So, there I was, sitting at the Brahmin, waiting for speed dating to start. The Drunkie's recent outburst made me begin to question what I was actually doing there. However, it did seem to break the tension in the room. We began to laugh at the whole situation and how absurd it was. I goofy-smiled back at Goofy Smile guy. The guys, armed with rum-soaked courage, began to mingle amongst the ladies and sit across from us. We all determined that the Drunkie's tantrum was her own show for the cameras, the joke being on her because they weren't actually on yet. I was praying that neither Townie 1 nor Townie 2 would move their seats over to my table, and my prayers were answered as they were too involved in calling out for more shots and high-fiving each other.
By this point, I was exhausted. It was now coming up to 8:15 p.m. and I was getting sleepy and tired of just sitting around. The only thing stopping me from curling up on the booth bench and taking a nap was a vision of the remnants of vomit and sweat lurking on the vinyl.
And then, a tall, handsome man walked in. He was dressed impeccably. He flashed a killer smile at me as he walked by. He clearly knew the two bartenders, as they said hi to him when he arrived, and he walked over to say hello to them. I couldn't tell if he was there for the speed-dating event, or just to hang out. After speaking with the bartenders for a couple of minutes, he came back over and looked at the food spread (kept minimal so as not to soak up our alcohol content for the show). Then, he came over and sat next to me and said, "Hi, I'm Dre". Dre obviously had also been drinking, and when I questioned him about it, he admitted that he had been to the Bruins game earlier that day and had consumed large amounts of tequila since then.
Dre was charming and handsome, but I very quickly realized that he was the African American equivalent of Crazy Pete. He was very open about sharing facts such as "the number of women I've banged", "how many drinks I've had today", and "the amount of money I've dropped". As I find Crazy Pete-like antics endearing, this was not a complete turnoff for me and I found it more amusing than anything. But, I definitely didn't see any romance in our future.
Since Black Crazy Pete was so drunk in public, I assumed that he was in his 20's. I asked him how old he was and was shocked when he said 41. I asked what he did for work, and he told me that he was a bartender. Imagine my surprise, as the night went on and he admitted that he had gone to Brown. SCREEECH! Back it up. "Why on earth would you waste $250,000 to go to Brown and become a bartender. You can get a college degree anywhere and become a bartender." His answer: Full Academic Scholarship.
Ok, so Black Crazy Pete was growing on me. I hate to think that it was because I realized that he was smart, but I think that's what it was. I dig smart guys. However, I do not dig playboys, and it was clear that that's exactly what he was. He kept telling me that I seemed "proper" and "rigid". That I should give him a shot in the bedroom. He asked me hypothetically speaking, if I were his wife...he would need sex every night. Could I provide that? I get tired of talking to guys when it seems that all they want is in my pants, so after about an hour of speaking with Black Crazy Pete (It's now 9:15 pm, if you're keeping track), I finally yelled out to the Camera Guys that Be and said, "What time are we going to start this thing?" Sensing that I was very close to walking out and that a lot of the girls would be with me, the Camera Guys that Be all answered at once with remarks such as "Thank you so much for your patience." "We're almost all set here" "Just another couple of minutes."
But, you see, even though we actually did start a few minutes later, we were at an awkward impasse. We had all been talking to each other for about an hour and a half. Anything that we were going to learn in 8 minutes, we already knew. And as I mentioned before, the guys had been taking full advantage of the open bar (maybe from nervousness about their television debut), to the point where some were having issues forming coherent sentences and some focusing their eyes in one direction. To make matters worse, when the Date and Dash guy announced that we would be starting soon, Black Crazy Pete yelled out, "What if you've already found your soul mate?" and looked at me. And all the guys said, "awwww." All of the sudden, I was Slater at the Bachelor Auction after Jessi Spano threatened all the girls so that no one would bid on him. So, I finally admitted to myself what I had known all along...this was not going to be a successful speed dating experience.
We went through the motions of speed dating. I spoke with Goofy Smile guy who was weirded out by the whole night and everyone in the room. Lumberjack Flannel tried to fix me up with his friend. Stylish Tall Guy in Awesome Sweater was drunkenly rambling about Elvis and the South or something...I couldn't really follow it. And my last date of the night...Black Crazy Pete.
I ended up giving Black Crazy Pete my phone number, but as I made it quite clear that I don't jump into bed with random guys, I doubt that he will be calling. (It's been a week and a half and he hasn't yet). I did a little bit of googlegating and found out that not only is he a "bartender", he actually owns the bar that he tends at. It's a well known bar in Faneuil Hall and explains the Brown education (and subsequent MBA).
As I left the room, I passed Townie 1 who said, "Hey! I didn't get a chance to talk to you!" And I tossed an "Aw, shucks" over my shoulder.
The night wasn't a total loss however....the Date and Dash guy walked me out and said, "You're so nice. Thank you so much for putting up with all this. I also have a matchmaking business and I'd like to set you up with someone"...so I did get a date out of it, just not the way that I planned.
Boston's Finest premieres on Feb. 27 on TNT, and if you tune in, at some point in the series, you might catch a glimpse of me, scratching my nose or sitting on a bench or something equally exciting. Or, you never know, like Black Crazy Pete, Boston's Finest may leave me on the cutting room floor when they decide there's nothing they can work with.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Melly J., Reality TV Star!! Extra, Part 2
When we last left our heroine, she was sitting at Table Number 3 at the Brahmin, in front of the camera crew for TNT's Boston Finest, waiting for the speed date to begin. The event was supposed to start at 7:30. If you've never been to a speed dating event, here's what happens. The girls sit at a numbered table. Then, they put a guy at each table. You "date" for 8 minutes, someone blows the whistle and the guys all move down one table. At the end of the night, each person writes down who they were interested in, and if there's a match, the speed dating people exchange your information. It typically doesn't take more than an hour. I figured that I'd be home by 9:30 and in bed by ten.
Because I was there a bit early, I was able to sit back and peruse the "merchandise" as it walked in the door. A couple of the guys were cute and looked like really nice guys. There was Adorable Goofy Smile guy. Lumberjacky Guy in Flannel with Beard. Stylish Tall Guy in Awesome Sweater. I was looking forward to meeting them. As they walked in, they all assembled near the bar area across the room from us. The two groups, guys and girls, kept stealing glances at each other, but we weren't mingling or talking to each other. It was like an awkward middle school dance, except there were also five or six guys holding television cameras milling around.
I began a conversation with the girl sitting next to me. We made small talk. She asked if I knew anything about the show and we shared the knowledge that we each had (which wasn't much). As it was already 7:45, she asked if I had done speed dating before and if it usually started late. I told her that I had and it didn't. We surmised that they may be waiting for more people to show up before they start.
We were curious about who the girl was that they were filming. We hadn't seen the cameras pointed at anyone yet. We were also still a bit suspicious about why we were really there. The TV people had been a little too forthcoming with the information that we did have. All of the sudden, two blondes walked in the door. The first walked in with confidence and the camera guys seemed to jump to life, so I assumed that this was our TV star. She sat next to me at Table 4. My stomach flipped a little bit when I thought that I would definitely be in the camera shot the whole time if this was the girl. But, then, she leaned into me and said, "Are you the girl cop?" I realized very quickly by her breath that her confidence was all liquid and if she was asking me if I was the cop, then this couldn't be the girl.
I began to become more suspicious of what we were doing there. We had now been sitting around for a half-hour. This girl next to me was clearly wasted. The camera people were all sitting around and watching us. The guys were on one side of the room and the girls were seated at the other. Maybe this was some kind of weird psychological experiment? How long would we wait around for before we got fed up and stormed out? Would the genders ever start mingling together? What if there was an endless amount of alcohol? Just what would these crazy people do?? I mean, THAT sounded like a great reality show.
To add to my suspicion, at this point, two guys, who I will refer to as "Townie 1 and Townie 2" came in a few minutes later. When you think of the typical Boston guy persona, these are the guys that fit it. There was a "business casual" dress code for this event. They came in wearing ratty t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, all of which were three or four sizes too big. Townie 1 was the "mouth". He led the way and yelled, "Let's get this pah-ty stah-ted!"as he walked into the room. Townie 2 didn't say a word and stood next to him with a blank, empty look on his face. Townie 1 and Townie 2 walked up to the bar, did a couple of shots and then ordered two jack and cokes and sat across from the Drunkie Next To Me and her friend.
At this point, we were coming up on 8:15. We had been sitting there for 45 minutes waiting for this to start. The girls were getting impatient. The guys were getting drunk. No one was saying a word and the only sound was the house music playing in the lounge. Suddenly, the Drunkie Next To Me yelled at Townie 1, "How could you say something like that to me??? F*** you! F*** YOU!" and got up and marched to the door. She turned back to her friend, who was sitting there open-mouthed, and yelled, "Get my purse." The friend sat there stunned. "Get my F***-ING purse!!" she yelled one last time and stormed out. We all turned to the friend to see what she was going to do. The friend sheepishly and silently grabbed the purse on the bench and followed her out.
I turned to the girl on the other side of me and said, "There's definitely something fishy going on here." Was the Drunkie's tantrum all an act? Will we ever get to speed-date? Will any of the guys be sober enough to talk to? Tune in for Part 3...
Because I was there a bit early, I was able to sit back and peruse the "merchandise" as it walked in the door. A couple of the guys were cute and looked like really nice guys. There was Adorable Goofy Smile guy. Lumberjacky Guy in Flannel with Beard. Stylish Tall Guy in Awesome Sweater. I was looking forward to meeting them. As they walked in, they all assembled near the bar area across the room from us. The two groups, guys and girls, kept stealing glances at each other, but we weren't mingling or talking to each other. It was like an awkward middle school dance, except there were also five or six guys holding television cameras milling around.
I began a conversation with the girl sitting next to me. We made small talk. She asked if I knew anything about the show and we shared the knowledge that we each had (which wasn't much). As it was already 7:45, she asked if I had done speed dating before and if it usually started late. I told her that I had and it didn't. We surmised that they may be waiting for more people to show up before they start.
We were curious about who the girl was that they were filming. We hadn't seen the cameras pointed at anyone yet. We were also still a bit suspicious about why we were really there. The TV people had been a little too forthcoming with the information that we did have. All of the sudden, two blondes walked in the door. The first walked in with confidence and the camera guys seemed to jump to life, so I assumed that this was our TV star. She sat next to me at Table 4. My stomach flipped a little bit when I thought that I would definitely be in the camera shot the whole time if this was the girl. But, then, she leaned into me and said, "Are you the girl cop?" I realized very quickly by her breath that her confidence was all liquid and if she was asking me if I was the cop, then this couldn't be the girl.
I began to become more suspicious of what we were doing there. We had now been sitting around for a half-hour. This girl next to me was clearly wasted. The camera people were all sitting around and watching us. The guys were on one side of the room and the girls were seated at the other. Maybe this was some kind of weird psychological experiment? How long would we wait around for before we got fed up and stormed out? Would the genders ever start mingling together? What if there was an endless amount of alcohol? Just what would these crazy people do?? I mean, THAT sounded like a great reality show.
To add to my suspicion, at this point, two guys, who I will refer to as "Townie 1 and Townie 2" came in a few minutes later. When you think of the typical Boston guy persona, these are the guys that fit it. There was a "business casual" dress code for this event. They came in wearing ratty t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, all of which were three or four sizes too big. Townie 1 was the "mouth". He led the way and yelled, "Let's get this pah-ty stah-ted!"as he walked into the room. Townie 2 didn't say a word and stood next to him with a blank, empty look on his face. Townie 1 and Townie 2 walked up to the bar, did a couple of shots and then ordered two jack and cokes and sat across from the Drunkie Next To Me and her friend.
At this point, we were coming up on 8:15. We had been sitting there for 45 minutes waiting for this to start. The girls were getting impatient. The guys were getting drunk. No one was saying a word and the only sound was the house music playing in the lounge. Suddenly, the Drunkie Next To Me yelled at Townie 1, "How could you say something like that to me??? F*** you! F*** YOU!" and got up and marched to the door. She turned back to her friend, who was sitting there open-mouthed, and yelled, "Get my purse." The friend sat there stunned. "Get my F***-ING purse!!" she yelled one last time and stormed out. We all turned to the friend to see what she was going to do. The friend sheepishly and silently grabbed the purse on the bench and followed her out.
I turned to the girl on the other side of me and said, "There's definitely something fishy going on here." Was the Drunkie's tantrum all an act? Will we ever get to speed-date? Will any of the guys be sober enough to talk to? Tune in for Part 3...
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Melly J., Reality TV Star!! Extra, Part 1
I received an e-mail from Date and Dash asking me if I wanted to attend a free speed-dating event. I saw "free" and immediately said yes. When they sent me the details of the event, I scanned through and my eyes stopped at one sentence: "This will be filmed for a television segment." WHAT?? I started to freak out a bit. This was taking an already stressful event and skydiving it parachute-less into a lion-surrounded, piranha-covered, anthrax-powdered, burning ring of fire. What if I was signing up for a reality show? What if it was like one of those shows where you think you'll be speed-dating, but then they offer you $1000 to eat an elephant testicle or something? I didn't want to look stupid(er). I almost backed out. But, then I started to think...what if it's not any of that? What if it's actually Dateline or 20/20 or Good Morning America. And they're doing a segment on dating. And then they become so engaged by me after interviewing me and realize that the camera LOVES me so much, that they decide to turn it into a docu-series, starring me and I become an overnight sensation and end up trading witty banter with Ellen DeGeneres, and then some movie producer sees it and believes that he's looking at the next America's Sweetheart and I blow up and a year from now I'm accepting my Oscar. I decided that it was worth a shot.
I arrived at the The Brahmin and the Date and Dash guy met me at the door. He signed me in and then called over the television people. They took my picture, had me sign a release, and told me about what would be happening that night. Yes, it was a reality show. No, they didn't care about having me on it. It was called Boston's Finest, premiering on TNT next month, produced by Donnie Wahlberg, and it was following a female police officer in Boston who was "looking for love". The guys would all be miked and they would be the ones on the show, as they would be "dating" the girl that the show was focusing on. The girls would all be in the background. While I was a little bit disappointed that I may not get a shot at film success, I was a bit relieved as well. The potential for me to say something ridiculously dumb on national television was eliminated. It was up to the men for that.
When we went down the stairs into the lounge area, where the numbered tables were set up, they sat me down at number 3. And here is when my first suspicion about reality television was confirmed. They get you liquored up on purpose. They gave us all drink tickets. Typically drink tickets are good for beer or wine or cheap vodka only. Our drink tickets were good for anything behind the bar. A double of Johnnie Walker Blue? Sure, did you want that neat or on the rocks? Dom Perignon White Gold? I have some chilling right over here for you. Because the more you drink, the dumber you act, and the better television it makes.
Also, I had always suspected that reality television was scripted. I just didn't know HOW scripted! They do re-takes. If it doesn't come out the way they want it the first time, they film it again. The Date and Dash guy had to go through his "how we speed-date" speech twice and we all looked interested like he was saying it for the first time, both times. They even had the guys re-do their 8 minutes of dating a few times.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. The "reality" is that while this thing was supposed to start at 7:30, around 9:00, it still hadn't begun. The boys had been enjoying their drinks a little too much and were so hammered by this point, that I didn't even really want to talk to any of them. The atmosphere was awkward as we weren't sure whether we were supposed to mingle, or wait for the official speed date to start. So, we all just sat there looking at each other. When people get drunk and impatient and feel awkward, it breeds drama. Tune in for Part 2 to watch the drama unfold...
I arrived at the The Brahmin and the Date and Dash guy met me at the door. He signed me in and then called over the television people. They took my picture, had me sign a release, and told me about what would be happening that night. Yes, it was a reality show. No, they didn't care about having me on it. It was called Boston's Finest, premiering on TNT next month, produced by Donnie Wahlberg, and it was following a female police officer in Boston who was "looking for love". The guys would all be miked and they would be the ones on the show, as they would be "dating" the girl that the show was focusing on. The girls would all be in the background. While I was a little bit disappointed that I may not get a shot at film success, I was a bit relieved as well. The potential for me to say something ridiculously dumb on national television was eliminated. It was up to the men for that.
When we went down the stairs into the lounge area, where the numbered tables were set up, they sat me down at number 3. And here is when my first suspicion about reality television was confirmed. They get you liquored up on purpose. They gave us all drink tickets. Typically drink tickets are good for beer or wine or cheap vodka only. Our drink tickets were good for anything behind the bar. A double of Johnnie Walker Blue? Sure, did you want that neat or on the rocks? Dom Perignon White Gold? I have some chilling right over here for you. Because the more you drink, the dumber you act, and the better television it makes.
Also, I had always suspected that reality television was scripted. I just didn't know HOW scripted! They do re-takes. If it doesn't come out the way they want it the first time, they film it again. The Date and Dash guy had to go through his "how we speed-date" speech twice and we all looked interested like he was saying it for the first time, both times. They even had the guys re-do their 8 minutes of dating a few times.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. The "reality" is that while this thing was supposed to start at 7:30, around 9:00, it still hadn't begun. The boys had been enjoying their drinks a little too much and were so hammered by this point, that I didn't even really want to talk to any of them. The atmosphere was awkward as we weren't sure whether we were supposed to mingle, or wait for the official speed date to start. So, we all just sat there looking at each other. When people get drunk and impatient and feel awkward, it breeds drama. Tune in for Part 2 to watch the drama unfold...
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Chapter 7
I've mentioned that a male friend of mine has expressed that he would be concerned about dating me for fear that he'd end up in the blog. It's that sort of attitude that makes me hesitate before bringing it up when I'm dating someone new.
But, back when this was a book idea rather than a blog idea, I found myself talking about it on a first date. Looking back, I'm not quite sure what I saw in this guy in the first place. He was a smoker. He was unemployed. He had an affinity for Hawaiian shirts. And by "affinity", I mean that he wore one every single day. That's not hyperbole...he literally wore a Hawaiian shirt every single day. And so, for the sake of this story, let's call him Magnum, P.I.
Magnum, P.I. and I were discussing our hobbies, and I mentioned that I like to write and, at the time, was working on a book about unusual dating experiences. I stopped short in midsentence, thinking that this would not lead into good first date material. But, Magnum, P.I. surprised me by saying, "That is cool! Maybe I'll end up being in your book someday." To which I replied, "Yeah, who knows, you might be Chapter 7." And we laughed and laughed.
Magnum, P.I. was definitely fun to talk to, and he was very cute, so for the moment I was willing to look past the Hawaiian shirt, smoking, and lack of employment. We made our second date for trivia at his local bar.
The day that we were to get together for our second date, Magnum, P.I. called me on the phone. He told me that he had been doing a lot of thinking and had a really great idea that he would tell me all about when he saw me later that night. I couldn't wait to hear all about it.
I arrived first and grabbed a seat at the bar. Magnum, P.I. followed five minutes later, reeking of cigarettes, and wearing yet another Hawaiian shirt. After we made small talk for a little while, I said, "So, I can't wait to hear about this idea of yours!" Magnum, P.I. took a deep breath and said,
"I've been thinking a lot about your book idea. I think it's a good idea. In fact, I think it's a GREAT idea. I have a lot of marketing experience and I have a proposal for you. What if we wrote the book together? We could kind of do it as a dating 101 book. What to do and what not to do. And we could do it from 'his perspective' vs. 'her perspective. I think this book could be really big!"
Instead of thinking what I should have been thinking, which was "This guy has a lot of dreams for something that was my idea. And he might just be borderline delusional," I was thinking "Wow, this guy must really be interested in me if he's trying to make this into a long-term relationship of some sort. I think I'm interested in him too."
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, I dated Magnum, P.I. I say that "I" dated him, rather than "we" dated because I think I was the only one of the two of us carrying through the dating action. Everytime we'd see each other, I would ask him more about his family, his life, his hopes, his dreams. And he would ask me more about whether I thought we should include a chapter on picking people up in random places, or just stick to what happens after you've gotten the date. It was when he told me that he had bought Dragon Voice Recognition software so that he could transcribe his writing ideas more quickly that I began to really think... He was awfully serious about this book thing. I mean, I had been "writing a book" for the past five years. But, within two weeks, he had actually gone out and gotten a voice recorder so that he could put his thoughts into words faster. And why did he talk about the book non-stop? Wasn't he curious about other things that were happening in my life? Was it possible that Magnum, P.I. was only into me for the book?
I began to pay closer attention to what was happening when we were together. And I noticed that he was all about the book all the time. Instead of e-mailing me, asking about my day, he was e-mailing the latest chapter that he had just finished. Whenever I called him, he would make me listen to endless rambling about past dates he had had and would ask whether I thought they were book-worthy. One day, I couldn't bear it anymore. I just came out and asked him. "Magnum," I said, "it seems to me that you're more interested in writing this book with me than actually dating me." He looked down for a second and then said, "Yeah, I think that's probably true. I'm just not ready for a relationship. I really enjoy my single life. I need to stay that way. And it's tough for me to feel an emotional connection with women. But, I think the book is a great idea for a business venture and I want to stay friends, so that I can write it with you."
I was floored. I half-joking when I said that it seemed that he was dating me for an unwritten book. But, here he was telling me that I was right on the money! He was actually keeping the relationship going for a book that I probably was never ever going to write because I'm too lazy. I told him that I would think about it, but the more that I did, I realized, I didn't want to share my book with him! One, he was a horrible writer. Two, as he was unemployed, he didn't really have anything else to do, and I think he saw this as a meal ticket. Three, that was weird. The writing was just a fun hobby that I picked up to entertain my friends. I was never thinking that I was going to cash in and become the next Carrie Bradshaw. And I began to think that Magnum, P.I. may not have been playing with a fully stringed ukulele.
So, the next day, I e-mailed this to Magnum, P.I.:
"I gave a lot of thought last night about continuing to co-author the book. To be honest, I'm just not ready to be in a committed business relationship. :( I really enjoy being a single writer and I think for now, I need to stay that way. It's just tough for me to feel an emotional connection to the book like you do. I hope you can understand and I really do want to still be friends."
Magnum, P.I. did not take this well. We went back and forth over e-mail for a while. "Melly, you're not being fair. You are crushing my lucrative profitable dreams." "Magnum, you can write your own book." After a couple of days, the pleading stopped. And besides one desperate attempt to connect with me on linkedin and become one of his seven connections, I haven't heard from him since.
And what do you know, he became "Chapter 7" after all.
But, back when this was a book idea rather than a blog idea, I found myself talking about it on a first date. Looking back, I'm not quite sure what I saw in this guy in the first place. He was a smoker. He was unemployed. He had an affinity for Hawaiian shirts. And by "affinity", I mean that he wore one every single day. That's not hyperbole...he literally wore a Hawaiian shirt every single day. And so, for the sake of this story, let's call him Magnum, P.I.
Magnum, P.I. and I were discussing our hobbies, and I mentioned that I like to write and, at the time, was working on a book about unusual dating experiences. I stopped short in midsentence, thinking that this would not lead into good first date material. But, Magnum, P.I. surprised me by saying, "That is cool! Maybe I'll end up being in your book someday." To which I replied, "Yeah, who knows, you might be Chapter 7." And we laughed and laughed.
Magnum, P.I. was definitely fun to talk to, and he was very cute, so for the moment I was willing to look past the Hawaiian shirt, smoking, and lack of employment. We made our second date for trivia at his local bar.
The day that we were to get together for our second date, Magnum, P.I. called me on the phone. He told me that he had been doing a lot of thinking and had a really great idea that he would tell me all about when he saw me later that night. I couldn't wait to hear all about it.
I arrived first and grabbed a seat at the bar. Magnum, P.I. followed five minutes later, reeking of cigarettes, and wearing yet another Hawaiian shirt. After we made small talk for a little while, I said, "So, I can't wait to hear about this idea of yours!" Magnum, P.I. took a deep breath and said,
"I've been thinking a lot about your book idea. I think it's a good idea. In fact, I think it's a GREAT idea. I have a lot of marketing experience and I have a proposal for you. What if we wrote the book together? We could kind of do it as a dating 101 book. What to do and what not to do. And we could do it from 'his perspective' vs. 'her perspective. I think this book could be really big!"
Instead of thinking what I should have been thinking, which was "This guy has a lot of dreams for something that was my idea. And he might just be borderline delusional," I was thinking "Wow, this guy must really be interested in me if he's trying to make this into a long-term relationship of some sort. I think I'm interested in him too."
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, I dated Magnum, P.I. I say that "I" dated him, rather than "we" dated because I think I was the only one of the two of us carrying through the dating action. Everytime we'd see each other, I would ask him more about his family, his life, his hopes, his dreams. And he would ask me more about whether I thought we should include a chapter on picking people up in random places, or just stick to what happens after you've gotten the date. It was when he told me that he had bought Dragon Voice Recognition software so that he could transcribe his writing ideas more quickly that I began to really think... He was awfully serious about this book thing. I mean, I had been "writing a book" for the past five years. But, within two weeks, he had actually gone out and gotten a voice recorder so that he could put his thoughts into words faster. And why did he talk about the book non-stop? Wasn't he curious about other things that were happening in my life? Was it possible that Magnum, P.I. was only into me for the book?
I began to pay closer attention to what was happening when we were together. And I noticed that he was all about the book all the time. Instead of e-mailing me, asking about my day, he was e-mailing the latest chapter that he had just finished. Whenever I called him, he would make me listen to endless rambling about past dates he had had and would ask whether I thought they were book-worthy. One day, I couldn't bear it anymore. I just came out and asked him. "Magnum," I said, "it seems to me that you're more interested in writing this book with me than actually dating me." He looked down for a second and then said, "Yeah, I think that's probably true. I'm just not ready for a relationship. I really enjoy my single life. I need to stay that way. And it's tough for me to feel an emotional connection with women. But, I think the book is a great idea for a business venture and I want to stay friends, so that I can write it with you."
I was floored. I half-joking when I said that it seemed that he was dating me for an unwritten book. But, here he was telling me that I was right on the money! He was actually keeping the relationship going for a book that I probably was never ever going to write because I'm too lazy. I told him that I would think about it, but the more that I did, I realized, I didn't want to share my book with him! One, he was a horrible writer. Two, as he was unemployed, he didn't really have anything else to do, and I think he saw this as a meal ticket. Three, that was weird. The writing was just a fun hobby that I picked up to entertain my friends. I was never thinking that I was going to cash in and become the next Carrie Bradshaw. And I began to think that Magnum, P.I. may not have been playing with a fully stringed ukulele.
So, the next day, I e-mailed this to Magnum, P.I.:
"I gave a lot of thought last night about continuing to co-author the book. To be honest, I'm just not ready to be in a committed business relationship. :( I really enjoy being a single writer and I think for now, I need to stay that way. It's just tough for me to feel an emotional connection to the book like you do. I hope you can understand and I really do want to still be friends."
Magnum, P.I. did not take this well. We went back and forth over e-mail for a while. "Melly, you're not being fair. You are crushing my lucrative profitable dreams." "Magnum, you can write your own book." After a couple of days, the pleading stopped. And besides one desperate attempt to connect with me on linkedin and become one of his seven connections, I haven't heard from him since.
And what do you know, he became "Chapter 7" after all.
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