Galentine’s Day Surprises!

The first one really isn’t actually surprising… my girlfriends are FUN!  We spent a good part of the afternoon chatting, eating and sipping gulping delicious mimosas at the cutest brunch spot I’ve been to yet! (Mezetto in LES, it’s fabulous!)  A Galentine’s Day success in my book!

After one more drink at my roommate’s favorite dive bar, we decide to head home to prepare for our respective evenings ahead.  Walking down the stairs to the train, who do I see?  None other than the infamous James and Jim and one other fella I met the weekend before.  Liquid confidence still coursing through my veins, I decide after a nod of confirmation from my roommate that I should most definitely greet these gentlemen standing so conveniently at the foot of the stairwell.

I do and the conversation over the next 20 minutes is easy-going, which was to me the most surprising part of the day! Not sure why but I expected Jim to be completely disinterested after his first impression of me.  My insecure, inebriated self definitely tried to protect me for the future which turned out to be unnecessary, as far as I can tell.

The five of us continued to talk as we boarded the Brooklyn bound train and all I could think was ‘How red is my face?’ ‘Are my eyes super squinty?’ ‘Ah I hope I am not too obviously tipsy even though I am sure I have mentioned it at least once at this point.’

My roommate and I ended up getting off the train first and although no numbers were exchanged, my spirits were lifted and my dignity was somehow redeemed.

Fast forward to a few hours later and after some consultation, I decided to do something I never do… Message him first.  Yes, I did an anti-chivalrous act and threw myself out there to be vulnerable.  While the risk of rejection should be looming over me, I just kept saying ‘Why not?  What do I really have to lose this time?’

Where will your leap of faith take you this week?

Lack of Consideration

As I have met different couples over the years, whether they are dating or married, something I find interesting is the lack of consideration.

This observation is not to say that these couples do not care for or love each other, but the phrase itself “to consider” has various levels that many people may not acknowledge.

I first noticed this in a short-term relationship of my own during the evening of our final date (yes, this was the straw).  Let’s call him Jackson.  Jackson decided to make all of the plans for our midweek meetup.  For some this would be romantic, but to me it was irritating and careless.  After a long few days of work, I was definitely looking forward to a night out.  Jackson asks me early in the day which movie I want to see.  I respond with “No Reservations” but was already a tad annoyed that he even had to ask as we had discussed this over the weekend (petty, I know).

As the day progresses Jackson tells me to meet him in Union Square (a common focal point for many of the men I date) after work.  I do and on the subway ride there I fantasize about just how good sushi sounded at that moment, refreshing and light but flavorful.  I spot him in the crowd near the chess tables and he informs me that we are going to a taco place not far from the theater.  For some strange reason I didn’t protest, probably because we were about to watch a movie about cooking gourmet food and I would get my flavor-fix virtually instead.

At dinner I ask what time the movie starts, mostly to see if we have time for dessert, but also just to know because I am a bit of a control freak.  Jackson pulls out the tickets which he pre-purchased (sigh) and I read “Planet of the Apes 2” starting at 7:40pm.  I almost left my burrito and ticket on the table but I just sat there, staring at the ticket.  Shock? Disappointment?  Apathy? Not sure what kept me there, really.

While my appetite was lost and my blood began to boil, I try to get through the next few hours of clammy hand holding and unnecessary explanations in my ear about a movie I couldn’t believe I was watching and it’s prequel I had never cared to see.  Yes, it was painful and furthest from what I imagined a relaxing escape from the daily grind would be but it was an important night for me.

On my way home I tried to convince myself that I was only annoyed because of the stress from work and life.  Before I got off the train I struggled to admit to myself that it was so much more.

How many times had I forced a boyfriend to see a movie he didn’t want to see?  To eat at a restaurant he didn’t care for?  To attend an event he knew nothing about?  To spend time with people he would never speak to again?  And of those, how many times did I actually consider his thoughts, feelings or mental state?  Unless it was his birthday or some other important event involving him, I am 99% positive I never even thought to ask for his input and if I did, it was just to be “considerate”.

While I have dated for years and have experienced a wide range of relationships, the one constant has always been me.  Yes, I have grown and learned more about myself with each experience but it’s amazing how much I don’t know and do as a girlfriend, especially once we are in that super comfortable stage.

Now when I hear a woman mention that she will have to talk with her partner before making plans, my soul applauds her.  No relationship is perfect but it’s these extra strides of consideration that can make a huge difference in the long run.

If Jackson had asked or even just told me beforehand what he had mind for our date, would we still be together?  I hope not.  That would mean it would’ve taken longer for me to learn this lesson.

May you master the art of considering your loved ones in all ways that you can.

Valentine’s Day: The Best Day to Meet Single Men (and Women)

Since I was a teenager, I somehow always had a boyfriend around Valentine’s Day. Luck? Insecurity? Boredom?

What I realize now is that I never really paid attention to what my single friends did on and around this day of love.  Being the most annoyingly thoughtful girlfriend I could be for all of my sub-par boyfriends took up all of my time.

The year after college, I was the most single I had been since I started my dating career.  Coming out of a pretty bad break-up and going into a New Year/New Me campaign, I really wasn’t sure what to expect or do for this heart-ridden holiday.

To my amazement, February 14th was the best night to go out for single ladies.  My friends and I decided to start at a random bar in the Lower East Side and what did we find? Whiskey, pool tables and lots of men.

At first, I was shocked but the more I think about it, the more it makes it sense.  What else are single people to do on a night where couples schmooz each other over nice wine and steak dinners?

Last year I did end up meeting a couple of interesting fellas and I am kind of excited to see what Cupid’s arrows have in store for me this time around.

Maybe he’s gay?

What follows is the story that has led me to believe that I am not only the Gigi of my worst nightmare, but I may also just be really bad at reading men… all men.

While dancing at a could-be-awesome-in-summer-bar with a friend and her roomie’s birthday posse, the Lagunitas IPA’s start to kick in and so do my airguitar skills.  After an evening of suppressing the sadness of missing my miserable ex, I realize that I just needed a night to let loose and to have a little fun.  So I do and I am enjoying it for a good portion of the night.  My friend and I are dancing and laughing and pointing out all of the potential cute guys in the group of unknowns that we pretend to know so well.

At one point we meet James and Jim – yes, these are two different people.  James was definitely a nice guy and I really should cut my judgment there but this is my blog so why the heck would I?  James was everything I hope I am not in guy form. He was awkward, he did not understand personal bubble boundaries, he could not take a hint and he was a horrible dancer (again I was the one air-guitarring so maybe I really am the girl version of James.. Yikes!).

Jim on the other hand was subtly handsome (totally a compliment, trust me) and invitingly mysterious behind his dark-framed glasses.  He was charming, friendly and seemingly soft-spoken but he clearly knew how to have a good time with his friends.  At first I thought nothing more except that he was cute and he was a closet party boy.  In our initial conversation he mentioned he almost chose to go to my Alma Mater for college over his Ivy League because of the hyped-up party scene.  #priorities but hey, who doesn’t love a good keg-stand now and then?

Anyway, I continue to enjoy my night while trying to make sure Jim is in view for potential moments to be had.  Eventually, I noticed that what I thought was possibly my shadow from the awkward lighting of the bar was actually James creepily haunting me.  I kid you not, he looked like a lion about to pounce and all I could think of doing was dancing as crazy as possible so I could shimmy all the way to the other side of the dance floor back to safety.

Eventually our male friend points out that I really should just make a move with Jim because he clearly is on the shy side of this game but I still need more time. I decide to hit the ladies room (which ended up being multiple co-ed bathrooms along a wall) and what do you know, Jim is also waiting for his turn in the loo.  We make small talk over deciphering if the bathrooms really are all occupied because a closed door could totally be misleading in this scenario (somehow this detail seems foreshadowing).  I then proceed to kick the doors, if I remember correctly.  Yes, I did. I lightly kicked them instead of knocking like a civilized human being but whatever, he kind of laughed… I think?

After I use the facilities and drunkenly attempt to clip my crotch-snap onesie top in record time (total fail) I make my way back to the corner of the bar where “my” people are.  I immediately notice that Jim has put on his coat and looks like he is about to start making his round of farewells and I think to myself… you can’t let him leave yet. So I walk up to him and say “you can’t leave yet” in a very obvious yet convincing manner.  He obliges and I respond in disbelief, “Really? That’s all it took?” He just smiles and admits that he really doesn’t know where they are headed to next but he is fine staying, too. I prance away proud as can be of my persuasive prowess only to realize that I still have not accomplished much of anything at this point.

It’s a bit later in the night and both of my friends are egging me on to just dance with him at least in hopes that my brave initiative will lead to more. So I do. Kind of.  I dare Jim to dance in this middle-school-style dance circle his friends have now formed and he accepts only if I dance with the one guy who has been rocking the dance floor and his gorgeous brunette locks all night. So of course, without hesitation, I mildly twerk on his friend only to realize that now Jim has made his way over to also dance with this guy. First thought, “Is he gay?” Second thought, “Is he trying to shake me off?” So I pull back and just brush it off like it ain’t no thang even though inside I am calculating every step and overanalyzing every word, like we do.

At this point I am starting to lose faith in my fading ability to flirt so I just stick to dancing with my friends while enjoying the site of sprinkler arms and booty poppin’ in the circle I just vacated. I then notice our male friend pull Jim to the side to whisper (more like yell) something in his ear. They speak briefly and then we are instructed to grab our coats because we are leaving.  All of this happened in maybe two minutes and I have absolutely no idea what to think of it. So I try not to make sense of it until we are walking away and all I can hear is “that guy is an asshole. Let’s go.” I am guessing my girl friend was also wondering what just happened.

We make our quick escape and get into our Uber which was conveniently waiting outside.  Apparently we were leaving anyway at this point.  And I politely demand an explanation which I then regret asking for.  Apparently said male friend mentioned to Jim that I was into him and that he should really make a move. Jim then responds with a snug “Noted. Thanks.” or something to that effect.  After attempting to wash away the rejection with a whiskey sour (or half of one I could choke down) my friend decides it’s time to head home because I clearly cannot get my leaky eyes under control.  Within the next 15 hours I drunkenly, and then soberly, tell anyone who listen to my story to see if they can shed rays of dignity raising light on really what happened because I was, and still kind of am, not sure what to make of it.

The responses:

1. a) Jim’s gay
2. b) Jim was trying to be a good friend to James who clearly showed interest in me from the start
3. c) Jim was trying to be a gentleman because I was obviously too drunk for anything to happen the right way (barf)
4. d) Jim really just was not that into me.

While I sit here and type this I must admit that although it was horrifyingly embarrassing to “get rejected” on one of the only nights I will go out this month, it’s really not the end of the world. And even though this fella Jim was my type to a T, this isn’t the end of dating or going out for me either.  Sure it is hard to meet guys in a place like NYC where everyone is always looking for the most attractive person to go home with, but is that really what I want? Not quite.

I want someone who will one day write in a birthday card, “To my best friend, my wife, my life, Happy Birthday! I love you!” So for now, Jim and all of the other unfortunately intelligent frat-stars of my generation, can be jealous of my well-rehearsed air-guitar skills and my newfound determination to enjoy my last few months in this inaccurately glorified concrete jungle.