Sex and the 60 - Mr Sudz

So, the beat goes on. Day in and day out you are contacted by the “swimming fish” – or the "marching matches". Their approaches are as varied as their user names. The more they are different the more they are the same -- a cute opening line and a request to view the profile and see if there is any interest. Let’s get real. The first thing you do is look at the picture, for the profile is irrelevant if the picture shows peculiarities. And there are no shortages of peculiarities:

Take for instance:

My friend - let's call her Charlotte - called me the other night.  “Samantha, I’ve been contacted by a pianist!” she said excitedly. “You know I always was soft on musicians – particularly pianists – they have wonderful hands, so expressive, so talented, so dexterous”, she cooed. “You must look at him, you must… He’s more Harry than Trey and well, there is something peculiar, but I’m not going to tell you…just look at him and see what you think”.

Now, I must admit that I am not very observant. I remember going to business events with a group of colleagues and afterwards we would decompress with a drink or two. They would be dishing about this one’s dress and that one’s shoes and how her lipstick clashed with her blouse. As far as I was concerned everyone was dressed alike – I wasn’t even sure that I had been to the same event. I saw none of it.  So, if there was something wrong with him it would have to be very evident or I was sure I would miss it and Charlotte was counting on that.

So, she gave me his user name (MrSudz) and I clicked. There sat a slightly beyond middle aged man (what did you expect? Adrian Brody in that Polansky movie? – dream on, dream on). He was a pleasant looking guy. He sat facing the camera on the edge of the bench in front of an upright piano. His fat, stubby, knurled fingers resting on his knees. (Hmmm, pianist huh? – more like a lobster fisherman).  He had scraggly graying brown hair, except at the very top of his head where he worn what looked like a curled up red fox tail -- a toupee – yes, a redheaded toupee. Oh, boy, that was too obvious. It was hideous. How could Charlotte think I could miss that?

I called her back as I gazed at him, quickly trying to find some encouraging words. “Well” I said, “it’s a very nice piano – not a Steinway, but walnut, I think. Looks like an older model and they don’t make uprights …

“No, no, no” Charlotte screamed into the phone “stop talking about the piano. What did you see, what did you see?” she demanded.

“Ok, Ok", I answered.  "I see the red toupee, it doesn’t match his hair, but well, once you got to know him you could….”

No, not that,” Charlotte replied. “I can take care of that with a little Clairol. What else? Did you notice anything - well - peculiar?

I stared hard at him trying to will myself to see the details that others see so clearly. “No, that’s it”  I said. “Well, just his hands. They don’t look like a pianist’s hands – they are red and ruddy, like they spend a lot of time in water. More like a man of the sea rather than a pianist. In fact, I think they might be wet in the picture.”

“Oh” she sighed, “yes, they do appear wet…Look around the room in the picture, Samantha - look”, she suddenly sounded defeated, resigned to the evitable.  I shifted my gaze to the top of the piano and a bottle of Tide and behind it a laundry basket came into focus. And then I raised my eyes and they collided with --- a washer and dryer!??

Did he keep his piano in the laundry room or did he keep his washer and dryer in the music room? Did he tinkle the keys while he presoaked? Did he have recitals where one could bring a small load – delicates got Vivaldi, cottons called for Wagner!?  What possessed him to use this tableau as his entry into the dating game? Oh, the mysteries of the human mind!

“I love a man who does his own laundry” Charlotte whispered. But we both knew he would never get a response to his inquiry.

It’s ok, Charlotte can always fall back on the email she got yesterday:

“I want to be honest”, he began. “I have served time in prison for 10 years. I’m out now and working on getting my life back together. Don’t have a job yet, looking for a place to live. I need a compassionate woman"…NO KIDDING!

You can’t make this stuff up - and you don’t need to!

See you next time.