Take notes, Silda et al.

Whoa! Finally, a cheating's pol's wife shows it's possible to have both a dignified and SANE public response.

Jenny Sanford, 46, was not in attendance at the news conference. She issued a statement later in the day saying that while she loves her husband, she asked him to leave the family two weeks ago in a trial separation.

“When I found out about my husband’s infidelity I worked immediately to first seek reconciliation through forgiveness, and then to work diligently to repair our marriage,” she said. “We reached a point where I felt it was important to look my sons in the eyes and maintain my dignity, self-respect, and my basic sense of right and wrong.” Because of the separation, she said, she did not know where he was in the last week.

-Gov. Sanford Admits Affair and Explains Disappearance

Medium Game, Side of Crazy

I should probably just be banned from dating. It appears I am terrible at it.

Sometimes I resent my friends who married their college boyfriends around the turn of the millennium. They have no idea what it's like out here, now that social conventions are in rapid flux. We barely had time to get used to calling someone's cell phone instead of their home phone, or to using email to ask someone out.

Now, only five years later, I'm trying to understand whether opting for a text message is lazy or sleazy or just... a logical update to 21st century dating software. Maybe it takes the pressure off everyone involved in a way that smoothes out the rough edges of those first gestures.

Obviously I am not contemplating this in the abstract. I met someone on Saturday. Someone so yummy, I wasn't even going to wait for him to call me because why would I take a chance on someone else sticking their spoon in before me? (That dirty euphemism doesn't quite work when it's a girl talking about a guy, does it?)

Well, he beat me to it, sending a text on Tuesday- I had fun talking to you. (Yummy LOVES me. I WIN!)

Yes, of course I was happy to hear from him so soon. But the text option caused a slight eyebrow raise. Anyway, I responded, madly flexing my humor muscles. And he responded, with some solid humor muscle of his own. And now what? Time for a reciprocal gesture. When shall we get together, I ask. I'll call you this weekend, he replies.

Mysterious.

Why doesn't he call you during the week, asks my friend Fan, a guy. I don't know. Why are you the only person I've told who asks this question, I wonder. Because it's a good question.

Except it's not really. Because, as it turns out, a guy cannot win with me. Mr. Yummy sent a text early, presumably to assure me that he is interested, with clear plans to call when it is convenient for him. Isn't that fair enough? If he had waited the week to call, with no other contact, wouldn't I have started to give up on him? When he finally did call, wouldn't I have sniffed, Too late! CLEARLY, you are Just Not That Into me.

Yes, yes, and yes. Those were much better questions.

So, you see, I am no good at this. And it's not just the texting-vs.-calling issue. In the same "I'll call you over the weekend," message, Mr. Yummy told me I'm sexy and funny. Clearly my texting humor went over well with him. (As did the grubby camping outfit he saw me in both Saturday night AND Sunday morning. HOTT.) What didn't go over well with me, however, were the compliments delivered in ones and zeros. Was I flattered, in that first moment? Uh-- yeah! But then I had to worry. Is that too forward, and premature? Is he refreshingly direct or... a sleazoid?

But those are also not good questions. Didn't I complain recently that another man, who I know is interested in me, has no game? And now I'm concerned that Mr. Yummy-- what --has too much game? Come ON, Sheesh. This isn't a burger joint. You can't ask for medium game.

So did I mention I suck at this? I don't know which indicators are good, and which are bad. It's like a language I barely understand, and it's imperative to get around this strange land, and I just want to cry.

And, yeah, I'm overreacting (thanks, Fan). I should just stop thinking about it and go on an eventual date and get some more data to mine.

Only, I'm just not good at this yet. I still hate to look forward to spending time with someone who will turn out to be a frog. (God, especially when he really seems like a prince on paper.) I hate being disappointed so much, that I am willing to drive myself nuts parsing every bit of early information in search of something that might prevent it.

Poor guy. If he has any sense he'll be as wary of me as I am of him.

(ps- a great Modern Love piece about text dating, from way back in '05: R We D8ting?)

And the lady will have a purple unicorn

Diaz, who has reportedly split from Brit model-actor Paul Sculfor, has certain qualities she looks for in a partner. For instance, she wants a guy "who knows who he is. Someone who understands himself, has already dealt with his issues and who can say, 'I see where I've been foolish before and I'm not going to be like that again.' 

Oh, man... If a hot, successful chick can't find that, what hope is there for the rest of us?!

(I kid)

(Sort of)

Judging the Judges

Paths of Sotomayor and Thomas Diverge on Race and Identity

Interesting adjacent portraits. First off, Sotomayor comes off pretty great. She sure seems like good people. And secondly, I'm always intrigued by how & why people handle difficult circumstances and challenges differently. Thomas comes off a rather miserable fellow here, where Sotomayor seems to have been more resilient. If I had to speculate, I'd wonder if his being abandoned by both parents made him prone to internalizing the rejections and difficulties at these institutions. Seems like where Thomas saw affirmative action as predominantly flawed and humiliating, Sotomayor navigated the inevitable obstacles and worked on proliferating opportunities and holding people accountable for discrimination.

It's interesting to think about the factors that go into shaping attitudes about race. For instance, it's not a stretch to see how a displaced child might grow up to feel like "a man without a country"-- black or not.  

And I guess it bugs me to think that one person's shitty emotional coping skills have cost thousands of people decent opportunities. 

But anyway, I'm excited by the prospect of Sotomayor as a counterweight.

Scenes from a Manhattan Starbucks

This morning, on the Upper East Side, as I walked into my closest Starbucks, I witnessed a little boy shouting through the window to a little girl inside.

"Where's your nanny?! Or mom?!"

Man, I love this town.

Baldwin Humor

Sheesh got blindsided by a nasty virus and has been sick for days. Sheesh is not accustomed to this level of infirmity, and is pretty pissed off especially seeing as how NYC is suddenly bathed in unseasonably warm sunshine.

Anyway, besides making sticky Kleenex sculptures for a Chelsea gallery installation, I am amusing myself by starting 30 Rock from Season 1. As much as I dislike Alec Baldwin, personally, for his narcissistic parenting style (see Voicemails, Verbally abusive), I have to admit that his comedy skills on 30 Rock are, well, breathtaking.

Damn you, Al Bal. Don't make me admire your talent so much! Talent makes me so-o-o... Yeah, anyway, so, fortunately it took 5 seconds on Google to be reminded that I only enjoy him when he is working from a killer script.

From an LA Times piece last year:

"A man turns 50 and he has a funeral for the skills that he never had," he said. Baldwin just had that birthday in April. "He says goodbye. I'm never gonna be a cop, never gonna be a professional baseball player, never going to play the piano, a ballet dancer, the leading rusher in the NFL. All those things gone. But! There's other things to do. The world is run by men in their 50s. So I'm trying to decide what to do when I quit this business."

Oh BOO HOO. White, male and middle-aged in Hollywood...What a hostile environment! He must feel like a real loser. Did anybody else catch the recent NYT article noting that packing on pounds doesn't seem to prevent your favorite middle-aged male stars from getting parts? (See Hanks, Tom or Travolta, John). Meanwhile the women of Desperate Housewives all look like Skeletor because being over 40 is crime enough without adding an ounce of flesh to the offense.

Even Baldwin has rounded out since the first season of 30 Rock. And what did it get him? An Emmy.

The one missing observation from the piece is that all these newly chunky hunks still have their hair. Older men with hair can gain 50 pounds and basically get away with murder. In fact, there's actually a great storyline on 30 Rock where Baldwin makes a male subordinate wear a wig because he finds him more appealing that way. It's humiliating and hilarious because it's true.

Just think-- Eliot Spitzer might have kept the governorship if he had more hair. Sure he's thin, but that's not good enough when you're dealing with an Emperor's Club situation. Even hunky Joe Biden has admitted his minty fresh smile wasn't enough to take him all the way to the White House. Although, there is such a thing as too much hair. Blagojevich's overdone bird's nest probably cost him his gubernatorial perch. (Also, he really cranked up the Crazy Knob. That might've been part of it...)

So I started out wanting to talk about comedy, and ended up on weight and hair. Which I suppose are favored topics of humor but... hmm, let me see if I can find a point here...

My point is that Alec Baldwin has hair. No. My point is that Alec Baldwin is deeply gifted but should only speak scripted lines. Yes. Check it out here.

Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist

"Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself."
--William Faulkner

If my aim is to prove I am "enough," the project goes on to infinity-- because the battle was already lost on the day I conceded the issue was debatable.
--Nathaniel Branden