I spend my days below 14th St. and generally above Canal. I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve been in love. I’ve had my heart ripped out and handed to me by numerous women. I’ve done my share of ripping too. These are stories of my New York.
Lately I hover between these two paradoxical states of being. Rabid Dog Horny and Sorta Emo, well not sorta emo, TOTALLY EMO. Right now I’ve totally swung emo. I’m listening to the Sunny Day Real Estate album Diary, wondering why I’m not in love with a beautiful brown haired angel who, like me, came of age in the 90s. I was not always like this. In fact, I was not like this 15 minutes ago. What has led me to such a state of faggerey? I will explain everything, lets turn back the clock to around 9 pm.
It has been established that I like skateboarding, enough for a fall evening ride through midtown. About five of us wind through the city ending up in the most cliche location possible. Astor Place. The five of us are fucking around, hissing at girls, skateboarding, eating candy, all the typical 30 something activities you’d expect.
Suddenly I see something out of the corner of my eye. One of our brethren is talking with one of the better looking things I’ve had the pleasure of chatting up recently! I immediately bee line over. I think he’s hitting off one of her Friends, so, all good for me to get something cracking. I chit chat, talk Facebook trolling and express my disappointment that shes never online to give a “hey” For no good reason, i throw a no-comply in the mix as we skate/walk and chat. I’m 14 again. No-comply comes off, flirty banter seems good. I let her get on her way rather quickly. It’s late and she is a lady headed home.
Jesus now it starts. I mean just the scent of an Patricia Field intern will send my blood pressure skyrocketing. I’ve gone from “going home to do some work and rest” to ‘is it too early to go to Lit” in 5 seconds. So I ask my buddy if he has the girls number. He does. I take it and instantly send out the first flirty text. As the skating wraps up, the texting heats up! I love it. I mean I LOVE a little flirty texting, always pushing the envelope a little, seeing how far i can take it without offending. Now were done skating, and I’m just like rabid horny. We hit one bar on the east side where a few people we know are chilling, nothing doing there. I have another obligation further downtown so leave the east village and head south. Destination number two looks good at first but after a couple laps, Nothing doing there either! Well, there is a repeat that I have no interest in repeating. I smack her ass anyway, and she gets the idea i might be game. I’m trying to clean up my act, and I’m not going there, not on a Tuesday before 3 am. I can tell I’m not going to get a “wanna watch a movie” text from the intern, not tonight at least.
I go home. Guys, knowing when to let a night go, and head home is really one of those essential over looked skills. If its 3, and you’re not talking to the girl at The Jane you really wanted to, just go home its a wrap. Then again there is something to be said for going till 4, the funniest shit happens, and you never know—if you’re there maybe “she” is there too? But I gotta side with calling it early on weeknights. Usually nothing good can come of staying out later and getting drunker on a Tuesday. Maybe you finally hit off that sorta cute chubby chick, but for the most part that’s the best thing that could happen and that’s not even good. You’re just getting the poison out at that point. OK, so I’ve had fun; I’ve texted back and forth with this girl; I danced a little; I saw some friends and I’m home before 2. On the walk home I have to admit I am still rabidly horny. I toss out a couple of go nowhere texts to some birds in a 10 block radius. Sure if I really wanted sex I’d have found a way to have it, but its not a night for repeating. SO my key hits my lock, and I hit the face book. Do my usual FB chat song and dance, add some “strange” to my friends and wonder if I’ve totally blown it with the only FB potential i really care about. (more on this soon enough)
All this shit, the bars, the texting, the FBing, the trolling, all this shit is exhausting, and there is only one way to stop it. It stops on a dime too. Almost, well not almost, it stops instantly when i want it to.
All i have to do is MASTURBATE.
So I DO. As soon as I’m done, I can not close windows on my computer fast enough. Facebook: “option W” Porn: “Option W” More Porn: “Option W” “Alt”Porn: “Option W” Once I’m back down to just Gmail, I look at my phone. Jesus Christ did i send these texts? What the fuck was i thinking. “Have a pillow fight with you and your roommate” Who says this kind of crap? Ten minutes before i masturbate, apparently I’ll say anything. So as I’m hastily closing FB Chat windows and hanging my head in shame over my iphone. The cloud descends. Emo Cloud. Suddenly I don’t want to sleep with anyone. I want to watch Morrissey Youtubes and wonder why I’m alone. I’m tempted to cancel my date tomorrow because I know there is not gonna be any magic, and then i can have more time to listen to this old Sunny Day Real Estate album and contemplate my capacity for love or lack thereof.
It seems like this is the situation every time don’t have a date or something magical happens. The further i get from my last tug, (last night under basically the same circumstances) the more ridiculous I’m willing to behave. As soon as I free the demon, I’m rocketed to the emo dimension. I just want to be loved. I just want to be understood. After an hour, emo becomes just wanting a girl i really like to make out with, and so on and so forth. That feeling slowly morphs over the next 24 hours, and right around the same time tomorrow night barring some magical romantic happening and exchange of bodily fluid, I will be back in the exact same position one quick had jive away from Billy Corganess. This could all be balanced by a mid day, or even a morning wank. I refuse the morning spirit quelling, I enjoy my peaks and valleys too much. Nothing and i mean nothing, not even booze, gives you that extra edge like not masturbating. You will make all the strong moves and send all the “home run” texts. You never swing for the fences harder than when you’ve gone 48 hours without release. I mean its tricky, the wrong combination of espresso or Red Bull, and you can easily blow every potential thing in your phone. Get the equation right: non-masturbation time plus coffee divided by right party before 1 am, and you’re basically unstoppable. This is why I hold back. Because when your firing on all cylinders, it feels better than the actual sex you end up having.
Tonight, about an hour after “the changing time” my true Facebook love hit me, and thank god I’ve already let lose. I’m also glad its been an hour or so. My sex drive is peeking around the corner, wondering when I’m going to change this 8 minute version of “Drown” from the Singles Soundtrack and put on some R Kelly.
Facebook crush’s perfect timing and my new relaxed state of being, lead me to ditch the Seattle bands. R Kelly is on and I’m whipping up some pretty charming E-notes. Soon I’ll be asleep and then I’ll be getting up and starting a new day. I wont jerk in the morning cause i need that tension for the day. I’ll be back tomorrow night. barring some miracle of pheromones, I’ll be here around the same time, Texting the ol “hey what are you up to tonight” Facebook, chatting up some girl i don’t even wanna talk to, let alone be seen in public with, and then I’ll pull the plug, “Go Emo” and start the cycle all over again.
