The holidays always make me nostalgic for home. I’m originally from New York, and you just can’t beat the vibe in the streets, the crisp winter air and overall Christmas spirit that takes over the city. A few years ago, I was living in New York over the holidays and I was casually dating a girl there. I met her a few months earlier through a friend that used to babysit her. (Have no fear, she was of legal age).
We had gone on a few dates, but things were weird between us because I was only in New York for a few months, and she didn’t want to get too invested in a relationship with someone who was leaving. Nevertheless, I did my best to get her drunk in an effort to loosen this restriction. We went for dinner to a nice restaurant and shared some wine. We then went to a few bars on the upper east side and got tanked. We bullshitted a bunch of investment bankers (we lied and said I was a fairly famous director doing research for a new comedy I was working on. I said the movie was about investment bankers and I got a bunch of drunk kids to tell me the craziest stories they had about their bosses).
All in all, we were having a fun night, and I was feeling a vibe from her until some switch went off and she went from fun-drunk to nasty, alcoholic. She spilled her drink down my back and started yelling at people. I decided she needed to go home and I basically had to drag her out of the bar screaming before she got into a fight with someone. We jumped in a cab and I took her to her apartment. When the cab dropped us off, she started yelling at the driver to take me home right away, but I didn’t think she’d be able to get upstairs alone so I decided I would help her.
First, she got out of the car and started yelling a bunch of gibberish at me. I tried to convince her to go upstairs, but she thought it would be more fun to run away from me down the street. I gave in to her little game of cat and mouse, and followed suit. As we got down the street, she found a Christmas tree outside of someone’s apartment and decided to steal it. To be fair, she was no Hercules, as this was New York, and it was a pretty small tree, but she was ruining some kid’s Christmas all the same.
Tree in hand, she took off down the street and headed to the corner bodega. In her drunk state, she realized she wanted cookies, but rather than paying for them with money, she told the clerk that she would be paying with the Christmas tree, threw it at him and ran away laughing. I apologized and give him a $10 bill. It didn’t take me too long to catch up to her because when I left the store, she was already passed out in the middle of the street.
I continued to be a good guy, and tried to help her up and walk her to her building. She wanted none of it, and the second I grabbed her arm to lift her up, she started screaming “Don’t touch me! Help!” She caught her second wind and was now standing up on her own, but her purse was still in the street so I picked it up. She then started screaming again “Help! He’s stealing my purse!”
Woah…I was just trying to be a good guy, but here I was in the middle of New York City, with a drunk girl basically yelling at the top of her lungs that I was raping and robbing her – not cool. Eventually, I got her to her building doing everything short of putting a gag in her mouth. At this point I was still worried that she’s a single girl alone in NY and wanted to make sure she got into her apartment, so I tried to follow her into the building – She slammed the door on my leg. I got her up the elevator, she passed out in the hallway and wrapped herself up with a random jacket she found on the floor.
I went into her purse to get her keys and opened up her apartment. More screaming in the vein of “He’s breaking into my apartment.” Honestly, I had never felt more like a horrible person then I did at that moment, which was the craziest thing because I was actually going out of my way to help. She wouldn’t get up no matter how hard I tried to convince her... “you’re so close, just a few steps and you’ll be home,” so I grabbed her cell phone and tried to call her roommate to tell her I was leaving her in the hallway…No answer. Fuck. I can’t leave her in the hall can I? No, I can’t, so I started to drag her to the door – Now, I can only imagine that if there was a security camera anywhere, I actually did look like a rapist, dragging a girl into an apartment. She woke up mid-drag and stood up. She walked into her apartment, and just made it into the foyer when she immediately passed out on the floor again. “Good enough” I thought, as I locked the door and got the hell out of there.
The next morning she sent me a text that said “Thank you so much for last night. I had a great time.” -Are you fucking kidding me? I thought. I didn’t respond. I got a few more texts from her and she had no idea why I was mad and ignoring her. I replied saying that I had a horrible time, she treated me terribly and made me feel worse than I’ve ever felt before on a date, and it was not my idea of fun. Turns out, she didn’t remember anything past us bullshitting those investment bankers, so I decided I would go over to her house and tell the story to her and her friends. Her friends were amused, and she was horrified. I was about to tell her I thought she might have a drinking problem, but she didn’t want to hear it. A few weeks later I was back in LA, and got a package from her. It was a copy of the movie BLIND DATE with Bruce Willis and a note that said, “If you think our date was bad, watch this movie. It’ll make you feel better.” I didn't want to relive the experience, so I never watched it.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Too much eggnog ruined Christmas
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Vintage Bush
I was at a party the other night and a few people came back to my place for an “after party.” We all got wasted (I didn’t realize how crazy a party it was until the next day when I was cleaning up and found things that I had never seen in real life before). Eventually, the sun started coming up and everyone left. Well almost everyone. There was one girl who stayed (she had liked me for a while), and drunk shenanigans ensued.
She pulled off her dress and tried to seduce me. I wasn’t really that into the make out session that followed (her tongue was a bit like sandpaper), and found it more than a little strange that she was wearing 2 pairs of underwear. Was this a chastity belt? Was it to protect an underwear line? Probably not, because they were both thongs.
I then came to the conclusion that she probably didn’t think the night would end up like it did because I could see her bush poking through both layers of knickers. Is this what girls do? Wear double undies to hide an overgrown hippie garden?
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? All layers of skivvies stayed on to protect me. Then I sent the hairy bush back to the 70s.
She pulled off her dress and tried to seduce me. I wasn’t really that into the make out session that followed (her tongue was a bit like sandpaper), and found it more than a little strange that she was wearing 2 pairs of underwear. Was this a chastity belt? Was it to protect an underwear line? Probably not, because they were both thongs.
I then came to the conclusion that she probably didn’t think the night would end up like it did because I could see her bush poking through both layers of knickers. Is this what girls do? Wear double undies to hide an overgrown hippie garden?
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? All layers of skivvies stayed on to protect me. Then I sent the hairy bush back to the 70s.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Star Tits
I met a girl recently and we flirted quite a bit. I thought she liked me, but I was getting some mixed signals, and she asked me if I wanted to go out with her and her "hot girl friends" to a birthday party over the weekend. She had me at hot girls.
The party was at a gay bar, so I brought 2 of my straight friends, and figured our odds would be pretty good. By the time I got to the bar, this girl was buzzed and it was clear that she wanted me to come for her, and not for her hot girl friends. We were drinking at a table, and lets just say her hands started to wander and before I knew it she was touching me right on the penis -- in the bar. Awesome!
At this point, my two friends (lets call them M and N) were sitting across the table from me, and M mouthed to me the words “I think she likes you.” I mouthed back “you have no idea.”
We left and went back to her place. Now, I have to explain that there was a slight conflict of interests in how we knew each other that made us hooking up a little complicated (I won’t say what the issue was, to protect everyone’s anonymity). Anyway, we started making out on her couch, but she kept interrupting the kissing session by thinking out loud about if we should or shouldn’t do things. She said things like “on the one hand we have this _________ issue, but on the other hand, I’ve wanted to F you since I met you.”
What was a guy to do? Well, eventually her shirt came off and as I went for her bra she said, “Wait, I have to warn you…my nipple is tattooed.” OK, I was intrigued, and it turns out she wasn’t lying. One of her nipples was completely tattooed in the shape of a star. If you’re into tattoos you’d find it very hot, if you’re not, you may think it’s a little weird. As for me, all I could think about was the fact that she could never be buried in a Jewish cemetery. Whatever your personal feelings about the tattoo may be, I hope you can appreciate that to me she will forever be remembered as “Star Tits.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? – I prefer my nipples round. I’m old fashioned that way.
The next day I went to brunch with my buddies that came out the night before and told them about the wandering hands in the bar. M looked to N and said “I told you!” Then they high-fived. You know you have good friends when they high-five each other because you got touched on the penis.
The party was at a gay bar, so I brought 2 of my straight friends, and figured our odds would be pretty good. By the time I got to the bar, this girl was buzzed and it was clear that she wanted me to come for her, and not for her hot girl friends. We were drinking at a table, and lets just say her hands started to wander and before I knew it she was touching me right on the penis -- in the bar. Awesome!
At this point, my two friends (lets call them M and N) were sitting across the table from me, and M mouthed to me the words “I think she likes you.” I mouthed back “you have no idea.”
We left and went back to her place. Now, I have to explain that there was a slight conflict of interests in how we knew each other that made us hooking up a little complicated (I won’t say what the issue was, to protect everyone’s anonymity). Anyway, we started making out on her couch, but she kept interrupting the kissing session by thinking out loud about if we should or shouldn’t do things. She said things like “on the one hand we have this _________ issue, but on the other hand, I’ve wanted to F you since I met you.”
What was a guy to do? Well, eventually her shirt came off and as I went for her bra she said, “Wait, I have to warn you…my nipple is tattooed.” OK, I was intrigued, and it turns out she wasn’t lying. One of her nipples was completely tattooed in the shape of a star. If you’re into tattoos you’d find it very hot, if you’re not, you may think it’s a little weird. As for me, all I could think about was the fact that she could never be buried in a Jewish cemetery. Whatever your personal feelings about the tattoo may be, I hope you can appreciate that to me she will forever be remembered as “Star Tits.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? – I prefer my nipples round. I’m old fashioned that way.
The next day I went to brunch with my buddies that came out the night before and told them about the wandering hands in the bar. M looked to N and said “I told you!” Then they high-fived. You know you have good friends when they high-five each other because you got touched on the penis.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The Follow Up
The weekend came and went, and I never heard back from the girl me. I decided that I had nothing to lose by giving it another shot, so I called her on Tuesday afternoon to follow up. I mustered up some courage dialed and then…she sent my call to voicemail! That’s right – 2 rings, and it was voicemail land for me. Now, she is currently between jobs so it’s not like she was at work. At this point it’s obvious to me that she saw my call, so I still decided to leave a message. I have not heard back.
This got me thinking. Did I do something wrong? Well, there was this one thing...You see she was sarcastic, joked about a lot of things, and didn’t seem to be easily offended. There was witty banter flowing and I may or may not have made a joke about a disorder that one of her relatives had. I obviously didn’t know her relative had it at the time, and she seemed cool with my attempt at humor and even made her own joke about it. In typical Phil form however, I decided to push the envelope and make another follow up joke about an hour later -- that might have been too much. This was a situation where the comedy rule of three may not apply.
OK, lesson learned, don’t make cleft palate jokes on a first date – you never know who may be personally affected by it. Nevertheless, I still don’t think this alone was enough to not give me a second date. I don’t think I read the other signs wrong, so could this really be where I lost my shot?
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I would have eventually done something inappropriate anyway, I guess its better not to prolong the inevitable.
This got me thinking. Did I do something wrong? Well, there was this one thing...You see she was sarcastic, joked about a lot of things, and didn’t seem to be easily offended. There was witty banter flowing and I may or may not have made a joke about a disorder that one of her relatives had. I obviously didn’t know her relative had it at the time, and she seemed cool with my attempt at humor and even made her own joke about it. In typical Phil form however, I decided to push the envelope and make another follow up joke about an hour later -- that might have been too much. This was a situation where the comedy rule of three may not apply.
OK, lesson learned, don’t make cleft palate jokes on a first date – you never know who may be personally affected by it. Nevertheless, I still don’t think this alone was enough to not give me a second date. I don’t think I read the other signs wrong, so could this really be where I lost my shot?
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I would have eventually done something inappropriate anyway, I guess its better not to prolong the inevitable.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Girl Me
2 nights ago I went out with a girl that I can’t stop thinking about. Physically she was exactly my type and on top of that, she actually had an amazing personality. We went for drinks at 8pm and had a fun conversation. She had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and wasn’t afraid to make an offensive joke – perfect for me. We told stories about our childhood, and showed each other funny photos from when we were each 10-years old, and she told me about her pet millipede. We talked about our dating experiences, and this girl had stories even crazier than some of mine.
She has had the unfortunate luck to go on the following dates”
1. She went out with a guy she later found out was a murderer
2. She went out with a guy from Jdate, who turned out to be an Aryan, skinhead, Klan member that tried to hurt her, so she broke his nose
3. And finally (and my personal favorite), after a bit of a dating drought, 2 of her friends took her out on the town, but really brought her to a male whorehouse. She didn’t know what to do, so when the infamous madam said, “What do you want? What is your fantasy? I can make it happen.” She replied, “I’d like a man covered in peanut butter and scrabble pieces.” She just wanted to play scrabble, but the guy showed up with the peanut butter only covering his junk. She didn’t like that, and as she said “I wasn’t going to lick it off of him,” so she didn’t play scrabble and got her money back. (Her friends had the sex). The whole time I was just wondering if it was creamy or chunky.
OK – so we had compatible senses of humor, funny childhood pictures, similar types of friends, and shared stories about getting into legitimately crazy dating situations. This girl was the smoking hot, girl version of me. Seemed perfect!
She told me about her family, and it turned out that her sister is getting married this weekend (in an orthodox, man dance with men, women dance with women party). After talking for 3.5 hours she looked at her watch and said “oh no, I have to get to the airport.” Turned out that she had to pick up her aunt who was flying in from Israel for the wedding (she actually had 4 relatives fly from Israel – all on the same day, but on different flights, so the family was splitting up the airport runs). She said she didn’t realize how late it got, and had expected to leave by 10pm (it was now 11:30). I figured that was a pretty good sign, that I was entertaining enough for her to stay out almost twice as long as she expected.
We walked outside to the valet, and I went to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. I wasn't sure if she was going for the mouth, or didn’t know that I was going for the cheek but we had a near miss, mouth kiss – awkward, but I didn’t think too much of it. After the hug she said “you smell nice – I wasn’t expecting that.” Well, I am full of surprises. I thanked her and said we should hang out again. She agreed and was off.
The next day (yesterday) around lunchtime I sent her a text that said, “hey. I had fun last night. Hope your airport run was a success. I’d love to take you to dinner after the wedding if you’re game.” I haven’t heard back yet. Do you think she’s just busy with family? Playing a game? Or not interested? This is the first girl in a while that I actually want to hear from, but I think she would have written something back by now if she was interested.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I guess I want to date a girl version of myself, but myself may not like me.
She has had the unfortunate luck to go on the following dates”
1. She went out with a guy she later found out was a murderer
2. She went out with a guy from Jdate, who turned out to be an Aryan, skinhead, Klan member that tried to hurt her, so she broke his nose
3. And finally (and my personal favorite), after a bit of a dating drought, 2 of her friends took her out on the town, but really brought her to a male whorehouse. She didn’t know what to do, so when the infamous madam said, “What do you want? What is your fantasy? I can make it happen.” She replied, “I’d like a man covered in peanut butter and scrabble pieces.” She just wanted to play scrabble, but the guy showed up with the peanut butter only covering his junk. She didn’t like that, and as she said “I wasn’t going to lick it off of him,” so she didn’t play scrabble and got her money back. (Her friends had the sex). The whole time I was just wondering if it was creamy or chunky.
OK – so we had compatible senses of humor, funny childhood pictures, similar types of friends, and shared stories about getting into legitimately crazy dating situations. This girl was the smoking hot, girl version of me. Seemed perfect!
She told me about her family, and it turned out that her sister is getting married this weekend (in an orthodox, man dance with men, women dance with women party). After talking for 3.5 hours she looked at her watch and said “oh no, I have to get to the airport.” Turned out that she had to pick up her aunt who was flying in from Israel for the wedding (she actually had 4 relatives fly from Israel – all on the same day, but on different flights, so the family was splitting up the airport runs). She said she didn’t realize how late it got, and had expected to leave by 10pm (it was now 11:30). I figured that was a pretty good sign, that I was entertaining enough for her to stay out almost twice as long as she expected.
We walked outside to the valet, and I went to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. I wasn't sure if she was going for the mouth, or didn’t know that I was going for the cheek but we had a near miss, mouth kiss – awkward, but I didn’t think too much of it. After the hug she said “you smell nice – I wasn’t expecting that.” Well, I am full of surprises. I thanked her and said we should hang out again. She agreed and was off.
The next day (yesterday) around lunchtime I sent her a text that said, “hey. I had fun last night. Hope your airport run was a success. I’d love to take you to dinner after the wedding if you’re game.” I haven’t heard back yet. Do you think she’s just busy with family? Playing a game? Or not interested? This is the first girl in a while that I actually want to hear from, but I think she would have written something back by now if she was interested.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I guess I want to date a girl version of myself, but myself may not like me.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Baby Talk
I met a girl at a Halloween party – she was dressed like Barbie and I got her number. We wound up going out for drinks and eventually made it back to my place. We made out for a bit and then she started asking me a million questions – from “do you have any siblings?” To “what do your parents do?” etc. Eventually she asked me what my favorite color was, and I said “I don’t know, I don’t think I have one – I’m not 7.”
Was this a little harsh? Maybe, but I was getting annoyed. My response caused some kind of switch to go off in her, and she started talking like a baby – literally baby talk voice. I don’t remember what she said exactly, because I was freaking out, and couldn’t believe this was actually happening. At one point in baby voice she said, “why don’t you ask me any questions?” I responded, “I don’t know, I’d rather find stuff out naturally, and not turn making out into an interview.”
There was an awkward beat, and then she told me she asked if she could tell me something. I said "sure" and she replied (still in baby voice) “I used to be a stripper.” “That’s ok” I replied – after all, what else was I supposed to say at this point. She said, “Really? it doesn’t bother you?” I said no (but lets be honest, she lost me with the baby talk, and I already knew I’d never go out with her again, so no need to offend her further). She then asked if I wanted a lap dance.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Strippers shouldn’t talk, or give lap dances while fully clothed -- it causes chafing
P.S. I called my dad in the morning. I didn’t give him all the details, but explained that I had a crazy date. He said, “I’ve got news for you” (he’s an “I’ve got news for you” kind of guy) “I’ve got news for you, you have to go through the crazy ones to get to the good ones. Trust me, before I met your mother I went out with A LOT of crazy girls. A LOT.” --Thanks Dad.
Was this a little harsh? Maybe, but I was getting annoyed. My response caused some kind of switch to go off in her, and she started talking like a baby – literally baby talk voice. I don’t remember what she said exactly, because I was freaking out, and couldn’t believe this was actually happening. At one point in baby voice she said, “why don’t you ask me any questions?” I responded, “I don’t know, I’d rather find stuff out naturally, and not turn making out into an interview.”
There was an awkward beat, and then she told me she asked if she could tell me something. I said "sure" and she replied (still in baby voice) “I used to be a stripper.” “That’s ok” I replied – after all, what else was I supposed to say at this point. She said, “Really? it doesn’t bother you?” I said no (but lets be honest, she lost me with the baby talk, and I already knew I’d never go out with her again, so no need to offend her further). She then asked if I wanted a lap dance.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Strippers shouldn’t talk, or give lap dances while fully clothed -- it causes chafing
P.S. I called my dad in the morning. I didn’t give him all the details, but explained that I had a crazy date. He said, “I’ve got news for you” (he’s an “I’ve got news for you” kind of guy) “I’ve got news for you, you have to go through the crazy ones to get to the good ones. Trust me, before I met your mother I went out with A LOT of crazy girls. A LOT.” --Thanks Dad.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A Challenge
Last night I hung out with a friend of mine from England. We were talking about girls (obviously) and hooking up on each other’s respective continents. One thing led to another, and being from different countries, we wondered if it was possible for someone to hook up with 2 people at the same time, in 2 different countries?
I know this is confusing and is very “Back to the Future,” but stay with me McFly. You see when you fly from England to Los Angeles, you make up a few hours with the time difference, but not enough to go back in time. A few years ago however, I was in Japan and I left Tokyo at 4:30 in the afternoon, and got back to LA around 9am that same day. This means I in fact time traveled almost 7.5 hours into the past!
This makes our hypothesis possible, so here is the challenge I present: Can anyone/has anyone out there hooked up with someone in another country, then jumped on a plane, traveled back home with a time difference big enough to then hook up with someone else at the exact same time, on the exact same day?
This could be an expensive challenge (especially if you fail on the first attempt and have to try again), but I really want to know if anyone thinks they can or has done this. My theory is that in order to do it, you have to put some time in with a girl or guy in your home country, so you know you can hook up with her/him upon your return. Then travel somewhere and stay there until you meet someone and hook up. Then immediately get to the airport and head home. Make sure girl/guy from home country picks you up at the airport and have a very nice, exotic gift for her/him. The rest is up to you, and your charm. Hopefully you sleep on the plane in this scenario so the jet lag doesn’t knock you right out when you land.
I think this challenge is probably way easier for the ladies. Double points if while accomplishing this task you join the mile high club.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? It’s still last night somewhere
I know this is confusing and is very “Back to the Future,” but stay with me McFly. You see when you fly from England to Los Angeles, you make up a few hours with the time difference, but not enough to go back in time. A few years ago however, I was in Japan and I left Tokyo at 4:30 in the afternoon, and got back to LA around 9am that same day. This means I in fact time traveled almost 7.5 hours into the past!
This makes our hypothesis possible, so here is the challenge I present: Can anyone/has anyone out there hooked up with someone in another country, then jumped on a plane, traveled back home with a time difference big enough to then hook up with someone else at the exact same time, on the exact same day?
This could be an expensive challenge (especially if you fail on the first attempt and have to try again), but I really want to know if anyone thinks they can or has done this. My theory is that in order to do it, you have to put some time in with a girl or guy in your home country, so you know you can hook up with her/him upon your return. Then travel somewhere and stay there until you meet someone and hook up. Then immediately get to the airport and head home. Make sure girl/guy from home country picks you up at the airport and have a very nice, exotic gift for her/him. The rest is up to you, and your charm. Hopefully you sleep on the plane in this scenario so the jet lag doesn’t knock you right out when you land.
I think this challenge is probably way easier for the ladies. Double points if while accomplishing this task you join the mile high club.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? It’s still last night somewhere
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Polanski Predicament
I met a girl through a work situation who I thought was cute, and we started talking. She was from out of town but now works in LA. I thought she was probably around 22/23 (a typical age for someone doing her job), but after a bit of conversation I found out she was still in school, so I figured she must have been only 20 or so. A bit young for me but I was cool with it, so we talked some more, and I found out she was in a 2-year college, which meant she was probably closer to 19? Finally, I came out and asked her how old she was and she said 18.
Well, I know that’s legal and all, but I felt weird about it. She’s so young, and at the end of the night I decided not to ask for her number. When I went to go home I got to my car and realized that I forgot one of my binders inside, so I went back in and bumped in to her. There was a very awkward pause, which led to us exchanging info. The next day, she wrote me an email saying it was nice to meet me and I replied with a similar exchange of pleasantries, and decided to keep it very much on the friend tip. I wasn't trying to go out with an 18 year old - a decision many of my friends disagreed with.
A few weeks later we ran into each other at a party, and after having another good conversation, we decided that we would grab lunch during the week. She then said something weird as we continued our conversation -- she mentioned that she was about to start college. I asked when her birthday was, and she said it was in November. I did the math in my head, and said I was pretty sure that when you go to college you are either 17 going on 18, or you would have recently turned 18. She again said she was 18 about to be 19, but I thought something was fishy.
I didn’t feel good about our potential “date” and was ready to blow it off, when she canceled because she had to work. OK cool, I was relieved and thought it was for the best. I wasn't going to contact her again -- I wanted to find a girl to be in a relationship with, and it just didn't seem to me that an 18 year old would be that girl, so why should I waste my time? 2 days later I got an email that said this: “I’m sorry I canceled our plans for work, but I didn’t have work. I have to come clean about something. I’m really 17 going on 18, not 18 going on 19. For work and professional purposes I had to say I was 18 so nobody would get in trouble.”
WHAT?? Well, I'm glad she wanted to protect her employer by saying she was 18, but for personal reasons, this was exactly how you could get someone in the worst kind of trouble -- Roman Polanski style. She went on to say, “I’m really sorry I lied, and there were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth, but we were always around work people. I want you to know that everything else I said was 100% me.”
Wow – Now, I had no desire to get involved in this any further and my only response was “No worries. Good luck with school.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I’m a law-abiding citizen but fellas...in a few weeks she’ll be legal
Well, I know that’s legal and all, but I felt weird about it. She’s so young, and at the end of the night I decided not to ask for her number. When I went to go home I got to my car and realized that I forgot one of my binders inside, so I went back in and bumped in to her. There was a very awkward pause, which led to us exchanging info. The next day, she wrote me an email saying it was nice to meet me and I replied with a similar exchange of pleasantries, and decided to keep it very much on the friend tip. I wasn't trying to go out with an 18 year old - a decision many of my friends disagreed with.
A few weeks later we ran into each other at a party, and after having another good conversation, we decided that we would grab lunch during the week. She then said something weird as we continued our conversation -- she mentioned that she was about to start college. I asked when her birthday was, and she said it was in November. I did the math in my head, and said I was pretty sure that when you go to college you are either 17 going on 18, or you would have recently turned 18. She again said she was 18 about to be 19, but I thought something was fishy.
I didn’t feel good about our potential “date” and was ready to blow it off, when she canceled because she had to work. OK cool, I was relieved and thought it was for the best. I wasn't going to contact her again -- I wanted to find a girl to be in a relationship with, and it just didn't seem to me that an 18 year old would be that girl, so why should I waste my time? 2 days later I got an email that said this: “I’m sorry I canceled our plans for work, but I didn’t have work. I have to come clean about something. I’m really 17 going on 18, not 18 going on 19. For work and professional purposes I had to say I was 18 so nobody would get in trouble.”
WHAT?? Well, I'm glad she wanted to protect her employer by saying she was 18, but for personal reasons, this was exactly how you could get someone in the worst kind of trouble -- Roman Polanski style. She went on to say, “I’m really sorry I lied, and there were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth, but we were always around work people. I want you to know that everything else I said was 100% me.”
Wow – Now, I had no desire to get involved in this any further and my only response was “No worries. Good luck with school.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? I’m a law-abiding citizen but fellas...in a few weeks she’ll be legal
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
“I’m a bad girl”
My mom has been bugging me to go out with a girl that her colleague “J” knows. She lives near me, but I really didn’t trust my mom to set me up. To her credit, she got her friend to send me photos but didn’t send the girl any info about me. She was cute, and to appease my dear mother I went out with her.
We went for dinner and she seemed ok. She was cute, knew a lot about cars but seemed like a party girl. She did get a little ahead of herself, talking about me meeting her parents on our first date, but I ignored it and changed the subject. After dinner we went back to my place to look at some of my travel photos.
3 pictures into my portfolio, and we were making out. Everything was going how it should, and then she stopped for a second and declared, “I have to tell you, I’m a bad girl.” OK – now that’s a little weird, but I figured we were in business. I wasn’t exactly sure what the proper response should be so I just asked, “what do you mean?” She said, “I have criminal charges against me.”
Not the response I was expecting. It turns out, this girl is a boxer and when she caught her ex cheating on her, she beat the shit out of him and the new girl.
I immediately called my mom and told her what happened. Her reply -- “Oh, “J” knew about that." (silence from me) "At least she’s Jewish,” my mom continued. -- Thanks mom, I’m glad you have your priorities straight.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? The date went to the scorecards and the judges decided by unanimous decision that my mom is no longer allowed to set me up.
We went for dinner and she seemed ok. She was cute, knew a lot about cars but seemed like a party girl. She did get a little ahead of herself, talking about me meeting her parents on our first date, but I ignored it and changed the subject. After dinner we went back to my place to look at some of my travel photos.
3 pictures into my portfolio, and we were making out. Everything was going how it should, and then she stopped for a second and declared, “I have to tell you, I’m a bad girl.” OK – now that’s a little weird, but I figured we were in business. I wasn’t exactly sure what the proper response should be so I just asked, “what do you mean?” She said, “I have criminal charges against me.”
Not the response I was expecting. It turns out, this girl is a boxer and when she caught her ex cheating on her, she beat the shit out of him and the new girl.
I immediately called my mom and told her what happened. Her reply -- “Oh, “J” knew about that." (silence from me) "At least she’s Jewish,” my mom continued. -- Thanks mom, I’m glad you have your priorities straight.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? The date went to the scorecards and the judges decided by unanimous decision that my mom is no longer allowed to set me up.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Model (Part 2 – scroll down to read Part 1 first)
So we left the AIDS apartment, started walking around East London and eventually wound up at a party in an abandoned warehouse. This area can best be described as Williamsburg before it was safe. Inside, everyone was dressed up. There was a guy with mutton chops wearing an outfit straight out of the old west, a few girls dressed as Flappers, a girl with a 40’s thing going on, one wearing a poodle skirt, a guy wearing daisy dukes, suspenders and nothing else, and then my personal favorite – girl with full face-make up like she was in the Broadway production of CATS. (I know that's 2 Broadway analogies in 2 posts, but who doesn't love a good musical. Am I right fellas?)
Logically, I asked if this was a costume party. Model girl said, “No. This is East London.” --"Oh, East London you say?" -- makes perfect sense to the American. Apparently, these people dress like this every day.
I don't even know how to explain how crazy this place was, but let me try by painting you a picture:
Do you know the super creepy scene from THE SHINING when Jack Nicholson finds all of the ghosts partying and everyone is dressed weird? Well I was at that party if that party also had lots of drugs. Everyone was F'd up on drugs I had never seen before. They were doing Ketamines (horse tranquilizers), MDMA and acid so recreationally it was like they were out on a leisure walk in a heath rather than gluttonously filling their bodies with illegal narcotics. There was also coke and hash – but that was the equivalent of milk and oxygen to this group. There was no beer, or any drink not in an open container, so at this point I was paranoid that everything had acid in it and I officially became the sober guy at a drug party.
Some other model came over and was talking to model girl and me. We were all sitting on a couch, and 2 minutes later these girls were fully making out. I declined their offer for drugs, and they went to a room together (a more suave guy may have seen their drug offer as an opportunity for a 3 way, but I'm not that guy and this was all way over my head). I stepped outside where a girl on acid told me the stars were moving really fast. When I looked to the sky I realized that it was only the clouds moving in front of the stars – she acknowledged that my hypothesis made more sense.
The girls came out of the room, everyone smoked hashish, the new model left, and model girl asked if I wanted to go back to her place and keep partying. It was now 5:30am, and I lied saying I had to work in the morning, so she called me a cab (which was not a real cab, but some guy with a car, who charged me 30 pounds to get home), kissed me goodnight and said “Well, I hope you enjoyed seeing the real London.”
The next day at work, I told this story and the general response from the locals was “Sounds like a fun Saturday in Shoreditch.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Kind of a cross between A CLOCKWORK ORANGE and THE SHINING. Scratch that. It was just a typical night in East London (but I wish I brought my camera).
Logically, I asked if this was a costume party. Model girl said, “No. This is East London.” --"Oh, East London you say?" -- makes perfect sense to the American. Apparently, these people dress like this every day.
I don't even know how to explain how crazy this place was, but let me try by painting you a picture:
Do you know the super creepy scene from THE SHINING when Jack Nicholson finds all of the ghosts partying and everyone is dressed weird? Well I was at that party if that party also had lots of drugs. Everyone was F'd up on drugs I had never seen before. They were doing Ketamines (horse tranquilizers), MDMA and acid so recreationally it was like they were out on a leisure walk in a heath rather than gluttonously filling their bodies with illegal narcotics. There was also coke and hash – but that was the equivalent of milk and oxygen to this group. There was no beer, or any drink not in an open container, so at this point I was paranoid that everything had acid in it and I officially became the sober guy at a drug party.
Some other model came over and was talking to model girl and me. We were all sitting on a couch, and 2 minutes later these girls were fully making out. I declined their offer for drugs, and they went to a room together (a more suave guy may have seen their drug offer as an opportunity for a 3 way, but I'm not that guy and this was all way over my head). I stepped outside where a girl on acid told me the stars were moving really fast. When I looked to the sky I realized that it was only the clouds moving in front of the stars – she acknowledged that my hypothesis made more sense.
The girls came out of the room, everyone smoked hashish, the new model left, and model girl asked if I wanted to go back to her place and keep partying. It was now 5:30am, and I lied saying I had to work in the morning, so she called me a cab (which was not a real cab, but some guy with a car, who charged me 30 pounds to get home), kissed me goodnight and said “Well, I hope you enjoyed seeing the real London.”
The next day at work, I told this story and the general response from the locals was “Sounds like a fun Saturday in Shoreditch.”
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Kind of a cross between A CLOCKWORK ORANGE and THE SHINING. Scratch that. It was just a typical night in East London (but I wish I brought my camera).
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Model (Part 1)
After NY, I went to London for work and met a girl who was a model. She was taller than me, had a figure that would give teenage girls body issues, and was way out of my league. But, when I met her she must have been bored and I must have been barely charming enough to entertain her. Some colleagues said they thought she was into me, and I agreed but couldn’t understand why. We talked some more and eventually she posed the question, “So do you want my number?” “umm, uh, yeah. Yeah totally” I smoothly replied. She took my phone and plugged in her info. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” she asked. “I have no plans” I said. “Do you want to grab some drinks and see the real London?” she continued. I was down (and was hoping that "the real London" was some kind of euphemism), and she told me she would call me when she woke up.
Well, I didn’t hear from her until 4pm. I got a text saying she just woke up – it was a crazy night, and she’d call me later when she knew the plan. Now, I haven't had a night crazy enough to sleep till 4 in over a decade, but I'm in another country so I just figure its so European to party like that. At 7 I hadn’t heard anything so I gave her a call... she was at the park with friends, but was going to have drinks at her place later and call me in a bit.
The call came at 12:30am (booty call time for most people, but brunch time for a party girl). So I bought some liquor and headed over there. When I showed up, I was pretty sure I was at the wrong place. Her apartment was what I imagine the real life “RENT” apartment was – it felt like a crack house but dirtier. She didn’t even have a refrigerator (I guess models don’t eat anyway), and she was wearing the same outfit as the day before. Her roommate was out of town, and she was subletting the room to a gay couple from another country (but currently they were in a corner making out) and also, they don’t speak any English.
A few of her friends showed up – one girl who seemed like a cool lesbian, and another girl who was totally drunk, and bleeding. Apparently she fell off her bike on her way over. (They should teach kids not to drink and ride in school). I don’t do well with blood, so of course she must sense this and bloody girl doesn’t leave me alone. She takes at least 30 pictures of me and keeps patting my face, telling me how “lovely” I was. Then a guy walks in that they know, but wasn’t invited. He doesn’t say a single word, but he has a new tattoo on his chest that is also bleeding. While bloody girl touches my face, bloody boy steals the vodka and leaves.
The model saves me from bloody girl and we go into her room to look at pictures of her from a big fashion campaign, various other shoots, and some naked ones. I am kind of freaked out by the whole place at this point and can't enjoy it. I feel like AIDS is everywhere around me, and am afraid if any body part with a mucous membrane was exposed to her apartment it could potentially contract a disease and fall off. I didn't want to touch anything, and wished I carried toilet seat covers with me so I'd be relaxed enough to sit down.
Eventually, the guests left and I felt as uncomfortable as I imagine a trip to the ob gyn must be. This was no place for a nice Jewish boy from NY, but when model girl asked if I wanted to go to a party (it was now 3:30am), I said sure…because I knew I needed an ending for this story....
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Tune in next time to find out.
Well, I didn’t hear from her until 4pm. I got a text saying she just woke up – it was a crazy night, and she’d call me later when she knew the plan. Now, I haven't had a night crazy enough to sleep till 4 in over a decade, but I'm in another country so I just figure its so European to party like that. At 7 I hadn’t heard anything so I gave her a call... she was at the park with friends, but was going to have drinks at her place later and call me in a bit.
The call came at 12:30am (booty call time for most people, but brunch time for a party girl). So I bought some liquor and headed over there. When I showed up, I was pretty sure I was at the wrong place. Her apartment was what I imagine the real life “RENT” apartment was – it felt like a crack house but dirtier. She didn’t even have a refrigerator (I guess models don’t eat anyway), and she was wearing the same outfit as the day before. Her roommate was out of town, and she was subletting the room to a gay couple from another country (but currently they were in a corner making out) and also, they don’t speak any English.
A few of her friends showed up – one girl who seemed like a cool lesbian, and another girl who was totally drunk, and bleeding. Apparently she fell off her bike on her way over. (They should teach kids not to drink and ride in school). I don’t do well with blood, so of course she must sense this and bloody girl doesn’t leave me alone. She takes at least 30 pictures of me and keeps patting my face, telling me how “lovely” I was. Then a guy walks in that they know, but wasn’t invited. He doesn’t say a single word, but he has a new tattoo on his chest that is also bleeding. While bloody girl touches my face, bloody boy steals the vodka and leaves.
The model saves me from bloody girl and we go into her room to look at pictures of her from a big fashion campaign, various other shoots, and some naked ones. I am kind of freaked out by the whole place at this point and can't enjoy it. I feel like AIDS is everywhere around me, and am afraid if any body part with a mucous membrane was exposed to her apartment it could potentially contract a disease and fall off. I didn't want to touch anything, and wished I carried toilet seat covers with me so I'd be relaxed enough to sit down.
Eventually, the guests left and I felt as uncomfortable as I imagine a trip to the ob gyn must be. This was no place for a nice Jewish boy from NY, but when model girl asked if I wanted to go to a party (it was now 3:30am), I said sure…because I knew I needed an ending for this story....
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Tune in next time to find out.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Homeless Beer Girl
I was in NY for work, and on my first weekend in town a friend told me to come to his bar for drinks. I did and I met a really cute girl. We got along off the bat, and I took her number. She was a book editor, and I told her I was in town working on a movie. We exchanged numbers, I waited a few days and gave her a call. She told me that she looked me up to make sure that I wasn’t bullshitting her, and even though I hadn’t told her my last name, I guess I told her the name of someone I worked with, and she was resourceful enough to figure out who I was on IMDB. Some people may think this is a little crazy, but I liked it. A New York girl who takes care of herself, and weeds out the guys that are full of shit.
I said that since I passed her test, it was now her turn to pass mine. I explained that I hadn’t been in NY in a while, and I challenged her to find a cool, but not trendy place for me to take her to dinner that Friday.
She passed this exam with flying colors -- a great sushi place in the East Village, good drinks and witty banter (did I forget to mention she was heavy chested?). Things were going well, and I had a bit of a buzz, so we collectively decided to go grab drinks at a nearby bar. Another good choice on her part. We danced for a bit, had a few cocktails, and then I made my move. “It’s loud in here, would you like to take a walk?” She couldn’t resist and we went to Union Square and sat on the steps.
Just when my game was getting good, a homeless guy came up asking for money. I said “sorry man,” and expected him to leave us alone. No such luck. He told us a sob story about his band not touring and now he had to pan handle for rent money. He said he was Jewish and my date told him I was too. (This is strike one – lets not try to find common interests with the homeless guy). In an effort to rid myself of this guy’s odor I gave him whatever change was in my pocket – probably around 83 cents. The guy took the money, but didn’t put it in his cup. “Wait a minute” says my date, “why didn’t you put it in your cup?” “Oh, this is beer” replies the homeless man, “Want some?”
Well, my date says “sure,” takes a giant swig from the homeless guy’s cup (strike 2), and I internally freak out. The guy then tells us that he is a heroin addict, and now I am beyond grossed out (I'm a bit of a hypochondriac as it is, but this was crazy). I say its getting late and we should grab cabs. On the walk to the corner, I realize I’ll probably never talk to this girl again, so I have nothing to lose, and I say “Wow. That was crazy. I can’t believe you drank from the homeless guys beer.” Homegirl’s drunk response…”Whatever, sometimes I do crazy things.” (Strike 3). I mean if this crazy thing gets a “whatever,” I don’t want to think about the crazy thing she did that she actually regrets!
I put her in a cab and did my best to give her a hug without touching her. I called my friend and told him the story. He said, “Well, maybe she was just really drunk” - and he tried to get me to give her another chance.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Really drunk don’t cure hepatitis.
I said that since I passed her test, it was now her turn to pass mine. I explained that I hadn’t been in NY in a while, and I challenged her to find a cool, but not trendy place for me to take her to dinner that Friday.
She passed this exam with flying colors -- a great sushi place in the East Village, good drinks and witty banter (did I forget to mention she was heavy chested?). Things were going well, and I had a bit of a buzz, so we collectively decided to go grab drinks at a nearby bar. Another good choice on her part. We danced for a bit, had a few cocktails, and then I made my move. “It’s loud in here, would you like to take a walk?” She couldn’t resist and we went to Union Square and sat on the steps.
Just when my game was getting good, a homeless guy came up asking for money. I said “sorry man,” and expected him to leave us alone. No such luck. He told us a sob story about his band not touring and now he had to pan handle for rent money. He said he was Jewish and my date told him I was too. (This is strike one – lets not try to find common interests with the homeless guy). In an effort to rid myself of this guy’s odor I gave him whatever change was in my pocket – probably around 83 cents. The guy took the money, but didn’t put it in his cup. “Wait a minute” says my date, “why didn’t you put it in your cup?” “Oh, this is beer” replies the homeless man, “Want some?”
Well, my date says “sure,” takes a giant swig from the homeless guy’s cup (strike 2), and I internally freak out. The guy then tells us that he is a heroin addict, and now I am beyond grossed out (I'm a bit of a hypochondriac as it is, but this was crazy). I say its getting late and we should grab cabs. On the walk to the corner, I realize I’ll probably never talk to this girl again, so I have nothing to lose, and I say “Wow. That was crazy. I can’t believe you drank from the homeless guys beer.” Homegirl’s drunk response…”Whatever, sometimes I do crazy things.” (Strike 3). I mean if this crazy thing gets a “whatever,” I don’t want to think about the crazy thing she did that she actually regrets!
I put her in a cab and did my best to give her a hug without touching her. I called my friend and told him the story. He said, “Well, maybe she was just really drunk” - and he tried to get me to give her another chance.
SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? Really drunk don’t cure hepatitis.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
A New Beginning
I recently got out of a long-term relationship. I had my heart broken, but eventually I got back out on the horse. Almost everyone I know is in a committed relationship, so I’m a little alone on the dating circuit.
I have great friends who want me to be happy, but also selfishly want me to find someone so we can double date. They do however take a genuine interest in my adventures and keep asking the proverbial question “So how was last night?” I decided the best way to answer was to start this site.
I will talk about my dating experiences – past and present, crazy and mundane, and everything in between on my quest to find true love in Los Angeles. I hope this site can be interactive. I welcome everyone’s advice, insight and opinions regarding my tales of tail, and would love for others to share their stories here as well.
Now Oprah, if you’re reading this please note that certain names and events will be changed to protect people’s identities, and some facts will be combined or changed in the interest of telling the clearest, most concise story, so please don’t go all “A Million Little Pieces” on me.
Welcome to my mind…
I have great friends who want me to be happy, but also selfishly want me to find someone so we can double date. They do however take a genuine interest in my adventures and keep asking the proverbial question “So how was last night?” I decided the best way to answer was to start this site.
I will talk about my dating experiences – past and present, crazy and mundane, and everything in between on my quest to find true love in Los Angeles. I hope this site can be interactive. I welcome everyone’s advice, insight and opinions regarding my tales of tail, and would love for others to share their stories here as well.
Now Oprah, if you’re reading this please note that certain names and events will be changed to protect people’s identities, and some facts will be combined or changed in the interest of telling the clearest, most concise story, so please don’t go all “A Million Little Pieces” on me.
Welcome to my mind…
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