German, Russian, French, Armenian, English & Dutch.

May I say something?

First, welcome back badboy. I can think of no more appropriate timing for you to chime back in and for we to collectively thank you for your service then as Veteran's Day approaches. So to that end, thank you. And I mean that sincerely. Without good men manning the walls, the barbarians will breech the gate ... and you have stood your turn at that wall. Well done sir.

Now let me get to it. I do not often lean towards the personal here. The occasional metion of my prodigy, yes. The off slur of the ex wife, sure. Even on the phone or throughout my prolific texting, I don't oft delve into the sublime reccesses of the everyday life of F. Ryan. But today is an exception. And while technically everything we write here is "public record", I feel some level of anonimity, if not comfort brought on by famialiarity, and enough to engage these engines.

My ex wife tries to be a good person. And I'm sure some man, somewhere, will find her routine watching of the E Channel, her scouring the pages of celebrity magazines and her obsession with living a Dr. Oz lifestyle, I don't know, "charming."

Just not me.

This is a woman for whom landing on the History Channel is conducive to eye rolling. Not to knock her. Not at all. She's my children's mother. I speak no ill of her in their presence, and really she's not some freak anomoly. I see it every day. Americans, and in this case American females, don't really see the planet outside of their three feet. Their three feet of space is a still point in a spinning world, and they dare not venture outside.

Ipods ... Iphones ... facebook, tweets, re-tweets, and the like. It's high heels, orgasms, and Kim Kardashian's ass, and that's reality, as they know it. Sure, sure an election here and there, save the planet this, buy a Prias that, but come on - who's replacong Simon Cowel, will somebody tell me (or tweet me)? This is the stuff of life.

Now, what is further "not her fault" is that whatever it is about my persona, it attracts the cheerleader type. And to be honest, between the tanning & working out, I probably don't do much to discourage that. People assume I "party", especially given the location of my residence low these many 5 years. But honestly, I do not. I married at 22. I have sons. Good sons. Bright, athletic. I have good friends, the ones here. Smart ... scary smart even. We talk, debate, laugh and take shots at one another. Outside of my current career, I don't feel any void, nor need to go forth and spread my seed as it were, in order to "compensate." I have "friends" (acquaintences is more acuurate) of similar capabilities here in town (read: an innate ability with women), whom exercise it, weekly, if not daily. And you know what? They don't seem all that happy to me ... or rested. And they sure as hell don't know why Stalingrad was a bad choice for Germany. At any rate ... this is the 12 step way of describing a two step point - I don't date much. Don't "hook up" much. Quite frankly, given my track record of dating women fully qualified to sell meat paste by the tube at a truck stop in Tulsa, I have lost faith in the fairer sex. I'm tired of limiting the conversation to one syllable words. It's not elitist, just honest.

Enter my date tonight ...

I just came back from a five hour date. Eyes and hair as black as Russian soil ... 32 ... VP of marketing for a medical equipment company ... grew up in Moscow. Guess what day she became a United States Citizen? Actually got sworn in now ... 9/11/01. She described the experience of taking the oath and knowing what was going on outside in two words - "goose bumps." Can you imagine?

Favorite Channel? History Channel. Even excoriated me for letting my subscription to History International expire. She spent an hour describing growing up in Soviet Russia. All with a smile, and rediculously talented flirting (not an easy task when discussing Communism, I can assure you). She even stopped and asked if it was 'too much", to be discussing geopolitics and the ill effects of central planning on the first date. "Ummmm, no" (my answer - suave, huh?). I must have had to pick my jaw off of the floor 3 times (the first 2, admittadly, were due to her physique, hehe - hey, I'm a scholar, but come on, I'm still a guy). She described the illegal shoe making franchise her grandfather ran in his basement. Her father's "nice car" which he would drive to a bus station, then take the bus to work (as a physician), so as not to arouse suspicion of his "illcit" for profit medical care he offered on the side. Obama's "creeping statism creeps me out" (her words). Traditional despite the obvious attention getting physique - sort of a smartest girl, only to be college educated of the villiage, feel. Tragically her husband died in a car accident years ago, while pregnant with a striking boy, now 7. She's a real person. Real smart. REAL pretty. Let me explain something to you - she could break it off right now, and I'd be inconsolable.

Now, despite my "comfortability" with this site, I wont go into post date activities ... except to say that my lip hurts like hell, and I am convinced she was telling the truth about that teenage German boarding school for girls she attended. But I will say this - I could end up hardly seeing her ever again, or taking my vacations on the Black Sea to visit her family - either way, consider the bar set, and my faith in the fairer sex, RESTORED.

(PS> the subject title of my post? Languages she speaks fluently, which she proved by reciting the words "devastatingly handsome" in all 6. I don't care who you are, that's just cool).