Saturday Night Part 3: Back to Missy's Place

Saturday night, almost 2AM, and the three of us were headed back to Missy’s bar. Bailey just got done learning some good lessons on how to talk to girls and we finally all came into agreement that Jay’s utilitarian approach to meeting women was indeed the best method to follow. We had one last promise to fulfill and that was to visit Missy at the end of the night.

As we continued our drinking, I began to unlock. Again my amazing powers of speaking without thinking flourished and I became the invincible drunken guy.

Jay, Bailey and I were spitting off one liners and exchanging quips with Missy as she kept (irresponsibly I might add) serving us liquor. The DJ was playing loudly and the music was horrible. It sounded like it was being amplified by a megaphone. My ears were bitter with me, but I ignored their pleas for asylum. I was after all in the company of Missy and well, that just took precedence.

This guy: “Yo this sound system blows it. It sounds like shit in here.”

Bailey: “Yeah, I agree, it sounds like ass.”

Bailey used to DJ with me in our formative years so he knew exactly how I felt about the soundsystem.

At that moment Missy walked back to our area.

Jay: “Yah man, it sounds horrible. Missy, you need to tell 70Mil to get new speakers in here, it sounds like shit.”

Bailey: “Plus the music isn’t helping any either.”

This guy: “Yeah, so tell 70Mil to change the Dj out as well.”

Missy: “You guys don’t like hip hop?”

This guy: “Hip hop is alright, but the Dj sucks. He can barely transition out of songs and this like the 18th time I hear Gold Digger [Kanye West – Late Registration – Def Jam Records]”

Jay: “What kind of music do you like?”

Missy: “I like Reggaeton.”

What? How the hell does this waspy white girl like Reggaeton?

This guy: “What do you know about Reggaeton? “

Missy: “Well my boyfriend is a Dj, that’s what he plays, what do you mean what do I know about it? Its good.”

“Check PLEASE!” I said making the internationally understood hand gesture for asking a server for the check.

There were 2 clear problems here, 1 she just told us she has a man, and 2 she just told us she is into Reggaeton, which is the latin equivalent to hardcore techno. The same exact beats with different lyrics or musical hooks. I think I once fell down a flight of steps and accidentally wrote a Reggaeton jam.

Missy: “What is wrong with reggaeton?”

Jay: “What is not wrong with it?”

Missy: “Well whatever, I like it.”

With that she walked away to tend to some custies (that’s bar speak for customers for all you people out in the mid-west). This was the perfect opportunity to talk with the steering committee about the current state of affairs.

Jay: “I think she’s feelin you man.”

This guy: “Nah dude, you heard her, she has a man.”

Jay: “What’s her man got to do with you?”

Jay likes to beat that into my head. He feels that I close too many girls out of my life the minute they tell me they have a man. Am I wrong for doing that? Do I really want to pick up a chick with a man? No, but Jay insists that it’s not up to me, its up to her if she wants to cheat.

This guy: “Dude, she got a man, plus she is a bartender, we all know that bartenders are trained to talk with custies to one: retain them, and two: get big fat tips.”

Jay: “Listen, first of all, cancel that shit. She is feeling us, you see the way she hangs out here and no where else. She smiles at you, she flirts, dude it’s in the bag.

Bailey: “Yah I think she likes you.”

This guy: “Whatever she’s coming back.”

Missy returns for more drunken abuse.

Missy: “How are you getting home?”

This guy: “I’m driving.”

Missy: “Give me your keys.”

This guy: “Ok.”

I got a warm fuzzy feeling when she took my keys. I like it when a girl worries about me; it makes me feel taken care of. Call me a sucker for like a girl with a nurturing instinct.

Missy disappears again to tend to some bar patrons.

Jay: “See, she took your keys. How you supposed to get home?”

This guy: “Good question.”

Jay: “I don’t drive and Bailey lives here. She is going to have to give you a ride home.”

This guy: “Really? You think she would do that? I’m a stranger.”

Bailey: “I say we see how it plays out.”

Missy returns.

This guy: “So Missy, your man is a DJ huh?”

Missy: “Yes, why?”

This guy: “And he plays reggaeton right?”

Missy: “I thought we went over this.”

This guy: “So what are you going to do when he comes out of the closet?”

Missy: “That’s mean.” She said with a laugh. “That’s not all he does you know. He is a financial advisor or some shit like that for American Express.”

This guy: “Bailey’s mom used to be one of those, right Bailey?”

Bailey: “Affirmative.”

This guy: “See? So much in common.”

Missy: “Your stupid.” Said again with a laugh.

It was one of those “your stupids” that really meant “I cant believe you are making me laugh at the expense of my boyfriend. I love you.” … Ok scratch the I love you part, but when I was drunk it certainly felt like she loved me. That really was just the result of my over inflated, boozed up ego.

This guy: “Ok Missy, well I gave you all night to think of a time that you and I are to go out and have a ‘platonic’ date.

Missy: “Alright, I suppose we can go on a ‘Platonic’ date on Tuesday. I don’t work that day. So what do you got planned?”

This guy: “Don’t worry, it’s a surprise.”

Truth is I had nuthin, so I used the “surprise” crutch. The problem with that is that now you have to come up with some cool surprising shit. I can’t just be like “Surprise! We are going to Barnes and Noble!!!”

Well as the night is ending I get a call from none other than Kofa. Turns out he was in the area and he was about to come through. Always love Kofa’s company, that guy has a way of getting me level headed even when I’m trashed.

We were grabbing our last drinks when suddenly the mood changed. Missy is no longer fun and games, she is giving off this all business vibe. She casually walks up, reaches into her pocket, fishes my keys out and says the following:

“Listen, I’m really sorry, my boyfriend is here. I can’t drive you home.”

Now how should I feel about that? Most people say that I should feel dissed and crushed, but did you catch what she really said? She just got done apologizing for her boyfriend being there AND she acknowledged that her plan was to take me home. That’s fucked up for her boyfriend, great for me.

“Hey, no worries girl, my boy Kofa is coming through, he was going to give me the ride anyway. I didn’t really expect you to give me a ride home.”

Yes I did. But fuckit. Sounded good.

She walked away to close out some tabs and we stayed to finish up our drinks. The move was to have a conversation with my boys that seemed completely self contained and without the need for her input. Bailey somehow got me on the topic of magic tricks and well, anyone who knows me knows I love magic tricks. So we began to discuss the fine art of sleight of hand. Jay has seen all these tricks before so he decided to take a walk around the bar in search for some socialist ass. Oh right, I forgot to mention that there was a ‘young socialist’ convention that was happening at the bar. Thanks Columbia University and your gay ass free thinking hippie movement! All the socialists, by the way, looked like unshowered white lesbians with dreadlocks. Jay’s favorite kind. I digress.

While in the middle of showing Bailey one of my finest tricks, Missy comes by and interrupts as if she felt compelled to be part of our now “members only” conversation.

Missy: “What are you doing?”

This guy: “Show her Bailey.”

Bailey goes on to show off his fresh off the press, newly learned magic trick. He nails it. That boy makes me proud.

Missy: “That’s crazy, how’d you do that?”

Bailey: “It’s Maaagic.” He says in his best David Copperfield voice.

What a showman.

Missy: “So do you know which one is my boyfriend?”

Her man was sitting across the bar with another guy, I wasn’t sure which one it was but I took a guess.

This guy: “The one closest to us?”

Missy: “No, the other, that guy is his friend.”

I lean to the side to look past Missy who was standing directly in front of me and I see what he looks like. Probably the most accurate definition of a tool.

This guy: “I got that nigga beat!”

You know how you can tell when Kofa shows up somewhere? I start talking like him. He just arrived.

Missy laughed at my remark and walked back to the register to retrieve our tab. I decided to go to the bathroom and in doing so; I had to pass her man. As I walked passed him I noticed him grilling me super hard. I ignored it, went to the bathroom, peed, and then returned to my seat.

Missy hands me the bill and walks away. The bill was remarkably low because she only charged us for half of the drinks. She really did love us. She returned, I gave her my credit card and she settled us out.

Kofa: “Nigga are you drunk?”

This guy: “No…. YES!!!”

Kofa: “Give me your keys.”

This guy: “Your so sweet sometimes, you know that?”

Kofa: “You stupid.”

Missy returns with my receipt.

Missy: “Don’t forget. Tuesday.”

This guy: “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

We all give her a hug and finally leave the bar. We hop in my car, I pass out, Kofa ends up giving everyone a ride home, picking up his honey, and finally taking me home.

This was the end of a long ass Saturday night and the beginning of the Missy saga. Stay tuned as I pull my very special “return the next day” move and manage to get myself into more trouble. The story of missy, my friends, is not one to be missed. Some very complicated, interesting, and foul things happen that make me rethink this whole dating thing….

Saturday Night Part 2 of 3: Hanna and Paige

Bailey is a social retard. When he graduated high school, he tooled around in DJ’ing and partying for a little while before he realized his life was headed in the wrong direction. He found himself installing cable TV with no real aspirations. He soon realized that the military was the way to go for him. He joined up, did his time, kicked ass in school and left with an honorable discharge. The military gave him the discipline he needed to keep pursuing school and when he got out he made a dedicated attempt at getting into an Ivy League school. He did, and that’s how Bailey and I were reunited in New York City.

As you might be able to guess, his life from his late teens to his mid 20’s were spent in a highly institutionalized environment and we all know military ladies aren’t the hottest of the bunch, so when it comes to talking to women, this guy is a moron. He’s got balls and no problem approaching them, but he can’t seem to say what it takes to land a number. Jay and I were determined to change that.

As we headed down to the midtown bar where Jay was having his function, we laid down some ground rules for Bailey.

This guy: “Alright Bailey, we are going to use this function to help you out a little bit. Jay and I are going to wing for you. It will be our mission to make you look good, but you need to know how to play off of us, you need to follow a few simple rules and we should be ok.”

Bailey: “Ok.”

This guy: “first rule is ‘Do not punk your wingmen to make yourself look good.’ If you try to make us look like jack asses, I will flip the script so fast you wont know what to do with yourself. You will instantly be eliminated.”

Bailey: “Ok.”

Jay: “If you are going to talk to a girl and she is with a bunch of people, say hi to the girl first but then be sure introduce yourself to everyone else. Include her friends in the conversation otherwise you will come off as creepy.”

Bailey: “Ok.”

This guy: “DO NOT bring up the Ivy League education unless they ask. It doesn’t have much street cred unless they are interested in it. If you want them to know, you might start by asking them where they go to school and if they ask you back, then you go ahead and tell them, but don’t wear that shit on your sleeve, that’s mad tacky.”

Bailey: “Ok.”

This guy: “Now since we are winging for you, you need to let us do our thing. We will set you up with great stories and good segue’s but you got to take it and run. We can only help so much.

Bailey: “Ok.”

Jay: “The chick’s we are meeting up with will probably not be the hottest girls around but they will make for good practice. So just pick one, let us work the mojo, and you knock em out. Just for practice.”

Bailey: “Alright, I’m gonna work the mojo. I’m excited about this.”

This guy: “One more thing. Please talk like a civilian. Can you do that?”

Bailey: “Check.”

We pull up to the bar and found a parking space. Bailey has been instructed on what to do. He was looking sharp, feeling good, and ready for what lies ahead.

When we get to the bouncer he tells us that there is a drink special going on where we could have unlimited booze for 25 bucks or we could just pay for our drinks as we went.

Jay: “Is that special for well drinks or can we use it for calls?”

Bouncer: “What?”

This guy: “Can we get a Kettle and Cran with this bracelet?”

Bouncer: “No, it’s the generic cheap shit.”

Jay: “Fuck that, how old am I? I’ll pay.”

This guy: “Me too.”

Bailey: “Yah I’ll pay as I go.”

Jay and I don’t drink cheap shit. Not that we are snobs, but we just can’t handle the hang over from cheap booze. Plus there is no feeling like the feeling you get when the first drop of Jack Daniels touches your lips. It’s like being home again. Is that Alcoholism? Whatever, I don’t got time to think about my vices introspectively.

We make it inside and Jay quickly finds his legal ladies. We have spotted them from afar. We make a quick assessment and Jay gives us the signal to have a bathroom meeting. We make a dash for the men’s room.

Jay: “Alright, I spotted my girl but the people she’s with are hideous. That’s what happens when you talk to law bitches that went to a shitty school.”

Jay went to a good school. The chicks at his school were hot (relatively speaking). I would probably be a snob about it too, can you blame him?

This guy: “So fuck it. Who cares? We knew this could be the case, lets just get some drinks and make our way over. “

Bailey: “So plan on?”

This guy: “Yes, this is just practice. The only thing that sucks is that it’s a bit loud out there so talking might be harder, but whatever, do your thing.”

We finish our bathroom meeting and prepare to interface with the legal ladies of lesser learning. Jay walks up, says his hello’s, makes the introductions, and begins to talk. Watching this guy start a conversation and carry it should really be studied by paranormal investigators, because it is fuckin scary how well he does it.

I tap him on the shoulder and ask him what he wants to drink; I take his order and head to the bar with Bailey. Now Jay was spot on when he said these girls were hideous. By god they were. I almost wanted to abort the mission, but this was for the betterment of Bailey. We had to carry on.

I grabbed 2 Jacks on the Rocks and a Goose and Cran for the sissy, I mean Bailey. We headed back over to the party and began the integration effort. I must admit, I gave it a freshman try, I was just not feeling these girls or even anything they had to offer conversation wise. Plus they were doing a pretty good job of ignoring Bailey and I, so we stood back and decided to blend into the background.

I was shocked by what happened next. Jay was holding down a pretty intense conversation and Bailey and I were scanning the room. He spotted a chick standing by the dj booth with a bored look on her face. I had noticed her first, but Bailey commented on her first. He set his sights on her. I, being a nice guy, decided I would help wing for him if the conversation ensued, but told him he had to make it happen.

That he did. The chick by the dj booth motioned to her friend, who was also cute, that she was going to smoke a cigarette. Bailey saw this and took advantage of the situation that presented itself. He grabbed 2 cigarettes, gave one to me, and followed the girls out. He was making a move. I was proud at that moment.

We make it outside and before I have time to reach for my lighter, Bailey is asking them for a light. They light his cigarette, then mine and Bailey starts a conversation.

Bailey: “Thanks for the light, what’s your name?”

“Hanna and this is Paige” she said gesturing to her friend.

I hung out in the background for a minute waiting to see if he would introduce. He did and again I was proud. Bailey had just passed another test. The conversation started up rather quickly and I would like to say it was because Bailey had some hidden secret power, but it was mostly because Hanna, the girl we spotted by the DJ booth, was drunk as hell.

Bailey: “So where are you guys from, you from around here?”

Not such a good opener, but it’ll do.

Hanna: “No, we are from New Jersey. Paige is from… is from Hoboken but I’m from the shore. Like the shore shore.”

Holy crap she was drunk.

Paige looks at me and mouths the words “she has had a lot to drink.” I give her a wink and kinda laugh it off.

This guy: “So you live in Hobroken, huh?” (purposely mispronounced)

Paige: “Yah, I like it.”

This guy: “It’s a little bit of a voyage what are you doing out here?”

Paige: “Well its not really that far, it only takes me 20 minutes to get here. But I’m out here because I work here.”

This guy: “Oh yeah? What do you do?”

Paige: “I handle the events and do the party planning and so forth.”

This guy: “Ahh, so you’re the one I need to know. That’s cool. Well we are having fun so your doing a great job.”

Paige: “Thanks, tonight is crazy cause I got Hanna here with me. She doesn’t come to the city so often so I try to take her out, but working and keeping track of her is hard.”

The whole time I was talking with Paige, Bailey was talking with Hanna. I didn’t get to overhear much of it, but from the sounds of things he was still holding a conversation, I decided to rejoin them.

Hanna: “…Colorado. I love it there so much, but I haven’t gone in a long time.”

This guy: “Hey Bailey, didn’t you used to live in Colorado?”

Bailey: “Yes, I just said that like 2 seconds ago.”

This guy: “Oh sorry, I walked in at the tail end.”

Hanna: “Yes, you did, but like I was saying… I was saying that I love Colorado. It’s so pretty and nice and the mountains and the air. But I love it.”

Jesus she was trashed.

Paige: “Hey Hanna, I have to go inside to take pictures of the party, I’ll be back.”

Hanna: “Wait, lets take a picture of ourselves.”

This guy: “Here, let me take the picture, you guys go ahead and get together.”

Paige hands me the camera, I stand back, frame them up, and snap the picture. It came out cute. All was going well.

Bailey: “Here take a picture of us.”

TAKE A PICTURE OF WHAT? WHY? Why would we impose that on them? If they wanted a picture they would have asked. Feeling somewhat retarded, I stood next to Bailey, gave my cheesiest smile, and waited for the picture to be snapped.

This guy: “Cheese.”

The picture is taken and we are forever immortalized (until she deletes it from her cameral to make more room for better pictures) in her digital camera.

This guy: “I probably closed my eyes. I’m notorious for having my eyes shut in pictures.”

Hanna: “Me too. Oh my god… no… oh my god, every time, every time someone takes a picture of me, I just know when its going to flash and my eyes automatically close.”

This guy: “I know exactly what you mean; I have fucken spider sense for flash bulbs.”

Hanna: “Me too. Yes, I know what you mean. Yes.”

This guy: “We’ll let’s see how sharp your sense is; let me take a picture of you…”

Here we go again. I busted out my trusty picture phone and framed her up in the shot. I couldn’t believe I was using this old trick again, but why not, it has like a 98% success rate. I snapped the picture. She was very photogenic. I mean she took really pretty pictures.

This guy: “Look your picture came out perfect!”

Hanna: “That never happens.”

This guy: “Well let me send it to you so that you have proof that you can take pictures with your eyes open. What’s your phone number? I’ll send it to your phone.”

She begins to recite her number when I notice Bailey grillin me. I look over at him and realized I was stepping on his game. I had to take evasive action.

This guy: “Better yet, why don’t I send it to your email address. That way you can save it onto your computer when you get home.”

Hanna: “Ok, sure. Ok…sure.”

She gives me her email address and I send it off to her email. Bailey stops grillin me and we continue.

This guy: “So what do you do down by the shore Hanna?”

Hanna: “I’m a third grade art teacher.”

Bailey: “So you’re like the hot teacher huh?”

Hanna: “Yes I guess I am. No, it’s funny because someone wrote ‘Miss Hanna is hot’ on the bathroom wall and the kids asked me about it.”

This guy: “What did you say?”

Hanna: “I told them that it wasn’t nice, that it was not nice to write things about people on bathroom walls.”

By this point Jay noticed that we were not around and decided to investigate. He showed up outside and right behind him followed Paige making her return.

Paige: “You guys are still out here, huh?”

This guy: “We were just about to go in to get a drink, but Jay just showed up. Jay this is Paige, Paige this is Jay. That over there, that’s Hanna talking to Bailey.”

Like a true conversationalist, Jay launched into a conversation with Paige. Suddenly everyone was carrying a different conversation. I went back over by Hanna and Bailey.

Hanna: “… so I am Jamaican.”

This guy: “What?”

Hanna: “Well my grandfathers father helped build the panama canal, but then he moved to Jamaica and married a Jamaican woman. They had my grandfather and then he married a white woman and they had my father, so I’m part Jamaican.”

This was the whitest girl I have ever seen in my life, but ok. I decided that conversation was too much for me to care about and went back to Jay’s conversation with Paige. We discovered that she was Lebanese and that she was, in fact, a pretty cool person to know.

By this point we had spent a lot of time outside talking to these 2 girls so I decided it was time to break it up a little just so that we didn’t seem over eager.

This guy: “Jay lets go get those drinks.”

This was a good stopping point for the night. Paige grabbed Hanna and went inside, we grabbed Bailey and went in as well. So far Bailey had done a great job of keeping a conversation with a drunk chick, but now it was time to bring the party back inside.

We went in, walked up to the bar and picked up some more drinks. Jay and I got our usual Jack on the rocks but Bailey, fresh off his talk-to-chick high, decided on a Goose on the rocks. Our little boy grew some balls. Maybe his balls grew too big though because the rest of the night doesn’t go so smooth.

We run into Hanna and Paige again inside the bar by the dance floor. Paige takes the opportunity to drop Hanna off with us so that we can baby-sit her while she finishes up on some work she has to do.

Hanna: “I want to go out dancing. Like I want to dance. I don’t want to be in this place anymore. You guys are going to come with us right?”

Bailey: “Sure, we can hang with you guys.”

Hanna: “Great because I want to leave this place. I want to shake my booty. This place sucks.”

I look over at Jay and Bailey and remind them about our plans to head back up to the upper west side to hook up with Missy.

This guy: “Yo, she is way too drunk right now. They should probably just go home. We can probably have a better time in the upper west side.”

I said that rather selfishly because really it meant I would have a better time, but who cares.

Bailey: “Yah your right. Well let’s see how it goes.

Jay: “I’m down for whatever.”

We kill a few minutes dancing with Hanna and finish our drinks. Just as we are about to leave, Hanna asks us to go for another smoke with her. Paige finds us leaving and exits with us. We all gather outside the bar, light up our smokes, and try to figure out what the next move is going to be.

Bailey finally realized that Hanna was way too drunk and that it would be a better bet to head up town. Paige looked as if she was ready to go home as well so it was definitely a better move to part ways. There was only one thing left to do. Bailey needed to get a number. That was the plan, that was the objective, and that’s what he had to do.

Hanna: “So where are we going now?”

Bailey: “Well we are actually thinking of going to the upper west side.”

Hanna: “Why would you go up there? That’s far.”

Bailey: “I go to school there and I live there.”

Uh oh, a red flag went up. I hope he is not trying the Ivy League thing.

Hanna: “Isn’t that by Harlem, I hate that area.”

Jay: “Well actually it’s Morning Side Heights. It went through assimilation, sorry I mean gentrification, and it’s really a nice area now.”

Bailey: “Look at this guy trying to bust out the Ivy League education using big words… and he didn’t even go to an Ivy League.”

Oh shit he’s going there. I fuckin warned him and now he’s going there. He is forcing the Ivy League issue to regain control of the conversation and he is punking one of his wingmen. The booze must have gotten to him because he is violating all kinds of rules.

Jay stops what he is saying, looks over at Bailey, gives him a hard look, then turns back to Hanna and continues his conversation. Jay spared his life. Did Bailey recognize the errors of his ways? No.
Bailey: “See I go to Columbia, I am allowed to use big words like that.”

I turn to Hanna and say: “Look at this guy. Going to Columbia for 3 weeks and so far he’s learned the meaning of assimilation and gentrification.”

Hanna starts cracking up. Sorry readers; had to do it. Jay spared him his life; I am not so forgiving when it comes to such clear violations of the wing man treaty.

Bailey: “What school do you go to?” He says looking to Hanna.

Hanna: “What are you talking about? I graduated college like 5 years ago. Anyway, I think it’s gay that you guys are going way up there when you can come out dancing with us.”

Shot down again. Bailey was sinking fast.

Jay: “That’s just where the night is taking us. Listen we can tell you some cool places to hit, but we really got to make our way back up there.”

This guy: “There’s a cool spot on Delancy and Bowry. It’s near by, close to the Holland tunnel, it should be a quick ride home for you guys from there.”

Paige: “Yah, we might do that. Hanna is a little bit of a handful right now though so I’m not sure how it will play out.”

I pull Paige aside.

This guy: “Listen, your friend is real trashed right now. You guys should just go home. You need to take care of your girl she’s in no condition to party right now.”

Paige: “Yah your right, we probably will just go home, but I have to tell her we are going to a club before she gets into the car.”

This guy: “Cool, well we are going to split, so we’ll see you here again right?”

Paige: “Yah, next Thursday we have another happy hour you should come.”

This guy: “We’re there.”

I return to the group just in time to witness Bailey’s deconstruction.

Bailey: “Check it; we can’t make it out tonight, but how about this? Next time you’re in town we’ll take you out. What’s your number?”

Why in the world would you ask for a number there? If you are going to leave it up to the next time she is in town, then she should have your number, because we are putting the ball in her court. Right? Bailey hadn’t considered that.

Hanna: “No. I’m not giving you my number. I don’t give out my number.”

If you remember correctly, I believe she was going to give me her number 4 minutes after meeting her when Bailey started grilling me. But I digress…

Bailey: “Ok, how about your email?”

Hanna: “I’ll give you that, but that’s gay. You should just come out with us tonight.”

Bailey: “Ok, forget it then.”

This guy: “Listen, take down her email, we’ll exchange info, and we’ll hang again some time. Plus we got that happy hour on Thursday right Paige?

Paige: “Right.”

Bailey finally extracts the information from Hanna and we part ways. It was ugly but she gave up her email address and he promised he would email her. As we began our walk back to the car we started to critique Baileys performance.

Jay: “Overall I’d say you did great for your first lesson. I was impressed.”

This guy: “Impressive yes, good start. You saw something, you went for it and you got a great conversation out of it. But you violated some rules man. The Ivy League thing backfired like I told you it would. You punked Jay and that backfired, and lastly this girl gave you lots of open windows and opportunities to run game and you kinda just let them pass you by.”

Bailey: “Well I thought I did a satisfactory job. Mission accomplished?

This guy: “For tonight, yes, but you still need some work.”

We hopped in the car and started making our way back to the upper west side. This would probably have been a good stopping point for this incredibly long story, but it can’t stop here. Bailey had one last lesson to learn before we were back at Missy’s bar.

This guy: “Alright man, you got to email her tonight.”

Bailey: “Negative, she lives in Jersey; do you really think it’s worth it?”

Jay: “Yes man, do it, you got nothing to lose.”

This guy: “For real Bailey, the worst that could happen is nothing. The best that could happen is that she writes you back. So fuck it. Just write her an email.”

Bailey: “I don’t know, I guess I will.”

This guy: “Look, if you don’t email her, I will.”

Bailey: “Alright, I will. It’s clear there is no man code in this car.”

As if in Sterero, Jay and I simultaneously say: “Man code?”

This guy: “Yo what? What are you talking about man code?”
Bailey: “Well when I go out with my college buddies we follow a code. You never creep up on a girl that your boy called dibs on.”

Dibs? How old are we again? Do people still call dibs?

This guy: “Are you kidding me? What’s to stop me from walking into a bar and calling dibs around the house?”

Jay: “Yah, that is ridiculous. We don’t apply that gay ass man code you talk about because it’s some teenager shit to do. We prefer the utilitarian approach. We do what ever is best for the team. The only code we follow is that we don’t creep up on your boy’s exes, but new bitches? That’s fair game.”

This guy: “Yah man, how arrogant is it that we actually think we can influence who a girl likes. The truth is, the guy never gets to pick the girl, the girl always picks the guy. Our job is to make ourselves available and presentable and let her decide. If you call dibs and she is into me, we all lose. You don’t get none and neither do I. “

Bailey: “I understand what you guys are saying, but I still think there is some value to the man code.”

Jay: “Look take your gay little man code to your Columbia boyfriends, but when you’re with us, son, we’re strictly utilitarian.”

Bailey: “10-4”

This guy: “Just curious, when you hang with your Columbia crew, does the dibs thing ever work?”

Bailey: “Yah, we went to a bar one time and my boy called dibs on this chick. He ended up taking her home.”

This guy: “Did you find her attractive?”

Bailey: “No.”

Jay: “That’s why your gay shit works. Cause you guys all have such varying tastes that you will never overlap. If that’s the case, it’s pointless to call dibs in the first place.”

Bailey: “Yah you’re probably right.”

This guy: “He is.”


I think we were finally teaching Bailey how to be a man. Showing him a little about real life and not this idealistic, dibs calling, sex in the city type shit that people that first move to New York imagine. He committed to writing Hanna an email and we were now headed back to Missy’s joint. It was 1:45AM and I was just about half way through what would prove to be a long long night.


Stay tuned for part 3, where we return to Missy’s bar, find out a little more about her and her situation, and I manage to get myself into one very interesting situation.

Saturday Night Part 1 of 3: Missy

Am I a predator?

No, but I can certainly learn something from them. A predator tends to focus on the weakness of its prey and exploit that to its advantage. I’m kinda guilty of that.

Shortly after the whole Daniela debacle I convened with the steering committee at a local upper west side haunt. We were mostly there to talk about girls and develop a better strategy for me. We wanted to dissect the Daniela experience and try to really find out why I couldn’t sleep with her and then cut her from my portfolio. Some task that was so seemingly simple was alas not possible for me to accomplish.

Bailey: “You know what I think? I seriously think you should consider just dropping this chick. She is way into you and clearly crazy, sleeping with her would just complicate matters and make it so that you can never get rid of her. ”

This guy: “Yah, I think your right. I’m just not feeling her right now. She is too much too soon. She is so ready to be a girlfriend that it just pushes me away. “

Jay: “No, listen, listen…” he says pointing his law finger at me. “you need to bag her and then get rid of her. You’ve invested way too much time to just walk away without getting ass. Never pass on ass.”

This guy: “Yah but you don’t understand man, she is too much. I’m not excited when I’m around her, I just kinda find myself trying too hard to like her and it’s not natural anymore. And when I do hang with her and I overdose on her it’s impossible to get rid of her. I don’t want to hang with her and have to deal with that shit again.”

Jay: “Look man, you got this shit in the bag. I’m saying, give her one last date. Don’t be hasty. “

Bailey: “Negative, don’t do it, you might compromise the integrity of your mission.”

With that we ordered our first round of beers. A tall thin bartender with long brown hair and a smile with just the right amount of stank approached us and took our order. We were captivated but unmoved by her as she was a bartender and we all know that they belong to a group known as the untouchables. When I met Angelika she was a bartender, and yes I landed the bartender, it was a victory for all of mankind, but as far as I knew, it was a fluke occurrence.

Jay: “Ok, so why do you think that you can’t just get in there and get out?”

This guy: “She’s catching feelings man, I’m not trying to make this girl crazy, I don’t need that kind of drama right now.”

Jay: “Ok, look, just agree to go on one more date with her, and we’ll be cool.”

This guy: “Agreed.”

Jay: “Look, what went wrong with this girl is that you took a genuine interest in her. You tried to get to know her. Try cutting that shit out next time. “

This guy: “Don’t know how Jay. That’s just what I do.”

My God!!! I think we just had a break through. Did I just figure out what my “Game” is? I always thought I was this pathetic game less mofo, but it was starting to become clear to me that my so called “game” is to get to know some one really well and cater to their likes. No wonder I am always ending up in these really long term relationships. I get to know someone really well before I sleep with them and suddenly she is a girlfriend, if I don’t like what I’m hearing as I get to know them, they get cut and I never get to sleep with them. I was programmed for long term relationships. This was all so terribly frightening.

I have managed to become the only dude in this effing planet that really does need to know someone that is both beautiful on the outside and on this inside. That is so frickin gay it hurts. Any normal guy can stop at exterior beauty. Me? I need to go a step further and interview them for the big night.

“Another beer please?” I said disgusted with myself.

The bartender returned with another brew and smiled. I, on the other hand, scowled back, but that’s because I was coming to terms with my new huge flaw.

Bartender: “What’s your problem?”

Jay: “He just realized he was gay.”

This guy: “Oh shut up. “

Bailey: “No see, our boy here just found out that he should be buying panties instead of boxers.”

This guy: “Oh what the fuck ever. What’s your name?” I asked the bartender.

Bartender: “Missy.”

This guy: “Don’t listen to a word they say Missy. Just coming to terms with a character flaw, that’s all.

Missy: “What flaw?”

This guy: “That I am too much of a nice guy.”

Jay: “This guy thinks that he needs to really get to know a girl before he sleeps with her.”

Missy looks over at me and with her softest sexiest voice says: “Your gay.”

This guy: “Thanks for that. Preeshiate it.”

She made me laugh. In fact we were all laughing at what just happened. I got punked by the bartender. Suddenly the conversation shifted. It seemed like all we could talk about now was the sexy Missy. We regrouped and reworked our strategy. We decided that we would talk with her and flirt with her and be stupid with her and see if it goes anywhere. We had nothing to lose and we knew we could have a laugh regardless. A pretty bartender with a personality and a few brews and suddenly we are cooking with gas.

As the night progressed we noticed that she began to hang out in our general vicinity. We were pretty much joking with her the whole night and she had us in stitches. This bitch was funny.

How incredibly appealing it is when you meet a hottie with a sense of humor. I mean even if none of us got the drop on Missy, we were all looking forward to having a new favorite bartender. She would make a regular out of us in no time. I was sure of it.

Booze unlocks me. I had plenty of it and was pretty much saying what was on my mind at this point. The rest of the guys were at the same level. It was at this point that we met the manager, an even cooler motherfucker that knew how to treat his guests. He went by the name 70Mil. Not sure what that means, but we don’t care.

70Mil was like a cruise director. He would jump in and out of conversations, get you to buy booze, buy you shots if you were moving too slow, and make you laugh with whatever came to his mind. As we all got drunk together the conversations got more and more interesting.

70Mil: “Which one of you likes Missy?”

The steering committee unanimously decided it was me and pointed their accusatory fingers at me.

70Mil: “Be careful she used to be fat.”

This guy: “Whatever, your stupid.”

70Mil: “I swear to god.” He says then he turns in Missy’s direction who at the time was serving another guest. “Missy how much weight did you lose again?”

Missy: “80 Pounds” She says nonchalantly as she finishes serving her customer.

Jay: “No fucken way. There is no way she lost that much weight.”

70Mil: “I swear to god, she showed me a picture the other day. I wouldn’t have hired her here if she came looking like that. I was shocked.”

Bailey: “There is no way.”

70Mil: “Ok, believe what you want.”

Drunk as I was, I decided to believe it. So back to the initial question that sits at the top of the post waiting to be explained. Am I a predator? No, but I did see an opportunity to exploit her weakness.

Fat chicks historically have been known for having low self esteems and great personalities. Well Missy certainly had the great personality, let’s see if she still had the low self esteem.

I suddenly began to feel ballsy and almost cocky. My self esteem and confidence levels shot through the roof and suddenly I was able to say things that I am normally too shy to say.

“So Missy, you really used to be fat huh?”

“Yes.”

“So do you still have fat girl mentality? Like do you have a low self esteem?”

Wow, did I say that? Not cool. I’m sorry dear reader. Please note that I really am a lot more sensitive and way smoother than that, but the booze had destroyed my ability to sugar coat things.

“If anything my self esteem is a little lower now that I lost all the weight because I’m more conscious of it.”

Wow, she laid those cards on the table pretty quick. I seized the moment and decided to continue my barrage of questions.

“Do you have a man?”

“Yes.”

“What does he do?”

“He is a Dj.”

“What does he spin?”

“Reggaeton.”

“Does he realize that is the shittiest music in the world?”

Being a DJ myself, I was able to make such a judgment. I have a vast collection of all types of music with the exception of Reggaeton. I leave that for Kofa.

Jay: “Does your man spin CD’s or Vinyl?

Missy: “CD’s”

Jay: “This nigga aint a DJ, he pushes play.”

Jay gets a little defensive when it comes to CD Dj’s. Kofa and I belong to the dwindling population of Vinyl mixers and we have schooled Jay in the nuances that make Vinyl a million times better than CD’s. For one Vinyl is Analog so you get a warmer sound. Did you know that the first time you play a vinyl records it is better than CD quality? True story. Plus there is the look and feel of mixing vinyl that really makes it an art form. Technology is making serious advances though and soon CD will win the DJ war, but Like a Jedi, I stand true to my love for vinyl.

Missy: “So what do you guys do?”

Jay: “I’m a lawyer for a small firm in midtown.”

Bailey: “I’m a student.”

This guy: “I’m a director for a midsized, highly capitalized start up.”

Sorry for being vague, but If I give any more details than that I risk being exposed to the very women I am dating. I’d rather play it safe.

Missy: “You’re all so full of shit.”

This guy: “I swear that’s what we do, why would we lie?”

Missy: “You’re all too young to be lawyers and directors; you probably just go to school with Bailey.”

Jay: “Ok, fuck you. Would I be wearing this suit if I was a college student? No, this suit probably cost more than Bailey’s tuition.”

This guy: “Why would I make that up? No really, I can think of cooler things to be. That’s what I do.”

Missy: “Prove it.”

This guy: “Jay do you have my card?”

Jay makes a habit of carrying my card. Can anyone ask for a better wingman? There have been times that we would talk to girls and I would go home without a number, only to get an email from them because Jay gave her my card when I went to the bathroom. Wingmen across the nation need to learn from this guy.

Jay: “Nah man, I’m out of cards.”

Missy: “How convenient.”

Then Bailey surprises me with an incredibly good idea. He pulls me aside and says:

“Tell her that if you can prove it to her she has to go out for drinks with you.”

“Great fuckin idea. They taught you that in the military?”

“Just do it.”

I turn back to Missy who was distracted by Jay and I proceed with the plan.

This guy: “Ok, if I can prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt, you have to go out for drinks with me.”

Missy: “Fine, go home and print up some business cards. It’s going to be hard to prove it to me.”

This guy: “Jesus your jaded.”

Missy: “Men are pigs.”

With that we wrapped up our tab and headed home. The following night’s plans were already being worked on. We had planned to hit this bar in midtown that Jay was having a function at, but we decided to make a quick stop at the Missy’s bar to show proof.

The next morning I woke up ready for the days events. Bailey had worked through the night developing “Operation Proof.” The idea was to get in there, show proof, then walk out.

Bailey: “Listen, this is the plan. At approximately 1100 hours we will penetrate Missy’s base camp and carry out a lightning strike operation. Within the span of a few minutes you are to walk up to the bar, show proof, ask for a date, then walk out. It must be done swiftly and precisely.”

This guy: “I can’t just walk in, leave my card and walk out. That’s too cold and harsh. Plus I would feel gayish doing that. How about we stop in for a beer, just one, then we bounce?”

Bailey: “Ok. That works too.”

That night we show up at the bar and just like we planned I showed her proof.

Missy: “Kinko’s did a good job this time.”

This guy: “That, my friend, is a real card.”

Missy: “Whatever, it’s so easy to make up business cards.”

This guy: “I’m not trying to put that much work into having drinks with you, if you want out of your deal, go ahead but I lived up to my end of the bargain.”

Missy: “So what exactly do you want to do on this plutonic date?” She said gesturing quotes over the word plutonic.

The word Plutonic doesn’t scare me. That’s just part of the disclaimer she has to use considering that she has a man. Doesn’t faze me one bit.

This guy: “Don’t worry, you just got to pick a time, I will take care of everything else. Now we have to head down town for this thing we have, but we will be back later. You got a few hours to think about a time.”

I winked at her, dropped a 20 on the table, and walked out.

This was the beginning of a long Saturday night. It was now 10PM and we were headed to Jay’s midtown function. The plan was to hang there for a few hours then make our way back to Missy’s bar to close out the night.

Stay tuned for the next post where we use Jay’s event to train Bailey in the art of picking up women. Somewhere between a beautiful opus and a monkey playing an Xylophone lies Bailey, our resident social retard. Then later we return to Missy’s place where she surprises us all. Especially me…

Date with Daniella 3 of 3. The conclusion.

It is a Wednesday. The apartment has been chick proofed. Pictures of Angelika removed. In fact, any items that might elicit a “What’s that? Where did you get that?” were removed. The place looks nice. Tonight I will get some booty.

I’m not a big fan of middle of the week dates, but for this momentous occasion, I figured it was as good a night as any. I must admit I was a bit nervous. I had not seen new booty for 4 years and I wasn’t sure how I was going to react. I had gotten to know the last one so well that I almost came to expect the same character traits and nuances that I had grown to love so much.

Also I had to readjust myself to the use of our fun rubbery friends, the condom. My ex was on the pill, we were both tested and faithful, so condom less sex was the norm. Now I have to go back to these little rubbery mood killers and I barely felt comfortable buying them. I feel like I missed out on a major life lesson by being a serial monogamist, I never did get the hang of condoms. No worries though, this guy is too smart to be condom less in New York City.

My biggest problem was buying these things. Memories of my first condom purchase flood my mind and the humiliation I felt as I paid for it and walked out of that quickie mart. The sales clerk didn’t say anything to embarrass me; it was more of a self imposed guilty humiliation. Funny thing is, I can go and buy tampons and walk up to the counter like I’m super man. I can even make small talk about it while I’m paying for it and walk out without ever feeling even just a little funny.

“Which do you prefer, the playtex gentle glide or the slim fits? Just want to get the best for my baby!”

Then I’d pay, smile and walk away. My ex taught me well. But have me buy some condoms and all of a sudden I’m the jack ass that goes up to the counter and buys a pack of gum, some chapstick, scratch lotto, and “oh let me get the Trojans?” as if I just so happened to notice I was out and figured I would pick some up to restock.

Do you know that you can go to the Trojan website and request a free sample? I do. In fact you can go to just about any condom site and get a free sample. You know how I know? Cause it beats the hell out of going to a store and buying them. I’ve just about hit up every condom site on the net and should have a hefty little collection of condoms arriving soon. Plus Kofa keeps his stocked so I can always borrow from the room mate.

But what about condom etiquette? Am I going know when to bust one out? Or how to put it on without loosing my rigidity? Or like what if I’m in the heat of the moment and I she goes “do you have a condom?” and it kills the moment? I mean I honestly don’t know because I’m seldom ever in that situation. I hate this part of dating. What do I do?

“Listen man, if you can get her to put it on with her mouth… that’s talent!”

“Wait what’s talent, getting her to do it, or the fact that she can do it?”

“Nigga, what do you think? If she can do it son, that’s the talent.”

Kofa isn’t black and neither am I, but sometimes he calls me nigga. I find it kind of endearing. We live in New York, that’s just part of our vernacular.

“Ok, so how do I find out if she can do it?”

“Just ask her.”

Ok, talking during sex is another tuffy for me. I mean if I am real comfortable or real drunk I can do it like a champ, but a new chick? I think the most I ever said to a new chick was “turn off the lights.”

“Look, I can’t just ask her. You know what? I’ll figure it out, I’ll just keep it by my bedside, when it looks like time to seal the deal, I’ll just reach over, rip it open, put it on, and continue, no big deal…”

“Yah son, it’s easy, relax. You’re makin a big deal out of nothing.”

So with my new confidence it was time to call Daniela and invite her over. I gave her a call and asked her what she was doing and she told me that she had class that day that would run till about 9PM. That was perfect because Kofa was going to his parents house around that time so I knew I would have the place to myself. I gave her the directions and the date was set.

She calls me at around 9:15 to tell me that she would be at my train station in 5 minutes. So I decide to meet her at my train station. I walk down to the station and just as I arrive she calls me to tell me she is there. We locate each other and meet up.

The first thing I do when I see her is giver her a kiss. That was my way of testing the boundaries. If we opened with a kiss then the rest of the night should build on that and end with some booty. That was the train of thought anyway.

“I’m hungry, lets get some food.” She said.

Being that it was late on a Wednesday, not many places were open, but we found a place that had good wraps, so we picked some up, headed to the local bodega, picked up a sixer of Heineken and a sixer of Heineken Oktoberfest Brew (its in a red label, its really good, I highly recommend it). So now we had some booze, the night is definitely headed in the right direction. The excitement was building.

We get to my place, I show her around, and she is impressed with my apartment and its furnishings. I have to give it to Angelika, she knew how to decorate a place like no one I knew. She gave it that woman’s touch that made the ladies feel safe and comfortable.

I grab a couple of glasses, pop open some brews, and we head to the living room. I put the food on the coffee table and turn on the James Bond lights. The James Bond lights are a set of track lights that cast that great halogen glow onto this shelf I have. They are called James Bond lights because you have to use this little remote control clicker to turn them on and it just seems like something that slick mofo would have. I digress.

We get comfy on the couch and get ready to eat. I say get ready to eat because after what is about to happen, I never actually get to eat. My food is nice and warm on the table and I got my fork in my hand, just as I’m about to stab it, I mean at the very moment that my fork prongs are about to penetrate the soft tortilla skin of my chicken wrap, Daniela asks me a question.

“Am I your rebounder?”

I froze.

“What? The hell kinda question is that?”

“Well my friends and I were talking and you just came out of a long relationship so I must be your rebound.”

In my mind I was thinking ‘You’re not anything right now, for Christ’s sake this is the third date, I can’t even say you’re the girl I’m dating right now!’

In real life I said:

“Look, I can’t convince you of anything nor will I try to. Fact is you have no reason to trust me or believe me because you hardly know me. All I can tell you is that what’s happened has happened and I am where I am at now. Take me at face value or don’t. You can put up all the walls you want and all the safety mechanisms you want, but in the end it’s up to me to knock them down and gain your trust right? So why don’t we continue to get to know each other and see where it goes.”

Holy shit! It’s as if the god of political bantor possessed me and said a whole lot of nothing. I’m pretty convinced that I can run for office now because what happens next is proof my political prowess.

“I don’t want to put up walls or play games.”

“Then you do what you need to do, but I got to say, it’s a bit premature for a conversation like this. This is just the third date.”

“You know what? You’re right. That was dumb. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s a stupid thing to say. Let’s eat.”

LET”S EAT?!?! Like forget about that whole conversation and lets eat? Imagine if Bush said “The war was a bad idea, forget it ever happened, lets eat.” That’s how ridiculous that moment felt to me. I was still on the defensive for some reason (what reason? Oh I dunno because maybe she almost called me out?) so I kinda got a stanky attitude and decided I would rather smoke a cigarette out on my balcony . Ok fine it’s a fire escape, but if I use a piece of plastic like a plate, it’s a plate right? Well this is my balcony.

She followed me out on to my balcony and began to small talk and chit chat with me. She seriously was able to put it all aside and pretend like it never happened. I decided to stop acting like a woman and just be cool again. Went back inside, sat back on the couch, looked at my food that was completely unappealing, and just decided to move on with flirty conversation. We popped open a few more beers and began to close in on the plan.

“Why do I always have to ask you for a kiss?”

“What you haven’t asked me for a kiss?”

“I just did!”

Ok, it’s on now. I grabbed her and starting making out with her on my couch. Clicked the James Bond lights off and began to jockey for a comfy kissing spot on the couch. When an average height dude and a tall girl try to make out on a couch, it’s weird. My knee was on the ground, my other leg was thrown over her like a saddle, my neck was in an awkward position and my chest muscles were failing me.

“Let’s go to my room.” I said ever so coyly.

“I don’t know if I should do this, isn’t it getting late?”

“So it’s 11PM big deal.”

“Yah but you said you had to be at work real early.”

It’s true, I did, I had a directors meeting at 7:45AM, but I didn’t give a shit.

“Well listen, I can call you a cab if you want.”

“I don’t want, as long as you don’t blame me for keeping you up, I don’t care. Let’s go to your room.”

I could almost taste it. Booty was just around the corner. Literally, my room was around the corner. We enter the lair.

She flops down on my bed on her back and I fall on top of her, we are kissing fervidly and passionately, I begin to slide my hands down her side and on to her hip. She is pulling on my shirt and touching me in places that haven’t felt foreign hands in ages. I slid my hand back up and cupped her right breast… things were flowing.

THEN….

“I should really go home.”

My eyes almost rolled out of my head.

“I can call you a cab, it will be here in 3 minutes, you’ll be home in 10. I would never have you take the subway this late at night.”

“I mean it’s late and the night can get later and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

With that she rolled me over and straddled me. I was not prepared for the weight of a tall chick. In fact, up until then, I just kinda imagined them weighing the same as small or normal sized chicks. But I didn’t let on, I maintained my composure.

She then leaned over to kiss me and was basically lying on top of me. I could fake it no more. I began to take deep breaths through my nose hoping to fill my lungs with enough air so that they wouldn’t collapse by the shear weight of this tall leggy chick on top of me. My nostrils could barely keep up with the air flow demands and my back up system kicked into place. I began to breathe through my mouth. Yes, while we were kissing, I was breathing through my mouth and I managed to turn what’s supposed to be a sexy situation into little more than mouth to mouth resuscitation. She got the hint and rolled off.

I tried to keep the spirit of making out alive but it was all just crumbling right before my eyes.

“I shouldn’t do this.” She said.

“Okie doke, let me call that cab.” I seriously needed to either get some booty or go to sleep because that directors meeting was going to suck hard.

“It’s just so late and…”

“It is getting late, but if it was that much of a problem I would have said something by now.” I said cutting her off.

“Well… maybe I can just crash here like on your couch or something.”

Jesus, this girl was all over the place.

“Look, if you stay, your staying in my bed, don’t be retarded. I have a big bed and I can stay on my side without ever once coming close to you, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want that. Fine I will stay.”

“Alright, but I’m seriously just going to bed cause I have to be up crazy early.”

“If I stay, will you respect me in the morning?”

Raise your hands if you don’t know how to fuck up this answer?

“Of course I will.”

I threw her some hospital scrubs I stole from my last job, got into my jammies, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. I gave it one last effort and I kissed her and rubbed her butt, but it was going nowhere.

“Ok, I’m going to sleep, if I snore, just roll me over. Good night.”

“You snore?!?!” She said sounding rather shocked.

“Yes, sometimes when I lay flat on my back and I’m really tired.”

“That’s funny, snoring always wakes me up. I’m a light sleeper. Ok, good night.”

She wasn’t kidding. It was 2:30AM when I finally knocked out. I was fast asleep dreaming about the beach when I get a nudge.

“I’m cold.”

“Would you like me to turn off the fan?”

“No, it’s ok.”

I looked at the clock and it was 3:30. I went back to sleep. I rejoin the beach in dream world, catching a tan off the coast of Mexico when…. NUDGE.

“Huh, what?” I said a little confused and sleepy.

“Your snoring.”

“Just roll me over, its easy, you don’t have to wake me, just push me and I will roll right over..”


Back to my dreams. The beach was gone but I was having a nice little dream about Angelika. How I missed her so. Just me and her hanging out watchin…. NUDGE…

“I’m hot.”

I looked at the clock and it was 4:50AM and I can’t believe she just woke me from spending quality time with my sweet, sweet Angelika. I was annoyed.

“Do you wan’t me to open the window?

“No, it’s ok.”

“Alright, just uncover yourself, you’ll cool right off.”

Closed my eyes and fell out. I don’t remember dreaming at this point, but I did fall fast asleep. I finally felt like I was getting good rest when the MOTHER EFFING alarm went off. I wanted to kill myself but instead decided to wake up and take a shower.

I got in the shower and took my ritualistic shower nap with my head up against the wall and the hot water pouring down my back. I dreamt that she would be gone by the time I got out. That, my friends, was just a dream.

I got out, brushed my teeth, cleaned up and went to my room. Guess who was still in bed wearing my scrubs? That’s right. Daniela. I told her that I had to be out in 15 minutes to which we responded…

“But I don’t have to be in class until 10:30.”

THE HELL DID SHE JUST SAY? I know she wasn’t trying to stay at my place while I went to work.

“Nah you can’t stay, my room mate will get shitty. You got to leave with me.”

Room mates are great; you can blame shit on them and make them look like the bad guy.

She began to dress up and I went to the kitchen to get some coffee. Amazingly, by the time I got back to my room, she was dressed and my bed was made.

“You’re the best” I said trying to give her some positive feedback for the good job she did making my bed.

“Thank you. Can I get my kiss now?”

The following are my thoughts and the order in which they happened.

1.) I know she didn’t bring a toothbrush…
2.) She BETTER not have used MY toothbrush…
3.) Wait… is that why the Listerine bottle was opened?

Putting my deductive reasoning skills to the test, I decided to kiss her. She tasted minty. I was right.

We left my apartment and I walked her outside. I pointed to the train and said that I would talk to her later. That wasn’t enough for her; she wanted a ride to the train. The very same train that was 1 block away. I called my co-worker who usually meets me at my place for a carpool and told him to stay by the train so that I could pick him up.

As we neared the train she asked: “what are you doing tonight?”

“Sleeping.”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“I dunno, probably sleeping.”

“What are you doing Friday night?”

Truth was, at this point I didn’t know what I was doing for the rest of her life. But I wasn’t going to be a complete asshole.

“I don’t know for sure, but we’ll talk before then. Cool?”

“Ok.”

I dropped her off, my co-worker jumped in, and off I went to the directors meeting. I was exhausted not by the lack of sleep, but by the effort I had to put forth to get rid of this chick. She was too much too soon. By the time I got to work I had already received an email that read:

“It was nice cuddling with you!”

Did we cuddle? I don’t remember no stinking cuddling. Cuddling? Eww… I’m not ready for cuddling. Her girlfriend like response put me off a bit. I ended up putting some space between us and toning it down. After speaking with the steering committee (all my friends that are trying to turn me into something I still have problems being) the general consensus was to drop her. Jay however felt different. He thinks I should bag her then get rid of her. I don’t know if I can, but I do have one last date with her in the near future. You will all hear about it when it does happen.

The lesson? A girl that sleeps over at your place on the 3rd date might be nutty, oh yeah, and be wary of chicks that have too much in common with my dearest Angelika.

As for my adventures, we are just getting started. After Daniela I go on to meet a few more. Stay tuned for Missy. The bartender who’s BIG LOSS is my gain.

Date with Daniella 2 of 3

It’s a Friday and it was time to see Daniela the giant Amazonian princess again. By this time I had so many picture messages and cellular texts that I felt like I’ve known her for a little while now. I knew this date would be better. I figured I could skip past a lot of the talking formality and just kiss her intermittently throughout the night. Why kissing became my new “funnest” thing to do beats the hell out of me, but it was, so that’s what I looked forward to.

Called her up, asked her what she was doing, then asked her to come out with me that night. She was down and suggested I come around 9 to pick her up. That was perfect because Friday was a busy day for me and that would give me time to finish what I had to do and then relax over a few drinks with Daniela.

On the “shit I have to do before I see Daniela” list, was to buy a new bed (I lost it in the “divorce” if you will) and help my room mate finish moving in. My room mate is a Dj/Recording Engineer/Free Lancer that goes by the stage name Dj Kofa. Well that’s one name of many Aliases he carries. He seems to think that each and everyone one of his musical personalities should have a different name. I can barely keep track of them all, so lets stick to the one I know.

Kofa and I go way back. He used to date my cousin, we soon became close friends, they soon broke up, we became closer friends, we started DJing together, now he fills the void that was left by Angelika in my apartment. He’s a great replacement, he’s clean, he’s funny, he’s over his ex (that’s a light at the end of the tunnel type thing for me), and he keeps me grounded with the special blend of almost moronic but actually quite pertinent wisdom he brings to the table. He’s super weird and that in itself makes the friendship worth it. When there is nothing on TV, I just observe him and I’ll be damned if I’m not thoroughly entertained.

So as we were wrapping up the move and cleaning the hell out of the place, Kofa engages me on my date for the night.

“Yo, you need to chill with this chick son. Sounds like you’re catching feelings, you been talking about her all day.”

“Hey listen, I haven’t been excited about seeing some one for a long time. Can I enjoy it for like a second?”

“Look man, I know you just got out of something big, you don’t need to be jumping back into shit that soon. See what you got to do is surround yourself with women. You need to build a team of girls.”

“Ok?”

“See you surround yourself with women and you start to become in tune with their needs. You begin to understand what they look for and what they’re about. I’m not talking about surrounding yourself with bitches you want to smash (that’s ghetto speak for girls you would like to have sex with), I’m talking about some plutonic ones in there as well. You build a basketball team of ladies. Here’s the lay out. The ‘Point Guard’ is the one chick you trust. She’s like the coach, she knows about all your other chicks and she gives you the advice you need to make headway. The ‘Shooting Guard’ is the chick you got the best shot with. She’s not necessarily the one you want to be with, but you know that if you worked it just a little it would be in the bag. The ‘Center’ is the girl that steals the spot light. The one you are most interested in. This is the one that you’re really working on. The ‘Small Forward’ is the full on rebounder. This is the one that fills the voids. Need some one to talk to you when your feeling like a bitch, call her. Need some one to stroke your ego, call her. You get me? Lastly you got the ‘Power Forward’, also known as the friend with benefits. You keep this network of ladies around you and you will have it all figured out in no time. You’ll be killin it son… KILLIN IT!.”

I appreciated his well thought out team of girls approach, but I’m not sure I can put together a team. That’s a lot of girls doing a lot of things that I need to keep track of. The best I could do is a doubles team in tennis, and that’s kinda gay. I’ll stick to one simple rule, make lots of friends and you’ll meet lots of people. I was starting to get he general idea though. Basically I need to enjoy experiences for the sake of the experience. I shouldnt put so much pressure on myself by looking for the next one.

You know, all the guys I talk to seem to have it figured out. Jay has "shelves" that I'm supposed to put women on, Bailey has "mission objectives" im supposed to follow, and Kofa has "teams" I'm supposed to build. Life as a single guy can be quite confusing and arduous, but I think I'm getting there.

It was now 8PM. I finished putting the bed together, moving Kofa in, and cleaning the hell out of the place. I was ready for some drinks and some female interaction with my "Center". I took a shower, put on the pimp gear, hopped in the car, and off I went.

I wasn’t sure what we were going to do that night, but I figured we would stay in her part of town. I was digging through my memory banks to see if I could pull some cool place out of my ass and pretend that I’ve been there before so that she could, by association, think I’m cool. Nothing. I couldn’t think of anything. Whatever, we had a car, I’ll wing it.

Picked her up about 9:05, and began to drive.

“So where do you want to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t really feel like hanging out in my part of town, what’s going on in your part of town?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all!” I said. There is no way we are going to my part of town. Last thing I need is for her to want to come over and drop into my apartment. I hadn’t chick proofed it yet. I still had pictures of the ex up, in fact, I still had some clothes that my ex left, I had all kinds of remnants of the prior relationship scattered about. That would not have been good. Then I remembered that Kofa knew a Brazilian spot in Williamsburg. I called him up, got the details, and plotted the new rout. Destination: Bembe.

Bembe is a hot little spot that has the finest Brazilian ladies shaking it to their native sounds. The place is all vibe and culture, the drinks are cheap, and there is no cover. This was the move for the night.

We arrived at Bembe and walked in. People were dressed in Carnivale costumes because it was after all Halloween weekend. I wished I would have dressed up myself, but alas, my costume was not ready for it’s debut.

I walked up to the bar, ordered a jack on the rocks and got her an ice cold corona. We clinked glasses and began to drink. She was a little stiff but I could tell deep down inside she wanted to dance. I decided to loosen up the atmosphere and try to get her to dance…

“You know what I love about this place? People are just here to dance and have a good time, they don’t have a care in the world. Being around people like that makes you want to dance.”

“I don’t need to be around people to want to dance; I just always have it in me.” She said in her most monotone voice.

“So your telling me that as long as you want to dance that is all you need to actually get up on the dance floor? Like if no one is dancing, but you want to dance you will go and dance? You are not at all influenced by the vibe?”

“Yes, I dance when I feel it, I guess it is better when there are more people dancing, but I just dance when I feel it.”

“Are you feeling it?”

“I’m getting there.”

Just then some salsa came on. I don’t claim to know how to dance salsa, but I can fake it really well. I grabbed her and said “Let’s dance.”

She got closer to me, we assumed the position, and began a basic side step. Back and forth. I never seen someone more uncomfortable in their life. I pressed on. I finally realized that her idea of dancing was little more than a simple side step and the occasional white girl booty shake. You know the one where they crouch down, put their hands on their sides and gyrate their hips? The very same one you see Bambi doing with a pole between her butt cheeks at your local titty bar? Yes, that one. She eventually realizes that she isn’t feelin it and says: “You know, dancing is a very intimate thing for a second date. Maybe we should go for drinks.”


“BOO!” I thought. Too intimate for a second date? I’ve danced with women that I’ve never dated at all. I guess in Brazil it’s not really the forbidden dance. That shit is American made hype. In brazil it’s just called… Dance. It’s not like we were doing the Lambada, it was a simple side step. But fine, lets go to have drinks…


“Alright, where do you want to go now?

“Lets go back to your hood, I’m sure there are some cool places there. ”

“Well we have the beer garden which is great, but I’m not feeling beer tonight.”

“Ok, so lets go to that place we went to on the first date.”

“Ahh yes. Ok. Sure.”

Of course back to the scene of the crime. Was this going to be a repeat of the last date? How boring would that be?

So we get there, we order some more drinks, we sit in the same spot as before, and we start talking again.

The conversation this time is decidedly controlled by her. I kinda liked the fact that she was taking charge. Mostly because it just meant I could sit and drink and let her do all the work.

“So how long have you been living with your room mate?”

“Man I’ve known this guy forever.”

Notice how I didn’t answer her question? Jay calls that verbal sleight of hand. I answer a direct question by answering a different question. I didn’t lie, I just gave them some info that would allow them to use their own judgment and draw their own conclusions. I suppose if you catch me on it and ask the question again directly, I would answer directly, but I’ve yet to be called out on it.

“That’s cool, I’d like to meet him some time.”

That’s weird, but “yah cool. Next time you come by I’ll introduce.” (fatal mistake)

“Lets go there now! I’m bored of this place.” (result of fatal mistake)

“Nah see the apartment is a mess and I’m really quite embarrassed by it and plus he doesn’t know he’s doing a meet and greet tonight and well it’s just not a good idea, plus my neighborhood sucks.” I can’t believe I dissed my own beloved neighborhood. I love where I live, what was I doing?

“Why are you so against going to your place right now? What are you hiding?”

“Hiding? Nothing. It’s just a mess and I don’t want you to see it that way. You got to wait till its all nice. I want to impress you.”

“I don’t care about your apartment, I care about you.”

Did she just say what I thought she said? Is this not the second date? She care’s about me? She was being pretty aggressive and I wasn’t really into that at the moment. I was taken aback really by the speed at which this train was accelerating.

“Good things come to those who wait. Trust me, when it looks nice it will be much better. I will feel more comfortable.”

Did I just say ‘Good things come to those who wait?’ Was I starting to pretend to be smooth? Yuck. This is so not me. I’m totally trying to smooth talk my way out of this.

“Fine, nevermind.”

After a few more drinks and some ridiculous banter, it was time to head home. For some reason I wasn’t looking forward to the end-of-the-night make out session anymore. I had been turned off by something and I couldn’t quite place it. Was it the whole “I care about you” thing? Was it the pushiness? Was it that I had lost sight of my objective to just have fun and I accidentally tried to see if she was girlfriend material?

I decided to give myself a pep talk on the ride to her place. My internal dialogue went a little something like this:

“You got a 5’9” hottie sitting in your car, she wants you. You don’t care if she is girlfriend material, you just want to see what her undies look like. You want to make out with her and get a little touchy feely. Who knows what it might lead up to, you could very well be the man tonight. Don’t lose sight, the real thing is better than porn. You’re the man, man. You’re a rock star…”

Dumb as that sounded, it did the trick. I caught my second win and was ready for the kissing action. We pull up in front of her house, only this time I stay in the car. I wasn’t about to let the cold beat me. I lean in and the kissing begins.

Minute 5: Good introductory stuff. Kissing, necking, etc.
Minute 10: I am now cupping some boob. Kissing is still in full effect, the weird lean I have to do to kiss her may pose a problem later.
Minute 15: Sliding the hands down town. Heart is beating fast cause I can’t believe she is letting me do this. Neck is hurting a little. Re-adjusting position.
Minute 20: Lips are numb. Neck is sore. Hands made it down town but didn’t get to do much except for explore the fine quality of the denim jean seams. Excellent crotch join if I do say so myself.
Minute 25: How do I stop this thing?

I finally just said “Alright, I got to head out. I’ll see you later.”

She stepped out of the car and I drove away. I was a bit bummed. I was chasing that same high from the first date and I really wasn’t feeling the excitement this time. Kissing is getting boring, its time to move to the next step.

I began to plot out the next date. My plan was to bring her over to my place and finally introduce her to my inner sanctum.

‘I’m gonna get some booty.’ I thought. ‘Oh yes, I will get some.’

Stay tuned for the 3rd date. She comes over. I have the place to myself… the mood is right, I can see the booty comin, but first I have to answer one little question….

Date with Daniella 1 of 3

So after some cell text flirting, she quickly realizes that t9 typing sucks. I suggest for her to give me her screen name. She complies. I quickly add her to my buddy list and away I go.

I begin to chat with her and charm her with my online persona. We talk about art, we talk about science, we talk about philosophy. We talk about dating and things of that nature. Then we finally arrive at the prior convictions portion of the chat. She wanted my rap sheet.

DanielaXoXo: So tell me about your ex girlfriend.

This guy: um… well we broke up about 2 months ago.

DanielaXoXo: How long did you guys go out?

This guy: 4 years, but it was over before it was over, know what I mean?

DanielaXoXo: Why do you say that?

This guy: Well, the passion was gone, we were on autopilot, she was just strong enough to recognize and make the first move. Lets put it this way, the toughest part was acclimating to the change, not mending the broken heart.

DanielaXoXo: 4 years is a long time.

‘Oh shit I’m losing her’ I thought. I decided to wait it out and see if she would type more.

DanielaXoXo: But I suppose I can relate. The last guy I dated was 2 years ago, but he seemed to be a waste of time from the get go, so it wasn’t too bad when it was over.

This guy: ZACTLY how I feel.

I guess that wasn’t really true, but shit man, I need to at least get a date and maybe I can have her forget about this whole ex mess.

This guy: Well check it out, I got this thing in the city tonight till about 7:30, want to meet up for drinks afterwards?

DanielaXoXo: Sure.

How exciting. I landed a date. The first real date since my 4 year hiatus. I was nervous, but that’s not something Jack on the rocks couldn’t control. We agreed to a place, and I quickly signed off.

See the trick here was to be cool. I say it’s a trick because when I pull it off its magical. When I don’t its frickin embarrassing. I showered up, dug into the nice but not pretentious section of my closet, busted out some new shoes I had be harboring for a special occasion, and off I went to “my thing” in the city.

“My thing” was little more than a meeting with my cousin and ruthless dating mentor Jay. I called up Bailey and we all got together at a French restaurant in the upper west side. The idea was to discuss what was becoming a huge infatuation for me. Their goal was to knock some sense into me. My goal was to listen, disregard what they say, and do it my way anyway. But the moral support was still worth something to me.

Jay: “Listen, your problem is that any time you date someone you immediately try to figure out if she is someone you could marry. You need to shelf that shit. You need to just go, enjoy her company, and work your way into her undies.”

Jay is my lifelong best friend/cousin that just so happens to be a Lawyer. His advice is always interesting.

Bailey: “Dude, you have to accomplish your mission objective by the 3rd date.”

This guy: “What’s my objective Baily? To bed her on the third date? That’s too much pressure man.”

Bailey: “Affirmative, your objective is to penetrate the enemy territory, then pull out before feelings get involved.”

Jay: “Listen, keep a clear objective. She is not a girl you’re gonna marry, you’re just going to have fun. If you question yourself, put her on the shelf.”

This guy: “Thanks Johnny Cochran. Appreciate that.”

A few drinks and a meal later, I decide to head out on my first date. This is where god takes the wheel again and begins with his typical tom foolery.

Turns out the place that Daniela wanted to meet up in used to go by a different name. And when it used to go by a different name there was this girl that bartended there. And that girl was none other than my sweet Angelika. The very same place that I met Angelika was the very same place that Daniela wanted to meet for drinks.

God 1, This Guy 0.

So I get over it. I walk into the bar and there she is, tall and beautiful. I was a few minutes late, but whatever, the important thing was that I was there, and I was ready for some more drinks. I took her order and picked up the drinks at the bar. We headed over to a couch and began to “get to know eachother.”

We hit it off almost instantly. I mean there was a slow part in the beginning, but it quickly picked up. In person I can talk your ear off and I always have my bag of tricks. I got topics that are so perfectly selected that they can all segue into each other seamlessly. However, I started with the basics…

“So where are you originally from?”

“Italy” she said. This was another god prank. Angelika was Italian as well.

“Italy? Really? I would love to visit one day.” I figured this wasn’t the time to let her in on the few words Angelika taught me in Italian, so I moved on to the next question.

“So besides photography, do you do anything else?”

“Yeah, I’m a graphic designer. In fact I’m a designer before a photographer. That’s really my passion.”

This little god joke was getting ridiculous. Angelika was a graphic designer. I soon found out that they were also the same age. God can be a prick at times, but today he was seriously being an assface.

God 4, This Guy 0.

I shook it all off, and continued with my bag of tricks. We really dove into life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I had asked all the pertinent questions I needed to know. Then comes the sell.

I found myself catering to her personality traits. I wasn’t sacrificing my own personality, I was just highlighting those traits that I knew would appeal to her. I went on about how I find cheating impossible to do, how honesty is the best policy, and how knowing yourself is key to knowing what you want and what would work.

She slowly started dropping this expression of doubt that she had from the beginning and started changing it into this inquisitive “let me find out more about this kat” kinda look.

I knew this was a good sign. As the night proceeded and as I started knocking back more Jacks on the rocks, I loosened up. So did she, she was one drink behind me on the wine count. The hours melted away like minutes and the night rushed to a close.

“Do you have any smokes?” she asked.

“No, but we can go get some.”

We took a walk down to the bodega, grabbed some smokes and sat in my car to smoke them. I don’t typically smoke in my car, but shit man, It was fucken cold out.

I looked at her and was about to make a move to kiss her when she hit me with…

“You seem pretty drunk. You should probably crash at my place tonight.”

WHAMMY! I almost said “HELL YES!” but I quickly remembered what my little bro Julian once told me. My little brother is a womanizer like no other and he too wants to guide my development into being something I find incredibly hard to be.

Julian said:
“You got to keep them guessing. Sometimes I invite a chick over, and then I don’t to anything with them, I just go to sleep. They wake up the next day wondering what that was about and start calling you trying to figure shit out. They aren’t happy unless they think they understand you. Keep em guessing.”

Somehow in my drunken stupor those words translated to: “Go home and make her wonder why you didn’t sleep with her.”

So I told her that I would take her home and drop her off. We arrived in front of her house and she asked me to walk her to her door. I figured it was a good idea and walked her to her front stoop. I knew that a first kiss was imminent, so I prepped myself by standing on the first step. See, she was wearing heels and I’m not fond of looking up to kiss, so the first step was perfect.

I forgot how awkward it was to kiss someone for the first time. Externally I was calm, collected, and talking about some shit that was completely meaningless. Internally I was freaked out, trying to figure out when to go in for the kill, and recalling my nightmarish highschool first kiss. I begged god not to fuck this one up. God finally hooked me up.

“You know, the only thing more weird than the first kiss is talking about it.” Daniela explained.

‘But we weren’t talk…ing a…bout kiss…ing….oh I get it, this is my window of opportunity’ I thought. I looked up, smiled, then went in for the kill.

Can I just tell you we were kissing like high schoolers on the front stoop of her home. It must have gone on for 30 minutes. I was kissing with my eyes open because I wanted to make sure it was really happening. I was trying to take it all in. The cold eventually got to me and I had to cut it short. I looked at her, I smiled, and I hopped in my car and drove away. Externally I had the cool swagger of a 50’s hipster, internally I was auditioning for Cirque Du Soleil and backflipping all the way home. That shit was nutz.

Date one ended without a hitch. God won 4-1 but I was ok with it, because I got to kiss brand new lips for the first time in 4 years.

As I drove home I imagined all the possibilities and fantasized about what life with my new giant girlfriend would be like.

Little did I know that the next 2 dates would go on to serve as both a lesson in psychology and patience.

Stay Tuned for Date 2. Where suddenly, things start taking a turn for the worse...

The Rebound

My heart is not broken, but getting used to the change sucks. The hardest part about all this is that my best friend – slash – girlfriend, Angelika is no longer there to listen to me bitch about everyday things., no one is there to listen to my thoughts about seemingly insignificant things, and no one is certainly there to give me late night lovin. It really kinda sucks.

If I look at the bright side, things really don’t seem that bad. Like for example, I am now allowed to watch TV until I fall asleep, no more pretending to read “The Davinci Code” and having to remember to turn the page every 5 minutes. I can play video games now. I can eat real pasta, not the whole grain “good for you” shit she used to buy all the time. Did someone say white bread? Yup, no more whole wheat. And did I just wake up at 1PM on a Saturday morning without someone telling me I’m lazy? Can it be that it is Sunday morning and no one is vacuuming my room at 8AM? Yes. All these creature comforts are back, and oh yeah, I no longer have to get dressed in the dark, I can turn the lights on in the morning and take advantage of the entire closet that is now mine… all mine. Funny how all these little things really do make you feel complete again.

So what is left to reclaim? My mojo. I have to dust this puppy off and take it for a spin because he’s been in hiding for the last 4 years. I’m not sure what I’m capable of anymore, its time to call in the rebounders.

Rebounders serve a great purpose in life. They give you companionship, they let you practice your mojo skills, they keep you keen and cunning, they give you a little of that much needed drama, they help you get over your last chick, and most importantly they give you that late night booty you’ve been askin for. Once a week is better than none at all. Right? (Did I just try to convince you that I can get it once a week? I have trouble believing that myself.)

So, here begins my dating journey. I have a lot to catch you guys up on, but lets start at the beginning. Angelika and I broke up a few months ago. A month went by without a date and without any interest in dating. Slowly but surely the finest internet harvests were wearing out and porn no longer seemed like an option. It was time to start dating again.

“Mission Objective is to get you out of the house. At approximately 1900 hours there is a gallery opening. I expect you to be there.” Said Bailey, my ex military friend. He hasn’t quite reintegrated into society so talking like a civilian is nearly impossible for him.

“Nah man, I’m just gonna chill at home tonight, ‘Lost’ is on and I got to be up crazy early tomorrow, I think I’ll pass. But don’t take me off your invite list.”

“Negative. You will be there at 1900.”

“Bailey, you really have no idea what it’s like to work 5 days a week do you?”

“Do you know that 1900 hours is 7PM in civilian time?”

“Oh… sounded much later than that. Fine I’ll go; I’ll meet you at your place at 1800 hours.” I said feeling like a complete moron.

“Copy that.”

I dressed in my fresh new gear, hopped in the car, and headed over to Bailey’s. I picked him up and we were soon on our way to the opening. The promise of the typical free booze you find at these events got me kind of amped about it and I was really now starting to look forward to it.

We arrived and just as expected, the wine table was set up and ready to take my order. I grabbed the Pinot Grigio and began to peruse the art. Bailey, who is now a college freshmen in his mid 20’s, was quickly snapped up by his new found college friends. That was fine by me because I had my pinot and some really amazing photographs to study.

I came upon a photograph that caught my attention. I was frozen by the beauty in this photo and could have stared at it for hours studying the beautiful lines and movement of the photo. It was a black and white picture of a woman. Her face was cropped out and she was off center, but in doing so it left just the right amount up to the imagination. It was stunning. As I stared for what must have been days, I was approached by this girl.

“That’s a picture of me” She said.

“Really? I was wondering what the rest of your face looked like.”

“Yeah most people wouldn’t be able to guess that it was me, but it is. I took that photo like 3 years ago. The original was ok, but once I cropped it and added sepia tones to it, it almost came to life. “

“Well I am captivated by it. I could really just stare at it for hours. What’s your name?”

“Daniela, yours?”

We exchanged names and made small talk. I couldn’t help but notice how effing tall she was. Approximately my height, but with heels on she was a statue. Exotic features, tall and thin, she was really becoming quite appealing.

“Well I feel honored to have met the mind behind this photo; can I take a picture with you?” I said busting out some rusty moves and feeling corny as shit.

“Sure.”

I whipped out my trusty camera phone, put my arm around her, and snapped away.

“What’s your number, I’ll send it to your phone.”

My heart raced for 3 seconds as I awaited her response. ‘There was no way that this move could still work.’ Low and behold she recited her digits as if she was waiting for me to ask since the beginning of time. I quickly pounded them into my phone, sent her the picture, and continued on with the convo.

“Cool, well you just showed me your great work and I just showed you mine. I got to run, but let me know when you have another opening, you got my number on your phone.”

I practically clicked my heels as I walked over to Bailey. My heart was racing, my adrenaline was pumping, I was feelin good. A rebound was born. A tall sexy, 20 something, exotic princess. I had her number, now If I could just find a way to get her email address or Instant Messenger screen name I would be in. See I am no good on the phone, but if I can write to you, I will surely win you over with my personality.

I have absolutely no game. I must admit, I’m a good looking guy, but I’m also a nice guy, so running game is particularly hard for me. I have no game. I think women just kinda feel sorry for me because I’m such a moron when it comes to meet and greets, that they find it kind of refreshing from the daily “Hey baby’s,” “Whatcha doins?” and “Excuse me miss’s” they always get.

The Plan, text her and get her Instant Messenger screen name.

I did, and I got it. I was on my way.

The first 3 dates have already happened... stay tuned for the details...

Next: Date 1.

A new beginning:

Well here’s the deal…
I’m a professional in my mid 20’s. I have a nice place in a great location. I have a nice car. I had the best girlfriend in the world. My life was perfect. I won the game of life.

God is a contentious asshole. I say that because one day he decided to fill my girlfriends head with idea’s of a new life. He made it brutally clear that there was no passion in our relationship and that life can be much better than this (what a dickhead move). He slowly created what was to become my girls first quarterlife crisis.

“Go out and live on your own for once.” He said.

See up until she met me she had never lived on her own.

“Go and decorate your very own apartment, taste life a little.” He said.

What he didn’t tell her was that she would have to pay rent, pay utilities, buy her own food, take the train to work, and oh yeah, start dating again. See god is a little bastardo that way.

So she did it. After 4 years, my picture perfect girlfriend went off to ex-girlfirend land. I was hurt. Good thing is that there was no major fight that did us in, it was just 2 mature adults parting ways.

Surprisingly the break up was the easiest break up of my life. I suppose when there is no guilt involved, you just kinda tell yourself “Ok, time to move on.” And you do it.

The first few nights were tough and I missed her heaps, but shortly after the self pity sessions I would find myself manically getting excited about what life has to offer. Being a serial monogamist was my modus operandi and alas it was time for a change. I began looking forward to my new life as this single guy meeting new personalities and getting to know them, or as I like to say, sleeping with them.

This blog will chronicle the dating misadventures I run into as I begin the healing process and begin to reassemble my life.