(Shall we have a vote on whether people prefer "dudes" or "lovelies" by way of address? Perhaps I'll mix it up.)
My dear pal Duval took me to another happenin' party a couple nights ago, hosted by some (very sweet) writer guy. His place was near the Chinatown Whole Foods and branches of lightning were flashing vividly in the East Village sky as I arrived in the pouring rain. In the kitchen, a chef was making halibut tacos. I ran into a friend of my novelist friend Laura Dave, and we chatted for a bit ... and then, a curly-haired stranger (Andy?) flirted with me, asking whether I thought it was appropriate to wear just boxer shorts when taking out the trash. (Frankly, I have no problem with it--I do it all the time!) Then I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned around to see my darling friend Kermie Ottawa*!
Kermie's real name means "A place that cannot be found" or "A permanent dwelling place or stronghold." And yes, he is just as hot as a person who has a name that means those things SHOULD be. Here's the run-down: he's about 6'2; visibly muscular but thin; incredibly smart; soft-spoken and humble yet full of quietly hilarious stories ... and confidence. He has this incredibly high-powered finance job ... and yet he does yoga and helps fund indie filmmakers. Seriously, it is just about impossible to find anything that's not pretty amazing about him! Even all the guys I know end up being charmed by him, and wanting him to be their BFF. He is totally New York City's Bachelor #1.
How did I get so lucky as to have him as a friend? Honestly, I have no idea. (Although it all started after I crashed a holiday party he was throwing. At the end of the night, he was standing near the door, saying good-bye to people, as I was trying to leave; and I, rather sheepishly, explained that I had not been properly invited. He didn't care a bit, and wanted to know who I was, and what my life was all about--not in a flirty way, but in a way that made me realize he is just an incredibly nice person, and excellent host, who want to make me feel at home. After that, we Facebook-friended each other, and then I tried setting him up with a friend of mine ... etc.)
Now, perhaps you are wondering why I am not totally in love with him?
Fair enough. You're not the first to ask, let me tell you. Everyone wants to know (including Duval and my other dear friend Daisy Milliner, etc, etc).
But look, first of all, it's not like he's coming by my apartment with flowers and chocolates every day, shouting up to my window, "Maura, Maura, let down your long brown hair!"
And second of all, I really value the close friendships I have with the platonic males in my life--like my old buddies from college--and sometimes, I just get the feeling I want a boy to be my friend, rather than my boyfriend. (Perhaps, in part, because I'm better at holding on to my guy friends than to my boyfriends!) Is that so wrong?
Third, perhaps most importantly, I don't feel like we have chemistry, plain and simple.
* * *
Now that we are on the subject of extremely nice guys, and chemistry ... I'm starting to wonder if I'm one of those chicks, who just doesn't like nice guys. I've managed to train myself out of pining for men who are unavailable in some huge and obvious way--either because they have a serious girlfriend or live halfway across the country or are unmedicated manic-depressives--but unfortunately, I still don't quite seem naturally capable of liking nice, available men who make it clear that they are into me.
I bring this up because I went on a date last week with a guy I "met" through the Internet personals. He was so nice--and also happened to be pretty sexy and quite smart, well-employed, interesting, etc. He took me out to a fantastic dinner--and paid for everything. He asked me out again on the spot and emailed me the next day to follow up.
Who could want more, right?
And yet ... why do I feel so lukewarm?
I've been hemming and hawing about making our next date, and still haven't done it yet. Now, I KNOW full well, in one side of my brain, that this guy is fantastic (and deserves a second chance at the very least) ... and yet I don't seem able to convince the other side of the brain (not to mention the lower organs) to go for it.
What the hell is my deal?
Do I have some kind of aversion to nice guys ... or am I just over-thinking this?
* * *
Anyway, just to wrap up about the rooftop party, with Duval and Kermie: I didn't do the greatest job of flirting there. I DID talk to a few strangers, but they all more or less struck up conversations with me ... and all seemed to be married or gay or female, on top of it.
I DID however, randomly chat with a few women ... who happen to work for Good Morning America! And now I am plotting with them (and my editors) in the hopes of maybe getting on the show. I think it's a LONG shot, but you never know. The whole experience is just one more vote for putting yourself out there in the world, though: If I wasn't on my year-long mission to flirt (and to be more outgoing in general), would I have met those Good Morning America women? I doubt it.
Okay, last thing: Some guy from "30 Rock" was at the party ... and he rode his bike there!
I love New York. Though man, is the weather totally disgusting here at the moment.
*His porn-star name, natch.