As many of you (OK, who am I kidding there are only 9 loyal readers) might have noticed, I'm fond of making admissions.
Or maybe they don't.
The point is, I'm fond of making admissions because it's the cardinal route to good writing. Or so I'm told by Ernest Hemingway who famously said, "You just open up a vein and write." Then he went on to launch a couple of ounces of lead through the back of his skull, so maybe I have this all wrong.
Well, as the photo of this post might indicate, I've begun to watch a new series on TV.
I'm no stranger to Sex and the City. Like many other estrogen-fueled shows, it played nonstop in my living room for many, many years. Which is why I often retreated to the Man Cave, for football, BBQ competitions or The Nazi Channel.
I was a happily married man with two teenage daughters, what did I need to know about four frolicking females cavorting in NYC in perpetual and often frustrating search of their carnal mojo?
Life has changed of course.
When re-entering the shallow end of the dating pool, it's safe to say I had no idea what I was doing. There was trepidation, naturally, but it wasn't the same kind of nervousness that I battled in my youth. I simply had no idea what to expect.
In fact, my first sojourn went exceedingly well. A 2 & 1/2 hour Sunday Brunch that included lots or laughs, a Bloody Mary (maybe two), bacon, and a casual verbal invitation to "come up to Northern California for a weekend visit."
Damn, I thought, thank you Old Spice.
But as many a veteran of the dating game will tell you, it's a rollercoaster that can sometimes get stuck in the middle of the ride. Or careen off the tracks into crowd of Indiana Bible Thumpers waiting to ride the Dumbo planes.
Thankfully I had a chance encounter with Ms. Muse, who I hadn't seen or heard from in 33 years. Resulting in a magical connection. Recently, we started excerpting a bit of dialogue Carrie shared with her Russian paramour, which led to my first viewing of a SATC episode. And now, despite all odds, I find myself enjoying the show.
Not only is it entertaining, it's quite informative.
Particularly in light of the horror stories I hear from Ms. Muse as well as her "dating" friends, who have the funniest stories of the men they have encountered on the "apps." Profiles that include bare-chested selfies. Photos of fishing conquests. Disguised Trumpsters. And my favorite, first date poetry readers.
I don't want to get too binary here, but's it's safe to say that when it comes to women, we men are clueless.
It's also safe to say, and this is something I'm still learning, that it's easier to get what we want from women when we have a better idea of what they want.
Cue the peppy SATC Music.
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Update: Oh and there's this little tidbit that warms my hometown heart
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