Planes,Trains and I Love You

When boiling an egg, setting up a job interview or catching a plane, timing is everything. Is the timing in asking all the right questions as crucial in a relationship? Does it really matter when you speak of love? Does the fact that timing plays a top billing role tell you all you need to know? Before you ring the door bell, brush anything off your shoes that you don’t want to carry into the completely clean house of 2007. In the year of James Bond, everything is going to be shaken, not stirred.

If we could look into our heads while we are ascertaining just what to ask, and when to ask it, we would see the equivalent of ants going back and forth with no apparent reason. But if we had a clear cut directive of exactly what to say, and even better, when to put it out there, wouldn’t that be a picnic!

Alas Goldilocks, that is never going to happen. It’s part of the courtship dance at month 3 or year 7. Wouldn’t it be comforting to have some of the biggest questions set in cement? Hopefully more like Hollywood Boulevard handprints than the Jimmy Hoffa footwear line!

Right along with A, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” or B, “Out of sight out of mind”, is the eternal C, “Should I ask if love is there?” A good negotiator knows that the first one who talks loses. Does it come down to critical planning? Do we need a whiteboard and colored pens for strategy? Should we have studied the finer points of “Battleship” instead of wasting our youth playing “Yahtzee”?

There is quite a bit to do before climbing out upon the limb-of-no-return, because you can’t go back on “I love you". Once it is out there, it’s like chocolate mousse on a white dress, and speaking of white dresses, is all that white blinding us from the truth?

Saying a name into a mirror three times fogs up the mirror, and alcohol is not truth serum. Pushing someone to say anything that they are not ready to say has a legal connotation. It’s called COERCION! Anything used in a court of law is better left alone. Besides, the shotgun approach will always backfire and you will forever wonder what might have been if you had waited.

If you can’t wait boys and girls, and you don’t hear, feel or see any evil, maybe it’s time to crawl slowly along the limb. Ignore your heart beating like the drums at Mardi Gras, and since you might be there awhile, bring a picnic. You’ll be so intriguing, someone wonderful might join you. If not, enjoy the view from your beautiful and brave heart.
_________________________

Dear Miss Kitty,
I am a recently divorced guy and thinking about dating. I have had sex with the same woman for the last 16 years and just the thought of someone else, even though it does seem exciting, makes me a bit nervous. Thoughts?
-Sitting on the Fence of Love

Dear Fence,
So, you're worried about getting splinters... I understand. Sex with a new partner can be a bit daunting at first, but not all women have a legal pad by the bed and are taking notes. So, congrats for being so brave! My best kept secret is to learn each other slowly. That's what I call "Safe sex". It means that by the time you turn down the lights, snuggle close and kiss each other into the yes zone, you will have a good sense of what she likes and that she likes you. Sex is just like cooking: we never stop learning. So read up on technique, practice, and if she needs a little more salt, don't take it personally. Just adjust the seasoning accordingly.

A very special Happy New Year to Dr. W (My 106 year old fan!)

Frosty the Romance

Mistletoe hangs above a doorway, and as you pucker up for a stolen kiss… wait…. cut! You mean a parasite that kills trees is a sign to kiss? Something is really wrong here.

How many other signals tell us what is real, and more importantly, what is not, in the frosty world of Holiday Romance? The pressure to have a romantic interest, or an extremely happy partner, is piled upon us like the fruitcake that no one eats. Yes, boys and girls, the holiday season can be a particularly brutal time of year. Like the turkey, goose or roast sacrificed for the Holiday Table, no one is spared.

What could the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future teach us if they could take us on a guided tour of our perceived seasonal realities? Whom should we petition for a new collection of Holiday Messages? Hold the chains, Jacob Marley; this is going to be a long night.

Like Rudolph with his red nose, this can be a time when we feel particularly alone. It’s as if we are one of the creatures on the “Island of Misfit Toys”. A Barbie that doesn’t wear make up. A “Jack in the Box”, with a slow spring. Or maybe a Teddy Bear with limited stuffing.

Does December mark the official graduation from a year of dating? Since when is a trophy required in living color at the holiday office party? Do you have to show up at the Christmas Eve gathering with a smiling spouse, stuffed and mounted? Along with the egg nog that takes a starring role in the dairy case come November, all sorts of sickly sweet and heavy expectations rear up to clog our hearts.

Make those Sugar Plums stop dancing, and notice all the fabulous traditions that hold court, instead of holding hands. One Christmas tree. One Stocking per person (only the fishnets need be a pair!), even Santa makes the rounds alone. The “Wise Men” hang out as a cool threesome and have the bling thing down on Christmas Eve, because (yes), this IS when men shop! All the best people get through the season with style, no matter what.

A romantic interest can be nice, like getting free batteries with a toy soilder, but there is nothing wrong with enjoying the season with friends and family. So, if you do find yourself without a significant other, hug your fabulous self under the parasite - I mean, mistletoe. There is plenty of cheer to share, and the best thing to share is sharing itself. As far as the office parties go, skip “The Date”, enjoy your friends, and bring something slightly naughty for the gift exchange. A very interesting way to liven up the festivities…

Have a naughty day!

Cherries in the Snow

Like the desktop shortcuts on a PC, relationship titles become a cut to the chase. But is it a chase right out of a really good relationship or a heads up to get out of Dodge?

Why are these shortcuts, which are supposed to make everything easier for everyone, turned into something so complicated that even Houdini couldn’t find his way out?

Take the title “Girlfriend” or “Boyfriend” (Don’t even touch “Lover”, a king-size blow torch ready to ignite, unless you live in Europe). You are now in scary territory; the fence is closing around you and you can almost hear the clank of the cold gates of Sing Sing.

But what if the safest and coziest place is on the inside of the fence? A corral of expected expectations? What if the fence is chain link, so you can continue to view the outside world and confirm just how nice it is to know what can be relied upon? How sane to not reinvent the wheel.

Everything has a name but we don’t usually involve ourselves based on the moniker. No, we use other senses to make a judgment call on whatever it is that warrants our interest. Take Revlon’s “Cherries in the Snow". It’s red nail polish. That’s it; nothing to do with cherries, snow, or cherries in the snow.

A relationship sans name doesn’t bother us at first; we don’t even notice for a few months. We enjoy the ride. Then, like a love sick teenager drawing little hearts all over a folder, we have to bestow a title to know where we are. Give a relationship a name, rank and serial number, and suddenly the water is rising and the boat has a leak.

Take Fay Wray and King Kong. Besides the obvious size issue, they didn’t stand a chance. No one let them decide how to define their relationship themselves. Just gave it a name, enough rope, and watched it hang itself on top of the Empire State Building.

And, close on the heels of the official naming, come the official words. Why does “I love you” up the anxiety factor, so much so that we may back up when we don’t really want to? Like the ghost of old graffiti showing through fresh new paint, our past pain will be there. It is part of the landscape of our hearts, not the whole country.

Chilled poached chicken breast on a bed of mixed greens, with tarragon champagne vinaigrette. Mmmm! Sounds good and you know exactly what you are getting. It will taste like chicken because it is chicken. Apparently everything tastes like chicken, but hey, what a concept! Since we have the ability to define precisely what a relationship means to each of us, there is no need to accept shrimp on a stick when anticipating chicken. Enjoy your chicken, finger licking good, smile and feel the joy of a new love with a healthy side of optimism.

Have a naughty day!

Does Trust Send Lust to the Dust?

In the beginning, a woman, a very wise woman, slept in a chair and in her hands were a pair of perfectly matched steel balls. Whenever she drifted off into the land of dreams, a clank from the now would wake her and she would remember the wisdom she had found. One day she realized that the wisdom didn’t work because no one else had steel balls to wake them up! What does it really take to learn from our mistakes? Is the top-of-the-line truth meter, our intuition, working overtime? Our gut worn out from over use and no longer a competent operating system? If so, what do we have left to work with? What can tell us truth from fiction?

There are times when our reality is a dream and yet we are surprised when there is an ending that even ice cream can’t help. Who doesn’t want a lover with integrity? Like so many things that we can’t actually see, trust, or rather the lack of it, is felt in the pit of the stomach. Bring on all the high fat dairy products. When the trust meter has been fed so much BS, real and imagined, for a lifetime, it tends to malfunction. What if every possible concern was one of those little red balls that fisherman use to let them know something is up. We could watch the red balls and know exactly what was going on. Up is a good thing - take balloons, the stock market and chocolate soufflés.

When flirting with a new relationship we pretend we bring a clean slate and no judgment. Under our fancy feathers, worn to impress is the precious truth detector. Should we give each new person in our life a clean slate? Wake up and smell the rum raisin!

Hopefully experience leaves us not jaded, but wiser. Mr. Miyagi, Karate Kid wise. Hopefully savvy, with a bit more in the perception department to help us in the land of half truths and disclosures on a need-to-know basis. Lies are like the colors of martial arts belts. Do you go up the color ladder as your lying improves? No! Different colors for different infractions. Unless of course it comes down to black or white. Desperate for clarity, you might find a little grey in the mist around your Ouija Board as a last resort.

We could spend time watching the little red balls dancing on the surface. No more wondering, just watching for answers. What a waste of life! If you spend enough time, you might hook something big. It could bite you. Once bitten, twice shy. Of course, you might reel in a mermaid and mermaids never lie.

Have a naughty day!

Tour of Duty or Call of Booty?

We tell ourselves it is a right. For women to have sex like a man and for men to have sex, well, like a man. So is a booty call really just a call of duty to what is hip, cool and apparently a sexual birthright? Hmmmmm, call of duty or booty? “Booty call” came into the popular vernacular c. 1990 and means an on-call sexual relationship, not necessarily between partners who have read the description for said booty call. In other words, an excuse for making like, not love. To dilute something as amazing as a physical connection with another person into the realms of fast food is like going to Italy, and the highlight of your trip is the Pope soap-on-a-rope you bought at the Vatican. You are in the Army boys and girls, if you subscribe to this being anything more than what it is; synthetic vs. silk, canned vs. fresh squeezed. And, speaking of squeezed, if your true feelings slip out at a more than appropriate moment in a real relationship, the potential for wonderful is there. In the BCR (Booty Call Relationship) world, you are more likely to hear the sound of the first nails going into the coffin. Not a bad thing really, since the shelf life of a BCR usually runs 6 weeks to 6 months. Anything else and you should be billing!

It seems that we crave the real deal, but when it comes to companionship we will settle for second, third and fiftieth best. Sandcastles on the beach are a pleasure for the moment. Prime real estate in the imagination, but with the first beckoning of the sea, la la land goes back to the primal building material it really is. If you are not able to see a BCR for what it is, (and I truly wonder if anyone can), maybe it is time to get off the beach.

Because a past BCR can show on the weather front, just about anywhere, and at any time, make sure it is over before you are in the sweaty bliss of a new and exciting relationship (hopefully a real one). Without due and proper warning, you may find yourself without time to batten down the hatches and you won’t be able to ask the weather person for a minute by minute update on Hurricane Patty. If you are going to indulge, for goddess sake set up some rules up for yourself. In fact, read the Monopoly ones! You have to go around the whole thing once before you get anything, free parking will let you down, and you will always land on Park Place when you are broke. Does anyone ever actually finish Monopoly? Nope, we just get bored and move on to the next game.

Have a naughty day!

Hunting: It's Just a Natural Instinct

If you had a bulldog with a black leather collar and lots of spikes, carefully guarding your weary and recently stepped on heart, would the sneaky little invaders of spite still escape? Whether that heart was pinned down by 5 inch shiny black stilettos or construction boots, why is it when it is over there is so much overkill? Couldn’t we just shake hands and wish each other well, instead of trying to drown each other in one? I think it comes down, as does most of modern life, to packaging. Everyone looks better rolled in chocolate and covered with slivered almonds, but eventually that candy coating is going to have to come off and hopefully you are left with something of substance in the middle of all that come-hither, yummy stuff.

If expectations are premeditated resentments, aren’t we just setting ourselves up from the beginning? It has been said that the very things that draw you to someone are the things that bring you down. And speaking of bringing down, Miss Kitty, in her Prada lab coat, has discovered our brains are wired to hunt, like it or not. We pretend, as we put heavily cellophane wrapped meat in our shopping baskets, that our spear wielding days are far behind us. Well, pull my hair and knock me down with a club, it’s hard wired right next to the lizard bit that tells us who is safe and who is not. Of course that bit no longer serves us well and it isn’t surprising. How smart can lizards really be if they end up as bags and shoes?

So, darling pre-programmed boys and girls, no apologies are necessary here and it isn’t really dangerous anyway. Ladies, you aren’t going to be dried and hung, like beef jerky next to the cases of beer for football season, well, not unless it is a slow season. The interesting part comes when the party is over, be it 4 months or 4 years. That is when the hunter regrets the chase and just might bite. When the investment no longer pays off in high yielding gains and the prey escapes the carefully constructed web of constraints, all that is left is a tepid pool of old almonds and rancid chocolate.

Wash off the sticky remnants of resentment and enjoy the way the rough nuts polish away the last roll of the blame game. Then get over it! To seek fulfillment of ourselves through the possession of other people will always end in an empty shopping cart. To find fulfillment that is as good inside as it is outside, means covering yourself in chocolate and slivered almonds and feeling really good under all that candy.

Have a naughty day!

Everlasting Love - Does it Really Exist?

Its rose tinted glow is everywhere. The haunting and elusive idea of a love that lasts forever. Why are we willing to give so much to find something that may or may not be real? We say “I do” so easily. I do what exactly? Would someone please clarify just what I am getting into here? May I see the whole list, including what was erased? While you are at it, I also need 3 years’ tax returns and a psychiatric evaluation, since your friends aren’t talking. What if we agree that there are no guarantees and only promise what we really can? Otherwise isn’t it a bit like shopping in a store without price tags? Like making a bed with 50 thread count sheets and expecting to be comfortable?

Let’s start out at the top of the spiral staircase of good intentions. You try on various accessories from the fabulous “L” collection - like, lust, and love. You get beyond the “sign” phase. You know, when EVERYTHING appears to be a message from the Hallmark Gods that you should be together. The fact that you both really like chocolate milk at 2 a.m. is cute, but it isn’t a sign that you should sell your furniture. Besides, in a few years when one or both of you is lactose intolerant, the party is going to be over. Chocolate milk amour aside, you took a right turn after meeting “the family” and arrived at the altar of “Oh my God, what have I done!” The next thing you know, you’re sleeping with a business partner. Instead of après sex pillow talk it’s hashing over the utility bills and who leaves the lights on. Personally, I have never found the sound of an Edison envelope being torn open all that sexy.

No one is born knowing how to cook or be in a relationship. To be a good cook, you are either lucky enough to learn from a master at a young age or you study, take classes and experiment. Want a great relationship that lasts? Study, take classes and experiment! If you believe in true love that lasts a lifetime, you are going to have to commit to some serious fun.

Endless hours and hard work are the norm to be successful in the grown up pay-and-play world. What if we took the time it takes to order a chai latte soy no whip low fat drink and said or did something as sweet and creamy to our beloved in the early morning light? Maybe the day would actually start out hot and steamy, maybe it would even stay that way long after the fancy drink was gone.

Science can’t guarantee that there will be a tomorrow, but we have faith that it will come. Everlasting love is punching the same ticket and it’s a beautiful ride. No baggage allowed, a passport to anywhere and common sense to get you home alone, just in case.

Have a naughty day!

Tricky Sticky Treats on and off the Record

At least one night a year, many of us scorn our sensible shoes, drag out the Wicked Wanda wig, and trowel on enough make up to force Pamela Anderson to cringe. It isn’t so much “To be or not to be”, but what to be? Leaving Shakespeare in the verbose dust bowl, Las Vegas may have hit upon the saying of a century, “What happens here stays here". Oh baby, and how “Scary Movie” is that! So boys and girls, what exactly does your “off the record” night reveal about you? And I mean all of us, since costumes nicely saunter right across the gender playing field. I know how risqué you gents get behind your “Jason” masks and diva tiaras! Not to mention the ease of asking Lois Lane to dance if you are wearing red tights for the night. If you don’t play dress up, believe me, there are plenty of other “Don’t ask don’t tell” plans available from www.noaccountabiitylovelife.com.

How dare you, I hear you say. Well cupcake, how about that 2 week stint in Costa Rica? Are you blushing? Thought so. That naughty moment or two at your best friend's wedding with the best man? One too many “Lemon Drops” on the 3rd Friday during a new moon? It seems there is someone inside us, begging to be let out a bit more often. Right now we are pulling double duty as both the Witch and Rapunzel. And the stone tower has become travel size for our inconvenience.

If the memories we make, a heightened sense of living life, and fulfillment is there, then why is it that we ration our play dates? Are serious dates so much better? Is the real you the gold lamé draped harem girl or the one who goes to work in a Chenille sweater and below the knee skirt? I am not suggesting that gold lamé is a good career move at the copier come Monday morning, but couldn’t we assimilate a bit more of our secret self into the grown up we need to be? Why does adventure have to live at the back of the garage with the Holiday ornaments? Maybe it would take away some of the magic if we had lights up all year long, but couldn’t we do it a bit more often without justification?

The real lure of naughtiness is that it is a needed ritual. It allows the part of us that is not quite sure what’s safe and what’s not a place to grow. I am taking an extended leave of absence from my tower, so, boys and girls, grab your empty trick or treat bags and let’s fill them up. Let’s see just how much you really want, what you’ll do to get it, and what it takes to make you smile without any guilt or souvenirs from the regret boutique. And save a fun size Snickers for me. Nope, make that a big one.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty

Warp Speed, Not Warped Relationship

We fly so fast we forget to breathe.  Maybe there isn’t quality air to take in when you are so high above the clouds of reality.  Yes, that could be it; lack of oxygen makes our heads just a bit too woozy to really decide when the next step is, or should there even be a next step.  These days it’s an express elevator.  Floor 27 please, instant intimacy. The fingers can swoop so easily on a keyboard and they think faster than our soul does.  The soul likes to sit with tea, and if not sympathy, a splash of wisdom now and then.  Oh, those clever fingers, they can type out a semi-sweet and tawdry message in a matter of seconds and whoosh, the missive has gone forth in less time than it even takes to say, “I am interested…” Dangerous times when the psyche can’t begin to keep pace with the pinball wizard of the cyber dating world.  True intimacy (not the kind in a box at Smart and Final) is a lesson in patience and truth seeking self awareness.  How can we put in the emotional sweat equity when such a cornucopia of possibilities is only twelve inches away from your vision? 


Love can be deaf, dumb and blind. Does internet dating mean that we need to add even more handicaps?   Or is it a leg up on the ancient, tried and not so true system of, “Hey, baby, can I buy you a drink”?  Yes, it is nice to know the basics right out in front. He’s a Catholic vegetarian who smokes, with three kids who live at home sometimes. She 5’6”, married four times and has enough baggage to sink the Titanic, when the only ice around is the clinking little bergs in a cocktail glass. We can read between the lines and know the vital stats right out of the gate, but doesn’t that make us microwave popcorn?  Ready to eat in under 2 minutes?  Maybe it is better to slow dance, alone in a crock pot until you are really ready, instead of trying to BBQ peas.

The only net you may be using when dating is thigh-high fishnets.  Other than that you are high up, all alone and able to fall.  Your trapeze is your style, your choices, your inherent sense of who you are and what you need the rules to be. With the ink of experience, tattoo your personal ten best relationship secrets right there on your heart, where your psyche can read them at all times.  Remember, your fingers can type, but they can’t read.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty

Welcome to Kitty in the City!

Love, Like Life, is Full of Choices

Welcome to ”Kitty in the City”, your local insight into the big wide world of intimacy and romance in the Big Avocado. We will explore everything that seems to be on the minds of the single, married, married and could be single, single and thinking about married, married since 1492, etc.  Are you getting the picture?   It would be nice to think we are more than trained seals that swim around and around in crystal blue pools of DNA when our bodies have decided what to do with us.  Do we have more true choices standing in line at a deli ordering a sandwich?  Or perhaps the menu has gotten out of control, and since when do we make smart choices for ourselves when out to eat?  It is usual to be seduced by what sounds good over what is good for you.  Tiramisu isn’t exactly the stuff of life, but it is tall, dark and handsome. 

Look how many places in our life we let others do the choosing for us.  We take tests that other people have created to find out the best possible career for us.  Of course the beach isn’t really a career and a little guidance is a good thing.  Other people (not counting your 10 year old daughter or Jessica Simpson) can usually dress you better than you can.  Maybe other people could order up a dish that would sustain you for an excellent duration of romantic contentment.  “He is smart, handsome and savvy.  Well read and easy to read.  Truthful and mindful. Humor goes a long way, as long as he has progressed beyond Chevy Chase.  He is comfortable being gazed upon with the sparkling eyes of lust, love or the classic combination plate of both.  Looks good in a towel”.   Alright, I added the last part. Not the peanut gallery who I have voted to do a better job, because they know that even though I don’t like yellow, wear it well. People, the TOWEL part counts!  Like extra sour cream with your enchilada. I need it.

When hunting the pure joy of lasting love it seems the very chase cancels out what is rational, written with a Sharpie in fact, so it won’t be denied on the must do list of life.  Is it such pure and decadent luxury to revel in the possibilities?  Is it an insane hunger, the need itself that is the hunt?   We try to make peace with the wait, of now, of every moment, and for a short duration we can convince ourselves that it is part of what we seek.  Forget it baby, the persistent call of desire quenches the small and pathetic smoldering fire of carefully orchestrated calm.  It is DNA soup and therefore we all get to stand in line and order and reorder until we get it right. I plan to be up all night now, so I’ll have the Tiramisu and a double espresso please. And bring it in a towel.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty