• teased hair, heavy makeup, a low-cut top, a killer pair of manolos, three tuxedo-clad waiters, chocolate, and champagne screams high maintenance. it’s no wonder mr. right didn’t come calling with a long-stemmed rose. after all, in real life, i’m a jeans-and-flip-flops kind of gal.
• while being named a winner is certainly a crowning achievement, being profiled as “our very own bridget jones” is the kiss of death.
• when your road warrior photo and comparison to bridget are just a few keystrokes away, blind dates are no longer blind. on a similar note, when your potential suitor calls the evening before the big date and says, “so, i’ve been doing a bit of reconnaissance …,” cancel.
• when an online dating site matches you to a guy claiming to be the poster child for continental airlines, don’t bother. it won’t work.
• if you receive a letter that begins, “this is a random letter, so forgive me — but i read your profile on aa and wanted to say hi,” resist the urge to think stalker! and give the guy a chance. while he may be geographically undesirable, his could be the only fan mail you’ll ever get.
• if a stranger approaches and claims to recognize you from the magazine as “the one who has no life, no home, and who obviously needs a new job,” it’s probably time to make some serious changes in your life.
so that’s what i did — made some changes. in what became a whirlwind year, i moved from
san francisco to new york, traded in my road-warrior job, and have just returned from a few weeks in glorious italy. now i work out of a real office (not a virtual one), and unless someone at
american way can pull a few strings, i won’t even make platinum status this year.