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Yes, my dear dedicated readers… I went on a date last night. With someone new. With someone different. I know, shudder to think, huh?!

Anyway, we met up around 4, I had an appointment in the area that ended at 3:30 and so we decided to meet in the grassy park area in front of a local coffeehouse. 3:45 turned into 4 and a text message apologizing that a client phoned him soon followed. The dog and I sat drinking our iced green tea, reading a Bark Magazine and time turned into 4:30. Oy, with the waiting. He finally appeared a few minutes later. We decided to get him an iced green tea as well and then take a walk to the river with my pooch. The dog was on full tilt. I often joke that my dog has an illegal meth production lab in my bathroom that she runs when I am gone for the day. She’s a crazy tweaker, but I love her madly. Maybe it’s something less insidious… like a love for espresso, that enables her to maintain this insane energy. He decided to hold her leash, ummm, ha ha ha. She behaves for me on leash, not so much for the boys. To her, boys are meant for playing tug of war. I chuckled watching him try to control her.

So, who is this guy? He’s a professional design geek with a love of typography and sinister imagery. He used to be a rock musician, hence the creepy leanings, but since I have a taxidermied deer leg lamp and Bison skull, who am I to judge? So, we will call him Type Geek. He’s nice. Shorter than what I tend to, and over time I have realized I love having hair to play with, which he doesn’t have either. Grr, with the shaving off of the hair. Oh well.

We sat on the side of the river for a while then decided to go get some adult cocktails. It was nice out, so we decided to sit outside. Slowly the sun started to fade and the night grew cooler. Having the dog meant being unable to move inside so we suffered the cool down with a couple cocktails, some steamed mussels and shiitake mushrooms baked with goat cheese. The dog had a side of anchovies, a few mussels and a crostini, while making friends all over the patio. Conversation flowed easily but it felt more friendly than anything. He gets approached by 50-year-old cougars and I was his first ever internet date. I seem to be a lot of people’s first ever internet dates. Sigh.

I have a couple tentative dates set up with two other guys but rain is predicted. I would rather stay home and organize my house, do laundry and get some things taken care of with work. Does this make me pathetic? I know, I am just not feeling the enthusiasm. It’s hard to get excited for vanilla ice cream when you want creme brulee. Hard to have creme brulee when it’s out of stock.

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I woke up yesterday morning with some errands planned and a tentative date scheduled for the evening. He is someone whom I talked to a bit in December and then lost touch for a few weeks until the end of January. We agreed earlier in the week to have a loosely scheduled date in the 6:30 ish realm for Saturday night. No hard defined plans. Honestly, I was not feeling like it though and was hoping that I didn’t hear from him. He had suddenly become a Plan B.

After my meet-up turned date on Friday afternoon I found myself thinking a lot about Brooklyn Boy. I hadn’t met anyone whom I immediately felt an ease and comfort with like I did in his company. It seemed as if we had known each other for years as our rapport was so natural and unforced. He Google IM’d me around 9 pm and we spent several hours chatting online before I told him MY big “secret”. His response to my news, that I was just coming out of over a decade of lesbian exclusivity, was one of  surprise but not offense.  Most people aren’t offended per se, but there are preconceived beliefs that can interfere with someone’s attempts at getting to know me for who I am, which isn’t only as someone with a queer slant to my sexuality. Maybe it’s the New York in him, he isn’t fazed by much. He wants to see me on Saturday, if I am available. This is WHY my original date became my Plan B, as Brooklyn Boy suddenly took over top billing. I decided that if I didn’t hear from Plan B by 2 pm on Saturday, Brooklyn would win the spot.

So, I woke up as my 25-year-old texted me, hung over from a party the night before. I’m in need of distraction and ask him if he wants to tag along with me on my errands. We met an hour later, watched enough of the DVR’d Olympics to see the luger die and I dragged him out of his apartment. I couldn’t watch the news coverage, it was just too dreadfully sad. Meanwhile, I kept hoping I didn’t hear from Plan B.

We wandered around the city, grabbed some sesame balls from Chinatown, picked up my duvet cover, bought some dog food and then wrapped up our early afternoon adventure at a café with some latte’s, cinnamon tortilla chips and sea-salted caramels. 2 pm had come and gone and Brooklyn Boy had texted me and agreed to pick me up at my place at 4:30. A new hair conditioner I used in the morning had turned my hair into a bad science experiment show and tell exhibit so I had an hour to rush back to my place to rewash my hair and be ready.

The train was delayed. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Argh. I texted him begging that he please not be early. As I was hitting send, he texted me letting me know he would be roughly 20 minutes late. Score! I finally made it home, fed the dog, washed my hair and changed three times before taking the dog out for a quick last walk before he arrived.

A few minutes later he arrives in his family van, a sign of a parent with two young kids, and we decide to go into the city and figure out our plan from there. He’s still cute and I’m still intrigued. Sometimes the initial interest wanes after you go home after a date but it didn’t with him. I want his story. We are both obsessed with stories about people, we have similar projects we are planning on working on that are built around the stories of people you pass by every day and never think much about. Everyone has a story worth telling and being heard.We find a parking spot with a 2 hour limit but 2.5 hours until it switches over to free. We make note to stop back by later. Since his soon to be declared ex-wife doesn’t drink, he doesn’t get the opportunity to go out for cocktails much so we decide to start there. We each had a Dark and Stormy, chatted, laughed, people watched and then another round and some kisses and some more laughing and then a final 3rd round. Starting so early with the cocktails and having had so little to eat earlier in the day had us both a little pie eyed. We left and realized the time. Surely he had a ticket. We hesitantly walked by the family van and SCORE again, no ticket. That NEVER happens on this particular street. We look at each other quizzically and decide that to go to a little book store café down the street, maybe grab a bite and a cup of tea, sober up some.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the floor in the far aisle of the bookstore against a stack of unpopular books. I say they are unpopular because we sat there for 4 hours and only 3 people walked by the entire time. 3 people whom we chatted up and exchanged info with. Over the span of time we were sprawled on the floor we varied in position, at times I had my head in his lap as we looked through books, other times he leaned into me, or we faced each other, legs entwined and backs against opposing shelves.  The people who we met, one of them asked how long we had been together, how we had met. We laughed. When we confessed they looked shocked. They said that we appeared to have known eachother for years. We looked at eachother and smiled, it felt like that.We sat there on that floor for 4 hours like an old couple, punctuating moments with kisses, absent-minded caresses and laughter. He showed me illustrators he liked, I showed him a book of poems by Neruda, whom he had never read. He reads out loud. It’s nice, comforting, inclusive. I can not remember the last time I had felt such an ease with another person.

Eventually the bookstore threw us out because they were closing. he had a long drive back home so we decided to get back to the car and get me home. Only, we sat and talked, and talked, and stared at each other and laughed and kissed for 2 more hours. When we finally looked at the clock and saw that it was past 2, we untangled ourselves from our embrace and got serious about getting me home. Parked in front of my condo, I suggested I grab the dog for her last pee, and so he could meet her. In addition to kids, he also has a big cumbersome male dog. My pooch barely let me out the door before she had dragged me across the sidewalk and practically tackled him. She spent 15 minutes engrossed in him and the delicious scents of his family van. It’s a treasure trove of dropped kid snacks and dog cookie crumbles. We laughed at her and said our good nights. I made him promise to text me when he has arrived home safely.

I spent the next 2 hours chatting via IM with varying friends who happened to be online. We talk about him, I send over pics to them. Everyone approves, some worry about the complications of his current status. I counter that we all have baggage, some hide it better. His however, is completely in view. No apologies, it is, what it is. He has kids, he is in the process of getting divorced and for some reason something in my profile resonated with him and made him sign up to meet me. I consider that a gift. A fabulously unexpected gift.

Today is Valentine’s Day. Brooklyn Boy just texted me that he misses me. Is it okay that I find this sweet and not unnerving? I guess I like him too, so it’s okay. I have an Anti-Valentine’s Day date scheduled with my 25-year-old tonight but I am tired and really want to clean my house. I am also feeling a little run down. I am going to see if he minds a rain check. I would rather get some laundry done, take some Motrin (thank you period for arriving this morning), and watch I Love You, New York with my pup and some take out pho. I hope he understands.

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We met at Starbucks before the concert. SHORT and OMG… SO GAY. How does he NOT know that he is gay? The entire world knows that this 32-year-old man, studying to be a nurse, is a raging queer. He laments that most of his friends are gay or mailmen OR gay mailmen. Ya think? Really? Wasn’t there a mailman in The Village People?

We stopped for Pho before the show and were seated next to a former colleague of mine and her husband whom I have never gotten on with. I actually avoided even saying hello to him. I spoke with the woman for a few moments, realized we were both going to the same show and sighed in relief when they finished up 10 minutes before us. I desperately needed to tell my gay date what a douche bag her husband was.

The show was phenomenal. The opening act quirky and while at first a little too hip and annoying, I must admit that her thumb piano and high-pitched voice eventually won me over because her lyrics were just THAT fun. Robot Ponies. Really?!

The main act came on… and they played two sets and a few songs for encore. I love his voice and if i could have anyone be the soundtrack for my life, it would be this man and his band of loons.

The bartender at the venue made the strongest well drinks EVER and I found myself very buzzed off two drinks. Since I knew I was not going to be kissing the emasculated gay nurse in training, I tested Mr. Decade and told him to meet me for a night-cap. He actually responded that he was planning on going to bed early. Umm, when the 35-year-old woman who you have tried to convince to give you a legitimate chance, text messages you from a concert, admitting to being tipsy, and inviting you out for a night-cap, you do NOT say no. I responded back that he should reconsider because I wasn’t sure how many times I might offer. Needless to say, he agreed to meet me.

We met at a place around the corner from his apartment and next to my train station. We curled up on a couch in the corner, had a couple drinks and he put his arm around me. He did so at first in a semi-awkwardly, not sure what was acceptable way, but then loosened up. We spent an hour sprawled out on the couch chatting and staring at the patrons and the fish tank before I realized I had ten minutes before my train was coming.

On the walk over to the station I felt a bit bratty, grabbed some snowballs and jettisoned them at him. I knew he was feeling too gentlemanly to really throw back AND he wasn’t wearing gloves. Ha Ha. Outside the station he reached down to give a peck goodnight, again, unsure of where I was leading him or authorizing him to go. I had to assert myself a bit, pulling him back in for a more authentic round of kissing that happily left us both a little smirky on our separate walks home. Not bad for a 25-year-old.

So, what does everyone think. Should I give the 25-year-old a real chance or is it doomed to be messy and obnoxious because of his age and our age difference? Comment with your opinions!

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I arrived first, on time even, which is a rarity for me. I sat by the fireplace reading the NY Times Arts section as I waited. The bartender, a youngish musician type, made me a surprise rum cocktail because they were out of the usual cider I mixed it with.  I heard someone come in and ask where the bar was before he realized that it was right in front of him. I looked up and smiled, greeted him warmly and started to hear voices in my head. Hmmm. He grabbed himself a Hendrick’s and tonic to start and we sat at the bench by the fireplace finishing our first drinks while we waited for a spot at the bar. 

Usually when you meet someone online and they seem familiar, it’s in an abstract sense, not an real sense. I made the date with the Peruvian’s Doppelganger on Saturday night for the next evening. We agreed to meet at the bar of a small bistro in a quaint historic neighborhood halfway between our homes. Online, he is approachable. It’s easy to talk with him. In person he is a little awkward, a little stiff. The Peruvian was so smooth, warm, and attentive. Curious and interested. The Doppelganger seemed distracted and slightly disinterested. I soon learned though, as I watched him interact with his surroundings, that it isn’t for lack of interest but general social anxiety. The Peruvian is so good with people because he has taken years of classes in public speaking and presentation. His presence is DYNAMIC. The room notices when he walks into it. The Doppelganger, not so much.

We finally get some seats at the bar when a nice Hungarian man and his companion get up to leave. I chat the older man up for a moment, because flirting with older foreign men is so fun at times, and we proceed to sit down and drink some more. 4 drinks in, we are still chatting, chemistry is minimal. He is interested, he mentions wanting to go to other establishments with me in the future. He discusses future dates, yet he doesn’t rest a hand on my arm or knee once. Okay. Lukewarm reception. But he is at least leaning towards interest in his comments. We chat up the bartender, the Hungarian man who has decided to sit on the other side of the bar, and with the couple he is speaking with, the woman looking similar to Maggie Gyllenhall; a night of doppelgangers everywhere. Even Facebook is rocking a doppelganger theme. In case you are now wondering, mine is Jeri Ryan.

We order more drinks and we chat and chat. He tells me about his business, he asks about my time in NYC and tells me about when he would visit his younger brother who used to live there. It seems he comes from a semi close family and everyone lives in the same town. Apparently, he and his younger brother also own competing businesses, yet are going into business with each other on inventions. Hmm, my brain is chattering about little keywords. Inventions. IT consulting. NYC. Weird.

I ask how Mr Doppelganger’s time with online dating has been thus far. He tells me that it’s been mostly uneventful, he was pushed into it by a friend. He tells me that his brother had tried Match for a couple months but met someone through Volleyball in December that he has been dating. Hmm, Volleyball, Match. The fire alarms suddenly go off and we are ushered out of the door rudely by some fireman who are yelling at the manager of the bistro and making her cry with they way they are treating her. Doppelganger and I walk into the market next door to pass a few minutes while the firemen double-check the bistro and give everyone clearance to enter the building. Walking through the aisles we point out bizarre foods and strong flavors we like and things we don’t and he mentions someone having issues with Indian food. A name he hadn’t used before. I asked who? On our way to the exit he then said,” oh, sorry, that’s my little brother”. Hmm.

Back outside we notice that the fireman are allowing entrance back into the building. Doppelganger has relaxed a bit more at this time and is friendlier, yet still not comfortable expressing it physically. Ok, socially awkward man. We order and finish our 4th and last cocktail and say goodnight to the manager and bartender on our way out. Amazing how 4 cocktails makes the night air in January feel so much warmer.  I walk him to his car, which is on the way to the train, and he thanks me for the fun time before asking for my number. He bends down and gives me a brief peck on the lips goodnight, but instead of pulling away from it when it was over, I leaned in. I hate pecks. Either commit to the kiss or don’t even go there. So, we kiss for a few minutes. Nice, it didn’t send me running but it also didn’t curl my toes like the Peruvi… HOLY SHIT. We stop kissing and say goodnight and as I walk away, all the earlier hmm’s and chatter form a complete story. The Doppelganger is NOT a doppelganger. He is the Peruvian’s older brother. Oh. shit. This is going to be an interesting one to explain.

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I have a semi last-minute cocktail date this evening. A handsome man creature hit me up on one of the dating sites and we started chatting, we both ranked each other highly, even though we are suppossed enemies. The funny thing is, he has a physical similarity to an earlier conquest. He has the smile and the eyes of the Peruvian but actually likes the dark and stormies and strong flavors I gravitate towards. Is this the best of both worlds? There must be a catch. Regardless, this will be an interesting night.

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I wasn’t looking forward to meeting the dental student for coffee yesterday. I had been but then our chat the night prior was a buzz kill. His age is a huge red flag, being 9 years YOUNGER is not something I am looking to deal with but there have been things he has said on-line that were surprising and not in line with a boy of his age. So, why did I still meet up, even though I wasn’t feeling it? Having been stood up myself, I find it sucks, even last-minute cancellations. One cup of coffee in public won’t hurt someone. Additionally, we had arranged a quid pro quo for the future. He needs a patient for his dental board exams and I need some cavities filled. Having coffee and letting him drill my teeth doesn’t mean I need to fuck him, so I sighed and went through with our meet up.

Briefly, before I talk of our meeting, let me explain why I had reservations about following through. Online, the first chats are generally light, as you get to know people. The 3rd or 4th starts to show signs of more adult conversations, sex and sexuality as a whole. So, we start talking about our sexual leanings and I am a very open-minded person who has tried many things and realized in the end that sometimes a dish of vanilla is good, but that dish should be Madagascar bourbon vanilla bean. On occasion I like to add some coconut, caramel, and sea salt, perhaps some rosemary or citrus zest. Hell, even bacon. But, you can’t go wrong with good old plain hot sexy rich vanilla. So, he states that he ONLY likes rough sex. ONLY. Also, that he never lets a girl top him. Sex games can be great fun, as long as the emphasis is on FUN. If you aren’t doing it out of a mutual desire to enjoy and respect your partner, their body, and their boundaries , then it isn’t fun. Now, I suggested that his need for control might stem from the facts that he is a student without much control over his day-to-day life, his father handles his finances, pays his bills, etc. so perhaps it was the one time he felt he could be in control. He denied this but then later hinted at having been hurt by women in earlier relationships and this resentment being part of why he only has rough sex now, it detaches him. So, his sexual lifestyle is based on showing women what he can do and how in control he is, rather than them. He enjoys spanking and choking during sex as well. I think his style and his reasons are potentially volatile. I worry for him, that if he isn’t able to allow himself to trust and open up to a sexual partner, someone might get hurt. So, with all of this said, he is not in the running for a hot sex partner, but I’ll help him out with the exam and perhaps we will be friends.

When he arrives, I am already sitting in the back room and drinking my coffee. First physical impression, very cute. Adorable in fact. Holy dimples. I find it hard to believe that this cute thing is all about rough grudge fucking. Sad. We talk for an hour and the conversation is great, so good in fact, that I wish I had other info on him. If he was a huge snuggly thing that just liked regular sex, he could be very fun. He texted me later and asked if I had fun with him at our coffee date. I didn’t lie, I did. He’s charming.  But he is too risky.

I ran home, late, walked the dog, fed her, myself and jumped in the shower… late. Then a public transportation delay and late. But sweet goodness, my Future Lawyer who wants to save the world, was also late! Sigh of relief. Sometimes the unpredictability of public transportation is fantastic. We met at a bookstore café and then walked down to a small club listen to some jazz. This place has been in business for nearly 70 years. Great little hole in the wall.

We had four cocktails and great conversation. He’s studying for his bar this year, he is an RA at his university, he likes his parents and respects that I don’t like mine. (Shhh, he’s a Jew too, of course, duh) We eventually kissed and the boy has some great lips. So, we left, and thought about going somewhere else, only to realize that everything closes early in this town anyway. We made out for a while outside but it was freezing, we then decided to walk through the closed mall in an attempt to warm up while we planned out next move. It turned out that our next move involved an hour of making out on a bench in the mall, partially hidden by shrubbery in their faux indoor garden, we were mostly incognito. We hit 2nd base easily and it was fun. THEN, as things were more and more heated, and I leaned back a bit on the bench so he could lean into me, I put us just enough in view, that the security guard walking by saw us. Needless to say we were halted and thrown out of the mall by a mall cop younger than both of us. I would have been humiliated had it not been so damn hot.

We parted ways at the cab stand outside and texted each other a few pleasantries of what a great night it was and how we really enjoyed each other before sleep hit at 3:45 am.

Now, 12 hours later, I am meeting a 37 year old professional photographer for coffee, and running late because of the writing of this post.

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I have delayed this post because I didn’t really know what to say about it. I got home Sunday night from my cupcake excursion and was sitting on the couch with my pup avoiding some real work that I SHOULD have done. Instead, I chose to troll the online dating sites to see if anyone was on-line and worthy of chatting with. It was only 8:15 and I was a little bored. I started chatting with this nice recently divorced, new dad to lab puppy, special education teacher with a background in furniture building. He has great taste in music, such as Cash, Waits, Cohen, etc. and seems to appreciate dry, sardonic humor. Overall, seemed like a chill relaxed kind of guy.

He asked if I wanted to meet for a cocktail and, well, the forecast called for a shit storm of rain,sleet, snow and wind, so I convinced him to meet me the following afternoon for coffee. As we were coming up with a place and time to meet I mentioned my intense dislike for the neighborhood I live in, he laughed, as he lived in the same area, just a mile away. We decided to meet for a couple cocktails that night, despite the weather, since a ten minute walk to the bar is nothing compared to what my dog puts me through in worse meteorological conditions.

He warned me he was shy, so I knew this walking in. He arrived a few minutes after me. He has that look of every semi alt country, indie introverted Johnny Cash loving man alive. The 50’s looking patterned snap button down, the non jean utilitarian pant, the chunky shoe, the mussed up hair… and of course, they always have glasses. He was cute and painfully shy. While I enjoyed his company for that hour, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere, other than friends. I don’t have anything bad to say about him and really do wish him the best. Maybe I can get one of my friends to go out with him. No, I thought he was a nice guy, don’t want to do that to him.

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