What puts me off marriage the most.....

Is married men.

One has only to experience the married man once or twice when he is away from his wife, his face like a dog released from his post in the yard, to really put a crimp in all your marriage is bliss fantasies.

This past weekend I was in the lovely RVA visiting my bro, eatin' some din din, and, of course, drinking our weight in wine. Over the course of the night I met what my friend calls, "The Holy Trinity of Grope," three of the gropiest, flirtiest men I have ever encountered- two of which were married.

After a quick dance where I was spun around and asked, "Do you like to lead the men you date as well?" (Good question, I might've heard that one before) I spent the rest of the night avoiding: avoiding having my waist clasped, avoiding having my legs brushed by a wayward hand, avoiding a hand being placed on my back. I must have looked like a spastic worm as I finagled around the room.

Finally I was cornered by one of the married dudes where we discussed, among other things, how I was projecting that I was not interested in dating anyone at the moment. No shit! And then we discussed (using words culled from the tantric/yoga lexicon) how when men are hurt they try to find solace in sex while women are not interested in sex until their heart heals. No shit (reprise)! Then he tried to set me up with his friend in New York so I could have a fling before I officially moved. Um, just no, not terribly interested.

Today, back in NYC, my friend just told me that she made out with this guy at a bar and when she asked him how old he was he responded, "I'm 42, married, and with two kids." Uh whah?

After watching MadMen, experiencing The Holy Trinity of Grope, and my friend's story- living a life totally devoid of marriage seems like a completely worthwhile goal.

If we could just solve that pesky loneliness factor- life would be smooth sailing. Until then I just wish I could find a worthy sailor.

Drunk + iTunes = Trouble

I was checking out my credit card balance today and I see an iTunes charge for $.99- not that bigga deal, but I honestly have no recollection of what I purchased on the date in question...so I check my account at iTunes and discover that I bought "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by John Denver.

And then it all came flooding back to me: someone suggesting that we play that song on repeat during the last hours of my going away party, iTunes fulfilling that request, and me singing the song over and over again. Now, come to think of it- maybe the "repeat" part of the suggestion was my idea.

Let the good times roll! A drunk John Denver jukebox stuck on repeat- This ole Daisy knows how to have herself a real good time.

Apartments in NYC: Getting Out is Just as Hard As Getting In

Anyone who knows me knows that "assertiveness" is not my middle name. I prefer passive aggression, veiled underhanded comments, bitching about it to anyone other than the party involved, and other wussy approaches to handling conflict...But my inner anger has really been riled up by the broker in charge of re-renting my apartment.

Today I got approximately a 2 hour warning that he would be bringing people by. Two hours! By law they have to provide 24 hours notice.
I texted him back and said no can do at at that time. I even offered an hour later.
To which I got this reply: Sorry, has to be then.

And for one of the few moments in my life I called back and confronted. I called the broker, I called the landlord, hell, I might even call the mayor I'm so pissed off.

The broker had the gall to act like I am "preventing him from showing my apartment." Mind you, this is the first time I've said no to a time he proposed even though he has brought over three couples when he told me he was only bringing one, showed up an hour late, and has tried to open my door while I was standing there naked screaming that I was getting in the shower.

AND mind you that I did pay my final month's rent which is HEFTY.

But just like most things in NYC, money does not solve everything, sometimes you gotta fight for what you need.

Although eventually I did let the landlord talk me down from the ledge with the unhelpful offer that I should, "let the broker know in advance when I can't show the apartment" (ahem, did I mention my rent was HEFTY)- I felt good that I said something...

Maybe New York did teach me something about being assertive after all!

Final Countdown: Update

Somewhere in the midst of quitting my job, packing up my apartment, completing a midterm, and saying aloha to a million people, things, and cheeseburger joints it dawned on me that I have approximately two more days in NYC. Well to be honest, two more days now and maybe two more days later this month and that in all likelihood I will not be able to complete my NYC bucket list which consists of (in no particular order):

1) Ride on a double decker tour bus
2) Eat at Esca, Gotham Bar and Grill, and Per Se
3) Spend an afternoon at the Natural History Museum
4) Ride on the Circle Line
5) Take the Water Taxi to the Water Taxi Beach
6) Visit the Tenement Museum

But instead of getting upset or trying to cram it all in- I've also been looking back at the amazing things I have done here in the past two years, which include (in no particular order)

1) Go to both the Regional and National Air Guitar Championships and manage to get on stage at both events.
2) Ride a boat around the tip of Manhattan dressed as a pirate
3) Go to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade
4) Experience New Year's Eve "near" Times Square
5) Spent many an evening with friends dancing and possibly kissing someone in various bars
6) Had Mike Myers make fun of me
7) Sat next to Jake Gyllenhal
8) Seen Dolly Parton at Radio City Music Hall
9) Gone to Parsons
10) Lived on a great street in the West Village
11) Listened to the other end of many a conversation with Lenny Kravitz
12) Made really amazing friends and eaten at many amazing restaurants
13) Eaten sugar fries at Florent
14) Sunbathed at the Christopher Street pier
15) Walked the length of Central Park
16) Figured out the subway system for the most part
17) Found my inner compass for city directions (found my inner compass in life, hmmm...probably not yet, but getting closer)
18) Been bowling in Queens on numerous occasions
19) Worked in publishing
20) Worked a real job for longer than I ever have before
21) Watched Chinese musicians and dancers almost every morning for a summer in Sunset Park
22) Been VIP at She and Him

Whew- and this is just the short list of so many amazing experiences I have had, which makes me smile on the inside, feel a bit sleepy and happy to go back to a calmer life, something I think I'm going to celebrate tonight with one of my favorite things to do in NYC: walk to the Union Square movie theater, get a box of Nachos with cheese and a big Coke and watch a movie I may or may not be interested in- all by myself.

Westside Story: Jersey Edition

Props to my pal Curtis over at Third and Long for posting this on his blog.
It's so good I had to steal it!

Apparently this video captures a rare mating ritual, one that only happens at the Jersey public swimming pool. Lolly, our New Jersey correspondent, will be back with the science behind these moves after the break.

Lest us not forget Spain

Some readers were disappointed in my choice of loving Italians. Yes, they are momma's boys who never leave the house. And yes once they do leave the house they will probably commit adultery numerous times while you iron their jerseys and roll up the gnocchi. And yes they do have a tendency to cry and roll around on the ground when someone taps their shin guard. But, alas, I have loved all things Italian since I went there at the impressionable age of 19.

However! I would feel remiss if I did not point out that, just like in Euro soccer, Spain has been looking increasingly like a winner these days. And by winner I mean hot. So forgive me Italy for my love of this and this, You will always be my spicy meatball, but for now I'm going to have to take a little tapas on the side.

You said it sister.

As I walked to the subway from work tonight, a homeless woman, whose name read Caren Weikstein on a manilla folder in front of her, muttered under her breath: We're all just waiting for the Italians.

And I thought, you're so very very right Caren, I'm waiting for several italians, this one in particular.

How you doin'?

I would like to direct my NYC contingency to a really cool website that was created by a friend of a friend....www.ifeelnyc.com
You can find and suggest places to go based on your mood.

Genius is what I call it! Especially the hangover page.

Sit on Down and Let Aunt Daisy Tell You Somethin'

Nothing makes me, Daisy, more self-righteous about how a girl should be treated in a relationship than not being in one myself. And since I'm saddling up to month four of the Daisy Drawler Celibacy Tour of 2008 I've got a lot to say.

I was sitting in a bar last week with two friends, one newish, one brand spankin' new. Both are good looking girls, smart, funny, etc and both were telling me about how their boyfriends were not treating them very well. They never said they weren't being treated very well out right. They said things like, "Well, I wish he would do this" or "Why isn't he doing that". Bottom line, dear reader, because oh sweet holy heaven have I been there, their boyfriends, bless their little hearts, were being assholes.

Why o! why do we girls allow ourselves to be treated like this? You wouldn't let your friends treat you this way. If you friend said, "Let's hang out tonight, I'll call you later" and then never did you would call them and say, "What the hell?" If your friend said, "I'm not quite sure I like being with you" you wouldn't moan and groan and wonder why they don't like you. You would feel a little sad, realize you have other friends and move on. Not sit in a bar and ask a whiskey how you could morph yourself into something they did like.

Dear readers, I can preach like this because I have been there. Too. Many. Times. I'm not even going to say that I'm not going to be there again. I'm just going to give a little Relationships Anonymous prayer that, "I will accept the things I cannot change and work on those that I can" and hope that the next go around I will stand up for myself a little more than I did the last time.

The feminist movement gave us a lot of things: the ability to have our own jobs, money, security, etc. but I think somehow all that inspiring self-esteem we were supposed to get from being independent somehow morphed into still needing a boy's approval of our looks, our coolness, and our f*ckability. Why this is, I'm not quite sure but God only knows how many times I've sat back and not said anything to a boyfriend about their behavior or something they've said because I didn't want to seem lame (this is, of course, when sober- when drunk I usually say exactly what's on my mind).

But the sad truth is instead of thinking about how there are other guys out there for me I'll think about how there are plenty of other girls out there for him: girls willing to give it up to any available loser (including my boyfriend) to boost their self-esteem and so I sit back and think, "What could I have done differently?" and continue to be 1)forgotten at a bar 2) told that I just wasn't fun enough 3)forgotten at the home we both lived in (do you see a pattern here? your boyfriend should probably not forget about you while walking from your bedroom to the livingroom)

So this is a plea to all the girls out there currently in not so good relationships. Think about what you want, think about how you should be treated, and don't waste one more moment not getting what you need. Everybody is worth having someone love them and treat them well, don't waste your time on those that don't. And don't hurt your fellow girls in the process. We should help each other out, not compete and backstab our way to the top of the boyfriend bedpost.

At the end of the day it's all about what I like to call Tab A/ Slot B....They have Tab A, don't give 'em Slot B for less than YOU are worth.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Sorry for the delay, faithful five, but between school, work, moving, and last weekend it's been pretty hectic and odd. Last weekend was probably the the most varied and exhausting weekend in the life of Daisy. In a little over a 24 hour period I: Drove in New York for the first time, drove to Virginia and back, picked friends off the side of I-66, helped tow a car, went to an emotionally charged funeral, swam in a pool in my clothes, drank whiskey on the porch here, defended my Southern roots, explored 18th century basements, caused someone to fall directly on their head, finally got to give a much deserved apology to an ex-boyfriend, had a ghost visit my dreams, smoked at least 2 packs of cigarettes, and got back in time for homework. All with three wardrobe changes and without a shower. Whew.

Anyhoo, never fear: I'm back in the saddle again.

One last note: I would like to remind the readers to please treasure the ones you love and tell them so as much as possible. At the funeral I was looking at all these pictures of this beautiful girl who died suddenly and realized again that it could have easily been me. And I thought that I would want to leave behind as many memories as possible of happy, fun days and love. Cheesy but true. As I sat around the front porch with my Virginny friends I went around and thought about how awesome they all are and I knew that I am so lucky to have them in my life.

Hearts and Puppies and Kisses
Daisy