"A Girl's Gotta Do What A Girl's Gotta Do...do be do be do"

I was an impressionable child. Some of my best memories were of my Aunts singing off key at the top of their lungs, to "Strangers In The Night" by Frank Sinatra. While Aunt Molly and Aunt Jay crooned along with Frank, smoking Chesterfield non-filtered in one hand, sipping a Brandy Alexander in the other, those immortal words they crooned lingered in my ear - "What were the chances, we'd be finding love before the night was through?" My question, exactly.

For most divorced women thrown back into the cesspool called "dating", the search for an ideal mate becomes something akin to a quest for the Holy Grail. Here I was - Thirty-something, successful, sexy, and finally comfortable in my own skin after many years of trying on new shoes to fit an old pair of feet. The irony was, that no matter what level of success myself or my fabulously sexy single girlfriends had, the minute it came to romance, we all dropped our guard, our friends, and our panties at the first sign of interest. Why do women gave up their personal power so easily when it comes to love? It makes us turn into complete blithering idiots, saying things like  "He's my soul mate!" Personally, I was enraged at being baited by the "Love Hook" after my fifteen year marriage ended, being thrown into the bitter waters of divorce like a spawn swimming upstream, against all odds to find another mate. Even more annoying, that just like my Aunts before me, I bought the bait you could meet your "soul mate" on a chance encounter. I finally realized not only did this haunt my earliest illusions of romance, but my ideal of love had been created by a 1060's love song. Obviously,  I were in big trouble.

A Question of Balance
Granted, my twelve year marriage kept me out of the dating cesspool, until post-divorce dropped me down in the cold harsh world of Online dating. Surfing the internet for dates felt like trolling for flounder. Websites like Match.com, Zoosk, eHarmony, called out like a siren to luring me into perilous waters, where I dare not tread. Instead I played it safe on shore, waiting for the perfect "chance encounter" to be divinely ordained by the universe. As if.

Post divorce, I had been dating recently broken-up or divorced guys, which my BFF Karin, referred to as "The Walking Wounded" - they acted like kids in a dating candy store who wanted everything. Unfortunately after the sugar rush was over, they ran for the door screaming, "I'm not ready, it's too soon!". The sad thing about dating after divorce is, most women have no patience left for games. By the time the game is over, they are left sitting alone in bed devouring a box of chocolates, watching Oprah, trying to figure out what was the train wreck that just just hit me?Was it love or really lust, at first sight? The truth is, no matter how much you thought you "connected" with another person (We're "soul mates, remember?) most women go straight for the unholy trinity of expecting too much, too soon as they run for the door.

As I pondered why women make it so easy for men to play their infantile game and win, like- what makes the chase work, and why must there even be a chase? So, I chose to take a good hard look at the bodies buried in the back yard, which happened to com on a much needed vacation in Hawaii with gal pals, Karina, and Pamela, as we compared notes on the various relationships we had gone through in the past year.

"Clearly, you have to take the power into your own hands!" Pamela said confidently as we sipped our drinks poolside, the Kona sun sank over the tropical horizon.

"What does that mean exactly?" I asked, as I had pretty much resigned myself to spending the rest of my life alone and showering what emotions were left on Binky the Love Cat, who deserved it way more than some of the losers I had gone out with.

"Simple! It's all about prolonging the chase", Pamela continued confidently, "because as soon as they "get it, they're gone. So, why not make them wait until we know they are worth it, right?".

Pamela was one of my more crazier friends, she seemed to be channeling the ministry of sound advice but suddenly that stupid book, "The Rules" popped up in my head, like a bad hairband from the 80'S. Simply stated, it says, if we place too much outcome on a new relationship ("He's the one"!), we upset the balance of things unfolding naturally as a result of too much expectation and it's over before it had a chance to begin- meanwhile, the guy thinks you're moving in tomorrow and presses the Auto Freak-Out button, heading for the door. After it's over, you lie in bed for two weeks with Ben&Jerry, trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle. It's true- we've all cave in for love, but at what cost to our self-respect? What we've really lost in the end, is our balance.

The Masturbation Manifesto
 Did my friend Pamela hit the nail on the "head"? It is all about keeping your personal power, even if you don't resort to using the Magic Wand before leaving for the next date. Which leads me to ask, just how to you hold out from doing the dirty deed, when it's been longer than you want to admit? For myself, I always caved in with a really good kiss - you know the kind, where your toes curl up as you pull yourselves apart, stunned, as your spine goes "tweak" before you melt and sign him over everything you own.

I continued to contemplate this issues after leaving the girls behind on Kona, when I booked an archeological excursion to tour ancient sites of the Hawaiians on Ohahu, before heading home to Los Angeles. After hooking up with my adorable tour guide who happened to be a scientist, a surfer, and a total flirt, he convinced me into stay a few days extra in paradise to teach me how to surf and show me more of the island. We spent several days in pretend romantic bliss, showing me magical places, and teaching me how to surf in front of Dukes at Waikiki Beach, catch my very first wave, and act out my Gidget fantasy in my bikini for the crowd on the beach. For the first moment in life, I realized that these moments of perfection in life were fleeting, and in reality only happens once in a "Blue Moon".

As I returned back home, I felt my spirit renewed, as I returned to my single life complete with wonderful chance encounters dotting my solo landscape with brilliance. The "Stranger In The Night" did show up after all - and, just in the nick of time when I needed an extra dose of self confidence coupled with racy romance to hold me over until the next "chance encounter".

The funny thing about chance encounters, is that they actually happen. My "Once in a Blue Moon" scenario came true one weekend shortly after returning to Los Angeles, when I headed out to meet some friends at a country fair in an artsy community nestled in the hills below Malibu. On the shuttle up to the fair, a Joe Cool looking guy with Oliver Peoples' sunglasses, sat down next to me, and instantly, we connected. We talked non-stop making polite chit-chat while sizing each other up -it's all about the accessories for me, an x-ray into what page someone is on, and his page, looked very cool. He mentioned he had just come from surfing, which prompted my Gidget story, as I described the thrill of catching my first wave and promptly getting hit on the head with a ten foot surfboard, in the next. As we stepped off the shuttle, he gave me his number, which I put in my pocket never expecting to pull out again. But, that's the funny thing about life - just when you think something, the opposite occurs. In the midst of over a thousand people, we bumped into each other again and despite my hardest effort to not like him as much as I did, I spent the rest of the afternoon laughing at his jokes, and yes, he did pass the "Toe Curl" test, with flying colors.

I never met up with my friends that day, something I've thanked them for, numerous times. It's now eight years since Joe Cool and I have been married. We bought a house right down the road from where we met at the very spot, waiting for the shuttle to Topanga Days. Life, like the windy canyon road, is full of it's twists and turn you can't see, as we march blindly forward trusting, until the path becomes clear, unfolding before us.

For anyone out there reading, my story which is about to unfold and convince you that the minute you stop trying to make things happen, it mysteriously falls into place. So, the next time you find yourself out on a date and dancing dangerously close to doing the "dirty deed" too early in the game- remember, your personal power lies in your own hands. After all, a girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do... Do-be-do-be-do.