birthday

A couple of years ago I had a steady DJ gig in a couple of neighborhood bars on the weekends. One gig was Saturdays--and occasionally Fridays--at a now defunct lounge called Edessa; Sundays my bartender friend Ron and I did 'Delicious Sundays' at Bar 4.

At the time one of my New Year's resolutions was to shake things up a bit, so I started with that annual debauchery fest known as my birthday celebration. That year I had not one but two in one weekend. After all, it was going to be a working birthday. On Saturday I had the party at Edessa and on Sunday--my actual b-day--the festivities were a bit more low key and took place at my regular 'Delicious Sundays' night at Bar 4. Here's how it went down:

My old friend and former co-worker Mike and his girlfriend were the first of my people to arrive at Edessa. I was talking to them at the edge of the bar when I happened to look straight ahead to the front door. Just outside I saw that rare and unmistakable coat. Immediately I knew it was her.

"Here comes trouble", I said to Mike.
"What kind of trouble?"
"The female kind."

She made her way through the bar and to the back where the DJ station was located. Let me tell you, her big smile was no match for the dimly lit bar.

"Happy Birthday. I miss you."

And with that, Tina made her appearance at my birthday party.

She was a 33 year-old grad student who'd taken me on a ride on crazy, dating rollercoaster for a bit. Two weeks after our last encounter at Bar 4--when we decided not to see each other anymore due to Tina being an emotional mess--she showed up early for the festivities and ended up being one of the last to leave.

A short time after she showed up we made plans to go out for a smoke. I was slightly delayed so she went ahead and offered to chain smoke so that she could be with me when I finally made it out there. While having that initial smoke together she asked if I was surprised.

"About what?"
"Don't be coy", she said.
"Well if you're referring to you being here, I'm pleasantly surprised."

That's what she wanted to hear, of course. But it was true.

Anyway, as it turned out, it was a slow night for Edessa so my 25-plus guests made up about 75% of the crowd. Raquel, the bartender, made it a point to tell the owner that I saved her ass and consequently the bar as well. Not to mention the fact that she was a huge fan of my DJ prowess. They were loving me that night, let me tell you.

Since I was obviously working I couldn't dedicate enough time as I'd wanted to my guests. For Tina that meant dividing her time between myself and the friends of mine with whom she hit it off, particularly Mr. S. He was a big hit with her. And the feeling, I later found out, was mutual.

I had a great time. I also had quite a few, if you know what I mean. Which is why Tina and I ended up slow dancing and kissing at the end of the night. Yes, I know. More drama. I don't remember exactly how it went down but after telling me how touched she was that I introduced her to my friends and how cool they were, she mentioned again how much she'd missed me, etc.

"I don't want to talk about this right now, because it's not the time or place, and I've obviously had a few. But you and I could be very happy together."

There I go again.

She agreed that we should talk about it some other time. And yes, I must be a masochist. Sure, I'd stayed away from her. No calls, no e-mails. (I did send her an Evite for the birthday bashes, however.) And it was all good. But she shows up at my birthday party and the first thing out of her mouth is 'I miss you.' I don't fall for crap all that easily but Tina knew how to get to me. Grrr.

I wanted her to miss me. Well, it looked like she had. Ultimately, Tina and I had the big conversation a couple of days later when we were both sober, and I went in for the kill. I should've kept my distance.

A few months after that she booty called me at 2 AM on a weeknight--I had to be at my new job in the morning--and, already disillusioned with her flaky nonsense, I turned her down. It was for the best, and aside from the fact I was getting laid pretty frequently at the time, I do regret not taking her up on the booty that night, though.

+ + + + +

Sunday at Bar 4 was mellow. I got there at 11:15 PM instead of my usual 10 PM. It was a grueling day: I got to bed at 4 AM woke up at two hours later to be in DC for a funeral. Mrs. J, wife of a dear friend, had passed away from cancer the week prior.

My buddy Fernando was slightly buzzed when I got to the bar. Sans boyfriend, Lilian--who once confessed her lust for me, late into at a party at my place just months prior, by stating 'If I don't leave now, I'm going to stay'--showed up carrying a Greek dessert with a candle. Literally, very sweet.

"Make a wish", she said.

We all know what it was, right?

An old music biz acquaintance, followed by a few other friends also joined in. We had a nice time, but everybody left early so I wrapped it up at 2 AM. Fernando had been at another bar in the 'hood earlier in the evening and mentioned that Alan, their Sunday night bartender had asked us to come over if we got done early at Bar 4. We had, so we did.

When we got there Fernando and I each ordered a drink and discussed leaving right after. Yeah, right. I departed at 5 AM leaving Fernando behind. And he had to be at work at 9 AM. Of course there was a girl involved.

Shortly after we arrived, Helen showed up. She was a tall, brainy, sexy chick I'd met at the same bar over a year and a half ago prior. We exchanged e-mails but nothing more. Some time after that I bumped into her again and she ended up going home with Ron that night. Business as usual. After that I asked her out--she and Ron only had a one night stand--but no dice. When she walked in that Sunday night I hadn't seen her since the previous summer. In any event, I sat with Helen and we caught up. Later Fernando joined us and they sort of hit it off. She's hard to read sometimes.

Fernando asked for my permission to pursue her and I acceded. After all, I didn't perceive any difference in her attitude towards me and at that point I was too tired, anyway. Helen did buy me a couple of drinks and offered me her cigarettes on account of my birthday. And when she asked if I'd gotten a birthday cake and I replied not really, she took a Cheeto from a bag she'd been eating, put a match in it and lit it as a candle for me to blow out. Who new she had a soft spot?

All in all, it was a good 39th birthday. Yes, indeed. I was hoping to find the time to sleep. And dream.

the crying game

About a little over a month ago, I met and became friendly with Reese, a cute chick who wears the non-straight uniform—i.e., looks like a lesbian—and asked Mark, at whose bar this chick and I met, what her story was. Just in case the boyish haircut was just that. I took his “I’ve seen her leave here with dudes” response to mean she was straight or bi, so the next time we bumped into each other at the bar
I wasted no time in candidly inviting her to come home with me.

It turns out my Mark’s gaydar was off.

Reese accepted but made it clear she was gay and graciously gave me an out by letting me know she would not be offended if I chose to rescinded my invite. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to make that decision given that we hung out a bit too late at the bar that night.
And at that point all parties felt like sleep in one's own bed was the lone, logical choice, anyway. (I have since found out she used to date men, but I get the feeling one big heartbreak she told me about may have made her re-think her sexual orientation. Whatever…)

Unfortunately, Reese has now become an unwanted bar buddy, due to the fact that after a few drinks she gets a bit antagonistic with me or anyone else I might be hanging with. Not to mention how she brings up EVERY SINGLE TIME how her parents neglected her as a child. It’s not like we’re old friends for her to make me and/or my friends into her personal analysts. Ugh.

Now, I have to shake off a chick who's not going to have sex with me; who I shouldn't have been chatting up in the first place.

Damn, it sucks to be me sometimes.

love and marriage

My dear friend Mr. S once told me people don’t necessarily get married when they find the right person, but instead,
once they’ve decided to get married, they generally get hitched to the next person they have a serious relationship with.

Guilty, as charged.

You see, I did exactly as Mr. S postulates and married the wrong woman. I don’t say that out of spite, but from the knowledge
that I adopted the ‘marry-the-one-who-annoys-you-the-least’ approach. Why? Because I didn’t think “the one” existed.
I believed that finding the ideal person was akin to winning the lottery. And so, I settled and ultimately paid for making such a
callous decision with a selfish, vengeful mate.

I’ve since had the pleasure of meeting and involving myself with a few incredible women that have disproved my original theory regarding matrimony. For various reasons that could not be helped these relationships did not progress in the way that
myself or these wonderful women would’ve hoped. But it changed my previous outlook on love and relationships. It also gave me hope.

Of course, I haven’t met anyone of that caliber in years, so…

cheap trick

The very first date Sonia, my last girlfriend, and I went on was dinner at a Jamaican restaurant in Boerum Hill. It was a nice enough meal, but not too expensive. However, when the check arrived she made no effort whatsoever to contribute to it. It was a first date, and I like to be gracious, especially with someone I was trying to woo. So, gentleman that I am, I made no allusion to it and let it slide.
But somehow it stuck with me.

As the relationship progressed I began to notice how, um, aggressively “economical” Sonia was regarding matters of money.
(Trust me, I could go on, but that would require an entire, separate post.) And yes, it bothered me. But one trip to the movies really clinched it, in my book.

At the time I wasn’t doing too well financially so we always tried to find cheap scenarios for our entertainment. In those days, the Virgin Megastore in Times Square—RIP—had a movie theatre, which showed second-run movies for $5, so it was a logical choice.
One Saturday evening, we got there cutting it close to showtime, so one of us got in line at the ticket window, while the other did the same at an ATM-type ticket dispensing unit right across from it. I don’t recall which one of us was on what line but Sonia eventually got the tickets before I did; we dashed inside and managed to catch the last preview before our intended film.

As we’re walking home afterwards, she non-chalantly states, “Hey, since I got the tickets for the movie, you owe me $5.”

Huh?!

I was dumbfounded, but I immediately regained my composure and upset that she would bring up such a thing, when it was always a split check or I would pay whenever we went out, despite the fact that I was barely making any money and Sonia had a cushy office job with a hefty pay check, I brought back the early restaurant scenario with a vengeance.

“Remember that time we went to dinner at that Jamaican place and you did not make even a feeble attempt to share the check?
Well, I think I have you more than covered for this.”

I mean, I should’ve known: this was a woman who would come over to watch her favorite cable shows—she wouldn’t pay for the service over at her place, which btw, she only went to about 5 days a month, since she was at my apartment ALL THE TIME—and then give me grief for spending money on cable. It’s like someone bumming a cigarette from you and then chastising you for smoking. What kind of bullshit was that?! We broke up not too long after the movie incident.

Recently, Sonia came up in a conversation with an old friend of hers I “inherited” via our relationship, and whom I remain good friends with. (I don’t speak to my ex. Haven’t in years. Not my style.) It turns out that Sonia now lives in Manhattan, where she found herself a sugar daddy and has assumed a materialistic, Sex and the City-type existence, excising from her life all past friends who don’t fit her new lifestyle, including our once mutual friend.

Can someone tell me how the fuck I fell in love with this girl?

wake me when it's over

While out doing some food shopping last week I bumped into my neighbor Jenny at the supermarket. I was genuinely surprised to hear her say that our mutual friend, former neighbor and long-standing object of my affection, Christina, had been in town for a few days.
I was bummed that she’d come out to Brooklyn and not gotten in touch, but my last reunion with Christina was bittersweet, to say the least.

OK, here’s the back story:

Years ago, Christina had been a bartender in our neighborhood. I'd been checking her out for a bit but we finally met when I helped her get rid of an obnoxious drunk who was being a nuisance at her bar one night. From there on in we became fast friends and eventually discovered a nice chemistry between us. Unfortunately, our timing was always off: we were never single at the same time and it remained that way until she left NY a short time afterwards.

One night, out of the blue, she calls to say she’s gonna be in town for the next couple of days and makes it perfectly clear I’m one of the main reasons for her trip. I was clearly excited at the prospect of seeing Christina after a couple of years, and the fact that we were both single at the time was just a big plus.

Aside from being a bartender, Christina had played drums in a very popular rock and roll trio before leaving New York, so I knew that someone with as many friends as she did, and who had not been in town for 2 years, would understandably be spread out pretty thin. So, I was prepared to hang out with her Thursday night and not think much of it. But early on that evening we made plans to come back to my place after the hang in Manhattan was done with—and for me to call in sick the following day for part 2—pretty much establishing I was gonna get to sleep with a woman I'd lusted after for 3 long years at that point.

By the time the consorting-with-the-numerous-friends part of the evening came to its conclusion, however, she was a bit drunk,
very emotional (she cried profusely at the sight of Gary, her former roommate/bandmate who had been in a coma when she left and was now to all appearances fine) and obviously erratic. I resigned myself to a fruitless evening.

I got a ride back to Brooklyn with her former roommates and was just gonna go home when she dragged me back to their place.
She had some food and was a little less drunk, but I still decided to go home anyway. I was putting her to bed when she got naked and pleaded me to do the same and join her in bed. I can be a strong-willed man, but...I just couldn't fight it this time...yeah, we had sex.

Unfortunately, in the midst of it, she freaked out and asked who I was (we had turned off the lights) and as you can imagine it was all down hill from there. I then waited til she fell asleep, got dressed, and left. But her ex-roomies had to let me out which made me feel even worse. (Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma'am! Um, not quite.) But it gets better: I decided to go to work the next day and, of course, Christina calls after I'd left to say she was hoping I'd stayed home and that SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER THE PREVIOUS NIGHT.
(Which might be only partially true: women ABSOLUTELY KNOW if they’ve had sex. But anyway…)

We got together Friday night. She said she remembered bits and pieces of the night before. We talked about having sex that night,
but I couldn't bring myself to ask whether she recalled our previous carnal encounter. (There were too many things that went on for her to completely have blacked out on, but still...) I ended up leaving at about 3 AM. There were friends of hers still there hanging.
She left for Florida the next day. And I haven’t seen or heard from her since.

The sad thing is, I’d been thinking about her these last few days and then I hear she was in town and didn’t even call me.
Jenny mentioned that Christina was quite saddened due to a recent breakup and how that may have contributed to making her trip even more low key. But I would’ve loved seeing her, regardless.

turning japanese

My friend Michelle is a sweetheart. A loving, generous human being who deserves the absolute best, as far as I'm concerned.
Since she moved out to Los Angeles 2 years ago we've become much closer, ironically enough, enjoying the kind of profound,
heartfelt conversations we never could've had when she was here in Brooklyn: in a bad headspace and consequently an often
belligerent and obnoxious drunk.

Yeah, I was in love with her but I knew it would never happen between us. For one thing, I always believed she was hung up on younger, skinny, good-looking, hipster types with a cocaine problem. (Not really, as it turns out.) Also, by then I'd started to tire of taking on a saviour complex. I felt like Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon: "I'm too old for this shit." Sorry, fix your own lives, ladies. You've had a few decades to figure it out.

Last week Michelle calls me from California to catch up and eventually inquire about my lovelife. I tell her about Maria and she gets all excited and starts urging me to pursue her; to put up a fight; and how much women love that. I'm not convinced and explain to her that Maria hasn't really given me any incentive to do anything like that. Finally, after a bit of failed cajoling, she gives up.

"You know what? You're not that into this chick."

"I guess I'm not. I mean she's really fun and sexy and I'd like to date her but I'm not bowled over or anything."

"So is there anyone that like that?"

"How so?"

"I mean, who gets your motor running?"

"No one, lately."

"OK, tell me, who do you immediately think of when you wake up and want to jack-off to?"

[Wow, I guess Michelle and I are that tight, huh?]

"Um, well there's a couple of women who I've recently slept with..."

"No, not chicks you've fucked; women you feel a connection to."

"Honey, besides you, in the last five years there's only been two other women who've made my motor run, as you say.
And since you left it's just been Patty, and you know how that turned out...and why are you giggling? Are you mocking me?"

"No, of course not. It's just that...you...mentioned me in that way..."

"Well, you know I've always been in love with you. From the moment I laid eyes on you at the bar that night."

"You know I love you, too. And I care 'bout you and love to hear your voice."

I bet you're wondering what this last exchange led to, right? I'll tell you: talk of artistic expression, charitable work, and a few other topics. Oh, and how Michele thinks both of us should put out good energy so we can find someone to love and be reciprocated. Um, ok.

So much for Michelle and I. But hey, maybe from here on in I can get her to talk dirty to me.

love the one you're with

Maria is a smart, warm, beautiful South American girl I was recently introduced to by a mutual friend. As you may have guessed, I was immediately captivated by this engaging brunette whose company I've come to enjoy over the last few weeks. You see, in the brief time since we met, we've hung out, had drinks a few times and it has become quite apparent that she is quite taken with me.

As a friend.

It gets better: she happens to have a thing for one of my boys. Which I wouldn't mind one bit--he's a good guy--if not for the fact that he's not even remotely interested in Maria.

Good grief.

the fly

Raven-haired, built-like-a-woman, 30-something beauty walks into my buddy Mark's bar and has me immediately mesmerized. So hot. She makes her way over to greet Mark behind the bar and he introduces me to the lovely and, as it turns out, über-friendly Nina.

We enjoy a lengthy chat and I buy her a drink before she goes back to her friends. Of course, this is the one time I forget to carry a pen with me, but I figure I'll have a chance to do the "digit dance" before the night is done.

Nina graciously sends me a shot of whisky from across the bar, but a short time later finds herself on my end the room when her friends leave and, in the process of saying goodbye, she bumps into Sylvia, who's sitting about 3 people away from me. She decides to stay, and I ask Mark if I can buy Nina another drink.

"Um, do you know that she occasionally fucks Freddie?"

"Your co-worker Freddie?"

"Yup."

This guy gets around; not only does he fool around with the tall, voluptuous Wendy, who I have lusted after from Day 1, but Nina, too?

"Well, I guess she can buy her own beer then."

"I thought you'd feel that way."

I look over at Nina and Sylvia chatting up a storm and ask Mark if the latter knows if my newest object of desire has been fucking her ex-boyfriend.

"Dunno....might be one of those 'keep your enemies closer' scenarios."

In any event, a short time later Nina and Sylvia close up their respective tabs and decide to share a cab together. Of course, that's not the only thing they've been sharing.

the sign (lisa pt.2)

As you may recall, I hooked up with Lisa a very long time after we first met and exchanged saliva and digits. Three weeks later, it looked like a repeat performance was in the cards.

Not quite.

In a déja vu of our previous encounter she once again leaves the bar with me, but en route to my place the alcohol really kicks in and she immediately turns from tipsy to shitfaced without warning. At this point she was useless to me, sexually speaking, so I give up on my hopes for a carnal rendezvous, bring her back to my place and once we get home, take off her shoes and put Lisa to bed fully clothed.

Hours later I wake up and sidling up against her I notice her dress is wet. What the...And then it hits me: yes, Lisa has peed all over herself in her sleep. Fuck.

Disgusted and annoyed, I grab a blanket from the closet and proceed to crash on my living room couch. I wake up at almost 10:30 AM, which is an hour before Lisa has to be at work. I wake her up, she makes some phone calls--including one that, for whatever reason, requires that she lock herself in my bathroom--says goodbye, and leaves.

No apology. Nothing.

YOU JUST PEED ALL OVER MY BED, DAMN IT! WTF?!

A full-on cleanup mission consisting of mattresss airing/turning over and industrial amounts of Febreze is undertaken. Ah, this was obviously not Lionel Ritchie's idea of a Sunday morning.

Maybe this is a sign that I need to put my days of random fucking behind me. It's the clearest one I've gotten so far.

it takes two

While I will readily admit that it’s petty and childish, I can’t help but rejoice when a woman who has blown me off finds herself on the business end of a worse refutation. Ah, it does the heart good if only momentarily. But I'll take it, nonetheless. Here are two particular instances I’d like to share with you:

After enjoying a few casual encounters at my neighborhood bar, I thought we'd hit it off and asked Raquel out. But not only did she gave me the old “I’ll see you when I see you” response to my date query, she additionally mentioned how she was quite particular about who she went out with. Really? Since I considered her not be “all that”, as the kids used to say, I moved on and left it at that.

But one night, while I was out drinking with my buddy Michael, she came over and joined us. Raquel wasted no time in letting it be known how interested she was in hooking up with him, and made her move. To break the ice and further ingratiate herself with Michael she suggested the three of us take a picture in the bar’s photo booth. When Michael promptly shot down the idea, she recoiled and nixed the whole thing right then and there, without even offering to go in the booth with yours truly and save face, leaving her rebuffed intentions clearly out in the open. I was a bit miffed but my displeasure would not last.

When Andy the bartender eventually closed up shop for the night only the four of us remained. Outside, waiting for respective cabs, Raquel offered the by now legless Michael a ride home. “That’s all right”, he replied, heavily slurring his words. “I’ll take the bus.”

That Raquel couldn’t get Michael to go home with her, despite his highly intoxicated state was a small victory for me that night.

+ + + + +

“You must think I’m a bitch for never getting back to you,” Annie says, while temporarily taking a seat next to me at the bar and waiting to be served.

“No, I just figured you weren’t interested in going out on a date with me, that’s all.”

“OK, then. I'm sorry, though.”

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter to myself.

She gets her drink and goes back to the table of co-workers with whom she’s been barhopping all night. I later find out Annie’s had her eye on one of them and in a clear territory-marking move had brazenly sat on the guy’s lap at a previous bar. The dude has given her some of his attention, but there's another cute chick amongst them who seems like she will not be denied. Hmm...

As the night is coming to an end, I notice the co-worker in question and the other cute girl in their party have been MIA for quite a while. Annie has been fidgeting nervously and right after last call, when the music has been turned off, the lights are turned all the way up and the bartender is requesting that everyone leave, the missing couple are still nowhere to be found. Not wanting to leave without either one of them, the rest of the group is just standing there uncomfortably, wondering where the two have gone. Annie is visibly mortified.

After what seems like an interminable wait, the pair in question sheepishly reappear, to the combined relief and annoyance of everyone present, who at this point have been made quite aware, both by their prolonged absence and disheveled appearance, that the two had been hooking up in one of the bar’s bathrooms. As coats are collected and goodbyes are exchanged I glance over to see Annie, embarrassed and humiliated, file out with the rest of her party. It sure made my night. Sweet!