Posted September 3rd, 2003 by Michelle

A man I somewhat respect said this to me today: “Leap, and the net will appear.” Now that just may be new agey twaddle, but it also might be comforting advice. Remember that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? Where Indy has to take a leap of faith to get to the Holy Grail? He lifted his foot to step into the abyss and my heart stopped beating. When he put his foot down, and found a bridge that was there all along but perfectly camouflaged, I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that he had so much faith, and then I couldn’t believe that the bridge was there the whole time. It was just too much to take in.

I have a net of sorts, this job at the East Village bar, but it is net bound with what looks like really frayed, weak thread, and I wonder how much weight it will hold. My first invisible net showed up at work today when a good friend gave me the number to a catering company. My friend has worked with them many times, said they are a family operation and wonderful, and that I could work as much or as little as I’d like. God knows I’ve catered before. My uncle had a catering company and every younger Williams child cut their teeth in the hospitality world right there in Covina, California.

On a whole nother note, I’m supposed to go on a date this weekend with that guy I met walking home from the blackout. I can already smell the doom. We talked on the phone at length tonight, and he seems like a really nice, slightly bizarre, very intelligent and caring human being. But… and even my brothers can’t fault me for this “but”… he’s not funny. He’s just not funny. It’s what it comes down to, in the end. My brothers will claim, and think it’s simply hilarious, that the only men I find attractive are a) alcoholics and b) covered in tattoos and c) abusive and small minded and d) do something really dangerous on a daily basis like ride a motorcycle or choose not to eat so he can get drunk more easily.

That’s just a really hysterically funny joke about me, right? The fact is, I have dated men with some of these qualities, and one had most of them, but there is a reason I’ve been single for almost three years. I’m not going to choose like that again. Men like that, men who are childish and users and abusers and “dangerous” and foolish are a dime a dozen and no longer exciting to me. I want a man who is none of those things, who is kind and cool and smart and thinks I’m the best thing since spice racks. But I also want him to be funny. Being funny is not making random jokes that, while possibly amusing, berate or put down random persons or person. Being funny means being engaging and observant and sincere and self-depricating and gently acknowledging the silly parts about the people around you. Or not so gently, but with no real ill will. Being funny goes so much deeper than jokes. I’ve been around funny my whole life, inside my family, and it is something I won’t give up. I can’t. I want someone who is sweet and cute and funny and brilliant.

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed.