Hope you all had a great holiday!
1) Thanks for the feedback/questions/comments/date requests! You 2-3 readers really make me feel like I'm not talking to myself...=) My second favorite comment thus far (#1 being an email from DownByTheHipster!) was from my friend John, who said, "Wow, I thought your blog would be more cultural, not Sex and the City on drugs." Obviously, you overestimate me!
2) I will hold off from telling you about my weekend, so I don't sound like some out of control party chick. Actually, nymag.com has already stolen my thunder...but more on that another time. I met Steve Aoki, who is totally cool and so down to earth. Sorry, my only name drop!
3) The photos on this blog are from my crackberry. I like being able to take photos without anyone knowing that I'm doing so...
Onto my story...
About two weeks ago, my coworker/friend Matt thought of a little project with which he could amuse himself. Ryan, a friend of Matt's, writes for Single-ish, a blog on Glamour.com about his dating life as a young, single, straight guy in NYC.
Matt thought that Ryan and I meeting up was a particularly brilliant idea, as it would mean that 1) he would be amused to read about Ryan writing about me (...especially amusing if it was unfavorable), 2) I would get a honest description of the first impression I make on men, with no risk since Ryan is a tactful writer and does not use real names, and 3) Matt assured me Ryan is cool, so I might end up getting along well with him. Since I couldn't recall being set up before, and I can't say my own instincts with guys are stellar (the sniper, the train guy, etc etc), why not? Worst case scenario is that he's psychotic, which is no problem. I have dealt with a grown man sobbing into a Bellini in public because of me, so I can think I can handle almost anything.
Unfortunately, Ryan asked Matt if I knew about his blog, so incentive #2 was off the table. After performing some due diligence (Facebook profile analysis, naturally), I agreed to have Matt email Ryan a picture of me along with my contact information.
So, Ryan and I met up early Thursday evening, at a bar in LES. I have this rule that you should never look your best on a first date. Of course, this is assuming you were looking great when you were asked for your number prior to the first date, which is not the case if you are being set up. However, I think getting three hours of sleep the night before, then running around all day in extreme heat and humidity, and not having time to change isn't exactly putting the best foot forward. My bad! Although I could care less because as I was going to meet Ryan, I found out this blog was linked to nymag.com; I freaked out since I was originally writing just for a few friends, so I had to figure out how to take this blog down ASAP. If that's not a good excuse for tardiness, I don't know what is!
Anyway, Ryan seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Sorry, nice is a lame descriptor - we chatted for maybe an hour and a half, and he seemed interesting, fun, friendly, and has a really good sense of humor. He's cute and has a tattoo on his forearm - hot! As for what he thought of me, we shall see (uh, read). I have to admit though, I felt a little uncomfortable talking to him, which is really unusual for me. Not to worry, a friend of mine who works for another Conde Nast magazine mentioned she can hack into Glamour's site and edit, if need be. Not sure if she was kidding, but how sweet of her to offer! haha...
This reminds me of "Street Date", a feature in the Oxford Student I never missed when I studied abroad. Two random students would be set up, then each person would describe their perspective of the date, and their opinion of the other person. The best part is that the parties involved had to quantify their date's looks - must have made for some pretty awkward run-ins at the Bod, no?
July 7, 1984 - March 9, 2006
Happy birthday, I miss you so much!
May God bless you and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.