I love my work girls, and I like going out, so last winter when one of my friends from work said she was going to a bar to hang out with her friend who was DJing I of course said I wanted to tag along. When we walked in I remember thinking the bartender was cute in a shaved head, thuggish, little, older guy kinda way. I just didn't realize to what extent this first impression was true...
It was just me and my friend and she did a good job of running back and forth between the dj booth and the bar, but I still spent a decent amount of time by myself at the bar. So the bartender befriended me by way of good conversation and free drinks so when he asked for my number at the end of the night I thought what the heck? He was in his late 30s which was a litle older than I like but I figured I'd make an exception since he'd basically covered my entire bar tab for the night and I was still trying out this whole being single thing.
So we agreed to go out like a week later and I was supposed to meet him on the corner in union square. For those of you not familiar with new york there isn't a single corner in union square where there will ever be less than 20 people standing on it at a time. So embarassing moment number #1: I didn't recognize him. He had to literally walk all the way over to me as I stared at him and reintroduce himself before I was sure it was him. Why didn't I recognize him? Cuz he was probably 5'4". Apparently the area behind the bar was raised so while I thought he was a good 6 inches taller than me, turns out he was basically standing on a 10 inch step the entire night.
Embarrasing/uncomfortable moment #2: He starts going off on astrology stuff for at least 30 minutes and I think all that stuff is such BS that I couldn't even fake an interest in it. He started trying to diagnose my dad based on his sign and just kept saying stuff that was 100% opposite of my dad and I couldn't even be nice and pretend like he was close. I think this bruised his ego a little bit cuz then he launched into his film credits which obviously redeemed him in my eyes cuz I am shallow when it comes to anything celeb related. Turns out he's been on Law and Order, The Wire, and NYPD Blue, every time playing super complex characters like "hitman #1" or "running thug". This should give you some clue as to what he looked like...
Embarrasing moment #3/final straw: We get to talking about the age difference and he goes "So I have to admit I sort of lied to you last week" And I'm like "ummm okay, well you never told me exactly how old you were so I know you're in your late 30s..." and he replies "well, yeah, I'm actually not in my 30s anymore, I turned 40 a few months ago". Now I realize that the difference from 39 to 40 really isn't that big but the thought of telling my mom "hey, let me introduce you to my 40 year old boyfriend" just didn't fly. So I pulled the old "oh wow, it's almost 10??? Waaaaay past my bedtime, I gotta go home!" and that was the last of my 40 year old, typecast thug, dating experience.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Planes, Trains and Automobiles- Part 3
I realize that normally you would start with part 1 and 2, but part 3 is the most recent and least complicated and easiest for me to jump back into the bloggosphere with.
So last Saturday I was on my way to wonderful Washington to celebrate the holidays with my fam and friends (sooo good to see all you Seattle girls! Sorry you've all pretty much heard this story already). My mom being the thrifty (i.e. cheap) lady she is booked me a flight out of Newark so we could save on the ticket, but the lovely side effect of that was that I had to either pay $100 for a cab, or get the shared ride shuttle thing for $27. Since I wanted to be able to afford Christmas presents for the people I love I opted for the $27, 15 person van-o-fun. They don't want anyone to miss their flight so they latest they would pick me up for my 8:45 flight was 5:15. Puke. Anywho, so I decided it'd be a great idea to go out with my New York friends one last time before heading home, so after getting a solid 2 hours of sleep I got loaded into the van and headed to Newark. (Note: this entire last paragraph is basically meant to make an excuse that I was tired, and cranky, and not thinking entirely clearly by the time I finally got on the flight. Please don't judge...)
After killing 2.5 hours at the airport I finally got into my lovely window seat and took out my magazines and was all settled in, when the lady next to me asked if I'd switch seats with her 3 year old daughter so they could sit together. Being in the Christmas spirit and too sleep deprived to think about asking where her daughter's seat was I said "Sure!" and repacked my bag and got ready to move. "She's in 29B by the way" the lady told me. Middle seat. Awesome. Oh, middle seat in the very last row with no reclining seat? Even better. And you're gonna leave the back door open while you load the catering in, and you have no blankets and it's like 17 degrees out? Wonderful, thank you.
At this point I'm clearly not in a good mood so I put my hood, gloves, and scarf on and migrated to the empty window seat hoping that maybe God would be nice and decide to just leave the middle seat empty for us. Nope. The very last person on the plane is this army dude who obviously has the window seat. So I move back to the middle and plan on being cold and grumpy for the rest of the ride. Buuuut turns out army guy is kinda cute. And he'd stolen a blanket from his last trip so he offered it to me which earned him some brownie points. I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, or borderline hypothermia (fine I'm exagerating but it was cold), or maybe I just have a thing for meeting guys while on public transportation (hence this being part 3 of my planes, trains, and automobiles story), but next thing I know we're sharing headphones listening to country music on his ipod and taking turns typing stupid flirty messages on his itouch. 6 hours in a tiny airplane seat, with no food, no good movies (Aliens in the Attic doesn't count), and no blankets (thank you continental) gets you awfully cozy with your seatmate. Somewhere along the lines I find out 2 important pieces of info about my army guy: 1) He's a huge hick, and admittedly so. 2) He's 19. For real. And not even like 19 almost 20, more like he won't be able to have a beer in public for another year and a half. But this doesn't stop me from agreeing to kiss him when the poor guy in the seat next to me gets up (I'm sure his flight sucked even worse than mine cuz he had to deal with us being obnoxious and flirty for 6 hours). I'm sorry Mr. 29C!
So there you have it folks. I can cross 2 things off my list and never ever do them again:
1) make out with a guy on an airplane. Done.
2) make out with a guy more than 5 years YOUNGER than me. I don't know how Demi does, I really think the whole age gap thing is a one way street. I am clearly a very bad cougar.
So last Saturday I was on my way to wonderful Washington to celebrate the holidays with my fam and friends (sooo good to see all you Seattle girls! Sorry you've all pretty much heard this story already). My mom being the thrifty (i.e. cheap) lady she is booked me a flight out of Newark so we could save on the ticket, but the lovely side effect of that was that I had to either pay $100 for a cab, or get the shared ride shuttle thing for $27. Since I wanted to be able to afford Christmas presents for the people I love I opted for the $27, 15 person van-o-fun. They don't want anyone to miss their flight so they latest they would pick me up for my 8:45 flight was 5:15. Puke. Anywho, so I decided it'd be a great idea to go out with my New York friends one last time before heading home, so after getting a solid 2 hours of sleep I got loaded into the van and headed to Newark. (Note: this entire last paragraph is basically meant to make an excuse that I was tired, and cranky, and not thinking entirely clearly by the time I finally got on the flight. Please don't judge...)
After killing 2.5 hours at the airport I finally got into my lovely window seat and took out my magazines and was all settled in, when the lady next to me asked if I'd switch seats with her 3 year old daughter so they could sit together. Being in the Christmas spirit and too sleep deprived to think about asking where her daughter's seat was I said "Sure!" and repacked my bag and got ready to move. "She's in 29B by the way" the lady told me. Middle seat. Awesome. Oh, middle seat in the very last row with no reclining seat? Even better. And you're gonna leave the back door open while you load the catering in, and you have no blankets and it's like 17 degrees out? Wonderful, thank you.
At this point I'm clearly not in a good mood so I put my hood, gloves, and scarf on and migrated to the empty window seat hoping that maybe God would be nice and decide to just leave the middle seat empty for us. Nope. The very last person on the plane is this army dude who obviously has the window seat. So I move back to the middle and plan on being cold and grumpy for the rest of the ride. Buuuut turns out army guy is kinda cute. And he'd stolen a blanket from his last trip so he offered it to me which earned him some brownie points. I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, or borderline hypothermia (fine I'm exagerating but it was cold), or maybe I just have a thing for meeting guys while on public transportation (hence this being part 3 of my planes, trains, and automobiles story), but next thing I know we're sharing headphones listening to country music on his ipod and taking turns typing stupid flirty messages on his itouch. 6 hours in a tiny airplane seat, with no food, no good movies (Aliens in the Attic doesn't count), and no blankets (thank you continental) gets you awfully cozy with your seatmate. Somewhere along the lines I find out 2 important pieces of info about my army guy: 1) He's a huge hick, and admittedly so. 2) He's 19. For real. And not even like 19 almost 20, more like he won't be able to have a beer in public for another year and a half. But this doesn't stop me from agreeing to kiss him when the poor guy in the seat next to me gets up (I'm sure his flight sucked even worse than mine cuz he had to deal with us being obnoxious and flirty for 6 hours). I'm sorry Mr. 29C!
So there you have it folks. I can cross 2 things off my list and never ever do them again:
1) make out with a guy on an airplane. Done.
2) make out with a guy more than 5 years YOUNGER than me. I don't know how Demi does, I really think the whole age gap thing is a one way street. I am clearly a very bad cougar.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Dealbreakers: Guys with fake accents
I should have know this was a poor decision when I agreed to go out with a guy who asked me out via facebook. Granted I'd actually met him about 6 months earlier while I was out on a date with a different guy who happened to be friends with this guy's coworker and we all met up to watch a hockey game. Following me? Anyways...
So we went to a wine bar and had a good date and conversation where I learn that he has lived in Staten Island his whole life, to which I comment, "wow, I can't believe you don't have the stereotypical horrible New York accent?" And he explained his whole theory on accents about how kids pick them up over the summer when they're out with their friends all day, but since he was always gone over the summers (various reasons, unimportant) he never had the chance to pick one up. I complimented him on this and maybe somewhere subconsciously he thought I meant "You should use the most opposite accent of New York possible". Or maybe God just thought it would be funny to push my buttons.
We made it through 2 semi-normal good dates, and I definitely wasn't hooked, but at least liked this guy enough to think we could make it through an entire dinner. WRONG.
Problem 1) We order a pitcher of sangria and he asks the waitress for a shot of tequila on the side "in case we need to add it to the pitcher if it's not strong enough".
Seriously who does that? Even the waitress looked embarrassed for me.
Problem 2) I find out he's 31 and is like a super super super super senior, still trying to finish college, and working at a gym on the side.
Yaaaaay ambition.
Problem 3) Halfway through dinner he randomly starts using a British accent. Granted it's a great British accent but I kept wondering if this was to liven up a story, or make some kind of point, so I basically just stopped listening and waited for him to go back to his normal American voice. But that never happened. He kept up the accent for the next hour and half and didn't act like anything was even remotely strange. Looking back I obviously should have called him out on the instant British transformation but I didn't.
I sort of gave him vague reasons for being busy for a week after that, and then got a voicemail from him asking where I'd been, ALL IN A BRITISH ACCENT! I didn't return his call and vowed I would only talk to him again if he called me as a normal freaking person. Which he did after awhile so we went on a couple more normal dates, and then again, WHAM! British accent time! At this point I didn't even care to know the reason why he launches into alternate persona #2, so I told him I was gonna be really really busy with work and holidays and studying for tests (which maybe someday will be true), for the next four or five months. Not even a solid excuse but it was either that or "I'm moving to London". =)
Ironically a couple weeks later one of my coworkers came across an article called "15 Signs Your Boyfriend is Annoying" and yes ladies, #1- faking an accent. I rest my case. http://www.divinecaroline.com/22070/83198-fifteen-signs-boyfriend-annoying
So we went to a wine bar and had a good date and conversation where I learn that he has lived in Staten Island his whole life, to which I comment, "wow, I can't believe you don't have the stereotypical horrible New York accent?" And he explained his whole theory on accents about how kids pick them up over the summer when they're out with their friends all day, but since he was always gone over the summers (various reasons, unimportant) he never had the chance to pick one up. I complimented him on this and maybe somewhere subconsciously he thought I meant "You should use the most opposite accent of New York possible". Or maybe God just thought it would be funny to push my buttons.
We made it through 2 semi-normal good dates, and I definitely wasn't hooked, but at least liked this guy enough to think we could make it through an entire dinner. WRONG.
Problem 1) We order a pitcher of sangria and he asks the waitress for a shot of tequila on the side "in case we need to add it to the pitcher if it's not strong enough".
Seriously who does that? Even the waitress looked embarrassed for me.
Problem 2) I find out he's 31 and is like a super super super super senior, still trying to finish college, and working at a gym on the side.
Yaaaaay ambition.
Problem 3) Halfway through dinner he randomly starts using a British accent. Granted it's a great British accent but I kept wondering if this was to liven up a story, or make some kind of point, so I basically just stopped listening and waited for him to go back to his normal American voice. But that never happened. He kept up the accent for the next hour and half and didn't act like anything was even remotely strange. Looking back I obviously should have called him out on the instant British transformation but I didn't.
I sort of gave him vague reasons for being busy for a week after that, and then got a voicemail from him asking where I'd been, ALL IN A BRITISH ACCENT! I didn't return his call and vowed I would only talk to him again if he called me as a normal freaking person. Which he did after awhile so we went on a couple more normal dates, and then again, WHAM! British accent time! At this point I didn't even care to know the reason why he launches into alternate persona #2, so I told him I was gonna be really really busy with work and holidays and studying for tests (which maybe someday will be true), for the next four or five months. Not even a solid excuse but it was either that or "I'm moving to London". =)
Ironically a couple weeks later one of my coworkers came across an article called "15 Signs Your Boyfriend is Annoying" and yes ladies, #1- faking an accent. I rest my case. http://www.divinecaroline.com/22070/83198-fifteen-signs-boyfriend-annoying
Monday, December 14, 2009
Don't date the doorman
I am not the kind of girl who can go to a bar and whip out a witty pick up line with some cute guy and start a budding romance based off a couple vodka sprites and a game of beer pong. Instead I have to settle for meeting guys at the gym, or through friends of friends, or one of my personal favorites, public transportation (more on that some other day). But around June I made the mistake of dating my doorman at work.
Let me first say he was cute in that spikey haired, born and raised in Queens kind of way, and always really polite when he called to let me know my lunch delivery was in the lobby. So when he slipped me a note with his phone number on one of my daily lunch pick ups I was actually kind of interested. I agreed to meet him for drinks on a Friday night and after a shockingly successful first date I was thinking this had potential aside from the slightly awkward part about him being my doorman. But I figured as long as we kept things casual, and kept it on the DL at the office what harm could come from this?
Date #2 was pretty decent too, and we amped up the texting after that. Fast forward to the next weekend (so now we've been on 2 dates, made out once, and been talking for approximately 10 days, with nothing more forward than "you look cute today"). I go to Long Island City with my friend from work to shamelessly use our friend for his pool, cuz let's face it, no one wants to be in Manhattan when it's 100 degrees in the city. So Doorman and I are texting a little bit while I'm laying by the pool, and then my friend and I get back on the train to head home. So after this hour long trip in which I have no cell service I get out on the other side and see that I have 6 new text messages. I check the first and see that it's a pic message so I'm just wandering down the New York city sidewalks waiting for it to load when all of a sudden OMG!!! A VERY revealing pair of tighty whities appear on my screen! So naturally I start blushing and try to make sure no one has seen my phone as I go to the next message. MORE TIGHTY WHITIES! Long story short I have 6 pictures all of Doorman in various states of nakedness and seductive faces. Now I'm all for the text flirting, but I am a pretty awkward person in general and getting the pics from my doorman after 10 days was more than I could handle. So obviously the romance between me and Doorman is done, and I can't be the ONLY one at work to be awkward when showing my ID to get in the building so clearly I have to show my girls from work the offending pictures. Everyone is horrified in a "This is hilarious and I kind of love it but wow what a creepo" sort of way, and I feel like my job is done.
Unfortunately I couldn't bring myself to face Doorman again after trying to break things off via text message (the mature route), so now instead of waking up at my normal time and strolling into work around 8:15 I have to get up at 6am in order to shower and get down to work by 7:45 before they change shifts. I have also lost the ability to order from hale and hearty whenever I want it because I now have to participate in the group lunch order so I don't get stuck going down and picking up lunch and having a run in with Mr. Tighty Whities. Worst. So the lesson learned here: Never date your doorman!
Let me first say he was cute in that spikey haired, born and raised in Queens kind of way, and always really polite when he called to let me know my lunch delivery was in the lobby. So when he slipped me a note with his phone number on one of my daily lunch pick ups I was actually kind of interested. I agreed to meet him for drinks on a Friday night and after a shockingly successful first date I was thinking this had potential aside from the slightly awkward part about him being my doorman. But I figured as long as we kept things casual, and kept it on the DL at the office what harm could come from this?
Date #2 was pretty decent too, and we amped up the texting after that. Fast forward to the next weekend (so now we've been on 2 dates, made out once, and been talking for approximately 10 days, with nothing more forward than "you look cute today"). I go to Long Island City with my friend from work to shamelessly use our friend for his pool, cuz let's face it, no one wants to be in Manhattan when it's 100 degrees in the city. So Doorman and I are texting a little bit while I'm laying by the pool, and then my friend and I get back on the train to head home. So after this hour long trip in which I have no cell service I get out on the other side and see that I have 6 new text messages. I check the first and see that it's a pic message so I'm just wandering down the New York city sidewalks waiting for it to load when all of a sudden OMG!!! A VERY revealing pair of tighty whities appear on my screen! So naturally I start blushing and try to make sure no one has seen my phone as I go to the next message. MORE TIGHTY WHITIES! Long story short I have 6 pictures all of Doorman in various states of nakedness and seductive faces. Now I'm all for the text flirting, but I am a pretty awkward person in general and getting the pics from my doorman after 10 days was more than I could handle. So obviously the romance between me and Doorman is done, and I can't be the ONLY one at work to be awkward when showing my ID to get in the building so clearly I have to show my girls from work the offending pictures. Everyone is horrified in a "This is hilarious and I kind of love it but wow what a creepo" sort of way, and I feel like my job is done.
Unfortunately I couldn't bring myself to face Doorman again after trying to break things off via text message (the mature route), so now instead of waking up at my normal time and strolling into work around 8:15 I have to get up at 6am in order to shower and get down to work by 7:45 before they change shifts. I have also lost the ability to order from hale and hearty whenever I want it because I now have to participate in the group lunch order so I don't get stuck going down and picking up lunch and having a run in with Mr. Tighty Whities. Worst. So the lesson learned here: Never date your doorman!
Celebrity obsessions do not lead to good dates
So first I should warn you I am OBSESSED with celebrities. I read US Weekly every day while my coworkers are checking the Wall Street Journal and yahoo finance, I have every episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians on my DVR, and I'm still convinced that if I got the chance to meet Britney we would become instant BFFs or at least facebook friends.
So with that said...I was out one Saturday night at Southern Hospitality (okay, I actually was eating pizza across from Southern Hospitality, but close enough) when I noticed this guy and his friend looking at me and my friends. No contact was made during the pizza housing (we had priorities) but as we were leaving they started talking to us. I can't remember the exact events but somehow it came up that he worked for the NYPD and did security for Justin Timberlake and was working at the VMAs the next night. He promised he'd be able to get me into the show so of course I gave him my number and told him to call me without bothering to get any other details about him.
So the next night I'm supposed to meet up with him at this restaurant that he's part owner of so I show up at 7:35 (not bad for a 7:30 date) and he texts that he's running late but the manager is expecting me so just to go in. So I wait at the table for AN HOUR, while he keeps saying he's almost there (clearly I would have left if not for the thought of seeing Britney and Taylor Swift in a couple hours) and when he finally shows up he says he hit a car (seriously) on the way down so that's what took so long. Strike 1- you're an hour late. Strike 2- you're a bad driver. Luckily for him dinner is awesome and the homemade guacamole gets him out of the doghouse a little bit. We finish dinner and head over to Radio City where I expect we will waltz on up to the door and take our seat next to the celebrity of my choosing. Almost. The crowd goes back about 5 blocks and we meet up with another couple, and he leaves us to try to work his NYPD magic. We're there for ANOTHER HOUR but he keeps texting with updates making it sound like he's thiiiiis close to getting us in. The good news is the other girl I'm waiting with was a rockette so in my own mind, I can say I saw a celebrity...
Eventually we make it past round 1 of security and get to be right outside of radio city but not INSIDE where the beautiful people are. However 2 eventful things did happen:
1) Jay Z pulled up in his mayback (or something like that, I don't know but the guys were excited) and opened his window literally 2 feet in front of my face so I snapped a quick paparazzi pic before he closed it and zoomed off, probalby wondering who the creep taking pics through the window was.
2) Mark from So You Think You Can Dance season 4 walked out of the door I was standing next to and in my excitment I screamed "Oh my god, you were on Dancing with the stars right? I love you!" and he looked at me like I was a little crazy and said "no, actually so you think you can dance, but thanks" and ran off before I could explain that I really really did know he was.
Okay, so we wait through the entire show, the three of us on the outside and him on the inside claiming he was "looking for passes" so there's strike 3- not delivering on the promise of finding me celebrities. So most normal people would cut their losses after strike 3, but no, not me, I will power on and see if things get better from here! So to make up for the lack of celebrities NYPD guy says he will take me out for a drink to make up for it. No need to rehash the entire conversation but I find out that he is divorced and is the father to 2 children, the oldest whom is 16. Now I've tried to be open minded up til this point, but I am far closer to this guy's kid's age than his (I think he's 37 or something) so strike 4- eww that's just weird.
Between the strikes and the fact that it's now 1am on a Sunday and I generally go to sleep at 10, I say I'm ready to go home. As the perfect end to the perfect evening he loads me in his cop car, turns the siren on, and proceeds to drive me home via central park which is closed and entirely illegal.
End bad date #1.
So with that said...I was out one Saturday night at Southern Hospitality (okay, I actually was eating pizza across from Southern Hospitality, but close enough) when I noticed this guy and his friend looking at me and my friends. No contact was made during the pizza housing (we had priorities) but as we were leaving they started talking to us. I can't remember the exact events but somehow it came up that he worked for the NYPD and did security for Justin Timberlake and was working at the VMAs the next night. He promised he'd be able to get me into the show so of course I gave him my number and told him to call me without bothering to get any other details about him.
So the next night I'm supposed to meet up with him at this restaurant that he's part owner of so I show up at 7:35 (not bad for a 7:30 date) and he texts that he's running late but the manager is expecting me so just to go in. So I wait at the table for AN HOUR, while he keeps saying he's almost there (clearly I would have left if not for the thought of seeing Britney and Taylor Swift in a couple hours) and when he finally shows up he says he hit a car (seriously) on the way down so that's what took so long. Strike 1- you're an hour late. Strike 2- you're a bad driver. Luckily for him dinner is awesome and the homemade guacamole gets him out of the doghouse a little bit. We finish dinner and head over to Radio City where I expect we will waltz on up to the door and take our seat next to the celebrity of my choosing. Almost. The crowd goes back about 5 blocks and we meet up with another couple, and he leaves us to try to work his NYPD magic. We're there for ANOTHER HOUR but he keeps texting with updates making it sound like he's thiiiiis close to getting us in. The good news is the other girl I'm waiting with was a rockette so in my own mind, I can say I saw a celebrity...
Eventually we make it past round 1 of security and get to be right outside of radio city but not INSIDE where the beautiful people are. However 2 eventful things did happen:
1) Jay Z pulled up in his mayback (or something like that, I don't know but the guys were excited) and opened his window literally 2 feet in front of my face so I snapped a quick paparazzi pic before he closed it and zoomed off, probalby wondering who the creep taking pics through the window was.
2) Mark from So You Think You Can Dance season 4 walked out of the door I was standing next to and in my excitment I screamed "Oh my god, you were on Dancing with the stars right? I love you!" and he looked at me like I was a little crazy and said "no, actually so you think you can dance, but thanks" and ran off before I could explain that I really really did know he was.
Okay, so we wait through the entire show, the three of us on the outside and him on the inside claiming he was "looking for passes" so there's strike 3- not delivering on the promise of finding me celebrities. So most normal people would cut their losses after strike 3, but no, not me, I will power on and see if things get better from here! So to make up for the lack of celebrities NYPD guy says he will take me out for a drink to make up for it. No need to rehash the entire conversation but I find out that he is divorced and is the father to 2 children, the oldest whom is 16. Now I've tried to be open minded up til this point, but I am far closer to this guy's kid's age than his (I think he's 37 or something) so strike 4- eww that's just weird.
Between the strikes and the fact that it's now 1am on a Sunday and I generally go to sleep at 10, I say I'm ready to go home. As the perfect end to the perfect evening he loads me in his cop car, turns the siren on, and proceeds to drive me home via central park which is closed and entirely illegal.
End bad date #1.
Single in the City
Hi everyone! Or one or maybe two of you who are actually reading this... After watching Julie and Julia last night I was somewhat inspired to start a blog. Not because I'm doing anything even remotely worthwhile that I need to share with the world, but rather the exact opposite. I am living in New York City and have spent the past year being voluntarily (or so I tell myself) single. Over the course of the past 11 months I have been on plenty of dates, some good, some bad, and some ugly. But all at least leaving me entertained and with a good story to entertain my coworkers with the next day, so in the spirit of making you feel better about any of your past dates, I figured I would share some of my experiences here.
A little background first. I am 25 and have been living in NYC for 3 and a half years now. I came to the city doing long distance with my college boyfriend who was living in St. Paul. I was working in finance and was the only girl in my department, and as much as the guys put up with me during work, they weren't exactly dying to take me out with them on the weekend as they picked up "real" girls (I learned soon after starting work that I no longer counted as a real girl, but rather was one of the guys who knew nothing about sports and had no good stories to contribute after the weekend). Anyways, my bf at the time and I did long distance for a year during which I rarely went out in the city because I a) had no girlfriends to go out with, b) felt guilty when I did go out and c) was spending half my weekends either flying to Minnesota or hosting my bf here. I was fairly miserable. And you would think that after we broke up I would have learned my lesson about doing long distance, but no...instead I took a 2 week break and jumped into another long distance relationship with a college friend who lived in DC. As much as I enjoyed the 4 hour bus ride on Bolt and watching absurd amounts of One Tree Hill on dvd, I again felt like I was missing out on the New York nightlife and meeting people in the city. So last Christmas we broke up and I vowed to stay single for at least a year and enjoy my time in NYC.
But unlike the Drew Barrymore chick flick that inspired the title...I did NOT have 50 great first dates.
A little background first. I am 25 and have been living in NYC for 3 and a half years now. I came to the city doing long distance with my college boyfriend who was living in St. Paul. I was working in finance and was the only girl in my department, and as much as the guys put up with me during work, they weren't exactly dying to take me out with them on the weekend as they picked up "real" girls (I learned soon after starting work that I no longer counted as a real girl, but rather was one of the guys who knew nothing about sports and had no good stories to contribute after the weekend). Anyways, my bf at the time and I did long distance for a year during which I rarely went out in the city because I a) had no girlfriends to go out with, b) felt guilty when I did go out and c) was spending half my weekends either flying to Minnesota or hosting my bf here. I was fairly miserable. And you would think that after we broke up I would have learned my lesson about doing long distance, but no...instead I took a 2 week break and jumped into another long distance relationship with a college friend who lived in DC. As much as I enjoyed the 4 hour bus ride on Bolt and watching absurd amounts of One Tree Hill on dvd, I again felt like I was missing out on the New York nightlife and meeting people in the city. So last Christmas we broke up and I vowed to stay single for at least a year and enjoy my time in NYC.
But unlike the Drew Barrymore chick flick that inspired the title...I did NOT have 50 great first dates.
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