The White Russian

29 Nov

Sometime last spring in the wake of a tough breakup, I reluctantly went to a party in Astoria. This took a lot of wine and convincing a) because it was in Astoria, b) because it was a whole mess of theatre people from college and I hate having the “What are you doing now? Are you auditioning?” talk more than anything in life. No, I’m selling designer handbags for a living and writing about my dysfunctional love life and/or spray painting things I buy from the dollar store in my spare time.
Once at the party, I somehow gravitated towards a youthful individual in a graphic tee paired with a white short and shoe combo. This is odd because I don’t generally appreciate a graphic tee, and I definitely try to steer clear of anyone who wears white pants. I am also rarely attracted to younger guys. We hid from the masses in the kitchen and drank someone else’s champagne that we discovered in the freezer (sorry!). After the bottle was polished off, I gave in to the inevitability that I was going to make out with this White Russian. But first I checked his ID. He told me he was 18 and I needed proof because I don’t have a lot of experience with teenagers. He also shared that he recently had some run-ins with the law, to which I responded with a brief attempt at an “I am older and wiser than you – don’t be stupid” speech. I then took him to the living room, because I didn’t want any lingering thespians to witness the strange collaboration that was about to transpire. Too many people came in and caught on to what was happening, so in my highly-functioning state, I deduced that we had no choice but to take it to the bathroom. The details are blurry and not something I would want my elders to read on the world wide web. I will say that the shower curtain was somehow torn down, rods and all (sorry!).
He contacted me on Facebook the following week in attempt to redeem himself for his shoddy dexterity at the party. I felt bad for him (and myself), so I invited him to a bar he wasn’t old enough to get into while I was out with some friends in the Village. What he was wearing when he arrived both blew my mind and burned my retinas: white hat, white polo, white cargo shorts, white socks, white shoes. We took a long and silent train ride back to my apartment in Brooklyn, where he managed to decimate a couch.
I found out several weeks later that he had spent a week in Rikers and now has a record almost as long as the number of years he has been alive. I was momentarily scarred by my experience with this achromatic teenage bandit, so my next encounter involved a man nearly three times older. Unfortunately, he also had a penchant for white pants…

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  1. The Art of Rebound « What's in the Box? - November 14, 2012

    […] the word “rebound” came to mind.  I did what I could to forget about my ex boyfriend… The White Russian and Clay Aiken.  But a couple months later, I found my rebound in the most unexpected of […]

  2. Where Are They Now? « What's in the Box? - December 26, 2012

    […] The White Russian — The White Russian has given up his life of crime to get married to another White Russian!  I’m glad to hear that he has traded the orange jumpsuit for a pair of marriage sweatpants, but the fact that he is eight years my junior makes me feel really old.  And alone. Glen Fenn – I have run into Glen a few times since our first date.  He is a fun guy and if you are interested, he can be found haunting a certain karaoke bar in SoHo.  Just look for the bright orange hair, the cat vest, and the ghostly grin. Clay Aiken — Clay loves theatre as much as ever.  In fact, he loves it so much he married it and now he can be seen playing a horse in every play in New York.  The real Clay Aiken is seeking legal action after catching wind of his equine financial gains. The Farter — Although The Farter and I met because we were neighbors, he was also on a dating website.  Since my departure from that building, he has found himself a girlfriend, and, I hear, uses his “secret weapon” when he wants some alone time.  Sources couldn’t be reached on whether or not the floral flip flops are still in the picture. Sam the Sailor – Sam was one of the first people I met on OKCupid and we have hung out many times since then.  He was on tour with his band for awhile and I attended a few of their shows.  The last time we saw each other was two months ago when we had a tantalizing time drinking and catching up.  A few days later, I got a TWI (Texting While Intoxicated) after I had gone on a less than exciting blind date and texted Sam on my way home.  He responded with some sort of rude message– his usual M.O.  My friend had also been texting me at the same time and somehow (whiskey) I got the text windows mixed up and sent a text complaining about Sam TO Sam.  He called me out on it and I felt like an idiot, but it’s actually pretty funny in hindsight.  Oh, and he also got married.  But she lives in Canada. Jazz Shoe Man — Yet another happy OKCupid customer who found a significant other.  Judging by his Instagram, Jazz Shoe Man and his lover visit many vegetative lands in the Northeast and enjoy many craft beers.  She loves him for his shoe horns and how well he can line up objects.  Although a very sweet man, I guess it just wasn’t in the cards for us. Brandon from Moose on the Loose – As it turns out, Brandon also has a blog and likes to read online dating blogs in his downtime from law school.  One fateful day, he found my post about him and re-blogged it, sharing his side of the story.  His title was “What It’s Like to Date Me, the Most Disgusting Guy Ever.”  He was referring to, of course, the fact that I mentioned he was sweating for the majority of our date.  I responded to his post, telling him that I had actually found him to be incredibly intelligent and to have awesome taste in music– he wasn’t disgusting at all.  I apologized if he took offense to the post, but I had taken a few creative liberties and changed all identifying information.  I offered to buy him a drink since I never ended up responding to his text to go out months before.  He wrote back that he thought it was more funny than offensive and his rebuttal post was meant to poke fun at himself.  He also said that he would love to get a beer with me, but he was too busy with school for new friends, he was only looking for a girlfriend.  Well, crisis averted. Pepper from A Canadian Conundrum – Pepper recently opened his Off-Broadway show incorporating his passion for tree-planting and dating girls with a woodworker fetish on OKCupid.  He comp’ed me a ticket the other day, so I was lucky enough to enjoy his scientific rap stylings, tackling topics such as ovulation and the SRY gene.  Although from the sound of it Pepper has been doing his fair share of dating, he remains “on the market.”  He’s quite impressive at rapping and you should check out his show. Judgmental Jonah – Judgmental Jonah was days away from carrying out his plan to jump off a cliff, when he met an equally crabby gentleman in the waiting room at his psychiatrist’s office.  They hated all the same things, both had no friends, and both loved watches with stretchy wristbands.  They fell in love and now write down all the things they hate on Post-It notes and stick them to their faces all day long in a big, gloomy apartment in Queens. Brad News — This turned out to be the creepiest OKCupid connection I have ever had.  After my first encounter with Brad, we saw each other one more time.  I wanted to give him another chance (but was also kind of afraid of him), so I met him for a beer before I had dinner plans with someone else.  The entire time we were together, he made possessive and jealous comments about how I was disrespecting him by going to meet another guy.  I reminded him I had been honest and let him know ahead of time I already had plans, and HE was the one who had still wanted to meet.  At one point he stopped speaking and making eye contact with me altogether because I had wronged him so greatly.  It was like we were having a relationship fight and this was only the second time we had ever seen each other!  After he decided he was done being mad at me, he admitted he was recently divorced while simultaneously putting his hands all over my legs and up my skirt.  I left the bar totally freaked out.  Brad continued to contact me all day every day after that, inviting me over every night and sending me rude and sexual texts when I turned him down.  When it became clear he wasn’t going to leave me alone (even after I tried not responding), I made up a story about how I was seeing someone and it would be unfair to both of them to continue this affair.  Ladies, if you encounter a crazed Southern man with a giant geode hanging from his neck and an overwhelming aura of Axe Body Spray, STEER CLEAR.  Trust me on this one. Chad’s Chickens – After neighbors began complaining about a FOWL smell, detectives unearthed a massive underground chicken grave, stretching for miles under the streets of Bushwick.  It turns out, Chad had been burying his chickens (and a few ex-girlfriends) for years, using the ample abandoned warehouses over there as his death coops.  It was learned that he poisoned the birds and any foolish girls he could lure to his home with his “special cider.”  Chad was arrested, his coops destroyed, and now he only communicates with fellow inmates through a series of maniacal clucks. […]

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