By Sarah
(I understand that some readers have requested that we put our names up top so they can decide whether to read or pass. You can pass, but I'll be really, really hurt if you do. By the way, this is our 100th blog!)
I've got a dilemma. Should one of my women protagonists in the book I'm currently writing end up with the sexy, young, rock and roll reporter? Or should she go for the mature, used-to-be-wild-but-now-invests-wisely, publisher? Thanks to Andre Agassi and Robby Ginepri, I think I have my answer, though as far as the reading public goes it may be a stinker.
First let me state that in the good old days I was never one to go for mature men. I went for hunks. Young rebel hunks, like Agassi used to be. I didn't care if they could spell my first name with the h or counted on their toes to figure out the tip. If he was tall, dark, good looking and semi conscious, he was on my radar. Some were extremely stupid. Really, really stupid. But cute.
A few years back I caught up with an ex boyfriend who was a complete hunk - still is - and had the IQ of tapioca - still does. We were looking at photos of my kids standing against a gorgeous Vermont hill and I cracked that Vermont was a great place to be, but you couldn't make a living there. "There's a $25,000 scenery allowance," I said, forgetting to whom I was speaking.
Turning to me, blinking his baby blues, he said in all sincerity, "They really pay you 25 grand to live there?" Rim shot.
Fast forward to tennis star Robby Ginepri. Here's his picture.
No doubt about it, he's hot. He also wears his baseball cap backward when he's on center court of the US Open, rips off the sleeves of his tennis togs to better display his muscles, bickers with the referees and tends to toss his racket if things aren't going his way. Oh, puhleeze.
On paper Ginepri is an Adonis next to the nebbishish, balding Agassi with his thickened waist and bad back. (Whatever happened to the bad boy in black who vowed to "clean out the country club"?) And you know what, I love him. I love Andre Agassi more than I did before. I love him bald and sensible. I love that he needs a heating pad at night.
I love the fact that he split with Brooke Shields for the much more practical Steffi Graf (she understands his career!) I love that he lets his kids wake him up at 8 a.m. after beating 
Blake until 1 a.m. I love that he doesn't curse. That he keeps his emotions in check, both high and low, and that he wears his baseball cap properly with plenty of sunscreen and eye protection if need be. Next thing you know I'm going to be hanging out in the Depends aisle, looking for a pickup.
But am I alone? Or do other middle-aged women lust for middle-aged sensibility as I do? And if I hook up the leading female protagonist in my novel with the graying-at-the-temples publisher, will I be turning off younger readers?
It's all very confusing and I value your input. Just be glad that I didn't write about Danny Bonaduce. Now, that would have been a reason to pass.
Sarah
True love is what matters. There are 12 years between my husband and me, for instance. Go where the story leads. (Personally I'd love to see her with the publisher, but only if he had some quality the reporter didn't.) Plus I think it would be a nice break from, well, the usual. ;)
Posted by: Christa | September 13, 2005 at 08:02 AM
Is this blog your blue response to yesterday's "How hard can it be?"
Okay, here's my question: Does anyone take Justin Timberlake seriously? Speaking of soft, that is.
Posted by: nancy | September 13, 2005 at 08:08 AM
Reading the first part of this entry, I keep hearing Julie Brown's song "I Like 'Em Big and Stupid" in my head.
Posted by: JD Rhoades | September 13, 2005 at 08:19 AM
I like the names at the top, but not because I want to skip any posts. I just like to know who's writing before I begin reading.
As for the young hunk vs. mature and debonair...I couldn't really say. I've always liked the nerds. :p
Posted by: LNLisa | September 13, 2005 at 08:53 AM
I dated lots of jocks in high school. Nice bods, not all of them well-equipped above the neck. One, whom we shall call "Bobby," was blond, blue-eyed, gorgeous. Hardly could carry on a conversation, but, hey. Anyway, my sister saw him at our 20th high school reunion and said he was bald and beer-bellied. She named a few other of the football players I'd dated who'd suffered the same fate. Makes me wish I'd looked up Mike Dell, who was probably spending weekends in his garage building computers instead of at the games. Ah, hindsight! I vote for Agassi...I mean, the graying publisher. Though Ginepri is a hunk. (Sorry!)
Posted by: Susan McB | September 13, 2005 at 09:07 AM
What new book? You didn't tell us or did I miss it?
At middle age I still went for the adventurer, those bad boys that offered so much fun. I don't regret any minute of it, I had lots of fun and good times and was never bored.
But here in older age??? my motto is: "I will Never feed and clothe another penis as long as I live."
Posted by: Ann Marie | September 13, 2005 at 09:11 AM
Clothe a penis?!! That's great! I can't tell you the images that came to mind when I read that (after spitting out my coffee by laughing so hard, Ann Marie.) Little hats. Little scarves. (Okay, so I'm a knitter.)Good for you. Penises should be able to clothe themselves, don't you think?
And Lisa, I think nerds and middle-aged sensible men have a lot in common - thorough, deliberate, sensitive, low car insurance premiums, socks paired before thrown in wash. Say things like, "Now, let's not rush to judgment." That line alone makes me all gooey.
Posted by: sarah S | September 13, 2005 at 09:21 AM
sexy young rock and roll reporter vs old and wise publisher is a false choice. there ARE NO sexy young rock and roll reporters. trust me. i know these people.
as for men who pair their socks before they throw them in the wash, they are neither wise nor middle-aged. they are psychopaths.
Posted by: ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude | September 13, 2005 at 09:33 AM
An ex-bf of Sarah's, huh? Okay, we'll see about that. Where's her mole shaped like Australia? And her tattoo of Harry Potter? What kind of Woolite does she soak her delicates in before line-drying? (Okay, yeah, that's a trick question.) I'll bet Josh knows....
Posted by: Susan McB | September 13, 2005 at 09:50 AM
"there ARE NO sexy young rock and roll reporters. trust me. i know these people."
This is the correct answer.
Posted by: JDRhoades | September 13, 2005 at 09:53 AM
When I was younger it seemed romantic to have love go to any lengths. I'm older and (hopefully) wiser. I was in the car yesterday listening to the radio and Bryan Adams' song "Run to You" came on and I was just appalled at the thought behind it. "She has a heart of gold; she'll never let me down" yet he says its okay that he can run to some other chick. I began fantasizing that while he was off running with this hot chick the woman at home was having a fling of her own just to show him. Not that I think flinging is a good thing. I don't see that as a sign of getting old -- I see that values are kicking in over "oh how romantic." Go with the mature guy -- much more substance there.
Posted by: PK the Bookeemonster | September 13, 2005 at 10:16 AM
No, Josh was never a boyfriend. He was on the math team - too smart for me.
This guy really was a rock 'n roll reporter and now works for Vh1 and MTV (I think... I get confused). So he speaks from experience.
True == a lot of rock critics spent their teenage years holed up in their rooms, out of the sunlight, reading liner notes. But the critic in my book is a Brit so, ipso facto, he's genetically pale.
Posted by: sarah S | September 13, 2005 at 10:24 AM
Um, was not implying Josh was the ex-bf (you must read carefully). Was actually making a joke, which means it didn't work if I have to explain that. Nevermind. I'll get back to revisions before Mark yells at me.
Posted by: Susan McB | September 13, 2005 at 10:31 AM
so sarah has a harry potter tattoo now, huh? i knew her before jk rowling was a glint in harry potter's eye. (in case you were wondering about my middle-aged credentials.) as for the australia-shaped mole ... uh, which one?
Posted by: ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude | September 13, 2005 at 10:32 AM
Ahhh, ex-bf of Sarah's...you have a sense of humor! Yay. I was beginning to wonder if it was just too early in the morning or if some people hadn't chugged their quota of caffeinated coffee yet.
Posted by: Susan McB | September 13, 2005 at 10:35 AM
glad we've got that cleared up! now can someone tell me who this josh person is/was?
Posted by: ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude | September 13, 2005 at 10:40 AM
Josh is Sarah's alter-ego. Or maybe they're the same person. I can't tell sometimes. It's confusing.
Posted by: Susan McB | September 13, 2005 at 10:46 AM
Hey, ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude, are you still single? If so...this might be the place for you!
We're all about the love, here at the Lipstick Chronicles.
Get back to those revisions, Susan!!
Posted by: Sarah S. | September 13, 2005 at 10:50 AM
that makes sense; sarah is confused/confusing about a lot of things. anyway, most go now. gotta work on my backhand.
Posted by: ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude | September 13, 2005 at 10:52 AM
(i was obviously replying to susan, not sarah. what sarah says makes no sense at all anymore!)
Posted by: ex-bf of sarah's but not tapioca dude | September 13, 2005 at 10:54 AM
I think it should be the publisher!
I am 23 and you won't lose me!
Posted by: Hannah Ruth | September 13, 2005 at 11:17 AM
I am still stuck on clothed penises. I'm a counted cross-stitch type, myself, and I'm thinking a nice Christmas-themed penis stocking. Perhaps I need more sleep.
Posted by: Harley | September 13, 2005 at 11:55 AM
My, my, my. We have discriminating readers wanting to know whose blogging. Sarah, deciding on hunk writer versus experienced, wise banker, and whoaa....lodging and food for a Penis?? Obviously I need more caffeine this morning.
Kimberly
Who will wander back in after figuring out what in the heck is going on here. Oh and Harley? Would that stocking have bells?
Posted by: Kimberly | September 13, 2005 at 12:07 PM
My, my. You take a lunch break with your favorite ladies and you just never what to expect. Sarah, I'm on the seriously dark side of 50 and I would choose Andre too but I definitely dated Robby types when I was a lot younger. Hubby is a combo of both - has all his hair but is really thin (I sometimes hate him). I think your story should dictate which guy is chosen - one could even argue they are both hunks - one superficially, the other intellectually.
Margery, into needlepoint, not cross-stitching and thinks that Harley has given new meaning to all things Christmas.
Posted by: Margery | September 13, 2005 at 12:38 PM
I think I've always been middle-aged at heart. The bad boys and hot-but-stupid types never turned me on. (Possibly yet another reason I'm still single.) But tell me a man has a degree from Oxford or Cambridge and I'm drooling (though the accent could have something to do with that).
I'd be more likely to be disappointed if she ended up with the hunk writer (which, sorry to say, strikes me as something along the lines of "jumbo shrimp" -- something that sounds impossible), but my tastes seldom reflect those of the general public.
Posted by: Shanna Swendson | September 13, 2005 at 12:42 PM