Catch Me If You Can (pilot part I)

Above me lives a hot, witty pilot. Equal parts Ryan Reynolds and Catch Me If You Can. I had lived in the building for the better part of a year before we met. He held the door open for me as I carted in an ambitious armful of freshly folded laundry.

It was a good while before I ran into said neighbor a second time. I'd just come home fresh off the heels of a 'lets (just) be friends talk' with my bff/crush and was venting via my cell phone to my pal Steve. Clad in my best 'I presented at Goldman Sachs today' boring suit/glasses/bun I was fighting the lock to the door of my apartment when I heard a familiar, 'hello.' Door now open, I asked Steve to hold, turned, leaned into the door jam, took down my hair and echoed my best nonchalant, 'hello' back.

My 'new' neighbor walked over to my door, asked how my day was and offered his phone number. Pointing to the phone I said something to the effect of how I couldn't take his number as I was on a call. I also added that I was sure I'd run into him another time. Stepping into the doorway he asked, 'Gotta pen?'

After jotting down his number and intentionally 'forgetting' and asking his first name to scribble next to it, I said goodbye and closed the door giggling. It was at about this point that I heard a distinct 'hellllllll-llllllllo?!' from my phone and realized I'd left Steve hanging.

In the following weeks, I joined neighbor for a football game, invited him to a bbq, stopped by with leftovers from said bbq and watched half of Season 4 of The Office on his couch. I made jokes about his stomping and he made jokes about my piles of newspapers. He introduced me to the locals and I introduced him to my pals. He made a big deal out of bringing down a shiny and newly washed casserole dish (from aforementioned bbq) and I 'accidentally' locked myself out so he could lead me down the fire-escape. That night we spent some time getting to know each other better on my couch... that is until he freaked out having just realized that we were neighbors and that anything serious was probably unadvisable.

The next two weeks were touch and go and it was clear he was fading out. It was during this time that I locked myself out, for real. I buzzed his apt. He came down. I invited him to my Halloween party the following week as I followed him up to his apartment. He insisted he climb down the fire escape for me. He let me in to his apartment, introduced me to his parents - yes parents- and jumped out the window. Literally.

There I was, shaking his parents hands. Introducing myself as the neighbor downstairs while his mother exclaimed 'Oh! You're casserole girl. He was so proud of how he washed that casserole dish,' and his father inquired 'Why did our son just jump out of the window?'

Light years later he was back upstairs and I was out the door. A week later, after next to radio silence, I got a txt apologizing for his having gone MIA. It seemed he was out of the country and was now back... back and working on his Halloween costume.... back and working on his Halloween costume and waiting on his girlfriend.

Apparently letting me know that he was waiting on his girlfriend was his way of letting me know that he had gotten back together with a girl he'd mentioned once.... when he was telling me how they split up because she was the jealous type. He let me know that he could have sworn he'd introduced us.  I let him know that I thought he was 'a passive dick.'

- To Be Continued - 

Are we that intimidating? : Starbucks the bargin hunters meat market

I was sitting in Starbucks for the second Sunday afternoon in a row, working on a business plan for my client's ad campaign. This means I've spent a total of about seven hours at the Columbus Circle Starbucks in NYC across two weeks and probably seen close to a thousand faces enter and exit during this time. Old, young, female, male, foreign, first generation, parents were on the Mayflower... all types.

During this time I've also gotten a few 'moves made,' as outlined below.

I. Cute, mid-twenties, NYU B-school guy.
A. Approach: Kept making eye contact and an attempted smile across our computer screens from two tables over.
B. Duration: 2.5 hours
C. Response: A smile or two from me.
D. Result: Nothing. He left before I did and before saying anything.

II. Friendly, mid-twenties, Nigerian, Big Smile
A. Approach: Stopped by my table and introduced himself, said he noticed me, I was pretty and seemed friendly, did I live in the area could he ask a question or two about museums?
B: Duration: 10 minutes
C: Response: Advice from me.
D: Result: Turned down his offer to attend a museum with him but did say thank you and good luck.

III. Internet programmer of undefined mixed race, mid thirties, a bit goofy and hyper
A. Approach: Asked what a 'beautiful princess' was doing working. Kept calling me your heiness and making bad jokes about the Starbucks bears on display by my table.
B. Duration: too long, 10 min. maybe
C. Response: Awkward laughter, turned down giving him my biz card as our agency has developers
D. Result: I was sufficiently weirded out, esp. the 2nd time he tried before leaving... making the bears dance

IV. Handsome studious looking gent, early 40's
A. Approach: Asked to share my table, later kept making too long eye contact, occasionally bumped leg (not occasionally enough to be accidental).
B. Duration: 30 min.
C. Response: Awkward shifting of seating arrangement. Have a good evening from me.
D. Result: I got up and left.

V. Well dressed, late-twenties hottie!
A. Approach: Exchanged eye contact in line, smile or two, came over right by me (cross about 12 people) in the 'pick up' line, shifted weight from foot to foot awkwardly.
B. Duration: 12 min.
C. Response: Much exchanged eye contact, lash/hair flipping, adjusting and smiles from me.
D. Result: Guy didn't have anything to say after 'hello,' then got on phone. Seemed to stall and pace outside of Starbucks. I remained inside to WORK. He left.

VI. 30 years old, getting tutored in English at adjacent table
A. Approach: Teacher slipped me a note he'd written on starbucks napkin. 'I must say, in my years in New York I have never seen anyone who possessed a face as beautiful as yours......(insert more cheesiness)” with contact info.
B. Duration: 2 min.
C. Response: Thank you from me.
D. Result: Slightly awkward still sitting by guy. Not calling. But flattered.

VII. 45 year old, sloppy white guy, lots of bags and a beach towel
A. Approach: Asked me to watch his belongings while he ordered. Sat by me after ordering playing with a baby at the table next to me. Figured he knew the people as he asked me for advice with his internet girlfriend
B. Duration: again too long 15 min.
C. Response: . I suggested he log on at the Apple store.
D. Result: He asked me about work, quipped that I was ‘too busy a lady for romance,’ and left. Turns out he didn’t know the people with the baby either.

After all this I was left thinking JAY-SUS would MR. BIG approach a girl in a Starbucks? And in walked Chris Noth... then Anderson Cooper. Neither made a move.. but we won’t blame Anderson and we don’t need Noth.

Now I'm sitting here wondering why it is that guys in my (I won't say league, but I will say 'within my own culture and age group’ for lack of better terms) can't talk to a girl? Have we become so intimidating that only foreigners and weird old dudes will take the time to talk to us? So what is it guys?!!

1. 

The Work Hottie: Does Frank Wear a Size 7?

As I'm sure every girl can attest, there's at least one guy in the office that makes it easier to come into work everyday. The type that smiles at you in the elevator, asks you what floor you're going to and sends your IQ plummeting 20 points as you try to say something more clever than 'ummmmm uhhhhh eleven please."
Take that and amplify it by the fact that I work in advertising. This means lots of cool girls, a hand full of equally cool gay guys and very few eligible straight bachelors. Suddenly the guy described in paragraph one stands out like True Religions at a 2005 sample sale. It's not that I condone looking for romance in the workplace. Sure office crushes can keep life more interesting, but stats show that a surprising amount of people do meet their matches at work... so it keeps us all hopeful.
One three day weekend a couple falls ago ... I was out with FIVE of my favorite couples. at 7B on a Sunday night. This was odd because for once. While I adored the company of the ten friends around me, and they're the types that make sure to include the single girl, I inevitably found myself wishing one of my single girls was out as well. That and I kept getting bits and pieces of non-single advice such as, "date someone older than you; guys your age aren’t looking for girlfriends."
As their charity talks continued, I started panning the empty bar. No prospects. My friend Gina is also panning the empty bar, but she came across a find... an old-fashioned photo booth at the back of the bar.
We scampered over, inspected the booth and laughed at the 'example photos' on the machine. We also realized that we were a dollar short. As if on cue, in walked office hottie. I don't know if it was the 'seemingly scripted moment,' the Sunday afternoon drinking or the new location but this time I didn't hesitate or trip over my words. In fact, I thought I was pretty slick as I glided over and asked to borrow a dollar.
Office hottie was slicker as he answered, 'Sure, on the one condition that you promise to share the photos and come over and say hi after.'
Five rounds of photos, several additional borrowed dollars, a few rounds of drinks and a couple hours of conversation later, I was kissing office hottie in the photo booth. This continued outside of the photo booth, and outside on the street until office hottie’s friends- who were just in town for the weekend- got a bit annoyed. They hailed a cab and demanded that the pair of us get in or get left behind. Being that it was last call, the former sounded more enticing.
Thus the three of us ended up on the UES 20 minutes later on, hottie's couch, watching ESPN. Despite my protests of being polite, hottie drove his friend almost to the point of nausea as he 'put on the moves.' His friend, Sean, made this point clear when he demanded the couch, a blanket and a pillow.
I took this as my cue to exit. I followed hottie into his room to help with the blanket and pillow - and to say goodbye with out the criticisms of friend-on-couch. Hottie took the blanket, etc. to his friend and asked me to stay put. I could see what he had in mind, but I had already resolved to leave. Clearly this wasn't the scene I'd had in my head on all those awkward elevator rides.
I also realized that he was taking too long to return. Thus, I did what any girl would do. I began to look around the room. This is when I noticed the following:
- He was very clean and organized = good
- He had excellent taste in shoes = very good
- We had similar tastes in music = excellent
That's when I began to notice smaller details such as:
- A photo of hottie and a cute girl = perhaps it's his sister?
- Secret sparkle pear-scented deodorant = strange
- Cute strappy high heels = WOAH!!
I picked up the heels and managed to hide them behind my back quickly as hottie re-entered the room.
"Hey you... question for ya?" I asked coyly.
"Of course... anything?" he replied
"OK... how many people are staying with you this weekend?''
"Just Frank who's MIA and Sean who's on the couch, why?"
I managed to keep my grin as I pulled the heels from behind my back and smartly inquired "Hmmm. Does FRANK wear a size seven?"
It was now his turn for his IQ to drop 20 points as he managed to mutter something intelligent like "uhhhhh ummmmmm."
To which I replied. "Look, I'm not going to hate you, or make a scene here, but are you seeing someone?"
More, "Ummmm uhhhh I don't understand," followed by, "could you repeat the question?" Clearly he had taken some of the same 'stall while you think of answers,' training classes I had.
Suddenly the spell wore off. "It's easy. DO YOU have a girlfriend?'' I asked again not so nicely.
"I don't see what you're getting at."
"OK the right thing to do in this situation would be to see me out and get me a cab. I'm going home."
Well he did respond well to his request. Apologized to Sean-on-couch, walked me down the stairs, flagged a cab, handed me cab fare and didn't even mention work.
Needless to say this experience didn't serve to make elevator conversations any easier.,. though I did give me the upper hand and has done plenty to dispel the aura of the office hottie. It also supported my friend’s advice that older guys are more likely to have girlfriends.
*For the record I've kept all names- and incrementing photographs- to myself. It's just not worth more than a laugh.
** Hottie has moved on to another line of business.

The iBanker PH test

In addition to honing my skills as a creep, snob and all around weirdo detector (seriously if you've got a borderline questionable male in mind I can identify them... I should charge for this service, I'm just that good) my friends have nominated me as the number one litmus test for identifying all banker-types in the New York area.

It's not something I'm proud of, much less is it intentional, but it seems I have an uncanny knack for identifying the single ibanker in a room full of similarly dressed and styled twenty-something professionals. The amusing part of this ability? I'm oft completely unaware of said gentleman's background until mid-conversation. I know, I know you're thinking ‘what are the odds? Aren't there like 200,000 of these types in your age group on the isle of Manhattan?’ Buzz off. I could walk up to someone in a clown suit selling hotdogs on Delancy at noon on a Wednesday and they'd turn out to be of the financial services persuasion... it's a curse.

This particular proto-type are a dime a dozen in this city and I've learned to avoid guys with tell tale signs such as:
- popped collars
- polished lines that probably originated in a lemon lot if not a Will Ferrell youtube spot
- a certain swagger that only an overpaid coffee runner can master
None-the-less, call it All American charm, but I seem to find myself meeting more of these 'gentlemen' than HR Department at Lehman Brothers.

So fast-forward to last Friday. My college friends, who I haven't seen since graduation, are visiting. I offer the choice of MPD swank or West Vill College Dive, and we find ourselves at a dive bar downtown. I soon find myself protesting to the DJ that, in addition to the most popular sublime and Greenday songs of the last decade, any good dive bar should add some blue album Weezer, the Toadies or for God's sake at least some Filter in their repertoire. Heaven forbid they play something 'unheard of’ from the past two years... but that's what the LES hipsters are for (which is a totally different rant).

Apparently my criticism attracts a group of high-energy, goofy-but-fun beer bong players. My friends and I are invited to watch the 'tournament' and our new found friends seem to be pros. They also seem to be relatively harmless but it becomes clear that this is a ploy to win us over and I'm just not interested in more than conversation. That, and I couldn't hit the wide side of a barn door with a ping pong ball much less a solo cup.

Making my retreat to the bar, I volunteer to keep watch over two of my friends’ pitchers and order up an H20 on the rocks while they go outside for cigarettes. This serves to distance myself from the Beirut table and also allows me to reflect that whilst college friends visiting may be a good excuse for ''college behavior," I'm glad I've outgrown a lot of the drinking games of yester year. I'm also becoming increasingly aware that I'm now left wide open to the frat boys at table pong should they lose... I'm hoping they'll win.

It's at this point that a much more "my-type" guy makes an obvious joke about my large supply of beer given that I'm drinking water. He follows this by a more observant and clever comment about my state of affairs with beer-pong extraordinaire. Impressed I continue the conversation, noting:
- slightly cheesy line, but no strikes out as of yet
- no popped collar
- nice sweater
- no mention of a "high-profile career."
It isn't until well into the conversation, and not until after my friends have returned, that I discover my new cute companion is only in town for the week.

Figures. But, as the alternative is a)leaving and disappointing my college friends who are talking to his mates, b) heading back to the table, I stick it out. Conversation never hurt anyone, right?

After several prodding questions I learn the following:
- he is in town for a dinner function....work related? no
- rehearsal dinner/bachelor party? no....
He's in town for a recruiting dinner. That's right; I'm spending my Friday night talking to a very smart, cute JUNIOR from Michigan State.

Brushing the cradle robber comments aside by my tickled friends, I find myself reverting to college party questions. I hesitate, and then ask, 'so what's your major?' No sooner does what I'm saying register before I hear the answer.

"Finance, I'm thinking insurance or banking.... not the most fascinating subject but you can make a ton of money doing it."

I'm not sure what my expression was but he started defending his position really quickly as my friends practically fell to the floor laughing. "This is a new degree of super sleuthing.... awesome."

The night ended well, but I'll never live that one down. Next visit I'm pressing the issue that we hit up somewhere with more expensive drinks, and less 'green' patrons.

Yey team. Score one for the kids.

Hey Shorty - Finding 'love' at a sports bar

So my happily-coupled friend Jen and I are out watching my team lose terribly on Saturday when (well into the fourth and shamefull quarter) she points out this really cute, tall, dark, stranger that she thinks I should talk to. She clearly loves living vicariously through her single friends and is psyched with her sighting. I'm thinking what's the point? But, it seems that the handsome stranger and I have mutual friends. I make a deal with Jen that we'll talk these mutual friends and if this leads to us talking to him... bonus, otherwise it was never worth our time.

My scam is genius and, within minutes, we hit it off with the guy she'd selected for me. This goes really well for about half an hour until I called the guy "shorty." This was clearly a joke as said guy is well over 6 feet tall. However, apparently this pulled the trigger on some reverse Napoleon complex because the next thing I know he was reeling and asking me to guess his height.

I guess 6'3." Wrong answer.

Jen backs me up because her bf is 6'5" and this seems right to her. Wrong decision.
'Shorty,' claims to be 6'7". Thinking this is a joke we played along and tried to laugh the 'mistake' off.

'Shorty' isn't having it. He got really defensive and did everything from asking his 6'3" friend to stand next to him to challenging Jen to a fight.  Attempting to be witty he then demands that Jen get a piece of paper and sign a permission slip for before said fight.

As the situation was getting ugly, and there were mutual friends and football watching-peers about, I did everything to smooth the situation. I jokingly renamed 'shorty' 'Geoffrey'' (ala Toys R Us), admitted false fault, nothing worked.

Jen and I finally decided to change the subject and back away slowly. We let him know it was nice to meet him and that 'look at the time we're off to another bar.' We picked up our purses to make a quick exit, started to turn and heard 'wait.... would you girls like to go to another bar with us?' Us meaning 'shorty & co.'

We politely declined. This led to a confrontation over where we were headed. But, standing under the shadow of a persistent and potentially crazy giant, we threw out 'Off the Wagon' random. We had no intention of going to Off the Wagon, we're just looking for a near by haven with lots traffic to and fro... and thus, lots of witnesses.

Shorty/Geoffrey then decided it was time to insult our choice of venue. He gave a passionate reprimand on how Down the Hatch (same vibe and management as Off the Wagon) is the obvious only decision.

This time we allowed him to revel in our ''ignorance'' and when he turned to the bartender to close his tab, we fled.... to Off the Wagon as we figured if nothing else, crazy-tall-guy was too proud to back down and be be seen there.

No clue if it was the testosterone, the competitive sports vibe or a chemical imbalance... but I've learned to shut my mouth during sporting events and hope for first downs not first dates.