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!

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.