Addendum--A Woman's Right to Write

Hello Friends, Lovers, Neighbors, and Other Strangers,

I'm back. It's been awhile since I've posted a blog entry or even pulled up the function to create a new one. It's been over 13 months to be exact so I have to admit that this seems oddly surreal. Where we last left off I was skipping off on a Sunday afternoon to go meet the Brit to begin what would be the next long chapter in my New York experience completely off the page. You may ask then why am I suddenly back on the page. Well, there are a few reasons, but first I suppose I should give you a brief catch-up session. When I wrote my last blog entry, I was crazy about the Brit. I really had genuine faith that I had met the guy that would fulfill me on all levels. I didn't feel like I had to keep dating or writing about it any longer. I was happy on that Sunday afternoon, and I wish I could report that the whole scenario had been my happy ever after, but instead it turned out to be a life lesson, a growing pain and experience all at once, but above all a chapter that I neither regret nor hold as the be all end all in my life or this blog. Let me give you a quick little rundown.

So essentially we met up, we reconnected, it felt like magic, and we proceeded to spend an incredible summer together. We did everything two people on the path to togetherness do. We continued to explore the City, we spent Sundays in bed together, we met on our lunch breaks to steal little moments of our day away just for each other, and essentially we fell in love. At least, I know that he did because on July 4th while we were vacationing in Nicaragua, he blurted out those words--I love you. It was powerful and unexpected, and I don't really know if I was truly, fully in love with him just yet, but I said it back anyway. And speaking of Nicaragua, that's the other thing we did together. We traveled together. We went there, Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador. It was amazing because he was actually an excellent travel partner, and this truly delighted and impressed me because as you may know I am absolutely addicted to travel and can't really see myself being with someone who doesn't share that passion as well. It's even better yet if a guy is able to rough it and travel bare bones and really immerse himself into the cultural experience of it all. Anywho, the other thing that we also did throughout the course of the summer was that we fought. We fought really early on, and I think within a couple of months I found myself realizing that this just did not feel like a perfect fit for me. The Brit was great in so many ways. He was open to adventure, he had a bit of that Bohemian spirit that I dig so much, he was a good lover, and he could be entirely sweet sometimes. However, despite all of the positives, for some reason I just did not feel that we clicked on an interpersonal level. We didn't laugh together a lot. So many times I would tell a joke, and he would just give me a blank stare that I now refer to as "the death stare." I am a giant goofball, and he rarely ever laughed at anything. Also, he would get so offended if I playfully teased him. It's like he didn't realize that when I like someone I like to crack on them. Instead he would get upset. Yeah, completely incompatible as you can see. By the end of summer I just started to feel overwhelmingly that we were doing all these fun things, but the true connection you needed to share with someone in order to make the experiences meaningful in the moment rather than just reflectively in pictures was not there.

However, the biggest deficit in our relationship was our inability to communicate. I realized very early on that the Brit was not the kind of guy who could just agree to disagree. If I had a difference of opinion, he always became defensive and felt like I was saying he was a terrible person when in actuality I was just quite simply having an opinion. The worst was when he would get mad. He would completely shut down, and the world would go on a pause until he was over it. This might be 20 minutes, 2 hours, or 2 days. One could never tell, and over time these communication break-downs really wore on my psyche. We ended up calling it a day in September, and honestly that's where his little chapter should have ended. Instead, we did what a lot of couples do. We fell into a yo-yo cycle of being together but not being together. There was still a lot of love and care between us. I told him he was my best friend, but really I don't think that he ever was because I never felt like he really understood me or appreciated my quirks.

We continued to explore the City, spend Sundays in bed together, and travel to Niagara Falls, Atlantic City, Boston, Connecticut, and DC throughout the fall and winter. There were definitely flashes of merit. It was definitely not all bad...but it definitely was not all good. The fighting continued until I started to forget what I was so drawn to or why I wanted to keep dating this guy. I guess that is what sometimes happens when you're involved in something that you're not quite sure is right for you or not. You keep hanging in thinking it might get better and thinking about the investment and the closeness you have already created, and you start to get sad about the person possibly not being in your life anymore.

Things really hit a wall near the beginning of the year. The Brit had landed a new job and would be relocating to DC. This seemed like the turning point. I was either going to stay on board and ride this out, or I was going to get off of the bi-polar roller coaster ride that we had become. I remember the last trip we ever took together to DC in February. It was just awful. We were fighting the whole weekend, and I began to get really sad because traveling had always been the one thing we shared. We never seemed to be able to make it work in the day to day interactions of just being with one another, but we truly excelled at getting away from it all. I think when I put two and two together on that I started to realize that we were only successful in a fantasy world. We did not have the interpersonal connection or the communication necessary to survive longterm. That's why the weekend in DC was especially devastating. The apect of fun weekends away together that we had always shared was now gone, and I knew that things needed to end.

That's why on Valentine's Day they did. I remember I arrived home the night before Valentine's Day to a heart shaped box of chocolates sitting in front of the door. If things had been good between us, I would have loved this and thought this such a sweet gesture. However, I think reading one's gut is always a useful skill. My gut reaction to seeing the box of chocolates was anguish and sadness. This little red box came to symbolize me compromising myself in this interaction. I know it sounds melodramatic, but I started to see a whole big picture event inside my head where I realized if I didn't summon my courage up to end things, every Valentine's Day afterwards I would walk into Duane Reade and see that aisle full of red, heart shaped boxes of chocolates and feel like they were the reason I had continued to stay in this interaction that was so devastatingly obviously wrong for me at this point. I could just imagine myself trashing the aisle in torment, and so the sensible part of me gathered myself together and decided to call it a day with the Brit the next night over a sushi dinner in Midtown. He was sad but accepting. As I rode the subway home, I felt empty. I should have felt free, but instead I felt heartbroken. Even though I was the one who ultimately ended it, it was proof to me that the Brit had gotten to me. Despite all of the imperfections of us as a unit, I had fallen in love with him, and he had become an integral part of my life for the past year. Nonetheless I felt in my heart I had made the right choice.

When I arrived home, the Brit texted me that we should go away for the following weekend which was a three day holiday. I was a bit taken aback because we had just spent two hours discussing how this was not right. Don't think I didn't contemplate it because I really did, but ultimately I had a desperate desire to move on. I said no, and that was that. He removed himself from my phone, and I felt completely alone. That is the worst moment--when a relationship officially ends and you realize that the space that used to house everything you shared, all the intimacy, love, passion, and care is now just a vacant space that can no longer be traversed.

Honestly we tried to be friends immediately after, but there's a reason they say you should not try to be friends right after. I think doing that kills the chance to be friends in the future so take my advice that if you break up with someone, and you'd like to have them in your life later on give it at least a few months. We did not do this, and things just went from bad to worse. I found out he started dating someone and was taking them on a weekend trip away a couple of weeks later at the end of February. I really didn't have any right to be jealous especially since I was the one who had told him I didn't see a future for us. Nonetheless, this was devastating to me. I know that for some people the only way to get over someone is to become completely immersed with someone else. I'm not passing any judgments here, but I am completely the opposite. I definitely need a period of grieving and separation. I was dumbfounded as to how he could have formed this connection with someone new so quickly, and then I found out it hadn't been so sudden at all. He had actually met this girl in November. I suddenly had that feeling of "was anything between us real?" I know we had our problems, but the entire last three months I had been continuing to invest and trying to see if there was a way for it to work, and I only did this because he appeared to be doing the same. He continued to ask me to be a part of his life in DC, to come with him to visit his family in England. Perhaps people say things in desperate moments in hoping to save something, but it seems unfair when the entire last three months he was creating a back-up plan for himself.

Well, whatever the matter. It was out of my hands so I moved on. We stopped speaking, and then in April the most unexpected turn of events happened. I got a random text from my friend who told me she ran into the Brit at the engagement party of a mutual friend. I asked why he was there, and it turns out the new girl he is dating is co-workers with the engaged friend. I was flabbergasted. Are you serious? Of all the women in New York City, he's dating someone who's only two degrees of separation away from me?? I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone or more specifically my hometown. I left my small hometown in Texas to avoid circular situations like this, but nonetheless it was happening right here in this giant metropolis. New York City can feel so tiny sometimes. Further, I thought the Brit had moved to DC in April. Why was he still lingering about on the outskirts? It turns out he's now in a full fledged long distance relationship with this chick. I had an A-HA moment. He found someone to do it. I was so opposed to the long distance thing just because I felt that those rarely ever work, but when they do it's a situation that has an endpoint in sight that is built on mutual honesty, trust, and communication. Obviously we did not have the makings to be successful in that. We could barely make it work with him living in Brooklyn. But I found myself hoping that he had found someone that was better suited to him in all regards and that he was happy.

What really creeped me out though was how insanely close to my inner world this outside girl was. You know how when you discover some information after the fact, you find yourself replaying all those moments from the past in your mind, and you start to put two and two together. Once I did that, I knew exactly the night in November he had met her at a bar. I knew because after that night everything changed and we fought more and I could sense that he was less invested. Then I started to wonder if when he gave me my Christmas present with the note attached if he had given her a similar note as well. It turns out me and this girl were even at the same New Year's Eve party by way of the co-worker that we both know. I started to wonder if when he was texting a message to me on New Year's Eve saying "I love you" if he was doing the same for her. And I wondered if when he left that heart shaped box on my doorstep the night before Valentine's if he gave her the same heart shaped box only in person because he was actually spending the night with her. It's thoughts like this that really make you feel gross. And in the end I started to wonder what she had that I didn't. Why was she the one that was now in this loving and committed long distance relationship with the Brit when I had struggled for months to make it work on any functional level. The conclusion I came to is that I don't think it had anything to do with me. The base bottom line is probably that she is someone who is much more compatible with him, who can handle his mood swings or is somehow able to not bring it out of him, and someone who is entirely happy to be with him. That was never me, and because of that when I heard about my friend's run-in with him I was happy to hear that he was doing well, and I had nothing but good thoughts about him. My friend mentioned that he asked about me and had nothing but good things to say about me as well. I had hope that we might actually be friends someday.

Then...it happened. Sorry for the long pre-story, but I thought it was important for you to hear about the complexity surrounding this interaction so that you can be just as appalled as I was by what unfolded. A couple of days after the Brit ran into my friend, he emails me with a message entitled, "Favour." Basically he goes onto explain that after the run-in with my friend, his girlfriend asked how he and I met, and he ended up telling her about this here little blog. She pulled up the blog and read it, and she was upset, and he wanted to know if I would take my blog offline. What???? Is he for serious???? That was my gut reaction to that. I didn't respond immediately as I really needed to think on this. I hadn't heard from the Brit in months, and now he gets in touch to ask me to do a favor for him because what he said made his new girlfriend upset? I may not be the brightest bulb, but this just did not make any sense to me. A few hours later, he calls and leaves a message. Obviously it's pretty important for him to make sure this blog comes down. I'm thinking, "What's the rush? It's been online for over a year." When we finally talk, the Brit is cold and abrasive. I ask him if I can have a few days to think about his request because let's face it. I so clearly do not want to take my blog down. I don't even want to entertain the idea because this is not something I had an inclination to do on my own. He becomes hostile and tells me that if I don't take the blog down he's going to "make things very difficult for me." Ok, this clearly sounds like a threat. The only reason I'm not that scared is because he's British. If he were in the mafia or something I might be a bit alarmed, but he's just some guy from England. I ask him what this means, and I can sense that he has realized what this sounded like. He sort of retracts and says, "I just mean that if I see you in a social situation I'll be very cold to you." Umm...the last time I checked we're not even talking, and further this interaction is pretty straight up ice cold so what exactly is at stake here? I honestly had that sinking feeling of once having shared so much with someone now feeling like I never really knew him at all. Was it possible that I had been so in love with someone who would ask this of me?

In any event, I thought about it. Much to my chagrin I took the blog down. I know you're asking "Why?????" Or maybe you're not, but I'll tell you. In that moment, it came down to one question. What kind of interaction did I want to have with the Brit in the future? Did I see us being friends? Did I want him to be a part of my life? At the time, the answer was yes to both of those. I still thought fondly of him (yes, surprisingly even after that mildly explosive interaction). My feeling is that when you break up with someone you don't hold onto all the hurt and regret that was there at the end. Instead you hold onto the love you shared and the meaning that the person brought to your life. I met the Brit for a reason. I was with him trying to make it work with him for the better part of a year for a reason. There was obviously some energy between us, and despite anything that has happened since, I still do not believe him to be a bad person. I think he's quite a good person. He just has some issues when he does not get what he wants. Anyway, that was my thinking, and I decided to take the blog down at least while I fully processed if his request was valid or not.

These were the primary things that came up for me and what made me so incredibly annoyed with his request. First of all, the whole time we were dating he was always the type of person who abided by a "less is more" rule when it came to talking about past relationships. He said we didn't need the explicit detail. Why then did he feel the need to tell his new girlfriend that I even did this blog and also the exact name of it? Of course, she's gonna go read it. It's a woman's instinct. I know that I would have pulled it up within five minutes of hearing about it. She asked how we met. Couldn't he have just said on match.com because that is the long and short of it as far as I'm concerned. His argument is that this blog is out there, and even if it doesn't work out with this girl it's always gonna be there for him to have to explain, and he doesn't want to be a part of it. Well, my feeling about that is to let this be a learning lesson. He let too much info slip this time so be more careful in the future. Also, things are stable with this new girl now so hopefully this is not an issue. What really peeves me is that I think the Brit wants to have this great story of being in the blog because let's face it, it is kind of an interesting story, but then to not have to be accountable by having any other girls go read about it for themselves if it's hidden.

The other thing I never understood was why this girl was even upset. First of all, none of us are 15 years old here. We all have a history. I wasn't the Brit's first girlfriend, and clearly I'm not the last so I don't think she should be upset by anything we shared that took place a year ago. That's not important. What matters is that he's with her now giving her his time, attention, love, care, passion, and all of that. That's all that should matter. I'm clearly not a threat. We're not on speaking terms, and clearly she doesn't have anything I any longer want. Everyone has a past. As my good friend once said, "The past is not what's important. It's that it doesn't affect your present or your future." But I've always been a big believer in appreciating one's history, in looking back fondly on the things you gained and learned from your love affair with someone. In retrospect, I don't know if the girl was more upset about my blog and the history we had shared or about finding out there was overlap between me and her. I seriously doubt she knew I was on the scene when he met her in November, and I can imagine that finding that out took something away from her first three months with him just as me finding out about her took something away from my last three months with him. All I can say is, that's life. People make choices, and interactions sometimes become less and sometimes become more than what you originally intended.

That being said, after 10 and a half weeks of sitting silently and letting my blog lie dormant, I've realized that I want to put my blog back online. I want to preface my reasons with a little explanation. First off, I am incredibly satisfied with the fact that I abided by the Brit's wish because it gave time to cool down between him and his new girlfriend. I assume they've worked through whatever issues this caused, and I truly hope they've moved onto focusing on more important issues like nurturing their relationship and realizing that this blog has no bearing on it one way or the other. I'm also happy I waited to write this addendum because if I had done it directly in the aftermath, I would have been extremely angry, and this post would have been A LOT more mean spirited. I probably would have talked in even greater detail about the negative things I went through with the Brit with very specific examples, but I now realize that's neither here nor there. The bottom line is that there's a lot that I could say about the Brit, about us, about why we are no longer in each other's lives, but I won't because my intent in posting this blog is not to embarrass him or to cause any strain on his current relationship. In all honesty from the bottom of my open heart, I wish him all good things and for happiness in a loving relationship as that is what he truly always wanted. However, the reason I decided to put my blog back online was for three primary reasons. If I did not put it back up it would mean one of three things:

1. It would mean I regretted doing the blog, and I don't. Sure, going on 50 First Dates in NYC was maybe not the most conventional approach, and maybe some of my motivations could be called into question. I know the Brit never really got it, and the whole thing was always a constant source of tension even months after the fact. Perhaps that's why we never would have truly worked. This blog was equal parts art project, looking for love, and self exploration. I feel that I succeeded in all three areas because I finished the blog on my own terms, I came away with love as I truly was happy with the Brit in that moment, and I definitely learned so much about life and people and just dating and how simultaneously fun and draining it can sometimes be in NYC. I've had so many women tell me that they enjoyed reading about my adventures and that they gained more confidence from seeing me have a desire to be myself at any cost amidst the many men in this fine city. I cannot say I regret this blog being a result of my research and findings.

2. It would mean that I regretted dating the Brit, and I don't. Look, the long and short of it is that we were two people who had not been in love with anyone in a while who found each other and fell for each other and eventually realized that we were not right for each other. I learned so much from dating him, and I had fun. I think the biggest learning I got out of it is that I'm not sure that I am particularly relationship oriented at the moment, or perhaps I just hadn't met the right one in him. I know that I've heard that when you meet the right one, it changes your perspective, and you stop thinking so independently. Instead you start considering the other person, and you want to create something with them in mind at all times. I don't know if I ever truly felt that with the Brit. I think I wanted to, and it's hard to say if it's circumstantial or if it was him not being right for me, but I never felt free with him. I felt stifled, and I didn't feel like he liked me for me. I always felt extremely physically attractive because that is what he would comment on the most, and I'll always be grateful for the confidence he gave me in that area, but I never felt funny or interesting or smart around him, and those are really the things I would like to be valued for over physical beauty if I had to choose. Nonetheless, the Brit did give me something. He gave me an awareness of myself, the knowledge that I don't want to be with someone if I can't be myself, and he taught me how to trust myself which is why I'm putting my blog back up.

3. Finally, it would mean that I thought it was okay for him to ask me to hide my writing, and I don't. I know this is super cheesy, but we've established that I have no qualms about being that. With the approach of the 4th of July on Monday, it's gotten me to thinking about all that this entails. When the Brit first made his request, I was probaby on a personal level a little bit hurt and offended that he was asking this favor in order to make his new girlfriend feel better, but on a deeper and much more powerful level I was offended that he would ask me to mute my creative voice as an artist, a woman, and as an American. That's right. What this all boils down to is Freedom of Speech. It's right there in the first ammendment. I mean, I didn't go to law school or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's listed right there in the first one they wrote down for reasons like this. There are always going to be people saying, writing, producing, endorsing things we do not agree with. That is the fact of the matter in that there are so many people and opinions floating around this great big world. I'm happy to live in a time and place that allows me to just be me, and at this present moment I'm happy to not be dating someone who does not allow me to do so.

In a nutshell, what I shared with the Brit was real and magic. It was calm, and it was savage. It was all the things that great love stories are supposed to be. It was filled with warmth, safety, and home in its very best moments and filled with fire, resentment, and confusion in all the others. It had all the makings of a great love affair, the kind that usually do not last forever. But I'm happy to take that moment and put it into a little box, or blog, in time. That's the thing of it. This blog is so symbolic of a specific moment in my life. To me it makes me remember when I was new to New York City. A person will only ever be new to this place once, and I was happy to be able to capture all the excitement and unexpected vibrancy that peeked around every corner in almost every space of every day. I still have a great thirst for NYC, but I feel like this is home now. I feel more like NYC and I are seasoned lovers rather than just acquainted daters. I was really sad for a time after things ended with the Brit, and I had feared that the Honeymoon Phase with NYC was over, but I feel that it's somehow re-emerged. I feel really happy and alive and awakened here once more. I'm dating, I'm exploring, and most importantly I have a great circle of friends who I feel I can rely on when there's not really a special guy on the radar screen. They know who they are, and they are the ones who will always be there to hear a funny story about a really bad date, to ooh and aah over a really good date, to support me when weird requests from ex-boyfriends come in, and to get overzealously excited when prospects for new boyfriends arise.

In the end, I sincerely hope the Brit does not get in touch with me and ask me to take my blog down again. If he does, that means he's still googling my blog on a regular basis, and to that I would say, "Dude, stop googling my blog, and it'll be like it's not even there." Life is too short to worry about the things you can't control so let it go. This blog was never about him. It was about me and my exploration of dating in NYC. He just happened to become a part of it. It was never a collaborative effort. I have heard that when someone dies, the final stage in the grieving process is to write a letter to the person. I don't hope the Brit dies or anything, and I wouldn't say this post is specifically to him, but I think it was therapeutic to tell the story as I saw it. He would probably have a different version, but for what it's worth, I think this is more neutral than it would have been three months ago. Also, I thought about my original compliance of taking down the blog in that I envisioned being friends with the Brit in the future. I kind of know that by putting my blog back up and writing this addendum, it probably means I will never see or speak to him again. I have to be okay with that at this point. A friend of mine once gave me some good advice. "You can't take everyone with you." As nice as it would be, sometimes certain people are better left as chapters in your past. If I could only say one more thing to the Brit it would be, thank you for all that we shared and all that you gave to me. I hope you have found or eventually do find someone who appreciates you just for you. You were not just part of a project. And with that I think I'm finally out of words for him and for this post. Finally, finally I am free...let it ring! Happy Independence Day!!

And in the End...i.e. Dunzo!!

I moved to NYC nine months ago today. It was a Sunday just like this one except much hotter, but I remember my friends Julia and Virginia driving me from LaGuardia to my new home in Manhattan as if it were yesterday. I was filled with such an inner excitement and anticipation and desire to really explore New York top to bottom, to experience life, to meet new and interesting people, and to rediscover myself while living in this brave new setting. Well, nine months down the road, have I accomplished all of that? I would say, yes, but obviously not completely because I feel these, at the time, unnamed goals I set for myself are things that start to surface but will inevitably keep shifting and changing and evolving as I continue to live here and grow more comfortable here but hopefully never become complacent. I will continue to shift and change and evolve. Afterall, isn't that the whole point of life? But I suppose the whole point of this blog was to ultimately discover what I was looking for with regards to love, if I preferred being single or pursuing a relationship, and if I truly felt I knew myself well enough to not settle for something just because it was there. Because in the end, in a place like NYC, everything is always just there, and you kind of have to figure out what exactly it is you do desire and pursue it aggressively. Otherwise, you really do end up with nothing at all because the one thing I've gathered is that this is not the kind of place where you sit on the sidelines, and things just sort of happen. The competition is too fierce, and you have to really have a strong desire to be you because that is the one thing that is really easy to get lost here--you.

So I've talked A LOT about men through this whole process, and I'm sure men who are reading this are probably like, "Come on, already. Women are not perfect either." Well, that I would agree with. I've delved pretty deeply into my theory that there are basically two kinds of men, and for ages I think men have said the same thing about women. I've always heard that there are two kinds of women--the kind you date and the kind you marry. Considering how many single women there are in NYC, it would appear that this place must be filled with the kind you date. What exactly does this distinction entail, and which one am I? Well, I think the simplest way to break it down is to use the example from Gilligan's Island of Mary Ann and Ginger. Mary Ann is the kind of girl you marry. She's sweet, wholesome, a bit naive, and absolutely the girl next door that you want to swoop up because you can build a home with her and make a nice life. A girl like this will not break your heart. Then there's Ginger. She's definitely the kind of girl you date because she is sexy, fun loving, exciting, and I suppose you could say unattainable. She's the kind of girl a man would always have to worry about not being able to keep satisfied. I think to the outside world I seem like a Mary Ann. For years and I do mean years, I was told by guys that I'm not the kind of girl you date. I'm the kind of girl you marry. And it's true, once I'm into that mindset, I'm so domesticated. I love cooking and playing house and staying in and watching really bad TV with a guy even on the weekends. But I think throughout this process I have demonstrated that I definitely have shades of Ginger, too. I have this ingrained desire to experience and experiment and constantly try new things even with regards to dating. This past year I have definitely come off as the type of girl who one guy could never be enough for. And ironically, I think that is one of the primary things that has made me so appealing to a lot of the guys. Guys like a girl that ultimately they're not really sure they could have.

But I don't think either role is distorted when I portray it. Instead I really do believe that I have shades of both. I've always kind of felt like I suffered from a bit of the Sylvia Plath syndrome. No, not the wanting to stick my head in an oven or anything like that, but have you ever read the "Bell Jar?" Basically the reason she becomes so distraught and depressed is because she has this overwhelming desire to do everything. She writes about how she wants to be a wife and mother, but she also wants to be a free spirit and have many different lovers. She wants to be a world traveler and live in South America and Africa, but she also wants to be a writer and a scientist and a journalist and a professor all at once. She becomes so depressed because she feels that by picking one thing, she ultimately has to give up all of the others. I've never been Sylvia Plath depressed over it, but I suppose in a way I grapple with a similar dilemma. Of course, I think what everyone realizes is that at a certain point in life you have to center in on something that you can really be happy doing and dedicate yourself to it, and with regards to love you sort of have to do the same. You can do one extreme or the other, and nothing is wrong with either choice if that's what you truly want in that moment, but you can't really do both at the same time. I remember I was talking with my co-worker, and he has dated a lot in NYC, but actually he's been dating this one lady pretty seriously for a bit now, and he goes, "I don't know. Everyone's different. You just have to do what's right for you, but if you want to have someone special and still be playing the field, that just makes you a skank." Well said, Co-Worker.

There are two pop culture examples that I can think of that sort of offer differing viewpoints on which is better. One is the totally cheesy one hit wonder ballad by Charlene called "Never Been to Me." If you don't know this song, check it out on youtube. Basically the narrator in the song sings, "I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me." She talks about how she's been everywhere and been romanced by all different kinds of men and really experienced the best that the world has to offer, but she's singing to a woman who is married and has a baby and feels like she hasn't done anything great with her life. Charlene tells her the truth in life is that baby she's holding and the husband that she fought with this morning, the same one she'll make love with that night. Okay, I know it's cheesy, but she's basically saying that the grass is always greener. Sure, her life seems glamorous, but she has nothing to show for it, no real and valid human connection. On the flip side, I recently just finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. This has been called cheesy as well, but I have to tell you I really liked it, and I do totally want to see the Hollywood production starring Julia Roberts. It's basically about a 30 year old woman who has everything a modern woman is supposed to desire. She is successful in her career. She's married and has a great house in the suburbs. Her husband and she have recently decided to start trying to have a baby, and it's when this happens that she realizes this is not what she wants at all. She freaks out, gets a divorce, and decides to take a year long break from her life to travel to Italy to experience pleasure, India to experience spirituality, and Indonesia to find balance between the two, and as fairytale as it sounds she finds love in Indonesia at the end but with a man who is willing and able to accept her unconventional desires in life.

I think about how these representations clearly talk about how women have to make choices in life. Are you gonna focus on career, marriage, family, travel, yourself, and is it possible to have it all? I'm an optimist, and I like to believe I can and will have it all not exactly as I'm imagining but in some related form. I know 50 first dates in NYC seemed like a lot to start with and kind of ridiculous in many regards especially when chances at love emerged throughout the process, and I had to ask myself--Why? Why did I need this arbitrary number to define that I had dated "enough"? The conclusion I came to is that I've always been this way with everything, and maybe this will just always be a quality that is wholly a part of who I am. For example, until I reached the age of 24, I literally couldn't boil water. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I couldn't cook. Campbell's Soup or Hamburger Helper anyone?? My college roommates and Albert can attest to this, but then I moved back to Texarkana for a year when my mom was sick and dying, and since I didn't have a lot going on in my life, I decided I was going to teach myself how to cook so I took one of my mom's cookbooks off the shelf, and I just started cooking every night for my dad and two of my brothers who were also living there at the time. By the end of the year when I was ready to move back to LA, my oldest brother was so impressed with my ability to suddenly cook well that for my birthday he gifted me with a Betty Crocker cookbook, and I took it back to LA with me, moved in with my ex-boyfriend, and cooked the entire cookbook for him over the course of the three years that we lived together. I couldn't just cook a recipe here and there. I had to cook the whole thing.

Then when I moved to Japan, and I realized how close all the Asian countries were I couldn't just go visit a country here and there. Instead I had to visit all of them or at least most. I visited 12 countries and every major city in Japan in the two years that I lived there, and it was amazing and life changing and for a time I seriously do think I was addicted to travel. Then when I moved back to Texarkana my dad passed away last April, and I knew I had to do something. Just as cooking had been my outlet when my mom passed away and travel had been my outlet when my ex-boyfriend and I finally broke up, I had to find something to help me deal with the loss of my dad. Thus my brother #2 who is divorced and the total bachelor who never wants to marry again and I took a 7 week roadtrip around America. Again I couldn't just go to one or two places. Instead, we packed up his pick-up truck and traveled around to 30 states from the middle of June to the beginning of August. It was so awesome and inspiring because I know the song says it, but America really is beautiful. Parts of it are just stunning and look like a painting. I particularly loved the vastness and quietness of the Plains states such as the Dakotas, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, etc. There is this calmness and stillness and very few people actually given the copious amount of space. I remember when we were in North Dakota we heard the story of how Teddy Roosevelt's mom and wife died on the same day, and he just had to check out of society for a bit in order to grieve so he left his home in New York and spent a year out in the isolation of North Dakota, and man is it isolated. I really related to that because literally my ex-boyfriend and I ceased all communication in March, and my dad died in April within a month of each other, and even though I didn't know the Teddy Roosevelt story beforehand, I totally felt that's exactly what I was doing with this roadtrip as well. I was dropping out of society. I didn't check email or have a cell phone or anything for 7 weeks, and it was spectacular.

Thus, what has been the point of me throwing myself into the dating pool headfirst and full throttle in NYC? What have I been trying to work through or escape from? Well, I guess in the most honest way I can say it I was probably trying to hide from myself because in having these fleeting, one night only interactions with people, I never had to delve too deeply or worry about going below the surface too much, but throughout the process I began to realize that when I discovered what I really was looking for and what would be a good match for me, it would be clear to me. What I have discovered is that I do know who I am and what I want, and the truth is that there is no set formula for who is going to make me happy. I don't have a type, and I don't really know what will define my happy ever after. Life is not a movie. There's no easy wrap up after 2 hours and cue the ending credits song or even after 9 months nor should there be. Let's face it, if that were the case, I would definitely spend the rest of my life bored. I don't want to know how it's going to turn out. I want to be surprised and enlightened, and the biggest learning I've taken away from this is that I don't want to figure it out before I experience it first hand. I can be a control freak at times. I admit it. For someone who is ultimately free spirited, I do tend to worry about the future. I remember sharing this with the Cuban over our last dinner, and he just smiled and said, "It's natural. You're a woman."

One of my favorite movies of all time is "The Object of My Affection." It's basically where Jennifer Aniston plays this very together Social Worker who knows who she is and what she wants, but she's thrown for a loop when she falls in love with her gay best friend. At a Thanksgiving dinner party, an older, wiser gay man tells her, "Don't arrange your life so that you find yourself alone just as you reach the middle of it." The conclusion she reaches in the end is that life is about picking one person and trying to make it work with them, but of course, nothing is ever guaranteed in life, but you have to at least start out by picking someone with the potential for it to work out with. So yeah, I think I really and truly have found one such guy. I like the Brit. This blog wasn't about me coming out of it with a perfect fairytale ending where I ride off into the sunset with the Prince on the white horse so I won't portray my ending that way. In fact, I promised the Brit I would not write about the outcome of our meeting today so even I don't know what will happen, but I will tell you this. In him, I've found a guy who I connect with, who is open to new experiences, who makes me tingly inside when I kiss him, who for the most part seems to accept me for my quirkiness, my dorkiness, and my unconventionality, and who is actually stable but not boring and maybe just maybe in the end may be the steady weight I need to keep me from floating off into the utterly vague definition of fun that dating in NYC can sometimes offer.

I'll tell you something. Last night I went on one more date not because I'm addicted and not so that I could write about it, but I wanted to see what it would feel like to go out with a guy just to be going out and not with the purpose of analyzing it. He contacted me on match.com, and he seemed nice and funny. He's a law student, and we met up at the Museum of Arts and Design which by the way is a very interesting museum. He then took me to a phenomenal Japanese meal at Sakagura and the world's best cream puffs at Beard Papa's followed by a trip to the top of the Empire State Building and capped off with more karaoke in K-Town. I am addicted to karaoke. In any event, my reaction was interesting. I could tell fairly early on that he wasn't really what I was looking for, and because I was not going to write about it, I found it to be less engaging and intriguing. In a way, I kind of felt like I was killing time. I especially felt that when we were standing at the top of the Empire State Building. It really is a very romantic spot. I can see what all the hype is about, and I enjoyed it very much, but it was at that moment that I had my answer. I wasn't there with my Cary Grant from "An Affair to Remember" or my Tom Hanks from "Sleepless in Seattle." Instead I was there with a stranger. The aesthetic of the situation was perfect, being at the top of the world looking down on NYC at the stroke of midnight, but in a perfect world I would have allowed myself to be there with a guy who had the potential to be my Prince Charming. I would have been there with the Brit. And that's when I knew for certain that I don't need to do this anymore. Sure if I really give it a pure and solid chance with the Brit and it doesn't work out, I'll have the gumption to know how to put myself out there and try again, but why keep trying right now when something great is already there.

My date from last night actually made a really good point while we were having drinks at the Heartland Brewery right next door to the Empire State Building before going up. He said he thinks men in NYC suffer from the "shiny pants syndrome." Fascinated I asked, "What's that?" He explained, "A guy in New York could be sitting at a bar with a great girl who's cute and smart and funny and nice, but then a girl in shiny pants will walk by, and he's distracted, and he's thinking about her when he's already got this great girl with potential right in front of him." It's a great way of encapsulating everything I've learned from dating in NYC. People always think and worry about something better coming along. I have been very guilty of that this year. You will never fall in love if you don't give people a chance, and things will never work out if when issues arise you don't give them a chance to resolve and instead just run away. I agreed with my date, and I said, "Yeah, men get a bad rap, but I have to say that in New York, I think women oftentimes suffer from the same syndrome as well."

So in the end, what can I say about my dating experience as a whole in NYC? I had the best time ever. I saw so much. I ate at over 50 different restaurants and pretty much every kind of cuisine including the most phenomenal desserts as well. I got more cultured by looking at paintings, sculptures, photography, and the natural landscape that is New York. I was a total tourist riding the sightseeing bus, going to the Statue of Liberty, riding a boat around the Hudson River, taking a carriage ride through Central Park, having a semi-romantic moment or at least an enlightening one atop the Empire State Building. I dated so many different types of men from all different and diverse backgrounds--Asians, Caucasians, Hapas, Latin, Indian, African American. Guys from America and guys from other countries. And guys ranging in age from 25-47. I dated short guys, tall guys, skinny guys, chunky guys, shy guys, loud guys, funny guys, obnoxious guys, corporate guys, artists, altruistic types, guys with money to burn, and guys counting their pennies. I had day dates, evening dates, late night dates, dates that were Uptown, Midtown, Downtown, in Harlem, the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Jersey, even a few minutes on Staten Island. I danced, sang, listened to music, watched movies, went to bars, went to performances, clocked some balls at a batting cage, bowled, played pool, watched sports on TV, walked around aimlessly in neighborhoods, walked around aimlessly in parks, had conversations until 4 o' clock in the morning, had moments where I was thinking will this ever end and moments where I was thinking I don't want this to ever end. I dated guys looking for romance, for friendship with potential, for instant relationships, for one night stands, for something indescribable and without expectation kind of like me. I made out with four and made so much more with only two. I fell into very strong like and back into budding friendship with one special Cuban, and I fell into very strong like and a place of hope but not knowing with one special Brit. In the end, I took more than I gave. I was adored more than I allowed myself to adore back. I was asked out for second dates more than I said yes. I was both certain and unsure equal parts of the time.

I guess the most sound conclusion I am left to draw and to state right here and now is that I realized that I want to be with a guy who likes me just the way I am--neurotic yet loveable, homebodied yet free, a little bit off but ultimately sane, and a wanderluster but open to wanderlusting around with just the right person. It takes a lot for me to open my world to someone. You see, I've been pretty open with this blog, but I think I'm layered and I've only revealed what I truly want you to see, and I'll save the rest for the guy I think is worth peeling the onion back for. Other than that, I'm just really excited to enjoy summer in NYC. I hear that it's amazing. Everyone's energy level is up just because the weather is so nice and you can be out of doors enjoying it non-stop. I can't wait. It was interesting for me to do a blog, and many people have suggested to me that I don't have to stop blogging just because I've stopped dating in such a premeditated, active way, but I have to say I don't know that I would start another blog. I would have to find a topic that I was super passionate about, and alas it's also very time consuming and requires a lot of effort. I loved every minute of doing this project, but honestly I'm a bit ready to stop writing about life and just kind of be present experiencing it and being in the moment. I'm excited to start traveling again as I will officially kick off my summer correctly by traveling to Panama and Costa Rica over Memorial Day weekend for 9 illustrious days of sun, fun, and once again dropping out of society. I can't wait. As much as I love NYC, everyone's gotta get away sometime.

Before that I will be getting away to Brooklyn this lovely Sunday afternoon. I am meeting the Brit at a pie shop to explain all of this in person and to see where we go from here. As he said to me prior maybe it's time for me to stop writing about the Brit and to actually start getting to know "Paul." That's his name, and in a way I don't think he'll mind that I told you that quite simply because it makes him special, and it makes him a person and not just some curve ball that landed in the middle of all of this. This experience has been incredible. Thank you all for reading and commenting and just being interested in seeing me figure it all out. I'm happy to report that I don't have it all figured out by a long shot, but I definitely have a better idea of who I am and what I want, and yes, I know I'm like the weather in NYC changing from day to day, but on this particular day I would like a piece of pie with a cute British boy, and from there anything is possible. Like my good friend and favorite commenter Yamato once said, "Until something happens, anything can happen," and man is she right. Anything can happen!!

The End...of The Beginning...in NYC

Museum of Arts and Design: http://www.madmuseum.org/

Sakagura: http://www.sakagura.com/

Beard Papa's: http://www.beardpapa.com/

Heartland Brewery: http://www.heartlandbrewery.com/

Empire State Building: http://www.esbnyc.com/index2.cfm?CFID=38261367&CFTOKEN=41583954

Wow Karaoke: http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/47405288/new_york_ny/karaoke_wow.html

On Second Thought...

OKAY, Okay, okay, so I do realize that I've spent an awful lot of time making snap judgments and weeding out the men in this whole process and pretty quick to proclaim that if there's chemistry you feel it right away and if not you should quickly move on in order to free both of you up to find the right one. Well, after 50 first dates in NYC, I have to contend that I still agree with most of that, but I think the one surprising thing I did discover is that sometimes you need to take a second look at something. Not every kind of chemistry has the thunderbolt pop that I shared with the Cuban. I didn't even feel that with the Brit, but rather it was more of an intriguing, impending pop waiting to occur. Thus, there were three guys for various random reasons that I thought I would give a second look at--mainly because I was drawn to some aspect of them and also because they followed up and pursued me as well. Here is what I found upon second glance.

Something Old
As you'll recall I went out with Food Guy at the very end of January on date #23. My conclusion at the end of the date was that I was attracted to him, he was a lot of fun, but he was very relationship oriented, and I told him that if we were both still single when I finished my dates we should go out again. Much to my surprise, he waited patiently and got in contact ironically on April 11 which was the same day I went Speed Dating for the second time. He texted me as I was waiting for the Brit to arrive at the Delancey, and I found it so intriguing that every time I am thinking of one guy, another one appears. Maybe this really is God's way of saying very loudly, "Hey, nothing ever has to be final, and there are always options so choose wisely, but don't worry about such catastrophic thinking as ever and never entails." I finally had a free Friday on May 7 so I suggested that we go out. We meet up after work at Haru which is a sushi restaurant near Times Square. I'm waiting on the outside when I see him approach. Even though over three months has passed he looks the same. I still find him to be attractive. He seems really happy to see me. We hug, and we go inside and eat a fabulous sushi meal. It's over dinner upon second inspection of Food Guy that I don't think he's a perfect match for me. He's great. He's funny, and he has a good job in marketing, but he's a little too traditional for me. I also didn't notice it before, but he speaks very low. This restaurant is not that loud, but I find myself having to ask him to repeat most things he says. This is a bit troublesome.

After dinner he has arranged for us to go to the Laurie Beechman Theatre where on Friday nights they do an open mic night for people who want to sing Broadway tunes. We have some time to kill so we end up going in the giant Toys R' Us in Times Square. It's the one with the huge ferris wheel in the middle. This is actually a lot of fun walking around and looking at all the toys. I make him go through the Barbie section with me. Later on we find some hula hoops. I get really excited and start hula hooping around. Food Guy has this really impressed look on his face. I'm pretty impressed, too. I haven't hula hooped in ages so I'm surprised that I still remember or that my hips remember at least. Food Guy doesn't get in on the act, and this is another thing that alarms me. I need a guy that can play with the toys as well. Afterwards, we go to the theater, and the show is great. It's totally an amateur night for people aspiring to be on Broadway. It's like a weird fusion between American Idol and a karaoke bar but all centered around show tunes and very, very NYC. I love it. Food Guy and I have a great time and some apple martinis, and we stay for the whole thing until around 2 am.

Once the show is over it's late, but it's Friday night, and I say we should totally go to the McDonald's in Times Square. It's the unmistakeable one with flashy neon lights, and it's featured in the background of the Jay-Z video Empire State of Mind. We go in just for kicks, and Food Guy orders some Chicken McNuggets, and he buys me a Hamburger Happy Meal. This McDonald's is so cool because each seat along the wall is equipped with it's own personal TV screen playing music videos. Honestly I think sitting here with Food Guy eating this late night junk food and playing with the matchbox car from the Happy Meal in the middle of Times Square is the most random and fun part of the whole date for me, and I have to give him major props for it, but it's later at the subway stop as Food Guy is waiting with me for my train to come that he says, "I really want to kiss you right now," and he goes in for a kiss, and we make out for a bit near the pillar, and we release and I realize that I just don't feel anything for him. They say that sometimes all you need is the kiss to tell, and sometimes I think what they say is true. My heart doesn't skip a beat. I don't feel all tingly inside. I'm not into it. Food Guy is not the one, but I'm glad I took the time to find out. What I realize is that he had the misfortune of coming on the scene in the month following my letdown with the Cuban. I was looking for someone to light up my life again and fill the void, and frankly any guy who made me laugh more than a little would have peaked my interest but not because I was really into the guy but because he took my mind off of the disappointment with the Cuban. A rebound in a way I guess you could say. He writes me the next day saying that he had a great time and that he'd like to do it again. I write back that I think it would be better if we went the friendship route. He writes back that he understands, but he thinks we should just do our own thing. It's too bad because I thought he was really cool, but I know the feeling so well.

Haru: http://www.harusushi.com/
Laurie Beechman Theatre: http://www.beechmantheatre.com/
McDonald's Times Square: http://www.mcdonaldstimessquare.com/

Something True
The Hapa is a guy I met on date #28 the day before Valentine's Day. He had impressed me in the fact that his racial make-up matched me to a tee. He had also lived abroad in Japan for several years, and the fact that he was a bohemian/traveler/wanderer in the way that I am intrigued me very much. The reservations I had were that he was not particularly jolly or upbeat or high energy. In fact, he was very stereotypically New York in the regard of being a bit cynical and jaded. I thought it was worth a second glance just because hapas are so hard to come by, and we had kept in touch sporadically since our date in mid-February. I finally ask him to hang out with me again on the first Saturday in May. I suggest going to the Studio Museum in Harlem but before that maybe grabbing some of the great, tasty food that Harlem is known for. Of course, I am thinking of some delicious soul food from either Sylvia's or Amy Ruth's. I have heard that both are great, but before I can throw those out there, he writes back saying he thinks it's a good idea as long as we don't go to the "overhyped Sylvia's." Okay, now it's coming back to me. He's totally anti-commercialism and things that are in tourist guide books. I'm quite sure Sylvia's and Amy Ruth's are in a Lonely Planet on Harlem somewhere.

I agree to let him pick the place, and we end up going to a hole in the wall Senagalese restaurant. I'm actually really excited because this is totally off the beaten track, and I've definitely never had food from Senegal before. This place which is located in Harlem is so rustic it doesn't even have a menu. There are simply two choices given straight from the mouth of the waitress who is probably also the daughter of the owner. It's a total family establishment. I love it. The food comes, and it's spicy but very tasty, and the Hapa and I enjoy the meal very much. We also catch up on the past two and a half months in our lives. The Hapa still has not found a job, but he's been doing a lot of screenwriting. I tell him I've almost finished my 50 first dates. He tells me I should write a book. I end up telling him about my blog. After the meal, we walk around Harlem until we make it to the museum. The museum is interesting. It features art from African American artists, and it's bigger than I thought it would be. I have to say that I absolutely love Harlem. I think it's so flavorful and not like other parts of Manhattan. I know from speaking with the Hapa who grew up in NYC that it's changed tons in the past few years and is obviously a lot safer, but I love the West African influence that's present there now.

After the museum, we end up in a corner shop that sells coffee. The Hapa gets one, and I get a tea, and we sit and talk, and he gets really into the idea of turning my blog into a movie. He says one idea is that you could get all these famous comic actors to portray the different dates like Adam Sandler or Will Ferrell or Steve Carrell. Hmm...that's an interesting take on it. Kind of a different direction than I was imagining, but I'm open. It's while we're talking that I start to realize that we're falling into the friendship zone super quickly. It's nothing purposeful or premeditated, but I just don't feel anything romantic going on at this table in this little West African cafe. And I'm okay with that. I think you know when there's an overpowerful flirtation drawing you both to the center, a magnetic pull if you will. Instead I just feel like I'm chilling out with a pal, a chum, a buddy. It's later on when the Hapa writes to me that I write back that I kind of felt like we were falling into the friendship zone, and I think that's great because I can always use a good friend in a place like New York. So in a way we don't ever really have the talk, and I do think it's case by case. With some people, less is more.

Studio Museum Harlem: http://www.studiomuseum.org/

Something Borrowed
Sitcom Guy had been hanging out in the periphery of my mind since he became my date #30 around the end of February. Like Food Guy having the misfortune of following the Cuban, I think Sitcom Guy's main misfortune was that he came directly before the Brit. Unlike with Food Guy, by the time I met both the Sitcom Guy and the Brit I was a couple of months removed from the situation with the Cuban and genuinely ready to make a new connection solely for its own value and not just to try to replace something else. Thus Sitcom Guy was less persistent than the Brit. He agreed to wait until I was winding down my dates before going on a follow up, but he patiently checked in with me sporadically and from time to time for around two months. When he finally asked me if I'd like to accompany him to a Korean wedding in the Asian part of Queens, I found it to be the most outrageous follow up date I'd ever been offered, and I had to say yes.

I meet up with Sitcom Guy at the train station near my apt. When I see him approaching, he looks just like before--calm and cute and very approachable. Plus, he's in a suit, and he looks very handsome. I'm all dressed up as well, and we definitely look a bit over the top for the 7 train to Flushing at 6 pm on a Saturday evening. In any event, it's a long ride out there, and we have a lot of time to catch up. The immediate thing I notice is that it's incredibly easy to just slide back into bantering with him. It doesn't feel like almost 3 months has passed. He's goofy and sarcastic, and we laugh a lot on our ride. We go to the wedding which is for one of his friends from high school who he hasn't seen in years, but when we get there it's literally like a class reunion. All of his friends from back in the day are there, and I get introduced around. The funny thing was that on the train, Sitcom Guy asked how we should say we met. I replied, "Match.com. Why are you embarrassed?" He says, "No, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay with that." I am, but then it dawns on me that it would be great fun to make up this elaborate story, and so we do. We decide that we will say I was asking for directions to the Frick because that's where we had our first date while he was running in Central Park.

The wedding is beautiful and in Korean and so neat to get to see. The bride looks radiant. In fact, both the bride and groom are this adorable, little Korean couple, and I joke to Sitcom Guy that I just want to put them in my pocket and carry them around. He laughs. At the reception afterwards, we're eating appetizers and socializing, and I end up talking to one of his friends from high school who's a girl, and she asks how we met, and I go into full on acting mode pulling up the directions story, and he totally overhears and joins in, and we are off and running with this role play, and at this moment I realize how much I like being undercover. The rest of the reception is awesome. When the bouquet toss comes up, I can't get to the center of the floor fast enough. I totally catch the bouquet of this random Korean girl who I have never ever met. Sitcom Guy is totally proud that I'm taking one for the team. The rest of the reception is filled with dancing and drinking, and I have an absolute great time at this shindig. Sitcom Guy asks me if I want to go to karaoke after the reception. It's totally random, but I really, really want to.

We hop a cab back to Manhattan and end up in K-Town where you can rent your own private room. We go to about four places before we finally find one without a wait. We go in the room, and it's awesome. There's a tamborine, microphones, and a huge songbook with every pop tune you could possbily imagine. We proceed to sing for a good two hours. It's awesome. It reminds me of when I used to go over to my ex-boyfriend's apartment and make him play tunes on the piano, and we would literally sing for hours, and I think about how me and the Brit had started doing that with his guitar, and it's here in this karaoke room that I start to realize that this is something I definitely look for in a guy. If I'm able to sing with a guy whether with an instrument or at karaoke or in the car, I think we're halfway there to making a real and solid match. Sitcom Guy is the consummate gentleman, and he doesn't try to kiss me even though we have the privacy of the karaoke room, but he does put his arm around me, and I can sense that he's thinking of it, and there's something about him that I just like, and unlike with Food Guy or the Hapa I'm not able to dismiss him so easily after a second glance nor am I able to qualify him so quickly as with the Cuban or even the Brit. He is falling into a very gray area that is just undefinable right now.

Gagopa Karaoke: http://nymag.com/listings/bar/gagopa-karaoke/

Something Cu...bano that is.
And now we come to the Cuban. I couldn't conclude my blog without seeing him again and in a way figuring out what really happened between us and maybe in a phrase specifically answering the question of if men and women can be friends or if people who have dated before can just be friends or if me and the Cuban can really just be friends. So it's Friday night, and we are meeting for sushi. The Cuban had requested that I pick the place so I choose the Sushi Lounge which is on St. Marks at the tip of Alphabet City. We're both coming from work--me from Midtown and him from the Financial District. I instruct him to take the 6 train to Astor, and he can walk from there, and I'll meet him at the restaurant at 6:30 pm. As usual I'm running a few minutes behind, and I'm almost sure he's gonna be pissed so I barrel up the stairs and try to get oriented. I see the direction I need to head in, and I start to pass the crosswalk when I feel someone jerk my arm, and I turn, and it's him. Man oh man, what a sight for sore eyes. After four and a half months, there the Cuban is. He's just come from the office so he has on this button down blue shirt, and he looks good. He looks really, really good even better than I remember actually. I say, "Hey, you scared me." He's laughing and very pleased with himself. He says, "You looked so serious. You were in hot pursuit of your destination." We do the Cuban kiss on the side of the mouth thing. I say, "Well, yeah, I was running late, and I thought you were gonna be pissed." He laughs.

It turns out he doesn't know this area that well at all so he lets me lead, and it suddenly seems that something has shifted from when we first met seven months ago, and I didn't know north from south and definitely didn't know where to get a decent sushi meal. As we're walking, we immediately start talking, and it's fun, it's fresh, it's alive. It's really, really great to see him in such a good mood after the last one we left each other in. We catch up on his job and his music (he's learning the flute), and everything else in between. We pass by some garbage bags. He pretends he's going to shove me in. I swing him around and try to do the same. Damn, why is this guy so much fun? Eventually we reach Avenue A, and there Sushi Lounge is in a fluorescent yellow building calling out to us. We get seated, and we start looking at the menu. He puts his over mine so I can't see mine. He's such a child. I love it. I threaten to punch him. We order our sushi. I get some tako-yaki. He asks me what that is. I tell him it's octopus balls and that he should try it. He says no way, and then I tell him it's not really. It's just fried octopus, but it's in the shape of balls, but he doesn't believe me.

And then I say, "So I finished my 50 first dates." He says, "Wow, you finished right when you predicted, right around May." I say, "Yep, my last one was last Sunday." He listens very intently, and then he asks, "So what do think was the main thing you learned from the whole experience?" I think for a bit, and I say, "I think I learned lots, but I came away with 3 main points. 1. I learned that you don't have to know what it all means right now, and instead you should just enjoy it for what it is in the moment, and if it's not working you'll know and you can move on, and you'll be okay, but don't try to figure it all out before it happens. 2. I was curious about dating in a social setting that was so unique as that of NYC, but in the end serial dating is not for me. I want to form something real and meaningful with one person. 3. Dating really is just a number's game. Out of 50 men, there were 5 with potential, and I would say there were 2 with definite potential." He takes it all in, and I remember so clearly what it was I was always so drawn to in him. He is a guy that really is a fusion and really does have it all. He's so charismatic, but he's such a good listener, and he really wants to learn from anyone he's interacting with, and in the same token he's quite knowledgable. I would say he's street smart.

So I tell him that he really was different from the other guys I dated. I tell him that I dated a ton of corporate guys, and somehow there was just kind of a vacantness in them, and they were very business like, and he's different, and I do think that's why I was able to connect with him. He asks me about my worst dates, and I tell him some stories. He's engaged as always, and then I can't help myself. I say, "So what about you? How's your love life? Are you engaged?" He says, "What love life? I have no time." He then tells me about the schedule he's been keeping at work. When we parted ways in January, he really was entering busy season, and it seems he's barely had a spare moment since. Of course, he does still go out, but he's of the thought that those things just kind of happen naturally instead of seeking them out. By the way, the sushi is amazing. I love sharing this meal here with him. We are laughing the whole time, and it's so easy to just be with him. He is such a natural goofball which is incredibly hard to find. Most people have to try entirely too hard, and that's the thing that I really dig about him and really like about him. I tell him more than anything this past year I didn't feel balanced. It was fun dating and having so many random experiences, but I think now I'm ready to just kind of calm down a bit and enjoy the everyday moments of living in NYC and settle into a more serious relationship with someone. He takes it in maybe somehow seeing how I've come full circle and in other ways maybe not.

After dinner we're both heading back to the 6 train so we walk and talk. Eventually at the crosswalk, I can't help myself again, and I have to ask the one question that will give me closure. I ask, "So at what point did you realize we would be better as just friends?" He replies, "Do I have to answer that?" I say, "No." But he does. He says, "It was very soon after you did that whole 'break up' business. I could just see that you weren't grounded enough. Your curiosity and your thirst to discover everything is so great, and I'm the same way, but it was just too much. You didn't have anything weighting you down." There, he said it. I really was too complicated. And I feel this release because absolutely everything he's saying is true and what I've learned about myself in this project. I was too all over the map, and in many ways the Cuban is too, but I agree with him, and I say, "You're so right. Whoever I end up with is going to have to be stable as a rock because that's what I need." And in many ways, I think that's what the Cuban needs, too. We're too similar, and when you put us together a fire ignites, and as we've seen it's dangerous. Very, very fun but dangerous. Because the Cuban and I are so alike, in many ways I think he has an understanding of who I am and what I need in a way that most guys I've dated never have.

Once we reach the subway we have to part ways because we're going in different directions. I say, "So you think men and women can be friends?" He says, "I think so, but it takes two." This makes sense to me because I remember one time being on a train in Hong Kong with my friend from college Yoko, and I asked her if she thought me and my ex-boyfriend the Pianist would ever be normal friends. She said, "Sure, but I think it's up to you, and it's up to the Pianist." And in this moment, if I want to be friends with the Cuban I think it's up to him, and it's up to me, and I really, really do want to be friends with him. We get along so well. I don't know. There's just this energy between us, and he makes me laugh like not everyone can. Maybe it didn't work out between us, but after this dinner I truly believe it's not because the chemistry wasn't there or the attraction. Rather, I think we met at the wrong time, and we'll just have to remain as two passing ships in the night. But I like having him in my life, and if friendship is what it takes to keep him there then I could settle for that. He says, "Alright, Girl," and we do the Cuban kiss on the side of the mouth to say goodbye. As he's walking down the stairs I say, "I'll see ya in four and a half months." He says, "I asked you to go to dinner after three and a half months. You're the one who took a month to be free." I smile and say, "Okay, I'll see ya in three and a half months then," and I probably will. Gracias, El Cubano, and not just for giving me something great to write about.

Sushi Lounge: http://www.sushiloungenyc.com/

This one's for the girls.

In every place I have ever lived and in every chapter, I have always had good girlfriends to keep the balance going and to provide a feeling of support in knowing that it's okay if you haven't found Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now. In the same breath, I'm not a girly girl by any means. Definitely I like dressing up if the occasion calls for it, but I'm more downhome. I'm never gonna be that girl that gets up two hours early to pick out an outfit and do the hair and make-up. That's just not me. I'm much more earthy, and so are all the girls I have ever really bonded with. So in that regard I'm not like Carrie Bradshaw at all. Maybe some of it could be attributed to the fact that I have 3 brothers so I really like hanging out with guys as well and doing guy things like rough housing and playing video games, and that's why at the end of the day I really do believe men and women can be friends, or at least I know that I can be friends with men and actually have really had a strong desire to be friends with some of the guys I've gone on dates with even if I wasn't feeling anything romantic. And then, of course, we all know how I feel about the gay male companion. I am a huge champion. I have always said that I don't need a hundred friends to function. In fact, in any given environment if I have a good girlfriend, a gay friend, and a boyfriend I am fulfilled on all fronts.

In my first couple of years of college, I hung out with these 3 great girls named Michele, Julia, and Esther. Then in the latter half of college, Michele and I lived with our other 2 friends Gladys and Yoko. Michele, along with my gay pal Albert, was my steadfast confidante for my first few years in LA. She carried me through every major crush, one hot month, disappointment, intrigue, and so much more with regard to boys and love. She would get really into my stories and let me pour over every small detail pertaining to whichever boy I was crazy about at the moment. In a nutshell, I was absolutely boy crazy when I first moved to LA. In fact, I distinctly remember Michele once telling me, "Carole, all you ever talk about is school and boys." So good to see that not much has changed in 10 years time. In any event, Esther and Julia are both married now, and Yoko just got engaged. Congatulations, Yoko!! I'm so excited for her wedding because she's a total foodie, and I know that aspect is going to be off the hook, but beyond that it will just be so wonderful to see a friend committing her life to a partner who she truly loves and who she knows will make her happy for the rest of her life. When I lived in Japan, I hung out with 3 other great girls named Yamato, Kristen, and Sheenae. I had so much fun traveling around with them. Also, my neighbor was this great gay guy named Roman who would always knock on my door and ask me if I wanted to go get chocolate, and then we would talk about boys and traveling and living in Japan and then watch movies or look at PerezHilton.com on his computer. Hey, you have to pass the time in the Japanese countryside somehow. Coincidentally Yamato just got married as well. Congratulations, Yamato!! So it's kind of weird seeing your friends entering into this next serious stage of life. It's not weird in a bad way. It's just moreso an acknowledgement that your life is evolving and growing into a different chapter, and to properly grow as a person you have to ease into each new stage with confidence and clarity, and above all you have to know what's right for yourself. You can't just decide it's time to grab a guy because everyone around you is doing that. Rather, I think falling in love and wanting to build something with someone that is bigger than the both of you is what draws someone into something like marriage.

Now currently in New York, my girls are Dawn and Paola. I have a great time with them, and they are very single, and since a friend from all of my prior groups has gone into that marriage zone, I'm wondering who it will be out of the 3 of us, and I actually find myself thinking it will probably be me just because out of all of us I am more focused on that, and I have been more proactive about really seeing what's out there. But then again when I am with them, it feels totally more than okay being single which again I think goes back to that single girls' camraderie support network that has always been so apparent in my life. It's interesting though because I was talking to one of my dates prior, and honestly I haven't met a ton of people in NYC whose lives are like that TV show "Friends." This city is so big and diverse that it doesn't seem like a ton of people have 5 other people who they see on a daily basis and who they hang out with and do everything with all the time. For example, Julia from my LA days now lives in New York as does Sheenae from my Japan days. I also have my psychology friends and now my go to girls Dawn and Paola, but all of these groups are real and separate entities so I find that when I couple that with school, work, and a dating life, I only hang out with each of them maybe once every month or couple of months. Man, if there's one thing I've discovered from this year in NYC it's that people are busy including myself.

In any event, last Friday night it was Dawn's birthday, and it was a perfect excuse to get together with her and Paola and celebrate in true blue NYC style. So we go eat dinner at Il Porto which is in our neighborhood, and afterwards we decide that we have to go to Water Taxi Beach. For those of you that don't know, Water Taxi Beach is this outdoor "club" located at the Southstreet Seaport. It's made up to look like a beach with sand and everything. I have to give you some background. Last August, it was the first Friday after Dawn and I had moved to NYC, and we wanted to go exploring around. Naturally being complete neophytes, neither one of us had a clue as to what to do or where to go. We hadn't even heard of Timeout NY. So we picked a street and wondered down it until we happened upon the Southstreet Seaport where all of the action was taking place because the weather was so nice. We ended up eating at one of the restaurants with outdoor seating, and afterwards we wandered over to Pier 17 and walked around to where we suddenly heard loud music and saw a ton of people milling about.

We were both so excited. For all intents and purposes, this seemed like a "cool" place, and it was so very close to where we lived. Thus, we decided to just hang out on one of the benches kind of scoping out the scene, and there were all of these shady looking guys. It definitely seemed like an older crowd. Some of these guys were clearly in their 40s, and the more I kept looking around I started to notice something. My keen observation skills and knowledge from the past did not fail me. I realized something, and I had to share it with Dawn. I said, "It's a gay club." She said, "Really?" I think she was a bit disappointed because she kind of likes older guys. It turns out it was a special throw back night to some gay club that used to be around in the 1980s which explains why all the 40 year olds were out in full force. I was like, "Yeah, these guys are all gay," and it totally was a gay club which made me even more excited about actually going inside. We ended up getting in the line, but then we found out the cover was $25, and we were like "forget that." Instead we ended up just walking around the perimeter because the way Water Taxi Beach is set up, you can totally hear the music and see what's going on inside because there are no walls only a small knee high fence so we spent the evening doing what is the story of my life--on the outside looking in, and I actually think we had way more fun that way. In any event, Water Taxi Beach is only open in the summer, and I sort of told myself that we would actually go back there one of these nights, and so Dawn's birthday was perfect because it was opening night of the season.

So Dawn, Paola, and I go inside, and we get a drink. I go with the obvious choice, a margarita. We kind of scope out the scene. It's early so it's not really too packed. I guess they must rotate the themes because tonight is definitely not an 80s gay night. Instead it seems to be a Latin theme. They're playing a lot of Latin music, and the crowd is really an odd, eclectic mix. There are some really, really young looking people, and then there are some really old looking people like in their 60s. Interesting. We end up parking ourselves on one of the benches on the sand. The view is the best part of this place. We're right under the Brooklyn Bridge, and the sparkle looks so magical at night. We look at the dance floor. There's one Latin guy absolutely dominating the dance floor, no partner necessary. I laugh. This totally reminds me of the Cuban. I turn to the girls, and I say, "That's totally how the Cuban is on the dance floor." They laugh, too. After a coupla more songs, we hit the dance floor as well, and it's super fun. The music is good. The fresh Hudson River breeze is blowing in. There are no male prospects in sight, and I am okay with that. It's fun just being here with the girls.

After a little while, we're ready to hit up a more traditional NYC hotspot. Paola has come with a recommendation. She says one of her friends is DJing at this place called Amnesia so I suggest that we get outta here and go check it out. We hop on the train, and we emerge somewhere near Chelsea. I get really excited. I say, "This is the gayborhood. We could go to a gay club." Dawn and Paola laugh. I'm such a hag, like a moth to a flame. In any event, I reassure Dawn that we are in fact going to a straight club just for her. We arrive, and it is so NYC with the roped off area. We get inside, and it's dead at first, but it really starts to pick up about an hour or so later. The phrase, "People don't go out until midnight in NYC" really starts to become clarified at this point. I'll be honest with you, at this point this whole situation becomes completely observational from my viewpoint. I start to think about how this is a whole lifestyle for some people, and some people are so serious about it.

When I lived in LA, I loved to go out, but I mainly went out to gay clubs. They were so much fun. You could go and dance and not be harrassed and just have a good time. On the rare occasion that I would actually go to some Hollywood club I would notice that everyone looked alike. Everyone dressed alike, and it was all sort of cookie cutter. It wasn't my scene at all, and the funny thing is that here at this club in NYC I'm getting the same vibe. All of the guys look alike, and even all of the girls look alike, too. Not one single dude stands out as someone I would want to approach. It's just a mass production of skeeviness. That is until a couple of hours in, and we're dancing, and he walks in. There's always someone who stands out amongst the crowd. On this particular occasion it's a guy who comes in, and he has on the thick rimmed glasses and a scarf. He's attractive. There's something distinctive about him, and it's because he has a style all his own. I become really enamored, and I really feel like I want to meet this guy.

At one point, we're up on the second level, and I look down, and I see Scarf Guy on the first level near the bar talking with his friends. Dawn leans over, and she says, "Mabel thought that guy was cute." (Mabel is one of Dawn's classmates who joined us for a bit and then left). I gasp, and I say, "I totally think he's cute, too." We watch him for a while, and then he leaves the bar area to go to a different part. I say to the girls, "Let's go down and dance near him." They say, "You are not shy, Carole." And I'm thinking, "You think?" We go down. I'm waiting for the perfect moment to intercept, but he's always with people. This is a very delicate situation. You have to find just the right moment to make it look coincidental. Eventually I see him go back near the bar. I'm at a loss. I have to talk to this guy. It's so funny. It's almost like a game of cat and mouse to me. This reminds me of the first night at Speed Dating where I was so determined to catch Mr. Handsome. It's all a game to me. At this point Paola is back up on the second level, and I say to Dawn, we have to go find Scarf Guy. I start heading to the bar. This must be the eleventh hour because it seems like every guy tries to pull us into dance as we're making our way to the bar. It almost seems like at a certain hour every guy has to grab a girl, and as I'm in hot pursuit of Scarf Guy maybe I'm no different. I round the corner, and I see Scarf Guy...but...he's with a girl. And they look very intimate, and I'm totally bummed out. The dude has a girlfriend, or something. I turn back around and push Dawn in the other direction, and I say, "He has a girlfriend." She says, "Really?" I say, "Yeah, he was kissing some girl." We proceed onto the bar, and as we are walking we pass right by Scarf Guy and his girl who are walking in the other direction. Small bummer maybe, but it added some excitement to my night, and man am I so happy I didn't try to talk to him before realizing he was spoken for. That girl would have beaten the crap out of me.

Anyways, Dawn, Paola, and I carry on with our night. We dance like crazy to all of the songs, and we have just a really great time. Dawn makes a funny observation later on. She says, "I remember when I was in my early 20s I would go to clubs, and there would always be these older chicks who were just really into it and didn't care what anyone thought. All I could keep thinking was that was us tonight." I bust out laughing because she's totally right. We are now officially those older chicks who are just there to have a good time and are really oblivious about being hip or trendy because let's face it. Anyone who seriously uses the word hip is beyond help at this time. But the thing of it is that even when I was 22 I was never like the girls I saw at the club tonight. There's nothing wrong with it if that's your thing, but I am way too dorky and downhome for all of that. I'm just glad I can appreciate the novelty of it and enjoy being single while I can and have some great girls to enjoy my life with in NYC. Yes, I am in pursuit of love, connection, intimacy, but I think at the background there has to be a strong base of support so that you don't ever feel like if it doesn't work out with a guy there won't be anyone there and also just to have someone to be on the outside looking in on the coolness with you. So to all my girls whether you were busy being dorky at a dance club with me when I was in my early 20s, late 20s, or now early 30s, I raise my glass to you, and I say, "Don't stop believing," oh yes, in that power to be free and to just be.

Water Taxi Beach: http://www.watertaxibeach.com/
Amnesia: http://www.amnesianyc.com/home

Date #50--The French Guy

I have finally made it to my 50th and final first date in NYC at least as far as this blog is concerned. There were moments where I didn't actually think I would see this day arrive, and there were others where I was so determined that it must, but in any event I am here on a beautiful, sunny Sunday in May. My date is not until 4 pm, and I am meeting him at the Southstreet Seaport Museum. My rommate Dawn has been working there since November, and all these months that have passed by I've kept telling her I would come in and visit her and finally see the museum one of these days. Thus, the timing seems perfect because it's actually her last day there as well. Dawn will be spending the summer doing a trek in South Dakota followed by an internship somewhere in New England so we'll actually be parting ways in just a few short days as well. As a result, her mom and uncle have driven in from Pennsylvania today to help pack up her portion of the apartment. I didn't want to be in the way, and it is such an overly apparent awesome day weather wise that I couldn't resist heading down to my usual spot on the third level of Pier 17.

I arrive there around 12:30 pm, and I immediately notice that the tourist high season is in session. Many of the fold out chairs are occupied today so I decide to round the corner, and I find a bench that is completely empty. I take a seat, and I stare out on the Brooklyn Bridge. I watch the ships go by. I think about life. I think about what this past 8 months of dating has meant to me and in my life. I think about the numerous random encounters I have had, the vast number of restaurants, museums, parks, neighborhoods, tourist attractions, and people I have explored in this journey. And I think about the men who have really touched me in this journey--the Cuban and the Brit. At one point or another they both evolved into a friend and a lover, and now the Cuban is a friend, and I'm trying to work out what the Brit will ultimately become. I wrote him on Friday and told him that I would be ready to meet up with him on Sunday, May 23 to talk about everything and also that I would be obviously through with my dates as well. I suggested meeting at a pie shop that my co-worker recommended in Park Slope called Four and Twenty Blackbirds. He wrote back with two requests--that I have at least a week between my final date and when we meet up to really think about things and process everything and be sure of how I'm feeling and where I'm at and secondly that I completely conclude my blog before meeting so that there is no obstacle of a bizarre love triangle once again resurfacing. The first request was no problem. The second required me to marinate for a bit. Obviously I will want to put some concluding thoughts onto this whole process in the week that I'm evaluating everything, and I just wanted to make sure I could draw a sound conclusion and write about it before agreeing to it so after 4 days contemplation I wrote back that I could and would do both of his requests. We are set to meet next Sunday. In a way, I guess you could say I've already begun the digestion process as I sit here in my spot thinking over everything.

All of a sudden I turn to look to my right, and there he is. I have to do a double take. Is that really him? I look away. I look back and have the same thoughts and look away. This time when I look up a third time, he is making eye contact with me. It's the Brit. He's here in the spot with me in person. I'm in shock. I just smile in silence for a moment, and I say laughingly, "What are you doing here?" He says, "I don't know." Maybe we're both in a state of disbelief that out of all the spots in NYC we could both be magnetically drawn to this one in this exact moment. We weren't supposed to meet for 7 more days, but maybe fate wants us to have an appetizer before the main course. The Brit comes and sits next to me, and we talk. We just catch up mainly about the month we've been apart, and the astonishing thing is that it's not weird or tense or even hard. It's really easy to slide back into each other as if 30 days have not come and floated past. I ask him about his improv and his job and even his dating. He asks me about my dating and my blog and such. And then he asks, "Do you want to get some ice cream?" Umm Hmm...it's a perfect day for it. I tell him that I do.

We head towards Battery Park, and we stop at one of the ice cream trucks along the way, and he buys us both a cone. We enter the park and find a bench by the water. I can't believe I am getting to do something fun with the Brit on a day when it was least expected because up until the moment I laid eyes on him I thought I would be spending the hours leading up to #50 in contemplation, but I don't mind. I somehow like the alternative. I like being with the Brit as opposed to being alone in contemplation. I haven't let too much out of the bag because I want to save my major thoughts and conclusions for our meet-up the following Sunday so instead this has been a delightful afternoon of sort of just being in the moment and being spontaneous and people watching the tourists and kissing in the sun. When 3:30 approaches it's time for me to head back to the Southstreet Seaport for my actual date. The Brit and I hug goodbye, and I don't let go in the natural instance when the hug has ended, and both people normally release. The Brit says, "Do you not want to let go?" I release and say, "No, no I don't." But I know I must. I want to be only slightly late as opposed to very late for my very last date, and with that we say goodbye.

Once I am walking back I am able to look at my phone and realize that the French Guy has texted me that he's actually the one running late and probably won't arrive until around 4:15. I feel relieved that I can actually take my time walking back and really swallow what just happened. I always talk about movie moments. That was totally a movie moment. I remember the Brit saying, "I don't know why, but when I woke up this morning something told me to come here today." It was like some cosmic force. Weird but magical all at once. As soon as I reach the museum, I text the French Guy that I'm sitting on one of the stone benches in front. While I'm waiting I have time to take in and just really enjoy the atmosphere of the Southstreet Seaport. I have spent many a night here. In fact, I remember when I first moved here, Dawn and I were both completely new to the City, and neither one of us knew very many people so we did this thing where every Friday night we would go eat at a different restaurant at the Southstreet Seaport. I've seriously eaten at all of them. That lasted for about the first month, and then pretty soon after that I joined match.com and started going on more dates than not on the weekends, and life just kind of swept in and introduced me to NYC beyond this neighborhood, but I will say that the one thing that really struck me about this neighborhood when I first moved here is that it didn't remind me of NYC at all. I've never seen it featured in any movies, and when Dawn and I would eat at the outdoor seating of all the restaurants because the weather was still so nice back in September, I remember always feeling like I was somewhere in Europe. I absolutely loved it. Southstreet Seaport, you may not ever be the most well known of the NYC neighborhoods, but I will always heart you just a little something extra.

Around 4:30 I finally see the French Guy approaching. He is dressed appropriately for the upcoming summer season all in white. It's fitting because it totally matches the white summer dress I am wearing. It looks like we coordinated without even trying. I wave, and I get up to meet him. We hug each other. The French Guy is cute. He is a short guy, maybe 5'6, but he's attractive in that French sort of way. I know I usually go on and on about my little international fantasies of British, Australian, Latin guys, but honestly I've never thought much about dating a French guy. I wouldn't be opposed to it, but I guess I just never knew much about them growing up. The thing that does ring in my mind is Paris and how it's the city of love, and that's where this guy is from so maybe in some subconscious way I was anticipating at least a mock romantic situation for my 50th date, and I chose him. In any case, we go into the museum and get the tickets. The ticket includes access to the museum as well as two of the boats over in the harbor. The French guy suggests that we go look at the boats first because it is so nice out. I concur.

We walk over to the water, and we climb on the first boat and have a look around. This totally reminds me of the Intrepid Museum how you get to tour the actual ship. It is vast and expansive, and I get to learn about the French Guy as we explore. He lives in New Jersey actually. He's been there for about 8 years. He is a pilot, but he flies privately for a very wealthy businessman and his wife. He grew up in Paris, and he has that charming accent. He says his grandmother lived in NYC so as a child he would come visit her every year. He was in love with this place and always dreamed of living here someday. He has a very nice schedule. He only flies about two days out of the week, and he has the other five to explore at his leisure usually in the City. We segue to the second boat. Just as we're approaching, I hear my name being called, "Carole." I look up, and it's Dawn. It looks like she's working the second ship. We climb onboard, and I introduce her to the French Guy. I say, "I told you I would come visit you." I mention that she's from Pennsylvania, and then I tell Dawn, "He's from France," very excitedly. Dawn says, "So a French Guy on match.com in America." He smiles sheepishly and says, "Yes, but only recently." I tell her we're gonna have a look around.

Since it's been brought up we go ahead and talk about match.com. He joined a couple of months ago mainly because he got tired to dating Jersey girls. He says he finds them to be very narrow, and he couldn't do it anymore. He says he's been on about four dates so far. I ask, "So have you had any luck?" He says, "I liked them all." I smile and say, "Yeah, there's a lot of good people out there. I've met some nice guys as well." As we walk around the ship, it's amazing. The wood is crisp and polished. My favorite part is standing on the deck as the wind breezes by. We say goodbye to Dawn, and we make our way back to the museum portion. There's a special exhibit on the Normandie and on FDR's collection of model ships. We walk through. It's interesting, but I have to say that I think the actual ships were the best part of this museum. At 6 pm the museum is closing, and we exit out.

The French Guy suggests that we get coffee first since it is still so early. We stop at J.P. Mustard since it has nice outdoor seating. It's funny because this is the very first restaurant I ever ate at here so many months ago. Okay, in case you can't tell I am feeling a tad bit sentimental and aware of how quickly time passes and exactly how many memories it is possible to make in 3 quarters of a year. It's immeasurable. So far, I like the French Guy. I can't really tell if he likes me. He's a bit hard to read, but he's very nice and easy to be around. Oh, and of course, I like his accent which is subtle because he's been living in America for so long. Plus, he grew up speaking English so he's been bilingual his entire life. He says he loves NYC, but the one thing it's missing is tons of cafes. He says they are literally on every corner in Paris. I'm actually excited to talk to him about Paris. I tell him that I visited 10 years ago and absolutely loved it. I say, "I know French people have a reputation for being rude, but actually I didn't find that to be the case at all. I mean maybe they were making fun of me, and I just didn't understand, but I didn't have any bad experiences while I was there." He says, "Yes, in tourist areas people can be rude just because they don't need the business. There will always be more tourists, but in general, Parisians do not hate Americans." I tell him a funny story about how when I was in Paris I didn't know what the word for water was, and me and my friend has the hardest time getting the waiters to understand that we just wanted to drink water. I ask him what the word is, and he says it's eau. I say, "That's it. I better remember that for future reference."

The French Guy orders an espresso, and I order a tea, and we talk about his experiences with love. He actually just got out of a relationship a few months ago. They were together for four years. She was an American girl. This is a bit of a red flag. Not the American or the four years but the a few months ago part. I think maybe it's too soon for him, but surely he knows himself best of all. I ask him what kinds of girls he's dated, and he tells me a variety. He's dated white American girls and Latin girls and a couple of Asian ones. He is very French in his thinking. He does not put relationships in terms of having to last forever or having to be final destinations. Instead he values them in the moment and remains friends with his ex's and on occasion dates more than one girl at a time. He's very free and liberated, and maybe I should retract that it's too soon for him to be looking for anything serious. He strikes me as the kind of person who does exactly what is right for him in every moment of the day. He tells me that part of the problem he had with the Thai girl he dated was that she had no opinion about anything. She just agreed with everything, and he couldn't take it. He wants a woman who definitely has an opinion.

I have an opinion. I tell him that I really love the French way of life and actually the European way of life as a whole. It's my perception that people really enjoy their lives, and they have everything in moderation. I like the idea of really pleasuring your experience in this world. The French Guy tells me that he loves America, but when he has children he does not want them to be raised in America. He does not like the education system here. I ask him if the fact that he will not live here forever is what caused the break-up with his girlfriend, and he says, "No, rather it was that she is a very independent person. She does not know if she even wants to have kids at all." So I'm beginning to see that the French Guy definitely likes strong women.

After we finish our beverages, the French Guy tells me that he knows a lovely French restaurant in Chelsea that is run by French people and is very authentic. I get really excited because it will be just like that time the Cuban took me to a Spanish restaurant on our first date. The French guy will be speaking in French, and I ask him if he will order for me. He says, "But of course." The French Guy drove in from Jersey so we walk to his car. It's nice. It's a white BMW. We get inside and start making our way down the street. I suddenly start realizing I've waited way too long to eat. I only had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and since I ran into the Brit I didn't have time to grab lunch so I am literally famished at this point. I'm feeling a bit light headed and queasy, but I don't want to freak the French Guy out so I just comment on how nice the sun roof is. I ask him if he ever uses it, and he opens it for me. I ask if I can put the window down because it's so nice out. He lets me. And then we get stuck on this one tight street behind a giant bus and construction. We're not moving. I'm starting to feel really weird and nauseous from the hunger. I have to say that given the alternative of being on a subway at this point, this is still definitely better, but I'm kind of wiggling around and shifting from side to side to take my mind off of being so hungry. It probably looks like I'm trying to be sexual though I'm just trying not to hurl. It's so funny how sensuality and nausea can resemble each other if no context is given.

Finally, finally we get to moving, and the breeze starts coming in the car, and I think I'll make it to dinner, but I still can't help but ask the French Guy, "Are you not totally starving right now?" He says, "Yes, I am very, very hungry." I say, "Oh, my stomach's eating itself right now," as I squeeze the handgrip from the ceiling. Eventually we arrive at the restaurant which is called Gascogne, and I have to say I don't think I've ever been happier to see a restaurant in all of my dates. I would have seriously settled for some street meat at this point, but this is more charming than I could have imagined. The French Guy requests a table out in the garden in back. When we get outside I feel like I am in Paris. It is so cute and so quaint, and this is absolutely the perfect restaurant to end my 50 first dates at. It is in open air, and there are lights strung across the top just like in the city of lights itself. We look at the menu, and it looks divine. I immediately ask if we can get escargot. Come on, you all know me by this point in the journey. Would you expect anything less? The French Guy certainly wouldn't. He loves that I'm so adamant, and we also get an accompanying appetizer with goat cheese. For the main course, the French Guy recommends the duck confit so I choose that, and he gets a different duck dish. We decide on a rose wine to go along with everything. The French Guy orders everything in French, and this I find to be so sexy and appealing. When he is done I say, "I love hearing you speak French. That is so cool." He says, "I can speak more." This whole scene is so very French, and I decide to be totally in the moment when I completely tackle the bread basket. OMG, the minute I bite into the buttery bread, I am happy beyond belief that I made it here without passing out from hunger.

I tell the French Guy that my favorite thing about Paris was the food. I remember every night going to different restaurants and having the three course meal, and it would last typically around 3 hours. Eating is such an event and such an artform there. You gotta love that. Sporadically the French waitress comes around and refills our wine or water glass. I take to saying merci everytime instead of thank you. The French Guy says, "You are very cute. You love saying merci." I say, "It's because it's the only word I know in French. Well, and also oui and bon jour and au revoir." He says, "Aah, you are very good." I say, "No, no." The food is absolutely amazing at this French joint. Every morsel feels and tastes like it was prepared with the utmost care. The escargot is outstanding. It's baked in these adorable crispy shells that are almost too pretty to eat. That's the thing with good French food. It's all about presentation. When the duck comes I say, "It's too pretty to eat. I'm just going to sit and stare at it the whole night. You go ahead." He laughs, and he says, "Bon Appetit." I say, "Oh, that's right. I forgot I know that phrase, too. In Japanese, we say Itedakimasu before we eat." He says, "E-tay-doki-mos?" I say, "Yep," and we chow down, but we don't eat like Americans on this night. We savor every bite. We interchange it with sips of delicious wine. We hold the flavor in our mouths for just a few seconds more than we normally would. We enjoy this food doubly as much because we were so hungry and because the company is so good.

I am really loving this cultural exchange with the French guy. He's a great guy. I tell him about my experiences in Paris, about how much I loved the Eiffel Tower and Versailles and the Louvre and the pastry shops--the dozens and dozens of pastry shops on every corner. I tell him about how I adored the eclairs, and I would have one every morning. He smiles and nods in acknowledgment. I then tell him that at one of the pastry shops there was a pastry shaped like a pig. He says, "A pig?" I say, "Yes, you know the animal. It was pink on the outside, and it had the snout, and when you bit in it was all chocolate inside. Very French." He says, "I don't think I have ever seen that one. Where was the pastry shop?" I say, "I don't know. I think it was somewhere near the Eiffel Tower." I also tell him about how I went to the cemetary where Jim Morrison is buried and the red light district and the really funky part where all the artists hang out. I can't remember the name of it. He refreshes my memory, and I tell him about getting a henna tattoo there. I say, "French people are really goofy, aren't they? That's the feeling I get." He says, "Do you think so? I used to think I was funny in France, but now I do not feel like I am so funny in America." I ask him if French people are really into physical comedy because I heard Jerry Lewis is super popular over there. He tells me that every American he's ever met has asked that question, but he in fact doesn't even know who Jerry Lewis is.

He gets a text message in the middle of the meal from his ex-girlfriend letting him know that her folks will be in town next week and wants to know if he can join them for dinner. Sure, I know they have a ton of history, and I'm sure he was close with her family, but this is what I'm talking about with maybe it's too soon. He tells me that he actually doesn't want to go, but his parents were in town a few months ago, and his ex-girlfriend got together with them so maybe that's why she is asking him to reciprocate. He excuses himself to the restroom, and while he is gone our desserts come. Yes, that was plural. We order a creme brulee, and a French chocolate cake. There is an older couple who have been sitting next to us the entire night, and the older gentleman asks me about what we ordered. We make some small talk, and then he says, "I heard you talking about your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. Forget about her, Honey. It's the past. Don't talk about her." Spoken straight from the lips of a guy who looks like he's been married about 40 years. I laugh and tell him, "I won't bring her up anymore." It also makes me realize that I guess we seem comfortable together because this guy automatically assumed the French Guy was my boyfriend. I think back on all the dozens of men and dates, and I wonder what percentage of them it looked like we had known each other for ages and what portion it was painfully obvious that it was an awkward first date. I actually haven't had that many awkward first dates luckily. Most of them have been so much fun, but yes, definitely some have been more comfortable and more rewarding than others.

When the French Guy returns we dig into the desserts. We each eat half of each dessert. They are fantastically French in every way. So pretty, so well prepared, so light and not over the top filling. I love the fact that you never feel stuffed after a French meal yet you feel entirely satisfied. I'm definitely a big ole fan of French cuisine. Once we've finished everything I look at my watch. It's about 10 o'clock. I say, "Wow, that was just like in Paris. A three hour meal. I am so happy and satisfied at this moment." He looks at me very seriously but smiling and says, "I needed that meal. It had been too long since I had such a good French meal. I must come back here more often." He asks me if I would like to go for a drink somewhere. I say sure. We walk up the street a few blocks until we come to the Westside Tavern. The French Guy tells me that he used to come here quite often. Knowing I've been drinking wine all night, I order a Chardonnay, and the French Guy orders a beer. We take a seat in back.

I don't know what to tell you, but I've actually had a really good time on this date. Even though the French Guy thinks he is not funny, I think that he is. Even though he's shorter than what I usually go for, I still find him to be quite attractive. Even though I've never had a thing for French guys, over the course of this date I've come to see how terribly charming the accent and outlook on life is. Honestly I can't even begin to go into detail about the number of other topics we touched on. They ranged from French celebrities and movies to other parts of America and growing up in France. I ask the French Guy what the most number of girls he's ever dated at one time is, and he says 3. I ask him how long he was able to sustain that, and he says only a couple of months. He says he didn't like it because you become too tired, and you just burn out. I ask him if a clear favorite emerged or if he just ended up letting all of them go and starting over fresh. He says the latter, and that probably goes back to the fact that if you are spreading yourself around to 3 people, regardless of whether you are the only one in their life or not, you only have enough of yourself to really soak up about a third of any one person. Or maybe if you are dating someone extraordinary amongst the 3, that one will shine through regardless, and eventually you will pick that one person. I don't know. I can't say because I've never dated 3 people consistently at once.

I ask the French Guy what drew him to my profile. He thinks for a moment, and he says, "Well, you had a lovely smile, and you just seemed cool." I laugh and say, "Really? In what way did I seem 'cool'?" He says, "I don't know. Just something in the way you would respond back in the emails. You seemed like a real person. What drew you to my profile?" I say, "Hmm...I thought it was cool that you were a pilot, and I thought it was neat that you were from France. I was excited to talk about France with you." And the utmost truth is that it has been fun to talk a lot about France this evening. Paris is somewhere I would like to go back to visit or maybe even live in someday. Of course, I know I would need to expand my French vocabulary beyond the five phrases I currently know, but it just seems like a phenomenal city and along with London, Rome, Barcelona, Sydney, San Francisco, and Hawaii might someday be in my future and be comparable to my palette with that of NYC. The future is wide open and there for the taking and the pure pleasurable enjoyment even if I'm only American and not French.

Once we finish our drinks, it is time for me to retire back to the Financial District for the evening. We leave the bar, and the French Guy offers me his arm as we stroll back to his car. On the way home, I'm trying to work out what it is I feel for the French Guy. I have had such a lovely time with him. I would spend more time with him. He told me earlier in the night that he actually enjoys the company of women in friendship over men, and he has tons of platonic lady friends. I would definitely sign up for this category if he offers me a spot, but this whole night has been so romantical, and I'm not sure what he is thinking. And maybe in the end, I'm already in too deep with my feelings as far as the Brit goes. It was so trippy running into him. I had once joked that maybe he could reemerge and be my 50th first date, and it could be symbolic of us making this fresh start without all the complications of the other men, and in a way maybe he truly was my 50th date by the water with the ice cream, and the French Guy is 51, but for all intents and purposes we'll keep the numbers as is. The French Guy drops me on the corner near my apartment, and we hug goodbye. I say, "How do they do in France? A kiss on each side?" He says yes, and I lean to the left and kiss with the exaggerated "muahh" sound and lean to the right and do the same. I say merci bo cu to the French Guy for a wonderful night, and we bid au revoir.

When I get home I check my phone, and there's a text from the Cuban. The dialogue goes like this:

Cuban: I'm watching Serendipity. I wanna go back there. Such good desserts.
Me: Payday is Friday. Let's go. My treat.
Cuban: A couple of weeks from now would be better. I'm watching my diet for my beach bod.
Me: Hah! Ok. I won't interfere with your bsb (beach sexy body), but would you like to have dinner with me? Seriously it's your last chance to make a cameo in my blog, and it'd be a heck of a lot of fun to hang out. Your pick, my treat.
Cuban: Maybe we could go for sushi. We both like that, and that's light for a restaurant meal.
Me: Cool. Send me the details whenever.

It's so weird how the Brit and the Cuban always show up on the same day. My psychic bond powers must be in overdrive as I wind this down. In any event, I have a lot to think about this next week, and I have to figure out what I really want and where I'm going in life beyond 50 first dates in NYC and off the written page. Stay tuned for my final conclusions on things to be posted within the week!!

Southstreet Seaport Museum: http://www.seany.org/
JP Mustard: http://newyork.metromix.com/restaurants/sandwiches/j-p-mustard-financial-district/58138/content
Gascogne: http://www.gascognenyc.com/
Westside Tavern: http://www.westsidetavern.com/