Note to self: stop forgetting previous notes to self
So for some reason I thought it was a reasonable plan to attend a party at a photo studio in Williamsburg on Saturday night. Went to Jess’ for a little tailgating with a few ladies, part of which entailed watching, after the Chris Rock special, Sex and the City. (I enjoy this show, just do not enjoy all the Midtown Barbies who emulate it.) So in it, Miranda’s law career intimidated guys so she pretended she was a stewardess and it totally worked with someone. So we thought, what if we do that tonight? As the Playgirls, we had potentially intimidating occupations. We decided on our fakey personas: I would be a secretary. Or should I say, SEXretary. Actually I did say that, more than once.
At the party I said hi to the hottest guy there who seemed to inexplicably be alone. (That's actually him in the Abercrombie-style photo above.) Dervla I introduced ourselves as our fakey personas. He seemed so nice that I immediately felt bad and retracted everything. The guy didn't seem to mind, and in fact seemed quite interested in everything I had to say, the entire night. I did regard this with some suspicion; I mean, you really do not just find the hottest guy in the party (6'4", publishes his own magazine, lives in the east village) as a single commodity. No matter how much of a dick he is. But this guy didn't seem like a dick and even seemed a bit bashful.
Was this the introduction to the opposite sketches? He asked what I was doing the next day, and put my number in his phone, and makeout occurred, and he walked me to my subway and carried my bag on the way there. So Sunday I got onto the old myspaceroo, and looked him up. Guess who is "In a Relationship"? If you guessed me, you are wrong.
I really wasn't that surprised. It was something like finding a bag with a dollar sign on it (an icon which Gene Simmons has actually trademarked) in the middle of the sidewalk, then being suspicious but still hopeful when there was money inside it, then finding out it’s counterfeit and knowing you really should have known all along but still being annoyed that the entire thing had happened in the first place.
My friend Karin says I should message him saying, "Wow, you think we're in a relationship already? Things are going so fast."
One of my notes to self I'd violated: Avoid most guys who are outright handsome, but especially avoid guys who are handsome enough to be models. Here's a long-established one: Drunken makeout is apparently not step one to getting an awesome boyfriend. Here's a new one: If they don't seem that bright, and are a snowboarder, they probably aren't that bright. And are also a snowboarder.
And where did this all happen, folks? WILLIAMSJERK! Note to self: just stop going there.