Burned.

Well, I didn’t do a zombie pub crawl yesterday, although I was still pretty much a zombie. Saturday night was a disaster. Here is how that went down.

Unsuccessful Date Guy. I went to his variety show Saturday night after the Broadway show. Now, despite the fact that I SAID he was unsuccessful, he took me to lunch (his own initiation, btw) on Friday. We had a lovely time, catching up, eating sandwiches… I obviously thought that things were turning around and we could go back to Potentially Successful Date Guy. Well, I have a new (and much more permanent) nickname for him. I think it’s going to be Two-faced Douchebag (2FD for short). 

So lunch on Friday was lovely. I thought things were going well, so I decided to go to his show Saturday night. He was there (and acting a little weird) and sitting next to a skinny blonde girl, who was texting away. Soon it became clear that he was familiar with the blonde. In fact, VERY familiar. It was his girlfriend who lives in Pittsburgh. So, while the rest of the night he basically pretended that he only knew me in passing while I sat literally next to his girlfriend, I drank at least an entire bottle of wine. 

The worst part is not that literally EVERYONE in the bar is our mutual friends who knew that I had been seeing 2FD or that they also all knew the Blondie was his real girlfriend and I was the other woman. It was definitely the fact that he openly chose her over me and, in a moment of true character coming through, totally and completely failed every test of decency that I could have used to make an excuse for him. Especially after repeatedly telling me that he sees us together and he’s going to break up with his “long distance thing” who is obviously a lot more serious than he’d let on.

When he went out to have a cigarette, and I had consumed about 3 glasses of wine, I struck up a conversation with Blondie. She models professionally and has her own company. She’s in town pretty often. He goes to her place pretty often. Oh, and did I know he’s allergic to cats? She has two, but he deals with it for her. I played along like I didn’t know him very well and I never told her that I was sleeping with her boyfriend. I’m a classy lady. And in any case, telling her what a piece of shit he is wouldn’t change the fact that he didn’t pick me. 

Then later, his OTHER ex girlfriend (also a blonde model) showed up for the show. Seriously? How many women in this bar have you FUCKED, 2FD? Am I LIVING in my own nightmares? OMG. 

So, the moral of the story is that I got totally burned this weekend. 24 hours later he texted me “I’m sorry about last night.” Well, too little too late, Buddy. Go fuck yourself. I don’t exactly think a delayed text apology is going to instantly make this water under the bridge.

I moped a lot yesterday, but today I’m moving on. I already did the running man naked in my living room to Marky Mark and then followed it with Cher. Pumping up my morning to remember that I am young, single, and living in New York City. And I can do better, biotch! I DO believe in life after love, Cher. Thanks for reminding me.

:D

I was just thinking how at about this time last year I was house-sitting for my family friends and having a “Home Alone” worthy experience with their cats. Weird. That seems like another lifetime ago.

In fact, I was breaking down the themes of the last few years. 

2010: The Year of the Trainwreck

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I got a DUII and 4 traffic tickets (that should really seal the deal right there, actually) I was living with a musician 11 years older than myself and performing housekeeping services for him in lieu of paying rent until  he proposed and I moved out. Hmm.  I had a little too much rock and roll going on for an average 22 year old.

2011: The Year of Change

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I changed addresses 3 times. One from the musician’s house, back to my parents’ house, and then to my Upper West Side residence 3000 miles away. New job, sold the car, traveled a lot… 2011 was a really excellent year for growth.

2012: (Tentative theme, since we are still pretty fresh into it) The Year of the Perma-vacation

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I’m not going to lie- I love living in NYC. I love that I am busy and have something going on every single night and (selfishly) it’s all about ME! I don’t have pets to let out, kids to pick up, a significant other who has any expectations of me whatsoever. It’s amazing! I go to work, where my boss loves me and I get to see people be happy with their engagement rings. I go out to bars with cool people or amazing restaurants for dinner afterwards. I go to Broadway shows (For FREE) about once a week. AND my new roommate is awesome, my new apartment is awesome, and, honestly, the only thing I can even complain about in my life right now is the weather. Life is fucking amazing. 

That said- I have a birthday party with an “All You Can Drink” Cocktail situation going on in a couple of hours. What a way to kick off Memorial Day Weekend! Tomorrow I have brunch plans, followed by a Broadway show, and on Sunday I will be attending a Zombie themed pub crawl. Bring it on!

Expanding my Comfort Zone... in Fashion.

I am not an exciting dresser. For the most part, my wardrobe is several pairs of the exact same jeans and a bunch of t-shirts that I either got for free from a promotional event, or purchased at a brewery or concert. I don’t let underwear and socks go until they disintegrate in the dryer (much to my sister’s disappointment).  NYC is out of my element, clothing-wise.

Not dressing quite this saucey... yet.

However, recently I acquired some more interesting clothing from my friend who is a fit model and insists that I spice up my wardrobe (aka- go buy clothes from somewhere that doesn’t serve food as its primary function.) 

Today I put my fashion foot forward and wore an article she passed on. They are ribbed black leggings with little metal snaps on the sides. Edgy. It’s like wearing a sweater on my legs, except due to the fact that I have a “crack-back*,” they keep slipping down, which is awkward. Luckily I am wearing a long, boring gray sweater over top so I am still mildly in my comfort zone dressing like a shadow, and I can pretend they are like regular stockings.

Due to my fashion-forwardness today, I expect I got the burst of confidence to try one more time for UDG by texting him to ask him out for coffee. And he said yes! Details still to be worked out, but still! It's happening! I give all credit to these aggressively fashionable sweater-pant things that I would have entirely passed on in the store. 

Fab!

Other than that, not much is new. I am going to a play tonight Off-Broadway called “Old Jews Telling Jokes.” I think the title is going to be a spoiler alert, much like “Snakes on a Plane.” But I’m open to it! It’s a good Friday for spicing things up!

*Vocabulary lesson, via my sister: Crack-back is when your legs simply turn into your spine, with no butt for transition. Incredibly frustrating.

Hamper of Social Justice.

I’ve decided to really commit to living in NY. That’s right. Buying STUFF. I’ve started with a hamper. I had skipped work on Tuesday and I decided not to make my “sick” day a total waste. So I boarded a subway, headed to Target and spent 45 minutes selecting the hamper of my dreams. It ended up being only about $10. However, upon exiting Target, I encountered a lesbian activist on the street with a clipboard. This is generally the type of person I go out of my way to avoid, lest they stir up my guilt even more than what I was already experiencing for skipping work when I was, in fact, not actually sick. 

My first piece of "furniture" in NY.

But she got me.  20 minutes later, I am filling in my credit card information, agreeing to pay $8 a month to support gay rights. So now my $10 hamper is going to be more like a $100 hamper. Although I will be receiving a quarterly issue of “Equality” magazine, which I expect I might enjoy reading while waiting for my laundry. So it ends up being a package deal.

I had skipped work because I’d gone on a date the night before with a guy I’d met on Cinco De Mayo. He described himself as “unemployed” although I think it might be more accurate to say “freelance blogger.” (He actually has a subject to blog about, and, even more impressive, people who subscribe to it.) I thought his confidence and unconventionality were attractive traits, plus he’d actually CALLED (instead of texted) to ask me out. I figure if you actually call, I’ll probably say “yes” to any request just to reward the good behavior. Old school dating tactics still work, Gentlemen. 

We stayed way too late, but had fun, and we are going out again tonight. Clearly this is a better choice than UDG, who seems to have no idea what the purpose of his phone is.

Epic Fail.

Last night I had a weird dream about Successfully Potential Date Guy, who, let’s face it, is back to being Unsuccessful Date Guy. After a week of mysteriously unexplained silence, I finally texted him to let me know either way if he has any interest in going out again. No answer IS my answer. Bummer.

But I still had a dream about him last night. An awkward, sexual dream.

In this dream, UDG is super into me. We’re talking, laughing, making out and having a good time. Soon, things begin to get pretty heated between us. Just as we are about to have sex, UDG suffers some kind of erectile dysfunction and I have to call Crystal (his fictitious nurse friend I made up in the dream) and she comes to help him out of this awkward blue-balls dilemma. I end up basically being a nurse’s assistant, all romance missing from the entire situation, and then my alarm goes off. The moral of the story is I never get laid. Not even in my own dreams.

What I suspect NJ Contractor is doing after work.

Today I am in the office with one of the contractors from our remodel project. He’s an Italian guy from New Jersey whose father was murdered by the mob. He’s answered the phone already 3 times this morning, two from sexual conquests and one from a very pissed off ex-wife. Perhaps I should take away at least some dating advice from him- he’s very direct with all of these women. Here is an example conversation:

NJ Contractor: So you wanna get togetha tonight?

Woman on the phone: ‘’’’’’’’ (She sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher)

NJ Contractor: Well, is it going to be like a 10-15 minute conversation or do you wanna sleep together?

Woman on the phone: ‘’’’’’’’’

NJ Contractor: And you can’t do it on the phone? All I’m sayin’ is… that’s what happens when we get togetha.

<Hangs up phone>

NJ Contractor (to me): So you mind if I have a smoke in here, or what?

All I have to say is TGIF.