The Batphone rang sometime around 8:15 AM, when most sensible Bat-folk have their phones turned off and are still in their caves sleeping. My phone was off but I was awake and on my way to the Deepest of Ellums to go to work. Once at the Dallas Stars/Eddie Belfour shrine that doubles as my desk, I was greeted by a frantic e-mail -- not quite like a spotlight in the sky, but this is the 21st Century and everyone knows e-mail is more efficient.
And why the high drama? Girl trouble.
Honestly, I never claimed to be ANY kind of expert on women (as my track record and recent history will attest to), but sadly I have more experience with the fairer sex than all my friends put together. Not that I'm some kind of Lothario, I was just blessed with a quick mind and just enough fashion sense to overcome the shortcomings of my physique. Personally, I think men asking each other's advice on women is like Ray Charles asking Stevie Wonder what color looks better on him.
But I digress . . .
With all the authority usually reserved for Texas weathermen and stock market analysts, I proceeded to walk my friend through the minefield that relationships can be.
Actually, that's not entirely true.
I really proceeded to walk my friend through the minefield that non-relationships can be. Yes, he was confounded by the state of
modern relationships since he, like me, is getting used to the minefield of -- O.K., so I'm wearing out the whole minefield metaphor, sue me. Anyway, he has questions on some topics that I genuinely have experience with: workplace romance (particularly when that workplace is a restaurant/club), a relationship that really isn't a relationship and women LOTS younger that we are. My advice came in the form of two words.
Avoid them.
Actually it was more like: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET OUT!!! GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!!!!!!"
And once my sage advice given, my friend thanked me and went happily on his way, sure to ignore everything I said.
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