(Part 1) It's An Odd Feeling When A Date You Don't Know Cancels

I started online dating again. In the past, I was on Match and, with the exception of a few guys, I met a lot of... characters. None of the men looked like their pictures and two showed up wearing Hawaiian shirts. I try to experience every date like a new adventure, but the guys I met on that site had to be the most lackluster men in L.A. I remember meeting Larry, a real estate insurance claims investigator, at his favorite chain restaurant (this last sentence would have been more than enough warning for any woman not to go). I stared into my glass of bad red wine, trying to visualize where all the exits were located. Maybe during his long pontification, I could sneak out undetected through the side door. But no, I was sentenced to two hours before he took a breath, and I could interject to say my parking meter had surely run out.

I tried eHarmony too and met one very smart, interesting man. My initial impression of Mark was that he was gay. He worked in publishing, looked about 50, was dressed nicely but just seemed to be more effeminate than any straight man should be. He was also the ex-husband of a very wealthy woman, who is a friend of my former boss... which made me feel immediately insecure because she makes 100 times more money than I do. We sat at the bar and talked for two hours and never experienced a pregnant pause. But, it was getting late and, although I enjoyed my time with Mark, I did not have any romantic interest in him, and I suspected he felt the same way toward me. As I thanked him for the drinks and stood up from my barstool, he took particular notice of my footwear and complimented me, "Those are beautiful shoes you have on," he said. I was wearing a pair of Pradas I purchased at the end-of-a-season sale from Neiman Marcus 5 years ago, and realized Mark probably already knew that.

If I never went on another dating site in my life, I could die a happy woman. But I had lunch with a business associate last week who mentioned his son met "a really fantastic girl" on "Millionaire Match". "They've been dating for over a year," he said. I had checked out Millionaire Match in the past but felt artificial trying to find a man based solely on his net worth. However, you don't have to be a millionaire to be on the site and, in order to write about dating, I have to actually go out on a few dates, so I pulled up the website and joined.

The next morning I had multiple emails in my inbox from potential suitors. The first guy I clicked on had put me in his 'favorite' box. He was nice looking, so I read his profile and thought that we had common values and interests. I sent him a brief email. He called me later that night and I immediately liked the sound of his voice, which was kind and soulful. Our conversation lasted for a couple of hours, covering a lot of personal ground. The anonymity of a few photos and a phone provided free license for an open and honest conversation with a total stranger. Closely examining Steve's picture, he told me that he was often referred to as the 'Jewish Richard Gere,' which is ironic since people tell me I look like Julia Roberts because of her big, red curly hair in "Pretty Woman" (and I'm friends with the "Latino Richard Gere"). Steve's a native New Yorker from a prominent family, who now lives in a small town in Northern California-- 374 miles away, according to Millionaire Match.

Other notable emails included a dinner invitation from a 6'6" Yugoslavian man in Santa Monica, WHO TYPED ALL IN CAPS. Six feet, six inches, is really tall. "Oxygen doesn't travel to the brain the same way when you're that tall," noted a male friend. "I'd be careful with that one." A very handsome Italian man in San Diego sent me an email that said, "I don't like name Carolyn, I'm calling Carmela". I thought he was making some obscure reference to "The Sopranos," but no, he just didn't like my name Carolyn and was calling me Carmela. The last email from him that I read said, "Can u make me a star like clooney status???? Lol". (Part 2 continued below...)

(Part 2) It's An Odd Feeling When A Date You Don't Know Cancels

I also received an email from a "75% Italian and 25% Persian" Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, whose specialties are noses and boobs. Danny's profile said he was 40, but he looked more like 50. He emailed me his phone number and wrote "call me". However, my own experience has proven that I have much better luck when a guy is pursuing me, so I emailed him back with my number instead. "How much do you weigh?" he immediately asked. "138," I responded. I weighed myself that morning and knew I was 141, but "130-something" sounds much better than "140-something" so I lied about 3 pounds. "Have you ever had any work done?" "No," I said. I understand the attraction to plastic surgery, however needles, botox and cutting flesh scare me. He directed me to his website to prove he was really a surgeon. There were 'before' and 'after' pictures posted of a nose job and a breast enhancement. I have to admit the new boobs looked really natural. "Would you ever have yours done?" he asked. "I like my breasts," I said, "So, no, I would not 'enhance' them". Was he looking for a date or more clients?

Our superficial conversation carried on for about 15 minutes. He told me that he had only met two women from the site. The first 'woman' he met actually turned out to be a man and the second woman was 200 pounds heavier than the picture she emailed him, which is why I didn't take offense to his pointed questioning. However, since he was being blunt, I also took liberty. "You look older than 40 and you sound tired," "That's because I haven't slept in 9 years," he responded. "Everyone thinks I'm older because most of my friends are doctors in their 60s." He then asked if I drank and what kind of alcohol I prefer. Red wine or vodka are my typical choices. "What about tequila?" "Yeah, tequila's ok," I answered. "We should get along just fine." he said. I didn't feel like I had much in common with Danny, but I didn't know anyone like him and thought dinner could be an interesting and colorful experience. I agreed to meet him later, after his soccer game. "What are you going to wear?" Ballsy question, but clearly he was gunshy from his two prior, shocking experiences. "A black dress and heels," "What length?" he inquired. "To the knee," I replied. "I like black," he stated, "Now it's your turn to ask me questions." I didn't need to. I knew more than enough.

A few hours later, Danny called. We talked for a bit about his soccer game, before he said he was really tired and just wanted to get home, shower and go to bed. He cancelled... After 9 years, he finally wanted to go to sleep. I had rearranged plans to accommodate dinner with him. It was an odd feeling to have a date with someone I didn't even know, cancel on me. He asked if we could reschedule next weekend. "Can't. I have a friend coming into town."

So here I was on a Saturday night, content watching the SAG Awards (I wanted Jeremy Renner to win for THE HURT LOCKER!) when I received an email from Steve that said "... stop looking at all those boys online, you have a date!!!" My 'friend' coming into town next weekend is Steve, the Jewish Richard Gere. He booked a hotel room and a ticket to L.A. Yikes... I hope we have the same chemistry in person that we have on the phone.

"You're Like A Dude With Boobs..."

...said David, "and I mean that as a compliment." I was in Salt Lake City with David, Kyle and Bob. We had just wrapped a shoot and were eating and drinking at an Italian restaurant, before catching our plane back to Los Angeles. I accepted what David said as a compliment, but then wondered ultimately if I had lost my femininity around men. I grew up with three brothers, I work in a male-dominated industry, my friends are mostly men, and I enjoy the company of men. I'm around men 24/7, yet I'm single and date infrequently. Have I become too much like one of the guys that men aren't interested in me as a woman anymore?

"If I keep eating this way, I'm going to look like a dude with boobs," exclaimed Bob. I laughed as I contemplated my predicament.

My insecurities rose to the surface. Do I need to be more feminine? Should I change my wardrobe? Let's face it, working in independent film and on nonprofit videos, doesn't leave me with much discretionary income for clothing. Teenagers in Los Angeles have a better wardrobe than I do. Maybe I need to dress sexier. Hmm.

Yesterday, I met Tom Ford at the Spirit Awards brunch. I introduced myself and told him our movies were nominated in the same category. I was quite taken by how exceptionally polished and handsome he is up close. Most celebrities look quite different in person, but Tom Ford, wearing his signature sunglasses, could have walked right out of a color, glossy, high-fashion magazine ad. Not a whisker was out of place. He's undeniably handsome and has a movie star look. (I predict Tom Ford will be starring in his own next film). A photographer approached us, asking to take our picture, so we turned and I placed my hand on the back of his 'Tom Ford' jacket. "Oooh, cashmere" I cooed. "This is the most casual outfit I have," he said. "Really?" I said, "This is the most dressed up I get." "No, I do have jeans," he corrected before he graciously exited. I began to assess my own outfit: my favorite J Brand jeans, Zara jacket, Hugo Boss white-collared shirt and Charles David shoes. Oh god, did I really just introduce myself to Tom Ford looking like this? I quickly reassessed the room of independent filmmakers and took solace in the fact that ok, I think I fit in just fine with everyone else.

Slightly frantic however, I called my brother Leo and asked him if he thought it was bad to be called 'a dude with boobs'. "Well, I don't think it's good," he said, "Objectively speaking, you're pretty and sexy so that's not an issue. But you 'don't suffer fools gladly' and men don't want someone to call them on their bullshit." He's right, I thought. And working in the entertainment industry for the past 20 years, certainly hasn't made me any softer. I contemplated a past relationship. My biggest problem with Kent was that he never dealt with any of his own personal issues. He literally and figuratively swept everything under the rug. It was hard for me to respect a man who wasted opportunities to learn and grow. But, at the very least, I knew after speaking with my brother, that my problem wasn't with my wardrobe.

"Men like that moment of surrender,'' said Ivan, a friend of mine for ages, "That's what it's all about, that moment when the woman surrenders to you". I understood immediately. I know the moment he described and any woman who has ever read a romance novel knows that moment too. Many women's fantasy is to be seduced and eventually succumb to their ideal man. I am no different. But, how could I ever 'succumb' and be 'conquered' if I was considered to be one of the guys?

I did not know where to turn for an answer so I decided to call David and ask him to explain exactly what he meant. "You are very comfortable hanging out with men and can laugh at the same stupid things guys laugh at without acting superior like some women do, especially when it gets really raunchy." Ok, but I asked him if I lost my femininity in the process? "No, Carolyn, besides having red hair, you're a ball of fire," he stated, "You're smart, in touch with your emotions, honest, tall, have long arms..." My confidence was coming back (but is having long arms a good thing? "...but men are fearful of these things and because you are powerful, I think you scare guys off." Oof. I have heard this before... many times. I was sinking back into insecurity. But what do I do? If I had the answer, I wouldn't be writing about my experiences looking for a meaningful relationship in Los Angeles. But what I do know is my life would be a lot less rich if I didn't know all the men who are in my life-- including David who has an amazing wife and kids, is very close to his mother, easy to talk with and completely comfortable around women. As a matter of fact, I thought, David, you're just like a "chick with a penis."

Never Bring a Handsome Man to an Event with Single Men...

...I learned this very important lesson last night. Never be with a handsome man when you're trying to meet single guys. Maybe you already know this (clearly I wasn't thinking) but men lose interest if you are with someone better looking than they are. A client kindly invited me and a guest to a fundraising dinner where one of the videos I produced was being shown to the audience. This particular nonprofit provides free legal services to the underprivileged in Los Angeles and many of their clients are Hispanic. I invited my friend Ivo to join, because he had translated all the Spanish interviews during production and I thought he would be interested in seeing the finished product. There were approximately 950 people attending, mostly attorneys, mostly men and many of them single. I was looking forward to attending.

Once I arrived, I ordered a glass of red wine to help take the edge off of my busy day and feel more confident talking with random strangers. I walked around the crowded room, and came upon three attractive men, who were all probably mid 40s and single (i.e. they weren't wearing wedding rings). They happened to glance over and, as I started to smile, I noticed that any glint of interest, or hint of a smile faded, as Ivo approached from behind me and stood by my side. What was I thinking?! Ivo is an exceptionally handsome man. He is from Argentina, a famous telenovela actor and was in PEOPLE Magazine a handful of years ago as the "Latino Richard Gere". What man in his right mind would approach me to talk if I'm with one of the most handsome men on the planet? Right! And no one did!

I've known Ivo for 7 years and have witnessed women fly across the room, shove me in the chest and stomp on my foot in order to get close to him. He has that charisma that has brought him just as much heartache and pain, as joy to his life. So, what did I do since I was interested in meeting single men but I am with one of the most handsome men in the world? Am I an idiot? Here I am with one of the most handsome men in the world, watching a video I produced on a big screen in front of many people. It was an amazing evening and it was nice to be able to share that experience with one of my closest friends.

What is the Most Important Trait You Look For in a Man?

Intellectual compatibility is at the top of my list. But I'm not deluding myself into thinking that's what men look for in women.

You know when you see those couples sitting across from one another where the guy is far from good-looking and the woman is outrageously gorgeous, and she's going on and on about whatever-it-is-that-she's-going-on-and-on-about and the guy is eating his food, completely drowning out the sound of her voice, wishing he was somewhere else? Clearly, there is no intellectual compatibility happening here and I wonder if the beautiful girlfriend, sex and credit card bills are worth the sound of her voice and intellectual incapacity.

I had an experience last year with my own "blonde" scenario. He was brunette actually, from Brazil, a trainer and aspiring musician, who I will call Leonardo. Leonardo and his American friend, Mike, were standing behind me at a Cost Plus World Market, as I was pricing rugs. I happened to turn quickly and caught them looking at me. This doesn't usually happen, so I wasn't sure exactly what it was they were doing. But Leonardo copped to the fact that he had seen my red hair from across the parking lot and dragged his friend with him into the store to check me out closer. Most guys wouldn't give you this information because they would try to play it cool, which is why Mike said, "Dude, don't tell her that." I laughed. Clearly, Leonardo wore his heart on his sleeve and that was ok with me.

He was dark and handsome with a Brazilian accent and an awesome body. Mike did most of the talking, while Leonardo nodded and chimed in words here or there. Somehow we got on the discussion of kids and I said I did not have any kids, nor did I have plans to bring any more children into this world. Leonardo said, 'But if you got pregnant, then you would have a kid right?" My first thought was, at 44, it would be difficult for me to just 'get pregnant' without lots of doctors, test tubes and artificial insemination, and this is a road I have no desire to go down. When I'm 50, I want to be traveling around the world and be living a leisurely lifestyle, not driving my kid to soccer practice. My second thought was, this guy is already thinking about poking holes in the condom, and getting me pregnant-- and I don't even know his last name.

It had been quite some time since any stranger approached me and asked me out on a date. So I gave Leonardo my number, which he promptly punched into his cell phone. Mike told him to dial me and make sure I gave him my correct number. He didn't. He already knew I did and he was right. Leonardo was definitely more trusting and trustworthy than Mike.

We met for lunch a few days later and walked around the Grove in Los Angeles. We went into a Barnes & Noble and I followed Leonardo to the metaphysical section. He knew right where the "Birthday Book" was and took it off the shelf so we could read how our relationship might work out. We were no match made in heaven according to the book, but mostly because Leonardo had not remembered my birth date correctly. We made the adjustment and discovered we would still need to work really hard to make our relationship last. I thought it was funny but Leonardo took this information to heart.

We dated briefly and, honestly, there wasn't much talking happening. I had not been seeing anyone for quite some time so the sexual activity was welcome. The only problem was I couldn't have an intellectual conversation with Leonardo. He was quite knowledgeable of nutrition and training the physical body, but we couldn't connect much past those two topics, or him talking about wanting to get back into music business again. (Apparently Leonardo was in a famous 80s Brazilian band that had a hit song-- think Flock of Seagulls, but with dark hair). I found myself sitting across the table from him, drowning out his voice and wishing I was somewhere else.

One night he wanted me to try his favorite pizza from a Bossa Nova. We conversed on the phone for about 7 minutes discussing how he would pick up the pizza, and I would make the salad and buy a bottle of wine-- a conversation that should really only take about 30 seconds. We went back and forth, me always repeating the same end result-- he was getting the pizza and I was making salad and getting wine. He texted me at every turn: when he left his house, when he arrived at the restaurant, when he got the pizza and when he was on his way to my house. I precisely knew when to open the door (since he had just texted me that he was at the front door). He followed me into the kitchen and said in his heavy accent, "Oh Carolyn, why did you make a salad? Oh Carolyn, now we have so much food." This was typical. I would repeat things over and over and Leonardo would always react as if it was the first time he heard it. And, "No, really?!" was his constant refrain.

The more I sat across from him and listened to him drone on and on about food, working out or his music career going nowhere, the less interested I was in sleeping with him. Could I have a purely sexual relationship with someone who I didn't connect with on an intellectual level? I know people do it all the time. But I was starting to feel like the man in this relationship and that's not a role I wanted to fill. I'm very independent, but when it comes to relationships, I like to be the woman and I want the man to be the man. Leonardo was definitely sweet, a nice person and honest-- all good traits I admired in him. But I just couldn't continue. At this point in my life, I didn't want to be in a relationship that was only all about sex. I wanted someone who could go on mental and physical journeys with me. I stopped answering Leonardo's texts. "I pulled a dude," according to one of my male friends. Leonardo promptly de-friended me on Facebook and then sent an email a week later asking why I no longer wanted to see him. It was a fair question, so I replied to him that even though we communicated very well on a physical level, we were not compatible intellectually and that I was interested in pursuing a long-term relationship.

Two months later I ran into Leonardo at Chipotle at the Grove. We chatted a bit and as I was getting into my car, Leonardo asked if I would be interested in seeing him again. "A friend with benefits?" he asked. I repeated again that I was looking for a long-term relationship. "No, really?" he asked, "I thought you didn't want a long-term relationship". "Exactly," I said, as I got into my car and drove off.

My First Boyfriend Found Me on Facebook and Wants to Come To L.A. For A Visit

We dated 25 years ago. Brian was 28, divorced, Jewish and an attorney. I was 19 and I had just finished my freshman year at college. At that time, most mothers would have raised an eyebrow about the age difference between us. However, my mother, lamenting her own cash-poor, failed marriage, and who raised us saying, "you can marry the rich ones just as easily as the poor ones" heard "Jewish" and "attorney" and prayed that I would live a better life than she did. The fact that Brian was divorced didn't bother her either. "That just means he's already gotten the bad marriage out of the way," she noted.

I liked Brian and I liked having an older boyfriend. We went to dinner parties, ate at nice restaurants, read books and went to museum exhibits. He was smart, successful and quirky. And, if I remember correctly, we had been dating for about 6 months when Brian bought a condo, which I helped him scrub clean and then I never heard from him again. I asked one of Brian's friends what happened and he told me that Brian wanted to marry an attorney so he was hanging out at the local university law libraries. I was devastated. I didn't eat for 2 weeks and worked out every day. (My mother told me I looked great and whatever diet I was on, was working.) This was my first official dumping and it happened the day after I cleaned his toilet.

I wasn't surprised when I received an email from Brian a few months ago. Since the internet has made it so easy to find people, I occasionally receive emails from men from my past who are recently divorced or are going through a mid-life crisis. Brian lives in St. Louis, is divorced a second time, has two adorable kids and hasn't been on a date in more than a year. I pulled up his page on Facebook. He only had one photo posted, wearing sunglasses and a hat, but he still looked cute.

"I remember the first time I saw you," he wrote me, "looking very conservative, sitting in the afternoon sun, your legs crossed, your head tilted to one side to avoid the sun. Then, the next time I saw you was at a Mexican restaurant at 2 in the morning and you had on leopard high heels and a short black skirt." I remembered that night. My childhood friend, Diane Dazey, and I had gone to a Rod Stewart concert and stopped on the way home to get food. "So why did you stop calling?" I asked him. "I don't really remember," he said. "Maybe it was because I knew you wanted to leave St. Louis and I knew I would stay, and I really wanted to start a family". He hadn't remembered dumping me, yet he had a really romantic view of our failed relationship. "You were the gold standard for every other girl I met," he said. "You were supportive and really easy to talk to. I didn't have to explain things to you, and you had a great sense of humor. I compared every girl I ever dated to you." And he dumped me because...?

I'm glad Brian remembered me the way he did because I was an internal mess at 19. I grew up in a very sarcastic family, with a disconnected mother and an unsupportive father. "Too bad our dads didn't raise us like Gwyneth Paltrow's did," said a mutually dysfunctional friend. I was incredibly shy (anyone who knows me now doesn't believe me, but I was) and I had low self-esteem, which I hid well by keeping my mouth shut in public. Born with frizzy, red hair in humid St. Louis during the mid-60s wasn't a confidence booster either. But at 19, I was finally coming into my own. My hair was longer, my job afforded me some decent clothes and I'd finally lost my virginity. Oh, and he was right, I couldn't wait to get out of St. Louis. I had wanted to move to New York since I was 5.

How did I remember Brian? He was a germaphobe. When we went to the movies, he would place a paper towel on the seat. He would never touch anything in a public restroom, and would use the towel he dried his hands with, to open the door, and then throw the towel on the floor, not having to touch anything. He got angry with me once for getting a speck of chocolate from my Snicker's bar on the upholstery of his new Honda Accord. Each time we slept together, he took a shower right after. These were the thoughts dancing in my head as Brian

told me how he had been thinking about me for the past 25 years. Admittedly, my memories were a lot less rosy since I was the dumpee, and I hadn't thought about Brian in a long time. But 25 years later, we were laughing on the phone and realized we had many similar tastes. I talked with Brian for hours for three weeks before we settled on a date for him to come.

I was looking forward to his visit to Los Angeles. When I first saw him standing curbside at LAX, I noticed he was shorter than I remembered. He was wearing plaid Converse sneakers, True Religion jeans, a striped scarf, and a black corduroy jacket with something black embroidered on the back of it. At 53, he was quite metrosexual and trendy, even for L.A. After checking in at his hotel, we got a bite to eat and a cocktail. Later, we had more cocktails with my good friend Julie, and eventually ended up at her house with her husband and son. They loved Brian. He's successful, creative, smart and nice. If they had their wish, Brian would have proposed to me over the weekend. We went to the beach, drove to Montecito and Santa Barbara, ate out quite a bit and just talked, watched movies and hung out. Brian was very easy to get along with and actually, quite passive. 25 years had gone by, but it seemed like yesterday. Brian returned to St. Louis that Monday and we've been talking, emailing and texting ever since. After Christmas, he sent me one of his paintings, which I really like and hung above my dresser. I suspect we will see each other again. Until then...

"He's a Nice Guy, Just Not The Right Guy For Me"

Apparently I say this a lot, according to Steve, the FBI agent I met online. I remember when I first saw his picture. He looked rugged and handsome-- a manly man, which I like. Something about his picture said "law enforcement" (probably the full head of short, spiky hair) and in his profile, he said he liked his life to be "simple, simple, simple". I don't like drama either, but a potential cop who wrote 'simple' three times in one short paragraph, led me to believe this guy, himself, could very well be a 'simpleton,' so I clicked on the next profile.

The next day I got an email from Steve. On this particular dating site, you can track anyone who has clicked on you, so Steve knew I had checked him out and then moved on. He sent me an email. We talked a couple of times on the phone and it took about 20 seconds to realize that Steve is very smart and pretty funny too. We decided to meet for a drink at Firefly in Studio City-- a great place to meet online dates. I arrived on time (I believe it's important to be consistent with any relationship). Steve called me from his car to let me know he was running a few minutes late. I asked him if I could order him a cocktail. "What are you drinking?" he asked. "A lemon drop and it's really good," I said. "I feel like drinking a frou-frou drink too. Yeah, order me one of those." I liked this guy. A real man isn't afraid to order a 'girl drink'.

Anyone who has dated online knows that people rarely look like their pictures. I never understood why a woman would post an old picture of her former self. You're setting yourself up for guaranteed disappointment. Guys are visual beings so their first interest in you is going to be what you look like. Don't show them a picture of a younger you and then deliver an older model. One guy I know asked a woman why she posted a 10 year-old photo. Her response was, "I thought once you got to know me, you would love me". "She was lying about who she was before I even met her, " he said. "How can I trust someone like that?" Guys do it too, but women are usually more forgiving.

So, it's rare when your date walks in and he's actually more handsome than his photo. I thought, worst-case scenario, Steve would walk in with a few extra pounds and have a receding hairline, but he came in with a big smile on his face, tan and buff. He was really handsome. After we exchanged pleasantries, I asked to see his FBI badge. I've seen enough episodes of Dateline and 20/20 to know people lie, and what better place to lie than online dating sites? Steve seemed authentic, but it's always practical to see some identification anyway. He showed me his badge and cuffs, and lifted up his shirt slightly, where I saw the gun locked in his holster. I have to admit it's, really hot to be out with a gun-carrying FBI agent, who also commands his own SWAT team. I've dated enough guys who run when faced with danger, so it was nice to be out with a real man who would actually protect me.

It was last call and neither one of us felt like going home. I lived close by but didn't think it was smart to bring a guy back to my house, who I had just met. We sat in his car and talked for another hour before we kissed. It's always interesting kissing someone for the first time. Is he a good kisser? Is he aggressive, or more passive, romantic or rough, or, my favorite, a combination of all of the above? Steve was a good kisser.

We went out a couple more times-- He came over for dinner and I drove way out to the suburbs where he lived a couple of times. Our lives were very different. He's a suburban, baseball-coaching dad on a schedule and I'm a never married, kid-less producer who works 24/7, and travels as much as I can. I'm organized, but would not describe my life as "simple" by any means. If we were meant for each other, we would have worked it out, but we weren't, so we didn't and remain friends. Steve is actually a really nice guy, just not the right guy for me.

My Goal To Finding a Meaningful Relationship

I am 44 and have never married. I grew up in the midwest and, like many girls, held a magic number in my mind of the age by which I would be married and starting a family. '28' was my magic number and that was 16 years ago. I'm currently single, not in a relationship and dating in Hollywood.

Is there anything wrong with being single? No! Absolutely not. The current divorce rate in America is 50%, a fact that is constantly driven into my brain when fighting couples with screaming kids turn to me and say, "you're so lucky you're single". Then there are the times like when my 13 year old dog Jake died and I wasn't in a relationship with a man whose loving arms I could cry into. (My best friend Julie promptly filled in). In hindsight, I have been 'proposed' to twice and both men were financially stable so if I had married and divorced both times, I could probably be living a pretty comfortable life right now.

However, I have been working and supporting myself since I was 16 and the concept of money, a nice house and an expensive car has never been a bargaining chip with me. A partner with whom I can build a deep, loving and trusting friendship is what I seek, and what I have committed myself to finding (or at least to looking for) this year-- in addition to finding more clients, producing a movie and well, just living my life.

Is it possible to find the man I seek? I don't know. But, by writing about my experiences, I hope to learn more about who I am and the kind of man I am looking to share and build a life with. I also hope to strengthen my friendships, by opening my heart and mind to any experience that comes my way. What I do know is looking for someone special and sharing all of my experiences will be loads of fun!