Yahtzee

This particular weekend had been a long time coming--Fidel was in town and staying with me for the weekend. Now as I have said before, we used to cause quite the ruckus in high school and our last outing (running from the kid who threatened to beat us) in DC after our failed bro scavenger hunt was all I had hoped it would be. This weekend also brought about some rowdy times. I met Fidel at the bus late on Friday night. It was rainy and I was pissed--it was foiling our plan to go the beer garden and meet bros. We decided that we might as well truck back into the city and search for some bars indoors. I decided the East Village would have an assortment of men for us to choose from. After wandering for a bit we chose B bar because the line wasn't quite as horrifying as some of the others. As soon as we stepped into it we made a friend. The kid in front of us began to chat and after learning our names decided to share that his little cousin has the same name as Fidel. Slightly creepy. But we decided to keep chatting him up as his friend was very attractive. We eventually parted ways and Fidel and I surveyed. The bar was packed with finance bros, all in the same uniform (checkered shirt and either salmon pants khakis). Many of them were accompanied by monstrously tall girls in wedges. I was immediately annoyed as I had decided to not wear my wedges that night and Fidel and I seemed like midgets in comparison to them. I was also having a hard time drinking, as I was still recovering from the weekend before. While I was trying to keep a drink down, Fidel began to chat with another dude. He was Polish (that is, Polish like me) and from the same town as BK and JW. We'll call him Yahtzee and he was pretty cool and also had a weird roomate (he showed us a picture he had taken of a note she had put on the final toilet paper roll in their bathroom that said "last roll"). We ended up chatting with him for a good part of the night, but I was starting to get the creepy feeling that he was interested in both of us, if you know what I mean. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and when I returned he in Fidel were involved in a full-on makeout session. Luckily my friend High School had just texted asking if I was out. I commanded him to meet me and to my surprise he did. At this point the decision was made to move on to another bar. All of us-- Yahtzee was coming with. Fidel was not happy with this, as she was hoping to find another makeout candidate, but there was no losing him now. He led us down into the Lower East Side to an Irish place. We walked in, ordered shots, and headed to the basement where some lively dancing was taking place. I decided immediately that I was not going to be involved in any of this, as it was not my scene. Yahtzee agreed with me and after a bit we headed out to get food. He had been raving about some burger place and I housed mine in about 15 seconds. After we finally parted ways with him and after a failed attempt to get Fidel to go back with him, he disappeared into the night, never to be heard from again. High School joined us for our walk back to the subway and the three of us walked through the streets laughing and screaming. We were all from Cuse and that is a pretty strong bond. I also almost had a heart attack when High School almost stepped on a pancaked pigeon in the middle of the road and not two streets later, a flattened rat. Apparently the two of us have a tradition--we have seen every type of NYC vermin flattened in the road. Fidel fell asleep during our long subway ride back home (only 16 stops!) and High School and I chatted until his stop. When Fidel and I emerged from the tunnel we were surprised to see that it was light out. Our night had been successful.

The next night we had a party scheduled. It was being hosted by one of Ibanker's friends and one of the guys I had met in the Balkan European country last summer. Ibanker would not be attending and I felt a little strange about going to one of his friend's parties without him even though I knew I shouldn't. After a nap Fidel and I awoke to get ready. We had had a long day wandering the Upper East Side, shopping and stumbling into one of Central Park's Summer Stage concerts (a Latin band, perfect for Fidel). Luckily we were now relatively refreshed and listened to Evacuate the Dancefloor and David Guetta on full-blast while getting ready. I chose a romper and some heels, Fidel an infamous black dress and we knew we were looking good. This was confirmed when walking across the subway platform, two guys got up and followed us. They began to chat with us and we continued on the train. One was blone and kind of tooly and the other just seemed very drunk. They were amusing though and it quickly turned into the best/worst subway ride I have ever had. The boys asked where we were headed. We told them a party in Union Square of a friend I had met in the Balkan European country. The other friend answered loudly that he loved that country. He then just as loudly stated that his favorite thing to do there was masturbate. Fidel and I looked at each other in disbelief and the Tooly friend interjected and began to ask us some normal questions. In mid-convo with Tooly we began to smell something extremely foul. I turned to Fidel and she looked horrified. She informed me that it was the friend--he had just farted and she had heard it. He sat there looking innocent until Tooly called him out on it. He smiled and proceeded to lift his legs up, with a glimmer in his eye. I couldn't believe this was actually happening--I was disgusted but also laughing. The rest of the subway car looked horrified, including the two Asian women sitting next to Farts. He began to speak in broken Chinese to them to warm them up. I couldn't tell if it worked since they were laughing so hard. We got off at Union Square and the boys followed us. We were a little afraid they would try and come to the party with us but luckily they knew better. I gave Tooly my number when he asked figuring they could have something amusing for us later.

The party was pretty good, but not quite as epic as I had hoped. The finance guys there were pretty nerdy, so the pickings were slim. They did have an ice luge that was giant boobs which was good, though I refused to partake. More for the fact that I would have to take a vodka shot than for the boobs. I also learned after we left that they threw this said luge out the window. This is the friend of Ibanker, who once on a trip we took to McDonalds, wastedly ordered 40 chicken mcnuggets with the intention of putting the ones he didn't eat in the fridge. So in other words, I am not surprised that the icy boobs took a flying leap. I'm just glad no one died. Fidel and I spent the party drinking an unhealthy amount of punch and chatting with dudes, including the party's host, Yahtzee. He has the same name as the man we had met the night before-a Polish name, which I thought was uncommon but evidently is not. At the end of the night Fidel and I took our leave to see what other adventures we could find. We headed to a bar I knew in the area, and it was lame. Because of this and the fact that we were drunk and tired we ended up getting into an arguement, were mad for about 10 minutes then quickly forgot about it. We cut our losses, headed back to Queens and indulged in a delicious gyro from the diner.

The next day, having barely recovered, we trecked back into the city to get some shopping in before Fidel's bus departed. After a horrific experience standing with the masses in the heat (and an unsuccessful attempt to sneak Fidel on an earlier bus) she was finally able to board. We bid our goodbyes pleased with our weekend. And to second that, later in the evening I received a text from Tooly asking if I wanted to get drinks that week. YAHTZEE!

A Very Varied 4th of July Weekend

This weekend ran the gamut of things to do in NYC. The first night I was scheduled to see a DJ on Governor's Island. WHAT could be more patriotic??
I was super excited since this is the DJ I had tried to see with Hipster a few months back. I had convinced GF to come with me and I knew it was going to be a good, yet rowdy time, as it always is with GF. I was also determined to not get as wasted as the previous Friday night with him, but that plan went out the door as soon as we found out the set started much earlier than we originally planned for. After work (we did not get out early the Friday before 4th of July, wtf??) I rushed home, changed into my hammer pants and half shirt, housed half a plate of spaghetti and rushed over to GF's on the LES in record time. Upon arrival he had a bottle of Stoli raz waiting for me and made me chug a glass of an extremely strong Stoli raz and soda. I almost gagged multiple times but figured I didn't want to buy drinks on the island. GF is pretty hardcore and can drink a ton so in the cab he busted out two water bottles with more of this concoction. I drank what I could without vomitting while we were standing in line for the ferry but luckily had to throw it out before boarding. We chatted with some kids about house music until we arrived. It was awesome...there was sand and light up palm trees everywhere and THE Paul Van Dyk was already well into his set. The alcohol hadn't hit me yet so of course I guzzled the drink GF handed me. What a fail. We walked over to join the crowd in front of PVD. I was pumped to finally be seeing him in person, plus he's German so that added to it. Few things in this world actually excite me--Europe, Djs and free food are pretty much the only guarentee. So seeing a European DJ with basically no food caused my excitement to go terribly wrong. Awhile into the set I felt myself teetering. I felt GF grab on to me but it was too late. I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. He picked me up and supported me but my knees were like spaghetti--he could only hold on to me for so long. He decided it was time for us to leave, me whining and stumbling the whole way. I was officially that girl, which I very rarely am. We took the ferry back, which I have no memory of (though I'm sure it wasn't that memorable). GF apparently took me back to his place, deposited me and went back out. I woke up several hours later, feeling like death and confused as all hell, before stumbling to the bathroom and passing back out. I had been waiting forever to see PVD and I saw him for maybe an hour and a half before my night ended. Fail. I repeat FAIL.
GF doesn't make it out of this night scott free though. He went to his fav gay bar and continued drinking until he was almost to my state. He took a cab back to the apartment and couldn't figure out how to swipe his card. He decided payment was unneccessary and bolted with the cabbie yelling after him. Once inside his gate GF waved him away, went inside and proceeded to pass out naked on his bed with the lights on and the door open.
Needless to say neither of us was in very good shape the next day. I was unable to leave GF's apartment until 6pm that evening (roughly 24 hours after the travesty had begun). I had to cancel plans with an intern who was returning to Hungary a few days after and I wasn't able to see her before she left. Another huge fail. The only good part of the whole experience was watching a few minutes of My Big Fat Gypsy wedding which may be my new fav show. When I was finally able to crawl out of bed I got some Chinese food with GF's roommate, ate about 4 pieces and took the subway back to my apartment where I promptly passed out.

I had to wake up early the next morning to catch the Jitney to East Hampton. Luckily I was feeling much better than the previous morning and I was very pleased at the service on this bus line, which differs significantly from the Greyhound. I was meeting my friend EC who was visiting her aunt and uncle's house and invited me out for the day. I was very excited to be getting out of the City and wanted to get extremely tan. Unfortunately the weather was not cooperative so we were forced to endure the other pleasures East Hampton has to offer. Mainly, people watching. It is just spectacular, in a sickening sort of way. The best NY accents I have ever heard in my life, lots of plastic surgery and designer bags. I pretty much hated every girl there who was around my age. But I love going to new places and it was great to see EC who has recently moved to the Midwest (and as a sidenote at least I was able to see the Hamptons at all, since of course Ibanker never followed through with his invitation....douche). Her family was also great. They had a big nice house (the exact opposite of my small dirty apartment) and gave me lots of food. Her uncle was super Italian and was wearing a purple shirt. Her grandmother was super Irish and told me not to get too drunk (I swear I didn't tell her about the dj incident). Her mother took us to lunch and then to see the Pollock/Krasner house and on the way there got a bit lost. She went to pull in the parking lot of a restaurant to ask a Latin worker for directions. At the last minute she changed her mind because "he probably didn't speak English anyway", which caused EC to almost loose it and me to as well, but from laughing. It was a lovely day that involved minimal alcohol, relaxation and girl time, which was exactly what I needed.
I took the Jitney back to NYC late that night and stumbled off the bus at 59th and Lex half-asleep. After a day spent in the Hamptons, New York seemed especially dirty. This was not an illusion. On my way to the subway I walked by a giant pile of garbage and heard a rustling. I was mildly concerned. Before I knew what was happening a colony of rats emerged from the bags and ran across the sidewalk directly in front of me. It was like a tumbleweed of rats--there must have been at least 15 of them and their tails were flapping everywhere. I remained perfectly still and tried not to panic. When I saw an opening I sprinted through it as quickly and quietly as I could, terrified that they would run across my feet. I made it through, and dodged into the subway stairwell, absolutely disgusted. My greeting back to New York.
The next day was the 4th and I had no solid plans. Since it was roughly 140 degrees out I knew I had to come up with something quick to get out of my deathtrap apartment. Luckily CB texted with plans for a hotel rooftop party. The catch was that it was old-time themed. Like 40s and 50s. I was concerned but decided that a new dress I had could possibly pass for this. Except when I put it on I discovered the zipper was broken. After a moderate meltdown where I debated not going, I finally decided that I couldn't bear to spend the afternoon avoiding my roommate so I settled on a very modern romper and wedges. CB, her friend and I took the subway to the Upper West Side where we met her other friend across the street from the hotel. She announced that she had some whiskey we could drink before going in. I still hadn't quite recovered from my Friday so refrained. The other girls agreed though and instead of pulling out the water bottle I expected she whipped out an entire bottle of Wild Turkey and took a swig right on the sidewalk. They passed it around then left it as a gift for a lucky homeless person.
We made our way into the hotel and took the elevator to the rooftop. There was an old-timey band playing and we decided that the singer was a perfect cross between Steve Buscemi and John Waters. I enjoyed one $15 cocktail and nursed it for half the night. It was a another nice, low key night with spectacular people-watching and an equally good view. After a couple hours we fought our way through the crowd where we could watch the fireworks (not bad 15 floors up) and afterwards fought our way onto the subway where we all headed back to Queens.
So my 4th of July weekend mixed some very unique, very NYC crowds--the house/guido crowd at PVD, the Sunday Hamptons crowd, and the old-fashioned/hipster crowd on the actual 4th.
Nowhere else but New York....

Rollercoaster

Things with the Ibanker were going up and up and then suddenly plummeted down, as is the pattern of our entire "relationship". But first....

This particular Friday night I had invited my dear friend GF to be my date to the private opening of an exhibition at the museum where I worked. I knew he wasn't the biggest art fan but the events are fun and always make for good people-watching. We agreed to meet at a certain time on a certain corner--GF was late and finally revealed that he had been at the nearby Chirpin' Chicken. He was like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar . We walked towards the museum and planned our night out. His roommate had some friends in town who wanted to go out so the plan was to meet up with them after the event. Of course this event turned out to be the very worst for a non art lover. Contemporary, Minimalist Asian sculpture. Essentially rocks placed in very specific ways. I thought it was cool, if not a bit underwhelming but GF walked through the entire thing clucking his tongue and informing me that he could make that. I chuckled because before even walking in I knew that would be his reaction.

After enjoying some wine we headed to the nearest Duane Reade to buy some drinks for our next stop--his roommate's friend's apartment in the East Village. We were low on time so we decided to crack open our douces of Heineken on the subway. GF's first time boozing on the subbers and admittedly, my second. I wasn't quite sure what to expect out of this gathering but when we arrived I was pleasently surprised. Everyone was cool, just sitting around drinking and chatting. I had another beer and not long after someone busted out the 4loko. It was all downhill from there. I drank one and have minimal memories of the first bar. In fact when I woke up the next morning I wasn't sure we had gone to more than one bar. I remember a few scences from the place but for the most part it is a haze. Very healthy. But apparently I was having perfectly cogent conversations, about lord knows what. I am fairly certain that I was trying to buddy up to one of the guys in the group, the roommate's friend. This must have worked a little because I know he bought me a Corona at the karoake bar we went to next and we performed a duet to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot". I also sang "I Saw the Sign" with GF and apparently got a random girl's email address. At the end of the night GF dragged me to a pizza place down the street where we made friends with some guys from Boston next to us. When we arrived back at GF's apartment I was very excited that his other roommate was out of town and I had his large bed all to myself. I briefly debated inviting the friend to share it with me but luckily I passed out before that offer could be made.

In the morning I waltzed out the room to find GF still passed out. I sat for awhile with the roommate and the friend trying to quiz them on where we had gone the night before. Not getting much of a response I decided it was time to head home. I walked with the two of them to the subway and had a flash of deja vu to the first night I went home with Cute Guy and left in the morning with he and his friend. This intensified when I received a text from Ibanker asking if I wanted to meet for brunch. I debated but decided to go even though I looked like death. I really questioned this decision as I walked down the subway platform and a guy in a group of Bosnian teenagers whispered to the others, "Wow she looks really bad". I inwardly cursed them but there was no turning back now.

I took the subway to the West Village and wandered around lost. After a few minutes I somehow crossed paths with Ibanker and I tried to look like I knew exactly where I was going. We walked to the place and of course it was much too nice for what I wearing (80s denim skirt). Though I knew I shouldn't, I ordered a mimosa. I didn't feel so bad when Ibanker drank 4 to my 1 (did I mention he has a drinking problem??). We chatted and had a nice brunch though and he said that he had friends that were heading to a boat bar for the afternoon. I was enticed as I had been wanting to try this bar but knew I couldn't stomach an afternoon being so gross. I said that I would head home and shower and meet them later. And this is what I did. I showed up to the dock and there was a massive line. For once Ibanker's schmoozing didn't work on the bouncer and we were forced to wait in it. We eventually made it on board and joined the group. Apparently Ibanker only knew his friend who was in town with her Australian boyfriend, who had the worst teeth I've ever seen. No accent can make up for that. The rest of the people were her friends that he had never met. They were ok but I felt a little out of place. It was all couples, though Ibanker had been acting much more couple-y lately. We stayed for quite awhile and even though my stomach was feeling a little churny from drinking hungover in the sun all afternoon I agreed to join everyone for dinner at a bbq place. I was informed that it was the same level as Dinosaur BBQ but this was faaar from the case. Although by the time we were actually able to eat I was so filled up with beer that I was only able to pick at some green beans. After dinner we stayed and Ibanker discovered that some of his finance friends were there as well. I knew I had met one at the white t-shirt/warehouse party from months earlier but when he introduced his Asian friend I was fully convinced for a full 30 seconds that it was one of the guys from the Balkan European extravaganza (he is also Asian....whoops). They were accompanied by very done up, very bitchy looking girls. When I made a comment that I wasn't dressed to be hanging out with them Ibanker replied that I was much prettier than them, which was pretty amazing.

My stomach was in knots at this point. I am apparently not hardcore enough to be hungover, drink beer all day, eat bbq and then drink more beer. I told Ibanker I was going to have to leave and to my surprise he accompanied me. When we got back to his place he was very attentive to whatever I needed. I was really beginning to like this.

In the morning I was feeling better so we decided to head to another brunch. We walked over to Greenwich Village and ate at a French place with a patio. At this point we had been together for almost 24 hours, which was unheard of for us. I had every intention of leaving after this but when we finished brunch we discovered that the Pride Parade had already started and we were on the other side of the parade route. Now this parade is intense, especially with NY passing the gay marriage bill. I was pretty excited to check it out--I wanted to see muscley bears in leather chaps. What we got were mostly fat lesbians in spanks. There was limited techno music and it seemed like every trashy person from the Bronx had shown up. I was over it in about five minutes. Unfortunately we were stuck. His apartment was on the other side of the route and there was nowhere to cross. We wandered around for about an hour and a half searching for a route. We came dangerously close to fat men wearing what we will call a "change purse" on multiple occsions. Finally we were miraculously able to hail a cab and had it take us the three blocks we needed to go, where pedestrians weren't allowed to cross. After this we were both fairly traumitized so we bought a tub of ice cream at the bodega and holed up in his room. I had every intention of leaving after the ice cream was finished but then we started watching stupid youtube videos then one of his friends called and wanted to get dinner. I almost had a heart attack when he asked if I wanted to join them. I sure did and since my stomach had finally recovered from the day before, I ordered myself a steak. After dinner I decided it was finally time for me to leave--it was 8pm on a Sunday night and I had basically just spent two solid days with him. I was pretty excited about this and was even more so when he said we would hang out during the week, since he was going to be gone for the next few weekends.

That was the top of the roller coaster. From this it has been a swift decline. We did hang out a few nights later. It was fine but he was much more distant (he didnt even kiss me) and made no mention of his Hamptons invitation. He did invite me to stay over which I was pleased about but just got pissed off in the morning when I got hopelessly lost in his neighborhood again and was 20 minutes late to work. And the real kicker was a few nights ago when I was out for happy hour with some girls I worked with. I invited him out, he said he would come and then bailed at the last minute even though I was no more than 10 blocks from where he was.

And this is how it goes with him. It's fun but I never know what to expect. Things go well and then I don't hear from him and then all of a sudden I will after I've almost written him off. I have no idea how this roller coaster ride will progress but sometimes I grow worried that it is going to derail and I am going to fly out. Or maybe I will be the one to put a halt to it. I am not sure but for now I guess I will ride it out until my patience is up.

Mermaids and Men

This was my first weekend back in NYC after 3 in a row out of town and I was ready to party. But of course come that Friday night there was nothing going on. On a whim I decided to text Charlie Kelly, from Ultra, whom had very randomly sent me a facebook message inviting me out during one of the weekends I was away. He responded that he was bartending at a bar in Midtown and that I should come on out. I was ready except I could find no one to go with me. I texted almost every single person I knew in NYC but everyone was staying in or out of town. I even debating heading over there alone but decided that was just way too creepy. I ended up staying in and feeling like a huge loser knowing I had missed my chance to hang out with Charlie Kelly (and infuriating MM and AD from Ultra). Not a good way to start off my first weekend back in town.

Luckily the next morning CB texted asking if I wanted to go to the Mermaid Parade. A pleasant surprise. I had read about this earlier in the week--it's a sort of makeshift parade on Coney Island where people make random floats and wear an assortment of mermaid/nautical themed costumes and march in a parade. Anyone can join in and it sounded both tacky and awesome. I met CB on the N train so we could ride the length of the line to Coney Island together. During the ride she explained to me that the other night the guy she had been seeing for a short (yet intense) time had decided they should take some time apart, which is why she hadn't gone out the night before. I felt bad for her, especially since she had a similar thing happen just a few months earlier. I also felt slightly guilty that I had a date that night--with who else, but Ibanker. I had been very excited when he had texted me the previous Thursday night asking if I wanted to get dinner on Saturday. But now I was wary and annoyed with him. During our texting from the night before he informed me that his bed wasn't set up in his new apartment yet. I told him he was welcome to come to my place in Queens (of course never thinking he would) and he shot my offer down with a fairly rude text back. It upset me and I debated canceling our date but decided that since it is impossible to tell tone via text that I would give him the benefit of the doubt.

I was trying to get the comment out of my head so that I did not ruin our date that night and the Mermaid Parade definitely helped. Toooons of fat people and gay guys in very flamboyant themed costumes, marching in unison was defintely a distraction. So was the scuzziness of Coney Island, what a dump. It was trashy and creepy and I felt very far from New York City. This did not detour most of the people in the city though, from coming out to witness the event--it was absolutely packed and took us forever to push through the crowds to get anywhere. Anywhere being the Nathan's hot dog stand. As soon as CB had mentioned one on the train, a little hot dog had been dancing in my mind. Of course the line was outrageous but I was willing to wait. When I finally made it to the cashier I went to town--a hot dog, large cheese fries and old-fashioned lemonade all for me please. After feeding my face I waited with CB so that she could meet up with her friend. And just her luck, while standing she spotted none other than the other guy who had broken things off with her. A twist of the knife. I was ready to run down the street but she stood there calmly and ignored him as he walked by. They had both clearly seen each other. This made me worried for the time I run into Cute Guy (I just know I will)--to me it seems even worse to say nothing!

After that awkward moment CB met her friend and I parted with them to get back on the train to head all the way to the other end of the N so that I could get ready for my dinner. I had of course chosen my outfit ahead of time and when I was all ready to go I decided that I was looking good. Short, yet classy dress, with wedges and blue Longchamp. I headed back to the subway knowing that I would be getting some looks. I put my bitch face on and looked at no one while on the platform. A guy and his friend about my age sat next to me on the train. I didn't pay any attention to them of course, as is protocol for me, until he bumped into me. He apologized and then used this as an excuse to strike up a conversation. I had a fairly long ride ahead of me with nothing to do and he was cute so I decided to be amicable. Turns out he was heading to the West Village as well and he offered to escort me to the restaurant since I wasn't sure where it was. On our walk through some streets that were on the darker side I thought that this could potentially be a terrible idea but I decided to throw caution to the wind. On the corner where the restaurant was he directed me and then asked for my number. I gave it to him as I looked around cautiously for Ibanker, though I knew he was already planted at the bar. It probably wasn't the best form to be giving my number to someone right before arriving for a date with someone else but I decided to relish in it anyway.

And as a spoiler--this guy did actually call a couple days later. I missed it and decided I would text him back the next day. Even though I complain about how no one puts effort in to call anymore, it turns out that when it comes down to it I can't do it either. He did respond asking if I'd like to go for a drink sometime, I responded in the positive and I never heard from him again. A slight disappointment but at least I have now been picked up in a random place, which seems quintessentially New York.

The date with Ibanker went well. It was very date-like. A double-date, in fact, with one of his friends from college and her lawyer fiance. Dinner was nice, although I listened more than I contributed to the conversation. At one point Ibanker put his hand on my knee under the table, which surprised me, in a good way. After dinner, the other couple left and we went to a nearby bar where one of my friends that I studied abroad with in Paris ended up meeting us. He had texted me that evening saying he was in town for a concert and I was surprised that he ended up meeting us out. He and Ibanker of course hit it off famously, as they are very similar--both successful, preppy, and stand-up guys. They even knew some of the same people. Friend didn't stay long though and after Ibanker wanted to head back to show me his new place. This also surprised me as I was expecting a big, boozy night out. The said new place was amazing, as I expected. On a quiet street in a nice building in the West Village. His room was literally twice the size of mine and could probably hold at least 2 king size beds, maybe 3. Luckily his bed was set up by now (he had apologized for the Queens comment earlier in the evening which I appreciate but haven't forgotten) but his curtains weren't. He had ghetto-rigged some towels across the two but apparently did not have enough. Across the third window he had hung a trench coat, open and facing the window, so that it looked like a flasher.

But the best part of the new place was this--it is located directly across the street from the building where they filmed the outside of Carrie Bradshaw's apartment in Sex and the City. Now he was pissed about this but I loved it. It was also strangely fitting. We are living in New York and go out together (but not yet establishing if we are a couple). He is well-off, elusive and kind of a dick (Mr. Big!). I write about us. And now he is living across the street from the Sex and the City house!

In the morning we went to a nice brunch around the corner. I tried to ignore the fact that upon our arrival he waltzed right in, completely ignoring the line of people waiting ahead of us and were seated. After I went home and on the train decided that I was pleased with his behavior. He had also asked if I would be interested in coming out to his Hamptons share for a weekend (yes, yes I had been waiting for this!). I actually was kind of sad to leave him. This also surprised me.

In order to take my mind off of it I tried to recruit someone to go to the Beer Garden with me, since the weather was beautiful. Surprisingly, the person who agreed was Prom. I hadn't seen him since one of my first weekends in NYC where we had gone out and which led to my one and only date with pseudo-guido. Anything was better than sitting around my apartment and he didn't end up annoying me like the last time. We sat for a couple hours drinking and having decent conversations. He had ultimately found out about my date with pseudo-guido. And he had seen him a couple weeks earlier--apparently pseudo-guido wouldn't even look at him, which I found amusing. So Prom was now ok in my book and I decided I would be willing to hang out with him again. A surprisingly successful weekend....