tales of a girl in the city

avril 24, 2004

Who's That Girl?

What is it with you men.

Since most of you have been reading for awhile, there's no need for me to remind you that it has been a long, lonely North Pole-caliber winter. I mean, we can be honest here. I don't know about you, but for me the real low point was when I got in a fight with my own breasts. Which were starting to speak to me in various dialects. That was bad. It was a cry for help. An odd (yet still, obviously, endearing and hot) cry for help.

In any case, we can all agree that when the only thing happening south of your neck, is that your boobs are having imaginary conversations with you in accented English, it is fair to say you've hit a low.

And it is also fair to say that the cast of male characters we've encountered during our adventures here in NYC has been entirely useless when it came to helping us get out of this slump. They have resisted The Fantastic Charlize Theron Make-Up Phase I went through in January. They've done nothing to aid my attempts to hook up with them meaninglessly (Unicorn, that means you). And the rest of the men I happen to have encountered in the recent past have proven themselves to be dishonest (M), or otherwise crazy.

SO that is why I find it fucking hilarious that, now that I've met someone and have no interest in meeting anyone else, every straight man in Manhattan suddenly wants to date me.

You know those shots in music videos where the hot star singer is walking down the street and all the men she passes stop, turn, take off their shades and shake their heads in a sort of mystified-at-how-hot-she-is way? I am now The Hot Star Singer.

Subway platforms are like nightclubs lately. I'm not kidding. I'm actually nervous to go to the grocery store because I think there might be some sort of riot.

Additional evidence: While getting my hair colored the other day, with my head covered in yellow glop and aluminum foil, and my neck bent at an awkward angle above a sink, one of the other (straight, cute) stylists actually made a beeline over to me to say, "You're really beautiful by the way. When you came in it was was like *makes popping noise accompanied by little flashy hand gesture*. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

What. Is. Going. ON?

Boys. You're so weird. Why are you weird like this? Explain.