I Will Be Alone. Forever.

One Saturday evening, I'm on my way to visit a friend at Indochine, where she works. I'm walking there, somewhat dressed up, as I may be going to a birthday party later and don't want to stop home to change. Perhaps it was a touch early in the East Village for thigh-high stockings, 5 inch heels, a mink coat, and red lips. Guys feel the need to comment and stare as usual, as I concentrate on my Blackberry whilst traversing the sidewalk at my elevated height of 6'4".

One of them bids adieu to his friends and scurries to catch up and walk next to me. I hate when guys do that. Particularly because they are generally disgusting. I offer non-commital, sarcastic responses to his attempts at witty repartee, still refusing to look up from my bbm.

Eventually, he takes off his furry cap and announces that I have to let him walk me where I'm going because it's his birthday. Of course, I look up at that moment to ensure that he has a stellar view of my serious eye-roll at his lame offense. At this point, I realize that not only is he tall (6'3") with a charming accent (British) but he is also apparently a good-looking dude. I qualify this statement with apparent for two reasons: 1. He sincerely believes he is. 2. I think I agree, but it is also night-time, and my blurry near-sightedness tends to skew towards the favorable. Regardless, I was suddenly interested and immediately more charming. We have a lovely walk, covering many pertinent topics, such as occupation (finance, obviously,) residence (SoHo,) poetry (Robert Frost,) and the fact that we are both convinced that we have quite a way with words. He is, at times, a bit condescending and cocky, but, to be fair, I do like a bit of asshole in my guy, and he does immediately retract all condescending statements after my look of death and sardonic reply.

He makes several remarks about "next time," looking at me expectantly, which I choose to gloss over. I'm sorry. Be direct. Don't make me do your work for you. He also asks what I'm doing that night. "Dinner and a birthday party. Obviously not yours." I laugh.

He drops me off across the street from the restaurant. Yes, he thinks he's dropping me off at a date, because, you know, I'm like really popular and super pretty and every guy is in love with me. He gives me a hug. Pause. "Well, it was lovely to meet you." Pause. "You too, thanks for walking me to dinner." Laugh. "Yeah. Well, I guess I will see you soon, then?" Pause. Expectant look. "Yeah, sounds good." Laugh. Kiss on the cheek. Waltz across the street, into Indochine.

W. T. F.

I seriously have a problem. I will be alone forever.

Shut up, cats.