Little Peach in the Big Apple

So, my second Friday night in the city, and again, I am tired. Going out Thursday night and working all day Friday really wiped me out. Apparently being 27 is rough. I used to be able to hang and go out every night, but these days it is less than easy to be a functioning drunk. Blast!

So anyway, in homage to Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big, I thought I would bring up my own Mr. Big. We'll call him Mr. President. Mr. President is the President of a major company. I met him in Atlanta at a bar called Blakes, and when I met him, he was dating a model in NYC. Go figure. After hanging out with him for a while, I finally got him to break up with his model boyfriend and start dating me. However, being completely messed up in the head, the second I got him to break up with his model and start dating me, I completely lost interest. Classy right?

Anyway, Mr. President has a place in Atlanta (where we met) and a place here in NYC. He splits time between both cities for work. So Mr. President calls and asks if I want to grab a drink Friday night. So, I think we are friends, and since I am new to the city, and I don't have a zillion friends yet, I need all of the friends I can get. So, as tired as I am, I rally, shower, and get ready to meet him. We go to a bar around the corner from my apartment called Posh. The clientle was pretty unfortunate looking, however, the music was great. Now, Mr. President is extremely touchy-feely, which is totally opposite of my style. To say I am the antithesis of feelings and emotions is an understatement. So, Mr. President is all over me and kissing my cheek and I tell him to get off of me and to stop touching me. Of course, this offends him as he is European and extremely affectionate. We get into a little fight and I really just want to go home and get in bed. This is when it gets awkward. Mr. President cannot handle his alcohol like I can, and after a couple of martinis, he is kind of drunk. He proceeds to tell me that he is in LOVE with me. And that I broke his heart. So, what do I do? Oh, I laugh in his face. What kind of jerk laughs in someones face when they tell you that they are in love with you? Oh yea, me. Awesome.

Well, after a couple more minutes of awkward silence, we decide to call it a night. He is kind of drunk so I put Mr. President into a cab and send him on his way. I walk home feeling bad because apparently I broke this jokers heart. The odd thing is, he texted me Saturday morning apparently not remembering much from the night before. So, we are back to normal I guess. We shall see what comes of Mr. President ...