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WheatFieldstoWonderland

A Canadian Girl's Tips To Remaining Sane In The Upside Down World Of Hollywood

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Straight Guy Syndrome

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Straight Guy Syndrome
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Straight Guy Syndrome

I bet you didn’t know that there is a syndrome, one that affects only the ‘straight guy.’ Gay men, bisexual men, transgender she-men, all are immune to catching or developing this syndrome.

There are many examples of the ‘Straight Guy Syndrome’ that I will explore to adequately explain to you what I, Janell Martin, perceive as the absolute truth when it comes to men… straight men that is.

What is  the Straight Guy Syndrome?

Well, it’s actually quite layered and not based on one single element. Rather, it is based on a series of observations of male behavior that I  have witnessed and documented over the years. Observations which are the basis for my totally non-scientific and arguably questionable conclusions.

Let’s start with the ‘Straight Guy I’m Hot’ Syndrome…

Women, we tend to notice every flaw. When we look into a mirror, we see our imperfections: our lines, our wrinkles, our age spots, our cellulite, our love handles, etc. We not only see it, but we can also focus on it to the point that it is all we see. When it comes to our ‘female perceived imperfections,’ it can become an obsession that can often lead to unhealthy behaviors. Extreme dieting, plastic surgery, a whole industry has blossomed out of our need to perfect ourselves.

This need for perfection also afflicts gay and bisexual males. My gay male friends and bisexual friends fret and worry about their imperfections as much, if not more, than my female friends. Women and gay men are alike in that we notice and subsequently focus on what we perceive we need to fix about our appearance. It often affects our confidence and self-esteem, worrying about what is not ‘right’ about the way we look.

But, do you know who doesn’t have this worry or obsession?

Yep, the straight guy. When straight guys look into a mirror, what do they see? They see a hot guy, a guy that’s got game. They see male perfection. Even if they are a bit overweight, balding, short, smelly, fart a lot, have extra-large noses, whatever, they just see… HOTNESS! Hotness that no matter what their imperfections are, that we, us girlies, will love them, regardless.

How do I know this, you ask? Years of research, with me being the unlucky recipient of the overly confident hot guy ‘straight guy syndrome.’

Let’s start with my experience with an obese male.

Years ago, my little Honda del Sol was in a fender bender. My friend recommended a ‘reasonably priced’ body shop repairman that she said would give me a good deal. So, I drove my battered car, battered because I accidentally rear-ended someone, down to his broken-down and dilapidated shop.

His personal appearance was, sadly, as dilapidated as his shop. He had greasy hair, dirty nails, and was about 300 pounds overweight. After we negotiated a price, he inquired if I would need a rental car. As I was broke at that time, I told him that I planned to walk everywhere until the car was fixed. He nicely offered to give me a ride back home.

Nicely?!?!

On the ride home—and as his fat rolls were barely able to squeeze in behind the car wheel and seemed to be inching uncomfortably close to me—he started to talk about this woman he had just dumped. He went on to tell me that she was gorgeous, but once they began to take off their clothes to have sex, she had layers upon layers of sagging skin. When he complained about her appearance, she confided in him that she had recently undergone gastric bypass surgery and had dropped 150 pounds.

This obese man, went on to say what a turn off it was, and he told her that she needed to have reconstructive surgery and remove all the excess skin. He was so turned off that he couldn’t sleep with her. He laughed as he said, ‘she left in tears.’

I wanted to pound him in the face.

Seriously, this poor woman likely felt comfortable enough around this guy hoping as an obese man that he would understand her body insecurities and subsequent surgery. He not only lacked empathy for her, but he also didn’t see himself for the FAT FUCK he was.

As he dropped me off, he turned to me, telling me how ‘cute I was’ and wondered if I would like to go out on a date with him. I was shocked!!! Why would this man think that I would ever, I MEAN EVER, want to go out with him? We had nothing in common, did he think he was, ewe, my type?

Well, he thought he had a chance with me because when he looked in the mirror and all this dude saw was a ‘HOT GUY.’

I went home, upset. Upset feeling horrible for this poor woman that I didn’t  even know and upset at myself that a creepy fat dude now knew where I lived. Seriously, if the guy tripped and fell on me, it would be instant death to me. I’d be squashed like a bug. All you’d see would be my little feet and hands sticking out from under his blubber.

This was the first time I realized that the ‘Straight Guy Syndrome’ existed.

Okay, so now we have the Older Dude ‘Straight Guy Syndrome’.

It’s prevalent in Los Angeles to see ‘Way Older Men’ with ‘Way Younger Women.’ It’s so common that I often assume when I spot an older man and much younger woman out together that they are on a date. I don’t think, oh, that’s a father and his daughter, or a grandfather and his grand-daughter. My mind automatically goes to the May-December, or the ‘hey let’s call it what it is’ ‘January-December’ relationship.

News flash older dudes.

While it is rare that these unions are based on love, it does happen. However, I would estimate that ninety-five percent of the younger ‘much younger’ women who are dating you are doing so to obtain status, a lifestyle, or let’s face it, because you are paying their fucking bills. They are your live-in hooker. Face it.

Ugh, my recent older dude ‘straight guy syndrome.’

I have some dear friends, a lovely couple. He’s in his early eighties, and she’s in her mid-nineties. They have an incredible love story and fell in love at a time when dating and marrying a much older divorcee of a woman was not only NOT in fashion, it was frowned upon. Their love is a testament to what a real relationship is and can be.

They have become my LA family. So, when I go out with them and meet their friends, I am my bubbly, comfortable, friendly self. I recently went to a lovely dinner with them at Il Piccolino on Robertson Blvd, and their newly divorced friend, Jerry came as a fourth.

Jerry had built a career as a high-profile attorney. He was handsome, for his age, interesting and athletic. I enjoyed the evening and our group conversation. As we went to leave, my friend asked if it would be okay if Jerry gave me a ride home as he lived in my direction.

Honestly, I didn’t feel comfortable going with this new acquaintance. Still, knowing it would be less burdensome for my friends, I agreed to it.

As Jerry and I were driving the ‘thank god’ four short blocks to my house, he told me how much he had enjoyed meeting me. I politely said that I had enjoyed the evening too. As he pulled up in front of my building, this man who was more than 35 years older than me said, ‘Can I have a kiss good-night?’

‘WHAT?!?’ I screamed! ‘Why would I give you a kiss good-night? I’m not even on a date with you. That is such an inappropriate thing to ask.’ I leaped out of the car, thanked him for the ride, closed the door, and bolted into my condo.

The next day, my friend was apologetic for his friends’ behavior. He told me that out of all the girls Jerry had met through him, I was the only one he had been attracted to. Nice, NICE for Jerry! But it was creepy for me. I told my friend that Jerry needed to take a good look in the mirror! UGH!

So once again, straight men seem to have an oddly over-developed level of confidence regardless of their age.

Then there is the Dating Sites ‘Straight Guy Syndrome’

My theory is even more magnified when you look at the people who are approaching you on Bumble, or Tinder, or whatever dating site you are on. I have to wonder what the men that are ‘buzzing’ about me are seeing on my profile and profile pics that makes them think I would be interested in getting to know them?

For example, the Young Guy …

Why does a 27-year-old single father of two who is in the military and lives in San Diego think that I might want to date him? Does he not realize that he’s a little young for me? And does he not worry that the ‘two to five-hour drive depending on traffic’ commute to take me on out on a date, might ultimately make him want to turn his military-issued gun on himself?

Does he have ‘mummy’ issues? I’m not interested in being a mummy to a 27-year-old man. And unless he’s planning to send a helicopter to pick me up, I’d never drive that far a date. Santa Monica, that’s too far in traffic. The valley, not even a question.

Why does he ask me? He has that ‘straight guy syndrome,’ he has that ‘I’ve nothing to lose, and maybe she’ll bite’ kind of a mentality.

Or then there was the Rich Dude…

The rich dude who reached out to me saying he wanted to get to know me, and that I shouldn’t give up the opportunity to know him because he was ‘good looking and wealthy, so what else did I need to know!’

You’re right; I didn’t need to know anything else because I have no interest in dating a pompous, narcissistic ass. Wealth often makes the straight man feel like he’s wearing a cloak of invincibility, and that his money will get him, anyone, he wants.

Let’s not forget the stupid dude…

Yep, the guy who said, ‘I’ve got wood, let’s build a wooden badger’… Yep, so huh? What the fuck are you talking about, and I’m creeped out that you’ve actually seen my picture, and….
I shut down my online dating site….

What about the Straight Guy Syndrome for the Regular Guy?

Okay, so extreme examples aside, I am still sticking with my theory. Most of my straight male friends’ have insecurities like everyone else. They worry about aging, but they don’t obsess over it. The normal guys may know they’re maybe a few pounds overweight, but they don’t let that stop them from doing what they want to do or going after what they want. They may notice that they have smile lines when they smile, but they don’t rush to the dermatologists for Botox.

Basically, they handle their insecurities, and ignore their imperfections and move forward going after what they want. They don’t think ‘She wouldn’t be interested in me,’ rather they think ‘why wouldn’t she go for me, after all, I’m _______ (fill in the blank – hot, handsome, cool, rich)’ they just seem to know they’ve got it ‘going on.’

Wishes, wishes, wishes…

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all have a little of the ‘Straight Guy Syndrome?’ Maybe we should take a confidence lesson from straight men, and be content with who we are and trust that we have what it takes to do or get what we want.

But then, women and gay men really would run the world. Just sayin’!

And the moral of this ‘Straight Guy Syndrome’ story is…

1. Girls, if you are shocked that he approaches you, hits on you, or asks you out, remember, they don’t look in the mirror and see what they don’t like; they only see what they like. Use their self-confidence and turn it on yourself.
2. Women, gays, bisexual, etc. we may be harder on ourselves, but we have a far more refined and discerning palate. I think that this automatically makes us more interesting.
3. Remember, we all see life differently. Accept others for how they are, but don’t internalize any of their bullshit. Ever.

If you want to check out my novel, a sweet story about a dog and his human, you’ll love Where the Dogs Go, available online at Amazon and Barnes and Nobles.

Is Valentine’s Day the Most Romantic Day?

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Is Valentine’s Day the Most Romantic Day?
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Is Valentine’s Day the Most Romantic Day of the Year?

The most romantic day of the year, February 14th is the day we officially celebrate LOVE! All of the coupled people out there know that this is the one day of the year where your partner, your spouse, your boyfriend, or your girlfriend better bloody-well step up to the plate and make this day extra special. Expectations of intimate dinners, intimate gifts, and well, intimacy are not only clearly delineated; they are also expected.

Restaurants, greeting card companies, florists, chocolate companies, lingerie stores, advertise, and promote their special Valentine’s Day-themed amenities in hopes of cashing in on you and your loved ones’ expectations for the most ‘Romantic Day of the Year.’

The expectations of performance, on every level on this day, are actually overwhelming. And, as we all know, relationships are not always a TEN on the happiness scale. So how do we navigate this pre-determined most romantic day of the year?

Let’s start with the Happy Relationships…

So, you and your partner are in LOVE. You enjoy each other’s company, have a healthy sex life, stimulating conversation, and trust that you both have found your soulmate. In this case, you look forward to this day: flowers, candlelit dinners, romance… yep, it’s on.

But I have to wonder how many relationships out there actually are happy enough to navigate this holiday unscathed?

Flashback to when I was in a so-called Happy Relationship…

One of my now ex-boyfriends, ‘apparently’ had a phobia of Valentine’s Day. Why? Was he afraid of getting pierced by Cupid’s arrow and left with a deep wound? Well, that’s not far off the mark, so to speak. He had a fear of commitment, and Valentine’s Day meant a commitment to committing to being in a committed relationship, which scared the fuck out of him.

So, knowing this, I wasn’t holding out any great hope for a big romantic evening, but my little heart kept hoping he would love me enough to well, just get over his damn stupidity. So, when he suggested cooking a romantic dinner for me, something he had never done before, I’ll add, I was over the moon.

Imagine my surprise when he called me on his way home on Valentine’s Day to tell me he was stopping at Gelson’s to pick out some ‘amazing food’ from their bar of hot foods. I remember initially being quiet, then shocked, and finally mustering up the courage to ask, ‘What happened to you cooking a romantic dinner for me?’ And his remark was, ‘This is my idea of cooking.’

Flashback to now… my NOT the most Romantic Day of the Year memory…

Yep, I slammed down the phone. Of course, he called back multiple times, all of which I ignored. I was hurt, I was pissed, and I was crying. I realized at this moment that after ten months of being in a happy relationship: great conversation, great sex, and great fun times, that I was dating a loser. A loser who was afraid of a stupid day called Valentine’s Day. Fearful that celebrating this day with me, in a genuinely loving way, would somehow change him. How damn lame is this? When I finally picked up the phone, I screamed into his ear at length about what a lame-ass loser he was, unleashing the demon that can be me when I am truly, pissed.

Ironically, my hissy fit of rage worked as we ended up at one of those fancy restaurants that night, with the pre-selected three-course meal. And I was momentarily happy. But, once reality hit, the momentary happiness was replaced with the sad realization that this man was not, and never would be the right guy for me.

Result: One happy, loving relationship derailed and ended shortly after the MOST romantic day of the year.

So, what if you KNOW YOUR relationship sucks? How do you navigate the most Romantic Day of the Year?

Surviving The Most Romantic Day of the Year When Your Relationship SUCKS…

Okay, so things are tense in your relationship. Perhaps there is no sex or no conversation, or there are money issues, or you just don’t love each other anymore but stay together for GOD know what reason. Then what does this day mean to you?

FROM A GUY’S PERSPECTIVE:

Shit, I have to spend money on a three-course dinner with her, ugh. What will we talk about? Do I have to get her flowers, too? I’d rather give them to the cute girl at the office, at least she smiles at me. She probably is expecting chocolates; she loves those damn truffles. I mean, I like truffles too, but, if she would work-out, I wouldn’t have to worry about her gaining five pounds. It’s not like I care if she is a little chubby, but then I have to listen to her ask me over and over again if ‘she looks fat in her jeans’ and even when I lie and say no, she still doesn’t believe me. God damn, this is so much stress. Hey, but I wonder, if I make an effort, will I finally get laid tonight? Or, will she just pass out from drinking too much wine like she always does. I fucking hate Valentines’ Day.

FROM A GIRL’S PERSPECTIVE:

Great, it’s the most romantic day of the year, and I have to spend it with him. I know he’s going to mention multiple times how ridiculous the pre-set three-course dinner you have to pay for whether you eat it or not menu, pisses him off. And, I bet he forgets to get me flowers and grabs some from Pavillions on the way home. It’s embarrassing and hard to pretend to get excited about wilted store-bought flowers. I know it’s the thought that counts, but it makes me feel like I’m just an after-thought. I know he’s expecting me to get some new sexy lingerie. I’ve been dieting for days now so I can fit into it, and look hot. But how am I going to have a flat stomach and look sexy after a three-course dinner? The pressure is unbearable. Maybe I’ll just drink a lot and hope to pass out, or, if I don’t, I’ll be too drunk to care what I look like naked. You know, I fucking hate Valentine’s Day.

SOLUTION:

There is none. The unhappy couple goes through the motions, and they are both… miserable.

Okay, so now to the SINGLE people on the Most Romantic Day of the Year…

So, you are single. Dateless. Alone. You want to hide out from the world and avoid all forms of human life so that no one can corner you at the gym, or the water-cooler at work, and ask you what you are doing for Valentine’s Day. You’d do anything to avoid having to say, ‘nothing.’ Why, because you are single. On this day, the most romantic day of the year, you suddenly feel pathetic, unlovable, and lonely.

Even when some of your friends suggest you do a ‘girl’s night’ or your ‘gusband’ (Gay-husband) invites you to dinner, the fact that you are single is the only thing that resonates in your mind.

I’ve tried these things in the past. I’ve done a girls’ night one time, and three of my girlfriends and I went out. And guess what? We all felt PATHETIC! I’ve gone out with my gay-boyfriends, and it’s been fun but not like the fun of being with a male you want to kiss and make-out with after dinner.

When I had my puppy Canoli, at least I could spend time with him and do some retail therapy shopping together on Robertson Boulevard. Somehow, the momentary pleasure from buying something new, you know ‘Happiness in a Bag Syndrome,’ really does work! And let’s face it, there is nothing like the unconditional love of a dog.

HONESTY FOLKS

I’ll be honest, I never feel lonely. I don’t. But, on Valentine’s day aka Single Awareness Day, otherwise, know as S.A.D., I am forced to acknowledge that I, Janell Martin, am single. But, so what? What does that mean to me?

It just means that I’m waiting for the right partner to share my life. Who wants to spend time with Mr. Wrong, Mr. In Between, Mr. He Drives Me Crazy, Mr. Cheapy, Mr. Ewe, I wouldn’t be surprised if someday he’ll end up being a Miss, … JUST SAYIN! …

It’s better off in life to be happy with your own company than be with someone who is just sucking away your beautiful light.

So, on that note…. The moral of this ‘Most Romantic Day of the Year’ story is…

  1. If you are indeed in a happy, loving relationship, then cherish it. Feed it, nurture it, respect it, treasure it, and value it. Relationships are not easy to maintain; they are work. You need to give as much as you get, if not more.
  2. If you are in an unhappy union, then what the fuck are you doing? Life is short, why are you compromising your happiness with the wrong person. Love yourself enough to be alone and learn who you are, then, and only then will you attract the right love to your heart.
  3. And, if you are single, fucking embrace it! Enjoy your freedom! Don’t be sad for what you don’t have right now. Enjoy the fact that you are strong enough to enjoy your own company and you are not willing to compromise your integrity for the thing that matters the most to you in your life, YOU!
  4. And lastly, be grateful for all of the friends who love you, a family that cherishes you (or hey, puts up with you), animals that snuggle with you, and mostly be grateful for YOU. You only have one ride as YOU, ROCK THAT DAMN RIDE, and love yourself.

 

DATING PTSD

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WheatFieldstoWonderland
DATING PTSD
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DATING PTSD – And why its RAMPANT in LOS ANGELES!

Have you ever experienced what I call “dating PTSD”? Are you wondering what my whacky brain has come up with now, or do you totally get the direction I am heading in?

PTSD is an acronym for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Individuals who suffer from major traumatic incidences often develop PTSD, and sometimes, the traumatic memories can be triggered when situations occur where the individual is reminded of the past traumatic event. In reality, the mere fact of living in a city like Los Angeles likely has multiple instances of PTSD flashbacks on a daily basis, as life can be difficult in this city. But, for this story’s sake, I am only going to reference dating PTSD, because I believe that single people everywhere are ALL suffering from a form of dating PTSD on some level.

What the hell is dating PTSD?

Let’s face it: If you are still single, and you are actively looking for a partner to spend your life with, you likely have had to kiss your share of frogs. Kissing frogs has become an accepted rite of passage in modern life, making dating numerous potential partners in an effort to find true love, socially acceptable.   It is kind of like the universe is giving you permission to kiss as many frogs as you need to in order to find your handsome prince. Because let’s face it—everyone, at the end of the day, still wants to end up living in their own version of a fairytale-destined-to-be-together romance of a relationship, where chivalry and passion will keep you in love when the going gets tough.

The only problem with this scenario is sometimes, some of the frogs we end up kissing, leave us with massive scars and wounds and traumatic emotional injuries that I believe result in dating PTSD. Sometimes when these distressing wounds from past relationships reappear or are even gently triggered, we run from a person and a potential relationship before we even give the person a fair shake.

I am betting you are all thinking now, hmm, maybe she does have a point here. I can only use my personal examples of my very own dating PTSD and point them out to you, which will hopefully make you ponder your own life and reconsider the way you are looking at a potential contender.

Let’s start with …Younger Cute Guy dating PTSD

Okay, at first you are excited that a younger, hot guy is besotted with you. Just when you decide that you might kiss this young tadpole and let him hang out with you on your lily pad, you suddenly have a flashback to when you dabbled your little-webbed toes into this pond before. Suddenly, you remember your past ‘younger cute guy’, who wondered what the small dimple in your thigh was, so you explained that regardless of how much you exercise, you have a few dimples of cellulite here and there. So, when he remarked that he had never seen that before, except on his mother’s and grandmother’s legs—him now admitting that he had only ever dated young model types—you and your cellulite dimples felt humiliated and insecure. You were therefore so worried about him noticing any more body imperfections that you pushed him off your lily pad and back into the pond before he had a chance to discover any of your other flaws.

So, this past traumatic moment—when it becomes a flashback after you meet another ‘younger cute guy’ who wants to take you out—results in dating PTSD, and you don’t even give your new suiter a chance.

Well, then there is the opposite… Older Dude dating PTSD

So, a handsome distinguished ‘older dude’ is checking you out at the gym. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak to you and inevitably asks you out. Okay, so he might be a little older than a guy you normally would date, but he is established, dapper, and drives a nice car. But, just when you rationalize the age difference knowing that you will be picked up in a Bentley and will have a fabulous dinner at Spago, your brain suddenly has a traumatic flashback to the previous ‘older dude’ you dated before. Suddenly you remember the waiter asking if you were his daughter, and then you flash back to having to read the menu to him when he forgot his glasses at home, and if that wasn’t enough, then you remember his long saggy balls and you literally gag on your own repressed thoughts.

So, without even giving this ‘older dude’ a chance, you call it off (or you might just wait until after the dinner at Spago, because… it is, after all, SPAGO!) – the result, ‘Older Dude’ dating PTSD

Just think about it, I bet you have tons of dating PTSD examples from your own life. Dating PTSD happens a lot, and when we meet someone who has a characteristic from someone in our painful past, sometimes we just PASS on this person before giving them a chance.

Here are some more examples, in case you are still perplexed, of Dating PTSD!

  • I dated a Scorpio before, and he was a cheater. PASS! Astrology-dating PTSD!
  • I dated an Investment Banker before, he was a player and a womanizer! PASS! Career-Choice-dating PTSD!
  • I dated an Actor before, and I got tired of paying for everything! PASS! Struggling-Actor-Director-Writer-Producer Hollywood-dating PTSD!
  • I dated a guy who was separated from his wife before, but it turns out she was out of the country, and they were only separated by an ocean. He was a married-cheater! PASS! Separated-man-dating PTSD!
  • I dated a guy with kids before, and his kids blamed me for ruining their parents’ relationship—even though I met him five years after his divorce—because me being in the picture was, in his kids’ minds, the only thing keeping their parents from getting back together. PASS! Divorced-dad-dating PTSD!

So, you see, with the prevalence of dating PTSD definitely on the rise, especially with the preponderance of the acceptance of serial-societal-frog-kissing, the dating pool is dwindling before our very eyes. Why?!? Because when we fish in the dating pool, and when we catch a fish that resembles one that previously left a bad taste in our mouth, instead of maybe giving that fish a chance—and perhaps baking it instead of frying it—we throw it back because the PTSD memory is so strong, that we don’t want to chance ever tasting that bad fish again.

THE Result! Everyone is still single!!!

So, the moral of this dating PTSD story is:

  1. Dating sucks, but if you don’t try and put your fishing pole into the dating pool of life, you better love your own company and enjoy talking to yourself. If you start to answer back, well, that is a subject for another blog.
  2. Just because something looks similar, doesn’t mean it is similar. Hello! A fake Louis-Vuitton is sometimes almost identical to a real one, but a real Louis-Vuitton is worth the wait!
  3. Instead of assuming you know someone based on a generalization or a past experience, maybe give them a chance before you throw them back into the dating pool. Familiarity breeds contempt, but shit, but giving someone a chance might be worth the risk if you find love in the end. Just a thought…

Please check out my book, Where the Dogs Go available at Amazon or Barnes and Nobles! For Dog Lovers EVERYWHERE! WOOF!!

Dating a Killer

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WheatFieldstoWonderland
Dating a Killer
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Date with a KILLER!!

 

Have you ever seen any of the Lifetime movies where the girl isn’t aware that the man that she is dating is, in actuality, a killer who is eventually going to try to kill her? He is always some handsome ‘catch of a man’ who is so seemingly perfect –too perfect—until his psycho killer personality rears its scary head? I have seen so many of those movies that you would think that by this stage in my life, I would be outwardly skeptical of any ‘random stranger’ that I happened to meet.

So, when…

Two years ago, I was out with one of my girlfriends, catching up and indulging in the relatively cheap happy hour menu at Café Roma in Beverly Hills. We were sitting on two bar stools, giggling ourselves silly – the $6 glasses of wine undoubtedly contributing to the giddiness—when all of a sudden, a handsome man pushed his way in-between us to order a cocktail. When he spotted my friend, you could tell that he was very attracted to her and he immediately began to engage her in flirtatious banter.

The man was visiting from Texas, and if his accent wasn’t a giveaway to his tourist identity, the Crocs he wore on his feet were an obvious sign that this guy wasn’t from the hood of Beverly. He said his best friend was on his way to meet him, and he asked if we would like to join them for dinner.  Okay, so I had just eaten two appetizers and was on my second glass of wine, and I wasn’t interested in hanging out with this tourist and his friend for another few hours, but my girlfriend seemed to really like this Texas boy named… Jess. So, even before meeting Jess’s friend, I conceded to hang out with the Texan tourists to make my girlfriend happy.

Jess ended up being a gentleman, and when our bill came, he insisted upon paying for the entire happy hour bill. I was starting to think that maybe there really was something to southern charm, holding out hope that my last-minute dinner companion would be just as cute and charming as my girlfriend’s Texas boy. I was starting to daydream, hoping that my Texas guy was going to be a southern prince, and was sipping on my cheap wine, when Jess taped my shoulder and said “Janell, meet Tommy.”

I swiveled around on my bar stool, with my happy alcohol-induced buzz, and had my first look at Tommy: 50ish, 6 foot 5, skinny – yet with a protruding belly of some sort—wearing khaki shorts, a Hawaiian button-down shirt, and flip flops.  He had a full head of dark brown hair, and I was trying to determine if he had an attractive face, but all I could see was his big, bushy, MASSIVE handlebar moustache— one that was so pronounced that it practically swallowed up his face.

All I could think was ‘God, I am going to be stuck with ‘Croc-boy’ and ‘Moustache-Man’ for the next several hours, and I prayed that I didn’t run into anyone I knew for the rest of the night. Tommy and Jess were staying at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, and the concierge had told him that the Soho House was the hottest place to go in LA.  My girlfriend piped up and said, “Oh Janell knows lots of people who go there, maybe she can get us in?” as she looked at me.    I tried to tell them that it was a private club, and as I was not a member, I had no way to get them in. Besides that, even if I could… would I take them and be seen with them there? NOT!

Tommy wanted to go, and said he could throw a few hundred at the door and knew we could get in. He informed us he was wealthy and could buy his way into anywhere in the world by throwing cash at the door.  At this point, I was really starting to get irritated with Tommy, as I patiently tried to explain to him that LA is a city where money doesn’t always talk.  The two of us were bickering back and forth.  I was starting to hate his obnoxious ‘money can buy all attitude’ and I told my girlfriend that I was tired and really wanted to go home. Tommy looked relieved, as neither of us wanted to spend two more hours in each other’s company.  But Jess insisted I stay, and I conceded to dinner down the street at Mastros, where I have to add that Tommy’s money-throwing talents did manage to get us a table in the best section of the already-packed restaurant.

Okay, so how bad could dinner at Mastros really be? As such, I settled in and decided to order literally ‘everything I wanted’ as I did not care if Tommy liked me or not.  I was stuck in this situation, so I decided to make the best of it and pig the fuck out.  As such, I suggested the seafood tower as an appetizer for all of us, and then ordered a petit filet and lobster garlic mashed potatoes, and what the hell, wouldn’t a bottle of Opus One go swimmingly with my dining choices?  (And remember, I had already eaten two appetizers, let’s just say this prairie Canadian girl can really put it back when she wants to).

As Jess and my girlfriend chatted away, I was forced to make conversation with Tommy. As it turned out—handlebar moustache aside—Tommy was a really interesting man. He owned an oil company in Texas, had a ski chalet in Vail, had been divorced twice, had three kids, but most importantly… he had a dog, and in my books, dog people are good people. By the time dinner ended, Girlfriend and Jess took off and left the two of us to chat, and we ended up sitting and talking for several hours about life.

Tommy said that he was bored with his life, that he had been everywhere, travelled the world, and that there was no excitement left for him. I told him maybe he should try giving instead of taking, and spend his time helping others with his wads of cash; that helping others to make the world a better place just might make him see his world in a lovelier light.  I think the Texas oilman was not used to big mouthed, opinionated girls like me, and for some reason my sassy suggestions seemed to resonate with him.

Finally it was midnight, and even though he did not turn into a Prince, he was a gentleman and ordered a car to make sure I got home safely. And I realized that I had met a new friend, and was glad that I had given him and his handlebar moustache a chance.

Well, we aren’t done yet, what about the Killer bit… hmm, lets continue…

So Tommy kept emailing me over the next few months, sharing photos of his life: pictures of his homes, his kids, his dog – basically we became email friends.  Then one day out of the blue he invited me to celebrate his birthday in Vegas.  He was hosting a big party for all of his friends. He said he would fly me in, and put me up at the Cosmopolitan as he would like to get to know me better.

Hmm, I wasn’t sure what the implications were in the ‘get to know me’ better bit, however he did emphasize that I would have my own room, and he thought I would enjoy meeting and hanging out with his friends. Okay, so VEGAS – it’s only an hour away by plane, and worst case, if he was a wacko I could always run to the airport and jump on a flight as flights leave to LAX practically every hour.  Plus let’s face it, how bad could two nights in Vegas be with a Texas Oil GAZILLIONAIRE???

So I packed my Louis Vuitton and off to Vegas I went….

Well let’s just say that throwing money at people in Vegas – works, EVERYTIME. Tommy had his birthday scheduled out for the two days, and his friends were cool right down to their handlebar moustaches.  I felt like I was in a time warp, hanging out with a bunch of Tom Selleck wannabe’s from Magnum P.I.   However, money does make for easy fun, and over the two days we went to the best restaurants, saw shows, a concert, laid out in the sun and drank – a lot.  I started to notice that Tommy was never without a drink in his hands, even the first morning at breakfast he had a double vodka and tomato juice.  I started to count his drinks, and he had at least 2 to 3 an hour – and at that, was completely sober.  The second night after the tasting menu at Guy Savoy, we gambled. By this time in my trip it was obvious to everyone—including me—that Tommy liked me.  We started to gamble and he kept giving me money to gamble with, and let’s just say that when you aren’t gambling with your own money, it is a lot of fun, and you have nothing to lose. By the end of the night I had about $700 in my pocket and had consumed a few glasses of champagne, and Tommy’s handlebar moustache was actually starting looking pretty damn sexy to me.

With that revelation, I realized that I must be drunk, and as I could barely keep my eyes open, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to my room and basically, passed out. At five am, I almost had a heart attack when I was awoken by someone trying to break into my room.  I feared that a rapist, stalker, or killer was loose in the Cosmopolitan hotel and I was about to be the highlight of the Vegas morning news.

The killer ended up being a drunken Tommy who slur-rely explained that ‘he who pays for the room, gets a key to the room’, and he jumped into bed with me and cuddled me and passed out.   I laid there rather motionless until he got up to pee (like a racehorse I will add, for like at least 4 minutes straight I will add) and came back and sat beside me, and apologized for his drunken brazen actions.

We actually ended up talking the rest of the night, and I told him that he had better be a gentleman as, after all, we weren’t even on an official date. He said I was a weird chick in a good way, and wondered if I would let him get to know me further.

By the time I flew home, I was actually beginning to wonder if I could go from Beverly Hills to Southfork and be happy. Could I change my name to Janellabelle? Tommy was sweet, funny, and generous, and I was actually even quite fond of his handlebar moustache. Moving to Texas aside, it was his constant and continual drinking that was troublesome to me.

Regardless, I was back in La La Land and ready to resume my life and see what transpired between me and my Texan guy.

Okay Janell, so that was the killer part of the story?? You made us read through long-assed story to find out that the killer in him was only his killer intrusion?

Hang on, my killer story isn’t done yet….

So for the next few weeks, Tommy called me daily. In one very long call, he asked if he told me something about himself, something he regretted having happened, if I could get beyond his past regrettable transgressions. And I, jokingly said, well as long as you weren’t a wife beater, a criminal or a killer, I could likely get past anything … as I giggled at his oddly phrased question.

The next day I didn’t hear from Tommy. In fact a few days went by where I didn’t receive an email, text or call. I was upset and going over every text and email with a fine-tooth comb, trying to figure out what I may have said or done wrong.  As I was telling this tale to a male colleague at work, hoping for some testosterone-inspired advice, my colleague asked if I had ever googled him.

And of course, I hadn’t. So we both started to google his name, and my colleague said….”does he live in Dallas? Because there is a Tommy _____ from Dallas who ran over a boy, killing him while driving an ATV drunk as a skunk at a party, and he was so drunk that he dragged the poor kid’s body for a block before he realized that he had even hit someone. “

Ugh, Tommy was killer. He wasn’t a hitman killer, or a mobster killer, or a psycho killer, or a serial killer, or even a lady-killer – he was a drunk, who became so drunk that he became a reckless drunken killer.

There was a trial, he was arrested on second degree murder, and once I started to dig, I found out that his lawyer had come up with some ‘technical ATV malfunction’ bullshit of a defense, leaving an entire community enraged that this his rich-drunken-KILLER-ass had been vindicated by a jury of his peers.

Of course, I never heard from him again.

And the moral of this story is…
  1. Handlebar Moustaches and Crocs can grow on you, so give people you normally wouldn’t find attractive a chance, because you never know lies beneath the surface.
  2. You can date someone with ‘Killer Style’, or who is ‘Killer Fancy’, but never someone who is a ‘Killer Drunk’ because you never know who might get injured in their drunken state of intoxication.
  3. I was sad to learn that not all ‘Dog People’ are good people, and that even some good people make bad choices sometimes.

Check out the audio link below… Cheers!!!

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