On behalf of Single (in both the city and everywhere else) Women ...

.... it is my duty to join the chorus of folks lambasting Rush Limbaugh today and calling for someone with some decency to shut him down.

What an indefensible, misogynistic douchebag. 

I don't want to hear he should be defended because other men in public positions are also misogynistic and haven't been called out.   Is hate speech a tit-for-tat contest?  Calling women who fight for insurance to cover birth control are sluts and prostitutes who should videotape and share their sexual experiences for the "paying public"?  In the same breath lamenting the failure of family values?  Those phrases stand on their own. This is not political. This is hateful.

I'm thrilled that he has almost no political support.

Thrilled that even conservative commentators can't justify him.

Thrilled that he's being boycotted.

Thrilled that even his transparent apology to stop his ad-sponsor bleed is impressing few.

Including me.  I just signed this.  And it feels good.

(True) public service

It's such a beautiful morning here:  breezy, sunny and blue, like an advertisement for a Triple A travel destination photo.

So, seems pointless to fuss about what makes my blood pressure rise today .... stubborn politicians being out-of-touch jackasses with little regard for anything but ideology.  I don't remember feeling this sincerely riled up about policy since Donald Rumsfeld was a daily news fixture. To wit, this exchange on Facebook yesterday with my former roommate, Tim:

Karin's Status: Oh, you congressional Republicans. Intransigence is always so sexy.

Tim's 1st Reply: Karin sending me running for a dictionary is always so sexy.

Tim's 2nd Reply: LOL and I am being sincere.

Karin's 1st Reply: Tim, why can't you be straight and rich?

Tim's Retort: I would be a republican and you would despise me. :-)

Karin's Sigh: I want to like Republicans. I really do. They just make it so difficult....

Tim's Affirmation: They sure do!

As a citizen watching our country in peril on a sunny Thursday morning, there's nothing I can do to effect the situation but gripe .... which, from my office chair in Boston, is hardly going to make Eric Cantor back down.

In the interest of things I can control ... let me reintroduce y'all to Storyhill -- a guitar duo from Montana, on my radar since 1996 when my sister sent me a mix tape.  Since then, I forever associate their sound with road trips, Minnesota corn fields, feeling relaxed and good.  I own their albums, met them at my 10-year college reunion (see below), saw them not once but twice at Club Passim in Cambridge, listen to something from them weekly.  They're still playing together.  They're possibly the nicest guys alive.

(Really. Their website says they just embarked on "A Prairie Home Companion's" cruise of Nova Scotia. What could be nicer than that?)

2005 ... with Chris and Johnny 
at the Plains Art Museum, Fargo ND


Yesterday, biking,  "Room In My Heart" showed up in the iPod rotation.  In my new quest for positivity, I noticed that the lyrics could apply to how a girl could choose to feel about a guy she once loved, and how not every current thought has to be a resentful one.  

Nice work guys, again.

Room In My Heart

There was a time I'd do anything for you

If your roses went blue I made them red

It's not that they're dead, but those flowers don't bloom

It's just empty wands instead

You should know wherever you go

If you're lost in the crowd

Or you're happy alone

You have my attention whatever I can do

There will always be room in my heart for you

Remember that day the moon blocked the sun

And we danced all around the backyard

Playing our past on the radio

Total Eclipse of the Heart

You should know wherever you go

If your head's in the clouds

Or you're stuck on the ground

You have my commitment whatever I can do

There will always be room in my heart for you

You should know wherever you go

I'll be waiting here

You know how they say the more things change

The more some things stay the same

Things around here got perfectly clear

The minute you went your own way

You should know wherever you go

Anytime of the day, any reason at all

You have my word whatever I can do

There will always be room in my heart

You should know wherever you go

There will always be room in my heart for you

I'm a wimp.

Last night after work I had a rehearsal. 

Then I ran 5.38 miles.

Then Balint and I and another friend went to the Cactus Club on Boylston to share 2 pitchers of the house margaritas (their website is http://www.bestmargaritas.com/) and eat fajitas and quesadillas until our stomachs stretched and our minds eased from pre-dinner stress levels. 

Then I rode the bus home and checked in on OKC because, hey, I was scheduling a coffee date (yes, indeed!) and my potential date and I had not yet (probably wisely) moved beyond e-mail exchanges on the site.

While performing this innocent task of communicating with said potential date which coffee shop to meet at tonight after work, I get "hey! it's been forever! how are ya!" IMs from:

1) So Busy He's Wildly Sporadic Man   Yeah, the one who fell asleep both times we made out and then disappeared, but now shows up every couple months to tell me he misses our times together.

And:

2) Stand-Up Comedian  Yeah, the one who, 29 months after our second date, still wants me to get over him being a George W. Bush Republican and give him another chance since we're both still single and not finding anyone so, hey, why not?

So re-read the first paragraph and note the detail about having split a couple pitchers of margaritas with my friends, and don't be surprised that, despite multiple previous efforts to pointedly ignore these re-inquiries, last night I decided to not be rude.

(Yes, squigkato, fool me for the twenty-seven-hundreth time....)

And yes, last night, both men asked me out again. 

And yes, I didn't agree to go out with either of them.

But.

Since I had replied less as a means of interest and more in the interest of not being rude (and maybe helped by the tequila), I found it impossible to be blunt.  Instead, as he (respectively) mooned over our previous "cuddling" and noted fondly his memory of my legs, I deflected  the compliments with a tone of disinterest.  Kind of hoping each would get the hint and go to off to bed so I wouldn't have to be any more obvious about saying no.

And each eventually did.

But.

Why am I such a wimp?

Countdown: T-minus 13

Y'all remember I'm running the Boston Marathon in 13 days.

(No way to miss it, I know. But this tale needs a lead-in.)

My legs have been hurting now for a number of weeks. Fairly chronically. In fact, so much so, that I've set the chat status on my G-mail account to permanently read "aching and paining." I was chatting there with an OKC friend this morning who led off by asking, "so are you still aching and paining? Really?"

Yes.

Sometimes it is the side of my right knee. Sometimes the outside of my left ankle. Sometimes both ankles. When I cross my knees while seated I feel it in my quads. This morning as I was standing -- yes, standing -- in my flat-foot orthotic mary janes waiting for the bus, a muscle halfway up my right thigh began throbbing in protest because evidently I was leaning too hard on it.

Oy. Thank heaven you can't get addicted to Advil.

This is my sixth marathon and I don't remember these aches and pains in the past, even after the hardest weeks of training. (Which, admittedly, we did just come through in mid-March.) Who knows. I refuse to play the age card here, but do contend that the minute after turning 35 my joint resiliance went downhill faster than Alberto Tomba.

Nonetheless, I am fully trained and ready to get on it April 20. Near to 65 friends have donated $4500 to benefit Children's Hospital Boston and, more directly, a patient there, a girl named Jayla from Rhode Island who has Cockayne's Syndrome, in whose name I am running this year. Many of them will be out on the course to cheer me.

But my mind is not yet up to the task. I'm distracted by the crappy stock market and my car's dangling muffler pipe and by dating being so damned crazy and by insomnia and by my incomplete tax return and by the accompaniment for the musical that opens in 3 weeks that I haven't yet learned and by my cluttered apartment with cereal crumbs on a floor that hasn't been swept in 6 weeks. My mind is going to have to get focussed on those 26.2 miles, somehow, because otherwise the aching and paining is going to insist I stop before I finish.

Enter Mike Huckabee: former governor of Arkansas, Republican presidential candidate. One of both my favorite and least favorite people. Former very overweight gentleman-turned-weight loss advocate. Profiled by A.J. Jacobs in a recent edition of Esquire magazine, which I read while coming home on the train last night. To wit:

"Huckabee has run four marathons. How'd he do it?

'I made a list of twenty-six people who had made a special difference in my life in some way,' Huckabee says. 'I dedicated a mile to each one and I told them in advance — mile thirteen is yours, mile twenty-one, and so on.

'Then I put their names on a little card, and I laminated it so it wouldn't get destroyed in the sweat. You just can't quit, 'cause you would be choking on somebody's mile and you'd have to go back and tell them.'

Today Mike Huckabee is my favorite person. Because I am totally going to plagiarize his idea. It is 13 days until the marathon. I can certainly begin to focus on the race by thinking of 2 important people a day (a good practice in its own right) and asking them which mile they'd like. In fact, I could probably think of 2 people per mile.....

Which should, I hope, take the mind off the aches and pains.

Flashback (a.k.a. nowhere to run to)

Last night, a bit post-midnight, I was merrily trolling OKCupid.

Up pops a window to tell me that a "Stand-Up Man" had viewed my profile.

Yes, it was none other than this Stand-Up Man. The Republican Stand-Up Comedian. With whom I went 2 rounds back in June. Here's an excerpt recalling Date #2B:

"As you may recall, all previous conversations with S-UC contained mere snippets of the issue most likely to deal-break this relationship: politics. This was to be the litmus-test outing. And I hoped to report back that a Republican and Democrat could successfully coexist, or if nothing else, agree to disagree.

Nope. This man was so Bushy it was like being on a date with Dick Cheney. Standing on the steps of Boston City Hall, over Bud Light and styrofoam containers of ribs and beans, it took very little prompting to get him on the two-hour roll from which he couldn't extract himself. His two most-oft-uttered statements: "I don't mean to lecture you, but...." and, after I suggested we change the subject, "Well, you asked...."

Last night his arrival on the OKC came when I was mid-IM-chat with another man. So I didn't break away a few moments later to take the following chat request when it popped up:

(12:45:24 am) Standup: Yes...I voted for George Bush!
(12:45:42 am) Standup: ....but the ribs were good!
(12:49:50 am) Standup: Hi Karen...

Oy. Vey.

Double Oy Vey.

Date #2B: Agreeing to not agree to disagree

Date #2B with the Stand-Up Comedian is now on the books. He tracked me down via text message Friday afternoon and we went out for BBQ and beer Saturday evening. A gorgeous summer night in the city, so we parked far away and strolled congenially to our destination.

As you may recall, all previous conversations with S-UC contained mere snippets of the issue most likely to deal-break this relationship: politics. This was to be the litmus-test outing. And I hoped to report back that a Republican and Democrat could successfully coexist, or if nothing else, agree to disagree. Yes, we're talking a Bush Republican and a W-hating Enthusiast. But if his fealty to the current president might be because W is one of those "guys he'd love to have a beer with".....

Nope. This man was so Bushy it was like being on a date with Dick Cheney. Standing on the steps of Boston City Hall, over Bud Light and styrofoam containers of ribs and beans, it took very little prompting to get him on the two-hour roll from which he couldn't extract himself. His two most-oft-uttered statements: "I don't mean to lecture you, but...." and, after I suggested we change the subject, "Well, you asked...."

I don't remember what comment started it. But I did listen to him describe, in lengthy segments, No Child Left Behind, September 11, the history of the Iraq War and the absolute lack of strategic blunders there-in. Here is a representative sample of our "discussion" on the matter:

K: "So if the military HAD focussed their manpower and resources in Afghanistan rather than invading Iraq..."

S-UC: "But they DID, and that's why that country is 100-percent secure and we could go after those Weapons of Mass Destruction....(followed by 10 minutes of exposition on Afghanistan's security)"

K: "Oh, but recall there were no Weapons of Mass Destruction...."

S-UC: "But there were those empty canisters that they were trying to destroy....(followed by 10 minutes of exposition on how evil the Iraqi terrorists were and how they would otherwise have blown us all up)"

K: "But this war is costing $183 billion dollars a year..."

S-UC: "And isn't that a small price for our freedom....I will be forever grateful to Bush for having the courage to stand up.....(followed by 20 minutes of exposition on how the entire country of Iraq is unequivocably grateful to the United States military)"

It was partly what he said, but moreso how he said it. Not inviting return argument or questioning.

Finally, I simply asked that we stop talking about Iraq. He immediately took off his mad-professor mask and said what a great time he was having and how he hoped we'd continue the evening. So we went down the street to the Tam for a couple Brubakers. But Iraq returned, and I again had to ask it to go away or otherwise I was going to leave.

He asked if we could just agree to disagree. I suggested that this was turning out to be a bigger deal than I thought.

So, even after he still told me he'd like to go out with me again. Take me to the beach or to the movies. That he was glad I had enough passion about something to argue so vociferously. That he'd probably call me this week.

Obviously, willing to bridge the W-divide for love or lust.

Sigh. I had thought maybe I could.

I'm melancholy. This is a man who likes me. But other than his paying for dinner and giving me a ride home, I struggled to find a reason to summon even an ounce of attraction to him. Not entirely based on his Iraq lectures. But they didn't help. As he started telling me what a beautiful girl I was and how much he enjoyed my company, I couldn't think of anything to say in return. I couldn't even fake it for the sake of a kiss.

He started to make his move, grabbing my hand, and all I could think about were those lectures....and pulled away.

W, sex talk and several Hoegaardens later...

It's a comment on the excitement of my life, I suppose, when the cat toothache upstages a relatively successful date with the Stand-up Comedian.

The date gets 3 Belgian ales up....

....we both got carded at Tia's on the Waterfront. This means that we WENT to the meet-market 7-dollar beer place that is Tia's on the Waterfront.

...he was hyper-aware that I have this blog. About an hour in, he suggested that if I were to write about him, he would, conversely, put details of our date into his next stand-up routine. We then proceeded to identify the moments that might apply....although, is it a bad sign that I now can't remember any of them?

....he gave me a ride home. We put my bike in the trunk of his car, then used a rubber physical therapy strap to bungee-tie his trunk closed. Before saying goodnight, this required me to run inside and fetch a scissors to unattach it.

....of the four-hour date, only 15 minutes of it was devoted to the unavoidable fact that he is not only a Republican, but a Bush Republican. And after this 15 minutes I realized that he means it. I then tried to talk him out of it by suggesting it might be my deal-breaker. (This was a sheer leverage move....just before, we both had acknowledged that he likes me more than I like him at this juncture....) His response:

"I like to argue about this! I think it serves to increase the sexual tension..."

Between whom? I wanted to say. He has not yet realized that sex is probably the 185th thing in line that comes to mind when W's image has the unfortunate chance of crossing my brain. (I can't believe I just put W and sex in the same sentence and let it lie. In fact, the mention of the name banishes all sensual thought in its entirety.)

So to not breeze past that salient detail: He clearly likes me more than I like him at this juncture. I'm not convinced that he isn't just in awe of my shapely running legs.

But I would be remiss to ignore a rapport worth exploring again when I return from Minnesota.....which means you might someday see Date #2b in this space. And that I should probably be nice.

Loose ends, late in the weekend

1) The Friday-night Common debacle:

Both duck and girl are fine. Thank you, all.

(The most tangible after-effect was the $9 I had to shell out for the cab ride.....that, and I certainly have figured out how to get y'all's attention!)

Having another day to mull, I regret I wasn't a cooler customer. More Bette Davis in my disdain for this insignificant insect deigning to touch my coat. "Why am I so good at playing b*#$%s?" Ms. Davis once said. "I think it's because I'm not a b*#$%."

Man, when I replay the scene I could have been a great b*#$%! "Out of my way, you uncouth slug!" and all that, slinking past without a second look after slapping him on the jaw. Not that I regret having worn my tennis shoes and screaming at the top of my lungs. Or carrying the duck. But in a movie replay....would have been a total cliche....

I also can see the guy more clearly: a junkie trying to bum cash like those who troll outside of nightclubs after closing, bumming cigarettes off drunk college students. He wanted ME to be cool about it, slip him a bill, "yeah man," all that. He didn't realize he was existing in an alternative universe where women don't take well to strangers pretending they're carrying a gun.

2) The stand-up comedian conversation

Suffice to say, it went ok Thursday night. He's a local boy with a wicked Bahstan accent.

AND a Republican who is convinced that after 20 minutes and a couple beers, he will convince me to take a walk on the dark side.

Now that was funny!

He also is working up a Rick Astley imitation.

It took only 3.5 minutes into the conversation before I confessed that I was writing a blog on my dating experience. And that he'd probaby feature on it. Strangely, we just kept talking. He told me that I sound really smart.

Next up: he's supposed to call me some night to go out for a beer. Hopefully not one of THOSE beers.

3) Days gone by....match.com c. 2007

This is not my first time on match.com. I spent some time in October talking alternatively to a) "marathon mikey", a community college professor who has run 20-odd marathons and, in the voice of a motivational speaker, told me to go for my dream of running Boston; b) a personal trainer/former chef 100 miles away in Wellfleet, celebrating his 40th birthday, who wanted to take a chance on a long-distance relationship and thought I had the best legs on match.

MM and I tried one phone conversation. It was a Sunday afternoon, I was walking to Brookline. He was listening to a NASCAR race and grading papers and I hadn't slept the night before. You can imagine the un-scintillating back-and-forth. About a week later he wrote to say he was exclusively dating someone else.

But it wasn't a huge loss, because I had started a much more flirtatious exchange with the PT/Chef and liked him.....dreaming of how fit I was going to be, while at the same time eating grilled salmon like a queen and getting to be on the outer cape with free housing! He and I had planned a date in Boston for a Saturday afternoon....meeting in a neighborhood neither of us knew and exploring until we found the perfect spot for dinner.

Four nights before said date, I phoned PT/Chef to set the plan. He never responded. I e-mailed him the day before. He wrote back within the hour....on the night of my call, a tragic event rocked his world so deeply he could not remotely think about entertaining a long-distance relationship. But he was SO glad we had a chance to talk.

Yeah, right.

Both of these gentlemen have showed up on my "I've viewed your profile" list in the last two days. Their bologna has a first name: it's r-e-g-r-e-t.....:-)