As I sit on a train ride to Brooklyn, I think, Why is every get together in Brooklyn? Have the other boroughs just vanished? No need to answer, that was a rhetorical. I look up and see a guy checking himself out. Physically, he is perfect. Jude Law handsome. He knows how good looking he is, which makes him so unbelievably imperfect and unappealing. He’s a banker in midtown but says, “I work on Wall Street.” His office is on 53rd and 6th. He’s a total prep but would never admit it to himself, or others. He rents a one bed room in Williamsburg, just so he can assure himself that he is a true hipster. He constantly talks about buying in New York but knows “it’s not the right time.” He says this as though he’s some genius who came up with the smart conclusion.
I notice him laughing at a text really loud. There isn’t service on this train so I realize he’s one of those people who want others to hear them. The person in the gym who screams when they lift weights and looks around to see who has heard him. He has multiple hooks up and labels girls as #crazy when they show any sort of emotional interest. Most of his women are the Chloe’s, Madison’s and Jo Jo’s. Any cute name from the 90’s. The Lindsay’s and Jessica’s are way too old for him. He’s slept with almost every Charlie or girl with a cutesy “boy name” in Manhattan. He always explains to his bros, “It’s not as though I plan to hook up with Mikey’s, it just happens.”
I can hear him talking now, “Dude, now she’s obsessed with me. I actually thought this one was normal.” They all laugh, but there’s that one good guy who always looks guilty for laughing. He probably has three sisters. “Crazy.” That term thrown around continues to make me fume. There isn’t one man I know who hasn’t at one point said to me on a date, “Yeah, my ex was crazy.” You realize there are other words to describe women, right?
However, his soon-to-be girlfriend is arriving in less than a year. His player days will be history, just like that. She has sweet blue eyes. Not bright or big like Cameron Diaz eyes, just sweet, like Lauren from Ben’s season on The Bachelor. Her hair is naturally brown, but she dyes it blonde to make herself look younger. Really, it makes her look washed out, but her friends are the kind who only tell her what she wants to hear. She’s 31, kinda old for him. He meets, in his words, “Bat shit girls” on rooftop bars but will meet her at the Stumble Inn on 76th Street and Second. I know how the scene plays out.
She’ll be wearing a light green dress and gold strappy sandals and holding a Stella. She answers questions in two words. “How are you?” “I’m good.” She has the personality of my toe and he’s super into it. She just came from her weekly Dry Bar app, so her hair looks #amazing. She wouldn’t dare tell anyone that she gets blow outs so often. I don’t blame Alice. Yes, her name is Alice. Her entire life she went by Allie, then after moving to New York started using her proper name. She’s a PR girl who recently quit Equinox and now only does “Soul Cycle.” She grew up watching Fox News and when forced to talk she tells this story, as if it makes her so different from every other woman in America. “Can you believe I grew up watching Fox News?” Only after two months of dating the “I love you’s” and romantic getaways start. They pretend like they are the first people to have ever taken vacations. They make this very clear on Instagram. “We’re in love with Nantucket. He’s such a keeper #blessed.”
In six months, their relationship will be tested and he’ll have to move to LA. She freaks out. “OMG. California, that’s so far! Oh gosh, he’s gonna forget about me. My life is over- I hate him for taking this job.” But she just says, “Wow, congrats! Guess we’re gonna do the long distance thing.”
Not showing any emotion regarding the move makes him want her more. He ends up renting “the cutest place in Venice.” Each time she visits, she pretends to love it but really thinks it’s fake. Every time she leaves, they get in heated arguments and she finally admits her hatred for the entire LA scene. One night, after an argument via text, Alice goes to a wine bar in the lower east side. She gets spring break drunk and cries to a cute Irish bartender.
She has a one nighter and feels horrible after. Poor Alice. Only two of her girlfriends know this secret. The “adorable couple” decide to take a quick break, her choice. He has no idea why, and the man, less than two years ago, who disposed of females is heartbroken over one. He’s even doing poorly at work and ultimately moves back to New York.
After two months back in the same city he proposes in Central Park behind the Alice In Wonderland statue. They both tell this story as if he rented a plane and wrote “Marry Me, Alice” in the sky. As he explains the proposal to people she shakes her head and says, “Ya know, ’cause my name’s Alice.” This is the most Alice has ever spoken to more than four people at a time. They buy a home in Greenwich, CT and say they moved so they would be closer to her parents, but really they just don’t want to admit that they want their kids to have a backyard with a swing set. However, they do see Alice’s parents often, but his parents they rarely see because he has several daddy issues. Oh, that might explain the “no remorse” feeling that girls questioned during his highly promiscuous twenties. Eventually, he becomes a die-hard Republican like her father, who always wears a Polo sweater tied around his shoulders. Their adorable four boys and one girl grow up watching Fox News. Yes five kids. They don’t believe in climate change. And so it goes on.
But, as I watch him tonight, he’s not thinking about his future, or Alice or children or a home in the ‘burbs. He’s not even thinking about who he can sleep with tonight. He’s thinking only of work, the stress and clients’ demanding phone calls. He’s tired. There is nothing more atractive then a man who is focused on work.
What’s his name? He’s too handsome for a cute name like George or Mat. Wait, I hear Alice saying it, “Jamison.” I’m so happy he turned out to be an okay guy. Well, apart from his barbaric political views. I can’t hold it in anymore, I look up at him and smile. “He looks down at me and rolls his eyes. Oh that’s right, this is still young player Jamison, not grown up, committed-to-Alice Jamison.
He notices I’m not entirely hideous, so he looks back and gives me a half smile and says,”Why are you smiling at me?” Oh no, this can’t be good. To be continued.