Category: Love

Mind the Gap: Love at First Sight On the 1 Train

On By KathleenIn Dating, Love, New York City, relationships7 Comments
Waiting on the platform = Waiting for Love?

A future President is about to be sworn in, his parents smile proudly from the audience, and we’re quickly sent on a journey back through the years to the beginning. A man stands on a platform in a train station. In an instant, he locks eyes with the woman surely destined to be the love of his life. The one problem? She’s on another train and it’s about to leave the station. He changes his ticket on his nifty smart phone and before the 30 second clip is over, he’s seated next to her on the train. Life happens.

So goes the  AT&T commercial that inevitably produces a sigh whenever I see it.

In the neat fantasy world of 30-second advertisements, instant connections made in Penn Station or the JFK terminal are never missed. In 30 seconds or less, everyone lives happily ever after.

In the real world, we need Craigslist. If our smart phone fails us on the platform, Craigslist offers us a second chance. Of course, the catch is that our missed connection has to log on and tune in to our broadcast. Isn’t there always a catch in the game of love?

About a year ago, I started reading “Missed Connections” every night before bed. There’s no secret hope that Mr. Right had spied me on the 1 train and tried to reach out through the interweb to find me. Rather, the habit stems from the same inner romantic who religiously peruses the Sunday NYTimes Wedding Announcements. I bask in the possibility that two people can find each other in unexpected places and at unexpected times. Stars collide. Life happens. The cynic in me loves the good giggle some posts inevitably inspire.

An MC post can take one of many guises. Sometimes it’s a digital catcall — a wooowooo directed at a leggy, busty blond walking past a guy on a street corner. Sometimes, it’s a desperate, if not beautiful, attempt at capturing a fleeting electric connection with another human being.

If I were to sit and do a survey, I’d say the number 1 location for a missed connection is the subway. The A train. The 1 line. The B, C, and F. Sometimes the 2/3. Perhaps, in a city like New York, that’s not a surprise. We New Yorkers spend as much time on the move as we do in our offices or out on the town — why shouldn’t we run into the loves of our lives on our morning commute? My parents met one morning in an elevator en route to their respective laboratories at University of Toronto. Perhaps my child’s parents will have met on the 6-train.

Connections are made. Connections are missed. Someone posts an add on Craigslist.

Life happens… in 30 seconds or less.

People passing in by in NYC's Grand Central Station. A missed connection every second

Et Tu, Daddy?

On By KathleenIn Love, Mr. Right5 Comments
It's true there are more male names in my address book than female ones. But it's not a "little black book" list of names. I'm a PJ and they're "My Boys"

I was standing at the laundry sink in our basement, vigorously scrubbing at the oversize blueberry stain on my favorite knock-around sundress (that’s never coming out!) when my father decided it was a good time to get the lowdown on my social life. Though I was armed with spray n’ wash and totally focused on rescuing the pink of my seersucker dress from a purple fate, I gave him an appropriate summary of my outings and updated him on the lives of the friends I knew interested him most.

He was glad I was still in touch with “Tennis” Mike and “Granola” Dan. He encouraged me to visit “DC” Sarah and “New Zealand” Sarah soon (“sure, Dad, if you foot the bill!). He was happy “Cupcake” Cassidy was still fencing and that “Fencing” Mike was still my CityChase partner. Yet, while I thought I had covered all his favorites, it was clear he was unsatisfied with my narrative…

“How come you know and hang out with all these guys and none of them ask you out to dinner?”

I put down the scrub brush, placed my hand on my hip, screwed-up my eyebrows in quizzical disbelief. Had my father,  just asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend? Et tu, Daddy?!  I thought you thought weddings were “grotesque.”

Without skipping a beat he moved on.

“The next day that isn’t too hot, I’m going to make sure you can change the tires on your car. Clearly, you’ll need to know how to do that on your own.”

“Well then,” I replied, “why don’t you also teach me how to change my oil and rewire a lamp, because clearly there isn’t going to be a guy to do these things for me.”

“No,” he said. “I’d better teach you how to load a dishwasher. You can always get a mechanic to change your oil…you’ll have a much harder time finding someone willing to tackle the kitchen when you’re done with it.”

I'm a talent in the kitchen... particularly at making a mess in one.

If My Blog Had Theme Song…

On By KathleenIn Dating, insights/observations, Love, relationships2 Comments

If They Told Me to Find a Rich Husband had a theme song it would be Sara Bereilles’ “Fairytale.”

Skeptical Princesses passing over not-so-enchanted Prince Charmings is not the only commonality between my blog (my life?) and the tune. Bereilles has written a song that is frisky and subversive as well as catchy and marketable — qualities I’m hoping to cultivate  here in blogland.

But it’s a disenchanted Sleeping Beauty that interests me at present…

When that psychic told me I was going to meet my soulmate within the next 6 weeks, she also told me not to worry, I wouldn’t have to do anything, Mr. Soulmate would come to me. If I just went about my day-to-day, he’d find me. If I just sat very still in my life, he’d come rescue me. If I pulled a Snow White or a Sleeping Beauty, he’d swagger up on his white horse, tear away the glass ceiling, and wake me from my romanticized slumber. This forecast appealed to my inner-12-year-old-Disney-fan.

The “sit still, don’t move, play dead” advice seemed vaguely familiar. Where had I heard it before? Was is from my friend who told me that the moment he stopped looking for love was the moment he found it? No… no, that wasn’t the conversation that came to mind. Was it the “don’t chase after him, he’ll chase after you” conclusion that punctuated each chapter of “He’s Just Not That into You?” No, it wasn’t that either.

Ah, yes! I remember! As my psychic prescribed a more passive approach to the future of my love life (“You don’t need eHarmony!”), I recalled a discussion I had with a strapping National Park Ranger… “sit still and play dead,” he said…he was instructing me on how to survive a Grizzly Bear attack.

Apparently, playing dead attracts Prince Charming and can save you from the jowls of an angry grizzly bear. It’s a surprisingly versatile tactic.

I’ll remember that when I go out tonight… and the next time I find myself lost in an enchanted forest.

Playing Dead attracts Prince Charmings but wards off hungry grizzly bears.

They Warned Me I’d Find Love

On By KathleenIn Dating, Love55 Comments

A few days before I left for my 2-week-plus roadtrip to and through Newfoundland, Canada, I stopped in on a psychic. It was one of those post-lunch-with-a-friend-margarita-splurges, so I have something of an excuse for dropping $25 on a tarot reading. I won’t go into the details of her assessment of my future — that’s a story for another blog — but I will say that she rightly tagged me a globe-trotter and proceeded to predict that my soulmate would come to me within the next 6 weeks.

An optimist.

Newfoundlanders have a definite rugged masculinity that has a certain sex appeal

Considering that nearly 3 of my next 6 weeks were to be spent in the rough n’ tumble, fishery-driven, foot-stomping Canadian province of Newfoundland, odds were  50-50 that my “soulmate” would be a Newfie — that is, if you invest any credibility in psychics.

I didn’t necessarily mind that possibility.

Have you ever been somewhere and been hit by an overwhelming feeling that love was waiting for you there? I don’t mean a holiday fling when you’re on vacation. I mean a sense that the real, meaty, lasting stuff is right around that next corner in that city. I was hit with that feeling once — when I was in Vancouver.

Truth is, New York (or perhaps just New Yorkers) has always felt like a romantic deadend for me, (this is not a jaded singleton speaking, it’s intuition). Yet, there’s something in the Canadian air that always makes me feel like  love is possible.  And I’ll confess, I’ve always had a thing for Canadians. Maybe it’s because the men I’ve met there know what I’m talking about when I say I daydream about a Necky Chatham. Maybe it’s because they don’t look like they’re trying too hard when they wear plaid. Maybe it’s the wholesome accent. Or maybe it’s because I’m in the process of applying for Canadian citizenship and I realize marrying one would save me a lot of paperwork.

Newfoundlanders are friendly...go to Living Planet for your own T-Shirt with this Lichtenstein-esque image.

Our psychic might have been on to something?

Newfoundlanders are notoriously hospitable, and everywhere I went in the province I made friends, starting with a retired fisherman/musician I met on the ferry from Nova Scotia. Before we disembarked he looked me in the eye and warned me:

“You’re going to meet someone here. Newfoundlanders love girls like you.”

I laughed, thanked him, and not entirely sure what he meant by “girls like you,” went on my way. I didn’t give him and his warning another thought until a few days later in St. John’s when a local, keen to give me restaurant and concert advice, suddenly stopped our lively chat to say: “You should be prepared. It’s happened before, you know. People come here and fall in love. You’re going to meet someone. Go with it. Newfoundlanders make great mates. They’re very loyal.” He then took his dog and walked away.

It seemed that with every day on the Rock, came another prediction that Newfoundland would present me with new found love. If you’ve seen or read “The Shipping News,” then you have some sense of the real mysticism that hovers over the island. The setting is romantic, the people magical, the tone otherworldly, so with all the forewarning that I would be swept off my feet by a local, I started to think… why not?

It turns out, at the end of the day, they were right. I did meet someone, fall in love with him, and discuss the possibility of taking him home with me…he just wasn’t exactly the Newfoundland stud they might have had in mind…

Newf and I had something special.

I’ve Always Had a Thing for a Guy with an Oscar

On By KathleenIn insights/observations, Love in Brief, romanceLeave a comment

My Dear Readers, a few weeks ago, when I wrote about Richard Armitage, “Spooks,” William Blake tattoos, and my un-concealable nerdiness, I told you that I don’t have celebrity crushes, that “I can’t be bothered wasting my time fantasizing about the perfectly formed pectorals of some actor I’m never going to meet.”

Well, after some consideration and reflection on my younger years, I realized I lied to you all.

It’s true that Matt Damon’s marriage to Luciana Barroso ended my daydreams about wooing and wedding one of Hollywood’s leading men — I’ve come to accept that not everyone is a Katie Holmes (thankfully?). But such was not always the case…

J.T.T. my 12-year old crush

I’m waving the white flag. I surrender. I confess. I wrote a love letter to Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

and to Jordan McKnight… even though I couldn’t even  hum a single New Kids on the Block Song.

Once I moved out of my tween years, I went starry-eyed for Hugh Dancy and Hugh Grant while Russel Crow gave me palpitations (I always had a thing for fellas with an accent).

In early college, a friend and I would burn up study sessions planning how we would meet Ryan Gosling (hers) and Matt Damon (mine), win their affection, secure ourselves as Oscar dates, earn many-carat engagement rings, and live happily ever after. (Don’t judge too harshly… they were advanced calculus study sessions…we deserved the distraction.)

And then came December 9, 2005. Matt Damon got a Mrs. and I got a reality check. Now, rather than embodying the objects of my affections, hunky actors only typify my real-world “type.”

So if you know any “Richard Armitages” or “Gerard Butlers,” please, please send them my way.

Another Reason to Love Sundays

On By KathleenIn insights/observations, Love in Brief, New York City, relationshipsLeave a comment

We race through Mondays to Tuesdays, onto Wednesdays through Thursdays, from Fridays into Saturdays holding a venti, extra-shot, non-fat latte in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Ah, thank heavens for Sundays! For on Sundays, we get to meander through the day holding an iced mocha in one hand and our sweetheart’s hand in the other.

a sweet Sunday at MoMA