“Robert Downey Jr. just DM’d me,” I said to hubby.
I could be naked in front of hubby, and he’d continue reading his sci fi book, but this previous bit of information got his attention.
I continued, “He said I was good looking. Do you think it’s a fake account?” I half hoped that it wasn’t.
“Well, you are good looking. But sorry, that was probably some low-T 50-year-old.”
“So I wasn’t following the real Robert Downey Jr?”
Hubby shook his head. “I think it has to say, ‘therealrobertdowneyjr.’”
“I thought it could have been him because I told him that I enjoyed the documentary about his dad. I was being original instead of the usual fan that says, ‘I loved Iron Man. How do you memorize all those lines?’”
“He probably would have appreciated that. If it was the real Robert Downey Jr. “
“Well, that was a waste of DM bandwidth.”
“Be careful who you follow.”
Hubby went back to his book about a galactic war around a new Quantum Drive technology (whatever that means).
I’m also a Keanu Reeves fan. Not so much for his acting but his human nature. Have you seen all the videos showing how wonderful and down to earth he is?
Oh look, he’s waiting for the bus—
There he is taking the subway along with a housecleaner and a receptionist. He’s just like you and me.
And he has a normal looking girlfriend who doesn’t care about lighting, make up and botox. I love this guy.
Here’s how I imagine the meeting with his publicist at Rogers and Cowan—
A blonde woman, Lindsay, (there’s actually a publicist named Lindsay at R and C) meticulously chooses her daily outfits to look thrown together. She takes her Maltese, “Fred Astaire”, with her to sushi meetings and feeds him salmon sashimi.
“Keanu. Kee. Can I call you Kee? Here’s how we’ll publicize you. We don’t need pictures of you in a Ferrari or private plane.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t own those,” says “Kee.”
“We’ll just follow you with a camera.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all we need. People are going to love the fact that you actually go to the market, drop off your own dry cleaning and that you run a children’s charity—”
“I don’t want people to know about that charity stuff.”
“What? The public will eat it up. And they’ll donate. If it’s good enough for Kee… Or what about the time you invited trespassers into your home for a beer? Do that again. I mean really. You never invited ME over for a beer—”
“Well, uh—”
“And remember when you jumped out of an airplane to sign an autograph—”
“That was a car, not an airplane.”
Okay, so it wasn’t TheRealKeanuReevesOfficialNotADeepFake. I’ve learned.
My biggest disappointment was about 10 years ago on LinkedIn. I asked to Link with a mega Hollywood producer. He accepted my request and I was thrilled. I was in. A foot in the door. I asked if I could send him a logline for my screenplay. He wrote back, “You have a nice smile.”
Ugh!
I ask you, dear reader, was that a genuine compliment or a pickup line? We weren’t discussing facial expressions. I didn’t inquire if I had a piece of lettuce stuck in my tooth or if the Crest White strips were working.
I asked hubby what I should do.
“What a dick. He made you feel uncomfortable. Don’t respond.”
I didn’t respond.
A couple months later about thirty screenwriters I knew from a class were all friends with him on FB. They were interacting, writing sycophantic comments about pictures he posted from the movie set or with his wife and kids.
Maybe it was just an innocent compliment after all. He had a family for f-ks sake. What if I had just responded, “Thanks for the compliment but can I send you my logline?”
Anyway, it was too late. I moved on. There are other sharks producers in the Hollywood ocean.
I recently posted a sequin gown on Offer Up. I knew I wouldn’t wear this gown again and thought I could sell it. I posted a picture of myself wearing the dress. The first bite I got was, “I’d like to see you out of the dress.”
Reader, I was a hot mess in this picture. No make-up. No smile—and when I don’t smile I look like I’m frowning. That’s what happens when you have a big mouth. Your skin and lips have nowhere to go but down. I should have learned from Mary-Louise Parker.
I wrote back, “I’ve been happily married for 32 years,” and blocked him.
And now Substack has Direct Message. Luckily the first DM drops into a request section.
It was the day Substack announced the new feature that I got a creepy DM.
“Hello pretty lady.”
Noooooo!! On Substack? Really? And there’s no block button and I can’t erase this message lingering in the request box. (Thanks,
Originator of Creepy DM’s… Facebook
The single middle aged guys on FB are hilarious. Scroll through their photos and you will see them yachting, shirtless at the gym, gazing a sunset or surrounded by busty young women on a yacht.
I am left wondering, who are these desperate dudes and have they ever had success with these pick up lines? (Or, more aptly, prick up lines.)
One imaginative answer I had was that they were probably 14-year-old boys giggling their asses off, creating profiles, finding a stock profile photo of an everyman with a mustache. (The Hollywood producer was real. He had an IMDB profile.) Then I imagined a woman responding to them, saying she wanted to have a tryst and the boys freaking out, trying to scrub the account while little Bobby’s mom tells him to take out the garbage. But one of the boys, the daring chubby one, Luke, wants to meet the woman in person. He convinces his friends they should set up a date. Turns out, the date is with one of their classmate’s single mom! (Remember Stifler’s mom?)
Still. A gal can dream-- that there aren’t so many douchebags out there.
Before we get to questions and comments I wanted to share newcomer to Substack and fellow humorist,
at Age of Enlightenment.And a quick announcement. I’m putting aside my WIP novel because it’s loosely based on my family and I’m not quite ready to share. So. I’m either going to write a novel version of my screenplay, Emails From Heaven, which was a quarter finalist in two contests and a “Recommend” by WeScreenplay, or, work on a TV sitcom idea.
Finally, I was just published in Defenestration Magazine. Click here.
Meet me in the comments
Hey good looking subscribers with nice eyes—what’s the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard? Or used?
I would have to agree with you about Keanu Reeves. After having personally met him, the dude is so down to earth he's reclining on the ground. No pretense whatsoever. And that sheepish Bill-and-Ted smile? Damn. Just. Damn. Also, I tried voting for your next project and Substack came back with an error. So, I'm choosing Emails from Heaven. That one sounds like a good YA "War Games" feel to it.
Does anybody else find the picture of Keanu Reeves waiting for a bus ironic?