50 First Dates in NYC

Addendum--A Woman's Right to Write

2011-07-01T01:03:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends, Lovers, Neighbors, and Other Strangers,

I'm back. It's been awhile since I've posted a blog entry or even pulled up the function to create a new one. It's been over 13 months to be exact so I have to admit that this seems oddly surreal. Where we last left off I was skipping off on a Sunday afternoon to go meet the Brit to begin what would be the next long chapter in my New York experience completely off the page. You may ask then why am I suddenly back on the page. Well, there are a few reasons, but first I suppose I should give you a brief catch-up session. When I wrote my last blog entry, I was crazy about the Brit. I really had genuine faith that I had met the guy that would fulfill me on all levels. I didn't feel like I had to keep dating or writing about it any longer. I was happy on that Sunday afternoon, and I wish I could report that the whole scenario had been my happy ever after, but instead it turned out to be a life lesson, a growing pain and experience all at once, but above all a chapter that I neither regret nor hold as the be all end all in my life or this blog. Let me give you a quick little rundown.

So essentially we met up, we reconnected, it felt like magic, and we proceeded to spend an incredible summer together. We did everything two people on the path to togetherness do. We continued to explore the City, we spent Sundays in bed together, we met on our lunch breaks to steal little moments of our day away just for each other, and essentially we fell in love. At least, I know that he did because on July 4th while we were vacationing in Nicaragua, he blurted out those words--I love you. It was powerful and unexpected, and I don't really know if I was truly, fully in love with him just yet, but I said it back anyway. And speaking of Nicaragua, that's the other thing we did together. We traveled together. We went there, Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador. It was amazing because he was actually an excellent travel partner, and this truly delighted and impressed me because as you may know I am absolutely addicted to travel and can't really see myself being with someone who doesn't share that passion as well. It's even better yet if a guy is able to rough it and travel bare bones and really immerse himself into the cultural experience of it all. Anywho, the other thing that we also did throughout the course of the summer was that we fought. We fought really early on, and I think within a couple of months I found myself realizing that this just did not feel like a perfect fit for me. The Brit was great in so many ways. He was open to adventure, he had a bit of that Bohemian spirit that I dig so much, he was a good lover, and he could be entirely sweet sometimes. However, despite all of the positives, for some reason I just did not feel that we clicked on an interpersonal level. We didn't laugh together a lot. So many times I would tell a joke, and he would just give me a blank stare that I now refer to as "the death stare." I am a giant goofball, and he rarely ever laughed at anything. Also, he would get so offended if I playfully teased him. It's like he didn't realize that when I like someone I like to crack on them. Instead he would get upset. Yeah, completely incompatible as you can see. By the end of summer I just started to feel overwhelmingly that we were doing all these fun things, but the true connection you needed to share with someone in order to make the experiences meaningful in the moment rather than just reflectively in pictures was not there.

However, the biggest deficit in our relationship was our inability to communicate. I realized very early on that the Brit was not the kind of guy who could just agree to disagree. If I had a difference of opinion, he always became defensive and felt like I was saying he was a terrible person when in actuality I was just quite simply having an opinion. The worst was when he would get mad. He would completely shut down, and the world would go on a pause until he was over it. This might be 20 minutes, 2 hours, or 2 days. One could never tell, and over time these communication break-downs really wore on my psyche. We ended up calling it a day in September, and honestly that's where his little chapter should have ended. Instead, we did what a lot of couples do. We fell into a yo-yo cycle of being together but not being together. There was still a lot of love and care between us. I told him he was my best friend, but really I don't think that he ever was because I never felt like he really understood me or appreciated my quirks.

We continued to explore the City, spend Sundays in bed together, and travel to Niagara Falls, Atlantic City, Boston, Connecticut, and DC throughout the fall and winter. There were definitely flashes of merit. It was definitely not all bad...but it definitely was not all good. The fighting continued until I started to forget what I was so drawn to or why I wanted to keep dating this guy. I guess that is what sometimes happens when you're involved in something that you're not quite sure is right for you or not. You keep hanging in thinking it might get better and thinking about the investment and the closeness you have already created, and you start to get sad about the person possibly not being in your life anymore.

Things really hit a wall near the beginning of the year. The Brit had landed a new job and would be relocating to DC. This seemed like the turning point. I was either going to stay on board and ride this out, or I was going to get off of the bi-polar roller coaster ride that we had become. I remember the last trip we ever took together to DC in February. It was just awful. We were fighting the whole weekend, and I began to get really sad because traveling had always been the one thing we shared. We never seemed to be able to make it work in the day to day interactions of just being with one another, but we truly excelled at getting away from it all. I think when I put two and two together on that I started to realize that we were only successful in a fantasy world. We did not have the interpersonal connection or the communication necessary to survive longterm. That's why the weekend in DC was especially devastating. The apect of fun weekends away together that we had always shared was now gone, and I knew that things needed to end.

That's why on Valentine's Day they did. I remember I arrived home the night before Valentine's Day to a heart shaped box of chocolates sitting in front of the door. If things had been good between us, I would have loved this and thought this such a sweet gesture. However, I think reading one's gut is always a useful skill. My gut reaction to seeing the box of chocolates was anguish and sadness. This little red box came to symbolize me compromising myself in this interaction. I know it sounds melodramatic, but I started to see a whole big picture event inside my head where I realized if I didn't summon my courage up to end things, every Valentine's Day afterwards I would walk into Duane Reade and see that aisle full of red, heart shaped boxes of chocolates and feel like they were the reason I had continued to stay in this interaction that was so devastatingly obviously wrong for me at this point. I could just imagine myself trashing the aisle in torment, and so the sensible part of me gathered myself together and decided to call it a day with the Brit the next night over a sushi dinner in Midtown. He was sad but accepting. As I rode the subway home, I felt empty. I should have felt free, but instead I felt heartbroken. Even though I was the one who ultimately ended it, it was proof to me that the Brit had gotten to me. Despite all of the imperfections of us as a unit, I had fallen in love with him, and he had become an integral part of my life for the past year. Nonetheless I felt in my heart I had made the right choice.

When I arrived home, the Brit texted me that we should go away for the following weekend which was a three day holiday. I was a bit taken aback because we had just spent two hours discussing how this was not right. Don't think I didn't contemplate it because I really did, but ultimately I had a desperate desire to move on. I said no, and that was that. He removed himself from my phone, and I felt completely alone. That is the worst moment--when a relationship officially ends and you realize that the space that used to house everything you shared, all the intimacy, love, passion, and care is now just a vacant space that can no longer be traversed.

Honestly we tried to be friends immediately after, but there's a reason they say you should not try to be friends right after. I think doing that kills the chance to be friends in the future so take my advice that if you break up with someone, and you'd like to have them in your life later on give it at least a few months. We did not do this, and things just went from bad to worse. I found out he started dating someone and was taking them on a weekend trip away a couple of weeks later at the end of February. I really didn't have any right to be jealous especially since I was the one who had told him I didn't see a future for us. Nonetheless, this was devastating to me. I know that for some people the only way to get over someone is to become completely immersed with someone else. I'm not passing any judgments here, but I am completely the opposite. I definitely need a period of grieving and separation. I was dumbfounded as to how he could have formed this connection with someone new so quickly, and then I found out it hadn't been so sudden at all. He had actually met this girl in November. I suddenly had that feeling of "was anything between us real?" I know we had our problems, but the entire last three months I had been continuing to invest and trying to see if there was a way for it to work, and I only did this because he appeared to be doing the same. He continued to ask me to be a part of his life in DC, to come with him to visit his family in England. Perhaps people say things in desperate moments in hoping to save something, but it seems unfair when the entire last three months he was creating a back-up plan for himself.

Well, whatever the matter. It was out of my hands so I moved on. We stopped speaking, and then in April the most unexpected turn of events happened. I got a random text from my friend who told me she ran into the Brit at the engagement party of a mutual friend. I asked why he was there, and it turns out the new girl he is dating is co-workers with the engaged friend. I was flabbergasted. Are you serious? Of all the women in New York City, he's dating someone who's only two degrees of separation away from me?? I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone or more specifically my hometown. I left my small hometown in Texas to avoid circular situations like this, but nonetheless it was happening right here in this giant metropolis. New York City can feel so tiny sometimes. Further, I thought the Brit had moved to DC in April. Why was he still lingering about on the outskirts? It turns out he's now in a full fledged long distance relationship with this chick. I had an A-HA moment. He found someone to do it. I was so opposed to the long distance thing just because I felt that those rarely ever work, but when they do it's a situation that has an endpoint in sight that is built on mutual honesty, trust, and communication. Obviously we did not have the makings to be successful in that. We could barely make it work with him living in Brooklyn. But I found myself hoping that he had found someone that was better suited to him in all regards and that he was happy.

What really creeped me out though was how insanely close to my inner world this outside girl was. You know how when you discover some information after the fact, you find yourself replaying all those moments from the past in your mind, and you start to put two and two together. Once I did that, I knew exactly the night in November he had met her at a bar. I knew because after that night everything changed and we fought more and I could sense that he was less invested. Then I started to wonder if when he gave me my Christmas present with the note attached if he had given her a similar note as well. It turns out me and this girl were even at the same New Year's Eve party by way of the co-worker that we both know. I started to wonder if when he was texting a message to me on New Year's Eve saying "I love you" if he was doing the same for her. And I wondered if when he left that heart shaped box on my doorstep the night before Valentine's if he gave her the same heart shaped box only in person because he was actually spending the night with her. It's thoughts like this that really make you feel gross. And in the end I started to wonder what she had that I didn't. Why was she the one that was now in this loving and committed long distance relationship with the Brit when I had struggled for months to make it work on any functional level. The conclusion I came to is that I don't think it had anything to do with me. The base bottom line is probably that she is someone who is much more compatible with him, who can handle his mood swings or is somehow able to not bring it out of him, and someone who is entirely happy to be with him. That was never me, and because of that when I heard about my friend's run-in with him I was happy to hear that he was doing well, and I had nothing but good thoughts about him. My friend mentioned that he asked about me and had nothing but good things to say about me as well. I had hope that we might actually be friends someday.

Then...it happened. Sorry for the long pre-story, but I thought it was important for you to hear about the complexity surrounding this interaction so that you can be just as appalled as I was by what unfolded. A couple of days after the Brit ran into my friend, he emails me with a message entitled, "Favour." Basically he goes onto explain that after the run-in with my friend, his girlfriend asked how he and I met, and he ended up telling her about this here little blog. She pulled up the blog and read it, and she was upset, and he wanted to know if I would take my blog offline. What???? Is he for serious???? That was my gut reaction to that. I didn't respond immediately as I really needed to think on this. I hadn't heard from the Brit in months, and now he gets in touch to ask me to do a favor for him because what he said made his new girlfriend upset? I may not be the brightest bulb, but this just did not make any sense to me. A few hours later, he calls and leaves a message. Obviously it's pretty important for him to make sure this blog comes down. I'm thinking, "What's the rush? It's been online for over a year." When we finally talk, the Brit is cold and abrasive. I ask him if I can have a few days to think about his request because let's face it. I so clearly do not want to take my blog down. I don't even want to entertain the idea because this is not something I had an inclination to do on my own. He becomes hostile and tells me that if I don't take the blog down he's going to "make things very difficult for me." Ok, this clearly sounds like a threat. The only reason I'm not that scared is because he's British. If he were in the mafia or something I might be a bit alarmed, but he's just some guy from England. I ask him what this means, and I can sense that he has realized what this sounded like. He sort of retracts and says, "I just mean that if I see you in a social situation I'll be very cold to you." Umm...the last time I checked we're not even talking, and further this interaction is pretty straight up ice cold so what exactly is at stake here? I honestly had that sinking feeling of once having shared so much with someone now feeling like I never really knew him at all. Was it possible that I had been so in love with someone who would ask this of me?

In any event, I thought about it. Much to my chagrin I took the blog down. I know you're asking "Why?????" Or maybe you're not, but I'll tell you. In that moment, it came down to one question. What kind of interaction did I want to have with the Brit in the future? Did I see us being friends? Did I want him to be a part of my life? At the time, the answer was yes to both of those. I still thought fondly of him (yes, surprisingly even after that mildly explosive interaction). My feeling is that when you break up with someone you don't hold onto all the hurt and regret that was there at the end. Instead you hold onto the love you shared and the meaning that the person brought to your life. I met the Brit for a reason. I was with him trying to make it work with him for the better part of a year for a reason. There was obviously some energy between us, and despite anything that has happened since, I still do not believe him to be a bad person. I think he's quite a good person. He just has some issues when he does not get what he wants. Anyway, that was my thinking, and I decided to take the blog down at least while I fully processed if his request was valid or not.

These were the primary things that came up for me and what made me so incredibly annoyed with his request. First of all, the whole time we were dating he was always the type of person who abided by a "less is more" rule when it came to talking about past relationships. He said we didn't need the explicit detail. Why then did he feel the need to tell his new girlfriend that I even did this blog and also the exact name of it? Of course, she's gonna go read it. It's a woman's instinct. I know that I would have pulled it up within five minutes of hearing about it. She asked how we met. Couldn't he have just said on match.com because that is the long and short of it as far as I'm concerned. His argument is that this blog is out there, and even if it doesn't work out with this girl it's always gonna be there for him to have to explain, and he doesn't want to be a part of it. Well, my feeling about that is to let this be a learning lesson. He let too much info slip this time so be more careful in the future. Also, things are stable with this new girl now so hopefully this is not an issue. What really peeves me is that I think the Brit wants to have this great story of being in the blog because let's face it, it is kind of an interesting story, but then to not have to be accountable by having any other girls go read about it for themselves if it's hidden.

The other thing I never understood was why this girl was even upset. First of all, none of us are 15 years old here. We all have a history. I wasn't the Brit's first girlfriend, and clearly I'm not the last so I don't think she should be upset by anything we shared that took place a year ago. That's not important. What matters is that he's with her now giving her his time, attention, love, care, passion, and all of that. That's all that should matter. I'm clearly not a threat. We're not on speaking terms, and clearly she doesn't have anything I any longer want. Everyone has a past. As my good friend once said, "The past is not what's important. It's that it doesn't affect your present or your future." But I've always been a big believer in appreciating one's history, in looking back fondly on the things you gained and learned from your love affair with someone. In retrospect, I don't know if the girl was more upset about my blog and the history we had shared or about finding out there was overlap between me and her. I seriously doubt she knew I was on the scene when he met her in November, and I can imagine that finding that out took something away from her first three months with him just as me finding out about her took something away from my last three months with him. All I can say is, that's life. People make choices, and interactions sometimes become less and sometimes become more than what you originally intended.

That being said, after 10 and a half weeks of sitting silently and letting my blog lie dormant, I've realized that I want to put my blog back online. I want to preface my reasons with a little explanation. First off, I am incredibly satisfied with the fact that I abided by the Brit's wish because it gave time to cool down between him and his new girlfriend. I assume they've worked through whatever issues this caused, and I truly hope they've moved onto focusing on more important issues like nurturing their relationship and realizing that this blog has no bearing on it one way or the other. I'm also happy I waited to write this addendum because if I had done it directly in the aftermath, I would have been extremely angry, and this post would have been A LOT more mean spirited. I probably would have talked in even greater detail about the negative things I went through with the Brit with very specific examples, but I now realize that's neither here nor there. The bottom line is that there's a lot that I could say about the Brit, about us, about why we are no longer in each other's lives, but I won't because my intent in posting this blog is not to embarrass him or to cause any strain on his current relationship. In all honesty from the bottom of my open heart, I wish him all good things and for happiness in a loving relationship as that is what he truly always wanted. However, the reason I decided to put my blog back online was for three primary reasons. If I did not put it back up it would mean one of three things:

1. It would mean I regretted doing the blog, and I don't. Sure, going on 50 First Dates in NYC was maybe not the most conventional approach, and maybe some of my motivations could be called into question. I know the Brit never really got it, and the whole thing was always a constant source of tension even months after the fact. Perhaps that's why we never would have truly worked. This blog was equal parts art project, looking for love, and self exploration. I feel that I succeeded in all three areas because I finished the blog on my own terms, I came away with love as I truly was happy with the Brit in that moment, and I definitely learned so much about life and people and just dating and how simultaneously fun and draining it can sometimes be in NYC. I've had so many women tell me that they enjoyed reading about my adventures and that they gained more confidence from seeing me have a desire to be myself at any cost amidst the many men in this fine city. I cannot say I regret this blog being a result of my research and findings.

2. It would mean that I regretted dating the Brit, and I don't. Look, the long and short of it is that we were two people who had not been in love with anyone in a while who found each other and fell for each other and eventually realized that we were not right for each other. I learned so much from dating him, and I had fun. I think the biggest learning I got out of it is that I'm not sure that I am particularly relationship oriented at the moment, or perhaps I just hadn't met the right one in him. I know that I've heard that when you meet the right one, it changes your perspective, and you stop thinking so independently. Instead you start considering the other person, and you want to create something with them in mind at all times. I don't know if I ever truly felt that with the Brit. I think I wanted to, and it's hard to say if it's circumstantial or if it was him not being right for me, but I never felt free with him. I felt stifled, and I didn't feel like he liked me for me. I always felt extremely physically attractive because that is what he would comment on the most, and I'll always be grateful for the confidence he gave me in that area, but I never felt funny or interesting or smart around him, and those are really the things I would like to be valued for over physical beauty if I had to choose. Nonetheless, the Brit did give me something. He gave me an awareness of myself, the knowledge that I don't want to be with someone if I can't be myself, and he taught me how to trust myself which is why I'm putting my blog back up.

3. Finally, it would mean that I thought it was okay for him to ask me to hide my writing, and I don't. I know this is super cheesy, but we've established that I have no qualms about being that. With the approach of the 4th of July on Monday, it's gotten me to thinking about all that this entails. When the Brit first made his request, I was probaby on a personal level a little bit hurt and offended that he was asking this favor in order to make his new girlfriend feel better, but on a deeper and much more powerful level I was offended that he would ask me to mute my creative voice as an artist, a woman, and as an American. That's right. What this all boils down to is Freedom of Speech. It's right there in the first ammendment. I mean, I didn't go to law school or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's listed right there in the first one they wrote down for reasons like this. There are always going to be people saying, writing, producing, endorsing things we do not agree with. That is the fact of the matter in that there are so many people and opinions floating around this great big world. I'm happy to live in a time and place that allows me to just be me, and at this present moment I'm happy to not be dating someone who does not allow me to do so.

In a nutshell, what I shared with the Brit was real and magic. It was calm, and it was savage. It was all the things that great love stories are supposed to be. It was filled with warmth, safety, and home in its very best moments and filled with fire, resentment, and confusion in all the others. It had all the makings of a great love affair, the kind that usually do not last forever. But I'm happy to take that moment and put it into a little box, or blog, in time. That's the thing of it. This blog is so symbolic of a specific moment in my life. To me it makes me remember when I was new to New York City. A person will only ever be new to this place once, and I was happy to be able to capture all the excitement and unexpected vibrancy that peeked around every corner in almost every space of every day. I still have a great thirst for NYC, but I feel like this is home now. I feel more like NYC and I are seasoned lovers rather than just acquainted daters. I was really sad for a time after things ended with the Brit, and I had feared that the Honeymoon Phase with NYC was over, but I feel that it's somehow re-emerged. I feel really happy and alive and awakened here once more. I'm dating, I'm exploring, and most importantly I have a great circle of friends who I feel I can rely on when there's not really a special guy on the radar screen. They know who they are, and they are the ones who will always be there to hear a funny story about a really bad date, to ooh and aah over a really good date, to support me when weird requests from ex-boyfriends come in, and to get overzealously excited when prospects for new boyfriends arise.

In the end, I sincerely hope the Brit does not get in touch with me and ask me to take my blog down again. If he does, that means he's still googling my blog on a regular basis, and to that I would say, "Dude, stop googling my blog, and it'll be like it's not even there." Life is too short to worry about the things you can't control so let it go. This blog was never about him. It was about me and my exploration of dating in NYC. He just happened to become a part of it. It was never a collaborative effort. I have heard that when someone dies, the final stage in the grieving process is to write a letter to the person. I don't hope the Brit dies or anything, and I wouldn't say this post is specifically to him, but I think it was therapeutic to tell the story as I saw it. He would probably have a different version, but for what it's worth, I think this is more neutral than it would have been three months ago. Also, I thought about my original compliance of taking down the blog in that I envisioned being friends with the Brit in the future. I kind of know that by putting my blog back up and writing this addendum, it probably means I will never see or speak to him again. I have to be okay with that at this point. A friend of mine once gave me some good advice. "You can't take everyone with you." As nice as it would be, sometimes certain people are better left as chapters in your past. If I could only say one more thing to the Brit it would be, thank you for all that we shared and all that you gave to me. I hope you have found or eventually do find someone who appreciates you just for you. You were not just part of a project. And with that I think I'm finally out of words for him and for this post. Finally, finally I am free...let it ring! Happy Independence Day!!

And in the End...i.e. Dunzo!!

2010-05-23T08:50:00.000-07:00

I moved to NYC nine months ago today. It was a Sunday just like this one except much hotter, but I remember my friends Julia and Virginia driving me from LaGuardia to my new home in Manhattan as if it were yesterday. I was filled with such an inner excitement and anticipation and desire to really explore New York top to bottom, to experience life, to meet new and interesting people, and to rediscover myself while living in this brave new setting. Well, nine months down the road, have I accomplished all of that? I would say, yes, but obviously not completely because I feel these, at the time, unnamed goals I set for myself are things that start to surface but will inevitably keep shifting and changing and evolving as I continue to live here and grow more comfortable here but hopefully never become complacent. I will continue to shift and change and evolve. Afterall, isn't that the whole point of life? But I suppose the whole point of this blog was to ultimately discover what I was looking for with regards to love, if I preferred being single or pursuing a relationship, and if I truly felt I knew myself well enough to not settle for something just because it was there. Because in the end, in a place like NYC, everything is always just there, and you kind of have to figure out what exactly it is you do desire and pursue it aggressively. Otherwise, you really do end up with nothing at all because the one thing I've gathered is that this is not the kind of place where you sit on the sidelines, and things just sort of happen. The competition is too fierce, and you have to really have a strong desire to be you because that is the one thing that is really easy to get lost here--you.

So I've talked A LOT about men through this whole process, and I'm sure men who are reading this are probably like, "Come on, already. Women are not perfect either." Well, that I would agree with. I've delved pretty deeply into my theory that there are basically two kinds of men, and for ages I think men have said the same thing about women. I've always heard that there are two kinds of women--the kind you date and the kind you marry. Considering how many single women there are in NYC, it would appear that this place must be filled with the kind you date. What exactly does this distinction entail, and which one am I? Well, I think the simplest way to break it down is to use the example from Gilligan's Island of Mary Ann and Ginger. Mary Ann is the kind of girl you marry. She's sweet, wholesome, a bit naive, and absolutely the girl next door that you want to swoop up because you can build a home with her and make a nice life. A girl like this will not break your heart. Then there's Ginger. She's definitely the kind of girl you date because she is sexy, fun loving, exciting, and I suppose you could say unattainable. She's the kind of girl a man would always have to worry about not being able to keep satisfied. I think to the outside world I seem like a Mary Ann. For years and I do mean years, I was told by guys that I'm not the kind of girl you date. I'm the kind of girl you marry. And it's true, once I'm into that mindset, I'm so domesticated. I love cooking and playing house and staying in and watching really bad TV with a guy even on the weekends. But I think throughout this process I have demonstrated that I definitely have shades of Ginger, too. I have this ingrained desire to experience and experiment and constantly try new things even with regards to dating. This past year I have definitely come off as the type of girl who one guy could never be enough for. And ironically, I think that is one of the primary things that has made me so appealing to a lot of the guys. Guys like a girl that ultimately they're not really sure they could have.

But I don't think either role is distorted when I portray it. Instead I really do believe that I have shades of both. I've always kind of felt like I suffered from a bit of the Sylvia Plath syndrome. No, not the wanting to stick my head in an oven or anything like that, but have you ever read the "Bell Jar?" Basically the reason she becomes so distraught and depressed is because she has this overwhelming desire to do everything. She writes about how she wants to be a wife and mother, but she also wants to be a free spirit and have many different lovers. She wants to be a world traveler and live in South America and Africa, but she also wants to be a writer and a scientist and a journalist and a professor all at once. She becomes so depressed because she feels that by picking one thing, she ultimately has to give up all of the others. I've never been Sylvia Plath depressed over it, but I suppose in a way I grapple with a similar dilemma. Of course, I think what everyone realizes is that at a certain point in life you have to center in on something that you can really be happy doing and dedicate yourself to it, and with regards to love you sort of have to do the same. You can do one extreme or the other, and nothing is wrong with either choice if that's what you truly want in that moment, but you can't really do both at the same time. I remember I was talking with my co-worker, and he has dated a lot in NYC, but actually he's been dating this one lady pretty seriously for a bit now, and he goes, "I don't know. Everyone's different. You just have to do what's right for you, but if you want to have someone special and still be playing the field, that just makes you a skank." Well said, Co-Worker.

There are two pop culture examples that I can think of that sort of offer differing viewpoints on which is better. One is the totally cheesy one hit wonder ballad by Charlene called "Never Been to Me." If you don't know this song, check it out on youtube. Basically the narrator in the song sings, "I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me." She talks about how she's been everywhere and been romanced by all different kinds of men and really experienced the best that the world has to offer, but she's singing to a woman who is married and has a baby and feels like she hasn't done anything great with her life. Charlene tells her the truth in life is that baby she's holding and the husband that she fought with this morning, the same one she'll make love with that night. Okay, I know it's cheesy, but she's basically saying that the grass is always greener. Sure, her life seems glamorous, but she has nothing to show for it, no real and valid human connection. On the flip side, I recently just finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. This has been called cheesy as well, but I have to tell you I really liked it, and I do totally want to see the Hollywood production starring Julia Roberts. It's basically about a 30 year old woman who has everything a modern woman is supposed to desire. She is successful in her career. She's married and has a great house in the suburbs. Her husband and she have recently decided to start trying to have a baby, and it's when this happens that she realizes this is not what she wants at all. She freaks out, gets a divorce, and decides to take a year long break from her life to travel to Italy to experience pleasure, India to experience spirituality, and Indonesia to find balance between the two, and as fairytale as it sounds she finds love in Indonesia at the end but with a man who is willing and able to accept her unconventional desires in life.

I think about how these representations clearly talk about how women have to make choices in life. Are you gonna focus on career, marriage, family, travel, yourself, and is it possible to have it all? I'm an optimist, and I like to believe I can and will have it all not exactly as I'm imagining but in some related form. I know 50 first dates in NYC seemed like a lot to start with and kind of ridiculous in many regards especially when chances at love emerged throughout the process, and I had to ask myself--Why? Why did I need this arbitrary number to define that I had dated "enough"? The conclusion I came to is that I've always been this way with everything, and maybe this will just always be a quality that is wholly a part of who I am. For example, until I reached the age of 24, I literally couldn't boil water. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I couldn't cook. Campbell's Soup or Hamburger Helper anyone?? My college roommates and Albert can attest to this, but then I moved back to Texarkana for a year when my mom was sick and dying, and since I didn't have a lot going on in my life, I decided I was going to teach myself how to cook so I took one of my mom's cookbooks off the shelf, and I just started cooking every night for my dad and two of my brothers who were also living there at the time. By the end of the year when I was ready to move back to LA, my oldest brother was so impressed with my ability to suddenly cook well that for my birthday he gifted me with a Betty Crocker cookbook, and I took it back to LA with me, moved in with my ex-boyfriend, and cooked the entire cookbook for him over the course of the three years that we lived together. I couldn't just cook a recipe here and there. I had to cook the whole thing.

Then when I moved to Japan, and I realized how close all the Asian countries were I couldn't just go visit a country here and there. Instead I had to visit all of them or at least most. I visited 12 countries and every major city in Japan in the two years that I lived there, and it was amazing and life changing and for a time I seriously do think I was addicted to travel. Then when I moved back to Texarkana my dad passed away last April, and I knew I had to do something. Just as cooking had been my outlet when my mom passed away and travel had been my outlet when my ex-boyfriend and I finally broke up, I had to find something to help me deal with the loss of my dad. Thus my brother #2 who is divorced and the total bachelor who never wants to marry again and I took a 7 week roadtrip around America. Again I couldn't just go to one or two places. Instead, we packed up his pick-up truck and traveled around to 30 states from the middle of June to the beginning of August. It was so awesome and inspiring because I know the song says it, but America really is beautiful. Parts of it are just stunning and look like a painting. I particularly loved the vastness and quietness of the Plains states such as the Dakotas, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, etc. There is this calmness and stillness and very few people actually given the copious amount of space. I remember when we were in North Dakota we heard the story of how Teddy Roosevelt's mom and wife died on the same day, and he just had to check out of society for a bit in order to grieve so he left his home in New York and spent a year out in the isolation of North Dakota, and man is it isolated. I really related to that because literally my ex-boyfriend and I ceased all communication in March, and my dad died in April within a month of each other, and even though I didn't know the Teddy Roosevelt story beforehand, I totally felt that's exactly what I was doing with this roadtrip as well. I was dropping out of society. I didn't check email or have a cell phone or anything for 7 weeks, and it was spectacular.

Thus, what has been the point of me throwing myself into the dating pool headfirst and full throttle in NYC? What have I been trying to work through or escape from? Well, I guess in the most honest way I can say it I was probably trying to hide from myself because in having these fleeting, one night only interactions with people, I never had to delve too deeply or worry about going below the surface too much, but throughout the process I began to realize that when I discovered what I really was looking for and what would be a good match for me, it would be clear to me. What I have discovered is that I do know who I am and what I want, and the truth is that there is no set formula for who is going to make me happy. I don't have a type, and I don't really know what will define my happy ever after. Life is not a movie. There's no easy wrap up after 2 hours and cue the ending credits song or even after 9 months nor should there be. Let's face it, if that were the case, I would definitely spend the rest of my life bored. I don't want to know how it's going to turn out. I want to be surprised and enlightened, and the biggest learning I've taken away from this is that I don't want to figure it out before I experience it first hand. I can be a control freak at times. I admit it. For someone who is ultimately free spirited, I do tend to worry about the future. I remember sharing this with the Cuban over our last dinner, and he just smiled and said, "It's natural. You're a woman."

One of my favorite movies of all time is "The Object of My Affection." It's basically where Jennifer Aniston plays this very together Social Worker who knows who she is and what she wants, but she's thrown for a loop when she falls in love with her gay best friend. At a Thanksgiving dinner party, an older, wiser gay man tells her, "Don't arrange your life so that you find yourself alone just as you reach the middle of it." The conclusion she reaches in the end is that life is about picking one person and trying to make it work with them, but of course, nothing is ever guaranteed in life, but you have to at least start out by picking someone with the potential for it to work out with. So yeah, I think I really and truly have found one such guy. I like the Brit. This blog wasn't about me coming out of it with a perfect fairytale ending where I ride off into the sunset with the Prince on the white horse so I won't portray my ending that way. In fact, I promised the Brit I would not write about the outcome of our meeting today so even I don't know what will happen, but I will tell you this. In him, I've found a guy who I connect with, who is open to new experiences, who makes me tingly inside when I kiss him, who for the most part seems to accept me for my quirkiness, my dorkiness, and my unconventionality, and who is actually stable but not boring and maybe just maybe in the end may be the steady weight I need to keep me from floating off into the utterly vague definition of fun that dating in NYC can sometimes offer.

I'll tell you something. Last night I went on one more date not because I'm addicted and not so that I could write about it, but I wanted to see what it would feel like to go out with a guy just to be going out and not with the purpose of analyzing it. He contacted me on match.com, and he seemed nice and funny. He's a law student, and we met up at the Museum of Arts and Design which by the way is a very interesting museum. He then took me to a phenomenal Japanese meal at Sakagura and the world's best cream puffs at Beard Papa's followed by a trip to the top of the Empire State Building and capped off with more karaoke in K-Town. I am addicted to karaoke. In any event, my reaction was interesting. I could tell fairly early on that he wasn't really what I was looking for, and because I was not going to write about it, I found it to be less engaging and intriguing. In a way, I kind of felt like I was killing time. I especially felt that when we were standing at the top of the Empire State Building. It really is a very romantic spot. I can see what all the hype is about, and I enjoyed it very much, but it was at that moment that I had my answer. I wasn't there with my Cary Grant from "An Affair to Remember" or my Tom Hanks from "Sleepless in Seattle." Instead I was there with a stranger. The aesthetic of the situation was perfect, being at the top of the world looking down on NYC at the stroke of midnight, but in a perfect world I would have allowed myself to be there with a guy who had the potential to be my Prince Charming. I would have been there with the Brit. And that's when I knew for certain that I don't need to do this anymore. Sure if I really give it a pure and solid chance with the Brit and it doesn't work out, I'll have the gumption to know how to put myself out there and try again, but why keep trying right now when something great is already there.

My date from last night actually made a really good point while we were having drinks at the Heartland Brewery right next door to the Empire State Building before going up. He said he thinks men in NYC suffer from the "shiny pants syndrome." Fascinated I asked, "What's that?" He explained, "A guy in New York could be sitting at a bar with a great girl who's cute and smart and funny and nice, but then a girl in shiny pants will walk by, and he's distracted, and he's thinking about her when he's already got this great girl with potential right in front of him." It's a great way of encapsulating everything I've learned from dating in NYC. People always think and worry about something better coming along. I have been very guilty of that this year. You will never fall in love if you don't give people a chance, and things will never work out if when issues arise you don't give them a chance to resolve and instead just run away. I agreed with my date, and I said, "Yeah, men get a bad rap, but I have to say that in New York, I think women oftentimes suffer from the same syndrome as well."

So in the end, what can I say about my dating experience as a whole in NYC? I had the best time ever. I saw so much. I ate at over 50 different restaurants and pretty much every kind of cuisine including the most phenomenal desserts as well. I got more cultured by looking at paintings, sculptures, photography, and the natural landscape that is New York. I was a total tourist riding the sightseeing bus, going to the Statue of Liberty, riding a boat around the Hudson River, taking a carriage ride through Central Park, having a semi-romantic moment or at least an enlightening one atop the Empire State Building. I dated so many different types of men from all different and diverse backgrounds--Asians, Caucasians, Hapas, Latin, Indian, African American. Guys from America and guys from other countries. And guys ranging in age from 25-47. I dated short guys, tall guys, skinny guys, chunky guys, shy guys, loud guys, funny guys, obnoxious guys, corporate guys, artists, altruistic types, guys with money to burn, and guys counting their pennies. I had day dates, evening dates, late night dates, dates that were Uptown, Midtown, Downtown, in Harlem, the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Jersey, even a few minutes on Staten Island. I danced, sang, listened to music, watched movies, went to bars, went to performances, clocked some balls at a batting cage, bowled, played pool, watched sports on TV, walked around aimlessly in neighborhoods, walked around aimlessly in parks, had conversations until 4 o' clock in the morning, had moments where I was thinking will this ever end and moments where I was thinking I don't want this to ever end. I dated guys looking for romance, for friendship with potential, for instant relationships, for one night stands, for something indescribable and without expectation kind of like me. I made out with four and made so much more with only two. I fell into very strong like and back into budding friendship with one special Cuban, and I fell into very strong like and a place of hope but not knowing with one special Brit. In the end, I took more than I gave. I was adored more than I allowed myself to adore back. I was asked out for second dates more than I said yes. I was both certain and unsure equal parts of the time.

I guess the most sound conclusion I am left to draw and to state right here and now is that I realized that I want to be with a guy who likes me just the way I am--neurotic yet loveable, homebodied yet free, a little bit off but ultimately sane, and a wanderluster but open to wanderlusting around with just the right person. It takes a lot for me to open my world to someone. You see, I've been pretty open with this blog, but I think I'm layered and I've only revealed what I truly want you to see, and I'll save the rest for the guy I think is worth peeling the onion back for. Other than that, I'm just really excited to enjoy summer in NYC. I hear that it's amazing. Everyone's energy level is up just because the weather is so nice and you can be out of doors enjoying it non-stop. I can't wait. It was interesting for me to do a blog, and many people have suggested to me that I don't have to stop blogging just because I've stopped dating in such a premeditated, active way, but I have to say I don't know that I would start another blog. I would have to find a topic that I was super passionate about, and alas it's also very time consuming and requires a lot of effort. I loved every minute of doing this project, but honestly I'm a bit ready to stop writing about life and just kind of be present experiencing it and being in the moment. I'm excited to start traveling again as I will officially kick off my summer correctly by traveling to Panama and Costa Rica over Memorial Day weekend for 9 illustrious days of sun, fun, and once again dropping out of society. I can't wait. As much as I love NYC, everyone's gotta get away sometime.

Before that I will be getting away to Brooklyn this lovely Sunday afternoon. I am meeting the Brit at a pie shop to explain all of this in person and to see where we go from here. As he said to me prior maybe it's time for me to stop writing about the Brit and to actually start getting to know "Paul." That's his name, and in a way I don't think he'll mind that I told you that quite simply because it makes him special, and it makes him a person and not just some curve ball that landed in the middle of all of this. This experience has been incredible. Thank you all for reading and commenting and just being interested in seeing me figure it all out. I'm happy to report that I don't have it all figured out by a long shot, but I definitely have a better idea of who I am and what I want, and yes, I know I'm like the weather in NYC changing from day to day, but on this particular day I would like a piece of pie with a cute British boy, and from there anything is possible. Like my good friend and favorite commenter Yamato once said, "Until something happens, anything can happen," and man is she right. Anything can happen!!

The End...of The Beginning...in NYC

Museum of Arts and Design: http://www.madmuseum.org/

Sakagura: http://www.sakagura.com/

Beard Papa's: http://www.beardpapa.com/

Heartland Brewery: http://www.heartlandbrewery.com/

Empire State Building: http://www.esbnyc.com/index2.cfm?CFID=38261367&CFTOKEN=41583954

Wow Karaoke: http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/47405288/new_york_ny/karaoke_wow.html

On Second Thought...

2010-05-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

OKAY, Okay, okay, so I do realize that I've spent an awful lot of time making snap judgments and weeding out the men in this whole process and pretty quick to proclaim that if there's chemistry you feel it right away and if not you should quickly move on in order to free both of you up to find the right one. Well, after 50 first dates in NYC, I have to contend that I still agree with most of that, but I think the one surprising thing I did discover is that sometimes you need to take a second look at something. Not every kind of chemistry has the thunderbolt pop that I shared with the Cuban. I didn't even feel that with the Brit, but rather it was more of an intriguing, impending pop waiting to occur. Thus, there were three guys for various random reasons that I thought I would give a second look at--mainly because I was drawn to some aspect of them and also because they followed up and pursued me as well. Here is what I found upon second glance.

Something Old
As you'll recall I went out with Food Guy at the very end of January on date #23. My conclusion at the end of the date was that I was attracted to him, he was a lot of fun, but he was very relationship oriented, and I told him that if we were both still single when I finished my dates we should go out again. Much to my surprise, he waited patiently and got in contact ironically on April 11 which was the same day I went Speed Dating for the second time. He texted me as I was waiting for the Brit to arrive at the Delancey, and I found it so intriguing that every time I am thinking of one guy, another one appears. Maybe this really is God's way of saying very loudly, "Hey, nothing ever has to be final, and there are always options so choose wisely, but don't worry about such catastrophic thinking as ever and never entails." I finally had a free Friday on May 7 so I suggested that we go out. We meet up after work at Haru which is a sushi restaurant near Times Square. I'm waiting on the outside when I see him approach. Even though over three months has passed he looks the same. I still find him to be attractive. He seems really happy to see me. We hug, and we go inside and eat a fabulous sushi meal. It's over dinner upon second inspection of Food Guy that I don't think he's a perfect match for me. He's great. He's funny, and he has a good job in marketing, but he's a little too traditional for me. I also didn't notice it before, but he speaks very low. This restaurant is not that loud, but I find myself having to ask him to repeat most things he says. This is a bit troublesome.

After dinner he has arranged for us to go to the Laurie Beechman Theatre where on Friday nights they do an open mic night for people who want to sing Broadway tunes. We have some time to kill so we end up going in the giant Toys R' Us in Times Square. It's the one with the huge ferris wheel in the middle. This is actually a lot of fun walking around and looking at all the toys. I make him go through the Barbie section with me. Later on we find some hula hoops. I get really excited and start hula hooping around. Food Guy has this really impressed look on his face. I'm pretty impressed, too. I haven't hula hooped in ages so I'm surprised that I still remember or that my hips remember at least. Food Guy doesn't get in on the act, and this is another thing that alarms me. I need a guy that can play with the toys as well. Afterwards, we go to the theater, and the show is great. It's totally an amateur night for people aspiring to be on Broadway. It's like a weird fusion between American Idol and a karaoke bar but all centered around show tunes and very, very NYC. I love it. Food Guy and I have a great time and some apple martinis, and we stay for the whole thing until around 2 am.

Once the show is over it's late, but it's Friday night, and I say we should totally go to the McDonald's in Times Square. It's the unmistakeable one with flashy neon lights, and it's featured in the background of the Jay-Z video Empire State of Mind. We go in just for kicks, and Food Guy orders some Chicken McNuggets, and he buys me a Hamburger Happy Meal. This McDonald's is so cool because each seat along the wall is equipped with it's own personal TV screen playing music videos. Honestly I think sitting here with Food Guy eating this late night junk food and playing with the matchbox car from the Happy Meal in the middle of Times Square is the most random and fun part of the whole date for me, and I have to give him major props for it, but it's later at the subway stop as Food Guy is waiting with me for my train to come that he says, "I really want to kiss you right now," and he goes in for a kiss, and we make out for a bit near the pillar, and we release and I realize that I just don't feel anything for him. They say that sometimes all you need is the kiss to tell, and sometimes I think what they say is true. My heart doesn't skip a beat. I don't feel all tingly inside. I'm not into it. Food Guy is not the one, but I'm glad I took the time to find out. What I realize is that he had the misfortune of coming on the scene in the month following my letdown with the Cuban. I was looking for someone to light up my life again and fill the void, and frankly any guy who made me laugh more than a little would have peaked my interest but not because I was really into the guy but because he took my mind off of the disappointment with the Cuban. A rebound in a way I guess you could say. He writes me the next day saying that he had a great time and that he'd like to do it again. I write back that I think it would be better if we went the friendship route. He writes back that he understands, but he thinks we should just do our own thing. It's too bad because I thought he was really cool, but I know the feeling so well.

Haru: http://www.harusushi.com/
Laurie Beechman Theatre: http://www.beechmantheatre.com/
McDonald's Times Square: http://www.mcdonaldstimessquare.com/

Something True
The Hapa is a guy I met on date #28 the day before Valentine's Day. He had impressed me in the fact that his racial make-up matched me to a tee. He had also lived abroad in Japan for several years, and the fact that he was a bohemian/traveler/wanderer in the way that I am intrigued me very much. The reservations I had were that he was not particularly jolly or upbeat or high energy. In fact, he was very stereotypically New York in the regard of being a bit cynical and jaded. I thought it was worth a second glance just because hapas are so hard to come by, and we had kept in touch sporadically since our date in mid-February. I finally ask him to hang out with me again on the first Saturday in May. I suggest going to the Studio Museum in Harlem but before that maybe grabbing some of the great, tasty food that Harlem is known for. Of course, I am thinking of some delicious soul food from either Sylvia's or Amy Ruth's. I have heard that both are great, but before I can throw those out there, he writes back saying he thinks it's a good idea as long as we don't go to the "overhyped Sylvia's." Okay, now it's coming back to me. He's totally anti-commercialism and things that are in tourist guide books. I'm quite sure Sylvia's and Amy Ruth's are in a Lonely Planet on Harlem somewhere.

I agree to let him pick the place, and we end up going to a hole in the wall Senagalese restaurant. I'm actually really excited because this is totally off the beaten track, and I've definitely never had food from Senegal before. This place which is located in Harlem is so rustic it doesn't even have a menu. There are simply two choices given straight from the mouth of the waitress who is probably also the daughter of the owner. It's a total family establishment. I love it. The food comes, and it's spicy but very tasty, and the Hapa and I enjoy the meal very much. We also catch up on the past two and a half months in our lives. The Hapa still has not found a job, but he's been doing a lot of screenwriting. I tell him I've almost finished my 50 first dates. He tells me I should write a book. I end up telling him about my blog. After the meal, we walk around Harlem until we make it to the museum. The museum is interesting. It features art from African American artists, and it's bigger than I thought it would be. I have to say that I absolutely love Harlem. I think it's so flavorful and not like other parts of Manhattan. I know from speaking with the Hapa who grew up in NYC that it's changed tons in the past few years and is obviously a lot safer, but I love the West African influence that's present there now.

After the museum, we end up in a corner shop that sells coffee. The Hapa gets one, and I get a tea, and we sit and talk, and he gets really into the idea of turning my blog into a movie. He says one idea is that you could get all these famous comic actors to portray the different dates like Adam Sandler or Will Ferrell or Steve Carrell. Hmm...that's an interesting take on it. Kind of a different direction than I was imagining, but I'm open. It's while we're talking that I start to realize that we're falling into the friendship zone super quickly. It's nothing purposeful or premeditated, but I just don't feel anything romantic going on at this table in this little West African cafe. And I'm okay with that. I think you know when there's an overpowerful flirtation drawing you both to the center, a magnetic pull if you will. Instead I just feel like I'm chilling out with a pal, a chum, a buddy. It's later on when the Hapa writes to me that I write back that I kind of felt like we were falling into the friendship zone, and I think that's great because I can always use a good friend in a place like New York. So in a way we don't ever really have the talk, and I do think it's case by case. With some people, less is more.

Studio Museum Harlem: http://www.studiomuseum.org/

Something Borrowed
Sitcom Guy had been hanging out in the periphery of my mind since he became my date #30 around the end of February. Like Food Guy having the misfortune of following the Cuban, I think Sitcom Guy's main misfortune was that he came directly before the Brit. Unlike with Food Guy, by the time I met both the Sitcom Guy and the Brit I was a couple of months removed from the situation with the Cuban and genuinely ready to make a new connection solely for its own value and not just to try to replace something else. Thus Sitcom Guy was less persistent than the Brit. He agreed to wait until I was winding down my dates before going on a follow up, but he patiently checked in with me sporadically and from time to time for around two months. When he finally asked me if I'd like to accompany him to a Korean wedding in the Asian part of Queens, I found it to be the most outrageous follow up date I'd ever been offered, and I had to say yes.

I meet up with Sitcom Guy at the train station near my apt. When I see him approaching, he looks just like before--calm and cute and very approachable. Plus, he's in a suit, and he looks very handsome. I'm all dressed up as well, and we definitely look a bit over the top for the 7 train to Flushing at 6 pm on a Saturday evening. In any event, it's a long ride out there, and we have a lot of time to catch up. The immediate thing I notice is that it's incredibly easy to just slide back into bantering with him. It doesn't feel like almost 3 months has passed. He's goofy and sarcastic, and we laugh a lot on our ride. We go to the wedding which is for one of his friends from high school who he hasn't seen in years, but when we get there it's literally like a class reunion. All of his friends from back in the day are there, and I get introduced around. The funny thing was that on the train, Sitcom Guy asked how we should say we met. I replied, "Match.com. Why are you embarrassed?" He says, "No, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay with that." I am, but then it dawns on me that it would be great fun to make up this elaborate story, and so we do. We decide that we will say I was asking for directions to the Frick because that's where we had our first date while he was running in Central Park.

The wedding is beautiful and in Korean and so neat to get to see. The bride looks radiant. In fact, both the bride and groom are this adorable, little Korean couple, and I joke to Sitcom Guy that I just want to put them in my pocket and carry them around. He laughs. At the reception afterwards, we're eating appetizers and socializing, and I end up talking to one of his friends from high school who's a girl, and she asks how we met, and I go into full on acting mode pulling up the directions story, and he totally overhears and joins in, and we are off and running with this role play, and at this moment I realize how much I like being undercover. The rest of the reception is awesome. When the bouquet toss comes up, I can't get to the center of the floor fast enough. I totally catch the bouquet of this random Korean girl who I have never ever met. Sitcom Guy is totally proud that I'm taking one for the team. The rest of the reception is filled with dancing and drinking, and I have an absolute great time at this shindig. Sitcom Guy asks me if I want to go to karaoke after the reception. It's totally random, but I really, really want to.

We hop a cab back to Manhattan and end up in K-Town where you can rent your own private room. We go to about four places before we finally find one without a wait. We go in the room, and it's awesome. There's a tamborine, microphones, and a huge songbook with every pop tune you could possbily imagine. We proceed to sing for a good two hours. It's awesome. It reminds me of when I used to go over to my ex-boyfriend's apartment and make him play tunes on the piano, and we would literally sing for hours, and I think about how me and the Brit had started doing that with his guitar, and it's here in this karaoke room that I start to realize that this is something I definitely look for in a guy. If I'm able to sing with a guy whether with an instrument or at karaoke or in the car, I think we're halfway there to making a real and solid match. Sitcom Guy is the consummate gentleman, and he doesn't try to kiss me even though we have the privacy of the karaoke room, but he does put his arm around me, and I can sense that he's thinking of it, and there's something about him that I just like, and unlike with Food Guy or the Hapa I'm not able to dismiss him so easily after a second glance nor am I able to qualify him so quickly as with the Cuban or even the Brit. He is falling into a very gray area that is just undefinable right now.

Gagopa Karaoke: http://nymag.com/listings/bar/gagopa-karaoke/

Something Cu...bano that is.
And now we come to the Cuban. I couldn't conclude my blog without seeing him again and in a way figuring out what really happened between us and maybe in a phrase specifically answering the question of if men and women can be friends or if people who have dated before can just be friends or if me and the Cuban can really just be friends. So it's Friday night, and we are meeting for sushi. The Cuban had requested that I pick the place so I choose the Sushi Lounge which is on St. Marks at the tip of Alphabet City. We're both coming from work--me from Midtown and him from the Financial District. I instruct him to take the 6 train to Astor, and he can walk from there, and I'll meet him at the restaurant at 6:30 pm. As usual I'm running a few minutes behind, and I'm almost sure he's gonna be pissed so I barrel up the stairs and try to get oriented. I see the direction I need to head in, and I start to pass the crosswalk when I feel someone jerk my arm, and I turn, and it's him. Man oh man, what a sight for sore eyes. After four and a half months, there the Cuban is. He's just come from the office so he has on this button down blue shirt, and he looks good. He looks really, really good even better than I remember actually. I say, "Hey, you scared me." He's laughing and very pleased with himself. He says, "You looked so serious. You were in hot pursuit of your destination." We do the Cuban kiss on the side of the mouth thing. I say, "Well, yeah, I was running late, and I thought you were gonna be pissed." He laughs.

It turns out he doesn't know this area that well at all so he lets me lead, and it suddenly seems that something has shifted from when we first met seven months ago, and I didn't know north from south and definitely didn't know where to get a decent sushi meal. As we're walking, we immediately start talking, and it's fun, it's fresh, it's alive. It's really, really great to see him in such a good mood after the last one we left each other in. We catch up on his job and his music (he's learning the flute), and everything else in between. We pass by some garbage bags. He pretends he's going to shove me in. I swing him around and try to do the same. Damn, why is this guy so much fun? Eventually we reach Avenue A, and there Sushi Lounge is in a fluorescent yellow building calling out to us. We get seated, and we start looking at the menu. He puts his over mine so I can't see mine. He's such a child. I love it. I threaten to punch him. We order our sushi. I get some tako-yaki. He asks me what that is. I tell him it's octopus balls and that he should try it. He says no way, and then I tell him it's not really. It's just fried octopus, but it's in the shape of balls, but he doesn't believe me.

And then I say, "So I finished my 50 first dates." He says, "Wow, you finished right when you predicted, right around May." I say, "Yep, my last one was last Sunday." He listens very intently, and then he asks, "So what do think was the main thing you learned from the whole experience?" I think for a bit, and I say, "I think I learned lots, but I came away with 3 main points. 1. I learned that you don't have to know what it all means right now, and instead you should just enjoy it for what it is in the moment, and if it's not working you'll know and you can move on, and you'll be okay, but don't try to figure it all out before it happens. 2. I was curious about dating in a social setting that was so unique as that of NYC, but in the end serial dating is not for me. I want to form something real and meaningful with one person. 3. Dating really is just a number's game. Out of 50 men, there were 5 with potential, and I would say there were 2 with definite potential." He takes it all in, and I remember so clearly what it was I was always so drawn to in him. He is a guy that really is a fusion and really does have it all. He's so charismatic, but he's such a good listener, and he really wants to learn from anyone he's interacting with, and in the same token he's quite knowledgable. I would say he's street smart.

So I tell him that he really was different from the other guys I dated. I tell him that I dated a ton of corporate guys, and somehow there was just kind of a vacantness in them, and they were very business like, and he's different, and I do think that's why I was able to connect with him. He asks me about my worst dates, and I tell him some stories. He's engaged as always, and then I can't help myself. I say, "So what about you? How's your love life? Are you engaged?" He says, "What love life? I have no time." He then tells me about the schedule he's been keeping at work. When we parted ways in January, he really was entering busy season, and it seems he's barely had a spare moment since. Of course, he does still go out, but he's of the thought that those things just kind of happen naturally instead of seeking them out. By the way, the sushi is amazing. I love sharing this meal here with him. We are laughing the whole time, and it's so easy to just be with him. He is such a natural goofball which is incredibly hard to find. Most people have to try entirely too hard, and that's the thing that I really dig about him and really like about him. I tell him more than anything this past year I didn't feel balanced. It was fun dating and having so many random experiences, but I think now I'm ready to just kind of calm down a bit and enjoy the everyday moments of living in NYC and settle into a more serious relationship with someone. He takes it in maybe somehow seeing how I've come full circle and in other ways maybe not.

After dinner we're both heading back to the 6 train so we walk and talk. Eventually at the crosswalk, I can't help myself again, and I have to ask the one question that will give me closure. I ask, "So at what point did you realize we would be better as just friends?" He replies, "Do I have to answer that?" I say, "No." But he does. He says, "It was very soon after you did that whole 'break up' business. I could just see that you weren't grounded enough. Your curiosity and your thirst to discover everything is so great, and I'm the same way, but it was just too much. You didn't have anything weighting you down." There, he said it. I really was too complicated. And I feel this release because absolutely everything he's saying is true and what I've learned about myself in this project. I was too all over the map, and in many ways the Cuban is too, but I agree with him, and I say, "You're so right. Whoever I end up with is going to have to be stable as a rock because that's what I need." And in many ways, I think that's what the Cuban needs, too. We're too similar, and when you put us together a fire ignites, and as we've seen it's dangerous. Very, very fun but dangerous. Because the Cuban and I are so alike, in many ways I think he has an understanding of who I am and what I need in a way that most guys I've dated never have.

Once we reach the subway we have to part ways because we're going in different directions. I say, "So you think men and women can be friends?" He says, "I think so, but it takes two." This makes sense to me because I remember one time being on a train in Hong Kong with my friend from college Yoko, and I asked her if she thought me and my ex-boyfriend the Pianist would ever be normal friends. She said, "Sure, but I think it's up to you, and it's up to the Pianist." And in this moment, if I want to be friends with the Cuban I think it's up to him, and it's up to me, and I really, really do want to be friends with him. We get along so well. I don't know. There's just this energy between us, and he makes me laugh like not everyone can. Maybe it didn't work out between us, but after this dinner I truly believe it's not because the chemistry wasn't there or the attraction. Rather, I think we met at the wrong time, and we'll just have to remain as two passing ships in the night. But I like having him in my life, and if friendship is what it takes to keep him there then I could settle for that. He says, "Alright, Girl," and we do the Cuban kiss on the side of the mouth to say goodbye. As he's walking down the stairs I say, "I'll see ya in four and a half months." He says, "I asked you to go to dinner after three and a half months. You're the one who took a month to be free." I smile and say, "Okay, I'll see ya in three and a half months then," and I probably will. Gracias, El Cubano, and not just for giving me something great to write about.

Sushi Lounge: http://www.sushiloungenyc.com/

This one's for the girls.

2010-05-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

In every place I have ever lived and in every chapter, I have always had good girlfriends to keep the balance going and to provide a feeling of support in knowing that it's okay if you haven't found Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now. In the same breath, I'm not a girly girl by any means. Definitely I like dressing up if the occasion calls for it, but I'm more downhome. I'm never gonna be that girl that gets up two hours early to pick out an outfit and do the hair and make-up. That's just not me. I'm much more earthy, and so are all the girls I have ever really bonded with. So in that regard I'm not like Carrie Bradshaw at all. Maybe some of it could be attributed to the fact that I have 3 brothers so I really like hanging out with guys as well and doing guy things like rough housing and playing video games, and that's why at the end of the day I really do believe men and women can be friends, or at least I know that I can be friends with men and actually have really had a strong desire to be friends with some of the guys I've gone on dates with even if I wasn't feeling anything romantic. And then, of course, we all know how I feel about the gay male companion. I am a huge champion. I have always said that I don't need a hundred friends to function. In fact, in any given environment if I have a good girlfriend, a gay friend, and a boyfriend I am fulfilled on all fronts.

In my first couple of years of college, I hung out with these 3 great girls named Michele, Julia, and Esther. Then in the latter half of college, Michele and I lived with our other 2 friends Gladys and Yoko. Michele, along with my gay pal Albert, was my steadfast confidante for my first few years in LA. She carried me through every major crush, one hot month, disappointment, intrigue, and so much more with regard to boys and love. She would get really into my stories and let me pour over every small detail pertaining to whichever boy I was crazy about at the moment. In a nutshell, I was absolutely boy crazy when I first moved to LA. In fact, I distinctly remember Michele once telling me, "Carole, all you ever talk about is school and boys." So good to see that not much has changed in 10 years time. In any event, Esther and Julia are both married now, and Yoko just got engaged. Congatulations, Yoko!! I'm so excited for her wedding because she's a total foodie, and I know that aspect is going to be off the hook, but beyond that it will just be so wonderful to see a friend committing her life to a partner who she truly loves and who she knows will make her happy for the rest of her life. When I lived in Japan, I hung out with 3 other great girls named Yamato, Kristen, and Sheenae. I had so much fun traveling around with them. Also, my neighbor was this great gay guy named Roman who would always knock on my door and ask me if I wanted to go get chocolate, and then we would talk about boys and traveling and living in Japan and then watch movies or look at PerezHilton.com on his computer. Hey, you have to pass the time in the Japanese countryside somehow. Coincidentally Yamato just got married as well. Congratulations, Yamato!! So it's kind of weird seeing your friends entering into this next serious stage of life. It's not weird in a bad way. It's just moreso an acknowledgement that your life is evolving and growing into a different chapter, and to properly grow as a person you have to ease into each new stage with confidence and clarity, and above all you have to know what's right for yourself. You can't just decide it's time to grab a guy because everyone around you is doing that. Rather, I think falling in love and wanting to build something with someone that is bigger than the both of you is what draws someone into something like marriage.

Now currently in New York, my girls are Dawn and Paola. I have a great time with them, and they are very single, and since a friend from all of my prior groups has gone into that marriage zone, I'm wondering who it will be out of the 3 of us, and I actually find myself thinking it will probably be me just because out of all of us I am more focused on that, and I have been more proactive about really seeing what's out there. But then again when I am with them, it feels totally more than okay being single which again I think goes back to that single girls' camraderie support network that has always been so apparent in my life. It's interesting though because I was talking to one of my dates prior, and honestly I haven't met a ton of people in NYC whose lives are like that TV show "Friends." This city is so big and diverse that it doesn't seem like a ton of people have 5 other people who they see on a daily basis and who they hang out with and do everything with all the time. For example, Julia from my LA days now lives in New York as does Sheenae from my Japan days. I also have my psychology friends and now my go to girls Dawn and Paola, but all of these groups are real and separate entities so I find that when I couple that with school, work, and a dating life, I only hang out with each of them maybe once every month or couple of months. Man, if there's one thing I've discovered from this year in NYC it's that people are busy including myself.

In any event, last Friday night it was Dawn's birthday, and it was a perfect excuse to get together with her and Paola and celebrate in true blue NYC style. So we go eat dinner at Il Porto which is in our neighborhood, and afterwards we decide that we have to go to Water Taxi Beach. For those of you that don't know, Water Taxi Beach is this outdoor "club" located at the Southstreet Seaport. It's made up to look like a beach with sand and everything. I have to give you some background. Last August, it was the first Friday after Dawn and I had moved to NYC, and we wanted to go exploring around. Naturally being complete neophytes, neither one of us had a clue as to what to do or where to go. We hadn't even heard of Timeout NY. So we picked a street and wondered down it until we happened upon the Southstreet Seaport where all of the action was taking place because the weather was so nice. We ended up eating at one of the restaurants with outdoor seating, and afterwards we wandered over to Pier 17 and walked around to where we suddenly heard loud music and saw a ton of people milling about.

We were both so excited. For all intents and purposes, this seemed like a "cool" place, and it was so very close to where we lived. Thus, we decided to just hang out on one of the benches kind of scoping out the scene, and there were all of these shady looking guys. It definitely seemed like an older crowd. Some of these guys were clearly in their 40s, and the more I kept looking around I started to notice something. My keen observation skills and knowledge from the past did not fail me. I realized something, and I had to share it with Dawn. I said, "It's a gay club." She said, "Really?" I think she was a bit disappointed because she kind of likes older guys. It turns out it was a special throw back night to some gay club that used to be around in the 1980s which explains why all the 40 year olds were out in full force. I was like, "Yeah, these guys are all gay," and it totally was a gay club which made me even more excited about actually going inside. We ended up getting in the line, but then we found out the cover was $25, and we were like "forget that." Instead we ended up just walking around the perimeter because the way Water Taxi Beach is set up, you can totally hear the music and see what's going on inside because there are no walls only a small knee high fence so we spent the evening doing what is the story of my life--on the outside looking in, and I actually think we had way more fun that way. In any event, Water Taxi Beach is only open in the summer, and I sort of told myself that we would actually go back there one of these nights, and so Dawn's birthday was perfect because it was opening night of the season.

So Dawn, Paola, and I go inside, and we get a drink. I go with the obvious choice, a margarita. We kind of scope out the scene. It's early so it's not really too packed. I guess they must rotate the themes because tonight is definitely not an 80s gay night. Instead it seems to be a Latin theme. They're playing a lot of Latin music, and the crowd is really an odd, eclectic mix. There are some really, really young looking people, and then there are some really old looking people like in their 60s. Interesting. We end up parking ourselves on one of the benches on the sand. The view is the best part of this place. We're right under the Brooklyn Bridge, and the sparkle looks so magical at night. We look at the dance floor. There's one Latin guy absolutely dominating the dance floor, no partner necessary. I laugh. This totally reminds me of the Cuban. I turn to the girls, and I say, "That's totally how the Cuban is on the dance floor." They laugh, too. After a coupla more songs, we hit the dance floor as well, and it's super fun. The music is good. The fresh Hudson River breeze is blowing in. There are no male prospects in sight, and I am okay with that. It's fun just being here with the girls.

After a little while, we're ready to hit up a more traditional NYC hotspot. Paola has come with a recommendation. She says one of her friends is DJing at this place called Amnesia so I suggest that we get outta here and go check it out. We hop on the train, and we emerge somewhere near Chelsea. I get really excited. I say, "This is the gayborhood. We could go to a gay club." Dawn and Paola laugh. I'm such a hag, like a moth to a flame. In any event, I reassure Dawn that we are in fact going to a straight club just for her. We arrive, and it is so NYC with the roped off area. We get inside, and it's dead at first, but it really starts to pick up about an hour or so later. The phrase, "People don't go out until midnight in NYC" really starts to become clarified at this point. I'll be honest with you, at this point this whole situation becomes completely observational from my viewpoint. I start to think about how this is a whole lifestyle for some people, and some people are so serious about it.

When I lived in LA, I loved to go out, but I mainly went out to gay clubs. They were so much fun. You could go and dance and not be harrassed and just have a good time. On the rare occasion that I would actually go to some Hollywood club I would notice that everyone looked alike. Everyone dressed alike, and it was all sort of cookie cutter. It wasn't my scene at all, and the funny thing is that here at this club in NYC I'm getting the same vibe. All of the guys look alike, and even all of the girls look alike, too. Not one single dude stands out as someone I would want to approach. It's just a mass production of skeeviness. That is until a couple of hours in, and we're dancing, and he walks in. There's always someone who stands out amongst the crowd. On this particular occasion it's a guy who comes in, and he has on the thick rimmed glasses and a scarf. He's attractive. There's something distinctive about him, and it's because he has a style all his own. I become really enamored, and I really feel like I want to meet this guy.

At one point, we're up on the second level, and I look down, and I see Scarf Guy on the first level near the bar talking with his friends. Dawn leans over, and she says, "Mabel thought that guy was cute." (Mabel is one of Dawn's classmates who joined us for a bit and then left). I gasp, and I say, "I totally think he's cute, too." We watch him for a while, and then he leaves the bar area to go to a different part. I say to the girls, "Let's go down and dance near him." They say, "You are not shy, Carole." And I'm thinking, "You think?" We go down. I'm waiting for the perfect moment to intercept, but he's always with people. This is a very delicate situation. You have to find just the right moment to make it look coincidental. Eventually I see him go back near the bar. I'm at a loss. I have to talk to this guy. It's so funny. It's almost like a game of cat and mouse to me. This reminds me of the first night at Speed Dating where I was so determined to catch Mr. Handsome. It's all a game to me. At this point Paola is back up on the second level, and I say to Dawn, we have to go find Scarf Guy. I start heading to the bar. This must be the eleventh hour because it seems like every guy tries to pull us into dance as we're making our way to the bar. It almost seems like at a certain hour every guy has to grab a girl, and as I'm in hot pursuit of Scarf Guy maybe I'm no different. I round the corner, and I see Scarf Guy...but...he's with a girl. And they look very intimate, and I'm totally bummed out. The dude has a girlfriend, or something. I turn back around and push Dawn in the other direction, and I say, "He has a girlfriend." She says, "Really?" I say, "Yeah, he was kissing some girl." We proceed onto the bar, and as we are walking we pass right by Scarf Guy and his girl who are walking in the other direction. Small bummer maybe, but it added some excitement to my night, and man am I so happy I didn't try to talk to him before realizing he was spoken for. That girl would have beaten the crap out of me.

Anyways, Dawn, Paola, and I carry on with our night. We dance like crazy to all of the songs, and we have just a really great time. Dawn makes a funny observation later on. She says, "I remember when I was in my early 20s I would go to clubs, and there would always be these older chicks who were just really into it and didn't care what anyone thought. All I could keep thinking was that was us tonight." I bust out laughing because she's totally right. We are now officially those older chicks who are just there to have a good time and are really oblivious about being hip or trendy because let's face it. Anyone who seriously uses the word hip is beyond help at this time. But the thing of it is that even when I was 22 I was never like the girls I saw at the club tonight. There's nothing wrong with it if that's your thing, but I am way too dorky and downhome for all of that. I'm just glad I can appreciate the novelty of it and enjoy being single while I can and have some great girls to enjoy my life with in NYC. Yes, I am in pursuit of love, connection, intimacy, but I think at the background there has to be a strong base of support so that you don't ever feel like if it doesn't work out with a guy there won't be anyone there and also just to have someone to be on the outside looking in on the coolness with you. So to all my girls whether you were busy being dorky at a dance club with me when I was in my early 20s, late 20s, or now early 30s, I raise my glass to you, and I say, "Don't stop believing," oh yes, in that power to be free and to just be.

Water Taxi Beach: http://www.watertaxibeach.com/
Amnesia: http://www.amnesianyc.com/home

Date #50--The French Guy

2010-05-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

I have finally made it to my 50th and final first date in NYC at least as far as this blog is concerned. There were moments where I didn't actually think I would see this day arrive, and there were others where I was so determined that it must, but in any event I am here on a beautiful, sunny Sunday in May. My date is not until 4 pm, and I am meeting him at the Southstreet Seaport Museum. My rommate Dawn has been working there since November, and all these months that have passed by I've kept telling her I would come in and visit her and finally see the museum one of these days. Thus, the timing seems perfect because it's actually her last day there as well. Dawn will be spending the summer doing a trek in South Dakota followed by an internship somewhere in New England so we'll actually be parting ways in just a few short days as well. As a result, her mom and uncle have driven in from Pennsylvania today to help pack up her portion of the apartment. I didn't want to be in the way, and it is such an overly apparent awesome day weather wise that I couldn't resist heading down to my usual spot on the third level of Pier 17.

I arrive there around 12:30 pm, and I immediately notice that the tourist high season is in session. Many of the fold out chairs are occupied today so I decide to round the corner, and I find a bench that is completely empty. I take a seat, and I stare out on the Brooklyn Bridge. I watch the ships go by. I think about life. I think about what this past 8 months of dating has meant to me and in my life. I think about the numerous random encounters I have had, the vast number of restaurants, museums, parks, neighborhoods, tourist attractions, and people I have explored in this journey. And I think about the men who have really touched me in this journey--the Cuban and the Brit. At one point or another they both evolved into a friend and a lover, and now the Cuban is a friend, and I'm trying to work out what the Brit will ultimately become. I wrote him on Friday and told him that I would be ready to meet up with him on Sunday, May 23 to talk about everything and also that I would be obviously through with my dates as well. I suggested meeting at a pie shop that my co-worker recommended in Park Slope called Four and Twenty Blackbirds. He wrote back with two requests--that I have at least a week between my final date and when we meet up to really think about things and process everything and be sure of how I'm feeling and where I'm at and secondly that I completely conclude my blog before meeting so that there is no obstacle of a bizarre love triangle once again resurfacing. The first request was no problem. The second required me to marinate for a bit. Obviously I will want to put some concluding thoughts onto this whole process in the week that I'm evaluating everything, and I just wanted to make sure I could draw a sound conclusion and write about it before agreeing to it so after 4 days contemplation I wrote back that I could and would do both of his requests. We are set to meet next Sunday. In a way, I guess you could say I've already begun the digestion process as I sit here in my spot thinking over everything.

All of a sudden I turn to look to my right, and there he is. I have to do a double take. Is that really him? I look away. I look back and have the same thoughts and look away. This time when I look up a third time, he is making eye contact with me. It's the Brit. He's here in the spot with me in person. I'm in shock. I just smile in silence for a moment, and I say laughingly, "What are you doing here?" He says, "I don't know." Maybe we're both in a state of disbelief that out of all the spots in NYC we could both be magnetically drawn to this one in this exact moment. We weren't supposed to meet for 7 more days, but maybe fate wants us to have an appetizer before the main course. The Brit comes and sits next to me, and we talk. We just catch up mainly about the month we've been apart, and the astonishing thing is that it's not weird or tense or even hard. It's really easy to slide back into each other as if 30 days have not come and floated past. I ask him about his improv and his job and even his dating. He asks me about my dating and my blog and such. And then he asks, "Do you want to get some ice cream?" Umm Hmm...it's a perfect day for it. I tell him that I do.

We head towards Battery Park, and we stop at one of the ice cream trucks along the way, and he buys us both a cone. We enter the park and find a bench by the water. I can't believe I am getting to do something fun with the Brit on a day when it was least expected because up until the moment I laid eyes on him I thought I would be spending the hours leading up to #50 in contemplation, but I don't mind. I somehow like the alternative. I like being with the Brit as opposed to being alone in contemplation. I haven't let too much out of the bag because I want to save my major thoughts and conclusions for our meet-up the following Sunday so instead this has been a delightful afternoon of sort of just being in the moment and being spontaneous and people watching the tourists and kissing in the sun. When 3:30 approaches it's time for me to head back to the Southstreet Seaport for my actual date. The Brit and I hug goodbye, and I don't let go in the natural instance when the hug has ended, and both people normally release. The Brit says, "Do you not want to let go?" I release and say, "No, no I don't." But I know I must. I want to be only slightly late as opposed to very late for my very last date, and with that we say goodbye.

Once I am walking back I am able to look at my phone and realize that the French Guy has texted me that he's actually the one running late and probably won't arrive until around 4:15. I feel relieved that I can actually take my time walking back and really swallow what just happened. I always talk about movie moments. That was totally a movie moment. I remember the Brit saying, "I don't know why, but when I woke up this morning something told me to come here today." It was like some cosmic force. Weird but magical all at once. As soon as I reach the museum, I text the French Guy that I'm sitting on one of the stone benches in front. While I'm waiting I have time to take in and just really enjoy the atmosphere of the Southstreet Seaport. I have spent many a night here. In fact, I remember when I first moved here, Dawn and I were both completely new to the City, and neither one of us knew very many people so we did this thing where every Friday night we would go eat at a different restaurant at the Southstreet Seaport. I've seriously eaten at all of them. That lasted for about the first month, and then pretty soon after that I joined match.com and started going on more dates than not on the weekends, and life just kind of swept in and introduced me to NYC beyond this neighborhood, but I will say that the one thing that really struck me about this neighborhood when I first moved here is that it didn't remind me of NYC at all. I've never seen it featured in any movies, and when Dawn and I would eat at the outdoor seating of all the restaurants because the weather was still so nice back in September, I remember always feeling like I was somewhere in Europe. I absolutely loved it. Southstreet Seaport, you may not ever be the most well known of the NYC neighborhoods, but I will always heart you just a little something extra.

Around 4:30 I finally see the French Guy approaching. He is dressed appropriately for the upcoming summer season all in white. It's fitting because it totally matches the white summer dress I am wearing. It looks like we coordinated without even trying. I wave, and I get up to meet him. We hug each other. The French Guy is cute. He is a short guy, maybe 5'6, but he's attractive in that French sort of way. I know I usually go on and on about my little international fantasies of British, Australian, Latin guys, but honestly I've never thought much about dating a French guy. I wouldn't be opposed to it, but I guess I just never knew much about them growing up. The thing that does ring in my mind is Paris and how it's the city of love, and that's where this guy is from so maybe in some subconscious way I was anticipating at least a mock romantic situation for my 50th date, and I chose him. In any case, we go into the museum and get the tickets. The ticket includes access to the museum as well as two of the boats over in the harbor. The French guy suggests that we go look at the boats first because it is so nice out. I concur.

We walk over to the water, and we climb on the first boat and have a look around. This totally reminds me of the Intrepid Museum how you get to tour the actual ship. It is vast and expansive, and I get to learn about the French Guy as we explore. He lives in New Jersey actually. He's been there for about 8 years. He is a pilot, but he flies privately for a very wealthy businessman and his wife. He grew up in Paris, and he has that charming accent. He says his grandmother lived in NYC so as a child he would come visit her every year. He was in love with this place and always dreamed of living here someday. He has a very nice schedule. He only flies about two days out of the week, and he has the other five to explore at his leisure usually in the City. We segue to the second boat. Just as we're approaching, I hear my name being called, "Carole." I look up, and it's Dawn. It looks like she's working the second ship. We climb onboard, and I introduce her to the French Guy. I say, "I told you I would come visit you." I mention that she's from Pennsylvania, and then I tell Dawn, "He's from France," very excitedly. Dawn says, "So a French Guy on match.com in America." He smiles sheepishly and says, "Yes, but only recently." I tell her we're gonna have a look around.

Since it's been brought up we go ahead and talk about match.com. He joined a couple of months ago mainly because he got tired to dating Jersey girls. He says he finds them to be very narrow, and he couldn't do it anymore. He says he's been on about four dates so far. I ask, "So have you had any luck?" He says, "I liked them all." I smile and say, "Yeah, there's a lot of good people out there. I've met some nice guys as well." As we walk around the ship, it's amazing. The wood is crisp and polished. My favorite part is standing on the deck as the wind breezes by. We say goodbye to Dawn, and we make our way back to the museum portion. There's a special exhibit on the Normandie and on FDR's collection of model ships. We walk through. It's interesting, but I have to say that I think the actual ships were the best part of this museum. At 6 pm the museum is closing, and we exit out.

The French Guy suggests that we get coffee first since it is still so early. We stop at J.P. Mustard since it has nice outdoor seating. It's funny because this is the very first restaurant I ever ate at here so many months ago. Okay, in case you can't tell I am feeling a tad bit sentimental and aware of how quickly time passes and exactly how many memories it is possible to make in 3 quarters of a year. It's immeasurable. So far, I like the French Guy. I can't really tell if he likes me. He's a bit hard to read, but he's very nice and easy to be around. Oh, and of course, I like his accent which is subtle because he's been living in America for so long. Plus, he grew up speaking English so he's been bilingual his entire life. He says he loves NYC, but the one thing it's missing is tons of cafes. He says they are literally on every corner in Paris. I'm actually excited to talk to him about Paris. I tell him that I visited 10 years ago and absolutely loved it. I say, "I know French people have a reputation for being rude, but actually I didn't find that to be the case at all. I mean maybe they were making fun of me, and I just didn't understand, but I didn't have any bad experiences while I was there." He says, "Yes, in tourist areas people can be rude just because they don't need the business. There will always be more tourists, but in general, Parisians do not hate Americans." I tell him a funny story about how when I was in Paris I didn't know what the word for water was, and me and my friend has the hardest time getting the waiters to understand that we just wanted to drink water. I ask him what the word is, and he says it's eau. I say, "That's it. I better remember that for future reference."

The French Guy orders an espresso, and I order a tea, and we talk about his experiences with love. He actually just got out of a relationship a few months ago. They were together for four years. She was an American girl. This is a bit of a red flag. Not the American or the four years but the a few months ago part. I think maybe it's too soon for him, but surely he knows himself best of all. I ask him what kinds of girls he's dated, and he tells me a variety. He's dated white American girls and Latin girls and a couple of Asian ones. He is very French in his thinking. He does not put relationships in terms of having to last forever or having to be final destinations. Instead he values them in the moment and remains friends with his ex's and on occasion dates more than one girl at a time. He's very free and liberated, and maybe I should retract that it's too soon for him to be looking for anything serious. He strikes me as the kind of person who does exactly what is right for him in every moment of the day. He tells me that part of the problem he had with the Thai girl he dated was that she had no opinion about anything. She just agreed with everything, and he couldn't take it. He wants a woman who definitely has an opinion.

I have an opinion. I tell him that I really love the French way of life and actually the European way of life as a whole. It's my perception that people really enjoy their lives, and they have everything in moderation. I like the idea of really pleasuring your experience in this world. The French Guy tells me that he loves America, but when he has children he does not want them to be raised in America. He does not like the education system here. I ask him if the fact that he will not live here forever is what caused the break-up with his girlfriend, and he says, "No, rather it was that she is a very independent person. She does not know if she even wants to have kids at all." So I'm beginning to see that the French Guy definitely likes strong women.

After we finish our beverages, the French Guy tells me that he knows a lovely French restaurant in Chelsea that is run by French people and is very authentic. I get really excited because it will be just like that time the Cuban took me to a Spanish restaurant on our first date. The French guy will be speaking in French, and I ask him if he will order for me. He says, "But of course." The French Guy drove in from Jersey so we walk to his car. It's nice. It's a white BMW. We get inside and start making our way down the street. I suddenly start realizing I've waited way too long to eat. I only had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and since I ran into the Brit I didn't have time to grab lunch so I am literally famished at this point. I'm feeling a bit light headed and queasy, but I don't want to freak the French Guy out so I just comment on how nice the sun roof is. I ask him if he ever uses it, and he opens it for me. I ask if I can put the window down because it's so nice out. He lets me. And then we get stuck on this one tight street behind a giant bus and construction. We're not moving. I'm starting to feel really weird and nauseous from the hunger. I have to say that given the alternative of being on a subway at this point, this is still definitely better, but I'm kind of wiggling around and shifting from side to side to take my mind off of being so hungry. It probably looks like I'm trying to be sexual though I'm just trying not to hurl. It's so funny how sensuality and nausea can resemble each other if no context is given.

Finally, finally we get to moving, and the breeze starts coming in the car, and I think I'll make it to dinner, but I still can't help but ask the French Guy, "Are you not totally starving right now?" He says, "Yes, I am very, very hungry." I say, "Oh, my stomach's eating itself right now," as I squeeze the handgrip from the ceiling. Eventually we arrive at the restaurant which is called Gascogne, and I have to say I don't think I've ever been happier to see a restaurant in all of my dates. I would have seriously settled for some street meat at this point, but this is more charming than I could have imagined. The French Guy requests a table out in the garden in back. When we get outside I feel like I am in Paris. It is so cute and so quaint, and this is absolutely the perfect restaurant to end my 50 first dates at. It is in open air, and there are lights strung across the top just like in the city of lights itself. We look at the menu, and it looks divine. I immediately ask if we can get escargot. Come on, you all know me by this point in the journey. Would you expect anything less? The French Guy certainly wouldn't. He loves that I'm so adamant, and we also get an accompanying appetizer with goat cheese. For the main course, the French Guy recommends the duck confit so I choose that, and he gets a different duck dish. We decide on a rose wine to go along with everything. The French Guy orders everything in French, and this I find to be so sexy and appealing. When he is done I say, "I love hearing you speak French. That is so cool." He says, "I can speak more." This whole scene is so very French, and I decide to be totally in the moment when I completely tackle the bread basket. OMG, the minute I bite into the buttery bread, I am happy beyond belief that I made it here without passing out from hunger.

I tell the French Guy that my favorite thing about Paris was the food. I remember every night going to different restaurants and having the three course meal, and it would last typically around 3 hours. Eating is such an event and such an artform there. You gotta love that. Sporadically the French waitress comes around and refills our wine or water glass. I take to saying merci everytime instead of thank you. The French Guy says, "You are very cute. You love saying merci." I say, "It's because it's the only word I know in French. Well, and also oui and bon jour and au revoir." He says, "Aah, you are very good." I say, "No, no." The food is absolutely amazing at this French joint. Every morsel feels and tastes like it was prepared with the utmost care. The escargot is outstanding. It's baked in these adorable crispy shells that are almost too pretty to eat. That's the thing with good French food. It's all about presentation. When the duck comes I say, "It's too pretty to eat. I'm just going to sit and stare at it the whole night. You go ahead." He laughs, and he says, "Bon Appetit." I say, "Oh, that's right. I forgot I know that phrase, too. In Japanese, we say Itedakimasu before we eat." He says, "E-tay-doki-mos?" I say, "Yep," and we chow down, but we don't eat like Americans on this night. We savor every bite. We interchange it with sips of delicious wine. We hold the flavor in our mouths for just a few seconds more than we normally would. We enjoy this food doubly as much because we were so hungry and because the company is so good.

I am really loving this cultural exchange with the French guy. He's a great guy. I tell him about my experiences in Paris, about how much I loved the Eiffel Tower and Versailles and the Louvre and the pastry shops--the dozens and dozens of pastry shops on every corner. I tell him about how I adored the eclairs, and I would have one every morning. He smiles and nods in acknowledgment. I then tell him that at one of the pastry shops there was a pastry shaped like a pig. He says, "A pig?" I say, "Yes, you know the animal. It was pink on the outside, and it had the snout, and when you bit in it was all chocolate inside. Very French." He says, "I don't think I have ever seen that one. Where was the pastry shop?" I say, "I don't know. I think it was somewhere near the Eiffel Tower." I also tell him about how I went to the cemetary where Jim Morrison is buried and the red light district and the really funky part where all the artists hang out. I can't remember the name of it. He refreshes my memory, and I tell him about getting a henna tattoo there. I say, "French people are really goofy, aren't they? That's the feeling I get." He says, "Do you think so? I used to think I was funny in France, but now I do not feel like I am so funny in America." I ask him if French people are really into physical comedy because I heard Jerry Lewis is super popular over there. He tells me that every American he's ever met has asked that question, but he in fact doesn't even know who Jerry Lewis is.

He gets a text message in the middle of the meal from his ex-girlfriend letting him know that her folks will be in town next week and wants to know if he can join them for dinner. Sure, I know they have a ton of history, and I'm sure he was close with her family, but this is what I'm talking about with maybe it's too soon. He tells me that he actually doesn't want to go, but his parents were in town a few months ago, and his ex-girlfriend got together with them so maybe that's why she is asking him to reciprocate. He excuses himself to the restroom, and while he is gone our desserts come. Yes, that was plural. We order a creme brulee, and a French chocolate cake. There is an older couple who have been sitting next to us the entire night, and the older gentleman asks me about what we ordered. We make some small talk, and then he says, "I heard you talking about your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. Forget about her, Honey. It's the past. Don't talk about her." Spoken straight from the lips of a guy who looks like he's been married about 40 years. I laugh and tell him, "I won't bring her up anymore." It also makes me realize that I guess we seem comfortable together because this guy automatically assumed the French Guy was my boyfriend. I think back on all the dozens of men and dates, and I wonder what percentage of them it looked like we had known each other for ages and what portion it was painfully obvious that it was an awkward first date. I actually haven't had that many awkward first dates luckily. Most of them have been so much fun, but yes, definitely some have been more comfortable and more rewarding than others.

When the French Guy returns we dig into the desserts. We each eat half of each dessert. They are fantastically French in every way. So pretty, so well prepared, so light and not over the top filling. I love the fact that you never feel stuffed after a French meal yet you feel entirely satisfied. I'm definitely a big ole fan of French cuisine. Once we've finished everything I look at my watch. It's about 10 o'clock. I say, "Wow, that was just like in Paris. A three hour meal. I am so happy and satisfied at this moment." He looks at me very seriously but smiling and says, "I needed that meal. It had been too long since I had such a good French meal. I must come back here more often." He asks me if I would like to go for a drink somewhere. I say sure. We walk up the street a few blocks until we come to the Westside Tavern. The French Guy tells me that he used to come here quite often. Knowing I've been drinking wine all night, I order a Chardonnay, and the French Guy orders a beer. We take a seat in back.

I don't know what to tell you, but I've actually had a really good time on this date. Even though the French Guy thinks he is not funny, I think that he is. Even though he's shorter than what I usually go for, I still find him to be quite attractive. Even though I've never had a thing for French guys, over the course of this date I've come to see how terribly charming the accent and outlook on life is. Honestly I can't even begin to go into detail about the number of other topics we touched on. They ranged from French celebrities and movies to other parts of America and growing up in France. I ask the French Guy what the most number of girls he's ever dated at one time is, and he says 3. I ask him how long he was able to sustain that, and he says only a couple of months. He says he didn't like it because you become too tired, and you just burn out. I ask him if a clear favorite emerged or if he just ended up letting all of them go and starting over fresh. He says the latter, and that probably goes back to the fact that if you are spreading yourself around to 3 people, regardless of whether you are the only one in their life or not, you only have enough of yourself to really soak up about a third of any one person. Or maybe if you are dating someone extraordinary amongst the 3, that one will shine through regardless, and eventually you will pick that one person. I don't know. I can't say because I've never dated 3 people consistently at once.

I ask the French Guy what drew him to my profile. He thinks for a moment, and he says, "Well, you had a lovely smile, and you just seemed cool." I laugh and say, "Really? In what way did I seem 'cool'?" He says, "I don't know. Just something in the way you would respond back in the emails. You seemed like a real person. What drew you to my profile?" I say, "Hmm...I thought it was cool that you were a pilot, and I thought it was neat that you were from France. I was excited to talk about France with you." And the utmost truth is that it has been fun to talk a lot about France this evening. Paris is somewhere I would like to go back to visit or maybe even live in someday. Of course, I know I would need to expand my French vocabulary beyond the five phrases I currently know, but it just seems like a phenomenal city and along with London, Rome, Barcelona, Sydney, San Francisco, and Hawaii might someday be in my future and be comparable to my palette with that of NYC. The future is wide open and there for the taking and the pure pleasurable enjoyment even if I'm only American and not French.

Once we finish our drinks, it is time for me to retire back to the Financial District for the evening. We leave the bar, and the French Guy offers me his arm as we stroll back to his car. On the way home, I'm trying to work out what it is I feel for the French Guy. I have had such a lovely time with him. I would spend more time with him. He told me earlier in the night that he actually enjoys the company of women in friendship over men, and he has tons of platonic lady friends. I would definitely sign up for this category if he offers me a spot, but this whole night has been so romantical, and I'm not sure what he is thinking. And maybe in the end, I'm already in too deep with my feelings as far as the Brit goes. It was so trippy running into him. I had once joked that maybe he could reemerge and be my 50th first date, and it could be symbolic of us making this fresh start without all the complications of the other men, and in a way maybe he truly was my 50th date by the water with the ice cream, and the French Guy is 51, but for all intents and purposes we'll keep the numbers as is. The French Guy drops me on the corner near my apartment, and we hug goodbye. I say, "How do they do in France? A kiss on each side?" He says yes, and I lean to the left and kiss with the exaggerated "muahh" sound and lean to the right and do the same. I say merci bo cu to the French Guy for a wonderful night, and we bid au revoir.

When I get home I check my phone, and there's a text from the Cuban. The dialogue goes like this:

Cuban: I'm watching Serendipity. I wanna go back there. Such good desserts.
Me: Payday is Friday. Let's go. My treat.
Cuban: A couple of weeks from now would be better. I'm watching my diet for my beach bod.
Me: Hah! Ok. I won't interfere with your bsb (beach sexy body), but would you like to have dinner with me? Seriously it's your last chance to make a cameo in my blog, and it'd be a heck of a lot of fun to hang out. Your pick, my treat.
Cuban: Maybe we could go for sushi. We both like that, and that's light for a restaurant meal.
Me: Cool. Send me the details whenever.

It's so weird how the Brit and the Cuban always show up on the same day. My psychic bond powers must be in overdrive as I wind this down. In any event, I have a lot to think about this next week, and I have to figure out what I really want and where I'm going in life beyond 50 first dates in NYC and off the written page. Stay tuned for my final conclusions on things to be posted within the week!!

Southstreet Seaport Museum: http://www.seany.org/
JP Mustard: http://newyork.metromix.com/restaurants/sandwiches/j-p-mustard-financial-district/58138/content
Gascogne: http://www.gascognenyc.com/
Westside Tavern: http://www.westsidetavern.com/

Date #49--The Old Guy

2010-05-18T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday afternoon, and I am going to meet the Old Guy at the aquarium. The aquarium is a bit of a hidden treasure. Afterall, many people who I've mentioned it to actually respond that they had no idea NYC even had an aquarium. It is in fact located in Brooklyn right next to Coney Island. I've been wanting to check it out for some time. Afterall, I've already made it to the Bronx Zoo. Plus, I absolutely love aquariums. I usually try to go whenever I get a chance in various random places such as California, Houston, San Antonio, Hawaii, Atlanta, and even Japan. Why not New York as well? The only problem is that when I arrive to the train station on this particular day, I notice that the train system is in an especially screwy state. I live in a major hubub as far as the subway system is concerned. It's usually relatively easy to catch the 2, 3, 4, 5, A, or C. However, today 4 of those trains are not running. Only the 2/3 is in service. I need one of the alphabet trains. I will need to walk a few blocks over. I am going to be late for the 1:00 pm meet-up. I finally find the train I need, and I take it to another stop where I am to transfer to the F. It gets worse. The F is not running for a large chunk of my journey, and instead I'll need to take a transfer shuttle bus. So I spend the rest of the commute on a bus on the highway and then back on the F train but above ground where I can see what an entirely awesome and beautiful day it is. This is perfect aquarium weather. I cannot wait.

I guess I should give a little background on the Old Guy. He's not really that old. He's 47, but in my life and for what I'm looking for, that's out of the range I usually go for. There are always exceptions to every rule, but I just find that guys who are generally over the age of 35 tend to be a bit too mature for me, and by that I mean they're oftentimes too serious, and they kind of act their age, and at the end of the day, I need a guy who can keep up with me. Women have more energy than men to begin with, and I'm just terribly young at heart that I usually have more luck with guys who are younger than me actually. Plus, I think people are usually a product of their environment. My mom was five years older than my dad so maybe that's why I've never seen it as strange for the chick to be a bit older than the guy. The age specifications that I requested on my profile are 25-39. Given this information, I ordinarily wouldn't even go out with the Old Guy based upon our 15 year age gap, but I kind of thought I should give it a shot. I've never really dated anyone a lot older than me, and instead I usually go down. That sounded weird, but you know what I mean. Since I really wanted a broad picture of the dating world and to make sure I wasn't ruling out the possibility for something based strictly on age, I decided to give the Old Guy a shot.

I text the Old Guy that I'll be about 20 minutes late due to the horrible switchups with the train system today. He writes back that it's no worries, and he's in the second line to the left getting the tickets. Once I reach the next to the last stop on the F train, I emerge to see Coney Island beaming in the distance. It seems only yesterday I shared a fun day here with the Brit, and yet at the same time so much has happened since then. I look, and I see that the Cyclone is up and running, and when I reach the boardwalk, there are plenty of people out and about enjoying the lovely weather. It really feels like summer is just about here. I make my way to the aquarium. Sure enough there are several lines, and I look at the one second to the left. Instead of trying to scan the line I decide to just call the Old Guy, and just as it's ringing I see him approaching. I smile, wave, and put down my phone. He's more robust than I was originally imagining, definitely stout. He approaches me with a smile as well, and there's something that seems very warm about him.

He says hi and shakes my hand, and I apologize for being late. I say, "I'm so sorry. The trains are all messed up today. At one point I was on a bus so I don't know what's going on." He doesn't seem to mind. He holds up the tickets and says, "It's perfect timing." I ask him where he lives, and he tells me he actually just lives right up the street. He's a retired cop, and he used to work the beat right here at Coney Island. He's a true, authentic New Yorker. He suggests that we make our way into the aquarium. I observe to him that there are a ton of kids here today as we maneuver our way around the tiny little running bodies and strollers everywhere. Let me explain something. I like kids. I definitely want to have them someday, but I am not what I would term a "kid" person. There are some people who absolutely go nuts for kids and will be found playing with every random child they see in the grocery store, etc. That's never gonna be me. I mean I definitely think they're cute, but I always find myself interacting with them more as little people than something other than that. I don't do that "baby/kid" speak whatever that is, and I don't try to talk to them like they don't understand. Kids totally understand. At what point is it that adults forget that they were totally coherent and aware as kids so I appreciate a good conversation with an 8 year old once in a while. But in the same breath, in situations like this one at the aquarium I know that things can get a bit shaky at a certain hour of the day. Seriously whenever you are at an aquarium, zoo, amusement park, etc, children start to have meltdowns right around 3-4 pm. All Hell breaks loose, and they suddenly decide this is not a fun environment anymore. I'm looking forward to enjoying the aquarium before these little tykes start breaking down today.

So the Old Guy and I start walking around, and it's a pretty nice layout. They have the giant indoor tanks with the colorful tropical fish, and there's the outdoor portion with the seals, sea lions, and walruses. The Old Guy has been to the aquarium many times, and he sort of takes on the role of tour guide showing me this and that and pointing out things of interest. I always kind of like it when a guy takes charge and plans out the route at places such as this. It's because I'm really bad with directions, and I always feel overwhelmed when I see a map with everything laid out, and I want to see everything so I never really know where to start. It's great if there's somebody who's willing to take on that job. The Old Guy leads me around. We actually don't do that much small talk about anything outside of the aquarium. Instead the Old Guy mainly points out the animals, and we watch in awe as the seals get fed, or the walrus takes a dive into the water. This sounds really weird, but I kind of feel like I'm with a dad--not my dad but A dad. The Old Guy has a very fatherly presence. He seems very patient and calm, and he seems like he should be here with his own small children or maybe grandchildren if he had gotten started super duper early.

He seems to like the fact that I'm enjoying the aquarium so much. I ooh and aah at each new attraction. I really am having a great time. People have often told me that they like seeing me get excited about things, and I'm not really sure why, but I think it's probably because I give off a childlike wonder type vibe, and it's totally genuine. It's my feeling that, of course, everyone has this as a kid, but at a certain point in life you kind of lose it. This usually happens just through the course of life and responsibilities and everyday stressors, but sometimes you meet people who have been able to retain it. I think that once you let go of it, it is extremely difficult and maybe even entirely impossible to ever get it back. I guess you could say that's why I've been holding onto it for so long. Honestly I hope I never lose it, but I don't think it's something you can consciously control. I don't think anyone ever goes around thinking, "I want to get rid of this childlike amusement at things." I think sometimes you just wake up, and it's gone, but hopefully I'll be able to sustain mine. I'm 32, and it hasn't really wavered so maybe I'm doing okay.

I think the people that I'm drawn to also tend to usually possess this quality--that ingrained ability to laugh at the absurd and oneself, to enjoy cotton candy on a whim, to get caught in the rain and not care, to get a kick out of playing in a toy store. Yep, I think that's a great way to summarize who exactly I'm looking for, a proverbial Toys 'R Us kid. It's interesting because it seems more than once lately the people who have been responding to my profile have noted that I seem "comfortable in my own skin." I take that as such a compliment. I think when you can proudly proclaim you're a dork and mean it, you are so totally there, but the thing is that not everyone is a dork. Some people are actually really cool, but I'm definitely looking for someone who has both. And I think a large part of what makes that come through is when you get a genuine sense that the person is not trying to fit a mold or create an image or be somebody they think you want them to be. I've met quite a few people on match.com who don't really seem comfortable in their own skin, and it's a bit of a turnoff.

Luckily we're just in time for the 2 pm water show which features the animals doing tricks and such. The Old Guy and I go into the area with the pool and bleachers and take a seat. This totally reminds me of Sea World, but there's no Shamu. Actually it's like a baby kid sister of Sea World. The aquarium as a whole is way smaller, but I appreciate the effort. The trainer comes out, and she does some basic tricks with the seals and walrus. It's really cute. Something about animals performing is so entertaining. As I sit next to the Old Guy I'm kind of amazed that we've gotten this far in, and I still don't know that much about him. He's kind of a quiet, reserved type of guy. I wouldn't say full on shy, but he definitely has the strong, silent type thing going on. Yeah, even if he were 37 or 27, I would probably have to ascertain pretty quickly that he's not my type. He's nice though. I kind of feel like I'm just here watching the show with a friend or maybe the dad of one of my friends. That sounds bad, but yeah I'm just not feeling the older guy thing.

After the show, the Old Guy and I continue on looking at the remainder of the indoor parts that we have not gotten to. We see the sharks, turtles, other random types of fish, manatees, etc. Whenever we're inside it becomes more and more apparent just how many kids are here today. I remember I went to the Bronx Zoo in the middle of December on a day when it was snowing so in a way it was kind of nice because the place was deserted, and there weren't that many kids or even people. I'm sure if I went back today it would be packed, but in any event, I do start to notice that some of the kids are breaking down. I start to hear random cries of dissatisfaction or exhaustion. It's not complete pandemonium, but I know it will be within a 2 hour window. The Old Guy and I head back outside, and we look at the last outdoor area. I decide I want to start getting to know him better so I ask him how long he's been on match.com

The Old Guy tells me that he's been on for a couple of months. I ask him how it's been treating him. He says, "Ok, but there are definitely some crazy broads out there." Okay, this is good. It's story time. I ask him how many women he's met up with, and he pauses for a moment, and he points at me, and he says, "You're the first one." Whoa, that's a little surprising. I ask, "How do you know the women are crazy then?" He says, "Well, I was a cop for many years so I just kind of have an idea what to look for." I'm getting really intrigued and actually wondering what kind of vibes my profile gives off, and he says, "For one thing, a lot of the women who say they are in New York are not in New York." I respond, "You mean like a fake profile?" He says, "Not necessarily fake, but there's one option to pick where in NYC you're living. I think it says something like Radio City, NY, and if a woman has that, I know she's not in New York." I ask, "Why would women lie about being in NYC?" He says, "It's my experience that these women are somewhere else, but they want to find a way to get to New York."

Hmm...interesting. We realize we've seen the whole aquarium, and the Old Guy suggests that we park ourselves at one of the tables in the middle and get to know each other. I say, "What other things do you look for in a profile when you're trying to spot the crazies?" He says, "Well, it's not necessarily crazy, but whenever I see a profile where they've written top to bottom and filled every single space up, then I can tell that the person's not really looking for a serious relationship." I kind of think about how my profile is a bit lengthy. I can't help myself, and I ask, "So what did you think when you read my profile?" He says, "I could tell you weren't from New York right away." I bust out laughing, and I ask, "What gave it away?" He says, "You were so quick to want to meet up." I say, "Oh, are women in New York usually more cautious?" He says, "Yeah, and I could tell you were honest. You didn't seem like a psychopath." This is a relief though I do start to wonder what he would have to say about my whole dating project.

We continue talking, and he also observes that a large number of women put on their profiles that they have either skydived or they want to go skydiving. I ask, "So what does that say to you? They're trying to seem adventurous?" He says, "It's not that they're trying, but it says to me that there are women that live their lives a certain way, and there are others who want to, but something is holding them back." I think that's a keen observation. I would totally say I've always wanted to sky dive, but I never have. I wonder what's holding me back. I think it's definitely one of those things that if you think too much about it you'll never do it so at a certain point you just gotta strap the chute on your back and get to jumping. The thing I'm taking away from this conversation with the Old Guy is that from being on the police force for twenty years, he seems to have a heightened sense of awareness of things. I wouldn't call it paranoia because of his line of work, but for someone like me I think it would seem paranoid. My brother #3 is a cop, and he's very similar in this regard. He's always very on guard about reading people and situations, and sometimes I'm just like, "Dude, relax. Not everyone is out to get you." He's not that bad, but being in law enforcement definitely makes you view the world in a different way.

I'm definitely not interested in dating the Old Guy, but I have to say that he's so knowledgeable that I'm actually enjoying the conversation. He knows a lot about the underbelly of NYC. I ask him random questions about going undercover, interrogating suspects, and the mafia. Apparently it's still alive and well, and there's also a Russian mafia and a Chinese mafia. I ask him if there's a Cuban mafia because I remember I used to always joke with the Cuban that he was a part of it because he's so secretive, and the Old Guy confirms that it does exist. The Old Guy really reminds me of some character you would see on one of those cop shows from the 1980s like Hill Street Blues. He would be playing the Police Chief that reprimands the cocky, newbie cops every episode. I'm enthralled with his stories, but it doesn't feel romantic in any sense. Instead I kind of feel like he's a teacher or something, and I'm just learning from his experiences. It doesn't really feel so very interactive in that regard.

I can't remember so I ask the Old Guy if he was married before. He confirms that he was, but he's been divorced about 10 years, and there were no kids. I don't really know why the Old Guy is still single. He strikes me as someone who would marry a girl from the neighborhood and settle down at the edge of Brooklyn with a bunch of kids and go to Coney Island and the aquarium in the summer. I don't know that he's really going to find what he's looking for on a site like match.com especially when it's filled with eccentric, kooky broads such as myself. I have to be heading back to Manhattan because I am going to a wedding later on this night (Random and I will write more about that later) so I look at my watch, and I tell the Old Guy I should be shoving off because it's probably going to take over an hour to get back to the City. He says okay and starts to walk me back to the F train. I ask him what his plans are for the rest of the day. It's only about 4 pm. He says he'll probably go grocery shopping for his mom who is 84 years old. Wow, that's incredible. It turns out he's the youngest of 7 kids--typical giant Irish American family born and raised in Brooklyn.

Yeah, I know it could never work with a guy like the Old Guy. I think beyond the age gap, our lifestyles and life goals are completely different. I see him being with a very traditional woman who can make a nice home for him and have lots of little Irish babies. It's weird. I do want those things in some alternate form, but I just do not see any chemistry or compatibility happening. I remember when I was in college I had the biggest crush on my poetry professor, Professor St. John. Absolutely loved him. He was about 30 years older than me, and he was just always so calm and said things in such a soothing way and in a nutshell was definitely comfortable in his own skin. I used to come up with excuses to visit him during his office hours. Oh man, if only I were to run into him today...so I'm not saying I'm completely opposed to dating older guys based upon the interaction I have had with the Old Guy today. That's the thing of it. Every person is unique and their own individual in some way. I don't think you can discount a whole category of people based upon one interaction, and in the end thank goodness age is just a number because if it weren't, I wouldn't get to date guys who were younger than me. So with that I decide to have a very pleasant goodbye with the Old Guy. I kind of purposefully held back from letting the Old Guy know too much about me or my views on things just because, for one, I wasn't interested in forming a connection with him, but, for two, I kind of don't want to add fuel to the fire in his perceptions that no one is what they seem. I'd like him to have an ounce of hope that there are still good people out there that you can share a nice day at the aquarium with. I enjoyed it, and as the Old Guy heads off to go play with random kids in the grocery store, hopefully he did, too.

New York Aquarium: http://www.nyaquarium.com/

Date #48--The Editor

2010-05-12T15:45:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there's no need to refresh your memory on this, but I'll just throw it out there in case you're coming in late on this, but my ideal guy on paper would be a Hapa (slang terminology for half Asian/half Caucasian). Actually, my true dream guy would be a Hapa with a British accent with black hair and blue eyes. Okay, I know I'm getting into way too specific territory. I'm sure if I moved to London and searched high and low, I might actually find a guy kind of like this, but then again this hasn't even taken into consideration the personality at all. There's a huge chance we might not click at all, and then I would simply be left with, I'm assuming, a very good looking guy with a fantastic accent. I'm beginning to think here in NYC, it'll have to be a trade-off, and I'll have to have some sparks with either an American hapa or a British white guy. But getting back to the all time fantasy of my hapa soulmate, in a nutshell, the guy would be an exact racial replica of me which if I were in Hawaii, I'm sure would be no great challenge, but here in NYC it has proven to be abundantly more scarce than I would have ever imagined. I did manage to find a couple of previous guys who were in fact exact matches of me, those being the Hapa and the Dancer. Now I've managed to find one last hapa in all of NYC or at least in the world of match.com. Let's face it. Most hapa guys are hapalicious and probably have no need to even be on a dating website. In any event, the third hapa that I have managed to find is half Korean by way of his mom who is from Korea and half white by way of his dad who is from Jersey. You know, it was the typical story of military guy lonely overseas who brings home Asian bride. Basically it's the same story my parents had.

I'm a bit intrigued by the Editor. So basically he only has one picture on his profile, and in the picture his eyes appear to be half closed. I'm not really sure if he was trying to be funny with this, or if this is the way he really looks. I'm totally not trying to be mean, but in the picture he kind of looks like he might be blind because why else would you put this as your normal photo unless you were, of course, extremely eccentric. Well, either way, neither would completely be a deal breaker for me so when he suggests Sunday brunch at Snack Taverna in the West Village, I am looking forward to meeting him. I take the 1 train to Houston, and I start walking towards the restaurant. I get a text from him that he is sitting by the window. Okay, I think this is surely a sign that he's not blind since we're texting each other. I remember that in his email he had written that he'd just come back from a trip to Nepal so he actually has a beard now as opposed to the picture where he is clean shaven and close eyed. Thus, I know I am looking for a dude with a beard. As I approach the restaurant, I can see the table that is right by the window, and I can see the Editor from the back. It's definitely him.

I walk in the restaurant, and he immediately sees me. He gets up to greet me. We hug each other. I say, "Hi, the Editor (insert real name)." He says, "Hi, it's nice to meet you." We sit down and get situated. I ask him if he's looked at the menu. He says, "No, not yet." We both start looking. Ok, just to cue you in. He's not blind. I actually don't think there is anything wrong with his eyes. I'm a bit relieved to see that everything seems to be working properly. He actually has really nice eyes now that I can see them. They are kind of a greenish color, and he has jet black hair. He's actually much MUCH better looking than the one picture he has on his profile. I want to tell him to change that thing immediately. Anyways, the menu looks scrumptious. It's a Greek restaurant. They have many good breakfast selections. I ask the Editor if anything is calling out to him, and he's thinking of an omelette. They do look tempting, but I decide to go with the poached eggs over a lamb stew. Whenever I see lamb on a menu, I feel a pressing urge to order it.

Once the ordering is taken care of, the Editor and I engage in a little getting to know you type chatter. I say, "I like the beard." He says, "Thanks. I actually grew this when I was in Nepal, and I just haven't gotten around to shaving it since I got back." I say, "I think it makes you look very distinguished." He laughs and says, "But for some reason I can't seem to stop stroking it when I'm thinking," and he does the stroking motion. I laugh and say, "It's totally like you're a professor or something. I think the beard makes you look intelligent." He says, "You think so?" I say, "Yeah, you should totally milk that for all it's worth." He's amused. I ask him about Nepal. He has two older brothers, and the middle brother is actually living there right now so he went to visit him, and they went trekking together. I ask him how long he was gone for. He tells me 6 weeks. I gasp, and I say, "That's amazing. You could take off from work for that long?" He says, "Well, I'm a video editor so I work freelance so I'm able to take off, but the only drawback is that you're not making any money while you're doing it." It turns out he edits all sorts of stuff like commercials, music videos, stuff for TV. I ask him if he's edited any movies, and he says no but that's definitely his end goal in all of this.

He says the unfortunate part is that all the movie stuff is mainly based out in LA, and he doesn't know if he wants to move out there to pursue it. I tell him I loved LA, but it's really different from NY. For one thing you have to drive everywhere. He says, "Oh, I am not a fan of driving." I say, "Well, you would probably hate it then." We get back on the topic of Nepal, and I ask him if it was really raw and if he went without showering and stuff. He says, "The whole time I was there, I probably only showered a handful of times." I'm amazed by this. Yes, I know I'm not a typical girl. Most girls get enamored by the promises made in the "Stars and the Moon" song where the guy promises, "And we'll be married in Spain on my yacht today, and we'll honeymoon in Beijing. And you'll meet stars at the parties I throw at my villas in Nice and Paris in June." Sure that's a grandiose way to live, but something about the bare bones experience really excites me. I'm sure I'll always be this way at least until I have kids, and then I could see myself calming down a little bit and traveling more like a normal person, but if you're able to and healthy enough why not get a little dirty every now and again.

The food comes, and I'm excited. I held out from eating anything all morning because I knew this was going to be uberlicious. And indeedy it is. The eggs just spill out when I cut into them, and the lamb stew is fantastic. So the Editor is highly likeable so far. There's something very non-American about him, and it all makes sense when he explains that he actually didn't grow up in America. He grew up in Taiwan and Korea because of his dad's job, but once he reached middle school he ended up going to boarding school in Virginia and then high school in New Hampshire. It seems such an interesting fusion of cultures and probably explains why he seems a bit atypical. I ask him if it was hard to move to America for middle school because that's a tough age to begin with, but the fact that he hadn't grown up in America and didn't know all the cultural references or social cues must have been really challenging. He concurs and tells me that he hated middle school. He says high school was a bit better because it was a school that was filled with kids like him who had lived abroad so they had more commonalities. I think this is why the Editor and I are getting along so well. He's a bit kooky and weird but not in a bad way. Let me explain something. I was a complete NERD in high school. I didn't really fit in with that very mainstream way of being that is so prevalent in small high schools throughout America and even more noticeably so in the South so I think I was kind of over the idea of fitting a mold or a prototype fairly early on. I don't remember what age it was at, but I determined pretty early that it was more important to just be myself and live the life I want to live than to try to achieve some cookie cutter dream that somebody created that was accepted as the norm to follow. Thus, I set off on my path, and since then I've never looked back on a single time period in my life with regret. And confusing as this journey is, I don't think I'll look back on my dating adventures with regret either.

After the brunch is cleared away, the Editor asks me if I'm a dessert person. I say yes, and I ask him if he is. He smiles and says, "I can be." Based on that, we have a look at the dessert menu and decide to get the rice pudding. We eat to the center of the bowl with our spoons, and it is so satisfying. For whatever reason the weather has turned cold again, and I had to pull out my fuscia coat for today, but this warm pudding is exactly what I was craving. The plan for afterwards is to go to the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art. I'm kind of excited about going to this one. I think it will be fun. I'm not a huge comic book collector or anything, but I know enough about the culture to think we will have a lot of visual stimulation. That being said, it probably is a good thing that the Editor is not blind. We leave the restaurant and start walking to the museum which is located in SoHo.

We start talking about animals. I ask the Editor if he likes dogs. Like most guys, he does. I ask him if he likes cats. Like most guys, he does not. He says, "I'm allergic." I bust out laughing. I say, "You will not believe how many guys have told me they are allergic to cats." This is no joke. I'm an animal lover in general, both cats and dogs, and whenever I ask a guy about cats, I would say a good fifty percent of them claim the allergy card. How is it possible that this many men can be allergic to this type of animal, and further why are there way less women who are apparently not allergic to cats? Interesting especially since cats are typically thought of as a woman's pet, particularly an old maid with like 20 cats, ie the Cat Lady. The Editor says, "Well, when I was little I was actually allergic to dogs as well." I respond, "Until when? When you suddenly realized you liked them?" He laughs. I continue, "And somehow that allergy just kind of cleared up. Hmm...interesting." The Editor tells me that actually he never had cats or dogs growing up, but instead the family pet was always a rabbit. They had 3 different ones, but they all kept dying in freak accidents. One jumped off a patio wall and accidentally broke its neck. One accidentally strangled itself in the cage, and one was found decapitated in the yard, probably attacked by a dog.

I mention to him that there's actually a book called "Suicidal Bunnies" that's hilarious. It's basically drawings of bunnies attempting to kill themselves in very creative ways. The Editor cracks up. He totally knows exactly what I'm referencing. I say, "So according to your stories there must be some truth to the idea that rabbits are really suicidal." He says, "Oh yeah, they're on a death mission." Once we get on Broadway, we start looking for the museum, and we realize it's inside a regular looking office building. The security guard directs us to one of the higher floors. This is strange. I've never gone to a museum that was in a high rise building. The elevator door opens, and we walk into this gallery space that is just filled top to bottom with random comic and cartoon art. It's really awesome actually. I could imagine people who are really into comic books being giddy right now. I say to the Editor, "My oldest brother is a huge nerd. He used to have a comic book collection with hundreds of comic books." The Editor is laughing and getting a kick out of it. I continue on, "And he's a total trekkie. He's seen like every episode of every Star Trek series ever made. He used to collect the figures as well." The Editor is laughing even more. I say, "My brother would be so embarrassed if he knew I was telling you this right now." I pause for a moment, and then I say, "Actually no, he wouldn't be. He loves it. It's totally who he is."

There are also plenty of funny pages to take in. There is Peanuts which I absolutely love. I ask the Editor if he's a fan of that, and he doesn't really have an opinion on it. I see Family Circus near the bottom, and I bust out laughing. I ask, "So what about Family Circus? Do you like that?" He says, "I don't really follow it. Why? Is that one funny?" I say, "No, but there's a joke that there's one constant that you can always count on in life--that Family Circus will be round and in the corner and waiting to suck." We look at the Family Circus on display kind of in the corner and sucking, and we laugh. All the classics are here like Blondie, Popeye, Alley Oop, etc. This is actually a cute little museum and quite entertaining. Finally we see an adults only section. This has to be the graphic comics with sex and nudity. We go in, and basically it's just a tiny section the size of a dressing room stall. I tell the Editor about how my hometown is super conservative. In the downtown area, there's this place called Saks that is designed to look like a lingerie store on the outside, but you go inside and in the back it's totally a sex shop. There are all these dildos and sex toys. It's so scandalous for my town. Whenever my friends from LA would come to visit, I would always include it on the walking tour of Texarkana just because it's so racy. There was another time some people tried to open a strip club called Babydolls in my hometown. That thing got shut down so fast. The way the town was able to close it was by citing that it was located within a certain number of feet from a church. That's my hometown.

It doesn't take long to go through the museum, and afterwards the Editor asks me if I want to take a walk through Chinatown. I say sure. I tell him how much I love it there. It is the very best place for cheap eats in the city. The Editor actually lived for 3 years post college in Beijing where he was working so he is fluent in Mandarin. I ask him if this reminds him of China, and he says not really. He says the one in Queens is moreso. At this point in the date, I have to say that I like the Editor. He's really easy to be around. I like that he laughs ALOT. He definitely laughs at my stupid jokes, and he seems really engaged when I'm telling a story. One of my biggest pet peeves is when a guy cuts me off when I'm talking, or it seems like he's just waiting for his turn to talk. This drives me nuts, and I'm not the kind of person who will get in there and be like "Shut up." Instead I'll just decide that we're not compatible. The Editor is definitely not like that, and it's refreshing.

He takes me to one of the marketplaces in Chinatown that is super crowded and filled with people buying their groceries for the week. After that he says he knows of a good bubble tea place called Ten Ren's. I find bubble tea to be very refreshing so I get excited. Once we get there, the sign says that it's from Taiwan. We both order a regular tea with the tapioca balls. There's a cup on the counter holding the chubby straws that are used to sip the bubbles up. There's only one blue one left in the bunch. I grab it and give it to the Editor. I say, "Here, I know you want the blue one. It's the only one left." I grab a hot pink one for myself. The place is packed so we decide to take our bubble tea and walk. We happen upon a park that totally looks like it's straight out of China. There are old guys playing mahjong around all of the tables and groups of people crowded around and watching on this chilly Sunday afternoon. I love it.

I ask the Editor, "So what is with your profile?" He immediately starts cracking up. I'm relieved because I thought I was going to have to ease into it, but apparently he knows exactly what I'm talking about. He says, "Oh, yeah, I just kind of threw my profile together. That was the one photo I had laying around." I say, "Your eyes are kind of halfway closed in the picture. I was almost thinking you might be blind when I first saw it." He laughs and says, "No, I think I was just kind of wasted in the picture. Honestly I signed up, and then I went to Nepal and just kind of forgot about it. I should really do something about that." I say, "Yeah, you're an editor. I'm sure you can do something. You should put a picture of yourself with the beard." He agrees that he will go back and adjust it. All the while he is laughing. He's such a jovial soul. I like his spirit. I would be friends with this guy. I like that he's a bit strange and kind of an everywhere man. I don't know if I'm terribly attracted to him. I do think he's cute, and I think we have good personality chemistry. I've been saying that a lot lately--that I'd like to be friends with some of these guys. I remember in the beginning I was very quick to cut the chord. If I didn't feel a spark, I didn't really try to draw it out at all. Maybe me being more receptive to continuing contact with some of these dudes even on just a purely platonic level is me trying to hold onto my blog in some sense. I don't know. I guess time will help me to figure it out. Timing is so key. I think at whatever stage each of these guys met me at has definitely played a role in my overall perception of the date and them as a person. Or maybe I have gotten somewhat more selective, and I am going out on dates with people I would actually want to be friends with as opposed to some of the early guys who there was just nothing about them I wanted to be associated with.

In any case, I have had a fun day with the Editor. He says he's actually attending the birthday party of a friend at around 6 pm so he needs to be heading off. We walk back to the subway, and we say our goodbye. I tell the Editor to kick butt at Rock Band. Apparently it's a Rock Band party. He says, "Will do," and that's that. I hop on the train and head back to my neighborhood. Once I get home it's only about 6 pm, and it's still daylight out. I am loving these long days, and I don't really feel like going home just yet so I take a walk down to the South Street Seaport. I totally have a spot now. It's official. I must be starting to consider NYC my home for right now. It's the third level at Pier 17 with the foldout chairs overlooking the water. It is such an amazing view of the Brooklyn Bridge and Brooklyn across the way and the boats passing by sporadically. You'll recall I came here back in January after my disastrous date with Mr. Quickie. I also came here on the last Sunday in February. I was originally supposed to go out with the Brit that weekend, but I had postponed because I had to study, and I remember taking a break and sitting in one of the foldout chairs eating sushi and thinking. I remember one time asking Dawn if she had a spot in NYC yet. She thought for a moment and she said, "You mean a place I go to be lonely?" I remember thinking I had never really heard it put that way or even really thought of it in those terms.

Maybe it's a place to go to be lonely. I guess it could be depending on your mood, but I would say it's more a place to go to be alone which is definitely different. I know the Brit's place is Coney Island. When I lived in Japan, my place was the top of this mountain in my town. It was a bit of a climb, but once you got up there, it was always so empty, and you were so high up. It seemed the perfect place to have a conversation with God or with myself, usually both. And anyway, I guess this little section on the third level of Pier 17 is my alone spot in NYC at least for now. I'm sure it'll be a lot more crowded once the weather finally turns warm for good, but I've actually preferred it all these months when it's been cold, and the tourist count has been low, and I have been able to sit in any random chair and be completely alone. I went there on the last possible day I realized it wouldn't work out with the Cuban, and I went there the exact moment before I met the Brit, and I realized I was doing okay on my own, and now I sit here today, and I do think about the Brit, and I think maybe one day I'll come here with him, and we can sit in the alone spot together and not be lonely at all.

Snack Taverna: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/snack-taverna/
Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art: http://www.moccany.com/
Ten Ren Tea: http://www.tenren.com/newyork.html

Date #47--The Even Keeled Guy

2010-05-11T17:36:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday afternoon at 3:00 pm, and I'm going to meet the Even Keeled Guy at the Hispanic Society of America. We'll call him EKG for short. This museum is located all the way up on 155th Street. Also, there is no 2/3 express train running today so you guessed it. I take the local 1 train all the way from the very first stop at the Ferry Terminal to my destination. It takes about an hour. When I step above ground, I realize I'm in a very flavorful neighborhood. It's the barrio. There are tons of little shops and bodegas, and it's definitely a Latin neighborhood. I suppose it's fitting that this is where the museum is. I have to say, I like it. I love the parts of NYC that are so totally ethnic and different than what I see in my daily life in Midtown, the Village, and the Financial District. As I'm walking, I look across the street, and I immediately see a very gothic looking piece of architecture. I feel like that must be the museum because it definitely stands out amidst all of the buildings surrounding it. I head in that direction. When I walk inside the gate, there is a huge courtyard. It's sort of castle like. I see him. EKG is sitting on a bench not facing me. As I approach closer, he looks in my direction, and we smile an acknowledgment that we recognize each other.

Per usual, I'm a smidge late because of the train situation or actually because I'm just really bad with time. I greet EKG, and I say, "I'm sorry I'm late. Have you been waiting here long?" He replies cordially that he's only been there a few minutes. I ask him if he's ever been here before, and he tells me no, but apparently we picked a good day to come because it is the first day they are re-opened following a period of closure for some renovations. We decide to go inside and check out the art. The thing I immediately notice is that the walls are painted a vibrant red. To me it seems very indicative of Latin culture. My immediate impression of EKG is that he's a nice guy. He seems easy going and not high strung, and well, even keeled. As we're looking around at the art, EKG and I get to know one another, and I can't quite recall from the profile, but I could almost swear his ethnicity is something related to both Asian and Latin so I ask him, "What is your ethnicity?" He replies, "Me? Oh, I'm Chinese." I ask, "Are you a hundred percent because I thought I remember something about Spanish in your profile?" He says, "Well, my dad is from Ecuador, but he's Chinese. His parents immigrated there, and that's where he was born. My mom is from Hong Kong so, yes, I'm a hundred percent." I say, "So do you speak Spanish?" He says, "I do." It turns out he was born in Ecuador as well and moved to New York when he was about 6 years old so if you can imagine, he looks completely Chinese, but he has somewhat of a Spanish accent in his inflections and the way he says things. It's a bit trippy.

The second floor of the museum is filled with landscapes and portaits of people. They are, of course, all Latin themed either from Mexico or Spain or some part of Central or South America. EKG works in finance, and he lives on the Upper East Side. The conversation is pretty chillax and consistent as we graze through the museum. Just a heads up, if you are interested in checking out this museum, it's free so it's worth the trip way uptown. Once we finish with the museum, EKG suggests that we could take a walk down by the water. I think this is a really good idea. Afterall, I can't imagine when I'll be back in this neighborhood so it might be fun to explore around a little bit. We start going towards the Hudson River, and we notice that it is an extremely windy day. In fact, on my way to the museum, I literally almost got blown over a couple of different times. It seems the wind has not eased up, and it's one of those situations where my hair is being blown rapid fire into my face, and my natural inclination is just to let it blow because it's more trouble than not to try to scoop it away, but since it's important for me to make eye contact with EKG as we walk and talk, I pull my hair back with my left hand and hold it in the shape of a ponytail as the wind gradually swoops out bits and pieces of it with each gust as we walk.

The view by the water is amazing. We see the good old George Washington Bridge in the distance. I swear NYC is so pretty sometimes. This kind of reminds me of the area by the Cloisters though we are not nearly that far north. Still there is a pathway all along the river that leads to a trail through a park. We come to realize that it's Riverside Park. I have heard of this park mainly because I went through a phase back in the winter where I was obsessed with ice skating. My roommate Dawn and I did ice skating Tuesdays for the entire six weeks that we were off from school for winter break, and every Tuesday after work we would meet at a different rink and go ice skating. We went to all of them--Bryant Park, Rockefeller Center, the 2 different rinks in Central Park, Battery Park, and even Chelsea Piers. I remember when I was googling ice skating rinks one came up in Riverside Park as well, and I entertained the idea of going, but it was just so darn far. Thus, the season ended, and we never made it, but there's always next winter.

EKG and I decide to stroll through the park since neither of us have ever been. I have to say it's kind of nice to be in a park other than Central Park. Don't get me wrong. Central Park never gets old. It's like the Met of parks, but there are other ones in NYC. They're just not as famous. We walk all along the railing by the water, and the set-up looks similar to the one near Battery Park. It makes me wonder if this path goes all the way down there continuously. The wind is still blowing tremendously. We happen upon a metal building. We hear loud pop music and smell pizza and popcorn. That cues me in that it must be a roller rink. We go inside and sure enough it is. This brings back memories. Roller skating was huge when I was around 8 years old. I went once in Japan, but other than that my roller skating skills have not been maintained in the least. EKG asks me if I want to go. We look at the sign, and it says that skating hours are from 2-5 and 6-9. I look at my watch. It's 4:40. I say, "Oh, but we would only have 20 minutes to skate. That wouldn't be worth it, would it?" EKG agrees that it's too short of a timespan. Honestly if the rink were open continuously I probably would have gone, but I'm a bit relieved that it's not. Roller skating is much like ice skating. Any activity that is going to involve me having to cling onto somebody because balance is involved is too romantical for a first date...unless, of course, the chemistry is seeming off the charts.

That's the thing. It's not. We're only an hour and a half in, and already the conversation is really dragging. It was fine at the museum, but ever since we left it's been kind of slowly descending downhill. And I'm not attracted to EKG. He's nice but not my slice of life at all. After we leave the roller rink, we keep walking, and we can see Columbia University in the distance. This is neat. I've actually never been to the campus. EKG and I decide to walk through it. It's very beautiful. It's strange to see an actual college campus in Manhattan. I'm so used to my urban experience at the New School or even seeing how NYU is laid out with all of the classes amidst the regular office buildings downtown. I remember when I applied for undergrad college I was either going to go to USC or NYU. I ended up choosing USC just because in the end I thought LA would be easier to adjust to for a little ole Texas girl who had never been out of her hometown, and in the end I'm glad I made the choice not just because of that but also because I had such a traditional college experience. USC is set on the typical huge college campus that's very insulated from the world, and you never really have to leave. It's like a small city really. I think if I had gone to NYU I would have had a much more urban, adultlike undergraduate experience, and it would have shaped me as such. In any event, things turn out the way they are supposed to.

When we exit out of the campus, it's still windy. EKG tells me that he knows a good restaurant. He says it's called the Boat Basin Cafe, and it's right on the water, but it's around 79th St. I say that sounds like it would be really nice. He says it may be problematic because of the wind. I say let's go for it anyway. We hop on the subway and take it down a few blocks. As we're standing on the subway, I'm trying to think what I can talk about with EKG, but nothing is really coming to mind. We've already talked about work, family, travel, culture, education, New York. Obviously any one of these topics is capable of spurring on copious amounts of subtopics, but you have to be with someone who will help you carry the conversation in a number of different directions. EKG kind of lets the convo drop after a few paces everytime, and I find myself not wanting to try, and here's the real pitfall. He's not goofy or silly or even mildly funny. He's pleasant, but that's about it. So I find myself getting distracted by these two gay guys who are holding a dog compartment with two adorable dauschunds. I just stare at the puppy dog eyes looking out into the world probably totally wondering why they're here and where they're going. I kind of find myself thinking the same thing a quarter of the way through this date.

We get off the subway, and there's a little bit of a walk until we reach the restaurant. Once we do, it looks amazing. It's overlooking the water, and the seating is outside. There's no wait to be seated, and we take a look at the menu. It's basically standard burger and comfort food fare. It strikes me as more of a place you go for the atmosphere rather than the food, but it's NYC so I'm sure even the food will be pretty good. I decide to get the shrimp cocktail, and EKG orders the chicken fingers. We decide to split an order of onion rings. We hear some music coming from the courtyard section where people are dancing. It sounds like it might be karaoke. The singer is not very good. He definitely doesn't sound professional, but we can't see who's singing the Bon Jovi cover from where we're sitting. EKG excuses himself to the restroom. Pretty soon the covers continue with Born to Run. This dude must be from Jersey. When EKG returns I ask him if he saw who was singing. He says it is in fact a band. I say, "Wow, really? The singer's not very good."

Our food comes, and the wind is blowing so hard that the waitress makes a barricade using the napkin holder and the ketchup and mustard bottles. We start eating, and I have to say the food is pretty good. I love shrimp so I knew I wouldn't be disappointed, but once again the onion rings are like a sprinkle of Heaven to my palette. If calamari was the it flavor of the first half of this blog, I guess you can say onion rings are doing it for me in the second half. As we're eating, we see table cloths blowing up on the empty tables where no one is sitting. Pretty soon a couple of the tables get blown over on their sides. The guys who work there start folding them up. This wind is crazy. I suppose it's fitting though. I've officially been on many sunny dates, a few rainy dates, a couple of snowy dates, and now the all time windiest date I have to speak of. I have really experienced all four dating seasons here in NYC. I try to think about what EKG and I talk about during our dinner, but nothing really springs to mind. I'm sure we comment on the food and the wind and the songs sung by the cover band. I ask EKG what he wants to do after dinner. Afterall, it is Saturday night in NYC. He doesn't really have an idea so he reciprocates the question. I try to think of the specifically characteristic things that I have yet to do, and I'm almost drawing a blank. Not that I'm running out of ideas in New York. There will always be hundreds beyond my thought capacity, but I have done all the obvious things except for what I suggest. I say, "Have you ever been to Top of the Rock?" EKG says, "No, I've never been up there. It's funny because it's really close to where I work. I pass by there everyday, but I've just never gone." I say, "Do you wanna go?" EKG is even keeled about the decision making and says we should.

After dinner, we head to the Rockefeller Center area. As we're passing Radio City Music Hall, we see a huge line of women in evening gowns waiting to go inside. I say, "I wonder what show is tonight." EKG points to the marquee. I read, "Oprah in NYC for one night only." OMG, Oprah Winfrey is in town. I had no idea. I am so tempted to go up to the box office and just ask if they have any extra tickets just because I have a strong desire to see exactly how loudly someone could laugh directly in my face. Yeah right, there's no way you could score tickets. It's always been one of my dreams to go see the Oprah show in Chicago, and now with her going off the air in 2011, I'm starting to think the window is quickly closing. Plus, I heard it's hard to get tickets regardless even if you live in Chicago, and no one I know from Chicago has ever gone to see her so I know it's all the out of towners who are mooching those tickets.

We go inside Top of the Rock, and the lady at the ticket counter informs us that the top level has been closed due to the high winds, but the bottom level is still open. EKG asks me if I still want to go. I say it's up to him. He says, "Why not." Before we get on the elevator, there's a part where they make you pose for a picture. This is so touristy. EKG drapes his arm around me like we've been dating for a year. I'm thinking, "If he even thinks of buying that photo, I will strongly protest." We get on the elevator. It's going to the 67th floor. Apparently it takes 43 seconds. Once again, I think we're the only Americans on the elevator. We get to the top, and it's a great view. It's been 10 years since I went to the Empire State building so I don't really remember which is better. I should go back and visit it sometime. Plus, that was at night time. This is just before dusk so it's an entirely different experience. We walk around taking in all the angles. The one advantage of this view is that you can actually see the Empire State Building across the way. We look north, and we see Central Park sprawled out in the middle of the City. When viewing the City like this, it makes it so much more discernable what exactly the Upper West Side and the Upper East Side is. We look all around Midtown where we currently are, and then we go to the other side and view Downtown. We can also see Queens, Jersey, and Brooklyn. It's a great view. It's especially creepy when you go outside on the deck and you're in the open air, and you realize the glass partitions don't seem that sturdy.

After awhile we sit in one spot. EKG says he has a good dessert place in mind for afterwards so he starts looking it up on his iphone. I sit next to him looking out at the view, and I realize I feel completely unconnected to this guy. I know we just met, but you know when you are connected to someone or not. There's a lot of laughing. You can't get the words out fast enough because there's so much you want to say about every subject, and every thought leads into an entirely new train of thought. You're enjoying being in the present moment, and you don't feel like you're with a complete stranger as you sit waiting for him to pull up a function on his phone as a beautiful sunset is occurring in the distance. Yep, I am over this date. I kind of just want to go home, but I figure I can stick it out. Afterall, EKG has promised me chocolate, and I can't really turn that down. He can't seem to find the place he was thinking of, but he says he'll take me to Max Brenner instead. Apparently it's a restaurant that specializes in chocolate. I'm in.

We head down to Union Square to check out the chocolate bar. I've seen this place, but I've never been inside. I say to EKG, "We really covered NYC top to bottom today. We literally traveled a total of 143 blocks." EKG just kind of takes in my observation and lets it drop. I'm so over this. The minute we walk inside, you can smell the chocolate all around. Once we're seated and looking at the menu, my observational skills do not fail me, and I can't help but notice how romantic this place is. The lighting is really dark, and there are contemporary ballads playing in the background. The whole place is packed with either couples or duos/groups of girls who are friends. There are no duos/groups of just guys unless they're gay. I would rather be here with a group of girlfriends right now...or a group of gay friends. In any event, EKG and I decide to split a hazelnut crepe concoction with lots of chocolate involved. This place is intense. The menu is literally like 10 pages of chocolate desserts such as fondues, cakes, ice creams, traditional desserts, etc. This is the place to come if you are ever having a horrible PMS day. Once ours comes, I'm really excited. We bite in, and it's delicious. It's a mixture of crepes, chocolate sauce, hazelnut, and bananas. Perfection on a plate.

I have to be honest. At this point I'm really bored and aching for this date to be over. I'm wondering if it's the guy or if I'm actually starting to get bored going on random dates. It could be a combination of both, and if that's the case it's probably a pretty good thing I'm nearly done. Friends often ask me what's next once I reach 50. That's a good question. Hopefully I won't be left with a temporary high and then a true void in thinking "what now?" I don't think I will because I have come pretty close to finding out the things I was searching for answers to when I first started this. And please know that I will be giving a recap of my conclusions once I am done, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm currently on a really pleasant but very boring date.

EKG finally decides to delve below the surface. He asks, "So what do you think is something that would be a deal breaker for you?" I think for a moment. I say, "I don't think I could date someone with a really bad temper or someone who was too serious all the time. I couldn't date someone who was negative all the time either. Those are probably the major ones. How about you?" He replies, "I don't think I could date someone who was too serious either, and I want to be with someone who will get my jokes and laugh at my jokes." I try to think really hard for a moment, and I actually don't recall EKG making any jokes during our entire date. Seriously I would remember because I like to laugh, and there really hasn't been a lot of laughing going on, and I'm really easy to crack up. In all honesty, the cornier the humor, the better it is for me because I'm such a cornball. His statement really reminds me of when you're sitting in a crummy diner where the service sucks and the food is mediocre, and there's a sign on the table the reads, "Have we exceeded your expectations?" and all you can think is, "Exceeded? You haven't even begun to meet my expectations."

We also talk about Serendipity because it's also a great dessert place. EKG says, "Serendipity is one of my favorite movies." I say, "I know. I love John Cusack." He says, "He is really one of my favorite actors." I say, "Me too. Did you see Say Anything? That's my favorite of his." Finally EKG and I are on par. I should have known to go to the movie topic. That is usually no fail. But then the ball drops again. EKG looks at me and says, "I didn't see Say Anything." I say, "Oh, well, what John Cusack movies do you like then?" EKG thinks really hard for a moment. He seems to be drawing a blank. He can't think of any. Dude, you're the one who just said he was your favorite actor. I help him out a little. I say, "Well, obviously you liked Serendipity. I know. I bet you loved High Fidelity." He says he hasn't seen it. What?? I go on, "I don't know any guy who doesn't love High Fidelity because it's all about a guy's perspective and men's fear of commitment. Guys always relate to that movie." EKG says, "I think all guys relate to 500 Days of Summer because every guy has been where that guy has. Every guy has been dumped and gone crazy and then recovered." I think for a minute, and I could see his point, but the whole losing it after a major breakup I think is a universal concept for most people at some point in their life. I always feel a bit suspicious of people who say they've never had their heart truly broken. You haven't really lived until you've survived that. EKG tells me that it happened to him only once a few years ago, and ever since then he stays guarded as a form of self protection. This may explain why he's seemed so even keeled. Maybe it's hard for him to let much of any kind of emotion in these days. I can relate. I think I was that way for a while after the huge disappointment with my ex-boyfriend. Obviously there's no specific formula for how long it takes to get over someone, but rather I think it's more indicative of the steps you actually take to properly grieve and move forward. One theory hypothesizes that it takes half as long as you were actually with the person to really and truly get over them. Well, half of 7 years is 3 and a half years, and the last time I would realistically consider myself having been with him was in the summer of 2006. I'm well past the formulation on that, and if I were to be honest I'd say I was ready to love again probably sometime around a year ago, but I guess being ready to commit again has been an entirely different story indeed.

Whatever the case is, it's time to get the check and bounce. Once we're out of the romantic cave that is Max Brenner, EKG walks me to the subway, and we have a very even keeled goodbye. There was definitely no spark on this one. On the way home, I find myself thinking maybe I should revisit "High Fidelity" sometime. I haven't seen that movie in 10 years, and certainly my perspective has grown and changed and evolved in that time, but more than anything I'm thinking I might be able to relate to the whole fear of commitment that is presented in that movie, and maybe in the end it's much like "500 Days of Summer" in that fear of committing is a universal concept for everyone at some point. Kenny Rogers said it best. "You gotta know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em." Of course, he's talking about poker, but dating is a big gamble, too. You gotta know when to walk away and know when to run. And I suppose in the end you gotta know when to settle down and make a home with someone.

Hispanic Society of America: http://www.hispanicsociety.org/
Boat Basin Cafe: http://www.boatbasincafe.com/
Top of the Rock: http://www.topoftherocknyc.com/
Max Brenner: http://www.maxbrenner.com/

Date #46--The Federal Agent

2010-05-10T17:57:00.000-07:00

Okay so it's pretty obvious I'm on the downhill slide into finishing my little project or experiment or goal or whatever you want to call it of going on 50 first dates in the magical city of New York. Thus, I guess you could say I have a limited number of slots left so I'm actually taking the liberty of becoming a bit pickier and choosier. For much of the time leading up until now, I was pretty open to going out with anyone once just for the wide variety of experiences it brought and extremely diverse personality types. It was only by fully immersing myself that I could clearly come away knowing what I liked, what I didn't like, what made me feel like I could fall in love in 5 minutes flat, and what kinds of things were absolute deal breakers. It's getting harder to get a date with me now. For one, I no longer respond to winkers. In the beginning I would pretty much wink back at anyone who winked at me just because I didn't want to discount them without seeing their writing style first though after 7 and a half months in the match.com rotation, I have to say that the wink function is a bit lame. It's way too easy to go through winking at random profile pics without ever even viewing the profile. Plus, you gotta imagine it's much like in real life. Honestly ladies, if some dude winks at you across a crowded bar are you not going to ever so subtly lean over to one of your girlfriends and say, "Creeper alert at 3 o'clock. That weirdo just winked at me." So even though it's more benign in online dating, I have decided to cut out the winkers in order to narrow down the choices. The one standout quality I'm really looking for in guys who actually write an email is a message with some kind of unique substance as well as someone who looks quite goofy. I've officially changed my profile heading to read, "Dorky, Quirky, Cool. That's me, but is that you?" So maybe this helps to explain why I've been attracting a bit of a fun population, and that's when I receive an email from the Federal Agent.

I was really lured in by his profile pic. It was of him holding a koala bear and making a mock frightened face. Any guy that puts that as the photo he thinks will attract chicks is obviously looking for a certain kind of chick. I'm totally sold when he writes telling me that he's in a kickball league and that he recently switched careers from finance to law enforcement. I'm thinking he's a cop, and I've been wanting to go out with a cop just because I never have so I write back asking him if he would like to go to the Museum of Biblical Art with me. Okay, this is also kind of a screening tool of my own. Yes, I am Christian, but as you know I just like museums in general, all kinds. I happened to come across this one featuring art with Biblical themes so I thought why not, and I also thought that if a guy actually agreed to meet me there, he might be worth considering. I'm halfway expecting him either to shoot the idea down and suggest meeting at Starbucks instead or just altogether not respond. But he writes back that he's actually not a museum person, but he's excited to check it out with me, and he'll meet me there. Then he throws it out there that he has to go to the shooting range (for work). I'm intrigued.

It's 6:30 pm on Thursday, and I have to say that this is my very first weekday date. I usually schedule them for Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, but time is short now, and this museum is open until 8 pm on Thursdays so I thought it would be a good opportunity to check it out. It's once again near Columbus Circle. I start walking up Broadway and manage to make it at least a couple of blocks when I realize I am going in the wrong direction. I quickly turn around and walk in the other direction past the globe. I'm only a few minutes late. As I approach the museum, I see the Federal Agent sitting on a bench in front of the museum. He's dressed very casually in a running shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers. I'm still dressed in my work clothes, and I feel overdressed, but more than that it is just extremely hot out. It feels like spring just got passed directly over, and now summer is showing up. I'm really paranoid that I'm sweating. I know girls are supposed to be all prim and proper, but trust me, we sweat...especially in humid climates such this and Texas and omg don't get me started on the buckets I sweated in Japan while teaching in the middle of July in classrooms with no central air. Luckily today, I think the Secret is holding up.

I wave at him before I actually get to him, and I say, "I'm sorry I'm late. I was completely walking in the wrong direction for like two blocks. Have you been waiting long?" He replies, "No, not at all. Yeah, the streets get confusing around here." The Federal Agent is super friendly right off the bat, and it's really easy to get to know him. I ask him if he wants to go inside. He says, "Yeah, the museum is on the second floor." I say, "Oh, have you been here before?" And he says, "No, but I came in before you showed up because I thought you might have been waiting inside so I just saw that it was upstairs." We go up to the museum, and it's again a relatively small space--only two main rooms. We go inside, and it's filled with beautiful depictions of Christ and other famous characters from the Biblical times. It's very classic looking, and the colors are quite vibrant. I like it. I say to the Federal Agent, "So are you a cop?" He says, "No, I'm actually a federal agent." I say, "Oh, do you mean like the FBI?" He says, "It's similar, but I actually work for Homeland Security." I get really excited. This job is way more exciting than just a blue clothes cop, and this will definitely make up for not getting to meet the creepy detective from way back in the day.

I ask, "So does that mean you can't really talk about your work?" He says, "Yeah, I can't really go into too much detail." But he goes onto tell me that he works on drug cases and missing persons, and he has inside information about the failed bomb attempt in Times Square. His job sounds so cool and exciting. I say, "You've got the coolest job. You're just like Mulder and Scully." He says, "Or Jack Bauer." This, of course, is a much cooler reference to "24." I say, "Wow, my reference was really dated, wasn't it?" He says, "The X-Files? Yeah..." But he's laughing which is a good sign that I'm not too dorky for him. He asks me if I have any plans for the summer. I say, "Yeah, I'm actually taking a trip at the end of the month to Costa Rica." He says, "No way. I'm going to Costa Rica, too." I say, "When are you going there?" He says, "The end of May." I can't believe it. I say, "Maybe we'll run into each other." What is it with Costa Rica? Everyone and their mother is booking a trip there. Well, I do have to admit that the flight was super cheap, but still I've been wanting to go there for a while, but now all of a sudden it seems like everyone else does, too. Oh well, I tell the Federal Agent that it's a good thing we're going now because this is probably the last possible window when you could go before it gets really over the top touristy and civilized. He says he thinks it's probably already getting that way.

Then we start to talk about traveling which is really fun to talk about. The Federal Agent has traveled quite a bit. I tell him how I really like to rough it when I travel. I ask him what his travel style is. He says he doesn't mind roughing it, but when he gets in bed at night, he likes that to at least be comfy. I say, "Yeah, but I don't do any of that five star crap. I am all about the local experience." He agrees, but he says he wouldn't turn it down if someone was offering it for free. I think for a minute, and I say, "Yeah, I suppose if it was free I would take it, but if it's on my dime I am economical all the way." We make our way through the second room, and before we know it we are done. It's still daylight out, and it's a nice day for a walk so the Federal Agent suggests that we just kind of stroll for a bit. We're at the traffic light about to head towards the globe when he asks if I want to walk through the park. I look over, and I say, "What park is that?" He says, "You're kidding, right?" And I say, "Is that Central Park?" Oh yeah, 8 months strong and still rocking the newbie pride. I seriously say to him, "I never ever enter the park from this side. I've walked through Central Park like 5 times, but I always enter it on the other side like where the museums are." He's understanding, and he doesn't even really make fun of me though in a weird way I probably would have given him props if he did just because that was such a slow moment for me. In any event, now I know, and thus we walk.

It is a beautiful spring day. It is so lovely to see people having picnics, groups doing squats on the benches, people running. I am still fascinated by the Federal Agent's job. I ask him if he ever has to go undercover and play a role. He says just recently he pretended like he was a Chinese delivery man in order to knock on a door and see who was inside. Keep in mind he's Korean, and he's American born so he put on a fake accent and everything. I tell him I think it would be so fun to get to role play. I also tell him that when I was younger I used to think it would be fun to be a Narc and get to go undercover and pretend to be a high school student. He says, "Oh, like on 21 Jump Street." I say, "You know it." And then we both start singing the 21 Jump Street theme. I like the Federal Agent. He's silly. When we emerge on the other side of the park, I recognize where we are. We see all the horse drawn carriages, and we slowly walk by. I ask, "Have you ever ridden on one of those before?" He says, "No, have you?" I say, "No, I haven't." He says, "Do you want to go?" I'm actually a bit surprised, and I don't know how serious he is. I look at the sign with the price, and it's $50 for a ride through Central Park. I say, "Oh, but it's really expensive." He says, "But do you want to?" And the truth is, I do. I really, really do. I've been dying to go on one, and I am kind of thinking when will I get to do this again, and ok, the Federal Agent can see that there's an anticipatory excitement in me, and he just says, "Let's do it." Alright, Albert. If you're reading this, this one's for you. You requested this so enjoy the ride as so clearly I am about to.

The carriage that we pick is white with blue velvet cushions. We gradually merge into traffic, and I honestly somewhat can't believe I am getting to write about going on a carriage ride through Central Park. The horse turns onto the little pathway leading into the park, and we pass by the same squatters near the benches that we saw before. Okay, I'll be frank. I've touched on this before, but I'll say it again. There are certain things that are very specifically romantic like ice skating, riding on a ferris wheel, walking on a beach, possibly riding on a boat, and quite possibly at the top of the list is a horse drawn carriage ride especially in NYC. Maybe part of the reason why I don't feel like I need to save the carriage ride is because I remember the Brit telling me he did this with his ex-wife. It's funny because I remember the moment he shared that with me, it almost became something I didn't have a desire to do with him just because he's already had that special carriage ride moment, and it was with someone else. And I would almost just feel like it was a duplication of that first romantic moment only I'm the second girl. But then I think about something, and it totally changes my perspective. I think about my ex-boyfriend the Pianist. We were together for 7 years, and when I say we did everything together, I mean we did everything together. Not only did we play house together for 3 of those 7 years with me cooking dinner every night and us talking about our day every night, we also took roadtrips together all over California and to Texas and back twice. We went on a cruise to Mexico together where everyone thought we were newlyweds. The funny thing is that my ex-boyfriend and I entered a raffle where you put your name in a box, and my ex-boyfriend's name got picked (people actually do win those drawings), and that's how we got to go on the cruise. So that's what I mean by I would definitely not turn it down if offered a luxury vacation. The whole thing was free. We did a beach tour of LA where we would go to a different beach every week, and we definitely walked on them together. We went ice skating, and don't even get me started on the whole ferris wheel scenario. Ya see, over the course of our relationship, we must have shared a romantic moment on a ferris wheel at least half a dozen different times from LA to NorCal and even all the way in China. And those were beautiful moments that I look back on fondly, but those are in the past in some distant room in my heart and mind. When I rode the ferris wheel with the Brit at Coney Island it was equally special in its own way, and never once was I thinking of my ex-boyfriend or comparing the experience or the feeling. Instead I was present and concentrating on making a new beautiful memory.

And even when I lived in Austin the last year before I moved to Japan, I remember the Pianist came to visit me, and there are horse drawn carriages that go around the downtown area at night. We totally went on one, and it was magical and romantical and everything that a carriage ride is supposed to be, but even as I ride this second carriage ride with the Federal Agent I'm not thinking of that ride. Instead I'm in the moment, and I'm just concentrating on making this moment what it is meant to be, nothing more and nothing less. And that's why also if I do date the Brit in the future I could see us going on a carriage ride through Central Park, and like with the ferris wheel I don't think it'll be any less special because he's not the first boy I ever did it with, and I'm not the first girl he ever did it with. Like I even observed to him once, it's not like we're 15. By the time you get to this age, you've had tons of romantic moments and encounters, and it all goes into your history and into making you who you are. I think moments are stand alone things, and there's never a reason to fear it won't be as special because there's been a similar moment beforehand with someone else. Each experience is different and its own memory. It's when you compare things or even people that you start to get in trouble.

So I enjoy the nice leisurely ride all around Central Park. The Federal Agent has his arm kind of resting on the back of the seat, but he can't actually commit to putting it around me. That would make things super duper romantic very quickly. We only met like an hour ago. It's really funny because our carriage gets lapped a couple of different times by other carriages where the horse is conducting a mild trot. I start to wonder why our horse is so slow. It's probably tired. Thinking about the horse drawn carriages actually used to stress me out quite a lot because I worried if the horses were well cared for. I guess I'll never really know the answer, but at least this particular horse looks healthy and well fed, but I still wonder about the acclimation to the traffic. Eventually we wind up back where we started from. We hop off and decide to head for dinner.

The Federal Agent has a place in mind near where he lives. It's on 34th St. in Murray Hill. We decide to walk there since the weather is nice, and it's actually started cooling down by this point. By the time we reach the restaurant which is called Pio Pio, I am starving. It's a Peruvian chicken place. I am really excited to try this. I have not yet had Peruvian chicken in NYC, but I had it in Texas, and it is yums. We go inside, and the Federal Agent tells me that they serve really good sangria so we decide to get a pitcher of that along with a whole chicken and some seviche. Once the food comes, it is oh so succulent. The chicken is juicy and flavored with just the right balance. The seviche is also very tasty, and the sangria could not be more refreshing on a pseudo summer night such as this one. I remind myself that I must get to Peru someday to eat this great food in the motherland and to climb Machu Picchu. Over dinner we talk about a few of the Federal Agent's ex-girlfriends. He actually was living with his ex-girlfriend in Brooklyn, but when they broke up that's when he moved to this neighborhood just a couple of months ago. He tells me about his very first girlfriend who he terms "Crazy!!" He says she was very jealous and insecure and threatened to drive the car off the rode one time. Needless to say he got out of that, but surprisingly they're still friends. She's married now and has a couple of kids, and apparently everytime they're at some group party or something, she corners him and tells him that she still loves him. Sadness. Like I said before, by this point in life we've all got a romantic history and some stories to share over sangria with strangers, and if we're all lucky one day we'll be telling that great romantic story at a dinner party that doesn't yet have an ending because you're sitting next to the love of your life doing that thing only truly great couples do where you share the story together and finish each other's sentences.

After dinner, the Federal Agent asks me if I want to go for another drink. I say sure. We are en route to the corner bar that he usually goes to when I look up, and I say, "What's this place?" It has a star, and it looks very Texas themed. It's called Rodeo Bar. Oh yeah. Enough said. It's decided that we have to go there. Afterall, the night before was Cinco de Mayo, and I didn't partake at all, and this kind of reminds me of a bar I would have gone to on such an occasion. We go inside, and the bar looks like an old abandoned bus. There's Texas paraphanelia all over the walls like buffalo and a deer's head. There's also a live band playing some alternative country music. They're pretty good so we decide to stay. The Federal Agent asks me what I'd like. I order a red wine just to stay on par with what I've been drinking. He orders a beer. We grab a seat. I ask the Federal Agent what it's like to fire a gun. I ask him if it has a kick, and then I hold up an imaginary shotgun and pretend to cock it and fire it and throw my body back pretending to have experienced a kick. He laughs and asks, "How's it go again?" I demonstrate the cock and the kick once more. He seems to get a metaphorical kick out of my pantomime, and he tells me that it's not that bad, but it is loud. He says he actually doesn't enjoy firing a gun that much. It's all part of the job.

Okay, I'll give you the long and short of it. The Federal Agent is a lot of fun. I've had a good time on this date, but in a way I feel a bit reminiscent of date #1 Zoo Guy. This kind of reminds me of how a date might have gone had we done more than just a screen at Au Bon Pain, and I once again find myself asking one of the very first questions I had after that first date so many moons ago. There are a ton of fun, funny, nice, good looking, stable guys out there. What will distinguish one from another? There has to be something special that makes someone stand out from the pack. And maybe that in a phrase is what that oh so indescribable thing called chemistry is. It's when there's something a little extra special there that you just can't define, but you know it feels different than an average fun time. This is a fun time, but is it above average? Yeah, that's where I can't really determine the answer. I would consider going out with the Federal Agent a second time. He falls into the category that the Food Guy, the Hapa, and Sitcom Guy all fell into--definite potential but not fireworks sparks. I guess I should mention that I've decided to revisit each of these candidates a second time before seeing the Brit again. I want to know if the complaint I often get from friends of too quickly dismissing is founded at all. I want to be sure that I'm not passing up the chance to cultivate definite potential into something potentially real. Maybe I just secretly want to see what it's like to be on the "Bachelorette." I don't really, but that's what this sort of feels like knowing I've managed to carve 50 men down to roughly 5 with the clear leads and viewer favorites right there.

And in the end, the Federal Agent walks me to the subway. I already know he will ask me for a follow up date, and I know how I will respond. When he texts me the following day saying, "I had a great time last night. Drinks sometime next week?" I say, "Yes."

Museum of Biblical Art: http://www.mobia.org/
Horse Drawn Carriage Rides in Central Park: http://www.centralpark.com/pages/activities/horse-drawn-carriages.html
Pio Pio: http://www.piopionyc.com/
Rodeo Bar: http://www.rodeobar.com/

Date #45--The Actor

2010-05-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

It is a priceless Sunday afternoon, one of the first truly hot ones of the season. There's not a cloud in the sky, and I have agreed to meet the Actor at the Museum of the American Indian. I'm about to hop on the 4/5 train to Bowling Green when I hear my phone ringing just before I go underground. It's the Actor. I pick it up and say hello. He tells me that he's just getting on the train now. He's coming from Columbia University where he had an audition so he tells me he should be there in about 30 minutes. No worries. Afterall, this basically means that I can now walk to the museum instead of taking the subway, and it is such a perfect day for walking. I start heading down Broadway until I pass the famous bull statue, and there across the street I see the old customs house which is where the museum is housed. It's an impressive building, very stately and old school architecture. I end up plopping right down on the front steps. I'm really happy that it's a great day for just sitting and people watching so I do just that. I see couples and groups of tourists pass by one after the other. Many of them stop and pose for pictures in front of the building. Many of them proceed on inside the museum. Before I know it, I look at my watch, and it's 3:45 pm. The Actor is officially 45 minutes late. Okay, at least he called me to tell me what the situation was, and I'm not too worried about being stood up, but really? Isn't this a tad bit unacceptable. If he knew he had this audition, why didn't he just suggest we meet at 4 pm instead? Granted, I've been anywhere from 5-15 minutes late for a solid portion of my dates. Maybe this is karma coming back to bite me in the arse all in one shot. In any event, I find myself feeling sad all of a sudden. I don't know why really. It's not an overwhelming sadness, but I just see these couples who are in love and these families on vacation, and I think about how I am here alone on these steps waiting to meet this stranger who I probably won't even connect with. I suddenly start thinking about the Brit and how I would love to be spending the day with him. It's happening. I'm starting to miss him, and no, it's not just because this new guy is disappointing me or because I've had to spend the past 45 minutes alone. That would be a major red flag about myself waving in my face. Rather it's realizing that I think I had a pretty good thing going with the Brit, and though I've gone out there and tried to see if there was something comparable, there really hasn't been so far, and honestly I don't think sitting on these steps alone is comparable either. I'd like to be busy falling in love somewhere with someone.

I think for a moment about how very much I would like to be impetuous right now. I would love to just text the Brit and say, "Hey, this is stupid. Let's go have some fun together." But I'm adhering to that old adage that those who don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it. I'm impetuous by nature, always have been, but throughout this journey I've come to see that it usually does more harm than good. Sure, I'm the first to say that spontaneity is good and healthy and fun, but being impetuous when you're not really sure about something leads to even more uncertainty and drama. I feel I was impetuous with the Cuban when I broke things off with him because I was realizing that I liked him too much and inevitably he would let me down, and then I was impetuous with the Brit when I thought for a moment I could completely give up my blog and completely give him myself because I was realizing he liked me too much, and I was gonna let him down if I didn't. In order for relationships to work, they have to be balanced on both sides. One of my friends who has dated lots of different men once told me, "If you have to choose, it's better to date a guy who likes you more than you like him." But where does that leave the guy? I remember talking with the Brit before we took our break, and he asked me on a scale of 1 to 10 how invested I felt. I said probably a 5. He said he was at a 7 or 8 so obviously his feelings were stronger, but here's the thing of it. I still feel like I'm at a 5. My feelings haven't decreased or wavered in the three weeks that he hasn't been in my life. I can't venture to say where he's at, but my best guess is that he's probably gone down to around a 5 since we haven't been cultivating anything or communicating, or who knows? Maybe he's lost interest completely and is well below a 5, but my hunch says that when I see him again we will be at a similar place, and now that my head is really clearing and I realize how good I feel when I'm around him, I think there's a genuine chance we can grow at the same pace together.

Whatever the matter, at a little after 4 pm, I finally see the Actor approaching, and I can put to rest these thoughts for a little while in order to enjoy this date. I get up from the steps, and I'm giggling at his obvious tardiness. I say, "Man, did you get lost?" Just a reminder. This guy is officially over an hour late. What do you think the appropriate opener would be? Maybe something to the effect of "I'm sorry" or "I apologize for making you wait" or how about the ever classic "My bad." Nope. Instead the first thing out of his mouth is, "I hate this part of town." Okie dokie. I'm gonna roll with it. I say, "So you had an audition today at Columbia? How was it?" He says without a smile or anything, "It was alright." Trying to remain ever positive I say, "Well, I've been sitting here observing people going in and out, and the good news is I don't think it takes that long to go through the museum. People seem to come out in less than an hour so we should be fine." He's kind of like "whatever" so I suggest that we go inside and check it out.

As far as the Actor's physical appearance, I should mention that he's a black guy. Honestly I've never seriously dated a black guy but not because I haven't had the opportunity. I've always felt that the one quality I really like about my racial anonymity is that it tends to make me appeal to a lot of different races. Some white guys like me as do some Asian guys. Because I'm curvy or hipular or let's just say a little thick, latino and black men in particular seem to always hit on me because we all know that those guys are known for liking a little somethin' somethin' extra. Honestly the very first guy I really ever felt an emotional connection with in high school was a black guy--Troy Banks. He was like the smartest guy in my class, and I remember he used to help me with my algebra homework and stuff, and he was just really nice and funny in a quirky sort of way and kind of shy. I had such a huge crush on him, and I remember I desperately longed for him to invite me to the prom, but he was a Seventh Day Adventist which meant he didn't leave his house on Saturday nights, and a date never happened. After graduation we went our separate ways, and I didn't really give him much thought until one Christmas five years later I ran into him at the mall. It was great to see him again after so many years and so many new experiences. We ended up hanging out once before I went back to LA, and we hung out again when I was home for the summer, but for whatever reason things were just different. For one thing I was already madly in love with my ex-boyfriend at the time, but for another even if I weren't I think we had just grown in different directions, and it was very much an in the moment sort of connection. I never saw him again after that summer, but I heard through the grapevine that he's like a mathematics professor in Baltimore now. That's crazy. I coulda been a professor's wife.

There was also my personal trainer from earlier this year. Back in October I joined NYSC, and you get 3 free personal training sessions when you join. They paired me with this really hot black guy who was only 22 but who was terribly hot. We got on like old souls from the get-go probably because I am perpetually 22 when I'm not busy being perpetually 12. Anyways, I signed up for a few additional sessions, but in the end I realized it was a total waste for me. We would end up spending the entire time goofing off or talking about our love lives or dancing around to the music videos they had playing in the gym. I was a terrible client, but I get the impression a lot of fun for him. I also think a part of the problem is that one day I asked Personal Trainer what kind of girls he usually dates, ya know, if they're in super ripped condition like him, and he said, "You're gonna be surprised. I actually like girls who are a little thick and curvy." This is when I knew I was in trouble. There was no way he was gonna help me get in super shape. Personal Trainer liked me just the way I am. And then he started asking me to go eat at his favorite restaurant in the neighborhood that served high calorie entrees and sugary margaritas. It was pretty soon after that that I realized it would behoove me to just exercise for free on my own. But the long and short of this whole diatribe is just to say that I am an equal opportunity dater, and I won't turn down a flip through a free Essence magazine every now and then.

So the hot black Actor and I go inside the museum. There are two main sections of the museum. The first section is the special exhibition entitled Skin as Material and Metaphor. The chosen artists draw upon this rich subject in multi-faceted ways, using both the material and concept of skin as a metaphor for widespread issues surrounding race, representation, as well as personal, historical, and environmental trauma and perseverance. We walk through and a lot of it is very abstract. I start asking the Actor questions about his acting. He tells me that he does voiceover work, and he's been on a lot of random TV shows like Law and Order and One Life to Live. I notice that as we're walking through, he can't really help himself, and he keeps going in and out of voices. It's like he's constantly on. It's a bit amusing at first, but at the same time I feel like it's hard to get to know him. It's like he's hiding behind the voices or something. It kind of reminds me of the one dude in the movie "Police Academy" who's constantly making sound effects, and you never really hear him speak in his natural voice. It's a bit odd. I also find the Actor to be a bit negative and condescending. I ask him if he likes Broadway, and he tells me that Broadway is stupid. He says, "I don't get all the singing. It's pointless." I say, "Well, I love Broadway. I feel like you can't really go wrong with all the singing and dancing. Those performers are great." He kind of does another "whatever" type reaction.

We move onto the other room which has a special exhibition on horses in Native American culture. This section is especially cool because it has more of the decorative elements that I was expecting to find in such a museum. I continue to try to make small talk with the Actor, but he is so flippant about everything, and in general he just gives off such a vibe like he's so used to it--the attention, I mean. It is my sincere hope that this guy is not honestly thinking that I'm way into him just because I'm being friendly and I'm fawning all over him because he's an "actor." Seriously I could care less. I just want to get to know the guy, but it's about half way through the second exhibit that I myself feel totally over this date. I have had very few dates where I seriously just wanted to get out of there, but this one is very much an example of that. I don't know this guy well enough at all, but my overall first impression is that he's really aloof. He may not be once you get to know him, but isn't the whole point of going on a date that you put your best foot forward and you try not to be an asshole. But hey, if you are, you are and no use hiding it.

I'm about to give up putting energy into this and turn into an aloof bitch myself when I suddenly think about it and realize that the best approach to people like this is just to kill them with kindness and in the end just to be myself which is not an aloof bitch. I think I'm pretty happy go lucky and friendly and so I continue on with the conversation, laughing at his lame jokes, saying something completely positive everytime he says something negative about what I like, and in general just giving off the impression that I am unaffected by him. And in the end I'm not affected. I like this museum. I'm gonna enjoy my Sunday afternoon. Once we exit out of the museum, the Actor says he has to get home to pack for a trip he's taking to the West Indies. His parents are from there originally, but he offers to take me to a good Mexican restaurant in the West Village. I'm hungry so I think why not. It can't really get any worse. Afterall, I've accepted that I don't really care what this guy thinks so the pressure's off of me to have to be anyone other than who I am.

When we reach the West Village we start walking. The Actor tells me that he doesn't drink or smoke, but his real weakness is sweets. I get super excited. This is the first commonality I have found with the guy. He says his favorite cupcake place is right around here. I ask him what it's called. He says it's called Baked by Melissa. He says, "It's the little baby cupcakes. You've heard of this place haven't you?" I think about it, and I remember reading an article about this place. I really want to try it so I say, "We have to go there for dessert." He gives me a "we'll see" type look. It's an improvement. At least it's not the "whatever" stance. That one really annoys me. As we're walking we get back on the Actor's favorite topic of conversation--the accents and voiceover work. Maybe we're both softening and meeting in the middle a bit. I start asking him if he can do various accents like French, German, Spanish, Australian. He does them all one after the other. I ask for British. He gives me one that definitely does not sound like the Brit. I say, "Is that cockney?" He says it is. I gotta admit. The Actor is good. I would totally buy that he was from any of these given places. He does a really good Russian one. Just to confirm I say, "This is all for voiceover stuff though, right? You don't use them in acting." He says, "Yeah, it's for the voiceover work. There's not really much call for a lot of black Russian parts."

We arrive at the restaurant, and it's called Benny's Burritos. I can tell I'm going to love it. I haven't really had any outstanding Mexican food since arriving in NYC. Well, that's not true. There's this one street in Brooklyn that has nothing but Mexican joints, and I had some pretty tasty food there one time, but on the whole New York is not really known for Mexican eats. Texas and California on the other hand do it up nice. Being in Japan for two years, I remember the one kind of food I really missed was good Mexican food, and now being in NYC I don't eat it very often at all, but it's a tradeoff. There's plenty of sushi, Italian, Chinese, Greek, and just about any other ethnic cuisine you could name. We go inside, and the menu looks awesome. The Actor recommends the super mini chicken burrito. He says the super burrito is massive, and the super mini is basically the same thing only smaller but still normal sized. I am totally sold. He orders the super mini beef burrito.

Now that the dinner portion has rolled around, I feel that the Actor has loosened up a bit. He's still aloof, and maybe that's just the way he is in general, but I don't feel he's being quite as standoffish in a borderline rude sort of way. I ask him what his parents think about him being an actor. I say, "It must seem really different culturally since they are from another country." He says, "At first they didn't like it, but now they're coming around." He went to college and has his degree in sports medicine. He used to be a personal trainer. He says they like it when relatives call them and tell them they saw him on TV on a show or a commercial or something, and he says his dad gets excited when he sees him in something, but his mom hasn't quite come around just yet. He says, "Sometimes she'll still say, 'You know the gym down the street is hiring'." He seems really peeved about this, and I can almost see the "whatever" stance start to emerge again. That has to be tough though feeling like your parents don't fully approve of what you're doing even though he's clearly making a living as a working actor. I'm not into this guy at all, but something tells me he just might make it. He's got the drive, and he has the looks, and he's already building quite a resume. I could see him becoming like a really distinguished character actor like Samuel L. Jackson, and I can be like, "I went on a date with that guy one time. It's not the fame that changed him. He's always been aloof like that."

Once the food comes, we bite into our burritos. He looks a me with a pause, and I give him a solid thumbs up. This burrito is mighty fine in every way. It has all the fixins--rice, beans, sour cream, guacamole, and tenderized chicken. So yummy to my Mexican food loving tummy. The Actor has a shaved head, and I ask him if he's always shaved his head. He says he's been doing it for a while now. I ask him what he would have done if I had shown up for our date with a shaved head. He says, "It would depend on how you looked. Some women look good with a shaved head." I say, "I know. Natalie Portman totally rocked the shaved head." He asks, "Do you have any weird dints in your head or anything?" I say, "I don't know. I guess that's the kind of thing you only find out once you shave your head." He reaches over and starts feeling all around my head. He examines it, and he says, "Whoa, you have a nicely shaped head. You could probably pull it off."

After dinner, I joke that I'm gonna be coming to Benny's all the time. Afterall, it's very near to my classes. I say, "You're gonna be seeing me all the time." I can't tell if his reaction is the "whatever" stance or not. After the winner burritios we go to Baked by Melissa. On the way, I decide to get back on the accent kick just because now that we're winding down, and I don't really care about getting to know the Actor on anymore of a deep level, I just think it's fun. I ask him to do a southern accent. He breaks out with something from Mississippi or Alabama. I ask him if he can do a New York accent. He says, "What, like an Italian accent or an in the hood accent?" At first I say Italian, and he totally breaks out into some serious guido speak. Then I request the in the hood accent, and he sounds like he should be in some Spike Lee film right now. I ask him if he ever talked like that when he was younger. He says no, but he still has friends that do.

We get to the dessert place, and the encasement of baby cupcakes is adorable. There are 9 primary flavors, and each one looks so intricate. They're 3 for $3, and I opt for the mint chocolate chip, the smores, and the red velvet. The Actor gets 3 of the other flavors. The cupcakes are literally the size of a quarter. Each one is only one biteful. We take them and eat them as we're walking to the subway. After I taste each one, I squeal with delight. I say, "That place was amazing. I'm gonna start coming here all the time. Uh oh, you're gonna be running into me constantly. You've made the mistake of introducing me to two of your go to places." This time he cracks a smile. Yes, I've broken him down. I knew he couldn't maintain that "I don't care about anything" stance forever.

We reach Union Square, and for some reason we start talking about height. He asks me how tall I am. I say, "I'm 5'nothing." He starts cracking up. He tells me it's really funny I say it like that, but ya know, it's true. I ask him if he's been out with anyone shorter than me. He says one chick contacted him on match.com who listed herself as 4'10. That is short, but I say, "It's not that much shorter than me. It's like this tall," and I hold my hand approximately two inched below the top of my head. The Actor looks and takes it in and once again touches the top of my head. I know everyone has their kinks and fetishes, but I'm starting to wonder if his is hair. He seems to like touching my head. Maybe this is his mating ritual. All I can sort of think is "whatever." We continue onto the subway, and I hear someone call out my name, "Carole." I turn to my left, and it's my psychology friend Jasmine who is one of the subscribers to this blog. What's up, Jasmine? I wave, and we have a small how are you exchange, and then I quickly say "I'll see you later." It's not because I didn't want to stop and talk, but rather it's because I didn't want to have to do the whole introduction thing with this guy who I'm about to say goodbye to and who I'm quite sure I will never see again. He walks me to the entrance of the subway, and I tell him to have a good time in the West Indies. He gives me a hug, and it's like a prolonged bear hug. I have to say, he actually gives a really good hug, and it feels warm and comforting, and I think for a moment that he's probably an excellent lover, but I'm not even gonna go there. He says, "Alright. I'll call you." Ladies, can you back me on this. Whenever a guy spews out that as a one liner--I'll call you--that is code for you will never hear from me again. But you know, what a relief. I am so happy that I can for once put my two hands together in the shape of a W and think WHATEVER and actually mean it.

Museum of the American Indian: http://www.nmai.si.edu/
Benny's Burritos: http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/bennys-burritos-west/
Baked by Melissa: http://www.bakedbymelissa.com/

Date #44--The Theatre Guy

2010-05-04T17:51:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday night, and I arrive early to Columbus Circle where I am meeting the Theatre Guy at 7:30 pm. It's a rarity for me to be so punctual, but since I have some time to kill I end up going in the huge mall that is located there. It's called the Time Warner Center. I have actually never been inside, and the minute I walk in it reminds me of the huge mega malls that are in every major city in Asia. It also reminds me of the type of mall you might find in LA, kind of like the Beverly Center, but it seems oddly out of character for a place like NYC. Maybe it's not, but just in my stereotypical vision, I've never really thought of Manhattan as having malls though certainly it does. There's actually one called the Manhattan Mall near MSG. In any event, I only have to mill around for a bit looking at the Borders and the food court before I get a text from Theatre Guy saying that he is waiting at the huge globe. He's the one with the black t-shirt and jeans.

I immediately go to meet him, and when I am stopped at the crosswalk waiting to go to the center with the globe, I can spot him just based upon his clothing description. He seems laid back and at ease as he waits for my approach. He's a bit older than the average guy I go for. He's 37 so nothing major in the age difference department, but still the main reason I don't usually go for guys in this age range is because they somehow seem their age much of the time. Once I cross over and start walking towards him, he sees me. We greet each other with a hug. I remember that he had to work today so I ask him how work was. He tells me it was good. It turns out he's the manager of a theatre that puts on plays, and he is currently getting his master's degree in Theatre for Social Change from NYU. This basically means that he generally works in populations of at risk youths and helps them to channel their energies into artistic and creative expression in the theatre. I think this sounds very noble and altruistic and right up my alley.

He asks me if I've ever stood under the globe before, and I say, "I've passed by here before, but I've never actually just hung out here and watched people going by." He says, "Oh, this is the best spot for people watching." The theatre where he works is just up the street which is why he picked this as our meeting spot, but he actually lives in Brooklyn. He suggests that we just sort of take a walk down Broadway and get to know each other and eventually get something to eat. This sounds like as good an idea as any so we kind of make our way away from the globe and back out onto an actual street. As we walk, I find out more about Theatre Guy. He's from California originally, but he actually lived in Arizona for the past 16 years ever since he moved there to go to college at ASU. Before he moved to NYC, he was basically doing similar work in Phoenix with theatre management. Before he got into all of that, he dabbled on the acting side of it as well. I have to say that my general early impression of Theatre Guy is that he's very theatre. If any of you have friends who are actors in the theatre you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. Let me put it to you this way. I was friends with a lot of theatre people when I was in college. I was also friends with a lot of music majors, writers, and literature folks. In a nutshell, the theatre people were always a little bit off. There was something a bit kooky, eccentric if you will, and honestly I don't think any of them would take offense at being described this way. Let's face it, something has to be a bit off center if you're able to channel all of that emotion into acting and portraying totally different characters. In saying that, I see the theatre traits in Theatre Guy, but for what it's worth he seems nice enough and not so off his rocker that I can't connect with him on some level.

As we're walking past Times Square we see a huge crowd gathered and lots of policemen on horses. At first we think they're filming more scenes from the Lucy Liu movie that's in town, but instead it turns out there was a bomb scare of some sort. There are people everywhere, and it's really hard to get through. Once we make our way onto one of the less congested side streets, Theatre Guy suggests that we stop into one of the places and have a drink. I agree, and we end up going in the first joint we see which is called Famous Dave's BBQ. The waitress tells us that the commotion in Times Square is a car bomb that almost went off but didn't. Normally I would order an apple martini, but I haven't eaten since lunch so I order a melon ball instead, and Theatre Guy gets the Famous Dave's signature fruity drink. He prefaces it by saying, "I really like the fru-fru drinks." I say, "Oh yeah, I love the girly drinks, too." He reminds me that the term fru-fru sounds way less feminine than calling them girly drinks. I don't know about that.

Once the drinks come we do a cheers, and we start talking some more. Theatre Guy says, "So do you remember reading on my profile that I'm divorced?" Like with the Brit, I have to call it up again, and once I do I say, "Oh, yeah I remember reading that. You were married for like a year 15 years ago, right?" He says, "Exactly." I ask him what happened with that. He says, "That's a long story." I just smile and say, "Well, we've got all night." This basically sends him into a whole explanation dating back to childhood. He tells me that his parents split up when he was a kid, and his dad got remarried and had a whole new family, and his dad never really made much of an effort to see him. Thus when he moved to Arizona he was searching for a support network, and he ended up joining the Mormon Church. I say, "Isn't the Mormon Church a bit cultish?" He says, "Well, I'm getting to that." He ended up meeting the woman who would become his wife in the church, and they were extremely happy. However, once he started learning more about the church, he started to see that it wasn't for him. His wife was different from him in that she had always grown up in the church. He felt there was no way they would have ever gotten around it once he decided to leave the church, and he ended up leaving her as well. I ask him when the last time he talked to her was, and he says it was about 14 years ago. He had heard through the grapevine that she had met a new man in the church and was engaged, and he went to her house. He felt like he had made a mistake and wanted to find a way to get her back and so he told her that. She basically just said it was too late and that she had met someone new, but the worst part of all is that she looked him straight in the face and said, "When you left without even discussing anything...you never even gave me a chance." I don't know if it's the alcohol or if I'm just feeling super sentimental or if he's painting it in an incredibly theatrical way, but this just really touches me when he recounts what she said, and I almost get teary eyed. I put my hands over my mouth, and I say, "That is so sad. You should try to find her. Maybe she's divorced again." It's weird, but I really want them to get back together. He says, "No, I'm sure she's not, and even if she is, she probably has five kids by now, and at the end of the day she's still a part of the church." I take it in, and I just say, "Well, hopefully she's happy." He says, "Me, too. I really do, but sadly I think by that point she was just kind of broken."

He then goes onto tell me that ever since that marriage he's had other long term girlfriends, but in a way he was always sort of comparing them to the standard set by the marriage because outside of the conflict with religion, the relationship was really sort of ideal in his mind. And now after seeing that fail and seeing his parents' marriage fail years ago, it's almost like he doesn't believe that relationships can last, and so I say, "When you would date these other women, would you almost find yourself sort of looking for something that was wrong and expecting it to fail before you even gave the relationship a chance to work?" He looks at me stunned, and he says, "Do you know that what you just said is exactly what my therapist said to me? It took us six sessions to get to the meat of what you just summarized after an hour." He continues on, "I think you're getting some good training there at the New School." I laugh, but in actuality I am just thinking maybe this does all have some psychological basis, but really I am just stating some really obvious lessons I have come to learn and observe throughout my dating life but especially in a really relevant manner while doing this project. I think I share some similarities with Theatre Guy with regards to relationships. I think I'm sometimes guilty of looking for red flags or looking for things that might go wrong. I let them freak me out, and I find myself wanting to flee rather than give it a real and valid chance of working out. Who knows why I do this really? Maybe it's partly because everytime I've given it a chance, it's never really worked out, and that leads to disappointment, or maybe it's because I want to tell myself that just because something is fun doesn't necessarily mean it's good for me. Whatever the back story, I do know that I've started to reconsider my stance on all of this and reevaluate my phobias. I've been thinking about the Brit a lot lately. I've been thinking about how much I miss him and would like to be dating him and how I'm happy we're taking this time apart because I think I'm starting to see in a real and clear manner what exactly he means to me. I can't put it into words completely just yet, but I do know that he's someone I think about a lot when he's not around. We shall see.

After we finish our drinks and the mock therapy session, we decide to go get something to eat. Theatre Guy knows this great dumpling place on the Lower East Side. We hop on the subway, and he asks me if I have a certain type. I get this question a lot, and I give him the usual rundown about how I don't really. I do mention though that I find myself dating either Asian guys or white guys, and obviously my ideal has always been to find a half Asian/half white guy. He says, "What about looks wise?" I say, "That's the funny thing. When I think about all of the guys I have ever dated or liked, all of them have looked completely different from each other, and even their personalities are all completely different as well. There's no consistency with me." I ask him if he has a type. He says he's dated a rainbow palette as well, but if he had to go with a standard type that he's usually drawn to he says, "I usually go for the short, quirky brunette." Hmm...that sounds somewhat familiar. We arrive at Vanessa's Dumpling House, and I am super excited. I love dumplings with a passion.

We walk in, and the place is filled up. There are a ton of white people who look like they're about to go out partying for the night. Theatre Guy says, "Apparently hipsters really like dumplings as well." I say, "Yeah, my indicator that a place is good is when you see way more Asians than white people, but I guess someone let the cat out of the bag on this one." Theatre Guy is a pescatarian which basically means he doesn't eat meat but only fish so we order the vegetable dumplings, a couple of vegetable buns, and a miso soup. Seriously for both of us to eat, the grand total was $7.50. I'm not exaggerating. If you are on a budget, get thee self to Vanessa's asap. And it's totally worth it might I add because once we bite into the heavenly goodness of the vegetable bun, it is absolutely delectable. I never knew vegetables could taste so good. Everything is outstanding and not too filling.

As we eat, we continue talking on random topics. We talk about match.com. Theatre Guy tells me that he actually used it back in Arizona. He met a great gal fairly quickly. I actually think it was the first date he went on, and they ended up dating for an extended amount of time. I say, "Wow, so you didn't shop around or anything? You found someone you liked right away so you just stopped looking." He says, "Yeah, pretty much." And that's when it occurs to me that I think that's the normal way people go about dating. The whole point of dating is to find someone you like, and when you do you naturally stop and start trying to form something real and meaningful with the person. I know these are all basic concepts that one can generally infer with or without any psychological training, but I think I've had to go through this journey so that I could really piece together what I was trying to learn about myself. I think I was this traditional way a long time ago when I first met my ex-boyfriend, and I was ready to call it a day on dating for many, many years. But that didn't work out, and I wouldn't say it left me jaded, but it left me much like Theatre Guy in that I found myself wondering do things ever really work out in the end, or do you constantly have to be on guard as a form of self protection? I think you do have to be aware if you're chasing after something that is just never gonna work out, and like Green Day once sang you can't go forcing something if it's just not right, but you can't be so vigilant that you try to self protect from any inkling that something might get deep, and you might actually fall in love because let's face it. If that's your stance, then in a way you are your own worst enemy, and maybe you need to be protected from this self armor you've created that keeps the chance for real connection from getting inside.

Theatre Guy asks me how many match.com dates I've been on, and I can't lie. I tell him I've been on over 40, and I realize that even if I wanted to, there's a greater than likely chance that I won't connect with any of these remaining guys at least as long as that statement keeps coming up. It makes me seem too flippant about the whole thing, too into serial dating, and maybe entirely not serious enough to form anything serious. And the funny thing is that this persona is not me. These are not the values I hold dear and want to convey. I did this whole thing as an experiement, and the end result I'm very near to reaching is that I'm finding out who I really am. I am a one guy kind of girl. I want to be in a serious, committed relationship. I do. I want a boyfriend. For a long time, I wasn't so sure, but I think I really do. Dating has been fun and enlightening, but even someone like me who genuinely likes getting to know people gets tired of getting to know random guys over plates of pasta or plates of dumplings as it were. I guess that means I'm human. I feel, and sometimes I really want to feel much more deeply.

After the dumplings, we wander for a little bit, and we end up randomly sitting on some park bench in the middle of the LES. I think it's kind of nice that Theatre Guy didn't take me to some random bar. I feel like he really just wants to get to know me, and I find myself sitting with him under this perfectly clear May night. We see some lesbians walking by, and he asks me if I've ever kissed a girl before. I say, "No, but I was thinking I should totally go out on a date with a girl from match.com just to spice things up." I'm only kidding, of course, and he says, "You have a great sense of humor." I ask him since he had a negative experience with the Mormon Church if that put him off of religion. He says he didn't want to have anything to do with religion for a very long time after that, but he's not so opposed to it anymore. I think this last bit was maybe Theatre Guy just trying to gage if there was any real chemistry between us or not. I think it's one of those very vague feelings which basically means probably not because afterall chemistry generally hits you like a lightsaber full force, and it's not something you have to be coaxed into. But Theatre Guy is similar to the Cajun in that I would be friends with him. I actually enjoyed his company, and I think he's a smart guy, and he obviously likes talking about relationships and such as so clearly I do. He says, "Well, I actually have to work at 8:30 tomorrow morning so I think I'm gonna call it an early night. Will you think I'm totally lame for doing that?" I say, "No, not at all. You gotta do what you gotta do."

We walk together through the streets of the LES to get to the subway. There are people everywhere in front of every corner and dive bar and trendy looking night spot. It's funny because subconsiously I find myself thinking about the Brit and wondering what he's doing and thinking I might run into him one of these nights because he hangs out in neighborhoods such as these. It's so funny. I remember for a good bit after things ended with the Cuban I found myself looking for him unintentionally. He works really close to where I live, and I would find myself thinking about him and wondering if he was working at that building or if he was at a different client's location, and I would sometimes take the long way home around by the water and think I might accidentally bump into him, but I never did, and I don't really find myself even considering that I might run into him anymore. It's like he's not even in my consciousness any longer. Instead I find myself wondering if I will bump into the Brit one random night when I am at a bar with friends or even on a date. That would be weird but perhaps somehow meant to be. There is a saying that it takes one to get over another. I think it was important for the Brit to come along when he did because when he did if I were to be honest I still liked the Cuban a lot. That's just how I am. I may hesitate on committing, but once I get it in my mind that I'm going to like someone, I am so dedicated about it. Thus, I think my feelings for the Brit remained detached at best for a very long while.

However, the more and more time I spent with him, I started to like him in such a magnificent way, and unlike with the Cuban I couldn't find a single thing that was blaringly wrong with the situation. Sure, it wasn't as mind blowingly exciting as those first few interactions with the Cuban had been, but I've come to realize something. Sometimes when things are exciting at that high of an intensity, that's all they are. And in the end, they're not really real. Whereas, the purity and the gradualness of my interaction with the Brit was real, and he actually liked me, and if I'm a lucky girl, maybe just maybe one day I'll get him back when I can finally go to him with all of me to give. I'm getting there and actually much sooner than I ever thought I might. Theatre Guy and I part at the subway terminal. It was a good night, and I find myself hoping that Theatre Guy as well has come to some revelations this evening about being open to love again even if there are never any guarantees that it'll work out. I always thought I was and then I feared that I never truly would be but little by little I think I actually almost am.

Famous Dave's BBQ: http://www.famousdaves.com/
Vanessa's Dumpling House: http://www.yelp.com/biz/vanessas-dumpling-house-new-york

Date #43--The Cajun

2010-05-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

It is 6:30 pm on Friday night, and I am excited to be on my way to meet the Cajun. I am meeting him at the New Museum of Contemporary Art which is located right where Prince St. deadends at Bowery. It's just when I'm at a stop light waiting for the light to change when I turn to my left, and I see a dude looking in my direction, and I realize it's a familiar face. I know this guy. I say, "Hey," and smile, and he does the same. It turns out this guy goes to the New School, and he lives in my apartment building. I'll call him the Neighbor. He is getting his master's degree in Creative Writing. I remember meeting him at a small gathering in his apartment back in October. We were both totally new to the City at that point. He had just relocated a couple of months earlier from the West Coast. The way we really became immersed in a conversation was that when he had arrived that evening he had just come back from a match.com date. I immmediately plunged in telling him about my plan to go on 50 first dates in NYC. At that point, I believe I must have only been up to #2 or so. He had joked around about possibly being one of the 50 dates. We even pulled up my profile together on his computer, and later on he had winked at me for a laugh. I never winked back just quite simply because I didn't know how I would get around writing about a date I had been on with him if in fact we did go on a date because we have several mutual friends in common, and quite frankly I felt it was better not to go there. Instead we compromised at friending each other on Facebook. I randomly ran into him one other time on campus in November, but other than that I hadn't laid eyes on him since.

Thus, I'm really surprised to find us walking along Prince Street together totally unpremeditatedly. He is with a couple of friends who are visiting from back home. I ask him how match.com is treating him, and he tells me that he dropped it months ago. He remembers the little project I had just begun when originally meeting him, and I gladly inform him that I'm actually on my way to date #43 as we speak. He seems amused to find that I'm still at it and as a matter of fact almost done. We make some small chit chat, and we reach his stop which happens to be Cafe Habana. This is a total blast from the past, too, because the Writer from way back at the beginning of this blog who I never ever did meet following the bicycle accident had recommended this place to me really early on. I still laugh when I recall his description of their corn as being "Oh eem gee, this is effing amazing." Needless to say I broke down and ended up going there with my roommate Dawn back in January. It's Cuban cuisine, and at the time I was coming to terms that it wouldn't work out with the Cuban but still hopeful, and while waiting for the check that night I texted the Cuban that I found a great Cuban place I wanted to take him to some day. It never happened, but standing in front of it this evening with this other newly reemerged lost character from my random year in NYC makes me see how things are becoming oddly circular or full circle as it were. The Neighbor tells me that we should go out sometime "if I can fit him into my busy dating schedule." I joke that I have 7 dates left so there's still time for him to get in on my blog. With that we part ways. I once heard you had to live in NYC for about 4 years before you really start running into people from the past randomly on the street. Looks like I'm way ahead of that statistic on this night.

As a result, I am now about 10 minutes late for my date. Darn it. I was so close to being on time for this one. In any event, I reach the crosswalk, and I wait for it to change so I can cross Bowery. I spot the Cajun in the distance. He's waiting in front. He's a skinny white guy. His introductory email had been very brief. He wrote simply, "You're super cute. Wanna get something to eat sometime?" Normally, this would reek of a guy trolling for hook-ups, but I'm near the end, and I haven't really gone for one of these so far so why not. In addition, I actually thought the Cajun was super cute on his profile. He had a nice face so I said what the heck. When I cross over, I wave, and I say, "You won't believe it. I just ran into someone I know from school. We were just talking, and that's why I'm a bit late. I'm sorry. That was so random though." He tells me it's no problem. I immediately notice that I think the Cajun is a little too skinny for my tastes. I'm not into huge men, but I like a guy with a little something to grab onto. He is cute though.

We go inside the museum, and we start looking at the art. The current exhibition that is on display has to do with themes of evolution, sexuality, and death. Ya know, the usual when it comes to all this contemporary stuff. The Cajun and I start looking around, and he asks me where I'm from. I tell him Texas, and I ask him where he is from. He says he's from New Awlins, and just then that is when I decide to give him the name that I do. He totally has a bit of an accent, and I love it. I ask him how long he's been in NYC, and he tells me he's been here about 5 years. He had to evacuate his home when Hurricane Katrina hit. He had an older brother who was living here at the time so he chose New York, and he's been here ever since. If it hadn't been for the hurricane, he probably would have never left Louisiana. He currently works as a salesman for a bank, and he lives in the East Village. Okay, the immediate thing that really jumps out to me about the Cajun from our introductory exchange is that he's jovial. He laughs a lot, and he's quite goofy really. He also has that southern charm going on. He's very cordial and nice and just really easy to talk to. For a second I get a glimpse of what I think many New Yorkers see in me, and I do have to say that when seeing it in the Cajun it's appealing. He doesn't seem jaded or scarred, and this is coming from a guy who abandoned his house, car, and life to pretty much start over after losing everything in a natural disaster. To me, this says Survivor.

As far as the exhibition, I have to say I'm digging it. It's a lot of fun looking at it with the Cajun as well. He lives in the East Village so I'm sure you can get an idea. He's a bit of a beatnik, bohemian type. He likes this abstract stuff. The theme is overly dark, and we are having a good laugh about it all. I come to find out that the Cajun is the youngest of four boys. This is a coincidence because I have 3 older brothers as well. He tells me that his oldest brother is 20 years older than him. I say, "No way. My oldest brother is 16 years older than me. You've got me beat." He confirms that he was in fact an "oops" baby as in fact I was. He tells me that his parents are complete party animals, and his dad even told him that he was conceived one drunken night down by the bayou. My parents were never that graphic when detailing my conception, but my dad as well liked to enjoy himself quite a lot, and I am fairly certain I was not conceived under sober circumstances at least on my dad's part. I laughingly tell the Cajun, "So we're both lucky to be alive." He agrees. He also tells me that one of his brother's is married to a Polish woman, one is married to a Guatemalan woman, and one has a Japanese girlfriend. I look at the racial diversity, and I say, "Omg, you gotta go with Africa. It's the only continent left." He absolutely cracks up at this comment, but I go onto explain that my brother #1 is married to a white lady, my brother #2 is now divorced but was married to an Asian lady, and my brother #3 is married to a Latina. For years my friends have joked that I should marry a black guy just to completely even things up. Man, me and the Cajun are like the same person.

After we make it through the museum we decide to go get something to eat. The Cajun has been raving about this place that is very close to his apartment in the East Village called the Yuca Bar. He says it's his go to spot. It definitely sounds latin so I am all about it. On the walk over I ask him what his favorite part about NYC is. He says, "Let me see if I can word this in the most condensed way possible." He contemplates for a moment, and then he very powerfully says, "Access." That is indeed very concise, but the funny thing is that I know exactly what he is encapsulating in that one word. I say, "I totally know what you mean. There is just access to anything you could possibly want or need at all hours of the day or night." He's absolutely right, and I have to admit that when I take in the whole exchange with the full on Cajun accent and everything, I start to see that the Cajun is in a condensed word...quirky. We pass by a tattoo parlor, and I ask him if he has any. He tells me he has two. One is the symbol for New Orleans, and one is an apple in honor of NYC as the big apple. I ask him where they are, and he says he has one on each shoulder. He says, "Here, I'll show you," and he lifts up his shirt as he's walking. I take notice, and there the tattoos are encompassing each shoulder blade. The apple in particular is very bright and shiny red. I say, "Wow, that apple is super glossy. When'd you get it done...an hour ago?" He busts out laughing at this, and then I realize the hilarity in him having come straight from the parlor to this date, but seriously it looks brand new, and he breaks down and tells me he got it a week ago. I knew I wasn't that far off base.

We reach the Yuca Bar, and it's already bumpin' for a Friday night. The hostess tells us that it'll be about a 30 minute wait. The Cajun says we can take a walk, and he'll show me a little bit of the neighborhood. Apparently he absolutely loves living in the East Village. He goes out constantly, but he also admits that he's one of those New Yorkers who barely ventures out of his neighborhood because let's face it. The East Village has so much--total embodiment of access. We start walking down St. Mark's Place, and he says, "Wait, I know what I'll show you. Have you ever been to a speakeasy before?" I say, "No, do they have them in New York?" He says, "Yeah, there's this one hidden club on this street. I'll show you." He takes me into a hot dog restaurant, and he pretends to get a menu to look at, and then he steers us off to the side where there's an old fashioned telephone booth. He says, "There's a number that you have to call to make a reservation. When you call they give you a password, and then later on you come here and you go in the phone booth, and when you dial the number they ask you for the password, and then they let you in." I get really excited, and I ask if he's been. He says he's been a couple of times, but you have to call at like 10 o'clock in the morning because they fill up fast. We go back out to the front, and I ask him what it's like inside. He says, "It's really dark, and there are people doing drugs and stuff." I say, "I wanna go. Why didn't you make a reservation?" I'm only halfway kidding. He says, "Here. I'll give you the phone number, but don't tell anyone, and you have to call early in the morning." I say, "Man, I totally wanna go. Should I try to call?" He says, "You can try, but it's already 8 pm on a Friday night. They're just gonna laugh at you." I give it a shot. I call twice, and it's busy both times. It's funny. I remember the Brit mentioning this club to me before. Well, at least I now have the secret number for future reference.

By the time these shenanigans are done, it's time for us to walk back to see if we can be seated. Once we arrive back at the Yuca Bar, it doesn't take long for us to get a table. This place is totally happening. There's loud latin music playing. It's very flavorful. It turns out the specialty is tapas. Since the Cajun comes here all the time, I totally trust his recommendations. He says they make excellent mojitos so we each get one. We also decide on the coconut shrimp, quesadillas, and tuna rolls. I love restaurants where you share everything. It's so communal, and it's a great bonding experience on a first date. It's during the dinner portion that I think I start to realize how hyper the Cajun is. It's not necessarily in a bad way. I actually think he's really funny, but again I don't know that I'm overwhelmingly drawn to him on a physical level. He tells me about how his parents really wanted him to be a girl especially since it was their fourth try and their last chance. They had painted his room pink, and they had a name all picked out. They even bought a pink blanket, and he said there are pictures now where there's a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, and it's him. I find this story so funny for the similarities it once again features. My brother #3 had essentially the same experience. My brother's #1 and #2 were 12 and 10 when he was born so obviously my parents really wanted a girl. They had a girl's name picked out for him (Gwendolyn), a baby doll named Rosie, and a pink blanket. Obviously he came out as a boy, but the funny part of the whole thing is that when my mom got pregnant with me, they totally remembered that whole fiasco and didn't prepare for me at all. Seriously they didn't buy any clothes or pick out a name or anything. When I came along, they were just like, "What are we gonna call her?" which is probably why I was named after my dad--Carole being the female derivative of Carl. I won't lie. Being the youngest and only girl, obviously I was well treated, but at the same time by the time I was born my parents were so over being parents. There are seriously like albums full of baby pictures of my brothers, and for me there are maybe like 3 pictures. It's that old cliche of when the first kid has all their firsts it's so monumental like, "Look, he's taking his first step." By the time you get to the fourth kid it's like, "Oh crap, she's walking. Put the breakable objects away." Call me crazy, but I think some kind of quirkiness springs from this odd upbringing, and I have found a kindred spirit in the Cajun. Also, fyi, the food is amazing. I highly recommend the Yuca Bar for the excellent flavor and scrumptious texture.

After dinner, the Cajun tells me he knows the perfect cupcake place. I ask if it's Magnolia's, and he says, "No, but one of the ladies who used to bake at Magnolia's branched off and started her own cupcake place. It's called Butter Lane." I am so excited. Just the mere mention of cupcakes gets me going. It is totally all the rage right now, and I am on a single handed mission to try all the places in NYC. Maybe after my 50 first dates, I can start a cupcake blog. Butter Lane is literally right up the street, and it's super cute when we walk in. They feature specialty cupcakes with themes. The Cajun tells me the Elvis is the best. It's a banana cupcake with peanut butter icing in honor of the King. I'm totally sold. He gets one as well. We walk up the street as we eat them, and the banana/peanut butter combo is yumtastic. I can't help but think of the Brit who neither likes bananas nor peanut butter. This cupcake would make him blow chunks, but if you're a fan of those flavors, you will be pleased.

The Cajun says, "I'd really like to keep hanging out. The only thing is that I'm in the middle of booking a trip with some friends to Florida, and I need to go online and just check out the rental property and just book it tonight. Would you mind if I did that really quickly, and you can just hang out in my apartment for a minute?" Without really thinking, I just say okay. Afterall, he just lives right around the corner, and it's convenient. Okay, readers, before you chastise me, I do go through all the scenarios. I know I've had a rule up until now about not going to the guy's place on the first date. I do run through the possibilities of being assaulted or something much worse, and for a minute my stomach starts to drop, and I start to think I shouldn't be going to this guy's place, but before I know it we are climbing the stairs to his walk up in the East Village. It is exactly as I imagined it would be. It has a fire escape. The staircase has a wooden banister. Once we reach his apartment on the fifth floor, he opens the door, and when I see his refrigerator, my tension immediately drops. There are pictures all over of him holding his nieces and nephews. I have to say his apartment is immaculately clean, and that's a little bit American psychoish, but honestly I wouldn't have come this far into his apartment if there was anything suspect about him. He gets on his computer, and he calls his friend to confirm the booking. As he's doing this, I'm able to really look at his apartment, and I absolutely love it. Honestly I haven't been in an East Village apartment before, and my curiosity has gotten the better of me in wanting to see it, but it is absolutely my dream apartment. It is a one bedroom, and the best part is that he only pays $1,500 a month which if you know anything about prices according to location in NYC, this is a steal. This is where I want to be someday.

When he gets off the phone, he apologizes and says that we can now go do something fun. I tell him I really love his apartment. I ask him if there are any vacancies. He says, "No, it's full." I ask him to be sure and tell me if someone moves out. He says he will. As we're descending down the five flights of stairs I say, "I really like that it has a built in gym as well," meaning the obvious climb to the top everyday. The Cajun once again absolutely cracks up at one of my lame jokes, and he says, "I really like that you're from Texas." I say, "Oh yeah, it's so obvious, too, isn't it? I don't even try to hide it. Seriously I have no desire to seem like I'm from New York because then you just start to seem like everyone else." He asks me if I feel like just wandering or if I want to hit up a bar or something. I say, "Let's just wander." We end up heading over to Union Square.

It is totally alive on a Friday night. The place is filled with teeny boppers, and many of them are surprisingly dressed in 1980s inspired attire. It's official. I feel really old. I'm like 15 years older than the average person here, and they are wearing clothes in a vintage fashion that were popular when I was in elementary school. Getting older is so trippy. We see a crowd gathered around some really tribal music, and it turns out there are some people playing drums and creating a really Caribbean type sound. The Cajun and I get really immersed in the sounds, and before you know it we're just grooving like the droves of other people. After a few minutes the Cajun says, "It kind of puts you in a trance doesn't it. I almost forgot where I was for a minute, and then it was like 'oh, there's ShoeMania, must be in Union Square." I laugh, but I totally know what he means. I was in my own world for a minute, too, and that was totally without any peyote.

We end up back on the main drag of St. Mark's place, and I tell the Cajun that this is totally like little Tokyo or at least the closest thing NYC has since the Japanese population is so relatively small. I point out the places I have been such as the Ale House, Kenka with the cotton candy machine in front, Yakitori Taisho, and the Japanese restaurant Anime Guy took me to. The Cajun says, "Damn, girl, you've been to more places than me." I'm sure I haven't, but I am starting to notice that not just on this street, but in the City in general, I've done alright for myself as far as getting around this past 8 months. I give full credit to dating and this project for helping me to achieve that and being so proactive, but there have been a lot of good and genuine memories made along the way. We finally end up at a place called T-Kettle which the Cajun warns me has the best bubble tea around. I end up ordering the chocolate milk tea with the added bubbles, and the Cajun orders the honey dew with the same.

I tell the Cajun I'm really excited to try the bubble tea. I say, "I love all things Asian. I'm an Asian whore." He laughs heartily, and I say, "And you are, too. You're obsessed with Asian things." He doesn't deny it. When the drinks come, I suck the milk tea along with the bubbles up through the chubby straw, and I am in beverage heaven. It is so subtly sweet, and you can't beat the texture of the tapioca jelly balls. I give the Cajun a high five for his pick. He says, "You have really short fingernails." I say, "I know. I'm a total biter. What bad habit do you have?" He thinks for a moment. I say, "Oh, let me guess. You're perfect." He says, "No, no. I'm just trying to think. Well, I pick my nose sometimes." Okay, this is getting way too TMI for a first date, but I'll admit it. I think it's funny, and I like the comfortability and the laughability and the lack of pretense. I requested a goofball, and I got one, and I can't help myself. I ask, "Have you ever considered doing improv comedy?" I know this is totally what the Brit is into right now. In fact, he's about to start level 2 of the improv classes at the Upright Citizen's Brigade. I've never seen him perform, but I'm sure he's quite good at it, but in any event this is the only way I know anything about improv in NYC. The Cajun says, "No, I've never really thought about it." I tell him that I actually think he'd be really good at it. Afterall, he is extroverted and silly, and there's just something about him that screams SNL cast member. I tell him what I've learned about the process from the Brit, and I tell him I think he should sign up for a class. He seems pleased that I think this about him, but he seems like he'd be such a natural.

And here's the thing of it. I don't see myself dating this guy, but I would genuinely like to be friends with him. We have the whole southern connection thing going on, and he's really funny, and he didn't murder me Ted Bundy style in his East Village apartment so I think he's a keeper as far as friends go. Afterall, NYC is large and random, and I think the one thing that does keep a person grounded amongst the organized chaos of it all is meeting good people who you can share some laughs and common ground with and who you can easily add to your growing list of folks who you can randomly call up any night of the week and be like, "Hey, let's go get something to eat." Afterall, my classes are so close to where he lives. He'd be a great guy to be random with from time to time when I'm in the neighborhood. After the bubble tea, we wrap things up, and he walks me to the subway. I tell him I had a lot of fun, and I tell him he should go home and google the intro to improv comedy class. I tell him there's probably one starting soon, and he should hook it up. He says he will which probably means he won't, and we also say we'll be in touch which may or may not be the case as well. In any event, at the very minimum since I'm always in his neighborhood, I'm sure I'll randomly run into him on the street one of these days in like four years time or according to my super fast time schedule maybe only 8 months.

New Museum of Contemporary Art: http://www.newmuseum.org/
Yuca Bar: http://www.yucabarnyc.com/
Butter Lane: http://www.butterlane.com/
T-Kettle: http://www.yelp.com/biz/tkettle-new-york

Date #42--The Entrepreneur

2010-04-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday afternoon, and I am on my way to meet the the third and final guy that round #2 of speed dating yielded for me. Not for nothing, but I have to say that the pool of men to be found at speed dating seems to be significantly more creative than what you might find on an online dating site like match.com. I say this because the one commonality that my speed dates shared, and this includes both Mr. Handsome and the Cuban from round #1, is that the guys who asked me on a date post the speed dating always came forward with a plan of something to do. It was never just your standard, "Hey let's get together for a drink" type thing, and maybe that's because the speed date in itself was a screening date, albeit a five minute one to begin with, so afterwards they feel confident in spending an extended amount of time alone together. In keeping with that, the Entrepreneur is no different. I had at first suggested maybe checking out El Museo del Barrio. I've been wanting to go here since I first saw it advertised on the subway months ago. The Entrepreneur writes back that it sounds like it could be interesting, but he actually has tickets to see a Paul Taylor dance revue at the Joyce Theater in Chelsea. I don't know anything about professional dance, but this definitely sounds like it's worth checking out so I write back that I would love to join him because I haven't yet been to a dance performance in NYC. Also the show is at 2 pm so I say, "If we're up for it, we could always check out the museum afterwards, but there's no pressure.

When I emerge above ground at the 18th St. stop I'm stunned to see that Peter McManus is right there. This is the pub I hung out with the Brit on St. Paddy's Day. It's hard to believe that was a month ago. Time really flies. I kind of pause and smile as I remember that night. You may be wondering what my emotion has been since I stopped talking to the Brit almost a couple of weeks ago. It's interesting. I miss him, but it's not a longing sensation. The best way I know how to describe it is to say it feels like a healthy missing of someone as opposed to a heartwrenching, gut throbbing pain. I've felt that pain before when it didn't work out with guys especially with my ex-boyfriend the Pianist, and feeling like that was not pretty. Back in the day, I used to think that feeling like that when something didn't work out must have meant that my love and passion for that person was true, but what I now think in a stronger sense is that any love interaction that leaves you feeling that way can't possibly stand a chance of working out in a healthy way in the end. When you need to be with someone as opposed to just simply wanting to be with them, I think the love is unbalanced, and it's never really going to be beneficial for either party involved. For the first time in my life, when I think about the Brit, I think about the potential for a relationship that is fulfilling on every level and equal parts give and take and balanced. I feel freakin' healthy in relation to him, and that is an awesome thing. I don't know how he feels on his end, but if it's still reciprocal when I'm done exploring myself then I would say that it's possible I will fall so in love with him, so much more than I'm even thinking I'm capable of right now, and call me crazy, but I think it would be a good thing.

I continue on up the street, and I reach the Joyce Theater. It is raining so I stand under the awning along with all of the other patrons who are meeting up with people. NYC is such a meet up kind of place. In so many other places I've lived, the dialogue is more like, "Hey, I'll pick you up at such and such time," and you carpool together everywhere because in a place like LA or Texas you can't walk or take the subway anywhere. Instead everyone drives from one destination to another. I like the quality of New York that says that two people can come from completely different sections of town, meet up and go on a variety of random adventures together, and then go their separate ways. It is indicative of the fast pace of life and the intersplicing of interactions amongst busy schedules and busy daters. For the first time in a while, I am actually the first one to arrive. I find myself milling about for around 10 minutes when I finally see the Entrepreneur approach under a black umbrella. He doesn't go in for the usual hug but instead just says, "Yeah, I was trying to call you just now. I wasn't sure if you were gonna make it out with this rain." I say, "Oh, you know what? I totally forgot my phone at home this morning so I just figured you'd show up eventually." He says, "Yeah especially since I already got tickets and everything, right? Okay, let's go inside to will call."

He's very business like. I'll tell you the truth. I was never very into the Entrepreneur even at speed dating because I remember he talked about himself A LOT. Not that I don't think it's interesting to hear people's stories because I definitely do, but he's the kind of guy I find myself wondering why he even wanted to go out with me. He doesn't know anything about me. Once we get into the will call line, he doesn't miss a beat, and he's off and running telling me about all the different projects he's been working on. Apparently he has three different businesses he's currently running. Two have to do with finance, and one is a record label in Atlanta. He's also in the upstart phase for a new restaurant he's planning on opening with his business partner who coincidentally was the Spanish guy from speed dating that I was somewhat interested in. I got the Spanish guy's info, but he never contacted me probably because the Entrepreneur here intercepted him. Oh well, it figures. As he's talking and spewing out the details of his life with barely a pause in between sentences, I'm getting flashbacks to Mr. Slick and the Banker. These guys are all the same--it's the buildup, the sales pitch, they have to close the deal perfectly. It's so weird how if you get too wrapped up in the business world that kind of persona just consumes you, or maybe it's vice versa. Maybe their personalities are like this to begin with so they have no choice but to swim with the sharks and compete to be #1 in the business world. Whatever the fact of the matter is, I'm not into it.

Once we get the tickets, we take our seats which are really good actually. They're in the orchestra section, and the theater itself is very nice. It's very intimate so it appears that even if you had seats way in the back, you would still have a nice view of the stage. I can tell that the Entrepreneur is very cultured. I remember talking about dance with him at speed dating, and it turns out that he has studied all different kinds. In fact, he was a triple major at Columbia in business, English, and dance. He's a very intelligent guy, but I have to say there's something missing. It's charm. He's not very charming. He's rather analytical and to the point, and most of the time the point he's making is that he excels at so many different things and he goes on lots of fancy business trips and he's always getting tickets to performances. This is all fine, well, and good, but I gotta say humbleness is much sexier. Being accomplished is one thing, but shoving it into someone's face in hopes that they'll buy it is quite another. It's my feeling that if you are successful and you have achieved a variety of things, those accomplishments and accolades will come out on their own terms and in their own time. Some topic of conversation will lead us there. It doesn't have to be stated in such an obvious manner.

I'm rather relieved when the lights go down, and the performance begins. It turns out that Paul Taylor is one of the premiere names in the dance world, and this show features some of his choreography in ballet, modern, and there's even one section on swing. The dancers are amazing. Their technique is so precise, and the positions they have to put their bodies in is astounding. The only mishap takes place during the first act when one of the dancers takes a tumble, but she immediately hops back up and continues on with the performance. There is no time to miss a beat as the dances are so well put together and rhythmical. All in all there are four acts to the show, and each one is different from the next, and it makes me have such respect and awe for dancers especially their bodies, absolutely statuesquelike. And the male dancers....umph....just sayin'. Once the show is over I tell the Entrepreneur that I enjoyed it immensely. He asks me which act was my favorite, and I tell him the one with the swing dancing theme just because I thought it was a lot of fun. I ask him the same question, and he says the last act is the one that truly moves him everytime.

We exit out of the theater, and he asks me, "So do you want to check out El Museo del Barrio now?" I'm a bit surprised that he still wants to go, but I'm totally up for it if he is so I say, "Yes, definitely." We hop on a subway heading Uptown. Though we've only had sporadic converstational exchanges here and there before the show and during intermission, I've observed enough about the Entrepreneur to know that he's the type of person that I can just kind of wind up and let him go. This basically means that he's not so much interested in hearing about me because even when the topic does turn to my side, he always somehow ends up flipping it back in his direction, and we end up talking more about his life and achievements. Even though I'm not interested in him, I'm fine with this. I've met people like this before and obviously been on dates with this type before, and I find that the easiest most relaxing thing for me to do is to just sit back and listen, and occasionally throw a question out to keep the conversation flowing. In a way, there's really no pressure because I don't feel like I have to put much effort into selling myself for both of the above listed reasons--1. I'm not interested in the guy and 2. I don't think he's really interested in hearing about me.

I'm the youngest of four children. I've often heard it said that the youngest children in families often become loud as a result of having to fight to be heard. I think I went the opposite route on this in that I kind of realized early on that I have the type of disposition where it's not really important for me to get in the mix and have to be heard or have to be the center of attention. I'm quite fine actually kind of hanging about in the background and observing. Also, I think I realized early on that the way for me to get attention in my family was to really listen to others and be interested in what they were saying and engage them so that's probably why I am the way I am presently--inquisitive and curious and always asking a million questions. It's not because I'm phoning it in but instead because I'm genuinely interested in learning about people. That being said, I do have to say that I'm highly picky about who I click with both romantically and even platonically. I've never been one of these people who needed a hundred friends to thrive. Instead I've always kept a very small, tightknit circle wherever I live, and I find that every person I have ever really bonded with and gotten to know on an intimate level shared a commonality of expressing real interest in me and my life and actually reciprocated questions back. My best friend from college Michele was this way as was my good gay buddy Albert. My ex-the Pianist was definitely that way, and I totally fell in love with him. My half Japanese gal pal Yamato is this way, and even the Cuban was very much this way which is why I think I attached to him so quickly. My roommate Dawn is like this. The Brit is this way to a certain extent, and definitely I think I started to feel it more the more time I started to spend with him. There have been and are others, but those are the ones that spring to mind quickly and fondly. Also, these people are all giant goofballs as well except for Dawn, but she lets me be goofy and goes along with it which is equally important. And the Entrepreneur is definitely not either of these qualities so I know how to proceed with the rest of the date in order to make it somewhat enjoyable for both of us.

We arrive at El Museo del Barrio. I don't know a whole lot about this museum except that I'm assuming it must be Latin themed according to the name. Once we get inside we realize that it's primarily centered around Puerto Rican culture, but it does have art from other Latin artists. Most of the art is very modern and the museum is filled with a lot of bright colors which I think is indicative of the flamboyance of Latin culture. Like many of the museums I've been to, this one as well features a lot of abstract stuff that is left open to a lot of interpretation. I don't really know why, but I really like this kind of art. I know many people just kind of go, "I don't get it," but I think that's what appeals to me. I like that some of it looks like a 5 year old did it. I like that some of it literally looks like a pile of junk. I like that what defines art is somebody saying, "Hey, this is art," and all it takes is for one other person to say, "Yeah, I can dig it. I agree. That's totally art." I guess this goes to my independent spirit. I think people should do what they want to do, and everyone has a vision. Who am I or anyone else to say that something isn't beautiful and unique? I'm such a bohemian compared to the rest of my family, but I love it.

An interesting thing happens at the museum. The Entrepreneur starts to loosen up...just a tiny bit. He's still his very tightly wound self. I don't think he could ever really undo this nor should he because this is his nature, and it will suit someone someday just not me today. However, while we're looking at this art, I obviously am making some kind of very goofy offhand comments, and I think this kind of gets him to take it down one level and realize he doesn't have to be in super critic mode all the time or even super serious mode. He starts making comments, too, and for the first time in the whole day I start to find some of the things he says funny. We laugh when we can't tell when something is part of the exhibition or just part of the museum. We go into this one area that has this very bold tile. The Entrepreneur says it reminds him of being in an Egyptian mausoleum of some sort. I say it reminds me of being in a bathroom of some sort. He laughs at the very different interpretations we have. I'm feeling very "Dharma and Greg" right now. Ya know, the uptight business guy with the free spirited hippie. The key difference would be that there's no attraction, and I don't want to make it work with this guy, but yeah very "opposites on a date" right now.

Once we finish the museum, the Entrepreneur tells me he's going to take me to his favorite restaurant in this area. We hop back on the subway and head down a few blocks. We end up at none other than Serendipity. I love Serendipity. As you'll recall I've been here a couple of times before--once as a tourist while visiting my friend Michele and once with the Cuban back in November. This is a first, however, in that this is the first time a date has taken me to a restaurant that I have already been to. When we get there I say, "Oh, I've been here before, but I love it." He says, "Oh, really? You've already eaten here before?" I say, "Yeah, I came here back in November I think, but I've never eaten dinner here. I've only had the dessert." He says, "Everything is good here. You'll like it. Who did you come here with in November?" I just say, "A friend." There's usually a monster wait to be seated, at least 30 minutes, but we are lucky in that there's almost no wait, and we are seated within 5 minutes.

The huge menu is the defining feature of Serendipity. That and the fact that it really became famous after the movie "Serendipity" came out. I really love that movie. First of all, it has John Cusask so a no brainer on the like factor, but it's also such a "this could only happen in a movie" type movie. It's basically about this man and woman who meet while Christmas shopping and spend this one magical Christmas Eve together, and they don't exchange info but instead decide to leave it to fate if their paths cross again. It's Hollywood so obviously they do after about 5 years later and when both of them are with significant others. Sometimes I think I'm too heavily influenced by Hollywood movies and TV shows and song lyrics. Yeah, I know I am, but come on. Who doesn't want that very original story that will stand out amongst the others? Everyone is searching to be the center of attention in their own personal story. In any event, the Entrepreneur says I have to order the frozen hot chocolate because it is their signature beverage, and it is to die for. Beyond that we order the chicken nachos as appetizers, and I order the curried shrimp almondine as my main dish. Once the food comes, I have to give the Entrepreneur some credit. He was not lying. It is outstanding. This is total comfort food, and I have to say being less than enthused during portions of this date are totally being made up for by this meal. Yummers.

Over the meal, the Entrepreneur seems happy that I am enjoying the meal so much. He says he definitley likes to eat so it's refreshing to see a girl who can keep up, and I am happy to accomodate him on this. I don't remember how the topic of "Sex and the City" comes up, but it does probably as a result of discussing dating in NYC. The Entrepreneur is a native New Yorker, and he obviously seems like he's very into the whole social culture of NYC so I ask him if he thinks the show is an accurate depiction on the City. He says very seriously and passionately, "Ya know, it wasn't, but that is what the City is becoming like as a result of the show." He goes onto say that now you have all these women who watch the show and love the show and want to live their lives that way proclaiming to be "single and happy" when in actuality before women were more traditional and searching for a guy to settle down with. Well, I never lived in NYC pre-1998 so I have no idea if women were more traditional back then, but I can almost see how he has a point. I think maybe there were just as many single women walking around, but it wasn't until that show came along that the message was really put out there to embrace it and be a free living woman with no boundaries and no constraints and no desperate desire to grab a guy by age 30. Basically what the Entrepreneur is saying is that these women existed, but at the core they were still searching to find their Prince Charming and their happy ever after. However, maybe because NYC hasn't changed in that the focus was still on career and dating unattainable men, the women were remaining single and becoming discouraged.

Then Carrie Bradshaw emerged and represented the embodiment of this woman who was torn between the extremes of being such her own person and wanting to fall hopelessly in love and live happily ever after and, of course, she falls for the one guy who can't give her that right off the bat. But if you think about it, Samantha is the only true embodiment of a NYC woman who has no desire to be tied down with one man. She's a maneater and proud of it. The other two characters of Charlotte and Miranda spend half the series married, and ultimately Carrie would have as well if Big had committed to her a lot sooner. Most of the girls I know who are single say if given the choice, they would much rather be with a boyfriend if he were a good guy. Almost every movie or TV show that features a single female character is ultimately in search of a guy who will make her happy and complete her. So the Entrepreneur concludes that he thinks it's wrong for this show to implant in women's heads that they need to be single to be their own person, and they need to struggle with the dilemma between love and independence in order to retain their own persona. He's a smart guy so he may have a point. No matter what the case, I'll always love the show.

As the meal is concluding the Entrepreneur says that there are a lot of women with an agenda in NYC. He says he sees it all the time--women who want to date you just because you have money or you can do something to help them or to further their career or lifestyle. I'm totally reminded of the Jay-Z song Empire State of Mind where he raps, "Good girls gone bad, the city's filled with them." Yeah, Jay-Z would know. That's probably why he married a Texas girl, go Beyonce. There's a similar reference in a Poison song from the 1980s called Fallen Angel which is about a girl who moves to Hollywood to become a star and totally loses herself. Brett Michaels sings, "Where's the girl I knew a year ago?" Yeah, I think these stories are common in both LA and New York. Women with so much going for them lose themselves all the time because they're lured in by promises of the glamorous life and possibly marrying a man who can give them that lifestyle.

After dinner, the Entrepreneur and I hop in a cab. He says he actually has to head to a business meeting regarding the restaurant with his two business partners, but he'll drop me off on the way. Things are winding down, but on the cab ride home he asks me what drew me to psychology? I say that I definitely want to have a job where I feel like I'm helping people and making a difference. I also tell him that I read that the reason many people in the corporate world burn out around age 40 is because they are not doing anything that's altruistic, and they kind of wake up one day and realize they put all these years of their life into their job, and they may have a lot of money in the bank, but they feel an emptiness. That's why it's important to do something with your time even on just a volunteer basis. When we reach my stop, the Entrepreneur says, "Okay, so why don't you just contact me later in the week, and let me know what your schedule looks like, and we'll get together again." I tell him I will, and then I get out of the cab.

Truthfully, I have no intention of contacting the Entrpreneur again. He's not my type at all. Again I think he's a NYC high roller who would like to model himself after the Big character on Sex and the City, but quite simply he lacks the pinache to pull it off. However, a couple of days later the Entrepreneur writes telling me he had a lovely time at the dance performance and the museum with me. He says he has tickets to watch a live taping of the new show the Marriage Ref on Thursday. Unfortunately or fortunately, it's at 4:45 pm so there's no way I can take off from work to go with him though I can't say I have the slightest interest. But I think back to the dinner conversation we were having and how the Entrepreneur had blatantly said, "You don't seem like an agenda girl. There are a lot of agenda girls in NYC." And that's when it occurs to me, I could totally bag one of these guys if that were my agenda. I could date one of these high powered NYC business men and get taken to the five star restaurants and constantly taken to shows and plays and performances all over the City. And it's quite simply because I'm not asking for it. The fact that I'm not seeking it out makes it available. I'm not saying that's not appealing, but I'm also saying it's a good thing I don't really care about money. I definitely want to make enough to have a good life and a fun life and the opportunity to live the way I want to live, but things like chemistry, charm, being a good listener, and undoubtedly being a giant goofball are quite simply...priceless.

Joyce Theater: http://www.joyce.org/
El Museo del Barrio: http://www.elmuseo.org/
Serendipity: http://www.serendipity3.com/

Date #41--The Admissions Guy

2010-04-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

It is 4:30 pm on Saturday afternoon, and I am meeting the Admissions Guy at the Drawing Center which is an art gallery located on one of the side streets just off from the heart of Chinatown. I go in, and the first thing I notice is that it's just a small room. I'm thinking, "This will take no time at all to breeze through." However, I don't see my date, and he had texted me a few minutes prior letting me know that he was early and that he'd be waiting for me. I decide to call him, and when he picks up I say, "Hey, are you here?" He answers in the affirmative. I say, "I don't see you anywhere," and just then I see the guy who is sitting at the desk pointing to the yellow building across the street. I realize that the main space is across the way, and I say, "Oh okay, I see. I'm in the wrong building. I'll be right there." I have to wait for a couple of taxis to pass by, and when I reach the other side of the street I immediately see the Admissions Guy. We go to hug each other. I laughingly say, "Dude, I was totally in the wrong place. Have you been waiting around forever?" He laughs, too, and he says, "No, not at all. I just got here not that long ago." It's an interesting thing why I call him the Admissions Guy. It's actually because just recently through our match.com exchanges I discovered that he's the assistant director of admissions for one of the schools at the New School which is where I'm currently attending graduate school. He had seen this on my profile, and that's when he mentioned it. I thought it might be cool to meet someone who was actually affiliated with my school. Afterall, I spent my entire undergraduate career dating guys who went to my college which at the time was the University of Southern California. I have yet to go on a date with any guy from the New School. And do you know why? Because there are none. Believe me, I have looked, and it's all chicks or gay guys or there are a random handful of straight guys, but they have quickly fallen into the friendship zone. In any event, I guess you could say this is a night of firsts then--my very first date with a fellow New School student as he's currently getting his master's there as well.

I'm actually quite excited to talk to him because I have a ton of questions regarding the admissions process. I know you're thinking, but aren't you already in, Carole? This is true, but as you'll recall I've been studying psychology for the past year. I do find it interesting, but I have to be honest. I don't know if I really see myself as a clinical psychologist type in the long run. The brain and mental illness and all of that stuff is sometimes not exactly my cup of tea, and what I think I am ultimately drawn to is people and their experience in the world and interacting within it. Thus, I kind of see myself moving more in the direction of social work. I know that ultimately I definitely want to be in a helping profession where I feel like I'm making a difference. However, I also have to tell you that just recently I've had to admit to myself that I still have this burning passion to live my life overseas. Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love New York, and I see myself being here absolutely nothing short of 7-10 years, but I don't really see myself building my longterm life here. And this isn't something I've been keeping a secret. It really is something I wanted to try to figure out, and more than anything this year of dating dangerously in NYC has taught me an abundance about myself, and the ultimate conclusion I am drawing is that you can take the girl out of the wanderlust, but you can't take the wanderlust out of the girl. This basically means that I love trying new places, and I even love getting settled into them for years at a time, but I like to keep evolving and being challenged. Some people, most people in fact, can do this and thrive while doing this in one set environment. As for me personally, there are so many places I've always wanted to live that I've just come to realize that you only get one life, and if that's your desire you should go for it. So I would like to at some point live in London and Paris and Spain and Australia and Hawaii and San Francisco, etc. In thinking about this, I kind of had to narrow in on a profession that might hold potential in any number of places. I don't really feel psychology is the best choice. I think social work is a better one, and that being said I've also recently been thinking about getting my master's in TESOL which is teaching English to speakers of other languages. I basically did this for a couple of years in Japan so I already have a strong background in it. I am curious to see what Admissions Guy has to say.

So I immediately plunge in, and I say, "Well, to start with I actually have a bunch of questions about the admissions process." He says, "You're getting your master's in psychology, right?" I say, "Yeah, but I've been thinking of switching to TESOL because I really want to live abroad, and I need to study something where I'll be able to work abroad." He says, "Oh, TESOL. Yeah, that's actually one of the programs I help oversee. I get really excited, and I say, "Oh, so you can tell me all about it." And he does. We have a nice chat, and it turns out that I'd be able to finish it by next year which is when I was scheduled to finish the psychology degree anyway. Who knows though? It's all up in the air, and I don't want the date to just be a total Q&A session for the New School. Afterall, that's what Admissions Guy does all day so I suggest that we go in and have a look at the Drawing Center. We go inside, and I notice that again it's just one room, but it's much bigger than the one across the street. This one is the size of an enormous loft, and there's a special exhibit on one artist. The drawings are very vivid and splashed with bright color. I'm not really sure what the exact theme is, but we notice that many of them feature a lion or a dog or a woman in an erotic pose. Maybe there's some correlation between it all.

The thing I notice about Admissions Guy is that he's very jovial. He laughs a lot, and he pokes fun at the art in moments where it is absolutely necessary to make a comment. I'm not particularly attracted to him though. He's an average looking/standard looking white guy I suppose. Nothing significant about him jumps out at me. He's not unattractive, but for the most part I just don't find myself terribly attracted to American white guys these days. It's not so much physical, but I think it's the lack of diversity from the culture I have always known. Again it goes back to craving something that is entirely different from me. It turns out Admissions Guy is from upstate New York originally. He moved to the City for graduate school and his job at the New School. He hasn't traveled much outside of the country though he would like to. He currently lives in Queens, and he's just like the rest of us, doing his best to figure it out and find his place in the world.

It only takes about an hour to see all of the drawings, and we walk back out of the building. Admissions Guy says, "So what do you want to do now? You wanna get rid of me, or you wanna keep hanging out?" It's not even 5 pm yet. I say, "Well, I don't have any plans so, yeah, let's keep hanging out." I don't know if Admissions Guy was expecting this to crash and burn, but he doesn't have a plan for after the gallery so he suggests that we just walk since it's a bit too early to eat. We walk through SoHo, and I tell him that I would love to live in a loft around here, but it is way more expensive than I could ever afford. He tells me that Vanessa Carlton was going to apply to the New School a few years ago, and she ended up inviting him to a party at her loft which is around here. He says it was awesome. We walk some more. We pass by a jewelry store with these real live bears that have been stuffed and put on display. I say, "Let's go in because when I see bears that just says to me 'I need some diamonds'." Admissions Guy is not hungry just yet. I tell him that's fine. I say, "I'm hungry, but I'm not starving. I could hold out for a maximum of probably 2 hours, but that would be pushing it." I go onto ask, "So are you usually not hungry, not hungry, not hungry, and then all of a sudden you're starving?" He says, "Yeah, there's no build up. It just shows up all of a sudden." I say, "Okay, well, just let me know when the overwhelming hunger strikes." We continue on after gawking at the stuffed bears. Probably 10 minutes pass when all of a sudden he says, "I'm hungry. Let's eat here." I look, and it's this place called SoHo Park. It looks cute so I say okay.

Once we go in, I realize it's an All American joint with burgers and fries and such. It's not a fast food joint but rather one of those upscale gourmet burger places. We place our order at the counter. I decide to go for the daily special of fish and chips and a cherry cola, and Admissions Guy orders a double burger and some onion rings and a root beer. We find a seat right by the window. Once the food comes, we dig in, and it is scrumptious. The fish and chips are good, but I have to tell you that the onion rings are out of this world awesome. I don't know who came up with the concept of onion rings, but I personally consider them one of the best gifts ever given to the eating public to enjoy. Over dinner we talk about random things. Admissions Guy asks me how many dates I've been on from match.com. I say I've been on about 40. Okay, even I'll admit it's starting to sound excessive. In the beginning I could easily get away with saying, "Oh you know 5 or 10." But once you get well into the double digits, you are nothing short of a serial dater. I never was before, but now I have lived to experience and tell what it is like on this side. Not to defend this endless cycle that ultimately only results in surface interactions and casual sex if that's what you're into (I'm not, but I could see how it could be all about that), but I have to say that I think serial dating serves a purpose. If you're not relationship oriented it can keep you from getting lonely, and if you're not really sure what you're looking for or you're looking to learn more about yourself, I think you can learn a ton from the practice of it. I remember in the last letter the Brit wrote to me one of the concerns he expressed was that if we did begin dating again, he might always question what would make me want to stop after 50 dates if indeed I did love the practice of dating so much. Well, I'll only truly be able to determine that once I'm in the moment of having experienced 50 first dates, but I do know that as a general practice I wouldn't find these kinds of fleeting interactions more worthwhile in the longterm as compared with the intensity and deepness I could cultivate with one person who I really fancied such as the Brit. I guess we'll find out.

In any event, Admissions Guy thinks 40 is a lot. I ask him how many match.com dates he's been on, and he says 15. I say, "Okay, see. You've been utilizing the service as well." I ask him if there was a spark with any of them, and he says with one only, but it wasn't reciprocal. I say, "Yeah, statistically what I have found is that for every 10 dates you go on, there is usually one guy who holds some potential." Afterall, I'm not to 50 yet, but there have been 5 guys with real potential--The Cuban, Food Guy, the Hapa, Sitcom Guy, and the Brit, and out of the 5, I would say 2 had definite potential so in the end dating is just a number's game. Once we finish eating, we head outside and start walking again. Admissions Guy says, "So do you remember reading on my profile that I smoke?" Honestly, I don't remember taking note of it, but it's not a big deal to me especially since I'm already feeling like there's not much of an attraction on my end. I say, "Umm, I may have read that, but it's fine. You do what you need to do." He takes out a cigarette and lights up. I start waving my hand and say, "Eew that's gross." And then I laugh and say, "I'm just kidding." Once we reach Canal St., Admissions Guy jokes that it's his least favorite street in the world. He says it's so congested with people, and he just gets super uncomfortable. As we're crossing it I say, "Just remember to breathe. We're almost through it." He likes that I'm being overly dramatic.

When we get past Canal, he says, "Well, I just want you to know I don't have a plan. I have no idea where we're going." I ask, "Well, we did a museum, and we had dinner. What do you think would be the next logical thing?" He says, "I would suggest a drink. That's what seems logical to me." I say, "Okay, do you have a certain bar in mind?" He says, "Nope." As we're walking, I notice we're kind of just heading in the direction of my apartment in the Financial District so I say, "There's a bar in my neighborhood that we could go to." He thinks that's a good idea. I lead the way since he's actually not familiar with my neighborhood at all. He jokingly asks, "Are we even still in Manhattan because I don't think I've ever been here before?" I say, "You're in for a treat. Well, actually I've never even been to this bar, but I've been wanting to go because it's literally like 5 minutes from my apartment." It's called the Iron Horse. Many a night I have walked past this place, and there's always loud hard rock music blaring. It's only about 6 pm so things haven't gotten juiced up just yet, but we go in, and we notice that this place looks wild. There's a swing on the bar for people to swing on, and there are poles on top of the bar. There are also hula hoops behind the bar. This place has the potential to get crazy, but as for right now, there are only a handful of people milling about around the bar.

The bartender who is this bubbly redheaded girl comes over, and I order an apple martini. Admissions Guy says, "Well, if we're going that route..." I say, "Why? What are you gonna order?" He says, "I was just gonna order a beer, but if we're going that route I'll have a dirty martini." Once we get our drinks I notice that there's a pool table in back. I say, "Do you like to play pool?" He says, "Yes, I do. You wanna go play?" I say, "Yep." We take our drinks and go to the pool table. I'm really excited. I haven't yet played pool on a date, but I think it'll be fun. I think any activity where a little friendly competition is involved is always a good idea. So Admissions Guy breaks, and it turns out he's stripes, and I'm solids. He does pretty good at first, and what surprises me most is that I do okay, too. It's seriously been years since I played pool, but I find myself getting the balls in the holes. Whenever I pull the stick back and pop the ball really hard into the hole, Admissions Guy seems simultaneously astonished yet pleased. What is it with guys? They love competing with girls. Eventually it comes down to just the black 8 ball, and I aim and fire it into the hole. Game over, and I win. Admissions Guy is a good sport. Just then we hear the music get cranked up really loudly, and we see the bubbly redhead doing a dance with the swing on top of the bar. We both sit back in amazement watching the show.

Afterwards, we go back to the bar and have another round. Then Admissions Guy asks me if I want another or if we should get out of here. I say there's another bar at the Southstreet Seaport that I have never been to so we decide to hop over there. It definitely feels like springtime. The night air feels nice and breezy. The outdoor seating is back at all the restaurants. We head to the mall, and on the 3rd floor there is a bar that is attached to a restaurant that I've never been to. We go in, and it is a completely different atmosphere from the biker bar we just came from. We're definitely not going to be seeing any bubbly redheads dancing on this bar. There's not even a swing attached. As an alternative I say there's also the margarita bar in the food court. We go to check it out, but neither of us really wants a margarita so we go back to the bar. I decide to switch it up, and I get a midori sour. I absolutely love, love, love these. They are my second favorite behind apple martinis.

So Admissions Guy and I continue talking, and the controversial topic of religion comes up. I tell him that I'm Christian. He's Agnostic. I'm thinking it won't be a problem especially since this is only the first date, and I'm not invested, but Admissions Guy totally makes it an issue. He seems to get uncomfortable, and he says, "I can't believe you actually believe that the stuff in the Bible is true." I don't really know how to answer him so I just say, "Well, I do." It's not like I'm saying he should, but I can see he's getting fired up so I just let him go on his rant. Believe me, I know there are plenty of overzealous Christians out there. Even they scare me, but there are just as many overzealous Agnostics, too. At the end of the day, it's about respecting a person's right to believe in whatever it is they believe. I just could never be with a guy who couldn't do that for me. After it's out of his system, Admissions Guy calms down, and we get onto a different topic, and it's interesting because I think since we've had the religion talk he somehow feels more connected to me. He's more affectionate towards me, or maybe that third drink is getting to him. He says he's going to smoke again and asks me if I want to join him. I say sure. We walk outside on the deck, and we sit down on the bench.

He puts his arm around me. Oh man, I am not feeling this, but I'm feeling like we're probably almost done here so I'm just gonna ride it out. I'm not having an awful time. Admissions Guy is fun enough, but I feel like he's totally getting the wrong idea or going in the wrong direction. I find boredom leads people to do strange things, and I like to stay stimulated in the moment so I ask Admissions Guy if I can have a puff of his cigarette. He says, "I thought you said you didn't smoke." I say, "I don't, but I just do it for a laugh in social situations." He hands me his cigarette, and I inhale and exhale. I hand it back to him. He sucks it in. I ask him if he can blow ringlets. He says no. After the cigarette, we go back inside. I get another midori sour, and he gets another drink as well. He says he sees some couches in the back by the fireplace and suggests that we go take a look.

We sit down, and again Admissions Guy is sitting very close. We keep talking about this and that, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere Admissions Guy plants one on me. I'm stunned only because I don't remember giving any clear signs that I wanted him to start making out with me. It wasn't like that time I was at the bar with Mr. Handsome, and I was clearly asking him to taste my lips, and he did nothing. And that's when it occurs to me. I think there's a key difference between white guys and Asian guys when it comes to boundaries and affection. Asian guys are very respectful almost to a fault, and most of them will pretty much wait for you to make the move. Well, except for this one Asian guy in Texas who I made out with on the first date. But with white guys, they just go all in. Of course, it's case by case. But think about it. Admissions Guy is only the second guy to attempt a kiss on the first date, the first being the Brit. Personally I thought making out on the first date with the Brit was a bit soon, and I actually liked the guy. You can imagine how I'm feeling about making out with Admissions Guy considering how ambivalent I feel about him. So once Admissions Guy comes up for air I just say, "So what is your biggest fear?" He says, "Wow, that's kind of a mood breaker talking about one's biggest fears." I say, "I'm gonna go to the restroom, and you be thinking about it."

The truth is I didn't really have to go to the restroom, but I needed a moment to think and to realize that I've let this go too far. Sure flirting is fun, and who doesn't like a little attention, but I have no real and genuine interest in this guy, and we've already firmly established that I'm not gonna have a one night stand just because I so clearly could at this point. I don't have a solution so that's why I'm really relieved when I exit out of the restroom, and I see that the restaurant is preparing to close. Admissions Guy and I realize that we must leave the premises. As we're leaving the mall he says, "So what do you want to do now?" I say, "Well, I should head home. I have to go to church in the morning." As he's walking me home, he's holding my hand, and he says, "Do you want me to give you a massage? I can give you a good massage." I just kind of smile uncomfortably and say, "No, it's okay. I have to get up early in the morning." He says, "But I give good massages." Okay, Guys, take note. If a girl says she has to wake up early in the morning, it's usually code for, "Stop asking me to come up to my apartment to make out with me. I don't want to make out with you anymore." Once we reach my door, I'm a bit relieved, and I say, "Okay, so just go straight up this street, and the 4/5 train is on the left at Broadway." He gives me another kiss goodnight, and he says, "I had fun, and even if this doesn't work out, you should still apply to the TESOL program. I think I could really help you out." I think he notices a look of alarm on my face, and he says, "No, seriously. I was just kidding. I take my job very seriously. I would never let this interfere." And I say, "It's good to know you're not in the practice of sexual harrassment." And yeah, we kind of leave it at that. We say goodnight, and that's that.

I have to be honest. I spent the next couple of days worried that Admissions Guy would contact me raving about what a great time he had and wanting to go out again, but surprisingly four days passed before he finally wrote saying he had a truly "excellent time," but there were a couple of things he thought were deal breakers that would have been just that in the end so he wished me luck and again mentioned that I should apply to the TESOL program. Is it terrible to say I was relieved to be rejected by Admissions Guy? I mean seriously, did we need the formal announcement that things wouldn't continue? But in reality, I think I have an idea of what the deal breakers were. They were probably the fact that I talked so much about wanting to live abroad and obviously the religion thing and in the end maybe the fact that I wouldn't have sex with him on the first date, but in the end those just aren't things I'm going to compromise on. I'm searching for a guy who can understand me in those areas and who is a perfect fit for my life. I have to be honest. I see myself as an independent spirit. Of course, I would love to fall in love and get married and have babies (someday), but I've also been okay for some time with the idea of traveling and living my life with or without a man by my side. However, ever since I met and got to know the Brit, he really got me excited because for the first time I think I've met a guy who can keep up with me and could maybe live the lifestyle that I crave and be happy building a universe where we were the main focus. I like him so much. The Brit, if you're out there just know that even though I shared a second first date kiss with him, the Admissions Guy has nothing on you.

The Drawing Center: http://www.drawingcenter.org/
SoHo Park: http://www.sohoparknyc.com/
Iron Horse: http://ironhorsenyc.com/

The Good Guy and The Bad Boy

2010-04-27T17:58:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows the whole good guy/bad boy syndrome. This was basically the idea behind my very first post where I talked about the concept of there being two types of men in the world. There's the bad boy that your parents warned you about, and there's the good guy that you are supposed to bring home to mom and dad and marry. In the end, there are always the bad boys who want to be good guys but are always gonna have a bit of a bad streak except in certain occasions where they meet a girl who makes them finally rethink everything and change their ways. And there's the good guy who wants to be a bad boy because he knows that's what girls are drawn to, but at the end of the day he's always gonna be a good guy and do the right thing. If you think about it, so many of Hollywood's depictions of the love dilemma present these two polar opposite characters who are both so appealing in their own ways and who inevitably both have deficits and shortcomings. Afterall, no one is perfect. Even Prince Charming had his faults. It's just that in fairy tales, there's never an epilogue to show you what happens the next day.

Obviously, I have already talked extensively about Sex and the City, and we know that Big and Aidan represent the two types of men, and obviously in the end Carrie cannot rest until she succeeds at taming the Bad Boy. Also, in Bridget Jones' Diary, Bridget is torn as well between the outrageously charming Daniel Cleaver portrayed to a tee by Hugh Grant and Mark Darcy who at first seems stiff and a bit of a bore but who turns out to be such the perfect guy for her even in the very last shot when she thinks he is running away from her only to find out that he's just gone to buy her a new diary. Such a sweetheart so obviously this is a story of epic proportions where the nice guy does not finish last. And aah yes, there was always 90210 to complete the trilogy with their presentation of the dueling James Dean prototypes. There was Brandon who was always the dutiful son, the class President, the loyal friend, the hardworking Peach Pit employee. And then there was Dylan who was the angst ridden teenage alcoholic later turned drug addict trust fund baby who almost got Brenda pregnant in the first season. But let's face it. Kelly Taylor, portrayed excellently for 10 years by the unflappable Jennie Garth, was the real center of attention between these guys. And the thing is she could never make a real and valid decision. She was with Dylan because he was calm, cool, dangerous, and always unreliable, and she was with Brandon because he was comforting, understanding, supportive, and so willing to change her bandages after she was in the house fire. Okay, I do realize I was waaay into this show in my teen years, and the remnants are still very apparent. But my point in all of this is that she liked Brandon for all of the practical reasons and because he was a great guy, and she liked Dylan for all of the impractical reasons and because he was such a stud. It actually came to the point where she found the choice to be impossible to make, and she let both of them go. I'm with you on that, Kelly. I was much the same throughout the series. When it first came on, I was absolutely smitten with Brandon. He was just so nice, and he treated everyone so well, and he seemed like he would be the perfect boyfriend, but somewhere around season 3 I just totally flipped for Dylan, and I was in love with his devil may care attitude and his rebelliousness.

I guess you could say this has been a lifelong dilemma in what I'm ultimately searching for. Obviously my immediate gut instinct is that I want a nice guy. I really, really do. My ex-boyfriend who I was madly in love with for many years was seriously like one of the nicest people you will ever meet. There wasn't a mean or malicious or spiteful bone in his body. He wasn't edgy at all. People tell me I seem nice and bubbly all the time, but let me tell you something. That guy totally made me pale in comparison as far as just overall niceness goes, and that's what I liked about him. And yet it's ironic that almost hands down every single guy who I have liked or gone after outside of him were totally the bad boy types. Ya know, in a band, smoked a lot of pot, non-commital, rebellious, dating 5 girls at once types, enough issues to make me want to give them a magazine rack. So there's something that inevitably kept attracting me to those guys who I was never gonna be with. It's simple really. Most of the time, the bad boys are a lot of fun, and I think if you approach it as just enjoying it for the fun time that it is and being prepared to happily move along once it's run its course, you could actually have a fun couple of months. It's only when you start to get invested and start wanting to be the girl that can make that unattainable guy rethink things that you can get let down really fast.

In a final bit of pop culture reference material, are you at all familiar with the song "Unsent" by Alanis Morissette? The truth is I've never been a humongoid fan of Alanis, but this was always my favorite song of hers. The concept is basically that she's writing a letter to each of the guys who has been in her life, and they basically represent every scenario most girls will ever encounter. One guy is the guy who's already in a relationship with someone who you can't be with. Yep, been there. One guy is the guy who's way too into sexual experimentation so you can never really form anything deeper than that. Yep, been there. And then she writes to the bad boy that we all know and love:

"Dear Jonathan, I liked you too much. I used to be attracted to boys who would lie to me and think solely about themselves, and you were plenty self-destructive for my tastes at the time. I used to say the more tragic the better. The truth is whenever I think of the early 90's your face comes up with a vengeance like it was yesterday."

This guy totally reminds me of the Cuban.

And then she writes to the good guy that we also grow to know and love and appreciate so much:

"Dear Terrance, I love you muchly. You've been nothing but open hearted and emotionally available and supportive and nurturing and consummately there for me. I kept drawing you in and pushing you away. I remember how beautiful it was to fall asleep on your couch and cry in front of you for the first time. You were the best platform from which to jump beyond myself. What was wrong with me?"

This guy totally reminds me of the Brit. Yeah, I'll second your emotion, Alanis. What is wrong with me?

The final letter she writes is to that one guy who it didn't work out with but who will always have a part of you on a deeper level even when they're no longer in your life:

"Dear Lou, We learned so much. I realize we won't be able to talk for some time, and I understand that as I do you. The long distance thing was the hardest, and we did as well as we could. We were together during a very tumultuous time in our lives. I will always have your back and be curious about you, about your career your whereabouts."

This guy totally reminds me of my ex--the Pianist. But enough about that, and enough of me blatantly showcasing that I am way over the top a total pop culture junkie.

The reason I felt compelled to write this entry is because you're probably wondering what the latest status update with the Brit is. So when we last left off, I had sent a little letter of my own asking him to make a choice because remaining in limbo was quite simply taking its toll on both of us. On the Sunday after we stopped talking, I had been in Brooklyn for a birthday brunch, and I passed by the street where he lived on my way home, and it totally made me think of him and want to jump off of the bus and go hang out with him for the rest of the day, but I didn't. Instead, that night I wrote him a simple email just saying that I missed him but that I wasn't trying to rush his decision at all. Rather, I was happy he was taking the time to actually assess what was right and healthiest for him in this moment in time. I am almost sure I won't hear back from him, and I continue to wonder what he is thinking.

On Wednesday morning I open my email, and much to my surprise there is a response letter from the Brit in my inbox. This part is the most nerve racking. It always is--that moment where you have posed a question, and you really care about the answer, but you're totally uncertain how the person will respond. That is the worst moment, but I click on it, and much to my surprise he has written me a very long and detailed response. I immediately start reading it. The Brit, as always, is so open with his emotions and feelings. He is able to express himself so well in writing both literally and figuratively. A guy who can write has always been a major league turn on to me so he definitely has that going for him. In a nutshell, he basically tells me that he has chosen option #2 which just to remind you is the plan to take a break for about a month while I finish my blog and basically do what I need to do, and then we'll see each other and see where we're at with everything. I am so over the top thrilled that he has chosen this option. This was my favorite as opposed to continuing to try to see each other and try to balance everything and watch it crash and burn so painfully like it did with the Cuban or to just go our separate but friendly ways forever. I am so happy that he's leaving the option open that we may be able to see each other and still have that electric chemistry and start dating again when we are closer to a similar emotional place and mindset. It's my feeling that if our chemistry and compatibility is this good and strong, it'll still be there in a month, but I can understand and sympathize with the Brit's reluctance. A lot can happen in a month, and obviously you never know who you might meet on a given day or a given date, and that goes for both of us. It's almost like playing with fate in a way, and I am sane enough to admit that I know this is not a movie with a guarantee of a happy ending, but I guess it's pretty important to me to see what I finish learning because if it wasn't there would be nothing stopping me from being cuddled up with the Brit at this very moment. I write back just to say that I'm super happy he picked #2, and I also say that he makes me feel really balanced and stable. These are qualities that I think often get trumped by impulsiveness and impetuousness. I tell him that I think I brought out the impulsiveness in my ex-boyfriend, and the Cuban was definitely impulsive, and what I'm realizing is that maybe I need someone more like the Brit.

I've always felt that timing is an interesting thing, and I do read into little things when they happen. I don't know if my reading is always accurate. In fact, it isn't always, but I think there is sometimes some kind of cosmic energy or psychic bond between people, if you will, that makes things happen that are more than just mere coincidence. It's interesting that I receive the Brit's letter on Wednesday, April 21 because that is the one year anniversary of when my dad died. I was expecting the day to bring obvious feelings of sadness, but it's almost like a gift when I receive his letter first thing in the morning. It's almost like a virtual wave of calmness washes over me, and even though I am not able to be vulnerable with the Brit and let him be there for me, I feel as though he is with me in some small way. But do you wanna hear the even stranger thing? So that night I'm sitting in the library studying, and I hear a text message come through on my phone. I'm wondering who it could be when I pick it up, and I see that it's from the Cuban.

It simply reads, "Hey, are you near your apt.? Wanna grab something to eat?" This is crazy. You don't even understand how crazy and weird the timing is. He hasn't initiated hanging out and going to "grab a bite to eat" in three and a half months, and then on the one day when I'm thinking about my dad and feeling a little sad, he shows up. I write back telling him that I'm actually not at home, and that this next month is super busy with school and everything but that I'd love to catch up sometime. He writes back that it's no worries. I remember he had randomly checked in with me back in March via email. He had just written asking if I was getting super excited about traveling this summer, and I remember I mentioned that I was but that I had been feeling a bit down because the one year anniversary of my dad's death was approaching the next month. I remember he wrote back and was just super nurturing and supportive. Granted I saw this side when we first began dating, and I first started getting to know him. I don't in any way think he's two faced, but he definitely has two distinct sides that he's able to go into and out of, and it was always such a treat when I would see this tender, sensitive side to him because it was so genuine and honest and lovely in a way to see this guy who was such a sort of bad boy in a way still have this devotion and love to his family and be able to be sympathetic with regards to feelings of loss. I remember on that particular day he had written about how he sees his own dad getting older, and it guts him, but we just have to strive to be the best people we can so that we can make them proud. I remember I had written back to him that when I met his parents it was pretty apparent to me that they were extremely proud of him. Ya see, for all of the devil may care attributes that the Cuban has, I do genuinely think he's very accomplished in his career and he respects his parents and basically he does want to create a family built on solidarity and love one day when he meets the woman that is just right for his life.

So it's on this Wednesday in particular that I feel comfortable telling him that it's the one year anniversary of my dad's death, and it was a nice surprise to hear from him, and it kind of cheered me up a bit. He writes back just to work hard in school and make my dad proud. Again he's super supportive. I text back, "I'm gonna call you one of these days when you least expect it. Actually it won't be that much of a surprise. It'll be when I finish my blog because I wanna hear about all of your crazy dates." I jokingly write this because I've been kidding him all along that once things are finally off the record, he can finally tell me EVERYTHING about his love life. He ends by saying, "It might be nice to make a cameo before you're done just to prove that in life's journey men and women really can be friends." It's at this point that I'm convinced he really has been reading my blog all along, but I doubt he would ever admit it at least not while I'm still writing it. I write back, "I would like that. I think my readers would like that, too. You were always so popular." He writes back simply, "Haha...it took two to make the story, Darling." Charming as always. In a way, I think the Cuban and I have formed a real and natural friendship. I think enough time has passed that if and when we do hang out in person, there won't really be any awkwardness. I am actually curious to see what it's like though. He's a heck of a lot of fun to talk to, and that's one thing I miss. I miss talking to him, and now I really miss talking to the Brit, too.

So I'm officially 4/5 of the way through my 50 first dates in NYC. It's the homestretch as they say in baseball. What is left to learn? Who is left to meet? I guess only time will tell when the perfect time to end this all will be. And in the end, the good guy/bad boy dilemma does still plague me on some level. I'm smart enough now to at least know when to move on if I see it's not gonna work out with a bad boy, but am I smart enough to stay put if I see it might actually work out with a good guy?

Date #40--The Aussie

2010-04-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

My second round of speed dating a couple of weeks ago yielded me three potential dates to be, and the Aussie is #2 of the group. Okay, I don't want to pour over the accent too much because you've already heard quite enough of that talk with regards to the Brit, but I suppose I'm like most American girls. I like a good Australian accent now and again. When I was a kid, I had a major league crush on Mel Gibson. This was back before he went crazy in front of our very eyes. I'm talking back in the Lethal Weapon 2 days and Air America and did you see and totally swoon over him in Forver Young? He was completely and outrageously striking on a purely physical level. And he was always really charming and funny when I would see him in interviews. This is not even mentioning the fact that he had been a devoted husband to his wife Robin of like 20 something years, and a father of 6 or maybe eventually 7 kids with her. This added to his overall appeal. Like I said before, he had us all fooled. But in any event, it was enough to garner some attention for the land down under and make us American girls sit up and take heed when other Aussie hotties emerged such as Hugh Jackman, Guy Pearce, and the late great Heath Ledger. I remember one time back in 2001 I was working as a coffee barista out in LA at this coffee place that celebrities always came into. One night, Heath Ledger came in, and he was dating Heather Graham at the time so she was with him. They came in and ordered a couple of specialty drinks, and then Heath Ledger who looked so handsome and young and fresh off of the release of "10 Things I Hate About You" very politely asked me, "Where is the restroom?" I directed him around the corner and totally fell in love just a little bit that night. In any event, I guess what I'm getting at in all of this is that I have a thing for international guys. Ya know, Cuban, British, Spanish, Italian--I do not discriminate and definitely do not leave out the Australians.

Like with most of my dates, I throw out the idea of meeting up at a museum to the Aussie. He writes back that it sounds like an interesting plan, but then a couple of days later he does me one better and says he scored some tickets to the Tribeca Film Festival for Friday night. He says it starts at 5:45 pm so we should meet at the theater at 5:30. This poses a bit of a problem because I generally work until 6 pm. However, once I mention the film festival to my co-worker I suddenly find out what a huge deal it is. Don't get me wrong. I haven't been living under a rock or anything. I know that this is Robert De Niro's little baby, but in all honesty I haven't given it much thought until my co-worker looks at me dead seriously and a little over the top and says, "Carole, do you know how hard it is to get those tickets? I've been wanting to go forever. I hate you right now." She's only joking on the last bit, but it's enough to get me really excited about going so I decide to skip my break on Friday so that I can leave at 5 pm instead. I have no idea what we're watching, but I'm excited, and I'm totally jazzed to join the Aussie up until the moment I emerge above ground on Friday evening.

It is right at 5:30 pm, and I am supposed to be meeting him. The theater is a few blocks away. I text the Aussie, "I'm on my way. Sorry." He writes back that he's waiting in line. A few moments pass, and it's about 5:37. The Aussie calls me and asks, "Where are you?" I say, "OMG, I'm on 5th Avenue." Keep in mind I need to get to 2nd Avenue. I can hear a little tension in the Aussie's voice. He says, "They're not gonna let us in if we're late." I say, "Oh no. Okay, I'm totally gonna try to run right now." And I do. As soon as the light changes, I take off going as fast as I can all the while still being in full on work clothes and work shoes. This basically translates to--I don't think I'm running much faster than maybe some people would be if they walked really quickly. But I keep going shooting past University Ave and 4th and then 3rd. As I finally see that I'm approaching 2nd I'm seriously starting to feel out of breath. I see a big awning with a red carpet and a bunch of press people. I approach the theater, and I see the Aussie waiting. It's about 5:43 at this point. I'm convinced we've probably been locked out.

I say, "I'm sooo sorry. Did we miss it?" He says, "I'm not sure, but we'll see." I can feel sweat on my brow. This is seriously the most disheveled I have ever shown up as on a date. I do recall the time I went to the batting cages with the Cuban. I remember after my second round in the cages, I took the helmet off, and the Cuban looked at me in a kind of dramatic way and said, "You're sweating." I said, "Really?" feeling a bit self conscious, but then he followed it up by saying that he thought it was super sexy when he saw a girl sweating because it meant she was sporty and stuff. I would later go onto read in a magazine that many men find the sight of a woman sweating to be sexy because they imagine that it's similar to how she would look when having sex. Things that make you go..hmm. In any event, I don't think that the Aussie and me have formed quite enough of a bond for him to make a similar correlation. Instead he probably just thinks I'm a slob and bad at time management to boot. In any event, we go in, and there's actually no problem being admitted to the theater. It's pretty packed when we go inside, but the usher leads us to these great seats right in the center of the theater. I give the Aussie a high five, and I say, "Wow, everything worked out perfectly." He seems a lot less destressed now that we're seated and ready to watch the show.

It turns out we're watching a series of documentary short films. I'm really looking forward to this. I really like shorts whether it's in film or fiction or come to think of it--dating interactions. There are five, and in a nutshell they are basically about 1. a Japanese American costume designer who was put with her family in an internment camp during WWII, 2. foreign born soldiers who are currently serving in the US military, 3. the concept of missed connections on Craig's List, 4. a heavy metal band in Cuba, and 5. a DJ called Junebug who lived in the Bronx back in the early 1980s. The ones that really stand out to me are the one on the Japanese costume designer just because the cultural history interests me and the missed connections one just because it is so closely related to much of what I write about and ponder in my blog. If you're not familiar with the missed connections section, it's basically where people have an interaction or a missed interaction with someone, and they post a very brief one sentence ad looking for the person. It might say something like, "Girl in the polka dotted skirt who was standing in line at Starbucks reading Sylvia Plath." Or "Guy with the cocker spaniel who gave me directions on 42nd and Park." It could be any random posting, but the reality is that more often than not nothing ever comes of it. Think about it. What are the chances that person is going to be reading Craig's List on the exact day you post the ad? I know for a fact if anyone has ever posted an ad to me, I definitely missed it. I've never even read that section of Craig's List. In a way, I think maybe the people do it for a sense of closure. It helps them to think that they put this desire to find this special someone out into the world, and if it's meant to be, the person will see it. Possibly, but think about how many random encounters and interactions you have in a given day especially in a place like NYC. You could theorize that any one of them are meant to make a greater than average impact on your life. I think a lot of it has to do with being open when the connection comes along. If it comes along your path when you're distracted or not willing to go there, you will easily let it pass you by. I guess that's why it must seem all the more meaningful and relevant if you actually find the person you are searching for on a site like that. The film had one couple that had found each other on there after randomly meeting at a club one night and not exchanging info, and now they're like engaged or something. It also had a guy who had shared a cab with a woman who he did not exchange info with, but he could not stop thinking about her, and he posted the ad. I find it interesting how you can never predict the impact someone will have on you. You might know one person for 10 years and another person for only 3 months, and it's totally possible that the 3 month person will leave more of a bigger impact on your overall life.

After the films the lights go up, and the filmmakers go up to the front and talk about their films for a short bit and answer questions from the audience. One person asks the director of the missed connections film if the guy in the cab ever found the woman, and she says, "No, he did not ever find her, but he says he still thinks about her." Maybe she'll see this film and find him. Afterwards the Aussie and I get up to leave. I thank him for getting the tickets, and I tell him that I really enjoyed it. I ask him which one was his favorite film. He says the one on the DJ called Junebug. It was indeed very compelling as well. I, of course, tell him the ones I told you. Once we leave the theater, the Aussie asks me if I want to go up the street to get a drink. I say, "Sure." We go in a bar that's just a couple of paces away. The Aussie asks me what I want. I haven't eaten dinner yet so I'm a little worried about drinking anything heavy. I ask him what he's having, and he says a Brooklyn Lager. I say I'll have the same. Once we get settled, I'm excited to get to know the Aussie a little better. Truthfully I don't know much about him outside of what I gathered at speed dating which was that he was from Australia, and he currently has a work visa through the high end furniture company he works for as a salesman, and he may be looking for a wife so that he can stay in America. He was kidding about the last part...I think.

I'll be honest. I do like the Aussie's accent, but I'm not attracted to him. He's an average looking guy, but he doesn't really do it for me, and in a way this makes me happy. I know I go on about the Brit's accent, but let's face it. At the end of the day, there has to be a lot more than just the accent. The novelty of that would have worn thin after about a day. And I know in the beginning this is something I was struggling to figure out. I was asking myself, "Do I really like the Brit, or do I just like the fact that he's British?" Trust me folks. I like the Brit. I like the Brit A LOT. I like him so much that I think I might even like him if he were American, but for all intents and purposes being British is a part of him and his character, and I love that aspect on every level, but right here and right now at this bar, this interaction confirms it for me. I do not fancy the Brit for purely superficial reasons. I've grown to like him very much as a person for his sensitivity and his wit and his spontaneity, and I very much one day would like to be in his company again. But on this night I am here with the Aussie who in his own right is not a bad time at all.

I ask the Aussie if people ever think he's British when he talks. He says that sometimes they do. I say, "I could see how people would think that, but if you listen closely I actually don't think British and Australian accents sound that similar at all." He asks me what I know about Australia. He says, "I find that most Americans don't know a whole lot about Australia." I say, "Well, Crocodile Dundee was really famous in America." He says, "Yeah, but Americans don't really know anything about the country." I try to think for a moment what I myself actually know, and I say, "Well, my perception or stereotype if you will is that Australian people are super friendly and happy." He's taking it in a bit mischievously. I continue, "And I think they like to play rugby a lot." I say, "Do you play rugby?" He laughs and says, "Do I look like I play rugby?" Keep in mind he's totally a skinny white guy so in fact the question was not to be taken seriously on my part. I ask him if there's a rivalry between England and Australia. He tells me its a friendly one. I ask if there's one with New Zealand. He says, "There's not really any competition with New Zealand because everyone from there is boring." I laugh. He says, "It's true. Have you ever hung out with a New Zealander? They will bore you to tears." I keep laughing, and I say, "But they have a ton of sheep there, don't they?" He confirms this, and he tells me that the rivalry with New Zealand is friendly as well.

He asks me what my ethnic background is. I tell him that I'm half Japanese and half caucasian. He says his mother would have a fit if she knew he was on a date with me. I say, "Why? Is she racist?" He says, "Well, let me put it to you this way. My oldest brother lives in Japan and is married to a Japanese woman. My middle brother is currently dating a Japanese girl. I'm the youngest son. My mother recently said to me, 'It'd be nice if one of my sons married a normal girl'." I take this to mean normal would imply Australian white girl in this instance or perhaps just white girl. I ask the Aussie if his oldest brother has any kids with his wife. He says, "Yeah, they have two sons." I say, "I bet the kids are really cute." He says, "Oh yeah. They're gonna get so much sex when they're older with the half and half thing going on." I say, "Yeah, half Asian and half white is a great mixture," and seriously I'm not in any way talking about myself when I say this. Whenever I see other hapas, I always think they're so good looking, and obviously that's why I was so interested in dating one for so long, but the Aussie just looks at me knowing that I am one, and he says, "It's a great mixture." I ask, "So did your mom not totally melt when she saw the kids?" And he says, "Yes, she totally did. She's more Japanese than any of us now. Seriously she had issues in the beginning but not anymore." I can see where he's coming from, and I say, "Whenever people see the grandkids, all racial nonsense usually goes out the window."

So it's pretty obvious this is sort of a screening date. The Aussie is not even springing for dinner. Instead he says he's supposed to be meeting up with a friend for dinner. He tells me that he actually just met this guy at a business event, but he's really excited because he's trying to cultivate some male friendships in the City. He says he has a ton of female friends and even some gay guy friends, but he needs a good solid straight guy friend to be his wingman for when he goes out at night. I ask him if he's usually the Maverick or the Goose character in this situation. He says he's Maverick all the way, taking the lead. We get on the topic of how NYC is filled with good looking people. He says he rates himself a 7 on the looks scale, but he considers his personality to be a total 10. He then says, "There aren't really any 10s in this bar, well, except for maybe that guy over in the corner." I look at a guy who's wearing a beanie and sitting at a table with his friends. I say, "Yeah, but the thing with really good looking people is that they don't usually have the best personalities. It's because they've never had to cultivate their personality as much because they've always been able to rely on their looks." So true from what my experience has been. The Aussie gives me a hard time and says, "So what are you saying? Because my personality's a 10 I clearly am not that good looking?" He's totally teasing me. I laugh and say, "No, but you said yourself that you're a 7. I'm the same way. I'm totally a 7. It's all personality with me." Just then the Aussie says, "Tell me he's not totally a 10." I slying look around, and the beanie guy is at the bar ordering a drink. I turn back around, and I say, "Yeah, he's pretty darn good looking." When we turn back around we see him fiddling around near the coat rack. I say, "Look, he's leaving. You need to go say hi so you can try to cultivate a Bromance. That guy will totally let you be his wingman." The Aussie just laughs and says it wasn't meant to be. I say, "Maybe you can post a missed connection ad to him on Craig's List."

After a while, it's time for the Aussie to go try to cultivate his own Bromance with his new potential BFF in the LES. He walks me out of the bar, and I tell him I need to go in the opposite direction to catch my subway. We hug each other, and the Aussie tells me that it was fun and that we should hang out again sometime and spend some real quality time together. I say sure, and we wave goodbye. I doubt I'll ever see him again. Don't get me wrong. The Aussie was fun as I expected he would be and quite humorous actually. It was relatively easy to banter back and forth, and I would have liked to maybe have shared a meal with him, but my gut review of this date is that it was all surface. There was nothing defining about it that left a mark on me, and in the end I chalk it up to a few superficial laughs at the corner pub. Not so hard to come by on the streets of NYC. Once I reach the Union Square subway, I realize I'm really hungry so I decide to go into Food Emporium before I head home to buy some sushi, and while I'm there I decide to go ahead and pick up some groceries for the week. As I'm cruising around the grocery aisles alone at 9 pm on a Friday night, it occurs to me that I used to always think that the grocery store on a Friday night was the perfect place to meet someone. Afterall, if you are buying groceries by yourself at 9 pm on a Friday night, it is like sticking a sign on your forehead that says, "I AM SINGLE." But actually the thought that is more prevalent in my mind this evening is that I don't mind it at all. There have been times in my life where I was single and in denial and trying to tell myself that I was happy, but in actuality I wasn't and I hated it and I totally wanted to be with someone. There have also been times when I have totally not wanted to be with someone but instead was heartbroken and pining for some guy I couldn't have and wasn't happy in that regard either. And what I realize in comparison is that this moment is real and genuine. I am single and I am happy, and I am really happy being single, BUT I am open, and I think that is the most important component. I am not anti-relationships or anti-boyfriend. And that's when it dawns on me. I think maybe this time more than ever before is maybe the best time for me to start thinking about heading towards relationship status. I think if you're lonely or depressed over a guy or just want to be with a guy maybe because all your friends have boyfriends or for some other unsound reasons, you may end up getting into a relationship for all the wrong reasons. However, if you're completely happy on your own, and you can't think of a single reason why dating someone special wouldn't enhance your life, then maybe that is the very perfect most opportune time to go find that right guy and give it a go.

There's a great line in "Along Came Polly." Basically Jennifer Aniston plays this free spirit who hooks up with this totally tightly wound Ben Stiller character, and when she explains herself she says, "I've been living my life, okay? I've been in good relationships, and I've been in shitty ones... and I've moved alot... and I've been happy, and I've been sad... and I've been lonely... and that is what I've been doing." When I hear that, I think, "Yeah. That's me. That's what I've been doing, too." For the past 3 years and 9 months since I finally split from my ex-boyfriend I've been figuring myself out. I've been grieving. I've been celebrating. I've been in an isolated village in Japan. I've been traveling. I've been having random adventures with friends and strangers alike in NYC. I've been confused. I've been figuring it out. More than anything I've been realizing who I am and getting back to that part that is closer to myself. And after almost four years, I think I'm almost there. Maybe I'm really close to finding the person I want to give to someone else, and when I do you can bet it's going to be every bit as satisfying as this sushi I'm about to take home and plow right into.

Tribeca Film Festival: http://www.tribecafilm.com/festival/
Food Emporium: http://www.thefoodemporium.com/

Date #39--The Attorney

2010-04-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, as I expressed prior, my second go around at speed dating was highly mundane and subpar as far as the selection was concerned. Seriously even without a pre-placed great guy in my mind, that being the Brit, I don't think I would have been too sharply impressed with any of these gents. In any event, I did get 5 matches, 3 of which contacted me, and the Attorney was the first in the bunch. He emails me the day the matches are sent out, and he asks me if I want to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art with him on Saturday. First of all, I've already been to the Met twice. Don't get me wrong. I definitely know that it's one of the most impressive museums anywhere in the world, and it's huge so you could definitely go multiple times and not see it all. However, I have to tell you that probably 50 percent of the guys who have asked me out on a date have offered to take me to the Met. That's no exaggeration especially once I suggest we should check out a museum. It's like the instant go-to place the guys come up with. MoMA is a close second, but the Met no doubt is the first thing to apparently pop into guys' minds when planning a cultural date in NYC. Truthfully I would rather go to a museum I have not yet been to. Sure I know I've covered all of the major ones, but it's New York. There are always more. In any event, I figure since I have not officially gone to the Met on a date, I might as well bite the bullet and see what this experience is all about.

It's Saturday around 4:30 pm, and I'm climbing the stairs to the Met. I have to admit, it's quite an impressive building. I remember coming here for the first time in 2002 on my second trip to NYC. I came to visit my best friend from college Michele for Thanksgiving, and we went to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was on one of the other random days I found myself wandering around the Met and sitting on the steps for quite a long while. That seems like so long ago, and yet it's amazing how a sight can bring you back to that moment in a flash. I go inside the museum, and it's packed. I feel like it's no use to search for the Attorney so I go ahead and call him. He answers. I say, "Hey, where are you?" He says, "I'm by the membership counter." I kind of look around helplessly. I say, "Is that by the ticket counter?" He says, "No, it's on the other side. Raise your hand so I can see where you are." I raise my hand and kind of turn around a couple of times realizing I'm sure I seriously look troubled. You gotta love NYC though. Nothing ever really seems out of the ordinary especially weird people. He says, "I'm just gonna make my way over to the middle near the information booth. Let's meet there." I say okay.

As I approach the circular counter I see him rounding the other side. I totally remember this guy. We had a conversation about Freud. It was because though the Attorney is now a bonafide attorney, he was a psychology major in his undergrad career, and I remember talking with him about how many of Freud's theories seem irrelevant now and how the guy was a total coke head. It was interesting enough to figure he was worth a full on date, and apparently he felt the same so here we are. We go to hug each other, and I say, "I'm sorry I'm late. Have you been waiting long?" He says, "No, I just got here not too long ago. I live just a few blocks away." Okay, so he's an Uptown guy. This should be intriguing. I ask, considering he was near the membership counter, "Are you a member?" He says, "Yes, actually I am, and I already got us our entrance pins." He hands me a purple museum tag to attach to my clothes to prove I spent the day at the Met. We check our coats, and then we start exploring the museum.

I ask the Attorney how many times he's been to the Met. He tells me he's been probably 6 times. Wow, this guy has me beat by double. I wonder if the other 5 times were on dates. Could you imagine if I had decided to do the same thing on all of these dates like 50 Met dates or 50 sushi dates or 50 coffee dates? Actually I did read an article that was in the Oprah magazine about a woman who actually went on 100 coffee dates in 6 months time. Her project was similar to mine, but she approached it differently in a couple of ways. First of all, she had a rule about not getting physical with any of them until she had reached the end, and she tended to go on multiple dates with most of the men just to make sure she wasn't discounting them too quickly. In the end, she did find love though I don't quite recall what number the guy she picked was, but I'm fairly certain he was 1 of the 100. I actually had a notion that if I didn't find just the right guy to date within this 50, I would just keep dating and maybe shoot for a 100. I had planned to stop writing about them at 50 and just start going out with a different guy every night since the summer will bring longer days and no classes, but the closer I get to the end of the project, the more clearly I am really beginning to see and embrace that rather than having 50 more random encounters in addition to this one, I would like to start building a connection that is real and meaningful.

As we start to explore the Met, I get to know the Attorney beyond our 5-7 minute speed dating round. I find out that he actually just moved to NYC from Chicago 3 months ago. He is more brand new than me, and it starts to occur to me that the longer I live here, I won't be able to play the newbie card forever. I am getting acquainted with this City. In fact, dating has been really good for learning the ins and outs of NYC. Maybe I'll be able to stand just fine on my own without the crutch of familiarizing myself through men and the things they show me. In addition, I call the Attorney that for a reason. I have dated a few other lawyer types, but the Attorney more than any of them so far represents the corporate attorney vibe. In fact, he moved to NYC for his job when he got hired by a big Manhattan midtown firm. He is one of the ones to be found working 18 hour days and aiming for the partner track. I shouldn't pigeonhole him so much though. He actually says he really dislikes his situation. He says he plans on staying at the firm for about a year and then moving onto something where he can have more of a life. Ultimately he sees himself as a possible congressman someday. That's when it comes back to me that we also had a conversation at speed dating about how he'll have to kiss a lot of random babies if he does that. I remember telling him how I once saw a picture of Hilary Clinton when she was on the campaign trail, and she looked so awkward holding a baby because she's just so not maternal. We had a good laugh about that.

Walking around the Met is fun. The copious amounts of art to be found in this one building really is amazing. The Attorney shows me his favorite section which is a display of renaissance art in one of the hallways. We also talk about his previous speed dating experiences. He says the last time he went was right after he moved to NYC in January. He met one girl, and they dated for a bit until he found out that she had tried heroine within the last couple of years. He said if it had been within the last 10 years he maybe could have gotten around it, but 2 years was a bit too recent. Keep in mind she was only 24. I don't know what's more alarming. Finding out someone did heroine only a couple of years ago when they were 22 or 10 years ago when they were 14. You be the judge. I ask him how many matches he got this time around, and he tells me that I was the only one, but he says he's really happy with the result. I start to see a bit of a red flag not because there's anything startling about this guy but just quite simply because I know it's gonna be one of those dates where the guy is putting a lot of expectation onto the outcome. It's sometimes challenging going out with guys who don't put themselves out there a lot just because they put a lot of pressure onto the one date for it to work, and if it doesn't they somehow blame themselves. You can't do that because it all boils down to chemistry. It's either there, or it's not. In a way, that's why I think I really like guys who date a lot. It makes me feel that if they actually want to date me, it's because it was their choice and not the only alternative. I think everyone wants to look into their lover's eyes and think, "Wow, you actually picked me." I know that I do.

After exploring around the Met for a good couple of hours, I am supremely hungry. The Attorney tells me he's picked an Italian restaurant that's just a couple of blocks away so we head over there. The walk over is pleasant enough, but I'm really starting to notice that the Attorney is really nerdy. He's definitely very smart, and he's a nice guy, but I am not feeling a spark at all at this point. We make it to the restaurant which is called Caffe Grazie. It's super duper cute. It is painted a bright sunflower yellow. When we go inside, we are seated on the second level upstairs. I look at the menu, and I am in pseudo Italian heaven. I scan the whole thing, but I almost immediately decide on the gnocchi pomodoro. Gnocchi has to be a close second favorite for me behind risotto when it comes to Italian joints. The Attorney orders the chicken parmigiana. As we're sitting and waiting for the food, the Attorney pops out with, "So where do you see yourself in 10 years?" I seriously almost do a spit take from my water glass, but I'm able to contain it, and I laughingly say, "What is this, a job interview?" We both laugh, but I go on seriously, "Well, in 10 years, I'd like to maybe have my own therapy practice and maybe have a book published." He interjects, "Like Dr. Phil?" Not wanting to let onto him that I am thinking about my blog I say, "Umm....maybe. I don't know yet." I continue, "And I'd like to be married and maybe have a couple of kids at that point. What about you?" He responds, "I don't see myself being in the corporate world at that point. Yeah, I'd like to be married with a couple of kids. Maybe living in the suburbs." I think about it for a moment and kind of let it drop. I don't really wanna be talking about a house in the suburbs with this guy.

Once the food comes, it is extraordinary. The gnocchi really hits the spot, so flavorful and warm. As we're eating, we talk about foods that we like, and I tell the Attorney that I love seafood. It's my absolute favorite. He replies that he doesn't eat any fish except for canned tuna. You'll have to hear some background info first if you are to realize why this is significant. The Brit has 3 foods that he absolutely does not eat and can't stand--peanut butter, bananas, and canned tuna (weird, I know, but quirky). Anyways, when the Attorney states the exact opposite that he only eats tuna in a can, I bust out laughing. I can see he's pleased and thinks it's something charming in the way he said it, and I just play it off like he's right. After the main course, we order a chocolate molten cake that is decadently divine and oh so delicioso. I have to say that like on some of my prior dates, the food was the best part of the whole situation so far.

Once we leave the restaurant, we're kind of walking down the street, and I say, "So what now?" The Attorney says, "Well, I didn't really have anything planned. How about a movie?" I say, "Sure. What's playing?" He says, "My parents just watched 'Date Night,' and they said it was good. How about that?" I kind of reluctantly agree. Truthfully I'm not really feeling it. However, we're near the theater so what the heck. Once we get there we realize that the movie doesn't start for a couple of hours so we scan the board, and I say, "Oh, 'Hot Tub Time Machine' is playing. Let's see that." This movie is the one where 3 middle aged guys travel back to the 1980s in a hot tub time machine. It looks uber cheesy, but at the same time it has John Cusack so there must be something redeeming about it. The Attorney agrees, and we decide to see it. There's a bit of a wait to go in, and while we're waiting I notice the poster for the Sex and the City 2 movie. I point it out to the Attorney and tell him I'm really excited to see it. I ask him who his favorite character is, and before he even answers I know who he will say--Charlotte. Sure enough he says, "I forget their names but the brown haired one..." I say, "That's Charlotte. I knew you were gonna pick her. Every guy picks Charlotte." And it's true. This conversation has probably come up on 50 percent of my dates as well, and inevitably every guy seems to want to marry Charlotte. I guess it makes sense since she was the most traditional and definitely the one character who was desperate to get married. When I explain this, the Attorney replies, "Well, she was the best looking, and I actually think she was just desperate to have a baby more than actually get married. But yeah, Miranda is too cynical, and Samantha is a red flag, and Carrie is just an idiot."

OMG, the Attorney just called one of my favorite characters of all time an idiot. Who is this guy? He continues, "She was. She was always chasing after Big who could never commit to her and treated her like crap, and she just couldn't stop liking the guy." Well, when you put it that way, I guess there is some merit to his argument. It's so weird. When I lived in LA, I used to go to a Sunday night TV viewing night with a bunch of friends, and we would always watch Sex and the City. Everyone including my ex-boyfriend used to always say I was Charlotte. And I would always say, "Yeah, I know. The thing is I'm Charlotte. I wanna be Carrie, but I know I'm always gonna be Charlotte." This was quite simply because even though I fancied myself a writer even in LA, and that's what most appealed to me about Carrie Bradshaw's life, back then I went through a phase where I was very marriage minded, and I just totally wanted to get married and have cute little babies with my ex-boyfriend. I had serious moments where I considered just being a housewife. And when that ended I just realized that I had to start at the base level figuring out who I really am and who I want to be in life. That being said, I evolved a lot while living in Japan for a couple of years and traveling ravenously and even in this past year by just exposing myself to the NYC dating world I think I have come into my own a great deal. And that's when I start wondering, am I closer to Carrie than Charlotte these days? I definitely think I'm somewhere in between. I think about the two prominent men in Carrie's life. There is Big, and then there is Aidan. For many viewers, Aidan was always the logical choice. He adored Carrie. He proposed to her--twice. He loved her unconditionally, and he was just really, really cool, but for whatever reasons she could never fully commit. The primary reason is because Big was always there to pop around the corner just when she was really getting serious with Aidan. If you've been reading my blog, you know that the Cuban is totally the Big character in my life just because he embodies that bigger than life persona. He's suave, sexy, successful, and oh so unattainable. For a while now, I had been wondering if there would be an Aidan character to come into my life, and I have to say that the Brit is pretty darn close. He's kind, compassionate, sensual, and sweet all at once, and call me presumptuous, but I feel like he's the kind of guy who would never ever break my heart. And that's when it occurs to me once and for all that I'm never gonna be Carrie Bradshaw nor should I aspire to that. I'm my own person, but in this context I think a guy like Aidan suits me better. Getting the guy that will actually love me back forever is what is more important to me in the long run than getting the guy that I could never have and honestly at this point I'm not even sure I would even want anymore.

In any event, where does that leave the Attorney? I guess you could say kind of out in the cold. If this were Sex and the City, he'd definitely only make one episode, and he probably wouldn't get Charlotte or Carrie. I see them sticking him more in a Miranda storyline of some sort. We eventually go in and watch "Hot Tub Time Machine." It is over the top cheesy, but I kinda sorta feel like it's trying to be, and that makes it funny, and call me sentimental, but I can't help but swoon when I see John Cusack. He is absolutely endearing even as a middle aged man in this mediocre flick. I don't care. Lloyd Dobbler, I will love you forever. Once the movie's over, the Attorney tells me that I picked the right movie. I'm happy he liked it. At least we had a fun night. He walks me to the subway entrance, and the goodbye is all very standard much like the date itself. Actually a really interesting thing happens once I reach the platform at the bottom.

I come barreling down the stairs, and I look down the tunnel to see if the train is coming, and when I look to my right I see a guy. We make eye contact, and he says hi, and I say hi back. I ask, "How long have you been waiting?" He says, "Not that long." I say, "The train is slow on the weekends." He says, "It's always slow." I lean against the pillar thinking that will be the end, but he continues the chat. He says, "So were you up to anything fun tonight?" I say, "Yeah, I had a great day. I went to the Met, and then I ate at this Italian restaurant called Caffe Grazie, and I just went to the movies. What about you?" He says he just came from the movies as well, and we discern that we were probably at the same theater. We make more small talk, and it turns out the Train Guy just moved here from Oregon. He has a government job, and he lives in Brooklyn. Eventually the train comes, and I take a seat, and the Train Guy sits right next to me. We continue talking on the ride. I should mention that this guy is good looking. I would totally go on a date with him. And he seems nice. As we're talking I ask him if he's done any of the things in Brooklyn that I have done such as the Brooklyn Brewery, Brooklyn Promenade, BarCade, Botanic Garden, Prospect Park, etc. I think he's maybe been to the park, but that's it. He says, "Wow, you seem to know a lot about Brooklyn. I'm impressed. Most people who live in Manhattan don't seem as knowledgeable." I say, "Oh, Brooklyn has a lot of nice things. What part do you live in?" He says. "Park Slope." That's so weird. Thoughts of the Brit keep coming up on this date, and obviously I think of him when I find out this guy lives in the same neighborhood. I can't help myself, and I ask, "Have you ever been to the Chip Shop? It's like this restaurant that is totally over the top England." He thinks and says, "No, I haven't been there, but I've seen it. There's another restaurant right next door that I've been to."

And then it comes out. The Train Guy says, "Actually I don't love New York. It's okay for right now, but it's too fast and too dirty. I prefer someplace with more nature like Oregon." Not to make this all about Sex and the City this time, but I do distinctly recall an episode where Carrie meets a sailor during fleet week, and they are having a great time until the Sailor comes out with the disclosure that New York is just not for him. Carrie immediately loses interest and says she just can't be with a guy who would talk trash about the city she is in love with, and in this moment I feel a weirdly odd connection to her sentiment. I am not Carrie, but I love NYC so much, and I just don't think I could date a guy who was ambivalent about it. I want to be with someone who loves it as much as me and sees all its glory in the sparkle of the streetlights. The thing is that I probably would have suggested that we exchange numbers and hang out sometime, but after this bit of information I just kind of lose interest, and when I reach my stop I say, "This is me. Have a good night." He wishes me the same, and as I emerge above ground to the smell of trash and the sound of a crazy guy yelling to himself, I smile as I think, "This is my kind of town."

Metropolitan Museum of Art: http://www.metmuseum.org/
Caffe Grazie: http://www.caffegrazie.com/index2.htm

A Sorta Fairytale

2010-04-18T04:09:00.000-07:00

As you'll recall, I went Speed Dating six months ago, and I absolutely loved it. In fact, it was one of the turning points in my whole NYC experience so far. It was the first time that I felt a connection of any sort when I spent the evening pursuing and getting Mr. Handsome, and even though ultimately I knew he wasn't the guy for me, my 5 minute interaction with the Cuban did spawn a much lengthier interaction, one that made me feel alive again, one that made me see the things I want and the things I don't want. However, as I approach the Delancey Rooftop Bar once more, my feeling is different this time. I'm not as enthused to be going mainly because I said goodbye to the Brit just a coupla hours ago, and he is on my mind. I am thinking about the great weekend we just shared, and I am considering his impending restlessness with this whole situation and with me. It's Sunday around 6:30 pm, and I call Paola when I get above ground. She is waiting somewhere on the street for me. She tells me she's by the Dunkin Donuts. I keep walking until I see her, and we hug. I say, "Hey, are you excited to go Speed Dating?" She says, "Yeah. I'm actually gonna put some names down this time. How about you?" I say, "Yeah, I'm excited, but I'm thinking about giving up my blog." She says, "What? Really? Have you met someone?" I say, "Yeah, I've been dating this British guy, and he's great. I'm not sure if I should finish my blog or not." She's really excited to hear about the Brit.

We continue on until we get to the Delancey, and once we get there we're directed upstairs just like last time. This all seems very familiar, and then when we reach the rooftop bar, it's like deja vu. I'm transported back six months ago in an instant. The setting is all the same, but I am completely different. I won't be able to speed date in quite the same way because I am changed from back in October. I was so open then and so free and so ready to make a connection. Tonight I am only second guessing my decision to take a break from the Brit. As Paola and I are standing in line, a lady approaches us and says she's with CBS news and is doing a story about break-up etiquette and asks us if we want to be interviewed. I say, "Sure, I'll do it." I follow her over to a corner near the balcony, and the camera man attaches a microphone to my dress. She tells me to look at her and not the camera and says she's just going to ask me some questions. She says, "So do you have any funny break-up stories?" I think for a moment, and I can't recall any hilarious ones off the top of my head, and she continues, "Or maybe some really heartbreaking ones or just any that stick out in your head." Hmm...all of my break-ups have been really sad, and I haven't had one in quite some time so I just think about what happened with the Cuban, and I say, "Well, with the last guy I was dating, apparently we just stopped dating, and I didn't even realize it. He was really enthusiastic one minute, and then he just stopped calling, and I never really knew what happened." This leads into her question of is there a right and a wrong way to break up with someone. I say, "I think the right way is to just be honest with the person, and say hey I have a problem with this specific thing, and I think the wrong way is to just do the phasing out thing and not say anything." The interviewer asks me what my longest relationship was. I say 7 years. She says, "Wow, mine was 9 years. I've got you beat." I say, "That's a long time. You should get out there and go speed dating. It's really fun." She says, "Really? It looks fun." I say, "Yeah, my feeling is that a lot of girls don't really put themselves out there enough, and if they have a couple of bads dates they're quick to say that there are no good men out there, but I disagree. I think dating is a number's game, and if you just do it enough eventually you'll find your prince charming." The interviewer and the camera guy both kind of crack up at that last bit, and I do realize I'm being way too goofy to make the final cut probably. Finally the interviewer says they're going to be interviewing some experts on the subject and asks me if I have a question I want to field to them about break up etiquette. I say, "I'm wondering if when you know something is not working out if it's better just to end it and go your separate but friendly ways or if it's better to discuss everything because I sometimes feel that when you talk about everything you can sometimes convince yourselves that something is right and that you can get through it even when it's wrong?" After that, it's a wrap, and I feel happy just because I'm realizing how comfortable I'm starting to feel on camera. It's a good exercise in self exposure.

Afterwards, I go over and sit with Paola. We talk as we're waiting for Dawn. Eventually she arrives, and I tell her all about the interview. Shortly thereafter, we start being instructed to sit against the wall if we're a girl. This time I end up sitting right next to Dawn. Last time, I was sitting next to a stranger, and I kind of liked the fact that there was no interaction with anyone other than the guys, but it doesn't really matter since I haven't seen anyone that has caught my eye so far. Once the bell rings, we get started, and the first guy I get is very New York. He's got the accent and the attitude, and he's really boring. I think we talk about work or something related to his life, and it's just very standard. Unlike last time, the bell is not ringing super fast, and instead it seems like we have a full on five minutes, and let me tell you, it drags. When the bell finally rings, the next guy comes and then the next one. The host of this event is really lame. He's walking around between rounds mingling, and honestly I think he's giving us way longer than 5 minutes a piece. Some of these conversations seem like at least 7 or 8 minutes and not in a good way. I have surface conversation one after the other with each guy, and none of them are jumping out at me. There are no keepers in the bunch. There are a few here and there who have a little bit of a sparkle but definitely not a spark. There's an Australian guy who catches my attention quite simply because I like his accent. He says, "So your roommate tells me you're a professional dater." I say, "What?" and I look at Dawn. I then go onto explain that I do like dating, but I'm not a professional by any means. Once the round is over I say to Dawn, "Stop telling people I'm a professional dater. You're gonna kill my game." Oh man, I gotta get out of this game sooner than later.

The guys keep coming, and there's a guy from Italy and a guy from Spain who both catch my attention. It's then that I realize that I definitely dig the foreign guys or the ones who have a little something different to offer. I don't really see myself marrying an American at this point. I mean sure, anything is possible, but at this phase in my life I'm so fascinated by that which is different to me. I think that naturally happens the longer you date and the longer you hold out to find someone. If I think about it, had I married someone when I was 23, he most definitely would have been an all American guy, and it's not that there would have been anything wrong with him if he were the guy I was meant to marry, but because that didn't happen, and I myself have continued to evolve, I think someone who's a little more off the beaten track is what fits my current personality. I don't know if it's because the rounds are at least a couple of minutes too long or because the guys are a little too standard, but I find myself feeling extremely wiped out about 3/4 of the way through, and I'm just ready for it to be over. I keep looking around to see if we're almost to the end of the guys. Finally, finally the last one comes around, and I realize there was no the Cuban in the bunch, and I start to acknowledge that maybe that really was a moment in time, and our little interaction was not something you share everyday, and we really did have chemistry. I sort of smile at realizing this place holds too many memories of my interaction with him, but at the same time what is surprisingly more prevalent on my mind is the Brit and how definitely none of these guys even came close to him in looks or personality. He is the one I want to be with tonight, not this room full of potentially surface interactions, and so something rises up in me, and I go downstairs, and I text him, "Hi the Brit (insert real name). I've done some thinking, and I don't need the 10 days. Let's get together and talk."

This is totally my impulsivity and my disinterest in this speed dating event rising up. I'm wondering what he will say, and he writes back almost instantaneously, "Tonight?" I write back, "Yes, I'm on the LES at 168 Delancey St., but I can meet you wherever." He writes back that he's finishing up with a friend, but he'll be here in about half an hour. I am giddy with anticipation. In the meanwhile, I go back up to the rooftop. I get intercepted by one of the guys I definitely was not interested in, and he asks me if he can buy me a drink. I say, "Oh, I already have a drink. I'm just sitting over there with my friends, but you can join us if you want." I go back and sit down next to Paola and Dawn and a few random speed dating guys that are still lingering around. None of them are appealing to me including the new guy who comes and joins us. I put my phone on the table so I will notice when the Brit calls, and I try to participate in this conversation, but it only reminds me more and more how dull this guy is. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure he's perfect for someone, and if I were on a full scale date with him, I would be giving it more effort, but as I'm sitting here all I can think about is the Brit and how maybe I'm ready to give all of this up. Maybe I've found a great guy, and maybe I'm ready to give up the searching. Afterall, isn't that what you do once you've found someone you connect with and can build something with? After about half an hour, I see my phone light up because the Brit is calling me, and immediately I jump up while the poor guy is probably in mid sentence, and I say, "I'm sorry. I have a call." I excuse myself to the hallway, and I say, "Hello." It's the Brit. I am so happy to hear his voice, with or without the accent but obviously with the accent because that's who he is. I tell him where I'm at, and I ask him if he wants to come meet me. I tell him this bar is pretty quiet downstairs. He says, "Okay, but I have one question. Are you drunk?" I laugh, and I say, "No, not at all." I think it's understandable. He tells me he'll be there shortly.

I go back upstairs, and I wait, and I'm super excited to see the Brit. He blows the other guys out of the water. He's the one I want to be with. Granted, I haven't thought every option all the way through, but I'm impetuous, and when something pops into my head I just do it, and this feels right, and I don't want to go home disappointed with speed dating and comparing it to the high I had the last time I did it. I want to end the night with the Brit feeling high from just being with him. When I see his text pop through, I can't read it fast enough. It reads simply, "I'm downstairs." I say to Dawn who is sitting across from me, "He's here. I'm gonna go meet him." I bound down the stairs, and when I reach the bottom, I don't see him anywhere. I scan the bar area. I look at the band playing. I look to my right, turn away and then do a double take, and there he is. He's emerging from the corner, and he is the only one I see. It's like I have blinders on. He's the only one I can imagine being with right here and now. He's the only one I am thinking of. I smile really hugely and wave and rush over to meet him, and we immediately kiss passionately and rawly and so like straight out of a movie.

Once we disconnect, he says, "I was really happy to hear from you tonight." I say, "I have a story for you. I think you're gonna like it." We get some drinks, and we find a quiet place in the corner. I start in, and I just say, "Ok, so tonight I went speed dating." He says, "You didn't tell me that's where you were coming." I say, "I know. I wasn't sure how you would react." He just kind of nods, and he says, "It doesn't matter." I say, "So I met like 30 guys tonight, and with each passing one, I just kept thinking how I didn't want to be here meeting these random guys. None of them were very interesting, and I was just kind of thinking to myself 'what am I doing' and that's when I thought I don't need to finish my blog. I don't need to meet the other 12 guys." The Brit looks overwhelmingly thrilled. I can tell that this is what he's been wanting to hear all along. I have made him so happy, and I feel happy right here at the Delancey Bar where many a connection has been made in my life. The Brit makes me so happy, and seeing him happy is what really does it for me. I was really becoming stressed out at seeing how stressed out he was over this situation, and I think I have decided to do what I know will make things better between us. After awhile I say, "Let's get outta here," and we end up walking off into the Manhattan night.

That's where the story should end, right? That is the perfect fairytale ending with a kiss from the prince and all. But...this is real life, and real life always has its movie moments, at least mine does. What I realize all too often though is that life is not a movie, and even in movies you don't always see what happens to the characters the next day. Don't get me wrong. The next couple of days are great. I'm feeling really good and on board with my decision. I'm attempting to interact with the Brit a bit more like I would if I were in a relationship. I'm checking in with him more via text. It's on Tuesday that little doubts start to creep into my mind, not about the Brit, not about him at all but just within myself and what it is I really want. I'm starting to think about how more recently than not I acknowledged that I wasn't quite ready to be in a fully committed relationship with anyone. I don't think I'm done exploring myself here in NYC. Granted I think people can move away from such grandiose statements all the time if they meet someone they want to take a shot at love with, but am I there yet? I decide to kind of express a bit of my concern to the Brit that night on the phone, and he talks me through it. He washes away my doubt. I love talking to him. It has become more fun than I originally ever thought it could be.

When I am with the Brit I think of this obscure movie called "Double Happiness" that I once saw back in the 1990s starring a then unknown Sandra Oh of Grey's Anatomy fame as a Canadian born Chinese woman who falls in love with a white guy against her family's wishes. I just remember this one scene in the movie where they're at a park goofing around on the swings, and then they're walking with ice cream cones, and I remember thinking in my 18 year old mind that I wanted to find a guy to be with who was just like the guy in that movie, and now 14 years later, I think I've found him. The Brit is totally that guy, childlike and manly all at once--so ready to push me on the swings and buy me an ice cream cone. Whenever I am talking to him or am with him, there are no doubts in my mind whatsoever. I could be with this guy. I could do this. I want to do this. But in the moments away from him, I think about my blog and how I love dating. I'll be real. Dating has become like a hobby for me here in NYC. Whereas most people see it as a means to an end to meet a great guy like the Brit, I have come to see it as a way to get to know myself better and to really be independent. It's contradictory really. I can admit this, but it's not like I ever went into this thing claiming to be normal. I'm just trying to be me.

And so I guess the real question in all of this and after all this time, is who am I really? Am I an out there NYC gal who loves the nightlife and loves men? No, I wouldn't say that was me to a tee at all. Am I someone's wife or girlfriend to be? I do want those things, but I think I see myself as somewhere more in between at this moment in time but slowly moving to the latter. So these back and forth thoughts continue for a couple of days. Finally on Thursday, one week from the day the Brit told me exactly how he was feeling, I meet up with the Brit for a short bit on my break from work. I don't want to let on to him at first, but something doesn't feel right. I remember a week ago, he told me he woke up with this weird feeling in his stomach, and that's when he knew he had to come clean with everything. Well, this Thursday morning I woke up with the same thing. It's weird that thing, but it's definitely real and it's definitely in your stomach, and you definitely feel it until you come clean with how you're feeling. So as we're leaning against a brick wall somewhere in Mid-Town I express this to the Brit, and I can tell he's getting frustrated with the back and forth and especially because Sunday was so magical. Everytime I express doubts, it's like I take away from that perfect movie moment, and I can sense that he wants me to just go one way or the other. He wants me to either be with him and be completely free and happy or to do the brave thing and pull the band-aid off and say this is just not for me. I feel incapable of doing either. He just looks at me and says, "You're confused. You're confused about what you want." I can't argue with him. I am. He says, "I've gotta go," and he turns to leave, and I head back to work.

I decide I must write a letter. I must let him make the decision because I am incapable. I hate to do it over email because it's so ephemeral, and I'm such an in person kind of person, but what I've come to see is that in person exchanges can be confusing because at least with the Brit and me we never seem to be able to come to any real and valid conclusions. In the letter I basically express that up until last Thursday I thought we had been having a great time getting to know each other, and I take full accountability in acknowledging that I'm the one responsible for bringing up big picture issues, but at the same time that's just who I am and part of my nature. I sincerely tell him that I like him A LOT, and when we talk none of that has been fake, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about my blog and finishing it, and I have to think about what is right for me, and something tells me that if it were absolutely right with him, I wouldn't feel a void at not finishing my blog. Instead that void would be filled with thoughts of building something with him instead. And it's not that I don't want to. I do see a place for us somewhere in all of this. It's just that right now timing is weird, and like I learned a long time ago, timing is everything in matters of the heart.

Basically I say that I got scared that I was going to lose him so I did what I thought was absolutely right and healthy for him, but in trying not to lose him, I feel like I'm losing part of myself which is my passion for writing and exploring and having an end for my blog. Am I a first class idiot? Am I crazy? It's okay. You can tell me if I am drawing a completely dumbo conclusion right here and now, but I can't help what I feel. I feel like the Mary Stuart Masterson character in "Bed of Roses." Has everyone seen this? Okay, girls, don't lie. This is the ultimate chick flick, and any female who was coherent circa 1996 totally saw this movie and fell in love with the Christian Slater character. He was Perfect with a capital p. He was just the most awesome guy, no intrinsic flaws. His only desire was to give love and to receive it back, and he romances Mary Stuart Masterson in the most cliche ways, but it was enough to make my little 18 year old mind have serious delusional fantasies about one day meeting Christian Slater and marrying him based upon this one character and well the one in Untamed Heart as well, but that's a different story. But in this movie, he picks the wrong girl. She's emotionally closed off. She gets scared because he's so perfect. She feels like she doesn't have her full heart to give, and she flees. He takes her to meet his family at Christmas, and he proposes in front of everyone, and she freaks out, and she flees. I am Mary Stuart Masterson. Thank goodness, it wasn't that dramatically public, but the Brit is totally Christian Slater. He's totally that guy who would adore me forever, who puts me on a pedastool, who really makes me want to be in love again for only the second time in my life. He's so gentle but in the very best way. I want to be with him in so many ways. I do. But something is keeping me from going there.

I finish off the email by saying I have come up with 3 options that might work. I say I tried to do his perfect option, but it just wasn't right for me so I suggest:

1. I could scale my dating back to once per week, and that way I would still have plenty of time to spend with him, and I would only be writing about one entry per week. I suppose this is the most explicit version of having my cake and eating it, too. But it would prolong us from ever getting into a relationship if that's where this is going.
2. I could take the next month and plow through the last 12 dates and then be done, but that would probably mean we wouldn't see each other for about a month. Maybe this is the best compromise because it would allow us both some time apart to think and for me to discover what he means to me and for him to really discover what I mean to him.
3. We go our separate but friendly ways. This is by far my least favorite of the 3 options, but since I went the opposite extreme when I was thinking of giving up my blog, I thought it was only fair to him to give the exact opposite extreme.

I end the letter by saying I hope he will pick either 1 or 2, but if he picks 3 I can't really say anything to change his mind. I also say that I wish I could convince him that if he picks 2 I would miss him sorely, and I wouldn't form a connection with any of the other 12 guys, but I have a feeling that even if I told him he wouldn't believe me at this point. That night he sends me a text telling me he received my email and that he doesn't have an answer so he's going to really think about it, and I probably won't hear from him in a while, but in the mean time I should just do what I need to do. And with that we decide to cease contact for a while. I feel like a dirty tease, but I would rather not be with him and have the interactions I have had with him up until this point feel pure rather than continue on in uncertainty and constantly feel doubt when I am with him. I don't know why I feel so loyal to my blog, but I just know that it's something I want to finish. I want to come out of it and know that I really want to be with the Brit and no one else. Granted I don't know if he will feel the same after a month's time. That's the risk in all of this. He may change his mind, or he may just not be able to get past the resentment of me choosing my blog over him.

That's when it occurs to me. I remember in our sing along casually singing "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order. I jokingly said based upon the lyrics that that was our theme song. But now in this moment, I see that it totally is. Take a look:

Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It's no problem of mine
But it's a problem I find
Living a life that I can't leave behind
But there's no sense in telling me
The wisdom of the fool won't set you free
But that's the way that it goes
And it's what nobody knows
well every day my confusion grows

That's when it occcurs to me. This is a bizarre love triangle between me, the Brit, and my blog. It always has been with any guy. Any guy that has attempted to get close to me in this process has been in direct competition with my blog. The Cuban was. The random 3 or 4 guys who I thought might be worth dating after him were. And now the Brit is. This blog has taken on a life of its own. I guess only time will tell if it will have a sorta fairytale kind of ending. I miss the Brit, but I want to be with him when the blog isn't in the picture when I'm really with him off the record and without the cute story. Well, I know it would still be a very cute story, but a cute story between just me and him.

The Wall

2010-04-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

Is everyone familiar with the wall in marathon terminology? Apparently there is a thing called the wall that people generally hit when they are running a marathon. A marathon is 26.2 miles, and on average runners usually hit the wall around mile 20, give or take a couple of miles depending on the individual. Basically, this is the point at which the runner is so close to the finish line, essentially only 6 more miles which is small in comparison to the 20 miles they have just completed. However, at this point your body starts to break down, your coordination slows, and you just start to feel like maybe you won't be able to finish the race. What usually gets people through and past the wall to the finish line is the emotional acknowledgement that you've come too far to go back or quit now. If you just hang in there, you will accomplish your goal and finish something you were really passionate about. Something that had genuine flashes of merit throughout the process and definite moments of sheer torture. Well, for all intents and purposes I have to say that this blog has been like a marathon in dating of sorts. Back at the beginning of October I set out on this personal goal to go out on 50 first dates with 50 different men all in the hopes of learning the inside secrets of dating, what it was all about especially in a diverse place such as NYC, and ultimately hopefully maybe come out of it with a guy I thought was worth keeping around and maybe even falling in love with. There were no guarantees when I started and truth be told very little expectation. I just wanted to have fun and expose myself and in turn have a self taught education in the intermingling of men and women. It was a social experiment if you will, an anthropological study on the rules on dating in NYC. I have learned so much, but I think the obvious thing that I really didn't give enough thought to beforehand is that this experiment would involve real people all along the journey, including myself. With that, feelings would surface, emotions would be involved, the possibility of love might pop up once or even twice before the project was over. You're gonna think I'm such a nerd, which I am, but completely unpremeditately it seems I have hit the wall of my project. I even sat down and did the math. If you rely on good old fashioned algebra and put mile 20 over 26 in a marathon as compared with X over 50 first dates, you will find that the equivalent of the wall in my journey is probably meant to happen right around date number 38 give or take a couple depending on the individual. In that case, the individual would be me, and how many dates do you reckon I have been on? Yep, lucky number 38. I have 12 men left to meet and 12 dates left to write about. The number seems so small when I think about the 38 I have already been on, but now there is a guy who is making me re-evaluate this situation and question whether I should finish or not.

That guy is the Brit. He has been pursuing me aggressively for about the past five weeks. It's been awesome. I'm not used to a cute, charming, stable, funny, and even British guy to boot being so into me and so not all about the games and actually really honest with his emotions. Honestly there have been a lot of times throughout this courtship with him where I have felt more like the guy--the aloof one, the one that's hard to read, the one dating numerous other people while carrying on with him. I'm usually on the other side so it's been interesting to get all of this attention from someone I really like in return. It's the Friday after our talk on the waterfront, and the Brit has invited me to accompany him to a friend's birthday party in Brooklyn. I was all for going, but truthfully we had a bit too much fun at the pub the night before, and I am ready to just call it a day after work. I hate to back out at the last minute, but I text the Brit and ask him if it'll be okay if I just sit this one out, and instead we'll hang out the next day and go to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I'm expecting him to be a bit peeved, but instead he responds back understanding that I need to rest and tells me to just take it easy. This is what I really like about the Brit. He's so easy going. I'm relieved not be going out tonight. I need a night that is just all about me. I feel like I've been spreading myself thin, and I really want to think about the Brit's letter and come up with a proper response for him.

The next day I go to Brooklyn, and I meet up with the Brit. When I see him, his demeanor is different. He seems closed off and distant. There's no kiss, and he has his hands in his pockets so as to avoid having to hold mine. It's pretty obvious that he's trying to make a point. Not that it's predictable, but I think guys are really obvious. When they want you to know they're put off about something, the first thing they will remove is the affection. It's a very in your face way of saying, hey ask me if I'm okay. So we get about halfway up the street to the Botanic Garden, and I say, "Are you okay?" And the Brit immediately answers, "No. No, I'm not." I say, "What's wrong?" I ask him if he wants to talk instead of going to the garden. He suggests that we can talk once we get inside the garden. I say okay. We're standing on the street corner waiting for the crosswalk to change, and he grabs my hand and he says, "I find it very hard to stay mad at you for very long." I think this is a good thing, and I'm not really clueless as to what is bothering the Brit. It's the uncertainty of all of this. It's wearing down on him. I can see it. I'm the cause of this, and I don't like feeling this way.

Things are pleasant enough as we make our way into the garden. It's so beautiful once we get inside. The thing I am most excited to see is the Japanese cherry blossoms. They are totally in bloom. When we see them, I explain to the Brit that in Japan the blossoms are a huge deal. There's a good two week period in there where people go to parks and sit under the cherry blossoms and eat and drink and celebrate these flowers. The blossoms represent the transient nature of life because they are so beautiful, but they only last for such a short time so they must be enjoyed and cherished until they blow away never to be seen again. It's quite poetic really. Eventually we find a nice spot on the lawn to lay down on. I know this moment with the Brit is transient, but I don't know if our interaction is. That is yet to be determined. Finally I say that I've prepared a list of responses to his letter, but they're only bullet points so I'll just talk about them rather than reading them. He sits up to listen. The only thing I've been able to come up with is that I like him and I don't want to stop seeing him, I don't want to give up my blog, I need to get better with time management. Okay, I admit that this doesn't really take us far away from the lack of direction we had a couple of days ago.

The Brit seems dissatisfied. I'm getting the feeling that the only thing that would make him truly happy in this moment is if I were to flat out say, "I will give up my blog for you." But that's not what I want. However, I feel him breaking me down. I know that most people could be persuaded of anything if they're constantly being exposed to the opposite argument, and that's the thing. I haven't taken any time for myself to really think about what is important. I just keep hanging out with the Brit and being persuaded that this is the only way to go. We lay back down. I'm laying on my stomach, and the Brit says, "What will you gain by going on the last 12 dates?" I can't answer this question because they haven't happened yet. I don't honestly know. I just know that I want to for some reason. Maybe I am addicted to dating. If that's the case, who's to say that I'll be able to stop at 50. It's only an arbitrary number, right? But if that's the case, I should be able to easily stop at 38 as well, right? I don't know. I'm confused in this moment, and I just bury my head in my arms. I can't think what will make this right, what will please both of us.

Eventually we cuddle, and we don't come to any conclusions, and we carry on as we have been for the past 5 weeks, in a sort of limbo if you will. We finish walking around the garden until they close at 6 pm. On the way back to the Brit's place, Prospect Park is nearby so we stroll through. I have never been there, but it's amazing. It's huge just like Central Park, and it's a perfect day for strolling through the park. I feel constantly like I'm in a romantic movie with the Brit. He is gentlemanly and chivalrous and fun and silly all at once. We see a carousel, and we both get really excited about riding it, but it turns out that it's been rented out for a private party. Just as well. We probably would have been the only ones over the age of 8 riding on it. It's funny because as we're walking through the park, we smell people smoking pot on a couple of different occasions. I jokingly say, "Okay, and you wonder why I have this stereotype that everyone in Brooklyn smokes pot. Maybe it's because we've smelled it like a couple of different times here at the park in Brooklyn." After the park, we walk back to Park Slope past these really nice brownstones. This is a great area of Brooklyn. I could see myself living here someday. I ask the Brit if he would ever live in a pink house. He says, "Sure why not?" OMG, I've actually found a guy that would agree to this at least in passing. This is my kind of guy.

We are both hungry at this point, and the Brit takes me to the Chip Shop in Park Slope. This I absolutely love. It's a restaurant that is made up of all things England. It's so over the top, and I love the fact that I've been brought here by a real live British guy. Once we get seated, I decide to go for the haggis. I know it's Scottish, but come on. I've never had it before so I have to try good old sheep's intestines. When I try it, it is surprisingly tasty. I like it. The dessert is good as well. We get a fried Mars bar. I am having so much fun on this Saturday night on one of the numerous dates I've now shared with the Brit. And that's when it occurs to me that I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else except him right here in this moment. Sharing this with a guy that I'm actually really deeply into is far more fulfilling than being here on a first date with a guy who was just an okay time and who I didn't really feel a spark with. Of course, I would still have fun. I always do, but there is something to be said about and something I feel that is really special that is developing between the Brit and me. It's like magic!!

After dinner, we return to the Brit's place, and he pulls out his guitar, and we start having a sing along. We sing all the acoustic guitar classics like Stay by Lisa Loeb, American Pie, Wild World, To Be With You by Mr. Big, etc. The list goes on, and I find myself really loving these moments of simplicity in song. That night as we're laying together preparing to fall asleep I say, "My ex-boyfriend was a pianist, and we used to always have sing alongs. That's how I fell in love with him. You better be careful." And I know in my heart of hearts that if this continues, it wouldn't take long for me to fall in love with the Brit. He has so much of what I'm looking for, and he tells me he likes my voice when I sing--that it's very pure and American, and he always smells really good.

The next day, the Brit has initiated going to church together again. This is two weeks in a row, and this week is all his doing. One of his co-workers sings in the Brooklyn Tabernacle choir so he asks me if I want to go. I've been a couple of times before, and the choir is amazing. I'm totally up for going again with the Brit. Per usual, we're running late, and we grab some bagels to eat before hopping in a cab. We sit, and we eat the bagels on a stoop on the street corner. Again a very NYC moment, and that's when I realize something important. He's the guy. I tell him about how shortly before I met him, I had this image or idea in my head of the guy I hadn't met yet, and I envisioned him sitting on a stoop somewhere people watching and eating a falafel. That description fits the Brit to a tee because that's surely something he could be found doing and something I have found myself doing a derivation of with him on several occasions. When I am with the Brit I always feel like anything is possible because he's not closed off, and he's not one to put limits on anything or hold back from trying anything. In a word, I think I have met my match. And it's scary because I somehow am starting to feel that if I don't give up this huge part of myself, my blog, I may end up losing him. That's something as I'm sitting in my Sunday best eating this sundried tomato bagel on a corner in Brooklyn that I don't want to do.

We hop in the cab, and we make it to the Tabernacle. The main sanctuary is full so we end up having to go to this satellite room across the street. We see the Brit's co-worker on the big screen TV, and at the end of the service I bow my head to pray. Afterwards, the Brit tells me that when I was praying it was so cute. For a moment, I'm thinking, "What?" But then it dawns on me, the Brit really fancies me because when that is the case you love everything about someone. You love the way they talk and move and interact. Everything about them is special because it is a part of who they are. So far the only thing that has caused tension between the Brit and me is this whole blog situation. And spending time with the Brit is bringing me full force into the wall. When I first started my blog, 12 dates would have seemed like nothing because I was not invested in anything else, but now 12 dates symbolizes time away from the Brit and time connecting with other men. After church, the Brit takes me for ice cream at Uncle Luigi's. There's a long line so he tells me to grab a seat on one of the benches, and he'll get the ice cream. As I'm sitting there, he texts me that I look so pretty sitting there. He says I'm like the prettiest girl there. I write back that if he gets me some ice cream I'll love him for the rest of my life. It's playful, and it's cute, but there's something all so real at the back of it.

He comes over, and he brings me a mint chocolate chip ice cream on a cone. He has a sundae for himself. I like that the Brit likes watching me eat. This is something I haven't touched on too much, but I'm fond of telling people, I've always been a little bit top heavy and a little bit bottom heavy, and that's just the way it's always gonna be. That's what happens when you get the Asian height, and the white child bearing hips, but I came to terms with my figure a long time ago, and you only get one life so you have to learn to love yourself, and you have to surround yourself with people who love you for who you are. I think people are beautiful in all shapes and sizes. I think Hollywood presents an ideal body image that is unrealistic for the average American woman, but I've come to see through my dating that men are not necessarily opposed to women who are hipular, and many like knowing there's a little something to grab onto. In any event, I like food and enjoy eating too much to ever care too much about being a size 2. My feeling is always that if a guy doesn't like it, well, you know what? Don't look at it. However, on the whole I've found that most guys find it refreshing when they see a girl eating. Who knows? All I know is that it is fun to eat with someone you like, and as long as you're healthy and you feel good about the person you see in the mirror, that's all that really counts. Can I just say here and now that the Brit has fulfilled so many of my childhood romantical fantasies? He's taken me on a ferris wheel, he's strolled with me through a park, and now we're eating ice cream on a bench. He is such a prince charming but with a modern day rough around the edges touch.

After the ice cream, it's time to head our separate ways. The Brit is going to watch a basketball game at Madison Square Gardens. I haven't told him, but I am going for my second shot at speed dating. Time flies so fast when you're dating like a mad woman, but it was six months ago today that I went speed dating and met Mr. Handsome and the Cuban, and in my mind I kind of thought it would be a fun way to get some dates for the remaining 12 of my blog. As we're riding to Manhattan on the train, I suggest to the Brit that maybe we should take some time apart to think about things. He asks for how long. I randomly throw out 10 days. I say, "Can I have 10 days?" He agrees. We decide we won't contact each other, and we say goodbye at my stop when I get off. Immediately I am regretting this choice. I am missing the Brit. I don't want to go to speed dating. I am not feeling like I want to meet other men. I have hit the wall.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden: http://www.bbg.org/
Prospect Park: http://www.prospectpark.org/
The Chip Shop: http://www.chipshopnyc.com/
Brooklyn Tabernacle: http://www.brooklyntabernacle.org/
Uncle Luigi's: http://www.yelp.com/biz/uncle-luigis-brooklyn-2

To Blog or Not To Blog? That is the question.

2010-04-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

Where we last left off, things have been progressing nicely with the Brit. In my opinion it hasn't been an over the top I feel out of control of my emotions type courtship like the last one with the Cuban, but I think this is a good thing. It's interesting, but somehow the Brit makes me feel very stable, and I feel that he's a positive addition to my life. I think it's because he makes me feel so secure. I definitely know how he feels about me, and it just feels overwhelmingly reassuring and positive to not have questions or to not be wondering what he is thinking. I have to admit that on two Thursdays ago when he doesn't text me around 10 am just to say good morning, I find it a bit odd. The thing that we've recently come to acknowledge is that he's sort of become the last person I have contact with around 10 pm at night, and I'm usually the first person he has contact with around 10 am. It's because we have opposite schedules, and generally he stays up much later than me and sleeps in later than me as well, but somehow we've been making it work, and we've been communicating more and more (definitely on a daily basis), and it's all starting to feel a bit couplish but not in a bad way since I definitely like him and see this moving in a real and positive direction. That's why when he finally does text me on Thursday closer to noon than 10 am that I'm not really surprised when he expresses those four words capable of making or breaking a relationship--we need to talk. I don't know why, but I don't feel panic or distress of any sort. Basically I know it's either one of two things that he will say to me. He either wants to ask me to be his girlfriend, or he wants to break things off with me. I say this because I realize things are reaching a point of intensity where we need to have "the talk."

As you know, the weekend before was quite romantical and deeply immersed. Coney Island, sushi, church, and me expressing that maybe I was growing tired of dating other guys all in a 24 hour time period would be enough to bring about the talk between any two people, but I also have to credit what happened just two days ago on Tuesday to adding fuel to the fire. It was the night before a major exam in psychopathology that I was totally stressing about. It was around 9 pm, and what do you think the logical thing to do was considering the test was only hours away? Do some last minute cramming? Read over some articles? Perhaps try to do some form of test prep? No, obviously all of those options would make sense. Instead, I get on the phone, and I start talking to the Brit. We both know this is dangerous. We both know I should be studying. But we both also like it very much. We like talking and laughing and just connecting with one another. I told myself it would only be for 15 minutes, but instead we end up on the phone for 2 hours until he gets off of work at 11 pm at which time he says right before hanging up that he really wants to swing by my place on the way home and kiss me goodnight. I think this is a bad idea. Afterall, I know myself, and I know myself when I'm around a boy I like, and it won't be 5 minutes and goodbye. It will be until I absolutely have to go back inside and sleep. But somehow I'm in the moment, and the Brit is being spontaneous and romantic, and I say yes.

He calls me when he is downstairs outside of my apartment. I go down in my pajamas thinking I will only be there for a few minutes, but the minute I see him I am happy, and I know I want to spend time with him. He looks so cute in his glasses and his stylish cap. He knows I love the cap, and he has taken to wearing it more frequently. We hear the loud offkey singing from the Lemongrass Grill next door. They have karaoke every night, and if I were dressed for it at this moment, I would totally go in and sing a few songs with the Brit. Instead I say, "Do you wanna take a walk?" The Brit says, "Yeah." We start strolling around the block holding hands with me in my pajamas. Something about being here in this moment feels very free. In fact, when I'm with the Brit I always feel like we're in our own universe. We could be surrounded by a hundred people in Manhattan, but I am always sucked into this secret atmosphere of getting to know the Brit and falling into really strong like with the Brit. In fact, that is what I have taken to saying to him. Obviously I am not in love with him just yet. It's only been five weeks, but I am in really strong like with him. I think there are 3 levels. There's like, strong like, and then of course love. I think going from like to strong like is an easy level to transition to, but I think going from strong like to love takes a lot longer. I don't know how long I'll stay in this phase, but right now on this clear night, I really, really like being in strong like with the Brit.

We find a bench, and we sit down, and we alternate between talking and making out. That's what I like about the Brit. It's so easy with him. It doesn't feel like work, and in a word that's how I know this is right for right now. I like the casualness of it. I like the lack of labels and the scarcity of expectation. When I'm with him I'm not thinking necessarily of what the future will be like, but instead I am concentrating on the here and now and of enjoying this moment. However, I do have to mention that some of the things we talk about are not just here and now. We talk, all the time in fact, about where we want to live and children and the future. I think whenever the topic of the future comes into the conversation, it obviously changes the dynamic of things, but I think that's just who I am. I like to imagine what my life will be like when I'm dating someone, and if I find someone who also likes talking and imaginging about those things, the conversation naturally goes there. The Brit tells me that ordinarily talking about such heavy topics would scare him and he'd be out of there, but with me it doesn't scare him for some reason. After talking on the bench for about 3 hours, I realize that I really need to go back home. It's 2 am, and so as we head back, the Brit swoops me up and starts carrying me down the street. I feel like I'm a princess in a fairytale. The next day at work when I recount things to my co-worker she says the exact same thing. She says, "The Brit is straight out of a fairytale."

That's why on Thursday I am curious as to what our talk is going to entail. I go after work to meet the Brit on his break from work around 6:30. As I approach, I see him standing on the corner. He just got a haircut, and I really like it. It's super cute. We say hello, and he doesn't greet me with the usual kiss but instead suggests that we take a walk down by the water. I say okay. And I'm starting to get a hunch that the talk is not about being exclusive rather it's probably going to be the other notion. As we're walking though, the Brit grabs my hand so I'm a bit confused as to which way things are leaning. He tells me that he's been feeling a bit anxious all day about this talk that he wants to have with me. He asks me if I've felt nervous, and honestly I say, "Not really because I've kind of already worked it out in my mind that this talk is about one of two things, but I'm not gonna tell you what I think they are until after you say what you need to say." We evenutally make it to the water, and we find a seat on a bench facing the water.

The Brit seems tentative, not himself. He takes out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. He tells me since I've been writing about how I'm feeling this whole time in my blog now it's his turn, and he gives it to me. It's a page filled with his thoughts on things regarding me and him. I say, "Don't you want to read it?" He says, "No, I want you to read it." I look at the page, and I look back at him, and I say, "Are you gonna watch me read it?" He says, "No, I can take a stroll." I kind of laugh unable to not be goofy even in such a serious moment, and I say, "No, stay here." And I start reading it. It only takes a couple of lines in to realize that this is not a letter asking me to be his girlfriend. Instead it's a letter talking about how he doesn't know how much longer he can continue on with me doing my blog. It's not an ultimatum in the least, but rather it's just him expressing that he enjoys what we have been building on and cultivating. He feels that when we share these great moments it's wonderful, but then the very next day when I go on a date with another random guy, it takes away from the purity of our moments. I don't think his point is not valid. He's totally justified in feeling what he feels. This is an abnormal situation. But I don't think I'm ready to give up my blog just yet.

I don't really know how to respond. I wasn't expecting this talk to come about so fast. Afterall, it'll only be about another month until I finish my 50 first dates. But the Brit is right here in this moment, and he tells me he doesn't want to date other people. He likes me a lot, and he's afraid that he won't make it through the month, that it will ultimately hurt too much. I'm at a loss at to how to respond. It's always hard when you're put on the spot because whereas the other person has been sitting with their thoughts and contemplating what they feel and organized what they will say, you are left with this deer in the headlights look and trying to piece it all together and trying to figure out what you really and truly do want in this moment in time. I don't have a perfect answer by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I hardly have an answer at all, but I do manage to piece together something and say, "I know that you've been through a lot with your divorce, and the thing is that I can really relate. I was totally in love with my ex-boyfriend for 7 years so in some ways I feel like I'm divorced, too, and I can relate to disappointment in matters of love. In many ways, I think that we understand each other better than maybe someone who has never experienced a huge disappointment with regards to love even could." He takes it all in and seems to appreciate my effort. I continue on that I just really like him, and I don't want to stop seeing him, and I say nothing of giving up my blog. It's not even an option in my mind at this point. It's not something I want to do.

We talk some more up until the Brit has to return to work, and we don't reach any firm conclusions. We are in a different place from when we started the talk because it is very apparent how strongly the Brit feels for me, and I guess I have to figure out how strongly I feel for him. I like him a lot. Do I like him enough to give up my blog? What will I learn from the remaining 12 men? I know that he fears I may form a connection with one of the remaining guys. I don't really see it happening so I guess the obvious question he is asking is what purpose does it even serve to continue on then? I end up going home after the talk. I think I need to think about things to come up with a conclusion. The Brit and I end up deciding that he should stop by my place after work to do some karaoke at the Lemongrass Grill. When he arrives, I go to meet him. I'm not in my pajamas this time but instead in regular attire. We talk for a bit on the street corner, and it happens again, something similar to what happened really early on in our talks. The Brit says it's weird for us just to be talking about going to do something fun like karaoke when all of these weightier issues are encircling us and casting a cloud over the nowness of it all.

We end up at a corner pub in my neighborhood, and we have a couple of drinks, and what I realize in this moment is that I don't know much about where this is going or what I truly want. I like the Brit so much, but something is holding me back from fully committing to him or at least giving up my blog. I don't really know what it is. It's nothing intrinsically wrong with him. He is great in so many ways. It's just this ever present voice inside of myself that keeps reminding me how much I like being free. I'm scared of losing myself with someone again, but as I look at the Brit in this darkened pub, I don't necessarily feel like I would lose anything of myself. I think I might find something all the more inspiring and life changing than the path of solid independence. I can't be sure at this moment, but I think the Brit is offering me a chance at real happiness, and I know it's something I have to consider. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to give up this connection we've been building because from what I can see it just keeps getting better everytime we see each other.

That One Hot Month

2010-04-15T16:25:00.000-07:00

Things are getting heady in my life and my blog once again. So as you know I've been dating the Brit for about a month now. I have a history of having that one hot month with guys throughout my life going all the way back to my very first year in college. It's not on purpose I don't suppose. In the beginning it was mainly because I usually dated guys who I didn't have that much in common with. There was the obvious physical attraction or maybe some weird quirk that drew me to the guy, but beyond that it usually never had potential to grow into anything real and substantial. I think what also contributed to the brevity of my interactions was that I would usually go for the guy who just wasn't that into me or was a complete commitment phobe. Aah, yes, there was the film student, the surfer, the raver, the violist, the trust fund baby, etc. The list goes on and on. And in the end I always walked away feeling happy I went for it even though it never turned into anything more than some fun make-out sessions and occasionally a few deep talks at midnight on some rooftop or something related to that. In essence it was the early days, and early days are usually talked about sentimentally when looking back from a deeper time period later on in the relationship. However, my biggest thing is that I never go beyond the early days. It's not that I don't want to or am not capable of it. Afterall, I penetrated surfaces I didn't even know existed with my ex-boyfriend over a 7 year period, but he's really the only one. With the others, there were certain moments of potential if you will, but something always kept me from going there. Something always got in the way either on his side or my side or both.

Even with the Cuban as you'll recall, I definitely look back and characterize that as having been one hot month. We had a lot of fun, and even though it didn't last I still look back on it fondly. Right around the one month mark is where things began to hit a pivotal mark of feeling like they could either go one way or the other, and in the end I think we could both see that our differences were too great that no matter how long we had dated, we would have just ended up friends in the end. So I'm at the one month mark with the Brit. Which way is it going to go? On the Saturday before Easter, the Brit tells me he'll take me to Coney Island. I feel really honored because apparently this is his favorite place, and he's never taken a girl here on a date before. I visited Coney Island once before when I was a tourist back in 2006. I loved it. Once again we get to have a long train ride to the very edge of Brooklyn. I love sitting in the seats side by side with him holding my hand and since this train emerges above ground watching the world go by. It had seemed like a lovely day for Coney Islanding when we left his apartment, but by the time we arrive, this part of Brooklyn is completely overcast. It's seriously foggy and not the sunny day we left behind. It's kind of funny actually because it's really chilly and not the sunny spring day we were expecting. It doesn't matter. We decide to make the most of it. This is like my dream date that is about to ensue, going to an amusement park with a British boy that I like. We do all of the totally cliche romantic things. We ride the Wonder Wheel which is like this humongous ferris wheel. The Brit wins me a teddy bear dressed in a Yankee's outfit from one of those claw machines where you have to maneuver the claw over the animal and drag it out. When I lived in Japan, my friend Kristen was a pro at this. She seriously had the magic touch, but other than her I have never seen anyone ever win a stuffed animal out of one of those machines. I'm so impressed, and the bear is actually cute, and I tell the Brit that I will name the bear J.J which is short for (His Real Name), Jr. After winning the bear, there's really only one thing left to do. We have to ride the Cyclone. If you're not familiar, this is apparently one of the oldest roller coasters around. It's made of wood, and the scariest part is looking at all the chipped off paint on the wood and hearing and seeing how creeky it is. The thing seriously looks like it's going to collapse at any moment. My friend Michele and I rode it back in 2006. I forced her to get in the very back seat with me, and we both ended up with something close to whiplash afterwards. This time the Brit and I ride in the next to the front seat. The worst part of any roller coaster is always the ascent up. It's the anticipation, but once you start going down I actually don't mind because I kind of feel like there's no getting out of it so you might as well enjoy it. And enjoy it I do. Truth be told, the Cyclone is my favorite style of roller coaster. I like the ones with the steep dips and drops most of all. The Brit is a total adrenaline junkie. Afterall, he has already bungee jumped and sky dived. I'm sure this is nothing to him.

After the coaster, we've worked up an appetite, and we head to Nathan's. The Brit buys me a corn dog and a cheese dog and a giant lemonade. We find a table outside and eat it in the chilly Coney Island air. It's in moments like these that I really start to realize how much I'm starting to like the Brit. If you ask me, there have been three levels for me. The first level was being blown away by his accent. Seriously straight from the get-go I just loved to hear him talk. The second level was realizing that he was quite charming in that British sort of way. Ya know, little sayings and sarcastic humor. Then finally the third level brought me to the realization that there is something there deeper and below the surface and not just superficial. This guy is not just some Eurotrash knock off who wants to get in my pants. He is totally and completely abundantly sweet. He has interesting things to say. He's quite humorous actually, and when we talk we realize more and more that we want many of the same things. He's open to living in other places with me. He wants to have a big family. He wants to travel the world. He likes that I'm creative. He likes that I'm goofy. In essence, I get a real sense that he likes me just the way I am, and I think that is very important in moving forward. I never once have felt like I need to change anything or tone anything down or try to be something closer to what he wants to fit a mold of some sort. As far as I know I don't really know what kind of girls he generally goes for. Maybe he's open like me and tends to like a variety of different types, but what I do know is that whatever his type is, he's definitely making me feel like I'm it as we sit at this outdoor table eating hot dogs and drinking lemonade.

We realize it's getting colder, and we decide to head back to his pad in Park Slope. We're planning on going for sushi later, but we have some time to kill so we end up hanging out on his bed playing old school video games. We discovered the day before at the Museum of the Moving Image that I was quite the wiz at Super Mario Brothers. They had an old school nintendo on display that we played for a bit. He lets me play it once again, and I find it amazing what the brain retains. When I was 11 years old, my brother got one of the original nintendos for Christmas, and I remember there was probably a good solid year where I would spend a couple of hours everyday playing Super Mario brothers everyday after school. Yep, I was one of those kids. There was also Mike Tyson's Punchout and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but Super Mario Brothers was always my favorite. I knew all the secret passageways and where all the hidden mushrooms were. It was while I was playing this that I couldn't help but think, why can't my brain forget some of this useless information in order to store more important present day crap. Oh well.

Once night falls, we head into Manhattan to actually my neighborhood the South Street Seaport to a restaurant called Suteishi. I could seriously eat sushi everyday so I'm so excited. The restaurant is really cute. We end up ordering some lychee martinis and a bunch of random rolls. It's here in this romantic setting that I start to acknowledge how diverse the Brit is. He's so much like me it's freaky. He fits in well in so many different atmospheres and environments. I can go from one moment feeling absolutely 12 years old riding roller coasters and playing video games to the next minute being very mature and possibly on the road to far exceeding that one hot month here at this NYC sushi joint. He holds my hand throughout the meal, and this is the moment I start to realize that I like the Brit more and more everytime I hang out with him. My endearment for him is growing, and that's a good thing. There haven't been any major red flags as of yet. He doesn't have a temper. He doesn't make me feel self conscious. He makes me feel very secure in how he feels. He's so forthcoming with his verbal affirmations.

In fact, is everyone familiar with the five languages of love? A while ago a book was written that claimed that there are 5 languages of love, and everyone has certain ones that they prefer to receive, and because this is what they like this is usually how they express their love back. However, incompatibility comes in when your languages of love differ from those of your partner because most likely you're not giving and receiving what best suits each other. The languages are words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. Let's look at this a little closer. Words of affirmation--the Brit is always saying in a very straightforward non-reading between the lines kind of way, "I like you so much" or "I'm so attracted to you" or "I really like spending time with you." Quality time--the Brit is all about spending time together whether it's days at a time on the weekends or even little moments here and there on his work break or on the phone at night. Receiving gifts--Hello, the Brit just won me a teddy bear. I'm not even gonna expand on that. Acts of Service--He cooked me dinner. The first guy to EVER do that. Physical Touch--The Brit never ever lets go of my hand. He kisses me at random. He gives great hugs. Okay, according to this assessment the Brit excels at all of the languages of love. He is a real and true giver. He is boyfriend material. Who am I kidding? He is life partner material. Maybe I'm getting carried away here, but I don't think you meet guys like this everyday at just the right time in their lives when they're ready to make a connection and be someone's boyfriend. I wish I were more relationship oriented. I would be engaged to this guy right now. Okay, that's way over the top, but there's nothing wrong with him.

In any event, the meal is awesome. We talk about walking back to his place across the Brooklyn Bridge, but it's waaay too chilly so we take the train back. The above paragraph should give you an idea of why I'm starting to really like this guy, but to me what happens on the next day is really a turning point for me. It is Easter, and I have a plan to go to church at Trinity which is right up the street from my apartment near Wall Street. The Brit has told me that he would like to accompany me to church even though he's Agnostic just because he has never visited a church in America. I'm cool with that, and in fact, I'm actually a little surprised and acknowledging of the fact that he is indeed very, very open to new experiences. We make it to church a little bit late, and it's packed because it's a really famous church and because it's Easter. As a result, there are no seats, and we have to stand in back with the other latecomers. I jokingly say to the Brit that it's just like our first night at the Slipper Room with the bodies all packed together. It's not that extreme. Afterall, it's church. The Brit holds my hand during the service, and I find myself leaning on him for support in moments where I feel a bit tired. We look at the program and sing together at random times, and there are moments when the preacher is talking when I look over at the Brit, and he is staring ahead in contemplation and listening, and I find myself thinking he is very appealing. He's a handsome guy, and he's just entirely great in so many ways. I want to keep liking him. I really, really do. He's the guy. He's the one I could take to church one minute then gay dancing the next and possibly round it off with a night at the rodeo or a plate of sushi, whichever comes first. In a nutshell, he is so much of what I'm looking for. I think I only discover it in this moment or the one following it where we are taking communion together. There is nothing permanent or unchangeable about him. He's someone who you can grow with because he's still evolving much like myself, and that is possibly the most appealing thing about him that I have discovered so far.

It's so funny how he's not anything like so many of the things I had in my head when I started this blog. He's not Christian. He's not half Asian. He's not a corporate 9-5er. He's not in any rush to get married because he just got divorced. BUT...I think one of the greatest learning lessons I've acquired from this blog is that the person you end up with sometimes is not anything like what you were imagining, and they turn out to be so much better than your wildest ponderings. He's not Christian, but he's open. He's not half Asian, but he's British, and that's kind of just as cool. He's not a corporate 9-5er, but I think through the course of this blog and the random guys, I've come to see that corporate is not necessarily my thing. It's a whole lifestyle, and I don't know if ultimately I fit in with that even as just the wife. And as for the marriage bit, I think the fact that he's not in a rush to get married suits me quite well because I think I've previously expressed and come to realize, I'm not anywhere near there myself.

After church, the Brit is going to meet some friends Uptown. He had invited me to come along, but I need to stay indoors today and study for an exam I have coming up. This whole weekend has been like a whirlwind from start to finish, an escape if you will. I didn't have to think about real life when I was in Queens and Brooklyn and random parts of Manhattan with him, but as we reach the front of my apartment I am dreading going inside. I don't want to study. I just want to keep hanging out with him, and that's when I say it. I say, "I don't want to date the other guys." I have 12 left to go. I'm so close yet so far away. It would be easy to just call it a day, but even as I look into his face, I know I am not completely serious. He suggests that we go sit on the planter across the street. It is such a beautiful sunny day in April, and I would love to be laying on a grassy knoll with him somewhere instead of going inside to study. It's at this moment that I realize I have such an escapist mentality. Whenever I get stressed out by real life, I just want to fly away to something more carefree. He represents a fantasy to me at this moment, but the best part of all is that he could become a part of my reality if I will only let him.

So I'm really starting to wonder if I'll be able to make it through the last 12. I don't see a problem as of now. Afterall, the Brit has been cool and supportive, and I am still continuing to make time for him. This was the moment right around when things crashed and burned with the Cuban. I want to think, and I really do believe that things can be different this time. I think that I am different this time, and I sincerely hope I have found a guy who can tell me if things start to go amiss. The Brit is so honest. I think there is real potential here. Stay tuned to find out if I ever solve the ever emerging question of whether or not to open myself to love or to finish the 50 dates I originally thought I needed to find myself in life and in this city.

Museum of the Moving Image: http://www.movingimage.us/site/site.php
Coney Island: http://www.coneyisland.com/tourism.shtml
Nathan's: http://www.nathansfamous.com/PageFetch/
Suteishi: http://www.suteishi.com/

Date #38--The Soldier

2010-04-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

When the Soldier first contacted me, I wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed very organized and on the ball and in a term militaristic. I'll let you in on a little secret. When I was a kid, I had a far flung fantasy of marrying a military guy. First of all, I thought they looked so handsome in their uniforms, but more than that I was drawn to the idea of living my life overseas and traveling around and moving to exotic locales every four years. However, I soon came to realize that the life of a military wife is not always as glamorous as what my 12 year old mind had spun. In fact, it pretty much entails devoting your life to the fact that your husband's life is the military. Plus, not all the locales are as exotic as Germany or Hawaii. Instead more than likely you'll end up in some tiny town in Oklahoma or Texas. The Soldier tells me that he'll be in town in a couple of weekends from when we first correspond. This strikes me as a bit odd. His profile lists him as living in Queens. I don't give it much thought, but come to think of it I don't think there's an Army base in Queens. I do know there's one in Upstate New York. He must be coming from there and is maybe from Queens originally or something to that effect. In any event, we set the date up, and we wait for the time to arrive. Keep in mind, this is also the guy who was pretty gung ho about having our first date filmed by the match.com crew. A couple of days before our proposed date, I still have not heard anything about the filming so I email the Soldier just to find out what the dealio is. He tells me that he sent his screen test into them since he was not in NYC, and the casting lady told him that I was "adorable." However, apparently our date was scheduled too soon, and they were not able to get clearance from all the places we were planning on going on our date so it looks like we'll just be having a regular old fashioned date without the cameras. I think it would have been a uniquely odd experience, but in essence I'm not too broken up about it. I think it would have been a bit strange to have a camera in my face for the whole date. I think it would have taken a lot more for us to both be completely natural and comfortable on the first date. Interesting but weird.

It's Friday afternoon around 4:30 pm. I'm meeting the Soldier at the Japan Society. I'm just a smidge late. As I approach, I see him wave at me from across the street where there are a row of park benches. He's not in full on military uniform as I'm sure that would be quite attention grabbing, but instead he is in civilian's clothing, and he could pass for a guy in any line of work. We greet each other with a handshake, and the first thing I say is, "Are you totally disappointed that we're not being filmed right now?" He kind of laughs and says that it wasn't that big of a deal to him. In fact, now that I recall I remember him at the last minute expressing some concern that being filmed might have professional consequences. I had reassured him that I'm sure it wouldn't be exploitative. Afterall, it's not that show "Blind Date." Now that show was embarrassing. We decide to head inside the museum. Once we get inside it's very Japanesey. Everything about the sliding doors and the well tended to indoor garden reminds me of the land of the rising sun. We get the tickets, and we head up to the second floor where there is a special exhibition by Utagawa Kuniyoshi. His paintings from 150 years ago are a major influence on the work of today's manga and anime artists.

As we walk around the gallery, the Soldier and I talk and get to know each other. I inquire about the whole coming from out of town bit but having Queens listed on his profile, and he explains that he is from Queens originally and his parents still live there, but he is currently stationed in Kansas for the next 2 years. Ok, Kansas? What? Granted I didn't make much of an effort to get to know him beforehand, but even if I were really into this guy, I just don't think I could sign up for something like this. I don't do long distance. First of all, when you get involved in something like this, it prevents you from ever truly being in the moment of where you are because your heart is always with someone who is thousands of miles away. It keeps you from being present, and like I have expressed several times before, NYC is where I presently choose to be, and as we have seen from my previous encounters there are more than enough guys in the City without starting up a romance with a guy in the Midwest. Plus, not to knock Kansas, but I remember being in Kansas on a roadtrip I took last summer, and there's not a lot going on in Kansas. I picture it to be not so very different from being in some tiny town in Oklahoma or Texas except probably without the Southern accent.

So as we're walking around and looking at the art, I can discern that the Soldier is highly intelligent. He makes very observant comments about the art. Plus, he seems to know a fair amount about Japanese culture which is impressive. In addition, I find out that he previously served in Afghanistan. This part I find fascinating to be able to talk to someone who has been up close and actually on the front battle lines. I ask him how intense it was, and he tells me that he's seen it all. He's even lost friends in battle. I think this must be a challenging way of life to know that at any moment someone you know might go down or that at any moment it could be you. The Soldier is calm, cool, and collected in his mannerisms and his gate. I don't want to say he's stiff per se, but he definitely appears formal to me, and it's hard for me to gage exactly how much I could get away with joking around with him without him finding me too off the wall or goofy. We talk about military movies. I tell him I loved "An Officer and a Gentleman" and "Full Metal Jacket." I ask him if anyone in his basic training ever went off his rocker like the guy in "Full Metal Jacket." He kind of laughs and says no, but there were definitely guys who didn't fit in.

The art on display is interesting. I can totally see how it inspires the current phenomenon that is the manga of today. Japanese art is really dark. It deals with people being stabbed and monsters hovering above and such. The exhibit is quite extensive, and I have to say I'm a bit more impressed by it than the display that was at the Asia Society which was so compact. In any event, near the end we happen upon a current day manga artist from Japan who is sitting in a room and drawing. We go in and watch for a bit. It reminds me of the two years I spent living in Japan. What a wild and lifechanging chapter that was. I remember it was nice when I first went there because the men are so shy, and they never ever check you out. It was kind of a refreshing break to be able to just go about your daily life and not have to worry about being bothered by some random dude. However, after about a year of that, it was kind of like it would be nice to be flirted with on occasion. Everyone needs a little validation once in a while. It was such a dry spell, and in some ways I think moving to NYC is also a direct reaction to that. Whereas I lived in a tiny farming village in Japan where there were literally no dating options, well except for maybe my travel agent who spoke really good English but got totally freaked out just by the mere mention by me that we should go play pool sometime, I now live in a city where there are men on every corner, and you can fill your dance card at the drop of your hat. I think when I moved to NYC I had a conscious thought in my head that I definitely wanted to see what was out there, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to really explore the dating scene, and the fact that I have diligently been on 38 dates as of this one and experienced so much of the City and so much of the different men and what men want and what men desire is an amazing thought to me. I am forever changed, and I'm not even at the end of my project just yet. However, I think I'm starting to wonder exactly how much more there is left to learn. I think I'm starting to question at what point you realize you've got a good thing with someone such as what is developing with the Brit and at what point you keep searching because you always think there's going to be something better out there.

So after the museum, the Soldier and I have some time to kill before our dinner reservation. We decide to take a walk past the United Nations because it is just right up the street. I get really excited. I have never been there, and I've been wanting to check it out. Unfortunately the flags have already been taken down so that probably means it's closed for the day. I think to myself that I'll have to come back sometime possibly on a future date. The Soldier and I circle back around and head to the subway at Grand Central. The Soldier tells me about his education and growing up in Queens, and we have a nice get to know you conversation, but I have to tell you that it's happening again. Thoughts of the more permanent staple are seeping in. I spent the earlier part of the day with the Brit. We went to the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. Queens is the first place the Brit lived when he moved to America, and he showed me around his old neighborhood, and we grabbed some food from the Greek stand on the way back to Manhattan and ate it on the train. I don't know what to tell you, but something about eating on the train and walking around different neighborhoods with the Brit just really gets me going. The things we do are so very NYC, very unstructured, and very rough in a way. We had talked about London and how very much I would love to travel there with him someday. I asked him if he would take me, and he said he would...one day. He is incredibly sweet and attentive, and I think even as I enjoy date #38, I am starting to question how much longer I need to continue.

But that is a question for another time. Tonight I am here with the Soldier, and we hop on a subway en route for the East Village. As we ride on the train, the Soldier tells me that NYC has changed so much from when he was a teenager growing up here. He tells me that it used to be super dangerous. You used to have to be wary of riding in certain subway cars at certain times of the night. It was no stereotype that people used to get mugged on the streets. It really did happen. And people used to actually jump turnstiles back when no one cared. He tells me that he was unlucky once the shift happened, and he once got caught jumping a turnstile with a friend and was arrested. Luckily he was underage, and it didn't go on his permanent record, but I think it's interesting hearing stories of the "real New York" or at least something closer to what I always saw portrayed in movies when I was a kid. I don't know what happened, but I'm really happy it's a lot safer now. What can I say? I love this City. Although the Soldier and I do talk about the book Freakonomics which posits that the reduction in crime came about as a result of abortion becoming legalized in 1973 because when the crime rates began to fall around 1991 it's because the babies that would have grown up to be criminals were never born. Interesting theory and a really good book.

Once we arrive in the East Village, we're apparently very early for our reservation. I could swear that when the Soldier forwarded me the reservation, it said 7:30, but he claims it's for 8:30 so I just think, "Oh well. He must know better than me." Per usual, we end up at a Starbucks killing some time. I go for a mocha of some sort as does the Soldier. While we're sitting at Starbucks, we start talking about religion, and it turns out that the Soldier's parents are very Christian, and he was raised that way, but he no longer really believes in it passionately. However, that being said he knows it is extremely important for him to marry a Christian woman to make them happy. I say, "Wow, you are so obedient." He tells me that he has to be. I think respect for parents is a great quality, but I also think that at the end of the day you have to go with the life choices that are going to bring you true happiness. He tells me that he actually dated a Japanese woman for 7 years, but that eventually ended because of the difference in religion. Now he's been actively seeking out women who list Christian in their profile. However, he's encountered a similar problem to myself. People who list that tend to sometimes be very hardcore, way more hardcore than what I'm into. I'm happy to call myself Christian, but I feel it's a bit much when it's almost like an obsession. I hear there's a new thing now called addiction to religion. I won't name names, but ahem, I definitely know some people like this. And hey if that makes you happy go for it, but that is just never gonna be me.

In any event, I cut to the chase, and I tell the Soldier that he should search for women in Kansas. Afterall, that's where he currently lives, and that's where he'll be for the next couple of years. I would think cultivating a relationship with someone nearby would ultimately be more promising in the moment than trying to create a long distance romance to carry over into future times, but that's just my opinion. Actually the Soldier goes onto tell me that he's on both match.com and eharmony. He's been seeking out dates in both NYC and LA, and he sets these dates up when he flies in on weekends. I have to tell you that I'm a bit relieved by this revelation. The Soldier had been quite steadfast in his setting up of this date and with the whole proposal to film our date, I was beginning to worry that maybe he was putting a lot of stock into this date, but once I find out he's a bit of a serial dater, I find myself happy in knowing that we're a bit similar in that regard. He also tells me that the women in Kansas can't compare to what he can find in Los Angeles and New York. He says that women here are in better shape and dress better. I'm sure that statement is true, but I don't really think that is the reasoning I give for enjoying dating in NYC when it comes to men. I think there's just a greater chance you're going to meet someone who loves to travel, likes eating ethnic food, is up for adventure, and is willing to go on a numerous amount of dates until they find the one or decide they're not really looking for the one and instead love being single in a place like LA or New York as opposed to Kansas, and that is appealing to me--the rampant independent spirit present in the streets and spaces of NYC. Everyone likes to think of their life as a movie, and nowhere is that more felt than in a city such as this one.

Around 8 pm, we decide to head to Gyu-Kaku which is the restaurant the Soldier has picked for us. It's a Japanese barbeque place where you pay the people to let you cook your own dinner. In all seriousness though it was really common when I lived in Japan, and I loved the interactive experience of it so I'm pretty excited as we approach the restaurant and also because I'm pretty hungry by this point. The Soldier tells me that this style of restaurant is just now really starting to take off and is quite the current novelty in NYC. For example, last year tapas were all the rage. Now it's Japanese bbq. It's kind of funny because after living in Japan, it doesn't seem like such a novelty to me, but I can see how it would be if I had never done it before. Once we get inside the restaurant the Soldier tells the hostess that we have an 8:30 reservation. She looks at her books, and she says that the reservation was for 7:30. That's what I thought. I can immediately see the Soldier backtrack in his mind. It's not a big deal to me. I mean we'll eat when we eat, but it is Friday night, and the place is packed. The hostess tells us that it'll probably be about an hour wait. I tell the Soldier I'm cool with that if he is. He apologizes very sincerely and says he could have sworn it was 8:30. It's no big deal, and we decide to sit at the bar, and have some sushi as an appetizer.

I think I'm trying to work out in my head what my opinion is of this date. If I'm to be honest, I don't think there's a ton of chemistry. I think the Soldier is great. He's smart, good looking, ambitious, in a word I would say reliable. But I think I can tell that extra something for me is not really there, and I think that's the case with or without the Brit in the picture. I'm getting a feeling that maybe the Soldier feels the same way. I'm not really sure what he's looking for. We haven't really discussed it much. I assume he wants someone his family will approve of but also someone who he feels stimulated by on an intellectual and physical level. We end up getting seated after about 45 minutes instead of an hour. Once we take our seats, I get really jazzed to not only eat but to watch the food cooking in front of us. We decide to go for a big tasting menu that includes lots of beef, chicken, shrimp, veggies, etc. The best part about this kind of restaurant is that there's no wait time on the food to come out. Once you order they immediately start bringing out these plates of raw meat, and you start cooking it, and it cooks really fast. I like that the Soldier is take charge and kind of takes a lot of initiative with putting the meat on the grill. Once we taste it, it is so succulent and delicious. The dipping sauces are amazing. I highly recommend this restaurant for the entertainment value alone, but the satisfaction on taste sends it over the top on my list.

I knew it had to come up at some point, and over dinner it does. The Soldier starts delving deeper into what exactly my agenda is in all of this online dating. He asks me how many dates I've been on. I say a few. He's clearly thinking 4 or 5 so I say, "Actually I've been on 38 dates so far." I'm thinking he's going to totally judge me and turn the grill over, but instead he kind of gets this intrigued, pleased look on his face, and he wants to know more. He says, "I thought I had been on a lot of dates after 14, but you've got me beat by miles." He continues, "So I want to hear your stories. Tell me about your worst." When people ask this I usually bring up the Anime Guy or Mr. Quickie. He says, "What was your best date?" That's hard to say. Obviously I always think of the first one with the Cuban because it was the first one where I really felt a spark, and obviously the Brit comes pretty close, but omg there were so many flashes of merit in a lot of them so I can't really say, and that's what I say. I say, "It's hard to pick a favorite." He says, "Well, what were some of the best date activities. Tell me." And it's at this point that I can tell this guy is really into it, and with the last question I almost start to feel that he's probing for date ideas for his future dates. Okay, I can roll with it since I'm not really too concerned with a future date anyway. I say, "Well, I think a museum is always a good date, but one time I went on a boat ride around New York Harbor. Another time I went on one of those Sightseeing buses. I think doing an interactive date would be fun like taking a cooking class or going wine tasting." I don't know. It's at this moment that I realize I think dating is fun. I like meeting new people, and I like going on random adventures. I don't know if I'm ready for a fully committed relationship. If I have to ask myself that probably means I'm not. However, I also know there comes a point in all of this where you have to ask yourself, "Do you want to keep spending time having these random and fun but very surfacey encounters, or do you want to spend that time cultivating a deeper connection with just one person?" But I guess we've always known that that has been the defining dilemma and the ever present question of this blog from the get go.

After talking about dating for a while, I find that the Soldier has the extreme opposite reaction of what I was expecting. Instead of thinking I'm a total non-commital basketcase, he seems to think what I'm doing is interesting. I don't tell him about my blog, but I tell him about my goal of 50 first dates, and he loves it. He seems to think I should write about it, that it would make a great article for something like the Village Voice. He's ambitious. He says, "With 50 dates, I think you could definitely write an article, but if you do 100 or 200, you'd have a book easily." And then he springs it on me. He says he has connections in the publishing world. He says he's going to float my idea around and see what kind of a response it gets. Keep in mind I still have not come clean about my blog. I think in the moment I am processing what exactly he is saying. He is saying that he thinks my stories of dating in NYC are interesting primarily because I'm not from New York, and I offer a different perspective. In addition, it's not like most of the guys are even flat out weirdos. I'm writing about normal people and the common bond that we all share in our search for love. It has a quality that could possibly have mass appeal to both men and women and both New Yorkers and people in Kansas (representative of everywhere in America that's not New York) alike. This is something to consider. Also how things are going to round out is something to consider as well. Do I really need to make it to 50 to tell a good story? Don't readers want a happy ending no matter what number it ends at? And the most important question of all is what defines my happy ending? Is it being with a guy, or is it being happy knowing I don't necessarily need a guy? And in the end even someone who doesn't need a guy usually still wants one. I know I want one.

So the last thing to be cooked on the grill comes. It's our dessert, and it's smores. I am so over the top happy. I haven't had a smore in ages, but I love them. As we're grilling them, I think of a simpler time. The last time I made smores was in the summer of 1999 in an apartment in LA with a couple of girlfriends. I remember feeling particularly free that summer. It was the summer before I fell in love with my ex-boyfriend, and I was completely unattached. There have been moments here and there throughout my life when I have had flashes of freeness where I didn't feel attached to anyone romantically and felt completely only obligated to myself. I have felt that a lot this first year of living here in NYC, and when guys who I've felt something for have emerged such as the Cuban or the Brit, I've struggled to ask myself, do I really want to give up that feeling of knowing I can come and go as I please and never have to miss someone when they're gone? It's empowering really, but I do also know that sometimes if you search too hard and are never satisfied, you end up with nothing special at all. And I would rather have love than nothing at all.

After dinner, the Soldier walks me to the subway. We are going in opposite directions so we say goodbye at the stairs. He tells me he'll let me know if anything comes about in the publishing industry. I'm not holding my breath, but it is fun to entertain the idea of reaching the masses with my writing. Whether I do or not is inconsequential. What does matter is knowing that part of what makes me loyal to this blog is the fire it has reignited in me. It has made me passionate about writing again and about creating something to write about. The question that is weighing heavy on my mind now is--do I really need to keep writing about it, or am I ready to just start living it??

Japan Society: http://www.japansociety.org/
Gyu-Kaku: http://www.gyu-kaku.com/