packed my pockets with my handspring platinum and "things fall apart" and headed for wonderbar—if jami can read books in bars and everyone falls in love with her, so can i, right? wrong. because jami is smart enough to not work with, sleep with, IM with, or have brunch with every-freaking-body in the bar when i walk in. there's maurice and paul having their nightcaps, and maurice and i are looking at the same cute guy that i followed into a store a few weeks ago. then a boy that i went on a few dates with walks in. i'm a good ex (also he's looking really cute tonight), so i buy him a corona and we get to chatting. he tells me about the two guys he was dating for a while, and how he liked both of them but it was too much work to go on dates with both of them, so he broke up with both. this may sound odd to you if you're not a new yorker, but it happens all the time. then a girl that i worked with two years ago rolls up and we do the niceties: how are you, what's new, you look great, glad you're enjoying new job/unemployment, then a guy that i hung out with platonically once shows up after a busted visit to beige at bowery bar. everyone should know that that night sucks there, that it's all full of eurotrash assholes or, and trust me on this one, a trick that you don't care to run into. one of them will always be there.
posted June 26, 2001 in delivery, sex.