I Found Love in a Hopeless Place

I had a date the other night.

I was going to be meeting him for dinner in the neighborhood. 

It was an 80 degree day in October.

I had labored over what to wear and decided on my little black long sleeved Versace dress and turquoise suede Manolo pumps.  I threw on a fitted denim jacket to funk it up a bit.

I did my make up and headed out.

The restaurant was several blocks away, but I thought I’d walk.  Half way there, I began to perspire.  After all, it was 80 degrees!  So I took off the jacket at a stop light.

While doing so, I spotted a handsome man also waiting at the corner for the light to change.  I thought I saw him glance my way.

I thought to myself, “I must be lookin’ good in my Versace and my blue shoes in Manhattan.”

The light changed.  And as I began to walk, the handsome guy came over to me.  He reached over to my neck as he said, “I think you have a tag.”

How embarassing!  There was a friggin’ Verace tag hanging out of the collar of my LBD.

He continued, “You look so beautiful tonight.  You don’t want to ruin it by having a tag.”

I thanked him in my humiliation. 

We ended up chatting for about a half a block and then he went on his way.  I thought he was going to ask me out any minute, but it didn’t happen.

Imagine, finding love on the street in New York City. 

Well, not quite.

There’s No Place Like Home

I was invited to the New York Philharmonic on Saturday. 

Ok. 

It was with my plastic surgeon date.

Season tickets.

Front row center. 

Mezzanine.

It’s not everyday I get to attend the symphony, so I was breaking out some fabulous duds.  I decided to wear my black knit YSL dress, Versace coat, Chanel bag, and Christian Louboutin Lady Claude Swarovsky crystal peep toe pumps in fire opal red.

I must say, I looked fabulous.

Everything turned out great.  Hair, makeup, and outfit.

Jumped in a cab, and off I went.

Asked the cab driver to take it slow.  I didn’t want to be early.

How often does that happen?

Turns out I arrived about ten minutes early.  I hate being early for a date.  I much prefer to make a grand entrance.

I also dislike being late.  But I’d rather be a minute or two late than be there waiting for a date.  Don’t wanna look too desperate.  Even if I am.

So, instead of going into the restaurant, I dipped into Duane Reed to kill a little time.

I looked around for something my Mom needed, then roamed around.  I was a little overdressed for Duane Reed.  But, whatever.

I stepped up to the cashier to pay for my purchase.  There were some folks ahead of me, so I waited patiently.  As they left I stepped up to the counter, the salesgirl shuffled away from the counter.

I thought she was going off duty, and I was going to be pissed.  But then she said, “I just have to come out so I can see your shoes.  I saw you walking around earlier and needed to take a closer look.  They are so beautiful!  They look like Dorothy’s ruby slippers in Wizard of Oz.”

I thanked her, grabbed my bag and made my way up the escalator.  As I approached the revolving exit doors another young lady complimented my Louboutins.

I met my date.

After dinner, I hit the restroom.  A woman in there commented as well.

Well, my date didn’t mention anything.  Hopefully he was interested in more than my shoes!  And I don’t mean my chicken neck.

Botox and the City

I’m dating a plastic surgeon.

Does that mean he’s looking at the bump on my nose during dinner?

I have no idea.  I don’t know him well enough to ask.  But that is what I’m thinking a lot of the time.

The bump on my nose and the eleven on my brow. 

Oh, and my chicken neck. 

Did I mention my parentheses?

Normally, these things really don’t phase me.  But I can’t help but be a little self conscious. 

It’s fine with me.  I know just where to go if I ever decide I need Botox in the City!

My First Fashion Show

Believe it or not, I’ve never been to Fashion Week. 

Well,

Not until this year.

I went to the Rachel Zoe show on Thursday.

And.

It was

Fabulous!

I mean, not just the show, but the whole experience.

I’ve been dying to go for years.  It’s just that, at first, I didn’t know how to score a ticket.  Then, I got shut out a few times.

Last year, I went to Fashion’s Night Out.  That was awesome.  I bought Chanel nail polish.  All I could afford last year.

Walked so much, that I got huge blisters on the bottoms of my feet!

Well, anyway, the show was very exciting. 

Although I was on the look out, there were no celeb sitings.  Well, aside from Rachel Zoe and her cute hubby.

Aside from the near fainting spell from not eating dinner, and near wipe out from my seven inch peacock suede Daffodile Christian Louboutins, I was in heaven.

And I can’t wait for February!

Is That Who I Think It Is?

Last week I was sitting in my car, waiting for six o’clock, when it would be legal for me to park my car in that parking space for the night. 

New York City parking rules.

I often do this because I am parked right outside my door.  I wait about half an hour.  While I wait, I keep busy listening to the radio, blogging, emailing, making phone calls, and people watching when I run out of things to do.

The people watching is fun, and sometimes I see folks I even know.  On this particular day, I saw three people walking together on the sidewalk that I was parked next to.  Two guys and a woman.  One of the guys was sucking on a straw.  He kind of looked like P Diddy or Puff Daddy, or Sean Combs, whatever his name is this week.  I think Diddy sucks on straws.  The woman with him looked like his baby mama.  The other guy with them looked like a bodyguard.

All of this was going through my mind as they were passing.  I was wishing I could have gotten out of the car to see them more clearly.  But I couldn’t leave the car there, for fear of getting a ticket.  Then, I thought, “Take a picture!  Take a picture!”

I whipped out my phone and fumbled with it.  By the time I got it going, they were ahead of me with their backs to me.  But I figured I’d take a pic anyway. 

Well, you know how when you are trying to take a great picture, and you think you are?  But just when you are about to, you click, and then there is a delay before the camera to actually takes the shot?  And then you end up with some wacky photo of someone picking their nose?  Anyway, I didn’t think I’d get a good pic of Puffy, maybe just his back.  But… I clicked the camera while they trio had their backs to me walking away.  And, for some strange reason… just as the camera engaged, they all three, turned around and looked in my direction.  My camera snapped at the exact time that they turned around.  And took the picture shown on this blog.

I analyzed it, and analyzed it.  Was it really him?  I wasn’t sure.  I was too emotionally invested, at this point, to decide.

So, I thought I’d get other opinions.  I texted the photo to family, who never responded.  Then, I just forgot about it.  Two weeks later, I remembered, and showed some folks the shot and asked who they thought the guy looked like.

Puff Daddy, they said.

“Yey!!! Woo hoo!!”  I screamed.  “It was him!  I was really him!!”  I was just so excited that I had actually saw Puffy in person, no matter how long after the fact it was.

Shoenniversary

I recently went on a Shoenniversary to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale with my BFF’s Sookie, Pam, and baby Tara.

A few years ago, my niece, Pam, suggested we go to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale to celebrate the start of summer.  She had never been, and we thought it would be fun.  And it was.  I think I even blogged about it.  You can take a look at past blogs if you like.

Anyway, we had so much fun, (we purchased about ten pair of Louboutin and Manolo Blahniks combined) that we decided to go every year.  So, this year rolled around and we found ourselves back at Bergdorf Goodman’s shoe sale.  This time, we also added a visit to the Christian Louboutin store on Madison Avenue.  They were having their bi-annual sale as well. 

I was in shoe heaven at our Shoenniversary.  And so was baby Tara.  She was happy as a clam.  Perhaps we’ve created another shoe-aholic.

Although, I really wanted to purchase that day, I didn’t.  For some reason, I just couldn’t find anything I loved in my size.  I was sad, but my wallet was happy.

I thought, "I made it through without buying!  Maybe I’m making progress with my shoe-aholic-ism.  Yay for me!"

Well, that was a month ago.  Yesterday, I returned, to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale.  It was still going on!  And the prices were further reduced. 

Oh, it was so much fun. 

I tried on a pair of crystal Jimmy Choo’s.  OMG!  They were beautiful and $2000.  But for half price, they were a steal!  They were exactly my size and looked fantastic on.  Only, they heels were wobbly.  So.  No big deal, right?  They were gorgeous!  I was considering them, but I didn’t purchase.

Something made me leave the building without doing it.

I emailed my BFFs, this morning, the following:      

I have a confession to make...  I re-visited Bergdorf's shoe sale yesterday.  

Without "yous guys"

Made it out alive.

Without buying anything.

Even though now EVERYTHING's 50% off.  

Even the LOUBOUTINS!

Really low stock.  

But still some good stuff, according to me!

 I've been thinking about it ever since.

Even though I made it out alive, I thought about them all night long, in my dreams, and again this morning. 

That’s not healthy.

And that’s why I shouldn’t have gone.

A Date With Santa? Umm, I Don’t Think So!

I mistakenly went back on a dating site. 

Latinos Dot Com.

The only hits I have been getting are 100 year old short, fat, bald, great grandfathers from the middle east.

Really?

What’s up with that?

Not that I have anything against short, fat, bald, great grandpas, but I am just not attracted to them.

Some of these guys are not that old either.  Some are maybe a few years older than me, but boy are they not attractive to me.

The younger ones, I really am trying to stay away from.  I’ve dated younger, and it doesn’t work for me.  I wanna be the young one in the relationship!

The ones my age.  Well, they don’t want someone their age.  They’re going 20 years younger.

Recently, I received a wink from a member of Latinos Dot Com. There was no picture, but the guy looked really good on paper.  All his stats were good; age, job, location, etc.  And he wasn’t illiterate.  His personality seemed nice as well.

So, I wrote him back.  We exchanged a few emails and I was getting a little excited.  I got up the nerve to ask for a photo.  Before, I received the photo, he asked me out for the next night.  I didn’t respond, but was seriously considering going.  I started trying on outfits, shaving my legs and even considered doing my roots for the big occasion.

I thought, “What the heck.  Who needs a picture?  It will just cloud my view of the guy.  Is how someone looks really that important?  I am going to stop being shallow and just go for it.”

I checked my email.

He had sent pictures.

Santa Claus in July!

Willie Nelson’s father!

Great grandpaw Joe!!

Ugh!

No freakin’ way!  I’m not going!!

I’m not doing my roots for this!  Forget it!!

So, I didn’t go.

So, now what does this mean? 

Does this mean I am doomed for the rest of my life?  That I will be alone unless I settle for Santa Claus?

Maybe so.