Am I Being Too Picky?
Jan08

Am I Being Too Picky?

I’m normally a relationship guy. My two prior relationships lasted a combined total of 36 months, minus the 3-month break in one of them. The funny thing about breaking up is time, and how much of it becomes available instantly. It feels like I’m skinny dipping, swimming faster than Michael Phelps even with my gargantuan amounts of body hair. My typical reaction would be to change my relationship status, reach out to the friends I...

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Six Things I Didn’t Do Yesterday
Jan02

Six Things I Didn’t Do Yesterday

Olive and I were eating at Johnny Rockets in Bakersfield on New Year’s Day. She likes to sit at the bar, spin in her seat, and people watch. I do too. An absolutely gorgeous woman walks in with two small children, a boy and a girl. They sit a few seats down from us, meaning they like the bar scene also. My first order of business is to look for a ring. It’s the polite thing to do, right? No ring. Woohoo! The local news shows up with a...

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X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter
Dec15

X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter

Let me start by saying I’m not a big fan of those blog titles with a predetermined number of ways or whys. It’s every other post I see in my News Feed, and now I’m contributing to the madness. I’m sorry but it has to happen. Actually, what happened was HuffPost asked me to come up with a couple of reasons why you should date a single dad. As I started writing some ideas down, I noticed that I have no clue what...

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My Love-Hate With Online Dating
Sep06

My Love-Hate With Online Dating

I contacted my friend Carla, owner of Huckleberry Market on California’s central coast. I needed a quote on roses. I inquired, “How much does 10 dozen roses cost? I don’t need a vase, only stems. And can this easily be carried?” She replied, “You will look like you’re carrying a rose garden and it would be $648 with tax.” That’s the cost of The Girlfriend Experience; 120 roses. Online...

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Stepping Up to the Plate
May24

Stepping Up to the Plate

I was about nine years old when my parents would come home from work, shut their bedroom door behind them, and start arguing.  There wasn’t a pillow large enough that could hide me from the sound.  Parents try preparing their children for everything, but not this.  I’d leave the house to the nearby junior high where boys my same age practiced baseball.  You’d hear things like, “Two down,” from the chubby one with gear on behind home...

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