I was out cycling this past weekend when I came across two preteen girls on their mountain bikes. One of them was totally frustrated with her bicycle, so the two of them swapped and they started pedaling again. In short time, the other girl became frustrated, too. Seems the chain on one of the bikes was getting caught in the derailleur.
Of course, I stopped to help.
It’s an unwritten rule of cycling that you should offer assistance to any downed cyclist. If an adult is on the side of the road, they’re probably fixing a flat. You say “need anything?” They say “no”. And you both feel you’re part of a larger group that is collectively watching out for each other. (Plus, on rare occasion, someone actually does need help. And you help them.)
If it’s a kid on the road? Forget etiquette, you simply help them.
I asked these two girls if they needed help. “YES!” they said. They were totally happy to be rescued.
Modern bikes have three rings in the front, and seven or nine in the back, giving the rider a ton of gear ratio options. The problem is, if the chain is on the left-most ring in front, and the right-most ring in back, (or vice versa, right to left), the crossover is too severe for the derailleur mechanism, and the chain gets caught.
This is a very common problem with beginning cyclists. And it’s exactly what happened to these girls.
I fiddled with the chain, changed some gears, got things fixed – then explained to them how to avoid the problem. (The simplest approach: keep the chain on the middle ring in front, and go between any rear rings you like in back, and you won’t have problems.)
Back on their way, the girls were totally happy.
At that point I noticed two hottie women in their thirties, across the street, out for a long run together. They were heading the direction I had just come from. As a single man, my immediate thought was to get one of their phone numbers. Yeah, guys think like that. At least I didn’t immediately picture spooning naked with them. (Or I won’t admit it. Ha.)
One problem – it’s pretty near impossible for a cyclist to hit on a runner. Believe me, I’ve tried. Romantic conversation starters are hard to pull off when you’re working out. For a cyclist to hit on two runners who are really going strong? Even harder.
And then it struck me – if the preteen girls hadn’t had their chain problems, I would have whizzed past the runners while I bombed downhill.
So I should be happy that my good Samaritan act gave me a chance to not only help two stranded cyclists, but gave me extra time to view the hottie women running past.
Right?
(I still feel like I should be on a hot date with one of those runners right now. Oy!)
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October 27th, 2009
Posted in
cycling |
14 comments
I’ve been on some bad blind dates in my day – women who fudged their age by 10 years, trimmed their weight by 50 pounds, turned out wanting a sexy arrangement (yeah, that kind of sexy arrangement.) But none prepared me for one I endured at Starbucks this past weekend. Trust me, I’ve never downed a moccha-caramel-skim-milk-extra-hot-double-latte* so quickly.
Background
The woman and I met online, and she refused to send a pic. Warning sign for sure, but she insisted she was attractive, just private. Fair enough. Once we swapped cell numbers, she refused to text. Now, now, don’t worry – I did call her, and we did talk. Texting vs calling can be a bone of contention, for sure. But it took a few weeks to get our schedules aligned before we could meet. During that time you’d think she’d be fine swapping a text message or two (and I wasn’t even sending dirty text messages.) It struck me as weird.
The Date
When we finally met, I was immediately put off by her expression. She was attractive enough, but she didn’t smile. She had these huge Eeyore eyes – knitted eyebrow, drooping expression, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. I asked if everything was fine, and she said yes. But she just didn’t look at all happy. Was she displeased with me? She didn’t seem to be. I had sent her my pic, and she thought I was handsome. I think she was just depressed about life. Look, I know we all go through stuff. But for meeting someone, it’s important to smile when you flirt.
Miss Eeyore wore a mini-skirt, which was oozing hot sexy confidence. But I hate to say, her panty line was showing. That wouldn’t be a problem if she’d worn boy-shorts or a thong. But her panty choice wouldn’t raise the heat in a nursing home. Yep, she wore granny panties. You know, those big ones that pretty much cover everything in site. Like a big pair of Depends. Decidedly not sexy.
Once we started talking, the conversation became very one-sided, and decidedly un-sexy and un-hot. She gave me a long-winded speech about the mortgage crises. WTF?! I have to admit, she was knowledgeable, dishing me nuggets I hadn’t even read in US News and World Report. But for a first date? Aren’t we supposed to ask each other questions, share witty banter, flirt like crazy and make me want to get into her panties? (Oh, wait – we already covered that.)
Maybe the mortgage crisis had given her that Eeyore look.
She finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’m talking too much. You talk for a while.”
Huh? What should I talk about? The war in Afghanistan? The high cost of health care? The proclivity of David Brooks for lumping divorce with drug use and crime? No! I should ask probing questions. Get to know her a bit.
“Ummmmm, how long have you lived around here?” I asked. Doh!
Okay, if I start saying shit like that, you know the moccha-caramel-skim-milk-extra-hot-double-latte isn’t going down nearly fast enough. (Hey, it was extra hot! I could only down it so fast!)
When we finished at Starbucks, she suggested we grab a bite. To which I thought, W!! T!! F!!
“I really need to go,” I said.
I think Miss Eeyore might need a Winnie the Pooh playmate in her life. It would probably make her smile.
Too bad for her, I don’t eat honey!**
Footnotes
(* My coffee drink was actually an Americano, but I changed that detail so my date wouldn’t know I was blogging about her. Shhhhhh….)
(**I actually do eat honey, but I won’t be dragged into another lecture on the mortgage crisis. Double shhhhhh….)
Flickr image by Laren Javier, some rights reserved.
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October 26th, 2009
Posted in
dating |
29 comments
I showed up at a local Laser Tag place to pick up my son from a youth group outing. He was paling around with some boys a year younger than him. No one I knew. But they were excited to see me.
They came over to me, bowing, proclaiming: We’re not worthy!
“Did you invent Google?” one of them asked.
“No,” I said. I looked at my son. What sort of bull had he been feeding them?
My son took it completely in stride. “No, not Google,” he said. “Some other computer thing on the internet. What was it again?” He looked to me for details.
I had no idea what he wanted me to say. I’d worked for a handful of Silicon Valley companies. I tossed out the name of one.
“What about those plaques in the hallway?” he asked.
“My patents?” I said.
“Yeah!” He turned to the boys. “My dad has patents.”
We’re not worthy! they bowed.
True enough, I earned six patents during my day as an engineer. I proudly display them at home in hopes of inspiring my kids. They should know that even a nit-wit like their dad can do something of note. (And they have my genes, so I’m guessing they’ll be able to nit with the wittiest.)
I never figured those plaques would lead to bragging rights in the Laser Tag parking lot.
But hey, this is Silicon Valley. And if my son wants to brag about his old man, who am I to complain? Sort of like the old days when kids would say “I bet my dad can beat the crap out of your dad!”
I just hope my son never locks horns with some kid whose dad really did invent Google.
I’m not sure my patent plaques would hold up to an ass kicking like that.
Image from Wiki Commons, some rights reserved.
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October 23rd, 2009
Posted in
family |
15 comments
There’s give and take in every relationship, whether you’re dating, married, or divorced.
When you have kids, a nice goal is to share the coparenting workload.
Tit for tat.
But what happens when the tit for tat reciprocation falls flat?
Head on over to the Hot Dads blog for a look at:
Tit for Tat Coparenting
(If that pre-programmed link doesn’t work, just go straight to Hot Dads.)
I reckon tat for tit coparenting is something else entirely.
Flickr photo by stevegatto2, some rights reserved.
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October 22nd, 2009
Posted in
divorce |
8 comments
I recently had the pleasure of hearing New York Times Op-Ed columnist David Brooks speak in Silicon Valley as part of the Celebrity Forum Speaker Series. Let me just say – I was shocked at some of the things David Brooks said about divorce.
Or rather, things he didn’t say about divorce… I’ll explain in a minute.
It’s safe to call David Brooks a thought leader and opinion shaper in the United States. Besides rendering his opinion for the New York Times since 2003, he has held editorial positions with Newsweek, The Weekly Standard, and appears regularly on The Newshour with Jim Lehrer. He’s held posts throughout the world for the Wall Street Journal. He speaks on NPR. He’s covered the Senate. He’s met with Obama.
In short, David Brooks has reach.
During his talk at Celebrity Forum, David Brooks told quite a few funny stories. Trust me, the older women knitting in the row behind me laughed just as loud as me.
But on at least three occasions (by my count), I heard Mr. Brooks lump “divorce” into a sentence that was loaded with criminal things. For instance,
“crime, drug use, divorce, …”
The old ladies with their knitting needles gasped and tsked-tsked at the evil images Mr. Brooks painted.
To which I say, WTF!? Since when is divorce a crime? Last I checked, my marital separation was perfectly legal. Not only that, it took a government act to make my divorce official.
I don’t remember David Brooks ever explaining why he lumped divorce with crime and drug use. He simply did it. On three occasions! (by my count). I don’t get it.
Did he want people to associate divorce with crime? (A Rush Limbaugh tactic, if ever there was one.)
I have news for Mr. Brooks – there are a lot of divorced people in the United States. Around half of all first marriages end in divorce. Are you suggesting we lock these people up? Or pass laws to force them to stay married? Some couples need to separate, for a variety of reasons – abuse, infidelity, irreconcilable differences.
I’m not saying divorce is something married couples should aspire to. I’m simply accepting that divorce sometimes happens. Hell, it happened to me. We learn, grow, evolve. Life goes on.
David Brooks went on to discuss the ability of men to communicate emotions. Meaning Mr. Brooks projected his own inability onto every man. (To which I once again say, WTF!?)
It went something like this (I’m paraphrasing, not quoting):
Researchers scanned the brains of men while those men watched a horror film, then scanned those same brains when the men were asked to communicate their emotions. And you know what? The brain scans from the two events were exactly the same!
The knitting crowd behind me chuckled and clucked approval.
Once again, I have news for Mr. Brooks. There are a lot of men in the world who can communicate emotionally. I know that not all men are comfortable doing this, but some clearly are. It’s not necessarily a generational thing. I happen to be around David Brooks’ same age, and I have no problem speaking or writing what I feel.
Why does Mr. Brooks feel all men are emotional klutzes? I’m guessing it’s from everything he’s been through in his life.
If you put the two together – a divorced single dad raising his kids solo, forced to communicate emotionally (since there is no woman around) – you might end up like Clive Owen’s character in The Boys Are Back – a bumbling oaf who doesn’t know how to deal, and ends up eliminating all parenting and household rules. (I suspect Mr. Brooks would be in this category, along with the husbands of all those clucking and knitting ladies in the row behind me.)
Or take another divorced single dad who is raising his kids alone, and you might end up with someone more evolved – a man who can communicate emotionally. Someone who has heartfelt talks with his teen daughter about sex and dating, and shares emotionally tender moments with his son.
In other words, some divorced parents are more evolved than married wonks like David Brooks.
I can hear those knitting women gasp in shock. Sorry, ladies, but some men – perhaps a minority, but they do exist – some men communicate emotionally, without problem.
David Brooks might do well as a thought leader and opinion shaper to promote more positive images of divorce and of men when he speaks. What does society gain by hammering home the thought of divorced people as criminals, and men as emotionally bumbling fools?
Then again, what do I know? I’m just a divorced man.
Now then, can the prison guard please bring me my crack pipe? I’m done with this post.
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October 21st, 2009
Posted in
divorce |
21 comments
My son came down with a fever this past weekend. Stuffy nose, tired, achy. He had a mixture of cold and flu symptoms. No fun for him, at all.
When Monday hit, he was still sick. No problem, I work from home. He could recuperate all day under my care.
Except for one thing – I was sick, too.
After I got my teen daughter off to school, I went back to bed and slept. My son and I both woke up at 11am. I had chills, a massive headache, sore throat. And I was still tired.
But my son needed a few things…
As a single parent, there was nothing for me to do but get up and take care of him. I went to the store and got the stuff he needed. While I was at it, I swung by the school to pick up work he had missed.
Of course, there was no one around to take care of me. But that’s part and parcel for parenting solo.
By 3pm, my son’s fever broke. I was worn out. Turns out he was tired, too, and we both managed to nap away the rest of the afternoon.
When my daughter got back from after-school sports practice, I had enough energy to put together dinner. (I had cooked all weekend – maybe my intuition told me to do that? – so all I had to do for dinner was heat a few things up.) And take my son’s temperature again (for the fifth time! Sheesh)
When a single parent gets sick, there’s often no one to take care of them. When their kids get sick at the same time, you just have to suck it up and deal.
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October 20th, 2009
Posted in
single parents |
18 comments
I recently saw The Boys are Back, a movie starring Clive Owen (who gave an outstanding performance), about a single dad who gets in way over his head trying to raise two boys after his wife suddenly passes away.
The film is at times sweet and sentimental, and other times wild and overreaching. It gives a unique view of how one man who knows nothing about parenting copes with being forced into a full-time parenting role.
Joe Warr (played by Clive Owen), the single dad character in this story, hits all the stereotypes for a single dad trying to run a household solo:
- His house isn’t just a mess, it’s a disaster, with week-old pizza boxes laying out on the counter, dirty dishes, a chicken defrosting in the bath tub. (The secret to single parent success? Let things slide!)
- His parenting style is “free-range” – he basically says YES to any request his son makes. (Did David Lee Roth grow up in a home like this?)
- He drinks way too much (we’re talking brown liquor here)
- Confronted by normal parenting problems, Joe Warr hasn’t a clue what to do
To which I thought – WTF?! Did the movie industry really need to create yet another cliché depiction of a single dad as bumbling oaf? Some single dads actually know how to cook, communicate with kids, clean house, and be an active part in their childrens’ lives. Hell, a lot of married dads do, too.
As a divorced single dad myself, who has been raising kids half-time and running a household solo for ten years, I had a hard time relating to Joe’s utter lack of competence.
But then I remembered, this movie was based on a true story, having sprung from Simon Carr’s memoir of the same name. I know there are men in the world who are clueless when it comes to cleaning house and caring for kids, and Joe Warr happened to be one of them.
More than that, Joe Warr wasn’t just a single dad. His history would shell shock anyone:
- Deadbeat dad – he left his first wife and child and moved halfway around the globe for some other woman he knocked up
- Widower – he’s forced to deal with the sudden death of his second wife
- Full-time single parent – he goes from workaholic sports writer, somewhat absentee father, and casual observer around the house, to full-time dad
With all that in his life, it’s no wonder he sort of let things go. He did the best he could.
The best part of the movie for me is when Joe’s first son, who Joe left behind when he chased after his second wife, comes to live with Joe and Joe’s second son. Joe is forced to deal with why he became a deadbeat dad. He’s forced to see how his choices affected his son, who is dealing with his mom’s boyfriend, and wrestling with the question of why Joe left him. There was much here I could relate to. (I’m not a deadbeat dad, but my ex is dating, and my son and I both have both been forced to deal with aspects of that.)
Overall, I enjoyed the movie, with the reservation that it promotes single dad clichés. For that reason, I can’t call this movie “vital” like another reviewer did. But I understand not all single dads can be like the characters in Pursuit of Happyness and Kramer vs. Kramer. Seeing all sides of a situation adds depth. In the end, it balances out.
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October 19th, 2009
Posted in
single dads |
15 comments
