It’s been nearly two months since my last entry. Some have asked if I’m going to end the blog and others have asked if I’ve stopped writing altogether. The answer to both questions is: NO. Writing will always be a part of who I am but sometimes life does get in the way. However, when life does get in the way, it creates a path to be creative.
So, what have I been doing in the past two months? Too much to cram into one blog entry but the highlights I can give are as follows…
I’ve been to Boston to visit my dear friend and her family. I did a less-than-twenty-four-hour surprise visit to Minnesota to surprise my friend on her fortieth birthday. Visited Feathers’ at his country house in Pennsylvania and with all my travels, I’ve also managed to get a promotion at work, get my first ever assistant and not to mention: Employee of the Month.
However, in the rare-spare time that I have; I completed my manuscript for my memoir. If anyone out there understands how hard it is to write than they also understand how hard it is to find a publisher unless you’re a politician or a celebrity. It took years to write and my only hope is that this dream of mine of having my memoir published, also doesn’t take years to come to fruition.
In the meantime, while I have been feverishly busy at the start of this year, I also took a break from dating. I hadn’t been on a real date since January and I wasn’t in any rush to go on another bad date. However, about a month ago, I met someone on OKCupid and we have been messaging ever since. We tried a couple of times to schedule our first date but each time we attempted to set a date; the other one was busy. Finally, two weeks ago, we found a date and time that fit both of our schedules.
The date occurred last Wednesday. I picked this cute wine bar that I love, Lela Bar. It’s down in the Village and on certain nights of the week; they have a live jazz band playing. I admit that as I was at my apartment getting ready, I felt out of practice with how to date. After going on a thousand dates, you’d like I could just hit my auto-pilot button and carry on. However, I was nervous that while I enjoyed our messages that the actual live date could be a complete let down (which they often are in this digital dating world we now live in).
Our date was at seven-thirty and true-to-form, I was running about five minutes late. He sent me a text telling me that he had already gotten us seats in the back of the bar. When I entered the bar, he stood up and waved at me. I was relieved that he looked somewhat like his photos.
He was hungry and I’m very reluctant to order food on a first date since I don’t know if it will ever turn out to be a “one glass of wine and leave” situation. Instead, I agreed to order a few appetizers and he informed me that he’s a vegetarian, which isn’t a deal breaker for me. We ordered our appetizers, order the bottle of wine and finally, it was time to get to know each other.
I learned that he was in a long-term relationship that ended last year. He’s in the process of selling his apartment back in Chicago and once that is done, he will be able to live in New York full time. So, for now, his schedule is that he works in New York, Monday through Thursday and in Chicago Friday to Sunday. He confessed that his relationship ended amicably, which I was happy to hear since most of mine end in some Greek-War-like tragedy. He works as a consultant and does rather well for himself, at least that is how he sold himself.
As the date progressed, I still wasn’t sure if I was fully attracted to him but I was having a wonderful time talking and I found myself revealing more about myself than I usually do on a first date. When I realized that I was allowing myself to be so open and honest; I discovered that not only am I having fun but I’m on a “normal” date. Before I knew it, it was past ten and I knew that we both had to be up early the next day for work. I excused myself to use the restroom one more time before leaving the wine bar. When I got out of the restroom, he had paid the entire bill. He said, “I will get this time and you can get the next.” I smiled, put on my coat and we walked outside. We only walked one block down Houston street before I needed to go in the opposite direction to catch the subway. We hugged, kissed goodbye and agreed that our next day would be next Tuesday.
As I sat on the A train, I wasn’t sure what had just happened. I had managed to have a nice time, with a nice guy. I thanked him again via text for a nice evening once I got home and was finding myself looking forward to getting to know someone brand new.
Now, for every great date experience, you must have the bad dates to appreciate the good ones. I already had on my calendar for a date this past Friday. This date was a repeat guy that I went on my last date with this past January. He was a guy that had recently had gastro bypass surgery and back in January had some excess skin removed post-surgery. Even as I write this, I knew I shouldn’t have gone on this date but I did feel a certain amount of empathy toward him.
We hadn’t seen each other or communicated since his skin removal procedure and he confessed he was ready to get back out into the world. So, on Friday of last week, I met him at seven-thirty at a Mexican restaurant near my apartment. The weather was amazing in the city that evening and it was as if everyone in the city had decided to roam the streets. It was packed and when we got inside the restaurant it was too loud for him. So, we got up and left and tried a new restaurant called, Woodlot.
I wasn’t sure if he was drinking at the time, because the last time we met he couldn’t drink in preparation for his surgery. When the waiter arrived at our table, I ordered a Manhattan right away. He followed my lead and ordered himself a bourbon. We spent most of the evening catching each other up on what we had been doing in the last couple of months. After dinner, we walked a bit down Ninth Avenue and I noticed that we were heading in the direction of his apartment. I wasn’t going to let him take me back to his place that easily, so I suggested we stop in one more bar for another bourbon.
As we sat on our bar stools, it must’ve been the bourbon doing the talking for he was talking a mile a minute. What made me sad was that all he talked about was his mother’s cooking back in Mississippi. All the fatty, delicious foods that he could no longer eat. I listened and showed interest the best that I could but deep down I knew that while he had his surgery he mentally still was that old-self and no surgery could cure that.
We went back to his place and quickly began making out on his couch. He was a good kisser, I will give him that and a cute face but I wasn’t physically attracted to him. He suggested we go back to his bedroom and I went. It was on my own free will that I went back to his bedroom because it wasn’t about me but making him feel good about himself again.
Suffice to say the minute I walked into his room, I realized I was getting myself into something that I wasn’t into. You see, the bedroom was painted in this bright fire engine red color, the bedding was all in Tom of Finland (for those that don’t know what that is, don’t Google it, it’s not suitable for work). Yet, I ignore the red walls, I chose not to look at the sexual bedding and went along with this make out session. As the make-out session continued, I looked over to my right and on the nightstand, was something I had never seen in my dating career.
On his nightstand was this beautiful bowl and inside this beautiful bowl was nothing but Magnum condoms filled to the top along with travel size lubricant. I didn’t know what to think but again, I continued. However, as I was continuing, I knew that was present in what I was doing but then I didn’t hear him make any sounds for a bit and when I looked at him…he was asleep. He was in such a deep sleep that I was the white of his eyes rolled back up inside his head.
That was it. I had done and given all I could and I got up, put my shirt back on and then he decided to wake up due to the noises I was making to gather my belongings. He apologized and said he had been up early that morning and wasn’t used to drinking. I do understand that people get tired but when you have a half-naked person in your red covered bedroom along with your bowl of condoms, you had better be present. As I was putting on my coat, I looked at him, just standing there in a white t-shirt, his Spanx-like underwear and excess skin everywhere and I did feel guilty for letting it get that far. However, anyone that has a bowl of condoms can’t be hurting too bad in the sex department. I left and had the option to meet my friends out for a drink but wasn’t ready to share my evening with anyone and decided to go home, take a hot shower and go to bed.
So, there you have it. I’m here. Still living the crazy life that I’ve carved out for myself. Thanks for all the continuous support and I promise to write more often from here on out.
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