Dating in NYC or It Puts the Lotion in the Basket

I have a great life. I have a beautiful apartment, a blessed career, supportive friends and family, and a dog with the bladder control of an Iron Man triathlete. What I don't have is a good old fashioned boyfriend. You know, the kind that holds your hand during scary movies, and dances with you at your friend's weddings, and makes you chicken soup when you are sick. I haven't had one of those in ages. And the last one that I had was a vegetarian who made me Annie's No Chicken Noodle Soup when I had a cold, which if you ask me is just total fucking bullshit, and quite frankly a warning sign that I should have heeded. But that was ages ago now and lately I am finding dating to be a bit of a chore. And I already have a lot of chores.

The problem is that when you work six days a week in the theatre it's tough to find the time to get the laundry done, let alone embark on a meaningful relationship with another human being. (As a sidebar if anyone wants to swing by Park Slope and drop my laundry off at the Fluff and Fold that would be tremendous.) So I find myself turning where many a jaded time pressed woman in her thirties has turned. I am fully immersed in the world of online dating, and let me tell you kids, it is not a pleasant affair. It's like shopping for a weeks' worth of groceries at the Duane Reade. I am seeking sustenance and all I am finding are Easy Mac and Mini Ritz. And I do mean "Mini" here people. It's not pretty out there.

Now look, I don't mean to imply that I am such a great catch, but I think that I am better than Duane Reade level snack foods. I may not be Whole Foods, but I am at the very least Trader Joe's, maybe even Fairway on my better days. And yet this is what I am being offered in the online world. Allow me to offer you a few choice quotes from some of my more eloquent suitors.

This is from LovePa a charming gentleman from Long Island City who had this to offer:

"About myself ,There lot to say about me but there is never enough to say about your self,but I am a very nice guy,quite I dont know what else say ,may be later on."

Well said LovePa. I think that sums things up nicely for me.

Sometimes I just look at the profile pictures to get a sense of people. Here is one of my recent favorites.Not bad, right? If you look closely you can see the woman he keeps in the pit in his basement reflected in his glasses.

Way up at the top of my enemies list is this 28 year old Rhodes scholar from Jersey City who made his openness and availability abundantly clear when he said,

"i dont discriminate ever anyone n everyone feel free to bother the shit outta me on here.. suckas... omg this shit has spell check? geez."

If only his fellow site members had been so observant. Under the category heading of Favorite Books he has listed "not so much on the readin.." Gee, you don't say.

And thus the journey continues. I will keep on keeping on in the hopes that someday my love will ease my sniffles by bringing me a box of tissues and a bowl of soup. And as God is my witness if there is tempeh in that soup there will be fucking hell to pay.

So That Happened

Hey guys and gals! Remember that time that I made that big to do about relaunching my blog back in 2010? Yeah, me neither. Let's move past that shall we? Here we are half way through 2011 and I have been extremely busy not doing any writing. In the interim I have managed to kill several plants, eat my weight in Trader Joe's Honey Wheat Pretzels, and get myself into a new Broadway show. So you know, I've accomplished at least one more item on my bucket list, plus I got into another Broadway show. It's been a good year.

So here I am happily ensconced in my dressing room at The Music Box Theatre for the next couple of months. It's been lovely up until ten minutes ago when I was bitten in the ovary by a horse. Let me back up. I wandered down the stairs onto 45th street during the intermission to do my nightly wave across the street to Chris Rock. (We have a thing going. In my mind. It's complicated.) So there I am doing my best casual lean against the street lamp when a mounted NYPD officer wanders up with her beautiful brown mare. She ties him to the post next to me. I think nothing of it. That is until the horse casually leans in and takes a bite out of my uterus.

"Excuse me mam! Could you please not touch the horse!"
"Um, I didn't. It just bit me."
"Well can you not STAND there?"
"Uh, I work here. Sorry I..."

At this point I waver as I come to realize the searing pain coursing through my midsection. Naturally she is all apologies and offers to find me first aid.

HA! Just kidding. She basically gives me a look that reads, "Idiot standing in the way of my psychotic horsie's mouth," and then ignores me as she moves on to trading riot stories with her fellow mounted GED candidates.

So that was a whole heap of fun. I stumbled into my stage manager's office and very dramatically retrieved an ice pack for myself from the freezer. I can now cross "Get bitten by horse" off of the bucket list so really that's two whole things that I have accomplished so far this year. All that plus my imaginary relationship with Chris Rock and this might turn out to be my most productive year to date. Doubtless I will be seeing this image in my dreams for the next several weeks. Yeah. Horses are total assholes.