2005-09-05 - 1:25 a.m.

There are two kinds of guys you NEVER want to date: One is the "lethargic lothario"�that low-energy dude who hasn�t had a fresh idea since, �Hey, let�s go to Woodstock.� He can never think of anything to do.

�I don�t know�what do YOU want to do? I don�t care�whatever.�

The other is the "Harvey WHINE-stein"�the guy who complains about EVERYTHING, including, but not limited to:

--his ex-wife
--his rotten kids
--his job
--his hair loss
--his allergies
--his bad back
--his entire gastro-intestinal tract

It's funny how the one thing guys never whine about�and they SHOULD�is the fact that they can�t get it up..!! THAT they ignore. I guess that�s really more what I whine about. They never seem to notice that that small, soft, "sleeping sparrow" between their legs is a real problem. Don�t they know that women want PYTHONS�not earthworms..!! Dudes�it�s called VIAGRA�it�s legal�get some..!!

Last week a guy from Match.com�let�s call him SM�e-mailed me to say �I really don�t like Match.com�I can never find anyone on this site�but I liked your picture and your profile and you have a great smile�so write me back RIGHT AWAY because I�m canceling my Match.com membership in three days..!!

Well�what to do? That was a pretty negative note except for the part about my smile, which is, in fact, great (thank you!). His profile was totally thin because, obviously, he was too low-energy to take the time to make it interesting. But he was 55, 6�5� (I like �em tall!!), and geographically feasible (he lives in Soho). In fact, he describes himself as �a Soho bon vivant.�

He gave me his phone number, so, ever the romantic optimist (yeah, right!), I called.

Within TWO MINUTES, I knew he was a total �Harvey.�

He complained about his work, which has something to do with computers. He used to do this�but he got screwed outta that�so now he does this or that�or whatever. WHO CARES? I hate it when a guy says, �Hey, it�s a living.� Even if most of us think that most of the time�you don�t say it in a first conversation. It�s so negative�and so totally boring and blue-collar and ignorant!

He continued his rant against Match.com�

�I never meet anybody NORMAL on this site. I only sign up when they�re offering a special �free trial� week. (So, he�s CHEAP, too�an extremely unattractive attribute in a guy!)

I asked him if he was ever married, and he said �Once�a long time ago. I should never have married her in the first place.� (So, why did you, numb nuts?) Now I�m totally tuning out on this guy. But he continued�

�I was in a �pretty serious six-month relationship� last year�but then it was Hanukkah and her birthday�and I just couldn�t deal with it.�

(With WHAT? What the hell did that mean??)

I started formulating ways to end this conversation, while simultaneously preparing client invoices on Quick Books.

SM: �Have you been to (fill in the stupid, trendy club of your choice)?

ME: �No�I hate those places. I don't understand them. They�re always so noisy�you can�t talk. What's the point?�

SM: �I like to go early�before they start charging �bottle fees.��

ME: �Uh huh.� (Of course you do, you cheap bastard.)

SM: �Have you been to the Burger Bar?�

ME: �Never heard of it�but I�m a vegetarian.�

SM: �I don�t really drink much. My doctor told me to stop drinking for six months because I have some liver damage from too much alcohol�and MOTRIN.�

(Hang in there...it gets worse.)

SM: �Well, maybe we can have a nightcap over the weekend�say 9-ish?�

(First of all, NO ONE has a nightcap at 9 p.m�!!! Having a nightcap usually means having "one more drink" after a pleasant evening of dinner or a movie, a play, a concert, etc�because you don't want the night to end...and it usually happens well after 11 p.m. Suggesting a nightcap at "9 o'clock" implies that you�re too cheap to suggest cocktails at 6�like a normal person�because that might involve more than one beverage�and because you�re WAY TOO CHEAP to suggest dinner.)

Anyway, I told SM that "I go out to Quogue every weekend to relax, ride my bike and sit in my garden and read."

SM: �I used to have a share in the Hamptons, but the traffic was terrible, I didn�t like my housemates, the bars were crowded, the beaches were a zoo�blah, blah, blah��

My head�and my spirit�was SO hurting from this guy. SM was starting to feel more like �S&M� for me�pure torture and disgust. I was rolling my eyes and my brain was screaming �UGH!!��and, worst of all, I was having trouble concentrating on my bookkeeping! I told him I would be out of town the following week.

Well, he has since sent me two e-mails to say how much he �enjoyed our conversation��that I was �easy to talk to��and did I want to meet up one night when I got back??

Of course, I never responded to the e-mails�and, hopefully, that will be the end of SM. But NOT the end of whiny guys in general�you can count on that!!

I once had a blind date with a guy who whined about what kind of drink to order�

�Oy�I don�t know what to have. I don�t really drink. What�s a good drink? What would I like? What are YOU having�

�Vodka with cranberry juice.� (you chipmunk!)

�Okay�I�ll have that, too�

The drinks arrived. Then, in a really loud whiny voice, he said:

�Oh my GAWD. This is really TART. How can you drink this, Linda? Oh, WOW�my palate is tightening up.�

After THREE sips, he told me he felt �tipsy��and needed to get something to eat. I said, �Sure�let�s just relax and finish our drinks first.�

Even the bartender was cracking up. I was mortified.

�I need to eat NOW,� he sniveled.

�Chill out, dude..!!�

With that�he reached over the bar and grabbed the plate of margarita salt�shook some into the palm of his hand�and LICKED it off.

�What the FUCK is wrong with you?�

�I said I was hungry�I needed salt.�

�Okay�well now you have to go. This date is officially over." (after 20 minutes!).

He said, �Well, FINE!!� �and stormed out the door. Two minutes later he walked back in to ask, �Can you at least tell me where the nearest Japanese restaurant is?!!!�

So, last night in bed I was thinking about all the whiny weasels I�ve been out with over the past few years�which led to a totally wacky (here it comes!) DREAM�

I was having dinner at Caffe Rosso with WOODY ALLEN, the quintessential whiner, with whom I was having an affair. We were with another couple�Ellen DeGeneres and Portia di Rossi. Woody was thinking of casting Portia in his next film.

Portia was guzzling Pinot Grigio like she'd been stranded in the desert for a week, and Ellen was pounding back vodka rocks. Woody drank seltzer and ordered a small steak and a salad. I had linguine with white clam sauce and joined Portia in demolishing two more bottles of Pinot Grigio. �Us girls� were having a blast�well, until Portia and Ellen started making out like monkeys. Then it was back to Woody who was complaining about finding sand in his arugula.

�Why can�t they WASH this? Why do I have to find sand in my salad.? They�ll probably charge me EXTRA�they�ll tell me it�s special ITALIAN sand�that it�s good for me�it�s FIBER.�

�STOP it!!!. Just ask the waiter to bring you something else.�

�I don�t want anything else. I�m full already. And I�m sitting here watching the middle-aged daughters of Sappho play tonsil hockey.�

�Lighten up.�

�Why do they have to exchange saliva in a place where people are eating? It�s not SANITARY. I�m getting nauseous.�

�You�re ALWAYS nauseous.!!�

Woody told Portia we were leaving and that he�d call her in the morning. She and Ellen decided to stay�and ordered nightcaps and zabaglione to go with their �tongue pie.�

Back at my place, I started pouncing on Woody�s frail and liver-spotted body. I was definitely drunk�and horned up from watching the lesbo love-fest.

�No, STOP�I�m not in the mood.�

�Si, Si, mio piccolo uomo! Desidero la vostra salsiccia..!!�

�Not tonight�and stop with the Italian. I don�t know what you�re saying�and I�m dizzy.�

What a buzz-kill, but I persisted, while stroking his scrawny, scaly little legs�

�Mio ragazzo, li bisogno.�

�NO, LINDA�will �ya stop already. I have a headache, and I think I�m getting a cold.�

�Diami il vostro rafreddore� ...and I started kissing him.

(Mind you�up close�his lips are all thin and chapped and naysty�from playing the clarinet, I guess. Anyway, they�re quivery old man lips�but I was really horny.)

�Look,� says Woody, �Your garlic breath is killing me. Get off me. And your breasts are too big.�

�WHAT? You always LOVED my breasts!� You were OBSESSED with my breasts.�

�Well, I, I, I used to like them�but now I�m into really small breasts. In fact, I�m not into breasts at all. No breasts...that's what I like now.�

What a stupid conversation. I�m thinking�WHY can�t I just be a lesbian and get fixed up with one of Ellen and Portia�s friends? At least they like to have a few cocktails�they love sex�and they really like to dance.

Instead, I said�

�Well, then get the HELL outta here, you myopic meiskeit midget! Go back to your flat-chested Asian girlfriend with the frying-pan face. I�m sick of your whining�and your indigestion�and those ridiculous baggy corduroys.�

Now I was really in a wine-fueled Barese frenzy�.

�I want a real, life-size man who knows how to flirt and tease and make love. A guy who has the �what-with.� Someone with ENERGY�and a BIG DICK..!!! You are a depressing little troll�and you have dandruff..!! And your last four movies SUCKED. I don�t know why I ever started seeing you in the first place. You�re a drag. GET OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!�

Well, the yelling woke me up�so, I guess it's YET another failed "REM relationship" for me..!! ARRgggh!

(Still, Annie Hall is one of my all-time favorite movies.)


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