Archive | August, 2012

Choose Your Own Adventure

31 Aug

“Richard” and I went out on several dates over the course of a few months, despite his tendency to cancel on me the day before and need to reschedule.  I actually thought I might like him for a day and a half, then realized it was a false alarm.  He was tall, large-handed, and bilingual (pluses), but was unorganized, wore shoes with toe-slots, and wasn’t the most witty shark in the sea (minuses).  Adding to my ambivalence, he went out of his way to inform me that he “really enjoys being single.”  As if the disclaimer was necessary, because I was really looking forward to capturing him in my net and forcing him to be my husband.

The last time we saw each other was a couple months ago.  Naturally, Richard had canceled on me earlier in the week and rescheduled for that evening.  We got drinks at a couple different bars, then went back to his apartment.  I had been there once before and almost didn’t make it out alive– that’s how disheveled it was.  I will now continue the story in the form of a Choose Your Own Adventure.


Once inside his apartment, he digs around in some cluttered piles, searching for a tax document for his business.  When he finds what he’s looking for, he exclaims something about loving being his own boss, then escorts you into his bedroom and shuts the door.  You sit down next to each other at the foot of the bed and it is then that you notice a sizable wad of tissue protruding from his right nostril.  Do you:

A. Tell him he has something major in his nose.  He extracts it and you both laugh, then begin to make out.  You spend the night and leave the next morning for work.  Please proceed to the letter D below.

B. From your seated position, you bounce up and down on the bed a bit, hoping the momentum will dislodge the tissue wad from his nostril.  It works!  The wad tumbles to the ground.  You begin to make out, spend the night, and leave the next morning for work.  Please proceed to E.

C. You bounce up and down on the bed, hoping the tissue will shake loose from his nostril… but it stays put.  You sit in silence next to him and nobody moves for several minutes.  He rubs his nose and the tissue wad vacates his nostril at last.  You systematically remove all of your clothing, piling each item atop his guitar case so as not to lose them in the sea on the floor.  You then lay down on the bed and instantaneously fall asleep.  A few hours later, you awake with a start.  It is 4am.  You leap up, throw on your clothes and tell him to call you a car because you have to go home.  You make it back to Brooklyn and eat a bowl of leftover pasta with some kind of horrid black olive sauce.  The next day at work you are exhausted and can’t rid yourself of the nauseating after-taste of black olives.  Please proceed to F.


D. You and Richard make plans to hang out a week or so later.  He again cancels on you the day before because he forgot he has a conference call for work.  He says you can accompany him to a concert that weekend “if you want.”  When you tell him you already have plans that day, he replies “we’ll talk.”  You take his multiple cancelations as a sign of disinterest and delete his number out of your phone.  Proceed to G.

E. You make plans to hang out a week or so later.  He cancels on you the day before because of a conference call at work and doesn’t reschedule.  You text him back saying “Haha is this your way of blowing me off gently?”  He writes back “I’m not seventeen.  I happen to run my own business and I have a conference call tomorrow then am going out of town.”  You don’t respond and add him to the Do Not Text List.  Proceed to H.

F. You make plans a week later and he cancels the day before.  You acknowledge his disinterest and say “Haha is this your way of blowing me off gently?”  He responds with “I’m not seventeen.  I run my own business, (etc).”  You text back “No prob, bro.”  Proceed to I.


G. You are proud of yourself for dismissing Richard after his condescending text.  He texts you again a week later, but you don’t respond.  Proceed to J.

H. He texts you a week later “How have you been doing?” like you’re recovering from Mono or something.  You will both be out of town the next week, but he suggests you should get together when you’re back to “catch up.”  A couple weeks later, you contact him and reluctantly make plans.  The day before you are supposed to hang out, you receive a text from him saying he has to cancel again.  You wonder if he’s playing a joke on you.  No one double-books THAT many times with the same person unless they don’t have any respect for them whatsoever, or they’re impaired.  He asks if you can reschedule, but this time you say no.  Proceed to K.

I. He texts you a week later and suggests you get together when you’re back in town to “catch up.”  The day before you had planned to hang out, he cancels again.  He asks if you can reschedule and you reluctantly agree– despite the fact that all of your co-workers advise you to tell him off and never speak to him again.  You meet in Nolita and discover that the restaurant he had selected for dinner is closed that night.  You instead get tacos from some brightly-lit taco truck joint before heading to a bar.  After a few beers, you call him out for being terrible at making plans and wonder how someone can successfully run a business when they double-book so often.  He admits he’s kind of an asshole, and looks a little too pleased with himself when he says so.  You end the evening on amicable terms and head back to Brooklyn alone.  Proceed to L.


J. You win the gold medal for self-respect!  Three strikes you’re out, buddy.

K. You win the silver medal for self-respect.  Learn to recognize when enough is enough and quit giving guys so many chances!  Especially if you met them on the internet.

L. You win the bronze medal for self-respect.  Although you rescheduled with him again, you didn’t go back to his place this time.  That is a step in the right direction.


Everyone wins a medal in this story because it was never that earth-shattering of a “relationship” to begin with.  There are, however, lessons to be learned here.  The first being that I inherently give everyone the benefit of the doubt and therefore grant way more chances than most people would even consider.  I’m fairly certain this has given several guys the impression that they can walk all over me (remember The Lying Lumberjack?).  After the second or third cancelation, it’s probably time to call it quits.  Sticking it out through the fourth, fifth, and even sixth cancelation only makes me feel like an idiot.  The second lesson learned is: do not under any circumstances eat puttanesca sauce when you’re drunk.  It makes for a rude tomorrow.  The third lesson is a reinforcement of what my Grandma always taught me:  It’s not always about size… it’s how you use what you got!



25 Aug

Last night I went on two different dates.  The first was with JesusLuvr69.  He told me to meet him at the Empire State Building at 7pm, then later changed our meeting point to some bar in Hell’s Kitchen.  I was already running 30 minutes late, then got off at the wrong stop and had to walk 20 blocks to the bar.  En route, I ran into two separate thespians I knew from grad school.  Hell’s Kitchen is like the thespian mecca.  At that point, I was tired of walking and annoyed that JesusLuvr69 had made me trek all the way up there, so I went into the next bar I passed and texted him to meet me there.  As soon as I sent the text, he called and left me a voice mail, which I ignored.  I had warned him twice I don’t like talking on the phone, and at this point, I didn’t care if he thought I was a brat .  He arrived at the bar in a jolly mood despite my extreme tardiness and change of venue.  He was still in his work clothes (full-blown businessman attire) and seemed like he was probably in a fraternity in college.  After we finished our round, he asked if I would accompany him to a restaurant a couple blocks away on the Hudson River.

While we walked, JesusLuvr69 did something I was taken aback by… Every time we crossed the street, he moved to the side of me that was facing oncoming traffic.  We passed a sprinkler and he blocked me with his body so that he would get wet instead of me.  At one point we crossed what appeared to be a one-way street, and when he saw that it wasn’t, he apologized for crossing on the wrong side of me.  Now I’ve had guys pull out chairs and open doors for me before, but I’ve never had someone shield me from the perils of moving vehicles.  I wanted to remind him that I’m an adult living in New York City and I’m well-accustomed to crossing streets, but I didn’t want to be a jerk.  We got to the riverside spot and he ordered beers and some chicken fingers.  I have to admit, it was a lovely evening to be eating chicken down by the river.  JesusLuvr69 was very nice, but a little slow.  I had to explain things to him a few times before they would register.  He worked in sales (selling Virgin Mary figurines and patriotic Croc knock-offs to Dollar Stores, as I mentioned in my last post) but kept referring to his job as “working in fashion.”

After we finished our fingers, he asked if he could take me to one more place.  We walked a few more blocks to the entrance of some stuffy-looking hotel on the river, then took an elevator up to the sixteenth floor and walked out into an incredible rooftop lounge.  The bar itself was large, dark, and full of rich people.  Looking at the menu, I was glad I was there with an old-fashioned gentleman who was going to pay for my drinks.  A Brooklyn Lager alone was $11.  I had some gin concoction that was $16.  We took our drinks out on the deck by a little reflecting pool and looked out over the best view of Manhattan I think I’ve ever seen.  We talked about our families, how he had been in the military briefly, and how it may be a deal-breaker for him that I’ve never seen “Top Gun.”  Around this time, another guy I had had tentative plans with for sometime this week began texting me to meet up.  JesusLuvr69 had to work in the morning and told me he needed to head home in a bit, so I secretly agreed to meet “Ralph” in an hour.

I let JesusLuvr69 touch my hand for 30 seconds while we finished our drinks (I’m about as willing to hold hands as I am to talk on the phone).  I told him I was going to take the train back to Brooklyn and he said he would walk me to the stop.  Then he changed his mind and informed me that he was going to buy me a cab home since I must be tired from all the walking.  I tried to tell him I’m capable of walking (mainly because I felt guilty I was going to go meet someone else) but he wouldn’t hear of it.  He hailed a cab and handed the driver a twenty, instructing him to take me to Brooklyn.  Then he pulled me in for a dainty Christian kiss.  Once the cab pulled away, I told the driver to drop me at Ludlow and Rivington.  Upon arrival, he tried to charge me $13 for the ride (as if I didn’t see JesusLuvr69 hand him $20), to which I responded with “Nice try, buddy.  Go ahead and keep the change.”  I have the worst luck with cab drivers.

Ralph was already at the bar.  He was much cuter in person than he was online (he kinda looked like a snarky gargoyle in his pictures).  He was tall and dark and had good taste in music and even better taste in movies.  No, I have never seen “Top Gun,” but Ralph and I shared a favorite movie in common that no one has ever seen or heard of before unless I forced them to watch it with me.  So he immediately got 50 bonus points in my book for that.  I don’t really remember much of our conversation.  It was pretty brief since he had to drive back to Jersey where he lives (minus 30 points) and because my gin concoction had been pretty strong.  I walked him to his car and on the way got distracted by a box of street books.  I love street books.  I selected a book, I think we hugged goodbye, then I acquired a beef frank and walked to the train.  The F wasn’t running at 2nd Ave, so I walked and walked and walked around the East Village until the clock struck one and my paycheck went into my bank account.  Then I took a cab home, exhausted from having easily walked 50+ blocks total that evening, but titillated by my new book about grammar.  It’s old and falling apart, and there’s a line of books with noses doing a kick-line on the cover.  A lot of guys on OKCupid could benefit from some grammar lessons.

As for my dates last night, JesusLuvr69 was a nice guy, but his uber-chivalry and affinity for voice mails kind of weirded me out.  I also had to explain things multiple times to him and I don’t think he really got my humor.  Ralph was cool, but it sucks he lives in Poopville, New Jersey and doesn’t come into the city that much.  I would hang out with him again, though.  Especially because (I almost forgot the best part!)… he brought me a KEYCHAIN!  It has been awhile since my last keychain offering, and this one might be my favorite so far.  It’s sparkly and opens to reveal a mirror inside.  He had gone to LA when we first started chatting on OKCupid, and decided to bring me back a keychain after I expressed my adoration for them.  Instant second date material.  Sometimes all it takes is a glittery keychain and a vintage book about grammar to feel like the richest lady of them all.

Men Who Leave Voice Mails

23 Aug

It sucks when you give someone from OKCupid your number, then later, upon closer revision of their profile, find them to be a total Jesus freak.  What is even more disenchanting is when they call you and leave you multiple voice mails when you haven’t even met.  I hate hate talking on the phone.  And voice mails are almost enough to shake me into a reunion with my old frenemy, Prozac.  So when JesusLuvr69 (as he is saved in my phone) called me and left me not one, but TWO voice mails, I was ready to change my number.  No one from OKCupid has ever called and left me voice mails until just recently.  What gives?

Earlier in the week, a different man got fresh with my voice mail.  “Ben” said he was 35 in his profile, but looked more like 45 in his pictures.  He had on a dad outfit in one picture and was pretending to steer a ship wheel with one hand tied behind his back.  Why would I agree to meet this man you ask?  I guess you could say I’ve really thrown in the towel at this point.

We met at a Belgian beer bar that I selected because it’s close to my work and dark as can be.  Ben called and left me a voice mail saying he was running late, which I absolutely did not respond to.  He arrived wearing a bright plaid shirt, bright jeans, and enough hair product to cause concern about the proximity between the candle on the table and his shiny head.  It turns out I didn’t have to worry about that, because once we started talking, Ben kept blowing the candle out with his unruly consonants and nose-laugh.  I also noticed that it looked like a medium-sized monster had taken a bite out of each of his ears.

He told me (in New Jersey dialect) that he worked at a bank or a real estate office or something, yet revealed his true passion is performing.  He’d never taken an acting class, but loved doing improv.  “Oh yeah?” I said with feigned interest, in the same tone of voice men from the internet use after I tell them I work in retail.  I soon forgave him for his theatrical desires after he said he didn’t do yoga because he was too scared he’d break wind in front of cute girls.  I’m a big fan of fart jokes and you already know how I feel about straight men who do yoga.  He got really excited when I told him I’ve been working on a children’s book and shared that he and his friends wrote a children’s book once about skateboarding aliens.   We then got into an engaging discussion about our opinions on improv, pigs in a blanket, and dating websites.  I was allegedly his first OKCupid date, but he had been on Match and eHarmony in the past, to no avail.  I told him my theory that nobody on OKCupid uses the website to find a relationship– but rather for one night stands and rebounds (and blogs).  Ben told me he disagrees and knows a lot of people who found their significant other on OKCupid.  Are these people real?  Do they live in New York City?  I’m skeptical.

After another couple rounds of Belgian beer I couldn’t pronounce, Ben got up to use the restroom and told me to close his tab.  The server came over and asked for the name on the credit card.  “I actually have no idea what his name is” I said, feeling a little like a terrible person.  The server laughed, saying “We get a lot of those.”  He came back, paid, and walked me to the train– calling me “Baby” and “Dear” the whole way.  “I’ll call you!” He said as we parted ways.  I bet you will… and I bet you will leave me a voice mail.

Oh god, JesusLuvr69 just texted me saying to meet him at the Empire State Building tonight at seven.  He sells items like Jesus candles, plaster turtle ashtrays, and mousetrap 3-packs to Dollar Stores.  I may go meet him, even if he does believe in the power of prayer.  My current activity– online shopping for the perfect cowboy silhouette lampshade is getting a little redundant.  I have a very specific one in mind…

Suitors of the Week 5

20 Aug

It’s time for me to open up my inbox and share with you a selection of special messages I’ve received recently:

1.  This guy looked like a male Snow White.  Under “My Self-Summary” he put “I enjoy road trips to insane and unlikely places such as abandoned asylums.”

ME:  “What’re you up to today?”

HIM:  “The usual.  Funeral arrangements followed by an evening spent with sapiens I haven’t seen in a dog’s age.”  (Excuse me?)


2.  I was supposed to meet this guy, but canceled on him twice due to two different friends’ birthdays.  These messages transpired after the second cancelation.  The best way I can describe him is a weasel dipped in oil.

HIM:  “Wanna go to a Jackson 5 concert tonihgt? No Michael of coarse lol  ;)”  (Who’s #5 now?  Blanket?)

ME:  “Can’t sorry.  You probably won’t believe this, but I have to go to a birthday party tonight.”

HIM:  “U would def have more fun at the Jackson 5 concert ;) ;)”

HIM:  (Five days later)  “So, I’d invite u to hang but u prolly have a brithday to go to…”  (What can I say, a lot of my friends were born in August.)


3.  A guy who obviously finds himself to be a real hoot messaged me a few days ago.  In his picture he is pulling himself out of some kind of sea with only his arms, like a mighty mer-man.  Here’s a little sampling of his profile:

My Self-Summary:  “Your ab exercises just got easier. You’ll laugh your ass off at me!”  (Fact: People who tell me how funny they are generally aren’t that funny.)

On a typical Friday night I am:  “Spending time with my parents.  They deserve it.”

The Most Private Thing I’m Willing to Admit:  “Stamps in passport > years I’ve been alive.”   (Is that really a private fact, or did you just need to find a spot on the page to brag about how well-traveled you are?)

Here’s what he messaged me:

HIM:  You seem like a really fun girl, but I feel like there’s a whole other side of you that you’d never reveal here…

ME:  And what side might that be?

HIM:  You’re actually a huge nerd at heart. I mean words like pantomime and Sriracha…stupider people may think pantomime is a form of unflattering underwear and Sriracha is some sort of place in Spain. Am I right Steve Urkel?

ME: (Doesn’t respond, just throws my laptop off a building.)


4.  I immediately ruled this guy out when he messaged me because his profile picture was a headshot.  I’m terribly sorry, but if you are an actor I most likely will not respond to you.  It’s not you, it’s me (sort of).  I spent a great majority of my life doing theatre/actors, and as the man at the deli by my work would say, “Eee’s no good!”  Here is a sampling of the actor’s profile:

The Most Private Thing I’m Willing to Admit:  “I had to wear an eye patch for a year.”  (What’s with guys on OKCupid being former eye-patch wearers?  This is the third I’ve encountered.  Do they mention it because they think girls like pirates?  Or was their corrective surgery that much of a milestone?)

Favorite Books, Movies, Shows, Music, etc:  “I don’t really read books, but my favorite play is “The Odd Couple” by Neil Simon.”  (Ladies and gentleman, here you have reason number 1,309 why I don’t date actors.  If you are an thespian, his choice of play will be even more amusing to you.  Actor joke.)

What I’m Doing With My Life:  “I’ve currently put my acting career on hold to work at CVS.”  (Aaaand here’s reason number 1,310.)


All I want is a tall, funny man who will take me to Pizzeria Uno.  Is that asking too much?!

Another Creepy Artist

19 Aug

The three or four guys from OKCupid that I have actually gone out with more than once generally followed the same pattern.  We meet, hit it off, hang out a few more times, maybe hook up, then they suddenly become really busy, or don’t text me as often, or we stop hanging out all together.  I go back and forth between thinking:

1) It’s not OK that he only texts me when I contact him first/only wants to hang out with me on his timetable which is only about once a month/he’s probably just using me/stop being an idiot and take him out of your phone!

2) It’s cool, man…maybe things will change and he’ll want to hang out more at some point…he’s a guy and he doesn’t think about things the same way I do…he’s busier than I am…and why would he spend time with me at all if he didn’t like me?  (Wait, don’t answer that.)

Surprisingly, I went out again with Jimmy a few weeks ago.  He had stopped talking to me for a couple months, but resurfaced after reading the post I wrote about him.  We agreed to meet for drinks at Art Bar one night after I got out of work.  He was late and while I waited, an incredibly strange individual started talking to me.  I guess I opened up the lines of communication between myself and this man by asking if the seat next to him at the bar was taken.  He looked to be in his late 40s and had on an old suit, a bowler hat, and huge headphones that were connected to a small DVD player which he had situated in front of him on the bar.  I glanced at the screen and it was footage of him walking all over New York City– but he was holding the camera, so you only saw him when he stopped in front of windows to capture his reflection.  The cars, people, buildings, and everything else in the background were sped up with some trippy setting that made the lights and colors flash and pulsate around him.

Once I sat down there was no turning back…he would not stop talking to me, mostly about what is wrong with society today.  His voice sounded exactly like the Cary Grant-esque voice Tony Curtis used in “Some Like it Hot.”  He told me he was a visual artist and spent most of his days stalking the owners and curators of famous art galleries, trying to get an “in” for his work.  Subsequently, he had been black-listed from several galleries.  Something about him struck me as not-quite-all-there, and I texted Jimmy to hurry up and get there.  I told the man where I worked and said he would love for me to come over to his apartment and help him sort through thousands of photographs he had taken, dating back to the eighties.  He wanted me to tell him which pieces were by the designer I work for so he could put them all together and present it to him.  Oh god.  Jimmy finally arrived as the strange man began showing me the video of himself walking around, which allegedly went on for hours and hours.  Jimmy was still wearing the garb from the soccer game he had come from and he shot the guy dirty looks when he continued to talk to me even though my “date” had arrived.  Things got awkward when the man tried to shake Jimmy’s hand and he refused, so I suggested we go to another bar.  On our way out, the man stopped me to give me his card and a CD of instrumental music he had apparently made.  I felt bad for him and had had a few glasses of wine, so I gave him one of my email addresses- which he emailed three times that very night.

The rest of the night with Jimmy was uneventful.  I asked him why he had been absent for months then decided to go out with me again after reading my blog post (in which I lovingly refer to him as a sex addict).  He shared that he had been seeing someone and it was getting kind of serious, but he was pretty sure he was “over it.”  I asked if he met her on OKCupid and he said yes, he had met her before he met me and had been seeing her the whole time.  Well, that explains a lot.  I went back to his place with him, only because I was too tired to trek all the way back to Brooklyn.  Once there, I immediately fell asleep.  I woke up while it was still dark out and stopped at McDonald’s for a smoothie (witnessing a tranny hooker oatmeal argument in the process) before getting a cab back to Brooklyn.

I haven’t seen Jimmy since (no big surprise there).  However, I did have another sighting of the peculiar guy from Art Bar.  I was enjoying some sushi a couple days ago when a man walked in, sat down, and began singing loudly to whatever music was coming out of his gigantic headphones.  I looked up to glare at him and was horrified to see who it was.  He had on the same suit, complete with bowler cap and extremely loud voice.  There was only one other sushi patron aside from us, but he yelled across the whole restaurant for iced green tea and low-sodium soy sauce.  When he got his soy sauce, he scooped a dollop of wasabi into the sauce dish and hammered it loudly with his chopsticks.  At one point, he started making wet hacking noises like a cat dealing with a pesky hair-ball.  I could feel him staring at me, trying to place where he knew me from, so I downed my sushi faster than I knew was possible.  As I was signing my bill, he pulled out the same DVD player and put on the same DVD he had been watching at Art Bar, months earlier.  I guess he just sits around every day in various establishments watching a video of himself walking around.  I prayed he wouldn’t say anything to me as I passed him on my way to the door.  Not three strides from the door he loudly bellowed “Excuse me!” and my stomach sunk.  The rest of his sentence, “Could I please have another green tea!” came and I safely exited the restaurant and made it back to work without incident.

I’ll never know if the creepy artist recognized me that day or not.  What I do know is that I never answered his emails, and his CD ended up in the mailbox belonging to the drug den in my neighborhood.  I hope they enjoyed his jams.

I know I keep saying this, but this time I mean it.  I seriously need to be more selective about who I give my phone number/email address to.  Like, maybe not a 48-year-old artist with Asperger’s and a portable DVD player.

Hey, at least this one didn’t paint with his ballsack.

Just Your Average Thursday

18 Aug

Thursday night began with a couple of Australians in matching loafers and ended with a lonely lesbian in a cape.

Out for another friend’s birthday, a group of us found ourselves at Off the Wagon in the West Village.  The minute we received our pitcher of beer, two Australian guys helped themselves to our table.  They were in town for the week visiting, and were eager to pick up some American girls.  One of them kept waiving his pointer finger at our stomachs and asking if he could play the “Can I Touch Your Bellybutton” game with us.  I informed him that there was no chance he would get laid in the USA if he kept attempting to stick his finger in stranger’s bellybuttons.  His response was “Hmm, it worked in Munich.”  The other guy kept leaning in really close to me and talking about ‘roos.  The ins and outs of the lives of marsupials is ALWAYS a topic I will entertain.  I told him I recently watched an enriching video about joeys.  When they are born, they come out looking like a tiny pink slug, then slowly inch their way up the fur and into their mother’s pouch to finish developing.  No one at the table seemed moved by the miracle of joeys.

A popular dance song came on and both of the Aussies began a little two-step.  It was then that I noticed they were wearing the same ugly loafers– one in brown, the other in black.  I took a picture to commemorate their dad-shoes, pretending not to be making fun of them.

It was time for us to journey on to a bar in Brooklyn, so our evening with the Australians had come to an end.  We went to a bar in Greenpoint where a friend was DJing, and later I stopped at No Name on the way to the train to see if Noodle Man was there.  Sadly he wasn’t, but an Asian girl with slurred speech and a flowing cape bought me a beer.  She told me she was in town visiting her girlfriend, but hadn’t been able to locate her yet.  Wuh oh.  When she put her arm around me I finished my beer, wished her luck, and went home.

My phone had died earlier and when I got home and plugged it in I had received about a hundred texts from some OKCupid guy.  He had been soaking in a tub whilst texting me and was giving me play-by-play updates of his hot bath, ie: “In the bath with a good book.  No bubbles though,” “Now I’m out of the bath, toweling off,” “Fully clothed now, feeling very relaxed ;).”  He asked if he could take me out on a boat on the Hudson sometime this week.  “I’d be delighted” I texted back with one hand, the other occupied by the family-sized baguette I was cuddling.  This guy kinda sounds like a handful– I wasn’t answering any of his texts because my phone was off and he still felt the need to narrate every second of his bubble-less bath to me.

I do really like boats, though…

The Best Pasta I Never Had

15 Aug

Try as I might, I continue to find myself in mystifying situations.  Like on a rooftop at 2 am with someone named “Lil Tony.”

Every time I go to No Name Bar things get wacky.  The first time I went there (last year), I made out with Tiny Tim in a dark corner and one of us may or may not have peed in a bucket in the supply closet.  Another time, there was a group of people tripping on some form of hallucinogenic drug, dancing in slow motion with a hundred balloons.  I was there with a friend, and at one point we looked over to find that everybody had left except for one lone girl, who was simultaneously humping a cluster of balloons and playing them like a saxophone.

Two nights ago, a large group of people went to No Name to celebrate my friend’s birthday.  Things were going smoothly until someone clogged the toilet in the bathroom (next to the bar) and it overflowed, spilling out into the bar area.  Several cans of silly string materialized, and found their way into a few naughty hands.  Soon, there was silly string floating atop the toilet water and hanging from the rafters.  A tall, floppy man who looked like a cute baby dinosaur grabbed a can of silly string and sprayed his disgruntled bald friend with it until he had a foamy toupee.  He lost aim and a clump whizzed past the DJ and stuck to the wall in his booth.  The DJ slowly turned his apathetic head to look at the glob, then turned to us and mumbled “Not by the records, man.”  Later on, I encountered the floppy guy again when he danced past my booth like a wet noodle to a Joy Division song.  I informed him he looked like a fusilli noodle, and he sat down and told me he wanted me to close my eyes and think about the best pasta I’ve ever had– then join him for a dance.  Now that’s a pick up line.  It turned out he was a chef, and he showed me a bunch of photos of his gourmet dishes.  Then he showed me a picture of a penis sculpture he had made out of beets.

Around this point in the evening, one of my friends had taken most of his clothes off and was dancing like a maniac in the middle of several horrified strangers whilst comparing his body to “rotting tripe” (he is also on OKCupid, ladies).  Another friend I was there with had finally struck up the nerve to talk to a boy she had been eyeing, whom the rest of the group collectively agreed was a babe.  As the party began to dissipate, Noodle Man suggested that I bring my female friend and the guy she had picked up (whose name turned out to be Lil Tony) over to his place to check out his rooftop.  I had to work in the morning, but it was only a few blocks away.  The view of the Manhattan skyline was impressive, and Lil Tony shared a bunch of fun facts about the Empire State Building, including various blimp-landings.  Lil Tony loved blimps.  When the clock struck two, I declared it time for me to call for a car to take me home.  Noodle Man walked me out while Lil Tony attempted to seal the deal with my friend on the couch.  Sitting outside on the stoop, Noodle Man wasted no time enveloping me in a floppy embrace.  I was sleepy and he smelled like pickles, but I let him kiss me because he was funny and danced like a noodle.  I got home covered in dirt from the roof, but pleased that I had handled my exit with grace and ease.

I am not the kind of girl who likes to go dancing in da clubs.  In fact, I strongly dislike it.   And guys who are good dancers make me think about “Glee,” which has to be one of the least sexy things ever.  For me, it’s not how well you move, but what you move like– Noodle Man was apparently a pro at both making food AND moving like food.  He gets an A+ in my book.

No Means No

6 Aug

Tonight I went on a blind date with a bald Israeli.  Usually when I’m not looking forward to a date, I end up being pleasantly surprised.  Well, tonight I was unpleasantly not surprised.  The bald Israeli, “Michael,” had been hounding me to meet up since I got back into town last week.  I told him I couldn’t go out until the weekend because I was broke from my trip.  He said that he wanted to meet tonight and that he would buy me a drink (this statement was accompanied by multiple smiley faces).  I acquiesced.  I ended up getting out of work a little early, so I found the place where we had planned to meet in the East Village and waited in the bar across the street.  It was less busy, darker, had Miller Light on draft, and was playing The Beach Boys.  I threw down a few of my sad last dollars in exchange for a beer and texted him saying he could meet me where I was, or else I’d see him at the other place in fifteen minutes.  He said he’d be right there.  While I waited for him, I went through my phone and deleted the numbers of past OKCupid blind dates such as Horse Man, John LispLips, Nic Balls, Brian MurderGloves, Street MeatMan, Cowboy Bebop, and Yuck City.  Just kidding, I kept Yuck City because I really want to text it to figure out who I saved under that name.

When Michael showed up, I recognized him right away– and instantly noted that he had exaggerated his height online.  He was at least two inches shorter than he had claimed, and was wearing man capris, flip flops, and a Pac Sun shirt.  He was indeed bald, with dark features and a thick Israeli accent.  He ordered a Brooklyn Lager and we began an extraordinarily awkward conversation.  I felt like I was conducting an interview because he would only speak if I prompted him with a question.  His answers were bland and generic, and I pretended he followed them with “And how about you?” to keep the conversation going.  Although he hardly spoke, he did do a large amount of staring.  I could feel him staring at me even when I wasn’t looking at him.  I finished the beer I had ordered before he got there and the bartender asked if I wanted another.  He had barely started his first beer, so I said yes.  Michael made no effort to get out his wallet, even though he had talked me into going out by offering to buy me a drink– so I paid for a second beer and silently hurled curse words at him in my mind.

He finally asked me his first question of the night: would I like to come up to his apartment for a tour?  He said his place was small, but he really wanted to “show me around.”  We had not even known each other a full hour.  I told him I have a rule that prohibits me from going to guy’s apartments the first night I meet them.  He would not take no for an answer… And that is putting it nicely.  I was shocked by how pushy he was being when he had been so quiet throughout our captivating thirty-minute conversation.  He said he was done with his beer (he hadn’t even finished it) and we went outside so he could smoke.  I had to tell him ten more times I wasn’t going to his apartment, so he suggested we take a walk together.  I said we could walk in the direction of the L train.  He announced he was going to continue to attempt to change my mind and asked me why didn’t I want to be spontaneous and break the rules?  Unfortunately, the door to his building was on the way to the L, and when we got to it, he tried a final time to get me to go up.  At this point, I was totally uncomfortable and disgusted by him.  I said I was going home to make dinner and he told me that sounded boring.  Yeah, OK.  I reached my hand out to shake his and he not only pulled me in for a hug, but swooped his face into mine and attempted to thrust his tongue into my mouth.  GROSS.  I pulled away as fast as I could and took off toward the train.  By the time I got back to Brooklyn, I had received a text from Michael that said “Hmmm…you should have stayed :-)”

In my 27 years on Earth, I have certainly encountered some aggressive guys who assume girls are going to put out on the first date.  What I don’t get is how this guy could be so closed-off and insipid, then turn around and be shocked I wouldn’t go back to his place and sleep with him after our “date” lasted less than an hour!  At least step up your game and fake some sort of personality if you’re that desperate.  I hate to think about how well he would take “No” for an answer once some naive OKCupid girl actually does go up to his apartment for a “tour.”  Major frown-y face.

What’s in the Tackle Box?

4 Aug

Two weeks ago, I arranged a blind date with a guy who seemed pretty nerdy, but had piqued my interest with a couple funny messages.  Without thinking, I agreed to meet him in Prospect Heights after I got out of work in the West Village.  Not only is that area no where near where I live in Brooklyn, it is not convenient to get to by any train in close proximity to my job.  As if his inconvenient choice of bar didn’t cloud my outlook on this date enough already… I nearly canceled after perusing his profile once more to learn he was younger than I and looked like he was missing a finger or two in one of his pictures.  I decided to suck it up and begrudgingly headed towards the bar we were meeting at in Prospect Heights after work.  Once above ground, I walked several blocks in the pouring rain, without an umbrella.  By the time I got to the bar, I was soaked and looked a mess.  “Joe” arrived a few minutes later, as nerdy in person as I had gathered he would be from his profile.  He had dark brown hair, a hearty helping of lips, a slouched posture, and all of his fingers.  He was incredibly awkward from the beginning and kept saying “You can leave if you want…” which made me wonder if he was hoping I would take him up on the offer.

The bar ended up being right up my alley (dark, classic rock, beef franks).  Actually the menu was the best part- it featured options such as “Dad’s Sausage Pizza”, “Frankfuhrer”, “Mozzarella Sandbitch”, and “Fist Tacos”.  I don’t think I would have found that as funny if I hadn’t consumed two monstrous brews on an empty stomach.  While ordering my beef frank, I momentarily lost control of my extremities and stabbed myself in the face with the menu.  Unfortunately, it was not the last of my injuries that evening.  Later, the lock on the bathroom sliced open my finger and I spent the last twenty minutes of our date bleeding.  Since I was already on a roll, I decided to completely let down my guard with Joe to loosen him up.  He talked about doing real estate things, how he was in a band, and how I should totally audition for it.  He asked what my sign was and, when I told him Scorpio, he said he needed to go lie down.  I called him out on his deception when answering the astrology question on OKCupid with “Virgo, but it doesn’t matter.”  It seemed like he was flirting with me, but then again he was very strange, so I wasn’t sure.  He had a dry sense of humor that worked well with mine, and I spent a good amount of the night laughing.

Leaving the bar, I hinted that it would be nice if he could at least give me a ride to the train stop (it was late, still raining, he hadn’t paid for any drinks, and his car was parked out front).  Thankfully, he got the message and dropped me off at home.  I thanked him for a lovely evening and told him to send me his band’s music so I could check it out.  He sent it to me later that night, but I was wrapped up with preparing to go out of town, so I forgot to email him back about it.  A few days later I received this email from him:

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you are pretty fucking cool.  I just don’t think I am manly enough to go out with you.  I just felt kinda weird not getting in touch with someone after I had a good time with them, even if I don’t think I am manly enough to continue to see them.  I do not believe any reply is required on your part in this case, unless you think I am in fact manly enough, and I should continue to pursue you in a certain way, or just try to get into your pants, which is a pigheaded notion.  Anyway, I hope you enjoyed those silly songs I sent you, and hope you find a nice muscly dude in brooklyn with big arms and 5 or 6 tackle boxes that makes you happy.”

The funny thing is, I actually did enjoy his band’s music.  And he had definitely made me laugh- a rarity amongst OKCupid guys (I’ve certainly honed my fake-laughing prowess thanks to my experience in online dating).  I don’t think I’ve dated a “muscly dude” in my entire life, so I don’t know where that came from.  The tackle boxes on the other hand… I ONLY date men who own at least five tackle boxes.  This guy clearly didn’t cut it in the tackle box category, so he’s going to have to move right along.  As for me?  I will continue to surge forth in search of the man with the best and brightest bait in his box.

The Boston Years Part 2

3 Aug

One night, I went to see some odd band at Bill’s Bar with a friend and the guy she was dating.  The band wasn’t my scene and my friend and I got separated in the crowd, so I headed towards the bar.  I selected the most attractive guy standing at the bar and sneaked my way in next to him.  Normally I would’ve just smiled, purchased my drink, and moved on… but this particular evening I was feeling ambitious.  I told him I had decided that he was the most attractive guy there, to which he responded by paying for my drink.  Bear in mind that now, in my old age of 27, nary am I that bold.  We shared another drink and the next thing I know we are balancing on a toilet, making out in the women’s restroom.  As things began to get as serious as they can be in a public restroom, suddenly I heard a loud male voice, shouting and banging on the stall door.  It was the bouncer, who had caught on to our antics and was kicking us out of the venue.  I threw my sweater back on before being aggressively escorted to the front door.  The bouncer asked for both of our IDs and I handed him my passport (I had lost my driver’s license earlier that month).  He photo-copied it and added it to a “Do Not Let In” list on the back wall of the ticket booth.  As I parted ways with the guy from the bar, I took his New York Yankees hat off his head and put it on (I never was a big Red Sox fan).  He told me we would have to hang out again so he could get it back.  The next day, I woke up with a new hat on my pillow and a friend request on Facebook.  It took me a few photos to figure out it was the guy from the night before- It had been dark and drunk.  I guess he took note of  my name while my passport photo was being plastered to the wall.  Needless to say, I never went to Bill’s Bar again and mystery man never got his hat back (sorry!).


A few months later, out again with my poor friend from school, I happened upon a guy who looked like he could’ve been the brother of my high school boyfriend.  They even had the same last name, it was weird.  He had a funny little sidekick with him that my friend spent the evening talking to while I was getting to know “Nathan”.  After the bar closed, Nathan suggested we all go back to their place to have another drink.  My friend wanted to go home, but I begged her to come with me because I didn’t want to go alone.  Once there, Nathan and I retired to his bedchambers while my friend was irritated with me in the living room.  We exchanged numbers and got together a few times after that.  The only things I can remember about him are that he was extremely attractive (he seriously could have been a model) and that he would booty-call me every other weekend or so.  Eventually we stopped texting each other and I started dating someone.  Several months later, I moved from an apartment in Allston to a new place in Brighton.  One day, I noticed my new next door neighbor coming out of his building at the same time I was leaving mine so I smiled and said “Hello”.  The neighbor turned and a look of horror came over his face.  It took me a minute to place who he was (I ran out of contacts back in ’07 and never bought more)… it was Nathan.  He must have just moved in as well.  A girl came skipping out of the building after him and he embraced her, hurrying her away.  Later that day I got a text from Nathan that read: “My girlfriend is really jealous.  Act like you don’t know me if we run into each other again.”  I never dreamed as a little girl, that by the time I was in my early twenties, I would have the opportunity to play the role of “The Other Woman” so many times.