3. The Edward Lewis Syndrome

Why is it not as simple as Roy Orbison so beautifully sings it in his song Pretty Woman? Or as simple and magical as Richard Gere and Julia Roberts act it out to be? I am not very romantically inclined and Movies like Pretty Woman generally make me want to have a few of those tidy little airplane barf bags on hand.

Although lately I find myself not-so-secretly hoping that I will hear the blaring horn of a stretch limo coming down the street, I will run to the fire escape and popping through the sun roof will be my crush of the week.

Gross. What is wrong with me?

I am not really sure why improbable, unrealistic, garbage-like thoughts have entered my man desires lately. I could blame it on Hollywood like some of the female population, or I could blame it on men being total morons like the remaining women who do not believe the former, but really where does this desire come from and is this epidemic possibly the worst of them all? Has Edward Lewis(Richard Gere) ruined it for us by creating unrealistic expectations or should we be holding out for this kind of a man?

I had a friend say to me lately that she thinks men feel less inclined to "work at it" in reference to landing a lady because casual sex has reached such a high acceptance rate. If a man can go out to the bar and take virtually any woman home with him upon knowing her for five minutes I guess there is no reason to wine and dine anymore? Casual sex is like Visa, it's so widely accepted... it's everywhere you want to be...? Right?

I wish that I could just go out, and well for lack of a better reference, swipe my Visa away and not worry about any of the emotional or physical consequences. Unfortunately, myself, my roommate, my friend Jeanne and many other women out there have been infected with the Edward Lewis syndrome. We are the ladies, who more often than not, go out to the bar with the ladies and leave with no mans cause our standards have reached astronomically high levels. We want the romance, the intimacy, the connection...not a lustful night of hot sex followed by a hung over morning, a sore crotch and a phone number you are too embarrassed to call due to the alcohol induced coital dirty talk.

Although there are a few of those illusive women whom manage to let it all go without loosing their emotional cool.

My friend Mary, the virgin saint...yeah right, is an anomaly among women. This girl has a thicker and more coveted black book than most of the A-list women in NYC. Mary pretty much runs the Wall Street Man-Market.

As the U.S. economy continues to dive there is one market investment that I would put all $552.86 of my savings into... Mary bringing home an investment banker on a Saturday night. She pretty much holds all the shares in the financial district, the bar-tenders on Water street know her, and want her. She is a Ulysses Pub regular. For those of you unfamiliar with the city Ulysses is like the Stock Exchange after party, but these brokers aren't looking to exchange stock after the market closes, they are looking for a very special exchange with our very special Miss Mary. Even after doing laps for an entire night at the bar with no luck, and it looks as though the "Mary Market" might crash for a night, she will step outside for a smoke, and meet a man on the street. ON THE FUCKING STREET! How do things like this transpire??? Suddenly her S&P 500 is on the rise again (that is her Sex and Pleasure 500). My favorite part is that like the real world market there is a strict curfew to how long the "Mary Market" is open. She pretty much has them out the door before the condom comes off. It is impressive.

Whereas, if I have a mild flirtation with a man I am in love with him for the next week. I make no attempt to contact him or see him and just play the fantasy away in my head. I imagine kissing him, sleeping with him, and even what our many many houses in various exotic locations might look like. The falling in love everyday factor does comply with my New Phase goals, but for real, my Edward Lewis syndrome and search for true love totally inhibits any chance that I may have to even casually date someone. Where is the happy medium between Edward Lewis and the escapades of my socialite friend Mary?

I feel as though I have identified many illnesses in the past three segments and still come up with few cures. I wish there was a simple prescription I could write. I would think that I would have to be on a pretty high dosage of ANTI- W.W.V.-BIOTICS seeing that I tried to call Palo a few days ago. Thank God the call wouldn't go through. I think Jesus s trying to tell me something...

I would like to take the easy way out and say that finding love will at least bring light to how to conquer these diseases if not cure them entirely. Realistically I think love can, but the love affair can't be with a man...it has to be more unexpected and more versatile than a relationship with any man. I know right now that I love the following, and for now that will have to help me stay healthy...and away from the Wayne's World Virus and other related illnesses and syndrome's...and maybe after all of this Richard Gere will come riding up my block...or maybe not but I will always have a love for:

1. Brooklyn
2. The Polish bread I buy
3. Arri
4. Building cameras
5. Watching the subway roar into the station
6. The city
7. Cape Cod
8. Camp
9. Minnesota
10. Skiing
11. The wilderness
12. Costa Rica
13. SAS

And I have a feeling this kinda love might last forever...who needs a man...?

2. Shock and Awe, Hypo-man-cemia

My girl Chastity just broke up with her million dollar, future politician boy friend, who still maintained his good looks and mid-western values amidst all of his early success. She had been seeing him for the past three years and their relationship came to an end this spring when they seemed to just fall out of love. She packed up her things and moved to NYC and let me just say that she has hit the dating scene with a post 9/11 "Bushism" quality. Let me make it a multiple choice analogy for you...SAT style.

If Chastity is to a Post 9/11 fighter pilot, than a New York City single male is to:

A. North Korea
B. Europe
C. Afghanistan
D. Antarctica

If you guessed Afghanistan than you are correct. Chastity came to New York and has literally blown up the dating scene. She has been on more dates in the last three weeks, since her arrival, than I have in the last year. (Maybe that doesn't say a whole lot for my dating skills, but it's pretty intense.)

For those of you who chose one of the other options it may suggest the following:

1. My question was a little misleading
2. If you chose North Korea than you may be like me and see the New York City single male as one who is clearly harboring tons of nuclear explosives just lurking in the darkness. He waiting for the right time to strike and blow up all the hope that you once had. Yes, it is a sad state of affairs...I am beginning to think that they are all evil.
3. If you chose Europe you see the New York City single male as one who, like Tony Blair, will roll over and support the worst ideas ever...like supporting the war in iraq...or well perhaps anal sex. (That would be one of the worst ideas ever in my mind, but I know that there are ladies out there who feel otherwise.)
4. If you chose Antarctica you see the New York City single male as a lonely and desolate frozen place that barely gets any sunlight and you would rather overdoes on barbiturates than spend anytime with such a secluded and cold man.

As for Chastity I believe that she suffers from what I like to call Shock and Awe, Hypo-man-cemia. After suffering a traumatic break up the saying "get back in the saddle again" is taken all too literally. It is that sudden shock of being without your male counter part that throws you into a dating tailspin...or feeding frenzy of sorts. The Hypo-man-cemia takes over and you devour...or in Chastity's case, explode on every man that you see. Yes, I have been here too...I think that I spent much of my freshman year of college in this state. I used to get so anxious about being alone that it would nearly make me nauseous. Can you say embarrassing?

Again, I am not entirely sure how to correct this Hypo-man-cemia and Shock and Awe...I guess after a while it is like Afghanistan...soon it will be all blown up. We ladies, will be forced to move on to something else...like Iraq...or Lesbianism.

The Three Epidemics: 1. He looks like a Q-tip Sleeping Sickness. 2. Shock and Awe Hypo-man-cemia 3. The Edward Lewis Syndrome

As I discussed in my previous entry I have decided that I have a pretty serious epidemic. WWV, which may sound like some new age women's wrestling federation, but it actually stands for Wayne's World Virus. My symptoms have lead to a few lingual run-ins with my ex, Palo, since our break up last October.

Our often tipsy encounters are like a not-so-fantastic game of Monopoly. You know, the times when your opponent holds all the astronomical real-estate and you are desperatly grasping Water Works, Reading Railroad and the rickety hotels that you have on Baltic Avenue and Mediterranean Avenue just to stay in game. You clutch tightly to what you have left by a thread hoping that maybe you will roll an 11 and land on free parking. Then the free parking dream starts to dwindle as you slowly mortgage the four properties you have left...and eventually the real estate tycoon does take it all.

My on-again off again moments with Palo sound a lot prettier when you compare it to a Parker Brothers game...but somehow I ended up being the shack on Baltic Avenue and my Ex the real estate tycoon, and like most shanty neighborhoods today my Ex bull dozed me right over and is planning to find some shiny new girl...or rather, put up some glossy new high rise on the old streets of Baltic avenue.

For fucks sake...why do I go back for more?

Well because I have WWV. However, I am determined not to let this high roller take it all. But I am not going to try and stay in the game due to some lucky roll of the dice for my big free parking break. I am not really sure where to go from here...how do both the heart stealing tycoon and the shack in shanty town create a win win situation?

I started to notice that I was not the only one with a serious post break up illness. In fact I have witnessed and can diagnose three major sicknesses in the last week. Why is it that so many beautiful, powerful and strong women fall ill to this post break up CRAP? Will someone please call the center for disease control we may actually have a Pandemic on our hands! You may think this is a little dramatic, but not only have I witnessed these illnesses in action, but I myself have shown symptoms of the following from time to time. I am just as sick as the ladies who I love and cherish who I mention in the next three sections. (all names have been changed in compliance with new medical privacy laws of New York State, see Section 8 Paragraph XVI of the New York State Law Book).

1. He looks like a Q-Tip Sleeping Sickness

About a month ago my friend Jeanne ended a two and half year relationship nearly over night. Basically if I had to make a simple flow chart of what happened it would look like this:

Jeanne and Marco go to Cosco. Marco has a meltdown and says he never wants to get married or have children.
Jeanne says this would have been nice to know two years ago. Jeane
tells Marco she is leaving. That night Jeanne calls her Mom.

Two days later Jeanne's Mom flies in, they pack up Jeanne's life and move her home, a quarter of the way across the country.

Short. Sweet. Too the point and OVER in the blink of an eye...but not without some kind of a price could she escape her last relationship.

As I have done many a-times after a break up I dust off the little black book and try to get back in the game. After two and a half years- or nearly four in my case- that little black book has dwindled down to, maybe, a few names of fun loving, attractive, and light hearted hook ups that are worth revisiting. Upon Jeanne's return to her hometown she did exactly as I would have and made the usual phone calls. To all the friends and possible networking opportunities in the surrounding area and most importantly to those last flings she had before she met Marco.

This is where the sickness takes over.

Jeanne met for drinks with Peter an available twenty something, endearing and kind hearted, man whom she had shared a few nights of casual and marginal sex with...pre-Marco. Jeanne was excited to see him again and he already texted her a message declaring that is was "hot" that she was back in town.

As I had expected my phone rang later that evening after their post drinks and possibly post coital date. To my surprise the conversation went as follows:

Me: So how was it?

Jeanne: Eh. I mean it was good to see him but...

Me: But what? What's wrong? Is he seeing someone?

Jeanne: No, well he sorta has this one girl but...

Me: But what?

Jeanne: He was so tall, and his hair is so blonde, and he is just kinda pasty...and he kinda looks like a Q-tip...

Now this is where I give Jeanne a lot of credit. Knowing myself, and I would assume other women out there, I would have found some redeeming quality about him(or had enough cocktails to find something redeeming) to try and spend the night with him. The reason behind the sleepover being that after a break up it is weird to stay on "your side of the bed" when no one else is on the other. It becomes easier to bring a guy home- Q-tip looking or not- simply to fill that void in the Queen size bed that you invested in with your last serious leading man.

Thus the name..."He looks like a Q-tip Sleeping Sickness," which is really about keeping that other side of the bed warm while trying to sort out the emotional implosion of your last relationship. Is anyone with me out there?

I managed to curtail this disease slightly during my last break up by getting my roommate to share a bed with me instead of some random fellow I happened to meet on a street corner. (Not to mention that my roommate, Taylor, and I also developed a rat infestation in her bedroom which forced her to be my bedmate as well. I never thought that I would be thankful for having a rodent problem)...?

None the less I commend Jeanne on being able to escape the Sleeping Sickness. She didn't take home a bed warmer...but it may also have been driven by the fact that she moved back in with her parents. The Jury is still out, but I will give her the benefit of the doubt.

How many licks does it take?

So about the New Phase...that whole “turn over a new leaf” concept that seems to work out really well for born again Christians. Maybe I need to have a word them and their ability to keep the faith since over the last week I have fallen off the "New Phase" wagon. I am struggling to strike the balance between the new life and the old…where exactly does the buck stop? Where do I draw the line in the sand (or concrete jungle of New York) between what works and what doesn’t? How do I bring the “not so good” to a screeching halt when it seems to force its ugly head into my life repeatedly?

It has also occurred to me that old habits are becoming a real issue. We have all reached an age when the past, for the first time, can haunt us. Our lives have become more complex over the past decade. Daily issues no longer involve Barbie’s head falling off. The previous phases of life are actually able to manifest themselves as an emotional epidemic. With this little epidemic comes a whole laundry list of symptoms and ailments that get dragged around from relationship to the next. Does freedom from previous phases diseases only come with an entire shift in routine? If so how does one obtain such a dramatic shift?

The word Routine; it has a comforting ring to it don't you think? It sounds like a guarantee; a guarantee that will certainly bring relaxation and promise. There will be no unexpected and uncomfortable moments. Perhaps not everyone views this as bliss, but in the past(the previous phase) I liked to be able to KNOW what going to happen AT ALL TIMES. Call me a control maniac, but you have to admit sometimes it would be nice to know the following things:


1.Will the train come right away? Or will I wait for a few minutes?
2. Will I make it to work on time?
3.What the Hell is going on in Minnesota right now?
4.Will I ever actually achieve anything at work?
5.Will I ever be able to pay my bills?
6.Which day this week will I get my period?
7.Why does the cute boy at work flirt with me, does that mean: A) He is a flirt. B) He is interested. C) He is a big tease...just like me.
8. Will I ever meet a man in New York that does not have the attention span of a fruit fly?

I think ultimately I am just looking for some kind of an answer. In which case I should just buy a magic eight ball to solve my problems. I would guesstimate the eight ball would predict the following to the previous questions:

1. Signs point to yes.
2. Outlook good.
3. Reply hazy, try again later.
4. Cannot predict now.
5. Don't count on it.
6. Today.
7. C) He is a flirt...and a young boy and he's just not that into you.
8. Incorrect usage of the word “man.” Boy’s are fruit flies. A man is more like a horse fly, bigger, stronger, more impressive and when he does land on you his bite really stings.

(Maybe men should be avoided as well?)

Yes, that is pretty accurate, maybe I shook the proverbial eight ball a little too hard for answer's 6, 7 and 8, but that is what they would be if the eight ball could actually predict the future. I guess if this is so ostensible why should I have so much churning in my mind? What is the need for all the worry and the wanting, wanting, wanting to know what is going to happen?

Since I started this New Phase I have wanted to keep myself on track, doing healthier, and more exciting things. Which for the most part I am accomplishing...BUT...and there is always a “but,” I noticed myself slip into an old nasty habit last weekend.

I kissed my ex.

My nasty habit got me thinking about post relationship epidemics. Those nasty little post-flirtation, post-fling and post relationship routines that come flooding back in a moment of weakness. For a modern, intelligent, strong and beautiful woman how many licks will it take me until I get to the center of the relationship Tootsie Pop? That is why do I keep going back for more when I know I ill never really get what I want?

Upon further examination I noticed that I am not the only woman who falls into cycles. My cycle, or sickness I like to refer to as “The Wayne’s World Virus.” Also known as the “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we can’t go out” disease.

My quest: To try and cure my virus (yes, this section may bring me back to being a bit of a control maniac, but I think it could be useful.) and also research other possible diseases that strike other strong, confident and beautiful women in hopes that I can save myself and my fellow female comrades from taking too many licks in the future.

Stay tuned for my diagnoses and the further analysis and cure for WWV (“Wayne’s World Virus.”)



Monday June 9th: “He looks like a Q-tip” sleeping sickness A.K.A. “Get back in the Saddle Again, anything will do, just spend the night with me” disease




*It may seem like I have derailed from the New Phase, but really I am trying to prevent all of the following from occurring in hopes that I can achieve some sort of real relationship of any kind in the near future.