Thursday, March 22, 2007
It won't be hard to start again
I'm still tired. Almost every night this week, I have gone out after going to the gym. I've been dragging my ass home between 11:30 and midnight, then absolutely crashing. I'm thinking that this should stop, but between now and Sunday, free time is on the light side.
Tonight was supposed to be chill. Something happened last night that changed that.
I left work yesterday, went to the gym, then showered and headed to Chelsea to meet Spatch. I was so excited to see her. She'd been in Hawaii for 10 days, and the week before she left had been so busy that getting together had been impossible. We had a lot to catch up on.
I was waiting at a bar stool in the front window of the tapas restaurant when she arrived and we greeted each other enthusiastically. It was busy, I had made reservations, but we still had to wait a few minutes to be seated. As we stood at the hostess station waiting for our table, a man approached me. He had the look of a man on a mission.
He told me I was beautiful. He pleaded with me to tell him I was single. He asked to join us for dinner, but I wasn't about to let some Italian punk interfere in my time with Spatch, so he asked if he could take me for dinner the next night, to the restaurant of my choice (PETER LUGER'S! Ok, not really, I would never do that, but I'm tempted). Before I agreed, Spatch challenged him to come up with 3 good reasons why I should go out with him. Bizarrely enough, he completely failed this test.
Something about The Italian rubbed me the wrong way. He was too smooth. Clearly too practiced in the the art of picking up on strange women in public places. I agreed to go to dinner with him tonight, but imagine I'll get a free meal, maybe a little amusement, then when I don't sleep with him on the first date, I'll never hear from him again. I hadn't actually ever expected to hear from him at all. But he called at 1:30 in the morning last night, so his intentions to take me out might actually be sincere. We'll see....
Dinner with Spatch was absolutely fabulous. She never disappoints and I never want to stop talking to her. My heart ached for her as she spoke of her impending breakup with her boyfriend and even though she acknowledged that she deserves better, I afraid that deep down inside she doesn't believe it. And even though my faith in men is certainly not at its all time high right now, I believe that there is someone better for her. Someone who wouldn't make her cry with such intensity, and someone who would never let her go, because he recognizes that she is the best thing that could ever happen to him. I believe in this man for Spatch.
I drink more wine than her and I eat more than her. We stay for 2 hours and by the time we leave, my Italian boyfriend is long gone. We walk to the subway together and we eagerly make plans for the summer. Outdoor cafes. Baseball games. Shopping. Cocktails. The forthcoming adventures of 2 single, nympho girls in New York City.
You have been warned.
Today's Title from: Happier by Guster
Tonight was supposed to be chill. Something happened last night that changed that.
I left work yesterday, went to the gym, then showered and headed to Chelsea to meet Spatch. I was so excited to see her. She'd been in Hawaii for 10 days, and the week before she left had been so busy that getting together had been impossible. We had a lot to catch up on.
I was waiting at a bar stool in the front window of the tapas restaurant when she arrived and we greeted each other enthusiastically. It was busy, I had made reservations, but we still had to wait a few minutes to be seated. As we stood at the hostess station waiting for our table, a man approached me. He had the look of a man on a mission.
He told me I was beautiful. He pleaded with me to tell him I was single. He asked to join us for dinner, but I wasn't about to let some Italian punk interfere in my time with Spatch, so he asked if he could take me for dinner the next night, to the restaurant of my choice (PETER LUGER'S! Ok, not really, I would never do that, but I'm tempted). Before I agreed, Spatch challenged him to come up with 3 good reasons why I should go out with him. Bizarrely enough, he completely failed this test.
Something about The Italian rubbed me the wrong way. He was too smooth. Clearly too practiced in the the art of picking up on strange women in public places. I agreed to go to dinner with him tonight, but imagine I'll get a free meal, maybe a little amusement, then when I don't sleep with him on the first date, I'll never hear from him again. I hadn't actually ever expected to hear from him at all. But he called at 1:30 in the morning last night, so his intentions to take me out might actually be sincere. We'll see....
Dinner with Spatch was absolutely fabulous. She never disappoints and I never want to stop talking to her. My heart ached for her as she spoke of her impending breakup with her boyfriend and even though she acknowledged that she deserves better, I afraid that deep down inside she doesn't believe it. And even though my faith in men is certainly not at its all time high right now, I believe that there is someone better for her. Someone who wouldn't make her cry with such intensity, and someone who would never let her go, because he recognizes that she is the best thing that could ever happen to him. I believe in this man for Spatch.
I drink more wine than her and I eat more than her. We stay for 2 hours and by the time we leave, my Italian boyfriend is long gone. We walk to the subway together and we eagerly make plans for the summer. Outdoor cafes. Baseball games. Shopping. Cocktails. The forthcoming adventures of 2 single, nympho girls in New York City.
You have been warned.
Today's Title from: Happier by Guster
Labels: The Italian
