This weekend I was invited by my friend Rachel to a birthday party for a male friend of hers at a lounge in Tribeca.
By midnight a crowd was streaming in, the DJ was spinning and people were dancing. After apple martinis compliments of a photographer I had been dancing and chatting with, I excused myself so I could track Rachel down.
I saw her sitting on the other side of the bar laughing with the birthday boy as he held a bottle of champagne.
I walked up as Rachel said "C'mon, lets dance".
"Okay" he said as someone waved him over "actually, game a sec, I'll be right back..." he trailed off as he made his way across the dance floor.
We stood there talking for a while when Rachel grabbed my hand. "C'mon lets see who's here" she said.
We pushed our way through the crowded dance floor and bumped into my photographer, he had another guy with him.
"Do you girls wanna dance?" the photographer asked as his friend eyed Rachel approvingly. I turned to Rachel who eyeballed the photographers friend, said "No, thanks" and yanked me past them. I turned to give my photographer an apologetic shrug.
We weaved through the clusters of people near the bar, a few guys tried to get Rachel’s attention by touching her arm, but she just kept walking.
As we made our way back towards the dance floor, I turned to ask her a question but she was focused on something. I followed her gaze to one of the plush couches where the birthday boy sat with two girls, one of them was chugging from the champagne bottle.
"Do you want a drink?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "Lets go, this place is dead"
Monday, February 11, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
A Brief Note On...Eyebrows
Let me start by saying, I understand that eyebrows can make or break ones look. I have a standing appointment every two weeks to have my brows threaded by a wonderful girl named Rani. Even the best smokey eyeshadow can be ruined if its framed by a bushy unibrow...I get it.
But this morning, as I was headed downtown on the 2 train, I looked up from my book for a moment and caught a glimpse of a woman leaning on the doors, with a mirror out, tweezing her eyebrows.
Yes, the bright flourecent bulbs of the New York subway reflecting on the windows of the train doors may shed some light (pun intended) on your less than perfect arches. But the subway is a place for iPod listening, reading the news paper over a strangers shoulder and begging for change.
The subway is not a place for grooming!
But this morning, as I was headed downtown on the 2 train, I looked up from my book for a moment and caught a glimpse of a woman leaning on the doors, with a mirror out, tweezing her eyebrows.
Yes, the bright flourecent bulbs of the New York subway reflecting on the windows of the train doors may shed some light (pun intended) on your less than perfect arches. But the subway is a place for iPod listening, reading the news paper over a strangers shoulder and begging for change.
The subway is not a place for grooming!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
One Singular Sensation
My phone rang the other night and it was one of my married friends.
“So, listen,” she said “my husband may have to travel on Valentines Day so I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and we can make dinner and drink champagne or something.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, and then we caught up a bit.
It wasn’t until I was hanging up the phone that the thought crossed my mind.
What if I had plans?
I look at my parents and the other “grown-ups” in my life, those with a marriage and kids and they all have a token single friend; the friend who’s always around to babysit or who is up for a girl’s night out at the drop of a hat.
Am I becoming that person?
As more and more of my friends get engaged, married or couple off into domestic bliss with a partner, I am trying very hard not to ignore the faint sense panic that washes over me sometimes.
I mean, I would hate to look up one day and realize that I am the only single person I know.
“So, listen,” she said “my husband may have to travel on Valentines Day so I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and we can make dinner and drink champagne or something.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, and then we caught up a bit.
It wasn’t until I was hanging up the phone that the thought crossed my mind.
What if I had plans?
I look at my parents and the other “grown-ups” in my life, those with a marriage and kids and they all have a token single friend; the friend who’s always around to babysit or who is up for a girl’s night out at the drop of a hat.
Am I becoming that person?
As more and more of my friends get engaged, married or couple off into domestic bliss with a partner, I am trying very hard not to ignore the faint sense panic that washes over me sometimes.
I mean, I would hate to look up one day and realize that I am the only single person I know.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
What you want, how you want it
Annie and I sat at brunch waiting for the rest of our friends. As the waitress brought our first round of mimosas, we caught up on the first date she'd had since her recent break-up.
"He leaned in to kiss me, and I burst into tears".
Keane had had a similar experience with a new friend of his as they were spooning in bed.
"He started telling me how beautiful my eyes were and I felt like I was going to cry" he told me.
What is it about these intimate moments that bring on a rush of emotion?
A few months ago I had plans for dinner and a DVD with a guy I had been talking to. Although he was nice and smart and funny I decided during dinner that he wasn't for me. We were having a good time and good conversation so, I thought nothing of continuing with the DVD portion of our date. There we were cozy in my apartment, in a comfortable silence, and suddenly tears began to well up in my eyes.
I realized that though it wasn't someone I was interested in, being with a guy in that intimate space felt good and I had missed it.
There is something painful about the offering of something you want from a place you don't want it to come from.
In my case the pleasure of a quiet, intimate moment mixed with the pain of sharing it with someone I didn't have feelings for resulted in a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes.
And so, we continue to wait for the time when what we want comes in the way we want it.
"He leaned in to kiss me, and I burst into tears".
Keane had had a similar experience with a new friend of his as they were spooning in bed.
"He started telling me how beautiful my eyes were and I felt like I was going to cry" he told me.
What is it about these intimate moments that bring on a rush of emotion?
A few months ago I had plans for dinner and a DVD with a guy I had been talking to. Although he was nice and smart and funny I decided during dinner that he wasn't for me. We were having a good time and good conversation so, I thought nothing of continuing with the DVD portion of our date. There we were cozy in my apartment, in a comfortable silence, and suddenly tears began to well up in my eyes.
I realized that though it wasn't someone I was interested in, being with a guy in that intimate space felt good and I had missed it.
There is something painful about the offering of something you want from a place you don't want it to come from.
In my case the pleasure of a quiet, intimate moment mixed with the pain of sharing it with someone I didn't have feelings for resulted in a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes.
And so, we continue to wait for the time when what we want comes in the way we want it.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Three Layers... One Date
I had met Charles three weeks before we actually went out. He was good about calling, he called often and we had great conversations but after three weeks of that I couldn’t help but feel like I could potentially be wasting my time.
I’ve learned that a guy has three personality layers:
Layer One: When he first meets you and confidence is bursting forth.
Layer Two: When he starts calling and testing the waters and seeing what you are about. This is often done with jokes, for example:
A guy may make a sexual innuendo during an initial phone conversation and from a females reaction to it, may not call again (this has happened to me twice since I am not very receptive to sexually charged phone conversations)
Layer Three: When he takes you on a date. That’s when the flood gates open and anything can happen. He’s on a mission, it can be anything from “getting some” to finding a wife, but more often than not, on that first date you find out what it is.
The fear of Layer Three is why I hate dragging out the “talking” phase of dating. There’s nothing worse than getting pounced on during a first date and thinking back to all the hours of phone time that you will never get back!
When Charles asked me out after three weeks at Layer Two, I was interested to see how it turned out. He suggested taking me to dinner and I accepted.
So, on a warm evening I put on a white BoHo style dress with frayed edges across the neck and hemline, a denim shrug and a pair of strappy sandals. As I walked down the block to meet him (I never tell guys exactly where I live) I got approving stares from the guys hanging out on the street.
As I walked over to Charles car, feeling good, I opened the door and as I got in the passenger seat, I looked over and saw that he was wearing a jogging suit.
A jogging suit from… Old Navy.
I wanted to jump out of the car right then and there, but I felt paralyzed. As we drove to the restaurant and sat down to eat he was nice and funny but I couldn’t get over the jogging suit…from Old Navy.
I don’t know if I was staring at the Old Navy logo too much, but eventually he said
“I was going to wear a dress shirt and slacks, but I really didn’t feel like ironing today.”
I smiled politely and pushed my food around with my fork. I had no appetite.
As we drove back towards my apartment he says to me, “where did you get that dress?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well,” he pointed to the frayed edges “because it’s not finished.”
“It’s the style of the dress” I said flatly as I looked out the window, all the while wondering why I was explaining my fashion choices to someone in a jogging suit.
Then he said “Well… wherever you got it you should take it back.”
I turned to him and said “I’m sorry but, if I had known we were wearing PAJAMAS tonight, I would have dressed accordingly.”
We drove the rest of the way to my apartment in silence.
As we approached my corner he asked if I was upset, I told him that what he said was rude. Then I noticed that instead of pulling over for me to get out of the car he was attempting to Parallel Park. I asked him what he was doing and he said.
“Can’t I come up?”
He was shocked when I said "No".
Layer Three, gets you every time.
I’ve learned that a guy has three personality layers:
Layer One: When he first meets you and confidence is bursting forth.
Layer Two: When he starts calling and testing the waters and seeing what you are about. This is often done with jokes, for example:
A guy may make a sexual innuendo during an initial phone conversation and from a females reaction to it, may not call again (this has happened to me twice since I am not very receptive to sexually charged phone conversations)
Layer Three: When he takes you on a date. That’s when the flood gates open and anything can happen. He’s on a mission, it can be anything from “getting some” to finding a wife, but more often than not, on that first date you find out what it is.
The fear of Layer Three is why I hate dragging out the “talking” phase of dating. There’s nothing worse than getting pounced on during a first date and thinking back to all the hours of phone time that you will never get back!
When Charles asked me out after three weeks at Layer Two, I was interested to see how it turned out. He suggested taking me to dinner and I accepted.
So, on a warm evening I put on a white BoHo style dress with frayed edges across the neck and hemline, a denim shrug and a pair of strappy sandals. As I walked down the block to meet him (I never tell guys exactly where I live) I got approving stares from the guys hanging out on the street.
As I walked over to Charles car, feeling good, I opened the door and as I got in the passenger seat, I looked over and saw that he was wearing a jogging suit.
A jogging suit from… Old Navy.
I wanted to jump out of the car right then and there, but I felt paralyzed. As we drove to the restaurant and sat down to eat he was nice and funny but I couldn’t get over the jogging suit…from Old Navy.
I don’t know if I was staring at the Old Navy logo too much, but eventually he said
“I was going to wear a dress shirt and slacks, but I really didn’t feel like ironing today.”
I smiled politely and pushed my food around with my fork. I had no appetite.
As we drove back towards my apartment he says to me, “where did you get that dress?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well,” he pointed to the frayed edges “because it’s not finished.”
“It’s the style of the dress” I said flatly as I looked out the window, all the while wondering why I was explaining my fashion choices to someone in a jogging suit.
Then he said “Well… wherever you got it you should take it back.”
I turned to him and said “I’m sorry but, if I had known we were wearing PAJAMAS tonight, I would have dressed accordingly.”
We drove the rest of the way to my apartment in silence.
As we approached my corner he asked if I was upset, I told him that what he said was rude. Then I noticed that instead of pulling over for me to get out of the car he was attempting to Parallel Park. I asked him what he was doing and he said.
“Can’t I come up?”
He was shocked when I said "No".
Layer Three, gets you every time.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Waiting...
I arrived at the bus stop the other night with no question that the M7 bus would come. When an M10 pulled up, I waved the driver on with confidence. Though its route wasnt a straight shot, the M7 bus with its many twists and turns, would eventually take me exactly where I wanted to go.
So I waited.
Another bus came, an M10, I could take the M10 most of the way and with a brisk walk, reach my destination, faithful that the M7 I needed would soon be there, I shook my head giving the driver permission to go on without me.
I began to wonder what the delay was.
When yet another M10 bus stopped to let passengers off I contemplated getting on but didn't.
Knowing there was something that would give me exactly what I needed and take me exactly where I wanted to go made it hard for me to settle on a substitute. It made it difficult to consider another way, an alternate route.
As the minutes ticked by, thoughts of doubt began to trickle in. Has the bus stopped running? Am I at the wrong stop?
I walked out into the street to see if a bus was in the distance. The streets were empty with not even a taxi in sight.
I came to the bus stop with the intention of waiting for the M7 until it came. What I didnt realize was that i had a subconsious timecap on the busses arrival.
Sometimes the test of faith isnt believing something will happen but how long you can hold on to that belief and how open you are to the way it will take place.
Eventually I took the M10 and walked the rest of the way to my destination, I got to where I wanted to go just not the way I intended.
So I waited.
Another bus came, an M10, I could take the M10 most of the way and with a brisk walk, reach my destination, faithful that the M7 I needed would soon be there, I shook my head giving the driver permission to go on without me.
I began to wonder what the delay was.
When yet another M10 bus stopped to let passengers off I contemplated getting on but didn't.
Knowing there was something that would give me exactly what I needed and take me exactly where I wanted to go made it hard for me to settle on a substitute. It made it difficult to consider another way, an alternate route.
As the minutes ticked by, thoughts of doubt began to trickle in. Has the bus stopped running? Am I at the wrong stop?
I walked out into the street to see if a bus was in the distance. The streets were empty with not even a taxi in sight.
I came to the bus stop with the intention of waiting for the M7 until it came. What I didnt realize was that i had a subconsious timecap on the busses arrival.
Sometimes the test of faith isnt believing something will happen but how long you can hold on to that belief and how open you are to the way it will take place.
Eventually I took the M10 and walked the rest of the way to my destination, I got to where I wanted to go just not the way I intended.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
A first sip....
The first time I had wine I wasn’t particularly impressed. From then on, I would have a glass here or there but it was nothing I craved. Drinking more than a single glass of wine was not something I did.
Then, around the time I turned twenty, I had a glass of wine that changed my life it was a Cabernet and it was amazing.
For the first time in my life I wanted a second glass.
All this time I thought that I wasn’t a wine person, but it turned out I had just been drinking sub-par wines. It was then that I began to explore the types of wine that suited my palate.
In the same way that I went so long drinking a single glass of wine and never wanting more, I am the queen of first dates. I go on first dates all the time but when a guy calls for a second, I’m not interested.
Looking back, I suppose I could have forced second glasses of wine, but wine is meant to be enjoyed not suffered though so… wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?
I recently encountered the dating equivalent to my Catalyst Cabernet. I went on a date with a perfectly aged, full bodied, man with nutty overtones and he suited my palate perfectly.
Even after the first sip of wine there is always more to be discovered; an infusion that you didn’t notice before or combinations of food that bring out flavors you didn’t know were there.
All I can say is that the taste of my first date is still lingering and I can’t stop thinking of having second glass.
Then, around the time I turned twenty, I had a glass of wine that changed my life it was a Cabernet and it was amazing.
For the first time in my life I wanted a second glass.
All this time I thought that I wasn’t a wine person, but it turned out I had just been drinking sub-par wines. It was then that I began to explore the types of wine that suited my palate.
In the same way that I went so long drinking a single glass of wine and never wanting more, I am the queen of first dates. I go on first dates all the time but when a guy calls for a second, I’m not interested.
Looking back, I suppose I could have forced second glasses of wine, but wine is meant to be enjoyed not suffered though so… wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?
I recently encountered the dating equivalent to my Catalyst Cabernet. I went on a date with a perfectly aged, full bodied, man with nutty overtones and he suited my palate perfectly.
Even after the first sip of wine there is always more to be discovered; an infusion that you didn’t notice before or combinations of food that bring out flavors you didn’t know were there.
All I can say is that the taste of my first date is still lingering and I can’t stop thinking of having second glass.
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