Wallow, my friends

So I had some nice feedback about yesterday's post.  Thank you all.  One of the questions I received sparked my interest, though, so I wanted to get to it before the thrill is gone, so to speak.

The question comes from "Jake" in Wyoming.  He asks, "Mr. Bachelor, interesting concept about the 'uh-oh' moment, but as a bachelor, how DO you deal with break ups?"

Great question Jake, and thank you for reading.  To answer your question, I think I do generally well when it comes to dealing with break ups.  This comes from years of failure in the romance department and learning to cope with it. 

Oh, man, I think I need a drink

First off, I'm not a stalker.  Sure, it hurts when things go south.  But I never really understood the concept of stalking.  It's like going to a strip club.  You can look, but you can't touch.  To me, that's just frustrating.  Plus, it's all risk and no reward.  At strip clubs you drop a wad of cash just to go home and take a cold shower.  When stalking, the best you can hope for is that you don't end up in jail.

Needless to say, I don't stalk and I don't go to strip clubs.  'Nuff said.  But everyone deals with painful brak ups in their own way.  Some bachelors I know go out and hit the town in an effort to get right back up on the horse.  Others retreat from the world and spiral deep into a depression.  Both work, no judgements here.

It's Not Just Women:

Sometimes, for a bachelor, a bad break up doesn't even have to include a woman.  I'm not talking bromances here, although it does suck when you part ways with a good buddy.  In those instances bachelors usually just leave it alone.  Guys aren't big on dramatic sit-down talks with each other to "has things out."  When bachelors fight, one of two things happen; A) they separate for a while and let things settle down and, eventually get back together.  OR B) They leave it alone, the issue festers and they never talk to each other again.  It's a pretty simple formula and one that has worked for bachelors throughout the centuries.  Why try to fix something that isn't broke?

In my case, I had a particularly bad break up with a job.  I was working at a firm about two weeks before Christmas when the news came down.  I was happy there.  I loved my work, I loved my co-workers and I was really looking forward to the office Christmas party.  I was working in my office (yes, I had an office, woo hoo!) blissfully unaware that the break up was looming right around the corner. 

I think I was putting together media lists as part of a PR campaign I was involved with.  The Vice President, a friend of mine, poked his head in and asked if he could see me.  I had no clue, none whatsoever.  I nearly fell off the chair when the owner told me they were letting me go.  I was crushed, heartbroken, confused.  I didn't even clean out my desk.  I simply said goodbye to a few folks, took the elevator to the lobby of the building and went outside.  I was numb and just sat on a cement planter outside the building.

I remember not believing it, being angry, even crying a little.  It was the worst feeling in the world.  I felt like I had been dumped by a supermodel.  I had to perform in a comedy show that night and I remember wondering how I was going to get through it.  I did, barely.

But that actually turned out to be part of my cure.  I had to perform, I was forced to put on a happy face and get out there and entertain folks and make them laugh.  That helped me in the short term without a doubt. 

I approached that break up (I consider it a break up, even though it was a job) the same way I now deal with any painful break up I go through.  I wallow.

Oh, The Misery:

Yes, you heard me, I wallow.  See, I've found that I can't just rebound like some others and hit the bricks again in search of the next conquest to help me forget about the pain.  It helps to have friends when things go bad.  They're lifesavers, really.

I tend to be one of those that retreat into a cave for a while, only without the depression sprial.  I give myself two weeks, maybe a month to wallow in my misery.  I pine away, I lament my fate, I curse the gods and rail against romance.  I drink, I get drunk, I sleep in.  I listen to sad songs, I cry and eventually I realize how stupid it all is.  During this time, I'll talk with a few close friends, listen to their words of encouragement and have a toast to being a bachelor again.

Eventually, I emerge from my mancave rested and ready to take on all comers.  This sabbattical from civilization serves a couple of purposes.  It helps get past the pain and embarrassment of the break up privately.  There's really nothing worse than having to watch someone deal with a break up publicly.  It's nearly as bad as dealing with a couple that takes advantage of every possible moment to remind everyone that they're a couple and in love and therefore supposedly happier than everyone else.  Some things are private and should remain that way.

The second reason is that, for me at least, it's always easier to deal with a break up if you don't have to see the person who just dumped you.  I know a lot of bachelors that can go through a break up and they'll have coffee with the dumper two days later.  I'm not that guy.  I know it's an immature thing, but I just find that moving past the situation is so much easier when I don't have to see or interact with the one I just broke up with. 

Out of sight, out of mind, I always say.  This also holds true if the bachelor was the one doing the dumping.  The last thing a bachelor wants to deal with is the awkwardness of seeing a former girlfriend when he's trying to make his moves on someone new.  Say what you want, but bachelors DO have feelings.   

Another thing that helps me get past a painful break up is performing.  Like the job break up, performing forces me to raise my spirits, it forces me to be with friends, it forces me to put the break up behind me, if only for a couple of hours on a Friday and Saturday night.

Don't Lose Yourself:

That's why bachelors have hobbies.  Well, that's not the only reason, but it's why bachelors keep their hobbies after entering a relationship.  Because we know that at some point, the relationship will probably end.  If we've dropped everything we used to do before we were in a relationship, we lose a little of who we are.  Plus, if we drop those hobbies, then we have nothing to fall back on when we get our bachelorhood back.

One of the most annoying things about some couples is that they drop their friends and their hobbies when they couple up.  Real bachelors don't do this.  They compartmentalize.  They maintain their regular activities as best they can.  The same for their pre-couple relationships.  It only makes sense because if things go bad, you're going to need those old friends and hobbies.

So there you have it.  Several coping mechanisms to dealing with break ups.  Getting back on the horse, retreating to your cave, drinking heavily, relying on friends and diving back into hobbies.  These are all proven ways to get past the pain.

I wouldn't recommend going out, starting a relationship and getting dumped just so you can try some of these methods out to, you know, see which one works best for you.  Take if from someone who's tried all of these methods, they all work, it just depends on who you are.

On the other hand, sometimes there's nothing better than a good stiff shot of whiskey to forget your troubles, just ask Dean Martin.  Perhaps that's why I always give a bottle of Jack Daniels as a wedding present.  It's not the answer, nor is it a cure, but it sure does help the wallowing.

When it all starts to go wrong

There comes a time in every date, every relationship, every association when you know the end is near.  Maybe it's something you said.  Maybe it's something did.  It doesn't really matter.  You just know, that regardless of what you do from that moment on, there is no coming back, there is no "rescuing" it, there is only an ending.  It's a rare moment of clarity that smacks you in the face and you just know it's over.  The best you can hope for is that it's an amicable parting.

I was having drinks with a friend over the weekend and she proceeded to tell me about one of these moments during one particularly disasterous date.  Now, I have to mention here that my friend does a bit of online dating, and it was during one of these online dates when the "moment" took place.

Sometimes breaking up isn't so hard to do

 It seems that during the date when the conversation turned to dating-age preferences.  The date commented that he generally preferred younger women.  To which my friend blurted out, "Oh, then you'll love a friend of mine, she's only 28."  (a note, my friend is in her late 30's)

Ladies, listen up on this one.  It's never, NEVER a good idea to tell your date that he might be interested in a friend of yours, especially if you're still ON the date.  It just sends the wrong message to your potential love-match.  This instance was no different.  It was at that moment, my friend told me, that she knew this date was kaput.

It's not surprising.  You tell a date that you want to set him up with a friend of yours, and chances are he's going to get the idea that you have already deemed him unworthy to date, and the date will probably take a long downward spiral from there.

I've been involved in a few of those "grrrrrr" moments myself.  I've been told I can be picky, too picky sometimes, I tend to disagree.  However, it can get a little Seinfeldian every now and then.  I'm not talkinga bout breaking up with a hottie because she has "man hands" or laughs like a banshee.  I'm talking about some truly awkward, foot-in-mouth moments that push a relationship or potential relationship over the edge and into the smoldering heap abyss.


Listening Works:

Generally, my moments come when I start talking too much.  I was on a date a few years back, I wasn't nervous, I had known this girl for a little while, we met while we were working together on a public relations campaign.  She looked wonderful, I picked her up, we went to a nice restaurant, the conversation was going smoothly.

At least until we started talking about our lifestyles.  Before she had a chance to chime in, I launched into a littany of things I've done, things I like to do, such as drinking, partying, partaking of more, ahem, hedonistic activities.  For some reason this led to my philosphy on religion.  I know, completely unrelated, but for some reason, I felt the need to unload my issues regarding organized religion at that precise moment. 

By the time I was finished, the salads were done, and the main courses were on their way.  I took a deep breath and apologized for dominating the converstaion.  I was about to take the first bite of my chicken when she calmly looked across at me and said simply, "I'm a devout Catholic."

As you can imagine, that struck me as an "uh oh" moment, the moment when I knew this date was going to end poorly.  It's been a while since I've had such an awkward, painful ride home.  Then there's the time when I was going out with a girl I had been dating to meet friends of mine. 

We had been together for about two months and she hadn't meet any of my friends at the time.  This was  years ago when my friends consisted primarily of radio folks.  We used to meet at a bar just a few blocks from the radio studios for long nights of heavy drinking, smoking and telling awful stories.  I had been nervous about exposing my latest "girlfriend" to this band of rowdies, so I had put it off for as long as I could.  We arrived at the bar and met the group.  I started to introduce her to my friends as my girlfriend.  She seemed okay with this.  At one point another friend showed up late and he sauntered up to us, grabbed me around the shoulders and said, "So this is your new woman eh?"

At that moment I looked at her and something had changed.  In that split second, I knew that one statement was going to be enough to ruin whatever unstable relationship we had built over two months.  True to form, we had a big fight later that night and within a week it was over.

It's Gender Neutral:

So often, it's the bachelors who do something stupid during a date or during the early parts of a relationship.  But ladies, you're not immune to acts that lead to impending doom.  For instance, you might wonder why that guy you liked so much on your first date never called you back.  Or why after dating that hunk for a month, he suddenly decided to move to Antarctica.

Perhaps, and no offense intended, it was you.  Ask any bachelor and they'll all have some true horror stories where the woman wouldn't shut up about their previous boyfriends, or talk about wanting to have six children, and all of this ten minutes into the first date. 

I remember being on a date with a woman I didn't know very well.  I had met her while covering a story, she worked for an opposing television station.  We met for our first date at a nice restaurant.  Within the first ten minutes, she managed to tell me over ten times how much she wanted to be married.  She even described her wedding dress, the dresses of her bridesmaids even the kind of cake she wanted.  I guess you don't have to be a genius to know that date ended quickly, like before dinner started quickly.

Of course, then there's the whopper.  Again, I was going out with a woman who worked at a rival television station.  We met on second base during a softball game.  She was cute, perky, brunette.  I asked her out.  We went out three times and seemed to be really hitting it off.  That is, until our fourth date when, during dinner, she threw this doozy out at me.  "I'm just so glad you're not hung up on the fact that I'm married."

WHAT?!?!  I had no idea.  Apparently, she said, she thought she had mentioned it earlier.  She didn't wear a ring, never said anything about it when I asked her out.  So, no, I was not aware of this fact until that very moment.  I made her pay for her half of the dinner and didn't see her again until months later at a local TV news Emmy Awards event.  She was there with her husband.  I was pissed and embarrassed.  Although lesson learned, at least I make sure to find out those important facts before actually, you know, going out on dates now.

You see, those moments can come at completely unexpected times, completely out of blue.  Most of the times you never see it coming.  And the signs are there, even if they're not verbal.  They can be as overt as your date simply telling you, "You are an awful human being" or as subtle as a glance or their body language.

The point is, it's a minefield out there.  Everything you do or say can be taken wrong or misconstrued by your date or significant other and then, BAM, it's all over.  And there's nothing you can do to make it right.  In these instances, it's best to just cut your losses and move on.

Bachelors have to navigate this minefield every day, each time they head out on a date, whenever they meet a new potential partner.  I know some bachelors who try to put on a persona when dealing with single women.  This works fine when looking for a one time score and done, I mean, as I said previously, I've been a pilot in order to pick up a woman.  This works because the woman will probably never know you well enough to learn the truth. 

But when a bachelor meets someone they're interested enough in to try to schedule a second date, suddenly the landmines become these shadowy, menacing relationship-killers to be avoided at all costs.  The problem is, when bachelors start worrying about the landmines, we stop being the carefree souls women find so darn attractive.

The "Other" uh-oh Moment:

There's one final "uh oh" moment that must be addressed here and it's not a pretty one, but we can't avoid it, we HAVE to discuss it; for the betterment of us all.

I'm talking about the moment when you realize that this isn't just a fling.  It's that morning where you wake up and the first thing on your mind isn't your first cup of coffee, or on the project at work, it's of her.  You break into tiny beads of sweat and start thinking of all the other important issues in your life, like your NCAA bracket, The Masters Tournament, movie explosions.

This might work for a few moments until you realize, in horror, that the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep the night before.  At that point, you realize your bachelor status could be in serious trouble.  The tiny beads of sweat turn into a torrent, fear starts to sieze your very soul, a cold chill runs through your entire body.

Just like when you have that "moment" of impending doom, the moment of impending romance can be just as bad.  You just KNOW it's going to involve a lot of frustration, panick, maybe even pain.  And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.  Just like the landmines that lead to the end of all things, the "uh oh" moment of romance comes out of the blue, it strikes like lightning it sideswipes you like a car running down a pedestrian in the middle of a police chase.

The funny part is, the moment of doom is much easier to take for most bachelors.  Because we know who we are.  We just KNOW that at some point we're going to do something so unbelievably stupid that we're destined to drive off whatever woman we're with at some point.  We've come to expect that, to just write if off to being a bachelor.  We have contingency plans in place, a method for dealing with the ruination, a plan for moving forward. 

But with the other uh oh moment, we're clueless.  We never expect it, we're not looking for it.  Bachelors have no natural defense mechanism for falling in love.  We can try, but we're doomed once the heart takes on a life of its own. 

And that, my friends is when it really all starts to go wrong.

The Best Bachelor's EVER

Not too long ago I was asked how I felt about the current crop of "celebrity" bachelors.  I assumed the question had more to do with the fools on that horrid show, "The Bachelor" than it did with movie star bachelors.  But as I thought about it more, I started to question the entire celebrity bachelor scene and, to be frank, it's very disappointing overall.

 It's good to be the bachelor king...yes it is.

Let's get "The Bachelor" discussion out of the way first.  These aren't bachelors.  They're single guys, looking to get famous, rich and, if they get lucky, get laid.  I know, that sounds like most bachelors you probably know.  But these guys are one of two things, greedy shallow dirtbags, or hopelessly looking for love. 

If they're simply greedy, shallow dirtbags, well, then, I suppose they MIGHT qualify as bachelors, since quality of character isn't necessarily a component of being a bachelor.  They're not GOOD bachelors.  Certainly no one I would want to emulate, but they could be bachelors nonetheless.  Now, if they're guys hopelessly looking for love, and willing to embarrass themselves on national TV to do it, then they are NOT bachelors, they're simply single guys.  Read back to some of my earlier posts.  There's a huge difference between being single and being a bachelor.

To be fair, I've only watched one season of "The Bachelor" and even then it was sporadic viewing and through the spaces in my fingers as I covered my eyes.  It was like a train wreck.  But, I learned a long time ago that my taste in television viewing has little to do with what stays on the air and what doesn't.  (seriously, LOST is still on the air, but Freaks and Geeks was cancelled after a season?  REALLY!)

The whole affair of "The Bachelor" seems unsightly to me.  It's not just the bachelors, it's the long line of airheads and bimbo's that parade through the show.  The whole thing is pathetic to me and I would rather they call the show, "Stupid things single people to do get famous" rather than "The Bachelor."  It gives us all a bad name.

So, there's my take.  Sorry for all you "Bachelor" fans out there.  Hope I didn't offend you. 

Anyway, I started looking at the top ten lists of elegible celebrity bachelors and, to be honest, I didn't recognize half the names on the list.  That's probably because most of them are, like, 21 years old and star in shows I've never seen (like Twilight, Sex in the City and Gossip Girl). 

However, there were a couple that resonated with me, like Jamie Foxx and George Clooney.  I don't know a lot about Jamie Foxx, other than the fact that he's ridiculously talented, but he stays out of the headlines.  George Clooney on the other hand, now THAT'S a bachelor.  He might be my top bachelor of today.  That's a guy I respect as a bachelor.  He has fun, he dates numerous hot women, he drinks, he carouses he enjoys his nightlife.  He is everything a bachelor should be.

So, I'm going to put together my top list of bachelors of all time.  These are guys that embodied what, to me, a bachelor is; smart, funny, gentlemen with a touch of rogue thrown in for good measure.  Sure, some of them were married at one point (like Clooney), but when they were bachelors, they were superstars.  They lived, they had adventures, they bedded beautiful women and they enjoyed the freedom that their riches, talent and good looks brought them.  This is why I don't have a guy like Steve Martin on my list.  Sure, he's one of my idols, but he never really took advantage of being a bachelor. 

So here is my list, in no particular order, of some of the best all-time bachelors ever.  Feel free to add to the list, or hammer me for the selections.  Either way, enjoy!

Carey Grant - Suave, talented and slept his way through Hollywood in his heydays.

Hugh Hefner - Come on, how could I NOT have the grandfather of bachelorhood in this list.

Sean Connery - Tough, rugged, has the great accent.  Drinks like a good Scottsman should.

Johnny Depp - The man is certifiable, crazy, talented and is an epic partier.

John Belushi - The guy died from a drug overdose, but before he died, he was known as the hardest partier in a class all his own.  A fat, unattractive man, he embodies bachelorhood because he never let his flaws get him down, and his list of lovers proves it.

Keith Richards -  Seriously, do I need to put an explanation here?

George Clooney - Explanation in a previous paragraph.  Had he been around in the 60's he'd be a member of the "Rat Pack" no question.

Dean Martin - Speaking of the "Rat Pack" Deano was the heart and soul of that particular group of bachelors.  Forget Old Blue Eyes, Deano was the man when they all got together.  The stories told about him during the filming of the original Oceans Eleven alone qualifies him as a bachelor hall of fame candidate.

Hugh Grant - The man was with the most beautiful woman in the world at one time, and he threw it all away for an ugly hooker.  If that's not bachelor wanderlust, what is?

Joe Namath -  The guy was at his height when he won the superbowl, fur coats, big cigars, money and the metropolis of the world at his feet.  He took advantage of it the way only a true bachelor could.

So there it is.  What do you think?  Agree or disagree, comment and to quote another famous actor, "make my day."

Communication, Bachelor Style

Okay, it has to be said; women, you just don't get it.  Now, dont get upset, this isn't a bash or attack in any way, please understand me.  I'm just saying that when it comes to bachelor communication, you simply don't get it.

He: "Bald is beautiful!"  She: "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

Perhaps this is more of a gender thing, than a bachelor thing, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that bachelors communicate in ways vastly different than non-bachelors.  Bachelorettes, I'm guessing, probably communicate in different ways then their involved or married counterparts.  But, as I'm a guy, I can really only speak to the bachelor side of things.  If you're a bachelorette and can speak to this, please, add a comment and let me know.  It's always nice to hear the female perspective on all things bachelor.

Same Words, Different Language:

It's obvious to anyone over the age of, say, three, that men and women communicate differently to begin with.  But as we grow older and move into bachelorhood, that communications gap seems to grow even larger.  And that difference impacts nearly all aspects of our conversations, from questions, to listening to expressing our feelings (which of course, bachelors NEVER do, right?).

Men aren't necessarily a talkative group.  We often like to talk AT people, not always WITH people.  I'm a good teacher, I do a great job of disseminating information, I tell a good story.  However, I don't always carry on the best of conversations.  I get distratcted easily, I jump around from point to point, sometimes I just don't have anything to add.  It's not that I'm not interested, it's how I'm wired.

As men grow, they develop a kind of silent language that we use.  You've seen it before, I'm sure.  Two men pass on the street, they make eye contact, they acknowledge each other, size each other up, and eventually send a small, polite greeting to each other as they go on their separate way; all without saying a word.  The head nod is simply an accepted form of communication between men.  Men, try doing this to your next girlfriend, or your wife or even your female friends.  I can almost guarantee that you'll immediately be inundated with a series of questions ranging from "what's wrong?" to "why don't you love me anymore?" 

I know it's a cliche, but sometimes cliches, like stereotypes have a basis in reality.  Men can have entire conversations in four sentences or less, and sometimes those sentences don't actually involve words.  Here's an actual phone conversation I had not too long ago with a buddy of mine during a football game.  He called me after a great play, assuming that I was watching the game.

PHONE RINGS:
Me: "Hey"
Him: "Whoa!"
Me: "I KNOW"
Him: "I mean, awesome"
Me: "affirmative grunt"
Him: "Unbelievable!  Later"
Me: "Later"
HANG UP:

Not only did he assume I was watching the game, which I was, he didn't need to get into a full discussion of what had just happened.  Just the simple exclamations were enough to get the point across.  Here's an example of an exchange between a buddy and myself after a particularly nasty argument.

Me: "Dude, sorry"
Him: "It's allright"
Me: "Cool?"
Him: "Yeah...me too."
Me: "Cool."

And this was after a fight that nearly came to blows.  We didn't need to sit down and discuss our feelings or rehash what happened.  We both understood implicitly what took place, and put it behind us.

I think the communication between men/bachelors, or the lack thereof, is one reason why we struggle so much with our communications with women.  Because we have to explain things to women, and not because you don't understand, but because you WANT the explanation.  Having a significant other means having to explain your thoughts, actions and desires, and, frankly, we're neither good at that or experienced with it.

Men struggle with words at times.  We like to use our physicality, we like to use our grunts and clicks and heavy sighs to do our talking for us.  It's easier, mostly because other men understand this ancient man-code.  The problem is, even though we know women don't understand it, we insist on doing it anyway.   Sometimes the best we can do as bachelors is to whistle at an attractive woman, or stare at her as she passes by.  To bachelors it's our primitive way of showing approval and attraction.  Be honored, soak it in, know that the bachelor isn't TRYING to be a louse, he's just trying to tell you, in his own painful way that he thinks you're attractive and would like to get to know you over a candlelit Italian dinner and a bottle of Cabarnet; without, you know, using so many words to express it.

Cruel to be Kind:

In some ways, though, bachelors never grow out of their childlike actions when it comes to communicating.  Remember that one boy that used to pull your hair in school, or be mean to you for seemingly no reason?  Chances are, that boy liked you, but probably couldn't express it with his words. 

Even the most well-spoken bachelor can revert to this childlike action when trying to express feelings and emotions and other uncomfortable things to others.  For instance, guys will express friendship with other men by being mean sometimes.  This isn't the WWE version of a bromance, just little things like punching in the shoulder, or pushing buttons or giving a sarcastic dig.  This works with other men/bachelors because we're used to it.

What we don't realize, though, is that that form of communication doesn't work very well when it comes to women, friends or otherwise.  I'm not excusing bachelors, I'm just pointing out why it happens sometimes.  We even fight differently, and I'm not talking fisticuffs.

Men, bachelors in particular just don't know how to fight with a woman.  When we fight with our fellow bachelors, we fight to win.  It's usually a no-holds barred event that borders on verbal warfare.  This, by the way to all you bachelors out there, is NOT the way to fight with a woman.  Generally, women don't fight to win, they fight because there is a problem they want to resolve.  Bachelors, on the other hand, fight because they feel attacked and therefore it's a win or lose situation. 

When it comes to fighting, though, women do something that always, ALWAYS, drives bachelors nuts; they dredge up the past.  Ladies, if you want to absolutely enrage your fellow, bring up past actions and watch him melt into an apoplectic mess.  Bachelors have no defense for this tactic.  It's not a tactic generally used by other men or bachelors, so we're just not very experienced with how to defend against it.  When bachelors fight or argue, it's about the topic at hand.  When women fight or argue, it's about a situation and everything that goes with it.

Here's another hint, ladies, one sure way to drive a stake through the heart of any bachelor is to simply hang up or walk away from a fight or argument.  Once again, that is a tactic rarely, if ever used by bachelors against other bachelors.  We like to finish our fights.  By simply walking away or hanging up, you confuse and anger us even more.  When that happens, we honestly don't have a clue about what to do. Seriously, no clue.

It's About Us:

In the end, most communication for bachelors is about ego.  We WILL talk on the phone with you, as long as it's about us, or something we care about, and even then, we're probably itching to get off the phone as quickly as possible so we can do something important like watch the latest "Funny or Die" video or watch that action adventure, everything-blows-up-with-scantily-clad-women-as-damsel-in-distress movie.

We will listen to you, but then we won't understand why you get upset when we try to help or find solutions to your problem.  When our buddies call with problems, they want our help.  So we don't understand why you don't.  I mean, most bachelors will hang up on that kind of conversation wondering why in the world you called if you didn't want his help and will be confused as to why you are now mad at him.

We don't want to hear about your latest boy problem, ladies.  Nor do we want to hear about your dating woes.  That's what you have girlfriends for, right?  When you talk to us about your dating issues or the men you're having problems with in your life, it tells the bachelor that he's like your girlfriend, not a real man, not worthy of your attention in a romantic way.  The funny part is, we don't even have to be attracted to you to feel slighted by this action. 

Because bachelors like to be seen as a sexual entity, a threat to other men, a man worth fretting over.  Just because we're not intimately or romantically involved with you doesn't mean we don't want to be considered as worthy as the man you're spending hours on the phone complaining about.  Sure we'll listen, but we won't be happy about it.

These, of course, are generalities, and the thoughts of one bachelor.  But be assured, that I'm speaking on behalf of many bachelors out there who are probably doing a little happy dance right now.  Ladies, if you want to catch a bachelor's attention, if you want to have open and full communications with him, talk about him and things he's interested in.  He'll reciprocate, trust me.  And don't get offended when he says something stupid.  We're men, that's what we do. 

Oh, and if your bachelor sees you and gives you the silent head nod, don't freak out.  Simply nod back and punch him in the shoulder.  He'll love you forever.

The Pressure

I'm going to rant here a little.  Okay, not so much of a rant, as it is a...well, okay, I guess it's a rant.  But before I get to that, I have an announcement.  I know a number of you have commented to me personally that you haven't been able to comment on the posts.  Blogger is strange that way.  Unless you're a registered user of Blogspot, or have a gmail account, you can't make posts.  At least that was what I though until I went through my settings, DETERMINED to find a way to change that.  And I did.

Note from Management:  Now that the settings have been changed, If you ever want to comment on any of these posts, please do so.  You should be able to now.  Please let me know if you still have problems posting replies or comments.  Email me at cdgallegos01@earthlink.net to let me know if the problem isn't fixed.  Thank you...that is all.  We now return you to your regularly scheduled rant, already in progress.


...and THAT'S when she slapped me, right in the face.  It was unbelieveable!  

Ahhh, there's NOTHING like being the only bachelor at a couples dinner...grrrrr.

Sorry, I just had to do that.  Although the message posting thing HAS been taken care of, so that's all good.  But seriously, back to the rant.  I recently did an improptu stand-up the other night at a seedy little bar called "The Lion's Lair".  I have a great story about that place.  Actually, I now have TWO great stories about that place.  The first one happened a few years back when I was still working at KUSA.  My apologies for my friends who've already heard this one, but it's just such a fun story to tell.

The Lair, Part I

I was doing some freelance work for a friend of mine who ran her own public relations firm.  We scored some tickets to a Barenaked Ladies concert at Fiddler's Green; backstage passes, VIP lounge, all the fun stuff.  During the show we ran into a friend of hers, a writer for a local paper, who also happened to be in a punk rock band.  He invited us to see him at a punk rock show at the Lair and a week later, I found myself walking into a bar on West Colfax to watch some good old fashioned punk rock.

My buddy and I headed right for the bar (which is what any good bachelor would do).  He started out fast, with a dirty martini and a beer chaser.  I hit my usual, a jack and coke.  The music was average, nothing great.  There were four bands playing the tiny space.  It was dark and smoky (before smoking was banned inside) and smelled funky.  It wasn't too crowded, though and no one was causing trouble, yet. 

One of the bands was an all-girls punk rock band, they were okay.  The best of the bunch, though was a band featuring a female singer backed by three scraggly-looking guys with long hair and questionable hygiene.  The female lead was pretty, shapely, wearing a short skirt and looking grungy without looking dirty, if that's possible.  I was drawn to her right away, and not just because of the four J&C's I'd had by the time they played.  We met eyes at one point when she was singing and I knew I had to talk to her.

After she performed, she was mobbed by a bunch of guys across the bar from where we were sitting.  She was laughing and chatting, but she kept looking over at me.  My buddy, meanwhile was now face down on the bar, not quite unconscious, but close.  The evening was coming to a close, and as people began filtering away from her, she leaned over to the bartender and whispered something in his ear.  A minute later, I had a brand new Jack and Coke in front of me.

That was it, I had to talk to her now.  I sauntered over to where she was sitting and told her I thought she was great onstage.  I realized pretty quickly, she was fairly tipsy, which was okay, because I was too.  We chatted for a little bit, until the lights came up and the bartender started kicking people out.  Time was short, so I asked her out, she said yes.  I was just about to get her phone number when a small brunette walked past, heading to the bathrooms. 

This girl was one of the members of the all-girls group.  She said something in passing to the girl I had just asked out.  I won't repeat it here, because, well, it wasn't nice.  Not nice at all.  The girl I was talking to didn't miss a beat.  She went from, "I'd love to go out with you, hold on, I'll give you my number" to "Give me a second honey."  At which point she leapt off her barstool and onto the back of the brunette and commenced pummelling her on the barroom floor. 

I was stunned.  I didn't know what to do.  Should I break them up?  Should I just stand there and watch two, albeit attractive women, roll around on the floor pulling hair, cursing and scratching each other?  My conscience got the better of me and I started to make a move to break the fight up.  At which point the bartender touched my shoulder and said simply, "No, dude, let them go".  Which I did.  The bartender offered to take my number and give it to the girl after the fight.  I thought about it for a second, but declined.  I left the bar, without her number and not knowing who won the fight (my bet was on my girl, not the tiny brunette). 

The Lair, Part Duex:

Fast forward a few years to Monday night where I found myself in a crowded bar, not smoky this time, for an open mic. night.  15 or 20 stand-ups from all over were hitting the stage, with varying degrees of success.  I went because I had some friends participating, and I knew the hosts, who I hadn't seen in a while and I wanted to catch up.

When I got there, I realized I knew about five people going up that night.  I went my usual route with the Jack n Coke and sat back, waiting to be amused.  My friends did a great job.  Some of the others, not so much, but hey, the show was free and it WAS an open mic., so what did I expect?  At one point, my friend, one of the hosts, asked me if I was going up.  Not thinking, I said okay.

Now listen, I'm not a stand up guy.  I do improv, which is completely different.  But I'm pretty good thinking on my feet and, even though I had absolutely NO material (that's what standups call their jokes, matierial), I figured I couldn't do worse than some of the others I'd seen so far.

I got up there, I wasn't nervous, and I started talking about being a 40-year old bachelor, more precisely, about the pressure of being a 40-year old bachelor. 

I'm not going to rehash what I said, because, frankly, I don't remember it all.  Not because I was drunk, but because sometimes performing can be a blur.  You get up, you get out there, you do your thing, you don't think about it, and afterwards, it all seems unreal.  You don't always remember what you did, only how you felt about it.  I wasn't embarrassed, that's the best I can say about my performance.

Once Again, Suck it, Couples:

Anyway, I was talking about the pressure of being a bachelor.  Society expects people to get married at some point in their lives.  Statistics prove that a great number of people never get married, have kids or move to the suburbs.  But societal pressure I can deal with.  I'm a non-comformist anyway.  But what really bugs me is the pressure from my couple friends and, in particular, family pressures.

I'm an only child, so at least I don't have any brothers or sisters to add to that pressure.  But I have cousins, a few of which are married and happily popping out babies like tic-tacs.  My mother is even starting to get on my case, dropping little hints here and there.  She'll say things in passing like, "(heavy sigh) I guess I'll never have grandchildren to spoil, will I?" 

What do I say to that?  How do I even begin to respond?  It's nearly as bad as my couples friends trying to set me up on dates as they say things like, "You're too good a guy to not be married," or "Why aren't you in a relationship, you'd be happier if you had a girlfriend."  Seriously, I've been told this.

I get my mother giving me pressure.  She wants grandchildren.  I'm not sure why anyone wants to be called grandma, but apparently mothers look forward to that kind of thing.  But why, why, WHY can't couples just leave bachelors alone?  What is it in their DNA that insists that everyone be involved in a relationship?

We're perfectly fine being bachelors.  Remember, it's the "singles" that are constantly looking for a relationship, not the bachelors.  If it happens, then fine.  But I promise, if I'm ever in a relationship, I won't be that guy that keeps pushing my bachelor friends to find "the one".  In fact, I'll probably be looking longingly at their freedom and committment free life. 

I suppose that's why I always give a bottle of Jack Daniels as wedding gifts with a note attached saying, "Do not open until divorce."  Yes, it's offended some people, but I find it funny, and one of the great things about being a bachelor is the freedom to be completey selfish.  It's all about me, deal with it.

So, gather around, bachelors.  You don't have to avoid your couples friends, just remind them from time to time that most relationships end up as complete disasters.  Tell them that you'll be there for them when their marriage goes down in flames like the Hindenburgh.  Let them know that your freedom isn't worth trading to simply be in a relationship. 

As for the parents.  I've just come to the point where I tell my mom that if I'm still single at 50, I'll ocassionally rent an African orphan and hand it off to her, so she can get her grandma fix from time to time. 

Ahhh, that feels better.  I already have enough pressures from bill collectors, society and failed expectations.  It's nice to be able to rid myself of the pressures of being in a relationship.  One pressure down, twenty more to go. 

Bachelors Make Passes at Girls With Glasses

Okay, so I've received a lot of grief over the years for my dating habits.  I'm too aggressive, I'm not aggressive enough, I can't commit, I'm a stalker, I have bodies in my basement..whatever (truth be told, those aren't all true.  I have no problem committing if the situation is right).  But what I get called on the most is that I tend to date women much younger than I am.  There's no particular reason for this, it's apparently just how I'm wired. 

Hey there, yeah you...I'm keeping an eye on you.

Let's face it, every bachelor and bachelorette, every one of us, has certain types that we go for.  For some women, they just love the bad boys.  For others, they like the athletic types.  I'm looking for the woman who enjoys the "Buddah/sumo wrestler" type.  I've always said, if I lived in japan, I'd be a sex symbol, but alas, I don't.  Oh well.

I was talking to a friend the other night, rehashing my most recent Saturday night outing.  I went to a preview night for a club opening in LoDo in Denver.  Free bottle service, pumping music, young men and women dancing until the sun comes up, you know, the typical club scene.  There were short skirts, fake boobs, hot waitresses and mirrors everywhere, just in case one of the pretty people wanted to see how good they looked as they danced.  And trust me, the mirrors got a lot of use that night.

As I'm relating the evening's activities, I lamented that my friend should have been there.  To which she replied, and I'm paraphrasing here, "No, I'm more of a jeans and tennis shoes girls, and those girls are all high heels and short skirts."  Upon reflection, I suppose this is true.  But a part of me wondered, why it had to be that way.

The girl who had invited me to the club is an attractive woman, tall, slender, great legs, etc.  She was decked out on Saturday, looked great, along with many of the other women there that night.  But, and we've had arguments about this (well, not so much arguments as they were somewhat heated discussions), she is what I call high-maintenance. 

And there it is:

It's been said.  I called it out.  There are high-maintenance women, and there are non high-maintenance women.  This generally goes the way of conversations that begin with, "all women are crazy, but..."  Some embrace it, others rail against it like Hamlet blathering on about "shuffling off this mortal coil."  The Bachelor Diaries are nothing if not honest, and so when it comes to women, it has to be said, high-maintenance women are a pain in the ass.

So what defines a high-maintenance woman?  There is no dictionary definition.  I'm not even sure there's an agreed upon definition among men.  Like a good Senator once said about porn, "I know it when I see it," it's the same thing; we know it when we see it. 

For instance, I could point out someone like, say, Paris Hilton, and proclaim, AHA, she is high maintenance.  I'm not sure I'd get an argument on that one, despite the fact that none of us knows her personally.  I have my own definitions, which, I suppose, is just an awkward way of saying, here comes another list.  So here goes.

The High Maintenance Woman:

1.  Can't go anywhere without first putting on makeup
2.  Refuses to be seen in public without "looking perfect"
3.  Demands constant attention
4.  Is highly judgemental
5.  Needs constant validation (I love you, you look great, you're wonderful, etc.)
6.  Freaks out over small things (tends to blow things out of proportion like forgetting birthdays, a   
     stain on a blouse, a slow waiter, etc.)

There are other elements, I'm sure when it comes to defining what classifies as high-maintenance.  Listen, I'm not saying these are bad things, necessarily.  There are some men who absolutely adore women who I would consider high-maintenance.  There's also a challenge factor involved.  High-maintenance women generally make men jump through hoops and work three times as hard for their attention.  Frankly, I'm just too old to jump through hoops anymore.  I've played that game, it gets tiring.

A point of contrast here.  One of the women I went to the club with that night was a woman I've known for nearly 15 years.  She was beautiful, funny and smart when I knew her in college.  She continues to be those things even today.  But there are multitudes of beautiful, funny, smart women out there.  Not all of them, though, are as comfortable in a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms as they are in high heels and an expensive dress.  The other woman with me was with her husband.  Laid back is perhaps the best word I can use to describe these two. 

They let each other do their own thing.  Even raising children, getting used to living in a new town, dealing with a wound up dog, they still manage to be down to earth, non-presumptuous, non high-maintenance people I know.  They have one of those marriages that gives hope to bachelors that real solid relationships are still possible.

Finding a balance:

I'm not saying I want to date a woman who is a big of a slob as I am.  That would likely be disasterous.  But I have to say, that I'm always shocked when women say they're surprised a man would find them attractive after they've just worked out and are still in their sweats.  Because that's when a man really gets a handle on what a woman looks like.

Hair pulled back, no makeup, dressed in loose, baggy sweats and sweatshirt, glasses on in full display. That can still be attractive.  I guess what I'm saying is this; women, you don't always have to be dolled up to be attractive.  There's nothing hotter to me at times, than a woman in comfy sweats and slippers, hair just down, or even in a pony tail, wearing their glasses, reading a book on the couch.

If you haven't figured out by now, I think girls with glasses are hot.  I know, a lot of women think they look awful in them, but ask around and you'll discover I'm not alone.  Go ahead, I dare you.  Ask your friends, take a random poll of men on the street.  You might be surprised how many men find glasses on women to be hot.

So go ahead women.  Celebrate your freedom from high fashion.  Dress down.  Wear your glasses with pride.  Trust that you don't need to go all Tammy Fay Baker with the makeup to be attractive.  You also might find that the kind of man you attract is a better breed of bachelor.  One that's not solely focused on how you look in a fancy evening dress or in the little black skirt.  Of course, the added bonus, for the bachelor at least, is that if they find you attractive in the sweats and jeans and tennis shoes, they'll be absolutely floored when you DO get decked out for a night on the town.

Just don't forget to wear the glasses.

Sensitive-Pony-Tail-Guitar-playing Dude

Let's face it, as bachelors, we have a lot of leeway regarding our appearance, our activities and our decisions.  Yes, if we go overboard, we'll anger a few folks, but by and large, if we act a little immature or do something incredibly boneheaded, people will just look at us and shake their heads and say something like, "Well, he's a bachelor, what do you expect?"

It's as if not being partnered is equivalent to having a rare incurable disease that gives us a pass on certain things.  "Oh, you have cancer?  Then I'm sorry, I should have known my child was playing in the street when you ran him down in your Buick, entirely my fault, carry on."

Why, women?  Why encourage these guys?

Okay, I exaggerate...a little...but one of the perks of being a bachelor is also being able to take on multiple personalities while out at the bars and clubs.  To date, in my years as a bachelor, I have been an English writer, a German, an Irishman, a pilot, a vetrinarian, a the lead singer of an up and coming rock n roll band.  It's fun to be different people sometimes.  It's harmless fun, given that I've been with, apparently, an airline stewardess, a lawyer, a doctor, a dance instructor and a helicopter pilot.  I have no idea if these women were actually any of these things, and really, I don't care. 

On Wednesday, I met some friends at a bar in downtown Denver.  I was a little cash-strapped and was astounded when my buddy called me to tell me that there was a ten-dollar cover to get into the bar.  Undaunted, I boarded the free shuttle on the 16th Street Mall and rode the six blocks up to the Irish bar.  I was already a few Irish whiskey shots into my night and so, emboldened by liquid courage, I approached the doorman and confidently told him I had arrived. 

As expected, he looked at me with a blank expression and simply said, "Cover is ten dollars, please."  To which I responded, looking harried and tipsy, "I'm scheduled to sing 'Danny Boy' at 10 pm, do I still have to pay?" The blank look changed to confusion.  Before he could say anything I continued, "I've been hitting bars all night singing the song, once every hour, I'm on a tight schedule."  I waited, wondering if he'd call me on my fib, as a line of drunky patrons lined up behind me.  I was prepared, though, to sing if I had to.  After a few seconds that felt more like an hour, he waved me through, leaning into the cashier and yelling, "He's with the band". 

I walked in confidently, ten dollars saved, ready to get my drink on.  It was a good night.  This isn't the first time I've avoided lines and covers by being a "performer" or with the band, or stage crew or roadie.  I once got into a concert at the Fillmore in Denver by pretending to be a stagehand.  I walked up early to the equipment truck, approached one of the techs and told him I was one of the temps assigned to help out with loading and unloading.  Knowing that bands often hire local hands to help with that kind of work paid off for me and I got to see a great show, hang with the bands and I drank free all night. 

A lot of it is in how you carry yourself.  There is some truth to the adage that if you do something confidently, as if you know what you're doing, people will often leave you alone.  Of course you have to be ready to back up your words if necessary.  I worked hard during the Fillmore concert, moving speakers and unloading seemingly tons of equipment.  And on Wednesday, I was more than ready to sing "Danny Boy" if called to do so.

For some bachelors, this kind of personality adopting behavior becomes ingrained, it becomes who they are.  In some cases, they actually begin to take on the personality traits of the kind of person they want to be.  Some become bad boys, gruff and ornery.  Others become mysterious, even others become the life of the party.  In some ways these might be mere extensions of their true personalities, just taken to an extreme when cruising the bars. 

I'm okay with this.  I mean, who am I to judge, right?  But there is one personality type that really bugs me, and not just because I can't really pull it off.  No, it bothers me because it's so...pretentious, so smarmy, so, well, annoying.

I'm talking about senstive pony tail guitar playing dude.  First, I can't pull off a pony tail.  Second, I'm not all that sensitive.  Third, I can't play guitar.  Strike three, I'm out.  Not that I wouldn't grow my hair long and put it in a pony tail if I could.  I just can't.  I've always wanted long, rock n roll hair, but my hair doesn't grow that way.  It grows up and out, like an afro.  It's wavy and unmanageable when it gets long and it's annoying.  And while I've always wanted to learn how to play guitar, it's just never happened, despite the five guitar-lesson apps on my iPhone and the three books on learning to play guitar gathering dust on my bookshelves.

I also don't quote poetry.  I've tried, it just doesn't work.  I know my Shakespeare, I'm a well read individual, I just don't really know poetry.  I never got into it, and outside of a few Dr. Suess poems and half of one Robert Frost poem, along with the Walt Whitman verses I picked up from a few recent commerials, I'm pretty poetry ignorant. 

I can't tell you why that particular kind of bachelor bothers me so much.  I think perhaps because it seems unnatural to me.  These guys are usually really skinny, which irks me to begin with, they're often cultural snobs, "I don't watch TV, it's the downfall of our society..."  Really?  Terrorism, Aids, murder, greed, those all take a backseat to television?  Whatever you say, idiot.

They just don't seem like, men, to me.  They're usually more effeminate than many women, they eschew many of the things I really enjoy and most of them adore soccer.  In other words, the're Colin Ferrell or Val Kilmer, but without the acting ability or bank account.  In blunter terms, they're douches.

Here are the bachelor types I look up to:  Sean Connery, John Wayne, Carey Grant.  These were men.  They could be sensitive when they had to be, but also tough as nails when called upon.  They were complex and vulnerable while never giving up their manly side. 

I'm not bagging on guys that play guitar.  I wish I could.  And pony tail guys aren't awful, although I do get a little hair envy now and then.  I'm not even hammering guys that can quote poetry, it's even cool when used correctly, like during a toast or at funerals.

It's just when you combine all those ingredients together you get a guy I'd like to pummell while wearing one of their oh-so-clever tshirts that say something like "Kill Your TV" or "My Other Girlfriend is Scully".  And yes, I know this is classic behavior of a person lashing out because they're threatened.  Am I threatened by pony tail douche, err...dude?  Maybe.  They're the embodiment of everything I'm not, really. So, maybe out of confusion or fear, I dislike them.  I suppose it's safe to say that I shouldn't be among the first to greet the aliens when they make first contact. 

I'd like to think I'd be calm enough and reasonable enough to greet them with open arms and put my fear and confusion behind me.  Of course, as a bachelor, I'd be hoping that they'd be beautiful alien women with long legs and jet black hair.  Kirk-worthy alien women with high libido's. 

With my luck they'll all be dudes, sporting pony tails with guitars strapped to their back, spouting alien poetry.  Just my luck.

A St. Patrick's Day Special

Top O' The...ummmm...afternoon, to ya!  I have to say, it's been a relatively mellow St. Paddy's Day for me, not the usual revelry and carousing that normally goes into this day for me.  As holidays go, I realize that most of the world treats St. Patrick's Day as a giant excuse to go out, wear green, drink green drinks and get hammered. 

Ahh, the lasses enjoying a few pints of "sexy juice" on St. Patrick's Day, beautiful

 For me, well, I never need an excuse to throw back a few pints, but St. Patrick's Day is a great day to celebrate life as a bachelor.  In case you missed it a few entries earlier, let me explain to you where I place this holiday in the pantheon of great holidays.

1.  Halloween
2.  St. Patrick's Day
3.  New Year's Eve

That's right, it's number two with a bullet and standing fast.  To be honest, it's a virtual tie with New Year's Eve, but because St. Patrick's Day comes without the burden of expectations, it wins by a clover. 

For some reason, St. Patrick's Day has always embodied what it means to be a bachelor.  For one day, there are no problems, there aren't deadlines or bills or responsibilities.  There's only friends and Irish Whiskey and pretty girls in short green skirts.  It's the time of year when the weather starts to turn from bitter cold to warm and inviting.  It's a rebirth, a clean slate, a time of dreams without end.

Whoa, deep.  But this is why St. Patrick's Day is one of my "High Holy Holidays".  There's tradition involved with St. Paddy's.  There are toasts and drinks to loved ones lost and those still near.  Traditional dinners, time spent with friends. 

St. Patrick's Day is the day I got my tattoo with a wonderful woman I met after a particularly difficult time in my life.  She worked for the New York Times, out of the Denver bureau.  Her name was Katie.  She provided a lot of comfort while I was dealing with a painful breakup.  One day, on St. Patrick's Day, she calls me up and says, "I'm getting a tattoo, you want to go with me and get one, too?" 

See, we had had this conversation.  About tattoos and the best brand of whiskey and why smoking cigs is hot and the best Alec Baldwin movie (and you thought journalists just sat around arguing politics and world events).  Sure, we talked about important stuff too.  But we'd had the tattoo talk and, by God, she was going to get her tattoo on that particular St. Patrick's day. 

We both knew what kind of tattoo we would be getting.  Mine was the old CU Buffalo logo (long story, don't ask) and she was going to get a four leaf clover on her wrist.  We got to the Tattoo parlor, one we were both familiar with, and signed up for a room.  We spent about 20 minutes browsing through the tattoo books, talking about what other tattoos would look good on our living canvas and then it was time. 

I won't get into the actual tattooing, it was uneventful.  But I remember, at one point, I was sitting there and watching her get her tattoo, preparing to get mine, and I was thinking what a wonderful way to remember a St. Patrick's Day.  The freedom of getting ink, doing what we wanted, when we wanted.  No rules, no one looking over their glasses with that tsk tsk look in their eyes.  We had nowhere to  be, nothing to do but sit and get our tats.

Afterwards, we acted like giddy children on Christmas morning.  It was the first tattoo for both of us and somehow we felt a kinship, a bond as if we had just gone through some kind of adult rite of passage together.

We immediately headed over to a bar across the way called Street's Of London.  It was beautiful day, middle of the afternoon, around 3pm, and the sun was out.  The breeze was blowing and the Guinness was cold.  We sat on the patio and drank slowly, knowing we were committing a definite no-no by drinking after a tattoo and feeling positively empowered by doing so (I mean it says RIGHT THERE in the little pamphlet they give you in bold letter, "Do Not Drink Alcohol" so, of course, we broke that rule right away).

After all, it WAS St. Patrick's Day.  How could you NOT throw back a few drinks, right?  At some point, a woman walked by with a dog.  I don't remember what kind of dog it was.  I think it was a poodle of some kind.  I remember it was white.  Maybe it was a beagle.  Honestly, I don't remember much about the do other than it was a puppy.  It was cute, it was cuddly, it was the kind of dog a bachelor takes for a walk in the park specifically to attract the attention of hot, single women.  We fussed and fawned over the dog for a few minutes and then the lady and her puppy were gone and our conversation turned to dogs of our own.

I think at that point we both realized that we were two ships passing in the night.  We were both at different places in our lives.  I was ten years older than she was and I was starting a new business.  She was the youngest reporter for the New York Times bureau division and had big things in her future.  We knew, despite our talk of getting a dog and raising it as our own, that it was never going to happen.  We understood that at that moment in our lives, we were good for each other.  We both needed each other to help us relieve pains, and build confidence to move forward with our lives. 

We had a few more drinks and we got drunk and we had a great day.  But then it was over.  Maybe it was the catharsis of the tatto experience.  Maybe it was the fantasy of the dog conversation, whatever it was, we never really saw each other after that day.  We chatted, very briefly afterwards a few times, but then, slowly, drifted apart.

This little tale was not meant to make anyone sad, or anything quite so heavy.  It really was a walk down memory lane for me.  But it was also a way to illustrate something that I think bachelors understand implicitly.  Not all relationships are meant to be.  The hardest ones to get over are the ones you were CERTAIN would work out.  But as bachelors we have the luxury of turning to a variety of options when things get rough.  They can be faceless strangers, they can be very special people, angels, who enter our lives for a short period of time and then move on, their job done. 

I'd like to think I did as much for her as she did for me that St. Patrick's Day and few months leading up to that day.  As a bachelor, maybe that's why I enjoy holidays like St. Paddy's and Halloween and New Year's Eve.  It's a day to let go of whatever burdens or pains you may have and go out and simply enjoy life.  That's so much easier to do when you're a bachelor.  You can go out and make a connection, be it harmless, platonic or carnal. 

I have similar stories to tell about Halloween and New Year's Eve, but I'll get to those when it's appropriate.  In the meantime, I will go out tonight and carouse and look for adventures and future stories to tell.  Because that's the essence of being a bachelor; adventure, stories, life.  And what better way to celebrate all of that than making a toast to old and new friends, drinking some whiskey and honoring the memory of a man who allegedly pied-pipered the snakes out of Ireland?  Enjoy, friends.  See you on Thursday.

The Perfect Woman

Oh, wow, I have a feeling I'm about to dig myself deep into a hole on this one.  But I have no choice.  I'm pulling out another question from the Bachelor Diaries Mailbag, and boy, this one's a doozy.  Erin from Omaha (okay, I don't think she's really from Omaha, but I just like saying that, it sounds like one of those old time radio deejays reading request dedications, but I digress) asks this question:

"Dear Bachelor, are bachelors more forgiving of women not having perfect bodies?"

I've been mulling this question around in my head for a bit, wondering exactly how to answer this one without incurring the wrath of women everywhere.  I'm not sure if I've succeeded, but I'm going to give it a shot anyway.

First, I have to tell you that, as always, these are my opinions, and in no way scientifically proven.  I am basing my answer on my own experiences as well as the opinions of scores of other bachelors I've known throughout the years.  So, you know, take it as you will.

Still trying to figure out how this is attractive...

Let me say to every woman out there reading this, all you bachelorettes, married women, single women, all of you; men are way more forgiving of your bodies than you are or ever will be.  I've been a guy my entire life, and I can't remember one conversation, not one, single discussion that I've had with other men, be they bachelors or otherwise, that involved this phrase, "Yeah, she's cute, but it's those extra five pounds that I just can't live with."


An Informal Poll:

Can men be critical of women who are larger, or even curvy?  Sure, you betcha.  But hey, guess what, women are just as critical of men who are larger, perhaps even moreso.  So, for those of you who are obsessing with your weight, just stop it.  Because, in the end, most of the pressure comes from other women, not men.

Over the years, I have also done an informal poll with many, many men, generally while discussing women over copious beers.  I've asked them to describe their perfect woman.  I can honestly tell you that in over ten years I have never seen or heard a man point to one of the magazine covers with the rail-thin waify models and say, "THAT'S the perfect woman!" 

In other words, women, stop looking at the magazine covers and thinking you have to look like that in order to attract a man.  It's a futile quest for most.  Besides, as has been proven, many of those magazine women are airbrushed to look that way. 

What's difficult about this question is that I'm trying to describe beautiful, or perfect, when, in reality, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.  If I had a dime, no, make that a penny, for every time I heard a woman complain about "those last five pounds," or that her breasts are too small or that her hair isn't exactly the way she thinks it should be, I'd be a millionaire.  Seriously, a millionaire. 

Now, here's the bad news.  Men are pigs.  When it comes to sex, bachelors are a driven breed.  We like eye candy.  An attractive woman is worth going after, and we'll sleep with them if we can.  But you have to remember that what is attractive to me, isn't necessarily attractive to the guy sitting next to me.  Plus, just because we want to have sex with a woman doesn't mean that they're the "perfect woman" for us. 

I have the very good fortune of knowing many, many very attractive women.  I get to perform with them, I get to hang out with them, I get to spend time with them and know them on a level many others don't and never will.  If given the opportunity, I'd do my bachelor duty and sleep with them, most of them at least, if I could.  Are any of these women the "perfect woman" for me?  Who knows?  But my actions speak more about me as a man-pig than it does about the perfection or imperfections of their bodies.

Here's the good news:

A perfect body is NOT a prerequisite to being the "perfect woman" for a man.  Therefore, men, even bachelors will always be more forgiving of a woman's body than women are themselves.  For instance, I'm a leg guy.  I prefer brunettes, followed by redheads and then blondes.  I like a woman who looks like a woman, you know, with some womanly curves, so I've never been a fan of the whole heroine-chic look. 

But that just covers the physical side of things for me.  I have a whole other list of things that attract me to a woman.  They have to be smart.  They have to be funny.  They have to be able to at least sit through a baseball game (at the stadium).  They have to love music.  They have to have ambition and goals.  They have to be witty.  They have to be able to fight with me and then be able to make up afterwards.  They have to be able to put up with my B.S. and push me, challenge me, support me.

I don't know that my list is much different from most men I know, young or old.  Because in the end, most men want a partner, not just a sex-buddy.  Sure, we may point to a Gillian Anderson, or Zooey Deschanel or Jennifer Aniston and pant heavily before wiping the drool from out chins thinking about one night alone with any of them.  I mean, I have a whole "hot tub" list (courtesy of my friend Mere, who introduced me to the whole hot tub game in the first place).  Maggie Gyllenhal (sic), Jeanine Garafalo, Bernadette Peters, all beautiful women, all in my hot tub, but are any of them my perfect woman?  Again, probably not.

Now, even more good news, women.  Men DO change.  Seriously, we do.  When we're younger, mostly all we care about is the physical aspect of a woman.  We're so caught up in how a woman looks, when we're 21, 24, 27, that we miss out on a lot of great women who we could have solid, long lasting relationships with. 

But that starts to change, particularly for bachelors, as we get up there in age.  We start to recognize and truly appreciate the things in a woman and potential partner that we would have missed a few years earlier.  I can only speak for myself, but as I've grown older, I've noticed women I would not have even given a second glance at ten years ago. 

Overall, I suppose the Bachelor Diaries would ask this of women.  Be patient, and stop trying to be one of those models on the magazines.  Certainly some, maybe even many, bachelors put a lot of stock into looks, we all do, I guess.  But as bachelors get older and wiser, we DO grow up a bit and start to see the person behind the long legs and huge rack. 

As Stuart Smalley said, "You're good enough, you're smart enough and goshdarn it, people like you!"
Until tomorrow, take care all you bachelor's and bachelorettes.  Remember, St. Patrick's Day is upon us.  So go enjoy yourselves and keep the bachelor spirit alive and kicking.

Mrs. Right vs. Mrs. Right Now

There are a lot of misconceptions about bachelors.  We're all slobs, we're all broken in some way, we are incapable of committing to a stable relationship, we're gay.

I suppose that's one of the reasons why I started this blog; to clear up the myriad of falsehoods circulating about bachelors.  So, yes, I might be a slob at times.  But I'm not broken (although some may argue that), I believe I'm more than capable of being in a stable relationship and I'm certainly not gay (not that there's anything wrong with that...gotta love Seinfeld). 

Oh, Zooey, will you be my Mrs. Right?  No?  Ummmm...okay, then.

Today won't be offering a top ten list, or tips or anything like that.  Today is a look at bachelors and love.  I know, I know, bachelors aren't supposed to feel love.  We're just sex machines, right?  Well, at least until we reach a certain age, and then we're put out in a field somewhere and expected to become some kind of bachelor Yoda's, only taller, slightly less wrinkly or green and without a cool lightsaber.

Wuv, Oh, Wuv:

But here's the fact.  Bachelors DO fall in love.  No, it's true.  Bachelors are humans, too, it's just that, as bachelors, we make slightly different decisions, have different priorties than those who get married at 21, pop out a copule of babies and move to Arvada.  There are a lot of theories as to why bachelors are who they are.  Some psychologists will tell you that we bachelors are afraid of committment.  Others will say we don't value ourselves enough to believe we deserve to have healthy relationships, so we sabotage them at some point.  Even others will say that some bachelors are the way we are because we come from broken homes and therefore don't believe in love.

To all that I say, and pardon my French...bullshit.  I've been in love.  More than once, even.  I've even asked people to marry me.  How's THAT for fear of committment?  Sure, I may have sabotaged a relationship or two in my time, but, well, that's not the point, and it doesn't support my argument here, so I'm going to just gloss over it if that's okay with you, kind reader.

The point is, all bachelors fall in love.  It's just what we do with it that separates of from the rest of the non-bachelor, you-must-get-married-and-have-children world.  Some, many bachelors will, eventually do just that.  Most do, in fact.  And yet there are still those stallwart holdouts that refuse to enter into that end all be all of relationships.  In those cases, circumstances may have played a tragic role in their life decisions.  Or perhaps they simply haven't found the "right" one yet. 

But who is Misses Right?  And why is it that she so often loses out to Misses Right Now?  There are a number of reasons this happens.  So listen up, those of you looking to snag a bachelor and drag him, or her, into blessed matrimony.

Let the Comparisons Begin:

For one thing, there's the pressure.  Bachelors simply don't do well with pressure.  They may be able to multi-task seven different projects under tight deadlines.  They might be able to save a person's life with CPR in an emergency situation.  They might be able to run a CEO, be part of a non-profit board of directors and coach a high school baseball team.  But get any of these folks together with a woman, at a romantic restaurant, faced with the prospect of talking about marriage and family and children and in-laws, and they start sweating harder than a sumo wrestler in a sauna. 

Misses "Right Now" comes with no pressure.  No baggage.  You don't even have to know her name if you don't want to know.  The biggest pressures a bachelor faces with Misses "Right Now" is whether or not to pay for dinner or wait to buy breakfast.  There are expectations with Misses Right.  Ladies, if you want to beat out Misses Right Now, cool your jets.  Be patient, take your time.

The other issue is control.  Bachelors are used to their freedom.  When a bachelor finds a potential Misses Right, there are sacrifices to be made.  Weekend nights aren't their own anymore, they have to lower the lid on the toilet seats, they actually have to regularly clean their homes.  Decisions aren't made by the bachelor alone anymore, they have to made as a pair.  This can be frustrating to the bachelor who is used to unilaterally deciding things on his own.

By the way, all of these issues also relate to bachelorettes, so don't think I'm forgetting you, I'm not.  For those of you who want to be Mrs, or Mr., Right, let bachelors keep their sense of independence, their individuality.  Some will resist more than others.  Some might jump wholeheartedly into a relationship and explore this new thing called a committed relationship like a child may play with a new toy on Christmas morning.  They'll play with it and smother, exploring everything about it and use it up until it runs down or breaks or they simply lose interest. 

I've done that, heck we've all done that as bachelors at one point or another. 

Now for the bachelors in the crowd:

Be open to relationships, but don't be looking for Misses Right.  I know that sounds strange, right?  But it makes sense.  Looking just adds pressure and expectation.  Besides, you'll know when it happens.  I've always gauged my level of interest by butterflies.

No, not real butterflies.  It's not like they speak to me, although that would be cool, wouldn't it?  To be able to have a little butterfly as some kind of romantic adviser?  This might prove to be a problem, though, because of their short lifespan.  But back to the point.  I like women.  Some of my best friends are women.  Many of them are very, very attractive.  But I don't have romantic feelings for many of them.  Don't ask me why not, I just don't.  But when I do, I know, because, first, I think about them constantly, and second, when I'm around them, I get butterflies in my tummy.  Thumper might call it twitterpated.  I call it a crush.

I get crushes all the time.  Seriously, I do.  I'm like a little lovesick schoolchild when it happens, it's disgusting, really, but it happens, more often than I'd like.  Now as a bachelor we have to learn the difference between crushes and real love.

First rule bachelors, and listen up.  Crushes are fun, love isn't.  Crushes are cute and flirty and harmless.  Love is painful, gut-wrenching, sick-to-your-stomach gut-wrenching.  Suddenly the most innocuous of comments carry massive weight, as if they were boulders dropped from a plane at 30,000 feet.  Love is scary and mystifying and, yes, wonderful, all at the same time.

Bachelors, the next time you're trying to decide if the girl sleeping next to you is Mrs. Right Now, or actually could be Mrs. Right, ask yourself these questions. 

A Many Splendored Thing:

Do you find yourself doing things to please her?  Things like cleaning your bathroom three times a week, or eating healthier or getting up at 5am to go work out with her?  Things you normally wouldn't do even if there were a gun to your head.

Do you put down the toilet seat and buy extra toilet paper because you want to, not because you feel you have to?  More importantly, when you see her tampons in the medicine cabinet, when her toothbrush is prominently next to your sink, when she buys groceries because you just don't choose healthy foods, does it upset you? 

That's the real litmus test.  When you feel that you're losing some control in your life, when you have to phone in if you're going to be out late, if you're passing up going out with the guys to watch "Knob Hill" on a Friday night and you don't mind, then it might be love. 

Because we just don't do these things for women unless we're really, REALLY smitten.  Teetering on the edge of love, kind of smitten.  More than that, unless we really think that she could be Mrs. Right, these things would normally upset us.  It's when the sacrifices come easy, it's when we not only don't mind making the sacrifices, but actually WANT to make the sacrifices that we know, as bachelors, that we might be in love.

But that's really just the easy part.  Falling in love isn't hard.  We could walk around the corner of the frozen food section at the grocery store and fall in love...or at least lust.  As bachelors, we always see the shiny objects that attract us.  They're wearing short skirts, or they flip their hair just the right way or their eyes are mesmerizing.  No, the actual falling is easy.  It's the work that comes afterwards that is hard.

And maybe, just maybe, that might be the one criticism of bachelors I'm willing to concede.  We're not broken, we're not afraid, so to speak, or committment, and we're not saboteurs of our relationships.  The fact is that we as bachelors just might be lazy.  It's the mining and digging and compromising and hard, hard work that goes into a lasting, committed relationship that might bother us the most. 

Because with Mrs. Right Now, there IS no work involved.  It's more like a day at the amusement park, all cotton candy and bumper card rides.  After a while we just get so used to the amusement park and fun of it all, that we start to cringe at the thought of getting our hands dirty, or the daily grind that can be a real relationship. 

But that's the great thing about love, bachelors.  When it happens, you won't mind the work.  Sure, you'll have to get used to it, but you won't hate it.  And yes, more often than not, it will all end in horrible, unbearable pain that will scar you emotionally for the rest of your life.  But hey, at least you always have being a bachelor to fall back on.  That and all those fun amusement park rides. 

The free Drink!

First, sorry for the novella I published yesterday.  Yes, it was long, but I had a story to tell.  If you read the whole thing, I hope you enjoyed it.  If you didn't, well, I don't blame you.  I also have to apologize to anyone reading this that is familiar with my old, old blog that is now ancient history.  Today's post is going to be a recap of an entry I made nearly two years ago.  But that was then, and this is now.  Plus, I think only about two or three people ever read that old blog, so this should be new to most of you.

There's a commercial out right now, reviewing all the different ways to order a beer at a bar.  I saw it the other night and it's been rattling around in my head.  Mostly because I've tried many of the techniques they pointed out, hell, we all have.  Seriously, I even knew a guy who tried calling the bartender at a crowded bar to get a drink.  He got pretty much the same reaction the poor soul did in the commercial.

Hey, baby, nice pour.  Now how 'bout that free shot?

But simply ordering a drink is for schlubs.  Anyone can do that.  You go to a bar, you plop yourself down on a stool, pull out your wallet and order a drink.  Pretty routine stuff.  Heck it's even pretty easy to get faster service at a packed bar if you know what to do.

Bachelor's listen up.  If you ever find yourself in a bar and it's harder to get a drink than summitting Everest, all you have to do is pull out a wad of cash and conspicuously wave it in front of the bartenders face.  Money talks, regardless of where you're at or what you're doing.  If a bartender is staring at a sea of nameless faces, all begging for a jack and coke, or a martini or a 'rita, who do you think he or she will go to first?  That's right, the one with cash in hand.  The eye just seems to go to greenbacks flashing in the red and white strobes. 

But I'm not even here to tell you how to speed up the inebriation process.  Again, anyone with some cash can pull that stunt.  No, the real trick is scoring free drinks at a bar.  Now that takes talent, commitment, charm and a little bit of luck.

Here's how:

There are two types of free bar drinks.  There's the "miracle" freebie, and then there's the "regular" freebie.  One depends more on luck, looks and charm, while the other one simply depends on the level of commitment you're willing to give.

The "Miracle"

To make this happen you have to know a few things.  First, if you're a woman, you know that free drinks come easier to you than they do men.  Usually, these come from the other bar patrons, but if you're really attractive, it's likely you've also managed to grab your share of free shots from an interested bartender.  This entry, however, is for the men who don't enjoy the same advantage.  Sure, we could wear a short skirt and bat our eyes in a flirty fashion as well.  Sadly, I just don't think it will have the same effect.

You also have to know that these rules apply mostly to bars and not dance clubs.  It's easy to score free drinks at a club, you just have to know the right people.  I'm talking about an actual bar, with a jukebox and low lighting and a derelict-looking fellow probably passed out in the corner.  These are the "dive" bars or the "townie" bars we all grew up with.  The kinds of places where you go with friends for a brew and some great conversation and to flirt with the waitresses.

Third, you have to be prepared to pay.  I know, I know, I'm talking about getting a free drink, but before you can start to reap the benefits of the freebie, you'll probably have to pony up for at least a couple of drinks beforehand.  You don't have to be a Greek Addonis to make this happen.  Sure, it helps if you don't look like the Elephant Man, but charm is more important here than anything.

Tips on getting the "Miracle" freebie:

1. Be casual.  Don't do anything that hints you're looking for a free drink early on.  Be just another patron and just be yourself.

2.  Be alone.  It's a lot easier to get a freebie if you're by yourself.  If you're with a group, the bartender is going to be less likely to give you a free drink, because then they'll probably have to give whoever you're with a freebie as well.

3.  Compliment.  This works easier if the bartender is a woman.  Tell her she looks great, or that she makes a perfect dirty martini, whatever it takes.  Yes, this is also considered flirting.  This is okay.  Be casual, hell, be awkward about it.  Whatever you do, don't come off as sleazy or smarmy.  You want them to be genuinely flattered by your compliments. 

4.  Try to spark a conversation.  This works best when the bar isn't completely packed.  Often times, bartenders will spend their down time chatting with regulars.  Listen to the conversation, then, when he or she comes back to you, comment on the conversation.  Add something to their conversation, say something witty or funny.  This approach works equally well with male or female bartenders.

5.  Find a commonality.  Again, this works well with bartenders of either sex.  I don't care if it's sports, fashion, drinks or cars.  Whatever it is, if you can talk to the bartender about something they're interested in, you've made connection, and that is absolutely essential when trying to score a free drink.

6.  Tip well.  When you pay for your first drink, tip more than you usually would.  Do this just for the first one.  If your beer is two dollars, tip two dollars.  Trust me, the bartender will take notice.  After this first drink, you can go back to your normal habit of tipping (never below 20-percent).

7.  Never ask for a free drink.  The freebie has to be the idea of the bartender.  You might get a freebie if you ask for one, but that's all you'll ever get.  If the bartender takes it upon themselves to give you a shot or a drink for free, more will follow.

8.  Pay for the first freebie.  If you DO get a free drink, make the tip equal to, or nearly equal to the price of the drink.  This means, in essence you've paid about half price for your drink, after tip.  But if you do this, you'll find more free drinks coming your way as the night wears on.  You can go back to a dollar tip per drink, or whatever you normally do.  But thanking the bartender with a big tip after the first freebie is essential and you'll end up saving a lot of money in the long run in free drinks.

The whole point of getting the "Miracle" freebie is snagging a drink the first time you walk into a bar.  Notice I have focused on the bartender in this scenario.  This is because most waitresses are pretty jaded and more than likely NOT to be persuaded by your charm or looks.  Plus, they're usually pretty busy and don't have time to engage in any conversation.  Therefore, work on the bartender. 

Getting a free drink on your first trip into a bar isn't easy.  It takes some work, so it helps if you like to talk and are a reasonably personable person.  The bartender has to get to know you, and, more importantly, like you, in a relatively short period of time.  It can be done, I know because I've done it myself.  But also know that it won't always work, sometimes, you just get lucky, sometimes you don't.

The "Regular" Freebie:

This method deals with earning free drinks at a bar that you go to regularly and actually uses many of the same tricks used for the "Miracle" freebie; relationships and conversation.  You will need to utilize your charm, your wits, your humor and your money.  The biggest difference in this method is the level of commitment and the fact that it will work on both bartenders as well as waitresses.

In this method, flirting is essential.  Not flirting as in, "I want to take you home and make you my wife" kind of flirting.  No, this is casual, "I know we'll never date, ever, but it's still fun to flirt," kind of flirting.  With the waitresses, this is vital because they will never give a complete stranger a free drink, unless of course they look like my friend Naamdi, who, if he drank, I'm sure would never have a problem getting free drinks from ayone simply by walking into a room.

You'll still use the same 8 tricks listed above for the "Miracle" freebie, so I won't rehash them.  But I will add a few others that are unique to this method.

1.  Find a bar you like.  This is important because you'll be going back to this bar over and over again.  In order for this method to work, you have to get to know the bartender and waitresses, and they have to get to know you as well.  If you don't like the bar, then it's just not worth it.

2.  Get personal.  After you've been there a couple of times, and they know your face and you've had a conversation or two during your bouts of flirting, chat them up even more.  Talk about family stuff, a few personal things (that aren't TOO personal), like your girlfriend troubles or some minor work issues.  By opening up to them, they'll be more likely to open up to you.  This matters.

3.  Never ask them out.  I don't care if they're the most attractive woman you've ever met.  A waitress or a bartender never gives drinks to a guy that has asked them out.  Besides, it's a losing cause 90-percent of the time.  You can ask her out if you want, but know that you're risking future free drinks if you do so.  Once you ask her out, and she says no, then it's just awkward and kind of creepy to keep going to the same bar.  You'll have to find a new bar. 

4.  Take your time.  If you like the bar you're going to, then you should enjoy drinking there.  Don't be impatient.  In time, once they get to know you and used to seeing you, you'll become a regular.  Regulars get free drinks, well, regularly.  At the same time, if you've been going to the same bar everyday for a year and being charming and having wonderful conversations, but you've never been given a free drink, then it might be time to move on.

Listen, I'm a drinker.  I enjoy drinking, particularly with my friends.  I know that since I rarely go to bars by myself, the chances of me getting free drinks are pretty rare.  But I've tried both of these methods with success. 

In the end, as a bachelor, bars play a big role in our lives in some way.  It's where we meet friends, potential partners for the night and where we gather to celebrate.  My theory is this, if you're going to be at a bar, you might as well enjoy it.  And what says enjoyment more than a free drink?

Salud!