Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Your Mittens, They're So Big...

Tonight I wore my cupcake mittens. Granted it was only in the elevator and a few blocks to the subway, but I was a little shocked that no one said anything to me. If I saw someone wearing these mittens, I would stop them and ask, "Excuse me. Where did you get those fucking awesome mittens?". I tell you, sometimes New Yorkers are too jaded for their own good.

I got on the 6 Train and out of the corner of my eye spotted a guy. At 42nd Street, some pepole got off and as I moved to take a seat, I noticed the guy was looking at me. "Excuse me," I asked. "Is your name Eugene?"

"Yes," he said (I am not pulling a Frey here- his name is really Eugene).

"I went out with you once, a long time ago," I said.

"Oh yeah," he said. "What was your name again?" I am so unforgettable! Sweet!

So, I told him my name and he asked me how things were going. "Well, a lot has changed," I said. "I'd only been in New York a couple of months. I've been here for two years now."

"Do you feel like a real New Yorker?"

"Yeah, I'm tough. Look how tough I am. Did you see my mittens?" I pulled them out of my bag.

"Yeah, I saw those," he said, possibly cutting himself off from saying anything further.

"Someone made them for me, for my birthday, " I said. And then I quickly added, half under my breath, "I have a blog about cupcakes" because really, what more ridiculous sentence is there in the world than "I have a blog about cupcakes"? Right. There isn't one.

He asked me about my job, and I got to tell him which is good, because my job sounds very fancy if you spin it right. There was some face-saving going on here, the last time I saw him I had no job and no prospects. I also owned no furniture. We were killing time before a movie at his apartment and I was running around like a crazy person saying, "ooooh, look at your bed. oooh, look at your coffee table. oooh, you have a desk." Honestly, I was not shocked when he never called me again.

He told me he was now working at a financial services firm. "Which one?" I asked.

"A big one."

"You don't want to say?"

"No, not on the train. You know." Actually, I didn't know at all. Was this a legitimate concern or was he afraid I was going to stalk him?

We chatted for a bit and then he said, "I'm getting off here." It was 33rd Street. The entire conversation lasted one station ride.

I felt good, but then I remembered my shoes. When I first moved to New York, I vowed never to be the kind of person who wears sneakers for the commute then changes into heels at the office. I'm not a masochist, I generally try to find moderately attractive/moderately comfortable shoes (a big compromise if ever there was one). But some days, I just say screw it. I've got enough shoes under my desk at work to pull something off- today I was wearing sneakers. And then I wondered what he must of thought seeing those mittens. Did he see the mittens first, then let his gaze wander up to my face when he vaguely recognized me? And if so, did he think, "Well, that figures."?

Sidenote: before Princess of Darkness moved into our Park Slope apartment, I had another roommate who was totally insane in a different way. After my date with this guy, I was talking about it with this roommie and I mentioned he was losing his hair. Almost bald, actually. She made a face. "What?" I said. "You don't care? You can't possibly care about something like that?" And then this girl said one of the craziest things I've ever heard anyone say with a straight face. She said, "I don't have a problem dating anyone unattractive*, it's just that, well, my family is really, really attractive and I would feel bad for him, if I ever brought him home, because he would feel so uncomfortable." I laughed. She looked at me. I realized she wasn't kidding. I think I got up and walked out of the room.

*I never said he was unattractive. I said he was losing his hair. I thought he was kinda cute: short and Jewish, the way I like 'em.

2 comments:

Super Skater said...

Was the attractive former roommate 'no foods'? I love that story. But I always mix up the roommates and their respective nicknames.

Cupcake said...

Yes, SuperSkater is refering to the situation where, when I first moved into my Park Slope apartment, one of my roommates was doing the Raw Food movement. The other was a recovering (I'm using the word 'recovering' loosely here) anorexic/bulemic. I called them "Raw Foods" and "No Foods". I actually think Raw Foods was much prettier than No Foods. No Foods was delusional on many, many levels.