time (clock of the heart)

It's always a mystery to me why two people that should clearly hook up never get around to, or why it takes such a long time for them to eventually do so, when all the conditions for their carnal rendezvous are seemingly within reach. Timing is everything, indeed.

Case in point: Lisa is a girl I've known for a few years. Despite our tongues being intertwined within the span of a few drinks on the very first night we met--and subsequently going out on a date or two--nothing ever came of it. In the interim, she'd dated some doofus for 2 years--a fact which, truth be told, made her significantly less attractive to me--but after that dude was out of the picture, lust and unfinished business between us began to nudge me once again in her direction. It was a fruitless task, however.

Until now.

So, at 3:30 AM with thoughts of some last minute hookup with a friendly partner clouding my judgement as usual, I bumped into Lisa at her fave bar late Saturday night and decided to shower her with my slightly drunken charm. She was sitting with some mutual friends and their guests but when they left shortly thereafter, I went over and made my move. It did not take long to have it bear results. But I had one minor obstacle to overcome.

"It's late. I've gotta go."

"Really? I was hoping you'd stay."

[This is the part of the exchange where the woman will give a reason why she has to leave.
But if she doesn't offer up any and instead asks...]

"Why?"

[...you are sooo in.]

"Because I've missed you and I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you."

"OK. Let me get my purse and I'll come sit with you."

A little kissing and drinking later we are back at my place pretty much doing what we should've been ages ago. This became especially true to me when I got to gaze at that yummy body, delicious breasts, and those luscious thighs that invitingly lead to the promised land.

But the best thing is, the next day, she didn't want to leave and I didn't want her to go. When was the last time that happened? Hmm...

I don't want to be her boyfriend, though.

people are strange

Friday night I'm hanging with a couple of friends at one of my fave bars when I bump into Jane, a young singer/songwriter who I've had a thing for that dates back a few years. She's sitting at the corner of the bar, with her glasses on, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a wifebeater and sweatpants. And even in this decidedly drab attire she looks absolutely gorgeous. Jane has blossomed over the years from a cute girl to a beautiful young woman. The transformation has been stunning to watch.

Jane greets me warmly and tells me she's grateful that I showed up just then since a dude not of her liking has been making a rather feeble, yet annoying attempt to chat her up. Jane is trying not to be mean, but she's clearly not interested. You'd think her body language and demeanor would give this guy a clue. No dice.

After the clueless guy eventually figures it out and disappears, Jane and I continue to chat for a bit and the sweet, affectionate side of her personality that is so endearing to me shines throughout our brief time at the bar. She excuses herself due to having classes early the next morning and leaves me with a heartfelt hug and a mild case of longing and what ifs. Ah, Jane...

My buddies and I are engaged in conversation when a cute 30-something sitting across from us, and accompanied by two guys, flashes me a nice smile which I reciprocate. She then proceeds to introduce herself and her companions, one of which happens to be her boyfriend. OK...

They seem nice enough and we end up talking at length about music. We've hit it off and eventually the friend offers to buy me a drink, which I accept. I later excuse myself to go out for a smoke and Theresa asks if she can join me. OK...

After bumping into an old Brooklyn but now living upstate acquaintance of mine named Monica while outside, Theresa and I head back into the bar and I resume the conversation with my own friends. We soon after decide to leave and hit another neighborhood joint.
As I'm saying my goodbyes to Theresa and her friend--the boyfriend had temporarily disappeared--she starts caressing my face (!) and telling me how much she loves my facial hair. The friend, meanwhile, is not fazed one bit by this. Hmm...

"You must have a good woman who loves you," Theresa says, while her hands are still resting on my face.

"Actually, I don't. But I do alright. Do you have any friends you can introduce me to?"

"You should give me your card."

"She is good to know," chimes in the seemingly unsurprised friend.

And against my better judgement I grab a napkin from the bar which I give to Theresa
bearing my e-mail and phone number and walk out behind my friends.

Now, granted, Theresa was visibly tipsy but I know how uncomfortable I'd be with my significant other openly flirting with some guy. And one we've just met, at that. I'm also pretty sure my buddies would not take kindly to her doing so in front of them, especially if I wasn't around. Maybe Theresa and her beau have an open relationship. Maybe he's the super non-jealous type. Maybe none of this means more than some friendly interaction under the influence. Still...

time is on my side (for now)

I’m bored and feeling something similar to “cabin fever” when I decide to venture out for a drink
on a recent Thursday night. Cursing the heavy rain and wondering if I should’ve stayed home,
I make it to my corner bar where, unbeknownst to me, I was to encounter a ray of sunshine.

Shortly after ordering my first drink, I’m approached by a cute girl who sits next to me
and introduces herself. Beth is new to the neighborhood and is ecstatically telling me
about the great deal she got on her new apt, when I jokingly call her a liar.

"Honey, you're too cute for me to lie to."

And we’re off.

Before long we’re making out, rubbing up on each other. Beth is making weekend plans for us,
asking to be sent romantic emails, and pleading with me not to tempt her into going home together.
I'm on a roll.

Finally, around 3:30 AM she decides to leave and have an old college buddy
she was hanging out with walk her home. The seed had been planted.

Or so I thought.

The following day she responds to the nice email I sent her with this:

"Great meeting you last night as well and thanks for the sweet e-mail.
I gotta say though...after thinking things through with a clearer head
I am quite reticent about the age difference (and to be perfectly honest
am just not ready yet for lovers/dating/romantic notions). I am, however,
totally down for a neighborhood friendship. So sorry to be wishy washy."

What a clown.

All I could respond was, "Ask yourself one question: Before you knew the age difference, did it matter to you?"

I’m not interested in any platonic-type relationship, so that’s that, I guess.

This latest scenario is making me rethink being honest about my age when courting 20-something girls.
Luckily, by not looking my age I can fake being ten years younger, so I guess I will. The age difference has
rarely been an issue with girls younger than me by 15 years or so—I’m currently hooking up with a girl
who’s 26, the same age as Beth—but hey, if it’s gonna prevent me from getting laid…

And the saga continues…

how sweet it is

Whenever I bring up my dealings with women of a flaky nature, my dear friend Mrs. L bemoans the lack of decisive, no-nonsense women—like herself—out there. So, how refreshing was it to have a recent hook-up partner show up at my place in a tight little black dress and nothing underneath? Ah, yessss...

Hey, Mrs. L! Guess what? There are still some of you resolute women left out there!

an inconvenient truth

Some say that a man is as only as faithful as his options. (Believe it or not, I've ALWAYS been faithful, despite the occasional worthwhile opportunity to stray.) I'd venture to suggest that if the average non-wealthy schlub lands a hottie--like in every other sitcom of the last 40 years--he's less likely to tempt fate and step out on her, as opposed to a guy with looks comparable to hers. Unless, somehow, the schlub manages to attract a woman hotter than his own.

Now, if all of this is close to being true, then obviously an attractive man who reaches middle age with his looks intact is definitely going to stray from his once equally attractive wife. Right?

[1977 wedding photo of John and Elizabeth Edwards courtesy of New York Times]