I'm not really political. I mean I am in that I deeply care about what happens in our country and the world, I just don't think whether Bush or a Democrat is our president has anything to do with the outcome. Politicians pander to the special interest groups that get them elected and it's all about money whether they're GOP or Blue. I think if we all were just nicer people and helped each other and each of us didn't use that second paper towel and turned off that light and gave up that seat on the subway and let that guy cut in on the highway and prayed for everyone's well being, especially our enemies, and gave until it stung, money, time, love, service, whatever, that the world would change a lot faster than if we spent our time yelling in the streets for change or electing a different wolf in sheep's clothing. That's all I'll say about it.

Now, more importantly, along with all the Republicans who split today, I finally got word that Leggs decided to take their lead and go too. Or rather send me away. She wrote me a polite email telling me she was flattered but not interested. Oh well.

So I spent the day, a bleak, rainy one here in New York, calling two ex-girlfriends of mine to ask them if they minded if I wrote about them by name in my book or whether they preferred I keep them anonymous, or didn't write about them at all. I loved both of these women tremendously and still do. One I'm friends with and see a couple times a year, and the other I have a much deeper bond with and see more often and talk to frequently.

They both said they didn't mind if I wrote about them, one wants to remain anonymous, and I actually want her to as well as I've taken a lot of shit over my relationship with her over the years publicly and don't need it anymore. Her identity isn't important to our story and there is little reason for including it in the book anyway.

But hearing both of their voices was, as it often is, very sad to me. In good ways, but very sad nonetheless. Whenever I get rejected by a woman who I had hopes for, I like to call Kate, she's the ex I'm closest with. She always really really got me and I know she has a love for me that's deep and unconditional, as I have for her. She's happily married now with kids and we're strictly friends, but knowing that she once loved me gives me hope that someone as cool as she is out there and will love me again. So it's a wistful, melancholy, hopeful sadness all at the same time, but it helps me somehow.

Then tonight, ironically on the same block where I saw Leggs' roller derby last Friday night, I went to a party thrown by my friend Lexi who had fixed me up with April, the last girl I seriously dated. I've written about her here a bit, if you're interested you can find her in the archives.

I had hopes of this party yielding some possibilities since Lexi said there would be "tons" of single women. There weren't. There were hardly any, but I had a good time, ending up talking to a woman who is a very successful writer and who's living a charmed life. Which also gives me hope and I like to celebrate other's victories in all things, especially love, because I know how good it feels to win. She's been with her husband for 20 years since they met in high school. Married for ten, 3 kids and they live in a carriage house in Manhattan. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's like a little mansion in the middle of the city replete with a garage and three high ceilinged loft floors. They're ridiculous. Like not so little ginger bread houses. So basically she's a fairy princess who's living a dream with her prince and their three kids, and she was lovely. Nice, open, direct, unpretentious. She was amazed I couldn't find a woman.

"I feel like I could fall in love three times a week." I understood what she meant instantly. She wasn't saying in any way that she wasn't content in her marriage or life, she just meant that she meets great guys and in a parallel universe would have no trouble finding love if she didn't already have it.

"Yeah, that's because you're the perfect woman. You're hot, smart, sweet, successful, 39 and happily married with kids. You're open and have dropped all your shit. You need nothing you don't have, want nothing you don't have. You're not sending out any needy vibe. You're just a sponge. Like a child, only sexy and an adult. Like all older women. They're amazing. They drop the hate, and care, and pretense and social pressures and just become these incredible creatures, so of course you're attracting every man within a hundred miles. Of course you could fall in love with 3 of them a week. You meet great guys. Single women aren't like you."

She smiled, "I guess you could look at it that way. I think a lot of women just feel old and used up."

"But not you."

"No, not me."

"Right."

"Hmmm."

"Well if you have any friends who are like you but single... help my sequel be 'I Can't Believe I've Been Married A Year,' okay?"

"I will."

"It was nice talking to you."

"And you as well." And I left. I would have fallen for this woman in a heartbeat if she was single... but would she have been who she was if she was? Maybe. Maybe not. I think she would have been... which means if she existed once, she'll exist again. And I'll find her.

I came home after eating too much Italian food with Donny and had received two letters from people who read this blog. One was from a guy telling me he liked what I wrote but could no longer stand how badly I "sucked" at picking up women and wanted to help me as he was a "professional pick up artist." The other was from a sweet thoughtful college kid who said though strapping and tall and handsome and great and able to fuck any girl he wanted pretty much whenever he wanted, he deeply lamented not having what he really was after. Love. With one woman. And found it hard that he sometimes wasn't taken seriously as a man who might want that and not just out for sex.

It was funny reading them in that order, the guy wanting to help me not suck at picking up women and then the college kid who identified with me and I he. His letter to me would have been my response to the first guy who wrote me had I responded to him. Getting laid isn't the problem. "Picking up women?" whatever that means, as if they don't have a hand in the negotiation like it's some voodoo, some magical spell we shaman put them under without their consent...? Who's really "picking up" whom? Shit, if I wanted to have sex with women, I would and could be, just like anyone three times a day. That's easy. Finding someone to sleep with is a fucking cake walk... finding someone to wake up with.... now that's magic.

I thank both the men for their letters. As always, they and you all are my teacher and I am grateful for you. Namaste.

Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 2:37 AM

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