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.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Today’s the day

I’m glad I’m not dead. Oh wait: obscure swing-band lyric reference probably none of you got. Whoops.

No, actually, it’s the day of my long-delayed lunch with the Hapless Hesitator. In fact by the time many of you read this, it will doubtless have occurred. (Nearly live post-lunch blogging this afternoon, depending on demands at the office.)

To share or not to share?
Meanwhile, however, I am totally overcome by such dilemmas as whether or not to share the pumpkin pie I made over the weekend or just let him enjoy his bag-lunch unmodified. After all, the effects of Anna’s baking on single, Christian (and therefore probably sexually frustrated) males is indeterminate. We have early crushes who proved quite impervious to such retrosexual affections ... and then, well, blog-readers who have enjoyed said edibles as prize fare. Plus the peeps at a certain Burlesque Bar who enjoyed my full-dairy cinnamon rolls the night Jose no Dinero’s comedian friend launched his weekly laugh-in. Esther, he’s a very nice Jewish boy, by the way! Wink, wink.

Then there’s always the critical wardrobe question. Yesterday, as Best Friend can attest, I clearly dressed while far removed from the necessary doses of coffee. In fact, perhaps there was a caffeine extraction from my bloodstream before I got dressed (shudders). Let’s just say I found a way to morph into the frumpy wingwoman-from-hell guys never wanna talk to. Although if I’m truly sticking to the path of dating only Christians* perhaps this is the way to fend off heathen suitors. Not that I usually apply such precise or offensive labels to people in my life ... but somehow this morning the word “heathen” has such a deliciously archaic sound to it. Dude, my inner retrosexual must be off her meds this morning ...

But if you haven’t figured it out from this ramble yet, sadly there won’t be a proper blog today. Too much socializing so far this week. DO, however, partake of two highly entertaining pieces:
  1. Esther’s careful, um, octonography of the love-lives of octupi
  2. This tantalizing academic work on the vernacular use of “dude” (because, you know, there are so many formal uses the scholar has clearly left out ;)). Wow, he sounds like my kinda nerd! Too bad he teaches at Pitt ...
And now, must run. Already late, *sigh*. Perhaps no pumpkin pie for anyone.

*Laughs hysterically at prospect Christian men would ever ask me out.