Where everybody knows your name....

I used to hang out a lot with Dave .

He's a singing guitar player, I'm a singing pianist. We're both narcissists about performing. So we go out for karaoke. Sing at piano bars together. And, quite seriously, worked on a lounge act featuring the duets from the Once sountrack and Paul McCartney's "Blackbird," in harmony.

Alas. Busy lives, other gigs, girlfriends, have truncated such times. Which happens.

So last night, it was a treat to hang out with Dave again, exploring some old haunts on Tremont Street.

First, The Tam. Emerson undergrads at one end of the bar.....glazed-over all-day drinkers at the other. Big screen sports highlights but cash only. Brubaker's in the bottle for 3 bucks (ahh.....), and it isn't even the cheapest brew.

In my first year of grad school, The Tam was where I had my first conversation with someone who admitted to being bi-sexual. It was the first place I saw cocaine snorted in public (or ever). The first time my wallet was stolen and the thief stuck it in his back pocket while he sat at the bar for his next round....for me to easily retrieve. I started 1 memorable St. Patty's Day and ended 2 memorable New Year's Eves there. My random date with a gorgeous Norwegian fireman ended there. So did the doomed outing with the Republican.

Dave is a dive bar fan. The Tam, and the Brubaker's, met with his approval.

Then we headed down to Encore Lounge for Tuesday-night with Bobby Femino on the piano bar.

The clientele here are primarily European tourists and gay men in their 50s and 60s who know every cabaret and musical theatre song known to man....and can sing along. Dave and I were Wednesday-night regulars once .....although it had been about 8 months since the last visit. We got a couple small glasses of ridiculously overpriced wine and lounged on a velvet couch.

It's good to have a place where you once were regulars. We might have gotten up to sing, anyway. But within minutes another regular, Bruce, called out our names from his dark corner....to introduce us to Bobby and tell him we were the singers whose turns were next.

So I spent the night in the '60s......first John Denver and, later, Mama Cass. Dave did Elton John, then Carousel, and I don't remember his third because by then we were on our next glass of wine.

But my third was Petula Clark's "Downtown"....which I always have loved singing at Encore because, hell, we are downtown, and everyone joins in on the chorus, and that when I never remember how the second verse starts, I just hold out the mike towards the crowd and Bruce fills in the blanks.

Which he did again last night, as I knew he would.

It's good to have old haunts.

Pitfalls and pratfalls

It's a common tale.

One chats away on e-mail with a new online acquaintance. She is me. He's a a serious academic...tall and shockingly handsome, writing in a bossy way....but a clever, take-charge way.

Sly humor is dished out, sly humor is returned. Chat is good. Photos are exchanged, photos are good. The chat continues. There is talk of a meeting, later. Suggestions are made.

So I ask for clarification on what later means, since the hour is already fairly late for social outings.

K: It sounds appealing....I would like to keep talking as well.....although do I throw you off stride if I'm not in a position to meet up tonight? That if we like each other and seem compatible I can ask for a rain check?

A: I am married so it has to be discreet and probably in the afternoon.

D'oh! Always.

At least he was upfront. Although, obviously, not nearly as upfront with some other (and certainly more) important folks in his life.

The Bikini Challenge (Week V: Progress)

The ugly: Friday night, after the ballet and a healthy dinner at Rustic Kitchen....almost made it home, but was seduced by Runts candy (2 bags worth) at Store 24, 2 blocks out.

Oy.

The bad: Marathon training = massive carbohydrate craving. Massive carbohydrates = extra flesh.

I know what healthy carbs are. Those just aren't the ones I crave....like Snyder's Honey Mustard Pretzel Bits. In large quantities.

The good: 25 miles of running a week is starting to show teeth. Favorite jeans, yesterday, had a modicum of breathing room. No lie.

The good (b): One pair of unforgiving silk trousers (Banana Republic, size 4, bought during a rare period during last winter's race training when my ribs were visible) fastened without extra effort this morning.

The numbers: Tonight a 5-mile run, then vinyasa yoga. Tomorrow a 6-mile run, with speedwork.

The next 3 days will be a barnstorm of activity....to preemptively counter a 4-day trip to San Francisco on Thursday involving a 6-hour plane ride full of airport temptations (See: The Ugly) and a cousin who likes to both drink beer and cook rich meats.

Should probably take the bikini along in my carry-on bag, eh?

The Men of Greater Boston

Friends privy to my past tales of romantic woe should attest--I don't get over people easily.

This is despite (my usual) common sense, despite well-meaning advice, despite a rational realization on my part that unrequited love is not sexy.

Example: A couple years ago I was involved, mostly emotionally, with a man I didn't even truly date (we just hung out a lot)....and then he moved on and moved on without me. It took me until the next New Year's Eve not to fight the rock in my stomach at the thought of him....and because we ran in a shared social circle, I saw him regularly. He did not encourage me, and I had no reason to carry a torch.

Yet, wow. During that time it was unreasonably difficult for me to be interested in other men. I had no excuse except my own inability to let it go. Wallowing in melancholy was so much more fun than trying to date, evidently.

The good news is: I indeed let the man go. It just took time.

So when I'm in these situations and mouth off to various friends patient enough to listen....a common advice refrain is:

"Karin....is this the only man in all of Boston?"

Correct. It seems I somehow build up a mindset that whatever happening I had happening was the only happiness I would ever know....that that kiss against the tree in the Arboretum would be the only time a man would kiss me like that......that no other man will again remember how I like my coffee seasoned or help me with dishes or open my car door.

Meanwhile I live in a metro area of 4.4 million citizens, half of them male, who I am not trying to meet. Some of them must be single. Some of them must know how to kiss. Some must know how to kiss well, I'm also sure.

So the last 2 days I've spent about 2 hours on OKCupid. In that time I had a thoughtful message from a 54-year old erudite (writer, author, even radio personality!) from Brookline who enjoyed my "writing wit." A 10-minute Instant Messager (IM) chat with a 23-year-old Jamaica Plainer who wanted to know if I was interested in younger men. A longer one with an avid canoer (more my age, from the north Metro) taking a break from drywalling and, seriously it seems, wants me to meet him for dinner later tonight.

This in addition to about 10 IM attempts from men (alert: vanity approaching) who thought the picture of my legs in a skirt was "hot."

Indeed, there are at least a few more men in Boston then I've been paying attention to.

This is nice to know.

Ominous omen?

So here's a question:

Last night, while diligently browsing on OKCupid!, for no particular reason and with no extraneous mouse clicks, a window opened to diligently install a virus on my laptop that eluded the security system.

It's still there today. It's lurking on the desktop....telling me that I have Spyware and I should install this new security program to combat it.....which I know enough not to....but it has disabled my internet access and general Windows desktop and needs to be zapped.

So tomorrow is going to be another Dell Service Sunday, I'd guess. And no online scoping for me tonight. (I'm here at work now, but my car's outside on a meter that has to be fed....)

It's unfortunate. I've quite enjoyed OKCupid up to this point and already have several great chats going that I can't pursue just as they're getting going.

Should I take this as any sort of sign?

Up against the wall....

.....to see what sticks.

That's the mantra for tonight. Throwing away. Typing like mad. What else is there to do in the bitter cold of a night when drinks with the marathon training team fell through? Now I'm unneccessarily jumped up on Nutter Butters, confident in that usual way I am the first 3 days on a dating website....you know, crucial to strike when I'm still the fresh meat and sharks are circling, etc. etc.

In this order, I:

1) Wrote a response to last night's Red-Hot Aries on Match. He's a drummer in a rock band. This one was easy....I just had to ask him what kind of Aries he was....

Then a message to a law student from Cambridge whose eyes, literally, pierced holes in my screen. Really. Gorgeous. Blond. Way too young. (And I thought I had sworn off law students.)

Then to a tall drink from Peabody who promised that cooking was a passion. Amazingly, I can tell you already this one is in the tank. He wrote back 5 minutes later....a speed atypical of most Matchers:

To: Cooking Man
From: Karin
Date received: February 5, 2009
Subject: Is that karaoke you're singing?

Hey there -So I was browsing along last night and thought, hmmm, that's a nice-looking man. And then I scrolled to the next picture....and, is it true? Are you singing dive bar karaoke? Dude! You must share.....what were you singing and how well did you nail it?!

To: Karin
From: Cooking Man

Stand-up comedy actually...not a huge fan of karaoke...and yeah I killed the night.

My second straight pretentious comedian with zero sense of humor. Blech.


2) Scoped for a half-hour on OK Cupid....and wrote one of my scopees, eventually.....the one with the awesome chin stubble.

Here's a reason I already enjoy this site: the correct term for for viewing other member's profiles is "stalking."

So, more accurately, I stalked several be-stubbled liberals, a few with tattoos. Woo-hoo.


3) Finally, a new one, MeetinBoston: a social networking site where members plan random events around town and, well, you just meet up and see who you meet. Their weekly newsletter arrived via e-mail this evening.

I RSVP'd to attend happy hour at The Living Room on Saturday night, thrown by member Jason who claims "the martinis are excellent." The cost is "what you consume and possibly a rough Sunday a.m." Seven attendees are already on board.

Excellent, indeed.

The work's done for tonight, and it's off to bed before midnight for the first time this week. Back to you later with a report on what (if anything) stuck.

The Scoping Defense

Let the record please show:
that the reason I don't have a coherent idea
--much less a fleshed-out piece of writing--
is because
I first dumped the contents of my head and libido onto
a match.com profile and
then spent the rest of my energy and evening
scoping.

Let it also be known:
that in my inbox sits a new message from
a new connection who calls me a
Red Hot Aries! and
who worked hard to cram himself into the definition of
everything I'm looking for and says
I have legs to die for and,
besides that,
wants to take me dancing at our earliest convenience.

I'd say the evening was a success.

Re-Matched, and otherwise....

Tonight, I had no place to be for anyone else. This was good. So....

To the gym....5.5 miles on the treadmill at 8.2-minute miles, nothing hurting.

To the bus, then home. Snow and wind outside. Fireplace and stereo inside.

Then to the stove. Two helpings of rosemary sausage risotto washed down with the dregs of the pinot gris used to cook it. Red Hook Late Harvest Autumn Ale for dessert.

This was all very good.

Then, to the computer. Tonight I also re-upped the match.com membership. (No, it's true. Hold off on the cardiac arrest.) I'm revamping my profile as I drink....which is really the only way to go about it....since this is like writing a term paper.....who am I looking for, what's the last thing I read, life goals?....blah, blah, blah. Laboriousness reigns. Need to get past this step.

Meanwhile in a third web-browser window, I'm simultaneously putting down a profile on OKCupid.com. Less expensive--free, actually--and cheekier, which is more my mood tonight, so this profile will now get more of my attention. And will probably get even moreso the farther down I get into this bottle.

It's good to occasionally be in the mood for such activity.

Hmm. So in part I've been urged back into this dating pool by an outing with the CFO Sunday afternoon. No salicious details or make-out sessions in alleys. Just coffee at Peet's and the sun in our eyes and conversation about the Obama Inauguration and the financial climate.

We walked the side streets around Coolidge Corner linking arms like bosom friends, only then getting into our romances (or non-romances) of the last 4 months. Not surprisingly, we're both in less impulsive moods and places than the summer. And the resulting quality of our conversation was tame, guarded. Undramatic.

He was frank about the woman he saw, who moved to Africa, and who he now misses. I told him how lethargic I'd felt about dating lately, and rather helpless to help myself up and out. He advised me, much like a college professor might about a job search.

So....we left it with a kiss and a goodnight and I wrote him a note that night to say thanks.....but I haven't heard back yet. Not worried about it, either, and that itself is a weight off. Really. It seems important that we had a reunion....for me to realize that I still liked being with him but could live without him. I'm not sure what sense we still make....although if we wanted to, we definitely still could make sense on a certain level. I'm now waiting to see what he thought. But, let me be clear, I am not waiting around for it.

Amen.

The CFO is actually the one who mentioned OKCupid....the hodgepodge Facebook of dating websites.....as maybe a new place to spread out in. Haven't seen much of it yet, but got a glimpse of quizzes and chats and compatibility tests and randomness.....and, as I was pleased to see, a less earnest mood. Which seems just the way to dip the toes back into the water.

Oh, that those waters not be stagnant....(!)

It's about time

C is a random male acquaintance, the friend of my former roommate Rick and his husband Phil. Some years ago we met at one of their frequent house parties in Somerville.

C is in his late 30s and works in insurance, an Italian-American who talks like it and lives in the North End. We were introduced that night while getting ready to leave, finishing beer from bottles while standing on the curb. I can't remember our conversation, other than it was pleasant. C himself was pleasant. He would give a date's mother warm fuzzies by dint of his sheer gentlemanliness. And he was single.

A-ha! (You surely say.)

But we're talking a Rick and Phil party. I expect to meet other gay men, other single women, and couples. If I have been at a party hosted by gay men and single straight men were in attendance, I don't recall having met them.

So I automatically assumed C fit the typical profile and thought no further of it. Years passed.

Fast-forward to 2007, to Rick and Phil's wedding at the Somerville Holiday Inn. I re-met C in the cocktail line, non-alcoholic tonic in hand. Our circle of gay men and straight women welcomed him to eat with us, and he quickly became a focal point: collectively, we couldn't figure out why this well-dressed, social man in his late-30s was single. Was he gay and not sharing....or just shy? A workaholic with no time for dates? Or still just figuring things out?

So what else for all of us to do, but spend the entire dinner, dance, and after-dance---really, 7 hours fueled by vodka cocktails---making bets about and efforts toward who he might snag: the single men or the single ladies.

Turns out C snagged neither. After charming us all, he drank his tonic, shunned the dancing and was the first to leave. But was still a really nice guy.....just a nice guy who gave no clue.

However, in my efforts to get him on the dance floor, I did procure a business card, and since then we have had sporadic, non-commital contact. I was once in a Fourth of July crowd at his decidely bachelor apartment. Last year he chipped in towards my Boston Marathon charity-team fundraiser.

So here we are in the present. And C's address showed up unexpectedly in my inbox 2 days ago, sparking the following back-and-forth:

----
From: C
Sent: Sunday, February 1, 2009, 4:48 PM
To: Karin
Subject: RE: Karin running the Boston Marathon

Hey, wonderful to hear from you! Of course I will sponsor you! And remember my advice from last year: play to your strengths!

---
From: Karin
Sent: Monday, February 02, 2009 11:39 AM
To: C

C__! That's awfully kind of you. Yes, you need to start harassing Rick/Phil to throw another party so we have an excuse to hang out. I was set to go to their place on New Year's and had some snafus that prevented it.

I hope you are well, and thanks again!

----
From: C
Sent: Monday, February 2, 2009, 10:02 PM
To: Karin

Sounds good. I made my donation already. I didn't make their NYE party either. But maybe if you have some free time, we could meet up for coffee somewhere. I mean really, do two heterosexuals need two gay men to bring them together?

Good point, C.

So......he answered one question without being asked. The second question....single or not?.....is up for discussion if and when he follows through. And if he does, the third question....would this be a date? And then what?

No matter then what. What fun! My friends will be so jealous....

(And, it's about time!)

The Bikini Challenge (Week IV: Sucking in)

Not much to report this week, breathless bikini watchers. Not much to report last week, either, as you notice the gap between Week II to Week IV.

Just trying to keep up the running (27 miles since Monday, 14 on sheer ice), the core strengthening (yoga and yoga and crunches galore), protein consumption (here's to daily quinoa intake) and good sleeping habits (not at all).

A new tactic came to me Friday while studying my figure in the elevator door at work: Might I tone the abs by tensing my core muscles non-stop, much like one must in yoga, while going about everyday life? After 2 days of trying I'm not sure if it actually helps or my pants and skirts fit better simply because of the new fake space in the waistband.

Speaking of small monthly goals, I'm proud to have survived the January Chocolate Moratorium. Not a bite......with the exception of an inadvertant Power Bar snafu on the 24th, when it did not explicitly say "chocolate" on the wrapper. Amazingly, the best cure for cocoa cravings has been to inhale several cans of Fresca a day. Which has tripled my aspartame consumption. Yum.

Nonetheless, nice to know a monthly goal is reachable. So I might just proclaim February the "28 days of 24-Hour Sucking-In Challenge." Just might.