On Weddings and Funerals

I hate weddings.  Always have.  Maybe it's because the majority of weddings I've attended have had the word "Catholic" attached to it in some way.  For those of you in the unwashed masses category, this tranlates into what I affectionately call, "Church Aerobics".  Stand up, sit down, pray, pray, pray!  It also means long.  Like, REALLY long.  There are candles to be lit, songs to sing, sermons to shout, prayers to pray, wine and little rice cake-like discs to be consumed and then, oh, yeah, there's an actual wedding in there somewhere.

By and large, weddings are awkward, angst-filled events sprinkled with drunken speeches, resentment, fear and sloppy, late-night, desperately sloppy hookups between bridesmaids, jealous that they're not the one being married and groomsmen looking to add a notch to their bedpost. 


As you know, weddings are broken up into two separate events.  There's the ceremony itself, and then there's the reception.  Receptions suck, because it focuses on dancing, particularly dancing with the bride, sometimes pinning money on her dress and drinking...heavily.  The family is usually in attendance so everyone tends to be on good behaviour and friends often sit around and chat uselessly while the couple poses for pictures, smashes cake in each others' faces and tries not to spill champagne so they can get the deposit back on the tux rental.

I want karaoke at my wake, preferably backed by this band.

The Wedding Crasher:

I always feel out of place, and a little sad at weddings.  I keep envisioning the horrible break up that inevitably will come five or ten years down the road and the court fight over who gets to keep the Mac and who gets the flatscreen.  Unless there's an open bar, I rarely see the point of attending most weddings. 

I make an exception for close friends and family members.  But even then...there had better be an open bar.  Perhaps this is why I partake of my own little wedding tradition whenever I have to go to a nuptials gathering.  I wrap up a bottle of Jack Daniels, place it on the wedding gifts table with a little note attached.  I smile as I place it gently between the ill-disguised china setting and new set of knives, just imagining the looks on the faces of my newly married compatriots as they unwrap my present and read the note that says, "Do not open until divorce."

Crude? Yes.  Mean? I don't think so, given the statistics for divorce in the U.S. these days.  Inappropriate?  Maybe.  Cynical?  Oh, hell yes.  I've yet to get a truly angry response from the folks I've given this gift to, and to the best of my knowledge, the bottles remain unopened, so, I guess that's a good thing.

I know a number of friends who actually enjoy going to weddings.  Guy friends.  Bachelor guy friends.  Of course, their primary reasons for going to weddings is, A) The bachelor party and B) hitting on drunk bridesmaids or other random women in attendance.

I get this.  I mean, it makes total sense.  People tend to act desperately at weddings.  A lot of women start to feel the biological clock ticking away at weddings and start looking hungrily at the bevy of bachelors wandering around with a Bud light in one hand and a poor-fitting cumberbund slouching around the midwaist.  Meanwhile, a lot of men start to feel inadequate that they haven't been able to get hitched and beging thinking about a conquest to once again prove their manhood.  The whole scene makes me feel dirty.  Hitting on a woman at a wedding feels sleazy, slimy, like I'm taking advantage or abusing my power or something.

Life and Death:

And then there's the funeral.  I enjoy funerals.  No, I'm not morbid. I don't go crashing funerals looking for kicks.  And generally, because I often know the person who has died, it's a sad day.  But here's the thing.  Whereas weddings seem to represent an ending of sorts, as well as the beginning of something totally uncertain, funerals are final, completely certain, unchanging.  There is a kind of peace that surrounds funerals.  Yes, there is sorrow and there is loss.  But there's none of the desperation I often see at weddings. 

Like weddings, funerals are often divided into two parts, the service and burial, which is where the mourning and rememberances take place.  And then there's the wake.  The wake, I like.  I'm no Goth or necrophiliac, I don't have a death fetish.  I just really, REALLY like wakes.  Because the wake is a time of rejoicing.  No, not rejoicing the death of a friend of loved one, but a time to rejoice the time spent with that individual.  It's a time to tell stories and jokes and remember all the good things about the person who just passed on.  It's a time to laugh and cry and reconnect with others who you might have lost track of over time. 

I find it to be a time of renewal as well.  An opportunity to take stock of your own life and re-energize to do all those things you've wanted to do before you yourself pass away.  It's a reminder that life is short, laughter is beautiful and love is fleeting.  While weddings seem so concocted to me, funerals seem real, with all the warts and happiness and sadness that is real life. 

Perhaps this is why I have picked up an alarming number of dates at funerals.  Well, not exactly AT the funerals, but at the wakes.  At a wake, the defenses are down, the emotions are real and no one is "searching" for a love connection; if it happens, it happens. 

The Hook-Up:

Ten years ago, I attended a funeral of an old friend.  It was someone I used to work with in radio, and he had passed away suddenly.  I had moved on to working in television news at that point, but still had close connections to some of my radio pals. 

We all got dressed up and attended the funeral.  It felt odd being a pallbearer, since many of the people in attendance didn't know me, they were new to the radio station.  We sat glumly through the service and slowly made our way to the burial.  It was a crisp, beautiful fall Colorado day.  The sun was out, but it was cool, almost cold as a breeze ran through the bare branches and played with the leaves scattered across the cemetery grass. 

The shadows were long and the air was light.  It felt like football weather, and I remember thinking that at least my friend got to see the Broncos win the Superbowl, twice, before he died.  That made me smile.

Afterwards, a bunch of us went to a bar that our friend used to frequent regularly.  It's a small little place just on the edge of downtown Denve, bordered by high-rises on one side and parking lots and Five Points on the other side.  20 years ago, it marked the border between the safe part of the city and the part where you wouldn't walk alone after dark.  It was a bar that hand't changed in 30 years and still had pictures of patrons, some famous, most not so famous, some infamous, in cheap frames all over the walls. 

The bar had graciously opened early and gave us the run of the place until it's normal opening hour of 4pm.  We had about three hours to drink toasts and tell stories.  And we did.  We whooped it up.  Journalists are already a hard-drinking lot, give them a REASON to let loose and, well, it can quickly turn into a wake that makes even the Irish green with envy. 

The whiskey and beer flowed.  Stories were told and retold, each time our friends' exploits growing grander and grander.  At some point, I had noticed a young, long-haired brunette sitting at the end of the table, not saying much, laughing a little, drinking even less.  I didn't know her, but my buddy who still worked at the radio station did.  She was a relatively new sales rep and had become good friends with our deceased friend.

She was pretty, had huge brown eyes and long black hair.  I was immediately hypnotized.  I made the regular checks every bachelor makes; no ring, check, no visible scars, check, no slight ticks or odd behaviour, check.  I was curious and on my way back from the bar with my fifth Jack and coke, I took a seat next to her and introduced myself.

She seemed shy, but not elusive.  I asked her how she knew my friend and she told me that he had kind of taken her under his wing when she first started working at the station. 

"That old dog," I thought to myself.  Typical of him to become a mentor to a pretty, young, shy woman.  Why, it's exactly the kind of thing I would do.  I told her how I knew him and proceeded to tell her a story of the first time I met my friend.  It's a funny story and one I've told a few times over the years. 

By the time I was finished, the entire table was listening and we all were having a good laugh, raising our drinks in a heartfelt toast.  Everyone, that is, except for Jennifer, the lovely woman sitting next to me who prompted me to tell the story in the first place.  She raised for a toast and she was smiling, but there was still a sadness to her that was almost heartbreaking.

Within a few minutes, another story was being told at the other end of the table and attention had shifted away.  The two of us sat there, surrounded by people, but feeling very much in our own world, not saying anything, just sipping on our drinks.  Finally, she looked up from her beer and asked me, "Why were you smiling at the funeral?"

The question caught me by surprise.  It's like those moments when you you're singing in your car, and you KNOW that people can see you as you drive down the highway jamming out to Bon Jovi, but you nevr really believe that anyone is really watching you until you look over and see some kid staring at you through the rear passenger window.  It's a little unnerving. 

I immediately started to wonder how many other people had caught me quietly smiling to myself.  I responded the only way I could.

"You saw that?"
"It was hard to miss," she said.

Maybe it was the jack and coke's, maybe I was just feeling a little courageous, but I took that as a signal.  I mean, if she saw me smiling at the funeral, she must have been looking at me, right?  It wasn't like I was front and center at the service or burial.  In fact the only time I was even remotely visible was when I was acting as a pallbearer.  All of this was running through my mind in the matter of about five seconds, a bachelor's mind is amazingly quick under the right circumstances. 

"So, why were you smiling at the funeral?" she asked again.
What could I say?  I told her the truth.  "I was thinking about football."

NOW she laughed.  "The Broncos, right?" she replied, taking a big swig of her beer.
"Of course," I said.  "I was thinking how his timing was perfect, waiting for the Superbowl wins and Elway's retirement.  It was like he planned it."
"I just don't think he waned to see a Broncos team without john," she said, still laughing.

And just like that, the ice was broken.  We hadn't gone to the funeral to meet anyone.  It wasn't on our radar.  But the death of our mutual friend brought us together.  There was a chemistry and a spark and once she relaxed, we started talking.  We talked about everything.  Sales, history, music, sports, our friend, radio, television, news, movies, books.  We spent hours talking.  Before either of us knew it, the wake was over, the crowd grew and then dissipated and then it was time to go home.  Hours had passed and we had lost ourselves in each other.  We found comfort in each others words and presence. 

A Renewing Event:

Saying goodnight in a situation like that can often be awkward.  A couple meets at a funeral, they spend hours talking, getting to know each other, the feeling is relaxed and there's no pressure.  But then you have to make a choice to see where the relationship could go.  Do you let it just simmer and be friends and give a quick peck on the cheek or a "friends" hug where you pat them on the back like a good buddy?  Or do you be bold and ask them out, knowing that because you met at a funeral, it might seem a little crude? 

But there was none of that.  By the time I had walked her back to her car, we both knew there was something there.  Neither one of us was looking for anything serious.  We both knew that there was no pressure.  We wanted to see each other again.  It was unspoken.  We exchanged phone numbers, hugged and then kissed each other goodnight.  It was a long, passionate kiss that made me regret, a little, not asking her back to my place.  And then she drove off.

We saw each other again, and dated for about four months.  It was never serious and we eventually drifted apart.  But we remained friends and I really enjoyed the time I spent with her.  Most of my funeral "hook-ups" are similar in nature.  Just quality conversation that turns into something fun for both parties.  The deal here is that neither party goes to the funeral looking for a hook up.

So invite me to a wedding.  I'll go, I'll partake of the open bar, I might even bring along a date so we can sit in the back and amuse ourselves by making snarky comments about the guests and the happy couple and their overbearing families.  I'll give my "gift" and laugh later that night as I imagine the fury of the bride when she sees the note.

But I'll take a wake, thank you, when I want quality conversation, real emotions and a spirit-reviving experience.  Take note, bachelors, you can't be "on the prowl" at a funeral, that's just not right.  But if you play your cards right at the wake, you can definitely find someone worth spending time with.  Plus, and this is important, funeral sex is way better than drunk bridesmaid sex any day.  Trust me on this one fellas. 

Bachelor Alone-ness

I live in a high-rise.  I've lived here for a while, and, with any luck, I'll be living here for a while longer.  I like living in high rises.  For the past 12 years, I've lived in a high-rise of some sort.  I like high-rises for various reasons.  One, no bugs.  It's not that I'm afraid of bugs, except spiders, I'm terrified of spiders and I hate them.  Truly, I really, really hate them.  But for the most part, high-rises are devoid of bugs in general. 

A lot of high-rises also come with parking, which is good in town with crappy parking and police that hand out tickets like John Wayne Gasey handed out lolipops to underage teen boys.  I also like the fact that most high-rises have balconies.  Just about every apartment I've lived in has had a balcony and was located near a bar.  This is particularly fun around 2am when the bars close and the show begins.

You KNOW you want it baby, Yeah!

Honestly, I'll often just wander out to my balcony around closing time just to watch people stumble around, throw up in the gutter or engage in what I call drunk fights.  These are different from real fights in the fact that, usually, neither party can really stand up straight, keep their balance or throw a real punch.  It's usually a lot of yelling and smack talk, followed up by some shoving or the traditional "drunk male chest bump" which is then usually followed by a slap or a punch.  The great thing about drunk fights is that the punch generally ends up knocking both people down and then they roll around for a minute while their friends come in to break things up.  It's like clockwork. 

Then there's the always fun lovers' spat.  A guy and girl stand on the corner and air all their dirty laundry publicly.  The woman is generally hysterical because the guy, A) looked at another woman, B) forgot something important, or C) is drunk...again.  It doesn't really matter, it's fun to watch, even from 20 stories up.  You'd be surprised how much of a conversation you can hear that high up, especially when they're yelling at the top of their lungs.  Oh, you hear the usual, "WOOO'S" and "HOOOT'S" but it's the drunken spectacle I really enjoy watching.

Sometimes, though living in a high rise has its downside.  For instance, the other day, I was sleeping on my couch, which I often do, and my phone rang.  I was startled out of a deep slumber by its constant ringing.  I looked at my iPhone, the time was just after 4:30 am.  Now, you have to understand, since I left TV and radio, no one calls me that early unless it's something very important.  I didn't recognize the number, so my mind had a million awful thoughts running through it.  Was it the hospital?  Was a family member in trouble?  A friend who needed help?  I had been asleep for just over two hours and suddenly I was faced with something potentially horrible. 

Fortunately, it was none of those things, but it was still pretty horrible.  Dave, the front desk guy was calling to ask me to check my bathroom.  Still a little drunk from sleep, I wasn't sure I understood the question. 

"I need you to check your bathroom to make sure it's not leaking somewhere," Dave said.  Still a little confused, I managed to pull myself off the couch and make my way to my bathroom where I promptly stepped into what felt like a kiddie pool.  I have a ledge between my bedroom and my bathroom, about a two inch ledge.  So any water that manages to leak out onto my floor, it collects.  Well, let me tell you, it had collected...in a big way.

It seems I had a leak coming from my toilet tank.  I didn't know.  But somehow it had started to leak during the night and flood my bathroom floor.  This would be okay if I lived in a house.  In a high-rise, though, it's a minor catastrophe.  My water was leaking through to the floor beneath me and they had called to complain.

In my time living here, the pipes have proven to be the biggest issue, with clogs happening all the time.  As I type this, my garbage disposal is basically useless as my sink is backed up.  But that's okay, you learn to cope with a few setbacks when you live in a high-rise. 

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, "What does this have to do with 'bachelor alone-ness?'"  I'll tell you.  One of the hallmarks of being a bachelor is being alone.  Learning to be alone, learning to enjoy being alone, dealing with problems...alone.  I'm not talking about life-changing, world-shattering kind of things, but, my toilet is backed up and my garbage disposal won't work and my microwave is on the blink and for some reason the elevator isn't working again kind of problems. 

Being a bachelor means never having to say, "I can do it."  Seriously.  I hear all the time from my "partnered friends" who are always complaining that their girlfriend or wife is making them put up new shelves in the closets, or fix the plumbing or build a porch.  Men with girlfriends or wives do things they normally would never do because their significant others ask them to do those things. 

As a bachelor, I have no one to ask me to do things I don't want to do, like fix my garbage disposal, or mow the lawn (hell, I don't even have a lawn), or build anything...at all.  I'm not trying to impress anyone or show off my alpha male-ness to anyone.  I can simply call someone up and say, "Hey, I have a problem, come fix it" and someone shows up a few minutes later wit a toolkit and in an hour or so, it's fixed.  Yay for me.

As a bachelor, I often walk around in only my boxers and a t-shirt (although lately I've been wearing my "I"m Working" sweats I got from a friend last Xmas) and I can leave my dirty dishes on my coffee table and I can go months without dusting or mopping.  I was making dinner the other night and I had made chili and burgers.  I whipped it up in about 20 minutes and then I grabbed "the Plate" and served up a meal.  "The Plate" is a particularly bachelor-like phenomenon I believe.  I have a single plate that I eat just about every meal on.  I don't wash it, I don't wipe it off, I eat a meal off it, I put it on the counter and then I serve up my next meal on it.

I do this because, first, I hate doing dishes.  And second, I hate doing dishes.  So I use the same plate over and over.  My only other option is to buy paper plates, which I've done in the past, I'm not above that.  So here I am, with my "plate" and I consider pulling out a bowl for my chili.  But then I think, why?  So I pull the pan off the stove, let it cool for a second and eat my chili out of the pan. 


See, this is what bachelors do.  And we do it because we're alone.  We don't have anyone looking over our shoulders telling us NOT to eat off the same plate every single day, or NOT to eat our chili straight out of the pan.  This is why bachelors ENJOY being alone and being bachelors. 


Listen, I love my friends, I love being around them, I miss them when I'm not around them for any length of time.  Just tonight I went out to have a beer for an hour and half with probably my best friend, just because I enjoy being with her.  She makes me laugh and I feel at ease with her.  But then she goes home and I go home and we can both be bachelors in our own little worlds. 


Does it get lonely?  I think most bachelors would say yes, sometimes.  But for the most part, we revel in the alone-ness.  And here's why: the alone-ness also equals freedom.  We don't have anyone to answer to, we don't have anyone looking over our shoulders, we don't have the kind of responsibilities that couples have.  This is the essence of being a bachelor. 


I've heard from several people that the bachelor lifestyle is a kind of Peter-Pan lifestyle.  In other words it's where the person never really grows up.  This confuses me.  I suppose we all have different definitions of what being a "grown up" means.  Yes, I'll admit I act well below my age at times.  And if being a grown up means having a wife and children, a mortgage and a job you hate, well, then, you can keep it.  I know a number of bachelors who are very responsible.  In fact the bachelorette I met tonight, my friend, is one of the most responsible people I know.  She's pretty grown up, even if I'm not sometimes. 


I suppose, in the end, being successful at being alone is a uniquely bachelor trait.  It's part of who we are as bachelors.  We don't want to sit alone at home on a Friday night, we'll normally go out and FIND something to do, people to be with.  But when the bars close, when the lights go up and the drinks are done and the conversation is over, we're perfectly okay making the walk, or drive home alone.  It doesn't fill us with sadness or regret.  On the contrary, we don't mind going home alone, in some cases, we enjoy going home alone.  The alternative is having to answer to someone, or facing the awkward morning after where you're trying to remember the other person's name and help them find their keys and cellphone. 


Of course, sometime we're also the ones throwing up in the gutter or getting involved in some kind of drunk fight.  Either way, it's still better than having a lover's spat on a streetcorner at 2:30 am, to the amusement of every balcony dweller in a three block radius. 


And when faced with those options, bachelor-alone-ness wins again.

The Girl Next Door

Hey folks, I'm back.  It's been a little while, I admit.  I've been busy trying to drum up business and travelling around a bit.  Lest you all think it's all been fun and games, I was doing some work along the way, so it's at least been productive.

I was in Los Angeles last week.  I'm sure you all know of La La Land.  If you've ever been there, you also know it's an...ummm...interesting place.  To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of the place.  It's not the size that daunts me.  I like cities.  I like big cities.  I've done a stint in small towns before, and I've lived in the 'burbs.  Neither one are for me.  I like people.  I like to meet new and interesting people.  Plus, I like to talk, so, you know, people are kind of a pre-requisite for that.

Yeah, but can they solve a quadratic equation?

No, I'm not a big fan of L.A. because so much of it seems fake.  Sure, it's cool to see the movie industry everywhere you look.  And the history is pretty cool, what there is of it.  But under the glitz and glamour and the haze, it all seems a bit hollow.  I DO like Santa Monica, but everything else is so criss-crossed with "freeways" and sprawl and palm trees, well, it's just not my style, I guess.

Hootchie Mama:

Now, you might be asking, "What does this have to do with being a bachelor?"  I'll tell you.  Because L.A. is the movie capital of the world, you can imagine that the place is just crawling with beautiful women.  No, that's not really the right word.  As my friend Galloway said, they're not just beautiful, they're amazing, stunning...breathtaking. 

While I was in L.A. I spent a lot of time on Hollwyood Blvd., home of Grumman's Chinese Theater, The Walk of Fame, The Kodak Theater, the L.A. Subway and multitudes of crazy, insane people.  Oh, and it's pretty well stocked with beautiful women.  For me one of the best parts is that women in L.A. appreciate the short skirt and high heel look as well, which is always a winner in my book.

Now, I'm not intimidated by beautiful women, or smart women or confident women.  I find smart and confident attractive, as well as funny...funny is important.  But walking down Hollywood Boulevard, I found myself coming to one very interesting conclusion; As beautiful as these women were and are, I had a hard time finding them attractive.  Confusing?  Let me explain.

Most of the women I saw as I wandered down Hollywood Blvd. were thin, dressed in skirts that hit way up on the upper thight and heels that looked like miniature versions of the boots that KISS used to wear.  The hair was stylish, the clothes were form-fitting and the makeup was laid on thick.  I never spoke to them so my only impression came from their looks.

Listen, there was nothing wrong with the way they looked except for the fact that they looked so...well...L.A.  In other words, they looked fake.  Am I being harsh?  Am I being too judgemental?  Perhaps.  Maybe it's my age.  Maybe I'm becoming like that old man that sits on his front porch, yelling at "those blasted kids" to get off his lawn and reminiscing about the "good ole' days."  Problem is, I hate yardwork and I don't believe in the "good ole' days."

All of the women I saw, and maybe this was just where I was located, seemed way more interested in stuffing themselves into crowded nightclubs, working as waitresses or hoping to be seen by the right people.  As a bachelor in L.A., the competition isn't other men, it's Hollywood itself.

Confidence!

When I was in Boulder, I was a young, good looking, relatively thin man.  I was athletic, participating in sports, even fencing for a number of years.  I dated, I met women, I grew in confidence.  By the time I left Boulder, I have to admit that I was a bit of a cad.  I was confident to the point of arrogance.  I just felt that, hey, I have been in the dating waters in Boulder, where some extraordinarily beautiful women live and I did okay for myself.  I figured if I could be successful in Boulder, then I could have success with women wherever I went.

After I moved to Denver for work, I realized a few things. 

1.  Women in college are simply looking for a good time, which was compatible to me.
2.  College women are basically focused on two things, school and men, not necessarily in that order.
3.  Professional women have different desires and focuses.

In Denver, I wasn't just competing against other men, I was competing against career aspirations, marriage aspirations, family obligations.  I had to change my approach, my own focus and my own ideas on what being a post-school bachelor was like.

I talked to a number of guys while in L.A.  We talked about the town, the work and the women.  These are good looking guys with good jobs and charm.  In Denver, they had no problem finding women to be with.  In L.A., however, being a bachelor means having to take on a whole new skill set.

That's because most of the women they have met are way more interested in being seen by the right people and parlaying that into a modeling or movie gig.  One man I spoke to told me that if you aren't involved with the movies somehow, your chances of hooking up with one of these "stunning" women diminishes greatly.

Now, I have to imagine that maybe it's only that way in Hollywood and the immediate surrounding areas.  It can't possibly be that way all over Los Angeles, could it?  As much as I enjoyed all the eye candy wandering Hollywood Blvd., I will still take the girl next door any day of the week. 

Preferences:

Maybe it's just my personal preference, but the entire town looked so very blond.  Bleach blond, natural blond, dirty blond.  At least there were a number of redheads mixed in.  I like redheads, I think red is sexy.  I think redheads are my blondes.  Of course, though, I'll always be a sucker for brunettes and dark hair.  I'll take a brunette from Chicago over a blonde from L.A. any day.

I think I could be okay if I had to live in L.A.  I wouldn't be overly happy about it.  But I'd probably find a way to live in or near Santa Monica and try to find the women who weren't just looking for a casting couch.  And I think it could be done. 

Being a bachelor in L.A. is all about segmenting, I think.  Yeah, you can make the trip down to Hollywood or Sunset Blvd., but that's probably more for the occassional wild night out on the town.  I think bachelors that have success (those not involved in movies, anyway) find neighborhoods where they are comfortable, where they fit in and where the women aren't as movie-obsessed as the rest of the city.

I will say this, though.  I feel bad for women living in, or growing up in, L.A.  It has to be hard.  Everywhere you look are billboards, thousands of them, featuring hot women in bikinis or in movie promotions or telling you that liposuction is the way to achieve your dreams.  Plus, the competition for women out there is brutal.  You can be the most beautiful girl in your town, but in L.A., you're just another face. 

One night as we drank two-dollar bottles of win on a rooftop in downtown L.A., we met two women who had clearly been partying for hours (on a Wednesday night, btw).  These two women had just met two men, brothers, at a local club.  The men seemed subdued, one of them even left the party early.  We all chatted and had a good time.  Neither woman was involved with movies, but of course, had a secret desire to GET involved in movies.

The women were attractive, bubbly, outgoing, if also a little tipsy.  They just seemed like they wanted to have fun, which is a common theme out there.  If you had asked me when we first met them how old I thought they were, I would have said mid-20's.  Sure, the lighting was low, the wine was flowing and I wasn't paying too much attention.  But I could have sworn they were in their mid-20's.  So imagine my surprise when told that each of them had children in their mid-teens.  They were closer to 40 than they were 21.  I don't get shocked very often, but THAT shocked me.  I was literally speechless.  Once again...brutal competition for the women out there.

In the end, I'll take the girl next door who might not be as pretty as all the women in L.A.  But I prefer substance over plastic surgery and movie aspirations.  Although it WOULD be cool if the girl next door wore short skirts and heels.  I could live with that.

Stupid Men Tricks

Okay folks, riddle me this:  What is the world record for quarters stuck in a person's nose?  If you guessed 18, you are correct.  You win nothing except the pity of your friends for actually knowing that.  How about the record number of backflips on a pogo stick?  The number of cobras kissed on the head without being bitten?  The record for number of live cockroaches inside a human mouth at one time?  Or how about the record for being hit by a paintball?

Answers: 9, 16, 12 and 114, in order.

Besides all being world records, what else do you think all of these things have in common?  If you guessed unbelieveable stupidity, you would be correct.  If you also guessed they are all records held by men, you win again!  Give that person a kewpie doll!

In case you haven't guessed by now, it's a fairly quiet Thursday night and I'm watching "World's Dumbest" on TV.  I have to admit, it's a guilty pleasure of mine.  So much so, that I TIVO it, along with "The Soup" and "Aqua Teen Hunger Force."  What can I say, I like mindless TV sometimes.  Now, I've seen this show a bunch of times, It makes me laugh.  But for some reason I was watching tonight and I was hit by a sudden epiphany. 

 13 live cockroaches in my mouth? Yeah, it's cool.  Can you believe I'm still single?

Men are idiots.

Women don't stick quarters up their noses.  Women don't try to jump over rivers in a jet-powered Lincoln Continental.  Women don't put cockroaches in their mouths.  And for this I am very, very happy.  Listen, men are stupid enough for both genders, we don't need women trying to outdo us in the dumb department.  Besides you have the bitchy thing.  We let you have that, let us be stupid.

Those who know me know that I have long stated that men are idiots.  It's what we do, it's our superpower.  I have no problem admitting it.  But I DO have a problem explaining why, we're such idiots.  I've been asked more than once why men are sto stupid.  Generally, I just laugh and mutter something under my breath and then say something about the moon and tidal forces and the ill effects of disco liesure suits.

Honestly, I have no answer to that question.  It's like asking why dogs bark at squirrels or why cats are evil.  Some things just are and you have to deal with it.  As a man and a bachelor, I've had to come to grips with this sad bit of natural truth.  For instance, I KNOW that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, or how careful I am, I'm going to do something really, really stupid.  The stupidity is often increased by a factor of ten when I'm in a relationship. 

Fortunately, I'm comforted by knowing all of my bachelor brothers are probably being just as stupid as I am.  And honestly, ladies, we don't know why we do the things we do.  Why do we forget your birthday, or the restaurant of our first date or that we shouldn't have stayed out until 4am with our secretary?  We don't think about it, we just stumble blissfully ignorant through our lives just waiting for the next stupid thing we're going to do.  Sometimes we even wonder why we're doing the stupid thing WHILE WE'RE DOING IT.  But that doesn't stop us.  Hell no! 

If it makes you feel any better, it's not something we do just to piss you off.  In fact, it's not something we learned how to do when we suddenly hit puberty and decided that risking life and limb was not only a good idea, but an imperative to entering manhood.

I'll use myself as an example.  In my lifetime I have done the following stupid things:

1.  Fell down the stairs, broke my arm, and told doctors my aunt pushed me
2.  Stood on a hill while my family was target shooting
3.  Fell down said hill and cut my wrist from pinkie to arm.  I still have the scar
4.  Jumped off a jungle gym and broke my arm
5.  Actually inhaled the spring from a pen.  Doctors had to take it out of my lung
6.  Swallowed ball bearing on a dare
7.  Have eaten various strange plants and bugs, on a dare
8.  Skateboarded behind a car and received a concussion
9.  Climbed the bookcases in elementary school and threw paper airplanes at the teacher
10. Shoplifted
11. Nearly burned my house down while playing with fire (broke the TV)
12. Cheated (especially at board games...if you're not cheating, you're not trying)
13. Cheated on a college girlfriend
14. Became the reason KOA has a no drinking policy at work
15. Broken a xerox machine by xeroxing my ass (but NOT the one I got blamed for)
16. Jumped from the roof of a house onto my flagpole
17. Jumped from the roof of a house into a tree
18. Driven 110 miles an hour, lost my license
19. Randomly taken road trips to California, Texas and Montana for no good reason and without 
      telling anybody
20. Challenged a man twice my size to a fistfight, which I promptly lost

I'm stopping at 20, because, well, because it's getting a little embarrassing.  Don't think this is a comprehensive list.  Just think of this as a highlight reel of just SOME of "Chris's dumbest moments." 

Each time I'd do something stupid, someone, usually a family member would ask me, "What the hell were you thinking?!?"  My response was, "ummmm...errrr...uhhhh...I dunno, just 'cause." 

To be honest, I HAVE given some thought to why men have mastered the art of stupidity.  Sometimes we do stupid things to impress women.  Of course, we don't know at the time that being stupid is actually one of the dumbest ways to impress a woman.  Sometimes we do things on a dare, because our friends are cheering us on and we just CAN'T back down if people are cheering us, right?

I mean, even while my family was berating me, right behind them, my friends were usually snickering and high-fiving and giving me a big thumbs up as if to say, "right on, man!"


It's In The Genes:

Of course, I'm not a doctor, so I have absolutely no scientific proof, but I think the answer lies somewhere in genetics.  How else can you explain our fascination with monkeys, or things that blow up, or games that involve brutal bodily injury and/or scratching and spitting? 

Why else would a man fart loudly while having Christmas dinner at his girlfriend's parents house and then nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh too loudly.  We know that women mature faster than men, but as I go through life, I have made several observations that prove, to me at least, that while women might mature faster, men simply have a hard time maturing at all.

Yes, we might dress up in a tuxedo for a gala event, but that won't stop us from puking in the planter outside the restaurant later that night.  We might say and do all the right things for a little while, but eventually, like the sun rising in the East and setting in the West, we're going to falter.

It just HAS to be genetic, or biological.  It's something inherent in us men to be stupid, generally at the worst possible time.  It's easy to understand why a 14 year old boy might crush up a packet of smarties and then snort them while the rest of the boys giddily stand around cheering him on.  My friend Travis did that.  He was never really the same after that.

But it's another thing for a grown man to look at a bottle of Tabasco sauce and wonder how fast he can drink it.  But we do.  For some reason, while women evolved into graceful, beautiful rational life forms, men remained somewhat nearer to our glorious ape ancestry.  We're often violent, irrational, smelly, burpy, surly creatures that often act without thinking. 

And I know women do stupid things to.  like Guenevere sleeping with Lancelot, or Juliet killing herself (I mean, really, was he worth it?), or Sarah Palin just being Sarah Palin.  But really, the ratio is so enormously on the side of men it's almost astronomical.  There's, like, one stupid woman act for every one million stupid man act.  It's almost inconsequential. 

In summary, I still don't know why men are such idiots.  Like I said, it has something to do with genes, or apes or moon tidal forces.  I just don't know.  But I do know this.  I'm okay with it. 

It's kind of like a female friend of mine.  She's crazy.  She's high maintenance.  I seriously want to give her boyfriend a medal.  But I love her to death.  Yes, she's crazy, and she drives me crazy and she sometimes drives the rest of our cast crazy.  But you know what?  It's okay. 

It's okay because, 1) She's not, like, homicidal crazy.  2) She embraces her crazy.

People who understand who they are and know their flaws are the best kind of people.  You can forgive them their faults when they embrace them because, well, they're just being who they are.  You have to respect that.  I wish more men would embrace their stupidity.  Too often we try to explain it away or make excuses or try to hide it.  I ask why?  Why not just embrace the fact that at some point, if you're a bachelor, heck, if you're a man, you're going to do something incredibly stupid sometime.  And then follow that thought up with the knowledge that after that, you'll do something stupid again.

It's Not The Same:

Just a quick note as I wrap this up.  I'm not talking about the kind of stupidity that comes with drinking too much.  That's a whole speical kind of dumb.  Plus, while stupidity while being male is forgiveable, stupidity while drunk normally isn't.  Just because you drank half a bottle of tequila doesn't give you permission to be more stupid than usual.  It happens, but apologizing for doing something dumb while you were three sheets to the wind isn't the same as apologizing for being a sober male and still thinking that your head will fit throught those stairway slats.

So ladies, relax.  I know I've said this before, but I felt it needed to be said again.  No matter who you're dating, or how good of a guy he might be, just know that at some point he's going to come home with a used dirt bike and want to go out "jumping things" with his buddies.

There's a reason why there are no women in the Jackass crew.  Women are too smart for that.  All you can do is sigh and try to love your man no matter how dumb he might get sometime.  I have a good friend who is married to a smart, professional man.  They have two children.  He's a computer whiz or something like that.  Well read and cultured, spent time in Africa with the Peace Corps.  A few years ago, he called me up and wanted to me to come over to help them film them jump there car over life-sized dummy in their alley.  That was to be followed by an egg-eating contest, followed by a farting contest. 

These are grown, adult, smart family men.  At one point, I looked at my friend and smiled and just said, "hey, it's boys being boys."  To which she responded, "I know, that's why I'm not upset.  I have to allow for his dumb-ass moments from time to time."

And THAT'S the correct response.  Hey, we let you blow things all out of proportion sometimes.  We go to your mom's house with minimal complaining, we change the light bulbs and kill spiders (except for me, I don't do spiders) without getting upset.  So give us our stupidity, please.  We'll embrace it and you can tell all your friends that you're the smart one in the relationship.  Trust me, they'll believe it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the hospital to have a quarter removed from my nose.

The Art of the Pick-Up

Okay all you Bachelorettes, it's time to step up to the plate.  This one is directed at all of you ladies out there who have had to resist the utter craziness of some drunk frat boy hitting on you in a crowded bar.  Or the insanity of a self-proclaimed charmer trying to "get your digits" while all you want to do is catch up on your book of the week reading.

The art of the "pick-up" isn't dead, it's just hiding in a cave somewhere in the hills of L.A. until another sexual revolution rears its promiscuous head.  In today's world where sometimes the woman wears the pants in the relationship, it's rare to find a guy who really, REALLY understands how to "pick-up" a woman.

"Hi, I'm Robert, I do drugs, will you sleep with me?"

And I'm not talking about the end-of-the-night, desperation hook up where both parties are more than a little tipsy and just looking for someone to spend the night with because of their crippling fear of going home alone for a fifth straight Friday night.  That's not a pick-up, that's a train wreck.

No, I'm talking about the real art of seeing someone you are intitially attracted to, someone who is a complete stranger, and going up, talking to them and establishing a rapport that, at the very least leads to a friendship, if not a little bit of the slap and tickle.

Oh Molly, Where Are You?

Think back, my friends to a little gem of a movie called, oddly enough, "The Pick Up Artist".  First, you have to understand that I'm a huge Robert Downey Jr. fan.  If he's in a movie, I'll probably go see it.  If the movie sucks, I'll probably blame the actress opposite him, the writer or the director.  I'll even focus my wrath on the best boy and the gaffer if I have to; anything to avoid blemishing my unadulterated admiration for Mr. Downey Jr. 

I enjoyed that movie, and not just because it felt like I was growing up right along with Robert and teen squeeze Molly Ringwald.  It was a tentative exploration of life after high school and some of the issues we have to deal with when it comes to relationship and blah blah blah. 

Actually, I liked it because if I remember correctly, Molly got kind of naked and I learned how to try and pick up a chick.  Seriously, at the time, I approached it like an educational documentary.  Taking notes, studying film, practicing the right inflections and timing of the perfect pick up line.

Sad to say, I never really perfected the art of the pick up.  Frankly, I'm not sure most men do.  Like anything else, it requires years of practice and dedication to the art.  You have to fail before you walk and then walk before you can run, and honestly, most men just don't have that kind of self discipline.  But some guys ARE good at it.  Not coincidentally, these guys also look like Brad Pitt and George Clooney.  I realized my superpower rested in the slower approach.  Get to know the girl over several years time and then, after they've exhausted all other alternatives, be the last one standing so she HAS to date you.  Hey, it works for me.

But I decided to ask some bachelors over the weekend if they've ever used a pick-up line and whether it was successfull.  Obviously, every bachelor I asked has at least tried a pick up line at one point or another.  I'm going to highlight three of the answers I got over the weekend, not using their real names of course, to protect the innocent. 

But before I get there, I have to qualify something.  There are really two kinds of pick up lines.


1.  The ridiculous, "lets have sex" line
2.  The sincere, "I want to strike up a conversation" line

There is a huge difference.  You know the first kind of line.  It's the awful lines that, really, I think have only been used in B-movies.  Lines like:

(him)"Did it hurt?" 
(her) "Did what hurt?" 
(him) "When you fell from heaven."

Or the always popular, "The sky must be missing a couple of stars, cause I think they're in your eyes."
Or, "Why do birds suddenly appear...?"

In fact, I think most awful pick up lines are actually used as choruses for cheesy love songs.  Then of course there are the actual pick-up lines you might really hear at a bar or a coffee shop, or in line at the local Whole Foods (hey, I live in Colorado, by law we're only allowed to buy food at health food stores, King Soopers, and safeway are for banking, buying light bulbs and filling your prescriptions).

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly:

Anway, I digress, again.  These lines are basically conversation starters.  In fact AskMen.com listed the top 10 pick up lines based on their chances of success.  And because I'm a good guy, I'm going to show them to you.  So...here they are from ten to one:


10: "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
9: "Would you like to dance?"
8: "Can I interest you in a glass of..?"
7: "Do you come here often?  I could use your opinion on something..."
6: "Excuse me, can you help me with...?"
5: "Dont' you find this place...?" (cool, classy, chic, off the hook, something positive)
4: "You look like you might be interested in some great conversation."
3: "Would you like an escort to your..." (table, elevator, the bar...NOT her apartment)
2: "Wow! I really like that (insert item of clothing or fragrance) you're wearing."
1: "I just thought you should know that you have a really nice..." (whatever you say, don't say ass or set of knockers)

That's a fine list.  Although I think number 4 would be hilarious to actually hear a guy try on a woman. Some are obvious like asking them to dance, or asking them if they want a drink or simply asking if a seat is taken.  Most of them involve flattery of some kind as well, which, I've found can make a woman uncomfortable if you lay it on too thick.  This is where the art comes in, knowing how to read her reactions and adjust accordingly.

I'll get back to this list but first I want to relay the answers from our panel of bachelors.  All three of these guys are younger than I am, although one isn't much younger, while another is significantly younger.  The third is kind of in-between.  Here are some real life pick up lines used by real life bachelors and how they worked.

Subject 1 - "John"
Age 22: Occupation, student.
"John" fancies himself as a bit of a ladies man.  When I met him, he was with a woman he had met just a few days earlier, an attractive 21 year old redhead with freckles and great legs.  When I asked him if he'd ever used a pick up line, he just laughed and pointed to his date saying, "I used one on her."  I asked him what he said, and he replied with this little classic: "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" (oddly enough, this one is listed as one of the worst pick up lines ever at the pickup artists website.)

I have to admit, I chuckled a bit, even as I was gagging on my beer.  I didn't have to ask if he was successful since he was with her at the bar.  He Did say that she initially rolled her eyes and started to walk away.  But he said he noticed she had giggled and was smiling so he took that as a sign to pursue her.  I chalked it up to the fact that she was so young that maybe she hadn't heard many pick up lines.  Or maybe she was just physically attracted to the guy.  Either way, I asked him if he generally used such crappy pick up lines.

He replied, "Yeah, I use really bad lines, just to break the ice.  I'm a goofy guy so I use my sense of humor to get them to laugh, and it works."  Clearly.  "Most of the time they can tell I'm just messing around and having fun.  Sometimes, though it doesn't work and I figure I don't want to be with her anyway if she doesn't have a sense of humor."

Of course I'm paraphrasing, but that was, essentially what he said.  Trust me.  I understood what he said, and his technique, while not textbook, seemed to work for him.  We then armwrestled and I lost, which is probably why he can get away with using cheesy pick up lines and be successfull.


Subject 2 - "Sam"
Age 30:  Occupation, Video Editor.
At 30 years old, "Sam" says he's moved past the point of using pick up lines for the most part.  He's looking for a more long term relationship after just getting out of a two year relationship.  He said he used to use pick up lines all the time, mostly without success.  Although he considers himself pretty successfull using pick up lines, he doesn't consider them pick ups.  He looks at them more like conversation starters, which, the best pick up lines are. 

He said he had tried a pick up line a few days earlier at a restaurant.  He was eating at the breakfast bar and an attractive woman sat nearby.  He was reading the paper, she was reading the paper and at one point, he leaned over and asked for the salt and pepper (after hiding the shakers directly in front of him).  "I did that just to guage if she had any interest in me," he said.  "Sam" says she made eye contact with him and held it for just a lingering second, which he says gave him the courage to use a more direct line.

"I leaned over and made a comment about the newspaper headline, it was about the education bill or something.  I mentioned that I thought teachers were underpaid and tried to make a joke that they should get combat pay or something stupid like that.  She just looked at me and kind of smiled but didn't say anything.  So I said something about wanting to be a teacher once but I ended up behind a camera, women usually perk up when I say I shoot video, but she literally turned her back to me, swivelled around on the stool and I took the hint."

"Sam says he finds that the best pick up lines are small talk starters and that it's not just the lines, it's the approach and the location.  "You have to be somewhere where the woman is open to talking to strangers and making small talk.  Then you can find something in common and go from there. 

Smart guy, this "Sam."


Subject 3 - "Harry"
Age: 38: Occupation, IT specialist.
"Harry" and I go way back.  We used to work together some time ago and we still keep in touch.  We had lunch on Sunday and I broached th subject of pick up lines to him.  He immediately grunted and stuffed his face with his Reuben.  "Harry" was married once, divorced a few years ago and is just now getting back into the game.  And while "Harry" makes a good living and women have said he's an attractive guy, he's never had much luck with women.  He's a good guy, but kind of humorless.  I thought, who better to ask about pick up lines than a guy who could seriously use a good one to meet Mrs. Right.

Here is his reply:  "I only have one pick up line if you can call asking a woman to dance a pick up line.  I like to dance, I'm not a bad dancer.  I figure if I can get them dancing, I at least have a shot at a date.  Plus, you don't have to do a lot of talking while you dance.  Plus I smell good (seriously, he said this) and women like how I smell, I just have to get them close to me.  It doesn't always work.  I asked a woman to dance with me last week and she said no, but not like a regular no, it was like a 'HELL NO' which pissed me off and ruined the rest of my night...bitch."

It's A Different Kind Of Art:

So, there you go, a random sampling and insight into the strange and disturbing mind of three bachelors. 

I find as I get older, I know my style and my strengths and weaknesses better and better.  I don't use pick up lines per say, but I DO like to use conversation starters, which I have found to be pretty effective.

And while I could give a list of rules describing what makes a good pick up line and a bad pick up line, what circumstances enhance the success of your pick up line and such; I won't do that.  I won't because, and here's the secret, the lines themselves have very little to do with the success or failure of the pick up.  It has more to do with confidence and personality and general attractiveness than the words you say.

So with that said, I'll leave you with this little bit of advice from the AskMen site.  If you want to be a pick up artist keep the following words in mind the next time you approach a stranger at a party or a bar or a coffee shop prepared to sweep her off her feet with your dazzling display of loquaiciousness.

Just remember: Being cheesy isn’t cute and will get you dismissed faster than she can bat an eyelash. On the other hand, being clever and confident with your delivery can get you to the next level. If flattery remains your point of action, make sure not to lay it on too thick. Compliments should be delicate and poured on lightly to ensure their staying power. The objective is to create a conversation starter that best reveals your interest and your intent.

Maybe we should call it the conversation-starter artist.  I like that. That's an art I think even I could be pretty decent at. 

Ladies, now it's your turn.  Tell me about all of your awful pick up lines that you've heard, or relay the pick up lines that actually got your attention and worked.  I know the guy's point of view on this one, but what about you?  Do YOU use pick up lines?  Dish, baby.  You know what to do. 

Oh, and by the way, I think you have a really nice....uh....nevermind.

Etiquette, People!

First, I must make an apology.  For those of you who followed my old blog, years ago, this might be a bit of a rehash.  For those of you who are brand new, or missed my last blog, stick around, this is gonna get good.

It has been a bit quiet since my little four day adventure a couple of weeks ago.  Not too much going on, just biding my time as we prepare for a number of Hit n Run shows coming up over the next couple of months.  But I did have a wonderful discussion on Saturday as I was catching a ride to a friend's babeque that I thought I'd pass along. 

Just follow the rules and no one will get hurt, okay?

And here's the great thing, it's a topic that I think everyone, male or female can relate to, even though the approaches are COMPLETELY different.  Yes, I'm talking about bathroom etiquette, folks.

Why is this such an important topic to cover, you might ask?  I'll tell you why.  Because there are rules.  And while most rules are meant to be broken, when it comes to bathroom etiquette, the rules are there for a reason and heaven help the individual that decides to go all rogue and break the bathroom rules.

Private vs. Public:

Of course, we have to admit that there are really two types of bathrooms here.  There's the private bathroom, the one in your home or your significant others' home, and then there's the public bathroom.  The important thing to remember is this: while the rules are pretty straightforward across the lines, there are some differences when dealing with these two types of bathrooms.

Let's tackle the public bathroom first.  To be fair, I have to mention that I'm speaking strictly from a male point of view here, and I would desperately love to hear from some women who can give me some insight to the rules in the women's public restrooms.

When it comes to men's public restrooms there's really only one rule you have to be aware of, but it's a really, REALLY important rule:

1.  NO TALKING

There you go.  If you follow this rule whenever you're in a men's public restroom, you'll do just fine.  Now, like all rules, there ARE some exceptions, although I don't like them, they exist and they must be acknowledged.

It's okay to talk if you're at the sink washing your hands.  And it's okay to talk if you're waiting for a stall in a line with other men who are also waiting for a stall.  Plus, it's kind of okay to talk if you're in a public restroom at a sports stadium, however you MUST be talking about the game at hand and nothing else if you insist on talking there.


The Bathroom Call:

I can't tell you exactly how the conversation in the car started, but somehow the other man in the car and I began discussing the useage of cellphones in a mens' public restroom.  This brought up an entirely different set of rules that also must be addressed.

First, it doesn't matter if you're on a cellphone or not, there should be absolutely NO talking while actually using the head in a public bathroom.  It's pretty much strictly verboten!  However, as the fellow I was with correctly pointed out, there are really two types of cellphone discussions that take place in a men's public bathroom.


1.  The unexpected call.
2.  The bragging call.

Men can tell when you receive a phone call that you didn't expect.  It's usually from a family member, a girl or a really drunk friend.  We get it.  You didn't expect the phone call, and we can usually tell that you don't really want to be on the phone at the time.  These kind of discussions are generally okay because the one in the bathroom does a lot of grunts or mono-syllabic responses like, "yeah" or "okay" or "sure".  The other men in the bathroom aren't happy about it, but we understand and besides, it's not like you're having some deep conversation that we have to listen to, so we can go about our business without being too disturbed.

The bragging call, however is a completely different story.  These are the guys who are doing most of the talking in the conversation, talking about the girl they're with, or who they wish they were with or someone they saw who they hope they can be with later.  This kind of call is uber-annoying and completely unacceptable. 

And if your cellphone rings while you're IN the public restroom, don't you DARE answer it.  In fact, as a rule, most cellphone calls should be handled outside the restroom.  If you're on the phone and you have to pee, stand outside as long as you can humanly bear it and then go in only if your bladder is about three seconds from actually exploding.

The thing is, men just don't like to talk in the bathroom.  We're used to the bathroom being our own private time.  So having to share the bathroom with other men is already awkward and uncomfortable.  The last thing we need is to have to carry on a conversation or listen to others have a conversation while we're trying to do our business.

Often times I will be in the middle of a discussion with a friend who also just happens to be going to the bathroom at the same time and I will seriously stop the conversation as we step into the restroom, and then resume it once we've left.  It's just common courtesy.  Now, I have been known to see someone I know in the restroom while I'm in there and at the most we'll acknowledge each other with the basic head nod and say something softly like, "hey" or "what's up?" and leave it at that.


So to recap, here are the basic rules or etiquette for men's public restrooms:


1.  No Talking
2.  If you have to talk, do it only at the sink or while waiting in line for a stall.
3.  No talking to yourself, even.  It's creepy and annoying.
4.  No talking on the cellphone unless absolutely necessary.  Talk outside the bathroom if you can.
5.  Talking at a sports venue is marginally okay, but you have to be talking about the game.
6.  No singing, whistling or looking around while using a public restroom.
7.  Never EVER make a phone call or answer a phone call while using a public restroom.
8.  Never continue a conversation from outside the bathroom, save until you're finished.
9.  You can acknowledge a friend in the restroom, but no touching or conversations.
10. Never, EVER talk between stalls.  That's just wrong!

Just Do It:

I won't get into the psychology of these rules.  They are what they are.  And they are fairly  universal.  I've heard stories, real horror stories, about the women's public restrooms in the places where I hang out.  Stories involving long discussions about boys, or other women or clothes, or hair, whatever, apparently women like to talk in the bathroom. 

As a man and a bachelor I can honestly say, I don't get that.  Going to the bathroom is like going to work.  You don't necessarily want to be there, but you have to go, so make it as short and sweet as possible with the fewest distractions you can muster.  Plus, apparently women like to vomit in the public restroom.  I can honestly say in the two decades I've been going to bars and getting drunk, I have only seen one man actually puke in a public restroom. 

Sure, we might barf on the dance floor, or in the plant in the corner or on the street somewhere, but for some reason we don't generally puke in the public restroom.  We might pass out there, but oddly, throwing up just isn't generally on the menu.  And when we do, we almost always hit the toilet or sink.  I've seen the end results of someone throwing up in the public restroom a couple of times, but it's always in the sink or toilet (okay, once in the urinal, but that was a friend's 21st birthday and...well, it's a long story).

From what I hear, women just throw up willy nilly all over the women's public restroom.  That seems odd to me.  yeah, we might pee on the floor more than is normally accepted, but we almost always hit our target if we're throwing up somewhere. 

The woman driving the car defended womankind saying that women's bathrooms aren't all social clubs where women go to chat with friends out of earshot of those annoying men.  but then she mentioned that she knows women who will actually talk between stalls.  I think I got a little dizzy at that moment just trying to imagine what would happen if two men started talking between stalls in a men's public restroom.  I honestly think someone would explode.

Home is where the head is:

Now, the home bathroom is a different beast, but the rule still applies.  There really isn't a lot of talking, if any at all, in a bachelor's bathroom.  When I was younger and living with a woman, she loved to talk.  We'd take separate showers, but one of us would often be in the bathroom while the other was showering or we'd both be using the sink as we got ready for our day.  She would chat and make jokes and try to get me to talk to her. 

Two points:  First, I'm not a morning person, so I don't usually like to talk first thing in the morning.  Second, it's a bathroom, it's not a lounge, it's not meant for talking, it's meant for doing your business and getting out of there.

it was a real bone of contention in our relationship for a while, until I explained to her what the rules were.  After that she didn't try to talk to me through the door while I was on the toilet reading a book or the paper, and she didn't try to continue a conversation while she was in there doing what she needed to do.  Again, that's just not right.

When I was dating a gal a while ago, she spent a lot of time at my place.  I have to say that my apartment was never cleaner and my bathroom never sparkled more than when I was dating her.  But I can clearly remember, about two months in, when I walked into my bathroom one morning and there, on my sink was her toothbrush and hair gel, some makeup and some feminine hygiene products.  I admit I freaked a little. 

To a bachelor, the bathroom is like his personal mancave.  It's his private sanctuary from the outside world.  He can go in there to think or read or even take a nap.  Seriously, I have napped in a bathroom many times.  Yes, my butt falls asleep, but it was a small price to pay.  I have even gone into my bathroom to simply think and clear my head when I've been alone in my own apartment.  To a bachelor the bathroom is like Superman's Fortress of Solitude. 

No one can touch you in there, no can bother you or make you do something you don't want to do. It's just you, and the toilet and your thoughts.  So to have a woman suddenly start to take over by placing her personal products on your sink, well, it's like a signal that she's starting to take over.  If you're relationship has evolved that far, then, okay.  But if it happens suddenly, it's a shock and it can prove to be a major bump in an otherwise smooth relationship road.

So women, be careful about what you do when dealing with a bachelor and his bathroom.  It's a sensitive area and one that should not be messed with.  I would go so far as to say that if and when you get into a relationship with a bachelor, check to see if he has two bathrooms, or just be careful about what you leave behind on his sink.

As always, I'm VERY interested in hearing from the women who read this blog.  Because I can't imagine that bachelorettes have decidedly different rules from bachelors when it comes to bathroom sanctity.  What are the rules in your world?  What are the do's and dont's you deal with both public and private?  Either way, it's important to keep in mind that there are rules when it comes to bathroom etiquette and while, as I said, rules are made to be broken...some rules are also simply meant to be obeyed.

Protocols, Rules, Regulations

So, before I get into today's entry.  I just have to say that I pushed a car today.  More accurately, I pushed MY car today.  Sadly, I don't have a nice, little Smart car or aluminum body vehicle.  No, I have a nice, heavy, 4x4 Chevy Blazer.  Here's a little tip for all you kind readers out there.  If you ever have to push a Chevy Blazer up a small incline, push with your legs and lean, I mean REALLY lean into the push.  Oh, and rocking also helps.  Needless to say, I have had my workout for the day.

Why won't you call me?  Hasn't it been three days yet?

Anyway, I'm actually here to talk about rules and protocols and all that fun stuff.  Now, those that know me, also know that I've never been a real stickler about following rules.  I tend to bend rules when I can  and break them outright when I shouldn't.  Rules are made to be broken, right?  Kind of like the rules of grammar, which my cousin so thoroughly enjoys hammering me with when discussing this blog.  Hey, I'm a published writer, a longtime journalist, I break the rules at my discretion, so...there.

Although my disregard for grammatical rules is probably a fascinating conversation I'm sure you'd all just love to listen to, I'm actually here to talk about the rules of dating and relationships.  Of course, I can't fit ALL the rules into one single blog entry, so at least for now, I'm just going to focus on the beginnings of relationships...and maybe the end, but we'll have to see about that.

Damn The Rules!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had a wonderful time with a bevy of beautiful women over the weekend and spilling into Monday night.  I had mentioned that I found myself interested in at least one of them.  I received a note asking me if I had actually asked this particular woman out on a date yet.  I hadn't, I still haven't.

Which leads me to the first rule under the microscope.  It's perhaps one of the most hallowed and revered of all bachelor codes and rules.  You all know it, so say it along with me; I'm talking about the "Three Day Rule."  For those of you who might have been living in a cave for the past 50 years, that's when a bachelor waits three days to call a woman he just met to ask them out on a date. 

Honestly, I've never really adhered very well to this rule.  Often, when I meet someone I like or who grabs my interest, I will ask them out that night.  Plus, I really have a hard time asking a woman out over the phone.  Call it the old fashioned in me, but I just beleive in doing important things like asking a woman out face to face. 

Of course, things change with every passing day, and now, men and women are asking each other out on the phone, over texts, on Tweets on Facebook.  All of which is about as romantic as sending a carrier pigeon to ask a woman out.  Actually, I take that back.  A carrier pigeon is more romantic becaue it shows you liked her enough to actually train a pigeon to carry her a message.

I don't know, maybe it's me, but it seems like texting a woman with the following message, "hey baby, wanna go out sometime?" seems a little impersonal, way too casual and, frankly a bit insulting.  Of course I know I'm starting to sound like one of those octogenarians who sit on their porch in a rocking chair and a wooden cane cursing at those damn kids to get off his lawn.

But I prefer to do something like as a woman out in person.  It just feels more, well, personal.  Plus, here's another thing, I know a lot of bachelors that don't ask a girl out immediately upon meeting them.  Like me, they like to spend some time around a person to get to know them and make sure that the woman is someone who they really want to date.

Is There A Female Equivalent?

But I've always wondered how women feel about the three day rule.  I mean, it's not like it's a secret, right?  If you give your phone number to a guy you met in a crowded, darkened bar or nightclub, chances are you've been drinking a little as well, do you expect him to call you in three days?  What happens if he calls you the next day?  Is it really a sign of desperation?  Maybe he is just really interested.  What if, and this is something I do way too often, he waits beyond three days?  Is his window of opportunity closed? 

Do women have a similar three day rule?  I've always wondered about that.  I know that some women wait until at least the third date before they'll sleep with a guy, but what about during those first few days after just met the guy?  How do you feel about a text asking you out?  Do you prefer it to be done in person or is a phone call just as good?  So many questions, so few answers right now. 

I know why the three day rule is in effect.  If a guy calls a girl too soon after meeting them, they DO look desperate.  Two days after meeting a girl, still seems a little too eager.  Wait four days or longer and the girl forgets you and the magic has worn off, at least that's the theory.  Three, like the song says, is the magic number.

Whenever I think about this rule, I can't help but think about that scene from "Swingers" where the poor schlub meets a woman, gets her phone number and calls her immediately upon getting home.  Of course he gets the answering machine and leaves a message, which he can't finish because he's rambling.  So he calls her back, gets the machine, finishes his message.  But then he feels like an idiot, so he calls back, another message.  Then comes the remorse, another phone call, another message to apologize.  Of course, then he really feels stupid, so he calls back one last time, this time she answers in the middle of his message.  "Don't ever call me again" is all she says.

We've all done this at one point in our lives.  It's embarrassing and humiliating to think about, but when we're younger we do stupid things.  Maybe this is why the three day rule is in effect.  It gives the guy time to digest the first impression as well.  If he's still interested after three days, then it's worth calling, right?  Or at the very least, setting up another meeting.

There are a ton of rules that have to be followed in the initial stages of a developing relationship.  Or at least rules we're SUPPOSED to follow.  Simple things like not talking too much about yourself, holding a door open for a woman, waiting three days to call, not jumping in bed hours after meeting someone.  I would like to add another rule.  One that says no asking someone out via text or FB. 

End It Quickly, Like Pulling Off A Band-Aid:

This goes double for breaking up with someone.  I know I've mentioned that in the past I've simply let budding relationships die on the vine by not calling the woman back, even after I promised to do so.  Yes, this is a bit of a cowards way out, I admit it.  But It's just as cowardly to text someone to say, "Hey, baby, it's over....seeing someone new, have a nice life." 

Again, I say to all the bachelors, and bachelorettes out there, when it's over, or if it never was, or if it never will be, man up and say so, in person.  Trust me, I will do as I say in the future as well.  I have to point out, that, as a bachelor, I have always appreciated it when a woman tells me straight up that it's just not going to happen.  Like most bachelors, I appreciate the honesty. 

There was a woman I had a huge crush on a while ago.  I had known her for a probably eight months, maybe a year before asking her out.  I pushed and cajoled and prodded.  She knew I had a crush on her and my personality can be, well, a bit overpowering sometimes.  I got her to say yes to a date.  A single date.  We had both been drinking a little and afterwards, a bunch of us left the bar and went back to my place to wind down the evening. 

At one point while we were getting snacks at the 7-11 in my building, she came up to me and simply called the date off.  I didn't understand, I wasn't happy about it.  But later, she explained that she just never saw it going anywhere in the future and that it was probably a waste of time and that she didn't want to lead me on.  She just wanted to be friends.

I appreciated that, even though it hurt at the time, it was better than being led on.  We never really spoke much after that, and I never really see her anymore, which is fine.  At least the crush was nipped in the bud early.  Women, take a lesson from this situation.  If you're not interested in a guy, don't lead them on, don't give them your phone number, don't go out on a "harmless" date with him.  Say no, leave it at that and move on.  If he wants to be your friend afterwards, then fine.  If not, then at least you saved both of you some pain and drama you would have to inevitably have had to deal with down the road.

Now that's a rule everyone can live with.