I attended a work Christmas party for Job #2 yesterday evening. It was nice, elegant, fancy even. Everything we as a company, are not. We had rented out a private room at a very nice Italian restaurant feasting on buffet plate after buffet place of the best stuffed shells I have ever had, we drank and we laughed, genuinely having a good time. We had been kicked out of the rented room at 8pm when the party should have ended at 7:00.
Agreeing that it was far too early and we were all much too sober to call it a night, we opted to head over to one of the local pubs for some more drinks and more laughs. Feeling out of place (and not like myself) we entered a small, casual Irish Pub. Me, wearing a backless black sweater, a gray pencil skirt, and black knee-high boots, and many of my coworkers dressed just as “classy” we instantly stood out in a crowd of men and women donning jeans, sweaters, and sneakers. I pretended not to notice how corporate and snobbish we must have appeared to everyone else. (Aside from the three men in suits near the entrance. Whom, I suspected were there on business, or had just finished a meeting of sorts.)
We stood around the bar sharing stories and holiday plans with families. The bartender seemed surprised when we all ordered beer, he even said to me “I almost expected all of the men to order dry martinis and the women, cosmopolitans.”
And I answered with a quick, “Yea, we’re not that type of crowd. We only dress like this when forced, such as the corporate costume party we just came from.”
“Costume party?” He says. I can tell he’s thinking that we’re a little behind for having a Halloween Party and wondering why we all decided to dress similarly. All twenty of us.
“It’s a costume party for us, since 95% of us had to go out and buy something to wear for the Christmas party being that none of really dress this way.” He nods finally understanding what I meant and happily hands me an ice cold Miller High Life in a bottle with a frozen glass, and I just shake my hand at the glass.
“No thanks. I prefer it out of the bottle.” He looked even more surprised.
Having been there for over an hour at this point (and had been drinking for at least five hours beforehand) we’re all getting a little buzzed. Just as I was about to turn to Vicki, a friend of mine, to tell her of the devastatingly handsome man in the suit near the door that I thought she should introduce herself to, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find that man I was just about to mention standing behind me with a glass in one hand and a full beer in the other.
“Dan.” He says as he hands me the MHL.
“Dean.”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t have a name like Tiffany, Stacy, or Mandy. I don’t know why. I just knew it as soon as you walked in the door. Before I forget to mention, I prefer dogs over cats, I’m a baseball fan, I don’t normally dress this stuffy, I’m not married or taken in any way, and I like your ink.” As he points to the medium sized tattoo just between my shoulder blades.
“Good to know. Thanks for the beer by the way.”
“So, what do you do for a living, Dean?”
“Full time office manager and a part time inventory manager.” I hesitate. “And yourself?”
“I work in advertising.”
“Interesting.” At this point, I don’t really know where to take the conversation. So I take the moment of a silence as an opportunity to take a nice, large gulp of my beer and glance around at my friends that I came there with.
“You’re very tough to read, Dean.”
“Really? Why is that?” I ask thinking to myself that I’ve been told this quite often recently.
“I’m not the first person to tell you that, I’m sure. You seem very guarded. I would imagine that if you didn’t want to talk to me at all, you wouldn’t. Because you seem very straight forward. But you also don’t make many attempts to get to know people better, and don’t always like the feeling you get when others try to get to know you.”
“Let me guess, you took some psychology classes in college.”
“Wrong. I never went to college. Nor did I ever see a psychologist, which is what you were thinking next. I am also not related to one. But I like to think that I’m a pretty good judge of character and a master at reading people. But what drew me over to you, other than you’re being stunning, is the fact that I couldn’t sum you up into any words whereas I can usually do that about a person right away. Without even talking to them.”
“So you’re a master at assuming you know people?” It took all of my energy not to roll my eyes at him.
“Ah! As much as you would love to just write me off here and now, you know that you’re still intrigued. And no, I don’t assume. Faces tell everything. More specifically, the eyes. Your eyes on the other hand, are different.”
“You’re not always right; I can assure you of that. And what makes my eyes so different?”
“They are sad. They don’t appear sad, though. There’s a difference. Someone wouldn’t look at you and think that you’ve been crying or you just got some bad news. You have not always been treated the way you should have, you have not necessarily been abandoned, though you do feel that way sometimes. And you will never let go of your past. Intrigued?”
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t given you anything worth looking into yet?”
“Ehh. Not really.” I wasn’t completely lying, but I wasn’t completely telling the truth either.
“Well, I’m a single dad with a three year old son that lives with me full time. I left everyone and everything I know to make a better life for my son. He’s the most important thing in the world to me. I hate my job but it pays me well enough to give him the things that he needs in his life. I don’t generally trust people until I’ve gotten to know them really well. That can take years. I have never been in love, or married. And I want to get to know you better.”
I am usually so quick to dismiss people. And I don’t really know why. But I decided to give him a chance. We may not get married, we may not even date. But to enjoy someone else’s company and get to know people better without passing judgment is a very important part of life. And I think I owed it to Dan and to myself to just let the night play out and see where things went.
We talked about his son and why it is that I am single. I told him why I think I am, and then he gave me his own interpretation as to why I am. We discussed the annoyance of corporate holiday functions and he guessed what my childhood was like. He mentioned numerous times that he can tell I’m smart, though I didn’t say much, and wished to know why it is that I can be so closed sometimes. He wanted to know what he could do to open me up and pick my brain. But I didn’t offer much. Because I just don’t know how to.
We exchanged numbers after almost four hours of talking and telling jokes. And that was enough for me. Because I don’t have any expectations for the future, not in terms of relationships or relationship status.
(Side Note: Dan is very sweet, we have a lot in common, and we’re having drinks on Wednesday night. But as friends. Because neither of us need anything more than that right now.)
I was on the subway. The dreaded F train. I don’t know what it is about the F train, I just never really want to take it. Nevertheless, I was on the F and sitting across from a couple. Now, I know it’s not polite to stare, so I didn’t, even though I love to people watch. I glanced in their direction for what felt like the shortest second known to mankind.
Later I found myself walking through Union Square alone. I was utilizing my photographic memory and recalling just how that couple looked during that moment in time on the F train.
He had thin brown hair that was well past his shoulders. It was straight but somehow messy at the same time. He wore jeans that were tight and ripped in the knees with black Converse sneakers that I haven’t seen on anyone in years. His tee shirt was old, faded, and had the Live logo in the middle. He looked like someone who would listen to Live. Without standing up, I could tell that he was most likely a foot or more taller than she.
Her hair was black. It was pulled back into a messy bun with a few strands sticking out here and there with large waves in them. I could tell that her hair was long, but not much longer than his. The only make-up she wore was on her eyes and it was very dark and very heavy. But still, her brown eyes looked big and wide and taking everything in. Her eyes were young. Not like his.
Her top was tight, but not very revealing. She wore a short, black and red skirt that showed her black lace stockings leading down to where her black platform boots started, just under the knee. Her legs were draped over his lap and she was childishly tapping her right foot while gabbing on and on about the most recent cartoons she had seen.
He appeared to be about 20-25 years older than her. You could see it in his pale skin and the way that he smiled. She talked and talked while he played with the hair on the back of her neck. She thought he was listening. I know he was undressing her with his mind. Once in a while he would interrupt her with a kiss. She never minded.
She was happy. You could see it in her eyes. She was thinking about the future. About tomorrow. About ten years from now. What THEY would be doing. And where THEY would be living. She adored him and admired him, and her soul was bare and visible in that naïve face. She would smile wide and stare at his face. She was wondering what her family would think of him. And how she couldn’t wait for her friends to meet him. Their relationship was still new, but she was so excited. She was so in love. She hasn’t admitted it to herself yet, but I knew she was in love.
He was looking at her lips. And at her neck. And at her exposed thighs. He never looked her in the eye. He grinned. It was different than a smile. His grin was mischievous and alarming. He didn’t care what she had to say, he wasn’t listening to her anyway. In fact, he wished she would stop talking and start kissing him.
But he was thinking about the future too. He was thinking about what would happen when the subway stopped and they got off. He wondered what color her underwear was. And he thought about what the rest of the night would be like. He never thought about the next day, or the next week, or the next year. Not as she has. Only his immediate future thoughts involved her.
And I felt apologetic for her. She was blind to it all.
“I am drawn to you.” He said. His face was serious. He meant what he said. He kissed me. And it was wonderful.
But I laughed. “Drawn to me?” I thought. The idea of ANYONE being drawn to me was just down-right ridiculous I thought. After I let out a small giggle, he looked at me. “What?” He said while looking into my eyes so deeply, I thought for sure he was looking at a roadmap of my brain and reading my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I whispered while leaning in to steal a kiss. He made that face. The one I love. He has this half-smile smirk thing that I melt just thinking about. It says that he’s thinking something, oh how I wish I knew what that something was. After seeing that face, I had to steal just one more kiss.
We took trains from different directions to meet each other half-way and get some drinks and just enjoy each other’s company for a few hours; Mr. Unrealistic and I. After three bars, a few drinks, and more laughs than I can count, we walked and sat in the park. He put his arm around me and we discussed art, religion, politics, family, and an abundance of funny, childhood stories.
We walked and talked and drank and laughed for over eight hours. And it was time to head home. I let him leave first, because I knew it would be easier walking away after saying goodbye than it would be to leave him behind.
We kissed one last time. “I really had a great time. Please tell me I’ll see you soon?” Our faces were close and we were holding hands at our sides. He rested his forehead against mine.
“Yes” I whispered with closed eyes.
I smiled the whole way home.
This weekend could have gone better. Though, it could have gone worse.
Bad Things/Events/Happenings/Luck (In Chronological Order):
I overslept Saturday morning.
Causing me to miss my originally planned train.
Which caused me to have to cut lunch short with CC Guy.
Creepy guy tried to get my phone number standing outside of Penn Station while smoking a cigarette. (He didn’t know that “No” really meant NO!)
Missed train by 2 and half minutes because of Creey guy.
Had to pay an additional $40 on tickets to get them swapped to a different time.
Purchased Coach tickets first time around, but had to forfeit them when I swapped times and got stuck with a seat in the “quiet car”. That means cell phone off, no headphones, no talking. Thankfully I brought three books. (I always underpack on clothes and other necessitites, but always overpack on books. Just goes to show what’s more important to me.)
Arrived late due to TWO missed trains and had to push back ALL of my meetings.
First meeting-Potential Art Client-I turned down.
Second meeting-Job Interview-Offered me really bad pay.
I got sick in the bathroom of a steakhouse. Twice.
The hotel double booked my room.
Had some drunken guy on the sidewalk follow me for three blocks and ask me the same questions over and over.
I had my wallet stolen right out of my bag. (All of my money, three debit cards-yes, I belong to three banks, don’t ask-four credit cards, hotel room keys, and license.)
Got lost.
Bars closed at 2am.
Was locked out of my hotel room when I returned from the bar.
The hotel was a D-U-M-P! (And expensive.)
Spent the morning at the police station filing a report for the stolen wallet causing me to miss my free breakfast at the hotel.
Third meeting-Publisher-Made no sense to me. Everything went right over my head. Too bad I’m not a lawyer (or a mathmetician), I may have understood what she was talking about better.
Missed my train.
Had to pay ANOTHER $40 to swap times again. (Or wait at the train station for almost six hours. Alone. With no money.)
Stuck in quiet car again.
Second train got delayed “due to police activity” for over an hour.
Good Things/Events/Happenings/Luck (In Chronological Order):
Train was fairly empty. Thankfully.
Arrived earlier than expected. (Even though I missed my first train.)
First Meeting-Potential Art Client-While I turned down the opportunity to paint a mural on a wall in his house, I did agree to paint five paintings (for a great price) for him to hang at his house.
Second Meeting-Job Interview-While they offered me terrible pay, I did explain to them that I was not looking for a job. They found me and contacted me. They wanted me to leave my job and move there to work for them. While, career wise, that would be a great opportunity, they had to at least match my pay for me to pick up and leave. They said they would contact me during the week.
Met up with MySpace man. (Who is MUCH better looking in person than he is on the computer. And sweet and smart, incredibly insightful and philosophical. We got along really well and had a good time, despite the fact that I was feeling horrible for the first two hours we were hanging out. What was supposed to be “meeting up for drinks” turned into drinks, walking, sitting by the water, and talking for almost eight hours. Intense!)
So that pretty much sums up my weekend.
P.S. Did I mention that MySpace guy was really cute? And funny? And sweet, smart, and everything else that I find wonderful in a man?
Why must dating be so complicated at times? Can’t things just go smoothly? You meet a guy, you connect, you exchange numbers, go out one night, you either like him or you don’t, he either likes you or he doesn’t. Simple as that.
I wish.
There’s all sorts of factors that come in to play that people don’t take into account if they’re not single themselves. My sister thinks that since I have been single since February I should be settled down with someone else by now. Not as easy as it sounds. Plus, I’m not even really sure that I want to settle down with someone at this moment in my life.
“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t call you back!” She screams out of anger. She’s even more upset about than I am. All I did was shrug my shoulders and say oh well.
“No big deal. He’s just not that into me. Plently of fish in the sea.”
“Yea… But… Why wouldn’t he be into you? You’re smart, funny, beautiful, caring. I could go on and on.”
“Please don’t.” She gives me that look. You know the one. Where she’s thinking “I really could go on and on, but I know you don’t believe me, and you’re an idiot for not believing me.”
“It’s really not a big deal. I wasn’t so into him either. I mean he was great and all. Nothing negative or unattractive about him. He really did have the whole package.”
“So what was the problem?”
“No spark. No connection. That, and he obviously wasn’t that into me. That’s kind of important.”
“He’s stupid. If he can’t see how great you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“That doesn’t make him stupid. It just means that we are not compatible. For all I know he did think I was great and I’m just not his type.”
“How are you not his type? You’re EVERYONE’S type! You’re perfect.”
“No one is perfect. And honestly? I could go on about this forever, but I really just don’t feel like it. It’s not even a big deal. I don’t even care.”
She lets out a sigh of frustration. “His loss.”
“Whatever you say.” I roll my eyes when she’s not looking. Why is she making a big deal about it? We went on two dates for Christ’s sake! And I don’t even care. It’s not like I was upset and she was trying to be a good sister by siding with me and bashing him behind his back. I was actually defending him. Probably because I’ve been in his shoes before.
It is possible to be a good person, smart, funny, ambitious, kind, a not bad to look at to meet someone who has all the same qualities and just not click. I understood it, I don’t know why she couldn’t. Not everyone has to like to me. And I don’t have to like everyone.
My sister has been in a serious relationship with the same guy for the past seven years. No engagement so far. But we all know they will get married. They bought a house two years ago and he’s saying the reason they’re not yet married is because with the mortgage and everything he can’t afford a ring right now. She doesn’t even want a ring. Or a big wedding. But he insists on a ring.
She’s twenty-seven years old. So she hasn’t been single since she was twenty. And before that she dated a guy for two years. With no other men in between the two. So she has no clue what the dating world is like. So I suppose I can be understanding of her whole take on it. The only things she knows about dating she learns from me – her little sister – or movies, which, let’s face it, are not a good source of knowledge.
I’ve got three dates this weekend. She thinks that’s a little excessive.
“What happens if you really like one of them? Then what of the other two?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
What can I say? I like to keep my options open.
As cliche as it is, I met a guy on MySpace. I haven’t met him in person, though. I stumbled upon his page in the middle of the night. (I have insomnia, so I don’t sleep very often.) I really only checked it out because he had some beautiful artwork on there. So I sent him a message complimenting his paintings. For about two weeks we exchanged messages talking about art, seeing as how I’m a fellow painter myself. Very innocent.
But now the messages seem to be getting more and more personal. We talk about work, our families, friends, writing, etc. He’s actually very cute, and I find myself thinking about him alot. Wondering what he looks like in person. (Pictures don’t always portray someone’s actual physical appearance.) I anxiously check my messages a couple of times a day hoping that there might be something new from him. I think about what he might be doing and when he will paint his next masterpiece. I wonder why someone who can seem so interesting, intelligent, talented, sweet-and did I mention good looking?-still be single.
So I am finally admitting, not only to myself, but to all of you, that I do have a tiny crush on him. I don’t know that I would ever dare meet him in person though. You always hear horror stories about girls meeting guys on the internet and such. Not to mention, he lives in another state. Not too far, but far enough that I would have to stay in a hotel overnight. That just makes me feel even more vulnerable for disaster. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. But as far as I can tell, he has every single quality that I admire and desire in a man.
I wonder if he feels the same way. Or even thinks about me at all.
Why do people feel so sorry for us single gals? I personally don’t think we have it that bad. Sure it would be nice to have a certain someone to share special times with, to turn to when we need support, and to come home to every night. But it’s not a tragedy that we haven’t found that person yet. Sure, we’re have our relationships along the way (well… some of us have). There’s been good times and bad times. Life lessons and experiences. Learning, growing, and changing. But everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’m not meant to be with someone right now. Maybe I need to worry about myself and my dreams and my ambitions for a change. I have more than once put my needs aside to tend to someone else. And I believe this is my time to shine. This time it’s for me. And that may sound selfish, but for someone like me, I think it’s necessary. We can’t keep neglecting ourselves to help others. It’s just not fair.
I do miss having a special someone that I could depend on everyday. But I also need to depend on myself. Because nothing is guaranteed. There’s no telling what could happen. When all is said and done, the only people I can truly depend on are myself and my family. Relationships end. There’s no stopping it. Sure, you can have your soul mate and be together forever. But there is no such thing as forever. As bitter as it sounds, someone has to die first. I’ve learned this at an early age. I watched my father in despair as he buried his one true love, his soul mate, his best friend. My mother. Neither of them thought their marriage would be so short. But it taught me that no matter what, there is no promise that someone will always be there for you to look after you, help you, guide you, care for you. You have to be prepared for the unexpected. Because you don’t want to be put in a vulnerable situation. You can always count on yourself. And that’s all there is to it.
I do hate coming home to an empty apartment every night. I have my dog. That always helps. But it can feel very lonely. I have been living on my own for the past almost five years. (Yes, I moved out an early age. And not by choice.) But I have always had a roommate or lived with a boyfriend. This is my first time living by myself. It can be kind of nice. No one to clean up after other than myself. No one to answer to if I don’t to the dishes until the next day. Electric, water, and phone bill has dropped dramatically. I can have friends over for drinks and not worry about someone in the other room trying to sleep. (The Ex never hung out with my friends. He always just went to bed when they would come over and then bitch and moan in the morning about how we were loud, and up late, and he was trying to sleep, and we made a mess, yada yada yada. He never liked any of my friends. Well, that’s not true. He obviously liked one of them. He liked her a lot more than I would have liked.)
I feel that I am some-what lucky to be single right now. I think this might be the best time of my life to be single. Now I can do the things I want without feeling like I’m being held down. I can travel. I can pick up and move on a whim if I want to. (And I do want to.) I am free to just go out and about and do the things that single females my age do. (Without the sleeping around. I just don’t have it in me. Maybe I’m prude for it, but I can’t sleep with someone unless there is some significant kind of connection.)
I don’t know about all you other ladies, but I am enjoying the single life.
….For now anyway.
I am not one to toot my own horn. Never have been. But since becoming single (which was only about 6 months ago) I have met so many new people. Let me rephrase that, I have met so many new men. I was always the type of girl to have a lot of friends who were men and very few friends that were women. So naturally, a night out at the bar with my friends (when I was with my Ex) would consist of about 10 men and myself. The Ex would never come. And maybe two or three times in the whole three years he and I dated had I been approached by a man that was not within my circle of friends. I swear I must’ve been putting out some subconscious “vibe” to ward off the single male. Now-a-days, I get approached at least 2-3 times every time I go out. It’s all very strange to me. I don’t dress, act, talk any different than I did before. I don’t eye guys up and down when I spot them at the bar. Half the time I don’t even notice that there is anyone else there other than my friends and myself.
And I’m not putting myself down, but I don’t think that I am really anything special. I think I’m alright. Average. I have average looks (and I don’t dress like other girls; jeans and tee shirts are my everyday wardrobe) and I have an ok personality (at least I think so; I’m smart and funny; nothing to brag about) and I don’t really do anything in particular to “lure in the men”.
A typical night at the bar for me? My friends are all dressed on the nicer side. My guy friends wear $80 jeans with the premade fade in the front. A button down shirt, nothing fancy, with shoes, not sneakers. Like I mentioned earlier, it’s 10 of them and one of me, the only girl, always. None of the girlfriends come out. I go there in my $3 Old Navy flip flops, jeans that are so old that they have rips and tears that $80 jeans don’t. They typically have some kind of dirt/stain on it being that I almost always go straight from work. I’m usually wearing some lame tee. Today it was one of my favorites. Plain, cotton tee (NOT skin-tight) with a pitcher of beer on it and it says “Relief Pitcher”. If you don’t know me, than you probably wouldn’t understand the value the shirt holds in my heart. It’s almost 8 years old, has seen so many places, faces, and adventures. I got it at a Red Sox/Yankees game. (I’m a Met fan by the way.) My hair, now being short, is messy and curly due to the lovely rain we had today with some flimsy, plain headband in my hair. It’s so short that I can’t even pull it up. So when I have a bad hair day, everyone knows about it. I looked like a God-damn mess. And yet, I still managed to get two free drinks.
I must add that I am also that girl that will argue with a guy about free drinks. I don’t think it’s fair that men should always pay for the drinks. The first guy came over with a drink in-hand for me. After about 10 seconds he commented on my ass and he was immediately dismissed. *NOTE-Guys: Girls like me are absolutely repulsed by comments such as “Nice ass”, “Hey hottie”, “Sexy”, “Ma”, and the like. Don’t waste your time, they will get you NOWHERE with me.
The second came over offering a name and drink. I accepted the name, declined the drink, but offered to buy him instead. After about 3 and half minutes of discussing why I wouldn’t let him buy me a drink, he bought me one anyway. (It sucks drinking beer sometimes because you can’t even deny what you’re drinking while taking the opportunity to tease and flirt.) He was very nice. Intelligent. Very well mannered. It didn’t hurt that he was devastatingly handsome and dressed in a very nice (and what appeared to be very expensive) suit. Now, being a casual girl myself, I don’t know why it is that I drool so much over a man dressed in a nice suit. I suppose it’s some sort of fantasy of mine that I have not yet realized.
After about an hour of shameless flirting, small talk, and the occasional pause in conversation to sip our drinks and smile at each other, we parted ways. He was meeting some clients from his “firm” for drinks and they had arrived. We exchanged phone numbers and I promised myself I would contain my drool long enough for my friends to ask questions about the mysterious man rather than tease me about it. Oh, and I sent a drink to his table just before he sat with his clients. Because it’s only fair.
He sat at a table across the bar with four other men in equally ecsquisite suits and glanced in my direction from time to time letting out just a tiny smirk. Just enough to make me blush and have to look away only to see all of my friends gaucking at me and waiting to rip on me for it.
Who thought Tuesday’s didn’t have to be dull?
