Thursday, April 15, 2010


Three days have elapsed since I left a voicemail for Reindeer. I am eating my fourth samosa (from Post 24),  devilish Indian pastries stuffed with potatoes, peas and spices then deep-fried into a divine appetizer. I think Mom adds cocaine to them. They are so addicting I honestly believe I could seduce Napolean-esque dictators and take over their small nations.

The lack of Reindeer response is making me glum, depressed and obsessed with wonder. Between bites of samosas I wonder if he is dating someone else. Part of my neurosis is that I rarely meet men I like emotionally, intellectually and physically. I like educated, smart men who out-weigh me, out-height me and make me laugh. Is that asking for too much? I don’t think so.

I settle in fron of the TV when my phone rings. I am a sad and pathetic woman who becomes a giddy, ECSTATIC school girl. “Is it too late to call you in the State of Lakes?” he asks. Minnesota (according to the license plates) is the Land of 10,000 Lakes. I am rather impressed that he knows that. Until I came along, he had not met anyone from Minnesota. Nor has he ever been to the Midwest. “No, it is fine,” I reply. “Are you getting lots of home cooked meals?” Reindeer asks. “Yes. I ate samosas for dinner.”

In addition to being a foodie, Reindeer is a juice snob. He won’t drink anything made by Tropicana or Minute Maid and has some pimped out juicer. “When will I be getting my samosas?” Reindeer asks. From his tone I can tell I captured his interest. If he is dating someone else, her mother’s samosas are not as good as my mother’s! “Well, when I get to New York, we’ll have to make a plan.” WOW! That was very clever on my part, to set up the next meeting without sounding needy or desperate. “When do you come back?” Reindeer asks. “I will be in your neighborhood for a friend’s party,” I reply. This is no lie; my friend Abby’s daughter is turning one. “How will you come?” Reindeer asks. “Metro North,” I reply casually, like I go to Westchester County all the time.

“You should come up earlier and we can spend some time,” Reindeer suggests. I pause, to make it seem like I am thinking. “Oh, that might be nice,” I reply as if his suggestion was so novel and unexpected, when really I am thinking, “fin-a-freaking-ly!” “Where will you get Metro North?” Reindeer asks. “Harlem,” I reply. “I don’t think that sounds safe. I think the Fordham stop is better.”

This is touching and sweet. He’s worried about me. And I decide to let him be the man and feel protective. “That does sound safer. I’ll do what you suggest,” I reply. “Yes, I think that is best,” Reindeer replies.

Total disclosure: Harlem is safe. I roam around 125th Street all the time.


Samosas for One said...

Then what happened? Did you respond to his second profile too?! :)

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Samosas for One ... what a brilliant idea ... I should have ... instead ... you'll see what I did ...