Wednesday, November 14, 2007


When work is slow, I tend to go out way too much and drink way too much. And sometimes, I get myself into situations that can only occur in Manhattan.

Let me explain:

Late the other night, after a few Black Bitches (vodka/coke), I went out cruising for a bruising. It was one of those Manhattan nights when the three deadly vices of singlehood rear their ugly heads. Yes, the terrible trio of horny, bored and lonely - a lethal combination on the ultimate island of lost souls.

At a dim bar on the Lower East Side, a sexy foreigner was giving me the eye. Greek? Italian? Arab? Israeli? Spanish? Didn’t matter, foreign men love me. Soon we were in a dark corner making out. When we came up for air to order yet another cocktail, he said to me…”You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” I said, my mind racing to place the face.

“It’s been about 10 years,” he said. “I look different, but you oddly look the same.”

I smiled at his charm and remembered to send a thank-you note to my injection specialist.

“Maybe this will remind you,” he said as he put my hand down his Diesel low-rise jeans.

Shamelessly, I groped the goods.

Suddenly, I knew who he was.. His name was Marcello and he was a one-balled actor from Barcelona with a never-ending sex drive, but oddly, with all that testosterone, he was remarkably bad in bed. I broke it off with him not only because of his poor sexual skills, but because his libido woke me up in the middle of the night so often I was beginning to look my real age.

“I remember you,” I smiled.

We adjusted ourselves and went back into the main club. Two girls ran up to him and asked for autographs.

“I have a show on the CW network and I’ve done a few movies,” he said.

Hmmm….this was looking better.

We went back to his very upscale condo on the West Side Highway in the West Village.

In the morning, after an all night love fest, I was exhausted. Yes, in the past decade his sexual skills had improved, but he still wanted it every 15 minutes. He looked at me sans concealer in the harsh light of day and commented that I looked tired.

I gave him my cell number, but I doubted I would answer his calls. I love the fame game, but I also like my sleep.

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