Tag: dating

SNL cast hangs with hot chicks

Ok, so the story of the date with Reese has to go on hold for a second.  I need to get something terrible off my chest:

I have Saturday Night Live cast friend envy.  I want want want to be pals with the cast of SNL.

I think it started with the new open they came out with maybe a few years ago… obviously shot on a canon 5d (but maybe not)… with the little vignettes of each cast member out on the town in NY at night.  If you haven’t really watched it, it’s basically got each cast member in a situation that might happen to someone hanging out in NY on a Friday night.  Like that one chick outside of Arlene’s Grocery, or what’s-his-name getting drunk with some Japanese businessmen, or another guy on the strip in Coney Island.  Rooftop BBQ’s, cruisin the Bowery with some hip friends.  You know, just bein’ New Yorkers and sech.  I love that I can’t for the life of me remember their names right now.  Considering last night’s date conversation.  And Thursday’s date conversation.  Lots o’ namedroppin’.

Or maybe it started when a coworker/friend of mine was complaining that his ex girlfriend slash roommate slash future girlfriend was getting the runaround from this dude who happened to be on SNL.  “Oh, really?” I asked.

“Yeah, he keeps texting her when he wants to hook up, but he clearly doesn’t even really remember who she is.  He just sends super generic texts, like all exclamation points or random ‘funny’ words.”

“Hmm,” I says… “Soo… your ex is hooking up with a Saturday Night Live cast member?”  I’m kind of in disbelief, but his tone had been so matter-of-fact and his focus had been so ..focused on the lameness of the texts that I was sort of swept up into playing along.  Like, “Oh yeah, tell me about it, those SNL dudes are ALWAYS sending lame texts to girls I know.”

Anyway, his next point was that this was Fred Armisen.  “Who isn’t even funny at all.”  Not funny.  And I could totally see where he was coming from, I mean he was definitely still burning a flame for this girl, and she pretty much had zero chance with this Fred guy, and a lot of times SNL skits just fall short.  So yeah maybe he isn’t funny.  Which obviously makes it so much worse.  (huh?).  This was around the beginning of the rise of the Kristen Wiig. THE Kristen Wiig (I’m incidentally appalled that being in love with her from afar is actually a cliche now! COME ON!).  Anyhoozle, I go, “Yeah, he’s like the least funny,” and resolve to watch that weekend and judge for myself.

Cut to me on my couch laughing uncontrollably, covered in spilled popcorn and booze, reddened face, open fist pounding the coffee table.  Fred Armisen was hilarious that night.  Also, I am definitely exaggerating, but he was pretty funny, and definitely clever and good at “being funny.”  Oh well.  So that’s when I started thinking about them as real people I might someday get tangled up with socially.  Because really, this girl has ZERO NY clout.  I think she met him bartending.  In Times Square. See?  He’s totally not that cool.  Tooootally.

The partying with peeps show opener only rubs it in.

So the whole fucking point of this big rambling mess is this: I went on two dates last week.  Both of the girls spent a large portion of the night talking about their good friends who are SNL cast members (one girl was Reese, the other was let’s call her Sweden).  And really, “when you get to know them they are just regular people like you and me.  Not at all intimidating, but really great guys.”  Really great guys.  Yes.  The dudes.  They very definitely didn’t happen to mention how cool and sweet and talented the ladies are.

Also, yes Fred Armisen was mentioned by both! AAAAAhahahaha! I mean, why the hell not?  I think the real jealousy I have is of the life of a young hip attractive SNL cast member.  Basically minor NY royalty, but cool too.  As in, you get a free pass to act fucking nuts, then switch gears and be “real,” and then maybe eat sushi off some 25 year old grad student’s ass because it might be hilarious you never know.  Right, guys? Wouldn’t that be fucking amazing? hahaha

But it actually would be, yeah.

Writin’ About This Love Thing

Maybe.

A couple nights ago I went on a date (ish) with a girl who writes a relationship blog.  That makes two girls with relationship blogs I’ve had dates with (that I know of).  Both are fairly disaster-oriented.  Both are blonde (!).  Both blogs have gotten quite a (relatively) large amount of attention (more than mine, of course).  And both dates got interrupted at a key point, ruining everything forever.

I’ve read their blogs.  I’m not sure if I should link to them…  wait, who am I kidding?  The first girl was a lovely, very sexy early side of mid-twenties with family ties to Manhattan and a nice cynical wit.  Her blog is called datemeintheface, which she shares with a friend.  They open it up to reader submissions and encourage people (like me, during our date) to send in dating horror stories which they’ll publish/post if they’re sufficiently good.  Let’s call her Face.  Face was my first back-in-the-saddle moment (discounting summer fling girl, please) after special lady friend left me for points north.  I say back in the saddle and you think we fucked.  Nope.  Not her.  That honor goes to… oh man am I a slut… it goes to a married girl who wanted to even the score on her cheating husband.  But that’s another story for another post.  Face was the first girl that I got up the balls to approach at a bar and ask for her number.  A seriously big deal for me as that’s definitely NOT my typical MO.  (like that link? good).

Over the course of my life, the vast majority of my hookups, romances, one night stands, long term stable rewarding relationships that should have ended in marriage and kids, dancefloor make-out sessions and bathroom blowjobs have been initiated by the girl.  I used to call my “style” the zen hookup.  Yeah I know that’s ridiculously cheesey, but we’re talking about freshman-sophomore college years.  Which is also before the intensely disgusting advent of the intensely disgusting line of books and seminars on how to trick girls into fucking you.  But it’s not totally wrong.  I basically just wait until the girl I’m interested in gets tired of waiting for me to make a move and does it herself.  Less work and anguish for me, and I’m not proud of that.  It also has meant that I end up dating a certain personality type, which isn’t actually all that bad as I’m discovering.  But at the time I was like, “HIE, get over there and get that girl with the incredible body’s number!  The only way to get a girl who isn’t a little batshit is to get one that waits for the fella to make the move!”

So that happened.  I must say I was about as smooth as month-old sour milk.  But I got her number, we had a date, we made out in a “speakeasy” and were asked to stop.  ASKED TO STOP.  Which was the bucket of ice water on that little fling.  I saw her again randomly at a boutique hotel bar, but she ran when I called out to her.  Probably because I mispronounced her name.  I am terrible with names.  I live the guilt to this day.

The second girl, let’s call her Reese because she looks like the Witherspoon, writes a blog called Moths to a Flame.  She’s the flame, guys are moths (to be fair, she calls herself a bugzapper).  I think the metaphor is meant to imply a destructive end caused by some flaw in her own personality, as in she burns the moths (dudes) when they get too close and ruins future chances of happiness.  But really it just sounds egotistical.  Which I personally am fine with.  It’s good to be honest about shit like that.  This girl is hot.  Like total package can I take you home to the family hot.  Tall, did I mention blonde, slim, smart as a whip, funny and cultured.  (aside: these are the only two blonde girls I have ever dated, they both have relationship blogs for telling horror stories, etc, etc, yadda yadda you get it. weird)

But of course as with every girl I’m attracted to, there’s a pretty sketch dark side.  Not all that surprising, but…  I’ll tell the story tomorrow later.  Pretty interesting.  I hope she doesn’t mind.  Fuck that, if I don’t rate a page on her blog, I’ll make my own here and be proud of it. Heh.

Too Much Too Soon

First order of business:  In the coming weeks (ok, probably this weekend) I will be experimenting with converting this site to a wordpress dealie.  Currently I use Rapidweaver, which is this super cheap but pretty flexible template-based web design program that gets bundled into those MacHeist/MacUpdate things with the 10 pretty good shareware programs for the price of one… blah blah blah highly recommended but.  Going to hope I don’t fuck this blog up for too long. The point is to be able to update during the day from the web.
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Just got back from Los Angeles where I, among other things, met this super beguiling siren:

Of course when I was introduced to her I had no idea she was this indie darling.  Wouldn’t have mattered.  She was that charming kind of spacey that guys like me wish they could fall into completely, but know our cynicism would ruin it after like a week.  We talked (in a group) about how she hates babies but loves kids, and that none of the seances she’s been involved in have ever featured levitation.  I’m not spelling out her name here because it feels weird spilling the contents of that dinner even a little bit.  But I’ll hint and say the dinner involved some other semi famous yet warm and wonderful people, and I wish I was back there sharing Thai food right now.

OK.  Now. The love life. Blah blah summer fling girl says one thing, does a different thing then manages to twist everything in such a way as to keep me from having a solid, describable basis for being upset, and by the way no more sex. Waah wwaahhh waahhhhh!! She called me at work the other day livid, with a catch in her throat that told me she was hurting, too.  Seems some prick she knows had made some fucked up comment about us having sex and she decided to direct all of the rage and helplessness that stirred up in her at me.  She said I betrayed her to my coworkers by telling them about us.  I don’t think that’s true, but whatever.  I reacted poorly, shutting down and forgetting everything I might have said to defend myself or make her feel better.  She hung up on me.  Some dude called me a couple nights later from her phone at about 1:45AM.  I hung up on him.  It turned out that was someone who found her phone supposedly lost in a taxi.  Who cares?  Now she wants to talk shit out so we get along at the holiday party and the fucking company fucking ski trip we’re all going to be at.  I ask you again, who cares?  I’m not going to play the game with her anymore.  YAY!

On another note:  Met/dated three really great women recently, all over 30, thank god.  There’s three of them, which sucks.  I know the inevitable “you mean you’re dating someone else?” thing may come up.  I don’t know, I’ve never dated multiple 30+ year olds at once, so they may be more realistic than I expect.  And let me clarify, we’re talking first dates, not fucking marriage and trips upstate.  But I think it’s time to stop apologizing for looking for love.  At the same time it’s probable that none of these girls are right for me anyway.  None of them ever may be.

This is fun: