Lillian Part 2: The Fix Up

Fresh off my flight and back into work. I open my email to find an email from the lovely Velma. Her emails are in Red, my responses are in Blue, my commentary is in Black. I am in the back end of my 20’s and yes, we still play stupid games reminiscent of our high school years. The game begins with this simple email. See how I play it. Would you have done it any differently? This is an actual email correspondence. Her initial email follows:

Hey Guy!

How's it going? How was your flight back? How’s your “friend?”
Well I just wanted to know how you were doing and to let you know I had a nice talk with you on the plane and I hope we will get to talk more. If you’re flying next month, I fly the 14th and the 20th of August. So maybe I'll see you.

One other thing, you know I am a Flight Attendant I have a lot of Flight Attendant friends (hot ones too) if you ever want to meet them we usually go out on weekends and we never really know where to go, but you seem to know about a lot of places. When we plan to go out one of these days I'll let you know if you want to join us.
Talk to you soon,

Velma

I seen this before. I knew what she was up to. I had a secret admirer, and she was going to play match maker. I respond:

Hey girl,
Ah, it’s going well now that I am back to work. The flight back was restful, but not nearly as fun as the flight there. You make a great travel partner and if I fly, I will certainly go on one of your flights. My “friend” is cool, I got to crash at her place during this awful black out, but no lines were ever crossed, just intense cuddling. I suppose that will have to do for now.
So you got hot flight attendant friends do ya? Well I certainly wouldn’t be averse to hanging out with some of these lovelies you speak of. Well considering I don’t really know most of them, let alone who is single, meeting any one of them would be cool. Please do keep me in mind the next time you guys all hang out. I’ll need your help though; I am no good at telling when a chick digs me.

Jesus, reading this back I see just how stupid I sound, but remember it’s all a game.

I can talk to her and she can be throwing signals and I would never know because I just don’t assume they do.

How unassuming of me.

It’s very rare that I can pick up on it. When you told me Tanya thought I was cute (which by the way I’m curious as to how you found out), even though she’s not really my type, I found it kind of shocking.

Tanya is a flight attendant that most find very attractive and she has this heir of arrogance about her. Like I said, she’s not my type, but I dig the fact that she digs me, simply because so many of my co-workers are in love with her, and I get to dismiss her. Power trip… I know.

I would never have guessed. So with your help… who knows? So yeah, put me on the invite list and let’s hang. Besides that though, if you are ever in town and feel like grabbing a bite or just layin low and chillin at some spot, call me, I always got something going on and I’m sure you would dig it. You’re cool people.

-This Guy

It’s her move. I told her I was interested in checking out these flight attendants. I set it up so that she has to outright tell me who digs me because I am too “stupid” to figure it out, and I have her as a buffer between me and any potential flying monstrosities.
She responds:

Hey Guy,
So you haven't made a move on your “friend?” You’re in a bed with a girl you have feelings for, and nothing? Not even kissing? Isn't that hard for you? Not that everything is about… you know. But not even kissing?? hmm..thats kind of hard to believe I guess. well good luck on that.

That made me think a little bit more about it…but whatever, not important right now.

My F/A friends are in fact single and very attractive. I know you met Lillian the Dominican F/A what did you think about her? She's single you know. She's very spunky and a little crazy. she'll keep you on your toes. Then there is Olivia she is Korean and Italian she's hot but she's 21. - You can check them out on my space. Search for Lillian Daiz and you will see some pics of us. In her home page, in Lillian’s friend section you will see Olivia. Tell me what you think and I'll work my magic.

Tanya asked me if I knew you because you looked familiar and she just said you were cute. And she is right you are attractive and to top it off your smart that's a very good combination. So I'm pretty sure you'll meet some nice F/A's I'll make sure of that. Hey are you going to the picnic? That's a perfect opportunity to work your charm..

We had a company picnic coming up, a lot of F/A’s were going to be there, somehow the idea made me uncomfortable.

I hope I'll see you on one of my flights and hopefully you'll stay longer so we can hang out.
Do you dance? I haven't danced in god knows how long any thing cool places this weekend I can bring Olivia she really wants to go to a Salsa club any recommendation?

Well I'm glad I'm good peoples (here) But deff. I would love to talk to you more and hang out I feel I can tell you allot.

-Velma

Alright, so she gassed my ego. Now I know that Lillian, Olivia, and Tanya as well as Velma herself think I am cute. I know that Lillian and Olivia dig me and that’s where my chances lie. She was building me up and making me feel like a king and of course, my ego enjoyed every second of it. Unfortunately this would be my unraveling and you will understand why a bit later. I had to play it cool. I had to play up to my part. I respond:

No, I never made a move on my “friend.” I know, I know, it is hard to be in a bed with a chick that you dig, and you do nothing. I mean the closest we got to doing anything was the night we got drunk on absinthe and fell asleep together, she kissed my neck a few times and it was really sensual, but nothing happened.

I remember Lillian from a little while back in a hotel room party with entirely too much estrogen. 3 girls and me. They had me blushing every 2 minutes. They were a fun bunch of girls though. Olivia is also very pretty, but I would imagine that I’d have a lot less in common with her because of her age. Either way. Feel free to work your magic, I’m always open to meeting new hotties, even if just to hang out and share some laughs with.

This Guy life discovery # 251: hanging out with pretty girls attracts other pretty girls for some reason.

Attractive and smart huh? I don’t think I’m unattractive, however I still find it surprising when girls like you and Tanya say I am. As for smart? I can dig that. I suppose you can’t really be a dummy and do what I do. I think I am going to the picnic, you going? I’ll be counting on you to help me out. Charm… heh. Ok.

Inflating her ego and using myself as the mechanism to do so. Brilliant. I don’t think it gets more self centered than that. It’s my way or reciprocating.

Do I dance? The answer is yes definitely. Let me know what you guys decide to do. This weekend might be hectic, but who knows.

-this guy

Alright, it looks like we are zero’ing in on Lillian. This is going well. She responds:

So what do you think about Lillian? She is very cute, don't you think? I think you guys would have alot to talk about. What exactly are you looking for? Tell me more. There are about 70 F/A's and not including the new "hot" class.

Well I'll see what these girls want to do this weekend. Most of them are flying for a charter and others will be working,but Olivia and her cousin (which by the way is gorgeous, she's in F/A training) might go out so I'll see whatsup.

-Velma ;o)

Ok, so she is clearly playing match maker. She put Lillian out there, now she wants to find out what I think of her before she hooks us up. I take the bait.

Lillian is really cute, but I’m never quick to judge. I just don’t know her. We all hung out, we all made jokes, it was a good time, but who knows, I get a hard read on her. I’m not sure what exactly I’m looking for. To be honest, I’m really laid back now. I used to always approach every chick like she could potentially be the next one, but that’s just not the way to do it. It’s too stressful, too much pressure. I don’t like to try to lead a relationship into what I want it to be, I’m more about letting it become what I will. In some cases it’s a friendship, in some it’s more than friends, and in other cases it can sneak up on you and become the next love of your life. So I know it doesn’t really answer your question, but I guess, what I’m looking for is someone I can kick it with and see where it goes from there. Although while I’m looking for that I could really use some booty right now. It’s been too long. Sadly… too long.

Oh shut up, don’t judge me. I can say what I want to say. In my opinion, and we all have a right to an opinion, I feel it has been too long. Go jump in a lake.

-This Guy

Ok, so in theory, the match should be made. I found out Lillian digs me, she should have found out that I dig her, next move should be a love connection. Velma responds:

Lillian's number is 718-555-9128 (sorry can’t give you the real number)

So call her up and see what goes from there!! Trust me.

-Velma

And there you have it. The game. It’s all so high school, yet we still play it. I know it too well and I figured this would be the outcome. That’s why I set up a bazillion back doors for myself just in case I meet her and find her annoying or intolerable. I never defined what I am looking for and I never promised I’d be boyfriend of the year. All I can guarantee is that I’ll meet her and if all is cool, we can “kick it” which is a buzz word that means nothing, promises nothing, and adheres to nothing. I’m a bit jaded I suppose. I got her number. It’s time to call. Lillian is very cute and she is latina. One dish I’ve yet to try. This is ground breaking for me.

Check back soon for the Lillian dates. If you remember my first few dates, then you’ll want to read this one. Things aren’t always what they seem and I get to find out exactly how. There is trouble on the horizon…mind numbing trouble. Stay tuned.

Lillian Part 1: Backstory

After my trip to Los Angeles, I settled back into work. I had a lot of projects to take care of and I really needed to focus. No girls, just work. At least that is what I told myself when in fact all I was really doing was trying to reclaim my dignity from clutches of a bi-coastal booty call. I figured I would step out of the spot light for a minute and get back to my roots.

I’ve always been very proud of what I do and I consider my job priority number one, but I almost felt as if I was losing myself in skirt chasing and I needed to get back to who I was.

So let’s talk about little bit about who I am. So far you’ve been able to deduce a bit about me based upon my inability to function like a normal human being around women. You might think I’m a bit quirky and misguided. You might feel as if I am self defeating and karmically cursed. You might think I am a bit picky or a little shallow. Well you might be right about all those things. Truth is I can only tell you who I think I am. It seems however that every time I think I know who I am, I surprise myself and discover something new about me. I think some people call that evolution. I call it a grand fucking confusion.

Anyhow, if you’ve read this far it is only fair for me to reveal a little about myself. After all, if you read this far, you probably discovered something about yourself and well… like I said, it’s only fair.

I’m an honest good guy. My mind races when I need to make a decision and I always try to make the right one. I believe in karma and the golden rule. I care about the people I meet and make an effort to keep the good people in my life around me. Music is my soul and I use it as an escape. When I hang out, I like to make sure everyone is having a good time. I am too accommodating at times. I don’t know how to say “no” and it can make me somewhat irresponsible when it come to managing my finances. New experiences are always worth it to me, my credit card hates that. I am a hard worker, my job is my livelihood. Fundamentally, I think that’s who I am.

I am an Enterprise Architect for an airline and we are doing pretty well. My work requires that I travel a lot to manage vendors and accounts at various airports. As an enterprise architect I have to cover the growth and development of my network systems. Why am I telling you this? Because this brings us to the next story. One that almost all of us guys dream about from very young.

Jay and I have a system of merit badges if you will. When any one of us does something extraordinary in our love lives, we earn a merit badge. Merit badges describe the kind of girl and stars describe how many different girls. For example, up until this point in my life I had:

Bartender Merit badge with 2 stars
Millionaire Heiress Badge
Kiss Ex’s Best Friend Badge
One Night Stand Badge
Ballerina/Super Limber Chick Badge
Co-Worker Badge

And a few other dodgy badges we won’t mention here.

I was about to earn another badge thanks to my line of work. The elusive, Flight Attendant Badge.

I travel to Berlin often. More often than I care to admit. Where I once found it fun and exciting, I now find it terribly arduous. Where I used to make a point of staying the night in the city and getting shitty with the locals, I now make every effort to catch the very next flight home, even if it’s the same day I arrive. I absolutely despise traveling there to work. Vacation is alright, work is a bloody nightmare. Fortunately I have the luxury of traveling first class on my airline so the travel isn’t as bad as it can be. The food is good, the booze never stops flowing. Nuff said.

Being a regular traveler, I have gotten to know our flight attendants over time. All of them got their start at head quarters and all of them got to listen to my I.T. speech during their orientation. We have had so many flight attendants pass through those doors that it is simply not possible for me to remember most of them, but I did manage to make a few friends. Friends that would introduce me to others.

Flight attendants in our airline have the option of working at headquarters assisting other departments and if they play their cards right, they can land a permanent gig at head quarters doing something other that flight attending. Most find after a few weeks that they would rather be flight attending than coming into work 5 whole days a week and working 8 whole hours a day. They are mostly brain dead. It’s not their fault.

Velma was a flight attendant that was doing a stint at head quarters in the marketing department. She caught me one day in the lunch lounge and started talking to me. She remembered me from the orientation. We got to talking and I soon found out she was a pretty cool chick. She would come around my office and hang out and gossip with the rest of us over in I.T. She always had us caught up on everyone’s business. Eventually she decided (like they all do) that working at head quarters was not for her and she returned to the friendly skies.

Well on one of my night flights over to Berlin, I found that Velma was working my section. It had been months since I last saw her and it was good to see her. She poured me a drink and told me she would come back later during the night after everyone has fallen asleep.

If I stop here, you would all draw the completely wrong conclusion. So I wont. Let’s continue.

Late that night Velma came back to my section and we began to talk. She was very attentive with my drinks and made sure that my glass was never empty. We talked about all kinds of things, but more importantly, we talked about her boyfriend. She was having all kinds of issues and problems and I was happy to help her sort them out. Now if you are thinking that I am into Velma you are wrong. I am not. While she is pretty, she is not my type. However, I am laying the charm on awfully thick and the reason for that is that Velma knows all the other flight attendants. When we used to gossip she used to give me the low down on all of them, so I knew she was well connected. In talking to her about her man she got to see that I was a good guy, sentimental, yet strong minded and intelligent and all that other blah blah blah shit that they go for. I was pretty drunk and at this point I was just painting myself as the world’s most eligible bachelor. This was all gossip that she could bring back to her friends.

Our flight was due to arrive early in the morning. Usually on flights like that I land, take a nap in my hotel, and then go to my meetings. It’s the only way I know how to work the jet lag. Velma told me she would be taking a nap then asked me if I would like to meet her for dinner later that night at the hotel. I agreed and so the plans went forth.

We met up for dinner talked some more and became even better friends. It wasn’t long before she started talking about the other flight attendants.

“See you really are a good guy, I know an F.A. that would be perfect for you.”

F.A. is how they refer to themselves… I believe it means Flight Attendant… yes… yes, I think so.

“Oh yeah? I’m a good guy huh? To some yes, to others, I may not seem so.”

That is my “humble” move. I use that move to make them believe that I am capable of determining my own flaws.

“Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Well, to be honest my girlfriend and I broke up about 8 months ago and I just haven’t found anyone I’m interested in yet.”

“Why did you guys break up?”

She took the bait. This is the part where she gets to figure out that I am one of those dudes that you accidentally stumble upon and are so lucky to have done so. Like a dude who is so super perfect and is only single because his wife died. That's like winning the lottery to women 27 and older. (Being humble is my best quality.)

“Well when I first took this job it was very demanding and I was working a ton of hours. I was constantly breaking plans and dates and vacations with her because this job had me by my throat and it was going to remain that way until opening day. Our sex life took a hit because I was always so exhausted and eventually she just got tired of it. She didn’t realize that I was working this hard for us and she couldn’t wait till I crossed that finish line. Well the last thing I wanted was a girl that couldn’t roll through the tough times, so it was best for us to go our own ways. We are still friends.” I said while looking into her eyes and shooting innocent half smiles her way.

Basically what I told her was that while I should be engaged with a beautiful eastern European goddess, I found out that she was lame and I left in search for someone that can appreciate my hard work. Lucky for her she found me. Lucky for me she is taken. Lucky for me she is an honest chick.

“She’s stupid. Look at you, you have a great job, you’re laid back, good looking, smart, I would have waited.” She said looking deep into my eyes almost making me uncomfortable.

That ego stroke felt good, especially after losing my pride to a bi-coastal booty call with Daisy. I needed that.

“Yeah well she didn’t and that’s ok. Everything happens for a reason. Plus I’m having a really good time in my life right now. I meet a ton of interesting people and I live life by my rules. I dig it. I don’t know if I am ready to get into the next big relationship to be honest, life is just too much fun right now.”

“See I kinda feel like you do. I wonder if I wasn’t with my man if I would be having more fun or doing cooler things, but then I think about being alone and it bugs me out. I don’t like it. I’m not good at being single, I prefer to have someone.”

“It’s not for everyone.”

“So you’re not dating anyone or you’re not interested in anyone?”

“I’m not dating anyone, no. But I find myself oddly attracted to a friend of mine, still trying to wrestle with it.” I said with a look of confusion. Did I just make a revelation to myself? Funny how vocalizing something can galvanize it.

“How long have you known her?”

“I’ve known her for years, but only this year did we really start becoming close friends. She’s dope, but there are way too many complications and to be honest it’s just not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“She’s too good a friend. I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

“See what I mean? Most guys wouldn’t care and would fuck up a friendship just to get ass.”

“Well I believe guys can be friends with girls, platonically.”

“I usually have a problem being friends with guy’s cause they usually end up wanting something more.”

“Well fear not, you got a friend in me. Nothing more.”

And like that she was charmed. I wasn’t lying about anything, I was being honest, and when girls take the time to get to know that side of me they see that I actually am a decent dude trying to do the right thing. We continued on for a while and we really dug into each others lives. I got to find out all her dirty little secrets, and she got to peer into my life. I wasn’t interested in her and she knew that. I wasn’t interested in a relationship and she knew that. Yet, somehow I felt as if she was attracted to me. The way she looked at me, laughed with me, and her body language. If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought she was mentally undressing me. I almost felt like a piece of meat (and I liked it). She and I have one thing in common though, we aren’t cheaters. She had a man so she did the next best thing. She passed me on to the other FA’s.


National Geographic can do a wild life documentary on Flight Attendants. They are just like a bunch of lioness’s looking for their alpha male. Usually the alpha male comes in the form of a pilot and if a flight attendant lands a pilot, you will see the rest of the flight attendants fall in line behind her. It’s really quite bizarre. They are very special personality types. They like being alone and traveling in the same circles. When they are away, they party like crazy and throw parties in their hotel rooms with other flight attendants. There is no honor in this world. As your host of Sux in the City’s “Wild America”, I felt the need to penetrate this subculture and discover what they were about, Velma was my key into their world.

The next day I flew home and went to work as usual. It was a normal day, everything was going well. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Then I receive an email from Velma…

Next up is our actual email correspondence where she tells me a little flight attendant secret. One that involves me.

Los Angeles Part 3 of 3: Daisy

Daisy, fresh off a night of boozing, was awake and ready to seize the day with party planning and event coordinating. I, fresh off a night of boozing, was ready to beat the hang over with a friend at a local bar. I took off for a couple of hours as the girls did their thing.

I usually find that when it comes to doing the party thing, it’s better to stay out of their way, plus I didn’t want to be tasked with the job of hanging balloons or running streamers. Luckily my friend Mark (remember him from New Years?) lived in LA and it was a perfect opportunity to catch up with an old friend.

Mark and I went to high school together and we both managed to leave the tiny town we grew up in for the exciting life of big city. For a while he went to film school in NYU but eventually made his way to work for the truly bizarre people of Hollywood. Seeing him was a great time because he has the best stories as you probably could have imagined. Needless to say I spent a good couple of hours with him while the party was being set up.

I eventually made my way back to Daisy’s place a little tipsy from the beer Mark and I shared. When I arrived I was more than happy to see that the pre-party barbecue had begun. More beer… and now some food.

Los Angeles barbecues are not normal. Not at all. See everyone in LA is a vegetarian. EVERYONE. Even if you aren't you are. Their favorite meat is Tofu. Their favorite vegetable is Soy. Their favorite drink is soy milk or bottled water. I, enthusiastically, pushed all that shit aside and went straight for the beef filet that Daisy had been so thoughtful in supplying. I ate my filet and mesclun greens salad with water and soy chips, burped air, and retreated to my room to grab some clothes and shower up for the night. There was an 80’s theme to the night, but I didn’t play along, partly because I didn’t have any gear, but mostly because I wasn’t gay. I digress…

Freshly showered I find myself in Daisy’s room getting changed when she walks in.

Daisy: “Oh sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

This Guy: “Uh huh.”

Daisy: “Don’t flatta yourself dah-ling.”

She likes to talk in old Hollywood glamour accents at time. She is a character in her own mind.

This Guy: “So can I change in peace or what?”

Daisy: “It’s not like I don’t know what you look like naked. Shit you saw me naked this morning.”

This Guy: “True story.” I said with a smile.

Daisy: “Hey maybe you can help me out.”

This Guy: “Ok?”

Daisy: “I don’t know if I should wear the tight jeans with the 80’s top or the white jeans with the black top and my hooker heels.”

This Guy: “I don’t know. Try them on.”

She strips, I pretend to look away, she puts on her first outfit.

This Guy: “That looks hot.”

Daisy: “Ooh, and you have to see it with the wig, hang on…”

She puts on this 80’s punk rocker wig. She looked 80’s punk rocker hot.

This Guy: “Damn Dais, you look fuckin hot.”

Daisy: “Thank you thank you… but now you have to see the other one.”

This Guy: “By all means, please disrobe and show me the other one… I’m patient.”

Daisy: "ha ha."

It’s true, she was so visually appealing in her costume and make up that I almost forgot that there was a psycho jealous mental patient underneath all that.

She changes into her new outfit and surprisingly looks even hotter. I am not a subscriber to the hot white pants common male fantasy, but this time it was pretty fuckin fantastic. These pants were super tight, super white, and well tailored. Her top was a black loose cocktail type thing (forgive me for not knowing the proper terminology for female attire) with sparkles. She had her wig on and her make up in full on hooker mode. This was the definition of 80’s heroin chic.

Daisy: “Ok what do you think of this?”

This Guy: “Um…wow… sexy. I think I like this one better.”

Daisy: “You think so?”

This Guy: “Um, I mean, I suppose if I was approached by you in this outfit I would find it hard to say no. In the other outfit I might be able to, dig?”

That’s a little something we in the male world call “planting the seed.”

Daisy: “Ha, well that’s good to know.”

She settled on that outfit and off she went to continue preparing. I dressed up in some cargo’s, a t-shirt, and a military cap. It was my way of letting them know I was from New York. Trust me, when you are over there, you don’t want them to mistake you for one of them.

I make my way into the living room and sit at a round table. The same table I found myself sitting in the night before at the ever so exciting game of trivial pursuit. Sandra who is not a drinker, sat next to me. There we sat watching the people slowing trickle into this party. As the flow of people increased, she and I spent a great deal of time making fun of the newly arrived. There were all types of weirdo’s there. The more we joked around though, the closer she seemed to sit next to me. I had her crackin up by virtue of ruthless insults thrown at innocent bystanders. Surely I was connecting with the ruthless devil in her.

Before I knew it the place was pretty packed. As I was drinking, I loosened up a bit and began having mini conversations with her.

“So Sandra, these are the types of people you want to surround yourself with?”

“Ugh, ah know right? Whatevs, ah jus waunt to act, ya know?”

Her accent sounded like Southern Belle meets Valley Girl.

“But these people blow.” I said under my breath.

“Ah know. But what kin ya do?”

“I would just feel way out of place in this environment. But what the fuck do I care, I’m never moving to LA. If I was in the biz, I would stay in New York.”

“Ah used to live there, hated it.”

“WHOA! Slow down. It’s impossible to hate New York.”

“It’s just too busy. Ah like the mountains and trees and beaches here. That’s what I love about this place. Ah could do without the people though.”

“I can dig it.”

“So how do you know Daisy?” She asked almost genuinely inquisitively.

“You’re telling me you don’t know the story?”

“Well ah guess ah know you 2 dated, but thats all ah know. You two still…?” She asked with a raised brow and a smirk on her face.

“Nooooo! No no no no. We’re just friends.”

“See ah wish ah could be that way with mah exes, but they’re just too fuckin stupid to be able to handle a relationship like that.”

“Ahhh, well see, I’ve mastered the art of being friends with ex.’s.”

“How do you do it?”

“Respect.”

Yes, I know. That was the obvious answer and I took it. She’s 23 and impressionable and for some reason I found myself trying to say the right things. Trying to attract her if you will. I continue…

“See, I don’t lie, I don’t cheat. When we break up I don’t go psycho. In fact, my ex Angelika (wow, it’s been a long time since we heard that name…) and I broke up almost a year ago and we are becoming good friends. We still talk, we do dinner every now and then, it’s just about being civil, making peace with the situation and acknowledging that she was and is a good person regardless of her current relationship with me.”

“Ah respect that.” She said in an almost holier than though way. Almost as if she was smarter than me and just treated me to the honor of being respected by her. Anyhow, she kept on.

Women are always trying to guage their audience. In this case, Sandra was trying to get a feel for me and see if she could figure out what i thought of her. She tries to set up me up…

“Ah wish there were more guys out there like you, you know? Like, WTF the guys ah meet are like cave men. Guys just don’t know how far maturity goes.”

I'm to smart for that, I strategically respond and set a trap to guage her.

“Listen, they are out there, the mature ones I mean, just keep your eyes peeled. You’re sitting next to one right now.”

She takes the bait and gets snared in her own tongue…

“Yeah but like all good guys, you’re off limits.” She said while laughing.

WHAMMY! She laughed to distract me from the fact that she just admitted that I was someone she wouldn’t mind pursuing. I’m much too smart for young games like that, now she just gave up her position and some could say I have the upper hand. This is where the story can turn ugly, but you guys know full well, that I’m not one to take advantage of situations like this. I took the ego boost for what it was worth, and played it off.

“Hey who told you I was a good guy? I’ll kill him. I got a reputation to uphold.”

She laughed even more and placed her hand on top of mine under the table ever so naturally. I was impressed with how smooth she pulled it off. She just re-wrote the classic stretch-then-put-your-arm-around move we so fondly remember in movie theaters.

Just then, this super tool shows up at the table with 2 of his boys. Buncha dooshbag lookin dudes. Sandra sat upright removing her hand from over mine and I reached for a drink.

Dooshy 1:“You mind if we sit here?” asked the captain of the league of ordinary men.

This guy: “Please do.”

The 3 dooshy’s sat down and immediately begin to banter among themselves. Sandra and I are listening trying to see if we could make conversation with out new table buddies.

Dooshy 1: “Oh man, what a crazy night huh?”

Dooshy 2: “Yeah well, you deal with that kind of thing often.”

Dooshy 1: “Unfortunately yes.”

Dooshy 3: “So they are always like that?”

These guys were clearly trying to suck us into their gay conversation, but I kept quiet, pretending to be uninterested. Sandra just kinda looked past them at the building crowd in the living room.

Dooshy 1: “Yeah, you know how animators are.”

Dooshy 3: “Well, you know the Simpson’s isn’t exactly a low stress environment.”

Dooshy 1: “I know, and that’s why I sympathize with them, but you can’t give them everything they ask for, it’ll just get out of hand. You have to draw the line somewhere.”

When you’re having an industry party, industry people show up. They bring their own little entourages and try to network. The name of the game is to sound better than anyone else in the room. They were begging for us to ask them, I decided it would be more fun to talk about it with them than just listen.

This guy: “So what exactly do you do man? Sorry for interrupting.”

Dooshy 1: “Oh its ok. I work for an animation studio. The studio that produces the Simpson’s among other network cartoon shows.”

This guy: “Oh yeah? The artists being a pain in the ass?’

Dooshy 1: “Yeah, they are just a demanding bunch of people. In some respects I get it, but on the other hand they are asking for a lot and it’s just not supportive of our business model.”

This guy: “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

Dooshy 1: “Dave, yours?”

This guy: “I’m this guy.”

It was almost as if he thought I would never ask his name. These guys have their networking skills sharpened and refined and you could tell by the way he carried the conversation. His 2 other dooshy friends did their job in setting up the communication, they sat quietly while the grown men spoke.

Dave: “So what do you do?”

This Guy: “I’m a director for a start up company out of New York.”

There were clearly more details in there but you're not interested in that... Plus, it would ruin the big reveal at the end of this blog when I finally end up with “the one” [which I’m beginning to think is the wrong way to approach this blog, but anyhow…].

Dave: “Oh awesome, well everyone needs someone like you in their company. Your department is so necessary for business continuity and operations; I take my hat off to you.”

Wow, getting my ass kissed for no reason, this must be standard practice, I think I’m supposed to kiss his ass back.

This guy: “Thanks man. It’s a lot of fun. Lot’s of room to grow and no glass ceiling you know? I am poised for major growth with the company, so that’s exciting. What about you? You where you want to be? You on the path to where you want to end up?”

Dooshy 2: “I don’t think you can go any higher can you?” asked his retarded little minion.

Dave: “Heh, well not really. I am the COO [Chief operating officer] for this company. No where else to go really.”

Here’s where I get to lead him down the road of humiliation.

This guy: “Wow, a young dude like you already at the top of your game. Nothing to aspire to, cause you are there already. How old are you?”

Dave: “32.”

This guy: “And did you live here all your life or you from out of state like everyone else in this room?”

Dave: “Well, I was actually born in New Jersey.”

Oh man, he made this too easy. Jersey! That material writes itstelf. I get his confidence, praise him a little, now I get to make fun of him to his face.

This guy: “No way, seriously? That’s too bad.”

Dave: “Hey now, not all of Jersey’s ghetto you know.”

This guy: “Why do all Jersey people say that?” I asked looking at Sandra.

Dave: “I can probably get into the city quicker than you can from where I lived in Jersey.”

This guy: “They all say that too. Yet I still have no desire to live in Jersey. It’s gross.”

Dave: “Gross?”

This guy: “Yes, Jersey has Aids.”

Just then Sandra spits her drink clear across the table right onto Jersey Dave. She let out a thunderous cackle! I started cracking up.

Sandra: “What do you mean Jersey has Aids?”

This guy: “I mean, it has Aids. Listen, I know it’s a sensitive subject, but you’re playing with fire every time you enter New Jersey without protection.”

Sandra: “You are so wrong.” She said still laughing.

Dave: “Well it can’t be that bad if someone like me can leave Jersey and make it as far as I have.”

This guy: “I know I know. It just sucks cause you strive to be the best you can be, and at age 32 you become a COO for an animation studio, and I think you're cool, but at the end of the day, you’re still from New Jersey. There is no cure for Jersey. It must suck feeling you will always be limited by that factor. By the way, Where is Jersey again?”

Dave: “Hey now… that’s cutting deep.” He said with a nervous laugh.

This guy: “I’m kidding man, have a drink. Jersey isn't that nausiatingly disgusting. It's a state too just like all the rest. I should treat it like the rest of the states."

I deflated his ego rather quickly. His communication and networking skills had no answer to what just happened. He realised that I didn't care to know about his job or what he could do for me, I just wanted to laugh at him. He reacted the only way he knew how. He gave me his business card, and left the table with his 2 monkeys.

Sandra seemed to love how crude I was being to the poor dude. She kept commenting about how she couldn’t believe what I was saying and how funny it was. She had the smile on her face and the look in her eyes. We continue drinking and laughing throughout the night. More hand grabbing, more touching, more closeness. It became evident at that point that the night could have gone in any direction. I had a decision to make. I dug her. Do I pursue Sandra, or take the easy kill. At least in my drunken stupor it felt as if it was a decision that needed to be made, however, my drunkenness would eventually make the decision for me.

A bit later as the night was beginning to thin out, Daisy came over to the table. Plenty of seats available yet my lap was her seat of choice. She was clearly intoxicated.

Daisy: “Where have you been all night?”

This guy: “Talking with my good friend Sandra here.”

Daisy: “Oh yeah, you guys becoming friends?”

This Guy: “She’s been keeping me company. I don’t know anyone here; I’m latching on to her.”

Daisy: “Well you could have gone around and mingled, everyone here is really very nice.”

This Guy: “I know. I met Dave. Nice guy.”

Sandra: “Dave, I’m sure won’t forget you anytime soon.”

Daisy: “Oh lord, what did you do?”

This Guy: “Nuthin, just talking to Mr. COO from Jersey.”

Daisy: “GUY!!! What did you say to him?” she asked with a laugh.

Sandra: “Let’s just say he was takin a couple of shots on the guy.”

This Guy: “I was taking shots WITH him. Yes, drinking shots. We sat, we took shots. We were being men. Well he was trying to be a man, but being from Jersey kinda makes that impossible. He's barely human.”

Sandra starts laughing again. Daisy can’t help but laugh as well.

Daisy: “I can’t believe you. You were making fun of my guests! Oh gawd he’s from Jersey?” She said closing her eyes while turning her head to the side.

She shares my hatred for all things Jersey.

This guy: “Uh huh. I couldn’t believe it either. Poor bastard.”

Daisy: “Well that’s not his fault. Now stop makin fun of my guests. You always do that. You can’t help it. It’s like a disease with you.”

This guy: “Hey now. I was just jokin around. I can’t believe you just called me out like that. I was just trying to make Sandra laugh.”

Daisy: “Anyhow, I’ll let this one go because I don’t really like him, but please stop.”

This guy: “I’m doing it for Sandra.”

Sandra: “Don’t bring me into this lovers quarrel.”

This guy: “But Sandra I thought we had something?”

Sandra: “Oh yeah. Sumthin real special darlin.”

Daisy: “Helloooo? I’m still here.”

Typical. She is starved for attention. Anyhow, it’s at this point that I fuck it all up with Sandra because of my booze fueled mouth.

This guy: “listen, you’ll get all the attention you deserve a little later in the confines of your room…. Hubba hubba… roar…”

Thing is, I did say “hubba hubba,” and I did roar while making a tiger paw with my hand, but in my drunken mind, that was the joke. In real life it was perceived differently.

Daisy: “I’ll be waiting.” She says after biting my nose.

She gets up and leaves. It’s just me and Sandra now. I notice she has moved much further away from me than before, no more touching, no more laughing, and now kinda irritated.

This guy: “So…”

Sandra: “It’s late, I’m going to bed. Night darlin.”

And like that… she gets up to leave.

This guy: “Wait, no more laughing? I was having fun with you… stay and talk with me as I drink some more and undoubtedly make an ass out of myself.”

Sandra: “You already have. Talk to you in the morning.”

Ouch. That sucked, Sandra is a hottie and would have been new strange booty as opposed to old familiar booty. Whatever, fortunately booze makes me get over shit quickly.

I made my way into Daisy’s room and plopped down face first with all my clothes on. The party was still going and Daisy was being social. I was sleepy… I went to sleep.

A few hours later I hear the door open in the room. I am still very much drunk and the person entering, Daisy, is incredibly drunk. This is where God and I battle it out.

Daisy climbs into bed in her full 80’s attire, wig and all. Very hot.

This guy 1; God 0

Daisy cuddles up behind me and immediately grabs my junk.

This guy 2; God 0

Daisy falls asleep.

This guy 2; God 1

I try to roll over and wake her up; she won’t budge and begins to snore.

This guy 2; God 2

I fall back to sleep, she begins to molest me, I suspect while she is sleeping.

This guy 3; God 2

I turn over and wake her; we are starting to get it on. In the heat of the moment she is breathing heavily through her mouth. It smells like turpentine.

This guy 3; God 3

I am no longer turned on, I am sobering up, and I really just want to go back to sleep. She persists.

This guy 3; God 4

Not having fun anymore. Literally fighting her off. She persists.

This guy 3; God 5

I finally tell her to stop. She stops. I fall back to sleep.

This guy 4; God 5

I wake up; she’s been busy trying to get me turned on. I am aroused. I have a splitting headache. Sex is apparently a good way to get rid of head aches. I give in. No point awarded as giving in gets god a point, but getting some, even though I didn’t want any, gives me a point. It’s a wash.

It lasted all of 4 minutes. Not 4 minutes of bliss, but rather, 4 minutes of half asleep, drunken, dry, she’s-on-top-of-me sexing. I didn't even finish. I just think we both just decided to go back to sleep. I honestly barely remember it. It was hardly memorable, but at least the trip was now justified. At least I would be able to tell this story with some shred of dignity. If I’m going on a transcontinental booty call, there better be some booty involved. Anyhow, that’s typical of god. He’ll give you what you want, but he’ll get you if you’re not specific enough. Prankster. Final score…

This guy 4; God 6

The final point awarded to God for giving me the worst booty from someone that used to give me some of the best.

That morning I got up, packed my bags, and made my way to the airport where I got on a Jet Blue flight back home with the worst hang over ever. One of God’s signature moves.

So that was it. Daisy and I, still talk, still friends, still pretend like nothing happened that night. She has since become mortal enemies with Sandra over some money issues. Typical of Daisy. Sandra went on to make it into a popular HBO show as a recurring background character. She and I still talk as well. I mean like WTF? Why wouldn’t I?

Once back in the states, I dive head first into work. Keep your eyes here for the next story. I will reveal what I actually do for a living as it is pertinent to the story of the next girl that I meet. Yes, she works for the same company I do. Yes, I know how it ends already. Yes you will be introduced to one of the most unique (?!?!) individuals I have ever dated. Good thing? Bad Thing? Whatever the case it gets messy. Find out what hapens on the next one… It's the precursor to something HUGE!

Los Angeles: Part 2 - Daisy

I arrive at the airport around noon on Friday.

Having slept the whole flight, I was somewhat refreshed and ready to check out LA. I was still very excited about the whole idea of being there and somewhat nervous as to how this whole thing was going to play out.

I called her to let her know I arrived and she told me she was just getting to the airport. I told her I would meet her at the passenger pick up curb.

In the short amount of time I had before she picked me up, I went through the “what’s the coolest way to be” exercise. This is typical of me as I never fully embraced my usual self as being cool enough. So, with that said, while standing at the curb I went through the usual set of questions…

“Jacket on or off? If off, slung over my shoulder or draped over my bag?” Well it was LA and it was a little warm, but my leather jacket was very thin and very stylish, so maybe keeping it on would be cooler. I tried the different options, and after looking around and seeing people with their jackets on in the very phony LA, I decided I would keep it on. Plus my excuse was that I came from New York and it was freezing over there.

“Sunglasses on or off?” That was easy, they were cool designer sunglasses and the sun was beaming, so sunglasses stayed on.

“How should I stand? Leaning against a post? Sitting against a rail? Maybe sitting on the curb? Perhaps sitting on my bag?” I tried all the different options… and leaning against a post seemed to work the best, plus I could smoke a cigarette and look even a little bit cooler. Yes, in my mind I was James Dean, but whatever, let me be, I was in LA, that’s what you do there, you pretend to be something you’re not. Don’t judge. When people ask me why I started smoking, I always answer “because it’s cool.” I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that I started because I had this desire to fill my lungs with refreshing good-for-you smoke and because my nerves were shot when I was a kid. It was simply cool. Still is. I’m not really a smoker though, as I only smoke in social occasions and typically with a drink in hand. If I meet a chick that doesn’t smoke, then neither do I. The end. I digress.

So as I was standing up against a post with my jacket on, sunglasses on, and a cigarette in hand, she pulled up. Sitting in the passenger seat was one of her friends. She waves me over into the car and I jump in back.

Daisy: “HEEEEEEY!”

This Guy: “YO YO YOOOO! What’s up Dais?!”

I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek.

Daisy: “Guy, this is my friend Sandra, Sandra this is guy.”

Sandra: “Nas to meetchoo darlin.”

Sandra had THE ONLY southern accent.

This guy: “The pleasure is all mine. Where’s the accent from Sandra?”

Sandra: “Tampa.”

Daisy: “This Guy used to live down there.”

This guy: “Yeah, I used to live in Orlando. I have a bunch of friends from around there.”

Sandra: “Ah kanda miss it. Ah love the sun.”

This guy: “How long have you been gone?”

Sandra: “1 week.”

Oh boy. Another drama queen. 1 week and she’s already missing the place. Sandra was about 5’5”, blond, slender with a teeny little pot belly, a tattoo on her back and one on her arm. Beautiful eyes and a very pretty face. Smoked like she was from the south. I knew she had a story to tell, I decided I would coax it out of her later.

This guy: “So are you here for Daisy’s party?”

Sandra: “No I actually moved here.”

This guy: “Actress?”

Sandra: “Yup.”

No, I’m not psychic.

This guy: “Have you acted in anything?”

Sandra: “Ah was on “Days of Our Lives” when I lived in New York. It was a small role, but it was fab.”

This guy: “Why’d you leave New York?”

Sandra: “It’s just too busy there. Ah need mah space. Ah drav a big ol truck, ah lahk open space. It was fab, but it just wasn’t for me.”

One week and she was already “Fab’ing”. She was adapting to the valley girl thing rather quickly.

This guy: “I can dig it. So Dais, what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

Daisy: “Well I have to go pick up some balloons and some more party decorations for the party tomorrow and I have to pick up some food and wine for tonight. I hope you don’t mind. I know you just got here and I already have you running errands.”

This Guy: “It’s cool man, I’m just happy to be here, I still can’t believe I’m here.”

Daisy: “It’s great isn’t it?”

This Guy: “It’s crazy.”

After a couple of hours riding around in an estrogen filled car listening to country music and 2 girls that knew all the lyrics to every mind numbing country tune, I realized that I was the poorest person in the car. Daisy being an inheritance baby and Sandra as well made for a very interesting dialogue between the 3 of us. Sandra’s family sold huge plots of land to a major amusement park and became incredibly wealthy. She was new money. Daisy’s ancestors were huge media tycoons and her money’s been trickling down the blood line for decades. She was old money. Me? I came from a family that worked their ass off to make a good living and I followed in their footsteps, I was earned money. So when we pulled up to the organic food market, I wasn’t surprised.

Daisy: “We need lemons. 3 of them.” She said looking over her shopping list.

Sandra: “They’re raht over there sweety. Ah’ll git’em.”

Daisy: “Make sure they say Organic on them, sometimes they have regular ones in there.”

This Guy: “How can you tell?”

Daisy: “They don’t have the sticker on them.”

This Guy: “What if the sticker fell off?”

Daisy: “Well I just don’t want to chance it.”

This Guy: “Do they taste different?”

Daisy: “Well they are supposed to taste better, but I can’t tell the difference. I just like getting organic ones because they are healthier for you.”

This Guy: “Do you eat them raw Dais?”

Daisy: “No of course not.”

This Guy: “So you think a little lemon zest that isn’t organic is enough to make you less healthy?”

Sandra: “Ah’m with you on this one. Ah could cay’r less. Just buy the fuckin thangs and git over it. WTF?” she said laughing with her rock-n-roll southern redneck drawl.

WTF stands for “what the fuck.” Valley girls can’t pronounce very well, so they use acronyms. Southern girls copy valley girls apparently. Sandra was victem to the latter.

Daisy: “Ok, well I’m not having this conversation; just buy the organic ones, will ya?”

This Guy: “No doubt, just wondering what goes on in your head. We’ll get the fruits, you get the meats.”

Daisy: “Ok.”

With that Sandra and I went off to the fruit section and began looking for organic fruits. She and I were joking the whole time about the ridiculousness of organic food. We picked up our fruits and met back up with Daisy. She seemed to be struggling at the meat section. Daisy will take forever if you let her make a decision on her own because she weighs every deciding factor equally. She will stare at a label for hours comparing the nutrients, fats, calories, and sugars. She will find out where it was grown or made and if child labor was involved. She will take the region and question if the weather conditions were right for growing. She will ask someone their opinion to see which tastes better. She will flip a coin 42 times to see what god thinks. I mean this girl is obsessive when it comes to decisions. We had to help her or we would never leave.

Daisy: “Ok, we have free roaming chicken, we got free roaming organic beef, and we got regular chicken and regular beef. The butcher says the regular chicken and beef look a little better, but its not organic or free roaming. What should we get? ”

This Guy: “Get some free roaming chicken, and get some free roaming beef, what’s the big deal? That’s what you believe in right? Free roaming animals?”

Daisy: “But this isn’t for me and I also want it to taste good.”

I didn’t question her logic, although in retrospect, I should have.

This Guy: “It’s a barbeque; it’ll all taste the same.”

Sandra: “Mah uncle, gawd I love him, he kin cook the shit out of some chicken on the bah-bee-que.”

That was Sandra’s way of contributing. I still don’t get it. How did that help at all?

Daisy: “Alright fine but we should just pick either chicken or beef. A lot of my friends are vegetarians so I don’t want to get different meat because I don’t want to offend them.”

This Guy: “Would they get offended?”

Daisy: “I don’t know, but I don’t want to throw it in their faces that we are eating 2 different types of animals. I don’t want to push it. Let’s just get what we need.”

This Guy: “Go with the beef filet roast and for the vegetarians get some veggie burgers.”

Daisy: “What do you think Sandra?”

Sandra: “I don’t care I’m a vegetarian.”

This Guy: “Et tu Brute?” I asked in disbelief?

Here I thought we were on the same page by joking about organic food and it turns out she’s as confused as the rest. What about that chicken her uncle could cook the shit out of? She clearly loves it. I just wish she wouldn’t lie to herself.

Sandra: “But it’s not like I get offended. I just don’t eat it because I don’t like the taste of it.”

That’s what I was waiting for. Actresses say that when they don’t want to admit they are starving themselves to land a role.

This Guy: “Just buy the filet.”

Daisy: “Fine, but how much is enough?”

She began counting carnivorous friends when she was interrupted.

Sandra: “Oh hell, buy the whole damn roast. Who cayrs? It’s only 70 dollars honey, Ah’ll pay for it. If they don’t eat it tonight, Guy’ll eat it tamarra. Raht Guy?”

This Guy: “I’m a foodatarian.”

Now what you saw in this whole exchange was a little bit of the dynamic between the 3 of us. Daisy’s old money ways had her eating the finest ingredients and wanting to please all her guests when she entertained. Money was no object and she would never talk about price. Only the best for her guests. Sandra’s new money had her buying the whole dang $70 fillet roast because it was only 70 dollars and she clearly had the money. Everyone should know that a 70 dollar roast is nothing to this out of work actress. My earned money had me eating anything that was left over. The 3 of us together was a big social experiment. This was the way it would be for the rest of my time there in LA. I got used to it.

After we wrapped up our errands, we ended up at Daisy’s place. The food was put away, we were all pretty tired. It was getting late. We were going to try to hit a club where one of Sandra’s friends was hosting an industry party but we were beat. We all agreed we would just stay home, have some drinks and play trivial pursuit.

Sitting around the table was Sandra, Daisy, myself, and a couple. We had 2 bottles of wine for all of us. We started playing and the game was going smoothly. It was a laid back night; we were having fun, and drinking wine. By the end of the first bottle however, I realized that it wouldn’t be enough. We called a booze delivery service and ordered 4 bottles of red wine. That should be enough for us.

The booze took a while to arrive, but by the time it did, the other bottle was gone, a few random beers were gone, and the couple had left. Sandra wasn’t drinking.

This Guy: “So why aren’t you drinking Sandra, it’s Friday?”

Sandra: “Ah don’t drink.”

This Guy: “Why’s that?”

Sandra: “Well it’s not that ah neva did. Ah just drank too much when ah was younger. I was in rehab for 6 months.”

I knew there was more to her. I knew she had a story, they all do.

This Guy: “Well then I won’t tell you how amazing this wine is.”

Sandra: “Thanks darlin.”

Daisy: “This wine is pretty good.”

This Guy: “It’s fucking great, but we won’t tell Sandra that.”

Daisy and I were definitely buzzed.

Sandra: “Alraht guys, I kin hear ya.”

Daisy: “I want more can you top me up?”

This Guy: “Sure thing.”

I filled both of our glasses.

This Guy: “So when did you realize it was a problem for you Sandra? And how old are you again?”

Sandra: “When ah was gittin into trouble. I'm 23. It runs in mah family, ah figured I’d nip it in the bud.”

This Guy: “You know what runs in my family?”

Sandra: “What?”

Daisy: “Assholiness?”

She couldn't resist.

This Guy: “That’s not fair you had insider info. This was Sandra’s triva question.”

Sandra: “Honey, ahm sorry but I can’t see you for an asshole.”

This Guy: “Make no apologies; I take that as a compliment. Your friend Daisy over here is completely out of line.”

Daisy: “Oh I was out of line? You were a prick sometimes. You know what you did.” She said referring to a problem she had with me being friends with my ex’s.

This Guy: “If I did what you wanted me to do, I wouldn’t be here now would I?”

Daisy: “True, let’s drink to that.”

This Guy: “Lets.”

Sandra: “Why did you 2 break up?”

This Guy: “A little of this a little of that. Details, details… can I get my trivia question please.” I was waiting to earn my brown trivial pursuit wedge.

Daisy: “He’s too much of a good guy to his friends and ex’s and not enough of a good guy to his girlfriend.

This Guy: “Low blow. The real answer is that Daisy is a jealous mess.”

Daisy: “But I’m not anymore.”

This Guy: “You’re welcome. Let’s drink to that.”

Daisy: “Lets.”

Sandra: “Alright, ya’ll are bein retarded. Ahm tired, ahm goin to bed.”

With that, it was just me and Daisy left. It was 1AM. There were still 4 bottle of wine. Neither of us was ready for bed. Neither of us was drunk enough. We pressed on.

Daisy and I played and drank till 5 in the morning. We killed every one of those bottles. We were thoroughly drunk. At some point in the night Daisy had made her Jekyll and Hyde switch because she was being a little meaner and she had that look in her eyes. That evil “life did me dirty” look. I was aware of it, but I was drunk too, so I didn’t care. If I was sober, I probably would have been terrified. She is a monster when she is that drunk… but she also turns into a porn star. Who am I to judge?

I was finally ready for bed. I had the slow blink going on, I was way drunk and the sun was starting to come up. I made my way into Daisy’s room, and plopped face down, fully clothed on her mattress. Eyes closed… I fell out…

A few minutes later Daisy opens the door to her room. She had changed into this red full body long-john suit with the panel in the butt so that you can pee in the middle of the night. She looked very homely. She was making a lot of noise. So much noise in fact that I woke up.

“Did I wake you?”

“A little bit.”

“Oh sorry. Are you going to sleep in all your clothes?”

“Um… no. I was just resting my eyes, I’m going to change.”

“So change then.”

“I will.” I said with ZERO intention.

She crawls into bed and gets up next to me. She puts her arm around me and my eyes close. I fall out again.

I woke what I am assuming was a couple of hours later. She had her hand firmly on my junk and my little man was apparently ready for business. She was asleep and she was molesting me. I entertained the idea of getting it on, but I was just so fuckin tired. I turned over and in doing so; she lost her grip on my manhood. She stayed asleep. I fell out again.

An hour or so later, I woke again. Only this time I was the one doing the molesting. My hand was in her homely red jump suit planted squarely on her boob. I gently slipped it out from under her jump suit and went back to sleep.

God knows how long after that, I woke again to her spooning me from behind and giving me the old reach around. If we weren’t as tired as we were, we probably would have ended up revisiting old playgrounds, but tiredness won. I fell back to sleep.

I let God win this one because it was the first night. I was tired. I really didn’t care to prove anything and she didn’t exactly look hot in that stupid jump suit. I figured the night of the big party would be a better bet. Plus I still had 2 days with her, it could have gotten awkward. If I waiting till Saturday night, I would get some, wake up the next day and jump on a plane. That seemed like the move. That was the ace up my sleeve.

We both woke up in the afternoon after her alarm clock went off. Daisy sets an afternoon alarm clock because she often has late nights and she doesnt want to waste the day. I looked at her, I smirked and i asked her how she slept. She looked at me, she looked under the covers, then quickly back at me. She was completely nude. I attempted to look under the covers, i caught a 2 millisecond glimpse before she sealed herself in the bedsheets.

Daisy: “Did we…?”

This Guy: “Um… no. We didn’t.” I said a little puzzled.

Daisy: “Shoot.” she replied with a "then how the hell did i wake up nude?" expression on her face.

This Guy: “Well, there’s always tonight.”

Daisy: “There is ALWAYS tonight." she laughed. "Let’s get breakfast.”

We both didn’t “remember” anything. Convenient.

With that I got up and made my way to the kitchen while she put some clothes on. I really didn't remember any point in the night that she would have disrobed or that i would have disrobed her. But people do funny things when they are drunk and asleep.

The day was to be spent decorating and prepping the apartment for that night. She had to run some more errands and I decided I would meet up with an old friend of mine that happened to live in LA. I had this over confident demeanor. I felt good. I knew that night was going to be something different. There was one small problem… I was starting to dig Daisy’s friend Sandra. Her and I seemed to always end up talking together, laughing together, and relating to each other. She reminded me an aweful lot of another one of my ex's whome i adore and to this day is my best friend. What's this all about?

Stay tuned… It only gets better. It involves Daisy. It involves Sandra. It involves an industry party. It involves a mess load of people and a lot of booze. I undoubtedly find a way to get into trouble… God and I square off… see who wins…

Los Angeles: Part 1 - Daisy

Every now and then something so crazy happens that leaves you bewildered. So crazy that it makes you wonder if real life really is like the movies. So crazy that you might exclaim “This shit only happens when I’m tripping!” For some of you, every thing you read in this blog falls under that category, but for me that’s status quo, that’s just real life. However I wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen to me on this unassuming Thursday morning.

Its 4:30 AM. Phone rings. In my line of work this is typical. In fact, never mind my line of work, with god’s cruel plan to make sure I never get a decent night’s sleep, this is typical. However in my age, I’ve learn to become clever. The genius is in the voicemail greeting.

“Hey I must have missed your call, if this is urgent please try back, otherwise leave a message.”

See my first line of defense is to make people call me again. No one likes to be a pain in the ass. So if they have to call back, they will make sure that it is urgent, otherwise, well… they’ll have to leave a message and I’ll listen to it when I damn well please. No guarantees there. So in a typical 4:30 AM call, I ignore it the first time it rings. Usually it will be followed by the voicemail tone and I will sleep soundly for the rest of the night knowing I have avoided my responsibility yet one more time. Not this time though… the caller called back.

I thought this was unusual and began to mentally prepare myself for an agonizing early morning conversation. I get up to pick up my cell phone and on the caller ID I see Daisy.

Now, a brief history on this marvel of an Ex-girlfriend. Daisy was an heiress to a fortune that lived in a pent house apartment in union square. I met Daisy one day when mutual friends of ours introduced us. We began to date and the sex life was phenomenal. The world was at our disposal. So why is she an ex? Good question. Simple answer. SHE IS FUCKING CRAZY. Growing up and never having to hone up to any responsibility really does a number on someone. Not having to ever work a day in your life and having all you want at your will really skews reality for these people. If they don’t have to work, they don’t. The result is typically an unmotivated individual looking for the meaning of life and self worth. They take things that you and I regard as extremely valuable for granted. Oh and my favorite, they malfunction when shit doesn’t go their way. Spoiled doesn’t even begin to describe what these confused and sad individuals are like. Needless to say, I love Daisy as a friend because I find her neurosis endearing and at the end of the day, she has a great big caring heart. Deep down inside she wants what you and I want, and that’s happiness. She just hasn’t figured out how to buy it.

Now Daisy fell off my radar for almost 8 months. We used to talk regularly once a month or so then all of a sudden, she stopped returning my calls, she stopped calling, she stopped responding to emails and she was certainly not emailing. I was worried because in her fragile state, it usually means that something traumatic is happening in her life, and by traumatic I mean some stupid boy problem. So when I saw her on caller ID, my 4:30 AM despair turned into excitement to hear from an old friend… who was probably really drunk and didn’t realize she was calling so early in the morning. I answered the phone.

“Holy shit!!! What the fuck is up?”

She laughs. “HEY GUY!!!”

“How are you sweety, I haven’t heard from you in ages, where the hell have you been?”

“I know I know, I’m sorry. I was in this relationship and it was just not good and… and… hold on a sec…” she said clearly distracted by something. “…Ok, so yeah um yeah it was this boy and he’s an ass but whatever I don’t want to talk about that. How are you?”

“I’m good, I mean besides the fact that it’s 4:30, I’m great. I missed you. You totally fell off for so long. I was worried! You weren’t returning my calls. It got to the point that I would call knowing that it would go to voicemail and I resorted to singing on your voicemail messages in hopes that it would get your attention.”

“Yes, I loved those.”

“So why didn’t you call me back?”

“I just wasn’t right, but believe me; it always cheered me up to hear your voice.”

“Well that’s great, no more falling off though.” I said like a true disciplinarian.

“I promise.” She said in her sweetest innocent voice.

Her voice was a bit higher pitched, her sentences were a little slurry, and she was a little scatter brained… this was very familiar to me. I knew she was either very drunk or coked up.

“So Daisy, what time is it over there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean mister?”

“Nooothing, joooke. Relaxxx.”

So as amused as I was, I felt sleep would probably be the better choice, I decided to try to find an out. If Daisy was drunk the conversation would probably end with her passing out of the phone, if she was coked up, it probably would not have ended… EVER. I decided not to risk it and began searching for my way out.

“Hey Dais, can I call you later today, I just realized I have a huge meeting I have to be at super early tomorrow.”

That was a huge lie but it usually worked.

“Cancel the meeting.”

“OK?!?!? Whattaya retahded? You know I can’t do that.”

“No see, you don’t understand, you have to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that Dais?” I aked rolling my eyes.

You see typically she would follow up with some dumb shit like "Because I'm more important than your stupid job." Not this time though...

“Because I need you to get on an airplane tomorrow at JFK at 11:30AM.”

“Um yeah… that’s not happening, firstly because I can’t just take the day off, and secondly do you know how much a flight is if you buy it the day before? What’s the occasion what’s so important?”

“No, see… guy… you don’t understand. See the ticket is already bought. You are already booked. I need you to get on that plane.”

“WAIT WHAT?!?!”

“Yeah, so call your boss and tell him you need to take off.”

“Um…”

I was at a loss for words. Adrenaline started rushing through my veins. Why am I so addicted to this feeling?

“Wait, aren’t you the boss there?”

“Yeah um…”

“Stop being so important and take the day off. The world won’t end without you.”

“Wow, Dais, I’m uh… speechless… this is all too crazy right now.”

“So you’re coming right?”

After a long pause and careful consideration I decided it wasn’t a good idea… to go to work. This kinda shit doesn’t happen often, I had to do it.

“Yes. I’m in. I’m going to get hell for this but fuck it."

The thrill was intense. I felt so wrong, but sooooo right.

"So what’s the occasion?”

“I’m having an industry party at my house on Saturday and I need you to be my date. We need to cause some trouble.”

She was an aspiring actress, and by aspiring I mean that she gets her head shots updated every 6 months but NEVER goes to auditions. She gets so nervous that she ends up locked in a bathroom for hours trying to "calm" her nerves. Sounds like sobbing in a bathtub with the water running. I wonder what retreat she learned that technique from. She will one day go to auditions... I just don't know when. These industry parties did help though, in a few circumstances she landed parts without auditioning, but you wont find her on cable TV anytime soon.

“Oh yeah? Cause some trouble? It’s like that?” I asked with a devilish grin.

Trouble was code speak for making "the sex," or doing "the love" if you will. It had been years since her and I hooked up, but I knew exactly what she was getting at. I mean it made sense. No more boyfriend, feeling vulnerable, she knew I was single, why not? Been there done that, no new notch on the belt. It’s kinda perfect.

“Yeah, we need to get into trouble.” She responded.

If you can imagine for a minute, I was lying in bed, it was pitch black in my room, I’m on the phone with a sex crazed ex, and I was just told to get on a transcontinental booty call. What would you have done?

“Ok, well you can expect me there, but I have to ask you something.”

“What?”

“When did you buy this ticket?”

“Last week.”

“Why did you wait until the night before to tell me?”

“I’m not stupid. I know you too well guy. If I would have told you last week you would have talked your way out of it. But you can’t resist something this crazy. The fact that I am calling you the night before makes it impossible for your twisted little brain to say no.”

Ugh... I felt so cheap and predictable. But she was right. I couldn’t say no. What a great story it would make. I knew that this kind of thing might never happen again.

“Wow, am I really that easy to read Daisy?”

“No, you are hard as hell to read, that’s why we didn’t work out, but that part of you, let’s just say it comes with getting to know you.”

“That’s fair. Well you won. I’m going. You will see me there and it should be fun.”

“Oh it will be.”

“Alright Dais, well I’m going to bed, I have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.”

“Ok, I can’t wait to see you.” she said with cheer in her raspy voice.

“Me neither, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Good night sweety.”

“Bye love.”

And as I hung up the phone I the sick adrenalin rush come over me again. I must have done something right in this life to have this kind of experience fall on my lap. I could barely sleep. I imagined the kind of trouble I would be getting into and the thrill was just too much. If my memory served me, she was a lil bit of a rock star and there’s nothing wrong with that.

The next morning I told my boss I had a family emergency and I packed my shit. I told Kofa about what happened.

"You better represent. Don't come back if you didn't." He said firmly while shaking my hand.

"I wont let you down."

"Nah nigga, you wont be lettin me down, that's YOU. Don't fuck this one up."

He called me "nigga," thats how I knew we were having a heart to heart type of conversation.

"I won't homie. I'm out! I'll call you when I get there."

"No doubt."

With that I left to the airport. I arrived at the Jet Blue terminal, gave them my name and sure enough I was booked. Before I knew it I was on a plane headed for Burbank California with a bag of clothes, a toothbrush, and some of my rubbery little friends.

I was skeptical though. Something was terribly wrong. God had made this all too easy for me. What was the catch? How come I didn’t get in trouble at work? I mean they practically rolled out the red carpet when I asked to take off. How come my flight wasn’t delayed? Why wasn’t I miserably stranded at the airport for hours? Why wasn’t there any horrifying turbulence on the flight? Something was up. I knew that god wasn’t just letting me win…

Well god wasn’t letting me win. He was crafting an amazing stunt. I mean this one was well thought out. I mean it was in Hollywood, it wouldn’t be a god move if he didn’t glam it up. But I didn’t go down without a fight. I was ready for this battle.

The battle ground was chosen. It was Daisy’s house. It was 2 nights. The next part of the story involves a game of trivial pursuit, 5 bottles of wine, and only 4 players. I wasn’t ready for what I was about to be a part of, but I’m keen and cunning, I adapted…find out what happens in part 2.

Dana & Emmy

In this city, finding interesting people is no major feat. You simply walk out your front door, look around, say hello to the first person you see, and chances are you have met someone interesting. Well since I’ve been single I have gotten into the swing of my new life and have met some very interesting people as you well know. I have settled into my single life rather well. Whereas before I would come home, have dinner with my honey, watch some TV then go to bed, I now find myself visiting friends, having some after work drinks, hosting dinners, “Grey’s Anatomy” viewing parties and well, just plain being social.

Now I understand I have been late in updates so let’s move to catch you guys up and get you into my current state of affairs. This story is about 2 girls. Dana and Emmy. To make this a little easier to follow, as it is a very long story, Anything relating to Dana will be in Red, anything relating to Emmy will be in Blue.

A while back shortly after my birthday I met Dana. She is an incredibly interesting person. She came from a small farm town in the Midwest where her family ran a berry farm. She moved to NY to pursue her dancing career and get some of that city life in her. She graduated college, found a gig as a costume coordinator for one of the best dance companies in the world and eventually ran into me. She practices dance with her company but she is not one of the performing dancers. She is quite limber.

Dana and I exchanged emails and kept in contact for a while almost exclusively through emails. Now I am not bashful about admitting that I am a master at the email game, so it would only be a matter of time before I entered into her good graces.

I met Emmy right around the same time I met Dana. I met her at a weekly party in Brooklyn called “Earth Potential” and became good friends with her there. She’s an Asian that defies reality as she has many features that are un-Asian in nature. For one she has a nice ass, and secondly she has a nice rack. This girl has the slamming body but is lacking in terms of personality. I mean seriously lacking. Kofa and I call her “Seca” which is a Spanish term that means “Dry.” As in her personality was “muy seca.” Talking to her was just short of talking to a bobble head doll. She would nod her head, look away, and have nothing else to say. It’s a wonder that we stayed her friend but because we saw her a lot at these parties it was inevitable and eventually she was able to open up a little.

At some point we exchanged numbers and decided we would make a plan to hang out sometime at some place other than at Earth Potential. There was never really a good time to hang out as I valued my weekends entirely too much to spend them with her, so any hanging would have to be done during the week. We agreed to go to a Wednesday party at Cielo. Little Louis Vega, one of our favorite Dj’s has a residency there and she’d never seen him there, so it was perfect. Us 2 dj’s, at a club, with music we both loved, having drinks, feeling the vibe… how sadly and uniquely romantic. This didn’t really feel like a first date because we have, on numerous occasions, hung out at Earth Potential listening to music.

More on this later.

Now with Dana, things were a little different. When I finally managed to work my email mojo and get a date, we kinda did the whole first date thing. It was strange, exciting, and refreshing all at once. Over email she was incredibly funny and her personality was becoming the central point of attraction. I could only hope that this extended amount of time we would be having would be as fun and interesting as the dialogue we’ve had for some time as pen pals. We agreed that we would go out, grab some drinks at an awful frat bar because the people watching would be amazing and we love to make fun of people, then head over to the comedy cellar because she had never been to a comedy club before. It was your typical date type scenario.

Well the night went extremely well, we had a lot of fun, shared a lot of laughs and I was intoxicated by her personality… and some Jack Daniels.

I went on a couple of other dates with her (all with the same end result). Things were moving swimmingly.

Now we’ve all done this so don’t judge me, but if I could take Emmy’s body and combine it with Dana’s personality, I would have a winner for sure. But god doesn’t play that way. I say “Dear god, please let me meet the body and the brains, the pretty and personality.” God says “ok” and delivers it in 2 packages. Dick. That’s not to say that Dana was not attractive, but as a dancer she certainly didn’t have the best body. Dancers usually have smaller chests and not so pretty feet… Dana was no exception. Emily had it all minus the personality. That bitch was DRY! (ßI’m sorry I can’t stress that enough.)

So one day she sends me a text message while I was out and decided I would stop by and meet her before I went home. It was a weeknight. She was at a bar called O’Donnelys. We began to drink and drink and drink. By this time we had gotten past the first kiss (which Jay facilitated by the way) and were already looking to take it to the next step. I wasn’t sure what that was, but kissing was starting to get boring. So that night we boozed ourselves into a stupor and decided it was finally time to go home.

This guy: “So what ware you going to do.”

Dana: “I don’t know maybe stay at Karen’s house or go home.”

Karen was the friend she had been hanging out at the bar with before I got there.

This guy: “Well you can come over if you want.”

No need to be smooth here, we were both drunk.

Karen: “Ok.”

Now before I finish this story I think it is important to take you back to an earlier date when her and I first kissed. I know this blog entry is Quentin Tarantino’ish in the way I jump from story to story, but just bare with me. The Flashback will be in this color.

When Dana and I first kissed it was at a loft party that she had invited me to. The party was in Brooklyn and it was crowded with people celebrating St. Patrick’s day. Jay met me at the party because whatever he was doing before he met up with me was horribly boring. So he met me at the party and boozed up like the rest of us. Anyhow, at some point toward the end of the night, the three of us were standing around.

Jay: “So is this the part where you guys kiss?”

Without hesitation, I leaned over to her and planted a kiss on her. It was our first kiss.

Dana: “I’m glad you finally got the gumption to kiss me.”

This guy: “Woah, what are you saying?”

Jay: “Wait, this is the first time you kissed?”

This guy: “Yes.” I turn to Dana “So what do you mean gumption, you saying I finally got the balls to kiss you?”

Dana: “All I’m saying is that you finally got the gumption. What do you think it means?”

This guy: “Well I finally got the gumption because you finally showed some sign of life.”

Dana: “Oh really? Hey listen don’t be mad at me because you never had the gumption to finally make a move. It’s ok, I think it’s cute.”

I leaned over kissed her again.

This guy: “You are trouble.”

That night we went back to my place. The flirting and the kissing lead to the bedroom. The lights were off, the kissing was intense, the clothes were coming off, and it was almost time to go when…

Dana: “Maybe we should stop.”

UGH! Here we go again. It felt like DeJaVu. (Remember Missy?)

This guy: “Sure.”

I began to roll off.

Dana: “Is that ok? Like is that cool?”

Ladies, please listen to me. Don’t do that. If it’s not time to do it, don’t do it. Don’t ask if its cool, it doesn’t matter if it is or if it isn’t, have some self respect and just put the breaks on it. Mine or any other dudes approval is not necessary here.

This guy: “Of course it is, I wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Dana: “Well tonight is the first time we kissed.”

This guy: “Nuff said, I can dig it.”

I laid down and went to sleep.

So that was the night that we first kissed and almost sexed. It didn’t happen, but I felt that it eventually would. I dug her, I was into her, and we had plans to hang out again.

Now before we go back to the last date with Dana, let’s go back to the date with Emmy. Emmy and I were at SkyBar dancing and listening to some amazing music. We rocked out and got very very drunk. It was at this point that we got to talking…

Emmy: “So what is this? Is this a date?”

This guy: “What would you like it to be?”

Emmy: “I would like it to be but I have to tell you, I’m kinda dating someone right now.”

I could not have given more of a fuck.

This guy: “That’s cool. Nothing serious. We’re just kickin it.”

Truth is I was dating Dana at the same time, so I really really didn’t give a fuck. I was exploring this whole “date girls, have fun” thing that the steering committee was so adamant about.

Emmy: “No there is a small problem.”

This guy: “What’s that?”

Emmy: “You kinda know him.”

This guy: “Who do you know that I know?”

Emmy: “Trust me, you know him.”

This guy: “Who Osiris?”

Osiris is the DJ that throws the parties at Earth Potential. Osiris also happens to be an acquaintance, albeit not a close friend, but a cool kat that I knew in the scene. We’ve shared cigarettes plenty of times.

Emmy: “Yep.”

Of all fuckin people.

This guy: “Yah, so this is not a date. This is just friends hanging, and honestly… a little heads up would have been cool.”

Emmy: “Why because I’m dating him? Whatever it’s really nothing serious, we’re just kind of kickin it.”

This guy: “That’s cool and all, but you know, probably just better as friends, no worries.”

Emmy: “You and your hang ups.”

So we kinda stood in silence for a minute and I couldn’t help but laugh. This was all so bizarre and par for course with my life.

Emmy: “What’s so funny?”

This guy: “I thought he was dating someone else.”

Emmy: “WHAT?!? What do you mean, who did you think he was dating?”

See I knew something about him… now my foot’s in my mouth, Thanks Booze! This was not my finest dunken hour.

This guy: “Well I didn’t think he was dating anyone, but I definitely didn’t think he was dating you.”

Nice. Real smooth. I outdo myself sometimes. Said with such intense stupidity and oozing idiocy. I am a fucking drunken moron.

Emmy: “What do you know?”

This guy: “Nah nothing.”

Emmy: “Who is he dating?”

This guy: “You want another drink?”

Emmy: “Is it your cousin?”

I nearly pissed myself. She nailed it. The truth is I had insider information from my own cousin who kissed him. In fact to make this even more dysfunctional, on one particular night, we were all at Osiris’ party and while I spoke to Emmy, my cousin was in a backroom making out with Osiris. How grimy is that?

This guy: “Woah.”

Emmy: “I knew it! I’m going to have a talk with him.”

This guy: “No way! You can’t. What are you going to talk to him about?”

Emmy: “Well I just want the truth. I want to know what we are.”

This guy: “Don’t forget, you are on a date right now. So if you don’t expect him to be pissed at you for this, you can’t be pissed at him for that. Plus he’s not really dating her, they just kissed. That’s all.”

I thought that would make her feel better, but it didn’t.

The night was quickly going downhill so we decided to go home. I take her to her house in Brooklyn and we decide to stop for bagels. She kept trying to get information out of me, but by this point I realized that not speaking would be the best policy. So there we sat eating our bagels trying to sober up when suddenly she shifted her line of questioning.

Emmy: “Wow, we are so drunk right now. How do you feel?”

This guy: “I feel fine, a little drunk but I’m good.”

Emmy: “You are not driving home like that.”

This guy: “Oh yeah? I’m fine Emmy, really I am.”

Emmy: “No way. You are way drunk. You are coming home with me.”

We were only a few blocks from her house and my car was parked. I had work the next day, it really wasn’t a good idea.

This guy: “You know what? Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna take a nap in my car and then head to my house.”

Emmy: “No way, you are coming up with me.”

This guy: “Where will I sleep?”

Emmy: “You can sleep with me. Don’t worry.” She said with a look in her eyes and a smirk delivered by the devil himself.

I knew what she was doing. Suddenly she was ceasing the opportunity to exact revenge on Osiris. I would not be a tool of her destruction. I mean I wanted to be, but no, not this time.

This guy: “You are bugging.”

Emmy: “fine you can sleep on my couch.”

I was convinced. I went to her apartment. Found a couch, rejected her offers to sleep with her on her bed, and knocked out. I woke up the next day, hopped in my car, went home, got changed, and off to work I went. I did not sleep with Emmy.

She wasn’t cut from the roster, but I definitely needed to give her some time to sort her shit out. We ended up seeing each other at parties and keeping in touch over email for almost 3 months when we have another go at it. We’ll talk about that some other time. Point is… Emmy was not the one I landed. So without delay…lets wrap up the story with Dana.

Dana and I leave O’Donnely’s and head to my house. Once there we run into my room, jump into something a bit more comfortable and begin the bedroom antics.

We were laying next to each other flirting when finally she rolls on top of me, grabs my hands and pins them to my side, and begins to kiss me hard. INSTANT TURN ON! Aggressive chicks definitely get points in my book. So we kissed some more and suddenly the momentum slipped. Maybe she was waiting for me to be aggressive, so I turned her over and began to aggressively kiss her. She was turned on… I think. She doesn’t make very much noise, but judging by the look on her face and her body language, I felt I was doing good by her.

So now we get to the part that I have historically fucked up. The condom. I discovered that if I plan it well enough, I could get to the condom and put it on before posting any noticeable loss. So I begin to prepare myself for the race against time when suddenly:

Dana: “Do you have something?” She said referring to a condom.

This guy: “Yes, yes I do.”

She totally caught me off guard. As if I had gotten stage fright, I totally blanked out. My plan went way out the window and instead I found myself fumbling for a condom, opening it, and… that’s right… putting it on backwards. I reach for another one, tear it open, and begin to put it on the right way, however, I was going limp mad quick and miss Dana laid there waiting for me to get my shit straight. She by no means was interested in protecting her investment otherwise she would have had her hands on my junk ensuring its rigidity. So after getting this thing on with a semi, the next problem was getting that bad boy in there. As we tried working it in, it seemed as if suddenly we were short on natural lubrication, and not to mention I was still not fully ready to go. So after mucking around for a bit I finally get it in and we no longer have rigidity issues. Lubrication is still a problem but we managed to solve it for the moment. We were now in full stride and I decided to take advantage of dancer qualities. Suddenly I was lifting her legs over her head, grabbing her ankles and making her do splits; I was working my mojo HARD. I was busting out all my moves and this girl was NOT receptive. No noise, no feedback, just laid there as I manhandled her. This became not fun very fast. I went on for a few more minutes and then I stopped. I didn’t even finish. She let out this big sigh and started these cute little full body shivers. I knew what this was for me, and for me it was horrible. But I wondered what it was for her…

This guy: “Did you finish?”

Dana: “Oh yeah.”

This guy: “Really?”

Dana: “Whatever are you looking for an ego stroke?”

This guy: “No, I didn’t even notice. When did it happen?”

Dana: “Like 5 minutes before you finished.”

For the record I didn’t finish but I knew what she meant.

This guy: “Oh ok, I didn’t even notice…so you need water for them hiccups?”

Referring to the full body spasms she was having.

Dana: “Real funny…ass.”

I went to sleep. Another notch on my belt and yet another huge disappointment. She laid there like a log. Didn’t move, just laid there. Ugh it was so disappointing. I knew before it was over that Dana would be cut. The next day I tried not to be shallow and tried to play it off, but my mind wouldn’t let me give it up. I went out with her one more time after that and she could pretty much sense it was over. We talked about it that night and decided we would be friends. She went on tour with her dance company and I haven’t seen her since. We keep in touch over email and I’m sure I will see her again, but as a friend and a friend only because after all, that bitch is funny.

So there you are. All caught up. If you are wondering why I decided to blast these stories out so quickly, well it’s because someone from my past has returned… It’s not who you think it is…

This story surpasses surreal. It begins at 4AM with a phone call. It ends in California 2 days later with a nasty hang over. Stay tuned.