Drama David/Hiatus

First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who emailed and/or left positive comments to the last couple of posts. I appreciate the good vibes and I'm glad so many of you still have faith in my blogging abilities, despite my no longer being frustrated about my dating situation.
To be fair, I was in a good place for a while before I met Drama David. Ups and downs, but for the most part, I really embraced that solitude. I think all that time spent alone helped center me and paved the way for having a healthy relationship.

While I was in a good place alone, I'm in an even better place since meeting Drama David. To say that things are going well would be an understatement. I haven't experienced this kind of reciprocated affection, honesty, and thoughtfulness in a very long time. In case that comes across as being steadfast and dull, it isn't. It's pretty thrilling, too. There are butterflies and shivers and lightheadedness. It's nice to be smiling this much.

One of the most surprising things I have found in this turn of events is how, no matter how jaded or depressed or weary previous relationships/flings/dates may have made you, the entire slate can be wiped clean by meeting someone special. Polly and I keep going on about the concept of a tabula rasa, and this is the best example I can think of. There is an innocence and optimism happening here that is untainted by previous hurt or preconceived notions. We are not judging each other on past promiscuous behavior (even if it was chronicled on the internet!). We are not judging each other based on shallow indicators like money or status or perfect looks (though let it be known that we are a damn attractive pair). This isn't to say that we are not affected or educated by previous experiences. I believe the appropriate term here is "baggage." I have very little of it; I don't get a sense he has much of it, either. I think that allows us to embark on this with so much openness and enthusiasm.

Speaking of baggage, this is where the hiatus comes in. Those that predicted I'd be writing less since Drama David entered the picture were right, but not for the reasons you think. In a few hours, I leave for the airport. I'm going to Europe for a week-and-a-half. I don't know if I'll get a chance to update while I'm away. Given the choice between an internet cafe and European adventures, I'll probably choose the latter.

I'm terribly excited for the trip, though I realize the timing is a little inconvenient considering how long Drama David and I will be apart. At the same time, the timing is perfect, because it will give us a chance to catch our breath, miss each other, and continue the slow, easy pace that we have chosen to take. Besides, I'll see him the day after I get back and my phone will work abroad, so I'll still be able to send him drunken text messages. That's the important thing.

For weeks, I've been telling everyone that when I go to Europe, there's a strong chance I will be so smitten with the historic cities that I won't want to come back. A tiny part of me really believed that once over there, I'd find a way to stay.

Of course, I no longer feel the need to run away from this wretched and wonderful city. I'm grateful for the respite, but I'll also be happy to come back.

It's great knowing I have something to return to.

Impromptu Dates

Friday night was another blogger gathering at Bar M (thanks to everybody who came out!). Polly and I were in high spirits. We were looking forward to meeting some new bloggers as well as seeing a few familiar faces.

The crowd was diverse, the drinks and conversation free-flowing. Polly and I were giddy, grinning at each other, hugging each other.

Okay, I'll be honest here. A lot of our giddiness stemmed from the great guys we had recently met. Polly and Web Walter had a spontaneous second date the previous night, and after our lovely date on Tuesday, Drama David and I had been in touch frequently, barely containing our anticipation for our own second date. Web Walter sent Polly adorable text messages; Drama David called just to hear my voice.

How did this happen? Polly and I went from being single for what seemed would be a long, long time, to both meeting wonderful guys on the same exact night! What's even better is that neither of us were wasting away in When-is-He-Going-to-Call-Land or How-Long-Should-I-Wait-to-Email-Ville. Neither Web Walter nor Drama David were giving us any doubts that they like us.

I have never seen Polly this happy. I wonder if she would say the same for me.

The blogger party thinned out fairly early on, due to other Friday night plans folks had. Polly wondered if she should check in with Walter and find out what he was up to. Seeing as things were winding down, why not?

"I want to invite him out!" She said.

"You should! And I want to invite David to Bar K tomorrow with Willow and the gang." I answered.

"You should!" She replied.

We laughed and sent texts to our respective guys.

I'll spare you the mushy details of our messages. What matters is that David not only agreed to come out to Bar K on Saturday night, he also joined us that night at Bar M. I couldn't believe that he was as enthusiastic about seeing me as I was him. Neither of us had to play it cool or pretend to be aloof. Should we have waited until Monday as originally planned to have our second date? Why bother, when instead we could have our fourth?

Something I am not very good at when I'm with Drama David is realizing there are other people in the room/on the street/on the subway platform. I wouldn't say this is entirely a bad thing. And I'm sure I'll get to a point where I can be social in a group context with him present, but right now I can't help focusing my attention solely in his direction. Blame the pheromones, blame Drama David's engaging personality, blame my shameless penchant for kissing in public.

Oh. I think this is where I should issue an apology to Bar M and Bar K and all its patrons for having to witness any pass-the-insulin public displays of affection.

There has been mention of the fact that I have only written about Drama David's positive traits. Perhaps I have painted our interactions in an idyllic light. Actually, on Friday, we discussed potential stumbling blocks. Our chat got pretty serious and some real issues came up:

I have no interest in sports whatsoever; David is quite the baseball fan. One of my favorite foods in the world is sushi; David can't stand raw fish. I was hoping to get a pet someday; David is allergic to both cats and dogs.

I know what you're thinking: "However will you overcome such seemingly insurmountable obstacles in order to be together?" I don't know, my friend, but we're going to try. The kissing makes it all a lot easier to bear.

I am well aware that for some readers it might be disappointing to find out that I met someone I like. Dating disaster stories are usually more entertaining than look-how-this-guy-and-I-hit-it-off stories. Rest assured that I have had more than my fair share of the former, even long before I started this blog. I don’t mind taking a dip into my Big Book of Unsuitable Men to prove my point. In other words, this whole thing is an unexpected rarity. So I’m going to coast on this happy wave as long as I can, marvel at my good fortune, and look forward to that fourth date tonight.

Outed... What now?

It had to happen sometime, right? Having my blog discovered by a date was an inevitability, partly because of my big mouth and partly because that's just how things go in the world of blogging. Sooner or later, they find out.

In Drama David's case, better sooner than later. Not that it wasn't still painfully awkward.

Where was I? Yes, the printout.

"I thought I had more time." I reached for my gin and tonic like a drowning man. Ordered another one the very second I spotted the waiter.

Hang on a second. He told me this after we kissed. That must mean...

"How much did you read?" I asked.

"Enough to know I wanted to see you again."

I still couldn't look at him. The waves of shock, embarrassment, horror as I recalled more of the entries he would eventually read. The slutty weekends, the multiple make-outs, the pick-up artists, the cocaine! Oh noooooooo...

He put his arm around me. He kissed me. He let me mutter incoherently and bury my head in his shoulder. In fact, I think he was a bit amused by my extreme reaction.

Drama David handled my freakout like a true champ. It was going to be okay.

I pleaded with him to tell me how he found it. It was through Polly's old blog. A random and ingenious Google search led to an entry Polly wrote about him. That led to her current blog, which is inextricably linked to mine. I laughed pained laughter recalling our recent entries in which we both quoted Drama David's email to her. Which, incidentally, wasn't to get her blessing. He sent her that note because he knew she'd tell me about it. Very clever, that David.

But wait. Don't all the books and techniques tell you you're supposed to act like you're not too interested in the other person? Aren't we all supposed to play it cool and not make it obvious that we're into the object of our affection? That's why men love bitches and women love bad boys, right? Here we were, Drama David and I, being nice to each other. Being openly affectionate. Surely we were going about it all wrong.

Whatever the case may be, it was an immense relief to have so much out in the open. I was able to speak freely about things that I've had to withhold from many others, like my involvement in the PUA community. I even told Drama David that I'm a scheduled speaker at a seduction seminar this summer and mentioned how I should bring him with me as a role model for other guys.

Funny enough, after a conversation several weeks back with a male friend, David ordered a copy of The Game.

"Now it looks like I won't even need it," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I met you."

... My jaw probably dropped open after hearing that. There was probably blushing, too.

This quite possibly ranks as the most surreal date of my life. It was strange and lovely and there is a great deal of anticipation for our next date on Monday. I have even been given homework: a list of songs to download by one of Drama David's favorite artists. So far, so good.

Several people have expressed concern that this blog will be coming to an end. Silly rabbits, that's not going to happen! True, the dynamic of the blog is evolving, but it has been doing so for a while now, from the beginning even. If the last few months have taught me anything, it's how wild and unpredictable life can be. In many ways, this blog has been a chronicle of my surprises. This is the latest one.

Drama David, wave hello.

(You all better be nice to him!)

Outed...This time for real

Before I say anything about my date with Drama David I should clarify this Film Felix texting business. As it so happens, there is, floating around in cyberspace, an easily-found-if-you-know-me-in-person, non-incriminating old blog of mine. Therefore, my heart only stopped for a split second when I saw the following message from FF:

I found your blog, but I found nothing to warrant your question. I'm disappointed.

I know I don't lead the craziest life in the world, but if he found this site, there's no way he'd be so blasé. I replied:

Either you're bluffing or you're referring to [non-incriminating old blog], which is easy to find.

I thought that if Film Felix went to all the trouble to try to find my "scandalous" blog, there must be some interest, right?

Guess what? It doesn't matter. Film Felix did not step up. Like Coldplay Guy and many men before him, he played the passive card. I was disappointed, too.

Sometimes it's difficult to see just what kind of unacceptable behavior you've been tolerating from men... until you see how it should be.

Enter Drama David, Stage Left.

We met at a subdued West Village restaurant/lounge.

My hair didn't look like I had spilled coffee on it (hooray!).

It took a little while to settle my nervousness, so I might have chattered on a bit too much a first. He was wearing the perfect first date male ensemble (Desperate Guy, are you paying attention?): jeans, nice button-down, sport jacket, polished shoes.

As we talked, our knees touched under the table. I found that reassuring.

We delved right into the first order of business, which was his grievous inability to love Favorite Band as much as I do. He pulled out the list of songs I wrote out for him to download and said he couldn't find many of them at iTunes, so he went to a record store instead and... bought Favorite Band's Greatest Hits.

Wow.

That was so damn cool. Even if he wasn't instantly enamored by the breathtaking song stylings of Favorite Band, the fact that he went to so much trouble is commendable. I have faith that someday he will see the light.

More conversation, I'm starting to relax, Drama David suggests we go somewhere else. I mention a bar around the corner I have always wanted to visit. We go there and he sits across the table from me for a few minutes, then comes around and sits next to me. Puts his arm around me. That's more like it. We order drinks, talk some more, and finally there's some smooching... quality smooching... in fact, I'd like to pause for a moment to recall said smooching... Okay, I'm back.

Drama David starts asking about the "secret" blog. I tell him I know he is going to find it someday, but that for now I couldn't tell him any more about the pesky thing.

"Okay, then let's talk about this scandal your blog was involved with."

I had mentioned this to him at the party.

"Sure."

"So it was the Village Voice."

"Did I mention the Voice to you on Saturday? I guess I must have." I tried to think back.

"...Doug Simmons?"

The room got a little darker. I definitely didn't mention this at the party. "Um..."

"Nick Sylvester?" He took a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. A printout.

A printout of this blog.

I put my head in my hands. "Oh no."

I couldn't look at him.

"You asked me to tell you if and when I found it, so I'm telling you."

[to be continued...]

but wait, there's more!

Film Felix sent me a text message this morning telling me he found my blog.

Life is never boring...

This is how you ask a girl out:

For those who haven't read Polly's last post, it would appear that I made quite an impression on Drama David. He sent her the following email yesterday:

Polly--

As usual, it was great seeing you on Saturday night. Sorry we didn't get to talk more, but I didn't want to cramp your date's style. Walter was his name, right? How did that all end up going, anyway?

I especially enjoyed meeting your friend, Dolly. She was...well, um...WOW! That's all I can say for the time being. She WOWed me. Otherwise, I'm rendered temporarily speechless. I definitely liked meeting her, though.Hope you had a great Easter yesterday, and are enjoying a terrific day today. More later for you, my dear. ;)

~Drama David

Wow indeed! Polly said I was blushing after she read me the email, but she lies, lies!

Polly wrote a cute reply in which she said she'd be happy if we ended up dating. Which makes the two of us believe that part of his reason for the email was to get her okay before asking me out. Even though they went out months and months ago and it wasn't anything serious, it was really nice of him to check in with Polly that way. This already paints Drama David in a much better light than me, because I took no such courteous measures with TV Tyler before meeting up with Film Felix. I guess karma paid me back for that one.

Anyway, Polly also told him that I was leaving for a big trip next week and that he should call me soon.

He left me a message last night while I was at an industry event. It was one of the most charming voicemails ever. He said he had downloaded some of the songs I recommended to him by my favorite band but needed my help, because he wasn't really getting it, but he was sure it was because he was going about it incorrectly. He also mentioned a couple of days he was free to go over this issue further.

I called him back right away and agreed that we needed to meet to figure out where he was going wrong with my favorite band. He said he was glad I saw the importance of the matter. I declared it an emergency. I also said it looked like our schedules don't synch up this week, because he suggested Wednesday or Friday and while my free days were Tuesday and Thursday.

"I could be free Tuesday," Drama David said.

Hang on a minute, first he downloaded songs I recommended to him, now he was rearranging his schedule in order to go out with me? When was the last time a guy did that?

We agreed on a time, I picked the neighborhood, and David said he'd pick the place and email me details tomorrow.

I asked him to promise me something.

"If you end up finding the blog, please tell me about it. Seriously."

"I will." He then confessed to finding my Amazon wishlist as well as another website related to me which takes a bit of sleuthing to find.

I laughed. "I'm so flattered you took the time to cyber-stalk me!"

[Which reminds me, I better Google him right after I post this.]

Our banter was so natural and energized. It's so easy for me to talk to him. And yes, it's quite possible that I was smiling for the duration of our conversation. Also, having him ask me out immediately put me at ease on the phone straightaway. Hooray for directness!

It would appear that I have a date this evening. It would also appear that I am the tiniest bit nervous about it, because I have already managed to spill coffee on my hair (don't ask).

Drama David is probably going to find this blog any second, or he probably will eventually, and the thought of that doesn't bother me. I think that comes from that comfortable-to-be-totally-myself-around-him feeling that he inspires. Hmm.

I haven't forgotten the red flags and will not turn away from the blinding CAUTION lights flashing. However, it's only fair to put my prejudice of Davids and actors aside and see what happens. Because so far, he is saying and doing all the right things.

How Dolly got her game back

So... I went to this party in Hell's Kitchen on Saturday.

Since the host was a friend of Polly's and she had a date earlier in the evening we made plans to meet at a bar in the neighborhood first.

Maybe it was the perfect weather that put me in such a great mood, or the 90-minute walk I had around the park, or the yummy new sushi place I discovered in my neighborhood, or the upswing of my potentially undiagnosed manic depression. Whatever the case, I was feeling great, radiating charisma, and completely convinced it was going to be an excellent night.

I arrived a few minutes early to the bar Polly had selected, a cozy Irish place that had at least three men for every woman. Ah, I understood why she chose this venue.

Polly's date was clearly going well, because she showed up with him in tow (let's call him Web Walter). The three of us started chatting and I was pleased to find I liked this guy. In fact, he might just be the first Potential of hers who I believed was worthy of our dear Polly. My friend often goes for guys that I think are a bit on the bland side (like the Tall Guy she was out with last week), but Web Walter was dynamic and witty and he and I quickly bonded over the lameness of online dating and music we loved. In fact, we launched into a conversation about what cool music to get Polly into (for anyone wondering, we decided we'd have to ease her gradually into Kraftwerk, probably wouldn't be able to get her into The Smiths, but could definitely turn her into a Pulp fan). I think for a moment Polly might have been worried that Walter and I were getting along a little too well, but she had no cause for concern. While talking about what friends of his he could set me up with, he asked if I go for Asian guys and I told him that was more Polly's territory and that I often end up with Aryan-looking guys (minus Nazi tendencies, thankssomuch).

The three of us ended up having such a great time that Web Walter not only agreed to come to Polly's friend's party, but bring along a couple of his friends, too. The least Polly could do since she was bringing five guests to a small party is make sure we all brought lots of alcohol.

On our way to the liquor store, Polly and I ran into some friends of friends. Seems like everyone was out tonight. After making our purchases, we waited for Walter's friends to meet us.

Outside the liquor store, a young woman stopped in front of me and asked,

"Is your name Dolly?"

"Yes..." I tried to place her face.

"You were at Bar K with Willow a couple of weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I don't remember meeting you."

"It's okay, I think you might have been a little drunk."

I don't doubt it.

Not two minutes into our conversation, she shrieks as an old friend of hers walks by (meanwhile, this girl is from out of town). All of a sudden, Hell's Kitchen had become some kind of bizarre Six Degrees of Separation vortex. There was a great energy in the air.

Polly and I were both a tiny bit tipsy (she from several glasses of wine, me from a pint-sized margarita-- it's okay, I had a big dinner this time!). We stumbled into the party giggling and I grinned at two attractive guys. I grabbed a bright blue drink in a small glass bottle marked "Exhibit A" and started mingling.

Polly knew one of the attractive guys, Drama David, and introduced me to him right away. The other guy started talking to a cute girl wearing too much mascara (well, she was!), but I wasn't even looking to hook up, so that was fine with me. Besides, David and I hit it off right away.

Don't get me wrong, I had no intentions with Drama David beyond friendly chatter. The main reason was that Polly had a history with him. Everything is fine between them now, but I felt like I knew a little too much about him, so I was able to speak freely, because I wasn't trying to lure him in. I didn't give him the link, but I told him about having an anonymous blog, about some of the escapades I chronicled therein, and about how I tired of my floozy phase. Drama David commiserated, mentioned his own slutty phases, etc.

I have always had enormous (I mean Mount Rushmore-sized) reservations about getting involved with an actor, which was another reason why I found David to be "safe." I even told him about my trouble with men named David and he told me how a fortune teller predicted he would have multiple wives. We were Doomed-with-a-capital-D, right? Yet, we got on the topic of creative pursuits and bonded quite a bit.

Polly and I had a quick pow-wow mid-party and she gave me her blessing. What?

"Go for it," she said. "He's a great guy. It won't bother me at all."

What was she talking about? I was just enjoying some party banter, I wasn't, like starting anything with this guy. Silly Polly.

I talked to one or two other party guests, but it wasn't long before Drama David and I were sitting on the floor, caught up in another in-depth chat.

At one point, someone walked by and said,

"This must be the make-out room."

Excuse me? Was there any making out going on? I don't think so. Can't a girl and a guy sit on the floor and discuss Hitchcock without people making a thing of it? Jeez.

I was having a great time and kept exclaiming over the terrific music (I have never heard so much Nick Cave at a party in my life! It was wonderful). Yeah, well, and I was enjoying Drama David's company quite a bit, too. I could tell he was interested in me. I hadn't made up my mind about him, but it seemed like no matter how much I tried to resist it, we had a connection. I was able to be completely myself around him. Also, I made him laugh so hard, he actually fell over at one point. And he made some observations about me that were so astute, it was hard to believe this man only met me a few hours ago.

We were the last guests. Still sitting on the floor of a small side room, facing each other, talking and laughing. At one point, after a funny moment, I put my head on his shoulder and lingered. I tilted my head up, noses a few inches away, closer... we kissed.

It wasn't the drunken kisses I've become such a pro at these last few months. We both sobered up by then, so it was a clear-headed, hey-we're-having-a-moment-here kind of kiss.

Drama David was a great kisser! Soft, passionate, just the right amount of intensity.

"I could get used to this," he murmured when we came up for air.

What was going on here? I did not expect to kiss this man. But I was really enjoying it, so there was no reason to stop.

At around 4:00am we left the party. Like a proper gentleman, Drama David made sure I was safely in a taxi before heading home, but not before getting my phone number.

Huh.

I am not going to detail all my reservations or what happened between David and Polly. There's no telling if he will even call, though I would see him again, despite the cacophony of warning bells going off. I'm moving away from my Film Felix fixation, though.

Kissing an attractive man in a small, candle-lit room, with moody Nick Cave music in the background will do that.

Oneitis, thy name is Film Felix

I have recently been asked two questions, whose answers merit a post of their own.

1. What makes Film Felix so special?

Part of it I can explain and part of it I can't. Sometimes it's tough to extrapolate why you get hung up on a certain person, it just happens.

First of all, there are the circumstances around which we met. Being a sucker for all things relating to Destiny, the numerous "coincidences" bowled me over. I thought maybe there was an element of Meant to Be about the whole thing. I know it's dangerous to be a fatalist, and the last thing I want is more comments telling me how "irrational" or "insensible" I'm being. However, my instincts have been very dead on before and I'm not one of those materialists who only believes in what I see; I sense things. Whether or not you buy into that is up to you, but I'd rather not get any further criticism about it, thanks.

Of course, the next logical question would be whether I built Film Felix up in my head before I even met him? Actually, I was expecting him to be wildly intelligent, but braced myself for a cold and pretentious man. I was utterly shocked at how sweet and down-to-earth and present he was. I felt like we were both completely in the moment during those hours we spent drinking and chatting. Sure, there was a certain amount of guardedness, but he radiated a kindness and warmth that has haunted me ever since.

Then there are all the things we have in common. Both of us are extremely passionate about the arts and have avant garde leanings. At one point in the conversation, I was quoting a scene from one of my favorite indie films and he corrected my phrasing, because I happen to be describing his favorite scene from the the same movie (and I'm talking about a film that only a handful of people I know have even seen).

More important than similar tastes was the way we were able to instantly delve into a big philosophical discussion on our views of life. We talked about things a lot of people don't even think about, and even though our opinions did not always converge, we were clearly at similar levels of introspection. Not only that, but he seemed to want to assert his individuality on the world as much as I do. Where I call them "normals" he calls them "sheep." This was a man I thought could really understand me.

Above everything else, I could tell, with utmost certainty, he is a good guy, a gentleman. He seemed like the kind of guy who would get a girl flowers for no reason.

This brings me to the second question:

2. In a city with six million men, how is possible for you not to find anyone you want to date?

First of all, I think when a woman decides she is no longer interested in casual flings, she puts out a different energy and men can pick up on that. It's not that I am more closed off, it's that I don't keep an eye out as much as I used to. If I'm out with friends, I don't scope the crowd the way I did before. When I'm walking down the street, I don't really zero in on passing strangers. I'm content in my environment and don't have that "who's next" mentality so much anymore. This makes for fewer encounters.

Quitting the online dating game has a lot to do with it, too. After a while, all the pictures and profiles blur together and it seems like it's the same people on there, over and over again.

That doesn't only apply to the internet. I think a reason I don't find many men attractive these days is because, in some ways, they have all become indistinguishable to me. Nobody I have seen has stood out from the crowd and made me think, I want to know you.

New York City is not known for its aggressive men, quite the opposite. Since there are half a million more single women here than men, the females often take the role of the pursuer. I have done that, but I think it's lame for guys to be so lazy. I want a man who will actually have the courage to take the lead, which is tough for me, because I present myself as a rather assertive gal. I realize my visible strength of character is a handicap and may intimidate some men. Oh well.

This is why I have spent a lot of time defending pick-up artists. These guys are learning how to approach women and generate attraction.

On the flipside, though, I'm a little tired of all the routines. The guys who don't run game are either too passive or uninspiring (at the Tall Club meeting last week, I actually heard one man trying to pick up Polly ask, "so what do you like to do for fun?") and the guys who do run game make me suspicious, because I usually assume they use the same routines over and over again and are looking to build a harem.

One huge issue I also want to bring up is manners. I meet so few gentlemen these days. A while back, I stayed out late with a male friend, and he didn't make sure I was safely in a taxi before going off in his own direction. He left me on the street by myself in the middle of the night. I was disappointed at the lack of manners. When Polly wrote about a date she had where the guy walked ahead of her to the table and selected the more comfortable seat, everyone was up in arms that she was so upset about it. Yet it's these little graces that reveal a person's true nature. It goes both ways, too. Think of that scene from A Bronx Tale, where Robert de Niro tells his son, if a girl in your car doesn't lean over and unlock your door from inside, she's a pig. Maybe these courtesies are outmoded, but they still mean something to me.

It's probably becoming clearer why it's tough for me to find real contenders, right?

There are certain things I will not be flexible about: fierce intelligence, a kind heart, good manners, and that X factor.

We all know what the X factor is, but explaining it is nearly impossible. It's that certain something that generates an immediacy, an intrigue, a rush (and I'm not talking about lust). It's not something you can study and learn to create because it is based in more than human psychology and physiology. It is based in something less scientific and more nebulous.

I have met a lot of smart men and and polite men, and even a few kind men, but the only man I have met in years who had all of that plus the X factor was FIlm Felix. This is why I can't get him out of my mind.

But I'm going to try. I'm not going to return to full-on slutty mode, but I think I'm going to need to kiss at least one more guy to get past this. I'm trying to let go. I realize how utterly ludicrous it is to still be thinking about someone I spent five hours with and didn't even kiss.

I'm going to a party tonight. Who knows what might happen...

Vodka: A Cautionary Tale

Last night, somebody put something in my drink.

That something was VODKA.

It all began when I met Agent Alice for a couple of cocktails in Chelsea.

"Should we get some snacks?" Alice pointed at the appetizer menu.

"Good idea," I launched into a mini-monologue about how smart it was not to drink on an empty stomach. I am all about not doing something so exceedingly dumb.

The waitress, who was approximately seven feet tall and built like a toothpick, brought me a bright yellow martini that tasted like spiked lemonade. Yummy! And dangerously non-alcoholic-tasting.

Dinner consisted of six oysters and a spring roll the size of my thumb. This was okay, because I wasn't planning on having more than two drinks, and was possibly going to have a snack when I got home.

What I didn't count on was this second drink. Agent Alice and I decided to go hardcore and get vodka martinis. The last time I had a vodka martini, four years ago, I ended up having unprotected sex with my first love on my best friend's futon. One reason why I generally stay away from these dangerous cocktails.

The waitress (Did I mention how tall she was? So tall! And so skinny! Eat something, missy!) brought out these martinis... really it was about a liter of chilled vodka poured into a glass the size of my head. With three olives. Ooh, I love olives! This counted as not drinking on an empty stomach, right?

Agent Alice and I proceeded to get toasted. Luckily, we parted company before 8:00pm, so I had plenty of time to sober up and fly right. Except that I was several blocks away from Bar K, the bar Willow and I love so much.

Oh, Vodka, the things you make me do.

Some crazy impulse made me stop into Bar K. Just one drink, I told myself.

I hardly ever go to bars solo, but this one is a small place, the bartenders know me, and it's easy to strike up a conversation with other patrons.

I was having a good time and just finishing up my vodka-cranberry when I turned around and saw Charlie. This wasn't so strange, since it was the same bar where I ran into him six days ago. However, I usually visit Bar K twice a month, not twice a week. He found it a bit odd as well, but was thrilled to see me. He bought me drink (are we all keeping count?) and told how he wished he had gotten my number, how glad he was to run into me, etc.

I was under the suspicion that Charlie was coked up again. He kept asking,

"Can you hang?"

It was only 9:00pm or so, so I said sure. Hey, he was cute, attentive, and remembered little details about me, like my nickname and where I was born. Why not?

Charlie bought a second round of drinks, and we had a good laugh over last week's narcotic incident. He asked if I wanted to go get some food.

"That would be a very good idea," I nodded.

"Okay, how about we have one more round, then we'll go."

That was a very bad idea.

Oh, I should confess that Charlie and I made out a little bit at the bar. Let's bear in mind that I was drunk as all get-out and hadn't kissed a boy in over a month. And we all know my weakness for tipsy make-out sessions in bars.

Charlie kept disappearing, probably to do more coke or call his dealer or something. I didn't see him for a while, so I finished my drink and left the bar.

I must have gone into a deli at some point, because I found myself on the subway eating ranch-flavored Wheat Thins. I do remember being very excited that all of a sudden Wheat Thins had a ranch flavor (when did that happen?).

At some point during the ride, I realized it would be a miracle if I made it home without being sick in public. To make things even more surreal, I ran into a friend from high school on the train. I told HS Hailey how drunk I was and how I thought I would puke at any moment. She offered to let me come home with her and crash on her couch. I thanked her, but said I could manage the two extra subway stops.

I made it the rest of the way home without incident. Oh god, I had crossed over into the dark side of being drunk. The dry mouth, the dizziness, the sickening, unbearable nausea.

Up came the six oysters, one spring roll, three olives, and unknown quantities of ranch-flavored Wheat Thins.

Today I am nursing one of the biggest motherfucking hangovers of my life. How could you do this to me, Vodka? I thought we were friends.

The moral of the story?

Eat before you drink, kids. I mean, like, a real meal. And don't order vodka martinis the size of your head.

from the trenches of the dating desert

I got an email from Coldplay Guy. Basically, he is dropping hints to get me to ask him out. But he won't actually sac it up and do the asking himself.

What the hell kind of insanity is that?

Tell me, what is the point of describing a "comfortable and not too crowded" bar in your work neighborhood if you don't follow up with, "would you like to meet for a drink there sometime?" Does he think his ambivalence will win me over? Because it won't.

Don't get me wrong, I am not above suggesting meeting up. I was quick to do the initiating with Film Felix, because he was worth taking initiative for. With Coldplay Guy being wishy-washy and stringing me along, he is telling me I'm not worth the work. Which is deeply foolish of him, because I so am.

I won't be writing back to Coldplay Guy. The ambivalence is mutual.

Unfortunately, I'm also doing a little more moping over the Film Felix non-situation. Just a tiny bit. Sorry, I can't help it. I'll stop soon, I promise. This lackluster correspondence with Coldplay Guy just affirms how rarely I really connect with a person; I already know he could never measure up to someone like Film Felix.

NotCarrie recently wrote about how, ever since she refocused her relationship priorities and decided to forgo frivolous male pursuits, she feels like she lost her game. I can identify with that sentiment to some extent. Except it's not a matter of feeling like I am incapable of attracting a man; I'm still confident in my feminine wiles. It's more that there's no one for me to attract. I mean nobody. I go out and I don't see any men I want to talk to. Not one. Which isn't to say I don't still talk to guys, but I don't lead them on by giving them my number.

If that's not an affirmation that I made the right choice to cut out dating, I don't know what is.

Right now, I've got an all-or-nothing mentality. I'd rather hold out for someone really special than have dead-end flings. I'm too young to settle with a man who's nice but doesn't get the blood rushing in my veins. I know initial attraction fades and dopamine levels diminish over the years, which is all the more reason for me to desire that initial euphoria (might as well enjoy it while it lasts).

I want to make a distinction here that I am not feeling pessimistic or hopeless. I'm just coming to grips with the cold reality that what I want might take a long time to come around. I'm trying not to let that matter, because the rest of my life is pretty damn great, and I have all these things to look forward to. Parties and more books for the book club (I loved the last discussion we had!) and various friend meet-ups and a trip at the end of the month to glamorous destinations. And, generally speaking, I've been having this odd feeling that something big is about to happen. My song of the moment is "Waiting for the Miracle" by Leonard Cohen:

Yeah let's do something crazy,
something absolutely wrong
while we're waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

It's easy and not a little tempting to focus on what's lacking. I'm working on not doing that.

A couple of nights ago, as I was falling asleep, I realized that I no longer curl up on one side of the bed, leaving space for a non-existent person next to me. I have no idea when I retrained my limbs to stretch out across the full mattress or how long I've been sleeping in the center of my bed.

I'm learning to enjoy the extra room.

In Search of My Blog

When I first started this blog, I was surprised how many people stumbled upon it incidentally, even before the Village Voice scandal. How could all these strangers be reading, just a few days after starting this blog?

Polly, ever the voice of reason, pointed out:

"It's because it has the word 'cock' in the title."

Oh yeah.

Since my drug-induced paranoia-filled text message to Film Felix on Friday, it's possible that he has made good on his threat to look for my blog. He's a bright guy and with a little ingenuity I think he could track it down. Especially considering how many people have found it without looking for it.

One of my favorite features of Sitemeter is the referral page. This is where I discover the wild and wonderful ways that people have come across my blog via search engines. Many of these are indeed cock-related. It's pretty much what you would expect:

what do you know about men cock
husband needs cock [that poor wife...]
dirty big cock pictures that can be emailed [the gift that keeps on giving]
she got hurt by big cock [that's a story she won't be sharing at the Christmas table]
male cocks big and small [because lord knows I have more female cocks than I know what to do with]
cock mother
blog coks [love the spelling!]
husband watch wife fuck monster cock
little people taking big cock

And my personal favorite (because the American Pie movie franchise didn't take it nearly far enough):

cock in pizza

Of course, if Film Felix did go looking for this blog, he could also find it by typing one of the following phrases into a search engine:

couples fucking after attending a wedding
boyfriend applications [Incidentally, I am still accepting these. Please be sure to include at least two references and a daytime phone number.]
Betty and Veronica online dolls
flesh player 8 [which I hear is a great improvement over flesh player 7]
Dolly Pardon pics
Dolly Pardon secret marriage
The correct fucking spelling of Dolly Parton's name [it's quite possible I made that one up]
knee touching under the table flirt
Clive Owen lookalike [maybe the next one I go out with won't be so freakishly bitter about his recent divorce]
love body parts xxx
fun sex [better than having my blog linked from a search for "tedious and mediocre sex," right?]

And my favorite of all favorites:

she saw the enormous bulge in his trousers

Lovely.

Alternately, Film Felix could do a search on:

wacky girl who dates my roommate then goes on date with me and is refreshingly brilliant and attractive and we have a wonderful time but I never call because I am dumb and don't like awesome girls

Well, that wasn't awkward. Oh no, not at all.

Let's file this one in the What Do I Have to Lose? drawer.

When I came home last night, I sent Film Felix the following text message:

I need to ask: Did you find my blog? Please be honest... Dolly

The most appropriate reply to my doing this would be,

"Were you on drugs?"

As I matter of fact, I was. Glad you asked.

I didn't expect to get a reply. Coworker Chris, who has been my confidante throughout this entire drama, assured me I'd hear from Film Felix again and he was right. Earlier tonight, I received the following text message from him:

No, but you have until tomorrow before I start looking for it.

I answered in the only way I could see fit:

I have until tomorrow to do what? I fear nothing.

Ladies and gentlemen, I finally have the last piece of the puzzle and that piece is: TV Tyler and Film Felix did not read the blog.

At least, not yet.

You'd think that would be the end of it, but oh, no. It would appear that I am Fate's bitch these days.

On my way home from the coffee shop where I immersed myself in books for hours on end, I got this funny feeling. My Spidey sense was tingling and I slowed my usually brisk walking pace down. On my iPod:

It’s a strange day
No colours or shapes
No sound in my head
I forget who I am
When I'm with you

Here we go: I passed the street they live on. Nobody.

I walked further on, now a mere two blocks from home.

TV Tyler and Film Felix were standing outside a bar/cafe on the corner. They had probably been smoking, though I didn't see any cigarettes. Did they linger in order for me to run into them? Doesn't matter. Film Felix saw me first and looked vaguely amused. TV Tyler turned around and did not look pleased to see me. At all.

I stopped in front of them, pulled my headphones out, smiled a smile that was more good-lord-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into than nice-to-see-you and chirped, "Hi!" in a voice that must have been at least three octaves higher than my normal timbre.

I was floored. Which is funny, because I have been expecting this to happen for weeks now, even hoping it would. Considering the fact that they live three blocks away from me and frequently go drinking in the neighborhood, it's a wonder I didn't run into them sooner.

Of course, that didn't make the encounter any less excruciating.

Looking at them was troublesome enough. My eyes kept going back and forth between the two.

I'd look at TV Tyler and think, "We slept together. I shouldn't look at you, because I tried to start something with your roommate and you're probably none too pleased with that." Then I'd look over at Film Felix and think, "No wonder you didn't call me! This scenario is uncomfortable beyond words! You're still cute, though, and if I keep staring, TV Tyler might think I'm trying to flirt with you and this is neither the time nor place." Then I'd look back to TV Tyler and think, "I'm sorry if I handled things less than graciously. However, I can't look at you too long, because I don't want Film Felix to think I'm reliving sexy moments or having feelings for you." Then I'd look at Film Felix and think, "I get it now. More trouble than it's worth. Right now, we're probably all wishing we lived three continents apart instead of three blocks." And so on.

While all that was going on internally, externally I was asked what I had been up to that night. I rambled about catching up on my reading and the book club and about how tomorrow I couldn't help Fuchsia pick out wedding dresses for the third Sunday running because I was spending the day with my parents. As if they cared.

It sounds boring the way I'm describing it, but I managed to make them both laugh several times, and every time TV Tyler laughed that big full-bodied laugh I always liked I'd think, "No hard feelings, right?" and every time Film Felix laughed I'd think, "If you find me so engaging and amusing, why the hell didn't you call? Oh wait, I know why."

I tried to extricate myself from the whole gory scene as quickly as possible. Looking back and forth at them was doing my head in. The expression on my face must have been the very epitome of Deer in Headlights. I finally said goodnight and walked the final two blocks home, a smile of pained disbelief plastered to my face the entire time.

What a fucking relief. In the same way there was something liberating at the thought of having a guy I had dated find this blog (though it looks like that wasn't the case, after all), the same holds true of running into Film Felix and TV Tyler in the neighborhood. It was inevitable and I was hoping for/dreading it. I wanted it to happen, so that I could get over it.
Now it doesn't matter if they are ever curious/clever enough to find this blog. I have a feeling I won't be seeing either again, despite our physical proximity. I also have that closure which I was so stubborn to obtain.

It's a fitting final chapter.

Tall Tales

Last night was the strangest night out I've had in ages. Well, in weeks, anyway.

It all started with a Tall Club gathering.

Yes, there is a club for tall people, and they do everything from dinner to drinks to salsa dancing.

I'm not even tall enough to be in Tall Club (I fall a few inches short--ha ha--of the 5'10" minimum height requirement for women). However, Polly and Willow are both of height and were excited at the thought of meeting lots of tall people. And when I say "people" I mean "men."

Let's be honest here, I love me some tall man, too. I was hardly taking one for the team by going to a bar where the guys would be at least 6'2".

I made sure to wear footwear that raised me to around 5'11" and was ready to get my tall groove on.

"I'm guessing 'hows the weather up there?' would not be a good opener when approaching these people," I speculated out loud, as we entered the basement lounge chosen for the meet-up.

"I would say probably not," Willow replied.

We got settled in and ordered a pitcher of sangria, because it's much easier to socialize with tall strangers after a drink or two. Also, man, did we all need it after the tiring week we all had.

Eventually, the three of us started mingling. One of the first men we talked to (6'3"? 6'4"?) had been in the club for over a year.

"So what tall things have you done in the last year?" I asked. "Also, could you get that can of string beans from that top shelf for me? Thanks."

Okay, so I didn't say that last part.

Everyone we spoke to was friendly, though it seemed like most of the members were, on the whole, older than us, and we didn't have much in common with them. We did meet one woman, Theater Thelma, who was around our age and creatively-minded and generally very cool. We invited her to join us at the next bar.

The four of us took a taxi to Chelsea, to a small bar Willow and I frequent. We were in high spirits and even higher after round of tequila shots.

At one point, Willow got approached by a guy in an orange t-shirt. On the short side, but fairly cute. Looked Italian. We'll call him Charlie.

Willow and Charlie looked like they were in an intense little discussion, but then he went away. A little while later, I saw him chatting with a couple of girls further down the bar. I asked Willow what happened.

"He came on a little too strong. He was asking if I wanted to be with him.... Um, I think he wanted me to do cocaine with him."

She explained to me and Polly that Charlie asked if she wanted to "have a sniff" with him, and we affirmed that he did indeed mean what she thought he meant.

Charlie came back to our group a few minutes later. I turned around and exclaimed,

"Oh, you're the cokehead!"

His jaw dropped open.

I turned back to Polly and told her what I just said. We talked about how we probably would have taken Charlie up on his offer (si a todo, right?).

A few minutes later, I turned to Charlie again and said,

"I totally didn't mean any disrespect there. I've done my fair share of drugs, so the last thing I would do is judge you."

He asked if I wanted to do coke with him.

"Sure," I nodded.

He smiled and told me to wait ten seconds, then follow him to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Charlie took off his t-shirt. He didn't kiss me or ask me to do anything other than to stroke his bare chest and back. That was it. I did a bump off the back of his hand and we went back to the bar.

[Let me pause the story here for a moment. Before I get emails advising me to seek help for my drug problem, I would just like to point out that prior to last night, apart from drinking, I hadn't done any drugs in years and years (and nothing heavier than pot since college). Also, this was also only the second time in my life trying cocaine and most likely my last. We cool? Good; let's continue.]

When I returned to my friends, Willow's eyes nearly popped out of her head when I told her where I had been. I was worried she would be upset with me. We've been out together a lot, but she hasn't seen my wilder streak as much as Polly has.

I didn't feel enormously different after doing the coke, just a bit more hyper, chatty, alert, and (as Polly later pointed out) paranoid.

Charlie and I snuck into the bathroom a couple of more times during the night to do more coke. It was like something out of a Jay McInerney novel. I was a bit concerned we'd get caught and kicked out of the bar (that would be more of the paranoia Polly mentioned), but other than a few irate patrons banging on the door, we had no trouble. Charlie also didn't try to make out with me, which I was happy about. He did try to get me to leave the bar with him and go somewhere else, but I said I was with my girls and would not abandon them under any circumstances (cocaine or no, I still had my wits about me).

When you are high in public, typically the questions that will orbit your mind are:

"Is it obvious I'm high?"

"Can anyone tell?"

And variations thereof.

I must have asked Polly that question a dozen times and she assured me I was fine. At least I wasn't as twitchy and distracted as Charlie was. I tried to act as "normal" as possible (whatever that means for me, since I hate that word). I swore to Theater Thelma that I don't normally do this kind of thing.

Charlie bought me a couple of drinks and got my friends a round of shots. He kept going outside to smoke and talk to other people, which was a relief because I wanted to spend more time with the girls.

The last time we went into the bathroom together, we finished off the bag of coke and he told me he was going to get another one. I had had enough at that point. Charlie tried to persuade me yet again to leave with him. No way was that going to happen.

Willow and I shared a taxi home and I launched into a ten minute monologue on how overrated cocaine was.

And it is. It was fun, but I could get just about the same effect from drinking lots and lots of coffee (and even then, I'd probably be less paranoid). I don't see what the big deal about it is or why people love it so much and get so hooked on it. Get a double latte or something and save your delicate little septum.

I'm not hungover today and I don't know if it's because of the coke or because I got lots of sleep.

I'm still very surprised at the turn of events last night. I realize I put myself in a situation which could have had negative consequences, but I don't regret it. I felt like life was offering me this mini-adventure and I accepted. Obviously I wouldn't make a habit of it.

Later on, to offset last night's debauchery, I'm going to spend the evening at a local coffee house with a stack of books.

Tonight, green tea is going to be my drug of choice.

[Edited to add: I would just like to point out that if you look at the first comment to this post, you will notice that Jesus has blessed this blog. In case you want to chastize me for my little narcotic episode, think about this: Jesus said it was okay.]

Do you remember the first time?

It was a more innocent time back then. Except that "innocent" is completely the wrong word for it. It just sounds better than "It was an I-had-no-idea-what-the-hell-I-was-in-for time back then."

We're going back several years here. I had recently broken up with a man I thought I was going to marry. I took some time to deal with it in a healthy, mature way (drinking too much and having reckless sex), then I got my shit together.

It was time to try something new. My friends were using this website to meet people. How bizarre! It was like shopping online... but for people! Initially I thought the folks on there were going to be sketchy, but once I realized all these cool people I knew were doing it, I decided to give it a whirl. It would be great to meet guys outside of bars/clubs or ones who were friends of friends.

[Forget the fact that more than 80% of my dates ended up involving bars, anyway. Is that real-ironic or Alanis Morrisette-ironic?]

When I put my ad up, I received a good number of responses. How exciting! The internet was my dating oyster and I was sure it would be no time before I found someone special.

I decided to dig up what I wrote after my first online date:

Bachelor #1 is G.

G is originally from the mid-west, works in magazine publishing, is 25, an Aries, and his favorite film is [name of movie I love]. He's cute and, looks-wise, actually reminds me of a gay boy I kissed in college (I miss Truth or Dare).

I met G in Carrol Gardens and we went to a quiet little bar, sat in the back garden, had a few cocktails, and chatted. G impressed me greatly by telling me about meeting [director of movie we love] (he briefly interviewed him for a film magazine). He also is involved in these multi-media art/film projects that sound fascinating, even though he sees himself as more on the production than creative side. G is maybe the first person I have met that does not have a strong wanderlust, but it is because he feels that New York is the capital of the world and no place can possibly be more exciting (he has traveled only a little). It's kind of refreshing to talk to somebody so steadfast, who is perfectly content where he is.

As for chemistry, I think it's too soon to tell. I've decided to actually get to know people and not make immediate judgments on whether or not I'm attracted to them (I used to be the type that would know in the first minute if I would sleep with a guy; I've been told I have a male mentality with regards to certain aspects of relationships and sex).

At this point, even after talking to G for over three hours, I feel like I still barely know him. It could go either way. But he would definitely make a cool friend if things did not work out romantically.

Okay, now I need to send an email to the guy I'm going out with on Thursday (this dating thing is too much fun).

Unsurprisingly, that was the one and only time I saw G.

After all these years, I liken online dating to a treadmill: lots of time and energy expended, but the destination remains constant. All this time and I still have dates that could "go either way." Except that they usually go one way: nowhere. The internet has been great for my sex life but terrible for my love life. I know lots of people have met their lovers/spouses/whatevers via the internet. I also know that's not how it's going to happen for me. Call it a hunch.

The most wretched habit I have been unable to fully kick is online dating. Yes, I have met some fine young (and not-so-young) men, but deep down I have always known it was a diversionary tactic. Too much time wasted. Too many missed connections. Too many choices with too few real possibilities.

Every time I leave, I promise myself that it will be for good. This time, I really want to mean it. Seriously. Reading over the account of that date with G made me see what a Mobius strip my dating life has been all these years. Give or take a couple of failed relationships/flings, it's been a repeated scenario with no progress, like Groundhog Day minus Andie MacDowell's wooden acting. Don't I have better things to do than to peruse a cyber-buffet of men?

Why yes; yes I do.

I am officially done moping about FF and every other guy who I have ever moped over.

I am officially putting a permanent halt on all online dating, even via Friendster and MySpace. Instead, I am choosing the land of three dimensions (well, four, if you count time-- eleven if you want to get all string theory-ish about it).

I like it here. I think I'm going to stay.

Film Felix

I wasn't going to blog about this.

I changed my mind.

The odds were not in my favor from the outset. First of all, Film Felix was the roommate and good friend of TV Tyler, who I had a month-long fling with. Second of all, there was a strong possibility that they both read my blog. If you think the idea of dating someone your friend already hooked up with is unappealing, imagine having access to graphic accounts of those hook-ups on the internet.

Of course, there was also a possibility that they didn't know about the blog. I'll go into that more later. What mattered to me at the time was that we made plans to meet at a local bar, which we did, last Wednesday.

I rarely get jittery before dates anymore, but I was nervous as hell about this one. I kept expecting him to cancel. I thought he might stand me up or bring TV Tyler with him as part of some kind of unpleasant confrontation.

I was as girly as girly gets before meeting Film Felix. I spent the previous night trying on half my wardrobe, settled on an outfit, and changed my mind three times about it the next day. I had to force myself to eat something beforehand, only because I didn't want to drink on an empty stomach (someday, remind me to tell you my drinking-on-an-empty-stomach-during-a-first-date story; it'll explain why I never do that anymore).

There was something about Film Felix... I knew we would get along, even before we met. I had no idea if there would be any attraction (it's tough to get a sense of what he looks like from his photos and who knows if I'm even his type), but I was convinced he was somebody I had to meet at least once.

I prepared myself for any kind of initial awkwardness. I worried Film Felix might be a little hostile toward me or have that smartypants haughty streak that TV Tyler has--hell, I have it, too, sometimes. I knew whatever happened, it wouldn't be a boring evening.

Film Felix was sitting at the end of the bar when I arrived. I went over and stood next to him but to my dismay, I was actually tongue-tied and couldn't say anything at first. I waited for him to notice me which, after a moment, he did. We greeted each other, I made a joke about my initial reticence and started talking about the book he had on the bar beside him. Bringing a book to a bar, sigh. There's a man after my own heart.

We were seated at a corner table, brought our drinks over, and eased into a conversation.

That initial awkwardness I expected? Virtually non-existent.

This would be a good time to mention Film Felix's appearance. Definitely attractive. Wardrobe inventory? Jeans, a jacket, a tie, and a button-down shirt with cufflinks. So classy.
He looked different in every one of his profile pictures, and in most, it was tough to properly see his face. How can I describe it? You know those faces that you look at and make you want to smile? Those faces that you look at and keep seeing new facets of? Film Felix has one of those faces. A young, friendly, sweet face. I may be wrong, but it was not the face of someone who would read a girl's blog and then pretend not to know about it.

It seems like just about every guy I have been out with for the last few years has had blue or green or gray or some combination of light-colored eyes. Film Felix has brown eyes. This is just one thing that made it feel so different to be out with him versus other men. A lot of that also had to do with how easy he was to talk to and how comfortable I felt with him, despite the unusual circumstances which led to our meeting. The nervousness leading up to the date (Can we call it a date? Let's.) disappeared within the first couple of minutes.

I liked him right away.

I'll tell you what it is about Film Felix that made me instantly like him. He has this warmth which comes across easily. This will be the only comparison I make to TV Tyler, but while I believe, at heart, TV Tyler is a good guy, there's something about him that's a little harsh, a little dark, a little mournful. Film Felix doesn't have any of those sharp edges; his kindness is at surface level and he wasn't the least bit haughty.

The intellectual connection was definitely there. We exchanged our ideas on what happens after death and discussed human nature and touched upon a little philosophy. In between, we got to know about each other, too. Film Felix not only asked me questions, he asked some pretty intense questions about my life; it was great to be challenged like that. He also got me talking about things I am passionate about, which makes me very animated and expressive. He would lean back, look at me, and get this smile on his face, like he enjoyed my enthusiasm.

We didn't talk about TV Tyler. The more we chatted, the more I began to believe he didn't know about the blog. Hell, he didn't know about PostSecret, which is a huge blog with an enormous following. What are the odds that he knows about my little blog with its little secrets?

Initially, there were two reasons I suspected he might have found this site. The first was the fact that he wrote to me the day after I blogged about wanting to meet him. The other reason is, when I posted about wanting to upgrade coffee to drinks, a day or two later he emailed me and said, "I suppose we could meet for coffee. Or how about a drink at _____ Wednesday night?"

The thing is, neither of these things are conclusive proof that he read the blog. He's a big social drinker and so am I. It would have been different if I wrote about how I wish he'd bring flowers on our first date--irises, because they're my favorite-- and he showed up with a bouquet of irises. Or I mentioned how much I love guys in parachute pants (I don't) and he was wearing a pair when I met him. As convinced as I was that they knew about this baby, after meeting Film Felix and seeing nothing suspicious or I-know-but-I'm-pretending-not-to-know about his behavior, I'm willing to chalk it up to coincidence.

[Of course, I'd be even more disappointed if they found the blog and never told me... hint hint, just in case.]

As for a physical attracted between myself and Film Felix, I don't know. He kept his distance at the bar and there was no kiss good night. Which is fine, because I love the idea of getting to know each other slowly and being friends first, even if it doesn't go any further.

Well, it looks like it's not going to go any further in any sense of the word. Despite saying, "we should do it again sometime" and asking me for my email (we had been writing to each other via the personals site and I told him I was no longer on it), there has been no word from Film Felix. I sent him a note on Friday, thanking him for a lovely evening on Wednesday (plus, we each had a zillion drinks and he paid for everything, which was so generous... not to mention a little date-y, right?). I made it clear I would be up for it again, but so far it's been tumbleweeds in my inbox.

I should be used to this by now, right? And yet, it feels worse this time. I was so sure I'd see him again. Instead, I am chanting the girl mantra:

I thought he was different. I thought there was real potential for something. I hoped he wouldn't be like all the other guys.

It's been a week since I last saw him, so unless he has been dealing with a crisis in a remote part of the world with no internet access or telephone reception or he was hit by a meat truck, the answer is clear: He doesn't want to take things any further.

I had no will-I-hear-from-him anxiety all weekend, but yesterday, when I realized it wasn't going to happen, I was sad. Today, I am less sad. Maybe tomorrow I won't be sad at all.

On top of everything, after not replying to his last email several weeks back, I got a text message from Coldplay Guy last night. I don't know if I'm going to answer...

What I Do When I'm Not Being Slutty

Not that I think anybody is losing sleep over the fact that I have put the kibosh on manic dating, but I would like to clarify something. Just because I am no longer casually hooking up or going on three dates a week with different guys, doesn't mean I am staying home in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, eating ice cream, watching Meg Ryan movie marathons and waiting for my Tom Hanks to knock on my door.

[Hang on, I just made myself a little sick picturing that scenario. *shudder*]

While I may be showing far more discretion when it comes to who I swap spit with, I am still living the "say yes" dream. In fact, I am engaging with the world in a broader way than I did when I went bar hopping all the time (not that I don't still love bars). In no particular order, here is a smattering of some of the things I've been up to:

~ Dancing. I went to a club night where my friend's fiance was DJing and spent hours getting nostalgic over old favorites. A couple of creepy guys tried to hit on me, but I made it clear not to mess with me on the dance floor-- or off it, for that matter. Nobody interrupts me while I'm dancing.

~ Reading. Polly and I joined a book club. In fact, we're thinking of starting our own. I'm a hundred pages into the book and I love it. I am trying to set aside a chunk of time to go to one of my local coffee shops and read and read and read for hours.

~ Walking. Now that the weather is getting warmer, I can take endless walks around the city. I live close to the park and have been taking advantage of that as well. On Saturday, I trekked in and around the park for over an hour. I listened to music to keep my energy up, got caught in the rain, and felt unbelievably alive.

~ Satisfying my curiosity. I met Film Felix last week. For various reasons I won't say anything beyond that.

~ Gambling. My former coworkers are trying to start a recurring poker night. I attended the last one on Friday and didn't win the pot, but had the best time playing some Texas Hold 'Em. Next time, we're going to wear hats or visors and have cigars (chocolate ones, since none of us smoke).

~ Singing. Karaoke makes the world a better place. I like to think my rendition of 'Til Tuesday's "Voices Carry" was heartfelt and haunting... or at the very least, not drunkenly warbly and off-key.

~ Talking. I've been having all these amazing conversations about Big Life Things. After spending so much time fulfilling my physical needs, it's refreshing to give my intellectual needs more attention.

~ Indulging my semi-guilty pleasures. Over the weekend, Coworker Chris and I cracked open a bottle of white wine, had some Thai food delivered, and watched a marathon of a certain endearing WB show that I dare not name. There was sighing, wardrobe commentary, and vocal agitation at characters' behaviors. It was awesome.

That's just part of it. All in all, I'd say I've been keeping pretty busy. No ice cream or Meg Ryan movies in sight...