More drama

Just when I wanted to leave this Village Voice debacle behind and write about more interesting things--namely, my love life-- Gawker posted my pitch to Doug Simmons.

If you read my full email, you'll see that my idea was to write an article listing ways in which a woman could spot a pick-up artist. If the tone seems a bit negative, it's because my experience with PUA Dave left me feeling a bit uneasy, and I felt that women should be armed with the knowledge I had to catch these guys out. This is before I met Logan or PUA Mr. Right or Rebel Leader or communicated with any of the cool pick-up artists that have since given me a positive impression of the scene. The thing is, I went on to blog about a lot of these techniques, anyway, like peacocking, but ended up realizing that most of these guys create positive and fun experiences for women. Very unlike the ultimately shady encounter I had with PUA Dave.

Speaking of PUA Dave, I received a handwritten note from him at work, the other day (I had given him my business card). It said:

I apologize for lying to you.

Apology accepted, Dave, though I still hope to avoid any future social situations with you. Sorry, but you made me very uncomfortable.

Anyway, yes, I think The Village Voice stole my idea, and Doug Simmons is a liar for claiming I never pitched him the story, and at the very least somebody should have called me to make sure I didn't make up the whole PUA encounter (isn't there something called fact-checking?), but that's all I want to say about it for now. And no, I will not give any interviews where I have to reveal my real name.

Now can I talk about the latest in my dating world? Yes? Yes.

I had a date with Clive Owenish on Wednesday. In person, he was hot, and looked so much like Clive Owen I couldn't believe it. I wanted to put a tux on this guy and act out all my Croupier fantasies. Instead we went to dinner.

We weren't through the appetizer before he started talking about his divorce. Very bitterly. Oh boy. Wife cheated on him with friend, horrible, horrible circumstances. He's been divorced less than six months, so the bad feelings are justified, but must they be brought up over a lovely dinner, while on a date? Did I sigh yet? Sigh.

Apart from being on the rebound and harboring such resentment from the divorce, he was an intelligent guy. At one point in the conversation he said,

"My father had a secret life, and had a girlfriend while married. My wife had a secret life. Why does everyone feel the need to have a secret life??"

Oh dear.

That's when I really knew there would be no second date.

However, there will be a third date, with Arty Adam, tonight! It will be so great to spend an evening with a man whose company I know I enjoy. The tricky thing will be when he asks how my week has been. I wish I could answer,

"Well, I've become peripherally involved in a newspaper scandal that's now getting nationwide coverage, but other than that, same old same old."

Yet something tells me I'll have to stick to talking about my busy week at work.

Busy indeed.