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SHOUTOUTS

to Betty Blue (aka "Jennifer Aniston") from Kaki:

When I first started seeing my delightful s.o. a year-and-a-half ago, he said at one point "Do you tell your friends intimate details about us?" I hedged to the extreme and basically said "no," which was sort of true, if only because 1) we hadn't had time to have too many of those yet, and 2) my best friend and customary intimate-detail repository was at that time out of the country. But the truth is that I wanted to, and finally at one point I said to him "You know, I do talk to some of my friends about our relationship, not in graphic x-rated fashion, but I do, and lots and lots of girls do, and I really don't want to stop, because it is important for us to talk about this stuff with each other." And he was cool with that, and recognized it as a difference (with exceptions, of course) between boys and girls. In fact, we talked for a while about it, and how I felt that for me and my friends it was a way of dealing with the constant nagging feeling that there is something terribly wrong with Women Enjoying Sex (the whole madonna/whore complex, which still lurks beneath the enlightened consciousnesses of my liberated women friends, along with images of supermodels).

So what I'm saying is that IMHO, Brad's getting all pissy because you like to talk to your girlfriend about the relationship (a practice the reasonableness of and even the necessity for is illuminated by his reaction) is totally lame, and is a big L (for "loser") blinking on his forehead. Cool boys understand that the reason women often go to the bathroom in groups is to talk about them, and are okay with it and with the need to relinquish spin control over the relationship. It's one thing to ask a boy/girlfriend not to talk about a deeply personal secret, or to prefer that your intimate moments not become ground for bragging rights, and another to assume control over the narration of a relationship...shared intellectual property if ever there was such a thing.

to Nicole from Lori:

Nicole, when you wrote, "It's not fair for someone else to reap the benefits of my hard labours," I thought that BG's response, "What benefits?" was so right on. I had the same feeling when I broke up with my ex, D. I thought that somehow all the hard work I put into our relationship was going to make D treat his next girlfriend better than he treated me. The truth is, neither D or Kenny has gone on to become stellar examples of husband material due to our blood, sweat and tears. We can't make them better men; they have to do that for themselves. Right now, I'm dating a man who has his act together in nearly all the areas that D didn't. Believe me, the difference between dating a responsible man and an irresponsible man is like the gap between the Grand Canyon. The mule ride across the canyon may be long and painful, but when you make it to the other side, you'll be so glad you did.

to All Business from C:

I too have had experience with unreturned phone calls and stuff returned by mail. However, I write from the other side of the issue.

My ex-fiance left me two months ago. He had some serious emotional baggage from his childhood (he was emotionally and physically abused by his father) and it eventually led to our breakup. We had a fight one night, he told me that he couldn't handle the pain that I was causing him (we had ONE fight, and it was the first major fight of our relationship!!!!), and the next day I came home to our apartment to find that he had moved out while I was at work. His key was under the doormat. To make a long story short, it has been a painful thing to accept, but I'm slowly moving on with my life.

The problem was, we had purchased wedding rings for each other. He still had the one that I had purchased for him, and I had the one he had purchased for me. I talked to the jewelry store, and they agreed to refund my money on the ring that I had bought. So I called my ex, whom I hadn't spoken to since he moved out, and left a message about meeting to switch rings. He never called me back. I tried to get in touch with him for a month, to no avail. Then one day I got this package in the mail. When I opened it, the ring was inside with a note that said, "Here's my mailing address. Send my ring." Now call me crazy, but I was more than a little offended over both his unwillingness to return my phone calls AND the lame way he MAILED his wedding ring back to me. He was man enough to ask me to marry him, he was man enough to leave me after only one disagreement, but he wasn't man enough to meet me face to face so that we could switch rings.

I don't know. I guess mailing back coffee mugs and books is okay. I just wanted to offer the idea that sometimes it it not only rude, but downright insulting to send back someone's stuff through the mail!

From Hayduke to, well, the gal on the train:

Not a question. Just casual reading, if anyone there actually has time for that...

In the interest of journalistic integrity - and because I'm kicking myself -- I feel I must inform you, BG, of a follow-up to shout-out printed in your 5/31 column, slugged "Shy Guy Speaks Out!" which was to my near-horror (because I didn't bother editing it for punctuation/grammatical flubs) excerpted from an e-mail I sent.

This one is: "Shy Guy Clams Up!"

Yes, despite my claims to the contrary in previous e-mail, the shyness does sometimes rear its ugly head. This time at the Carroll St. station (Brooklyn) this past Wednesday.

So there I'm heading to work, it's a little after 10 a.m., it's only 89 degrees and not humid, everything's well (except that I have to work), birds singing in the chain-link fence, you get the picture.

Ahead of me, at the turnstile, a young woman is wrestling her suitcase through. Unfortunately, the bars have already semi-rotated and locked and she's stuck flopping around, sandwiched up against her suitcase, like a trout in a bucket. Puzzling. But... oddly fetching.

I speed up and swipe though so I may turn and help her. Just as I get through she extricates herself, so I look up to give a witty-but-friendly remark... And golly, Gomer, she's purty! All I can see is a great smile, great eyes, dark hair (and some sort of maroon-red-something dress, but I noticed that part as I watched her pitiful struggle with the turnstile). Of course my mind vapor-locks.

I came out with something pretty good, I think -- a verb, anyway -- and bumbled away. But here's the worst part: she threw a joke back at me at her own expense ("I almost didn't make it!") and cracked herself up. A sense of humor! Opening the door to conversation! And I BOLTED! I mean, HIGHTAILED IT!

The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to help her carry her bag down the stairs -- or at least offer -- and she seemed friendly, I'm sure it would have started off my day with a certain glow just to chat for a few minutes -- and I tanked. Flunked.

Now I'm looking for her on the train but -- hey -- it's New York. How often do you see the same person twice on the train? And someone friendly, at that? I don't know, maybe I'll take out an ad on the back page of the Voice (Hm. No, on second thoughts, maybe not.).

Anyway, short story long, I'm still shy.

How about that?

P.S.: Got off the train at 42nd St. and saw a very large tourist-woman fall flat on her face right in front of me. Stopped, helped her up... But it was all just a bitter reminder that I hadn't helped Funny Girl carry her bag down the stairs.

BG responds: ... and also, a feeling of falling-flat-on-face empathy, right? Rats, Hayduke, rats. But hey, look. If there was EVER a situation where Shyguy would show back up, well, that was it. You might have trained yourself to short it out sometimes, but the Shy Circuit's still in your wiring. Chalk it up to a fun/rueful one-that-got-away encounter and give yourself a big loud break. Anyway, sure, you might see here again (why, I see that mouth organ guy on the D train constantly!). I mean -- hey -- it's New York.

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