I Can't See the Destiny You Sold

I was making the rounds last night, and I started chatting up this cute Northwestern guy. He was considerably older than me (late 30s? early 40s?) but was cute in a slightly paunchy silver-haired way. I checked his hands—no ring.

The silver fox was visiting from out of town, and asked me if I knew of any restaurants. I figured he'd want some company, but played it cool. Then, it happened.

"I can't be out too late tonight," he said. "My wife will be mad if I come home exhausted."

What is it with guys who don't wear a wedding band? Not only is it disappointing for me, but after I find out I've been digging on a guy with a Mrs. at home, I feel like a whore. I believe that married men should have some kind of identifying mark on them at all times. It's hard enough being single without getting into fights with a wife we didn't know existed.

The Trouble With Social Networking

In these days of Facebook and MySpace, it's hard to get excited for a high school reunion.

Last night, I logged on to Facebook and found that I'd been invited to join a group for my high school graduating class. We're coming up on our ten year reunion (?!) and one of my super-organized classmates wants to get a head start on gathering information and planning the event.

The whole fun of a high school reunion is "catching up," which is a euphemism for "finding out who got fat." But when I check the group page for my reunion, there are the slightly aged faces of the people with whom I spent my hate-filled adolescence. If they don't have private profiles, I can read all about where they're working and what their kids look like. What's the point of losing five pounds and hiring a male escort finding a date now?

Don't get me wrong—I'm still going. It just would have been more fun to show up skinnier and less miserable without people already knowing that's what's happened to me in the past decade.