Doing my part to recycle

I’m on one of those online dating services where you can check out other people’s profiles, write to any fellows that catch your eye without divulging your real email address, and browse through men by location, age, eye color, political affiliation, income level and about a hundred other qualifications. It’s kind of like ordering from a menu, which, I’ll admit, feels a little silly. (I’ll take a brunette who makes six figures and has blue eyes, please.) But, one thing I do like about this site is that I can see who is viewing my profile. Kind of like having a girlfriend with you when you go out to let you know which guys are checking you out behind your back.

The other day I was going through the list of guys who had viewed me, and I came across one that looked interesting. A little younger than I am, but that can be fun. Dark hair, kinda angsty looking in a very Johnny Depp way. I clicked on his profile. Hello. Nice pics. Looked like party boy for sure – lots of them taken at bars and restaurants – but definitely built. But the one pic that got me was of him in a kilt, holding a baby. Is there anything hotter than a cute guy holding a baby? Yes! Put him in a kilt! (Okay, my family’s Scottish, so I may be a little biased on this one. But seriously, Braveheart – tell me that wasn’t hot!)

So, even though I’m trying to steer clear of the young party boys at this point in my life, somehow my fingers acted all on their own, typing out a friendly hello message to him. (Fine, I’m not trying that hard.) Half an hour later I see he’s replied. Wow, that was quick. I open the message.

And freeze.

Not only did he write back, but he addressed me by my last name. I have a moment of shear gut wrenching panic wondering how on earth he found out my last name. This is supposed to be a secure dating site. Is he some sort of hacker? Does the site have a glitch? What other sort of personal information can these guys see about me? So, with my heart doing it’s imitation of a jackhammer, I read the rest of the note. Where he goes on to say how great it is to *see* his old L.A. roomie again. Roomie? What the…? I click on his picture again, cocking my head to the side as I study it.

When I was in my early twenties I lived in L.A. working as an actress. Money was tight, so lived in this big house with a bunch of other actor slash somethings. Actor slash waiters, actor slash security guards, actor slash tattoo artists… you get the point. And, since acting isn’t the most stable profession, roommates were always coming and going. At any given point there were anywhere from 4 to 8 of us living under the same roof. Think Friends but without the fancy loft and we're all Joey. (And, yes, for anyone who’s read my books, the Actor’s Duplex where Dana lives is totally modeled after this experience.)

So, as I stare at this guy’s picture it all comes flooding back, and in a total forehead smacking moment I realize I know him. He’s Actor Slash Personal Trainer! How could I forget? Not only do I know him, but I lived with the man for six months. I’ve seen in him in nothing but his boxers, making morning coffee.

It’s official. I’ve gone through all the men and am now recycling the old ones.


~Trigger Happy Halliday


P.S. Today is the one year anniversary of another fabulous blog – Beyond Her Book by Barabra Vey. Barbara Vey works as a blogger for Publisher's Weekly, a book industry magazine that's pretty much the "gold standard" of the business. (It’s the Vogue of our world.) Barbara is unique in that she LOVES romance novels and frequently talks about them on her blog, not only giving us great tips about new authors to pick up, but also adding validity to our genre. Her blog is currently up for review by the Publisher’s Weekly big wigs, so she’s asking that anyone who can, please visit her blog today so she can wow them with record numbers of readers and keep blogging about the genre we all love.
To help her out, just go to http://www.publishersweekly.com/blog/880000288.html