My boss, Stanley Rothenberg, is easily one of the most generous, good hearted men I have ever met, let alone worked for. I could regale you with his achievements in the field of copyright, I could overwhelm you with the cases he's argued and won, I could describe to you his family, the hoardes of people who love him. I could drown you in his accolades. But you might not get how special he is that way.
Last year my firm moved across town. And in the few weeks before we left, my boss was in the hospital. So I helped him pack up his office, filing what needed to be filed, and pitching everything I could. I had a great time, since organizing people is what I'm really good at.
Going through the tons of paperwork in his office, I discovered everything he's held onto for the last ten years -- birth announcements for secretaries, memos of colleagues he was proud of, and miles upon miles of his own articles. And I packed it all up. And when we got to the new location, I unpacked and organized everything all over again. He wasn't young and he didn't have any specific filing systems. I wanted him to come into a clutter-free office that ran efficiently. And he did.
A few weeks later, he gave me a thank you note, with an American Express gift card inside it. "I couldn't have done this without you." I wasn't expecting anything, but when I saw the gift card, though it might be $50. It was considerably more. As a thank you, I told him that I would do it again for him any time, as long as we could skip the part where he went into the hospital.
Stanley bought Christmas presents for all the secretaries who sat near him, not just for me. He was always sharing interesting articles or jokes that made him laugh. Since I started working for him five years ago, he's seen more of my shows than my parents have. He has always been supportive of me and my dreams. He has always been respectful, generous, interested and most of all, friendly.
They are taking him off life support tomorrow, and I hope he finds his heaven full of copyright disputes for him to set right.
[author's note: I just found out that instead of "taking him off life support," the family decided not to pursue additional medication options. There is a subtle difference in that, which I think is important to note here.]
Thursday, November 2, 2006
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
cake terrorist + fashion police = completely out of line
Enjoy, the cake terrorist at work, today said something so completely inappropriate I almost got out of my seat and punched her. And what worries me is that this kind of insidious thinking is what's going on inside all the quiet, mousy people of the world.
We were talking about fashion. About how too many women like to cram themselves into clothes that don't fit, or clothes that show off a lot of skin. And philosophically, I'm all for it. Women should have the right to wear whatever they want, whenever they want, and should catch no flack for it, as we're all individuals in this great country of ours. If you think that falling out of your clothes is hot, then you should have the right to fall out of your clothes in as many spots as you want to. Secretly, though, I'd like there to be some sort of sensor on people's front doors so they can't get outside if they're wearing something that looks appalling. Who designs that sensor? Me, of course.
All of that aside, though, I was prepared for an argument on the right to wear whatever you want, balanced by the responsibility to be aesthetically pleasing to your surrounding viewers. I think that's an interesting argument, from both a social responsibility and/or a feminist perspective, and I can see both sides of it. But what I got instead was this:
Enjoy: The way these women dress is just shocking.
Enjoy's Neighbor: I know, I know.
Enjoy: You know, when women dress like that, they're just asking to be raped.
I'm not kidding. She actually said that. I picked my jaw up off the floor, wheeled around in my chair, checked the calendar to see if it was, in fact, 1950, and said (much louder than I'm sure I needed to), "I cannot believe you just said that!! No woman EVER asks to be raped! EVER!" She started to defend herself, but I cut her off, because to me, there is nothing you can say to defend that statement. The essence of rape is violation. Are these women asking to be violated? Absolutely not. (Are they asking to be fucked? Maybe... But I'm not getting into that.)
One of my co-workers, Francesca, is super-duper smart (she's a recent college grad and hasn't flushed all her brain cells down the toilet yet), so I had to run upstairs to tell her. I made the argument to her that women who dress, shall we say flashily, are asking to be looked at, but not violated. And she managed to come up with some good counterpoints even to the Looked At argument. (I like talking to her. I always come out feeling smarter than before, by way of getting dumber first)
So how many soft-spoken, apologetic, unimposing women (or people, for that matter) are walking around thinking thoughts that the rest of us thought had disappeared years ago? And how do we reach those people, to make it clear to them that rape victims are just that, victims. A woman doesn't bring it on herself or ask for it in any way. Where is Mariska Hargitay when you need her??
I'm opening a bigger can of worms than I know I can handle ("EEK! WORMS!") but I feel confident that no woman wakes up in the morning, puts on her clothes (be they flashy or no) and says to herself, "I'd really like to be violated today." And that it discounts the pain and suffering of the thousands of new rape victims every year to ever say that a woman asks for it by dressing the way she does.
I may have to punish her now by never eating her cake again.
We were talking about fashion. About how too many women like to cram themselves into clothes that don't fit, or clothes that show off a lot of skin. And philosophically, I'm all for it. Women should have the right to wear whatever they want, whenever they want, and should catch no flack for it, as we're all individuals in this great country of ours. If you think that falling out of your clothes is hot, then you should have the right to fall out of your clothes in as many spots as you want to. Secretly, though, I'd like there to be some sort of sensor on people's front doors so they can't get outside if they're wearing something that looks appalling. Who designs that sensor? Me, of course.
All of that aside, though, I was prepared for an argument on the right to wear whatever you want, balanced by the responsibility to be aesthetically pleasing to your surrounding viewers. I think that's an interesting argument, from both a social responsibility and/or a feminist perspective, and I can see both sides of it. But what I got instead was this:
Enjoy: The way these women dress is just shocking.
Enjoy's Neighbor: I know, I know.
Enjoy: You know, when women dress like that, they're just asking to be raped.
I'm not kidding. She actually said that. I picked my jaw up off the floor, wheeled around in my chair, checked the calendar to see if it was, in fact, 1950, and said (much louder than I'm sure I needed to), "I cannot believe you just said that!! No woman EVER asks to be raped! EVER!" She started to defend herself, but I cut her off, because to me, there is nothing you can say to defend that statement. The essence of rape is violation. Are these women asking to be violated? Absolutely not. (Are they asking to be fucked? Maybe... But I'm not getting into that.)
One of my co-workers, Francesca, is super-duper smart (she's a recent college grad and hasn't flushed all her brain cells down the toilet yet), so I had to run upstairs to tell her. I made the argument to her that women who dress, shall we say flashily, are asking to be looked at, but not violated. And she managed to come up with some good counterpoints even to the Looked At argument. (I like talking to her. I always come out feeling smarter than before, by way of getting dumber first)
So how many soft-spoken, apologetic, unimposing women (or people, for that matter) are walking around thinking thoughts that the rest of us thought had disappeared years ago? And how do we reach those people, to make it clear to them that rape victims are just that, victims. A woman doesn't bring it on herself or ask for it in any way. Where is Mariska Hargitay when you need her??
I'm opening a bigger can of worms than I know I can handle ("EEK! WORMS!") but I feel confident that no woman wakes up in the morning, puts on her clothes (be they flashy or no) and says to herself, "I'd really like to be violated today." And that it discounts the pain and suffering of the thousands of new rape victims every year to ever say that a woman asks for it by dressing the way she does.
I may have to punish her now by never eating her cake again.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
seen in my hood
For the sports buffs, this pumpkin is on my way to work. My boss is a huge Giants fan, so I had to creep into my neighbors' yard and take a picture of this for her with my phone:
And for those of you who love bizarre little things, I found this while crossing the street:
And for those of you who love bizarre little things, I found this while crossing the street:
Monday, October 30, 2006
end of an era?
Could the door slamming have ended... forever???
When I spoke with a very wise woman (with very reasonable rates) about the door slamming neighbors, she came up with a very simple idea: perhaps my neighbors were slamming the door (or not as careful with the door as they could be) not because they were evil people, but because I wasn't interested in being friends with them.
Backstory: When they first moved in, we had some interesting back and forth about how "you guys should come over for a glass of wine" and what not, but after hearing them scream so passionately at one another, I knew that no matter what, we weren't going to be close friends. I'm not a screamer. I'm just not comfortable with it. My family doesn't scream. We stew.
Anyway, I never really followed up on their offer of friendship, so why should they follow up on my requests to close the door quietly? It's a twisted logic, but it makes total sense to me.
So recently, I started leaving my old magazines on the corner of the handrail (is there a better word for that? If so, it's escaping me) with notes that said "want me? I'm yours!" And they started disappearing. So I left other ones -- Cosmo, Entertainment Weekly, Weekend Magazine -- all kind of crap magazines, unfortunately, but they were the small peace offering I had to make. And they kept going away. Awesome!
Then one day I got a note under my door. I got worried when I saw it, but one cursory glance revealed a smiley face, so I knew I was in safe territory. The wife of the pair was thanking me for my gestures, but telling me they didn't really want my garbage magazines. (hell, I didn't either!) But they appreciated the thought, and apologized for perhaps being a little over the top in the last letter.
So, as a coup de grace (or, appropriately a boo! de grace), last night I left halloween cupcakes out there.
It feels so much better this way.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
what makes a guy a keeper
I realize that I've been working on this in a sort of backwards fashion – meeting guys and then trying to figure out why I didn't like them – but at least I'm starting to make some headway in creating a list of criteria for What Makes a Guy a Keeper. (alternatively titled So Many Losers, So Little Time)
I met a guy this weekend at a party, and we really seemed to hit it off. He was attractive, intelligent, interested in me and flirty. But by the end of the evening, my feelings were hurt and I wanted to go home. Two main reasons: 1) in the course of the evening, he never once bought (or offered to buy) me a drink, and 2) he was making points and then refusing to hear what I had to say in response. (For example, he was emphatic that I acknowledge what a great a thing it is that my parents support me in my acting. And I do acknowledge that, trust me, I do. But what he refused to hear was that with that support comes a huge, self-imposed, internal pressure to be successful. And if he could have heard that, instead of insisting on his own point, he might have been blessed with the opportunity to kiss me. As such, he went home alone in the rain.) (and so did I.)
So I've narrowed it down into seven primary categories in which I think you should click with any prospective mate. And I don't think any one is any more important than the others, but that's probably because I've been on so many dates lately that have gone well, but which I wouldn't classify as a success simply for want of fulfillment in one (or, say, six) of the categories.
They are:
- Initial Attraction
- Sense of Humor
- Intellect
- Connection
- Sexual Energy
- Trust
- Consideration
Initial Attraction.
This one is easy. You can't examine it or dissect it. You either are initially attracted to someone or you're not. This really comes into play if you're dating online – you can dig someone's email and phone styles, and then meet them and find that you're just not attracted to him. Sucks, but it's true.
Sense of Humor
I'm huge on laughing, so this is particularly important for me. It's like winning the lottery if I can find a guy who cracks me up. But I have a very specific sense of humor, so it's important that whoever I'm with also find me entertaining. Nothing sucks quite as much as laughing alone. (Well, laughing alone when there are other people around. Laughing alone at home rocks! I'm doing it right now!)
Intellect
For me, this isn't about book smarts (although they're pretty sexy). This is the general ability to talk about issues of interest with some air of authority. Periodically referencing something specific, like a book or a movie or an article, can serve as a means for connecting ("and I read in this book…." "Oh my god I love that book (and now I love you, too!)") If you're smart, you've probably done interesting things. I'd like to know about those things, and perhaps do some of them, too.
Connection
Hmmm. "Connection" is a little wishy-washy. But for me it's huge. It's that feeling that you get after talking to someone for three hours that he might be someone you actually know a little better than you did when you started. This is where someone starts to feel familiar. It's friendship, really. Is this guy someone who is open to being friends with me, to sharing things with me? This also tends to be the area that houses passion – not sexual passion, but passion for the things in your life that are important to you. I like this one. It makes me feel really great when it's there, and when it's not… well, eh. More fish in the sea.
Sexual Energy
If you read the previous post, you know how big a deal this is. It's common knowledge that most guys like to make out. But that doesn't mean they want to make out with you. It's important that the right signals land on the right receptors. I don't want to have to wonder if you want me, but by the same token, I don't want to spend the whole night talking about my boobs. (I mean, they are worthy of an evening of discussion, but you can go ahead and do it without me. Really, I won't mind.) And this is a really fun area to navigate and negotiate. I mean, come on, who doesn't like a first kiss?
Trust
I do a monologue that comes from Athol Fugard's play The Road to Mecca, and in it, the character says, "You know what the really big word is, Helen? I had it all wrong. Like most people, I used to think it was love. That's a big word all right, and quite an event when it comes along. But there's an even bigger one. Trust. And more dangerous. Because that's when you drop your defenses, lay yourself wide open and if you've made a mistake, you're in big, big trouble. And it hurts like hell." Trust is something you can develop (or repair, if you have to), but if I don't trust someone, I have to run away. I have more than my fair share of self-doubt, so I don't need it from the guy in my life. And if these categories are the criteria for starting a relationship, there's no reason for me to invest in someone I don't trust.
Consideration
This has been the watchword for Thea lately, and I've jumped on her bandwagon. It's about how much a guy pays attention to you, and is interested in making you happy. It seems simple, especially if this is a guy who wants to date you or take you home for the night, but in my experience (e.g., above), guys miss this boat more often than they should. It's not about spending money, but about showing a woman you value her. Sure, it often involves money, and I'm not advocating buying her a fur coat on the first date, but if you're getting a drink, check with her to see if she might like one, too. If you say you're going to call at six, try to get around to it before 6:30 or so.
I'd like to think that by narrowing down my criteria into a handful of succinct paragraphs, I will instantaneously find myself with someone who meets all seven. Ok, ok, sure it's unlikely, but the beauty of knowing more specifically what I'm looking for is that I don't have to waste my time anymore with someone defensive (#6), oblivious (#7) or gay (#5).
p.s. these are the criteria I'm using to find out if I want to date someone. Being someone's girlfriend has a few more criteria. But let me get some good solid dates under my belt before we put the cart before the horse!
the upside of trollapalooza 2006
It looks like I'm going to be on the Dr. Keith Abelow show on Fox. I don't know when yet, but it's in the not-too-distant future, so get ready to set your tivos...
So, I met Richard at Trollapalooza 2006 (read the link for full backstory) and after the cameras had all been turned off, I offered to show him around the city on Thursday night. And we had one of the best times I've had in a while! I took him to Grand Central and Top of the Rock (which I HIGHLY recommend for everyone, especially New Yorkers) and to a very bad Tupperware-inspired art exhibit at the AOL/Time Warner Center (which I highly recommend for anyone who wants to be bored or let down). We had dinner and dessert and one of the most enjoyable conversations I've had in a while.
We really connected. But over calamari and cobb salad Richard revealed to me the real reason he was being flown up to meet Sarah, the 29 year-old virgin from Jane Magazine -- he, too, was a 29 year old virgin (just from Texas, not Jane Magazine). Hmmm. Now, at first glance, you'd never guess it. He's adorable, not at all awkward or geeky (and nothing like Staring Joseph). But over the course of the evening, it began to make sense to me. I felt really comfortable with him (like he was my friend's little brother or something) and, as such, we shared a lot of pretty emotional stuff. But there was no sexual energy between us. And, while I tend to bring more than my fair share of sexual energy to a conversation, it seemed to dissipate in the space between us. I can't fully explain it, but after a while, I stopped putting it out there. At one point in the evening, we went to his hotel room to pee, and it was really the first time I've been in a guy's hotel room without there being a chance of something happening. Sure, I could have stepped up and made something happen, but having received no sexual signals from him over dinner, I figured it would either be rebuffed, or would be an evening of Kate's In Charge. (And while I don't mind a good evening of Kate's In Charge, I'm trying to only go in for balanced affairs these days. They're cleaner.)
Richard said that he was frustrated by women's expectation that a guy make the first move. He said that it puts a lot of pressure on the guy. But I argued that women respect a guy who's willing to go out on a limb a little, and take that risk. [Maybe this is the rationale behind guys hissing at me on the sidewalk -- they're just taking a really big risk, so I'll probably really respond...] Sexual chemistry is something that's really hard to dissect and examine. Really, you either have it or you don't. And it wouldn't surprise me if he has it, but just doesn't trust it or know what to do with it. But it's kind of fascinating to be the one on the other end of that energy. To watch how it ended up affecting me.
I feel like I made a really good friend that night, but one who was (for whatever reasons) not at all interested in sleeping with me. (I'm going to guess that's not actually the case, but that's how it came across.) And after all these dates I've gone on with complete strangers, where there was no connection at all -- neither emotional nor chemical -- it was at least nice to remember what it's like to get past someone's outer layer.
SIDEBAR: Richard said the show makes him look awful. I would just like to say for the record that he's not awful. He's a great guy, and I think that ditching that virginity (ha! easy for me to say) will help him out immensely with women. Also, there's a chance he'll be reading this, so please be thoughtful in your comments.
So, I met Richard at Trollapalooza 2006 (read the link for full backstory) and after the cameras had all been turned off, I offered to show him around the city on Thursday night. And we had one of the best times I've had in a while! I took him to Grand Central and Top of the Rock (which I HIGHLY recommend for everyone, especially New Yorkers) and to a very bad Tupperware-inspired art exhibit at the AOL/Time Warner Center (which I highly recommend for anyone who wants to be bored or let down). We had dinner and dessert and one of the most enjoyable conversations I've had in a while.
We really connected. But over calamari and cobb salad Richard revealed to me the real reason he was being flown up to meet Sarah, the 29 year-old virgin from Jane Magazine -- he, too, was a 29 year old virgin (just from Texas, not Jane Magazine). Hmmm. Now, at first glance, you'd never guess it. He's adorable, not at all awkward or geeky (and nothing like Staring Joseph). But over the course of the evening, it began to make sense to me. I felt really comfortable with him (like he was my friend's little brother or something) and, as such, we shared a lot of pretty emotional stuff. But there was no sexual energy between us. And, while I tend to bring more than my fair share of sexual energy to a conversation, it seemed to dissipate in the space between us. I can't fully explain it, but after a while, I stopped putting it out there. At one point in the evening, we went to his hotel room to pee, and it was really the first time I've been in a guy's hotel room without there being a chance of something happening. Sure, I could have stepped up and made something happen, but having received no sexual signals from him over dinner, I figured it would either be rebuffed, or would be an evening of Kate's In Charge. (And while I don't mind a good evening of Kate's In Charge, I'm trying to only go in for balanced affairs these days. They're cleaner.)
Richard said that he was frustrated by women's expectation that a guy make the first move. He said that it puts a lot of pressure on the guy. But I argued that women respect a guy who's willing to go out on a limb a little, and take that risk. [Maybe this is the rationale behind guys hissing at me on the sidewalk -- they're just taking a really big risk, so I'll probably really respond...] Sexual chemistry is something that's really hard to dissect and examine. Really, you either have it or you don't. And it wouldn't surprise me if he has it, but just doesn't trust it or know what to do with it. But it's kind of fascinating to be the one on the other end of that energy. To watch how it ended up affecting me.
I feel like I made a really good friend that night, but one who was (for whatever reasons) not at all interested in sleeping with me. (I'm going to guess that's not actually the case, but that's how it came across.) And after all these dates I've gone on with complete strangers, where there was no connection at all -- neither emotional nor chemical -- it was at least nice to remember what it's like to get past someone's outer layer.
SIDEBAR: Richard said the show makes him look awful. I would just like to say for the record that he's not awful. He's a great guy, and I think that ditching that virginity (ha! easy for me to say) will help him out immensely with women. Also, there's a chance he'll be reading this, so please be thoughtful in your comments.
Friday, October 27, 2006
adventures in murray hill
I truly don't know where to start, other than not to start at all.
As those of you who are subscribers know, Thea and I have been on a mission to get ourselves out there. Meet people. Make connections. Date. See what our options are.
And let me tell you, last night, we found out what they aren't.
We went to a Meet Up event last night for New York City Singles. If you're not familiar with meet up (www.meetup.com), it's a great idea. It's a website that lets you search for groups in your area with different interests -- card playing, small dog owning, knitting, you name it, they've got a group for it. So we thought that maybe meeting single guys that way would be a good idea. They wouldn't be actors. They wouldn't be open-bar-hugging alcoholics.
They would, however, be painfully average.
We got to the event (for which we paid $10, and for which there were NO DRINK SPECIALS), and we were handed a lock. The gentlemen (I use that word loosely) were handed keys. If you found the right key for your lock, you won an extra raffle ticket. Good idea in theory, right?
"Hey, you're cute, I'm shy, let me make some lame joke about how I'm only in this for the cash and prizes..." But no.
Oh no.
Instead, Thea and I crouched by the calamari, surveying the room. It was junior high all over again. The boys were all on one side of the room, and the girls all on the other. There was no crossover. Until, that is, we were approahced by Laughs Too Loud Guy, who was charming, but wildly uninteresting. He was replaced later by Staring Joseph. I'd like to do an impression for you of Staring Joseph. Come over here and stand within two feet of me. Now don't say anything. Don't even really look at me or Thea. Answer, "yes, I come to these things all the time" when we ask. Oh, and wear a big cross around your neck. That's a big turn on in a bar. Are you still staring? Good. Because that's all Staring Joseph was good at. Even across the room, after we walked away.
Who did we meet on the other side of the room? The Drunken Blonde and Nasty PR Guy. The DB, apparently, had been RECRUITED from the regular part of the bar (where she had already been overserved), to join in the fun in the too-well-lit back room. And Nasty PR Guy, while arguably the best-dressed man in the room, chatted to Thea (not with her) about how he puts his toilet seat down even though he lives alone. Best part? When he went to the bar to get a drink, he asked Thea what she wanted. When he came back, he brought her nothing. "Oh, I forgot what you said you were drinking..."
So Thea left the Scary Ass Back Room Where All The Weirdos Were, and got herself a drink from the waitress in the main part of the bar. That's where she met a weirdo they didn't let into the party.
HIM: I noticed your blondeness from the other side of the curtain.
THEA: Really? Hmmmm. (pause) I have to go back to my friend now.
HIM: The one in the striped shirt?"
THEA: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
After that, I declared that, no holds barred, I was marrying the man whose key fit in my lock.
But the worst part of Trollapalooza 2006 was that there was a camera crew from Fox Television there. Yeah, we were not only at the Loser Party (and I say that with as much affection as I can muster, but you had to be there) but there is now documentary footage proving we were there.
Why? Well, Jane Magazine is hosting a blog from a 29 year old virgin, Sarah, and the objective of it (as I gather) is for her to meet men that the readers of Jane have pre-screened and pre-approved. Week 9's winner, Richard, was flown to New York by the Dr. Keith Ablow Show (on Fox) either to dish on the experience, or to meet her on TV or something. I didn't exactly get the specifics. However, as a pre-filming detour, they sent Richard to Trollapalooza 2006 to meet the rest of us. The 29 year old non-virgins.
I foolishly signed a release, so they got me on camera spouting out my drunken theories on dating, and now they are entitled to whatever footage they've shot of me, despite my constant reiteration of "please don't use this footage. Oh god, please!" I thought about flashing them so they woudn't use the footage, or swearing a lot so they'd have to edit it so much it would be unusuble, but then I remembered that it's Fox, and a talk show, so that would only guarantee I'd be on TV. And I'd look like a complete idiot on top of that.
When they finally turned the cameras off, Richard was a nice guy, (as were the guys on the crew) but he was completely out of his depth in New York -- he'd only been here 6 hours. He argued that he doesn't know how to date, citing an 8 year relationship in his past (even though he's been out of his that relationship for five years now), and that he's not sure why they picked him. I told him that he was charming and attractive and that he shouldn't be shy to approach a woman in a bar. Although in a New York bar... I can see why he might be intimidated.
Let's not forget, though, he was at Trollapalooza 2006.
WHAT A COMPLETE AND UTTER DISASTER!
Thea and I left the bar screaming, and didn't stop for about six blocks. We had seriously hit a new low. And because the whole event felt like junior high, we judged it as such. I'm not sure there were any grown ups in that room. The only good thing to come from the night is that we know we're not in that league, the League of People Who Can't Meet People Any Other Way. Hell, not only are we not in that league, we're not even playing the same sport. And while it was reaffirming, it was also really sad. But it was such a complete waste of time and energy that I can't even focus on the sad part without wanting to run six blocks, screaming at the top of my lungs.
As a sidebar, I'm showing Richard the town tonight. Got to get him ready for the virgin!
Oh, and are you still staring? Because I'm pretty sure Staring Joseph still is.
As those of you who are subscribers know, Thea and I have been on a mission to get ourselves out there. Meet people. Make connections. Date. See what our options are.
And let me tell you, last night, we found out what they aren't.
We went to a Meet Up event last night for New York City Singles. If you're not familiar with meet up (www.meetup.com), it's a great idea. It's a website that lets you search for groups in your area with different interests -- card playing, small dog owning, knitting, you name it, they've got a group for it. So we thought that maybe meeting single guys that way would be a good idea. They wouldn't be actors. They wouldn't be open-bar-hugging alcoholics.
They would, however, be painfully average.
We got to the event (for which we paid $10, and for which there were NO DRINK SPECIALS), and we were handed a lock. The gentlemen (I use that word loosely) were handed keys. If you found the right key for your lock, you won an extra raffle ticket. Good idea in theory, right?
"Hey, you're cute, I'm shy, let me make some lame joke about how I'm only in this for the cash and prizes..." But no.
Oh no.
Instead, Thea and I crouched by the calamari, surveying the room. It was junior high all over again. The boys were all on one side of the room, and the girls all on the other. There was no crossover. Until, that is, we were approahced by Laughs Too Loud Guy, who was charming, but wildly uninteresting. He was replaced later by Staring Joseph. I'd like to do an impression for you of Staring Joseph. Come over here and stand within two feet of me. Now don't say anything. Don't even really look at me or Thea. Answer, "yes, I come to these things all the time" when we ask. Oh, and wear a big cross around your neck. That's a big turn on in a bar. Are you still staring? Good. Because that's all Staring Joseph was good at. Even across the room, after we walked away.
Who did we meet on the other side of the room? The Drunken Blonde and Nasty PR Guy. The DB, apparently, had been RECRUITED from the regular part of the bar (where she had already been overserved), to join in the fun in the too-well-lit back room. And Nasty PR Guy, while arguably the best-dressed man in the room, chatted to Thea (not with her) about how he puts his toilet seat down even though he lives alone. Best part? When he went to the bar to get a drink, he asked Thea what she wanted. When he came back, he brought her nothing. "Oh, I forgot what you said you were drinking..."
So Thea left the Scary Ass Back Room Where All The Weirdos Were, and got herself a drink from the waitress in the main part of the bar. That's where she met a weirdo they didn't let into the party.
HIM: I noticed your blondeness from the other side of the curtain.
THEA: Really? Hmmmm. (pause) I have to go back to my friend now.
HIM: The one in the striped shirt?"
THEA: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
After that, I declared that, no holds barred, I was marrying the man whose key fit in my lock.
But the worst part of Trollapalooza 2006 was that there was a camera crew from Fox Television there. Yeah, we were not only at the Loser Party (and I say that with as much affection as I can muster, but you had to be there) but there is now documentary footage proving we were there.
Why? Well, Jane Magazine is hosting a blog from a 29 year old virgin, Sarah, and the objective of it (as I gather) is for her to meet men that the readers of Jane have pre-screened and pre-approved. Week 9's winner, Richard, was flown to New York by the Dr. Keith Ablow Show (on Fox) either to dish on the experience, or to meet her on TV or something. I didn't exactly get the specifics. However, as a pre-filming detour, they sent Richard to Trollapalooza 2006 to meet the rest of us. The 29 year old non-virgins.
I foolishly signed a release, so they got me on camera spouting out my drunken theories on dating, and now they are entitled to whatever footage they've shot of me, despite my constant reiteration of "please don't use this footage. Oh god, please!" I thought about flashing them so they woudn't use the footage, or swearing a lot so they'd have to edit it so much it would be unusuble, but then I remembered that it's Fox, and a talk show, so that would only guarantee I'd be on TV. And I'd look like a complete idiot on top of that.
When they finally turned the cameras off, Richard was a nice guy, (as were the guys on the crew) but he was completely out of his depth in New York -- he'd only been here 6 hours. He argued that he doesn't know how to date, citing an 8 year relationship in his past (even though he's been out of his that relationship for five years now), and that he's not sure why they picked him. I told him that he was charming and attractive and that he shouldn't be shy to approach a woman in a bar. Although in a New York bar... I can see why he might be intimidated.
Let's not forget, though, he was at Trollapalooza 2006.
WHAT A COMPLETE AND UTTER DISASTER!
Thea and I left the bar screaming, and didn't stop for about six blocks. We had seriously hit a new low. And because the whole event felt like junior high, we judged it as such. I'm not sure there were any grown ups in that room. The only good thing to come from the night is that we know we're not in that league, the League of People Who Can't Meet People Any Other Way. Hell, not only are we not in that league, we're not even playing the same sport. And while it was reaffirming, it was also really sad. But it was such a complete waste of time and energy that I can't even focus on the sad part without wanting to run six blocks, screaming at the top of my lungs.
As a sidebar, I'm showing Richard the town tonight. Got to get him ready for the virgin!
Oh, and are you still staring? Because I'm pretty sure Staring Joseph still is.
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