Back to the Weekend Wrapup

There’s not much variety in my weekend wrap-ups… essentially, I compensate for working and being responsible all week by getting completely irresponsibly drunk every weekend. Unfortunately, I cannot report that this one was any different.

Friday I went out with my new neighbor and had drinks. He left, I stayed out, came home drunk and passed out on my couch, on TOP of my laptop. I woke up at 6 AM with my man bits being scorched. Quite unpleasant.

Saturday I went out in Manhattan for a friend’s birthday. It was at one of those spots that are “hidden from tourists.” This means there is no sign for it, and the only indication you are at the right place is the two huge guys posted out front. The location wasn’t bad, but it was a tad pricey. I think I must of dropped at least $200, but I had my reasoning.

Upon walking in, I was greeted enthusiastically by my friend. The first think she said to me was “Did you see Nicole?” Nicole is a friend of hers who I sort of, kind of, dated for a little bit a couple of summers ago. I told her I had not, and that I didn’t intend to. Her response was “Oh, well she’s here with her boyfriend.” It was at this point that I began the heavy drinking assault.

I was introducing myself to people, and one of them happened to be the younger sister of a girl I very vaguely know from college. She mentioned that she shared my fondness for Jameson, and a bond was forged. It’s not when you don’t even have to try to buy a girl a drink. We joked around a bit, and somehow this lead us to the bathroom where I had to demonstrate that I could comfortably fit into her jeans.

The whole while, I was keeping a mindful eye on Nicole, not trying to act like I was playing out a little battle between us. The I was talking to was trying to get the DJ to play a song all night, and was failing pretty miserably. I went and had a little DJ to DJ talk with him, and he came through. I think this actually impressed her.

Somehow we ended up on the couch in the back just sitting close and talking. Nicole come over near us with her boyfriend, and the two start sucking face. I kept my composure and minded my business. I waiting for them to leave before I made the moves on my girl. I didn’t want it to seem as though I was doing it simply for the display. So, big deal, I got a little make-out session in the back of a club. I imagine it was pretty bad as I was significantly drunk at this point.

But I was coherent enough to realize that this girl is very nice, and damn cute. I nonchalantly gave her the usual, “I’d like to take you out to dinner” line, thinking it was just a formality. And she honestly, shut me down. She said no. Her reasoning? That I seem “like the kind of guy that would want to date her.” Whoa… Apparently she needed to snog with me in the back of the joint to determine this. I guess I can’t argue if that’s the vibe I currently give off.

Anyway, I got her number, but I don’t see that I have much of a course of action. It’s too bad, she really seemed like a nice girl.

Anyway, Sunday I woke up and headed to a little Cuban place for brunch and screwdrivers. I was a few in before I even realized it was Easter. Years as an altar boy, and nobody even calls me to wish me happy Easter. All I have left is whiskey soaked nights.

All in all a good weekend. I’m sure this poor girl will be subject to one of my drunk dialings at some point. But, as usual, I think that’s my only option.

The Mathematics of Regret

I don’t know who wrote this:

Our relationship started with “So What” and ended on the same note, except the first was Davis, and the second DiFranco.

But if it was a girl, I want to date her.

For your reference:

NYC Women

New York women are tough. They are cynical, and snarky and the attribute they hold above all else is their abrasiveness. They will pick you apart and question you like it’s the pivotal scene in an episode of Law and Order.

I’m sure some day my experiences with these women will make me thankful for the a kinder, gentler woman I encounter. Right now, all they make me is spiteful. I don’t recall ever doing anything that makes me deserve being subject their third degree, but it makes me want to go out and do something awful to even the score.

Maybe it’s where I can come from, but I cannot imagine questioning, challenging, and doubting a person’s career to be appropriate small  talk. Somehow though, it seems perfectly acceptable to NYC women. Things you might also, get on a first encounter with them: talking bad about your friends, mocking your attire, and rude gestures.

They can be shallow, and not even the good type of shallow. The assuming type, that because they breathe and possess breasts, that they are automatically of paramount attractiveness to every guy in the room.

I’m sure they probably chalk this all up to a defense mechanism, due to behaviours of my male peer group, but I find this a little hard to swallow. If anything, I say their behaviour makes me want to go out and start lieing to women. And then we have a real chicken or the egg on our hands.

Regrouping

I know I’ve taken a drop off the face of the earth, but I think justifiably so. In recent weeks I’ve moved to a new apartment, in a different city, in a rough (to say the least) neighborhood where I am very much the minority resident. I’m living alone, for the first time in my life, in a tiny studio, paying way too much for rent. I don’t know why, but I like to say things like “I am trying to focus on my music.” I think I really just need to focus on me. I’ve gotten rid of cable and other distractions. Except, now I am subject to my neighbor’s dog’s incessant barking. But on the plus, I get to walk around naked… a lot.

I think one of my biggest downfalls is adhering to a plan of attack. I am great at formulating logical and mature approaches to difficult situations in life, but my follow through is often lacking. This is the reason while I still waste exorbitant amounts of time talking to ex-girlfriends trying to “be friends” only for ancient feelings to creep back in and me to make a fool of myself.

It’s also why I failed at this website. My original honest intentions were to provide myself an outlet for my emotions which I know are not logical, and often seem just downright whiny. I presumed that I could carry out doing this anonymously. Again, I came up way short. I failed at maintaining that,  to people I don’t know, to my closest friend and to one enemy. I even allowed myself to essentially be a cog, in which was just a ploy to satisfy people’s curiosity about my identity.

I’ve considered packing up my bags and moving on. But these are the cards I’ve been dealt, and I’m going to forge through. Thanks in advance for putting up with me.

Inflection

During all the small talk, it never really hurts until she affirms “Yeah, I’m still dating him.”

Alternatively titled, “If you really want to lose a full nights sleep, open a 2-year old email from an ex-girlfriend that you never read, and then decide to forward it back to her.”

San Diego Serenade

“I never saw my home town
until I stayed away too long.
I never heard the melody
until I needed the song.”

If I could have dinner with anyone in the world. Tom Waits, hands down.

Frick

I survived Valentine’s Day 2009. Not without incident, but survived. Since I can never address anything outright, and due to my economics background, I think the usage of a paradigm is in order.

Before I had this site, years ago, I used to blog regularly. The blogosphere was still in it’s infancy, and I was able to quickly develop a bit of a readership. I frequented a lot of blogs, and made no efforts to mask my identity, not even so much as with a witty screenname.

I was 19 years old and living in an era before many of the evils of the internet were so apparent. Also, an era before Facebook.

At some point I came across the blog of a woman who had recently survived a harrowing battle with brain cancer. It was impossible not to admire her bravery. Her writing was amazing. She was brilliant. She was also 7 years my senior.

Completely innocent emails were exchanged of mutual admiration. She was a PhD linguistics student, and probably the most intelligent female with which I had ever interacted. Emails turned into into text messages, which turned into late night phone calls. I never told any of my friends, or my girlfriend at the time, of her existence. How do you explain something like that?

Then one miserable winter night, I was going through a really awful break-up. I was an emotion basket case. I called my internet friend, and she did her best to console me. It wasn’t enough.

Before I knew it, hundreds of miles were being traveled, and we were meeting in the middle of nowhere in a seedy hotel. Actually, I think it was a Holiday Inn, but that doesn’t punctuate the story enough. Yada Yada Yada, we did the one thing that always accelerates the recovery from a tough break-up.

That was it, just one night. We soon grew apart, and stopped talking. We both packed up our websites. Last I heard, I think she lives in the MidWest somewhere with her fiance… probably on a farm. I never told a single soul about this encounter, as it’s not exactly something I’m proud of and I’m sure it seems quite weird.

Anyway, when I decided to start blogging again, this incident was one of the reasons for me choosing to attempt to be anonymous. But apparently, I’m not even any good at that.

My Bad.

Oops.

More to come when the light doesn’t hurt my eyes so much.

The End of an Era

I have about five topics right now that I consider worthy of a post, all of which don’t make me look like Sir Douche of Bag, but where would be the fun in that? This one just popped into my head, and so I thought I’d through it out there heedlessly, and probably make myself look bad.

Anyone that knows me would suspect that I would be the first person to admonish the so-called “holiday” that is Valentine’s Day. I always have so much pessimism to spread the rest of the year. For some reason, V-Day has always gotten a pass on my wrath. That might potentially all change this year.

The inner machinations of the male mind are not always a pretty place. But this is a reality we must all (including me) face.

This isn’t really the time for my “First Time” Story, but as it’s relevant it was on Valentine’s Day. I was 17 and, she was my first serious girlfriend, and a very sweet girl. It was awkward, ridiculous, and hilarious. And perfect. That’s all that needs to be noted. Oh, and she’s married now.

Anyways, after that sappiness, here’s what I really associate with Valentine’s Day. I followed that performance up by making a streak of 5 consecutive years of getting laid on V-Day, with 5 different women. I’m by no means some prolific lover, but that’s an impressive feet. All my guy friends who are much better versed with the ladies can’t even claim that one.

I know it makes me sound shallow, and I’m not trying to claim to be the Valentine’s Day Gangster of Love. It would just be nice if I could get a line on my resume for it or something.

This year the streak will without a doubt end. I mean, it was inevitable, and it’s such a First World problem. But as far as I’m concerned, given what I’m working with, my streak is WAY more impressive than Joe DiMaggio’s 56 Games.

Breakup Albums

This are the kind of things that keep me up at night:

When I was a senior in high school, I had my first girlfriend. Lost my virginity to her and all that jazz, and then consequently, my first real break up. And so I did the only natural thing: the whole can’t eat, can’t sleep, won’t leave the house for months tango.

It was during that time that I discovered the power of playing one album, continuous on repeat. It’s no secret that I have penchant for sad bastard music… but this is taking it to the extreme. Find the saddest album out at the time, and listen to it continuously until every fiber in your body that is capable of feeling sadness is exhausted and worn out. Then you’re ready to leave the house and resume life.

That first album was The Used – The Used.

After a month of this, I ventured out and quickly met another girl… a year of dating later, and it was another breakup.
This time the album was: Bright Eyes – LIFTED or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground

Another girl, another year: Counting Crows – August and Everything After

Then came The JAP, a couple of years of hell, and the saddest of the saddest:
Park – It Won’t Snow Where You’re Going

Which brings me to my hypothesis of what’s wrong with me. It’s been almost two years since the last ex, and even then there was never a really good breakup album I burned out. It’s been a long time since I’ve even gotten close to dating someone. Sure, there have been plenty of Kinda/Sorta’s, but nothing of real substance.

I am starting to feel like my body, heart and mind are in need of a real cleansing. A quick delve into the pits of depression, in order to refresh myself. First, I need a catalyst.
But that kind of pain, only a woman can provide.