50 First Dates
Ive come to realize that the best things in life make you sweat. #workhard #livyoung
Heart beating. Sweat dripping. Deep breathing.
Love. (and sex).
Whatever it is that makes your heart skip a beat --To remind you that yes, in fact you are alive - and human, mistakes included.
Much of this reminder has come thru love lessons, which remind me of life lessons …
no mistakes, just lessons, thru the men ive sweat with, and sweat because of.
Some memories make me laugh. Some make me cry. Sharing bit by bit. So - below is a manifesto of sorts. All in good fun, in the end because each has taught me more about myself, and people in general. What i want + don’t, in a man + in myself. I am unpeeling my layers, as i learn about others.
Short stories below. Names have been changed. And most grudges have been dropped.
And cognizant that there are 3 sides to every story - mine, his + the truth.
These are out of order. And out of sorts. Consume as you wish. Perhaps with a cocktail.
A leopard never changes its spots. We are who we are.
But there are certainly wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing.
An email to my mother, typed ferociously late night on my blackberry hiding under the covers:
Vail, CO. Early in the game. Fly out to see Beau at his famiIy house for New Years.
I step into this massive mountain cabin. Xmas decorations line the exterior and interior. Animal heads on the walls. I am the only jew. Do they want to wall mount me too? Blond haired trophy wives wearing winter white congregate in the kitchen drinking white wine. pinot noir for me - in my black leather pants, silk blouse and booties. Why fit in when you can stand out? A sinkful of wine bottles on ice graces the corner of the massive kitchen - each bottle emptied and replaced. No recycling in these Rockies. 25 minutes in everyone is red faced. The laughing gets louder, intoxicated howls echoing off the taxidermied walls. Oh and there is food! a massive selection spread across the regal wood dining table extending the full length of the room, adorned with renaissance-esque red velvet thrones. The menu closely resembles every treat recommended via Semi-Homemade by Sandra Lee for the perfect cocktail party. Andrew Cuomo would be proud. cream cheese crab dip with fritos and triscuits, mini sweet and sour meatballs, cocktail weiners soaked in bbq sauce, puff pastry wrapped brie with bubbling brown sugar, water chestnuts adorned with liverwurst and bacon, proscuitto wrapped melon on tooth pics, baby tomato/mozzarella skewers...and for dessert, a crowd favorite: Ferraro Rocher chocolates and candy canes. Conversation drifted from guns to wolf dogs to plans for new years eve in Vail Village. However, I will be at the family home eating oysters, tenderloin, and the pate of pheasant that Beau shot last year.
Shalom for now, Olivia
**the following morning, said mom was supposed to cook new years eve for 20 friends. Too much white wine interfered. So she sat on a kitchen stool and directed me as i plowed thru her menu, recipe by recipe, to complete her culinary tasks. After i was done with my chores, i called my mom, changed my flight, and got the hell out - just in time to start the new year, on my terms, back in new york city.
07/ 15 / 2018
Hot Aussie. J-Date. Skinny Jeans. Entrepreneur.
Sunday night eating sardines or JG Melon no bun with my hands. Text alert - “if you’re still free for a drink tonight, lets do it.” non committal - fit me in, but i was bored. reply, “lets go. Dante on MacDougal. See you in 30.” Tall sexy dark features swoops in like a tsunami with fast moves + fast words. Over educated + Over committed. Rushed to meet on a random Sunday as i sipped my mezcal ever so slowly, and spoke even slower in hopes he might slow down. MIND BLOWN. I used to be him. Rushing to fit it all in. searching. Emotionally unavailable, unwilling to commit to love, yet completely over committed in life. Speeding thru autopilot to prove to myself i could do everything just enough, without digging deeper into anything at all. Because i wasn’t willing to dig into myself. It was phenomenal to see ME --- in real time. Deep conversation and a quick make out in front of mermaid inn, before he rushed off to Mission Chinese — Bold move considering Mermaid’s happy hour line floods to houston street. but there was chemistry, so i went with it. We had dinner once more at via carota. My choice. Branzino for two, verde salad, roast carrots. He anxiously watched his phone in anticipation of a deal closing. It did. We celebrated with another makeout in the park. But his aggressive hands around my neck felt too freaky too late on a tuesday. Dude, i don’t know how they do down under but choking is a lot to ask + your hyper hands can’t be trusted. Aussie, out.
I had this thing for hedgefund guys. It was the power, the money, and their complete utter lack of care for anything in life - besides themselves that drew me in. Sick, i know. but—i could change them, i could win them, i could help them invest in resturant side hustles, and show them how to open their hearts. Funny, right? I met hedgefund during a hurricane. A minor one, en route sunday eve. Random nolita brunch, overpriced avocado toast + cous cous towers with friends + some guy who knew numbers. Nothing epic, at all. I don’t actually think we spoke because he was busy talking shop - typical. Afterwards, we strolled thru soho as the city emptied to prepare for the storm. Silly me, i went along to hedgefund’s new apartment to put away his patio furniture. Light wind + rain trickled down as we hung out on the couch and talked about nutella. And then he came at me - aggressively assuming i was DTF - as if hurricanes grant that permission. I felt like a prisoner in his palatial pool furniture filled flat as the thunder got louder. So i left. I ran home - just about 7 blocks, in the hurricane. He thought i was kidding when i said i was leaving. I wasnt. If i couldnt save him, i could certainly save me. But really Olivia, what did you think was going to happen? No mistakes. Just lessons.
More to come. Comment below.