eHarmony sChmarmony

A few months ago I decided I was going to try eHarmony after the holidays.  I have a friend who does it and actually meets fun people, well, fun people for her.  She gets all these investment bankers and traders who shop at Barney’s and hang out at the hottest clubs.  That’s a pretty good fit for her.  I tend prefer my guys a little less buttoned up but I’m sick of meeting “artists” or “writers” (aka waiters and temps) at bars in Williamsburg so I’m going to give this eHarmony thing a try to see if I can meet a cool guy somewhere inbetween stock broker and just plain broke.

Anyway, I’m filling out the profile thing now because I heard that if you do it and don’t sign up they’ll send you some discounts.  Plus, you get to see some of your matches and it helps with my whole not-doing-work-at-work pastime.  This questionnaire has hundreds of questions, mostly picking things out on a scale of one to seven with a few open ended ones.  I’m having such a hard time answering these things.  One of them was “Name the three things you are MOST thankful for”.  My response to this one took me and my top gay about 45 minutes to answers because I want to be truthful but when you don’t know me some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth doesn’t make sense.  Were I to answer this question truthfully, I would say:

  1. Puppies
  2. Homosexuals, specifically male homosexuals
  3. DVR

If you know me, it makes so much sense.  I DO love puppies.  They turn my cold, black heart into a warm, gooey s’more.  And I DO love homosexuals.  My life without gay men would be unimaginable.  And, well, I’ve often been heard referring to my DVR as my boyfriend.  That said, if you don’t know me I sound like a fat chick with a bobblehead kitten collection.  So how did I respond?

  1. It sounds generic, but I’m thankful for my mom and my close friends.
  2. I’m thankful for being healthy and happy.
  3. DVR

That sounds much more normal, right?  It also doesn’t sound like that took two people 45 minutes to come up with.

The question that just popped up is “What are you passionate about?”  This is gonna take me like 3 days to finish.  Off the top of my head, here’s what I am really, actually passionate about:

I am passionate about pop music, specifically Britney Spears; drinking wine and smoking cigarettes; gay men and their preferred brand of lubricant; Gossip Girl; men with large penises; men with accents; men with puppies; the zoo; Mexican food; wearing the color royal blue; not cleaning my apartment; Ambien and Xanax; Robert Pattinson; gossip blogs; ordering french fries at fancy restaurants; good tequila; dancing with gay men; dancing with black men; reading; and, finally, having fantastic hair.

That girl sounds like a train wreck!  A fun, hella cool train wreck you would love to have as a friend, but deffo not someone you would choose to date based on reading that.  Aight, I’m gonna go attempt to sound like a normal person now.  Wish me luck!

UPDATE:  Here’s what I ended up writing.  It actually only took me like half an hour.

I’m passionate about having fun.  Life should be something to enjoy and not just trudge through.  I work to live – not live to work.  My friends are very important to me.  The people you surround yourself with make all the difference so why not put a little extra effort into keeping the good ones around.  On a less philosophical note, you could also say I’m passionate about celebrity gossip, ordering French fries at fancy restaurants and paying the extra couple of bucks for the good scotch.

Finding Peace and Realizing He’s Just Not Good Enough

I’ve been feeling a little reflective lately. Probably has to do with the fact that this week marks one year since the Break Up. Once I was able to unfold myself from the fetal position I spent weeks sobbing in, I decided to spend 2008 doing all the crazy, single, twenty-something things I wasn’t able to do the six years prior. I even told my mom, “I promise I’m going to think of my career and grad school, but not until 2009. I’m dedicating 2008 to being a drunken, crazy mess.” (In similar conversations with friends I would replace the word crazy with slutty.) My mom was happy to have me out of an unhappy relationship and finally able to speak full sentences without breaking down into sobs so she fully supported my decision to be a hot mess in 2008.

I was pretty successful as being a mess this year, much of which has been or will be documented on this blog. I was also successful at other things. I now have a close knit group of friends, both new and old, who not only let me be myself, but help me celebrate it. I got my own large-by-NYC-standards apartment. I got promoted. I lost some weight. But, most importantly I’ve started to really find myself. From the moment I was finally able to stand up off the floor, I realized that I am one of the strongest people I know, even if my self esteem waivered at times and soul crushing depression seeped in through the cracks. I survived something that I thought would end me. Not only did I survive, I came out stronger. I actually used to wish that if The Ex died in a fiery plane crash, I was with him when it happened so I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of losing him. Me! I cannot believe I ever thought that way. Those feelings seem so distant and far away now.

But, like I said, I knew I was strong and everything was for the best, but there were many, many low moments throughout this year. Moments when I felt I was unworthy, ugly and unlovable. Even in my strongest, happiest times, I knew there was a black hole there and if I got to close to the edge I would fall in. And I fell in often. Whether it was not getting a call from a boy, helping a friend with their own break-up drama or even an emotional episode of Grey’s Anatomy, it seemed that whenever I thought I was doing ok, something would happen to make me regress. Until now…

A couple of weeks ago, I was doing something silly like dancing in the mirror as I got ready for bed and it hit me. I was finally, actually, over it. Not ok with it or dealing with it or temporarily happy about something else. I was finally at peace with The Break Up. I felt lighter, happier and friends noticed that I looked better. My heart used to skip a beat every single time I saw The Ex. Now, I smile when I see him. The week I realized I was over it I saw him four days in a row. On the third day I saw him, I just started laughing. It tickles me to see him now, like my own little inside joke. I still can’t be friends with him but that now has more to do with the fact that I just don’t think we have anything in common anymore and, frankly, he’s just not good enough to be my friend.

This leads me into the thought of other boys. I’ve f*cked around a bit this year and for the most part it was just good old, dirty fun. I dabbled in dating but quickly realized I had no desire to become part of an “us” again. The only boy I’ve really had any above-the-belt feelings for this year lives eight hours away and therefore was a safe person to have feelings for because I knew there was no chance of us becoming an “us”. Yesterday, I was analyzing the various reasons why I don’t like the most recent boy I’ve dabbled with. Just as I was settling on the fact that he “accidentally” roofied himself at a party, an even more glaringly obvious reason hit me – he’s just not good enough.

The idea of acknowledging that certain guys just aren’t good enough for me may not seem very revolutionary to you, but I know a lot of girls that should live their dating life this way. Over the past year, I’ve been so obsessed with whether or not so many guys liked me that I never really stopped to take a minute to think whether or not they were good enough for me. Yes, he might be a good kisser, but he’s dumber than a rock. Yes, he’s got a nice c*ck, but he’s 34, lives with 4 roommates and has no career prospects. Yes, he’s polite and thinks I’m gorgeous, but I’m not even really attracted to him. Now that I am more self-assured and aware of my value, I don’t plan on wasting time on these losers. If he’s not good enough for me, I’m not going to pursue it. And, I implore everyone out there to take a second and think about this next time you are giving some dude your number in a bar. Have dirty make out sessions with these boys on the street, but don’t let them any further into your life if they aren’t good enough.

Sure, I’m still going to hook up with boys because they are cute or because I am drunk. That’s just plain fun and, besides, a girl has needs. But, I am going to refocus the energy I previously would have wasted on trying to get them to like me, onto doing things that make me a better person so that I’m really truly ready for it when someone good enough finally does comes along. I’m also not in a rush to find this. The idea of having some mentally, physically and emotionally good enough for me is so delicious, I’m willing to wait.

Ed Westwick Goes to a Gay Bar

This is devastating news and, no, I am not insinuating that Ed Westwick, aka my 2nd favorite dirty British boy, is gay.  He’s not, I mean, he might be, but I don’t think so and that’s not the point.  This little piece of news is particularly devastating because Ed Westwick was at a gay bar last night that I have frequented in the past.  Last night he was spotted hanging out at Marie’s Crisis on Christopher Street in the West Village.  For those who don’t know it’s a lovingly, divey piano bar where both gays and girls who love showtunes go to sing around the piano.  It’s mildly tragic at times, but everyone there tends to be really nice and it totally wins you over to be around people like that.

Living in NYC, you know there are celebrities all over the place, just not in your little version of NY.  Seriously, depending on your salary, field of employment, subculture and vice preference, there are thousands of different “kinds” of NYC.  My New York City doesn’t have real life celebrities in it…until now…on a night when I was at home baking cookies.  Shoot me now.

It’s Not That I Tried To Forget Sleeping With You

File this one under another story from the not so glamorous dating world of NYC.  At a party this weekend, this guy I slept with like six months ago showed up.  We’ll call him Motor, but only because he likes cars.  No sexual innuendo implied – if I wanted to give him a nickname based on our moments together I would probably call him the Giggler.  ANYWAY, back to the party.  He shows up and it’s not a big deal.  He doesn’t talk to me, I don’t talk to him.  That is, until our mutual friend “reminds” him that he slept with me.  I did not ask her to do it but whatevs.  Two seconds later he’s at my side apologizing for not saying hi to me sooner.  I tell him, “No worries. Seriously.  Don’t worry about it.”  And, I meant it.  There was nothing special between us.  We were both horny, knew the other was down for it, and went for it.

For some reason, guys in NY, probably American guys in general, all think that if a girl sleeps with you she wants more than that.  Often that is the case, but fellas, if a girl tells you to your face that it was just about the sex, please, please, please believe her.  Especially girls in their late 20s who’ve been around the block a couple of times.  Chances are, if we like you, we probably wouldn’t sleep with you immediately anyway…or at least we’d try not to.   And, if we do sleep with you immediately and have real feelings for you we probably will not wake up super early in the morning and peace out, never leaving you with our phone number.  Ok, once again back to the party and the funny part of this story…Motor and I find ourselves alone together for a second and the following exchange takes place:

Motor: So, yeah, sorry again for not recognizing you.

Me: Again, no worries.  I wasn’t sure that I would recognize you so it’s cool.

Motor: I just have a really, really bad memory.

Me: Me too.  I totally know how it is.  Don’t worry about it.

Motor: Actually, now that we’re here talking, flashes are coming back to me.  We had a really good time, didn’t we?

Me: Sure, we did.  We spent a very pleasant 6 hours together.  That’s all it was so stop worrying about it.  We’re cool.

Motor:  Did I get your number?

Me: No, you didn’t ask and I didn’t offer.

Motor: Well, again, I’m really sorry for not recognizing you.

Me (again): It’s all good.

Motor:  Cause you know, you are an attractive girl.  I just want you to know that it’s not like you are the kind of girl I would try to forget having sex with.  I would want to remember having sex with you.  You’re hot.  I just wanted you to know that, it’s not cause I think you are ugly or anything, I just have a really bad memory.

Me (after a pause): Thanks, I guess.  Ok.  Now that that is settled, I’m gonna head out.  Bye.

Then I grabbed the closest homo I could find and went dancing…at another bar.

Living & Loving in NYC, Dry Humping Style

I’ve promised some NYC Living & Loving stories on this blog and realize there is a severe lack of them. I’ll be rectifying that situation in the coming weeks. Until then, here’s a little tale on the dangers of dry humping.

My freshman year of college I had this huge crush on this junior who was in one of the plays I worked on. We’ll call him JTR. I spent a good month of my life obsessing over this boy so imagine my glee when he invites me back to his dorm room after a night of underage drinking at a karaoke bar. There we are in his room making out and having fun. We weren’t doing anything too risky because I was still a virgin at this time. We were just lying on his bed, fully clothed, kissing and heavy petting and I’m thinking to myself how awesome it was that I scored the hot guy in the play (something I would be able to do quite often in the future) when BAM! All of a sudden my head smashes into the headboard. Stunned, I defensively throw my arms against the wall to try to prevent a concussion. All I know is something is repeatedly knocking my head back. After a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity, I get my senses back and am able to maneuver my head to see what was causing this. It was JTR and he was, wait, what is he doing? Is he? Really? He is! He’s dry humping my stomach like my aunt’s pekingese dry humps my cousins Spongebob Square Pants plushy. Half too naïve to stand up for myself and half so shocked that I don’t know what to say, I just sort of watch it like a car wreck until he finishes. And, OH, what a finish. At some point, unbeknownst to me, he had pulled out his c*ck and decided to cum all over my stomach. Then, he stands up, hands me a paper towel and acts like he didn’t just dry hump me guerilla-style for a minute.

You would think I would so be done here. Nope. If you’re hot enough (or, frankly, even if you aren’t) I’m willing to overlook anything short of a Cleveland Steamer. But, I did casually mention that it wasn’t cool and if he needs to do it for some reason to at least not cum on my stomach or give me a concussion. It fell on deaf ears because the next time we hooked up, BAM! He goes at it again with just as much ferocity, banging my head against the wall and spilling his seed all over me. It was pretty much over after that. Seriously, who dry humps? I hadn’t done that since like 9th grade and my boyfriend didn’t even like it cause it chafed his junk (he later turned out to be gay so that might have had something to do with it too).

The story does end positively. A couple years later, I was at a bar looking super duper hot and he came up to me and tried to chat me up but I didn’t remember who he was. LOVE when that happens.

NKOTB Concert: The Review

The NKOTB concert at Madison Square Garden was amazing.  Like, beyond amazing.  We were trying to play it a little cool, but the second the pyrotechnics started before they got on stage we were screaming like eight year old girls.  Here’s the official Not So Glamorous review…

Lady Gaga was the first opening act.  I like her single but I don’t quite understand why everyone is so obsessed with her right now.  (Maybe just because Perez keeps cramming her down our throats?)  I’ve posted a pic below and you can see how her set would be really impressive and cool when done in a club but it just didn’t translate to Madison Square Garden.  I will say she did look smoking hot and the girl has amazing legs.  Her backup dancers were off timing wise and just generally looked like a hot mess.  It’s probably another problem with translating a club show to a massive arena but, frankly, I could put together a better crew of boys just by combing the dance floor of Sugarland on a Saturday night. She was also a little annoying when she made a big announcement of “Tonight a star is born!” in reference to herself.  No, sweetie, tonight you opened up for the star who opened up for NKOTB.

Natasha Bedingfield was the second opening act.  It was boring but she did a good job – even though there were times it felt like she was screaming at me.  Sister’s got a really big voice.  Her new haircut is BUSTED!  It looks like someone took a weed wacker to one side of head.

New Kids on the Block was, again, amazing.  They rightly refer to themselves as “The Block” now instead of the “New Kids”.  Like I said before, I was shocked by how darn right exciting it was.  When you think about it, the average girl (and some boys) my age spent years of her childhood imaging growing up and being married to one of these guys.  I used to get into fistfights with my cousin over which one of us got Jordan as her husband when we played house.  She was bigger and usually won so my affections quickly turned to Jon.  Anyway, you couldn’t even hear their first song because everybody was screaming like crazy.  Here’s a pic of their entrance:

Thanks to American Express pre-sale we had floor seats about 100 yards away from the stage.  They really gave their all to the audience.  They sang everysong you wanted them to sing and only made us listen to about 4 of the songs from the new album.  Jordan even got to do that single he came out with like 10 years ago.  That shizz is my jam still.  Anyway, so one of the most exciting parts of the night was when we noticed a piano on a small round stage in the center of the floor…oh, only about 25 feet from us.  We were so ridiculously close.  Here’s my favorite picture from the small stage.  You can see how much fun they are having with the whole thing:

It was interesting that all the guys slipped right back into their old roles.  Now, I’m gonna break each of ’em down for ya, after the jump.

Read the rest of this entry »

NKOTB: Pre-show Korean Food – Bad idea?

Korea Town – Not So Glamorous Cuisine

My friends and I were trying to figure out where to meet before the bit NKOTB show.  Me, being my drunken fun self, suggested going to Brother Jimmy’s and getting trashed with trashy people before the show.  My friends thought it would be better to actually eat dinner pre-show.  (I know, crazy, right?)  They decided on a Korean restaurant in Koreatown.  I’m really only telling you this to show that a) I was sober during the show and the fact that I still had an amazing time is extra-amazing and b) Korean food is so incredibly NOT glamorous.  Before you get your panties in a bunch, my korean food loving readers, I will say that I have enjoyed Korean food in the past.  In fact, if you look at our table, it looks like we had an incredibly tasty meal –

See that yummy looking red dish on the bottom left?  Yeah, that was mine.  I had the Spicy Monkfish Casserole.  Mmm…sounds yummy, right?  Now, behold what the monkfish inside the casserole actually looked like when you took it out of it’s spicy red sauce disguise –

Monkfish

Monkfish

Seriously, wtf?!?   I’m a brave eater so I ate it and a little bit of everything else.  Korean food almost ruined my NKOTB experience.  I think if my adrenaline wasn’t pumping at the sight of “The Block”, I probably would have been vomming.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, all I (and all of my peeps) really had to deal with was narly a$s stank breath from the cuisine.