Confessions.of.a.NYC.Lezie

Today marks the first year since the awful events of six years ago that I haven’t taken the day off from work /school (usually we had the day off) on September 11th.

And truth be told, I wanted to. It just wasn’t practical. That with missing a ton of work due to my grandfather’s death and the US open. I can’t really afford to take days off unless it’s an emergency (like going to Spain or Italy). Or a beautiful woman tells me she’s reserved a suite at the Mercer and wants to spend the day making crazy love to me as we lick champagne off of each other.

But seriously. I spent September 11th 2002—2007 with Friends and Family. We would always have breakfast early. Like, at 7:00 a.m. And in 2006, I went to the memorial ceremony, but it was just such a circus. There was some kind of fringe religious group walking through the crowds trying to get people to go to one of their services, and a ton of tourists milling around aimlessly. It was too much for us. And so, every year after that, my friends or Family and I would spend the day walking around lower Manhattan/or stay home and watch the ceremony on Television, reflecting on life and how lucky we were to be able to get together in this greatest of all cities, and how we would never leave. I even swore that, once new buildings were put up, I’d move my office there. And I joked that I’d keep a parachute under my desk, but no one ever doubted that my intentions were sincere. Because they all know that they were. And still are.

Things change, though. Last year, Boarding School Pal and I met for breakfast at a café near his apartment on the corner of Charles and Hudson. Where he had lived since 2000. And we wandered around for a while, until we finally had lunch at Bubby’s. But, as I’ve posted before, BSP has his own firm now and so after we ate he had to go to work. And I bid him goodbye and stayed in the East Village with L.

I had decided that I was going to take a nap for the afternoon. I was pretty tired from having gotten up so early and, honestly, the night before had been one of the first times I’d ever hooked up with L. And we’d stayed up pretty late.It was a beautiful day and, as I opened the window to let fresh air into her apartment, I heard the most glorious bagpipes. And they were coming from someplace nearby. They were playing a sad, mournful tune that went on without break for at least two hours. Possibly longer. And sitting there in her living room in this greatest of all cities, I wished I could’ve found whomever was playing. Because I wanted to either give this person a hug or buy them a drink.

And then I remembered that there’s a fire station nearby, on either 2nd or 3rd Streets between Avenues B and C. And shortly after that, the anonymous bagpiper hit one extremely sour note that seemed to float in the air for several minutes, before he or she just stopped playing entirely. And by then I didn’t feel like sleeping anymore.This year, for the first time since that awful day six years ago, I won’t be spending any time with BSP and his wife on 9/11. They live somewhere in CT now, after his former landlords bought him out of his lease so they could re-rent his stabilized apartment at an exorbitant, illegally high rent. I emailed him to see if he wanted to grab a coffee or a drink after work, but the only thing I heard back from him was something concerning a piece of business that we have together.

So, I’ll be at work today. Not the end of the world, but admittedly not how I really wanted to commemorate this significant event. But maybe I’ll stop in someplace local in the late afternoon for one quick drink.

Because I’m lucky. I lost nobody on that day back in 2001.

So whatever happens today, I’m going to be very conscious of the fact that it’s 9/11. A day that anybody who was in New York City at the time will always think of very differently from all other days. And which all Americans and citizens of the world know as a day that changed history in a lot of complicated ways.

But I’m also going to accept that this year won’t be like years past. Which is OK. This is what’s supposed to happen. Someday I’ll have my own partner and children, and I’ll be too concerned with work and getting the kids to school and the other mundane aspects of life to take a day to myself and just reflect.

But I’ll do that today.

While I still can.

Today marks the first year since the awful events of six years ago that I haven’t taken the day off from work /school (usually we had the day off) on September 11th.



And truth be told, I wanted to. It just wasn’t practical. What with missing a ton of work due to my grandfather’s death and the US open. I can’t really afford to take days off unless it’s an emergency (like going to Spain or Italy). Or a beautiful woman tells me she’s reserved a suite at the Mercer and wants to spend the day making crazy love to me as we lick champagne off of each other.



But seriously. I spent September 11th 2002—2007 with Friends and Family. We would always have breakfast early. Like, at 7:00 a.m. And in 2006, I went to the memorial ceremony, but it was just such a circus. There was some kind of fringe religious group walking through the crowds trying to get people to go to one of their services, and a ton of tourists milling around aimlessly. It was too much for us. And so, every year after that, my friends or Family and I would spend the day walking around lower Manhattan/or stay home and watch the ceremony on Television, reflecting on life and how lucky we were to be able to get together in this greatest of all cities, and how we would never leave. I even swore that, once new buildings were put up, I’d move my office there. And I joked that I’d keep a parachute under my desk, but no one ever doubted that my intentions were sincere. Because they all know that they were. And still are.


Things change, though. Last year, Boarding School Pal and I met for breakfast at a café near his apartment on the corner of Charles and Hudson. Where he had lived since 2000. And we wandered around for a while, until we finally had lunch at Bubby’s. But, as I’ve posted before, BSP has his own firm now and so after we ate he had to go to work. And I bid him goodbye and went up to midtown.



I had decided that I was going to take a nap for the afternoon. I was pretty tired from having gotten up so early and, honestly, the night before had been one of the first times I’d ever hooked up with L. And we’d stayed up pretty late.It was a beautiful day and, as I opened the window to let fresh air into her apartment, I heard the most glorious bagpipes. And they were coming from someplace nearby. They were playing a sad, mournful tune that went on without break for at least two hours. Possibly longer. And sitting there in her living room in this greatest of all cities, I wished I could’ve found whomever was playing. Because I wanted to either give this person a hug or buy them a drink.



And then I remembered that there’s a fire station nearby, on either 2nd or 3rd Streets between Avenues B and C. And shortly after that, the anonymous bagpiper hit one extremely sour note that seemed to float in the air for several minutes, before he or she just stopped playing entirely. And by then I didn’t feel like sleeping anymore.This year, for the first time since that awful day six years ago, I won’t be spending any time with BSP and his wife on 9/11. They live in somewhere in CT now, after his former landlords bought him out of his lease so they could re-rent his stabilized apartment at an exorbitant, illegally high rent. I emailed him to see if he wanted to grab a coffee or a drink after work, but the only thing I heard back from him was something concerning a piece of business that we have together.



So, I’ll be at work today. Not the end of the world, but admittedly not how I really wanted to commemorate this significant event. But maybe I’ll stop in someplace local in the late afternoon for one quick drink.



Because I’m lucky. I lost nobody on that day back in 2001.



So whatever happens today, I’m going to be very conscious of the fact that it’s 9/11. A day that anybody who was in New York City at the time will always think of very differently from all other days. And which all Americans and citizens of the world know as a day that changed history in a lot of complicated ways.



But I’m also going to accept that this year won’t be like years past. Which is OK. This is what’s supposed to happen. Someday I’ll have my own partner and children, and I’ll be too concerned with work and getting the kids to school and the other mundane aspects of life to take a day to myself and just reflect.



But I’ll do that today.



While I still can.

Oh sweet Lord. The Wife was unbearably adorable. She actually made fun of me for not drinking enough. Meanwhile, my alleged friend sat there, mostly immobile, picking at his bok choy throughout lunch.

Midway through the meal, when The Wife went to the bathroom, I announced “I really like her.” The Writer and the husband vigorously nodded in agreement while The Writer
sort of laughed at the table. This is when I realized I was angry at him. My alleged friend had been hiding from me for two years and the lunch was making it very difficult to pretend everything had been The Wife’s fault. Maybe insecure, controlling wives drink martinis and tell you about the time they passed out in front of their mother-in-law’s house but it seemed unlikely. So I leaned over to my alleged friend and whispered in my best I-really-mean-it voice, “I like her more than you.” Then I avoided him for the rest of the day which was difficult, since I was sitting next to him, but somehow possible.

Hopefully I hurt his feelings but I am guessing he thought I was joking.

On Friday night, I just wanted to go home and relax. But stupidly, I’d let my friend Jew talk me into going on a blind date with a friend of hers.

We’d been at Happy Hour on Tuesday night, and she’d been asking me about my love life. And I explained to her that I was happy being single and, while I wanted to be in a relationship again, it had to be right. With somebody I got to know well and took my time with. And I was in no hurry about it.

Jew stated that she had the perfect person for me, and would I be interested in having a drink with her friend sometime soon? I said thanks, but that I’d pass. I hate blind dates. In fact, if you’re wondering why I’m referring to what eventually happened this past Friday as the second worst date ever, it’s because the most awful one that I've ever had was also a blind date. It took place about 3 years ago, and was just miserable. I’ll post it sometime, because, if nothing else, it really is a hilarious story. But now is not the time.

But Jew would not be deterred. And since she’s a good friend and I was under the influence of a few vodka and tonics with lime, I caved. I said I’d be working late on Friday, but that I could meet for a quick drink. I rattled off the name of a low key wine bar near work, and said she should have her friend email me. Which is what happened on Wednesday. I exchanged a few brief emails with Jew’s friend and said we could grab one quick glass of wine on Friday night. The reply came back agreeing that would be fine, since she’d be at a Fashion Week party until about 10:00 p.m., anyway.

Now, maybe you’ve been on dates before where you didn’t want to go in the first place. But you went because a close friend talked you into it while you were drunk. Honestly, Friday I just wanted to lounge around and watch a movie. But I found myself in a very crowded midtown wine bar, nursing a lovely Sicilian red as I waited for Jew’s friend to show up. And I thoroughly ignored the nasty looks from people eying the empty stool beside me at the bar that I was saving for my date as I tried to stay awake.Jew’s friend eventually showed up. And not only was she already hammered, but she was dressed in an outfit that was completely inappropriate for anything other than a leather fetish party. And it was seriously revealing. And totally out of place for this establishment.

But I told myself that, OK, she’s just come from a Fashion Week party so I should give her the benefit of the doubt.And then we began to chat. Or, rather, she began to chat for about an hour and a half and I would occasionally try to answer a question when she’d pretend to be interested in what I thought about something or about my background. For example, she went on for about twenty minutes about what a great cook she was and seemed to list every single recipe she’s capable of making.

I was thinking about tennis. And tennis - only. And what a great guitarist Johnny Marr had been with the Smiths. And how I hadn't been to see a movie in an actual cinema in a while. And so on.But jew’s friend finally asked me what kinds of foods I liked, and I began to answer and then she interrupted me and went on and on about fifty other things for an eternity. And she reiterated that she liked to cook in a very suggestive way. I guess the implication was that if I were to date her, she’d cook for me a lot. But spending time in a kitchen with this woman seemed like a fate more horrible than I’d wish on anybody other than Tango. And even then I wasn’t sure.

So, I’ll spare you the details. She just talked forever and ever. And I watched her with what was probably a look of utter boredom. And I don’t think I have to tell you that there’s nothing I enjoy more than a good conversation. I like getting to know people. But this was so insanely one sided.

Finally, at 11:30 p.m., I couldn’t take it anymore. I lied and said I had to be up early to... well, I just had to be up early. Being a gentle-lady, I paid for the drinks anyway. With cash, so we wouldn’t have to wait for the overworked bartender to run my card. And then outside I stupidly lit a cigarette, because Jew’s friend bummed one from me. So I was trapped for another ten minutes. And then she asked me if I wanted to get one more drink. Or if she could come home with me to meet my new kitten.

I was tempted to tell her that the Cat had rabies and that he might attack her if she came over, but I didn’t want to besmirch his reputation like that. I just said that it wasn’t a good night, and put her in a cab without promising to call her again. Because I never, ever will.

Even if there’s a major snowstorm and she has the only supply of canned goods in NYC.

It just wouldn’t be worth it to survive a natural disaster under those circumstances.

My male (completely platonic - duh!) best friend from boarding school recently had the nerve to find a serious girlfriend, disappear completely, and subsequently marry said girlfriend. I have seen him exactly once since he met this woman and that was at the wedding.

For the two years prior to the Big Day, all I got was the occasional trying-to-stay-in-touch e-mail. Obviously I had to assume that this wife character was a horrible, evil bitch who not only forbade my friend to see me but was really, really fat. However, The Wife has apparently achieved some sense of wedded security because I'm going out to dinner with my friend, and The Wife tomorrow.

Now that eating overpriced Pad Thai with The Wife is imminent, I am forced to confront a series of uncomfortable facts:

a. The Wife is not actually fat.
b. Unless she dieted for the wedding and now has put it all back on!
c. But no matter what she looks like my friend is in love with her, and they are married, which means she is the most important person in his life. I need to respect that. But it's hard to respect it when The Wife hates me.
d. The Wife hates me because she thinks I’ll be a girl-bitch and say snide things and try to compete with her which I’m totally going to do.

So...The Wife is actually right to hate me. See? Uncomfortable.

Even worse was when The Writer tried to fuck with my head by saying “How do you know it’s her fault he never sees you?”But I can't think like that, I can only be angry at one dinner companion at a time. So I invited her to come along (great for being bitchy to females when needed) and bought a new dress (security blanket).

Just as I spent the college years worrying what ladies thought of me, I am apparently going to spend the post-college years obsessing over them.

you see, I have been pretty busy these days. less time for me to blog and update you with my fabulous life. blame it on the US open (so gay - yay!) and NYC Fashion Week.

but, I wanted to share a few things that made me happy recently...

1) go pick up /netflix/rent/download/steal "Amour de Femme" - french lesbian flick...amazing!!!! i am in love with (always been) Helene Filliere.

2) There is a new book out - Hack. her name is Melissa Plaut. so pick it up. its interesting.

ok. I need to head out. CIAO

This kept me going for a whole hour.

Me: I need to marry some rich woman or have a sugar mama to pay off my student loans for me. I am highly considering an older woman. Believe it or not!
M: less drama. I wont spend money on going out...decent sex...housing...pretty sweet deal
Brooklyn: I have actually considered a sugar momma but I don’t think I would be happy I need to be the breadwinner...no way really tell me about her
M: I haven’t met her yet. Are you kidding? U r such a homo...the bread winner
B: ooo damn i got excited 4 u lol.... shut up and yes, yes i am...
M: so u better find urself a little lezzie who likes that
B: lol I’m sure some woman out there would love to be a trophy wife
M: haha. I want to be a trophy wife. That’s my goal. actually…become a writer and a trophy wife with three kids and they all play tennis or soccer.
M: and a dog name Sophie
M: and a cat - Cinderella
M: yeah. I got it all planned out
B: lol ok well there has to be some1 else out there.... and 3 kids no way. Where r u living since u have everything else planned
M: a brownstone in the West Village. And a summerhouse in the Adirondacks
M: this is going to make my blog… just an FYI
B: lol that’s fine lol I like the brownstone idea but do u really want to raise ur kids in the city?
M: yes. Best private FRENCH schools
B: that’s cool then u and her better make a nice salary
M: well yeah. See that’s the problem. She needs to make lots of money...cause writing is not going to pay for my expensesB: lol so u need a lawyer/doctor/business woman.....some1 like that

There is more. but i am just too lazy to edit it.