The Virginity Monologues

To say that I had a great weekend would be grossly understating how much fun I really did have.

Friday night:

I met Ana at her office and the 2 of us headed up to Yankee Stadium to meet her boyfriend and another friend, DreamyE. It was Ana's first baseball game and it was such a joy to see it through her eyes- to answer all of her questions and to laugh at her confusion. We ate hot dogs. We drank beer. We hollered at the vendors. It was a perfect night. Marred only by the fact that we left early in what would be a 14 inning game.

After the game, Banana went home and DreamyE went with me to meet up with my friend, Michelle for a night of boozing. We started in the West Village, which was a bit of a bust, then made our way to Fat Baby in the Lower East Side, where the night got interesting. As we were dancing downstairs, I made some significant eye contact with a cute boy. By the end of the night, we had done some pretty hot making out, and a digit exchange. (We have since made plans to go out on Wednesday.)

Saturday:

There is a guy who lives in my building and I see often on the street, who we shall call The Pharmacist (some of you may get that, some of you may not. If you're terribly confused, email me and I'll explain it). We have a mild flirtation going on, as he pretty blatantly hits on me almost every time he sees me. He's OUTRAGEOUSLY hot and has maybe the most amazing body I've ever seen, but I keep my distance, despite his persistence, as I disagree with some of his life choices.

So, Saturday afternoon, I had just stepped out of my elevator and was checking my mail. With my head bent over the mailboxes, I wasn't paying much attention to anything else around me. I felt a hand, wrap around my waist, and a set of lips press against the back of my neck (my hair was in braids, so the back of my neck was particularly exposed) and a shot of electricity spread all the way down to my toes, as I whipped around to see The Pharmacist disappearing into the elevator.

Holy smokes that was hot.

I made my way down to the West Village to meet Spatch in a daze. Unable to focus on anything in my head but those lips. And my neck. Rowr.

Spatch and I pamper ourselves with a manicure/pedicure before we are off to meet my friend, Dan and his friend, Jack, who expressed an interest in Spatch after we ran into them last week. Since it was a bit of a blind-date set up, Spatch and I chose tapas for dinner as its a great group meal. Email Boy was also set to join us as he is very good friends with Dan.

Dinner was perfection. We laughed. Spatch regaled us with Burning Man and other fascinating stories. Spatch and I ordered round after round of food and the boys ate it with gusto. The conversation flowed seamlessly and seemed to touch on almost every topic imaginable. Dan (who I've had a MAJOR crush on for about 2 years now) and I fed each other and were definitely the comic relief/dirtiest people at the table. Just thinking about it brings the biggest, most ridiculous smile to my face.

After dinner, Email Boy had to leave us to go meet some other friends, and the remaining 4 of us made our way to Max Brenner's Chocolate by the Bald Man for dessert, where the comraderie continued. After dessert, we all parted ways. Filled and happy.

Saturday night/Sunday morning:

I hit a stumbling block. I woke up at 4 am. And out of nowhere, I ached for Oscar. I missed him something awful. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to see him. I just wanted to hear his voice.

I blocked my number and I called. Hoping to just hear his voicemail.

Imagine my surprise when he picked up. Imagine his surprise that I then hung up. I don't know if he knew it was me, but he didn't call back. And hasn't called since last Thursday.

Probably for the best.

Sunday:

I met Spatch in Madison Square Park. Interestingly enough, as I called her and was on my way there, she was also on her way there. How convenient. I stood in line at the Shake Shack while I waited for her. When she arrived, the first thing I did was lay my head on her shoulder and cry. Cry for the ridiculous boy, who doesn't deserve my tears, who I ached for. We filled ourselves up with burgers, fries and shakes, before heading down to Battery Park so Spatch could catch some sun, and I could be soothed by the water before meeting some friends for drinks.

The rest of the night passed quickly, food, drinks and a film festival. I went home exhausted. So, so content.

And this time, the smile reached all the way down to my toes.

Today's title from: Drivin' Me Wild by Common (a.k.a. My Future Husband)

Labels: Ana, Oscar, Spatch, The Pharmacist

Who's tired of the Barry Bonds post, huh? Me! That's for sure.

I hardly even know where to begin.

Thursday night was eventful and sad. I am increasingly more frustrated with myself for the drama I can't seem to escape in my relationship with Oscar (who has no idea how much drama there really is). I'm tired of the myriad of different opinions of how I should be handling things. I'm tired of the gripping anxiety that sends any semblance of rationality straight out the window. I'm tired of letting one person have this much control over my emotions.


Friday Night


Karen, Maria and I met up with our friend, Eric, for dinner at Butter for Restaurant Week.


I could spend hours writing a review for this restaurant. It was everything that you want a dining experience to be. Fabulous service (the adorable waiter wasn't even remotely condescending when I asked questions about the wine) and food that was absolutely to DIE for.


To say that I am enamored and would gladly marry this restaurant is an understatement.

Saturday I exercised my rights as the lease-holder to my apartment and informed all of my roommates that specific cleaning jobs were being instated, as a few apartment members seem to have forgotten recently how to yield a broom. It turned into cleaning day at my apartment, complete with a visit from our Super who 'snaked' our shower drain and enabled us to now shower without water pooling around our ankles by the time we are done.

Later that night, Karen and I grabbed some dinner then went to a movie. Our 'date night'. We excitedly planned for our upcoming trip to Montreal and I basked in the comfort of being with my very best friend. We laugh when people tell us to just make our lives easier and marry each other, but honest-to-god, I could spend the rest of my life living with Karen and some cats, of course, and be perfectly content.

On Sunday, I met up with Spatch, who takes me out to Ana's place. I am immediately in love with Ana's filled-to-the-gills apartment, which is also home to her 2 cats. We spend the day lounging and talking with all the different people who stop by. I spend some quality time making bacon for everyone, then Spatch and I set up the massage table and start doling out 4 handed massages. I am uncertain of my movements, having only given the most amateur of massages to friends and boyfriends over the years, but Spatch is gentle with her instructions, and we find that we work together well, reading each other's movements. And I am struck by how glad I am that we are friends.

Today I am back at work and having had to reschedule my Dr's appointment this week due to some last minute meetings, am trying to devise a new lifestyle to naturally help out with my increasingly worse anxiety. I am reading about natural supplements and foods which are proven to decrease cortisol levels.

I am also considering removing men from my life completely......

Today's Title from: Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park

Labels: Ana, Oscar, Spatch

The ride home from Brooklyn was long. And it was the 2nd time in 24 hours that I fell asleep on the subway, something that I have to be REALLY tired to do. My head was fuzzy with memories I was trying to imprint in my brain in all their intricate detail.

The dinner party was at the same apartment as the party I recently went to with Spatch, and in the daylight, I found the neighborhood to be adorable and charming, not nearly as menacing as the last time I was there (although on my way back to the subway later, I was followed by a very creepy man who made weird noises at me, so I'm back to being afraid of the neighborhood).

As I walked in the door, I was greeting with lovely smells and an overwhelming feeling of being underdressed, as I was the only female not in a skirt/dress there.

As always, everyone was outrageously friendly. I knew almost no one there, and Spatch sat with me for the first little bit as I got comfortable, but had some hostessing duties to attend to and left me to my own devices. I found myself immersed in a conversation with a magician, named Jeremiah, with a million fetishes, who later played with my hair for hours and who listened to the story of The Italian with rapt appention.

As I surveyed the room and the tall, red-headed man sitting in front of me, I found myself experiencing something I haven't experienced in a while.

"Ana," I said. "I realize that Jeff is white, but he is smoking hot and I would totally make out with him."

Shocked by my admission, Ana encouraged me to go for it. I declined, having been with Oscar less than 24 hours previously. But I was pleased to realize that I was maybe finally ready to step out of my comfort zone and be more open about who to date.

My lust for Jeff only intensified after he spoon-fed me rum soaked watermelon and bananas with melted chocolate. When our eyes would meet occasionally, I would suddenly get shy, nervous and unsure and look away before he could see the longing in my eyes. I was in over my head and my natural flirtatious abilities were failing me miserably.

Leaving was a struggle. It was getting late and I had a long train ride in front of me. The last thing I wanted to do was leave. I find myself frightening comfortable in my own skin when hanging out with Spatch's friends.

And I really didn't want to leave Jeff and the twinkle in his eye.

Today's Title From: Get Your Freak On by Missy Elliot

Labels: Ana, Spatch

Ahem.

In an amoxicillin/thera-flu/aleve induced coma on Friday, I, uh, may have accidentally rejected some comments. It was not intentional! I was confused about all the buttons!

So, I offer my sincerest apologies to Shaun, A Lover and a Fighter, Coco and L. Luckily, I get all my comments emailed to me, so I still have a copy of all your lovely words and they will bring me much warmth in the months to come, I'm sure.

Oscar. How I needlessly worried about him.

Here's the rundown:

Thursday night, he called me and I informed him that I was ill, and I feel like I made it pretty clear it wasn't any pansy illness, but this was Wanting-To-Die Sick. He offered his condolences and told me he would call me on Friday to check up on me.

Haven't heard a word from him since.

Seriously.

Did I mention that was Thursday?

Nice knowing ya! See ya!

I think the fact that I'm not really that upset about it is a good indicator that we weren't headed for true love anyway.

Moving on.

I'm feeling better. It still hurts everytime I swallow, but I no longer have to prepare myself for the pain of each swallow by gripping tightly to whatever is closest to me. So that's good. I was having some trouble sleeping, due to the extreme phlegm in my throat, as it would close up my airway and I'd wake myself up because I couldn't breathe (FUN!), but then Karen introduced me to the most wonderful invention ever. Theraflu in a tea-like form. DING DONG.

Hands down the best sleep I've ever had 2 nights in a row, which I think is probably a lot of the reason that I am feeling so much better.

Plus, I had a really fantastic weekend.

Saturday, Karen and I went out to Long Beach again for the day. We had hoped to get ourselves some lovely color on the beach, but the sun did not cooperate and we were forced to pack it in shortly after arriving due to extreme cold. Luckily, Maria lives mere blocks from the beach, so we went back to her place, ate some food and drank some beer and hung out with some others friends whose beach plans had been thwarted by the weather.

We also played approximately 2-3 hours of Guitar Hero. The greatest video game ever invented.

Then we all had dinner together. Then Karen and I hit the 11:13 train back to Manhattan, and I have never been more glad in my entire life to snuggle into my bed.
___________________________________________________________________

Sunday morning, I wake to a text from Spatch, sent at 3:40 am the night before requesting gym or brunch? I assess my physical state and text back that maybe we should stick to brunch.

Spatch, Ana and I meet at Alice's Tea Cup (my FAVORITE brunch place) at 12:30 and manage to avoid an hour and a half wait. The three of us are such an interesting mix, I am so glad that circumstances have brought us together, because there's no way we ever would have met otherwise. We talk and talk and talk. About alter egos and the trouble with being known by 2 different names, about how Big Production Sex isn't always what we want and about my frustrations with my less-than-attentive doctor.

After brunch we head back to Spatch's place and I am green with envy at her new location and the adorable dog she gets to live with. We lounge on her bed as we discuss locations for some new lights she purchased at a stoop sale. I'm comfortable and full. I could have happily stayed on Spatch's bed for the entire day, cuddling with the dog and hearing Ana and Spatch's stories about the Burning Man community. I leave them, consoled in the knowledge that I will be seeing them again on Thursday.

Today's Title from: 9 Crimes by Damien Rice

Labels: Ana, Oscar, Spatch, tonsils