Tag Archives: Subway

My Urban Cowboy – W4M

25 Aug

YOU:  An aging gentleman in leather chaps, a beaded leather cowboy hat, and a string of white seashells dangling from your jowls.  Your shirt was unbuttoned to reveal just enough of the dark, cavernous world of your innie belly button to leave me wanting more.  Your salt and peppery mustache enveloped the nozzle of your bottle of Diet Sprite and your wide stance betrayed the secret that you had recently dismounted your steed only to board the Brooklyn-bound L train.

ME:  Younger white girl in a Rosie O’Donnell-esque tunic and a questionable boot, who was breaking a considerable sweat carrying a humongous mural of the Grand Canyon.  As I maneuvered onto the train, our eyes met– the only part of me you ever saw since the Grand Canyon was covering the rest of my body as well as the bodies of the two disgruntled strangers seated to my right.

US:  The electricity that vibrated throughout that fateful caboose cannot be denied and I shall not sleep until we share our tales of the dusty trails over a bottle of sarsaparilla.  Godspeed, elusive cowpoke. I’ll be waiting.


Watch Your Step!

15 Apr

I have been known to give my phone number out too easily to strangers.  Sometimes I get texts from people and I have no idea who they are or when/why I gave them my number in the first place.  A couple weeks ago, a persistent fellow named “Nate” began barraging me with text messages.  I also have been known to be a frequent sender of text messages (to put it mildly) so I made a mental note to cool it, because sending someone a million texts is not cute.  Nate was texting me about when we could go out, what he was doing at work that day, what I was doing at work that day, how excited he was to meet me, etc.  He needed to join Emoticon Abusers Anonymous.  I’m not saying that I have never done it, but for some reason a straight guy sending me dozens of smiley winking faces turns me right off!  I eventually agreed to meet him for drinks after work one day and his response was “See u then!!  I’ll be the 300lb black man sitting at the bar ;-).”  Uh oh.

The first bar we went to was a hip dive in the East Village that I had been to once before.  It was pretty warm inside and when I arrived, Nate was downing a Brooklyn Lager and sweating profusely.  I’d like to take this opportunity to note that the 300lb black man bit had been his attempt at a joke.  He was cute albeit on the chubby side, and had squeezed himself into a pair of skinny jeans (which he kept tugging up his shanks) paired with a hearty helping of chest hair and a pointy-toed cowboy boot.  To be fair, I was looking a little homeless that night.  I had been running late for work that morning because I set off the smoke alarm whilst frying eggs in the nude, and when I ran out the door, I had grabbed a men’s flannel and a pair of boots that the soles were falling off of.  Anyway, upon sitting down, Nate immediately handed me a shot of Jameson and all my reservations went out the window.  Maybe OkCupid WAS right about our 93% match potential!

After a round of beers, he suggested we head to the hookah bar across the street.  I had been wanting to go to a hookah bar since I moved to NY (I used to frequent them as a youth in the midwest), so I was stoked.  I forget what the place was called, but it was dark and intimate, with candles placed in holes in the walls.  We split a gigantic pitcher of sangria and a hookah, and I taught him how to blow smoke rings.  For the next hour, he ruminated about how he believes death is a beautiful thing.  He shared with me that a member of his family had recently passed away in India, and all of the men in the family had traveled there to pay tribute.  He spoke about how Indian traditions surrounding the death of a loved one allowed him to properly go through the cycle of grieving.  After that, he told me about a fatal car crash that he recently witnessed outside his apartment, and then about how he used to work for a suicide hotline, where he received a large quantity of sexually-themed prank calls.  He said it must be more dangerous for women on OkCupid to go out with strangers, because you never know when one of them is going to kidnap and kill you.  Once the death chat had concluded, he told me that he really liked me and invited me to accompany him to a shooting range a few days later.  I had enjoyed our evening together, but was pretty certain that I was not interested in handling firearms with this guy.

Leaving the hookah place, we both walked toward the L train en route to Brooklyn.  Nate had apparently enjoyed a little too much sangria because he caught one of his pointy-toed cowboy boots on a pothole outside the train station and went flailing into the middle of the street.  Walking through the tunnels underground, we were chatting when all of a sudden I noticed he was gone.  I looked back and he had tripped again and fallen (fully on the ground this time) and was splayed out like a potato pancake.  He got up, adjusted his stretch-pants and stammered “How embarrassing…”  To assuage the awkward situation, I joked about how someone had cut out and played Pin the Tail on the Donkey with the goatees on the movie poster for “Think Like a Man.”  When we arrived at the Lorimer stop, he blatantly popped a mint for the make-out session that would never be.  We hugged goodbye and he held me for a tad longer than was appreciated.  I bee-lined it to the G train, finally able to have a brief giggle over Nate’s substantial spills.

Although he doesn’t fear death, Nate should still keep an eye out for those pesky uneven surfaces.  Or at least wait until he’s not on a blind date to take his pointy-toed shoes out for a spin.