Boys Life

It’s a few weeks after Fashion Week and one of those ‘password required for entry’ parties is happening at the Bowery Hotel. My best friend and I get there early and quickly the party is in full swing. He’s not really interested in picking up girls, tonight is about me. We’re assessing the situation: one gooney friend of a friend I’ve met before. She’s already borderline wasted and it’s not even one. Nope. The black hair, Leigh-ish bob, on the couch, with the great ass. Looks good, but something about her fur vest is putting me off, screaming PR, screaming annoying. Nope. A repeat appears. Nope. Then I see her. Perfect. I’m almost speechless for a moment. Tall, slender, sexy, overly fashionable haircut making her look almost like a lesbian. Almost. She is under dressed in the American Apparel Grey Hoodie; possibly insecure about her outfit, but totally adorable. My best friend sees her too, and right away he’s all over it for me. I have a type. I’m totally predictable. Close friends, even acquaintances know exactly whom I’ll gravitate towards in any room. These types are not always who I end up sleeping with, and I don’t often take looks over personality, but here at the Bowery, making superficial decisions, I am incredibly predictable. She is acting out a little and pretends to pick her nose to get a rise out of her friend. She shrugs her shoulders, dismissing not only her friend but all of us, everything around her. She does not care about the who’s who of the Bowery on Password Night. She’ll drink and party with us, but she needs to somehow plant her flag of indifference, be unimpressed by Downtown. I take it for one of two things. The very rare: actual indifference. Or the incredibly predictable: out-of-towner insecurity.

You’re on a weekend pass from San Francisco or Philadelphia, visiting friends you feel like hardly know anymore. You lash out at the expensive clothes, the haircuts, the attitudes. Sure, everything you say is valid, and we are all so ridiculous. But when you’re just some interloper in a hoodie, insecurity, like rot creeping through the hull of an old wooden ship, will stow away on all your words, sabotaging their journey east, from your mind to New York ears. You’ll be right, but it won’t matter. Genuine apathy or Portland insecurity, she is adorable, and totally my type.

“Dude that’s your shit over there, WOW!”

“I know, I know, I know. Fuck. Perfect. You think they’re lesbians?”

Suddenly, I’m making direct eye contact with her.

“Nope. Did you see that?”

“Dude, she looked right at me, it’s fucking on”

She is a few feet away and something is holding me back. I’m lacking the swagger, that could give two shits cause I just got laid last night swagger. I can’t lie, I’m a little shook. I’ve not cold-called since fashion week, and I’ve yet to drink that essential third Diet Coke needed to just be reckless. I talk to a couple of the gay guys we know, asking if they think she’s a lesbian, just avoiding what I know I have to do. A couple minutes later I turn back around and she is gone. I finish Diet Coke number two, FUCK IT. I beeline across the no-man’s land between the couches and the dance floor, right out into the crowd.

‘All your friends have gone away, so let’s celebrate…’

Australian Pop and Aspertame give me courage as I head towards her. Under the DJ now, right in the middle of all these people, I grab her to introduce myself. Before I get a word out, I’m confronted with someone beyond the cute I saw in the entrance hall; she is stunning. I fumble.

“Hey what’s up, I’m Bla Bla Bla.”


“I’m Ashley.”


“You’re not from here, are you?”


“No. I live here.”

Fuck. Fuck. Well, I didn’t see her talk to anyone but her one friend. None of those people everybody knows at least, just her and her girl. SHIT. She turns around and talks to her friend. I wait it out. Seconds tick by. ETERNITY. She’s not re-engaging. Humiliating. I wonder if anyone is watching this blunder. I scan the room avoiding eyes. Obviously nobody is paying attention to me; in the middle of the dance floor everyone is dancing. Looking at Ashley’s back, I start to halfheartedly shuffle my feet. Instantly I feel pathetic. I let go.

Get out of here before you humiliate yourself any further. Wait it out on the sidelines, and maybe re-approach after she’s had another drink, or three.

Pushing back through the crowd, I’m proud of myself. She is slamming, and not many dudes here would have the sack to just roll up and talk to her. I refuse to let this fuck with my night. Halfway back to where my best friend and the gays are waiting, I bump into Jessica. Jessica and I had a date. She’s cute, a bit of a lush, but totally sweet. We fooled around, but it didn’t go to far. I had wanted a second date, but laziness had set in, and after a few late night: ‘what are you up to’ text messages, we had yet to reconnect.

“If you want to just fuck me, all you had to do was say so.”

Holy shit! Quirky, beautiful, brunette who! I pull Jessica’s head close to my mouth and let my lips brush her ear as I talk. I tell her I want to fuck her right now, and let’s leave as soon as possible. It’s on. I return to my crew, defeated and victorious.

I hum David Crosby lyrics in my head, instructing myself to love the one I’m with as I head back into the throng to find Jessica. Reunited, we hit the patio to smoke. In the north west corner we’re necking, not even drunk, I am so tacky. Ashley is 10 yards away, with her friend chatting and smoking. Fuck, I wish I was talking to her and not making out with this dipshit. There is no way she can see me in the dark though. I retreat with Jessica. We burrow under the coat laid across our laps, kissing more, groping. After a few minutes we surface for air. Still half hiding under the coat, I help her light a cigarette. I suggest a rapid departure to my place. Jessica wants to socialize and say some goodbyes first, so we split up and make plans to reconvene in fifteen. I head back inside and grab my friend.

“Taking that one home, mission accomplished, but part of me wishes I was kicking it to the brunette. She is perfect.”

“Dude,”

He does not have to finish his sentence. Fuck yeah, I’ll make another run at it. I head back to the patio, this time with indifference on my side. Jessica’s inside now, might as well be on another planet. Ashley and her friend are talking with two dudes, clueless looking and totally dismissible dudes. I walk up, take her arm and we turn away from their conversation. This is a bold fucking move, something only a real pro, or an imbecile with nothing to lose would attempt. Take a manual transmission in fifth gear, slam it into first, feel the car shudder as you let go of the gas and the engine scrambles to right itself. That’s what I do. 60 to 0. Let’s hope she doesn’t notice the shift. Second gear now, and I lay it on, maybe a little thick. I conjure the fumbler, body language suggesting that I’m not even sure what I’m doing, that I just had to talk to her, something out of my control, something like fate has forced me to interrupt her conversation.

“Hey, so my friends are forcing me to leave and go to some other spot..”

Slow down, Slow down, Slow down. Let the nerves take over.

“but I thought you were super cute, and, uh…”

Uh, lets hope she’s buying this bullshit. I mean it’s true, I think she’s beautiful, totally adorable, and I do have to leave. I’d rather stay and find out what her favorite Morrissey song is, but I’ve got dipshit to tend to, and a bird in the hand, you know. I look at my shoes a couple times, using my nerves to conduct my performance, and continue.

“uh, I’d like to get coffee sometime? A coffee date?”

“Sure, take my number.”

HOLY SHIT. I am killing it tonight! I take her number, double check that it’s secured in my phone and I’m off to find Jessica, and be out. I tell my boy that I got the number. That I used his I NEVER DO THIS street pickup game. It’s October and I’m glowing like a kid at Christmas. Now, where is Jessica, I’ve got to find her and get out of here without Ashley seeing. This takes forever. With these young girls it’s never about the sex. She wants to stay and socialize more. SHIT. I give her another ten, which turns into twenty, into thirty. I stay undetected by Ashley, I hope, not that it matters. Finally I pry dipshit away from the Gucci loafer guys, guys she knows from Monaco or some place like that. We get into a cab and start necking.