Today’s soundtrack: I recently downloaded the BeeGees’ “More Than A Woman” and have been rocking it shamelessly.
Today at 9:32am: Showing up for work at a new freelance gig. Yeah man! Walking distance from the house, I got the Nike commute.


I’ve decided I hate the Dating Class I have to take. To recap: I write a column on relationships for this website, right, and both the editor and I thought it would be funny if we sent me to write about this Dating Class offered by a Manhattan psychotherapist and self-proclaimed relationship guru.

Well it’s a fucking six-week course. I’ve been to the first two and the last one fairly sucked. Not only that but after one of the “flashback” exercises one of the chicks started crying. Talk about uncomfortable.

I had to sit next to this French guy who didn’t smell so good. Anyways I’m not really supposed to write about the class here--supposed to save it for the column--I’m just bitching about it ‘cause I have to go up there tonight. I hope that chick doesn’t cry again. I totally don’t want to go but I can’t just drop out in the middle.

I want to bring soap for the French cat and prozac for the chick.

Hey so the other night I had a date. It went really well. We had dinner at a decent little spot I know in TriBeCa, and talked more than we ate. Damn I like this girl, but I won’t tell you why.

Afterwards we headed over to a bar on Ludlow, where my friend White Roger was spinning. The hot thing was he wasn’t using turntables, he hooked up two iPods. Also there was a live band playing house music. Their first set was some misguided latin-reggae-punk bullshit but then they started laying down house and they got pretty hot.

Anyways Handsome Dan and Mars were in the house. Those guys are so fucking funny they had me crying. Every time I see them I laugh ‘til my face hurts, and on this night they were in rare form. I wasn’t sure how my date would react--in terms of humor, Mars and Dan like to “keep it gangsta”--but she laughed so hard she said she worried she’d get an ulcer.

There were points when I tried not to stare and I think I did a pretty good job. My date looked so, so good and I really like the way she talks. I get the sense she’s seeing multiple guys though. Which I suppose is okay for now. I know what I’ve got and what I don’t, so all I can do is hope it lines up with what she’s looking for. If she’s into tall guys or I-bankers, well, whaddaya gonna do.

See in the beginning I don’t really mind having competition; I think it’s better to date a girl who deemed you the best out of multiple contestants, and if you don’t make the cut, well those are the breaks. She probably needs a little time to get a good handle on me and vice versa. I don’t have very good handles, they got broken off.

A’right I gotta get some chow and go up to this fucking class. Truth is I got nothin’ to complain about so don’t cry for me Argentina.