An Email From Allan

Oh Jane, Sweet, sweet, Jane...

Love is not found in bars, and if it is, it usually comes in a foil wrapper with a shelf life of six to eight months. You deserve so much more than that...

If you're not willing to play "Mrs. Robinson" to a potato farming neophyte from Boise then I must say that an establishment named after a flaming terrorist weapon used in the Bolshevik revolution is probably not your best choice of venues.

As for the men making unsolicited and ill-mannered advances toward you, they should thank whatever deity they think covers their respective asses that I was not there to defend your honor. Sure I might be a smidgen further away than most of my fellow six-footers, but I am trained in the arts of both Jew Dough, (the art of pummeling unleavened bread with weapons purchased at wholesale prices) as well as in full contact origami, (I can inflict a paper-cut that would make Mike Tyson cry like a baby). And, while my hands aren't officially registered with the police as weapons, they are registered at both Macy's and Crate & Barrel under the category of "cutlery" and/or "lawn furniture".

Now back to the May-December romance you almost found yourself in with Sun Valley Steve...the key word you use to describe Steve and others like him is "boy". That is the foremost indicator of where you are going wrong Ms. Winkel. That is the fly in the ointment, the hitch in your get-along and the issue at hand. "Boys" are here to earn merit badges, catch frogs and partake in the essential "alone time" in their bedrooms. All these are rites of passage, invaluable to the transition into manhood, however, as we all know, if you pick a piece of fruit from a tree that is not yet ripe then you will only taste the bitterness of impatience (and most likely will have a ruined dress on your hands...).

A man is what you need. Preferably a shorter man, an athletic, rough yet gentle man, a man that is as broad as he is tall. A man that wears his heart on his sleeve and yet always wears long-sleeve shirts. A man that can laugh with the sinners and cry with the saints, drink with the drunks and stay sober with weanies that drink Perrie. A man than can make a mean bouillabaisse, (a delicious French/Cajun Stew for those left unaware), and still be there to cut off the crusts of your grill cheese sandwich while drinking tequila from a dirty glass.

There you have it, Sweet, sweet, Jane...

You going to Molotov tonight?