Like how to avoid wasting time on connections that aren’t going to happen.
And to stop being high maintenance over my appearance to try to get guys.
His mother and my father worked together as physicists at Lawrence Livermore Laboratory. George was 11 with curly dark hair, brown eyes and a serious manner as he politely showed me his model train set. Since I’m an unemployed slacker with writer’s block, I'd answer them. I was having adventures and figuring out public transit.
In 1981, when I was a 17-year-old nerd, I needed a date for my senior prom. The guys writing to me were also online, so they'd often answer really quickly, until I was having multiple flirty conversations. Since I’d never really dated in my formative years, my dates often seemed surreal. And if I did, I would probably be too sleep-deprived to recognize him. I was “getting out there,” the generic advice foisted upon the bereaved by those who do not want to spend time with them.
Which is far better than being the widow in the bourbon-stained bathrobe buying the giant, economy-sized bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin plus 12 Butterfingers at Bevmo. We’ve also launched a weekly podcast, “We’ve Got Issues,” focusing on the issues, not Donald Trump’s tweets.