I Just Threw Up a Little

I get allllll kinds of creeps and pervs interested in me. Some of them send nice notes. Others think that we were destined to be together, if I would only realize it.  Sometimes I read the messages, sometimes I’ll even check out their profile and I’m almost never shocked or surprised. Hell, occasionally I’m even flattered.

Until today….

you look absolutely amazing, i know you prob thinking oh this guy is too young, but i was wondering how it would be to spend some time with a person like you :O

I get messages like this fairly regularly and the men are normally in their mid to late 20′s, which is bad enough. So I clicked on his profile…

He’s 19!

An no, it wasn’t Justin Bieber.

A shiver went down my spine as a wave of nausea filled my gut. Did this kid’s mother not give him enough love or what?!

Gross.

Mr. Hearts and Flowers

Been while since I’ve posted because quite frankly, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a legit date. Which brings me to Mr. Hearts and Flowers.

One of those guys that looks great on paper, a sure sign that doom is impending. We exchanged a few messages and then texts and seemed to “hit it off” as much as one can in the cyber world. Since I know nothing means anything until you meet, I simply had hopeful expectations… but not really.

He, on the other hand, started to gush. Immediate red flag in my book. I just kept thinking about Still Married Guy and how he had invited me to Tahoe on vacation before we had ever met. Yeah, we see how well that worked out!

It started innocently where he said he was really excited to meet, he doesn’t usually click so well so fast, how he wants a relationship etc etc etc.

Then he closed his text with emoticons…..of hearts and flowers. 🌺🌻🌸🌹🌷❤💗💛❤💙💜💚😘😘

Oh no you di’int!

I took the approach of pretending it never happened. He says he’s the ultimate romantic. Whereas I am the ultimate cynic…rightfully so I may add. Where my friends were gagging from disgust, I figured I’d cut him slack and hope he doesn’t over do it in person.

We met at my favorite neighborhood place where, I cannot lie, I have been on one or two other dates. Underground cave-like lounge, dimly lit with middle eastern fare and relaxing music. For a moment I thought, shit, if I’m not attracted to him this is such a romantic environment I’m screwed. Oh, and this came about because he asked me to pick where we go (pet peeve of mine, but I digress).

I arrived first and ordered a vodka drink, I needed it. By the time he drove into the city and found a parking spot, I was nearly finished and had a decent buzz. He arrives and I’m pleasantly surprised to see he is much cuter than his photos. And he had a lot of photos. I ask him…

“has anyone ever told that you look like Peter Gallagher?“

“Yes. But I get more people that say Chris Noth.“

And now ladies and gentlemen, the fun begins. He looks JUST like Chris Noth. And who doesn’t want to go out with him?! !  We’re eating, we’re drinking, we’re having fun. Not until late in the evening does he ask if he can hold my hand and then the seduction began. He wanted to kiss me, I wanted to kiss him and what do you know…my apartment is two blocks away.

Next thing you know, we’re making out, he’s telling me crazy personal stories and it’s Still Married Guy all over again. Well, except no crying, he’s not married and didn’t come out and say “I’m not looking for a relationship.” Actually, he came out and said he is looking for a relationship. But all the girls he meets online only want sex. Pretty funny. I take it all with a grain of salt.

Yadda yadda yadda….he left the next day at noon.

He left me with a lot of information to digest. I need to seriously think about the reality of the types of men available out there. They all have issues….and baggage…and problems….and I inevitably want to fix them all. He seems kind and sweet and I’m very attracted to him. But there are a lot of layers on this onion. If I want to pursue, I’m going to need to roll up my sleeves.

My name is date hater and I’m a fixer. Always have been…probably always will be.

Duhhh……

I Kid You Not

When I say psychos, criminals and pervs are the only ones who contact me online…

I’m not kidding!

Happy New Year!

Why You Don’t Shit Where You Eat….and other important life lessons

Was on the train early the other morning in my usual half daze. Somehow managed to squeeze myself into a seat and started to slowly enjoy my steaming hot Starbucks Venti. Most mornings I’m so engaged in my morning ritual of AM NY or Metro, the free newspapers given out by homeless men which satisfy my need for a. a small paper to hold while balancing my purse, coffee and whatever crap I’m dragging into the office b. a quick read of the hot news topics and c. my daily horoscope – but today the near comatose speed baristas killed a solid 10 minutes to make my damn coffee so I had to wiz by the paper boys, only to have to stare at fellow passengers and the Dr. Zizmore skin or teeth ads on the train (I’ve been looking at his ads for years and still not sure exactly what it is he treats).

Two stops in, and a well dressed guy gets on the train or at least moves in front of me…directly in front of me but with his back facing me. I see a portion of his face and I think….shit…..I’m pretty sure….it’s Hurricane Man. Only his hair is grown in (he had randomly shaved a really luxurious head of hair for absolutely no reason). I feel my palms began to sweat and a flush comes over me. I’m patting down my forehead in a panic…..do I say hello? Randomly look off into empty space or try to find an old Con Ed bill in my bag I can fully engross myself into and look engaged for the remainder of this twenty-five minute ride downtown??

Shit, but what if it’s NOT him?! How dumb do I feel then?! But I also don’t want to give him satisfaction of him thinking I’m avoiding him….what to do….what to do…what to….ooops……he got off at 42nd Street. I know he works downtown but maybe he switches trains there…..or…..he saw me and figured he was getting off that train regardless of where it stopped next. Who knows.

I had to confront him….in the most non-confrontational way of course. I sent him an email simply asking him if he was wearing green cords today? As awful as it sounds, this guy (whomever he is) was actually quite dapper and well put together – in spite of or because of the green cords with the snazzy blazer and debonair scarf and stylish carry/bag. And no, I don’t think he was gay….but nothing surprises me – so who knows.

He responds…“No why” and then we went back and forth and I told him which train I saw the guy from afar (lie) on and he responded “I was on that train this morning” to which I replied “that’s why I think it was you.” This went back and forth a few times to the point where he actually seemed unsure if this was in fact him when I finally answered “wouldn’t you know if you were wearing green cords?!”

“How are you? How you been?” and a bunch of other bullshit questions trying to be polite ensued and then I eventually stopped writing. He clearly has or had limited interest in me but the last thing I need is to have someone in Manhattan (no less my neighborhood AND work neighborhood) that I’m trying to avoid.

Because in all my years living here I can say without question……if you try to avoid someone in this city of 8 million….you will without question bump into them.

Dating a guy in your neighborhood has its definite drawbacks.

My Existential Moment in the Back of a NYC Taxicab

I always thought wanting it all and having it all were simply by-products of hard work and determination. What scares me is, now after all these years of life, I’m really wondering if that entire concept actually exists. Or if it is supposed to be a concept we use as a tool to constantly strive for something. Something more…or something else.

For pretty much the entirety of my adult life, I have found myself seeking and searching for something I don’t have and yet still want. I think Carrie Bradshaw once remarked about how New Yorkers are always looking for a job or an apartment….or a man. And if she didn’t say that, then perhaps it was me – because it has truly been the story of my life. One out of three. Two out of three. Two and a half…..no wait, I hate that fucking job, we’re back to two. What do you mean you think I’m great but you don’t want to be in a relationship asshole? Whoops…..back to one! Is it me who can’t seem to have it all or does everyone go through this? Or do most normal people not torture themselves with this and just have lower expectations? Am I tortured by my own hopes and dreams? Quite possibly yes.

So I’m in the back seat of a cab, making the long trip home after an exhausting day at work, looking out the window, at all the sights and lights of the city – feeling like I should feel happy and grateful and yet I find myself feeling worried, anxious, stressed, tired and wondering if I can have my cake and eat it too. Can I and will I ever have the career, the man, the relationship, the security, stability and the “things” be it material or emotional, that I’ve always longed for? I yearn for balance of work and personal life but I seem to merely swing like a pendulum back from one extreme to the other.

Work= stress=money=no life/no time.

No work=free time=stress=no money=feelings of inadequacy.

Fuck me! I swear the people I watch on tv seem to have it all, why can’t I?!

Some days I enjoy the hopeful prospect of meeting new people in the search for the man…well the man I’ve been searching for. Other days I’m just so spent I wish I could simply come home to someone to cook me dinner and rub my feet. Instead I have to figure out how I’m going to look fresh and act enthused about a first date I don’t want to be on with someone who doesn’t know a thing about me. I work all day and then have to put on my Meryl Streep to appear all breezy, fun and just so full of enthusiasm with someone who’s life story I’ll be subjected to over the course of a glass of wine and nachos.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling down per se, or simply reflective. Maybe I’m just too complex to be happy. Maybe I need better meds. Maybe I need to start drinking. Maybe I need to start studying eastern philosophy. I worry too much, I think too much, I care too much and I put too much pressure on myself. These qualities are reflected in every pore of my being at work and in my personal life. I am truly my own worst enemy.

I know I’m lucky in many ways, but that doesn’t ease the stress. Does writing help? Sure. And I don’t have time for real therapy anyhow. Will tomorrow be a better day? Who knows. All I know is I’ll feel better about it all for about 10 minutes when I get home and open up the box of new boots I ordered online.

Booty-licious

So I got this message today…

OH. MY. GOD. you may be the hottest, sexiest girl I have ever seen, what the hell are you doing on a site like this… btw I know you probably wont message me back, but I figured I wouldn’t pass up this chance… 

simply gorgeous… 

xoxo 

yeah….he’s 22

I’m not…even close to 22.

Hurricane Man and I went out last week and had a fabulous time. Was a lot of fun, chemistry, attraction, laughs etc. We went back and forth a few times during the week but never got together. I did get a message at 10:40 pm one night asking if I wanted to come over to his apartment. So this one is pretty cut and dry. If he calls and follows up this week with a date that consists of something more than booty I’ll be pleasantly surprised. If I get another late night invite I won’t be totally surprised and if I never hear from him again…I won’t be surprised at all.

This Too Shall Pass

Thinking of my fellow New Yorkers (even those I’ve dated), as well as the rest of the East Coast communities that have lost so much.

As the news and media fades away, so many will be forced to rebuild and repair, starting anew. New Yorkers have a certain resilience, and I’m constantly blown away by how times like this can bring out the best in people.

Give time, give clothing, give money and give prayers….all needed badly.

p.s. Hurricane Man and  still haven’t met. That clock is a tickin’

Hunker Down

Well I made it here in one piece.

Here I am, back in the Big Apple to resume chapter 643 of my life. So far so good, albeit it’s been a whirlwind with moving, new job, unpacking, head cold etc, etc. Oh and did I mention Hurricane Sandy?

Just now getting things sorted out and trying to ease myself back into the dating scene. So far I gotta say, it’s a bit grim. All the women over 25 in my office are married and the men are gay. Pretty standard protocol. So I started snooping around online and somebody must have posted my profile on seniorcitysingles.com because the only men writing me are over 50. Well over it.

I’m optimistic simply because I have to be, but also I’m in a new neighborhood, a new job and surrounded by friends so already I feel good. Then the storm hit. I’m locked away indoors for less than 24 hours and my ass hurts from too  much couch and tv time. I showered this morning and I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting dressed until the subways open and I’m forced to go back to work. I’m enjoying my nesting time as long as I have power, tv, cold beverages and the internet. I’m all good, with the exception of this awful sugar crash I’m having from breaking into the Halloween candy and Armageddon food I’ve been wolfing down.

I received what one would think was an enticing email saying “Hello, My name is Francois and I am a French surgeon….” I knew before even opening that sucker it was bad news. Call me psychic, call me jaded, call me an experienced dater. That was a red herring. Hours later, and in no rush to read this or any of the other wretched messages, I eventually went online to see what was happening. Then it hit me……this is like a bar at closing time. Everyone lurking around, looking around, possibly seeking someone to share the end of days or at least the next few hurricane rain days with. Holy crap, I just stumbled on a dating gold mine! Nobody is working and we’re all bored, horny and trapped indoors!

Sent out a few emails and heard back right away from someone else who was surely in the same mindset as I. We chatted briefly and then when we discovered we don’t live too far from one another he asked if I wanted to hang out tomorrow afternoon during the storm. In theory this sounds fun and eventful, but I gotta say, this hurricane is pretty much ensuring I will not be moving much off my couch unless it’s to the kitchen to make more ice and grab another diet coke or Twizzlers. If I lose power, I immediately switch to wine and goldfish crackers. Advance planning is imperative here.

So Hurricane Man is a cutie  but I’m going to insist we meet when no lives are at risk and I come down off this sugar high.