March 30, 2011

spilling the beans

I’ve never been very good at keeping a secret. If you’re planning a surprise birthday party or an engagement or any other event that needs to be kept under wraps, it’s probably best not to tell me. I have a very serious case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome (also known as Yente Disorder). And yet, somehow I managed to keep this one to myself (it was not easy, ya’ll). For weeks I’ve known about this project but was unable to share the news.

TODAY I can very proudly make the announcement.

I will be Ms. May, one of the featured bloggers in the 2012 Blogger Body Calendar!

I am beyond thrilled that I was even considered to be among so many brilliant and inspiring women for this project. This year’s theme is “Survivor and Strength” and all proceeds for the calendar go to Violence UnSilenced, a wonderful charity devoted to providing the help/support that women in domestic abuse situations desperately need.

I would like to extend a very special thank-you to my very talented and dear friend Shar of Movements by Shar who photographed me for the calendar (check out more of her work here). She takes some seriously amazing photographs, and most importantly, she really helped me relax in front of the camera. She also moonlights as a videographer. And she choregraphs and dances. Look her up if you’re in the tri-state area and tell her Charlotte sent you.

Here are some pictures from our shoot. FYI, these photos will not be in the calendar. You’ll have to purchase and donate to this worthy cause to see!

Posted at: 12:08 pm by |Filed Under: featured blogger | , 34 Comments
March 27, 2011

this post is all over the place. but i don’t care ’cause i’m going to vegas.

After my last dating snafu, I decided to cool it with the online stuff for a while (I think we can all agree that Jacob would deter most people from dating). I just don’t feel like it at the moment. Which isn’t to say I don’t eventually want to find a boyfriend, but I’m living the life right now and don’t think it’s necessary to sit across the table from a stage five clinger so I can convince myself and society that “putting myself out there” is my best option. Eff that.

Yesterday was spent in transit for approximately 5 hours (the joys of living without an automobile) to go to a friend’s baby shower out on Long Island. It was wonderful to reconnect with friends and share in the joy of a couple expecting. It’s a beautiful thing when your friends start having babies and I’m thrilled I’ll soon be an aunt once more to two very dear friends of mine.

And a funny thing happened on my way there. As I sat in a Dunkin Donuts on 31st Street awaiting my train to Merrick, a cute young musician asked me for directions and then complimented me on my coat. We chatted for a few moments and he told me he lives in Boston. He was in town with some friends, his eyes smiled, and they had just played a gig the night before. Figures. New Yorkers don’t stop one another with this kind of casual confidence. And after months of lamenting that I’m never approached in any bar or coffee shop, I did the only thing I knew how. I turned 50 shades of red, gathered my bag and french vanilla coffee, and bolted the hell out of there, leaving my spine somewhere along Seventh Avenue.

Did I mention I’m heading to Vegas in just six days? I wonder how many shenanigans my girlfriend and I can get into in a few short days.

Also, stay tuned. I will be announcing some very exciting news here on Wednesday!

Posted at: 9:50 pm by |Filed Under: dating | , 20 Comments
March 23, 2011

sorry, gut. you now have my full, undivided attention

Ever have a “what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-here?” moment while on a date with a perfect stranger? That moment happened for me at precisely 4:50pm on Sunday while seated at a very chic Italian bistro in the West Village with someone I had met on OkCupid just days before. I can’t say that it was a terrible first date, but I knew going in that I wasn’t meeting the man of my dreams either. He seemed strangely persistent over email and text message to meet as soon as possible and had mentioned the possibility of watching his copy of the movie Food, Inc. together when I said it was on my list after just two email exchanges. And yet, I told my gut to eff off and went along for the ride anyway.

But let’s rewind to approximately 4pm (just minutes into our date) when he asked how I liked living in Hoboken. I told him I loved it but I was ready for some new scenery after living there for five years. His response?

“Depending on how things work out today, there may be a room available in my house in June.”

And somehow I didn’t run for the hills.

To be fair: Jacob is a respectable guy. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s take-home-to-meet-the-parents material, but he has many redeeming qualities, most noticeably his intelligence. I’d much rather discuss the state of the economy or politics on a first date than Charlie Sheen’s latest rant so we did engage in a fair share of healthy banter. But for a good 20 minutes I sat back while Jacob rattled off scientific terms I didn’t know to explain his theory of evidence-based politics. I think I can hold my own when it comes to politics but I told him at least twice that science tends to go over my head. But I listened. And listened. And then I caught the waiter give me a sympathetic glance and I thought he would rescue me, but alas, he refilled our waters and made a beeline from our table. Bastard. Can’t say I blame him though.

Towards the end of the date, while we were still seated at the restaurant, Jacob asked if I’d like to get together again. I probably shook my curls a bit too enthusiastically when I answered in the affirmative. Hadn’t I just discussed with friends how terrible it is to lead someone on?

I’ve learned my lesson. Believe you me. Never. Again.

I spent a large portion of the next day at the German Consulate with my mom (who was renewing her Visa), filling out paperwork, getting fingerprinted, and compiling all the appropriate documents to obtain my European Union passport. I was exhausted by the time I got home and didn’t feel like responding to Jacob’s “How are you doing” text message.

Tuesday rolls around.
6:45pm: Received a text message from Jacob that said “Charlotte?”
6:59pm: Missed called from Jacob.
8:16pm: Another text message. “Did I flip you out or something?”
10pm: Finally had the chance to log in to OkCupid with the intention of telling Jacob to cool it. But he beat me to the punch and had instant messaged me.
10:41pm: I wrote him a lengthy email explaining that I enjoyed getting to know him, but he was too pushy and I wish him the best of luck.
10:43: He doesn’t think he was being pushy; he just wanted to confirm our plans for later this week.
10:49: Another email. Doesn’t understand what went wrong. Society is fucked up, he tells me.

And there you have it, ladies and gentleman. How to completely screw yourself from securing a second date.

Posted at: 10:47 am by |Filed Under: dating | , , 29 Comments
March 17, 2011

the art of muff cuffing

Recently I found myself discussing the quintessential differences between men and women with Scott of Synergy for Singles (a wonderful group; find them on Facebook!). I was trying to think of a topic that would appeal to both sexes but obviously told from the female perspective. I’ve had the idea for this post in my head for a while now and I thought this might be the perfect time to write it. Thanks to Scott for the inspiration and hope you enjoy the read!

***

Over the summer one of my besties and I mapped out Phish’s tour schedule, loaded up her new car (which she had dubbed Mable the Enabler), and we followed our favorite band, making stops in Connecticut, upstate NY, and Maryland, and venturing as far as Wisconsin and Indiana. When it was just the two of us we never encountered any problems meeting men. Then again if you’ve ever been to a Phish show, you know it’s a giant sausage fest. And finding nice single boys is kind of like shooting fish in a barrel.

It wasn’t until Halloween weekend in Atlantic City that we found ourselves facing our biggest dilemma as single gals on tour: while surrounded by our male friends, we were incapable of meeting the boys we had our eyes on. It became a running joke for us and that weekend will forever live on as Cockblock 2010.

I’d like to interject here for just a moment because it occurred to me while writing this thought-provoking piece that I didn’t know what to call the female equivalent of the almighty cockblock. Because, believe it or not, sometimes men get in the way of our game, too. I was going to lament on this male-driven society we live in and I even spent several hours trying to come up with creative names (muff snuff was one suggestion I was particularly proud of), but a bit of Internet research led me to the discovery I was hoping for. According to Urban Dictionary, the proper term for effectively blocking a woman’s bits is known as a muff cuff. That works, right?

So, there we were at Boardwalk Hall surrounded by our wonderful friends (if you are reading this, understand it’s all in the name of effective journalism). Together they formed a united front. A makeshift chastity belt, if you will. How were we supposed to meet all these adorable phishheads with a circle of men around us? I have also learned the hard way (that’s what she said) that sex eyes do not penetrate a muff cuff.

This happened again a few weeks ago when I went to see Trey Anastasio at Terminal 5 with some friends from college and assorted guys I’ve met while on Phish tour (unfortunately, my friend was out of town and couldn’t make it to that one). Out of a group of six, three are married, one is engaged, and two are single but brotherly types. Going out with the lot of them, while incredibly fun, is not improving my odds of meeting a single male. Ordinarily, I could care less about shacking up while I’m out on the town. But when I’m at a show, I love to shake it and it would be nice to find someone I can share that music connection with.

I’ve realized that it just won’t happen unless I break away and take some bathroom breaks. Or offer up a round of drinks and head to the bar solo.

I’d be curious to know if this has happened with other females in my demographic trying to get their swerve on. Have you ever been muff cuffed? And to the fellas: are you guilty of this attack on single women? You owe me a drink if you are.

Posted at: 9:54 am by |Filed Under: dating | 18 Comments
March 14, 2011

guest blogging–be awesome instead

Happy Monday, all (groan, I know).

I was asked by Hutch of Be Awesome Instead to guest post for her while she’s training in Dallas and there was no way I could say no. As the title of her blog indicates, this California chick truly is awesome and I was incredibly honored she asked me to share her space today. Hutch is sweet, funny, and down-to-Earth, and she used to reside in my current hometown of Hoboken, NJ, which makes me feel a special bond with her. I do hope you’ll stop by and show her some love.

You can read my guest post here.

Also, my big bloggy sister Connie of Sogni e Sorrisi has provided some very useful information for anyone interested in helping in the relief efforts in Japan. Please click here for more information (and a very warm thank you to Connie for compiling this list of organizations).

Posted at: 9:40 am by |Filed Under: dating | guest blogging | 10 Comments
March 11, 2011

saucony sneakers under the coffee table

I’m not sure how I was expecting the night to go but I certainly wasn’t planning on that.

After a friend cancelled for drinks last night, I was perfectly content to go home, put on my pajamas, and drool over Casey Abrams on American Idol. I hadn’t been home all week and I was looking forward to some couch time. But then I received a text message from my buddy Scott asking if I wanted to go for drinks and I didn’t want to say no. We’ve tried making plans for weeks and we were never quite able to coordinate.

Tonight was our night.

We met up at Mulligan’s, a small Irish pub in Hoboken, and caught up on life, work, and all the in-betweens. I hadn’t seen him in ages and I wanted to hear about his most recent breakup, which was still weighing heavily on his mind. At one point in the conversation he mentioned he just wanted to get out and have sex with everyone.

And I told him I understood this, never thinking for a moment that he had ever considered having sex with me. I mean, we were strictly platonic and I had just been pimping out some of my friends to him.

After we’d had enough to drink, I asked if he wanted to come back to my apartment since it was on the way to the light rail. He offered me a cigarette and we stepped out into the night clutching our weathered umbrellas and avoiding the large puddles on every street corner. Once we made it inside, I set up some tea and we dried off. We listened to the rain and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I took a seat next to him on the couch.

Our small talk took a slightly different edge when he placed his hand on my kneecap and told me how small it was (I didn’t know how to react to that either). I blushed and reached for my tea and he leaned over to kiss me. It was passionate. It was unexpected.

His hands climbed the small of my back, caressing my skin, traveling between my thighs.

I pushed away.

“I’m sorry, Scott. I just… wasn’t expecting this…”

“I wasn’t either,” and he reached for the back of my neck to pull me in closer to him. He was a good kisser. But he could tell I wasn’t entirely comfortable. I had known Scott for years. Cute, fun, intelligent, and witty Scott. We’ve always had great chemistry. What the hell was wrong with me?

He got up to leave and I pulled him in closer for one final kiss. But instead his hands roamed further. “Look at this yoga booty,” he said before picking me up and taking me into the bedroom.

He threw me onto the unmade sheets and we ripped our clothing off. I was starting to warm up to the idea of sleeping with Scott. It’s just sex.

Just sex.

And sometimes that’s all we ever need.

Posted at: 11:49 am by |Filed Under: sex | the bachelorette lifestyle | , 18 Comments
March 8, 2011

never had a home like this

This past weekend Hoboken celebrated it’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, a tradition that brings the finest frat boys from the tri-state area. As any self-respecting, non-Irish, older-than-25 year old would do, I fled the city as fast as my little legs could carry. I’ve experienced all kinds of post-college antics but the stench of urine and vomit first thing in the morning is something I’ll just never get used to. Don’t get me wrong. I have participated in all the St. Pat’s Day festivities over the years–the long lines to get into the already filled to capacity bars, the house parties, the early morning drinking–and I’ve had an incredible run. But now that I’m 31, I feel I may have outgrown this tradition and this town in general.

Last year may have been the final straw for me. When my adorable blonde-haired blue eyed friend came to visit, we walked back to the train only to be harrassed nine times over. Hearing the drunk ramblings of out-of-towners looking to score with any piece of ass they can find is not my idea of a good time. And frat guys just don’t turn me on.

I think this might mean I have finally outgrown my current coordinates. That feeling has been nagging me for quite some time now. I’ve been living in Hoboken for almost five years now and, though we’ve had some good times together, I like to think about where my next home might be.

Here are some thoughts:

Manhattan: As much as I’d love to make the Upper East Side my home, I can barely afford my current apartment. And I don’t want to take on roomies, either. Sorry, old gal. I’m afraid I have to rule you out.

Queens: Admittedly, I don’t know too much about this borough though I have several friends who reside in the Astoria area and they seem to like it. Good bars, beer hall, fine dining… It’s a possibility.

Jersey City: I have a few friends here as well, so this location would come with a drinking crew. Rent is a bit cheaper than what I pay in Hoboken and my commute would remain the same.

Brooklyn: Although most of my friends here are married and Brooklyn is one of those places people complain about traveling to, I’m drawn to it’s hipsters, barcade, and vibrant music scene. I feel as though we’d get along well together.

I have a ways to go until my lease ends but it’s always fun to think about changes. Anyone care to weigh in? Where should Charlotte settle next?

Posted at: 1:08 pm by |Filed Under: moving | , 17 Comments
March 3, 2011

my date with nate

I think I’d rather have someone break up with me than be the one to turn down a nice guy. Okay, maybe not, but I’ve never been very good at that part.

Let me take you back to Thursday night, to a sushi restaurant in Hoboken where I was enjoying dinner with my buddy Austin (hey, Austin! I’m giving you a shout-out in my blog!). We polished off a bottle of wine before going to the Village Pourhouse for a nightcap. Over dinner, I told Austin about Nate, the wonderful and sweet Ok Cupid guy I had been talking to, and how I thought he was too good to be true. Austin spoke for all men that evening, giving somewhat helpful advice and reassuring me that I should not pitch for the other team just yet (I told him about my decision to become a lesbian. It lasted all of five minutes).

When I returned home later that evening, I had a missed call from Nate.

I decided to call back, which in hindsight may not have been the best idea considering the amount of alcohol I had just consumed. Amazingly, I didn’t scare him away and our date was still on for the following evening. He had put effort into planning everything, which is always refreshing and greatly appreciated. The plan was to meet at a dimly-lit bar on Sullivan Street, head over to a vegetarian restaurant called Quantum Leap, and then end the evening listening to some music at the Bowery Poetry Club.

I’ll skip a lot of the details but will tell you the following: conversation flowed at a natural pace without too many awkward pauses. Even though Ok Cupid says we are more than 90% compatible, I knew right away that a friendship was all there could ever be. That spark was just nowhere to be found.

But I wanted to be fair and decided to give it a second shot. He invited me out to lunch on Monday and we went to a cute little wine bar not far from where I work.

Still nothing.

He emailed me to hang out this Friday and I thought I should maybe let him down as gently as I could. Because I care for this one. I didn’t want to disappear off the face of the Earth as internet boys had done in the past with me. He deserved better than that.

Surprisingly, he appreciated my honesty. He told me that my email made him feel good about himself and that he looked forward to hanging out with me again as friends. It was so sweet, I had to fight back tears (stupid hormones). I will say this: Nate is living proof that there are good ones out there. And I’d much rather find myself in the presence of a nice guy than on a date with a douchebag any day.

Posted at: 9:45 am by |Filed Under: dating | , 25 Comments