For five bucks, you too can listen to me talk about nothing important

It’s happened again; they’ve asked me to speak in public. Last time it was to a bunch of grade school kids, and even that scared me to death. This time it’s to a singles group. Grownups.

Apparently, the collection of columns I've come to think of as the “Break-up Essays” caught the eye of Marie, a local singles group leader. I wrote those essays several months ago, while dealing with my sudden, unanticipated bachelorhood.

Some are sad, some funny; in some the anger and hurt I was feeling at the time is barely veiled beneath a thin veneer of humor. At least I hope the hurt and anger is veiled; that was my intent.

These days—thanks to time, crazy good luck and an amazing, wonderful woman named Anne—life is again good. It has been for a while. And it’s looking to get a whole lot better.

At any rate, Marie sent me an email last week asking that I share my experiences with her organization’s membership.

She offered me money.

I hate public speaking, but I really like money, or rather the things money can buy, like next month’s allotment of Ramen noodles. So I have—tentatively at least—agreed to address the singles group.

Problem is, I have no idea what I’m going to say. The elementary kids were easy; they wanted to know where I grew up, who my favorite writers are, and whether I had any kids of my own. I’m guessing the singles group is expecting something a bit more enlightening.

According to the group’s Website, most of the previous speakers (they host one every Monday) are experts on one thing or another. Psychologists, sociologists, guys who have written self-help books on dealing with divorce…then there’s me, a humor columnist who don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout nuthin’. I couldn’t feel more confident.

Yeah, I could.

I have to speak for 45 minutes, followed by a Q&A. I’m guessing the Q&A will be easy because everyone will be sound asleep by then. If I’m lucky. If I’m not, the singles group members will be outside keying my car, angry about having forked over five bucks to listen to a doofus who don’t know—as I mentioned earlier—nuthin’ ‘bout nuthin’.

I know if I paid good money to listen to me, I’d be out there keying my car right along with ‘em.

I mean, five bucks man! You can see a movie for that—if you go to a matinee at a theater that shows flicks from years ago. You could see When Harry Met Sally, and that offers more wisdom about relationships than I’ll ever be able to provide.

But it’s not just the money; even if these folks were getting in for free, I’d feel I was cheating them somehow. I am, after all, an expert on absolutely nothing, unless you count my rather extensive knowledge of beer and burritos. I could speak on that, but I’m not sure that’s exactly what they’re paying me for. More importantly, I’m not sure if they’re paying me before or after I speak. (I’m hoping for before, otherwise I may be forced to shoplift next month’s supply of Ramen noodles.)

So what will I talk about? I have a few ideas, none of them good. I’m hoping something will come to me between now and the date of my speaking engagement.

If not, I’ll just bring along my DVD of When Harry Met Sally and we can all watch that together.

Missed a week? More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.