Bahamavention

(Sigh) By tomorrow, I'll already be here. My out of office assistant is on. My voice mail is changed. My car to the airport is booked.

Last night I started packing. I am so excited to wear my summer dresses again... Its been too long since I've had a beach vacation... This is exactly what I needed......

Girls with Boyfriends

Following an office party last night, I took my inebriated coworkers to meet up with my drinking buddy and others. When we arrived the guys heralded my appearance and ability to wrangle girls to their otherwise male-only fest.

After Dane Cook and I have a disappointingly lame conversation, I quickly come to the realization that bringing inebriated girls into a room of guys is not a wise decision. In a matter of moments, my coworker, who incidentally has a boyfriend, is hitting on Dane Cook.

I’m thinking there should be some sort of rule here. Something like…. GO HOME TO YOUR GOD DAMN BOYFRIEND! As if the NY dating scene isn’t complicated enough, we have to deal with individuals in relationships acting like singles. That's pure selfishness!

Want to place a wager?

I've never been much of a betting gal. When I visit Vegas, I spend my daylight hours by the pool and my evening hours at the club or sampling their fine cuisine. I've never sat down at a blackjack table or placed a roulette bet. I'm not a lucky person, so I prefer to spend my time and money in Sin City, being... well sinful.

This morning, I read with great interest a post by Tote Board Brad, in which he sets up the odds for which man in my life with be "the next". I've got to say, the man's done his homework. He knows the players and he's pretty much got me pegged.

I personally can't wait to see how this all unfolds... And I promise honest (anonymous) disclosure of whomever it happens to be.

MoJo Recovered

After long await, I’m pleased to say that my dating mojo is back. To my friends who were lamenting its absence, claiming I was becoming a bit of a bore, I’m pleased to report, I’m back.

After a couple weeks of self-repair (ego stroking from low hanging fruit, developing gymrexia and mindless hookups) I finally have back my certain j’ne sais quoi. This weekend, I raised the dating bar to escape the low hanging fruit I’d been busying myself with, and found two completely suitable candidates.

Friday night, my roommate and I checked out Nurse Bettie’s. While we were there, I made eye contact with a tall man dressed in a dapper suit. After a couple flirting glances, Wall Street promptly came over and introduced himself. When his friends wanted to leave the bar, Wall Street asked to stay. We got along tremendously and after a couple cocktails we stepped outside for a cigarette. He used this moment away from the group to take my number and kiss me. Completely pleasant and quite funny, as his first words after the kiss were, “I don’t usually kiss beautiful girls outside bars.” So cheesy!

Saturday night, my young wingman invited me to a gallery event in Williamsburg. The promise of doing something other than “the ordinary” intrigued me, so Blondie and I headed over the bridge. There we meet a couple of his friends, including one who was drop dead look-a-like to Dane Cook. In true single girl fashion, I flirted with Dane Cook shamelessly. However, while my mojo is back, my skills are rusty, because when Dane Cook leaned over to kiss me I turned away. Quick to realize my mistake, I laughed off my faux-pas and asked him to try again.

My dating calendar is filling up. dinner with The Houseguest on Wednesday, followed by cocktails with Dane Cook on Thursday. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing from Wall Street, once the necessary 3 days from our meeting pass.

My newest desire: Visiting Cards

Seriously, I am rethinking my habit of handing my business card to guys who ask for my number. Especially after this guy, emailed me. When I didn’t immediately respond, he called my office. After I explained to him that I was incredibly busy (3pm on Monday), he called my cell phone to apologize for bothering me at work.

In my mind, a business card is an invitation to call the individual’s cell phone number, not stalk them.

I think it is time to revive the art of visiting cards. Back in the days of “Gone With the Wind” when someone stopped by your house, they would leave a visiting card, with their name and number, as evidence of their visit.

For my business contacts, I have my business card.
For my personal contacts, I have my visiting card, with only my cell phone.

Aunt Downtown

That's A-unt Downtown. Not Ant Downtown.

My poor sister will be nine months pregnant in Atlanta in August. Her due date is the 9th. I intend on being the coolest Aunt ever. Especially since now this relieves the pressure from my parents for me to settle down and start a family. Now, I can just point them in the direction of my sister.

Chocolate & Champagne

At last night's fundraising event for this all-male production of As You Like It, (which conveniently enough took place in a Soho chocolate store). My wingman and I were on a date-to-find-dates.

The fundraiser was everything a good event should be. Crowded, but not too crowded. Diverse crowd. Great DJ. Interdispersed raffle (come on you always think you are going to win). Best of all there was no end in sight to the champagne and chocolates. The cycle was endless - champagne, chocolate truffle on a potato chip, champagne, chocolate cover tortilla chip with chili powers and asiago cheese, champagne, chocolate brittle...

The date-to-find-dates was semi-successful, I've been invited to a winery with an individual from the party. He isn't really my type and perhaps a little over-eager, but hey, a gal needs options.

My moment of regret from the evening should probably be drinking all of Blondie's wine at the Spotted Pig post-party, I'm actually more embarrassed by the evening ending phone conversation with The Houseguest. I really need to get that phone with the breath-a-lyzer on it. Cause calls like that should never happen.

Lesson learned: Chocolate and champagne are not a substitute for dinner.