Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

The fortune-cookie game

Those of you who, along with reader Frasier, correctly guessed part of the answer to last month’s contest may be amused by this detail from my dinner last night.

Excuses, excuses
Got a late start yesterday after an early morning creating last week’s invoice for the client. And then, by the time I’d baked a batch of bread and crafted another job application, it was somehow late afternoon/early evening. I know I crossed several things off of yesterday’s to-do list, but damned if I can remember them (besides Bible-reading, that is — and do most of you really care about that?!!).

Anyway, just about the time I would have been able to write yesterday’s promised blog entry, an old friend from Arizona college days arrived, two friends and suitcases in tow. I offered them bread and water, we had a brief gossip, and then headed off to ease their famished state with local Chinese food.

This meal of course concluded with that American Chinese ritual, the fortune cookie. Most of you know about the “game” one plays to spice up such fortunes, right? Now of course fortunes like “The best children are your own” don’t work so well when you add “... in bed” at the end. But last night we got lucky, so to speak (Anna slaps knee).
  • Friend from Arizona: Your dreams will come true
  • Friend of friend from Arizona: You like to play competitive games
  • Anna: Everyone agrees you are the best
... I guess the fortune-cookie writer must’ve seen me dance, eh? ;)

Today’s numeroscope
Oh, but before I forget, the fortune cookie also had some very useful predictive advice: apparently my Lucky Numbers (not to be confused with the Lucky Tacos one can acquire from a Chinese-Mexican place on Brooklyn’s Flatbush Avenue) are 5, 12, 19, 26, 33, 40. But do you notice a pattern there? I think the shrink — I mean psycho — I mean psychic! had something up his or her sleeve. Because all those numbers are evenly separated by 7. Oh yes. So clearly the luckiest Lucky Number of all is 7. And I was born in July!!! Woohoo!

I must keep that in mind when searching for jobs or something. Maybe I should only click on every seventh ad. That sounds like a reasonable way to live, yes?

Also reasonable might be cutting down on my caffeine intake (10+ hours of sleep last night and I need a full-caff, 16-oz. latte why?!). But that would take all the fun out of my morning ritual. Besides, where else will I get the energy to finally do justice to Old School and possibly slip in a story about Stalker #1?

Back soon...