MTB

AJ and I set a date to grab a drink after work almost two weeks in advance.  He works by where I live, so that worked out well.

There was so much time until we actually met that I squeezed in seeing Holden Caulfield twice before I met AJ for drinks.

The dreaded day came and I contemplated canceling many, many times because I just knew I was not attracted to AJ and that it wouldn’t work.

So, the day before I didn’t hear from AJ.  I wondered if he forgot.  Then, that morning, I still didn’t hear from him, and I finally heard from him around 2pm. (There was some on and off texting before but nothing at all interesting.)

AJ:  How does 7.15/7.30 suit at stag.

[I attribute his use of periods for colons to his Australian-ness, along with his use of “suit”.  I think there was a typo in there, too.)

Me:  Hey, AJ!  Yeah that works!

AJ: [a little later] 7.30 would be great.

Me:  Ok, sure.  See you then.

Before I met AJ, Holden Caulfield contacted me and we texted for a bit.  He had just gone shopping and wanted to me to go over so he could show me his new snowboarding gear.

Yes!  This was my perfect exit plan.

I got to Stag’s Head before AJ arrived and got a little table upstairs.  AJ arrived — it was brutally cold and windy that day.  He was sniffling up a storm when he sat down, which I found to be a little annoying because I just wanted him to excuse himself and go blow his nose, but he insisted on sitting there, sniffling and sniffling.

I told him immediately that I had to leave to go “meet my friends” downtown at 9:30.  I told him this because I didn’t think it would be a nice thing to do to actually be honest about going to see a different guy that I’m interested in.  He says, “Oh, I live downtown, where are you going?”  I had to make up something and I really don’t like lying.

But, I wanted to give AJ a chance, so I didn’t cancel and came out to meet him.

It wasn’t a terrible date.  By any means.  I think we had great conversation and I think he thought we did too.  The main topic of conversation was about his life as an investment banker.  Having lived in the City for 10 years+, I have gone on many dates with investment bankers.

AJ insisted on changing the subject because he thought the topic was incredibly boring, but I think it’s interesting and I really wanted to hear more about what investment bankers do hour by hour, minute by minute.

He had some great stories and painted a good picture of the job.

Then, we started talking more about Australia, since I had the great opportunity of traveling there two years ago and have some relatives that live there, as well.

But, alas, our time came to an end and I had to go see HC’s new snowboarding gear.

AJ hailed a taxi for me and he was on his way to visit a friend who’s wife was traveling and was enjoying some “freedom.”

Before I got to HC’s, I picked up a pack of Stella Artois.  That’s the Korean in me, I just can’t show up to someone’s place empty-handed.

I got to HC’s, presented him with the beer, and he says, “Perfect!  Check it out.  (Opens the fridge, and there is another pack and a half of Stella in there and just about the only thing in the fridge.)”

Holden Caulfield showed me his gear.  Apparently he is a really good snowboarder and not afraid to tell me.  And that highlights an interesting thing about a lot of men.  Sometimes they are not afraid to let you know they are good at some things.  Ego.

But, at the same time, I found this self-confidence to be attractive, especially when HC delivers it well, with his amusing charm.

He made me try on his new goggles:

See?  I don’t make this s**t up.

I didn’t stay long.   But it was fun.

Aww, look at Adam Scott with his bud Jason Day!

Last Friday night Holden Caulfield invited me to go to a Rutgers University football game on Saturday.  He said he needed to pick some things up at his dad’s house then we could head to the game.

Me:  We’re going to your dad’s house?  Does that mean I’ll meet your dad and step-mom? . . . (I felt very hesitant about this. . . )

HC:  Well, they probably won’t be home.  It shouldn’t be a problem.

. . .

. . .

He is right, it’s not a big deal but not something I expected to do the second time I hang out with HC.

It a bit of a last minute invitation and had some things planned for my Saturday so after some thinking I decided to go.  Why not?

He went out for a friend’s birthday on Friday night so he asked me to give him a wake-up call a half hour before I was going to meet him.

He offered to pick me up again, then drive into NJ.  I reassured him I could make my way over to his apartment early in the morning (9:30am).  But, I did think it was sweet that he offered to pick me up.  I just thought it didn’t make sense logistically.  (See?  I can be very sensible.  The guy I dated over the summer told me this all the time.)

The next morning I was obedient and called him at 9am.  He was still sleeping and my call woke him up.

I got to his place.  This is the place he told me he was moving into, a couple of entries ago.

Total bachelor pad.  Probably about half the size of my apartment and my apartment is 700 sq ft.  Not all moved in, stuff still in boxes.  Two large TVs mounted on the walls of his living room and bedroom.  Half of a sectional, a partial delivery.  (I take a deep breath)

So I thought to myself:  “Ok, I’m going to be open-minded.  Afterall, didn’t I offer to help him decorate?”

I couldn’t help but note the 10 year age difference in many instances.  While I was sitting in HC’s apartment, he showed me some things like his TV and some other electronic gadgets.

HC:  [as he shows me. . . ]  That’s so chill isn’t it?

Me: Yeah.  [Very emphatically, nodding my head, even though I have no idea what exactly “chill” is slang for.  Is it “cool”?]

Additionally, I looked at what he was wearing and he is definitely of the next generation:  his jeans were tighter than guys in my generation.  A tell-tale sign.

Later in the conversation at his place. . .

HC:  What time did you get up this morning?

Me:  Early.  Like 7:30.

HC:  Oh.  Like old people get up early.  [Smiling at me]

First old joke of the day.  Zing!

Siiiigh.  This is going to be a long day.  Plus, I wasn’t feeling completely recovered from the cold I came down with the day we went out for our first date.

On the car ride into NJ, we talked about a bunch of things.  Family, etc.  It came up that his dad is a guitarist.  (Wow, cool!)  But, he also has a family busy.  (Also, cool.  Wait, I mean so chill. . . )

He asked me if I played any music.

Of course.  I’m Korean American:  the piano.  I can strum the guitar.  Then, I reciprocated the question.

HC:  I play a little of this and that.  I played a little clarinet.  I little of other things.

He told me more about his dad.  How he traveled the world, touring for his band, and how HC went to different countries to see his dad’s band play.

This sparked my curiosity. . .

Me:  So, what band is your dad in?  [Inquisitively.  And I am scouring my brain to think of NJ bands that are popular enough to tour the world and would be in his dad’s age bracket — Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band?  Bon Jovi?  Nah, they are too young.  No others come to mind.]

HC:  He was in a band called the ____.  They played at Clinton’s inaugural balls, here, here’s what they sound like.

And they are blues cover songs and music but it is good.  I’m still impressed.  I love musicians.

. . .

As we drove into NJ, HC was a great tour guide.  He drove through Rutgers, wait, New Brunswick (right?), and showed me things.  The places he lived while he was in college, old bars he used to hang out with.  So, so sweet.  I love those things.  Nostalgia.  I can tell HC is a sentimental person and I definitely appreciate that because I am too.

We stopped at a cute breakfast place he used to love in college and had a quick bite to eat.  We parked in his usual spot and had to walk about a bit to the stadium.  He told me we had to walk into the next town.  Parsippany?  P_____?  Not sure.

It was a bit of a walk, but it was such a nice fall day, I didn’t mind.

HC bought some tickets off some scalpers and we were all set to watch the game.

HC:  Did you know that Rutgers is the birthplace of college football?

Me:  No, I didn’t!

HC:  Yeah, they even have a place where it says it in the stadium.  [Ok, if you say so.  And indeed, it is true.  They have those exact words painted in the stadium.]

On the walk over to the stadium, HC was an incredible gentlemen.  We had to walk closely along the side of the road and he quickly made sure I was on the inside.  All through the day, HC made sure the temperature was right for me in the car, that I had enough water, that I wasn’t hungry or needed a coffee.

As we were walking, he looked over at me, took a deep breath, exhaled, and raised his eyebrows,  and said, “It’s going to be a long game.  You got your Depends on?”

Sigh.  Second old joke.  But don’t worry, HC makes jokes about how young he is too as he tells me about his college town and says it was just last year these things happened.  [OMG please don’t tell me it was last year! — Don’t worry, it wasn’t last year]

Me:  It’s a good thing you have good delivery.  Otherwise, your ‘old’ jokes would suck.

We found our seats and HC asked me if I brought my shades.  I told him I left them at my sister’s and didn’t have them on me so he insisted I wear his.  Especially since the scoreboard was in front of the sun.

Me:  No no no, you wear them!  It’s ok.  I can deal.

HC:  No, it’s ok!  I have thick eyebrows.  [That made me smile]

There was a little bit of back and forth.

Periodically, I tried to give back his sunglasses and he always refused.  Later, the sun hid behind the clouds and I gave back his sunglasses and he accepted.  Then, the sun came back out and he immediately made me wear his sunglasses again.

It was 4 minutes until halftime and the Scarlet Knights were very badly losing (38-7) so HC wanted to get outta there.

We split.  Got to his car then headed to his dad’s house to pick up some things.

We got there and there was no one home.  Thank God.  Holden Caulfield showed me around.  Showed me the expansion they did, the deck he helped install.  I love these things.

HC got me a water and we had a seat in the living room.  Since his dad is a guitar player so there are a ton of nice guitars around.

HC picked up a guitar and started jamming on it.  He’s a great guitar player.

Me:  Why didn’t you list ‘guitar’ as one of the instruments you play?!

HC shrugs his shoulders.  Smiled.

He keeps jamming and jamming and I can’t help but fantasize about singing to songs he is playing on the guitar.  But, I didn’t say anything about my love for singing because I was afraid he’d put me on the spot.  But I suppose I could have brought it on.  No, I know I could have.

Eventually, his step mom came home.  We shook hands, blah blah.  She was a really nice woman.

Then, his dad comes home and he looks like an older version of HC.  And I couldn’t help but think that they are looking at me and thinking, “Why is this old girl interested in our son??”

His dad was really nice.  Started immediately playing the guitar too.  I thought that was so sweet.

And eventually, HC got the things he came for.  And showed me the basement where the band practices.  It’s like paradise.  I would love to sing with their band and rock out with them.

We left the house and said our salutations and pleasantries.

As we drove back, we were clearly tired.  HC — because he didn’t sleep much last night and me, because I am feeling under the weather.  I fell asleep in the car for a few minutes and he sweetly encouraged me to sleep more.  I can’t help but fall asleep in moving vehicles.  My brother likes to tease me about that.

We got back into the City and Holden Caulfield was trying to think of the best way to drop me off at home but he was in a rush to meet his friend back at his place and eventually his dad and step-mom because they were going to a concert.  (He goes to concerts with his dad :))

I told him not to worry about me that I’d make my way back home from his place via subway.  That is normal, after all, but I appreciate his gesture of taking me home.

We arrived at his place.  We got out the car.  His friend had driven up right behind us.  We gave each other a kiss on the cheek and I went home.

When I got out of the subway, I got this text from HC:  “:) 🙂 🙂 :)”

I got home and felt terribly lonely.  HC is 10 years younger than me.  This will never work out.  And I couldn’t help but cry a little about it.

. . .

. . .

I’m just going to pretend I am this glass globe:

The next day, I had a second date with Marathon Man.

MM gave me three choices of restaurants: two that were in the West Village again, one of those was a Korean restaurant and the other an Italian wine bar, the third choice was a tapas place in the Flatiron District.

I told him I eat Korean all the time so I’d like to do something different.  Marathon Man decided to go with the Aria and I thought that would be fine.  That morning, I looked it up on the map and saw that it was just a street away from the last place we went to.

Ok, so Aria was fine and nice.  It was actually really packed and I had to sit really close to MM, right next to him, at a high top table.

After having gone out with Holden Caulfield the night before, I found Marathon Man to be a little bland . . . well. . . maybe bland is a little too strong of a word, but Marathon Man told me story after story that were not very exciting, didn’t have much funniness to it, and were long.

We split a bottle of wine and got a few different dishes.  It was a nice and light meal, considering it was Italian.  We stayed away from the pasta.

He asked me the quintessential date question, “So if you could do anything for a job, what would you do?” (Sigh, this again?)

I told him I wanted to be a jazz singer because I love singing.  And before I could tell him much about it and why I want to be that, he told me about his ex-girlfriend who randomly auditioned for “Miss Saigon” and was Lea Salonga’s alternate and blah, blah, blah.  Marathon Man, why would I care about this story about your ex-girlriend?  BO-RING.  Strike One.

Me:  So what’s yours?

MM:  I’d want to do something that intersects healthcare and technology that will help people.

Me:  Isn’t that what you do already?

MM:  No.  (He works in IT at a bank)

Me:  Oh, isn’t that what you said would be the next job you look for?  (Yes, he told me that last time)

MM:  Yeah.

Me:  No, you have to pick something that is not realistic or feasible for you right now.  Or maybe unattainable.

MM:  Oh, oh, OK.  Then I’d be a trail guide.

Me:  Yeah, much better.

We keep conversation going.  That wasn’t hard to do at all and it was natural.  But, we talked very much about the same things we did on our first date:  fitness, nutrition, exercise.

Me:  I wish I had gotten into athletics more. I think I missed the boat on that.

MM:  Well, you seem athletic.

Me:  Yeah, well, I think I have good coordination and agility but I just need someone to push me.

MM points to himself.

MM:  I’m very impressed you have a bike trainer set up already in your place.

Me:  (I spared him the story that my ex-boyfriend got me into biking)  Yeah, well, I do it more for the purpose of vanity.  After I bought it and biked on it consistently I found that it really toned my legs and butt.

MM:  Well it’s working.

. . .

. . .

Me:  Well, thanks.  (But I’m wondering how he would even know how toned my legs and butt are when this is the second time seeing him, fully clothed)

MM:  You look nice by the way.

That night I decided to wear a mini skirt with a black top and suede wedge booties.

We talked a bit more and the topic of celebrity came up.  Marathon Man started telling me about another ex-girlfriend who did makeup for some celebrities.  Come on, MM.  This is your second story about your ex-girlfriends.  We are not on the topic of exes.  Strike Two.

Like I said in the last post, I wasn’t feeling well, which I forewarned Marathon Man that morning.  He told me to continuously take vitamin C and that too much wouldn’t hurt.  It was getting close to 9pm and earlier he had suggested we quickly finish our wine and go to a second bar.  I had said yes to this before, but then I changed my mind and told him I thought I should head home early.  All I could think about was how nice it would be to be in my PJs and in bed.

MM:  Aw, really?

Me:  Yeah.

MM:  But it’s so early.  Come on.  Just one more drink.

Me:  Hmm. . .

. . .

Me:  Ok, well, maybe just one drink.  Well, maybe I’ll go to another bar but not have a drink.  (Sometimes I have a hard time saying no)

MM:  Ok, great!  Let’s go to the Upholstery Room.  They have a great back room we can have to ourselves.

And I know now why he wanted us to have the back room to ourselves.  We got there and we split a glass of wine and suddenly it was like Marathon Man became Octopus Man because his hands were all over me as if he had eight of them.

He also suggested he come home with me.  Strike Three.  I wasn’t able to say no to going to the 2nd bar but I definitely said no to this.

I think I need to start going to the driving range.

I was so right.

After a little bit of internal debate, I decided to meet Holden Caulfield for a drink the other night.

He texted me the night before:

HC:  Hey lookin forward to tomorrow, is like 9:30 okay?  I can pick you up wherever you are so you don’t have to worry about getting anywhere

Me:  Sure!  (But a little confused) What do you mean pick me up?  Like in a car?  (See, in the City, you usually just go out and meet men on dates.  Most of the time, they don’t offer to pick you up.  And although I lived in Minneapolis and dated a bit there, where the men would drive and pick you up in cars, this is still surprising to me since I identify with dating mostly in NYC.  The only other men who picked me up in their cars was 1) a millionaire who had sold his startup and told me how much money he made from it and 2) My Mr. Big (MMB) who I dated over the summer and drove an M5)

HC:  Yep

Me:  Oh wow, that would be so nice of you!!

HC:  Cool 🙂 see you tomorrow!

The next day I wasn’t feeling very well and could feel a cold coming on (itchy throat and ears) so I texted Holden Caulfield. . .

Me:  hey there are you available for drinks on Friday instead of tonight?  I developed a sore throat and would like to get to bed early.

HC:  No problem Friday I have my friends bday dinner and will meet you after.  But aww man was excited to see you.  Feel better and hopefully we can chill Friday if not brunch Saturday!

Me:  Hm well I can go out tonight but just not stay out too late?  (I just wanted to get the date done and over with)

HC:  Yea take a nap and lets just meet for a bit I won’t keep you up late promise.  We can go somewhere close to you

So, Holden Caulfield was a half hour late to pick me up.  I have a sore throat, I’m tired.  I’m not happy about this.

HC was really apologetic and nice and normal.  But he pulled up in a car service car, which was not what I expected.  He explained that he does have a car that he keeps in the City but didn’t want to bring it out.  I didn’t want to engage in too much conversation in the car in front of the driver because I just felt embarrassed that I was going out with this guy I met once, randomly on Thompson Street.

We arrived at a cute little wine bar just 5 blocks up from me.  I had no idea this place existed.  HC picked it out.

So, we sat at the bar and debated sharing a bottle of wine.  It’s already past 10pm.  We got a bottle of red wine.

We engaged in some normal conversation, catching each other up on our life events over the past month and a half since we met.  He told me about the work he does and I told him about mine.  HC works in the world of finance.  Go figure.  But the work he does is cool and on the cutting edge.  And he loves what he does so I found that to be very refreshing and nice to listen to.

Then. . .

HC:  So, when did you move to the City?

. . .

. . .I’m staring blankly at him. . .

. . .

Me:  (meekly) I think I’m a little older —

But before I can finish, HC interrupts me  —

HC:  I know.  (Nonchalantly)

Me:  I’m older than I think you think I am.

HC:  I knew you were older.  I don’t care.

. . .

Me:  Ok, I moved to the City in 1998.  (And I cringe, slightly)

HC:  I don’t care.  I have friends that are older than me.  “So-and-so”, my good friend is like 37.  Except for my high school friends I have a ton of friends in their 30s.

Me:  Are you even 30 yet?

. . .

. . .

HC:  (smiling) Almost.

But as we are talking, we’re joking and laughing and HC is cracking jokes left and right about this whole age thing.  And his sense of humor is good:  witty, light, jovial.  Just trying to make light of the situation so I don’t feel awkward.  Just being very considerate of my feelings.

HC:  I was thinking to myself — “Oh in 1998, well I graduated high school in 2004. . . ”

OMG, he graduated high school in 2004.

HC:  But then I thought, “OH wait. . .”

So, we’re sitting there laughing and I’m still feeling a little uncomfortable, and HC can sense this so he says. . . “The only way to make this better is to just make out right now.”

We laugh more.  I’m not making out with him at the bar.

HC says, “I like your laugh”

Me:  (I stop in my tracks, tilt my head sideways, and sincerely) Thanks.  [Smile]

We carried on with the wine and talked about all kinds of things.  His sense of humor was on the same wavelength as mine and he seemed so happy-go-lucky.  Not jaded.  Not cynical.  Not resentful.  Nothing like the 40+ year old men I’ve dated.  Just so refreshing. . .

HC:  Your hair looks different than when we met.

Me:  Yeah, I straightened it.  It was curled that night.

HC:  (very matter of fact)  I like it.

Then somehow we got into vacation spots.

He loves the beach.  So do I.

HC loves Hawaii.  So do I.

HC grew up surfing.  OMG.  I started surfing 9 years ago.  Music to my ears.

HC:  Can you surf waves that are around 4′?

Me:  Biggest waves I’ve surfed were around shoulder height.

HC:  That’s not bad.  Maybe about 5′.

Me:  Occasionally I’ll go smell my wetsuits in my closet because I miss the beach, water, and waves.

(Oh no, maybe that made me sound like a weirdo).

It was time to head home.  It was getting late and I was out later than I wanted to be, though we were having fun.  I suppose all good things must come to an end.

Holden Caulfield walked me home.

Smile, Adam!

HC:  [Via text]  What night do I get to take you out this week?

. . . that was at 7:53pm.  I was about to jump on my bike and try to get in a work out since I spent the weekend eating a ton of empty calories at my sister’s.

So, I didn’t immediately respond.

At 9:37. . .

HC:  Hope you are well.  Just finished a soccer game last one of season.

Me:  Hey, ____!  Oh cool!

HC:  [Emoticon with tongue sticking out]  There she is.

Me:  Hmmm, need to see about this week.  Sorry I just biked and worked out.  🙂  Maybe Wednesday?

HC:  Nice, ahh was hopin you would say any night but Wednesday, got my only other date with a special lady that night.

Me:  Um ok.

HC:  My mom silly!!!!!!! (That’s SEVEN exclamation points.)  We will be early so maybe I can meet you after what do you think

Me:  Haha.  I thought you might say that.  Yeah, that’s good actually.  Then I can work out after work.

Then, I see that Holden Caulfield is calling me.  I have to admit ignoring the call crossed my mind. . . I answer, and Holden is super sweet.  Asked me how my weekends have been since we last texted, told me about his life, then set a time to meet up on Wednesday.

And I can just tell he has got to be at least 10 years younger than I am.  I can hear it in the way he talks.  And, when we met, he told me he lived in NJ for “a couple of years” after college, then moved to the West Village and has been living there for “a couple of years”.

Homeboy has gotta be under 30.

Sigh.

Look!  Adam Scott likes kids!  And maybe Asian women, too!

I’m a little behind on my updates.

I’m sort of assuming you have been reading and are keeping up.  If you don’t know who Holden Caulfield is (yes, aside from the literary character from one of my favorite books), you will just have to read the earlier post titled, “Holden Caulfield.”

Two Fridays ago, I got a text from Holden Caulfield.  I was pretty surprised.  I thought I’d never hear from him again.

HC:  Hi, how are you?  Hope you are doing well.  And not falling down any steps. [emoticon with tongue sticking out]

Me:  I haven’t fallen down any steps!  But if I did you’d be there right??  How have you been ___?

HC:  If you fall I will catch I will be waiting [music emoticons] Time after time. . .

And we continue our banter via text as Holden Caulfield is updating me about his life I know very little about via text, he slips in:

HC:  And excited to meet up with you soon.

And a bit more of back and forth.  I’m waiting for him to take initiative, be a bit more assertive.  And alas, he says:

HC:  Cool lets be in touch let me know next time you are out on the town with your girls (See, I had invited him to come meet me and girlfriends out once)

Me:  Ok sure.  But FYI you are allowed to hang out with me one on one.

HC:  That all sounds excellent.  We will def hang in NYC soon.  (As opposed to a different city than where we both reside??)

Then Holden Caulfield proceeds to tell me how he’s moving and has a month left on his lease and if I know of anyone who would want a one month sublet.  Dude, I don’t even know if I remember what you look like.

Let’s see what he comes up with next.  Stay tuned.

Look!  Adam Scott has a new cover photo on his Facebook fan page.

I met Marathon Man (MM) out the other night for drinks, three days after he ran the NYC marathon.

MM is about 45 years old, balding and just about all grey, originally from NJ, maybe around 5’11” (maybe), and works in IT  at a bank on Wall Street.  I wore flat boots out to meet him because I knew he wasn’t very tall.

Marathon Man and I had some really normal conversation.  What a breath of fresh air.  Though he, on occasion, interrupted me mid-response to his questions to tell me his stories, I thought the night was pretty normal.  As I mentioned before, men typically like to talk about themselves or at least tell you all the things they know.

I met him at 7:00, at a wine bar in the West Village.  Somehow he knew I love that area.  The next thing we knew, it was 9pm.

We talked a lot about exercise and nutrition, two big things I am trying to focus more on lately. I told him I was thinking about going gluten-free, biking and running more, and various other things.  He told me he will be doing his first Iron Man next year.

Ok, that’s pretty cool.  He is way more fit than the man I dated for over two months last summer who broke up with me via email (I am referring to My Mr. Big (MMB), who I will tell you about another time).

Marathon Man suggested we grab another drink at another bar.  We walked a couple blocks down and around the corner.  I picked out a sour ale to drink and he followed suit.

MM majored in physics in college.

Me:  Physics was actually one of my favorite subjects in college.

MM:  No way, really?  Once I tell women that I majored in Physics, the conversation usually comes to a halt.

Me:  No way.  I love it.  I used to love hearing about how some people do their theses on trying to find monopoles.

MM:  Let me show you the nerdiest app I have.  [Searches through his phone. . . ]  See, you can look at the information on every kind of subatomic particle there is.

I take his phone and look through cartoon figures of muons, leptons, neutrinos, etc. and tap on them to read about them.

Me:  This is so cool!!

NERDVILLE.

It was time to head home.  Marathon man walked me to the corner and hailed me a cab.

Next day around noon. . .

MM: [via text]  I had a great time last night.  🙂

Adam Scott has a new cover photo on Facebook:

I met AJ on a night when Snap was looking for trouble.  And according to Snap, “trouble” equals a “body.”  And a body only.  That evening Snap didn’t need a personality, brains, or even someone to talk to.  Just the body.

But before I continue, I should say that it was really Snap who was looking for this “trouble.”  I played the innocent accomplice.  Perhaps with a bit of instigator mixed in.

Before I met these two out, My Pride & Joy (MPJ) invited me to a college party up at Columbia University.  I politely declined but MPJ told me that a bunch of 22 year olds would be ready and willing to meet a bunch of cougars out on the town.  That makes me feel uncomfortable.

I brought up the idea of going to the Columbia party to both Junior and Snap, just for shits and grins, but they didn’t want any part of it.  The thought of mingling with 22 year olds made them queasy.

We had a drink at a bar in TriBeCa while Junior and Snap caught me up on the couple they were watching from across the room, which they thought was a Match.com meeting.  Apparently the guy caught on that he was being watched and was displaying all the body language that an interested girl did not want to see.

AJ came up to the bar and ordered a drink right in front of me and we engaged in conversation.  AJ wasn’t shy.  He quite casually had a normal conversation with me.  He is from Australia.  Works at a major bank in the City.  Probably in his mid-30s.  So, AJ proceeded to get his drink, offered to buy me one, paid for his drinks, then politely excused himself to get back to his friends.

Junior, Snap, and I were really hungry so we decided to bounce.  But before I left, AJ caught up to me and asked me for my number.  Back in my early 20’s, after a few different bad experiences, I had a hard and fast rule of not giving out my number to men I meet out.  I would rather take theirs.  That rule is null and void now.

I gave AJ my number.

We got to a cute corner Italian restaurant, still in TriBeCa, and we sat at a high top table.  Immediately, I spotted a table of three seemingly nice and handsome men and told Junior and Snap about it.  Three of them.  Three of us.  Snap told me to make it happen.

So, after we got our wine and some food, I walked over to the table of three men and asked them if I could sit down.  They were a little surprised that I asked them and the looks on their faces said, “Is this girl hitting on us?”

Well, I wasn’t exactly hitting on them but said, “My girlfriends over there want to meet you.”

So I talked to them a bit.  I asked them if they worked in finance and they said no and tried to tell me that one of them was a CIA agent and that they did other kinds of work but, alas, I was right.  They were all investment bankers.  Two of them played football at UPenn, one of who was from St. Paul.  This one got up and started talking to Junior and Snap.  I thought he had a little bit of game.  I stayed at the table and talked to the other two.

It was clear that this was going to be a great opportunity for Snap.  The three guys happened to live together and just around the corner so they awkwardly invited us to come over.

I can’t believe we went over to their loft.  And what a filthy loft it was.  Total bachelor pad.

And all this time, we were wondering how old they are.

The two guys that Junior and I claimed did not even pay attention to us.  They were off in their rooms doing things.

Junior and I were itching to get the hayll outta there, so we bailed and left Snap so she could hang out more.

I got home and saw this text message from AJ:  “Hey here’s my number it was nice to meet you tonight.  You’re tall and gorgeous.”

Later I heard from Junior that after we left that God awful loft, Snap asked her guy how old he is.  He said 22.  She promptly left.

Oh, the irony.

Here’s Adam Scott lookin’ all dapper.

I decided I needed to be more open about meeting people in other geographic locations, outside of NYC.  Why?  Well, it just opens up opportunity, right?  I mean, people do long distance all the time and if it’s something worth fighting for, it will work.  At least, that’s what I believe.

I met a guy in the Philly area since I go to the area almost every 3 weeks now.

We texted for a bit before I met him and he told me he’d call me and didn’t.  Then said he would call me the next day and didn’t.  So when I gave in and called him, he told me that he had time for me to ask him one question about him.

At this point, I’m about to tell him that it’s really not working for me.  But, the optimist in me is telling me to explore the opportunity.  You know, maybe something was going on in his life at the moment?  That’s completely possible and reasonable, right?  Right???

The day before I left for the Philly area for the weekend, he says, “Hey, ____.  U still coming down this weekend to Philly? . . . Sunday is usually a better day if u have 20min for a coffee:)  (This is verbatim, unedited)

Now, if you know me at all, I think you know that I’m usually a very direct person.  In the next series of texts, we are trying to coordinate a time and location to meet up and I am completely frustrated.  TMC (Twenty Minute Coffee) can’t set a hard time to meet.  TMC can’t even tell me a place in downtown Philly to meet up.  He just can’t pick up the phone and have a two minute conversation. . .

[via text – verbatim]
TMC: Not in Philly today but will be back tomorrow.

Me:  Ok, maybe we can shoot to meet up early evening?

TMC: Early evening tomorrow?  If so, yes

Me:  Ok, let’s shoot for that. [I am waiting for him to take the lead and set a time.]

TMC: Hope u r having fun here in Pa

[next day]

TMC:  Hello r u able to say hello later or do I need to come to ny?:)

Me:  Yes!  Come to NY.  I’m jk.  I think I can but not sure what time.  What’s good for you?  I was thinking around 7 or so?  But really not sure.

TMC:  7 is good.

Me:  [Later in the day] Hey do you have an idea where we can meet up?

TMC:  Can u meet up in Philly?

Me:  I can but need to drop off friends at 30th Street station around 8pm which means I wouldn’t be able to meet up til after that.  Would that work for you?

TMC:  Should be ok.

Can u text me when u drop ur friends off at 30th.

Have to go into the office for a few things

Me:   Sure but can we decide where to meet up before I get there?  I’m not familiar with the area and it’s not the best area to park and sit.

[no answer – two and a half hours pass]

Me:  Hey there I’m about to drop of friends.

TMC:  Hey only have time for a quick drink or if u just want to drive down to where I work just to say hello.

It’s close to 30th street station

Me:  I’m don’t feel very comfortable going to your office – I’d really prefer to just grab a drink.

TMC:  Ok (did not mean come into the actual office)

There is a place at ___ and ____.  Bottom n next to the ____ hotel.  its an irish bar.

Me:  Is that by the river?  Do you remember the name?

TMC: No its toward center city

go down market n make a left on 18th street

Me:  Sorry can you give me more detail please?  I’m not familiar enough with the City.  🙁

Market street away from Drexel?

TMC:  Yes head east

Me:  Ok I think I know where it is from looking at the map.

TMC:  Ok will head over

N by the way very casual attire

Was working in my office

Me:  Oh darn!  I’m wearing my prom dress.  See you soon.

Hey can you please tell me the name when you get there?

. . .

TMC is almost finished with his Bailey’s on ice when I walk into the bar.  We talk a bit.  Normal conversation.  Seemingly nice guy.

TMC starts getting the check while I still have half a pint of beer, so I literally start chugging it.  That hard-earned beer is not going to waste.  TMC is telling me to take my time as I joke that I need to drink it quickly.  He is sitting at the edge of his seat, ready to go.

We walk outside and he offers to walk me to my car.  In NYC, I’d just tell him to forget it, especially after all that weird texting and rushed drink, but in a “foreign” city, I accept his offer.  I look over and take a good look — Twenty Minute Coffee is wearing baggy grey sweat pants, beat up Timberland boots, and a red fleece jacket that is zipped up to his neck.

Me:  Wow you really are dressed casually.

. . .

We get to the car.  I can’t wait to get home and have another drink.

TMC:  Can I get a hug?

Reluctantly, I oblige.  I go home and play board games with my sister, her husband, and another couple.

I think this is a young photo of Adam Scott:

Yeah, it’s been a bit of a dry spell with dates.  Not completely uneventful but also not a whole lot to write home about – good or bad.

Yesterday I went to my friend’s wedding in Washington, DC.  I sat a table with a bunch of fabulous single women and one fabulous married couple.  Being the fabulous single women we are, we shared dating stories — mostly horrific, some very funny, and some sort of sad.

What is up with that?   I need a good date.  I really good one.

Thus, came my renewed motivation to get back in the game and to spend a little time on updating you with my dating activity.

Here’s Adam Scott after making the winning putt during the final round of the PGA Grand Slam of Golf.