A New York Nuisance

In addition to my proclivity for excessive alcohol consumption and bad decision making, I've also come to realize that I have a natural tendency for attracting the attention of some serious fucking weirdos. Perhaps I should make stop making eye contact, smile less often, or simply adopt the same leave-me-the-fuck-alone attitude that seems to be inherently New York, but that's just not me. Fortunately, this means I have stories to share.*

*Some details have been omitted for public consumption.*

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1) The Aussie Anomaly: If you've ever been on spring break, you'll agree that this is not the week you should attempt to meet the man of your dreams or forge lasting relationships. At best you've acquired a few facebook friends who you'll never speak to again and ultimately end up de-friending when you realize that it's ridiculous to have 432 friends. Apparently the Australian man I met in Cancun did not get this memo. After approximately an hour of conversing, (in which time I managed to consume 4 tequila sunrises and 2 shots of Patron) my new Aussie friend suggested we take a walk on the beach. While I'm expecting some shorefront making out, the Aus has a different plan. From what I recall, the conversation involved me moving to Australia to meet his family, get married, and mother 3 of his children. I respond by suggesting we go to the wet T-shirt contest at Senor Frog's.

If that doesn't scream motherhood, I don't know what does. **************************************************************************************
2) Philly's Folly: I met this character from Philadelphia through a friend's boyfriend. As a result of my glass-half-full perspective and some pretty thick beer goggles I seemed to think that he was cute and funny. He was also really into me (which should have been my first clue that he had some issues.) We exchanged numbers and spent the next few weeks e-mailing/texting before I agreed to an actual date. To his credit, he came all the way to Manhattan just to take me out to dinner. He had researched Italian restaurants and had worn a purple shirt (remembering both my favorite food and my favorite color.) What happened next was not pretty... for the sake of brevity, I'll describe the highlights of the evening:

- We rendezvous in Penn Station: he is not as cute as I recall and is sweating profusely.

- We arrive at the restaurant: I immediately down two glasses of wine as his nose starts bleeding. (His explanation was nerves, but in retrospect I realize that he probably had a coke problem.)

- We walk to a bar for post-dinner cocktails: The conversation is not going well, my solution is to get pants-shitting drunk. (In case it's not obvious, this plan will completely backfire.)

- He goes to the bathroom: I begin drunk texting my best friend to say, "I'm having a horrible time but at least I got a free dinner."

- I go to the bathroom: Leave my phone on the bar, not expecting the guy to check my sent messages... He will wait until later to reveal this.

- We go meet up with some of his friends in Hoboken: At this point, I am not only starting to hate this guy, but I hate Jersey... I insist that we get Bud Light 40's for the PATH.

- I'm not feeling well: I try to keep it together for as long as I can, but eventually give up and start to not so quietly hurl in his friends bathroom. I emerge with glassy eyes, and ask him if it's okay if we call it a night.

- He agrees to walk me to the train: He asks me if I had a nice time, I politely lie and say "yes, thank you." (Fortunately the puking deterred him from leaning in for a good night kiss) Just as the train doors were closing he angrily yells out "Hey! At least you got a free dinner!!"

The food wasn't even that good.
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3) The Jersey Shore Jerk: I should have known simply from his geography that this kid was going to be a complete tool, but rather than react like the jaded bitch that I can be, I decided I was going to give him a chance. After meeting at a bar in Red Bank, we exchange numbers and part ways. Not 15 minutes later I get a text message saying "You are the coolest girl I've ever met." A bit much, but who doesn't love a little ego boost. He calls two days later to say that he'll be in the city and he'd love to take me out to lunch*

*Lunch dates are absolutely ideal for feeling out a new person. They're non-committal, non-romantic, and can always be cut short if there's an "emergency at the office."

I could never have predicted that this guy would have brought a gift. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for presents, but it was neither my birthday, nor Christmas, nor any other holiday that could possibly warrant gift-giving, especially not on a first date. I unwrapped the cell phone case and couldn't say a word.

That's not even the worst of it... In the gift bag was a folded piece of paper.... containing his RESUME. Did he think I was interviewing him for a job?? I was completely speechless, which was fine because motor mouth was in the process of explaining the many reasons I would be lucky to date him. It had something to do with his parents wealth and his successful career. He failed to mention his debilitating arrogance and social ineptitude.

I pretend as though I received a phone call, mumbled something about a library emergency, and took off down the block leaving the cell phone case, the resume, and the weirdo in my wake.
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Commuter Creepers - I hate riding the bus. I've had two miserable experiences on the N22 express bus that takes me from my parents house to Jamaica, Queens. In fact, it makes me reconsider ever going to my parents house.

4) First there was the bus driver. When I was living at home, I saw him every day at 7:25 AM. I smiled and said good morning, because well, he seemed like the kind of guy that would appreciate that, and I'm hoping that if he feels appreciated he'll be less inclined to lose his mind and crash the bus. I incorrectly assumed my friendliness was harmless, and learned otherwise when two weeks later, I was handed an envelope as I boarded: "To the Girl on My Bus."
Fuck, that's me.

In 2nd grade chicken scratch handwriting the letter reads: "My name is Rich. You have a pretty smile. I almost quit my job until you started riding my bus. My fiance broke up with me because of my drug addiction. I want to take you out. Please let me know if you have a boyfriend. My phone number is XXX-XXX-XXXX."

I find a new route to work.
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5) Then there was the middle-aged maniac. This man could not have been more clueless if he tried. He was well over 40 and balding. I'm fairly certain I'm wearing my do-not-disturb face while I pretend to be both listening to my iPod and intently reading. Apparently my brief glance in his direction when he sat next to me gave him the green light. He unoriginally began the conversation with "what are you reading?" Disinterested, I show him the cover of Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs and flip back to the page I was on. Sensing that I'm a no-nonsense kind of chick, he cuts right to the chase.

Maniac: Let me take you out to dinner.
Me: No thank you, I have a boyfriend. (Blatant lie)
Maniac: I bet I'm better than him- I own a house and 4 vintage cars.
Me: Well, he owns two houses and 6 cars. (Even bigger lie but it's sorta fun to pretend that I not only have a boyfriend, but that he's loaded)
Maniac: Well why don't I give you my number anyway so that when things fall apart with him you can take me up on my offer. (He begins furiously scribbling ALL his contact information, complete with a pager number and two different e-mail addresses.)

I am forced to move my seat because this man is relentless. I actually choose to wedge myself between an overweight woman and someone with very questionable hygiene. I will never take this bus again.
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These characters are a few of the many reasons New Yorkers are naturally jaded and judicious about engaging in conversation with complete strangers.