mix-up

I thought it was so sweet that my uncle texted to tell me Happy Valentine’s Day.

He’s the most fabulous uncle ever, always ready with words of wisdom like, “Oh, dahlin, it is always easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” or “Never, never stand next to Little Richard. I still haven’t gotten his makeup out of my new white linen shirt.”

So I texted back to say I miss him and I love him and that I hoped he was having a happy Valentine’s Day, too.

“Do you know who this is?”

Strange. Until I realized that the first message was not from Uncle Jeffrey, but from just Jeffrey.

Crap. Just Jeffrey who orbited for a while three years ago, before I moved. Who more recently sent a text declaring that he regretted never asking me out when he had a chance. Who invariably uses too many exclamation points and is needy and desperate and likes Thomas Kincaid.

Who I never should have answered. Who I never should have accidentally told I love.

So I did what anyone would have done: I finished my snack, ignored texts for the rest of the afternoon, made out with my boyfriend, and wished my uncle a very happy Valentine’s Day.

~beatrix

to happy new years

“It might snow today,” Ted’s phone thinks it’s so clever, but it didn’t tell us anything I didn’t know when I opened the curtains or anything he didn’t notice when he went outside to alternate his parking.

2009 ended a lot better than it started.

The snowflakes were so fat, and everything was already covered.

We ate lunch at a restaurant I’d never noticed before, even though it‘s in my own neighborhood. It’s a carriage house with plaid table cloths, blue willow on the walls, and the most beautiful omelette I’ve ever seen. I hope we remember where it is. It appeared so suddenly in our path, I hope it’s real.

“Have you ever made a snow angel?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Oh. I’ve never done it. I’m from a warm place, and IF there’s snow, and IF you flop down in it, you just get all soggy.”

I was taking my gloves off to touch the snow because they were new and I didn’t want them to get spotty. He threw himself on the ground and scissored his arms and legs.

There really wasn’t that much snow, and the sand of the Central Park bocce ball court showed through. I laughed.

“I’ve made sand angels. . . plenty of times at the beach.”

At the zoo, Ted voiced over the chinstrap penguins. I had decided they were from New Jersey, and the performance was miles better than Jersey Shore. He said I could get a bufflehead and let it live in the bathtub. The crane was shivering in the snow. (I’m pretty sure he needed some very long skinny socks.) And the red panda hasn’t escaped, as I suspected, but was padding around in his fur like footie pyjamas.

I wore my new earmuffs, and they kept my ears toasty.

We warmed up and read in bed, set an alarm just in case, and woke up two hours later.

The party part was fine, but we decided we should have our own next year. If you have your own New Year’s Eve party, you don’t have to go outside. I think ours will be pyjama and breakfast themed.

~beatrix

p.s. loveharder.org

p.p.s. please be my friend on twitter because if not i don't want to play anymore. beatrix_here

i'm, like, so smart

“No, it’s that one,” he says, pointing at the knob on the right.

I drink tap water. Besides being free, it’s good for me and the environment. It doesn’t get carted all over the country, guzzling gas. It doesn’t spend ages in plastic bottles that can leach into the water itself. New York City tap water even tastes good-- better than most bottled water and even filtered water that’s been sitting in a plastic jug.

When I fill my glass from the tap, I run the water for a few seconds to clear any sediment that may have collected, and sometimes I feel the water to make sure it is running as cold as possible. Then I very briefly turn off the tap so that the water doesn’t get on the side of my glass before turning it back on to fill it up.

I’ve thought it all through. In fact, I’ve thought most things through. I’m actually quite smart. I haven’t been tested since I was 5, but I’m above the 95th percentile, IQ-wise. I was my high school’s valedictorian and didn’t pay tuition in college. I graduated summa cum laude, my GPA was a 3.905 (thanks to one B+ I got in Modern French Drama), and I’m Phi Beta Kappa.

And in much the same way that boys are always grabbing the back of my shirt assuming I’m going to walk into traffic, this boy is telling me which knob will produce cold water.

Geez. Why does everyone assume I’m so helplessly dumb?


~beatrix

are you starting to feel at home?

I count the months off on my fingers in the train on my way home. I’ve been here for one year and nine months.

And I’ve dated a lot of boys. I don’t have enough fingers to count them.

Tonight I went with Julianna to a party where we didn’t really know anyone.

“Have we been here before?” she asked me.
“I think so.”
“With Kris with a K. . .”

It is the same place-- there’s a canoe hanging above the bar.

Kris with a K was the first boy I hooked up with after moving to New York. Jules invited me to dinner with the two of them, we ended up at this bar with the canoe, and Jules said, “I’m going home. You’ll be fine, right?”

It seems like a million and one years ago. It was the day after the first iPhones came out. Kris with a K’s was the first one I’d ever seen. He let me zoom in and out on things.

He was truly beautiful. Skin deep. One of those people who lucks out with a serendipitous mix of ethnic traits. Fully aware of it, too.

I woke up in his bed. He needed to go train for a triathlon or something. Of course. I needed to go home. I was hungover, bedraggled, and couldn’t find my subway. I’d been in the city maybe two weeks. When I finally got on it, I was afraid I was going to hurl.

It was not a shining moment of a night. And now, one year and nine months later, I’m back at the same bar.

It’s happening a lot lately. Boys have smeared their memories all over this city. There’s the place where David started puking because it took him 29 years to realize he’s allergic to pine nuts, the tiny restaurant where I had grilled cheese with Cooper one day before I went to the airport, and the place Prince Charming would take me for pancakes. The bar where I met Sandeep? That’s the second first date I’ve had there. And I’ve had two first dates at a little wine bar and restaurant on the UES-- with Ravi and some guy whose name I’m 90% sure was either Mike or Bill. I keep walking by Gyan’s apartment, not on purpose at all.

I can’t remember all the names or faces, but this city is full of them. New York is not so big at all.

~beatrix