My Funny Valentine

Not unless they're on ice, baby.

What I'm about to reveal may perplex, even shock you. An admission so potentially astonishing, they could possibly revoke my Gay Card...but here it goes: 6-pack abs creep me out. Not just a little, but a lot. I will presume to be the minority here, as men and women the world over covet the prayerfully taut abdominal region for it's purported aphrodisiac qualities.

Please don't misunderstand. I have absolutely no qualms with muscles. They're quite nice when proportionate (and don't look like they were squeezed through the compression chamber of a spritz maker). Why just the other day I ran into Jon Hamm at the gym, squeezed his left bicep, and told him to keep up the good work. In my own quest for better health and fitness, I've been trying to eat better and workout regularly too- with mixed results. But there's something about the ripped chisel of a 6-pack that reminds me of the reptilian underbelly of an alligator; and who wants to cuddle up (or wrestle, even) with that?

The Curse of St. Valentine

I swear Cupid and I were separated at birth. The subject of love in all its forms continues to fascinate. After 4+ years of blogging you'd think I would have covered it all by now. Not nearly.

I had a mildly confrontational conversation with a dear friend recently, who accused me of busying myself with, well, being busy. Are you ready? To avoid being in a relationship. Seriously. I was like "Hello, are you new here?' I've spent the better part of the last 25 years in relationships, or chasing relationships. Right now I'm chasing dreams. Growing me.

Of course her position was that of most coupled folk. There's always an underlying sense of tragedy, pity even, for those left behind in the dust of their friend's "Just Married" tin can trail. She seemed deeply concerned that I'd let someone great slip through my fingers and miss out on the chance to be as happy as her! I have to admit in all fairness, she is pretty damn happy. Apparently I can't have sex and chew gum at the same time. At this age and stage I realize this truth about myself, and so I've been on a relationship hiatus, if you will.

While it's true that a healthy relationship shouldn't be work per se, anything truly worth growing deserves nurturing. I couldn't even figure out how to schedule a badly needed haircut last week. How could I possibly invest in a budding romance? So you see, I'm not avoiding- I'm respecting. Yet, I'm a lover of love and always will be. The day will arrive (and so will he) and I'll be back in the game. Just not until it's time to play.

Since it's Valentines Day this week, I'll permit myself a moment of fantasy... So what special quality will my future Dream Lover possess? The thing that sets him apart, and lures me out of romantic retirement, and back into love? It won't be a taut tummy, but a sharp sense of humor. Who needs a 6 pack? In the long run, someone who can make you laugh (and relishes in doing so) is worth more than an entire Prada steamer trunk of alligator abs. Isn't that right baby? Yes, as soon as there's a hole in my schedule large enough for a Maine elopement, I'm marrying Zach Galifianakis. You heard it here first.