Dating, Vikings, and Russ's Restaurant

I asked for some suggestions on what to blog about. One was dating...a particular sore spot because while I am a virile woman with hips and attitude, I'm a little frustrated. That sounds wrong. I've just had a string of really bad, awkward things happen in the dating area. But that's a separate post. So, here I wax on and off about dating, and it starts with a story.

I was in the recording studio the other day with Kevin Yon, a teddy bear kind of guy who looks like he must have some Viking DNA, and Kevin was mercilessly teasing me. He was messing with me about the usual things: my sorry history in dating, how I was drunk on Sunday night and sending regrettable emails that ensured my exes will remain exes, and my attraction to quirky, awkward places. See, I have a soft spot in my heart for Russ’s Restaurant, not only because it’s cheap, but mostly because when I’m there, I’m the hottest chick around. That is, of course, because Russ’s Restaurant is frequented namely by centenarians. (That’s not a sci-fi term, I mean people nearing their 100th birthday). And you know, legitimately, I like their burgers. (Again, I’m referring not to old people but to Russ’s Restaurant. They serve a killer olive burger.) And they serve pie. Everyone should have pie within easy reach. It’s just a philosophy of mine.

At any rate, Kevin was telling Stuart about this place and how one time I coerced Mr. Yon into going with me. “Stuart!” he bellowed into the microphone. “Stuart, I ordered a salad and it was WHITE. The vegetables were WHITE. And I don’t even want to tell you about the women there. Hair dye, man. Hair. Dye.” Kevin thinks that  obsession with this restaurant could be why I’m currently not dating. I tend to agree with him.

Russ's Where I Am the Hottest Chick Around (and the youngest by 4 decades)

Yes. I like Russ’s Restaurant, and even Lawrence Welk…but I’d only take a guy I was dating to experience the place with me once I felt comfortable enough in our relationship. You know, comfortable enough that he wouldn’t run in fear. “They all run in fear from me anyway,” I said. I was feeling sorry for myself. I have a right to, as I’ve had a pretty big string of bad dating luck. And, oh yeah, a failed marriage.

Kevin said, wisely, that I should stop wanting to date and then I’d find someone to date. But here’s the thing. If you want to go out with someone, you simply want to. It’s sort of like saying “Stop being hungry and then you’ll have something to eat.” When that’s not true at all. No. When you’re hungry, if you don’t eat you know what happens? You get all emaciated and a bloated belly and then you DIE. You. Die. What girl doesn’t want someone to think she’s pretty and take her to dinner? I’m not asking for backrubs or marriage, people, just…you know…someone who isn’t gay. Isn’t gay is pretty much my only requirement, and actually, if the person is gay and at least tells me I’m pretty then I don’t even care. I guess I’m saying I just want to leave the house on occasion. Which I’m doing.

Just ask Pop Scholars. I went out with them and had A DRINK. A big old tall gin & tonic. I only drank half, but still, that’s a start.

Lost where I was going with this. Oh, yes. Kevin and Stuart teasing me about dating. Now, seriously, I have had opportunities, it’s just I’m being picky. And I’ve decided that what I want is someone I can laugh with. Someone who is quirky and awkward and geeky and I can be ridiculous with and, yes, laugh. Because if you can’t laugh with someone, then how can you practice those illustrations in the Kama Sutra and follow it up with a big old olive burger at Russ’s.

That’s all I’m saying. And Kevin, yes, next time I’m drinking alone on a Sunday night and I decide to start writing drunken emails, you’re on the top of my list. Better beware, Viking Boy. BEWARE….