512. MORE THAN ATTRACTION

Siobhan and I are sitting in a wine bar. Despite almost a year elapsing since we got together last, she is still the same --- tall, slim, classy.

“So Gee, what is new?” she asks. “I moved,” I reply. “I know. I am so happy for you. It was so distressing that you were living way up there – and I know you think it was safe, but I didn’t like you living there. You were so isolated. But now – you are in a real New York neighborhood.”

I know what she means. But I find this funny. I had no issues with that Washington Heights neighborhood – plus I could afford it. But for the same reason I am glad I grew up brown in a homogenous state. I think living in two worlds, straddling two cultures, seeing both sides, gives you a different view of the world. And I like it. I like that I lived on the fringes, and now live in a “real New York neighborhood”. I like that I can go back and forth, that I don't have one rigid view of the world. That I can see and appreciate perspective, even if I don't agree - at least I understand.

She tells me about work and a co-worker who really disappointed her. It is amazing how much New Yorkers work. I am not saying that folks in other parts of the country are sitting around doing nothing, I am just saying that the pace and the competition in New York is brazen, it is survival of the fittest and I don’t know – you have got to be careful when you make friends at work. You really, really do. Because sometimes friends are frenemies.

“What about love?” I ask. She has her own version of Town and Country in her life. “I stopped talking to him. I just needed to. He sends me emails and texts and writes me all this shit I want to hear – but he doesn’t mean it. We don’t want the same thing. We just don’t," Siohban says.

Sounds familiar.

“And you? Please tell me you aren’t speaking to Town and Country,” she says. “I am working on his house.” “What?” she asks incredulously. “He is doing renovations. He has been all professional. There has been no sign of his penis.” She rolls her eyes and sips her wine. Ooo, she is NOT happy with me. “I don’t like him,” she finally says. “I know. No one does,” I reply. “And that doesn’t signal something for you?” she asks. She is right. I know she is right. My attraction to him has to be more than attraction.I just don't know what - and until I figure that out - I am stuck in this self-made quicksand, where Desi Girl slowly sinks.

511. WILL DO, GIRLY-GIRL

The following day I am exchanging text messages with Siobhan. We are trying to find some time to catch up. I don’t think I have seen her in months, and when I say months, I think it has been closer to a year. The only issue is that I am supposed to meet Town and Country to discuss this “writing” project.

Normally, I wouldn’t turn down the chance to see him, due to this ridiculous, unexplainable attraction I have to him. But after the months of not seeing Siobhan, I want to see her more than him. However, Town and Country doesn’t like to be dismissed. So I have to handle this very carefully.

Desi Girl: Hiya! How is your day? (I am hoping that an upbeat email is the way to proceed. I mean why can't I have a life, other clients or commitments? He is NOT my boyfriend).

Town and Country: Hey there. I have been meaning to reach out to you.

Uh-oh.

Desi Girl: Oh really why? (I can always hope that he is going to say something I want to hear).

Text from Town and Country: Sorry. Have to cancel tonight’s meeting. I am getting ready to leave for Boston now.

Desi Girl: Oh are you at the airport?

Town and Country: No, at home packing.

Desi Girl: Okay, safe travels. Text me when you are back and if you want to follow-up on the project, writing or house.

Town and Country: Will do girly-girl.

Ugh. I like it and don’t like it when he calls me girly-girl. It feels like a term of endearment.

510. I HAVE AN IDEA

I have a friend, actually two friends – they are a couple – and they are involved in politics in Minnesota. When I used to live there I was invited to a few fundraisers, one candidate even went on to be the Mayor of St. Paul, which I think is pretty cool. I am not particularly looking to come into contact with the rich and powerful, I barely notice famous people in New York. But it is great that these friends of mine are so passionate about civic change. I don’t think I am that passionate about anything.

Anyway, these same friends were involved in the Obama campaign a few years ago and they have marketing materials and Obama swag, including Obama skull caps. While I am not a skull cap type of gal, I am sure Town and Country would appreciate this.

I reach for my phone and send him a text:

Desi Girl: So I have something for you.

Immediately Town and Country writes: Oh really? What would that be?

He wishes!

Desi Girl: Not that. What I have can be mailed. Do you want me to send it to your house or office?

Town and Country: Now I am curious.

Desi Girl: Address please.

Town and Country: Home.

I set the phone aside and root through my office supplies, find a padded envelope, scribble a little note that says “enjoy”, and seal the package. I grab my purse, head to the post office, post the package and go home.

509. SURE, WHAT NIGHT?

I get home from the gym. I now have a guest pass to the 92nd Street Y, which isn't really the “Y” as in YMCA, but none the less it is a cultural and community center on the UES. I have toured all the gyms on the UES so I am going to have to make a decision soon on where to join and actually start paying for my gym membership. Something I will worry about later.

I hop into the shower, get dressed and eat some oatmeal and sit down at my desk.

There is an email from Town and Country: How are you today?

Desi Girl: Fine and you.

Immediately Town and Country writes back: Great.

Hhhmm. Normally he tells me how busy and stressed he is so I am not sure why he has time to talk today. He must want something. He must need something. There is no other reason he would write back to quickly.

Town and Country: I have an idea.

Desi Girl: Okay. What would that be? (Ugh. I don’t know what to think about his ambiguous comment).

Town and Country: I have a writing project I want to discuss with you.

Well he sure has caught my attention. And I don’t want to seem too excited by his implied suggestion. But my agent has told me that as a no one in the industry anything I can do to enhance my writing resume is a very good idea. She has told me that I need to be published in magazines or newspapers or something to get some leverage with the publishing houses. So I do wonder if he knows this and genuinely want to help me or if he knows that this would peak my interest, which it has.

Desi Girl: Okay. Happy to discuss. Did you want to send an email with details?

Town and Country: Might be easier to meet. Can you stop by my place later one night this week?

Because I am working to purge him from my system, meeting him sounds like a bad idea. But what if meeting him is one step closer to my writing goals and ambitions?

Desi Girl: Sure. What night?

508. JUST REPAIR MY LOO

Ugh. Getting this loo repaired is a ridiculous ordeal. The only upside is that I don’t have to pay for it and that the Super has finally swung into action. I mean, between his smoke breaks.  

There are three workers, none of whom seem to speak much less understand English. There is one hanging out in my bathroom (literally he is sitting on the tub ledge with his phone) and two are upstairs in the neighbor’s apartment. The neighbor has agreed to leave his key with the Super but expects the Super to leave the key with the office. Why I need to know these details is beyond me. I don’t want to be responsible for my neighbor’s key period.

Additionally, it is awkward to be in my own apartment. I don’t feel like I can work, make calls or watch the telly with an unknown man with non-existent English sitting 20 feet away. Good thing I drank my coffee and used the loo before the workers came. And since I don’t own a couch, I am not going to sit on my bed with a stranger in the apartment.

Ten minutes later the Super comes in. “We need your drain stopper,” he says to me and then barks something at the man in my bathroom. “Uhm, okay – well, will I get a drain stopper?” I ask as I watch the worker take the stopper out of my apartment and up the stairs. “Yea, yea, sure – let me take care of him first. I want to finish with him and then you. Can’t understand anything he says…” the Maltese Super mutters.

I find this so offensive on a few levels. One, I have watched “Americans” mock my parents for their accents while growing up in the heartland. So I think it is heartless and cruel for the Super to do this because (1) the Super is an immigrant from Malta and (2) my neighbor pays his salary and (3) isn’t this discrimination on some level? And holy moly what does the Super say about the rest of us? It is not like any of us WANT to have issues in our apartment. While I love living on the UES, and don’t miss that commute from Washington Heights – I do miss my former Super.