Airplane Romance

I’m sitting in the airport because my flight to Atlanta has been delayed about four times due to inclement weather, and the scheduled departure is now about half an hour after my original arrival time, which is pretty exciting.

After figuring out that I was going to be stuck here for a while, and I had already bored of reading and listening to music, I thought the most entertaining way to pass the time would be to find some cute boys to flirt with in the waiting area.

Shockingly, there seemed to be a shortage of anyone that I would even consider conversing with, not to mention actual flirting.

Plus, this reminded me of the one time in my life that I have managed to meet someone on a plane, and boy, was that bad.

Years ago, I was on my way back from a trip to Florida with my family when this really, really gorgeous guy walked onto the plane. Right away I began praying to the Airplane Seating Gods that he was somehow seated next to me. And for the only time ever in my life, they answered my prayer and he plopped right down next to me.

It wasn’t long before we started talking. He worked relatively close to me, was a few years older, and had worked as a Ford model to pay his way through college. (Yes folks, that’s how gorgeous he was. This is what we call a SCORE!)

We talked all through the flight, and he walked with me to baggage claim, which is when he asked for my phone number. I got into a cab completely giddy over my luck.

We went out on our first date a week later, and started talking on a regular basis.

One Sunday, I was watching Dirty Dancing with my friend J when Plane Guy called. I told him what I was doing and he responded promptly with, “That is so dumb. I can’t believe you’re watching that movie. It’s just a stupid movie.”

When I told J this, he got very serious and said, “S, get out now! This guy is psycho.”

“Why? Just because he doesn’t like Dirty Dancing? How many totally heterosexual guys, other than you obviously, want to watch Patrick Swayze school Jennifer Grey in the art of the salsa?”

“It’s not about that. When you start dating someone, in the beginning, you don’t just put down anything they like outright like that. If he was normal and he liked you, even if he thought it was a stupid movie, he’d just say, ‘Oh that’s nice.’ The fact that he told you you’re dumb for watching a movie you like so bluntly implies that he is absolutely nuts. Trust me, in time it’ll show.”

I totally disregarded J’s advice, much to my chagrin later.

The following week Plane Guy and I had to plans to go out with a bunch of my friends so he could meet them, and mostly so I could show off my new man to my girls. He was in a mood, so right away the date was off to a rocky start. Throughout dinner, he just complained that I was on my phone constantly because I was texting my friends to confirm our plans for later.

Then when the bill arrived, he literally threw it in my face (yep, THREW it in my face) and said, “Hey there Princess, I paid last time, so why don’t you get the bill this time?”

No one had ever treated me like this before, so I just paid the bill in a daze, wondering what the hell was going on.

Then he said, “Hey I don’t feel like going out tonight, so why don’t we just stay in?”

I was flabbergasted and explained to him that I had been rallying my friends to go out and meet him, so I couldn’t just bail on them now.

“So you’d rather go hang out with your friends that you see all the time, then spend time with me?” he challenged me.

At this point, I was fed up, so I just said yes, and left him at the table to go meet my friends at a bar.

I stopped picking up his calls at this point.

About a week later, I started to get calls from a number I didn’t recognize. I didn’t pick them up but one day I got a voice mail and it was a laughing male voice saying, “Hey there S I met you the other day and I just wanted to let you know that you are a BITCH!” Multiple boys laughing in the background. “That’s right, you are a BITCH!” More male laughter.

It didn’t take long to put the pieces together. Plane Boy had gotten his friends to prank call me and they were all having one big laugh over it together. And this guy was almost thirty.

I saved the voice mail for as long as my cell phone provider would let me to remind me that J had been right. It had just started with making fun of a movie that I liked and blown into totally psychotic, immature behavior.

So now when a hot guy walks past me on the plane, I send out vibes to the Airplane Seating Gods to just let him keep walking. That’s right Buddy, keep going.

Low Expectations

Today I was talking to R about boys and we both expressed our dismay at the lack of even mildly appealing men in the city.

When I was younger, naive, romantic, idealistic, and whatnot, I was really picky about guys, and wouldn't even go out on a date with a guy that I deemed less than suitable. And the second that I found even a little something I didn't like, he was outta there.

Then, for a long period of time, I would talk to and hand out my phone number to anyone with a pulse. Really. In a totally non-desperate way, of course. I was just playing the odds and figured the more people I actually gave my number to, the higher the odds were that one of them would actually call.

Now, I've settled into a middle ground where I'll usually go out on at least one date with a guy, but once he starts to show any signs of psychotic behavior, I cut him out of life.

But, what is totally bizarre, is I've found that my actual requirements for a guy have dramatically tanked.

Whereas I used to have a list that would rival eHarmony's of the qualities that a person would need to possess to be worthy of my affections, I have now settled on four main questions.

1) Are you single, as in not seeing or dating or married to someone?

Yes? Check!

2) Are you gainfully employed?

(Hey in this economic environment, that's a very fair question, and a guy with a good job is more than a catch.)

Yes? Check!

3) Do you live with your parents?

(You would think that this wouldn't be so much of a problem at my age, but shockingly, it is. For some strange reason, every other guy that my friends and I come across seems to live with his parents.)

No? Check!

4) Do you have any strange fetishes or problems operating your machinery, if you get my drift?

No? DING DING DING!!!

And we have a winner!

But honestly, you'd be surprised how few guys actually satisfy all of these conditions. There was a time when I cared about things like sense of humor and education and age...but those days are long gone. After all, desperate times call for desperately decreasing standards.

So from now on, R and I are going to do what we call "border control" for one another, and make sure all potential male applicants can meet the above criteria before any actual time or conversation is invested in them.

And, we are done giving out our phone numbers to guys. At all. If some guy bizarrely comes along who can pass border control and I want to see him again, I'll take his number and call him when I damn well feel like it.

I can't lie, though. There is a part of me that wonders when I became so willing to settle for so little. At the very least, I should request that someone be equal to me; therefore the employment and apartment part should just be a given.

We'll see how this new plan plays out this weekend. At the very least, amusement is sure to follow. Keep your eyes peeled for S & R Border Control coming soon to a dive bar near you!

The Soulmate Question

I've always found the idea of a "soulmate" to be problematic. Mathematically and rationally, it makes little sense that there is only one person out there who is perfectly suited to you, and the one that you're meant to be with. And that despite the fact that this is a very large, populated world, you'll manage to find that one person who completes you, is the yin to your yang.

Because of this, I get a little squeamish when I hear people talk about how so-and-so is their soulmate, and how important it is to find your soulmate. Mostly I roll my eyes and contemplate how I can make out with the next cute waiter that walks by. Take that, universe!

Then I read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. This book inspired me to travel and to write, and it opened my mind to many things I hadn't thought about before, including seeing soulmates in a whole new light.

In one of my favorite passages of the book, Richard from Texas explains what a soulmate is to Liz:

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.

Now that was an idea of soulmates that I could actually get behind. I have had relationships in my life that have challenged me so deeply that I am sure they affected the choices I made and the person I became. They all, inevitably, ended up in breakups and I know now that if I had actually stayed with any of these guys, we would have been miserable and ended up trying to destroy each other.

This is on my mind right now because the other day a reputable source told me that my ex-boyfriend, Goldsomething, is my "soulmate." And that even though it didn't work out last time around, someday in the future we will get our shit together and make it happen.

Now I haven't been this skeptical about something since the people on Lost started time traveling all over the island. Both circumstances seem equally plausible to me right now. Time travel or soulmate. Time travel or soulmate. I'll take Time Travel for 800 please Alex.

Try as hard as I can to laugh it off and forget about it, I can't seem to let it go. It's like that nagging itch in the back of my throat that I forget about for a moment before it hits me again and drives me insane.

Goldsomething and I broke up months ago when he moved away and we decided a long distance relationship just wasn't going to work. And although we remain friends and still care about each other, we've both moved on and are seeing other people. (Or in my case, seeing a very many other people in a not very serious capacity.)

So I guess the reason that this whole "soulmate" thing is bothering me so much is a while ago, for my own peace of mind and sanity, I had given up on the idea of Goldsomething and I ever getting back together. I told myself logically (as much as one can logically decide matters of the heart) that it just wasn't meant to be, and I had to let it go once and for all.

And then bam! With one little word, all these questions are back on the table and weighing on my mind.

Only time will tell if Goldsomething and I do ever get back together, but right now the forecast is looking very bleak. But even if we do, I still can't abide by calling him my soulmate.

I prefer to think of soulmates in the Richard from Texas way, that they come into our lives to force us to make a change, but then their work is done and you gotta let them go and cross your fingers for the best.

eHarmony

Every once in a while, you see an awesomely appropriate someecard that jogs your memory about something you'd been trying to forget.

In this case, it was my very brief eHarmony experiment.

After hearing one too many of my friends preach about online dating and how successful they had been in finding relationships through eHarmony and how so and so knows someone who got married to someone they met through the internet, I was close to giving in and just trying it, if only for amusement's sake.

What finally tipped me over the edge was I saw one of the eHarmony commercials that is supposedly about a real couple that met through eHarmony, and the guy in the commercial, "Joshua," was totally hot. And not only was he a beautiful specimen of a man, but some sort of scientist (nerd score!) AND an artist on the side. Done and done.

I mean, other than the fact that he was matched up with some woman "soulmate" on eHarmony and was happily married.

And, as my friend C pointed out to me later, "S, he's an ACTOR. He's supposed to be yummy and make you want to join. He's not actually on eHarmony."

I just ignored her (advertising never lies) and signed on to eHarmony to get started on finding my "Joshua."

And then came the questionnaire....

This thing is the most detailed, repetitive, annoying list of questions I have ever witnessed in my life. Seriously. I'd rather take the SATs again than the eHarmony questionnaire.

It was literally ten pages of 100 questions each that consisted of, "On a scale of 1 to 10, how funny are you? Smart? Sensitive? Punctual?" and so on and so on.

Directly followed by a page filled with identical traits, but this time asking you how important on a scale of 1 to 10 it is that your partner possesses these qualities.

I sat there for ten minutes wondering if it's a seven important or an eight important that my partner be punctual. And then I realized this was the most absolutely ridiculous thing I've ever done.

Look, I am not frowning down on people who use any sort of online dating site. In theory, I think it actually makes a tremendous amount of sense. This way you filter out people that are automatically incompatible with you, and are left with a series of choices who share similar priorities, and are hypothetically single and actively looking for a relationship, which hey, is half the battle.

However, I'm an old fashioned girl who believes in meeting a guy and feeling a spark before I agree to going out to dinner with him and sharing my ideas on religion and cleanliness. Isn't that part of the fun of dating anyway?

In the end, I gave up on the stupid eHarmony questionnaire around page seven. But I am still open to the idea of dating "Joshua" if him and that soulmate ever break up.

Better Late Than Never

I'm a little fuzzy on exact dates, but about a year ago I was in my dry cleaner's with L because he was getting some new jeans hemmed. I was waiting for him outside the dressing room when an insanely gorgeous guy walked in.

At this moment, I of course started sending out mental messages to L to stay put in the room unless he wanted me to hurt him.

I loitered closely by, in a totally not weird way obviously, while the hot guy gave the dry cleaner his full name and address (score and score). Of course, I began reciting this information back to myself. This wasn't that hard considering the address was the apartment building next to mine.

I managed to weasel my way into the conversation and exchange a few pleasantries with him before he left, disappointingly without my phone number.

L came out of the dressing room and said immediately, "I heard you giggling and flirting, so I thought it would be best to stay in there until you were done."

Just the idea of L sitting down in a tiny dressing room in his too-long jeans, waiting for me to be done hitting on a guy, still cracks me up to this day.

"He didn't ask for my phone number," I pouted.

"Well you can always stalk him," L pointed out.

Of course, this got my brain working. After all, I did know where he lived....

"Ok, this is the plan," I said, "I know which apartment building he lives in, so I'll just sit outside until he walks in or out and then pretend I accidentally ran into him."

"It's not like you have anything better to do," L helpfully contributed.

I was actually contemplating this plan, better known as stalking, when it hit me a few hours later what was an even better idea.

I got out a notepad and wrote him a note that said:

"Dear Guy, I am the adorably charming girl you met in the dry cleaner yesterday and I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink next week. Call me."

I added my name and phone number, put it in an envelope with his full name on the front, and the following day I walked over to his apartment building and left the note with his doorman.

Two days later, I got a voicemail from him:

"Errr S, I got your note and I wanted to give you a call. It was one of the ballsier things I've ever seen a girl do, so I wanted to give you props. The thing is I actually live in California and was just visiting my parents for the weekend. My mom got your note and read it to me over the phone..."

That's right. As if the entire stalking thing wasn't embarrassing enough to begin with, his MOTHER read him my note. Just picture it: his mother on the phone with him reading my remark about being "adorably charming" and then saying to him, "So Son, do you often meet girls at the dry cleaner's?"

I called him back to laugh about the whole situation and apologize, but then promptly deleted his number and never expected to hear from him again.

That is, until tonight. I got a call from a number I didn't know and when I picked it up, he said, "Do you remember me? I met you at the dry cleaner and then you left a note..."

And as the memories flooded back, he asked me if I'd like to go get dinner.

"Wait, don't you live in California?" I asked.

"No, actually, I moved to New York about six months," he told me.

"Then why didn't you call me six months ago?" Ok, yes it was blunt, but I think it was an entirely reasonable question.

He laughed and then said, "It's better late than never, right?"

This has to be some kind of record, having a guy call for a date a YEAR after I gave him my phone number, in one of the most bizarre ways I've ever given a guy my phone number.

My working theory is that he moved to NY for a girl, but they recently broke up, thus the phone call.

My only question is how the hell did he remember me after all this time? I had pretty much erased him from my memory banks and probably wouldn't even recognize him if I passed him on the street.

So there you go, never give up on someone calling because sometimes it takes a guy a year to get around to calling and asking you out.

Sick...Again....

So I know about a month ago around Valentine's Day, I seemed to have figured out that it's possible that going out and drinking all the time, staying out late, and making out with boys can lead to catching viruses and getting a girl sick.

But apparently I did not get the message, because this past month, I drank A LOT, stayed out late many times, and yes, I even made out with a few boys. So I suppose it was inevitable that I would wind up bedbound again with some icky virus and a fever of 102.6 with no one to blame but myself.

I'm starting to think that maybe I have a holiday curse this year. I was deathly ill on Valentine's Day, I was sick on St. Patty's Day, what's next? I'll get mono on the Fourth of July?

The good news is I've now gotten this being sick thing down to an art. I have everything a sick person needs within easy access: Emergen-C, TheraFlu, cough syrup, pain killers/fever relievers, the special tissues with aloe lotion and Vicks, etc, etc.

Plus I've been able to catch up on a lot of television. Seriously, what did sick people do before DVR and internet streaming was invented? I suppose those were the days when you HAD to watch the daytime soaps because they were all that were on at the time. But now, I can watch entire seasons of Gilmore Girls and the West Wing at the press of a button. Amazing.

I guess the only good thing that has come out of the constant sickness this year is that I've learned to cope with being sick all by myself so many times now that it's become easy. The first couple times I got sick without a boyfriend by my side, I felt so sad and hopeless that I didn't have someone to take care of me, someone to make sure I didn't die.

But now, I'm the one who runs out to Duane Reade to get the meds I need and to the grocery store to buy Gatorade and soup, and I'm completely capable. Plus it's nice being able to sleep whenever I feel like it, and not worry about waking someone up when I need to take some cough syrup at 4AM. Or worry about how unattractive I am when I'm in bed unshowered and surrounded by tissues.

Not that I'm saying being sick is fun in the slightest, because I hate it, and I am looking forward to the day that I can breathe out of both nostrils at the same time and finish a full sentence without coughing.

It can't be soon enough that I can resume my normal schedule of drinking, staying out all night, and making out with boys.

Just kidding. I obviously know better than that.

Right?

Places To Meet Boys

I am going to start a running list of places that I meet boys! I have a feeling "bar" is going to be on the list multiple times.

1) Bar (Sneaker Boy)

2) Restaurant (Army Boy)

3) Work (Coworker Boy)

4) High School (HS Boy)

5) Bar (Legal Boy)

6) Train Platform (Dirty Boy)

7) Work - Vendor of the Company (PBD)

8) Bar (J-Boy)

9) Bar (Finance Boy)

10) College Party at Bar - friend of college friends (Ph.D. Boy)

11) Bar - friend of high school friend (Logan Boy)

12) Hotel Bar (Cowboy)

13) Bar - friend of coworker (UES Boy)

14) Birthday Party (NJ Boy)

15) Bar - friend of friends (Slingarm)

16) Birthday Party at Bar - friend of friends (TV Boy)

17) Apartment - roommate of NJ Boy (Roommate Boy)

18) Bar (Moneybags)

19) Bar - friend of friend (Italiano)

20) College (McPreppy)

21) My Birthday Party at Bar (Accountant Boy)

22) Work - Ex-client (Client Boy)

23) College (Commercial Boy)

24) Bar (St. Paddy's Day Boy)

25) Bar (Alumni Boy)

26) Bowling - friend of friends (Lawyer Boy)

27) Bar (Ivy Boy)

28) Bar (Celebrity Connections Boy)

29) Work - Associate from a previous job (AGA - Almost Got Away)

30) Apartment Building (Neighbor Man)

31) Martha's Vineyard July 4 Parade (Vineyard Dude)

32) Bar - Friend of a friend (Goldsomething)

33) Bar - Friend of a friend (Georgia Dude)

34) Union Square - Friend of a friend (JewFro)

35) Bar - Friend of a friend (Old Fart)

36) New Year's Party (Epic Fail)

37) Bar - Friend of Epic Fail (Dirty Irish)

38) Bar (All American Idiot)

39) Bar - Bartender (F-List)

40) My Dry Cleaner (Dry Cleaner Boy)

More to come...