Easter, according to Pothead

"Too bad you're not in town [for Easter]. I'd be your chocolate, you could be my bunny."

-Pothead

I am a terrible TWI'er.

TWI = Texting While Intoxicated.

Saturday night, the girls and I were all out til about 5 am... Needless to say, I was a good bit intoxicated. And apparently, when intoxicated, I regress. Lots.

I decided to text Pothead:

Me: "I heard that you were hitting on one of my best friends, Muffy. I thought I was your girl?"

He answered the next morning:

"Haha, and what happened to your boyfriend? Lol, you're sexy from head to toes, but Muffy does have a nice booty :)))"

And then later Sunday night he followed up with:

"Now how come you only talk to me when you're drunk? You wouldn't happen to be one of those white girls with a repressed jungle fever now would you? Ha."


At least he has a great sense of humor in dealing with my drunk texting/teasing him!

Sunday Funday.

A lot can be said about a weekend that starts with mojitos in Central Park at 4 PM Friday and doesn't really stop from there. While there are quite a few stories to share...here's Sunday's action.

Met up with Muffy around 4 for "brunch" AKA our first meal since the 5 AM pancake and grilled cheese feast we shared that morning. We were both in seriously rough shape from the night before and were planning on a nice quiet Sunday meal, maybe watch a little basketball, maybe talk to some boys, no biggie.

Then, after a bloody and a few beers, Ivory starts texting. I'd agreed a few days before to see him on Sunday and didn't really think I could bail. Muffy and I were having too much fun, though, and I didn't really want to deal with Ivory alone so....Muffy and Pothead were invited! We head over to the old standby, hereby renamed J BBQ.

Ivory.....was in Gigglemonster Stage 7 when we arrived. Swinging back and forth between semi-normalcy and So Loud The Whole Bar is Looking at Us Gigglemonster. Fuck. How to deal with this situation? Um, shots. From the hot bartender, please.

Fast forward 2 hours, 2 shots, 2 beers....Ivory is shitfaced, Pothead is hitting on Muffy, I'm....wondering how the fuck I am in any way involved with this character. What next? Karaoke, of course. We head to the next spot. Take a shot from Asian bartender chick who I think may moonlight as a call girl, and is of course friends with Pothead...and we head to the back.

I can't really even explain Ivory's behavior in the karaoke room...but, suffice to say it was positively insane....involved a LOT of stumbling around the room, covering his face with his shirt repeatedly, and a loud, swaying attempt to serenade Muffy from the stage without a microphone.

Muffy and Pothead were gearing up for their duet when the karaoke machine broke, and Ivory was getting more ridiculous by the instant, so we were out. He had now asked me to come home with me at least thirty times, so I proclaimed that Muffy is sleeping on my couch, we are exhausted, and we have to go - NOW.

After a small goodbye struggle, we head out. I make Muffy walk with me to keep up appearances, then a half a block away.....brilliant idea...back to J BBQ and the hot bartender! Done. We play some skee ball, Muffy woos the hot bartender into giving us a free shot of Patron and.........out of the corner of my eye, I see someone swaying and falling and - it's Ivory! FUCK. As I try to break the news to Muffy...Pothead appears behind us.

Ohhhh nooooooo. Ohhh noooooooo this is bad. We have no words, I don't even say anything to Ivory, the bartender gets a good laugh out of it all, and Muffy and I decide...time to GO. Again. For real this time. We ungracefully stumble outside, have a quick chat with a very bizarre little man perched on top of a car like a spider monkey, and sit down to have a cigarette. We're talking about love, lust, and the evening we just had when...what? I am soooooo about to throw up. Apparently my earlier weekend conversation about how I never vomit anymore was a curse, because next thing I know, I am getting the hairy eyeball from an Upper East Sider walking her dog, as I am throwing up on the street. Wow. 32 years old, Sunday night, puking in a planter. C-L-A-S-S-Y.

If you're wondering if I heard from Ivory today, why yes I did:
11:03: "Morning my baby - miss you..."
12:25: "Heidi Heidi :)"
1:15: Missed call.
2:48: "Are you avoiding me or what???? Hope you are having a good day :)"

Apparently I am his princess for-e-va. I need to figure out how to make all men love me like this.

I think I need to work on my choices.

I don't know why, but I do find Ivory Coast to be somewhat endearing, despite the bouts of the giggles, the rooftop incident, and the time he tried to follow me home. The first two hours of both of the dates we've been on have been really, really nice. They've also both ended with Pothead showing up, some giggles, and some molestation attempts....so, yes, I clearly need to put an end to this.

For some reason, though, I still kinda like him. I really can't explain it, and he keeps doing really weird things that are making it difficult.

Case in point: an hour ago, my phone rings, Ivory's number. We usually text, not call, but OK. I pick up.......it's Pothead. Chatting with me on behalf of Ivory, asking me to come hang out.

So, either:
a) Diana's little sexting bit the other night got them thinking about a threesome.
b) They really are secretly 14 year old girls impersonating French African men.
or
c) Pothead is secretly Ivory's agent/bodyguard, who pretends to be his friend as to not freak me out.

or d) they are just fucking weirdos.

I don't know. It's all very strange. I am thinking about all of the men I have been out with in NYC and my track record is really not looking good. I'm starting to think it's me. Full rundown coming later, maybe someone can help me figure out the pattern.

Tequila and Texting do not mix.

Texts from last night:

Him: Hi Diana, its Pothead. How are you?

[six hours later] Me: I'm well thanks, how are you?

Him: I'm a year older, 27 now. We should go for a drink at The Wine Bar sometimes.

Me: I'm sorry, I hate The Wine Bar.

Him: Oh ok, you got a place you like to go for a drink?

Me: Well I mean I do have a boyfriend though... Does that matter to you?

Him: Well, he's your bf, not mine, i digged you that night, you're really cute.

Me: Well thanks. I have a question. What was the guy doing on the roof with just suspenders and boxers but no pants?

[thirty minutes later] Me: Pothead my love...please tell me the suspenders story

-Pothead calls. I don't recall the conversation, just that I know I really egged him on even further. We hang up.-

Me: It was so good to hear your sexy voice.

Him: Hehe, really? Glad you like it babe.

Me: You speak french, can you tell me what menage a trois means?

Him: It means me, you and another cutie.

Me: How about you me and another guy?

Him: Lol, you're funny, you're game like that? I never done that, but i'm like that energy bunny, you only one of me ;)

[I think he meant, "you only need one of me"...]

Him: I'm back home, we should meet up, i'll teach u more sexy french.

Me: Hm, menage a trois. What about you and Ivory Coast?

Him: What??? You're serious? i don't know about that ...come on babe, let me drop by and say hi, i haven't seen you in a while.

Me: I'm actually really serious. Is that a problem?

Him: Ok, let's meet up and talk about what you want to do, imma take a shower, let me know, if you serious, i can seriously drop by and get down to some serious business... Nope that's not a prob ...just say the word, i'll be right by your doorstep, coming to put some dick between your legs, just say the word. Lol, we can alternate...seriously u got me in the mood, i wanna tear your ass apart babe...

-At this point, The Beard was listening in to us girls laughing so hard at the text messages that he grabbed my phone, and decided he was going to answer Pothead for a while. I didn't argue and let him text away. I'm seriously going to hell. The following messages sent from "me" are actually The Beard...-

Me: The only thing you'll be putting in me is a serious bout of nausea.

Him: Ok, i get it...but you started with this, i just played along. i didn't think you were serious at first, that's why i asked you, but think what you want to think.

Me: Take it easy buddy I'm sure there are women lined up around the block to have your awkward sexual advances texted to them.

Him: I didn't make any advances until you teased me about having a sexy voice and wandering about menage a trois ...i called you see how you were doing and if you wanted to meet up, that was it...anyway, it doesn't matter now.

Me: [this was Heidi taking the phone back and trying to wrap the convo up] Dude pothead I'm just drunk and was playin'. Dude its all good.

I'm going to hell. I'm going to hell. I'm going to hell.

Delaware: Four Months Later

Muffy, Heidi, and I headed downtown last night for a hopefully eventful Saturday evening... We started out at a bar in the East Village, where I strategically texted Delaware to let him know where we were and hopefully have him stop by for a casual bump-in. He did end up joining us soon after we had arrived and went through quite a few rounds of drinks with the girls and me. He was definitely able to hang with my girls, laugh with our jokes, and even managed to squeeze some good laughs out of us as well.

Muffy and Heidi decided to head to Brooklyn for a party hosted by Ivory Coast, his friend Pothead, and some others, so it gave me a great chance to escape with Delaware and get to chat one-on-one. We headed to a little divey joint in Alphabet City, had a beer, and he pulled me in for a first kiss: nice, definitely with a sweet tinge to the whole thing.

He asked then if I had ever gotten his call back in the Fall after we had met. I told him no, that I hadn't. He told me that he had thought that I just wasn't interested, but that after four months had passed, I still crossed his mind, so he decided to take the chance and send me that text message. Exact words: "I hoped that if I still remembered you and had thought that you were so great, that maybe you remembered me also."

I mean, I tried not to melt there on the spot.

I was pleasantly surprised all evening by his straight forwardness and cute shyness- definitely two qualities that the men I tend to go for never possess.

We ended up heading back to his apartment (did I mention that he conveniently placed us at said divey joint directly across the street from his place?) so that he could play me a song on the guitar. We made a quick detour to his rooftop deck, kissed there a bit more, headed to his room where he played for me, and then - surprise, surprise - ended up making out on his bed for an hour. Don't worry though, I was a good girl and insisted on heading home by 4 am.

Here is where I do have to note that I called the girls immediately upon my departure to fill them in, and definitely made the bold statement that he may possibly have been the best kisser of my life thus far. Corny, but I realized that I've never made out with someone who just completely exuded passion, and believe it or not, I think I could tell from the make out sesh that he may actually be one of the few left in New York City that believes in... dare I say it? ...romance.

(Even I tend to just believe that romance one day ran off with chivalry, only to never return.)

Who knows? I'm definitely interested in seeing where this one might end up...

Texts from Last Night

Last night, I used the excuse that I was having an argument with my "boyfriend" and therefore could not go meet Pothead, who is a friend of Ivory Coast. I thought that the commitment aspect of that would give the not-so-subtle hint that I wouldn't be interested in visiting with Pothead.

Apparently, there were still gray areas.

Text received:
"Hey, I'm sorry to hear that you are having bf trouble. Come out have a drink, let me put a smile on your cute face :)"

Umm....I'll take a rain check.