Looking back...

As the year comes to an end, I have taken some time to look back on this past year. I don't do resolutions, knowing that no one, myself included, ever seems to follow through. What I did instead was set goals for myself, and for the first time, I actually achieved the goals that I set.

I started the year by starting a blog, this blog, and two others followed throughout the year. It's been therapeutic for sure, fun as hell, and helped me to see how much I like writing, expressing myself within this medium. Not to mention, highly entertaining to see my adventures and misadventures all in one spot!

I got out of a job that no longer made me happy. I wasn't being the best version of myself. As usual, I was scared of making a change and making something happen in my life. I changed that. I got my license (after too many tries) and quit my job. I took the opportunity to find out what I want to do with myself professionally and am taking positive steps to achieve these goals.

I made the goal to challenge myself this year, which was brought to life through my trip to Africa. It was more than I could have ever imagined, and I loved every minute of it. I can not believe what I got myself into, what I did, and how I never thought twice. I planned this trip on my own, joining another culture for two months, rode an ostrich, hiked mountains, went boarding on sand dunes, jumped out of a plane, camped for two weeks while driving through the African bush, and rafted on world class rapid at Victoria Falls. The trip taught me that I was stronger than I give myself credit for and lit something inside of me that has been lost for too long! I said I was living my life in black in white, and realize now the beauty and color I have in my life and I'm going to make sure that I maintain it.

While in Africa, a line from the movie Finding Nemo, kept running through my head - Just keep swimming. I know the strength and passion that I possess, and am going to keep swimming through my life, exploring, taking chances, kicking fear's ass, and keep moving forward. I am grateful for the changes I have made and the incredible year I have just had, I am so looking forward to what the new year has in store!

Weather Challenges

After 20" of snow in New York City, how's a girl supposed to look cute on a date? It's bad enough that two dates have been postponed as a result of this crazy blizzard. But now that the dates are set, the conflict continues.

Can I wear wellies on a date? Or do I sacrifice safety (the streets are slippery) and warmth (baby, it's cold outside) and go with the tall heeled boots.

Last year, the question was can I wear Uggs on a date. You know, it gets real cold here in New York and unlike many other cities, we're not driving around all the time, unless after paying exorbitant amount on rent you can afford car service or cabs to take you everywhere, clearly, I can't afford that. But I digress...

I polled friends before leaving for my date last night. One told me I had to wear the tall boots, after all, it was a first date, and I wanted to make a good impression. My two other friends were far more practical, instructing me to wear the wellies. After all, said one of my friends, "it's a disaster outside!" She continued to remind me that if a guy was going to judge me because I wear wellies a few days after a major storm, screw him!

As I trekked to my date, clear crosstown, jumping through puddles with a big smile on, I get to the restaurant where I meet my date. One of the first things he mentioned to me was how cute my boots were...

A new level of humiliation...

As I spent an evening with my pregnant friend and her husband, I got insight into the lives of a happily married couple who are expecting their first child any day now. It was cute to see him put together their second swing, arguing why baby needs two swings. It was funny to see her fight for a small sip of beer, exclaiming that baby was cooked, and what would a little beer do to baby now. Special note - don't mess with a full term pregnant lady...

Then the conversation turned to me and who I'm dating these days. My friend's husband gets into this, he wants to make sure that I date someone that is useful to him, still upset that I broke it off with guy who works for ESPN. For a couple that has been together for at least 10 years, they were curious as to how to even meet a guy these days. I know what that is like. After dating the same person for over six years, it is a daunting thing to think of how to date again, so I understood their curiosity.

I told them about my Internet dating adventure. They became intrigued, asking to see my profile, unsure of how the whole thing worked. And so started a new level of humiliation. They were beyond intrigued by the concept, continuing to quip at how "interesting" and "neat" the whole process was. They continued to remind me that they never needed to do that. Yea, I never thought I would either. But here I am, scoping guys on the Internet with your very pregnant friend and her husband weighing in on either side of the couch. Good times!

Why do we always need a direction?

As the year comes to an end, there always seems to be so much talk on accomplishments and goals for the future. Why do things in life need to be so concrete, so planned? The greatest thing about the adventures I have come back from recently is a lot of what I did was on a whim, without over thinking, without too much planning. I just did it, kept moving forward, with the faith that things would be OK. To be honest, the thought of this "go with the flow" attitude scared the crap out of me, and still does a little bit. But it felt good, I'm not going to lie.

I had high hopes that my trip, this grand adventure, would help me figure out the road ahead of me, where it would take me, what I should do, and who I am. No pressure, right? Instead, it helped me to see that I don't necessarily need to seek these things out, that maybe they will just come to me, so long as I keep pressing forward.

I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself

Thomas Merton Prayer

I don't need direction right now, I'll get there...

Prince Charming

While at a charity event last week, I met a dashing young man who seemed to sweep me off my feet. It may have been the way we danced to Christmas music, or perhaps the open bar. Either way, consider me swept.

We met again at the wine bar that he works. Yes, his place of employment. He is, a restaurant professional, his words, not mine. He has dreams of being a sommelier, living in France and Italy, and one day, having his own establishment, where he can create interesting libations for all to enjoy. Did I mention that he is 25 and lives at home with his father in Long Island. Dream shattered!

However, this boy is like Bambi, looking at me with these wide eyes, head over heels for me. And I have to say, the attention is quite nice, as was the endless glass of Cava that he provided me. I allow myself to see how this could get better, if I overlook his young age, poor choice in a roommate, and love of being a glorified waiter. Then in comes a little nugget of information that he has kept from me...

He is Prince Charming! For real, back in 2003, when he was young, strapping lad out of high school, he traveled to the far away land of Orlando, where he became Prince Charming, thanks to his dashing good looks, tree-like height, and shining smile! I died laughing!

Seriously, who says you can't meet your prince charming in a city of a million people? After all these frogs that I have kissed! Sadly, something must have gotten mixed up in the department of princesses and fairies (a real department at Disney, by the way). A prince he may be, but not for me...

Letting Go...

I read someplace that the moment you are willing to walk away from what is wrong is when things start getting right. It made instant sense to me. It's not secret that it's hard for me to "walk away" from things/people/situations. I think that is why I give people more chances than they should have. Closing a door is a hard thing. What I am starting to realize is how leaving that door open, even if it's just a crack, can create so much more damage, hindering the change I know I deserve.

What I'm stuck is where to get that willingness to let go, despite the heartache and general shit that has been in my life? Talk about being self-destructive, right? It shows the vicious cycle that is the comfort in what was familiar for so long. What was my life for so many years, and now I have to let it go, knowing that if I don't, I can't move forward.

One night I was out drinking with my friends. When the end of the night came and I went to leave, and couldn't seem to push the door open (yea, I had a lot to drink that night). Makes me wonder though, if I can't push a door open, theoretically speaking, and can't shut a door, where does that leave me?

I'm going to try this whole letting go thing. I don't want to be stuck in the middle...

The best way to put it!

As a single girl in New York City, it seems almost insurmountable to find that right guy. Sometimes, it's even hard to find a guy that is bearable enough to have a few drinks with.

While chatting with a very dear friend of mine, we talked about her upcoming date with a guy she met on Match.com. I asked if she thought this date would be a good one and get the following in response.

I'm sure it will be fun! I picked a place that's close to my apartment so I can make a quick escape if need be. I mean, I don't know... I feel like until you meet the person and see how tall they are, it's like trying to find a fart in a blizzard. Impossible to know!

I was laughing so hard I almost lost it! What a great way to put it! After regaining our composure, my radiant born and raised NYC friend continued, to inform that this perspective beau is a lawyer, born and raised in NYC, "so he could be deeply disturbed as are most of the people I grew up with!" Continuing with laughter, we resigned that the world of Internet dating continues to be worth a shot. And if nothing more, a few good laughs!

Drive by dating?

Although Internet dating has become more socially acceptable, I still find issue with it, but am trying to recognize the concept as another positive way to "get yourself out there." At least this what I keep telling myself.

So in the bars, there is the pick up with intent for immediate hook up, easy thing to spot. Then, late at night, after a few too many, there is the booty call. That phone call made coupled with poor decision making, that may make you groan in a few different ways come morning. I have found, that with Internet dating, there is a combination of these two situations that seems to be more and more prevalent...

Friday evening, after a long day in jury duty (yes, jury duty), I opted to stay in, watching movies and getting so rest for the weekend ahead. I went to my new online dating profile (ugh!) where I received an instant message. I checked out the profile, a little younger than I would prefer (27), but cute! We start chatting, he tells me I'm "real pretty", asks which part of town I live in and then immediately asks to meet for "a drink or whatever tonight". I politely tell him no, that my couch and DVR are calling me, but maybe another time. He responds "whatever" and then signs off.

It was like a drive by shooting, better yet, drive by dating?!? I've heard of guys using Internet dating as an escort service, but didn't really understand how that would all play out. I guess now I do... Never a victim, always a survivor, I will live to see another day of Internet dating, if that can be considered a good thing...

Worth It ...

Women tend to be more emotional. It's a scientific fact. What frustrates me about this trait is something I find in myself often. Why don't I believe in myself enough to turn away from a guy who is not good enough for me? Why do I continue to tolerate lazy fish, poor communicators, assholes? I can continued this list, which is embarrassing. But I've been with a lot of guys who just aren't good enough. What does that say about me? How I treat myself. If I don't treat myself well, why would others?

I try and remember that I can't make a guy be something he is not. I've tried that before, it just doesn't work. I am working on channeling that energy to strengthen me, help me to stand up for myself more. I know that when the right person comes along, he's going to want to be with me, with such veracity and passion - I'll know. And he'll know I'm worth it!

The importance of confidence and a personality....

There is nothing worse then blind dates. Unfortunately, I seem to go on quite a few of them. The only thing that makes a blind date bearable is lots of vodka and a guy with confidence and personality. There wasn't enough vodka in the world to make my date tonight bearable.

Let's call him Al. A little nervous when we spoke on the phone a few nights ago. I made a joke, letting him know we can put the awkward behind us and move on with the conversation. Clearly this was a challenging task. Challenging enough that when we actually met for cocktails, even the double whiskey he ordered didn't help.

Two hours and three drinks later, I had watched this man fidgeting and eating all the sesame sticks from the bar mix, while nervously drinking his whiskey and alternating with frantic sips of water. All he talked about was how much he hates his sister and loves Brooklyn. Occasionally he would try and woo me with stories of how he creates drink recipes for fun. This was intriguing for about 5 minutes, but did not have much staying power. Which was the same for Al.

As he walked me to Union Square, I asked which way he was getting home, only to find he walked out of his way to escort me to the train. To which I responded, Really? You walked all this way for me? Well yes he replies... He looked like I had just run over his puppy dog. Clearly he thought the date was going better than I did. I thanked him for the drinks and wished him a good night.

Chivalry exists I suppose, but it's hard to notice when there is a lack of personality and confidence... And so ends another blind date in the big city!

Make it happen...

A friend of mine told me a while ago that if I guy wanted to be with me, he'd make an effort to do so. She advised that I shouldn't have to do all the work (texting, planning and so on). He should make the moves and the efforts to be with me, after all, I am worth it. Although I think this is a little old fashioned, it makes sense. Unfortunately, I feel like it's hard to find the guys who can follow through and make things happen.

I'm a fairly forgiving person, giving people more chances than they generally deserve. There is this guy that I met out. He was very attentive and seemingly motivated to hang out, texting me through the wee hours of the morning when we first met, and hoping to hang out the next day! Logistics didn't allow for this to happen, and now, three and half weeks later, with two canceled dates (on his end), does he really think he's getting another chance?

If you want to hang out with me, you find a way to make it happen, and that's that...

A nickname no boy should want...

There was this guy in college, who transferred to my school sophomore year. During his first week, we met at a fraternity party where we all had a little too much to drink. He came back to my dorm room with me to "hang out". Like many college students, he demonstrated difficulty in holding his liquor and puked all over my dorm room and continued down the hallway as well. My sorority sisters witnessed this and the poor thing has forever been named and remembered as "puke boy". Not a way to make an impression.

I never thought I would have to encounter such a disaster since that fateful night over ten years ago. But as with many things, history tends to repeat itself. Aren't I lucky!

Last night I met up with a friend that I met in Africa, a heavy night of drinking followed and a few select dive bars on the Upper East Side. Living out of the City, I offered my couch as a spot for him to crash. As he gets back to my apartment at who only knows what time (this is what four shots of jager will do), I hear him getting sick in my bathroom. I ask if he is okay and let him know that there was mouthwash in the cabinet.

I stumble out of bed a few hours later and head to the bathroom, where I find puke EVERYWHERE! Seriously! On the walls, behind the toilet, on the floor, everywhere! I have no idea how you can miss the toilet that much, but he did (that is assuming he even got anything in the toilet). I wake him up and all he can say is "I tried to clean it up." Terrible! Needless to say, he cleaned it up later and I made him buy me lunch.

And so a new Puke Boy is named...

The idea of "him"...

For a single girl at the holidays, there can be nothing worse than being on your own. It's not that I miss anyone in particular, or even that there is anyone out there right now that I want to be with. It's the idea of "him", which always seems to be more magnified around the holidays. Knowing you have someone to sit with alongside your crazy family, at your friends holiday parties, and to kiss on New Year's Eve.

I mean, there is always the spiced cider that we have at my house on Thanksgiving. It's right next to me all night, enough to keep me warm inside, and makes the family stuff far more bearable. It even makes the rumblings of "are you dating anyone?" or "you'll find that someone special..." entertaining.

That new Marc Jacobs bag is a fabulous companion at friends holiday parties, accompanied by the right outfit, really a match made in heaven. And if I drink enough champagne at New Year's I won't even realize that I'm alone, or better yet, find someone to kiss at midnight, even if I never see him again.

Still the idea of having that person, an actually hand to hold. It's a nice idea. And one I would be lying if I said I didn't want.

The importance of turning your phone off at night...

Last night, after a few margaritas, I was smart enough to turn my phone off before going to bed, never knowing what disruption can come in the wee hours of morning.

This summer, there was this bartender at a local establishment that I became friends with, obviously for the free beers he would provide me, although he was hoping for a bit more. Sad for him, great for me. He has since been fired from this establishment (shame!) but was nice enough to call me. Leaving me the following message at 1:45am.

Hi friend... This is your old bartender. Tom. I don't even know if you remember me, it was so long ago [it was August]. But uh, yea... Just calling to see what you're up to. I'm in Boston in EMT school right now. Um, I just wanted to hear some similar unemployed stories from somebody else. I don't even know if you've got a job or whatever since, but... I was just curious how the return home worked out, because I know you lost your job. Yea, but anyway...

We had a good time though. I'm in Boston. Give me a call back though. I'm in Boston.

I still remember your first name, which is really important because I never learned your last name. So that's like 3/4 of a friendship commitment right there, if you think about it, scientifically. But I know you were more social science oriented and not science arts, so, I don't know.

I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hope it's well. Alright. Bye.

Man I miss that free beer. The slurred late night phone calls, not so much...

Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a lucky girl...

I was in between appointments and grabbed a cappuccino at the Stumptown Coffee Roasters in the Ace Hotel. I settled in the library bar in the hotel's lobby, attempting to read. My attention was diverted from my novel to the hipsters sitting at the bar chatting.

The one guy is telling his buddy he is going to propose to his girlfriend. His buddy gives him the bro hug, you know, the one where he leads in with his shoulder and doesn't make too much contact. I'm captivated as he continues, sharing that he feels that he has "won the prize" and she makes him "a better person." They finish their beers and leave, as his buddy continues with the well wishes and the guy shines with this spectacular look on his face!

I'm glad I witnessed this. It's one of those moments, that restores your faith and makes you hope that you will make someone feel the same way one day. Despite his beer in the middle of the day and poor wardrobe choices, his girl, whoever she is, is a lucky woman.

Attention to Detail

I have a tendency to skip details from time to time, but nothing is worse than the email I just received from an old fling (the one who was more into David Gregory - http://theunsinkablemollybrownnyc.blogspot.com/2010/06/yea-he-said-that.html). I mean, he did mention that we should get together again, albeit 4 months ago...

hello all - sorry for the blast, but my phone decided it didn't want to remember anyone's phone numbers when I got back from Asia, so will you all please send me your contact info? Thanks!

Note to him... Pay attention to the details and stop being lazy, don't send a mass email to a girl you haven't spoken to in months.

Really man!

The Night My Sister Pimped Me Out

With my sister in town, it's usually a pretty good time. This particular weekend, was no exception. As we head to Brooklyn (yes, Brooklyn) for a Blues Traveler concert (really, this is the truth), we had some objectives. Fun, obviously, but if my sister could either find me a job or a date, she would get bonus points. Here is how the night unfolded...

After a rousing game of Brooklyn bingo (points for plaid, plastic rimmed glasses, facial hair, strange hats, etc...), we sat down for a little bite to eat with our drinks. My sister starts talking to this bubbly girl, who just happens to be Rachel Ray's cousin. No joke! Here I'm thinking, maybe I'll get a job with Rachel Ray, how great! Rachel Ray is there, at the concert. My sister goes over, dances by her, hugs her husband, and continues to work towards making a move, but is unsuccessful in the end.

Our focus shifts as we realize that we need better seats. I spot this cute guy, who happens to be on the upper level. My sister goes up to him, starts chatting, points at me, and next thing you know, we are in the VIP section, free drinks, food, and a guy who happens to be totally into me.

My sister totally pimped me out, earning her bonus points and multiple free drinks (which she paid for the next day). What I get? A cute boy who is eager to go out with me and a great weekend with my sister!

Networking - The New Pick Up Spot?

So I'm looking for work and putting myself out there, making a ridiculous amount of networking events. Now, I have heard people make the comparison of networking and dating. I get that, really. I mean, you dress up, put on a happy face, and seek out that connection. But I didn't really think that people would be at these events seeking out jobs and more.

At a recent NYU alumni event, I started chatting with this man after the speaker finished. He was older and married, looking to stop selling his soul in finance and seek out something with a little more heart. As we took the subway back uptown, we continued chatting. I found him an interesting contact (and nothing more). We exchanged cards and he head back to the suburbs to his wife and kids.

A passenger sitting next to me on the train started laughing once the doors shut and the train continued uptown, asking if that was the end of a date. I laughed and stated that we had just come from a networking event together. To which I got the following reply...

"Lady, that guy was interested in more than you job aspirations..."

Trick or Treat

As I am contemplating what slightly skanky version of something I should consider for the Halloween party I am attending this evening, my attention is driven to underneath my bookcase, where I see a little mouse scuttling by.

Instead of freaking out (as I did in my old apartment when I had the same issue), I calmly sat on my couch, pausing the old Friends episode I was watching, and got bothered. Ugh, now I have to get off my ass and get mouse traps, when what I really need to be doing is my hair and getting myself ready for this party.

I throw on my old college sweatshirt (which had spaghetti sauce down the front of it), skinny jeans and my flip flops and head over to the Duane Reade with my hair half done. I am surrounded by the slutty cop, the naughty nurse, and Tarzan as I ask the staff where I can find mouse traps. Yes, I am buying mouse traps, not body glitter, not beer, not candy.

As I set the traps, finish doing my hair (which came out great, by the way), and throw my witch's hat on, I realize, I am not about games. I take care of business and move forward. So take that my little mouse squatter!

**Writer's Note - the mouse has yet to be caught, but I am happily sharing my space**

The wrong attention...

As I settle back into reality, I am throwing myself into my life and more importantly, the job search - recognizing that the rent isn't going to pay itself. I find, however, that I keep getting the "wrong" attention in both areas.

I feel refreshed and revived, knowing I deserve better than I was getting before, both personally and professionally, but I guess the world hasn't caught up with me just yet. I figure, all attention should be good, right? Not so much. As a friend of the family set me up with a contact in my field, I went off for an interview, although I was skeptical that this will be a match. I was right. After two interviews and an insulting job offer, it almost makes me feel that my luck in finding that perfect job opportunity is bleak, especially since this has the only contact I have had.

On a more personal note, I continue to get calls from an ex, who is so eager to pay me the attention that he decided I wasn't good enough for almost a year ago. Persistence may pay off in the job market, but not as far as this is concerned

Let's hope the stars align and the attention turns more fruitful, as I continue to edit who I allow myself to receive attention from. I might be trying to put myself out there on all sorts of levels, but this is just the beginning...

Predictability

It's been a little overwhelming since coming home from Africa. There is so much going on around me, so much access, so many people - a definite deviation from the bush. I've been a bit of a hermit, keeping myself in my apartment, slowly integrating back within my world.

As I head out with friends to watch the Phillies (who ultimately choked), we landed at a local dive bar. Surprise of all surprises, everyone there was under 30 and in finance. I'm so over the predictability and realizing I know what I can get from that scene - not much.

I'll take my chance on me today, seeing what I can come up with, recognizing based on recent experiences that it is a hell of a lot less predictable than what NYC men have been able to offer me.

A Different Kind of Junkie...

As I have been in Africa now for a few weeks, I'm realizing that my priorities are changing. I am becoming a different kind of "junkie". No longer am I focused on seeking the perfect date and navigating the single scene in New York City. What I am seeking are new, more exciting adventures. I can navigate the dating scene, there isn't much new there (as it turns out), it has become quite predictable. Today, it's adventure, it's the adrenaline rush I'm after.

Last night while listening to the bull frogs and relaxing under the stars, I started chatting with a local guy, who offered to take me around Victoria Falls and show me all I need to see before I leave. Great, I think to myself, a little date in the middle of Africa! As I head out first thing in the morning for my white water rafting trip along the Zambezi River (boasting class 4 and 5 rapids, by the way), I was excited for the power packed day, including my afternoon rendezvous.

As soon as I capsized on the first rapid, I needed more. The idea of leaving after a half day of rafting was no longer satisfying. I needed to continue, chasing after the feel good feeling that this rush provided. With no way to contact my impromptu tour guide, I continued along the river, getting tossed around and rushing through the most amazing adventure!

Upon my return, this poor guy was sitting waiting for me, two hours later. Shame! With bruises, mud, and a huge smile on my face, I let him gently know that my heart was on the river that day...

Do I need to spell it out for you?

The only problem with spending so much time with the same people over a few weeks is the relationships can seem a little more "intense" then they actually are. The Jewish boy from Tennessee (see a few blog entries back) is a prime example of this.

After having to curb his continued desires to take me to dinner and commentary about how I am so pretty, everything came to a head. As were were chatting after work in his apartment, he asked "So, do I have a chance with you?" Caught off guard by his direct and bold statement, I replied kind at first, laughing and blowing off the question altogether. He continued to be persistent and I gave him all that was in my repertoire, including, we're such good friends, I'm only here for a few weeks, and that's not really my focus on this trip.

His response:

"Come on Molly, you are really going to paint yourself into that corner? Allowing yourself to miss out on something like this? Come on, I think I have a chance."

I have lost my patience at this point, letting him know, sadly, that he has "zero chance". This is still not enough to pacify him. He demands reasons. I go through my list again. Does he really need me spell it out for him? I mean, I'm on the verge of letting him know that i don't find him attractive and his personality is lacking as well, but my best judgement stops me and I politely and coyly tell him to just drop it. He lets me know that he'll stop trying to pursue me, but I will regret it.

I think I'm willing to take those chances...

Same Thing, Different Continent

Thinking things will be dramatically different in my social scene here in Cape Town, South Africa, as usual, I have been sorely mistaken.

Out with my roommates and other new friends on Friday night, we headed to Long Street. Cape Town's version of Bourbon Street and the hub of most of the night life here in town. After an hour or two at one bar, we ended our evening at a place called the Dubliner. A lovely little Irish bar with great music and cheap drinks. Next thing I know, its 4am in the morning (what do I still think I'm in New York?) and my roommate and I are chatting with two guys she had met the night before from New York.

Seriously, I come halfway around the world and end up chatting with two guys from New York, one living in Queens and the other in Nyack. Both in finance, of course... Unfortunately, there are few places to continue to hang out after 4am in Cape Town and my roommate decided it would be a great time to challenge the boys to climbing Lion's Head, working to convince the boy she liked that she could "beat him up the mountain".

I should have known better, working to leave well enough alone. Unfortunately, good judgement isn't always my strong suit. As my roommate and I heading back to the apartment of the two New York boys (I couldn't leave her alone after all), I kept thinking to myself, same shenanigans, different continent.

**Safety Note** I made it back to my apartment safe and sound at 9am. With my email requested by the boy living in Nyack, so we can "hang out" when I return stateside.

It's Like I can't Escape...

So as I travel to Africa, I had the belief that it would give me new experiences and get me away from the dreadful dating scene I have encountered recently. As it turns out, as I was in the airport at 2am in Cape Town, I would have no such luck. There is a guy here, from Tennessee, Jewish, and in finance. Being the friendly girl that I am, I started chatting with him, excited to meet someone from my program and make a friend. It took about twelve hours for him to start saying how he feels obligated to pay for my ostrich burger, "After all, I'm the guy." I remind him that we aren't on a date. He continues to let me know that we have so much in common and we can do all these things together, asking how I feel about an overnight trip to the Winelands.

Hold up! Its only day two! Not to mention I am so not interested. Either way, he's a nice guy, who will be renting a car during his time and has his own computer. These are the things I care about and nothing more...

Moving on...

I have found that it is time to move on - challenge myself with another adventure. It was so much for me to pick up my life and move back to New York. And I couldn't be more pleased with the outcome. I've never had more fun and met better people than I have within the past two years. But I am feeling the need for a change, albeit temporary.

Just as I packed up a house and placed my life into a walk-up studio on the Upper East Side, I am packing once again, and placing my life into a backpack. I'm heading to Africa to see what else is out there. I'll be the novice nomad, ready to take on whatever life brings me, on a whole other level.

I have found the ability to manage the wilds of concrete jungle, and am feeling confident that I can master the African bush as well. Stay tuned!

Where are all the thirty-year old men?

As I have been heading out to the bars with friends, I find myself asking, where are all the thirty-year old men? Yes, I do go the occasional spot that may tend to resemble a fraternity house, but even at better venues, it seems that all the men I encounter are twenty-five and under.

As I was out enjoying the warm weather at one of my favorite outdoor spots, my friends and I were approached by these two boys (and I emphasize boys). One looked exactly like my sister's 13 year old neighbor - no joke! We started chatting, and they talked about starting a new job and being excited to live in the city. However, they do not live in the city, they live in New Jersey, with their parents. And, it's their first job, right out of college, as they JUST graduated in May!

I am starting to feel older and older, especially when the guys that are surrounding me were still in high school when I graduated college. There is something to be said about the energy of the young. I'm all for that, but would love it to be in a package that carries a little more age!

The Door Man

It's a coveted thing to have a door man when scoping out real estate in New York City. They do so much more then just open the door, they hail cabs, and accept packages, dry cleaning, and guests. I believe that they are the holder of all New York secrets, as I know they hold some of mine.

When hanging out with a guy who lives in a door man building, I believe that it brings a level of insecurity for me. First comes the need for acceptance, the question the door man asks as you enter the building, "excuse me, who are you seeing?" Then comes the waiting in the foyer for the guy to approve your arrival. Lastly, the late night/early morning exit. Never a good look. There is the walk of shame, which has its own level of humiliation, but its a whole other thing when it starts with the door man watching you skulk out.

It may be coveted, but for me, my walk up studio, with nothing more than a buzzer, makes me far happier! Who needs that extra level of shame masked as "security" anyway?

The Boy Who Followed Me Home

It's a fantasy of mine, to have the perfect story, about the perfect guy, and how you met. I feel that these stories are one and million, and for those who say they have met in such a "perfect" way, I believe they are lying. However, for a brief moment, I believed that I was in the middle of what could be, a tremendous and totally romantic story.

I was on the 4 train, heading back to the Upper East Side. Well dressed with aviator sunglasses on, plugged into his ipod, there he was, sitting across from me on the subway. It was a Friday night and I was heading home from work to a big night of nothing. I see him sitting there, smile, glancing over at him every so often, while grooving along to my own play list. I get off at my stop and he follows. I shake it a little extra, feeling confident as I stride home. Looking behind me, I notice he is still there. Getting a little high off the attention and excitement, we continue to walk, this time side by side, with 87th street between us. We keep glancing over to each other, with no moves made, resigning to let him make the first move.

As we cross over second avenue, the construction blocks him and I believe he is gone, but am thankful to have a bit of excitement for the evening. As I head up the stairs and into my building, I turn around and there he is - waving me back to the stoop. Amazed, I step outside and start a conversation with this man, thanking him for walking me home.

He's from Venezuela and asked me to his apartment for "good music and great wine". I appreciate his boldness, recognizing that American men are missing this bravado. After politely declining (I'm not stupid!), I offer my number and the option for drinks later in the week.

Instead of a fairy tale, I end up with a nightmare - which I have turned into nothing more than another story. We met later that week for drinks. I do believe he was high on cocaine and definitely not able to sit still, stop talking, or stop touching me. After two beers I leave, with him trailing behind, telling me that he can't wait to see me again. This turns into numerous text messages and phone calls, at all hours, without leaving a message. After three weeks without responding, he has finally stopped.

So here ends the story of the boy who followed me home. Like so many other stories, it started with such potential. Just goes to show that fairy tales aren't reality in this city, but it still won't stop me from believing.

Insanity?

Another Monday night, getting home late from work and eating tacos while watching old Sex in the City episodes (so glamorous right?) Carrie asks herself, while brunching with the girls, whether or no they continue to date the same guy over and over again, expecting different results...

With taco in hand, I scream to Carrie - YES!!! A revelation between bites, I realize that I am dating the same man, over and over again, expecting different results. Embarrassed that I am talking to my television, I think about this. Why do I keep spending time with the same loser guys, knowing that things aren't going anywhere, but believing that maybe, it might just be different.

I see my pattern. Nice guy, good looking - but not too good looking, good job, and well educated. Sounds pretty reasonable right? What I end up getting (or settling for) is a guy with limited personality, immaturity, mediocre skills, mommy/family issues, unbalanced work ethic, and a path leading to no where.

Looks like I'm in need of short circuiting this hard wired behavior. After all, the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again, expecting different results...

The Banana that Mocked Me...

As I stop by my local fruit stand, buying what may be the most delicious berries, I got quite the surprise. The nice man bags my berries and informs that he put a "nice banana" in there for me.

He let me know that he thought I would like this nice banana, that it looked like "I needed it."

First of all, I HATE bananas! I was trying to not feel as though I was being mocked by both the banana and the fruit man. So I politely declined, taking the banana out of the bag, letting him know I had all the bananas I needed!

Vodka = The Enemy

You know, I'm not 20 years old anymore. Back in the day, it was all vodka, all the time. I was taking shots like it was nothing, without any after effect! That is not the case ten years later.

My girls and I decide for a Saturday night in the city. I go over to a friend's apartment to pre-game. My first bad decision on the evening. The vodka continues to flow. My recollection fades. There were shots involved. This is what I remember or have been able to put together...

* Random phone calls to guys I should not be contacting

* Digestion challenges (to put it nicely) while in the cab ride home

* A late night visitor that I have no recollection of summoning

* An interesting stain on my dress and bedspread (resulting from too many
cocktails) that I didn't even realize until 4:00pm the next day

Needless to say, I'm sticking to beer and wine from this point on. I was hungover for two days, made some poor decisions with an ex, AND had a huge dry cleaning bill!

Is this a set-up?

As I was leaving Miami and deciding where to live next (as if it was such a choice), my parents recommended that I move to Atlanta. I knew NO ONE in Atlanta! My parents reminded me that a friend of theirs has two sons who live there and they could "show me around." Clearly this did not entice me and time moved on.

Over the 4th of July holiday, I was sitting at the beach with family and friends and the two boys from Atlanta show up. I get the hard sell prior to their arrival. "You should talk to our son" "Do you know that you and our son have so much in common?" I even got an invite to a barbecue. "You should come, our son will be there..."

We are talking quite the fairy tale here. Two sets of Jewish parents, trying to set up their over 30 year old children - who live hundreds of miles from each other. My last relationship was the result of a set up. At first, I thought it was so cute. I mean, what a great story! I was sorely mistaken and have been cautious of efforts to be set up since.

Boot Camp

Like many New York City girls, I'm trying real hard to stay in shape this summer. I decided to try out boot camp. I went with a co-worker thinking to myself, if she can do this, so can I, right? Not so much.

I did well for the first five minutes, surprising myself that my old running skills came back. Then came the steps. We must have run at least 100 flights of steps. After the steps were done, it was push up time. Now I can do a push up (you know, like a girl, knees down), which didn't work out so well on the hard floor.

An hour later, I'm not feeling so confident or strong. I am feeling winded and worst of all, I have bruised knees! Definitely not the look to have in the summer with the short skirts and all...

Looking Hot

It's something to embrace - the heat in New York City. All weekend long, I tried to beat the heat. Keeping myself cool as often as possible, and trying to make the cute outfits work. The cold beers and pitchers of margaritas helped!

Today was something totally different. I tried a new spin class. I've been feeling sporty and really out did myself this evening. After forty minutes of hell, where the instructor told me to work harder, sharing that Michael Jackson and Eminem are asking me to - I'm drenched!

I head back down to the locker room, grab my stuff and realize, I don't have another shirt to change into! I head out of the gym to begin my trek back uptown. With my head held high, I tried really hard to making looking hot work for me!

Missed Connection

You passed me at the 77th Street Station. I was heading through the turnstile - downtown. You had just gotten off the train. It was hot underground, but your smile was cool. You said hello, how are you. I was shocked, smiled, surprised at this bold move. I head through the turnstile, look back, to see you looking at back at me. I laugh, blown away at your candor! You stand there, with the turnstiles between us. Why didn't you say something, come back through? I actually start fanning myself, partly from the heat and partly from the flattery. You longer and then walk away.

It would have been the perfect story! Instead, it's just one great missed connection.

Yea, he said that....

I have gone out on a few dates with this one guy and still find myself on the fence. However, our last date's dialogue really assisted in the decision making.

I wish it was the day's worth of drinking that made things as strange as they became, but no such luck. I headed to his place for take out and a movie. Domino's and "When in Rome" (his choice - no joke). I am far from impressed but the wine is helping. The date continues, its late, I stay over. In the morning, following bad direction from the bad romantic comedy, things escalate, but like any roller coaster, the excitement doesn't last long.

At this point, I am reminded, and I kid you not, "Oh, Meet the Press is on!" Seriously?!? How is the thought of David Gregory winning over me right now? I pass on engaging in this discussion. I bring up how hungry I am, and how I could use an egg sandwich (the best hang over cure by the way). I am met with, "yea, I don't eat breakfast". Well that sucks for you, but what about me? As I am realizing I can't be the star of this show, I let myself out, with a slice of cold Domino's in hand.

"So let's try and hang out again next week." Yea, I don't think so. But enjoy David Gregory...

The Lazy Fish

My friend and I have been working on this theory. Manhattan is a big fish bowl. There is a lot you can see - old fish (exes, one night stands, bad decisions), big fish (crushes, celebrities, solid catch), scum (self explanatory), and lastly - The Lazy Fish.

Go to any bar at happy hour, and you'll see - a bustling fish bowl, full of activity and fish on the prowl. My friend believes that the man should come to you. A kind of "make him work for you" thought process. I'm impulsive, I need to make things happen and I have very little patience. I am trying to embrace this concept of making him come to me. But as I am starting to realize, here in Manhattan, most men are lazy fish, and waiting for them to get their act together, could take a lifetime. I have wasted enough time already.

My friend tries to give me examples of guys that have come up to us. I have managed to dispute each example. I'm a smart fish. I'm calculated. I believe most women are. We'll dress up, pick the perfect place to go, position ourselves accordingly, sit a certain way, whatever. All to lure the man that we are interested in. So even if he does come to us, we have already baited the hook, threw out the line, so all the lazy fish has to do is open his mouth.

Most men in Manhattan can recognize that if they have a good job and are halfway good looking, all they have to do is sit there, and open wide.

And so the theory continues to be tested.

Technical Difficulties

It continues to be my pet peeve - how technology has really impacted the dating scene. Actually, I can't even say the dating scene, because in this case, we're aren't even at that stage yet. I'm talking just communication, setting a time to see each other - making it happen!

I met this great guy at a charity event. We seemed to have hit it off well and spent a majority of the event and afterward chatting, hanging out, and drinking excessive amounts. We end up back at my apartment, where difficulties ensue - the technical kind. Leaving it at that, we exchanged numbers with the hopes of trying to see what we can "work out."

Text messaging. That's the form of communication that follows. It is so damn passive! "Yea, work sucks" "Man I wish it was weekend" "Is it five o'clock yet?" "A drink would be good right now."

How about asking me for a drink. Let's set it up and make it happen. Simply put. I do believe that setting up drinks shouldn't be all that complicated! Yet weeks have passed at this point, and he can't seem to close the deal, for the second time!

The Dud

Last night, I may have gone on the worst date ever. Seriously. It's an hour of my life that I will never get back. I feel like I have said that before.

This guy and I have been emailing back and forth for a few weeks, I was pretty optimistic, until he canceled at the last minute over the weekend. I'm talking an hour before we were supposed to meet, at a still undisclosed location. I should have known then. As we rescheduled for last night, he tries to cancel again, upset that I am unable to meet him until 8pm. I told him it shouldn't be this complicated, that 8pm was best for me. He emails me back, sharing how excited he is to meet me, picks a place and the date is set.

I look up the bar. The website promotes that this bar would be where Carrie Bradshaw would have drinks with Jimmy Stewart. Not so much. This place is in Murray Hill (ugh!), and would be lucky to even be considered a glorified sports bar. I meet the Dud, who has way too much cologne on and NO personality.

I think he may have been high. I hope for his sake that his lack of personality was because he was high. He had a funny eye, and was looking at my from his good eye all night, with his hands crossed against his chest, continuing to say, yeah... To everything!

I can talk to a paper bag. Really, I can talk to anyone for a long time. But this guy really challenged me. I started asking him what his favorite food was. Seriously! I downed my wine in record time as he nursed his beer. We finished are drinks and he walked me to the bus, which thankfully was right there, and tried to kiss me. I gave him the cheek and ran, calling a friend and meeting for drinks and post date wrap up.

Today, I get the following:

Hi Molly,

How are you? It was great to meet you last night. Let me know if you want to get together again.

The Dud

Seriously? Was he on the same date as I was?

Hypocrisy

It's a job hazard I guess, to be overly aware of the alcohol I consume. Recently, after a open bar charity event, I consumed quite a few drinks well into the wee hours of morning. As I stumbled out of bed to head to work (ugh!), I realize just how destructive the night before was and how crappy I feel. Fortunately, I have the ability to Breathalyze myself upon getting to the office. It's a little game my co-workers and I play - keeps things interesting! My record is pretty impressive, enough to send my patients to rehab. However on this morning, I surprisingly came up clear! I was shocked, as was my co-worker, who was with me the night before...

As I am struggling through my morning group, breathalyzing my patients, someone else does not end up as lucky as me. Numbers are blown and the law has to get laid down. My patient tries to convince me that he only had one 22oz Old English (classy!) at 2am. Now I'm thinking to myself, I had about 6-7(yikes!) drinks until at least 3am, and I blew zeros. Who does he think he is kidding?!?

Obviously I can't share this rational. He is now on his way to rehab, if he's lucky enough not to lose his job. I am still employed and just got a raise. Hypocrisy is fun!

Getting Old?

A sad thing happened today. I've been emailing back and forth with a new guy. I am trying to be hopeful although I am think he may just be another dull Jewish lawyer, they tend to underwhelm.

We go to set our date for tomorrow. He informs me he works until 9, can we meet then? My first thought it - 9pm? On a school night? Then I think, what am I going to do until 9pm while still trying to look cute and keep from falling asleep.

Instead of focusing on the great spot we are meeting, and the potentially (hopefully?!?) great guy, I focus on how I am going to stay awake for a week night date that starts at 9pm. What the hell?!? When did I get so old?

Scumbag

As I am out the other night with friends, I met a somewhat decent guy. He was British - known now as British Dick 2 (there was an original British Dick, but that is a whole other story). The accent always throws me off and I miss characteristics that might otherwise be noticed. As he is texting another girl while talking to me, I clued in and started to check out. However, my friend was keen on his friend, so the wing man in me kept the conversation going (the flowing drinks helped too). The night ends, he asks for my number, I give it to him and head home.

Days pass, no word. I'm not all that bummed or worried, as I am recognizing there is no real loss. As I was out at an event later this week I run into him again (seriously small city!) Bored and slightly intoxicated, I text him, mentioning what a pity it is that he never called me. At this time, I'm staring right at him. He sees me and waves my friends and I over (including the same girl his friend was chatting with the other night). As I make jokes at his expense, he starts talking to my friend - whatever!

Fast forward to today, my friend tells me he texted her, getting her number from his friend. He wants to take her out for drinks, she says, "would you mind?" Seriously? You'd consider going out with him? He's no property of mine, but what a scumbag? Not sure what is worse in this whole scenario, that my friend is considering going out with this guy or that he is such a scumbag to take her out after chasing me?

There has got to be something better out there than this...

Going Green? Not for Me

There is all this talk about going green, reducing your carbon footprint, recycling and saving the world. I believe I am all for that or at least I try, I tend to get lazy. My new project, however, is NOT recycling, recognizing that it's not good for my environment, toxic even!

Now of course I'm not talking about the environment here. I'm talking about the desert that has become my dating life and dating prospects. In a city with all these men, they seem to be no where around me or not interested. Except for the ones from my past. So, like every responsible woman, I decide to recycle. Worst decision! Here's what I got from this experiment...

A lot of feelings of guilt and shame with one of the guys. After all, he left me, so clearly that makes me feel great that I'll just head back over and hang with him. Now that the guilt and shame has subsided, I get phone calls. Lots of them. Let's talk, let's catch a movie, just checking to see how you are? I'm hoping that now a week has passed, the phone calls will stop.

The next guy, this was sad, because I would really like things to work out. Unfortunately, I can't make someone into something he is not. This I have learned the hard way. From this experiment, I got a great dinner, a feeling of strength (after a few tears), and a blister. The bastard picked a place to eat that is beyond out of the way for me, and wouldn't even walk me back cross town - and I was in heels!

Then there is the last recycling project - Bad Date Bobby. Unfortunate really, for he has redeemed himself in so many ways. But what I am realizing is, once again, he can't be what I want him to be, so why keep banging my head against that wall.

As I was out this weekend, on the town with the girls, my friend made a great comment. "I'm so over all the boys in my phone." I second that! So I'm spring cleaning - letting go of all that has been toxic! Which means no more recycling. I'll be working from a clean slate, with nothing but footprints behind me, and that is perfectly fine!

You Want a Piece of Me?

I am starting to believe I am more and more unsinkable. Here's why...

As I head out with my co-worker yesterday, to guiltily soak up a little of the sunshine while we grab lunch, I realize that my cute summer bag is a little on the light side. I peer into the empty bag, well, almost empty - my granola bar was still there, I realized that there are a few things missing...

My shit got jacked at work AGAIN! Occupational hazard in working with the people that I work with. I get why someone would want my wallet. It makes the most sense. The metro card I can understand as well. What really threw me for a loop was that my makeup bag was stolen. What the hell? What is someone going to do with my makeup?!?!

I am starting to realize that I deal quite well with adversity. Shifting into survival mode or something - usually with Britney Spears playing the soundtrack in the background, like my own version of a superhero! I canceled my cards and got new ones sent out. I got a round trip metro card from the office administrator. Held in my real thoughts to my boss, which worked in my favor, allowing me to leave early and get him to pay for the stolen makeup (do you know how much that costs?)

As I walk out of my office and head back to my apartment, I managed to find a way to enjoy the gorgeous afternoon, pick up my passport, get my makeup done for me (by the lovely gay man at Sephora)and am perfectly primed for a lovely evening at the Bryant Park bar for drinks.

Was I really going to let this get me down? Absolutely not! It takes more than that...

Baggage

I found myself getting sad while watching How I Met Your Mother the other night. Great show, usually makes me laugh, this week, however, not so much. On the subject of baggage, the discussion was made that the old we get, the more likely we are to encounter a potential mate with baggage.

Feeling as though I am the queen of baggage, I get worried. I've been on dates, judging others for their shit. No significant relationship, no hair, mommy issues, and physical deformities to name a few. But am I being judged as well? Where does that leave me? I can't change what I carry with me, despite my best efforts. I have moved on from it, but its like that crazy STD that just won't go away!

The question becomes, do I have to find someone with more baggage than me? Because that would really suck! Then I'd be looking down the suburban driveway of a balding divorcee, as he drops his kids back off with their mother. I'm thinking that there has got to be something better than that!

As I chat about this with friends, it's determined that it is best not to settle, which can get hard, sitting with all that discomfort, and receding hairlines!

Is it Luck?

As I was out to dinner the other night with a friend, I realized that is hard to be a single girl in NYC. I know, so cliche, right? It's not that kind of story. We were chatting, talking strategy I guess. Trying to make each other feel better?

She calls her Internet dating a collection of blind dates. Apparently it's a more user friendly term for her. I call my Internet dating a disaster. No better way to put it. After war stories of bad dates and bad decisions, we trade stories about our recent outings with girlfriends. She talks of her roommate, who has been single for less than a second, with three dates lined up, after a night on the town without even brushing her hair. I shared my stories of being the only one not talked to an an event the other night, or at least not talked to by anyone good. Meanwhile, my friend who has been single for less than a minute, managed to find a guy and go on a date with him - that night. Me? I went home after a night of free martinis which led to free beer, alone, waking up with a hangover, and a bad taste in my mouth (the drunk dials that I had made didn't help either).

So I'm going to try a new strategy, which simply put, includes not trying at all. Having fun! Respecting myself! Not drinking to excess would be helpful too (no one likes a mess)! I've started working on this already and it's been great! I might not have the exciting stories of a reckless night out, but I don't have the bad dates or bad memories to deal with either.

Its a small city, despite the hype. There is a guy out there for me, and man, is he going to be excited to find me...

WANTED...

After dealing with total hell thanks to a computer virus and a defunct modem, I realized that the best date that I have had in a while was with Kel, the computer tech in India via Dell Technical Support. Sad but true, after 4 hours on the phone, I felt a connection, he could feel my pain, and was not only eager but willing to assist me. What more could a girl want, right? Except many a man in NYC instead of India? As I am throwing a tantrum and feeling utterly helpless, surrounded by a box that may the router or may be the modem, I start thinking of the perfect want ad...

A man who knows how to scan my computer and keep it from getting every bad virus know to man, despite the fact that I hardly ever use the damn thing.

A man who knows how to use my drill, and figure out how to secure the molly's, because despite my trying, I can't.

A man with who can handle my freak outs when I am sitting on the floor frustrated with tools all around me and a headache from trying to get an understanding of things that I have no idea about.

A man who is not going to remind me how easy these tasks are.

After thinking about how I should find a man who can do this all for me, I remember the sweet broken English of my man Kel, and my own capabilities. Despite the fact that I lost many hours of my life, which I can never get back, I took care of my business, and didn't need a man to do it for me! Besides Kel that is. So at the end of the day, I am working hard to want myself, and all that I know I am capable of! After all, do I really need to know the difference between a modem or a router?

Poppa

My grandfather is 93 years old. Most of the time, he can't hear anything. Our conversations include how's my apartment, how's my job, and the Red Sox or Patriots (depending on the season). However this weekend, while I was home, for the first time in six months, he switched the conversation up, to something I could have never expected.

He started off with the regular discussion, and I scream him my responses, expecting him to hear about half of what I am saying. Switching it up, he asks me if I have made any friends since moving back to New York. I tell him about the great group of friends I have in my life, thankfully. He probes further, "any special friends?"

I blush. Is this conversation really happening? I tell him that I am dating again, but no one special. He says he heard something from my aunt about a doctor. "What has happened with that?" Further embarrassment! Yea, that didn't work out. He continues to share just how happy that I am "getting back out there." Letting me know that he has no doubt I will meet that special someone and soon!

Really interested in continuing the conversation, he asks about the dates. Where they are from? If they are Jewish? What they do for work? He tells me that he would happy with anything and anyone I bring home. So long as I don't bring home a Black man. That, he tells me, he just won't tolerate!

"Could you do that for me Tootsie?"

What do you say to that? The man is 93 years old. Sure, Poppa, I'll try my best...

Compliments

I've never been very good with compliments. I need to learn to be gracious and appreciate these gems, and am beginning to think I have an idea as to why this is so challenging for me.

In my line of work, I meet a motley crew of individuals who have always have a comment or two towards me, most are not very kind, however, every so often, I get blown away - as I did today.

I get a frantic call from an intoxicated patient in crisis. As he is telling me the unfortunate things he plans to do to himself, I keep him on the phone until help arrives. He tells me how smart he is, how powerful he is, and he plans to leave his fiance. He asks if we can go to dinner, if we can be friends? He tells me that I am "very sane and very good looking." As he is being taken away by men in white coats, so to speak, his fiance is cursing at him and he is screaming my name, wistfully asking me to "come visit him."

Is it sad that this is the best compliment I have gotten in a while? And maybe even worse that I was flattered?

What to do when they don't get the hint and you can't stop...

I have a dilemma of sorts. A few weeks ago, a recent ex resurfaced. He calls me after breaking up with me over the holidays, becuase of our different religions. Completely floored, I'm wondering, "What could he possibly want?" After all, it's not like in the past five months I have changed religions. He tells me that he acted prematurely, that he missed me, and realized how great I was, which I translate to there were no other girls as great as me...

We meet up. MISTAKE. Make an even bigger mistake. REGRET. I tell him there is no need for him to be in my life, after all, I didn't really like him all that much during the time we dated. He was comfortable, reliable, dependable, and gives me the attention I crave.

He didn't enjoy this conversation, stating his disagreement with my feelings, but told he me will respect my wishes. That lasted two weeks. I'm still getting calls, texts, and emails. The unfortunate thing is, that I can't seem to shut this guy off. I keep engaging! Why can't he just get the hint, because with the draught I am in, the attention is warmer than the May weather and I'm a sucker for the sunshine...

The importance of details...

My father has always told me that I need to pay better attention to things. It's true, I tend to be impulsive and overlook the details. What can I say...

This point needs to be revisited after I receive an email from my parents, sharing that a friend of their friend's son is recently divorced and new to the city, stating that we should totally meet up. They forward me along the email from their friend, stating how nice this man is, recently divorced after a "short marriage". He is "kind, funny, good looking, and has a good job". Since I like an adventure, I allow my parents to send along my email to this guy. How bad could it be?

As I share my potential bad decision with my sister, reading her the email that was forwarded along to me, I realize, there's more! Seriously, no attention to detail! I read the email that was sent from my parent's friend to this guy, where they tell him the following...

I have a friend who has a daughter who lives in NYC. She broke up with her fiance 3 weeks before the wedding. She moved to NY from Miami but grew up in Rhode Island. She is 30 years old, quite beautiful and 5'10. She is in some sort of social work and is Jewish. Would you be interested in meeting her?

Glad to know that I am quite beautiful, but really, is knowing that my fiance and I broke up three weeks before the wedding really a selling point? Not sure if I have to just pay more attention to details before making decisions or further instruct others to leave the gory details out.

The Gun in the Underwear Drawer

Its something when the date that you are on ends like a Game of Clue...

I met a Federal Agent, and from the get go, I'm thinking hot. My imagination brings me to this guy that, in my head, will be very exciting, totally sexy, and Bond like. Reality of course brings something different and not nearly as exciting. Still the night is interesting, to say the very least. I mean, the five plus drinks help too.

As I stumble back to my apartment, after the federal agent showed me that he was packing heat, I am made aware that he "is going to need to hide his piece." Makes sense after all, we are both intoxicated, and how does he know I'm sane. Really, there is so much smart decision making going on at this point.

As the alcohol gets the best of me, I retire to bed, alone. It is at this time that the Federal Agent reveals the gun has been hidden in my underwear drawer. Obviously!

Birthdays

So there is something about birthdays that lead us to regress back to childish antics. I think we tend to over look that time continues to pass and hope that with a tiara and ridiculous amounts of cupcakes (and by cupcakes I mean alcohol), we can actually reverse the aging process. I do believe it works, that is until the hangover sets in.

As I celebrated a friends birthday this weekend - the scene was set. There was 80s music, a comedy club, an overly confident birthday girl, fights, pissed neighbors, and ultimately, for the birthday girl, vomit in her sink. Ick!

As I paraded through the streets of the Upper East Side, with three boys in tow, I actually believed I was back in college, seeing myself strolling through the streets of DC, heading towards the dorm. As I pound on my friend's apartment door to return her brother and a random Swedish man, I feel empowered and totally in control, like only a confident college girl can. What I am overlooking is the fact that my shirt is drenched in beer, I am being followed by a man whose shirt could fit my 6 year old niece. And its 5:00am.

Waking up after only two hours of sleep, with make-up smeared on face and a foggy recollection of the night's events, I realize that it was a mere illusion, fueled by a mix of vodka and Bud Light. I am in fact thirty, and can't hang like I used to. It was fun while it lasted and that's got to count for something! In reality,however, I am still drunk and popping Advil and Pepcid.

The Roommate, the Box, and the Virgin Mary

It's one thing to have a roommate. I mean, I get it. It's New York City, rent is high, but it does cause some challenges when with a guy. I went to hang out with this guy at his apartment. We were watching the college games and in walks in his roommate. After two hours of awkward conversation, just the three of us, the roommate finally leaves. Feeling like I'm sneaking around and excited as if my parents have just left the room, we start kissing.

The apartment is a one bedroom with a built wall, another fabulous component of the shared apartment in New York. The problem with this room (if you want to call it that) is that it's a box. I mean, it's small, but there are no lights, no windows, and no heat/air. Literally, a box. Freaked out and amazed that a grown man lives here, I try and focus on other things...

And there she is, staring at me, a portrait of the Virgin Mary! Shielding my eyes and worried that I will be burned by her glare, I look away. What do I find, a large cross! Now I believe I am damned to hell and this box will carry me to my grave!

I attempt to escape this environment, which is reminding far too much of my college past, running for the door, hoping I don't run into the roommate on my way out...

Don't I Deserve More?

It's a sad day when you realize the guy that you have started dating, and believe that there is something that could materialize, lets you down. After 8 dates, consistent communication, commonality, and a gut feeling, the new man disappoints.

On a date riddled with underhanded digs and far too much immaturity, the discussion of compliments comes up. He tells me that I have never said anything nice about him, which isn't true. There have been numerous comments made about his incredible smile, great sense of humor, and gorgeous eyes. Feeling guilty and starting to internalize what I bad person I must be, I start thinking... he's never said anything nice about me, not even a simple compliment?!?

So I say, "you know, while we are on the topic and you are making me feel pretty guilty, I don't think you have ever complimented me?"

"You are right, I haven't, but at least I haven't said anything mean either."

For real? That is the stupidest rationalization I have ever heard! And I have heard a lot of crap. I am starting to recognize that this guy isn't all I thought he was cracked up to be, knowing I deserve someone who can at least muster up a compliment, if for nothing more than knowing how to be polite. Recognizing once again, that it's hard to find a good one out there...

The Run In

Despite the million plus people on the island of Manhattan, it seems to be getting smaller and smaller in my opinion. Evidence of such comes from the unsuspecting run in. It starts easy enough, for me, running into an old bunk mate from summer camp that I haven't seen in over 15 years. However it can get more fun than that, more complicated than that, and even far more humiliating.

My high school crush

Random run in that worked out quite well. After moving back into the city, I headed to brunch with a friend from college. As we are waiting for the table, I run into three boys from high school, including a crush of mine, that never really seemed all that interested while in school. His interests had changed, the run in proved that, well into the next day. A positive and fun run in to say the very least. I had a black and blue hand print on my ass and red wine all over my cream couch proving that this run in had its benefits.

My ex-fiance's best friend

Random run in while out celebrating a major feat at the time. With my girlfriends after far too many margaritas and sangria, we headed for dinner. I was intoxicated and contemplating my need to go home, I head to the ladies room. What a place for a run in. My ex-fiance's best friend's wife. Great! Too small of a bathroom to avoid the awkward run in, so I say hello and head over to their table. After small talk, I head back to my friends in tears. Definitely not the run in I was hoping for on a night made for celebrations.

Ex-Boyfriend while with new boyfriend while heading to the subway for work at 7am

This was particularly uncomfortable. Over the summer, while dating Corky, we headed out of my apartment and towards the subway to go to work. En route, we run into Bad Date Bobby walking out of his apartment. For the longest three blocks, I have Corky smiling and holding my hand while Bad Date Bobby tells some story of a bar fight he had gotten himself into. A run in I could have done without for sure.

The Bad Internet Date that just won't go Away

I work around the corner from this guy, and he is a major tool. However too much tequila and poor decision making gave this guy the luck to see me beyond the first date (lucky him, big moment of shame on my end). I managed to phase him out, which was not as easy as I had hoped. I went out to lunch one afternoon and as I am heading down the block, he is heading towards me. We see each other but he looks away, while strangely still looking at me. It was quite possibly the most awkward sight, really quite something to be seen. I stop and say hello, feeling that there is no way to avoid, and he shares his hope that the tacos he picked up for lunch won't get the best of him. On that note, I kept walking.

Roommate of an Ex

As the weather is getting warmer here in NYC, the outdoor bars are back in business. After work this past Friday, my girls and I head for a beer. As we are heading out to leave the bar, I run into the most recent ex's roommate, whose name escaped me. Pleasantries are exchanged, and then the introduction. "So this is Molly, my roommate's friend." I choked/laughed. "Well, they actually dated for a while, so I guess..." OK, on that note, super great to see you, send the roommie my best.


So the run in can go from great to terrifying, and as the weather gets warmer and people come out of hibernation, I better get used to it. I'd like to think that when these run in's occur, I am witty, charming, and of course look fabulous. However reality is a bitch, and usually I look a mess or I'm drunk or both. Ah well! Better stories to tell...

Like a Moth to the Flame...

Like a moth to a flame, it seems as though Bad Date Bobby just can't get enough! After finally perfecting the booty call, albeit a year after the fact, it seems as though he just can't get enough. However, I am not sure he recognizes my lack of interest in anything more than our present arrangement. The evidence is as follows...

Upon celebrating my entrance into a new decade of fun, we returned to the scene of the crime. There was cheap beer and beer pong, simply put, poor decision making was afoot. As I am getting up in the morning, running late due to some, ummm, distractions, I gently let him know that I have to go, and he should too. I head out to my birthday brunch and have far too many Bloody Mary's (what else is new). Upon my stumble home, at 5pm, and drunkenly text him to thank him for hanging out on my birthday. This is what I get in return.

U should come here

I have food

I have Crumbs (cupcakes)

Anything? Response?

Are you asleep?

What are you up to? I may have to come up.

Molly?

Birthday girl?

I'll have you know that you have me feeling bad. Wasn't trying to be rude...just a pain. Hope I didn't upset you today.

I had passed out cold, for a good two hours, only to awake to all these text messages. Confused and disoriented I call him, making clear our situation and alerting him to my drunken state. He takes this further to assume that I am inviting him over with his cupcakes. When I politely decline his invitation, he lets me know that he'll set the Oreo cupcake aside, and make sure his roommate doesn't eat it.

Why, because you really think I am coming over before that cupcake goes bad? I'm wondering which has a longer shelf life, the Oreo cupcake or this little moth...

The Dangers of Providing Too Much Information

As previously mentioned, I have recently started dating this guy. I get a little scared when starting what could be a new relationship. Let's just consider this the fear of history repeating itself. A challenge comes in with my parents. They are so interested in my love life, and part of me lets them, it helps them feel better about all that has happened. Unfortunately, it has now gone a little too far.

I was telling my parents about the bowling date, and how I have uncovered the last name of this new guy. My father asks what the last name is. I hesitate initially, worried about where this may lead. I even ask... "what are you going to do, google him?" My parents laugh, say no, and ask how to spell the last name.

Then I find out why I must stop indulging the parents. My parents googled my potential boyfriend!!!! I know I am the one at fault, but seriously?!?!

Last Name

It's a strange thing when you are dating. There is a chance that you may not know a person's last name right away. I have done many a thing to find out the last name of these men. Checked the credit card when they are paying the bill. Look at the mail on the table in their apartment. But to be honest, it's all a little scary, slightly humiliating even, to have to be investigating these men, when all you are really looking for is a last name.

So I have been dating this guy, a great guy really. He makes me smile and laugh and it feels as though we've known each other for far longer than we have. Either way, it took a few dates before I knew his last name. I kept trying to find this information, but without great success. On our 4th date, we went bowling ( a whole other issue altogether...) When it was time to put in the names, he adds mine and then puts in some random name for himself. I ask, Who's that? He replies, point blank, "oh, that's my last name, that is what everybody calls me."

Ahh! Last name, good to know! Mystery solved!

A good night or did you just have one too many drinks?

Sometimes it can get kind of confusing. Did I have a really good night out, was it so much fun? Or did I just have one too many drinks... Indications that lean towards the latter...

you wake up with a fat lip, and can't really figure out why.

you find that you have washed off your make-up and hung up your dress, but have no recollection of actually getting back to the apartment.

you couldn't actually leave the bar without help, the push door was a little too much to handle.

you wake up and there is a charbroiled piece of pizza in your oven (that is still on!)

you've "snogged" some Brit (whose name escapes you) outside the McDonald's where you stopped to get fries before karaoke in Korea-town

A Hickey... Gasp! Its been a while, thank god, but not as long ago as it should have been.

Did he really just ask me that?

So I have been out on a few dates with this one guy, and feel things are going really well, until last night, where I had to ask myself, did he really just ask me that?

I enjoy red wine to white, and would love a beer over anything fruity.

I am an adventurous eater, choosing red meat over anything vegetarian. I'll eat oysters and octopus am not freaked out if its raw. I would rarely order chicken in a restaurant, especially if there are more exciting options.

I'm not about stilettos, enjoying my flats more. I'd wear a hoodie all the time if I could, feeling comfortable enough in myself not to have to dress it up. I'm casual and natural and am really proud to be.

I take the bus. I'll walk or take a subway over a cab, I mean why not? I'm in this great city with incredible public transportation, why waste my money on a crazy cab if I don't have to.

I don't like puppies or cuddly animals (unless its my teddy bear), preferring fish or turtles if there was an option for a pet in my life.

I'm not at the point of talking/thinking about my 2.8 children. I don't have names picked out and don't day dream about how fun it will be to be a mommy.

I don't fantasize about my dream wedding (been there, done that). I would love nothing more, if I ever get to that point again, to escape to a remote, exotic, and crazy sexy location, and come back with a new ring.

With all of this discussed or assumed by my date over the past few encounters, I get the following query... "Do you have a vagina?"

FYI... I am not a jappy Long Island girl and feel that. To quote my date, "Your are like a chill guy." Shouldn't this be a selling point? For real - did he really just ask me that?

The Stutterer

The more dates I go on, the more interesting it gets. I started emailing with this one guy, seemed nice, just moved to the city after getting his MBA. We had a lot in common and demonstrated quite the interest in me, asking me for drinks right off the bat, which is unusual as previously discussed. We set a date and he picks a cute little Italian restaurant by my apartment. As I walk in, I am looking forward to what could be a nice date.

And there is starts... I hate to be mean about this, but it was so completely distracting! At first I thought maybe he's just nervous, but as time passes, I realize that this is a legitimate stutter.

Needless to say there was not enough wine in the place to make this comfortable and the night just drags. At least that was my opinion. Apparently, the stutterer just did not want things to end, even asking if, as the bottle ran dry and the food was taken off the table, we can keep talking, as he is just enjoying my company so much! I indulge him a little further until I can't take it any more. I look at the time, and politely excuse myself for the "early meeting" I have set for the next day.

We walk out of the restaurant and the stutterer tries to verbalize how much fun he had and we have to do this again soon. Absolutely! I say, let's do that...

Needless to say there will be no date two. In the words of my favorite childhood cartoon - "Th-th-th-that's all folks!"

The Valentine's Day Freak Out!

No, its not my freak out, Valentine's Day doesn't really bother me, its the freak out that is witnessed amongst single men in New York City. It's actually really interesting to see these single guys sweat. God forbid a single guy initiate any conversation or contact on around Valentine's Day, its like the potential dating world goes dark for a few days, or adds all types of caveats, alerting the single girl that "this has nothing to do with Valentine's Day."

For example, as I am leaving the gym on Sunday morning, also known as Valentine's Day, I get a message from this guy I have been out with a few times. I haven't heard from him in a while, but he surfaces to ask me to lunch, stating he is in the neighborhood, but this has NOTHING to do with Valentine's Day.

Seriously dude! One, I don't care. Two, I haven't heard from you beyond emails in over a month. And three, you could show up at my door with a dozen roses, and Valentine's Day or not, it still wouldn't make a difference, but thanks for the clarification.

That was fun! And the end of another hopeless single man in New York...

The Evolution of Asking Someone Out...

Remember when things were a little more simple? As kids, if a boy liked you, he'd ask you to play, or share his pudding pack with you. It was simple, but you knew. Then, when you got to the teenage years, it was all about asking you to dance at the school dance. That was serious stuff. Then there was, "Hey, you want to go to the movies? My Mom will drive." For me, college was not about formalized dating, which brings us to present day... As an adult, heading towards thirty, I have these beliefs of how someone should ask you out. For example, "Hey, let's set something up for later this week" or "we should meet for a drink sometime". They can even go so far as "I would love to take you to dinner."

When talking with this one guy, trying to find a time to meet up, I suggest later this week and get the following in response...

"That works, or you can come by and watch me lift weights and cook stir fry ;)"

Was he asking me out there? Seriously? I would take the shared pudding pack over that offer. What makes this simple question so challenging for some?

A String of First Dates and One Night Stands

The glamorous life of a single girl in New York City. Its fun! Going on dates, having drinks, and cute boys? I mean, really, there isn't too much to complain about... Nevertheless, I'm starting to believe that this isn't going to be all that entertaining for much longer.

The first date. It's an exciting thing! You meet someone, have witty banter, exchange information, and a date is set. You go out (hopefully someplace fun), have drinks (a lot if the date is bad), and wonder what happens next. Not sure if there should be a second date but feeling as though you should give it a try...but the call doesn't come. Ah well, time to start all over again. After a bit, it loses its luster and gets harder to keep from feeling rejected. This is a big city after all, there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Blah, blah, blah... Is it just me or does the sea seem to be getting smaller and smaller.

The one night stand. Usually fueled by one too many glasses of wine, margaritas, or even more destructive - shots! Similar to the first date - without the actual date. You meet someone and have witty banter. There is no exchange of information prior, far too many drinks, whispers from your friends and you leave the bar. This is my favorite, like a movie or something, kissing on the streets filled with presumed passion and the thought (or at least my thought), "wow, this is so great, I bet this will totally work out." I know, I'm a hopeless romantic (who really needs to cut back on the cheesy movies). As the morning sun gleams in, with a dry mouth and smudged make-up, its back to reality, coupled with a wicked hang over. Numbers may be exchanged, pleasantries - "this was a lot of fun, I'll call you." Uh huh...yea.

Glamorous. Really. Don't get me wrong, I'm having fun and have no regrets. I'm not on the market for that next husband, but would love to string something better together.

Wisdom From a 6 Year Old

So my 6 year old niece is beyond profound, providing me with some of the most succinct love advice with a healthy dash of sarcasm. Its a little ridiculous, but I'd like to believe that her insight is just pure enough to be helpful in leading me to something more.

Upon my last break-up, my older sister was doing what she does best, telling me how everything will be okay, "there are a million of guys in New York City...". In the background, my niece is giving her input, letting my sister and I both know that "there are only 78 boys there for Auntie Molly." Wow, only 78? That's not a very big swimming pool! I ask her to engage in her soothsayer abilities and give me more insight. She informs me that the boy that is right for me will be named Jacob. Interesting...

Most recently, my niece is telling me of her upcoming Father-Daughter dance, I ask her if she will be dancing with any other boys besides her Daddy. In pure 6 year old going on 16 year old fashion, she tells me that she isn't too sure. She goes on to let me know that she has a few boyfriends, and "do you have a boyfriend yet Auntie Molly?"

Nothing like a little humiliation by a 6 year old. I let her know that I do not in fact have a boyfriend, and ask for her advice once again. Seeing as she is the one with all the luck, what are her secrets? She of course, being a little stinker, will not let me in on her secrets. I begin to beg, needing to know the secrets from the playground, maybe there is something I am over looking with my approach? She won't budge! Pulling out all the stops, I ask her how she expects to be a flower girl ever again if she can't help me find a man? Her response...

"That's just life!"

A Healthy Balance

Is it too much for a girl to ask for a healthy balance in an man? What I am finding is that some men in NYC seem to feel the need to overcompensate. And to be honest, its disheartening, a little nauseating, and in most cases, totally unnecessary!

The case of Big Kev...

My friend and I were watching the Jets demise for the season, sitting at the bar next to these nice guys, having fun at other people's expense and making sure there were never empty drinks. As the game ended, with Jets fans in tears, Big Kev put his business card on the table, sharing his hopes that we could all hang out again. Letting my friend run point, she emailed him, setting up a hang out for the following weekend, where he shared that he would be bringing friends and it would be a good time. This was perfect as neither of us found Big Kev all that enticing in the date department, but had some fun and found him entertaining; we could all be friends!?!

Well this has now been shot to shit...

Text messages were passed on the night we were to meet up. My friend and I were bailing, letting the cold weather and hang overs from the night before get the best of us. Big Kev texts my friend, who at this point just gives him my number, because he seems to be overly concerned about what my plans are. Looking for my own entertainment, I screw with him a little bit, not letting him in on the fact that I know its him texting. This is what I get...

Ur hot and I want to see you ;)

Molly, U wear those hot uggs and love to drink bloodys and u love life??? Take a guess

Molly u are the sexiest women I have ever seen and u have a smile that melts ice cream and me ;) U love bloody marys and enjoy talking with me ;)

My response: Gee Big Kev, didn't think u were that dramatic and cheesy! That stuff doesn't usually work on me.

I never heard back from him, hoping for his sake that there was a lot of alcohol involved in his entire texting episode. The point is, there is a lack of balance out there. Either the guy doesn't get in touch with you at all or goes in for the over kill. Do I have to keep dealing with these extremes? There has to be a better way...

Is it possible to get beyond the Internet when Internet Dating?

What I don't understand is how you can meet a guy through Internet dating, but have difficulty getting them off the computer and into real life. You have witty banter, make jokes, flirt, wink, whatever! The message ends, emails are exchanged, for what, more emails? What is so wrong with meeting face to face? I just don't understand!?!

There is the one guy I have been chatting with, cute, smart, claims he's 6'4 (so even if he is lying, he'll still be taller than most). He asks for my email and we've been chatting at work for the past few days. How are you? How's your day? Did you have a good weekend? I haven't even met this guy yet, but we chat everyday. Today he asks for more pictures of me. I try and avoid the creepy undertones of this request and let him know that we could always meet in person, no pictures needed, because we'd be seeing each other, in person, with drinks! No response, no acknowledgement whatsoever....

Another guy... we chatted, actually made it out for two dates, and now, nothing but emails. Every day I get numerous emails. One or two sentence emails. substituting for conversations and the all so important face time. It's been weeks of emails, with no discussion of meeting again, just more and more mindless emails.

Hey whats up and how are you today? Been a busy week so far for me

Hey there and how was the remainder of your weekend?

Went out for a bit to this place on Bleeker, was my friends bday so met up for a drink...

Where did u watch the games?

Yes, sleep is something I need right now

I am a girl who wants to move beyond the blueish light of the computer and into the bright lights of the city, with a man who isn't afraid to step away from the screen!

You Know You Can Do Better When...

There is alot a single girl has to through as she embarks on the adventures of dating. I am here to remind others, as well as myself, that we can do better. These scenarios are all real not imagined (unfortunately)

You know you can do better (or deserve better) when...

The guy you are dating steals condoms from you to bring back to his place because he is too cheap to buy his own.

You sit down to dinner and look at the wine list, your date, who just met you says, "umm, that's the wine menu" uh, yea, I know... "we'll get you into an AA meeting later I guess"

The guy you have been on two dates with is telling you via email that his Chipotle is disagreeing with his stomach.

He's insulting you to your face and thinks it demonstrates that he is being witty and charming.

He compares you to his mother and continue to share "just how much you and mom have in common."

He puts his Blackberry on the table and tells you just how important he is and how he needs to stay connected. "You don't mind, do you?"

The guy you are hooking up with steals your wallet (true story, happened to my friend!)

He always chooses his family over you.

As you hoist up to his bunk bed in Brooklyn (gasp!) you recognize that he has a solo cup filled with condoms waiting for you on the ladder. (My friend has good stories)

Before you sit down for dinner you are contemplating how many drinks its going to take to get through this.

You meet him for a first date and he has chosen a bottle of the finest white Zinfandel (Beringer's best) for the two of you to enjoy.

He tells you he can't meet up because he has an MRI at 9pm at night and then tells you he's out of town instead, despite the fact that you see him running the next morning in Central Park.

He wears pleated pants, gold toe socks, and tighty whities!

The State of Dating in the City...

Internet dating... a vapid wasteland of shit to put it quite bluntly. However, when it comes to New York City, the days are long and there isn't always time to wait for your knight in shining armor to come to you, so internet dating it is!

An excerpt into my two dates this week - Jewish Lawyer Number One and Jewish Lawyer Number Two...

Jewish Lawyer Number One... good breeding, good education, good pictures posted on his online dating profile. How could I have been duped so easily?!?! Reality check. 20 pounds heavier than his pictures and at least two inches shorter than he admitted (which isn't good for a girl as tall as me - especially when I am wearing heels!) He was dressed like a substitute teacher and changed the bar we were supposed to meet at because "it was too dark." Although I was somewhat entertained thanks to his story about a blind date with a midget and numerous glasses of wine, the date was less than spectacular. He spent a great amount of time talking of his desire for tattoos and the two motor cycles that he owns. What nice Jewish boy wants tattoos and has motorcycles? The other problem was I was starving! A granola bar is not a proper dinner! And to make matters worse, there was the most gorgeous leg of prosciutto behind his head, which apparently I was fixated on, because many a comment was made as to why I was looking at the pork product instead of him... Oops! Hours pass and the date comes to an end. We are down in So Ho, and I live all the way uptown. The lawyer however is from Jersey (gasp!!) and had driven to our date. As he asks how I am getting home, I contemplate between a cab and the subway. He generously offers to drive me home. I think about the polite response, knowing it is clearly out of his way but recognize that there is no way I should turn down a ride back to my apartment in the cold winter weather. He replies, "Really?" to which I respond, don't offer if you aren't willing to follow through. I leave the car knowing that the door is closed on lawyer number one, and preparation for lawyer number two begins...

Lawyer Number Two was a date that should have never happened. I wasn't all that jazzed by his profile, but figured, how bad could it be? Once again, how could I have been so stupid? His email to me was a novel, sharing the following...

"It sounds like we have a lot in common. Grew up on an island: check. Work with people who need to see a therapist: check. Sarcastic, smart, interesting, pretty funny and an aficionado of all things "good"? Check and check! :) Actually, I get the feeling that the potential is there for us to get along famously (check marks will be flying!)."

I should have known better, but am, if nothing else, a glutton for punishment. As I am waiting at the restaurant for the lawyer to arrive, I see a balding man (who is trying to pretend that it does not exist - so sad!) walking in... yes, this is my date. I contemplate an escape route and see that this would be impossible! I'm locked in. He chooses Japanese BBQ which was a positive choice - cooking the food at the table kept me more entertained than he could. He shared about his boring job in corporate finance and about his life on Long Island. He talked endlessly of his parents, who he hangs out with every weekend, likening their relationship to the Three Musketeers. Good times, really, total selling point! As the discussion starts to dwindle and there isn't enough wine in the world to make things better, I ask about his hobbies. Yes, I said the word hobbies. He talks about golf, and how much he enjoys it, following up with "don't worry, I'll teach you." Oh you will, huh...I don't think so. I couldn't run from the restaurant fast enough. Although he had high hopes to continue the evening with a walk to the subway, I ran to closest bus and bid him adieu, ending the string of bad lawyer dates for the week, thankfully!

As far as the state of dating goes, this week was not the best. After some careful thought, a little self pity (seriously? this is what my life has become?), many drinks, one chick flick, and a great night out, I'm ready for more. Two bad Jewish lawyers will not get me down. I've been through worse and can always do better!