Today Maurizio and I went to the paddle club meeting. The club meets in the banquet room of a local restaurant – and bar. There seems to be a social half hour before things get started where everyone gets a beer or two and some food from the bar and settles in. Maurizio and I took a table near the rear, and we were joined by paddle girl. She was wearing retro-hightop basketball shoes, faded jeans and a green hoodie. I realized I had never seen her without a dry suit or paddle wear on. She actually has curves.
The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.
Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.
I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.
“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”
“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”
“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”
The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”
Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”
“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.
Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.
I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”
“Hi, I’m Rich.”
She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.
I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.
“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”
“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.
“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”
“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”
“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.
“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”
Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”
“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.
“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”
It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.
Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.
“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.
“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.
“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”
“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.
“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”
“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”
“Huh?”
I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.
“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”
“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”
“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”
“How old is she?”
“24.”
“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”
I laughed at him.
“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”
“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “
“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.
Perv.
Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.
Wednesday, November 18
Saturday, November 14
China
I’ve never been to China before. It is incredible. The new parts of town are like any major city in the US - but newer and bigger and bolder - wow. Big buildings, wide roads, lots of lights, traffic, hustle and bustle. The old parts are a jumble of old and dirty and traditional and crowded. China is poised to become the second largest economy, anyone who doubts that they will become the first before too long should have a visit.The food is amazing. I like Chinese food, but never thought much of it. But after tasting the food here, I get it. I know what the places in the USA are trying to make. Last night I had a simple pork and noodle dish, but the flavor was just amazing. I know I’ll never be able to replicate it, but I’m going to try. It was awesome.
There is a lot of weird food, too. They eat a lot of organ meat, tendons, fat, and other things I have a hard time with. During one breakfast with my hosts I had a dish which ensures that the eater will advance a station in life - yeah, it was that good.
Now I'm on my way home from Cheng-du, to Beijing, to Tokyo, to San Francisco - 19 hours en route. Fortunately, business class once I get to Beijing.
______________
In other news, I got a text from paddle-girl:
Dawn Patrol? Sunday?
I responded:
Depends on the jet lag
No further calls from Heidi. Hrmph.
_____________
I wrote this in the airport in Cheng-du on Friday - but it failed to post (darn chinese censors!) Anyway, reposting now - san pics. Blogger is being difficult with my travel photos. Grrr.
Sunday, November 8
Heidi called
One of the funny things about Japan is that they use a completely different phone standard than the rest of the world. So I was without cell phone coverage since Monday.
When I turned on my phone here in Shanghai, I got a whole mess of missed calls. I noticed that Heidi called. Once, Thursday afternoon pacific time. She left no message. No text. No other apparent attempt at contact.
Hmmm, what's the protocol here? Do I call her back? I'm thinking not.
When I turned on my phone here in Shanghai, I got a whole mess of missed calls. I noticed that Heidi called. Once, Thursday afternoon pacific time. She left no message. No text. No other apparent attempt at contact.
Hmmm, what's the protocol here? Do I call her back? I'm thinking not.
Saturday, November 7
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 3
My 200th Post
36000 feet up - somewhere over the Pacific ocean. United flight 838 SFO-NRT – Seat 13B. Upper deck 747. Paid business class. This is the way to travel. Seat 13A is empty. The company sent a limo to my house to take me to the airport – it’s cheaper than paying for parking at the airport for 12 days. There’s a 15” flat screen monitor built into the seat. Video on demand. AC power with a standard plug. A seat that reclines to a 6’ 6” flat bed. Noise canceling headphones. A connection for my iPod. They brought me a nice glass of champagne before the flight departed.
It’s an 11 hour flight. I though I would take some of the time to re-read my blog. I write the entries into a word file, and copy them into blogger. So I have the whole thing in one file. Now it’s weighing in at 283 pages. (There are about 40 posts that I did not put up, some too personal, some too x-rated, some too lame) I’ve written a damn novel (it just needs a happy ending). It’s been a bit over a year now. New reader? Start from the beginning – read it in order. As I re-read it, I laughed and I cried.
I could not have made up this story – I’m just not that creative. And everything written here is true – it happened. The details, places, names, and other things have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. I have taken the occasional literary license to provide comic relief. And I’ve probably over dramatized some things (as Maurizio says, I’m a drama queen). But the gist of the story is god’s honest truth. If I made this up, I’d be better looking, better paid, and I’d get the girl a hell of a lot more often.
My interest in writing this has waxed and waned – but in the end I’m glad I did it. I didn’t know a broken heart could hurt so much. I had no idea. Usually, I don’t keep a record of my life. I just collect random things to remind me – a boarding pass to Sydney, the admission ticket to the casino in Monte Carlo, the receipt for my windsurfer, a box of matches from a restaurant in Paris, a shell from the beach on Maui, the miniature gargoyle that guards my computer, the label from a wine bottle – I pile them in boxes and drawers and scatter then across my house and office. I come upon these things from time to time and they remind me of good times. But there is no commentary. I don’t collect things from the bad times. But these were bad times I want (desperately) to learn from. These days I don’t want to forget. The mind has a way of pushing out those unpleasant memories away – distorting them – turning them inside out.
I’ll keep blogging. I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave a comment from time to time.
-Rich
It’s an 11 hour flight. I though I would take some of the time to re-read my blog. I write the entries into a word file, and copy them into blogger. So I have the whole thing in one file. Now it’s weighing in at 283 pages. (There are about 40 posts that I did not put up, some too personal, some too x-rated, some too lame) I’ve written a damn novel (it just needs a happy ending). It’s been a bit over a year now. New reader? Start from the beginning – read it in order. As I re-read it, I laughed and I cried.
I could not have made up this story – I’m just not that creative. And everything written here is true – it happened. The details, places, names, and other things have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. I have taken the occasional literary license to provide comic relief. And I’ve probably over dramatized some things (as Maurizio says, I’m a drama queen). But the gist of the story is god’s honest truth. If I made this up, I’d be better looking, better paid, and I’d get the girl a hell of a lot more often.
My interest in writing this has waxed and waned – but in the end I’m glad I did it. I didn’t know a broken heart could hurt so much. I had no idea. Usually, I don’t keep a record of my life. I just collect random things to remind me – a boarding pass to Sydney, the admission ticket to the casino in Monte Carlo, the receipt for my windsurfer, a box of matches from a restaurant in Paris, a shell from the beach on Maui, the miniature gargoyle that guards my computer, the label from a wine bottle – I pile them in boxes and drawers and scatter then across my house and office. I come upon these things from time to time and they remind me of good times. But there is no commentary. I don’t collect things from the bad times. But these were bad times I want (desperately) to learn from. These days I don’t want to forget. The mind has a way of pushing out those unpleasant memories away – distorting them – turning them inside out.
I’ll keep blogging. I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave a comment from time to time.
-Rich
Monday, November 2
Exchange of the left items
“So you’re flower guy?” asked the receptionist at Heidi’s office. I had let her know that I was here to drop off some things for Heidi and pick up a box that she left for me. My flight for Tokyo leaves at 11:30. I asked for the Limo to pick me up at 9:30. I stopped by Heidi’s office a bit before 9 to exchange stuff. Once done I needed to race back home and get driven to SFO. As long as traffic cooperates I might not be late.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“What’d you do?”
“I was bad.” I made a face.
“No really, what’d you do? No one ever sent that many flowers. I mean guys have ended up divorced and not put in that much of an effort.” I was kinda shocked that Ms. Receptionist was being so nosey. But I’m neither a customer nor an employee – or anyone else of note. I’m just someone’s ex-boyfriend – and the subject of some office gossip.
“It was…” I shook my head, “nothing.”
“Word is you cheated on her.” Receptionists rule the rumor mill. She was baiting me. I know I should have taken the high road and walked away. But I hated the thought of leaving my good name undefended.
“I had dinner with an old girlfriend.”
“That’s it?” She was disappointed.
“That’s it.” I shrugged.
She looked at me sideways. “So why all the drama?”
“’Cause I really didn’t want to let Heidi get away. But it wasn’t meant to be. Let me get out of your way.” I motioned for the box with my name on it. I left a Crate and Barrel bag with all the things that Heidi had left at my house – there wasn’t much. I did need to get home soon, but I needed to ask. I knew I shouldn’t – but I had to. “What happened between Lynn and Tim? How did it end?” She had to know.
She perked up. “Well,” she looked both ways – but it was early and no one was around. “Tim started dating (office-slut) about 2 weeks before they broke up. (Office-slut) works in marketing for (manager-dude). Anyway, Lynn’s friend (snoopy) was in the women’s locker room taking a shower after her jog at lunchtime. There’s one other shower stall occupied, but there are two sets of feet – and one has hairy ankles – if you know what I mean. Anyway, after a few minutes, (office-slut) is calling out ‘Oh, Tim, Oh, Tim.’ It happens.” She tried to look nonchalant – but it was clear that she lived for this stuff. “So, (snoopy) tells Lynn what she heard. Lynn goes ballistic. She runs all over campus looking for him. She confronts him in the cafeteria. (Cookie), the cafeteria manager almost called security. Folks thought that she was going to Bobbitize him right there.” She paused, “Why the smirk?”
WTF I thought. I’ll throw her a bone, she may come in useful someday. “Lynn was the old girlfriend I had dinner with.” Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight. “Have a nice day.” I said and walked out to my car.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“What’d you do?”
“I was bad.” I made a face.
“No really, what’d you do? No one ever sent that many flowers. I mean guys have ended up divorced and not put in that much of an effort.” I was kinda shocked that Ms. Receptionist was being so nosey. But I’m neither a customer nor an employee – or anyone else of note. I’m just someone’s ex-boyfriend – and the subject of some office gossip.
“It was…” I shook my head, “nothing.”
“Word is you cheated on her.” Receptionists rule the rumor mill. She was baiting me. I know I should have taken the high road and walked away. But I hated the thought of leaving my good name undefended.
“I had dinner with an old girlfriend.”
“That’s it?” She was disappointed.
“That’s it.” I shrugged.
She looked at me sideways. “So why all the drama?”
“’Cause I really didn’t want to let Heidi get away. But it wasn’t meant to be. Let me get out of your way.” I motioned for the box with my name on it. I left a Crate and Barrel bag with all the things that Heidi had left at my house – there wasn’t much. I did need to get home soon, but I needed to ask. I knew I shouldn’t – but I had to. “What happened between Lynn and Tim? How did it end?” She had to know.
She perked up. “Well,” she looked both ways – but it was early and no one was around. “Tim started dating (office-slut) about 2 weeks before they broke up. (Office-slut) works in marketing for (manager-dude). Anyway, Lynn’s friend (snoopy) was in the women’s locker room taking a shower after her jog at lunchtime. There’s one other shower stall occupied, but there are two sets of feet – and one has hairy ankles – if you know what I mean. Anyway, after a few minutes, (office-slut) is calling out ‘Oh, Tim, Oh, Tim.’ It happens.” She tried to look nonchalant – but it was clear that she lived for this stuff. “So, (snoopy) tells Lynn what she heard. Lynn goes ballistic. She runs all over campus looking for him. She confronts him in the cafeteria. (Cookie), the cafeteria manager almost called security. Folks thought that she was going to Bobbitize him right there.” She paused, “Why the smirk?”
WTF I thought. I’ll throw her a bone, she may come in useful someday. “Lynn was the old girlfriend I had dinner with.” Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight. “Have a nice day.” I said and walked out to my car.
Sunday, November 1
The Hunger
It was 1 a.m.
I was tossing and turning in bed (alone) unable to sleep. After having lost Heidi I wasn't sure what to expect. Yeah - I'm getting pretty good at being dumped.
There was an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. A yearning I hadn't felt in what seems like years.
I was hungry. Not just able to eat. Not just a biological reaction to low blood sugar. It was a sensuous desire for food. I hadn't felt this since the ugliness.
I wandered over the the refrigerator. There was some left over grilled NY steak. I had some good crusty italian bread. Steak sandwich it is.
One thing that a good sandwich needs is a good mayonaise. I cracked an egg and whipped up the yolk up with canola oil and fresh lemon juice. I put in some fresh grated horseradish and capers. Yes, I really made a horseradish caper mayo from scratch for a midnight snack. I'm that much of a foodie.
Then I heated up my cast iron skillet and toasted two slices of bread, after brushing them with olive oil. Then I sliced the steak as thin as I could. I bunched it up - almost into a burger like form - and gave it a good sear on the outside. There was still lots of juicy medium rare steak in the middle. During the searing process I melted some sharp white vermont cheddar on it.
I topped the meat with some baby arugula, a few slices of tomato, a small splash of balsamic vinegar (from these guys - really good) and some very thinly sliced red onion.
I opened a bottle of Bordeaux and started into my snack. Damn that's good. I haven't enjoyed food this much in such a long time.
_______________________________________
I did drag my sleepy butt out of bed at stupid-o-clock in the morning to go paddling with paddle girl. I missed her party on Friday night, but we still had our standing 5:30 a.m. paddle in Santa Cruz on Sunday morning. I really feel better about this now that I know that she is over 18.
I arrived at the dock and, as usual, there she was stretching.
"Hey"
"Ready for some pain?"
"Yeah - I could use a good workout."
"How's big boobs?"
"Uh, her name's Heidi."
"OK, how's Heidi?"
"She dumped me."
"Man, I'm sorry to hear that. That sucks. What happened?"
"It's complicated." I busied myself with getting the boat set up. "So, why'd you lie?" The irony of that question was not lost on me.
"Huh?"
"Why'd you lie?"
"About what?"
"Being 17."
"Oh. Uh, that. Busted, huh?"
"It doesn't really matter, but I'm just curious. I mean you don't even look 17. I don't care how old you are. So why?"
"I've been paddling since I was 12. Competing since 14. This is a very male dominated sport - lots of testosterone. Paddlers are always hitting on me. Older guys - well the creepy ones - tend to leave me alone if I tell 'em I'm 17. Learned it when I was young - it worked so I kept on doing it. You're right, I'm probably getting too old for that trick."
Uh, yeah, that means I look like one of the creepy ones. "You could try just saying 'not interested'"
"Guys can be really persistent."
I laughed, "This is true."
"How'd you figure it out?" She asked.
"Google - I googled your paddling club to see about the party, saw your records. You paddled at the world championships 2 years ago?"
"Yeah, that was awesome." She regaled me with stories of her competitions - pretty cool. Turns out she just missed making the olympic team in 2008. But the U.S. does not field a very competitive paddling team. The Germans really dominate the sport. The Americans rarely make it to finals.
We paddled for 6 miles and I got a really good workout.
As we were packing up to leave, she asked "Next week?"
"Yeah." And then I remembered. "No, I can't - I'm in Tokyo next weekend." She seemed surprised that I might have a job that would take me to Tokyo. (surprised, mind you - not impressed) "Maybe the weekend after. I'll call you."
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