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...