Valentine's Day update...surprisingly not so destructive!

I feel that it is only fair to update all on my not too destructive behavior over the "Weekend o' Love" and I was even anti-destructive in one way.

So as mentioned before, my beloved Spaz made the trek down to the 'Big Apple' for some bonding time with yours truly, a lil' touristing and of course, a lil' debauchery. She arrived Friday late afternoon in time to get ready for night #1 of shenanigans. As we got ready we took part in some imbibing on Vodka Sodas. Once primmed and pretty for the evening we set out for some din din. We enjoyed a delish meal at Diablo Royale. We shared four taco creations and each had two of their infamous 'Ricky's'. Feeling full but buzzed, I took her out in the Village.

We hit up the Peculiar Pub (peculiarly becoming a new fave stop due to bartender Stephanie). Upon entering we were asked for our ids (god bless) and the bouncer of course had to comment, "What are you ladies up to tonight other than breaking hearts?" Good one! That was original...After rolling our eyes, we made our way into the bar observing that we probably have 10 years on the majority of the crowd.... Hoping to overcome this 'obstacle' we order up a couple beers and try to make the most of it. Spaz makes a pitstop at the ladies which leaves me time to see if there is any way we can salvage this 'amatuer night.' After hearing some girl cackle louder than a rooster, I tell Spaz its time to move on, sorry bartender Stephanie.

Next stop, 1/2 Pint. Same situation, damn NYU! In attempts of creating some interest in the evening, I whip out the good ol' blackberry and text 'little brother.' Of course he responds and of course he is at his usual watering hole. Spaz and I suck down our brewskis and grab a cab. Spaz is intrigued to meet little brother since she has heard/read the stories. We get there and wouldn't you know, he was being a jerkface. Apparently him and his two friends have something against the Irish and against the fact that I am Irish (BTW, we were at an Irish pub!). For some annoying reason, this keeps coming up in conversation. After all this, some blonde chick shows up at lil' brother's request. Spaz and I take the que, grab pizza, a cab and call it a night.

Next morning, first order of business; delete little brother from my phone, COMPLETELY (meaning not just saved number but all old texts and incoming/outgoing phone calls). Yes, despite the 'fun' that had existed previously, him treating me like dirt is not something I am going to tolerate, for what 'fun' is that???

After some much needed Starbucks, we assemble ourselves for the day. Spaz whips out a pair of brown boots that look worse than a homeless woman's (toe completely worn through, heel worn through to the point that the nail was more of a heel than the actual heel!). I decide first order of business is to find this girl an acceptable pair of boots! You would think this wouldn't be too difficult due to the fact that it is still winter, it is after Christmas so the prices have to be good and we're in New York City....NOT-SO-MUCH! After a failed attempt, we decide to proceed on to our 'cultural' activity of the day and make our way to the Upper East Side to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

We spent a good portion of the day making our way through corridor after corridor observing the statues of the Greek and Roman era, than onto paintings from Van Gogh and then onto what I couldn't wait for, the Temple of Dendur (that wing is so frickin' cool!). As we made our way through the museum we passed couple upon couple, some looking rather oddly paired up (Oh yes! It's Valentine's Day! Don't look single, we'll be stoned!) After our cultural experience, I feel its only fitting due to the fact we are on the Upper East Side, that we reward ourselves at one of my beloved bars, Doc Watson's.

We make our way there and find ourselves a couple stools at the corner of the bar. Having been a frequent patron back in the days that I lived on the Upper East Side, I knew the bartenders. Our intentions had been to go for only 'a couple' drinks but a 'couple' turned into four(?). After countless drinks and making friends with a man in his 30s from Indianapolis in NYC for the first time ever for buisness, we contact our friend from home who's friends are having a bar crawl properly titled, 'Forget about Cupid, Let's all get Stupid,' on the lower east side. We pay up to the sweet Irishmen, tell Mr. Indianapolis to go to Bro Jos to hit on 23 year olds while saying he too is 23, then make our way down to the crawl.

We make it to pretty much all the bars on the list and it becomes clear our dear friend needs to make an exit and his way home. Spaz and I, having built our tolerance the night before, are not ready to quit so I take her to my beloved Pete's Tavern (go ahead, start making fun but this place is the bomb diggs!) We make friends with the bartender (of course). Before I do anything I'm going to regret, Spaz tells me we should call it a night, so we do and end the evening having been mildly destructive, if at all.

So, not as destructive as you would have thought, huh? I am pretty impressed with my behaviors over the weekend. I finally came to the end of one of my destructive paths (lil' brother) and even heard 'reasoning' when being swayed away from another destructive path (Pete's tavern bartender). Sorry if my weekend bore you but I feel rather positive Polly that I may be learning....NAAAAAH!

To be Self-Destructive or not be Self-Destructive? That is the Question..

Ah yes, Valentine's Day is upon us.

I had no idea that it was coming since every other commercial isn't a "every kiss begins with Kay's" or some diamond special being run at Zales.

I also had no idea because everything in stores is Red or in the shape of a heart. Even my beloved 'treat truck' is a betrayer and has shaped all their sugar cookies into hearts and used red food coloring for the frosting on their cupcakes!

I have my issues with this holiday because for some reason, on this day of the year, people feel that it is their opportunity to show others, mainly their significant others, how much they care by going out for over priced meals, getting or giving chocolates, buying "small thoughtful gifts" and spending a ridiculous amount on the 'flower of love' otherwise called, red roses.

When I was younger I did enjoy the holiday because it was so fun giving out valentines and even more fun getting them, especially when there was chocolate or candies involved. Now that I am in my 'adult age,' I mainly now stick to dressing in all black (sorry for not being mushy gushy and wearing pink or red) and find other single partner or partners in crime to get black out drunk with(not really but imbibing is usually on the agenda). Although I talk rather pessimisticly, I am not a complete "hater of the holiday" since I have observed the holiday three times in my adult lifetime because only three times did I happen to have a boyfriend when the holiday passed.

The first year I was "in a relationship" was my senior year in high school. I was dating THE guy who was captain of everything and after many previous years of 'awkwardness' came into his own and was rather attractive. With his attractiveness came an ego that was out of control and a feeling of self-righteousness. He thought he was soooooo romantic for giving just one rose instead of a dozen because it was 'more special' or as I like to call it "super cheapass." On Valentine's Day we went to dinner with a few other couples to this ghetto beyond ghetto Italian place. He continued his "charm" by, gasp, buying dinner! Oh yes, it was one for the record books on the romance scale of 1 through 10.

The next time V-Day was of some sort of significance, I happened to be dating a guy who was more sensitive than I am at the height of PMS. This guy put the sap into 'SAP.' As well intentioned as he was, he was one of those guys that just tried too hard and premeditated EVERYTHING in order to be 'romantic' but most of the time it was borderline nauseating. Since the 'holiday of romance' happened to fall during the time of his 'courting' I was fortunate enough not to be completely 'wooed' but days after the holiday when my beautiful bouquet of yellow roses began to wilt, he made a comment, 'those are looking a little sad, we'll have to replace those,' under his breath but loud enough for me to hear. The next day I had a fresh bouquet left on my dorm room bed. As romantic as that may be for some people it was mushier than baby food.

Next man to be thrown under my anti-cupid bus happens to be the one guy I truly feel I 'fell' for. He gave me not a dozen roses but eight, the number of months we had been dating. That was kind of mushy but I totally ate it up like any other fool in love would. To really throw me into orbit, he hand-made chocolate covered strawberries with Ghiradelli chocolate and served them with a nice bottle of champagne. I melted. I am admitting to a moment of complete mush and vulnerability. Before I throw up all of the girl scout cookies I've consumed tonight, I must move on.

This year, I happen to be excited for the holiday, not because I have a significant other but I DO have someone special, we shall lovingly refer to her as 'Spaz.' Spaz and I have known each other since we were in elementary school and officially became great friends in seventh grade. Spaz and I have seen each other through thick and thin, know pretty much EVERYTHING about one another and most importantly have ridiculous fun together. So this Valentine's Day, since we are both fabulously single, she has agreed to make the trek down to NYC for some ridiculous funness. I am beyond excited for her arrival for pure debauchery. Instead of staying in and moping over not having a date, we shall go out and meddle with all the 'men at prey.' I refer to them as 'men at prey' because I am not naive. Any single man knows that THE day they are almost guaranteed to get laid is Valentine's Day. Sadly, some single girls will go out in hopes of finding love on Valentine's Day but what they will end up with the next morning is an STD and another number in their 'one night stand list.'

So this Saturday, I wish you all a lovely day/evening of looooooove while I enjoy a day with one of my bestest of friends and a night of punking all the D-bags in NYC. Happy Valentine's Day my luuvers!

Reserving the right to be picky

I have been inspired to write a blog such as this by a short conversation I had with Gumbi the other day, on Superbowl Sunday none-the-less.

We were discussing the antics of Thursday night and he said, 'So what about Red? He really dug you and you both have the whole Irish thing workin' for you.' (Oh how I wish I could impersonate his voice for you to make it that much better!)

Interesting reasoning.....so, in trying to be polite--but not really, since I am not a sugar coating kind of a gal (unless its a cupcake and then of course, throw me some icing!) I tell him, 'I'm not so sure about that.' He then responds, 'You should just go out on a date and give him a chance.' That statement then brings me to, Why? Why is it necessary to go out on a date with someone that you barely want to share a hot molten cake with let alone go on a second date?

About a year ago this time I went through a phase where two dates were my cap. I would go on great 1st dates with guys and then they'd ask for a second and then they must have fallen off the island of Manhattan (for there could not possibly be another reason!) and were never to be heard from again. It left me feeling rather confused. Was I not fun? Was I boring? Am I unattractive? Did I have food stuck between my teeth? A boggah dangling from my nose? Then, I realized these guys were actually doing me a favor.

Boy #1 we shall call 'Mr. Former Wall Street;' he obviously used to work as a trader and then moved on to work for a Finance Publication of sorts. On our first date we met at one of my fave tapas places in the city, Pipa. We had quite a few cocktails (we were just meeting for drinks) and he asked if I'd like to grab dinner. One to never pass up a free meal, I agreed to go for Sushi. After what seemed like the never ending progression of raw fish accompanied with MORE drinks, I suggested we go for a beer at my beloved Pete's Tavern. We got there, we each had a beer, I raised my arm and dismissed myself from the date for I had hit my wall and Mr. Wall Street was officially a fish of all fishes! After our first date, we texted daily and he asked me on another date. We met at Houston's on a Wednesday and being consistent with our first date, had numerous cocktails. After dinner, he asked me what I'd like to do and I didn't really offer too much in terms of suggestions so he said, 'how about we drink our way from here downtown?'

Not really one to enjoy drinking so aggressively during the week (I tend to try not to) I obliged and followed his boozebag staggered path to various bars. After our last drink of the night, he assumed he could come home with me.....ummmm....really? I was hardly wearing anything 'seductive' and I wasn't really giving him any 'signals' that that would be an acceptable assumption. I told him that I didn't feel comfortable with that, he hailed a cab, basically slammed the door shut on my ass and that was the last time I saw Mr. Wall Street. When I never heard from him again I really wasn't upset because a) he mainly talked about himself and his snotty family, which I thought was entertaining that someone could think so highly of himself, b) lived in Hoboken and most importantly c) thought he could come home with me because he paid for a couple of dates. I feel I earned those free meals after listening to his Macy's Day Parade Balloon-sized head for a two date combined total time of 8 hours!

Boy #2 we shall call 'Gramercy' because to state the obvious, that's where he laid his head to rest at night. We met for the first time at Pete's Tavern (yes I'm obsessed with the place, have you had their popcorn???) and had a great time. We had interesting conversation about sports (we both played soccer), about work and about family. We did have dinner but I went home not completely schnockered and not overwhelmed by his conceitedness. That week I was able to get tickets to the Knicks game through work for that following Friday and decided to invite Gramercy as my date. I am not a fan of the Knicks but he was and I do like going to sporting events. We met for a drink before and went to the game together. We talked a lot during the game about how we love the beach in the summer and all sorts of fun stuff.

Apparently we were talking a lil' loud (we had a few of those giant brewskis they serve at Madison Square Garden) and the boy in front of us turned around and said, 'Hey, could you two quiet it down, I'm trying to watch the game here.' Both of us were embarrassed, apologized and quieted down. At half-time the two older men that the younger boys looked like they had gone to the game with got up to use the bathroom and get beers. The young boy who had 'yelled' at us turned around and apologized saying that the guys that just got up had paid him $40 to embarrass us. This upset Gramercy and when the guys returned to their seats, he called them out on it. They were not looking to concede and neither was he. All three of them took their argument into the aisle.

To say I was mortified would be an understatement. As I tried to hide behind my jumbo sized Bud Light bottle, everyone in the surrounding seats were watching and yelling at them all to sit back down. Finally they did and luckily the game was almost over. Gramercy felt horrible for his behavior and I tried to overlook it, but, come on! You are how old and getting into drunken fights at a sports event?

Boy #3 we shall refer to as 'Prepster.' He seemed nice enough but was a bit boring. All he talked about was the stock market (one of the 'few' investment bankers in the city) and never really asked too much about me other than how far I had run that week (I was training for a 1/2 marathon at the time. Yes, self-destructive can not only drink through a marathon but run at least 1/2 of one too!). Anyway, nothing really too funny or interesting about this one so I'll end it with, we had a second date, he never reached out to me, I didn't reach out to him, and we'll end this to a boring two date series.

So back to the point of my blog, if you don't even foresee a second date, why should you agree to a first? Just so you can listen to some arrogant former trader talk about how his parents only 'accept' his brother's girlfriend because she comes from money? Just so you can go to sporting event with a guy who can't control his temper? Just so you can get a free meal but need strings attached to your eyelids so that you don't fall asleep in your mixed plate of cheese and fruit?

I believe that I should be able to reserve the right to be picky and not be seen as a 'leper' since I am not dating, in a relationship or married. The other night when Gumbi and Co. showed up at the pub, Mark #2 gave me the third degree, 'are you married? do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Dating someone? Why not???' Why is that so 'jarring?' I'm sure if I really wanted, I could find SOMEONE (likely with an ego but lets thrown in a side of temper for entertainment) out there since there are how many single men in NYC?

Still, I'd rather be picky. One of my married friends told me she was picky before meeting her now husband and would get grilled the same questions all the time too. In my opinion, her 'pickiness' worked out really well for her since her husband is not only handsome but also a really nice man who loves her to pieces and is also a great guy to all her friends.

So, for the time being I will walk down the street, head held high, proud of my status. I shall remain open to the idea of dating someone and hopeful that after a few non-controversial dates that things could lead to something more but since I don't currently have any promising prospects, I shall enjoy my 'freedom.' With all that being said, thanks Gumbi for offering up your single coworker, who is truly a nice guy but just not for me. I shall continue to do my 'thang' whether it be self-destructive or not and always, simply have fun!