I think I’ve missed my calling. Being a writer is great, don’t get me wrong, but the big money is in being a phony “expert.” At least I’m hoping that’s where the big money is, since I seem to be headed in that direction, vocationally.
It all started a couple months ago, when I wrote my first column detailing my recent marital breakup with the Former Lovely Mrs. Taylor, and my subsequent adventures as a newly-single guy.
The first reader letters were consolatory; folks who wanted to share their regret over the split. These I deeply appreciated. It took a couple weeks for the requests for advice to start coming in.
Some readers wanted to know what online dating service I was using. Others inquired after the name of my divorce attorney and wondered if he was any good. Still others were curious as to what sort of girls I had found online and if any were “keepers.”
But in the past couple weeks, the letters have turned increasingly personal and – in at least one case – bizarre.
In recent weeks, readers have written asking how long it took me to get completely over the split. Answer: I’ll let you know when it happens.
One letter writer was curious as to what sort of woman a newly-singled guy is interested in. Answer: One that will say “yes” when I ask her out.
Just yesterday I received an email from a guy who wanted “Bernice’s” phone number. Bernice, you may recall from a couple weeks back, was one of my first “dates.” She was also an amalgam, made up of three unhappy dates I went on a while back, by which I mean she was “based on a true story.” In short: there is no Bernice. And buddy, why you would want to go out with her if there was is beyond me.
The point is I’ve been getting all kinds of requests for advice on love and the single life. I’m not sure why, since most of the people asking for it have been single a lot longer than me and should therefore know more about it.
But since they’re asking, the least I can do is answer to the best of my ability and pray nobody sues me for malpractice. I don’t want to be a real therapist, of course; that takes schooling, wisdom, dedication, and a bunch of other stuff I have in only the most limited of supplies. Then there’s that pesky degree, which I also don’t have.
But I think I could be a television therapist, or maybe radio; anything where people call in with their problems and some quack gives them bad advice about how to conduct their lives. I’ve been thinking hard about this, and I think I’d be at least as good at it as Doctor Ruth (who, I’ve heard, isn’t a real doctor, either). In fact, if I have to, I could probably hobble together a fairly convincing German accent.
I’d don a pair of reading glasses, dress in a big, friendly sweater and dispense wisdom as if I actually knew what I was talking about. My book, “Doctor Mike’s Guide to Sex” would be a best seller, because it has the word “sex” in it.
I would be rich, and since girls dig rich guys, I would soon have my own romantic problems solved. It’s a win-win situation. Well, except for the people who buy my book. They would have more problems than ever.
Sorry folks, no plan is perfect.
Missed a week? More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at
1 comment:
Hi there Mike. I just got brave and started my own blog. It's not as funny as Ter's but I do have my funny moments. You can check it out, should you so desire, at Munch7735.blogspot.com. The "Munch" is a little known, now soon to become more known,nickname given me many moons ago when I worked at the old Roaring 20's Restaurant for a brief time. It's a LONG story. I don't know if Ter will start up a new blog, but you can encourage him. He is the real comedian of the two of us.
Post a Comment