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.

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.

Date with Delaware

Delaware and I got busted last night by the Po' for making out in a park at like 1 in the morning. What am I, 12 years old???

Obviously it was a great date though... Dinner at a cutesy place in the East Village, followed by drinks at The Bourgeois Pig (one of my new faves), a little make-out sesh in the park, followed by a little make-out sesh at his apartment.

I didn't get home til 3 am, and on a school night! I can't really say that there's anything funny and juicy to share, because the date was actually just a really good one. No abnormal behavior, no ridiculous outbursts or pathetic attempts to get my pants off. Just a good night.

I had pretty much forgotten what that looks like up to this point...

It's been a quiet last couple nights...

I grounded myself for the rest of the week after waking up Wednesday with my head refusing to balance correctly on my shoulders. I mean, Tuesday is just the beginning of the school week for goodness sake. I gotta slow it down a little.

The real reason for the update though is that Delaware and I have been texting (not to be confused with sexting) throughout the week and have scheduled our next date for a week from today. A Thursday...not too shabby. We're meeting at a really cool bar that Muffy, Heidi, and I actually wrapped up my birthday at a few weeks ago. Like it.

I'm actually looking forward to it.

Ugh, don't let me start falling in crush mode...

Although I secretly maybe do love crush mode ;)

An Open Letter (not from) the Heart

Dear Single Men of Manhattan

I don't get sloppy on a Tuesday night to NOT get taken advantage of. Come on. If you see a girl, like me, dressed to the nines with polish on the nails, drinking her way through (yet another) margarita on a school night...take notice. I CAME TO WORK. (And by work, I don't mean a 9-to-5er.) There's some country and western song that says, "Tequila makes her clothes fall off," and guess what? They ain't lying.

Since you, Single Men of Manhattan, can't seem to find the time right now, I'll give you some time to think. Think about what you're missing out on.

Hope you miss me a lot this weekend. I can't wait to give the Mid-Atlantic boys a run for their money.

hugs&kisses!

m.