The Doorman Always Rings Twice?

I have never experienced the ‘walk’of shame before’, for the main reason that I have never had to walk. I never really understood the statement until this summer… when I found myself doing ‘it’ and invariably the ‘walk’ that followed. As it turns out having sex with someone in Manhattan is… tricky and really, quite public. This is very much the case when a doorman is involved in the equation… and several garbage men. In the walk home part, not the sex part (give me SOME credit please!).

How does one elegantly leave in the early hours when she doesn’t look quite as elegant as she did going in? Doormen have been around long enough to know. I can only imagine the material they have (blog anyone?).I am quite confident the phrase ‘walk of shame’ had to have been created here in New York. Where else do you walk everywhere and where else is there a high probability of people seeing you (at any hour I might add) in last night’s dress and highly suspicious newly arranged hairdo? Really? Women should seriously consider forgoing the clutch and investing in well stocked evening satchels. I am sure we could make the large ‘stay over’ bag hip somehow don’t you think?

You know this problem is of concern to many when a company makes a ‘walk of shame’ emergency kit to keep safely stowed away in your bag, just in case (www.urbanaid.com). The whole doorman thing? Well I am not entirely sure how to deal with that, either develop a thicker skin, slip him a greenback or if all else fails invest in a disguise.

Now the garbage men? Well that’s easy, just take the ‘walk’ out of the equation and take a damn cab. You will be homeward bound in no time sans the cat calls, that is of course until you get home… to your doorman.

Translationship

Translationship-  the fine art of translating the thinly veiled verbal dialogue of the person you may or may not be in, or are interested in being in a relationship with (still with me?). Please note when practicing this art, observation of body language can be used for verification of your translation. Take case study #1- A perfect example would be two people sitting at opposite ends of a booth while out for dinner (read-body language tell) and him sharing the story of how he was just telling his sister the other day how much he needs to NOT be in a relationship right now and is SO enjoying being on his own… Translation of this relationship? Ummm… you’re not in one, nor will ever be.

So much for being direct, however in this day an age, I believe that experience might constitute the modern day version of directness. The funny part? I didn’t ask (surprise! Yes, this is about me), a relationship was not in question. However, I am happy to hear that his ego is doing very well and that he felt the need to dispel any possibility of me wanting to be in a romantic relationship with him…. thanks.

Nothing like someone taking care of business before you even get to considering it. Check mark.

My other favorite directly indirect use of communication is when someone shares their feelings about an issue by storytelling. HELLO passive aggressive! You share how having to put your beloved pet down was an awful and upsetting experience, he shares how his died in a bomb explosion (trump much?), he only cried because he was EIGHT and then got over it. Because really, it was just a dog. Translation? Buck up buttercup, your dog dying? Not such a big deal. My translation? Insensitive _________! (I’ll let you fill in the blank)

So dear readers, take heed the next time you are conversing with those around you, because sometimes, translation is necessary to truly know what is being said. Know what I’m sayin’?

 

Verbal Incontinence

I have a problem. It would seem I inspire men to lose control of their mouths… and not in a good way. I have been on a series of dates lately (hey, it’s the way you roll in NYC evidently) and have been continually encountering men with a case of the runs… in the mouth a.k.a. veral diarrhea. Sorry for the potty mouth, but really I can’t think of another way to describe it. I say hello and they say blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah… for about an hour. When they come up for air, typically their response is, ‘I don’t know what has gotten into me, I usually don’t talk/share/reveal this much about myself.’ Is it me? I have now resorted to staring at myself in the mirror looking for some rational for this flow of dialogue. No scratch that. Dialogue would conotate and exchange of words… which there are none. Nerves? Perhaps. Do they provide Kaopectate for the mouth?

I just need to figure out how to get a word in edgewise. Maybe practicing my angry face or pretending not to care would help. If this continues for much longer, I won’t have to pretend.

Thanks for listening, I hope I didn’t ramble on….

Choosing My Choice

It is ridiculous how many dates I have been on lately. Ridiculous. I am beginning to feel like a man. That would be my only issue with NYC, too many choices. I could date a different man every night for the next month and still not settle on one. Forest Gump was wrong, it’s not life that is like a box of chocolates, it’s men. You don’t know what you’re getting until you try one and then you need to decide, funny? Or charming? Or? This is the problem. Do you wait to find your favorite and just take small bites out of the others until you settle on your choice? Is that fair? Men have been doing it for ages, so why not me? Well the problem is I am getting full! I can’t tell what flavor I like anymore because my man palette is numb.

I know relationships are hard, but finding one shouldn’t be. That is if the universe is fair. I came from a place where the pickin’s were slim and now I find myself where the choices are too many. I guess it’s all going to come down to choosing a choice that is just right. I just need to loose the attitude my next one is going to be an orange cream filling, the kind that I’m allergic to and that make me make a funny face. If only they had a card that told you the contents of the men you meet, like the one you get inside the box of Black Gold chocolates. Now there’s an idea…

Attack of the NY’ Woman

New York provided me with many experiences, many of which had me meeting new people and learning new things. Dating New York men, well, that was a unique experience unto itself. It would seem however that the real kicker is New York men’s own experiences in dating New York women. See I’m a Canadian girl and a west coaster to boot. Translation- I’m nice AND laid back. Two things it would seem most New York women are not.

 

Some dates felt like counselling sessions with these men, their relief tangible in time spent with a non New York woman. It would seem the resounding feeling is that New York women are, well… aggressive, to say it politely. Believe me, much more colorful adjectives were used when dating story time was in session.

 

I will share one with you now… Once upon a time in the concrete jungle otherwise known as Gotham City,  a wealthy man (they run wild in Manhattan proper) was cajoled into showing his lofty penthouse overlooking the ‘Park’ to his over eager date. Said wealthy man-hattanite had already decided this “social climbing she devil” was not his cup of tea and decided to satiate her request in hopes of using the penthouse to bait and switch her attention from him, to real estate. Therefor ending the evening with her on a elusions of granduer high and him changing his phone number. Well like most plans, it went horribly awry when she emerged from the ‘little girls room’ completely buck naked. Yes, NAKED. Somehow his “I’m just not that into you and your money grubbing ways’ (my addition to the now popular social verbage) was lost on her, and she thought baring all was a good solid plan. Entertained? Well it gets better. Manhattan woman not known for beating around the ‘bush’ made her desires known (like getting naked wasn’t message enough) and wanted to get it on, on what I can only assume she foresaw as her future home’s floor (the aggressive female’s equivalent to peeing on it to mark her territory). Needless to say after several gentlemanly attempts at thwarting her naked advances, she instead of feeling rejected or embarrassed like any ‘normal’ woman might after being turned down, this creature went on the attack… while STILL naked.

 

Oh yes dear reader, she gave him a stripping down of her own kind. What wealthy Manhattan man worth his salt would turn down a beautiful and money hungry woman? I mean this kind of woman is the acceptable norm! Her theory? He must be gay (and NOT the happy version), yup that is the only sensible and possible reason, and once again this is the PG version description of her retort. Naked and chastising, well the woman has balls, and after hearing many somewhat similar stories, these gals grow em’ big in the city.

 

So beware of the attack of the NY woman, because you never know when she might be coming for you, or what she may or may not be wearing.