A man wrote a poem for me. But that isn't as cheesy as it sounds. He's a real poet, already published and getting his doctorate at one of this city's fine universities.
He is a friend of a friend whom some of you may know as HT, but now he's FHT. FHT wanted us to meet because he said we have a lot in common, especially our emotional health disorders and grad student life. Sounded like a set-up to me. He claimed it wasn't that afterwards, but...He drove me to this man's apartment in Cobble Hill. I mostly went for the ride in his jeep, on a beautiful summer day a drive over the Brooklyn Bridge provided relief from the oppressive uptown concrete heat. When the poet guy answered the door his face lit up in obvious surprise at seeing me. FHT and the Poet caught up with each other. I tried to be polite but didn't say much. Being angry at FHT for setting me up with this guy whom I found totally unappealing put me in a stinky mood.
The Poet asked me a lot of questions drawing me into a conversation. I was not friendly, not encouraging and not loquacious. I presented myself in Ice Queen Witch mode. In response to my reticence he brought out his guitar to play and sing some songs he'd written--very cheesy. FHT watched all of this in bemused silence. Then we went to lunch. The poet recommended this middle eastern place down the street. While waiting on our food, the men talked and I played with my fork dragging the tines on my napkin. Poet noticed my fork fiddling and said that was an aggressive behavior suggesting anger. I shrugged.
FHT had wanted us to meet because we had so much in common, like the guy is bi-polar and lonely. I'm not bi-polar but FHT didn't know the difference and he seemed to have taken us both on as service projects. Anyway, the Poet brought up the subject of medication and doctors. He asked me for specific details about my problems and boldly shared some of his horror stories. What I learned that day: Don't ever mix large amounts of alcohol with large amounts of Xanax while manic or you could wake up a week later several states away and not know how you got there.
One of my biggest problems in life right now is my lack of insurance and dependence on mental health care. The State of New York pays for this dude's medical care. I had looked into that but my income surpasses the limit. Poet said there were ways around that, I was skeptical but he offered to talk to his doctor to see what I could do. Which meant he needed my phone number. I'm a sucker for discount medical care so I gave him the digits.
A few days later the poet called and asked me out in a stealth-date manner. (That's fodder for another post.) I couldn't say no when he asked me because I'm very bad at it and he had manipulated the conversation such that he made it even more awkward and difficult. I should have found a way to decline anyway. We went out that weekend. During the beginning of our date he gave me an envelope. Told me not to open it, inside was a poem he wrote for me. He said that on the day we met he just sat down and wrote it quickly. He hadn't written anything that way in a long time. He thought it was a good poem, publishable, but I couldn't read it until I got home.
I was impressed and a little freaked out. It sounds like a typical cheesy date ploy, like something you'd see on the 'Blind Date' show. It makes a difference to the value of the gesture that he has already published other poems. The way he described his fevered composition of the poem sounded sincere. I read it as soon as I got home. Stunning. With each reading I fell deeper into the layers of metaphor, savoring the images he created. It had a solemn tone. About the sadness he saw in 'me' and how he wanted to comfort 'me'. He didn't know me at all so it wasn't really about me. That poem and the elaborate lengths he took to impress me on our first date got him a second date. (I will tell that story in full someday.) We only went out twice because the next date was one of the worst dates in my whole life.
This happened in August of 2003.
Two weeks ago, I got a phone call from an unknown number. Curious, I picked it up. It was the poet calling to tell me the poem has been published in a very prestigious journal. He told me where I might find a copy. We exchanged niceties but he clearly wanted to get off the phone. So I let him go with the words, "Your poem was lovely, thank you." He said, "Well, you're a lovely woman, thank you."
Somewhere out there is a published poem written for me. Sort of. I can't believe this is my life. Any day now I expect the real person to knock on my door and ask for her life back. So much is happening right now. I can't even write about all of it. Maybe soon.
Showing posts with label HT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HT. Show all posts
1.24.2005
11.14.2004
The more I ignore him. . .
He must be really bored and desperate. Why is he still calling me? I don't answer the phone, I don't return his call and yet he keeps calling. Usually after his 2nd or 3rd message I'll call him back. He called me Halloween weekend. I didn't return his call. Then he called me the Monday/Tuesday after that. So I waited until last Saturday, the 6th to call him. He didn't answer, much to my relief so I left a message. He waited two days before he called me back. So I didn't answer and he left another message. I ignored it. Then he called me last night and I didn't answer. Then he called me again today and again I ignored the phone. He left me a message today, can't remember if he did yesterday or not. I haven't even listened to his latest message yet. Yeesh.
It's HT, those of you who have been following this blog awhile know him well. The one who won't go away. Probably because I'm the only woman in town he hasn't run off with his rude manners. If you can even call them manners. If you want to catch up on the HT story, I think you can do a search of my blog in the blogger bar at the top of the page.
I'm surreptitiously writing this post while my mother sleeps on my floor, only two feet away. (She came up here to do my laundry! She really does love me--BTW investing in an old lady shopping cart is worth every penny!! I didn't have to carry my 80 pounds of clothes the 3 blocks to the laundromat. But I've learned that the holes in the cart are big enough for socks and underwear to fall through. It's not cool to have to pick up your panties off the asphalt of a busy street. Next time I'll line the cart with a laundry bag like the other ladies do.) So, Mom has no knowledge of this blog and things need to stay that way. That's my excuse for being too lazy to type in some links for you.
I still have to write about the last time HT took me to dinner a few weeks ago. I want to get rid of him because he's just no fun, completely inconsiderate and I always feel depressed after I'm with him. I only called him back after his first message because he told me he has cancer. Rather, he had it, it was skin cancer and they cut it off his arm, end of story. And last time I saw him he had a sunburn so it's his own dang fault. Who doesn't wear sunscreen AFTER getting skin cancer?
Wow, I never finished my Atlanta story either. No one knows what happened with George that weekend. I am the Queen of Tease. Hey, you don't stay a virgin this long without learning some skills.
My mom snores! Who knew? You know what's a fun trick? Sending your mom cab directions to your house by email then having her call you to say she can't believe where you're living and that she nearly croaked when she read it. And then listening to her prattle on about how scary my neighborhood is and she can't believe I moved here. Gave me a good laugh. When I asked how she knew, she said she's read about it in detective novels and seen it in TV cops shows and movies. I thought she would be reassured when I told her about the police truck parked in front of the building but I think that upset her even more. Come on, how much safer can you get than to have a marked armored police surveillance truck right outside your front door?
SUNDAY UPDATE: Whoa, he called me twice today too. Something serious must be going down. I suppose I should listen to his messages.
For those who don't know: HT is not trying to date me. He made it as clear as possible for him last time we were together that he doesn't want to date me. He is using me as female company, but of course does not want to lose me as a romantic possibility so he won't cut me off.
*MONDAY UPDATE* True to form, HT confuses. Friday he called to say he wanted his book back, one he had lent me, because he wanted to lend it to someone else. Then he called me again on Sunday to see if I wanted a ride to Stake Conference. The third call of Sunday evening is unaccounted for since he didn't leave a message. I'll call him on Tuesday and arrange a time when he can get his book back. I'm betting he has some drama with another woman and he wants to talk to me about it. He might genuinely be worried about me since he knows I don't answer the phone when I'm depressed (when he calls anyway). But that's kind of far-fetched since he's not big on consideration.
WEDNESDAY After dropping mom off and while waiting for my train at the JFK station, I called HT. I said I got his message about his book, that he wanted to lend it to someone. He said he did but now he can't remember who he wanted to loan it to. He asked how I was doing. Then he had to go because he was driving ms. daisy today (Ms. Violet). He said he'd call me later. Hmmmm.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
It's HT, those of you who have been following this blog awhile know him well. The one who won't go away. Probably because I'm the only woman in town he hasn't run off with his rude manners. If you can even call them manners. If you want to catch up on the HT story, I think you can do a search of my blog in the blogger bar at the top of the page.
I'm surreptitiously writing this post while my mother sleeps on my floor, only two feet away. (She came up here to do my laundry! She really does love me--BTW investing in an old lady shopping cart is worth every penny!! I didn't have to carry my 80 pounds of clothes the 3 blocks to the laundromat. But I've learned that the holes in the cart are big enough for socks and underwear to fall through. It's not cool to have to pick up your panties off the asphalt of a busy street. Next time I'll line the cart with a laundry bag like the other ladies do.) So, Mom has no knowledge of this blog and things need to stay that way. That's my excuse for being too lazy to type in some links for you.
I still have to write about the last time HT took me to dinner a few weeks ago. I want to get rid of him because he's just no fun, completely inconsiderate and I always feel depressed after I'm with him. I only called him back after his first message because he told me he has cancer. Rather, he had it, it was skin cancer and they cut it off his arm, end of story. And last time I saw him he had a sunburn so it's his own dang fault. Who doesn't wear sunscreen AFTER getting skin cancer?
Wow, I never finished my Atlanta story either. No one knows what happened with George that weekend. I am the Queen of Tease. Hey, you don't stay a virgin this long without learning some skills.
My mom snores! Who knew? You know what's a fun trick? Sending your mom cab directions to your house by email then having her call you to say she can't believe where you're living and that she nearly croaked when she read it. And then listening to her prattle on about how scary my neighborhood is and she can't believe I moved here. Gave me a good laugh. When I asked how she knew, she said she's read about it in detective novels and seen it in TV cops shows and movies. I thought she would be reassured when I told her about the police truck parked in front of the building but I think that upset her even more. Come on, how much safer can you get than to have a marked armored police surveillance truck right outside your front door?
SUNDAY UPDATE: Whoa, he called me twice today too. Something serious must be going down. I suppose I should listen to his messages.
For those who don't know: HT is not trying to date me. He made it as clear as possible for him last time we were together that he doesn't want to date me. He is using me as female company, but of course does not want to lose me as a romantic possibility so he won't cut me off.
*MONDAY UPDATE* True to form, HT confuses. Friday he called to say he wanted his book back, one he had lent me, because he wanted to lend it to someone else. Then he called me again on Sunday to see if I wanted a ride to Stake Conference. The third call of Sunday evening is unaccounted for since he didn't leave a message. I'll call him on Tuesday and arrange a time when he can get his book back. I'm betting he has some drama with another woman and he wants to talk to me about it. He might genuinely be worried about me since he knows I don't answer the phone when I'm depressed (when he calls anyway). But that's kind of far-fetched since he's not big on consideration.
WEDNESDAY After dropping mom off and while waiting for my train at the JFK station, I called HT. I said I got his message about his book, that he wanted to lend it to someone. He said he did but now he can't remember who he wanted to loan it to. He asked how I was doing. Then he had to go because he was driving ms. daisy today (Ms. Violet). He said he'd call me later. Hmmmm.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
11.03.2004
I Know that I'm the most inept
DISCLAIMER: This is a long and whiny post. Read at your own peril.
I find myself inert at the one thing I could always do. The one thing I never lost interest in suddenly repulses me. Ok, not so suddenly. I haven't finished a paper since December 2002. Last December I sat at my computer and then the computers at school trying to finish a paper, desperately wanting to finish that paper...I found myself paralyzed. I tried everything I could think of. But I wasn't interested in the thesis for one thing. I only chose it because the a-hole who has a crush on me stole my topic. Which he knew was my specialty subject. I couldn't tell if he did it for revenge for my lack of interest or his warped attempt to capture my interest.
He is so clueless! He just called me on Sunday and left a message asking me out. LOL. I haven't called him back yet. Last year he tricked me into having a date with him that totally sucked and he's still trying? He's lucky I don't hate him for what he did. The first thing he did was an extra credit presentation on my subject so I had to present on something else. Then he told me he was writing his paper on my topic. I didn't want to compete with him because he's one of those annoying over-working people. His presentation lasted an hour when it was supposed to be 15 minutes. So I ended up writing about something boring and couldn't finish the paper. Then he told me in February he didn't write about it afterall! He changed his mind. Oh yeah. He's a special one.
So last winter I had this awful 'holiday'. I couldn't finish that paper. And I still had to get my grades in. But I didn't finish grading their papers on time. The provost and others called me about my overdue grades. I ended up rushing them but messed a lot up so I spent two months making corrections.
Now when I sit down to write I stare at the blank screen, type in the preliminary stuff, type my thesis statement and then when I'm ready to go, I get nauseous. My mind refuses to co-operate. I process the arguments and ready myself to write them out and then I shut down. This is the point when I cry or blog or go numb because it's easier not to feel the frustration and anger. I want to write the damn paper. I don't know how anymore. How can that be? I've been doing this for 9 years! I used to write papers in my sleep. I could crank out a 6 pager in 3 hours and get an A in grad school. October 11th I had a 5 pager due. I had a thesis. Then I did the reading but what I needed to find wasn't there. The paper suddenly became more difficult than I could manage in the two days I had.
That's when I stalled. I missed the deadline. And then the weekend was over and I had to do the reading for my monday night class, which reading I did not have because I skipped the last class because I was very late. I forgot what time class started. I annoyed the prof the previous week. So I didn't want to increase his disregard for me by bursting in late, disrupting class and looking like a jerk. Later I found out he assigned a one page essay. I didn't do it because I was still 'working' on the not even started paper and didn't have time to read the 100 pages I needed to. I skipped the next class out of shame. And then the next one after that because I still didn't have the essay. Now I'm 3 weeks behind in reading which he knows because he gives us the texts in class. I think we have a midterm next week. No way do I have time to catch up now.
For my students, I had to write 3 different midterm exams last week (because they cheat). Now I have to grade them and make a handout with their paper assignment and a guide to writing philosophy papers because they won't read the book I made them buy which explains philosophy writing . And I stopped going to the P.I. class because the prof asked me when I'd have the paper done. I couldn't force myself to keep going without it. The course ends next week because he's a visiting prof. Our final paper was due this week. So I'm failing. Drowning. I don't know what to do.
I can't be both a good teacher and a good student. So this term I tried to be a mediocre teacher and a mediocre student. But I can't be a mediocre student. I'd rather do nothing than crap. I only have time to write crap. Which would be good enough to pass. But I won't let myself do it despite all my efforts to convince me otherwise. I wish I could withdraw from my classes but my teaching fellowship requires us to be fulltime students. (How sick is that?) I feel so trapped.
Writing this I've realized that the repulsion is due to my feelings of failure, not the subject. That's good to know at least. I really need help but I don't know what kind. Any suggestions? I want to scream. I want to do violence to something. Gee, I bet sex would be great right now wouldn't it? Not that I would know. ~The hills are alive with celibate cries.~
I find myself inert at the one thing I could always do. The one thing I never lost interest in suddenly repulses me. Ok, not so suddenly. I haven't finished a paper since December 2002. Last December I sat at my computer and then the computers at school trying to finish a paper, desperately wanting to finish that paper...I found myself paralyzed. I tried everything I could think of. But I wasn't interested in the thesis for one thing. I only chose it because the a-hole who has a crush on me stole my topic. Which he knew was my specialty subject. I couldn't tell if he did it for revenge for my lack of interest or his warped attempt to capture my interest.
He is so clueless! He just called me on Sunday and left a message asking me out. LOL. I haven't called him back yet. Last year he tricked me into having a date with him that totally sucked and he's still trying? He's lucky I don't hate him for what he did. The first thing he did was an extra credit presentation on my subject so I had to present on something else. Then he told me he was writing his paper on my topic. I didn't want to compete with him because he's one of those annoying over-working people. His presentation lasted an hour when it was supposed to be 15 minutes. So I ended up writing about something boring and couldn't finish the paper. Then he told me in February he didn't write about it afterall! He changed his mind. Oh yeah. He's a special one.
So last winter I had this awful 'holiday'. I couldn't finish that paper. And I still had to get my grades in. But I didn't finish grading their papers on time. The provost and others called me about my overdue grades. I ended up rushing them but messed a lot up so I spent two months making corrections.
Now when I sit down to write I stare at the blank screen, type in the preliminary stuff, type my thesis statement and then when I'm ready to go, I get nauseous. My mind refuses to co-operate. I process the arguments and ready myself to write them out and then I shut down. This is the point when I cry or blog or go numb because it's easier not to feel the frustration and anger. I want to write the damn paper. I don't know how anymore. How can that be? I've been doing this for 9 years! I used to write papers in my sleep. I could crank out a 6 pager in 3 hours and get an A in grad school. October 11th I had a 5 pager due. I had a thesis. Then I did the reading but what I needed to find wasn't there. The paper suddenly became more difficult than I could manage in the two days I had.
That's when I stalled. I missed the deadline. And then the weekend was over and I had to do the reading for my monday night class, which reading I did not have because I skipped the last class because I was very late. I forgot what time class started. I annoyed the prof the previous week. So I didn't want to increase his disregard for me by bursting in late, disrupting class and looking like a jerk. Later I found out he assigned a one page essay. I didn't do it because I was still 'working' on the not even started paper and didn't have time to read the 100 pages I needed to. I skipped the next class out of shame. And then the next one after that because I still didn't have the essay. Now I'm 3 weeks behind in reading which he knows because he gives us the texts in class. I think we have a midterm next week. No way do I have time to catch up now.
For my students, I had to write 3 different midterm exams last week (because they cheat). Now I have to grade them and make a handout with their paper assignment and a guide to writing philosophy papers because they won't read the book I made them buy which explains philosophy writing . And I stopped going to the P.I. class because the prof asked me when I'd have the paper done. I couldn't force myself to keep going without it. The course ends next week because he's a visiting prof. Our final paper was due this week. So I'm failing. Drowning. I don't know what to do.
I can't be both a good teacher and a good student. So this term I tried to be a mediocre teacher and a mediocre student. But I can't be a mediocre student. I'd rather do nothing than crap. I only have time to write crap. Which would be good enough to pass. But I won't let myself do it despite all my efforts to convince me otherwise. I wish I could withdraw from my classes but my teaching fellowship requires us to be fulltime students. (How sick is that?) I feel so trapped.
Writing this I've realized that the repulsion is due to my feelings of failure, not the subject. That's good to know at least. I really need help but I don't know what kind. Any suggestions? I want to scream. I want to do violence to something. Gee, I bet sex would be great right now wouldn't it? Not that I would know. ~The hills are alive with celibate cries.~
Collection:
Adjuncting,
Dating,
HT
10.09.2004
Unsolved Mysteries
Not anymore. I have figured out the enigma that was HT. Whew. Glad that's done with. He is off the list of possible men. Back to his usual tricks the other night when we had dinner together.
More on this later because it's 4 am and I really should go to bed before I turn into an insomniac again.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
More on this later because it's 4 am and I really should go to bed before I turn into an insomniac again.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
Collection:
HT
10.02.2004
Dearest Readers,
Thank you for all the love and support. Despite all my recent talk of simulacra and pretend friends, I have found genuine warmth extended through the ether of the internet. Here is evidence that rather than isolate people, the internet can create new communities. I enjoy this community very much. And I'm not sure that going to a party to socialize with a bunch of phony people by putting on our masks to match theirs is a better social experience than communicating with people online who are brutally honest because they need no mask. Which brings us to the big news.
Here's the big news: No man can keep me down, this blog lives! I made some mistakes which I regret and will not repeat. I've mourned a loss. And even though I missed the last bus to Boston, I am de-funkdifying myself. I don't have time to be in a funk. Much has happened in the last two weeks with this blog and my life.
Several blog milestones passed in the last two weeks. Celibate in the City had its 6 month birthday. We had our 10,000th visitor! Soon to be 11,000 by the looks of things. The average daily hits have doubled since the blind date post, thank you Steve and Kaimi, the hits also stayed high by the linkage to the PoMo post, thanks to Naked Villainy and Times & Seasons again, and thanks to everyone else who also linked to it. [The discovery drama probably lured many of you back as well. I might post the details in the future, but I might not.]
Those of you who particularly enjoyed the PoMo post owe a thanks to the Maximum Leader of Naked Villainy (a quality group blog about politics, current events and the dissemination of Mike's World Order). I put up the post and he linked to it. Then a few hours later I pulled the post down, deciding that I didn't want to scare away my readers with something that boring. Well, I've learned my lesson and won't do that again! You can read the Maximum Leader's post about it here. As a direct result of his link and an email regarding the post, I put it back up for your viewing pleasure. In fact, the reaction to that post was so great that I plan to do more posts of that nature in the future. I'm not sure what that means yet but I'll figure it out.
In dating news this week, HT called out of the blue and wants to catch up, he was out of state and had all kinds of crazy bad things happening. I haven't gotten around to returning his call. And another forgotten man from my past (whom I did not post about yet) also called "because he just re-read a text message I sent him in March and wondered what I was up to." Right. He also told me his life story for the last few months on my voicemail. I did not care to call him back so he accosted me via IM. He signed on visibly for the first time since we stopped talking in March. He probably just got dumped so he was lonely on a Friday night. More about that guy to follow soon. Quite the dramatic week.
The final piece of blog business today is to thank Ebenezer Orthodoxy for the blogger comments hack, which I implemented a few days ago. So, if you hate blogger comments, you can now enjoy the improved version programmed by him. Help yourself to the code at EO's Blogger Hacks, and tip him for his trouble if you can. I'm still deciding if I want to add his recent comments hack or not. Let me know if you have an opinion.
Thank you everyone!!!!
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
Here's the big news: No man can keep me down, this blog lives! I made some mistakes which I regret and will not repeat. I've mourned a loss. And even though I missed the last bus to Boston, I am de-funkdifying myself. I don't have time to be in a funk. Much has happened in the last two weeks with this blog and my life.
Several blog milestones passed in the last two weeks. Celibate in the City had its 6 month birthday. We had our 10,000th visitor! Soon to be 11,000 by the looks of things. The average daily hits have doubled since the blind date post, thank you Steve and Kaimi, the hits also stayed high by the linkage to the PoMo post, thanks to Naked Villainy and Times & Seasons again, and thanks to everyone else who also linked to it. [The discovery drama probably lured many of you back as well. I might post the details in the future, but I might not.]
Those of you who particularly enjoyed the PoMo post owe a thanks to the Maximum Leader of Naked Villainy (a quality group blog about politics, current events and the dissemination of Mike's World Order). I put up the post and he linked to it. Then a few hours later I pulled the post down, deciding that I didn't want to scare away my readers with something that boring. Well, I've learned my lesson and won't do that again! You can read the Maximum Leader's post about it here. As a direct result of his link and an email regarding the post, I put it back up for your viewing pleasure. In fact, the reaction to that post was so great that I plan to do more posts of that nature in the future. I'm not sure what that means yet but I'll figure it out.
In dating news this week, HT called out of the blue and wants to catch up, he was out of state and had all kinds of crazy bad things happening. I haven't gotten around to returning his call. And another forgotten man from my past (whom I did not post about yet) also called "because he just re-read a text message I sent him in March and wondered what I was up to." Right. He also told me his life story for the last few months on my voicemail. I did not care to call him back so he accosted me via IM. He signed on visibly for the first time since we stopped talking in March. He probably just got dumped so he was lonely on a Friday night. More about that guy to follow soon. Quite the dramatic week.
The final piece of blog business today is to thank Ebenezer Orthodoxy for the blogger comments hack, which I implemented a few days ago. So, if you hate blogger comments, you can now enjoy the improved version programmed by him. Help yourself to the code at EO's Blogger Hacks, and tip him for his trouble if you can. I'm still deciding if I want to add his recent comments hack or not. Let me know if you have an opinion.
Thank you everyone!!!!
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
6.13.2004
He Stealth Dated Me
Ah, yes. And now I will write the details of my stealth date with the home teacher (aka HT).
Here's how it happened. I had avoided him a bit since the BBQ when he made it unmistakably clear that he had new interests in me. But Monday morning he called in the morning when he know I'd be sleeping and wouldn't answer the phone. He left a strange message saying that he had a question for me, no he didn't, yes he did. He's subletting his place and wants to know if I'm interested blah blah. I called him back later in the afternoon. I told him I had 3 days left in the country. He asked me if I had plans for Tuesday night. I did not. He said he'd be cooking dinner and could cook for both of us if I'd like to come over. It could be my farewell dinner. I said yes.
I wondered if he had special plans for the evening but I thought it not likely. He's cooked me dinner before and we hung out in his place for hours just talking. I didn't think he'd have the initiative to actually make a move.
Tuesday night as I walked up his block, I saw him on his neighbor's stoop, they're old friends and had talked about real estate stuff. HT surprised me by wearing a button-down, collared linen shirt and his fancy flip flops. He was working the southern california cool look. He looked at me and said, "So, I was thinking of going out to eat instead. I don't really feel like cooking." !!! I know he had to see the surprise and shock in my face. He gave me three options of food venues, all real restaurants, and also asked if I had a favorite place I'd like to go to instead. I told him that I don't eat at restaurants that don't have value-meals or cost over $5 so I had no favorite restaurant. I told him to choose because I was tired of making decisions. So we took the subway to the west-side, to one of his favorite italian restaurants, Pomodoro. It was excellent.
The atmospere definitely aimed for romance, with candles and all. He ordered an appetizer for us to split. At this point, I figured this must be a date. But I still prepared to pay for the meal and not expect anything from the man who surprised me so many times before. HT even complimented me on the shirt I had on, he'd never done that before. Then, before the appetizer he said he hasn't been out in ages. I said me too. Then he said he hasn't had a date in months, not since he went out with Cruella. I told him I had him beat because I hadn't been on a date since December and that hardly counted anyway. Even I know that this meant he wanted this to be a date and was letting me know that too. I was so pleased to be out somewhere nice, he is actually a good date and not rude at all.
That lead me to the conclusion that last summer he was rude to me to make sure I didn't think he wanted to date me. Good to know but I wish he had made it clearer then. We had a nice meal and then ordered desserts. When the check came I asked if he wanted to split it evenly between us and he said no. I asked if he was sure and he said no again, this was his going away gift.
He invited me to watch a movie with him at his place but I declined since I had so much to do. But after the meal I walked to his apt. to see if the fan he picked up off the curb worked or not. I laughed that he carried the big industrial fan all the way back to Harlem. We bet $5 on whether it worked or not. It did work but made a hideous noise. So I said we had a draw, since it worked but was unusable. He walked me out to the street and gave me a hug. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left his arm around my shoulders longer than necessary. I thanked him for dinner and he told me to email him while away. He asked me to call him when I got home and he'd give me his email address.
Ok, so HT had NEVER kissed me on the cheek before in all the two years we've known each other. And it was a sloppy one too. The next day he called me to say goodbye and said we'd talk about stuff when I got home. We don't have any stuff to talk about. Unless he wants us to have some stuff to talk about and that's the stuff he wants to talk about. So, that was a real date. I was excited because it had been so long, actually 10 months since a man had taken me out to dinner. It's really nice to eat with someone and have their undivided attention for a few hours.
I haven't emailed him yet. Time is running out on my internet card. The end for now.
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Here's how it happened. I had avoided him a bit since the BBQ when he made it unmistakably clear that he had new interests in me. But Monday morning he called in the morning when he know I'd be sleeping and wouldn't answer the phone. He left a strange message saying that he had a question for me, no he didn't, yes he did. He's subletting his place and wants to know if I'm interested blah blah. I called him back later in the afternoon. I told him I had 3 days left in the country. He asked me if I had plans for Tuesday night. I did not. He said he'd be cooking dinner and could cook for both of us if I'd like to come over. It could be my farewell dinner. I said yes.
I wondered if he had special plans for the evening but I thought it not likely. He's cooked me dinner before and we hung out in his place for hours just talking. I didn't think he'd have the initiative to actually make a move.
Tuesday night as I walked up his block, I saw him on his neighbor's stoop, they're old friends and had talked about real estate stuff. HT surprised me by wearing a button-down, collared linen shirt and his fancy flip flops. He was working the southern california cool look. He looked at me and said, "So, I was thinking of going out to eat instead. I don't really feel like cooking." !!! I know he had to see the surprise and shock in my face. He gave me three options of food venues, all real restaurants, and also asked if I had a favorite place I'd like to go to instead. I told him that I don't eat at restaurants that don't have value-meals or cost over $5 so I had no favorite restaurant. I told him to choose because I was tired of making decisions. So we took the subway to the west-side, to one of his favorite italian restaurants, Pomodoro. It was excellent.
The atmospere definitely aimed for romance, with candles and all. He ordered an appetizer for us to split. At this point, I figured this must be a date. But I still prepared to pay for the meal and not expect anything from the man who surprised me so many times before. HT even complimented me on the shirt I had on, he'd never done that before. Then, before the appetizer he said he hasn't been out in ages. I said me too. Then he said he hasn't had a date in months, not since he went out with Cruella. I told him I had him beat because I hadn't been on a date since December and that hardly counted anyway. Even I know that this meant he wanted this to be a date and was letting me know that too. I was so pleased to be out somewhere nice, he is actually a good date and not rude at all.
That lead me to the conclusion that last summer he was rude to me to make sure I didn't think he wanted to date me. Good to know but I wish he had made it clearer then. We had a nice meal and then ordered desserts. When the check came I asked if he wanted to split it evenly between us and he said no. I asked if he was sure and he said no again, this was his going away gift.
He invited me to watch a movie with him at his place but I declined since I had so much to do. But after the meal I walked to his apt. to see if the fan he picked up off the curb worked or not. I laughed that he carried the big industrial fan all the way back to Harlem. We bet $5 on whether it worked or not. It did work but made a hideous noise. So I said we had a draw, since it worked but was unusable. He walked me out to the street and gave me a hug. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left his arm around my shoulders longer than necessary. I thanked him for dinner and he told me to email him while away. He asked me to call him when I got home and he'd give me his email address.
Ok, so HT had NEVER kissed me on the cheek before in all the two years we've known each other. And it was a sloppy one too. The next day he called me to say goodbye and said we'd talk about stuff when I got home. We don't have any stuff to talk about. Unless he wants us to have some stuff to talk about and that's the stuff he wants to talk about. So, that was a real date. I was excited because it had been so long, actually 10 months since a man had taken me out to dinner. It's really nice to eat with someone and have their undivided attention for a few hours.
I haven't emailed him yet. Time is running out on my internet card. The end for now.
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6.10.2004
So sorry but
I have been 'packing since 10 pm and it's now 6 am and i have completed almost nothing because I have ADD and packing is a total nightmare for me. I feel like I've been stuck in a mirror maze funhouse for hours and hours and hours. I can't organize, or keep track, or make little decisions....I leave in about 8 hours and have nothing packed and still have errands to run. So, I'm not going to be able to write about my date until later. I really meant to. This wasn't supposed to be this bad. I always forget I'm so packing-retarded.
I want to scream. I did scream. Several times. Check back in a couple days. But I can tell you HT called to say goodbye and to give me his email address. The last thing he said was that he'll see me when I get back and we can talk about stuff. Unless he is in Spain for the rest of the summer. So, if he's around I guess we'll discuss our dating or not. I'm leaning towards not.
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I want to scream. I did scream. Several times. Check back in a couple days. But I can tell you HT called to say goodbye and to give me his email address. The last thing he said was that he'll see me when I get back and we can talk about stuff. Unless he is in Spain for the rest of the summer. So, if he's around I guess we'll discuss our dating or not. I'm leaning towards not.
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6.09.2004
Guess What?
HT took me out on a real, actual non-ambiguous date tonight! He paid and wasn't wearing a t-shirt.
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Collection:
HT
6.04.2004
The Voicemail Mystery
My courage is at it's peak
You know what I mean
How do say you're O.K. to
An answering machine?
Voicemail games always bring that song to my mind. Technology has changed the dating games we play, both email and fancy phone features have really muddied things. I remember the days before caller ID, way back when I was an undergrad in the mid-90s. I could call my dating target 20 times a day without him ever knowing it, as long as I hung up before the answering machine caught me. (But I only did this to one person when I was a first-year and 18 years old, honest!) The risk came from mis-calculating the number of rings before the machine recorded a hang-up, and the possibility that the person was actually home screening calls. Either way, he equally busted you for your psycho-obsessive lameness.
Those days are long gone. Thanks to caller-ID, no one can get away with the blitzkrieg calling tactic, not without sacrificing one's dignity. My best friend's ex-boyfriend actually denied calling her when his number showed up on her caller-id. She asked him how his number got there if he hadn't called and he said, "I don't know." Genius. She regrets letting that one get away. He also broke up with her after three years via email.
Obviously, breaking up by email after three years is more than insulting. But other things aren't as clear. Many single folk struggle with the phone message question. One of my friends says he never, ever leaves a message when he pursues a woman. Because you never know if she got your message and then you wonder if you should call back but if you do and she got your message then you look like a loser. He has a good point. But if you never leave a message, you may never reach the person. So, what do you say if you do leave a message? And how long is too long to wait before returning a call or getting offended at not having a call returned?
I think I waited too long and offended someone. While in Philadelphia for the holiday, I got a phone call from HT. I forgot to take my cell phone charger and my phone died when I got to Philly. I didn't mind. A few days without a cell phone is a nice break. So nice that when I got home on Tuesday I decided to continue the silence and not answer my phone all day. Nor did I check my messages. On Wednesday I mentally returned from the trip to go to my office and finish grading. Then I finally checked my messages.
HT called on Monday. He left a voicemail saying he was in the garden and didn't know if I was in town or not. But if I was, then I should call him. He was thinking of going to a movie or something later that night. He'll talk to me later.
Oops. He probably felt snubbed that I didn't return his call until Wednesday. I left him a message apologizing and explaining that I was away and being anti-social. I told him I finished all my work for the semester so he can call me back if he wants to. It's now Friday morning and he has not called. I don't mind, I've got too much to do anyway. But I can't help wondering. He's used to my anti-social stints and that I sometimes take a few days to return his calls. Maybe my unenthusiastic message scared him away? Except he's not good with hints, so maybe he is just returning the discourtesy? I couldn't tell from his message if he wanted the movie to be a date or not. He made it sound casual and we've gone to the movies before. But...
Standard practice for phone messages is to play it down as casually as possible. That way you can pretend you didn't mean for the person to think you wanted a date. Most people leave messages saying something like: 'Hey, it's so and so. Just calling to say hi and to see what you were up to tonight/today/this weekend. I was thinking of doing x. If you want to come too give me a call." That way you can still keep your dignity if no one calls back. Hmm. That's exactly the message HT left me. OK, fine. He was probably asking me out via voicemail. Now I may or may not have offended him and/or sent him the 'no' signal. There's no way to know.
Try to breathe some life into a letter
Losing hope, never gonna be together ...
How do you say I miss you
To an answering machine?
How do you say I'm lonely
To an answering machine?
The message is very plain
Oh, I hate your answering machine.
--the Replacements,"I hate your answering machine"
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.
You know what I mean
How do say you're O.K. to
An answering machine?
Voicemail games always bring that song to my mind. Technology has changed the dating games we play, both email and fancy phone features have really muddied things. I remember the days before caller ID, way back when I was an undergrad in the mid-90s. I could call my dating target 20 times a day without him ever knowing it, as long as I hung up before the answering machine caught me. (But I only did this to one person when I was a first-year and 18 years old, honest!) The risk came from mis-calculating the number of rings before the machine recorded a hang-up, and the possibility that the person was actually home screening calls. Either way, he equally busted you for your psycho-obsessive lameness.
Those days are long gone. Thanks to caller-ID, no one can get away with the blitzkrieg calling tactic, not without sacrificing one's dignity. My best friend's ex-boyfriend actually denied calling her when his number showed up on her caller-id. She asked him how his number got there if he hadn't called and he said, "I don't know." Genius. She regrets letting that one get away. He also broke up with her after three years via email.
Obviously, breaking up by email after three years is more than insulting. But other things aren't as clear. Many single folk struggle with the phone message question. One of my friends says he never, ever leaves a message when he pursues a woman. Because you never know if she got your message and then you wonder if you should call back but if you do and she got your message then you look like a loser. He has a good point. But if you never leave a message, you may never reach the person. So, what do you say if you do leave a message? And how long is too long to wait before returning a call or getting offended at not having a call returned?
I think I waited too long and offended someone. While in Philadelphia for the holiday, I got a phone call from HT. I forgot to take my cell phone charger and my phone died when I got to Philly. I didn't mind. A few days without a cell phone is a nice break. So nice that when I got home on Tuesday I decided to continue the silence and not answer my phone all day. Nor did I check my messages. On Wednesday I mentally returned from the trip to go to my office and finish grading. Then I finally checked my messages.
HT called on Monday. He left a voicemail saying he was in the garden and didn't know if I was in town or not. But if I was, then I should call him. He was thinking of going to a movie or something later that night. He'll talk to me later.
Oops. He probably felt snubbed that I didn't return his call until Wednesday. I left him a message apologizing and explaining that I was away and being anti-social. I told him I finished all my work for the semester so he can call me back if he wants to. It's now Friday morning and he has not called. I don't mind, I've got too much to do anyway. But I can't help wondering. He's used to my anti-social stints and that I sometimes take a few days to return his calls. Maybe my unenthusiastic message scared him away? Except he's not good with hints, so maybe he is just returning the discourtesy? I couldn't tell from his message if he wanted the movie to be a date or not. He made it sound casual and we've gone to the movies before. But...
Standard practice for phone messages is to play it down as casually as possible. That way you can pretend you didn't mean for the person to think you wanted a date. Most people leave messages saying something like: 'Hey, it's so and so. Just calling to say hi and to see what you were up to tonight/today/this weekend. I was thinking of doing x. If you want to come too give me a call." That way you can still keep your dignity if no one calls back. Hmm. That's exactly the message HT left me. OK, fine. He was probably asking me out via voicemail. Now I may or may not have offended him and/or sent him the 'no' signal. There's no way to know.
Try to breathe some life into a letter
Losing hope, never gonna be together ...
How do you say I miss you
To an answering machine?
How do you say I'm lonely
To an answering machine?
The message is very plain
Oh, I hate your answering machine.
--the Replacements,"I hate your answering machine"
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6.01.2004
The Sexual language of strawberries
They promised to have a roasted pig. The missionaries said they'd roast a whole pig for our church BBQ this weekend. They did not, thankfully. One of the best things about not being in a traditional ward is the food selection at church functions. Only two people brought dishes from the mayonnaise food group: one potato salad and one crab pasta salad. No jello. No casserole. No bag of grocery store stale white bread rolls. I had two bowls of home-made pico de gallo salsa made with avocado. It was so good, I ate it with a spoon.
HT arrived after I did. While I watched one of the toddlers, given instructions not to let him wander into the street nor back to the garden, HT asked me to come back and check out our plants. I said no because I had to watch the kid. He wasn't having it, so he told a girl nearby to watch the boy for a minute. Oh, so that's how it's going to be? Ok, I followed him behind the roses. He picked our first strawberry and ate half of it, then he offered me the last bite. I said 'no thank you'. He said, "Come on, it's the fruit of your labor." I looked down at the red and white pulpy berry in his hands. I could see his teeth marks in the white meat. No. "No, I'll have the next one. It's ok."
After an hour or so I went home. I told Barbara about HT's attentions. How he put his arm around my shoulders but I thought it was just friendly. She said, "A man and woman? I don't think that's friendly." Well, "I didn't like that he did it in front of EVERYBODY there." Then Barbara said, "Then that was not friendly! He was claiming his territory." But, "There were no other single men there, he had no reason to claim me." "It doesn't matter. You know how people are at church. They all saw it and now they're going to talk and it'll get around until everyone thinks you're together." Ugh. "No, I don't think that's what he was doing."
Then I told her about the strawberry. "He fed you a strawberry?!" "No! He tried to." "You are in such denial. Feeding you a strawberry is flirting." "Well, ok, maybe that's true for normal people but this is HT. You know how weird he is." "I know it, but it doesn't matter. HE FED YOU A STRAWBERRY!"
He also sat next to me when he didn't have to, and he tasted the salsa from my bowl with my spoon. Then when he said goodbye he kept looking at me, lingering. His eyes smiled at me. That I couldn't deny. That look in his eyes was new. Did I miss something? Why is he looking at me like that?
"What are you going to about this? You should talk to him." Barbara wanted me to make a decision. "Why do I have to do anything? I'm leaving soon and by the time I come back he'll be into someone else." "Because he fed you a strawberry. Do you want to do it directly or indirectly?" Then she started telling me the various ways I could reject HT's advances. She witnessed the whole summer debacle with him in 2003. She also knows a lot about these things and helped me reject someone else. "I'm not doing anything."
I'm not sure I want to resolve this. No drama, not now. Sunday I slept through church again. Maybe I can slip away from all this.
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HT arrived after I did. While I watched one of the toddlers, given instructions not to let him wander into the street nor back to the garden, HT asked me to come back and check out our plants. I said no because I had to watch the kid. He wasn't having it, so he told a girl nearby to watch the boy for a minute. Oh, so that's how it's going to be? Ok, I followed him behind the roses. He picked our first strawberry and ate half of it, then he offered me the last bite. I said 'no thank you'. He said, "Come on, it's the fruit of your labor." I looked down at the red and white pulpy berry in his hands. I could see his teeth marks in the white meat. No. "No, I'll have the next one. It's ok."
After an hour or so I went home. I told Barbara about HT's attentions. How he put his arm around my shoulders but I thought it was just friendly. She said, "A man and woman? I don't think that's friendly." Well, "I didn't like that he did it in front of EVERYBODY there." Then Barbara said, "Then that was not friendly! He was claiming his territory." But, "There were no other single men there, he had no reason to claim me." "It doesn't matter. You know how people are at church. They all saw it and now they're going to talk and it'll get around until everyone thinks you're together." Ugh. "No, I don't think that's what he was doing."
Then I told her about the strawberry. "He fed you a strawberry?!" "No! He tried to." "You are in such denial. Feeding you a strawberry is flirting." "Well, ok, maybe that's true for normal people but this is HT. You know how weird he is." "I know it, but it doesn't matter. HE FED YOU A STRAWBERRY!"
He also sat next to me when he didn't have to, and he tasted the salsa from my bowl with my spoon. Then when he said goodbye he kept looking at me, lingering. His eyes smiled at me. That I couldn't deny. That look in his eyes was new. Did I miss something? Why is he looking at me like that?
"What are you going to about this? You should talk to him." Barbara wanted me to make a decision. "Why do I have to do anything? I'm leaving soon and by the time I come back he'll be into someone else." "Because he fed you a strawberry. Do you want to do it directly or indirectly?" Then she started telling me the various ways I could reject HT's advances. She witnessed the whole summer debacle with him in 2003. She also knows a lot about these things and helped me reject someone else. "I'm not doing anything."
I'm not sure I want to resolve this. No drama, not now. Sunday I slept through church again. Maybe I can slip away from all this.
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5.28.2004
From Guggenheim heights to the underground in one night
Story continued from this post. Read that one first.
The Surprise
Sipping my ice water, I looked around his apartment. He actually decorated the place in a tasteful yet manly way. I waited for him to get dressed for the party because he had on jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers. I asked him if he had to get ready. He said he was ready when I was. Oh. So he was going to wear that.
People are more formal in the south when it comes to social events. Especially with dress. In Atlanta, one does not go out at night wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Having become an adult in that city, I learned its customs. Now I always feel a little put out when my dates don't dress up at all. It says that they aren't interested enough to put away their NoFear t-shirt and maybe wear clothes that require some color co-ordination.
Wearing his jeans, HT lead me to his car. As we headed downtown he told me we were going to pick up his friend Violet instead of going to the park. Excuse me? Huh? Another woman is coming with us? So that's when I started thinking maybe this wasn't a date. He was just trying to be nice by bringing me to a party so I could meet more people.
"Violet has a really cool penthouse", HT explained the situation with her. She is an eccentric older French woman who used to hang with Andy Warhol back in the day. She was also in the movie Midnight Cowboy. She joined the church in the 80s but never married, so she goes to the over-30s singles ward. HT met her there and does odd jobs for her, he said he likes to help her out. She's an artist too so she helps him with his work.
He didn't lie. Violet lives on the roof of the tallest building behind the Guggenheim. She owns the roof terrace. HT gave me the tour. Her place was cluttered, simple and not very big but two original Warhols hung on her living room wall. I gaped in awe like a tourist. Then he showed me around the terrace overlooking Central Park and the west side. NY had never looked so beautiful. From this height, there was no dirt or trash. The light was brighter, I could see clouds. I couldn't speak.
Violet needed help sorting out her papers before she went to France for the summer. So HT and I were going to help her before we went to the party. We all sat on the floor listening to old records and going through her lawsuit files. Violet over-directed us in a silly way and constantly scolded HT for not putting things in the right pile. He and I laughed at her fastidiousness. Then HT went to make us dinner. I was having fun.
"Do you want to eat on the terrace? If we go out there now, we could catch the sunset." "Absolutely." HT and I went outside and pulled chairs up to the western edge of the roof. Violet stayed in the kitchen. We talked as we ate and saw the most glorious breath-taking sunset I've seen in years. The sun dipped behing the gothic sky-line as the lights from the buildings faded on, the trees of the park shadowed over. HT seemed a little nervous. He told me more about himself, what he did before he came to NY and why he was here. He pointed out the little ant joggers running around the reservoir. I leaned over the railing, arms spread-eagle pretending to be Leonardo diCaprio in Titanic. He chuckled. But I really did feel like a queen surveying manhattan from the towers.
That's the way to live in the city. Above the noise and grime. It was paradise. And I was with an interesting man telling me about his life. Did he bring me here to impress me? I was impressed. This felt like a date and it was going well. I wondered if I was charming him at all.
The sky quickly darkened so we went back in to get Violet. She had to put some pants on for the party. During the summer she just wears her g's around the house, with a loose top that's long enough to barely cover what needs covering. She told HT that she couldn't stay long at the party, he said he had to go to Williamsburg afterwards. I was glad to hear this because I usually hate parties.
The Party
In the car on the way, HT told me about his friend who worked for some law firm making big bucks. She has an apartment in the 50s near 9th Ave. When we arrived there were only a few other people. HT introduced me to the hostess. Then he wanted to show me her balcony. We went out and watched the boats drifting down the Hudson. After a few minutes HT went back in. So I followed.
The girl's apartment looked like a page out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. The beige page. Even the black and white prints on the wall looked like they came with the entertainment cabinet. She matched with her furniture too, as a non-descript blond wearing a white shirt and jeans. (I was over-dressed.) She came over to us on the beige couch and started talking to him, obviously ignoring me. She so wanted him. She told him about the CD that was playing and how that concert was coming up and they should go... Two new girls arrived, the hostess left to greet them. She immediately took them into the kitchen whispering.
Shortly after, HT went to go talk to someone else. Then two guys burst in. They made a big entrance laughing loudly. Both wore very trendy clothes and a lot of hair product. They were attractive except for their self-satisfied airs. Gross. These guys are in every singles ward. The hip hot boys who know all the girls want them, so they play it up as much as they can. They're God's hippest gift to women and don't they know it. But these two were worse than the usual. For some reason everything in this city is exaggerated. These guys acted more flamboyant and obnoxious and, of course, hipper.
I had one real conversation with a guy from California. We work in similar fields so we talked about that. I wanted to talk more but he went away and kept busy with several other girls for the rest of the night. Was he avoiding me? I didn't want to date him, just talk. Sheesh. Single mormon guys think you want to marry them if you say hello.
Time for a drink refill. Three girls stopped me before I made it to the kitchen, the close friends of our host. The perky-affectationed one said, "Hi. You're J, right?" "Yes. Hi." "Bet you're wondering how I know your name, aren't ya?" "No. Not at all" I thought: I'm not stupid, you were gossiping about me in the kitchen because your friend wants HT and he brought me here. I didn't say that but I'm sure my face did. Not that she noticed. She laughed and kept talking, something about herself acting and moving from Utah. Whatever. "Excuse me, I need more sprite."
Then I got cornered by a real oddball, a shaved bald short man wearing preppy clothes. He had a whiny voice and wanted to know if I went to church with these people. Then he told me all about his art. How the critics don't appreciate his work because he paints in the classical style of the Renaissance masters. He isn't avant garde enough for them. He hates critics who don't understand him... This part of the conversation was at least tolerable. Until he found out what I study--then he did what I dread most at parties. He wanted to talk about the pop version of my field. He does it as a hobby! He asked me if I knew about so and so. No. "He has a great blah blah, real life stuff, blah blah holistic, not like that useless stuff, blah blah. There is this meditation blah. You should read that book. It changed my life..." Oh?-- Kill me now.
Where was HT? Was it time to leave yet? I spotted Violet on the couch. I finally freed myself and sat next to her. I had enough. I was utterly drained. HT had abandoned me for the two hours or so we were there. This couldn't be a date then. Definitely not. No way do you leave a date for the whole night to talk to other girls. So I was not his date, I felt sure about that.
HT eventually came over to see if we were ready to go. Yes. We left. Going down the hallway we could hear another party. Their door was open. Violet said she wanted to go in. So she did, said hello to the hosts and made the rounds of everyone in their apartment. We waited for her outside. When she came back out she told us we weren't real New Yorkers because we didn't know how to crash a party. She used to go to parties with Jackie O and ... Can we go now?
The Drop-off
We went two blocks. HT asked if it was ok for him to drop me at the subway station. Did I have a metro-card? He didn't have time to go uptown and then out to Brooklyn for his other party. Violet said she could take the bus if he dropped her off at Park. What about me, "Is this ok, here?" The station was back at Columbus Circle. I didn't understand. I was too tired to comprehend what was happening. I just agreed. Fine, I'll take the subway. Nice. It was two blocks north and an avenue behind us. HT pulled over to the side of the road. He said, "Goodbye, see you tomorrow." I was confused. Violet said goodbye to me too. HT unlocked the door. It seemed that I was supposed to get out of the car now, here, on the side of the road. So I got out of the car and HT drove away.
Midnight on Saturday, completely confused, I walked alone to the subway station. I had the whole ride home to get angry. I know I'm not in the south anymore and many of those customs don't apply. But, I'm pretty sure dropping a person off alone in the middle of the city, in the middle of the night, is rude no matter what the circumstances.
By the time I got home, I was so mad I yelled when my roommate asked how it went. The only way this night made sense was if HT meant for it to be a pre-date and decided at the party he wasn't into me. So he dropped me off like that so I'd know that too. Or, he was a selfish jerk who couldn't take an extra five minutes to at least drop me off at the subway station because he needed to be somewhere else. He didn't call to make sure I got home safely either. It didn't matter what his intentions were, he was off my list! Unless he apologized at church, and could give me a very good explanation. Grrrr.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
The Surprise
Sipping my ice water, I looked around his apartment. He actually decorated the place in a tasteful yet manly way. I waited for him to get dressed for the party because he had on jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers. I asked him if he had to get ready. He said he was ready when I was. Oh. So he was going to wear that.
People are more formal in the south when it comes to social events. Especially with dress. In Atlanta, one does not go out at night wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Having become an adult in that city, I learned its customs. Now I always feel a little put out when my dates don't dress up at all. It says that they aren't interested enough to put away their NoFear t-shirt and maybe wear clothes that require some color co-ordination.
Wearing his jeans, HT lead me to his car. As we headed downtown he told me we were going to pick up his friend Violet instead of going to the park. Excuse me? Huh? Another woman is coming with us? So that's when I started thinking maybe this wasn't a date. He was just trying to be nice by bringing me to a party so I could meet more people.
"Violet has a really cool penthouse", HT explained the situation with her. She is an eccentric older French woman who used to hang with Andy Warhol back in the day. She was also in the movie Midnight Cowboy. She joined the church in the 80s but never married, so she goes to the over-30s singles ward. HT met her there and does odd jobs for her, he said he likes to help her out. She's an artist too so she helps him with his work.
He didn't lie. Violet lives on the roof of the tallest building behind the Guggenheim. She owns the roof terrace. HT gave me the tour. Her place was cluttered, simple and not very big but two original Warhols hung on her living room wall. I gaped in awe like a tourist. Then he showed me around the terrace overlooking Central Park and the west side. NY had never looked so beautiful. From this height, there was no dirt or trash. The light was brighter, I could see clouds. I couldn't speak.
Violet needed help sorting out her papers before she went to France for the summer. So HT and I were going to help her before we went to the party. We all sat on the floor listening to old records and going through her lawsuit files. Violet over-directed us in a silly way and constantly scolded HT for not putting things in the right pile. He and I laughed at her fastidiousness. Then HT went to make us dinner. I was having fun.
"Do you want to eat on the terrace? If we go out there now, we could catch the sunset." "Absolutely." HT and I went outside and pulled chairs up to the western edge of the roof. Violet stayed in the kitchen. We talked as we ate and saw the most glorious breath-taking sunset I've seen in years. The sun dipped behing the gothic sky-line as the lights from the buildings faded on, the trees of the park shadowed over. HT seemed a little nervous. He told me more about himself, what he did before he came to NY and why he was here. He pointed out the little ant joggers running around the reservoir. I leaned over the railing, arms spread-eagle pretending to be Leonardo diCaprio in Titanic. He chuckled. But I really did feel like a queen surveying manhattan from the towers.
That's the way to live in the city. Above the noise and grime. It was paradise. And I was with an interesting man telling me about his life. Did he bring me here to impress me? I was impressed. This felt like a date and it was going well. I wondered if I was charming him at all.
The sky quickly darkened so we went back in to get Violet. She had to put some pants on for the party. During the summer she just wears her g's around the house, with a loose top that's long enough to barely cover what needs covering. She told HT that she couldn't stay long at the party, he said he had to go to Williamsburg afterwards. I was glad to hear this because I usually hate parties.
The Party
In the car on the way, HT told me about his friend who worked for some law firm making big bucks. She has an apartment in the 50s near 9th Ave. When we arrived there were only a few other people. HT introduced me to the hostess. Then he wanted to show me her balcony. We went out and watched the boats drifting down the Hudson. After a few minutes HT went back in. So I followed.
The girl's apartment looked like a page out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. The beige page. Even the black and white prints on the wall looked like they came with the entertainment cabinet. She matched with her furniture too, as a non-descript blond wearing a white shirt and jeans. (I was over-dressed.) She came over to us on the beige couch and started talking to him, obviously ignoring me. She so wanted him. She told him about the CD that was playing and how that concert was coming up and they should go... Two new girls arrived, the hostess left to greet them. She immediately took them into the kitchen whispering.
Shortly after, HT went to go talk to someone else. Then two guys burst in. They made a big entrance laughing loudly. Both wore very trendy clothes and a lot of hair product. They were attractive except for their self-satisfied airs. Gross. These guys are in every singles ward. The hip hot boys who know all the girls want them, so they play it up as much as they can. They're God's hippest gift to women and don't they know it. But these two were worse than the usual. For some reason everything in this city is exaggerated. These guys acted more flamboyant and obnoxious and, of course, hipper.
I had one real conversation with a guy from California. We work in similar fields so we talked about that. I wanted to talk more but he went away and kept busy with several other girls for the rest of the night. Was he avoiding me? I didn't want to date him, just talk. Sheesh. Single mormon guys think you want to marry them if you say hello.
Time for a drink refill. Three girls stopped me before I made it to the kitchen, the close friends of our host. The perky-affectationed one said, "Hi. You're J, right?" "Yes. Hi." "Bet you're wondering how I know your name, aren't ya?" "No. Not at all" I thought: I'm not stupid, you were gossiping about me in the kitchen because your friend wants HT and he brought me here. I didn't say that but I'm sure my face did. Not that she noticed. She laughed and kept talking, something about herself acting and moving from Utah. Whatever. "Excuse me, I need more sprite."
Then I got cornered by a real oddball, a shaved bald short man wearing preppy clothes. He had a whiny voice and wanted to know if I went to church with these people. Then he told me all about his art. How the critics don't appreciate his work because he paints in the classical style of the Renaissance masters. He isn't avant garde enough for them. He hates critics who don't understand him... This part of the conversation was at least tolerable. Until he found out what I study--then he did what I dread most at parties. He wanted to talk about the pop version of my field. He does it as a hobby! He asked me if I knew about so and so. No. "He has a great blah blah, real life stuff, blah blah holistic, not like that useless stuff, blah blah. There is this meditation blah. You should read that book. It changed my life..." Oh?-- Kill me now.
Where was HT? Was it time to leave yet? I spotted Violet on the couch. I finally freed myself and sat next to her. I had enough. I was utterly drained. HT had abandoned me for the two hours or so we were there. This couldn't be a date then. Definitely not. No way do you leave a date for the whole night to talk to other girls. So I was not his date, I felt sure about that.
HT eventually came over to see if we were ready to go. Yes. We left. Going down the hallway we could hear another party. Their door was open. Violet said she wanted to go in. So she did, said hello to the hosts and made the rounds of everyone in their apartment. We waited for her outside. When she came back out she told us we weren't real New Yorkers because we didn't know how to crash a party. She used to go to parties with Jackie O and ... Can we go now?
The Drop-off
We went two blocks. HT asked if it was ok for him to drop me at the subway station. Did I have a metro-card? He didn't have time to go uptown and then out to Brooklyn for his other party. Violet said she could take the bus if he dropped her off at Park. What about me, "Is this ok, here?" The station was back at Columbus Circle. I didn't understand. I was too tired to comprehend what was happening. I just agreed. Fine, I'll take the subway. Nice. It was two blocks north and an avenue behind us. HT pulled over to the side of the road. He said, "Goodbye, see you tomorrow." I was confused. Violet said goodbye to me too. HT unlocked the door. It seemed that I was supposed to get out of the car now, here, on the side of the road. So I got out of the car and HT drove away.
Midnight on Saturday, completely confused, I walked alone to the subway station. I had the whole ride home to get angry. I know I'm not in the south anymore and many of those customs don't apply. But, I'm pretty sure dropping a person off alone in the middle of the city, in the middle of the night, is rude no matter what the circumstances.
By the time I got home, I was so mad I yelled when my roommate asked how it went. The only way this night made sense was if HT meant for it to be a pre-date and decided at the party he wasn't into me. So he dropped me off like that so I'd know that too. Or, he was a selfish jerk who couldn't take an extra five minutes to at least drop me off at the subway station because he needed to be somewhere else. He didn't call to make sure I got home safely either. It didn't matter what his intentions were, he was off my list! Unless he apologized at church, and could give me a very good explanation. Grrrr.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
5.25.2004
These shoes weren't made for walking!
Summers stink. I can't stand the heat and the humidity of this city, it's unbearable when combined with the smog. When you get home you have to wash the grey slime off your skin: it's soot mixed with sweat and ocean humidity. We don't get to sit in nice cool cars to drive to our destinations. No, we have to walk in the heat to the subway and go underground where it smells like urine and the air is stifling and even hotter. Then we get to cram into the train which may or may not have working air conditioning, squeezing ourselves between lots of other sweaty people. Not everyone in this city conforms to American standards of personal hygiene. Enough said. Then, when you get out of the subway and want to take a good deep breath, you gag instead. The city breeze smells like sewage and garbage. I heart NY.
I've always hated the summer, not just in the city. I don't like being out of school and most summers I worked full-time in whatever crappy, mind-numbing, cubicle hell job I could find. I even hate summer clothes. I refuse to buy them. I think pastel and khaki should be illegal colors and people wearing spandex should be arrested for indecent exposure. My repulsion for the season probably developed because I grew up in Miami where it's summer year round. Either that or I'm a closet Goth-girl who shrivels up in the sunlight because I want to be a vampire so badly I've made myself allergic to the sun.
Last year, my first summer here, I didn't have to take a cubicle hell job. My fellowship paid year round. That was so wonderful, I planned to get all my reading and work done and would be so productive. But then I found myself suddenly friendless because my buddies all left town. I had no one to go out with or to go see and talk to. I got cabin fever. And I couldn't even stand to go outside so I stayed in my air conditioned bedroom all day, every day. Predictably, my mood and emotional well-being plummeted, so this summer slump was particularly bad.
Enter my home teacher(HT). When we first met I decided I wasn't interested in him. He seemed boring and stiff and didn't catch my attention at all. The disinterest was mutual and we never talked other than polite greetings. Until HT started visiting me in April. The visits didn't change my opinion of him. But he listened to me, so I talked about how miserably my summer was going. He thought I was some kind of hermit because I never went out. He told me about the singles activities he went to and said he'd let me know when something was happening. I asked him to call me because I wanted to go. He never did.
In May we started working in the church garden. Only three people showed up on planting day: me, home teacher(HT) and an older woman. She could only stay until noon so she planted her box then left. HT and I went to the nursery to buy supplies then we spent several hours filling all the unclaimed boxes with seeds and growing things. I enjoyed it and didn't even mind the heat. HT got more intriguing. I actually saw him and realized he was good-looking, he has aquamarine eyes and a lovely body. I considered re-considering him. When we finished, he told me about a party for some people in the singles ward. Did I want to go? Yes. He said he'd pick me up at 6 so we could go to the park and maybe eat dinner before the party.
I had a date!--Central Park and then a party. Not too bad. This was my first real date in NY after living here 10 months. I was excited to have someone take me out, I needed something new. I got dressed in nice pants and a blouse and pretty sandals. I put on make-up and fixed my hair which meant taking down my permanent summer ponytail. I rarely wear make-up in the summer because it just melts off anyway. So this would be a special occasion.
He called me half an hour before 6 and asked if I could walk to his place instead, it was only 11 blocks. Um, ok. Weird. What kind of man renigs an offer to pick up his date? He was southern and that's not how southern men are raised to treat women! They're old fashioned when it comes to manners and I got used to that in Georgia. Maybe there was something wrong with his car? Whatever it was, I walked 11 blocks to his apartment in the heat with my pretty shoes that aren't good for walking. My clean feet and painted toes got dirty, after I washed them just for this date. I also got sweaty and my hair frizzed. All of this annoyed me. He had better have a good reason for making me walk after he said he'd drive.
Nope. He had no explanation. Nor did he apologize or act apologetic. But he let me sit for a minute before we left so I could cool off. After I cooled down in front of his air conditioner I decided I might be over-reacting. He gave me a glass of ice water. So, I let it go. I wanted to enjoy the evening.
The car tease was the first rude thing HT did that night. It all went downhill from there, deep into a trench of total disregard.
Stayed tuned for more...
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
I've always hated the summer, not just in the city. I don't like being out of school and most summers I worked full-time in whatever crappy, mind-numbing, cubicle hell job I could find. I even hate summer clothes. I refuse to buy them. I think pastel and khaki should be illegal colors and people wearing spandex should be arrested for indecent exposure. My repulsion for the season probably developed because I grew up in Miami where it's summer year round. Either that or I'm a closet Goth-girl who shrivels up in the sunlight because I want to be a vampire so badly I've made myself allergic to the sun.
Last year, my first summer here, I didn't have to take a cubicle hell job. My fellowship paid year round. That was so wonderful, I planned to get all my reading and work done and would be so productive. But then I found myself suddenly friendless because my buddies all left town. I had no one to go out with or to go see and talk to. I got cabin fever. And I couldn't even stand to go outside so I stayed in my air conditioned bedroom all day, every day. Predictably, my mood and emotional well-being plummeted, so this summer slump was particularly bad.
Enter my home teacher(HT). When we first met I decided I wasn't interested in him. He seemed boring and stiff and didn't catch my attention at all. The disinterest was mutual and we never talked other than polite greetings. Until HT started visiting me in April. The visits didn't change my opinion of him. But he listened to me, so I talked about how miserably my summer was going. He thought I was some kind of hermit because I never went out. He told me about the singles activities he went to and said he'd let me know when something was happening. I asked him to call me because I wanted to go. He never did.
In May we started working in the church garden. Only three people showed up on planting day: me, home teacher(HT) and an older woman. She could only stay until noon so she planted her box then left. HT and I went to the nursery to buy supplies then we spent several hours filling all the unclaimed boxes with seeds and growing things. I enjoyed it and didn't even mind the heat. HT got more intriguing. I actually saw him and realized he was good-looking, he has aquamarine eyes and a lovely body. I considered re-considering him. When we finished, he told me about a party for some people in the singles ward. Did I want to go? Yes. He said he'd pick me up at 6 so we could go to the park and maybe eat dinner before the party.
I had a date!--Central Park and then a party. Not too bad. This was my first real date in NY after living here 10 months. I was excited to have someone take me out, I needed something new. I got dressed in nice pants and a blouse and pretty sandals. I put on make-up and fixed my hair which meant taking down my permanent summer ponytail. I rarely wear make-up in the summer because it just melts off anyway. So this would be a special occasion.
He called me half an hour before 6 and asked if I could walk to his place instead, it was only 11 blocks. Um, ok. Weird. What kind of man renigs an offer to pick up his date? He was southern and that's not how southern men are raised to treat women! They're old fashioned when it comes to manners and I got used to that in Georgia. Maybe there was something wrong with his car? Whatever it was, I walked 11 blocks to his apartment in the heat with my pretty shoes that aren't good for walking. My clean feet and painted toes got dirty, after I washed them just for this date. I also got sweaty and my hair frizzed. All of this annoyed me. He had better have a good reason for making me walk after he said he'd drive.
Nope. He had no explanation. Nor did he apologize or act apologetic. But he let me sit for a minute before we left so I could cool off. After I cooled down in front of his air conditioner I decided I might be over-reacting. He gave me a glass of ice water. So, I let it go. I wanted to enjoy the evening.
The car tease was the first rude thing HT did that night. It all went downhill from there, deep into a trench of total disregard.
Stayed tuned for more...
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
5.21.2004
Groping in the Garden
Gardens need fertilizer. Especially when plants grow from a plywood box in an empty lot in the city. Now the winter has passed it's time to garden again. Our lovely garden and lawn is in the lot next to the church. It belongs to the whole congregation but only a few of us have done anything with it. Because I live very close by and don't work a 9-5 job I took on much of the gardening duties last summer, so did my home teacher(HT). Sometimes we worked together and we shared one of the larger plots. The garden did beautifully, I actually got sick of home-grown cherry tomatoes! A few weeks ago, HT told me he was going to buy seeds and asked if I wanted to share a plot with him again. Yes, I did.
My home teacher is good, you may remember him from this post. We're both single and we have too much in common for us to have a viable romantic relationship. And I'm not quite ready to get over last summer. We may or may not have dated. I still don't know but I hope we weren't dating because if so, he treated me in an appalling way. That's another story I am going to write. (This is not an empty tease unlike the last one.)
Regardless of the confusion last summer, we really became friends in January and weren't awkward anymore. He was dating Cruella and I had an internet boyfriend. We could hang out as buddies who compared our promising new relationships. We had some bonding moments. Then in March both of us got the big ugly rejection boot. This sent me into a period of seclusion (I started this blog) so I hadn't seen or talked to him in awhile. He left me a few messages about wanting to get together to plant the garden. I ignored him and everyone else.
Last Saturday, however, we had to do a primary party. HT asked me if I could help him in the garden afterwards. Yes. So when the kiddies went home and the sun shone way too brightly, we planted seedlings and seeds and fertilized and labeled and covered and watered. It's beautiful to get soil under my fingernails and to go home smelling like dirt and green things in Harlem. The garden is plenty big. The vegetable boxes are in the back end of the lot away from the street. Even so, the rows between planting boxes do not have enough room for two people. The boxes are small enough that one could go around the other side if someone blocked the path. HT didn't go around. Several times HT squeezed past me, taking the opportunity to put his hand on my waist or back. I noticed this because it felt so good to have human contact for the first time in 2 months, how long did his hand linger?--And I noticed because he never touches me. We don't touch. Not when we were maybe dating and not when we were definitely friends. So why now?
As I planted the strawberries, he looked over at me from the tomato box, and asked if I had heard from that Utah guy. I groaned and said "No," then continued to berate that boy's character for a few minutes. HT said something like, "yeah, Cruella too." Was that a smile on his face? The possible significance of his question completely went over my head as my mind spun with angry thoughts about Utah boy.
We spent 2 or 3 hours planting everything. We work well together because he doesn't do idle chit chat and neither do I. Instead we listened to the screaming children, honking horns, shouting adults, sirens and airplanes. Afterwards, when we finished locking everything up he asked if I wanted to go get something to eat. Since I had only 3 hours of sleep and needed a shower, I said "No I need to take a nap." His question was innocent enough, so I thought nothing of it. But I didn't have the energy to be with him, he tires me. He's so serious all the time, maybe that's why. I wasn't in the mood for serious and brooding that day, nor any other day.
I went home puzzled by the way he touched in the garden and asked my roommate what she thought. Did it mean anything? She said it probably did since we have been friends for awhile and he never touched me before. Guys who want to date their friends sometimes do that. Then I remembered that he asked me about utah boy. Barbara confirmed HT was likely checking my availability and also informing me of his. Ah, that probably explains why he asked me if I was going out later. It was a stupid question because I said no and then he told me he wasn't either because he had to work. So, what difference did my plans make to him? Ok, maybe he wanted to know if I had a date?
Ugh. I can't deal with this now, if he is interested. He had his chance last summer and he said no. I don't want Cruella's left-overs. Sure, she's materialistic so now the broke student who doesn't wear designer clothing suddenly looks more attractive? No thanks. He told me that when we met last year he thought I was cute but too quiet. I didn't tell him I thought he was so wooden and boring that I didn't even notice he's good looking.
He's no one to run from, but he's not a man to run towards either. He has a lot of problems, but so do I.
What am I going to do if he was trying to start something? Well, Saturday I chose to ignore his subtle overtures and took a nap. If he's trying to plant anything in my rocky soil, he needs to add some Miracle-Gro and wait. I need something more obvious to believe he's interested. Until he forces me to deal with it, these seeds ain't growing anywhere. For now, my happy oats are off to dreamland, where I'll pretend not to notice.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
My home teacher is good, you may remember him from this post. We're both single and we have too much in common for us to have a viable romantic relationship. And I'm not quite ready to get over last summer. We may or may not have dated. I still don't know but I hope we weren't dating because if so, he treated me in an appalling way. That's another story I am going to write. (This is not an empty tease unlike the last one.)
Regardless of the confusion last summer, we really became friends in January and weren't awkward anymore. He was dating Cruella and I had an internet boyfriend. We could hang out as buddies who compared our promising new relationships. We had some bonding moments. Then in March both of us got the big ugly rejection boot. This sent me into a period of seclusion (I started this blog) so I hadn't seen or talked to him in awhile. He left me a few messages about wanting to get together to plant the garden. I ignored him and everyone else.
Last Saturday, however, we had to do a primary party. HT asked me if I could help him in the garden afterwards. Yes. So when the kiddies went home and the sun shone way too brightly, we planted seedlings and seeds and fertilized and labeled and covered and watered. It's beautiful to get soil under my fingernails and to go home smelling like dirt and green things in Harlem. The garden is plenty big. The vegetable boxes are in the back end of the lot away from the street. Even so, the rows between planting boxes do not have enough room for two people. The boxes are small enough that one could go around the other side if someone blocked the path. HT didn't go around. Several times HT squeezed past me, taking the opportunity to put his hand on my waist or back. I noticed this because it felt so good to have human contact for the first time in 2 months, how long did his hand linger?--And I noticed because he never touches me. We don't touch. Not when we were maybe dating and not when we were definitely friends. So why now?
As I planted the strawberries, he looked over at me from the tomato box, and asked if I had heard from that Utah guy. I groaned and said "No," then continued to berate that boy's character for a few minutes. HT said something like, "yeah, Cruella too." Was that a smile on his face? The possible significance of his question completely went over my head as my mind spun with angry thoughts about Utah boy.
We spent 2 or 3 hours planting everything. We work well together because he doesn't do idle chit chat and neither do I. Instead we listened to the screaming children, honking horns, shouting adults, sirens and airplanes. Afterwards, when we finished locking everything up he asked if I wanted to go get something to eat. Since I had only 3 hours of sleep and needed a shower, I said "No I need to take a nap." His question was innocent enough, so I thought nothing of it. But I didn't have the energy to be with him, he tires me. He's so serious all the time, maybe that's why. I wasn't in the mood for serious and brooding that day, nor any other day.
I went home puzzled by the way he touched in the garden and asked my roommate what she thought. Did it mean anything? She said it probably did since we have been friends for awhile and he never touched me before. Guys who want to date their friends sometimes do that. Then I remembered that he asked me about utah boy. Barbara confirmed HT was likely checking my availability and also informing me of his. Ah, that probably explains why he asked me if I was going out later. It was a stupid question because I said no and then he told me he wasn't either because he had to work. So, what difference did my plans make to him? Ok, maybe he wanted to know if I had a date?
Ugh. I can't deal with this now, if he is interested. He had his chance last summer and he said no. I don't want Cruella's left-overs. Sure, she's materialistic so now the broke student who doesn't wear designer clothing suddenly looks more attractive? No thanks. He told me that when we met last year he thought I was cute but too quiet. I didn't tell him I thought he was so wooden and boring that I didn't even notice he's good looking.
He's no one to run from, but he's not a man to run towards either. He has a lot of problems, but so do I.
What am I going to do if he was trying to start something? Well, Saturday I chose to ignore his subtle overtures and took a nap. If he's trying to plant anything in my rocky soil, he needs to add some Miracle-Gro and wait. I need something more obvious to believe he's interested. Until he forces me to deal with it, these seeds ain't growing anywhere. For now, my happy oats are off to dreamland, where I'll pretend not to notice.
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.
4.07.2004
OUCH!! Cruella DeVille in the house
My poor home teacher finally got dumped by the primary pianist after she strung him along for 2 months. She was pretty rotten about it too. After two months of her saying, "Let's be dating friends", cancelling on him a few hours before their plans, and insisting she didn't want something serious. Yet, she also confused him by taking him on a snow-boarding trip, doing Valentine's Day with him, calling him 'honey'/'sweetie' and phoning him everyday. Not serious? She gave him the keys to her car so he could move it for her! That's serious, sister. Last week he invited her over to do FHE at his place, which they did every week. She called him to say 'no' and broke it off. She told him they couldn't date because she, "doesn't see him as a provider". Ouch! And, "I want someone who can bring to the table what I can bring." (she must mean salary-wise, she pays 1200 a month for rent.) But she says it has nothing to do with money. Right. Girlfriend, if you want a suit from wall street, then you should leave the artists living in the ghetto alone. You give the rest of woman-kind a bad name. Honey, Can you see Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree?
She only gave him one kiss that whole time. He said she's the coldest woman he's ever dated. He told me this because he got annoyed that Utah boy came here for 5 days and I let him give me a nasty cold. (I had fun though)
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of not having sex in the city.
She only gave him one kiss that whole time. He said she's the coldest woman he's ever dated. He told me this because he got annoyed that Utah boy came here for 5 days and I let him give me a nasty cold. (I had fun though)
Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of not having sex in the city.
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