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Dick Remote Guy

Below is another excerpt from the forthcoming book, due early next year…

As my mid-thirties approached and I was still unmarried – hell, I hadn’t even strung together more than six months of dating one person in years – I began to feel isolated from the friends I had cherished since our time in college.  The friends with kids weren’t going to leave the house when weekend nights came to pass, and the friends married sans kids weren’t very keen on going to the kind of places single people wanted to go – namely, places with lots of other single people.  Thus began the cycle of having to make a choice each weekend – you could make solitary attempts at finding love, or spend the time enjoying friends while acknowledging you implicitly signed up for one more week of being alone.

No anecdote better summarized the ridiculous hopelessness of dating than the girl who told me the tale of Remote Guy.  It was our second date; the first had gone well enough, and we were exchanging stories of frustration about being thirty-something and single, the well seemingly run dry for the lot of us.  She told me of a guy she dated earlier that summer who sat across the table from her in a bar overlooking Woodward Avenue during the Dream Cruise, a Detroit tradition where classic cars cruise the street one weekend each year.  Looking over the sea of antique steel and car guys, he asked my date “Hey… do you have DirecTV?”

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