Tag Archives: Bushwick

The Veterinarian

13 Jul

There is a restaurant in my neighborhood that has good burgers and a cute bartender whom I like to look at while I eat.

One evening, I was enjoying some dinner and the view, when a pair of late 30-somethings started to get a little rowdy next to me.  I looked over to see what all the commotion was about and saw one of them holding up an image of Alf dressed as an asparagus.  The skinnier of the two noticed me eyeing their altercation and included me in the conversation.  I had no information to offer on the Alf topic… but received some unfortunate information on the cute bartender topic: it turned out they were his friends and he had a serious girlfriend of nine years.

The larger man left shortly thereafter and I stayed to chat with the skinny one.  He never smiled and pretty much only had one facial expression– a puzzled look with slightly crossed eyes.  He was dressed like a cast member from Roseanne and looked remarkably like a young Bob Saget.  He had glasses, a prominent nose, and hair that looked like amber waves of grain– like you could pull a fistful of it and it would break off into a million pieces and blow away down a sunny hillside.  “Peter,” as we’ll call him, was thirty-nine, worked at another bar in Bushwick, and dreamed of being a veterinarian.  But not an actual veterinarian, oh no.  He wanted to PLAY a veterinarian in a small role on a TV show or commercial.  He went on and on about how much he loved acting and wanted to make a full career out of it even though he had never taken an acting class, or been in a play, or done anything except stand in a sea of extras in one shot for an episode of some TV show.  When he learned that I went to school for theatre he asked if I wanted to take turns filming each other doing three contemporary monologues each.  I told him I’ve been out of the loop for a couple years and am thus unfamiliar with the current veterinarian repertoire.

I ran into Peter around my neighborhood multiple times after that.  He always talked nonstop about himself and his “acting career” and never asked me anything about my life.  Come to think of it I’m not sure he ever even knew my name.  He also sent me constant text updates like “almost had a line on set today, but they gave it to someone else,” and “just submitted my headshot to play another veterinarian.  Keep your fingers crossed.”  His headshot, by the way, was a selfie he had taken of himself wearing a lab coat and looking confused.  He stayed over at my place once (don’t recall how that happened) and kept trying to kiss me, but I was too weirded out by him so I moved to the extreme edge of my bed and barricaded myself with a fortress of pillows.  The next morning I woke up at 6 a.m. and shrieked about how I had to go into town right away, like we lived in rural Mississippi in the early 1900s.

The next time I saw him after that, he was displeased with me.  Apparently he had found me on Twitter and seen a tweet where I referred to him as a “Bob Saget impersonator.”  He accused me of flirting with other men at the bar and told me that I don’t take him seriously.  Welllll.  I didn’t realize we had a “thing,” but whatever it was needed to cease and desist, so I stopped responding to him.

The last text I ever got from Peter was: “ever had a grape chia synergy drink?  One just exploded on my shirt and pants while opening it and the chia seeds stuck to my clothes.  Kinda cool.  Gonna leave them on there for awhile.”  I haven’t seen him since, so I’m assuming he got beamed back up to whatever planet he and Alf are from.

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My Month on Tinder

13 May

I finally gave in and tried Tinder for a month last fall.  The first thing I noticed was the incredible amount of insane names on there.  In one sitting alone, I came across a Festus, Yalph, Kamal, Marian, Hewlett, Boswell, Beathan, Riker, and Dumpit.  As much as men named after a prison, a printer, and a female librarian get me going… sadly, none of them appealed to me.  When I did eventually agree to meet someone, I was forced to cancel at the last minute because I was sick.  He said he didn’t mind rescheduling and then immediately sent a second text that read “But I’ve heard that sexting cures the common cold… my ex-girlfriend and I used to do it all the time ;)”  Noooooooo no no no!  Asking me to sext when I’ve never even met you AND hitting me with the ex-girlfriend double-whammy?  Amateur hour.

Without further ado, here are a few brief diary entries on my Tinder dates which, I hate to admit, almost made me miss OKCupid:

1.  The Silent Sound Engineer— Almost canceled on him after he left me not one, but TWO seven-second voicemails of himself heavily breathing.  Ended up meeting him at one of my favorite local bars.  Really cute face, but really shiny bald head– I could see the reflection of the Halloween decorations hanging over us in that head of his.  The date was short-lived after he told me he doesn’t drink because his parents used to force-feed him whiskey as a four year old and he has never gotten over it.  He offered to give me a ride home on his motorcycle and, although I only lived two blocks away, I let him cycle me around my neighborhood for awhile before retiring for the evening.  He was nice but too quiet and serious, so I didn’t respond to his request for a second date.

2.  My Manager’s Sister’s Ex-Boyfriend’s Brother—  Tinder tells you if you have any mutual Facebook friends, so I agreed to meet this man after I noticed that he was friends with my manager.  After a late arrival, he immediately remarked that he was surprised by how tall I am and expected someone shorter based on my pictures.  I asked him if he had even read my profile because I put my height on it, to which he responded by saying he was actually pleasantly surprised and found me very attractive.  He was bald and named after a fish, but his Caribbean accent was pleasing to the ear, so I stuck around for a few drinks before concocting an escape plan.  The next day at work I received a very X-rated text from him and that was the end of that.

3.  The Spanish Executive— I felt bad for making him come to my neighborhood in Brooklyn because he lived on the Upper West Side.  When he arrived, he appeared much older than I had thought and had airplane breath.  Told me right off the bat that he has two ex-wives and a ten-year-old son whom he travels to London to see every other month.  I blurted out “I’m almost thirty and always thought I would have at least one ex-husband by now!” before realizing that probably isn’t a helpful thing to say on a blind date.  He got really excited that I have pretty good Spanish vocabulary and, for the next two weeks after the date, texted me solamente en Español.  The texts started to get a little too racy when he invited me to some upscale French restaurant conveniently located next door to his apartment.  As much as I wanted a free Spanish tutor, the thought of watching someone’s dad slurp mollusks made me very uneasy.

4.  The Nerdy Accountant— This guy actually used to work in accounting for the same company I do (not in accounting) and had been my partner during a store inventory in Boston six years ago.  I couldn’t really remember his face and his Tinder picture looked like his head was floating in an amniotic sac… but I remembered him being funny during that fateful night so many years ago.  I imagined the great story we would have about how we met if it ended up working out.  It did not.  I met him at an over-priced German beer bar full of fools in Williamsburg.  He didn’t offer to pay for any of my drinks even though he had picked the place and even brought up how much more money he made than I.  He seemed a little uptight, smelled like he hadn’t washed his clothes in awhile, and also made a high-pitched whistling sound from his nostrils like an alarming tea kettle.  After he tried to talk to me about money-management and baseball (two things I know nothing about), I countered him with talk of lutes and red herrings and the date ended shortly thereafter.

5.  The Concert-Booking Ticket Guy—  We had a shared interest of one of my favorite bands, so I messaged him lamenting the fact that I had failed to get tickets for their upcoming show before it sold out.  He responded by telling me that he was going out of town that weekend and wanted to give me his tickets for free because I “seem like a good person.”  I never ended up meeting him, but stalked him on Facebook and found out that he is going through a divorce.  The show was awesome and the fact that a stranger would do something so nice for me renewed my faith in Tinder… for a few days.

6.  The Midwestern Architect—  I don’t remember anything about this date other than the fact that he was wearing one of those mock-turtleneck sweaters from LL Bean and he smelled like Miracle Whip.

7.  The Chubby Roadie—  Agreed to meet him because he had one picture of himself wearing a diaper and another of him cradling a koala atop his protruding belly, next to a sweaty goth in Australia.  On the date, he blatantly tried to get me drunk and threw back more shots in the span of an hour than I thought was humanly possible.  I quickly escaped after he made a couple homophobic remarks.  He continued to text me, but luckily got shipped off to Singapore to tune someone’s guitar a few days later so I was able to ease out of that one.

8.  The Creepy Face Paint Man— This guy was allegedly a Buddhist.  He also had very little body hair and would’ve made a great clown.  His profile picture was of him in full face paint and a top hat beaming like a maniac.  I don’t recall much of what we talked about, but he wore a wrist brace and spoke to me in a whisper.  To this day he still sends me Facebook messages once a month inviting me over for “chicken finger night” at his apartment with all of his friends.  That invitation sounds more dangerous than running in front of a speeding bus.  After one particular invite he even followed up with “You missed another fun, tasty evening!”  

In closing, what I learned from my month on Tinder is this:  The rumors are true… PEOPLE GO ON TINDER TO FIND PEOPLE TO HAVE A ONE NIGHT STAND WITH.  Sorry guys, not my thing.