24 6 / 2013
24 6 / 2013
Recap: Date with someone who looked 12, drinks, more drinks, no dinner, lesson learned (my tolerance can kick your tolerance’s ass), date pukes, passes out, is rushed off in an ambulance. New gay man friend and I frolic with minimal concern. Debauchery ensues.
I’m in “pieces.” Maybe the most literal way I’ve ever said those words. It’s the name of the bar we’re in. I get cash and become completely enthralled by this kid’s vampiresque charm and good looks. I become the newly legal’s sugar mama. Newly legal, though? Aren’t vampires always like 367 years old anyway? I’m on to you Twilight.
“Let’s go to splash!” He shouts. Ok, because you’re so young and handsome, and I intensely long for a gay man friend with my sense of humor but better fashion sense, to go through my closet and say “yes, no, no, gross, yes, love ya betch” but still be able to understand my man-ish ways and over the top sarcasm.
I pay for the cab to splash. Ok. This kid is really wasted. Oh no…. The bar sounds awesome as we wait in line outside. I had heard about splash before from a gay man from LA whose neighbors are LMFAO. Not kidding. I knew it was going to be good. As I dance my way to the bouncer, the drunk kid is denied.
Hefty Black Bouncer: “Sir, you’re too drunk to come inside.”
Twilight: “But it’s my birthday.”
HBB: “Happy Birthday. You’re too drunk to come inside.
Me: “Ok, thank you.”
Twilight: “But it’s my 21st birthday.”
HBB: “You’re too drunk to come inside.”
Me: “What if we took a walk around the block and came back?”
HBB: “If you take a walk around the block and come back sober, then sure.”
Pouty Edward throws a wee tantrum. Let’s walk, Edward. I feel this is a sign I should check on the helpless victim I put in the hospital with an alcohol induced coma. I’m also hoping to God this doesn’t happen to a second person.
As we walk maybe a doorway, Edward says, “Let’s go back. He didn’t even look at my ID, maybe he won’t remember us.”
Within seconds, Edward starts walking back to the bouncer. Come on, guy. Denied yet again, this time with an additional hefty white bouncer. I have no business trying to get into a gay man bar twice within minutes on Wednesday night. None. As we walk, Edward hits on a strapping gentleman who somewhat resembles Ice Cube and gets a tip for a new gay man bar to go to. The Ritz! I had gone to this bar a little while back and fell in love with a trannie. Her name was Sasha. Of course it was. The cab drops us off about a block down, mind you we’re on restaurant row in the theater district. On our walk, Edward being the silly young boy he is, pees on Broadway Joe’s restaurant’s front patio. Sirens. Fuck my life. Literally. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Heart palpitations. Cops call Edward out. Shit. The cop begins going through a number of questions with him. Edward is snapping back. Fuck fuck fuck. Is he going to get arrested? Can I get arrested by association? Omg omg omg, it’s only Wednesday and I have work tomorrow. Luckily, the interrogating cop was nice enough to only give Edward a summons. After Edward announces “Whatever, I have tons of money,” I’m slightly appalled that I’ve been paying for stuff all night. Man, I really just want people to like me, I guess?
The bar was fun, but nothing notable. I felt a little out of place then started realizing… I’m a horrible person. Fuck you, conscience. As I prepare to tell Edward I’m leaving, Edward is ripped out of the bathroom half naked mid-boning. Aaaaand, done.
I leave, Edward follows. I drop Edward off on 33rd and 6th by the Path train to Hoboken. Good luck, kid, and until we meet again. I proceed to text the 12 year old and 411 all local hospitals. You see, it kicked in for me that the 12-year-old was going to wake up in a hospital without recollection of how or why, in a city she hardly knows, with no one there. I couldn’t put that weight on my shoulders. After I get an “I’m ok” text, I kindly ask her, “What the Fuck??” She calls me and I hear her asking people around her, “Excuse me… where am I?” Jesus H. She tells me she’s at Bellevue, I pick her up, hospital band and all, and take her back to her apartment. She pays for me to take an Uber car home. I’m in bed. It’s 5am. One for the books, huh?
20 6 / 2013
No way. Shut up. Stop it. Nope.
Date 1. ……….
So the day I signed up for OKC, I started banter pretty quickly with one person in particular. Wasn’t necessarily “my type” per say, however the commentary and quick wit worked for me. That’s pretty much all I need. Like I said regarding my ‘relationship to single life’ transition, it’s all about distraction. If nothing else, a friendship can come out of it, or I just never see this person again. No big deal.
So upon meeting this new prospect, her suggestion was “Let’s meet for coffee.” Sure. The day before the meeting, I’m comfortable enough since we have been texting on a daily basis, to announce that I’m basically a degenerate and and coffee isn’t going to cut it for me on a first date. Cocktails it is.
Yesterday being the big night, I suggest an outdoor bar where we can enjoy the nice weather. Of course I’m a half hour late (fair warning was given), but when i get off the subway I get the text saying she’s there. No, wait, saying “Hi, I’m here. I’m the creep in the corner by myself in a maroon shirt. I look like I’m 5. See you in a few.” She wasn’t kidding. This preteen woman child, actually looked extremely young. Face was accurate to pictures, so I wasn’t catfished. Luckily. Actually very pretty face, edgy haircut, masculine energy, which I like. This masculine energy, however, was like pre-pubescent masculine energy.
So we get a table outside and I order us, 2 margaritas. Conversation is fine, I get awkward and don’t make eye contact, talk a lot, and with my hands and a staten island accent. We talk about work, and relationships, and things about her life that actually took me by surprise. (Not the point of the post.) She was extremely fidgety, not unlike a 7 year old boy who couldn’t sit still - feet on the chair, arms around knees, Indian style (I don’t think that’s PC anymore… criss cross, applesauce?), slouching, sitting up, hanging from a table umbrella, laying across the table, you get the gist. Anyway, 2 more margaritas. I’m thirsty and I’m making fun of her for not keeping up. 2 shots from the waiter, 2 more margaritas. Tiny ones! This leaves her at 4 and me at 3. I feel a small buzz, but clearly I need a horse tranquilizer to reach normal people’s intoxication limits.
With her being new to New York, I feel I need to show her some stuff. Stonewall is historical! We get to the bar, beer for me, patron and pineapple for the toddler. Shots, please, barkeep! Patron it is. The bartender made us a bowl of popcorn topped with milk chocolate M&M’s. Bless his heart. Thank you, sir. Fuck dinner! This is fine. With his heavy hand, we actually took 3 shots out of the rocks glass full of patron. We are having a great time! Great conversation, meeting great gay men, just lovely. Drunk conversation sets in. (Not on my behalf because I’m not as drunk.) FYI - she was intimidatingly skinny. Not kidding, a little boy. A little skater-like boy, actually.
Preteen: “I really like you.”
Me: “I’m having a great time too, this is fun!”
Preteen: “No, but I really, really like you. It’s ok if you don’t like me back.”
Me: “How about we just take this one step at a time. Right now, let’s enjoy each other’s company.”
I step away and go to the bathroom, laughing to myself at my life and it’s current position. I’m really not mad about it. When I come out, she is engaged in conversation with a beautiful Edward Cullen looking gay man. We chat, and find out he is also new to New York and it is in fact his 21st birthday. Let’s by this boy shots!! More drinking ensues, one more shot, one more beer. After the shot, the skaterboy and I have more conversation, a slight peck on the mouth. Cayuuute (yet, I kind of feel like a pedophile). Back to Edward Cullen and his fabulous ways. Next thing I know, the youngster that I am on a FIRST DATE with, runs out of the bar. Edward and I share confused glances at one another.
Me: “It’s too soon for me to have to run after her, right?”
Continue with my beverage. After about 10 minutes, I decide to go outside and peek around. Look left, look right. I see no underaged looking person on the street at all. Hear screaming across the street by obviously angry, ethnic women and think, “Oh God.” Run across the street and thank God it was not her, but still… nowhere to be found. Edward is at the doorway and I shrug my shoulders at him. No idea. Did I just get ran out on? Did someone literally just kiss me and run off? Is any of this real right now? Yes. Yes, it is real. And it’s about to get even realer….
A short, stocky doorman of the hotel next door to the bar is escorting a lanky, unstable, deer like, date of mine. Holy balls. I gave her alcohol poisoning.
Doorman: “Do you know her?”
Me: “Kind of?”
Doorman: “She just threw up all over the lobby.”
Me: “Shut up.”
Proof was in the maroon v-neck. Vomit dribble everywhere. I take her lean her in a closed nail salon doorway.
Me: “Holy crap. What just happened? Can I take you to your apartment?”
Preteen boy nods.
Me: “Holy crap. Where do you live?”
Preteen boy is silent, eyes closed, leaning right.
Me: “Ok, we’ll go back to my apartment and you’ll just sleep on my futon, no problem.”
Twilight and Doorman watch and try to help. Preteen like a sack of potatoes goes down, cracking head on the ground. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. EMT SHOWS UP BEHIND ME. Yep. Yes. Yep. Doorman called 911.
4-5 EMT’s are around her asking her questions, asking me questions. I don’t know, this was our first date. What’s her last name? I DON’T KNOW. THIS WAS OUR FIRST DATE. THIS. First date.
Needless to say, she was brought to the nearest hospital. Me, going back and forth on whether I should be going to the hospital or not. Twilight, and both cops (one being someone I know from staten island, awesome. That’s what I need right now) are telling me, you don’t owe her anything and there’s nothing you could do anyway until she comes to.
Twilight: “Just let her go to the hospital and text her. She’s going to feel so stupid tomorrow anyway. Let’s go to the next bar!”
I debate and go back and forth… then I go to the next bar…
(To be continued….)
13 6 / 2013
This is happening. Online dating. I find it to be an admittedly weird, but healthy transition for me from relationship to single life. In the past, one of two dramatically different behaviors would occur every other week.
Week 1 (and odd numbered weeks thereafter):
-purposely listen to DEPRESSING songs that remind me of what I “once had,” causing hysterical crying to ke$ha’s “Harold Song” (Say what you will, that bitch got real.)
Week 2 (and even numbered weeks thereafter):
-do something that I will inevitably end up regretting in the morning(the regrets are two-fold)
1. Drunk dialing the ex
2. Going home with someone I wish I didn’t.
Week 2 regrets eventually bring me back to the actions of week 1, thus becoming a vicious cycle.(As pandora plays “Break down” by Eric Hutchinson. Amazing song, but come on. It’s week 3.)
12 6 / 2013
Well its been about a year since I’ve written. Re-reading my past blogs makes me realize, I don’t really make sense a majority of the time. Do you guys follow what it is I’m trying to say? Because I don’t think I really do.
On the shuttle to work, with Ricardo, my loving, caring bus driver, I realize my life has dramatically changed since I’ve last written anything, with the exception of my everlasting connections with the hardworking Hispanic labor workers. (I just side smiled thinking about Jose, my maintenance/midday Chardonnay man.) Anyway, as we know, I’ve left the horrid job, and have been at a new place of employment for about a year now. I’ve been very happy with the transition, the people, the workload, I just don’t know if I’m exactly standing out- which makes me nervous. However, I think my heart may not fully be in it. I mean.. my heart’s in the paycheck and benefits, but some things just rub me the wrong way. The difference is, I feel guilty about complaining about this place in comparison to the hell hole I was in. It’s work and maybe I’ll feel this way forever because I’ll stick to the mundane activities of adult life and go through the motions that most folks do. I just can’t shake the feeling that I don’t really belong in this world.(*See below) To be continued…
So on the relationship front - I’ve decided to put this to a halt. After being too confused for my own good, wanting unattainable qualities in another individual depending on my mood, and people just being stupid in general, I’ve decided to come back to the world of blogging by recording my intentional and unintentional sexcapades; my rants will still be sprinkled in.
‘Relationships’ wasn’t really a topic of choice the last go around, however, obvious to point out, I was in one for about a year (on and off, stupid) hence my pause in writing (not to mention my lazy/attention deficit persona). Let’s start with the initial introduction of I dabble with both sides of the playing field, one more frequently than the other. I’m not too nervous about it or worried about a self identity crisis or anything, I’m just worried that in the event I fully come out, I’m going to have to explain how things and parts work to my grandmother. At this point, I’m 26 years old, (vomit) it’s really up to me, my call, but I’m not ready to make a decision, I’m not ready to settle until I’m completely, erratically, intensely, consumably, uncontrollably, head over heels in love. Or lust…
23 5 / 2012
I thought this was a great idea for a blog post yesterday. Just that, nothing else. I forgot to post and it’s irrelevant on Tuesday. I also cannot use it next Monday because… Wait for it…. I quit. I finally did it. The problem is, I’m poor! What the hell am I going to do now??
Blanked out for a minute and just stared. This is happening more and more frequently. The bucket list is somewhat happening, and not even intentionally.
I wrote this 4 weeks ago. 4. I guess I got distracted?
In a nutshell, I quit, been broke, got a new job, smiled a little more in my days. Met someone new. Became somewhat smittened. Got annoyed. Realized “someone needs to take a good, hard look in the mirror.” Decided to relax and roll with the punches. I’m pretty laid back, kind of lazy, but i seriously judge too often. It’s never anything major. I will start to just hate someone’s face if they simply agree with the fact that Jennifer Lopez should have a singing career. Easy as that. I don’t know what it is I’m looking for, and realize that I don’t want to be looking for anything at all, I’m just in that stage of my life. I can try and convince myself, but I’m waiting for the connection. The surprisingly intense passion, but the laughing for hours at the most ridiculous things, while a lifelong exchange of witty banter and brief moments of serious, intellectual conversation on non-retarded subjects.
For now though, I’ll continue to be young and moronic. Except Monday through Friday. I’m a real person now.
08 5 / 2012
I have nothing more to complain about. The kid has landed a new job. How you like me now? Although, the misery and bitching is what keeps the writing constant, I realize I just complain for the hell of it, along with the entertainment and laughs it brings me. Screw ya’ll. I guess it’s time to laugh at actual, funny things. The self deprecation thing is getting old. I’m growing up. It’s scary as shit, but I’m pretty psyched about it. I’m sitting in a very awkward position.
After leaving my place of employment, I went a little cray- casually decided to dye my hair “ombre”. Welp… I’m a blonde bombshell. Naturally, my next step was to get a tan. Sure, I’ll go to Florida, Dad. My parents live a lavish life of traveling the globe. They seriously effing deserve it though. Retired P.O.’s going hard these days. Since, I’m in between jobs, why the hell would I not join? (Fo’ free.) So, now, I’m in the Fort Lauderdale condo, lonely burnt Puerto Rican, listening to the kid upstairs opening and closing his closet doors. I have yet to meet this mystery manchild, but I know he drives a black Camero, that I’m pretty positive, is in fact the Bat Mobile.
My sunburn has completely amazed me. I am enviously brown-skinned year round in comparison to my Caucasian friends (no offense, guys) yet somehow, even after applying SPF 30 I have grown to be a blotchy red ROCK LOBSTER on my chest, top of my arms, the line right below my tits and along my bathing suit bottom. Ok. Along the line of the bathing suit can be explained by careless application of sunscreen, however, my dark, brown, tan forehead is completely offsetting my rudolph the red nose reindeer (not to mention inflamed and red along the sides of the nose, as if I fell asleep for months with a Biore strip on my face) and still very pale and white cheeks. This looks awesome.
I’ve decided that there seriously are only a small number of people that entertain me. Seriously, and truly, ENTERTAIN me. I will always be kind. I will always be polite. I will always be nice. If I do not find you funny. I do not apologize for that. At all. Is that bitchy? I seriously find a handful of people funny. I may find some of the things others say funny at times. That doesn’t mean I find you funny enough to be around or talk to on a consistent basis. Although, I do find traits in people that amuse me, but I get bored easily. I either sound like a horrible human being, or I make no sense at all. It’s late, I’m tired, and hot. Very hot. Sweating.
I don’t have much to say. Partially because this has become less of a private diary since I have told too many people I blog. I’ll get back into the swing of being awkward and ridiculous, I’m sure.
Tiny dancer’s new blog literally had me in tears laughing #cerealthinking
11 4 / 2012
"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." …That sounds like a horrible idea. Why do people give awful advice like this? Only mean girls and mobwives would partake in such misery. I understand the concept but my thoughts are why do you have enemies at all? You’re not a superhero nor is this medieval times. (Although, I would be intrigued if invited to a jousting duel.) I just mean, if people don’t like you, cut your losses. If people are inevitably going to screw you over, take them as a lessons learned, just don’t dwell on it. A lot of time and energy can be wasted over petty bullshit. I’m guilty of it myself, like millions of others. Maybe they are the things you have to go through to come out stronger. Which brings me to my second cliche quote of this post, "if I knew then, what I know now."
I honestly have no rhyme or reason to be writing these things, I’m just letting my thumbs do the talking I guess. My mind goes on tangents and I just let it wander. Maybe some day I’ll have a point to at least one story.