Opposite Sex

"Boys and girls can't be friends," I calmly explain to her. "It's not your fault. Actually it has nothing to do with you," I continue.

She darts a glance at me as I see the uncomfortable astonishment wash over her face.

I have this theory, well it's actually a rule. Boys and girls can not be friends. I should qualify the previous statement with the caveat that this friendship cannot exist without sexual tension. As a girl you will read this and think of every guy in your life that maintains the posture of a friend, hoping to expose the flaws in my logic.

There are many reasons that boys and girls are not friends. Chief among them is the fact that guys and girls often don't have much in common. The following example will plainly illustrate these differences. I met a girl, who conveniently lives on 81st in between Neurotic and Ridiculous. Upon meeting her at the bar for drinks and a bite to eat, it becomes painfully obvious that I'm in for hours of tortured misery. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a title claiming, "I brought you something. This book changed my life, but I don't need it anymore." Skinny Bitch was far from Earth-shattering and I did everything I could to stifle my involuntary reaction - laugh. That one gesture, while nice, set the tone for the night. After an hour we had covered the following topics: Skinny Bitch, going to school at F.I.T., and the strained relationship that developed between her father and her. At the brink of insanity, I made up an excuse to leave and walk her back to her apartment. During the walk I was accused of thinking that her Yves Saint Laurent bag was a fake, which is comical because I didn't even know that people cared about things like that, let alone whether this girl would actually own one. All in all the night was awful, but all was not lost as I got sufficiently drunk. In retrospect, this was a gigantic waste of time because when I think about it, I would have been a lot more content sitting on my couch playing Fifa with my roommate.

As a guy I'm concerned with a handful of things, which don't include handbags, fashion, shopping and Jolly Ranchers bathed in Zima. I like spending my time slugging beers, talking about sports, and talking about girls (read, sex).

Now let's talk about the male who you consider to be a friend, who you think has no interest in you sexually. It's true when you hang out you both have fun. He provides the male perspective when you curse my gender. Most important, he has not yet tried to cross the line and cop a feel. Now ask yourself if you've ever been in his company while he's blackout drunk. The answer is probably not, because if he was that inebriated he would have tried to swap spit with you (everyone knows it doesn't really count if he gets denied on account of being belligerent). He is not your friend. He just thinks he can endure months and even years of the title hoping that you'll become weak and eventually cave in to his pithy sexual innuendos.

Granted there are exceptions to every rule, but this one tends to withstand the test of time.

Subway Girl

Dear Subway Girl,
I see you staring at me, even though I pretend to be studying the subway map. I'm flattered that when I test you and return the glance, you smile. I focus again on the subway advertisements and you fix your eyes back on me. I don't take offense to it, it makes my day and I probably should say something meaningless like, "You take this train too?" Then I'll be that guy! I'll settle for you scrutinizing the beauty marks on my face, and the nose to lip proportions that I exhibit. Maybe you aren't even looking at me like that, maybe you can't help but notice the dried toothpaste that's collected in the crease formed by my lips at the side of my mouth. That would explain a lot. It's too early in the morning to be over-analyzing these situations and I haven't even had my green tea yet.

Smitten,
S.A.

Mad Libs

"Men in New York City suck!" Drink a different beer at a different bar - rinse & repeat ad nauseam. I have empathy for your plight. I really do, because people fundamentally want to find a mate (it's instinctual). Unfortunately for you every guy plays some variation of the following Mad Libs game when you expose the reason you aren't worthy of his affection: You're good, but you're not (blank) enough. You're not smart enough, attractive enough, fit enough, wealthy enough, creative enough, active enough, sane enough, holy enough, liberal enough, etc.

It's terrible, but it's true. You're aware of the immense competition that Gotham breeds because you subscribe to Timeout New York and Cosmopolitan, convinced that the answers are scattered within those pages. Think of it as an admissions process to get into Harvard, where the institution has all of the leverage in the situation, because after all it's Harvard. Multiple candidates got 1600 on their SATs, graduated in the top of their high school class with a 4.0, were in student government, and played sports. So how do you set yourself apart? Aside from being a published author at the tender age of 13, it's extremely difficult to distinguish yourself. You are faced with two choices: 1) don't apply to Harvard, or 2) differentiate yourself. Same holds true with men in Manhattan.

Is it really that hard to comprehend that you don't physically match up to the girl next to you at the bar, who gets paid to look the way she does (and often times is half naked in those magazines that you worship)? We call that a model, and they are abound in this city. I take back my previous statement: It's not difficult. It's damn near impossible. It's sickening that you'll never be enough. Perhaps you can individuate yourself by having a positive attitude for a change and refrain from using the opening quote (even if everyone knows it couldn't be more fitting). Then again, there's always Match.com.

Ryan's Daughter

"I like the blog."
"Thanks for reading it."
I settle into my beer at the bar at approximately 3:20AM and wax philosophical with Catherine. She takes offense to the way I portray UES women in the blog, and is still flabbergasted that I'd take the time to read Skinny Bitch. On cue an UES girl, wearing a strapless dress, tugs on her sagging fabric to re-establish the appropriate cleavage and orders another drink. The vapid girl with the obligatory tattoo on the inside of her wrist (probably related to Kabbalah) begs, "Gary, I'll have another drink." She looks to Kate as Gary fixes her poison, "I don't really care. My Dad pays my credit card bill." Catherine looks at me and rolls her eyes and commences laughing. In a desperate attempt to prove that my sweeping generalizations don't hold water, Catherine explains that she's really smart - besides she graduated from UPenn. I just continued to verbally spar with Catherine until last call. I got the impression that Catherine fully understood that it would only be a matter of time until the ink dries on another post.

His & Hers

The sensitive subject of gift-giving and receiving. Your guide to important (but extremely insignificant) information to avoid pitfalls.

Guys: When she says she doesn't really care about a Hallmark Holiday, it means you better have flowers and dinner planned for Valentine's Day or be prepared to become reacquainted with Palmela Handerson, yet again. When she agrees to forgo exchanging gifts for a special occasion due to the mutual understanding that the economy is trying and your money would be better spent elsewhere, she's essentially failed to provide the following subtitles: I expect a gift - if only something small, you selfish moron. When she gets you an "I was thinking about you gift," she expects one in return and you groping her is hardly a gift. When you get her a personalized gift like a book and inscribe it or make her a mixed-tape, she thinks you are joking and is waiting for the "real gift."

Girls: When he says don't get him anything, it means don't get him anything because he isn't planning on getting her something. When he hears you agree to a "no-exchange" policy due to the economy, he looks to his lucky stars and thanks God that she finally "gets it." When she asks him what he wants and he says he doesn't know, it's because he doesn't have the heart to tell her he wants that new electronic gadget - which means he will be spending more time away from her. Oh, and he's not your Ken doll. Stop buying him clothes that you think he'd look good in. He's happy wearing his shirts from the 6th grade. He views every day as giving to you. So meaningless holidays, save Halloween, don't excite him. He considers each phone call, text, email a gift, because he could have been doing a handful of other things like playing video games, talking about sex, drinking beer, or all of the above - simultaneously(with his boys).

His & Hers

So you've watched Ryan Seacrest usher in the New Year, vowed to never smoke again, committed to your new gym routine, and this will be the year that you convince someone of the opposite (or same) sex that it was your ex that was all sorts of Tom Cruise crazy. Do yourself a favor and heed the S.A.'s advice.

Girls: No guy ever slept with you because you had a Chanel bag. He would actually prefer if you had a knock-off from Canal Street because then he wouldn't think you were such a money grubbing wench. He spends enough money on beer at the bar and he isn't ready to make contributions to your purse and shoe collection. At least have the decency to lie to him and tell him it's fake.

Guys: She is not impressed that you have the high score in Dungeons & Dragons, or that you logged more hours playing PS3 than you did sleeping last year. She really isn't stoked that you dominated your fantasy football league. Her thought is, if you want to play with yourself then enjoy playing with yourself because you seem to be good at it.