27 March 2011

Vegas Chicks

While in Vegas, mixing strip club visits and drinking sessions, my getting hit on by women was a surprising highlight. This made me feel loved again, in a most non-traditional way. First was at the pool. Lovely Lulu was a busty nurse from New York, a crass, tell-it-like-it-is 30 year-old; truly a breath of fresh air. Normally shy and reclusive, I put down my Pulitzer prize winning novel and allowed our chat to unfold, and must report that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even bought her some chips. Not poker, nacho. This nurturing nurse offered to take a fabulous photo of me in my bikini to send to my Agent for publication. She also shared with me a tremendous portfolio of penis pictures and stories of dating revenge to rival my wildest fantasies. While I didn’t finish my book chapter…I made a lasting friend.

Later that evening, a cute male bar-fly pronounced to me, “My wife thinks you’re hot.” Whoa, swingers? Well, at this point, who cares? I took the compliment with a polite, yet genuine and heartfelt thank you. Upon my return to the same barspot a beer later, I ventured to ask, “So, is she really your wife?” After all, Vegas is full of con artists. He assured me she was, and that he had doubted the presence of any hot chicks until she pointed me out. It must have been too dark for them to see the huge red divorce dot growing on my eyelid. I’ve involuntarily compromised my facial beauty along with my married life.

In the magnetic way the subject of marriage seems to attract me, the subject was broached “Are you someone's wife?” to which I am still formulating the ideal reply. Almost not. Soon not anymore. Once was not now. Is there a way to convey the utter pain and horror or divorce without using that terrifying, alienating D word? Regardless, the unmarried sentiment garners immediate sympathies. The couple opened up right away outpouring their real-world stories of marriages gone bad, including their own, which they had managed to salvage at the last moment. As a result, they were enjoying the sexy lounge scene in Vegas while their 3 children slept peacefully upstairs. The evening culminated with the classic phone number exchange and vows to keep in touch. Love vibes.

26 March 2011

Introducing...My Agent

Anyone as shy as I am who is going to be successful at dating in an utterly domestic, monogamous, sterile environment such as Million Maples, CA is going to need a Dating Agent.

I came about my Agent in a rather unusual way. But then again I am a rather unusual person. It used to bother me when people called me weird. High school insecurity. Now I take it as the compliment that it is.

My Agent passed every initial screening. I could not stump him no matter how hard I tried. He was clever, funny and eager to do a good job. He was responsive, creative and met his deadlines. On the qualitative front he offered professional friendship and advice. I hired him before I even developed the job description. That’s one of my carryover best practices from marriage: diving in without thinking.

“What the hell is a Dating Agent?” you may ask. Well, in an effort to avoid the obvious, it is a person strictly dedicated to helping me date. Yes, I need help. I’m not perfect.

So hire an Agent yourself if you need improvement. It’s working for me.

19 March 2011

Dates With Married People

Just like what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas...I need to switch to invisible ink for this one.

If you have one of those special ink-reading computers, you might be able to figure out how to read it.

If not, just use your imagination...

05 March 2011

Sex in the City

(Behind) Bars on suburban dates

The problem is, there is no sex.
And there is no city.

Certainly not. This is the suburbs.

Houses two inches apart (not lips) and strip malls where you don’t strip.

And I’m Dating Suburban.
Like it or not. Love it or leave it.