love the one you’re with

Although the classic Buffalo Springfield song is ostensibly is about embracing the opportunity of a relationship you can actually be in—i.e. settling—its title implies a different perspective to yours truly. For if there’s a lesson many women need to learn desperately is that you can’t change a guy. At least not permanently; that level of resentment will eventually rise to the surface one day and chances are it won’t be pretty when it happens. Men are not like that cuddly puppy or cat you can train to your liking—at least not in most instances—and then reap the rewards of your efforts. No, that shit will bite you on your lovely posterior. And hard. Seriously.

You can always take that gamble if you so prefer, of course. But, good luck with that.

i wanna be your dog

This is a first, folks: Mr. Alex Zola of The Zola System, chimes in with a doozy of a guest post, titled "Her Dog Wanted Me More than She Did"

After months of getting nowhere with Jamie, I began to wonder if she was really interested in me or was trying to set her Chihuahua Oscar up with my leg. Talk about your bait-and-switch con!

Jamie never went anywhere without Oscar; and, of course, he was with her with her the first time she came into my bar. When I reached out to pet him, Oscar jumped out of her bag and gummed the cuff of my pants. As he humped my leg, Jamie apologized, but she didn’t try to stop him.

Blonde and skinny, Jamie wore the fashion model red lipstick of the moment. Born in the West Village, she grew up in the Hell’s Kitchen and the Bronx. But she’d taught herself to speak with a perfect midwestern accent. “I used to walk home from school everyday saying “girl’ and ” New York ‘ properly so I wouldn’t sound like some trashy Brooklyn girl.”

On our first date, Jamie, a vegetarian, chose dinner at a steakhouse because she loved their whole live lobsters. Thinking this was an important date in our burgeoning relationship, I wore a suit and tie. Jamie came in red flannel p.j.’s and brought Oscar.

There was no sex between me and Jamie, only the implied promise of sex to come, but Oscar had my leg. Shortly after that, she left New York City.

“My whole life is wrapped up in memories of this town. It hurts to be here,” she explained; and I was attracted to her melancholy.

The next time I heard from her, six months later, she was living in Seattle, working for a law firm, missing New York and on her way back. She said she couldn’t wait to see me and wanted me to meet her at the airport. I was there with flowers and champagne. We did not have sex that night. A month later, she had to leave New York again, for San Diego this time, because memories of her late mother were weighing her down. Oscar nipped at the cuffs of my pants.

Nine months later - she came back to the city and went from the airport to the bar I was working to see me. Every the optimist, I made a date with her. She left Oscar at home and said, “I’m going to stay in New York, no matter how depressed I get.”

One night we lay on the bed, her arms crossed in front of her breasts. I tried to cuddle up to her but she wasn’t having any of it. Oscar saw me and started in on the cuffs of my jeans. It was his idea of foreplay.

“Do you think chocolate brown is a good color for that wall?” She asked me.

“Sure.” I said.

Oscar was on my leg. I tried to shake him off. He gummed me again and kept rubbing my leg.

“Will you help me paint it?” she asked, picking Oscar up and taking him off the bed. I took this as a hopeful sign.

“Sure I will.” I said.

Oscar bounded back into the room and went straight for my leg. I shook it hard but I couldn’t budge him. Finally, I stood up and pushed Oscar off me.

I never saw either one of them again.

3 is a magic number (sorta)

After a bit of a dry spell, things have been looking up, somewhat: This past weekend I made out with 2 separate ladies at my local watering hole. The first, on Friday, was Katie; a short, full-figured actress with the face of an angel, who lives close to the bar and who I'd never met before. The following night it was Carrie, a cute waitress who is so my type: tall, thin, nice boobs and hips; "shaped like a woman", indeed. Carrie also lives nearby. I'd seen her before and wanted to meet her but the opportunity had not materialized. That all changed Saturday night when she hit on me and asked to run her fingers thru my hair. Always a good sign. (Btw, the tongue wrestling was done outside during smoke breaks each time. At the bar is a bit of a no-no. Can't be that guy too often, you know?)

All of this is well and good but I'm too old to be just making it out with 20 somethings. Some fucking is in order, right?

But I also bumped into Daisy, a chick with whom the mutual hots for each other had been evident in the past, but there was a boyfriend at the time. I hadn't seen Daisy in about 6 months but she was at the bar Friday night, having ditched the bf, some weight, and the "meh" hairdo. Obviously, I pounced in no uncertain terms. But I suspect Daisy is enjoying and taking advantage of being single and a little more attractive to the opposite sex a little too much: I could be wrong, but while she was receptive to my advances--and we made tentative plans--she gave off a "yeah, now that I'm in play, I think I'm gonna be a bit pickier" kinda vibe. Whatever. Hmm...

Things seem to be looking up, but as a good buddy said, "These are birds in the bush, and you need to get their bush in your hand." Amen, brother.

stop me if you've heard this one before (part deux)

On a whim, and after deciding I had nothing to lose, I finally contacted Irene, who'd I'd met thru a couple of mutual friends last summer. We hit it off and went on what turned out to be a great date a week later. One in which she repeatedly mentioned the following:

a) how glad she was that I contacted her (t'was originally via Facebook)
b) how glad she was that I asked her out
c) how much she enjoyed the date

I walked her home afterwards and along the way Irene informs me she's just getting out of a relationship and wants to take things slow, but tells me to call her and ask her out again. An hour later on FB she thanks me again for "a great night".

A couple of days after the date I send her an e-mail, letting her know that I'll be asking her out again and reminding her of my upcoming birthday party.

Nothing.

B-day party.
Nothing.

Give her a call the following day.
Nothing.

Then, on my actual b-day....
Nothing.

I was a bit unsettled by the radio silence from someone who had profusely mentioned how much they'd enjoyed my approaching them, our subsequent date, and wanting to see me again. I started to believe in the possibility of our female mutual friend--a clingy, possessive nutjob, with whom I had an incredibly brief hookup, some 5 years ago and not since--having said something to scare Irene off. This was the bullshit I was dreading.

When I finally hear from Irene, two days after my unanswered phone call, she emails her belated birthday wishes, apologies for missing the party and brings up a work-related situation that allegedly screwed up her schedule. She then mentions preparing to leave town for a family reunion but asks if we can see each other when she returns.

One the one hand I'm relieved no one has poisoned the well--which makes me feel slightly guilty about thinking our mutual friend might've been conspiring against me--but I'm a bit turned off by Irene's nonchalance.

I suspect she's playing hard to get. This is NYC, but NO ONE is so busy that they can't call, email or message someone who's courting them, considering the circumstances. Especially not Irene, in her "pretty stress-free" job. We all know that when women want to, they're all over you. So, the way I see it, she knows I'm interested. And since her radio silence has now earned her a bit of my own, this will happen between us if I hear from her. Otherwise, good luck out there. Not chasin' after her; ain't no lapdog. Let her make the next move and then we'll see.

In the meantime, I'll put romantic endeavors on hold and lean towards just getting some ass, especially in light of recent developments. As we all know this will likely lead towards the occasional weird situation, including making the wrong phone call and sleeping with a girl who's clearly not the best candidate, but I don't have to believe, trust, and/or have faith in them. So, there's that.

Despite being a bit tired of just hooking up and doing the dance that goes with making it happen, a relationship is not much of an option when you lack much faith in finding the woman that would make that situation worthwhile, due to all the clunkers I've encountered out there. And I guess that's the reason why I choose to remain single.

(I did have a drunken little tryst with a girl named Annie who I met at the tail-end of my party. But that, once again, is literally another story.)

stop me if you've heard this one before

I met Katherine a few weekends ago--where else?--at my fave neighborhood watering hole. A 41 year old, stunningly cute, blue-eyed blonde, she caught my eye as I walked in and saw her hanging with 2 mutual acquaintances which I immediately joined.

A few jokes later, we got deep into romantic talk, eventually went outside to share a smoke and a few sweet kisses, and made plans for a date during the week. Katherine and I spent the rest of the evening joined at the hip and pretty much smitten with each other. At one point, while outside sharing another cigarette, she mentioned how there was a stupid Aqua song she couldn't get out of her head. Being the silly romantic I am, I took her in my arms and we slow danced while I sang The Beatles' "I Will" in her ear. Needless to say, major points were scored and I was duly informed as much.

She e-mailed me from the bar, so that I would have her address. I replied and a few days later "friended" her on Facebook, which she accepted but did not reply to otherwise. A day or two afterwards I e-mailed but didn't hear back from her. Hmm...
The day before our purported date I e-mailed to ask if we were still on. Again, no response from Katherine. OK, so she had a change of heart, I assumed. It happens. Wasn't the first time and probably not the last. I was bummed out but them's the breaks.

Two weeks after our fateful encounter, I'm sitting at the same bar we met. It was 3 AM and almost empty when Katherine walked in with 2 friends. My back was turned to the door, but the bartender--a friend of mine who knew the story--saw and discreetly relayed to me her shocked look as she registered my presence. So, did Katherine come over with an apology or a feeble attempt at one? Nope. She actually--get this--sat about 5 feet away, facing me diagonally across the corner of the bar and completely ignored me. Yes, boys and girls, that's how she chose to play it.

I did notice she was uncomfortable so I decided to do nothing and let her squirm. I wasn't about to call her out and give her the ammo to assuage her guilt. However, letting her off scot-free was not an option, so in order to make her acknowledge me I went outside to smoke a few minutes after Katherine and her friend did the same. (The second friend had already left by then.) I positioned myself right in front of the bar's front door, which meant I'd have to step aside for them to re-enter the premises. When they were done and approached me I moved slightly out of the way. The friend went first, smiled and said hi. And Katherine, as if nothing had happened, did exactly the same. Wow. I did or said nothing further and they both left a drink later.

We've all had nights of drunken romantic interactions of varying degrees which we regret the following day. All the time. But when I've been on the business end of 'em I've always gotten an e-mail with some variation of "thanks, but no thanks". Hey, that's just how it goes. No need for sour grapes. But for a woman in her 40s to behave in the tacky manner in which Katherine did is just inexcusable and very bad form for someone her age. Seriously. Next.

maria

Here's an interesting twist: Maria--about whose unrequited love for her I posted here--ended up having a brief romance over the past summer with yours truly. Of course, this came to pass long after I'd lost all interest in a relationship with her. Why am I not surprised?

In any event, we had a purportedly no-strings attached liaison which got complicated. How so? Well, for starters Maria is in the midst of divorcing her loser stalker husband--they've been separated for a bout a year now--who is certifiably insane, btw. (Which meant keeping our hookups on the DL.) AND, despite my being perfectly clear about the nature of our relationship (the much-maligned "friends with benefits") she clearly had strong feelings for me which she managed to conceal not too well. (Maria denied having them throughout our fling only to fully own up to 'em when it ended. How predictable.) Then, there was the VERY heavy drinking on her part, which made it a major hassle to be with her when she wasn't sober; her rather selfish displays of annoyance on the very few times (twice) in which I said no or had a time limit to seeing each other due to prior commitments; and a pregnancy scare which turned ugly, despite our initial and mutual agreement as to how we'd proceed if she was in fact pregnant.

The latter prompted me to end our dalliance. But she begged me to reconsider--and your boy being weak when it comes to a satisfying and regularly-scheduled lay--I acquiesced. Only to have her end things unilaterally a few weeks later. I guess she had to have the last word, huh? So I was surprised and hopeful for some more carnal fun when a short time later she adamantly insisted on invting herself over to my apartment for dinner. I cooked a nice meal, plied her with drinks and...had blue balls for dessert. Good grief! (At least she did the dishes.)

Since then, I've bumped into Maria in the 'hood every so often but not with much frequency, thankfully. And despite my politeness towards her on those occasions, I am none too thrilled when that happens. Especially when I was dateless this past New Year's Eve and she came into my fave bar where I wasn't expecting see her. Ugh. We exchanged pleasantries and a bit of small talk but needless to say, nothing happened between us. Maybe that was a good sign for the new year. After all, as the song says, "recycled hearts are a fruitless farce", right?

both sides now

Ron:
“So I’m catching up with this chick I know from back in the day and she tells me she recently broke up with some dude. It turns out the guy got his ex-girlfriend pregnant, which my friend found out just before she was going to meet his parents. Man, it's not only guys who have it rough...the ladies struggle too.”

Me:
“Well, the ladies always struggle with the myriad of douche-bags and clueless idiots out there. But they are frequently under the impression that it's not a two-way street. A while back a female friend told me that my love life has opened her eyes to this fact: she used to think that, most of the time, it was just us guys screwing up. Now, she knows better.

Obviously, I don't know your friend but I wouldn't be surprised if she still has feelings for that dude. If that makes me sexist, cynical, jaded, etc. I'm fine with that. But nice guys rarely have the luxury of having women still pining for them when they make a mistake.
And yes, I said mistake; not a fuck up like the guy in the story.”

the alarm

“You say your divorce hasn’t affected you but I think you’re in denial. I mean, how is it that a romantic guy, who loves women,
and has no problem meeting or talking to them, has been single for almost a decade and just sleeping his way through Brooklyn?”

I think he pretty much nailed it. Fuck.

welcome to my nightmare

Someone recently mentioned watching a reality show in which some chick, while lying in bed, longingly gazes at a picture of her boyfriend from back home. She then turns and asks the dude she's been banging for a while, "Am I a bad girlfriend?"

That's it. Right there.

kids in america

For quite a few years I was surrounded by people who approached having children with same emotional commitment of taking a vacation: "Can we afford it?" "Will it interfere w/our lifestyle?" Ugh. Thankfully, I'm coming across this scenario less and less.

Yes, having kids is a huge deal financially, emotionally, etc. But I'd rather see poor people who really want to make the effort to have a family do so, as opposed to the financially stable having kids as some sort of social accoutrement. As far as I can tell, the latter leads to more fucked-in-the-head people, and don't we have enough of those already? Hell, I seem to date/hook up w/them all the time.