Requiem for a Dream

The Gods of Love must have taken some pity on me because Beyoncé did not show up for dinner with Count Bambi. They had dinner with "Beyoncé's people." Much better! Also, the reason that they are meeting with her and her people is because she is the star of the L'Oreal commercial they are shooting, not Jennifer Lopez. How could Bambi mix those two up? Were they just two incredibly hot, slightly dark, Americans with big booties to him...who were so easy to confuse? Was he a moron? I was starting to suspect he was.

In any case, Bambi spent yet another day cruising around Manhattan with some peons from L'Oreal instead of with me. He told me he thought I had to work during the day and so that is why he didn't call. Understandable I guess - but it wasn't the case. Perhaps stupidly, I had taken the rest of the week off in honor of his visit. When will I ever learn?

In true Jerk-o-Rama style, he was also busy at another L'Oreal dinner last night as well with Count Directeur Créatif's boss and he said he would call or text after dinner so we could meet up for drinks.

I couldn't stand another night of sitting home alone, dressed to impress, and getting let down again and so I called the one person who I knew would gladly take me out, appreciate me, and then willingly let me run off after dinner to drinks with Count Bambi.....Snaggle Tooth, of course!

Snaggles could hardly contain his excitement that I called and wanted to see him that very night. He had a group of buddies from his Masters program at Columbia who were having dinner at some Cuban hole in the wall and I was more than welcome to join. They were all informed that around 10 p.m. I would have to run off to see a "friend from France" and thus I somewhat rudely kept my phone on the table. I suppose by now, one can guess that a 10:00 p.m. phone call did not happen. Neither did an 11:00 or 12:00 call happen either. I might as well have just left my phone at home actually.

One of the students invited me to join them all after dinner at The Box....a swank new club in the Lower East Side with cabaret acts and a wildly interesting decor. With the amount of time and energy I had spent to get the way I looked last night...I was willing to go pretty much anywhere except home. My ego had been flushed down the toilet and heading to a nightclub with a group of international grad students seemed like fun. Snaggles was beyond happy and he slung his arm over my shoulders and I let him. I needed to be adored. He was the perfect guy at the perfect time.....as long as I could forget about those teeth for the time being.

We rolled into the The Box around 1:00 a.m., four guys, five girls, and Snaggle Tooth still holding me tight. It wasn't five minutes before I saw what could not be a mirage. Count Directeur Créatif was talking to a pack of tiny breasted French girls with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Snaggle Tooth followed my gaze and asked if those were the French people who had blown me off and I just nodded. Talk about awkward.

Directeur Créatif smiled, waved, and pointed to the other side of the room where Count Bambi and another bland French import were chatting up against a wall. I wasted no time storming right over there. Bambi lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw me, gave me a huge kiss in front of Snaggle Tooth (who I thought might go into cardiac arrest at that point), and asked me what took me so long!? He then showed me his cell phone where he had indeed sent me a text two hours earlier telling me to meet him at The Box. However, I never received the text. Maybe my phone doesn't allow incoming international text messages? How annoying! I supposed that I couldn't be mad as he really did try to get in touch with me. Right?

Bambi didn't believe it was truly a coincidence that of all the bars and clubs in New York that we would end up at the same one at the same time. It was a pretty crazy turn of events. Was that a sign? Were we really meant to be together? How could that not be a sign?

I nestled into Bambi's arms and all of the L'Oreal people came up to tell me how glad they were I came and how worried Bambi was about not getting to see me. We proceeded to their table near the front, an extra glass was ordered for me and a few bottles of champagne arrived. I saw Snaggle and his friends glaring at me from the bar area as if I was the biggest bitch on the planet and maybe I was...but if only they had any idea what I had to go through to get to that point?

We stayed until about 5 a.m. when we were about three sheets to the Moët & Chandon wind at that point. Bambi wanted to take me back to his hotel, but I wasn't having it. My apartment was in its glory days and would be seen....even if it would be seen by a rather drunk Bambi in the middle of the night...it would still be seen.

And no...the evening didn't go the way that you, me, and probably he imagined. He walked into my apartment, quickly found my bedroom, flopped onto the bed, and screamed. Edit Piaf was prancing all over his tiny little chest. He begged me to take her off of him. He said he couldn't stay in my room and luckily I have a guest bedroom as well - where Edith never goes, and so we retreated there. Apparently, he is deathly allergic to dogs. Why did I not know this before? I guess I never had Edith Piaf around any time that I was hanging out with Bambi. Hmmm....petit problème.

During our make-out session in my guest bedroom his eyes proceeded to get more and more red, he was breaking out in a rash, and his nose was running like a faucet. He then noticed that my guest bedroom - as well as my entire apartment was filled with flowers of every variety. And guess what? He is also allergic to flowers. I then carried several vases out of the room into the front hallway and opened the window for him, but not before he started to gasp. I am so not joking. He apparently also has asthma and he left his inhaler back at the hotel.

Talk about the most un-sexy evening ever. I walked him down to a cab around 6:00 a.m. A small, sputtering, snot nosed, bleary eyed, wheezing Count with itchy skin. Was he really what I had been dreaming of for the past couple of weeks? Maybe I had lost my mind? All I can say is that I am glad he was leaving in a taxi and not an ambulance...or was I?