Saturday, June 4, 2011

Trader Joe goes Broadway!

For our third date, Trader Joe offered lunch and a movie and I accepted, thinking either (a) the previous date was a fluke, and he's actually a really mature guy who isn't at all desperate or clingy and we could have a great time and keep dating, or

(b) I could get a free lunch and movie, and would only have to talk to him for half of the afternoon.

So, we met at the train station and started walking towards a French restaurant I had suggested. As we were walking, he retold the same stories he had told me on the previous two dates...

Actually, let's discuss that for a minute. If someone is retelling stories on the third date, they either lead an incredibly boring life, or have an atrocious memory. Or both, and are pathological liars who cannot remember that they already invented that story to cover up for their otherwise boring life. I don't know which affliction Trader Joe was suffering from, but it was bad.

And perhaps contagious. I suggest staying away from all men showing signs of this disease.

Anyway, I zoned out until we reached Times Square, when he started gawking like a tourist (remember...born and raised in New York) and exclaimed:

"I know! Let's see a show!"

Ok...I thought. I would generally rather see a Broadway show than a movie, and I still don't have to talk to him. Sweet! This may turn out well after all!

"Sounds great! Let's go to the TKTS booth!" (where they sell discounted same-day tickets)

We went to the booth, and after talking with some of the volunteers, we decided to see High, starring Kathleen Turner. As you know from reading the link (or being one of the approximately 10 people who managed to catch the show before it closed), High is an intense drama discussing rape, drugs, prostitution, a controversial topic, it was in this show. There is also a scene featuring extended full-frontal nudity.

I was intrigued. Joe was giggling like a school girl at the prospect of seeing someone naked.

And (supposedly) he's the one who's not a virgin in this conversation...

So, we get the tickets. Ok, I get the tickets, because he had a heart attack with his eyes when the guy told him the price (which was 50% of the actual price, by the way). So he suggested that he pay for lunch. But not at the (delicious) French place I had suggested.

At the burger joint  down the block. Because it was "closer to the theatre".

By one avenue block.


So, we see the show, which was very powerful and very well-acted and contained a very large naked male penis.

By the way, I have now seen four Broadway shows with male nudity, and all four men were extremely well-endowed. I would really like to know how they cast these roles...

Wait...what was I doing? Oh, blogging. Right...

Remember when I said the show discussed things like rape and drug use? Romantic, sexy topics, right?

Joe seemed to think so, because he put his hand on my thigh at EVERY dramatic pause. And when do dramatic pauses happen? After something dramatic.


A character revealing that he was raped at the age of 14 by his mother's john.
Joe's hand goes to my thigh.

A character revealing that her younger sister was murdered by a man she invited into the house while high. Joe's hand goes to my thigh.

After the fourth time, when I was certain it could not possibly be a coincidence (unless he was too stupid to be following the plot of the show, which may actually be worse), I moved as far away as I could while still staying in my seat and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.

Afterwards, as we were walking back to the train station, I asked how he liked he show.

His response?

"Well...that guy...he was naked. Really naked. Wow."

Which he repeated like a mantra until I dropped the 28-year-old man-child off at his train.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Just when you thought it was safe

to re-enter the dating pool...

But it is not sharks we fear, is it? Sharks, after all, are awesome. They have an entire amazing week of ridiculous programming devoted to them on the Discovery Channel. And *identifying detail alert!* I have one tattooed on my foot.

It is, in fact, the frogs, lurking in their muddy bogs, waiting to pounce and give you warts.

Or at least a really awkward date.

So, as you may have noticed, I haven't posted (*cough* been on a date *cough cough*) in a while. Like I said in November, I started graduate school, and have been collecting part-time jobs like a 12 year old boy collects Pokemon ( those even exist anymore?), so I haven't really had time to seriously pursue meeting any of the guys I've been speaking to occasionally online.

But Trader Joe (named for the location of a particularly weird story which Blonde Roommate loves to re-tell!) was very persuasive. We spoke a few times on OkCupid and GChat, and he seemed funny, interesting, and intelligent, and we had quite a few things in common. So, when he asked if we could meet for dinner, I was happy to agree. I was even more happy when he brought me a pink rose and insisted on paying! In any case, we had a very nice time, and I was actually excited to go out again.

I should have known better. The second date started out just as well as the first- nice restaurant, a rose, a promise to pay the bill. But the conversation took an extremely odd turn. He told me a story about his best friend and a trip he was going to take to visit him.

In California.

That's weird, I thought. He was born and raised in New York, and has lived here his whole life. How did his best friend come to be in California?

"So, you know him from college?" I asked.

He laughed. Loudly. Never a good sign.

"Oh, of course not. He's only 17!"

I'll give you the moment I did not have to process that.

Immediately, all of the horrible thoughts that could possibly come up when a 28 year old man describes a 17 year old boy as his best friend began galloping through my head, just in time for them to be replaced with the only thing that could possibly be worse:

"I met him playing Call of Duty on XBox Live"





I literally have no more words for that.

The rest of the conversation was him describing the importance of XBox in his life, and other such fascinating subjects.

I tried to bow out of the remainder of the afternoon by telling him I needed to go clothes shopping for an upcoming trip (which was, incidentally, true). He asked to come with me.




If you want...?

And we thus embarked on the fastest trip to Macy's ever, in which I ran through the Women's section, narrating my thoughts like a homeless person so that he wouldn't feel like I was ignoring him, and purchased the first things I saw that had a chance in hell of fitting (AND were on sale- even distracted by a bad date, the Jew in me will save money!).

And then I dropped him off at the train station and left, vowing never to see him again.

Did I keep that vow? Are you really even asking that? Have you read this blog? Go back and read a few entries. Go ahead. I'll wait.


You're back? Excellent. Then you know that there is a part II to this story coming soon...

Friday, November 19, 2010


I'll go ahead and admit it- I am a full-blown, bona-fide Gleek. I love everything about Glee- the storylines, the music, the acting...occasionally the lack thereof. And seeing as how I haven't been dating lately (blah blah blah grad school blah blah blah work blah blah blah I'd really just rather stay home), I have had a lot of time to watch (and reflect upon) Glee.

Nota Bene: If you've never seen Glee, or if you don't like it, you'll probably want to skip this post. I'll try my hardest to snag myself an interesting date for your reading pleasure real soon...

Particularly the appearance of not one, but TWO adult female virgins! When Emma Pillsbury (played by Jayma Mays) admitted to being a virgin last season, I immediately began scouring the internet for opinions. What did people think? Were they shocked? Angry? Disgusted? Did they even care?

Apparently, not really. I have not been able to find a single comment, negative or positive, on this development, on the ENTIRE INTERNET!

Ok, on the first page of a Google search of "emma pillsbury virgin". Same diff.

But I was shocked. Sure, this woman has some serious issues, but she's sweet and gorgeous and thin- I would have thought at least ONE man would have had sex with her in spite of her issues.

But not a one. Not even sweet Will Schuester (Matthew Morrison). And no one on the internet finds this mentionable. It's as if this is totally and completely expected...

In which case I am SOOO totally screwed. I may as well be Coach Beiste (Dot-Marie Jones), McKinley High School's startlingly masculine football coach, whose physical appearance is supposedly so abhorrent as to be able to calm the raging sex hormones of the school's teenagers. She admitted two episodes ago that she has never been kissed, and was subsequently granted a tender peck by (apparent virgin magnet) Mr. Schuester.

What does the Internet have to say about this? They mostly feel bad for Coach Beiste because her first kiss was a "pity kiss". Which, I admit, was pretty much my feeling, too.

However, a few folks have chimed in that the kiss in question might not have been a pity kiss at all. It could have been a friendly, platonic kiss. There might have even been some romantic intention...

To which I say bullshit. First of all, a platonic kiss on the lips? Call me old fashioned, but I don't go around kissing my platonic male friends on the lips. And romantic intention? The man wouldn't even mess with the hot virgin!!!

But you know what? The fact that he's been messing with virgins at all is good enough for me. Because even though popular media is portraying adult victims of unintentional virginity as neurotic and/or unattractive, the fact that they are being portrayed at all gives me a solid case of the warm fuzzies.

And isn't that what television is supposed to do?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Out of the mouths of babes...

When I'm not out trolling for gentleman (gentle-ing for trolls would be more like it...), I work as a private duty nurse. One of my clients, an older woman, likes for me to sit with her during meals and chat. We discuss a variety of topics, and today she broached the subject of my love life:

Client: So, do you have a boyfriend?

Me: No, not right now.

Client: You know, that's the problem with your generation. You're all looking for love. Love isn't what's important. It's good communication and great sex.

Me: (stifling a laugh by stuffing cereal into my mouth) So, you think communication and sex are more important than love?

Client: (shrugs) What is love? I don't know, and I've been married and had lovers. Did I love them? Who knows? But I enjoyed talking to them and sleeping with them.

May I someday have as vital a "love" life as my dear client.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Apparently, my blog is in communication with species from another planet

w I7( ?? y??????? DE?A??X?.??s ?lN???2; B????? z?A??N? ]?a?i ???r?;?.?@?7(????a{ ??y?<]v? ? ? ?A??? J???? d~??? ] ???9H?@ ?tP> ??

Or, I tried to post to my blog from my phone, and it didn't work.

One or the other.

Here's what this post was ACTUALLY supposed to say:

In a cab right now. The cabbie is definitely hitting on me:

"What's your name? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you like Indian food?" says the (Indian) cab driver.

I'm playing along...what else am I gonna do while trapped in a cab? Blog? (Editor's note: Apparently, can't do that either...)

Then he asks my age. So I coyly reply, "Guess.."

He guessed 35!!!!!! Then mentioned that drinking Diet Coke makes you fat! Guess what I'm drinking right now!!!!

Smooth, Cabbie frog...real smooth. You don't even get a fake number now...

(Editor's note, part 2: Although he did give me his "business card" at the end of the ride, which I promptly trashed.)

Thursday, September 23, 2010

How to lose a girl in 10 seconds

As you may have noticed from the lack of posts lately, I have not been dating recently. Not that I don't want to, but with starting school and a new job, I just haven't had the time.

But now that things are finally starting to calm down, I am back on the prowl. Blonde Roommate suggested I try OkCupid for my next venture, so I put up a profile, answering questions like "What do you like to do on Friday nights?" by explaining that I often throw a potluck dinner for my friends, and other things like that which make me awesome.

Less than an hour later, I had a new message in my inbox.

Woohoo! Maybe this is the website I've been looking for!

What did the message say?

"Whoa pot luck dinners? R u 50? Ha"