Allow me to introduce myself...

My friend “Date Me” asked me to start contributing to this here blog he had started. Like Date Me I’m hoping that writing in this blog will provide me with the ability to entertain some folks while I screw up, repair, lament over and eventually maybe figure out my love life. Unlike Date Me I’m not one to go through methods such as craigslist and rarely do I find myself struggling with the thought of what’s right or wrong. One of my strongest suits through life as well as my biggest fault is that I’m the type of guy up for adventure but often too chicken shit to spark the plan myself. Also I almost never leave Brooklyn.
This being the plan I will write about my encounters with women I meet through my traditional methods, picking them up at bars and shows/being picked up at bars/shows.
A good example of this was a recent Friday evening, having gotten a later start on the evening I found myself drinking with the most boring friends of a friend’s girlfriend ever. I stumbled out of a local watering hole, a few whiskey’s deep and looking for a cigarette. The first girl I asked for a cigarette offered me a rollie and while I rolled commented that she thought I was cute. Having heard this from time to time in my life I wasn’t shocked to hear it coming out of a seemingly attractive young blonde woman. I respond with a casual, “you’re not so bad yourself” and start conversation, quickly she invites me to join her and her friend at another bar just across the neighborhood. The short walk there included the typical small talk as well as a few pauses to make out.
Around 4 I do out my tab at this second bar, a whopping 6 dollars spent on 3 PBR, and meander outside to decide where my night is headed, I didn’t have to go home but I can’t stay here, Blondie’s friend says she really needs to use the bathroom and I offer a short stop at my office.
Once there, Blondie, the Tinkler and myself decide to grab some Sparks and a pack of cigarettes and hang out for a minute in my office. Stumbling from the couch to the restroom I realize the Tinkler not only didn’t flush the toilet(eww) but also left a used tampon on the floor of my office bathroom. Not the end of the world but certainly leaves me less interested in Blondie. We part ways around 7 and I go home for a brief but refreshing two hours of sleep.
I wake up Saturday to a nagging hangover and the remembrance that I agreed to hang out with Blondie that evening, I called her to let her know I wasn’t up for it that night and made plans for a drink Monday.
Monday rolls around and despite my best intentions we agree to meet at a bar near a recent ex’s house, an hour or so before I call for a change of venue and we meet up at a quiet place nearer to her home than mine. I arrive slightly before she does and order a bourbon, she arrives near the end of my drink and orders herself a “cheap beer” I agree, order one as well and pay for the round, she seems surprised that I bought the round.
My first thoughts are that this girl doesn’t expect people to pay for her which is nice but while looking at her in this thought I realized that maybe I had had a few more than I should have on Friday and not only is this girl not cute but there’s no way she could pass for the 24 year old(my age) she led me to believe she was, it’s later revealed she’s 28.
An hour of awkward and boring small talk ensues and I ask if she’d like a second drink, “I’m still working on this one, but you go ahead” she says and I order a second round.
At this point it’s getting close to 10:30 or so and I’ve realized not only do I find this poor girl horribly boring but she’s also revealed that she had lied to me about her age, her job and not that it matters anymore than the other two but about having graduated from college. I can’t find an out in the conversation but notice our drinks are both empty so I ask if she’d like another,

“If I have another I’ll be feeling a bit drunk and I can’t have that on a work night”.

Clearly this girl and I have very little in common, I am by no means an alcoholic but I do drink on a regular basis and someone who can’t have more than one drink on a week night is clearly not someone I could hang out with regularly.
I fumble with thoughts of an escape plan and finally blurt out “Well, it is getting kind of late I should be headed home” her response “do you want to go back to my place?”
Now I don’t think of myself as the type of guy that goes home with random women but I also have trouble being rude to women so once or twice I’ve found myself in a woman’s bedroom for lack of a decent escape route. This night was no different.
We walk the two blocks to her apartment over which she warns me that her room is a bit of a mess. That statement wouldn’t have more of an understatement if she had called the Iraq war a “small mistake” or the Melvins as “just a metal band”.
A mattress on the floor surrounded by used paper coffee cups, all of which were filled with cigarette butts. In the far corner next a dresser that’s falling apart and just the other side of a mound of laundry she claims to be clean but the scent of which screams otherwise is an overflowing cat box. I try my best to ignore the surroundings and mess around with this girl. All is going well until the middle of everything when she asks me if I’m going to spend the night, I claim an early meeting and hit the road as soon as I can.
This whole situation begs the question of why I let myself get into this sort of situation. I can’t really say, do I do it because I’m so starved for sex that I’m afraid I might not have the chance again for months? Do I do it simply so I can tell the story to the horrified faces of friends and relatives? Or do I do it because like everyone else I’m simply trying to find how I fit into the dating game? Whatever the case I always find myself at least fairly entertaining in retrospect and I hope you find it the same.

What just happened?

-15 minutes ago-

I am riding on the train back to my apartment and I am standing near the door listening to my ipod. Across from me, sitting down, is a younger good looking girl who has a smile on her face and earphones in. I naturally think she must be listening to something funny (Flight of the Conchords maybe?). I am tempted to ask but don't.
To the right of me, sitting a couple seats down is a younger guy with curly hair, tight black pants with a cuff, pretty clean and average looking. He has a rather stern look on his face which I noticed only briefly.
Occasionally while reading my book, I will look up and keep noticing the girl with a smile on her face, looking down into her lap. My stop comes, and stern faced indie guy stands next to me to get off, and flannel coat smiling girl also prepares to get off.
Stern Face walks quicker than me even though his stride is shorter (I walk casually and am in no rush) and goes up an early flight of steps. I am surprised to find Smiling Girl walking at a rather quick pace as well, passing me as we get to the turnstall. Smiling Girl is right in front of me walking up the steps, and while I am still interested in what she was smiling about, I have no intention of asking.

Outside. I see Stern Face walking a good half block ahead, and Smiling Girl a couple paces in front of me. She has a good pace going now, as do I. Before I know it, we are close to Stern Face and I see her reach her hand out and touch his shoulder. He jumps slightly out of surprise and has a confused look on his face. Then I see Smiling Girl put her index finger to her lips in a "shh" motion, and start to lean in towards his face! I pass them both right at this second and don't want to turn back and watch whatever just unfolded before my eyes. Did she really just approach a complete stranger and kiss him without a word?
I don't slow down but turn to cross the street, and glance back to see them following. I hear some laughs, possible talk about where each of them live on the block, and possibly an invite over? I paused my ipod at this moment because I wanted to be sure, but didn't hear anything else and didn't see either one of them at the next block.

But what happened just now could've been the hottest thing I have seen in a while. I think it trumps my missed connection story.

I once again feel...

slightly disappointed with progress on this blog. Things are continuing to go well with Sambas and that has severely hindered my ability to make posts about bad dates.

Why is it that the one time I want to write about my bad relationships I seem to fall into a good one?

Since the timing of my posts is messed up

My newest post is one below... or here: Lo and Behold

Hobos vs. Bums

To my surprise we continued talking [emailing], and she said she had a great time. I have to wonder if it is weird that our primary mode of conversation is via email. Is this the sign of the new generation? Online dating and missed connections using craigslist to avoid any kind of actual contact and rejection?

Hey... fine by me. My Onion Personals profile is still running strong.

Sambas is pretty great. We email each other random things; hers often dealing with art and mine mostly dealing with ridiculousness- Horse head man cooking wild mushrooms anyone?

Some days past and she lets me know about a documentary screening about hobo graffiti is happening in Brooklyn. Rumor is that there will be wine and cookies present. This is definitely not something I would ordinarily go to but it seems like a great event for a second meet [date?].

We meet at a mutual train stop and walk over to the screening. It is absolutely freezing out and I am so happy I wore thermal underwear. We both still have a cough and I get a flashback to my previous kissing dilemma.

We get inside and sit on padded benches. The room is pretty small and fills up quickly, forcing us to fit three people on a two-person seat. I grab some wine, popcorn, and cornbread (nice combo i know?) and sit. After a brief into, the movie starts.

The movie is shot on a vintage camera and has some beautiful shots from moving trains. The content is moderately interesting but drags on. At least I learned that one should not call a "Hobo" a "Bum" unless they want a toothless man all in their face. Luckily, since the movie was rather slow, it allowed for one of my favorite things to happen: She put her head on my shoulder. I feel like this small gesture shows that she is comfortable with me and perhaps affectionate. Or is this friend zone affection? Shit

The movie finished (thankfully for my back's sake) and after a brief round of questions and some whiskey spiked apple cider, we were free to roam the premesis. We ventured outside for 10 minutes to check out the bonfire. F that. It was freezing. People dwindled out and jazz played on a laptop. The lights were dim and we continued our conversation.

It seemed like a perfect time for a kiss, but there were people walking in and out so I didn't go for it. And soon, it seemed like the right time to leave [whiskey and cider were gone]. The cold was just as unforgiving as before and we looked for the closest restaurant to unwind and eat. I ordered the grilled cheese, and she the chicken noodle soup. People have asked if I have a problem with her not being a vegetarian, but I think most of the girls I have dated have not been vegetarians. Besides, she says she has long considered the dietary change, and maybe I could help with that? Most definitely.

After the bill, the night has ended once again and we walk underground and prepare to go our separate ways. It is a less than ideal situation for a first kiss, but I can't keep postponing it. "So..." I say as I inch closer to her. I slowly lean in and watch her body movement. Our mouths are inches apart but she slowly edges towards the side of my cheek with her face and says she doesn't want to get me sick. I whisper "I am not worried. My immune system rocks." We bring our faces back to proper alignment and let our lips linger barely touching. We kiss slowly, pause, and kiss again. I pull back and look at her, lean in and kiss her again. "Time to go to our trains" I say, and we turn and go in opposite directions.

I wonder if I should look back but I don't. That seems a bit too movie oriented.

I feel like everything went right. I get home, prepare for bed, and sleep comfortably. In the morning I check my email and see one from Sambas.

"Oh, [me]. le sigh." What the hell does that mean?!

Lo and Behold...

It is so close to Valentine's Day and I have the worst history with girls around this time. The past years I wanted to "have a valentine" the day of and have repeatedly screwed things up with potential interests.

Two years ago: Drunk hooking up with a younger friend and then holding her hair while she vomits. We talk and laugh about it but I try to ask her out anyway. Eventually ask her if she wants to be my valentine. Dead.

Three years ago: Hang out with a friend/roommate of another friend. We watch movies and kiss a couple times. I feel like that is enough precursor to be a valentine. Dead

Lets just say this is a recurring problem. So this year, instead of attempting to do something on Valentine's Day, I will have a casual dinner the night before with Sambas and not worry about the pressure put on me by Hallmark.

And yes I posted this after Valentines Day even though I had it written up beforehand. Fast forward to Monday, President's Day. The following events have occurred:

2/13/08 - Dinner with Sambas. Cooked an Italian based dinner, watched a movie, made out, walked Sambas to subway, separated.

2/14/08 - Valentines Day - Minor email conversations. Invite Sambas to watch LOST and she actually comes. She meets some friends, we watch LOST, intend to go walk around but it's too cold. We get on the train and it's clear we are not going back to my house together. We separate, I didn't kiss her it seemed awkward, I feel like I blew it.

2/15/08 - I continue to be semi-depressed (hey I predicted screwing it up so I was not too surprised). I get an email from Sambas that implies we are going to take our status to the next level and my worries fade away. I go out to drinks with coworkers, she eventually shows up with friends and everyone meets. We drink, talk, and go back to my house.

2/16/08 - Morning. She is here. I have a doctor's appointment so we split but all seems well and I invite her to a show/drinking later in the night. Samba's meets up with us at dinner (decent Mexican food in New York?) and we go to the show. Boredom comes quickly and we leave, go home, drink beer, watch a movie, go to bed.

2/17/08 - Morning... really early. She is here. I still have not gotten used to another person sleeping in my bed so I don't get very long periods of sleep. Samba's actually seems to like me (We get bagels, watch Food Network , eat delicious food cooked by roommate. I drink my first beer at 10:30AM but given how long I had already been awake it seems like an afternoon beer. I am not an alcoholic.
We eat and drink and go shopping for our Sunday dinner. Dinner prep and cleaning ensue. We drink, hang out with friends, and eat more delicious food. We watch American Gladiators and some of Knightrider [shit]. We go to my room and later watch part of Jumper.

2/18 - President's Day - Morning. She is here. It is 60 degrees outside in New York... in February. We have to go outside so we go to her house and she changes clothes. She sleeps on an air mattress. No wonder she likes staying over! We go to Chinatown and wander. It is clearly going to rain and my sweatshirt isn't going to do any good. We eat a very filling meal for around $5 each (why am I not going to Chinatown more?) and do some shopping at a grocery store. We drink boba tea. The rain ends things and we make our way to the subway. It is wet all over but I am feeling chipper from my day in Chinatown and the decent weather. As I walk down the steps one of my feet slips from under me. Four steps later I miraculously caught myself, laughed at my near-skull-shattering experience, and feel like the day shouldn't have ended any other way.

I begin to realize how bizarre, yet great, Samba's and my situation is. I started this blog with the intention of writing about my failed dates and my awkward Onion Personals conversations (which are still happening every once in a while), and the first move [pathetic at best with a craigslist missed connections post] I make ends up with a developing relationship. I don't mind. This is fun.

Should I have gone for a kiss or not?

What is the etiquette on kissing when both parties are sick and on the first date?

Conversation, Coughing, & Karaoke

[this is the third post in an ongoing story. begin from the start]

Conversation went surprisingly easy and fluid. I joked about my mustache and the fact that we met via Missed Connections. I learned that she has a brother, is from Miami, and (possibly best of all) loves Arrested Development and Seinfeld and Curb. I am not saying that I have not come across girls with these same tastes, but those that can hang while I throw out subtle quotes from the shows are few and far between.

She likes whiskey and tequila, sometimes beer. She has only been in the city for a month and interns at an art gallery. To make ends meet she works some jobs on the side for companies based in Florida. She lives in Brooklyn surrounded by her "eses/homies/cholos" (did I mention she was Hispanic?).

An hour or more passed before hunger started to catch on. The two soy nuggets I ate while rushing out the door did nothing for me. We decided to go to a nearby bar for some pizza and to watch (not sing) karaoke.

With a tequila for her and a beer for me, we eat, watch drunk girls scream and dance [poorly] and look through the song-book. The night was clearly winding down, so we left and walked to the subway. With a slightly awkward hug in my mind and the suggestion that we hang out again soon, we broke apart and walked to our separate trains.

Tea and Sambas

So I went on a date with this girl... last night.

8:08PM- eight minutes after our scheduled meeting time at a tea house in Brooklyn. Sambas has not arrived yet and I get seated by the waitress and asked if I want to order anything. I politely decline and say I'm waiting for someone.

I pour room-temperature water from a wine bottle and text my coworker/"dating coach" She's not here yet! She tries to comfort me and says that attractive women take a long time to get ready. She says I should take the time to think of witty greetings. This doesn't comfort me. I ask for suggestions but don't hear back. Shit.

My nervousness gets the better of me and I text Sambas. "I have arrived," I say and sit back feeling that this will show whether or not she is coming. Could I really get stood up? Hell, the cafe is so dim I doubt I would recognize her if she was even inside already. I have to look at the shoes of every girl that walks by just to be sure.

8:12PM - My phone lights up and alerts me to a new text message. Hey the train is taking forever! @ [subway stop]

That is a sigh of relief. All I do now is sit back, look awkward wearing my beanie indoors, and reread the menu 20 times.

8:23PM - The waitress asks if I want to order anything again. I say I am waiting for somebody. She likely thinks I am being stood up.

I continue to look up at the door every 15 seconds. The menu is boring, I can not stay focused on it. What if this is all one big game? She is back at her apartment laughing with her friends while I sit confused at a teahouse that has crappy food. Wow I've become extremely pessimistic and paranoid. I shake the thoughts from my head.

I start pulling at my mustache. Why do I still have this thing?

8:31PM - I hear the door once more but didn't see anybody. When sitting the counter is blocking my view. A few seconds that seem like minutes (30 minutes) pass and I see a head over the counter, which then turns into a body, and then a smile.

I check the shoes to be sure. It is her.

No way...

My throat was hurting all day and I felt on the cusp of sickness. Unfortunately I had neither soup nor juice at home. This was a problem with an easy solution: Trader Joes!

I went to Trader Joe's, and like any other night I stared numbingly at the line wrapping around the store.

"Whatever," I told myself, and made my rounds picking up bread, bananas, and then making my way to the crowded soup, pasta, and canned food isle.

While comparing the difference between a vegetable cream soup and a vegetable bisque, I noticed something that normally doesn't surprise me as much as this did: A beautiful girl.

She was tall, thin, lovely dark skin and hair, jeans and an overcoat. Very casual but stunning.

The real thing that caught my eye were her shoes. Sambas! "If only I was wearing my Sambas" I kept repeating to myself in my head. "If I only I was wearing my Sambas, I could talk to this girl." Why I felt like I couldn't talk to her without the shoes I do not know.

I could hardly take my eyes off her but knew I had to get in line and slowly make my way to the cashiers. I got in line, picked up some cheese and other items, and continued to look for her out of the corner of my eye. Finally, I spot her looking confused/lost around the cereal and yogurt. She makes her way to near me and reaches for some orange juice. A second or two later I do the same thing, and we make brief eye contact.

Ugh. I can't believe I still have this mustache. I must look ridiculous.

Another ten minutes go by and I am at a register. I haven't seen her since our encounter near the orange juice, and I try to get a glance of her again before exiting the store. Another brief moment of eye contact is all I crave.

Alas, she is hidden in a sea of people.

Sambas, Sambas, Sambas. Why am I so fixated on these shoes now?

I go home, unpack my groceries and power up my computer.

I wonder if I am going to be this lost with attractive strangers for the years to come? Sure there are lots of things that restrain me from saying anything to random people, but they are lame excuses.

I decide that I should do something that I have never done before. Doing this will be another step (in addition to this blog.. and Onion Personals) to becoming different.

So I type in the web address, go to the appropriate section, and click Post.

Yes! I am going to post a Missed Connection.

I am sure there was no connection in her eyes. I mean, I hardly even smiled when we came close to one another. It's nothing like I frequently read about. I didn't pick up an item she dropped on the ground and smile while handing it back. I didn't hold open the subway doors to let her catch the train.

But whatever. I don't expect any kind of response from this. If anything, this will hopefully bring some amusement to the bored New Yorkers who browse craigslist for connections they could be in or in the vicinity of. Hell, they usually amuse me.

I replay the encounter in my head and write out the things that were in my head most frequently. I agree to the terms and post. I check my email and publish.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/563020889.html

I feel better now that I did something more than I usually do. I have never posted a missed connection before but this seemed like a good opportunity to do so. She wouldn't see it and even if she did, it's doubtful she would remember a guy with a mustache. Most likely has a boyfriend and if she sees the post, she'll be flattered and show it to him and they'll have a good laugh over it.

My head is more clear now, and I decide to watch Cloverfield. The quality isn't great, but I will watch a better quality copy when one comes out.

...

Short movie, but not bad.

I go back to my computer and am ready to do about an hour of browsing the internet.

In my gmail it shows Inbox (1). I get my delete finger ready.

And there I see the Title.

yes! you posted a missed connection!

No way...