Dumped by boy and other misadventures on Manhattan

The former part is not as bad as the first time, but it still bites. Especially when he did it over e-mail. Where are thou manners, inferior homo sapien?

Besides that small glitch, had a brilliant July 4th weekend, eating, drinking, dancing and burning cash to oblivion. With Alex, a high school friend visiting from upstate, and Casta, my roomie visiting from New Jersey, it was one big happy sleepover at our tiny duplex.

The mad weekend started at Hotel Gansevoort, an uberhip boutique hotel in the Meatpacking District with Ono, a minimalist Japanese garden bar / restaurant, and a rooftop bar offering evening views of the East River.

Ono


Rooftop Bar

Was amazed at the speed at which roomies picked up men, and at the speed NYC men pick up ladies. Fleeting superficial encounters with lots of heavy flirting. Not my style at all, but interesting enough to observe and critique. We met two Italian stallions, one a lawyer representing fashion designers, and another dealing artisanal Italian furniture. Having just been dumped, I was in no mood to socialize, and excused myself from the party when my roomies decided to change quarters to Marquis.

Next morning I was rudely awakened by sounds of kissing; I knew Nat and Casta are buddies, but surely they can't be that close?! Then I hear some dude's voice. Fan-fucking-tastic. One of them brought some dude home. I proceed to pretend I don't know anything.

After Alex's arrival, she the foodie / nutritionist / gourmet chef-to-be introduced us to the joys of Brazilian-accented sushi at Shiki's Kitchen. Was cheap, was yummy, and I liked them sushi with bananas and mangos.

(to be continued)