THE SEARCH FOR MR. ADEQUATE
Part XV
By SUSAN SILVER

“A cautionary tale”

Last week I was at a meeting of a United Nations related group I belong to. In my “real life” I am a pro bono Observer to the UN for an International Human Rights Organization. The name shall remain nameless here as I don’t want to embarrass them with the connection to our little escapades, such as the visit to the sex shop. (Chapter, 2 remember?) Enough said.

Anyway, a very lovely young woman approached me and asked shyly if I were the same Susan Silver who had an Internet column. Oh oh. I thought about denying it as we were about to discuss such issues as genocide and terrorism, and somehow they didn’t fit with the ‘trauma’ of dating someone with a bad toupee ... but I fessed up. Besides, she’d seen the photo of me, slightly tipsy and sitting on Santa’s lap with a glass of champagne that served as my Holiday Greeting for the diary, so who was I kidding?

She told me that she loved the column and it really hit a chord in her and she ‘related totally.’ It was as though “I was living her life.” (I share these compliments verbatim not to flatter myself — although it was really cool to meet a reader and be validated that I am indeed not totally insane in my musings — but also to prove a point ... which shall be best illustrated by the rest of the tale I will tell you, following.)

I said I loved the fact that it touched her, but how old was she...twenty-five?

She was twenty-six but the last of her friends to be ‘coupled.’ So I took her under my wing and told her that there is no reason for her to be living my life. She is young, pretty and most important has her whole life ahead of her as I am on the downward slope! Also, the numbers game is in her favor. But most importantly, she should be having fun! She has another thirty years to go before getting depressed!

However, force of habit, I immediately scouted the room and there was an adorable young man new to the group who looked about thirty. The plot thickens. I asked if anyone knew if he were married and got on the case to match them if he’s not. We’ll see and if not this guy, I am determined to be her duenna, (even though I am much too young and well preserved to be considered so) and ... get her off the Search.

So ... this story I’m about to tell is for you kiddo ... and you know who you are. Okay, okay ... it’s really for me or anyone who forgets that LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS WHILE YOU ARE MAKING PLANS!

“Woo woo”

My good friend, Garry Marshall, the movie director, teases me about what he calls my world of “woo woo.” Which is to say my belief in esp, my witchlike gifts and all matter of metaphysical maunderings. But having gotten a taste of it working in my life in prior diaries, you all know ... it is the world I live in! And I’m damned grateful for it!

This trip to Chicago was a perfect example of “meant to be.” Everything conspired to make me go. It was as if there were a reason and I of course immediately assumed and hoped it was to meet you know who ... our Mr. Adequate or a reasonable facsimile.

It all started with an invitation from a really neat woman I’d met in Jackson Hole at one of the Renaissance Weekends — made famous by the Clintons’ attendance but actually non partisan and wonderful gatherings of interesting, accomplished people. There are panel discussions and informal activities and it, like my Aspen forays are like adult camp and I adore coming out of my natural hibernation to attend them as often as I can.

You who have children or grandchildren have no doubt heard of “Bob the Builder.” Well, I am going to introduce you to “Beth the Brain Surgeon.”
She is a delightful little blond dynamo who was there with her handsome husband, also a doctor and two beautiful children. We clicked immediately as I assessed her correctly as a former DG (sorority of goodlooking perky non-Jewish blondes.) I myself was an AE Phi (sorority of goodlooking non- perky but very accomplished Jewish dark haired ... at the time) at Northwestern and she was like every Delta Gam I knew there. And I assumed them to be the same no matter what campus. And I was right!

We spent a little time over that weekend, probably amounting to two hours in total. But we bonded and emailed frequently. Then, one day out of the blue she invited me to come to Chicago for a small dinner party she thought I’d enjoy. And, it seemed like a good idea for the post holiday blues and since I had a free ticket to use up, I thought it was “destined’ so I said yes.

But when I tried to claim the free ticket it turned out that I needed fourteen day advance and this was only eight. I really didn’t feel like spending the money for a ticket as my numerous trips for the year to come had already been budgeted ... I’m always on the budget, remember ... so I was about to email my regrets, when I got an interrupting email from American Airlines. It offered a ‘short bounce special’ ... trip from NY to Chicago for 15,000 miles. Well, I don’t know about you, but this was beyond coincidental to me ... and I took the offer. I called several other friends who lived there, made plans to stay with one of them the first night, see the others and was all set.

I found a lucky penny in the car that took me to the airport and by now I was sure that this trip was going to be the trip of a lifetime and “he” was awaiting me at every turn ... the airport, the plane, etc. etc . You get the idea. Alas, there were no attractive men on the flight or in either airport and believe me, my head was swiveling to check, ala the Exorcist. But the city still beckoned. And I was on high alert!

“My kind of town ... ”

My girlfriends in Chicago are all younger than I and consist of two doctors and two lawyers. (The source of professions I wouldn’t mind marrying into, so I got ready for what I thought would obviously be fertile hunting ground.) The first lawyer, single, has a glorious condo overlooking the lake and a drop dead view of the city and this was my first stop. She is a lot of fun, very easy going and a world traveler who enjoys her life. And now, had just lost fourty pounds! So she was happy and it was catching. No kvetching around her. (That’s ‘complaining’ to those who don’t know the language.) So I was in a good mood and on my best behavior. Which was nice for a change! For everyone I’m sure.

The first afternoon I did my damage at a favorite store on Oak Street. I didn’t see any male prospects but had a great time shopping and realized how much I liked Chicago, not having spent much time at all in the years since college.

And then it was drinks with the next doctor friend. I’d met her in Aspen through her boyfriend, whom I had actually been fixed up with several years ago. Though not a “love match,” he turned out to be someone I liked being friends with and she was terrific, and we had spent a little time hanging out last summer. So she and I went to his house for drinks and they told me they were engaged! Of course I was very pleased for them plus let’s face it, had hopes of being invited to the wedding where there would be a cross section of Chicago men to pick from. They told me the wedding was going to be a small family affair (sigh) but there would indeed be a party in September. Okay, I can wait until then. I’m still smiling, on good behavior, remember.

Then she and I headed out for “girl’s night out.” We got into a cab where I immediately found another lucky penny! Obviously that meant “he” would be at the next stop, our dinner spot. We got to Hugo’s, a lively place in the neighborhood which we’d chosen for age appropriate clientele, she being thoughtful about my quest, and were told to wait in the bar as our table wasn’t yet available. I got my coat check which was my lucky number ... 8!
Now my head is spinning ... this is the night! Visions of sugarplums and engagement rings dance in my head. And not just hers!

I must tell you that I never “do” bars. I never have, even when younger. It’s just not my style, plus the smoke in the old days made me sick. However, this place looked fun, though jammed, and we squeezed our way in.

There was an adorable guy, dark haired and just my type, but too young standing with a group of people. I eyed the rest of the crowd and turned to my friend and said, “too young” as she agreed and said, “let’s go next door where they’re older.” Just as we turned, the cute guy touched my arm and said ... "hey, wait a minute. I heard that. We’re not 'too young.'"

Since he was about forty and I am ... not ... we started to laugh. I said, “Oh, darling, if you only knew.” He proceeded to pull us into his gang and it turns out it was his forty-third birthday and he and his wife and three other couples had flown in from Texas to celebrate. They bought us a drink and the guys were friendly and the wives were no doubt wondering ‘what’s with the old broad?’ but we stayed with them and had a ball.

I was thinking maybe they had fathers or uncles and then a really gorgeous guy was suddenly standing next to me, eyeing me but shy. He was young also ... probably in his late thirties and alone. Now, feeling forty myself, I started a conversation and it turns out he had just split with his wife and had a two-month-old baby. Everyone took out baby pictures — including me with Ben’s. (From Diary 7 and 11.) Only mine was the Cousin’s grandchild but hey ...

Our table was ready and though the Dallas crowd invited us to go bar hopping we stayed and had our dinner. Then we hit a few places in a silly search for the ‘perfect dessert’ which we overindulged in and called it a night. And a really fun one. No Mr. Right or Adequate but that had to be coming up as I was flying, feeling I was ‘in the Zone.’

The next morning was brunch with my other lawyer girlfriend, who was coming out of a long funk, being recently divorced after finding her husband had cheated on her. But having just lost 20 pounds, she was, at 39, having the kind of dating life others had in their twenties. She told me “Sex and the City” had given her ‘permission.’ I told her I didn’t want to rain on her parade as she was really having a ball, but just to use condoms. (I also pointed out that their lives were basically kind of empty and hollow and in the end the only thing that counted was the friendships with each other ... but she already knew that.) And great sex is great sex. I’m glad one of us is having some.

There were no attractive men of any age at the French Bistro where we ate. Real men don’t eat quiche, remember? But when we got into the car, I looked up and saw something shocking! There, on a sign which beckoned with an arrow, was ... my name! Susan B. Silver! “B” being my maiden name initial.

Now the “woo woo” vibe was getting scary. I next expected to hear the Voice of the Lord or at least Morgan Freeman playing him, calling to me. The arrow pointed to a real estate office. I’m freaking out. What is going on? I obviously am being told something by the gods and it must have to do with Chicago. Am I to move here? I start looking around ... no one but the parking lot attendant and he is definitely not my type.

Now, if all of this prelude isn’t enough, the story takes an even more spooky turn. But I’ve run out of space Dear Reader. So come back next Friday and I will tell you the rest of the tale.

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