Dont Mince Words

I’m sure many have speculated how long I would last without a TV. I’m a communications person with roots in public affairs. Wouldn’t I miss spin? Netflix? Or at the very least, Sponge Bob reruns?

Yes, yes, and yes. My fall off the wagon began with my stereo receiver. It had served me well, but it was time for replacement. My receiver was the gateway component back to the dark side of television. It was HDMI compliant. It was lonely and needed accessories to fill its many input jacks in the back.

I immediately welcomed a 1080p HD TV and a Sony Blu-ray to my receiver. They are getting along nicely. The sound is amazing. The picture is beautiful.

The Netflix arrive Wednesday and cable guy is coming in another week. Soon I’ll be reunited with Keith Olbermann. I’ve read a lot of books and listened to a lot of podcasts. It’s time to get reacquainted with my sofa – just in time for “winter.”

Why is it when I tell people I can be shy, they grab their stomach and double over laughing? Honestly, it took all I could to approach the Barney’s Beanery guy, give him my card, and ask him to call.

The man called. We agreed to go back to the scene of the crime and meet for a beer. I got there early on purpose because, yes, I was nervous and wanted to get a head start on the beer. I realized it had been ages since I’d gone into a date with little-to-no information. At least with set-ups, or online dating, you have some background information to go on.

We met and everything was fine. He’s a writer and filmmaker, so we had no shortage of conversation. We traded bad date stories, bitched about aspects of LA, and shared a lot of laughs. It was an incredibly normal and fun night. Technically, the evening was unblogable because he didn’t do anything ridiculous like some of the colossal tools I’ve been out with. He even asked if he could create his own blog pseudonym. How’s that for creative collaboration?!

I’m on deck for a second date, but even if that never happens and this ended up being a one off, I now know that I can conquer my own shyness and meet men the old-fashioned way, in bars.

When you hit a certain age, you realize there’s no great place to live. You are either in the ‘burbs with the marrieds, or in the cheap area surrounded by young ones and Bud. What’s that leave me? West Hollywood.

I live in the least target-rich environment on earth. But the view is great. At least SOMEONE in LA has a relationship. I love the ‘moes. They do have the best neighborhoods. I’m several doors down from barely-yogurt Pinkberry as well as a one-stop leather shop. And, if I hit bottom, the 12-Step store is right next door.

However, when you live and work amongst the gays, you forget what straight men are. Tonight my libido was resuscitated in Barney’s Beanery, five blocks from my house. There were sports games on and men were watching. As I ate dinner with a girlfriend, I felt like horny teen girl again.

“Look at that one over there with the broad shoulders. He’s not gay either.”

On my way out, I was so dazed by the spectacle, I walked over to an age-appropriate guy, handed him my card and said, “Hi, if you are single and straight, give me a call and let’s get a beer sometime. I live in a gay neighborhood and I don’t see real men often.”

He smiled, introduced himself and said sure. He made my day. Maybe I made his.

After dinner, we walked another 1/2 mile to a work/movie party. There seemed to be an overabundance of straight men there, but they all had that homogeneous LA guy look: emo bedhead, 15 pounds underweight, trying too hard to look hip.

So who hits on me? A skinny, gay black guy with a Yankees cap on.

“Gurl, look at you. You got it going on with that hair. Who does your hair?” he asked.

What response could I give that would repulse him and make him go away, like tossing water on the Wicked Witch?

“Fantastic Sams,” I said.

I want to believe that gay guys have straight brothers or friends that I can go out with. But I think I’m going to stick with what I know: bars with pool tables and sports games are usually full of straight guys. Back to the Beanery I go.