The Phone Rang

I have such a headache right now and probably shouldn't be writing anything, least of all what I'm about to write, but I've always been one who takes the good with the bad. Which isn't to say that anything you've previously read has been particularly good, just that this is particularly bad.

My older son was arrested yesterday. He was charged with aggravated harrassment (he threatened his ex-girlfriend and, for now, I'll leave it at that) and after a long day in arraignment court, was sent home on probation. He has a number of problems, some typical teenager stuff and some not so typical, so this didn't come as a total surprise. In fact, every time my phone rings, my heart jumps into my throat because this is what I dread and because I knew this was inevitable.

The detective handling the case was nice enough to let me bring my son down to the station early yesterday morning so he wouldn't have to spend the night in jail. Right before we walked inside, I put my arm around him and said that everything was gonna be all right, although that's not the way I felt. He just said, "I know."

Some other cop asked my son to take off his belt, necklace and ring and he casually handed these things to me like he was slipping off his backpack when he comes home from school. We hugged each other, bumped fists and I said I'd see him in court in a little while.

So I drove over to the courthouse and sat for hours, watching dozens of suspected criminals being arraigned, waiting for them to call my son's name. I actually did the same thing last week when I drove him to get his senior yearbook photo taken. He had blown it off three or four times and this was his last chance. He wore a new short-sleeved, white shirt and a thin silver tie that his younger brother had to tie for him, and his hair was a mess and he just looked like such a loser, like the kid in your yearbook that you make fun of 20 years later, and when they called his name it took everything in me not to burst into tears. When they finally called his name yesterday, I no longer felt like crying.

The Most Important Things

Other than pussy jokes, what else do we have in common? Like I said from the start, there's nothing I can't tell you, so let's get to the most important things first -- favorite music and TV shows.

If you're at all knowledgeable about music then you may already know that I'm a major Steely Dan fan. And if you've never heard of SD (hey, Nineteen!), the cleverness of Dr. Woo is gonna be lost on you (as was the joke before it) and you'll also miss out on a lot of other sly song allusions, so maybe in your spare time just Google 'em. "Or drink your big black cow and get out of here."

I also love (in order) Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, James Taylor, Tom Waits, Shawn Colvin, Norah Jones, Dave Matthews and a whole bunch of other artists and bands that you've probably never heard of. My musical taste has often been described as "incredibly gay" (I even like early Elton John, anything before Goodbye Yellow Brick Road) and I'm totally cool with that.

The same goes for TV. I can't wait to see this week's episode of Project Runway (they should've totally kicked off Kenley last week!) and I'm also obsessed with Survivor, The Amazing Race, The Biggest Loser and as long as Bobby Flay's in it, most anything on the Food Network (I'm ready for a throwdown!). Continuing on the food tip, I can't wait for Top Chef and Hell's Kitchen to return and I'll even watch Kitchen Nightmares if nothing else is on.

I'm into a few non-gay shows too, such as (in order) Mad Men (for Betty and Joan), Lost (for Kate and Juliet), The Office (both Pams), 30 Rock (Liz and Cerie), Californication (Karen and Mia), Weeds (MLP), House (13 and Cuddy), Dexter (Rita and Lila), Friday Night Lights (every damn woman on the show) and ER (yes, you read that right, E fucking R! RIP, Mekhi!).

We'll get to movies and books some other time.

Wouldn't It Be Cool

Hey. You look nice today. You did something with your hair, right? Totally works.

I've been thinking about making some changes, too. Like I finally started a diet, so if you do fall in love with me, you don't have to worry about being with some fat pig. I haven't had pizza in a few days (that mozzarella patch seems to be working) and I'm down to a pack a week of my beloved M&M's. I'm really gonna try to stick with it this time and I'm usually successful when I finally make up my mind to do something, although it usually takes a while before I can make up my mind, which is part of my boyish charm. Was that another smile?

When I say "boyish" what I really mean is "man-ish," which sounds kinda gay, which I'm not although I have pretty gay taste in a whole mess of things. On the other hand, I love pussy and firmly believe that that's what separates the men from the other men who don't. And yes, it occurred to me that if I want you to fall in love here, perhaps I shouldn't throw around "pussy" all that much (who do I think I am, Sarah Silverman?) but then I thought wouldn't it be cool if you didn't mind me flinging it all willy-nilly, if you might even like that I do?

Not including Sarah S. (who I am so over), do you exist? And do you have a nice pussy? I can make that joke because I know you wouldn't mind.

Are You With Me?

You seem like someone I can trust, someone I can really talk to. That doesn't happen with me very often. I'm usually on the shy, quiet side. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty to say. I'm just not one of those guys who needs to hear the sound of his own voice all of the time, but being here with you now feels different. So here goes . . .

What would you think if I told you that you'll fall in love with me, that we're destined to be together, that we're the perfect fit? No, I'm not kidding and you're not drunk. I haven't fully thought this through yet but maybe for once that'll be a good thing. All I can tell you is that, at some point in time, you will fall in love with me and you'll fall hard and when that happens, I'll be there to . . . look under your dress. Was that a smile?

I know what you're thinking, "Who does this creepy bastard think he is?" Let me assure you that I'm neither creepy or bastard-y (although the more I say I'm not creepy, the creepier I sound). On the Guy Approval Matrix, I'm probably floating somewhere between Needy and Pathetic, the good, non-creepy, sometimes almost appealing type of pathetic.

If you're still with me, maybe you find this a tiny bit intriguing because there's nothing good on TV right now or you're bored at work and this is as good a distraction as any. Or maybe you're a little like me and you wanna believe that things in your life can be so much better. What's better than falling in love? And even though you weren't looking for this, maybe this is exactly what you were looking for.