Tuesday, October 16, 2007

The Doctor Howard

Howard was the second boyfriend I had after I moved to NY from Paris. He was much older than me and he was my first, and last, father figure. He gave me my first vibrator and made me write my name on it so it wouldn’t get mixed up with all the other sex toys he brought to my house. I've still got it.

He was in town on Saturday and we had dinner at La Poubelle in the Hollywood Hills. He made me nostalgic for the days when I dated guys who were smart and interesting. He’s been around the world a few times, invented a heart monitor for children and is a plastic surgeon by trade. Five weeks ago he was in Tanzania performing reconstructive surgery on cancer patients. At dinner he explained the relationship between Kosovo and the Soviet Union to me because I didn't fucking know where Kosovo was but knew which rehab Lindsay Lohan had been in. I'm not bragging, just so we're clear.

The last man I went out with in LA took me to a doctor’s appointment and as I was admiring the art work in the hallway he walked up and called it “faggot art.” After he used that word a few more times, I dumped him. His ignorance embarrassed me. There are a lot of men in LA who fall into this category. Just dumber than a box of hair. And not as interesting.

Howard preparing to race his Formula Atlantic car at Lime Rock, Connecticut. Other drivers called him the most dangerous man on the course because he only wanted to win. He didn't care about crashing because he really didn't think he would. And he never did.

Howard was the first wealthy man I dated in the US. And just like his European counterparts, rich has a downside. Rich can get anything and anyone he wants and they usually do. I was once in the back seat of a Jeep that Howard and his friend Larry were driving in the Hamptons. They were talking about all the women who flocked to them which was surely a testimony to how incredibly hot Howard and Larry were. I finally leaned over and said, “It’s cuz you guys have an unlimited supply of coke.” They burst out laughing because they knew that was the real reason they got women. And since when are the names Howard and Larry associated with anything hotter than a shawl?

Did Howard cheat on me? Mais bien sur, mes enfants. We went out for 3 years and he was married the whole time. Sometimes we would double date with his wife and her boyfriend. Howard and his wife would sit up front in their stretch Mercedes and the boyfriend and I would sit in the back rolling our eyes at them. Howard had so many girlfriends that I could never keep up. The good news was that after him? I knew all the signals of a serial cheater and never dated one again.

We used to go to Xenon in NY and Howard’s largess was so well known that people would always sit at our table because they knew that he would automatically pick up the tab. Once, a very annoying couple waited until the bill was dropped and then just took off. I told Howard that he couldn't let those people get away with that and he just shrugged. And of course, because he doesn’t really care about money, it always finds its way to him. He is the living embodiment of The Secret.

It's impossible to be bored around Howard. There aren't many people I can say that about. Howard in China. Do you know anyone besides Jack Hanna who has held a panda cub?

He owns an entire brownstone in NY and told me that one of his staff just ripped him off to the tune of $30,000 and took a diamond heirloom that belonged to his father.

“I don’t give a shit about the money, but my father’s pin? Broke my heart.”

I don't ever foresee the day that I'll say, "Wow, it's only $30,000, who gives a shit?"

Howard hired people to give his staff lie detector tests. Five of them did not do well so now he’s having them pass the lie detector test that the police administer. It's just so typical Howard.

End of chat.

12 comments:

  1. very interesting- i've never understood open relationships- except that most crash and burn at some point- is he still married to her?

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  2. They divorced a million years ago and then she got a brain tumor and remarried him. When she was in remission from the brain tumor she couldn't believe she had married him again and divorced him that day!

    She died from the second go around of the brain tumor and Howard was destroyed. He just told me one of their sons had a little girl and was named after the mother.

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  3. surcie7:21 AM

    Re 1st paragraph = I hope you used a Sharpie.

    Howard = interesting guy. But eeew.

    Howard & Larry = Naturally, I think of Howard K. Stern and Larry Birkhead. And yes, I've seen hotter shawls.

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  4. Yeah, it was a Sharpie and I wrote Q on it. (my nickname from a lot of my friends)

    And yes, eeew.

    Actually, I like Birkhead, I think he's kinda hot.

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  5. Blogger just ate my comment. Bottom line? You have led quite the life, and I love reading about it...

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  6. I'd like to be all nonchalant about 30 grand, too. I'd like it even more to be all nonchalant about 30 mill. And being totally ignorant of the lie detector hierarchy, is the police version easier or harder than the professional version? (Although stating it like that, I may have just answered my own question.)

    @jess - sometimes Blogger is rude like that and just eats your stuff without asking. Next time, if you catch it in the act, stab it with a fork to teach it a lesson.

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  7. Jess, yeah, I've had an interesting life, and that's an understatement.

    jami, the purpose of the 2 lie detectors is to compare them. He didn't say if one was harder than the other. I just couldn't believe that he could get the police one administered, but if you knew Howard, it's not REALLY than much of a shock.

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  8. Funny, I don't remember any of this. Nor having lost my hair.

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  9. I laugh because my husband's name is Lawrence (Larry) Howard. ha ha

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  10. Oh Howard, that halo is making you look all honest when we both know what's in your lying heart.

    erika, oops.

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  11. Bah! I have a pet panda and TWO Formula-One race cars! I win!

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  12. Howard would like you. He likes guys who play to win.

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