Grab the raincoat....it is raining men!

Well you know the saying “when it rains…it pours”. Based on my weekend, it was more like “it’s raining men…hallelujah”. I had a very busy weekend picking up men (yeah and it was not even premeditated…gosh I love being a woman).

Friday night I met Josh and Jeff out at Red Lion in the village. They were there to meet up with some girl friends (not girlfriends). Anyway, the young crowd and lack of motivation made me turn in early for the night. Little did I know the chain of events this set into motion.

Because I went to bed early on a Friday night, I woke up early in the morning completely refreshed. I figured, since I am up, why don’t I hit the pool. I waked over to my gym (alright it is the NYC park district pool, but you cannot beat the $75 for a year membership deal). Since it was technically the “beginners” lap swim time, I jumped into the “fastest” lane. See the lanes are set up: (2) slow, (2) medium, (1) fast, and (1) fastest. If you are in the fast or fastest lanes, you better keep pace and only use the crawl/freestyle stroke. If you start pulling out the kickboard or breaststroke, you get mad angry looks and usually a cocky fast swimmer will tell you off for being in the wrong lane. Anyway I was sharing my lane with 3 other male swimmers (hurrah guys in Speedos). Typically the lane has 3-6 people all circling within it which is okay as long as everyone follows proper swim etiquette. The fastest person starts first, you wait till they have a lead you will not swim up on and then you go, repeat for the next person, etc. If done properly, you have everyone continuously swimming in one big counter-clockwise loop. Anyway I was resting with a very wholesome, cute, wiry/ripped man at the end of the lane. We started talking about how the lone “bad/slow swimmer” in our lane was driving us crazy. Basically the guy was mailman-ing (swerving side to side in the lane making it impossible to pass like the old lady driving down a street or mailman, etc). Well the mailman all of a sudden stopped in the middle of the lane and stood up to rest. The fastest (and coincidently the prick of the lane) didn’t stop swimming his route and rammed right into the guy. Well the cute guy and I doubled over in laughter which didn’t bode well with mailman. With his feelings (and probably gut) hurt, he changed to the next lane and continued to sulk for the next half hour.

Anyway, the cute swimmer said he was near the end of his work out but would love to keep talking with me. I also was at the prune point, so decided to end my workout as well. After a quick trip in the locker room, we met up at the ping pong tables. I actually got ready faster than him to which I explained “yeah seeing all the droopy naked women wandering around the locker room doesn’t entice me to linger”. He replied “really, because I feel the opposite about watching the droop old men”. Ah ha ha ha, check two. We walked to a neutral location (I was going north, him south, so we went east), he timidly asked for my phone number so he could swim with me again (he later admitted that he wanted to ask me out on a date but thought that would be too forward since we had both seen each other practically naked….Speedos don’t leave much to the imagination). Hurrah, I’ve still got it…oh and we are going out for skee-ball this week.

That night (Saturday), Bree came over to try out my bargain sangria mix. After eating our fruit serving for the day, we headed out to the Hell’s Kitchen bar “the snug”. We found a comfy bench and talked between ourselves about current issues, hot dog eating, blah blah blah. Well I guess two girls talking to each other while completely ignoring the sausage fest that was the bar, is a green light for guys to introduce themselves. First it was three guys who were in the “entertainment” industry even though they could not produce any credentials. The lone interesting fact was that one of the guys was from Basque, Spain. Now there is another real country between France and Spain (Andorra) and he claims that his territory is also a separate country. I guess France and Spain take turns claiming and invading this piece of land in the valley between two mountain regions. Because they are constantly (or were) under attack, they are known as terrorists because they like to blow things up. Anyway, I talked to some French and Spanish people at work here and they just shrug off his comments as “well yeah those guys are barbarians, but they are officially part of Spain whether they like it or not”.

Finally we rid ourselves of that threesome via curt words and complete lack of interest. Well within five minutes of their departure, another guy approached our table, sat in the chair across from us, and then turned his back on us to watch the TV. Okay the book “the game” talks of this technique – ignore the target – so Bree and I were on to his little ploy before it even began. Whu ha ha ha (evil all knowing laugh). When turned around to acknowledge us, I noticed he had quite the pretty boy face but his trim body was too muscular for my taste. Anyway, he asked us if these guys were our “boys”, and we didn’t know if he meant the three douche-bags who hit on us earlier or the Yankee game playing on the TV. I don’t recall what Bree and I said, but I am sure it was not inviting since we were in no mood to deal with another bad pick up? Like clockwork, his friend swooped in since the introduction should have been made. I blurted out “so are you the wing man” which stunned him for the moment. I guess insults are not the kryptonite that they usually are when the guy is wasted drunk. Poor Bree, she had to put up with him since she was nearer while I made small talk with PB. We were hitting dead ends until I saw that we had the same watch. Okay people tease me because I cannot tell time (I have a digital watch) and love the Velcro band. Anyway, I told him about our matching heart rate monitor/watches and he said “yeah it is great in the pool”. Ding ding ding, he said the magic word. Turns out he is a triathlete and offered to call me next time he goes on a training tour bike ride. Hurrah! In the mean time Bree had to put up with the drunk friend saying “yeah I wanted to come talk to you girls because you both looked plain and I like plain looking girls…blah blah blah verbal vomit”. Okay we look plain? Maybe because we both wore our hair in ponytails, were not blonde, and not wearing pastel pink? Whatever douche-bag. Bree had enough and started telling him how she was going to leave so she could be with her boyfriend….yeah the guy didn’t get the obvious direction to walk away! Bree quickly left the bar and I was on her heels (after giving PB my number incase he ever wants to give me a free meal or show me a new bike trail in the city…win win situation). Bree’s parting comments were “talking to those guys make me appreciate Ali more”….everyone together…awwwwww!

I’ll keep everyone posted on the “Lindsay takes on the NYC dating scene”. Wish me luck…shoot that means I have to start shaving my legs more frequently now. Damn!