lundi 28 août 2006

Would you rather...*

A bouquet of (almost overly) fragrant tuberoses.

After meeting someone at a bar: return to his place or return to yours?

I know I've complained about guys lingering too long at my apartment, but really, I'd rather be back at my place so should I wake up early, I can get out of my bed and check my email and do things like text message people from my closet. Otherwise, you're sort of stuck lying in bed with no other recourse because the bed squeaks if you move (very apparent over the course of the night), and you can't just up and leave because your car is miles away, and oh yeah, shit, where's your underwear?

Hook up with a total stranger, or a friend of a friend?

I know, you're thinking friend of a friend. There's that shared background and a certain element of security. But then think more - you know that after he drops you off the next morning at your car, he immediately calls all your mutual friends, thereby making you good ol' fodder for the lovely gossip mill. Strangers don't know anyone you know.

Wake up hungover, or wake up bruised?

Um, yeah. The bruise on my shoulder looks like a bite mark. I am not kidding. And there are more on various parts of my body and it sort of sucks because it's summer and I would like to wear tank tops without people thinking that I belong in some battered women's shelter. And there's nothing quite like waking up in bed with a practical stranger and comparing bruises you apparently inflicted upon each other over the course of a long night of physical activity. But then again, hangovers suck bigtime and can render you useless for at least the next 24 hours, if not longer. And there are things you have to do, dammit, that require that you get out of bed.

Be finally able to figure out where you met the guy before but have no contact information for him so that you can confirm, or never be able to place him and have this nag at you for the next week or so?

I lie a little when I say I have no contact info - I can easily look him up via his school directory. (What, you think I didn't google him the next day? This time, I was smart/lucky enough to espy his med school ID, which nicely provided a first and last name. How else would I have found out that he was NCAA-ranked, and highly too, in college for men's singles tennis?) But that's just stalkerish. I could also get in touch with aforementioned mutual friends, but that's too much hassle. Indeed, it's a small world when you remember that you met him in Vegas three years ago at a friend's birthday party, given that he lives in New York and at that time you lived in Boston.

Hook up with a series of really cute and intelligent guys but not have anything lasting with any of them because they live elsewhere, or monogamously date someone okay-looking and dull who does live here?

So sue me, I'm in a shallow phase of my life. And I have standards. The day you find me a really cute and intelligent LA inhabitant, I'll be pleased as punch.

*Based on the totally awesome eponymous party game. You really oughta check it out.