Hint of Salt, Shot of Tequila, Adulthood Chaser

Tequila. Ouch.

In New York City there are many ways to experience the city: going out to bars, sightseeing, taking a famed yellow cab, overpaying for drinks, food, anything in Times Square, etc.  I live in NYC and I am an adult (last I checked), so some of these things are not for me (see: anything touristy).

In the spirit of B's post, about how being twenty-something is a mixed bag of adulthood and irresponsible/immature childish behavior, I am going to recap my weekend.  Last weekend I had a revelation, going out to bars does not always have to mean going out on the prowl.  There IS such a thing as going out, not looking for a member of the opposite sex, and just having fun generally.  I know that this is a novel and strange idea, but just go with me.

I would like to preface my story of the weekend with these preponderances about dating:
Being twenty-something and single is confusing.  On the one hand, I am very used to the way things worked at my college: drunkenly make out with someone you've heard of before (see: small campus), hook up with them (extra long twin bed WHOOP WHOOP!), exchange numbers, continue to hook up several weekends in a row, and finally be exclusively hooking up for perhaps the rest of the term (#NOTADULT).  On the other hand, I AM an adult now (or so I'm told) and I should be following a more mature set of steps towards coupledom.  I am fairly sure that these steps are: meet at some random location that is not a bar (so far step one has COMPLETELY eluded me in my adult life), exchange pleasant banter and digits, party #1 calls party #2 on the telephone (step three, also seeming very mythological to me) and sets up drinks at a point in the near future, date #1 is had, more dates are had, there is a discussion about exclusivity, and then you're dating...like Facebook official...like indefinitely (decidedly #adult).

So I went out Saturday night with the intention of just having a good time, meeting some new [PLATONIC] friends, and getting a little wastey-face (notice how I said "A LITTLE").  This idea =  verrrry #adult. The previous weekend I had made out with a young, finance gentleman at a bar (#notadult), and he had taken my number so we could hang out sometime.  I find that young gentlemen that find their way into my life are also quite baffled by the ways of twenty-something dating.  They, too, are torn between the ways they're used to (see: boning on twin size bed) and the ways of adults (see: dating).  When a guy says (cough texts) "Let's hang out some time," that could mean either let's meet up at 2 am and go back to my place and bone on my futon (#NOTadult) or let me take you to this secret, underground, amazing speakeasy bar in the East Village and we can talk for a couple hours and decide if this is worth the time, energy, and money (#adult).  So far, I'm led to believe that gentlemen met in bars are decidedly in favor of the former plan of action.

I started the night off with plans to meet an old acquaintance at her friend's apartment, which was only a block from mine.  She just so happened to tell me to go up to 2G and NOT 2H, 2G being the complete wrong apartment full of strangers.  I knocked on the door and was ushered inside.  New York City is not famed for it's large apartments, so I think we can all assume what this apartment looked like.  That being said, I was face to face with ten completely random strangers, none of whom were my friend.  I laughed and played it off and they were friendly enough to demand that I partake of a beer with them.  It was altogether not horrible and it turned out that many of the strangers actually knew people I know (heyyooooo NYC being a small world).  So with incredible poise and grace, I made the best of a decisively awkward situation (#adult) and chugged down that Bud Light (#NotAdult).

After making it to the CORRECT apartment, I proceded to make polite conversation and be generally friendly.  We then ventured to a bar on the Lower East Side, where I took not one, but many, tequila shots.  Whoever invented tequila must have hated mankind.  By the end of the night I was wandering aimlessly through the bar, nearly blackout drunk.  At that point I'd had wine, beer, whiskey, tequila, more beer, more whiskey, more tequila...in short, nightmare.  Mixing alcohols: #NOTadult.  Typically in such a state of disarray, I would do something stupid: see drunk text messaging, making out with strangers, saying mean things to people I just meant, brutal honesty, hooking up with people I KNOW I shouldn't, etc etc etc etc. I did walk up to a guy who was standing semi near a girl (AND GROUP OF PEOPLE) and hit on him only to find out he was "kind of seeing" the girl he was standing near.  That's a little embarrassing, but not altogether horrible.  It's definitely been worse! (Sad? Should I not admit that?)  The finance gentleman texted me a bit with a desire to come meet me, but his friends weren't cooperating so I made it out of the bar without temptation of a late night hang out.

I made it home in one piece and didn't do anything that made me feel too awful the next day....except for all the tequila, and beer, and whiskey.....welllll maybe Sunday wasn't so pretty after all.  I actually wanted to die Sunday and thought I actually might, but luckily it wasn't from embarrassment, it was just alcohol poisoning.  Victory!....right?

Valentine's Day, Time for a Big Slap of Reality to the Face

B was telling me the other day that she underexaggerated her relationship with her boyfriend when telling her cousin about him a few weeks ago.  This led to him being almost insultingly surprised that "that is still going on."  I find that, when talking to family members, I often OVERexaggerate my relationships with men.  I have several reasons for doing this.  Reasons being:
1. "Sooooooooo......meet any guys out there in New York City???" -My stepmom
     -Translation: "Sooooooo....have you purchased any cats yet?....You know, to sate your unremitting  
       loneliness?"
     -Rebuttal: I AM TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD, NOT FORTY!
2. "C, are you.....................................................................................weird?" -My mom
     -Translation: "C, are you a big, butch lesbian??"
     -Rebuttal: I love sex.....with men. THE END OF THE STORY.
3. "It's your turn girl!" -My mom
     -Translation: "When you gon' be poppin' out some grand babies?!?!?!"
     -Rebuttal: A. YOU ALREADY HAVE FIVE GRANDCHILLENS' CRAZY! B. I AM TWENTY-
      TWO YEARS OLD, NOT FORTY!

So, when talking to family members, I tend to exaggerate my relationships.  Repeat hook ups (read: F**k Buddy) with a socially retarded, med school bound hottie equals "kinnnnd of seeing this guy...but we're not that serious."  Going on one date and planning a second, which never really happens because he's the flakiest man on earth, equals "Well there's this great British guy who I could see myself dating, we'll see where things go....could get serious."  Because when it comes down to it, they're three thousand or so miles away, they'll believe what I tell them.  Honestly, I don't really think that they're looking for the straight answer, they're really looking for what they want to hear (aren't we all?)....soooooo I justify the exaggeration.

With Valentine's Day looming, it becomes a time where we all really have to come to terms with the little exaggerations we've made in our love lives.  If you're not spending the big night together (barring conscientious objectors), you're not dating, you're not serious, and it's possibly (probably) not going anywhere.  Valentine's Day, while full of garbage and forced romantic exhibitionism, is the great revealer in so many ways.  As for me, I'm pretty glad I'm not spending V Day with any of my recent exaggerations.  I'm not sure I could handle a date that's sole conversational fare is comprised of soccer...and I certainly couldn't handle a V Day dinner with a mate who can't put his phone down for one second and passes out at 11 pm.  These kinds of V Day losers sure make the time in between fun, but they're certainly no one to devote any real energy or special feelings towards.  So thank you St. Valentine, for removing any kind of illusions I would have had about these men and replacing them with illusions of love to come.  For now, I guess I'll just spend Valentine's Day, like I would any other day: watching How I Met Your Mother and being content with myself.

In the vein of illusions of the heart and mind, I would like to present the illusions of Taylor Swift's heart and mind with an in depth comparison of an element of her artistry.
Back to December: An Analysis of the Elements......

Valentine's Day

Last year, for Valentine's Day, I did a post for C and my former blog called "Conversation Hearts for College."  As I stated then, "Valentine's Day is a pretty anti-climatic day at a college where hook-ups are the norm. With this in mind, I created some conversation hearts that communicate how most co-eds feel this weekend. And pretty much every other weekend."  For V-Day 2011, I'll share the college hearts that are no longer approp and some that are still in play, as well as some additions for the world of twenty-something dating.

Sooo college:

Still somewhat in play:

The 20-something world of dating:

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Why Dresses are the Downfall of Men

Dresses are the downfall of all men.  Want to know why?  As I recently told B: "to men dresses are like straight jackets with a big hole in a too obvious place.  It's like in adventure movies when the adventurer puts is hand in the mouth of some cave sculpture and it gets cut off."  My advice to her, some advice that I COMPLETELY forgot when it would have been applicable to my life last weekend, was this: DO NOT WEAR A SKIRT IF YOU ARE GONNA BE MACKIN' ON SOME GUY!  There is just nothing good about it.  It's an issue for the following reasons:

1. It's gets all twisted up to high heaven, and then you're like "my legs don't even go that way, how the hell..."

2. Men do not at all understand the workings of said garment.  Example: you could be wearing a very nice dress with a zip back (that is, for all intents and purposes IMPOSSIBLE to remove without unzipping) Your guy then attempts to pull lightly at the garment, in hopes that it will at least loosen...but NO! it is strong and will not budge.  Leaving him looking puzzled and a little unsure of his next move.  Thus you are forced to unzip the thing and take the whole thing off.  If you're wearing tights, you obviously have to take those off too, because how unflattering is a pair of tights and tights alone??  Nothing about a second skin of black spandex that is pulled up to your belly button says pretty to me.  Consequently you are very quickly in your underwear, which may be (and hopefully is) a lot more naked than you were originally planning to be.

3. To go along with number 2...easy below the belt access, impossible above the waist access.  This flow chart of accesibility does not mesh well with the several step system that should be hooking up.

That's all I really have, so perhaps a list was unnecessary...but what's done is done.  Moral of the story....skirts, great for looking fancy at work / maybe pretty grand for location hook ups (sex on a beach anyone??)....but not so great for beginning of the long road encounters.  Jeggings on the other hand....I'm totally in favor of those.

Surprise Surpise

My sister is coming to visit tomorrow.  Well she's actually leaving Colorado tonight and her flight arrives at JFK tomorrow morning at 6 am.  She'll most likely arrive at my apartment at the crack of dawn aka 7 am.  I am very excited for her visit, as is she.  My sister is much older than I am, 36 to  my 22.  Growing up she was like an aunt more than a sister.  She moved out of our childhood home when I was only 5 years old, and in with her (then) new husband.  Things have changed and time has marched on; she is no longer 18 and I am no longer 5.

After I came home from college I was an adult (!!!)....or at least I wanted to be.  I think finally being 22, finished with school, and on my way to branching out on my own made it possible for us to get close on a sisterly level....rather than the generationally gaped level we were on previously.  But anyway, my sister is coming and we are going to booze our faces off.  I was texting with my sister and she was asking questions concerning her upcoming visit:

"Is there a Victoria's Secret there?" Yes, this is NYC Sister. Hahaha.

"Can I use your shampoo/hair stuff/curling iron?" Absolutely.

"How cold is it there?" 57 degrees, cloudy with a chance of rain....per the weather app on my droid....you know, like the one you have...in your hand...right now.

"Can I wear your gray boots one night?" As long as I'm not planning on wearing them!

"Is there a Starbucks by your apartment?" Yeah it's just west two blocks.

The last question I assumed she asked because she's coming in at the freaking CRACK OF DAWN!  I have taken this flight (one way trip to NYC September 2k10 HOLLA'!), so I know how absolutely trecherous it is.  If you get stuck with a middle seat, your night will be a living hell.  (ESPECIALLY if you have mono, stitches from having a possibly cancerous portion of thine own flesh (!!!!) removed, strep throat, AND are feeling violently ill and weak because your body hates antibiotics.....but let's not make this about me)  So in my mind I was like "Ohhh she will probably want a blueberry streusel muffin and a piping hot peppermint mocha!"  .....nope.  That is not at all why my sister wanted to know where the closest Starbucks was.  My. sister. has. a. date.  In New York City.  A destination she is visiting....for four days.

What is more, "OMG C he is my future husband!" -Sister.  So, apparently he wants to take us out to dinner (I NEVER say no to a free meal, ESPECIALLY if it's from my future second bro-in-law...gotta start those ties (and expectations of free-loading) early!).  I hope my sister moves out here, then I can go bother her all the time and make her listen to me whine, then we can go out and get drinks.  Sounds wonderful.  If she moves out here, my dad is going to kill me.

Man #4: Timid Tony

Happy Thanksgiving all! What better way to start your holiday eating fest than with a quick story about love gone wrong...Where did I leave off again? Oh yes...

After all these raging success stories and me always the glutton for punishment, I went back onto the dating site. But this new man seems more promising. Or so I thought…As of now we have been on three dates, all of which are filled with fun witty banter. In my opinion, we have great chemistry and since he doesn’t have any of the flaws as my last suitors (not a serial killer, no children, and not a child himself)…I give us two thumbs up! So far on our 3 dates, we have gone to dinner, a museum and a bar, and finally dinner and a movie. While the conversation has flowed naturally and I feel like I have turned my lady charm up to maximum, there has been no real physical interaction. I forced a hug on him at the end of date 1 and the end of date 2 he asked for one, but other than that, nothing! …nada…not even a peck on the check. On my first date with CC we hadn’t even made it to our goodbyes before he had his tongue down my throat. So what’s wrong with this guy? When we first meet up for a date, there is no hug or touching. If anything there is an awkward wave (usually by him) and a super puzzled expression (contributed by me). All my friends (aka the people how listen to me whine day in and day out about my love life) have suggested that he hasn’t laid a big wet one on me because we were always saying goodbye in public. So, last night, date #3, I decided to let him drive me home. As we walked to his car, he opened my door like the perfect gentleman, which scored him major brownie points. As we started to drive, however, I am immediately annoyed because a. we were driving in a 35 mph zone but he was barely cruising at 25 mph b. because his is not an aggressive driver but does have a lead foot which he uses to “test” his breaks at every stoplight we miss (which was pretty much all of them) c. because I realize I should have used the restroom back at the restaurant, before we got gelato, before I decided to travel an HOUR to get home because every time Timid Tony slammed on the brakes, my seat belt pushed harder on my bladder. Swell! So when we finally made it to my apartment building TT parked on the side of the road. I kept telling myself not to pee in my pants because this was going to be the scene of our first kiss and I felt that peeing in my pants would really ruin it. After awkwardly lingering for a few minutes and running out of small talk, he had made no movement which would suggest he was finally going to lean across the center console to give me our long awaited kiss... so I abruptly got out of the car and hobbled my way to the lobby of my building…yes I had to go that badly. Since he didn’t kiss me when he had the opportunity I assumed he wasn’t interested. But today at 10:37 am he gchatted me and asked me out again. What the What! I’ve decided to give him one more chance to seal the MO deal before I shut yet another failed date down.

If you need reminders about how your love life doesn’t suck so badly or just want a good chuckle…stay tuned for my next installment about Timid Tony!

PS. Unrelated lesson I learned this week: stay on the sidewalk…the prius is exceptionally deadly

Man #3: Spawning Sam

This is a quick one because he lasted maybe 2 days...

Next was a guy with a 6 year old daughter who seemed offended and taken a back that I didn’t want to go out with him because I thought we were in different stages of our lives. Don’t get me wrong…I like kids and want kids but not at 23. And the fact that he was already successful in creating one at my age freaked me out. Also one day during a gchat session he sent me an interview he did for some newspaper that followed him on a date with another woman. Was that supposed to make me jealous? Because it backfired because when I read she had a child too, I said she sounded like a more appropriate match for him. He was not happy. Next!

Lesson Learned: men with babies are even bigger babies themselves.