Ho for the Holidays

Ah, Christmas cards....

...The joy of a handwritten envelope heralding news from far-flung friends of days gone by...

It's so nice to hear from those dear to us, but it's queer and creepy to hear from those you don't know and can't recall.

This year I received a bland but lovely card from someone claiming to be an alumnus of my grad school. The sentiment was generic enough to be friendly without saying anything. His name didn't ring a bell. The address was a city not far from the university, but I've never known anyone who lived there. There was a small sticker in the lower left corner with an email address and cell phone, so I decided to see if Google might clear away some cobwebs and refresh my memory.

No such luck, but I did find out that in August of this year, the author of my Christmas card was driving down I-95 and wookin pa' nub in the form of some gay trucker action. The next result was a listing for a male escort service, and included a picture. I'm generally pretty good with people... if not names, then at least faces and I swear, I've never seen this guy before in my life.

Looking at the strange web-ephemera, it occured to me that this poor guy is actually the victim of some sort of identity theft... but if that's the case, why is he sending me Christmas cards?

Am I Scrooge here or is this the next Nigerian money order scam or something?

I don't get it... what's the angle?

I get Christmas cards from my dentist and from a local realtor that I know. Is this guy just trying to drum up business? Potential clients and gay truckers? And if so, how did I get on his list when I haven't lived in his area for over 9 years, and haved moved at least 4 times since then. *shudder*

Date 73 - Young Student, Old Skool

I was delighted when I got an email from L midweek. I couldn't remember him exactly, but he included enough detail that I had a vague recollection of him. What I thought I remembered was that he was cute, seemed really nice and down to earth, but that he looked really young.

He wanted to go to the Radical NY! exhibit at AMOA and I was hooked. A guy who volunteers to go see art? I'm in!

He even volunteered to wear a Santa hat so I could spot him easily. Bonus points for moxie!

I was a couple of minutes late when I saw him striding down the opposite side of Congress, but I was feeling shy, so I slowed my pace and let him in first, then I sidled up to him inside the exhibit. He was taller than I remembered and adorably clean cut.

It was great to have something to react to and discuss. He had some great opinions to share. All in all it was an excellent date.

Some of the work was really provocative, and some was just plain weird, but there's something bonding about viewing absurd video montages and explicit photographs of genitalia on a first date. Pardon the pun, but let's just say the art was well hung.

It was really educational too... who knew that William Wegman, the guy who dresses up his Weimeraners, was so avant garde before he wound up selling out and doing calendars? It was cool to see pictures of the partners of famous artists that I hadn't seen before. I had never seen Keith Haring's or Robert Mapelthorpe's partners or their work before. Interesting context.

And plenty of random flotsam...
A Keith Haring crib. Early Madonna fashions. Some Stephen Sprouse clothing and textiles, sans safety pins.

We spent a good three hours taking it all in and chatting. Pretty impressive given the limited size of the museum. We finished up in the museum store and then said our goodbyes with a hug on the side walk.

We both agreed we'd like to see each other again, but I'm not sure how I feel about going out with a guy that much younger than me. He's 28, I think... ? Which shouldn't be a big deal, but they were playing some old school hip hop in the museum as we were leaving. It made me want to rollerskate, and I couldn't help but think that he probably wasn't out of diapers at the time.

If all these 80's references make you nostalgic, scroll down to the bottom of the blog and get your PacMan on... my little gift to you!

Date 74 - Lovely Parting Gift

T called me the same night he met me... basically asking me to ditch the guy who had glommed onto me toward the end of the evening, and hang with him instead. I didn't hear my phone at the time, and when I got the voicemail I had no idea who it was from - always fun.

Thankfully, he sent me an apologetic text message a day or two later asking if he could take me out and including his name, and I happily returned his call. He was out of town, but we made tentative plans for lunch or coffee over the weekend. Later in the week, we nailed that down to sushi on Saturday at noon. Fun with fishies! My favorite.

I arrived at IchiBan right on time. I'd never been; it was much cuter than I imagined. I didn't expect the little koi pond just inside the entrance. T was leaning over the bridge watching the fish when I walked up.

My first thought was, "Wow - that's one shiny shirt!" It looked like something that might actually be too loud for Rodney Dangerfield in CaddyShack, but I gave him points for being festive. It is the holiday season, afterall.

After a hello hug, we went inside and got a table and took our time catching up and chit-chatting. He's an interesting guy, but not what I expected. I don't know what I expected... but he wasn't quite it. He's got an amazing vocabulary, which is refreshing, but he's not formally educated. He's currently in sales and sells alcohol to bars, but has had quite a variety of menial jobs before now. I envy the freedom he has in driving around his territory visiting clients instead of being tethered to a gray fabric wall in a cubicle farm. I think maybe he's got the whole work thing figured out better than I do.

Halfway through lunch he asked me if I had any children or ex husbands. Nope!

Then he asked if I had any interest in having children or ex husbands, which I thought was novel and funny, but it made me feel self conscious.

The sushi was good, but when the restaurant started playing Engrish Christmas carols, it was my cue to hit the road. Our server brought the check and gave it directly to him. He accepted it graciously so I thought he was going to pay, but then he placed the folder open and perpendicular to me, which I took as a sign that he wanted me to split it. I opened my bag, fished around for my wallet and found enough cash, but when I had it ready, he was plunking down enough cash for the whole bill. I asked if he wanted to split it and he took my money, but it felt weird.

We wrapped up our conversation outside and he walked me to my car before remembering that he had "something for me". I couldn't imagine what. We walked over to his car and he pulled out an iced bottle of Italian bubbly. How random. And how goache of me to have mistakenly called it Champagne, when of course it wasn't from France.

I figure it's the first time I've gotten such a lovely parting gift from a lunch date; and I guess from a financial standpoint, all said and done, I ended up even.

Scary Christmas to All!

...and to all a good night!

Apologies if you were at the Jones Center this weekend and your fancy schmancy soiree was rudely interrupted by a mob of 200 Santa Clauses singing bastardized Christmas carols. We only dropped two F-bombs in the lyrics, but I think the off key Santas were more offensive.

It was all in the name of fun though...
As we passed by the plate glass windows, you looked so stuffy.
So repressed.

You couldn't believe Bitsy was going on yet again about her trainer at the gym. [yawn]
Then Bob's boring tales of golf course shenanigans were threatening to put you into a catatonic state.
But that was before we took the museum by storm.

...Honestly, didn't your wine and cheese go down just a bit easier after something so unexpected, and dare I say, artistic? At the very least, your conversations got alot more interesting!

It was a fun night. Maybe too fun.... the Twelve Bars of Christmas and all that. An excess of random flirting and weirdness.

I'm now in serious lust with a very tall, very fetching man at Barcelona.
(sigh) ...so dreamy and yet I never got his name. I think I'll have to make a return trip just to feast my eyes on him again. Ladies, I've got dibs, so don't even THINK about it!

I also have a vague recollection of giving my card to a very beautiful bald man at Darwin's Pub and saying something to the effect of, "You're adorable! Call me sometime." Not my style usually, but when surrounded by 199 other Santas, normal social mores just don't seem to apply. Besides, he'd already given me the eye a few times, and I didn't have time for chit chat... I had more bars to visit and more Christmas spirits to drink.

Stay tuned. New first dates are afoot!

More soon.
XO

Bereavement

I received some news this week that shook me to the core: the unexpected and accidental deaths of some dear friends. It didn't register... didn't compute. Stunned and horrified at what this meant for my girlfriend who survived: what she's been through, and what she's lost. What she'll now have to endure.

As the news finally started to sink in, a cold chill descended on my shoulders and through my bones. Days later, I still feel it. And I can't begin to imagine her agony. She lost her mate...the love of her life. Her family. She's one of the strongest women I've ever known, and I believe someday she'll be OK, but I can't begin to imagine how she's coping now.

She's seen me through thick and thin. Good times and bad. I'll do anything I can to help her through this, although I can't imagine my help could have much impact. I don't know that anything can truly help, but I'll be present.

I was home when I got the news. I was about to head to the gym for a swim but driving didn't seem like a good idea. I was shaken. I really wanted company; I didn't want to be alone. I reached out to D, hoping he'd offer some consolation... empathy... support. He just sighed and said in his perpetually congested voice, "Yeah, death is hard."

He stayed on the phone with me for a little while and as a result I learned a bit more about his thoughts on religion and the afterlife as I was sniffling into the phone. At one point he was unemotionally quoting scripture to me. I felt more lost and disoriented than before I called him. He didn't even offer to come over.

I called a girlfriend and the tears let loose.

She was there for me... she was exactly what I needed.

She listened.

She talked me through the shock.

More importantly, she emailed and called me the next day just to check up on me. He didn't bother.

All the stress and nonsense of my workaday life means nothing in the face of a tragedy like this. This is the wakeup call, the mother of all reality checks.

Wring every ounce of love from your life and savor every drop. It's gone too soon.


[Post script] - I didn't hear from D again until Friday night when he left a message tantamount to a booty-call. Very tacky since I'd just spent 3 hours at a gut wrenching memorial service. Another voicemail the next day... same tone. He's over.

Age Appropriate

Last weekend I went out on an impromptu date with the old guy, D. After almost a week of hanging out in my pj's at my mom's house and remotely coordinating towing and car repair, I was ready to spiff up a bit. Nothing fancy, mind you, just my contacts, a little makeup and an easy dress.

We had a yummy dinner at Koreana and then he wanted to take in the new Bond movie.
I loved him in LayerCake and Daniel Craig might have the hottest bod in the history of Bond, but why couldn't they spare the measly $2.59 for some scotch tape to reign in his monster ears? Is it supposed to make him sexier because we infer that he's a great listener?

Our timing meant we were stuck going to Gateway theater (not my favorite). The lines were insane, but for some reason no one was using the ticket kiosks. Evidently they were a new concept for D. After he inadvertently cancelled his transaction for the third time in a row, I was cracking up and then noticed my former crush standing a mere 3 feet away.

He was alone on a Saturday night and looked pretty shabby.
I felt pretty smug since I was looking good AND on a date.
Then somehow I saw things from his perspective.. that I was must be out at a movie with my dad.
*shudder*

That feeling just intensified when 3 very cute 30-something guys sat down right in front of us. D is good company, but shouldn't I be out with someone a bit closer to my own age?

I've always liked older men. Mainly because they have better manners and are a bit lower on the jackhole factor... but at some point aren't the guys my own age supposed to mature? Ripen?

I'm getting older, so shouldn't the guys my age be grown ups by now? Heck, the former crush was a couple of years older than me (4 maybe?) and he was still stunted.