I can’t believe that at this point in human history let alone in the history of the  United States of America, women have to bare the indignity of wondering if health care will include abortion. I am boggled that we as a free people are still being guided by this adolescent, fear driven agenda.

A few years ago my mother had breast cancer, as a result she had a mastectomy. At the time of the reconstructive surgery I found out that the Nipple was considered “cosmetic” and therefore not covered by insurance. Worse, this is the commonly held opinion of Health Insures over all.

So let me extrapolate based on the information at hand. A woman’s nipple is, superfluous, outside of its ability to attract attention, it is an ornament designed to appeal, and of no other use.

With this “logic” which flies in the face of biology and common sense, being used when addressing the concern of reproductive care for women, I am not filled with a warm feeling of being cared for.

The message we are being sent as women, by our own government, one which we support with taxes is that,

It is a fact that our only purpose as women to attract men.  We are vessels and decorations, who are incapable of caring for our own bodies properly, and must be guided. Our role is to give birth and appeal to them esthetically until that time when they no longer desire us. Once this accurse our parts are of no concern at all.

I am a taxpaying, voting member of this society, one built on the ideals of personal freedom, the right to privacy and the separation of church and state. The only possible argument against any woman’s personal and privet right to care for her body as she sees fit is one based in religion.

All free people must stand against such an aggressive act of religious subjugation and institutional discrimination. If we are to call our nation a free country and a democratic republic, we cannot allow our Government to interfere with such basic freedoms. We must guard with jealous fervor each person’s right to determine the way in which they care for their own body.

To restrict any one group from such self determination based on color, religion, sexual preference or gender is to take way free will. It is nothing less than a foot step on the road to slavery.

I love you all and I appreciate the hugs. This is for those who are filled with the need to fix me. Stop it.

I am not a math problem. I cannot be solved. Sometimes the Dragon wins.

This is not whining it is venting.

Whining is an endless annoying sound for the purpose of being assuaged, to gain attention, with the belief that someone is withholding and will eventually give in.

 I am venting, venting is letting off pressure to stop an exploding before it begins, or in my case before I go postal.

Stop trying to tell me you have felt the same way.

 This only works if you are a woman over forty who finds yourself accidently single. If you have not gone through your 20’s and 30’s with only your girlfriends as a support system than you have no idea what it feels like. If there has been a lover who cherishes you and has stood by you throughout these rocky years then you can’t know what it feels like to do it alone. If there is someone out there hoping to smooth your path, or wipe your eyes or nose, you don’t really know how it feels.

 You may sympathize and feel badly for my situation, you can care and wish there was some way to deaden the pain but you do not know how it feels and that is ok. I’m glad for you. It does not make your caring less sweet. I am not looking for everyone to go through the same thing as me.

 I have never lived through a tsunami, I can imagine the devastation but I can never know what it would feel like to wake up every day to that emptiness and try to pick up the pieces.

It is important for me to be able to express this difficult passage. Being an adult is hard. I am using this forum as a place to talk about both the good stuff and the hard stuff. Some people only want to talk about one or the other. I need to do both.

I’m going to make it. I may not do it as I had hoped or planed, but adversity breeds creativity and my support system may have holes and it may be held by grumpy girls, duck tape and black tea with cream,sci fi, trashy novels and quality pet time, but I am grateful for the one I have.

So thank you all for caring and I’m sorry if my declaration of difficulty has worried you but it is part of my process, not a sign that I’m crashing.

Love you all

Ok, I must admit the on line dating thing is getting to me, I may need a break.

How hard does this have to be? Can’t I find someone who is charming and interesting and hot? Can’t that person be hot for me back?

 I must admit that in the past I’ve said that if a man gets to be my age and is not in a serious relationship then something is wrong with him.

I freely admit to this Heinous Hubris. As I see now that it is true, and I am part of the defective pile of relationship slag.  I used to think I was a victim of circumstance. That I had been unlucky in love and I had made bad choices but that did not mean that I was doomed…..

Somehow I must learn to respect myself and my healthy needs while I diligently curb my unhealthy tendencies.

 I must make myself available and open while guarding my freedom.

I must learn to play the field while keeping open a space for the “One”

I must learn from past mistakes while not becoming jaded

I must not take things too personally but not become tough and mean.

I must roll with the punches and keep a sense of humor.

 I must be a freaking combination Jedi/Gandhi to have a health relationship.

 What about all the Asshats I’ve met that just stumbled into it? What about all those entitled, self-absorbed whiners who are wallowing in the unconditional love of a partner without a thought of upkeep or gratitude?  

Now, I don’t want to make myself feel better by picking on others……What the fuck, yes I do!

Let’s get it together people! I’ll try to be less snarky if you all try and be a little humble and grateful for what you have. Count your freaking blessings and I’ll try not to gun my car towards the next kissing couple I see. Do we have a deal? Oh, yha and when you set up your single friends, just remember that they can tell how attractive you think they are by who you set them up with.

I will now resume breathing as normal….

I want to be loved with no limits.

I want to love out loud

I want look in to the eyes of my lover and see the fierce burning joy

 of that same hope looking back at me.

I want the luxury of momentary weakness

I want to be met half way.

I want to fall asleep in the arms of my beloved without the shadow of “goodbye”

I want to have love without denying any one else theirs.

I want to love without leave of anyone.

I want to feel loved even when I’m afraid.

I want to love in defiance of  hardship or hate.

I want to love and be loved with no limits.

New bullet points to ad to my “don’t do this in your online dating profile” list

For those of you who have no idea what I’m babbling on about, please feel free to turn to my Journal entry of  April 8^th 2009

And now,

5) Using LOL Speak, abbreviations and or emoticons or cute punctuation marks to make a face.

STOP IT! These things barely work (without making me throw up a little in my mouth), when they are used in the formats they were designed for, texting and twitter. These are short hand devices used in formats that do not allow a person to express their full range of emotions, say like where the whole English language, and punctuation is not at your disposal. Please don’t tell me you crack yourself up by adding LOL at the end of your profile answers.

I realize that this is meant to be a bit of disarming self deprecation, letting the reader know that you don’t take yourself too seriously. But it comes off like you think your funny and your letting me know when to join in, like a personal laugh track on a bad 70’s sitcom. Now that is a level of cheese that is nearly biblical in its proportions. Or worse, you are talking to yourself on the bus, late at night, wearing rumpled clothes and a fresh urine stain on your pants.  It’s not “Hip,” It’s not “Now”, or “cool” or “in touch”. It’s at best stupid and at worst creepy.

6) Don’t ever say”I’m 40-something but young at heart”.

Or, “You’re only as old as you feel”. In case you did not realize it you just did what you were hoping not to do, call attention to your age and look pitiful.  This really falls under “#4 Listing all your foibles”.

Are you trying to assure younger people that you are still dateable and able to function sexually?

Are you telling me that you’re purposely immature?

I do not want to be the “Wendy” to your “Peter Pan”. I don’t want a angry child trapped in an ageing body,  pouting and stomping their way through life,  posing and preening, needing to be constantly reassured that time and gravity is not wining, someone who is always going to try to date children in order to feel young themselves.

Embrace your age. It is the sexiest thing in the world to meet a person who is comfortable with themselves. I’m not saying lie down and decompose, I’m saying get the most out of your life and the vehicle that takes you through it.

Show me your battle scars, laugh about your puberty (everything before 35), sit comfortably back like the handsome Pride leader you are and let the cubs squabble.  The worthy will know an Alpha when they see one.

7) The word “AVAILIBLE” means “CHEATING”

It seems that some people are unclear on this. I can’t decide if they just don’t think we get it and they are actively trying to take advantage of us, or if they suppose that we all know, but let us be perfectly clear, AVAILIBLE = CHEETING.

 Now I can’t care less what consenting adults in relationships do. You can come home and want to be diapered and spanked, fine, not with me, but fine. You can have an open relationship or be polyamorous, whatever, it’s San Francisco in 2009! It all goes!  For which we should all be grateful.

But not being honest about what you are doing and allowing unsuspecting people to get hurt or unwittingly hurt others?  This makes you a bad person, in case you missed it, YOU SUCK!

There is no excuse for cheating, whatever you are telling yourself to make it ok is a lie and worse it’s a lie that is hurting at least two people, they just don't know it yet. Open your relationship, go into therapy, break up, but don’t lie.

It’s hard to be a grown up. Sometimes we have to do the hard thing and not get what we want. Sometimes we have to think of the people who love us and trust us and put them first.

The rule is basic “Don’t treat anyone in a way you don’t want to be treated”. Got it?

 Over the past few weeks quite a few young men have emailed me through my on line dating site, I just posted them this




to all the young men who may be thinking of contacting me, thinking "Cougar".

 I do not want to,

 Teach you life lessons. Explain where my clitoris is. 

I don't want to hold you while you cry after an orgasm or listen to your girl troubles.

 I don't care how fucked up your family is or how misunderstood you are. 

Though your inner feelings are valid they are neither original nor interesting. 

If all you bring to the interaction is inexperience and a quickly reoccurring hard on, you may want to rethink our compatibility.

I am not your mother or your teacher or your therapist.

 Until you have made me cum a lot and hard, and had a satisfactory conversation with me I don't even care for your name.

 What you are looking for is a Mrs. Robinson. 

Who will find your naïveté charming and your eagerness delightful.

I am a Cougar.

 to me you are either an Equal and a possible mate,

 or food to be devoured and the carcass tossed aside, to be picked at by lesser beasts, and forgotten.

WTF!

My Landlord who up until now I’ve enjoyed a” don’t ask don’t tell” relationship with, just sent us a letter asking for a 10% rent increase, starting October!

So let me get this right, During a time of depression in our country unlike any in the past 50 years. With an unemployment rate of over 10% in our state, My landlord , who owns multiple properties all over my city and has a PhD as well as being a two income family. Tells me that his wife, who is over 60 and also a PhD has just been laid –off and now they are on a fix income so he has to raise the rent. I know his fixed income has to be at least double my working my ass off , with no Freaking help income.

Then,

Ok, My Work Place just randomly, today, laid – off a guy who has been here for 10 years, is super cool and an overachiever in the hard work department.

My bosses want me to understand that this was a tough decision. There have been no raises or bonuses for two years. They hacked out the management last November and three weeks ago they laid off another creative guy and at each time have promised that this would be it, that there would be no more lay-offs…… The executive staff makes, and I know for a fact that this is true, on the lowest end, Three times what I make.

This is my Rant,

 WTF! How about the people who make 150,000.00 and over, suck it the F#*K up! If we all pull together we can make it through this hard time. I know for some that might mean,not buying the newest fashions as soon as they come out or not getting a new car every year or not taking your whole family on a vacation to Europe for the month of July. Or maybe, just maybe, not finding loop holes in the “No Bonuses Policy” so that you and your ass kissing Toadying Yes People can take more time off, with more spending cash, to enjoy how far the Dollar goes in Bangladesh!  

Since none of the little people have had any raises and are living pay check to pay check.  They have no reserves or back up plans, or rich parents to whine to, what about not raising the rent during a depression? What about being Freaking Grateful I’m not at you castle gate with all my friend, some torches, pitch forks and a hibachi calling for a juicy round of Privileged Fat Bastard Burgers!”

So, I’m on my way to work, groggy and shambling like a drunken Grizzly bear. I come to a stop on the corner of 1^st and Market. The commuter traffic whirring around me, angry bees flowing past an un-caffeinated island of semiconscious calm. When a passing Muni street car stops across the street from me long enough to allow the graphic emblazoned on its side to sink through the morass of sludge that is my brain before Peet’s.

It is a cartoon of what looks like three different ethnically oriented men, bald, cylindrical , armless , in Hawaiian shirts all smiling at me, standing in front of a rainbow. The back ground could have had unicorns or teddy bears or teletubbies frolicking in it, all in bright cheery colors, all beaming at me almost aggressively on such a dreary morning. Then I read the message, which urges me to get checked for syphilis regularly.
The slogan, set in a burst of bright yellow is..........

“Have a healthy Penis!”

WELCOME TO SAN FRANCISCO! HAPPY MONDAY MORNING!

God I love living here………

I wrote this on a note pad while sitting in an airplane terminal ……

It is 7:05 exactly 35 minutes after the unhelpful condescending, supercilious young man at the counter informed me that I was,

“Too late”

I had arrived at 6:05pm for a flight that was to leave at 6:55pm, from Seattle to Oakland.

“Too late?”I did not understand, too late to use an electronic check in? Which is what I tried to do first but it told me to go to the counter. Ok? I stood in a line to talk to a person, but the person I spoke to was telling me that even thought my flight was still at the gate, even though both my friend and I, had tickets and there was no line at security, We had missed Alaska Airlines arbitrary cut off deadline and so we had missed our flight. The next two flights were leaving in an hour and would land in San Jose or San Francisco. Which did I want?

There was 35 minutes till the flight was supposed to take off. I have been run with bag in hand by friendly South west ticket agents to the gate it’s self, escorted by Jet Blue employees with a minutes to spare, there was now 30 minutes left to take off, how late could I be?

”You must be here 40 minutes before takeoff. It’s on the e-ticket.”

“I don’t have an e-ticket. I got here with 50 minutes but I waited in your line.”

Now I realize that if you live in Seattle the difference between San Francisco and San Jose, as compared to Oakland may seem trivial. If you live in the East Bay, It’s the difference of an hour, from SF to my house in Oakland   and over an hour and a half from San Jose.  The Oakland airport is 20 minutes from my house. I have a friend picking me up, it’s a big deal to come so far.

“but the plane is still here? (I checked my watch) We still have 30 minutes why can’t we just get on?”

“Your too late” Was his answer. He looked at me with the kind of scorn that is usually saved for child molesters, dog torturers and people who wear two different kinds of animal prints at the same time.

My friend and I were dumfounded. We both of us travel a lot, all over the world. Even in France I had never received a look or and attitude like this. The power mad, authority monkey sitting behind the counter now bestowed upon us a raised eyebrow.

“ Fine, San Francisco, please. And when you are finished if you could direct me to a manager I need to speak to someone about this policy.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked at me surreptitiously,” Would you like to speak to our supervisor? I’ll call her for you.” The overall impression he left me with was that of the last centurion to prod you through a gate that will lead the lion rich environment of the blood soaked sands of the arena.

There was now 20 minutes until our original flight would take off, the flight we had tickets for, the one where seats were booked and waiting for us, but it was not to be. The supervisor shows up to reiterate the policy and listens calmly as I try to explain that this is not just an inconvenience  to us but to loved ones who were now going to have to go much farther at a much later time to come  get us. That it was maddening to know that it was all being enforced for no real reason and that our plane was still docked and we were here. I have never received so little help nor have I been so poorly treated by any other airline. She assures me that even with the 15 minutes that remain she cannot get us on that flight. She is sorry for the inconvenience and the best she can do is check my bag herself.

So we end up at the gate for the plane to SF. At the gate its self we discover that these new tickets are not tickets but standby vouchers, there are no guaranteed seats and that due to construction in SFO we have no departure time. Above our terminal seating (take your pick of meanings for terminal) there is a banner for Alaska Airlines that reads, “Your Stories are our History” it invites us to email our stories to them, mine is on its way. In the end we arrived home at 12:30 instead of 9:30. I have work in the morning and I’m over tired and wound up.

 Throughout this episode Alaska Airlines has been unhelpful and at times rude, over all utterly remorseless in their bureaucratic, myopic interpretation of their own policies and far-flung and random in their understanding of their responsibilities. Needless to say I will never fly with them again. They have shown a reprehensible level of disrespect for my time and the time of people a care about. In an age of highly publicized convenience and luxury, Alaska Airlines has perfected taking my money but is untouched by the concept of service or curtseys, let alone accountability.

Twilight has destroyed Vampires for at least two generations. Once the exclusive brooding grounds of well read angst ridden Shadow Princesses ONLY . Twilight has pulled the Vampire kicking and screaming into the cruel light of day, flash sprayed them with glitter paint and dressing them in Banana Republic casual wear. Resulting in a Disney-fied “My Pretty Vampire” complete with hair brush and booklet of hair style tips.

When I was a girl I longed to be taken away from the hellish mediocrity of High School by a thrilling predator, who I alone tamed with my love and whit.

I did not want a pouty dandy, an eyeliner wearing prince charming (unless it is Adam Ant) who gives supersonic piggy back rides and spends his time sniffing me from a distance.   No! I wanted a dark brooding panther whose vast world experience he would lay at my feet. As I grew past puberty I wanted the claws of that sinuous cat as well.

 Forget about “Oh, no I have to control myself” I want the, savage my throat , pull my hair, slap my ass and make me beg to be your undead salve, kind of vampire! Revel in the dark gift, feed like a glutton as you roll on top of the amassed riches you have stolen from your victims.  Regret nothing, take everything. Guilt and Shame are for those who need it. The whole point of dating a Vampire is the abandonment.  Being an outsider and embracing it, glorying in it. If you wanted safe, white picket fences, chubby babies and acceptance, date the freaking football jock! But for the love of the dark gods do not defang, spray glitter and denuder my Vampires! This is all proof that you people who want the “Sparkly Vampires” are not of our kind.

 Go back to your Barbies, your Care Bears and the Sisterhood of the traveling Pants, your Hanna Montana and your High School Musical. No matter your age you are not ready for the heady, sweat soaked pounding of the mist shrouded world of dark Vampire sex! Better you should never have come here than that you sullied the Stygian Majesty with the strawberry scented sparkle lip balm of your wholesome desires.

Ok, this is more of a Rant than a Post. Not for the weak of heart nor the easily offended but these are the some things about this format of dating that are really pissing me off and I want to share them. Maybe it will weed out some potential suitors but hey I know I’m not everybody’s cup of tea. Who am I fooling?

Here goes,

1) The no picture thing

Posting a picture did not make me feel comfortable but I did it because I did not want to surprise anyone with my appearance and I’m trying to be as honest about this as I can. Not posting a current photo of yourself makes me feel like you have something to hide, (like a basement freezer full of human heads) or that you’re not serious about the people you are interacting with. It comes across as aloof and disconnected. If you are not willing to participate in this common experience of mutual discomfort and there for the comradely of that discomfort, I must question your ability to cooperate in a relationship of equals.

2) The empty or only brief answers on the profile

Look, the whole point of the profile is to give other people the opportunity to get a sense of whether or not the two of you are compatible.  I realize that the pressure of the questions can be daunting, so have a beer or a glass of wine and give it a crack. Ask a few good friends what they think. Withholding info here is like making the waitress bring you whatever she thinks you would like, never having met you before. Throw us a bone, did you find Monty python’s Meaning of Life funny? Or was it the most obscene thing you had ever witnessed? This is a great thing to know about someone. It will tell a person whether or not you have a juvenile sense of humor, something that will help immensely while dating me.

Once again the problem of withholding the information is that you look as if either you want the reader to take all the risks, ones that you have no intention of taking or that you are just looking for that perfect girl to cut the last panel out of and then your girl coat will be complete!

3) The whole “extra points if” thing

What the F@#k? Is this a pop quiz? I just wanted to meet a man and hopefully build a future. Yha know? Get to know someone and stand back to back with them as we fight our way through this “Savage Garden” we call “Life”. Was I supposed to bring a calculator or is this open book? Just tell me what you are into! It is possible that I like the same thing you like but that what you think is a sharp and insightful reference will mean as much to me as a soulful reading of Wuthering Heights does to a dog.

4) Listing all of your foibles  

STOP THE MADNESS! This is not a good idea. Do not approach a stranger and gush out all your weaknesses and faults.  This is like walking in to a pen filled with unsocial Pit-bulls naked with pate smeared on your wedding tackle and waving them about, metaphorically speaking.

Many things that can and would be over looked once someone knows you will become roadblocks that nip a relationship in the bud if that is the first information to come out of your mouth. Now if you are HIV positive, that is an important thing to let someone know, and anyone who will not want to be with you solely because of it should be weeded out quickly but “I was emotionally wounded by my Ex but I have been told by many I am a sensitive lover.” Hold on to this and never let it go.  

Ok, so I’ve been attempting to date on line in a more active way since just before the holidays with less than inspiring results but this last experience takes the prize for most dysfunctional as well as being a depressingly accurate illustration of what I’m up ageist.

Let me recap what I am looking for, just so there can be no questions.

I am looking for a life partner. We can argue over the semantics of “Husband” or “Partner” or whatever, but the truth is I want someone who will make me the most important person in their lives outside of themselves and I fully intend to reciprocate.

Each one of the afore mentioned labels has their own issues, the first calls to mind a sort of "medieval ownership" as if it would turn me on to be some man’s chattel, like I need to be cared for in a child like way. The other sounds like some kind of New Age , New Sensitive Worm Boy, who is in-touch with his feelings, will let me be my own person and cries after orgasm, he just needs to be held…..

I’ve met a few times for drinks and or dinners, I’ve made out in a car like a teenager and even had a wild two hours that ended up with nudity  in a shower bigger than apartments I’ve lived in, yet somehow there was no” Shagging”, Go figure?

Anyway it’s been entertaining some of the time and bleak the rest.

All this being so, it was without any concern for my internet situation that I went off to an industry show in New York to stay for nine days. Most of you know that I am seeing someone who I care for deeply and I did miss him like a constant ache, but the spot of #1 is closed in that book so I’m still looking.

The trade show was what trade shows always are, a lot of work yet somehow mind numbingly boring. I went back to my hotel room each night exhausted and drained of all humanity only to get up the next day, paint a smile on my increasingly strained face and do it all over again. I was nearly weepy with gratitude when I got off the plane in Oakland and knew that my own bed was only minutes away.

The pile of email that greeted me on Monday morning was daunting so after the first three hours of sorting and putting out fires I checked my personal email to clear my brain. To my total shock I had over 6 notifications from my dating sight that someone I did not know had left me messages. I went to my profile page and opened my mail box to discover that while I had been away, a gentleman from Canada had introduced himself, proclaimed undying lust, written me very bad love poems, felt that I was unresponsive and cold. Then he broke up with me.

All in nine days and all without any response from me.  I mean in the first message he called me “A Gorgeous Goddess” and in the last one he called me a “Cold, unfeeling Bitch” Wow…….what can I say?

Sorry I missed the opportunity to be placed on a pedestal, only so you can look up my skirt and then knock me off in person? WTF? I have since decided that it makes a better story this way and that as time efficiency goes this was a win win.

In closing I would like to say that internet dating is really no different than going to a huge party hoping to meet that “Right Person”. Even in a room of thousands there will be only a handful that do “it” for you and then out of those only one or two will be single, willing and ready.  

At least on line I did not have to get dressed up and find parking.

There are some moments that pass by without much more than a whisper, which later you discover were defining moments for your life. The Christmas that was marked by the great Tsunami was one of those for me.

I was curled up on my then boyfriends couch watching on CNN in safety and comfort, as people half a world away desperately searched for their loved ones in unimaginable devastation. The wave had come and washed their lives from the map. Like a giant hand whipping clean a black board.  Of all the stories and images that shook me that day it was the man looking for his wife that got me. He had been looking for over 12 hours with no sleep when they interviewed him.   He said, for him there was no rest until he held her once more.

 Glancing at my boyfriend who was puttering in the kitchen I thought, “Would he search for me like that?” With shocking clarity I knew the answer. No, he would not. He would be looking to his house, then his dogs, then his friends, then me. I knew also that the first person I would be looking for was the man I had lived with two years earlier. The one who had cheated on me, the one who broke my heart, because in spite of the pain I still loved him.

Once I love someone, they become part of my Pack. They are under my protection; I feel a deep need to see them safe. This powerful compulsion has been both a blessing and a curse in my life. Once it is given it is hard to revoke. This need has nothing to do with that person’s ability to take care of themselves nor their strength or weakness.  It is some kind of primal urge, to gather my pack , take an assessment, to know that we are all ok, to touch each of  them with my own hands, smell them and know that they are well in that visceral way. This protection is not granted only to lovers but also friends, its potency is not dictated by time, though it does deepen as time passes.

I have lived through earthquakes and fires and it has always been the same. That Christmas morning I realized that my boyfriend did not love me in the way I want to be loved, and I knew it. I also did not love him like a pack member; there was a part of myself that I held back from him.

What is the point? I asked myself. Isn’t the point to be intimate with someone who will come looking for you after the wave comes?

Last night I unexpectedly was reminded of that moment years ago. It shook me and made sleep impossible all last night.

 I want to be loved that way. I want a Pack. I have always been the one searching for my loved ones. When the wave comes who is looking for me?

 One of the wonderful assets of living in the Bay Area is the opportunity to see live stage performances. Last Monday night I attended a performance of Amanda Palmer at Bimbo’s in San Francisco. The venue was lovely, the entertainment outstanding, but it was the people watching that really sent me.

Now I must preface this by telling you that the girlfriend of mine, who had suggested this show and had procured the tickets, had warned us on the way over that a close friend of hers, would also be at this performance and that she would be meeting a blind date there, someone she’d met on line. We will call the blind date girlfriend “Eve”, to save any embarrassment.

Now I must say that this situation filled me with glee. Having myself, been internet dating now for over a year with wildly varied results, it was titillating me to observe someone else’s discomfort.

I make no claims to being a good person, only an entertaining one.

We arrived in good time and found a wonderful spot with a clear view of the stage and the entryway. We ordered our drinks and settled in. Dee, whose idea it was to go, was glancing around looking for “Eve” and pleasantly chatting with friends which gave Steve and I plenty of room to snark and claw sharpen. I must admit that I am without peer in meanness. Steve though he is kind hearted, did an excellent job of pointing out the few poor souls who, if after the apocalypse,( Zombie or Robot) were the one remainder of our kind in the world, would still not enjoy our attentions. Most of these harsh judgments were completely outfit based. There were two that stood out, both men, one of these is the subject of my tail.

Steve described it as a “I dressed myself!” moment. Once again I remind you that in spite of his extremely manly exterior, Steve is kind by nature, verging on sentimental.

The gentleman in question was around 5’7 husky build with a pleasant round face, bald, with friendly eyes. All of this was fine, lots to work with and given the right outfit completely do-able.

Now I will tell you what he had chosen to wear.  I will start at the top,

On top of his glabrous pate he had affixed two small horns like those of a young goat.

On his brow, he had set a circlet of brass, worked with a twining vine design and hanging from either side to frame his face, were jet beads that created a swag.

His eyes were lined with heavy kohl, in an Egyptian style.

His lips rouged pink, in a color favored by sun wrinkled, time stooped, older Jewish women in Boca.

A long boxy sweater of heavy weave covered his torso past his groin. Dark gray and bulky it made his neck invisible so that his white face and cherubic smile seamed to float, disembodied in the dimly lit club.

Beneath the sweater he wore a miniskirt of an even darker gray.

On his legs he wore tights of white and over those, striped black and white sox, past the knee.

His feet were incased in green wellies.

Lastly he carried a messenger’s bag, slung across his chest, resting on one hip.

I was flabbergasted. One must wonder what he refused, as too "over the top" before he settled on this outfit. I could picture him standing  before his mirror. Somewhere in the shadowy city, in a candle lit room, with Evanescence playing loud musing over the impression he would make. What was the message he wanted to impart to us with this motley selection of garb?

I myself got sort of a deranged Goth Cherub, a bedraggled, Angel of Ennui, a shy, slightly apologetic Urban Puck, or worse ”Hi! I’m uncle Fester’s cross-dressing little brother!”

This event was filled with a wide range of counter culture. Steampunk and Goth, Urban Apocalypse, Undead and Zombie Slayers, yet this guy was an anomaly. He stood for a moment surveying the crowd. I could tell by his expression that he was looking for someone. I even watched him stair at a few women, which surprised me. Wow this man’s balls must be made of brass to be bold enough to try and pick up women dressed like that. I was  impressed by his chutzpa. Eventually he moved into the crowd and Steve and I found new things to entertain us.

Finally Eve, appeared in the doorway, saw Steve and came over. She looked nervous but very pretty. “So? Where’s the date?” We asked.

“Oh, I was supposed to meet him here.” She scanned the crowed even as she answered.

” So do you have a picture?” I replied

“No, he said he would stand out, and he said something about horns.” Steve and I turned to each other in horror. “Did you say Horns?”

“Yha, Why?”

There had been only one set of horns all evening, only on the Miniskirt clad Dark Garden Gnome, who I will now name”Poor Choices”.

It accrues to me that some people may have been put off at the very first mention of “Horns.” That this would have been a deal breaker long before the actual event. I understand this point of view, but let me explain men with horns. When I think of Horns on men I think, Minotaur, Pan, Hern, Horned Gods, virile and potent, sweaty and muscular, bite marks on your tender flesh, sleepless nights filled with hot nasty sex, you follow me?

So, I myself have some sympathy for the sticking around to see the guy who said he’d be wearing horns, sadly instead of an antlered pagan deity, smoldering with sexual energy, she got “Poor Choices”.

In the end we were right, he was the date. I must say that I was humbled by Eve’s willingness to give him a chance, after a few drinks and some time hiding in the ladies’ room and a pep talk from the lovely Dee. Eve did go and introduce herself. I was vastly amused by the whole evening. I try not to indulge in shodenfreuda, but this was so good. Plus Ireally felt for all the parties involved....

I guess the moral of this story, if one can be gleaned, is either, Check with a good friend before wearing anything out on a first date or when you wake up in Hell, go to level 7. There is a Pub called “the Devil’s Elbow”. Head to the back, I’ll have saved you a seat……..

Well it’s that time of year again, the Holidays. I have never been a person who gets the “Holiday Blues”, until this year. It comes and goes, mostly I’m fine. It’s just that, I was just asked what I was doing for New Years Eve and I realized that I would be on my couch, watching a movie with my cat….. He drools when happy….. not a great kisser……..

Rather than get all weepy and feel powerless in the face of oncoming decrepitude and senility while sitting alone in some institution in slowly cooling adult diapers…..

I am empowering myself and getting back out there!

So here I am looking….wow how scary are these people?…. Oh no, did he really write that thinking, “now that should attract the girl for me”?

Why do men put nothing in there profiles? The whole point of the profile is to give a stranger a bit of an over view so that they can tell if there is any compatibility. Withholding information does not make you “mysterious” it makes you look like you have something to hide, like a basement freezer full of human heads…. I have concocted a profile of my own, it’s ok but the first one I wrote is perfect, unusable but perfect. It goes like this,

What ho! You rollicking trolliping sauce bottle!

 I am a rogerer, a roisterer, an adventurer and a scallywag. A devourer of delights and a swivyer of Adonises! I also have been known to brood for days over the plight of mankind, the beauty of a due beaded rose, puppies….. I am also a lover of the finer things.

What say you to a mad chatter about our interests while we covertly size each other up, accompanied by the swilling of wine and the clearing of plates.  Let us chortle and gab until one of us makes an ass of himself or gives offence, at which time we must hope that the consumption of booze will soften the blow enabling us to part without insults. Or if Fortune be kind, (that fickle tart!) we may discover that our attraction warrants a dally! Sink me!

Or, we could just meet for a drink and see if we can stand each other.