Never date a man from L.I

You know-

Its not as if I hadn't learned my lesson...

I mean my freshman college roommate was a nut bar- and she was from L.I.

(Oh which by the way- translates to Long Island)

I mean when someone thinks they can take alcohol and a dose of medication (because, "I think that's only with asprin"- I'm quoting her people) and you can't take a, "Hey, I don't think you should be doing that" - well, you have issues.

So when I got an IM from a native Long Islander- and well I hate to be admitting this- on Jdate (this is a whole other blog people)... I was reluctant to answer.

I mean, other than the fact that I don't understand how men think posting a photo with another girl on their profile says, "I'm loyal and ready to commit" (like I said a whole other blog) I was being overloaded with messages and IM's all from overly Jewy men I was about to reject the invitation... and then I took it.

Damn.

Of course, the first thing he asked was where I had been in LI- afterall, my orthodox Jewish cousin (also a nut bag) lives in Lawrence.

But it turned out alright at first. He seemed funny and interesting, a creative- all those things that I like. And then he got right to it and asked me out- to meet up at the bookstore- I'm thinkin' he must alright- I mean its the bookstore, a place of intellectuals and interesting people.
So I went for it, took the bait and let the guy chase me.

Trust me, I was about to back out because again of already stated reason #1: All LI's are nut bags.

But there I was, dressed in my skinny jeans, my tight little tank top (with a sweater of course- don't want to be thought of as slutty) and dressed in well, slutty boots (you gotta add some flair). And I'm in the f**kin' philosopy section - definitely the site section for a "anything I say is right" kinda guy.

So I'm there- and its time and he's not there- this guy's a fuckin' no show!

I book over to the History section so that if he does show up and he doesn't represent who I thought he might be- I could make a break for the escalator.

So then there's this guy, makin' the rounds- he short and stubby so I'm thinkin' "Oh f**k, you have got to be kiddin' me" but then the guy goes back toward the escalator- so whew~

Then there's another guy, with a t-shirt over a button down and some khakis and I'm thinkin' ok, he's short, but I'm shorter so that's okay- he's cute, alright. (But first thing he does is subtly criticizes that I'm not in the Philosophy section- uh oh) He gives me a hug and asks me if I'm hungry and we're off.

So first, he proposes hot dogs and Johnny Rockets (and I horribly flashback to the hot dog I had when I was 12, and after riding the roller coaster at Circus Circus 7 times, I had woken up the next day with the worst stomach pains of my young life and vomited in the trash can- not an attractive story, so I didn't share).

So, he suggests the Crepe place- and I think cool- I was always curious.

And we have a nice time, other than the fact that he asked about my last relationship (oh god a f**kin' novel) and the fact that he occassionally smokes pot (and I'm anti-drug - oh and by occassional I heard him mutter - once twice a week- yeah sure occassional) he was funny and I liked him and even though it slipped that I might be attracted to him and he asked for confirmation of that Freudian slip- for some reason I had said no and slid into the next thought in my brain.

And we were off to the perusal of the bookstore- which was again, a nice time, other than the fact he criticized again when I had done a lack luster computer impersonation- and wasn't really putting thought into it.

And after 3 hours, and talk of a second date- all I got was a hug - which i guess fine for a first date- and feelings of well "he's just not that into me".

But then he asked for my myspace page- which really- why do I want to give that out?- I mean it has some not so hot photos of me, but it was with my fam so I posted them- it also has more bloggage- not like this, but still- he was going to pre-judge me and I knew it.

And when I sent him an e-mail the first time to thank him properly for buying lunch- he had responded swiftly.

But the next time an e-mail a few days later, with poetic reminder to write- following a previous conversation we had had- no response and a passive agressive headline on his myspace of "I command you to not exist"- am I reading into it? Because my instinct says that this is completely aimed at me - as he may have noticed that I had viewed his profile several times because I have other people survey them by myspace- hey, I have to have objective opinions or else I will continue to date losers.

And survey says- this guy is wierd. His videos are wierd. I know I ussually like wierd/quirky because I'm wierd/quirky- but this guy- plain wierd.

Damn it- please help me to improve my taste in men!

Thanksgiving and the absence of my foul-mouthed brother "The Soldier"

Many years ago, and my junior high school year- long far away- I jotted down the many words of a typical family Thanksgiving that only lasted 20 minutes. And of course, my young 12 year old brother-who was always in charge of our little table prayers, just before shoving biscuits in his mouth, never failed to curse right at the table.

Now, many years later- he is not here.

He is on an Air Force base training in Florida- and possibly next year, he will be on the sandy "beaches" of Iraq, dropping bombs on villages. If he's lucky, he won't be involved and won't get hurt. But he's a glutton for danger... and stupidity.

I knew it was too quiet this year, I could barely remember last year with his citations of calling me "b*tch", "cu*ntface", "fu*ckin tree hugger" (you get the picture)
that things were different this year... perhaps quieter, but no better, bored, but no worse.

And what usually lasted 20 minutes, as traditional as our family gets... really only lasted 15- after the hours of cooking my mother and I (partially really) put in- for such a small second, and not more meaningful piece of time (not as it was in the past for us).

Both thankful for the absence of a foul-mouth and thankful he is still in one piece, I think as I sit and look at my former hippie of a father, who spent his long haired piano playing days in Hawaii and my Puerto Rican mother, who so encouraged my brother, but never seemed the gung-ho conservative type... I can only think he had done what I had tried so long ago- escape from the people who I thought tried to control me- so I could be different and not the same- and get the hell out of a life that was truly only one note, as good as it might be, so I could live the exciting life.

This is what I think, at Thanksgiving and his absence.

All the men I love... and can not have, for fear of destroying career and other realities

There are a million Misters that pass me each day.

And I can't have not one, not any one of them.

There's Mister EP, broad shoulders, flowing hair, deep voice... he is of course older... and well... married.

Then there's Mister EVP, mountain man, masculine, listens to opera, smokes cigar (a turn off and a turn on)... he is of course above me... and has kids.

Then there's Mister Funny Celebrity... actually many funny Celebrities... Mister "I was going to marry a rock star but now I'm dating someone else and am too good to look you in the eye but I'm hot".

Then there's Mister Former Variety Show Icon who I offered a drink and then well- offered me a drink (well, because quite frankly I'm the gatekeeper into this lion's mouth) but is totally engaged to a super model and has formerly been speculated to be gay.

And of course even those more level on the hierachy are still unreachable in this corporate crackpot.

There's Mister Assistant who kind of reminds me of my X and much like my X, is married (although I am unsure if she is French).

Then there's Mister Assistant -kind of looks like Ryan Gosling, indie rockstar-ish guy, who says hello to me, but never really converses.

Then there's Mister Post Production- who doesn't get that I flirt with him when he comes to visit. Perhaps he's too busy checking out the other assistant who flaunts her assets.

And then there's Mister Mail- who I have actually been around socially- we have actually danced (awkwardly)- I do know him a little more indepth- and has prior shown some interest... but now nothing. No moves. Nothing. Zip. Zero. I just occassionally see him... when he brings the mail. We chat... professionally... surface-ly.

Being corporate just kills the mood.

Nevermind that majority of these choices are unattainable by realistic standards... there's sexual harrasment issues, career advancement issues... serious issues...

How the hell am I supposed to meet anyone else?

When the highlight of my day is remembering the hot guy who I dodged paths with on the way back in from lunch and have to dub him "Mister Hot Guy Who I Dodged Paths With On The Way Back From Lunch" (who by the way I tossed my hair back and flashed him a smile- and he did the same ;) I can only hope my 11 hour days, 5 days a week lifestyle that is laying some ground for my future (and my back account) is not seriously killing any hope of a social life.

Its not as if my social life was fabulous in the last two gigs.

(Sigh) All the men I love... and can not have... for fear of hurting career advancement and other realities.

I think having them involved with my V spot could definitely hurt my career.

But being a nun is seriously killing my social life.