From the Mouths of Babes

So, it is Thanksgiving weekend and my only invitation for the weekend was to go to my ex-boyfriend's estate in the Hamptons. He is a 40-something year old tycoon with two ex-wives, three children, and one very hot girlfriend that he has been dating for about a year. I don't even seem to rate on the "hot-o-meter" to these people, so no one - including the current girlfriend (who is with her own parents for the holiday) seems to care that I am spending four days in the country with the Tycoon, children, and full staff of maids, nannies, and a chef. Clearly, I am not viewed as a threat - just more of a table filler and entertainment for the kids. However, I don't really mind how I am viewed....because spending four luxurious days lounging at an impeccably decorated $25 million dollar estate certainly beats staying at home, alone - and I just happen to find my ex-boyfriend hysterical. He was a nightmare when I was dating him, but he has been a terrific ex. A sort of Jimmy Carter of ex-boyfriends.

On Friday night, all of the boys in the house are in the library watching a scary movie and so six-year old Lucie and I are in the den watching "Hannah Montana." I am quietly realizing that both of the New York Rangers that had taken my number had actually not called me. Scottie from Alaska has thrown out the lame Sunday night football offer and never called back with a follow up offer and baby faced Ryan had never even called at all. Out of sheer curiosity, I convince Lucie to let me change the channel to the Rangers vs. the Florida Panthers game to see if I can read into anything on their faces as they skate by. Lucie - by far, the smartest and savviest six-year old I have ever met in my life realized that I had either lost my mind or that I needed to explain how ice hockey could possibly compare to watching Miley Cyrus. I admitted - due to lack of having any good girlfriends to talk to at that very moment that I think I have a little crush on numbers "44" and "19"....and that she needed to look closely at the television and tell me which was the better one. She squinted her eyes at the T.V. and complained that they were going a bit too fast and finally decided that I should not go for either one. "Why?" I asked. She looked totally irritated and said that I should be going for "Number 1." However, there was no "1" on the Rangers. She then looked at me as if I was an idiot and told me to find another team then. God, she is good. Children from Manhattan are really scary. But I get it. I really need to find a number one. Who knew that I was watching hockey with a four-foot tall philosopher?

Coincidentally an hour after the game, Ryan sent me a text asking how my Thanksgiving was. I looked over at Lucie and told her that number 44 has just texted me and she told me to ignore him - because "it will make him wonder." Seriously, I wasn't kidding when I said children from Manhattan are freakishly good - but you know what? I'm taking the kid's advice. Number 44 can just sit and wait.

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.