A few of the lines attempted on me recently

Sorry to interrupt you, but you have a beautiful smile. An oldie, but a goodie.

Sex is overrated. No, no it's not. You must be doing it wrong. Buh-bye.

I couldn't take my eyes off you. Mm, I'm listening...

What am I going to do with you? Every damned thing, I hope.

I've been fighting this -- you're so beautiful, OH MY GOD! Don't fight it, baby. It's a losing proposition.

I have four daughters and I'm looking for a wife and I'm going to build my dream house and it's going to have hardwood floors, except for in the bedroom. The bedroom is going to be carpeted because if me and my lady start getting freaky, we don't want to be banging our knees up on no hardwood floors, chasing each other around, getting all... Whoa, whoa, whoa, man. No, no, and hell no. Maybe if you pronounced my name right.

There aren't many honest people out there... Duh, including you and me. Get real.

Tell the guy who gets you that he won the lottery, because he will have. True, I am a catch, but who says anyone's going to catch me? Now, let's me and you get to know each other better...

I love your attitude. Me too.

You can take the controls. Already have, always will. Smart man.

Krazy

I didn't think the week before last could be topped for wild, wonderful surprises and surprising myself. Then last week blew it out of the water. I cannot and don't really want to get into it all here, but it was completely unforgettable -- in the best ways.

This isn't the best part, but one thing I did last week was go on a flying date. I don't mean we went to the airport, stood in line, got treated like potential terrorists and flew coach. I mean flyboy flew me in a private plane to our destination and back. It was beautiful -- daylight on the way there, over the cities and farmland, and night on the way back, twinkling lights all the way. Absolutely amazing. The next guy who thinks he's going to impress me with his fancy car is going to have a rude awakening. Not that I ever cared about that, but not much is going to compare to that ride.

And get this: Since he's a pilot and a flight instructor, he's going to teach me to fly a plane. Pilot a plane!!!!! Never dreamed I'd be crossing that off my list so soon, but things change. Things change.

My work here is done

"Whatever else happens, now I can die a happy man," he said.

I was missing?

Apparently so. Today, I got a very pleasant surprise. An e-mail from a girl I went to high school with. She'd seen me listed as "missing" on a Web site for our high school reunion and tracked me down. I had kind of been wondering if anyone was organizing a reunion for this year, but hadn't gone to the trouble of trying to find out.

This girl is one of maybe two people from my class that I'd care to hear from. We haven't been in touch for quite some time, sadly, but I think of her often and kept a picture of her on my fridge for years (I wonder what happened to it?). She and I were drawn together, I think, because we were both tenuously connected to everything, but attached to nothing. Always watching and, of course, commenting. She was always an old soul. She seemed to have the answers to all my questions. I could never figure out how she knew so much about life when she was the same age as me. Someone so beautiful, witty, book smart and street smart just knocks me out. I guess you could say I was in awe of her. Still am. We also had in common that we weren't sentimental sorts, and I think we still do. So a couple of things she wrote today in our notes back and forth touched me.

I wanted to reflect on some of the highlights of HS -- like you.
Let's not lose each other again.

I don't know if I'll go to that reunion, though it would be entertaining, I'm sure. But I'll definitely be seeing her as soon as possible.

Wow. Just wow.

I don't want to play this game anymore

I read this article the other day, and I've been thinking about it ever since. It's about one of those studies that doesn't tell you anything you didn't already know (and why there's a journal for body image, I'm not sure). It seems that from girlhood on, women in this country know that they are expected to engage in fat talk in groups of females. Each woman will denigrate the way her body looks (how fat she is) and then the others will support her by doing the same to themselves and providing compliments. Yeah. That's true:

"My ass is so huge in these pants. I can't eat lunch today."

"You look great. Look at my thighs. Don't they make you want to vomit?"

I did this for years, of course, and it did, in fact, sometimes make me feel better. Or I convinced myself it did. You never really believe the compliments though -- it's all scripted, after all. And you know you're lying when you tell that one girl she looks good.

But I stopped playing this game awhile back. I'll still fall into the trap every once in awhile, but I have so many other more important and enjoyable things to think about, I can't spare the energy.

Plus, the secret is: I like my body. It's not perfect, but nobody's is. But it pleases me, for the most part. It's healthy and does pretty much everything I need it to do without problems. Men seem to like it just fine. I think it's a pretty good one and I'm not going to pretend I don't think so to "make friends." There are looks; I've noticed them when I don't join in. Or, worse, when three women say they hate X body part on themselves and I say, "I like mine."

Out of step, once again, but if only more women would join me. It's a silly study, but the researcher is right when she says if women spent less time worrying about their "fat," they could spend more time and energy leading, influencing and contributing to society. Ladies, admit you're gorgeous and go conquer the world. Time's a-wasting.

Just let me have my fun, a'ight?

What is the deal with guys? When I became single, I decided to take time for myself, to get my shit together, make sure I had my head on straight all by my lonesome before I got involved in any way, shape or form with a guy. I wanted to make sure I got back to feeling good about myself by doing the work myself, not because of some rebound or something. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself and thank goodness for the reality of that. Truly, there is nothing wrong with being independent and shall we say selfish? It's my life, I'll live it as I see fit.

Check.

I've got tons of single girlfriends. They've all told me about how horrible it is out there. But I figured, once I'm ready to dip my toe back in the water, this is how I'll approach it: I've never really done this before, it's all part of the process, and there are plenty of dogs in the park. I'll date around, meet some weirdos, kiss some frogs, get some funny stories to dine out on, have some fun, see what it's all about. No big whoop.

What I don't get and wasn't expecting is guys wanting to lock this down, and quickly. I know I'm poetry in motion and all that shit -- I've heard all that crap before, believe me. But isn't the stereotype that I'm supposed to be the one trying to lock down some man while he plays the hard to get commitment-phobe? That's not how it seems to be, though. Can't a girl just have some fun? Can't we just do what men and women do and keep it light? Can't they get out of my daggone way? I've got stuff to do and the last thing I need right now is some male latched onto me, dragging me down. For crying out loud.

My horoscope today

You're in a shopping mood, and what you're shopping for is a pleasing future. Once you lock your gaze on a juicy slice of your destiny, you're going to have it no matter what -- even if you have to make it yourself.

Yup, damned straight. I will, I am, I do. Dag, I'm getting all New Agey lately. Trying to figure out which words to apply to the way everything is coming up roses.

Miracle?
Destiny?
Serendipity?
Luck?
Fortune?
Karma?
Wonderfulicity? I like the way this sounds and feels on my tongue. I'm making it my word.

Note to self:

Do not answer the phone when it says "No Caller ID" and you've got a nice little buzz on and are feeling chatty, for you will while away how-much-time-? asking the sweet college freshman from your alma mater all about her experiences and how the basketball team did this year and laughing and reminiscing about your college years and create a warm, fuzzy feeling about said alma mater which didn't exist before you answered the phone and you will agree to make a donation to the already filthy rich school, which you have never done before and which you will later wish you hadn't.

At least it's tax-deductible.