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.

make a sweet love? really?

really, seriously.

how did I get myself mixed up with a guy who keeps texting me that he wants to 'make a sweet love' to me?

I think I need to go to therapy.

texts from last night.

Last night...was....a shitshow. Could and probably should be its own entry, but let's just say it led to me jumping out of a cab to projectile vomit at 9:30 this morning.

Apparently Pseudo was having quite the night too, and feeling amorous because I woke up to 12 new texts, along with a whole conversation that I don't remember. From the beginning.....skip to the end if you just want the extra fun late night segment.

10:15 PM:
P: How goes Heidi
Me: Hi :) I may or may not be wasted on the UES. How are u?
P: I'm good :) A little drunk too. More wine than I'm currently used to.
Me: Ah, I see. At the bar next door?
P: So u've been good?
P: No. Home working/drinking. But headed there soon.

10:49 PM:
Me: I've been good :) having kinda ridiculous night but good :)
P: At bar now. Ahh jersey girls suck! Its who u are but I wish u weren't so complicated :) but then again I'm a mess too. Pbly easier this way I am really tired of hurting people. I don't have the constitution for it.
Me: Wait u mean is jersey girls who are complicated or me? Confused :)
P: lol. ure complicated. Jersey girls are simpletons.

11:02 PM:
P: But maybe not. I accept the fact that I may have created all the complexity in my mind.
Me: w me or u? (or both?)
P: Obviously I'm drunk. Just add it to the entertainment fee you owe me :)
P: No with me to answer ur question.
P: I know how you came to your positions
P: Usually understanding the others positions is enough to make a decision

11:32 PM
P: K Ignore me
P: Like for real
Me (via Diana, I couldn't type at this point): I'm way confused
P: Seriously ignore me
P: But if u want clarification
P: :)
P: Ure beautiful
P: Check
P: Smart. Check
P: And as much as my better self knows I shouldn't I'd come see u in a second
P: Not sexual just hi Heidi
P: And pbly obvioulsy a little drunk
P: Check
P: Hope ure enjoyin the show :)

11:47 PM
P: Ignore it all tomorrow

Easter, according to Pothead

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

-Pothead

Romancing: The Match.com Way

I received a message from a guy on Match.com asking me about my week, telling me about his, and then rounded out the nice-enough message with: "I have a theory about you, by the way. :)"

Upon reading that last line, in stepped the side of me that gets defensive when people think that they know me before they actually do, so I responded with a short: "Hi, what's this theory that you've got?"

His response: "My theory is that you like men who are optimistic and upbeat because you like those qualities in yourself but at the same time you feel those qualities lacking in yourself and so want a man to fill them. How did I do? :)"

This, of course, brought out my I-don't-need-a-man-to-fulfill-me side, and I got too annoyed with his lame psychoanalysis to even answer.

I kinda feel sorry for him now that I retype all of this... I mean, was this the best pick-up line he had???