Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons (10 page)

me:   I'm not planning on outing anyone's lewd behavior, but I do plan on giving out ringing endorsements. At least for Jodi.

judy: Jodi is single? Oh, good! I have a great book for her!

me:   No! Leave her alone. She's
my
project!

judy: Why is she single, anyway? She's so sweet and nice, I can't believe she'd even need your help in that department.

me:   Well, she didn't exactly
ask
for it. I'm just kind of doing it. My matchmaking services are like those obnoxious, out-of-the blue offers from Dish Network. Anyone with a TV is eligible.

judy: Just be careful. Some people might not take well to you butting in and taking over.

me:   Oh, that's rich! Are you the pot or the kettle?

judy: Very funny. What's Jodi's e-mail address? Really. If she
Acts Like a Lady But Thinks Like a Man
 …

me:   I said no! I have it under control. Besides, Jodi is too nice to tell you where you can stick your advice books.

judy: No offense, but you're not exactly an expert on relationships. How long did it take for you and Bart to finally realize you were more than best friends?

me:   Six years. And I think even your pal Oprah would agree that some of the best relationships start with that foundation.

judy:
Humpf.
My grandkids could be going to kindergarten now if you were a bit more perceptive.

me:   Or you and I could be bitter enemies because your incessant procreation badgering put me over the edge. Finally.

judy: I doubt it. I've been badgering you for years. You won't budge. Tell Jodi to try online dating. I just saw the commercial that says one out of five couples meet online. And I know just the book to help her write a profile. They were just talking about it on TV. Oh, what show was that—

me:   I'm not putting her online.

judy: There are apparently key words that men subconsciously gravitate to and ones that instantly repel them.

me:   If only there were words that would instantly repel mothers. But don't worry. It's covered.

judy: Why? Are you giving her that bottle of human sex pheromones I ordered for you from the Philippines?

me:   No.

judy: The glitter love dust from New Orleans?

me:   No.

judy: The rose quartz from the psychic I met in the Bahamas?

me:   No.

judy: What could possibly be more powerful than a psychically charged piece of rose quartz; the pheromones from the most attractive, fertile Filipino women; and good old-fashioned voodoo?

me:   A set of pink dice; a bodacious, bad-ass barbaric alter ego; and some good old-fashioned role-playing.

judy: No! You're a terrible friend! Jodi doesn't even play D&D.

me:   Minor hurdle. She's just going to look the part. The rest will fall into place.

Judy: I still think the book I heard about would be better. The author is a renowned couple's therapist. She knows what works! Come on, what show was that—

me:   What's the difference between
your
books and my D&D books?

judy: My books are written by experts. The authors are world authorities on relationships and psychology. They have proven track records! They've been in
USA Today
!

me:   My books are written by experts. Dungeon Masters are experts on relationship psychology. D&D's been around for more than three decades, so that's a pretty decent track record. D&D has been in
USA Today.

judy: Really?

me:   Really.

judy: Well, I still think you should give me her address. You know, for backup.

me:   No way. Talk about being a terrible friend.

Let's pick on single people, shall we? What? Everyone picks on them. At least it seems like that from the pile of self-help available to this lot in life. I feel like I can offer my own advice here (but not make fun of them) because I have spent 99% of my own life in this camp and 98% of my life fending off the advice of Judy and other well-meaning friends.

Saying things like, “How can you be single?” and “What's wrong with these guys?” doesn't help. First, I hadn't really thought about why I was single or what was wrong with all my possible suitors. Are you implying that I had all the tools at my disposal and have somehow messed up, therefore guaranteeing me a lifetime of spinsterhood? Or that my potential suitors are all broken, flawed, idiotic, or too wrapped up in their action
figure collections to give me the time of day? And
that's
the pool I get to choose from? Thanks. (And for the record, there are worst things than action figures for a guy to be into: raising and slaughtering goats, meth-making, and the
Twilight
saga, to name a few.)

Second, people always assume that single people don't want to be single, which may or may not be true. Hey, you don't know what kind of baggage I'm toting around that prevents me from coupling. Maybe the onus isn't on the guys. Maybe there
is
something wrong with me. Maybe my shrink staunchly advised against dating, fearing for the safety of others. Maybe I'm sorely in need of a shrink! (And also, for the record, there's nothing wrong with having a shrink. Especially if your insurance plan covers it.)

Third,
single
does not mean
alone.
Do you know single people have the freedom to date as many people as they like? At the same time? Just because someone isn't in a
committed
relationship doesn't mean they're not having relations.

While I may have tried to give people that impression because I was sick of answering their
why what how
questions, it was definitely rooted in frustration rather than reality. The only “relations” I was having were with the sandwich artists at the Subway down the street and Fred, the guy who delivered my pad thai every Thursday night.

By contrast, we have my friends who are always in a relationship. One's been dating since nursery school and has never gone more than three months without being “the other half.” And we're talking good, healthy relationships, too. She was the first one of my group to get hitched and she probably already has a cabin booked to celebrate their golden anniversary on a Carnival Cruise to Cozumel.

Me? I was a late bloomer. Don't get me wrong. I went on dates. I had tons of crushes that were more fun to not act on and a few long-term relationships. Most important, I got very good at ignoring Judy's musings on what it would be like to have a son-in-law and my cousin Lulu's inquiries into my sexuality. Hey, Lulu, if you thought I was gay because I was single, then wouldn't that just make me a single lesbian? I'm not getting how one excludes the other. Whatever.

Having a boyfriend never defined who I was. Either I was single or I wasn't. And when I was I always had seemingly endless fodder to write about, like why people are so obsessed with single people.

I admit that I, too, am obsessed with single people, regardless of my own relationship status. Or more to the point, obsessed with setting people up. I'm quite good at it, too. Just pick someone from column A, match them with someone from column B, and presto! A couple!

Matchmaking is the kind of butting in I can get behind. While I was always the friend everyone claimed they couldn't believe was single, no one ever tried to fix me up, claiming they didn't have any friends they thought were “good enough.” Seriously? Then why are you friends with these people? Truthfully, I think no one had any idea what kind of guy I would be attracted to. He'd have to be part Simon Le Bon, part Simon Doonan, and part golden retriever. Hmm … now I can see why I never went on blind dates.

But seriously, why can't we leave the single people alone? Shouldn't we put all this “find a cure” energy into something meaningful like cancer or adult acne? And by “we” I mean “mothers.” And by “mothers” I mean “Judy.”

Judy treated my singlehood the way an experimental doctor might treat a rare, recursive virus.

“Try online dating! I'll pay for your first three months!”

“Try going out more! I'll buy you a new outfit!”

“Try reading this book! It and thirty others just like it are on their way!”

The books! There are more books promising to find the lid for your pot than there are Italian cookbooks for beginners. It's true. I counted. I knew what Judy's motivation was—a bad case of Grandma Envy. Finding me a mate wasn't so much about making sure I always had someone to pick me up at the airport as it was about ensuring there would be a small person with her delicate ankles and a button nose sitting at the kids' table on Thanksgiving.

“That's not true,” Judy insisted when I told her my theory. “I just wanted you to be happy. That's all any parent wants for their kids.”

“But again, you're equating happiness with couplehood. I know plenty of couples who are anything but happy.”

Even Judy had to agree with that. But “happy” to her means
someone to take care of you.
“What if you needed to go to the hospital or had the flu or slipped in the bathtub?”

I reminded her of the time I stabbed myself while de-pitting an avocado,
in front of Bart
, and had to calm him down before removing the paring knife from my palm. Neither of us is good with crisis, I'm afraid. But it was nice having someone to open the wine bottles while my hand was bandaged.

I have another speculation as to why single people get picked on. It's because they're an easy target. Everyone thinks they know how to manage someone else's sad, lonely life better than they do. I mean, obviously, right? These people are sad and lonely. Look up “single” in the dictionary and that's exactly what it says. I'm kidding, of course, but that is the way it seems if you spend any time perusing the self-help books Judy sent me. (And don't look at me like that! Of course I at least peeked at them.)

Dave Barry said, “A person who is nice to you but not nice to the waiter is not a nice person.” I believe it and think of that every time I'm out to eat with someone. I also believe there's truth in the saying, “A person who is nice to you but not nice to the Dungeon Master is not a nice person.” The DM is essentially your host. You wouldn't be playing D&D without him or her. That reason alone warrants at least a thank you, not to mention a six-pack and a pizza.

The same goes for how the Dungeon Master treats his or her players. You don't want to play a game with someone who uses it as an outlet for their control issues.

“Ahh, the dragon rolled 119 damage! You all die horrible, flaming deaths! Good-bye and get out of my house!”

Ladies? Don't date that guy. And guys? Don't ask that girl if it's that time of the month. In fact, don't ever ask that stupid question. Even if it isn't she'll lie and say it is so when she smacks you upside the head she'll have a good defense.

I don't know what's happening in your home or work life but none of that that should ever make its way to the playmat. I'm not the one who deleted the series finale of Lost from your DVR (although I would have if I could have; why did everyone love that show?). Don't punish my poor little adventurer by throwing her down a trap door with nothing to cushion her fall but a throng of bugbears. She's just trying to make a living here!

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