A Certain Romance
So you know that part in Almost Famous when the kid turns to Kate Hudson and he goes, “just when and where does this real world exist?”
That’s exactly how I feel right now and here’s why: dating. Or you know what, let’s go with non-dating. Because that’s what we’re doing here in New York in our “oh wow, you’re still so young” ‘20s.
At [take out boarding school so you can’t track me down] you were either like, married, or you were hooking up inside the photo lab at night and the next day, it was no talking. At [take out college so you can’t track me down] it was the same, except with less vodka and more conversation. Why are Ivy girls always so conversational?
A tangent. Anyway.
Now it’s like, I’m old. If I dated a high school girl, I’d get arrested. If I dated a college girl, I’d get roped into long conversations about my feelings, probably, because again, they’re all into "talking". But it seems like everyone in this city is either in a hardcore, Eternal Sunshine relationship… or they’re hooking up behind the ice machine at La Esquina and then underneath some ottoman in their living room. Or if they’re really wasted and I haven’t planned the evening well, they’re hooking up in my living room. Poor form, my friends; poor form.
So now that I’m back from vacation, I’m thinking of something impossible: actually dating. Not just one girl cause then you get the married vibe; especially if the photogs catch you and then you’re a Thing, and there’s nothing worse than a Thing. But I can’t date too many girls because, to be honest, I will forget one of her names. Probably as I’m taking her clothes off. Not cool. So let’s start with two. Let’s date two girls and figure out if there’s a happy balance between krazy glued together and misbehaving underneath my ottoman. Although, to be fair, that can happen too and it will all be okay.
Or, you know, even better.
With that in mind, here is today’s list:
Calling out girls by name
The Spotted Pig
Calling out girls by hair color
The brunette (at least, for today)
Also I’m supposed to write something about the TV thing. I guess, uh, it’s all true. Except, you know, the parts where I look a jerk - or worse, like a suburbanite.