I Like A Boy . . . Who Just So Happens To Like A Different Boy

A few months back, by chance, I met a guy. A gay guy. And he was nice. And I liked him.

It was all kinds of awesome. Until he told me about his boyfriend.

It's the part of conversations that I truly hate and tend to expect nowadays. At what seems to be my rapidly approaching "middle age," everyone has a past or present. There is always someone to discuss during casual conversation. If I had a nickel for every time I have had to hear about the wives, the girlfriends, the exes, the boyfriends, the partners, the flings, the babysitters, the children, I would have a vast amount of coin.

I'm just gonna say it: I think I'd prefer to be penniless.

It isn't because I'm not happy for them. Quite the opposite. But, at this stage in the game, it just makes me feel a little bit sad. Especially when he's cute. Especially when he's nice. And especially when it seems like he is interested in me, too.

Did I mention that?

Well, he does! He plays it real cool and I actually think for once in my life that I might be playing it cool too. Because he also has become a nice friend. Someone to know, who is gay, who loves the same things I do, and we have a lot to talk about usually. It isn't forced. It is all just nice. And we recently began to flirt on our last time of hanging out.

Which leads me to sit down here and spill my guts in my I Am So Gay blog. Because what couldn't be more relatable to all of us than liking someone.

We all have.

Unrequited.
Or requited.
Or Forbidden. The kind of "Danger! Will Robinson!" forbidden.
Or one sided.

We have all been there. In fact, I have a long history of liking guys who have looked right past me. It all brings me back to high school when I loved, loved, loved Joe. Joe was in the same grade as me. He was tall, and a runner, and smart, and funny, and a little strange. He was great.

He was also straight, which is always an obstacle in any gay romance. So, needless to say, our friendship was only that. But, I liked a boy.

This time, and many boys later, I like a boy who at least bats for my team. Score 1 for me. Unfortunately, he has a boyfriend and lives with him. And they have dogs. So, things were looking pretty grim.  I mean - they have dogs, people! Show over. They might as well have already monogrammed the bathroom towels already.

Flash forward to last Thursday, an old friend of mine came to town. She invited me to an alumni function that her British fashion school was hosting. Since I work in the industry, it could be a good opportunity to network as well as catch up with her.

Aside from being two degrees outside, the night was fun. I looked amazing (he said humbly). I was wearing my vintage navy blazer I scored in Brussels while on vacation, a Scottish looking green plaid shirt, tight dark jeans and cute oxford shoes.

I spent a good 45 minutes talking with someone who eyed me earlier in the night. He was tan, about my height, stylish hair, and looked in decent physical shape. I was on cloud nine. And, at about the 40 minute mark, that was when he went in for the kill. He casually dropped the "my girlfriend" line.

He was lucky I had 2 glasses of wine already.  

I mean, come on! I invested time, you know? This was a networking event for fashion and he is a graphic designer. If I wasn't getting a job out of this, the least I could have gotten was dinner.
Instead, I got a business card and an offer for his help to design my book cover. (Yep, it's happening. I am writing a book! Squeal!)

But whether the graphic designer would happen would be another tale. I found my friend and was ready to leave the event. It was close to ten and my little belly was busting out of my blazer at this point in the night. Cinderella was leaving the ball.

My friend was happily talking with an artist looking type, who slightly resembled a younger Benedict Cumberbatch. Google him now if you don't know him. Besides being handsome, he is also the star of  Sherlock. Which you should go watch on Netflix after reading my blog. You're welcome.

The man she was speaking to was younger than me, but seemed engaged the minute I showed up and he even gave me his business card and wanted to have drinks. In a matter of seconds, with putting no effort or interest at all, I seemingly had a future date. In the brutal cold, the man even walked my friend and I to the subway station. This had some promise.

And it was a surprise.

I have spent the better part of my life looking and being looked past and here was someone who throwing out the digits. And he was French. Which makes the whole thing seems cooler, if you think about it.

While in my heart, I cannot yet say "au revoir" to the boy who has a boyfriend, it is certainly very fun to think about it all. I cannot tell you how many parties or functions I have been at, seen a cute guy, and  - BAM - he's got someone else. Weddings, art galleries, birthday parties, children's playgrounds - nowhere is safe.

Never has it happened with a slight surprise. A possible happy ending to this "fairy" tale. Pardon the slur pun. But I did warm up, walking home on that sub zero night.

Imagine, a boy liked me and I just so happen to maybe like him back.

Now that's "parfait."

2015 . . . This Is Going To Be My Year

As January 2015 is quickly coming to a close, I wanted to take time to quietly (and openly share on a blog!!!) my resolutions that I made for this year. Just to say: I normally do not make "New Year's Resolutions."  I prefer to think I make daily decisions to make my life better instead of just pledging to do so.  I guess my opinion is that resolutions seems like wishing and I would rather just be doing.

But, as the holiday season was approaching, I realized that I was in a bit of a funk and ultimately not very happy. I was going through the motions in a lot of ways and not finding things that made me happy. Which is pretty odd for someone like me.

I am a pretty simple guy when it comes to being happy. I love to go for a run. I love to travel. I love to online shop. I love to be around people I love. These are not hard things to do if you have a little change in your pocket, which I was lucky to have.

Yet, I wasn't doing it in ways that made me happy. Or maybe the normal stuff just wasn't doing it anymore. I had hit a personal wall.

In any event, I decided to shake things up a bit. As the days toward 2015 were approaching, I reflected only to myself about some slightly heavy questions.

What are the things I don't do but could?

What are things I could do and should?

What I decided to tackle were two very simple and realistic things to do.

The first thing was that I needed to make myself a priority. That sounds extremely selfish and vapid. And it is. And I don't care what people think. It's not like we all don't need to do things for ourselves from time to time. What I mean about making myself a priority was that I am living this life. No one else is going to do it for me. So, I need to make sure I eat right, exercise right, and take care of my body better. So, it may sound diva-like to make yourself a priority, but the actuality is that I am merely doing now what all people should be doing for themselves every single day.

These are very small things but I was just really bad at the upkeep. Part of the thing about being single is I don't have a spy in my apartment to nag at me about going for that run or simply to brush my teeth at night. Confession time: I really hate brushing my teeth at night. In many ways, I am seven years old running amok as an actual grown up. I know there are other seven year-old adults out there. Join me, my brothers and sisters! Together, we can have ice cream for dinner!

Wait - no! I am trying to make healthy decisions. So, last night was an exciting home made meatloaf with charred Brussels sprouts over a bed of arugula and spinach. I even recently bought The Performance Paleo Cookbook, which I believe will help me to make better eating at home decisions. Small steps, but the victories for me are the doing and not the wishing.

The second thing I realized was that I needed to go out more. I am the type of person who gets completely overwhelmed by big ideas so I try to break it down and find the small things to do first. "Going out more" in a city of 8 million people is overwhelming. It can literally take me an hour by subway to go essentially 4 miles. With that kind of math, I determined I can run faster than the subway. (Fun fact: I can't run faster than the subway. Did you think I was Superman or something? You did? Awesome!)

But, I digress. In order to "go out more," I did 2 things. I combined my love of online shopping and my desire to see more Broadway shows. Through the great people at Living Social, Groupon and Gilt City, I have seen Cabaret, It's Only A Play, If/Then, Disgraced and On The Town. I saw five Broadway shows in one month! My seats were up high but so was my smile. I didn't and still don't care that I saw it in the cheap seats. The thrill was that I was there.

I also joined a meetup.com group to not only put myself out there in the big city, but also to try to meet a species called Single Gay Men. Unfortunately, the first planned outing of the month was a bowling night and was the same night as one of my plays. Instead, I was able to attend a movie night at a Hell's Kitchen bar, just this past Thursday. Going to something like this was a big deal for me because I am surprisingly shy in large groups of people. Especially when I don't know anyone. Especially when they are "Attractive" and/or "Judgmental."

I went all the way there and almost left. Twice. I pushed through my fears and some people (it was really crowded on the 2nd floor) and made it to movie night. The evening wasn't so bad and, while I'm not suddenly the belle of any ball, it also got me out there and meeting people. I talked to some dudes and watched a movie. Life ain't all bad. Small steps and the victory of doing.

What I have found so far is that I am less "results" oriented and more pleased when I am just doing stuff. Who cares if I ran 3 miles or 5 miles? I ran. Who cares if my Broadway show cost $22 in the nosebleed seat and wasn't center orchestra? I didn't.

I have ideas for what the rest of this year will look like. I want to try rock climbing at Brooklyn Boulders. I will join a gym this year. I will run at least one half marathon this year, Maybe more. Maybe I try a Speed Dating night. Or that drink Mixology night I saw online. I think Living Social and Groupon are playing prominently in a lot of these ideas. And that's fine by me.

All I know is: I super duper love sitting my oversized butt on my couch and watching countless hours of Netflix and Amazon and Hulu and Downton Abbey. So, I really do need this crane sized resolution of getting me to do more. And I finally found that crane inside myself to make it happen.

I encourage everyone to do the same. I am sure Michelle Obama would approve.

London Calling (and Paris, and Seoul, and ....) : One Gay Travel Guy's Thoughts

So, if there is one thing you could ever know about me - besides being a gay, funny, who loves to run but is also a breathtakingly smart, beautiful, and amazing best friend to all - is that I also LOVE to travel.

When I was born, I lived one street across from my dad's parents. You could literally hop a fence and be over at Grandma's and Grandpa's house. So, right from the beginning, I wasn't exactly sprouting wings.

When I was 2, my family made an "Oregon Trail" type of journey. (You only get this reference if you used computer in the 80s and frankly I feel sorry if anyone missed out on this game. Danny has yellow fever?! Again?! Up, Danny died now. Crap.)

This trek of epic proportions still kept us in the same town I was born in, but this time we were one suburb over. No one got yellow fever. Because, basically, it's less than a ten minute drive. It was arduous. And this time, instead of being 1 street away from grandparents, we were 6 streets over from my other set of grandparents.

In my 2 short years on Earth, the lesson I learned was: you can run, but you can't hide.

And that was true until I was 13. My Dad saved and saved and squirreled money and even robbed a bank (he didn't rob a bank), all so we could have the trip of a lifetime. We took a cruise to the Bahamas and then went to Disney World. It was amazing.

Who knew ocean water could be clear? We were from Massachusetts. The only ocean I had ever seen was at Cape Cod. And that stuff was cold and dark and I truly think seaweed monsters live in the tide and will eat you if given the chance. Seriously, so much seaweed. This water I could see my feet in. Let's swim forever!

The food! I can have HOW MUCH ice cream?

Above anything, I just remember feeling far away. We wrote postcards and really felt out of the country. At least I did. We were told about Bahamian culture and took a tour of the island and learned something. It just felt like my motley family and I were explorers. It was invigorating.

Later, when we did go to Disney, I was floored by Epcot. I understand to the non-American that the idea of Epcot with its bastardized versions of countries could seem trite. I challenge you on this, though. Where else can you get exposure for the first time to countries as diverse as Morocco when you are 13 and living in Springfield, Massachusetts. This was 1992, folks. This guy hadn't even tried sushi yet! That wouldn't come until the year 2000. Y2K indeed!

Where I grew up is perfectly lovely, but I wouldn't say it's the epicenter of culture and world wide diversity. It's not a London, a New York, or another major city where so many walks of life cross. It just isn't. And to be honest - there are only a handful of places in the world where you can get that true exposure to vast diversity. So, Springfield was no Epcot.

I treasured for years and years my silk fan with my name written in Chinese - from Epcot China. Though, I do remember being kinda tired by the time we got to China. It was literally around the world at Epcot - quite possibly the last country or second to last we saw that day. My feet and lack of passport was tired, but it sparked something within me. I knew right then and there that I would grow up and travel.

I kept a journal when I was in high school. (What's a journal you ask? Well, it's like an iPad, but you use a pen and paper and there's no internet yet. What's a pen you ask? Sigh.)

In my journal, I wrote a wish list for things I wanted to do when I grew up. I'm not yet grown up, so I still have time, but astonishingly - I did some of the things on that list. Of the list of 16 things, only one was travel related - but it was number one on the list.

"Go on a gondola in Italy."

/

Does this gondola make my butt look too big?

And I did - in March 2009.

And it was awesome.

I think we could buy a bottle of wine and drink it on the gondola. The gondoliers supplied the plastic cups. In this picture, it looks like I am double fisting. I am not. I am holding the cup so my friend Erin could take a picture of me. I did imbibe pretty nicely that last day in Venice, though.

It was magical, but in a sense, it was just so-so. I had blown it up in my head that riding a gondola would be this "Oregon Trail" style journey, but like all things, it was just something to do.

The earth did not stop. Mine did for a moment, but then it started spinning right back up again. Like all things do.

So, it only emboldened me to see more. Do more. And I have.

A year later, I visited Vancouver and Whistler, right after the Winter Olympics. And took a train down to Seattle because why not? When will I ever go to Seattle and I'm close by, right?

I started seeing more of our beautiful country after Seattle because we should see the 50 states we live in - even the ones that don't vote for gay rights. (Though, not to single anyone out here, but I'm not too fond of you, Arkansas.)

I explored Las Vegas, and the Hoover Dam. I'm a nerd. I like educational things - even on my vapid vacations. Pool time, drinks, and a museum? Check, check, check.

I went to Miami and drove - by myself - to Key West. Beautiful. Again - did 2 museums in Key West alone. Hello, President Truman and Mister Hemingway!

Glamour shot on the California coast line, near Malibu. Maybe. 

I took a Thelma and Louise style road trip with my good friend, Stephanie (the talent behind the amazing web site: http://stupideasypaleo.com/).  She bravely drove us up and down Southern California: San Diego, Palm Springs, Temecula, Santa Barbara (we call her "St. Babs) and then Los Angeles. 

And I saw the tar pits! (yes, you read that right. Not one star - but lots of tar for this guy in L.A.)

Back to being international, I've been to Bermuda this year. Since I've already seen the Bahamas, I'm probably just one more island away from my Beach Boys Island Club Membership.

It comes with a tee shirt!

(No, it doesn't.)

I have seen Seoul and Hong Kong twice this year for work. And while you're working away, you can still get a sense of the people and the culture, and it's really breathtaking in its own way. Just going to Asia, though, you feel like it isn't much different from home. Most cities just aren't. They still have subways. They have taxis. They have all the chain retail shops you know or have heard of. Restaurants are all basically the same.

So, it's with this hindsight of traveling, that I can say this: when you go to all these places and see what is exciting and different, it is also just so normal, too. The things you see are just there. They happen. Landmarks like the Space Needle or the Hollywood Walk of Fame are fantastic to see and experience, but then it becomes your past and it's a memory just like all your other memories. To travel is just as special as someone's amazing birthday party. In your heart, it's really no different.

It is also true you become a more enlightened person when you travel, but I am still that boy with a journal. I still have a list of things to do. It never goes away just because you saw this place or that.

Having said all that, I have an upcoming trip - a 12 day journey. This one really is like an Oregon Trail. Stephanie and I will be doing another Thelma and Louise style road trip, though, we will narrowly avoid any cliffs or canyons (I hope). I am making a one day stop over in Amsterdam (due to a long layover) and will enjoy a canal cruise and the Van Gogh Museum and lots of coffee - but probably from a Starbucks and not from any of the famous coffee shops.

From Amsterdam, I will fly and meet Stephanie in Glasglow, Scotland. After that, it is just days filled with seeing Scotland, London, Paris, and Versailles. I will have done 4 countries in 12 days. It blows my mind when I think of the scope of all I will see and too. I am beyond excited.

I have joy because I have come a long way since that baby across the street from Grandpa. I have seen literally the world in a sense, but yet, only a small part of it.

I encourage you to travel, even if it's just to a part of your state you've never seen. Or maybe even just Epcot. Who knows what it might spark?

Our Sunday Morning Chats

Every Sunday morning, I call my parents. It is our agreed upon time to talk once a week. They can call me during the week, but only if it's something serious. This rule was lovingly enacted to prevent my mother from calling me during the week to ask if I still used Degree deodorant - "because it's on sale this week." (This is just an example. Other examples include: "what was your friend's name who went to that school in Boston?" and "when do you come home again?")

I know. I'm cursed with terribly loving parents. Life is rough.

The Sunday chats, as they are known, have grown increasingly important over the years. Some weeks, I leave more concerned about my parents' fate than ever before. (They clearly need a babysitter over there.) Some weeks, I leave more refreshed and feel more loved than I ever have before.

The Sunday chats are what you could call a 'good with the bad' kind of thing. For example, it depends on how we all slept the night before. It could be real rough if one of us gets on the phone before he has his coffee (Ahem, me. Ahem, Dad.) It could also be less than fun if someone is sick, feels a sickness coming on, or saw someone at work sneeze. But, having said that, it can also be totally funny when the jokes get cracking. (This week's best joke: My mother was worried about me taking a sightseeing bike tour, saying I hadn't been on a bike in quite some time. I asked her is she had ever heard the saying, 'it's like riding a bicycle," much to my mother's quiet laugh. I know what you're thinking. The jokes get pretty wild!)

These chats started some time around when I had moved to the Washington D.C. area back in 2002. They would happen in frequently as I worked in retail and had a constantly changing work schedule. Eventually, in 2006, I found office work in New York and the chats found their regular home on Sunday mornings. This would be the time my parents where news would be shared, concerns over each other voiced, and always ending with the same question: "So, what are you doing today?"

After at least 7 years of steady chats, I started to reflect upon them. I wish I had recorded some of them. I wish I recorded all of them. It's a diary entry in the purest form: simple dialogue.

My parents are, in a sense, my friends. They know most things about me (mostly because I am a terrible liar.) They know my fears, they know my goals and they know my passions - all because I share them. Unabashedly.

Often, though, the calls digress into their petulant son pushing them to change. A few years back, I won the battle for one of them to get a debit card, which Mom now loves. ("It's saved me so much because I don't have to ordering new checks!," Mom recently said.) Granted, they only got the Debit card/ATM card because they were going to Ireland and I told them they wouldn't have to get traveler's checks. ATMs would give them cash at the daily exchange rate. And they wouldn't have to worry about losing any checks. My logic made sense, I guess. (Greg - 1. Parents - 8,954)

Sometimes, I feel like the chats have a reverse effect that way. The child parents the parent. Not in any real sense, but there have been times where I have definitely enlightened them. Dad will tell me about his dinner the night before and I will stress the importance of adding green vegetables to his plate. There's always a lot of soups and potatoes in these stories. (Dad loves to tell me about when he eats out for dinner. The man likes a restaurant and likes to talk about it. Is that so wrong?)

In a way, I am grateful to have this kind of relationship with the two folks who raised me. It's more conversational and easy. I feel I have truly gotten to know my parents as the people they are, rather than the people I think they are. Some of my friends don't have this kind of relationship with their parents and it makes me feel sad. To be my age and not have an open dialogue with my parents would feel like a missed opportunity.

I still regard them as my parents. I don't call up and say,"Hey Bruce, how's it hanging?" (Mostly because I will never use the expression "how's it hanging" ever in my life time.) Instead, these chats just show how natural they truly are. It always felt wrong to me when parents break down the difference between child and parent. There's a reason why someone is the adult. The "cool" parents when you are young weren't necessarily "good" parents. I don't remember ever really respecting those who let their kids drink "because they were going to do it any way."We had alcoholics in my family so I knew my parents were only trying to protect me. They were the adults in the situation.

Even though we are now all adults, there are things I still learn from them and will continue to do. And, like I said, it's reciprocal. What started as an obligation for a kid in his early 20s to call home and check in turned into a fun and weekly event. I still limit it to once a week. Why ruin a good thing? Besides, Mom now has email to ask me if I still use Degree deodorant.

Dance, Monkey! Dance!

Some days, it's hard to be perky.

Some days, it's hard to be the person others want you to be.

On those occasions, you just want to throw on the baggiest of tee shirts and your ill-fitting sweatpants and call it a day. But, you can't. Because you need a job. And because it's summer right now. (They don't call 'em sweatpants for nothing!)

So, you force a smile and you put a pep in your step. And it sucks royally.

But, you manage. Because that's what you are supposed to do.

I don't, as a general rule, like to do any of that. I usually am a "say what you feel" type. And it often gets me and my big mouth in trouble. (Look for my new book out this Fall: How to Lose Friends and Alienate People .  .  .  Part Three.)

But, I find that I am able to be genuinely happy a lot of the time because I am always honest with my feelings and what I say. I often don't censor or filter, unless needed. I strive to never say anything hurtful, but if asked how I'm feeling I don't lie and say, "GREAT!"

Having said all of this, I still have those days where I wish I could curl into a big blanket that provides the warmest of hugs. I sincerely think if everyone had a pair of strong arms at home that gave the world's best hugs, there would be less crime, wars, drugs, plagues, and overall frowny faces. People would just be happier with a hug.

It's why we sleep in beds. All that bedding. Multiple pillows. It's a giant, foamy, mattressy hug. "Mattressy" being a word and all.

Unlike my other blog posts, this would be the time where I say I digress and "but my point is."

Today, though, I am not sure I have a point. Just sharing my thoughts. We all gotta dance.

She Works Hard for the Money, said Donna Summer. So hard for it, honey. And that is what brings me to title of this post: "Dance, Monkey! Dance!" Ms. Summer may have the point, after all. People work hard. People trudge along and do errands. And tasks. And meetings. And appointments. And responsibilities. And it's all just . . .  

While we don't have a gun pointed at our feet, the world does spin because people do things they (quite possibly) do not want to do.

And what if we all did what we wanted to do and stopped being dancing monkeys?

What if you just baked all day? Every day? And you shared that with people? And that was your life's work?

That could be pretty neat, right?

It's just a thought. And it's a thought that makes me want to wrap myself up in a duvet and give myself a mattressy hug tonight.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

We all know the song. We all know the lyrics. And the prolific Ms. Lauper would agree.

Some boys take a beautiful girl

And hide her away from the rest of the world

I want to be the one to walk in the sun

Oh girls they want to have fun

Oh girls just want to have fun

And - for me - it's so true.

I recently had a stay-cation in NYC over the July 4th week and I really loved it. I didn't do too much that was overly fancy or special. I went to the beach a lot (yep - Coney Island)! I went every day from Thursday through Sunday. And by being "the one to walk in the sun," I got myself a nice tan.

Earlier in the week, the weather was muggy and hot, but cloudy and rainy and stormy. And grey. Not pretty weather to do things.

Goofy Hydration Deprived Self Pic.

So, I went to the New York Transit Museum by myself, where I took photos of myself in different train cars through the years.

You can see the goofy self-pic. The museum, in a former subway station, is now a historical site. As such, they will not air condition the parts that were once the actual station. The only air conditioned portions of the museum was in the way back, and was basically a movie room and one exhibit.  The rest of the place was pure Summer heat. Needless to say, my face is the result of losing 10 lbs. of sweat. Just look at how skinny my arms look?

(Consequently, I recommend everyone go to this museum in the blissful month of October.)

On any vacation, I like to do something a little vapid - like sun, shopping, drinky-poos. But, I always like to do smart things: educational, historical and special. So, I learned about New York traveling. I've been traveling in style since 1979, but could New York say the same?

Well, I watched a Grand Central short film that inspired me that New York could. However, I will still never forgive the City for demolishing the former Pennsylvania Station and building Madison Square Garden in its place. Look up the photos of Penn Station in the early 1900s and look at pictures of what it looks like in its modern form. Your jaw will drop at the disparity.

My little trip inspired me.

Do things. Little things. Fun things.

Everyone's life can be amazing. Every day can be filled with something special. You just have to find it.

Some days, I splurge . . . on a drink at Starbucks. That is my special thing that day. Wa-hoo! And it cost less than 5 bucks. But for that brief few moments  - where you take that chance to just breathe and smile, talk and laugh, and sip on a drink with a friend - can be absolute magic.

Some days, I do truly splurge on a theater ticket. I am going this Friday to see a new Broadway show called "Date Night." I was going to "Date Night" by myself. I will let the irony sit in for a second.

I can wait.

Now, I have a married couple going with me, too. A married, heterosexual couple. They bought their tickets later, so I will still be sitting alone. At "Date Night."

But, it's fun. And I didn't actually splurge (code: spend much). I got the ticket on sale at Living Social, with an extra 20% off coupon code. Did I mention I used ebates.com to get some cash back?

http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=M5W50P93x%2FIypJry1Er1Xg%3D%3D

Online shopping is awesome!!

I digress. My point is: I strive to enjoy my life every single day. A few years ago, I made this pledge to myself to find joy every, single day. And most days, I do.

The trick is, though, that you have to remind yourself to do it.

On a particularly stressful work day, I ran out of the office to go to a gallery I had seen on the Today show. For the cost of ZERO dollars, I looked at some paintings of Snoopy by Tom Everhart. And they were awesome, and suddenly - so was my day.

It's just about finding your simple pleasures. Some people find their happiness in food, in drugs, in drink. And while I do like my win-o, I challenge people to find the joy in a beach trip, in a museum, in a an afternoon with an iced coffee with a friend. Or in my case, in all 3. But, don't forget about "Date Night."

Because "Date Night" with my straight homies is gonna be awesome!

Dear George Clooney,

I heard today that you are single. 

I heard that you were dumped. 

The thought alone makes me tingle. 

So, date me please. I'm starting to feel rather pumped.  

Now, I know what you are thinking. The above poem isn't the most eloquent of mine, but I think it has a certain quality.

You see, George, I know that life hasn't been easy for you. You had to really work it to make it to where you are today. You had to act in movies like Batman and Robin. That place in Italy wasn't going to pay for itself.

So, naturally, you had to date all these young little ladies. You needed some arm candy to take to the awards shows. I get it. Plus, it has been good PR for you to seem so elusive. It definitely helped you exude that romantic leading man quality in films like One Fine Day. 

But, it's your time now. You can stop wasting it with those other women.

Two of them have been on Dancing with the Stars, for god's sakes!

It's time to shake things up. Get a little classy. Get a little brave.

Start dating me.

I've been right here this whole time.

And I absolutely love Italy.

Better still, I have ZERO interest in being on Dancing with the Stars. I can't dance. Plus, I would be too competitive and probably step on Cloris Leachman's feet if she started stealing my spotlight.

Just think about it.

You've given this whole mysterious, can't-tie-me-down image a good run. Now, it's time for something new. It's not like I am asking you to make another Ocean's Twelve or anything. That would be crazy.

Do something easy. Just date a dude.

The time is now.

I'm here waiting by the phone. . . call me! (sigh!)