The Naked Man

Note: All names and professional organizations have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

The Naked Man. You know the type. The one that gets undressed, lies in your bed, waits for you to come out of the bathroom, and then jumps on you. No, not familiar? Well, perhaps I'm a little ahead of myself...

You're already familiar with many of my escapades of debauchery and decadence, as well as my dealings with all things love and lust. Remember Superman? Or the man who keeps me up at night? How about the dancer, Lizard, and of course, my Caribbean boyfriend? Well, let me introduce you to The Naked Man.

Several years ago, whilst dating around, I was invited to a professional baseball game with the president of the city Junior League. When you live in a city the size of mine, this is A.Big.Deal. I knew he was well-known; I knew he and I knew a lot of the same people, hence how we met; I even knew that he was politically-involved and motivated. The degree to which he was all of those things, however, became starkly apparent when we walked into a bar prior to the game to grab a few drinks and I was introduced to everyone in said bar. I felt like I was in a beauty pageant, smiling with vaseline on my lips. Whoa. Too much for this ambivert.

Fast forward to the game. Fun times. A lot of cheering. Nice date. That's really all I can remember of that portion of the evening.

Just so you are aware, because it's important to this particular story, I was not into said Naked Man. I have no qualms about jumping into promiscuous situations with men to whom I'm attracted, but otherwise, I'm not sparing my time or energy. But I don't mind a good conversation, enlightening discussion, or free drinks.

After the game, we headed to another bar, closer to where I live. Free drinks. Check. Good conversation. Check. Enlightening discussion. Meh, but two out of three ain't bad said Meatloaf. Little did I know that Mr. Naked Man would get drunk and be unable to drive himself home. So, I wound up driving his car to my house, where he had picked me up earlier in the evening, and told him to sleep it off on the couch.

I, being the woman that I am, made my way to the bathroom to take care of girl business (aka removing my face) and change my clothes. I made my way into the bedroom and climbed into my bed. Mistake #1. For there was a NAKED MAN under the sheets. I literally screamed, jumped out of bed, and turned on the light. Mistake #2. Said Naked Man had jumped up at the same time.

I'll fast forward through the next five minutes to save you the grief I endured. Let's suffice it to say I slept on the couch in my own house and never saw Naked Man again. Given his status in the city, however, his name comes across my way from time to time, and I can only imagine the vast contrast between how most others view him and how I have SEEN him.

My Memoir

Memoir. A collection of memories. I've been contemplating writing my memoir for years now, and it miraculously occurred to me that I've already been doing just that. I may not be compiling them into a novel, but I am writing them...in the form of this very blog. And perhaps that is for the best since it appears my memoir has already been written. Please see What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding. Other than names and locations, not much else would differ from Ms. Newman's own memoir. Oh, I may not be as funny either, but I certainly would try!

So, with that premise in mind, you have a number of wholly inappropriate entries forthcoming.

Solo Travel

I often get asked why I enjoy travelling alone. I admit that my first solo travel experience abroad was filled with angst and worry. Yet, I've continued to do it over and over. Why? I enjoy the ability to do what I want when I want without having to ensure it's also what my travel companion(s) desire to do. I can see and do at my own speed. I am only bound by my own itinerary. Yet, there is another reason much more to the heart of why I solo journey.

I have met amazing people in my travels, many of whom I now call friends, and none of the scenarios where I was introduced to said individuals would have even occurred had I been with even one other travel companion. To me, that's profound. You're forced out of your comfort zone, and what is more exhilarating than that?

But this brings me to travelling alone when no longer a single. Lizard is wholly supportive of my continued pursuits of adventure abroad, but I can only imagine longing for his companionship if I were to go at it alone now. Thoughts?

Plane Etiquette

A moral dilemma. A family is not seated together on the plane and asks me to switch. Should I move?

No. Absolutely not. I'm not giving up the window seat I paid for, in advance, for this time of serenity. I give to charity. I don't intentionally run over wildlife. I open doors for others. But in no universe am I giving up my window seat for the aisle.