Ohayo Gozaimasu

Greetings from Osaka.

The last week has been both amazing and hectic.

Arrived in Tokyo on Tuesday afternoon, well rested and ready to go. Man I love business class. They put me up in the Hyatt in Shinjuku. Nice place. Wandered around the neighborhood on Tuesday night after checking in. Turns out east of the train station is, um, the wrong side of the tracks as it were. While I was walking around an elderly well dressed japanese man asked me in impecable english if I was interested in "a nice young japanese girl." When I declined he looked confused - "perhaps a boy?" Again I politely declined. He asked me what I was looking for - I'm pretty sure that, for a price, he would have acquired it for me. I told him that I may have just wandered into the wrong part of town.

Getting up on Wednesday morning, I had a beautiful view of Mt Fuji from my room. Turns out that is a really rare occurrence - Mt. Fuji is visible from Tokyo about 15 days a year. It was quite a treat.

After meetings on Wednesday, the folks I was with invited me out to dinner. Those folks can really drink. First, we went out for sake. We hit a place that had about 150 different sakes. I had never had so many different kinds before. Toward the end things started to get fuzzy, but I do recall some really good and distinct sakes. Then we went to a place for sushi. It was amazing. You can't get sushi like this in America. I really like the tuna, blue fin - although I eat this rarely as it is being fished into extinction - yellow fin, albacore (yes, chicken of the sea - but damn tasty as sushi). However, I cannot stomach the mollusks - squid, octopus, cuttlefish, uni (sea urchin). Once my hosts uncovered this squeamishness they took great delight in trying to get me to eat raw dead squishy things. I did not embarrass myself. Sushi was consumed with many large (about 1 liter) glasses of Asahi beer. After all this, we went to a japanese pub - for yet more drinking. Very cool old japan decor. Lots more beer.

I got back to the hotel near midnight and crashed - hoping I could get up in the morning for yet more work.

Thursday evening I took the Shinkansen for Osaka. Friday was busy with work, but Saturday I had to myself. I visited Osaka-jo - the medieval japanese castle. I was quite disappointed to discover that it was a reconstruction - completed in 1997 and is made of concrete and has elevators and air conditioning. From the outside it looks really amazing and the grounds were wonderful.

I'm off to china.

Insecurity and Drunkeness

Hello loyal readers - yes both of you. Sorry I've not posted for a while. Life has been hectic. Let me catch you up on the high points.

Next week: Japan and China. Yes, Kristen wrangled me a trip to the far east for a promotional marketing tour for our latest release. Pete's headed for Europe, the CEO to NY, Kristen's taking Silicon Valley and Boston. We are going to spread the word about all the great things we've been doing at work. I leave on Monday for Japan. Two days in Tokyo, one in Osaka. Then on to Shang Hai and some other places I can't pronounce. Should be fun.

On Saturday night Heidi and I dined at MacArthur Park in Palo Alto, a venerable steakhouse. Not my favorite place, but Heidi likes it. Despite a fall chill in the air we took the new ride and left the top down. Valets were suitably impressed and left it right by the door, to create an ambiance of elegance - well that's what Heidi said.

Dinner was good, accompanied by a great bottle of wine. After dinner we took a stroll through downtown Palo Alto and then went back to her place. We sat outside of her cottage by the pool and had some more wine. If she was not going to have me over for the night I would sleep in my car around the corner. I had had too much to be driving.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, after a lull in the conversation - I knew I needed to keep things moving, oh well.

"I've grown rather fond of you. Haven't you noticed."

She scoffed mildly. "Yeah, the secretaries at work are jealous. You kind overdid it with the flowers."

"The two dozen roses were a mistake - I only ordered one."

"Rich, but why me?"

"Why not you? You have an amazing accent that makes me want to just eat you up. You're beautiful and witty and ..."

"So why do I feel so insecure?" she interrupted.

Oh, crap. How do I answer this one? Because you know I'm in love with Lynn. "Because you're silly." Let's hope some wine and that answer do the job.

"Seriously. You have it all. The job, the car, international travel..." I told her about the trip. She sighed. "You're gorgeous and you're hung like a north wood's bear." OK, that cognacs gone to her head. I'm not even sure if bears have big penises - was that an insult or a compliment? "You know that Greg - he respects you. I can tell." Greg is a guy I've known for a while - before he got famous - but if you read Forbes or Wired you've head of him. He is an internet gazzillionare. Heidi and I had dinner with him a few weeks back. "My dad respects you. He has 4000 people working for him. And he respects only about 10 of them. They all make over a million a year." I thought about asking if he had any openings... "My dad has never respected any of my boyfriends." Ah. Now I get it.

I looked her in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you for Lynn. I promise. Guys do a lot of stupid things for girls. But I'm not going to do that. I've been very honest and open with you. I've never given you a reason not to trust me. Please trust me."

She kissed me. Yes, she was drunk, more that I was. She took me into her cottage and then into her bed. "Come here you big bear" she said as she pulled me into her bedroom.

At 3 in the morning, I remembered. I had made arrangements with paddle girl to go paddling on Sunday morning at 5:30. I wanted to text her - "Got lucky Saturday night, go without me - hung over." I never got her number. I could just stand her up. It's not like it's a serious commitment or anything - this is just paddling. But I wanted to go.

I dragged my butt out of bed a bit before 4 (to Heidi's sleepy protests, "Aren't you going to make me breakfast" she whined, "You're going paddling? You're crazy") headed home, took a shower, loaded up the truck with all my paddling gear and headed down to Santa Cruz.

I got there just at about 5:30. Paddle girl was doing her stretching exercises on the dock. I dragged my boat down. "Morning."

She looked up at me. "You look tired."

"I was out late last night."

"Yeah?" She was expecting details. It was hard not to think of her as one of the guys - and this as a locker room.

"I got lucky."

"I thought you were getting over your runaway bride? Now you're sleeping around?"

I was about to say it's complicated. "I'm kinda hung over, too."

"We'll take it easy." She told me. Of course, her taking it easy isn't that easy. "Was she cute?" She was prying for details, like one of the guys.

"Big boobs." The conversation struck me as absurd.

We paddled about 5 miles in an hour and 10, by my watch. When we got back to the harbor, I hurled up my breakfast and coffee - well never mind the details. I did manage to get everything in the water - so there was nothing to clean up.

"Sorry" paddle girl said. "I didn't mean to make you do that."

"Don't worry" I said and rinsed my mouth. "Hell of a night."

We cleaned up the boats and loaded them on the cars. As she was getting into her car she called me over. "Hey - my paddling team - we're having a party on Friday at ---- beach. Bon fire, barbecue, beer. Wanna come?"

"You can't have beer."

"No not me, you know, parents, coaches, old folks from the paddle club. You'll fit right in."

Uh, thanks, yeah, me and the old folks can compare walkers and depends. "I'm not sure. Can I call you?" She gave me her number. "I wanted to call you this morning - and cancel."

"So you could stay in bed with big boobs?"

"Yes, actually."

"The workout was good for you. Sweat out the hangover, that's what I do. See ya." She drove off. 17 years old and she has hangovers??

Martinis

“I can’t lose her. I just can’t.” I was sharing a martini with Kristen after work. I was referring to my relationship with Heidi, which seems to be on its last legs.

“Why not, you don’t seem like you’re that into her.”

“I’m not” I sighed, “but if I don’t have her, there’s no reason for me not to go back to Lynn. And I really don’t want to go back to Lynn. But damn it, I’m still in love with her.”

I took a long sip of my martini and signaled the barkeep for another.

“Oh, and I’ve got a new paddle buddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. 17 year old girl from Santa Cruz.”

“Oh Rich.” Kristen gave a good belly laugh. “Keep yourself out of jail.”

“She’s my paddle buddy – not my f-buddy”

“I know, but Rich…” and she laughed and shook her head. Yeah I know, I’m a guy and she’s a 17 year old girl.

“She’s a great paddler – better than I am. You know I could paddle rings around unmitigated beast. But I can barely keep up with this girl.”

“Welcome to getting old, Rich.”

We commiserated over bad relationships for a while and finished our martinis. As we were leaving, Kristen said “So you can stay away from Lynn for Heidi – someone you’re not that into.”

“Yeah” I replied.

“You really ought to be able to stay away from Lynn for you.”

Messy

“Man, I made a mess of things.” I was sharing a Grey Goose Martini with Kristen. We were at her favorite watering hole in San Jose. We had just dropped off the kayak that unmitigated beast had left behind at the offices of an organization that holds an annual auction to raise money for Doctors without borders. It is a charity medical group that sends doctors to trouble spots around the world. Kristen decided that this would be the best use of the boat. She had offered it to me, but I declined as it was too generous a gift. As we dropped it off I thought that I might have overreacted (damn, that was a nice boat). It is clear that Kristen has (and had) no designs on me. She is focused on her career and working out. She is not going after guys for a while. She was unceremoniously dumped by her lover, and she is taking time to recover. She has encouraged me to do the same – but I am dumb. So I am out dating again – and this is what I had made a mess of.

I was regaling her with the comically bad date that I recently had with Heidi. “So I go in the house to pick up the picnic basket. She follows me in. I notice that the message light on the phone is on – so I hit the button to see who called. It’s Sarah.”

“Oh no, what does she say.”

“Well, she just moved up to Seattle. I had sent her a house warming gift and she was calling to say thank you. So she says ‘Thanks for the gift, I really love it, blah blah blah, can’t wait to see you again.’ In this really syrupy sweet voice – you know, very girlfriend like. I just could have died. I mean, I wasn't expecting anything like that.”

“What did Heidi do?”

“First the silent treatment. Then the inquisition. Oh, wait, it gets better. So I didn’t notice it, but there was a bra on the sofa. I guess Amanda and Jason were playing on the sofa the night before and they left a trail of underwear to the bedroom. Anyway, Heidi saw it.”

“No.” Kristen held her hand over her mouth and giggled slightly.

“And,” I take a sip of my martini.

“There’s more? Aaaah.” She laughed even harder.

“Oh yes, she sees Amanda’s mail on the counter, so she thinks I’m living with a woman. Women’s underwear all over the house – old girlfriends calling up.”

Kristen enjoyed a good belly laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry to laugh. Is she still talking to you?”

“Well, I hope so. It was a tense lunch.” We both laughed. “I can’t believe so many things went wrong all at the same time.”

“Well, on the plus side, it sounds like she’s mad. That probably means she cares. You’re lucky. If she didn’t care she wouldn’t be mad, she’d just leave.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But you know, I don’t feel good about it. The fact that she cares, I mean. I don’t know why.”

“You’re still in love. And I’m not sure with whom. Rich, seriously, you shouldn’t get involved with her. This is going to be bad. Have you slept with her yet?” Kristen asked.

For a second, I though, it was none of her business – but I pressed on anyway. “No, I haven't even made it to first base yet. I made a clumsy grab at her butt once, which she rebuffed. Haven’t made a move since - and neither has she.”

“You’re so romantic.”

“Hey, it was a sincere, heartfelt fondle of her posterior. Actually more of a caress than a fondle. It was very tasteful and loving.”

“I’m sure it was…” she paused for comic effect “…just some grab-ass.” We both laughed. Kristen can be as raunchy as any of the guy drinking buddies I’ve had. “Rich, you need some time to sort things out. You’re going to hurt her, and then you’re going to feel like shit. I’m telling you, ease yourself out of it now.”

“Shit, you’re probably right.” I drained the remainder of my martini.

Happy 4th

“So you’re the young man who has been seeing so much of my daughter” said the tall man with the heavy Swedish accent. I was at a 4^th of July party held by Heidi’s parents. I was invited at the last minute, and couldn’t think of an excuse not to go. I was thinking of going down to Santa Cruz and paddling for the day, and hanging out. Frankly, I wanted to be alone. In addition to wanting to be alone, I really didn’t want to “meet the parents”. We’re way too soon in the relationship for that – and we probably won’t get to that point.

Anyway, it turns out that the party was a combined “Mid-summer” party – a traditional Swedish holiday, and a 4^th of July party. The mid-summer party is a celebration of the solstice – that actually do that in Sweden. I had no idea. Heidi’s father, a full blooded Swede, invited a large crowd to his house to celebrate the 4^th in traditional Swedish style – complete with smoked reindeer meat and lingon berry sauce – and this liquor called aquavit, literally translated from Swedish it means “water of life” – it is industrial strength alcohol. It was quite a party, a big tent in the back yard, caterers serving up lots of food and beverages.

Heidi’s father is an imposing man, about 6’5’’ with white hair flecked with a few black strands. He is head of a chemical company in Menlo Park which has something to do with semiconductor manufacturing.

“Yes, sir.” I responded to what I assumed was a question rather than a statement

“So, what are your intentions for her?”

Yikes, how does one answer a question like that – well, I was hoping for some sloppy drunken sex, but haven’t been able to get her liquored up enough yet - “I assure you, sir, nothing but honorable.” I replied, hoping that this is what he was expecting. He smiled at this – he was enjoying it. It was clear that he was a man of power, and was used to having folks cower in his presence. I wouldn’t disappoint him.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

I told him about my job at the internet start-up that I work at.

“Oh, is that ------‘s company?” He named the CEO.

“Yes, sir.”

“I was involved in arranging some financing for him. How long have you worked there?”

“Almost 4 months, sir.”

“You got in early. I’m impressed.’ His expression echoed this. “You must be very good at what you do. He only hires the best.”

He asked about my stock options plan, and started to ask some detailed business questions. I kept my answers vague – I wasn’t sure if he was really associated with the company or not, or if he was testing me to see if I would talk about the company plans to outsiders. He asked me about the working hours.

“It’s been getting very busy lately.” I answered. “The hours are pretty long.”

“I expect he works his people pretty hard. Well, don’t you neglect my Heidi.”

“Of course not, sir.”

He smiled, shook my hand and moved on.

Heidi was right behind me with a glass of white wine. “I think I passed.” I said. I felt some sweat trickle down my back.

“Oh, he’s more bark than bite. Don’t worry about him.”

That was easy for her to say.

Heidi and I mingled a bit, and then sat at our usual table near her cottage and had dinner.

As the party started to wind down, Heidi’s father came over and joined us with a bottle of Swedish Vodka that he was quite proud of and two shot glasses. “Rich, have you ever had good Swedish Vodka? Many people think of Finland and Russia when they think of Vodkas – but the best are made in Sweden.” He said with obvious national pride. He poured us both generous shots and toasted me with something in Swedish. I have been drinking Grey Goose recently – a French Vodka – this was definitely on par with that, perhaps smoother. This stuff could be dangerous.

He talked for quite a while about Sweden, and his childhood, building a company. While pouring me additional shots pretty regularly.. After the 4^th I wondered what the sleeping arrangements for the evening would be. I had my spare clothes in the truck, and I am sure they have spare bedrooms – but this would just be weird.

He stood up abruptly, and said “Well, young man, I suspect you’ve got things to do tomorrow. We don’t want to keep you.” I was summarily dismissed. He thought for a moment . “You’re probably not good to drive. Wait here for a minute.” He took a few steps away and made a call on his cell. He turned back to me. “My driver will take you home. It was a pleasure to meet you. Say hello to [the CEO] for me when you see him.”

“Yes, thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to meet you, too, sir. Thanks for everything, sir.”

I was waiting for him to say "Stop calling me sir", but he didn't.

A man in a tuxedo who looked like one of the waiters approached us, clearly, the driver, and led me away.’

I gave Heidi a peck on the cheek goodnight, and shook her father’s hand again. He said “good night” followed by something in Swedish.

I was escorted to the back seat of a large late model Volvo, actually quite nice – so this is how the other half gets drunk.

Sleepover

I woke up with a pounding headache. I rolled onto my back and opened my eyes – the room was bright. Too bright. Oh, man I’m getting too old to be drinking like this. I closed my eyes again. But what room was it? It didn’t look familiar at all. For the first time since college I woke up with no idea where I was. I tried to concentrate. I rubbed my forehead. Where the hell was I and what did I do to get here? Then it came to me – I was at Kristen’s house.

It all started the night before.

Against the collective wisdom of the blogosphere, my buddy Maurizio, and a little voice in the back of my head I made dinner for my friend Kristen. Kristen had recently been dumped by lover of about 5 years. I thought I would try to cheer her up. Having recently been through a nasty break up myself, I had a lot of empathy for her. Slightly complicating things is the fact that Kristen is the VP of marketing at the internet company that I recently joined – and, OK, she has flirted with me a couple of times. Making things more interesting is the fact that she is only a couple of years older than me, really attractive, and quite rich. She has quite a strong personality, though. Her former lover was a kept man, which I find intriguing.

If you read through some of the comments on earlier posts, the collective wisdom was that I should not do this. I decided to do it anyway, for two reasons. First Kristen has become my friend over the past couple of months since I joined the new company. I know how bad a breakup can be and I’m pretty sure that she really was in love with Paul – even though she hasn’t shown any sadness over the breakup, only anger. I’m not sure how much of that is a brave front and how much is real. So, reason number one, I really did want to help my friend who has asked for my help.

The second reason is that I thought that it was pretty unlikely that anything would happen. OK, my judgment isn’t all that great – I’ve demonstrated that. But there is no real reason that Kristen would try to jump my bones. With very few exceptions, in my life I’ve had to work hard at courting and charming and wooing women before anything interesting happens. Rarely have I fallen into bed with a woman where I did not put a lot of effort in. And Kristen was not overtly trying to court me.

I went back to read over what I had written about Kristen. I though that I might have portrayed her as a wanton sex goddess or a dangerous man eater of sorts. But I think I have done a fair job of portraying her.

I’ll add a few comments to make sure that I’m being fair and balanced. She is very smart. She has a PhD in computer science from one of the top engineering schools in the U.S. And she has the ability to take that book knowledge and apply it to real world problems where solutions can be created – something that escapes you average PhD nerd. In meetings it is clear that she has a tremendous grasp of both technology and business. She is attractive, but she wears her clothes and her hair with a style that I can best describe as hard edged. Angular and masculine, but it suits her. She is very self confident, but I suspect that most people that achieve the success that she has probably are. She is generally quite fair and reasonable – aside from the week before last. That apparent anomaly was due to the fact that she was unceremoniously dumped by her lover, so I’m going to cut her some slack on that one. All of us who have been hurt by cruel partners have probably been a bit cranky immediately after the act. She always tries to stand out in the crowd. Her car is as bright red as Mercedes makes, her clothes are always attention getting. She shuns conventionality – to gain further attention, perhaps. She would be more likely to have an iguana for a pet than a cat (OK, she told me that one). She would introduce her live-in boyfriend as “her lover”. He was, indeed, a kept man. The only thing that I find odd about the arrangement is that she did not seem to respect him, or at least did not when I saw them together – which was toward the end of their relationship.

How do I feel about her? Hmmm, well I do have a bit of a crush on her. But this should be taken with a grain of salt. Any regular reader of the blog should know by now that I am easily smitten. A glance across a crowded room is all it may take. But I don’t often take it seriously, and usually get over it quickly, if there is not a long term relationship involved. I respect her – both professionally and personally – mostly for her intelligence. I consider her to be a good friend even though we have only known each other for a short period of time. We have flirted with each other a couple of times, but in a harmless sort of way.

Anyway, I’m rambling (I’ll probably edit this out). The second reason that I went to make her dinner is that I really didn’t think that anything would happen. I have had dinner and drinks with lots of folks and have not ended up in bed with them. If that was all it took for me to get the girl I’d be doing a lot more dining and drinking. In the movies, guys can do that (e.g. “handsome Rob” in the movie “The Italian Job”, or James Bond in anything) – meet a girl and end up in bed with her. But, sorry folks, this is real life. And in real life – despite what guys brag about in bars – very few of us have that raw sex appeal that lets us get the girl that easily. In all my life I have only known one guy who could do that – and that is Maurizio. Girls will actually walk up to him and give him their phone number. It even happened last week when we were drinking beer at the Tied House. In a cruel twist of fate, this incredible specimen of a man - is gay.

Anyway, on to the events of the evening. I went and got the fixings for dinner and a good chardonnay the night before. These I took with me to work and stored them in the fridge. Kristen stopped by my cube around 7:30 and suggested that we head out.

In my defense I did ask Pete and Teri to join us. I first asked Kristen of this would be OK. She kinda laughed at me and told me to go ahead and try. It turns out (I learned this later) that Pete and Teri had dated some years ago. It ended badly – although they seem friendly enough now. In fact, they seem to almost have a thing for each other. So I thought the pair of them joining us for dinner would be a good thing. Turns out that Pete had a convertible corvette, an older model that he had restored and souped up with a 500 horsepower engine or something ridiculous like that. When he was dating Teri, he let her drive it. She was at a stop sign – the first stop sign she came to. She let out the clutch a little too fast, she was used to underpowered Toyotas and wasn’t very adept at handling a clutch. This slip caused both back tires to spin violently out of control. The car to slid sideways as it went through the intersection, accelerating quickly. Ultimately, the car wrapped itself around a telephone pole across the street. The fiberglass body was shattered and the frame was bent beyond repair.

No one was hurt.

It took many years for Pete to forgive Teri.

Kristen feels that it was just plain wrong for Pete to breakup with Teri over the accidental destruction of a hunk of fiberglass and steel. This was before Pete was really wealthy, and an automobile was an irrelevant expense to him. But I’m with Kristen on this one.

So no one would be joining us. We would be alone, with alcohol and without adult supervision. We took Kristen’s car. She climbed in the passenger side and asked me to drive. Once again fumbling for keys, I realized that the card was in her purse and we could just drive away.

Once we got to her house Kristen took a bottle from the fridge and handed it to me. “You asked for champagne.” I uncorked it and poured it into two flutes. She raised her glass and said “here’s to legendary abs.”

I know I was blushing (I have a bad habit of doing this at inopportune times) “Excuse me?” I asked (for those confused, see my “That hurts” post). How could she know? Maybe she did see me with my shirt off when I was cleaning up the kayaks in her yard. But the abs weren’t that well defined then, I didn’t think.

“Legendary abs. I finally have the motivation that I need to get legendary abs. I’ve been meaning to spend the time at the gym to work on my abs – but with balancing work and a social life I never had the time. I’m just angry enough to throw myself into it. You want to be my gym partner? We could get them together.”

OK, at this point, if I was drunk I probably would have pulled up my shirt and showed her. But discretion prevailed. “Uh, you know, I’ve got my own sport. It works pretty well for me.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re already skinny enough.”

We moved out to the living room, where I made a fire in the fireplace and she put on some music. “What do you like?” she asked referring to music.

“Some jazz would be great”

“Oh, shit” she said. Well, OK, if you want something else, I thought to myself. “More crap from unmitigated beast. These are his CDs.” She grabbed them and ran out of the room. I followed her to the garage. The cars were parked outside. She threw the CDs into the middle of a large pile in the middle of the garage. “This” she pointed at the pile, “This is all of his shit. Can you believe this?” There were clothes, books, furniture, papers, it was a big pile. “How could he do this? How could he do this?” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Oh, shit, Rich.” She turned to me and started to cry. She hugged me and cried on my shoulder. I patted her back.

After a couple of minutes she backed away. “I’m sorry, Rich. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.” She wiped her eyes with her hands. “Oh god, I’m a mess.”

“Don’t be sorry. That’s the first time I saw you sad about this.”

“Oh, Rich.” She sniffed. “It just never came out before.” She started to cry again. “I’ve been keeping it inside. I just couldn’t…” and on came the water works. I actually started to feel better as we walked back to the living room. This was definitely not sexy, and the fact that she was human and sad about losing him made me feel better. Her anger was sort of scary.

After a good cry she went to wash her face. She came back composed. “I need a scotch. Do you want one?”

“Sure. Shall we start on dinner?”

“Yes.” We moved into the kitchen. I proceeded to assemble some flour and salt and pepper on a plate. I heated up a skillet with olive oil and butter. Unmitigated beast did have some good cookware. I did bring my own meat pounder, not sure if she had one. I put a chicken breast on the counter between two sheets of wax paper.

“OK, you need to pound this down to about 3/8 of an inch thick – thinner if you want.” She took the mallet and gave it a little girlie smack. “No” I told her “You need to hit it hard.” She pounded a bit harder. “Come on, put your back into it.”

She started to dent it. “It’s something you hate.” She pounded hard. And again. And even harder. She started to laugh. Tears were working at the corners of her eyes. She pounded a hole in the middle of the chicken breast.

She laughed at it. “I ruined it.”

“No, it’s fine – just even it out a bit.” She pounded out the rest of the chicken to a ¼ inch with real ferocity.

She laughed “That felt good.”

“I’ve got 3 more.”

She pounded them all. “You’re right.” She said when she was done, “That is better than a month of therapy.”

I cooked the chicken and was about to deglaze the pan. “Here’s where we need the champagne.” I took the bottle and poured about ¾ of a cup into the pan. It was Moet and Chandon – from France. A bit more extravagant than I am used to for a cooking wine. It boiled and steamed spectacularly. It made a great sauce.

When we sat down to eat it. She commented “This almost seems cannibalistic.” She had beaten the crap out of her unmitigated beast.

“Think of it as devouring your problems.”

“I’m sure that on some parts of New Guinea they really do that.”

The chicken was wonderful and more tender than I think I have ever had.

After we cleaned up the kitchen, we sat in the living room with the bottle of wine that I had brought. “Would you take him back?” I asked.

“Not in a million years. Would you take her back??”

“In a New York minute.” I don’t even know what that means, but it seemed like a good thing to say. It seemed the opposite of ‘not in a million years’.

“You hate him, don’t you?”

“Yup. It’s not the opposite of love, you know. I’ll be over him when I am indifferent. You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I don’t get it. She hurt you so badly. I would want to kill someone who did that to me.”

“I want to kill Tim. How can I turn off my love for her?”

“How can you love someone like that? Feel passionate yes. That doesn’t go away. Damn that you can’t make that go away. But love? That’s reserved for people who are good to us.”

“I just love her. I remember all the wonderful things we did together. I remember her friendship. There was so much that was good.”

“And she pissed all over it, all of that. What happened to you? I mean, you’re a smart guy. But this reaction of yours is unnatural.”

“What do you mean ‘unnatural’?”

“Rich, when you are hurt that’s nature’s way of showing you something’s wrong. Pain is how we learn what not to do. You put your hand on a hot stove – it hurts. So you don’t do it again. I mean if you have a learning disability, you do it again. But even the thickest person learns. You want to put your hand right back on that stove? If you don’t learn you’re going to put your hand on that stove over and over again. And you’re going to get burned over and over again. Until you don’t have a hand left.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. You’re passionate about her. Great, be passionate. But let your feelings go. I bottle up my sadness – but you stomach your anger.”

“My anger is at Tim. And it’s out there.”

“No, you know it was her that hurt you. You’re in denial. You’ll never get past it until you acknowledge it. No matter how many chickens you pulverize. Rich, she’s the one who gave you all this pain. Get pissed.” She shook her head.

“Why do you hide your sadness?”

“It’s a man’s world.” She signed. “I can’t compete and show my weakness. I pretend to be strong. After a while, it’s not a pretense anymore. I don’t really like it – but I have to.”

“You’ve achieved more than most people ever will. Why keep competing? Why not just enjoy what you’ve earned?”

“I am enjoying it. And, frankly, it’s the competition that’s the fun part. Winning is the enjoyable part. The money is nice – but it really doesn’t make that much of a difference.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so competitive.” I didn’t mean that as an insult, it was just an observation. I think I may have offended her.

“I don’t think I’ve met anyone so non-competitive.”

“Um, unmitigated beast wasn’t really a driven man.”

“Yes he was, he was passionate. Not about technology, or business. But he loved his art. He wasn’t very good at it. He couldn’t pay the bills. But he needed to win. His failures ate him up. Let’s not talk about that beast. You, you’re laid back. Agreeable almost to the point of being annoying. Pleasant to the point of being vacuous. The only thing you have shown any passion for is a girl who put you through hell. God, Rich. I just want to shake you and wake you up.” She signed. I think I was being insulted and ridiculed.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Rich, I’m not trying to insult you. You have so much potential. You’re smart, you’re witty, you can be charming, and you can get a room full of egos to agree and work together. I’ve seen it. You’re amazing. Middle child? Am I right?”

“Yup. You’re good.”

She laughed. “Rich, what do you want out of life? You can get it, you know. You just need to work for it.” She emptied her glass. “Oh, shit – you’re not here for a motivational speech. We’re here to bitch about our lovers. Wine or Cognac?”

“Oh, how about a nice cognac, please?”

“There you go again, being pleasant.” She said in a singsong voice as she went to the kitchen to get a bottle of cognac.

We sat and drank more. I was amazed at how different our responses were, to essentially the same situation. We both had lovers that ran off with someone else in a rather rude fashion. She blamed her lover, while I blamed the person my lover ran off with. Hmmm, is it a guy/girl thing? Am I wrong to blame Tim, is she right to blame Paul? I don’t know. If you have been wronged – did you blame your lover, the interloper, or both? Why?

After that things start to get fuzzy. I definitely had too much to drink. We killed two bottles of wine, some scotch and some cognac.

Which brings me to the morning. I sat up and looked around. My head swam. I was in Kristen’s guest bedroom. I was wearing the same boxers I had on last night. I started to remember the events of the late evening. Nothing happened. Nothing was offered, nothing was asked. The guest room was already made up for me before I arrived. Her plan all along was to keep me at a distance.

I made my way to the bathroom. I had already retrieved my spare clothes and bathroom things from her car. I had moved them from my truck before we left the office. I showered and brushed my teeth and changed into fresh clothes. I took 3 aspirin to calm my pounding head.

I wandered out to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. I read the morning paper for a while while I waited for Kristen to wake up. I perused through the fridge to see what there was for breakfast. It was about 11 when Kristen came out wearing her bathrobe. “oooh” she moaned.

“Coffee? Aspirin?”

“Yes, both, please.”

I brought them to her at the kitchen table. She smiled at me. “Thanks, Rich. I mean it. I really needed a shoulder to cry on. Despite the hangover I feel a lot better.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“I still think you’re pretty confused about Lynn.”

“Yeah, I probably am.”

I made her a frittata from some eggs and leftovers she had in the fridge. Her kitchen was deteriorating to that of a bachelor. I noticed the garden in the backyard starting to become overgrown with weeds.

After breakfast we drove to the office. Most folks were already there. I put in a full day – consuming most of a pot of coffee and trying to re-hydrate from the prior evening’s drinking. I think I’ll lay off the booze for a while.

Overreaction?

“Rich, you know that I’m a pretty live and let live kinda guy. Anything between two, or three, or even four consenting adults is usually fine with me. But this isn’t one of your better ideas. You’re both attractive, hurt, and lonely people who will be alone with plenty of alcohol and no adult supervision. Unless your plan – while you are sober and carefully considering the consequences – is to end up in bed with her, I’d think twice about this whole dinner thing.” Maurizio the Italian love god was lecturing me - on matters of the heart no less. We were at the Tied House, a brew pub in Mountain View. Maurizio usually does not venture this far south – so I know that he is really serious about this.

It’s good to have friends who look out for you.

“You’re acting like I have no judgment or self control.”

“Rich, look what just happened with Sarah. You said it yourself; you are weak and stupid when it comes to women.”

“You see. This is why blogs should be anonymous. I never would have told you that I slept with Sarah again.”

“No?”

“No, I learned a long time ago not to kiss and tell.”

“That’s usually a pretty good policy. Maybe you shouldn’t kiss and blog."

"Anyway," he continued "this Kristen girl doesn’t seem like someone that you want to be messing with. She’s on the rebound, and you do not want to be the rebound guy with a VP that you work with. Do you remember how unpleasant a rebound break-up can be?”

OK, that’s a really good argument – a good enough reason that Maurizio has won this debate. He’s right, I should not do it. But it’s no fun letting him win so easily, besides we still have more beer. “How do you know she even has any interest in me?”

“Rich, if your blog posts are even half way accurate, then she’s interested. You're her type. You cook, you clean, you’re polite, you’re presentable at corporate functions, you can tell the difference between a cabernet and zinfandel. Don't sell yourself short, Rich. Put on 20 pounds, get a tan - they can spray that on nowadays - and you would be some serious arm candy. Just what every Silicon Valley digital diva needs. You’d make a great house pet.”

Ow. Maurizio was making more sense that usual tonight. I thought about it. I could change my blog name to “Richard, kept man”. I mentally tried out a potential post – “Today I drove my Ferrari up to the San Francisco yacht club and sailed my 40 foot boat on the bay. I took pity on all the folks who had jobs and needed to work for a living – they all missed a wonderful day. Sailing really does work up an appetite, so I had a kobe beef steak sandwich and half a bottle of the best cabernet at the yacht club, as always, money was no object… “ Hey, it could happen. I’ve got to say, worse things have happened to me in my life.

I still felt like debating with Maurizio. “You’re assuming that she’s as dumb as I am.” Did I really say that? Out loud? Sometimes don't you wish you could suck those words right back in? When I heard myself I realized that I wasn’t going to win this point. “She may be smarter than to have an affair with a junior coworker. She is a VP and an officer of the company. She would be exposing herself and the company to the liability of a sexual harassment lawsuit. She didn’t get where she is by making bad choices.”

“You really think you could get her on sexual harassment? I don’t think so.” He laughed at me, or the absurdity of it.

“It takes two to tango. You are presuming that she is both interested and willing. I’m not so sure. She had me at her house the night before last after one too many drinks, and she was a perfect gentleman – well, you know what I mean.” OK, the beer was starting to kick in.

“Why take the chance?” He was right. Having dinner alone with her, at her house would be a bad idea.

It could only end in tragedy.

Buy you a drink?

“Why do we spend so much time here?” Kristen asked. She was standing at the door to my cubicle. It was 9:00 and folks were starting to head home.

I had a couple of smart ass answers, but I knew that Paul had recently left her and she was probably hurting. I swallowed them. “I’m told that it might be worth it someday.”

“Maybe” she shrugged. “Can I buy you a glass of wine?”

“Sure.” I saved the file I was editing and followed her out to her car. The top was down – we drove that way to her favorite wine bar near the office. The wind noise prevented much of a conversation.

Once inside we got a table in a corner. She got a good bottle of cabernet. I took a taste. It was really good. “Rich, I want to thank you for the bottle of wine the other day. I really needed it. Not the alcohol, but getting a gift. It really made my day, an otherwise crappy day.”

“I’m glad it helped. I could kinda tell something was wrong." Understatement of the year. "Are you all right now?”

“No.” she snorted a sarcastic laugh. “He left me.”

“Paul?” I’m not sure why I asked. I already knew he was gone, and there was no one else that she could be talking about.

“We won’t use that name anymore. From now on he will only be referred to as ‘unmitigated beast.’” She said this rather conversationally, without too much anger.

“Uh, unmitigated beast, he left?”

“Yes.” She took a large swallow of wine – as if she intended to get drunk. And she was my designated driver. “He snuck out while I was at work. Such a cowardly way to get out of a relationship. He wasn’t even man enough to look me in the eye and tell me he was leaving. He left his crap all over my house. His clothes, his books, his trash.”

“He didn’t take anything?”

“He took his art. All of his paintings and drawing and art supplies, he left everything else. Did you see the drawing of me that was hanging in the living room?”

“The black and white calligraphy nude?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember that. It was beautiful. You were the model for that?”

“Yup. He painted it for my birthday. He gave it to me. Then he took it, and left the frame. He pulled the picture out and left the frame on the fucking floor.”

The painting was of a nude woman seated with her back towards the painter, with dark hair flowing down her back. It was done in bold calligraphy strokes in black, with a couple of hints of red and purple. Only a little of the subject’s face was visible, so I didn’t know it was her. But now that I knew, I could see that he had captured both her strength and her beauty. I can understand why she was angry that he had taken it. I had seen some of his art, this was easily his best work. “The bastard.” I replied – trying to be supportive.

“You’re starting to get the idea” she replied.

“It’s bad enough to dump you, but to steal from you.” Of course, I reserved judgment that he might have considered it to be his. This was probably more a case of misunderstanding than theft, but I didn’t think that she needed to hear that now.

“He’s up in Seattle, shacking up with his kayaking instructor.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. And what’s worse is that I paid for him to go up there. I paid for his trip. I paid for his kayaking lessons. I paid for him to meet her. I paid for his expedition this summer. And – just by coincidence – last week was the last date to cancel and get a refund.”

“Wow. I am so sorry.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it.” She looked at me questioningly.

“No, I mean, ‘I’m sorry’ as in ‘my deepest condolences.’”

“Oh, right. Thanks, Rich.” She held her head in her hands. “God, I gave him everything he asked for. Even more. He never gave me any indication that there was any problem. We didn’t fight. He never even showed the slightest sign of being unhappy. I just came home to find a note on the fridge. ‘Dear Jane, I’m boffing my kayaking instructor. No hard feelings.’ How can someone do that?”

“Having just had my heart run through a meat grinder, I know that there are no words that can make any difference right now.” She took another big swallow of wine. “I wish I could tell you what would make it better. But I can’t.”

“The gym” she said “exercise is a great way to burn off anger.”

“That’s why I paddle.” At that moment I realized how angry that I have been. Up until that point I had only though of it as sadness. But now I knew that I was working through a hell of a lot of anger, too. “You want to join me? I seem to be in need of a paddling buddy.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized how stupid they were.

“Rich,” I could tell that she was trying not to be offended by my remark. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that sport.”

“Sorry. I understand. That was pretty insensitive of me.”

We finished the bottle of wine. Hearing the story from her perspective, Paul really did sound like an unmitigated beast. He had cheated on her with his kayaking instructor, and snuck off like a coward. I’ve always done my breakups face to face. If you cared about the person at all it is the least that you can do. Even if you didn’t care about them.

Of course, I didn’t have Paul’s side of the story. I know that he probably was tired of being a lap dog – but you’d think he could say something. Perhaps try to work out a new arrangement. Kristen was a very strong woman, assertive - OK bitchy. But she usually seemed to be a reasonable person – well, except for last week.

“Rich, are you OK to drive?”

“Yeah, you drank most of the bottle”

“Good.” She handed me a credit card looking thing and ordered a double Grey Goose vodka.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s the key to my car. Just put it in your pocket and you can drive the car.”

OK. This is a $100,000 car. I know that my insurance won’t cover it if anything happens. I only had a glass and half of wine, so I’m OK – but this sobers me up quick. “I can drive you home, but then what?”

“Oh, take the car home. Bring it to the office in the morning.”

“How will you get to work?”

“I have unmitigated beast’s car at home. I’ll take it.”

She downed the vodka in a single gulp.

She got in the passenger side of the car. I climbed in behind the wheel. I fumbled looking for how to start the thing – there were no keys. She pushed the button on the top of the gearshift and the engine roared to life. Oh. I drove her home and walked her to her door and made sure that she got inside OK. She wasn’t really drunk, but it was probably a good thing for her not to drive. I got back in the car and put the top up (a push of one button and a hardtop folded out of the trunk). This thing is amazing. I drove home, following the speed limit the whole time, and being very, very careful. (picture the scene from "Risky Business" after Joel has the Porsche cleaned up.)

Heavenly Beauty

The wind played with her long brown hair as it gently swayed in the breeze coming off the ocean. The firelight gently lit up her face with a warm flickering glow. Her eyes were smiling brightly as she laughed at something. She was wearing black jeans and an oversized white pullover sweater - she wore it well - it had a very designer look to it and was elegantly accessorized. She was drinking something unnaturally red from a martini glass and it was almost gone.

I was once again in love, and I didn’t even know her name.

“What’s that red martini drink?” I asked Steve, the bar tender on duty at my favorite watering hole – Half Moon Bay Brewing Company. Maurizio and I were sitting at the bar looking out at the patio. After seeing Lynn and Tim together this weekend, I needed company and some 80 proof therapy. My new found love was a bonus. She sitting outside at the fire pit. There was an empty chair next to her.

“That’s a cosmo.” Steve replied to my query. You'd think I'd know that, given how much time I spend in bars.

“Give me one.” I asked “No, two, please.”

Steve proceeded to mix the drinks. It really didn’t look appetizing to me. It was a rather slow night, even for a Monday. There was no entertainment tonight.

I took the drinks outside and sat down next to her. Glancing back in the bar, it became apparent that I was now the entertainment for Steve, Maurizio and some of the regulars as they all peered out the window to see how well I would do.

“Hello, you seem to be getting a little low there, I thought I’d bring you a fresh one.” I handed her the drink.

“Thank you,” she said with enthusiasm.

“Hi, I’m Rich.”

“I’m Jill, and this is my friend Cara.”

I nodded at Cara. “Oh, fresh drinks.” She declared and held out her hand toward me. She seemed a bit tipsy. I was planning to keep the drink for myself. But it seemed like the right thing to do was to give her the drink, so I handed it over with a smile and said. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks” Cara said “Rich, that’s just short for Richard?”

“Yeah, just.” I said. Cara seemed a bit disappointed, but Jill laughed. Would anyone really go around introducing themselves with their financial status? Cara's not so bright. I like that. I looked inside and gestured to Steve for a drink. He nodded and grabbed a pint glass and filled it with the IPA – good man.

After the waitress brought out the beer I complimented Jill on her shoes - a trick that was taught to me in college. Women usually take a great deal of interest in footwear. They really appreciate it when guys notice their nice shoes. It often works wonders. Frankly, I can't tell the difference between a mule and a slingback - and I have no clue what Jimmy Choo does to leather that makes it worth $12,000 per square foot - but women seem to be really into them. Next I complimented her hair, which was stunning. I brushed a strand behind her ear – just to see her reaction. She was starting to get leery as if I was there to pick her up (which I was). I chatted about the weather and other innocuous subjects, then I decided to rush things. Girls usually make up their mind in the first minute how far they are going to let you go. Yeah, you can spend months trying to change their mind – but in this case I decided it would be better to know sooner rather than later. So I dived in.

“Ah... Rich, ah... I’m kind of in this... thing with, ah... a guy.” She said.

Crash and burn. “Well, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But I’m sure someone as beautiful as you has this happen all the time.”

She tilted her head down and laughed dismissively. “No, not really.” She was flattered – which was my goal.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better, huh? Anyway, enjoy the cosmo. And make sure that, 'ah... guy' takes good care of you. It was nice to meet you Jill, and Cara.” I then took the walk of shame back to the bar.

“Oooh, Rich, I thought you had that one.” Steve said. “Here’s one on the house.” He passed me another IPA. Maurizio patted me on the back.

"I need a girlfriend.” I lamented.

“Why?” Maurizio asked. “They don’t seem to bring you a lot of joy lately.”

“Yeah they do. It’s the lack of a girlfriend that’s pissing me off. It’s when they stop being girlfriends that’s the problem.” We talked for a while, and I noticed a girl at the corner of the bar that kept making eye contact. “Hey Steve,” I called out, “Can I get one of what she’s drinking?” She was finishing a pint of beer, probably the lager.

I took her a fresh beer. She smiled at me and thanked me. I was quickly shoved from behind. “Hey, she’s with me.” I turned to see a guy who was about twice my size. And he was kinda angry. I really hadn’t noticed that anyone was with her.

“Sorry, I was just bringing her a beer.”

“Yeah, well I can get her all the beer she needs. Now get out of here.” He stuck out his chest and stood between me and her.

“OK, ok, I’m sorry” I held up my hands and backed off. Glen (the manager) was there ready to break up the possibly impending bar fight. He’s a small guy, but he knows how to handle himself. I was not going to fight this guy, he could have squashed me like a bug.

I sat back down with Maurizio. “That’d be 0 for 2” he said. The girl mouthed “thank you” and “sorry” at me across the bar when her date wasn’t looking.

I went 0 for 3 last night, and had a few too many - which was kinda the plan. There is a decent motel about a block away on highway 1 that’s pretty inexpensive. I spent the night there.

HMB Brewing is a small bar and not really a meet market. It caters to tourists and the occasional yuppie surfer. Of course, I’m just saying that to make myself feel better. Nothing like a few good crash and burns to keep me humble.