|I felt pretty classy having the alias of “the girl in the red dress”–by springleaves via Flickr|
It had such a romantic New York start. It was my birthday dinner, so I was all dolled up in a stellar red dress reminiscent of those worn by Joan from Mad Men. My friends were insistent that one of the servers was checking me out from across the way. Sure enough, there was some heavy-duty eye contact between us as I made my way out of the restaurant. My good friend (the Stanford Blatch to my Carrie Bradshaw, if you will) made a suggestion: “You should give him your number. In fact…” and with that, he was off. Just as we were leaving, he slipped the waiter a small note that read “girl in the red dress” along with my phone number. I know, I know. I’ve got a great Stanford.
The next evening, he left me a voice mail around 9 p.m. This guy was racking up points; a perfect amount of time had elapsed. He didn’t let a full day pass, yet he had no deterring strong sense of urgency. Plus, it was a voicemail! A phone call! Unfortunately, that’s quite a grand gesture these days.
“Hey, girl in the red dress. Just calling to see what you’re about.” He sounded super sexy.
I called him back. No answer. I left my own attempt at a sexy-sounding, nonchalant voicemail. I apparently succeeded – we then played phone tag for the next two days until we became too anxious and succumbed to texting. Via text, we discovered that we lived pretty close to each other in Astoria. We made brunch plans to meet that Sunday.
|Conveniently enough, it turned out he lived closeby in Astoria. -by Global Jet via Flickr|
We met at Fatty’s. Never been? Go. Fatty’s is a favorite amongst fellow Astorians with every right to be. Delicious. We went with the intention of sitting outside but alas, the patio was closed. My plan was to stick with water (I had gone out for my birthday the night before, and you know how that goes) but, alas, the server mentioned a pineapple mimosa. I drank two.
He was cute and conversation flowed easily enough, yet I was never entirely sure when he was joking and when he wasn’t. This was strike one for me. A similar sense of humor is my number one. I’m not the type to sit down and list the desired traits of my dream man, but I think it’s important to know what I’m looking for. I also think if I was to sit down and concoct that list I’m pretty sure I would come up with somebody similar to the fictional character Ray from GIRLS.
After brunch, we walked around Astoria Park for a bit until he suggested that I see his apartment. His main sells were that he had a great view and that his roommate looked like Prince. I love Prince. I also LOVE seeing New York City apartments. It’s always so fascinating to see the different set-ups, styles, and how other people build their lives here. This is not an easy city to live in, at least in my opinion. The act of grocery shopping alone usually takes an entire day.
|His roommate did indeed look exactly like Prince.–via Wikipedia|
Upon arrival, I went right to his DVD collection. Collections of any kind are very telling and again, I was confused about whether the amount of Kate Hudson/Matthew McConaughey rom-coms he had was a joke or not. It must have been, right? Right?!
Then, there was sort of a deal breaker: he had an air mattress. I get it. I used an air mattress for many a month, years ago when I was 18 and subletting in Washington Heights and that hallway on the Upper East Side. I wasn’t 27 and settled in a place complete with a view of Astoria Park and a Prince look-a-like, though. I wasn’t a grown-up.
Accusing myself of being petty, I took a seat on the mattress o’ air. He sat close, but was a gentleman. Nothing too forward, but when he moved, I moved. And just like that, I remembered the discomfort of an air mattress versus a solid bed. I know, getting a bed is a difficult, daunting task – especially in this city – but if I was able to do it, this guy can do it.
|Only suitable scenarios for an air mattress: temporary arrangements and camping–via Wikipedia|
Then, he offered to walk me home, which I accepted. Once we reached our destination, he went in for a kiss, which I also accepted. After we said our goodbyes and parted ways, I got back to my apartment and assessed if I wanted to see him again. I decided that I’d better not.
It wasn’t just the mattress thing – there wasn’t any fire between us, or any magic moments shared. Cliché as that may be, I know what it’s like when you just can’t wait to see somebody again. I wasn’t feeling it.
And above all, he has financially endorsed Fool’s Gold by purchasing it on DVD, which I think might have been the real deal breaker here.
|The real deal breaker–via Wikipedia|