I thought things were going well with my 'publishing guy'. We were exchanging e-mails. We'd gone on two dates. TWO! That's like automatic boyfriend status here in NYC where people say they're going to call and never do. When guys don't call or text after the second date happens, it feels like being dumped for the very first time - all over again. NYC people are true flakes to the nth degree.
So I sent my future boyfriend, 'publishing guy', another doodle. He liked it this time because it was a doodle of him and a pet parrot he once had, named Floozy Lee. Can a girl really love a guy who had a parrot as a pet? Either way, he bailed on me over the weekend. It was his mom's retirement party and he had to attend, which was completely understandable, but it's been four days and I haven't gotten an e-mail or a text since. I don't know about his future boyfriend potential anymore...
I went on a date over the weekend anyway. I met this funny, Greek guy through a friend and while I knew he was a bit of a party dude, I wasn't daunted. I saw "Party Dude" once over a month ago but he was traveling for work, so we weren't able to get together for a few weeks. He texted me randomly and asked if I wanted to go to the beach last Saturday. Hells yeah! Except the beach was by his parents house, in Far Rockaway, and I have to admit, it's kind of weird meeting a dude's parents on a second date. But they were sweet and nice and we had an amazing day on the beach which led to bar-hopping in Carroll Gardens after we got back to the city. Party Dude was a real old-fashioned gent who opened doors and picked up the tab everywhere we went. He was kind, genuine, amusing, and ... he lives by himself and has a car. My standards aren't very high, I'll admit. He's not very cute but there's something about him that's very attractive to me and if it weren't for the fact that he's 25, still does drugs, and has no interest in commitment, he might actually be date-able. Maybe.
He was even amused by my drunken antics. We were at the Tiki Hut on Smith Street and I made two alligator-shaped drink stirrers have sex with a mermaid. Then I dared him to steal glasses from another bar. We walked out, with our drinks in hand, and sat in some park to chill for a while. We left the glasses in the park after we finished, intending to come back from them later, but alas and alack, we forgot. I hope some hobo found them and put them to good use. The rest of the night was really fuzzy and I woke up in my bra and a pair of Party Dude's boxers. I guess he's not the only one who can party. Whoops.
I had a terrible hangover the next day and whiled away the time in bed watching episodes of The Biggest Loser, wishing I hadn't drank so much. What's happened to my 'publishing guy'? Frowny face.
