Hiding In The Soup Aisle Isn't Easy, But Someone Has To Do It

When you have had as many dates as I have, you start to see them over and over. 

And not in the good way.  

These are the men you ran away from. The ones where you made an excuse to end the date early. Or worse. They did it to me. 

So, needless to say, it's ... unpleasant ... for both of us to run into each other again. It's like being forced to see a really bad movie all over again. "I paid $10 for this?!," I ask no one, only to buy a ticket for the sequel. 

In New York City, it is surprisingly true that if you do not want to run into someone, you will and you do so on multiple occasions. It is an actual fact. Why? I have no idea. There are only 8 million people here. You think we would have other places to go. But, instead, we all have our patterns and daily routes we go. So, you could end up seeing the same people on the subway or a coffee shop with some frequency. 

I seem to only see people I don't want to at times when I am doing the most NON-ROUTINE things. I have seen an old coworker that I loathed once while buying paint in Home Depot of all places. Or once while running to catch an Amtrak home to Massachusetts. Both times when this happened, I pretended that person did not exist and that they were not really in my peripheral vision, even though they were. 

I always find it to be the best ... revenge isn't really the word for it ... but maybe it is. I just find it to be the easiest, yet best way to handle those moments. It's safer and healthier. 

You don't like me. 

I don't like you. 

Let's pretend we each don't exist. 

However, on both occasions, these loathsome people were looking directly at me. Just my luck! 

Why can't people have the good common sense to ignore someone they despise? Maybe it is a bit WASP-y of me to behave that way, and if so, then hand me a dry martini, a summer home in Connecticut, and a Ralph Lauren cable knit sweater. 

To be honest, I am not normally the type of person to stuff all my feelings into a drawer and keep it there. I am nothing if not ... expressive. However, there comes a time in life and relationships when you realize, it is just best if we never discuss anything ever again and we should never look at each other ever again. And then we can all be happy. 

Now with dating, it is so much worse. For all the reasons you can think of. These are people  who on some level actually know you. 

I am going to share a little story about James. And James (for the sake of the blog) is his actual name. (HA!) 

James and I dated for a little while. He was amazing. On our first date, he passed by a flower stand and wanted to buy me a bunch of flowers, and I said, "No ... no. You don't need to." And then he ... didn't.

I only mention it because it's funny in a sense. When someone says no to PRESENTS, they mean yes.  That is the bleepin' rule when it comes to a "no." All the other times anyone says no, they mean it. But with presents? WE MEAN YES! (This is possibly Rule #405 or actually Rule #2 of dating. Look it up!)

Anyways, James was great. He brought me 3 roses for 3 perfect dates on our 3rd date. Can we say Heaven? We did. He said he couldn't believe we were together and he wanted to be with me for as long as I would have him. He worshipped our time together. He seemed to want instant relationship. That's right! We became lesbians. And it was great. I had never been happier to be a lesbian. Who knew!?

We were even planning for him to meet my family for Christmas. FREAKIN' CHRISTMAS, people! My mom was asking what kind of gift to buy him. And we were even planning a possible birthday trip together to Paris for me next Spring. The world and the calendar were ours for the taking. We were the envy of no one, except for my friends who wanted to see Paris before I did. 

A fun little detail to our relationship was that he would text me every morning. Suddenly, one morning there was no text. And I knew. Later, I received a text at 10 a.m. It was the classic "let's be friends" dumping. It went from Christmas talk to let's never talk again. 

No? 

You think he wanted to be friends? 

Well, do your friends return your text? 

So, yea ... he never did. 

And so, I assumed later that day, he must have been poisoned by his afternoon latte, or he fell into a well and Lassie didn't get there in time. Either way, he was never to be heard from again. Until he was heard from again. Or, should I say, seen again. 

Until ... he got a freelance job at my company. 

YES! He did! He took a job at my company and the building space we occupy is only 4 floors. Did he not think I would bump into him? Well, I did. 

In retrospect, I could have reacted better. And would have, had he let me know he was working there. In my classic (and classy!) response upon seeing him near the elevator as I left a meeting space, I said, "You have to f-in' be kiddin' me!" Just so you know, in the moment I did use the f word. I am just being polite here. 

James quickly dashed into the elevator and moved to the side of the wall so no one, including me, could see him further. I wish I could lie and say that part didn't happen, but then again, I also wish I didn't use the f bomb by the elevators either. Oh well. 

James left the company soon afterward, I think. 

You would think that would be the only other time I would see him then, right? In a city like New York, the BIG Apple? Well, you're wrong. 

The second and only other time I have seen him post-text dumping was while shopping in a Target for hurricane supplies. YES! A FREAKIN' HURRICANE! While I was buying bottled water, bread, peanut butter, and cans of soup, I saw my ex. 

And. He. Looked. Awful. #bestrevengeyet

He appeared to have gained some weight in his midsection. He was no longer tanned. He was in sweats. He was in the frozen foods section, buying (I kid you not) microwave pizza. If the hurricane knocks out your electricity, good luck with that! It was the epitome of sad, if you ask me. 

Best of all, he looked like a Walmart shopper, which was especially sad because - don't forget - we were in a Target! 

Now, you may wonder, so I will just say it. I know how to dress for Target. OF COURSE, I looked adorable. 

Hurricane Sandy, we were told, was no joke. So, on Friday night, I got a good haircut. And on Saturday, while doing errands, I had on a striped nautical tee, some cute slim navy chinos, and my Cole Haan blue and brown saddle oxfords. I. Was. Adorable. 

So, like the ever-good WASP. I walked right past him, although this time I did kind of a sideways glance. I said nothing and did not react, but I wanted him to know that I had seen him. After all, he looked horrible. If this hurricane was coming for me, I wanted to at least have a slight YAY feeling before it came. 

For once, upon seeing an ex, or an old coworker, or someone I loathed, I finally had a YAY moment. It quickly left me when I realized this was a guy who had hurt me, and all those feelings came back. So I did what any good New Yorker would do in this situation. I hid in the soup aisle and called my friend. Thank you, Campbell's! 

But, I reacted in the best way possible. I feel like I did, at least. I didn't ignore and yet I didn't curse to the high moon in an office. I let it all happen, but I let him know I wasn't ok with him being anywhere near me. And I looked good. All in a day's work, I'd say. 

Love,

Greg

I Want To Go "There"

Don't ask me why, but I have recently been watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy. For those that lived under a rock during 2005, it was and (kinda still is) this awesome TV show about Meredith Grey, a TV doctor who was a damaged but lovable girl. She had an up and down love affair with Dr. McDreamy (who was and is still is dreamy or McDreamy, if you will). And the show was just so tortured. Every episode is one big life lesson. Now, I may not completely be like Meredith, nor do I have fun friends like Izzie and George who also live with me, but I can relate.

I like shows - I think we all do - where the person isn't quite "there"yet in their life. We root for them. "Oh ... if you could just find that perfect guy and get married. Oh but not just yet! Of course! Now his ex wife has come back!"

Somewhere, in my tangled life, I have had loves who were lost. ALL of their ex wives came back. I'm kidding, of course. Yet, I can relate to a character who has the family issues (whatever they may be), the love issues, the money issues, the dump your coffee on your lap issues. It's all just popcorn and good times for me to watch because, after all - hey sister, I have been there.

I have even liked it when friends of mine, after being in a relationship, come back to the single world. "Hey, let me catch you up on what you missed." It's almost like I get to refresh their memories on past episodes of a TV show.

The thing of it is, though: I want to get "there." By the way, "there" is this imaginary place in life that every American has created for themselves. It probably involves life, liberty, a car, a McMansion, perfect job, perfect spouse, perfect mistress, perfect vacations, 6 pack abs and tons of money. For me, "there" is something different.

"There" is partially about money. (I mean, this ain't circa 1960 Russia.) I want enough money where I never have to worry about buying yet another pair of shoes if I really want them. I like shoes and I want to buy more. On that front, I am almost "there." Almost. Still got some time on that one, especially since I began to show an interest in the Cole Haan Air Colton Saddle Oxford line. A Burgandy shoe with black croc saddle? How much? Um.... ok!  Again, not quite there.

"There" would also include a nice man. Any man. A pulse. But he has to be around ... like ... all the time. Again, we are waiting on that one.

And finally, "there" would include my own place. I hate a land lord. I hate making small talk with someone I would never talk to. Not unless we are prisoners in a Guadalajara prison. Why Guadalajara, Mexico, you ask? Because! I'm dramatic! And I hear the jicama there is just to die for!

I also really want to own my own place because I hate my bathroom and I hate my kitchen. Those are my 2 favorite rooms after a bedroom. Wink!

Anyways, my point is: I am not "there" yet - and I bet you are not "there," either. That's life. That's TV, too, I guess. And while we don't have a McDreamy (damn, he is handsome!), we have another day to live or another episode to watch. And both usually involve something happening that we have to do or overcome. So, we will probably never be "there." Unless, you are one of those really annoying perfect people that just has EVERYTHING she could ever want (while secretly hiding your pill addiction.) See! Even you need to go "there."

Love,
Me

I Am So ... Lucky

I Am So Lucky. It's all I can think about this week. I survived a hurricane, one in which devastated vast parts of my local area and the Eastern sea board. My work building has been without power all week, and just blocks away from that building, there is still has massive flooding. Subways are getting back to being operational. Wall Street, after 2 unprecedented closed days, is back to business even! (Those greedy little mongers!) It's all getting back to normal. .. slowly... but surely. Because that's what we do. Life moves on.

I have to admit right now to you that this blog post may not be of the laugh-out-loud, hysterical nature. It probably isn't the time, nor my mind set. I do want to point out straight away, though, that life does move on. So, I should try to bring the humor back, but ... it is hard for me right now.

A friend of a friend knew the 23 year old couple who died while walking their dog, killed by a falling tree. Children drowned. Children died from a tree while they had a sleepover. I mean, there are MANY stories about the tragedies, even of the non fatal kind. And that is hard news to watch in the morning -every day this week - while I drink coffee. It isn't the morning news you want to wake up to. In fact, it numbs you.

I woke up the next day after the storm feeling immediately grateful. My eyes opened and, I have to admit, I was surprised. I saw my alarm clock. It was on! I walked my apartment and checked the walls. I looked at my street and there were just a lot of leaves and branches. But everything seemed fine. Only it wasn't.

You see, on Sunday, we were all advised to stay inside. The wind was picking up and the sky had been oddly grey - almost vacant in a way. Sunday, I was home alone. Not much to do. I swiffered floors, I made meals, I snacked, I read a little, I took a 3 hour nap. It was all pretty ho-hum. Monday, our office was closed and the storm was already clearly on its way. By that afternoon, you knew if was time to stay inside. It was dark for sure by 6 and you could see the wind, but by 7 p.m. - well. that was when I really relied on the golden stuff.

What "golden stuff," you ask? Oh just the ol' standby = whiskey! And Bourbon, too! Having now admitted this, I'd like to thank the good people at Knob Creek and Tullamore Dew for getting me through that night especially.

I live alone. I went through the hurricane alone. And so I drank. Not heavily... but enough. As I had told my father when he called that night at 6:30, "Dad, I'm gonna get pretty schnockered." Dad liked my idea.

A good friend, Stephanie, was the constant texter, asking me if I was ok. We had an entire conversation throughout the night and it helped to keep me partially sane. I watched a James Bond movie, an old silly Roger Moore one. A movie I knew would take my mind off things. Facebook was another welcome distraction. I needed to not think about what was happening outside, because to be honest, I was scared.

I live on a tree lined street. The news warned me all too often about trees throughout the day. Trees were certainly blowing. Yet, it was the street light directly across from my window that concerned me far more. From my couch to window view, I could see the street light swaying back and forth. I assumed this is when those 60 mph winds were visiting, but who knows really? I was on my 2nd healthy pouring of whiskey and ginger. I wasn't taking chances. If shit was gonna go down, I was gonna be nice and buzzed, if not sufficiently ... "happy."

I think I even had a vodka something after some whiskey, too. It was 10 pm at that point - why not? My plan all along honestly was to drink just enough so that I could fall right to sleep soundly. I didn't want to wake up in the middle of the storm. I didn't want to hear more noises. I was afraid.

I was afraid because I was alone. Why was I alone?

I was afraid because I could hear things on the roof. Oh why did I have to live on the 2nd floor?

I was afraid because I could hear cracking noises and it almost sounded like it was in the walls. Was my wannabe row house gonna break off, or worse, crumble (like the one in Chelsea did)?

I was afraid because that stupid tree outside is so close to my window in my living room. Will it smash in?

I knew if the roof held that at least I would be ok in my bed. There was just an alley way next to my bed room and no trees or seemingly big objects. But, I am sure, so many go to bed thinking they are fine, only to discover not so much. I was just hoping and telling myself I was ok.

I wasn't worried about electricity or water, or food. Sure, I bought several cans of soup as well as peanut butter and bread (exciting menu!). I bought a semi-decent amount of water for 1 person for a few days. I charged my phone the whole time, even while using it. I did the little things I thought I should. And I live in Brooklyn and I am further inland. I wasn't coastal. So at the end of the day, I figured I would be probably better off than others - and I was right. Fortunately for me.

And that's when it all hit me the next morning. Fortunately for me.

I am so lucky. And whiskey and bourbon companies should really donate to charity for all the advertisements I have said over the past few days. It got me through and into a safe sleep that night. But so many had so much harder of a night than I did. I can only imagine what families are going through. And I feel stupid for getting stir crazy in my apartment on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. So what if I didn't get to go for a run or have some exercise? I had a home, power, heat, internet, electricity ... blah blah ... I had my life!

The numbers are climbing in the death toll and I really have, for the most part, just stopped looking at the news (as ignorant as that might be). I just have turned myself off to it. The two things that have caught my eye is the amount of charity work people are already doing and the controversy of the NYC marathon this weekend.  

It's amazing. People in this area alone and elsewhere are volunteering and donating money, materials. It just shows you the good that is out there in our fellow people.

And consequently, people are upset the city is still holding the race this Sunday. Now, I understand that people feel it takes away from the tragedy, not to mention the perception that resources would be diverted. I could point out that my understanding is the NYC marathon raises money for charity annually. I could show how people travel and have paid for trips to NYC from all over the world already. I could explain how local businesses in all boroughs really can benefit from the customer base. (You know a runner is coming into your bodega for a gatorade or something to eat. It will happen.)

I could go on and on about many points like that - and some would have their counter points. However, you can't deny this. The NYC Marathon is an event that celebrates life - and only someone who has been to the NYC Marathon can truly understand that it celebrates life. I have seen a person with no legs run the NYC marathon. I have seen elderly people run it. I have seen cancer survivors run it. I have seen firefighters in uniform running to honor one of the fallen. People run this race to give purpose to life. If you think it's just a stupid race and there isn't anything special about that day, then you need to get your head out of your ass. Pardon my Irish!

Having an event that celebrates the best about being a New Yorker, that celebrates surviving, that celebrates remembering a loved one lost - this is a good thing. And every day we have on this earth is a gift. And if you DON'T live that day - every day - and push on and make it count, THAT'S when you're disrespecting those who aren't here to celebrate. We should honor the losses by celebrating the day we have today and the possible gains we could have in the future.

Because that's what we do. Life moves on. Life has to move on.

Love,
Greg