But first! My most recent OkCupid message:
"Shalom. Is the flip phone a Jewish thing or are you just cool? Do you speak Ladino tambien? Would you like to go for a run or a hike?"
Nope!
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I had to delete Crazy Chinatown Man's number from my phone this week because, three months since I last saw him, I was still sending him drunk text messages. If I hadn't already proven to him what a disaster I was when I told him I didn't want an engagement ring and ran out of his apartment ON OUR FOURTH DATE, I sure proved it with random, unsolicited text messages- all sent after 12 am- over the next few months. I doubt he considered, when he went out with me a total of six times, that he would end up with a life-long drunk text buddy who lives in another state. I had liked him, but I couldn't hold him responsible for filling this void of oppressive loneliness I seem to be stuck in. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry," I wanted to apologize over and over, which would have only added to his likely perception of my insanity. The best course of action was to edit my contacts list. I removed, at the same time, Brooklyn Cinematographer, striking from my phone two of the men who I've felt anything more than apathy towards in the last few years. Done and done.
He peace'd out to Oregon but left me with the incredible gift of knowledge of what I believe to be the best bar in all of Seattle- The Dynasty Room in Chinatown. In what other bar in Seattle can you, on a Saturday night, get four people wasted for $100 and have the entire space to sing karaoke with your friends? The answer is NONE. Many thanks to Crazy Chinatown Man, (who incidentally is very, very White), for forever altering my preferred location for alcohol consumption in this city.
I may not have a relationship with a man, but I plan on having a long and loving relationship with that bar.
"Shalom. Is the flip phone a Jewish thing or are you just cool? Do you speak Ladino tambien? Would you like to go for a run or a hike?"
Nope!
***********************************************************************************
I had to delete Crazy Chinatown Man's number from my phone this week because, three months since I last saw him, I was still sending him drunk text messages. If I hadn't already proven to him what a disaster I was when I told him I didn't want an engagement ring and ran out of his apartment ON OUR FOURTH DATE, I sure proved it with random, unsolicited text messages- all sent after 12 am- over the next few months. I doubt he considered, when he went out with me a total of six times, that he would end up with a life-long drunk text buddy who lives in another state. I had liked him, but I couldn't hold him responsible for filling this void of oppressive loneliness I seem to be stuck in. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry," I wanted to apologize over and over, which would have only added to his likely perception of my insanity. The best course of action was to edit my contacts list. I removed, at the same time, Brooklyn Cinematographer, striking from my phone two of the men who I've felt anything more than apathy towards in the last few years. Done and done.
He peace'd out to Oregon but left me with the incredible gift of knowledge of what I believe to be the best bar in all of Seattle- The Dynasty Room in Chinatown. In what other bar in Seattle can you, on a Saturday night, get four people wasted for $100 and have the entire space to sing karaoke with your friends? The answer is NONE. Many thanks to Crazy Chinatown Man, (who incidentally is very, very White), for forever altering my preferred location for alcohol consumption in this city.
I may not have a relationship with a man, but I plan on having a long and loving relationship with that bar.
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