5'4", bald, gray ponytail and bushy goatee -- I'm not the first notion of a leading man for most people, so I've been forced to compensate by being kind, funny, and smart.
It seems to have worked. I'm frequently stopped on the street for conversation in my little urban village by friends and many acquaintances I'd met in the last decade. I'm often flattered but no longer surprised when new acquaintances reveal to me "I've never told anyone else this before, but . . . "
As I age, I'm getting less cerebral and more personable. I still hold on to opinions and can back them up, but I laugh much more frequently and more heartily.
My ex-dog loved me; for six years she routinely ran away from home and made the fifteen block trek to wait silently outside my door until I happened to find her there. My son, still barely out of his teens, admits to being fond of me. And I'm a decent cook (good for my spouse and her kids, whenever I'm home on the island and not in Seattle hustling for work).
If you're still reading this, Lucy, my ex-dog, died peacefully January 14, 2004, at the age of thirteen, continuing her unauthorized visits almost to her last day. R. I. P.
I am wittily funny, kind, and bright