Hahahahahahahahahaha...
So, more insight into the twisted mine of a raving romantic. I am unable to buy single tickets to concerts. I just can't do it. I can go to dinner by myself, see movies by myself, have sex with myself, you name it. But a concert? nope. So there are all these bands I really want to see and I always end up buying two tickets to them way in advance and then when the date gets here I have nobody to go with. Which is fine. I'm sure I'll just end up asking somebody.
In December when I had tickets to go see the Lemonheads nobody could go with me so I posted an ad on Craigslist. Like 2 dudes and 3 girls replied. sigh. I think the dudes were interested in my Lemonhead.
http://rabbitsongs.com
That's the website for this band Hem that I really really like. The lead singer's voice (Sally something) would be perfect singing lullabies. plus I think she's really fucking sexy. I have tickets to see them on Thursday at Lincoln Center. Two tickets. I bought 'em last November at some point.
I think I figured that by the time February rolled around I might have somebody to go see them with. Oh well. I might just ask my friend Gwynne.
I think that there's an enormous emotional detriment to thinking like that though. I suppose that if I had to look at yesterday through that filter, of always stressing myself out emotionally over whether or not someone is really out there, etc,etc, blah blah blah then I would have to say that I handled myself pretty well. My friend Shannon and I made a long term contract that if neither of us had a baby within 7 years (at which point we would meet to renegotiate for a possible 3 year extension) we would throw the proverbial tie on the door and get down to business. Then, of course, the Superbowl was on and the Steelers won. I had em up by 7. Shoulda put money down. Congrats Kevin. Then my buddy Dan showed up to the bar and I was off. I decided that I could have a little beer on Superbowl Sunday. That wouldn't hurt. Then at Black Betty I decided I could have a little bourbon. Then a little rye. Then some Chimay. Then another beer. Then a lamb kebab.
I faintly remember raking a cab home from Bedford Avenue and talking with the driver about Steely Dan. Then I gave him a twenty on a 5 dollar cab ride. sigh. How am I ever gonna pay for the nursery for my fictional little Baby if I keep spending the middle class food stamp so freely?
That's another problem! Usually I'm pretty good about the whole vagrant population. If they wanna get on a train I'll put them on a train, if they want a sanwich or pizza i'll but them a slice. But just the open ended money? well.......fine I give them that too. But during the holidays, for that week that I was drunk, I was handing out twenties to bums like I was made of money. Okay...maybe like 3 bums. But still - that's sixty bucks. That can buy a lot of lamb kebabs, you know?
I had a little extra cash cause I had made a lot of money off of this private party I worked at one of my bars in Brooklyn. It was for this loosely affiliated semi-mafioso glass/construction outfit that hired a lot of mexicans. They closed the bar down and hired a bunch of really skanky looking strippers/hookers to dance. Once of them was faintly attractive. She gave me her number. Said I was nice and that she'd give me one "on the house." Shudder. I don't know what "one" is.
You know what's kind of funny? I used to think that you couldn't get over a hangover until you pissed, shat, whacked off, and ate something. Now I think it's just whacking off and eating something. Like I had a werid superstitious thought that until you explelled all of the fluids/solids in your body that were infected with the alcohol the hangover would remain. Nice thought, eh? These are the reasons why I can never find somebody to go see shows with.
Aaaargh! Stop. Stop it. I'm being unfair. I do get asked. And people do give me their numbers. I am doing a great disservice to any of the women that have actually asked me out by pretending that I am completely alone, etc.etc. I have had offers but I think that as you get older you become more and more attuned to what and who it is that you are attracted to. At least I have. I think that I honestly know within a few moments of meeting someone whether or not I will actually want to be with them for any substantial amount of time. One ex-girlfriend told me "when we first met, didn't you feel like we were going to have sex?" Now I wouldn't be so crass. But yeah, in hindsight when we did meet there was a certain feeling, an attraction, some quicksilver. But then she had to go and fuck it all up by pulling this bullshit arguing for arguing's sake so that I would prove that I really care. Whatever - the sex was really good. But I think that you do get a sense of these things from the outset. Whether or not you act on them is another thing entirely. But when they come along I don't think you should waver too long on whether or not to act on them. Because then you might miss your window and end up masturbating in the dark to Billy Joel and crying. Not like I do that.......a lot.
So, more insight into the twisted mine of a raving romantic. I am unable to buy single tickets to concerts. I just can't do it. I can go to dinner by myself, see movies by myself, have sex with myself, you name it. But a concert? nope. So there are all these bands I really want to see and I always end up buying two tickets to them way in advance and then when the date gets here I have nobody to go with. Which is fine. I'm sure I'll just end up asking somebody.
In December when I had tickets to go see the Lemonheads nobody could go with me so I posted an ad on Craigslist. Like 2 dudes and 3 girls replied. sigh. I think the dudes were interested in my Lemonhead.
http://rabbitsongs.com
That's the website for this band Hem that I really really like. The lead singer's voice (Sally something) would be perfect singing lullabies. plus I think she's really fucking sexy. I have tickets to see them on Thursday at Lincoln Center. Two tickets. I bought 'em last November at some point.
I think I figured that by the time February rolled around I might have somebody to go see them with. Oh well. I might just ask my friend Gwynne.
I think that there's an enormous emotional detriment to thinking like that though. I suppose that if I had to look at yesterday through that filter, of always stressing myself out emotionally over whether or not someone is really out there, etc,etc, blah blah blah then I would have to say that I handled myself pretty well. My friend Shannon and I made a long term contract that if neither of us had a baby within 7 years (at which point we would meet to renegotiate for a possible 3 year extension) we would throw the proverbial tie on the door and get down to business. Then, of course, the Superbowl was on and the Steelers won. I had em up by 7. Shoulda put money down. Congrats Kevin. Then my buddy Dan showed up to the bar and I was off. I decided that I could have a little beer on Superbowl Sunday. That wouldn't hurt. Then at Black Betty I decided I could have a little bourbon. Then a little rye. Then some Chimay. Then another beer. Then a lamb kebab.
I faintly remember raking a cab home from Bedford Avenue and talking with the driver about Steely Dan. Then I gave him a twenty on a 5 dollar cab ride. sigh. How am I ever gonna pay for the nursery for my fictional little Baby if I keep spending the middle class food stamp so freely?
That's another problem! Usually I'm pretty good about the whole vagrant population. If they wanna get on a train I'll put them on a train, if they want a sanwich or pizza i'll but them a slice. But just the open ended money? well.......fine I give them that too. But during the holidays, for that week that I was drunk, I was handing out twenties to bums like I was made of money. Okay...maybe like 3 bums. But still - that's sixty bucks. That can buy a lot of lamb kebabs, you know?
I had a little extra cash cause I had made a lot of money off of this private party I worked at one of my bars in Brooklyn. It was for this loosely affiliated semi-mafioso glass/construction outfit that hired a lot of mexicans. They closed the bar down and hired a bunch of really skanky looking strippers/hookers to dance. Once of them was faintly attractive. She gave me her number. Said I was nice and that she'd give me one "on the house." Shudder. I don't know what "one" is.
You know what's kind of funny? I used to think that you couldn't get over a hangover until you pissed, shat, whacked off, and ate something. Now I think it's just whacking off and eating something. Like I had a werid superstitious thought that until you explelled all of the fluids/solids in your body that were infected with the alcohol the hangover would remain. Nice thought, eh? These are the reasons why I can never find somebody to go see shows with.
Aaaargh! Stop. Stop it. I'm being unfair. I do get asked. And people do give me their numbers. I am doing a great disservice to any of the women that have actually asked me out by pretending that I am completely alone, etc.etc. I have had offers but I think that as you get older you become more and more attuned to what and who it is that you are attracted to. At least I have. I think that I honestly know within a few moments of meeting someone whether or not I will actually want to be with them for any substantial amount of time. One ex-girlfriend told me "when we first met, didn't you feel like we were going to have sex?" Now I wouldn't be so crass. But yeah, in hindsight when we did meet there was a certain feeling, an attraction, some quicksilver. But then she had to go and fuck it all up by pulling this bullshit arguing for arguing's sake so that I would prove that I really care. Whatever - the sex was really good. But I think that you do get a sense of these things from the outset. Whether or not you act on them is another thing entirely. But when they come along I don't think you should waver too long on whether or not to act on them. Because then you might miss your window and end up masturbating in the dark to Billy Joel and crying. Not like I do that.......a lot.
posted by Ben at 10:05 AM
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