That's what friends are for.

The urban dictionary defines a "lost soul" as "somebody who has no direction in his/her life, a lost soul can have many acquaintances but never any real close friends. Often a lost soul will long for someone to understand him/her, and because it is hard to understand the mind of a lost soul, often one will think he/her is mentally unstable, especially in today's culture and society." You may wonder what inspired me to go typing this terminology into google one random day. Well, I'll tell you. It all happened when I received one of the last emails from the Cuban. He basically called me that in a semi-joking kind of way. I know he wasn't being too harsh because he followed it up by saying that, "We're all in the same boat here, trying to figure out what we like and what works for us." He has a point. Obviously I have heard the phrase lost soul before, but I never really thought in an indepth manner if that applied to me or what exactly was entailed in the meaning. But then obviously I began to think back on my adult life, all 14 years of it so far, and it occurred to me that to many people who live a more traditional lifestyle of going to college, getting a stable job, getting married, and beginning the procreation process all completed by the age of 32, I think my life does appear out of the "norm," whatever that means.

But...and this is a very big But, I never really aspired to have a traditional life in the sense described above. I mean, yes, I definitely do want to get married, and I do want to have kids, but I've always felt like I really want to live my life fully before going there. Yes, like so many, I am afraid of that word "commitment" and all that it entails. I don't think I'm alone in this. In fact, I think many people break down and start getting married and having kids quite simply because all their friends are doing it. No dude wants to be that single guy who's hanging out at the kids' birthday parties scoping out the babysitters. And no chick wants to be the one single girl at a dinner party amongst all of her couple friends. How wretchedly torturous that would be. And then it occurred to me, I think part of the reason I have always felt very little pressure to grab a guy and get married and move to the suburbs is because all of my close friends are like me. In fact, most of my friends who are in my age group are still single. I actually only have one real friend who's married, but she's remained cool so that's a plus. However, if I'm a lost soul, then I guess so many of my friends are, too. I've always tended to gravitate towards free spirits or artists of some sort or just generally people who didn't fit in in high school. It's come to be a general rule of thumb that if you hated high school, we would probably get along because those people always turn out to be the coolest adults. It's been my finding that in high school it's all about trying to fit in and not stand out, but when you go to college you start to realize that the more different you are, the cooler you inevitably become.

Thus, when a surprise message from one of my closest friends from college, Albert, popped through on my inbox last week, it couldn't have come at a better time. It totally made the Cuban's comment about me being a lost soul not only make sense but something I actually grabbed onto and embraced. I'm sure you've all seen "Will and Grace." If ever there was a Will in my life, it would have to be Albert. He is an incredibly gifted pianist, sharply humorous, keenly observant about the people and the world around him, and insanely quirky. Needless to say we got on like old souls from the start. He was also my devoted gay companion for many years when I lived in LA. We were even roomates for a year back in 2000-2001 when I was like 23. Albert was still a poor, struggling college student at the time, and I was doing that lost soul post college blues thing. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life or my English degree so I found myself working at the Virgin Megastore on Sunset Blvd. That was great fun because celebrities would come in nearly everyday. Yep, I've touched the credit cards of Tobey Maguire, Cuba Gooding Jr., Ben Kingsley, Pamela Anderson, Neil Patrick "aka Doogie Howser" Harris, all while ringing up their DVDs. I also worked as a Coffee Barista and a Bartender. Sure it was a lean time as far as money went, but looking back now I seem to only recall it with fondness. I just had so much fun. I remember me and Albert shared this tiny little studio apartment, and we would stay up late at night watching bad TV like the Real World or listening to Albert's "Elton John's Best of" CD which contained sappy love songs that reminded me of certain boys at the time. And, of course, we would talk. I would bring home loads of sugary snacks, and Albert and I would discuss the theories of love and life as far as one can when you're in your early 20s while eating gummie bears and red vines. That year I dated a musician, a writer, and an actor, and Albert was there and listened ever so intently to each rendevous, encounter, and sometimes disappointment. Even though money was tight, it seemed we always still found creative ways to have fun like hopping in the car and driving aimlessly around LA while listening to top 40 radio or going to random dive bars to listen to the band of his co-workers from the pizzeria play. I swear sometimes poor people have the most fun. You're so much more creative and appreciative with your spare time. That being said though, it was a chapter, definitely an era. I think you have the patience to be poor when you're a certain age. I wouldn't want to live that way now so in a sense I guess I have progressed onto a certain next level, whatever that is. I left LA in the summer of 2005. I can't believe it's been nearly 5 years since I've seen Albert. Getting his email, made me smile and laugh so much and just kind of reminded me who I am at the core. It's really interesting to hear from someone who knew you when you were 20 years old. I mean seriously, it would be so trippy to see him and catch up with him. Seeing him again at 32, he would be one of the people who would be able to tell me the ways in which I had changed and the ways in which I had remained the same. Here is what he wrote just so you can adore him just as much as I do:

"Reading your blog is like being back at 809 West 30th...late at night...some random story about some random boy...the sound of the blinds rustling as you would roll over (Fyi--My bed was right next to the blinds). I miss those days... OH, and I love how I could recognize all of the guys that made it into your blog: (Insert list of boys' names). I do wish I could be up there sharing all of this experience with you, but I have my music thing going on here...Anyway, have fun with the rest of the dates. Although, try to find someone more creative. I think you're looking for someone to excite you and to move your soul, but, so far (as far as I can recall), you've had teachers, lawyers, doctors, writers, bloggers, accountants, chefs, and other practical dudes. You're in New York: date a painter; find a ballet dancer (a straight one); go to an improv comedy night and find a goofball. I mean, match.com, match.com, match.com...nothing, nothing, nothing...and then—poof!—speed dating yields both Mr. Handsome AND The Cuban. (Sorry about THAT roller coaster, by the way. Wish I had a picture of him, though...) So, keep workin' it. AND, keep being sassy on these dates! Carole, you rock. Oh, and I actually ordered an apple martini at a bar the other night...to live vicariously. Please, please, please convince one of these guys to take you on a carriage ride through central park. And, hello, what about a romantic moment atop the Empire State Building? Ok, gotta go to bed, but I'll try to keep more in touch...Anywho, happy Valentines day. (Go on a wine tasting date.)"

Isn't he fabulous? Reading this was like a gift because it allowed me to see how someone viewed me both from the past and even presently by following my blog. And in a way, it got me to see a huge part of what I am looking for as well. I want a guy with passion. I need that. Needless to say the years and distance pulled Albert and I in different directions, but I think a true friend is someone who if you see them even after many years, the initial meeting is one of completely no awkwardness, and you're both just like, "Hey, it's been a long time. Let's go get something to eat." So right now, I'm posting an open letter. Albert, get thee self to NYC!! Your letter totally reminded me that yeah, I am a lost soul. I won't deny it, but I think all the people I'm really close to and fond of are in their own beautiful ways, too. I don't particularly agree with the part of the urban dictionary definition that says, "a lost soul can have many acquaintances but never any real close friends." This may be the case for a truly lost soul, but I have to say I think the key to being happy in life and okay with not having it all figured out is finding those other lost souls in the world, bonding, and making it work. So where does that leave me with regards to love? Is it imperative that I find a guy that in some sense relates to the lost soul concept as well? Well, I've always joked that I don't particularly get along with completely well adjusted, middle of the road people who've never really questioned or worried about anything. Maybe that's why for many years I was drawn to the mysterious, brooding type. But ultimately those situations lead me to see that I'm not completely on that sphere either. I'm way too optimistic and happy to really click with a morose type. But I do see myself ultimately finding a guy who is searching to connect with someone and build a life together. I know he's out there. I just haven't met him yet. I wonder if he's sitting on a stoop somewhere in Manhattan people watching and eating a falafel from one of those street vendors. Oh man, if only our paths were to cross. And Albert, if only you were here to have me go on about it. Afterall, that's what lost souls are for.

Date #25--The Photographer

I am feeling particularly free and alive on this Sunday afternoon as I head to the International Center of Photography to meet date #25, the Photographer. My high level of optimism isn't so much that I'm excited to meet him, but it's just rather the mood I'm in. Do you ever just wake up one day and feel refreshed and over something? I don't know, but it has happened today. One month since I last saw him, and I just feel over the Cuban. He's out there somewhere in the City of New York or probably the state of New Jersey since it's Sunday, and he is doing his thing, and I am doing mine, and I feel okay that we're not really in each other's lives anymore. In the film "Stand by Me" there is a great line that the narrator uses as he reflects back on his life. He says, "People come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant." Maybe an overexaggeration, but nowhere is it more possible or apparent than in a place like New York City. So as I walk along the Avenue of Americas I am feeling like my jolly old self and rife with a new perspective and a rediscovered openness to really find a guy I like and to do it on my own terms and in my own time.

Truth be told, I have become very intrigued by the Photographer. He looks interesting in his online photos. Speaking of my topic from last time, he seems rough around the edges. He has a very visible tattoo of a scorpion running down his neck, and he's not smiling in most of the pictures. When I had showed them to Dawn and asked what she thought about him, she had responded that he "looks scary." But I don't think so. Something about him does not seem threatening. Maybe it's his profile. He's very straightforward in his profile. He says that he's looking for one of four listed options 1. Serious girlfriend, 2. Someone to date casually, 3. Someone to just hook up with, 4. Friends because he could use more of those. I like his candor, and in a sense I think I am open to all of those except for maybe 3 solely by itself. In any event, my expectation, which I shouldn't be forming, of him is that he is a downhome sort of guy. He also talks about his cat in his profile so I figure he can't be that intimidating.

When I arrive at ICP, I immediately spot him standing in the lobby. In his profile, he had mentioned that he considered himself about 10 pounds away from being athletic and toned so instead he would consider himself average. I think this is okay considering I'm about the same, but when I see him he is a bit pudgier than his description. I would say closer to 20 or 30 pounds from being athletic and toned, but that's not really an issue. I'm not into muscle heads at all. Moreso the issue I have is when people fudge on the details. Just be honest, and someone will either like you or they won't. I once liked a guy who was morbidly obese. I really did so I've never been someone to discount a guy based completely on his physique. At the same time I'm not a chubby chaser either. Like we've all come to see, in the end it comes down to simple chemistry. So let's see what the photographer has for me. We greet each other, and the immediate thing that strikes me is how gentle he seems, not in a questionably gay kind of way but rather just a very not rough around the edges kind of way. I feel at ease.

We get the tickets, and it turns out that the special exhibit is on the photography of Miroslav Tichý. He is a photographer from the Czech Republic who seems to have a theme in his photos. Many of them are out of focus, and a large number of them are of either women's butts or ankles. It's really interesting. The Photographer and I walk through the gallery taking it all in and randomly exchanging acknowledgements that "oh, it's yet another butt shot, what do you know." We don't really get to know each other too much at first. This reminds me of the time at the Museum of Sex how I was totally engaged in what we were looking at and not really interested in making small talk until afterwards. This is the same exact situation. The Photographer is taking in the photos and really pondering what he feels about them to the point where I almost feel intrusive if I start asking questions about where he's from, where he went to school, etc. I already know from reading his profile that he is from Northern California originally, but he has been living in NYC for 11 years where he's been working as a fashion photographer. I think it is so cool to be on a date with a real live artist type who's actually making a living pursuing what he loves.

It's interesting because I think NYC is far too broad to put people into boxes, but if I had to categorize I would say there are three main categories that seem to persist in the mainstream population. I think one category is the corporate world. I see this everyday when I go to my 9-5 job. Grand Central at 8:30 am looks like ants marching as you see men and women rushing in all directions with brief cases and overcoats en route to climb that corporate ladder of primarily finance. The second category I think of is one of altruism and humanity. I see this population of people who are helping the homeless, elderly, children, etc. These people tend to be in helping professions such as social work, teaching, non-profits. The third category that is definitely very prevalent is the artist. This city is filled with folks from all over trying to make it in theatre, music, dance, art, writing, photography, modeling, fashion, etc. It's in distinguishing these categories of people that I've started to ponder what exactly kind of guy I see myself with. I've dated a ton of corporate guys at this point. I find the stability and their work ethic to be sexy and alluring. Yet, there is something about the artsy type that gets me everytime. I like someone who thinks and lives kind of off the beaten track. I like someone who is a bit unconventional. And then sometimes at the end of the day I think how lovely it would be to meet someone who was studying psychology like me. We could fall in love and open our own practice, and close it down every August and travel together for a month through Europe, and we would be like minded in fighting for equality and social justice. The only problem is that my master's program is filled with girls. Seriously, on the first day I was looking around and noticing there were nothing but chicks. I was so disappointed. It took me all of about a month to pull up match.com on my computer screen and start looking.

The other photographer on exhibit is Alan B. Stone. It's kind of nice to see someone else's work because one can only look at ankles and butts for so long. The Photographer says, "Well, this guy is not so much into ankles and butts, but I think I know what he is into." He pulls me in close to look at some photos on display, and they are very raw photos of men with glistening muscles and heavenly physiques. Yep, there is definitely a theme in this exhibit as well. I just say, "Well, I'm happy that this museum has something for everyone." Afterall, the Photographer had plenty to look at for one floor. Now it's my turn. I kind of like the candid shots of a boyscout troop going swimming in the lake. Once we make it all the way through the gallery, I ask the Photographer what he thought about it. He says that he can appreciate it, but honestly there were only about five or six pieces that really inspired him. The rest didn't really jump out at him. I say, "That's the thing about art. It's all subjective. You never know what piece is going to completely move someone." He agrees. So far, the Photographer is hard to read. He's one of the few guys I've been out with so far who is not so very transparent, and I can't really tell what he's thinking of me or the date so far. Though what I have come to find more often than not is that aloofness many times is nervousness. When people seem detached it's not that they actually are, but rather they are just very self aware. Whether or not this is the case with the Photographer is yet to be determined.

I ask him what's next. The Photographer says, "Well, I kind of had an idea that we could go grab some Tibetan food." Okay, this is a good plan. Yum, I have never had Tibetan food before. Sign me up. He continues, "And then if you're up for it, maybe we could check out the new movie 'Creation'." I ask, "What's that?" He says, "It's the new film about Charles Darwin." I think this sounds intriguing and agree. He tells me it's playing at the Sunshine Theater. He lives in the East Village, and the restaurant is there as well so we decide to get on the train and head there. I'm really excited. It is going to be a Downtown date all the way. This is so much more my scene. This guy is really doing it. He's living the life of an artist in the Village. On paper he sounds great. Once we get on the subway I say, "So I have to admit that you're a lot different than I thought you would be." He seems taken aback at what my expansion will entail. He says, "Really?" I say, "Yeah, well, it's just that in your pictures you look kind of mean." He seems alarmed. I continue, "Not mean per se, but you're not smiling in most of them, and you just seemed like you would be more intimidating, but you're actually really nice so I'm relieved." He says laughing, "So you basically thought I was gonna be a total hard ass, like a real jerk. Why would you even want to go out on a date?" I say, "Well, I guess I was intrigued by you, and plus I didn't really think you would be mean because you were talking about your cat and stuff."

Then he softens even more. He starts telling me about how his cat is 18 years old. He's had it since it was a kitten when he himself was 18 years old. He tells me that his cat is a widower. He formerly had a female cat as well who passed away a couple of years ago, and they had been together the whole time. This story completely melts me. I ask him if he has any pictures, and he totally does. He pulls some up on his phone, and yeah, the cat definitely looks like he's getting up in years, but he is cute nonetheless. Quirks like this really charm me, a guy totally glowing when he talks about his cat. I ask, "Do you ever get worried when you come home at night? Like if the cat doesn't come to greet you do you totally get alarmed that something happened?" He says, "Yeah, well, that's why I'm a bit afraid to travel for very long stretches. I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving him there by himself." This guy isn't a hard ass at all. He's totally gentle.

We get off the train, and we start walking towards the restaurant. We talk about the Photographer's work. He moved to NYC with no contacts and was poor for a while but just gradually started sending his stuff out and getting jobs, and now he's a full scale photographer who does shoots for magazines that we all read or have at least seen. He says he's actually interested in seguing from the fashion world into more advertising. I ask him if he's met Kate Moss. He says no, but he's met Giselle. He says she looks just as good in person as you would imagine her to, and she's really nice. We get to the restaurant. It's called Tsampa. It's really nice. It's decorated to feel like you are in Tibet. Well, I've actually never been to Tibet, but I can imagine this is an upscale imitation. Once we are seated and looking at the menus, the Photographer says that he heard the Lychee Martinis are supposed to be good so we order a couple of those. We also get some potstickers and spring rolls as appetizers. When the martinis come, they are delicious. I tell the Photographer that my signature drink is the apple martini. I say I like that it is super fruity and tastes good, but at the same time it's pretty much just straight alcohol so you only need a couple to really be feeling good. I tell him it's economical. But as far as martinis go, I might have to say the lychee martini is coming in a close second. This is the second time I've had it, and it is oh so refreshing.

Our meal comes, and I have the tsampa salmon. It is so tasty and flavorful. It's only my first time, but I proclaim that I like the flavor of Tibet. So we continue having a nice and easy conversation, and I tell the Photographer that I work as a receptionist at a hedge fund by day. He asks, "Have you ever been sexually harrassed at work?" I say, "No, sadly," because let's face it. Most of the corporate finance guys that I work with are really good looking. The Photographer tells me about how since he works with a lot of models, he gets the inside scoop on how seedy those Wall Street types are. He says every model is either dating a guy who works on Wall Street or in Real Estate. I say, "I have this stereotyped perception that those guys are always snorting coke in the bathroom." He says rather seriously, "No, it's totally true." I've never really thought about it until now, but it suddenly dawns on me that most of the guys in my company are totally reminiscent of the main character in "American Psycho"--so well groomed, well dressed, successful in the financial world, and who knows what kind of extracurriculars after hours. I love to observe the corporate world as an outsider, but let's be real. That is so not my scene.

I ask the Photographer if he's ever snorted coke, and of course he has, but he tells me that pot is his drug of choice. He asks me if I've ever smoked, and I say, "Sure. I think most people do at some point in college." Then I ask him how much he smokes. I say, "So like do you always have a stash on hand in your apartment just in case you want to?" He says, "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I always make sure my dealer keeps me stocked." I say, "Wait, you have an actual dealer?" He looks surprised and then remembers I just moved here, and he says, "Oh, you don't know about the dealer system. Everyone who smokes in NY is part of the dealer system. You just call them up, and then they greet you by your first name and tell you they'll be at your apartment in 45 minutes." I say, "Well, how do you become part of the dealer system? I mean where do you get the phone number from?" He says, "You just get referred by someone. For example, now I could refer you to my dealer." OMG, this conversation is so very New York. I'm not the least bit interested in getting sucked into the dealer system, but I find it to be hilarious that I'm sitting at this Tibetan restaurant on a Sunday night having this conversation.

The Photographer tells me, "Well, based on your profile I wasn't sure what to expect because you listed yourself as Christian. All these thoughts go through one's mind like is she going to be someone who talks about it all the time or is she a prude. But so far I have to say you totally rock." Wow, I just got verbal confirmation. This whole time I had been unable to tell what he was thinking. He goes on, "Yeah, if I could find a girl to smoke with that would be beyond awesome." It then occurs to me that this guy might be way more into pot than what I am looking for. I mean I think having a hit once in a while is fine and all, but again it's not a lifestyle for me. It's more a novelty. Once dinner is complete, we decide to head to the theater. It's interesting because on the walk there I notice that something has shifted. The Photographer is a lot more open and affectionate towards me. At random times he puts his arm around me or shifts my body in the direction that we need to be walking when we approach a crosswalk. It's pretty cold outside, and he pulls the fur trimmed hood from my coat over my head. It dawns on me that I think the Photographer feels closer to me now that we've had the pot discussion. We've also had the religion discussion and established that I'm a completely off the wall liberal. And then I realize that fear of being judged can make people seem guarded in the beginning as well. Sure, it may not work out with most of these guys, but I'm glad I can at least be myself and present something that is maybe different from their original perception when they see the word Christian.

We get to the theater and grab some M&Ms before we take our seats. The movie is good. It stars Paul Bettany as Charles Darwin along with his real life wife Jennifer Connelly so there is obviously good chemistry. One of the main points of the film is the conflict between Darwin's ideas on evolution and his wife's religious beliefs. But in the end they make it work, and it tells a very beautiful story I think. Yeah, the religion debate is something I generally don't get hung up on. When I started this project I was almost certain I wanted to find a liberal Christian like myself, but I think if I could find a spiritual guy who at least respected me and what I chose to believe that would be a good starting point. The Photographer is Agnostic, and he's straightforward about it. I just don't like getting in situations where the guy pretends to be okay with it, but then it becomes an issue. It's kind of like giving a description of your physical appearance before you meet someone. Just be honest, and let attraction either grow or not from there.

After the movie, the Photographer and I talk about what we should do now. He says, "Well, I have to work tomorrow so I don't really feel like drinking so I guess you could either come back to my place and meet my cat since it's right up the street, or I could walk you to the subway." I jokingly say, "Wow, could we smoke a bowl at your place?" He gets really excited, "Yeah, we could totally do that. I have 'Say Anything' on Netflix. A little pot. John Cusack. Does it get any better?" I'm thinking, ya know, this would have sounded really appealing when I was like 22, but now not so much. Instead I just say, "Umm, not on the first date. I think I should head home. I have work in the morning." The Photographer understands, and he walks me to the train. We hug goodbye, and he says, "So I'll call you." I tell him, "Okay, I had a good time." And I really did, but I think the Photographer and I are on different wave lengths. Even though I think he is, as they say in his homeland of Northern California, hella cool, I think he needs a girl who is gonna show up on Valentine's Day with those homemade pot brownies in tow. And I think even he knows this much to be true which is why I'm sure him and his cat are having a lovely time right now smoking out and living that artsy kind of life.

International Center of Photography: http://www.icp.org/
Tsampa: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/tsampa/

Date #24--Mr. Nice Guy

I am meeting Mr. Nice Guy at the Brooklyn Museum at 2 pm on Saturday. It is the next to the last day for the special "Who Shot Rock N Roll" Exhibit, and I have been dying to see it for the past few weeks since seeing it advertised on the subway everyday. It is an exhibit containing a special collection of photos through the years of famous rock n roll performers. I love music so I think it will be super cool. The main reason I suggested this to Mr. Nice Guy in particular is because he listed in his profile that he was a big music afficionado and also dabbled around as a musician himself. It seems like it will be a perfect fit between guy and activity. In fact, he responded back rather enthused saying, "I can see you're already considering my interests. You get major points for that." So I arrive a few minutes early, and I anxiously await the arrival of my date-to-be. I think if I had to say offhand, I would guess that I have been the second person to arrive more often than not, but I find on the rare occasions when I am the first, I like the position. I like being able to see the guy coming and sizing him up and mentally assessing if I am attracted to him or not. After just a short wait, I see Mr. Nice Guy walk through the door. He is carrying a gift bag. We hug. He says, "This is for the animal lover in you." I can't believe it. He has brought me a gift. Outside of Anime Guy with the homemade cd, he is the first guy to come bearing gifts. I don't know how I feel about this. Granted it's an extremely nice gesture and definitely sets him apart, but it also puts him in the same category of guys that are trying to seriously move this to instant relationship status. I look in the bag, and there is a teddy bear dressed in a cop outfit. This totally correlates to the answer I have written in my match.com profile when it asks, "Do you have any pets?" I respond, "I love animals. I just don't have the time or space to care for a pet properly right now. However, I would one day like to have a couple of cats and a couple of dogs. I love watching Animal Cops on Animal Planet, but it always makes me cry." It seems Mr. Nice Guy has taken note of my profile as well. Points for him.

I ask him if he's ever been to the Brooklyn Museum, and he tells me that this is his first time. We proceed to get in line. I tell him that I'm really excited to see all the photos. In fact, this past summer I took a massive roadtrip around America, and one of the stops was the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. That place was filled with paraphanelia and pictures from the world of rock, and I loved it. I ended up spending 7 hours just looking at everything. I ask Mr. Nice Guy who the one person or band he's most excited to see a photo of is. He thinks for a moment, and he says, "If I had to only pick one I would say Radiohead. They're probably my favorite band of all time." I say, "Oh, I love Radiohead. They're quickly becoming classic. They are to kids today what U2 was to us." He totally agrees, and for a moment we both feel really old, but hey at least we have the advantage of actually having been angst ridden teenagers and totally aware when Nirvana first came on the scene. I always think it's so funny to see 18 year olds talking about how cool and groundbreaking they were, and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah, I was there. I lived it, and oh my isn't this what my parents thought when I proclaimed at age 18 that the Beatles were really cool." Oh yeah, I have moved into a different era.

But at least Mr. Nice Guy is in the same boat, and we are able to relate to all the same things as far as pop culture goes. Once we get the tickets, we decide to check out the lower floors and to save the special exhibit which is on the 5th floor for last. We begin perusing the galleries, and I have to say that the Brooklyn Museum has an impressive collection. It's much bigger than I originally imagined, and Mr. Nice Guy agrees. He says on more than one occasion that he was just expecting a small exhibit space. He didn't actually realize that it had so many pieces and diverse styles. Indeed, it is filled with everything from Renaissance to very modern art. I ask Mr. Nice Guy if he prefers classic pieces or more abstract paintings. Like most people he answers with the former. It's so weird, but I really do love both equally. I'm the same way with architecture. I love old historic buildings, but I also really love very modern avant garde type buildings. In fact, I've always thought that the house I one day live in will either be a classic Victorian style or something totally modern with lots of glass. I don't really like the in between designs.

In any event, Mr. Nice Guy and I walk and talk and discuss the art as well as get to know each other, and I think I kind of like the museum date. I think going to a museum with a guy is a great way to gage what he is like in everyday life. First of all, I think a large number of men absolutely loathe the idea of going to museums. They just do. I don't think I could really get serious about a guy who was this way...unless...he was willing to make the effort because he knew it was something I was into. Likewise, watching sports on TV isn't really my thing, but I'm willing to get into it if a guy is really into it. But I've been fortunate to find a fair number of men who actually do claim to like museums. These guys have real potential, and I like discussing art with them and finding out what they like and what they don't like. I think one of the things that really appeals to me about abstract and modern art is the level of interpretation that's required. Until the artist flat out explains it, which rarely ever happens, it can pretty much be anything you want it to be. I like the use of imagination, and it leads to interesting discussions.

While we are discussing, I find out to what extent Mr. Nice Guy has pursued music. It turns out he's been playing the guitar for about 17 years, and he's written quite a few songs. Also, back in 2002 he moved out to Seattle on a whim to try to break into the business. He gave it his best shot, but nothing ever really came of it, and after about a year he moved back to New York where he's from, and he took a day job as an accountant. Ever since then, he's never really pursued music full time. Instead he now considers it more of a hobby these days. It's interesting because I relate to Mr. Nice Guy on a couple of different levels. I remember back in 2005 after being out in LA for 7 years, I moved to Austin on a whim. I didn't know anyone there and had only ever been there once on a short daytrip. I was at a point in my life where I was desperately looking for a change and in many ways to escape from my ex-boyfriend. When I was planning my move I remember friends and family asking, "Do you have a job? Do you have a place to live? Do you know anyone?" I confidently answered no to all of the above, and I just remember the sheer lack of stress I felt about the situation. It was like I just knew that things would fall into place, and they did. I ended up getting the first apartment I applied for. I moved there on a Tuesday, went to the temp agency on Wednesday, and was working by Thursday at the full time office job at a corporate real estate company that I would end up staying at the whole year I was there. I was very fortunate, but I will say that that year in Austin was challenging. It's not the easiest thing in the world to move cold turkey to a new town without the built in insulation of school or some predetermined program. It can be hard to meet people in the real world, but eventually I did. I reconnected with an old college friend and met some others through her. I also made some workplace friends, and I dated a little bit, but I remember the loneliness of just kind of being somewhere but not really having a strong connection with anyone and not really doing what I wanted to be doing. It was in that anomaly of a situation that I first got the idea to go on 50 first dates. Of course, I never did, and in some ways I think I felt like I had to do it now, or I never would.

I also relate to Mr. Nice Guy in his description of how his 9-5 job kind of gradually took him away from his real passion of music. I can't fault him for this because I remember graduating from college with a degree in Creative Writing and having this dream of writing a book. Obviously, it's still in me, and I hope that one day I get to, but LA is as expensive as New York to survive in, and after a couple of years of kind of living an artsy and very poor lifestyle, I broke down and went to a temp agency and ended up getting a really good job as a leasing consultant for an apartment complex in Hollywood. I just got so tired of not knowing how I was going to pay the rent and having two bucks in quarters and having to decide if I was going to do my laundry or use it to buy some spaghetti and sauce to eat for the next three days. The money was good, and it made me relax, and it afforded me a lifestyle where I could actually enjoy going out in LA to restaurants and clubs and shows, etc. Eventually I moved onto an even higher paying job at a life insurance company, and before I knew it I was totally sucked into the corporate world. That's the thing of it. Life sometimes gets in the way of you doing exactly what you want to be doing, and comfort sometimes stifles art. I think in order to really make it in any kind of art form you have to be really hungry for it. If you're eating three squares a day, your drive to succeed diminishes, and you take less risks. Luckily my boredom in Austin drove me to flee to Japan for a couple of years to teach English, and my passion for life really became reawakened. I traveled all over Asia, and I wrote about it. I fell out of love with my ex-boyfriend, and I channeled my heartbreak into writing. And I got excited about my next chapter in life which brings me here to this wonderful day at the Brooklyn Museum with Mr. Nice Guy, responsible aspiring rock star, who I relate to a lot actually.

As we're making our way up to the 5th floor, Mr. Nice Guy asks me if I play an instrument. I say , "Well, when I was in school I played the clarinet, and later on I took a few guitar lessons and piano lessons." He says based upon our conversation up until now, "Wow, so you've done painting, drawing, ceramics, writing, and music. You're just a well rounded artist." I say, "Yeah, but my problem is that I've just dabbled in all of those things so I've never really excelled at any of them. You've been playing the guitar for 17 years. That's amazing." He says, "Yeah, but I wish I knew more about the other art forms." I say, "Admit it. You just took up the guitar to get girls, didn't you?" He laughs and kind of admits it. I say, "That's why all guys initially take up the guitar. It's because they know a guy with a guitar is a total lady magnet." Eventually we come across the Rock n Roll Exhibit, and it's packed. We decide just to get in line and start following it around so we can see all the pictures. The first section contains some great early shots of Elvis. If I had lived back in the 1950s I would have totally been obsessed with him. He really did have it all--the moves, the charm, omg the voice. What a talent and so super sexy just naturally without actually very much effort.

We continue on, and the photos are fantastic. There are performance photos mixed in with candid shots of just about every rock icon you could think of--the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, U2, Blondie, Tina Turner, Madonna, Michael Jackson, REM, B52s, the Smiths, etc, etc. Obviously I won't name them all, but I will say it is such great fun going through this exhibit with someone who really loves music and who knows music. Mr. Nice Guy is well versed. I'll give him that. He can definitely name all of the people in the photos before even reading the names. And eventually we come across a great photo of Radiohead. Yeah, someday in about ten years from now some girl will be saying to a guy at the Brooklyn Museum, "Coldplay is quickly becoming classic. They are to kids today what Radiohead was to us." I ask Mr. Nice Guy what would be his one defining moment as a musician that would tell him he had really done it and left a small mark on the world. He says it would be if he had just one hit song that people knew and remembered over time. This is kind of like the one hit wonder concept. I ask him, "So if you had to choose, would you rather be a one hit wonder, or would you rather be someone who always stayed a bit under the radar and never really had a true breakout hit but always had a steady fanbase--kind of like a cult following?" He says given those two choices he would choose the latter. I think the one defining moment I've always held in my head that would tell me I had done it as a writer is if one day I walk into Barnes and Noble and see my book on the new releases table when you first walk into the store. This has always been a mild fantasy of mine, and if it happened, I would totally hang out in the self help section for a good couple of hours watching people walk by the table, possibly pick up my book, read the jacket synopsis, and then either take it to the register or put it back down. That would be so much fun. It could happen one day...especially in New York. If any of you know a publisher, send them my blog link, *wink, wink.*

All in all, I think the exhibit is really fabulous. It's great seeing all those rock stars in all their untamed glory. We end up spending a good two hours just on the exhibit alone and a total of four hours in the museum itself. It is a Saturday well spent. Before we head back on the train, we make a stop by the restroom. When I come out, Mr. Nice Guy is exiting, and one of the janitors is talking to him and totally enraptured in a conversation. It soon concludes, and the janitor tells us to have a good night. I then ask what they were talking about. Mr. Nice Guy says that the janitor just started talking to him about some plumbing problems they've been having, and he says that that happens to him a lot. Strangers engage him in conversations in daily life and on the street all the time. I could see it. Mr. Nice Guy is nothing short of his name. He has a quality that draws people to him. He is very calm and very agreeable. I would almost say too much so except for the fact that I really do think it's totally genuine. I am surprised when Mr. Nice Guy tells me that though he liked Seattle, New York is actually much more his scene. I actually think he seems much more West Coast because he's so very laid back and not easily frazzled at all.

After the museum, we get on the subway and decide to head back into Manhattan for dinner. I ask him if he has a place in mind. He actually doesn't have a specific place, but he thinks for a moment. I really thrive on the guys picking the restaurants just quite simply because I love restaurant recommendations, and I've been able to eat at some really great ones just through the act of dating. Mr. Nice Guy thinks, and he says, "I have an idea. There's a place that was featured on the show with Andrew Zimmerman." I get really excited, and I say that sounds great. A couple of moments pass, and then he says, or we could go to Korea Town. They have some really good restaurants. I say, "It's entirely up to you." He thinks some more, "Or we could do Japanese." Another pause, "Or actually there's this really good Thai place called Republic." I stop him, "Oh, I've actually eaten at Republic." We can rule that out because I went there on date #4. I'm feeling overwhelmed by the choices. I want Mr. Nice Guy to just pick a place. I want him to be confident in his choice. I want him to surprise me. He's still mulling it over, and I finally say, "Let's just go to the first one you suggested. That was your initial instinct. I'm sure it'll be great." He seems good to go with that.

As we're riding, a guy with a guitar gets on the subway. I really love the subway performers. I find them to be so entertaining. I remember when I had only been here about a week I saw a mariachi duo get onto a subway one time and perform a song all the way through. It was so lively and not half bad, and the funniest part of all was how everyone on the train completely acted like it wasn't happening. I find the reactions of people to be so amusing. In any event, our performer for tonight is really funny. He starts singing, "My Girl," and he totally centers in on one girl. He starts singing, "...to the girl with the glasses in the green jacket." He starts improvising about how, "...she looks like she went to college and knows a lot about computers." She's totally acting like she doesn't hear him. It's really funny. Then he starts singing, "...to the girl in the red pants." Before he gets too far in, we reach our stop and get off. I say, "That guy was really entertaining." Mr. Nice Guy says, "Yeah, I think he was going to single you out next. I saw him looking over in our direction." If that had happened it wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining because I would have totally reacted too much.

The restaurant is called Congee, and it's on Bowery on the Lower East Side. At first when he pronounces the name, I think he is saying Kanji, and I assume it's Japanese, but it turns out it's spelled completely differently and is Chinese and refers to the rice porridge called congee. I am really excited by Mr. Nice Guy's pick. I am certain that the food is going to be delish. I express to him by saying that you can always tell that the food's going to be good when there are way more Asian people eating there than white people meaning it's totally one of those Chinatown looking establishments that happens not to be in Chinatown, but it definitely has the same decor and atmosphere. We end up ordering a couple of the congee specialties, oysters, and jellyfish. Part of the draw of coming here was to try to eat some of the weird stuff like Andrew Zimmerman. Once the food comes, I am delightfully happy with our picks. The congee selections are so scrumptious, and the oysters are quite tasty, too. The jellyfish has good flavor, but the texture is definitely off the beaten track. I love the meal.

Coincidentally I also like the conversation as well. That's the thing of it. Mr. Nice Guy really is so very nice. He's complimentary. He listens when I speak and says encouraging things about my opinions. He makes me feel like I have some good points, and he is able to express himself well, too. It's at this moment though that I have trouble picturing him as a rock star. He's just a little too nice. The reason rock stars are rock stars is because they're edgy and confrontational and outside the norm. I remember seeing a piece at the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame that talked about all rock stars somehow feeling cutoff from mainstream society in some realm, and it seemed to imply that the only real way to achieve true rock stardom was to feel angst ridden and like an outsider. Can you really achieve this if you're totally in society working a 9-5 corporate gig? I'm not so sure, but I like Mr. Nice Guy, and I think he could be a good friend. He's actually interesting and artistic and someone who you would be happy to have on your side on the uphill climb.

But haven't we been through this before? I guess the thing that is missing for me is the rough edge, the surprise ending. I want to feel passion, but in this instance I feel platonic. Ever since my over the top interaction with the Cuban I've tried to ask myself which is better--the kind of relationship where you totally get swept away just like in a movie or the kind where you grow into it and you like the person more and more over time. Part of me has become sort of skeptical of the immediate rush just quite simply because I've seen more and more in my life that that kind of instantaneous high level of chemistry tends to crash and burn over time just because the bar is set so high in the beginning that it's hard to maintain that level of intensity, and it often seems like something is wrong or missing if it becomes more normalized. Whereas I can truly see the benefits of the latter. I was friends with my ex-boyfriend for two years before I ever even contemplated dating him. I never had any romantic feelings for him until I heard a rumor that he liked me. Once that was revealed it was like I suddenly saw him in a different light, and only then did I develop feelings for him, and by the end of it I thought he was the sexiest thing ever so I guess you could say that relationship began on a purely emotional attraction. Had I not loved his personality so much, honestly I don't think I would have looked at him and felt an overwhelming physical attraction. That is something that developed along with the attachment.

So I don't know. I've had both kinds of interactions, and they're both good in their own way. Neither has lasted for the duration, but I think that just comes down to finding the right person which I clearly haven't just yet. After dinner, Mr. Nice Guy says we'll cab it back to my place, and then he'll proceed onto the train station. He's such a gentleman up until the very end. He starts alluding to future plans and even suggests that he's really been wanting to see "Jersey Boys," and if I'm interested he'll look into getting some tickets. I am so tempted to keep him around because I've really been wanting to see "Jersey Boys." However, this reminds me of date #3 with the Pilot who offered me free unlimited travel. Tempting indeed, but I can't just date a guy to get stuff. It would be easy considering they're offering, but if I'm not truly interested I would just start to feel like a gold digger or something which reminds me of a really funny t-shirt I once saw. It read, "Gold Digger--Like a Hooker, Only Smarter!" I'm a Southern Belle, and I'm all for letting a man take me on a date and treat me on the first go around, but that's in essence because I am really giving it a shot and determining whether I like the guy or not. Maybe a good determining factor is hearing about future plans. If you really like the guy, anything he mentions would make you excited like say going with him to pick out frames for his glasses. And if you're not feeling it so much, something you really want to do like go see "Jersey Boys" kind of just sounds like any old outting. I heard a great philosophy one time. "It's not about the spot. It's about who you're with." Touche. So as I go about living and loving everyday in NYC it's great and fantastic and every bit as stimulating as I always hoped it would be, but even I know that all of these outtings would be that much better if I found just the right guy to share them all with.

Brooklyn Museum: http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/
Congee: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/congee/

Date #23--The Food Guy

I am meeting the Food Guy at the American Museum of Natural History at noon on Sunday. I am really eager to see this museum. I have been told by many that it's their favorite in New York City so we shall see. I'm running a little behind. I know. This is becoming a theme with me. I used to be so good with time, but it seems that in NYC, I haven't quite mastered the art of knowing how long it will take on the subway and then to walk to the destination. I am always running behind. However, New Yorkers attribute it to the fact that I lived in California for 7 years. Apparently there is a stigma associated with Californians that they are flighty and always late. I guess I'm not doing much to help the cause. In any event, I text Food Guy that I'll be there shortly. He texts back that he's on the benches to the right hand side when you walk in. When I arrive I go into the museum, and I don't see him anywhere. I give him a call. It turns out the main entrance is on Central Park West which is all the way over on the next street. I tell him I'll walk around and come meet him. My first impression of him based upon our short phone exchange is that he's very New York. He has a bit of an accent, and the exchange is a bit curt. Maybe he's pissed that I'm late. He has every right.

So I hurry around the building and eventually make it to the main entrance. By now it is almost 12:30. I'm feeling a bit self conscious about how late I am. I go inside, and there is a huge dinosaur in the lobby. I know I am in the right spot. I turn to the right, and there he is sitting on the benches. He's listening to his ipod. I approach. He sees me. I say, "When I saw the giant dinosaur I knew I was in the right place." He smiles. He actually doesn't seem put off at all. What I notice in addition is that he's good looking. I'm actually physically attracted to this one. There could be some potential here. We proceed to the ticket line. When we're getting the tickets we decide to opt for the planetarium show as well called "Journey to the Stars." That's the first thing on the agenda so we head there. We start talking and getting to know one another. In his profile, he had mentioned that he worked in food, but he didn't specify what he did so obviously this is the first thing I want to know. I was thinking maybe he was possibly a food critic, but it turns out he works for the Food Network. He does something related to marketing, I think, and Rachael Ray films her 30 minute meals show in the same building where he works. I think this is super cool. I love Rachael Ray. He tells me that she's a bitch. I say, "Really?" He says, "Yeah, she's always yelling at her PAs, and she's very demanding." Well, he would know better than me. I don't know if it's true or not, but I still think it's a fun bit of gossip.

Food Guy is from Long Island originally, but he now lives in the City on the Upper East Side. He was actually born in Japan, but it's pretty clear that the years in New York have Americanized him beyond belief. However, he is fluent in Japanese. As a matter of fact, his parents just recently moved back to Japan to live so now it's just him and his older brother in NY. I find it very appealing that he's bilingual. When I lived in Japan, the Japanese teachers used to joke with me by saying, "Carole, if your Japanese starts improving we'll know you're dating a Japanese guy." There's something to that. So we go in the planetarium and watch the show. It's really cool, and the best part is that Whoopi Goldberg is narrating it. That's a nice little surprise that I didn't see coming when I hear her voice come on saying, "Hi, this is Whoopi Goldberg." After the show, we continue exploring the rest of the museum. It really is awesome. The animal reproductions are so lifelike. They honestly look like real animals that have been stuffed though I'm not quite sure. There's also a butterfly sanctuary and of course spectacular displays of dinosaurs. They are freakin' humongous. It's at this point that I realize there's no way dinosaurs and humans could cohabitate together. They are like the size of skyscrapers. They would totally put us into extinction. It is amazing to think about them once existing though.

As we're looking at all the exhibits, Food Guy and I are having a nice conversation. He's funny, and he's very New York in the way that he carries himself, a bit aloof but jovial. I tell him about how I think there's a stereotype of New Yorkers that they're cold and abrasive, but I think that's only because they're that way upon initial interaction. However, once you start talking to them, I actually think New Yorkers are like the friendliest people ever. Honestly, in my first few months of living in the City, I have obviously needed a lot of assistance in the way of directions and general information whenever I'm out and about in the City, and I've never had a bad experience. People are always more than willing to help me out and point me in the right direction. I love this City. Food Guy hears me and agrees. He says that New Yorkers are guarded. They don't smile. There's a protective element. He talks about how when he visits Japan, the politeness gets to him after awhile just because he's not used to it. He also talks about how the typical reaction of a New Yorker if someone smiles at them isn't to smile back. Rather they are thinking, "Do I have something on my face? What are they smiling at?" I find this to be particularly funny because for the most part I think it explains why people so often look at me funny when I smile at them for no apparent reason.

By the time we exit the museum, it's about 3:30 pm. Beforehand, Food Guy had informed me that the Jets were in the playoff game, and he was hoping to at least catch the second half of the game. He had suggested that we could find a bar to watch it in. I thought this sounded like fun so I agreed. As we exit, he says, "So we can either call it a day, or you can join me in watching the game." I say, "I'll watch the game with you." I am having fun, and I find myself wanting the date to continue. As we walk along searching for a bar, I take in the neighborhood which is the Upper West Side. I seriously never come up here, but it's nice. It is such a different vibe from Downtown. I'll tell ya, I like all the different parts of NYC, and I think it's good and important to step out of your comfort zone and explore different areas. But at this point if I had to characterize myself if someone asked, I think I would say I'm a Downtown girl all the way. I just love the Village and Chelsea and SoHo. It's grungier and has more of a raw feeling. I think that's where I prefer to be as a singleton in NYC and while I'm really coming into my own. However, that's not to say that I can't appreciate Uptown. In fact, a fantasy of mine would be to live there when I'm married with kids, but let's face it. The cost of living is so astronomical in NYC. I don't know that I would choose to raise a family here. I would consider it, but at the end of the day I'm just happy I'm getting to live here while I'm unattached and don't have any obligations other than looking out for myself. I think everyone should live in NYC at least once in their lives. You'll either love it or hate it, but at least you'll know. As for me, I love it which begs the question. Will I ever really want to leave? Yet to be determined.

Eventually we happen upon a pub on one of the side streets called O'Neals'. It's perfect. It's not too crowded and the game is on. Food Guy and I settle in. I go for my signature Apple Martini, and he gets a beer. As we're watching the game, we get to talking, and obviously I throw out some of my philosophies on dating in NYC and how the rituals are a bit different than anywhere else I have ever been. It's fast paced. People are fickle. They tire of people and things quickly. If you don't meet the criteria early on, you are out of the picture. Food Guy thinks it's funny that I have all of these formulated ideas about the mating rituals of the New Yorker as a prototype, but he does not entirely concur. He says, "New York is like any place else. People are just people. You have to get this idea out of your head that it's so different here." And for a moment I think he's right. If I were approaching dating more as a normal person and not so hung up on the lessons I've learned from shows like "Sex and the City" maybe I would see that. But because I have chosen to explore the underside of the dating world, I think the differences are more apparent to an outsider like me than the similarities. He concedes that maybe my theories apply to New York City, but afterall he is from Long Island originally which is more suburban, and things are not that different there than your average American suburb.

It's at this point that I start to wonder why a guy like this is even on match.com. He's good looking, successful, funny, nice, a heck of a good time. Not for nothing, but he's higher quality than many of the guys I've found on match.com. Well, actually I shouldn't say that entirely. I could use that utterly vague description for many of the guys, but maybe I'm feeling like Food Guy is better because I do find him physcially attractive, and I am attracted to his knowledge of Japanese culture and his mastery of the language. All of these things are very hot to me. And then he tells me he's actually not much of a dater. He's more geared towards the serious relationship so truthfully he actually hasn't used match.com that much. He's been on for a couple of months, but he's only been on a couple of dates. Wow, there is nothing wrong with this guy. He's a real catch. And not to toot my own horn, but I think I've caught him. I can tell he's interested. We're laughing. We're having a second round. We have good chemistry I would say.

By the 4th quarter, the Jets are way down, and it's not looking like they'll make it to the SuperBowl. I ask Food Guy if he has a restaurant in mind for dinner afterwards. He says he's going to text his friend who is like a food expert. He gets back a reply of a place called Pomodoro Rosso. It sounds very Italian and very promising. Food Guy is funny. He tells me he's more downhome. He says, "I like going out to nice places and stuff, but honestly I'm more common. I eat at places like Applebee's." I get really excited. I say, "Oh, Applebee's is really popular in Texas. Do they even have one in Manhattan?" He says, "I think there's one." I say, "Is it in Times Square because all of the big chain restaurants are there like Olive Garden and TGI Fridays and of course Red Lobster." He says he's not sure, but he'll check it out. He says, "If you play your cards right, maybe you'll score a date to Applebee's, but I only take special girls there." He's only joking, but I think it's really funny, and I think it would be kind of entertaining to go to Applebee's in NYC. Afterall, I've already been to the Red Lobster. I know. Not very "Sex and the City" at all.

Eventually the Jets fall hard and game over. It's disappointing really. I mean sure. I'm not a New Yorker, but I remember the hoopla and excitement when the Yankees won the World Series. That was a great moment. Can you imagine how awesome it would have been to have a team make it to the Superbowl the very same year? So close, yet so far away. I know that Food Guy is more discouraged than me mainly because he was actually a fan of this team to begin with and not just because they almost made it to the Superbowl. I say, "I'm really sorry the Jets lost." But for some reason I can't say it with a straight face. I just bust out laughing, and Food Guy gives me a hard time. He says, "Wow, I don't know if you're gonna get that second date at Applebee's or not." I try again, but laughter ensues. I know Food Guy is entertained, but he tries to play it off like he's really put off. He's says he's going to the restroom, and he wants me to concentrate really hard and then do better when he comes back. I think really hard on what I will say. He returns. I look into his face dead serious and say, "I know you really like the Jets, and that was a tough loss. I'm really sorry." He tells me I did good. And then I bust out laughing. It's a no go. I can't be serious especially after two Apple Martinis.

We head to the restaurant, and it's this super cute Italian restaurant. Inside totally feels like Italy. This restaurant was actually mentioned on Seinfeld as the "perfect breakup restaurant." How ironic Food Guy would take me here on a first date, but hey if things progress and then eventually crash and burn, at least we would know the perfect spot to end things at--the very place they began. But I'm not even thinking that far. I'm thinking of the menu filled with delicious options. I choose the risotto pescatore. When it arrives, and I taste it, it is amazing. It's risotto with luscious pieces of shrimp, scallops and other seafood all mixed in with a delicious tomato sauce. Yumtastic. So Food Guy and I enjoy our meal and continue to have a nice conversation. Food Guy really gets into it when he asks me what I'm looking for. And I have to be honest. I say, "Well, I'm new to NYC, and I guess I'm just having fun dating right now. I sort of had a goal to go on like 50 first dates when I moved here so yeah, I guess I'm not really looking for anything too serious at the moment. But my subscription runs out at the end of March so who knows." Food Guy says he hears what I'm saying. He says he understands how it must feel to be completely new to the City, but he says he's the opposite. He's not really into dating a ton of people at once. And I like that about him. And it's weird, but I think there's kind of an unspoken understanding that it's only like a couple of months away and if we should both find ourselves still single at that point, maybe anything is possible...even a big ole meal at Applebee's.

After we have the main course, we indulge in some decadent chocolate cake. It is oh so divine. I've heard it said that many women substitute chocolate for sex. I'm quite sure men don't altogether get the correlation, but it's there. Chocolate is so satisfying in every way. If I had to pick something guys could relate to, I would say it's sports. Guys are totally as into sports as they are sex. They get all charged up when they're watching it and so impassioned. There are some guys who don't leave their house if an important game is on, and in the same breath there are some women who don't need to leave the house if there's a bag of Hershey's miniatures on the coffee table. Needless to say, I am enjoying the dessert, and I have enjoyed this date. At the end of it, I have come to some firm conclusions. Maybe New York is not so different from other places. Afterall it is filled with more people than most places, but what it all boils down to is that people are all searching to love and to be loved whether it's in a town of 200 or a City of 10 million. Maybe the approaches to and longevity of relationships vary, but what I've realized is that I don't want to change who I am. I am me, and that's all that I can be. I don't want to be a serial dater. I don't want to be a serial monogamist. I am perfectly happy being single, but ultimately I do want to be in a committed relationship, and that's what I'm aiming for not just in this project but in life in general. Guys like the Food Guy in essence are like a curve ball. They kind of make you go "hmm." He's not the kind of guy that makes me feel out of control with my emotions. In fact, I'll be fine if there's no second date. However, if there were a second date I think I would like it very much. So what category does that fall into?

The one observation I've seen in people living here is that many are emotionally hardened, and maybe you have to be to survive in a City that encourages survival of the fittest. But at the end of the day, that is something I never want to achieve. I don't want to not feel because then what is the point of life? I know some people say you have to do this in order to avoid getting hurt, but I think feeling pain sometimes is an inevitable part of life. It can't be roses all the time. After my interaction with the Cuban, I don't feel emotionally hardened, but I do feel maybe a bit emotionally numb. Surely there's a difference. Maybe like the Jets, I'm new to all of this, and I'll just continue to get better each time I go up for the championship. New Yorkers are resourceful, and they bounce back quickly. I give them props for that. In fact, the number one response I heard about the Jets' loss was, "There's always next year." Everyone seems to view this loss as just a stepping stone to the ultimate victory, and if there's one quality of New York that I'm happy to adopt, it's that mentality. If I don't feel off the wall sparks with this one, there's always the next one. And Applebee's stays open year round.

American Museum of Natural History: http://www.amnh.org/
O'Neals': http://www.onealsny.com/1-flash.htm
Pomodoro Rosso: http://www.pomodororossonyc.com/

Date #22--Mr. Neurotic

It is ten minutes before 1 pm on Saturday, and I am rushing to get to the corner of West Street and Battery Place so that I can meet my date for today. I didn't want to go out with Mr. Neurotic when he first contacted me mainly because of his location. He currently resides in New Rochelle, NY. If you're like me, a total out of towner, you have no idea where this is, and again this goes back to the thing of wanting to date someone in the City, familiar with the City, and so forth and so on. When I reply with this explanation, Mr. Neurotic is quick to pop back by saying that he actually was born and raised in the City and lived in Harlem for four years, but he only just recently moved to New Rochelle which happens to be in Westchester. Whenever these guys come back with a lengthy explanation about how the distance is not really an issue, I always have a hard time saying no so I agree to a date. For this one, I have suggested Ellis Island. I have never been there, but I have always wanted to take a boatride to see what is over there. When I suggest this, Mr. Neurotic is on the ball. He writes back saying he acquired tickets. I write back saying thanks. I tell him I'll meet him at 1 pm. He writes back that we are supposed to be in line at 1 pm so "don't be late." This is why I am definitely trying my best to be on time.

When I arrive at the boat terminal, there are people everywhere, and I realize I will have to call Mr. Neurotic in order to find him. He picks up. I say, "Hey, are you here?" He says, "I'm at the corner of West St. and Battery Place." In all of my rushing I have jumped the gun and gone straight past our meeting place to the boat dock. I tell him that I'll walk back to meet him. He tells me he's sitting on some benches. As I approach, I see a small man with a yellow windbreaker sitting on the first bench. I realize that I actually saw him on my walk a few minutes earlier. I passed right by him, and I thought it might have been him, but I wasn't sure. I should have said something earlier. In any event, he rises up, and we exchange a slight hug. I say, "I was way too excited. I just went straight for the boats. How are you doing?" He kind of looks to the ground and says, "Oh, I'm nervous, but that's just how I am." I say, "Are you nervous about taking the boat ride?" He says, "Oh no, I just hating meeting people, but anyway let's go."

As we walk to the boat, I'm thinking, "Oh boy, we've got an anxious one here." I decide I'm gonna do my very best to make Mr. Neurotic feel relaxed and at ease. Afterall, we have a whole day together. We proceed to get in line, and Mr. Neurotic informs me that he got us joint tickets to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. This is really exciting news. I actually visited the Statue on my very first visit here just a little over ten years ago. I'm excited to go back because now I hear that the crown is open to the public. It turns out Mr. Neurotic has never actually been to the Statue. This actually doesn't surprise me. Most of the native New Yorkers I have met tell me the same thing. They say, "I've actually never been to the Statue of Liberty." I guess it's true that you never do the touristy stuff when you live somewhere your whole life. The line is a bit long so we have time to get to know one another. Mr. Neurotic is a high school teacher in the inner city. He tried law school for a year out in San Diego, but he didn't like it so he ended up turning to the youth of America. It's very noble. I think teaching is one of the hardest jobs around. I can't imagine doing it in the inner city of New York. I admire him. I also think that maybe this job has not helped Mr. Neurotic with his nerves at all either. He seems a bit on edge. His eyes are bloodshot. He keeps popping mints into his mouth every ten minutes or so.

We start talking about traveling. I tell Mr. Neurotic that I envy his schedule. He gets the whole summer off not to mention a winter and spring break. For all the downsides of going into the teaching field--underpaid, underappreciated, etc.--the job does have its perks. In fact, if I could do it all over again I would have totally gotten my credential back when I was in college. You never know what you should know in the moment, and that is that I love to travel, and teaching would have been the perfect job for me while I was young and unattached. Oh well. In any event, I tell Mr. Neurotic that I really want to backpack around South and Central America over the summer. If you can't do it as a teacher, the next best bet is as a grad student. He says very casually, "I'll go with you, but...you do know parts of South America are dangerous." Well, that's a given. Parts of it are totally uncivilized, but I love the rough style of traveling. I did a bit of it while I was in Asia for a couple of years, and I am just so addicted to the cheap hostels, the rundown buses, the street food, the popping a squat to go to the toilet. You have to travel this way while you have the energy and stamina. I won't wanna be doing this when I'm 40 and lugging around a couple of kids. So I tell Mr. Neurotic all of this, and I think he's impressed by my sense of adventure even if he's the type to give more regard to making sure there's sunscreen, bug spray, and an ATM within arm's reach at all times. He says he would worry about his stuff getting stolen. I tell him, "You work in the inner city. I can't believe something like that would scare you."

Once we're on the boat, we head up to the top level. We manage to snag a nice spot by the railing. It's a beautiful day, perfect weather for a boat ride. In fact, it has been unseasonably warm the past few days, and I feel lucky that we are able to enjoy it. I look around, and I see couples everywhere. It's like they swarmed the boat or something. Most of them are foreign. I can tell because they all seem to have accents. A trip like this would be so lovely with a guy I really liked. Unfortunately, I know that Mr. Neurotic is not the one, but it is so nice to watch Manhattan passing by us. I say, "The Statue of Liberty has to be the ultimate symbol of America, or it's at least in the top five. What do you think the others are?" Mr. Neurotic thinks for a moment, and he can't really come up with anything. I say, "I would guess the Golden Gate Bridge, the White House, Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon. Come on. What do you think?" He just kind of shrugs his shoulders, and says, "Uh I've never really thought about it." Are you kidding me? This guy teaches history.

Our first stop on the tour is the Statue. Once we get on dry ground, the security measures are top notch. There are like two separate lines you have to go through just like at the airport just to get up close and personal with Lady Liberty. I know they've really stepped it up since 9/11. I remember coming here at the end of 1999, and the security wasn't anything like this. I don't think we even had to go through a metal detector. Once we make it through the security screening, we decide to inquire about getting to the crown. We ask the guy at the entrance, and he tells us that it's a two month wait to get to the top. If you put the request in today, you'll have tickets for March. Today we will only make it to the outer ledge at the base of the Statue. That's a bummer, but I'm not really too disappointed. Afterall, I didn't even know we were coming to the Statue today. Truthfully, I think Mr. Neurotic is more disappointed than me. He says, "I knew it. There was an option to go to the crown when I bought these tickets on the internet. I should have opted for it." He pops another mint into his mouth. I say, "Don't worry. I'm sure the option was just to reserve tickets for March. There's probably no way you could have gotten tickets to the crown today." He still looks bummed out.

We head inside, and we go through the museum on the history of the Statue. It's weird, but I totally remember the inside from my visit ten years ago. It comes back to me instantly. Mr. Neurotic says, "Well, if this doesn't all fall apart, maybe we can come back for a trip to the crown in March." I'm thinking, "way to think positively with all that negative counterbalance." I tell him that the Statue is just as I remember, and I should make it a ritual to come back and visit once every ten years. Once through the museum, we start the ascent up to see the Statue. I'm really excited, not as excited as the first time I was ever here, but still I have that rush of excited energy to be up close with the green lady of freedom. Once we get to the top, we step out, and there she is--so tall, so proud, so all American. We walk around the ledge taking in all the angles. I ask Mr. Neurotic what he would be doing on a typical Saturday if he weren't on a date. He says, "I try not to be too regimented. Honestly I don't have that many friends. I just don't like meeting people. I think it's the worst thing in the world." Wow. Part of me wonders why he would put himself through the stresses of online dating, but then the other part of me realizes it's probably a much better option than trying to free style it out in the world.

After the Statue, we get back on the boat and head to Ellis Island. Mr. Neurotic has been to Ellis Island once before on a sixth grade field trip. I, on the other hand, have only ever heard about it. It makes me happy because as neurotic as Mr. Neurotic is, he seems to be having a good time on this date. As we approach the door, Mr. Neurotic pops another mint, and I say, "Wow, you really like those mints don't you?" He says, "Well, I'm talking a lot so my mouth is dry." I'm also wondering if it's also a literal concern about his breath. Who knows? As we go in, I find out that Mr. Neurotic's great grandfather came through on Ellis Island. How exciting that is. It's interesting because white people in Texas are all mutts. No one seems to ever know where their family originated from. That goes for my dad's side as well. That being said, I always think it's so awesome that people in New York seem to know exactly what their origins are. Mr. Neurotic tells me that his great grandfather was probably from somewhere in Eastern Europe. As we walk around the museum, I am in awe that a hundred years ago, these rooms were filled with people from all stretches of Europe filled with hope of a better life in the land called America and simultaneous fear that they might not make it in and have to take the long 6 week journey back to their home country. How much would that suck if you got rejected at the gates? Would you not just jump off the boat on the way back?

There's a whole section on mail order brides, and it says that a certain percentage of marriages never took place once the man and woman met each other. I start to wonder if it was more often the men or the women that changed their mind, but then I read that many of the mail order brides met guys on the ship over and ended up marrying them instead. Someone should make a movie about this concept. It would be a huge hit. So we go through all of the displays, and it's all really interesting. I've had a few people tell me Ellis Island is boring, but really how can you say that? This is the history of New York and its people. Some of these people are still alive. This place is rich with heritage. Eventually 5 o'clock rolls around, and it's time for us to exit the museum. I have thoroughly enjoyed it. For what it's worth, I haven't altogether minded the company either. Mr. Neurotic is awkward and obviously anxious, but he's pleasant, a word I use very freely, but there are worse ways to be.

We ride the boat back, and this time it's a lot less crowded. We manage to snag some seats. I notice that Mr. Neurotic sits very close to me. We start talking about dating, and I ask him about his experience. He says honestly being Jewish, he's dated mainly Jewish girls. Even on match.com, he says that Jewish girls tend to target him saying they are looking for a Jewish guy to marry. He also says he's dated his fair share of JAPs (Jewish American Princesses). I find that term to be funny because being from Texas, I'm used to JAP being a derrogatory term for Japanese folks. In any event, I tell him that there are practically no Jewish people in Texas. It's very rare so it was a bit surprising moving to New York. Jewish people are everywhere. Honestly I've only ever dated one Jewish guy, and it was a good experience. It was never serious per se, but back in the summer of 2001 we had that one hot month, and I remember he was so creative and spontaneous. He used to take me on dates to places like the cemetery or a lookout point in the woods or to smoke a waterpipe on his backporch. Because we were never serious, we never had to think about our differences, but I think what really made it work was that he didn't seem neurotic. He seemed free.

OMG, I just had an epiphany. When I used to date guys when I was younger, I used to date them with a sense of abandon. Lately I had been telling myself that the reason I'm single now is because I allowed myself to do this with guys who I obviously wasn't compatible with in the long run...but...darn it. I had so much fun. There's not a single guy on the list that I regret. It's only recently when I've started thinking with marriage in mind that I've started to complicate things. I need to go back to the basics. I need to throw expectations out the window. That's what the Cuban and I were doing that first month. We were quite simply just having fun. I have to stop worrying about what it all means. This is good. This is what they call a revelation. But back to Mr. Neurotic. Yep. He's not that cute, little Jewish guy from summer '01. He is a very nervous New Yorker who now wants to take me for Vietnamese food in Chinatown. This part I am really jazzed for. I love ethnic food, and I have not yet had Vietnamese food in New York so he gets some points for creativity on this one.

We jump in his car, and we head for Mulberry Street. Mr. Neurotic ends up parking the car closer to SoHo than Chinatown, and we start walking. The address is on his phone which has died so he's actually not sure of the exact location. We end up walking all through SoHo, and eventually we make it to Chinatown. I love Chinatown. It's so grimy, and you can get really good cheap eats there. Finally after about an hour of walking, we happen upon a place called Pho Viet Huong. I am so happy to see this sign because I am h to the ungry. Once we get inside, I love it. It's homey and very Chinatown. We get seated and look at the menu. Mr. Neurotic warns me not to get any kind of fish. He says that he doesn't trust any kind of seafood in Chinatown. I decidedly announce that I'm going to have the frog curry. It's my thing that if there is something weird and unusual on a menu I always go for that. I can have chicken or pork anytime. How often do you see a whole section with frog dishes listed? Mr. Neurotic seems skeptical and informs me he'll be having the peppered pork. He's such a safety cat. At this point, this doesn't surprise me.

I tell Mr. Neurotic that I had frog once before when I was in Laos, and then I tell him that I visited Vietnam in 2006, and it was such a lovely country. He says, "Wow, you're sounding really cultured over there. I don't know if I can stand it." Luckily the food arrives, and I am so happy with my choice. The frog is delectable and of course tastes like chicken. Over dinner, Mr. Neurotic breaks it down for me what exactly the problem with the girls he's met on match.com has been. He says they're too dismissive. He says, "They're all searching for this instant connection, and if they don't feel it on the first date, they're ready to move on." I'm trying not to laugh as I feel this description is fitting me to a tee. He goes on, "You can't tell so quickly. I'm the type that likes to grow into a connection. It takes a while. But I don't get these girls who say they would go out again, and then when you call them up they say they didn't feel a spark." Look, I'm not saying he's right or he's wrong. It's true that love can flourish over time, but it's just also been my experience that people who are romantically challenged always serve this line up. And I'm already trying to think what I will say if he calls me in a couple of days and asks for a second date.

After dinner, Mr. Neurotic asks me if I've "had enough of him" or if I would like to continue the date with a drink or some dessert. It's about 9 pm, and honestly I don't have anywhere I have to be so I concede that dessert would be nice. He says we're right near Little Italy so we should get some canollis. Like Ellis Island, this excites me. I have heard of canollis and long associated them with New York, but I have actually never had one so we walk over to Little Italy, and we happen upon the Sambuca Cafe. We order a couple of canollis. I take a bite, and I love it. I really, really do. The creamy center is to die for. As we're talking over dessert, I notice Mr. Neurotic does this thing where when I ask him a question, he answers it, and then he looks at me with a long pause. When I say, "What?" He replies, "Was that the wrong answer?" I'm like, "What are you talking about? There's no right or wrong answer. These are just getting to know you questions." Then I can't resist. I say, "I don't know enough Jewish people to know if this stereotype is true or not, but it seems like a lot of Jewish people are neurotic. Do you find that to be true?" He pauses for a moment, and he says, "Yes, they are all neurotic. What? So you think I'm neurotic?" I don't want to answer it so I just say, "Well, that's what's always portrayed on TV and in movies. I mean look at Woody Allen. He's made a whole career out of portraying a neurotic Jewish guy." And that's when it dawns on me. Mr. Neurotic is kind of like a George Constanza type from Seinfeld. I loved that show, and in moving here I think I was wondering if I would meet any people like the characters on that show. I think I've hit the jackpot.

In any event, Mr. Neurotic is at a high level of excitement by the time the dessert portion rolls around. He is talking really fast about varied and diverse topics and eating rather slowly, and it dawns on me that I don't think he wants the date to end. He seems to be prolonging it, and I am feeling the exact opposite. I'm about ready to get home away from the high anxiety and back to the normal neuroticism that fills my world. Mr. Neurotic drives me home, and I ask him to drop me off a block from where I live quite simply because I don't want him to know where I live. I'm sure he'll get a complex about it, but at this point I don't really care. We bid adieu, and I think about how I am so happy to live in the world I live in, in the New York City that exists today where I am free to choose who I want to love. And that being said I choose to travel down the path paved with moments of fun and instantaneous sparks and not knowing what's at the end of the path but hopefully discovering that the best part of the journey is the trip itself.

Statue of Liberty: http://www.nps.gov/STLI/index.htm
Ellis Island: http://www.nps.gov/elis/index.htm
Pho Viet Huong: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/pho-viet-huong/
Sambuca Cafe: http://www.sambucascafe.com/

Tonight is what it means to be young.

"The more you know who you are and what you want, the less you let things upset you." That is a fabulous quote from one of my favorite movies "Lost in Translation." A world weary Bill Murray tells that to a confused Scarlett Johansson who at 23 expresses that she's just not sure what she's supposed to be. Isn't that a question we've all grappled with, even struggled with at times? I think we live in a society that makes us feel like we have to have it all figured out at age 23--where we're going in life as far as career and love and all the rest. However, I think I was fortunate that when I was 22 years old, I took a poetry class with the most amazing professor I have ever had to this day. On the very last class, he spoke from the heart and reassured us that we did not have to have it all figured out by a certain age, that there was no certain alarm clock on life. Rather things just come to you naturally, and you sort of figure them out through life experience and chance. Where we end up in life is equal parts choice and equal parts coincidence of the moment. I have met and continue to meet 23 year olds on a daily basis who seem to have it all figured out. They're on the path to where they'll be in ten years time. They know where they're going and what they want in life. And I always admire them just a bit, to have such a clear idea of what their life will be or at least what they would like it to be for I think we all know that it never quite turns out as you imagine. But if you're lucky it can be different but just as good or even better than your wildest ponderings could have afforded.

So I'm 32 now. It's been 10 years since I sat in that poetry class feeling like there was no urgency in figuring it all out, and the question at hand is, do I have a better idea of what it is I want in life? I think the answer is absolutely yes. Two distinct social events cued me into this most recently. The first took place about a week ago. I was thrilled and quite surprised when my co-worker informed me that the Rodeo was in town at Madison Square Gardens. At first I didn't think much of it, but as the idea began to settle in I realized that it would be so much fun to go watch something I have seen quite often in my life in a different environment--a NYC environment to be exact. So I convince my roommate Dawn that she has to come to this thing with me. We agree to meet at MSG at 7:30. I am coming straight from my date with the IT Guy. I'm running a bit behind. Dawn texts me, "I think every white person in New York is here tonight." Funny but so true. When I finally arrive at the ticket counter, Dawn and I get our last minute tickets. We head inside the arena, and I can feel the energy and the excitement. There are indeed white people everywhere with cowboy hats, buckles, and boots. For a moment I feel like I'm back in Texas except for the accompaniment of New Yawk accents talking in excited tones of watching the bullriding.

Once the rodeo starts, it's explosive. The bullriders come out one at a time to a roar of applause from the stands. There's loud hip hop and rock music in the background. I'm a bit surprised there's not more country music, but this ain't Texas afterall even though like 90 percent of the bullriders are from Texas. Once the bullriding gets underway, it is complete fun and insanity. The New Yorkers are so into this novelty. They're cheering and really getting into it. On the rare occasions when the bull gets a bit feisty and doesn't go back into the pen right away but instead kicks out a bit, the crowd really gets excited. This whole situation is really surreal. I kind of feel like I'm in a movie. This scenario heightens when Dawn and I begin talking to the two guys sitting next to us. I had noticed them when we first took our seats because we had to squeeze past them to reach the middle of the aisle. That and the fact that they are dressed head to toe in over the top western wear. It's pretty obvious they are not Southerners. Their outfits are way too cheesy to be authentic. But they don't quite seem like they're from New York either. I ask them where they are from. They're from New Jersey, about an hour away. We continue watching the bullriders get bucked and thrown and a select few who hold on for the full 8 seconds. This is always a moment of feverish excitement when it occurs. Eventually one of the guys says, "You know there's a bar in Manhattan that has a mechanical bull." I say, "Yeah, it's on the lower east side, right?" It's funny that the two guys I have really liked in this whole dating experiment--The Writer and The Cuban--both on occasion mentioned this bar to me. Jersey Boy #1 says, "Yeah, it's called the Mason Dixon." He asks Dawn and me if we want to go after the rodeo. I say, "I'll go." I really like this situation. To me, it's so New York meeting random guys at the rodeo and deciding to go ride a mechanical bull afterwards. If I were in a relationship, I wouldn't be able to do this so easily.

So the rodeo ends, and we take a cab down to the LES. There's a long line in front of the Mason Dixon. Apparently everyone is really excited to ride this bull. And then it occurs to me. People always like things that are different. Just as New York has always fascinated me for its diversity and its quirks, I think Texan type things fascinate the mind of the native New Yorker. Eventually we make it into the bar, and there's another long line to ride the bull. It's fun though because you can totally watch everyone else riding as you're waiting. As I'm watching, I notice that the majority of participants are female, and the act of riding the bull is kind of sexual in nature. You're probably wondering how things are going with the Jersey Boys by this point. Well, it turns out they are brothers separated by only one year. Jersey Boy #2 in particular has taken a liking to me and offered to pay for my bull ride. I don't much want to accept. These guys are goofuses. Granted they are not small town boys from Texas who I spent many years trying to escape from. Rather they are small town boys from New Jersey who are just as bad with their small town views and narrow mentality. They do things like belittle cab drivers and make fun of others for no apparent reason. These are the guys who never outgrew high school. And here I am with my roommate Dawn and them about to go bull riding. When we finally make it to the front of the line, I beg to go first. I always love going first because that way I can sit back and enjoy watching everyone else do the same thing.

I walk up to the guy who's operating the bull. I give him $5. Luckily the Jersey Boys are distracted, and I am able to pay for my own bull ride. The operator tells me to grip the bull with my left hand and raise my right hand in the air and sit as close to the head as possible. I lean in and say, "Be gentle," and he tells me he will. I hop on the bull, and I give the guy the thumbs up. The bull starts moving and slowly starts turning and bucking, and it's super fun. I feel like I could stay on the thing all night, and the crowd is cheering. It's so communal. But it doesn't last forever. Eventually I start to feel myself slide off, and I decide to do the graceful thing and fling myself off full force onto the bouncy mat below. I'm not sure how long I stayed on. It was at least 8 seconds but probably not much longer than that. Afterwards, Dawn goes, and she manages to stay on for a while, too. I wholeheartedly think riding a mechanical bull is something everyone should try at least once in their life kind of like skydiving or getting married. I know I had always wanted to try this, and it's a bit ironical that New York would be the place it would happen. Eventually it's the Jersey Boys' turn to take a stab at bullriding. I think the fact that they are so dressed up in cowboy gear is setting the bar at an unfairly high margin, and the crowd is really expecting a show. Sadly, Jersey Boy #1 gets on the bull, and as soon as the thing starts moving he pretty much topples off. There is a loud sigh of disappointment. Jersey Boy #2 gives it a go, and it is more of the same. He gets the crowd really amped waving his hat and then quickly tumbles to the mat as soon as the bull starts to turn just a bit. These guys are so dorky. Lucky my 8 seconds and one New York minute with these guys is up!!

Just this past weekend I went to a social gathering that was entirely different. Everyone is familiar with the oddities and randomness that Facebook can offer. You end up connecting with people who you haven't seen in like a decade and some who you may never see again. It's a weird social tool that I found myself joining just this past May. I try to not be one of those people with 500 friends. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but just honestly I don't have 500 friends that I could name offhand. In short, I try to keep my friends list to people I've actually met and shared an experience with in person. That's just my personal preference. That being said, I had recently reconnected with an old friend from college Vance. I adored Vance back in the day. I remember he was such a fun gay man and such a good listener and well I always thought we had nice exchanges. He moved to NYC about 8 years ago, and I hadn't seen him since. When I found out I was moving to NYC I found him on Facebook, and when I got an invitation to attend his birthday party at the hot gay night spot Therapy in Hell's Kitchen I was so there. I ended up inviting a few girlfriends and off we went.

It's Friday night, and five past 8:30. The girls and I arrive in front of Therapy. I give Vance a call to find out if he's already inside, and he tells me he's approaching and should be there in about five minutes. I'm excited to see him. It's been practically a decade, but I guess you know you're getting older when 8 years feels like just a drop in the bucket. After a few minutes, I spot him coming with a group of friends. I wave, and then we go to hug each other. I say, "I haven't seen you in so long. You were like 23 the last time I saw you. You haven't changed a bit." He looks at me and says, "You haven't changed a bit either, Carole." It's official. I feel really old. Only old people have conversations with people about not changing a bit. But I think it's something we have to all accept. You cannot stay 23 forever, and I think part of aging gracefully is to naturally let go of each phase without thrashing about and clinging on to bygone eras. After the nifty introductions all around, we head inside. I remember coming to Therapy on Halloween. It's a posh gay club with tons of good looking guys milling about. These places always did make me feel like being a diabetic in a candy shop, and you know what? They still do.

We settle in, order some food and drinks, and I catch up with Vance for a bit. He really hasn't changed that much in appearance, and yet I can see he's evolved so much in his life, much like myself. It's amazing to sit with someone and be instantly taken back to the moment in time when you knew them and yet simultaneously know that you have each had over a thousand random experiences that you'll never know about. Life is interesting that way. But it's easy to talk to him, and as a result I'm hoping I'll see more of him now that we're both in the City. He tells me that seeing me makes him remember the energy of being new to the City and the sheer excitement of seeing everything and experiencing everything. I can't imagine having moved to NYC when I was 23. It was definitely an option. I definitely thought about it right after college, but I had to make my own path at the time. I think the outcome would have been extrememly exciting and probably totally different than where I am now, but that's the part we have to be okay with in life. We can't really wonder about those parallel universes floating around filled with the alternative paths we would have taken. The only path we can afford to think about is this one now that we're on because this is real. This is life.

So the food comes, and it's actually quite tasty. We have some chicken fajitas and calamari. I'm drinking an apple martini, and my roommate Dawn who has been reading my blog comments that I write a lot about drinking apple martinis and eating calamari. That's funny because here I go again mentioning it. The other drinks on the menu all have clever names related to the concept of therapy. They are called things like the bi-polar, the anorexic, the nervous breakdown, etc. I have an 'absolute therapy' that is just outrageously delicious. We meet some random people. There's one guy in particular who is quite interesting. He's there with his boyfriend, and he plops down and talks to us girls. We get on the topic of men, and he asks me which kinds of men I have had as lovers. I say caucasian, Asian, and Latin, and I say so far Latin was the best. He tells me that British men are surprisingly good lovers, and he also says that Latin men are very passionate, but they can easily transfer that passion from one woman to another. I think about it, and I exchange looks with Dawn. This all sounds very familiar as of late. But I've been thinking about it, and maybe a Latin guy would suit me well. Sure it didn't really work out with the Cuban, but there are so many Latin men in NYC, and they're filled with such passion and color and zest for life. Regardless of the race, I need a man who has the get up and go to really live life.

After Therapy, we head a couple of blocks over to Rockit, an unabashedly gay dance club. I am so excited. It's my first one in NYC. I've been to tons in LA and even Austin, but the endpoint is that it's been far too long. We go in, and the music's great. We dance, we get drinks, we dance some more. At one point, this guy pulls me into dance with him, and we're having a good time. He's really cute. He has on the nerdy glasses, and he's a bit hipsterish. I'm totally thinking, "Why are all the good ones gay?" Just then one of my friends pulls me over and says, "Carole, that guy was just saying how cute he thought you were." But isn't he gay? We go back to dancing, and I can't help myself. I say, "Are you gay?" He looks surprised, and he says, "I'm bi." Hmm...I'm actually considering it for a moment when one of my friends pulls me away again, and when I turn back around he's heading to the bar with his friend. There was such a story there. I wanted to know more. Not that I would seriously go for it. Afterall, I've been down that road before, and it usually turns out the same way. Not in my favor. In any event though, I wanted to find out more about him. I wanted to at least know his name. I wanted to dance with him some more. Dancing is such a powerful exercise. You can feel so connected with someone without ever exchanging very many words.

And it was after thinking about these two random occurrences in my life that I came to the conclusion that I do know what I want in life. I want a boyfriend. Yes, I am proclaiming it right here and now. However, I don't want just any boyfriend. That would be too easy and really uncomplicated. I want a boyfriend who I can do everything with and who will do everything with me. You see, I would have loved to have shared the experience of going to the rodeo with a special guy who would cheer on the bullriders and kiss me in the stands. But I would want that same guy to be comfortable enough to go to a birthday party with me at a gay club. One who would sit by my side and eat calamari and then go gay dancing with me and the girls. It's a tall order I know, but basically these are just very specific examples of me saying I want someone who is going to fit into a variety of different social situations because I am so diverse in my selections. I want someone who will mesh well with my friends and be open to trying any new experience, and in turn I want to be able to mesh with his friends and do things he likes to do. I'm looking for that guy, and when I find him I don't think I will have trouble committing in the least because someone like that would be more than a boyfriend. He would be my best friend, and I guess that is the one thing I really want to find in all of this.

Dawn asked me an interesting question the other day. She said, "If you met another guy in this experience who was different than the Cuban, but the energy and excitement level was the same, would you do anything differently?" Without hesitating I said, "Yes. Most definitely." I say this because I think I learned a lot from the Cuban. I realized I had fears left over from my past of getting hurt, of getting too serious, of falling in love and having it not work out. I've said it before, but I definitely think sometimes God puts people in our lives to show us things at certain times. Maybe it wasn't meant to work out with the Cuban forever, but I think he was clearly placed in my life so I could see the way I would react while still in the fear stage. I've always been a big believer that we can't let getting hurt in the past inhibit us from living fully in the moment, but inevitably that's just what I did. Maybe it would have dissolved on its own a year or two down the road, and maybe that's what I was trying to avoid, but I don't want to be the kind of person that tries to avoid life. It was given to us to enjoy and to explore, and so to answer Dawn's question, that's what I would do differently next time. I would be looser, freer, and less worried about a guarantee that it'll work out quite simply because several weeks into the new year I see that everything is working out. I'm gonna be okay. I get lonely sometimes, and I do wish I had someone I could call up at any moment of the day just to say "hey", but moreso than not those moments are drowned out by enjoyment of things I wanna be doing and people I enjoy being around. And I'll never find my best friend/boyfriend/lover if I don't keep searching and keep remembering exactly who I am and what I want. But then again very few things in life upset me these days so maybe that means I'm closer than ever to really being who I'm supposed to be and being able to offer that up to someone to really love.

Mason Dixon: http://masondixonnyc.com/
Therapy: http://www.therapy-nyc.com/

Date #21--Mr. Quickie

There are many places in New York City that I would like to visit. Let's face it. The City is filled with all kinds of restaurants, parks, bars, lounges, clubs, art galleries, museums, etc. But I have to admit that museums are at the top of my list of places I would like to see. Thus, recently I had come up with the idea to start killing two birds with one stone, well, actually three. So far I have been very fortunate to try a wide array of different restaurants, the majority sushi joints yes, but still excellent cuisine and places I have never been. And now I've come to the conclusion that I definitely want to try to suggest an activity for my dates so that I'm getting to experience something of the City while I'm getting to know a new person. Plus, it's a little known fact that sitting at a dinner table for 5 hours and talking is not the only way to get to know someone. It's definitely one way, but I think seeing how people fit into different environments and how you interact while doing something is also a crucial determinant. With that thinking I have decided to suggest museum trips. There are so many in NYC alone. At the top of my list is the Cloisters. This is a division of the MET that is located at the most northern tip of Manhattan.

I have been really excited to go see this because I have heard it is absolutely beautiful so when Mr. Quickie came up in the rotation, I figured why not. He seemed open to the idea. The only thing was that he requested that I meet him in Union Square which is near to where he lives so that we could go together. He wrote, "I don't know my way around up there, and I'm afraid I might get lost." Okay, that might pass as an excuse except for the fact that he's lived here for 3 years. That's 2 and a half years longer than me, and I know he's local enough by now to know how to use 'NYC transit' on the internet. When I lodge this complaint with my roommate Dawn, she reminds me that afterall we are going on a date, and the whole point is to get to know each other so maybe he just wants to ride on the train together so we can get some talk time in. This makes sense, and I soften. I write back suggesting we meet at the Starbucks in Union Square because it is very centrally located. He writes back, "Which one? East or West?" I write back, "I only know the one next to Au Bon Pain so that one." He writes back that he'll meet me there at 1 pm on Sunday. Call me crazy, but I'm not getting a good vibe about this guy. He just seems a bit clingy, a bit needy. I know our exchanges haven't been that detailed, but I think I'm fairly instinctual when it comes to people. I can read them, and I generally know if I click with them quickly.

It's Sunday at 1 pm, and I am waiting in front of Starbucks. This brings back memories. Several dates back I met Mr. Handsome here for our little rendevous, and of course, this is the Starbucks that is right next door to the Au Bon Pain I went to for my very first date so many moons ago. A couple of minutes pass, and I start to fear that maybe my date is waiting at the wrong Starbucks. I start to pull my phone out when all of a sudden I see a guy approaching. He sort of resembles the profile pic, but he's wearing a ski hat and glasses so he looks a bit different. He says, "What's your name?" I say, "Carole." He says, "Oh, hey, I'm Mr. Quickie (insert real name)." We hug, and he suggests that we go into Starbucks and get some coffee first. I agree. I say, "Are you a big coffee drinker?" He says, "Yeah, but if you're not you can get hot chocolate or something." We get to the counter, and I actually take his advice and decide to get a hot chocolate. He orders a gingerbread latte. Once we get our drinks, we look around for a table, but most of them are taken. We find one with a bunch of trash and spilled drinks, and Mr. Quickie suggests that we can at least have a seat.

Once we're situated we start getting to know each other. Mr. Quickie seems very on edge. He wants to get things moving. He wants to find out what I'm about, what I'm looking for. I remember initially when I was setting up the date with him, I had requested that we hold off for a couple of weeks just simply because one of my other prospective dates mentioned that he had tickets to the Brooklyn Museum for a special screening of a Rolling Stones documentary that was only playing on a certain day. Mr. Quickie refused to switch dates replying back, "I can't wait that long to see you. I only signed up on match.com for a month, and I don't plan on becoming a regular." Okay, 'I can't wait that long to see you'? Dude, we've never even met. I think your world will go on turning if we don't meet for two more weeks, but nonetheless I have obliged and put him at the top of the list. Therefore, this is the first thing I want to discuss, and so I say, "I found it interesting when you mentioned that you didn't plan on staying on match.com for very long." He immediately remembers his comment and starts explaining, "Oh yeah, I don't have the time to be on match.com for very long. I need to just get in and meet the women with potential and then narrow it down and find someone to date." He's very cut and dry, and he has a very precise plan. I say, "So when did you join?" He says, "About a week ago." I say, "Have you been on a ton of dates? Have you been like double booking them?" And he slyly smiles and says, "Something like that." I say, "So approximately how many dates do you think you've been on in the last week?" He thinks for a moment, and he says, "Probably 10 or so." Wow, I thought I was racking up the dates, but Mr. Quickie has me beat by a long shot. And let me let you in on a little secret. If I didn't have so much going on in my life, I might do the same thing. Dating is fun, and if I were only working and didn't have school and stuff I might totally go on a date every night. I probably would have passed 50 long ago, but that would also entail a ton of just coffee dates or maybe a light meal. Sure maybe it's enough to tell if there's a connection or not, but I guess I know enough about myself to know it's just not my style.

And so Mr. Quickie looks at me, and he asks, "So how about you? How many dates have you been on?" I say, "Well, I've been on about 20, but I've been on match.com for about 3 months." He immediately chimes in, "Have you had any luck?" I say, "Well, not so much. I don't know that I would necessarily recommend the service. I really haven't felt much of a spark with any of the guys I've met on match.com." Mr. Quickie seems almost defensive and quickly asks, "So what was wrong with all of these guys? What were they missing?" I reply, "Well, I think it comes down to chemistry. There was nothing wrong with them per se. I just didn't feel that spark." Mr. Quickie seems to want to challenge me on this, and he immediately begins a diatribe about how you can't just dismiss these guys after one date and how do you even know if the chemistry is there after one date. He's very argumentative. I say, "Well, out of the 10 women you went out with, how many are you going out with on a second date?" He thinks for a moment and says, "Two." I say, "Okay, so you've had about a 20 percent success rate. What was wrong with the other 8 women? What were they missing?" He thinks for a moment, and he sees that he has the exact same philosophy as me. He says, "Okay, maybe you have a point there."

Mr. Quickie has a very precise plan for his life as a whole. He is a software engineer, a college professor, and now currently a published author. He has set many goals for himself and apparently reached them all. He tells me that he was never interested in meeting anyone before because he was so focused on getting where he wanted in life. He felt a relationship would have been a distraction and so he wanted to wait until he was in exactly the perfect time in his life where he could focus on that and where that would add something rather than detract from his life. It's all so ordered and mannered, and perhaps that's why this date more than any of the others seems like a job interview, but this time I'm not the one doing the interviewing because I already know I am not interested in this guy. Instead he is the one doing all the penetrating and prying, and I'm okay with it. I have nothing to hide, and the most liberating part is that I don't really care if I pass the screening test and get to the second date or not. I am not the kind of woman that would suit Mr. Quickie. Maybe in some manner I am being very calculated by going on match.com and setting up dates and then writing about them, but I am not looking for a guy to fit in a tiny little cubby hole in my life. I'm looking for someone to share my life with. Mr. Quickie doesn't want a life partner. He wants a name to put into his daily planner under date night. That's not love. That's convenience.

The hour is moving on, and I seriously have to pee so I excuse myself to go to the restroom. When I return I say, "Okay, so are we heading to the Cloisters or what?" Mr. Quickie says, "Yeah, I can't make it to the Cloisters today. I just got a call from my brother. His fiancee broke up with him so I need to go be with him." I can't believe it. This guy is totally lying. Maybe he's not, but he so totally is. Here's the deal. If you have to get out of something, always go with the simple lie. The more detailed it is, the more obvious it is that you've put a lot of thought into it and are totally lying. Should be the other way around, but it's not. I just say, "Okay, so like do you have to leave right now or..." And he says, "Probably in another 15 minutes." I can't believe it even more. He's actually timing it so that we can wrap things up, and he can be on his way after the screening date. This guy organizes everything right down to the fake exit. What a douche. So I say, "What would a typical Sunday be like for you if you weren't on a date? How do you usually spend your time?" He contemplates, and then he says, "I would probably be at home working on stuff or doing something I was interested in. I wouldn't be going to the Cloisters. I'm sorry, but I have no interest in going to the Cloisters. What about you?" I say, "If I weren't on a date I'd probably be out and about doing something. Maybe going to the Cloisters regardless." OH EM GEE, this guy is practically confessing that he just lied to get out of the date early because he didn't want to do what I suggested. Now keep in mind because he is so anal retentive, we had a lengthy email exchange, longer than most, leading up to this date. At any point he could have simply come clean and suggested doing something else. He didn't have to elaborately scheme and lie and make me waste my time sitting at Starbucks. And that's when I know as if I didn't already that this guy is a waste. He's fickle, difficult, and above all he's a liar. That is an absolute deal breaker for me. I don't tolerate liars and so at this point I know I'm over it. I'm just going along with the ending for shits and giggles. I say, "We didn't have to go to the Cloisters. You could have suggested something else. What do you usually do on your dates?" He says, "Coffee or go to dinner. Talk." That's simple enough. I just say, "Well, that's too bad. We could have done that if you had said something."

I get the impression he's trying to salvage something when he leans in, and he says, "Look you're a nice, cute girl. I'd like to get to know you better. What's your schedule like this week? Let's get together and go to dinner." Sorry, buddy. Too little, too late, and too much info already absorbed for me to know this is not a love connection. I just say, "Well, honestly I'm pretty busy dating so I already have dates lined up for next weekend. You know how that goes." He takes it in and smiles kind of realizing what has happened. He says, "Alright, well, I'm gonna text you my number, and you just let me know what your schedule's like and if we could get together sometime." I smile and say, "Okay." We exit Starbucks, and walk to the corner. Mr. Quickie is going in the opposite direction to console his "brother." We hug goodbye, and that's that. I feel a wave of relief roll over me. Sure I didn't make it to the Cloisters, but I will eventually, and I'm sure it'll be with a guy who actually doesn't mind being there and who I don't mind being there with.

This has been my shortest date so far rivaled only by my very first one with The Zoo Guy. As I stand in front of Au Bon Pain, it's almost hard for me to phathom that it took place 20 dates ago. It seems like so much has happened academically, professionally, and personally. I'm about to enter my second semester of graduate school. I have acquired a great full time job in Midtown. And I've had a stunning interaction with a charismatic Cuban that changed my view on this experiment and a lot of things. I'm officially in a new season and will soon be entering a different one as I continue progressing in my dates and eventually finish them. Am I a different person from that first Saturday when I nervously anticipated meeting my first stranger for a date to where I am now where I casually meet strangers on a regular basis every week, glimpsing little sections of their lives and realizing I'll probably never see most of them again? I would say I'm infinitely different. I'm growing more into my own skin and confidence within myself to just be with each passing date. Even though I am a deep thinker, and I do subconciously analyze everything, I think the greatest learning I took away from the Cuban is to maybe sometimes just live and let live. You don't have to figure out everything in the moment. You don't have to constantly ask questions because sometimes the answers can only happen naturally in due time. And sometimes if you try to figure out too much too soon, you may end up losing the beauty of the moment.

I anticipate another great interaction of some sort before all is said and done, and when that moment occurs, I think I'll take it a lot easier. Keep it a lot more loose. Well, since my day is freed up, I end up getting back on the train and heading to my neighborhood. It's such a nice sunny day, and I don't quite feel like heading home just yet so I walk over to the South Street Seaport. It is so very lovely and peaceful on this particular day. There aren't a lot of tourists because the high season has now passed, and I find a seat on one of the benches looking out over the Hudson River. The Brooklyn Bridge is beaming to my left, and I can see buildings across the way. In this moment I feel happy, beyond content even. Yes, I love dating, but I am so not addicted to it. I realize that when this project is over, and my dating life takes on a slower, more sporadic pace, I'll be totally fine with it. I remember over New Year's weekend I just spent my time hanging out with friends and doing stuff I wanted to do. It was great. And once I evaluate this, I come to the realization that I think I'm okay. I think I'm doing alright in life. I'm just a girl in the world looking for love sometimes in seemingly right places and sometimes in terribly wrong ones, but at the end of the day I have just as much enjoyment sittin' on the dock of the bay watching ships sail away. It ain't a bad life for a girl from Texarkana, TX, who only ever wanted to see what else was out in the world. I may not have found my other half just yet, but I sure have found my center.

Starbucks: http://www.starbucks.com/