Happy VD Everybody. Here’s a gift from my mental illness to you.

This was supposed to go up for Valentine’s Day 2010, but I managed to procrastinate enough to where I decided I might as well wait until Valentine’s Day 2011.  (Yes, I realize that it is now Valentine’s Day 2013 — sorry you had to wait this long for so little payoff.)  I apologize, but I assure you, we’re open.  I’ve been working on some behind-the-scenes stuff to improve this site (stay tuned for some big changes) (that happened in 2011, no less), so I’m really excited to make this stuff happen.  So here’s a deluxe post that I started on the 15th of February, 2010…

In honor of one of the stupidest Hallmark Holidays (and I actually took a trip in 2011 to Punxsutawney, PA to see a groundhog see his shadow while surrounded by men in top hats, so I’m not unfamiliar with random-ass holidays), I am going to post a letter I sent to a woman I actually went on a date with before never hearing from her again.  Let me recount for you, in as close to a detailed recollection as I can muster, since I have never in my life gotten so drunk on a date.  It was kind of epic for that reason.

So this happened:

I got messaged by this young lady who was physically up my alley (Irish, redhead, green eyes), drinks like she’s breathing, sarcastic in the same way I am.  Naturally, we hit it off after a couple of toe-in-the-water messages became 4 hour instant messaging chats that seemed to end like those barf-inducing phone calls where it devolves into both people taking turns saying:  “No, you hang up.”  Come to think of it, there may have been a couple of those phone calls as well.  The biggest disappointment for me was that she had been in New York City for half of her life, so she sounded more like a New Yorker than a girl from Ireland.

So, finally, after about two weeks of this intensifying behavior, we were to meet up for dinner.  We decide to make the magic happen at a byob Indian restaurant in Murray Hill.  She was running a tad late while visiting her 96 year-old grandma in the hospital.  Said grandma is apparently Evan Dando’s landlord.  I should have asked my friend who is Evan Dando’s cousin if this was true.  Naturally, I get a drink at the closest bar while waiting for her.

She shows up with a bottle of wine and a big bottle of Le Fin Du Monde.  So, two hours later, we’ve polished off all of the booze and eaten some of the food, and we decide to walk down to St. Mark’s Place, because The Continental has that 5 shots of anything for $10 special.  Because right before the holidays (this was around Thanksgiving of 2008, and we even managed to have some winter weather), this kind of thing seems like a good idea.  So we get our five shots (each), and proceed to down them like it was a race, just so we could get the hell out of douche central station (ever since they stopped having live music and started catering to bro-dudes, that place went to hell, and it was a pretty sketchy dive to start with).  We then decided to hit up yet another bar on St. Mark’s Place.  I ordered us each a beer and a shot, and this is when the night got weird!

So, I remember we were still having great conversation, when she mentioned that Revolver was her favorite Beatles record.  And I remember telling her “mine too,” which has been true for many years, but I can’t remember if I mentioned the US version of Rubber Soul in the same breath, which is what I always say when asked about my favorite Beatles albums (if you don’t know the difference, look it up…when I was a kid before CDs, you could only get the US versions unless you knew what imports were, and at 5, I did not.  The CDs that eventually came out were all the original UK tracklistings (except Magical Mystery Tour), and a lot of people who grew up with the US versions freaked out).  Aside from that, I remember that I started to get super aggressive (for me) and suggested that she should kiss me, etc.  She was taken aback a bit, I’m guessing, because she suggested that I was being a little obnoxious or whatever, but I said that this approach worked for a good friend of mine, so I was going to try it out.  And she did kiss me, so there’s that.  What happened next, I’m still not completely sure of…

We get to the Astor Place subway stop and go underground.  She sprints through the turnstile and is on the other side of the fence, while I’m panicking because I can’t find my Metrocard.  I usually keep it in my front pants pocket, but it wasn’t there so I was freaking out.  Meanwhile, Mary starts saying things like “So, I’m sorry our date had to end like this.” And I was so confused, I just said “End like what?” Which she followed with “I suppose you hate me now.” And I’m standing there, more perplexed than I’ve ever been, yelling “End like what?  End like what?”  And suddenly, she was gone into the tunnel, and I was scratching my head like I was a monkey and it was my junk.  In a state of freakout, I texted her “Really?  My Metrocard?”  Because I couldn’t think of any other scenario that she would say those things unless she took it and then ran onto the subway to avoid discovery.

So I bought a single ride card, got on the L train to head back to Brooklyn in utter confusion and despair, stuck my hand in my jacket pocket, and wouldn’t you know it, my Metrocard was in my jacket pocket all along.  I must have moved it walking down the stairs but was too drunk to remember.  The next day, I was eating sushi with a friend and telling her all of these details, and she asked if I had attempted contact since then.  I said I hadn’t, but I should do that now…So I text her “Hey Mary, hope you got home safe, I’m a little fuzzy on how our date ended last night.”  SHe didn’t text me back.  I waited until Monday, and called her from work on my lunch break.  Left her a message.  She IM’ed me a little later, saying she saw that I called, but was at the hospital with her grandma, so she didn’t listen to the messages.  Nothing was really uncovered, and this was the last I heard from her until…one day, I get this email from OK Cupid which made me laugh hysterically….

4 or 5-Star Match!
Match Message from MaryMajella
18% Enemy 78% Friend 79% 
Sep. 11, 2009 – 4:50am 


Time to organize a date!

You and MaryMajella rated each other 4 or 5 stars. Congrats on the match. Reply to this message directly to contact MaryMajella.

We let you both know as a courtesy. You can turn this off if you’d like, on your settings page.


So, naturally, I had to say something.  Maybe I should have said something better than this:

sent to MaryMajella
Sep. 11, 2009 – 4:53am

ha ha ha. this is great. we both rated each other highly, AFTER drunkest date of my life ever.

hope you are well…

(match robot thingy says): I think you both like mazzy star, sushi, spoon, cake, and teenage fanclub.

Needless to say, we never did organize another date.

2 responses to “Happy VD Everybody. Here’s a gift from my mental illness to you.

  1. Here is an example of such a thought, “What would my friends think? What would my readers think? I am a horrible person.” I got out of this state by gaining clarity and recognizing that I needed to be honest with myself.

  2. Hey man- you are a pathetic loser! you were so shattered by one bad date that you had to write a blog about it? i bet you never have any second dates, because you seem like a dickless little boy! get some balls- just because your parents think you are special doesnt mean anyone else does! next time, when its a BYOB, try bringing booze yourself instead of expecting the girl to bring it all, you neutered little boy! do you use your own tears to jerk off at night? haha as long as this blog is online, you are advertising to the world that you are a fucking joke

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