Going on hiatus

I'm sure you've noticed that recent updates to this site have been few and far-between. I know that's the first nail in a blog's coffin; and I don't want those readers who have been so supportive over the past few months to become disappointed when they see that there's no new content, and then eventually stop visiting altogether.

In truth, I've made a commitment to myself to pursue creative writing—something which has always interested me. I have enormous respect for someone who follows her passion to write. Recently, I've been inspired to follow my own. Doing so as a beginner, though, means immersing yourself in a new but exciting world: reading, studying, interacting with other writers and discovering one's own creative process. I understand it's in there, somewhere, inside each of us.

As I learn this new craft, and dedicate as much time as I can to what is—for me—a completely different way of writing, it's entirely possible that I can find a balance between it and the sort of thing I've written on this site. If I do, I'll look forward to resuming this blog as soon as I can. For now, though, I need to focus my attention on what I'm trying to learn. I understand myself well enough to realize that.

I can't tell you how much I've appreciated your support and encouragement. And I can state with certainty that if not for this site, and those I've met through it, I wouldn't be trying my hand at fiction.

Anyone who wants to drop me a line is welcome to do so, and can contact me by clicking here.

I hope to see you again soon. Who knows? If not here, then maybe, some day, in a bookstore near you.

All the best,

H.

"Ten guys women should run from"

I don't normally post merely to link to another site; but I enjoyed Pam Houston's article Ten guys women should run from so much that I had to share it.

Now, I know that stereotypes only become stereotypes because there's some degree of truth in them. As tempting as it might be, though, please don't assume that all men fit in one of these categories. ; )

Men who are afraid of looking ridiculous often act ridiculous

Just before Valentine’s Day, I was browsing the merchandise at a local Victoria’s Secret.

The young salesperson came up behind me. “Shopping for a gift?”

I turned and gave her my best ‘you must be joking’ smile. But no, she was serious, and patiently waited for an answer to her question.

I’m one of the few men I know who enjoy shopping. And when buying lingerie, what’s not to like? As one of the only men in the store, I had fun with it. If a woman next to me held up an item I liked, I’d say “That’s great! Do they have it in a small?” I’d ask whether or not a particular type of construction would be comfortable. They, in turn, would ask my opinion: “What do you think? Too frilly? The black one or the red?”

Alas, not all men share my enthusiasm. I saw a young couple come in, the girl browsing the styles and the sale bins, with her boyfriend several steps behind.

Sorry, but—what the hell? You’d think he could develop a little interest in what’s going on. After all, she’s as much shopping for his benefit as her own. But no, he kept his hands in his pockets and shuffled along behind her, rarely looking up from the floor.

And God forbid she should ask him to hold her purse while she tried something on. I’m not sure when men decided that holding a purse would cause someone to assume he’s gay. Come to think of it, I can’t remember ever having seen a gay man with a purse.

By the way, I told the young salesperson that yes, I was obviously shopping for a gift. I’m clearly far too masculine to prance around in women’s lingerie.

Even with my girlfriend’s purse slung over my shoulder.

Happy Valentine's Day

I love Valentine's Day.

In fact, I'll go so far to say that it's my favorite holiday (incidentally: do you celebrate Valentine's Day in Australia?). Just because it's over-commercialized—and yes, a little cliché—doesn't mean we can't be reminded to stop and smell the roses. So to speak.

I happen to believe that everyone deserves a little romance. And not to sound harsh, but not being in a relationship isn't an excuse for not finding it. In fact, a relationship isn't at all necessary to live a romantic life. But living a romantic life will certainly enhance a relationship.

I'm not talking about flowers and candy. I'm not even talking about love notes, though there's certainly nothing wrong with them. No, I'm referring to something much simpler. Something to get your heart beating a little faster, to lift you out of the ordinary, to give you something to look forward to.

Sometimes we need to create our own romance; no matter how small or innocent. Wherever we can find it. And occasionally, the more unexpected the place the better.

A couple of years ago, my mother was undergoing some serious and regular hospital treatment. I don't have to tell you how depressing a hospital can be; in my experience, it's one of the few places that can bring out both the best and the worst in a person.

I routinely accompanied my mom when she went to the hospital, and when possible, stayed with her through her treatment. One day, I left her for a few minutes to fill her prescription at the pharmacy down the hall. The pharmacist, who happened to be a young, attractive woman, looked like she hadn't smiled in weeks. Considering the things she saw every day, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

I'll spare you the details (and no, I didn't injure her with an errant rubber band), but we flirted a bit in the few minutes we talked. Was it an appropriate time or place? Of course not. Did it lift our moods, and remind us that—even if only for a moment—life goes on?

Absolutely.

Warning shot

Yesterday, Booyah left a very kind comment on my recent post titled Smile, please, in which she hinted at the results of her experiment. If you haven't already, I encourage you to read the story by clicking here. Fair warning: put aside your beverage until you're finished reading.

Because I enjoyed it so much—and to show that men are every bit as susceptible to the random embarrassing incident as women—I told her I'd post a similar story of my own.

First, a little background:

I had braces until about a year ago. For the last few months of the treatment, I had to wear rubber bands to correct my bite. I hated them; anyone who's had to wear them will know exactly what I'm talking about. The rubber bands are very small, perhaps a quarter-inch in diameter, very tight and very strong.

The bands hook on brackets attached to the upper and lower teeth, and create tension that, over time, will help align one's bite. They're only effective if worn around the clock and changed frequently, only being removed to eat or brush.

Now, on to the story...

The day the rubber bands were prescribed, I stopped at a Starbucks near my orthodontist's office, as had become my habit. I walked up to the counter and placed my order with the attractive young barista at the register.

"Trrbll gnnnaah wmmmm, plezzh." What the—? As I heard it, I couldn't even understand what I'd just said.

"Excuse me?" she replied. She really was cute.

I had to think fast. What's the problem? The damn rubber bands have wired my jaw shut, and made it difficult to speak. So what are you going to do? Force yourself. Enunciate.

"Triple grande wh—" Ping! Without warning, one of the bands shot out of my mouth and over her right shoulder. She barely had time to flinch.

My eyes flew open and I clapped my hand over my mouth to prevent another misfire. We stood there for what seemed like minutes, facing each other, in a sort of silent standoff.

Sometimes fate really does sneak up and kick you in the nuggets. With the special brand of desperation reserved for the truly screwed, I removed my hand from my mouth and forced a smile.

"Give me your number or the next one won't miss."

To this day, I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it's filed away in a dark corner of my memory with all the other little tidbits best forgotten. All I know is that I left without a number.

Or, come to think of it, my coffee.

Ink and sexiness

I don't know about you, but I think that a tattoo can be unbelievably sexy.

Note that I italicized the word 'can.' If I don't find a woman attractive, discovering that she has a tattoo won't suddenly change how I see her.

Her choice of design has a lot to do with it. Frankly, I might think twice about approaching a woman if she has If You Can Read This, You're Too Damn Close tattooed on her forehead. But finding out that a woman to whom I'm attracted has a very personal, very beautiful design in an intimate place drives me crazy.

I've actually thought about why I find them attractive. Here's what I've decided: more than the ink itself, and regardless how you personally feel about tattoos, I believe it takes boldness to customize one's body. That boldness—that lack of timidity—has a lot to do with someone's attractiveness.

What do you think? Do you have, or have you ever wanted, a tattoo? If you have one, does it make you feel sexy? Or do you consider a tattoo a deal-breaker when meeting someone new? Personally—and I suspect this is true of many people—I consider it as only one part of the person it adorns. And it can be a pretty revealing part, at that.

If you're a woman considering a tattoo, here's the best advice I can give you: when deciding on a location, make sure it's somewhere you'd like to be kissed.

Smile, please

I'd originally thought of titling this post The secret to attracting men. It might've been, as the secret is included in the following paragraphs, but I wanted to give you an idea of just how simple a concept it is.

Those of you who have followed this blog over the last month know that, when it comes to attractiveness, I routinely beat the twin drums of confidence and passion. Last night, I had a lively discussion with a woman whose opinion I respect a great deal; and I came away even more certain that it’s true.

I studied fashion design in college before switching my major to art history. As a design student, I had opportunities to help produce fashion shows when professional designers showed to the local market.

See the picture on the left? This message was posted backstage at a fashion show as a reminder to the models! Believe it or not, signs like this are posted at nearly every professional fashion show.

The simple truth is that those of us who act confident are assumed to be confident. And from time to time, everyone needs to be reminded—even fashion models. People we meet react almost immediately; since they perceive us as outgoing, confident people, that’s how they treat us. And this positive reaction, in turn, feeds our confidence.

Try it. Smile. Act confident. Next time you run to the store, wear your sexiest underwear under your favorite jeans. Give yourself permission to have a little attitude. And why shouldn’t you?

Next time you pass an attractive man on the street, make eye contact with him and smile. That's it. I guarantee that two things will happen:

• You’ll make his day
• He will remember you

Oh, and by the way:

• He just might start a conversation

Obviously, I can’t promise that anything will come out of this single encounter; but I can promise that nothing at all will happen if one of you doesn’t create an opportunity.

Trust me, this works. I see women I find attractive every day. Under the right circumstances, the slightest bit of encouragement is all I need to make the first move.

Try it once. Let me know what happens. Just remember that with great power comes great responsibility.