My vagina made me do it.

That the quickest way into my pants involves a bizarre sense of humor and a steady supply of weed.

He had free tickets to the dress rehearsal for Actéon and Dido & Aeneas over at BAM. I’d never been to the opera before, so I was game. I zipped up my thigh-high patent leather hooker boots. We met up outside. We strolled in and loaded up on the free coffee and Rice Crispies treats. We pleasantly bantered back and forth.

The operas were amazing. I particularly thought the performer who played Dido was wonderful, even if the character Dido was a bit lame. I’m sitting there watching a moving piece about a woman so heartbroken that she dies. All I can think is “What bullshit. You can live your life without any man.” Which made me think of the only time I was really heartbroken.

This was about a century ago. I remembered thinking I never wanted to feel like that again. But I learned you can live without anyone, so I pretty much just wanted to slap a fictional character.

I digress.

To be honest, this dude wasn’t Richard Gere, but for some reason I had to continuously restrain myself from groping his thigh.

Repeatedly.

He had nice thighs…

After the show, we exit, and he says he’s not sure if he wants a beer or if he should just go home, since he had to be up at 5 am.

I took this as a hint he wasn’t interested. I said I understood about the early call.

He said he didn’t even have my number.

I told him he could email me.

Then I pointed out that shit had gotten super awkward.

He agreed, then reaches in to hug me. I can’t figure out why he bothered.

Don’t expect to hear from him again.

Who knows? He could surprise me by climbing my balcony. Except I don’t have one. I suppose he could take the elevator…But I’d be seriously creeped out if he found out where I live.

Stalker.

After considering canceling this date I realized all the best dates are the ones I look forward to least. I was feeling tired, lazy and oerwhelmed, but he made me laugh, so what the hell?

We met at Franklin Park on St. John’s. My new favorite place in the hood, from the decor, to the music, crowd and general vibe.

The Olympics were on the tv, and they were showing footage of Vancouver Island. I swear they shot it from the exact place I stayed. Freaked me out.

This boy was adorable. He reminded me of a cross between Michael Emerson and Charlie Day. He was wearing a cute sweater. I dug his style. There’s an awareness without fussiness, which I like. Super fancy dudes make me uncomfortable.

I had a Belhaven, we chatted. He’s pretty damn funny.

At one point he went up to the bar, and kind of bopped to the music, and I realized this boy could DANCE. Swoon.

I ran out of money, so we rocked the ganj back at my place. The dog seemed to like him. Good times.

I wish I could remember more details.

So this dude offered to take me to the dress rehearsal for SNL last weekend, to be followed by fondue at Artisanal. He already wins.

My magical evening began at 30 Rock. He’s someone somewhat fancy, so we didn’t have to wait in line. He gave his name, and some chick came to get us. We got seats right in front of the stage that the musical guests perform on.

I have to say, he’s pretty funny, humor injected with a slight bitterness. I can relate, since I spent the entirety of my 20’s as bitter as uncooked broccoli rabe slathered in orange peel and basted in ear wax.

Anyway, this date was totally clouded by my wonder and excitement of seeing how SNL works. It was an amazing experience. The set changes flow like a well-oiled machine.

I totally want to be a boom mic operator now, by the way.

I wan’t impressed by Ashton Kutcher in the dress rehearsal, but he made up for it during the actual performance. In the ‘Fistfight in the Parking Lot’ sketch, Dave Grohl’s mic went out, and Ashton was on it. I was impressed.

Anyway, we grabbed a cab and headed for the cheese, which was amazing. Hard to believe I’d never been there, considering cheese is my religion. We chatted. It was lovely. Then we walked to the subway and went our separate ways.

Someday, love will find you.

Break those chains that bind you.

Ok. I’m stopping.

You know I still love you,

Though we touched and went our separate ways!

I lied! Nothing can stop Journey! Nothing!

After much rescheduling on my part, we finally met up at Lolita Bar in the LES. I knew it was him since he made a face at me. He had a funny laugh, which made me laugh harder. As he was spurring me on, I told him I had a huge vagina. Gotta love a man who either gets when I’m joking, or straight up doesn’t care.

He had on a super cool True Religion Western-style snap front shirt with trapunto stitching. I asked to borrow it so my place of business could knock it off. He agreed.

This guy was cool.

He said he thought the date was going well, which took me a little aback because I had yet to get my drink.

FINALLY I got my damn bubbly. I told him that I had celebrated my 30th birthday at that bar. He said I already told him that.

I’m old. I repeat myself.

I didn’t tell him that I had also been there before that to see a show, where I ended up kissing a 20 year old. This was 4 ½ years ago, but still, I’m a pervy old bag. I assumed he was 21 at least. How would I have known he had snuck in? I was new to town, and he told me he had never been kissed.

That move works, fellows.

Anyway…Back to the date. We chilled, we laughed. He has a place on Fire Island, which he promised to take the dog and myself to, even if the date thing doesn’t work out.
All in all, he was mad cool. I had a good time. It also takes a lot of pressure off when someone offers to be friends. I meet so many cool people, but they typically don’t want anything to do with me once they know I ain’t putting out.

Or they want nothing to do with me AFTER I put out.

We both had to rush off for other engagements, and he kissed me goodbye. He told me I was a good kisser. I responded with something obnoxious like “Yeah, I KNOW.”

I celebrated my 30th birthday at that bar.

Twice now.

I’m not nearly as clever as I think I am.

I saw some dude on the subway and he looked at me as though he recognized me, double take, smile and all. And I thought “Did I go on a date with that dude?’

After a minute I realized no, no I didn’t.

Whew!

After a series of missed phone calls, we finally met up at Jakewalk. I admit it. I had hopes of weaseling some cheese out of him. It didn’t work, since he wasn’t hungry.

Grumble….

Anyway, I was late. I’m not even sure how so, because I didn’t gussy myself up. I wore sneakers and a t-shirt, since all my fabulous boots need to go to the cobbler.

He was very fancy, cashmere sweater et all. And really good looking. I was surprised and nervous. Glad the joint was dark. (My roots were showing.)

We split a bottle of primativo, which went down way too easy. I’m never the one to first finish a glass, but my date was quite chatty. Also, he spoke some crazy business that went way over my head. He claimed to not be on drugs but I think he may need them.

I found out that he manages to embarrass his 5 year old daughter. This is awesome.

After some insecure rambling about my slovenly attire, I promise to doll up for next time. He said he hoped so. I said I’d wear my prom dress.

Then I recanted, and stated that I’d show up in my dead grandmother’s wedding dress.

This sufficiently weirded him out, so I knew he was hooked.

And since he grabbed hold of my hand, I knew I was right.