adventures in the financial district!

That's right, kids, Adventures Season is in full swing!

(Our fearless duo's last adventure (in March) can be rediscovered here.)

Last night, the Adventure Team (or the A-Team, for those of you who feel that what we are doing is making the world safe for dating) (which it's not, by the way) was blessed by a special guest appearance from a woman we are hoping will want to permanently join the A-Team (making us more like Charlie's Angels than Mr. T).

In honor of Flag Day, Keri stepped up last night and accompanied Thea and me all the way downtown, "to meet guys in suits." That was the mission. Well, that, and to adequately celebrate Flag Day. When we first started making plans, I asked Keri if she was going to be draped in her flag for the occasion. She said, no, "I was planning on wearing my flag bikini...my rebel flag bikini. I know you're jealous." I told her just how jealous I was, and she came up with an alternative:

"Why don't you wear red, I will wear blue and Thea can dress in white stars? I think that will really draw the men to us like bees to honey. Nothing says "I am hot and available...and appreciate obscure holidays such as Flag Day" like dressing up in Red, White and Blue."

I knew then that she would make the adventure even better.

And as a bonus, according to something Thea read about how dating is like bird-breeding, three or four women (a "flock") are much more approachable than two solos ("lovebirds") or a group of five or more (a "gaggle"). [Ok, I made some of those labels up. Let's pretend that none of the A-Team ever reads anything about dating, ok? I think that would be better for all involved.]

Anyway... the three of us trekked downtown to the entirely pedestrian cobblestone alley near the Goldman Sachs building (at 85 Broad Street). (It has a name, but I can't remember it.) We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, and were prepared for anything. Except maybe for what we got.

Now, ok, when your objective is to meet guys in suits, and you go downtown, you've already met your goal just by getting off the subway at Wall Street. So maybe we should have been a little more specific in our objective, saying instead that we wanted to meet non-judgmental, non-skanky, non-sleezy guys in suits who are actually going to give us the time of day without our having to fling ourselves onto them like bugs into a spiderweb. That might have produced better results.

In the past year of adventures, though, I've learned a lot about expectations and "results." You'll remember how Thea and I had gone out repeatedly with the express purpose of meeting guys, and then feeling like we weren't cute enough or trendy enough or [insert your own insecurity here] enough to get the attention of the guys around us. So this time, I went in with a completely different tactic: I was just going to enjoy two of my friends getting to know each other. I was going to stay in the moment and not wander off in my imagination about what the cute guy in the purple shirt halfway across the room would make me for breakfast on our honeymoon in Antigua. And most of all, I was just going to have fun with these two outrageous women.

And you know what? It totally worked. I had an EXCELLENT time, despite the fact that all the guys there sucked. It's sad but true. We were drowning in a sea of six-guys-to-every-gal, most of whom were my type (i.e., suity) and NOT ONE struck me as attractive. It was kind of creepy. But it didn't matter. I had my girls. I was laughing my ass off about how Keri was voted "best hair" in junior high and Thea was voted "most optimistic." (I think I was voted "smartest but loneliest"... sigh.) Truly, I didn't even notice the guys around us -- except for Tighty McShirttington, who had clearly put on some weight since he bought that outfit in college... last year, and Nosey McIpod, who wanted to know what song I was playing for the girls that was making them give me looks of delight mixed with sheer confusion. (It was Space Taxi. Follow the link and you'll probably make the same face.)

And the guys didn't suck for not talking to us. They sucked because (and again, I didn't really pick up on this as much as Thea and Keri did) they were undressing us in their heads before smiling. They were less interested in meeting people and more interested in parading around like peacocks. They were just kind of gross. And one guy (truly the suckiest) actually BENT OVER so he could check out Thea's ass. Then he said to her, in a heretofore irresistible Australian accent (which he may have ruined last night for the entire country going forward) "You've really worn out those jeans" (or something equally appalling), to which Coolheaded Thea responded, "That is a completely inappropriate thing to say to me!" (Lucky for me, it happened to Thea, because, knowing my great skill at speaking when upset, I probably would have just shouted back "I'm not married!")

After a couple of drinks (and far too many naked-in-their-heads encounters), we had had enough, and went to get some food. But instead of subjecting ourselves to further Wall Street Bleck, we went back to the East Village and ate Thai food and told each other stories. Excellent stories.

And I fell a little bit deeper in love with life.

I really didn't want the night to end, so when I got home, I fell asleep in my clothes, just as a tribute. Of course it was intentional. Why would you even ask that?