So, BDI and I pretty much have nothing in common. He openly admits to having expunged some riff raff (Let's do the time warp again) from an apartment complex he bought and resold. I fully intend to picket with my Save Montrose signs when my house gets sold by the capitalist and to the capitalists.
BDI has many a fancy thing...like the sassy computer I'm typing this on while he naps naked on his remote controlled Temurpedic bed, complete with vibrating action and all. I think about the rabbit ears on my 19" television set from the early nineties.
He's active in some organization that he just today was elected VP of social activities. My phone hasn't rung in the last 4 hours.
We drive around Scottsdale in his two door BMW. I think about the irritating piece of tinting that's coming off the window of me killer 'rig'. He's got horrible road rage. Oh wait...so do I. Nix that one.
We lead enormously different lives. There are many sexy things about his grand life. But sometimes I wonder what would happen if he sat outside, on the deck one night and was just with himself and a cigar. Would the introspection prove too much? Would loneliness and isolation grab hold of him and shake him like a rag doll? Would the pangs of reality be overwhleming? It's easier to push them to the back of your mind when you have money and vast popularity.
What happens when he's 50? Will he still be flying random girls out to his house for a weekend of pretending to be boyfriend/grilfriend?
Past all that. He's so much fun. He's actually got a great sense of humor that occasionally goes places it shouldn't. Ok. So, maybe we have a couple things in common.
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