He sends me lyrics, poems and songs. Shares his dreams, fantasies and childhood memories. He knows my secrets and I know his, yet we are both still like two star crossed teenagers finding love for the first time.
He makes my heart smile.
Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple. – Dr. Seuss
I learned of another loss of a close friend this week via Facebook.
This week, my girlfriend, “Bernie” (Bernadette) lost her battle with ALS.
To all that knew her, they knew the light inside he that shined and that she was loved.
Bernie and I met almost 9 years ago when we worked together in Human Resource. I recall her telling me, “I know where you live!! Wow. I grew up on that street, and from that first meeting, we quickly became close friends.
My times with her were spent like any others, sharing stories of life, discussing men, work, friends, having coffee, dinner, drink and believe it or not, we even went to a personal trainer together and started a work out routine.
This is one of my funniest memories of Bernie, as she was always so humbled. We started seeing a personal trainer together during lunch hours, and one day when she got back to her office, she had to call me to tell me that on her way back to the office, she’d stopped in the drive-thru of McDonalds. While sitting and waiting for her food, she realized that she still was wearing the heart monitor from the personal training session that we both just took….after laughing so hard about the fact that she’d done that, we also laughed that she’d gone to McDonalds after working out together.
We spent many days laughing at life together and watching the world go by from her yard or the patio next to the Bocce courts at the end of the street.
Bernie and I both had the misfortune of being unemployed together at the same time, and we even ran into one another at the unemployment office once, as we were both laughing and hugging about it…we started meeting regularly to encourage one another in finding new jobs. We even would have dinner nights, where I would cook and we would just stay in, as to feel like we were still going out.
Over the past few years, we had only spoken on occasion, as if moved to NYCITY and she to a home.
It’s sad to lose a friend so young and especially, knowing that they were going through something so tough before passing. Had I not moved away, I would’ve been to visit and spend time with her.
Rest in peace my good friend…I know you’re in a better place, but I wish I’d had a chance to say, “goodbye”.
Love & Light
Sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong world and possibly my dreams are the real world in which I should be living, dancing, singing, traveling and maybe that cat with the kittens that I keep saving will eventually stop having kittens for me to save. Then, there is the tiger that I see following me as I meander through fields, as I’m hanging out the side of a boat traveling down a river and the same tiger appears on the shore.
Maybe the cats are a series of warnings from my subconscious that when you’re dreaming of sitting at a baseball game and having a wonderful peaceful moment on a boat, and a tiger appears…perhaps someone in your life is meant to be the cause of the representative of the tiger?
You see, I’m scared of the tiger, yet drawn to him. When, I always save the kittens and the mother cat and I’m the savior.
This is a lot like life.
You never know when the tiger will show its stripes and or when it will attack.
Yet, you wake up each day and with good intentions keep traveling through your life in hopes that everything will be ok.
Lately, I’ve seen my share of tigers and I’m wondering if in some way, I’m not the cat that needs rescuing.
With each and every loss we have and every failure or love lost, it has all led me here. At times, these failures, I see as my greatest successes and at other times, just another girl with a dream. I still get up, get dressed and put myself back out there and know that I’m stronger than I feel.
It may have started with a swipe left or a swipe right, then a charming bio about his love of travel, dining and life and a few goofy photos while traveling posted on a profile, yet now I find myself waiting for each exchange from this man, who was once just a swipe right.
I’m grateful for his kind words, his romantic gestures and ache for all that he could become. All that I know is that I love the way that he makes me smile, the way his words touch my soul and how I imagine our days and nights together.
Do you believe in true love? Do you believe in soulmates? Do you believe that the synchronicities that happen between to people are binding and add up to more reasons to explore?!
My answer: I don’t know.
Recently, I’ve been challenged with this very question, as I’ve met someone new that I actually met on Tinder, of all places. I was looking for someone to have drinks with, date and I ended up meeting someone that makes me feel like a teenager.
I met someone that is finishing my sentences, texts me with the same thought as I am texting him- at the same time, we have similar preferences with music, art, love of words, reading, poetry, similar level working in our careers (his boss being in the US & mine being in the UK), both dreamers, love travel and you say, “what’s not to like?!”
He lives on a different continent, is one thing.
He challenges my beliefs that “someday” was a missed opportunity 20 years ago and now, we steal moments and exchanges between the sun and moon’s rotation. I miss him when he sleeps, but know that when I awake that I will awaken to some kind words from him, all of which I devour in minutes of bliss to wonder what life would be like with him beside me. Then, in an alternate or parallel universe, had we met sooner, lived near one another…would we have found each other sooner?
This man is amazing to me. I lf I created a list of the items that I would look for in my perfect person, he would have 90% of them. I can see myself in him, as he is an exact reflection of myself in ways.
He sends me poems, quotes, motivates me, we share our deepest secrets, desires, hardest moments, and I know his dreams, as they are similar to my own.
He gives me a sense of calmness just by knowing he’s there. He has made me a mixed tape of sorts in this age- via a Spotify playlist, and we have developed a dream life called, “Someday”, in ways, we have developed a language of our own, that only he and I would understand. We have gotten to a place we need not to say an entire sentence, but by a song reference and it becomes its own story. I can imagine him being there at the end of a tough day and catching me if I ever fall.
So, why is it that I’m so challenged in just letting this happen naturally, allowing my heart to open up? Why is it so hard being vulnerable? As with every step towards this man, I want to take two steps back in fear of losing what little faith that I have left in finding love. Yet, to find love, you must take a chance.
When do you just give in and let go of the past, jump in with everything and let things happen naturally?
Can we truly ignore these feelings and ignore them, or do we honor them and decide to take the scary steps and follow it where it takes us?
I’m at the crossroads here, as this feels like I’m on the edge of a very new adventure..and as scary as it feels, I don’t think that I can turn around now and need to take it one day at a time and enjoy what goodness it brings.
White Elephant, Chinese Christmas, Gag gift, re-gifting parties are always a great time…
I always wanted to be a “good-gifter”, since I know what being the victim of a bad gift feels like.
In regards to gifts, as I was growing up I used to get the worst Christmas gifts and these continued into my adulthood from my grandparents or aunt. Whatever it was, I usually received the pink one and my sister, the blue one.
Some of my favorite worst gifts were in my teenage years….
There was a strange flannel nightgown with little flowers all over it, and resembled something from, the TV show, “Little house on the prairie.”
Another was white ceramic cat that had pink rabbit fur glued to it, always makes me laugh remembering opening these gifts and I’m sure that my face said it all.
I finally started putting their gifts to the side and allowing my sister to open them first. One year, my sister opened a ring gift box first and it was a beautiful opal setting and showing it to us. I’m thinking… could they have possibly gotten this right? Then, I open my ring box to see a pearl ring. You’re thinking, wow…that is a nice gift, right? Yeah, well…my pearl was the size of an eyeball. It was something out of a costume bin or a gumball machine and it was hilarious, probably not to me at the time, but I did love showing it to people as they looked horrified.
As I got older, the gifts became more awkward.
When I was in my 30’s, I will never forget that I received a package of what appeared to be underwear. I thought that was odd enough, but this was a leopard print netting mesh panty set with top. Umm….. Ok. What the hell is this? Did they send me a nighty?
Odd thing about it, was that they didn’t have a crotch?! My grandmother sent me crotch less panties?? I gave these to goodwill with a laugh wondering who would buy them at Goodwill.
Then, another year, I received a strange lamp that I recall re-gifting and taking to a White Elephant gift exchange party… If I recall, someone actually fought over the ugly lamp. It was a crazy leopard lampshade thing.
Another time, my two close guy friends in high school once bought me a sweater for Christmas. It was “hands down” the ugliest sweater that I have ever owned. I recall that it was a blend of light brown, teal, purple, & black that I’d ever seen. However, since they were so proud of it, I had to act like I loved it and also wear it.
Then, I have had boyfriends give me some crazy things as well, some of which I wondered who they were shopping for when I opened them. Awful earrings, one gave me, I recall Christmas morning opening them and being so disappointed. There were so many funny gifts, one guy I dated bought me a DVD once, and I was like, “What is this? Who buys me a $10 DVD?” and I think that I’d bought him the DVD player. Umm, typical of my dating life… When it comes to gifts from people you are dating, I have learned that it’s better to just tell them what to buy you.
In my family, we always have a tradition on Christmas Eve with our friends to have a “White Elephant” party. They are generally awfully funny gifts that we intentionally buy for laughter, shock value and are usually hilarious. I must explain that this is one of the best events all year long, as we plan and prepare for this sometimes months in advance. While others show up with something normal or without a gift at all, the original members of the family tradition and friends always show up prepared for fun. My mother always has an extra gift or two wrapped, just incase someone shows up unprepared.
The funniest part about these parties is when someone new comes and they bring a nice gift and don’t necessarily understand the concept of a “gag gift” and bring something good, that you would actually want, yet they receive one of the funnier gifts.
I’ve seen the likes of a gift bag containing Peanut Butter, Jelly and a loaf of bread, singing stuffed animals, sexy toys, literally jingle bells men’s jock straps, and one year there was the set of men’s thongs that were furry and looked like Rudolph the red nosed reindeer with bells and all, bottles of booze, children’s toys, some of my favorites were from the “As Seen On TV” aisle or the Infomercial gifts. I think that I still have the “Shake Weight” somewhere around here…it’s that arm weight dumb bell thing, that looks like you’re doing something sexual jerking your arms up and down to tone them.
Others were Chia Pets, The Clapper, Flow bee, the thigh master, and such. The funnier part of these gifts is that some are so funny that they’re recycled year after year…like the infamous “Hank Williams” that sung and after a few years, he was finally retired.
I personally favored the booze gifts; however, as I was always traveling, I was unable to take the bottles on the plane, so it always seemed like we were trying to drink it down before I flew home.
So, as I prepared to go to another party like this a few years ago, I found the classic gift to bring…The neck massager. It was perfectly perverse, as you could imagine it was shaped like a “C” and a woman could actually sit on it for vibration. I think to myself, wow… this is perfect. Under $15 and will be a classic terrible gift. My friend that I was going with said that they understood the concept and wrapped a gift in a bag and away we go.
The party gets along with a lot of drinking, booze, there is some food…we’re all having a blast, they even have karaoke set up in the living room…after an hour or two, it’s time for the gift exchange. By now, we’re all too drunk to understand some of the rule’s, or they’re being made up as we go.
So, the game begins, people are picking, swapping gifts, there is a bottle of booze, a pocket vibrator with some lubricant in a stocking…it’s hilarious, someone opens a red velvet thong set for a man with white trim and yes, it’s fought over…next thing you know my friend grabs it and is running around with these over his jeans.
Finally, someone picks my neck massager, it’s an immediate hit, it’s immediately being ridden like a bull, and the rest of the party was a blur as I think that neither of us ended up parting with any of them…but woke up with a terrible hangover and calling each other trying to recap the night.
Later that afternoon, I open my purse to find something and find the Santa inspired men’s thong and a pocket rocket vibrator..hahaha and I laugh to myself… I finally left with the good gift!! How in the hell did these get here? I can’t wait to re-gift these again…the thong, not the vibrator.
Then, I find a video on my phone of my friends singing, “Hit me with your best shot!” ….One wearing the Santa thong, another in a green velvet jingle bells thong, and the third figured out how to straddle the neck massager and connect it to them…as he is holding a male blow up doll.
My friend later admits that he found the blow up doll in his entry of his apartment and had also pissed himself and vomited somewhere, as there were evidence on his clothes, along with a bag from Mc Donalds…we laughed so hard about him walking passed his doorman with that bag of food and a blow up man doll.
He never told me what he did with it, and I erased that video, as I never wanted to view it again…it was THAT bad.
This was such a fun night.
Classic Christmas tale.
Online dating typically leads to a great story or three, so when I ask the question, “When did LinkedIn become an online dating site?” I’m being sincere.
In my professional life, I tend to work on LinkedIn quite frequently as a networking tool; however, lately, I have been receiving email’s from men that send what seems to be legitimate invitations to “connect” and once we do, they email me seriously odd emails about my photo that I have posted. Which is odd because it’s not a sexually explicit photograph and it’s actually a selfie that I took of myself last year, if you want to be specific of its origin.
Anyways….over the past year, I have received several email’s that I’ve shared among my friends and coworkers as humor. Men…you should know that if you send something this ridiculous, it will be shared…that is just human nature.
Recently, I’ve ended my current consulting engagement and have received no less than 3-4 emails in the past 3 weeks from random men asking me about my marital status, telling me that I’m attractive, or… I love this one, “you have the most beautiful eyes, face & lips.” Really?!
Well, as I was sitting there last night, drinking a cup of tea and following up on my email, I accepted a few invitations for connections on LinkedIn, not thinking anything odd about them, until later I read the following email from Scott:
Date: December 2, 2013
Hello beautiful, staring at your lovely eyes for the past five minutes has been one of the most wonderful encounters i have had in quite a while, you make me think of the world like it is not gonna be a nice place to live in for the next 50 years without you in my life, your smile is like one of my best memories,i know this might sound hilarious but believe me its the truth i think you are the kind of woman i would want to wake up to see her beautiful face for the rest of my life, pardon me my name is scott
Ummm…. Well, let’s see Scott, first of all, “I sincerely thank you for the creepy email on Linked In and I do apologize that your next 50 years will be without me in your life. However, unfortunately, I have met enough crazy people recently.”
Best wishes –
The photo of Scott was quite interesting as well, and it offered up some good banter between myself and some friends.
No, I didn’t send this email; however, this morning, I got an email notification that my Match.com account (that I did not even know was still active) was automatically renewed. After an exhausting phone call, they wouldn’t refund my money (F-ck!). Therefore, I may be forced to try online dating again soon enough, if I don’t find love, well…maybe I’ll find a good story or three. With this being the case, maybe I am ready to try the whole online dating strategy once again in search of love…what is the worst thing that could happen?!?
The irony is that since I wrote this story, I’ve received no less than 4 more..these are to become the sequels.
So, Friday comes around, and I invite a friend to join us at the party in Chelsea. The night seems simple enough, catch taxi, pick up friend, and get to Art Studio in Chelsea to a magazine party. Typical Friday night in New York City, right?
Whilst we were on our trek in the taxi, we get stuck in stand still traffic on 5th Avenue around Rockefeller Center and opt to get out and take a subway downtown. At some point, my phone rings while on the Subway and it’s my friends at the party telling me that “They’re leaving because there is a huge line and its bullshit!” Then, the call drops and I haven’t a clue where they are heading…so, we decide to go on to the party to meet them or wait to get above ground to call. As we’re walking in the freezing temperatures to the event, we get to the event and there is a massive line to get in.
My friend sends me a text to come to the backstage and come to the seats (bypass the line). At this point, I’m in no mood because I’m sober, starving and this place is a shit show full of a people standing in line for something.
After a long stretch of exhausting texts, my friend comes to the line to retrieve us to enter the party….we bypass the line, gate keeper, walk through a maze of hallways into a strange room, where there are half-naked men/some women changing (presume they are model’s). I spy one guy with his hands down his knickers playing with his balls and wondering, “What in the hell kind of party is this?”
There are some people drinking, and then I realize that we are in the back stage area and it is separated by a sheet to the fashion stage (front). We walk through the sheet and are seated to the right front row seats for the show that is about to start.
Imagine an extremely hot and overcrowded room and there are people all around standing; photographers to the left waiting for the fashion show to begin. It’s hotter than hell in this tiny room…I’m pulling off my huge coat, and presume that I look like I’ve just worked out with the amount of sweat rolling down my back.
I am completely mesmerized by the people watching here tonight, there is a cross dresser in a strange dress, makeup melting with the high heat and the Adams apple and goatee are clear giveaways.
Then, I’m caught staring across at a woman in a moo moo type dress with zebra’s stitched in the dress (What in the hell kind of outfit is this?) and she is wearing some strange shoe hybrid that is a blend of a high-top sneaker and wedge. Around this same time, I catch another woman giving me the stink eye or possibly, that is just the way she look’s normally, and she is wearing a huge necklace resembling medium sized bowling balls around her neck and I’m wondering how much it weighs…as it is awful.
I’m thinking to myself and by this time, and probably saying it out loud, “Why am I Sober? Where are the free drinks? ” At some point, I know that I was thinking that this is why flasks were invented. I was definitely complaining about the fact that I was too sober to be in the venue with this show and I was trying to hold back my laughter as there were serious fashion people taking photos and among us waiting to see this new line.
I’m sitting in a chair and the show begins with a brief show with clothed models…then, they announce that we are preparing for the second show to begin in 5 minutes. There were random men walking about in their underwear.
Then the lights are lowered and within minutes and low and behold, there is a cock in my face. I am staring at men modeling briefs as they walk by me…his junk is in my exact line of vision, approximately a few feet from my face, and I am asking myself, “How funny is this? Wait, is that a tattoo on this guy, or is he wearing a tiger tooth?”
I’m trying to do anything that I can, not to laugh.
Yes, you are thinking Marky Mark (Mark Wahlberg) wearing boxer briefs in the Calvin Klein ad, aren’t you? Well, if that were the case, I would be smiling and content. However, imagine a dirty version of juveniles, covered with tattoos, and wearing sneakers and jungle themed jewelry. Hahaha… some of my friends would love that image, I imagine.
Then, even in the hottest venue I realize, ”Hold On….I’m going to take photo’s as no one would believe this is how I spent my evening.”
I know that you’re wondering… how did I end up here? Oh yeah…
Let’s go to this party on Friday! What’s not to like? Free drinks and all…All you need to do is send a confirmation message with your names.
See you Friday!
(No mention of men in underwear)
Sounds Great!! I’ll touch base on Friday and see you there!
In looking back at this invitation, there is no mention of underwear clad young men traipsing about showing off their manhood, but it was a great night with friends and every time I think about it, I laugh.
I finally got that drink after we finally left this place, but managed to be home and in bed by midnight with a great story; however, not before sending cock shots of my evening to my friends to share the love. 🙂
This event was a complete shotshow
I should have known this was going to be a strange day….any day in New York City can turn into an adventure quickly…New York City is a bitch, but I love it.
As I stand waiting on the platform, I notice the train schedule time is not changing frequently, it’s actually saying 2 minutes, but it’s now been 5 minutes and the time is now going up. There is a strange amount of traffic walking into the subway platform, which is a bit concerning to see it filling up so fast, with no relief of a train…meanwhile, we hear a muffled message about local trains being delayed downtown. This is when simultaneously, two older men, one to my left and one to my right start screaming obscenities about the costs of the subway and the “God Damned Delay’s!! We pay money for this shitty service!” one screamed, while the other screamed, “God Damn It! I got delayed 3 times yesterday on the fucking bus!! What the hell is wrong with the MTA!?!?” and he throws his paper into the subway tracks. Note to self, do not sit next to these men.
Meanwhile, I am monitoring the platform fill up more and more and wait patiently for the train. It finally arrives and to my surprise, it’s not a normal 6 train with the blue newer seats…it’s one of the older subways that runs on the west side with the brown panels and orange and yellow seating, no electronic messaging or notification of the times, delays, or next stops…which means that the speaker system is not the best either. I think, “Shit, what in the hell am I doing on this train!?”
As we finally get moving, the conductor tells us that we are now running express from 42nd to Brooklyn Bridge due to an accident at 33rd. Then, we get another message as we are being held again that there is now “No Service below 42nd on the 4, 5, or 6 trains and the train is being re-routed for uptown when we get to Grand Central!” WTF! I think to myself, “Damn…it must be a jumper”…and exit at Grand Central. I call my friend that I am meeting for lunch and tell her I’m delayed and walking there…meet me in 30 minutes, as I have to walk there.
I walk west across Bryant Park to head south to Eataly to meet my friend for lunch, when I finally make it there, this place is so fucking crowded with tourists and she is nowhere in sight. I text her and she says that, “she cannot talk now, but will call/text soon?!” WTF?! Today has been a complete shit show…I need a drink.
When she arrives, we have a bit of a wait for the table, then I order my food with a huge glass of wine, then another.
At this point, I’m being grilled by her on the trade secrets of dating in the United States, well specifically in New York City, as she is from the Philippines.
I’m like, “well… It’s difficult to meet people at our age, let alone date.” At this point in my life, I settle for a good book, a hot bath and a bottle of wine most weekends. However, she knows that I have been actively dating and have been in relationships, as the 2 times that we have both met and gone out, I have been involved with men. Yes, the only 2 men that I have been with in over a year happened to be timed right around the same time that she has been visiting in the New York City area.
She asks way too many questions. At some point, I tell her this. As she asks me more questions, I am reminded of needing another glass of wine. Yes, if they could pour the entire damned bottle in my glass, I’d be happy at this point.
The constant grilling of questions is reminding me of an interview and quite exhausting. Especially, when I cannot seem to figure out the “code to dating in NYC, let alone in America.”
I have been really good at being single most of my adult life. I could be voted off the island for this, I presume. One of my guy friends, recently told me that he needed to start lying to people about being “divorced” now, as people look at him funny because he’s in his 40’s and has never been married, let alone engaged. It’s sad because I can definitely relate to his dilemma, as I’m in the same category.
After lunch, we walk down the Highline, through the West Village, The Village, and Soho and to Chinatown, where she wants to buy me a Bubble tea and the plan is for us to get cheap massages. After walking 8-10 miles today…
I think to myself…”A massage does sound nice.” In my mind, I’m thinking spa…this is where that phrase, “Little did you know” comes into play. Let the fun begin.
We walk down Canal Street, and then we wind through the back alleys of Chinatown that I have never explored before. Imagine a fucked up maze of tiny streets with bright neon signs for massage parlors that are lit up and you know, they don’t look very clean, nor do they look very legitimate. My inner American girl that grew up in a middle class, southern/midwest family is screaming, “What the hell are you doing here!?! GO HOME!” However, she’s leading us deeper into the evasive maze and says that she always goes here when she is in New York. So, I let her lead the way.
As we wind through the streets, we pass many massage parlors, nail salons, hair salons and etc. all on the left side of the narrow street.
Then, we go into the smallest, thinnest store front with some strange writing on the wall and a fake rose bush on a table to the left of the hallway with a bright massage menu that I glimpse at as my friend is barking commands to the man and ladies in waiting area, that are greeting us as we walk in. The people that work here do not speak much English; they speak some words, but nod a lot; they smile and bow.
My friend seems to raise her voice louder to them acting like it makes them understand her more, since her voice is raised…this reminds me of something my mother would do and I laugh to myself.
The girls that work here are dressed in a strange “dirty” girl kind of looking way, maybe it’s to entertain the big, older gentleman that I just saw dive into one of the stalls with a younger girl for a “massage”.
The area that you walk in has some strange pleather sofa’s to the right, then you walk through a doorway with beads, yeah beads like the 70’s draping down to a darker area with red lighting and there are strange curtains hanging up on both sides of the room separating the massage tables, I guess.
They point me to one on the right. Mind you, it’s fucking freezing outside, so I have got a huge puffy coat, pants, sweaters, boots and etc. on and have a huge bubble tea in my hand. I walk beyond the curtain to undress and the space is obviously where they store crap, as the massage table is pushed up at the end against a small sofa with big bags all over it and shit everywhere. The massage table is so close to the curtain, that my legs hang out of it into the middle of the walkway and hands keep coming through the curtain as I undress. I place my belongings at the end of the massage table on the sofa with the other junk. The area around the table is about 6-12 inches from the wall/curtains on all sides. I finally get down to my panties and think, “Damn, whoever is massaging me must be in the Circus, as they’re going to have to trapeze into this tiny area and hang on strings to get around me to massage me! What in the hell did I agree to?!?”
Then, as I lay there practically naked, someone comes into the area around the sheet and for all that I know, my arse is possibly able to be viewed by anyone in the walk way. I’m trying to relax enough to enjoy a $40 hour full body massage. Someone starts rubbing my back and maneuvering around the table…I’m a ball of pins & needles and I cannot relax.
In my mind, I’m thinking…”What the fuck am I doing here!? Only $40? Am I still in New York? This place is scaring the crap out of me…are these people legal? Are they slave labor? Is that grunting that I’m hearing in the other stall? For fucks sake, what have I agreed to?!”
Then, my concentration is broken by my friend yelling in the opposite stall that she needs someone new. Well, that meant that the person that she didn’t want was then exchanged with the person that I had at present, so they swapped.
Then, I get a woman…the only reason that I knew this is because she has her hair down and keeps draping it over my back as she rubs my shoulders and at some point, she directs me in a movement.Wait a minute, is there a monkey in here, someone just hoisted themselves on the table with me! What in the hell just happened?
Meanwhile, a man interrupts the massage through the curtains to ask me, “HOW LONG YOU NEED ONE HOUR?” I reply, “Sure, whatever my friend has agreed to!” This was a strange reply that they did not understand, so they keep sending people over to ask in different ways, so I finally reply, “Yes. One Hour!” What am I doing here?
I’m being rubbed, groped, pushed and pulled all over my body and she is pulling down my panties and accidentally touching me in areas that she should not be that close to, so I keep shifting by body around the table and moving my head. Let’s just be clear, I am not here for any happy ending folks, nor do I care to get massaged in my nether region by a chick for cash. What in the hell is going on here?
After my massage is finally finished, I am shuffled out to the seating area on the pleather sofas with the strange Chinese woman that gave me the massage.She keeps showing me her hand and making a face. Apparently, she has been doing so many massages that she has injured her hand and She tells me, “You pay my boss! You pay my boss!” and then goes, “You tip me?!”
So, I hand her a $20, and she hides it after looking around in both directions, then I sit and check my phone, foursquare, face book and wait for my friend to return and finish while listening to strange music on the sofa with this woman, while she puts on makeup and primps for the next person to enter the parlor.
As I sit there, I wonder about the big man that I saw going behind the curtain with the other young girl when we walked in, what in the hell kind of service is he getting? As, I started after and had an hour massage and I’ve been sitting here over 30 minutes now… Is this place a brothel too? Is he getting a happy ending? Gross.
Once my friend finally comes out, she doesn’t stop there with the body massage, she has the owner giving her a 10 minute foot massage and her feet are on an ottoman, as he gets on his knees in front of her rubbing. She tells him that I need one and tells me that it’s included, I opt out, as it seems completely demeaning at this point, plus I’m ready to get the hell out of this place in fear that some authority will come in and bust it up at any moment. I make an excuse, “that I don’t want to take off my boots again.”
After her massage, we walk through the streets and wind back to the main streets and get back to Mott Street to modern day civilization. This is when we determine that we should get some food for dinner.
We see people standing in line for dumplings and dim sum and opt for another szechuan restaurant that looks pretty popular. Again, I need to explain that I am American, now this means that I’m somewhat adventurous, but only to an extent and fish is a touchy food item for me. I love sushi, love sashimi and I love meat, but mine comes in pretty pieces, in packages in the store and etc. I think you understand.
My friend keeps asking about sharing food and I tell her that I’ll just order something, as I’m funny about eating fish. I look at the menu and it’s huge…opt for spring roll’s, something similar to Kung Pao Chicken and she orders some fish dish and other dishes. She refers to me as such an “American”, and I think to myself, “Why yes, I am.” And I tell her about the time that someone tried slipping me some catfish to eat 20 years earlier and how upset that I was.
The spring rolls come, Dumplings come, I eat them too, then the Kung Pao dish, and I’m eating some green beans that she has ordered to share and it’s a huge plate. At this time, I have no idea what is about to happen. This little waiter comes with a HUGE platter with a WHOLE FISH ON IT and puts it in front of me, in between the two of us. Then, she looks at me and says, “Dig In!”
My face must have said it all…the waiter cut it in the middle exposing the bones everywhere and leaves it. She asked for Soy Sauce and rips into the fish like she’s never eaten before.
First thing she eats is the entire head, face, eyes and all with soy sauce, as I watch wondering about the bones, eyes and lips…then, eats the fins and explains that in Asia, this would be something that is fought over first in a meal.
Meanwhile, she is asking me if I want some. I reiterate that I’m funny about certain foods…fish, being one of them and the fact that she just ate the entire face off the fish…it’s messing with my appetite. You see, I’ve realized that American’s, or at the least, this one, we do not like to eat things that look back at us on the plate. I explain this to her as well, then as she goes back into the banter of asking questions about dating American & men in New York City while devouring the remainder of the fish. I am thinking to myself, I wonder if any of the men that I know and have dated would react well to someone eating a whole fish in front of them, let alone the head first. After we are finished, she had the server package up the remaining food, both the fish and the food that I had not eaten to take home with her.
This evening was good, but a very strange adventure in New York City…. When I got home, I seriously scrubbed my entire body clean in the shower to ensure that I was clean before getting into my bed for the night.
As I’m dying for another massage, I’m still not tempted to return to this land of the happy ending.