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One of the various perks of MMA training is that when you fall in lust with a fellow fighter and they happen to aggravate you, you can actually beat the living daylights out of them. You can channel said anger into a right cross that happens to end up in a fist-meet-face scenario. This type of very physical therapy is probably my favorite. Not only does it serve you in the future by making you even hotter than ever – it’s as if your motivation is right in front of your face! Could the urge to workout be any more convenient? I doubt it. In Los Scandalous, a land of too many size twos, where eating is a less-than- fabulous faux pas, a girl can use all the motivation to lose the lbs. that she can get. So even though he may have kicked you where it hurts (your heart), you can seek superficial vengeance when you accidentally feng shui his face. Welcome to the new form of psychiatric help. The less expensive one-on-one therapy that happens to keep you sane. So when your current crush turned crash wants more, show him what he’s in for. You can’t keep a good girl down, for too long…

Dear Diary,

Going on day thirty-something of current crush and my prey seems to be moving with the speed of a Special Olympics hurdler. You’d think the slow pace would make it easier to pin my target, but no, instead it only serves as a form of torture that I thought they ruled as inhumane back in the Middle Ages. So in a land where I needed an actual translation for “taking things slow,” I found myself in a foreign territory where no amount of transliteration could explain the phrase. You may be thinking, ‘perhaps he’s just not that into you?’ I thought the same until evidence to the contrary had me enrolling in dating 101 faster than the new McLaren goes from 0-60. I feel like a rogue pinball bumping into obstacle after obstacle just trying not to lose. I’m holding steady (as she goes), tiptoeing around the flirtatious comments and wishful sexting, using all the strategy and concentration required for a drunken game of Jenga. The thrill of the chase is exciting, but the actual ability to entangle your prey in a web of ‘happily ever after’ is even more alluring. I guess the ‘happily ever after’ only works if the ‘once upon a time’ has an actual story to go with it though. Snow White bit the apple, and the bite was worth the price, so here’s to wishing, waiting, and hoping that the poison is worth it…

Always,

SweetLo

Sometimes you think you’re over someone.  You take comfort in your current crush and roll with the punches.  Then, you see pictures of your former fling formidably happy with someone else, and, suddenly, sipping endless amounts of Vicodin seems the best way to distract yourself from any other drug of choice.  The question is, why are they happy when you’re ready to slit your wrists?  And even the thought of stitching yourself up isn’t enough to hold you together when, clearly, you could have made him happier.  So, if the only obstacle was a geographic formality, is there still hope?  Is the one thing missing that grand (albeit expensive) aerial gesture?  No, the fact of the matter is, if he wasn’t willing to fight for you – why fight for him?  Instead, roll with the punches and submit whoever can’t keep up for three rounds.  More than likely, they wanted to give in for a reason.  Attribute that to your chick charm – or ability to intimidate.  Either way, you won the match….

Hollyweird really knows how to breathe new life into the night of the living dead.  With girls traipsing around in next to nothing and dudes pretending to be someone they aren’t, the night was everything you could hope for in a masquerade.  That being said, my date with Rob Zombie was a hectic and hazy experience – but well worth the chaos.  Aside from the pretty little things that peppered the Palladium, the mosh pit was a mangled mess of a situation (much like my love life) and those brave enough to participate enrolled themselves in a drunken dance of punching and pushing that looked more or less like a ballistic ballet gone awry.  It’s nice to pretend to be someone else for a whole twenty-four though, what’s life without a little role-play?  So when you get bored with your current crush sitch, just don a disguise and go out looking for new guys.  It’s nice to get a little devilish in the City of Angels, and even better when all hell breaks loose.

So 56 or so minutes into one of several conversations with current crush the whole “when was your last relationship” topic was brought up. Not a typical aphrodisiac inducing conversation, but neither one of us was ready to back down. So this man of few words said all the right ones without hesitation – either serious relationships, or nothing at all, there is no in between. Now, as a girl who’s entire life consists of only in-betweens, the writer with an ever ready array of witty rapport was left without words. Suddenly, I was face to face with the fact that in-betweens are often unfulfilling and a mere waste of the space continuum, rather than a way to bide time until the next in-between can become the last. I had not been forewarned that the foreplay was about to take a serious turn for the better, but I went with it. After all, in a world with endless options, sometimes you just want “The one.”

In an effort to ditch the guys I know I shouldn’t want, but tend to get anyways, I started looking for potential dates in places other than the usual Hollyweird hotspots. What I failed to notice, since apparently it’s been five years since I’ve had a crush and not a crash, was that most of the great guys are always right in front of you. Now, I’m totally against the available “meat” (& greet) market available at the gym. I’m more of a get in, get out, go home kind of girl (insert obvious that’s what he said joke), so I failed to notice that the cardio wasn’t the only thing making my heart race. Instead of the obvious five second once-over that you get along with any cocktail and club cover, the flirty faux friendships formed at any fitness joint are cause for something that has an expiration date beyond that of a one night fling thing. So, take the cardio from the elliptical to a post-work-out wind-down that serves as motivation to stay in sleek shape.

My favorite holiday is right around the corner, the one where you get to dress up and masquerade around Hollyweird dressed as a completely different person. A free pass given to every girl dressed with skirts so short there’s no point to wearing them at all, and guys can gawk without being even remotely discreet about it. But aside from all the carnal couture and faux freaks that scatter throughout the city, the holiday entitles you to be whoever you want for one night of debauchery in lieu of another night of the normalcy we all know and abhor. So don your most shocking American Apparel and stalk the streets in something sinfully sweet, because the expiration date on this fantastic free-for-all ends promptly twenty-four hours after the start of All Hallow’s Eve. So find a trick, or a treat, or if you’re lucky – you’ll get to enjoy both.

Watching a friend go through a bad break up is like a train wreck – it’s terrible but you can’t seem to look away. So what do you do when your crush turns into a crash? Good question. The simple solution is to pimp the victim out in the hopes that a distraction will help them move on quickly from the scene of the accident. Of course, residual effects will inevitably surface and suddenly they are screaming in pain from a delayed reaction to the pain of the accident. So perhaps the hit-it-and-quit-it method is not the best way to go. There’s of course the eat-yourself-to-sanity method, but given the uncertainty of the timeline you may jeopardize your chances of any future flame by packing on the pounds. My favorite method is the “work furiously at the gym” scenario; however the elliptical can have you feeling like a hamster on a wheel in no time. So have a drink and dive right back into the deep end, there’s no time like the present. Most importantly, breathe and be there for your friends and help them through the post-traumatic-stress ordeal. You could be the next one to crash and burn.

Last night on Californication, the main guy Hank Moody, launched like a bat out of hell into this tirade about how dating is merely a means to an end. Granted the not-entirely-reformed rake was at one point willing to sacrifice his many women for a life with just one, but after getting shot down by the realistic (and oh so depressing) notion that the union would be more like solitary confinement rather than a blissful state of mind, he bought a one-way ticket right back to his old ways. Old habits do indeed die hard, and his eagerness to sample every one of the thirty one flavors of women was really quite astounding – purely from a stamina point of view. So while Moody is multitasking women like it’s going out of style, it wasn’t exactly because he found joy from any of the several girls by his side. It was simply because what’s a better way to heal old wounds than by a distraction, or two, or thirty one? So while we girls remind ourselves not to hate the player, but hate the game – remember that just because we’ve been wounded doesn’t mean the man of the moment hasn’t as well. Patience is a virtue, and while time is absolutely of the essence, it’s not a make it or break it type of scenario. So while you’re at home crying over enduring another insufferable Lifetime movie moment, remember that the happily ever after is still out there – you may just have to get up and change the channel yourself.

Dating in L.A., more often than not, is not entirely unlike surviving the 405. It basically makes you want to just drive right off the road rather than actually driving to where you want to go. But you still try and merge into whatever lane looks like it’ll have you at the desired destination fastest. Problem is, when you finally successfully set yourself up in said lane, it comes to a complete standstill and you’re left to try and merge into another. So you turn up your radio or talk on your cell to block out the outside drama. But that distraction only serves to introduce you to the next near-death experience, which is pretty much what happens when you listen to several different friends’ dating advice. Someone tells you to play hard to get, another tells you to tease, and before you know it you’re left with whiplash from all the emotional extremes. Too bad a chiropractor can’t tweak you back as easily from this as after a five car pileup. Then, just as you’re sure the only thing left to do is turn off the engine and leave your car stranded in the middle of this ferocious freeway altogether, you see a really cute guy in the car next to you. So you speed up, slow down, try and find the right pace, and it begins again. Or at least it keeps you going until the next time you want to crash and burn.