Rethinking What Kind Of Gonzo Man I Want

(From The Orlando Sentinel -- By Marisol Novak)

I've had a pretty BLEAK WEEK. Not bleak as in -- "It was gray outside, threatening afternoon torrential rainstorms we're famous for in FLORIDA." Although it did rain -- a lot. And I don't mean bleak as in A SERIES OF
ILL-TIMED AND HUMORLESS BLIND DATES WITH DOLTS DISCUSSING POND SCUM. Although there was that one guy.

I certainly don't mean bleak like the last HARRY POTTER BOOK, which has taken me weeks to recover from and realize things will get better, just as they did for HAN SOLO after that stupid EMPIRE STRIKES BACK movie. Although I'm definitely praying that there are no TEDDY BEARS in THE LAST HARRY POTTER BOOK.

No, this week has been bleak because it has been rather INTROSPECTIVE -- all MARISOL, all the time. See, for once I FOLLOWED MY OWN DATING ADVICE. I followed my tips for happiness from LAST WEEK'S COLUMN, and I have to say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I give some of THE MOST TRITE, BANAL, MUNDANE ADVICE IN THE KNOWN DATING UNIVERSE. Sit down; meditate; contemplate; actually see yourself for who you are, and decide what you want?

What am I writing, A SELF-HELP BOOK?

But you know, the funny thing is I do feel better this week. I do feel like I'm ABOUT TO HIT PAY DIRTY IN THE DATING DERBY. Of course, notice the key words in that sentence -- "ABOUT TO." I'm still MISSING A STEP.

Oh, I meditated on all THE ROTTEN RELATIONSHIPS OF MY PAST.
I contemplated why I dated THE WRONG GUY, and WHAT MADE ME STAY, and why I was SO SICKENINGLY SAD WHEN IT WAS ALL OVER. In fact, I did so much work on myself that I figured out the age-old question of WHY GOOD GIRLS GO FOR BAD BOYS. OK, maybe not why all good girls go for bad boys, but I did figure out why this good girl went for so many bad boys -- I was LOOKING TO DATE MY MUSE. I was LOOKING TO DATE MY HERO. I was LOOKING TO DATE MY POP-CULTURE ICON. I was looking for HUNTER S. THOMPSON.

And I don't mean JOHNNY DEPP as Thompson in FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS. I truly mean the real, balding, '70s-sunglass-loving gonzo journalist himself. I know it's A LEAP, but look at it logically. Let's look at the past couple of men in my life.

MISOGYNISTS -- had a couple of those. Boys who didn't want to grow up, or shut up -- yep, a few of those, too. ALCOHOLICS, been there and definitely done them, I mean, that. DECADENTS WHO NEEDED AN AUDIENCE? Self-obsessed, spotlight-loving EGOMANIACS? WRITERS WITH A NEED TO HEAR THEIR OWN VOICE IN PRINT? Sounds like final results of THE PERSONALITY TESTS for the last four or five guys I've let into my life.

What I needed to know before dating these BORDERLINE MEGALOMANIACS is that no other man can be DR. HUNTER S. THOMPSON. No other man can measure up to the good doctor's life. I don't think any man on EARTH could shoot so many rounds (um, of ammunition), do so many DRUGS or WRITE SO MANY WORDS IN ONE LIFETIME other than Thompson. And so I've decided that the only way for me to have a normal relationship, the only way to START ATTRACTING MEN WITHOUT CIGARETTE HOLDERS OR RUM DIARIES -- is to SAY GOODBYE TO THE GOOD DOCTOR once and for all. This will be THE END OF MY INTELLECTUAL AFFAIR WITH HUNTER S. THOMPSON.

And you wonder why I loved this man? Even in death, he has created CRAZINESS, caused A SPECTACLE, having HIS ASHES BLASTED FROM A CANNON and SCATTERED AROUND HIS COLORADO ESTATE. I'm thinking of driving out there, 2,500 MILES AWAY, on A PILGRIMAGE. That will provide me endless hours to form in my head A NEW, STRONGER, MORE REAL, LESS SURREAL BLUEPRINT OF A MAN I want to attract. Someone ATTAINABLE. Someone who'll fit MY NEEDS. Someone LESS LARGER-THAN-LIFE THAN THIS IDEAL.

Maybe JOHNNY DEPP will be suddenly SINGLE?