The sexless escort

I think I have begun to unlock the secret of men. They want something that is barely out of their reach. The word barely being the opperative word. Women on the other hand, are more accepting to the full spectrum.

Think back to your high school days, the days when you were applying to college and when the guidence counselor told you to have your safety (the not so good looking/slightly below your league guy/gal who will treat you well), the probable colleges where you have a 50/50 shot of getting in (the guy/gal who is in your league, same family background, carerr aspirations), and the reach school--the school where you could maybe possibly get into but it was highly unlikely unless they were looking for someone with a specific talent (the slightly out of your league guy/gal but who is attracted to one of your many quirks/successes/anything else that makes you look over in your bed and think, "why are they with me"?) Although we all applied to reach schools back in the day, we never would think of throwing our money away by applying to Harvard when we had a straight C average (unless you are President Bush and his family legacy makes him a safe bet guy). Same thing in dating, you know when you have a chance and when your only chance involves hell freezing over.

Maybe that is why I am offended when a snarly ugly balding man with no personality hits on me, buys me drinks, and then PROCEEDS TO INVITE ME BACK TO HIS PLACE. Do I have an inflated view of myself and am really at his level?! Or does he think the 14 yr age difference and him making a shit load of money and buying me drinks elevated his league?! Or the fact that he did not recognize that I was "taking one for the team" by talkign to him so my dear dear friend from college could hit on the much hotter, older gentleman whom I would not have minded talking to.

Getting hit on by ugly men makes me re-evaluate my hotness factor. Anyway,

So my friend is talking to this hot lawyer and I am with bad teeth/baldy/snort when laughing/spit when you talk 37 yr old tech geek. AND I forgot to add that he was 5'5!! I am like 5'6!! IN FLATS!! So in an effort to keep him entertained for my friend's benefit, I turn on the charm that 3 him-buying-me cosmos would allow me to do. Laughing at the lame jokes, smiling, entertaining him with a very edited bullshit rendition of "my amazing supportive family who are creative and hippy-like" and how I "owe everything to them"...you know, the lines that you feed people so that they think you are normal. Cute, quirky, normal...someone who you would want to bring home/someone who you are just so happy to meet. Part of the role that I play in order to play wingman and to keep the drinks comming.

Paying for my company in cosmos and pricey dinners, well when I get back from vacay. Although I do not think I could be seen in public with short/baldy/etc. etc. man.

Maybe that should be a business I open, a business where needy old ugly men can pay for the company of brilliant beautiful women, to play arm candy. To make other women want them.

Other pet peeve of the night and how I knew baldy was a fucking moron.

I do not care what we women may say, what I write in this blog, what is said over dinner conversation in front of "the boys"...we all believe in romance. Every one of us who has said that marriage is a business partnership (especially myself), who tells our friends that we give up, who have tried every single way of meeting men...and then we proceed to say that nobody is out there who understands our subtle contradictions...We are bullshitting. Reality?! We want romance, we want to feel in love and, to make it even mushier, we want the guys to admit that they believe in that swept off your feet feeling. It gives us validation.

So, being the bitch that I am, I ask baldy whether he has been married perviously or any serious girlfriends because I am finding it very difficult to belive that he is still single (rriiiiggghhhhhtttttt)...and he tells me that no. Gives me this bullshit sounding anti-romance sounding answer.

So let me get this straight, you are ugly, balding, and short...and want me to believe that you are anti-romance?!! It can't be because you are playing the field pal. We all believe in it...or at the very least, hope for it without the belief.

And he wants to take me out to some very expensive dinner when I come back from France the following Monday...am I willinging to sell my soul for a free meal?! But then I think about the expense of grad school and how I am out of $$. And a meal + doggie bag = 3 less meals that I need to buy.

In other news, met the Yalie. What a nice sweet guy! He has to think I am an alkie though and a serial internet dater, too bad my conversation was rehashing bad date stories and telling him about a drunken night out...There wasn't a spark...but I had an incling there wasn't going to be one. Plus I have sworn off internet dating...and I really do not want to.

It's 2am once again...

...and instead of being drunk off wine, I am craving a cigg. Unfortunately, I smoked my last one at like 4pm and havent picked up a pack. Not because I am quitting (no no no, nervous anticipation of acceptance/rejection letter keeps me on edge) but because I lacked serious insight into the magnatude of my cravings.

Not that I am addicted. Because I am not.

It's just that it is 2am, I can't sleep, and I need something to do. A lot like prision. Except that the prision is internal and the only key is an acceptance/rejection letter from CU.


Fuck I need a cigg.

Fuck I need a hug.

Fuck, I just need right now...

Far more interesting when I am depressed

Isn't that fucking sad? I only find my creative voice when I am sad, drunk, and pissed off at the world. Maybe I should think about my salary, that always gets me sad, drunk and pissed off at the world.

I was re-reading the shit that I wrote months ago, at the height of my mini-seasonal induced depression and it was good. Raw, entertaining, unapologetic...and then the sun comes out in NYC, I finish up my GREs and hop the pond for a meet up of friends. And now I am fishing for something to write about. I wouldnt say that I am happy because way too much is up in the air CU app, job is sucking and will suck even more very shortly, John John up in the air about France this summer...So where is the writers bloc comming from?

Positives in my life: am not drinking as much (London and my 16 hour drinking session and evidently flashing Gloucester rd doesnt count since I do not remember it and the breaking of so many champagne glasses acting like I was rehearsing my Jewish wedding doesnt count either), am cuttign ties with the personal trainer in an effort to reclaim fiscal responsibility, finding God (going to God's waiting room aka Ft. Lauderdale Florida for Pesach) and reconnecting with old friends that the summers in NYC are so conducive to.