Intrigue! Passion! Bubbles! Limbo!

I'm a big fan of Bowtie Cinema's Movies and Mimosas showings on weekend mornings, assuming I haven't been up too late the night before (last night was a reasonable 1:15). My only problem is finding someone interested in doing both with me. It's challenging enough to find someone who'll go to an 11 a.m. movie, much less arrive early enough to imbibe first.

So I finally figured out the solution:I need to go to the movie with one friend and then go do the mimosas with another. Duh. It's so obvious I don't know how I didn't think of it before.

Today's feature was Dial M for Murder, one of my favorite Hitchcock films for its jigsaw puzzle-like perfection. Every piece of action, every clue, every subtle facial expression hang together perfectly in that movie; it's so satisfying to see the British-cool but evil husband proven guilty and acquit the innocent beautiful wife. Meanwhile the passionate American lover (coming across like an eager puppy) tries to help the cause, all the while sublimating his feelings for his true love.

And although my favorite character is the dapper, droll and understated Chief Inspector (there must be something about a man who combs his moustache), my favorite line comes from the would-be murderer and eventual victim: "I'm almost resigned to living on what I earn." I'm almost there myself, buddy.

And of course that oh-so civilized ending when the husband realizes he's been found out and proceeds to make himself a drink while the Chief Inspector calls Scotland Yard. His innate breeding requires that he offer to make drinks for his intended victim and her paramour as well and both accept. I can't quite imagine an American character capable of pouring with such grace.

After parting ways with my fellow Hitchcock lover, I headed straight to my mimosa-loving friend's apartment. She had promised that the champagne would be decent and the orange juice fresh-squeezed; I knew the stories would be good because she'd alluded to that fact when we'd made the mimosa plans. Unlike the recent spate of so many friends finding love, she is still happily reveling in unattached fun. It seems to be working for her.

Loosely speaking, I guess she and I are in the same availability category, although I can't quite make that leap to taking on a friend with benefits. But I can't date either, so I seem to be in limbo.

And after an afternoon of mimosas, I'm almost at peace with my love life being in limbo. Not happy, but accepting. Or maybe that's just the result of opening that second bottle of bubbles...

Romance, Grace Street Style

Sex and romance must have been in the air on Grace Street this morning, judging by the sights and sounds I encountered on my walk.

Grace Street Still Life: A long-stem red rose next to a Bud Light tall boy with the bag pushed down.

Maybe the two things were a thoughtful gift and by the time she finished the beer she forgot all about the rose.

Or maybe he was drinking to get up his nerve to present the rose to her and never quite worked it up.

Touching.

Sing Me a Song: A guy walking towards me singing "Me and Mrs. Jones" at the top of his lungs and in fine voice, I might add.

When he reached me, he threw his arms out dramatically and circled me, singing full-on.

I stopped long enough to be the recipient of a chorus and then clapped and moved on.

A Lesson in the Important Stuff: The window of Exile had a must-read book on display, A Study of Group Sex in Wife Swapping: Sex groups, Free Love, Voyeurs, Exhibitionists, Discipline, Homosexuals, Lesbians.

The subhead keeps going, but I think you get the idea.

Judging by the original price of the book (95 cents) I'm guessing it's a self-help gem from the 60s.

Looking for a bedside reference? Now you know where to find it.

Okay, it wasn't as good as morning sex, but it all had its charm, nonetheless.