Pub Talk and Blasphemy

This is a non-alcoholic post, sorry to disappoint. What I’d like to say is: !@#$%^&*+!!!!! I’m going to be published for the second time in 15 years! Slow and steady for this gal. Back then, I took on the lighthearted subject of Jewish students’ experiences with Anti-Semitism on the UC Berkeley campus. The magazine best known for its articles, or lack thereof, got wind of my research and called me for an interview. Thus, I was interviewed by a Penthouse magazine “reporter.” I was featured, no clothes (or picture, sorry to disappoint again) in the big 25th anniversary issue. For those of you who use, I mean read, Penthouse, for articles (that aren’t worn), I was published in the same edition as those repulsively memorable pictures of Tonya Harding and Jeff Guilula  their honeymoon.

Suddenly, hundreds or a handful of my friends offered to shop for the magazine to spare me the embarrassment of making the purchase. But I was determined to pick it up with my bare hands. When I very nervously ventured to make that purchase, I had to buy, uh, a hairbrush and, uh, some gum. I also needed a more respectable magazine. People it was. I then plopped it all in front of the cashier, with Penthouse on the bottom of the pile. Wait, I needed to flip it over and turn it upside down first.

“I’m just buying that because I’m published in it,” I announced to the cashier, reprieving myself of any sense of blasphemy. The woman shot me a blank look that said, “I don’t give a crap. Just hand over your money and scram, kid.” But you didn't even ask for my ID, I thought, highly disappointed that I (1) looked my age and (2) was committing blasphemy with such ease. So I went home with my Penthouse, Trident spearment gum, a pink hairbrush that I never used, and a copy of People with chimpanzees on the cover.

Upon thrusting it out of the bag and opening to page 38, I was shocked to behold that the Penthouse “reporter” misquoted me. How young and naive a gal in her 20’s can be. I believed everyone who told me they read it for the quality articles. I expected justice had been earned by this writer! No, my statements had been taken out of context and magnified in font that was at least 24 point occupying a prominent text box centering the page. The savvy "reporter" spelled my name correctly, so I decided to enjoy the magazine. It wasn't worth getting distraught over.

Let me bring you on home now, dear reader, as I sit at my usual spot in front on my loyal HP. The tone and substance of my writing seem to have shifted subtly over the years. I’ve shifted from researching sociological phenomenon that set the foundation for genocide to, dating, sex, and stuff like that. Wow, I’m repressed. I mean, wow, I’ve regressed.

The point of the matter is that yesterday, I was offered some money for my writing! What I’d like to say again is: !@#$%^&*+!!!!! Woo hoo! Sorry, I’m back. My dear followers, I will be published in Being Single Magazine. The circulation may be smaller than the Penthouse predators. But this one is a high quality, respectable publication. It’s based out of Chicago and run by a reputable Publisher and well known author, Bonita Bennett. She’s my hero. I’d like to exclaim once more: !#&!#@*^&*!!

Re-Dating and Pre-Dating

I had a re-date last night. To be clear, I did not have a first or second date last night. I did not have a me date, a wee date, a pee date, or an afternoon tea date last night. So now that we’re on the same page, I rank it as pretty okay, as far as re-dating goes. The standards for re-dating are, logically, a bit more rigid than the typical dating standards.

When it comes to the re-date, the other person needs to profoundly up the ante to make up for his, or hers - I suppose but not really, ways. After all, it could not have been me or you, dear reader, who was at fault for the rupture in the first place. Thus, the other re-dater needs to perform exceptionally well this time 'round.

In this case, my re-dater had stopped calling months ago after about 6 dates. He was also very suave in imparting all indication that he was not at all interested. See Top 10 Signs the Dude's Just Not Into You. He inspired that piece. Alas, I felt jilted but being the mature, sophisticated, grounded woman that I am, I fired off a nasty email to him. As it goes in life, the last thing I expected was the first thing that happened. He called to ask me out again.

This inquiry came with a sincere apology, aligned with flattering compliments about my appearance. But I have learned my lessons. They can’t and won’t suck me in this way. No. I’m not weak or naive. Not anymore. Not this single divorced woman. I don’t need a man and I’m not settling. Damnit. No, instead I gently reminded him of a few things that were perhaps a bit less than perfect for me and then, AND ONLY THEN dear reader, did I jump on him. I mean, did I readily agree to the re-date.

Let’s face it, anytime you preface the word “date,” it’s a red flag. Hell, use of the word alone sends enough red flags flying to stop all traffic in Detroit. Further, the need, I mean the magical opportunity, for a re-date means that neither of you has successfully found another person who is suitable for dating. Therein resides the mystical formula for re-dating.

Years ago, I had a party. My friend, Diana, brought her husband along with a close male friend of hers. She introduced this friend as someone who “pre-dates” them as a couple. The concept of pre-dating filled the room with excitement. We were thrilled to consider this strategy. (This was years ago, mind you, and thus much closer to the 60’s.) I tried desperately to recruit the guy to do some of my pre-dating, but he wouldn’t have it. He declined.

Yet wouldn’t it be great to have a friend do all of your pre-dating for you? Bottom line here, I don’t trust my own judgment. I can’t. I have no reason to. Cases in point: the exes, except the ones who might happen to be reading this. You’re still the one for me, babe. Wink, wink, hair fling, kiss, and *#@**!! Sigh.

Anyway, I do believe that a caring friend should complete one round of the initial dating for you. I don’t think that’s asking too much. After all, we’d do it for them, right? Think about all you could learn, at no emotional or practical investment whatsoever. You’d get the important questions answered: Is he cute? How did he smell? Did he talk about the ex? Did he make a move? What was that like? Would you do him? Did you do him?

I suppose I cannot take full credit for this invention, given the escort industry and all. I haven’t accessed this service myself, else I’d have a much greater blog following. I do imagine, though, that the problem with escorts is that they are not so likely to are about you. It’s not their goal. No, I’m pretty sure they’re just doing it all to earn a buck. What good are they, really? Never mind. Perhaps that’s for another time, when I do set out to increase my following exponentially. I am starting to feel desperate (to increase my following that is. What were you thinking, there?), so stay tuned on that score. Or not.

Back to my point, again, as if I even have one. Whether or not I will have any re-re-dates, only time will tell. But I do predict that the pre-dating phenomenon will take off in 2010. Any volunteers?

A Childish Reminder for the New Year

The most precious form of life is the child.

Second is the cacao plant.

~Be childlike. Indulge. ~

Love to my following,

Robyn Alana Engel

Note: This triple dose of preciosity is my nephew, Jeremy, with a couple of Bob's Big Boy hot fudge cakes. Like nephew, like self.