Sober Dating (Part 1)

Disclaimer: The following is neither intended to promote temperance (you do you!), nor is it intended to speak to anyone else's experiences except my own.  Just be happy and healthy - whatever that mean to you.

According to an app on my phone, I gave up drinking 18.48 days ago.  It has, for me personally, been a beautiful experience thus far.  I do not consider myself an alcoholic.  I have always been perfectly content not to imbibe alcohol.  That said, when alcohol is presented in social situations (and as a New Yorker, that is often), I have always had a tendency to drink to excess.  It was a point of pride, however misguided, during my college years.  In recent years (my thirties), this habit became worse, questionable decisions were made, and beautiful days were spent nursing hangovers.

So, it seemed easiest for me to just quit altogether.  Within days, I noticed a transformation.  

I have more energy and focus than I can ever remember having in my adult life.  I tackle my considerable anxieties head on; for instance, I am no longer afraid to ask to join meetings or projects at work.  I show up to work ready to take care of business.  I am doing better in grad school than I have before and feel proud of that.  My skin has a slight glow, my eyes are clear and while Michelle Pfeiffer I am not, I have cheekbones for the first time in memory.

I am happier and despite a persistent cough, feel good every day.

Again, this reflects no one's experience except my own, but I am a better version of myself.  What's not to love about that?

Well, it has made me dread one thing: dating sober.

In my thirties, I have had exactly two sober first dates.  

The first was with a minister from Germany, who I connected with on Tinder (anything can happen, folks).  I just assumed he didn't drink, but am actually not sure whether that was the case or not.  Our two dates were anything but festive (although that's not necessarily meant to diminish them).  The second meeting with this minister took place on one of the coldest days in New York history.  He took me to see a movie about the rise of fundamentalism in Mali, then lectured me when I said that I didn't know much about the subject matter.  After it ended, he wanted to walk along black ice in Central Park after dark, in howling winds.  I was relieved when we finally parted ways on a subway platform and skipped home happily.  Two weeks later he texted me that following an emotional decision, he had reunited with his ex-girlfriend.  None of my friends believed she was real.  

The second first date was with the most conventionally attractive person I have ever so much as flirted with.  He perhaps wasn't used to having to make much of an effort.  He had me meet him on a street corner, then had no idea what he wanted to do.  I suggested a bar nearby (a tried and true date spot in the past), but to my embarrassment, it was too early.  So we stopped in the nearest brunch spot we came across (he ordered first and declined mimosas, so I followed).  There was no spark (physical, intellectual, creative or otherwise) between us.  A long walk followed, but I counted the minutes until I could find a bathroom, then meet up with a friend.  We texted a few times, but he then spent five weeks touring Japan with his ex-girlfriend, according to Instagram.  While perusing his Instagram feed, I also noticed an eight-pack and am simply not about that life (doing crunches).

Both interesting and attractive fellows, but overall: not an ideal track record.

There are practical considerations when dating sober.  A few special first dates over the years have lasted twelve hours (once at the same bar I tried to revisit above): talking excitedly, exchanging furtive glances and grazing hands into the early hours.  I am willing to believe that sense of intoxication exists without well ... intoxication, but the question is where?   How long can you really spend at coffee shops before your table is circled by the Wi-Fi hungry masses?   And the lighting in those places?  Absolutely no sense of intrigue!   

But, the reality of the situation is that I would like to have romantic love in my life and dating is probably necessary in order to do so.  And so, I trudge onwards.  There will be dispatches to come from my misadventures in sober dating! 

The Lost Art of Love Letters

Source here

The other day, I stumbled upon, and love, this excerpt of a love letter between Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West (who also happened to be her muse in writing Orlando):

"I sincerely hope I’ll never fathom you. You’re mystical, serene, intriguing; you enclose such charm within you. The lustre of your presence bewitches me. I like the unreality of your mind; the whole thing is very splendid and voluptuous and absurd. "
  

Change Your Story, or, I <3 NY

The world is a projection of our minds.  

As I write this, I'm on a Greyhound bus on the way back from a lovely weekend in NY (where I got to see the lovely co-writer of this blog!).  

I was invited last-minute by two friends to join them on this trip.  I gladly accepted, always jumping at the chance to visit The Big Apple. 

Saturday afternoon I met up with a NY friend to see a men's cabaret show, complete with a plethora of musical numbers.  In the middle of the first song, this musical theater freak (yours truly) made a decision.  I was no longer going to talk about it.  I was going to move to New York.  Within one year, to be exact.

The music swelled, I drank my wine, I chatted with my lovely friend, and I knew this was where I wanted to be.  

The next morning, I missed my super early bus back to DC, but secretly rejoiced because this meant I had more time to walk around the city.  I sat at a table in front of the hotel, taking in the energy of the city, thrilled to have the whole day ahead of me.

I walked around for a while till I reached the Port Authority to see if I could switch my ticket to a later bus.  I was rolling my duffle bag along the way.  A lady walked by me and said "If I trip over that, you're gonna get punched.  Right in the face."  All of a sudden, the usual routine was set in motion.  The hurt.  How can someone who doesn't know me at all say something like that??  The urge to prove what kind of a person I am. 

Very quickly, my story changed.  What if this isn't my city?  The evidence that shows why I shouldn't move here.  The people who have said, "this city takes a toll on you."

I hadn't heard from my two travel buddies, who were going to travel back to DC separately from me.  I texted them to let me know if they wanted to hang out before they left.  I thanked them again for inviting me on the trip.  I asked if they wouldn't mind throwing my sleeping bag in their trunk so I wouldn't have to lug it around till my bus departure. 

They never responded, so a few hours later I texted them and asked them to confirm that they were alive.  No response.  I called them each a couple of times, knowing that they are usually attached to their phones.  Nothing. 

Again, my story changed.  I started to wonder if they were annoyed that I spent a lot of time with friends other than them on this trip.  I didn't think so, but I couldn't understand the lack of a response.  

I have seen both friends hold a grudge like nobody's business against other people.  I have seen them feed off of each other as they confirm why said grudges should be held.  Maybe now, it was simply my turn.

I began to lament the situation.  Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?  The familiar thought pattern appeared again - "I can only feel okay and safe if no one is mad at me."  A deep rooted, ingrained pattern.

But - the Universe knows what it's doing.  It delivers the same message over and over until you finally get it.

As I sat on the bus, I thought to myself, GET CURIOUS.  If they really are mad, what's it REALLY about?  

It has nothing to do with me.

They've had their own difficult experiences in life that have resulted in them creating a story in their minds about how the world works.  I cannot fix that.  That is their journey.  They may not know it yet, but they can change their story.  

And I can change mine.  

Once I started to get CURIOUS it was clear that whether I am okay and safe DOES NOT depend on others feelings towards me!!!!!  

I get it.

It is possible that the two friends aren't mad and all of this was the result of a couple of lost phone chargers.  Or it could be that my speculations were true.  The delightful point, though, is that it doesn't matter either way. 

And New York is either a magical land or a sea of bitter people.  I get to decide. 

Showtown, U.S.A.

Photo by Caterina Clerici via The Guardian 

The state of Florida is filled with fascinating small towns and tawdry amusements alike.  Traveling along its sun-soaked highways, there are always signs announcing the miles between you and Gatorland, the Magic Kingdom or the Fountain of Youth.

Gibsonton, Florida is just ten miles outside of Tampa, if you drive south on U.S. Highway 41.  It really is surprising that it has never been the subject of a Tim Burton movie (given his appreciation for the landscapes of Florida and circus-style theatrics).  

In the mid-1930s, an eight and a half-foot tall man named Al Tomaini, once billed as The World's Tallest Man, eloped from the circus with his two and a half-foot tall love, Jeanie, who was billed as The Half Girl.  They honeymooned in Niagara Falls, then toured together as The World's Strangest Married Couple.  Upon retiring, they founded a fish camp and nearby cluster of trailers, which would grow into the town of Gibsonton, Florida (called Gibtown by its citizens).  Al was its first fire chief.

Soon Gibsonton blossomed as a community for sideshow performers to spend the winter months or to retire.  The Ringling Brothers' winter headquarters were in nearby Sarasota and besides, you were permitted to keep elephants and dismantled carnival rides (a status symbol) on your front lawn.  Conjoined sisters Daisy and Violet Hilton (of Side Show fame) ran a fruit stand in town.  Perscilla the Monkey Girl, Grady Stiles the Lobster Boy and Edward Anato Hayes the Anatomical Wonder were among those who called it home.   

Photo from BBC via Pinterest

Since freak shows (with a fraught history all their own) are largely a thing of the past, Gibsonton may look like any other small town to travelers along Highway 41.  However, if you stop in, you can still find relics of the town's past, including a museum and plenty of colorful stories from the bartenders at Showtown USA.

The Distant Marvels

A Picture from 1963 Cuba by Henri Cartier-Bresson

Despite the old adage, I'm a sucker for book covers and the Italian press Europa Editions publishes beautifully designed books.

Picture by Marko Metzinger for The New York Times

There's a shelf dedicated to Europa Editions books at the trusty Mid-Manhattan library, which always draws me in.  And so, earlier this week I left with Chantel Acevedo's The Distant Marvels.

It's written in the same spirit as Isabel Allende's Eva Luna, but opens in Cuba in 1963.  As Hurricane Flora approaches, a group of women are evacuated from their homes to the top floor of a former governor's mansion.  Among these women is María Sirena, an eighty-something former lettora, who was once paid to read stories aloud as men worked in cigar factories.  As the storm rages outside, María Sirena spins an epic family saga.

I'm about a third of the way through and particularly love this passage in which María Sirena remembers her daughter:

"I consider her at fifteen, bookish and romantic then, writing poems on broad hibiscus leaves and floating them in the canals behind our apartment.  At eighteen, she fell in love with Mireya Peña's son, Alejandro, a poet, too, and her appetite for him was so crushing that he became all the food she needed; she lost the plumpness in her arms and dark circles shadowed her eyes.  'He is the best poem I've ever written,' she gushed to me one night, and I called her a little fool, and warned her about poets.  I told her a story about a poet, who died facing the sun, and she laughed and called me ridiculous.  She regained herself - her weight, her senses - when she left Alejandro the night before their wedding.  I got my daughter back, but in trade, I lost Mireya's friendship and earned her dagger eyes for the rest of my life."

Non Sequitur Thursday

Picture Source Here 

A funny, hypnotic web series about a pair of gal pals (featuring #girlcrush Gina Rodriguez).

Elizabeth Taylor ran a secret safe house to help HIV patients.

The lost Broadway musical starring Muhammad Ali.

An accelerator in Nairobi with an emphasis on sustainability and opportunities for women.

26 things everyone should do for themselves at least once a year.

Cold brew coffee with a "crème brûlée finish".

For your afternoon daydreams: five days in Venice.

Ten Easy Holiday Gifts

1. One of these irresistible DIY fruit slice umbrellas.  

2.  An ASOS star crown headband for all of the goddesses in your life.

3.  Felt mistletoe for your main squeeze - it's the gift that keeps on giving.

4.  Another stocking stuffer for the Twin Peaks fanatic in your life (or Gilmore Girls or Sherlock).   

5.  A Ghost Rose Candle - Catbird's ghost rose solid perfume, with notes of English rose, champagne and peony, has garnered a cult following.  I love the perfume's mysterious, romantic scent, but have found that it fades quickly.  Candles are something that I'm always reluctant to splurge on myself, but as a gift, the fragrance is a lovely addition to all of those winter hours indoors.  Bonus: it's named after a passage in Anne of Green Gables.

6.  A Havana Lomo'Instant set for the winsome photographer in your life (and everyone has a winsome photographer in their life).  Doesn't it make you want to vacation in Miami Beach in the sixties?

There's also a Lomography shop in the West Village for many more options.  

7.  A classic home planetarium (or perhaps tickets to the planetarium at the Natural History Museum) for the starry-eyed nerd in your life.

8.  Beautiful old books with that intoxicating old book smell: Sometimes a charming edition of a favorite book is a comforting thing to have.  Go old school and write a note inside of the front cover.

Alibris is my go-to source for older editions of books.  Of course, there's always trusty eBay and bookshops like HousingWorks, The Strand and Unnameable Books.   For new copies of old favorites, special editions are available from the likes of Penguin.  If money is no object, Juniper Books offers beautifully designed or custom collections.     

Dre-e-eam, Dream, Dream, Dream

9.  A gift subscription to MoviePass:  Going to the movies is hella expensive these days.  I used MoviePass for some time before hitting a busy period.  For a monthly fee that equals two or three movie tickets in Manhattan, you can see up to one movie per day (with the caveats that you can only see each movie once and they cannot be 3D movies).  Tickets are obtained through a user-friendly app, which covers most theaters, including indie ones.  A three month gift pass seems perfect for a movie lover in the throes of Oscar season.

Still from the impossibly beautiful movie Blancanieves.

10.  And finally, an easy gift for the whiskey enthusiasts in your life: pourable Manhattans, a barrel-aged, ready-to-drink cocktail, made from a pre-prohibition recipe.  

For the more adventurous, there's also chocolate whiskey (made in Brooklyn from the cocao husks used to create Mast Brothers chocolate).