Category: New York City

Want Free Drinks? It’s all about the Bacon.

On By KathleenIn Dating, New York City1 Comment

The Forman: Wanna know why we’re not going to have to pay for any drinks tonight?

Me: Yes. Why?

The Forman: Because we smell like sausage! Who needs makeup when you smell like meat products! Men love meat products!

~

After spending the early part of the evening in a small, albeit well designed, Manhattan kitchen, cooking sausage and assorted meat goods, eau de bacon may very well have masked my signature Prada Iris. When we got to the first bar it was clear, The Forman may have been on to something. Out of the mass of people that had crowded into Keats for the night, two tall, blond, good-looking guys walk up and start chatting with us. They threw their offer on the table pretty fast: they’d cover how ever many drinks required for the two of us to grab the karaoke mics and do our best Dixie Chicks impersonation. The Forman claimed hers was 20. I was more honest: 3. So if we wanted, we had our first 23 drinks covered for the night…

We passed on the offer and headed out. 2 hours later, we were at Pegu, New York’s premier cocktail lounge. The crowd there was equally unnavigable. But for this sausage-scented duo, it didn’t matter. The head bartender saw us in the sea and before we could even ask for the drink menu, handed us two drinks on a silver platter, ignoring the thirsty throng vying for his attention. Beautiful alchemy in a martini glass. These drinks were  comped, as were the shots of rum he poured us before he signed out for the night.

So by the end of the evening, 4 drinks down, only 1 to be paid for. Sounded like a pretty good ratio, if you ask me.

The writing was on the wall. Our next business venture: a whole line of beauty products subtly scented with meat.

Eau de Bacon Shampoo. I think it’s gonna be a big seller.

I don't know where this came from, but it's amazing. Guys, you know you love it.

And still they tell me…

On By KathleenIn Dating, New York City6 Comments
Do you know any men who can name this sculpture, where to find it, and who made it?

…to find a rich husband.

I’ve felt pretty run down for the last few weeks. A friend told me it was because Mercury was in retrograde. I had a feeling it might have more to do with the fact that I don’t eat red meat and tend towards anemia. So rather than hit up my psychic for a reading, I decided to head to my doctor for a vitamin b shot.

I walked into Dr. S’s office armed for battle: “a week ago” and “I’m working on it.” But rather than the usual “when was your last period? do you have a rich boyfriend yet?” I was directly confronted with the worst: “So, where’s my invitation to the wedding?”

“I haven’t had them printed yet?” I laughed uncomfortably as he stuck my arm with the needle.

“Seriously, do you have a rich boyfriend yet.”

“Yes, and his name is Gary and he collections art.”

“Really! That’s fantastic.”

“No, not really.”

“Oh. Well just remember, it’s as easy to fall for a poor man as it is for a rich man. Just make sure you fall for the rich one… now please, go eat a hamburger.”

Hamburger? maybe tomorrow.

Rich boyfriend… maybe after the hamburger.

woops! I’m behind schedule… way

On By KathleenIn Dating, New York City2 Comments

When I was 13,  I had my palm read. “You will have many boyfriends,” the psychic told me, “but there will always be one great love, one soulmate for you.” That started the wheels turning. By the time I got home, I had my life-plan all mapped out.  I was going to be married at 25 to that soulmate — ideally, someone I had met at college, hopefully an ivy league college — and towing behind me as I walked down the aisle would be a slew of broken-hearted former lovers.

I hit the 24-mile mark about a month ago and while I was blowing out candles, someone I knew in high school announced her engagement to a guy she met in college. So what about me? What about my schedule… was I engaged at 24, as my life-plan implied? Was there a trail of broken hearts behind me?

Yea…no. Life-plan major Fail.

Why is it that psychics are always so vague? “Boyfriend” and “boy friend”  are homonyms with very different meanings. “Boyfriend” is a term that implies dates, physical and emotional intimacy, lingerie, red roses and the glint of diamonds. “Boy friend” connotes sports bars, sports bras, ball busting, ballgames and platonic nights out. If she had been clearer with her meaning, I would have been better equipped to deal with the next ten years…

I went through college with a 3:1 ratio of male friends to female friends. I spent more time at neighborhood sports bars than I did at Manhattan’s trendy night clubs. By my senior year,  Friday night outings and  foggy Sunday brunches were passed with a group of about 5-7 guys. Girls’ Night Out didn’t exist on my social calendar. The reasons for this were manifold — most of my female friends had boyfriends and were too busy being girlfriends to be friends; it was more fun hanging out with guys because my guy friends and I talked about everything and anything except “boys.”  We’d talk about relationships, if there were ones to talk about, but never was there the ridiculous sharing and analysis of the minute details of a brief conversation with a crush. Guy friends felt safe — they weren’t going to steal my boyfriend.

Yet, while I had a slew of men around me, I managed to make my way through college and most of grad school never having a serious boyfriend. No broken-hearted exes to carry on the train of a white gown. And so, I had to shelf the plan an over-ambitious 13 year old me conjured. The psychic may have been onto something, but I sure would have appreciated it if she had given me a better idea of when this soulmate fella was going to show up.