Saturday, February 17, 2007

Ming the Merciless

Once again, I have proven that a little boredom is a dangerous thing. I was getting a little bored with the Santa Claus, cum Walt Whitman look and I had some time on my hands before the gym opened. A little too much time. I hasten to point out that I was not drinking at the time.

I think I had been trying for Mephistopheles, however what I got was having one of the guys from IT ask me, "What are you suppose to be? A Klingon?" You know you are in trouble when a geek is telling you, you look geeky.

Hey, it's just hair. It grows back.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Full Deck

I was fairly successful in avoiding my birthday today. I am not upset by birthdays, I just don't get why people get so excited about them. At any rate those birthday greetings that I did receive were sincere and welcome. Monkey, Quebecer and Boyflex all wished me happy returns of the day. Monkey gave me a gift certificate for iTunes and Quebecer a very nice and I must say touching card. Boyflex, when he heard that I had turned 52 told me that I am now playing with a full deck. This will come as news to many.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Too Wise to Woo in Peace

I spent an expensive day at the dentist yesterday. I don't mind too much. He's a nice guy a good dentist and he's cute. He's also got great taste in receptionists. Jimmy is a very tall, very handsome, very built black man, who I am sure is popular where ever he goes. So yesterday I was surprised to see a new, yet equally good looking young man behind the reception desk. He is the new receptionist, and a pleasant view to survey while waiting. After 2 hours in the chair I went up to the desk with my doctor because the receptionist had left for a late lunch. I complimented my dentist on his taste in receptionists and told him I thought the new receptionist was adorable. He said, "I think so too, we're getting married in July."

Ooops. Still, I can't be faulted for telling the man that his fiance is attractive, and I wish them all of the best. It did however get me thinking about my own feelings about love and marriage. Or rather my lack of hope for one and complete disinterest in the other.

Bad sex is one thing. It makes for good cocktail conversation and is generally funny. At least afterwards. Such as the really hot number that my friends and I were all cruising that I managed to score, only to get him home and discover he was just the teensiest bit plastered and he proceeded to pass out and then piss the bed. Then there was the guy who I was dating, who I discovered was sleeping with all of my friends when he gave us all the clap. The list goes on and on.

But I am thinking not about tricks but about the long term disaster, commonly refered to as the relationship. I'll come clean 2 out of 3 were unmitigated disasters. I started off fine. My first attempt, with Jon lasted about a year and a half. When we broke up, we squabbled for about 6 months and then settled into a life long friendship that consisted mostly of squabbling, but in the way that you can only bicker with good friends. I remember once we were going at it about english lit., or gardening or perhaps some of the finer points of cooking. A mutual friend who was there finally said, "I wish you two would stop arguing!" Jon turned a genuinely hurt face to her and said "We aren't fighting, we're having a discussion." It in general was good natured, and we knew when the chips were down we could always count on each other.

The next 2 however have proven to me that my complete lack of good judgement makes remaining single a much more attractive prospect.

Contestant number 2 was fine while it was happening. If it was not the most inspired romance I've ever had, it lacked any upsetting conflict. I imagine that to a certain extent it reflected a certain amount of laziness on my part. It was like having an easy job, that if not terribly rewarding emotionally, had the virtue of ease and lack of demand. I should have known something was wrong with that picture. After about 18 months of this, Number 2 as I like to think of him, out of the blue announced that it was all over because his old lover was moving back to town. It was at that point that I discovered that his old lover was also, short, dark, had curly hair (yes, I once had a full head of curly hair.) and the list of similarlities went on right down to having the same name. I'll give Number 2 credit. If he had a type, he was dedicated enough to it that there were no compromises. Not so much getting a new boyfriend as a temporary replacement. Needless to say, this did not end well, and I have nary seen nor spoken to Number 2 since.

The icing on the cake was contestant number 3. The first year was actually pretty good. The bloom of new romance and all that, though to be honest, after about 6 months the writing was on the wall. The next 2 years were more like a grudge match. He is one of those people who is a gross exporter of his own craziness, and once he has the other person rolling, their own supply of crazy kicks in. Having an adequate supply of my own we were off to the races. One of his favorites was to assign his crazy behavior to me. i.e. It was my fault he was being a pain in the ass and doing obnoxious things. After a certain point you really do start to wonder about your effect on other people, so it is always good to have friends to confide in. I do remember at one point talking to my pal Bunny about what I had made 3 do and having Bunny look at me with undiguised disgust and say "Oh, I never knew you had super powers, could you get, here he named a bartender that everyone it town was after, to have sex with me while you're at it?"

But as they say, "As a dog returneth to it's vomit,so a fool returns to his folly." and I kept plugging away at this loosing proposition. Finally, after listening to 3 say for 6 months that he thought we should break up, I said,"You know what, so do I!", and so began one of the most protracted and stupid break ups in the history of faggotry. I usually take my time making up my mind, but once I do, my mind is made up. I think you can also guess that once I said, "that's it", 3 changed his tune, because he still had lot's of crazy to spead around. For the openning round, he went to Amsterdam on vacation. Not because he wanted to go to Amsterdam, but because after 3 trips to London in a row, I refused to go again. When asked where I wanted to go, I said, Amsterdam. He said no, he wanted to go to London. I said have a good time, and stayed home. The message of the Amsterdam trip, (where I am told he never left the hotel) was that if I had stayed with him, I could have gone to Amsterdam. So not worth it. It is one example but it should give you an idea of why I think of 3 every time I hear the Eurythmics song "Thorn in My Side". This went on for far too long, in various iterations and sad to say, I am not proud of my own behavior. Finally, I acted on the obvious solution to this mess and removed myself completely from 3's sphere. While I don't actively avoid him, I do not seek out his society either. He is blissfully and disfunctionally coupled again for many years now and on those few times I do run into him, I am treated to a litany of the unhappiness that he is subjected to with the new object of his affections. The subtext here is that he would not have involved himself with this crazy, if I had not so heartlessly left him without any provocation what-so-ever. It's kind of sad, but I think the situation suits him perfectly and he is about as happy, being miserable, as he is likely to get.

I myself have avoided involving myself in any type of relationship that looks like it is going to lead to the term "commmited", since I have proven to myself that if I do, I may just have to be commited. It's been 17 years now, and I have not been distraught by the lack of pink hearts, tacky cards or gilt puti in my life on the 14th of February. I am thrilled for everyone who is in a successful romance on this day of lovers, and will offer sympathy to those who are not and wish to be. But please, some of us have been purposely dodging blind Eros darts. Trust me, it's better like this.

Talking with Monkey and Boyflex on break we were discussing my entry for the day which reminded me of the one who on our second date, waited til I was asleep and then broke into the neighbors apartment. As Monkey pointed out, at least he didn't rob my place.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Ice Queen

I don't care how cold they say it is, they are lying bastards. I know it is much colder. When I left the house this morning they said it was 11 degrees. My ass! Tomorrow they are prediciting about 7 inches of snowfall, so regardless of the cold I may be overwhelmed with the need to go and watch the Whole Foods parking lot for a few minutes so I can watch all the neurotic yuppies pull up in their Volvo and BMW, SUV's to stock up on bottled water and tofu. It's like a ritual everytime there is a prediction of foul weather here in Boston and is always good for a laugh.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Flattery will get you everywhere

Matt over at Square Jawed Action Hero did my portrait. Pretty cool huh? Take a look at his site, where he reviews movies, talks about cartoons and animation and posts his own artwork.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Gym hazard

I got to spend an hour at the gym. 40 minutes of aerobic divided up 50/50 between stairclimber and treadmill. In theory this will all work in the end to ridding myself of the unsightly bulge that refuses to leave my midsection. I hate doing aerobic. I can walk around the city for hours on end, no problem, but put me on a machine and I am only able to think, when will this be over. Todays adventure in physical fitness was further embellished by the pervasive aroma of ripe gym socks.

The first thing I think when something like this comes up is "Oh my God, is that me?" And it could have been, too. My Barbie dream fitness outfit had been sitting in the locker for a week. While I hadn't noticed anything when I was suiting up, who knows? It might be that it had to come up to body temperature to release it's bouquet. So, I spent 20 minutes becoming much too thoroughly acquainted with the smell of somebodies socks. About the same time the stair machine was announcing that my 20 minutes had ended, the fellow on the treadmill behind me finished up and as he left, the eu du bas athletique exited with him. While it is not the first time that this has happened, i.e. one of the gym members being a bit on the fragrant side, what is to me alarming is that this was not some college student with a cavalier attitude towards hygiene, it was someone who was probably my age.

This is not the first instance of that phenomena either. A few months ago, I was talking to one of the other regulars when suddenly we were overcome with the feeling that someone had just unwrapped an extremely ripe gorganzola. I just looked at Frank and said, "Please tell me that's not me." I am happy to say that in fact it was not. It was, alas, another individual of mature years, who seemed to have developed some sort of personal grudge against bathing as far as one could tell. I should hasten to add that the individual was not, at least to all appearances, laboring under some financial embarrassment, or noticeably crazy. Simply that he and soap had had some terrible misunderstanding and were not on speaking terms. The manager of the gym came in and got a nose full. The next day there were signs posted reminding members that we were in and enclosed space and the judicious use of modern odor fighting products were to be encouraged. Not that I think deodorant would have helped much. It would have had all of the efficacy of spraying a limburgh cheese with Right Guard. I found myself remembering the section in "Three Men in a Boat" where J.K. Jerome describes the cheese that wouldn't go away.

"Splendid cheeses they were, ripe and mellow with a two hundred horse power scent about them that might have been warranted to carry three miles, and knock a man over at two hundred yards."

Fortunately for the regulars, the offending gentleman was a seasonal exerciser. He seemed to be one of those people who work out furiously for about 4 weeks before beach season begins and then disappears. Happily, he took his alter ego with him presumably to further endanger wildlife on the seashore. I have visions of gulls, terns and sandpipers being knocked out the sky by this guys feet. So it wasn't until today that I ran across his cousin. It could well be that I have never encountered sock boy before because ordinarily I do not go to the gym on Sunday. However I am on an odd schedule until Le Soigneur decides what to do with me and set me off on my own. So as I say I was treadling away, in a rather green fug today. If I have to go in there next Sunday, I will try to remember to stop at the Army Navy down the street and pick up a gas mask first.