Sunday, January 25, 2009

Its a sign

I have yet to speak with the Italian. I went out of town the weekend after I met him and then this weekend I didn't drunkenly text him (NOTE: he has not called me either. I'm blaming that on the fact that he is foreign and embarrassed by his lack of strong English skills. When I studied abroad I was always scared to call guys on the phone and speak Spanish because half of the time I didn't know what they were saying and then they clearly had no idea what I was saying. I digress). So...I have yet to speak with the Italian.

However, on a completely different note, the universe has been sending me many signs recently. One, I was walking down Avenue B three days ago and I noticed that the bar where I got drinks with the Welshman has now closed. Coincidence? I think not. Obviously our relationship was not meant to be if our first date bar cannot even sustain itself.

Two, my flight back to New York last weekend was delayed, canceled, delayed, etc... I had plenty of time to get to stare at the people on my flight (you know, do a once over of if the plane went down LOST-style who would be your Jack and Sawyer? Call me creepy, but I will be prepared). There was one family in which the dad looked literally exactly like my ex-boyfriend. And when I say exactly, I mean down to the glasses, long sleeve shirt with a t-shirt over it, Gap jeans, and ugly Merrells. I could not stop staring. Finally, I think I creeped the mom out because she thought I was staring at their two kids so I made myself switch chairs.

What was the universe trying to tell me, I wondered? This could have been your future life? You were right, Merrells really are horribly ugly shoes for guys? Or, and what I believe to be the correct answer, leave him alone so he can make a life like this on his own. Dammit, universe, I know you're right. Now I have to scratch him off my emergency "contact" list for good.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Positives of extra-curricular activities

So I signed up for these two free writing classes - part of my whole 'Get out there and do things!' in 2009. Anyway, the first one was last night. Eve* came with me and luckily it wasn't too far from my apartment because it was seriously about 9 degrees outside. The class was actually really interesting and it was only an hour long so I had plenty of time to go home and watch Law and Order: SVU with Elaine* (priorities, people). As we are walking out I notice this super cute guy with brown hair wearing an olive green pea coat. Eve and I continued up the 30 some flights of stairs to get out of the basement of the Chinatown Y (which, by the way, smells like chlorine and sweat in case you ever go there) and the mysterious guy walked out heading the same direction on Bowery as we were. Putting all my awkwardness aside, I struck up a conversation with him and it turned he had recently moved to New York from Rome, was an aspiring screenwriter but probably going to be bar tending for a while, and was moving into a place in SoHo with some other hot sounding friends. I was so baffled by how cute he was and how sexy his accent was, when he asked me for directions to the F I gave him completely wrong directions and pointed him straight toward the 6. Then I got flustered and said, um, Ok, sorry, its actually that way, good luck, bye! And ran away. Not even an attempt to give or get a number.

Getting home last night I was so mad at myself: the first cute guy you have seen in awhile and you F it up! Well done. Eve* suggested I call the writing class company back and see if they would give me his number; Andi* said should just show up to the screenwriting class the next night. I decided to ponder it at work the next day. But then today I kinda forgot, something happened, I think it involved a box of Godiva chocolates and I got distracted...

Anyway, my other class was tonight. I rode the elevator up to the 14th floor and when the doors opened it was like the whole "Touched by an Angel" - bright lights, "ahhhhh" situation: there he was, wearing his green pea coat, standing right outside the elevator. He smiled and waved hello. Once I took off my hat with 5 different holes in it, I was totally cool, calm and collected. We chatted while we waited for our respective classes to start (me, Creative Writing; him, Screenwriting). It was a little awkward because it was so so quiet and I knew everyone around us could tell we didn't really know each other and we were having a some what flirty, first conversation. Whatever. When it was time for our classes to start we both did an awkward, well, uh, so, and then he introduced himself properly and got my number! He also then called me so I have his number -- big mistake if he doesn't want drunk texts...

Moral of the story: maybe cute guys CAN emerge from the Deadzone...even without stalking them. But not often...

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Love Potion

Apparently the song "Love Potion #9" was not a silly diddy, but simply a scientific hypothesis a few decades ahead of its time. Some scientists have now introduced an actual theory of love, based on a hormone oxytocin - more or less, "the love hormone." Oxytocin produces many of the effects similar to nicotine and cocaine, or what I feel as that happy, yet obsessive, nervous feeling in your stomach when you can't stop thinking about someone you like. Apparently there is a similar hormone released after sex and that gives you the urge to "nest" (I am speculating this is what makes us a little crazy the day after, even if we're really not that interested in a guy).

The good news is with the discovery of the power of the "love hormone" oxytocin, an anti-love drug may be in the works! Want to get over that ex for good? This could be your ticket. Its like "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," but with much less serious side effects.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Its a New Year!

Happy 2009! This is going to be a GREAT year. My apologies for being a bit distant for awhile. It is because I have been very busy and important - I have been too wrapped up in my blisteringly hot social life and getting called away last minute for very important events such as the Golden Globes last night (OMG did anyone else think Drew Barrymore looked like a total tranny???).

I digress. In actuality I have been a little MIA because, well, I have been boring myself these days. Although 2009 has been a wonderful year so far for friendship, career, and all that jazz, ( oh yeah, and my birthday on January 7th! yay!) it has been a little slooooooow in the romance department. More than slow, more like my ability to do long division: non-existent. This may explain all the weird dreams I have been having. Elaine* bought a "Dream Dictionary" so I have been looking up the significance of all my dreams. Broken teeth, floods, birdhouses, cookie cake (actually that was not in the dictionary but I pretty much defined that for myself by the fact I ate an entire cookie cake on my birthday). For some reason Elaine and I have yet to determine why the significance of dreaming about sex is not in the dictionary. Definitely a pity because I really needed to look that one up. I tried to google "significance of sex dreams" at work and all the websites were blocked by IT. Dammit. Not only am I having unexplained, sexually frustrated dreams, but now I am going to get in trouble for looking up porn at work.

I explained my dry spell to a friend a few years older at work. She laughed and said it could be worse: apparently her mother told her she should adopt a child since it looked like she wasn't getting married. This same friend said she might have a cute fireman she could set me up with. Nice, I like a man in uniform.

Regardless, I am now back in the game. Something has to happen soon because I have to be honest I have given serious thought to making an "emergency" call to my ex. Its wrong, I know, I know. Looks like I will need to put in a 911 to a fireman instead!