Confessions.of.a.NYC.Lezie

To those of you in happy relationships or excited about your third or fourth date with somebody special who makes your eyes light up and time stand still… I hope you get gonorrhea tonight. Seriously. I know, I know, I sound bitter but I just really hate Valentine’s Day. I either manage to completely fuck it up or else I’m stone cold single.

Weird, right? It’s like, you know the old cliché that states that everybody wants to find a love interest during the summer and is looking to pair up? But for whatever reason, summer is usually a pretty barren season for me. Love-wise. On the flip side, the arrival of darkness at 3:00pm, winter jackets, chapped hands and frozen faces seems to signal that I’ll be getting some. Soon.

That’s right. For whatever reason, I always seem to do better with women during the colder months. Except, you know, during Valentine’s Day. Why this is, I don’t know. But it appears to be so.

Case in point: as I posted previously, the woman that I’ve been out on two dates with told me she had plans when I asked her out for Valentine’s Day. And she still hasn’t responded to the email I sent to her on Sunday, thanking her for dinner. She did, however, include me on a mass email that she sent to about 10 friends. And which was really pretty unfunny. It had pictures of grotesquely ugly women on it and was entitled Why Some Women Stay Single. And I called her on Tuesday night, but got her voicemail. The kind where it goes straight to voicemail as though a person's phone is turned off, and not where somebody looks down at their Caller ID, sees your number and gets a feeling somewhere between disappointment, dread and guilt in their stomach before sending you to leave a message. I think perhaps she might have stumbled upon this site and read our date reviews. Yikes!

Anyway, maybe she isn’t ditching me. But I have to ask a little bit… what the fuck?And I had a weird dream about Hope the other night. I was at her house, which she shared with some roommate who doesn’t exist in real life. I felt awkward, and she obviously felt strange having me there. I was staying the night, not with Hope but as a kind of houseguest. Why, I have no idea. The thing was that she was already married. But she didn’t like her (yes it is in fact the girl she is madly in love at the moment) because she was a little overbearing and pushing things on her plate – like buying a house, getting married. Like everything was set in some alternate universe where 2008 had the social conventions of an Edith Warton novel.

Anyway, Hope’s wife came home. In the dream. I don’t think I ever described what her partner (in real life) looks like…but anyway, she looks like Shakira but not really…there is something definitely off about this girl, but overall she isn’t ugly. And Hope and her were obviously in love. And there I stood, watching like an idiot, as they kissed hello in the dream. I was the dumbass sleeping in the guest bedroom.And then I woke up. I had to lie in bed for a minute as I pondered the dream. I mean, I also didn’t get up because it was freezing and I didn’t feel like getting out from under the covers. But I suddenly remembered that wonderful, unique way that Hope’s hair smelled in real life. And I felt sad for a second. Which is weird. I don't want to get back together with her or anything. I guess it was just some sort of vague longing for something from the past. Kind of a pathetic version of a Proustian moment.And then I told myself to stop being such a goddamned wussy.

I turned over and went back to bed.


Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.

Is it bad that I am totally head over heels for someone who works in my department? Let me explain:

Let’s call her Model. There is a story behind this but first let me tell you how her and I found each other, or rather I found her. Model and I started working around the same time (I started a week before she did). When I first saw her (during interview times) I found her to be just like anybody else I know – Tall, dumb and blonde. For the first 6 months or so, I didn’t pay attention to her – I am someone who takes time to really like someone, because I study them, I see all their flaws and all the good things. Her package is totally good and no flaws (perhaps I am just telling myself that). So back to the first few months; She was just a normal girl who works in my dept, I saw her everyday, meeting here and there, drinks after work and all. But not until recently (3 or 4 months) I started to talk to her – more like, I made fun of her for being really shy, or I laugh when she blushes – typical of me (when I like someone – so childish). She in facts returns the favor by poking fun or rolling her eyes at me. I dig it. Trust

So Model and I have this insane connection where she got me all weirded out man. I am not known to be shy, but for some reason I am sometimes shy.

Lets discuss.

Pros:

She is amazingly beautiful – shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes, tall (5’8), super slim (she does her yoga – sexy), she has a very (very) good sense of style – very trendy with a mix of preppy-button down, and sweater around the neck.

She lives in Midtown – Easy access to all major fine dinning and trash bars available at any hour of the night AND easy access to work – less than 5 minutes.

Did I say she was stunning?

She went to Harvard – Journalism major.

She is only 2 years older than I am.

Cons:

She’s totally straight. Had a boyfriend all her life.

She works with me. Typical “you don’t eat where you shit”

She’s straight – that is the most heartbreaking thing to hear.

Overall, She has no idea that I have a giant crush on her. So the flirting remains on a PG level. Maybe I need to really take her out one night and really get some dirt. Maybe she is the kind of girl who kisses other girls…you know... just for fun.

Hey, if Hope (the ex) ended up dating some straight girl for 2 years plus (and still are happily dating – from what I’ve heard) I’m sure I can do the same with this Model of mine.

Cross your fingers. I’m inviting her to that Halloween Party I told you about.

I sat in the middle rows, not too far from the stage since I wanted to hear everyone loud and clear. The show started with a couple of artists who weren’t up to par with the next act.

The 5’2 young college student came on stage and belted, “his eye is on the sparrow”. My stomach dropped, my mouth watered, my eyes glued to her, my heart was melting and every hair on my body were as hard as a porcupine’s back. Not only was I amazed at her capability to sing but also I felt every note she was projecting and so began a long crush with Hope.

Hope had a girlfriend on campus and everyone was aware of it. I knew that my chances were extremely slim as they were utterly in love with each other. Whatever feelings I felt were there and obvious – I smiled and looked away when I saw her, I talked about her all the time and I’d ask people about her. It wasn’t something I could have avoided and buried. During the course of the semester, I would see her around campus with her friends and girlfriend in her arms and my heart would just ache. What I wanted more than anything was the happiness and the love they both shared.

The remaining of the semester I had given up on Hope and I had moved on and I was seeing The Tennis Player.

She and I met through mutual friends and immediately clicked. We exchanged AIM and phone numbers and thus began a week of constant text messages, emails and long phone conversations. And by the second or third day, they started to get pretty smutty. And Tennis Player said she wanted to see me. And so I decided to visit to her– about an hour from where I went to school. And we went over our schedules together, and decided that two weekends from now worked out perfectly for both of us. We were both really excited, and I began to plan our weekend. What we’d do during the day. Like any new juvenile “getting to know you” relationship, we opt for a movie at her place. We talked for hours about how much we liked each other.


And then they just stopped. And the text messages and emails no longer came in. And I was puzzled, but just thought that maybe she was busy at school. And one night, I decided to go to her AIM profile. Which were just photos of her and friends goofing off, getting drunk, driving around and that kind of thing.

And the most recent entry was four days old. It consisted of photos from a party at her School. And in almost all of them, Tennis Player and some girl who looked to be over thirty had their arms around each other. The girl had wrinkles and looked like she smoked for years. And her clothes looked old and cheap. And I didn’t hear from Tennis Player for several days after that. And one day, I clicked on her profile and she had written about being in a relationship. I knew then, I wouldn’t be welcomed at her place for a fun, sex filled weekend. Out of the blue, she messages me to tell me that she had met somebody and it had gotten serious pretty quickly and she hoped that I wouldn’t be mad.

And that was that.

My sophomore year began, Hope had broken up with her girlfriend over the summer and her and I began to chat…

To be continued

In the beginning, everything is a mystery. When Hope and I started dating, started to learn each others’ likes and dislikes, our personality glitches and our idiosyncrasies, it seemed the learning curve was steep. “How do you take your coffee?” I asked, the first time we went to the Dinner – not even sure if she liked coffee. I approached each question with rabid curiosity hoping to learn more about this woman with whom I was falling in love.

Within the first few months, certain things became apparent: Hope hated fried food, had to sleep with her hair down ( I pulled mine in a bun), hated small talk, was ferociously loyal, was a talker not an AIM person, loved dogs and loved adventure. In the beginning you store this information like pieces of a puzzle, trying to construct, in your own mind, the full picture of the person.I didn’t take too long to piece Hope together, to be able to get a clear picture of who she is and to anticipate her actions. In the year that we have lived together (part-time, my place and the other half hers), I have learned her inner-workings, what makes her tick. I was pretty sure there were no more mysteries.

Hope can fall into a deep sleep for 15 minutes after work, awake without an alarm and have the energy to do her tae bo or her abs of steel. She was never late. Hope folds her t-shirts and underwears, instead of shoving them like sausages into the drawer. “You get more room this way,” she claims. She refuses to go to the beach without sunblock, even when I tell her that we wont burn, “I am olive. I don’t burn. It’s greasy, forget it.” Sure enough, hours later with angry red skin and a nasty tan, I inform her that she was right. Also, she will never trade dessert (at Cafe Lalu) for anything.

Now, with each gf I had, I had to learn each and everyone of them. Surely every single one was different. The Pearl was basically my twin – highly opinionated and defensive, loves a good beer and conversation and laughs at practically any joke thrown at her. The Gym Addict was a different and probably the hardest to learn but during the short months that we were together I managed to know that she hated girl cut tee-shirts, she loves sushi and is overly sentimental.

Perhaps it was the time Hope and I spent together that made me piece the puzzle to form the complete picture or perhaps it was just me eager to learn more about this amazing woman. And even with The Pearl (2 years together), I wanted to know everything about her. Coming from similar backgrounds, it made it easier for me to understand who she was. But, I feel with every break up, the puzzle pieces crumble and the picture vanishes.

I don’t know Hope anymore (as much as I am telling myself I still do). I don’t know what bothers her, what ticks her, what makes her smile anymore.

All I know is that when she makes up her mind about something or someone – you can’t try to change it.

I guess there will always be some surprises with Hope. (that’s one thing I liked about her)

Sometimes, late at night, when I’m tired, I get kind of loopy. It’s a little bit like being drunk. I get sentimental, and can be prone to doing things like calling people, sending text messages that are hopefully slicker than the ones I get from [annoying texter] or emailing people that I not only really shouldn’t, but saying things that I should probably wait until morning for in order to make sure that the content won't embarrass me.

It’s the drunken equivalent of sending a late night text message to some girl who broke up with you and telling her that you love her or you want to come over to her place. Except that, instead of alcohol, it's just me running on far too little sleep.Needless to say, doing things like this is not always a smart move.

Friday night, I was absolutely exhausted. I don’t always get a lot of sleep from Monday through Friday and this week has been no exception. It’s been work, work, work and more work.Before going to bed sometime after 1:00 a.m., I was so tired that I was almost dizzy.

Having a late night coffee (it helps me fall asleep – believe it or not), I began typing the names of people from my past into the search function of myspace. Now, looking at profiles on myspace is a bit different than on other sites, primarily because you can’t see somebody’s contacts unless you’re already friends with them or their profile isn’t blocked. And as far as pictures, if you are not friends and they are blocked you can only see their first picture – which initially isn’t that bad.You may not be surprised to find out that my second grade teacher isn’t on myspace.

But, amongst somebody else from my past whom I’m not going to mention because I haven’t told that story yet, I found E. her profile features a cute picture of her and her niece. Smiling. As her hair is being whipped about by the wind.

And E. and I still haven’t been in touch for months – perhaps even years, really. It’s been about a year now since I last saw her. And checking out her profile made me miss her. And, as I said, I was seriously over tired. So, I thought about it for a second, and decided to shoot her an email. Hey, it never hurts to try (and try and try and try), right?Here’s what I wrote:

Hey

I know this may be a surprise or even a shock to you (as it was for me to grow a pair and actually write this) I had the occasion to chat with an old friend of ours – Aisha who asked for you. And so I wanted to say hello.

So hope all is well and best regards to your family.

Ciao,

NYC.Lezie

I sent it to an email address I had. And of course, the email bounced back. I figured she changed her email address and so, no luck. I really don’t want to send her a message over on myspace – I don’t want to seem like a loser.

Lately, it has been day after day of the mundane and the tedious. I’ve never professed to have the most exciting, interesting life in the world. I do, however, usually keep myself pretty well entertained between my family and friends, writing and assorted social exploits.

I’ve always said that one of the best things about being an adult is that no one is standing there telling you what to do, what not to do or how silly doing something you’re doing is. I talk a big talk about not having to go out when I don’t want to. About having as many friends as anyone could dream of having.

But, you know, being an adult really does suck. I should be going out and party more. And meeting new people and cultivating new friendships isn’t bad. And I shouldn’t stay up so late.

I don’t feel as in control of my body, my diet, my schedule, my chores, my finances, my free time, my laundry, my future, my present, my hair. Myself.

Just writing that out feels like a first step.

On the other hand, I am out in D.C. on business. I am of course with my intern whom I have never seen in a pinstripe suit until this morning – I complimented her 4 times. Only 4.

And again, today is August 1 - It means three things for me.

1) My student loans are due
2)Rent is fucking due
3) It is Hope's birthday. (I looked at my phone this morning for an hour +, trying to figure out if I should send her a birthday text. – after an hour, I said fuck it. I wont)