Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Dating Sites And My Friend Susan

I am on a couple of "Dating" sites. I "joined" them thinking "What the hell!" and "Who knows?"  An old friend of mine, Susan, who lives 3000 miles from here (we've known one another for about 40 years, perhaps a bit longer), after reading my "Profile," which is below, said, "You're really not taking any chances...anyone who responds to that is going to know and perceive just about everything they need to know about you."

She added that "It's about time. You've had such bloody poor judgment with regard to women in all the time I've known you. Any woman who goes for that is going to know exactly what she's getting into, though you took a little time to get there. Who knows, maybe you'll finally find an ex-Beat or dyed-in-the-wool hippie...remember, you and I never entirely left that era."

When we talked about it, we both thought the same thing: "Why didn't we ever get together?" We had spent a helluvalot of time together when we both lived in New York, we went out to dinner and just about the City regularly. We both think we probably even slept together.

We both concluded that it was probably fortunate that we didn't and just remained close friends over all these years, perhaps the closest of friends. And neither of us had any idea what would have occurred had we lived together for any length of time, or even married. She's not now, nor ever has been though she lives, somewhat uncomfortably, with a fellow.

There is no way, is there, to ever tell. Following is the profile about which she spoke.

It's always challenging to write about oneself, but it occurred to me that I'd face it as the ex-reporter I once was and try the answer the questions I would ask.

That noted, my Mother, from Greenwich Village where I was born and raised, was a psychiatrist, my Dad, a reporter, from Indiana. The combination, I suppose accounts for what I think is my rather wide range tastes and interests.

Notwithstanding an in advanced degree in 19th Century Literature, I worked as a reporter for a very long time, mostly in Washington, DC, covering Congress for a major national paper. For the past 2+ decades I've run a Crisis Management and Communications firm.

I raised two boys from the ages of 6 and 3, as a single parent and sole custodian. That, simply put, was my greatest accomplishment and they remain my best and closest friends.

My interests, well, are modestly eclectic: I'm a great fan of old movies, 19th and early 20th century art, music and the New York Yankees, among others. I'm not a fan of the gym. The only places I travel any longer are to France, and then only to the south, St. Didier to be precise, though I do enjoy Paris, but it's been several years and New York. When I was a reporter, I spent a great of time traveling, almost everywhere; after that I did for my business. It no longer excites me.

I'm not at all a fan of cell phones (when did we ever need to be this well connected), or those who constantly check these devices in movie theatres (why I rarely attend movies these days, as well as because of Woody Allen's quote in "Annie Hall," "My feet stick to the floor." I abhor the so-called "experts" on MSNBC, CNN, etc. While interested in politics, I'm no longer the political junkie I once was as the process has become so tawdry and mercenary that it now falls into my "life's too short" bucket. That noted, I am a liberal left-wing Democrat from NYC.

While this may sound a bit odd, we could well be a match if you've read "Herzog" more than once and liked it and seen both "A Thousand Clowns" and "Nobody's Fool" multiple times and could again. Arguably, that's a bit obscure perhaps, but it would be a remarkable beginning in a relationship for me.

My dog, Rex, a Cocker Spaniel who just turned 11, is my "second" best friend, after my kids. I live in a "clean well-lighted place," to quote Hemingway, that's filled with art and I think well appointed. I'm a helluva cook and baker. I play a bit of guitar and a dulcimer, and love jazz, blues and folk.

I'm happy to answer virtually any question you may have about my life as I consider it "penance" for asking so many as a reporter. However, perhaps I can answer a few of them in advance. It seems many here, if not most, seem to like "fine dining, long walks on the beach, dressing up, men who are 'athletically toned,' over 5'6" or the like" and so forth.

Here's how I feel about those things: I'd rather cook for you than attend a restaurant. I've done enough of that in my life, many of the greats around the world and I find them now rather boring, if not distracting. I've had enough "long walks on the beach," and to paraphrase Captain Renault to Rick in "Casablanca," "There are no waters in Las Vegas." "Dressing up" is something I can certainly do, however, it's a rare day when I'm not wearing jeans and sandals. While I'm not obese, I'm clearly not "athletically-toned."

That might sound a bit arrogant. However, I don't want any misperceptions about who I am. And I don't want to sound arrogant when I say that if you're seeking a long term relations, a partner, a lover and a friend who's witty, engaging, empathic (perhaps to a fault), well-informed, politically astute, quite artistic (published poet) and who listens, I might be your guy.


15,545,000 radios sold last year,
But that doesn't keep the rain
From falling
On our windshield
To and fro go the wipers
& we are nowhere near
Where we wish to go.
Listen. The radio waves are scribbling
A thousand names
Across the dial
If we had a child,
What would we name it?
Ph.D. I say.
You have to have a Ph.D. to survive.
Give it a number.
Make it ahead of the times.
Whatever happened to Station KDKA?
In the middle of nowhere
We pick up Pittsburgh,
Detroit, Nashville
(AM 14 on your dial)
As far away as Cleveland (AM 13),
Stations that no longer exist,
XTO, San Francisco.
This is the magic radio.
War of the Worlds comes beeping thru.
104,000,000 car radios in use,
& we have the magic one.
Here's to the world!
Ears to the world.
You want a baby you say.
How in the hell can we afford it?
Damn these dark roads.
Listen, there's no sense
Crying about it,
Sit back & listen to the music, baby.
Someone is singing to us
From a long way away.