Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Believe it or not, I actually had two dates this past weekend. I’m not going to write anything about the first, which took place on Saturday night, since it went really well and I’m hoping to see the woman in question again this coming weekend.But I'll happily tell you about the second one, which took place on Sunday night, while most of the rest of the country was being suckered by a huge corporation into believing that overweight men with IQs of 20 running around with a Humvee’s worth of protective gear on is entertainning.For the past few weeks, my friend Jew had been suggesting that I call up her friend Jenna to take her out. I wasn’t crazy about this idea for two reasons: 1) Jew and I are just friends, although we did sleep together once a long time ago and so it seemed a bit strange to go out with one of her friends. 2) Blind dates just suck.Whatever. I had Jenna’s phone number and so, while being bored at work last week, I gave her a call. We never spoke, but on Monday and Tuesday of last week we played phone tag and exchanged emails enough to make a date to meet at Taralucci e Vino near Union Square at 7:30pm on Sunday.But when Sunday rolled around, I was still basking in the fun from my Saturday night outing and really wasn’t in the mood to go out with somebody else. But Jew had mentioned to me a few days earlier than Jenna was really looking forward to meeting me on Sunday night. And so I didn’t want to be a jerk and cancel at the last minute.Jenna was a tall/slim brunette with long dark hair. Very stylishly dressed. She looked great. Except that she was wearing fur. With a matching fur pocketbook. It all looked fashionable and expensive, but I’m totally turned off by fur. I mean, I have a cat. And I love animals. So right now, she was batting about even: a plus for being gorgeous, and a minus for wearing a fur coat.And then she made the bartender let her try three different wines, taking almost ten minutes before settling on one. She was polite about it and the bartender didn’t mind, but the high maintenance sign in my head was going off. This was reminding me of my old friend Rachel. In fact, I almost texted Rachel to tell her that might’ve met somebody more high maintenance that she is.Anyway, Jenna and I settled in to chat over our wine. She had an interesting life story. Her family had moved from St. Petersburg when she was in high school, and they’d moved to Indiana. Then she’d gone to Stanford. Now she made a ton of money at a super huge investment bank. I was intrigued.And then she told me about a movie she’d seen last week. In excruciating detail. The whole plot. My mind began to wander. I told myself to pay attention. She might ask me a question, and I'd be thinking about Rachel in her lingerie. Or something Bill Maher said on his show this week. But the story of the plot of this movie went on for a super long time.But after two glasses of wine, I started to have fun. And we decamped to a restaurant and had a really engaging, engrossing conversation.I don’t feel like going into much details but Jenna is extremely beautiful and sexy, and really very interesting and smart. I would certainly see her again, but I think that she might be a little bit "high maintenance" for me. We were out for about 4 or 5 hours. So... I'd like to go out with her again, but in the end I'm not sure if it's a good match. Although, to be completely honest, I'm quite attracted to her. Even in just a physical sense.Interestingly, I had a date on Saturday night that also went well. I'm supposed to see that girl this coming Saturday, and very much looking forward to it.
Posted in:
Blind Dates,
Dating,
Jew
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Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Everything is mysterious, confusing, muddling. I feel like life is running me over, and I get so afraid that I sabotage everything. I think I must do it on purpose, albeit subconsciously, so I don't feel completely blindsided. I suppose I'd rather walk straight into traffic so I can brace myself before being struck down. If that makes any sense. Instead of being run down on the sidewalk, unsuspecting.I was in a very frightening car accident a couple of months ago and I now have a very visceral memory of what it felt like to be the one careening out of control, feeling yourself floating in air, about to hit cement and feel glass and metal crushing but not feeling it yet. And powerless, in the hands of God some would say. Suspended in time between the unchangeable past and an imminent razor-sharp explosion.You hold your breath.And I mean its nothing so serious. This feeling now, it isn't life and death. But you're still running out of air and the consequences are coming closer and closer. It all happens so fast. One gesture and its all over.And you can stop everything and at the same time you can't. You're omnipotent and yet crippled by what you can't control. You're just scared scared scared.That's what's horrible about falling in love. I think I need to breathe. I think that's the key. I think I need to breath and let go. Why do I worry so much? If I'm suspended, frozen between what I've already done and the inevitable consequences, then what have I to worry about?Today I will ground myself and focus on what's at my fingertips. And breathe.
Posted in:
All about me,
Dating,
Love
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My mother’s best-friend, Melissa is a woman who terrifies me. She is a brilliant, petite blonde who is a total firecracker. She runs marathons; she has written articles for magazines; she has owned a boutique on the Champs E. in Paris...and not to be a total namedropper, but she also dated some pretty famous dudes before they became famous. Melissa works out with a trainer three days a week at Equinox; she owns a spectacular apartment with panoramic city views; and her closet could easily be mistaken as an outpost of Bergdorf Goodman...filled with more Roberto C. and Chloe than you could shake a stick at. She finishes the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle every weekend with nary a mistake. She has a wicked sense of humor and is universally adored by all of our clients and co-workers alike. Melissa comes from a wonderful family who gave her the best education money could buy - along with frequent trips around the globe...to hone her shopping, skiing, and scuba diving skills to boot. Did I mention that she is always perfectly plucked, groomed, and manicured at all times as well?The problem, you wonder? She is 45-years old and single. She has never been married, never had a child, and hasn't even had a serious boyfriend in the past three years. Melissa goes home every night and watches television alone; she cooks a healthy dinner for one to eat at her dining table by herself; and at bed-time, she crawls solo into her Frette-laden bed wondering things like "Is it too late to freeze my eggs?" and "Why aren't Russian mail order grooms available?"Melissa’s three dating options are as follows: 1) Going to bars in a low cut top (she has fake tits) 2) Paying a match maker $10,000 to find her a husband 3) Putting her photo up on every online dating service known to the world wide web. She chose option three and is thus an active member of Match, J-Date, and e-Harmony. In the past three years, she has endured countless blind dates and over time her desired age range has gone from 35 to 45, to 30 to 50, and now I think she is somewhere between 24 and 67 years of age for her "ideal match." God help her...another couple years of single hood and Melissa might end up as the only girl on a dating website willing to date any man between the ages of 18 to 99, of any race, any religion, any income...with the sole requirement being a pulse.
Posted in:
Dating,
family,
Matchmaker
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Thursday, October 4, 2007
As I am typing this, I am beating myself up because I really don’t want to finish the “It all began” chapters.
See, that is my problem. I get bored.
I get bored with people; hence the short terms relationships and so lack of commitment. I hate repetition. Other attractive ladies effortlessly distract me and my mind wanders while the person I am theoretically “getting to know better,” chats my ears off.
I hate hurting people; I hate to lead women on. I hate not being able to tell them that I am not interested. I don’t even know the best approach for these kinds of situations – so I shun them.
I know there may be a few people I’ve dated or hooked up with in the past who are avid readers of this confession space. Knowing that, sometimes limits the stories I want to write about; either they involve something that they did or it involves how I felt about them. I was serious I when I said I would not date any of my readers.
How can I when they would know all about me and judge me before I even got a chance to explain my Barbie experiments, the many girls I slept with, my social life, the parties I have to go to, the elaborate relationships I had in the past. How can I date someone who knows all about it?
Trust me, I am all about being truthful in a relationship. Sometimes, secrets are meant to be secrets. I like being anonymous. I like that some of my readers don’t know who I am. I like the anonymity.
I’d like to keep it that way.
There were times when I wanted to start all over, a new blog, a new mystery lady. But I just couldn’t retire Confessions of a NYC lezie. This is who I am. Some of you judge my life and others compliment my writing style. Thank you to both.
And so, if you know me – either you are my friend, and ex-lover or someone I was “getting to know better”; it is your choice to stop reading. My quest to confess will thrive.
Get ready. This is a carte blanche. No mercy.
Posted in:
Dating,
Ex,
Friends,
New Start,
Thoughts
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At present, I know more gay and lesbian people than I ever have before. When I was younger, I was often the lone blip of homosexuality in our heterosexual world. By choice? By circumstance. Interesting times, those. It was all good.These days I'm surrounded. It's been gradual, this expansion of my cultural vista. It's not sole source, either. I meet lesbians and gay men so often, in such a variety of circumstance, it has almost become commonplace. We are everywhere.A rumor hit the mill that two friends, heterosexual females, were "hooking up" with each other. Surprised me enough to merit a raised eyebrow while rousing my curiosity. Who doesn't love a little titillating gossip now and again! And of course it was titillating. Since when is news of any two friends of any gender hooking up not titillating? It could be love! Or at least good sex.Turns out the rumor was true. Not only were they hooking up then, but they are still a couple now. It's been over a year. At what point does "hooking up" turn into "having a romantic relationship" turn into "Hey world, I'm gay"?Lauren pinned the nickname "pseudos" on those friends of ours, a term of endearment if you will. Are they lesbians? Situational? Transitional? Who knows? Them least of all, maybe. Does it matter?She and I are fortunate to have friends who span generations { Wait I am not that old, am I?}. Some are solidly heterosexual, some solidly homosexual. Others are trying to figure out who they are. Toss in a handful who have no fucking clue and all bases are covered.What's a friend to do when a friend switches sexual teams? I know what my "friends" did when I traded up. Many of them fled. A few adapted. I'm an adapter. A friend is a friend. Life is hard enough without stressing over something as basic as who someone loves.
Posted in:
Dating,
GLBT,
Random Musings
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This morning I was trading e-mails with L.A. dude (because I have nothing else better to do - really), He has a girlfriend whom he adores and wants to eventually marry and procreate and have minis running around his white picket fence house in suburbia. Also he is parlaying this into a job as one of my non-paid therapist/counselors on issues of the same sex. As always, he was telling me to be bold and pick up the phone and I gave him a ton of reasons not to, which is one of my favorite things to do, next to working out and drinking wine.
He wrote “ it’s like going on a job interview, once the date is over, you need to follow up and thank her for having dinner and drinks.”
And because I am me: amusing, clever, charming and cute and all the nice words in the dictionary – combined with my boredom at work I had to write a sample of such a note.
Dear Madam –
Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I enjoyed speaking with you about your life and how my skills and experience would fit with your unmet relationship desires. Your intrepid dream for the future, coupled with your very adorable smile and height, makes you exactly the kind of woman to whom I would like to offer my services.
I am sure that I would surpass your expectations if given the chance to assume the position of Girlfriend. I understand that there is a trial period what will range from several dates to many months, depending on a combination of said skills. During this period, I will be acting as a freelancer, keeping my options open to explore girlfriend alternatives to ensure that you provide me with the greatest balance of comfort versus excitement. Once this training period is over and we have mutually determined our match, I expect full benefits and an investment on your part in my future happiness.
Should you have any further questions about my qualifications which are not limited to, micro-waving, kissing, being supportive, making you feel like a WOMAN when you are really acting like a two year old spoiled brat, back-rubbing, laughing at your lame jokes, listening and displaying an above-average knowledge of beer and a basic knowledge of lesbian terms, feel free to contact me by e-mail, cell, text message, blackberry, IM, Morse Code, pigeon messenger or smoke signal.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Many thanks,
NYC.Lezie
Posted in:
Dating,
Letters,
Random Musings
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At some point in our lives, we all have been guilty of having one or two rebound relationships. Rebounds are a safe way for us to let go of the person we were with and also an easier way to get our minds off of the ex.
But is a good thing?
I guess it depends on each person. Whether you like having someone there to constantly remind you that you are loved, or having someone there to make you feel better about being alone. Either way, to me, I think is ludicrous. It's like a puppy that needs constant love.
The other night I was having dinner with the writer, and we spoke about rebound girlfriends. We both admitted to having these affairs but we would have never admitted such actions at the time. I don’t think someone can sit here and say, yes, I kinda feel lonely; I want to be with someone…just for the hell of it. I sort of brush the subject to the side. I've had a few. I've had enough relationships to realize what is wrong and what is right.
It is called growth.
After each break ups, I found myself yearning for the same attraction and passion I shared with an ex, and to me, the only way I can end my search is to be with someone, not because I care about them but because I want to satisfy that hunger.
I think there might be a general rule of “how long you can stay single before you get involved with someone else”. I guess people would agree with me, the longer you wait, the better you will feel about yourself. You learn your faults and you look back at your previous relationship and see what went wrong. I think breaks (right after a break-up) are made for that.
Jumping from one relationship to another is like setting yourself up for another breakup because you are just going to repeat the same mistakes you've made with the ex. And it becomes a pattern.
I am neither a psychologist nor a therapist, but it doesn't take a genius to realize that people repeat the same mistakes when they don't sit down and think.
Jumping from one relationship to another is not a smart thing to do. It just proves to others that you are not happy being alone. There is nothing wrong with being alone. I think people need to be alone sometimes. It clears the mind. I am all for taking breaks.
I guess everyone moves on differently. Some fast and easy and others slowly.
"It takes no time to fall in love, but it takes you years to know what love is..."
so…
…Can I get an AMEN!
Posted in:
Dating,
Relationships
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I will admit that sometimes I have a tendency to live my life in major extremes. I can be terribly motivated or not so much, satiated with joy or crushed by despondency, excitedly optimistic or absurdly pessimistic.
I think we can all be a little like what I described. Of course not in a mentally unstable way – of course, but in a way that can be entertaining. For example – One day I am convinced that I will never date another woman again, I will never speak to the Pearl or that I will die alone in my bedroom surrounded by paraphernalia or collectables that creepy old ladies have in their living rooms and no one will know that I even existed.
And then there are days where I am so optimistic about my future that I am mentally monogramming towels for the guest bathroom and planning perfect outings and the perfect outfits and being annoyingly cheerful about the romantic road ahead.
Take the Pearl (who, it is worth noting, called. Of course I didn’t pick up. The last time I heard from her was last week – Wednesday. Really.) Something about tall girls with blonde hair sends me into a state of frenzied hopefulness that lasts until something crazy happens – like she disappears for good, or another woman does something so terribly stupid that I lose faith in the entire gender or someone I know announces that they are engaged/pregnant and I start mentally counting how many years I have left until I get too old to “do it”.
I haven’t quite decided if optimistic or pessimistic is easier for me – on one hand I am somewhat of a hopeless romantic who does want to believe that there is someone out there for me. On the other hand, I have dated some of the least eligible women in the tri-state area, been lied to, emotionally misled, made to feel inferior by some and generally creeped out by others. I could choose pessimism, and who would blame me? Conversely, I could plug my fingers in my ears and ignore the mounting evidence against happily ever after for a little longer, choosing instead to default to the fairy tale stories that nurtured my dreams as a child.
I try to maintain a balance – hopeful enough to stay open to a relationship, but cynical enough not to fall for the first lady who buys me a beer and checks out my ass. But I am constantly teetering between WOE is me and one day my Prince(ss) WILL come.
Posted in:
Dating,
Relationships
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I used to be the one people turned to and said Shane’s famous line from the Lword “you guys give me hope” – speaking about Tina and Bette. I hate to think about the one time I was the last hope for single lesbians because there was one time in my life that I was and truly believed in love but more importantly a relationship that would be sizzling forever. I also hate to think about the person I had it with because it replays every moment I once shared – the good times and even the bad ones, and then I say to myself “yes, I do believe in love and yes it can be forever.” I don’t constantly remind myself but it is there behind somewhere – hidden in the creases of my mind.
Then I look at the relationship Hope is currently in and I think “you guys give me hope”. From what I hear, they are absolutely in love with each other. I don’t know her partner well enough to judge her love or question her love for her. But I do know Hope and I know that she is the kind of person who falls in love –it may not be easily, but she falls deep and hard. Whatever you get from her, it comes from her heart and only from her heart.
I hate to look in future partners some of the qualities Hope has because it would make it harder for me to fall in love. I don’t fall in love easily. It is a known fact. But with every girl I was in a relationship with after Hope, they all had something similar or recognizable in Hope. Whether it was her kind heart, her love for music or the arts or simply a slight resemblance in her profound dark eyes or her dear affection to make a difference in other people’s lives. Every time, every single time I see her.
I am over her, I am over the relationship we had, I am over the person she is but I will always love her and have a special spot in my heart. It isn’t a shock to most people but others might not see why. It has been a little over two years – there are times when I can go months without thinking about her and there are other times (like lately) where I do think about her. It may just be the fact that people keep mentioning her name to me or people saw her and they report back to me (as if I wanted to hear that she was at this place or that place) I don’t miss Hope per se. I miss the feeling of being in love (although she wasn’t the only person I loved).
I’ve noticed, during the past two years, I’ve fallen for two people. I have also fallen out of love and it is the hardest thing to go through. I am approaching my mid 20’s – very soon and I can’t help but think “am I going to be the party lezzie of NYC the (what some people say) Brad Pitt of Lezzies? Am I going to be single and stay single? Am I ever going to be in stable relationship? Am I ever going to settle down?”
Don’t worry, I only think about it when I see my married friends or when my single ones exclaim “I’m engaged!!!!” This year alone, I am attending 3 weddings and one more baby shower. Just as I am getting used to the idea that my friends are in stable long term relationships, the singlehood period quickly befalls upon me, and once again I’m knocked out of my comfort zone. It’s normal right?
This blog is supposed to reveal some of my confessions. And here it one…behind the party girl, I am the single lezzie who worries about finding her soul-mate – wait, I don’t believe in soul-mate. OK fine, I worry about finding my Cinder-Angelina.
How many frogs will I have to kiss to find my princess?
Posted in:
Dating,
Ex,
Relationships
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I overheard a convo about crazy women in relationships. I didn't actually hear the stories but the point was what makes women so crazy? And how do you get rid of them? So it got me thinking about the crazy ones I had.First of all I am a recovering crazy woman, anyone who knew me when I was dating my ex, whom I like to affectionately refer to as the Pearl, knows that she drove me absolutely insane. Being a Gemini (me too), naturally she likes to mind fuck people, one minute telling you how wonderful you are and the next telling you that no one will ever want you - as she's slapping my ass on the way out the door. We broke up with each other about 20 times, each time describing another fault of mine/hers that meant we weren't soul mates. Which is how I became a cool girl – well I was always cool. After this debacle, I made my personal mantra to be "I have been single before and I will be single again – no biggie". Now this is not to discredit dating and love, it’s to save me from 14 months of crying, driving my female (but mostly male) friends crazy with anger and bitterness, and another 20 breakups. Women have a tendency to drive me to distraction with their careless and self-absorbed ways. If a girl shows too much attention, I lose interest and think they are too easy. Case in point, the last girl I dated, was totally enamored of me from the beginning, but because I wasn’t mutually engaged to the relationship, I stepped back. That's when it all went wrong, its like I could see the way my mind was working it out, "why does this girl like me so much, there must be something wrong with her". That's when it starts; I start looking at other girls and talking about other girls. Unbeknownst to me she was apparently too clingy (Friends give honest opinion after the fact) and I could do better. But this was the first time (since the break-up with Hope, my heart went totally crazy) I actually stop liking a girl because she really liked me back.But on the opposite hand, if a girl likes me too much, I become disgusted, and find them to be effeminate and weak minded. It’s this double-edged sword that dooms the sexes and drives everyone crazy. I hate when a girl that I am not interested in pursues me, it’s a waste of time and energy. The only way to combat it is to drive all our energy into something else – like buy me my drinks at the bar. This right here folks is why I am still single but at least I have a lot of hobbies and besides the fact that I am waiting for a woman who looks like Angelina Jolie – eh it’s a different story.Having a woman in my life is like a warm summer breeze in an otherwise chilly world. I love to be entertained, so therefore I date entertaining people. But in my own experience I have learned to set my expectations low and to treat each meeting as if it were the last, lets give thanks to the Pearl for this one. During my courtship with the ex, of whom I was very captivated by, I had to adopt a new theory. Be cool, be excellent, and be gone. Now while it did work, it didn't work well enough, because sometimes you can’t be too suave. I know its hard to believe that I, an adorable charming lezzie, could be so complacent, but I tell you I was. My point of this is I opened myself up to each new experience as if I were a carnival ride for women to enjoy while I felt uneasy and discontent. I let their interests and hobbies guide the relationship. It went so far as to each breakup felt like a release from the crazy girl box. And now I am trapped in this cool/suave girl box – where everyone wants to be my friend because I am funny and witty, and I have to express my craziness through drunkenness and inappropriate conversations.
I can never win.
Posted in:
Dating,
Love,
Relationships
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