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/