In Praise of Women

Sometimes we need to pause, reflect and appreciate. When we're dating, sometimes we get so caught up in DATING that we forget why we're looking for that special someone in our lives. When we're in a relationship, sometimes we forget to appreciate that special someone who is ALREADY in our lives.

So, on behalf of men everywhere, I would like to take a moment to appreciate what makes women so attractive, delightful and breath-taking to men.

It is quite true that men and women are very different creatures. No one has described this difference better than John Gray in his Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus series of insightful books. I believe that the differences between the sexes is where the chemistry of romance is brewed.

What do I love about women? Ladies, I love your passion. I love that you can get excited over impossibly tall high-heeled shoes. I love it that you find shoes "cute." I love that you're willing to wear shoes tall enough to give you a nose bleed if you think men will find you attractive in them.

I love women because they can't walk past those "Adopt a Pet" displays in the parking lot in front of Whole Foods. While a man says, "We already have a dog," a woman says, "But look at this one-- she's so CUTE!" Women are the reason that Americans have more pets than children.

I love women because they always have something to say. Men, on the other hand, never have anything to say. When two men haven't seen each other for three months, one asks, "What's new?" The other one says, "Same old, same old," forgetting all about his brother's operation and his sister's wedding. But two women who have just returned from the restroom together can talk for hours about the mutural friend that they just discovered they had. If it wasn't for women's verbal communications skills, we men wouldn't know anything about anyone.

I love the gentle, nurturing side of women. While men are all hard edges and tough exteriors, women are soft and inviting. Women invented hugging. Women invented kissing a hurt finger to make it better. Women naturally nurture themselves, every person on the planet and the planet itself. If it weren't for women, men would have blown up the Earth a long time ago.

I love women because they encourage men to be more human. There is nothing wrong with the manly pursuits of building stuff and going into corporate battle, but without women's humanizing influence, men would never do anything but work, battle and afterwards colapse into a heap on the couch.

It's women who convince us men to go on vacations and invite the neighbors over for dinner. Women help us remember to celebrate birthdays and take better care of ourselves. Women remind us to appreciate everything we have to appreciate in our lives.

And I, for one, appreciate everything that women do. Women make life fun. And for that, I thank you all.
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Chad Stone is the author of Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet: One Man's Brave Adventure into Dating Again in the 21st Century, which is available on amazon.com. The book has a happy ending, because Chad finds a woman to love and appreciate. And appreciate her, he does.

Talking about dating with the Broadminded Women

Yesterday I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Molly and Christine on the Broadminded show on Sirus XM radio. Both ladies were smart, funny and excellent interviewers. We talked about my book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet by Chad Stone, and we had a great time.

It was fun to share my dating experiences with Molly and Christine, who are both currently single. They wanted to know what women are doing wrong in the dating world, and that naturally began a discussion of online dating.

I told the ladies that most women don't realized that their online dating profiles aren't about sharing, they're about selling. That's right, online dating profiles are sales brochures. And the product you're selling is yourself. (This goes for men, too.)

Instead of sharing all about your darkest inner secrets, you online profile should present your very best attributes. Start with a nice photo of yourself. Get someone who knows how to take a good photo to take some head shots of you. (And no, Molly and Christine, I am not talking about a "boudior" photo like the ones you get at the mall photo studios.) Smile, for God's sake. Look happy and friendly.

Then, when you are describing yourself, don't go off on a rant about how you know what you want and know what you're willing to put up with in a man, "so don't ask me to compromise because I won't." Does that sound like the kind of woman that a man is going to approach? No way.

Write a profile that makes you sound fun. Write a profile that makes you sound like a man can woo you and make you happy. One of the things that women simply don't understand about men is that men love to please their women. So if you sound like a woman who is cranky and impossible to please, then you might as well be spreading Man Repellent around. The men will stay away in droves.

As I told Molly and Christine on their show, I firmly believe that all of us-- no matter how old we are or what our relationship experience is-- can find love. But in order for that to happen, we've got to BELIEVE it can happen, and then we have to do everything possible to MAKE it happen.

For lots more on this topic and advice about dating, go to amazon.com and by my book. Then write to me and tell me what you think of it. I'd love to know if my advice and my experience is helpful for you.

That's it for now. The Middle-Aged Babe Magnet has left the building.

:-)

Design the Cover of My New Book!

I am excited to tell you that my new book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet, is now undergoing final editing. A big-time book editor named Floyd is now polishing each sentence and getting the manuscript ready for publication. (Go, Floyd, go!)

The book will be published as an Amazon Kindle e-book, and it will be available for downloading in March 2012. The book is a humorous memoir of my personal dating experiences. The folks who have read the manuscript have said it is "laugh-out-loud funny" and "very instructional." I know, that's a weird combination, but it's a weird and wonderful book. In some ways, it's a self-help manual for single adults, because I share Babe Magnet Rules throughout the book that give pithy advice to single men in their quest for the Babe of their dreams.


Best of all, the book has a happy ending. I really did find True Love!

So, as the book marches toward publication, I officially announce the Babe Magnet Book Cover Design Contest. That's where you come in. Create a snappy, visually appealing "book cover" for Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet. In addition to the title, you also have to include the author's name-- Chad Stone. Make sure everything is readable in the small online Amazon Kindle web format. Make sure your submission is an original work of art, and you own all the rights to whatever images you use. The creator of the winning book cover image will win $250 and the fame and accolades that go with designing a big-time cover for a big-time book.

Here's some important technical info:
Kindle books must have a marketing cover image provided for use on the website detail page. The preferred format for the cover is a JPEG image of 600 x 800 pixels. More specifications are available here.

The deadline for submission of book cover images is Feb. 24, 2012. Send a JPEG image of your cover design to babemagnetchad@aol.com. Write to me if you have any questions.

So please get your creative juices flowing. I look forward to seeing your book cover designs!

p.s. Please pass the word about this contest!

Getting Back Into Dating Again

I have been asked about my upcoming book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet. It’s a humorous memoir about my post-divorce experience in the dating world. Throughout the book, I share dating advice, which I call Babe Magnet Rules. But it’s a difficult book to explain, so I thought I would use this blog post to share an excerpt from the book.

This chapter is from early in the book, when I had just begun my single life. Here we go:



An Excerpt from Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet by Chad Stone
I just did something amazing. I approached a beautiful woman in public and had a nice conversation with her.

I was sitting alone at a restaurant near my apartment, eating at the counter where it’s OK to read the magazines without buying them. In walks an attractive middle-aged woman all by herself. I catch her eye as she sits at a table and then quickly surveys the room.

In the most casual, not-too-obvious way I watch her to see if anyone is going to join her. Apparently not.

All right, it’s pretty obvious that she knows I’m watching her. She takes off her denim jacket to reveal a black tank top and breasts that were not installed at the factory. They are perky and considerably younger than the rest of her body. Her hair is frosted blonde and her skin is pleasantly tanned.

She gets up from her table and walks right in front of me, pretending that she needs extra napkins RIGHT NOW before her food is delivered to her table. I watch her walk back to her table, and she looks over to make sure I’m watching her.

Nice. Very nice.

Well, we’re both checking each other out from a safe distance. Now what? I scan the restaurant again to see if anyone is going to join her.

In my youth, I was never a great pickup artist. Actually, I was never a pickup artist at all. Approaching a beautiful woman who I don’t know is not something that I have done in decades. It’s the worst, most frightening sort of cold call there is. I can make a business cold call, because I have a purpose and I have confidence in my business skills. But a cold call to pickup a beautiful woman? That’s completely out of my comfort zone.

Many years ago, I shared a bachelor pad with Pete, a friend from college who shared my appreciation for the female gender. We were both 21 or 22, single, and we had WAY more hormones than we knew what to do with.

Pete and I used to walk to the supermarket every Tuesday after work because we knew that a drop-dead gorgeous woman shopped there at the same time every week. She was tall and blonde and dressed smartly in a business jacket and a tight but not too-tight skirt. We surmised that she was a lawyer based on her attire and the businesslike precision with which she carried herself.

We used to follow her around through the store, hanging back so she wouldn’t notice us. I always felt that she was out of my league, so the closest I ever got to actually having a conversation with her was the one time I walked beside her and noticed that she had bought some fresh fish from the meat counter.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Finally I said, “Fish. I like fish.” She looked at me strangely, like I had just dragged myself out of the ocean and I was attempting to walk on land for the first time. I had no follow-up line, so I slinked away, dragging my tail fin behind me.

That was the first and last time I ever talked to the Lawyer Babe.

So, my history of picking up Babes is not long and impressive. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve seen an attractive woman that I didn’t talk to, I’d be listed right under Bill Gates in the Fortune 400 list of gadzillionaires.

Well, what the hell. I’m more than 50 years old and I’ve never heard of anyone dying from talking to a beautiful woman. Humiliated, for sure. But there is no known case of lightning bolts zapping a poor, unfortunate man who dared to talk to a woman that he didn’t know. I am quite sure that there is nothing in the Bible that specifically forbids it. There’s a commandment against adultery and against coveting thy neighbor’s wife, but there’s no commandment that says, “Thou shalt not talk to Babes.”

I have observed many Babe Magnets over the years. These studly men reek of self-confidence and never seem at a loss for words. When they see a Babe, they pounce. That’s because they know…


BABE MAGNET RULE #3
Babe Magnets always make the first move.


I take a deep breath. I’m going for it. I get up and walk to the Blonde Babe’s table.

As I walk across the restaurant, the room keeps getting larger. A little stroll that should have taken me just seconds is stretching longer and longer. After an hour I am still walking.

Then I am standing next to her and I am forced to speak.

“Excuse me, are you dining alone tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too. Do you mind if I join you?”

She smiles. She has perfect white teeth that are no older than her breasts. “Not at all,” she says in a pleasing tone of voice.

I go back to the counter, grab my plate and glass, and walk them over to her table. As I set them down I say, “Well, this is kind of weird, but I didn’t want to eat alone.”

If it’s weird for her, she doesn’t admit it. We start talking. Her name is Laura. She is a zookeeper. In my entire life, I’ve never met a real zookeeper. Her job gives us lots to talk about, and I ask her a lot of questions because I’m genuinely interested. I feel a little like the late Mr. Rogers, asking the zookeeper about all of the fascinating things she does because it needs to fill a whole segment of his show.

Laura takes care of the large, hoofed animals—everything from rhinos to antelopes. From what she says it’s a bizarre and wonderful job. She even taught the rhinos to stand on a huge scale. It took a whole year of work, but she did it. That’s the kind of story that would make a great quirky item on the local news.

But while I am talking to her, my mind is filling with inappropriate questions:

“Do you ever use whips at work? How about at home?”

“What’s the biggest snake you’ve ever gotten your hands on?”

“What do you do with the peacock feathers you find?”

“How many times have guys used a ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ line on you?”

“How often do zoo animals have sex?”

I have to focus really hard on our conversation to make all of the wild-animals-having-sex images leave my head.

I tell her a little bit about me and my work. It’s not as exciting as two massive rhinos going at it, but Laura seems mildly interested.

We talk for a while, and I find my eyes glancing at different parts of her body. Her arms are well toned and she is clearly vain enough to take pride in her body. And there are those wonderful, young perky breasts just waiting for a chance to breathe fresh air. Breasts must really hate to be trapped in bras all day where they can’t see the light of day.

How old is she? Somewhere in her early 50s. She has two kids, ages 33 and 31. If she had the first child when she was 18, she’d be 51 now.

She tells me that she’s expecting a friend to join her. I assume that it’s a female friend. I am dead wrong. Carl, a nice-looking bearded man, arrives and suddenly I go from feeling confident to feeling like I have invaded another man’s territory. Crap.

“We were both dining alone and decided to sit together,” I explain.

Carl is very gracious— probably more gracious than I would be in his situation.

The conversation at the table dies. It’s an awkward moment. Carl gets up to go back to the counter to order food, and I get up to find a take-out box to pack up what’s left of my fish and chips.

Laura and I chit-chat lightly while I package my food to go. I say “nice meeting you” and I leave them to their regularly scheduled rendezvous.

I didn’t get Laura’s last name or phone number, so there is no way for me to contact her again.

I think about her later in the evening when I’m back in my bachelor apartment. We had a pleasant conversation, but we didn’t spend enough time together to know if there could have been any magic between us.

It’s not like I closed the deal, but I made my first Babe Cold Call, and I feel good. I am proud of myself for having the guts to get up from my comfortable spot in the restaurant and join her. I actually approached a beautiful woman and proved that I could have a pleasant conversation. Sure, I bolted when her male friend showed up, but I still made first contact.

For the first time as a newly single man, I feel like I am going to do just fine in this brave new world of meeting new women.

Save as Draft book review

I recently received a review copy of Save as Draft, a delightful new novel by Cavanaugh Lee that traces the thoroughly modern dating and relationship life of Izabell, a wactress (waitress/actress) turned lawyer. The “hook” of this book is that it is comprised entirely of the texts, emails and tweets that Izabell and her friends send and receive.

The story begins with the eHarmony messages that Izabell receives about Martin (her “Match #6”) and Martin receives about Izabell (his “Match #137”). Alas, their promising romance will not immediately blossom, primarily because of Izabell’s growing fascination with her co-worker, Peter.

The telling of this story through emails and texts is both brilliant and frustrating. We all know that emails (and especially texts) have their pitfalls. Sure, they are instantaneous, but they lack the voice inflections of telephone calls and the context-rich nonverbal cues of face-to-face conversations. Because of this, Save as Draft is chatty and superficial. The characters hope, dream and fall in and out of love, but we (the readers) only get glimpses of their internal agonies and ecstasies.

The brilliance of the novel is in the emails that the characters write to each other but do not send. (These are “saved as draft,” which is where the title of the book is derived.) These unsent emails are the heartfelt communications that the characters SHOULD be sending. When Peter is falling for Izabell, he writes several “I love you” emails that he never sends. I wanted to slap him upside the head. Send the damn emails, you weenie! You’re not going to get the girl if she doesn’t know how you feel about her!

Save as Draft is a witty, well-written novel that provides valuable insight to the joys and pitfalls of dating in the internet age. It also serves as a warning for those of us who might rely too heavily on electronic forms of communication. In the humble opinion of this Middle-Aged Babe Magnet, texts and emails are best used as bridges between actual conversations. It’s too easy to misinterpret the sterile words on a computer screen or smart phone. That’s why emoticons and text shorthand (lol, omg) were developed to add meaning and emotion to cold, typed words.

I happen to be a big fan of technology. I am, after all, posting this on a blog—and I met my fiancée on match.com. I have first-hand knowledge of the value of using technology in dating and communicating. But when I have something important to say to my beloved, I want to gaze right into her beautiful eyes.

I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti

A woman named Giulia Melucci has a new book out called I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti. It’s a memoir about her dating life, but the hook is it also has recipes of some of the dishes that she has cooked for the men in her life.

I am very jealous of Ms. Melucci because not only did she get her book published by a big-time publishing company, she has already gotten stories about her book (and her life) in USA Today and the New York Times. It turns out that Giulia has also worked in publishing and has done p.r. for authors, so she’s very well connected.

I read the first few pages of her book on amazon.com, and then I Googled her and found her address in Brooklyn. So, more for a lark than anything, I wrote her a postcard:

Giulia—

I love your book and I love your sense of humor! I will fly across the country if you will cook a pasta dinner for me. I’ll bring a great bottle of red wine. Check your schedule and let me know what works for you! -- RDS (and my email address)

Will she respond? Well, I would. If she doesn’t email me back, I have her home phone number. I may have to call her!