There’s a 90% chance that a woman I used to work for will run for president of the United States in 2016. Can you guess who she is?
I’m taking HIH’s advice. I’m going to dial back on the online dating. I’ve been thinking about deleting my profile for the past few days. When you join a dating site, it’s like being thrown into a tank of hungry piranhas. You’re new meat and the piranhas have been waiting to pounce on a new feast. I need to live life and see what happens. I’m tired of the trips down disappointment drive.
I think the worst part of dating is telling a guy you want to keep it on the friend level. I dread these conversations. I can’t create feelings that aren’t there but I don’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings. I know it’s best to have a conversation and be honest about my feelings but sometimes I just wish the guy would magically go away.
Cindi asked me to attend a dinner on Saturday night benefitting one of the local AIDS charities. The dinner kicked off a fundraising campaign for construction of a new building. As a past president of the charity’s board, Cindi was asked invite people to the dinner. Most of the local gay movers and shakers were there along with the mayor and few other dignitaries. I arrived just before the dinner started. Cindi was seated to my left while a very handsome forty-something man was seated to my right. The handsome man owned a PR company. Within a few minutes I found out he kept kosher, was married to a woman and had two teenage children. I’m at a dinner with at least two hundred gay men and I get seated next to a married straight man. Just my luck. At least he was good looking and kept the table conversation entertaining.
Friday night I had dinner with Mike, Chris and Connie at El Noa Noa on Santa Fe before taking in a few gallery shows. It’s Month of Photography here so most galleries have photography exhibits. Point, as always, has a good show as well as Core. Brenda LaBrier had an opening at Sync. Jackie introduced me to Brenda a few years ago and Kara reintroduced me to her a few weeks ago. Brenda has stunning large format self-portraits. Mark Sink, a photographer, art consultant and founder of Month of Photography, curated the exhibit at Spark. This is one show not to miss.
After Santa Fe we headed over to Navajo Street to check out the Zoa Ace opening at Zip37. Mike had bought a Zoa Ace painting at a charity event so I thought he would like to see her show. The show did not disappoint. It was colorful, whimsical and typical Zoa. Mike and Chris liked one of her painting but it had already sold.
I ran into Jessy at Zip37. She was one of the founding members of Pirate Gallery. Jesse is an eccentric figure on the local art scene. She’s at every opening and if you catch her late in the evening she’s usually had a few, almost too many. Jessie was telling me about a disagreement with another artist when she said, “He knew me when I was a guy.” I always thought Jesse had made the transition but it’s not something you would want to ask. It was no big deal it was just part of the conversation.
I’m surprised I was able to drag the crew through eight galleries. Connie has lived in Denver for twenty-something years but had never been in any of the galleries. Shopping is her thing. Connie knows Cherry Creek Mall like the back of her hand. I wonder if I can get them to go to the RiNo gallery openings next weekend.
My brother was on a business trip this week to the city in Indiana where our sister lives. Two weeks before the trip, my brother emailed our sister with an offer to take her out to dinner for her 60th birthday. My brother was in her city for four days. Our sister never replied to his email. She didn’t call with an explanation either. My brother was disappointed in our sister’s behavior. I told my brother that it’s just another example of why our sister needs professional psychiatric help.
In other dysfunctional family news, it’s been two weeks since I talked to my mother. My mother did not want me to call her because she would call me when she wanted to talk. Yesterday, my brother was at the rehab center. My mother was bitching about everything. My brother was at his breaking point so he called me and walked out of the room after handing the phone to my mother. My mother cried and complained about difficulties of the exercises. When it was clear I was not going to feel sorry for my mother she ended the call.
I’m thankful I live eight hundred miles away.
The 37-year-old wealth manager gave me the boot. I didn’t text for three days so, in his view, I was not interested. I guess I’m not up to speed on the current rules for texting etiquette. Just because I don’t text for three days doesn’t mean I’m not interested. We met for lunch once. To me, that doesn’t mean I have to text on a frequent basis. I got the impression he’s clingy, needy and desperate. I could be wrong.