On dating, love and romance
At work the other day, I heard this jingle come on:
The combination of pure cheese and earnestness struck me as funny, particularly since if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a joke. But no, it’s quite real.
After sharing my astonishment of its existence on Twitter, I was tweeted this from local PR dude Andrew Mangini:
I love picturing two guys sitting down to write this jingle and one of them going “hey, I got an idea. Check this out: COUGARCOUGARCOUGARCOUGARCOUGAR!”
Controversy over the TSA grope-a-thon at your local International Airport (making us safer I guess from all those bombs they keep finding hidden under peoples’ genitals) has taken a back seat to the biggest story of the week:
Prince William’s GETTING MARRIED!
William and Kate, Winter 2010 (photo: Alastair Grant, Associated Press)
Yes folks! Prince Handsome himself is finally tying the knot. Can you believe it? I’m so excited!
But who is this woman who’s stealing the man every woman in the world has been all hubba-hubba over? What girl has usurped and destroyed all those dreams of becoming a Princess that you’ve had ever since you were a young girl?
It’s probably some young snot with a long line of royal background and titles. She’s probably a Dutchess of some sort, or the daughter of a multi-billionaire six steps away from the line of succession in Monaco, or someone whose father is a respected and uncontroversial member of the House of Lords. Spoiled for generations and lending further chuckles and guffaws overseas to the idea that the House of Windor’s family tree only forks so far before retreating back inward.
Except…no. Surprisingly, that’s not the case at all, and therein lies the real story. Read more »
EDITED 10/7/2010 10:30pm – before going any further, please read this first.
==============
About two weeks ago, I met with Mike Huber (evil Blog Czar) at Times Union Headquarters. He took me out to get a coffee.
I ordered the Chunky Monkey, and my God it was delicious.
Example of a barista who is very nice but would also very much like it if you did not flirt with her, creepo.
The girl who rang us up…we’ll call her Midge. She was pretty cute. Yeah, I was smitten, and I’m not one of those guys that’s ashamed or embarrassed to admit it. Or I have no shame. Whatever.
But I kept it professional.
It’s one thing if I meet someone and get a chance to talk to them out in the open, but if they’re at work, I feel an obligation not to bug them.
I always operated on the assumption that it was…not inappopriate, per se, but perhaps a lost cause to flirt with someone while they’re working. Am I incorrect in assuming this? My line of reasoning has always been that you have the other (working) person as a captive audience. They’re stuck behind that counter or register, and as such they don’t have an out, so it’s almost unfair and perhaps a bit awkward. Even if they’re friendly, they sort of have to be. They can’t not reciprocate some semblance of friendly banter. In most cases, it’s part of their job.
Well, unless it’s one of those gimmicky restaurants where the staff is intentionally rude to white yuppy customers who look at each other wide-eyed and guffaw while the wait staff insults and degrades them. Which is really, truly screwed up and only a whip and a pair of assless chaps away from a fetish.
Besides, who wants to be hit on at their job? It’s not enough that I have to be on my feet all day giving ungrateful journalists their coffee, but now I have to put up with the advances of local treasure Kevin Marshall? Gag me with a spoon!
So instead of flirting with her, I walked away and sat down to have a chat with Mr. Huber. “What was her name again?” I asked.
“Midge, I think,” he replied.
“Yeah. She was cute.”
“Shut up,” he replied curtly. “You shut your mouth and you dance for me, monkey, and you do it for free because you like it.”
“…yessir.”
Then I drank my Chunky Monkey as quickly as I could so I could get a refill and a chance to compliment her on her tattoo. It was cool. Chicks with tats rule.
REACT: What are your thoughts on flirting with people when they’re at work? Share your experiences, particularly if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of flirting while you’re at work. Or you can just post something hostile and/or write something snarky about me on your Twitter feed, you big weirdo.
RELATED STORY: Sources – Barista Not Actually Flirting With You (The Onion.com)
Dan Savage, published author and dating advice columnist whose “Savage Love” has appeared in Metroland and is syndicated nationally, has launched a new campaign to help LGBT teens get through the toughest years of their lives.
It’s dubbed the “It Gets Better” Project, and the idea is for gay adults to upload messages to a YouTube channel to encourage teens having a hard time to tough it out. Because, after all, it gets better, and suicide should never be seen as a viable alternative.
The project was inspired by the suicide of a 15-year-old Indiana teen who last week hung himself in his family’s barn after enduring bullying and torment at the hands of others in his community.
Savage and his husband uploaded the first video yesterday morning. In it, they talk of the travails of growing up gay and how it led them to where they are today:
UPDATE 9/23 9:15am: new version has been uploaded by the group with better sound quality; thanks to Dasha
I knew someone – not a close friend but someone I knew for years in High School whom I liked very much – who committed suicide after we went away to college. I remember getting the phone call right before a Siena event, and the thought that stuck with me was the same that had been with the commenter on the internet that initially inspired Savage’s idea, even though my friend’s suicide had nothing to do with sexual orientation: if only I could go back in time, or if only I knew, there must have been something I could say or do to prevent this from happening.
Unfortunately, these are the thoughts that we default to, and they can overwhelm us and prevent us from moving on with our grief. It can drive us to near madness thinking of all the things we didn’t do or say. But sometimes something constructive can come from these desperate thoughts, as it did in this case. While we mourn the loss of those who were loved by someone – whether they knew it or not – we can also do something that may, perhaps, prevent it from happening again.
To say “never again” is meaningless, because that’s a guarantee that we simply can’t make. We can, however, say “it doesn’t need to happen again.”
So if you’re out there and you’re an adult LGBT, I urge you to consider turning on your webcam and contributing to the topic.
And even if you’re not, what would you say to your teenaged self? Share in the comments.
—–
UPDATE @ 4:26pm – reader Katie directs us to a local project with the same intention called “The Trevor Project”:
Locally, The Trevor Project is a program which provides trainings and lectures about preventing teen suicide and I would suggest people who have interest in LGBT suicide prevention explore rainbowaccess.org (programs)which oversees the work locally or thetrevorproject.org for general info
For much of my adult life, I was apprehensive towards marriage.
I suppose family and environment contributed. My parents are divorced, as were most parents of the other kids I knew growing up. Some were messy, some were violent, and some were cordial. All, however, were expensive and trying and heartbreaking for the families involved.
Then you have the statistics. When I was younger, it was almost half of all marriages that ended in divorce. It eventually became more than half. And if you get married a second or third time, the chances of it ending in divorce increases even more.
While I understood the meaning, sentiment, and importance it carries to so many people due to their own religious or cultural beliefs, it seemed like a risk that may not be worth taking. Aside from the financial benefits, why would you commit yourself to another person through a ceremony and official legal title? I mean, aren’t love, words, and intent enough?
Not for my friends Mark and Naomi. Read more »
There’s a new episode of MANville up, and we tackle a lot this week.
First, we talk to Jay White to discuss his recent loss to Chris Barnett at the XFC show that aired live two weeks ago on HDNet. Jay is candid as he runs down what went right, what went wrong, and provides the unique and rarely explored (outside the industry) mindset coming off a loss.
We also tackle The Wussification of America. We discuss what’s meant by that statement as opposed to what it really means to be a man, and why our generation is falling way short. Trust me – it’s not what you think!
We also debut two new segments: one running down news items of interest, and the hilarious “Be Glad You’re You”, which must be heard to be believed.
Also: upcoming events, concerts in the area, the infamous “Double Rainbow” guy and his ties to MMA, Beer of the Week, Band of the Week and much more!
Follow the link below to listen, or check us out on the iTunes Music Store by searching for MANville.
E-mail us: MANvilleat yahoo dot com
Re: my previous blog post about how a sexy cowgirl proved that I’m a poor example of a heterosexual male.
I completely forgot this existed, but I know someone out there didn’t. But rather than let them out me as a sexy cowboy, I’m going to save some face and post the picture myself.
Howdy.
UPDATE From the mailbag, it looks like I got some company:
Read and see more of Bandit on the My Dog-Owned Life blog.
YES
Ten days ago, I received the message you see to your right informing me that OKCupid, the free online dating service I have been registered with and updating for years even though I have rarely used it for actual dating, considered me attractive. Not only did they consider me attractive, they informed me that because I was attractive, I would start seeing more attractive matches in my searches.
Hm.
So the other night, I decided to flip through a few of them. I messaged one and never got a response. You win some, you lose some.
Then I got to another girl’s profile. Things were looking promising: she seemed nice enough, was pretty, didn’t have any noticeable red flags or anything like that. Then I looked at the rest of her pictures, and in one of them she was in a sexy pose and dressed in a cowgirl outfit, complete with tipped cowboy hat and daisy duke shorts.
And I said “next.”
Now, a real manly man would look at that picture and go “yowza! I should message her and latch onto some vague mutual interest! Lemme Google Rascal Flatts so I can pretend I know the words to that song I’ve barely heard.”
In the blue corner you have me, the poor excuse for a heterosexual male known as Kevin Marshall. Instead of taking it at face value and moving forward, I roll my eyes and move on.
You can call me shallow and narrow-minded and tell me what a foolish person I am, but I cannot possibly fathom being compatible with someone who dresses up as a sexy cowgirl and posts pictures of it on a dating site. At least part of it is because the picture makes me see her not so much as a real person, but as a caricature. But, mostly, it’s attributable to my own pretentiousness and insecurity.
Plus, I don’t think I could ever dress up as a sexy cowboy and be serious about it.
Sexy Cowgirl, if you’re reading this, I’m sure you’re a great gal. And I’m right positive you’ll find the right cowboy for you, and he’ll probably be a better man than I in many ways. So good luck on that ol’ dusty trail; at least our paths got the chance to cross, all because some intern decided I was cute.
I suppose the phrase “attractive matches” is less subjective than I realized.
Me with my friends Dana & Adrienne's son, Adam
Last Friday, after seeing Chuck Miller’s work on display as part of Art Night in Schenectady, I went to Flavour Café (the official coffeehouse of Kevin Marshall: In the Present Tense) to do some writing. I always find myself unable to write at my own house, and Flavour is a place I can go where I’m largely left to my own devices and don’t get disturbed.
It’s my happy place, you guys.
Then a woman came in with her daughter and nine-month-old grand-daughter. They sat down at the table in front of me, and I swear, this kid was the second cutest baby I’ve ever seen (behind my adorable nephew Baby Joey). The baby then starts yelling and smiling at me, and we all have a laugh.
Then one of the women asks me if I write for the Times Union, and I clarify that I blog for the Times Union. The folks who deal real writing and reporting for the TU deserve more than for someone like me to co-opt their hard work and dedication for my own benefit. Nor do I want to give the impression I represent the Times Union. They give me a voice, but I don’t provide one for them. Also, they don’t pay me. Capice?
Anyway, she said she really enjoyed the post about my friend Fr. Matt, and I thanked her for the compliment. I maintain that we’re not local celebrities (Lydia Kulbida is a local celebrity; Kevin Marshall despite his schtick of being a “local sex symbol” and satirical provocateur is not), but it’s nice that I can share a story that resonates with so many people and gives support to a good man who deserves it as he enters a new phase in his life.
Meanwhile, the baby kept laughing and smiling. The entire time we were there, she smiled and gabbed and cheered and we all had a great time, all three of us laughing in endless amusement at her precocious and adorable behavior.
Then I hit a realization that freaked me out a little.
I want a baby. NOW.
2004: Me at 210+ pounds.
I debated long and hard about whether or not to write about this subject, let alone put this specific post out there for public consumption.
When I started blogging for the Times Union, I committed myself to not getting too personal. Why? Well, to be honest, most blogs that are highly personal aren’t really all that relatable to readers. Or they just end up airing too much dirty laundry and creating harsh feelings. Most often, they just end up being so boring.
In this particular case, though, I was worried because it’s still a bit of a touchy subject for me. And there is, in all honesty, a level of disclosure in this post that I haven’t granted to the vast majority of my friends and even some members of my family. To share something with somewhere in the neighborhood from 500 to 1,500 strangers (if not more) that I haven’t even shared with a dozen of the people I love is an uncomfortable and scary prospect.
So instead, I was going to write about Flabby Tabby. But then Rob Madeo beat me to the punch. So you get this deeply personal post about my issues with weight instead.
Unlike so many other personal problems, weight is unavoidable. You can’t hide or mask it from others; at least not in the way you can other personal problems. Anybody who knew me even as recently as three or four years ago would take one look at me and be able to tell that I had a problem with my weight. And I still struggle with it, even if it’s not reflected by the numbers on the scale.
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