Come on with Raz now

I am going to lose my effing mind. I keep playing “Best Vacation Ever” with Tim, Eric, and Raz. Come on with Raz now, hop on my jet ski. Grab onto my waist, take a ride with me, please. Virgin Colada. No rum. Virgin Colada. No rum.

This is getting better and better as it comes together. What does it involve, you ask? Another foodgasm meal at Delmonico’s. Finally getting to karaoke such hits as “Say Say Say,” “Easy Lover,” and “I’ll Be Over You” with my friend, Kevin. (If I get buzzed, I may sing “I Want You Back” by NSync and publicly dedicate it to Simon Cowell. I may also sing Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” and dedicate it to Simon Cowell.) Me not having to plan every freakin’ detail out in OCD regiment and being able to enjoy more spontaneity.* SNL. Celebrities. Nerd stuff. Dressing up as Blind Blake Carrington & Alexis Carrington. The writing of comedy. Not being at work. Posing in Kevin’s Wolfpunch shirt to the caption, “I Love Werewolves.” 80s music and references. Flying, which is something I enjoy in and of itself. Travel, which is something I enjoy in and of itself. Being in the city of Papa Trump, who I love in and of himself.

I had lunch with my friend, Miles, on Monday and we were discussing Trump and politics. We are of like mind about the idea of politics being results-oriented. I don’t give a shit about party lines. I don’t give a shit about straight ticket, partisan bullcrap. I care about results. What’s your track record? What kind of results do you get? What do you stand for? That’s far more important to me than putting some meaningless label on things. Sadly, I don’t see either candidate providing much that’s worth a damn. I wish Trump would run, I really do. He’s not going to, but I wish he would.

*One of the things I am finding in life is how nice it is to let other people help. Truly. I recently read About a Boy after seeing the movie several times and liking Hugh Grant’s performance. Whenever he and Marcus sing “Killing Me Softly” on stage at school, I always crack up. In the book as in the movie, there’s a focus on the awkwardness in both lives. Marcus does a lot to please his mother at the cost of his own preferences, identity, and maturity level. Will does a lot to please himself and to avoid attachments at the cost of not bonding with others and not having a real life. Will always wants the escape hatch. He wants to be able to have uncomplicated relationships that never get messy and never get entangled. Over the course of the novel, Marcus learns how to assert his own opinions instead of placating his mother and Will learns that life is better when you bond with other people. In some ways, I’ve been like both Will and Marcus over the past few years. Reading the novel was cathartic. I think we all have certain pressures asserted on us by others, whether it’s family, friends, colleagues, bosses, etc. Sometimes that can be an excuse to avoid closeness with others. Marcus does what his mom asks out of fear and a sense of not wanting to upset the apple cart because of her suicidal depression. Will avoids relationships in order to keep his life consistent, predictable, and drama-free. Oh yes. I am guilty of that. Some of the routines we get into in life arise out of convenience and ease. My friend Terry told me he stayed with his ex way past the point of any happiness because it was convenient and easier not to leave. I can’t sit in any judgment of that. At all. I stayed in a friendship for much the same reasons. Focusing on her problems gave me a reason not to focus on my own. (Which is why I now have a backlog of mental bullshit I am slogging through. I told Roger Sterling that it’s been a true treasure trove of mental goodies that I have located.) We hadn’t been truly compatible in a long time but it was easier for me not to rock the boat. (Ironically, it was on a boating trip that I realized we were no longer on even remotely the same page in life. As Piers said, “I’m the guy on the other side of the table and always will be.”) We always spent time on the weekends. We talked every day or virtually every day. It was safe and secure. It kept me from having to conjure up plans with someone else or figure out how I wanted to amuse myself on the weekends. And it kept me from going out to find a proper boyfriend. I think I knew that on some subconscious level but the thought was too scary to let into my normal waking thought process. About this time last year when I decided I was finally ready to look at marriage after a long, long run of being a confirmed bachelorette, I knew I would have to get serious about it. Dating for shits and giggles or dating for pure story value would go into the “Eh, not so much” category. There were guys I went out with once or twice and then walked away from. And I’m not saying it wasn’t a mutual parting. My point is that I am sorely out of practice on how things operate beyond the first few dates. And I am completely without any precedent on dating a Darcy. It’s pretty much always been Daniel Cleaver. My high school sweetheart wasn’t a Cleaver but he was a wet blanket like no other. He was like Darcy minus any sense of charm, ambition, and security. So I’m a little out of my normal comfort zone here. Daniel Cleaver is predictable if you know the type. All flash and brass and sexiness but gone within weeks or months. I remember going out on a date with a guy who tried to pull my hair during our first kiss. Like, “WTF, pal? Isn’t it kind of early in the game to bust out S&M behavior?” Gross. But I digress.

Having Arsey Darcy over to fix some things and do man jobs at the house was wonderful. I’m already plotting how I’m going to get him to fix the crooked bedroom door and the jacked up microwave lights, LOL. When we were out last Saturday, we went to a live music thing and it was great. Early on, my freak magnet kicked in and we were descended on by a couple of unique characters. One woman who wanted to get horny about Tommy Lee of Motley Crue and her son who decided to start taking his clothes off to show us his tattoos. When we were in the beer line, I saw the Fat Man (from my old job!) and his wife. I hid from them. Once we settled in to listen to a band, I snuggled against Darcy and it was great. There was a teenage girl down the bench from us who had the look of the stink eye in our general direction. And I thought, “Bitch please. If you knew how long it’s been since I had a good man in my life who was worth snuggling with you would not be hating. Fuck off.” We got up after the show to go to dinner and held hands in public for the first time. It was great. I enjoy being with him. And I enjoy being able to let someone else help out. Not doing everything myself. It’s nice.