more risqué than anything my mom would pick out for herself. I immediately told my dad to buy the nightie for my mom. He very sternly said, “Amy, she doesn’t like when I buy her clothes.” I said, “Dad, just trust me. Get her the nightgown.” Surprisingly, he listened. And when my mom opened the gift, her face lit up. I’m not sure if she ever actually wore the nightie, but it did make her very happy and added a little spice around the Christmas tree.

As I grew up, I became less concerned about my parents’ sex life, but I did come to appreciate my dad’s constant devotion to my mother. For instance, my mom recently had to have knee replacement surgery. While everyone was advising her to stay in the hospital as long as her insurance would allow, my mom confessed to me that she really just wanted to go home as soon as she could because my father takes much better care of her than any nurse. On the day of her operation, I called my dad to see how she was doing. My dad assured me that everything went smoothly and said she was in the recovery room. He sounded a bit anxious as he told me, “I can’t see her for two hours.” I said, “Aaaaaw Dad. It sounds like you miss her.” As if that was a really dumb thing for me to say, he snapped back and said, “Of course I miss her!”

When I called the next day to check in, I asked my dad, “How is your patient?” He said, “She is not my patient. She is my wife.” I giggled and had him put mom on the phone. The next time I called, my mom couldn’t talk because my dad was about to wash her hair. When we finally caught up, she told me, “Your dad really took his marriage vows seriously.”

When I write about my dad, I usually write about how gruff he is or how hard he was on me for some of the choices I’ve made; I realize that I don’t give him enough credit for being a devoted husband and father. For such a tough guy, he really does have a gentle side, especially when it comes to my mom. She truly is his everything.

As for me, I’m still that girl who believes you can’t have love without passion, but what I’ve learned from my parents is that true love is devotion…and of course, sex on the kitchen countertops♥


He Likes Big Butts and He Cannot Lie


I was recently talking to a girlfriend who was telling me it was a big turn-off that her long-term boyfriend is literally following hundreds (and counting) of sexy models on Instagram. While I wouldn’t like it either, we know that men are visual; so although his behavior might be a little juvenile, it’s not at all uncommon. Of course, my friend is not the only girl who has been perturbed by her boyfriend’s social media habits. Given the choice, any woman would prefer a man who makes her feel like she’s the only girl who exists in his eyes. I know, those are the men I always fall for. However, I can totally empathize with my friend because I was in a similar situation with a guy I very briefly dated early last summer.

Before I go any further, I should mention that I had a soft spot for this man I’m about to describe because I met him when I was only seventeen years old, brand new to town, all wide-eyed and innocent. In fact, he was one of the first men, if not the first man, I met when I moved to Los Angeles. Before I started my Freshman year in college, my mom had taken me shopping in a store that his family owned. As my mom and I were leaving, the young man, who was in his late-twenties at the time, followed me out of the store asking for my phone number. I had a long-distance boyfriend, so this guy and I were strictly friends back then. However, he did invite me and my Pepperdine girlfriends to Hollywood parties and sneak us into popular nightspots. He also sent me a beautiful dress when I went home to visit my family in Chicago that summer.

Eventually, the two of us lost touch, and many years passed before we reconnected. When I did see him again, the man hadn’t been untouched by time. Once a hip, slick party boy, he was now a middle-aged single dad with a little belly and quite a bit of gray in his beard, which was fine by me—I’ve been attracted to men with “Dad Bod,” long before “Dad Bod” was a thing.

The two of us were friends for several months before he actually asked me out on date. He seemed a little shy and socially awkward, which I found a bit endearing. He opened up to me about the fact that he hadn’t had a girlfriend in eight years, and it was too hard for him to date because he had full custody of his two teenage daughters. Hearing this should have made me head for the hills, but leave it to me to put a positive spin on things. I felt this was a good man who wasn’t like the typical L.A. guy who likes to play the field.

To this day, I’m honestly not sure what this man’s purpose in my life was, but I’ve always believed that there are no chance encounters, that every single person is put in your path for a reason. And the romantic in me thought it would be sweet if I actually ended up falling in love with a man I met that first year in college–long before Los Angeles corrupted me. I’m joking, I’m still that sweet Midwestern girl at heart.

When he kissed me for the first time, he said “I’ve waited years for this.” The timing was such that just days after our first date, he was scheduled to go to Portugal on a business trip then France to visit his family (Yes, another French guy). While he was away, he texted me that he couldn’t stand to be across the globe from me, and he was thinking about changing his plane ticket to come home earlier.

As it turned out, changing his ticket was going to be too expensive, so he stayed in Europe for the duration of his trip. He told me that he had taken some really cool pictures and was wondering if I had an Instagram account, which I did. So at that moment we started “following” each other. And that is when the all the romance came to a screeching halt.

For anyone not familiar with Instagram, there’s a feature that allows you to see which pictures the people you are following “like.” To my horror, this guy was liking pictures of butts, rows of butts, butt after butt, butts all day long with the occasional graffiti art picture. I’m not that judgmental—I mean, there are worse things a guy could do than like some butts online, but it didn’t seem very classy to me, especially when he knew that not only me, but his teenage daughters could also see the pictures he was liking. I know that as a teenager, and even now, if my dad were obsessively looking at pictures of butts on Instagram, I’d be more than a little creeped out.

One of my guy friends put it best when he said, “Liking pictures of beautiful women is one thing, every guy does that, but liking close-up shots of butts day after day–that guy sounds nasty, Amy.”

Nasty or not, I still liked him, and he was clearly a butt man. So I decided to work on my own. I usually avoid squats and any exercises that would make my legs or butt bigger. However, while I was seeing this guy, I took up squatting, and it paid off–he told me he loved my ass! In all fairness, he probably would have loved anybody’s ass. And one time when we were playing pool, I was bent over wearing my daisy dukes, and I caught him trying to sneakily take a picture up my shorts. It would have been nice for him to let me know so I could have at least posed for the photo.

The butts weren’t the only thing that bothered me. When we drove by a local strip club, he pointed out the club and seemed so childishly excited about simply driving by. I thought to myself, here’s a man who hasn’t had a girlfriend in eight years, and now he has a real live girl in his car, and he wants to brag about how much fun he’s had hanging out at the strip club? It’s not that I’m totally against strip-clubs, we’ve all ended up at one some point or another. However, this guy seemed to be lacking the type of sophistication I desired.

Of course, I didn’t mention anything, but later he brought up the strip club again while we were having dinner with another couple, adding that he took his ex-wife to one on their first date. I have to admit, a grown man getting so giddy about strippers was a major turn-off for me. I was starting to feel like this guy was not boyfriend material. So I asked my best guy friend what he thought. Was I being tough on the guy? Did I have overly-high expectations? My friend told me that he thought it’s a red flag for any man over the age of thirty to be a strip-club regular, but it’s not a total deal-breaker. He said to give the guy a chance and see how it plays out.

Shortly after, the guy I was seeing asked me to go away with him for the weekend. He had just bought a new jet-ski and wanted to take it to Laughlin. Now Laughlin is not anywhere I would have wanted to vacation, but the river is a good place to jet-ski (or at least it was before the California drought). Plus, I’m a girl who can have fun in a paper bag, especially if I’m with good company. The two of us had always had fun hanging out in LA, but the ride to Laughlin was a little strained. We didn’t have much to talk about on the five-hour drive, and he smoked pot the entire time, so we weren’t exactly on the same level. Although he told me he had made reservations at “the best restaurant in Laughlin” for the following night, we simply had a quick dinner at El Pollo Loco on the ride there.

On that first night, as he bought two drinks for us, the total came to a mere ten dollars. My date remarked that Laughlin is so much better than Vegas because the drinks are cheaper. I couldn’t believe he said that—definitely not a way to impress a girl. For anyone who hasn’t been to Laughlin, it’s similar to Vegas only in that it’s in the desert and you can gamble. However, everything is old and run down; the crowd is mostly retirees; and the hotels are definitely not as luxurious as the hotels in Vegas, at least not the ones I’ve stayed in. Although I didn’t share this man’s love of Laughlin, I did accept the invitation, thinking we would still have fun even if the locale wasn’t glamorous. What most people don’t know about me is that I’m actually very simple, I would choose true love over private jets and Dom Perignon any day.

The next morning we took the jet skis out on the river. My date complained a lot, and, quite frankly, was pretty grouchy, probably because we drank so much the night before. He continued to smoke pot the entire trip, which normally doesn’t bother me, but I believe it might have created a bit of a disconnect with me being all bright and cheery while my date was completely stoned. After a long day of drinking and playing in the sun, we stopped for lunch at Carl’s Jr. I can be affectionate after a few drinks, so as we waited for our order, I leaned in to give him a kiss. His reaction not only surprised me, but hurt me—in true fatherly fashion, he blurted out, “Calm down, Amy!”

REALLY? I mean, he should be so lucky that I even wanted to kiss him after taking me for a meal at a fast-food joint. Laughlin and Carl’s Jr. are not exactly aphrodisiacs.

Anyway, I’ve never had a man refuse a kiss from me, so my ego was more than a little bruised. The two of us went back to the hotel and took a nap. When I woke up, I saw the time. We had dinner reservations in half an hour at the “best restaurant in Laughlin,” but my date was sitting on the couch smoking pot, eating Nutter Butters, and watching National Geographic. I asked him if we were still going to dinner. He said, “I’m not hungry, are you?” To be honest, I wasn’t hungry, but it would have been nice to get out of the room and do something. Instead I rolled over and went to back to sleep knowing that this definitely was not the guy for me.

The next morning, we had breakfast at Denny’s, his choice of course, and hit the road. The ride home seemed especially tense and long–I couldn’t wait to get out of that car. To make matters worse, this trip kept making me think about my last boyfriend. My boyfriend before him had been long distance, and we travelled really well together. We never ran out of things to talk about, were always laughing hysterically, and each moment was nothing short of magic. So this trip to Laughlin not only made me miss that kind of connection, but made me realize that I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

When my date dropped me off at my apartment, he gave me a kiss, and told me he had so much fun. I didn’t really believe him until the next time he called me and said that he was thinking we should go to Laughlin again for Fourth of July, adding that we would talk about it later. I remember thinking to myself, he can go to Laughlin, I’m going to Nobu, Malibu!

I only saw him one more time after that trip—I honestly wasn’t impressed. This guy just wasn’t treating me the way I’m used to being treated, so I decided to send him a break-up text letting him know all the reasons why I no longer wanted to see him anymore. Although I left out the butts on Instagram, I did tell him that the guy for me wouldn’t be frequenting strip clubs and mentioned how he complained the whole time in Laughlin, among a few other things. I have since deleted the message, but when my girlfriend read it, she laughed so hard she cried (although I never intended it to be funny), suggesting that my next book should be a collection of my break-up letters–actually not a bad idea!

To my surprise, his response was really sweet. I almost felt bad for sending such an aggressive text. He told me that he really enjoyed our time together and that he didn’t realize he had been moody in Laughlin—he actually had a lot fun! Really? To put it in perspective, that was hands-down the single-worst trip I had ever taken with a man in my entire life. My mom sweetly said, “Well, everyone has their own levels of fun.”

I just want to mention that I do think this is a nice guy with a good heart; he simply wasn’t for me. A couple months ago, I received a random message from him on Instagram that he has a new girlfriend, and unfortunately his girlfriend has some trust issues. Actually, she was worried that he was still seeing me. It was kind of ridiculous to me that A.) he was contacting me about his relationship problems and B.) that she would think I would still want anything to do with the guy. However, I felt he wanted me to answer so he could show her my response saying that there was nothing going on between us. I’m pro-love, so I thought I would help the guy out and answered, “Why in the world would she think we were seeing each other? We haven’t spoken in almost a year.”

I was actually happy for him that he had a found someone—I had been worried that maybe he was destined to a life of lapdances and Instagram butts. I wonder if maybe the reason he was put in my path was so he could learn how to be better to the next girl who came along, the girl who was actually meant for him.

Yet, I could see how this girl could develop trust issues with a boyfriend who has a butt and strip club fetish, but hopefully that kind of behavior is behind him now. One thing is for certain, his girlfriend doesn’t have to worry about me, my butt is one butt that guy will definitely never see again ♥


Why I Like My Boyfriends Far Away

Take Me to Paris

Photo Credit: @muradosmann

It’s not the reason you think…I’m always a loyal and faithful girlfriend, sometimes too loyal. So it’s not that I want to run around and date other men or party with my girlfriends all the time. But it’s true, I seem to be attracted to men who live far away. In fact, it’s almost as though the farther away a man lives, the more interested I am. And it’s not that I have intimacy issues or that I like impossible relationships; it’s more about wanting to live a life of adventure and being curious about life in other parts of the world, not to mention, having a thing for foreign men.

Believe it or not, this all stems back to high school. My first boyfriend seemed very American on the surface, but was actually born in Sweden. On top of being foreign, he was in the Navy. For me, the local high school boys just didn’t hold the same appeal. I was more interested in the guy who traveled the world, which coincidentally, was perfect because I technically wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend yet anyway. And there was something romantic about receiving all those handwritten love letters and gifts from every port.

One of the main reasons I like long-distance relationships is that I’ve always been very goal oriented. In high school, I focused on my grades and studied really hard to make sure I got into my dream school, Pepperdine University in Malibu. Now, as an adult, I teach Pilates six days a week and write on most nights. Of course, the end goal would be living in the same city as the man I love. However, for the way my life is right now, I like the idea of meeting up somewhere for a romantic rendezvous away from all the hustle and bustle, then focusing on my work while I’m home in L.A. Although I have to admit, I wasn’t very professionally productive in my last long-distance relationship because I spent so much time texting and Skyping–I did, however, always keep my clothes on for our video chats no matter how many times my then boyfriend told me that Skyping naked would lead to deeper intimacy in our relationship. Does that make me a prude?

A friend of mine recently warned me that long-distance relationships aren’t real life, but I disagree. There’s nothing like taking a trip with someone to know whether or not you are compatible with him or her. When you date someone in the same town, you are probably able to spend only a few hours together after you both finish work and before you fall asleep, possibly more time on the weekends, of course, but there’s always errands to be run and things to take care of before the work week starts again. I like how in long-distance relationships, a couple sets everything aside to just really get lost in each other. I know that I would much prefer a few days of sleeping in and rolling around in bed with no place to be over seeing someone several times a week but having to wake up and rush off to work in the morning. So, whether it’s three days, five days or seven days of togetherness, I feel I’ve become much closer, much faster to the men I’ve dated long distance.

Last summer I went on a few dates with a man who lived in Long Beach, which, when there’s no traffic, is only about an hour away from where I live in Beverly Hills. Of course, the gentlemanly thing to do would have been for him to come to me, and he did the first couple of times. However, he had a nice big house and a boat he wanted to show off, and I’m always up for a change in scene; so I agreed to drive out to Long Beach one night after work, not really factoring the rush-hour traffic. The drive took me three whole hours! As I sat in gridlock, I thought to myself, how could I possibly date this guy? To me, this drive was much worse than any long-distance relationship I had ever been in. I’d much rather fly somewhere and be with my boyfriend the entire weekend than to drive three hours just to have dinner with him. That’s the one contradiction to my theory that I like them farther away. Farther is definitely not better when it comes to dating locally. At least I can write on an airplane, but there’s no way I’d want to be stuck in traffic for that long on a regular basis.

I remember growing up, I told my mom that I was so bored because we always lived in the same house, and I went to the same school kindergarten through eighth grade. My mom had moved around a lot as a kid and was constantly starting new schools, so she wanted to provide the stability for us that she never had. While I appreciate that now, at the time I was craving new stimuli. As soon as I graduated high school, I moved to Los Angeles, and I’ve been here ever since.

While L.A. managed to hold my attention for quite a long time, recently I’ve been finding myself with a bit of wanderlust. So, a man who lives in, say, Monaco is going to be much more exciting to me than a guy who lives in Sherman Oaks. I don’t want to sound ungrateful because I do appreciate all the lavish dinners men have treated me to in my lifetime. However, an L.A. guy is going to take me to all the same restaurants I’ve been to a hundred times, whereas, a man in another state—or, better yet, another country–is going to open me up to new places and experiences I wouldn’t normally have, and that’s extremely exciting to me. I’d take a hole in the wall in Italy over the trendiest restaurant in Los Angeles any day.

Recently, my mom sweetly suggested that maybe I should try to find a man who lives in America. Of course, I’m not ruling American men out. I mean, it’s possible I could fall in love with an American man tomorrow, maybe even a foreign man who lives in L.A.; or I could meet a man who likes to travel as much as I do, although L.A. guys usually invite me to Vegas or Cabo, two places which are very fun, but I’ve been to both numerous times. Lately, it’s Europe that’s been calling my name…and coincidentally, I love the old world manners and charm of European men.

Over the last couple years, I started to intuitively feel like maybe the man for me doesn’t live in Los Angeles. I do believe he’s out there, but maybe not in this city, on this continent, or even on this planet.

I might have to fly to the moon to find him. But strangely, I’m okay with that♥


“When they work, long distance relationships are the best sort of beautiful, I think. That a person could wait months, cross miles and oceans for a few spectacular moments with the person they love, that’s it, you know, that’s what we’re all searching for.”

~Beau Taplin

You Keep Me Safe, I’ll Keep You Wild

Red Wild 2

One of my guy friends recently asked me why he and I don’t date each other. I thought back to the last time I hung out with him, which turned into a particularly uninhibited night, starting out with us eating chocolate-covered strawberries and dancing to the piano bar at Mastro’s and ended at a strip club until 3 a.m. Although the night was ridiculously fun, I seriously had no business “making it rain” when I had a 9 a.m. clients the next morning. Despite the fact that my friend is handsome, fun, and I enjoy his company very much, I explained that I felt he was too wild for me, and that I need to be with someone who keeps me grounded.

It’s no secret that I possess a bit of a wild streak myself. Whenever I’ve tried to date someone who was even wilder than I am, I would get myself into trouble trying to keep up with him. I believe there should be one partner who stabilizes the other, and I can speak from experience that relationships tend to work best for me when I’m the wilder one. To put things in perspective, my longest relationship was a man who did crossword puzzles every night. He once came home from work with a bottle of Dom Perignon. I said, “Let’s party!” He responded, “Let’s have a reading party!” Who in the world reads when they drink champagne? Give me a bottle of Dom and there are a lot of things I might be tempted to do; reading, however, isn’t one of them.

My parents also have this kind of dynamic where my dad is so serious I can literally count the times I’ve seen him smile on both of my hands, and my mom is more light-hearted and fun, not to mention a total social butterfly. He does keep her safe, but to be honest, my dad will never be wild.

Last summer while I was visiting my family in Chicago, my niece, who was six-years-old at the time, saw a picture in my phone of a guy I had gone out with on a few dates. This guy was a lot of fun but liked to drink and party a little too much to be boyfriend material. My wise-beyond-her-years niece took one look at his picture and said, “I don’t like him…I like serious men like Cole. He’s six, and I can tell he loves me.” Cole must be pretty special if he’s already considered a man at the age of six. Apparently my niece and I have similar taste. I, too, like serious men whom I can tell love me.

I’m a girl who, for the most part, has my head in the clouds. I feel I need a man who has his feet planted firmly on the ground to balance out my whimsical nature and keep me on planet Earth. If I’m the more practical or responsible one in the relationship, we’re going to be in for trouble. So, as much as I adore my friend, what I’m looking for is someone who keeps me safe–so I don’t get too wild♥

She Works Hard for the Money

90's Supermodels in Chanel

Often men will approach me acting as though they are interested in doing business with me when they clearly have ulterior motives. The most common (and most innocent) example of how men work the business angle is when I tell them I teach Pilates one-on-one. I can’t tell you how many guys will say they want to take Pilates when they first meet me, when they are really hoping to get a date. I used to offer a complimentary thirty-minute session to prospective clients, until I realized that most of the men who were taking advantage of this offer were simply wasting my time. After their thirty minutes were up, they would not purchase a package and would ask me out to dinner instead. My answer would unequivocally be, “No!” These men honestly would have had a better chance with me had they been upfront about their intentions.

A man once approached me at a club telling me he could help me build my Pilates business. He had connections to the cast of a popular primetime evening show and offered to help market me as a “Pilates instructor to the stars.” I agreed to meet him for dinner, but as he drew the curtains around the table and poured me a glass of red wine, I realized this was not a business meeting. Later when I refused to kiss this guy, he accused me of using him. Excuse me—Who had offered to help who? I was only guilty of being too naïve thinking that his help didn’t come with strings attached. If he had wanted a date, he should have just asked if he could take me to dinner. I may or may not have said yes, but at least neither one of us would have felt taken advantage of.

The best example of a man not being clear with his intentions occurred a few years ago when a modeling agency sent me on a job interview for a personal assistant position. I thought it was odd that someone would call a modeling agency for a PA, but I trusted the agency that sent me out on the interview. I suppose, given the choice, any man would prefer to have an assistant who is easy on the eyes. Once at the job interview, I asked what my daily tasks would be. My prospective employer told me that there would be some clerical work, but when we are slow, we would take hikes, get manicures, and go shopping together. Now that sounded like my kind of job! But of course, I’m smart enough to know that this position did not seem legit. This man then proceeded to tell me that he would take me to dinner at some of the best restaurants in town as well as on trips to Vegas and Miami. When he asked me how I felt if he “put a giant diamond necklace on me,” I mustered the courage to ask him whether he was looking for an assistant or a girlfriend. He assured me that he was indeed looking for an assistant, but that we would be spending a lot of time together, and I just might end up liking him. Needless to say, I declined that job and resented losing three hours of my life at that “job interview.”

I’m sure this kind of thing happens all the time with the models and actresses here in Los Angeles, and it’s very unfortunate because a lot of us girls are out there working really hard to pay the bills. When guys like these offer us opportunities, we want to be open to the possibility; however, when we discover that many of these men have ulterior motives, we feel upset because they’ve not only wasted our time, but also messed with our money. Then we really don’t want to go out with them.

If you’re a guy who has used this tactic in the past, I really hope you start to become clear about your intentions from now on. If a date is what you want, ask for a date! She might say yes, and if she says no, then you are saving yourself a great deal of frustration. Now, of course, you’re always welcome to help a girl out, but if you want more than a business relationship, please either let her know so she doesn’t feel duped, or don’t get mad if she rejects your advances later on. A woman always wants to be taken seriously in her profession, so she might not want to mix business with pleasure, and her time is just as precious as yours. A true gent is impeccable with his word and will never offer to help if he doesn’t intend to follow through, regardless of what he’s getting—or not getting–out of the situation♥

**Originally published in Southern Vixens Magazine**

Sex with Single Dads

Johnny Depp holding baby

A girlfriend of mine from Chicago swore she would never date a man with kids. Well, after years of saying she would never go there, she ended up falling in love with a guy who happened to have a little boy–you can’t help who you love!

There were times, however, when she became frustrated with dating someone who couldn’t make her his entire universe because, understandably, he had other priorities. I remember her calling me a while back complaining that there are absolutely no advantages to dating a man who has kids.

I thought, surely there has to be some advantage, at least one. From my own experience, I’ve found that men with children tend to be more nurturing and caretaking. Plus, it’s hard to juggle multiple women when you are already juggling your children with your girlfriend. A man without children is probably less responsible and could be more interested in drinking and partying. Therefore, I would think a man with children would be much more stable and grounded.

It seems like every man I meet these days either has kids or wants kids. Some of these guys already have kids but still want more kids. Although many of my girlfriends simply refuse to date a man with children, I’ve always kept an open mind. In fact, there was even a time where I thought it was a good idea to date a man who already had kids because it would let my uterus off the hook. Now don’t get me wrong, I love children—I just don’t particularly want to give birth to one. I’m a really fun aunt, but I’ve never had a strong desire to be a mother. For that reason, dating single dads seemed to make sense in theory. However, after dating a man with two young children, I started to re-think my position.

Several years ago, I was dating a man with two boys, 3 and 5-years-old. One of my guy friends tried to warn me saying, “Don’t do it! He will never put you first.” But, of course, I didn’t listen. This man’s divorce was so fresh that the ink on his decree was barely dry. He had dated other women before me, but not seriously, and I, unfortunately, was his first relationship since splitting from his wife.

One of my other girlfriends says she doesn’t date single dads, not because of the children themselves, but because there will always be another woman in the picture. You see, what I hadn’t factored in is the baby’s momma situation. In this case, there was no formal custody arrangement, and since my then boyfriend and his ex lived so close, any time she wanted to go out, she would ask him to take the kids so she didn’t have to call a babysitter. Additionally, she had a rule that I couldn’t meet the children until we were together nine months—we only made it six.

Now, it wasn’t that I was dying to meet the kids. I don’t want to parent or play mom to anyone. If I did find myself in a serious relationship with a single dad, I would simply aspire to be a good friend to his children. The biggest challenge to dating my then boyfriend was that he would often have to cancel or reschedule dates with me at the last minute if his ex called asking him to take the boys. Had I been allowed to meet them, then we could have all stayed in and watched a movie or something. However, since that was against the rules, there were many nights when my boyfriend cancelled on me, sometimes so last minute that I was already putting on my makeup to go out for the night. And if my boyfriend would ever tell his ex that he already had plans, she would make him feel guilty about not putting the children first. Something I’ve witnessed is that single dads tend to carry a great deal of guilt.

Although I never did officially meet the kids, the three-year-old once saw me from his bedroom window. The mere sight of me made him start crying, asking his dad, “Who is the woman in the driveway?” Not knowing how to handle the situation, my then boyfriend told his son that there was no one in the driveway, and the kid kept crying. I always wondered why my boyfriend just didn’t say I was a friend. From that point on, I had to enter the house through the back door if the kids were home.

I swear, there’s a little boy somewhere in Calabasas that still probably has nightmares over me. To be honest, I felt a little bad after that night. I mean, most kids adore me. Was I really that scary in my pink lace dress? I don’t want to be a person who makes kids cry just by looking at me. And I definitely don’t want to be the “woman in the driveway.”

Too much drama, too many rules, and far too many cancelled dates–that experience left me a little turned off to single dads until a few years later when I met a man who actually got it right. He was able to be both a good dad and an attentive boyfriend. He introduced me to his son after only a few dates. I didn’t spend much time with the kid, but this guy wanted to avoid any weirdness or awkwardness if his son saw me coming and going. The three of us watched The Smurfs together and ate banana ice cream. It was no big deal, there was no drama, and not a single tear was shed. The guy and I broke up eventually, but for reasons that had nothing to do with him being single dad.

Naturally, a man’s children have to come first. I wouldn’t want a man who abandons his kids for me. If a man ever convinces me to have a baby with him, I would want to know that he is an excellent father–I wouldn’t have it any other way. However, I think a man should be able to both attend to kids and make the woman in his life feel special. The way you love a child is different from the way you love a woman—there shouldn’t be a competition. I believe there is enough love to go around for everyone. Unfortunately, it seems as though many men have trouble with this balance.

Now, would I date a man with kids again? Yes, I would give it another try. It’s not that I’m specifically seeking out single dads, but I wouldn’t rule them out. Although there are challenges to dating a man with children, I do believe there are men out there who know how to keep everyone happy.

As for my girlfriend, after she and I hung up the phone that day, I opened up my computer. On my Facebook newsfeed, someone had posted an article on why sex with single dads is the best kind of sex. I immediately forwarded the article to my girlfriend, telling her I found an advantage to dating single dads.

She responded, “Yes, that is true! Single dads are better in bed.”

At this point, you’re probably wondering how I feel about sex with single dads…I think I’ll be a lady and say, “No comment.”

But there must be a reason we keep dating them♥

Wild Nights in the City of Light


I’ll admit I haven’t been very fun in L.A. lately. I barely go out anymore—most nights you can find me at home writing or curled up with a book. I always seem to have early clients or a pending deadline, and I’m perpetually on a diet. Plus, although I love this city, I’ve lived here a long time, so I feel I’ve pretty much seen and done everything this town has to offer.

However, there’s something about being in a new city that brings out my adventurous nature and makes me come alive. I want to discover and explore the city and see as much as possible. I once heard the term “traveler’s bravado” used to describe how people tend to behave more boldly on vacation; well, I think I definitely had some “traveler’s bravado” going on while I was visiting Paris Valentine’s weekend.

I went to Paris with a girlfriend, and it seemed as though she and I switched roles for the weekend. When we’re in L.A., my girlfriend is the one who always wants to hit up all the clubs and parties. However, in Paris, she was far more interested in shopping on the Champs Elysees and taking selfies with the Mona Lisa and Venus di Milo, while I was the one who wanted to stay out until the sun came up. After our first night of the trip, my girlfriend remarked that I’m much wilder in Paris than in L.A.

I had been to Paris ten years earlier and was lucky enough to have stayed at the ultra-posh Hotel Costes. I’ve always loved the ambience and the décor of the hotel, which is adorned with beautiful fresh roses, and I remembered the bar scene was really fun, so I suggested we start the night out there. It was at the Hotel Costes that my girlfriend and I met many interesting characters—a French man who asked us for a threesome, a man from Saudi Arabia who invited us to a strip club (we politely declined), but it was the swinger couple from Switzerland we had the most fun with—of course, not THAT kind of fun.

When we went to order drinks at the bar, the husband, in the most gentlemanly manner, stood up to offer my friend his seat. At this point we didn’t know they were swingers yet, but we did notice the wife was very friendly and smiling ear to ear. My girlfriend even commented that the wife looked so happy—could it be possible swinging is the key to a happy marriage? I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and when I opened the door to leave the stall, the wife was standing there waiting for me. She told me she thought I was beautiful and went in to kiss me. Not wanting her to feel rejected, I politely gave her a peck on the lips and told her I wanted to go check on my friend.

The couple invited us to go to another spot along with their group. When we got to the venue, my new friends started dancing on the bar. I danced with them for a few songs before going to join my girlfriend who was sitting in a booth on her phone. My girlfriend still wasn’t aware the couple was on the prowl, so as the husband made his way over to us, I quietly clued her in. Right away, she loudly asked him, “Are you and your wife swingers?” He stood up taller and proudly exclaimed, “Why, yes, we are!”

At this point, a guy who looked like a French Bradley Cooper approached me. When I told him he looked like the American actor, he said, “I am much prettier than Bradley Cooper.” My girlfriend said, “Eeeew. Let’s go home.”

The next night as the two of us were walking into a nightclub, a very handsome 6’7 rugby player from Dublin approached us. There had been a big Ireland Vs. France match that night in Paris, and this guy’s ear was all scratched up as a result. Although I thought he was cute, my girlfriend and I headed straight to the bathroom. My girlfriend wasn’t in the mood to party, and she left almost immediately. I ended up dancing and sipping champagne with a couple of French guys at their table. I wasn’t interested in either guy, but they were showing me a good time.

At some point, I became hungry and asked one of the guys to take me for a cheeseburger. While we were getting my coat from the coat check, the rugby player swooped in and whispered in my ear, asking me if I wanted him to save me, I nodded. He said, “Sorry, she’s with me,” took my hand and walked me out of the club directly in a cab. Very smooth—I did feel a little bad for the French guy, but you gotta love the rugby player’s take-charge kind of a attitude.

When the cab driver asked us where we wanted to go, we said, “Take us for cheeseburgers.” As the cab driver pulled up to McDonald’s, I said, “Not McDonald’s! I don’t eat fast food.” The cab driver said, “Well, you’re American, I thought you would want an American burger.” I said, “I want a FRENCH burger,” and that’s exactly what I got. The cab driver took us to a little hole in the wall where I got my burger, which consisted of four mini beef patties on a baguette, and that French burger was delicious!

The rugby player and I tried to decide what to do next. He thought the Arc de Triomphe would still be open for hot chocolate. However, it was already around 5am when we arrived at the monument, and the security guards told us it was closed. Since we couldn’t go inside, the rugby player gave me a piggyback ride around Arc de Triomphe instead. He dropped me off at my hotel at 6am and headed back to his hotel to catch a 10am flight back to Dublin.

When I told my girlfriend I had hung out with the handsome rugby player we had met, she asked if he was “the giant with the bloody ear.” I laughed, “Yes, that’s him,” adding, ”He’s fun!”

As if piggyback rides and cheeseburgers weren’t exciting enough, on my last night, I was hit by a lightening bolt. The way the French describe love at first sight, un coup de foudre, literally means a stroke of lightening. I can’t think of anything more romantic than Valentine’s Day in Paris. I ended up having had the most magical dinner with a man who told me he felt a lightening bolt when he saw me, and we both felt if circumstances were different, that maybe we could fall in love.

Now I’m not a person who believes that love has any bounds, but realistically, we lived on separate continents with a great big ocean dividing us. So, this was a very bittersweet ending to my weekend in Paris.

The next morning, as I packed my bags to head back home to Los Angeles, my girlfriend said, “You met a lot of nice guys here this weekend.” And it’s true, I really had. I love the French joie de vivre!

L.A. is often referred to as La La Land, but it was Paris that felt like a dream♥