Volleyball Guy

It took me about a week to think of a moniker for Volleyball Guy so that I could write about him. And really, I don't know that Volleyball Guy is even the right one to have decided upon. It was either that or 'Natural Gas Analyst', since that's what he does for a living, but to be honest, this guy was so nondescript that I just found myself fumbling to come up with something good to call him. So we'll just use the name that he chose for himself on his Match.com account.

VG was an okay looking guy in his Match pictures, and he was super nice in his emails. (I really need to always remember Heidi's advice for me and stop being drawn to the 'nice' guys. Nice = boring.) We met on Tuesday night in Union Square, and the moment we met I could tell that this was not going to go very far. His khakis were just a size too big, but he had belted them quite nicely, so that he had that illusion of having a FUPA, and he looked like a really unfortunate combination of Jewish and Italian. And to have sealed the deal on my becoming immediately disinterested, he spewed sarcasm from the moment that we said hello.

He also ended up not having a plan of action for once we met up (such a date foul), so I ended up leading us to a wine bar that I knew semi-nearby. I tried to order just a glass of wine, but he insisted on a bottle. $70 and 2 rounds each later, I snuck into the bathroom to text Heidi to escape, while I let him pay the bill. Hey, I didn't want a bottle to begin with, so I felt little to no guilt for that one.

I ended up ditching out early, offered some lame excuse when he asked to take me out again on Friday (I mean, who in New York really has to pick up a friend from the airport on a Friday night?? I don't even have a car. Hello, Diana, think quicker on your feet next time.), and headed out to meet friends.

On Friday, the dreaded follow-up text came: "Hey! I forgot I was going to dc to visit a friend late next week and weekend but would you like to get dinner with tues or wed? :)"

I dwelled on my next move for a good four-and-a-half hours before finally deciding to promote good karma and to do something that I'd never done before. Instead of just rejecting him with a rude silence, I texted him to let him know I wasn't feeling it: "Hey, thank you so much for thinking of me, I really appreciate it, but I didn't feel a chemistry the other night. I wish you the best of luck in meeting someone great though. :)"

I have to say it was much better of a move than having to dodge a couple more days of text messages, and hopefully he'll pass on that same respect to the next girl he isn't interested in. Because doesn't it just totally suck when the guy you were crushing on just doesn't answer?

The Student, via Facebook Flirtation

With The Student being the 3,000 miles away from New York for the Summer, we have had slim contact thus far. We did BBM back and forth for the last few days of his residency in the city before he flew back to LA for Summer Break, and I did wake up about a week ago to a BBM from him, which turned into an all day back-and-forth conversation.

Today, his Facebook status mentioned hanging with his family (who I know pretty well, seeing that we were all formerly neighbors) at the beach. In my champagne haze, I 'liked' it to incite a little bit of "well hey there, how YOU doin'" flirtation.

And upon his logging on hours later, I dorkily got giddy to see he'd 'liked' one of my Mobile Photo Uploads right back.

Oh, Technology, what have you turned us all into?

you can't make this shit up.

This is what was delivered along with my chicken parm sub for lunch today. Evidently I made quite the impression on the guy who answered the phone at Manhattan Pizza.

booty call.

nothing like waking up to 2 missed calls and a text, all from the 3 am hour. why hello Red.

is it wrong that my first thought was, "shit, I wish I'd been up"?

Irony. Not that they would get that.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a total stickler for grammar and spelling. I may or may not even have been the District Spelling Bee Runner-Up in both the 3rd and 4th Grades - and might have been the winner if not for "righteous" and "semaphore".

So - explain this: I have not had any sort of sexual relationship or chat with a man who speaks/texts/emails/IMs in proper English for months. If you looked at the text history on my phone, you'd think I was dating 15 year old high school dropouts.

Punctuation? They're not interested. Spellcheck? What is that? The difference between your and you're? Get real.

Clearly that's how I like it, so it's my issue. And one that I need to figure out, since I really couldn't get serious with someone who doesn't know when to use "its" vs. "it's". But I'm seeing some irony here. And wondering if any of them know what that word means.

Delaware: Mystery Solved.

Heidi and I ran into Delaware last night, and in the middle of our tequila-induced dance fest, Heidi leaned in and asked Delaware what the deal is with his inability to touch me. In 2.5 seconds, he spilled to her that he had just gotten out of a 7 year relationship. Something he couldn't manage to communicate to me in 2.5 months.

I think I would've been less annoyed with him if he really was a virgin.

Meet: The Greek.

Meet: The Greek. Explanation may or may not follow, but this is why I generally don't let boys Facebook friend me...I made an exception,and this is what I get.

has it come to this?

Online dating is endlessly amusing. Truly. Most of the guys are weirdos, but that's pretty much like real life, if you ask me. But the "wink" I just got on Match...took it too far. I thought it was a mug shot, but I guess that's just his blinds. Either way, this one was too precious not to share. Meet my new boyfriend.

Run in with Big Red

Friday night, the girls and I headed downtown to a bar that none of us had ever been to before to attend one of Heidi's friend's birthday party. We were there for no more than 60 seconds, when I queued up to the bar to order a drink, and I do the swift little room-check for cute guys, and I do a double take at a tall, red-haired man to my right. Shit, a guy I'd met on Match.com.

He totally saw me double-take, so I turn toward him and do the polite, "Hello, how are you? Diana, remember? We went out a few months back." Introductions of our friends ensued, and then a nice, "Alright, well nice seeing you," from my side.

I turn back to the bar, where Muffy and Heidi are eyeing me suspiciously, wondering how I already intro'ed myself to a stranger at a bar in 5 seconds flat, when I whisper, "That was Big Red. You know, the one that bored me to death on our date back in January or February." At which point, I do a sly little glance his way, just in time to see his 6'5'' red-haired frame ducking out of that bar as fast as he could.

If he bored me on our date months back, I must've really freaked him out to make him want to flee, regardless of how full his cocktail still was.

Another one bites the dust.

It's going on two and a half months since Delaware resurfaced and we started our little dating affair. Walks in Central Park, movies in Union Square, dinners in Soho, dinners on the UES, drinks in the East Village, wandering through the Upper West Side, and after each and every date, a return to whoever's apartment was closest. The apartment-return would see us watching movies, sitting on the roof taking in the NY skyline, sipping some more wine, talking, making out, making out, making out.

Which can be fun. When you're 16.

However, these days, I'm a twentysomething professional living in New York City, on my own, in an apartment of my own, and I would seriously appreciate, especially after the two month mark, even just the slightest of a boob graze. (Because let me tell ya, Delaware, your love of dry humping really does not turn a girl on.)

I really don't get it. I've tried to further the situation myself, and managed to make a little bit of progress, so I thought. But only he reaped those benefits, let me tell ya.

The girls and I have had many a discussion on what the issue here might be. Shy? Maybe. Physically incapable? No, shot down that theory the night I took it upon myself to be a bit aggressive.

So after long, careful observation, we've come to the conclusion that I just can't see him anymore. I can't take the torture, and at the end of the day, I do not want to be the aggressor in a relationship.

Therefore, I must say, Sorry, Delaware. I hate to be mean, but I just can't date a 28 year old virgin.

Update: Red.

So, Red resurfaced a couple days ago with an attempted booty call. I declined in a pitiful attempt to play hard to get, then reciprocated last night.

I don't think he's my Prince Charming, or even that I will know him a month from now, but I'm glad I saw him semi-sober. Although I am still trying to figure out why he slept in my bed in full body Under Armour, right next to me, and didn't touch me all night or morning long. (After we already had had sex a couple hours earlier...so it wasn't some attempt at being a gentleman. wtf is that.)

On the plus side, he rolls giant blunts, has a now confirmed super hot body, and is a very oddly sexy combo of ghetto and smart.

I was kinda hoping for a better connection, but I'm not kicking him out of the rotation yet.

30 something's Labido

Whats wrong with me. My Gina is a screamin' "do me now" "do me now" its cray cray!

Honestly. If this doesn't settle down soon, Im gunna have to call in the troops, as in old booty calls to handle the job.

The Good Girl.

For starters:

• To lie and say it wasn't alcohol induced wouldn't be fair.
• To lie and say we knew each other pretty well as we came barreling inside of his apartment at 5 am would be stretching the truth.
• To lie and say I knew his name the next day (and by day, I mean Sunday afternoon) wouldn't be fair either.
• To lie and say I had the best of intentions wouldn't really be lying. Honestly, I did.

It's Saturday night, and I've accepted an invitation to a dinner party with an entire cast of gay men and myself. 6 guys + 1 girl? Who in their right mind would ever turn that down? Exactly.

A few bottles of red and 3 Cher CD's later, I get the call from Heidi that my attendance is needed at some downtown bar. It's 1 am and it's mandatory. My sober self would've toyed with the idea of heading home, my not-so-sober self didn't think twice. It seemed like seconds from the time I got the text to the moment when I slammed the cab door shut. It was pouring rain, the streets were overflowing with drunk twentysomethings. It was the perfect night for a bad decision.

Shortly after I make my way inside, Heidi arrives with boys in tow. We do the usual meet and greet, I decided none of them were cute and question why I trekked downtown at 1:30 in the morning for quasi-cute and semi-charming. Then I retorted because it's not the boys I was after, it was quality time with H, which is always a damn good time. Shots come, beers are poured, photo booths are found. That's right, ladies and gents, WE HAVE PHOTO EVIDENCE. Photo evidence that proves we were at the bar, but no photo evidence of the man you're about to meet.

I'd now like to introduce, Older Not Wiser, to my saga. Wish I could tell you more about how we met at the bar, but it's all kinda grey. Wish I could tell you how he swept me off my feet while crossing the street to catch a cab, but I'm pretty sure I stumbled in on my own. Wish I could tell you how I ended up at his apartment, but I don't really remember being invited.

What I do know is that we spent all of Sunday morning getting to know each other - completely naked. Believe it or not, he is charming. And hilarious. And amazing in bed. I should know. I didn't leave until 8pm the following evening. Either he wasn't sure how to kick me out, or he hadn't had a woman in his bed in a long time. Regardless, I overstayed my welcome and he didn't mind.

I should add that if this had been a male New Yorker in his twenties, I might of been a little more nervous that he "had done this sorta thing many times before." But, with Older Not Wiser, I felt at ease and safe. Like, he's older, more mature. A man that has his shit together wouldn't just do something like this all the time. (Just what any parent wants their daughter to assume, right?)

The day was great, it flew by actually. I will spare you the sexual details, as I'm sure we've all been in this situation with a first timer. And if you're wondering how I caught his name before we jumped in the shower for the next hour - I will share my secret. It was lunchtime-ish(?), we decided on take out, I opted to grab the menus, and there it was. I was hoping for a bill of some sort, an old pay stub, a bank statement...anything but a birthday card from his parents. Two birds with one stone. Name and Age. As I waltzed back to the bedroom, you would've thought I had just broken the DaVinci code. I'm just that good.

So, it's been two weeks. He's been calling. A few casual dates here and there. One more romp around his place. I'm not in love, or remotely even in like, but a girl has to have her backup plan.

Plus, I kinda like it when he smacks my ass and tells me "I'm being such a good girl."

Meet: The Student

The Student and I met when we lived next door to each other in the same Los Angeles apartment building during our high school years. I was 16, he was 14. According to our latest conversation (had this past week), we both mutually have had a crush on each other since those high school days. But I was a Junior, and he was a Freshman, so obviously that was never gonna happen.

Until I moved to New York a year and a half ago, and he got into NYU for Film School.

We've been messaging each other for the past year trying to arrange some sort of New York City rendezvous, but nothing had ever come about. Partly due to my busy work schedule, partly due to his crazy list of film deadlines, but mostly due to his being underaged and not able to get into any of the bars that I always ended up in in his 'hood late night.

Thursday night was one of those evenings that I found myself down in Greenwich Village with friends, so I made sure to text the newly-21-year-old to come meet us. He meets me at the bar, at one point I end up sitting on his lap, we leave together, and I walk him home to "make sure he got there safely". Next thing I know, we're standing in front of the NYU Dorm Building, and I ask him what his dorm room looks like. Do I want to see it?, he asks. You betcha I do.

I had to walk through a turnstile and give my West Coast University ID to the guard at the door, as well as sign some waiver, but I'd say it was worth all that to end up making out like crazy (and such) in his dorm room for the next three hours. I was impressed that that was what I had been living in such close quarters to all these years, and missing out on.

I would say that this could turn into some hot, steamy Summer affair, but as all collegiates do, The Student returns today to Los Angeles for his summer vacation. If New York weren't such an endless opportunity of hot Summer affairs, I might be a bit more disappointed. But he'll be back in the Fall, at which point I fully anticipate a sexy Autumn affair.

I, of course, texted Muffy & Heidi during my 4 am cab ride home from the dorms to fill them in on the setting of my evening, and I fully heard back the jokes (which I obviously found fitting, seeing that I haven't lived in a dorm in over five years). Until I showed them The Student's Facebook picture, at which point, the girls might have given me a little high five action. And then continued to joke about the rumored Chick-fil-a on campus at NYU.

Breakup Sex without the Ex

Too Soon.

This was bad bad bad.

So, here's the back story: I met this hottie around the same time I met my EX. We shagged a lot but my ex won the battle of wits. Now that Im confused and missing him like crazy, of course Im gunna call the hottie for a little "make me feel better" (que Halle berry in Monsters Ball) session.

We smoked a joint- me a little too much. Started making it out. Which was foreign and strange but mechanically nice. Then we got into the mix, this is where I felt like a filthy S-L-U-T.

It was too soon. Too much weed, too much booty too soon.

I have since made a mends with the ex. Being single doesn't necessarily mean get back into qusi-dating one-night-stand-mode. I actually have to be an adult about this break up and deal with it.

Barf.