tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118738942024-02-28T00:48:08.042-08:00And you're reading this because.....?Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1123643778434112502005-08-09T20:15:00.000-07:002005-08-09T20:16:18.440-07:00Do you civic duty...Vote Kaysar!<br /><br />Seriously...he is clearly the only choice. And I want to witness the combustion of Maggie and Ivette's heads exploding when it begins to dawn on them maybe America isn't as enamored of them as they are of them.Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1118116365168989532005-06-06T20:28:00.000-07:002005-06-06T20:57:23.300-07:00Smoke free and officially hate Tom Cruise.I am in California on a business trip...my first trip out here in easily 20 or so years. My first trip was as a wide eye'd 18 year old thisclose to the Mexican border. At that point, I was up for anything. Now...I fear for my safety on roads that, at 2 p.m. in the afternoon, scare the shit out of me! Holy shit have I become a middle aged worry wart.<br /><br />There are a lot of times I really wonder why I bother with therapy anymore. I know I'm just as fucked up about things as the next person. I know I have issues with my mother, my father, my body image, refried beans, (they are a practical joke food I'm convinced someone ate on a dare and just perpetuated the joke. Come ON! Refried beans have already been eaten by a heard of ferrel cats. It's regurgitated food, people!) obsessed with the Brady Bunch...I clearly have many issues. Had plenty of these issues for a long time, and I realize them and sometimes I have a hold of them and sometimes I don't. I'm seriously OK with that.<br /><br />What I am NOT ok with is America's 'golden boy' spouting off and attacking Brooke Shields and anyone else who has taken medication to get through depression or any other mental illness. Tom Cruise, let me be the first to say 'Who the FUCK do you think you are, you irresponsible, ignorant prick?' First of all...I saw you on Oprah...you really should be the first one inline for the Ritalyn bus, you sanctimonious asshole. While most of us can only dream of living a life the caliber of yours, (material wise, you got it goin on...and it doesn't hurt that you clearly hit the genetic equivalent of the Powerball) and I am going out on a limb and guessing that your bouts of depression have more to do with 'They shot me from X angle and I didn't look right in X blockbuster for 8 milliseconds' or 'My race car didn't got past the speed of sound on that turn when I was out playing....' Have you seriously even studied the word depression in the dictionary? Oh wait...your dyslexic. Maybe Katie should read it for you, since you struggle with such a heavy burden. What was I thinking? This is a man who clearly knows agony on the dark side.<br /><br />Look, Tom...until the day you squirt out a kid and have your hormones run a coup 'd'etat on your brain...until you have to work 2 and three jobs to make ends meet and the stress pushes you to the breaking point because just keeping yourself and your children in a home takes everything out of you and there's absolutely nothing left at the end of the day for your own recharge...until you are raised being told you'll never be as good as 'fillintheblankwithrelative/friend/neighbor' by someone who brought you into this world and you are scarred beyond belief...until you have to overcome the hurdle of living through abuse...until you convince at least three of your brain cells to communicate with one another on a regular basis...you should shut the fuck up about things you know NOTHING about. You clearly have no idea what you are talking about on this subject, and you taking your position as a public figure to such irresponsible extremes as to dismiss years of proven medical experts research and knowledge because it conflicts with your 'religion,' only goes to illustrate that you are facing some kind of midlife crisis from hell and you need to pipe the hell down about subjects that affect people life and health.<br /><br />Maybe it's because I'm still marginally cranky because it's been two months today since I kicked the habit...maybe it's because I never thought Tom was all that hunky... (give me Ray Liotta ANY day of the week!)...maybe it's because I have used anti-depressants successfully under the care and advice of my previous physicians...maybe it's just because I HATE scientologists who can't keep their mouths' shut (ya know...religion is fine as long as you keep it in the vein of 'my right to swing my fist ends where your nose begins. isn't religion about one's PERSONAL relationship with God? Don't bug me about your beliefs, and I won't bore you with mine...deal?)...but whatever...unless his characters suffer a brutal death, I am going to boycott any Tom movies...since I'm gonna be saving my money to buy Prozac and Paxil.<br /><br />Fuck off, Tom Cruise!Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114802870041852302005-04-29T12:15:00.000-07:002005-04-29T19:58:27.796-07:00Days, 12...Body Count...0For 12 days, I cannot believe I have managed to remain smoke free! A 20 year, pack (and a little more on occasion) smoker, this has been no small feat, believe me. I have had other 'mini-quits' in the past, but 12 days with nary a puff....It's truly remarkable.<br /><br />Now, lest you get the idea I am one of those fire-and-brimstone health nut smokers...NO...certainly not the case. My exercise regimen is vigorous when I go up and down the stairs twice because I am bringing groceries in. I got tired of the 'work' that smoking is. Having to make sure you've got ones available for the one pack buy...scraping together your quarters for the $3.50 you need when you don't have ones...standing outside in sub zero weather to get the fix...I guess I just got too lazy to smoke.<br /><br />But, as crazy as it sounds...I really miss the act of smoking. I miss the 5 minute respite where all you do is think about the smoke. I miss the cool rush of menthol. I miss having something there 'only for me.' When I wanted a cigarette, they were there. And if I couldn't get to it right away, by God they were waiting for me. That kind of consistency is something smokers like to cling to, I would guess. I know I sure did.<br /><br />But dear GOD it is hard. As difficult as former smokers tell you it's going to be, you begin to wish it was that easy. Day one is just surreal. You feel like you are missing an arm or something. It just feels like something is not right in your world. If you quit in the morning...by the end of the day, you have a splitting headache, and you start to feel a little 'edgy.'<br /><br />Day two is by far the worst. AT this point, your body has been deprived of something it has had on demand for, in my case, 20 years. And your body is seriously pissed off. And your mind begins to play tricks on you, and your hormones begin to do a coup d' etat on your brain. Your moods go from right to left...up and down...backwards and forwards. You just have no sense of who you are...you aren't a smoker...and you still smell like one so the non-smokers don't wanna claim you...and you can't possibly explain to anyone what it feels like...all the while you just want a couple of puffs to take the edge off. You are distracted. Your brain just does not work. Period. You do however know that your opinion of murder might have been a bit harsh, and you can fully know the meaning behind 'justifiable homicide.'<br /><br />And you end up getting angrier when you realize that you have done this to yourself. <br /><br />You also begin to notice that you are getting the 'munchies' much more than you used to. Having 'quit' several times before, I was prepared for this. I am going through suckers like Paula Abdul through AI finalists, and I am NOT prepared for weight gain, I can tell ya. Sugarless Gum I have developed quite an affinity for (Altoids Sour Cherry gum is my personal favorite), and sugar free hard candies are now cluttering up my handbag. Great...no lung cancer...but I'll be diabetic!<br /><br />Another nice little aside is that the withdrawel process has heightened my already fully charged cynicism. I find my temper is shorter, and my patience is non-existent. I shudder to think of the opinion of the insurance people who have had to deal with me as I try to get them to explain the rational behind NOT covering one kind of medication for two months as I ride out the rollercoaster of addiction...but they will cover it if I'm just garden variety depressed. They will provide me with sleeping pills to combat the raging insomnia that quitting throws you into...which is nice, because THAT I can overdose on, and it's highly addictive. But nice to know they want me to have a good night's sleep!<br /><br />I am wondering why I put myself through this. I can smoke and smoke, and I probably wouldn't notice any seriously bad health effects for quite a while. I'd have a part of my identity back. Maybe I wouldn't have to take the time to actually figure out my problems instead of taking a smoke break.<br /><br />But then I look at things like the money I am saving. That my mother said I inspired her and she might quit smoking, possibly to live a few years longer. That the man I love and who has been an unwitting target for all my misplaced venom and rage might actually not have to nurse me as I sicken from God knows what diseases I would have been at risk for. That I will have more control over my life than the 20 cigarettes that used to be my constant companion.<br />And I tell myself I only have to make it through not smoking today. That makes it a little more bearable.<br /><br />I would ask that, if you know someone who is trying to quit, or who is on the verge of it, by all means, please be patient and understanding of them. Know that there are things happening internally that they are trying to control, but just can't. That it will pass, and they will regret their tantrums and what they have done to themselves. That your friendship and understanding is appreciated more than you know.<br /><br />And that they will gladly kill any of your enemies for a cigarette.Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114011183427631602005-04-20T08:32:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:33:03.426-07:00A little background is in order...Before you settle in to read my dating manifesto, a little intro is in order. I have, shall we say, a knack for pickin some crazy men to go out with. Granted, they generally don't come off that way initially, but, in my past, the trial and error ratio was phenominal. So much so that I tired to retelling the tales. I was urged to write them down, and thus, the following six posts were my experiences that I decided to write down for posterity's sake, as well as the fact they were actually pretty damned funny.<br /><br />Now, as for me, I am a 38 year old woman as of this writing who has been divorced for 5 years, in love for sure twice, and one 'in love' that now looks more like post-dirovce rebound 'Thank GOD you aren't my ex-husband' love. I will use this blog to now take the place of what my old website used to.<br /><br />I have reposted the articles in their entirety, and would love to hear anyone's comments on them.Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114011077244008382005-04-20T08:28:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:37:40.960-07:00I Was Looking for my Soulmate While Walking on a Moonlit beach.<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" ><br />I know it’s going to shock some of you, but I am going to admit something: I was a weird kid.</span> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >(The hush that has fallen over the crowd at this news is deafening).</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Not sure if it’s genetics, (my ancestors DID leave Switzerland for this country. SWITZERLAND! </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >What the hell is there to escape from in a country that is decidedly neutral about everything, has </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >great scenery, and is the world renowned for it’s production for most of nature’s most perfect of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >foods: cheese!) nurturing (My first day of high school, the same school that graduated both my </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >parents, I was asked by one of my teachers: ‘Are you the juvenile delinquent’s daughter.’ A man </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >who can sustain that kind of moniker through two decades of complete absence leaves quite an </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >impression and helped to mold my young mind!), or just me being weird. (I turn off my phone to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >watch Grease 2 for God’s sake!) Whatever it is, I’ve always been known for my individuality and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >creativity. (That’s how weirdo’s always describe themselves, BTW.)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I admit, my personals tend to be, well, a bit different. I am often asked how I go about writing </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >them. I don’t set out to craft the finest work of our time, mind you. I just figure I’d better convey </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >as good a sense as I can of who I am and what I am compatible with. And, I have NEVER, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >EVER, been one would could not use 50 words when 10 would be just as effective.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I was having a very cerebral discussion with one of my male friends (the eternal ‘Less Filling, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Tastes Great debate), when we happened on the subject of personals. He has one up (in fact, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >that’s how we met. I look at him as my wonder twin, although my respect for his ability to create </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >tapestries of beauty with his creative use of profanity would leave Van Gough fearing for his job. I </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >can only come up with new ways to use the F word on occasion. He is my Sen-say of the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >profane), and we both agreed that there are personals out there that read as if the author spent </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >an afternoon at a Hallmark shop.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >However, one of the things that I have not only noticed but has been discussed among other men</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > and women I’ve met through online services such as Match, is frighteningly vague similarities in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >what someone is looking for. Or specifications so constricting that they apply to 3 people in the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >known universe, and finding those 3 means a stroke of cosmic luck that involves planetary </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >alignment and celestial intervention. (Alien abduction sounds far more likely). </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >It is in this spirit of hoping everyone can find love and friendship successfully that I have compiled</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > observations and suggestions taken from many discussions with other Match members on what </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >they think makes a great personal, and how to make sure you get responses from people you </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >may actually enjoy getting to know. (Or at least don’t seem Yeti-like in their appeal!)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >These are the 10 considerations/rules one must keep in mind when in constructing one’s </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >personal. These aren’t meant to refer to anyone’s personal in particular. However, these elements</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > have been cited as continual offenses that should be dealt with and hopefully eradicated from the</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > online romantic landscape.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >1.) First rule: Guys: the girls DO talk to one another. Now, I know the men don’t tend to trade </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >notes via email or chatting, but I guarantee you: If you’ve gone out with more than one woman on </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >a service chances are notes were compared on you and your ad’s ability to portray you. This is </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >not meant to scare you, but be aware that, if you are going to attempt something tasteless or </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >rude when you have written the phrase ‘I love to treat my woman like a lady,’ rest assured word of</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > it will spread so quickly your E-love-life will be snuffed out like a Ho-Ho at a fat farm!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >2.) For God’s Sake, put up a recent photo of yourself! This is apparently more of a problem for </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >men seeking women, who are taken in by this intelligent, attractive creature, only to be frightened</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > into celibacy because the woman they were expecting (youthful, vital, thin) is 180% different </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >than the one who shows up (Bad dye job, many years of hard living etched in her face, an ass in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >desperate need of a ‘Wide Load’ sign, and and a T-shirt reading ‘I go from 0 – Horny in 2.3 </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >beers!). This is much more common than you realize. Granted, ladies, our society does prize </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >youth and beauty, (I’m not condoning it, just stating the facts. Little do they know how many </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >women actually achieve that state of pencil-thinness by puking 10 seconds after they eat!) If you </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >are going to be dishonest about something so obvious that the deception is uncovered before you</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > utter a word, don’t we need to reread our copy of ‘I’m OK, You’re OK’ again? Don’t fake it when </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >you know you aren’t going to live up to the prince or princess you construct via email. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >3.) Speaking of photos: Drivers License photos or those taken from a web cam at ones </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >computer are extremely risky. I know my DL pic was NOT my best day, and I know about 4 </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >people on the planet who have great pics like these. Web Cam photos: They generally are a bad </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >angle, bad lighting, and can often show things you don’t realize are in the background (Some I’ve </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >seen included underwear on lamps, grandfathers in deep sleep or dead, and one idiot actually </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >showed his very obvious wedding portrait on the wall in the background! God, I pray he has been </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >sterilized to prevent his seed from tainting the gene pool!) And it’s always obvious when you use </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >these…so just beware it can backfire on you.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >4.) I am starting a grass-roots movement to ban the following phrases from further use in all </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >personals:<br /></span> <ul style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;"> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >"</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I am looking for my soul mate.’ </span></li> </ul> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"> <ul> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘Someone who looks as good in jeans as he/she does dressed for a night on the town’</span></li> </ul> </div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"> <ul> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘Someone who enjoys quiet evenings at home or who can live it up on the town.’</span></li> </ul> </div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"> <ul> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘I love to cuddle by the fire with a glass of wine’</span></li> </ul> </div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"> <ul> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘I’ve left my baggage where it belongs.’ (News FLASH: We ALL have baggage…it’s just </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >how we use it and where we take it.)</span></li> </ul> </div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"> <ul> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘Looking for someone to be my lover and best friend.’</span></li> </ul> </div> <div align="left"> <ul style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;"> <li><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘I love moonlit walks on the beach.’ (This either means you are reading a Harlequin in an </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >attempt to the female psyche, or you find it easiest to take your dates on a long walk in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >the dark near a large body of water for the ease it provides in body disposal!)</span></li> </ul> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:130%;" ><br /></span> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Why ban these phrases, you ask? Mainly because that’s what EVERYONE looking </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >for love wants. Sure, it sounds all kinds of sincere and romantic…but it also sounds </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >like you have been reading ‘How to Write a Personal in 10 easy steps.’ It’s NOT </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >original, it DOESN’T sound sincere, and it’s OLD! I mean, like Gag Me With a Spoon </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >old.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >5.) Two words: Spell Check<br /><br /></span> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >6.) Two more words: CAPS OFF!!!!!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >7.) Parents: We love that you take pride in your role as a parent. But please think twice about </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >posting a picture of you with your child on a public site such as this. It is too risky in this day and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >age to give predators any more info than they need about children </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >8.) If someone puts something down in his or her ‘desirable’ criteria, PLEASE RESPECT IT!!! I </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >have a rule that, if it’s blatantly obvious someone hasn’t read my ad, I won’t bother getting to know</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > him. (Like NOT HAVING A DAMNED PHOTO WHEN IT SAYS I REQUIRE ONE. This also goes </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >for if your photo hasn’t been posted yet…you still don’t have one! Do we need to get you enrolled </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >in a Sylvan Learning Center, Corky?) If they can’t pay attention to me before we’ve become </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >acquainted, the possibility of them doing so later is ‘nil. For instance, if you’re not athletic, don’t </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >reply to someone who wants someone with an athletic build. Two main reasons 1.) You are most </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >likely setting yourself up for rejection from the start, and 2.) Don’t try to be something you aren’t. It</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > just never works. And, if you think that the deception of your physical appearance will be </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >outweighed by your sparkling personality once said object meets you in person after having gotten</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > to know you over several emails and phone conversations, you are smoking a brand of crack so </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >pure Ivory Soap seems filthy by comparison. It generally results only in said object being </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >extremely pissed off and that probably isn’t what you were going for in the first place. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >9.) Unless you have a particular fondness for everyone and their dog knowing your phone number,</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > or want to possibly be exposed to a phone phreaker…do NOT give it out on the first email. Aside </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >from the fact it’s just pathologically stupid to send your phone number to someone you haven’t </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >even spoken to yet, I have talked to several people who think it’s just plain lazy to include a phone</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > number because ‘I hate to type.’ Ohhh kaaayyyy…then what in the hell are you doing looking for </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >people on the INTERNET! You have to TYPE! Sorry, but that phrase generally tags you as an idiot</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > from the word go…and there is very little chance to redeem yourself after that. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >10.) The use of the word ‘Lonely’ immediately brands you as completely void of social skills and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >does absolutely nothing to set the opposite sex ablaze with desire for you. If you’re so lonely you </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >have to publicize that to the world, I would strongly suggest getting a pet. There are many fine </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >animals that can appreciate your companionship that are in need of adoption. Using ‘Lonely’ </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >generally gets translated into the fact you have no drive or ambition to create your own life and you</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > will suck the existence out of any potential companion you cross paths with. Worse still is that </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >your lonely existence will mean getting rid of you will be more difficult than finding Bin Laden.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >There are several unwritten rules for writing the perfect cyber construct of yourself, and no one can</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > honestly say they expect to learn everything there is to know about you in a few paragraphs and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >photos. Your profile is simply meant to be a stepping-stone, not the Golden Gate Bridge. And, it </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >should serve to tantalize as to what you have to offer. If it puts the others to sleep or has them </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >calling 531-TIPS, you probably should go back to the drawing board.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Now, on the flip side of the coin, realize too that some people simple don’t see the need to get </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >artistic and fancy when posting their stats on the love cyber-connection. And some people don’t </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >translate the same way on person as they do in an ad. I’ve met men who wrote me pages and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >pages of eloquent, witty prose, and get them in person and the most intelligent thing to come out </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >of their mouth in person was ‘Do you have PBR on tap?’</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Conversely, I’ve met men who couldn’t write their way out of a wet wad of toilet paper, but in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >person made me laugh ‘til I cried, and who could hold amazingly intelligent conversations. The </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >general rule of thumb still applies: You can’t judge a book by its cover. (Or at least it’s lack of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >grammatical talent) </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Overall, it works best when you are honest about who you are, who you want, and what you are </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >seeking. Celebrate your unique qualities and realize that someone out there, either in the cyber or</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > real world, will find them intensely fascinating without you having to throw a hard sell on them or </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >bury the truth of it in worn out phrases and a great photo of you taken 10 years ago.</span></div> <div align="left"><br /></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:85%;" >Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go take a moonlit walk on the beach.</span></div> </div> </div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114009898703893242005-04-20T08:11:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:19:15.336-07:00The Best of the Worst<div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >One would think, given previous writings, that I would be an authority of what it takes to make a </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >bad date.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >While I would love to be considered the foremost authority on something in this world, that I am </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >not. One person’s bad date can be a rockin’ good time to someone else. I will admit to being </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >thrust into more than what would seem an unusually high number of bad dates for a woman who </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >isn't nursing an abnormally large number of self-loathing thoughts. But I’ve also had some dates </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >that I didn’t consider to be too bad but would have other women running for a battalion of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >therapists.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Case in point, my last date with Wade.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I dated Wade for about a year in the late 80’s. Wade was introduced to me to me by a mutual </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >friend. He was one HELLUVA fun person! He had a great pedigree, was fast-tracking into a </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >promising career in finance, and was one of the most socially skilled people I have or ever will </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >meet. You could plunk yourself in the middle of the Sahara, and I would bet you a hundred bucks</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > you’d come across a nomad who would say ‘You know WADE? How’s he doing.’ The man was</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > undoubtedly the genesis of the 6 degrees of separation theory.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >But it wasn’t without good reason. Wade was a helluva fun person. We always had a great time.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > My parents loved him, friends loved him…but he never eeked out of ‘The Guy I’m Dating Zone.’ I</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > just couldn’t muster anything more than a ‘He’s a great guy’ feeling. I knew he was A great guy,</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > but not MY great guy.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Nonetheless, we had enough mutual merriment that we dated exclusively. And neither one of us </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >had any designs on making the other the permanent day to our night. Try as I might, I just </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >couldn’t ever position him as anything other than ‘The guy I’m dating.’ He was never ‘my </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >boyfriend,’ my ‘special someone’…hell, on gift occasions, I believe we got each other a card…but</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > did manage to trade assorted chocolates on Christmas. No wait…he gave me a box of steaks. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Nothin says ‘I have no plans for you in my long term future’ than a box of choice cuts of dead cow</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > flesh.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >As we settled into our comfortable routine, we decided one evening to fix up two of our single </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >friends and double. My pick for the evening was my dear friend Rachel. Rachel was one of the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >most ‘together’ people I have ever been privileged to call my friend. She was a few years younger</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > than I, but MAN did that girl have her shit together. And she had a smile that would light up a </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >room. The only thing I can say negatively about her is the bitch quit working at the dairy store </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >too soon, and thus prematurely cut off my free ice cream fix. Selfish Ho!</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Don’t even ask me who Wade brought, because my only memory of him was that he had brown </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >hair and sat up straight. And that’s about as much as will be written about him.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >The date seemed to go well, but I noticed that Wade and Rachel spent a lot of the evening </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >engaged in conversation. I, of course, provided plenty of witty quips now and then, but clearly, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >these two were monopolizing me and brown haired sitting up straight guy’s date time.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >The evening ended with Wade taking me home, then asking me a very odd, end of date question. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > ‘Hey, would you mind if I asked Rachel out? She’s a really great gal.’</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >WHAT…But Wade…what about our relationship…all we‘ve been through…how we have a bond </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >that only steak can convey? At least he lived and died by the principle ‘Ya never know unless </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >you ask.’ And, as tepid water ran hotter than my passion for Wade, I wasn’t the least bit </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >offended by his question.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >‘Wade, that’s fine…but you have to understand something; if you call her tomorrow and ask her, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >she will hang up on you . Girlfriends don’t do that to another girl’s ‘guy I’m dating.’ So let me tell</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > her you would like to ask her out and that I’m OK with it. At least you won’t get shot down </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >immediately.’</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >And then I thought ‘Am I really offering to fix up my friend with the guy I’m dating? This is NOT </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >the way to ever get married,’ my 21 year-old mind said to itself. <br /><br /></span> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Nonetheless, I thought it might not be such a bad idea. Rachel had a patience unseen in many </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >people, and it would probably be a necessity for dealing with Wade. And they both had a quiet </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >dignity that just seemed to match. She also possessed a class-blind attitude that could navigate </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Wade’s upper-crust pedigree in a way I could never find a comfort zone in.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I called Rachel the next day. Poor brown haired guy who could sit up straight wasn’t mentioned, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >but I did tell Rachel that Wade would really like to ask her out and that if she wanted to accept, I </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >was absolutely fine with that. She seemed a little perplexed, and I actually began running down </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Wade’s good points to her. I was actively pawning off the guy I was dating! It was probably the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >cleanest, non-break-up breakup I would ever orchestrate! Rachel seemed to think it wouldn’t be a </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >bad idea, as long as it wouldn’t interfere with her and my relationship. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Not a chance! You don’t let little things like a guy your dating get in the way of your true </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >friendships.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I called Wade with the good news…and he was absolutely giddy! I mean, now…the guy I’m dating </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >is asking me how to impress her on their first date. AND I’M GIVING HIM POINTERS! I do believe </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >the sound barrier was broken that night with the speed we transitioned from mutual daters to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >legitimate friend zone! What was worse…I was actually hoping Rachel would like him! Isn’t the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >object of dating someone supposed to be that you hope THEY want to impress you, and not your </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >friends?</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >But, the big day arrived. Wade called me about 5 times that day to go over details. Man, he was </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >unlike the Wade I knew as the guy I was/had been dating. This was a romantic fool. And I can </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >damned sure betcha he wasn’t making a trip to the butcher’s aisle prior to their date!</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Zero hour had come and gone. At two a.m., a frantic knocking at my door awoke me from my </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >slumber. It was Wade in a panic. The date had gone horribly awry, he felt, and he wanted to go </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >over details and have me do damage control. I was in a stupor. One, because I was half asleep, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >and two, because I was seeing a side of Wade I had no idea existed. He was a man genuinely </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >interested in a woman and was feeling vulnerable. I don’t think I ever found him quite so endearing, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >and I only wanted to help him.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >The next day, I casually phone Rachel for her take on the date, which, was nothing compared to the</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > train wreck Wade had presented. Rachel even wanted to see him again. I was a bit perplexed as I</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > wondered how two people on the same date could possibly have had such a different experience.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Rachel and Wade dated for several years, and they tried in vain to duplicate my success in </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >matchmaking towards my love goals, but fell drastically short of the mark. But we all managed to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >maintain our deep friendships and watching their relationship grow and prosper was a true joy to be </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >around. They provided me with many good times, and the source of their introduction was always a</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > favorite topic to bring up at many of Wade and Rachel’s now infamous parties in their pre-marital </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Westport home.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >The week before he proposed to Rachel, Wade called me to tell me of his plan. He also wanted to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >thank me for bringing her into his life. ‘You know, Rachel is the kind of woman I always hoped was </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >out there, but didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to find.’ I laughed, not so much because of the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Hallmark-esque nature of his sentiment, but the weekend before during a Christmas shopping trip, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Rachel had said almost the exact same thing. It brought tears to my eyes hearing that from Wade.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > In a world that grows more cynical and jaded as I get older, there was a simplicity to their feelings </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >that made me realize that sometimes the simplest things in life can recharge your faith-based </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >batteries as to what can be possible.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Their inevitable nuptials remains one of the most joyous occasions I have ever been allowed to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >witness, as well as be a party of. I was privileged to be a member of the wedding party .(Jeeze, had</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > it not been for me, they never woulda met! I sure as hell hoped they’d dress me up like a Barbie </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >doll and have me hold some flowers for God’s sake!) They are still married and have two of the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >most adorable boys I have ever seen. Rachel and Wade, in short, are the kind of couple most </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >people, myself included, dream of being a part of.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I don’t want to give the impression that two genetically and mentally superior people had crossed </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >one another’s path, which often seems the case when one speaks of ‘perfect couples.‘ I should also</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > mention that neither Wade nor Rachel will ever win a prize as the most generous or kind human </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >being to ever walk the planet. Neither is going to be a finalist on ‘Are you Hot?’ They are normal, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >average people, fraught with the same flaws, insecurities, and foibles as the rest of us. Their unique</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > quality is they found a mutual affinity that seems to escape the rest of us. They knew that they </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >weren’t going to find a ‘perfect’ partner, but a partner perfect for them. In short, their perfection lies </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >solely in how they compliment one another.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >But how did they get so lucky while the rest of us yahoos are out stumbling along the pathway of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >love, generally falling on our asses. I think it’s a simple matter of the fact they weren’t looking when</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > they found each other, but they knew what they wanted and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Wade</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > and I dated for a fairly good period of time, yet he and I both knew we weren’t the other’s heart and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >desire. To that end, Wade was always responsible in his display of affection for me. He never once</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > lead me to believe we were or could be anything more than we were…the guy/girl I’m dating. We </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >just liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Rachel, on the other hand, was just not looking to meet the love of her life. She had just started </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >college and was extremely focused on getting her life in order. She didn’t have time for the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >impracticalities of love or the distraction. That’s a lethal combination when you combine it with a </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >man who knows what he wants and you are it. She never had a chance once Wade knew she was </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >the one.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Being able to be a spectator in the full process of love as I was with them gave me a perspective </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >that I hope I can maintain. Although Wade and I had a ‘relationship’ before Rachel ever crossed his </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >path, I never experience one iota of jealousy. Being around them or hearing one speak of the other </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >gave me a sense of happiness that comes when things are just ‘right,’ even though it doesn’t </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >directly involve you. Everything that I know or feel about love I largely witnessed because of the </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >privilege of their friendship and generosity. It’s a special gift to learn about something of life from </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >those who don’t even know they are your teacher.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >So, to this end, I would have to say that I can only hope I am lucky enough to find that someday. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. I can tell you that it’s because of them I have to remind myself not </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >to settle for less than my heart’s desire, whoever that may be. (I still think it’s Ray Liotta, but he </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >hasn’t returned my calls, making it a very difficult process to begin our lifelong love affair) But I find </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >it very reassuring, in this day and age of micro-dating, hits and misses, and jaded recollections of </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >ones that thankfully got away, that I know true, deep, undying love exists. I may not have </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >experienced that for myself yet, but to be in the presence of two fallible people like myself almost </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >15 years after they met and they still are as perfect a match as peanut butter and chocolate. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Believe me when I tell you, to see these two people together, you see that love is alive and well and</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > living right where you’d least expect it.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >Other folks might have considered fixing up your current dating partner with your friend at your </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >dating partner’s request a horrid date. But when you are in a position to witness true love taking </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >root, as I did with Rachel and Wade, you don’t mind in the least to step back, add a little water, and</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" > wait patiently for your day in the sun.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><br /></div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114009838315593692005-04-20T08:09:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:25:26.206-07:00Porn-NO!<div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >There are times in your life when you cannot possibly say no. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >As a teenage girl, my mother oft encouraged me to say no in the event any male not</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > related to me and under the age of 50 came within a 10 foot radius of me. So </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >saying no was ingrained in me at a very early age and stuck around for quite a while.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > (Until I joined the Columbia record and tape club and it went straight to hell from </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >there.)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >You have to know what I mean…the shopping trip at the end of the month with a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >really good clearance sale and $50 in the bank, crème brulee when you are stuffed </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >to the gils but it’s wheeled out right in front of you, and when former gay porn star </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >asks you out to lunch. I defy anyone to turn down THAT invite!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Now, let me tell you that I had no prior firsthand knowledge of his work, and his porn </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >days were almost a decade behind him during that fateful August afternoon. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Nonetheless, I made Bruce’s acquaintance and was subsequently invited to lunch. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > Bruce was, on first impressions, a very nice person. He grew up on the Kansas </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Side, moved out west for a while, and had recently moved back to the area. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >The day before our lunch date, he contacted me and told me I needed to know </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >something about him, and he gave me a name to search on with instructions to wait </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >until I returned home to search for it, and that it would not be wise for me to attempt </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >this ‘on my work computer.’ The anticipation was way more than my impatient </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >nature would allow, but was eclipsed by my desire for maintaining gainful </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >employment. So I waited.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Breaking the sound barrier to get home, I logged onto my favorite search engine and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >did a search on Brock Hard. The first thing that popped up was ‘Butt Pirates of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Penzance’ starring Brock Hard. Following that was a litany of the worst Gay Porn </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >titles you can possibly imagine. I was absolutely astounded. Why would Bruce, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >this seemingly intelligent, kind and soft-spoken man have me search for gay porn? </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >In order to quell the swirling confusion, I called my friend Greg, who for </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >unnecessary-to-mention lifestyle reasons would naturally know about Gay Porn. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Dude…have you ever heard of a guy named Brock Hard?’</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Honey, of course I have. My question is why have you,’ Greg asked me with </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >bewilderment his normally jaded nature would have contained.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >I explained that it was a distinct possibility that my lunch date the next day and this </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >master of the gluts (and not in a work-out kinda way) were indeed one in the same. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >We did the only thing we could think would clear up the mystery: We watched one </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >of the tapes in Greg’s library.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >5 minutes and the box cover photos were all I needed. Mainly because ‘Brock’ had </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >a very large, distinctive tattoo on his chest…one that was similar to the description </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Bruce had given me as well. He had gained some weight in his post-porn years and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >cut his mullet to a respectable length, but there was no mistaking that I would be </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >lunching with the former Brock Hard in a mere 14 hours.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >As freakish as I found this other life of his, it was a date I HAD to go on. I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >mean..,come ON people…you KNOW you would’ve gone too. I had just had a date </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >with a physics professor a few nights before, and was meeting a real estate </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >developer for drinks over the weekend. Oh, MAN would this be a week for the books!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >So I called Bruce and said that lunch was still on. We agreed on time and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >place…but unfortunately, I didn’t pay much attention to the ensuing conversation, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >because the only sound in my head was the steady beat of porn music: Bomb chick</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > -a-wow-wow, a chicka wow WOW. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >That whole morning, work was so difficult to concentrate on. I realize there are </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >things in my past that I’m not particularly proud of, perhaps capped by that pathetic </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >period 20 years ago where I insisted on wearing FlashDance-inspired ripped </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >sweatshirts with a body that resembled a Stay-Puft Marshmallow (Wo) Man. (While </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >most teenage girls aspire for a pair of great boobs, I longed for a waist.) We all have </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >a few skeletons in our closet that may be held against us in the future, ya know. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">But the anticipation was still at a fever pitch and I kept an open mind.</span><br /><br /></span> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Zero hour had come. I arrived at the restaurant, and there was Bruce. Not too shabby, but a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >far cry from his buff porn days. It appeared as though he had fully embraced the magic of pie </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >since baring it all. He informed me we would need to sit away from people as his hearing aids</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > (that’s right…plural) weren’t working very well and he would need to keep away from </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >distractions to have a conversation.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >A former gay porn star with a double hearing impairment. At least I was confident in the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >knowledge that the ‘Bomb chick -a-wow-wow, a chicka wow WOW,’ that seemed to boom in </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >my head probably wouldn’t be noticed by him, because it felt like a KISS concert was being </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >performed in my skull it was so deafening.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Bomb chick -a-wow-wow, a chicka wow WOW</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Bruce started off the conversation with ‘I’m really surprised you had lunch with me. Most </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >women freak out when they know what I’ve done.’ I’m thinking that, if ya kept that little secret</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > to yourself, it wouldn’t be a problem, since I know of no single women who maintain a fresh </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >rotation of gay porn in their video library. Nonetheless, he had shed his blue past and wanted </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >to make sure it didn’t come up later to bite him in the ass. (Much as I believe Gluteus </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Maximus had in the snippets of ‘Manhandlers IV’ that I had seen at Greg’s the night before.)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >He then proceeded to tell me of a particularly troubled teenage hood, and some uncertainty </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >as to sexual preferences combined with a lack of high school diploma, which led him to Gay </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Porn. For someone who wasn’t particularly proud of his past, he made me feel like Barbara </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Walters on Oscar night. All I was missing was my own speech impediment and soft lighting.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘So Bruce, how did you end up working at XYZ Corporation?’ I said in my fervent attempt to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >disengage him from telling me more than I ever needed to know about the porn industry.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘A friend of my mom’s who didn’t mind that I was in porn and got me the job.’ I began to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >wonder if there was a way I could collect $1 for every time he said porn, because it was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >becoming abundantly clear that he wanted to purge his soul as much as possible on his brief </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >career in the adult film industry.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Bomb chick -a-wow-wow, a chicka wow WOW</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Our salads came, which was good, because by this time I was really, really hoping this date </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >would end. I was growing quickly tired of his continual attempts to steer every part of the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >conversation towards porn. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Did you see the Chiefs in pre-season, Bruce?’ ‘Yeah…they wear red jersey’s, don’t they? I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >wore a red thong in ‘Halloween-ie 5’</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Are you going to watch the Survivor finale?’ ‘Yeah, probably, since I’m a survivor of the porn </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >industry, I can relate.’</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Bruce, can you talk about anything other than porn?’ ‘Well, I could, but I was in porn, and I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >know a lot about porn.’ </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Aside from the continual attempts to make sure I knew he was being honest about his past, I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >couldn’t enjoy my salad because they had put the wrong dressing on it. Frankly, the wrong </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >dressing was quickly becoming the hi-light of the meal. Bruce asked why I wasn’t eating my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >salad, and I just mentioned that I didn’t particularly care for the dressing, but it wasn’t a big </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >deal. The truth was, I wanted to get the Sam Hill outta Dodge before I found out about the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >between-take shenanigans of the porn industry., which I was perilously close to being the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >passenger to in this train-wreck of a conversation. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >The remainder of the hour can best be summed up by the following: Ya know, they feed us </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >on porn sets. I invested my porn money wisely. Porn, porn, porn, and more porn.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >The waiter came by and asked how everything was. I was so grateful to have a sentence </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >uttered NOT containing the word ‘porn,‘ I think I appeared overeager in my simple response </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >‘Yes, fine.’ I know I must have had the pleading eyes of a baby robin as it looks to the mother</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > for a bit of nourishing worm as a waiter only known as Tom gave me the one bit of viable </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >verbal sustenance I received in that excruciating hour. Looking back, listening to Bruce drone</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > on and on made me long for the sweet comfort of a dentist’s chair and a mouth full of sharp </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >metal instruments: far less painful and often accompanied by drugs.<br /><br /></span> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >I can’t decide if it was my small little white lie about the quality of the salad or just my final </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >attempt to utter a sentence not conducive to talk of porn, but Bruce grew decidedly agitated </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >after my Lie of the Salad. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Already firm in the knowledge that there would be no second date with Bruce, I prepared my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >standard ‘Thanks for lunch, I appreciated meeting you and wish you luck in finding someone </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >special,’ exit line, when Bruce beat me to the punch: ‘You know, honesty is too important for </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >me, and I just really can’t get myself involved with someone who would willingly lie like that.’ </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >I know I made that ‘Dog-hearing-a-high-pitched-noise’ face we all do when confronted with just</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" > butt-stupid statements. ‘Excuse me?’</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >He launched into a rather heated tirade about the merits of honesty and seeing me lie so </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >blatantly about my salad made him wonder what else I would be willing to lie about. I’m </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >standing there increasingly dumbfounded that Bruce was giving me the what for about </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >honesty and forthrightness. Yeah, well, buddy, I can guaran-dam-tee you no one can ever </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >find me performing sex acts banned in 40 states on VHS, ya freaky Ass Clown!</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >I was fuming on my way back to the office. Who in the HELL was this wisenheimer to tell </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >ME I was of lower caliber than he was? Dammit, I give to charity! I always buy candy from </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >those people on the traffic islands who are trying to stay off drugs! Don’t even get me </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >STARTED on all the shitty looking bridesmaids dresses I’ve worn in my lifetime as I’ve </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >watched my dearest friends ride off into the sunset of marital bliss: I’m a veritable Milk Maid </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >of freakin Human Kindness!</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Although he was right, I hadn’t been honest, even if he was fairly anal in his pursuit of an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >honest partner. (Oh, please: I’m not allowed to use one rear-ended pun in this story?) It </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >dawned on me what his point really was: He needed an opportunity to reject me before I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >could reject him. He was obviously very used to it by those not genetically predestined to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >sport a penis, and his defensive measures were already primed for what he was sure was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >inevitable rejection.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >It got me to thinking about the defenses I have used in my attempts to stave off the same. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >In the pursuit of coupledom, you learn rather quickly that not everyone you cross paths with </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >is the yin to your yang, the sun to your moon, the porn to your -ography. The worst part is, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >there are more times than you care to admit that you want that more than the other person </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >probably does. Rejection hurts most when it’s found in pursuit of someone you just want to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >eventually love.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >But then, once in a while, you don’t get rejected. Someone learns about your past and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >present flaws, and still aches to learn more. You’re defenses come down, and all the risks </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >pay off when you find that you’ve fallen in love. And that relationship, whether it lasts a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >lifetime or sometime decidedly shorter, makes every rejection you’ve ever experienced seem </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >as insignificant as bad dressing on an otherwise good salad. Because the risks paid off in </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >the emotional gamble you took and you found acceptance for who you are, who you were, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >and who you will be. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Rejection is what you have to acknowledge as part of the process of finding a partner. You </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >can accept it like an unappetizing salad, or deflect it like a ‘money shot’ gone astray. How </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >you choose to handle romantic rebuff just gets incorporated into your eventual self that </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >someone will find devastatingly irresistible.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >I never saw Bruce again…in real or in celluloid. I have never in my life cherished such swift </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >rebuke of my charms.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >Honestly.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><br /></div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114009750625674402005-04-20T08:07:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:21:32.993-07:00Make Yourself At Home<div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >The first month, if it last that long, is always the most telling of the way a dating relationship will </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >progress. I guaran-damn-tee it!</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Now, even though the first month of said union is generally filled with giggles, sighs, and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >down-right STOOPID utterances (Oh, please don’t EVEN try to tell me you haven’t uttered </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >‘Schmoopy’ at least once!) good/bad points can show themselves easily to the keen observer. For</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > men, it seems that a good sign might be something like a woman with a great sense of humor </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >combined with an encyclopedic knowledge of football. Not so good; finding a doodle she’s made </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >of her name combined with your last name in every conceivable variation after 4 dates. With </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >women, when he opens a door, that is good. He opens his fly for no reason not involving a right </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >good make-out session, ya got trouble my friends, that’s right I say trouble with a capital T and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >that rhymes with P and that stands for Penile.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Since I’ve touched on the subject of open flies, I shall offer up the tale of ‘Naked Boy.’ </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian was introduced to me by a friend, and generally, friend introductions come with a tacit </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >implication of said introductee’s degree of normalcy. If my friends like him/her, he/she can’t be all </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >bad. Remember though, sometimes your friends turn into your parents when it comes to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >introductions, and find the perfect person they think you would be perfect with yet said ‘perfect </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >person’ lulls you into thoughts of grouting tile with their mind-numbingly dull conversation. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian and I had a surprising amount in common, and he was a dead ringer for the actor Craig </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Sheiffer. His liabilities, a rather compact physique, (Kinda like he was supposed to be about 6 ‘4" </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >but ended up getting inexplicably thrown into a drill press and was thrown into a 5’7" frame. Not a</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > deal breaker, but is legitimate ammo for the ‘Throw away/oh please stay’ decision that generally </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >comes after a few weeks of dates. You know…the time when you size up said object, and if you </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >haven’t been won over, they can be dumped for reasons such as, ‘ I like him but….I’d really like </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >my kids to be tall enough to see over a steering wheel eventually.’) a very intense-for-no-reason </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >demeanor, ( like every word out of his mouth HAD to be intensely profound. This man could make</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > ‘Would you like another Cosmopolitan’ sound like he was brokering world peace) and a bizarre </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >cowlick that he attempted to pass off as a legitimate attempt at noveaux hairstyling. (Note, fellas:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > Women have been stuggling with bad hair days LONG before it was OK for men to wear mousse:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > Get back in line, buddy)</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >He also was an incredibly artistic person, and had produced a few straight-to-video movies (and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >NO, they weren’t porn! Porn occasionally has quality!) But his artistic nature and quiet demeanor</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > appealed to me, and it seemed like we were getting comfortable around each other. In hindsight, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >that last part may not be such a good thing.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Our first date was a very casual evening at a West Port Watering Hole. We discovered a similarly</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > off-center sense of humor, a thirst for current event discussions, and a mutual love of our adopted </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >home of Kansas City. He was also a graduate student, so I figured he was aspiring to more than </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >being a shift supervisor at KFC. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Several subsequent dates followed, and he was kind enough to bring roses by my office for my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >birthday. I was starting to think that I might actually see him past the usual 3 week shelf-life of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >previous suitors. And fellas, in case your wondering, flowers DO score you blazing points in the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Keep Him Around category. Any chick that tells you differently is lying like a cheap rug in a 5 and</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > dime.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Now, it was the point in a relationship where things can get dicey: The ‘Who invites who over </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >first.’ Thankfully, Brian wanted to show me some film posters he had worked on. (I suppose it’s </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >the B-movie producer equivalent to ‘Let me show you my sketches.’) He had a fairly nice, though </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >incredibly junk-packed apartment, and something that should have sent me running for the hills: A</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > cat he had shorn most of the hair from.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >OK…let’s now get the chorus of ‘What were you thinking you dizzy Bee-atch when you went out </span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >with him after seeing that’ out of the way, shall we?<br /><br /></span> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >NOW…in my defense, and as any cat owner can attest to most of the time, his explanation was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >that the cat had gotten into some burrs and found it was easier to shear the animal down than </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >fight for combing time. It sounded reasonable, and the cat didn’t seem traumatized. But then, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >they do prescribe Prozac for animals now, don’t they?</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >After venturing to Casa-De-Brian and having left his abode with his status as a gentleman intact, I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >assessed that it was safe to invite him to my North of the River crib. (It sounds so ‘street’ when </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >you say it like that!) He had been wanting to show me one of his films (And using the term ‘film’ </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >to describe one of his movies is a term used more loosely than a Jennifer Lopez marital </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >commitment), so I invited him over on a Tuesday evening of pizza, beer and movies. Since it was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >a ‘school night,’ there was relative safety in the assumption that he wouldn’t be attempting a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >sleepover.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian shows up with an Imo’s pizza, 6 pack of MGD light, and his film. (In respecting his </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >anonymity, I will not mention it here, but venture to say that, if you’ve seen it, you are perilously </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >close to ‘Dumbass’ status and sure as hell don’t look for reading material any more complex than</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > Haggar the Horrible) I was dressed in a sweatsuit, hair was pulled up, and minimum of make up.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > Suffice to say I was not in full throttle temptress mode that evening.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Now, while I normally feel that there are certain parts of my romantic encounters that aren’t up for</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > column fodder (i.e., gettin’ busy time), I do need to stress the fact that Brian and I had not been </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >intimate up to this point, nor had the topic been discussed. Trust me…this will become an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >important reference point in a few paragraphs.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian and I settle onto my living room floor for a comfy little carpet picnic. (Hey…get your mind </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >outta the gutter: I’m talking wall to wall carpet here!) He sits down, then says ‘Do you mind if I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >get a glass of water?’ My response, and words that I have learned to never again utter to anyone </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >without whom I share a genetic bond or a mortgage, was ‘Sure, Make yourself at home.’</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Now, while this seems like a purely innocuous phrase, I suppose that it could be taken in a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >number of ways. None that I was familiar with outside of kicking off ones shoes, filling a glass, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >and getting your own damned drink, but I suppose different strokes for different folks. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian had decidedly different strokes.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >He asked if I meant that. My puzzled expression and momentary lapse of memory regarding his </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >shorn cat only managed a ‘Uh..sure’ response. Now, logic would have told me that the response</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > to my offer to attempt a reasonable degree of comfort in my four walls should have been met with</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > something along the lines of ‘Thanks,’ or ‘OK.’ But I didn’t get the need for reassurance of my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >offer. It’s not like I was offering a kidney or anything. Truth be told, I was feeling too damned lazy</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > to fix him a glass like Martha Stewart probably would have.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >I am busying myself with prepping the celluloid entertainment for the evening, so wasn’t aware of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >any out of the ordinary activity going on behind me. Had I known what I was about to encounter, I</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > would have frozen in my place and never looked around.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian comes in with a glass of water in one hand, a beer in the other, and pants that had </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >magically disappeared. Nothing…nada…no fig leaf, no Haynes, No Fruit of the looms. However, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >he was sporting foreskin, which just added a further sense of ‘What the HELL’ to the whole </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >matter.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >There are few events in this world that will do the impossible and render me speechless. This </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >was one of them. Aside from the surreal attempt at nudity now displayed before me, (He was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >also wearing socks in addition to his shirt. That’s just wrong anyway!) Brian seemed genuinely </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >perplexed that I was dumbfounded at his attempt at making himself comfortable. I logged the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >fastest transition from bewilderment to outright rage I will definitely ever experience. </span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >"What in the WORLD are you doing?’ I shout. He explained that this was how he was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >comfortable in his home, and that he assumed I would be OK with that, since I said he could </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >make himself at home. Now, this is where the earlier paragraph referencing the act of ‘gettin </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >busy’ comes into play. That subject had not been approached at that time. Although it was an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >unexpected bonus that I got to see the merchandise beforehand, as having THAT be one of the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >benefits of waiting would have made the wait agonizingly fruitless.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Trying to convey the greatest sense of ‘I can and will inflict heinous fury on your soul’ that my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >5’4" frame and incredibly weakened position (I’m sitting on the floor with a half naked man </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >towering over me: You try to remember your Tai-Bo at that moment!) could convey. And idiot me</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > had bothered to clean up before he showed up, putting my normally ever present-on-the-end table</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > nail file uselessly out of reach for it’s alternative purpose of self defense. (If ya can’t take it on an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >airplane, it can maim you in some way)<br /><br /></span> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Thankfully, his passive nature didn’t 180 to ax-murderer, contrary to the image a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >beer-toting-half-naked-sport-sock wearing man would normally have you believe. He was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >genuinely perplexed at my reaction, as if partial nudity was kosher among today’s more hip </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >hostesses. But he did put his pants on and leave my apartment in the 30 seconds I afforded him </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >once the sense of ‘What the HELL’ wore off. It was perhaps one of the shortest dates I have ever </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >had, clocking in I know at under 10 minutes. Facilidate Schmiladate!</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Now, suffice to say Naked Boy had indeed managed to get ousted in under one month. Granted, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >he made the decision mere child’s play with his apparent aversion to pants, but at least I gave him</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > what I felt was a fair shot. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >But what is a ‘fair shot’ when the potential object of your affection isn’t dangling their junk in an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >attempt to get comfy? Some people are afraid to admit that attraction tends to be largely physical</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > initially. They think it makes them ‘Shallow.’ I am unashamed to admit that I have to be </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >attracted to someone on several levels, physically being one. Now, I have gotten to the point </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >where someone who is physically very attractive, say like a squished down Craig Sheiffer. (It </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >sounds repulsive, but he was actually pretty sexy when fully dressed) Who, as I got to know </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >them, just didn’t gel with me. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Brian and I just didn’t mesh well, personality wise…but I am glad that my experience has taught </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >me that the looks only get ‘em so far. There has to be something worth delving into past the first </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >giddy ‘He is SUCH a cute boy!’ phase! Otherwise, you are stuck with a really nice looking person </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >who is dumb as a post, (Not one of the smart men I’ve dated ever de-pantsed without express </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >invitation to do so!) and has radically different ideas of how to spend down time. (I shudder to think</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" > what would have happened had he wanted to do like so many men and cuddle by the fire. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >EWWWWW!!!!)</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >I see no harm in admitting that physical attraction is important. I see nothing wrong with basing </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >the decision of getting to know someone because they appeal to your aesthetic sense. It’s only </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >when you let the hot-I-tude they possess compensate for their lack of something else you find too </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >important in a potential dating relationship that you venture into ‘shallow’ waters. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >It also helps to have a little patience with the ‘getting to know’ you phase. If you rush things, trust </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >me…little details (like shorn cats!) can get overlooked that would have saved you both time and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >intellectual investment. Patience is a virtue, especially when you are talking about involving </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >someone in something as important as your life.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Keep your pants on: Truer words were never spoken!</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" ><br /> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:85%;" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" ><br /> </span><br /></span></div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114009070920658372005-04-20T07:56:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:34:16.033-07:00Jailhouse Block<div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >"You didn’t get ANY warning? There wasn’t one sign?" Those are the two most frequently </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >asked questions when I recant the tale of Prison Boy and our brief time together. Excuse </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >me…I’m getting misty. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >With the number of dates I find myself going on, my circle of friends are at a complete loss as </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >to how to separate who from whom. The Midwest is not known for it’s plethora of diverse </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >names, so the Bill’s, Matthew’s, John’s, etc., tend to pile up when you are going through them </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >like Weight Watcher’s rejects at an all you can eat buffet. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Consequently, it became easier for them to simply refer to each of my dates by his specific </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >eccentricity or psychological abnormality. We have many, and most of them will probably get </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >their own column, eventually. In the Spring of 2002, Prison Boy was thus added to my roster. (I</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > swell with pride at the thought.)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >I think the first rule of thumb I forgot when accepting each of the three invitations Prison Boy </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >asked me out on was the Serial Killer Claus. Ladies (and men for that matter, but there has </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >only been one recorded case of a female serial killer, so she may just have been having a </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >seriously bad hair year), remember one basic fact when assessing whether or not a date is </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >worthy of your time a second time around: Serial Killers are never tapped as psychotic maniacs</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > UNTIL the bodies are already found. Prior to that, you can bet your Estee’ Lauder Free Gift </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >with Purchase (It is retail value of $60) that every person who ever knew him, when asked, had </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >this to say about Freddie Krueger: ‘He was pretty quiet. Always friendly. A pretty good </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >neighbor.’ </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >The Serial Killer Claus: Any man who is pretty quiet, always friendly, and a pretty good </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >neighbor should be suspected of also being a serial killer only until the complete background </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >check comes back on him.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >So, I accepted my first date with this nice, fairly reserved young man. I will say that, I saw him </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >in short sleeves, and there were NO TATTOOS VISIBLE! Our first date was a lunch date, and </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >he did not salivate at all when the bread appetizer was brought out, nor did he show a particular </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >fondness for plain ol’ H2O. He was a very pleasant person, and we had a terrific lunch. He was</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > a pleasant companion. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Later that evening, he telephoned me to tell me what a nice time he had, and he would like to </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >see me again. I was up for it. He had really nice eyes, and he was a gentleman. (What did I </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >know…he’d been in prison. I may very well have been the proverbial woman training wheels he </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >needed to reintegrate into a non-prison dating environment) Again, I reiterate…no strange </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >behavior presented itself, and at all times during the conversation, he came off as pretty quiet. </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Always friendly. A pretty good neighbor </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >However, one thing did not make sense during our conversation. His tale of his split from his ex</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > wife just didn’t have a good time line. It didn’t really make sense when you posted his tale of </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >the split from what time frame he gave me regarding said split. Now, having been divorced </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >myself, I can appreciate how you aren’t particularly proud of splitting with a spouse. But most </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >of the details are seared into my memory with a pretty reasonable degree of accuracy, and the </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >same holds true for most of my friends who are divorced as well. It’s not the kind of thing that </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >slips your mind when you are preparing for the State to officially confirm that yes, you are a </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >failure at marriage.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >In my quest to be fair, I wrote that off as just me being too judgmental. Everyone takes </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >heartbreak a little differently. (I find shopping therapy is my best healer. That and breaking stuff)</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" > Cut the guy some slack. You remember what it was like when you first started dating after the</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" > divorce (How can I forget? I refer to it as ‘My Dinner with Anxiety.’) So, I ignored the intuition </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: times new roman;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">that serves me well when I listen to it and prepared for the next date: Dinner and a club.</span><br /><br /><br /></span> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >OK…we go to dinner. Very nice time, AGAIN. We go to the club. Great, gentlemanly escort. </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Although, he was getting a little too…intense. And, he kind of let it slip about his living </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >arrangement: With his family. (He is in his early 30’s. That is just wrong unless you have been </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >financially swindled, the crew of This Old House has moved in, or just being released from prison.</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > Which I later found out was how he'd spent his summer vacation, but I digress.) Ohhhhh </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >kaaayyyyyy. Yes, by now, I’m quite sure most of you women out there are going ‘Uh, hello! </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >What part of Freak did you not get from that?’ Hey…it took me 6 times to pass college algebra: </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >I tend to not pick some things up with the speed of light.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Be that as it may, he was still a really nice date, and date three went much the same way. </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Although, he did want me to know he was going to the east coast on business, and would I like </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >to get together with him when he returned. Well, I told him yes, but in that way that you know </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >when he returns, you are suddenly going to be very, very busy with work and not have too much </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >time. (Sure it’s weasely, I know…but the guy was pretty quiet. Always friendly. A pretty good </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >neighbor. Why try to damage these pleasant qualities?) </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Hey! He said he was going to be gone for two weeks. The earth was created in 7: A lot can </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >happen, y’know?</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Day two of Prison Boy’s trip: I get a collect phone call from him (Once again, What about this </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >didn’t scream Jerry Springer audition?), which he explained was because he lost his phone card </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >and he didn’t want to run up his friends phone bill (So I guess running up mine was somehow </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >OK?). We talked for longer than I realized when I heard that most dreaded of sentences: I have </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >something I need to tell you.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Ed Note: I will pay good money to the person who can come up with a better phrase than that </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >with which to preface REALLY bad news. Just by nature of hearing that sentence, you already </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >know what follows it is going to supremely suck. Can’t we get a little sugar with the medicine, </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >please!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >What does he tell me? Well, his ‘business’ is really with the Connecticut State Court system, </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >and, depending on the outcome, he may not be getting back very soon, as he is facing jail time. </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Now, the particulars aren’t important because the particulars are nullified by the fact it includes </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >JAIL TIME! By this time, I am furious, as well as seriously hacked that Prison Boy WAITED an </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >hour into the conversation before dropping this getting-ta-know-ya bit on me. (Factoid: A 1 hour </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >and 15 minute collect call is $74.43, and something tells me Brainiac didn’t use 1-800 collect!)</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >He tells me he will call me the next day and let me know how it went. This is where I have to </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >work on my boundary issues, because I was literally feeling sorry for this poor slob (This does not</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > mean that there would be any pity-coitus involved with that upon his return, but I did have a </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >marginal degree of pity for him for reasons only me and my therapist should discuss). So I tell </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >him to at least let me know how it goes.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Cut to Wednesday evening. Phone rings and a monotone computer voice says: YOU HAVE A </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >COLLECT CALL FROM AN INMATE AT A CONNECTICUT STATE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY.’ </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >(I shit you not, dear readers). This should be stunning, I tell myself, and accept the call. I know, </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >since my mother works in a prosecutor’s office (Oh, the irony isn’t lost on me with this point, </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >BTW), that the call will be a maximum of 15 minutes, so I accept it. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Well, Prison Boy didn’t have such a good day in court, and his legal infractions were enough to </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >warrant 11 months and 13 days in the pokey.(I’m not sure what you have to do in Connecticut to </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >warrant that kind of time, but DAMN!) Why didn’t he get it taken care of sooner, I ask? Seems he </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >was held up when he had spent the prior year in a correctional facility somewhere in the 4 state </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >area! What next would I find out? That he was also the leader of a Columbian Drug Cartel?</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Suffice to say, Prison Boy’s following attempts at contact were abruptly halted, as I promptly </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >blocked all calls from that Connecticut State Correctional Facility. He attempted having his </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >mother call me once to plead his case. OK, Norman Bates, switch to decaf for God’s sake! And</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > I was dumbfounded as to why I didn’t see this in the first place.</span></div> <div style="font-family: times new roman;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Now, I realize that I couldn’t have known about his prison record (up to this point, I always </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >assumed that former Jailbirds had a much harsher look about them and were in no way able to </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >behave as men who were pretty quiet. Always friendly. A pretty good neighbor.) But there were </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >MAJOR red flags in his behavior that, in retrospect, really should have sent me running for a </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >restraining order.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Where I failed most was in not trusting my intuition. We are given intuition for a reason. It’s </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >nature’s way of allowing us to think twice before we attempt certain things. I go into my darkened</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > apartment. My intuition tells me if something isn’t right. My intuition told me to leave certain </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >jobs, other situations, etc. And 90% of the time, it’s right on the money.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >But, what I was actually doing was confusing intuitive warning with judgmental assumption. I </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >strive to be as non-judgmental as possible. I realize I have certain issues or hang ups that can </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >filter my perception of people or situations. So, in overcoming that, I work towards accepting </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >more people and situations that I normally wouldn’t, because I’ve found I learn a lot more that </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >way. </span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Intuition tells us to pay attention to that which we don’t concretely know. You don’t KNOW </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >something specific isn’t right…you just know it’s not. That’s intuition. Trusting yourself and your </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >ability to navigate life’s many obstacles with a minimum of disruption: That’s intuition. I’ve </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >learned in my past two years of living single again that, in retrospect, my intuition warned me </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >about negative situations before I got into them. I arrogantly assumed I knew better. (Prison) </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Boy, was I wrong!</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >So, with prison phone calls on permanent block, I have settled back into my humble existence. I </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >have had several dates since Prison Boy, and all with men who didn’t give me a ‘Haven’t I seen </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >you on America’s Most Wanted before’ feeling. I leave judgment to the experts. Especially those</span><span style=";font-size:130%;" > who dole out 11 months and 13 days to felons who can’t seem to figure out how to spell </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >1-800-collect.</span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" align="left"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >However, Ladies, beware. In the spring, f you have a date with a man who seems pretty quiet. </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >Always friendly. A pretty good neighbor, think again: It could be Prison Boy. But we are safe </span><span style=";font-size:130%;" >until next March.</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><br /></div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1114008871433994652005-04-20T07:51:00.000-07:002005-04-20T08:35:39.936-07:00Of Modems, Men, and Morocco<div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I’ll say it: I HATE being single! Don’t get me wrong…I like ‘singlehood’…but the whole single mentality is just not for me. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I do fine on my own…I make a terrific salary working for a tech giant as a system administrator, within 10 minutes of my 910 square</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > feet of apartment are a wide variety of upscale retail shops at my disposal and who are too willing to keep me in the latest trends, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >and I have friends (even the nowadays obligatory gay buddy!) who can share times out or ‘Sex and the City’ on Sundays. I L-O-V-E </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >that part of my life. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Nonetheless, I like having A boyfriend. A: Single: One: Solo: One-and-only: My ‘special’ friend. I KNOW it’s not fashionable, but far</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > be it from me to stay with convention where the heart is concerned. Don’t EVEN try to tell me, for those indignant single women </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >out there who are already telling me I’ve taken the women’s movement back to the days of June Cleaver, that you don’t occasionally</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > wish for that blissful state of couplehood: There’s something about picking up the phone, hearing THAT voice…watching a cheesy </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >80’s movie curled up on the couch with THAT person…reading over bring home work with your head in the lap of a wonderful man </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >who brought home Chinese food because he knew you’d be too tired to cook. Now be honest: Doesn’t that just make "down time" </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >amazing. I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t experience the giddy adrenaline rush of seeing a flower delivery van pull up to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >your office, and you actually have that glorious moment of anticipation that it really MIGHT be for you. (It probably isn’t…but at least</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > you have a reason to hope.) I challenge any woman worth her Jimmy Choo’s not to admit to relishing that part of couplehood.</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >What I HATE about being single is this whole dating ritual that we have to go through in order to achieve the state of ‘couplehood.’ I</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > consider myself a serial dater. Annette Benning said it best in ‘The American President,’ ‘Lately, I seem to be going out on a lot of</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > first dates.’ How I meet most of these men I will get to shortly, but let me suffice to say that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve either gotten </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >choosier or men have just gotten…different. I’m going with a combination of both. At 24: Cute Butt, job with no name tag, lives </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >with a group of guys instead of parents: SCORE! At 34: Has a butt, Job with no ‘pending IPO stock options,’ doesn’t live with a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >group of guys or the ex while working out ‘financial matters’: Well… I’m free for lunch. A short one. I have a meeting at 1 p.m. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >And I have to prep for it.</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I was officially thrust back into the dating jungle on May 23, 2000, when my divorce became final. Having managed to stay with one</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > man for 7 years, I wasn’t prepared for just how rusty the ol’ dating skills had become. And, having learned a few things between </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Meeting Husband and Divorcing Husband, I seem to have forgotten that, as a general rule, dating SUCKS! </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > OH, BUT I CAN HEAR IT NOW: "You should appreciate your singlehood." And trust me, I do. It helps that I am of age in an era </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >where single women aren’t stigmatized or looked at with veiled curiosity. And I really I like having my independence. Having </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >worked hard to achieve it, during marriage, where you’ve got a partner to pick up the slack, and the divorce, where you are thrown </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >into a whirlwind of upset with emotions, finances, lifestyle change, etc., I don’t intend to give up that prize or modify it so easily. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Yet, I began dating. But this time around, I had three pools I refused to dip from: Work, my friends, or ‘singles mixers.’ Worked </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >with my ex…BAD idea. My friends…’He’s single and the bankruptcy has been discharged…you guys need to hook up!’ Singles </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Mixers…Yeah; if I’m 70!!! I had limited my options, true…but betwixt Meeting Husband and Divorcing Husband, something new </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >happened onto the singles scene: Internet Personals.</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I know what you’re thinking: Those guys are perverts! Internet Personals are for desperate people! Gee, www.loser.com…where </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >do I sign up! Actually, I just investigated it as a curiosity, to see what men were looking for. After spending hours in complete </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >fascination, I decided to take a crack at this and post my own personal. Seemed reasonable. I could check for things like literacy,</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > technical competence, and photogenic capacity without having to go to the trouble of getting primped and preened to search the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >singles prairie of the greater Kansas City, Mo., Metro area. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I had spent over a year meeting MANY people this way, and have used several services. I usually went on a minimum of one date a</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > week, with a few periods where there was just one person and a bona-fide, just- for-grins-call-it-a, relationship, and the personal </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >went off-line. (Until it eventually got to the point where he turned from ‘Mr. Right’ to ‘Mr. Got-on-my-last-nerve.’ )</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >My most recent foray began at the end of February of this year. I was determined that I was going to play the field…make the most</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" > of singlehood…go on the ‘free dinner and drinks’ regimen my male co-workers suspected I was exploiting. I signed up with two </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >services, one being ‘Love@aol.’ I had good success with them and really like their approach to allowing you to carefully construct </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,adobe-helvetica,Arial Narrow;font-size:130%;" >your cyber-psyche in the most convenient manner possible.<br /><br /></span> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 16, 2001. I am spending my lunch hour on a hot, Missouri day, taking advantages of the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >perks of super hi-speed Internet access to check my email from AOL. I had no idea what in the</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > world caused some very strange e-mail messages in my in-box. Plus, I had been seeing one </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >man regularly, and we were as exclusive as you can be without actually bringing up the subject.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > Frankly, I had forgotten about that ad, and thought I should go through and at least send the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >perfunctory ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve met someone,’ response before I deleted it. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I type in http://www.love.com…DEAR SWEET MOTHER OF GOD! I’m Personal of the Week! </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >To my complete and utter horror, my mug and a very complimentary blurb about me was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >posted on their homepage as a sample of the many available singles looking for love along the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >digital hiways and byways of our newly connected society. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >How I got this ‘honor,’ I’ll never know. However, that fine print my father always insisted I read </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >must have noted this when I submitted it in the first place to include that AOL could use your </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >personal and pic for ‘promotional purposes.’ Aside from the dismay of realizing I’m now a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >nationally advertised single person, my hair looked orange in the picture! And I always wanted </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >my 15 minutes of fame to be something my parents would brag to their friends about: Let’s </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >face it, Daddy telling his buddies that ‘Hey, didja see my little girl? She’s at </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >www.dateless.com,’ just doesn’t carry the same reverence as ‘My daughter just developed a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >new code to irradicate all e-mail viruses.’ Little did I know that I was about to have my entire </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >e-dating world thrown asunder by some perceptive (or downright mean) staffers at AOL. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >As a single woman, I find that I am constantly amazed by the bouillabaisse of available people </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >wanting to make a connection to the Internet. And for those of you who envision a subculture of</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > the strange, perverted and weird, I have to say that I have found mingling this way a most </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >positive experience. Granted, I’ve met a few VERY strange people. Overall, I am a champion of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >the Internet dating world. Where else, I ask you, could you meet and share food, drink and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >conversation with a physics professor, a former porn star, and an entrepreneur (all different men)</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > in the same week. I guarantee you THAT crowd ain’t hanging around at the Barnes & Noble! </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >So, I decided to relish this brief honor, and document my 15 minutes of pseudo fame. In this </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >day and age of instant celebrity, I’m now a few whines shy of a Real World roommate, I figure!</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 16 - 25 responses. Wow…I’ve discovered that I am extremely popular with African men, as</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > I have received 3 marriage proposals from that continent alone. There is also a German </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >gentleman who, while I’m sure he’s extremely nice, wrote to me entirely in German. (A </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >language I don’t speak.) While I’m sure the sentiment contained therein was genuine, I’m not </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >entirely convinced he could actually understand what I wrote. I think orange hair must be a hit </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >with German singles. Unfortunately, with 6 days to go, I think I will weigh my options. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >However, one man captured his love for me quite beautifully, albeit abruptly; ‘I look for you all </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >my life. We must Marry. Love, Ajubar Jadani.’ All this BEFORE he’s seen my American </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Express bill! </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 17 - 37 responses. I’ve now appeared to reach my home shores. Several elderly </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >gentlemen in Florida are bidding for my affections with talk of yachts, trips to corners of the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >globe, and promises of hair plug implants if that is my wish. I’ve also received 2 more marriage </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >proposals from the African coast. I check websites to see what the affinity is over there for </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >short, bottle blondes with a comprehension of UNIX and an encyclopedic knowledge of movies. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >I’ve also received a terse response from a former spurned pixilated Romeo as to why I was still </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >looking…and an 18 year old who wanted my assistance in maximizing his sexual peak. I’m still</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > two years shy of mine: Drat! OK…Well, I still have 5 days of hope. Color me the eternal </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >optimist.</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 18 - 28 responses. The Middle East is calling. And one very bold Chinese man wanted to</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > fly me over for Pot smoking and a threesome. I’m amazed how my cyber-self can sound the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >multi-cultural mating call, as today’s responses were all from lands other than the US. There </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >was also one person who I’ve managed to assume either 1.) has a boat, or 2.) is a boat, as the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >attached photo was of a very small row boat. I’ve never been good at symbolism. I am also </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >starting to suspect that my purported resemblance to Caroline Rae is doing me more harm than</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > good. Need to write her and see if she’s more popular outside of our country’s borders. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 19 – 33 Responses: Some freak with a love of iambic pentameter wrote me an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >incomprehensible love story; A Moroccan is sure I will love his country when I fly over to marry </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >him; and a Brazilian is convinced I am his destiny. Now I believe that our foreign neighbors see </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Internet Personals as the American poster wall of the desperate and lonely. My self-esteem </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >hasn’t suffered such crushing blows since my dress strap broke during my Senior Prom. I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >refuse to tell my mother she was right that this whole Net dating thing wouldn’t yield results! </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >It’s NOT gonna happen. I do write a very nice message to a response from a British pilot, who </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >promptly responded with a Naked photo of himself. Before I put him on permanent mail block, I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >did reply. My response: Nice Cessna. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 20 - 25 responses: Well, my prowess has apparently and thankfully been contained within</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > these shores…but, again. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! A 20something with a desire for </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >bondage, an ‘independently wealthy’ cad from Colorado, and a very witty man from St. Louis </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >(SCORE…a Show Me Stater!) were among the throngs this Sunday. It’s not so much that they</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > are inappropriate…but I’m frankly tired of rejecting so many otherwise, I’m sure, nice people. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Just as I suspected, after carefully reviewing my ad again, not once does it say ‘If you have an </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >psychological abnormalities, you may very well be the man I’ve waited for ALL MY LIFE.’</span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >July 21 - 31 responses: I am thoroughly convinced that the U.S. educational system is in swift </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >decline, and it’s heading on a worldwide bent.. I sign on to check my daily tally (I’ve long since </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >given up the minor self-esteem boost many letters can give you…hard to feel Goddess-like in </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >this environment when it’s plainly obvious that these respondents haven’t gotten ‘hooked on </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >phonics’ yet.), and am inundated with boxes ‘Hi, you wanna chat,’ ‘Hey, great ad,’ or ‘Why </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >haven’t you answered my email yet!?!’ My normally cheery nature has been severely tested </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >with this, and I’m now a raving she-beast when the little box pops up. OK…so I’m tarnishing </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >my crown as ‘dateless queen of the week.’ I am not amused. </span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left" style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >And as quickly as it rose…the sun set on my week in the searching spotlight. To make </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >matters even worse, the man I had been seeing and was frankly growing very tired of prior to my</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > insta-fame was now more intrigued by his status of ‘the Love@aol girl’s boyfriend.’ </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Somewhere, I knew my ex-husband was behind this evil plot to bring to ruin my self esteem and</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > my hopes at happiness. That or I really was on God’s bad side. Not enough to warrant eternal </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >hell and damnation, just emotionally banal dating for the rest of my natural life.<br /><br /></span> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >The funny thing I realized as I was pouring over the heartfelt, widely varying responses was that</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > I, at least, wasn’t alone. There’s a mindset that singlehood can sometimes dip you into: That</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > you are the ONLY person out there without a satisfying relationship or the capability of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >actually forging one. It can seem like everyone else has the key to it and has decided to vote </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >you off the island of love rather than clue you in on this wonder and mystery. Yes, even I, with </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >a diverse city, wide array of matching shoes and handbags, and cosmopolitan friends at my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >fingertips, fall into that trap. Men from all over the world were feeling lonely and outcast from </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >our stringently coupled world. I had a brethren: Not a dateable brethren, mind you. But, a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >brethren, nonetheless.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >As I pondered this realization, I also realized it was Saturday night. And the evening was free.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > Uh Oh, better call Whosit and make plans. I MUST DATE…I MUST DATE…I Must…but that</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > would mean getting out of my comfies, ironing something, the whole make-up ritual, forcing a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Good Hair Night, and for nothing more than listening to him prattle on and on </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >about…about…gee, that’s funny. I spent so much time being his date, it never occurred to me</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > to ever listen to anything he said. Well, he’d prattle on about something, I’d feign interest, and</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > try to make something entirely unworkable into something it would never be. There was much</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > better fare on Lifetime TV, I was sure. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Suddenly, being single seemed a helluva lot more promising than even a free, moderately </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >expensive meal and drinks on his dime. Worse yet…I realized it was WAY better having many</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > options than being a couple with a man who I really didn’t want to listen to anything he had to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >say, short of ‘Fire’ if I was in the same building. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Oh, dear Lord: I PREFER BEING SINGLE…I REALLY LIKE IT!</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Would I ever ‘couple’ again someday? I must honestly say, I don’t have an answer for it at this</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > time. I think, if I found the right person who had the correct mix of all those qualities I find </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >enchanting and wonderful and sexy, it could happen. But the key to successfully being single,</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > I feel, is about is valuing the individual nature of ourselves. I don’t think I realized that until I </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >saw how many other lonely people were out there looking for an answer in another person, </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >myself included, when the fact of the matter was, the key to living a happy single life, or a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >happy coupled life, is cherishing what you value about yourself. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >Another thing I figured out is that fixating on your singlehood only gives you one very small </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >piece of the picture. Being part of a couple is so all-consuming to many that singles can </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >easily forget to develop who they are. We seem to feel that, if there isn’t another carbon-based</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > life form to ohh and ahh over a rainbow, it’s less enjoyable. But, if you are so bent on being a</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > part of a couple at the sacrifice of your own enjoyment, you both are being cheated, no matter</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > how beautiful the rainbow is. I am convinced being a happy single person beats being a </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >miserable part of a couple any day of the week.</span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >So, I’m back at being single, and my ad is still up. Thankfully, the responses are much more </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >locally centered. And I’m spending my first dates with men who at least have the potential to </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >become terrific friends. I’ve even met a few men in the real world, which is pretty good for a girl </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >who spends so much time letting her modem do the flirting. But I now look back on my </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >moment in the single-girl spotlight with a slight tinge of regret that I was so hasty to spurn just</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" > a short while ago. I probably could’ve learned some valuable insights from strangers to carry </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >with me in my daily life. But what is life without a regret here and there…I think it keeps you </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >on your toes to not let other experiences pass you by. </span></div> <div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div> <div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 51);font-size:130%;" >In this case, that is a shame; I hear Morocco is beautiful this time of year.</span></div> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><br /></div>Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1112886452556385512005-04-07T07:46:00.000-07:002005-04-07T08:07:32.556-07:00Death watch?If anyone reading this is a news junkie like myself, they you are one of two types of people: Those who gobble every morsel, and those who think...Overkill?<br /><br />I will be the first person to admit that CNN is on my fav channels list. When nothing else is on...sure, I'll throw it on for background noise. But with the Terry Schiavo deathwatch and now the oversaturation with the Pope's funeral, I am finding myself a little tired of the whole mess. <br /><br />I don't mean to suggest that neither event is saddening, nor do I imply that it is not newsworthy. But dear GOD...how many shots of large crowds can you show us before we get just alittle over the whole newscycle of these events? Now, if either one of those folks happened to rise from their deathbeds...THAT would be news. But is all this coverage really necessary? Methinks not.<br /><br />What else I find wholly uneccesary is the apparent cannonization of Terry Schiavo. How many of those supporters really had heard of her before she became an unsuspecting media figure of sorts? Sean Hannity is STILL beating the drum of her constitutional rights being violated. The woman has been cremated, Sean...not a thing that shoots out of your overactive pie-hole will bring her back or change the situation. She was a brain-damaged patient who had the great misfortune to be a pawn in a family fued. Hannity, Coulter, and the other throngs of conservative yappers who talk endlesslly about her violated rights don't seem to take into account that the judicial branch, which had the facts as documented, ruled against the 'ruling party,' and it turned out that they just didn't get there way, when the elections told them otherwise. Too bad, so sad. Things don't always go the way you plan, now do they.<br /><br />Of course I sound heartless in this. Not much I can do about that. I am not, I assure you, heartless. However...when a person is MISSING A CEREBRAL CORTEX, it is pretty much assured that you aren't doing much healing, thinking, talking...in essence, with the abscence of a cerebral cortex, the most a person is able to accomplish is converting oxygen to carbon dioxide, which the plants love, but those who love you are watching your shell waste away, pained by the memories of who you were, agonizing over the disparity of who you now are. Why, exactly, were the conservative talkers so on board with keeping 'life' afloat when all it meant was more money for the medical teams and more pain for the families involved? If this is the party of 'life,' I want no part of it.Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11873894.post-1112454657217154642005-04-02T07:10:00.000-08:002005-04-02T07:21:48.106-08:00Virgin postJust a first post. Probably nothing of note yet. However, for those who read this blog, you can expect to find musings on such things as movies, rantings on idiots who call a pot raise with a J3 os, my seething, white hot hatred of Ann Coulter, ( or Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, or any other conservative ranter who has more wind in them than sense or grasp of truth) current affairs, or general relationship ponderings.<br /><br />As for me...I'm a 38 year old divorced woman (5 years, no rantings about my ex-husband or anything...long put those issues to bed) with no children that I am aware of. I'm a homeowner, dissatisfied corporate cog, friend, daughter, girlfriend, niece, enemy, newbie gamer, poker amatuer (I put Phil Helmuth in the same category as Han-baugh-ter, btw), woman, and other identities as yet to be determined.<br /><br />Thanks for stopping by, and I hope at some point I can make you laugh, think, or possibly change your entire world view.Nunya Bidnesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14598557827707124909noreply@blogger.com2