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personal

I’m in

I need a weekend for my weekend

 

Him: All expenses paid. Interested?
Me: What am I an idiot? I’m in.

If I get it (or I don’t) I’ll tell you soon. Friday at the latest.

———-

Was out a lot this weekend. Hazel, Bryson, Gio and I went out till 4AM on Thursday night (when I met this girl) and then my brother was in town for the weekend.

I need a weekend for my weekend.

The Grey-Eyed Girl invited a bunch of us out to a party the other day. It was for an ivy league grad thingy and I assumed everyone there was from NYC.

So I end up spending some time with these two really nice girls. Here’s our conversation after we swap info.

Me: So if you’re 24, I’ve gotta think your friend’s like 18.
Girl1: She’s 28.
Me: (shocked) You’re kidding me.
Girl2: It’s the Asian genes.
Me: (nodding) Nice.
Girl2: So what are you? 24?
Me: (laughing) 34.
Girl2: (shocked) You’re kidding me.
Me: It’s the Asian genes.
Girl2: (nodding) Nice.
Me: So are you here for the birthday party?
Girl1: Oh no, we’re just in town from Boston for the weekend.
Me: (laughing) Of course you are.

Never a dull moment.

Location: underneath a ceiling fan in Queens
Mood: tired but hopeful
Music: been happy lately thinking about the good things to come
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Hit or miss

Met another woman and asked her to draw a picture for me

Her: Will you call her?
Me: Possibly. These thing are hit or miss.
Her: But you got her number, right?
Me: Better.
Her: Better?
Me: I told her to draw a picture of herself. This way, I’ll know which one she is.

Location: 2AM, Sway
Mood: Sotted
Music: That pretty red dress
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Girl with a pretty face vs. A pretty girl

A very strange night to add to my list of very strange nights

 

I crashed this party with some friends including an old friend, Buckley, whom I’ve known for 14 years. He’s a decent fellow. The problem’s that he’s 36 and he still thinks that drinking to excess is somehow cool.

I crash a lotta parties cause I get along with everyone. But Buckley was a slobbering, augmentative drunk. Before I knew it, he was being tossed out by this group of guys at the behest of the birthday girl. It was a whole production with me having to get between them all.

Ugh.

Eventually, we got him into a cab and I walked back with Hazel and Kane to apologize to the birthday girl. I should mention now that the birthday girl has a pretty face.

Here’s the thing. It’s NYC. You can’t go two feet without running into a girl with a pretty face. They’re like a dime-a-dozen. I’m pretty calloused to girls with pretty faces. But as I’m apologizing to her, she’s apologizing back to me. She said, I’m sorry I was being so douchey.

This whole time, everyone is staring at our exchange because I think they all expected some beef. Instead, she and I are smiling and laughing, like we’re old friends. She said I came off as good guy and I told her that I thought she was just really all that.

As we’re talking, she went from being a pretty face to a pretty girl. There’s a very big difference between the two. Like the difference between gold paint and gold.

She invited us to come back in but I told her that we came back purely to apologize. We chatted a bit more before I gave her a hug that she returned. If things were different, I might have given her my number. Then again, the poor girl’s been through enough.

It’s not all the time that people’s insides match their outsides. My ex said mine don’t.

It’s nice to meet someone whose stuff did.

Location: 7:15PM yest, saying hi at church
Mood: tired
Music: we throw parties, you throw knives
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Got a pen?

I’m also meeting a lot of lesbians for some reason

In addition to the Swedish girls, I met a bunch of really attractive lipstick lesbians/bisexuals this past weekend.

Girl 1
Me: Why are you giving me your number?
Her: If you wanna call me, call me, if you don’t, f___ off.
Me: OK. Just to be clear, you mostly like the girlies, yeah?
Her: Yeah, and? (pause) Y’know, gimme back my f____ number.

Girl 2
Her: So what’s your story?
Me: I’m looking for Ms. Right in the big city.
Her: (laughing) Funny, so am I.

The second girl and I have swapped a few emails; she’s in a similar profession. She’s very nice – she’s also a full-on Jewish lesbian. I’m sure she’s a pescatarian from NJ too but I didn’t ask.

Seem to get along with girlies that like the girlies. Modern America.

In the book, Logan’s Run, I’d be 13 years post prime; in the movie, I’d be 4.

Either way, I’m last year’s model.

This week, because of the accident, I did some reassessing. I found out that I was deleted by some people.

And I deleted some people – friends, former loves, acquaintances and about two dozen people I’m embarrassed to say that I just don’t remember.

Some I’ve known for a few days and some I’ve known for 14 years.

I’ve blinked and it’s 2007.07.18. One of you should have called me to let me know that I’m an anachronism.

Sent an email. Even a text. Telegram, maybe?

Something.

———-

Speaking of telegrams, damn that AT&T.;

Here’s 2% of why I hate them; there’s another 98% I could tell you.

Location: 1PM yest., on the BQE to Staten Island
Mood: hella busy
Music: Just get to me I don’t care just get to me

Categories
personal

Wash, lather, repeat

Getting back into the dating world

So, what’s your name pretty lady? (smile, nod, ask if she gets hit on a lot, compliment her (eyes, skin, hair, etc.) ask for number, promise you’ll call, smile again, wash, lather, repeat).

“Olivia, that’s a great name. You’re the first Olivia I’ve ever met. It’s true. Really. Is that really your number? You’re pretty but you lie. I’m going to call it now. (grin – if she smiles at you, smile back. Hate self.).”

At least I’m impressing my friends, like a trick monkey.

Ah, I’ll meet you someday, just you wait. Fate will find you. I’m just working through a few things.

Just you wait.

Location: Bed
Mood: cynical
Music: She does not walk she runs instead
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