Saturday, December 15, 2012

Good picture of my SUP buddy at La Jolla Shores

We need to name an elementary school after Dawn Hochsprung now. 

Happy 50th Birthday to New York Jets coach, Rex Ryan, last week. You can still get him a present, he is registered at Bed, Bath and Beyond Hope.

Since you asked:

How can I put this nicely? 

Last night, in a dream, the ghost of an old high school girlfriend past was finally liberated.

With the exception of my first high school girlfriend, the aptly named Betsy Fox, who was a sweetheart in every way, my suburban Chicago high school girlfriends tended towards pretty, wholesome, cheerleader types, but rich, snotty and more than a little mean.

From birth they seemed to be programed by their overbearing country club mothers to leverage their relationship with men to insure they live in the style with which they have grown accustomed. (That is as nicely as I can put it without using a word that rhymes with bold bigger)

Again, some of the nicest women I have ever known came from my hometown, but I, for reasons I don't know, did not date them. 

Conversely, my girlfriends in college were just as pretty as my high school girlfriends, if not prettier, many also grew up in affluent homes in Newport Beach, San Marino, and Marin County, and yet they were not manipulative or duplicitous at all.

Why the major difference thanks to 2,000 miles? Who knows?

One high school girl I dated was particularly, shall I say, confident in such a way it made her wildly intriguing. Remember that awful 70's song "Fox On The Run"? That was her. 

So when we broke up - OK, she broke up with me- she made me feel like I was not qualified to be her boyfriend. Thanks for stopping by, we’ll call you if there is an opening.

That one stung. And it stung for a long time. 

Last night, in my dream, I saw her as I would see her now, not as a 17-year-old heartbroken frustrated insecure virgin saw her. And - how do I say this nicely? - it was such a huge relief we had not continued our relationship.

Uh, uh, buh-bye. 

Thank you, Virg. 

(Cue: Beach Boys "God Only Knows"