GIGI GOES GAGA

DATING 101

I have a friend who's now completely lost in the dating world, as in hopelessly confused and clueless. He pretty much married his first love, they had three children, and then she left him for another man (of course, this is oversimplifying a bit -- no one can possibly summarize an entire relationship in a terse sentence with two commas). So now he's approaching his mid-40s and merely the thought of asking a woman out scares him shitless.

I've never asked a guy out; back in my day (geez, I feel absolutely Victorian here now) girls just didn't do that unless they were desperate. Sure, we sat by the phone and waited and pined away -- but we didn't take charge and make the first move -- ever. I suppose if I found myself today wondering if I should call a man and ask him out to dinner I'd be petrified and possibly even make a fool of myself. Me, who's been on enough dates to last a couple of lifetimes.

Truth is I've been on my share of bad dates. That tends to happen when you've been on so many. The good thing about this is I can now look back and laugh, even if none of them seemed remotely funny then. The only thing I've never done is get drunk, and I have my bestfriend to thank for that.

On one of her earliest dates, back when we were in high school, this boy took her out for a fancy dinner. Now I can't remember how he ended up with a bottle of (cheap) wine but she drank a glass or two and halfway through the evening, she asked him to take her back to my place so her parents wouldn't see her so sloshed. I'm convinced he wanted to loosen her up and free her inhibitions so he could have his way with her a bit, but Rosanna was too much of a good girl. When she'd drink, she'd belt out show tunes and make googly eyes a lot. She's still the same way now.

But I wasn't as good -- and I knew it. So I've never been chemically altered on a date, unless you count antihistamines or the Pill. This doesn't mean that I didn't act like I was crazy -- heck, I can still kick myself for saying or doing certain things when I clearly knew better. See, when I'm bored or sleepy anything can happen. And usually does.

I've never kissed on a first date and at times I've actually extended my hand out to shake the dude's hand as he leaned in for a quick smooch. See, I love first kisses -- I remember them all -- and so it's important to me that when they happen, they actually mean something. But I've also achieved REM state while making out; unfortunately I was a working college student with an active extracurricular schedule so I'd fall asleep at all the inopportune times. Still, I give myself credit for simply letting the guys think that their kisses and embraces sent me straight to Dreamland -- though not literally, which was really the case.

The only time a cop ever knocked on the car window while I was inside with a guy, we were just talking. Really. The fact that we were parked at a notorious makeout spot on campus should have told me that the boy had intentions that evening -- but thankfully all of them flew out the window as soon as campus police waved that flashlight in front of his eyeballs. The next time I saw that light was a few years later, when my date had too much to drink and we had to make an unexpected stop inside a peaceful, well-manicured neighborhood so he could throw up. Needless to say, we frightened the nice folks and I had my first taste of what it's probably like to be on a Cops episode.

On one of the worst dates I was on (and this is saying quite a lot), I actually ended up with a different guy by the end of the evening. My friends had set me up with someone I'd see at parties but had never gotten past hello with; they said he thought I was cute but was too shy to actually talk to me. He was a talented, accomplished musician with amazing, languid hazel eyes. Little did I know that the reason his peepers always looked so relaxed, even flirty, was because he was perpetually stoned; I simply thought he was the cool, quiet, laidback type. Our group ended up at a hip LA club after dinner -- where we were joined by one of his new-in-town friends who simply decided he wanted to stay by my side for the rest of the night. By the time my date was flying on whatever he'd brought with him, I was in a corner getting to know this other guy a little bit better. But that's a different story, for another day.

My point is no matter how bad it gets, it also gets better. Trust me on this: get out there, don't expect too much, but pay attention so if the date's a disaster you have a good story for the next time you're out with friends. Or in my case, when you need something to write about. And you can be sure I have lots.

HIDDEN CAMERAS

OK, I'm going there. I can't resist, see. Here's all I have to say about the topic du jour in the Philippines -- those sex videos, of which I've seen a few. I don't plan on seeing the rest of them, should they become available. (There are about 40 out there, alleges a senator who now postures himself as the defender of Filipino women and womanhood. Has anybody suggested to him, by the way, that cheating on one's wife repeatedly is not exactly a sign of respect towards women? Just wondering.) I've seen lots of porn in my lifetime, and they always involved at least a moderate amount of physical exertion. I think someone forgot to yell "Action!" in these videos, but I suppose when one of the stars isn't aware she's being filmed then the filmmaker has got to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. Which he was, really.

1. Be very careful about sleeping with a man, especially one known for his many sexual encounters and affairs, who doesn't wear a condom. (I didn't see him put one on -- did any of you?)
2. If you plan on videotaping your - uh -- private and intimate affairs, be sure to get your partner's permission. Even those "hidden camera" television comedy shows need their "victims" to sign a release form to get the footage on air or else risk getting sued. In other words, they need to give their expressed permission to get humiliated in public, on air. Same thing here, yes?
3. The guy planned on being filmed for posterity. You would think the least he would do -- since he's obviously a narcissistic jerk -- is try to look as impressive as possible. Puzzled why he didn't do just that, I mentioned this to a friend of mine, who suggested that perhaps he thought he had. Oh.
4. Just my opinion here. Unless you think being immortalized in a sex video can catapult your acting career or celebrity level by quite a few notches, don't agree to do it even if your partner begs. In this internet age, it's simply too risky. If you've ever seen that Friends episode where Ross and Rachel film themselves having sex -- and then watch it later in agony -- you would know why it might not be such a good idea, as tempting as it sounds at the moment. Anyway, my friend and her husband have a few of their own private sex tapes stored securely, but can't remember where they are now. They're dreading the chance that their sons, now teenagers, find them before they do. Yuck.

       

REDESIGNING, SIMPLIFYING

I confess I haven't been posting as much as I used to (although some of you have probably noticed). There's still so much to say, to show, to share -- but I've simply been stuck in the mud for way too long now.

So I've changed the look of this page. I wanted something clean and spare in the meantime until I can figure out how I'd like this to evolve. My friend Cathy suggested I check out Tumblr and I'm playing with the site until I decide whether to switch over or stay and keep that as a companion mini-blog of sorts. All I know is I'm itching for a change, something that will rev up this sputtering engine of mine.

Any suggestions? Knoizki, are you out there?