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.

Karma & The Principal

After diagnosing my MDFM situation to be a direct result of my bad karma, I have made a conscious effort over the last few months to right my wrongs and leave a good, I dunno...vibe or something, out in the dating world.

I had pretty much set everything in a positive direction until a quick little slip of the Blackberry occurred this weekend.

Let's rewind to Friday, where I had a planned date with The Principal (as in, of a school). We had met on Match.com, and because he lives in Brooklyn (aka Geographically Undesirable), we decided to meet at some beer bar in Union Square. Because Muffy and Heidi were heading out for what sounded like way more fun than my Principal-date, I met them prior to heading downtown, and admittedly got a little drunk.

Three martinis and a $17 cab ride later: I met him, he was okay cute, we had a semi-boring conversation, I diagnosed that as good of a job as I was doing being able to pretend that he was entertaining me, he was doing a poor job of pretending that I was amusing him, and we mutually cut the date short about an hour and a half in. Cool, no big deal. Then right at the end of the conversation at the bar, I do a little head-tilt at something he says, and I try to re-evaluate if he actually is indeed interested in me. Either way, we leave, we walk toward the main street where I can catch a cab and he can catch his train to Brooklyn, we stop for a moment for me to mention I need to head to the left, and he looks, and says: "Okay, nice meeting you. Good night." And turns and walks away.

I was a bit taken aback at his super abrupt farewell, although admittedly not disappointed to escape the lame date and head back to the girls, but at least I then felt positive in his lack of any interest in me.

Until Saturday.

The girls and I were a few drinks in, making fun of his abrupt exit and decided to make light of the situation. I sent The Principal a quick email from my Blackberry:

"I had such a wonderful time meeting you last night. I'd love to see you soon.

Diana"

I said "wonderful"? "Love to see you soon"? I was sure that this would make his eyes bug a little that this was my response to our Friday night meeting.

Fifteen minutes later the good ole Blackberry beeps with a response:

"I had a great time too and would love to get together again. When are you free? How was your night tonight? Hope you had fun!"

Whaaaaaaaaaat? You have got. to be. kidding me. And more than anything, because I decided to mess with his head and in all honesty make fun of him, does this mean I have to work on karma reparation all over again??? Unreal.


....But now that I reflect on this situation and the juxtaposing evening with Delaware, I'm thinking that it may be quite possible that the MDFM Phenom really is taking a turn-around...

Anywhere But Brooklyn.

Single women everywhere re-hash male behaviors and determine that most guys are assholes. The male version of this conversation apparently concludes that most women are crazy bitches. Last night, I was the crazy bitch. For sure.

Once we sent Diana safely off on her dreamy date, Muffy and I decided to go ahead and head to Brooklyn to Pothead's birthday party. We left the fine island of Manhattan around 2:30 AM....25 long minutes later, the lights disappeared, the shops disappeared, the people disappeared...and we'd arrived at the "house party" in Brooklyn. On a deserted and scary block.

We weren't feeling it, but at this point, we'd spent 25 minutes and 25 bucks getting there, so decided to head in. In a moment of brilliance, Muffy begged the cab driver to wait five minutes "just in case" since our chances of finding a cab once there were none to none.

We go in to find 8 people hanging out in a bright, quiet apartment. Um, OK. We say hello and happy birthday to Pothead who tells us that Ivory Coast is anxiously awaiting my arrival on the roof.

Then the fun really begins. We head to the roof to find Ivory Coast, dressed to the nines in a track jacket and beanie, so stoned that he can only giggle like a Japanese schoolgirl....sitting alongside Suspenders, aptly named because he was in his boxer shorts being held up by suspenders. Um, what? Yes, underwear and suspenders.

We're not really sure what the fuck is going on at this point, but we are positive that we need to bounce. Muffy signals to the cabbie from the roof that we're coming back down, and we tell Ivory and Suspenders that we're out. They ask me where we're going - my answer: "Anywhere but Brooklyn." They are down, I guess, because they say that they are coming with us. Suspenders scampers away to put on his jeans, and Ivory Coast scampers to...put on another track jacket? Not sure. We tell them we are heading down to have a cigaratte and we'll see them in the cab.

Somewhere between that conversation and the door of the cab, we think better of it, and decide it's time to bolt - solo. We jump in the cab and tell him to step on it.

The best part: Ivory still asked me for a "walk and dinner" tonight.

I gotta work on my dating karma.