The Joneshaw Project

So I’ve been busy not dating for a while. Mostly because I have been writing a webseries that is FINALLY complete! If you love reading about you’re Joneshaw adventures and think, WOW… I wish this kookie kook had a WEBSERIES please help the cause with even just $1… it all adds up and makes this single lady’s dreams come true.

ALSO, if you want to see what I’m doing since I’m not dating… I’ve been eating. Check out the hot foodgasms I’ve been having on #Whenfoodreplacessex

Yup, I’m breaking my own anonymity and hoping you loyal guys will love me for it anyway. You guys ROCK! <3 

Thanks for following,

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

The other night was my boss’s birthday. We went out to dinner, as planned. Then as a “surprise” to me (even though it was HER birthday) we headed to The Boom Boom Room aka “Top of the Standard” aka THE most exclusive night club in New York City aka the architectural Notre Dame of NYC Bars. My night life dream come true!!!!

How we got in? I’ll never tell. ;) Let’s just say knowing the right people goes a LONG way. On a more interesting note: I was there stag… as per my usual lately. No thought went to this until my boss comments that her birthday wish for me was to “make out with a hottie.” As well-intentioned as this birthday wish is/was… most of the single hotties at the standard were making out with each other that night. Then it hit me: has my clutster-fuck of a social life become so obvious that my boss is making birthday wishes for it?!

It’s been ages since I’ve been on a date in Joneshaw years… which is like dog years, except weeks… even longer if you want to factor in how long it’s been since I’ve been on a second date. It’s not a problem to be solved or a plight to be dealt. After all, a night to remember at the Standard, sipping complimentary Moet, should not be measured by the candy on one’s arm… Especially since in this case, the City is your date. For a lot of women, having New York City as their boyfriend isn’t enough. Maybe because it’s straight-up polygamy, maybe its because its more effort to orgasm, or just maybe, it’s because sometimes people harshly judge us lovers of the città. 

Loving the city like a person is something many New Yorkers claim to do. Carrie Bradshaw infamously declared it her boyfriend. The cold concrete, the culture, the 12 million people crammed into the peanut of real estate… what’s not to love? I <3 NY is not a sentiment instituted to fill a void. In fact, it is the exact opposite. New Yorkers don’t love it here or the “nights of our lives” that come with it because they’re single and trying to cope… On the contrary, those are the simply the folks who look at their reality from a place of gratitude.

The only love poem I’ve written that received any substantial feedback was entitled, “On the streets of my City.” Coincidence? No. It’s the first time I’ve conquered the emotional Olympiad of what it means to love. To look at someone [or in this case, somewhere] not for who or what you wish it to be but for who they [actually] are- ugly parts and all- and love them for it, wholly. I love my blackberry, I love my city, and while at the fucking Boom Boom Room, I decided to love myself… plus or minus one. Thus achieving an actual life goal here.

Bottom Line: Judging myself less. Loving myself more. Mainly because it’s easier and easier is fun and fun is what life is meant to be like.

Next Up:  TBD… what would it take for the universe to send me a date that I don’t have to hunt for?

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

So Snuggie and I had a romantic evening of screenplay writing at a coffee shop and later watching our guilty pleasure, Twilight: Eclipse. In between my night out and my night in, I made a very masochistic pit stop: Union Square Park. So many gentlemen holding flowers waiting for their tardy significant others made me smile. Then comes the masochism.

I walked behind the arch, near the big, possibly oak tree (but I’m not a botanist,) to the dent in the dirt, where tables and chairs usually are in the summer. To the exact spot where I first met Shady. I glanced over at the red “W” hotel sign, and had a flash back that was worthy of a Blockbuster Rom-Com. Looking at the pile of dirt, I still could see him slouched over staring at his sneakers— only to jump up for a hug when I approached him.

The flashback concluded, I became present in the actual moment of an unusually warm winter night. Ironically, the day we met was an unusually hot day, even for the summer. Staring at the pile of dirt where the chair and the man once stood, I felt compelled to put flowers or a rock or a note or something. After all, telling someone “Forget you know my name” is as final as it gets. Noticing that my pockets were empty, I realized that I gave enough to Shady and to everyone. This should be much less dramatic and infinitely easier.

After a pensive and emotional five minutes of staring at a pile of dirt like a well-dressed homeless person in Union Square, I walked to the train and left. Clenching a fist as tight as possible for five minutes straight and then letting go… as each finger expands outwards on it’s own the pins and needles, the tightness, the awkward mobility of freedom. Men are not pre-sale tickets for Florence and the Machine at Summer Stage… and even those are not gone forever because there’s still regular sale.

Really supportive male friends, unknowing of my dramatic funeral for a lover lost, reached out on their own accord. Volunteering advice that ranged from listening to Alanis Morisette- extra loud and on repeat, to a list of 10 reasons why I should be appreciated, to my personal favorite:

PERSONALLY, [I] think you need to learn to get over these guys. They definitely won’t come to you if they see this intensity you have about making a relationship work…and I mean it in the way of, you need to treat these as fun, and accept any range of results. I feel like ultimately you have ownership of yourself, you’re confident, you’re certainly not desperate and yet when dating comes around you seem to lose your center.

Between advice and Eclipse, two things were certain. Edward Cullen is a fictional character and I need to be myself while not judging/puking/judging myself for puking. If I can maintain best friendships with a laundry list of guys, then it’s not me that’s the issue. What’s the value of not showing up as me? What is this pattern of unawareness and fear I’m living in? What can I do with it? How can I change it?

Bottom Line: It’s me but it’s not me but it’s something I can work on…(it’s me.)

Next Up: TBD

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

I’ve recently admitted to myself that I am in fact addicted to social media. There burns an artificial fire of a “need” to check people’s Facebooks, Twitter feeds, or google them to see what other member’s only site info I can dig up. It’s like this sick obsession with being a viral Nancy Drew.

It all started in grammar school. Yes, I know social media didn’t exist back then but if I would have been infinitely more popular if it had. I always knew everyone’s name, place of origin, and at least two to three random facts about everyone in my class at all times. People didn’t like me, they didn’t want to tell me their secrets, they thought I was a “know it all” or a “busy body.” All because I was just fascinated by people and their stories.

Getting older, the advent of Facebook changed my image amongst all peers and colleagues. Mainly because all the “facts” that were exclusive to me are now published, neatly on a profile page voluntarily. (Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg.) It’s not “weird” to know that much about people you don’t actually know. The problem is now I am compelled to “take it up another notch.” There’s no marvel, mystery, excitement on getting to “know” someone new anymore because there is no work involved.

I’ve recently acquired a stalker via my twitter account. He’s from Pakistan, resides in Palo Alto, and comments on my every tweet. This dude has tracked down my youtube, facebook, and personal website. All because he feels like he “knows” me via my twitter persona. This is highly flattering since I do have an exceptionally hilarious tweeter feed but its hardly the entire package. It’s a small colored square of my rubix cube of a personality. I’m not complaining- it’s great to have fans. The moral of the story here is: two of the easiest components of getting to know someone these days thanks to social media are factoids and sex.

The question is no longer how they they like it. What’s your favorite ____? Or even what tax bracket you’re in… but honestly, what else is there? Energy. Bare with me here, it’s not what you know or how you do it its about how they take you in energetically. My addiction to social media really just fills a void… the void of being distant, the fear of being sucked in and spit out. It’s almost like a reality of make believe/made up of facts and truths that are easily fabricated and subjective.

So people don’t call me “nosy” or “Yenta” anymore. Knowing a little bit about a lot of people is no longer taboo. With that out there, what would it take for the Facebook message to morph back into the phone call? What would a talk until sunrise without preconceived notions look like? What if I didn’t change my twitter status more often than I change my underwear?

Bottom Line: I’m hitting refresh on a Facebook page for 25 minutes only to realize it’s not a real person. He didn’t call… hitting refresh won’t change that. My satin panties, snuggie, and DVD of Twilight: Eclipse still can a Happy Valentine’s Day make…

Next Up: … not going to lead you guys on. What would it take for the universe to deliver an expansive partner that I’ve been asking for?

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

Why Tom Hanks? Because leading up to this date was a month of the all time greatest discourse I’ve been given the pleasure of partaking. Smart, funny, expansive (we’re talking Kafka jokes about my snuggie obsession) and all through FB Chat! All of this witty and exciting build up and here we are, finally meeting again in person for the first time since September, at the ACE Hotel in Midtown.

Coming from a networking event, I was already dressed appropriately with a feather in my hair… adorably humorous texts about how “Hipster Hogwarts is hoppin’” lead up to me at the door of the bar, being told they’re “at capacity.” Some drunk guy gave me a cupcake and then moments after swallowing, a man more gorgeous and stylish than I remember walks out of the door to have a cigarette and hugs me like we’ve known each other for years. “It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person.” It was the nicest hug I’ve received in a while. That and he’s the funniest person I’ve ever been on a date with and I’ve been on a lot of freaking dates.

When there wasn’t a place to sit, Tom Hanks went across the room to bring me over a chair. He loves white wines. He grew up in Europe. He’s as passionate and busy with work as I am… and he’s celibate. I was a little drunk at this point, so I initially thought he was kidding. If I had eaten since breakfast or not had that third glass of wine, or for Christ sakes thought before I spoke the giggling, “Stop it!” might not have been my response.

What Tom Hanks still doesn’t know is that I’m digging it. I know what you’re all thinking… “but Joneshaw, I thought you were a total nympho?!” and yes, you thought right. Please, throw back with me a second to Hot Beard, who collected playing cards off of the street a la Berger from SATC… One time years ago I found an eight of hearts in the street and kept it. The minute I picked it up, I thought “that’s how many people I’m going to sleep with.” Crazy. I know. But true. ESP.

How would knowing I have a “cap” for my sexual exploits make a celibate guy feel better? Well, because Shady Parkstein was number 7. That means the next person I’m going to sleep with will be my last. Finito. Dunzo. Closing up shop. I do not want to waste that on a one night stand or something that doesn’t work out. Its required to test the waters for sometime before I have sex again. All facts considered, unless George Clooney propositions me in the near future, it’s probably going to be a while before I have sex again, by choice.

But no, I did not share this nugget of a gem with this winner of the genetic lottery I was sipping wine with… that might have scored me brownie points. Instead, I went home with him, made out in his bed, and puked in front of him (3 glasses of wine + empty stomach + 108 lbs of Joneshaw will do that.) He then continued making out with me until in a horny, drunken, haze I made him feel uneasy about maintaining his celibacy. This made him go and sleep on the couch. All things considered, this was not a cute look for me.

In my hangover migraine, my first thought waking up was “shit, I’d never call me again after this.” And he over heard me telling an old friend/the waitress last night that I’m living with my parents. The next morning I did my un-PC impression of a homeless man while he walked me to the train which made him laugh as he hugged me good bye. I thanked him “exponentially” and went home. I text him “thanks again, have a good day at work.” Never to get a response. 

Some girls get upset and ask, “Why am I still single?” I don’t ask that question because then I remember nights like this one. Baryshnikov, my college boyfriend got puked on by yours truly after our second date, so I must REALLY like Tom Hanks to whip it out on the first… too bad he didn’t really like me enough to call me… after all was said and done with Shady, the first thing that came to my mind was… “Yes! Now I can follow up with Tom Hanks from months ago!” Figures, I’d blow it.

As a consolation prize for puking in front of him I offered him a freelance design job for my company… because I’m classy like that. I figured getting someone a combined total of $25k worth of work **might** make them forget you puked on your first date. We’ll see…

Bottom Line: You win some, you lose some, you puke on some… I think his celibacy is hot in an Edward Cullen sorta way. Regardless of how this turns out I’ll still let him be the happy ending character in the movie. He’s that good looking.

Next Up: Possibly some weirdo who likes Bordeaux from howaboutwe.com… I might give okChlamydia… errr, okCupid another try… we’ll see.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

My company had a NYE party in a fabulous Manhattan eatery. My childhood, BFF was my date and then she ditched me after the ball dropped to meet up with her “smush buddy” a few blocks away. I hung around with my boss and her smush buddy to then go on to the St. Jimmy and then Greenhouse. The entire night, I was the only one flying solo. I made the most of it and had fun and in a drunk haze had a text exchange with Shady.

Nancy Drew is kid stuff compared to the online trail this guy leaves it’s incredible. Turns out he didn’t ditch me for his ex, she’s dating some Asian guy… he’s now dating a former client of his. They went to some Russian shin-dig in Coney Island while I was getting VIP comps like crazy all over the city. How did I know who his NYE date was? Simple, the pictures of the crazy-tranny looking performers that he text me from his NYE party were the same one’s this chick posted in videos to her facebook this morning. Really, smooth Shady. Not to mention, why am I getting texts from you when you’re on a date with someone else?

Last time I saw Shady, I gave him a gingerbread cookie for his young niece because when I met her she had basically fallen in love with me (I am quite the child whisperer.) This is only relevant because after he was texting me updates from his last night on New Year’s Day… his little niece was then texting me from his phone for an hour and a half. Adorable to say the least but wtf, Shady?! This is all kinds of un-smooth and effed up, to say the least. I don’t think Bill ever sent Hillary pictures of his dinners he shared with Monica. This is entirely weak game from a sloppy liar.

Also, since this is not the first time I have come across this other chick’s profile on FB… another observation was the night before the most awkward concert ever, she took “single” off of her profile. It’s still blank but not “single.” Shady, on the other hand never listed a relationship status. In spite of his sloppiness, I have been slick in getting three prospective dates lined up so far in the New Year.

Bottom Line: There is no secrets from me. If I worked for the FBI, CIA, or Secret Service we would have found all the terrorists already and their past 3 girlfriends/wives. Also, some one forgot to tell Shady that as far as clients go, no sex in the Champagne Room if you want them to stay clients…

Next Up: First up, will be Tom Hanks. This is the dig that Shady doesn’t see coming… the night Shady introduced me to all his friends and we then proceeded to go to his office and do the nasty on his employee’s desk, I got a card from an attractive, bold gentleman. He and Shady don’t know each other but they share a mutual friend and have the same job, except Tom Hanks is four years more mature and has reached out to me several times since September but now that I’m finally dunzo with Shady, I’ve accepted his invitation.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

Basically, Shady Parkstein, everyone’s favorite date, turned out to be Shady for real. He bailed on my show, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, has made “other plans” for NYE and has bailed on almost every other date we’ve planned this month.

Last time we hung out was December 7th when I took him to see Dashboard Confessionals my all-time favorite band. He slept through the three openers, and wouldn’t stand closer than 3 feet of personal space during the entire set while also incessantly checking his phone and then borrowed my phone when his died because he had work drama to deal with the ENTIRE time he wasn’t being rude and sleeping. 

The nights of being wined and dined, ELK, and jokes of marriage are a thing of the past. Especially when photos surfaced of him spending Christmas Eve with his ex-girlfriend and her family (the gross chick who’s 12 years older than me that I tweeted about.) Also, found that he has an active “OkCupid” profile where he describes himself as a “selfish prick.” Funny, he never mentioned that little gem on howaboutwe…

It looks like this guy was straight up leading a double life and liked the other one better. Part of this was shock of the century and the other part explains the “confusing” stuff of prior months to be blatant lies. Ironically, on his okCupid personality richter he’s -48.5% less trusting than average. Usually people who lie a lot are less trusting because they don’t trust themselves. 

Also interesting on his okCupid was that he was only interested in “Friends, Activity Partners, and Short-Term Dating” which means when he said he wanted what I wanted… ::gasp:: it was a LIE. I’m not really mad despite the tone of this blog and I don’t even think less of him as a person. Liars and mediocre sex happen to good people every day. Now I know and knowledge is power. Lady Gaga tickets and the sexcation to the Bahamas in my name, not his, is also power.

Bottom Line: The Shady Parade has came and went… fun dates, lots of sex, but liars are never keepers.

Next Up: My office is having a NYE gala that I’m probably bringing a girl friend as a date to… also started using howaboutwe again and am taking up one of Shady’s friend’s offers to be fixed up with a “nice guy who’s not crazy.” Stay tuned! :)

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

To my loyal followers, I’m very sorry for the Houdini act… I usually leave that role to the dudes I chase after. Let’s bring it all to the present and talk about what I know you all want to hear about….

                                                  Shady

Yes, it’s still happening. It’s now been four months. We’ve integrated friend circles. He’s met my parents. He’s “joked” that he wants to marry me for various reasons. He’s initiated attempts to set up our friends and go on double dates. We’ve been able to see each other more than once a week. Sounds great until he gets all squirrly about what our title is. Obviously, I’m his girlfriend and he has no probling acting like a boyfriend… words for this great thing we have going here freak him out and get him acting all weird. 

His friends love me. My parents love him. We have fun together. Never has their been an argument or fight. We’ve clarified that the sex is exclusive. Other friends of his and of mine have called him my boyfriend. What would it take for him to jump on the cart and enjoy the hay ride? (It is fall after all.)

We have plans for a fabulous Thanksgiving Eve tomorrow night and this weekend he’s in for a huge surprise! Since, being the good untitled girl friend that I am, I hired a cleaning service to come and hose down the squalor he calls a bachelor pad. Why the gesture you ask? Because in spite of his quirks, flaws, and ambivalence, I am extremely thankful to have met Prince Shady. There was a point many posts ago where I thought I would run out of eligible dates before I found a prospect for a relationship. It’s far from perfect but it’s real and I’m afraid and ready to receive whatever it brings.

Another thing I learned from this new-age thing called “Access Consciousness” is that if you ask something of the universe and remove all judgment between you and what makes that something possible, the result is infinite possibilities. If you have an open mind check it out for sure!

As for Shady, I think he’ll come around eventually. I’m perplexed by his sentiment but not necessarily worried. It feels good to be back.

Bottom Line: Shady ordered the Fillet Mignon Rare and is now worried that it might be safer to order his meat well done but in the mean time is still chowing down on the beef.

Next Up: Maybe some royalty will stop by and dub this union with an official title before the next post!

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

So there were two other dates I’ve been putting off writing about since my “whatever-you-call-limbo-phase-of-an-almost-maybe-relationship.” Just bringing you guys up to speed as to why they did not help take my mind off of Shady.

First we had Tinker. He was a nice guy when it came to sharing dinner conversation that focused entirely on our shared professional field. Poor Tinker seemed also a little to effeminate in his “-isms” and communication style for my type. Great restaurant, he paid, never heard from again. Later that night and well into the next morning, I cried because this date was clearly not attracted to me on a “date” level. This made me miss Shady SO MUCH!

Then we were graced with the cynical presence of SameName. If you’re wondering why the pseudonym, it’s because him and Shady in life, have THE SAME NAME. Well this looks like it’s going to be 110% UNPRODUCTIVE already, I can tell. SameName was super LATE, unapologetic, snobby (not in a cute way), braggy, impatient, and rude. He also had the delusion that we would be able to walk into the Boom Boom Room at the Standard. I lied and said that if I missed the 11:30pm bus, I’d have no way to get home. I then cried, yet again, about HOW MUCH BETTER SHADY IS THAN THESE LOSERS.

After two horrible dates and too many tears, I decided to take a break from dating new people. Actions speak louder than words and right now I’m not acting like I want that relationship I talked to him about. Finally, I realized that all this time I’ve been giving emotionally unavailable guys a pretty bum rep and it was all unjustified. If you consistently find emotionally unavailable guys its because some part of you is that way, too. 

The ironic part of that ironic epiphany is that you’re emotionally unavailable because you’re afraid of being hurt but being that way brings only more hurt than being vulnerable and open. Being emotionally available, open, and upfront with your prospective partner and your feelings is probably the most vindicating solution to all of these problems. Then once you accept this truth and put it into practice you can get to thinking, “If this is so great, how can it get any better?” Don’t answer the question though, because that’s the trick to staying emotionally available: being open to limitless possibilities. The answer to happiness in a relationship is not about finding all the right answers, moves, outfits, and dates. Its about asking the right questions, only to keep asking more. That’s how you get exactly what you always wanted and more.

Bottom Line: I am basically the pot calling the kettle black.

Next Up: Two upcoming posts about Shady!

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

So I know I promised two more dates… They’re on their way. I really need to get a retraction and an explanation off my chest. Taking the advice of my Music Theatre homeboys, Rogers & Hammerstein, “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.” For those of you who haven’t already figured it out, I have some anxiety and trust issues. The biggie that I’m trying to work on is the beginning of intimacy and trusting someone new. It’s a long bumpy road and I’m clearly not driving the Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang car, so it’s a continuous effort and process to move forward at a reasonable pace without dissecting each and every traffic signal that just might happen to be very standard for a slow country road in these parts.  

In response to a previous reader comment: there was a month of courting before things moved forward physically. Being an unapologetic feminist, I find it offensive that a woman who likes sex and test driving the car before she signs the lease is deemed “easy.” Furthermore, I feel that “waiting” or withholding the goods from a hopefully serious suitor is immature game play that treats sex like an award or trophy to be had instead of an intimate exchange between two equals. Chastity is not a gift or way to measure value or “hook” a potential boyfriend. What’s to stop him from dumping you right after you have sex with him as his girlfriend, anyway? I know some people’s mothers might have told them “Why buy the milk when you can have the cow for free?” but I’m from New York City, the only suckers who own cows here are petting zoos and whether you have a coupon or get ripped off at a bodega, you have to buy milk sometime. Also, I pride myself in not being compared to livestock or flowers with petals dropped every time you have sex.  

Dropping the trademark metaphors for one second… It turns out, when Shady said he was feeling under the weather and went to bed early, he was telling the truth. He even proceeded to apologize again the next day for missing my call because he had really gone to bed early and inquire if I wanted to hang out the following night. He even accommodated my schedule and met me in Brooklyn when I got off of work for dinner. He then proceeded to make an announced and conscious effort to walk towards our destination in-step together, while he had his arm around my waist. He tells me things like, “You always look good whenever I see you… it’s as if it’s effortless for you.” Or my personal favorite in the middle of the crowded restaurant, “I want to cuddle you.” Men who are playing you don’t say that loud and proud in public and then follow up with wanting to be a part of your ten-year plan—they just don’t.

Shady made good on his cuddle-want back at his place while watching Mad Men on DVR. “Usually, I fast-forward through the commercials but I really want an excuse to make-out with you.” Then as things moved forward in the evening, he asked if I’d lean over and close the shades, only to PHYSICALLY start kissing my ass. After everything I’ve been through with meaningless dates and traumatic experiences and Mr. Dinges I was being my own worst enemy here. I was sabotaging the first chance I’ve had at a really good relationship. Body language to gestures to even giving me the low-down of his upcoming West Coast Trip, Shady was acting like things are moving forward.

My therapist hit the nail on the head, “You like to skip the beginning phases of things.” Funny thing about that is a house with no foundation eventually sinks into the dirt. I want my prospective relationship with Shady to be built on Limestone and since Rome wasn’t built in a day, each little headache does not mean the walls and framework come tumbling down. With all this worrying and over-analyzing I realized I am totally jipping myself of the “honeymoon phase” of this relationship—the part where you’re supposed to have fun and enjoy each other and be nauseatingly cute and rose-coloring each other silly.

Here it is guys, I’m taking a stand.  A stand against myself. Against getting in the way of my own happiness. I’m at the point where the options are extremely clear. Either test the water on your toe and go back to your lounge chair alone OR brave the chill and jump in with the hopes your body will adjust to the temperature change and enjoy the swim. Taking a step back and checking in with the “facts” aka the things that actually happened that I didn’t stumble upon and make assumptions about, point to him still playing the A-game and me playing the nut job.

Bottom Line: I’m still a fan of Shady if you guys are…

Next Up: Do you guys even want to hear about new dates 10 and 11? They were pretty heinous. For serious.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

I’m very sorry to all my readers that I stopped blogging for a while. Things got confusing. Basically, this post is to play “catch up.” Shady started out like my dream come true. We went on three more dates. We finally spanked the monkey. There was a lot of confusion in between all of those events. Irregular hangout and contact patterns. I found a makeup bag and additional pink tooth brush in his bathroom. I found evidence that the reason he was acting weird on my birthday at the end of the night was because he had to leave and meet his booty call. Then I said I was looking for a relationship and he agreed he wanted the same thing and we agreed to “take it slow” and “see where things go.” To put it simply, the name “Shady” now has new meaning.

The name started because of his reply to my howaboutwe.com date proposal. I proposed we eat at a gourmet meal truck and share our spoils at a shady park. His reply, “You had me at Shady Park.” I almost deleted the message because it was so friggen corny. Then my friend went through my responses as I was about to delete my account and now I had a date with Shady.

Out of the many dates I went on, this was the only one to not end at a first date. Unfortunately, it turned out that Shady’s M.O. was the same as all the “Ghosts of Boyfriends Past.” He’d shtoop me and ignore me. My worst fears and neuroses were actualized: he is just like every other guy.

No offense to ugly girls but I seriously envy you all. You don’t have these problems. No one wants to sleep with you just so they can brag about it to all their friends. Actually, most of the ugly girls I know have had more boyfriends and notches on the bedpost than me by ten-fold, at least. I can’t wrap my head around why but 90% of the guys I’ve been with have done this to me: ignore me after we’ve done the deed. I’ve gotten good reviews so I know its not a performance issue. They all just lie that they want the same thing as me and drop me after they get the goods.

I wanted to start this project to expand my horizons and how I met guys. Thinking it was the circle of guys I was surrounding myself with that led to these repeat conclusions. So far no dice… I have a few dates to write about also that I went on to “get my mind off of Shady” but every time I went out with someone else, I just wanted Shady all the more. He seemed so much more desirable by comparison. I really had my heart set on this one.

Then tonight, a half hour after we were supposed to touch base, I’m ready to leave and looking fab, I officially was bailed on by him via text, “splitting headache.” When I tried to call, he didn’t answer. To say the least, I’m devastated. I really liked him and wanted so badly to believe him and put my neurotic anxiety to rest that I can finally believe someone.

I’m sorry this isn’t that funny, guys. I promise my next two dates will be. This whole Shady thing really took the wind out of my blogging sails for a bit. I just take being lied to so personally. Especially when you’re given the “Get out of Jail free card” by me asking, “What are you looking for?” and you bullshit and say you want a relationship, too. 

Bottom Line:  Shady’s name was quite the foreshadowing. Getting hurt sucks monkey balls. Getting bailed on sucks even more. God, it’s good to be back.

Next Up: Dates with Tinker and SameName.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

As planned the dress said, “OMG, Look at me… because I’m fabulous.” It was a perfect cocktail dress creation that had a corset top, tutu bottom, champagne lace throughout with a black lack panel at the waist adorned with a perfect satin bow. It was loud and it was my perfect birthday dress.

Twenty five of my nearest and dearest friends, including Shady and his male friend, Party Bud, were in attendance at The Anchor in SoHo. Everyone then chipped in throughout the night for a bottle. Everyone, that is, except Shady and Party Bud. It might have been a misunderstanding because I was pretty toasted when he got there and neglected to tell him we were chipping in for it. Regardless, Shady offered to buy me a drink when he first arrived but my bottle had already been served.

Shady and Party Bud made small talk and won over two of my best friends, Haitian and H.S. Femme, giving Shady a plus two in the pro-column.  For most of the night, Shady was right by my side and undoubtedly my date. He complimented my dress, he danced when I wanted to dance, sat when I wanted to sit, graciously greeted every guest I introduced him to, and then came the end of the evening.

The posse had dwindled down to my sister, her BF, Shady, and me. I drunkenly suggested we go on to another place. My sister and her BF bowed out and Shady agreed to continue on with me. My feet hurt from the 5 inches of fabulous I was wearing on my feet so Shady carried me two blocks piggy-back to his car.  Before his car even turn the corner, Shady claimed he was tired and suggested I didn’t need any more to drink and should get in a cab. “After carrying me two blocks, you want me to get in a cab? No. You’re driving me to the ferry. I could have split a cab with my sister and her boyfriend but I wanted to spend more time with you.” Shady said he wanted to spend more time with me, too and drove me to the ferry.

I was already suspicious of Shady’s motives but this is really perplexing. He shmoozes friends like he’s running for office and then pulls a bait and switch at the end of the night…What gives? My trust issues with men lead me to believe Shady’s name is being given new meaning. Especially when I suggested on the way to the ferry we hang out on Monday and got a “We’ll see” as a response. For someone who initially wanted to have the first three dates in three days, this is quite a break from Shady’s usual M.O.

Bottom Line: I had friends calling, texting, and emailing the next day about how much fun they had at my party! Shady didn’t ruin things but he did confuse the hell out of me. My untrusting default instincts are telling me to use this as an excuse to drop him… but my mature adult logic is telling me all will be revealed in due time.

Next Up:  Date FOUR with Shady… and maybe another date thrown in there so I don’t get my hopes up or carried away.

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

Reservations were for 9 pm. I was five minutes early and he was five minutes fashionably late. I was twittering about our date and jumped out of my skin when he snuck up behind me to say hello. Mostly out of terror that he might have caught a peak at what I wrote. Thank God, he didn’t. As per the rules, the Project is still a secret to Shady. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” I assured him that it was my fault for not being more attentive. I then proceeded to walk into two door frames on the way to our table. Grace was not exactly my middle name (especially when I’m nervous) but instead of pointing that out, he complimented my beautiful dress.

We sat in the garden at Dumont Restaurant. Something about the candle light, real foliage, open air, soft jazz, and heavenly food make it such a terrific place for a third date. Amidst talking about family, private vs. public school, work, and how Shady likes to share “loaded bites” when offering a taste of his dinner, we played his trademark footsie under the table. I’ve never liked someone this much before sleeping with them. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely want him but I also really enjoy getting to know him first.

After dessert, Shady paid and walked me to my car. I then drove him to his car a block away. The evening concluded with a long lusty good-bye in my car (yet another Shady trademark.) Things were getting hot and heavy while still staying in high-school speed territory. That is, until Shady invited me back to his place. I declined citing that I had to work extremely early the next day. He pointed out that he lives closer to the next day’s job site. “Shady, I’m not saying ‘not ever’ I am saying ‘not tonight.’” Things started to continue down Hot and Heavy Boulevard when he asked if we can park down another street. “Sorry, but I have to be up really early tomorrow.”

Finally taking my hint, Shady takes his cue to leave. As he reaches for the car door, I get a rush of confidence and invite him to my birthday party.  “I’m having a birthday party Friday and congratulations you get to meet all of my best friends!” Shady smiled and said that he’ll be there. “Big Step in the Forward Direction Award” goes to The Joneshaw Project. I’ve gone three dates without hopping into the sack with this guy and instead I’m incorporating him into my social circle (without a kicking and screaming Shady.)

As much as this night ended on a good note, my inner paranoia is still baffled by the situation and unsure of his intentions. Is he pulling out all the stops in hopes of starting a relationship or is he just a player with a more expendable budget? It’s so hard not to read into every last detail when you’re starting to like someone with your feelings before your fancy parts. This is a terrifying, vulnerable span of uncharted territory to map and navigate and unfortunately, Sacajawea was not available to guide this tour.  We’re at the point where only time will tell what the other coast looks like.

Bottom Line: Gave Shady a cold shower, metaphorically speaking, and decided to give him the best friend test-run. I’m scared of getting hurt again but braving forward regardless.

Next Up:  My Birthday Bash!!!

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw 

So my good friend, Sassy, recently moved into this GORGEOUS and FABULOUS pre-war apartment with cathedral ceilings and hard wood floors in Brooklyn. To celebrate this gem of a find we of course, had a rocking party. She had a calypso band, wine, booze, food, and her sexy Cuban and Chilean roommates up on the buffet.  If you ever wanted to know what Heidi Klum went through at parties pre-Seal, be a single lady at a party with these guys. These exotic studs made flirting rise to Olympic sport caliber.

Enjoying the company of good friends at a good party equals a fantastic oasis from a week full of stress. Bonus points for throwing in some positive male attention for good measure. Then somewhere after we all shook our bon-bon’s and the calypso band retired, first word got out… the super-hot Cuban, Eric Bana look-a-like smelled like he didn’t shower and was hitting on everyone. Next up, my little Chilean cutie grabbed my hand. Only for me to feel a wedding ring on his left hand! “Where’s your wife?” Like any philandering husband would say, “Don’t worry, very far away from here!”

Last time I checked if you’re married in Chile you’re still married when you’re getting your PhD in the United States. I was disgusted to say the least. It only got worse when the rest of the Latin Invasion started dropping like dominoes. THEY WERE ALL MARRIED. Especially with my recent unapologetic confession from Mr. Dinges, it really worries me to see so many men with so little reverence for monogamy. Are all men roving sluts? Is a serious, exclusive relationship still a realistic wish to have?

It’s bad enough that I always assume men’s default is sex with no strings attached but to see this very disgusting display of disregard for marriage vows is disheartening. I want to think that exclusivity is still possible and that vulnerability is something I can work to not fear forever. I have a third date with Shady coming up and once you get up to dates three and four, it’s usually when I start looking for RUN AWAY NOW flags.

 I truly want to go into this as open as possible and not create presuppositions from other men’s actions. So far, as much as I’m afraid to admit it, I do like him. Enough to want something more than a wham-bam-thank-you- ma’am, casual sex situation. There really is a fine line between looking for signs he wants a girlfriend and over-analyzing.

Bottom Line: Monogamy is important to me. Hopefully, a few good men—outside of the movie, my dad, and Santa Clause exist to make that happen for me, too.

Next Up: Date THREE with Shady!!! And my Birthday Party!!!!! :)

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

Due to all of my anxiety, I showed up ten minutes early. Then in a slight panic of having to wait alone in a bar full of suits, the terrific idea to wander around a nearby home décor store for fifteen minutes strikes and off I go. Checking out every mirror they have on display. Pacing like I belong in a hospital waiting room. Praying to Jesus, “to please stop me from sweating profusely.” Reapplying yet another shade of lip gloss.

Strolling back in a more confident five minutes late, I see Shady sitting at a bar table already with a drink. Like a typical, self-sabotaging, awkward fish, I do not go in for the hug he seemed to be leaning towards. He then ordered me a cocktail and I was so angst ridden, I forgot to pretend to try and pay. Slow to start but swift to land we’re back to joking and connecting in no time. Another round of cocktails later and I’m even letting him into my personal space and place his hand on my knee. 

After finishing the second round, the unthinkable happens. He offers to take me to dinner. So off in a cab we go. My guilt of actually liking him has me insist on paying for the $8 dollar cab ride from Chelsea to Greenwich Village. Then…Get ready for it. This is huge. I was then whisked away to Employees’ Only; where I was wined and dined just like a scene out of SATC. It was a scene and be seen place with a doorman, guest list, and ELK. That’s right I had the ELK, which complimented my “Billionaire Cocktail” very nicely.

Aside from the ambiance, the footsie under the table, and the food that seemed like it all stepped out of a wet dream, Shady told me all about his time in art school. This is paramount; dating a creative that is not in the same field. Passionate, articulate, and clearly making an investment in more than just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sort of evening. He even brought up for exchange: philosophies on kids, family, career, and priorities. Shady’s pulling out all the stops and to say I’m enjoying the ride (or the ELK) for that matter would be the understatement of the century. In case you were wondering… when farm-raised, Elk tastes like a less-gamey cross between Venison and Filet Mignon (YUM.)

After the amazing and heavenly caramel with peanut brittle dessert we were off to yet another place! This time we walked to The Room… and magically my favorite beer, Delirium Tremens, was on tap. Yes, Mr. Shady was informed of this being my favorite beer on our previous date. Smooth. I then had to go to the bathroom and took this opportunity to call my friend, Ms. M, and thank her for picking out such a winner. She then reminded me that it’s best not to hop in the sack with this catch of a guy that I’m starting to really like.

Following her advice, Shady and I make out in the bar and in front of the bodega on the corner and in the backseat of the cab where he brought me to my bus stop (because I wouldn’t let him take me home.) Even the slightly tipsy admission of, “I’m not going home with you tonight because I think I might like you more than that, if that makes sense…” was received with a warm smile and a “that makes perfect sense.” This was then followed by yet even more frisky behavior in the back of the cab but Ms. M’s advice was still completely followed. There were not goods given up in the making of this blog.

There was then the sweet, “You’re driving me crazy” as I announced my exit from the cab. “Then you should probably call me tomorrow. “ Not to my surprise, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” The next day I received a mid-work day text from “The Boss” wanting to see me again that night. Unfortunately, I had already RSVP’d to my good friend, Sassy’s house warming party (non-date #5!)

Bottom Line: Howaboutwe.com is so far my favorite dating site. Super into Shady but glad we get a breather until Tuesday because I’m afraid of things moving too fast like my last failed relationship.  Sometimes having a friend go through your online dating matches is a brilliant idea. Apparently, I really into Shady and ELK.

Next Up: Non-Date #5 and third date with Shady!!!!!

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw

Too bad Rockapella didn’t sing the theme song for this one; it would have made this date more bearable.  Where in the world is MysteRio? The Portuguese-Brazilian hottie who reinvented the rules of howaboutwe.com to “I like your proposed date… Now let me take you on a totally different date I thought up myself dot com.” Then when the European Café-style restaurant he proposed turned out to be closed until 5:30, he kindly text me that he will meet me at a Starbucks, three blocks away, ten minutes after we were supposed to meet. Why didn’t he just wait at the restaurant for me to arrive and tell me in person? That is for a greater mind to decipher.

Walking around TriBeCa with this winner of the genetic lottery, (tall, dark, handsome… did I mention he was from the same place as Giselle?) MysteRio decides it best to wander around until we find a place to eat that’s more “neighborhoodie.” Yes, he invented a cutesy word with an “-ie” ending. Please. Shoot me now. We then stumble upon the Greenwich St. Pub for some Panini, awkward small talk about day jobs, family, sports, and typical first date talk ensues.  He did have the most beautiful honey brown eyes and luscious, full lips I have ever seen on a specimen, too bad both were noticeably vacant.

Suddenly, I get a text from Shady with another one of our adorable inside jokes… this one’s about Shady hijacking the Batmobile and meeting me at 7 in Chelsea. A tickle of nerves runs down my back like someone walked over my grave when I saw that it was 5:45. I always do have an escape route but this needs to be swift. I clearly was not digging MysteRio as much as I was Shady but the guilt of actually having someone buy me food and converse during afternoon hours was preventing me from a full-on dine and dash.  

I have this bizarre, feminist-independence complex that makes me highly uncomfortable when men pay for everything. It’s very traditional, chivalrous, and cost-effective (especially since I’m broke) to let them just pay. The mind-screw, self-sabotage lies in the fact that now that they’ve paid for dinner, I “owe” them something. Like there’s this invisible tab in space and if it sways too much in the wrong direction, that means I’m using someone. My therapist reiterates to me that in dating, unlike paid escorting, people can “treat” you because they want to and if it doesn’t work out that’s okay. No one is paying me for my time or services, least of all in bar Panini.

After wandering around TriBeCa for another half-hour we parted ways and I walked him to the PATH Train… oh, yeah. EW! He lives in New Jersey; didn’t find that gem out until the date was almost over either. Then after we hugged and just before we parted ways, MysteRio tells me that, “I know a lot more about your profession that I initially lead on and I really think what you’re doing is great. I had a really nice time.” I smiled and waved awkwardly then power-walked away as fast as my little legs can carry me. This guy was strange thus far but thank God he saved that last tidbit until our departure because it was down-right creepy.

Power walking and not stopping until I reached the A train. I would then transition my makeup and hair from day to night, with intense train-make up applying skill, preparing for my second date with Shady. I quickly dismissed my date with MysteRio quicker than it happened only to realize, I was caring an exorbitant amount about my make up right now. I changed my lipstick color three times and then took an extra step to smudge on black eye liner. I stopped in every reflective surface between the train and the Black Door to make sure I wasn’t too sweaty. Holy Batman! For the first time since high school, I was nervous for this upcoming date but in a really good way.

Bottom Line: MysteRio was hot but not the whole enchilada. Thank goodness my anxiety disorder is better managed now than it was in high school. The last time I got this worked up over a guy, I gave myself hives all over my chest. Typically, not the most ideal second date look.

Next Up:  Part II of my dating double header, followed by a non-date adventure!

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw