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!

so cruel (in a biblical way)

Regardless of whether you believe the Genesis story of Adam and Eve is allegory, fact, or fiction, we can all admit to the effectiveness of its establishing the 'woman as evil temptress' motif. I was recently reminded of an incident from a few years back that confirms how this theme continues to manifest itself to this day.

Now, let me ask, what do you do when your buddy’s sexy lady friend openly flirts with you and makes a habit of stopping by your place, unannounced, cigarettes and bottle of wine in tow? You do the right thing and brush it off and go on your way, is what.

But.

What if you know he’s been cheating on her; that he’s been looking for a way out of the relationship; that you may be buddies but he's not a close friend? Did I mention she’s sweet, affectionate, incredibly sexy and just your type? What about it then?

Once again, you do the right thing and brush it off and go on your way.

But.

Oh, man. Why?!

Matthew 26:41: Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

So true. So cruel.

sledgehammer

Talk about late bloomer: it wasn't until my mid-30s that I understood what "Show me 'round your fruit cage / and I will be your honey bee" really meant. Loser. I've made up for it, sure. And so, tonight, with Peter Gabriel's classic tune burrowing through my consciousness, I contemplated going out for the specific purpose of getting laid and honoring the spirit of this particular song. But, for no reason I could put my finger on, I calmly rethought things and decided to stay in, despite the nagging impulses of my raging libido. Didn't pick up the phone and make any ill-advised calls, either, although thoughts of a nice little romp with certain toxic avengers of the female persuasion still dance in my head...

Dunno if I should be proud of myself, but it's something, right?

Anyway...

time (clock of the heart)

It's always a mystery to me why two people that should clearly hook up never get around to, or why it takes such a long time for them to eventually do so, when all the conditions for their carnal rendezvous are seemingly within reach. Timing is everything, indeed.

Case in point: Lisa is a girl I've known for a few years. Despite our tongues being intertwined within the span of a few drinks on the very first night we met--and subsequently going out on a date or two--nothing ever came of it. In the interim, she'd dated some doofus for 2 years--a fact which, truth be told, made her significantly less attractive to me--but after that dude was out of the picture, lust and unfinished business between us began to nudge me once again in her direction. It was a fruitless task, however.

Until now.

So, at 3:30 AM with thoughts of some last minute hookup with a friendly partner clouding my judgement as usual, I bumped into Lisa at her fave bar late Saturday night and decided to shower her with my slightly drunken charm. She was sitting with some mutual friends and their guests but when they left shortly thereafter, I went over and made my move. It did not take long to have it bear results. But I had one minor obstacle to overcome.

"It's late. I've gotta go."

"Really? I was hoping you'd stay."

[This is the part of the exchange where the woman will give a reason why she has to leave.
But if she doesn't offer up any and instead asks...]

"Why?"

[...you are sooo in.]

"Because I've missed you and I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you."

"OK. Let me get my purse and I'll come sit with you."

A little kissing and drinking later we are back at my place pretty much doing what we should've been ages ago. This became especially true to me when I got to gaze at that yummy body, delicious breasts, and those luscious thighs that invitingly lead to the promised land.

But the best thing is, the next day, she didn't want to leave and I didn't want her to go. When was the last time that happened? Hmm...

I don't want to be her boyfriend, though.

people are strange

Friday night I'm hanging with a couple of friends at one of my fave bars when I bump into Jane, a young singer/songwriter who I've had a thing for that dates back a few years. She's sitting at the corner of the bar, with her glasses on, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a wifebeater and sweatpants. And even in this decidedly drab attire she looks absolutely gorgeous. Jane has blossomed over the years from a cute girl to a beautiful young woman. The transformation has been stunning to watch.

Jane greets me warmly and tells me she's grateful that I showed up just then since a dude not of her liking has been making a rather feeble, yet annoying attempt to chat her up. Jane is trying not to be mean, but she's clearly not interested. You'd think her body language and demeanor would give this guy a clue. No dice.

After the clueless guy eventually figures it out and disappears, Jane and I continue to chat for a bit and the sweet, affectionate side of her personality that is so endearing to me shines throughout our brief time at the bar. She excuses herself due to having classes early the next morning and leaves me with a heartfelt hug and a mild case of longing and what ifs. Ah, Jane...

My buddies and I are engaged in conversation when a cute 30-something sitting across from us, and accompanied by two guys, flashes me a nice smile which I reciprocate. She then proceeds to introduce herself and her companions, one of which happens to be her boyfriend. OK...

They seem nice enough and we end up talking at length about music. We've hit it off and eventually the friend offers to buy me a drink, which I accept. I later excuse myself to go out for a smoke and Theresa asks if she can join me. OK...

After bumping into an old Brooklyn but now living upstate acquaintance of mine named Monica while outside, Theresa and I head back into the bar and I resume the conversation with my own friends. We soon after decide to leave and hit another neighborhood joint.
As I'm saying my goodbyes to Theresa and her friend--the boyfriend had temporarily disappeared--she starts caressing my face (!) and telling me how much she loves my facial hair. The friend, meanwhile, is not fazed one bit by this. Hmm...

"You must have a good woman who loves you," Theresa says, while her hands are still resting on my face.

"Actually, I don't. But I do alright. Do you have any friends you can introduce me to?"

"You should give me your card."

"She is good to know," chimes in the seemingly unsurprised friend.

And against my better judgement I grab a napkin from the bar which I give to Theresa
bearing my e-mail and phone number and walk out behind my friends.

Now, granted, Theresa was visibly tipsy but I know how uncomfortable I'd be with my significant other openly flirting with some guy. And one we've just met, at that. I'm also pretty sure my buddies would not take kindly to her doing so in front of them, especially if I wasn't around. Maybe Theresa and her beau have an open relationship. Maybe he's the super non-jealous type. Maybe none of this means more than some friendly interaction under the influence. Still...

time is on my side (for now)

I’m bored and feeling something similar to “cabin fever” when I decide to venture out for a drink
on a recent Thursday night. Cursing the heavy rain and wondering if I should’ve stayed home,
I make it to my corner bar where, unbeknownst to me, I was to encounter a ray of sunshine.

Shortly after ordering my first drink, I’m approached by a cute girl who sits next to me
and introduces herself. Beth is new to the neighborhood and is ecstatically telling me
about the great deal she got on her new apt, when I jokingly call her a liar.

"Honey, you're too cute for me to lie to."

And we’re off.

Before long we’re making out, rubbing up on each other. Beth is making weekend plans for us,
asking to be sent romantic emails, and pleading with me not to tempt her into going home together.
I'm on a roll.

Finally, around 3:30 AM she decides to leave and have an old college buddy
she was hanging out with walk her home. The seed had been planted.

Or so I thought.

The following day she responds to the nice email I sent her with this:

"Great meeting you last night as well and thanks for the sweet e-mail.
I gotta say though...after thinking things through with a clearer head
I am quite reticent about the age difference (and to be perfectly honest
am just not ready yet for lovers/dating/romantic notions). I am, however,
totally down for a neighborhood friendship. So sorry to be wishy washy."

What a clown.

All I could respond was, "Ask yourself one question: Before you knew the age difference, did it matter to you?"

I’m not interested in any platonic-type relationship, so that’s that, I guess.

This latest scenario is making me rethink being honest about my age when courting 20-something girls.
Luckily, by not looking my age I can fake being ten years younger, so I guess I will. The age difference has
rarely been an issue with girls younger than me by 15 years or so—I’m currently hooking up with a girl
who’s 26, the same age as Beth—but hey, if it’s gonna prevent me from getting laid…

And the saga continues…