DATE#20: The Parisian Financier.

A Financier is a small sweet spongy French pastry that usually has a light and a dark layer. This Parisian Financier was just as spongy and dry as a banker should be.

I fell in love in Paris once, it was the real romantic French movie kind of love; the kind you read about in books. And when I left it, I knew it would never happen again and over time I feel ok about that. However, that doesn’t mean that my French family will ever stop trying to hook me up with a French man (though that love was an Italian…) just so they can finally call me one of their own (that and the plus of an EU passport).

I go to Paris once a year to visit my grandparents and the first question out of every relative’s mouth is: “When are you going to get married?” My answer is always “Why rush?” Which they find ironic since the American sentimentality is rush, rush, rush… And of course now that the last of my generation of cousins is getting married, it leaves me as the next youngest left in line for the Huppa.

So the last week of 2010, my Aunt arranged a little dinner to introduce me to some nice young French people and more specifically the son of one of her friends. No matter that he is younger (sure not by much though you’d be surprised at the difference 2 years makes sometimes), he works in Finance and is not ugly (fine by French standards) and drives a motorcycle – oh! and wants to live in America – what’s not to like? I figure it can’t hurt to see a Frenchman, just for the fun of it, for one night in Paris. Plus, Paris is uber expensive right now that the dollar is so low in comparison with the euro, I’ve got no problem letting him pay! Thus, when he called just after the New Year, I said, “Mais! Bien Sure!”

He said he was going to show me the “Petit coins inconnue de Paris” (the little unknown corners of Paris), but then he set a rendezvous at the Arch d’Triomphe at the top of the Champs Elysees– the most tourist spot in Paris besides the Eiffel Tower. It was a little after 6pm on Sunday, January 2^nd 2011.

We met on the corner, he carried two motorcycle helmets and was severely under-dressed for the freezing temperatures. I thought right off the bat we were going to take a ride but he hadn't really made a plan. We walked along the Champs Elysees while he contemplated our evening, I did my best to make polite small talk, he mostly wanted to know about how awesome it is to live in New York. After about 45 minutes of wandering in the cold he decided we should take ourselves inside but where, oh where could we go?
He didn't really know but the next best thing to a decision would be a motorcycle tour of Paris.

I'll be honest, wearing a helmet is not hot - you head gets smushed into this giant plastic can, thank goodness the visor goes up so you can breath. It was a fun ride though, speeding through the city, streets lite up for the holidays, whole buildings covered in lights. We stopped briefly in front of the Opera house and I just wondered how it was every built to be so beautiful. We looped around and continued north, jumping the curb to park right outside of the Moulin Rouge.

Of all the places in Paris we could have gone, of all the places I haven't been, we ended up in Pigalle, next to the Moulin Rouge in the district of cabaret dancers and sex shops. We had drinks in an Irish pub, an Irish pub that couldn't have been more American and full of tourists too. I threw my date a curveball when I ordered a Guinness and he ordered a girlie blond beer with peach falvored syrup. In a room beyond the bar, we discovered a night club hosting salsa lessons and dancing and apparently this motorcycle-driving French banker was also a salsa dancer.

We finished up our beers and he picked up the check, I started to collect my stuff to move to the club for a dance lesson when he turned to me and said:

"Do you have 4 euros?"

I looked at him and thought, "Really?" but I said sure in a very nice American accented French. But Seriously? He couldn't pay for a 4 euro beer? I know I shouldn't have expectations, but a certain amount of politeness should be standard - he invited me, he's a French banker, he has euros in his pocket which are worth a heck more than a dollar these days...and it's 4 euros? At the worst his mom, whom I'm sure pushed him to go out with the adorable Jewish American French girl, could have given him the extra 4 euros if it was a problem? Golly.

After we each paid our shares of the beer, I dipped into the ladies room and said I'd meet him in the club for dancing. On my way to meet him, I was stopped at the door and asked for the 10 euro cover charge. I said I was sure my friend paid already but when my French date came to meet me at the door he said he'd only paid for himself. I just smiled and nodded "ok" then pulled a 10 euro bill from my wallet reluctantly.

I'll say he was a good salsa dancer though much to serious, I couldn't stop laughing at how ridiculous we both looked. I used to like salsa dancing, I used to be good at it, back when I danced with the Italian.... But my date this night was insanely rigid in every dance move trying to be perfect and I was like a bouncy ball being pushed around, trying to be relaxed. We both realized how unaccustomed I am to following someone else's lead. It could have also been that he wasn't a very good leader, so worried about his own movements that he couldn't guide mine, he laughed at me once and blamed my ineptitude on my American mentality and a need to be in charge - he wasn't entirely wrong there.

I tired of dancing and I think he tired of my hysterical laughter. We went back to the bar and he ordered two glasses of wine - included in the 10 euros entrance fee we paid for dancing. Keep in mind we were in an Irish pub that had salsa dancing, the only wine they had to offer was a house red that tasted as if it'd been shipped from the US (no disrespect to American wines, but we were in France after all).

At 10:30 I had to call it a night to make it back for curfew - staying with grandparents has it's ups and downs - I figured my date could give me a ride so I wouldn't have to spend an hour on the train. But no, alas, after a short walk past some sex shops, we hopped back on his motorcycle and he dropped me at Opera, a good 45 minute metro ride back to my place. We said goodbye the French way, with a kiss on each cheek, but in such a way that it seemed colder than a handshake.

In the end, I gained the experience of riding a motorcycle through Paris, a reminder of how good I had it with the Italian and an unbelievable sense of pride in myself for who I am now, despite being American and all. Not all together a bad way to start 2011.

Date #19: The Setup Part 2

He asked me out through Facebook. It's not like he couldn't have asked our mutual friend for my number but he didn't. He found me on Facebook and proposed an evening out which I thought was kind of tacky but what the hell.

I headed to meet him at a bar in Williamsburg known for its overpriced Manhattan-esque cocktails. On my walk over I was thinking about another guy completely, but when I walked into the bar I figured the least I can do is give this guy the benefit of the doubt - at least this place he picked is nice.

I sit at the bar and flirt with the bartender until he shows up. He's not late but right on time. We take a look at the menu and I realize we're just in a bar, not a bar/restaurant, so at least it seems that there's no pressure for dinner.

I order my cocktail first but before I can finish getting the words out to the bartender, he's stopped me with:
"Hey, that's what I was going to order"
"So, you can order it too"
"Well, no I can't. On principal I can't order the same thing of someone else, ever."
"Hunh?"
"Well, I don't like to do the same as other people. And if we get the same thing, then we can't share."
"Who says I want to share my cocktail with you anyways? We just met."

He ends up ordering something different and requests the bartender to put 1/4 of the regular amount of alcohol in his drink. I think it's strange he'd order 1/4 the alcohol- I mean, I'm sitting here drinking the full amount, is he judging me for that? He admits he is, but then tastes his drink and finds its alcohol content suddenly too low then strangely asks the bar tender for only another 1/4 more alcohol.

I try not to think about it and our conversation takes a more interesting turn into architecture, bacon, concentration camps and books about human lampshades...

Somehow I past the test of drinks and he invites me to join him for dinner. We walk around a couple of blocks, a little out of our way so he can walk down a block he's never seen before, to check it off his bucket list. We decide on Thai and go into another too-swanky for Brooklyn, overpriced restaurant. We wait for a table at the bar and I insist on letting him order first so he can't base his order on mine. He doesn't ask the bartender to alter the ounce of alcohol like before, maybe he just needed to pace himself...

We sit at a table towards the back and start to review the 20-page menu. I mention my like of Pad Thai and he jumps saying that's what he was going to order, but of course he won't if I do. I tell him how stupid it is that he wouldn't order something he wants just because someone else wants the same thing... He confesses its because he wants to just try new foods and really wants to share. Share my food? To me it's a reflection of his inability to make decisions, or to stand his ground.

In the end, we decide to order some appetizers and one main dish to share, it turns out to be more than enough food. Our conversation takes a strange turn to discussing Ayn Rand, pheromones and the laws of attraction. We talked about some scientific theories a friend of mine shared with me about why and how men and women are attracted to one another. The subconscious desires we have for certain kinds of the opposite sex, the reasoning behind why women makes babies with one kind of man but then choose another raise those children with... It seems logical, make babies with Brad Pitt raise'em with Bill Gates or Brad Pitt too I guess. The whole Pro-creator versus Provider relationships...maybe not the best 1st date conversation but interesting and enjoyable none the less.

After 10 minutes on the subject of panna-cotta and me explaining why women liking chocolate has nothing to do with sex, we decided not to order desert. We continued to talk for the 15 minutes it took the waiter to return with the check. All the while, my date is looking stressed and annoyed that the waiter is taking so long with our check - as if I'm suddenly no longer interesting or he has some place else to be.

I do my duty as a good date and offer to split the check, he doesn't take me up on it but then thanks me a little too profusely for offering, as if he's never had a girl offer to pay her share. He explains to me that all girls just expect the guy to pay - as if we still live in some pre-feminism 1960s society. I told him point blank I didn't need him to pay and I wasn't look to marry him so he could relax. I thought he laughed.

Pretty quickly after he paid, we left the restaurant and he walked me to the train. He shook my hand and kissed my cheek and did the whole "nice to meet you, we'll do it again soon." But as I got into the train I had a feeling, somewhere along the evening, we both decided it wasn't going anywhere, subconsciously maybe.

At about 4:00am that night/morning, I awoke with food poisoning and figured that was a sign. Not sure if it's a sign that in Williamsburg on should stay away from too-fancy-for-Brooklyn places or that we just had bad chemistry. The next day the guy emailed me, said thank you again and pulled the "I'm really busy in the coming weeks but..." and "by the way, did you get food poisoning too?"

Date #19: The Setup, Part 1

A couple of weeks ago I attended a birthday party for a friend of mine. She had given me hints ahead of time about another friend of hers (an ex-friend who happens to be male) who would be also attending and, well, according to her I just had to meet him.

We met subtly at my friend's birthday dinner along with a bunch of other folks. On first glance, I'd say I judged him pretty thoroughly in his crisp leather jacket, overpriced jeans and patent leather shoes. I thought, this is a guy who tries too hard and is maybe a little too comfortable with himself and his metro-sexual-ness.

Somehow we ended up sitting next to each other at the end of the table and over hibachi and cocktails we filed through the typical first date questions. Fortunately, being as it wasn't a date, I could easily turn to my right and speak to someone else when I got bored.

It's not that our initial conversation at the dinner was boring, but even after a cocktail or so I kind of didn't care what he had to say - I was there to celebrate my friends birthday not flirt with her ex? Maybe that's what bugged me, knowing my friend dated this guy? He was charming enough but knowing her what was it that brought them together and what does this guy suddenly find so interesting about me?

We talked about his job, and how much more interesting mine is that his. We discussed favorite TV shows and movies and a mutual sexual attraction to Jon Hamm.

I'd say we enjoyed dinner, singing happy birthday and laughing at the precision with wish our hibachi chef threw shrimp into his hat.

On our walk outside as a group we all said goodbye, he hopped on his motorcycle and head back to his deep Brooklyn apartment. I had a feeling he'd ask me out, he was just too polite. But he didn't then and didn't ask for my phone number so the girls and I just walked to the train giggling as girls do...

DATE# 18: Well...it almost counts...

I really didn't think I would have time this week for a date. I've been busy, I'm producing a movie for goodness sakes. And, honestly, after receiving a bit of grief over the summer for dating for the sake of dating and not for the seeking of a mate, I've slowed down. It could also be that turning 27 ages one some...

But this week I found myself wanting to do something to get over the feeling that I can't date someone I might like to date because it's just not possible. Does my rambling express well enough my sentiment? I mean, it's not really fair that I meet someone I might like to even consider dating and I can't try to date him because of elements out of my control. Everyone knows I'm someone who needs to be in control.

I found this guy on one of the dating sites I still belong to and he proposed an afterwork trip to the farmers market. We exchange a few emails about it but my schedule is kind of packed. I'm only in the city for a week before I leave again for 2. I tell him I'll let him know if a day frees up.

Miraculously, it does. I email him (we never exchanged numbers) on the train back from visiting a friend in Tarrytown, and he responds even though he's still at work (he does computer marketing.) I tell him I'm headed to Union Sq, does he want to join for some market shopping? He suggests we meet at Barnes & Nobles (typical 'I got no game plan' plan) and I say great, I'll see you there.

I obviously get there before him, the cafe is packed but I squeeze into a shared table and work on my iPad, being very productive. Every now and then I look up but don't see anyone that looks like what I think his picture looks like. I try to remember his face but really just hope he remembers mine. I told him I just cut my hair, short short, but didn't think that makes a difference, does it?

I think it does. When he was 20 minutes late and not responding to my email of "hey, you still coming?"

I was working and didn't notice the time pass or how late he really was. Just a few moments after I sent him that "you're late asshole"-esque email, I saw someone who looked like him standing just beyond the cafe area. He looked up and right at me. I smiled thinking it was him, and started to stuff my crap back into my bag. But when I looked up again, he was gone. Was I mistaken? Was it in fact, not him? Or was it and had he changed his mind upon seeing my magnificence?

I'll be honest, I was more than a little perturbed at this chain of events. I had half the mind to run after him, grab him by the arm and ask him who the bloody F buckets did he think he was? I didn't, mostly cause I shop at the Union Sq B&N alot and wanted to be welcomed back... I just left feeling even more superior than the rest of the world, I mean, I'm awesome, I'm the bomb, I'm producing a f--king movie (sure, a short but still...) and still manage to look halfway good despite being stressed out my eyeballs and not sleeping. Who the f--- did he, or anyone, think they were to walk out on me!? Or stand me up? Livid is too calm a word to describe me in that moment.

He did, however 10 minutes later, respond to my email with: "So sorry. I left you a message, I'm held up at work. Raincheck!" So maybe it wasn't him I saw in the B&N, or maybe it was and this was his polite way of backing out, covering his ass... Of course, I never gave him my number directly but it's on my email signature... But I never got that voicemail, and I've played that game before too: "Sure, I totally left you a message, it must be the fault of AT&T, so sorry!" Uh-hem: BULLSHIT.

He Calls When He Says He Will....

If you read Date # 17, you know I met another perfectly good guy I have no idea what to do with. Sure, a decision to return this fish to the sea should be easy seeing as he lives 8 hours away but just a few short days after we parted and I was on my way to forgetting his name, he called. Yeah, he called when he said he would and it surprised me.

I know I shouldn't allow myself to be surprised but that was the whole point in throwing expectations out the window. When you don't expect anything, of course you'll be surprised! And life is much more exciting when it's full of surprises.

A phone call shouldn't be so exciting, or even a dozen of them over a few week period, but lets face it, this is how girls think. They sit around filing their nails, drinking cosmos and wonder with each other as to why a guy hasn't called, if she should call him or text him or what the F? And if/when a guy does call, we have no idea what to do or think and basically we are genetically scarred.

I was recently out with one such girlfriend who couldn't understand why her boyfriend hadn't called or texted her with plans. Why had he not responded to her calls or texts? How disrespectful, what a douche, who does he think he is? And why on earth isn't he thinking of me? I thought - should I be thinking all of these things too? It's too stressful! However, later that same night, Pittsburgh guy did call me out of the blue, unexpectedly, and I had all the answers to my friends questions.... Your boyfriend probably isn't thinking about you for a whole 5 minutes and that's why he hasn't called, because if he wants to call he will. How do we, as women, not know this?

Of course I'm stressed out about not caring if this guy calls or not. I mean, it's super nice, but I don't know if I remember what he looks like let alone how he kisses. We aren't Facebook friends (how could we be with all the shit I'm saying about him?), we don't email, we don't really text - maybe twice... We talk on the phone like we're in the 7th grade and our parents are downstairs listening in, it's all PG, he's never even asked what I was wearing. And then I totally forget that we haven't spoken for a week until he calls and I let it got to voice mail just so I can hear how he pronounces his full name all over again.

And for the record, I'm not going to Pittsburgh so whatever this isn't, it's going to stay that way until he comes to New York, if he ever comes. But I will admit, I do wonder what it would be like, to get to know someone who laughs at your bad jokes AND calls when he says he will, and sometimes even when he says he won't...

DATE #17: The Wedding Date

If it's not already apparent by my crazy dating spree and reactions to many a man... I am a long far way off from having a wedding. And actually, possibly even further away from even wanting one. But who doesn't like attending them? I mean how can you not love watching the extreme displays of romantic sentiment: the mothers crying for their sons, the fathers tearful over their daughters, oooh how lovely that flower is in her hair and how handsome does he look in that tux? All those feelings poured out all over the place can quite possibly warm even the coldest of hearts. And then of course the open bar and the dancing help too, allowing you to suspend your disbelief and believe in happiness and love as you see the beautiful couple kiss in the sunlight and you think: "there is no way this marriage is ending in divorce."

I went to one of those beautiful, sentimental weddings this past weekend far up on Lake George at a summer camp that glows at sunset. I traveled up with some work buddies but no intended date, the bride and groom promised singles abound so I wanted to be open.

It was a perfect summer day, clear blue sky and sunny. We checked into our bunk cabins went swimming in the lake, then dressed for the "ceremony". The bar started serving before the ceremony and while standing around waiting for the couple to arrive, glass of wine in hand, I met a few friends of both the bride and groom. Among them a cute boy from Pittsburgh, and before the couple said "I Do", we were laughing up a storm and trading stories about the groom.

The couple exchanged vows in about 5 minutes in one of the most elegant, relaxed and unpretentious weddings I've ever witnessed. Then of course it was back to the bar and a picnic style dinner on the lake shore.

Mr. Pittsburgh and I were seated at adjoining picnic tables and bonded over the mediocre burgers and excellent mac and cheese. Later, we followed the newly married couple, their family and friends, over to the camp event hall for dancing, dessert and silly photos (oh, and more wine!). I managed to get all the boys I work with to dance with me (even though they were terrible) and eventually Mr. Pittsburgh himself asked me to dance - after our 3rd trip to the bar together and it was a hysterical good time.

The party wrapped up fairly early so the newly weds could hitch a boat to their nearby B&B and the guests staying at the camp headed to the bunks for a camp fire. Mr. Pittsburgh and I took the long way back to the campsite and just past the rock climbing wall he stole a kiss. We were suddenly fifteen and out past curfew.

We headed back to the bunks and changed out of our dancing shoes and into campfire clothes. We sat around the fire with 20 of the bride and grooms best 20-something friends, roasted marshmallows, made s'mores and shared silly camp stories over beer. Then Mr. Pittsburgh and I walked back to the lake. We sat on a bench at the water's edge and listened as some other wedding guests were reprimanded for jumping in the lake off the nearby docks and waking the neighbors.

As we kissed, I flashed back to my first kiss, 10 years and little more than 1 month ago on the shores of lake Michigan at summer film camp at Northwestern University. It was past curfew then too, and every sweet childish kiss felt like trouble. I thought for a moment, in 10 years I haven't emotionally evolved all that much I guess... and we never really do escape those traumatizing teen years when everything changes. And yet, in this moment, making out on the bench waiting for a camp counselor to catch us and send us back to the bunks - felt incredibly liberating and exhilarating.

Of course then I asked him if he knew my name and his hesitation made me laugh so hard the neighbors light went on and we feared for being caught. He said it started with a "g" and was too hard to pronounce. I figured it didn't matter anyways.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning we walked back to the bunks and found many a fellow guest still gathered round the embers of the fire but getting ready to head off to bed. Mr. Pittsburgh walked me to my cabin door and kissed me good night, then invited me to meet him for breakfast the next morning (about 5 hours later).

In the morning, I didn't rush to find him nor sit with him at breakfast. I was significantly less confident than the night before and looking at him across the breakfast buffet thought maybe he was just a cute boy and nothing more. But then, he put his arm around me at the breakfast table in front of all his friends and all my friends and I must have been plum in the face. I am a girl after all and well shit, it was adorable. (my normal self would barf at this!)

After brunch we went back to the lake, skipping the Bride vs. Groom family softball game (the Bride's team won). We swam, we played Marco Polo, sunbathed and watched my friend show off and almost drown himself diving headfirst into 2 feet of water...

The afternoon came too quickly and we all had to hit the road for hours of late Sunday driving back to our respective cities. We helped each other pack our camping gear, kissed goodbye and exchanged numbers. He said he'd come and visit NYC, I said there was no way in hell I was going to Pittsburgh. He said he'd call. He said he'd facebook me. And all of the normal "he said..." garbage girls get giddy over.

Sure, he hasn't done any of what "he said" which is fine because realistically, it's not like a summer wedding fling thing ever goes anywhere. But the girlie part of me wants him to facebook me just so I can say "denied" (I wouldn't want him to know about the blog, now would I?) And yet another girlie part of me still does want him to call... Shit, someone tell Taylor Swift I have her a new song.

DATE #16: Let's Talk About.... Exes?

I think i've always been known as a good listener, thats of course when i actually shut my mouth long enough to hear what someone else says...

I met this fine young gentlemen at an event for NYU's Continuing Education program - I'm thinking of taking a class or two - at it was an open bar info session to get people to take their classes. I stayed about 5 minutes but in that time met this boy at the bar. I don't think i've met any of the guys i've dated at a bar...its so cliche. He was green eyed and wore a clean button down shirt and slacks, in more a banker way than a sexy business man way...

We very briefly discussed what we do, he's in finance but looking to make a switch and thus was considering some courses in non-profit start up. I had a meeting to run too but we exchanged cards in an attempt to network. Who knows, i may have a non profit to start one day.

He emailed me the next day, a nice to meet you kind of email and a " maybe we could grab a coffee sometime soon." I responded with a "sure". Of course my schedule has been beyond overbooked recently so i told him he'd have to meet me somewhere near work for maybe just one drink or a coffee or something quick and get to know you thing.

We met two days later, he texted me on the way to my office and asked how i take my coffee. I didn't have the heart to say I don't drink coffee after 3 pm, so i went with an iced decaf coffee, black with a sugar. He actually met me right on the ground floor of my office building, coffee in hand, and we went for a walk on the pier. It was a beautiful 95 degree day.

I let him start the conversation which was the boring stuff asking about what exactly it is i do and why do i work in an old Meryll Lynch building.... I wanted to discuss his non profit ideas but he suddenly, unexpectedly switched the subject to: "just so you know, I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

I just laughed even though I found this odd. Didn't he ask me out? I mean it's fine, its just coffee no need to discuss relationships but does that mean he just wants a one night stand? Doesn't seem the type but might be cute enough to consider..

But then he continued: " I just got out a really long term relationship. About3 months ago. And you seem really nice but I'm still in love with this girl..."

Great. Can i have a barf bag please? I find a relationship kind of guy who most definitely does not want one with me cause he still thinks he has one. But i couldn't leave him standing alone on the pier (when he mentioned this girl i started to worry he might jump in the Hudson). So i decided to listen, and more horrifically, asked him to tell me all about her, maybe i could learn something.

They were together for 5 years, she wanted to get married and he hesitated just long enough for her to get out the door. But bah, blah, the more girls he meets since she left the more he realizes he wants to be with her. Sounds like every romantic comedy that should be happening to me!

I didn't say anything for a while and when he was done and my ice coffee well melted to coffee flavored water, i opened my bug mouth and called him a putz. Then i fed him all my romantic idealism about fighting for the one you love and if its meant to be it will be and all the BS i so often and readily reject these days as I become more bitter about my own situation. Of course, i do remain hopeful and I will spread that romanticism like a little fairy to those in need in hopes maybe karma will come back to me.

Basically i told the guy to call her - he actually hadn't since she left! And if he really loved her and it was really meant to be, i wanted an invite to the wedding to meet his single friends. At least i got a laugh out of him despite wanting more from him cuteness.