You know those things that men should just know and do? (Kill bugs, repair cars, take out the trash, fix things.)
Well, what if roles were reversed? Could we get used to the idea of a woman doing “man things” and a man doing “women things”?
I always have kept ‘one-eyed opened’ when a man tells me he wants to go shopping with me. But, it got me thinking…when I whip out my tools to fix a loose leg of a chair, does he think I’m butch?
I grew up in a house wherein my father didn’t know how to fix anything. He hired people. And he never ever went clothing shopping. My mother on the other hand always “tried” to fix things and she bought all his clothes. As for my siblings…we were given gender appropriate tasks: Brother took out the trash, my sister and I did dishes and helped with the laundry.
The other day a guy I have been dating asked me what I was doing, and I replied, “fixing my sink.” He went on to joke about me dialing a plumber … and I was like no, I put on my kitchen gloves, turned off the water, and got out my wrench. He found this odd yet titillating at the same time.
After being a homeowner for a number of years, there are just some things I always found I could do on my own. And every roommate I’ve ever had will admit I am a spider and/or bug killer.
Is it wrong to have these certain skills? Do we really need to be subservient to male roles? Haven’t we moved beyond that?
Looking back, I remember my dad going to a barber, but today’s men have a hairdresser. And is it me, or have men been using more and more “beauty products” lately? Times have changed.
When it comes to fixing my car, I am utterly clueless. This why I have a AAA card and call them then I get a flat tire. But what if I could jack up the car, and replace the muffler? And hell, fix my boyfriends car too?
What if your straight boyfriend was sewing curtains on a Saturday afternoon vs. playing ball, would that be odd…or would you buy him some fabric to make you some too?
So let’s go there, would you hire a female plumber, electrician or exterminator? What about a male maid, make-up consultant, or gynecologist?
I don’t have any answers, but I am amused by my re-conditioning of the male and female roles and now more than ever wondering what he really thought about me fixing my own sink. Hum.
by Heidi Carson
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Funky Scent
What do Matthew McConaughey, Robert Pattinson, Colin Farrell, and Johnny Depp have in common? Funk? Odor? Halitosis?
They allegedly smell.
I received a call from a friend “I need your advice, I think I have a deal killer.” Her story: she had been chasing this guy for a few weeks – Type: Hot actor, they were doing a show together and had been flirting. Finally he got up enough courage and asked her out on a date. “We made out in the parking lot, and he is a great kisser, but he just had um, body odor.”
Deal killer maybe, mood killer for sure.
My advice was simple…their “make out” was, of course, after a rehearsal. So maybe he was a bit physical under the hot lights and as such…had some odor. Cut him some slack and not pass judgment until after a real date wherein he would probably shower.
My friend Troy outlined it best: “Men are like mayonnaise. You leave them out in the sun for eight hours you can expect bad things.”
But it got me thinking about scents. Have you ever walked through the mall, or been standing in line at the coffee shop, or even hanging at the DMV, and there, walking past you is a nice smelling man. He’s put together, hair in place, clothes are ironed, and he carries an air of confidence. You notice him.
Or how about those moments when you are about to have a first kiss, and somewhere in the last two minutes he must have slipped in a mint, yet you aren’t really sure when? I take appreciation in that attention to detail. In fact, recently I was on a date and my date slipped out to the bathroom before departing the restaurant, and he must have had a cherry lozenge. It was nice.
But body odor. Hum…whole new issue. There is a certain basic cleanliness you should attend to before you go a courtin’. Now, there are those who are attracted to, shall we say, the “natural scent” and I’ve done enough traveling in Europe and regions abroad, and met women who have no issue with those who forego the use of daily deodorant applications. This is not me.
And then on the other side of the coin, there are those that go WAY overboard with their colognes. In fact, just the other day I was daytripping with a new guy and we had a “close quarters” ambush with a gentleman who went a little liberal with his Old Spice application. I could literally taste this guy’s cologne and had to move to another part of the store. Be mindful of those around you: crowded areas like a bus, metro, or elevator can choke out the fresh air.
There needs to be a balance. A freshly bathed scent is just fine. If you are going to do physical activity, make sure your deodorant is working and for heaven’s sake, take a shower before you go on a date.
Monday, February 28, 2011
And The Winner Is....
What a difference a year makes.
Last year I wrote a blogpost about award season where was working and watching awards shows.
This year, I was the one at the parties and award shows.
I had sort of a “pinch me” moment while backstage at the Independent Spirit Awards. I was uncomfortable…. Didn’t know anyone and the only person I did know…was working with her headset on and rushing around. I watched Natalie Portman, Annette Benning, Mark Ruffalo, the entire cast of Winters Bone, and show host Joel McHale (who is very tall) all walk by. When a waiter came by and offered me an Irish Coffee (Jameson Irish Whiskey was their sponsor) I took it, and sipped down some confidence.
Going to these events is sort of like work. You get out there and talk with people, put together movie deals and meet those that can make things happen. My mantra was, “this is your year Heidi.” So I put on my party dress with that attitude. I was there to work. (And I was working in 5 inch heels and a nice sheen of new Josie Maran make-up.)
Later that evening I had a wingman, my manager Adam, to the Weinstein Company party at The SoHo House. I was not allowed to be a wallflower, he was working the room and introducing me to friends along the way. Work, work, work…this is work?
As I tried not to spill my cocktail, nor let the backpain that was starting to collect in my lower back get the better of me, (damn heels), Adam was setting up meetings for me to meet with producers, agents, and financiers. We literally worked the room. I saw former colleagues, friends, and old love interests. Work, work, work.
I scanned the room and started noticing patterns. I watched women bat their lashes at males in the room. Actors, agents, producers all sipping their “cocktail confidence” trying to get laid. There were posers acting like they were big shots, slutty actresses trying to book “jobs” on casting couches, and there were big actors wide eyed and trying to figure out where their publicists were. And then it hit me….what was I really doing here? I wanted these people to read my book, make it into a movie, hell, turn my life into a Cinderella tale.
As I clicked my heels together ala Dorothy and watched a cute little brunette, claws out, batting lashes, fixated on Adam, I made my breakaway and found a loan chair to give my feet a break. There I met a wonderful woman *Joan whose husband was “working” as she put it. (This wasn’t Joan’s first rodeo show.) “I hate award season” she lamented. Joan was not only going to this party, but the Oscars the next day. Her husband was nominated.
Sweet, a real insider.
Joan asked me about my story, why I was there, who was I there with etc. Telling her I was a writer was easy, and Joan was happy that I was just a normal, non-poser type, looking for love in a sea of “the enhanced”. Joan began her commentary on the women at this event pointing out bad boob jobs, lip injections, and hair extensions. “It’s all too much” and even their surgeons were at this party. (Really, people bring their plastic surgeons to Hollywood parties? “They are working the room too.” Fascinating.)
After a good thirty minutes of chatting with Joan, who promised to call me later and set me up with a “great guy not in the business”, she clinked my glass and left me to go find Adam.
Adam and I went from party to party, keeping up our “cocktail confidence” airs about us. Work, work, work. I finally cab-ed it home circa 1:00am, my business card holder empty, and a glass of water with a Tylenol as my new drink of choice. I was home.
I woke up Sunday morning and knew I had changed from a year ago. I had grown. Sure there were lessons and “access” I learned from my old job. But I had a new confidence, not alcohol induced, I was a published writer. People wanted to meet me. And I wasn’t in the shadows. I was re-born.
On Sunday, I received tweets from friends on red carpets (ohmiygod, they don’t have lit toilets for reporters at Elton John!) and watched an ex boyfriend perfect his comb-over on E! while mugging in the background. I happily watched the awards with a friend, cooked a fabulous meal and had a relaxed air. My friend turned to me and said, “you’re different”…if only he knew the real truth.
I was a winner too.
*Joan is not her real name, but her husband is now an Oscar winner.
Last year I wrote a blogpost about award season where was working and watching awards shows.
This year, I was the one at the parties and award shows.
I had sort of a “pinch me” moment while backstage at the Independent Spirit Awards. I was uncomfortable…. Didn’t know anyone and the only person I did know…was working with her headset on and rushing around. I watched Natalie Portman, Annette Benning, Mark Ruffalo, the entire cast of Winters Bone, and show host Joel McHale (who is very tall) all walk by. When a waiter came by and offered me an Irish Coffee (Jameson Irish Whiskey was their sponsor) I took it, and sipped down some confidence.
Going to these events is sort of like work. You get out there and talk with people, put together movie deals and meet those that can make things happen. My mantra was, “this is your year Heidi.” So I put on my party dress with that attitude. I was there to work. (And I was working in 5 inch heels and a nice sheen of new Josie Maran make-up.)
Later that evening I had a wingman, my manager Adam, to the Weinstein Company party at The SoHo House. I was not allowed to be a wallflower, he was working the room and introducing me to friends along the way. Work, work, work…this is work?
As I tried not to spill my cocktail, nor let the backpain that was starting to collect in my lower back get the better of me, (damn heels), Adam was setting up meetings for me to meet with producers, agents, and financiers. We literally worked the room. I saw former colleagues, friends, and old love interests. Work, work, work.
I scanned the room and started noticing patterns. I watched women bat their lashes at males in the room. Actors, agents, producers all sipping their “cocktail confidence” trying to get laid. There were posers acting like they were big shots, slutty actresses trying to book “jobs” on casting couches, and there were big actors wide eyed and trying to figure out where their publicists were. And then it hit me….what was I really doing here? I wanted these people to read my book, make it into a movie, hell, turn my life into a Cinderella tale.
As I clicked my heels together ala Dorothy and watched a cute little brunette, claws out, batting lashes, fixated on Adam, I made my breakaway and found a loan chair to give my feet a break. There I met a wonderful woman *Joan whose husband was “working” as she put it. (This wasn’t Joan’s first rodeo show.) “I hate award season” she lamented. Joan was not only going to this party, but the Oscars the next day. Her husband was nominated.
Sweet, a real insider.
Joan asked me about my story, why I was there, who was I there with etc. Telling her I was a writer was easy, and Joan was happy that I was just a normal, non-poser type, looking for love in a sea of “the enhanced”. Joan began her commentary on the women at this event pointing out bad boob jobs, lip injections, and hair extensions. “It’s all too much” and even their surgeons were at this party. (Really, people bring their plastic surgeons to Hollywood parties? “They are working the room too.” Fascinating.)
After a good thirty minutes of chatting with Joan, who promised to call me later and set me up with a “great guy not in the business”, she clinked my glass and left me to go find Adam.
Adam and I went from party to party, keeping up our “cocktail confidence” airs about us. Work, work, work. I finally cab-ed it home circa 1:00am, my business card holder empty, and a glass of water with a Tylenol as my new drink of choice. I was home.
I woke up Sunday morning and knew I had changed from a year ago. I had grown. Sure there were lessons and “access” I learned from my old job. But I had a new confidence, not alcohol induced, I was a published writer. People wanted to meet me. And I wasn’t in the shadows. I was re-born.
On Sunday, I received tweets from friends on red carpets (ohmiygod, they don’t have lit toilets for reporters at Elton John!) and watched an ex boyfriend perfect his comb-over on E! while mugging in the background. I happily watched the awards with a friend, cooked a fabulous meal and had a relaxed air. My friend turned to me and said, “you’re different”…if only he knew the real truth.
I was a winner too.
*Joan is not her real name, but her husband is now an Oscar winner.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Single, Divorced, Long Term-ers
In my many years on this planet, I’ve dated men that fit into many many categories. So I’ve begun to poll my dates and friends for their thoughts on dating those who are single, divorced, and those who have been in long term relationships but never married. While my statistics are not scientific, it’s helped me in my dating life. So let me fill you in.
MEN (Perspective from women dating men)
• Single Guys under 35: Looking for the hot chick in her 20’s. Not necessarily looking for a baby momma. (And always carry condoms.)
• Single Guys over 40: Houston we have a problem. They have never been married but think they have all the answers and just haven’t met “the one”. Men and women are different…it’s time to learn this and respect each other’s individually for if we are too similar…it would be weird.
• Long Term-ers: Scared of the future. They are stuck in their ways and getting married will just be too different for them. They would rather you leave them than force them to get married. “It’s just a piece of paper” anyway.
• Divorced Guys (divorced less than 5 years): Don’t want to get married ever. She took them to the cleaners and they are pissed off. Oh and you better be hot so he can show you off in case of a run in.
WOMEN (Perspective from men dating women)
• Single Women under 25: Looking for a good time. Into their careers and climbing the ladder…so let’s just have fun.
• Single Women between 25-38: Looking for a baby daddy. Men sense this right away and run if scared. (Men carry condoms).
• Single Women 38 plus: They are there to be a cheer leader to a divorced guy.
• Single Women 45 plus (and never married): All men think you have ten cats. (I know you don’t…I’m just sayin…don’t talk about your odd hobbies.)
• Long term-ers: Totally frustrated by men and want the ring within 6 months of dating men.
• Divorced Women (divorced less than 5 years): Cougars on the prowl. Just want to have sex and it can be with the pool man, cable guy, and random hot dude who bags your groceries. Not looking for divorced dad types…yet.
• Divorced Women (divorced over 5 years): Want the Brady Bunch situation. You have kids, he has kids…let’s make this work. Finally ready for a real relationship.
Again…no hate mail on this…this is just what I’ve heard out there. I started asking after I started dating some men who were divorced (something I had not done a lot of early on) and well…it’s odd how they fit into various categories. Of course there are always exceptions to the rule and there are categories I know I haven’t even thought of. I’m just trying to sum up my “research”.
All this to say…if you are recently divorced, I don’t think you are banging your pool guy per se. It’s just that many of my male friends tell me women go through a “mid-life crisis” once their divorce papers are signed. I’m just stating what I’m being told.
But let’s keep the debate going…if you have a story: please email me:
heididcarson@gmail.com
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