My Little Black Book

I figure that I have about six weeks left of Summer and so I may as well make the most of it. It is my final few weeks to play, have fun, and date slightly inappropriate, but super charming guys before I can get back to dating the more "serious types" again in the Fall. I figure that most of Manhattan's finest stock is in the Hamptons until the end of August and as the Hamptons is not my scene...I think it is time to dip into my little black book or just hit the streets with Edith Piaf as my sidekick and see what we find.

Count Bambi never called and it has been a week, so we will consider that case closed. Plus, I have no respect for him. Snaggly Toothed Brit has been calling non-stop which I view as quite pathetic since I treated him so badly and he is still interested. I have no respect for him either. He is off the list.

The Street Performer is still around and Miss Milk Fat has probably gone back to where ever she came from, so we can put the Street Performer back in the "maybe" column. I would still actually like some more dance lessons. How fun would that be?

The 21-year old, Venezuelan, Adonis from Freya's wedding sent me an e-mail to let me know he will be in New York for a visit by Summer's end. He must have "Googled" me as I never gave him my e-mail. Either way, he is getting put in the "maybe" column as well. I will never get over those abs of his. Shockingly hot.

Who else? Ex-boyfriends...always a pond worth fishing in every once in a while (for fun, of course, nothing more) and there are three possibilities there. The Tycoon...a mid-40 something player with two ex-wives, three children, a black Amex card, and access to a private plane. He has a girlfriend, but he still calls me all the time. I have a feeling he is about to be re-released into the dating pool in the near future. If it happens in July or August, he goes in the "maybe" column and in September, he is a definite "no." I don't trust him at all even though he is a blast with a wicked sense of humor. Number two, is Harvard Oil guy....poor boy done good kind of thing whose fortune came recently as a result of the spike in oil prices. He is a little rough around the edges which is absurdly sexy. He is also married, but it is teetering on divorce. He is calling me as well. We will put him into the "no" column and see what happens in a year or so. Last one is the Viking...strapping, Danish stunner living in Copenhagen. You know what? Forget him for now as well. Copenhagen is not happening this late in the Summer.

Moving on...I am wildly obsessed with my neighbor - he is a scruffy bohemian artist whose work is in the Whitney and MoMa already and I don't even think he has a single grey hair yet. He is a literal genius, a pot stirrer, and a maverick. I can feel the sexual tension between us every time I am in my tiny little elevator with him. He actually asked me point blank one day if I wanted to f@#$ him and I said "yes".....what was I thinking? He then replied that he would like to f$#@ me too and that he was glad we had that out of the way. Alrighty then - what is the problem, you might ask? The usual. He has a girlfriend. So, I am waiting patiently for the perfect moment - which for me would include the simultaneous break-up of his current relationship coupled with his moving out of the building. Who wants either an attached man or a fling with someone who lives in your same building for when it inevitably ends? Awkward - although in reality, the chances of those events actually taking place are pretty close to zero, so I regretfully put the Artist in the "no" category. Well, he is in the "no" category for real life, but a "yes" for my fantasy life!

There is a Slovakian Baron who is also an artist and a creative director for one of the top stationary firms in the world. He tries really hard to be overly artsy though. He isn't the real deal as an aristocrat like Bambi, nor is he a renown artist like my neighbor. I think he is just a bit of a Eastern European farm boy who decided to put a "quirky" label on himself and go with it for as far as that road would take him. There is something that isn't quite genuine or authentic about him that I can't quite put my finger on. He tries really, really hard from the funky "art guy" glasses to the disheveled hair that is clearly styled to look messy on purpose as opposed to messy hair as a result of a certain lifestyle. Plus, his nose looks like the head of a penis. We will put him in the "no" column based on that last detail alone.

And that is it....a grand tally of six definite "no's" and three "maybe's." Hmmm....not so good. It is definitely time to put "Plan C" in effect and call one of those matchmakers and re-stock the man pantry! Supply is low and demand is high.

Wedding Bell Hell

Freya's wedding went off without a hitch. Theo was crying his tender little eyes out staring at his pure as driven snow bride. Bernard was beaming with pride at his eldest daughter and her glorious match. Pippa was the most charming maid-of-honor ever and my Mom's right hand for organizing everything (thank God she was there) and Manon the Menace was perfecting her scowl behind a champagne flute. I suppose I can't remember the last time Manon had a boyfriend, so maybe weddings are difficult for her? Yet I have zero sympathy. This is my fifth wedding in the past twelve months and I am six years older than she is. If anyone should be sulking in a corner it is me, but I was too busy flirting my butt off with a college student to be bothered.

Adonis was far more difficult to land than I had originally thought. Once I knew his age, I honestly thought I had it in the bag. How could I not outfox the fox? It was "Game On" from the moment I entered the 16th century church in my Gucci silk dress and Blahniks. I smiled at him, then ignored him, then pretended to be caught looking and did the quick away glance thing, and ignored him some more. I sucked in my stomach, my posture was perfect, and I have my hair flicking down to a science at this point. After the church, I ignored him again but made sure to walk in front of him to show my also "down to a science" swishy hip walk. I waited for him to start to feel nervous and insecure at the reception before I made my first official contact. He did not appear as relieved as I had hoped when I walked within feet of him. Striking distance for him to make his move. He was totally cool about it - and made zero attempts in my direction, except to laugh with the guy next to him about something. Perhaps I had made him wait too long or not long enough? My timing was obviously not "down to a science" at this point.

There was nothing to do, but abort the mission and relaunch myself again.....which I did a few hours later to much greater success. Thanks to the legion's of Theo's fraternity brothers in attendance, it was easy to bide my time waiting for Adonis to be forced to make a move. His move was juvenile - but what would I expect? He asked if I wanted to smoke a cigarette in the woods. What were we? Twelve? He then proceeded to explain (almost blushing) that his parents don't know he occasionally smokes and so he would like to smoke somewhere away from the tent where they wouldn't see. Ah....got it. So off we go into the dark, creepy woods, with the band playing disco music in the background, and my $700 shoes sinking into the soft earth below at which point I just stopped him and called him out on it.

I told him that I knew he didn't smoke (nor do I for that matter) and if he wants to just kiss me, then just do it....and he did. Heaven....it was really amazing - yet I still couldn't fully concentrate on the fact that I had this obscenely hot co-ed all over me because my Blahniks were getting ruined. I then decided to drag him up to my Mom's house...which is supposedly off limits during the party, but I didn't care. Actually to be safe - we went into the attic because I thought my room would be a place where we could get discovered. Like any good college kid these days, he did have some pot on him and so we got our own party started in the attic on an old couch. Half a joint and just passing first base - we are interrupted by a steady stream of people charging up the narrow attic stairs.

Oh My God.....it was my Mom, Bernard, Adonis' parents, Dodie, and Manon. I guess Manon had told people that she saw us going into the woods and she gathered a "search party" to find us and they thought something bad had happened since they couldn't find us. Ummm....likely story, Manon. Anyhow, six people saw me in my bra and a shirtless Adonis (with six-pack abs, no less) and the half smoked joint. No one was laughing. My Mom was furious. Adonis' parents wanted to know who the drugs belonged to and of course, I took the fall. So, I was the bad one - preying on youngsters and plying them with drugs and alcohol. Me and Mary Kay LeTourneau!

Well, we know that wasn't the case - but still....I haven't felt like a teenager (in a bad way) since I was a freaking teenager. I was actually sent to my room - at 30-something! God knows what happened to Adonis. His Dad probably gave him a spanking and grounded him!

I could have sworn that was the only time the entire weekend that Manon seemed happy. At least I am off to Paris in 24 hours and I'd like to think this will all be forgotten, but like I said.....I definitely don't have the timing thing down to a science! Something to work on in the future for sure.

Cradle Robbing in Belgium

My trip to Europe is divided in three parts. Art Basel in Switzerland, my sister's wedding in Belgium, and my long weekend in Paris. My Mom is married to Bernard, a successful Belgian businessman. They live on a beautiful estate outside Antwerp and they speak to each other in Flemish all the time (which is very much like Dutch) - even though my Mom is British. They have three daughters - Freya, Manon, and Pippa. Freya is the serious one who never jokes and could quite possibly still be a virgin on her wedding day to Theo (who is quite adorable.) Manon is the "middle child" - with lots of complexes, baby fat, and evil lurking within her and Pippa is the much celebrated darling of the family. She does everything perfectly - and yet we don't hate her for it - because she is, well, perfect.

Although I'm quite sure that Freya had been given an unlimited budget for her wedding, knowing her....she scrimped on everything because she is quite the frugal one. She is also very practical and hates frills. She has no hair appointment, no nail appointment, and no make up artist coming. We are also have to sit through a 15-hour day without a single meal served because she thought the cost of catering is outrageous and we could just have "snacks" according to her. Incidentally, alcohol will be in full supply as Theo has invited practically every living member of his fraternity house to attend. The only reason that I mention this (besides hoping for sympathy) is also because when you have four girls in a family and the first one gets married...it sort of sets the stage for the other three. I am the oldest, so had we been living in Jane Austen Land - it would have been my turn first and it would have been spectacular...paving a wonderful road for the others to follow in. Yet - here I am having to watch Freya go first and also having to put protein bars in my purse so I can make it through the day without passing out simply because she insisted on becoming betrothed for pennies on the dollar, or centimes on the franc, or whatever. Cheaply. That is what I am trying to say.

Having met all of Freya, Manon, and Pippa's friends - I know for a fact that there would be no cute guys coming to the wedding. I was also not allowed to get my hair or nails done and upstage the bride-to-be, so I went to the rehearsal dinner more drab than fab. And lets just say now, that if I could have done the getting ready part over again, knowing what I know now - I would have.

To the right of me, at the rehearsal dinner (the one meal that was served in two days) was the most gorgeous man on the planet. Imagine, Antonio Banderas from Mambo Kings (when he was still young and cute - and unmarred by the likes of Melanie Griffths.) He was Theo's cousin from Venezuela. Theo's Aunt (whom I'd never met) married a Venezuelan man and they produced this Adonis, who was raised in Caracas. I had never known of his existence until that very second. He had piercing green eyes, floppy brown hair, and unbelievable bone structure. When I spoke, he stared at me with an intensity that made me keep forgetting what I was talking about halfway through each story. I thought I was going to melt into the chair if he gave me one more of his intense stares. Were all Latin Americans like this? He had no shame with the staring. It was sexy as Hell, to be perfectly honest.

Adonis was 6'4" with a perfect figure and a senior at some university somewhere (do we really care?) He was also 21. A mere, 14 or so years younger than myself. My second encounter with a lusty 21-year old in a week. What was going on and since when did I officially become a cougar? Well...I suppose I haven't become a cougar yet until something has happened - technically speaking. Adonis and I spoke during the entire three hour dinner to each other as we were probably the only two people (other than his Father...at the opposite end of the table) who didn't understand any of the speeches in Flemish.

Adonis' Mother, Freya, and Manon all shot me irritated glances throughout the dinner. Meanwhile, Adonis' Father, Pippa, my Aunt Dodie, and my Mom all gave amused, teasing, and approving looks.

Oh was it that obvious? Yes - I wanted a piece of the young, hot Venezuelan. So shoot me! Is this a potential boyfriend or future husband? Ummm....not the latter, but maybe that search is temporarily on hold while I am on vacation?

Andele, andele, arriba, arriba! I have one more day to make it happen.