On the Road Again

After three years without a car, I finally bought another car. Actually, I bought two. First, I bought a VW Golf. I had it fifteen days, then I crashed it. It was a write off. I had to wait a month for the insurance check. Once the insurance paid off, I started looking for another car. With the Golf, I got lucky. I found it the first day I started looking with money in my pocket. The second car took me over a month to find. I finally settled on a Peugeot, which cost half as much as my Golf. I never dreamed I would ever buy a French car. In any case, the Peugeot has survived and gets good mileage. It's great being off public transport and I get to and from work in half the time.




A woman I wanted to date turned me down, a couple of years ago, because I didn't have a car. More recently, last year, another woman I was briefly dating complained that she didn't want to go on dates with me riding on the bus. This was despite the fact that she didn't own a car and road the bus every day, herself. She told me, "you need to buy a car." I let her know that I would buy a car when I was ready, not when she snapped her fingers. Both these women lost out on a relationship with me, because they couldn't be patient. I wonder how many others made the same mistake?



When I was younger, I always wanted flashy sports cars. Several times in my life, I loaded myself with expensive car payments to support this desire. This time, after three years with no car, I decided that any car is better than no car. I paid for my modest car cash. No loan payments to make, it has cheap insurance, and good fuel economy. Maybe I have finally learned a lesson.

New Day Job

I am so happy with my new "day" job. No more working at the restaurant, for me. Okay, I miss the free food, but I have doubled my income. I'm now saving money to send my mother and I have money in my pocket. For those of you who don't already know and are curious as to what I am doing, I am driving a bus, in London. A big, red double-decker, London bus. Hey! it's fun.
Of course, I can't help thinking about the negative attitudes that used to be directed my way, by a number of women, at the paltriness of my old salary. One old girlfriend referred to me as someone "with no prospects." Now I earn more than her, ha, ha, ha. Another female friend, desperate to get married and/or have a baby, turned her nose up at me, because I didn't earn enough to, in her words, support her, while she took time off from work, to give birth. Although she wanted to wait five years, before getting pregnant. I used to ask her, "why do you assume I will be making the same in five years time?" Then, there was the woman I was seeing, last year, who stopped all contact with me, because I said I would marry someone rich, for money. Why was she bothered? She's not rich. Anyway, this "indecent proposal" conversation was only academic. There was another woman, who turned her nose up at dating me, in part, because I don't own a car. Well, I am planning on buying a car again, next year.
Sod all of them! I'm on my way back up. While the world has a financial melt-down, my financial situation is vastly improving. It's going to be a happy new year, indeed.

Sexy Science

Even though the subjects of scientific research into what humans find attractive in a mate claim that they look for partners similar to themselves, the research doesn't back that up. Scientists are saying that a study of speed dating results shows that men are attracted to beautiful women. Women, on the other hand, are attracted to blokes with money. Go figure! It's interesting that what people do seems to differ from what they say. This supports a contention I have made for years, that if you want to understand people, watch what they do, rather than going by what they say. Now that these astounding results have been published in the "Proceedings of the National Academy of Science," I guess I shall continue my pursuit of wealth. I thought women liked men who make them laugh? I suppose the best strategy is to become a rich comedian.

I Wish Someone Had Told Me

This past Saturday, I went into London to film an interview for a TV show. I can't tell you the name of the show yet, because of the confidentiality agreements that were part of my release. It should air sometime in December, so I'll let you know when I know, exactly. I was able to travel in style, by train, because the production company paid for my transportation. No bus for me, for a change. Also uncharacteristically, I arrived quite early. I wandered around the block, looking for a pub to kill some time, but there were none in the area. There was an Indian restaurant, closed for refurbishment, though. Turning around, I just decided to go in early. It turned out to be a good thing I did.
When I entered the building, there were already several people waiting. If I had waited to arrive on time, I wouldn't have gotten a seat. The production crew were running late with an earlier group they were filming. After waiting a while, they informed us that our group wouldn't start filming until after lunch. It was suggested that we could go out and come back later, if we wanted to. What, and lose my seat? No way! Besides, we were fed and watered with delicious, free food and drink. Packages of crisps (potato chips) and fizzy drinks were on offer, as well as coffee and tea. I enjoyed a can of Sprite and a package of crisps.
The group of waiting people was almost evenly split between males and females. Every woman there, except one, was good looking. The majority were actresses and models. While the refreshments may not have exactly comprised a feast, there was certainly a feast for the eyes. Sitting around me were a Brazilian psychologist, a woman from Switzerland, and a Malaysian model. Across the room were two beautiful dark skinned women. As seats ran out, there was a gal with a very full head of gingerish hair, quite styled. Later, I spotted a blond, glamour model type, standing near the door. She seemed to be adjusting her breasts, or how they sat in the dress out of which they were practically spilling.
Malay started making eye contact and smiling at me. I wondered if I had some funny bit of fluff in my hair, or something. Eventually, she made some comment or other. I took the opportunity to talk with her. Soon, Swiss Miss and Brazil Psycho gal had joined in. Sadly, a British, bald actor did too and he talked and talked, and talked some more. He talked so much, it was minimizing the opportunity for me to get a word in. I may have a great personality, but I need talk time to display that. Overhearing Malay mentioning a daughter, I wrote her off as probably attached. Then filming restarted. Malay and Brazil Psych rushed towards the entrance of the studio, hoping to get in early. Bald actor dude went with them. I considered joining them, but it would mean standing and there was no guarantee how soon we would be filmed. Although a bunch of people started lining up behind them, I surmised that the producer had her own idea about what order she wanted to interview people, so standing in line wouldn't make much of a difference. I elected to remain in my seat.
Swiss Miss stayed sitting, next to me. This wasn't the good result it may sound like, at first. She was one of the plainest there, in the looks department. She had short hair and hard features which bordered on the butchy lesbianic. I talked with her some more, but noticed she wore a ring on her left hand. Probably taken, I figured. As seats became empty, I shuffled towards the front. Relocating to a chair right across from the two dark skinned girls, I began listening to their conversation. Although they weren't there together, they had fallen into conversation, as often happens when waiting for stuff like this. People willing to be on TV tend to be a bit more out-going and friendly. The prettiest of the two, who was also the shorter and the darker, was speaking quietly enough that I was having a hard time hearing everything. Short and Dark mentioned something about experiencing racism when she was on holiday in Wales, with her "white" boyfriend. My attention wandered from her toward Taller and Lighter. Still quite brown, Taller and Lighter had on a skin tight, mustard colored, mini dress. This dress showed off every curve, including her ample, bootiliscious posterior. Her height was accentuated by a pair of black, stiletto heeled, lace up boots. Heavily made up, she gave off the impression, visually, that she was trying too hard. One of the staff came by with more treats. I snagged a Mars bar, while she tucked into a chocolate muffin. She bemoaned the effect her sweet tooth has on her figure, vowing to hit the gym to try to undo it. I told her not to worry about it and just enjoy the chocolate, while following my own advice. That Mars bar sure tasted good.
The numbers of us waiting gradually diminished, as, one after another, people filmed their interviews. Even though she'd moved to the front of the line, Malay was still there. As I had suspected, all that standing hadn't made any difference. As they were running behind, the production staff said they didn't have time to finish everyone that day. They offered volunteers a chance to film a different segment, instead. I was willing, but then it was announced that they preferred younger people for that. At 26, Taller and Lighter took the opportunity. She removed her boots and put on comfortable, flat flip-flops. Somehow, this spoiled her whole look. She flip-flopped out the door. Some interesting information came to light at this time. The production assistant informed us that everyone there, that day, had been single. Couples were being filmed another day. What? Now they tell me! I had spent the day surrounded by loads of hot, single women, without knowing they were available.
Soon I was in the "green room," with a couple of the other men left and Malay. She was the last female there. She'd made eye contact with me earlier in the day, so I tried to engage her in conversation. After I enquired about her daughter, she showed me a picture of the girl. Cute kid. The hours of waiting seemed to have taken their toll. There just didn't seem to be any magic between us, anymore. Malay seemed only focusing on getting out of there and home to her daughter. Then she was gone. When my turn finally came, I went on and did my interview. The interviewer was sitting off camera, while I sat on a couch shaped like a pair of red lips. The short series of questions finished, the director yelled cut. He smiled broadly and said my segment had gone really well. Too bad none of the single women had been there to hear it. I walked out the door and into a warm London, with the sun about to set. I had a free pass to use any public transport within Zones 1 and 2. The night was young and I had nothing to do. Pulling out my mobile, I dialed Mucky Sarah's number. Perhaps she'd be up for doing something. Walking along towards Marylebone station, chatting on my mobile phone, I managed to feel good. There are fish in them waters.

Nando Has a Second Date

After my racist, Italian housemate, Nando's blind date, on Tuesday, I asked him what the woman was like. He showed me a picture of her. I think she looks nice and very sweet. He and I talked about her and I got the impression he wasn't thrilled with her. He doesn't think she's good looking enough. Although they had agreed to a second date, I'm not holding out a lot of hope that they will last as a couple. I feel sorry for her, as Nando is a very closed person and somewhat of an emotional desert.
Their second date was Saturday evening. Nando didn't get home until almost midnight. I was still up when he came in, so I asked him how it went. He said she looked much better, this time. Okay, that's a positive step. They went out to dinner and to a pub. During dinner, she was telling Nando about the other men she has been introduced to, by the dating agency. Apparently, one of them was "black." She said something like, "I'm not a racist, but I don't know why they are introducing me to a black man. I stated in my profile that I am looking for white." A smiling Nando told her it's alright to be racist. Is it just me, or does it sound like he's not exactly going to bring out the best in this woman?

Nando's Blind Date

Two nights ago, Nando, my racist, Italian housemate, asked me how easy is it to drive to Guildford? "Pretty easy, if you have a car," I replied. If you ask me a question, you have a 90 percent chance of getting a quip, joke, pun, or sarcastic answer. Nando elaborated, saying that he needed to go somewhere near Guildford, but not exactly in Guildford. He then asked if I knew where some place was. With his accent, it sounded like he said, "Cran Lake." It doesn't ring any bells, but I offer to look it up on the internet for him.
Curious, I asked him why he needed to go there. Nando then tells me he has a date and is supposed to meet the woman there. Recently, Nando had been seeing this married woman who works at the golf complex where he's a chef. I asked him if it was that same, married woman he's been seeing. He surprised me by shaking his head, "no." "So, who's this woman you're meeting?" I asked. His reply shocked me. Nando explained that he has registered with a matchmaking agency and they have introduced him to this woman.
This seems totally unlike Nando. I've known Nando for over four years, now. I have known him to date before, but for the past two years, he's seemed to be in a bit of a slump. He usually can't be bothered to go out, or even to move from the sofa he lays on, watching TV each night. The fling with the married woman is the only action he's had, lately. As he met her at work, he didn't have to go out of his way and to hear him tell it, she practically threw herself at him, so not much effort was required. Nando is so cynical, I would have thought he'd say something like, "dating agencies are for loser's," or something like that, if someone suggested he use one. He's been registered with the agency for a month and this is his first date. A little further enquiry revealed that he's never met this woman before. It's a blind date. He's seen a picture of her, but she hasn't seen a picture of him. Personally, I am surprised she's willing to meet him, sight unseen. How desperate can this bird be?
As I was on my way upstairs, I asked Nando the name of the place he's going to, again. This time, he spells it and I realize that he's been saying, "Cranleigh" all along. That does sound familiar and I fully intended to look up directions for him, on the internet. Nando doesn't have a computer of his own. Once I got upstairs, I got totally involved in blogging for you lot and forgot about the directions.

Yesterday, when I arrived home from my commercial shoot, I realized that I had gone to bed with getting Nando the directions to Cranleigh. I knew his date was supposed to be yesterday, but I presumed it was at night. I appologized to Nando and offered to get him the directions immediately. I had come home from the shoot fairly early, so I figured Nando hadn't gone yet, as he was home and casually dressed. "I've already been," he informed me. After I apologized again, for not remembering to get him the directions, he tells me it was no problem. His date had sent him the directions, by text.
Immediately, I wanted to know how things went. Nando told me he was off work yesterday, so they met during the day. He's not very talkative at the best of times, so I keep asking questions as he gives me brief answers. "What's she like?" I asked.
"She's okay," Nando replies, focusing on watching TV.
"Is she good looking?"
"She's okay," he said, again.
Did you two agree to see each other again?"
"Yeah," Nando says, matter-of-factly. I was dying for more detail, but grew tired if the effort it was taking to get tiny bits of information. Nando did tell me that he's getting older and he thinks it's time he got involved with someone of the opposite sex. I am fascinated about the kind of woman who'd be satisfied with Nando's minimalist attitude toward relationships. He comes across as very flat, emotionally, and not as passionate about women as I am. I wonder if I will get to meet this mystery woman, one day?

Totally Jodie Marsh: Episode 3

On last night's episode of "Totally Jodie Marsh: Who'll Take Her Up the Aisle?" Jodie spends time with Matt, a male model who attended her final audition, in Sheffield. He's been in contact with Jodie before and some people suggest he's a ringer. Matt previously dated Katie Price (AKA Jordan). He's four years younger than Jodie and seems just like the type of guy she's previously dated (in other words, the same old thing in a different package). I told friends that I didn't think Matt and her would last the distance. Even I didn't expect things to go wrong so quickly. Fairly early in this third episode, we see them bickering. Matt keeps pressuring her to end her search early and choose him. A teary-eyed Jodie sticks to her guns, however, and it looks like their relationship is coming to an end. Well done, Jodie! Watch the next episode, Sunday, on MTV1 at 10PM. This "warts and all" view of Jodie's husband search is very entertaining viewing. Will she ever twig that she should be with me? Stay tuned and find out.

The Jodie Marsh Show

Last night, I watched the first two episodes of "Totally Jodie Marsh: Who'll Take Her Up the Aisle?" as it was repeated. Obviously, I missed them on Sunday night, as I was stuck in London, at the hospital. I was disappointed that they didn't show the segment I filmed, but maybe I shouldn't be. They showed three guys from the Bournemouth auditions I attended, but only briefly. The way the show was edited, the impression was given that no one who auditioned was very good. Maybe they left me out because I was better than most and wouldn't have fit the theme. I will continue watching the series, with interest. It airs Sunday nights at 10PM, on MTV1.
What struck me most watching the show was how much Jodie's brother, Jordan, and I agree on things. We both wear glasses and ride motorcycles. His analysis of Jodie's dating behavior almost exactly matches mine. He's known her his whole life, so I think that's a great testament to my analytical skills that I was able to draw the same conclusions, simply from reading her biography. The problem is that Jodie keeps going for the same type of guy...mostly young and good looking, but ends up not being satisfied. I am even more convinced than ever that I am the best man for her. She needs to realize that if she wants to find a different result, she needs to look in a different direction to what she usually looks at. Jodie, if you always do what you've always done, you always get what you always got. Call me.

Kate No Date

This weekend, the world was shocked to learn that Prince William and Kate Middleton have broken up. So many people were speculating that the Prince and Kate would end up getting married. Could that speculation have actually led to the breakup? Kate's mother stated her career as an airline flight attendant, then became a self-made millionaire. One rumor circulating is that Prince William's blue blood friends were in the habit of quipping, just after Kate would leave a room, "doors to manual," in mocking reference to something flight attendants say sometimes.
They had been dating over four years and some scientists say that the average duration of a human, romantic relationship is four years. They met during university. Maybe they are just naturally going their separate ways. William may not be ready to think seriously of marrying. Neither may Kate. I didn't get married till I was 38. I certainly wouldn't have been ready when I was 24. But the most shocking revelation in all of this? Kate lives in the same county as I do. I wonder why I've never seen her and William, when I've been at Tesco?

There's No Fool Like An April Fool (Meeting the Black Queen)

Today is the tenth anniversary of my initial "meeting" with the woman who would go on to become the Black Queen. I say "meeting," but it wasn't face to face. it was a virtual meeting, in a chat room. As it was just over three months after the end of my relationship with Paula, I was looking to meet someone new. When she first spoke with me, I thought she was a guy, so I was a bit standoffish. Once I realized she was female, my usual charm offensive took over. Learning that she was half English and half Chinese intensified my interest. I love British accents and I have always been partial to oriental females. We exchanged photos and I found her attractive in her picture.
Everything wasn't clear sailing. I learned that she was separated from her husband and had two young children. Not letting myself be deterred, I called her on the phone. We continued talking over the internet and by telephone, every day, over the next two weeks. By then, I was certain I wanted to meet this enticing woman. I told her that I was prepared to fly to Britain and meet face to face. She agreed and I purchased a ticket to fly to London, before the end of the month. We planned on seeing each other over a weekend, then I would drive to Wales and visit the Great Michelle's brother for four days. I would return to the London area the following Thursday and spend a four day weekend with her, before flying back to New York. The visit to Wales was necessitated by the fact that my prospective girlfriend was still living with he husband she was separated from. She didn't want him to know about me, yet.
I flew to London's Gatwick airport with high hopes. When I entered the arrivals hall, I scanned the crowd for my internet girlfriend. As I first spotted her and we exchanged initial eye contact, I could tell by the expression on her face that she was disappointed. It seemed obvious that I didn't look as good as she had been expecting. My heart sank. At least I would get to see Michelle's brother, so I figured the trip wouldn't be a complete waste of time. My reaction was the opposite. She looked much better than I was expecting. The photo she had sent me hadn't done her justice. As we walked to the multi-story car park at Gatwick's South Terminal, she was very quiet. For safety, she had a friend drive her to Gatwick, so she wasn't alone. Her friend, another woman, drove away from the airport with me and my intended sitting together in the back seat. A hotel room had been reserved for me in a town called Langley, not far from where my intended's parents lived. During the drive there, I reached out to her and we kissed for the first time. It was a good move, as once I kissed her, she melted into my arms, all her disappointment in my looks forgotten.
At the hotel, I checked into my room. My blind date had arranged for some food to be waiting for me, when I arrived, as the hotel restaurant was closed, due to the late hour. She also had arranged for a bottle of champagne to be waiting in my room. We shared the champagne, then continued intimately kissing. I was impressed with how competently this half-oriental beauty had arranged everything. She stayed with me until the early hours of the morning, then drove home, promising to return later, during the day.
We spent as much time as possible together, during that first weekend. Then it was time for me to drive to Wales in a rented car. It was good to see Michelle's brother again, but my thoughts were occupied with my internet sweetheart. I told him about the girl who was stealing my heart. Soon it was time to head back to the London area. I drove back east, on the M4 motorway, as fast as I could. She had arranged for us to spend the weekend together at the Hilton hotel in Bracknell, Berkshire, just outside London. Ironically, I now live less than a mile from this hotel. Again, it was close to her parents' home, yet it was a much nicer hotel than I had stayed in at Langley. I checked in first, then she joined me, later. The next day, Friday of the first weekend in May, we met her parents for dinner at a local restaurant. It was her mother and her step-father, as her mother was on her second marriage. They seemed friendly enough. By then, I was thinking of my internet beauty as my girlfriend. She had planned for us to attend the theatre in Windsor, across the street from the Queen's castle, on Saturday. She dressed very classy, in black and I enjoyed going to a play with her.
Soon it was Monday morning and time for me to head home. During my visit, after the first time we made love, she had cried tears of happiness. She told me it was the first time in her life that she had been orgasmic with a man. I felt honored. That Monday, we sat in the car and she cried tears of sadness that I was leaving. We pledged to keep seeing each other and I flew home to New York a happy man. I was in love once again.

Opal Dates a Famous Actor

Over the course of this past summer, I got to appear on Opal Bonfante's radio show, "London Calling," almost every day. Opal sent me an autographed photo of herself and unlike some female radio DJs, who are not very good looking, she is very attractive. The old adage, "a face for radio" definitely doesn't apply to her. Opal liked to describe herself as "hot and funny" and I agree with her. There seemed to be a certain humorous chemistry between us that made for good radio. She described my voice as, "overtly sexual." Opal started reading my blog and soon became my most dedicated reader.
As at the time, both she and I were single, I suppose it was inevitable that I would begin to fancy her. It's very difficult to date someone in show business if you aren't also in the business. Even if you are, it's very difficult for men to date up the scale. Women can pull it off if they are good looking, but for men, it's tough. Opal had a radio show, albeit on a minor station, while I was just doing a bit of acting, here and there. Radio personalities are notoriously hard to date, as they have so many propositions from listeners, they tend to put up a wall between themselves and members of the audience. To make my prospects even more difficult, Opal is only 24, while I am 47. She often stated, on air, that she wanted to marry this or that ageing rock star, usually some guy in his sixties, but that could have been just joking about, for the show. Of course there are women who will date guys twenty years their senior, but the problem is finding them. In many cases, it helps if the guy is rich, or famous, or both. I was neither...yet. The only thing I could do was display my best charms to Opal, my voice and my humor.
Off air, I confided in Opal that I had a desire to get a radio show of my own. She encouraged that aspiration. On one occasion, she even said, "we must find a way to get you on radio." Given this, I was pretty disappointed when Opal announced that she was having a young female listener, Louise, do a month of work experience on her show. Louise has also stated that she would like to be a radio presenter. Louise's great disadvantage is that she doesn't enunciate clearly. She has a slurred speaking style that isn't quite a lisp, but sounds terrible on air. To me, unless she gets rid of it, she has almost no chance of an on air career in radio. Opal having this girl work on the show seemed like a double slap in the face. Given the girl's prospects, it seems like a waste of an opportunity. Also, I wondered why Opal had never considered doing the same thing for me. Any reluctance Opal might have had to place herself in close proximity to a listener was completely ignored in this case. She even had Louise living in the same house as her, for the month.
I kept my disappointment to myself and never said anything to Opal about it. One day, Opal told me she was going to be doing a TV project. She was still going to be on the radio, but she was going to be presenting on TV on the weekends. She started traveling to Bristol for weekends, to rehearse for the TV show. I had learned that Opal had never seen any of the "Star Wars" films. In September, Sky Movies started showing all the "Star Wars" films in the order that they were originally released, one each weekend, for six weeks straight. I asked Opal how she traveled to Bristol for her rehearsals. She told me she took the train. On the Saturday that Sky was starting with the first "Star Wars" film, Opal confirmed that she would be taking the train from Bristol back to London, in the afternoon. As the train line from Bristol passes through Reading, near where I live, I asked Opal if she would like to come over and watch the first "Star Wars" film with me. I sweetened the deal by offering to cook her dinner, making allowances for her vegetarianism, of course. She declined stating that she was in a hurry to get back to London so she could go out, "kissing boys." I was disappointed, of course, but spent the evening watching "Star Wars," alone, drowning my sorrows in a bag of microwave popcorn.
The radio station where Opal worked hired a new manager. He imposed changes on Opal's show, forbidding her form taking callers on air. This was a big blow for me, as I was enjoying being a nightly regular on her show. I kept in touch with Opal anyway, demonstrating that I wasn't only interested in her because she put me on air. I felt like we had a friendship, at least, and it was good to have a show business friend. I was able to ask her advice on auditions and such, and Opal's simply a lot of fun to talk with. One evening, in the autumn, while listening to her on the radio, I heard her say that she'd like to marry someone who doesn't watch any sports on TV. I sent her a cheeky email saying that I don't watch sports on TV. She emailed me back, saying that she wasn't single anymore. Sure, I was disappointed, but I had long expected that, one day, Opal would start dating some guy, younger than me, higher up the entertainment ladder. Some guy in a band, or an actor, or something, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Opal is quite a catch and I was surprised at how long she had remained single in the first place. I stopped calling her as much and relied more on email, which is free. I might as well save on my phone bill.
I started referring to Opal as "unsingle person," in my emails to her, in a bit of light teasing. Time passed and one evening, Opal ended up telling me her boyfriend was an old actor named "Burt." I responded by guessing, "Burt Lancaster" and "Burt Reynolds," not serious. Opal shocked me by saying his name was Burt Kwok. At first I thought it was just Opal joking around. "Is this a wind up?" I asked. She assured me she wasn't kidding. "Burt Kwok's famous," I said in amazement. Opal said she was surprised I'd ever heard of him. That must be because Opal is so young. She wasn't around in Burt's heyday. I told her Burt had played Cato in "The Pink Panther" films, had been in a James Bond film, and had been a regular on "The Harry Hill Show," on TV. She was surprised that I knew so much about him. She asked me if I was looking this all up on Google. I assured her I hadn't been, but that was a good idea. I did a Google search on Burt and looked at his IMDb page. He'd done a load of films and TV shows. He was born in Manchester, England, but raised in Shanghai. That's when it hit me. I checked his date of birth...July 18, 1930. After some quick mental arithmetic...holy cow! He's 76 years old!
"Opal, he's 76!" I emailed, in amazement. She confirmed that was true. I couldn't resist teasing her about this. "Ask him if he's got a grand-daughter for me," I emailed back. I felt a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, I was annoyed. Burt Kwok is more years older than me than I am older than Opal. While I don't have anything against big age differences between people who are dating, the fact that I had fancied Opal myself made this grate on my sensibilities a bit. "How could she prefer such an old guy over me?" I wondered to myself. Opal had acted a bit funny towards me, once, after I had written that I was from a "mixed race" background. I thought that had put her off me, but here she was dating a Chinese guy. On the other hand, it was kind of cool. I admired Burt's work as an actor and fair play to the guy if he can pull a hot 24-year-old. I emailed her again, writing, "ask him if he can fix me up with any Chinese women." She responded by saying that was the funniest request anyone had ever made of her.
Opal asked me if I was going to write about her dating Burt Kwok in my blog. I told her I would consider it. Immediately, I realized I had a potential tiger by the tail. My first thought was that it would make a fabulous scoop for my blog. Then, it occurred to me that I could sell the story to one of the tabloid newspapers. Before I would make any decisions, I talked to Opal again. I warned her that if I wrote about this in my blog, someone in the mainstream media might pick up on it. It could end up in the tabloids. I asked her if she had considered the potential publicity and would she be bothered about that? She said she doubted anyone would take any notice. We debated it back and forth. Opal said the only way to find out was for me to write about it and see if anyone in the media noticed. Still, I hesitated. Should I sell the story to a tabloid, or publish it for free, on my blog? Would Opal be bothered if I sold it to a tabloid? She didn't seem bothered at the risk that it might get picked up by the media, but would she feel differently if she found out I had deliberately sold it to them? If I expressly asked her, she might decide to sell it herself and cut me out. I needed the money worse than she did. In the back of my mind was another concern. Suppose she's just winding me up? If I was going to a tabloid, I needed to be sure the story was true. How could I do that?
I decided to ask Opal to meet me, socially, with Burt. This way, I could verify for myself if the story was true, or just a load of bullshit. In addition to fact checking the story, it would be cool to meet Burt Kwok. The first time I emailed Opal, suggesting we all go out sometime, she ignored it. I brought the subject up again, but she declined. I tried to talk her around. If I was dating someone famous, I'd share that with Opal. I would invite her to meet the person and even offer to do an exclusive interview on Opal's show. I thought we were like, friends? Don't friends help each other out? I told Opal that as my evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, was half Chinese, Burt and I were practically related. In the end, I couldn't seem to get anywhere with Opal about meeting Burt. This was adding insult to injury. It's bad enough losing out on a girl to a 76 year old man, but then to be cut out of even meeting him, socially and developing a show business friendship just made me feel worse.
I ended up sitting on the story for almost two months. At one point, Opal asked me when I was going to write the blog article about her and Burt, but I wasn't sure then. I told her I was still verifying some things. I felt uncomfortable about selling the story to the tabloids without Opal's express knowledge, as I considered her a friend. There is still some chance that it's a wind up. Given that she'd already said I could publish it in my blog, I decided to put it here, where I at least could enjoy the exclusive of being first to break the story. Some more time passed until I could get around to writing it. Perhaps you have noticed that I have been tending to do short articles, lately. In any case, I haven't been able to verify the facts, other than as I have related to you, here. Make of it what you will, all I have is what Opal's told me.