The Virginity Monologues

As I waited at the bar of Las Ramblas, a new tapas place that Spatch and I were trying out, I texted madly back and forth with Email Boy who wants to plan a road trip to Graceland together. As I annoyed everyone around me with my shouts of laughter at each of his text messages, I thought of how frustrating it is to have this relationship that is so perfect, literally I would change nothing about it, and to have it remain strictly platonic. Am I doomed to never have this level of comraderie with a love interest?

Spatch arrived, punctual as ever, and as we toasted our white peach sangria to 'being happy with ourselves, just as we are', I reveled in the myriad of complex but completely satisfying relationships that fill my life. We talked non-stop through our croquettes, meatballs, and mushroom/tomato/avocado salad, but dismissed dessert in favor of hitting up Cold Stone later.

After we left the restaurant, we wandered across the street to a sex/costume shop so Spatch could look for more costumes to experiment with. We found ourselves in the corset section, picking out ones to try on.

Spatch couldn't have looked sexier in her black with red accents corset. It fit her perfectly and accentuated everything exactly how it should be accentuated. After getting the laced-up torture on my self, I turned to look in the mirror and as I surveyed the sight before me- boobs up to my chin and a 20 inch waist (okay, no way was it really 20 inches, but it felt like it!), 'sexy' isn't exactly the word I would have used. I liked the look okay, and I loved the feel of it, but since there was no way I could ever sit down in it and I'm sure the struggle to maintain nipple coverage would never end, I decided maybe a corset isn't the best look for me. Spatch maintains that I just need to try more.....

After Operation Corset, we wandered on to Cold Stone, where I always try something different and Spatch always gets the same thing. As we sat in the window people watching and talking, she asked me if I could name everyone I had slept with.

"Of course!" I said confidently.

And yet, as I got to the end of the names in my head, I found myself coming up one short. 24 hours later and a thorough re-reading of the last 2 years of my blog and I am still drawing a blank. Have I miscounted somewhere along the way? Or can I really not remember?

This vexes me.

Oh well. Must not have been that great!

Spatch, however, was fabulous as always. I'm so excited for her to move to Manhattan so we can spend more time together......

Today's Title from: Keep it Playa by Pharrell

Labels: Spatch

I'm tired. As I rightly should be. I got dropped off by Oscar at 5:45 this morning. We had been at his house and had fallen asleep. And I didn't feel comfortable bringing overnight accessories yet. I'm still sort of undecided about how I feel about him. Sometimes I adore the shit out of him, other times I want to smack him. We'll see, I guess.

There are other things to be excited about in the meantime- like the white water rafting trip that Karen, Maria and I just signed up for. It's only one day, but it's going to be KICK-ASS. It's not for another month, but I'm already so excited, I have to use the bathroom about every 30 seconds. Too bad we can't bring Maria's kitties.

Running was one of the most painful experiences of my life last night. Sometimes, the Running Gods shine their light on me and I can run forever. Sometimes, the Running Gods show their utter disdain for the size of my ass and make every step a lesson in torture. Last night, the evil culprits were focused specifically on my right shin and my left ankle. It took me about 5-10 minutes longer than it should have to finish my 2.5 miles because I kept having to stop and shake my angry fist at the heavens. Awesome. Karen struggled too, so I'm going to blame it on either the loaded cheese fries that we had on Sunday, catching up with us, or a blanket night of punishment by the Gods for all of us New Yorkers for reasons unknown (probably because they are tired of our ubiquitous cool-factor, they felt we needed a lesson in humility).

Tonight I am meeting up with Spatch for dinner and we will have a fabulous time, despite the fact that she loves Dippin Dots and I don't.

Today's Title from: Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.

Labels: gym, Oscar

I heart Memorial Day weekend. Especially this most recent one. The weather was perfect and I got to spend a lot of time just relaxing. I think many people would be reticent to describe a weekend as 'perfect' that involved a bikini wax and a 3 mile run, but there just isn't any other word that fits.

The 3 mile run actually wasn't so bad. I finished it without the struggle I was anticipating. I set the speed at the slowest I could without falling off the treadmill, and 3 miles later, I was still breathing! I probably could have gone even longer. Who would've thought? Amazing.

Sunday was spent in Long Island, where resides a friend of Karen's, who is now my friend and not just because she owns two cats (have I mentioned how much I love cats?) or because she owns the prettiest Ford Mustang ever, that she drives very aggressively, which I love. Maria was just one of those people that you love instantly and want to do whatever it would take to make them happy. Plus she let us (read: Karen) play Guitar Hero endlessly. And she made fun of me all day for my incessant use of the word 'totally'. I like it when people understand my teasing nature and can dish it out to me as good as I can give it.

Anyhoo.

Yesterday, I slept in, and then hung out, watching Boondocks, with my adorable next door neighbor, Jay, who I am developing a weird relationship with. We used to have sex. Now we are friends who hang out together, he drove me to the gym on Saturday, and he has started calling me more often. And everything is remaining strictly platonic. Except for a few kisses every now and then. I'm not entirely sure what he wants from me (he has a girlfriend), but we have a good time together. So, whatever.

Then Karen and I spent the rest of the day together, with Shannon meeting up with us later. We walked along the water, taking in the perfect weather and all the sailors. Then we went grocery shopping, then we just chilled the rest of the night. Each one of us had other plans for yesterday, but all 3 of us bailed on those plans to be with each other.

Who needs a man when I've got friends like these? Seriously.

Today's Title from: Umbrella by Rihanna

So, I have 2 confessions to make.

1. I run into people on purpose, regularly. And by 'people', I mean tourists. I did it just this morning. I walked out of the subway and headed down the street to my office. A LARGE bus was gushing forth tourists onto the sidewalk in front of me. And they all stood on the sidewalk like cattle, filling the sidewalk and blocking it for everyone trying to pass by as they gazed up at the tall buildings, unable to believe their eyes, at 9:00 am, at a time when the sidewalks are FILLED with New Yorkers walking briskly to their offices.

Now, I know that this is the price that I pay for living in the coolest city in the world. And complaining about the tourists is SO cliche.

But people, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, pay attention!!!!! Notice your surroundings!!! People are trying to get by!!!!!

So I squared my shoulders and rammed through, not caring who I took out in the process, and never looking back at my Wake of Destruction. I don't even care.

2. Normally, I am not a TV person. I watch Grey's Anatomy like every other female on the planet and I Tivo What Not to Wear so I always have something to watch when I want to just chill in front of the TV for a while. Other than that, I'd rather be reading or making out with someone. Last summer my roommate was an avid watcher of So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD) and I admit it, I'm ADDICTED.

Last night, I ran my requisite two miles, then jumped on the elliptical and planned to only be on there about 20ish minutes.

8:02 pm: As I pumped my legs and arms to the tunes of my beloved Jay-Z, I noticed that the girl on the elliptical next to me was watching SYTYCD and I almost fell off my elliptical. I hadn't been paying attention! I hadn't realized it was starting again!!! As fast as I could, I pulled my headphones out of my iPod and jammed them into the TV, planning to watch it while I finished on the elliptical, thinking it would only be a half an hour (don't ask me why I made that assumption, I am clearly, an idiot).

8:30: The show is still going. I think it's going to go for an hour, so I plan another 15 minutes on the elliptical, then plan to jump on a bike to finish off the show.

8:59: The show is still going. I realize it's at least an hour and a half, maybe two hours. I can't work out for one second more. My legs feel like lead. At a commercial break, I get off the bike, call my roommate and ask her to Tivo the rest of the show for me, then waddle home.

Total workout time:
Treadmill: 40 minutes
Elliptical: 45 minutes
Stationary Bike: 15 minutes

Working out for an extra 45 minutes so I can watch So You Think You Can Dance: Priceless

Today's Title from: We're Dancing by P.Y.T.

Labels: gym

There is a discernible difference in number of comments when I write about silly boys and when I write about the gym/my eating habits. I wonder what that's about.

The elliptical machine at my gym won't let me do a program for more than 25 minutes. So had to do the x-train aerobics program twice last night. I want to punch it in it's smug electronic display face.

After througly exhausting myself at New York Sports Club, I took my sore legs down to Alphabet City where I met Spatch at Louis 649, a great little bar that plays live jazz and has no cover. UNHEARD OF! I know. Plus, they have a dog, that sings along to the jazz and an ADORABLE bartender who definitely knows his alcohol. It doesn't get any better!!! Except they don't serve food. So, Spatch and I went around the corner to order ourselves some juicy, delicious burgers and only so-so fries to consume while whiling away our evening to the singing dog and enjoying the refreshing taste of Lambic. And Port. And a shot of Tequila for Spatch, but not for me, cause Tequila makes me crazy, especially when it's offered to me before I've had a chance to fill my belly. Empty stomach + tequila = potential for flashing.

It's interesting- going out with Spatch. She can talk to anyone. Everytime I left her for 30 seconds or more, I'd come back to find her engrossed in conversation with someone new, generally someone of the male persuasion, because trust me on this- men GRAVITATE to her. It was because of her friendliness that we ended up engrossed in conversation with a great guy from the area, who I exchanged cards with at the end of the evening and am hoping to convince him to have drinks with me again. Because he's smart and cute and funny and is everything that I SHOULD be going for, when I'm not getting distracted by arms. Lovely, muscley arms. I just want to caress them. And lick them. Mmmmmmm.

Anyway. (Is it hot in here?)

As an FYI for all Spatch readers, she told me last night that she is done with her Blog Hiatus and will be posting today. So, go check it out, bitches.

Today's Title from: Under the Influence by James Morrison

Labels: gym, Spatch

When I was logging into blogger just now, instead of typing 'chloe' (cause that's my fake blog name), I wrote 'chocolate'. Clearly, I have a problem.

2.5 miles. That's how many I ran last night! BOO-YEAH.

So, even though I went to Russia about 10 years ago, I've recently found my journal from when I was there and I've been reading it, so all those fun snow-filled months are fresh in my memory these days, so you might be hearing about it more often. Hope y'all don't mind.

I have two favorite stories from Russia, one of them is about spraining my ankle and the SUPER FUN experience that I had in the Russian hospital. The only funny part about that story is where they wheeled me into the x-ray room, only to find a LARGE dead man on the x-ray table, to which they said "OY!" and promptly wheeled me back out into the hall, where I was treated to the Look of Death from everyone that had been standing in line for the x-ray, a line that I had been allowed to cut straight to the front of simply because I am a cute American. Hot Dog. While I withered under the hairy Russian eye-balls, the dead man was wheeled out with sheet draped over him and then I was wheeled back in and placed on the exact same table, that I'm sure had NOT been disinfected in the meantime. I had a hard time finding the humor at the time, in between my deep gulping sobs of misery, but this part of the Hospital story never fails to send people into gails of laughter. It's also funny when I tell about how as my doctor was telling me how many days I had to stay in bed, he had to count it out on his fingers. And after he got to 10, asked me what came next.

My other favorite story is hilarious- but without the accompanying hand motions, may not come across as funny as it truly is.

Because there is SO MUCH snow in Russia, the government workers in charge of keeping sidewalks clear (actually such people may not have even existed, they could very well be figments of my imagination) just stopped trying in the months of January and February, because there is not a chance in hell that they could have ever kept up. It just snowed that much. And so, people just walked on top of the snow as it fell, creating paths (that didn't necessarily correspond with sidewalks) through the multiple feet of snow. One day, I was crossing what I believe was a park (hard to tell under all that snow), so it was a big open field of snow, with a few paths carved through it for walking. There was a man doing some work on the path (chipping away at something? I can't remember), and some people were approaching me and based on trajectory and speed, we were all going to meet on the path at the same place. And these paths are not particularly wide, we generally walked single file on them. As the people approached me, I moved to the side a little to give them room to get past me and the man with the strange tool.

I took one step off the path with my right leg and before I had any idea what was happening, my right leg sunk into the snow all the way up to my hip.

Left leg- still on the path.

Arms- flailing wildly. (This is the part where hand motions help).

So, there I was- one leg sunken in snow, the other still on solid ground. The man with the tool laughed. The other people laughed. My friend, Lana, laughed.

I couldn't get out.

It took all 4 witnesses to help pull me out of the snow and back onto the solid path. Then I proceeded to burn with humiliation for hours afterward. Of all my Embarrassing Russia stories (all of them involve ice, snow and falling), this one probably tops them all for sheer entertainment value.

God, I miss Russia.

Today's Title from: Pop Goes the World by Men Without Hats

So, I'm terrible at starting new things and then not finishing them. I wonder what that says about me?

But, I need a hobby. Or something.

So, I've remembered that there is a hobby that I quite enjoy that makes me feel better about myself. A lot better.

It's called running.

I was going to run a 10k in June, but I fell off the training wagon and couldn't seem to get back on! So, I've found a new one in July, which training begins THIS WEEK. And for my first long run on Saturday, I have to run 3 miles. YIKES. I'm not so sure I can do that, so there may be a lot of walking involved. There may be a lot of walking in the final run too. That'll be hot.

Normally I get really pumped and excited for a new goal. I can't seem to summon the energy about this one.

I really need my dad to call me and tell me that he thinks that I can't do it. That would give me all the motivation in the world. Nothing I love more than proving his ass wrong! Oh he of the great faith in me- who thought I wouldn't make it longer than 6 months in New York (4 years and counting...) and predicted that I would return home from Russia after less than a month there (I stayed all 6 months of the program that I was with and had to be dragged kicking and screaming onto our departing train).

So, if anyone's got any great motivation tricks up their sleeve that don't involve any sort of kooky alternative medicine practices or shooting shark piss up my nose (who can name that movie?) I'd love to hear them.

Today's Title from: Show Me What You Got by Jay-Z

Karen and I were late to the going away party on Friday night, so the table was already filled by the time we got there. Our friend-that-is-leaving, Natalie, walked us down the table introducing us to everyone. I wasn't really paying attention until one of the guys with his back to us turned around to greet us.

As he leaned back, our eyes met, and our faces registered utter shock and disbelief.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I heard myself say. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He stood up and hugged me. I stumbled over my words as I asked him how long he had been living in New York, and what had brought him here. I have rarely felt more proud of myself than I did when I told him I had been here for 4 years.

My mind was going 1,000 miles an hour. I could barely put myself together enough to turn to Karen and say, "Karen, this is Jake. Jake Brown. We went to high school together." (A high school about 2,000 miles away in a pretty damn small state....)

What I didn't say, was that for a year of my life I was disastrously, obsessively in love with this man. And that in the space of 30 seconds, I reverted back to that girl, who was a National Honor society, Math club officer and extremely religious geek staring dreamily at the football star and the student body officer who used to rule my every single fantasy.

I had never, in my life, been so glad to have taken extra care with my makeup that night.

As we sat down, and my heart rate slowed, the flashbacks started coming. The middle of the night drives past his house (once without a shirt on because a friend had dared me), the walks past him in the hallway that would make me so nervous, the times when I would walk past his car in the parking lot and would lovingly run my hands along the sides of that big, ugly station wagon imagining all the dirty deeds that I could be convinced to do in the back, and the time he quizzed me on what a spark plug was and I TOTALLY failed.

Interestingly enough, he wasn't much different than the guy he was 12 years ago. He clearly still thought he was pretty hot stuff and his graduate degree and job on Wall Street probably only exacerbated that. I tried talking to him a few times, but conversation felt awkward and forced. Clearly, this was not a situation, where fate has a sense of irony and makes up for all the shit that it has dealt me by making my high school crush fall in love with me.

As we parted ways that night, he hugged me again and told me it was good to see me. Will we see each other again? Doubtful. I'd like to have dinner with him, but am too afraid to ask since I'm loathe to continue appearing as the geeky girl still carrying a torch for him (even though that could very well be true....)

After leaving the High School Reunion, I met up with Oscar and some of his friends. We hung out at a bar in Murray Hill, drinking and hanging out until Oscar sensed that I was near passing out from fatigue and took me home. But then once we got there, kept me awake for a good 2 more hours. Totally worth it.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of activities, with me getting an extra hour or so of sleep in every chance I could get. Interestingly enough, I was still hearing from Cam, who clearly doesn't know how to take a hint.

Today's Title from: After All by Peter Cetera and Cher

Labels: Jake Brown, Oscar

I grew up a little bit yesterday.

Cam has been relentless lately with his attempts to see me. I've heard from him almost every day for the last week and he has even stepped up the compliments which is very rare for him. I've kept him at bay before, but I generally always cave eventually. For a myriad of reasons.

1. I actually do like him as a person. He hasn't ever been terrible to me, and he would never deliberately hurt me.
2. I LOVE his body, more than any other man's alive. I have spent countless hours just running my hands all over it and I can't ever get enough.
3. When we're together, I really enjoy being with him. We laugh a lot and I love it that he'll confide in me about serious things.
4. I hate telling people no, I worry a lot about people not liking me, so I can be a major pushover sometimes for the sake of making myself likeable.

He hounded me all day yesterday to see him last night. I didn't even have any plans. I was tired and just wanted to go home and watch the season finale of Grey's Anatomy and crash. So it would have been easy to just change my plans to go to his place, especially since he told me he would make me dinner and we could just hang out and relax all evening.

I went home right after work and debated. Back and forth I went in my head. I wanted to see him more than I didn't want to see him.

But then I remembered how I wanted to see him a few weeks ago, and he completely blew me off.

Then I remembered how unbelievably selfish he is in bed.

And I remembered that I deserve better. And that I don't have to cheapen myself like this to get validation.

I told myself that over and over again.

And I didn't go. I didn't even call him, because I knew if I talked to him I would cave. I stayed on my couch, cried at Grey's Anatomy and went to bed early.

Then I still get to respect myself in the morning.

Today's Title from: The Fly by U2

Labels: Cam

Present Mood: IRRITATED.

Why? Because men are so effing stupid. Except Email Boy. He is exempt from this rant.

Oscar and I have been seeing each other for 1 week and a half. Not even 2 full weeks. I've seen him 3 times in that time period. And trust me, that is a lot for me. I don't see anyone that much, unless I work or live with them. I haven't seen him since Saturday and he's getting all pissy with me because I don't call him enough. I just called him on my lunch break (he called me twice last night and I didn't call him back as I didn't have time) and all he did was bitch at me for 'disappearing' and being 'Miss Nonchalant'. I was so frustrated with the phone conversation I was practically in tears, then I remembered that I don't cry over men anymore and I reigned in that emotion lickety-split.

I think I'm going to have to end this. I really like him. I do. But he gets mad at me A LOT. For not telling him things (i.e. what I tell my friends about him), for not calling him enough, for having a smart-mouth (HELLO! Do you know me at all? Smart-mouthing is what I do!) for basically everything. It's ABSURD and it's irritating. I shouldn't have to account for every minute of my life to someone I haven't been dating for a whole month even. I mean, FUCK.

And Cam has come bizarrely out of nowhere and started stalking me. Calls and texts all weekend, which I never answered. Then a text last night, requesting to see me. Whatever. First of all, you don't get to ignore me for an entire month, then pop up out of nowhere and expect me to be available to you. I'm not here for your convenience, as much as that may come as a shock to you. Not to mention, you're terrible in the sack. SEE YA.

The really awesome finale to this rant is that on Monday night, Mr. Wrong called me twice at 2 am and left me these awful drunk rambling messages. I haven't answered his calls in SEVEN months. It's been a full seven months since I told that fucker where to stick it and I still can't shake his ridiculous ass. WHAT DOES IT TAKE?!?!?!?

Sheesh.

Today's Title from: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

Labels: Cam, Mr. Wrong, Oscar

So, Anonymous (you know who you are....) recently requested a Chloe Guide to New York City. This is WAY too much to cover in one post. So I'm going to start a series of posts. To be finished when I damn well please.

Enjoy. Let me know if you have any questions/suggestions.

Because they are probably the most prominent factor in my life in New York City and I am a certified foodie, I'm going to start with restaurants.

My Favorite Restaurants for Dinner:

1. Garage on 7th Ave and Christopher St in the West Village. Live jazz every night of the week. Absolutely delicious food that isn't too overpriced and a waitstaff that has NEVER disappointed. The ambience in the place is also fabulous and the one time I got seated near the fireplace was basically the highlight of the year for me. This is where I chose to go for my birthday dinner and where I recently took Email Boy for his birthday dinner.

2. Smorgas Chef. Karen, Shannon and I just discovered this place on Saturday night as we wandered around the West Village looking for a place to eat (we are big on discovering new places). This absolutely adorable swedish place could not have been a better pick. Every one of us absolutely loved our meal and seriously, our waitress was potentially the best waitress I've ever had. The menu is fairly extensive too, so I can't wait to go back and try everything else, although it will be very hard to veer from the meatballs with lingonberry sauce (better than Ikea!) which essentially gave my taste buds an orgasm. We have been raving about this place for approximately 48 hours straight.

3. Milon- 1st ave between 5th and 6th street. It's on a block with lots of dive Indian places- where men stand outside and all beg you to come in. I was taken here by a friend, and have subsequently taken back many friends and everyone falls in love and goes back often. It's not high quality Indian, but it's abundant and it's delicious and it's insanely cheap. Everyone that works there knows me and always greets me enthusiastically and one man has even proposed to me. Tempting. Very tempting. The inside is decorated with a ton of red pepper lights hanging from the ceiling and you're so close to your neighbors you could acurately assess their brand of deodorant, but this only contributes to the racuous and fun vibe.

4. Vynl- 9th ave and 50th street (I think....). It's Karen and my fall back restaurant. This is where we go when we can't think of anywhere else to go. It's basic food, but delicious and it has music star themed bathrooms- Cher, Elvis, Dolly Parton and Nelly. It's not necessarily for a Night Out, it's for when you want to go someplace comfortable and welcoming.

5. I always struggle with where to go for Mexican. Mama Mexico is crazy fun and I would do nearly anything for their guacamole. However, I have yet to find anything on their menu entree-wise that I have fallen in love with. On the other hand, Arriba Arriba's taco salad is like crack to me and I find myself craving it on a weekly basis. The downside? Their guacamole is sub-par. In a pinch, I'll generally always choose Arriba Arriba, but sometimes the lure of the guacamole will send me to Mama Mexico....

6. Lemongrass Grill or Spice for Thai. They're two completely different restaurants. Lemongrass Grill is quiet and laid back, with extremely friendly waitstaff. The food is delicious and their dessert of coconut jasmine rice with fresh mango is taste-bud nirvana. Spice (University Place and 10th st) is a little more hip and a little louder with a really fun vibe, but always a wait. This is the first restaurant where I began to get a little more adventurous with food choices and for various different reasons, will always hold a special place in my heart. I've had a LOT of Thai in this city, and these are the only 2 places that I will go back to.

7. I've only been there once with Spatch, but Sala One Nine in Chelsea was a phenomenal tapas experience, even if it was where I met The Biggest Ass-hat in the Universe, The Italian. The waitstaff was very friendly (our waitress even warned me off about The Italian- I should have listened!!!!) and attentive and the food scrumptious and filling without being too much. The ambience was intimate and romantic and if she'd been feeling better, probably would have induced me to make out with Spatch. :)

8. Burger Joint- Le Parker Meridien Hotel. A not-so-secret burger place hidden in a corner in the lobby of a chi-chi hotel. It's a DIVE. But the burgers are oh-so-delicious. The menu is not at all extensive. Burgers, fries, milkshakes and beer are essentially the only items, but that's all they need. I've never gone and not had to wait in line FOREVER, or had to use every ounce of New York bitch that I possess to finagle a seat. It's always insanely busy for very good reason. It's just that good. There's always a debate that Shake Shack (Madison Square Park) is better, but I am firmly in the camp of Burger Joint and I won't be budged. Plus, Shake Shack can only be open during good weather since all seating is outside.

9. Lombardi's on Mott St in SoHo. This is a major tourist destination and is in virtually every guide book about New York City, but that's because the pizza is DELICIOUS. It's the oldest pizza joint in the city and it has a nice homey feeling to it, complete with red-checked tablecloths. Did I mention the extremely tasty pizza?

10. Amy Ruth's- 116th and Lenox. This restaurant has 2 strikes against it, you have to haul your ass all the way to Harlem to go there, and it was introduced to me by Scott. That being said, this is some damn good soul food. The mashed potatoes are real, and the fried chicken is everything that fried chicken should be. There's always a line and the service could definitely be better, but oh man- it's worth it. Much better than the more famous Sylvia's.

To Come:
Favorite Brunch Places
Favorite Dessert
Favorite Things to do on Saturday/Sunday Afternoon
Favorite places to Hang Out
Favorite Bars

Let me know if you y'all have any other suggestions.

Today's Title from: New York, New York by Moby

Labels: New York

I'm not 100% sure that I even remember what it feels like to be well-rested. After the week I've had, there's nothing I want to do more this weekend than sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Tuesday night I went to a Yankee game with Spatch and 2 other friends. We sat in the bleachers and shouted taunts to the players and people in the box seats with the rest of the rowdy fans. At $5 a ticket, we couldn't have asked for a better night. After the game, Spatch crashed at my place, as I live 10 minutes from Yankee stadium and she lives an hour and a half. We had all sorts of girly plans for the evening, that should have included baking, but a text message threw a wrench into my sanity and I fear Spatch might have all sorts of new ideas about my mental health. I think I might be able to sweet-talk her into brunch again though.

Wednesday night, I had Date #2, with the man that I met last Friday. Oscar. I think I'm ready to talk about him. We met on Friday. We talked on the phone that night for 3 hours. Communication continued all through the weekend and Sunday night he invited me to a get-together at his place where he introduced me to some friends and treated me like a queen. He never asked for more than I was willing to give and showered me with compliments all night. Communication never faltered. Calls and texts abounded. Wednesday night, I met up with him and some friends, then he took me out to dinner and we went and had some drinks, then we went back to his place and watched Scarface (really, I fell asleep while he watched Scarface) and for the second time in a week, he drove me home at 4 am, because I asked him to.

And let me tell you something. This man has SKILLS. Amazing skills. Like- imagine the best lover you've ever had- he could teach that person some lessons.

He wants to see me again tonight (total 3 times in one week, can you say- whipped?) and I'll hedge a little with complaints that I'm tired and that I'd really like to give the bite marks on my neck some time to fade, but chances are high that I'll probably cave.

Last night was a birthday dinner for Email Boy. I was at a company event in Chelsea, so he came and picked me up there, then we headed down to the West Village to have dinner at my favorite restaurant, where the food is outrageously delicious and the live jazz is even better. Dessert was a Chipwich for Email Boy and a Haagen Daaz bar for me, then we headed to another one of my favorite places- a lounge filled to the gills with pool tables, ping pong tables, Scrabble, chess, shuffleboard, a bar and a live jazz band. We put our name down for ping pong, got ourselves some beer and then settled in on one of the couches to enjoy the music. The wait for ping pong got longer than we could take, so we then just wandered around the West Village, discovering new places and making fun of each other. As we climbed back into the car to go home, we called my sister (they've met), Email Boy is considering going on our Family Camping Trip this summer and wanted to know if he can stay in my sister's trailer, as sleeping in a tent is a little too rough for a boy from Staten Island, who I'm not sure has ever even seen a tent in real life. After my sister assured him that he could bunk with her 4 year old son, we headed for Harlem to get me home before I passed out from sheer exhaustion. On the drive home, I, once again, marveled at the ease of our relationship. After 3 years, its still fun. And never boring. And it only gets better.

And I wondered if our relationship will be like the movies, where we'll have this amazing friendship for years and years, and we won't realize how much we really love each other until one of us gets engaged and all the chips have to be laid on the table in a big dramatic scene complete with tears and throwing things and inevitably, the most romantic kiss anyone has ever seen.

Or we will just stay good friends, eventually just drifting apart as life takes us in opposite directions, eventually becoming nothing more than fond memories of those crazy days when we were single and living in Manhattan.

Today's Title from: It Don't Have to Change by John Legend

Labels: Email Boy, Oscar, Spatch

I'm emotional today. The tears are close, and I imagine that it won't take much for them to start.

It might be that I am PMSing.

It might be that a phone call that I wanted desperately to come- didn't.

It might be the text message. From Marc. That pointed a finger at me. An unwarranted finger.

It might be that I am surrounded by wonderful, amazing women- and all of us are settling for less than what we deserve.

It might be that after I read Dooce, and she talks about her daughter and the love that she feels practically jumps out of the screen and chokes you- I feel my aloneness acutely.

It might be my inability to deal with certain situations. I am a worrier and a stresser. Small things will keep me awake all night. At times my anxiety is almost crippling. This causes me to worry more. I want to relax. I want to take a silent cell phone in stride. I want to be late to something and not have a panic attack about it.

I want to be okay.

Today's Title from: And So it Goes by Billy Joel

So, I considered emailing The Ex to see if he wanted to get together sometime, but a friend advised me to wait a few days and see if I still felt that way, which was very sound advice. A few days later, and I'm much more ambivalent about him. My gut reaction was probably the result of not having seen him for 2 years. Moving on...

I just finished one of the most insane weekends of my life. I met someone on Friday who was a big contributing factor to the general insanity of the weekend, but I'm not ready to talk about him yet. I'm tired of the false starts and the false hopes, and I don't want to write about someone until I know they might be around for at least a little while.

Saturday I got my hair done. I'm now a blonde with totally rockin' red streaks in my hair. It's not as drastic and insane as it sounds. It's all very subtle and lovely. Then 2 friends and I shared in the Ultimate Girl-Bonding experience and all went to get waxed together, a deeply satisfying experience. After waxing, we found ourselves a lovely little outdoor cafe for brunch and cocktails.

That night, Karen, Shannon and I trekked down to Chinatown to see a really terrible band play, then had to immediately turn around and head for East Harlem for a fight-watching get together. The route home took us past Marc's house, who saw us in the window and invited us in. Our first time seeing and speaking since we consumated our relationship over 2 months ago. It wasn't too bad. He treated me almost exactly the same as before. It was interesting. But I'm done talking about him.

Sunday. Sunday was a very perfect day.

I met Spatch and one of her co-workers at the most adorable restuarant in the Lower East Side for brunch. The food was delicious, but the company was better. After brunch, Spatch and I walked over to the West Village, wandering through SoHo, stopping wherever we felt like it. We discovered the most fabulous store with tons of reasonably priced, absolutely gorgeous lingerie. Spatch walked out with 2 new sets of bra's and panties. I did not make out so well. Oh well. Once in the West Village, we spent some quality time pondering vibrator size and I walked away with a new toy for myself. Then we got some ice cream at Cold Stone. Then we went and had mani/pedi's. And I was heartbroken to have to part from Spatch. The perfect weather and the perfect company left me as content as a person can be.

I was supposed to go to bed early that night. I had been suffering in the sleep department for the last 2 nights, and I was exhausted. Instead I found myself in Brooklyn, getting butterflies.

Then getting dropped off at 4 am.

More about that later.....

Today's Title from: Thinking About You by Norah Jones

The curse of the first love lives on. After 2 years and so many men, I expected to be blase. I expected to see him and feel a simple fondness for the boy whom I once loved so deeply, then shattered my heart into so many pieces, I'm still trying to put them all back together.

I didn't expect to be immediately transported back to the end of our first date, to the longing that I felt as I got on my subway, and he stood on the platform, watching me pull away, our eyes holding as long as they could. I didn't expect the hug that lasted a smidge too long. I didn't expect the familiarity to come rushing back as he brushed my cheek with a kiss. I didn't expect that the regret for what might have been would almost move me to tears.

I didn't expect to feel so much love, still.

I've changed so much in the last 2 years. I've grown. I've struggled. I've cried a lot. It was my breakup with The Ex, that caused me to go through the most difficult life-changing period ever. And I'm happy. I could honestly answer that I am very well and that my life is following the path that I always dreamed it would.

I'd still rather be sharing it with him.

After the months of pure psychotic behavior that I exhibited after our breakup though, I think reconciliation is completely out of the question.

Still.

Today's Title from: Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell

I am a girl in DIRE straits. My vibrator broke last weekend. And my black book is empty. A good friend is calling me to tell me about the new guy in her life who is fucking her literally 4-5 times a night. And having recently taken a dip into the One Night Stand pool and discovering that I'm not so much a fan, there really isn't any end to my misery anywhere in sight. Woe is me.

Nothing else to report today because I can't concentrate on anything other than how horny I am.

Today's Title from: A.D.I.D.A.S. by Killer Mike

Memorable quotes from the last week of my life:

On my way to work this morning
Boy who stands on street corner a lot and has a thing for me: Hey, wait up a minute, I gotta ask you a question.
Me: Yes?
Boy: So, is it still no?
Me: Yes, it's still no.
Boy: That just ain't right!
Me: I'll keep that in mind.

Saturday morning
Strolling through SoHo
Me: There are two things I never say 'no' to, brunch and sex.
Ana: I think we're going to get along just fine.

Saturday night
On ordering her tacos at the mexican restaurant
Shannon: I'll have 2 hard and one soft.

A random man that we had met was beat-boxing (terribly) for us and stopped suddenly,
Shannon: Chloe, did he forget what he was beating?

Saying goodbye to a friend of Shannon's I had met that night
Rod: Chloe, you're so great. We'll have to hang out again when I haven't been doing so much blow.

On whom he thinks we most look like:
Random Man to me: Britney Spear's sister!

That's right, folks. In actuality, more than any other celebrity, I have been told that I most resemble, my most hated nemesis:















This Random Weird guy, took it one step further and told me that I look like:















Commence self-loathing and major reconstructive plastic surgery.

Today's Title from: Two Words by Kanye West