The Brit that ruined accents forever.

Did Heidi and I ever mention that we joined OKCupid one night while we were being drunk and silly? Well I've hardly ever logged on, but the tricky part of that site is that people instant message you while you are on, so it's very hard to not speak to at least one of them.

This guy, we'll call him The Brit, messaged me, I checked his profile, and I wasn't so into it, so I ignored him. Well then he pulled the "Did I not pass your approval test?" line which made me feel like an asshole, so I said hello back, and it went from there. His picture actually was cute enough - he looked like a dark haired, kind of serious but possibly suave British guy with blue eyes.

Boy, can pictures lie.

He asked for my gchat, and we decided to grab drinks that upcoming Tuesday evening. He gchatted with me throughout the day Monday and Tuesday, and we actually got along quite well in conversation. I was actually a little nervous going into the date, hoping that I looked okay and making sure that my hair and make-up were all fresh.

I arrived at the bar at the Ace Hotel and saw him from across the room. I had been worried he might be a little short for my taste, but I could fully see his height upon walking in and was relieved that he was at least 1-2 inches taller than me. Crisis averted.

Til I rounded the corner and got the full view. You know how we ladies sometimes have weight challenges in the 'love-handle' area? Well, I think that the male equivalent is the 'spare tire' zone. And boy, was he packing a spare.

I had never been on a date that had turned out to be chubby, so I was caught off guard for a split second. It looked like he had attempted to be put-together, but something about it all just read 'sloppy' to me... Ugh, no bueno.

So we have our drink at the hotel bar, and then he immediately interjects that he has planned our next destination. Oh goody.

We walk a couple of blocks to an Italian wine bar on E. 28th Street - a cute place, but I totally was over this date already. There just wasn't a physical attraction, even I could admit that, and I don't know what it is, but when someone continually is telling you that you are 'lovely' all throughout any of your conversation, the whole thing just feels awkward.

Of course, The Brit insisted on ordering a bottle at this wine bar, and as I was with Volleyball Guy, I didn't feel badly when I made an excuse to run to the restroom right at the time that I knew the bill would come. Maybe I'm a jerk, but I did not opt for this second destination or a bottle of wine.

He had a third destination planned apparently, but I cut him short and told him that I had to be at a work meeting bright and early and had to get home - it was already pushing 11 pm at this point, and I felt that I had been polite for as long as I could possibly muster.

We left the wine bar, and as I was reaching up to dig in my purse for my Metrocard, he took the liberty of grabbing my left hand and interlocking our fingers. Ew. Hand holding to me is actually somewhat intimate - I'd first make out with someone before I opted to hold their hand even - and I was completely grossed out that he made such a ballsy move. I pulled it away slyly, and kept digging for the Metrocard.

We finally reached my train stop, and I tried to make a quick escape, but of course, The Brit had other plans. He grabbed my hand again and then asked, "Might I kiss you?" in that British accent that I was now completely turned off by. I pulled away and kind of giggled, "Oh nooo, I'm a good girl...I don't kiss on first dates." (Such a lie.)

He accepted defeat, asked for a next date, I eluded that question, and dashed into the subway.

I arrived home to a text, "I had a lovely time. When can I see you again?" I slept on it, figuring out what to do, and I decided to continue with my attempt at positive karma and wrote back, "Thank you so much for a nice evening. I really appreciate your asking, but I just don't think that I felt a romantic connection. I'd be interested in keeping in touch and being friends, if you'd like."

Gosh, I thought that was nice of me. At least I didn't ignore him, which he had mentioned on the date was one of his biggest pet peeves.

His response? "Well that's one bloody way to say good morning."

What a sore loser.

The biggest let down of the date? I think that he single-handedly has managed to ruin any of the Queen's accents for me: British, Australian, S. African...they all just sound annoying to me now. Bummer.

Update: The Student

I was thankfully let off the hook on the whole putting-up-The-Student situation. He ended up being able to stay with a friend of his for the entire week, so I don't have to stress over being on my best behavior or having an immaculate apartment - phew.

He is still coming to town, however, and will be staying in the neighborhood, so chances are that I still might see him. He had originally expressed that he wanted to see me while he was here regardless, but things have been a little weird communication-wise since that conversation, so it's kind of up in the air at this point. I think that the problem lies in me not wanting to make myself vulnerable to a) a guy and b) a 21-year-old guy, so I've been acting somewhat standoff-ish, which is totally not how we have ever communicated with each other in all the time that we've known one another.

Anyway, there was some passive aggressive Facebook flirting that went on last night that is so dumb that I'm hesitant to share, but hey, I think we're all operating on full-disclosure mode here, so feel free to feel awkward for me as you read this:

The Student's Facebook Status: "New York City tomorrow."

Other people commented, and then...

Diana: Are you so excited? Prepare for the heat!

The Student: I'm bringing a good amount of shorts and a mickey mouse water fan to cope with the heat.

Diana: You know you're a native New Yorker when...you personally own a Mickey Mouse water fan. :)

The Student: Hahahaa very funny Di

That's it? Really?

This is what I get for making out with a 21-year-old in his dorm room.

just what i wasn't looking for.

I met the Jamaican two months ago. On paper, he's all wrong:

- He's 3 years younger than me. I alway date my age or older. (the 23 year old b-bar hookup doesn't count as dating!)
- He lives in - gasp - Brooklyn. with a roommate.
- He's a paralegal and I think a secret romantic. Polar opposite of the last few I've actually dated, not just played with: overachievers with graduate degrees, Audis, and commitment issues.

We clicked pretty much instantly and it's gotten better every time we're together. I'm not even going to go into the sex, but it's insane. Maybe the best I've ever had, all things considered. (FYI ladies, the thing about hitting our sexual prime in our 30s is no joke.) I've even spent a few nights in Brooklyn and actually liked it.

So...I'm not sure if this is just one of those things triggered by amazing sex, or if it's real, but I think I'm a little bit in like with this one. He's even met some of my friends and been referred to by his real name, not just "the Jamaican". (With my girlfriends, this is major. We always use monikers, real names are reserved for seriously special occasions.)

I wasn't looking for this at all, and I'm not really sure how to react, but I've gotta admit I kind of like it. I'm actually even debating stopping seeing other people. OK, fine, if I'm being honest, I haven't gone out with or touched or really even thought about anyone else in over a month.

And I'm hanging out in Brooklyn and liking it. Whatttt is happening in the world.

Too close for comfort?

I'm not quite sure what I've signed up for, but I have a feeling that this might not go so well...

I received a text last night from The Student telling me that he'll be in New York at the end of July, and asked if he might stay a couple of nights at my apartment. (I can't blame him for asking- I did repeatedly offer my air mattress through my drunkenness the night we hooked up.)

Me being the weakling that I am, I told him that he could stay for two nights and only at the beginning of that week, as I will be quite busy toward the end of the week. Whether or not he decides to definitely stay remains to be determined, but I think we all know that he won't actually be using that air mattress.

It's been over two years since I've had a boyfriend and spent extended amounts of time with a man, so I'm not too sure what I think about being in such close quarters for two straight days.

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.