I’m lucky to have nice friends who are supportive of my blogging obsession. So supportive, I think my sickness is rubbing off on them.
Olya is a Russian-born, NYC-dwelling smart, sassy, sexy, funny, honest, and FUN girl I connected with through mutual friends. We’re gonna party hardy together in Miami next week – more on that later. She felt inspired last night, and cooked up an awesome piece on being a single girl (with a slight SATC obsession) in NYC. Meet Olya, in her own words.
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My best friend gave me the complete Sex and the City series for my 27th birthday and I just can’t stop watching it. It’s addictive.
I moved to New York City in 2006, and though the move was for no particular reason other than a change of scenery and my love for New York, I can’t help but think that the show may have played a part. Of course I realize that it’s just a show and that it’s not real, but still… it is so authentic and inspirational – I think every woman who watches it secretly wants a similar life. The romances, the fashion, the infectious, free spirited honesty of the four women… but yeah, mostly the love life.
It seems like around every corner, the Sex and the City ladies found someone more than ‘decent’ to date. At least for me, the question is obvious: “Where are these men??”
I live in Midtown – it’s a great location. I am well employed, even if kind of broke, but who isn’t these days (in NYC, especially)? I am not unfortunate looking [Juliana interjects: she’s HOT] and have a solid social life. I go out a few times a week and while I get checked out and asked out by “presentable” men, they never turn out to be as they initially portray themselves.
My latest frustrations in the dating department come from two different (yet so similar) jackasses with a love for texting. The first one – we’ll call him Jackass #1 – I met at a friend’s birthday party. We chatted only for a few minutes, but the mutual physical attraction was clear. We exchanged numbers, but as we know –
men no longer call; they text.
He texted a few days later. We had conflicting schedules that week so we just… kept texting. I was running out of patience so I asked if we could meet up for a drink. His response?
No, sorry, I have work until 9pm tomorrow, so I am going to be tired and will just go home to blaze.
SERIOUSLY?? Why the fuck are you texting me, then?
Oh you poor workaholic. I tried to be nice.
How can any normal man respond that way? A few days later he texted again, just to ask how I was doing. A gazillion texts later, there was still no prospect of an actual invitation to meet. I finally stopped responding.
As a woman (and a Piscean) I had to analyze what happened:
Why did he keep on texting me?
Did he just need someone to text to?
Did he want me to bring up going out again?
Did he want me to invite myself to go over his place to “blaze”?
I don’t have the answers. I do know that a man with no balls to ask a lady out is like a man WITH NO BALLS.
Jackass #2 I met on my 27th birthday celebration. He was cute and a bit shy, which I really liked. Again; not much conversation before exchanging numbers and going our separate ways. He texted the following day (I don’t remember the last time a man called rather than texted).
Hey Olya, happy birthday again, what are you doing tonight?
I didn’t want to play any games and had no qualms with seeming “available.” Nothing much planned, just taking it easy.
Nice, me too. Hit me up later.
Umm. WHAT? I will hit you upside the head right about now. NO BALLS.
I decided to ignore the absurdity, but he was back for more the next day.
Hey, we are watching TV at home if you want to stop by. We might also go to the movies later.
OK, really? Who the fuck are “we” and why would I go over your place when I met you for five minutes? I was confused and wondered if he was gay, living with a partner and maybe looking to experiment with a woman – it’s possible my Sex in the City overload is to blame, but it honestly wouldn’t shock me. I was livid and couldn’t let it go for a few hours. I thought about actually calling to let him know that his horrid manners are in need of some polishing.
If both jackasses just wanted to sleep with me, it’s fine – at least take me out for a drink! Alas, men are lazy and have no understanding of chivalry; telephone conversations and getting-to-know-you walks in the park are no more. It’s all been reduced to texting and fucking. To be fair, men aren’t solely to blame – but that is a whole ‘nother topic.
Today I find myself sitting at the computer after work with two open tabs: jdate.com and okcupid.com, while contemplating signing up for Millionaire Matchmaker. Yes, it’s true, I feel just as pathetic as you are judging me to be. But what can I do? The world lives online and if I can’t find a decent man in person, perhaps I can find him on the web.
This isn’t about me being cynical; I still believe that there are great men out there. Nor is it about me being 27 and having a “running out of time” dilemma. I am actually not in the freak out zone (yet) to get married and pop out babies, even though I sometimes contemplate calling losers from my past (the ones who made me throw up a little in my mouth) just so I may go on a proper “date.” But I haven’t and won’t. A little vomiting may be a quick way to lose a few pounds, but I’d rather not mess with my sanity.
So I am giving online dating a shot and still searching – not for a Mr. Right – but at least for a Mr. Right Now. WITH BALLS.