I just relocated to Las Vegas from Los Angeles for work, which involves a mustache. A performing artist and huge Rat Pack fan, I suppose I knew I'd arrive here at some point.
My lifestyle seems to scare off many, which is a good thing. Any path I took in my life of which I'm even slightly proud came from great cost and conflict. There is so much I have yet to learn, discover and experience. Living in Los Angeles now the last 2+ years, I feel like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory. I'm just happy to be here. Employing clever language in the moment, igniting smiles and laughter in others, pursuing my own art and encouraging that in others ... these are some of my favorite things.
I hear rumors of mythic tales of dynamic inter-dependent couples who are there for each other, particularly in the darkest of hours, respecting and fighting for each other. Who are these people? One what planet do they reside? Could I one day meet one of these strange, wonderful creatures, perhaps perfectly perched on a glimmering unicorn?
In the meantime, I seek activity partners of all kinds. I lost interest in pen pals about the time I was listening to the J. Geils Band from a ghetto blaster in the back of a school bus. I find significant conversations work best in person, not on chalk boards, in emails or text messages. Apparently I read and comprehend English more than most, including a rocket scientist ex. Such facts are stubborn things ... that never cease to frustrate me.
I happen to enjoy sensuality and passion more than the most ardent Kardashian fan enjoys reality TV and pink blingly phone covers. European appetites and Latin passion seduce me. American Puritanism and religious babble make me violently ill. If you haven't read Candide or Twain or Hitchens or Watchman but DVR any reality TV, what else do you expect me to do but visually enjoy your curves for a moment? If this upsets you, I'm guessing now's not the time to alert you to the distinct possibility that the manufacture of the smart phones we all use involved child slave labor.
It would seem to the casual observer that most people would rather act offended than nurture curiosity, romance and the possibilities to create a better world. Please understand I'm SAG-AFTRA and I get paid for ANY drama in which I choose to participate.
While Kipling was right, that success and failure are both impostors, I find most women respond better to what they perceive as the materially successful. But when the zombies come and you wish I was there to crack a joke as I employ my Eagle Scout MacGyver methods so we can survive ... remember the moment you thought it was up to me to display flashy clothes, cars, venues and gifts to win you over. And yet the old school gentleman within me conspires against our best interests to endeavor to do just that. Don't let me.
It took me a while to discover my passion to entertain, sometimes with a dash of wit. I do not fear poverty or homelessness or the cheap chatter of others. Maybe because as a student on academic scholarship at 19 I chose to defend the independent newspaper I published. My reward was expulsion, slander, defamation, and a spot on the FBI's Subversive List.
I sleep very well at night (even if on a bus), knowing specifically how I make the world a better place today. I never EVER felt that way sleeping in a country club writing mortgage loans. Like Bryan Cranston, the idea of "making it" (especially with time tables) is bewildering. I don't need red carpets or awards. But if and when I encounter such impostors, who do you think I will remember in that moment? A boy band groupie?
When I have a suite at the W, that is certainly the worst time to begin seducing me.
Most who read this are not who I'm looking for ... with whom to enjoy very specific limited activities. Winning me over slightly is effortless for the right kind of woman, impossible for nearly everyone else.
So let me leave you with this: PLEASE listen to yourself and pursue your passion. Regardless whether you see your father as a superhero or a villain, he may very well have merely played the cards he had at the time the best he could. Only the pursuit of your passion in life can. And your dad might have been a pathetic cad like mine. Maybe both.
And you probably need to lighten up a bit, listen to better music, have more and better sex ... and go buy some mace and take a martial arts course. I certainly should. Cheers!