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.