my journey to be my best self

reading: it’s fundamental

In relationships, Uncategorized on March 16, 2011 at 11:01 pm

There is a new phenomenon where men no longer read.  Maybe it’s not really a phenomenon.  Maybe I’m just expecting too much.  Really? I met a man and the first time we went out I asked him what the last thing he read was and he said, “I don’t read.”  He’s a 32 year old black man, he went to Syracuse and has been working as an accountant in Boston for the last 5 years.  So it’s impossible he can’t read, right?  When I asked him what he meant he said he probably hasn’t read since junior high school. Damn. That first date should have probably been the last date.

The next time we had dinner (at my apartment because I can’t eat out) we were talking about movies and I asked him if he realized that the heist in The Town mirrored the heist in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.  He was silent. So I asked if he knew about the heist and he said he hadn’t. Ok. But when I asked if he had been to the museum he said he had never been.  He said he doesn’t like art.  Wow.  The worst part is when I asked him what he is interested he said, “men spend 90% of their time trying to get at girls: getting haircuts, washing their cars.” 90%? No. That can’t be right.  So I started thinking about all of the men I know.  They all have interests. Period.  So I tried to ask him in another way, explaining his interests don’t have to be my interests.  After a long, exhausting conversation I came to the conclusion he has no interests.  And if he has not interests I cannot be interested in him.

At least I have my friends at home.  Last night I attended Artini, an event hosted by the 1869 Society benefiting the Corcoran Art Gallery at Tabard Inn.  Each participating venue features a martini inspired by a piece of art and they donate 20% of its bar sales to support upcoming exhibitions at the Corcoran. Perfect. I like art and I like martinis.

We left there and went to Twins Jazz on U Street.  To see/hear some jazz click here:

Besides the fact that there was a $10 cover charge that I didn’t know about until the bill for my rum punch came, I enjoyed a night of jazz in a dark, intimate room with friends.  I am most grateful that I have friends that I can spend nights like these with.  Because it’s not looking good with the people I am meeting in Boston.  At least the men.

  1. lmao at the blank stare I know you gave dude (love this blog, Lo). keep it up.

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