Will Love For Food

Chicken Fingers A.K.A I Do Not Speak Girl

2016-01-27T11:31:00.002-08:00

“You’re a complete asshole!” Janice yelled at me over the phone. By her tone, I could picture her veins popping out of her neck and her eyes bulging out of her skull.

“What did I do?” I stammered back completely oblivious.

“Seriously? Did you not go on the same date I went on?” Janice said. I could hear her biting her nails and could feel the heat of her anger over the phone.

“Think David!” she screamed.

I met Janice on Match.com. I replied to her profile even though it did not have a picture. A rarity for me. But I was taken by her profile which I found funny and intriguing. We began to correspond, first on the website and then almost daily by phone. We hit it off pretty well. We both had sarcastic senses of humor. She worked in a medical laboratory and was passionate about music. She was close to her family, her sister in particular, who had autism. She was fiercely protective of her.

We set up a date for Saturday at 6:00pm at Time Square for dinner and a movie. Janice decided to take a cab to the city since she did not know how to navigate the trains or buses from New Jersey to New York.

As she got to Time Square, she called me because the cab driver was lost. I spoke to him but quickly became frustrated and angry at the driver for having his head up his ass. Finally, after some cajoling, we managed to meet at Rite Aid across the street from the theater. After making pleasantries I said.

“Man that driver was a jerk!” and began to bitch about him for about 10 minutes at how stupid and brainless he was.

This was my first mistake.

What I should have done…

I should have shut my mouth and complimented my date on how cute she looked. I should have let go of the anger for the driver because it was slowly souring our first meeting. I should have told Janice that her hair, which I knew she had recently straightened for this date looked fantastic.
But I didn’t, instead I chose to bitch about something that did not deserve my attention.

We then walked to the theater making small talk on the way. When we entered, we had two choices for the movie. Ninja Assassin or Twilight New Moon. I asked Janice what she wanted to watch. Her reply was, and I quote…

“I don’t care. I mean I saw the first Twilight but it’s up to you on what we should see.”

Translation:

I really want to see New Moon. Please pick this movie because it will show that you are sensitive to my needs and can get me.

“Okay, Ninja Assassin it is!” I said cheerfully as I plopped down my money on the counter.

Strike Two.

After watching the film, we decided to get a bite to eat. I turned to Janice and asked what restaurant she would prefer. Again she replied with “I don’t care you pick.”

Translation:

Please pick someplace nice. It will show me that you are a classy guy who wants to treat me well and can be romantic.

“Okay! Dave & Busters it is!” I said as I climbed the escalator.

Strike Three.

As we ate dinner, I took out my iPad and began to show her pictures of my friends. There were many photos of us goofing off at nightclubs with girls.

Strike Four

In doing this, I gave her the impression that I wasn’t serious about a committed relationship. I gave her the sense that I was immature, and that was the nail in the coffin.

After explaining this to me. Janice told me to forget her number, and I never heard from her again. Now where some of the mistakes I made were completely my fault? I don’t think so. To be honest, the whole experience made me learn that we have to be upfront with how we feel. Some of us are just dense. Which is what I believe my biggest sin was that night. Thinking that everyone thinks and feels the same way as me.

All in all, I do not regret going on the date or making my mistakes. If anything, it made me realize that sometimes you need to read between the lines.

Twizzlers and Carla Sparrow

2015-07-29T11:43:00.000-07:00

“I’m in love with Carla Sparrow” I told Paul as I took a bite of my twizzler.

“I’m sorry what?” Paul asked as he put his backpack on my bed.

“I love Carla Sparrow” I said again with confidence.

Paul sighed, and it was not the first time he had heard me claim my love for someone. But this was the first time he had heard me profess my love to Carla Sparrow one of the most popular girls in 10'th grade. But all those other girls were nothing compared to Carla. Carla, a transplant from New York had taken American School like a hurricane. She didn’t care about being cool or being part of some of group. Which made her infinitely more popular and cool. It’s as if the rules of high school did not apply to her. Looking back now, I realize that Carla was just more mature than all of us.

She had been more sexually active than any of us. She could kick anyone’s ass both verbally and physically. I remember one heated exchange she had with Stephanie Robles. Stephanie was the uptight borderline snobbish girl in our class. She always acted better than anyone else and for some reason was twice as cooler than I was.

“Carla you're just New York trash” Stephanie said one day in class.

“I may be trash but a least my boyfriend is not a fagot” Carla replied in a relaxed tone.

Stephanie turned three kinds of beat red that day and could not form a response. Probably because it was true, her boyfriend Manuel was clearly gay.

She was everything I wanted and more. I was hopelessly in love with Carla Sparrow. I wanted to scream it to the sky. I wanted Carla to be mine; I wanted to give her my heart and soul. Even my fantasies of Carla were romantic. All I wanted to do was kiss her. Okay, that’s a lie I craved to have the chance to smell her neck. As for sex, I was still a virgin and unlike other boys my sex fantasies were pretty tame. Cinemax soft-core porn was as bad as they got. But I refused to think of Carla in that way. Unlike other guy’s intention, I wanted to be honorable. I wanted to treat her with respect and just love her.

Paul looked back at me and said “Really dude, Carla?”

“Yes Paul, I love her with all my heart” I replied eagerly.

“Look, Dave there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to rip off the band aid” he replied
We stared at each other which seemed like an eternity; then he began to speak.

“Carla is just…” he began

“She’s wonderful” I interrupted.

“She’s out of your league dude” he finished.

“But, I love her” I replied
\
“Dude think about it, what kind of guys does she go out with?” Paul stated

It was true Carla was known to go out with guys from the other side of the tracks. Her last boyfriend was a guy who could probably crush me with one hand tied behind his back. The bad boy was something I was not in high school. I was into Dungeons and Dragons, I collected comic books and still had action figures in my room. I was the polar opposite of the kind of guy she went out with.

But doesn’t love transcend all barriers? I thought

Paul spent the next hour giving me a reality pill. I was never going to be anything to Carla Sparrow and no amount of love poems I wrote about her was going to change that. I was nerd and she was something far more. There was no reality where me declaring my love to Carla was going to end with anything but disaster.

It was a hard lesson to learn. There are some battles you face in life that you just have to accept that you’re going to fail. It’s not fair and it hurts, but that was life. I would face more battles in my life growing up. Some I won and some I lost. But when I think back about my high school years. I wonder that maybe Carla Sparrow was a battle I should have fought a little bit harder for.

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Seven

2014-04-12T15:54:00.001-07:00

As the night progressed, I found myself wandering the party in a daze. My New Years Eve had not gone at all how I expected. I had dreams of a sexual adventure that I would be telling my friends about for years. Instead, it was a night filled with shame and embarrassment.

I walked up to the roof of the apartment hoping to change my fate. The party was in full swing as I arrived. Beautiful people were drinking, dancing and generally having a grand time. I found Jack upstairs talking to a group of girls. All three were stunning and I could tell that Jack was in over his head. He was sweating and his expression was full of anxiety.

As I approached them I suddenly got the idea to use my latest magic trick. The fire wallet was a trick wallet that when opened would shoot flames in the air. It was a trick I had been practicing for weeks with. I was looking forward to performing it and figured that it would make quite an impression on these girls.

Jack looked at me with relief as I approached. “David!” he yelled. “Come meet my new friends!”
Jack put his arm around my neck and playfully pulled me down. “This is my buddy Dave,” He said with relief. “Dave these are my new friends Cheryl, Betty and Sandy,” He said pointing at each one.

“Hey,” I said shaking each of their hands. “So what’s going on?” I asked.

“Not much we were just saying how much this party sucks,” Sandy said as she brushed her blond hair out of her gorgeous green eyes.

This was the perfect moment for a magic trick I thought. So I took out my fire wallet and brought it up to my face.

“Well, maybe we ought to liven things up,” I said as I ignited it.

Flames popped out and I could see girls total shock at what was happening. It was my moment of accomplishment. I knew I had just made an impression that would be all they talked about.
And just then…In one utter disastrous moment. A gust of wind came and blew the flames directly onto my face setting my beard a flame.

The girls began to scream. Jack in a bit of a panic threw his drink on me soaking me and the wallet. The women’s screams now became uncontrollable laughter. The smell of burnt hair began to hit my nostrils. I stormed off to the bathroom to dry off and looked at myself in the mirror. The damage was thankfully minor. I had lost part of my beard and a small portion of one of my eyebrows was now gone.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but when you burn off part of your face. That to me was a wake up call. I soon left the party and while I made the trek home I thought about my existence. This system had wrecked my life and I was no closer to my goals.

When I got home I shot Frankie D an e-mail telling him all of this and I got a response back fairly quickly.

Dear David,

It's pretty clear to me that you are just not trying hard enough. I can only imagine that your anger at the system is not a failure of it. Its just that you have fallen back into bad habits and are mad that our boot camp was not a magic pill. I can only open the door for you, it's up to you to walk through it.

Frankie D

To say I was pissed was an understatement. The truth is a hard pill to swallow. Frankie D of course was wrong. But how could I speak to someone about waking up from denial, when they were still in the throws of it themselves.

It took another few months of hard work, but I finally did get my life back in order. I think back at this part of my life with some embarrassment and regret. But I also feel it was a necessary evil to get me at the point I am in my life right now.

A few years ago I went on a date where the woman at the end looked at me and said “You know David, you’re just a pure nice guy”

This haunted me for months and was one of the incidents that got me to contact Frankie D in the first place. Now that I think about it, I would rather be a pure nice guy than a pick up artist any day.

The End

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Six

2014-04-08T16:24:00.002-07:00

I walked into the midtown apartment knowing that tonight would be my night. It had been months since I had lost my job and I was still unemployed. Looking for a job was difficult when you were now a full time pick up artist. Well at least I was trying to be a pick up artist. The reality was that even though I was going out seven nights a week, I had yet to make any real progress.

But as Frankie D had advised me, this was the road I had chosen and it would not be easy. So what if I was blowing through my savings. So what if I was beginning to ask my parents for loans. It would all be worth it once I succeeded.

It was New Years Eve and this time things were different. I was no longer at home eating Doritos and trolling OkCupid profiles. Now I was in a wild New Years Eve party being thrown by complete strangers. I was surrounded by beautiful Manhattanites drinking and dancing. I knew this would be the night when I got my New Years Eve kiss. I knew this was the night I would stop being a looser.

I met my friends Jack and Jill at the bar. Jack was an in shape Asian twenty five year old teacher from Queens. Jill was an old coworker whom I had corralled into being my wingman. It didn’t take much to convince Jill to help me. The promise of an open bar was enough to convince her of almost anything. Jill took a gulp of her alcoholic concoction. Her long straight black hair did not cover her hazel eyes and her cute dimples. I must admit that when I first met Jill I had a crush on her but as we got to know one another a brother and sister relationship soon developed. We quickly scanned the room and saw many potential targets. I locked onto a cute Asian girl leaning against the wall by herself.

I struck up a conversation with her and Jill soon joined us. As the discussion continued it became apparent to me that I was making real progress in getting that New Years Eve kiss. I excused myself for a moment to refresh my drink and when I came back I found another man had taken my place. As I approached he took notice of me and sensed that I had marked this territory as my own. He quickly left and I focused on my target when I felt a punch to the back of the head.

“What the fuck?!” I exclaimed as I turned to see an angry Jill staring me down.

“She liked him! You ruined it for her!” Jill drunkenly slurred. She then took a shocked Asian girl and brought her to the man who had just left us. She put her hand in his and loudly exclaimed “She likes you!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I yelled at Jill.

“She’s my friend” Jill slurred back.

“Mother fucker I am your friend!” I pointed out to her as I stormed off.

As midnight loomed I began to get more and more desperate. I approached more and more women and was rejected more and more. Finally, as the count down began to go into a panic when suddenly out of the ether she appeared. She was a redhead covered in freckles. She wore a flowered dress and black boots. I was amazed as she approached me. I got barely a hello out when she grabbed me and began to kiss me.

It was the worst kiss I have ever had in my life.

It tasted like cigarettes and beer mixed together with spit. I gagged when she released me. At which point she burped in my face. I couldn’t believe it, this was my New Years Eve kiss. I had just been mouth raped by a slob. I hated every minute of it.

Of course, I had to get her number.

I took out my phone at which point she took it out of my hand. Then placed it back in my pocket, looked me in the eye and just said “No." And just like that, she was gone. I never did learn her name or anything else about her. But I will never forget her because, at my lowest, I learned that there are always people that show you that you can just go lower.

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Five

2014-04-07T16:31:00.002-07:00

I sat in my supervisor's office full of anxiety. The chair felt two sizes too small and the air was beginning to feel thin. Across from me sat Bob. Bob wore a nice buttoned down suit and his hair was slicked back. His office was small and cramped. It was quite bare, no posters or pictures of his family. Just a desk, a computer and some file cabinets.

“Do you know why I called you in here?” Bob asked me.

I gulped, my hands were fists and I felt a cold sweat trickle down my back. “I have a suspicion” I replied.

“David your performance this past year has been pretty abysmal,” Bob said as he leafed through a stack of papers.

“Yeah I know” I stammered “But this past month I have been doing better”

“What’s going on David?” Bob said as he stared at me.

How did I get here? I wondered to myself. A year ago I was making sales bonuses and now I wasn’t even meeting quota. To find out why we would need to rewind the clock one year.

After Frankie D left, I began to go out. As he had demanded I was going out four times a week. I was staying out till the wee hours of the morning. I was trying to follow his directives of approaching. As time went on, I did get better. I got more comfortable approaching women and even had a few make out sessions at the bars. My pick up friends began to call me Warlock. Yet I still was no closer to scoring dates or scoring at all in general. In fact, I got laid less than I was when I started the system.

But denial is a powerful emotion. Contrary to the proof in front of my eyes, I just kept going. I would think about those stories. Where someone set their minds to something and pursued it until they were a success. I just kept thinking if I keep trying, one day I will succeed.

I began to fall asleep at my work. My body was exhausted from all the running around I did and the lack of sleep. Days began to blur together. I found myself making mistakes and my sales began to plummet. Which brought me to my bosses office that fateful day.

“I haven’t been feeling well but I’ll do better I promise” I said

Bob sighed and leaned back against his chair. He looked out the window as if to find the words to express his utter disappointment. An awkward moment of silence was left between us.

“Yeah David, I’m sorry but its too late. I am going to have to let you go” Bob said as he turned from the window.

I cant remember the moments after that. I think I must have blocked it out or maybe the shame I felt has erased it from my memory. Either way I soon found myself outside of my former employers building. Holding a bag of what was left of my possessions I walked toward the subway. My cell phone began to ring after a few blocks.

“Yo Warlock!” Robert yelled as I took his call. “A bunch of us are going to 235th for some recon. I heard there are some wickedly fine ladies there”

I thought for a second, pick up just cost me my job. Did I really want to dive into yet another night of trying to score? Isn’t it time to grow up? Yet I kept hearing Frankie D whispering in my ears. Do you really want to give up now? You have hit rock bottom, now there is no way but up. This is your moment. Seize the day and make your dreams come true. Now is the time to decide are you a winner or a looser?

I looked down at my phone and brought it to my face. I took a breath and said “What time do you want to meet?”

The world would not be the same again.

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Four

2014-04-01T15:23:00.002-07:00

Later that night Frankie D took me to a club on the lower east side called Crackers. The club was spacious and boasted an indoor garden. It was also one of the most frequently visited clubs by other Pick Up Artists. Once we walked in all eyes where on us, Frankie D’s reputation preceded him. We met a friend of Frankie’s named Will. Will was an actor living in NYC. He was well built and wore a nicely trimmed beard.

“Okay, its time for you to approach” Frankie D ordered.

I sucked in my breath and headed straight to a cute blond sitting at the bar alone. I struck up a conversation with her without using one of Frankie D’s lines. This annoyed him and I could tell he was waiting for me to get rejected in order to tell me off. To both of our surprises the girl responded and we wound up having a nice chat about our favorite bands. But when I went to ask for her phone number she sadly informed me that she was married.

Feeling rejected and down I slunk back to Frankie D.

“That was awesome!” He squealed.

“What are you talking about? She’s married” I said

“Whatever you stayed in for twenty five minutes!” He replied “You did great”

As the night progressed, I approached more women. Most of the time I used Frankie D’s canned material that I had memorized and did some magic tricks. A lot of the women were amused by my antics, but none gave me their numbers. Frankie D, on the other hand, was more interested in spending time with his friends than to pay attention to me. I would see him every once in a while as the night went on but finally as last call rang out Frankie D took me aside.

“Okay, so this is the last piece of advice I have for you,” He said seriously. “In order to be a real ladies man you need to start going out four times a week”

“Four times a week?!” I exclaimed. “Frankie, I have a job. How am I supposed to go out four times a week?”

“David, what the fuck? Do you want to be a ladies man or what?” He shot back “This is what its going to take to get to the next level”

I thought about this and finally gave in to Frankie D’s demands. I had spent most of my life being rejected by women. I was tired of my life being this way. So when I went home I wrote down Frankie D’s suggestions and taped it to my mirror. I called them Frankie’s Laws.

1) Go out four times a week
2) Learn more magic tricks
3) Stop hanging out with friends who were not in the pick up scene
4) Approach at least three times a night
5) Always believe that you are the most attractive man in the club

Frankie D left the next day. I vowed to make him proud and become the ladies man I always wanted to be. What I didn’t know was that by following Frankie’s Laws, it would lead to consequences that would alter my life forever.

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Three

2014-03-28T11:04:00.002-07:00

I met Frankie D the next day at Runway 69. Located in the heart of Times Square, Runway 69 was one of the lower end strip clubs of the city. It catered to business men on leave from their wives and tourists from out of town who wanted to spice up their vacation. Frankie D sat in the back of the club away from the stage. He was wearing a white wrinkled short sleeved shirt which showed off his impressive collection of wristbands. His hair was slicked back and I could see the wrinkles under his eyes. I could tell he hadn’t slept much.

“Stripper game!” He announced. “I figured since you had such a hard time last night, it was time to change gears” He sat down after greeting me and took a sip of his fruity drink. I looked at Frankie D and thought about the show. Frankie D had come in third after failing to extract a stripper from the club into a waiting limo outside. I wondered if Frankie D had overcome his downfall.

I also reflected on my experience with strippers. It had been years since I set foot in a strip club. The fantasy of erotic dancers had been shattered long ago. When I worked as a driver back home and I would see them hustle drunken tourists out of their money. It killed any magic they had in my mind. Still I felt like I had let Frankie D down the night before and shrugged off my concerns.

“What you have to keep in mind about strippers is that their job is to game guys” Frankie D said. “So you have to be careful on how you game them, because you can tank yourself very easily”

“So what do you do?” I asked.

Frankie D took another gulp of his drink. “Here are the rules” He said.

1) Keep your money in your pocket. Once you take out any money its business as usual for them and you won't be able to dig your way out of that hole.

2) Negs up front. You need to drag them down to your level fast because if not they will walk all over you.

3) Turn off her programming. She’s in work mode right now you need to get her to forget that she’s looking at her next mark.

4) Have a reason for being there. If she smells that you’re here to game then its all over and you have made the scene toxic.

5) Don’t let her touch you. They haven’t earned the right too yet.

I tried to digest this information when like blood in the water the sharks began to circle us. A cute busty blond made the first move and approached us. “Hey guys,” she said as she walked near us. “What brings you here”

Without missing a beat Frankie D replied “Where waiting for some friends”

She licked her lips. I could tell she smelled fresh meat. “Well, can I join you?” she asked.

“Sure”, we both said in unison. Frankie D shot me a look that said to shut it. She tried to sit in Frankie D’s lap.

“Whoa! Whoa! Slow down turbo, you need to buy me a drink first if you're going to try to take advantage of me” Frankie D said pushing her off. She began to laugh as she sat down across from us. “What’s your name touchy?” Frankie D asked.

“Destiny” She replied.

“No, seriously what’s your real name? Frankie D said.

A moment of silence passed between them. It felt like they were somehow mentally arm wrestling. Finally Destiny sighed and said “It’s Jessica”

Frankie D smiled and said “Well it's nice to meet you Jessica." We introduced ourselves and for the next hour Frankie D tried to game her. He did magic tricks, he told jokes and threw negs left and right. She seemed to enjoy it, she laughed and flirted right back. Then as we were about to leave Frankie D said. “So why don’t you give me your e-mail? Next time I’m in town maybe we can get a drink”

“Sure”, She said and she gave it to him and left. As we gathered our things Frankie D whispered to me “I didn’t get her number because I was afraid she would say no. It's easier to get her e-mail.” I remember wondering how much of a success did an e-mail warrant. I could get a strippers e-mail, it doesn’t mean she’s going to respond let alone meet me later on. But I brushed those concerns aside. I had spent a lot of money on Frankie D and I should be learning from him rather than questioning his skills.

Frankie D looked at me as I grabbed my coat. “Oh, Dave don’t forget to pick up the check,” he said as he walked out the door. So much for keeping your money in your pocket.

To be continued

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Two

2014-03-25T16:46:00.001-07:00

“You have got to be the worst student I have ever had” Frankie D said angrily. The vein in his forehead was throbbing. He looked at me with anger and disappointment which seared into my soul. My eyes began to water. My heart felt heavy and I began to get shortness of breath.

“I’m sorry” I stammered.

“I honestly don’t know what I am going to do with you” Frankie D said as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I have never encountered this before”

Throngs of people walked past us laughing and enjoying the night. I sat down at the curb of the street and began to wipe the tears from my face. I was trying in vain to not let Frankie D see me. I began to wonder how I had gotten here.

The night had started with promise. Frankie D took me to a rooftop bar called Descend. Tonight was the night where we would test out all the lessons he had given me in how to be a ladies man. I tried to dress as Frankie D had advised me. Peacocking was the term he used. “I want you to dress outrageous” He said. So I did, I wore a patch filled shirt with a pendant around my neck and a ring for each finger.

I walked into Descend, I was ready to make my mark. The bar was filled to capacity with beautiful people. The patrons reminded me of those ads I had seen in the pages of GQ. Great looking, stylish, and all having the time of their lives. Frankie D greeted me at the bar and after some small talk he said “Okay so lets start approaching”

He steered me to a group of girls talking at the end of the bar. “Okay, go approach them” he said. As I began to move toward them Frankie D grabbed my arm. “Oh by the way” he said, “Your clothes are way to small for your body, okay good luck!”

I suddenly felt like my clothes were cutting off my circulation. I felt like Jabba The Hut and that everyone was staring at me. I approached the girls and said hello. They immediately sensed my fear and turned away from me. The night only got worse from there. I was asked if I lost a bet when I said my memorized lines that Frankie D had taught me. I tried performinf a magic trick and was laughed at by many at the bar. All the while, Frankie D, got angrier and angrier. By the end of the night, I couldn’t even approach a woman without my heart beating out of my chest and having a full blown panic attack.

Changing venues did not help. We moved from bar to bar and I could not approach anyone. Finally, fed up Frankie D dragged me outside and began to rant about how terrible I was. All the while I was thinking shouldn’t you be helping me?

Sitting on the curb of the street I looked at everyone around me having fun. I thought to myself, why can't I just let go? Why is it so hard to just have fun? Frankie D sat next to me and sighed “Okay go home get some rest, tomorrow we will start again meet me at times square”

I walked home feeling like a piece of garbage. Once I walked into my apartment I took off my clothes and took a hot shower. As the water dripped down my body cleaning the dried tears from my face, I thought about my life. The goal of changing my life seemed so far away. Would I ever reach it? Would I ever be truly happy? The answers to those questions eluded me.

As I went to sleep I at least had the comfort that the worst was behind me. Little did I know that the worst was yet to come…

To be continued

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part One

2014-03-23T15:32:00.000-07:00

“So what you have to know about women is that what entertained them as a child will amaze them now” Frankie D said as he took a bite of his cheesecake. Frankie D sat across from me and ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair. I took a minute to look him over he was wearing a sports jacket with a v neck white t-shirt. Around his neck, hung a beaded necklace. He looked just as he did on the TV show only a bit pudgier and more tanned.

“Yeah, but magic tricks? Seriously?” I said squirming in my seat.

“Dude, magic tricks are where it's at” He responded taking another bite of his cheesecake. You must be wondering how did I wind up sharing a meal with a reality show star? Why was he trying to convince me that magic tricks were the way into a woman’s heart? Well for the answers to that you had to turn the clock back six months.

It was New Years Eve and I was once again at home trolling Okcupid profiles. The sounds of celebrations were just outside my window. Friends embracing and lovers sharing that midnight kiss that I could only dream about. I was at my lowest. I was working a sales job that I hated and I was lonely. Moving to New York was supposed to get me out of my shell but two years in and I was deeper than I was previously. I had little friends and my dating life was in shambles.

It was then that I decided that I needed to change my life. I called up my friend Juan for help. Juan had always been the smartest of my group of friends. He was always regaling me with tales of his dating life and his other artistic pursuits. In recent years, he had settled down with a lovely wife and began the next chapter of his life. I begged him for advice on how to alter my lot in life.

"Well, you need to focus on one aspect of your life and devote as much energy as you can to changing it. Once you can accomplish this then you can move on to the next aspect” He said casually over the phone.

It was then that I decided to focus on women. My love life had never been particularly great. In fact, it was pretty depressing. As you have read, my dates were rather disastrous. So I told Juan my plan I would dedicate all my energy into finally unlocking the secrets of that mysterious creature known as woman.

“That’s excellent!” He said. “You should check out this show I am watching, its all about being better with women its called The Ladies Man”

That weekend I spent binging on this reality show. It centered around this dating guru known only as Obscurity. Obscurity was a self proclaimed Pick Up Artist. A man who had claimed to have bedded more women than Wilt Chamberlain. His system claimed would guarantee that any man could win the woman of their dreams. One of the contestants though caught my eye. His name was Frankie D and he was a fat slob when he began the show and through the course of the series became the life of the party. He ultimately came in third but that point was glossed over, Frankie D was like me a pathetic shell of a man and had somehow transformed himself. I needed to learn more.

For the next month, I spent every waking moment devouring as much information I could find on Obscurity and his system. I read his book, downloaded videos of his lectures and even found rare footage of him in the field with women. I also tracked down Frankie D and began to e-mail him. To my shock he responded and we began a bit of an e-mail friendship. Then one day he made his move.

Dear David,

I wanted to let you know, I have begun to teach classes. I thought maybe I could fly to NYC for a weekend and I could teach you. It wouldn’t be too expensive usually I charge three grand but for you I would only charge two grand. Let me know if you're up for it.

Frankie D

What a coincidence! I thought to myself. I had just saved two grand’s worth of sales bonuses! It was fate. I quickly wired Frankie D the money and set up a weekend for him to fly into NYC. Which is how I wound up in Dave and Busters of Times Square with Frankie D.

“So women are up here” Frankie D said raising his hand above his head. “And you are down here” He rested his other hand on the table. “It's your job to lower them to your level and we do this with negs”

I sucked in my breath. Negs, it was something I was dreading. Negs were basically backhanded compliments that you would say to a woman in order to shake her confidence. This way they would see you as an equal instead of lower. It was a concept I was not very comfortable with.

I was a nice guy. It was a feature of myself that I was always happy with. It all seemed somehow sleazy. I mean why would I want a woman who thought of herself as superior to me? Would I always be negging her?

“I don’t know. I don’t feel comfortable with negs” I said. Without a beat Frankie D took another bite of his cheesecake and said “No one does at first. But trust me, if you want to stop sleeping alone in your bed. Then you need to get used to negs”

I thought long and hard about this. Sure, I was a nice guy but where had that gotten me? Maybe it was time to get out of my comfort zone.

“Okay let's do this” I said with a sigh of surrender. Frankie D looked at me seriously for a few seconds then he smiled. He licked his spoon, finishing the last of his cheesecake and said.

“David, welcome to the first day of your new life”

To Be Continued...

I'm On TV Bitches!!!!

2013-02-14T19:19:00.001-08:00

I have been doing a lot of open mic story telling events around the city. Hence why I haven't updated the blog. Yesterday I was very lucky to get on The Moths Valentines day show over at Housing Works Bookstore. CNN happened to be there and well turns out the camera loves me. Almost as much as I like junk food. Seriously I need to start loosing some pounds, I am slowly turning into Humpty Dumpy.

2012-10-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

A Picture Says A Thousand Words

I have been online dating for quite a few years now. I have seen thousands upon thousands of profiles. But it never fails to amaze me at the chronic mistakes most people make in their photos. Here, are the errors that both men and women make in their profiles. Lets begin, shall we?

Baby Pictures

This is one that I think should be a no brainer. Why on gods green earth would you post a picture of a baby that is not yours? Yes I am sure your nephew or friends baby is utterly adorable. Guys, do you have any idea what you are saying to guys with these pictures? Think about that for a second. If your answer was that it makes you look like you are dying to get pregnant, Then NO FUCKING SHIT! Seriously if its not your kid, stop posting photos of toddlers.

Photoshopped Pictures

With the invention of basic editing tools for the public, everyone is a graphic artist. Sure its fun to turn yourself into a cartoon or put your face on a kittens body, but this should be avoided at all costs. Its not that we have no sense of fun. But any kind of picture alteration even if it is silly, sends only one message. You are not serious in finding someone. Why should a successful, handsome, and smart guy message a girl; who doesn’t have the maturity to post an honest normal picture?

Pictures with X boyfriends or Male “Best Friends”

This just comes down to the difference between men and women. The concept of the male best friend tends to fall on the female gender. While yes the friendship could be purely platonic or he could just be gay. A potential mate cant possibly know that. A picture boils everything down to a visually primal level in which we react like the apes we are and see a potential threat. Sure a lot of websites will allow you to place a comment on your pictures, but this does not help at all. Your intentions don't matter, the majority of men just won't buy it. We live in a cynical world, so just save yourself a headache and avoid putting those pictures up.

Pictures of You In A Weird Angle

I believe that taking pictures of yourself in a weird angle has been around since Niepce first thought up photography. I love how people still believe they are the first to come up with using camera tricks to hide their flaws. I once was contacted by a woman who’s profile picture had her wearing a black dress in a dark room to hide her weight problem. The classic of course is the aerial shot using perspective to hide your pop belly. It's actually quite stupid. How are you going to hide that when you finally meet? Guys if a person is going to be with you, they should accept you warts and all. I have a beer belly myself, but I make no attempt to hide it. Does that mean that I get fewer responses from the “hot” girls? Well yeah, but why would I want to be with someone so shallow? I want to be with someone who is not ashamed to be with me. Yes the physical does count, but deception is just pathetic all around.

Older Pictures

Here, is another classic. We have folks who post pictures of themselves when they were a size 2 and now are a 6. Then there are those pictures when you guys used to have hair, now you look like Charlie Brown. I still don’t understand what you are trying to achieve. You are only delaying the inevitable awkward meeting where you sit across a pissed off person at the four star restaurant. Not only are you wasting their time but your's as well. Trust me, you're not going to win them over with your charming personality. How can you ask someone to look past your looks, when you cant even do it?

Pictures of your abs or any picture without a shirt

So you spent the past summer working on your abs. You are proud of what you achieved and why shouldn’t you? But guys seriously you look like insecure meatheads when you go, and post pictures of yourselves shirtless rocking the eight pack. It screams “Look at me! I need validation to feel good about myself!” Which just repels women, at least the quality ones. Besides you don’t want to look like a reject from “The Jersey Shore.” Well unless you genuinely want to, but I for one won't respect you.

Pictures of your car

Maybe its because, I have never seriously been into cars like most guys. But I just don’t understand why so many dudes choose to post pictures of themselves in front of their vehicles. Obviously we can make the comparison of how they are making up for their penis size but its such a cliché. Personally I think it conveys insecurity about their wallet. I shudder to think of the type of ladies who see a picture of the car and think “I got to get me some of that…” Lets be frank ladies, if you are into machines I know there are a few contraptions that can give you more pleasure than driving around in them.

Pictures of you badly dressed

This is a no brainer, but you would be shocked how often guys make this mistake. I think its because they are too afraid to take pictures of themselves. So they only have these horrible ones of them at the prom or work functions. Basically photos you need to burn not post. Here’s a tip, take photos of yourself constantly. Eventually you will look terrific in a few. You can post those and erase the rest.

Pictures of you with slutty good looking girls

I got to be honest. I have made this mistake myself. I got some unwelcome advice that if I had hot looking girls on my profile it would attract other succulent looking girls. Yes I was that stupid. Really it made me look like a sleaze bag and not in a good way. Having slutty looking girls makes you look shallow, judgmental and just downright arrogant. I don’t think guys know this, but arrogant is actually another word for insecure not cool. This is why I hate entourage.

So there you have it one mans observation on the most common profile mistakes. You may not agree (probably because your guilty of these), but I stand by my opinions. Feel free to comment if I missed any or if you have something to add that I missed. If you make these mistakes please don’t take it personal, I have been guilty of a few of these myself. But at least I owned up to my mistakes and learned from them. I hope you do as well.

2012-10-04T15:36:00.001-07:00

Surprise!

I Have a Penis!

I have a lot of gal pals since moving to NYC. Mostly because these women find my jack ass nature endearing. Anyway one of the many perks of being friends with them is that I hear all the bad date stories that serve as cautionary tales.

But one trend keeps coming up (no pun intended) over and over again. The trend? The penis picture. A lot of women reading this are nodding their heads agreeing with me. Here, is the basic scenario guy and girl go out, guy acts normal on the date (hell sometimes down right charming) and its a lovely night. But once the girl gets back to her place. She checks her e-mail only to see a message from the boy. Excitedly she opens the attachment and.....

Penis picture. Seriously? If it wasn't that I saw it happen right before my eyes, I probably would not have believed it.

I mean I have guy friends. Some I have known for over ten years, and in all that time, we have never had this exchange...

Me: So this girl I went out with is not returning my calls

Friend: did you send her a picture of your penis?

Guys! Seriously! Really? What the fuck is wrong with you? I mean what kind reaction do you think you'll get?

Girl: His this is Suzy, I just want to let you know I had a fabulous time last night. But my favorite part was when you e-mailed me that picture of your cock. It made me think "gosh I need me some of that 3 inch meat"

Wake up! That's not gonna happen. You know I'm a guy. I know sometimes our penis surprises us, and we are proud. But we keep it to ourselves, we don't take pictures of it and send to a girl who we have just met. Also, have none of you realized that now in the internet ether there is a picture of your cock floating around? Once it's online, it's on there forever!

As technology moves forward, this could wind up happening...

Mr.White: Mr.Gill I see here you are more than qualified for this position

Mr.Gill: Yes I agree sir

Mr.White: Now, as you know the position is with a salary of 1.5 million a year, perks include use of the company jet, your own bat mobile and 150 vacation days.

Mr.Gill: Yes

Mr.White: Well this is just a formality, but I need to ask you one last question and the jobs yours

Mr.Gill: Go Ahead, please

Mr.White: Did you send a picture of your penis to a Jessica Williams on Sept 3rd 2002?

Mr.Gill: fuck me

Just saying guys.

2012-10-01T20:19:00.001-07:00

Now For Something Completely Different!

When Texting goes wrong

A few months ago I had an incident that I think could have been avoided. Let me give you the details. Once upon a time Sir Dave of Bronxicus asked for fair maiden who we shall call Betty. Sir Dave found Lady Betty attractive enough to ask on yonder movie of Total Rekal. 'twas a horrible film but much enjoyable time was had by all.

Now that you know that then we can proceed. Betty was the type of person who preferred to speak via text. This would be reason #15342 why I hate texting. It started out okay (always does) but then the following scenario came about. She had to cancel our second date because she had to visit family. She told me she felt really bad about this. So I responded which was my fatal error. I said something I say to everyone both male and female friends. It was...

"Aw man that sucks, I miss ya man"

That's it. That's all it took to freak out a thirty year old woman. Because what she interpreted instead was....

"Oh no! I miss you! I love you! Please I beg you stay Betty! Have my babies! Marry me! Just stay...staaaaaaay with me please!

So suddenly when I don't hear from her and ask what's up. I get the I feel to much pressure speech. So I reply...

"No worries, sorry I freaked you out"

Oh boy did that hit a nerve because suddenly I'm getting texts about how she didn't freak out, she felt pressured and in the future how I shouldn't do that blah di di blah blah

This pisses me off. Why can't you admit you are freaking out?! Why do you have to qualify it with words like pressured or terms like not feeling it. Dude own your shit. It's okay to be freaked. Why are so many people afraid of admitting that?

Anyway we ended it on relatively good turns. She didn't want a friendship with me which I get. I think it's arrogant and stupid move. But I get it. She thinks I'm a freak who will stalk her in the street. Shes wrong of course but it's her opinion and you have to respect it.

Still this is why texting as a main form of communication should be banned. So idiots like me don't freak out girls by making jack asses of ourselves or sending pictures of your penis but that's a whole other post.

2012-09-28T19:58:00.001-07:00

The French Toast Saga

Part Six - The Bitter End!

“Pack your shit, call your brother and get the fuck out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I had finally snapped. After days of dealing with Casey freeloading off me, I had had enough. I stood in my room, already dressed for work, losing my shit. Casey stood across from me, white with fear and a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Are you serious?” She stammered back.

“You better fucking believe it! Do you think I’m stupid? I know what you are doing! You prance around my fucking apartment not cleaning up after yourself, eating my food and taking up my time. You think walking around in a thong or touching my leg is going to keep me from realizing that you are nothing more than a leech?”

“That’s…That’s not true” She stammered.

“Oh isn’t it?” I asked my face turning a crimson red. “Who babysat you for two weeks? Who paid for the Statue of Liberty? Who put up with your demands on a 3 hour trip to a convention that was closed? And WHO THE FUCK COOKED YOU FRENCH TOAST EVERY FUCKING MORNING?!” I shrieked.

In my rage, all I could think about was how did I get to this point? What finally set me off on this rage fueled tirade. Well I guess you could say I just had finally been pushed too far. Actually it was a bottled water of all things that made me snap.

The days after Jersey were exceptionally hard on me. I was on babysitting duty for over a week. Trying to entertain and accompany Casey on tourist destinations of NYC. I tried to at least pick free events. The last one was the Bronx Zoo which actually has a free day, were general admission is free. We spent the day looking at animals and taking pictures of Casey. The photos consisted of Casey in front of a cage (with a bewildered animal) a fake smile and a Vanna White model pose. After the first few times, its cuteness begins to become irritating. Finally after a long day we walked back to the subway. I was pretty thirsty so I bought myself a bottled water, but before I could take it from the vendor, Casey struck. She quickly grabbed the bottle, opened it and drank it while walking away. Leaving me with the bill.

“You okay buddy? You don’t look so good” The hotdog vendor said with concern.

I ignored him and walked to the subway where Casey was already waiting for the train. Her blond hair covered her headphones, but I could hear the rock music emanating from them. Once back home I went to my room and tried to get ready for work.

“Hey David, could you give me sixty dollars?” Casey said in a sweet tone.

“Fuck off” I grumbled.

“What?” Casey said shocked.

And that’s how it all ended. Casey packed her suitcase and was gone by the time I came home from work. I never heard from her again.

No! I Wish!

That’s how it should have ended.

Sadly the truth is more pathetic. What occurred was in the middle of my tirade, Casey grabbed me and shoved her tongue down my throat. So I wound up having a rage make out session with a girl I despised. Casey was not as stupid as she looked. Because for the rest of her trip she owned my ass. Every time I said no to any of her requests, she would shove her tongue down my throat. Sometimes she mixed it up by putting my hand over her breasts. But basically, I was her bitch.

I was under her thrall and did not wake up from it until a month later. Casey and I had begun an idiotic long distance “relationship”. It consisted of me calling her every day to hear about what she did that day or tell her how pretty she was. I realized I had hit rock bottom when I had the following conversation.

“So your coming to visit me right?” Casey squealed over the phone.

“Yeah I’m going to buy tickets for December to Puerto Rico before New Years Eve” I said in a horn filled daze.

“Oh I cant wait! You can go shopping with me, and you can take me to the local comic convention…” Her voice trailed off. The realization that Casey wanted me to be her sugar daddy was beginning to dawn on me.

“What?” I said.

“I just remembered! I was wondering that when you come down to Puerto Rico, maybe you could take me back to NYC” She said shyly.

“WHAT?!” Both the frat boy and I cried out.

“Well why not? You said you wanted to be with me. Let's just do it, I love your apartment” Casey said excitedly.

Aw dude, fuck this bitch. The frat boy said as he walked out of my life.

“Casey?” I asked.

“Yes?” Casey answered.

“Go fuck yourself, you freeloading cu--”

Well I think we should end it there.

I never did hear from Casey again. It turned out she had been stalking Rosa’s X, a child star from the 90‘s. She had concocted the entire visit just to learn more about him. This was to see if she could find some information she could use to hunt him. Once Rosa found out, I never had to worry about having my friendship tied with that idiotic blond. Casey deleted her face book account and dropped off the face of the Earth. Still, even with those hellish two weeks I learned something about myself. I had hit rock bottom. I had given up my self respect which was my biggest mistake. After all, once we lose that then we are nothing. That’s the one thing I will never do again. I am glad she’s gone, but I have to be honest; every time I smell French Toast it reminds me of her. Which is why I have not cooked it for years.

2012-09-26T15:55:00.000-07:00

The French Toast Saga
Part Five - The Silver Lining

As I laid in the darkness, I sighed loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Rosa said as she leaned back in the recliner next to mine.

“I’m just bored” I replied trying to ignore the fact that a hot girl was sleeping next to me.

Rosa then turned and faced me. It was then that I realized how stunning this girl was. Even in the darkness I could see clear as day that this girl was radiant.

“What’s on your mind?” Rosa said innocently, I stared at her brown eyes and tried, not to swoon.

The frat boy in me suddenly appeared in my mind.

SEX! SEX! TALK ABOUT SEX! He screamed.

I punched him in the balls and ignored him. I was not going to make the same mistakes I had made following his ideas.

But how did I wind up sleeping next to such an extraordinary girl?

After the convention, we headed to Rosas house. We had a quick bite to eat and then stopped at Wallgreens to pick up some tooth brushes. Casey tried to make me buy her make up, but I refused. To her horror, she was forced to buy her own make up. Seeing Caseys face while she was paying the cashier for the items she bought, was the most rewarding event of my week.

Rosa lived in a quaint, quiet neighborhood on top of a hill. Her house was unusually cozy. She had two cats that where exceptionally friendly and her family was particularly welcoming. She led us to the basement that had been converted to a game room. There was a sofa and two recliners. I quickly jumped on the sofa, ready to claim it. I placed my things on it clearly marking my territory. But Casey was like Germany, she did not recognize international law. When I came out of the bathroom, I found my items in the corner of the room, while Casey was quickly snoring away on the couch.

“You can sleep next to me” Rosa said innocently as she sat in one of the twin recliners.

Oh yeah man! Score! The frat boy in my head said motioning for a high five. I ignored him trying to remember why I had listened to him in the first place.

“Okay” I gulped and climbed into the recliner next to her. It was then that I discovered that I would not be getting any sleep. The problem was not Rosa but rather that every time I laid down, the chair would bounce me back up again. I felt like the inflatable clown punching bag.

So there I was in the darkness with a stunning woman lying next to me.

I was a wreck. What could I say to this woman that no man had ever told her? How could I make my mark?

“Do you think you would survive a zombie apocalypse? Or would you be zombie food?” I blurted out.

Rosa laughed “I would definitely be the leader of the survivors although I don’t think all my friends would make it. What about you?” she asked.

“Oh I would be dead” She let out a laugh once I said this. “I don’t know if you have noticed, but I have a bit of a weight problem. So I cant run real fast, hence easy target”

“Really?” she said with a smile. Oh that smile was divine.

“Yeah but I would sacrifice myself to save my friends. Only they would have to kill me when I turned into a zombie.” I replied earnestly.

And this was the type of conversation we had all night. We talked about comedy, about our families, our love lives, and before you knew it, the sun was rising. It's unquestionably one of the best conversations I have had in my life. Which is why I decided to do the following.

“Hey Rosa, can I tell you something” I asked timidly.

“Sure” she replied.

“Your smoking hot and all, but I truly just want to be friends” I said with every truth in my being.

“No one has ever said that to me” Rose said shocked.

“Well what do you say, friends?” I said extending my hand.

“Friends” Rosa said shaking my hand with a smile on her face. I am happy to report that we are still friends to this day. Rosa has introduced me to her close friends who I now partake of their company from time to time.. I never thought I could have friendships as strong as the ones back home until I met Rosa. She was the silver lining in this dark time.

So we laughed and gabbed some more. Just having a real swell time.

And like the wet towel she is, Casey awoke and ruined everything.

“You guys are talking so loud” She whined. “What’s going on?”

“Um nothing I said. We are just talking” I replied.

“Im hungry. David can you make me French toast?” She said smiling. “David makes the best French Toast…”

It was then that I realized that this weekend would come to an explosive end….

2012-09-24T04:58:00.000-07:00

The French Toast Saga

Part Four - The Fellowship of Jersey

“Yeah were going to go to Hackett’s Town. How much is that?” I asked leaving my credit card on the counter. The clerk sat across from me. Her blank expression showed the years she had worked dealing with commuters to New Jersey.

“That’s fifty five dollars” The clerk said while popping her gum.

“Whoa!” I heard Casey cry out. As usual she was the reason why we stood in Penn Station. The morning had been trying. Casey had made me wait three hours while she got dressed. I, on the other hand, took only thirty minutes.

I turned to ask for her share of the money. Only to see a puff of smoke where she had been standing. I then turned back to see to my horror the clerk swiping my card and printing out the tickets.

“Here you go...NEXT!” The clerk said with a monotone tone.

I wandered in a daze trying to grasp what had just happened. I found Casey at the bottom of the stairs on her phone.

“David, Rose wants to talk to you” she said handing me the phone.

“What?” I said confused.

Casey then shoved the phone in my ear.

“Hello?” I said as the clouds of confusion where parting.

“Yeah where are we meeting?” Rosa asked.

“Hacketts Town” I replied.

“Where’s Hacketts Town?” Rosa asked.

It was at that moment that I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. It turned out Casey had never coordinated the meeting with Rosa. I had just assumed she had and that Rosa knew the area around the convention. When I asked Casey why she never did this, she looked at me puzzled and said.

“I did, don’t you remember? I asked you if you wanted to talk to my friend on the phone” Casey said annoyed. I had a brief memory of Casey asking me if I had anything to say to her friend. At the time, I was confused as to why she had asked such a strange question. Now I knew what she meant, only it was coded in Casey speak.

I wanted to strangle her at that moment. But there was no point, I was already in the train station. I had committed to this journey. I figured I might as well see it through. I only wish Penn Station had a return policy where I could have gotten my money back. We coordinated to meet at Elisabeth and then head to the convention. Rosa had a car so the commute would be easier. So we boarded the train. I sat by the window and prayed to get some kind of peace on this trying day.

“I want to sit by the window!” Casey complained and climbed over me.

I was quickly shoved to the isle. Dumbfounded, I had brief urge to punch her in the face. A feeling that as a feminist disturbed me. Casey quickly got comfortable in her seat and put her earphones on. I asked her to give me my ears buds to distract myself with some music.

“Oh, I lost them. Sorry” Casey said not looking up from her comic book.

My patience was beginning to buckle.

An hour of me trying to decide if I could get away with murder went by. Two train rides later, we arrived in Elisabeth New Jersey. A beat up blue Toyota Corolla pulled up in front of us. From the car window, a smiling Spanish girl popped her head out. It was Rosa.

“Hi!” She said in a perky squeaky voice. Her black hair in curls swished in the wind.

I quickly grunted hello and jumped into her backseat. I didn’t speak in the entire drive to the convention. I was furious. Casey’s clueless and selfish behavior was driving me insane. The small frat boy in my head tried to mention breasts, but I punched him repeatedly in the face.

It was seven o’clock when we arrived at the hotel. The crowds were pouring out of the convention doors. I felt a knot in my stomach.

“Hey excuse me but where do we get tickets for the convention?” I asked a man dressed as Batman.

“What are you talking about? The convention is over for the day” He replied looking at his watch.

I will let you sit with that for a minute.

So our journey ended at the lobby of a hotel. We had failed in our quest. I glared at Casey, who looked confused. There were only two questions I saw in her eyes.

Didn’t the world revolve around her? Why would the world not stop to accommodate her schedule?

“Well at least we are in time for the after party” Rosa said with a grin.

It was at this moment that I realized Rosa was a beacon of light in this darkness. The next few hours are a bit of a blur. It turned out Rosa was well known at the convention. After years of attending the con, she had become a bit of a local celebrity. We were invited to private parties, drinks were given to us for free, and I had a line of men trying to grill me for information about Rosa's romantic life. By the time the parties began to disperse, it was midnight.

This posed a problem, the trains had stopped running. We were now stuck in New Jersey. Rosa happily invited us to stay the night at her home. Having only known this girl for a few hours, I was hesitant. But her perkiness and bubbly personality had won me over. So I agreed to spend the night in Rosas basement. What I didn’t know was that it would be a night I would never forget.

2012-09-19T20:30:00.000-07:00

The French Toast Saga

Part Three - My Girl Likes To Party All The Time!

“Where’s my French toast?” Casey asked as I walked to the bathroom.

“What?” I said groggily.

“My French toast, where is it?” She asked again with innocence in her voice.

“Give me a minute” I grumbled as I opened my fridge to take out the eggs and milk.

It had been a four long days since her arrival, and I was in hell. Casey was driving me crazy. She was a slob having turned my living room into a landfill of clothes and other junk. Her bathroom habits where deplorable. Every day I found my towel on the floor while hers took its place on the rack. Dishes were beginning to stack, and opened containers of food surrounded my kitchen counter.

"Casey, since you're staying here can you at least wash the dishes?" I asked earnestly.

She looked at me puzzled, like a lion looks at an ant, and said “Why don’t I just clean the dishes I used?”

As I began to protest, Casey walked past me in her thong causing my mind to go stupid. She would do this all the time. Constantly walking around my apartment in her underwear or clearly not wearing a bra under her shirt. She would wink and peck me on the cheek when my face betrayed my anger. But any overture at evolving our relationship was met with resistance.

“I want to take things slow” she whined. “You need to conquer a woman”

My feminist mind began to protest, and she hugged me tightly. Her full breasts against my chest.

“Sure” I said meekly.

I soon realized Casey had the I.Q of a raisin. She got lost to my apartment five times from the subway. She had no clue how to do her own laundry. The kicker was when while watching a documentary of the Civil War, she turned and said “David, who did we fight in the Civil War?”

“How’s the child?” Leanne asked sarcastically over the phone.

“Don’t call her that..” I replied annoyed.

“David! You need to grow a pair” Leanne hollered at me.

“But…but…boobs” I stuttered back.

“You are a jack ass..” Leanne said dryly.

Leanne was right. I knew it, but I could not stop myself from letting Casey walk all over me. Things took a turn for the worse on Halloween. Casey had made plans to go to a Brooklyn costume party with friends from Jersey. I was exhausted because of the little sleep I got taking care of the giant baby. So I opted to stay home while she partied with hot girls.

“Will you take me to Brooklyn?” Casey asked with puppy dog eyes.

“No” I grumbled “All you have to do is take the five train to the L and you're in Brooklyn”

“But I’m scared” she whined.

“Oh my God, Casey! You’ll be fine!” I yelled exhausted.

“Ok” she said meekly.

Thirty minutes later Casey knocked on my door.

“What?” I asked defeated.

“My friend Rose wants to talk to you” she said handing me the phone.

“Hello?” I said placing the phone to my ear.

“You’re not going to take her to Brooklyn?” Rose asked alarmed.

“No, she'll be fine” I answered

“I'm concerned for her safety, but if you feel so strongly about it then fine” Rose said in an accusing tone.

“Fine” I said defeated and handed the phone back to Casey.

I looked at Casey and laid out the plan. We had a maximum of two hours to get ready and get on the train. One minute more and one train ride would turn to three. Not to mention an hour commute would turn to two. She agreed to the time table, and I laid down to get some sleep while she got ready.

I closed my eyes, and darkness welcomed me.

“David? Wake up I’m ready” Casey said peeking through my bedroom door.

“Okay, what time is it?” I said pouring myself out of bed.

“It’s eleven” she replied matter of factly

“What?!” I screamed. We had missed our window by an hour. “I told you to wake me in an hour tops!”

“I know, but I couldn’t find the right scrunchy for my outfit” she said shyly.

Twenty minutes later, I sat quietly furious on the train. Sensing my rage, Casey rubbed my leg and put her head on my shoulder. The blatant attempt at manipulation only enraged me further. I wanted to strangle that frat boy. By the third transfer, I was resigned to my fate. It would be a four hour commute round trip. Once we got to the L, I looked at Casey, and made her promise to call me when she got to the party. She nodded and jumped on the train.

I guess since the L train is not scary since its full of white kids I thought to myself.

Once I arrived back home, I looked at my phone for messages. I had no voice mails. I called Casey and got no response. My mind quickly began to panic. I started to picture Caseys lifeless body in a ditch. Every episode of C.S.I flashed through my head. I began to hear her mothers sobs and questions of why I did not protect her baby.

Needless to say, I could not sleep. I called Casey numerous times, staring at the phone for any sign of life. My patience paid off at five am. When she burst through the door, giggling like a mad woman.

“Oh David! I had so much fun! Rose and her friends were so cool!” She sang.

“Yeah that’s great GET TO BED!” I snapped.

I stormed off to my room. Casey oblivious to my feelings. I threw myself in bed, content that the worst was over. I was sadly mistaken. The worst was yet to come…

2012-09-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

The French Toast Saga

Part Two - Red Flags Galore

“Yay! French Toast!” Casey squealed as she poured maple syrup on my creation.

It had been two days since she arrived in my apartment and it already felt like two months. Casey had gotten herself a two week ticket to NYC. The first morning of her stay, being the dutiful host that I was, I cooked her breakfast. Fluffy French toast with scrambled eggs and sausage. The first day was spent getting her established in my neighborhood. I lived only 4 blocks away from the subway and two bus routes passed by my home. I taught her how to get a metro card. I taught her what gypsy cabs looked like and the average fares. I taught her how to use my TV to switch between watching cable and a DVD.

I taught her all these things which she then proceeded to forget the following day. She didn’t forget that I cooked. That she remembered! When she woke up the following morasking she asked where her breakfast was. I groggily got up after only sleeping five hours from my night shift. I then began to make her breakfast as she stared at me from my guest futon.

“Are we going to the Halloween store?” She asked as she tore into her French toast.

I had forgotten that Halloween was only a few days away. Casey had friends from New Jersey who had invited her to a house party in Brooklyn. I soon learned that Casey was exceedingly specific about how she looked, and her costume had to be perfect. She was supposed to be dressed like an obscure 1980’s pop singer who’s name I forget but who’s work Casey was determined had been stolen by Madonna. Since Casey had forgotten how to walk to the subway (4 blocks in a straight line) from my home. I was forced to accompany her to the biggest costume shop in the city.

The city was a buzz with Halloween madness. Normally I would be more exited. I was barely conscious, the previous night I had slept only four hours. I left Casey as she was running around the costume shop like a five year old. I only had an hour before my shift began. I was actually looking forward to being screamed at by dumb customers. It would have been a step up from having to be at Caseys beck and call.

Later that night, I arrived to find my futon filled with anime action figures, DVDs, Gothic jewelry and comic books.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“Oh my God! There was a comic store right next to the costume shop! You cant find these things in Puerto Rico” She squealed.

“Uh, Casey can you afford this stuff?” I asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Casey tried to change the subject by telling me about the Vampirella comics and how her new jewelry would make her costume complete.

“Wait, Casey seriously how did you afford this?” I said trying to calculate the sum of all this junk.

“I have money, besides you can help me out right?” She said sweetly.

“Oh well, when you put it like that then…WAIT WHAT?!” I said in shock.

Casey quickly got out of bed. She was wearing a tank top and purple underwear. She pressed her boobs to my chest, and my hand lightly grazed her thigh only to discover she was wearing a thong. My free will was fading fast.

“David, cant we talk about this later? Lets watch a movie. We can cuddle…” She said coyly.

I was done for. I was her bitch, and she knew it. We quickly got in the futon and watched one of her anime DVDs. Her body pressed closely against mine. At that moment, I knew I was being used, but I just didn’t care. I would have no idea that the next few days would not only try my patience but my sanity itself…

2012-09-16T18:07:00.000-07:00

The French Toast Saga

Part One - The Coming Of The Busty Blond

“I got you a gift” Juan proclaimed with a proud face.

“A hooker?” I said sarcastically as I flipped through one of his latest comics.

“Close! A Girl!” He smiled mischievously.

I gave Juan a puzzled look. He had just arrived to stay with me for the local comic con. Having opted to stay in Puerto Rico; when I had left the island years ago. I was confused. I was one of the few people he knew in NYC. He was also married, so his circle of single friends was his brother and me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked with a serious face.

“Look!” He pointed at my computer screen.

Upon further inspection, Juan had loaded a Facebook profile. Before my eyes laid a busty blond with a mischievous smile on her face. I quickly looked through her pictures. It was typical Facebook girl photos. The girl was in skimpy outfits or in questionable poses.

“Her name is Casey and she is a geek” Juan said with glee.

“Really?” I said as my eyes were clicking away at her photos.

“Oh yeah, she’s your type” Juan said cracking open a coke.

“What’s my type again?” I said. Jesus! This girl had a lot of pictures.

“Big breasted and geeky.” Juan said with a laugh.

I was not going to disagree with him. The power of boobs always had a power over my free will. I had long given up hope in fighting it. My eyes would always glaze over and my mind would turn to pudding. This is why I avoided strip clubs. In my college years. I must have wasted my tuition with glittered boobs in my face.

Her name was Casey and Juan had met her in the local Puerto Rico comic scene. She was one of the many anime fans on the island. She was a staple at the local hot topic. She probably kept most comic stores in business. Juan quickly put me in contact with her over the phone. Casey’s clueless voice cried out over the receiver.

“You live in New York?!” She gushed.

“Yeah, I have been living on my own for five years now.” I replied, my eyes still glued on her pictures.

“Oh, I want to live in New York so badly!” She squealed.

“Yeah, its pretty cool.”

“Can I come visit?” She asked coyly.

“I'm sorry?” I replied closing my computer screen.

“I want to come to New York. Can I stay with you? I promise it will only be a few days!” She asked timidly.

Now any rational person would have told someone they had known for three days to fuck off. But before I could do this a little devil frat boy appeared on my shoulder.

“Dude! Say yes! You are going to totally play with those pillows !” The frat boy said downing a beer.

“But I don’t know her..” I replied

“Don’t be a little bitch!” He said annoyed. “When have you ever had a chick beg to stay with you! Its gonna happen. Trust me” He said as he poured more beer into his cup.

“Sure Casey, you can stay with me as long as you like” I replied in a daze. Pictures of her running topless in my apartment floated around in my noggin.

“Yay! I will book my ticket right away” She squealed.

As I held my receiver in my hand, I wondered what I had just unleashed upon my world. The frat boy in my head told me not to worry. But deep within my soul, I felt like I had just made a deal with the devil. Never in my wildest imagination would I have ever dreamed what happened next….

2012-09-10T08:50:00.001-07:00

Speed Dating or Russian Roulette YOU Decide

This past weekend I dragged my friend Angel to a speed dating event. For months, he had been complaining about how he could never meet anyone. He blamed his accent, his weight (bastards skinnier than me) and his ethnicity over his lack of dates. I knew this was complete bullshit. He had fallen into a negative view of the world. When we fall into this, it prevents us from achieving our dreams. I knew the best way to knock him out of this funk, was to throw him in the deep end of the pool.

So I bought two tickets to NYC Speed Dating Events. NYC S.D.E seems to be the largest speed dating company in the city. They are constantly throwing events for single people of all types of ages and backgrounds.

Once I told Angel about it, he was game. He had been curious about speed dating for a while now. Since back home, we don’t have events like this. The closest single event back in Puerto Rico is happy hour and karaoke at the local bar. The day of the event, Angel arrived late. This is something that annoys me to no end about him. But his job in finance tends to keep him from being on time for anything. The bar was in alphabet city and was a little tricky to find. Once I saw an overweight guy playing with his Iphone (complete with a Nintendo cover) in the window, I knew we were in the right place.

So let me explain how speed dating works for you rookies. Basically 15 to 30 girls are seated in a room while each guy is forced to have a mini date in five minutes. Once the five minutes are over the bell rings and the guy has to go to the next girl. Sounds pretty straightforward, right?

Well here are my thoughts on the event…

Before the event started I scoped out the room. I saw that Angel and I were pretty much the best guys there. Most of the men had come in under or overdressed. I know this sounds rather arrogant, but I felt like we were the two most interesting dudes there. This of course changed once the two jocks came into the room. At that point, I thought to myself, just have fun, because I felt there was no way my beer belly could compete against a six pack.

All the women there looked stunning. I don’t think there was a woman there who I would not date. They all were nicely dressed to the heels.

The event got started probably twenty minutes after we arrived. The host just herded us to our seats but made no announcement of the rules or even if we began. Suddenly I found myself in front of a cute girl, and I just began to talk.

Let me pause here and explain my strategy.

So I knew exactly how every guy was going to start out each date.

“So where are you from? What do you do?”

By the third guy, I am sure the ladies would be extremely annoyed by those questions. So I tried to ask off the wall questions that would showcase my strange sense of humor. I am still debating whether this was the best strategy. I would ask questions like…

“What were you like as a kid? Did you have an imaginary friend? Do you still talk to them? Should I have concerns?”

“Would you survive a zombie apocalypse or would you be zombie food?

“Whats your favorite movie? Please don’t say The Notebook”.

“What was your worst date? This does not count”.

Now as for the ladies. I don’t think I met one single dud in the entire night. Trust me, I would be honest if I had encountered one. Every woman in the room was not only gorgeous but fascinating. Most were down for my strange sense of humor, and one even gave me a run for my money. If I could not date any of them, then I would have loved to have had their friendships because they were all exceedingly cool people to be around.

One gripe I had for the night though. Some weird horny old man came in off the street and bought his way into the event. He would ask the girls if their bras opened from the front or back. He would begin to dance for them in the middle of a conversation. Plus he would stay past the ring of the bell, eating up someone else’s time. I don’t think the organizers should have let him in. This was an event that we all paid for ahead of time, and he was obviously over the age range.

Afterwards, Angel was a changed man. I saw more confidence in him and a spring in his step. A few days later we both got e-mails from our matches. Angel got quite a few young ladies e-mailing him. I got one. I guess I wasn’t the hit I thought I was. Still the person who e-mailed me was the best of the bunch in my opinion, and I look forward to getting to know her.

So to sum up here are my thoughts on the whole speed dating sport.

1) Ladies be sure to go to have a fabulous time. The quality of guys at these events is not exactly breathtaking. Still I think at work, you will have amusing stories to tell around the water cooler.

2) Guys dress to impress. Don’t wear stupid t-shirt and jeans. Also, don’t go overboard with a suit and tie. Try to find a middle ground.

3) Gentlemen please don’t ask “Where are you from? What do you do?” think outside the box with your questions. This is not a job interview. Make them laugh and have an enjoyable time.

4) Event organizers do your job. Organize! Tell us the rules, give us a heads up on when we are starting and don’t let random psychos off the street join in.

I think I would do speed dating in the future. Not anytime soon though. Let's see how my match turns out first. Still I did accomplish my mission in helping my best friend in getting out of his shell. Which to me is truly all that matters.

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

2012-09-04T16:55:00.000-07:00

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

“David! You need to stop calling me. I tried to be nice, but you are clearly not getting it. I DO NOT WANT TO DATE YOU. You are too intense!” Amy said angrily.

“But…Wait…You don’t understand” I stammered back, but it was too late. She had hung up. I held the phone in my hand in disbelief. A well of emotions surged in me shame, anger, and embarrassment. How did I wind up in this situation? Well, for that we would need to turn back the clock about two weeks prior to that angry phone call...

The following is a tale of caution and stupidity. The names have been changed to protect me from being cornered in a dark alley by an angry chunky girl. If you suffer from a spit reflex, please put your beverages down before we begin. If you suffer from a heart condition…then that must suck, I feel sorry for you.

My road to discovering the perfect method for ruining a date started out innocently enough. As I checked my e-mail for the day; between the many e-mails promising me a bigger member and the personal e-mail of the prince of Nigeria. Laid an e-mail from Okcupid. “Today’s Quiver Matches! Our Staff Robot Thinks You’ll Like Them!!” Intrigued by the possibility of a terminator choosing my mate. I opened the e-mail. I was immediately struck in the head with a digital arrow of love. There in the e-mail was a girl who could have been my twin. We both loved comic books, science fiction movies, obsessed over terrible TV (like Cop Rock), and we were both Doctor Who fans. This girl was my soul mate!

Step One - Tell Them How Perfect You Are Together

The groundwork for truly screwing your chances with the perfect girl start before the date even begins. This is the preview portion of the date where you are vetted. You have to be careful because you want to raise some flags but not raise a banner that says “I am desperate please marry me.” You have to fly just bellow the freak line, but just high enough to raise some concerns. Not scare her right off the bat. If you follow the first rule, then we guarantee that you will pass the pre screening with flying colors.
Her name was Amy, and she was every bit the geek I had dreamed of. She had Star Wars & Trek figures in her room, she would quote Josh Whedon at length, and she even hosted a Doctor Who event at local bars. I had hit the mother load of geekdom. It's quite rare that I find someone who rivals my geekness. I mean I have a ThunderCats sword for Christ’s sake! Yet the nerdom was strong in this one. After a few messages we quickly began to speak on the phone and plan our date. I was excited, so excited that I had to tell her, I liked her every five minutes.

“You know I dig you right?” I said enthusiastically

“Yeah, sure your great” She replied quite clueless of the disaster heading her way.

We decided to get to know each other at the local Starbucks near her job. I arrived 40 minutes early and began to down espressos, which in hindsight was a mistake. My nerves became amplified, and I was jittery. I think, the closest thing I can describe the way I looked would be a humming bird on crack. As soon as she walked in, I pounced.

“HEY!” I yelled, the patrons of the Starbucks quickly looked at me, shrugged and went back to writing their screenplays.

“Uh, hi” she said quite startled.

“Oh my God! You are so beautiful!” I said excitedly.

“Uh, thank you” She said as the sinking feeling was starting to set in.

We sat down and began to talk. Well she talked, I mostly smiled and stared. She told me about her job at Best Buy, about her roommate, and about her x who had dumped her after 3 years. Because, he did not see her as a long term option.

“I wouldn’t dump you! You're perfect!” I said my eyes getting bigger with wonder and caffeine.

“Um, thanks?” She said as her smile was beginning to fade rapidly.

Step Two - Get Physical Fast

Now, you may be tempted to be a gentleman and respect a woman’s personal space or wait for the appropriate moment to get physical. Balderdash! You are the tiger, and she is the gazelle! You must quickly attack and catch them off guard. Being a close talker, holding her hand and maybe even going in for a kiss. All these are perfect options to strike terror in a woman. Escalating the physical aspect of your date as fast as possible with no regard for the woman’s comfort; is essential in ruining the possibility of romance between you.

I took her hand, and she stared at it as if a snake had just slithered on to the table. I could tell that she had stopped listening to me to observe this. Still, I did not remove the hand. In my mind the reward out weighed the risk. I needed her to see me as more than a friend. To do that I needed to be physical. At least that is the rationality of my actions at the time. In reality I was insecure of how she felt for me. I had felt a void coming from her and out of fear took the second step far too soon. Had I just trusted myself maybe things would not have derailed so badly.

Step Three - Compliment Them…A LOT

A blunder many people make in trying to ruin a date is to not compliment. This is a mistake because it can be seen as being hard to get. Over complimenting is truly the best strategy. The more often the better, if you can throw in a silent creepy moment after the compliment then you are golden!

“Gosh you are perfect” I said with my foot tapping rapidly on the ground.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU IDIOT?” my inner voice cried

“Thanks” she said meekly

“I cant believe you're single! You are just phenomenal” I said with a wide smile and wider eyes.

“STOP IT YOU JACKASS! YOU’RE FUCKING IT UP!” My inner voice shrieked. It was as if my rational mind had left my body, and I was watching myself speak with no filter whatsoever.

“Yeah….ok” She said glancing at the door.

Somehow, we wound up speaking about something other than how much I was attracted to her. It turned out we had more in common following the same comedians. Even having the same philosophies about the art of comedy. It was a very stimulating conversation.

Of course, I had to destroy it.

Step Four - Kiss Them When They Clearly Do Not Want To

Ah, the kiss, if done right on the first date it can be a memorable romantic memory you both shall have for the rest of your lives. But, in order to avoid this and make it a memory you both shall regret, for eternity certain guidelines must be met. First you have to pick the worst time to do it. Examples include five minutes after saying hello, as she is picking spinach out of her teeth or my personal favorite in front of her parents; whom you have just met.

“Can I ask a request from you?” I said with a shy grin.

“PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” My inner voice begged.

“Sure” she said innocently

“Can I kiss you?” I blurted out.

“OH MY GOD! YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!” My inner voice cried out, as if a million voices had cried out in terror.

“What?” She said surprised.

“I really want to kiss you, you are so cute” I rambled.

“OH GOD! THIS IS SO FUCKED!” My inner voice said pounding its metaphorical head against the metaphorical wall.

“Oh…okay” she said sweetly

We pecked. The kiss itself left no impression on her face. I could have been kissing a statue in central park for all I knew. I knew at this point I had passed the point of no return. I had set any chance of redeeming this date ablaze. Frankly, I had poured 20 gallons of gasoline on it, lit it on fire, and thrown a grenade on it for proper measure.

I went through the motions for the rest of the date. We had dessert, and I walked her to the subway. As we waited for our respected trains, she established the soft rejection.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to take a break from dating. After my recent break up, I’m just not ready.” she said looking at the ground.

“That’s cool, I think you are awesome! Even if, we are just friends” I said earnestly.

“Sure” She said and we made plans for the following week to see a movie.

As the train doors opened, I sealed my fate when I impulsively gave her a quick peck goodbye on the lips. The last I saw of her was a shocked look on her face as the doors closed and the train pulled away from the station. I was oblivious to what had just occurred. In my delusional mind, I believed that this horrible date could have been overcome. That I would have another geeky friend to spend time with.

My inner voice had hung itself.

Step Five - Call, Email, & Text Until You Get A Response

Post date you need to ensure that you have successfully scared away your date. After all you could be dealing with a pesky do-gooder who gives you the benefit of the doubt. You know who I am talking about, those people who are polite and are willing to look past your flaws to see the good qualities you possess. This is why you need to barrage them with all forms of communications. You must get an answer! Let your insecurities run wild! Use these marvelous forms of communications and you will ensure that your date is fully ruined!

It's funny how your mind works. This is not my first rodeo. I had done this many times before. but, how can I explain what possessed me to do what I did next? Maybe deep down I have some kind of self destructive streak or maybe its just that I did not want to lose. I called first, and she actually responded! I know, I was surprised as well. But she was quite positive to the possibility of meeting up. Looking back though, this was just phantom hope. Because it wound up being a stalling tactic. Maybe she thought I would eventually get a clue. But I am David, I am the king of self delusions (I have the crown to prove it) and I was not ready to give up. So I Texted and when she didn’t respond I e-mailed. Then I called again…and again…and again. Which brings us back to the beginning of this post.

You know, believe it or not I am not stupid. But, I am my worst enemy. I bought into the hype. I fell for the oldest myth in the world. That “the one” exists. I believed it so hard, that I drove a poor woman out of her friggin mind. There is this movie called Seven Girlfriend starring Tim Daily. He plays some schmuck who has a meltdown and decides to visit all his seven x-girlfriends. In order find out why it did not work out. Why they were not his true love. There is this great line where a girl tells him “There is no "the one". There are just people you are good with and people you are not. You meet someone who is good and you make it work.”

That is something to take to heart. Since we are children, we are fed this fairytale that there is one person who was made for you. But like Santa, its all a bunch of bullshit. Yet we hold on to it, we write books, sing songs and make movies about this myth. We drive ourselves so crazy trying to find our soul mates; that we wind up in Starbucks making an ass out of ourselves. So if you let go of the dream, then maybe you honestly will start moving forward to a healthy love life. After all, we all have to grow up sometimes.

2012-08-28T17:45:00.000-07:00

I'm Not A Foodie, I'm Just Fat A.K.A Roasted Chicken With A Side Of Broken Heart

It was a chilly April day, and I stood in front of what used to be Virgin Records. Now a casualty of the shitty economy, it had been converted to a Citibank. Yet another reminder of how NYC was slowly transforming into a banal wasteland. I was nervous, yet excited; a woman had sought me out online! This was a rarity in that women do not normally seek us penis wearers. Rather, we are the ones on the other end of the keyboard hoping they haven't closed their Okcupid account. Filled with disgust, after a barrage of losers before us had sent them one sentenced e-mails with horrible grammar proposing sex or pictures of their member in its photoshopped glory.

Her name was Glory and once I saw her, I was smitten. Her smile could light up a room and her laugh made my heart go gooey. I should have known this would end in disaster. The chemistry was off the charts or at least I thought so. That is always the mistake isn't it? Believing that there was a little David in all of us and that if we all just accepted it, my life would be so much easier.

The reality is, I will probably never know what was in her head. Because, the only little David in anyone was in my pants.

"I'm a foodie" she said smiling while she took a bite of her chicken.

"Oh my God me too!" I lied. I was not a foodie, I was just fat. I never adventured into the land of exotic meals. In fact like the hippo, I was a creature of habit. Pizza for dinner, while I laid in my bed like a wounded cow on the side of the road.

We shared dinner, she tore into her roasted chicken. While I nibbled on my hamburger, nerves suppressing my appetite. Glory was a fellow Latino who had lived all her life in NYC. It was neat to have someone to relate too, when it came to talking about little idiosyncrasies of the Latino culture. I built this image of her as a very sweet, kind and honest girl. The type of girl you take home to mom and bring in to your circle of friends. The kind who worries about you when you're sick and is there for you in your moments of need.

I was in a delusional state of blissful ignorance. I should have kept my feet on the ground. Instead I was halfway to Saturn only fated to crash into Uranus or Myanus rather. We spoke often on the phone. As always, I ignored the obvious red flags. She had once rejected a lousy date by telling the man that she was pregnant with her x-boyfriends child. Instead of say, running for the hills when I heard this, my bliss only made me see this as charming. She never had a relationship last more than six months? Heck, it be gratifying to be the first guy to break that barrier.

Truly I was a nimrod.

The second date we did the classic dinner and a movie. While the Muppets sang about my nostalgic childhood, I gently reached over and held her hand. I did not notice she had tensed up. Once we got to dinner, she began to recite the "I need things to be slow" speech. It's funny what your mind is willing to put up with in the search for love. You look over glaring warnings that you are careening toward the cliff of disappointment. "Yes! I will wait! You're worth it" my inner moron screamed.

It's times like these I feel as if I missed the class on human interactions 101. Because, my more experienced friends tend to laugh at me once I get to the speech portion of the story. The "I want to take things slow" speech tends to mean you freaked me out and I do not want to be near you anymore. Does it always mean that? Of course not but, maybe I missed some subtle inflection that would have told me the difference between honesty and rejection.

I will never know for sure. All I know is that my phone calls after that date were not answered. Excluding a hasty "I will call you back," for two weeks I heard nothing from her. I was now demoted to texting hell.

I hate texting, it is so impersonal and too easy to fall into a dating limbo. It is the bane of my existence. Texting has become the number one form of communication between people. It's so easy to lose touch with someone. Intentional or not, all you have to do is not respond. It is yet another barrier between folks.

She then drops the bombshell “My grandfather has a 50/50 chance of living” she texts me. The following portion of the story could either make me look like a complete asshole or schmuck. I leave it up to you fellow reader to decide which category I fall under.

Shocked, I offer my support and prayers for her grandfathers predicament. She thanks me and tells me that she is just not in any capacity to continue to date in this trying time. Let's be frank, who would be up for a date in central park while your grandfather hangs on to life by a thread? I may be dense but I am not a complete idiot. Well maybe 80% of the time…

What a shitty Christmas! I thought to myself, as I put down the phone. I had thought I had some doozies in my time. One involved a goat, a chicken and pancakes but that is a story for another time. I felt so ashamed. Here I was bothering this poor girl while she watched over her grandfather in his hospital bed. I pictured her parents crying as they spoke to the doctor. Who you couldn’t hear over the Sarah Mclachland music playing over them.

Imagine my shock a few weeks later. When I am reading her latest blog post to see a picture of her serving her grandfather fresh cookies out of the oven. Oh and she wasso over this, that she included a picture of herself smiling with a drink in her hand celebrating the holidays. After all why shouldn’t she be celebrating we were all witnesses to a miracle. Praise Jesus and Santa! It’s a holiday wish come true. Now If only I could have that million dollars and a supermodel with low standards; show up on my doorstep.

Dear reader, what do you think? Am I an asshole for being so cynical? That I don’t believe someone can go from having a 50/50 shot at living to eating oatmeal cookies in a matter of weeks? Or, am I just a schmuck for not seeing this coming or holding on to the hope that it may be possible such a enormous recovery?

This are the questions that keep me up at night. Am I just the victim of unfortunate timing or the target of a coward with a great imagination? Maybe that girl next door with the incredible smile had a dark side I never saw or maybe she just never existed in the first place. The world may never know…

Steak, Tears & Bambi's Dead Mother

2012-02-15T14:45:00.001-08:00

"I'm sorry! I seriously thought I would be okay" Charlotte began to say between sobs. " I haven't gotten like this in years...I honestly am a normal person." That last sentence said it all, because in my experience when someone said that they were normal, they were far from it.

Her white cheeks had turned beet red and tears where flowing like a monsoon. Between sobs and attempts at words, Charlotte began to make a squeaky rubber frog sound. The sound began to echo throughout the restaurant. The murmur of a crowd that had filled the restaurant had now emptied the room. We were the center of attention. I was slowly shrinking out of embarrassment. Our waitress was now surrounded by her coworkers staring at me. The look on her face was full of judgement and hatred toward me. In her mind (and most of the restaurant) I was the asshole who was dumping his girlfriend in a public place. Maybe I was a cheater who just confessed to bagging half the east coast or maybe I just told her that I would never marry her.

The truth was none of the above, in fact this was our first date. The cause of her hysterics had nothing to do with me. In fact, it was the owner of the steak house who was at fault.

I had met Charlotte on a E-harmony. The site is the first you think of when you picture online dating. I had heard horror stories about web dating but never believed them. After all, I had dabbled with dating on the net back home. I even wound up in a few relationships. Good ones too!

Yet here I was sitting across the table from a hysterical woman.

"Should we leave?" I whispered.

"No!" she screamed. "I said I am fine!"

"You're sobbing in a restaurant, I don't think you're fine" I hissed back.

She began to sob louder and uncontrollably. The crowd began to murmur and point fingers at me.

"Would you like me to call someone for you?" the waitress said with a concern motherly tone. She surprised me, as I had not heard her walk up behind me.

"I don't think..." I began to say.

"I wasn't talking to you sir." she said coldly as she handed Charlotte tissues.

"No, I'm fine...really" She mumbled as she brought the napkin to her eyes.

When I met Charlotte an hour earlier, there was no indication that I would wind up in a restaurant full of angry patrons. Her profile seemed normal. In fact it screamed it. Charlotte worked in a law firm as a secretary. She had two cats. A one bedroom apartment on the lower west side that she shared with a roommate. She was an only child who grew up in Buffalo. In fact even her appearance was pretty average. Don't get me wrong, she was terribly cute, but her attire was nothing I had not seen a million times before. She was wearing a wool sweater and skirt that fit her slightly frumpy body. She had a small silver pendant around her neck, and her auburn hair was loose and nicely styled. I would say the most striking thing about her appearance was her chipmunk cheeks.

The date started nicely enough. We met at union square and walked around enjoying the summer evening. The street vendors were winding down their day of selling organic ostrich meat and over priced hand made wind chimes. We did a little window shopping as we passed establishments like Forbidden Planet and Strands. We spoke about her life and my career. It wasn't a dreadful start for a first date. Then as if guided by fate, it began to rain. We quickly ran to the restaurant, and that's when I found myself in this predicament.

"What did you do?!" Our waitress had now fully turned on me. She stared at me with full "men suck" eyes. I could tell that my crying date had struck a cord with her. Maybe it conjured images of her x-boyfriend making out with her best friend. Of course, while her copy of "The Notebook" was playing in the background.

"Nothing!" I said in my defense.

"Yeah, right..." She said sarcastically. From the look in her eyes, her x was now on second base as Ryan Gosling confessed his love to Rachel McAdams.

"No it's true...it's not his fault.." Charlotte said meekly between whimpers.

"It's the animal heads" I said with a sigh.

"What?" the waitress asked with disbelief.

I pointed to the walls that were surrounded with stuffed animal heads. Bambi stared at me from behind Charlotte with an eternal surprised look on it's face. I suddenly pictured my head mounted on the wall with a confused look on my face. It seemed like a more appealing experience than being on this train wreck of a date.

It took ten minutes to convince the waitress that Charlotte was indeed having a meltdown due to her fear of animal heads. Had I known, I certainly would not have taken her to a steak house. Things began to calm down, once we were moved toward the back; where we were away from the dearly departed. Not to mention other customers. You can imagine that even without the hysterics the damage had been done, and we ate in awkward silence. Charlotte only began to speak as we walked to the subway. It was mostly small talk, and as we said goodbye she looked in my eyes and said with complete sincerity

"I had a great time, I hope we can do it again"

At that moment, I realized that dating in NYC would be like nothing I had ever encountered before.

Spaghetti & Meatballs

2012-01-22T18:58:00.000-08:00

"So how does this work, again?" I asked while staring at Damian's cake pop.

"I pay Grouper twenty dollars, they go on my Facebook and match me to a girl who has a similar profile. They claim, they match me to someone with similar interests and attractiveness. So they bring two friends, and I bring two friends. It's a triple blind date. Grouper even picks the restaurant where we meet. We won't even know until the day of the date." Damien replied while he moved his cake pop away from my reach.

"So basically, you want me to give you twenty dollars in the hope that a group of strangers will set you up with your perfect woman, and I just have to hope she's not one of these shallow people who surrounds themselves with ugly obnoxious friends so they can look good?" I replied secretly cursing him for buying my favorite flavor. Birthday cake...damn him...

"Pretty much" He said cheerfully while taking a bite out of said pastry, who's name shall never again be spoken.

"You do know this could be a disaster." I replied.

"So you don't want to do it?" He said while he cleaned his face with a napkin.

"No, this sounds so insane that I cant say no."

Next thing I know, I find myself walking with Damien and his friend Waldo to a restaurant on east 50th street. I haven't known Waldo for exceptionally long and other than his annoying habit of texting while we are watching a movie, he seems like a pretty stand up guy.

Halfway there (out of mostly boredom) we come up with subtle codes, to secretly, communicate with each other while on the date. Here, is a basic breakdown...

"I love pickles!!" Means that the date is going fantastic.

"Pickles...meh...." Means that we are still on the fence when it comes to our opinions of the date.

Finally, "I hate pickles!!!!" Means this is a disaster, and I am scared that I will wind up in a bathtub full of ice, missing a kidney. It doesn’t take a group of expert code breakers to see what we are doing...

So with that brilliant plan, we entered the restaurant in mid town. The place was tiny, and you could tell at one point it used to be a straightforward house full of memories of a time when Manhattan was full of real people and not what passes for humanity in the city nowadays.

The first person to greet us was Eleanor, who I was immediately taken aback by how pretty she was. A little too pretty to be honest with you. The kind of pretty that makes you immediately look around the restaurant to make sure you were not on candid camera. Eleanor was exceedingly sweet. It turned out according to grouper, she was Damien’s ideal match. So you may be wondering how did they match them up? Was it for similar interests? Was it similar personalities? To be frank, not really. So how did grouper match them? Well from what we could tell, they both worked in finance, and that was about the extent of their research. Maybe the "research team" quickly looked at their Facebook pictures and said, yeah i could see them as a couple. But, to be frank I think I am giving them the benefit of the doubt.

Whatever the case maybe, Eleanor soon introduced us to Jeanette. Who i was immediately smitten by, she was pretty, she was smart and most of all she seemed like a sweet heart. Which not surprisingly is kind of hard to find in NYC these days. Jeanette was a consultant and seemed to be pretty excited about our date. Eleanor although exceptionally sweet and outgoing; I got the feeling that her hopes of meeting Mr. Right tonight were evaporating in front of her eyes.

Waldo did not help matters when he introduced Damien as a comic book writer. The expression on Eleanor and Jeanette's face was priceless. Unless you are a fellow geek or nerd, its only natural to look at Damien and picture him wearing Spock ears and large rimmed glasses with a t-shirt that says "Han Shot First." I quickly had to chime in Damien's resume. This was in order to calm their fears that we would be talking about who was the best Batman (Adam West.)

At this point our final date arrived, Britney who like the rest of the young ladies was stunning. My impression of Britney was that she was a free spirit. This is what my nerdy brain calls the trinity. Basically you have a sweetheart, a hot nerdy girl and a free spirit. I see this a lot in Manhattan, I actually think its pretty cute. No matter how old we get we never get over our childhood habits of making friends.

I quickly realized that both Damien and Waldo were not used to New York dating. They still had the dating perceptions of back home. Where brutal honesty and black/white views of the social scene are the norm. Somehow I was now in the odd position that I was the NY dating veteran. It sounds arrogant I know, but unfortunately we now lived in a neurotic Woody Allen world. Back home you could mention that you were divorced and had a 5 year old daughter on a first date. This would be seen as sincere and upfront, quite frankly its the gentleman thing to do. It would work in your favor. Here, though, it just freaks most folks out.

Still I tried to help out and tell jokes, brag about my friends and just keep things light and fun. We all were having a fabulous time, the only draw back was the restaurant itself. Apparently this was a new place because we were constantly pestered by the host to order drinks. A common encounter would go like this.....

"So then as I was saving the orphans from the fire..."

"Hey guys! So we have some lovely rum fresh from Venezuela, it was distilled by an elderly couple who only have sex on the winter of every blood red moon. It has a herby ground taste that reminds you of your first pet.... "

"Well that sounds terrific but all I want is..."

"We also have an assortment of exquisite wines, to just look at the menu it will be 20 dollars, most of the wines are cultivated in brazil by a blind one armed Mexican child named Pacito, his real name is Brian, but we call him Pacito which he hates but it makes the wine taste so urban."

"Yeah well I would just like a.."

"We also have a liquor who's name is unpronounceable, we don't know where exactly it came from it just showed up on our doorstep one day, it has a minty coconut taste, and if we talk about it in a negative way we fear that it will devour our souls..."

"Can I just have a freaking diet coke?!"

"What kind of diet coke would you like? New Coke, Crystal Coke? Vanilla Diet Coke, Coke with the C faded away? A coke with a Santa printed on the side of it?..."

"Oh God Damn it!"

I found myself talking to Britney quite a bit. We both had a love of film, and it turns out she works in promotion for Broadway. It was neat, and I honestly felt we were all having a marvellous time. Then I went to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror and reality hit me like a freight train. My hair was scruffy, I had horrible bags under my eyes due to lack of sleep (not to mention allergies.) My beard needed a trim, and even though this was a new shirt; I might have just as well have picked it out of a thrift store.

I began to go over the facts in my head as I looked in the mirror. They were living in fancy apartments in the east village. Their rent would probably be something I made in a year. Their closets were probably filled with clothes with labels like Gucci, Armani, or designers who's name I would never know in my lifetime. They spoke about spending the summer in Spain or Argentina, how they would visit these countries on a regular basis not only for pleasure but due to work. The most exotic place I ever visited was Costa Rica, and I had to save up for a year to do it. I didn't even stay in a fancy hotel. Hell, if it wasn't for a coupon I found online; I probably would never had even gone. This wasn’t me, having low self-esteem or putting them on a pedestal.

These women were lovely, they were sweet, they had no egos about them, and I would have loved to have had the chance to take any one of them out but, I had to face facts. They were from a different world, a world that I could only get a glimpse into, but I could never live in. It was a moment in time that could never be repeated, both our universes had collided in a freak accident, and we shared the same pocket of time, but it was a once in a lifetime event. At the end of the night, no matter how amusing or cute we were. We would turn into pumpkins. Life just couldn't let it happen.

So for the rest of the night, I smiled, made them laugh, and i took advantage to enjoy the time both our worlds overlapped. It was gratifying to pretend that we dint live in a world of social class. Were we could be the tramp sharing a meatball with the lady.

And at the end of the night, when we said our goodbyes and shared our contact information. I looked at them and spoke from my heart.

"I had a great time tonight, and I hope to hear from all of you. But, if not then it was still a pleasure to share in your company."

So as we walked home that night and the guys talked about who was the sweetest or who was the prettiest. All I could think about was that for one little moment, I got to play in a world I would never normally be a part of. Sure, we tramps can complain that we should be able to a share a spaghetti & meatball with a lady more often.

But its OK if we don't, there is nothing wrong with that. Dating someone should not be a statement against society, If two people dig each other and can see themselves in a relationship regardless of their station in life, then kudos for them and if not that’s their personal choice. I’m just glad I was able to live in that world for just a little bit. Even if I never got to push a meatball with my nose....

Chillis Baby Back Ribs & The Worst Date Of My Life

2011-12-09T10:58:00.000-08:00

“So how long do you think it will be before we get married?” she said as she began to flip through the radio stations.

“What?!” I shrieked as I tried not to veer off the road by the surprise of the question.

“Well I’ll be thirty in three years, and I want to have a baby before I turn thirty. I figure we can date for a year and then get married. Once we are moved in we can enjoy our time together for about a year before you give me a baby. What do you think?” She replied casually as she finally settled on the easy listening station. An Air Supply fan, I figured as much.

“Um…I suppose that sounds like a plan” I said weakly. I felt a cold chill go up my spine and felt rather light headed. I am pretty sure that at twenty three, I was in no danger of getting a heart attack, but my heart was racing. How did I wind up on the worst first date I had ever been on. Well as strange as it sounded it was all the result of just trying to find a job.

My father had gotten fed up with watching me trying to organize my comic book collection and constantly ask him for gas money. As a result, I found myself in an employment agency. I had roped my best friend Charlie to join me. While we were waiting to be interviewed, we both struck up a conversation with a brother and sister who were also tired of being broke. By some miracle, I had wound up getting her number. Her name was Sandra, and she was a recent transplant from Brooklyn, New York. An aspiring singer, Sandra had decided to leave New York to take a break from the fast paced life of the big apple. We set a date for the following Saturday for dinner and a movie.

At first the date began well, almost humdrum. We saw a film and had dinner. We spoke about general first date subjects. It wasn’t until we got into my car that the first red flags began to go up. I think it was normal to assume that, after dinner, the date would be over but, that would not be the case. As soon as she got in my car she perked up and insisted that we go to the docks to watch the waves come in. We did and wound up making out a little. So that’s it right? Date over? No, because she suddenly wanted to visit Charlie just to say hello and catch up. Suddenly there I was in my friends living room with a confused Charlie making small talk with a girl he met for fifteen minutes. I am sure the one thing he wanted to ask was "why the fuck are you in my house?" Thankfully he did not get to ask that question because I quickly made goodbyes and walked her to my car.

“So I guess I better take you home now” I said as we got in my car.

“Aw do we have to? I am having so much fun” She whined, her voice was beginning to grate on me. She had a nasal high pitched tone, that at first was not a big deal but as the date began to deteriorate it quickly climbed the list of the most annoying sounds I found. It was right beneath the squeaky sound shoes make when you press a wet brake pedal on a car. It was however, above the sound of someone sucking on barbeque ribs.

“Yeah its getting late and I need to run some errands tomorrow” I replied wondering if I should have left a goodbye note for my parents at Charlie’s house.

“Okay, but there’s a problem” she said.

“What?” I replied feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“I don’t know where I live” she replied nonchalantly.

It turns out Sandra had never made an effort to memorize the way back to her mothers from pretty much anywhere. Her brother or mother usually drove her everywhere. So since, she didn’t have her own transportation, she never felt the need to remember how to go wherever. On top of this, mysteriously her mothers phone was not working and her brother had lost his cell phone. So there was no way to contact anyone for help. For a serial killer, Sandra would be the perfect victim, but for me, I felt like the other way around.

So there I was driving for over forty minutes, trying to find landmarks she remembered to jog her memory. Meanwhile, she began to drop bombshells of information of her life that she somehow forgot to mention in those phone conversations.

“I am so glad to be going out with a nice guy for once” She said with a glazed smile on her face.

“Well I am glad you think so” I said secretly cursing at myself for wandering into this situation.

“Yeah my last boyfriend was such a jerk. He was always coming around for sex and looking for money from me for drugs” She said looking out the window of my car.

“I’m sorry?” I said just chanting in my head please let it be pot.

“Yeah he was hooked on crack” She said.

Fuck me.

What do you say to that? Well my suggestion is to quickly change the subject by saying how much you love the crappy Air Supply song that was playing on the radio. From my experience, it seems to be the best choice.

“Oh I know where we are now” She said.

Oh thank you Jesus! I cried out in my head. The light at the end of the tunnel was near. This horrible date can finally be over, and the weirdness would stop. But Sandra had saved the best for last.

“I don’t want to go home” She said with a cold look on her face. In my mind, the robot from Lost in Space had suddenly appeared and began to scream DANGER! DANGER DAVID ARROYO!!!

“Why?” I said with the feeling of dread creeping over me.

“Because I hate my mother!” She screamed. Tears began to flow down her face, and the cliché of all clichés her mascara began to run.

“She was never there for me! Always out sleeping with men, leaving me to take care of my brother. I needed her in the hard times, and she just walked out on us any chance she got. Why couldn’t she just be our mother?!” She howled as she threw herself on my shoulder and began to grip me tightly.

“But now I have you, and I know you will always be there for me” she sighed.

Finally, we found her house. The robot in my head had long left once the tears began to flow, I cursed him for abandoning me. I managed to pry her off of me. I couldn’t believe that after years of wishing that I would have a woman throw herself at me, it was now something I dreaded.

“Will you call me tomorrow?” She said sweetly.

And I said the lie that we all say and hate ourselves for saying. The lie that had been told countless times over the centuries from when Ugh told Oook that he would visit her cave again. The lie that we all hate to have told to us, but that has now become a necessary evil in this world.

“Sure”

Will Love For Food

Chicken Fingers A.K.A I Do Not Speak Girl

Twizzlers and Carla Sparrow

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Seven

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Six

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Five

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Four

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Three

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part Two

Cheesecake & The Pick Up Artist Part One

I'm On TV Bitches!!!!

A Picture Says A Thousand Words

Baby Pictures

Photoshopped Pictures

Pictures with X boyfriends or Male “Best Friends”

Pictures of You In A Weird Angle

Older Pictures

Pictures of your abs or any picture without a shirt

Pictures of your car

Pictures of you badly dressed

Pictures of you with slutty good looking girls

Surprise!

I Have a Penis!

Now For Something Completely Different!

When Texting goes wrong

The French Toast Saga

Part Six - The Bitter End!

No! I Wish!

The French Toast Saga Part Five - The Silver Lining

The French Toast Saga

Part Four - The Fellowship of Jersey

The French Toast Saga

Part Three - My Girl Likes To Party All The Time!

The French Toast Saga

Part Two - Red Flags Galore

The French Toast Saga

Part One - The Coming Of The Busty Blond

Speed Dating or Russian Roulette YOU Decide

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

Step One - Tell Them How Perfect You Are Together

Step Two - Get Physical Fast

Step Three - Compliment Them…A LOT

Step Four - Kiss Them When They Clearly Do Not Want To

Step Five - Call, Email, & Text Until You Get A Response

I'm Not A Foodie, I'm Just Fat A.K.A Roasted Chicken With A Side Of Broken Heart

Steak, Tears & Bambi's Dead Mother

Spaghetti & Meatballs

Chillis Baby Back Ribs & The Worst Date Of My Life

The French Toast Saga
Part Five - The Silver Lining