"Update" NYC

Do The Right Thing

Last week I wrote about “Time” and how it not only affects our lives but how we live by it. This past week I didn’t find myself so concerned with time but rather with doing the right thing. I consider myself to be a rather good person. I follow the rules, I rarely cause any drama and I have always just wanted happiness for myself and those around me. There will come a point in our lives when we are faced with making choices that at the “Time” seem rather painful but in the end you know what you chose to do was best for the situation. That certainly was the situation I was faced this past week and a half.

Mr. B, my new friend, and I were all set to have dinner at this restaurant that he picked in Chelsea called, Bottino.  The minute he suggested this place, it triggered my memory of the time about two winters ago when I met this guy and he took me to this very restaurant for our first date. I met this guy at Barracuda, where it was a drunken blur and while I went home with him that night. Nothing happened sexually but he did have one request before I ended up passing out in his bed. He wanted me to lie on my stomach so that he could knead my buttocks. I wasn’t quite sure as to the reason behind this request but I was so drunk that I let him do it. The next morning when I woke up in his rather fancy apartment (he had two bathrooms…TWO), we exchanged information and I thought to never hear from him again. To my surprise, he called the next day to ask me out for dinner. This is when he told me he was big foodie and suggested we go to Bottino. When I arrived at the restaurant, he was already waiting for me at the bar and he asked the host to sit us in a particular table. I didn’t think anything about it. It was there that he also told me he has a thing for Latin guys. I took it as a compliment and enjoyed the rest of our evening. That was until we went back to his place.

Once we arrived at his apartment, he opened a bottle of wine and suggested we go back to the bedroom. It was rather forward of him but I figured, what the hell, and so I went. When we got down to our underwear, he asked me again to lie on my stomach so that he could knead my buttocks. He didn’t want to do anything else…just that act. I ended up drinking too much wine while he was back there doing his thing and I again, ended up passing out. The next morning, he suggested we spend the day/night together. I actually enjoyed our conversations and so I agreed; besides it was 12 degrees outside and he had heat. That day, we relaxed on his bed and watched the movie, Love Actually, and had a rather lazy afternoon. At night, we went to this diner just around the corner from his apartment. After dinner, he suggested, since it was so could outside to go back to his place. When we got back to his place, we turned on some music while I sat on his kitchen counter drinking more wine and he just watched me and didn’t drink himself. I asked him if he was going to have any and he said, “No. I just like to watch you drink.” I thought that was a tad freaky but after two glasses of red wine…I didn’t care. After my third glass of wine, he had that look in his eye and I knew he wanted to visit his bedroom again. Before I was to get up off the kitchen counter, I asked him what the deal with him just kneading my buttocks was all about and why he didn’t want to do anything else. He responded with, “That is my thing. I love doing it to younger guys.” It was there that I felt that he suddenly turned into some kind of pervert. I told him that I had something else going on that night and that I couldn’t stay the night after all. He told me that before I go to please open his drawer from his island in the kitchen. I was terrified to find what was in there but obliged to his request. When I saw what was in there, it was just a piece of paper. I pulled it out and asked him if the paper was what he was referring to. He said, “Read it and tell me what you think.” As I read the paper, it was issued by the state of New York. It had a lot of legal jargon but two words I was able to comprehend were the words…RESTRAINING ORDER. I told him I wasn’t going to read anymore and if he could just explain to me what the damn piece of paper was all about. He told me that before he met me, he was dating this Brazilian guy and that after a few months of dating; he gave him a set of keys to his apartment. One day while he was gone at the gym, he came home and found the boyfriend drinking his booze and was waiting for him in the kitchen. When the boyfriend asked him where he had been, he told him that he was at the gym. Well, apparently that was the wrong answer for the next thing he knew…the boyfriend took a kitchen knife and stabbed him in the leg. The guy took the knife out of his leg and then stabbed the boyfriend. Finally the cops came and the rest was all put on that piece of paper I was reading and the boyfriend now had a restraining order against him. Once the story was finished, I told the guy that I don’t think we should see each other anymore. He shook his head and told me he understood and got my coat. I left and never looked back.

This brings us to present time, where I was having dinner with Mr. B. and it was fantastic. He was drinking martinis and I with my red wine. In fact, I was telling him the story of why this restaurant brings back a funny story when as my luck would have it…in walks the guy that I dated two winters ago and with a new Latin guy!!!! It was odd because my back was toward them and I heard this man ask the host if he could be seated at a certain table. It was him!!! I couldn’t believe it, Mr. B. and I had a great laugh at his expense but apparently that is this guy’s gimmick. Bring his victims to the same restaurant, must be a Latin guy and maybe that poor kid’s buttocks would be getting kneaded later on. After dinner, Mr. B. and I got a cab and headed over to the bar, Barrage, where it was just nice to have conversation and getting to know him a bit better. We said our goodbyes and that was the end of a lovely evening.

The next day I was leaving for Fire Island for a long weekend. Things with Mr. Architect and I were already unraveling. He knew what was coming and I knew it to. I just needed to make it official. We both agreed to talk once I got back from Fire Island. The weekend out there was such an utter blur. It was the Ascension Party weekend and all I can say was that I really did a doozy on my body. I drank everything and anything that was poured into my glass. My friends and I danced our asses off and by the time Monday rolled around, we were all in serious pain. I went home that night and had a terrible night sleep because I knew the next day I would be having “the talk” with Mr. Architect.

That day back at the office, I was still in hangover mode but pushed through and acted like nothing happened over the weekend. I emailed Mr. Architect that day and suggested we meet around Central Park where we could talk. He responded with “Ok. Let’s meet around the entrance by the Time Warner Building.” When I got to our meeting place a tad early, I was secretly hoping that he was going to take the hint and just send me a text message calling me a bitch or something. No such luck. We spotted each other, gave each other one of the most awkward hugs in history and proceeded to walk into the park.

As we updated each other on our vacations, which only took about two minutes each; I knew it was my time to speak up. I told him that it is not working out between us and that I don’t think we should see each other romantically anymore. He said he knew something was coming before he left for vacation and wondered why I didn’t say anything to him before his vacation about us ending. I told him that I was trying to be compassionate for I didn’t want to ruin his vacation by dumping him and then his friends would be faced with me also ruining their vacation. He didn’t see it that way, I could tell by his face and his body tightening up that Mr. Architect was in fact…pissed off. We walked a few more steps before I told him a few more reasons why we were no longer going to be dating. About a month ago, I found myself buying him things when I was in stores. I would buy him a baseball cap or a shirt and things that I knew I liked seeing on other guys. It was when I was holding a rather expensive pair of shorts that I wouldn’t even purchase for myself that I realized that I was trying to change a perfectly nice person into my ideal guy. I was pushing this guy to be more social by dragging him to party after party and that was just wrong to try and change a person’s core. Mr. Architect is a quiet and shy person by nature and I was trying to make him into this social butterfly.  He understood those points that I was trying to make. He did tell me that while he enjoyed my friends and found them to be great that we probably could have benefited from spending some more, one on one time together. I told him that I also agreed with that but since I was the one always planning our dates, etc. that it would have been nice if he suggested a date every now and again. I may like to be in control but I do find someone that chases me (not in the stalker way obviously) a major turn on. After we stopped talking, I think we were both desperately trying to find the closest exit out of the park. Once he found his exit, he told me he should be going and I wished him well. Before he left, he did tell me he would never read another article, blog posting or anything that I would write. I gave him a hug and wished him well; turned around and walked back toward my apartment.

I am disappointed that it didn’t work out. Granted, in legal terms, we never were “boyfriends” or “exclusive” but we were in fact “dating.”  I went to bed that night knowing that while I was sad to see his hurt face that I did the right thing by letting him go so that someone can appreciate the things he has to offer the world. While I may not be that person, I have no right to be selfish and keep someone that I am trying to change; especially this early on in the relationship. The next day I received an email from him saying I was right for letting us go because I deserve to be with someone that enjoys life to the fullest and he will continue his search to find someone that matches his level. It was hands down the most mature break-up I have ever experienced.

Moving from a relationship ending to a love blossoming…this past Saturday I was fortunate enough to attend a friend of mine’s wedding (one that I was supposed to attend with Mr. Architect but thankfully I have an amazing friend that was free and able to step in).  As we drove along, I wondered what my state of mind would be at this wedding. Would I have a complete melt down or would I just enjoy the moment and not be selfish in order to celebrate my friends union? I chose the latter because that day wasn’t about me at all rather about these two amazing people coming together before friends and family. Once I got that mind set, I was ready to celebrate.

The wedding was amazing. We arrived at a Best Western in a town smaller than my pinky and from there the guests all gathered on an old school bus where it took us up the mountain on a winding road and there we arrived at the manor where my friends were to be married. There was a banjo band playing and immediately my friend and I agreed that this was going to be an amazing day. As we said our hellos to the groom and sat down outside waiting for the ceremony to begin, there was a small wind that came and the weather was perfect. No humidity, not a cloud in the sky and as they both stood before all of us and the minister read chapters from Dr. Seuss (Oh The Places You’ll Go) and  a wonderful piece from A.A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh), it wasn’t sappy and it wasn’t forced religion. It was simply sweet and innocent. The rest of the evening was brought by tons of dancing, drinking and celebrating. By the time the last song was played, we all were exhausted. The bus took us back down the hill and to our little hotel. My friend and I washed our faces, brushed our teeth and that concluded the wedding.

As the week begins and I have my own birthday looming in a few days (which can easily send anyone into a downward spiral), I couldn’t help but think about what it really means by, “Doing the Right Thing.” It finally occurred to me that while doing the right thing may not always be a pleasant experience; it is those tough time that we remember so that we can appreciate when the good things come our way. Here is to “Doing the Right Thing,” no matter how painful or wonderful it can be.

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1 Comment

  1. Nicole

    missed you last two posts but read this one I was under the impression that things were going well with the architect….I really liked him

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