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Posts Tagged ‘Brooklyn’

12 months.

Originally I had planned today to be the swan song for Learning to Drive Stick. I assumed, wrongly, that I would have some amazing revelations about human behavior. About human sexuality. Instead, a year in, all I have are more questions than when I began. My base questions were simple, or in retrospect, simple. Can I, a lesbian of 12 years, a woman who didn’t even like penetrative sex with her female lovers and hadn’t had a remote inkling of a novel non fleeting interest in a man in 12 years, sustain enough of an interest in any one or more men to date them and have a sexually romantic relationship with them. Sure, I flirted with a few boys during that time, kissed a couple, but that was alcohol tinged fun, not cock fueled desire. So, I set out last December on a quest, one year to meet as many men as possible, stay open to the process and see what the universe had to offer. Boy, did the universe have plans.

In the first months it was very experimental. I did have a look at my dates as pawns in a game, in a way. Or perhaps it was all like a science project, controlled experiments. As much as I was open to the process, I was awkward, at best. I was having issues crossing the line and connecting beyond the sexual flirtation. No one was getting in. I was having a blast though, so, I assumed, again wrongly, that this would be the nature of the beast. I would meet and have laughs, maybe some hot make out sessions with beautiful men who looked too good to be true (i.e. Gavin Depp), and some douche bags who thought inviting their friends on a first date and hitting on the girl in the tight wife beater, smoking a cigarette outside, was a BRILLIANT and tactful move. I assumed I would have some good stories, nothing more, nothing less.

Then Brooklyn showed up. He came at me with a relentless desire. He was just leaving a marriage to the only woman he had ever been intimate to, the 3rd woman he had kissed, and in many ways, what should have been a short passionless affair, turned into a 12 year relationship. She was the first girl to pay attention to him. The first to fall in love with him. So, he stayed. Until he decided the fall previous to our meeting, that he was done. Fini. He saw me on Match, signed up specifically to meet me, only met me and fell into a fantasy. It turned out that we had been neighbors in Brooklyn, yet never known each other, and in many ways, our connection was one of soul mates, but it was forced, by him. It was filled with a teenage fervor, making out on the beach in winter, in a car for hours with the heat turned on, on the couch of a home I was house sitting and in between the stacks of bookstores. It was hot and fast. In the end I fell in love with the idea of love. Love wasn’t what I was expecting in the journey, so to see that it could be a real possibility in the journey was thrilling. We broke off our short affair because he was overwhelmed, a night of almost sex had him rethinking his entire life. He needed therapy to leave the relationship, not me.

I did also assume, again wrongly, that sex would be fairly easy to come by, seeing that I am an extremely attractive woman with an average slender build, some fashion sense and style, and a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, except I wasn’t getting laid. Start and stops, start and stops. Hot make outs in a mall after hours following an alcohol loaded evening of jazz resulted in our getting thrown out of said mall, but when we were alone later, excuses for why the young law student wasn’t ready. Dates that couldn’t make it close to first base and my desire to have someone “be a man” about it and show me that they wanted me, rather than my taking the first move as I have in all of my relationships in my past. It wasn’t happening. So, the dates continued, the weather warmed, and the experiments went from controlled to natural as I found 3 men in a few week period who redefined the game.

Type Geek started out his date late, nice, but not thrilling. Former lawyer talked my ear off on the phone in an argumentative debate that, at times, crossed into condescending and rude, but I went out with him anyway, only to realize that I was truly JUST going to use him for sex. He seemed to be my most promising route for a lay, since Type Geek hadn’t even kissed me at week 3 of dating. So, I slept with Former Lawyer on a Wednesday and had him begin a three-day stalking that covered him showing up at a grocery store he knew I was shopping at, show up outside my door, uninvited, assuming he would be invited in, at a time when I just wanted to sit in the tub and relax after a hard day. I gave him 2 hours at a local martini bar. He told me that I couldn’t possibly like electronic music because I liked serious musicians like Rush. I respected Rush, sure, but I LOVE trip hop, so fuck off. He told me he was being argumentative in order to make my arguments and opinions more precise. I told him I had to go, I had plans. Those plans were to get back in the tub, of course, but I would not see this man again. He had however, broken the mystical seal surrounding my pussy and suddenly the world opened up.

That evening I met Cooper Fiennes on-line, we chatted briefly,flirted, and agreed to meet for coffee after an appointment I had scheduled the next day. I also had a date with Type Geek later that evening. And so, the next morning, I arose for my meeting, met Cooper Fiennes in person, and tried to hold my shock when meeting him. He was handsome on-line, but he was HANDSOME and European, and sexy as HELL in person. We walked for hours, drank coffee and talked. I didn’t feel a huge spark, but I felt his interest. Suddenly I saw the time and realized that I had 2 hours to get home, shower, wax (just in case, although since our first kiss was initiated by me, I was only so hopeful of anything past 1st base on this date as well), and get back to the same location I was sitting, for a date with Type Geek. I made it 15 minutes late. He was, of course, 20 minutes late. By 1 am I was beginning to consider it fruitless. He wasn’t making a move, and so I decided one last attempt at making myself available would need to be tried. I followed him into his bedroom as he dug through his closet for some shoes, the ugliest shoes in creation apparently, and I purposefully laid myself out on his bed and began to pet his cat. And so, this is how Type Geek made his move, finally. This was one hell of a move, as well… it resulted in great sex, my getting off, and really good coffee in the morning. After going home and showering, I met Cooper Fiennes in the city for a late afternoon coffee.

That became my summer, juggling between these two insanely different men. Sex with Cooper Fiennes was fierce and passionate, often beginning in alcoves of buildings of on park benches. He could turn me on in 3 seconds by stroking the back of my neck and breathing on it until I was ready for another 4 hour escapade. With Type Geek, it was sweet and typical, but he didn’t let me in, I was intimate with him, but often felt detached. I was beginning to think that he might be one-dimensional. a few months in I realized that I had fallen in love with the idea of sex and my body in ways I hadn’t ever been able to in my life. I had two men that found me sexy, one that showed me how insatiably, and it was thrilling. I misdirected this emotion for a couple of weeks as it being about Cooper Fiennes in general, only to see that it wasn’t, after we stopped seeing each other because he had fallen in love with his best friend.

I was considering ending my affair with Type Geek at this time as well, I wasn’t feeling anything spectacular, and while he was a nice guy, I didn’t see much else. As I trolled the internet sites for more potential dates I realized that perhaps Type Geek was that guy that in comparison doesn’t show well, but underneath it all, if the focus is just on him, maybe he is a diamond in the rough. So, I actively decided that I would only see him for a while. That awhile is now 8 months. A month ago I realized that after falling in love with the idea of love, after falling in love with the reality of myself as a very sexual being, I had also, fallen in love. He is flawed, emotionally and physically. He is imperfect in many ways. I am a overcommunicator and he is a undercommunicator, and at times I feel like a chicken with my head cut off, cause I just don’t get him, but, I love him. He is multi layered and as delicious as a Mille-feuille. He isn’t my boyfriend, it’s no grand affair with fireworks and sex on street corners and in rental cars, but it’s true and honest and real. Real isn’t always sexy, it requires a lot of work.

So, a year in. My original question was answered early on, yes, I could successfully date and maintain a sexual relationship with a man. Then I wondered if I could fall in love, and I did. Then I began asking questions about the all of human nature, realizing that while we are such different creatures, especially in how we go about processing and handling our rich and varied emotional lives, we, men and women, essentially want similar things. The only two things I truly know for sure though, in all of this, is that women are indeed bat shit crazy, even me. Men are emotionally retarded, and if they aren’t, there is some red flag somewhere that you should look for. We will never be able to have total communication with anyone we are sexually and romantically involved with, because we see things through eyes clouded with our own needs, wants, past traumas, etc. Nothing will ever be perfect, but imperfection, in all its beauty, isn’t far from grasp, if you open your eyes to it.

I no longer consider myself a lesbian, but I don’t consider myself bi or straight. To some, straight makes more sense. To me, calling myself straight discounts and disrespects my knowledge, my history, my activism in the gay community. I know too much to be straight. I consider myself, because labels seem to be necessary in our day and age of necessary compartmentalization, queer. I’m left of center, as Suzanne Vega sang.

What next? I’m not sure. I have decided not to end the blog just yet, but I am taking a break until the new year. In January I will be back, and perhaps with a different direction to take it in. I am thankful for all of the support I have received over the last year from my readers and my editors at The New Gay, as well as the gifts of the universe and even all of the crazy boys I encountered along the way. Some have become lifelong friends, others I avoid on the street, and some, one, I bring with me into the new year, filled with possibility, filled with potential and filled with utter frustration that once again, a date may get canceled and I may not get laid, because he may end up stuck in another state today due to a snow storm that hit after he finished his business meeting. Sigh.

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I met my ex-fiance 9 years ago at Canteen on Mercer Street and Prince Street in SoHo. I was meeting up with some old friends for brunch who had come to town for Gay Pride. With them was a firecracker of a red-head. Busty and sardonic, great musical taste, art film geek who I didn’t even consider because it was impossible. She was impossibly cooler than I. You see, back then, 9 years ago, I didn’t know that I was as awesome as I am. I didn’t feel beautiful or sexy. I felt awkward and unworthy of the attention of any beautiful woman. I hid behind the camera lens that I used to capture the things I thought were beautiful. Photography is a great escape from reality, a great distancer. I spent most of my life as a voyeur, watching others live and love. By the end of Pride, Godard Lover (she was obsessed with À bout de souffle) had taken down my email and asked if she could drive down in a few weeks in order to film some natural gas tanks in my neighborhood getting imploded. It was during that trip that she asked me out. It was also during that trip that I finally had sex with a woman. Prior to that, I dated them, kissed them, made out in the corners of gay bars with them, but I hadn’t actually made love to one. The girl that I had always thought would be THE ONE and that looking back I still believe SHOULD have been THE ONE, well, our lives could never intersect as perfectly as they should have. So, it took from my first love, my beautiful Candy Necklace Girl at 17, until years later, at 25, to finally have a woman make love to me. I was petrified. I thought I would be horrible. Perhaps I was quaint and the awkwardness was charming, I apparently earned at least a passing score, because Godard Lover and I would spend my remaining time in NYC swapping out travel weekends with one of us staying with the other nearly every weekend in one city or the other.

The video of the implosion is not the same video that she shot that day. I found this video on YouTube while looking for the Implode Brooklyn t-shirts some screen-printers had made. I had one which I bought off the street that day. Later that day, while wearing the shirt, I sat in a park not far from Rob Morrow of Northern Exposure as he enjoyed the sunshine with his baby as he read the paper on a bench. He had one of his legs crossed over, ankle to knee and I remember that he was wearing moccasins, but that one had fallen off, so he sat there, with one shoe on, reading the paper, and I remember thinking how much I loved NYC for that. For those moments of imperfection. I miss that about NYC.

great line: happiness isnt happiness without a violin playing goat

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My ex broke up with her girlfriend…AGAIN. Hopefully it sticks this time. The relationship is volatile and dangerous. If everything that has happened now, isn’t sufficient reason to leave, it will take one of them in the hospital and/or jail in order to finally end this relationship. So, she called me after picking up her things from the other woman’s apartment and was headed home when I suggested that I buy her and her mother lunch, someplace cheap, so that they could just decompress and potentially have a few laughs, rather than wallowing in a bad place. She agreed.

We met halfway between where I was with my dog and a client and the, now, ex-girlfriend’s apartment. A Panera Bread cafe. They have this apple chicken salad I LOVE. Her mom had a ham and swiss on rye and my ex, she had the tomato soup…and picked at it, as she picks at all her food. We were sitting there listening to her dissect, again and again, this girlfriend and the actions that led up to this moment. It’s exhausting after a while. All you can do is be supportive, but sometimes, that is difficult when they can’t be supportive of themselves. It feels like a losing battle.

I realized as we sat there that there was a sex shop around the corner. Hmm, I need condoms. I have the Kimono Large because the guy I was hoping to be with when I bought them was jewish and a bit girthy than average. Type Geek is not jewish so the large would be wrong. After we finished our lunch, my ex and I wandered over while her mom sat in her car. Her mom was a little embarrassed. We walked in and she went off and pouted, looking around and thinking of her now ex. I stood staring at the condoms. So foreign to me after 12 years with women. I had hoped to get some regulars but they didn’t have the extra thin regular Kimonos. Hmmpf. I ended up picking up a couple Skyns and some Avanti Bares. The Polyisophrene material is supposedly far superior to latex in terms of heat transfer and feeling, both for the wearer and the receiver. We shall see. I also picked up some Sliquid lube, as I was told the Skyns can sometimes dry out quickly without additional assistance. Not good and good to know!

Perhaps I will get a chance to try them out on Saturday evening AND Sunday morning. One never does know what the world shall bring. Type Geek and I have that date with the dog and an outdoor music festival on Saturday afternoon. Sun and grass can be quite good for the libido, especially if I figure out how to wear something that isn’t suggestive but is. Hmm, demure sundress sans panties? All I know is this… I have been thinking of having sex on Type Geek’s kitchen table for days. Why? I am not sure, but surely, this would be quite fun. That is a small goal for this coming weekend.

The rest of the week is shaping up to be post worthy. Cooper Fiennes and I are grabbing a cocktail and a trip to the cinema tonight, and Brooklyn wants a dog free lunch meet up on Thursday. How will this be? I haven’t seen him in over a month I think. I have been able to subdue my feelings for him, compartmentalized them in a way that is safe and allows me to exist without constant thoughts. I miss him, yes. I miss that connection. I can’t continue as we have been however, I can’t continue being disregarded. I’m not sure what is going to come out in our conversation over lunch, if we make it to lunch. I might find him too frustrating to be around and just walk away. Perhaps, this is what needs to happen.

Sweet, sweet “hump day”, the week is at mid-point, but there are still so many stories that need to be told, adventures to go on, life to be lived, before the week cycles into the next. I can’t sleep with the Spaniard. Not yet. That would be too many men in 7 days. I do want some kisses against a wall and in the rain though. How hot would that be? Mmmm, yeah. Super hot.

So, what are your experiences out there with all the different types of condoms? Informal survey… comment with your most favorites, least favorites, what ones broke (the horror), what ones made you thing a steel drum around your cock would have given more sensation?! Inquiring minds, we want to know!

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What an interesting week I had! I got laid 3 times, in 4 days… by two different men. One, uber needy and slighty stalkeresque. The other, unexpectedly fabulous. But again, wow, no sex for MONTHS…and then 2 men in 4 days. I feel so… dirty, no. Naughty? No. Hmm, what is that word? Oh, relieved. Ha! YES, that IS what I feel.

In a week so much has changed though. Mr. Lawyer McBratty, whom I slept with on Wednesday night and whose bedroom skills fell into the category of pleasant mediocrity, was just TOO much to bear in terms of personality flaws. He began systematically insulting everything I was passionate about if he didn’t understand it or like it. From my musical tastes to my spiritual and philosophical leanings to my relationships with animals. He said that I was intelligent with good common sense, so why was I being irrational in my interests? He was being argumentative in order to make my arguments more precise, he explained. Oh, I thought it was to ensure that he would never get laid again. Needless to say, but, he is completely out of the picture in only 6 days!

Type Geek has won himself the gift of regular sex after taking a surprise turn from shy non move maker to my new oral sex rock god. Can we all say hallelujah?! All hail the man who can get me to curl up in a ball and break into hysterics. (Does anyone else out there laugh hysterically when they cum? Am I an anomaly?)

Now, the bookends. In my weekend post I mentioned having chatted up a hot McHotty from Spain on the dating site and arranging to have coffee with him on Saturday afternoon, prior to my date with Type Geek. The hottie, in person, was even hotter than he was in virtual 2-d. Yes, I keep saying hot. A mix of Bradley Cooper and Ralph Fiennes, I nicknamed him Cooper Fiennes. We had a great few hours together on Saturday. Very easy to spend time with him.

My date with Type Geek spanned the Saturday evening into Sunday early afternoon. Evening and morning sex, multiple meals, and lots of time spent naked in bed. An excellent pinnacle to the weekend. I spent a few hours at home on Sunday, wrote a post for this blog, showered, ate a real meal and then I received an email from Cooper Fiennes. He was in the city with his childhood best friend, a man visiting from Spain. If I was in the city, would I like to meet up with them for coffee? The dog and I decided that coffee was a great idea, if it meant strolling around with a dangerously handsome man who finds me attractive.

His friend was a darling man. I bought all of us coffee and we sat in the sun with my dog. The boys even took turns walking her, something they found entertaining because of her inherent youthful exuberance. When she and I walked them to the train and said our ciao’s, she whined frantically as they ascended the escalators to the platform. They had made quite the impression on my little girl. It was a nice end to a very fun, very sexy weekend. Great sex bookended by coffee with a gorgeous foreigner. Yes, please.

Now, the new week has begun. It has already begun to fall into place. I had a re-exam by my dentist, you may remember him as the youngster who likes rough sex… but later admitted that it was only because he was trying to emotionally protect himself. He is a doll…and now, he is my dentist. He graduates in a few short weeks and will be moving to Minnesota sadly, so, we have three appointments this week in order to ensure he has completed all my fillings prior to his getting signed off and cleared for diploma. In addition to that, I was going to go to NYC to see my Virtual Sex Guru pal present an art piece he has been working on, however, things fell apart at the 10 o’clock hour. With a sudden free evening, Cooper Fiennes has stepped up for a night of cocktails and the cinema. Saturday is an outdoor music festival with Type Geek and my pooch, with a high potential for naughtiness later that evening. The topper of the week, however, is this. Guess who started texting the hell out of me this afternoon? Guess who really wants to see me and have lunch. Guess who might need to wait til next week. If you said Brooklyn, you would be correct. My feelings for him have not changed, however, until HIS ability to process and respectively assimilate his feelings for me into his life, in a way other than how he has been doing it the last couple of months, I refuse to jump through hoops and make myself available at his whim. I will not contort my reality in order to fit him in. It’s not my job.

Sigh. I think this may be a very interesting summer. A hot summer fling with a divorced Spanish man who is unnecessarily good-looking, regular naughtiness with an ocd designer, and the myriad of other men who may happen upon my lap, or I upon theirs, in the coming months. May we all have some adventures worth talking about.

Tuesday posts are web syndicated by www.thenewgay.net

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This isn’t as insidious as it sounds. We are NOT talking Wakamezake, Yeastiality, Nyotaimori, Sitophila or even basic fruit or vegetable fetishism here. I use the title as a way to explain how one looks at food when on a liquid dietary cleanse. Food itself becomes an untouchable tease. I found myself looking at cookbooks and the “kitchn”, a sub blog of  http://www.apartmenttherapy.com . I found my flirtations with the men I was meeting online to be food focused. We talked food into each other’s virtual ears like some people talk dirty as foreplay. The things we would do with respective organs and orifices was replaced with what spices belonged in a Moroccan quinoa salad or the perfect lamb preparation. Whispers of dessert were almost too much for us to handle, so we hinted at dried fruits, rice puddings, carrot cakes with cream cheese frostings and the perfect apple pies. It was good to eat again. Like cumming off my 4 year celibacy, feeling the texture, smelling the aromas and tasting the fruit, the buttered toast, the flaky oven roasted cod, as they came across each taste bud. Mmmm, the Master Cleanse allows you to reestablish your relationship with food in a way that is more respectful and mindful. Food is sensual. Food should be sensual. Not fast, tasteless, and cheap, like a bad date with a low rent prostitute. Sigh. It’s nice to eat again.

So, I have a date with Type Geek this week, Frenchie has officially finished his paper and we should be rescheduling our rain check for an upcoming day, and a new couple of contacts are on the horizon as well… Political Satirist guy and Art Gallerist guy. The fascinating this is ALL of these men are foodies. While Brooklyn loves my food, he isn’t at all a foodie. In fact, he does admit an occasional fast food indulgence, but usually he has the typical suburban family meal. While, two of the four other men are also divorced dads, they have had a more diverse relationship with food over their lifetimes. It will be interesting to get into these other men’s ahem…. kitchens and see what they can do. I like to see how a man handles his culinary tools.

Tuesday posts are web-syndicated by http://www.thenewgay.net

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You know when you hit a certain age and things hurt? When you turn things seem to just fall apart because suddenly you aren’t mocking the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” lady because suddenly you are her. I threw out part of my back and shoulder yesterday. Excruciating pain, limited mobility. Add insult to injury… I am still on my cleanse so no comfort food AND I started my period. Ha, funny joke world. But enough about literal me, you want the dirt.
 
This weekend was fairly uneventful. The weather was amazing so I met up with a documentary filmmaker for some iced green tea, just about the only thing besides lemon juice, cayenne, maple syrup and water, which I am allowed to consume. He was okay. Tall. More handsome in his photos. Kinda scruffy but less in a sexy way and more in a lazy way.
 
We sat in the local greenway and chatted as we people watched and kept my dog from killing other dogs. Eventually we moved to the tea shop and, amusingly enough, as we were walking in, I noticed someone on the patio engaged in an apparent 1st date whom I had been corresponding on line with back in December. We never were quite able to get our schedules together. So, after we pick up our teas from inside, I try to steer Doc Film Boy to an bench away from the cafe or at least the other side of the patio BUT he insists that we should sit on the ledge of the patio, coincidentally, right next to Euro Pastry Chef and his eastern european first date, Oy. I was certain he would recognize me. On this particular day I happened to look just like my profile photo. My dog kept bothering his date who was yammering away and I could see there was zero chemistry. We all chatted at one point. I was so sure that he recognized me. Doc Film Boy and I eventually left, as he had a project to get back to and, quite frankly, there was as much chemistry between us as two blind and deaf strangers sitting three seats away from each other. I wished the Euro Pastry Boy and his date a good day and walked my date back to his place.
 
The weather was so nice that my pooch and I decided to do some wandering. We found an amazing used book store and stocked up on some great books by Kazan, Baker, Robbins, and Rilke, and we then picked her up some dinner, since her raw dog food had just finished off that morning. Raw lamb anyone?
 
Sunday was another day out in the sun. The first weekend of May always brings street festivals, so the pup and I boarded the train and headed out to one of the bigger ones. This particular festival is hell to anyone on a liquid dietary cleanse. Sigh, the food smelled soooo good. We received a text that afternoon that Type Geek would be unable to meet up as originally intended due to a family crisis. His brother was in town visiting for their parent’s anniversary and the upcoming Mother’s Day weekend and looked like utter death. He had been trying to self treat a chronic health problem that turned his system septic. He was jaundiced, internally bleeding, and 40 pounds thinner than he had been just 5 months earlier. The family staged an intervention and brought him to the ER. Days later he is now stabilized and moved to a better care facility but still in ICU. The doctors have yet to determine what is the cause of all of his problems, let alone what the long term affects are. So, Type Geek was spending the entire day in hospital emergency waiting rooms while I laid in the grass with my dog and an iced green tea on a sunny 80+ degree May Sunday. I think I definitely got the better deal of the hand on that one, wouldn’t you say.
 
Oh and regarding the Euro Pastry guy, I emailed him when I had settled in at home Saturday evening. Apologizing that my dog had disturbed his date and reiterating that I had truly TRIED to get my date to NOT sit where we did. Interestingly enough, he didn’t recognize me. He did however respond that, wow, I am quite pretty. Ha Ha. So, we have been bantering back and forth a bit since Sunday morning. I am also talking with a divorced man from San Diego who loves good fish tacos as much as I and used to own art galleries. So, who knows what the week will bring. And Monday? It started off with Brooklyn acknowledging and apologizing for how unfair he has been, admitting that it’s a shite thing he is doing to me, but that he needs to do self work alone at the moment. I really appreciated that. I miss him and I could really use a back rub from him right about now.    

Tuesday posts are web-syndicated by www.thenewgay.net

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I went out with Type Geek  last night. A rock show and foodie approved dinner. I have a cleanse planned to begin tomorrow so this was to be my last meal and alcoholic beverages for two weeks.

I was running late due to a well-known holder-upper called dog with the suddenly shy bladder (she always does this as I am trying to leave for a date) and a missed train connection. He was even later. He was late the first time we met as well. This is good though. Keeps the pressure off of me for the future, right? I ran over to the local natural food store while waiting for him to arrive and picked up some digestive enzymes to help get me through the cleanse that I am beginning the next day. I walked back over and waited…and waited…and waited. Okay, he was there in ten minutes. It wasn’t that catastrophic.

I had forgotten that he has minor height issues. He’s 5’8″, whatever, I’m shorter than that… except when I wear my 3 inch heeled boots. Oopsie. I am sure he forgave me since I was wearing a dress and femmed myself up for the night. Don’t get me wrong, I am naturally a feminine gal BUT I don’t live in dresses and other than lip gloss and some mascara, I don’t wear a lot of  makeup. So, he got me with tarted up smoky eyes, hair down (I usually stick it up in a twisted knot), in a dress and stockings! He should consider himself lucky.

The host inside gave us a 10 minute estimate and while it was 20 before we sat down, I didn’t feel we waited long for a busy night. The server was cute in a slighty foreign, probably smokes in bed kind of way. A she, by the way. Dark hair, tiny. Cute. The atmosphere was great, chill and quiet with just enough chatter to be interesting. The clientele was young urban hipster with cash. Food was excellent. Type Geek ordered scallops and I went for something uber nom, as I was embarking on a dietary cleanse the next day, I wanted the meal to be something worth having. Mmm nomnomnom mid-rare steak frites with garlic aioli to dip my fries in. I let him choose the wine with one stipulation…no red. I KNOW I was eating steak but I have this issue. If I drink red wine, kool-aid, blue curacao, etc… my mouth turns the color of the drink. Yes, my tongue, my gums, my teeth… it’s awful. It’s not a sexy look for a date. So, I avoid red wine on dates and in public. He did a good job. I can’t remember what he chose, but it was tasty. Big enough to hold up to the steak but delicate enough to not overpower the scallops. Bravo Type Geek!

After dinner we hit the rock show. He wasn’t interested in any of the opening acts so we lingered at dinner… only to get to the show and realize we still had an hour of lingering to be done. Hmm. Do we stay at this bar or walk next door? We went to the Middle Eastern place around the corner that was the site of my dinner with Frenchie. I was nervous I might bump into him, but hopeful as well. While I did NOT bump into Frenchie, I did bump into this cutie I met on the dating sites when I first signed up. We never actually hung out as it was apparent that we weren’t really each other’s type BUT it turned out we had a connection in common. It seemed that I knew his ex-wife vaguely. We had never met though, only chatted on-line/via email. As soon as Type Geek and I made it to the bar at the Middle Eastern restaurant I recognized him at the end of the bar. He looked just like his photos and apparently so did I because we made eye contact and I walked over to say hello. We exchanged pleasantries, hugs, and phone numbers. It was nice to meet him in person, even if nothing was going to come of it.

While Type Geek and I finished our drinks (cider for me, beer for him) we made up stories, theories, conspiracies even, about the people crowded around us in the bar. We lost track of time and suddenly looked at each other with faces that said,”oh shit!”… we then headed over to the show, only missing one song from the headlining act! The band was pretty good. It reminded me of Social Distortion, a teenage favorite that still tugs at my nostalgia strings. We stood in the back and just listened to the band and watched the crowd, feeling too old and responsable, we drank water for the rest of the evening. At one point I needed a pee and so I left T.G. to keep guard over my purse, jacket, and the remainder of the steak, which was to be a special treat for my pup when I got home. One knows to NEVER bring a purse into a public restroom. Unless you want to hold onto it the ENTIRE time you are peeing and washing your hands, it WILL become a magnet for things I cannot pronounce, let alone want to type in this blog. SOOOO, I get in the bathroom, I stand in line, I mind my own business and just as it’s my turn, I notice her. The girl who was sitting on the floor suddenly falls over and begins to pass out. Oh NO, NOT on my watch! So, I forfeit my place in line and get her seated upright, I yell out orders to people around to get her some water, ask a bartender for some chips, bread, SOMETHING to put in her stomach, and most important I keep her talking. I find out enough to direct a staff member to find her friends and then order them to get her home AND make sure she throws up. If they need to stick their fingers down her throat themselves, that girl needed to get rid of some of that alcohol. I can’t even imagine how she feels today. Oh, to be 21. Hmm, or 35… cause wasn’t that me just awhile back? Yeah, in a date’s bathtub. Nice one Student Driver.

Type Geek was curious about why I was gone so long, as it was longer than the usual “long bathroom line for the girls room”. I told him the story and he looked half amused and half concerned for the girl. Since he was used to my prolonged absence at this point, I snuck away for another minute and bought him a vinyl from the merch table. Red Vinyl, sexy, no? He loved it. I can’t do much these days, my business is doing beyond poorly and things are rather grim, even the waxing is off the table for the moment, BUT he did take me to a very nice dinner and a rock show, I figured a $15 collectors vinyl from the show was a fair thank you. After the show let out I looked at the time and let out a very audible,”hmmm, shit”. The trains had stopped running and cabs HATE/often REFUSE to go to my neighborhood. THANK GOD T.G. has a car now!

We walked the half mile to his place and I was curious, what was he thinking of me? I mean, a man doesn’t spend that much on someone they have zero interest in, correct? But, he wasn’t making a move. AT all. I lingered in his apartment, wondering if chatting awhile on the couch might get him to do something. Perhaps it would have IF he hadn’t sat in the chair on the other side of the room. HELLO?!! Am I hot or what?I look just as good up close, better in fact… ahem, cough, cough. I gave up after twenty minutes and we left so he could give me a ride home. I was feeling gratuitous SO I gave him another opening in the car outside my place… alas, nothing. I hugged him goodnight and kissed him on the cheek, which he reacted quite happily to. I had a sudden moment of , fuck this, and grabbed him and kissed him. The verdict? I’ll give him a redo since he was caught off guard. But so far, of the emotionally available men (i.e. anyone other than Brooklyn), Frenchie leads the pack in good kissage. I may run into T.G. at a street fair on Sunday. It’s in his neighborhood, he knows I will be there… we shall see.

Meanwhile, Frenchie…hurry up with that damn paper and make out with me!

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