THE SEARCH FOR MR. ADEQUATE
Part X
By SUSAN SILVER

First, Lizzie ... you remember, the one who never leaves the house, and gets a “delivery” from an old sex friend every couple of weeks ... which is more than most of my single friends get? Well, not only is she still not leaving the house (though she did once recently, only to move) but now she cannot get from one room to the other in the new place! There are so many packing cartons stacked up she was stuck in the foyer for hours until the doorman came to bring her a delivery, of food, only ... get your minds out of the gutter, folks. He rescued her by moving a five-foot carton of hanging clothes, which is taller than she is and which she’d been wedged behind.

Did I mention that she is also a shopaholic? And, in my humble opinion, becoming a pack rat, which she acknowledges finally. It’s been six weeks since she moved and she’s still unpacking. She realizes too late that there is not enough closet space for her clothes and shoes which number in the ... well ... never mind. It’s scary. Think shoe store in sample sizes.

And, being a size 2 (the little bitch), she can still wear the same clothes she wore in high school which are now back in style. (In fact, she says she has some grade school stuff that is ‘on the way back’ too, although jumpers and saddle shoes on a woman of fifty is not an attractive thought.) We do however still talk three or four times a day when she takes a break from unpacking and comes out of the closet ... literally not metaphorically. I have told her to get things organized and practice going outside as she is my designated “cleaner-upper.” Which means if god forbid anything happens to me, she comes in and removes all sexually explicit toys and wardrobe before the Cousin from the Midwest comes to liquidate the place and bury me.

Anyway, last night Deliveryman/lover (not doorman) forced his way through the mess but she said she actually wasn’t that interested since she was thinking of where to put her purses the whole time.

Next, is Deb ... who was thinking she’d have a shot at sex after twenty plus years of nothing, zilch, zero. Well, the shipboard romance has drowned, sunk, and any other maritime metaphor you want. Mr. Magic, whom she’d met on a cruise, had sort of been avoiding getting together other than sending a lot of emails with cute parenthesis ... which I reluctantly told her probably meant he was gay. She had decided to be more aggressive than usual, as the twenty years without sex was getting on all of our nerves, and invited him to dinner. She cleverly used the old “come and help me hang up some pictures” ruse. As women do not have etchings.

He came (over that is) with all sorts of hanging equipment except the one she was hoping for if you get my drift. He insisted on doing the cooking (he’s gay) and did so, much better than she could. Then he wouldn’t take no for an answer and cleaned up much much better than she could (he’s gay) and finally told her his life story about being reared with five sisters and how he is sick of being hit on by gay guys cruising him on the cruises. He then pleaded a busy day ahead and left early, giving her a peck on the cheek. Gay!!

She’s very disappointed as he was the first guy she’d been attracted to in like ... forever. But I told her that now the ‘beast within’ has been awakened, this is only good for future dates. Subsequently, we have had about twenty calls and emails rehashing it and oh ... here comes one. I have to answer.

“Deb. Still gay!”

Now where were we? Oh yes, my gang and their lives. My platonic friend, Stan, is still dating models and after warning him, there’s not a lot I can do. Stan is complaining, or is it bragging, that he is exhausted from “servicing” the latest model who demands sex all night long and I told him “too much information.” Just say no, Stan, just say no.

But what is interesting, and frustrating is that there are no end of girls to date guys our age and no guys our age to date girls our age if you follow me. Of course at our age we are no longer referred to as “girls,” either. And Stan really is exhausted. He is, after all, no spring chicken either.

Though, LOMY (Love of My Life) who is a man of my age, has been calling occasionally. Alas, things remain the same in that the first call is fabulous and we remember all the great things we love about each other that we don’t have with anyone else. But then he calls back and screws it up by saying something to screw it up, which we have now both agreed might be what he wants to do afterall. Screw it up. And he has.

Then there is Lil ... half of Lil and Lennie, two of my married couple friends. And I have to say probably one of the few really happy ones. This is their second marriage, each having great kids from the first. They are fun, lively people who don’t mind sharing with single friends and I am lucky to have them. They invite me to do stuff with them and to join them for weekends in their various vacation homes. And this will illustrate an important fact ... that I am to be trusted around friend’s husbands! Please note. (Not all couples include single people and I admit, when I was married, I probably didn’t do it enough myself. And now I’m being punished. But I promise I will if I ever get to be a couple again. I swear.)

I met Lil and Lennie at a barbecue in the Hamptons at which I was not having a particularly great time. They joined the table and since there was an empty seat next to me ... perhaps a reason I wasn’t having a great time ... Lil said to Lennie ... ’you sit there’ and she sat across from us.

We are talking generous lady here! Of course the fact that she is drop dead beautiful and blonde gives her confidence. And after he and I talked a while, she moved a chair and joined us and we bonded immediately. Although I do admit I had a momentary concern about her motives ... threesomes not being in my repertoire. But it turned out she thought I looked like fun and felt bad for me. Okay, she’d had a few too many that night and wasn’t thinking straight. But am I lucky or what? It happened to come at a time when I was a bit low having broken up with you-know-who for good and Lil saved me. All we do is laugh which is the best medicine. She was with me on the famous Hugh Jackman meet, as you might recall.

They are annoyingly normal however, so I probably won’t be writing anything much about them. (Note to other friends: Please continue neurotic behavior as I need the material. Somehow after twenty-five plus years, which is how long I’ve known most of the above gang, I think they’ll continue helping as they can’t help themselves! And we are grateful, aren’t we?)

Finally, I know you have been dying to find out ... what was the response to the clever, albeit perhaps too specific, and possibly too demanding Personal Ad I wrote in the column a couple weeks ago? Well I got some very interesting answers and thanks to all you guys in prison but no thanks ... for now. Check back after you are paroled. Although I did find it strange that prisoners are reading newyorksocialdiary. I guess it’s Martha Stewart’s influence making its way through the penal system.

There was a very interesting and appealing non felon, but alas the guy is, as we used to say in High School, GU. For those of you who don’t understand, that is “geographically undesirable” which in high school days meant too far to drive to. Here it is too far to fly to, although Paris is lovely, just not easy to date someone there. But, after all, I will be brushing up on my French, so you never know.

Oh and you’ll love this. Remember the guy who had me pick an event from his lists and then never called. I saw him at the Kitty Carlisle Hart evening as he hovered around our great table and actually took pictures of us — not recognizing me! Quel Putz, as we say in French.

Finally, the best news ... soon there will be hugs and there will be kisses and yes, I’m going to tell you about them! This weekend I am going for my birthday to see my little guy, Ben, in the Midwest (cute kid on bike, Diary part 7) That’ll be the best present ever! So, until I return, au revoir ... mes amies. And keep those personal ad responses coming ... couples with single friends are welcome too. But remember ... no threesomes.

Respond to susan@newyorksocialdiary.com.