dating personal

Front-runners & Back-burners

So my date on Saturday was really fun. Here’s the kicker though – wasn’t with Heartgirl.

Friday night, meet up with Hazel, Paul, and WM in the UWS. Elle’s there with her two friends, one of whom wants to step up to this striking blue-eyed blond bombshell. He leaves without so much as a hello to her so I turn to her: Hi there – lemme tell you story, morning glory…

She’s super nice but she’s the same name as my mother plus Elle’s there; not that I think she cares but still. I tell her we’ll run into each other again and politely eject. Besides, I tell WM, as we exit and turn onto 79th Street, there’s always something ’round the corner.

Sometimes, quite literally. Cause I immediately lock eyes with a grey-eyed girlie outside a bar who grins at me and says, Hi there! WM rolls his eyes as I wink at her and say, Howdy.

Me: The best thing about NYC’s the random meetings, yeah?
Her: (smiles) Yeah. What’s your name?

We had a great conversation but, you guessed it: 22. Fail. Speaking of fail, Saturday, Heartgirl cancels. Again. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t disappointed. Cause I don’t know her all that well, but what I do know, I like very much. Luckily, I’m not one to cry into my porridge:

Me: Dinner and a movie?
Pretty Cake Decorator: I’m not sure. I mean – I don’t really know you.
Me: (deep breath) This may not be the smartest idea I’ve ever had, but…my last name’s Lo. Google me.

She swings by and we end up watching two films and ordering in. We somehow find ourselves doing Stupid Human Tricks: I do a split and she touches the back of her head with her toes. We both end up laughing on the floor.

PCD: I’m glad I came over. (pause) But I can see this has potential for a lot of disappointment.
Me: (quietly) Well that’s…sad.

There’s that word again: disappointment. Isn’t that the worst, worst part of dating?

Heartgirl just told me why she couldn’t make it. It was a very good reason, actually. But there’s always a very good reason to bail, yeah? To quote HEI, everyone has their front-runners and back-burners. To add to that, sometimes you’re the front-runner, sometimes you’re the back-burner. Just how it shakes out.

While I think Heartgirl and I’ll always be friends, there’s never a really a good point to stick around, romantically, if you’re someone’s back-burner. Mrs. Lo didn’t raise any stupid sons.

Hopeless romantic ueber-nerds, yes. Stupid, no.

Cause I believe someone’ll see what you’re worth; you’ll be someone’s front-runner someday and she’ll be yours. Until then we all do just fine on our own.

Location: my pad
Mood: complacent
Music: I’m just gonna drive


Profitable but clumsy

We’ve got to speed things up in this hotel. Chef, if a guest orders a three-minute egg, give it to him in two minutes. If he orders a two-minute egg, give it to him in one minute. If he orders a one-minute egg, give him a chicken and let him work it out for himself.

Groucho – A Night in Casablanca

I’m profitable for June. Only by a couplea hundred bucks. Still…tiny win is better than no win at all.


Me: Sit on this side.
Her: (shaking head) No, that’s what they do in Portugal and I don’t like that.
Me: (rolling eyes) It’ll just mean that I’ve gotta lean across the table to kiss you. And I’m terribly clumsy. I mean, I’ll still do it and you’ll like it. I’m just saying, we’re taking a risk.
Her: (laughs) You’re a weirdo.

Had¬†dinner at the Maritime Hotel on Wednesday with Heartgirl and drinks round the meatpacking district. We’re supposed to go to Kanvas but it shut down. Of course.

Also seeing her Saturday, which is a big deal cause: (a) Fridays and Saturdays are for your friends and significant others and (b) she’s still not over her ex. And yet…Saturday night. I’m stupid like that.

It’s hard coordinating schedules – I’m always busy when they’re free or vice versa. Haven’t seen CakeDecorator, Blue-Eyed Girl or anyone else in a week.

Scored a Classic Room at the Borgata tomorrow but no girlie I’m seeing has made it to that, Hey, let’s spend a night at a five star hotel together, level so I just gave the room away. Even though no throwing down would be involved, I highly doubt that any of the women I’m seeing’d believe me if I told them that.

Not sure I believe me, come to think of it.

Location: bed
Mood: satisfied
Music: Honestly what will become of me



Location: home
Mood: sad
Music: And I’m asking the good Lord “why?” and sigh

(c) Derek Srisaranard

Somber day.

Found out through Benlbr that our friend Derek is in the hospital. Hit and run driver. From what I know, it’s touch and go; he’s not awake. It’s very scary. He was the stoner in our show, 72 to Canal.

I don’t know him that well but I like him; he’s young and talented. I hope very, very much that he gets a chance to be old and talented. I pray he gets that chance.

Like most people in NYC, I run into him in the life. When he first found out that I had taken up photography, he was like a kid in a pot-filled candystore. He’s such a good guy.

Wish I could say something profound but the words escape me at the moment.

I’ll tell my brother to let you know if anything happens to me. Cause you should know.

We’re friends, after all.


With nods to Irnbruise, this guy is selling his entire life online. He’s going to walk out of his house with the clothes on his back and his wallet.

I can relate. Of course, I’d take Harold and Syd. No worries. I’ll tell if I’ve gone fishing.

I’d like to start over again where nobody knows me. Have all my stupid mistakes a million miles away. But we all got our baggage, yeah? Even if it’s only what we carry inside.

dating personal

Awful Things

Not your ex

Her: You know what? I’m not your ex. I’m me. (long pause) You’ve never done awful things in your life, Logan?


Get a surprising message on Friday from someone I was dating. We opted to be friends and she calls to tell me something I really don’t wanna know. So, I’m disappointed in her. Then again, she called cause she needed a friend and I wasn’t the friend I should have been.

So, I’m disappointed in me.

Go out for the usual fun and games for Friday. Some girl keeps grabbing my butt so I bounce early. Saturday, wrestled. That’s a whole entry on it’s own. Then I go to my cousin’s wedding. Could do without everyone asking me when I’m getting married.

Orbit around Heartgirl all weekend; more misunderstandings between us. We’re supposed to meet up but something comes up so she bails. Thing is, I’m slightly glad we didn’t meet up cause who she is in my head might not be who she is at all.

Then again, I’m not the man they think I am at home.

Her: Hey…what are you doing up?
Me: I’m always up. I’m at 6th & A, heading home. Look…I’m calling to say that I’m sorry.
Her: Thanks. (pause) I’m really glad you called. I’m really glad.

That’s WM the night before. Heartgirl wanted to watch the Eurocup so I arranged it for a friend of mine to show it at her bar. Since Heartgirl didn’t come, WM came and we caught the game. And talked about our many regrets.

Paul, WM and I’re great at parties. Cause the people that’re really great at parties are the ones that just wanna forget the awful things.

Location: my bed
Mood: tired
Music: I think it’s gonna be a long, long time


Right here, right now

Me: I just wanted you to know that I’m outside again and it’s amazing. Jealous?
Her: Yes.

Had to drop off something for a friend yesterday so grabbed Syd and dashed downtown.

Was all stressed cause I was supposed to be working but, as I made it crosstown, I got lost in the jumble that is the Lower West Side. It ended up a good thing as I slowed down a bit to take pictures and enjoy the weather.

Later that night, met up with the Blue-Eyed Girl for drinks in the one block radius around Blue Jean Eyes’s pad. It’s weird when you revisit places and things from your past.

I’m trying to not live in the past or worry (quite) that much about the future.

It’s harder than you might think – to be here, in the right-this-second and not stuck in your head.

Luckily, we both know I’m stupidly optimistic. Keep thinking my better day’s right round the corner, y’know?

Time for work.

Location: not in my head
Mood: still optimistic
Music: there is no other place I want to be


Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go

I think we’re all looking for the things we can’t put into words

Evidently, Harold’s taken up smoking.

Y’know, you try to bring a houseplant up right, teach them the difference between right and wrong, and still…


With nods to Rianessa and Constellajen for their emails and the Pretty Cake Decorator for all this cake/dough talk. And HEI.

Have you ever wanted, say, a donut? Like really wanted a donut? And you eat everything sweet in the house but nuthin hits the spot cause, even if you ate a Fondant au Chocolat from Le Cirque, you didn’t get what you really wanted?

So then you get dressed, shlepp out into the cold and feel ridiculous because you’re a 35 year-old dude out in Manhattan at 3AM looking for a whole wheat donut.

And when you arrive and they hand over that whole wheat donut, it’s like you found Mecca. You down that bad boy, sigh, and think, Oh yeah, I’m done. I’m good to go.

That’s my answer to all of you that keep asking me what I’m looking for. Something that I know I want but can’t put inna words. I’m looking for the SING – the one of the 533 that fits into that something I can’t put inna words.

No sweet lie, keep hoping that the Pretty Cake Decorator, or Heartgirl, or the Blue Eyed Girl, or someone ends up being her.

And Yes, I’d give it all up, the womanizing, the late nights, the randomness, like quicksilver on crack cause that’s all justa placeholder for what I know what I really want. Nuthin else’ll do, you see.

Every single time, I’m hoping that I can say, Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go.

Man, I’m hungry.

No wonder Harold’s taken to smoking.

Location: 11PM yest, on my couch, talking to Constellajen
Mood: optimistic
Music: She said to come claim what was mine So down I fell

dating personal

Too old


Don’t think I can write anything better than I wrote last year for him.

Her: Logan! You’re too old to date so much.
Me: (sighing) Tell me about it.

It rained all weekend. Go out late Friday. Usual twirl.

Went to a BBQ Saturday with a friend from church and she and I spend the day lounging on Roosevelt Island. Lived here my whole life and have never been – the tram was out so I’ve still never been on that. See a purple dog and get drenched on the way back. Later that night, see HEI and her friends for drinks.

I decide to get off that online dating website cause: (a) don’t have the time for it, (b) feel bad not responding to people, and (c) am tired of the disappointing and the being disappointed. So I go and delete all the emails I’ve gotten in the past month. But one from a pretty cake decorator stands out so I write:

My number’s 917.555.4810. Why don’t you text me as if we met last night so that we can say, quite honestly, that we met last night, I emailed you and then we texted back and forth for a bit. Because that’s what young singltons do in the big city, I think.

She does and we do all weekend. End up grabbing coffee on Sunday.

Here’s the thing: vegetarian. Not even pescatarian – full-on vegetarian. I oftentimes wonder if I’m part of some cosmic joke. But she has an easy laugh and a Georgia accent so we’ll see.

Not looking forward to work – I haven’t told most of you this but all my employees quit on me three weeks ago. Now one of them wants to come back.

After church on Sunday, Christianne¬†and I walk home. We’re both waiting for our blue sky to come back and stay.

Location: the rent’s, getting ready for work
Mood: determined
Music: like seein’ you in my neighborhood I like the way you dress
dating personal

Oddities on our toes

Location: on a blue couch with a pretty friend and a glass of rum
Mood: getting sotted
Music: if I stay I’ll be alive Then choke on words

Life’s fulla these little oddities that keep us on our toes.

Heartgirl’s elsewhere. Funny thing is that Paul and I were supposed to be in the exact same place at the exact same time. But it’s too coincidental to be believable and I’m busy so Paul’s there by his lonesome.

Heartgirl thinks I talk too much about my dating life. But going with the theory that all your life’s problems can be divided up into health, wealth and relationships, it’s really all I got. My work life’s…complicated. I can’t legally talk about mosta it. Health-wise, I either play with pointy things or roll around with men wearing tight clothes and padding.

Wait – that didn’t come out right.


I finally have drinks with the Blue-Eyed Girl around the way. Late in the night, she tells me she found my blog. I must change my name.

She’s very cool but says that she wasn’t one of the cools kids in high school. Kinda weird that all these pretty girls I meet were never one of the cool kids in high school. I think they’re lying. Or all the cool kids became dorks and the dorks became…well, us.

HEI’s got a guy that’s sweet on her visiting from outta town soon so we meet up for dinner. We grab sushi today cause she says that whenever she grabs sushi with a guy, he exits her Venn Diagram. I tell her we gotta do it cause that’s ridiculous and, besides, I’m not gonna.

I’m not gonna cause I’m so tired of everyone exiting mine.


Value vs. Price

There’s a difference between Value and Price

Her: Do you like girls, Logan?
Me: (laughing) Why do you care?

Thursday, soak in HEI’s eyes over coffee and homemade yoghurt; again on Sunday over yellow rice and black beans.

Friday, I’m supposed to meet with the girl from last week but was stuck up round Spring Valley so we reschedule for the following week. On the way down to Hoboken, a client slips her number into my shirt pocket. I don’t keep it. There aren’t enough hours in a day.

3AM, Saturday morning, I’m sitting on a Gramercy stoop with a girlie who’s, quite literally, crying on my shoulder.

You know the difference between value and price? Price is whatever you say something is; the price of a glass of Cruzan Single Barrel Aged Rum is about $14 in the big city just because that’s what the pretty bartender says. Sometimes, if I smile just right at her, it’s $11. That’s just the price.

The value of a glass of Cruzan Single Barrel Aged Rum after a long summer day is…well, a lot more than $14. I tell the girl on the stoop to stop crying cause she’s confusing the two; someday, someone’ll see all she’s worth. Then I tell her about my two rules, say goodnight and take the long walk home.

3AM, Sunday, see Heartgirl in the sweltering heat of NYC and I also tell her about my two rules over a candlelit table. She looks at me, takes my face in her hands and pulls me into her green eyes.

Her: (whispering sweetly) Oh Logan…you’re so…dumb.

That sounds about right. We both laugh. I hail her a cab on 2nd Avenue and she’s gone in two lights.

I check my phone, delete a few things and take the long walk home again. There aren’t enough hours in a day.

Location: 20:00 yest, cooling in the cellar
Mood: so…freaking…hot
Music: Strolling the street we’re strangely complete



Location: 21:34 yest, grocery shopping w/a pretty lady
Mood: proud
Music: I’m happy for you I think I’m gonna take that drive

Breaking with tradition, the Sexologist/SX’s real name’s Jill McDevitt. She owns a sex novelty shop called Feminique Boutique in Philadelphia.


My religion says, quite plainly, that there is a separation of church and state. Only bad things can come if the two mix.

History’s borne this out: The Crusades, the Inquisition, State terrorism – all tangible examples of religion used as a sharp object with the obvious results. Religion’s a shield. It’s never been a good sword.

More importantly though, it’s counterproductive; religion with government strengthens government but kills religion. In Europe, where tax is still levied to pay for churchs, belief’s at an all time low.

Here in America, where religion is not allowed into government, a whopping 50% of the population believes. For the good of religion and people, the god and government should never mix. Love of god, when forced, isn’t love at all. Love of anything, when forced, isn’t love at all.

I bring this up cause Jill’s being sued by the local priest; he wants to protect the children – despite her being in full compliance with local laws.

Personally, I want neither a priest nor the government protecting my children’s moral constitution – when I get ’em, I’ll protect them just fine, thank you. Also, it’s ludicrous to have the choices of adults dictated by the possibility that a child’s sensibilities may be affected. That’s why we have parents. If you’re in the area (or even if you’re not) here’s a petition.

As for Jill and me, our Venn Diagrams separated not that long ago but she dropped me a line recently and it was good to hear from her. It’s always good to hear from people from your possible pasts, yeah?

Y’know, I met her on a random Saturday night a while back. Let’s see what happens this Saturday night.