Saturday, August 25, 2007

"I Don't Just Hate You, I Hate Everyone"

I used to have mad skills when it came to the unfairer sex. In preschool, I had three boyfriends. That's right: three, tres, trois, drei. Don't playa hate; I was merely meeting my neighbor Nicky for playdates (lucky boy, he even got kisses), holding my classmate James's hand—like everytime we lineuped (dude totally didn't know what was going on, but the teacher totally did and kept trying to get me away from him—and flirting with the upperclassman kindergartener Lee (olda boy!) at recess. But those days ended when I got to elementary school. I still liked boys, but after chasing Anthony-from-Kindergarten around the playground to kiss him didn't work out (I couldn't catch him so it turned into a game of torture), I've kept my affections hidden from everybody--even when I find out that the object of my affection is interested in me.

Needless to say, this is incredibly lame. My friend Laura who is, in fact, the goddess of flirting (and of talking at warp speed), came New York City to visit her Italian lover last January, and me. And we're in a club with the Italian and his Italian friends and one of them is clearly trying to put the moves on me but I'm feeling really silly.

Me: "Laura, I can't flirt."

Laura crosses her arms and stamps her foot.

Laura: "Bridget, we all know that the way you flirt is to ignore whoever you like. How's that working out for you?"

I shrugged. I nodded.

Me: "Bad."

Time Out New York did an article this summer about single women in the city--apparently there are some 180,000 more single women in the tri-state area than single men. There are crazy statistics in that article that I'm sure convinced some diamond hunters to move to the suburbs or Alaska.

So obviously the ignoring tactic really doesn't work well in New York City. So maybe that's my problem. Because it really is so freaking hard to meet people in this city. Or maybe I can really only get comfortable with people after I get to know them for awhile. So I thought maybe I should run a marathon because cause guys like sports. But after going to practice and noticing there was no guys and talking to my co-worker about how he tried to convince friends to train with him, I realized:
a)it wouldn't be manly if you trained with a group
b)fundraising $3900 is definitely a chick thing to do.

So one day when I'm walking home from work in June, I begin pondering my Lame Dating Life and I realize that I probably don't even want to date a guy that wants to live in New York because this city seems to attract assholes. I'm so deep in thought over this, it's like I'm solving philosophical problem of the century, and maybe I just am that I don't hear this guy talking to me. A guy is talking to me and I am ignoring him. By mistake. Not on purpose. Not cause I like him. My thinking cap is on trying to solve this dilema I have just discover so I don't hear what he's saying."

Big Black Man: Girl, I'm not trying to talk to you, I'm just trying to tell you you're belt's falling off.

Look of bewilderment. What's going on? Who are you? Why do you think that I think that you're trying to talk to me?

Me: I don't just hate you, I hate everyone.

Oh my god. Why did I say that? Better run. Better run fast. He was just trying to be nice. I really hate everyone right now.

When I told this to my parents, my dad threw his head back and laughed. Really hard. I got the sense he was proud of me. Proud of himself that he trained me well. My mom on the other hand, had the "I-am-NEVER-going-to-get-grandchildren-EVER" look plastered all over her face.


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