He Pooped in My Bathroom

This particular night ended up going in a completely different direction than I had ever anticipated. It started out innocently enough--JM was having her birthday party at some bars in the Lower East Side. She was going to dinner at Spitzer's first, but I was tired and wanted to go home and nap. The night before was spent out with the Pubs, at dinner then seeing another dj at Ludlow Manor. And by seeing I mean making out in a chair next to the rooftop pool (a photog snapped a pic of us, which I have yet to track down). So after I was rested and ready to head out, I met GF and his new roommate at the Back Room until JM was finished with dinner. The Back Room is still filled with as many European tourists as it was over the summer with Little Aussie. We drank our booze-filled teacups and then checked to see where JM was. The answer was not good--Fat Baby. A notoriously B&T club with obnoxious music. How the hell she ended up there, I'm not really sure. But it was her birthday and we had to go. The scene inside was pretty bad, though not as bad as it could have been since it was still early. There was no line to get inside but there was wait to get to the section where JM's party was, since it was being blocked off. We waited for awhile and I grew grumpier. Once we were allowed in and tracked down a waitress to take our drink order (since we couldn't get back to the bar), half of JM's party decided they were going to leave. I was beyond annoyed since we had just fought to get there, and without even meaning to said "fine, go wherever, we will just fucking meet you after" in the bitchiest voice, complete with an eye roll and a little hand wave. Everyone looked at me in surprise and I didn't realize how bad it sounded until I saw GF cringing. Oops. This obviously did not stop people from leaving, but since there were now fewer of us, we were able to work our way to the bottom floor, which had basically no one there. With easy access to the bar, things escalated fairly quickly. My bitchy outburst had sobered me though and I pretty much stayed that way.

Now here is where the night begins to take an interesting twist. I had received texts from both Yahtzee and Slonks, inviting me out to their friend's b-day party at a bar in the East Village. It took me a bit to put two and two together but I figured out that it was for Deux's Rapey Friend. I hadn't seen him since that night and I knew I was bound to run into him sooner or later. I was interested to see if this situation would Slonks would go anywhere, after our post-Atlantic City/pre-Europe psuedo encounter. So I figured I may as well go big or  go home and I decided to make an appearance at the b-day party. Both Yahtzee and Slonks had made this bar sound exclusive, so I was worried about two of the people in JM's party--her wasted friend and her gangster looking date. They could not be entering with us, so like the bitch I can be, I corralled GF and his roommate into a cab yelling at JM and co to follow behind us. No need, since this "exclusive party"turned out to be located at in the bottom floor of an Eastern European restaurant. There were about 15 nerds standing around, most of whom left not long after I got there, including a very drunk Deux and his date. Rapey Friend was also there with his new girl, who looked on as he gave me a hug and said he was glad to see me. Yea, yea, take me to Slonks please. Slonks was pretty drunk, but what else is new and he still seemed pleased to see me. Luckily JM and her party found the place and joined us. Rapey Friend hit on her as he was leaving with his girlfriend and I chuckled to myself. Yahtzee and I of course recounted the Croatia story for everyone who was still present, before I turned my full attention to Slonks. We ended up closing out the bar with JM and her date before emerging out into the night. The plan was to go to another bar but JM decided to head home and left alone with Slonks, I realized how drunk he actually was. I decided pizza was a better option, so we went to the place near my apartment since we were close by. He shoved his face with pizza like a slob and I was not impressed. But he was wasted and subletting all the way out in my old neighborhood in the Shwick, so I felt bad sending him all the way back there. I decided he could just stay over but nothing would be happening between us.
This decision was solidified after he emerged from my bathroom. I walked towards it, since I had forgotten to take my make up off and I heard him say "why are you going there??" in a panicy voice. It was then that I smelled it. A whiff of something foul. He had pooped in my bathroom. Pooped in my bathroom?!! I was immediately disgusted and couldn't even look at him. I went straight to my bed and rolled to the very edge to face the wall. I woke up a few hours later, turned and opened one eye to see Slonks next to me. He was wearing all of his clothes, including his jacket, and was under all the covers. A couple minutes later I heard him wake with a start, hesitate, get up quickly and run out of my apartment. Satisfied  I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I recounted the story the next night at dinner. MM was in town with her friend and Atl had gone with me to meet them at what turned out to be the worst sushi restaurant I've ever been to. We had a good laugh over that story though and my interest in Slonks had been eliminated. I then took MM and her friend out on the town, but was tired and just couldn't get my head in the game. Luckily the three of us had some good convos and a lot of fun making fun at MM's houndstooth-printed pants. But I ended my weekend where it began--at some shitty bars in the Lower East Side.

It's Not For Everyone...

The unfortunate thing about moving to Manhattan are the inevitable houseguests, and I don't mean vermin. Once word gets out that you are living in New York, you are done. People come out of the woodwork and ask to stay with you for a weekend. Some people, like my close friends, I do not mind hosting at all. But with others it's rude. And some people you can't turn down, such as family. I had this realization when my little cousin called me out of nowhere one night. I knew what was coming and there was no way I could fabricate a believable lie quickly enough. So this is how I got stuck with my military cousin and his wife driving up from VA Beach for the weekend. Now, I like my cousin just fine, but we do not have a whole lot in common.I knew this was going to throw a wrench in my plans for the weekend, and more importantly my, ahem, social life. I was also going to have to sleep on our pull-out couch for 2 nights and I was not pleased. But I had to bite the bullet, so after coming home from a terrible day at work, I took them to dinner at my fave German beer garden up the street. My cousin had a giant stein of beer and I thought nothing of it. Afterwards we headed to Ave A to meet up with Russian Rocher, who had very randomly run into JM and her boy toy as well. After vetoing Niagara Bar due to the crowd, we went to Drop Off Service. My cousin bought me a couple beers and we drunkenly gossiped about our family. We stayed for an hour or two before heading home around 2 to go to bed. Definitely not a huge night for me though still relatively fun.

However, it must have been a big night for them. I wasn't thinking about the fact that my 23 year old cousin and his wife, who live in the suburbs, never go out. I pretty much always forget the fact that those who don't live in New York, often times aren't used to going out and drinking the whole night. This was apparent to me at 11:30 the next morning, when I was wide awake and ready to head to brunch and they had not budged. When I peeked in to check on them, there was a garbage can next to the bed and I knew it was over. I waited around for another couple hours and when they still had not moved, I headed out for the day. Atl and I got food, went to the San Genaro fest in Soho and ultimately ended up at a bar. I was off the hook for awhile as the fam was heading to a Yankee's game (of course).

We regrouped later that night and I had no clue what the hell to do with them. GF wanted to meet for dinner and I decided on a not very trendy Thai place near my apartment. One of GF's gay friends was having a bday party at a bar in Soho that night and I was pretty concerned about how the fam would fit in. Luckily they claimed they were tired after dinner so I gave them the keys to my apartment and headed off into the night. This was definitely for the best, as the bar was pretty classy, with bottle service. The pack of gays present were all very attractive and stylish, so my cousin and his Etnie sneakers would have been a bit out of place. After awhile at this place we all went to Botanica bar for a bit, until GF had to call it a night. Upon my exit the gays all told me that I was welcome to hang out with them anytime because I am pretty, which I vainly relished in.

My night was not over though, since Yahtzee had invited me to Los Feliz in the LES. GF was a gentleman and walked me there. There was a huge line out front, but Yahtzee managed to get me in by lying to the bouncer that his friend had a table. I don't even think there are tables at Los Feliz but it worked and I skipped the massive line. He was with a group whom I did not know and he was trying to mack it to one of the girls, who not only did not seem interested but also had a couple other dork admirers present. Yahtzee tried to get me to distract one of them but the guy couldn't hold a conversation for shit and after a few minutes I gave up and ran around the place doing god knows what.

In the end, Yahtzee did not get the girl and the fam left relatively early the next morning. I'm not sure if I exactly showed them a good time in New York, but it's not my fault they can't rally or easily walk up five flights of stairs. Luckily they were there to let me back into my apartment at 3AM and I was able to still go out, so all was not lost.

Freefest Year 2

It was about that time again--Freefest. I had gone the year before and why in hell would I pass up a free festival, especially when M83 was scheduled to play this year. Except first I had some shit to endure, though I was not aware of it yet. A couple days before I was supposed to get on the bus to DC, I was scheduled to have a wisdom tooth pulled. I hadn't thought much about it; I had had two others pulled earlier in the year and although unpleasant they weren't that big of a deal. So I expected the same for this one. I realized later, while the dentist ranked back and forth on my tooth forcing me to endure a horrible ripping pain in my jaw and blood smeared all over my face, that I should have expected the worst. Afterwards I felt like I had survived being tortured. And the next day was even worse--one side of my face had swollen up and I looked grotesque. The next day was not much better and I was forced to go out in public. I was extremely embarrassed and I immediately ruled out Freefest. Except the next day my face was less slightly less grotesque and I changed my mind.
After a bus ride which was almost as bad as the wisdom tooth pulling itself, I decided that I'm too old for bus travel. Luckily JW picked me up which improved my mood, especially because I got to see the cat whom I lived with senior year of college. He and JW and BK all shared an apartment now that they were living back in NoVA. Instead of going out we decided to rest up for Freefest day tomorrow, especially since due to my meds I couldn't drink. At this point I hadn't had a drink in about 5 days, which was probably the first time since I had moved to NYC. I knew that it wouldn't be possible for me to stay in NYC for the weekend and not drink, which was another motivation for Freefest. The next day we set off, with me sporting a huge bun that JW had done my hair up in and some 80s purple sunglasses to accentuate them. My face was basically back to normal which was a huge relief. We arrived at the Fest pretty early, due to a surprising lack of DC-area traffic and met up with some of JW and her new man friend's friends. We caught Portugal the Man' set, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I am also now on the lookout for the lead singer (an adorable little hipster) whenever I go to Brooklyn now, but that's a different story.
We then spent the majority of the afternoon all sitting on a blanket in the sun, watching bands that aren't normally my taste but that I really enjoyed such as Alabama Shakes and Ben Folds. I was satisfied and kept thinking about how much nicer this was than being stuck in the sweaty disgusting crowd at Electric Zoo. I was actually among people my own age! We also witnessed a hilarious yet tragic interaction while sitting.
Scene: Tooly looking dork in a UVA t-shirt wandering around. He goes to lay down in the grass and his chubby girlfriend runs up to him and plops on top of him. She is sitting holding his face and speaking sternly to him while he tries to look past her towards the stage. She isn't having it and grows more heated. She continues to speak, looking very upset, while he continues to ignore. Suddenly she winds up and slaps him. Tool has no reaction. She dismounts and sits next to him in the grass with her head in her hands. Tool says nothing. A couple minutes later they both get up and walk away, to our dismay.
Not long after this, Richard Branson showed up on top of the stage and sprayed a bottle of champagne over the crowd. Just an average Saturday.

Soon, it was time to meet up with MM, Same Name Friend and Raver who had arrived at Freefest late. We wanted to watch Porter Robinson, but it turns out none of us could handle it. The crowd was just too young and sweaty so we watched from the background. I still enjoyed it but I knew I was just too old to be in the midst of it anymore. Then it was time for my highlight of Freefest--M83. I had loved them when I had seen them in the spring and this time was no different. Except we arrived to the stage much later than I had wanted due to multiple food and bathroom runs. We had about 12 people in our group at this point and it was proving difficult to keep us all together. We were forced to split off at the beginning of the set which made squeezing into the crowd easier but it was next to impossible to get anywhere even close to the stage. So I had to make due with the back but JW took care of business as she yelled "BYE" and "Uhuh!" to everyone that tried to get in front of us. At one point she even started physically blocking people with her body which caused them to be utterly confused and me to laugh. M83 was glorious and French just like last time and we were all enjoying it. A sampling:

Back at the apartment that night, JW and I stuffed our faces with carrot cake she had made for her man friend's bday. We watched this video about 12 times in a row, while dancing in our seats and yelling "cake cake cake!" in between mouthfuls.
All it took was a missing tooth, M83 and a weekend away from New York to remind me that I could indeed have fun without drinking.

The Pubs

At the end of September, things took an interesting turn. Maybe I was being rewarded for being good and not going out as much. Or maybe after a few somewhat crappy weekends in a row, things were bound to improve. Either way I was pleased about it.
I had been friendly with a guy at work ever since we traveled to Boston together for a work conference over the summer. Upon our return we would exchange friendly emails, mostly about nightlife and music, and occasionally run out to pick up lunch together. He was the Associate Publisher at my job, which is a fairly high-up position, except he was only  a few years older than me. He was a hipster and a nerd, with a Brooklyn accent and Warby Parker glasses. The combination of all of these things was pretty endearing but I hadn't given it much thought, other than that we were work friends. I also knew that at the conference he had a girlfriend, but as we hung out more was picking up that they were no longer together. We were talking more, especially at work happy hours, and one day I invited myself along with his plans, without meaning to. He was seeing a dj at the Bowery Hotel that night, which was right near my apartment. Of course he said I was welcome so I invited Russian Rocher so it wouldn't seem weird. Except she bailed and apparently his friends did too, since he showed up alone as well. We had a good time chatting and drinking, although we never did see the dj, since it was a work night and I couldn't stay out that late.
About a week later, another coworker, a Russian guy from the IT department, was hosting a bbq at his rooftop in Brighton Beach, for everyone who had worked on a particular project. This included myself and the Pubs. So that Saturday afternoon I trucked out to the bowels of Brooklyn, which took forever (no one bothered to mention to me that the B train does not run on the weekends). I finally made it out there, with my tortilla chips and guac in tow. The rooftop was huge and filled with booze and treats and a super cute Golden Retriever named Byron. My boss was also present, but she is cool as soon as she gets a drink in her so after a glass of Sangria we could all relax. Turns out we did plenty of relaxing as we stayed there for almost 8 hours. We feasted on sausages and grilled salmon and all sorts of other delicacies, all the while taking shots of Russian Standard and Mezcal every 20 minutes (or it seemed like it at least)...

Needless to say, things escalated. Nothing cray, but I spilled fish oil on my boots, my boss was yelling out work gossip and towards the end of the party, the Pubs had disappeared into the apartment for quite awhile. Or so we thought. It turns out that he thought he had gotten too drunk so he pulled an Irish exit and  walked back to the subway. My boss and I were ready to leave so we told him to stay put and we snatched him up so we could all go back together. Since it was only 10 I was ready to make a night of it and when Pubs mentioned he didn't want to go where his friends were going I invited him out with me. He agreed and we ran off the subway in Union Square, with my boss eyeing us suspiciously I'm sure. Yahtzee had invited me out, but he was with the rapey guy I had hooked up with not long ago so I vetoed that. Instead we headed to the West Village to meet up with GF and his friend who was in town. After not being let into Employees Only, we decided to head to Automatic Slims. The last time I had been there was with Ibanker last year and though it was always fun with him, the place sucked without a preppy person's protection. It was filled with a bunch of fat rich girls who don't have to be pretty because they are rich and who also have a bad attitude. After almost getting in an argument with one who purposely would not move out of my way I decided that for everyone's good we needed to leave. We headed back to safety in the LES, and on the way, I danced around to the techno I was blasting on my phone in the cab and yelled about the stupid fat girls. The Pubs was seeing a new, very classy side of me, and I'm sure he was very impressed. We went to the Thompson Hotel, where for some reason we all kept yelling "You're so stupid Karen!" a la Mean Girls. We were drinking and I even danced, which I tend to be shy about in front of people I like. At this point, I had determined that I did indeed have a crush on my work friend.
But this did not stop me from kicking the bathroom door when the girl ahead of me in line took too long. The mix of Mezcal, Russian vodka and salmon clearly wasn't working for me. Pubs still accompanied me to another bar when I yelled that I was not ready to go home when we finally left the Thompson. We ended up at Bedlam, across the street from my apartment, where we ordered two drinks, took a sip and then left them  to go get pizza. And as I was shoving pizza into my face like a lady, he told me that he had a crush on me too. I wiped the cheese from my face and smiled. He walked to my door and then he kissed me on my stoop. Definitely one of my most romantic NYC moments. Of course, I put a damper on it by hinting that he should come upstairs and thank god he paid no attention to me.
He did pay attention though when I was blabbing about how I was going to meet him at the Astoria Beer Garden the next day. He texted me in the morning, and after I shook off my hangover and went to brunch, I met him in my old hood where we had a nice afternoon drinking beer, walking in the park and chatting. We even took a stroll by my old apartment, and when I saw a face in the window, I took off running (creepy Ginger roommate?!). Besides that encounter, it was a nice little day and he seemed very sweet and genuine. Looks like I had made the classic mistake of getting involved with someone at the office....

Settling Down in September...?

After the debacle of Electric Zoo and my nonstop summer of working, traveling and partying I was ready for a break after Labor Day. I needed to take it easy on the mid-week happy hours and going out. I also needed to wake up some weekend mornings not being hungover or having an annoying dude next to me, pressuring me to sleep with him. Enough was enough, so I vowed to settle down a bit for the month of September. And for the most part I was successful. I had fun without going out and drinking. Here are some examples:

Russian Rocher has a friend in New York who is a jewelry designer. I have met her before and she is hilarious. And though her stuff isn't exactly my style it is still really cool artistically (check it out—WXYZ jewelry). She was having a fashion show for fashion week not far from my office. So I headed there after work and was surprised to see that it was a legitimate runway show. We had rsvped late so didn't get a seat and had to stand in the back. We peered around and spotted the friend who came over to greet us and thank us for being there. I couldn't help looking behind her at all the ridiculous people walking in—waif-like girls with hair dyed purple, gay dudes in all black, and older people in European fashions. Of course I had chosen to wear a simple, professional and not at all fashion-forward dress that day. The friend left as the show was about to start and one of the fashion interns working the show told the two of us to grab two of the empty seats. Russian Rocher booked it to two of the seats in the front and before I knew it was front row at a show at Fashion Week. Guess my dress wasn't so bad after all. The show was short but cool and her jewelry looked great on the models. We hung around for a bit afterwards chatting with her, and then instead of making a night of it, I headed home.

Another wholesome time was a couple weeks later, when I had to return to Cuse for an old friend's wedding. I was taking my dad as my date, since he was also invited and there were no other acceptable options. We drove through the Finger Lakes to watch the ceremony where we sat in the back, bored. We then headed to the reception where we knew no one besides the bride's family. I had met this girl in Rochester and she had remained my good friend throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, but we had lost touch during college and I was even surprised I was invited to her wedding quite honestly. She now lived in Jersey with her husband and not surprisingly was not keeping the best company. Her wedding party was made up of white trash, besides her sister. One girl even had a lovely bear paw tattoo on her shoulder. My dad was pissed that one of the guys sitting at our table was a die-hard Republican but the girl sitting next to me turned out to be another girl I had known in Rochester. The icing on the cake though was when her maid of honor was wasted during her speech—it was basically her slurring that Kristen was her best friend for about ten minutes and she actually yelled at the crowd when they started talking. It was so awkward and my dad and I shifted uncomfortably in our seats. We didn't stay much longer after that and I spent the remainder of the weekend suburban shopping and getting in quality family time.

Of course there were times when trying to take it easy pissed me off. Like the night I tried to go to the Met rooftop with Russian Rocher and JM. It was hot as shit that day and as soon as we got there it started raining. We waited in the drink line anyway and literally as soon as we made it to the bar they closed. We then walked around forever trying to find someplace to eat but no one could agree on anything and JM had brought an awkward dude with her—she claimed they were just friends but he clearly viewed this as a date. My blood sugar was getting dangerously low and this is when people such as my mother and my exboyfriends knew that it was absolutely essential that I get food immediately or my inner bitch would not be tamed. Unfortunately these girls did not know this and the bitch came out in full-force. I felt bad even as it was happening but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Luckily soon after we found some mediocre Thai, but the damage had already been done. I calmed down a bit but was not myself for the rest of the night. So heading down to a bar filled with NYU kids in Midtown to meet another one of JM's friends, did not help this at all. I was grumpy and pissed that wasted freshmen were bumping into me, especially after Electric Zoo. We stayed for a bit and I tried to have a couple drinks but it got to the point where I either needed to get wasted and make a night of it or go home. I responsibly chose to go home.

And finally, here is when I was not responsible and fell off the wagon. I had to go to the Finincial District one weekend to meet up with ED and her boyfriend for lucnh. They had just moved to New Haven and I hadn't seen her in awhile. After we caught up I decided that since I was downtown I might as well text Prom to see if he wanted to meet up for a drink. Of course he did and we headed straight to the bar. Atl and her work friend were also out and about so I invited them along and this was the start to our daydrinking bender. We hit up a couple bars before a storm rapidly moved in. We walked down to the water to check it out and on the walk back got pelted with flying dirt and debris before we had to take cover in the nearest bar of course. We were just going to stay for a drink but that of course turned into multiple. By then the Georgia game was starting and Atl wanted to see it since that was her Alma Mater. We cabbed up to Pourhouse in the East Village, since it was a UGA bar and one of the ones yet to tackle on our Bro Bar Tour. On the way we blasted classics like Bombs Over Baghdad and Glycerine on our phones. We stayed in the Pourhouse for about 30 seconds before saying f the game. It was probably one of the most crowded places on earth at that moment. We walked in the rain to my fav bar the Ninth Ward, where Atl quickly picked up a British kid who joined us at our table. I was pretty satisfied to drink Purple Haze and eat fried pickles but Prom didn't like the British kid and copped a tude with him. I didn't like him because he had never heard of Old Gregg. The Brits are persistent in a charming way though and he accompanied us to Niagara Bar, the next (and my last) stop on our Day Drinking Tour. Before leaving the Ninth Ward I had to close out the tab I had started at the bar, because the one at our table obviously didn't provide me with enough drinks. There was a minimum though so instead of buying a drink and giving it to someone like a normal person, I decided to take a shot on my own. And not just any shot—Sambucca. The bartender asked me if I wanted it served with ice and I said warm was fine and pounded that baby by myself. Classy. Off we went to Niagara and bought a round of shots and drinks on the Brit's tab. I also at one point caught Atl telling him that if he planned to move to New York he was going to have to learn some American slang, such as “suck it” and she demonstrated the accompanying motion. I was standing and teetering at this point and I knew it was time to leave so I comanded Prom to take me home. On the way we stopped for pizza and after devouring my slice I started to pass out on the couch while poor Prom sat there awkwardly. I woke up to him saying he had to go and rushing out of the door. I nodded to myself because even in my very intoxicated state I knew this was a very good idea. Lucky for me Prom is not a bro and did not try and take advantage of me.

And that wraps up most of my September. Pretty tame, though the last incident was a poor showing, it proves I still got it.

My Gay Date

While I was traveling in Mexico City, I heard from someone that I never expected to hear from again and had forgotten about, quite frankly. The friend that Russian Rocher's friend had tried to set me up with. I went to his bday party and then found out at the end that I was talking to the girl he was dating. Which is why I never would have expected him to be gay, but we'll get to that later. So I signed onto my facebook one day and there was a message from him:

Hey! I'm not sure if you remember but we met at my birthday party several weeks ago. Anyway, I was wondering if you might be interested in grabbing drinks sometime? If you're around this weekend, perhaps Sunday night would be a good bet for something low-key? Probably seems a bit weird for me to ask ... particularly 6 weeks after the fact ... but I'd be totally remiss if I didn't. So here goes. Haha! Hopefully talk to you soon

I was pleasantly surprised, though wary, since he was tagged in photos with that girl not long before. I waited a couple of days and then wrote him back agreeing to the drinks. The date went down about a week after I made my return. I was pleased with the place he had chosen—Gallow Green. It was a new rooftop bar, right next door to where Sleep No More was held and was themed similarly. I met him at the entrance, and my immediate reaction was surprise—how had I not noticed his apparent gayness before? His voice, gestures and mannerisms all seemed gay. There was no turning back now though and as we entered the elevator I kept thinking that the people next to us were wondering why I was on a date with a gay guy.

The bar was cool though, the décor was dark and rustic 1920s with candles everywhere and the staff in character. And since the drinks were strong I just pushed these thoughts aside and asked and answered the normal first date questions. He seemed very smart and cool and laughed at some of my sarcastic comments so he was alright in my book. More gay clues though—he grew up religious in a small Midwestern town and also made an awkward comment about the strip club across the street. This did not deter me though and I made the mistake of staying for three drinks. To my defense the atmosphere was really cool and it was a perfect summer night in New York with a view of the Empire State Building and the Highline. Plus he was actually really cool to talk to and laughed really hard when I called myself Rainman for remembering the date of his birthday party a couple months earlier. Too bad he had to be gay.

Or so it seemed. He sent me the traditional follow up text the next day and asked if I wanted to go to dinner at his favorite Cuban place near my apartment that we had discussed. I figured that I might as well scope it out once more, especially since it was right near my apartment. So I agreed, and met him for dinner. It was fine as it was before and we had normal conversation, followed by drinks at Zum Schneider, the German beer garden down the street. He seemed a little less gay this time and at this point I was thinking that maybe it was the religion and the wholesome upbringing that may be causing him to seem gay. After the date he walked me to my door and didn't try to kiss me and said that we would do something soon.

This soon came up sooner than we both thought—Russian Rocher was having an open bar at Down the Hatch in the West Village and her friend had invited him. Neither of us found out until the night before when we were texting back and forth. So that was to be our next and final “date”. I had shared, confidentially, with Russian Rocher, that I was concerned that he might be gay. She said she hadn't gotten that vibe from him but had never really paid that much attention. But her other gay friend was there and she was going to ask him for his opinion. And apparently I was not the only one with qualm—when speaking to her friend later in the the night she actually told me that Gay Date was concerned that I might be too tall for him. What?? I am going to take that as a sign that he is uncomfortable with his masculinity as most guys appreciate a tall girl and it's not like I'm a giant. I pushed this aside for the time being though as I didn't want an awkward situation for anyone. I rejoined Gay Date at the bar where he continued to buy my drinks.

Except while I was gone he had struck up conversation with RR's gay friend—on his own accord. I stood there for awhile, feeling like I was the third wheel on their own gay date. He even touched his arm a couple of times and when the three of us took a group shot, he had no clue about what shots to order. After the shot I excused myself to go to the bathroom and on the way RR stopped me and said that her gay friend had reported that Gay Date was questionable. I had figured this out on my own, and whether or not this guy was actually gay it was a little too ambiguous for me. He was also a little too wholesome and I was obviously too tall.

After the bathroom I told him I was leaving and he didn't look too disappointed. I then left and walked home slowly, feeling like I had learned a valuable lesson, thought wtf it is I have no idea.

To my surprise (and chagrin) Gay Date continued to text me for the next couple weeks. Luckily he was out of town a lot for work and didn't ask me on any other dates except for one, when I was conveniently out of town. After this, he figured out that it wasn't going to work, since he is a smart boy. I only wish he could be confident enough to face his true self, if that is actually the case.