Drinking and Tweeting (18 page)

Dr. Gaynor said that my issues—from the face picking to the paralyzing fear of flying to the obsessing over my children—were all symptoms of my greater need to be in control. At the end of every session, he would lull me into deep relaxation and chant some affirmations. I saw him for two years, until, from his point of view, I was cured. However, I do keep one of his voice-mail messages saved on my phone, because just hearing his voice soothes me. I like to think he enjoyed our conversations, because I can’t imagine he gets too many patients as candid as me.

I was dealing with my head and heart; now it was time to deal with the outside. Sometimes it’s easy to just stop trying, isn’t it? But we’re not doing anybody any favors if we don’t take care of ourselves.

Since I was able to curb the picking, I decided to focus on healthier ways to make me feel confident about my skin. My list might seem extensive, but I assure you, each
procedure is completely necessary for me. Once a month, I treat myself to an IPL (intense pulsed light) photofacial to help reduce brown spots and acne scars. Every other month, I go in for a more intense laser therapy called Perfecta. I give myself weekly Jessner lactic acid peels to rejuvenate my skin and tighten my pores. Botox has been a part of my life for nearly fifteen years—today I am getting it in my forehead, around my eyes, and for the bunny lines around the bridge of my nose. I also dabble in fillers (both Juvéderm and Restylane) for my smile lines, the lines around my lips, my acne scars, and my nose.

Right after Eddie and I split up, I got fillers in my cheeks but absolutely hated it. I was totally unrecognizable. I’ll never do it again. Once I did this ultrasound therapy called Ultherapy to tighten up my jawline and neck, but it hurt like a motherfucker, and I’m not even sure it worked. Plus, given my allergy to most pain medication, I got to feel every moment of torture. But I like it to hurt. I want to feel it working, so I know I’m getting my money’s worth. Now I know this seems just like a continuance of my self-mutilation, but Dr. Gaynor can assure you that it’s not. Promise!

Contrary to popular belief, I’m an eater: fried foods, pasta, hamburgers, cheese, guacamole, chips, hot dogs . . . you name it. You’ll never find me ordering a piece of dry fish with a side of steamed broccoli. I was blessed with a speedy metabolism (don’t hate me, I promise I was born with many other flaws), so when I was younger, I had a difficult time keeping on the weight (it sounds like champagne problems, but trust me, it was just as annoying then as trying to lose weight is now). I lived in Milan for most of my modeling years, so I developed an obsession with Italian food, Italian clothes, and Italian men. All the calories I consumed from the fresh mozzarella, fried calamari, and veal Milanese were burned during evenings with Paolo, Gundem, and Mossimo (to name a few).

Today, I have become diligent about working out. For me, Pilates is the best way for me to maintain my figure—long, lean, and strong—but it’s different for everyone. I like Pilates because it lets me exercise while lying on my back. #Lazy. Experts always say that the most important thing is just getting off the couch, even if it’s just to go for a walk. Bullshit. My eighty-five-year-old grandma goes for power walks that would put most
people to shame, so don’t tell me you can’t aim a little higher. If you are under the age of sixty-five and not suffering any serious medical condition, get yourself to the gym—walking alone is not going to get you a twenty-five-year-old-looking ass. The only thing that will do that is intense exercise that gets your heart rate going. If you get bored chugging away on the elliptical, you can always opt to have a lot of rowdy sex instead.

W
hen I’m going through a particularly rough time, the next step is to go shopping. They don’t call it retail therapy for nothing, people. Whether it’s $100 or $100,000, set aside some money to indulge yourself. I call it “the come-fuck-me fund.” It’s the quickest way to get a much-needed pick-me-up.

It doesn’t take a fortune to look like a million bucks. Growing up, I would head to all the high-end stores and scout out that season’s trends before heading to more cost-effective shops to put together similar looks. Fashion does not need to be expensive, but if you have the cash to burn, by all means drive immediately to Neiman Marcus.

For you ladies, invest in some fabulous basics. You
know your best assets, so don’t be afraid to show them off. Whether it’s an hourglass figure, head-turning cleavage, a high, cute derriere, or legs for days, make sure that you work what your mama gave you.

1. Jeans: Women today don’t wear “mom jeans,” they wear skinny jeans! Throw away those baggy, acid-wash Eddie Bauers and treat yourself to some great low-rise, skinny jeans. Sears stores across the country used to offer customers the opportunity to design their own Levi’s. Old Navy does the same. It’s a great way to custom-create a pair of jeans perfectly suited to your body. And remember, the higher and smaller the pockets, the higher, firmer, and cuter the booty. You can quote me.

2. Black sport jacket and white top: Nothing pairs better with a great pair of jeans then a formfitting blazer and white tee. The blazer should have just the slightest shoulder pad and a tapered, short waist (to show off those small, high pockets), and for me, I prefer a body-hugging wife-beater. You can also pair the jacket with a men’s button-down, with the top few buttons left open. It’s a classic look that is both sexy and powerful. And that’s sort of the whole point, isn’t it?

3. Sexy heels: Every woman should own a pair of basic, black, pointy-toed heels. The look never goes out of style because it looks good on everyone. Plus, it’s a surefire way to make you feel sexy as hell.

4. Black bra: The final element is a black bra. I don’t want to see any women rocking this outfit with a boring nude bra. I want to see lace, frills—hell, I would even be open to some bedazzling. It’s meant to be a little naughty underneath all that nice.

brandi’s babble

Have more fun than you can handle, but always be the one in control.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Billionaire Saved My Life

L
ike the old saying goes, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Well, I’m fantastic at that game. After a thirteen-year leave of absence, both my vagina and I were returning to the dating world feeling, in a way, reborn (mine was more of a figurative rebirth, while my vagina . . . well, that was
chapter 6
).

In some ways “dating” was an entirely different beast from what it was when I was last single, but in other ways, it was completely the same. The same fundamental rules apply—don’t be too available; don’t be a stalker; and don’t give away the milk for free (unless you don’t care if you see that person again)—but it’s their application that has shifted. I needed to reeducate myself on the ways of the dating world, so here’s what I learned. . . .

As I talked about earlier, social media is the largest indicator of whether someone is available. Since we can easily google just about everyone we meet, we’re quickly able to identify some key facts about him—and usually determine right away whether that person is single. Before, it used to be whether that person had a ring on his finger (or a tan line where it normally is, for the really shady types. #JustSayin) or purposefully starting a conversation with “Well, my wife and I . . .” as a way to clue you in.

Facebook, Twitter, and all the rest have made stalking a potential love interest exponentially easier. It used to be that you would just call his or her house every few hours and hang up before the message machine clicked on, until you finally got through! Who needed to know that you had been calling every hour on the hour? #NotHot. Today, that is (a) totally unnecessary, because you can go on Twitter to find out exactly where that person is at any given moment (and with whom!), and (b) who has a landline with a message machine anymore? If you called that person’s cell phone ten times in a day, he or she would have ten missed calls from you. And that’s just #CrazyTown.

Speaking of cell phones, they have completely changed the rules of communication when dating. It used to be that a person had three days to call you after getting your phone number, and as the recipient, you had to wait at least twenty-four hours before returning the call. Well, I think that logic can be completely thrown out the window. The three-day rule was first invoked because it would cause the person waiting for your call to assume you were busy (out of the house, not near a phone) and not overly eager. While the principle still applies, who today doesn’t have a phone on him or her at all times? I’m sorry, but the “I’ve been too busy to call” excuse just doesn’t work anymore—especially in LA. Everyone sits in traffic, so everyone has time to call.

The twenty-four-hour response is also no longer applicable. If you wait more than a day to respond to someone, it gives the impression you are uninterested (because you most likely are). Today, it’s assumed that you know the very moment someone calls, texts, or e-mails (and certain smartphones can even tell you if your text message or e-mail has been delivered and read). Generally no one is without his or her cell phone for more than three hours, so if you are interested,
I think the three-hour rule is a good place to start.

Also, “sexting” is still sex. Okay, not really, but I think it’s important to point out that if you’re sending dirty text messages or having naughty FaceTime/Skype-time before he or she takes you on at least a second date, it’s still giving away the goods for free. It’s tempting to have a few glasses of wine and to start sending photos of yourself in sexy lingerie, but by all means, resist that temptation. Haven’t we already learned enough lessons from former Disney starlets?

I’ve been back in the dating world now for a little more than three years, and I’ve already made some major mistakes and learned some valuable lessons. Here are a few more rules for getting back in the saddle:

1. Do not have more than two drinks and then expect to make a good decision. If I have learned anything through this journey, it’s that men look much better after two drinks, and they might as well be Mark fucking Wahlberg after three. Everything looks better through wine goggles.

2. Just because he offers to pick you up does not make him a gentleman. How a person acts when he walks you to your front door is what determines whether he is a gentleman. I’ve found that a date will oftentimes offer to pick me up, purely so he can try to attack me as I reach my front door at the end of the night (figuring my bed isn’t that far away).

3. Don’t ever meet at his house. It’s just a ploy—not too thinly veiled. If at all possible, meet your date out—whether it’s at a restaurant, bar, or theater.

4. Always drive yourself. While taking a cab may seem like a good idea, it’s also an easy excuse to have too many cocktails (see rule number 1). Especially if it’s a first date! It will prove an invaluable tool in keeping the notches on your bedpost to a minimum. (If you’re single and living in a relatively big city, I’m sure you’ve already lost count anyway . . . and good for you!) Plus, most people won’t ask you on a second date if you’ve given up the goods on the first date.

5. Never ask someone out over text messaging or social media. If you are on the receiving end of this sort of ask, do not respond. It may be 2013, but if someone wants to ask you out, he should have the balls to call you.

6. If you have children, do not introduce them to every person you date. While this should go without saying, I’ve witnessed countless friends make this major mistake. I have been in a serious relationship with only one person since my divorce (and you’ll soon see how that turned out), and that was the only person I ever thought of allowing to meet my children. Children are vulnerable and get attached quickly. If you’ve already split up from your child’s mother or father, you do not need to bring more people into his or her life who will eventually disappear. Kids get confused with a revolving door of partners. And if you’re bringing a revolving door of partners around your kids, you might be pretty confused yourself.

When it comes to your children, dating new people is a slippery slope. It’s difficult balancing two separate lives, and it’s difficult deciding when is a good time to begin integrating the two. But introducing someone to your kids is a huge step. I have had a ton of microrelationships and one serious one, but I have yet to introduce any man to my boys (besides male friends whom I may or may not fuck, if I get lonely or have too many glasses of wine—but they’re not going anywhere).

Ultimately, dating again reminded me that I was an individual and not the forgotten half of an “almost famous” couple. It allowed me to develop the self-confidence I needed to move past my ex-husband, deal with the pain of our split, and meet someone worthy of my brand-new vagina.

I
t wasn’t about the money.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Three months after Eddie moved out, a friend of a
friend asked me if I would be interested in a blind date. I wasn’t dating yet and was a bit hesitant. She prefaced it with “He’s so not your type, but he’s really smart and you’ll have a good time.” For most people, that would have been an immediate turnoff. I mean, it was the international code for “unattractive”: “He’s got a great personality.”

For me, it was just what I needed—a nonintimidating first date that I wasn’t invested in. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get back on the bike, and the guy, Michael, could serve as a nice pair of training wheels. If she had said, “He’s this hot Latin actor with abs you want to lick honey off of,” I would probably have declined. Instead he was a shorter, older Jewish man who had made his fortune in real estate development.