Unmatched.com

I have to be honest, as of late, i’ve been a DATING MACHINE. I guess when it rains it pours? It’s so flipping fun, but mamas exhausted, and mamas starting to get guys stories confused (#getittogethafreakshow!). One of the fine lads I’ve begun to date is a real life British hottie! SCORE! We went on our first date not this last Wednesday, but the Wednesday before, and I was so exhausted from my multiple dating escapades that I was a bit pessimistic going in (#bigmistakecausehesrad). I walked into the bar and he stood up (all 6’3 feet of awesome!) and I was immediately pretty smitten——THERE IS A GOD. I sat down to look at the whiskey based menu (ma fave—-5 pts for him) and he immediately asked the bartender what types of non-alcoholic drinks they could make that would be good. EXCUSE ME, COME AGAIN?????? Ahhhh come on universe, is this a joke? WTF?? COME ON. Is this a deal breaker? 

Now contrary to what we all maintain, alcohol plays a part in 97% of most first date interactions among 20 somethings, 30 somethings, and i’m sure 40 and up play the single way too—-unless you’re part of that long denim skirt wearing crowd (#nooffensetheyretotallycomingbackintostyle). It helps to loosen up our inhibitions, make us feel a bit more confident and sexy, and it’s just easy and conversational to order and sip on a bevy. Now, truth be told, lines get blurred easily in this case. It’s very easy to go over the “2 drink Patty Stanger” rule and get a lil too sauced either because a.) you like the dude and you pound your drinks by accident so you can hopefully MO by hour 3 or b.) you’re not sure if you’re into him, but should know by craft beer #4. Both can be dangerous, but Option b can be most dangerous in some senses because the mask of the alchy can make you think you’re actually clicking with someone where in real life, you may not. AHHHHH binge drinking. The silly things you make us believe and do…

So back to my hot brit that’s layin’ off the sauce. Let me clarify by saying he’s not abstaining from alcohol forever, he just decided it would benefit his marathon training to stop drinking while he’s running his face off like 20 miles a day. This streak will end after the 2012 Tokyo marathon the enda Feb! Ok, so anyways, I freak out a bit and rightfully so. I like this guy, but as absolutely ludicrous as it sounds, will I be funny, interesting, and wildly cute to him sans bevies? I’m a pretty confident chick, but like I said, alcohol is a social lubricant that we’re all dependent on and used to, I want to crawl up into a ball and die…yes I do. So he basically says “virgin bartenders choice” and I decide that I have to stay true to ma self and order a proper whiskey drink. I know we’re going to get into the discussion of why he’s not drinking but if I followed suit and didn’t get a drink, I wouldn’t be acting in true form which is to get a drink—-thus foiling the whole honestly factor of the interaction. We begin talking after we order, and immediately get into discussions about travel, family, NYC, and all the wonderful things we love about being in a big city. I didn’t even notice that the drinks had actually arrived at the table. WILD. We keep talking and realize the 3 hours had passed almost in an instant. We decided it was getting a bit late and he offered to walk me back to my apt. He asked me immediately in front of my door if he could see me for dinner Sunday and I of course said HELL YEYAHHH. Maybe the real me sans bevies is more of a force to be reckoned with than tipsy me? 

We decided to go to this awesome little farm to table hip spot in the Burg for a Sunday night dinner. Somehow my  nerves were back—-are we going to have stuff to talk about? Will he still like me when I’m kind of tired and lazy a la a Sunday early evening? Will I still think he’s pretty rad?  F, I really hope so. I roll up to meet him before heading out to dinner and my heart is beating like fidy million miles a minute. Here goes extreme sober dating round 2! Suddenly, we’re engulfed in conversation and smiles all over again…and holy sh*t, with NO drinks! Ok I had 1/2 of one, but whatevs. 4 hours passed and he was walking me back toward my house and BAM—-goodnight kiss and a request to see me Thursday. Ummmm YES please. Holy crap sober dating is AH-MAHZING. 

Our sober Thursday adventure (#yeahhhhdate3) included a walk thru the West Village, coffee and people watching at Joe, and Indie movie, and a drink (por moi) at an awesome little place near my apt. I was still nervous about how round 3 was going to go, but figured at this point the sober dating me had stepped up to the plate 2 times and we had hit it off, so what the hell, NOTHING to lose right? We had the best time—-laughs, smiles, hand holding. It’s crazy because you’re really getting to know someone and it’s not masked by the alcohol factor. I have to be honest, it’s uncharted territory. It makes things real because it’s just you being you. TRIPPY. Will the lesson here be that we should sober date all the time to get to know our PSM’s (Potench Soul Mates)? I mean, probably not, there are tons of people I know that have managed to forge long lasting relationships and even marriages based on a series of drunken dates, drunken MISTAKES (#notreallycauseitworked), drunken long-standing hook-ups turned relaishes, and assorted other tipsy times. I guess only time will tell for me and my british hottie. All I do know is, that it’s a whole new way of thinking and interacting (embarassingly enough) for yours truly and honestly, I really think I like it so far :)

So here’s a little diddy that i’ve been rocking out to lately that basically screams—-I want to dance around in my fave sequin dress with no one watching and rock out cause strangely enough, I think I may have a mini-crush on a really cute dude who’s fun and nice who doesn’t partake in alcoholic beverages at this point in time! TOOT TOOT!

So I realize that in the blogging world it’s a mortal sin to take a 40 day hiatus. I can’t believe it’s been that long myself and it hasn’t been for lack of wanting to write or continue to share my strokes of unbelievable luck with the mens—-believe me. I actually had a dating catastrophe that left me a bit winded and while the story will definitely be “blog worthy”, the heart hurt a little too much to get sassy via the web. However, I woke up this AM at 9 after getting home at 4am (post a hot date of many craft beers and a good night kiss…ohhh lala!) and I was immediately ready to post some ish and get back in ma swing! Stella officially has her f’ing groove back. 

My latest story actually has something to do with my dating faux paux—-in an effort to get over the crazy pants who tromped on my heart a bit, I decided it would be healthy to go on a couple of dates with this dude who was all up in my junk via text. I met him out one night randomly and his persistance was actually kind of attractive. He was a bit of a shawty (that neva bugs me) and he had a love of bourbon and indian food, so off the bat we had some crap in common. Plus, he had prominent facial features (#idieforabigschnoz) and really fun flowy hair that if we got to date 7 I would have def gone after him with some hair gel in hopes to create an ah-mahzing hawk! Plus, let’s be honest, the boy is a major MOC (Man of color=Ethnic hotness)—-which we know is clutch por moi. 

I digress….so anyways, we went to an EV neighborhood haunt for our first date called Niagra. Upstairs—-good music, bad beer (bad meaning PBR meaning…I love it!), hipstas, cool coasters. Downstairs—-bad excuse for a tiki bar where mama (me) and the ladies used to dance our faces off and convince dudes we thought were hot to join us in the photo booth for a funny photo sesh. Which let’s be honest, 99.7% of the time led to at least one kissy face pic! Toot Toot! We met there and had some decent convo and a couple of drinks. I think he must have hoovered drinks while I was in the little ladies room though because by the time we left he couldn’t talk about anything but how he wanted a hot dog (ummm delicious, but should have been clue one to hit the road?). So I went with him to get a dawg and our convo turned into how to date and not date a lady. I thought after my insightful wisdom that was cue one that we had bled into “friennnndddd territory”. Well, apparently not, because he was blowing up my spot 3 days later to take me out again. I thought to myself, is the key to snagging dudes giving them chick advice? Had I hit the jackpot of wisdom and finally figured out the secret to snagging the MOC of my dreams? 

The MOC continues to text me like it’s his J O B over the next week during my travels to Chicago and asks if he can take me to dinner. Ummmm yes? You’re cute, you’re taking me to a cash only delicious joint (#iainttakingoutcashbefo), and you’re persistent—-GOOD MOC! So I wear my hottest black dress (con spanx) and i’m rockin’ my new hair color and cut with the brand new fake lashes I got (I obvi went on a personal maitenance binge after the old corazon got broken—-better than being a hot mess in a trashy bar though…can I get a witness?). He was defo sweating the black dress which was rad. We had a nice dinner, pretty good convo, and grabbed a whiskey after (I like the stuff!). He proceeded to put his arm around my shoulder and kind of get in my face (sexily as i’m sure he intended it—-not so much?) as he spoke to me and asked me questions. We were talking about really innocent stuff like family  (at my direction of course) and he just blurted out “You have really nice muscular legs”. I was like ummmm “Thanks?”. I mean DUHHHH this is my body and I know these bad boys are a force to be reckoned with, but really? Was that neccessary on date 2? I don’t even know your last name, can we get that first before we get into sexy talk? That’s like date 6 territory at least.  Sheesh. So whatever, I did a courtesy makeout and went home. Much to his dismay as he was trying to get me to “come see his record collection”—-AS IF. I’m not the new kid on the block and i’m not ready to see the tighty whities you are probably sporting at this very moment. Not.yet.dude. 

He then asks me for a 3rd date. At this point i’m not really feeling it, but I resolve that this is a good thing to do to get my mind off the old achin’ heart. So whatever, I’ll have a drink with him and still say a big fat no when the lil persistent MOC tries to roll me to his apt to see his “couch” or something lame like that. OOOOKKKKK yeah, you’re couch. I reluctantly begin to get ready and it’s just feeling really off. I shove those feelings aside, put on ma hottest lil black skirt and try to get pumped up. I’m in the cab en route to meet the lil MOC and i’m texting with him and my bestie at the same time on the old Iphone. Below is the actual text convo after my bestie asks me “So where are you going to meet him?” Just so you know, “The French” is actually her french bulldog who I used as an excuse saying I was babysitting him so I didn’t even have to deal with the question of if I could stay over and blah blah blah. In real life i’m fully obsessed with the french. Here it goes!!!

Me: Going to a Tequila Bar…but I just want to curl up with the french and snooze.

MOC: The French?

Me (Shitting my pants I had txtd the wrong person): Haha sorry that was to my friend who’s french bulldog I am watching. She was sad I was leaving him because he has a cold :) 

MOC: Huh. Nice. 

Me: Come onnnnnnnn

MOC: …

Me: Ok now i’m confused? (at this point i’m sitting at the bar waiting for him)

MOC: I’ll tell you what, I have a couple of good movies. Do you want to come up and watch one? I don’t really feel like going out. 

Me: I’m here already and I would rather be out. I think it’s a bit soon for me to hang at your apt. If that’s not your speed, I totally understand. 

MOC: Nothing is going to happen, but up to you. But i’m really not going out after you just said you’re not into it. It’s a little distracting. 

Me: I think you took that the wrong way…if I wasn’t wanting to see you I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for you. I’m a pretty upfront person. I was trying to make my friend feel better. (At this point i’m like come on brotha, sack up and have some confidence in yo self even though i’m lying through my teeeeeeth! Show me some back bone!)

MOC: It’s cool, we can just call it off. 

ME; I have to be honest, I think you’re blowing this a bit out of proportion. I am into seeing you again, I’m dressed up waiting here. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. But if that’s not resonating with you, I can’t help that. (Boo yeahhh, i’m such an adult). 

MOC: Ok, Let’s go somewhere else. Burp Castle? 

***Did he really just try to put a ban-daid on the sitch with suggesting a place called “Burp Castle”?????***

Me (wait for 5 mins to txt back): I’m going to head home when I finish my drink. I’m a bit put off. 

MOC: Me too. 

And that was the story of beauty and the pushy lil MOC. Moral of the story is—-watch who the F you’re texting!!!!! And moral #2 is only go out with a dude if you are really excited about it. We’re all gems, and so are most dudes (most being the operative word—-the MOC was kind of a borderline gem, a bit pushy, but generally a good dude). We all deserve to have a date be receiprocated with a a guy or gal that’s equally into it. It usually takes at least 2 to 3 dates to figure it out, but if you know the sparks arent’ a flyin’, don’t accidentally text them that you would rather be spooning with an insanely cute french bulldog, just simply politely bow out and go your separate way.

This one goes out to all you arrant texters out there! Now obvi this aint ma theme song, but it’s such a good song to do the butterfly to on the D-Floor. Innocently of course. It also goes out to my favorite Frenchie in the world who saved me—-He is the reason for every season and the current man in ma life. He is also has a couch and enjoys movies :) Love you guys!

As a wise mullet man once sang (and lyrically topped the charts with, I might add..) “How can weeee beee lovers if we can’t be friends? How can we start over when the fighting never eeeennnnds??” Ok, I added that second sentence in just to create the mood and because it’s one of my fave lines in the song. A “go to” on my karaoke hot list for sure. Well the answer is, WE CAN’T. But here’s some food for thought…that doesn’t mean you need to send me a “friend request” so you can stalk my ish on facebook after our 1st date. Can I get a witness?

Admittedly, I come from a strange year of people (graduated HS in 1999 and college in 2003) that had a bit of a blip on the radar with regard to technology. We entered college (well some of us…and you know who you are P.L.S.H.) with beepers, graduated to a brick of a Nokia phone around end of Sophomore year, ended our University experiences with a ghetto flip phone and maybe one email account. No Myspace, No Facebook, and I don’t even think we had picture texting. Yes, this was only 7 years ago. When I first moved to NY, I remember seeing my first crackberry—-I was in total awe of the idea of getting “email on the go.” Wow, how times have changed. Now we have so many technological outlets that allow us to brand ourselves, blog our thoughts (#minesdabest), date our faces off (#borntodatefolife), and make our lives look ABSOLUTELY AWESOMELY PERFECT ALL THE TIME a la our FB profiles (“I’m swimming with dolphins and stingrays today, curing cancer tomorrow, weaving my own cloth, and then making dinner for ma boo Sunday with fresh herbs I grew in the garden!”….plleeeeeezzzzz), etc etc. So, because i do come from the age of the “golden children” (aka the kids who peck at their iphones because they don’t really know much about tech) I think it’s totally strange that dudes and chics think it’s perfectly normal to “friend” someone on facebook after the first time they meet them or take them out on a date (or go dutch…sorry gents!). I’ve learned the hard way—-I’ve accepted accelerated FB friend requests and then wondered if my Halloween 2009 Jazzercise instructor outfit with the thong leo freaked them out? The answer is yes, it did. That album is for friends and family :)  Let’s discuss furtha…shall we?? Now turn on the above video and open your mind to MB’s angel speak.  

Facebook orig started as a way for University (namely Ivy leaguers) to communicate, network, and KIT. Then about 5 years ago, they got real smart and opened it up to everyone. Then it basically became a wild network that now binds us all. I only know like 2 peeps without an FB profile, and it’s kind of like the people that said they would never get a cell phone—-you will ALL give in at some point. Now I don’t know about ya’ll, but i’m friends with people on FB from a couple different walks of my life—-hometown hotties, a couple rando church camp peeps from growing up who live off the land in some wilderness pasture, College friends, NY/Work friends, and then some of my fave international friends. As far as exes go—-I’m only friends with 2…Nach (#foroldtimessake) and one of my Brian’s (because he’s TOTALLY hot and I like to check out his pics every now and then. What? His abs are sick—-so shoot me!). I don’t like to “friend” those I date or accept “friendship” from those I date. For a couple of reasons I will name now—->

1.) When you have a non-descript relationship status marked on your page. It’s really f’ing stressful to figure out if you’re in the “It’s complicated”, “Single”, or non-descript groupings. Do you ask him? Does he ask you? Does it really become a convo you have? It’s nuts that these have become relationship milestones, but it ain’t going away guys. I say, basically, don’t change your status until you’re engaged or married—-that way people won’t be all up in your junk about it if it suddenly changes from “In a Relationship” to a ghost status “guess for yourself…”. 

2.) God forbid you stop dating and you run into that awkward sitch of “do we stay friends on FB?” It sounds trite, but it TOTALLY happens and we’ve all been there. I’ve personally been defriended by 3 guys i’ve dated in the past (i’ve de-friended 5). I chalk it up to “I’m so damn cute they can’t stop stalking my profile like every 10 mins” so they MUST defriend me before they go nuts! I mean it’s easy to be obsessed with me, I don’t blame em’. ha! No but really, can you handle seeing him in pics with other chicks and wondering if that’s his new betty? I’m not a jealous person, so I would rather “de-friend” than torture my brain. But to each their own (LADIES, DON’T TORTURE THYSELF—-DEEEE—-FRIENNNNDDD). 

3.) You in fact are the stalker and cyberly (is that a word?) become a stage-five clinger and hope to GOD that that whole “See who’s viewing your profile” thing doesn’t work because if it did, you’d look like a FREAK for how much you look at his profile. 

You know what, in conjunction with my last post, i’m instating a new rule: 

Rule #73: Facebook will be kept private until you’ve both met the parents and decided to open a joint checking account and/or live together and have a really cute french bulldog named Napoleon together. This way you know it’s toats serious and the chances of  you “de-friending” are slim to none. It’s not fun to see your friend # go down, and it just feels creepy and passive aggressive to press that “de-friend” button. Doesn’t it. It totally does. 

So ladies, set the precedent early…it’s hard to get into the circle of trust (all 720 of them!), you have to work to get in my life and on my FB friend list. The issues surrounding FB and relaishes are many this day in age. It aint worth it to cause drama and worry over something that didn’t even exist a mere 5 years ago. Ladies, I challenge you to keep your “friend requests” limited regarding the rico suave’s you date. Keep zeee profile to yourself till you know it’s serious and eliminate that drama fo yo mama…I know I toats am :) 

I’m so over being MIA—-bi-weekly posts start again NOW. So prep thyself. Mmmkay? I love you guys!

I’ve been flyin and trainin’ all over the 50 states these last three weeks and normally my accompaniment on these trips are 3-5 books I never actually pick up and read (but pretend like I will?), a stack of trashy mags, 4 packs of sweet mint gum (TMJ dawg?) and the cherry on that indulgent sundae is a crystal light lemonade packet and mamas smart water. Heeding the advice of my badass intern from this last summer, I picked up a copy of the book ”All The Rules: Time-tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right.” the other day.  We didn’t get TOO deep about personal stuff, let’s be honest, I do keep it profesh on the work front (esp with the internssss), but she overheard me speaking to my bestie one day and decided to step out and tell me a little secreto. “Have you ever heard of The Rules? It’s a book my mom gave to me about dating and how to snag dudes. I thought it was a load of crap but read it anyways…and voila! My boyfriend would move mountains for me. He is totally head over heels in love with me and I know it’s because I followed The Rules”. Ummm, ok, I had to at least give it a peek. Thanks Boo!

I know I know, it makes me sound like i’m in a super dooper hurry to lock down ma man. That’s NOT the case ladies, don’t lose faith in me. Mama’s fine at the pace she’s working at concerning the mens. But, I am a firm believer that it’s good to explore different worlds of thought—-whether it be with politics, religion, fashion (this can get political too…#ihatesweatersforlife), and why not how to date or snag a dude. Right? Hey, I’m open to hear what Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider have to say. Apparently, they are in “loving” and “healthy” relaishes with their men…so, I say, it could be a waste of a couple of hours and waste a bit of room in my carry-on for a couple of trips, or it could be the best trip to Barnes and Noble and $9.99 I ever spent in my life if these little pearls of wisdom end up working out and I find the nerd of my dreams. So I decided to rock out, Move Like Jagger, and read me some RULES! 

OK, so I got 5 pages in and fell asleep with my mouth open (gross…) and my skirt strangely hiked up…EMBARASSING! Plus, after the 5 pages, all they kept repeating was how if you follow the rules you’ll “find your soul mate”…if you follow the rules you’ll have a “real relationship for life”. If you break the rules it’s destined to effect your partnership FOREVVVERRRR….blah blah blah. SNOOOOOOOOZZZZZZZE. After my cat nap I woke back up and looked at the fatty paperback again and give it another go. Whatevs, it did have a fatty diamond rock on the front (#allgirlslikediamondseveniftheywontadmitit). The premise is that men are like animals. They love the hunt. They want to feel that they’ve won a prize at the end of this hunt…something they worked for and that wasn’t easy to capture. The real basis: Treat the guy you like as if you don’t like him that much at all. WOW apparently we’re going back to 1st grade. But if it worked for Ellen, Sherrie, and their friends, is it gonna work for moi? TRY AND WIN THIS HUNT…DARE YA.

Let’s go over some of the RULES togeths: 

Rule #3—-Dont’ stare at Men or Talk Too Much. BOOM I’m dead in the water. I tend to be a bit of a creeper and I talk FAR too much. Not really about myself, but about EVERYTHING else under the sun. I’m dead. I should quit now. Soul mate=never to be found. Thanks alot Ellen and Sherrie…biatches! Ok, Ok, lemme check out the next rules…Rule 4: Don’t meet him halfway or go Dutch on a date. DEAD IN THE WATER AGAIN. I have a problem with always doing the wallet grab and managing to be out with the dudes that actually accept the offer and “join forces” with you on the bill. AND, I usually try to make it a convenient location for them. F…Me + the Rules = Epic Fail. Ok, there are like 20 more, I have to be in line with at least a couple. Rule 5: Don’t Call and Rarely Accept his calls. BAM! I WIN. I never initiate the calls, and I like to make a dude call me twice. I loathe the idea of being needy, desperate, or too available. Always have. I never drunk dial a guy after we’ve broken up, NEVER booty call, I never double dip, and I defo don’t initiate phone calls. These behaviors are not in my repertoire. Wahoo. Me =1  and The Rules = like 23. Rule #15, don’t rush into Sex or other intimacy. I’m not perfecto, but i am actually pretty good with this one (#yourbodyisyourtemplepeeps), Rule #20, Be Honest but Mysterious. I’m actually more mysterious than you would think (cause i’m loud), but I keep mystery. I don’t like everyone knowing my biz. Rule #25, Practice Practice Practice getting good at the Rules…OK I will sheesh. Rule #34, Love only those who love you. HEY, i’m good at that too! Almost too good. I tend to break things off with people if I know they don’t get me the way they should or won’t be able to be my partner in  crime in the truest sense of the words. Some say i’m too hasty to move on, Whatevs. I think it’s smart to not hang onto ish that’s not true love in the purest sense. I’d rather fly solo and be true in my search. Whoops, Skipped one! Rule #33, Follow the Rules and you’ll live happily ever after. We’ll just see about that E bone and S Bomb. Let’s see if these RULES are actually something worth noting.

Apparently, i’m supposed to have a separate schedule for dates 1-3 and 4-6. 1-3, I’m supposes to be quiet, observant, and sweet (i’m screwed). End the date first, kiss appropriately if warranted, and not act too interested. If he is going to ask me out for Saturday, he has to lock plans down by Wednesday at the latest. No dating more than once in  a week and absolutely NO spur of the moment meet ups. Apparently “i’m busy and in high demand” and am not available at the drop of a hat. This actually not to sound idiotic, it’s really true (how’m I gunna fit dating into ma life??)

Dates 4-6 you can be a little more like “yourself” (phew) and you can go on 2 dates in the same week. He can come up to your apartment or you can go up to his for a drink, but no hanky panky (#ahhhhim30though!). According to the ladies, they should be hooked after date 6. They see you as their prize, they wanna win ya, and cherish you fo life and will follow you around like a puppy dog. And I have to be honest, the more I read, the more I understood where these ladies were coming from. So hence, I move forward with my social experiment. 

Dating using “THE RULES”—-Mission: To find a rad fellow to puddle jump with (on the 8th date of course when I can be myself), eat delicious gourmet truck food with, and someone who will take me home to bake pies with their ma. OK, READY GO! 

Stay tuned freaks! XX. 

For your listening Pleasure, enjoy the above Jam. I.Love.It.

Sorry momma’s been MIA for the last week or so—-i’ve been wrapped up in the ish that payz the billz like fideen hours a day. Yikes. So I saw this dude the other day strollin down the street near Madison SQ park repping the cell phone belt clip sippin’ on a shake shack shake. The only thing right about that picture was the shake. Ok, let’s have a moment of silencio for this mistake. I don’t care if you think that “piece” makes your life easier——it DOESN’T and it’s hideous. Put it in yo pocket please. There is no excuse for some janky piece of weird retractable plastic to be hanging from your belt—-EVER. So let us use this sighting as a segway to one of my favorite NYC dating stories that started with me + a Hula Hoop contest  and it = my first stage 5 clinger who rocked a cell phone belt clip like it was his JOB. Heeerrreee weeee goooo! 

When I first moved to NYC I had a job that paid like a motha but had VERY little responsibility. This led to me going out far too often during the week. Tortilla Flats is an NYC legend——covered in xmas lights with bad mexi food, you’re guaranteed to run into the likes of Proenza Schouler (i’ve defo had a marg filled convo with them there) and have some rando convos with cute fratty mc frattsertons that roll there after work. Well, in addition to these sightings and terrible comida, they also rock a pretty rad Hula Hoop Contest for only the best of the best to participate in——me, duh. Now actually, i’m a very bad hula hooper, but don’t tell this to my 2+ marg self, because she will NEVER believe you. 

So one fateful night I decided to Roll to TF (Tortilla Flats) with some chickadees for bad food and a glimmer in our eyes to hopefully meet hotties. After a couple of Margs, we’re getting pretty sure of ourselves and decide to jump into the competish. I of course SUCK and am out almost immediately but continue to try and convince the judge with a megaphone that “I swear I can do it, i just need a do-over”. Embarasssing. After about 3 tries, I make my way up to get ma refill on—-only to happen upon a little nerd in a collared shirt quietly sipping his frozen marg (I should have KNOWN then! FROZEN?). I decide that this guy needs to be hit on by a hot babe (duh, me) and so I start chatting him up. ASIDE: For the sake of this story, we’ll call him Clipps in honor of the wild plastic Cell belt clip he rocked AT ALL TIMES. Sick.

Clipps and I are chatting each other up and i’m like hey, this dude isn’t that bad. Sure,he’s a HUGE dork and is rocking “the clip” but that’s definitely something I can rid him of…AND QUICK.

Let’s go over the checklist: 

1.) Is he employed? YES. 

2.) Is he a MOC (Man of color——a frequent fave of mine) Yes.

Wellllll, let’s be honest, that’s really all that mattered to me at that time, so i was cool to keep chatting. Clipps and I chatted for another hour or so and he politely asked for my number and asked if he could take me out that Friday and I said, “totes.” Classy 23 yr old meeeee! So we decide to go to a movie and I meet him at the theater and it turns out we are going to see Star Wars——WHAT???? If you know anything about me—-wizardry, space crap, or anything non rom com, just don’t introduce. I bite my lip and in my cutest voice reply—-“oh, wow, great!” and #insideimdying. I hated it. But I did find out during our brief convo before “my hell on earth” that he spoke spanish and was from a tradish Cuban family (#mysecretdreamtoeatplantainsandspeakspanishallday).

We meet up for date 2 about a week later where we went out with my friends (I got in a bday cake batter fight that night…so dang mature of me to have funfetti in ma hair) and he ended up crashing at my house on the couch (YES on the couch!). I woke up hazily to a fully cell phone clipped slight man drinking white grape juice (yes WHITE grape juice) in the doorway of my kitchen in a beater. He must have picked this sick bevy up at the corner store and I didn’t recall. Something just didn’t fit and I almost got reaquainted with my late night eats from the night before at the sight of it. I remembered him being annoyed with my childish cake batter behavior the night before which I was not into, he chose a movie that I obviously hated for our 1st date, and now this beverage and cell phone accessory choice? NOPE. And to boot, we just weren’t compatible. I decided to explain nicely the next day that I wasn’t ready for a relaish yet—-after all, Nach and I just had broken up like 5 months prior? 

Here’s where the stage 5 clinger comes in…about a week later i’m walking home from my bestie’s apt in my cutest work out clothes and had pit stopped to get some of those “2 dozen $10 roses” courtesy of NYC bodegas, and who did I happen upon on my street a la 10pm on a Monday—-CLIPPS! He was “conveniently in the neighborhood”——ummm he lived in Jersey City, not Gramercy Park. BIG difference. HUGE! Not your hood buddy. He did the whole “fancy to run into you here” and I was like Clipps, I live here, what are you doing here?And he very sternly said, “who are the roses from?” and I was like ok single white female, they’re from “nobody” which planted the seed. Long story short, he asked me to coffee on the spot to “talk” and I had my lifesaver aka best friend for life aka soulmate sista call me frantically because she “got locked out” from her apt. So obviously I had to rush to Chelsea to save the damsel in distress and ditch Clipps McGee. After that night I had to put the kabosh on the whole me and white grape juice boy thingy. He was not my biggest fan after I broke the news via phone—-didn’t understand why we couldn’t work out and then cussed in Spanish a bit….I know, it was pretty sad. I felt horrible (and I was also a little nervous that he would sleep on my doorstep if I wasn’t careful), but if my memory serves me correctly, we ended aight…well kinda.  

So often we think, No guys ever like me, nothing ever works out for me, blah blah blah. It’s not because there aren’t eligible dudes out there that want to be in your life and stock white grape juice in your basement, because there ARE. But it’s about the right person, the right kind of fruit juice obsessions, and more importantly the right timing. Clipps and I could have probably dated for a bit and had an OK time, but I knew I was a bit too wild for the likes of him and I figured it was in his best interest to be set free earlier than later to prey on some other hula hoopin mavens that didn’t get in cake fights or buy copious amounts of roses for themselves (#whodoesthat?). So here’s a little shout out to Clipps Mc Ghee. I hope he found the lady of his grape juice dreams :)