Date or Die: I don't know you that well now please help me with my bra

I went on a second date this past Saturday. Though not very into the woman, I thought it was pretty important to not leave this world never seeing a redhead naked. We had a fairly successful conversation though I found her indecisiveness about her academic pursuits somewhat annoying.

We stepped out to find a bar for a nightcap. The January air whipped us in the face so fast that we ducked into the first bar we could find, not the bar I was suggesting and one that turned out to be very overcrowded. Not wanting to stay, I suggested we return to her apartment. She stared at me, somewhat shocked about my directness. In the cab she jumped me. On the elevator going up to her apartment she suddenly hesitated admitting she was unsure given that she had to this point spent 3 hours with me. 15 minutes later I was helping her out of her clothes. 1 hour later she again discussed her hesitancy though by that time the point was moot. 2 minutes later I mocked her faux-indecisiveness. 5 minutes later she helped me find my socks after suggesting I leave. 10 minutes after that, as I walked to the subway, she phoned me and asked if I wanted to come back up. 45 minutes later, I was home, alone and reasonably happy to be going to sleep before 2am.

The redhead thing turned out to be a minor disappointment overall. Just in case, anyone out there was as intrigued as I was on the topic.

My Brain Just Turned To Mush

Julia Allison gives digital dating advice on MTV's It's On with Alexa Chung! from Julia Allison on Vimeo.

Date or Die - The Complete and Utter lack of Self Loathing

As we all know, Evil hates white people. However, he LOVES making me feel bad about my supposed "impending whiteness". He is always shooting comments my way like "that's how white people act" with minimal prodding. It could be anything - I buy a neat retro train set for my godson – such an act is met with "why are you trying to make this kid white?" I have a party of some sort - "You don't seem to have many Latino friends." I go on a date with anyone - "Why do you hate your people? Is it because you hate yourself?" As you can imagine it’s all very annoying.

Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure it’s just a numbers game. If I lived in LA, all my friends would be Latinos. They might also be heroin addicts or possibly hipsters but they would more than likely be brown. Still, I digress…
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So I joined some online dating site and I decided this was a great opportunity to target Latinas. Awesome! Two dates in a week; here is a short recap

Target 1:
Someone who looked great on paper –well educated, fun pictures and agreeably spunky – in reality she was something else.

We met at a wine bar which turned out to be overly loud. She was glad to be there but as someone doing some contracting work (she was laid off a year ago) you would think she could show up with a little more enthusiasm. Her energy level was something like negative 3. I can’t deduct a full five points, because she was a good enough sport to take a short walk and we went somewhere for dinner. My food was fine but not great. She was very stuck up and more than a little self involved – the sort of thing an HBS degree and a top tier consulting experience would do to you. I was not that impressed – I like people who take themselves less seriously. Who ever met a serious, stuck up and mildly depressed brazilian? I mean really? I should have figured this would be the case when I saw what she had to say about her ethnicity and how she was from Brazil but white. That’s like code for “I think I’m better than you”. On the positive side (I guess) she had amazing gas -as in she burped a lot, weird. Overall we had a decent time though, her apartment looked awesome. As we parted ways, she mentioned she was going to India for work for a few weeks. I said ok and suspected I would never hear from her again.

Target 2:
My second date was MUCH better. Based on her match handle I guessed her first name and then we discussed where in Ecuador she was from. I sold her on watching the wire, finally we agreed to meet. My dumb ass, because I learn no lessons picked another LOUD BAR. She showed up 1 drink in, we chatted at length but the whole thing felt like the opening round of a boxing match. I had not eaten so we went to a nearby tapas bar and picked at some octopus while we goofed on the racism of Ecuadorian, nailed down whether I was first or second generation (the nature of the debate has to do with the fact that my grandparents also immigrating at the same time as my mother, oh who cares) and a rather long involved conversation about internet privacy and how “safe’ mach.com is. She’s cool, impressive even and somewhat cute. She over used the word analytical, as if to prove to me that that there was logic and reason to being lawyer (yes. I know). She also made a few comments about lawyers, as if finding an opening for goofing on lawyer. I don’t have a problem with lawyers. She’s totally lovely but was having extreme contact lens issues to the point where I asked if she was a little drunk – as in “why are you bulging your eyes at me, are you a little drunk?” I think I battled back from that low. I think we got to the in principle agreement to do something again and soon. She gave me her last name (not an automatic, given her extreme concern about privacy and safety and being googled).

This morning, ET #2 and I googled her *ss as I plotted my next move. The summer of xTian rolls on! I've been on two dates in a week! This is a testament to the progress I am making as a person. F you Evil!

Date or Die: Things on the Internet I Would Rather Re-Watch than Go on Second Date WIth You

And we're back. You know its a bad date when I am making a joke about evangelicals (the born agains, y'all), she stops you and clarifies she is also born again and ...wait for it...you don't slow or stop your storytelling at all. How excited can one get about an evangelical who shows up and orders a plate of cheese. As she bored me to tears, I thought back to a list of things I have been entertained by recently.
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This guy wins the award for the best sign at these healthcare rallies

Someone gave Michael Moore financing for a new film. This time he takes his fat guy with a bull horn schtick to Wall St. Ummm....hooray? Maybe not

There are basically two people in the world who are glad Brett Favre is back (again) - Chris Berman (the asshole on ESPN who can't stop coming up with very stupid catchphrases) and John Madden, who probably redirected his stupid bus to Minnesota as soon as he heard the news. No one has told the old codger that he's done and no one cares about his RV or crazy turducken genetic splicing experiments. I'm just glad that former Favre fluffer and current SI writer, Peter King finally got off the bus.

I really like this song.

This Rick Pitino story is a little tawdry. I'm talking about the table top in the restaurant part of course. It's a good thing he has classy friends like these to stick up for him. Of course, his friends have problems of their own.

Is it really that hard to figure out if someone is a man or woman?

Next date is Tuesday. Maybe I have something to actually say about that one.

Date or Die: Catharsis

When you told me that you just weren’t “emotionally available for a relationship right now” I had two completely independent reactions

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• In your head, that’s not why you broke up with me. In your head, you just realized that I was no where near as big a d*ck as you initially thought. This makes me less attractive. So basically you just don’t like me. That’s cool. Just say so. I would at least respect your honesty. I don’t like you much either
• You are totally right you are completely and utterly emotionally unavailable. Tragically, it’s the most attractive thing about you

So you are lying to yourself and simultaneously telling me something completely true. That’s amazing. It’s really sad that you are completely unaware that this admission was the most interesting thing about you.

Still. Grow a pair. Tell me what you really think. I'll go first. Here is a list of flaws you have that I would like to go over in the order in which they annoyed me:

1. You are always bored. I can confirm this statistically using the interweb and your various status updates. I got news for you: Usually if a person is bored more than 10% of the time it’s a problem with them. Get a hobby, read a book
2. You don’t give BJ. Who doesn’t do BJ? Maybe if you did, you would be less bored. I hear its a great hobby
   
3. These lines actually worked on you and that’s just embarrassing - “I have no interest in being your friend” and “Let’s go back to your place and play Nintendo Wii”. All excitement is washed away if that’s all I have to do before ripping your clothes off. That’s completely random
4. We seem completely unable to have a conversation. It took me about 3 weeks to notice this. Everyone knows I give good talk…so I am going to lay that one totally on you

Have a nice life. You're a perfectly fine person. I just needed to be a total d*ck today. Thanks

Date or Die: The Every Down Back

In football, there are usually two extremes for the running back position. On one side you have a power running back, sometimes referred to an every down back. This guy tends to be bigger than other running backs and basically always gets 3-4 yards. He wearing down his opponent and eventually being able to make a bigger play. On the other extreme, there are these “change of pace” backs, sometimes considered a scat back; he is usually quicker and smaller than the back on the other extreme. He can basically get by people with his speed and break bigger plays. Unfortunately, he tends to take less punishment. Teams occasionally try to have complimentary guys on their team to keep defenses guessing. The every down back might need a breather so the change of pace back comes in and blows by some tired defenders.
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I have always considered myself a power back, able to carry a big load, take the hits and keep coming, eventually wearing some poor woman down. In this analogy my left handed draper is essentially a good stiff arm.

Umm…We are in danger of over-extending this metaphor so I am just going to move on to my point. Sunday, I went on a 6 hour brunch date. This was not my plan so I was not ready. I did not even have my pads on (ok I’ll stop). Normally, brunch is easy. You sit down, you reference the NY Times, eat some eggs, discuss David Gregory vs. George Stephanopolus and you stick your tongue down her mouth. Easy peasy.

Not in this case, this girl makes everything hard. Our first date was like a month ago. We went for drinks at the Modern. She got loaded and I was in the middle of experimenting with sobriety so I got to watch. Which is fun, watching is fun, watching is so fun that I needed to go home and hide and sulk. Meanwhile, before I could regroup she ran off to LA for what was like 2 weeks. Conflicting schedules and a busy workload on both our parts left us trying to have brunch this past Sunday. Normally, I would categorize a second date brunch as a bad sign and usually not worth my time. Only problem is, we kept emailing while she was with her family in LA. Truth is, I went from thinking she was ok to ‘desperately wanting to hold her hand’. I put it in quotes because I actually told this to catjjy using these exact words without realizing it till after I said it.

So I was cautious but hopeful. I was reassured when she phoned me. She was pumped but lost. I gave her some directions. She laughed heartily. As soon as she met me she mentioned to me that she usually enjoyed going to a very specific bar on Sunday afternoons, she thought it would be fun if after brunch we walk from Chelsea to Tribeca and get a few drinks there. She chided me for doing work while I waited for her. Suddenly I was emboldened. Brunch was awesome.

During our walk, she goofed on me endlessly. I had met her at the birthday party for a 1 year old and I admitted that I was friends with the child’s mother from university. I also admitted always found her husband a bit awkward and rejected his overtures of friendship a few years earlier

“Another bromance done in by mild homophobia” she smirked for a solid two blocks. The cheery mood was broken the second I admitted that the west village was hard for me to navigate and I was no longer convinced we were moving south.

Our conversation had to this point been sort of perfect, rapid fire, casual, snappy. It was like something out of Gilmore Girls. We were two hours in, and though still going strong, I noticed I was low on material. Remember, it was supposed to be David Gregory to *ssplay in four easy steps. Unfortunately, the sun was still out (stupid brunch) and I just was not sure the kids playing in the park we cut through needed to see a poorly executed draper. Screw that, I’m an every down running back! I can make this happen.

Once we got to the bar, I was happy about it. The music was cool, and the DJ was fly. The windows were open. There was an off beat crowd, a few hipsters trying to hard, and a couple of brothers chilling in the corner. Just my scene…it reminded me of a post millennial BBQ in Brooklyn.

The better news was that she was actually a regular at this bar. The bartender was getting us drinks and very attentive even as models had to stand around waiting for someone to take their orders. She even knew a few other regulars, not well enough for them to matter but well enough to be part of a conversation. It came out that one was a hip hop photographer. I found myself in a rather involved conversation on mid 90s hip hop where we discussed the merits of the Luniz and took opposing positions on which was the better Pharcyde album (for the record I enjoyed Labcabincalifornia and our new friend took Bizarre ride to the…) . I was convinced this would impress anyone of color from LA. This also gave me what I needed most, more material as I tried to make it to the end.

By this point, I was full on drunk. While I was not paying attention some dude tried to make a play at my date. Who did this erkle looking motherf*cker think he was? Offended, I took the opportunity to dress him down. For those of you who don’t know, I grew up in the Black section of a predominately Hispanic community. I know how to make fun of people. Further, I know how to goad others into piling on. Before I knew it, there was 3-4 cats were hurling mocking comments at this dude. Hey, there’s my offensive line. It got so bad I bought him a drink. I am magnanimous in victory. I had officially run out of stuff to talk about, I knew when she brought up “The Real Housewives of New York City” Not knowing what to do I tracked down Erkle and encouraged him to go hit on a model across the way. A desperate move no doubt, but hilarious and worth an addition ten minutes of laughter, she had a surprising mean streak, awesome. Stil, this had turned from awesome chippy conversation bliss of earlier in the day to some bizarre multi-ethnic transgender Mean Girls. I needed to get out of here before things got worse.

I had planted a seed early that I needed to go home and do work. I even had a laptop with me. She agreed it was a good idea to part ways. She reassured me with a smile and promised a Thursday dinner. Progress, slow deliberate progress but progress. No touchdowns, just racking up a lot yards.

Manolo Goes On A Date (aka Original Date or Die)

(Author's Note: Unlike some people at the Hose, Manolo has a real life so he was never seriously emotionally wounded when he was unceremoniously dumped from The Hose...At the same time, Manolo never left. He comes back to check upon The Hose every 4-6 months to see how this gang of misfits is holding up...For example, I have noticed that xTian and Evil have taken my original date concept and run with it. Kudos to them...In fact, I hope they never go through some of my worst moments and refuse to pay medical bills...In their honor, I tell the following tale of woe...)
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My name is Manolo and I have a disease. I am too picky when it comes to women…I seem to be looking for perfection in a world where imperfections are what makes us unique. These imperfections (real or made-up) are used by me as nothing but as a shield not to get close to somebody. Every time I met a new woman, I would ask myself if she was girlfriend/wifey material…If she was not, I would use these imperfections as reasons to abandon the possibilities of what may have been and focus more on short-term satisfaction of physiological needs…Don’t get me wrong, guilt-free no-strings-attached sex is great but like every man before me, I have a hunger for something more…I have arrived at that point in life where one longs to be one with somebody for more than a couple of hours (who am I kidding? I meant minutes…but best 4 minutes of your life…wink!)…

Therefore, I am trying to be a little less picky…a bit more open minded. I am trying hard about overlooking imperfections and giving everyone a chance…

Two weekends ago, I went out to paint the town (color didn’t really matter) with some friends...We are at this trendy lounge when this young woman walks by and catches my eye…what was not to like…tall (5’9’’), slim, red hair, blue eyes, smooth porcelain-like skin…

We seemed to really hit it off. In fact, we spent close to 5 hours together (last 2-3 hours walking down the beach). At the end of the night, we exchanged phone numbers and we went our separate ways, but not before agreeing to meeting once again.

As I was driving home, I kept going back to two things that were holding me back….One of them was her accent. Don’t get me wrong, I like accents. I think they are sexy, especially in the throes of passion. In fact, I am such a believer in accents that I went out and got one of my own. Nevertheless, her Russian accent meant that I found myself at times asking her what she had just said. The other thing was that she has a small mole around her lip…I then told myself if Cindy Crawford has it, why not her? I noticed I was falling into my old patterns so I decided then and there to give her a chance…

I spoke to her a couple of times on the phone and after finding out that she loves the beach, we agreed to go to the beach for our first date. I pick her up and as we are driving to our destination, she starts talking about Halloween and how she needs to buy a costume…I don’t know why she is looking for a costume since the outfit she has already makes her look like a Russian sailor (white short shorts, blue and white striped shirt, hat, sunglasses, pig tails). I think she looks very sexy but afraid of how the comment may be construed, I keep it to myself. Taking a cue to be spontaneous, we drive to a Halloween store I passed by on the way to her house to try on some costumes…Some of them were too hot to handle on a first date but I did not care…if she did not like seeing me in a Hooters outfit, perhaps she shouldn’t have looked…

Anyway, we finally arrive at the beach where I proceed to impress her by breaking out the blanket, a bottle of champagne and a full spread of cheeses and fruits…We sit there talking watching the waves crashing upon another…we start feeding each other and at one point, I drop an apple into the chocolate. I pull the apple out but my finger is drenched in chocolate…she laughs, jumps towards me and cleans my finger dry…I didn’t need another hint…I put a drop of chocolate on her cheek and I clean it…she then puts some chocolate on the tip of my nose and she cleans it…I put some chocolate on her lips….

All of a sudden, we are rolling on the blanket squishing the occasional strawberry or grape as we jockey for an ideal kissing position…From time to time, I put some chocolate on her neck or shoulders or thighs and kiss it away…I put some on her stomach and then….

I see it…I had felt something but I thought it may have been the shorts or the shirt…No, it’s not what you think…you see, my Russian sailor has an outie…I have only seen outies in the belies of malnourished third world children so imagine my surprise…

You would think that if you ever ran into one, you could just gnaw on it…maybe even treat it as a kind of a third nipple…

I guess I am not a better man after all...Back to the drawing board...

Date or Die: xTian vs. Jesus

It's finally happened. My interests and those of my lord are savior Jesus Christ are no longer aligned. Two ships in the night. Peace brother, I love you.

I am too good at what I do. Standing on the street at a little before 1am in a warm sweat, I thought to myself
"This sort of thing just does not happen to me"

It really doesn't. I don't get this far and don't get to close the deal. I am really good at what I do. This doesn't happen to me...unless of course I am getting c*ckbl*ck*ed by a higher power. Thus the start of my feud with the Lord.

I am cranking on all cylinders with this girl. In fact, a few hours earlier, in the middle of our second date, she accused me of being disingenuous, because I seemed to say everything she wanted to hear just when she wanted to hear. It was so perfect. She did not believe. My reaction, outright laughter, was my first misstep in two dates. But even a misstep, so well timed, that it came exactly when she needed, even this she found fishy. I hate being challenged. However, I grinned and bore it. I did not lose my cool. There are far worse crimes than saying the right thing.

When I kissed her on the street she was into it, and slightly lost herself. Only regaining composure when the hem of her skirt found its way north of her bottom. We were standing in the street, desolate as it was.

I went back in, the gentle chastising leaving me unsure what to do with my hands. She laughed at this. The humor was not lost on me. Smiling, I hailed a taxi.

Outside her apartment we were still acting school aged. Heading towards the elevator I nearly knocked over a woman exiting with her bicycle.

At her door, she thanked me for a lovely evening. I laughed again as I drifted in.

She got more assertive but in an affectionate way. Since I had met her she made it clear that she was a good girl. Laughing, I moved towards the door. She held firm.

As I left I invited her out the following evening. She reminded me of some commitment and I realized her faith was something she took seriously.

xTian vs. Jesus, it was bound to happen.

Date or Die: More than enough Spirituality

I was soaking wet. She laughed because I did not have an umbrella. She had gone so far as to email me on Friday suggesting I bring an umbrella. She was still laughing. I mumbled something silly. She could not hear it over the rain. I repeated

"It was sunny when I left home. The optimist in me refused to believe that it would rain. I hate carrying an umbrella in the sun. It's like you are hoping for the worst"

"what?"

It was a lie of course. Who thinks something like that? I just forgot it. But this answer made for a much better story. I have a gift for small lies. Its part of my charm.

We started with brunch. She thought the time was too short so she invited me to the New Museum with her to continue our conversation. It was, of course, preposterous and I love modern art.

She was daring me to venture in the rain. At the street corner, after her small laugh, she handed me her umbrella and asked me to hold it for her as we walked down the street. She listed a series of errands to run where we could keep getting to know each.

At Bloomingdale's, I surprised her with my sense of personal style. Not wanting her to think me gay I kissed her on a couch at Crate & Barrell after I picked out a gift for her friend.

As we parted ways, I said "Next time, we'll do this at night."

"Do what?"

"Go on a date"

"oh...you sure about that."

"I'd bet money. Tell you what, I'll pick the day, you pick the place. I'm assertive but flexible."

"Deal"

She laughed at least till the elevator door closed.

Date or Die: You gotta have faith, faith, faith

I went on a date on Monday. I met her at Delancy Bar. We had a long and winding conversation as we knocked back several jack and diet cokes.

I learned that her mother died and it affected her sister deeply
She is bad at dating but was having fun
I learned that there are three assistant directors on movies, First assistant, second assistant and second second assistant. They all have completely different jobs and no one is referred to as third assistant

I won't lie. I stared at her rack a lot. It was huge, and distracting. So distracting that I thought to myself I would find them distracting if I were to sleep with her. I then, in my head compared big boobs to popcorn. You order it hoping to fill yourself up but in the end you are left unsatisfied and with dirty hands. I liked that analogy. I am probably very alone in this.

Overall, we were having a good conversation. She admitted she had never spoken to anyone so freely and then asked me what my last name was so she could have some deeper sense of who she was speaking to I suppose.

I was having fun too. I won't lie, I thought she was something slightly less than pretty but there was a charm to her that grew on me as time went on.

She randomly blurted out that she grew up reading comic books but now only sneaks reads while window shopping in comic book shops. I had this vague notion that I had stumbled onto a kindred spirit. I wondered, cautiously, where this was all going.

We walked to a vegan restaurant to eat. We were still having fun. Munching on a black bean empanada, she asked me about my faith.

"I'm catholic" as if that were a necessary and sufficient answer. She pressed me a bit further.

I admitted that I had never been asked about my faith, by anyone so I did not have a well structured answer. I also admitted that I went to catholic school from K-8th grade. I pointed out that I am thoroughly Catholic in two very important ways (1) I derive the bulk of my morality from Catholicism (2) I feel guilt about most everything. I left out the third but most catholic thing about me - I let my guilt build to the point where I will actually go to Church for an extended period of weeks just to feel better about myself and alleviate my bone crushing guilt. I mentioned that Catholicism is neat because there is a scholarly element to it. I mentioned that if I were not Catholic I would be Baptist and attend a Black Church because that's really fun and uplifting. I goofed on Mormons, because...well...you know... I railed against people like Joel Orsteen, and how uninformed they are...and how his wife is out of control.

I stumbled a bit here and asked her if she was born again.

She nodded, slowly.

I mumbled the word "landminds" under my breathe and shifted gears by asking her to compose her favorite playlist ever right then and there...smooth.

The rest of our conversation was pleasant...but that was that...

Ever the gentleman, I walked her to her building.

"I very much enjoyed this. I'm really disappointed right now. You just aren't spiritual enough for me"

As I walked away, I was somewhere between infuriated and amused. Judging my spirituality is preposterous.


Check out this scene from the best show on TV, Madmen

Date or Die: Sweltering in the heat

Summertime in NYC sucks for several reasons. It smells odd everywhere, due to the trash. Dudes are over the place, crawling around, sweating on each other.

On the plus side, women look extra hot. They wear less, and on average women in NYC are better dressers than elsewhere so they know how to parlay this into more attention. Then of course, the same thing that makes me a sweaty mess is a huge advantage to women, who sweat less and usually just glisten. Sparks has a great phrase for this, "swamp glow". Give me an underdressed chick walking about in the summer with her hair up and a nice layer of swamp glow any day...I love it...

Last night, I met someone for dinner. We met at Bar Pitti. I was very early
as an errand I decided to run before hand took 45 minutes less than I alloted. I walked into the bar next to Fat Black PussyCat to kill time and cool off. I was already sweating. I spent the time drinking Blue Moons (sans orange wedge...disappointing) and chatting up the underweight but attractive waitress who was at the very least glowy...She told me her mom drinks Blue Moon, I asked her how old she was. She walked away. Classic

When finally she arrived, I was floored by her height. With heels we were eye level. Crazy. That never happens. I had long ago resigned myself to the idea that the perfect woman height for me is about 5ft 7in with heels. At that height, she can dip her head slightly and fit it under my chin which is aimed partially skyward. Standing here on sixth avenue, I wondered if it was time to rethink this. Eye level is good, great even...

When we realized the wait was 30+ minutes we decided to walk up the ways a bit to a tapas place I knew. Evil swiped this place from me 2 years ago then started badmouthing it, calling it "over" what an ahole.

Walking up the way, I kept staring at the women all around me, they were having fun in their tiny sun dresses, laughing and having a good time. This is why you do this. This is why you put up with the mugginess, the people, the smell, just to enjoy the view - the beauty of Youth, in full effect.

If this post is unfocused, its because my evening was unfocused. In addition to the distraction, I was drunk. I pounded those beers hard and followed it with quite a bit of sangria. The tapas were great. The company was great. I was not allowed to do what I normally do, which is nod and smile as the woman across the way from me pours out her hopes and fears my way. I actually had to engage. I had to tell strange stories from my past. Be honest about my hopes and fear. I got to debate Raggaeton, with me taking the position it was nonsense and she taking the position that the beat was great for dancing, even though I could imagine her dancing her around like Elaine Benes. I got to walk in the late night air.

Man, I love the summer

Girl alert for Evil

Evil,

Please be advised that an attractive, young-ish, Asian, tennis phenom who almost certainly has big calves, is throwing a wrench in Wimbledon. She is a Chinese national, which would make your mother very happy. She is rich, at least for her age, having picked up nearly $2 million prior to this event. And she will probably be in New York later this summer for the US Open. I have not seen close-ups of her teeth, but in all other respects, she seems perfect for you (i.e., exceedingly out of what ought to be your league). I suggest you pursue her with vigor, at least once you are down to your ideal weight of 168.5 lbs.

Trading in My Ethnic Identity for a Soggy Subway sandwhich

As I was describing this to Buck, he started pulling up Facebook.

"what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to figure out what chick you are doing this nonsense for. She's got to be hot"

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"You're stupid...you're brown. You're probably the only brown guy there."

"No, not at all...The guy who was teaching it is like Algerian or something. Although apparently, he's a professional dancer"

Buck was half right. Apparently, its Ball Season, and I'm going to be busting a move in a ball in tuxedo whites (which means tails and gloves...I just learned that!). Ostensibly, our good friend Le Troisième, put me on to this, but only with promise of bangable chicks.

I arrived promptly, at 18:45 in a sharp suit. I felt clean. It makes me feel good. Now Le Troisième had mentioned to me that he was very interested in a certain lady and showed me her on facebook to prove her worth and described her as a representative sample of the sort of women there. Many of the women there were admittedly good looking. The guys, a bit schleppy. Me in a schleppy crowd, more points for me. I'm also not in a majority at all. There's a Colombian looking chick off to the side, but given where we were I had mis-categorized her as Persian, which I would have looked upon as a plus...because I hate myself and my people.

Without much effort I was paired with Le Troisième's dream girl. She was a good height to pair with me anyway. This bodes well. My friend, a man of refined tastes, sold the girl short. She was amazing looking. I was eager to see him do well and perfectly willing to enable this. I lie. I have no interest in such a thing at all.

She asked me who invited me to participate (its a big word of mouth thing). I mentioned Le Troisième by name.

"oh, I met him last week. He's very nice"

We were mid dance but I heard her just fine. I thought quickly about how to stick myself into this mix...

"Did you say [Le Troisième] is funny?"

"No I said NICE"

"Oh, Agreed! He's very nice. But he's not at all funny"

She smiled. It was a nervous but intrigued smile. Or so my warped mind convinced me.

Extra Points: I ran into a guy I had a met a few times before. I was at a party and he had come accompanying a woman I knew. At some point she dragged me into a restroom so we could have a one sided argument, she argued I watched her pee, no money changed hands. He stood outside the door, knocking...like a chump. He acted as though he did not know me till I shouted something he would remember vaguely. I asked after our shared friend and he mumbled something about a "falling out"...he quickly introduced me to some other guy and hurried away. I love doing sh*t like that to people.

Date AND Die

Anyone remember this? Well rest assured, that nonsense is long over. xTian is back in full effect. Here's how it went down

I'm at brunch yesterday with some family and I get a call. I take it.

"hey"
"Oh hey, what's up"
"remember when you made that joke one morning about all my male friends being in love with me?"
"sure"
"well, you were right. is totally in love with me"
"interesting"
"He told me Wednesday and we had a long talk about it last night. This is only interesting because I have had intense feelings for him..."

At this point I tune her out and step away from the table so my aunt cannot press me on why I am flush white. I step out side into the second proper autumn day of the year. The nip in the air warming the cold streak that just ran down my back.

"interesting"
"I wanted you to know"
"apparently interesting is what I say when I have no idea what the f*ck else to say."
"right...I really like you I want to be friends"
"right, we should go for coffee next week and...wow...that was going to end very harshly"
"that's ok. I'm sure you will at some point want to say something and you should feel free to call me and do that"
"Sure...I'll call you tomorrow"

I delete her phone number the second I am off the phone. I make smoke with the cold air and my breathe. i stick my hands in my pockets and hang out with my family for the next 10 hours and about 10 minutes in I realize nothing is wrong and I'm completely fine. Just eight hours earlier, around 3am, I was walking through washington square park with Sparkes telling him about her positive attributes but not being terribly convincing at least not to me. Ah well....

Having said all that...Date or Die is back on! Watch out! I'm just getting started....

Date or Die is Dead: ET2 and the BF

ET’s BF and I had a pretty intense conversation over email last week. We had both been invited to a party and I was interested in going so I sent him an email

Are you going to this?

Yes I think so…would you like to do something before?

Yes I would. I think we should.

Great.

I just spoke to ET2, she says you have dinner plans.

Yes, she just told me that too…it slipped my mind…want to come?

No…

In the end, the girl and I went to Tamarind, while ET2 and her BF went to Bolo right up the street…

I had already remarked to ET2 that I thought the BF was asking me out on a man date and apparently when she told this to BF he got very self conscious.

“I am totally going to come on to him when I see him Saturday I said”

I even told the girl, concerned that early in our situation she would see me rubbing up on a dude…”I am certain you are not gay” she replied…what a good sport.

At the party, the girl and I commiserated on a couch, tired from an already rough weekend…when they arrived. I gave the BF a big hug…he flinched slightly. Then I invited him to get a drink with me.

At the bar I rubbed his shoulder as I asked what happened to our dinner plans. His reply “We planned one thing and then something else happened” hinted at something that he might not have intended to hint at. When his change came back his hands were full with drinks. When I grabbed the change and endeavored to stuff it in his pocket. He jumped about a foot in the air…this was too easy…it was not fun.

I did run back and tell ET2 and the girl about my aggressive move…The girl’s laugh more nervous than ET2s…

Date Or Die: Over and Out?

I flinched right after I said it. For some reason, I reacted to saying it the same way I reacted to making fun of my mother's perm as a boy. Worth doing, but only if you duck for cover ASAP.

The words, though small, hung in the air. I sipped my drink, a stiff one mixed of and scotch and vermouth. I considered the glass for a second...plotting an escape that was not evident. There was no escape. I looked up.

She's smiling at me. I think when I stared at her, just 30 seconds prior, I said something to the effect of “I really like you…” which I attempted to redeem with “Is that ok to say?” and then the flinching started.

She enjoyed this awkwardness. Up to that second, I was in complete control, a man with a plan. On some level that was working for her, but on another it was not ringing fully true. xTian does have a kryptonite. It’s called honesty. (Long time readers should not be surprised) I’ll admit - I really loved that she’s enjoying it.

“I think its ok to say. Further, I’m down with that.” She says she’s “down with” things with a perfect cadence and without contracting any words. It’s quite charming. ”I like you to…in spite of…um…whatever”

Oh, no…it’s going off the rails. Self defeating nitwit that I am I press her. “In spite of what?”

“I really didn’t want to”

“Huh?”

“No, not like that. “ She’s playing with her mint julep. I really dig that she ordered straight bourbon with mint and sugar. “I just have so much going on I did not think I was in a place to meet someone new”

“oh…”

“But I really like you too…this is good”

Yes…yes it is…I’m now holding her hand. We’re an interesting sight, us in this dark bar... One question hangs in the air:

How do I keep from messing this up?

Date or Die: A Small Slip Up

Anyone remember the Manifesto? The dark path was clearly and obviously called out as engaging with women from the past.

Yet there I was, Sunday afternoon happily trudging down the dark path, whistling even. My self-defeat knows no boundaries...it mocks my lighter angels and sometimes get something in "both my eyes". She was crying, not quite sobbing, just crying. I held her a bit. She cleared her eyes quickly and said "that runner thinks you just broke my heart". Of course I had not, I was just a random passerby. This is not unlike when a when I used to make a habit of stopping and helping drunk girls vomiting on the street. Not knowing what to do I would stop say "Don't worry I'm not creepy" and calmly hold their hair back as they vomited.

This was of course different. I know her but had lost track of her long ago. She found me on facebook. I had been blowing her off for weeks. I thought nothing of it as she was clearly listed as "In a Relationship" nothing bad could happen but as Sparkes was quick to point out "nothing good could come of it either".

When we spoke on the phone there we were, she started banging on about insecurities then caught herself and stopped. I thought we would be safe. Brunch was fun but then she fell apart in the park facing the Hudson river and I didn't know what to do. So I hugged her and assured her it would all be alright. In my head, something clicked and I concluded..."not for her, she will never be all right..."

Date or Die: Death by a Million (electronic) Paper Cuts

On 8/22/07, APR wrote:

hi xTian,

i'm sorry, but i don't think we're a good fit. i think you're a great person, and i enjoyed spending time with you. i wish you all the best.

APR

ON 8/23, xTian wrote:

that's too bad. I really enjoyed our conversations.

Can I ask a small favor? if you see me on the street please feel comfortable enough to say hello. It will be non-awkward I promise

:-)

take care

xTian

But I lied, it will most assuredly be awkward...I may even stub her toe...or, more likely, lick her face and run away.

This however was not the coldest rejection I ever received over email. Note this from 2 years ago. from a girl I sort of messed around with once in a club and the emails we exchanged after that were initially about making a plan to hang out but ended like this...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know...I can't tell if you are insulting and complimenting me at the same time.

I feel the same way when we are together, which may be the reason why I am not too keen on the idea of us hanging out.

I am sorry. Can we just chalk it up to having conflicting personalities and leave it at that?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I keep these things....and think about them

Date Or Die: Midweek Update 2

SMS ruins everything...here is a unclear exchange with the Southern Belle

Her:I bought a copy of Theodore Rex last weekend. I'll let you know it goes once I finally get to it....
me: You realize its part2 to the Rise of...? I was going to phone you tonight. When do they let you out?
Her: I did not realize that. I'm out at 6 but I'm running over to double dinner appointments from there.
Me: Hmmmm two q. How does one attend 2 dinners at once? what are your weekend plans?
Her: One at 6:30 and one at 8. I wouldn't recommend it to everyone. Saturday working all day and dinner. Sunday - breakfast, lunch, movie, dinner...you?
Me: You are a tightly schedule person. I was thinking a rainy weekend would be optimal for some crosswording action.
Her: usually you would be correct. Ill see if any times get shifted around. Saturday may be earlier than I think. We haven'tgotten confirmation for end time for work on saturday
Me: I'll phone you later in teh week to inquire further. This texting business is generally an ungentlemanly way to extend invitations. I am only participating because I'm sure it beats the alternative. Where your alternative is paying attention in training and my alternative is paying attention to this conference call.
Her: duly noted :-)

I was really proud of myself this week. For the second week in a row I blew off someone who almost ruined my life 5 years ago, there by remaining consistent to my date or die manifesto (as described in the prologue).

Date or Die...Change or Die...its all the same here...

Date Or Die 2: The Wake

It's 9pm and I am way too happy to be at this wake consoling my cousin. Well, she's not my cousin. She's my mother's cousin...after a fashion. Let me explain

One of the most beautiful things about being Latin is the fluid definition of family. I occasionally struggle with this. I'm the first to admit it. I'm OK with that because I have further observed that white people just don't understand this at all. So this woman is not my cousin and might actually be my mother's second cousin once removed. But my grandmother and her mother grew up together (while not strictly sisters) in the same house and started the second half of their life together again in a different country. She's family...I know this because when I was small we had family gatherings and she was there. Her whole family was there, my family.

Still I'm doing a horrible job consoling her, I'm too perky. Further, when her mom died and my grandmother moved to Florida that familial connection loosed. Remember, I used the word "fluidity" and i meant it. Still, I got here in a pretty good mood and it has only got better over the course of the hour. Seeing these people I had not seen in 15 years made me think of happier, more innocent times. Soon I was joined by my uncles (who are in their 40s and more like big brothers...more fluidity) and their families and another cousin( who was actually a second cousin once...well you get the picture) and our grieving cousin told her dad's grieving widow how this was her Aunt Isabel's family and we were all family and she nodded with approval and made mention to the stories she heard from the old days...

This made me tingle a bit. Yes, I'm single and melancholy but I'm also part of something larger, a mythology I guess. It starts with bunch of guys in their sixties decided in the 1970s to show up in this country and try to build a better life for their huge and preposterously young families. Then these guys met a a fellow country man, a life long bachelor who passed for much younger than he was and how one of them introduced them to a daughter who had come to this country (as luck would have it) with a completely valid passport that was attained through a completely invalid process and how later a preposterously large baby was the first product of this union. My grandfather was one of these guys, and this fellow in the casket, he was there too...

Let's not focus on what a good guy I am. When my mom asked me to attend on her behalf I immediately balked. I was drunk after a concert and further had made plans for a date...how do I kill my date and attend this random event...It's saturday I'm trying to make a day of it but how do I start off in jeans then end up in a suit...what if I get lucky? Too many variables and I needed to simplify the situation...I committed to going on the date (to my mom...she hates me now) and if things went horribly awry I would make my way to Union City to the funeral home and pay respects. If things were going well, I reserved the right to bail. My mom reserved the right to use my grandmother's voice if need be. I was talking big but knew where this would end.

The date itself started ominously, I went to the wrong museum...a bad sign...clearly my argument with my mom had thrown me off. It got better and worse from there simultaneously. Neither of us were as into the art as we were in exploring each other's mindset. We discussed her oral fixation (she used to smoke) and how often she screened her dad's calls (something like 85% of the time). We discussed her sisters and how one of them dated a really bad actor who was apparently a super genuine guy. I mentioned half heartedly how my mom calls me every day and how I'm trying to ween her down to every other day. We got bored with the exhibit, except for the bit where we stood in a room with a mirror for the floor and the security guard pointed out to her that she was wearing a skirt and everyone (read: me) could see her panties. That was worth an awkward laugh.

We gave up on the post modern art and walked around central park and talked about the great restaurants we have eaten at (and failed to properly name half of them), theorized on the origin of the rollerskating rink that always seems to happen in the park and talked at some length about the people we have been with in the past...I suggested it might be a bit early for this conversation but she pointed out that we have probably gotten to know more about each other in two dates than she has in 5 or 6. I agreed and was aghast to see it was 6pm...crap I was on the verge of letting my grandmother down...I'm a jerk by design not by conscious act. She asked what was wrong and I admitted a confounding commitment and bit of family history. I thought this would be a strike against me in the grand scheme of things as she she had just spent all afternoon screening her dad. She apologized and admitted that when she is having a good time she could be a marathoner. I agreed that it was something we shared...just like diametrically opposed views on tapas was something we did not share. I further admitted that 5 hours is not a marathon per se...just a really good time...

I rushed home slapped on a suit and got lost all over Hudson county...

Later that night, we (family) sat there having a late dinner. We goofed on each other , shared some laughs and ate some great tapas. I was exhausted by my day but glad I was there...glad about all of it...I wondered how fluid it would be to insert my earlier date into this scene. We'll need to work on the tapas thing for sure...and we might need to make her wit a little more biting but all in all, I could see it happening...I guess...

P.S. - My grandfather turns 95 in November. I think in the run up to that, I may explore the Mythology a bit...stay tuned...