Whatever Happened to Tom? (my Puccini moment)

A couple of people have asked me "what ever happened with Tom?" And I have been reluctant to tell the rest of the story. I have been torn by wanting to tell the truth (the whole truth) or - dolling it up to make it look a little better. As I was doing the dishes just now, listening to Puccini, I was moved almost to tears (as usual) and felt swayed and inspired by the incredibly emotional music. I guess I'm spilling the whole story. There are those of you who will not approve of certain things in this one, and I beg you NOT to read on. If you are one of those readers who knows me from afar, wants to keep me in a precious bubble - this is NOT the blog for you. As always - I welcome your thoughts, good and bad. And, as usual, I am unable to resist answering a question about one of these stories. I love the interaction, it is why I decided to do this in 'blog' form.

So, I left off with me going away to Interlochen, and Tom going to college.
We didn't really keep in touch much from then on. Not the same time as now. No cell phones or facebook, or any of that. But, somehow, when I moved down to Austin at 8 months pregnant with Max, Tom found me. I was living with my Mom, sleeping on an army cot in her dining room, and feeling pretty terrible about everything. Unattractive, heart broken, confused, scared...and alone.
I have no idea how Tom found me, or found out that I was in Austin, even, but he did - he was living there, too, going to UT - and he showed up at my Mom's house with his familiar, infectious smile looking (if possible) more handsome than ever.

"Come on, Jeni." he said cheerfully, after the initial shock of seeing me knocked up. "Let's go do something!"
The first night he took me to a beer garden to see some music. He drank beer, and I drank ice water. It was so hot, it was unthinkable to drink anything else. I remember being covered in sweat when we left the place at 1 in the morning.

The next night, he took me for a drive, then to the top of Mt.Bonnell. So we could talk.
Mt. Bonnell is in the middle of town, up a million steps, a great lookout point over Austin. We found a perfect spot to lie down, look at the stars and talk. And it was one of the only places in the city where the heat was bearable. Way up there, there was just a hint of a breeze that turned stifling into warm.
I told him all about everything. About Max's Dad, and how awful it had been. How I felt so ugly and unloveable, and about how scared I was to be doing this whole baby thing all by myself.

"Oh, Jeni." Tom said softly, as he stroked my hair while I rested my head on his shoulder. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met. No - I mean it." (as I shook my head,'no'.) "And I'll be damned if you aren't just prettier than ever all knocked up and everything. I never really saw any pregnant woman that was 'glowing' until I saw you. I'm telling you, Jeni....Oh dear!"
His arm stiffened up and went around me protectively, his whole body going from relaxed to stiff in less than a second.
"Ok...now just don't move, or say a word.." Tom whispered in my ear with some urgency. "Look right down there by our feet."
I did, and saw a giant skunk waddling around about an inch from our shoes. It was the first time I had ever seen a skunk this close up. I stifled a little squeak, and Tom quickly put his hand over my mouth.
"Don't be worried." he whispered right into my ear, "if we don't move a muscle, or make a sound he'll go away. They only spray when they're scared."
I nodded and stayed perfectly still.
That skunk waddled casually around our feet, checking us out, smelling things, as if he were a Sunday shopper! He was in no hurry. It felt like forever until that big boy finally waddled away, and meanwhile, Tom was holding me close, barely laughing into my ear and whispering things like, "look at that big thing...he's just takin' his sweet time. Don't mind us."

When the skunk was gone, I melted into Tom's arms, laughing. Oh! It was SUCH a good feeling! When you haven't laughed in a long time - and you finally do - well, it's just such a wonderful, wonderful feeling.
Tom laughed, too, and hugged me.
"Whew! that was a close call!" he said. "I've never been quite THAT close to a skunk!"

The hugs turned into kisses,the kisses quickly became intense, and every torturous teenaged longing for Tom rushed back into my heart and body. We kissed so deeply and passionately up there above the city, it was like some other force took over, and we were no longer in control.
"Let's get out of here." Tom finally said in a throaty whisper.
"Ok." I agreed.

Tom took me to his place. A house he was sharing. I think we were both experiencing the same turmoil as we drove there in his big truck. But something was stronger than the turmoil. Stronger than the doubt. Stronger than either of us in that moment.

As soon as we got inside his door, Tom picked me up in his arms as if I were a baby.He carried me into his bedroom and gently placed me on his bed.
"I can't believe you just did that." I said. "Am I not too heavy?"
"You are not. You're light as a feather." Tom replied. Then he turned down his sheets and brushed my hair back from my face.
"What can I get you? Water? Anything?"
I responded by bursting into tears. It was so OPPOSITE of how I'd been treated by the father of this child. He was being so nice to me - so kind...
"Jeni....Jeni.." Tom said as he gathered me into his strong arms. "You deserve to be treated like a princess. That's all there is to it."

I finally made love to my first sweetheart when I was eight and a half months pregnant with another man's child. I didn't plan it to be that way. I didn't want it to be that way. But I don't regret it. I can NOT sit here and pretend to be holier than I am, and tell you that I regret it.

Tom made love to me as if I were a princess, then held me for rest of the night.I slept that night in a golden haze. And as I drifted off to sleep, I thought, "This is how it should have been the whole time...when you're pregnant you should be sleeping with someone who loves you every night. Someone who makes you feel treasured - like this."

Tom left for a big rock-climbing trip right after that, and by the time he got back, Max was born, and I was making up my mind to go to Dallas and try to make it work with David.

We lost track of each other for years, and then Tom found me again.
We were long distance friends. He had a successful company that he was running in Salt Lake City - a company that invented and produced climbing gear. His passion had become climbing, and taking care of the earth. He would call me and tell me about the ups and downs of his business, and also the ups and down of his long term girlfriend, who seemed to delight in torturing him.

Then, not long after my X-husband beat me to a pulp in front of our 2 daughters, Tom arrived at my doorstep - out of nowhere, and single.

"Well, Jeni." Tom said, after he'd heard the story. "I just had a feeling you might need a friend."
I sure as hell DID!!! My face had JUST healed, after looking like the 'Elephant Man' for more than a month, and my insides had NOT healed. Tom was the most welcome face right then. And he was not judgmental - as SO many other people were (assuming it was my fault)- or anything. Once again he said, as he shook his head in sadness, "You deserve to be treated like princess, Jeni. You just do."

As I watched Tom playing with my children,I shook like a leaf.
Tom could see and feel the state I was in. He made no romantic overtures on this trip. He was there as my solid friend.
"Want to come out to the desert with me for a day trip?" he asked.
I just sort of looked at him, perplexed.
"Well, I understand if you don't want to. But I have to go out there and see my father, and I just would love a little more time with you, that's all."
I think wonderful Tom sensed that he was like a life raft for me right then, and he wasn't about to take it away any quicker than he had to.
"I would love to come. I've never met your father."

I had met his sweet, loving mother many times, but not his father. Despite that family's 'real Catholic' status, Tom's parents were divorced already when I met him, and Tom had had a hard time forgiving his father for leaving.

We went to 'the desert', which turned out to be the luxury of all luxury motor-home parks in Palm Springs.It was a good and much needed distraction.
At the end of the visit, Tom took my hand and asked me to take a walk with him. The dry heat was acting like a sauna on my nerves. Calming.
"Well, Jeni. I can't help wondering.." Tom said.
"Wondering what?"
"Well....I guess what it would have been like if we had ended up together. You know?"
I couldn't talk. Was feeling too delicate.I nodded.
"I never have stopped loving you. I never could. Life just took us in different directions, is all."
I looked up at him and nodded again. I hadn't stopped loving him, either. I never could. But I was SICK of crying - so I didn't say anything, and fought the tears.
"My father and Step-mom were sure taken by you. And my Mom loves you - she still asks about you."
"So does my Mom - about you." I managed. "You're the one that got away, as far as she's concerned."
Tom stopped me then, turned me to face him.
"I'm shutting down my factory, Jeni. I'm moving to California. I know this is nothing you can think about right now - it's way too much, too soon. But..."
I cut him off by diving into his chest for a hug. I held on for dear life.
"It's ok. It's gonna be ok, I promise." Tom said as he held me.

The last time I saw him was on my front steps, as he said goodbye. He finally kissed me - but it was soft and gentle. He seemed to know how very fragile I was.
"Now it's only goodbye for now, ok?" Tom reassured me. "I'm coming back - and I hope for good, ok?"
"Ok." I whispered.
"I just have to finish some stuff up about closing the business, and then I'll be back before you know it....and...well, goodness, Jeni. Will you think about things? When you're ready? I meant what I said. It'd be my honor to treat you like a princess for the rest of your life."
"Oh, Tom!" was all I could say as I flung my arms around him. "I love you."
I held on tight for as long as I could before he pried me loose and walked down the steps.

One month later, I got a call from Tom's mother.
Once again, I felt a sense of dread fill my entire body when I heard the phone ring.

"Jennifer?" the sweet, frail voice on the other end said.
"Yes. Yes, it's me."
"Well, I just have some terrible news."
I couldn't breath.
"Tom's had an accident. He went on a very difficult climb in Colorado - he was very excited about it - and he fell. He fell off the mountain."
"Oh no! NO! Is he.."
"Well, he's dead, Jennifer. He's gone. He died quickly, they say. Didn't experience any pain. He's with his Heavenly Father, now. And at least he died doin' what he loved to do."

We talked quite a bit over the next few months. Tom had his ashes scattered over that mountain - the beautiful mountain that he'd fallen from. Tom's mother seemed pretty ok about everything. Her faith made her feel ok about things. For her, Tom was just in a better place. A place where she could join him in time.
I envied her her strong conviction. I felt cheated. Left with a lifetime's worth of 'what if?'
My sweet Tom plucked away - right off a mountain top - just when we were maybe going to have... love. Real, lasting,romantic love. There is nothing better than being head over heels in lust with your very best friend.

So. That's what happened with Tom.
He was my knight in shining armor.
He, and Paul, and Marieke all make me think that expression is true.
ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG.

Well, all I have to say about all that is - there BETTER be a better place. That they all got to go to. There just BETTER be.

My Billy Crystal story (and Rudy's- which is better!)

Ok. This is a short, Oscar night-worthy story.
I live blocks away from the Kodak theater, were they film the Oscars now. But I feel a world away. Tonight, however, as I was watching the show all by myself, I thought - "I've met a couple of those people.."

A couple of years ago, when Obama and Hillary Clinton were neck and neck in the race for Dem candidate, I was invited to a Hillary Clinton fund raiser in Beverly Hills.
Swayed by my gay husband, Mark's, constant appeal for me to date men with JOBS, I was going to this as a date with a top city official. He was a toad of a man, if you must know. I was trying to get past his physical appearance, but I could not get past his crass, new-wealth behavior. My alternate motive in going out on about 3 dates with Toady, was that I wanted to convince him to STOP allowing every fast talking slime ball(who probably bribed him) to tear down historical buildings. LA is a pretty new city. We need our history.

After we had left his mercedes old man car with the valet, and strolled into the beautiful modern mansion, littered with significant modern art that my date had never heard of, we made our way out to the pool area, where Hillary would be speaking to a small crowd of about 60 people. Toady tugged the arm of my dress.
"Look!" he said. "It's Billy Crystal!"
Good grief. He didn't know who Andy WARHOL was, but he recognized Billy Crystal.I looked over to where he was pointing and nodding like an imbecile to see someone who may or may not have been Billy Crystal. I tried to get a better look, but the puppet-like man who looked vaguely like Billy Crystal, if he had been turned into silly-putty and stretched, turned away.
"I need to find the powder room before she speaks, anyway." I informed Toady as he stuffed his face with bacon wrapped shrimp.
"What room is that?" he asked me around his mouthful.
"The restroom. The toilet. The W.C. Capice?"

I didn't really care whether he did or not.I was here for Hillary. I strolled passed the alleged Billy crystal puppet - and sure enough! It really WAS him!
Good Lord, if I ever needed incentive not to get any plastic surgery - this was it. The man looked like someone had freaked OUT on his face.
THIS was 'Harry'? from 'When Harry Met Sally'????? Darling, cute HARRY!!????? It was a terrible slap into reality. Only - REALITY would have LOOKED so much better!

(OMG! Bjorn just called me for a date! WHAT am I getting myself INTO!!??) (BLIND DATE!)(YIKES!!!)

Ok - back to blog.

So, Rudy was here for the weekend last week. Yes - that very same one. (only I suspect he hasn't got the same problem anymore, and if you met his girlfriend, I think you'd be with me! She looks like Jessica Rabbit. And is sweet and SMART and - 'nuff said.)
So, Billy Crystal came up in conversation, and Rudy said, "OH - I have a great Billy Crystal story!"
Rudy was a pretty big child/teen actor. And among his credits, he was in a movie that's a bit of a cult classic now.
"SO - we were at the screening of the movie - MY MOVIE.." he said (he was the star), "and Billy Crystal was sitting right in front of us." (Rudy was there with his friend who was also in the movie) "And I was like - OH shit! It's BILLY CRYSTAL! But I was so nervous, I was absent mindedly kicking his chair - it was the chair in front of my friend, Adam. We were both 15,.. kids. This was a super big deal for us."
"YEA. But Billy was sitting in front of ME.".. Adam chimed in.
"So, Billy Crystal turns around and says to Adam, 'Stop kicking my chair!' in a pretty mean way. And Adam just looks at him. Before he has time to say anything.."
"Like, 'It wasn't me - it was my friend'.." Adam interjects.
"Yea. Like that. Billy Crystal says, 'Stop kicking my fucking chair you little punk or I'll come back there and punch you in the face', or something....."
"And you guys are 15? You're just kids?" I ask.
"Yea, we're 15." Adam.
"..And it was YOUR movie! What a jerk!" I say.
"Yea, so years later I'm at a Lakers game, and there's Billy Crystal...YEARS later."
"Oh, yea. I forgot about this.." (Adam)
"So, I go up to him and tell him the story. And I end it with telling him that my friend is a BIG fan of his, and you know, that was pretty devastating for him. So Billy looks right at me, perfect comedic pause, and says, 'Tell your friend to go fuck himself.'"

I looked at both of them. "So, the moral of the story is that Billy Crystal is an asshole?"

"Yea. But a fucking FUNNY one."

don't feed a stray puppy unless you intend to keep it.

This morning the trash trucks were ENDLESS and SOOOOO loud! I couldn't sleep one minute from 2 am to 6 am, so when I got back from taking Sophie to the bus stop at 7:30 am, I tried to sleep.
It was one those mornings when JUST as I was dozing off, another monster big truck came up the hill. I live on a hill. The top house at the end of a cul-de-sac. This house is like a fort that looks over all her neighbors, can see any enemy approaching.

Only we're not ALL the way up the mountain. We're just half way. So - no city views of LA sprawling in all her twinkly glory and chaos - just "Canyon" views. (That 's what the realtors call them) I can sit out on my front terrace on a beautiful evening and look across the hills (Adam Levine lives right across from me, and Pee Wee Herman), and as the sun goes down (especially) I pretend I am in the hills outside of Rome. Or in the South of France.
But on a morning like this one - I remember I'm in LA. Land of giant trash trucks. Do I want to kill them - or yell at them? NO! Not today!!!! Not NOW!!!!!

Quite the contrary! I want to go give each man on each truck a flower and say "thank you!" This dangerous, irresponsible balogna in Wisconsin has me thinking about massive trash-worker strikes to come, teachers striking, etc. Have you ever BEEN to a city when the trash workers are on strike? Have you ever BEEN to Mexico (real Mexico - not just the resorts)where the whole country is a "right to work" situation?
I'm sorry for this little side rant - but I WANT my trash picked up by people who are decently paid and cared for. I don't want to do that job! Nor do I want to be a police officer, or a teacher in most of the decrepit, falling down public schools in this country - or a FIREMAN! And YES! I want those people to be adequately PAID!!! I DO! Their jobs are important! On a daily basis! SUPER IMPORTANT! I DON'T want to live in Mexico, thank you very much - where the rich people hide away behind walls and electric fences and machine-gun armed guards. I love this state. I love California. Sometimes, I wish we were our own country.

Anyway - sorry for that side note - where was I?
Oh yes.
Couldn't sleep. For many reasons (as usual), but the last of them was the stray puppy problem.
Let me explain.

When we first moved into this house, a family of raccoons let themselves in through the cat door and left paw prints all over the house, ate all the cat food and made a big mess, and also got into some chips and things.It was adorable. Seeing all the different, distinct sizes of paw prints. But someone said "Don't feed them - or they'll never leave you alone."
Well, we did feed them. Izzy and Max and Sophie used to feed the raccoons cookies out their hands. The raccoons would come right up to them and take the cookies, becoming more bold every week.

Then, it became clear that if ANY food was left out on the sun porch - the raccoons would have a field day and make a great big mess while they were at it. My house sits on 2 acres in the Hollywood Hills. Almost all of the land is in the back of the property, and most of it is super hilly and wild. We have all kinds of animals back there. Families of deer make their way through the back yard, even coming down to the house when they get really hot and thirsty. And skunks. And a giant white barn owl in the pine tree out front. (he is REALLY magical!) And I am woken up (on non-trash days) by tropical sounding birds. And there are hummingbirds all over, and....COYOTES.

A couple years ago, when Alex was living here (renting a room) - we had a coyote that decided he was our pet. The girls felt sorry for him and wanted to feed him. Even Max had a soft spot for this mangy thing.He would come down and make himself comfortable on our sun-porch furniture. Alex took a great photo of him out there - just lounging on a wicker couch, like a big, mangy stuffed animal.

"Don't feed him!" I kept telling the kids.
"But MOM!" Izzy and Sophie replied, "He's obviously lost from the pack - and he's so sweet! He thinks he's our pet!"
"Yea, we could have a pet coyote." Max chimed in (mostly sarcastic I think)
"No, no, no!" I protested. "We are NOT having a 'pet' coyote. Absolutely NOT!"
The girls looked out at the lonely, skinny thing sadly.
"Don't FEED HIM." I said again, firmly.

Well, last night, that lesson came back in a whole other form. Sometimes, people are more like pets than we might realize.

At midnight, an old friend of Max's waltzed into the house without knocking or anything.I'm just going to call him 'Sonny'.
Sonny has been around for a LONG time. All through the Shia and Mike G days...and when Max and WICKER started playing out, Sonny was at every show. Always ending up on our couch, and hanging around half the next day until I would give him a ride to the metro.He got really comfy around here. Helped himself to cereal, or whatever... (which is fine), lounged around on my couch watching super bad TV at a high volume.
Then I'd take him to the metro, and damned if that boy didn't ask me out on a date. Several times.
"Sonny," I'd laugh, "Don't be crazy. I'm WAYYYY too old for you!"
"That's ok." he would say in his high, soft voice (he kind of sounds like Michael Jackson)"I like older women. You look like you're 28 to me.We could get a beer sometime."

It got to the point that I would get real sketched out when he slept over.
"MAX!", I'd pull Max aside to say, "I don't want to give him a ride to the metro...he's gonna ask me out!"
Then I'd get in my car and haul out of here pronto.

Well, the years have gone by, and Sonny still goes to all of the shows - but he stopped asking me out, so that's good. But the thing is - he's like that coyote. Max just let him stay here for all of those years on our couch, and now Sonny thinks he's part of the family. Only he's not - and he lives far away. So, the other night, when he waltzed in here without knocking, I said, "Hey, Sonny. Are you looking for Max?"
"Yea. Yea is he here?"
"He's in his room."
I assumed Max had asked him over or spoken to him, but when I knocked, then opened Max's door, he bolted up from a deep sleep (almost knocking Tess over - who was quietly doing stuff on her computer at the foot of the bed)and barked "What the hell, Sonny? What are you doing here!? It's MIDNIGHT!"

It was chaos for 5 minutes while Max jumped out of bed in his boxers and practically chased Sonny out the door (it ALMOST sounded like he was saying "BAD dog!"), Tess and I couldn't help but burst into giggles, and Max glared at me, demanding to know why I'd "let him in."

"I didn't let him in!" I protested "He let HIMSELF in!"

So, that's the thing, Max. You can't feed a stray puppy unless you're going to keep him.

The ANECDOTE ABOUT Whiskey Dick...

This is the ANECDOTE about whiskey dick. Which I feel compelled to write about for a couple of reasons.

A few years ago, I was going through a VERY,VERY hard time. Emotionally. A break up that was so bad, I offer to guess that it was worse than any break up story you can tell me. It culminated in my getting a phone call on my birthday, that was so bad and horrible - it wrecked my heart so terribly - down to it's very core - that I felt like a shaky, delicate survivor - barely hanging on - for months afterwards. Along with everything else, I lost 30 pounds the month after that phone call. When I didn't have 30 to spare. I just didn't have any appetite. I remained in this fragile condition for 2 years - maybe more. And there were a couple of people in my life who helped me through it. One of them was my beloved Mieke. And the other one - the other surprising one - was....let's call him Rudy.

I met Rudy and his X (the mother of his child) at that wonderful school I have mentioned before. The Hollywood Little Red Schoolhouse. The school was full of cool parents. WONDERFUL parents. And Mieke, Rudy, his X and I were among the youngest of them. Rudy would be just outside of whatever play or event was going on, smoking and offering up his glib, witty comments on everything and anything. He was usually accompanied by a tall, good looking gay man. They were an odd couple, to say the least.We weren't really friends at this point, just parents laughing at the same jokes.

So, when Rudy came up to me one night at Boardner's, with a shocking pink mohawk - I didn't even recognize him.

"You know who I am!" he said as he kneeled by me in the crowded, noisy bar. "I'm RUDY! Our kids go to school together!"
I looked at him more closely. "Oh, yea! I didn't recognize you with the hair.."
"Ha! " he laughed, "I just did it! Hey, we should hang out sometime."
"Ok. Yea..."

Months later, we went to some crazy art thing with a bunch of people. Mieke was there, and I don't remember who else. We took the metro downtown, and ended up riding back into Hollywood at 2 in the morning in the back of someone's truck. It was early September.

A week or so later, I got a disturbing love letter hand delivered to me in the seat of my car. I never locked my car. I figured it must be from the horrible man that had broken up with me in such a devastating way. It didn't make a lot of sense, but it kind of looked like his handwriting, and I couldn't think who else would do that. Someone who knew where I lived, etc. I called Mr. Horrible up, and demanded to know if he had delivered this letter to my car. He denied it, and became instantly jealous, crazy and threatening (even though we'd been broken up for months).

Again, I felt so rocked, so shaky and upset, I didn't know what to do. I NEEDED to stop feeling. I needed to quit feeling so scared of him, and angry and hurt - and ALL of it.
Just then, Rudy called.
He caught me at the worst moment. I was crying, talking a mile a minute, probably sounding utterly insane.
"Look," he said calmly, "Is there someone to watch the kids?"
"Yes. Dora's still here. She can stay." (my faithful Dora! She's been with me for almost 13 years!)
"Ok. Just hop in your car and come down to my place.I live RIGHT down the street from you. We'll figure it out, ok?"

So, I did.
He didn't know the story of what had happened (not yet), and he was so wonderfully unfazed by the whole thing.
Rudy looked over the note and burst into laughter."What a douch-bag!" he said, glibly. "This is the cheesiest bullshit I've ever seen! And what a chicken shit! To leave it in your CAR! Who DOES that? Fuck this guy! Let's go out and go dancing."
"Well, I'm not really dressed to go dancing, I just ran out of the house in whatever..." I said, looking myself over.
"You look great! I'll drive."

So we went back to Boardner's. They had a good DJ on fridays back then, and a few people were dancing. Rudy set us up with drinks stat, and pretty soon I was dancing with a really cute girl. Her name was Sara.
"What are you, doing the whole 'Fleetwood Mac' thing?", she said over the music, making fun of the flowy skirt I had run out of the house in.
"Not on purpose!" I said loudly back.
"It's cool. You look like Stevie Nicks!"

In my attempt to numb the sharp, aching pain in my heart, I threw back the drinks. I tried to keep up with Rudy, and I was doing pretty well.
At one point in the evening, we found ourselves on the back patio, so Rudy could smoke.
"Hey!" he said to me, "Save my seat. I have to use the john, I'll be right back!"
I nodded my head 'yes', but about 2 minutes after he'd left, a couple of big football player looking guys came over and started chatting me up. One them sat right down in Rudy's spot.

"Ummm..I'm actually saving that seat for my friend." I said to the huge guy. "He'll be right back."
"Ok, so then I'll move when he gets back." jock-man retorted as if it were a clever thing to say.
"Is that little guy your BOYFRIEND?" said his side kick.

I paused for a moment in my foggy, numbed condition. Had I just fallen into a bad John Hughes' movie? Were there ACTUALLY meat heads out there in the world that SPOKE like this? I thought that was only fictional. My respect for John Hughes went up a notch.
Just then, Rudy came back.
He was a small guy. And on this evening his hair was slightly purple. Rudy was (and is) a very good looking man, with perfectly proportioned features,big brown eyes and dark rimed glasses. He's my height, exactly. 5 ft, seven. And theses guys were both HUGE.

"I thought you were going to save my seat for me." Rudy said, laughing a little.
"Well, I tried...this 'gentleman' says he's getting up just a soon as you get back. Which is now..." I looked expectantly at the 'gentleman'.
"Yea? Well, I'm comfortable here now. You're comfortable, aren't you?" jock-man asked his sidekick. (seriously!!!???)
"Yea. I don't FEEL like movin'" the sidekick directs to Rudy. (who comes up to this guy's pecks)
"Let's just go inside." I immediately interjected, a vision of blood and smashed glasses popping into my head.
"Get the FUCK out of my FUCKING spot, you rude FUCK." Rudy said without hesitation. ("Oh...SHIT! Here it comes", I thought. "This night is going to end up in the ER!")
I looked at the meat-heads to see what they were going to do, trying to quickly come up with some back up plan. But the meat-heads just looked kind of shocked.
"You heard me." Rudy went on. He did not look one single, TINY bit scared of these guys. "Get the fuck out my spot, you rude asshole, before I punch you in the FUCKING FACE."
The meat-heads were still in shock, I think. They just nodded and backed away.
"Ok. Ok, man. What EVER.." were their parting words, as they made their way over to a far corner of the patio.

Rudy sat down next to me nonchalantly. I think my jaw was on the floor.
"I would have done it, too." he said, matter of factly. "I would have punched that guy right in the face."

We stayed at Boardner's drinking and dancing until pretty late. We talked to Sara some more, and I danced with her some more. She suggested that we might want to come back to her house to play pool when we were done with Boardner's. Rudy and I went back out to the patio to discuss it.He took a deep drag of his cigarette and looked right into my eyes.
"I've got to tell you something." he said,his eyes becoming giant and liquid - like that kitten in the old cartoons from the fifties, or a japanese anime character. (this is a trick I've become very familiar with from Rudy over the years)
"What is it?" I asked.
"Have you ever heard of 'whiskey dick'?" he asked me a little sadly - his giant brown eyes looking so sincere and vulnerable.
"Well...I guess so."
"Do you know what it means?"
"I....I don't think I do. Exactly." It seemed like I SHOULD know what that meant, but I really didn't.
"It's what happens to your dick when you drink too much." he explained.
I had been drinking too much. That night. I still wasn't sure what he was talking about, or why.
"Your dick doesn't work. It doesn't work. And that's me. I'VE got whiskey dick. So, you should just know that. We can go out, and be friends and stuff....but the sex thing's not going to happen. It's not you. It's not because you're not pretty or anything like that. I just drink too much."

He said it as an explanation, and as a confession. With his big, sweet eyes letting me know that his heart was in the right place.
I didn't care about that. He had rescued me from a terrible night. He probably didn't have a clue about what a desperately needed rescue it was - or from what terrible dark place I was needing rescuing from.
"It's ok. " I said, honestly.
"Cool. Just wanted to get that out of the way. Let's go to Sara's."

Sara turned out to be Sara Rue. (you may know her from her TV show,or her current Weight Watcher's campaign)

And THAT was when our night really BEGAN......

minted pea spread + easy mojitos!

Well, instead of going to search for Banksy art in LA with my friends today (Mark and Ryan), I decided to do some gardening and some cleaning - trying to keep up with my out of town house guests, you know it goes....and since the WICKER gang and my out of towners are all excited about this big, all-star basketball game today, I decided to try to make Sara's minted pea spread on home made crostini.

OH! This one is SOOOOO easy, FAST, HEALTHY and delicious - I MUST share it!

take a bag of frozen peas, cook until just 'freshened' (as Sara says). Barely cook them until they're bright green. Then run them under cold water in a strainer. dump those emerald green babies into your blender or Cuisinart. Add juice of one big juicy lemon,1/8th cup of good olive oil, liberal pinch of sea salt,and a handful of mint leaves then blend. THAT'S IT!

you can adjust the lemon juice, mint and salt to your taste - but you've just ended up with a super pretty, healthy dip or spread that takes all of 4 minutes to make - THANKS, Sara!!!!! It might SOUND little too healthy - but these young rock stars that just walked in LOVED it, I'm JUST sayin'...

You can serve this on homemade crostini (which is a little more trouble, lets face it) or - I really dig it with these new pretzel chips - YUM. ok - I got the package - they're called pretzel crisps, made by the Snack Factory. 0 trans fat.

Then, as you will doubtless have extra mint left over, why not throw that into the blender (after you've cleaned it, of course) and lime juice (has to be fresh), Bacardi's light rum, some filtered water and ice and a big dollop of agave nectar. Blend into EASY mojitos, pour over ice. (I say easy, because normally I would make simple syrup ahead of time, and muddle mint into each glass - I am a mojito SNOB, but doing it this way saves a couple steps and is still fresh and deeeelish)

Ok, my friends - I am off to shower and figure out which of my ten year old outfits I can get away with wearing tonight on my ACTUAL DATE.

Deflowering a Virgin at The Minneapolis Children's Theater.

Well, Mr. Mark M has already told his side of this story to thousands of people, so I guess I
get to tell MY side, now.

After I had spent the summer of my eighteenth year in Dallas, doing a little modeling and a couple of stupid commercials, and dating David Patterson (Max's Dad), I got a call from a friend I'd met at The National Theatre's summer program in Santa Fe. A French guy. Very lively and funny. One of those actors who knows how to juggle and sing and dance - pretty much ready for the circus at a moment's notice. He was quite a bit older than me (as every one in that program was - I did it when I was 15), and he had landed a job teaching at the Minneapolis Children's Theater. For those of you who do not know about this legendary theater, let me just say it is (or was) the BEST children's theater in the country. THE BEST. And they were known for one of the top three SCHOOLS for acting in the country as well. And my friend was calling me up to offer me a job.

"They are looking for interns, an they weel take you on my recommendation.." said my friend on the phone. "It's not much money, but you live in the 'ousing, and you are in the plays...?" he explained. I knew what the theater was. I jumped at the chance. Unfortunately for me, I guess I hadn't been watching the news.

Things were strange just about as soon as I got there. The interns were rounded up first thing into the dance room, where we sat on the floor, and were given a VERY serious speech by a few of the teachers who had hired us. My French friend was there (Barry was his name, I think)standing in the back of the main three who spoke, with his arms crossed, nodding his head.

"I'm sure you're all aware of what has been and is still happening at the school..." this lovely woman began. (I had NO IDEA what she was talking about)"...you'll need to be prepared for camera crews, sometimes on a daily basis. The indictments are on-going. And in light of all this....drama, for lack of a better word.." (nervous laughter around the room), "it is EXTREMELY important that we make a couple of things clear right away."
I looked around at the other interns. Some of them nodded and seemed to know what she was talking about, others, like me,seemed clueless.
"So. " the woman went on."Firstly, NONE of you are to speak to the news organizations at ALL. Legally, we have no right to ask you to do this, but as a school, and a 'family', we are ASKING you to do this. We are requiring it. Most of you are new to us, anyway, so I imagine you wouldn't have a lot to say on the subject."
I had a sneaking suspicion that ALL of us were new. But I still didn't know WHAT this subject was that she was speaking of.
"Secondly .." (deep sigh) "I hate to even have to mention this, but - here goes. Most of you here are VERY young." (we sure were!) "And we have never had to say anything like this before, but.."

And here, another teacher, a man, jumped in.
"We HAVE to say this. It's a little uncomfortable, but, no matter how old you are - you're all at least 18 - YOU are in an interesting situation here as interns. You will all be teaching at least one class. So, technically....you are TEACHERS here. And there can be NO RELATIONS between teachers and students - I mean - especially now. Some of your students may be a year younger than you, or even your age. But we must INSIST that there be no inter-student relationships. Considering."

Considering WHAT exactly???
I found out soon enough. My friend took me aside and explained to me that the artistic director was going into trial for child molestation (many cases of them)and that half the faculty were going to be indicted for with-holding information. Turned out that some of them were being dragged into court for selling coke on campus as well. YIKES. What a crazy storm I had just waltzed into.

On top of this madness (oh yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury - there were MANY camera crews at school, and they would grab ANYONE to try and get a sound bite!) I was put into a house full of teenaged boys - as sort of an RA type!!! YES! ME!!! 18 yr. old ME!!!

The HOUSING situation at this place was just CRAZY! I was barely out of Interlochen, where we had adults telling us to turn the lights off at 10 pm, and a cafeteria. No such set up at this school. AND they let kids start BOARDING at the ripe old age of TWELVE!!! No wonder this abuse ran rampant. The kids boarded at various houses. 'My' house was an old victorian downtown - a few short blocks away from Prince's purple house. Three stories, with a landlord/pot dealer on the third story who was constantly trying to get me high and seduce me. He was forty something (I have to giggle now as I realize he was probably MY age), and seemed OLD to me. Old and creepy. And then there were all of these teenaged boys living there, including Mark.

It feels like I've already written about his. Have I? Am I losing my damn mind? You MUST have mercy and tell me if that's the case! Because if I really am losing it, I better just move to Spain already and get it over with - you know?

Mark lived in this crazy house with me. He was 17. Tall, thin - a dancer's body. And the exotic good looks of a Scandinavian prince. His eyes reminded me of a cat. And he had a great, thick shock of blonde hair.

In his article, he describes waiting for me with a hard-on around every corner - but I don't remember it like that. (And, of course I was from Texas, not Oklahoma, and I've never had a screen door))

The way I remember it, was that we became best friends. Our SEX relationship may only have lasted a week, but we were inseparable for months before that. It was Mark, and his good, gay friend, and myself. We did crazy things. We ran all over town, played a form of 'chicken' on the overpasses. I decided I wanted to direct him in a play version of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' that I had written. So, we were rehearsing that at night, in our weird house.

The landlord cornered me and talked me into going sailing with him on his yacht. Sure enough, he HAD a yacht. Or it was rented, or a friend's - I don't know. It probably WAS his. I think he was a pretty established drug dealer.
He picked up a basket of fancy picnic items - champagne, what have you, and took me on this giant sailing yacht before it got freezing cold.

You'd think a man in his forties would have the working knowledge to know that when you ply a very young girl with champagne, brie and lots of MJ - ON a moving boat - it's NOT such a great recipe for seduction. GREAT recipe for throwing up over the side of said boat.

Green as a week-old cod, I returned to our victorian house and spilled my misadventure to Mark. We laughed about the old perv and at him. Mark was my BEST friend at this crazy place. It WAS crazy, too. A friend of mine from Interlochen came and testified against the artistic director. And not long after I arrived, my ONLY other friend (Barry - the Frenchie) high-tailed it back to France when HE was indicted for something or another.

It was crazy, and lonely and weird.
And despite myself - despite the severe warnings against it - I found myself more and more attracted to this 17 year old student.

We stayed up late, talking about anything and everything. His eyes were so intense. He was really smart. And the more we did together, the more this energy built up between us. It was like an invisible wildfire raging between our two bodies. It became more and more clear that there was no way to put it out except....to embrace it. It was weeks of torture. (he wasn't the only one) And finally, I caved. I asked him into my room.

That room. I can see it in my mind's eye. Like a stoic room from an old novel.(Jayne Ere) But I had a candle lit, and that was all we needed. I was as nervous as he was, I think. It was my first known deflowering, after all. Even Jeff Forrester had lied and told me he wasn't a virgin. (he told me LATER that he had been)

As awkward and as tense as everything was, it was that charged with electricity and longing, too. It was wonderful. I walked around in a full-on, blissed-out, sex-haze for the rest of that week.At school, we looked the other way dramatically. As soon as we got back to our victorian house, we were in each other's arms. Like almost all 17 year old boys, he was capable of having sex 10 - 20 times a night, so, I was going to school and rehearsal DEAD tired on top of everything else. And then...David called.

It's true. I was terrified of everything about Mark. My feelings, the morality of it (I really was), and NOT LEAST of all - the situation at the SCHOOL! I had broken the very sacred promise we all (all the interns) had made at the beginning. Maybe I could go to jail - I guess I COULD have! Mark WAS a minor. I was FREAKING.

So, when David called, I dumped poor Mark like a hot potato, and went to stay at a fancy hotel with older,lawyer, David.
Then, just as soon as David left (before Christmas break), I packed my few belongings into my car, wrote Mark a note, and left in the dead of night. I drove out to Hollywood (confused as HELL) and arrived at Hala's doorstep at 3 am in a Marilyn Monroe costume three days later. But THAT is a WHOLE other story.

TWENTY EIGHT YEARS later, Mark found me on Facebook. We had never spoken since then, never written - never ANYTHING.He directed me to the article he'd written about finding me, and we met up a year ago in NYC.

Funny how the world works.

ok - this is where Facebook gets really weird - this is about ME.

http://markmillhone.com/articles/Hunting%20Your%20Great%20Lost%20Love.pdf

Bangarang (Hook Remix)

My Agent Takes Me to Lunch.

When I first got to LA, I started going out on auditions almost right away, and a lot of them were REALLY intimidating. 'The Godfather 3' was one of my first auditions, for example. And 'Backdraft', and lots of big movies up against name actresses. But I also got sent out for those typical sitcoms of the nineties. And whereas I was at least getting call backs and good feedback from the movie auditions - I was NOT getting any of that love from the sitcom world. So my agent, Jeri Scott, took me to lunch.

Jeri (I'm probably spelling her name all wrong) was a very cool woman. She was kind of a typical agent-type, too. She smoked, and had a husky voice. She didn't beat around the bush, either. She gave it to you straight, and gave it straight to you. When she asked me to lunch, I thought I was in trouble.

We went to this steak house around the corner from the agency in Beverly Hills.It was kind of fancy, so I immediately thought that I'd better just get a salad in case we were splitting the bill. Jeri looked at me like I was crazy and sort of barked out, "What's wrong with you? Aren't you hungry?"
I looked up at the super-model looking waiter(who was fawning all over my 40 something year old agent)embarrassed.
"Get me a diet coke and come back in a minute." Jeri said to the waiter, waving him off. "These boys all know I'm an agent. It's ridiculous." she explained.
I looked around, and sure enough, there were at least five gorgeous model-type of boys staring at her. They were practically drooling. I felt super special to be the one that was actually having lunch with her - even if I WAS in trouble.

Jeri looked at me sharply over her menu. "Jesus. You're not on a DIET, are you?"
I didn't know what I was supposed to say to that. Did she think I SHOULD be on one? Was this a trick question? I must have looked scared, because she addressed the issue in a softer tone.
"Look, kid. You are as skinny as a rail. And THIS is a STEAK HOUSE. You eat meat, don't you? Aren't you from Texas?"
"Hmm hmm." I nodded (flattered that she remembered that about me)
"Well, have a STEAK! Don't worry - it's on the company card. Have a steak and a big fat baked potato - you could use it."
"Ok. " I said, HAPPY to oblige. I was starving as usual, and hey - if this was to be my last meal (so to speak), I may as well go out full.
Just then, the waiter came back with her diet coke - he may as well have been bowing and scraping, the way that he was acting around her. It was hilarious.
"You know, take this damn coke away. I don't want that. Let's have a couple of drinks. It's friday, right?" she addressed to me. I nodded to that, to. My agent was going to start thinking I was mute in a minute if I kept nodding like an idiot.

Thankfully those drinks came pretty quickly, and I felt my courage coming back. Jeri was so awfully sweet. If she had to cut me loose, this was a nice way to do it.
"How's your little boy?" she asked.
"He's good. really good."
"Ok, that's good. Now, I have to ask you something important.." (uh oh!)She took a swig of her drink, and looked at me really intensely. "Do you have a TV?"
(Did she just ask me if I have a TV????!!!!) For a minute, it felt like I was an actor that had just stepped into the wrong play - just like those reoccurring dreams I had, or, well - nightmares.
She had to say it again. "DO YOU HAVE A TV? Earth to Jennifer..!"
"ummm....no. I don't have one."
"I didn't think so." Jeri said as the waiter placed our steaks in front of us with a flourish.He flashed a smile at Jeri, and she just waived him off. "Geez, this place is ridiculous, but they do have great steaks. Eat up."
We shared a big smile at the expense of our waiters, and the ice seemed to be broken.

"Look. The thing is, that you're doing great with the big auditions. Everybody loves you - but you can't just expect to beat out Jennifer Jason Leigh, or people like that right away. And you have a kid to support. You need to make some money, right?"
"Right..." I said cautiously.
"SO... sitcoms are the bread and butter of acting. AND they're a great way to sort of break into the whole game. Know what I mean?"
I didn't know anything, but I nodded anyway.
"And you're not doing so hot on the sitcom auditions, ok?"
"Yea..." I said, squirming in my seat. I hated that crap.
"Look, I think you're a really good actress, and there's NO reason why you shouldn't be making some decent money doing some sitcoms - but you just don't get it. They're kind of a style all their own, if you know what I mean. The acting is...different.You just need to watch some on TV, and you'll start booking them in no time. I want you to be able to feed that cute kid of yours!"

At the end of the lunch, Jeri gave me $200, and told me to go buy a TV. "TONIGHT!" she said.
So, I did. She said she'd pay herself back out of my first sitcom money.

After a week of watching sitcoms every night (Max didn't mind too much), I booked my first one. Jeri was so pleased with me. And I was pretty happy about it, too. It was a lot of money. I had had no idea how well these sitcom jobs paid!

It was Mr. Belvedere.
The first of many lovely sitcoms, that are STILL paying me to this day.
And that very first lesson that I was supposed to learn on Mr. Belvedere, well I just wish I had learned it a WHOLE LOT BETTER way back then.

Banking my Bad Valentine's Day Karma.

I have just come out on the other side of a pretty bleak and lonely Valentine's day. ANOTHER rotten one.Am I surprised? No. Not at all. You see, I put this Karma in the bank. I didn't MEAN to - but I SURE did. Listen, and learn.

I have introduced you already to David Poynter - the footman in 'Les Liaisons..', and I have told you that he was responsible for one of my all time great Valentines. One of only two. Let me now tell you that he was a great boyfriend the whole time we went out - off and on as it was - with very little exception. I was the crazy one. For some reason, at the ripe old age of 23, I was determined that David and I needed to go further. To dial it in. Put it in the bank.I needed to feel safe. And (apparently) David being there for me, sharing the responsibility of a very young Max with me, loaning me his car when I needed it,and doing altogether off the charts romantic things for me - was NOT enough. I should have listened and felt his ACTIONS - but I was hung up on three little words. Words he was not prepared to say. When we got into an argument about it (ending always in me crying my eyes out), he always said "I will only say that to one person, Jennifer. That will be the woman that I am going to marry."

I wanted to be that person - but I screwed it all up, royally.

Let me now tell you that we had some others "issues", as they say. Before you go off thinking that I am an altogether horrible person.(which I may be, let's face it) When we got to LA together - DAVID was the one with the contacts. HE was the one with interviews at two of the best agencies in town. I merely drove him to the interviews, and without any effort on my part (beyond waiting in the lobby) - BOTH agencies wanted to sign me, and NOT David. This was not easy. Not for him, and not for me. I felt like I was stealing his moment - but HONESTLY - I did nothing except drive him to said interviews and wait patiently in the lobby. Both times - THEY spotted ME. It was a MAJOR stroke of luck for me - because getting a good agent in this town is MORE than half the battle.In my heart and soul, I know I did nothing wrong as it applies to THAT.

BUT, the coming weeks and months were tough for us.I got acting work before I could get a waitressing job. And another, and another - which ended up meaning I never had to get a waitressing job. I was off and running. And David was more or less ok with it until I moved into 2730 Hollyridge Drive.(I believe Eva Mendes lives there now)
It was quite a step up from Korea Town.I needed a room-mate to split the bills so that I could afford it, but even so - it was a beautiful house with views of the city to die for. And I was doing well enough that soon every time we wanted to go to dinner, I was paying. Wanted to go to the movies, I was paying. David needed new headshots....well, you get the picture.
And it wasn't a problem for ME. But it was a little bit of a problem for David.

Christmas rolled around while I was living on Hollyridge, and once again, David wanted to go his separate way. I was not invited back to Kentucky with him for Christmas, and he wouldn't come with me to Austin. And then, right before we were both going to leave for the holidays, something bad happened.

We had a scare.I was late, and thought I was pregnant. The first test was positive.
David freaked out and said horrible things to me. He said it would be the WORST thing that could possibly happen to him. I wasn't going to let him get away with that so easily.

"Worse than getting in a motorcycle accident and losing...a LEG, for instance!?" I demanded.
"Yes." he said, coldly. "You having this baby would be worse."

I tested him and pleaded with him. I didn't think I could get rid of HIS baby. OUR baby. I was so in love with him - it didn't seem possible. And I was on my WAY. I was making good money - and had EVERY confidence that with David at my side, I would make even more! Money was not an issue. But David did not budge an inch.He held fast that this would be the WORST thing that could possibly happen to him, and he left for Kentucky on those terms.

The day after he left (without me), I got my period.
Of course it was a HUGE relief.

Max and I got on a plane to Texas, and I made the motions of going through Christmas with my family, with a dull ache in my heart the whole time.
On Christmas Eve, David called me up.
It was a terrible call. I told him that I loved him, but if he couldn't say the same thing back to me, and if he was still convinced that having a baby with me would be the WORST thing that could possibly happen to him, then it had to be over. I couldn't take it. I was already there. I wanted him to move in with me, be my partner, make me his family - the whole nine yards. And he didn't feel that way about me.
So, that was that. We broke it off on Christmas Eve, over the phone.I was heartbroken. It was a terrible Christmas. But at the end of the call, David said, "We can still be friends, right?"

I paused for a moment, thinking.
"Of course we can be friends. We've gone through so much together." I replied.
I loved him so much. I couldn't just turn it off like a switch. That much I knew.
But I was determined to get over him. To conquer the pain and rejection that he had handed out to me in such a heavy dose.

This is where an Interlochen friend comes into the story.
Eric Voetberg and his brother, Patrick, were living in LA, not far from me. And Patrick had become a really close friend. For whatever reason, we had become comfortable sharing our deepest secrets and thoughts. So, he knew my about my problems with David. Intimately.

"Jennifer!" he would say, "You deserve something better than this! You really do."
And Patrick started to mention a friend of his on a VERY regular basis. Pen. Pen Pendleton.

Patrick invited Pen Pendleton to the play that I produced (with David's help), and stayed after so that he could introduce us.
"I really liked the play." Pen Pendleton said to me, as we were all cleaning up the lobby.
"Thanks." I tossed off to this stranger wearing a Brooks Brother's suit.(He was the ONLY one wearing a suit to that play, I can assure you!)
"Thanks for coming! And thanks for dressing up." I said in sardonic tone.
Patrick stepped in to his friend's defense, "He's just coming straight from work. This is the ...uh...friend I've been telling you about."
"Oh." said I. "Well, thanks for coming."

Not long after that, I threw a party. A Halloween party.
We filled the bathtub with dry ice, and threw all of the beer in there. And my roomy worked with a bunch of TV and movie people, so some of the costumes were OFF the HOOK!
I was busy looking after Max, and hosting this party, so I barely remember Pen Pendleton being there. But he was.

Then, right before Christmas, David and I went to this dance club on the west side that Patrick's friends did. (and Pen's) It was GREAT! The greatest dance club I've ever been to in LA. It was a Mexican restaurant during the day, then on the weekend nights, it transformed into a dance club. (reminded me of a place we used to go to in NYC) They played GREAT music - bottom line. Stuff it's hard NOT to dance to. And, lo and behold - Pen Pendleton was there. They were his friends, doing this club, and he was pretty game. More fun than I had given him credit for - showing up in his suit to my artsy, edgy little play.

Before the night was through, he caught my arm and asked me if he could call me sometime. I gave a sideways glance to where David was flirting with some cute girls (or they with him, more likely) and said, "Yea. Sure thing. Get my number from Patrick."

New Year's Eve rolled around. I partied at my Mom's house with a big hole in my heart. David didn't call to say 'Happy New Year', but Pen Pendleton did. Well, why should he call? We were over. All done. Who knew who he was spending New year's Eve with in Kentucky.

Back in LA, Mr. Pendleton didn't waste any time in calling me up.
Our first date was amazing, even though I chattered away nervously like a little monkey the whole time. He had obviously done his homework. Pen Pendleton took me to a fantastic French restaurant that was beyond glamorous and elegant. He picked me up in his cherry 1966 Thunderbird convertible. And he paid for dinner. A real gentleman. Just as Patrick had described. OH! And before I forget - Patrick volunteered to babysit so that I could GO on this epic first date that he had been nudging me towards for months!

Pen and I dated our way towards Valentine's day. And in the meantime, David was acting confusing as hell.
He wasn't spending the night, wasn't kissing me - but he WAS around. A little. His birthday was coming up, and he let me know he didn't have any plans. So, I decided to take him out for his first lobster. As a friend.
We had a great time. And I was starting to feel comfortable as his friend.I think a lot of pressure was off, and it was nice for both of us. But it was hard, too. I just kept going back to, "Why am I not good enough for him?" , while David seemed to think everything was better now than it ever had been. He even said so. Some evening when he was saying good night to Max and I, after some platonic engagement, he said, "This is great. Don't you think?"
I just looked at him. What the hell was he saying?
"I mean, it's just better than ever, seeing each other once or twice a week..."
I looked at him and nodded as my heart collapsed YET AGAIN. We weren't sleeping together, or even kissing - I was dating someone new (I hadn't told him yet - what was the point?)and THIS was the BEST it's BEEN!!!?????
I guessed he was right. This must be the best thing for us. Friendship, and nothing more. That was cool. I could handle it.

I mulled over the prospect of telling David that I was dating someone new. But, first it was his birthday, and I knew he was blue about work, etc. So, I decided to take him for lobster, and NOT say anything. Then, it was Valentine's day - and it could wait for a couple of days! Who wants to hear something like that on VALENTINE'S day!!???

So, I waited. And then David surprised me by asking me if we could do something on Valentine's day.
"I have to cater this big party on Catalina that night, but I thought we could go for a bike ride or something during the day. What do you think?" he asked me.
"Well, ok." I said - pretty confused. He was in such a good mood with us being friends (JUST friends), and I thought, "WEll, maybe this is how it's supposed to be.." ...but nobody wants to feel entirely alone on Valentine's day, so...what harm is a bike ride? Clearly it was a PLATONIC date.

David and I rented bikes that morning and rode from Venice to the Palisades, then back again.It was a beautiful day, and it was great fun. When it was time to say good bye, David kissed me on the cheek, leaving me feeling free of any romantic commitment to him. And, free of any illusion that HE might still be harboring some such romantic commitment.

I had a date with Pen Pendleton that night. And Mr. Pen Pendleton came through in a BIG way.
He was in cahoots with my room-mate, because after he took me to dinner, he proceeded to keep me outside in the dark for awhile, then led me into the bathroom with the giant jacuzzi tub, which he had filled with bubbles and filled the room with balloons. There he had a bottle of cold chapaigne waiting with 2 frozen glasses. There were also rose petals all over my bed.

This was obviously the first hard core attempt to get me into the proverbial sack. And it worked.

Just as most of our clothes were coming off, Pen and I heard a noise from the hall.
"Shhh." I warned Mr. Pendleton. (It might have been Max waking up)
We stayed quiet for a moment, listening. Then, when nothing more seemed to happen, we carried on.
About 2 minutes later, the door to my bedroom burst open, and David stood there - in complete shock.
I was in shock, too. I don't believe anyone said anything. David just stood there, looking horror stricken. Then he left. Slamming the door behind him.

I felt beyond terrible.
I had withheld this information (of me dating someone new) only so that I wouldn't hurt him - on the OFF CHANCE that it would. But I HAD withheld it. I was guilty.
I couldn't HELP but put myself in his shoes - and it was HORRIBLE! I wouldn't want to trade places with him for anything!

But it gets worse.
The next morning, I woke up from barely sleeping, and went about my usual morning routine. Coffee first. I opened the cabinet where the coffee was kept, and found a heart shaped candy with a message on it. 'Be mine.' And a little present, wrapped up with gold ribbon. Everywhere I went - my bathroom, etc - there was another candy with a message, and another tiny present wrapped up with love and thoughtfulness. David was tiptoeing through my house, delivering candy messages of love and little presents when he heard me with Pen in my bedroom. Every single thing that I routinely did in the morning - he knew - anticipated, and put a message forth in that place.

I sank down on the hall stairs, with my hands full of David's little treasures. Max was calling to me from the other room already - but I couldn't think - everything was swimming. Everything was beyond terrible.
I put myself in his shoes - planning this surprise - possibly hoping for a reunion on Valentine's day - sneaking around the house to locations known only to myself and David - then - opening that bedroom door to find me with another man. Horrible. Just horrible.

I don't have anything more to say about this right now. Only that I have not had one happy Valentine's day since ....and no wonder.

No wonder at all.

Etta James I just wanna make love to you

David's Valentine.

As I mentioned in my last story, there were 2 great Valentine's in my life.

The second was with David Poynter. Yes. The footman in 'Les Liaisons Dangereuses' who drove a motorcycle and seduced me with his cute kittens.

That first opening night evening was the beginning of our romance, and by Valentine's day, we were hot and heavy. Every night of the run of the show we were together (naturally), and after that, I was doing 'A Christmas Carol', and David was auditioning for movies. But we were inseparable. Everything with us was super charged. Super romantic. Somehow, when I get together with my polar opposite, an Aquarian - watch OUT! David was my FIRST Aquarian, and although I don't REALLY believe in all that stuff, I'm sort of terrified and intrigued with Aquarian men, because they ALWAYS do a number on my head and heart. And body. I have to say that, because it's true. But it's always ALL wrapped up together - you see? And that can be a little crazy making!

For example, one night during intermission of 'Les Liaisons', David came and grabbed my hand. He pulled me into his chest and kissed me hotly on the mouth.
"Come with me." he whispered.
I followed him as quickly as I could in my giant dress. He led me backstage through a corridor I had never been down. He took me deep into the back section of the theater, where much of the scene building was done, and where we were vehemently discouraged from going while the play was being put up and built. David opened a door at the end of the corridor and revealed a small room with VERY high ceilings - that was FULL of HATS! the WHOLE room was dedicated to hats! Shelves crowded the little room and went up for 2 stories, there was a ladder attached to the shelves that rolled around them - shelves and shelves of HATS! It was so extraordinary! And on the floor, there was a huge mess of hats in progress, or hats in various states of demise! And fabric! And feathers! And bags of buttons and what-nots! It was WONDERFUL!!!!

And into this pile of fabric and hats, David pulled me down, and made love to me right there in my giant, heavy dress with my authentic, whalebone corset in tact. His powdered wig was off, his buckled shoes thrown to the side. The footman and the virgin making love in the hat room of the Dallas Theater Center, while the subscription holders waited in line for their cocktails, or braved the dangerously steep steps down to the powder rooms.

I was head over heels in love with David. And lust. And...everything. It was the full package. And I knew it from the very start. If I had had one single doubt, he banished that one by putting a kitten on my chest on our first date. Unfortunately, I was nuts.

Anyway, by the time Valentine's day rolled around, we had been together for several months, and we were both DEEP into it.

David asked me out for Valentine's day, like a proper gentleman. He picked me up and took me to his place to start. He sat me down and gave me a card that he had made. (Oh, gentlemen! Please know how FAR a home made card goes on Valentine's day!!!) He watched my face as I opened it. I still HAVE this card. I TREASURE it.
The card said this : One gift for each of your exquisite senses. For your delicious taste buds, a romantic and decadent dinner. For your delicate sense of smell, a bouquet of the freshest and most fragrant flowers. For your pretty ears (which I love to kiss), a concert. A concerto. For your sense of touch (your quivering skin, alive with reception), a massage, and then....what ever may follow. I love you. Please be my Valentine....always.....David.

What girl, what woman could possibly resist such a Valentine?
He made good on all of his sensual promises.
The next two and a half days (for this was an extended Valentine's gift) were full of romance and pleasure such as dreams are made of. He had no money. All of it was done on nothing but good intentions. His room-mate was a massage therapist - he borrowed the massage table to give me a fantastic and SEXY massage. The concerto was a free one. His friend worked at the fancy restaurant, and gave David a deal on dinner. The flowers were bought wholesale. And the card - that I treasure to this day - was made from construction paper and magazine clippings.

For all romantics in the world, I say this to you. What ever effort you may make, whatever fool you may think you have made of yourself if things don't go right for eternity, please KNOW THIS - it will be treasured. No one can take away the experience of love. And your home-made valentine, whatever story lies behind it, is probably in some box - hidden (as all treasures are) by the love you gave it to. It was real. And stays real. There is NOTHING MORE real than that. The experience, the memory, the love.

Tom's Valentine

Out of all of my romantic adventures, and silly ones and crazy ones and sexy ones, only two Valentine's dates stick out as great ones. They were both a LONG time ago, and I'm pretty sure I know the reason for my consistently bad Valentines from then on.

But - let me begin with the two very, very good ones. GREAT ones.

The first great Valentine's date I refer to was when I was still in high school - BEFORE Interlochen. I was only 14, and going to a Catholic girl's school in Dallas, TX. Ursaline Academy.I was living with my Grandmother - the wonderful one with the dress shop, who ended up sending me to Interlochen. The rest of my family had had it with Dallas and moved back to Austin, and I was asked by my father (for various reasons) to stay on with my Grandmother and help her out with the shop (I LOVED that shop!) and with my dying Grandfather.So I did.

I was happy as a clam at my Grandmother's house (even with death skirting around like a hungry coyote), and happy as can BE at her dress shop. Nothing phased me about her world. Even when the shop was robbed and I had to go down with her in the middle of the night and talk to the police. Even when my Grandfather died and she kept talking to him as if he were still in the room for a few months. I felt comfortable, confident and needed in that world. But SCHOOL - well, that was another story.

School at the Ursuline Academy of Dallas felt like a prison sentence that I had to endure every day. The other girls were SUPER mean to me. Not just ignoring me (I would SOOO have preferred that!), but taunting me out loud every chance they got. The first week of school was Freshman hazing week, and I was singled out and required to put a bag over my head and sing 'I'm So Pretty' from Westside Story at the top of my lungs while standing on a table in the crowded cafeteria at lunch time. From then on, I brought sandwiches and ate outside.

I was a straight 'A' student who was taking mostly honors classes, and Latin. I wore glasses, and didn't see any point in wearing makeup to an all girls school, or putting hot rollers in my hair every morning. For this I was teased loudly and viciously.So, I kept my head down, and tried to stay out of the way. BUT - I am not altogether a SHY person. As many of you know. I have a silly streak a mile long and am not opposed to making a fool of myself on occasion, or doing whatever I want, saying whatever I want when I feel inspired.

So, I was talked into going to the first big dance (with our brother school,a Jesuit one) by my only 2 girlfriends, and I decided to go in roller-skates. Why NOT?!!! Things couldn't get any WORSE for me, socially. And at this dance, I was found by a lovely, charming, great looking Jesuit Junior who thought it was mad fun that I came in roller-skates. His name was Tom Lyde. He looked like Tom Cruise, with one slightly crooked tooth in front (which somehow made him even cuter), but a little taller, and a smile that made everyone around him smile.

These were the days that girls looked around hopefully when 'Stairway to Heaven' started playing, and hoped that they wouldn't get stuck with some sweaty boy with bad breath for that ENDLESS slow dance. I usually got stuck with THAT boy for the longest slow dance of all time, but THIS night, THIS dance, was different. Tom saved me.He asked me to take the roller-skates off so we could dance, and we only did the slow ones - because he said he "couldn't dance". He walked me out of the dressed up gym, disco ball scattering light over our faces (looking JUST like a first high school dance SHOULD look) and asked me if he could call me up for a date. I said "yes" with full on TERROR in my heart - not because I didn't want to - I wanted to SO badly - but because I WASN'T allowed to DATE! I didn't want him to know that. I think I even lied about my age in a VERY stupid moment (he would find out I was a Freshman soon enough) - and I just went home and crossed my fingers.

I snuck out of my bedroom window the first few time we had a "date". And our "dates" consisted of me meeting him at the park by my house at abut 8 pm and kissing in his car for an hour with the radio on.
And the first time I met up with him to snog like mad in his back seat, he said something so impressive to me, that I later shared it with Max (when HE was approaching 'snogging age')and a whole car full of his friends.

In the front seat of his car, Tom took both of my hands in his and looked me in the eyes, very seriously.
"Jeni," he said, "there's something very important I want to tell you before we start dating."
(Of course I was terrified. I had never been on a DATE before, and he was older, I didn't know WHAT to expect!)
"I just want you to know that my family is Catholic.." he started. (what did THAT have to do with anything?)"..and I mean we're REALLY Catholic. We actually GO to Church every Sunday, and say grace before we eat, and all of that stuff."
I nodded solmenly.
"So, I don't believe in sex before maraige. I just don't. So, we can have fun, and fool around, and no matter what - I will NEVER pressure you into having sex - or even ask for it. And I have HUGE respect for women, so if I EVER even do anything that you're not comfortable with, all you have to do is let me know. And I won't be upset by that, or irritated - or ANYTHING. OK?"

Was it OK!!!???? Glory hallelulia! That was about the BEST thing a boy could have said to me right then! Whew! PRESSURE OFF!!! Bells RINGING, green light ON!!! SCARY SEX - OFF the TABLE!!!! Free to make out to your heart's content, little 14 year old virgin!
I smiled at him and nodded. "Yes. That is MORE than ok. I haven't...you know.Well, I haven't done ANYTHING yet." I confessed to him. (He still thought I was a grade older)

"Good." he said, pleased. "And there's one other thing. I don't drink.I mean - not at all.I won't even drink a beer until I'm eighteen. (legal drinking age in TX back then) So, if I take you to some parties, and everyone else is drinking - they ALL do - and YOU want to drink, or whatever, that's ok with me. But you will always know that you're safe getting into a car that I'm driving, because I don't do that. I just don't even want to.I don't need it, I'm having enough fun without any of that stuff. I'm always going to get you home safe, Jeni."

Wow. That was a LOT of good information. I was safe, no pressure on the scary sex front AND - HE WAS GOING TO TAKE ME TO PARTIES!!!!!! HA!

Tom Lyde changed my high school life. He was my savior.
About a week after our first contraband date, he drove by Ursuline, during my math class (he knew I was there - I don't know how!) which was looking out over the back driveway of the school (my desk was in the back, right by the window)with a whole truck full of Jesuit boys. They were all screaming and honking at us - but the loudest voice was Tom's.
He yelled out "Hey Jeni!!! How's that math class?!! JENI!!!"
Then all the boys in the bed of the truck mooned us, with Tom yelling out as they blazed off, "That was for you, Jeni!!"
My popularity rose about ninety percent after that. Tom was one of the MOST popular boys in school.

We "dated" for 2 years. My Mom and grandmother finally gave in and allowed it, both of them ending up charmed to their core by Tom. In fact, for many years, my Mom would say, "Whatever happened to that cute Jesuit boyfriend of yours? I wish you could have ended up with HIM."
We kissed and went four wheeling in his always evolving truck, went to the movies, to parties where neither of us had much to say to all the 'popular' kids who were getting wasted to the point of throwing up, he came to see me in all of my plays, and always kept his word about not pressing me for sex, and not drinking. I always felt safe with him, but at the same time, we had MAD chemistry. We always ended up leaving each other at the end of the night in a state of complete physical torture. And we hardly ever fought or even had an 'off' night. But, the second year we were together - we got in a fight about something. Something stupid. I can't remember what for the life of me.It was the week of Valentine's day.

Hurt and defiant, I asked my Grandmother if I could have a little Valentine's day party. Much to my surprise, she said yes. Tom was not invited, and the quarterback from a different school was. The party was elegant and fine, my grandmother was charming, and excused herself early in the evening, and the quarterback was gorgeous and attentive. But I missed Tom. It didn't seem right to be having Valentine's day without him. He was my very, VERY first puppy-love, and as much as I was TRYING to be in denial about it - I MISSED him already, and it had only been 3 days since we had spoken.

As I was cleaning up after the party, the front doorbell rang. It was midnight.
My grandmother shuffled to the door in her robe, a little upset that someone was calling at such a late hour. "My goodness, Jennifer!" she complained as she went to answer the door.
"Sorry, Granny. Someone probably forgot something." I said. But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't the case.
"Well, it's Tom." she said in a conspiratorial whisper as she peeked back around the open door at me. "What should I do?"
I shook my head, 'no'. "Tell him I'm already asleep or something."
My grandmother clucked a little over this drama and shook her head. "Well, don't you want to see him?" she whispered to me in a loud whisper. I shook my head 'no' again.
My grandmother turned to Tom, sadly. "I'm afraid she doesn't want to see you just now.I'm sorry."
She shut the door and shook her head at me. She loved Tom and thought I was being mean to him. She was right.
As my grandmother shuffled off to bed, I watched Tom walk back to his truck from the front windows. A sinking feeling pulled my heart down like a lead weight. I stood there, with only one lamp still on, the formal living room full of pink and red balloons, vases filled with pink and red carnations, in my pink dress, knowing I was doing the wrong thing. The pride devil had it's hold on me. I felt terrible, and stupid and stuck.

But when Tom got to his truck, he didn't get into it to leave. He reached in and pulled something out. Then he came back with both arms full (it was really dark) and plopped down on the lawn right in front of me on his knees.
"Jeni..!" he called to me through the windows."I can't sing, but...here goes."
And with that, he pressed a button on his boom-box that he'd dragged out of his car, and serenaded me with the Spinner's 'Workin' My Way back to You.'

"Jennifer!" my grandmother called out from deep down the hall, "Cut that racket out! You'll wake every one in Christendom!"

I ran to the front door and flung it open, ran to Tom on the grass and flung my arms around him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I said, as I covered him with kisses.
"YOU?", Tom laughed."I'm sorry I was a stupid ass!" He hugged me so tightly I could barely breath. "I thought I'd lost you, Jeni."

At that romantic, movie moment, my Grandmother made an appearance at the front door in her nightgown.
"Now, Tom! You just turn that thing off and come in this house! Turn it off! It's midnight!" and with that, she turned and went back in.

We turned off the boom-box and went inside, where Tom showered me with gifts. Roses, perfume and chocolates in a heart shaped box.I snuck him back into my bedroom for the first time that night. We kissed and talked and snuggled happily there in my bed until the sun came up. Neither of us took any of our clothes off (except for our shoes), and that was just as it should be. It was the PERFECT Valentine's night for a 15 year old girl, and one of the sexiest nights of my life.

Max Hangs with the Olsen Twins.

The next day, after my call back for 'Full House", and the pirate incident, my agent rang me up.

"Well, they love you. You're their favorite, but they want to see you wearing something else. They thought your outfit was kind of weird."
"Ok..." I said. I had worn brown corduroy shorts with moss green tights and boots."Like what?" I asked.
"They actually requested jeans. They want you to come back wearing jeans."
"Ok." I shrugged. It was another trip over to Sony, but, whatever.

I went back to Sony in jeans and a little t-shirt, and they gave me the part. I remember Bob Saget (who was in the room both times) joking relentlessly about the fact that his producers and director could NOT imagine what I might look like in jeans, and therefore dragged me all the way back over there. I didn't bring Max that time. But I DID bring him to rehearsal the next day. The receptionist that fell in love with little Max told everyone what a cute kid I had, and they volunteered that I could bring him all week to hang out and play with the Olsen twins in their super-bomb green room. So I did.
Besides, I had a surprise for Max!

The reason that all of those pirates were hanging around the Sony lot (where 'Full House' was shot) was that Steven Spielberg was filming 'Hook' on 2 or 3 of the biggest sound stages there. I had spoken to one of the pirates again, and he had let me peek into one of them. I met some of the art department guys, and asked them if I could bring my kid over to see the giant sets in the next few days. They were really nice about it.

Those old fashioned sit-coms were the sweetest gigs in the world. I DREAMED of getting one that would be a steady gig - it would have been GREAT with a kid (or kids). The week always started out REALLY slow and easy. Get to the soundstage at 10am, have coffee and donuts, meet the cast and writers,director, stage manager, etc. Do a table reading of the script, everyone sitting around a big table. Sometimes there were interruptions,a bit of add-libbing by the cast - sometimes full on silliness. Then an early one hour break for lunch (sometimes 2 hours), partly so that the writers could do rewrites and hear them after lunch again. Sometimes I met with the wardrobe people on that first day - but often it didn't happen until day 2, so the first day was SUPER easy and short. We usually got to leave at 2 or 3 pm. Then the week got progressively more intense, and more hours, up until taping day. Taping day was the long one. You'd get there at 9 or 10 in the morning and wouldn't be done until 9 or 10 at night - many times even later. But no complaints from ME! I LOVED the sit-com schedule. Compared to dramas - it was a DREAM week!

And, as far as the Olsen twins went, they didn't even have to read at the table reading that first day. SAG rules for children are very strict. For good reason. They spent most of their time going to "school" on set and playing around. They were really little. Same as Max.

So, after Max and I were done with our first, easy, fun day on 'Full House', I took him over to the soundstage for 'Hook'.
My new friends, pirates and art department guys, let us in.

I will never forget Max's face as he gasped in wonder at that set! Put yourself in a little boy's mind, and imagine that you are being let into a HUGE, GIANT room that is immediately full of WATER, all the walls around painted beautifully to look like sky and port, and a HUGE, life-size ship floating in the water 3 feet in front of you. The port and dock portion of the set was built up, too - not merely painted - and the overall effect was that of entering into a little boy's dream. I am actually getting choked up now just thinking about it. It was THAT spectacular!
Max was speechless for more than a moment. I was, too! It was REALLY, REALLY incredible! There the ship was - we could touch it, gently bobbing on the water, creaking even, a little.
"Mom!" Max finally let out. "It's a REAL SHIP!"
My whole heart just about burst with happiness. All of this struggling for acting, being poor, being unsure of my next paycheck - felt paid off in that moment. Other parents with big, suburban houses didn't get to take their kids HERE! Into Spielberg's magical pirate world!I smiled at Max, and it felt like my smile was so big it would split my face.
"Yea. " I said. "It IS a real ship!"

They let us walk around a little, and then the main art department guy said, "If you come find me tomorrow, I'll show you the OTHER set! It'll BLOW your mind!"
Max and I nodded our heads in excitement. I felt like just as much of a kid as him! It was SOOOOO cool!

The next day we got into the blocking and more re-writes on 'Full House'. Max had no trouble whatsoever with the Olsen twins - except they both liked him so much that all they wanted to do was play with him. They didn't want to do their "school" or anything, and towards the end of the day, one of them refused to come onto the set to do her line unless Max came out with her.It was pretty cute.

Bob Saget was super nice to me. We had a kissing scene at the end of the show - and it was fun! Everyone was nice to me - EXCEPT John Stamos.He was a jerk. I think he was used to every girl that guest-starred being all crushed out over him, and when I clearly WASN'T, he got pouty and rude.
But the FUNNIEST thing to ME about being on that show, was that Bob and Dave Coulier were SO crude on set! I had seen them IN the show - all squeaky clean and G-rated - and I was SHOCKED at how SUPER FUNNY and ...well, NOT G-rated they were. The poor nanny and producers kept trying to shush them around all the kids, but they were NOT always successful. And the two older girls would just look at me and roll their eyes. They seemed to take it in stride.

After a day of laughing almost non-stop, Max and I finally had our chance to see the other sound stage.
We found the sweet art department guy, and as promised, he let us in to a WHOLE OTHER WONDERLAND.

This time, when the doors opened, they revealed the set of the lost-boys' tree house. I don't know if you have ever seen the movie, 'Hook', but if you have - you will know that it wasn't just a tree house - it was a crazy roller-coaster type ride that twisted and turned in these HUGE fake trees, with tons of vines and crazy looking, giant flowers. Again, it was AMAZING!
just BEING on that set made you feel like a kid in a beautiful, fantastical dream!

Max wanted to go on the roller-coaster ride so badly, but of course they couldn't let him.It was so cool, though. He couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks.

The small world part of this story, is that two years ago, my brother's good friend (and mine) moved into my downstairs apartment. His name is Ted Korsmo, and his brother is Charlie Korsmo - who played the kid in 'Hook'. He had been flown out to LA by his parents to visit his brother on the set of 'Hook', and not long ago we shared our stories about those crazy, amazing sets.

The one little bummer for me, was that I had auditioned for two different parts in 'Hook'.I didn't get either of them, but I did get called back, and got to read for Steven Spielberg in his bungalow.

As I put Max to sleep after that week of 'Full House', singing him to sleep as I always did, I thought about how fun it would have been to be IN that movie.I could have taken Max onto the set as an ACTOR that was a PART of it. And then, I would have been in one of his favorite movies for all time.

Oh well. That was just one of many, many roles I wanted so badly, and didn't get. But, hey. I'm not dead yet. Maybe I'll still do something cool one of these days.

Max meets the pirates.(or, auditioning for 'Full House'.)

I have had many memorable auditions in this town. But this sticks out as the MOST memorable.

Back in the day, I mostly dragged Max with me to auditions. This was one of those days. I was auditioning for 'Full House', on the Sony lot - previously the MGM lot. This was a call- back for producers, and (as usual) I was running late. I parked my POS car in the lot, and dragged Max - trying to get him to hurry - by the hand towards the guard gate. Max was 5 at the time. He was lollygagging around, so I was literally "dragging" him behind me.

"Where is Bungalow - ?" I demanded of the guard.
"Well, it's down this alley here," he pointed,"and then sharp turn around the corner. Just turn the corner of the next sound stage - and you'll see it across the way." he explained.
"Can you walk a little faster, Max?" I asked my child - who seemed to be moving in slow motion.

We hustled down the 'alley' and turned the corner around the first giant sound stage, as told. And there - Max stopped short.

"AHHHHwww...AH! " he cried."PIRATES!"
I looked to see what he was seeing, and sure enough - PIRATES!
They were everywhere! And the closest one to us had a REAL wooden leg! Like - a peg leg - attached to a stump! They had tattoos, and long, Pirate hair, and they were smoking cigarettes. SIXTY of them at LEAST! In full pirate costume. VERY SCARY.

Max grabbed on to the edge of my shorts ( I remember EXACTLY what I was wearing, because it was an issue at the audition) and refused to go further.

"They're not REAL pirates, Max. They're just ACTORS! They're on break, or something!" I said, impatiently.
Max shook his sweet little, blonde head and pointed to the pirate with the REAL peg leg.
"What about HIM?" he asked.
I was at my wit's end. I needed to get to that audition four MINUTES ago!
"He's not REAL!" I claimed. "Come on, let's talk to him, I'll prove it to you."
So, I dragged Max (hiding behind my leg) over to the pirate with the wooden leg.
"Hi!", I said cheerfully, but hopefully indicating that I was in a rush, "My kid thinks you are a REAL pirate."
"Aaaargh!" the Pirate barked RIGHT at Max, leaning close in to him, so Max could smell his smokey/craft-service breath.
"Oooowp!" Max squeaked.
"I AM a real Pirate!" the man said in a CONVINCING manner. "How do you think I LOST me LEG!!!???"

Max FLED around the corner and hid behind the sound stage. I had to follow.
"SEE!!!??" Max said to me accusingly. "They ARE real pirates!"
"They're NOT!" I said. I didn't know what to do. As flaky as I was and am - I HATE and HATED to be late for any work thing!
"Come ON, honey!" I pleaded with Max (I didn't have TIME for this wrinkle!)
"NO, Mom!" he said, SUPER scared. "I don't want to see those PIRATES!"
But then he did something .....different. Max peeked around the corner. HA!
I could tell, all of a sudden, that he was SUPER intrigued and excited about the Pirates - as well as being scared. Like any little boy who was that age. REAL PIRATES! They were COOL , as much as they were scary.
"OK. " I said, this new information at hand. "This is what we're going to do." I looked at Max and pretended we were a covert team. Like 'Mission Impossible'. "We are going to RUN right through all of those pirates, and SMASH into the Bungalow on the other side! Ok?"
Max looked at me and thought about it for just a second. Then he bravely nodded his head.
"This is a big job for me, ok, kid? You got my back?"
Max nodded like a trooper. I started to go around the corner, when Max stopped me.
"Hold my hand - ok?" he said.
"YES!" I said. "Good idea!" I looked down at his little, trusting face and grabbed his hand tight. "I won't let go." I promised.
We ran for the Bungalow. And those pirates hooted and hollered. They LOVED it that some kid thought they were real! They made the most of it!

We got inside of the bungalow, and I introduced Max to the receptionist - (this was a well rehearsed part of the process for us. She was a super beautiful young girl, and fell in love with Max instantly, just as they all did.) I went in , feeling a LITTLE wonky, just because Max had been so scared, made Bob Saget and his writers/producers laugh, and came out still worried about Max and the pirates.
I should not have been worried. Max, in typical form, had completely charmed the receptionist. She had given him all kinds of contraband candy and crayons and paper, and she was laughing at something he'd just said when I walked out. That 20 yr. old receptionist would have given him the keys to her car if he could drive it!

I felt great about the audition, and Max and I strolled out of the Bungalow - BOTH of us feeling like "the MAN".
But there they were.
The Pirates. Still there. Or there again. And Max was still scared.
"Come on." I said. "I know you want to talk to them."
Max just looked at me. He did. But he wasn't sure. They might cut HIS leg off, after all.
So, we went up to a different Pirate, and talked to him for a bit. Max hid behind my leg, clinging on for dear life. But this pirate was much more mellow. He convinced Max to take a look at his tattoos, and spoke more gently. He seduced Max into having a whole conversation with him - without disclosing that he was an extra, and NOT a REAL pirate.

We went home that night, and Max just felt like he was on top of the moon. A gorgeous young receptionist had fallen in love with him, and he had made FRIENDS with a pirate. Not bad for five years old.

The WORST date of my life....so far.

Valentine's day has me thinking about romance. And dating. And there is no doubt that I have had a lot of romance in my life, and a lot of dates. A lot of fantastic ones - like the ones with Gary - but also...some not so good. This is the story of the very worst one.

I was out (or so I thought) of a TERRIBLE relationship. Just brutal. One of those that shake you to your core, maybe you won't survive kind of relationships. And I was NOT eager to start dating again. But my best friend, Mieke had found the love of her life, and she was anxious for me to get out there and start 'healing'. She was convinced that there were plenty of good men in Los Angeles. I was starting to think that this city had made them extinct.
Anyway, we were down at my local pub one night (Bird's) and the bartender developed a huge crush on Mieke - through no fault of her own - and started buying all of our drinks for us. This NEVER happens in LA. Not even at Bird's. But who could blame this sweet bartender? Who could blame ANYONE for falling head over feet for Mieke? She was and is the most scrumptious, Dutch bon-bon you can possibly imagine!

As we got tipsy, Mieke became more committed to her mission. That was - to convince me that there were LOVELY men all around LA, and that I could be dating any number of them, if I would just give it a shot.
Sure enough, a fairly attractive man was sort of staring at me. I tried to avoid his gaze, but Mieke smiled at him.
"You see?" she said. "What about him? He's cute! And he's CLEARLY into you!"
I peeked at the guy around Mieke's shoulder, like a scaredy-cat. "I don't know..." I mumbled.

Before I knew it,that guy was right over with us, Mieke being sweet and charming to him, and whispering in my ear, "You can give him your number! It won't HURT anything!"

I wasn't so sure, but I gave him my number as Mieke suggested. She was right, after all. I'd never meet anyone nice if I didn't take a chance every once in awhile.

I can't remember this guy's name.I have blocked it out. So, I'll just call him John.
John called me up, and asked me on a date, 2 days later. He seemed very impatient. But, with Mieke's voice in my head, I said, "Ok."
Only I didn't quite trust him, so I suggested we just meet at Bird's again (RIGHT down the street from my house - in case I needed a quick getaway), and I parked my car nearby on Canyon.

John was physically attractive. He was tall, but not too tall. Had dark, curly hair, and green eyes,with a big smile. As soon as we met at Birds, he started in on telling me all about himself. He had a great big studio in Venice - which he OWNED (that was very important, because THAT was all about him letting me know he had money), he was a musician, and a composer, and owned some weird business, he told me his astrological sign - he talked a mile a minute, never asked ME any questions. He MIGHT have been interested in the fact that I had FOUR children, if he HAD asked any questions....but...you know...it was the John show.

Then, he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere else, so that we could talk. I thought about that. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear HIM talk anymore.
"We could go to 'Daddy's'" he said. "It's right down the street, it's really cool - have you been there?"
I had NOT been there - and had been curious about it. All my friends had told me it was pretty sweet, so - for that reason alone - I decided to go.

We drove down to 'Daddy's' and settled in to a couple of cozy red leather club chairs. It was dark and sexy, with a 1930's kind of vibe. Nice. John blathered on about himself some more, and just when I thought I was about to be bored into a coma, he did something VERY odd.
This was our FIRST DATE. TOTAL STRANGERS. (just reminding you of that)
He reached over during some blathering multi-paragraph nonsense that he was spewing, and TWEAKED my nipple. Yes. That is what he did.
Through my shirt, obviously. But, I wasn't wearing a bra, and , uh....I was a little tipsy - I wasn't quite sure that it had really happened - or that it wasn't MEANT to be something else...? Who would DO that?

I excused myself right away and went to the ladies room.
My brain was doing summersaults. "Did that really happen?" I thought."It MUST have been an accident! People don't DO that!"

I went back to our club chairs, where John had procured us more drinks. I didn't think I needed any more drinks.
He blathered animatedly about something else. I sat up VERY straight in my club chair, sitting as FAR away from him as possible. Trying to look very prim and sober. I just LOOKED at my drink. I wasn't going to drink that.
And just as I was about to interrupt him, to say that I HAD to get home, he did it AGAIN!

There was NO DOUBT about it this time. He leaned over real fast and did it - hard!
I jumped up and said, "I have to go!"
"No!" he said. "You haven't even finished your drink!"
(I hadn't even STARTED my drink)
"I have to go NOW. You need to drive me back to my car, or I'll call a cab." I said.
"But it's like a RULE - that you have to finish your drink..." he pressed."It's rude not to finish a drink that someone has bought for you."
I just looked at him, appalled. "I need to go NOW. I am NOT going to finish that drink, and I guess I'll get a cab."
"Oh, you wack-job!", John said in this overly goofy 'I think I'm so cute' kind of a way,as he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. "Give me two minutes to finish MY drink, and I'll drive you to your car - IF you must!"
"I'm not giving you two minutes." I said. "I need to leave NOW."
Like most women in their mid to late thirties, I LOVED being called a 'wack-job' by a stranger that had just violated cardinal date rule NUMBER ONE : do NOT tweak a girl's nipple on a first date - and possibly NEVER ....in PUBLIC.
I stormed out of 'Daddy's', and John followed me.
"Oh, come ON.." he whined. "My car is right here! I'll drive you back!"
So, I let him drive me back to Canyon, where my car was parked ( I could have walked home), and as I was going to my car, John continued his weirdness.
"Come ON!!! STay out a little longer, PLEEEEEAAASE!"
"I can't. I have to relieve the BABYSITTER."
"Oh come on! I'll give her TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS to stay a little later!" he yelled into my neighborhood. "Wait - you have KIDS???!"
"I certainly do! " I said crisply, walking towards my car in the dark. "I would have told you..."
"I LOVE kids! Let me pay the babysitter! Come ON!!!"
"Nope. She has to get home. Gotta go!"
I was almost to my car when he came up from behind me and picked me up. Threw me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
"I'm not letting you go home!" he shouted to ALL my neighbors. "I'll pay for the babysitter! I'm NEVER letting you go!!!"
I started to kick and squirm as hard as I could. And when I had freed myself, I turned to him in a passion as I opened my car. "Don't you EVER call me again! Do you understand?!!!"
"I'll pay the babysitter! " he howled at the top of his lungs. "Whatever she wants! I have LOADS of money! Whatever you want! Just don't GO!!!"
"Do NOT call me! I do NOT want to hear from you again!" were my parting words as I screeched up the hill towards my house.

A year later, I saw him at Bird's again. Which seemed odd to me, because it's really far from Venice.
I hid behind my friends, like an episode of 'I Love Lucy'. One of those friends was Mieke. I gave her a nice smack on the arm, for revenge.
But, just when I thought I had snuck out of Bird's in the clear, John started yelling at me on the sidewalk outside.
"Why didn't you answer my calls?" he yelled. I started walking faster, but he was fast.
"I LOVED you! You were like a white LIGHT! A WHITE LIGHT in my life! Why didn't you call me back!!??" ( I have witnesses for that 'white light' line. I am NOT making that up.)
I couldn't take it any more. I turned and yelled right back at him, in front of everyone.
"You were the WORST date I have EVER been on! You were HORRIBLY INAPPROPRIATE! I do not EVER want to see you or speak to you again!"
I yelled this at him on the crowded sidewalk of Franklin by Bronson. And then I hurried on to my car, as he kept yelling about his delusions of me.