I wanted to make out with someone.
An ex. A hot guy at the bar. I didn’t care. I needed to feel lips on mine.
Ever since Jason and I broke up (more about that later) I’ve been in a sort of man-rut. I’m obsessively focused on getting my book published, which means that I’ve 100% neglected my already non-existent love life. My coffee, adrenaline and goal-driven existence was distracting enough for awhile. At first, I didn’t even notice the lack of man-ness in my life.
Then on a Thursday night, after writing furiously for hours, I sat down on the train next to a good-looking hipster from Brooklyn. The woman on the other side of him was slightly heavier, forcing serious proximity between the two of us. As his leg was squished next to mine, I started to feel the body heat emanating from both of us. And, I’ll be honest…It felt gooooooood. Now, I know it’s proper train etiquette to move your leg when it’s touching a stranger’s leg… and I could have done that. But I didn’t. Because it had been a long time since I’d been touched by a man.
When the hipster exited the train, he was replaced by another good-looking man, this time in a business suit. As he sat down and shifted around, I carefully placed my leg so it would be touching his. I settled comfortably, waiting for the body heat. After two stops, he stood up and instead of exiting the train, turned his back to me and awkwardly stood three feet away, where he stayed for another ten stops. As I stared at his back, laughing, I had a revelation: I was creepy person on the train. Shit. Things had gotten that bad.
In that moment, I made a decision. I needed to makeout without someone.
So I texted some of my main ladies and said, “We’re going out tonight and I’m on the prowl.” I carefully straightened my hair, put on a sexy dress (and by that I mean a wool dress covered in an animal moose print) and was ready to strut my stuff.
I headed out with my roommates to meet our friend, Kim, at a bar she suggested. Kim is in a serious relationship, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that our first bar was a classy wine joint. She’d been out of the game too long- the only single men at a classy wine bar are there with their girlfriends. After a couple of drinks, I cajoled everyone into leaving. C’mon, I was on a mission!
We were on the Lower East Side, which meant that we were just a few blocks away from the famous Katz’s deli. I’m-in-a-relationship-and-I-don’t-have-to-try Kim insisted that we go get Pastrami sandwiches. Wait. What? That’s like the antithesis of making out with someone.
But I went.
And I ate pastrami.
And then I used a ridiculous amount of lotion to cover the meat and pickle smell. Things were going downhill fast.
We walked into the next bar and I immediately scanned the room for prospects with the tenacity of a drunk fratboy. I saw a few lingering targets in the corners and decided the odds were looking better at this joint. So, I put on my game face, squared my shoulders and…sat at a table with my friends. There were six of us, a few in relationships, so it made sense to get a table. But in hindsight, no man wants to approach a table of six good-looking women (which we are, in my humble opinion). So the evening took the turn for the expected as we all talked to only each other, laughed, and looked at pictures of someone’s cat. I wish I was joking about that last part, I really do. The good news though is that one of the members of our group was a Lesbian and she was hilarious and kept buying me drinks all night- so I guess that’s something.
Towards the end of the evening, three members of our party left. 30 seconds after they were gone, two males swooped in. As a cute Jewish teacher put his hand in the small of my back, I should have been excited. He was definitely make out material. But it was late and I was tired. The pastrami was not sitting well and I wasn’t sure I wanted to kiss someone who was 2am wasted and had squinty eyes from drinking too much. It was probably gonna be sloppy and there was no fun flirtatious buildup.
So I called it a night instead. And went home. And sat a little too close to a dude on the train. -Olive