So I'm pretty sure...

I'm starting to write actual content for a start-up called Make It In the City, and I'm using my Tumblr. So please continue reading here!

No!

Me: He just moved into his new place... I'd kinda like to see it.
Jason: Or at least the ceiling. Am I right?

The users win!

This popped up on my facebook homepage today...

"Don't Waste My Time"

You're callin',
You're talkin',
You're tryin',
Tryin' to get in.
But it's over, it's over, it's over,
Friend
*
Don't waste your time trying to fix it,
So save your breath, don't waste your song.
On me, on me..
Don't waste your time.
*
But it's over, it's over, it's over my friend
Don't waste my time.

In other news.

So, aside from the trauma of the Ex, the party was sufficiently fun! There was a magician there who came over and did card tricks for us... He asked me, "Do you like magicians?" I replied, "Not particularly, but I slept with one about a month ago." Jason nearly spit his drink out. The magician replied, "Really? You're kidding! Shut up!" I said yes. We talked a bit more and it turns out he graduated from the same high school, and junior high school. Talk about a small world.

And in addition to meeting Ashlea Halpern and Allison Williams, I also got to meet Kate Lowenstein, one of the senior features editors at TONY. For a TONY geek (whore?) like myself, it was pretty exciting.

I also met an actress, who's one of the 'singles' in the issue, named Emily, who was an absolute sweetheart! And she's much cuter than her picture portrays - so any guys out there, email her! And Rob asked #17 how many emails she's gotten so far - over 100!

"I really hoped you wouldn't be here."

Once upon a time there was a girl who was pursued by a very eligible bachelor. Turns out this bachelor didn’t really have time for her – he wouldn’t tell her this and kept her on a very long leash. Around New Years, the girl got sick of this treatment and stopped replying to his text messages and emails. Admittedly, the girl has been incredibly upset over this ever since.

Last night was Time Out New York’s “Singles Party”… in honor of Valentine’s Day and their yearly singles issue. I had never been before, but I gathered my closest [guy] friends and off we went (or off they were dragged). We arrived at Poisson Rouge on Bleecker and Thompson, got past the velvet ropes and got ready to get our “chat” on. We snagged a cozy velvet bench in one corner and surveyed the crowd. Jason, being the gentleman that he is, bought my first drink [Hoegaarden] and so the intoxication began. While surveying the crowd I ran into Rob, a web developer from Time Out, who I’d had a semi-awkward date with the night before. I introduced him to my friends and went to survey the crowd up close. I also saw Alex, a guy I’d gone out with two nights prior to the party. I avoided talking to him – though I’m not quite sure why, he WAS a nice guy.

During my second Hoegarden, I looked towards to the door and saw my Ex entering. I’m not even sure I can call him my Ex but for the sake of simplicity here, I will. I made a decision: I would not acknowledge him, unless, of course, he acknowledged me. Jason convinced me to go talk to who we deemed “Tall Guy” who was currently being spoken to (a very broad term since she wasn’t really saying much) by a girl who couldn’t have been taller than 4’10”. Thanks to my 2 inch heels, I was measuring up to 5’10” that night. He was walking in one direction, and I tapped his arm and prepared myself to make conversation. I think this was the first time I’ve ever done this, and it went surprisingly well. Jason bumped past me, winking and giving me a nod of approval. All was well until my phone buzzed and I looked down at a text from the Ex. It read: “I see you! You’re talking to a tall guy! How are you?!”

I rolled my eyes and replied, “Why don’t you come over and find out?” and turned back to my Peruvian God and smiled. For economical reasons, I moved from the $7 Hoegaarden onto a more recession-friendly $3 vodka & soda during the night. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol to begin with – but vodka goes right through me. I looked down at my phone again and saw a text from the Ex saying, “I can’t! Tall guy! I feel bad interrupting.” I went to the bathroom and was met by the Peruvian God just outside, where we ended up kissing. I don’t even remember how it happened – he was a good kisser though.

In the next hour though, I ran into the Ex, also right outside the bathroom, and told him, “I really hoped you wouldn’t be here.” He looked disappointed. Good. He told me that he had thought of me recently when he saw my email address pop up in his address book. I’m sure. What else was said was hazy, but I remember that he told me he had moved into his new apartment finally; I told him that I’d gotten laid off, he frowned again to show sympathy. I saw the Peruvian God once more after that – but all my attention was, unfortunately, focused on the Ex. Jason came up to me around then, he had found his favorite flavor at the party: short & skinny Asian-American. I said, “Jason, this is Alex**.”

He looked at Alex and replied, “OH! So you’re fucking Alex!”

The Ex looked a little stunned. I covered my mouth to hide my laughter. Hey, I was 4 drinks in already. The Ex introduced me to Ashlae Halpern – an editor at TONY who put together the singles issue – and Allison Williams – another editor at TONY that I had corresponded with several times before. A little while later, Jason came back over and said he was leaving with his flavor of the week, and hugged me, telling me to go back to the tall guy. But me being intoxicated and liking a little cyanide to my cocktail, I stayed and talked to the Ex. Eventually I got my jacket and made my way out. I asked the Ex to come with me, but he said he had to stay to drive people home (he doesn’t drink, so he was sober). I don’t remember leaving, but obviously I did though I forgot to get a gift bag. I used this as an excuse to text the Ex and ask him to get me a gift bag. During my cab ride home, I texted him, “I wish you weren’t such a player.”

I know, I know. I should not have texted him that. I should really be banned from texting when I am inebriated.

When I got home, I cried. Not too much, just a little. It was a drunken cry, but it was needed. He didn’t reply right away to my text, which only made me feel worse. I had opened up too much again and he had free reign again to screw with me any way he pleased. I didn’t kiss him though at any point during the night; that’s good, right? I called Jason and he said to forget about the Ex, that I was too good for him, and that I shouldn’t be wasting my time crying over him. Before I went to sleep, Jason caught me on Google chat and told me again not to cry, that he wasn’t worth it. To take a direct quote from Jason, “He’s old and busted. Find new hotness! You have hot eyes. For fucksake woman. Stop!” What a good wingman. (Unfortunately he ended up getting turned down by his Flavor of the Week and went home.)

Nevertheless, I went to sleep, still crying a bit. I woke up around 5:30 and looked at my phone. There were two texts from him: “Player? Silly talk. I’ll grab you a goodie bag!” and “Still up, slacker?” at 1:45am. Calling each other slackers was an inside joke with us - don't ask. Even though it was obvious that, no, I was not in fact awake at 1:45am, I texted him back saying so.

I’m wondering now. If he does contact me again, I don’t know if I’ll be ready to let him back in. SHOULD I let him back in? Does he deserve a second chance? I doubt he’d realize that he was even getting a second chance. If I did let him back into my life, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to move forward (into a friendship, or whatever else) with him unless I tell him how much he hurt me. Why would I do that though? Would that be letting him not too much?

This is going to sound incredibly lame, but is he the Mr. Big to my inner-Carrie? I don’t mean in the sense that I’m going to marry him, only in the way that he could be that guy that I go back to and possibly get hurt by. Ugh, I can’t believe I just made that Sex and the City reference – honestly, it sickens me. I know I am NOT Carrie Bradshaw, let me assure you.

What’d you guys think?

**The Ex's name has been changed.

Talk about scary.

I had an interview at a boutique PR firm. I was really excited to enter the world of "power-bitches," I even bought a power-bitch suit on Friday. I looked good. I looked really hot. I put together a folder of programs I've designed, things I've written, recommendation letters, and my resume. My interview lasted about 3 minutes - if that. My dreams of entering the "power-bitch" world of PR were killed in 3 minutes as well. Read on:

She was on a phone call when I got there and there were three other young girls working there and her phone conversation went over, and then she had 'meetings' with each of her girls - asking what they were doing today. Then she went off on one of them, "You haven't done this yet? What'd you mean? Yes, you said you'd do it Monday and it IS Monday! I gave you this because she was flooded with work with the intent that you'd get it done right away! THIS is why I don't hire people right out of college! You think you're better than you are! You have one week to prove yourself to me. God!"

Then, 20 minutes late, I was brought to the back where her desk is, and I gave her my resume, reference letters, and writing examples. Then first thing she said was:

"Your resume means nothing to me. I only care whether or not you can do the job." OKAY. Next, "So what makes you ready to do this job? What that you did as a box office/finance associate at your last job makes you right for this? You can use Photoshop, right? You didn't use it at Boneau/Bryan-Brown? Then how'd you learn it? Okay, well I'll have to give you a Photoshop test before you leave. Okay, so what have you done? Have you ever pitched something? Do you know how to write a pitch? THIS [a letter from my folder] is a really poorly written pitch, I don't know who would OK that. Why do you think you can skip the step of assistant in PR and go right to being a junior publicist? (Um, because you were advertising for it, I applied, and you called and said you think I'd be a right fit?) Do you have relationships with any of the major newspapers? Thank you for coming in, sorry for wasting your time."

Whoa. I am shocked, and awed. And applying for other jobs.

Though my suit is hanging up neatly in my closet, waiting for it's next use for an interview that will hopefully last longer and go better.