All In The Family

You certainly don’t mess around, do you? I think this new approach of yours is going to work – or blow up in your face.

First off, what sixty-four year-old man gives his age as “sixty-four and a half?” Dude. Really? You’re way too smart to do that. What did you think, that if you said sixty-four and a half instead of sixty-five, you’d sound a lot younger? That if you’re six months short of Medicare instead of carrying the card, she’ll bang your brains out? You’re a little old to be disclosing your age in an indirect manner, Pal. She’s a smart girl. She’ll decide for herself if your age makes a difference – which it will -even with a private jet added to the equation.

BTW, when a man (or woman) is described as “not batting a thousand in the looks department,” it means they are downright homely. Hell, unless someone is described as a cross between Clooney and Pitt, expect Quasimodo. This way, you won’t be disappointed. Consider it the pessimist’s creed – or the smart, single person’s.

So now what do you do? Not about the father vs. son equation. If ever there was a situation from which you should run, not walk, you have found it. I’m talking about the arena you have just entered, the arena of recruiting our friends to help us meet potential mates. We’re always told about people who are “different,” or “quirky,” or owners of “a great personality.”

I respect what you’re trying to do, but you have to keep your expectations – and your panties, in check. “Anything goes,” is one thing, but “anything goes,” is something entirely different. I trust you know this. I trust you know that when you open the door this wide, it becomes like Noah’s Ark… Two of anything may walk in the door.

Maybe I’m not the right person to comment on this. Since I was old enough to realize girls were different from boys, I’ve been adamantly opposed to recommendations. Jobs? Yes. Girls/women? No thanks. The only gender more wrong when it comes to recommending potential mates than women is men – by a country mile. “Dude, she’s so hot,” immediately becomes “How many beers did you have when you met her?” “She’s really sexy,” quickly morphs into her cleavage entering the restaurant five minutes before she does. “I did her – it was awesome?” Uh, no thanks.

Field of Dreams? Try field of land mines. 

But keep me posted, just the same.

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