boys

I have a theory: dating in New York and dating in high school are exactly the same. 1. It’s really exciting when a boy has a car, and 2. you still have to watch out for hickeys.

(*ices neck*)

So, I did something super out of character and went to a club.

(I KNOW).

But here’s the twist: it was a Korean club, which means way, way fewer New Jersey bros, which vastly improves the club experience.

In fact, it was mainly a ton of really well-dressed, well-mannered, sophisticated as f*** gentleman. By gentlemen, I mean that NO ONE humped me from behind, but I did get lots of dancing, the aforementioned canoodling, and offers to buy drinks! (SERIOUSLY GUYS NEVER BUY ANYMORE, WHAT A TREAT). Oh, and if you decline the alcoholic ones, a gentleman will buy you water, because only plebian cads want to see you get sloppy.

(Pulp Fiction got it wrong by the way–the best thing to see when you come back from the bathroom is a cute guy in a suit holding a bottle of water he bought for you. I died and went to heaven for a second).

So let’s hear it for the boys, ladies! This one even drove me home at 5 in the morning and didn’t try to weasel his way into my house. What a great night, what a great guy–and a not so great bruise on my neck, but I’ll deal. Hi Patrick!

Now, compare that to the white dude who messaged me from OKCupid (Two notes on this: 1. Yes, I took y’alls advice and got on there, because I realized I’m never going to meet a nice single guy in a belly dance class, and 2. No, I don’t date white guys that often because I find them entitled, boring, and WAY too fond of a popped collar. Also, they all secretly like Dave Matthews. What’s up with that????)

Anyway, in this case, I decided to have an open mind and give it a chance. The guy seemed nice. We had a decent convo about performing (he’s a musician), and he suggested we meet up. It was almost harder to say no than yes. Why not?

We decided on Union Square for general location, because it’s equidistant to his uptown and my Brooklyn addresses. But funny enough, he didn’t seem to know where he wanted me to meet him. NBD, I would get there and text him, I figured, and we’d pick the place together.

But, the night before I lost my phone at the club (nooooooooooooo), so I had to email him asking for the location in advance.

“Ok, gotcha. Let’s meet in front of Whole Foods.”

satc

…

Chicka what?

I withheld judgment and instead went to my friends house to make scrambled eggs, talk about our previous night (she kissed a boy too, holla! WE NEVER DO THIS, SERIOUSLY), and get a second opinion. She was as sassy about the situation as I felt, which was encouraging. “That’s bullshit–he’s going to ask a lady to wait outside on the street for him? Get out of here with that.”

My thoughts exactly. So I politely wrote back, she peering over my shoulder with approval, “How about we meet inside somewhere?”

Gentle reader, you probably already see where this is going, but my jaw dropped.

“Oh, okay… meet me inside Whole Foods.”

…

INSIDE Whole Foods? Oh, okay, that makes all the difference. LOLOLOLOLOLOL.

You guys, this douche honestly thought I was going to schlep all the way into the city on a Saturday night to stand around in a grocery store waiting for him.

Shockingly, I declined. And then (not so shockingly) he insinuated that it was because I was materialistic. Oh PLEASE–I can buy my own drinks and dinner–the issue at hand is how crass and thoughtless it is to ask a first date to wait for you in a grocery store instead of somewhere comfortable and warm, such as a bar. Or hell, just anywhere with chairs, and no produce section.

I guess the moral of the story is, no more white boys. Seriously. Literally anything else will do.

Regale me: what’s the worst first date you’ve had? Or offer of a date?

This would have been my 3rd from OkC, and not even the most disastrous, next to The Guy Who Wouldn’t Talk About Anything But The Game of Thrones and Closeted Gay Guy.

Marginally related: the Korean club had poles and go-go dancers, which has now made me wonder if this could be my dream job. Just, up on a pole, surrounded by hot guys in suits. Yes. Please.

(Jokes aside, If you have ever go-goed, please email me about it or comment because I’m curious as to what it’s like).

XOXOXO and wishing you happy poling and dating!

Cathy

I legit feel like I just woke up from a coma.

So, for the past couple of months, I was sorta kinda a little bit falling on my ass for this guy I work with.

With a girlfriend.

I KNOW.

I’m not really the cheating type so it was mostly just talking, a lot, but that didn’t really stop me from being a big dumb idiot with 3 kinds of obsessive thoughts, on a loop:

1. “OMG HE’S SO GREAT.”

2. “OMG THIS IS SO BAD.”

3. “OMG LET ME LISTEN TO MY IPOD AND DAYDREAM ALTERNATELY ABOUT HOW GREAT HE IS AND HOW BAD I FEEL ABOUT MYSELF FOR DOING THIS.”

(BONUS: “omg I should totally send him this song I’m listening to so he can know my feeeeeeeeeeeelings.”)

Did you throw up yet?

I did, a little.

Anyway, it’s all over now. I wanted to do things legit or not at all, and he was all, “LETS MAKE A DEAL”… the deal being, in his words, “I can give you 100% of me, part of the time.” (….<—-DAFUQ?!! Why would I ever sign up for that? I don’t do drugs, sir.)

So after about 48 hours of crying, I woke up this morning, totally fine, and looked around. And I thought… wait, what have I been doing with my time?

I haven’t written anything in months (and this is supposed to be my life calling).

I haven’t touched my pole.

I haven’t blogged. (But you already know this).

I haven’t even grocery shopped, judging by the carton of expired eggs in my fridge and NOTHING ELSE in there.

What I have been doing: TEXTING TEXTING TEXTING MOPING TEXTING TEXTING PLANNING MY WORK OUTFITS.

Jesus. Anyway, I’m suddenly horrified at how much time I’ve lost, so it’s time to get back on the dang wagon called OH WAIT I HAVE A LIFE, DURR.

(Sorry for all the capital letters, this is an emotional time, guys).

So, GOALS:

1. Several hours a week on the pole.

2. Spare time spent NOT at home looking at my phone (so, either gym or studio).

3. Something fun and interesting to cross train with (I’m thinking hoop maybe… or yoga, to get my inflexible ass slightly more flexible again).

Mainly, I just want to remember that there was a time I was doing all my awesome life stuff for ME… not to impress some douchebag who already has a girlfriend.

I want to kill it on the pole, I want fresh photos, I want to work out some choreo I can pull out when I feel like showing off, I want videos on youtube… I want to feel proud of myself again.

FTS. Back to me.

Anyway, I’m not going to lie, I’m totally still moping, so here are some awesome “FUCK DATING” songs to pole to. I know I certainly will.

1. Doin Me, Fantasia

This song is a nice mix of ass-kicking and positive. Also, “No more crying, going through hell–it’s so good, I’m loving myself”… this song makes me feel so much better.

2. Me, Myself and I, Beyonce

Okay so I’ve decided that what I’m doing is just quoting the line in the song that makes me tear up/instantly feel a little better: “Yeah, you hurt me but i learned a lot along the way/After all the rain you’ll see the sun come out again.” I hope so, Beyonce. I hope so.

3. Bad, Wale (Featuring Tiara Thomas)

This song makes feeling bitter seem cool. Also, it’s sufficiently sexy to pole to without being sex-positive enough that you get depressed over your lack of boneage. (Listen, this is the best the descriptions are getting today, go with it).