Handy-capped
Many years ago, way before our time, a British invasion group called Herman’s Hermits had a smash hit song called, “I’m Into Something Good.” It’s still one of the greatest songs of all time. It’s basically a guy’s version of meeting a really cool chick and feeling, right away that he’s into “something good.” Fast forward forty-something years and you just met a guy who, at the very least, might be something good. You’re not exactly dancing your ass off about it, but that’s probably a good thing. You’re not sprinting in the other direction either. That’s probably a good thing too.
I’m torn… The romantic side of me wants to hear you humming that Herman’s Hermits song to yourself. The “real me,” has already begun to make funeral arrangements for this “handy” new relationship of yours. Contrary to my cynical nature, I’ve never been a big fan of “taking it slow,” or holding back. Hell, I hold back about as consistently as I eat and breathe, so I realize that’s not the smartest attitude to have, but I figure if you’re not going to be crazy about a woman from the moment you meet her, when exactly are you going to be crazy about a woman? So I admire this guy’s rapid, yet still honorable courting of you. The guy digs you. Trust me… A guy doesn’t bring a woman coffee or mix a CD (and I made more than my share of mix tapes, back in the day) if he only wants to get laid. This guy doesn’t only want to have sex with you… This guy really likes you. Unfortunately…
Forget the age difference. That’s the least of your worries. Not to contradict myself, but the guy brings you coffee and makes you mix tapes? Please! What is this, Mayberry? As I said, I appreciate the sentiment… But those gestures should be saved for, oh I don’t know, sometime after the first three weeks? Personally, I’d save that shit for marriage if I were him.
What, you don’t like a nice, bushy set of nose hairs on a man? Shame on you. Actually no, shame on him. You know how I spent five minutes of my getting-ready time this morning? I trimmed and buzzed my nose hair until it couldn’t be seen without a search party. I’m no chick, but the extraneous hair that men grow needs to be kept out of sight. There’s no two ways about it.
As for the sobriety issue, all I can say is where I come from real men drink beer – at least sometimes. Hard liquor and wine are fine, but a real man takes his girl to a ballgame every now and then, and when he does, he drinks a beer with her and root, root, roots for the home team. That’s never going to happen with this guy. And you need it to.
The final nail in this coffin is that the guy is well over 40 and he’s never been married. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. When a guy older than 40 has never been married, there’s usually a reason for it. I don’t know how true that is about women, but it’s almost a certainty in a man.
Forget what I said earlier about “not sprinting in the other direction…” It’s time to reach for the track shoes. This is what happens when you set the bar high. Be grateful.
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The Nose Knows
I think I have a boyfriend.
One would think this would leave me overjoyed, but I’m petrified. I know that I talk about it endlessly, that I should be thrilled my “If you build it, he will come” year is finally seeing success, but I can’t help it. I’m totally freaked out.
I need to slow the train down. He’s all in already, and I’m still dipping my toe in the handyman pool. Why does it always have to be all or nothing with me? This guy is definitely into me. He calls every day, brings me coffee, cooked me dinner (and started a fire in my new kitchen) and wait for it, made me a mix CD! I didn’t know people still did that! Gotta admit – that move I loved.
But why can’t it be a normal slow progression, where you have a make-out session and then you don’t see him for a week and you wonder if he still likes you and you get crazy neurotic waiting by the phone? I like that part!
Instead, I have an insta-boyfriend. So let’s weigh the pros and cons.
I must say, The Handyman is pretty hot. He’s tall enough; he’s got really pretty blue eyes, and great dimples. When he’s got two days of salt and pepper scruff he’s downright sexy. But he’s older – a lot older than I thought – and he’s got old man nose hair and a pot belly. The belly doesn’t really bother me, because who am I to judge, but the nose hair – I just can’t take it. I want to sleep with the guy just so I can cut it when he’s passed out. So pro, dreamy blue eyes, dimples and salt-and-pepper scruff. Con, old man nose hair.
Which brings up the pros and cons of… old man. He’s 16 years older than me. Pro, he’s not some dumb asshole who’s going to dump me when he finds something better. This guy is thanking his lucky stars that I like him, and he’s not afraid to show me how thankful he is. Con, he’s 16 years older than me. And so is his nose hair. And so might something else.
He’s never been married and doesn’t have kids. That’s a pro, because he has no baggage, but a con because why the hell hasn’t a guy that old been married?
And perhaps the biggest con of all, which shouldn’t matter in the least, but it does – he doesn’t drink. As in, sober. As in, he goes to three meetings (minimum) a week. Here’s the thing. I don’t have a problem with non-drinkers, or friends of Bill W, I just have a problem when they don’t want me to drink. And as much as they say it doesn’t matter, somewhere down the road it will. And last night I learned what Rule 62 is. I’m not in AA. I don’t need to know the rules. I just need you to pass me the wine so I can refill my glass.
So, where does this leave me? I have a really sweet, wonderful guy who is totally into me. nose hair and soberness aside, he’s smart, funny and thinks I’m the coolest woman he’s ever met. He brings me flowers, cooks me dinner and makes me mix CDs. And in addition to his tool belt, he’s got a black belt, which gives me a built-in bodyguard. And, he likes me.
Do I jump in? Or run away?
So you think you have a boyfriend? The nose hairs can be trimmed, the 16 years difference in age you can tolerate (maybe),
you are more than capable of cooking your own dinners, you don’t need flowers, and the mixed CD’s is so 80′s, the non drinking will go in two directions, it will either get worse or he will start drinking again and become an obnoxious alcoholic which you won’t be able to tolerate. With that being said, listen to what “he said” grab your track shoes and “run Forest run”
“He” was right, and so are you. It already went in the bad direction, so I ran!