The Onset of Dementia

One of the more curious symptoms of alzheimer's disease is a drastic change in the sufferer's aesthetic preferences. Tales abound of accomplished chefs acquiring a taste for fast food hamburgers and classical music vituosos exhibiting a sudden preference for Britney Spears. I'm not listening to Britney Spears yet, but I spent a good chunk of the weekend filling my iPod with bubble gum gems like Elton John's Mama Can't Buy You Love and Andy Gibb's I Just Wanna Be Your Everything. It's not cool, but I actually LIKE disco. Not in the ironical, post-modern sense but at face value. I'm advising my friends and co-workers to monitor my behavior for other signs of dementia.

I did discover the Cracow Klezmer Band. Highly recommended.

On Saturday I found myself without plans so I decided to head, solo, to the Double Door to catch a band. Between acts, an inebriated 30-something asked for my assistance with her wardrobe malfunction---a clasp had come undone on the back of her shirt (was it a corset?) and as I was fixing her her 40-something boyfriend showed up.

When a man sees his drunk girlfriend talking to a strange guy at a bar, he can do one of two things. If he's insecure or not highly intelligent, he can attempt to push and prod her away and otherwise show his displeasure with the interloper. Or, if he's more sophisticated, he can engage the guy in conversation, buy him a beer and subtly attempt to establish his position as the dominant male through a series of comical observations and back-handed compliments. All with a smile on his face.

Her boyfriend bought me an uncommonly strong drink ("...should be strong. I tip them enough at this place") and steered the conversation among several topics. When I interjected something, he said "...is this going to be a long story?" Then he chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Look at you, " he said in an affable tone of voice, "....you're here by yourself on a Saturday night. You're good-looking and smart, but you probably won't get laid tonight. You give off a nice-guy vibe. You need a bad-boy image, but that comes with age. You're probably 27?" "I think he's 32," offered the girlfriend. "Actually, I'm 38, " I said.

Normally I feel complimented when someone mis-estimates my age, but this guy was making me feel like Richie Cunningham. He had tricked me into QUALIFYING myself to him.

After a few more minutes of banter, he broke off with, "...we'll be moving to the front of the stage---the drummer is a friend of ours." "He should come with us," said the girlfriend. I felt his hand on the back of my neck. "Just fixing your tag---it was standing up."

I declined her offer and left soon after. I mentally wished him well with his girlfriend.

I headed to Nick's and spent the rest of the evening flirting with two girls in their early twenties, a blond musician and a brunette English graduate student. Eventually the blond and I started focusing on eachother and at 3 a.m. we exchanged myspace info and parted.

Too early to say if anything will come of this, but it was a pleasure to talk to two highly intelligent women. Contrary to the views of some, I really do want a girlfriend but I will not compromise on the issue of intelligence. There is nothing sexy about stupidity.