Crap...I Know You

First, let me just say that New York is clearly a ginormous city, and it takes awhile to build up your network of friends/acquaintances/people you recognize/etc. Especially compared to Austin where I was born, raised and attended college - I know no one here. So when I do run into familiar people on the street, it's kind of cool. Like when The BFF and I randomly saw our old roommate (who sublet for like a month) the other day at brunch. Nice to run into him (someone has been working out), and kind of ironic since we had just had a convo about how we would prob never see him again...except it was not really that random because Dos Caminos has a great brunch deal (FREE MARG) and is directly next to our apt and close to his new place...

Anyway...

So I'm usually pumped about the random run-in, until yesterday when - for the first time - I spotted a guy I had been out with a few times. Yes, there is an entire SATC (Sex and the City) episode dedicated to running from exes on the street. It's a legit fear, and now one of which I will be more aware.

The guy I saw, Ol' FH 2.0 was described here, and then mentioned in my ingenious feedback request scheme and also for sending a patronizing text about my capacity for humor in relation to my age. La-me.

Anyway, I spotted him and his date checking out a restaurant menu while I was walking home from the gym. We did not make eye contact, and I doubt he saw me. Which made me happy because a) Post-Ultimate Conditioning is NOT my finest look, and b) He was on a date, how do you make this introduction: "So and so, this is Rachel, a girl whose Avon Walk for Breast Cancer fundraising goals were met in part due to my donation, and who I took out a few times, introduced to my close friends and then never hung out with again!"

Spare me.

So after inconspicuously slithering by and ducking into the grocery store next door, I realized my heart was pounding. I mean, obviously saying hello wouldn't have been the worst thing ever, nor was him semi-falling off the face of the Earth that Earth-shattering. But the unexpected sighting reminded me that you just never know when someone might pop back up in your world.

I've been on enough dates to know the odds are decent of seeing a few of them randomly. But that doesn't mean I won't get awkward and uncomfortable as I try and avoid interaction. Especially when sporting sweaty gym ensembles.

At least, though, I did not look as bad as Miranda when she hid from her ex. Overalls. Gross.

Maybe the Most Depressing Article Ever

According to the NY Post last week, half of Manhattan lives alone.

First, this just upsets me as I have about 2.5 roommates more than what I wish I had. If you know that I have 3 roommates, yes that would leave me with .5 left over - which would be the point value of having a dog. Man, I wish I had a dog.

Anyway, according to new Census Bureau data, the number of singles in the city is continuing to rise to historic levels. So it shouldn't be that hard to find dates, or something. Where are all these single guys with their own apts? No seriously, please point me in their direction ASAP.

But wait, "Ladies, however, are at a disadvantage. There are 212,000 single female households compared with 165,000 male single."

Ugh.

The journalist of this amazing article goes on to assure us single ladies that "many of those women are lonely hearts, but they aren't all Carrie Bradshaws."

You know why? BECAUSE THE REST ARE WIDOWS. "It reflects the large number of elderly in the city's population, and many live by themselves when their partner dies."

So you are either a lonely heart/Carrie Bradshaw or a widow? Fantastic.

But all is not lost. You know why? Because we have this woman as a role model for either (or combo) scenario.


"There is a fine line between having a good time and being a wanton slut. I know. My toe has been on that line."


- Blanche Devereaux