Charlie

Depends on how you define "relationship." If you mean a romantic affair, my shortest was probably about a week. If you mean a domestic relationship, the shortest was four years.

The white Renault 10 in #211 was the first brand new car I ever bought. It cost $1725. (That is not a misprint.)

I used to get viral infections, especially sore throat, several times per year. When I stopped hiring years ago, the throat infections stopped.

One escort 8 times in 9 years, one 5 times in 7 years (but a couple of times were unintentional, because he kept changing his ID), one 4 times in 3 years; no one else made it past 3 encounters.

However, after managing to get into a tie for the lead, he ended up tied for 7th.

OK, who can identify the car in #190?

My uncle had a 1957 DeSoto hardtop. I had a '58 Plymouth Fury with push button transmission. It was hard to get used to shifting gears with my left hand, but easier than doing it with a manual shift in a right-hand drive vehicle in Europe and Australia.

Well, at least it is a place where you could carry a sign saying "Looking for someone with a sling" and not feel self-conscious.

If we had a county fair in the county in which I grew up, or in the two urban counties (New York and Philadelphia) in which I lived most of my adult life, I was never aware of it. We do have a big and apparently well-attended fair here in Riverside County, but I have never been to it.

In my flaming youth, the first three were places one went to find sex, but Rehoboth was a place one went to have sex with a traveling companion. It was always much more low-key than the other three, because it was filled with gays from DC who needed discretion. But I haven't been back since before Stonewall, so I don't know what it is like now.

Yes, but as they say in those discreet reviews, that will remain private between us.

Of course, I made the trek out to Versailles on my first trip to Paris in 1971. Some of the buildings were not open to the public at that time, so what I remember more is the gardens.

Why didn't I think of that?

My partner and I always go out to dinner at a good local restaurant on my birthday. If it is a milestone birthday, I try to do something extra. For instance, on my 70th, we went out to dinner with an old friend, at a fashionable restaurant near his flat in London. On my 35th birthday, I was feeling depressed about growing old, and decided I didn't want to do anything. I was persuaded to stop by a friend's house for a drink, and when I walked into the living room, three dozen people shouted "SURPRISE!" That is still my best birthday ever. My partner's birthday also happens to be the anniversary of the day we met (at a birthday dinner party that a friend of his arranged), so we usually make more of an elaborate occasion out of that. On his 75th birthday, I surprised him by arranging for a chauffeured 1940 Cadillac to take us on a wine-tasting tour in the Santa Ynez Valley. It blew my gift-giving budget for the year, but I figured it might be the last milestone birthday celebration he would remember. I was wrong: for his 80th, his youngest brother threw a huge family shindig that brought the whole family together in their Ohio hometown for a weekend of nostalgia. My best friend threw a wonderful catered bash for family, friends and colleagues, to celebrate his 50th birthday. He said he did it because he had a premonition that he might not have another true milestone birthday. He was right: he died at 54. So go ahead and treat yourself on your day.

I used to own #94!

What I don't like about making my bed is that it is so difficult to find sheets that are not 100% cotton, which means that they are always wrinkled, and I refuse to iron sheets. I used to be able to buy decent colored sheets that were cotton-polyester blends of various kinds that stayed relatively unwrinkled, but I can't find them any longer. That means that I always have to use some kind of spread over them, and they are getting harder to find--at a reasonable price--as well.

I really don't miss the real Sunday paper. I always felt an obligation to read everything, and now I only read as much of it as I feel like reading online. It's sort of like this MB: I used to read every thread, and not I skip over most of it.

Home delivery of The Desert Sun costs a couple dollars more than buying it every day on the newsstand. I used to love reading the Sunday NY Times, but delivery was costing me $90/mo; then I learned I could get it digitally for $15/mo.

I have been there often, so of course one time I took advantage of the opportunity to do what the name suggested. I have also been to Weed, California, a number of times, but never indulged.

On the newsstand, our local paper, The Desert Sun, costs $2, and the Los Angeles Times costs $2.75. However, we have both delivered early each morning, because my spouse likes to cut out the crosswords and work on them during the day. I have a digital subscription to the New York Times, for $15/mo.

One of my favorite pieces of furniture is our living room sofa, which we bought in 1972. When we moved to CA in 2004, we had the frame and stuffing renovated, but the upholstery (a Belgian fabric that has worn like iron) was in such good shape that all it needed was cleaning. If one buys good furniture and takes care of it, there is no need to replace it, unless one just wants something different, or needs something different in a new space. For years our dining room table was one we inherited, that had been handcrafted for my spouse's grandparents in 1904. It did eventually become rickety, so we replaced it with a new, modern one in 1976; it didn't stand up quite as well, so we had to replace that one with another new one in 2017. My secretary desk was made from a Williamsburg pattern by a carpenter for my mother-in-law in 1950, and it is solid as a rock. It would be foolish to replace it just because it has some nicks and scratches from numerous moves.

The title of this thread brought back happy memories of all those exciting days and nights cruising Washington Square, Christopher St, Greenwich St, CPW, 42nd St. etc. A lot changes in sixty years.

Loved him, loved the book. And, boy, does his passing make me feel old.

Nowadays, I usually wake as soon as there is any light in the sky, because if one wants to get anything done outdoors in Palm Springs in summer, one has to do it before it gets too hot (i.e., before the temperature gets into triple figures). When I was young and wild, however, I often got home from my nighttime adventures about the same time I now get up to start the day.

On Friday, it was 119 here in Palm Springs. At night, long after dark, it was still 106. When I took the dog out to do his business, he looked around, said no thanks, and went back inside. During the day, I have to carry him to a neighbor's beautiful lawn and put him down on the grass in the shade of a tree to get him to do anything, then carry him home again. This morning I started playing tennis at 7:30; we normally play till 9:30, but at 8:50 the temperature on court was 101, so we decided to quit. We had reservations for dinner this evening on the outside patio of a local restaurant, but I called and asked them to change the reservation to a table indoors, because the temperature at dinnertime is supposed to be 108.