When you are single, they always say you will meet someone fabulous walking through aisles of a supermarket. They claim if you join a group of some kind, do some type of charitable work, possibly plant a tree in some sort of community garden, he will be there. Your soul mate. He will approach you in a parking lot (creepy), you will meet him in a bookstore (lurking behind a shelf somewhere), you will lock eyes in a coffee shop somewhere and he will approach your table...the people that give this dating advice have never been to New York. Okay, okay, so it does happen. Sometimes. People meet people in public places. In fact, it happened to my mother, but it is rare.
It happened one time early on after my divorce. Out to dinner with my family for my sisters birthday I locked eyes with a very handsome stranger. He was very cute, and very not-my-type. After a virtual staring contest and 2 appletini's later, I summoned up the courage, with the encouragement (albeit inappropriate) from my sister to send this handsome stranger a drink. The waitress informed us he ordered a beer and when we asked if he was cute she told us he had a thick accent like he was not from NYC (I believe red-neck was the exact term she used), and she had assessed there was some type of missing tooth. Figures.
Minutes later he approached our table. He said he was not from New York City but was here for work. "What type of work do you do?" I asked this toothless hick stranger. "I play hockey for a team in Pittsburgh, we are in town to play the Rangers". Are you kidding me? a Penguin? It explains the missing teeth! He asked for my number and asked if I wanted to come to the game tomorrow. I told him I would be cheering for the Rangers, but I would go. As I left the restaurant an hour later he and his teammate suddenly had a posse of groupies or prostitutes of some kind surrounding their table. I waved awkwardly and he said he would call me, which he did, at 12 midnight and asked me to hang out. What? Was this real? I was getting booty called by a player for the NHL? I said no thanks, but was a bit flattered and quickly erased him from my mind. 3 months later i read in the paper that he got married. Engaged no doubt when he called me. Men are gross I thought, and the stereotypes regarding pro athletes was obviously true!
Well, it happened again. The dating unicorn, as I like to call it, an urban myth if you will, when a man and woman meet by coincidence in a public place. Where drunken bar talk is not involved and you lock eyes and everything falls into place, whether it be while picking cereal in the cereal aisle, working in a soup kitchen, or praying in some type of religious establishment. Only this time it was at a swank restaurant on the Upper East side.
I had met a male friend for dinner and went to the back to use the bathroom as I was returning to my table the hostess was escorting two men to their table when i locked eyes with one of them. He was insanely handsome and I flashed my greatest Darcy smile at him without even realizing I was doing it. He stopped in his tracks and smiled back. It was exactly as you picture it to be, only better, because it was real. I quickly prayed he wasn't married, promised to go to services on the high holidays this year if he wasn't and returned to my table. An hour or so later he was leaving the restaurant and had to walk past my table to exit. Again, I summoned my inner light and shot him my most dazzling smile. Quickly eyeing my dinner date he asked if we knew each other.
"I don't know. Do we?" I asked coyly, knowing that we did not, but hoping we would soon.
"I'm Jonathan" He said, again eyeing my male dinner partner with suspicion.
"I'm Darcy. Do you know me?"
He smirked and said he wasn't sure.
"Did we date?" I asked, knowing that we didn't, but at this point i couldn't control my shameless flirting.
"I don't know, did we?" he said.
"For six months, I think." I giggled at my own joke. It was shameful. I had to suppress the voice in my head that was screaming "thank you, thank you very much, I'll be here all night"
But like every other New York story where boy smiles at girl, girl smiles back, boy gets off the subway and it becomes nothing more than a craigslist missed connection, he said to have a good dinner and i watched him walk out of the restaurant.
Just like in back to the future when peoples faces start to disappear off the of the pictures as history starts to change, the same thing happened with our imagined relationship. Sigh. Back to my sushi and my dinner date.
My dinner date's cell phone rang. "It's my girlfriend, be right back" He stepped out of the restaurant to talk to her in a quiet place, when suddenly the hostess appeared at our table.
"Are you Darcy?" she asked. Couldn't be a stitch past 24 and not a wrinkle in sight.
"Yes?" I said, not sure where this was going.
"You have a phone call."
I didn't know what to make of this. Who knew where I was. Was my child okay? Oh my goodness. My child. is there some type of emergency? It quickly dawned on me that if there was an emergency they would try my cell phone first and not some random restaurant no one even knew I was at.
I followed the hostess to her stand and she handed me the phone.
"Hello?" I said.
"Darcy? It's Jonathan, from 5 minutes ago".
Was this really happening? Was I really the star of my own private romantic comedy? These things only happened in Sandra Bullock movies. I could not even fathom this to be real.
"Oh yes, hi Jonathan." Yea, hi Jonathan, like I had already forgotten who he was.
"Hi, listen, I wanted to ask you to dinner, but wasn't sure if you were there on a date with that guy. If you weren't and you would like to have dinner with me I'd love to take you out. I couldn't let this night pass without trying everything I could to see you again"
"Sure, that would be great" Is really all I remember saying at first. But then it happened. Barbara Walters invaded my body and a barrage of questing ensued right from the hostess stands telephone. "are you married? how old are you? 40? oh divorced. Do you have children? No? oh, I do, yes one. yes. What do you do? Investment Banking? Huh. where are you from? I see. What is your last name? Oh! You're Jewish?!" Like any diligent woman, I was collecting my facts and assessed that Jonathan, 40, Jewish, investment banker, divorced with no children would be a suitable dinner date. I gave him my number and walked back to my table feeling like the hottest girl in town. I was sure it was the new belt I had been bullied into buying at big drop only a week earlier. I never owned a belt, but it had to be good luck, or a good look for me. It was definitely the belt. I couldn't remember Jonathan's last name, so I was not able to do my run of the mill google-facebook-zabasearch-ecourts extravaganza. But he texted me and just like that, we had a date for Thursday.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Can You Be Friends After a De-Friend?
Dating in a world with so many mediums is tough. If you have seen the movie "he's just not that into you" you will remember the scene when Drew Barrymore is explaining that there are so many complicated ways to figure out if you are getting dissed, you have to check your email, your texts, your voicemail, your Facebook, your twitter...And it's true. In a world with so many new and exciting ways to keep in touch, comes major trouble for dating.
Let's look at the facts. You meet a great guy. He sends you a Facebook friend request. You look at his pictures. He's cute! You realize you have friends in common. He can't be that bad! He is randomly friends with your best friend from 3rd grade. He has to be a good guy. She was nice. She let you play with her cabbage patch kid when you couldn't yet obtain one because they were sold out everywhere. He has pictures with his nieces and nephews and it looks like he is being nice to them. Awwwwwww. So cute. His status updates are witty. He is funny AND smart. To be witty you have to be smart. He is a freakin' genius. Did he actually just quote Tribe Called Quest? He is cool too! You could love him. You could one day have your facebook status set to "Darcy is In a Relationship with New Facebook Guy".
Suddenly he adds a new Facebook friend. Its a girl. She is cute. Who is she? Why weren't they friends last week? How did he find her? Do they have friends in common? When he said he was going out to dinner with his grandma last night was he really having drinks with his new Facebook friend? Suddenly someone tags him in a picture. He is at that new place in the meat packing district that has a list. How did he get on that list? Is he cooler than you thought? Maybe he is too cool for you. He is sitting with girls in the picture. Who are they? What? One of them just planted an apple tree on his farm. Are they moving in together? Why are they milking each other's farmville cows? Wait! He just responded to an event next Thursday. It is in an art gallery and 114 people are attending. Guess you aren't seeing him next Thursday. Who are the 245 people that haven't responded yet? Why weren't you invited??? And so on and so on and so on.
Let's call him Andre. He just moved back to the city from Texas. Southern guys are nice right? Gentleman? We have our first date on Valentines day. I send him a text before the date:
"I know it's Valentines day, but please don't propose. It will be awkward and I am not ready for the commitment" He responds "But I love you". He gets my humor so the date won't be a total disaster. We meet for margaritas. Tequila always makes me fall in love, or at least in like. On our first date we plan our wedding in Vegas and name our unborn children. I like him. Not enough to actually marry him, but I will go out with him again.
Andre really likes me. He emails the friend that set him up that it was basically the best set up ever. We set another date. Dinner and Jay Z at MSG. It's fun, but I realize he isn't for me. He seems stubborn and controlling. He isn't Jewish. We go out a few more times, as he is funny and I am bored. He even brings me to dinner with his mother. A lovely woman. Now I am starting to like him. He seems like a really nice guy. He is patient with my crazy schedule. I tell myself this is who I should be dating. A nice guy. From the south. Who likes Obama even though he is from Texas. He thinks I am beautiful and funny. He tells me I am one of the smartest girls he ever met. I know he is dead wrong but nod and agree. When he picks me up for our dates he smells a bit like liquor which strikes me as odd and a bit alcoholic, but I tell myself that is what Texans do. He introduces me to all his friends, and constantly complains to me that he thinks he likes me so much more than I like him. I decide this is must be what its like to be dating a girl.
A month and a half into dating Andre, we go to dinner. On the way to the restaurant I write something funny about Andre's facebook status on his wall. Andre and I are best facebook friends. We might even hit each other with the comfy pillows.
My brother in law calls. I answer at the table. Andre yells at me and tells me I am rude for taking a call during dinner. It creeps me out that he got so angry but the Martinis are numbing the fear. Soon we are sharing a sea bass and kissing at the table. We made up. I decide to sleep at his house for the first time. In the middle of the night I am awoken by Andre doing things around the house. I glance at the clock and its 4 am. Where is my phone?! I need my phone. i always sleep with it next to me in case of emergency. I go into his living room and look by my bag and coat. No phone. I know for 100% certainty I left it there. I ask Andre to call my phone cause i can't find it anywhere. He tells me he will find it. He returns to me holding the phone and tells me it was on his kitchen counter. I know for 100% certainty I had never stepped foot in his kitchen.
I look at my phone. I notice some emails that were read that i didn't read. I think my mind is playing tricks on me and I had possibly had more to drink than I realized. Andre tells me to get back into bed and gives me his favorite blanket. I fall asleep and wake up at 7 am. Andre is already awake and on his computer.
"good morning gorgeous, you look so beautiful. Can I make you coffee? Breakfast? I will make you whatever breakfast you want." I think to myself that I am proud of myself for sticking with Andre. Finally I chose a nice guy. I agree to a cup of coffee that turns into two. Andre gives me the paper and asks me to hang out. I realize I have to run. I need to get to work.
Less than a half hour later I am home and on the phone with one of my best friends. I tell her I just spent the night at Andre's house. I tell her he yelled at me about using the phone at dinner but other than that he was a total gentleman. I tell her I will email her a picture of him. I log on to facebook and go to his page so I can copy and paste a picture from his profile.
It gives me the option of adding Andre as a friend. Huh? He is my friend. I just got back from his house 10 minutes ago. Confused I refresh the page. It is staring at me mockingly. "ADD AS FRIEND". I text Andre "Defriended?? Ouch." Andre explains he gets the sense he likes me much more than I like him and that I don't take him seriously. I am confused beyond belief. What about the blueberry pancakes he was just offering to make me? What about my second cup of coffee he was squeezing out of a french press? "what are you talking about???" i ask. He tells me its how he "feels". I realize Andre might be watching more Oprah than he leads on.
I don't hear from Andre for 24 hours when I finally ask him if we are on for the concert that night we are supposed to attend. He tells me he is tired and going to watch basketball with his friend. I am knocked off my feet. BUT ANDRE, YOU WERE CRAZY ABOUT ME. There is more to this story but I don't know what it is yet.
After two days of not hearing from Andre he sends me a drunk text at 1 am. He confesses to me that he went through my phone when I was sleeping (I KNEW I HADN'T LEFT IT IN THE KITCHEN) and that he saw some risque texts between me and a guy, we will call Adam. Little does he know Adam is a very old dear friend with whom I have never even come close to an inappropriate encounter with, we just share the same raunchy humor. Andre had taken my TEXT out of conTEXT and ruined everything. Gone was our farm, gone were our tagged facebook photos, gone was our "friend"-ship. He wrote me some apology manifesto emails. I told him for the first time in 6 years since owning a blackberry, I now had a password on it. And the password was Andre. 3 Weeks later Andre was listed as being "In a Relationship" on his Facebook page, which by the way, he never realized was public.
Wah Wahhh
Let's look at the facts. You meet a great guy. He sends you a Facebook friend request. You look at his pictures. He's cute! You realize you have friends in common. He can't be that bad! He is randomly friends with your best friend from 3rd grade. He has to be a good guy. She was nice. She let you play with her cabbage patch kid when you couldn't yet obtain one because they were sold out everywhere. He has pictures with his nieces and nephews and it looks like he is being nice to them. Awwwwwww. So cute. His status updates are witty. He is funny AND smart. To be witty you have to be smart. He is a freakin' genius. Did he actually just quote Tribe Called Quest? He is cool too! You could love him. You could one day have your facebook status set to "Darcy is In a Relationship with New Facebook Guy".
Suddenly he adds a new Facebook friend. Its a girl. She is cute. Who is she? Why weren't they friends last week? How did he find her? Do they have friends in common? When he said he was going out to dinner with his grandma last night was he really having drinks with his new Facebook friend? Suddenly someone tags him in a picture. He is at that new place in the meat packing district that has a list. How did he get on that list? Is he cooler than you thought? Maybe he is too cool for you. He is sitting with girls in the picture. Who are they? What? One of them just planted an apple tree on his farm. Are they moving in together? Why are they milking each other's farmville cows? Wait! He just responded to an event next Thursday. It is in an art gallery and 114 people are attending. Guess you aren't seeing him next Thursday. Who are the 245 people that haven't responded yet? Why weren't you invited??? And so on and so on and so on.
Let's call him Andre. He just moved back to the city from Texas. Southern guys are nice right? Gentleman? We have our first date on Valentines day. I send him a text before the date:
"I know it's Valentines day, but please don't propose. It will be awkward and I am not ready for the commitment" He responds "But I love you". He gets my humor so the date won't be a total disaster. We meet for margaritas. Tequila always makes me fall in love, or at least in like. On our first date we plan our wedding in Vegas and name our unborn children. I like him. Not enough to actually marry him, but I will go out with him again.
Andre really likes me. He emails the friend that set him up that it was basically the best set up ever. We set another date. Dinner and Jay Z at MSG. It's fun, but I realize he isn't for me. He seems stubborn and controlling. He isn't Jewish. We go out a few more times, as he is funny and I am bored. He even brings me to dinner with his mother. A lovely woman. Now I am starting to like him. He seems like a really nice guy. He is patient with my crazy schedule. I tell myself this is who I should be dating. A nice guy. From the south. Who likes Obama even though he is from Texas. He thinks I am beautiful and funny. He tells me I am one of the smartest girls he ever met. I know he is dead wrong but nod and agree. When he picks me up for our dates he smells a bit like liquor which strikes me as odd and a bit alcoholic, but I tell myself that is what Texans do. He introduces me to all his friends, and constantly complains to me that he thinks he likes me so much more than I like him. I decide this is must be what its like to be dating a girl.
A month and a half into dating Andre, we go to dinner. On the way to the restaurant I write something funny about Andre's facebook status on his wall. Andre and I are best facebook friends. We might even hit each other with the comfy pillows.
My brother in law calls. I answer at the table. Andre yells at me and tells me I am rude for taking a call during dinner. It creeps me out that he got so angry but the Martinis are numbing the fear. Soon we are sharing a sea bass and kissing at the table. We made up. I decide to sleep at his house for the first time. In the middle of the night I am awoken by Andre doing things around the house. I glance at the clock and its 4 am. Where is my phone?! I need my phone. i always sleep with it next to me in case of emergency. I go into his living room and look by my bag and coat. No phone. I know for 100% certainty I left it there. I ask Andre to call my phone cause i can't find it anywhere. He tells me he will find it. He returns to me holding the phone and tells me it was on his kitchen counter. I know for 100% certainty I had never stepped foot in his kitchen.
I look at my phone. I notice some emails that were read that i didn't read. I think my mind is playing tricks on me and I had possibly had more to drink than I realized. Andre tells me to get back into bed and gives me his favorite blanket. I fall asleep and wake up at 7 am. Andre is already awake and on his computer.
"good morning gorgeous, you look so beautiful. Can I make you coffee? Breakfast? I will make you whatever breakfast you want." I think to myself that I am proud of myself for sticking with Andre. Finally I chose a nice guy. I agree to a cup of coffee that turns into two. Andre gives me the paper and asks me to hang out. I realize I have to run. I need to get to work.
Less than a half hour later I am home and on the phone with one of my best friends. I tell her I just spent the night at Andre's house. I tell her he yelled at me about using the phone at dinner but other than that he was a total gentleman. I tell her I will email her a picture of him. I log on to facebook and go to his page so I can copy and paste a picture from his profile.
It gives me the option of adding Andre as a friend. Huh? He is my friend. I just got back from his house 10 minutes ago. Confused I refresh the page. It is staring at me mockingly. "ADD AS FRIEND". I text Andre "Defriended?? Ouch." Andre explains he gets the sense he likes me much more than I like him and that I don't take him seriously. I am confused beyond belief. What about the blueberry pancakes he was just offering to make me? What about my second cup of coffee he was squeezing out of a french press? "what are you talking about???" i ask. He tells me its how he "feels". I realize Andre might be watching more Oprah than he leads on.
I don't hear from Andre for 24 hours when I finally ask him if we are on for the concert that night we are supposed to attend. He tells me he is tired and going to watch basketball with his friend. I am knocked off my feet. BUT ANDRE, YOU WERE CRAZY ABOUT ME. There is more to this story but I don't know what it is yet.
After two days of not hearing from Andre he sends me a drunk text at 1 am. He confesses to me that he went through my phone when I was sleeping (I KNEW I HADN'T LEFT IT IN THE KITCHEN) and that he saw some risque texts between me and a guy, we will call Adam. Little does he know Adam is a very old dear friend with whom I have never even come close to an inappropriate encounter with, we just share the same raunchy humor. Andre had taken my TEXT out of conTEXT and ruined everything. Gone was our farm, gone were our tagged facebook photos, gone was our "friend"-ship. He wrote me some apology manifesto emails. I told him for the first time in 6 years since owning a blackberry, I now had a password on it. And the password was Andre. 3 Weeks later Andre was listed as being "In a Relationship" on his Facebook page, which by the way, he never realized was public.
Wah Wahhh
Your Vagina Has Cancer
It was a beautiful spring day. I had just had lunch with one of my current beau's, a man i am casually dating whom I am taking it incredibly slow with and whom I see once every other week or so. On the off weeks, we schedule dates, but i usually cancel. Having texted all morning in between appointments with a new client in the village, he invites me to an impromptu lunch date by my office to where i have just returned.
I pick a nice restaurant, that will remain nameless, which has excellent food, a great atmosphere, but is a bit more low profile than some of the other high profile lunch haunts on Madison avenue where I can possibly run into someone at any time. Dating as a mom in New York City is funny like that. I don't want to be very public about it, especially since Manhattan (read Manhattan Jews) is such a small world and everyone knows everyone and everyone has gone to camp, college, teen tours, their kids are in the same class, etc, etc, etc. Before you know it, your date is over before it even began because your best friends cousin dated this guy when they were 20 and he never called her back and has been forever labeled a player and everyone absolutely FORBIDS you to even go for coffee with this terrible man.
I sit down at the table and wait. wouldn't you know some friends are suddenly seated at the very next table. I smile politely and plant my face in the menu, hoping that they don't notice I am meeting...gasp...a date. My date shows up and as always its very "nice". we exchange some witty banter, I tell some inappropriate stories. He looks at me in admiration as I sprinkle my conversation with the word tits and polish off my glass of Savignon Blanc, which is really his chardonnay but i didn't want to make a big deal about it (even though i don't love chardonnay). He asks me out for next week. I say yes, knowing inside I may possibly cancel.
He is a bit short for me and when I wear heels he seems exactly my height, if not an inch shorter which is usually a deal breaker for me. I will divulge this early. I am tall and I love to wear heels on a date. I am used to dating very very tall men, above 6'2" so my short isn't always someone else's short, but everything is relative. I would prefer borderline obese to short when it comes to the men I date, but this is a nice guy, and surprisingly funny. He has an unexpected tattoo and for an upper east side lawyer that is rare. i am pleasantly surprised to learn this at dinner one night. It makes me like him more since I believe it gives him the edge I think he is missing.
I say goodbye to him outside the restaurant and head down Madison to my next appointment with my new client. I have a spring in my step. Maybe its the new client, maybe its the chardonnay. I just had a surprisingly good lunch date with a guy who really likes me and I don't totally dislike. Either way, I am feeling good and nothing can bring me down.
Suddenly a woman walks by me. She is dressed sensibly, in her late 40's. She takes 2 steps back and stops me. "Excuse me!" she says. "Your aura! It's incredible! I can see it all around you shining bright!" Now, I am a believer of the supernatural and have regular psychic readings, so she happened to pick the right girl. "Really?" I say. Beaming. Maybe things are looking up for me, I think to myself.
"Yes! They are sending me so many messages for you!" I am not sure who this proverbial "they" is, but I like it just as much. I will take any "they". I will take "they" the doorman's union. I will take "they" the people that play farmville. I will take it. It sounds positive.
"I am India! What is your name?"
"Darcy!" I say, hoping this will send more messages from the "they"
Before I know it she shuffles me to the side on the sidewalk. "The messages are so strong! They are sending you messages. I need to get them to you. They said you are here on this earth to do incredible things! They said you are here to break new ground and this world hasn't seen the best of you yet"
I eat of each spoonful of crap she is feeding me, trying to decipher its meaning even though somewhere deep inside she is a whack job. Suddenly she reaches into her fanny pack, yes, she had on a fanny pack, which now makes me wonder why I describe her as sensibly dressed, though fanny packs are hands free and in a sense sensible no? She takes out a tiny black bag. I can see where this is going. its some sort of stones, I think psychics call them ruins, but maybe I am confusing psychics with archaeologists at this point. She tells me she is going to give me a quick reading.
"Is this going to cost me money?" I ask.
"Well people pay me, if you want you can." She says with her intense smile and crazy eyes.
"I have no money and I am actually on a way to a meeting. I should get going." At this point I realize this is all a scam and I am trying to extract myself from the steps of the church I am somehow sitting on at this point. I always think I would not help the man try to find his puppy, but maybe I am that girl.
"That's okay" she pleads, "I will walk you to the nearest ATM machine."
Is this woman kidding me? We have gone from Madison avenue to deliverance in 40 seconds flat.
"No, I am fine, you aren't walking me to an ATM machine"
Suddenly India goes from dear lady you would like as your nanny to crazy grifter with a fanny pack in a flash. She screams to me in desperation "They are sending me messages you need to hear, you have an infection inside that is turning into cancer in your vagina! I can't believe they did this to you."
"listen up!" I say "this started off very positive and is suddenly more creepy than carneys. I am walking away and don't want you to say another word.
"This is positive. I am telling you how to cure yourself of the cancer in your vagina."
She keeps screaming to me about my cancerous vagina as I walk away as quickly as possible, knowing she is crazy but thinking I need to call my gyno asap.
Fitting I think to myself. It's all fun and games til someone tells you your vagina has cancer. And as I heard many times before, the SNL theme song of Debbie Downer plays in my head. Wah wahhhh
I pick a nice restaurant, that will remain nameless, which has excellent food, a great atmosphere, but is a bit more low profile than some of the other high profile lunch haunts on Madison avenue where I can possibly run into someone at any time. Dating as a mom in New York City is funny like that. I don't want to be very public about it, especially since Manhattan (read Manhattan Jews) is such a small world and everyone knows everyone and everyone has gone to camp, college, teen tours, their kids are in the same class, etc, etc, etc. Before you know it, your date is over before it even began because your best friends cousin dated this guy when they were 20 and he never called her back and has been forever labeled a player and everyone absolutely FORBIDS you to even go for coffee with this terrible man.
I sit down at the table and wait. wouldn't you know some friends are suddenly seated at the very next table. I smile politely and plant my face in the menu, hoping that they don't notice I am meeting...gasp...a date. My date shows up and as always its very "nice". we exchange some witty banter, I tell some inappropriate stories. He looks at me in admiration as I sprinkle my conversation with the word tits and polish off my glass of Savignon Blanc, which is really his chardonnay but i didn't want to make a big deal about it (even though i don't love chardonnay). He asks me out for next week. I say yes, knowing inside I may possibly cancel.
He is a bit short for me and when I wear heels he seems exactly my height, if not an inch shorter which is usually a deal breaker for me. I will divulge this early. I am tall and I love to wear heels on a date. I am used to dating very very tall men, above 6'2" so my short isn't always someone else's short, but everything is relative. I would prefer borderline obese to short when it comes to the men I date, but this is a nice guy, and surprisingly funny. He has an unexpected tattoo and for an upper east side lawyer that is rare. i am pleasantly surprised to learn this at dinner one night. It makes me like him more since I believe it gives him the edge I think he is missing.
I say goodbye to him outside the restaurant and head down Madison to my next appointment with my new client. I have a spring in my step. Maybe its the new client, maybe its the chardonnay. I just had a surprisingly good lunch date with a guy who really likes me and I don't totally dislike. Either way, I am feeling good and nothing can bring me down.
Suddenly a woman walks by me. She is dressed sensibly, in her late 40's. She takes 2 steps back and stops me. "Excuse me!" she says. "Your aura! It's incredible! I can see it all around you shining bright!" Now, I am a believer of the supernatural and have regular psychic readings, so she happened to pick the right girl. "Really?" I say. Beaming. Maybe things are looking up for me, I think to myself.
"Yes! They are sending me so many messages for you!" I am not sure who this proverbial "they" is, but I like it just as much. I will take any "they". I will take "they" the doorman's union. I will take "they" the people that play farmville. I will take it. It sounds positive.
"I am India! What is your name?"
"Darcy!" I say, hoping this will send more messages from the "they"
Before I know it she shuffles me to the side on the sidewalk. "The messages are so strong! They are sending you messages. I need to get them to you. They said you are here on this earth to do incredible things! They said you are here to break new ground and this world hasn't seen the best of you yet"
I eat of each spoonful of crap she is feeding me, trying to decipher its meaning even though somewhere deep inside she is a whack job. Suddenly she reaches into her fanny pack, yes, she had on a fanny pack, which now makes me wonder why I describe her as sensibly dressed, though fanny packs are hands free and in a sense sensible no? She takes out a tiny black bag. I can see where this is going. its some sort of stones, I think psychics call them ruins, but maybe I am confusing psychics with archaeologists at this point. She tells me she is going to give me a quick reading.
"Is this going to cost me money?" I ask.
"Well people pay me, if you want you can." She says with her intense smile and crazy eyes.
"I have no money and I am actually on a way to a meeting. I should get going." At this point I realize this is all a scam and I am trying to extract myself from the steps of the church I am somehow sitting on at this point. I always think I would not help the man try to find his puppy, but maybe I am that girl.
"That's okay" she pleads, "I will walk you to the nearest ATM machine."
Is this woman kidding me? We have gone from Madison avenue to deliverance in 40 seconds flat.
"No, I am fine, you aren't walking me to an ATM machine"
Suddenly India goes from dear lady you would like as your nanny to crazy grifter with a fanny pack in a flash. She screams to me in desperation "They are sending me messages you need to hear, you have an infection inside that is turning into cancer in your vagina! I can't believe they did this to you."
"listen up!" I say "this started off very positive and is suddenly more creepy than carneys. I am walking away and don't want you to say another word.
"This is positive. I am telling you how to cure yourself of the cancer in your vagina."
She keeps screaming to me about my cancerous vagina as I walk away as quickly as possible, knowing she is crazy but thinking I need to call my gyno asap.
Fitting I think to myself. It's all fun and games til someone tells you your vagina has cancer. And as I heard many times before, the SNL theme song of Debbie Downer plays in my head. Wah wahhhh
Darcy Dates
I got married young. At the tender age of 23. To a great man. But i was young. And having been so young (in college) when I met my husband, i had never really been on the adult dating scene. 7 years of marriage and one child and one divorce later, I find myself out there dating in New York City. Sometimes my experiences are so insane, and after sharing them with friends I realize what I great story I have to tell. So here it goes. I will write what I can, when I can, so dear friends and strangers, or whoever reads this blog (if it is even public on line- I still don't understand what a blog is) can enjoy this wonderful crazy journey with me.
While my dating stories that pre-date this blog adventure are incredible and at times often unbelievable and they need to be written about, I am starting on this wonderful April 30, 2010 where I can only hope to have more dates going forward to write about. For now, I will write bits and pieces of what i have learned from my experiences. Names and locations will often be changed to protect the identity of my dates, who are often crazy and rather than need the protection of a changed name on a random blog, are in greater need of a padded room in bellevue. But i digress.
While my dating stories that pre-date this blog adventure are incredible and at times often unbelievable and they need to be written about, I am starting on this wonderful April 30, 2010 where I can only hope to have more dates going forward to write about. For now, I will write bits and pieces of what i have learned from my experiences. Names and locations will often be changed to protect the identity of my dates, who are often crazy and rather than need the protection of a changed name on a random blog, are in greater need of a padded room in bellevue. But i digress.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)