Single Moms

So, I wanted to give you all a recap of my trip to New York city, but the truth is, it was half work, and half Thanksgiving vacation, and I am still trying to piece together what happened in that whirlwind of a trip! I’ll dish more on the shenanigans later, I promise!  But here I will tell you about a little flashback I had while having drinks on this trip at the W Hotel, at Union Square. 

I love W Hotels, don’t you?  So, warm, sleek and inviting.  Only the pretty people go the W.  I guess I am lucky they let ME in! ha!  You know, on a side note, the W Hotel goes down in my own personal history book as THE major influence on current day home fashion.  For me, it was the W that blazed the trail in the simple and refined look of today.  The dark woods, ambient lighting, lounge style, simple sofas and tables.  And the guest rooms as well – with their over-stuffed, high-lifted feather beds.  Those things looked like giant pillows of comfy clouds just waiting to be climbed into and snuggled.  But I digress.

Anyhow, on this most recent trip (when I had my flashback), my friend G-love and I were sitting in the lounge after watching my nephews band “Ruffian Arms” play at a place on the lower east side called Arlene’s Grocery.  I mentioned it to an old friend of mine (an ex), who is/was a band and music artist manager and use to be an exec at several top record labels, and upon hearing that my nephew’s band was playing there (I suppose he thought my nephew might be playing the bar mitzvah of the singer’s cousin’s son, or something), he said in a somewhat surprised tone, “Oh! That’s a GREAT venue!”  So, needless to say I was a proud aunt.  And let me just say, it was AWESOME!  The band takes risks – all the guys dress in stripper red platform, high-heeled lace-up boots, and my nephew wore a black Tina Turner style wig, and some other funky stuff (a carpenter apron with red paint splashed on it, and not much else, I suppose), and the lead singer wore a black sequined sort of one piece swim suit, a big bouffant red wig and a tiara.  But they were SUCH a FUN and talented band.  It reminded me of a cross between the B-52’s and the Talking Heads – then throw some punk in there.

Anyhow, we watched the show, had a couple beers with my nephew, then headed up town to the W.  When we walked in I was transported to another time and day in NYC, when I was at the Blue Fin bar in the W Hotel Times Square.  At that time, I was sitting there having drinks with a friend, minding my own business.  I didn’t think I was looking all that “hot” that evening.  I wore my hair curly, because I was running late, and in order to keep warm, I was fairly bundled up with my jeans tucked into my boots.  All of the sudden a couple of guys stopped by our little corner, the cute one, sitting himself right next to me.  I’ll call him Slick (think ‘Greasy’ – you’ll see why in a moment).

He was quite charming, ole Slick.  And REALLY cute.  We actually had quite a lot in common.  So, we exchanged phone numbers, because one of his “crew” wanted to head out to the next place on their list. 

So, the rest of my trip, Slick and I text-messaged each other, and tried to arrange another time to have drinks together.  He really wanted to see me.  I thought it seemed odd that someone would put so much effort into seeing someone from out of state.  After all, it was New York City.  It’s not like there was a shortage of beautiful women to hit on.  Perhaps it was the challenge of getting a date with someone on a limited schedule.  I dunno.  But it was interesting.

Finally the day came when Slick and I could meet.  He wanted me to come to his place in the West Village for a drink, then go out for app’s and wine nearby.  I texted him that I was uncomfortable doing that – that he might be a serial killer or something, and it just wasn’t something I would do.  He texted me back “nope.  i went to “fill in the blank” Italian market and bought the ingredients to make my famous crustinis.  It won’t keep.  Just give my address and phone number to all your friends.  If they don’t hear from you by 9pm, they can call the police.”  So, guess what?  I went.  Hey I like it when a guy takes control and bosses me around.  HA! 

Slick had a pad that was only fitting for someone like him.  It was REAL slick.  It was three levels, wood floors, was impeccably decorated, with artwork and artifacts, and it had a FULL back yard, with brick planters that wove through the yard, and an ivy covered wood fence with permanent imbedded twinkle lights.  VERY cool.

We had a bottle of wine, and his crustinis – which come to think of it, were just “okay” – they were actually soggy.  All through the night, as we chatted, and he gave me a tour of his place, explaining the artwork, etc. I felt like Slick was just too close.  He was very touchy and feely, which is normally a GREAT thing for me, but this just felt rushed.  We’d walk into a room, and he would try to grab my hand (which I would ignore, and swing my arm away, nonchalantly).  We’d be standing there, while he explained a painting, and he’d touch his hand to the underside of my ass – you know what I mean – right above the top of the thigh (and I would move ever so slightly).  First of all, that’s where all my cellulite is.  Why would I want ANYONE to focus on that area – let alone touch it affectionately – and WHY on earth would I allow some complete stranger to grope there. Ewww.

So, I said to him a couple of times, trying to be nice, and flirty “You are a very familiar person, aren’t you?” To which he would say things like “I think affection is a good thing, don’t you?” Don’t get me wrong.  He was never threatening to say the least.  And he was not that big.  I was a bit taller than him, so I felt very confident I could kick his ass if I needed to.  Ha ha!  It just never even came close to coming up, so it was not a big deal.  I always felt in control, which turned out to be a GOOD thing.

Anyhow – I’ll wrap this up.  At one point Slick started to move into his living room with another bottle of wine, when I strongly suggested, in a sweet, flirty voice, that we go for appetizers and cocktails like we’d planned. So we did.  We walked to one of his favorite places. I couldn’t tell you where or what it was.

We sat at the bar, ordered some more wine and an appetizer, and started to chat.  I don’t really remember much about what we spoke about, but I did learn he was about seven years younger than me.  Ick.  Younger men are just so that – young. I like a man’s man.  I like someone who’s been around the block, knows what he likes, what he’s doing, or at least knows how to put up a good front.  There is nothing sexier to me than someone older than me. It makes me feel protected or taken care of.  Imagine that.  Ms. Cheevious – the wild, adventurous voyeur and fluttering social butterfly wanting to feel protected.  Go figure.  People are complex creatures.  But I digress again. 

Finally Slick said something that was the beginning of the end.  I didn’t know it at the time, but it was.  I think I was asking him about how curious his attraction was to me, and how much effort he was putting into getting together with me, when I was about to leave town.  He said “I just think we could do a lot of fun things together.”  So, I’m thinking, travel, events, movie premieres, what-have-you, but I ask, “Like what kind of fun things.”  Then he said it, and I have to actually CENSOR this, “Well.  (pause) How do you like your BLEEP licked?”

So.

There it was.

The bubble burst.

The guillotine dropped.

My JAW dropped.

I looked at him and said in my very angry and exceptionally LIVID voice (my son’s know this voice – and a few unfortunate employees, and even some friends, sadly), “I CANNOT. BELIEVE. YOU JUST SAID THAT.”  (pause)  “This date is now OVER.”

With that I got up, and walked out.  He said, “Okay.  I can respect that,” as he followed me to hail a cab.  Then of course, knowing that the universe will always return to you what you put out there, I said, “Listen.  I’m a familiar person.  But that is WAY too familiar, and extremely, disgustingly rude.”  and I added, “It’s who you are.  I get it.  But it is NOT me.  Good night.”  And I got in my cab and rode away. 

Later that week he had the gall to text me and say “It was nice meeting you. Keep in touch.”  To which I had no reply.

As G-love and I sat sipping our martinis last week at the W Hotel in Union Square, I chuckled a little inside.  ‘Only in New York,’ I thought.  Then I corrected myself.  ‘No.  Only in my life!’ 

So what was the point of that story?  Well, aside from SHOCK and AWE (ha ha) I guess I am glad for being a strong person, and for the fact the my own self respect and dignity trumped anything that guy had to offer.  I was not wowed by some wealthy guy in New York.  I am quite happy to stay on my own if faced with someone like that as an option.  But believe it or not, I actually know women who will date someone like that even though all the signs are there that he has no ability to treat her as she deserves. Sad.  But you are not like that!  No, you read my posts every week and get empowered to live life on your terms!  Right?  Tell me I’m right, would you?  Ha ha!

With that I will leave you my friends!  As the holidays approach, I hope you have all your priorities in order.  Respect yourself, because if YOU don’t, no one else will.  Be good to your loved ones, the elderly and small children (but not tweens or teens – just ignore them – trust me – they deserve it now and then – ha ha – JUST KIDDING).  It’s the holidays!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious