Writer's Block

Well I guess I've painted myself into a corner haven't I? I have a ton of stuff -- good stuff -- to write about but I don't want my friends and family to be reading about themselves, now do I?

For example, I have the two great friends, Romy and Michele. You've seen their High School reunion? They have graciously included me in their group of friends who hang out at the exotic Highway Cafe. And I mean exotic! We meet late on Friday night before the karaoke starts at 10:00. I never would have thought that I’d be hanging out on karaoke night, but there I am having a great time -- okay, not always great but I always enjoy myself. Romy sings and Michele watches. Romy is an excellent singer -- does great on Amy Winehouse stuff. There are other new acquaintances of course. Donny the mild mannered nice guy is always a pleasure to be around, even though he speaks so quietly that I usually nod and smile a lot with no fucking clue what he said. He sings to -- King of the Road is a favorite of his. Oh yes, and dances! Usually Marsha and Tommy come by as well. I think they are newly housemates. And there are loads of other people whom I can't make up names for because I barely know their real names.

My big problem with the place is smoke -- but what would I rather do: Sit home in a smoke free environment or be with friends at the bar? I can wash the smoke out of my clothes but I don't have nearly as much fun with imaginary friends at home. Pause . . .

Okay, I've been thinking about parenting as a topic for blogging -- my god, I just used the word blogging - and now I have a segue into it: imaginary friends. My kids had imaginary friends, but Rob’s was the best. His name was Brian and he was really well developed. He was amazingly real, except for the minor detail that we could never see him. We knew exactly where Brian lived because as we drove down the street near our house, Rob (well then he was Robbie) pointed out where Brian lived. Brian and Rob used to do all kinds of stuff together and when they were done, Brain went home. When Brain had done his time and needed to go, he didn’t just cease to exist. He moved to California. We know because we stopped at his house and when I said I was going up to knock on the door, Rob told me that Brain had moved . . . we never heard from Brain again. The point is that nothing in the universe beats being a parent. Yes I admit adolescence is shitty, but the rest is great. Now that my kids are young adults, or Chris’s case, adult period, I am finding out that this is just as great as when they are little. My personal favorites are two year olds. Forget that terrible two’s stuff. Nothing beats talking with a two year old. They are so bright and full of wonder and clarity. If you just talk TO them and not AT them, you’d be amazed at how lucid the conversation can be. Kids are a wonder.

Back at the bar, kids aren’t allowed. Well, people under twenty-one aren’t allowed in. There are lots of kids there. Lots of genuine salt-of-the-earth people. Very comfortable – so far. People watching is good. Last week Dancing Cindy and her husband were there. Regrettably Dancing Cindy, who did not wear her underwear on the outside, sorry to say, did not dance or sing. However her husband serenaded us with sounds that made you look up and say “Why?”

Romy and I used to work together – I was her boss. She has been the best friend imaginable. I’ve been away from work for two years now and we still have lunch almost every week. She’s terrific. Michele is Romy’s best friend from always and has been terrific to me. She is interested (or pretends to be in a very convincing way) in my adventures and we have yoga class with Marsha and Tommy. She knows my son -- remember him? Brian’s friend.

So that is the best I can do at dancing around the surface – the real nitty gritty goes in The Book. See you at the bar!

Sitting Around at 2:00AM

This is exciting, you know? Writing a blog in the middle of the night. My mind is free of the day's burdens and I can concentrate on . . . yes, I know I don't have any burdens, but still . . .
Well, I did it. I sat right there in the offices of Great Expectations and paid a fortune – five times what I would put down on a new car – for a dating service. WHat the hell could I have been thinking?
And what do all dating services sell? Their membership list. That’s all they have to offer. Every one, including efuckingharmony, deceives you into thinking that they have a black box from which they will produce your ideal match and all you have to do is just describe in excruciating detail whom it is you want to meet. They neglect to mention that they can only match you up with other people who have joined their service. You want a tall forty year old Ph.D. from Manhattan who likes sailing and romantic walks after dark? Good luck. They have only two Ph.D.’s from Butte who are 5’ 4”.
You’d think after three years of It’s Just Lunch – which I laugh to think that I used to believe it was expensive – I’d be wise to the allure of paying to meet Ms. Right. Actually, I’ve met Ms. Right more than once and she was wonderful – I was just wasn’t prepared to be Mr. Right. So here I am, the man who used to negotiate deals for a living and I ask the attractive (big surprise: attractive young woman selling a dating service to a middle aged man!) sales woman to show me what I’m buying. Nope, can’t do that; privacy you know. Okay, show me a demo of your system. No, can’t do that either. And I still did it! Why?
Frustration? Desperation? Showing off? Hoping against hope? Whatever, I did it. You should have seen me after I did the first search on new members in the Detroit office? It was the same thing that you get on BABYBOOMER peoplematch.com for 15 bucks a month --okay, at least most GE people had pictures. I felt like puking or crying. Page after page of women in whom I have no interest. Yes, I know I’m picky, very, very picky. That’s what I thought I was buying – select group of people who were willing to lay out serious cash to meet someone. Well, not so fast big boy. -- Let me stop and say, least I come off as the elitist that I am, I’m talking about compatibility and common interests; not making value judgments. And while I’m making a point, the women I have spoken to from GE have been wonderfully smart and attractive and personable. The other 90% who have selected me . . .not so much.
Check this scam out. When you search, for example, all women from the Detroit office, it includes women “who visit your city”. So you sit there thinking that these women have answered a question somewhere says: “What cities do you frequently visit?” And they said “Detroit”. Nope. It just means they have a global member ship with access to all 50 offices whether or not they’ve every been to Detroit, Palo Alto, Cleveland or where ever. So 50% of the result list lives far, far away and you have no shot with them. Before I realized this, I kept asking myself why am I being selected by all these women in Florida, Connecticut, California and BFE? Because I show up as visiting their city, I guess.
The punch line is this. It’s a bitch to find the right person. You say you already knew that. Yeah, me too - but you didn’t spend a fortune to find out!