One romantic evening to go, hold the prostate

One of the great things about living in New York City is that you can take your boyfriend out for a deliciously economical, economically delicious birthday dinner right on your very own block, and then a mere ten blocks later you can be ice skating under the stars, and it's so much easier than you remember it, certainly much easier than your questionable attempt at roller-skating several months earlier, and right at the perfect moment Stevie Wonder comes on the sound system with "My Cherie Amour," and as if things couldn't get more perfect, your boyfriend looks over at you and calls you his Cutie Patootie, and you look longingly into his eyes (or would, anyways, if it wouldn't make you lose your concentration and fall on your back) and you tell him how sweet that was, except then he tells you that in fact what he had said was that he keeps tooting....and normally at this point you might curl your lip and skate away in mock disdane, except that on this particular evening, New York City is the perfect place to live and you are full of prosciutto and pumpkin ravioli and mussels and red wine and profiteroles and the air is cool but not too cold and you remembered how to ice skate and you're glad your boyfriend got born, so instead you just slip your arm into the crook of his elbow and keep on skating.



In other news -- and I only turn to overly-personal life details to counterbalance my complete and utter lack of recent postings -- my doctor thinks I have a prostate infection (hence the New Years Eve antibiotic tequila cocktail nightmare), which seems to have now disappeared, except I researched prostatitis this evening, and the suggested homeopathic remedies include:

1.Drink plenty of water.
2.Limit or avoid alcohol, caffeine and spicy foods.
3.Urinate at regular intervals.
4.Have regular sexual activity.
5.If you're a cyclist, use a "split" bicycle seat, which reduces the pressure on your prostate.

My avoidance of contact sports such as cycling renders number five a moot issue, and number four should be easily remedied with some persuasive health-oriented pleading, but as someone who forgets to drink his water, likes his booze and coffee, and whose profession has required that he become necessarily adept at holding it, I seem to be on a clear path towards chronic, vomit-ridden prostatitis. At least it sounds cool.