Be A Lover, Not A Fighter

I have seen Jean Claude Van-Damme, and apparently, he's a 16-year old guitar playing freak who fritters away his youthfull Thursday nights at Lanny's Clocktower in downtown Denver.  Okay, to be fair, I'm not really CERTAIN that it was ol' Jeane Claude himself, but don't mention that to the guy who is probably still recovering from a smarting face wound, nearly a week later.  And by face wound, I don't mean a nick, scrape or cut.  I mean his entire face was just one, big, bruise.  Here, let me explain.

I was recently at Lanny's, which by the way, if you ever want to check out some good music and fun burlesque, it's THE place to go in Denver.  Anyway, I was there to support a good cause and catch some cool blues.  I took a seat in the back of the theater, had a few whiskey and coke's, a couple of martini's, made unusually long eye contact with my cute but butchy waitress and decided to check out around 10:30. 

At one point, right before I took my leave, I noticed that a scrawny, young-looking, glasses wearing, dapper looking kid was exchanging a few words with a couple of shabby musician types on the sunken main floor.  I recognized the kid.  He had been playing guitar with the blues band performing during the benefit show.  From my perch above the main floor, I could see the kid was trying not to get involved with these two, ahem, gentlemen, who seemed to have an issue with him. 

He looked frail, he was skinny, he was dressed in a nice vest, crisp shirt, pressed slacks, shiny shoes.  He looked "snappy" as my grandmother might say.  At first glance, he looked to be no match for these two older, larger men he was arguing with.  But a closer look revealed something else.  There was a hardness to him, an edge about the way he held his posture and didn't seem to back down from his antagonists.  From experience, I guaged him as someone I probably wouldn't actively pick a fight with.  It turns out, I was right.

As I was leaving, giving last second hugs and saying my goodbyes, the trio made their way to the upstairs lobby.  This is where I found them as I made my way out of the clock tower, on my way to meet some friends at another bar.  As I was standing on the steps, I could hear the argument getting heated and I stopped to watch what would happen.  Not that I was likely to get involved, but it didn't seem fair, two against one, and I would probably have tried to step in and break up any fight that might have occurred.  Fortunately, I didn't have to.

Because, and this is where it gets interesting, one of the larger men took a swing at the kid.  As usual, it happened suddenly, but with some telegraphing.  The larger man was getting angrier, his voice reaching a high pitch, fists clenched, he widened his stance and leaned in a little too close.  Classic signals that a punch was probably on its way.  Typically, the punch was wide, a rabbit punch that starts from behind the head and swings out wide before coming into its target.  Some call it a haymaker, I call it a bad punch.

The kid barely moved.  In a flash he moved a little to his left, grabbed the man's arm and in one, sweeping motion, pulled the man off balance and shoved his face into the wall behind him.  And then it was over.  One attempted punch, a face to the wall and the larger guy crumpled like wet sack.  The kid didn't gloat or throw a punch or kick the guy when he was down.  He simply looked at fellow's friend as if to say, "Are you next?"  At which point the other guy backed down and went to go care for his friend as the kid turned to go back into the bar.  That's when I figured I should leave.  Nothing to see here, folks, go home.

I hate to say it, but I saw that coming.  Well, not EXACTLY like that, but I did walk away from the clocktower pleased with my initial assessment of the kid and his fighting prowess (although to be fair, I thought he'd be more of a scrapper, not so much a crazy kung fu fighter).

Fight or Flight:

For those that aren't familiar with me, I have a little experience in this field.  I have been known to get a little "fighty" at times, particularly after six or seven shots of tequila.  I've done my share of fighting, won some, lost more than I care to count, spent a few too many nights in the overnight lock-up because of it.  Not proud of it, mind you, but it is what it is. 

Besides knowing how much bail is for disturbing the peace and assault is, these experiences have also given me some insight into the wonderful world of the bar-fight.  Nothing is quite as violently funny as a good old fashioned bar-fight.  Rarely does anyone get seriously hurt, and usually it starts over the most idiotic of reasons.

Among the insights I have gleaned in my years of scraping and cell-phone hurling in bars late at night is how to recognize when a fight is about to happen.  I also have learned how to pick your fight, or, more importantly, WHO to pick your fight with.

When I was in college, I used to bounce at a bar called, "The Walrus."  It's a typical college bar.  Full of drunk girls, surly bartenders, loud music and hormone and whiskey fueled man-boys.  It was a safe bet that if it was Saturday or Friday, there was a fight brewing at The Walrus.  Sometimes it happened without any warning, but more often than not, you could see it coming a mile away.  For instance, I had a good friend who was normally a happy-go-lucky guy.  But get a few shots of Jack Daniels in him and Mr. Jeckyl turned into Mr. Hyde.  He'd get a look in his eye, a grin on his face and he'd slam his shot glass down or throw it to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces and exclaim, "I feel ROWDY!" 

At that point, it was time to, A) get him out of the bar as quickly as possible.  Or B) Remove yourself from the situation and hope you don't get an early morning phone call for bail money.  I liked this guy.  We were friends for years, but after a while, you get tired of having to pull his bacon out of the fire as he picked fights with anyone within spitting distance.

Years later, as I began working in radio, my buddy Darren and I would often find ourselves facing down combatants.  In one memorable year, it seemed that every time we went out to a bar, we ended up getting into a fight, or nearly starting a riot.  As usual, these incidents started over the dumbest of things.  Getting bumped by someone at the bar, being douchebags at the bar, spilling a drink on me at the bar, or vice-versa.  Mostly it had to do with basic bar etiquette. 

One night at a bar called Williams, in LoDo, the lights came up, and the bouncers were trying to herd everyone out of the bar.  It was crowded, it was hot, we were all drunk.  I was standing on a barstool when the bartender pushed me off into the crowd of humanity.  As I turned to talk to Darren, a large guy bumped into me, hard.  My temper flared, I said something, he said something back and then, IT WAS ON!  I handed my cellphone to Darren for safekeeping and followed the man out the door.  I was furious, blinded with rage.  As we stepped out the door I took a swing (in the style of the aforementioned rabbit punch) andmissed terribly.

The man had seen it coming (who couldn't?) and ran into the street to avoid my, admittedly, sucker punch.  He nearly got hit by a car.  The guys little friend stood alongside us, Darren was behind me, holding my phone up, ready to smash it on the head of the guys friend if he got involved.  The guy took a swing at me, he missed, I swung back and connected, but did no damage.  It was like to very drunk Archie Bunkers trying somehow stagger their way to knockout victory.  A clash of the titans, it was not.

A crowd only half interested watched as we exchanged punches.  And then we heard it...police sirens.  We froze.  People started to scatter.  My opponents' little friend said desperately, "What are we fighting for?  The cops are coming!"  Suddenly we sobered up and realized how stupid we were being.  I apologized, the man apologized, the little guy apologized, Darren held my phone over his head, ready to strike, just in case it was all an evil ploy.  We all then came in, gave each other a hug and walked briskly away from the scene of our drunken struggle.

Typically, this is how a lot of bar-fights go.  Punches are thrown, maybe they connect, but the damage is never too bad. Yes, there are those fights where knives are pulled, or worse, guns.  But most bar fights involve two guys chest bumping and trash talking and hoping to God that someone holds them back so they don't really have to, you know, fight.

And trust me, no matter how careful you are, no matter what you try to do to avoid a scrape, it's almost inevitable, guys, that at some point, you're going to find yourself in a fight in a bar or on the street outside of a bar.  It happens, and the best you can hope for is that it's over quickly, and that your face doesn't get smashed by a big, beefy fist somewhere along the way.

So, with that in mind, here are some tips that have to deal with your typical, run of the mill bar-fight.  First, I'll give you some tips on recognizing when a fight is bound to happen.  Then, and maybe more importantly, some tips on emerging victorious if you absolutely can't get out of the impending bar-brawl.

See It Coming:

There are a few ways to tell that a fight is coming, whether it's with you or within your vicinity.

1.  Watch for the posturing - Guys who are ready for a fight have a particular posture.  Generally they move in close to whoever they're arguing with.  Their feet are spread in a solid stance, they bow their neck, trying to look taller and one or both of their arms are slightly behind them, as if being loaded and readied to strike.


2.  It's In The Voice - When guys are gearing up to fight, they don't always yell at the top of their lungs.  They're volume is probably only slightly louder than usual.  But it's uneven.  There's a nervousness or maybe they're so angry they can't control their voice.  Either way, it's cracked a little, breathy and uneven.  When it reaches this point, you can bet fists will be flying soon.


3.  Don't Crowd Me - If it's just two guys squaring off in a bar, chances are, neither one wants to really escalate to fisticuffs.  However, if one of the participants has a "posse" or is with a group of friends, or, god forbid, a girl, the macho takes over and the brain shuts down.  It's almost impossible for a guy to back down if the challenge has been made in front of a group of friends.  Something about losing face.  Regardless, be very wary of angry dudes with a group of friends.  It's a fight just waiting to happen.

Now, onto what really matters:

If you absolutely, positively HAVE to fight, here are some tips to making sure you're not the one that ends up in traction, or worse, in jail.

1.  Choose your fight wisely - This isn't as easy as it sounds.  I mean, the very fact that you're plunging into a bar-fight means you're probably drunk and your faculties are suspect.  However, try to look for a few telltale signs that you might be able to win the fight.  
     a.  Your opponents build - is he short, skinny, fat, ripped, tall?  This matters a little, but not as much as you might think.  Some fat guys can take a punch and pack a wallop, while some in shape guys go down faster than Frazier vs. Tyson.  Some small guys are, like the kid mentioned above, are scrappy and hard to hit.  
     b.  How drunk are they?  The drunker they are, the worse they'll be at fighting.  This is a general rule, but be careful...I knew a guy in college that, when drunk, could (and did more than once) get the crap beat out of him, and still not go down.  But by and large, the drunk ones don't fight well.
     c.  Their eyes - You can tell a lot by looking at their eyes.  As you approach, how do they react?  Do their eyes dart around looking for a way out or help?  Do they initially back down or flinch before finding their courage?  Or do they stare back, clear and angry and filled with steely resolve.  I've looked into the eyes of men much smaller than me and I could tell not only were they ready to fight, they WANTED to fight.  The eyes will tell you what you need to know.


2.  No Group Sessions - If you're being called out by a guy with a bunch of friends at his back, it's best to just walk away if you can.  The fact that he has a group behind him makes it less likely that he'll back down, plus he'll probably fight harder so he won't be embarrassed in front of his buds.  That and the fact that if you start to win, you'll still be vastly outnumbered...think "Custer".  If you can't avoid the fight, make sure you try to keep the group in front of you, don't circle around if possible so that the group is ever at your back.  Finally, as you're fighting, a steady retreat, away from the group is recommended.  They'll follow, but you'll be setting yourself up for an easier escape if they decide to jump in at any time.


3.  Punch First - Yes, I know, this isn't the chivalrous thing to do, but hey, it's a bar-fight.  The fact is, if you throw the first punch and connect, the fight will probably be over before it ever gets started.  Don't wait for the other guy to attack.  Just jab him in the face and watch him go down.  This is only if the fight is absolutely inevitable.  


4.  Keep your balance - The nice thing about bar-fights is that they usually involve two really drunk guys.  In the end, my experience has been that the one with the better balance generally wins.  That means no throwing your entire body behind your punch.  You don't need that much force usually, and when you throw your shoulder into your punch, you'll lose your balance.  The most effective punches I've ever seen in bar-fights have been the jabs and pokes.  They are effective because the other guy is usually too drunk to avoid or block a quick jab.  They're expecting haymaker punches.  Throw a nice, quick jab to the nose and you'll end up the winner nine times out of ten.


5.  Keep your temper - The only way to fight effectively is if you keep your emotions in check.  Sure, you're nervous, your angry and your probably drunk, which means you're probably not thinking too clearly (otherwise you wouldn't be fighting).  But if you can manage to keep you anger in check and your senses only slightly dull, you'll be able to avoid any punches they throw and you'll be able to control your punches much better, giving you a huge advantage.


6.  Finally, beat a hasty retreat - Don't unpack your adjectives, don't stick around acting as if everything's cool, don't stick around to taunt or be taunted.  If you win, leave and find another bar, preferably more than a few blocks away.  Police will show up at some point, and when they do, they will begin arresting the fight participants first and asking questions later.  If you're not there, police will get a description of you, and they'll look for you in nearby bars.  The best thing to do at that point is probably to just go home.  But if you insist on staying out for one more drink, then make sure it's far away from the bar where you were fighting.  This is also why you should always pay for drinks in cash.  No paper trail and you don't have to stick around afterwards to pay for you tab.  If you lose the fight, just go home and lick your wounds.

Let me say this; fighting sucks.  Bar-fights in particular, suck.  Even if you win, the next morning you'll just be embarrassed and you'll probably be nursing a few wounds regardless.  Worst case scenario, you end up in jail for a night, which also really, REALLY sucks.  Sometimes, though, bar-fights just can't be avoided.  In these instances, try to keep your head and, well, try to enjoy it.  As crazy as that sounds, as awful as bar-fights can be, they're also a bit of a rite of passage for the average bachelor. 

In the meantime, just try to stick to my motto, which I gratuitously stole from Michael Jackson.  Be a lover, not a fighter. 

The ManDate!

Okay, it's discussion time here at "The Bachelor Diaries".  Last week was a little like the "good old days" for me a bit.  I was out nearly every week, enjoying the company of friends, doing a lot of laughing, imbibing on some cheap, but tasty, drinks. 

I had truly considered staying in a few of those night, but life has a way of rearing its ugly, or in this case, inebriated, head sometimes.  Not to say I regret it, I don't.  It was really awesome spending time with friends, particularly those I hadn't had a chance to hang out with for a while.  In a couple of cases, I also ended up having drinks with some friends who I'm still really just getting to know.  One of these instances occurred last Thursday. 

A buddy of mine texted me on Thursday and asked if I was interested in grabbing a drink.  I, of course, said yes.  I told him I was heading down to the Broker for a drink and I'd meet him there. 

By the way, if you live in Denver, or if you're ever in town for any reason, make a point to stop by the Broker if you have time.  They have a great prime rib and the restaurant is set in an old bank safe.  Seriously, you can eat inside the safe that's been renovated.  It's a longtime Denver icon.  But what really sets the place apart is their happy hour. 

There was a time in Denver when "McCormick's" had the best happy hour deal in town.  They offered cheap beers and decent food at bargain prices.  The problem was, you could only get the deals betwen 5pm and 7pm, and again from 11pm to close (around 1am).  Not at the Broker, though.  They have really cheap drinks, seved strong, by the way, and for five bucks you can get enormous meals.  Their shrimp bowl alone is worth the trip.  It's no wonder why The Broker is quickly becoming one of my favorite watering holes.  Of course it doesn't hurt that it's only about five blocks away from my apartment, so, totally within stumbling distance.

By the way, I don't work for The Broker, and I'm not being paid for this endorsement (there, government, happy now?)  ANYway...back to the original intent of the story.  I was at the bar having a martini when my buddy walks in.  There were some cute girls nearby, the rest of the bar was essentially empty, the bartender recognized me and was attentive.  It was a good scene, even if the Rockies WERE losing on the lone TV in the place. 

We had a couple of drinks, chatted about various things from music to shows to work, to his upcoming wedding.  Within about 20 minutes, a group of folks wandered in and took a table behind us.  It didn't take long before my buddy and I made our way over to the table and joined in.  As I introduced my buddy to some of the folks at the table who didn't know him, I took a seat and was faced immediately with this question:

"So, are you guys on a man-date?"

Now, you can imagine my surprise at this question, as, up until that exact moment in my life, I'd never heard of, "a man-date".  It's been over month since I'd been on a real date.  You know, the kind of date a bachelor goes on, with a woman and such.  I simply sat there for a second, not exactly sure how to respond, stunned by the audacity of the question.

When I finally responded, my answer was something like, "What the hell did you just ask?"  Followed pretty quickly by, "What the HELL is a man-date?!?!"

I was told in no uncertain terms that a man-date was when two men get to together socially over drinks, or dinner, to spend time together.  I was skeptical.  It just didn't sound right.  I'm not getting into any homophobic areas here.  I'm just saying that I have a pretty good idea what constitutes a date, and two straight guys hanging out doesn't really fit that definition.

So I went looking for some clarity.  I consulted the dictionary.  Of course, even though the word "Bromance" might be a listed word now, "man-date" still isn't.  I did, however find some interesting definitions in the one place where you would expect to find a slang term used to describe an outing by two dudes; the Urban Dictionary.  There are currently five definitions in the Urban Dictionary for "man-date."  Click here to read them all.

As you can see, the last definition kind of supports my theory.  Another basically defines a "gay man-date" and a third definition is kind of vague.  The first definition, though logically makes sense.  So, after my foray onto the interwebs, I'm basically as confused as I was when I started.

What is a date:

I suppose there can be as many definitions for a "date" as there are different kinds of relationships.  But for me, a date must consist of the following things:

1.  A man
2.  A woman
3.  Romantic intent
4.  Pre-planning to move the relationship further along, romantically
5.  Hopefully sex

Yes, I'm a pig, that was determined a long time ago...let's move on.  Now, if two men are romantically interested in each other, then you can just change number two to man and be good with it.  But for ME, number two has to be a woman.  There's nothing wrong with that...it's how I was born.  I have very good gay friends who regularly date members of the same sex, which I guess is a given, since they're gay.  Again, nothing wrong with that.  I'm just using my definition here.

Now, if I get together with a buddy, whether it's a male or a female, and numbers three through five aren't present, then it's not a date. In fact, this exact scenario happened on Friday night.  I was out for a drink with a female friend after spending time hanging out with another very close friend that we hadn't been able to spend time with for a while.  This woman happens to be perhaps my best friend, someone who I am very close to.  We were out having beers together, just the two of us. 

In some definitions, we might have been on a date.  But that's obviously not how I defined it.  Neither did she.  When I pointed it out, and asked her, "Hey, we're out together, just the two of us, having drinks socially...are WE on a date?"  Her answer was no.  To which I agreed.

I was enjoying my time with her, catching up, talking, laughing and having a beer.  If THAT wasn't a date, why then was the time I spent with my male buddy a man-date? 

You can see how I'm confused, right?  In both cases, I was just hanging out with a friend in a public place.  See definition number three...basically two buds sharing a beer.  NOT a date.  There was no romantic intent in either scenario, no furthering of the relationship romantically, and no getting laid by anyone involved in the two instances. 

So you can see why I so vigorously deny the concept of the "man-date."  It's not homophobia, it's really just an effort to keep the purity of the idea of a "date" intact.  In my opinion, there has to be romantic intent involved in order to be considered a date.

A New Definition:

There was ONE argument that logically made sense to me, so I feel compelled to reveal it.  One of the folks at the table Thursday night explained a "date" as a coming together of two people in an effort to get to know each other better and further the relationship on some level. 

I thought about this for a second and I had to admit that, while goes against my exact definition of a date, there is something that makes sense about it.  I suppose that there could be a case made that a date is really just an opportunity to get to know another person better. 

As bachelors we do this a lot.  We will see a woman that we might be attracted to and ask her out to get to know her better and see if a romance could develop.  I STILL believe there has to be an element of romance involved in order to be classified as a true "date", but if you take this definition at face value, then there could be a case made for the "man-date" as well.

The Result:

So in the end, I'm still left a little puzzled.  I mean, I get the idea of the "Bromance" and the "Man-crush".  These aren't romantic terms.  These are situations where one guy really respects another guy for his abilities as an athlete, or performer or as a bachelor.  A man can have a "bromance" and a "mancrush" and not have any romantic intentions.  That's why it's so easy for a bachelor to say, "I love you, man!"  But when it comes time to tell that special woman that you love her, well, it can feel like your innards are purging and you're coming down with the flu. 

Saying "I love you, man" is harmless, it carries no consequences.  Saying "I love you" to a woman chock full of consequence.  It's just a short step away from three screaming kids, driving a mini-van and living in the suburbs. 

So if the "bromance" and the "man-crush" aren't the same as a romance or a real "crush" then why would a man-date be the same as a real date?  The answer, it's not.  You can go ahead and use the word man-date if you want.  I probably won't. 

Hey, that doesn't mean I'll stop hanging out with my buddies, either.  I like spending time with my friends.  And the fact is, the time I spend with my friends is often WAY better than most of my dates. 

But what do you think?  Does the "man-date" really exist?  Is it a term that you would use to describe two buddies getting together for a beer or two?  What do you call it when a male and female who are just friends get together to do the same thing?  I'm curious, because, as always, I may be way off in my perception and definition.

Get back to me with your thoughts.  Set me straight, give me a digital high-five if you agree or a technical thumbs down if you think I'm off base.  I look forward to your responses.  And never fear, I'll be back with another riveting entry on the Bachelor Diaries very soon.  Until then...see ya.  I gots a man-date....errrr...drinks to get to.

The Gift of Giving!

I really need to start writing my ideas down.  I was so excited with my last entry, and I had a handfull of great entry ideas to follow it up with.  Then life kind of got in the way and by the time I got back in front of the blog, I had forgotten all of them.  Yep, every single one.

So, I did what every intrepid writer and reporter would do, I went out looking for a topic to write about.  And by that, I mean, I asked a few women what upsets them most about men while having a few drinks at the local watering hole.  Sure, it's not a scientific method, but I know a good topic when I hear one, and I've got a good one for you today.

Hey, guess where she's thinking about putting that roller?

In fact, it's SOOO good, I'm shocked that it never occurred to me.  But, then again, I'm a bachelor, so it makes sense that I never would have guessed that gift giving is among the things that really piss women off about men. 

In a way, this kind of makes no sense...at least to a bachelor.  I mean, women LOVE getting gifts, right?  They like shiny baubles and trinkets, right?  And ultimately, it's the thought that counts, RIGHT?  Well, my fellow bachelors, apparently not.

My conversation about gift-giving was actually pretty fascinating.  I sat and listened as a couple of the women involved complained about the myriad of gifts they've received over the years that simply weren't adequate.  Not only were they not adequate, they were downright, well, offensive.  After about five minutes of listening to these women hammer my gender for their clear lack of gift-giving knowledge, I finally had to stand up and ask the question every bachelor has wondered about over the years.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked.

The answer to that was a little less forthcoming.  But, never fear, bachelor brethren!  I did manage to glean some information from the stories told and the expressed frustrations.  So sit back, buckle up, because what I'm about to tell  you is going to be a little difficult to stomach for some of you, but you have to hear it.  It's for your own good, trust me.

Start Slow:

First, we have to start at the beginning.  You know, when you're still really infatuated with them and before all those little annoying things they do start to get, you know, really annoying.  It's the time in a relationship where you still care about what they say, how their day went, what kind of dress they really like to wear.  At this point, you're in tune with their likes and dislikes...for the most part anyway.  But none of that matters, because we're trying to woo them.  Or at the very least, try to woo them enough to sleep with you.

So you lavish them with the traditional gifts.  Things like jewelry and flowers and nights out on the town.  You buy them all the traditional trappings of a courtship.  No matter what any woman says, they LIKE getting things like Jewelry and flowers and nights out on the town.  Of course, you could give chocolate, and many women like chocolate, but some don't; so that's where the listening part comes in.  But we'll get to that in a minute.

Before we get there, though, we have to cover an important fact about the initial gift-giving stage.  You have to walk a fine line.  Oh, and life is NOT like the movies.  In some movies, the guy gets really romantic and buys one-thousand roses and fills up her office and she gets all mushy and they get married and buy a dog and move to the 'burbs and live happily ever after.  Here's a fact: There is such a thing as too much.

When I was in college, I had a good friend dating a man that she liked well enough.  It wasn't anything serious, at least to her.  But he was head over heels.  She was already teetering on the edge of staying with him or breaking up.  He had already given her an incredibly expensive necklace and had flown her out to New York for a Spring Break holiday.  To her, it had seemed like a little too much, a little too soon.

Now, he wasn't a stupid guy.  He could sense that she was having doubts about the relationship.  But instead of backing off a bit, he completely went the other way.  He bought one-thousand roses and had them delivered to her house.  Not only was she not overcome with gushiness when she got home, she was downright P.O'd.  Needless to say, they broke up the next day.  He was crushed.  He just couldn't imagine how a thousand roses didn't make her fall immediately in love with him.

Certainly that's just an anecdotal story, but that story really says everything you need to know about giving gifts early on in a relationship.  Basically, don't give too much too soon, you'll scare her away, and even if you manage to give great gifts that she absolutely loves early on, you'll still be in trouble because, a) she'll expect you to keep giving her those kinds of gifts.  Or b) she'll tire of those generic gifts and want something more personal.

More often than not, it will be a combination of the two.  She'll still expect you to give her the occasional necklace or bracelet or earrings.  But she'll also want gifts that are more personal than just a box of chocolates or shiny things. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you to go out and give a gift certificate to Wal-Mart early on the relationship.  I mean, sure, it's a great way to lower expectations, and if she really likes you, she'll stick with you, but it's pretty much guaranteed she'll bitch about it to her girlfriends and they'll all hate you and eventually, when you DO break up, you just KNOW that the Wal-Mart certificate will come flying back in your face at some point.  Plus there's the fact that if you're buying anyone a Wal-Mart gift certificate you should be locked away forever and never allowed to socialize with normal people again.

Go ahead and buy a nice necklace, or buy a dozen roses.  Just don't go overboard.  Remember, one of the best things about being a bachelor is being allowed, no, EXPECTED, to be somewhat aloof at times.  You're a bachelor, you're not in touch with your feelings, you're a bit boorish, you're a guy, so it's expected that you'll give crappy gifts.  So if you surprise her every now and then with something really cool like an expensive tennis bracelet or sparkling earrings, she'll be happy you just remembered her birthday or the anniversary, or her promotion at work. 

Catch Her Fancy:

Now, if you somehow manage to get past the initial stages of the relationship and you've managed to give a few quality gifts, you might think you're in the clear.  Not so fast, buddy.  In reality, your work has just begun.  Because now, she won't be satisfied with the impersonal gifts, the kinds of gifts that every other woman gets.  NOW she's going to want something much more personal.  Something that has sentimental value to her.  And in order to give a gift that fits that criteria, you're going to have to...GULP....listen to her.

Yes, I know, that's hard for a lot of you out there.  But follow along, it's not as hard as it sounds.  Okay, I lied, it CAN be hard, but, you know, if you really like her, you'll take the hit. 

Here's why it's so hard:  Many times the things that she wants the most will be said in passing over dinner, or during a conversation while smoking a cigarette, or while driving in the car as you're trying to listen to the football game.  A lot of times she'll make comments about things she likes or loves or wants while she's out shopping.  Of course, this means you actually have to be out shopping with her.  But that's not such a bad thing.  You don't have to do it very often, once, maybe twice.  A good woman doesn't expect her man to go shopping with her very often (are you listening, ladies?).  So if you agree to go once or twice, she'll take advantage of it by dropping hints about things she likes or wants.

And let's be clear here, you're really going to have to pay attention.  She'll say she likes that particular coffee table or that neat watch or that bedspread.  But the things that she really likes she'll say different things.  Things like, "Wouldnt' this look great in our place?" even though you don't live together.  Or, "I've always wanted one of those, ever since I was a little girl."  Or, "Man, I can't tell you how long I've dreamed about wearing a pair of those when we go out." 

You see a pattern?  The things she wants are things that matter to her, not because she just likes them, but because they are an affirmation of your relationship.  They mean more than just getting something that is nice.  It has to be a gift that says, "I listened to you, honey, and I give you this to let you know that I love you and with it I affirm how much I love you." 

See, you give a guy a cool gift and the guy hears, "Hey, I thought you'd like this, so...knock yourself out."  Women hear a completey different message. 

Here's another anecdotal story to illustrate my point:

One of my very best friends in the world happened to be there during the conversation and told me about a time when she knew exactly what her boyfriend was going to give her.  She said she knew her boyfriend was getting her boots, but not the exact kind of boots she was hoping for.  Now, of course, she was absolutely thrilled that he got her boots.  She loves boots and, hey, he WAS listening...he got her boots.  And she DOES still wear them, because they were nice boots.  But they weren't the exact kind of boots she had mentioned she wanted. 

Because she's a really cool chick, she didn't get mad, or angry or upset.  She was very happy with the boots.  But, because she knew her boyfriend at the time so well, she knew what she was getting long before she ever opened the gift.  Most other women would have been upset that they didn't get the right kind of boots because the guy wasn't listening.  Fortunately, she's not like that, but your girlfriend might be, so beware.  You have very little room for error with most women.

Avoid The Traps:

It's a great thing to give a gift and say something like, "I saw this and I immediately thought of you," and then she opens it to find a hand-carved wooden sculpture of an elephant.  Now, she may like elephants, and it might be a very expensive work of art.  But all she's going to hear is, "I think you're an elephant...Merry Christmas!"

You have to be very, VERY careful when giving a gift because it reminded you of her.  What might seem romantic or innocent to you can deliver a very harsh message to her if you're not careful.  And guys, I get it.  You want to be unique, you want to be original, you want to really surprise her.  But more often than not, that's just going to get you in trouble.

Of course, the more time you spend with a woman, the more you get to know her.  This means you know her likes and dislikes.  Again, avoid this trap.  If your girlfriend is a huge Journey fan, giving her a gift of a fully framed, autographed picture of the band onstage is cool, really cool.  If you follow that up the next year with a pair of tickets to L.A. to see the band live, well, that's cool too.  If you follow THAT up with another Journey-oriented present...well, she's probably going to be pissed.  You might think you're playing into her likes, but to her, you're focusing in on the one thing that you know she likes and she'll start to question how much you really know about her.

Years ago, I dated a woman from work and we worked closely together every day.  We talked all the time.  Then, about four months into the "relationship" we were going up to a cabin to spend a ski weekend together.  It was her birthday, and I had made her a CD of music she liked.  We had dinner on the way up and I gave her her CD.  She loved it.  We listened to it on the way up to the cabin.  We sang along, everything seemed fine.  Right before we got to the cabin, we stopped off at a liquor store in town.  The store was playing Van Morrisson's "Into The Mystic."  I love that song, and I love Van Morrisson. 

When we got back into the car, I mentioned how much I loved that song.  She replied, "well, didn't you put any Van Morrisson on the CD?"  I, of course, hadn't.  She then immediately proceeded to tell me that SHE loved Van Morrisson, and that "Into The Mystic" was one of her all-time favorite songs.  She then told me I should know that since she said that to me during our first date.  The rest of the weekend went downhill from there.

As you can see, gift-giving is tricky.  Here is a short list of things you never EVER want to give a woman as a gift:

1.  clothes - You'll probably get the size wrong, the color wrong, the style wrong.  Avoid giving clothes at all costs.


2.  Kitchen items - If you give her a blender, she has the right, under the law, to beat you with it.  It's true.


3.  Items for the car -  The only exception to this rule is if you actually give her a car to go with the other items.


4.  Games - Video or otherwise.  She's going to think, and rightly so, that you're really giving her the present so you can play with it later.


5.  Anything educational - You might as well give her a card that says, "You're a dumbass, but at least you're hot, happy birthday!"

Tips for the ladies:

Finally, as I wrap this up, I have to turn my attention to the ladies in the audience.  Ladies, and you know who you are, give your man a break.  Sure, you're allowed to bitch a little and complain to your girlfriend when your man gives you the DVD of "Die Hard With A Vengance" for your anniversary.  But realize that you're dealing with a guy, who, more often than not, thinks, "Hey, I like it, she'll like it, too."  Maybe he's just trying to share with you some of his more personal likes.

Realize that if a guy is giving you a gift, they really care about you.  It might not be the exact present you were hoping for, but he thought enough of you to actually go out and buy you something.  Like the cat that leaves a dead bird on your doorstep, the guy derives some joy from giving you a present that he thinks will make you happy. 

Oh, and if a guy you're NOT dating gives you the perfect gift, he wants to date you.  Trust me.  A guy doesn't listen or pay attention that closely to a woman they have no interest in.  If you mentioned in passing that you have always wanted an original, vintage-style Lite Brite, because it reminds you of better times, and then a "friend" gives you an original, vintage-style Lite Brite, then you can pretty much be assured that he wants to date you.  I'm just sayin'. 

In the end, be happy that you're with a guy that cares enough to actually get you a present.  Most of us aren't artsy OR crafty.  As much as we'd LIKE to present you with a scrapbook of photo memories of the last trip to Venice, or paint you a picture, or buy you the perfect gift, the fact is we're probably going to get it wrong. 

Just open your present, smile and be thankful that he cared enough to try.  Then take the receipt and get what you really wanted.  And when it comes to buying your man a present, know that you're in a much better position.  We like things that make noises, explode or jiggle. 

Until next time, I'm your friendly neighborhood bachelor, saying goodnight.  Oh, and if you have any bachelor related questions, or something you'd like me to write about, please feel free to drop me a line here or at cdgallegos01@earthlink.net, or leave a response and I'll get right to it, I promise.  Consider it my present to you.

Making Plans

Holy Crap!  It's a new Bachelor Diaries entry!  Yes, yes, I know, it's been a while, nearly an entire month.  But I have a good reason...I just can't think of it right now.  In reality, I started a dozen different entries over the past few weeks, but none of them really were what I would call, "Bachelor Diaries" quality, so they were scrapped.  The ideas were fine, but the words weren't coming out in an orderly fashion.

But now, get ready for a virtual avalanche of entries as I prepare to make my way down to Austin, Texas for the "Out of Bounds Improv Festival."  It should be a great time.  I've never been to Austin, but I hear it's a great place and I couldn't be more excited to make the trip.  I hope to have a bevy of funny, bachelor-esque stories to tell upon my return.  But in the meantime, I have a few entries that have just been itching to be written.

I'll tick one off today, if you don't mind.

The Schedule:

I'll begin this segment with the acknowledgement that some people have busier lives than others.  For most of us, our days are filled with things we have to do like work, taking care of the family pet, kids, errands...mundane things.  But for even the busiest person, sometimes the weekends are a blank slate.  And that's not always a bad thing.  I mean, the weekends are supposed to be for relaxing, right? 

Perhaps for some.  For me, my weekends, tend to be busier than my weekdays.  Since I work from home, my Monday through Friday schedule is fairly wide open.  I have some meetings, deadlines to meet, shows to watch.  But for the most part, my days and nights are mine to do with what I will.

My weekends, however, tend to be full with shows and performances and rehearsals and, hopefully, parties.  I'll also let you in on a little secret; I keep terrible time.  I try to be on time to most places, but usually if I'm five minutes late, that's a positive in my book.  I also rarely plan ahead.  I'm not talking about the kind of planning ahead where you look at your long term career goals and retirement future.  No, I'm talking about the "hey, what are you doing Saturday night?" kind of plans.

I've had some interesting discussions with a number of women over the past few weeks, and, surprisingly, one of the biggest complaints each one has had about the men they are either with, ot want to be with, is that they don't plan ahead enough.  I know, right?  With all the stupid things that men do, THAT is what they are complaining about?  Well, apparently, it's a big issue among women and I think I know why.

What Really Matters:

In the end, I think it comes down to value.  Men, if there's one thing you have to know about women is that they value being valued.  You can spend a night out on the town with your buddies and come in late stinking drunk, you can forget to call them when you told them you would, you can even skip their birthday to watch the U.S. Open.  But you can make it all up as long as you remind them that they are important to you.  Not just on Valentine's Day or on a holiday or on your anniversary, but at any time.  Spend time talking to them, listening to them rant about their day or their insane co-workers, bring them flowers just because, make time for a special date night, and you remind them that you value them and their company.

Each woman I talked to that brought this up had a very similar scenario.  They were interested in a man, they had gone out on a date or two.  They chat online, via texts, on the phone and mention that they want to go out again.  Then, the woman doesn't hear from the guy for a few days, Friday rolls around and then they get a message asking them what they're doing on Friday or Saturday. 

Each woman rolls her eyes at this point in the story as if to say, "how could a guy be so stupid?"  In defense of my gender, ladies, it's not stupid, it's just stuff that guys do.  In the last two weeks, I have received texts from buddies along the lines of, "Hey, I'm out at a bar, come on down..." or "Going out tonight, what are you doing?  Join up."  This kind of "Scheduling" is pretty typical among men.  We decide to go out, do something fun, and then we decide to let some folks know about it.  Even married men do it.  Last Friday, a buddy sent out a Facebook message setting up an event we call, "Bowl-e-oke" for Friday night.  Of course, a handful of the women complained that they needed more time to plan something like that.  I, on the other hand would have gone in an instant had I not already had a show scheduled.

And that's the difference.  I already had something going on, and my buddy was cool about that.  No worries, we just move on, and hopefully I can make it the next time.  Whereas women will often not go, even if they don't have anything planned, just out of spite that the request came so late. 

So I asked, as any good bachelor would do, what would be an appropriate lead time to ask a woman out for an activity.  Again, be clear, this isn't even just about a date, it's about any kind of event.  However, I will say that this line of discussion really only applies to a man that a woman is interested in.  In other words, if you're in the "Friends" realm with a woman, asking them to do something a few hours in advance isn't such a mortal sin.  Just don't be disappointed when they decline because they have something else planned.  Let's face it, men, most women have way more options than we do on weekend nights.

But if a woman is interested in you, and you have gone out on a "date" with them, now you have crossed over into the, "must plan way in advance" neighborhood.  But back to the point.  I asked them what is acceptable and the general response I received was, three to five days.  I can tell you I nearly fell off my chair.  THREE TO FIVE DAYS!?! I was gobsmacked.  Who the hell plans their weekends three to five days in advance?  Well, as it happens most women do.

So what do I make of this?  A few things.


1.  Men are at a serious disadvantage when it comes to making plans
2.  Women are very sensitive about when they are asked to do something
3.  It's amazing that men and women ever, EVER get together and mate.  

Seriously, though, men have to work at this sort of thing.  Bachelors especially have a way of blithely cruising along in life assuming that every relationship is like the ones they have with their buddies.  We know instinctively that relationships with women are different, the problem is, we don't want them to be.  We WANT to be able to call a woman up at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon and ask them to do something and know they'll say yes. 

Women, I could spend hours telling you why men don't call until the day before they want you to do soemthing, but you'll never get it.  It's kind of just how we're wired.  But you have to know that just because we wait to make plans, it doesn't mean we don't enjoy spending time with you.  We do.  We really want to hang out and laugh and have fun and maybe hook up late at night when the rest of the world is sleeping. 

But frankly, we're lazy.  Plus, we're creatures of habit.  Thinking about what we want to do on a Saturday night when it's still only Tuesday, requires a skill set that we're simply not naturally equipped with, particularly bachelors, who tend to fly by the seat of their pants a lot. 

You also have to know that by demanding that we make our plans with you three to five days in advance reeks of control and a bit of high maintenance.  To you, out waiting until the last moment to make plans with you is disrepectful to you.  To us, though, demanding three to five days to make plans seems a bit, well, controlling and arrogant.  It's as if you expect us to make you the most important things in our lives, when, really, we're still probably trying to figure out what the relationship is all about.

And for the men, it's pretty simple.  If you're really interested in spending time with a woman, maybe you should consider making plans farther in advance than just a few hours.  Don't go overboard.  I mean, you don't have to make huge plans, like a carriage ride or dinner at a swanky restaurant every time.  It could be as simple as a concert in the park or drinks at a local bar.  Just don't wait until the last minute because, as you have seen, if you wait, you're likely going to be out of luck.

And you don't even have to make definitive plans, as I've found out.  Every woman I talked to mentioned that a heads up is all that's really necessary.  If, say, on a Tuesday you think you want to go see a show, drop her a message and let her know that you're tentatively planning on doing just that, and that you'd love it if she'd go with you.  To many women, this is tantamount to asking her to go with you.  If she's interested in you, if she wants to spend time with you, she'll likely set that night aside to do something with you, even if it's not the play, she'll already be planning on doing SOMETHING with you that night.  All you have to do is drop her a mention the day before to remind her that you're planning on doing something with her.  Now you've contacted her twice, and both times well in advance of the actual "date".  You win major brownie points for that, trust me.

I get it.  Making plans in advance shows respect to the woman you're trying to connect with.  It shows them that you value them and respect their time constraints.  Yes, it's a little high maintenance, and yes, it's a little controlling, but really, guys, what's your other option?  Sitting at home alone on a Friday night watching the Sci-Fi network, or hanging out with the boys again?  sure, those are fun things to do every now and then.  But nothing beats hanging out with an attractive woman, and if you want to do that, I've learned, both through experience, and through some fascinating conversations, that the only way that is likely to happen is if you plan in advance. 

Hey, it's a small sacrifice to make, right guys?

The Complex, Part Deux

Hello my friends.  It's been a while and I have so much to catch up on.  Observations and comments and insights, it'll take a while to get back up to speed.  I had to take a moment, though, to write about where I live.  Actually, to comment in general about life in a high-rise.  I have to say, I absolutely enjoy living in a high-rise.  I've already written about some of the pros and cons about it in previous entries.  There are a multitude of interesting people, the care and upkeep is minimal, and, most importantly, few bugs.

One of the greatest things about living in a high-rise is the elevator experience.  See, one of the most enjoyable moments I have living in my complex is riding the elevators up and down from home, to lobby, to the gym, to the laundry and so on.

Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator, three times!  I imagine this is what it looked like from the outside.

Here's what I particularly enjoy about the elevators:  The people.  Not only are there a bunch of outrageous characters living here, but many of them are women of all shapes, sizes and demeanor.  Seriously, do the math.  There are 44 floors.  With the exception of the first floor and the second floor (private lofts, four of them) there are 12 apartments per floor.  Given that there is AT LEAST one person living in every apartment, that means there are 528 residents living here at any given time.  Now, since I KNOW there are at least two people living in most of the apartments here, I'm going to shoot that up to about 1,000 residents, give or take a hundred or so residing around me. 

It's kind of like a bachelor's dream.  Going by the national statistics, if there are 1,000 residents in my building, then at least four to five hundred of them are, statistically speaking, women.  Every single day I ride up and down in my elevator, chances are good I will be riding with a woman. 

The elevator rides are always an adventure.  I'm not talking about a couple going at it like rabbits once the door closes, only to emerge looking dishevelled and in a daze.  But the mere experience of riding elevators is something I've always enjoyed, and not because I'm whizzing upwards in a metal box controlled by computers and cables and maintained by angry, gruff technicians. 

There's something fun about the awkwardness of two people, complete strangers, riding alone in an elevator.  I'm a large man, I can be intimidating sometimes.  A lot of the women I ride up with are smaller, more petite women, mostly dancers or chorus girls in shows at the performing arts center.  They're attractive, they always seem very nervous.  I don't stare, but it's hard not to look at them as they stand near the front of the elevator, fidgeting with their purses or staring at their phones.

In time, though, if they stick around long enough, or if they live here, we all get to recognize each other and I've had some interesting conversations in those rides.  I've chatted with a girl on the fourth floor about music, a woman on the 19th floor about public relations, I've had conversations about BP, politics, sports and even relationships.

Of course these are all short conversations.  Three minutes, tops.  And since we both know these are short rides, we somehow manage to cut through all the polite banter and get right down to business.  Of course we say hi to each other and then a question or observation sparks the conversation and suddenly we're talking as if we're long lost friends.

As I've stated previously, I've been living in high-rises for a long time now, five years here, four years in another complex, three years before that in a different building.  Oddly enough, even though all of these complexes are separated by miles of road and situated in very different economic areas, each of them have some interesting things in common.  Of course, the elevators have similarities too, such as the strange smells, the stuffy-hot atmosphere and the occasional dog pee on the floor.

First, I believe that every high-rise has screwy fire alarms.  I'm usually up late or working from home, and in every building, the alarms have gone off randomly at all hours of the day or night.  You get used to the alarm going off for no reason.  So it came as a huge surprise one night when the alarm went off around 2am one night a couple of years ago.  Right before the alarm went off, my lights had flickered on and off.  It was kind of spooky, actually.  Then the alarm went off and about five minutes later, I lost all electricity.  It was strange, so I walked out into my hallway and to my shock, smoke was billowing out from underneath the electrical door and out from the elevator doors. 

A moment of panic set in as I tried to figure out what exactly was going on.  For so long a fire alarm was simply a distraction, a nuisance.  But now it seemed as if it was a real, honest-to-goodness fire...in my building!  In my sweats and t-shirt, I grabbed my phone and started walking down the pitch black staircase. 

Slowly, I was joined by several other folks who had been rudely jolted awake by the blaring alarm and the smell of smoke.  I chatted with several lovely women while I waited outside for four hours for the fire department to clear the building. 

One of the other interesting commonalities in each building is the people.  It seems as if every single high rise in the world has the same mix of individuals living within its walls.  There is the strange couple that looks at everybody as if they were criminals.  They don't speak much, they squint when they look at you and they mumble when they say hello.  For a while this couple lived right next door to me.  They had, well, I guess they still have, a small dog, a tiny dog, a poodle I think, that they take for a walk four to five times a day. 

I have to clarify when I say "take for a walk" because really, they carry the little dog around in a miniature pet carrier.  The front of the carrier is open and the dog sits with its front paws hanging out the front with its head just barely poking out from underneath the little blue curtain that hangs down from the top.  They lived next door to me for about a year, before moving to a lower floor.  I don't know if I made them move, I might have.  I kind of terrorized them, I think.  I don't throw a lot of parties, but when I do, they tend to get a little rowdy and loud. 

More than once, I would get a call from the front desk, or a knock on my door.  "Please be quiet" they would say.  And then another call or knock, another request.  This would go on a few times, until, more than once, a very angry and tired-looking neighbor, dog carrier in hand, slippers on his feet would pound on my door.  I was drunk, he was red-faced, he'd yell, I'd blow him off.  That was pretty much the nature of our relationship.

So, I can understand why he might look at me with disdain.  But he looks at everyone like that.  It's strange.  Even his dog seems to look at people with a suspicious glint in its beady little eyes.  Every time I see him now, he's still taking his dog for a walk, and he still mumbles when he says hello.

Then there's the person I call "the nervous one".  In every instance, this is a middle-aged woman, generally tallish, skinny, wearing glasses and dressed like a 1950's librarian.  In my last building the "nervous one" never actually spoke to anyone.  She mostly talked to herself and stared straight ahead.  I think people truly frightened her.  I don't mean, made her fidgety, but really, REALLY scared her. 

In my building now, the "nervous one" looks much like all of the other "nervous ones," tall, skinny, dressed in severe gray skirts and buttoned up blouses and horn rimmed glasses.  She rushes around as if she's always late for something and never, ever talks to anyone.  She happens to live a few floors below me, so I catch a ride with her from time to time.  Two days ago, she actually said hello to me.  I was so shocked, I almost didn't reply.  It was just the two of us in the elevator, but I thought she might have a phone in her hear and was talking to someone else. 

I finally said hello back and she commented on the heat and something about her neighbor's dog keeping her awake at night.  I'm not sure if she thought I was someone else, or what exactly happened.  In four years, this lady has never said a single word to me, or anyone else in our building as far as I know.  And here she was being practically verbose. 

There are a ton of other characters in the building...the slutty women, the slutty guys, the angry couple, the couple that is WAAAYYY too in love and takes every advantage of public displays of affection to let the rest of the world know exactly how much in love they really are.  Recently we even got our own Balke.  Unless you're over 30 years old, you probably have no idea who Balke is.  He's a character from an old TV show called "Perfect Strangers".  Balke was a foriegner, living with a cousin in New York, or some big city.  It was your basic fish out of water story, hilarity ensued. 

Our Balke, is just like that character, only real.  He chats away, happy as can be, but no one really understands what he's saying.  He has a high pitched voice, is timid, doesn't look anyone directly in the eye, but still he chats away to anyone who will listen or respond.  We've had fascinating conversations during our rides together.  I'm not sure what we talked about, I think it's mostly about the weather, but it's hard to walk away from those conversations in a bad mood.  Cheery and seemingly clueless might not be such a bad way to go through life. 

Sure, there are the fights you hear at 4am, the drunken parties who's pumping music filters down to you at midnight on a Tuesday, and the whoops and hollers from inebriated men and women as they stumble back to their apartments. 

All in all, though, it's great living in a high-rise for no other reason than the elevator rides.  As I stated, I've yet to get a date from my ups and downs.  I have been stuck in my elevator for a few hours, I napped.  Not so surprisingly, I found myself wondering why I had to get stuck by myself in the elevator instead of with one of the single dancers living on the 10th floor.  Oh well, it could have been worse, I could have been stuck with my angry neighbor or with the "nervous one". 

Check back soon, I'll be discussing the issue of juggling, and I'm not talking about circus juggling, either. 

I HAVE to get out more!

So, I'm a drinker.  I'm not an alcoholic, I just like to drink.  I likes my adult beverages.  I also like to tell stories.  I'm a drinker and a talker.  Some guys are lovers, some are fighters...I like to drink and talk.  I days past I would have been relegated to sitting on an old log sporting a robe and a long white beard smelling of plum wine and rambling on about the "days of yore".  On the one had, that guy never got laid.  On the other hand, he DID preserve the cultural history of his people, so, I guess it's a trade-off.

Therefore, it's not a huge surprise that I wandered down to a wine bar on Wednesday night to partake in what is called, "The Narrators" series.  Basically, it's just a bunch of artists, comedians and writers gathering in a hipster bar to ramble on about personal incidents and throw back a few two-dollar PBR's.

Just look at the crowd waiting for my story...not.

 Storytellers Wanted:

I joined in the fun because a friend of mine from L.A. was coming back to town to do some shows and she was participating in the event and encouraged a bunch of us to also get involved.  Now, a few things about this lady.  First, she is perhaps one of the funniest people I've ever met.  Truly a comic genius.  Second, she's also the same gal that somehow managed to talk me into doing stand-up, not once, but twice.  Both times compeltely sober (my third stand-up effort involved a lot of alcohol and a seedy bar, so it doesn't count).

It's odd how she has some kind of comedic sway over me.  Probably the only woman in the world that I don't have a crush on that could actually talk me into doing stand-up more than once.   I wanted to see her perform, and I wanted to see how I'd do in that environment.

I got there early, about an hour early, because I misread the time on the invitation.  That was fine, it gave me time to partake of the cheap beers on tap at the Paris Wine Bar.  And by cheap beers I mean the one cider they had in a can for two bucks and the one dollar Pabst.  Eventually, people I knew showed up and we all gathered in the back room for storytime.  There were ten "narrators" on the docket and each one was supposed to have only ten minutes.

Of course, you KNEW this wasn't going to happen.  At ten minutes, ten storytellers, that should have amounted to just under two hours.  Give it a full 120 minutes with people getting up and sitting down and the host time.  As it turns out, we weren't done until about 10:30, so...you do the math.  SOMEONE went longer than ten minutes, right?

I enjoyed the stories, I didn't wow the folks, but I didn't embarass myself, and sometimes that's all you can hope for.  I told an old radio story.  It wasn't funny, but I made up for it by sitting on a stool and not making eye contact, so, it was all good.  But that's not what this entry is about.  No indeed.

A Lovely Surprise:

Because afterwards, all of the performers and some of the random folks sitting around watching the show mingled and shook hands and told everyone how much they enjoyed the others' story.  I didn't really know anyone else there outside of the couple of people I met there.  But as I was chatting with the organizer of the event, a very pretty girl walked up to me and stood in front of me, not saying anything.

Of course I noticed her, but I didn't know her and I just figured she was waiting for me to get out of the way of the very narrow aisle that led to the front door.  I stepped aside, but she didn't move, she just stood there.  After about two minutes, I said my goodbyes to the the host and I turned to look directly at her.  Without saying anything, she just put her arms around me and held me for an awkwardly long time.  I'm not talking about five minutes, but when a complete stranger does a drive-by hug, even 30 seconds can seem like a very long time.

After what seemed like forever, the young lady pulled herself back from me and grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes and simply said, "I loved your story, I...I loved your story."  Here's what I heard.  "I want to have sex with you."

Yes, I know, that's not what she said.  But you have to understand that what a woman says isn't always what a man, particularly a bachelor, hears.  I'll admit she was pretty.  Very pretty in a librarian, curly dirty blonde hair pulled back with glasses, fair skin and striking green eyes sort of way.  It took me a second to respond, because I truly didnt' expect anyone to come up to me and talk to me about my story.  It was grim, it wasn't funny, it was just a straightforward story.  Not even close to the best I could do.  But she seemed very smitten with the retelling of my story.

I grabbed her hand back and thanked her profusely for her compliment.  It was crowded as people were starting to file out and make plans for the rest of their Wednesday night.  Well, really it was just crowded in the very spot we were standing in because we were smack dab in the only walkway between the back room and the front door.

After thanking her, I didn't know what else to say.  But she was still grabbing my hand and I was still grabbing hers, so it felt like I needed to say something.  So I asked her if she had an interest in journalism.  To which she replied, "I'm a freelance journalist myself, and I found your story so fascinating."  It was like I had turned on a firehose.  For the next ten minutes she just kept talking.

At this point I started trying to figure out how to transition from random stranger conversation to something more intimate.  I was in luck because we HAD to get out of the way of everyone trying to leave, so I slowly led her over to the bar and kind of sat her down in the one open barstool.  We chatted for a while, talking about journalism, the media, the Iraq war, politics, writing and comedy.

Of course, you won't be surprised when I tell you that she is significantly younger than I am.  And of course you won't be surprised when I tell you that I simply didn't care.  Sadly, after about 30 minutes of chatting, I asked if she wanted to go somewhere and get a drink.  To which she replied, "I'm not sure, I have to see what my boyfriend is doing."

Grrrrrr.  A disappointment, to be sure, but at the same time, I had a revelation.  I haven't spent nearly enough time getting out to the clubs and bars and wine houses and partaking of the myriad of fun things available in town.  I didn't get the girls number, for obvious reasons, but it was nice to be appreciated.

I have to send out a special thanks to Meredith and Michelle, Sarah and Michael for also being there.  Sara and Michelle were performing as well, but Mere simply came down to show support, which meant a lot.  But at the end of the night, I realized that since I'm not doing as much improv as I have been the past several years, I have a chance to get out and do things outside of the community I've been involved with for such a long time.  I still want to do things with those people as well, as much as I can, but I also have to get out and meet total strangers from time to time as well.

Just tonight our apartment complex had their annual "Pool Party" complete with free food, free alcohol and prizes.  I reconnected with some of the handful of people I know from riding the elevators for the past four years, and met some new folks.  I danced to Frank Sinatra with a retired ballarina dancer and shared a mojito with a lovely, overworked female lawyer.

The point is, and I know a few other bachelors that understand this as well, I simply have to get out more.  If this means grabbing Mere and dragging her to places where we can both meet people, then that's what I'll do.  Hell, we could both use a one night stand if nothing else with some mysterious, hot stranger.  Regardless, I've enjoyed this recent foray back into the social scene.  I'll keep you all posted on how it goes!

Dancing Fool!

I'm a guy.  I've been a guy my entire life.  Being a guy, there are a few givens that I have dealt with from time to time.  These are pretty much universal truths that govern the way men, particulary single men, bachelors, think and act.  It's like the law of gravity, only with gender issues.

I call these constants the "Bachelor Laws".  Of course these laws will differ slightly from bachelor to bachelor, and in different regions and probably different countries.  But for the most part, these are the rules that we bachelors follow, whether we want to or not...it's instinct.

"Well you can tell by the way I use my walk..."  Eh, dancing sucks!

They aren't complicated, and even women, if they've ever spent any time around bachelors, are aware of them.  Here are a few to get acquainted with:

1.  You never cry at a sad movie in public...unless you're with a woman and you want to show your "softer" side so you can score later.


2.  The man always pays on the first date.


3.  Slapstick is funny, explosions are cool, ninjas are awesome. (a note here, it's not essential that bachelors like the Three Stooges, but they DO have to like one of the following movies or their bachelor card is revoked; The Blues Brothers, Caddyshack, Spinal Tap, Airplane or Animal House).


4.  Drinking is an acceptable form of recovery from a breakup.


5.  Porn is a basic fundamental right.


6.  You are required to punch Kenny G square in the face if you ever see him in person.


7.  Ogling is okay as long as you don't say things like, "hubba hubba" or "Holy Crap, would you look at those things!"


8.  Never be afraid to make the first move.


9.  You can enjoy the opera and gardening as long as you also enjoy boxing and/or football.


10.  No bachelor "enjoys" dancing, it's merely a way to hook up with a woman.

Not That There's Anything WRONG With That...

These are simply a handful of the laws that govern the actions of bachelors.  There are a lot more, rules that deal with cooking, working out, dating, fighting, etc.  But for a moment, I'd like to focus on the last of the ten rules I posted above.  You know, the one about dancing.

I get a lot of flack for my take on dancing.  However, I don't think I'm off base on this.  I have known a lot of guys in my time.  Guys who are graceful, tall, slender, fat and short.  These are guys from all walks of life and different backgrounds and the one thing I can honestly say we have all had in common is out general dislike for dancing.  Don't get me wrong, it's not that we hate dancing in general.  I mean, we'll sit and watch a ballet, or we'll watch women bounce and jiggle all over the floor.  It's just that if presented with a variety of activity options for the night, we will almost never willingly choose to go dancing. 

I know, I know, "But Chris," you say, "I know a ton of guys who LOVE to dance."  I don't doubt that you do.  And for the most part I can put these men into one of two categories.  One group of dancing men are the exceptions that prove the rule.  The other group of men are gay. 

Listen, there's nothing wrong with being gay.  But for the most part, men who really like dancing are, well...gay.  Yes, there are those cowboys who like to line dance...that isn't dancing, though, it's more like organized group activity.  Like water aerobics on dry land.  There are those ballet dancers, the ones who wear the really tight leotards that just happens to highlight their package in a way nature never intended.  I'm not sure those guys are gay, they probably just like dancing with hot chicks and getting paid for it.

Anyway, the point is, I don't enjoy dancing, never have.  And I'm actually a graceful fella.  I CAN dance, if I have to.  I can do the salsa and I'm a particularly good slow dancer.  But by and large when I'm in an environment that involves dancing, I'm the one standing at the bar watching everyone else get sweaty.

My Dancing Disaster:

I did once actually recommend dancing as part of a date years and years ago.  I was just out of college and a woman I'd known for some time hooked up with me at a house party.  The following weekend, I asked if she wanted to go dancing.  Now, I did this for two reasons.  1.) I knew she liked to dance and I wanted to take her someplace I thought she'd enjoy.  2.) She also enjoyed country music so I asked her to the Grizzly Rose, a big country bar just outside of Denver.

Now, the Rose has a live band of some sort just about every night and a huge dance floor right in front of the stage that is fenced off like some kind of corral.  I don't like country music, and I can't two-step.  So you can imagine how I had to psych myself up for the evening.  Still, it was for her and I wanted her to be happy.  We showed up at the place around 10pm on a Thursday night.  There was a live band playing all sorts of twangy country tunes, some original, some covers. 

She knew how to two-step, I already mentioned I didn't know how.  She was cool about it and danced with a couple of guys before insisting I get out there and take a lesson from her.  I did and, in reality, the two-step isn't a particularly difficult dance, I mean, it's really just two steps, shuffle shuffle, move.  The music is simple, I picked it up pretty quick.

That's when disaster struck.  There were about 15 couples on the floor at the time, all moving around in a circle, which is apparently what you do when you do the two step.  It reminded me of a big barn dance.  We were going around as easy as could be, talking a little, laughing a lot, when my date decided to up the ante a bit.  Without saying a word, she pushed me away and said, "now it gets fun!"

I wasn't ready, not ready at all, for anything out of the ordinary and it caught me off guard.  She grabbed my right arm, put her hand on my waist and spun me around.  She did it so fast, I didn't have time to react.  In an instant, she had thrown me out, spun me and brought me back in, all while not missing a beat in the two step dance.  Well, that seems pretty simple, I thought to myself.  So as we rounded the bend, she asked if I wanted to give it a try.  Of course I did.  I wanted to show her I was the man, I could lead, I could dance her silly little two step and do flips and twists, dammit.

The next moment happened in slow motion, like one of those movies where the hero gets shot and time suddenly stands still and you helplessly watch as the bullet enters the chest and papers and blood fly everwhere while someone just off camera yells, "Noooooooooo!" 

yeah, it was just like that.  I grabbed her at the waist and flung her out in front of me, still holding on to her right hand.  And then it happened.  My feet somehow got crossed and when I started to pull her back in, I lost my balance.  I started to fall, but I didn't want to drag her down with me, so I took my left arm and pushed her aside, which didn't help, because she got caught up in my legs and toppled herself.

As I fell backwards, and she fell off to my right, an elderly couple just kept dancing towards me.  Because my hands were occupied as I fell, I couldn't break my fall and I fell squarely on my ass, my momentum carrying me backwards.  I knew if I didn't try to stop my movement, or gain control of it at least, my head was going to slam into the floor, so I raised my legs to try and do a reverse tumble roll.  Sadly, as I kicked my legs up to help me roll over backwards, the elderly couple finally saw what was happening in front of them. 

I remember the look on the elderly woman's face, a mixture of horror and confusion as her mind put all the pieces together.  They were too close to get out of the way, and their reflexes too slow to save them from getting hit...hard.

I did roll over, but as my head whipped up, it hit the elderly man smack dab in the gut.  I heard an "oomph!" as he double over.  The woman refused to let go of her man and got dragged backwards as my momentum took us all about five steps in reverse.  I couldnt' see what was happening behind me, I could only feel it.  I knew I hit the man hard and I could hear the woman scream a little as they crumpled into a heap, my body landing right on top of both of them.  Then there was another set of legs all tangled up with us.  A woman's show hit my head, a foot nailed me in the ribs and suddenly there were two bodies lying on top of me.

We apparently had been flung so far back, we hit the couple behind the elderly couple, who, again, just didn't see the disaster coming.  In the aftermath, I envisioned a giant car crash on the freeway, where the semi-truck jacknifes and wipes out about ten cars and all that's left is wreckage and engine fluids and steam rising from the rubble.  For a second I thought I heard the requiem from Full Metal Jacket playing in the background.

There was groaning and my side hurt, as did my butt.  I got the couple off of me and then rolled over so I could get off the couple I had destroyed.  By that time, my date and a few other folks had come over to give us all a hand.  And then I saw it.  There was a pool of blood on the floor.  To be fair, there was blood kind of everywhere.  It turns out the old man had tried to stop his fall and put his hand out.  He promptly broke his wrist and his face hit the floor.  Amy had tripped and hit her head on the stupid fence that ran along the outside of the dance floor and when my head hit the man, I cut my scalp on the dudes oversized belt buckle.  It looked like a MASH unit.

I apologized to the dazed couple and to my date and to anyone within earshot of my voice.  I couldn't have felt worse.  Frankly, I was truly just glad that no one died.  Seriously, I nearly killed an old man while doing the two step at the Grizzly Rose.  I vowed from that day forward I would never dance again...or at the very least, never do the two step again at the Rose.

Dancing For My Art:

I bring this up because one of the ways a bachelor can catch the attention of a woman he's attracted to is dance.  Like it or not, being able to dance is a sure fire way to meet a woman.  If a bachelor can dance, he can always go up and ask a woman out on the floor.  Plus, dancing IS a great way to break the ice.  Let's face it, dancing is sexual in nature.  Men will dance only because sex might be involved.  Women dance because they actually like it.  I never understood that, I never will, but them's the rules and I follow them because it's the law. 

I also mention this because I'm in an improv group that sings.  We improvise musicals on the spot.  This means the characters, the plot, the music, the lyrics, all made up on the spot.  Another element of musicals is dancing.  We've been working, as a group, on dancing and getting better; and we have.  But I'm pretty much the weak link when it comes to the dancing part, so I'm trying to get better at it. 

Last Sunday we rehearsed on the 16th Street Mall because we didn't have a keyboard available to us in the club, but there are a bunch of pianos just sitting on the mall for people to play if they want to (Don't ask me, it's part of the city's summer art program).  We were out there, with our pianist, grabbing people as they walked by and asking them for suggestions for songs.  Then we'd stand around and just sing for them.  It turned out to be a great way to promote our upcoming show, but at one point I couldn't help but think how cool it would be if we also did a little dance to go along with our song.  How impressed would people be then, right?

But for the moment, we'll have to stick with the songs, at least until we get better at dancing as a group, or until I can do it without significantly injuring someone.  So cross your fingers as I attempt to improve my dancing abilities.  Hopefully no one dies and even though I won't enjoy it, I know it's for the good of the group, which is more important. 

I'll keep you updated.  Until then, stay cool my bachelor and bachelorette friends.  Next entry will be after the Fourth Of July and will update the parties I'm attending.  Should be fun!