And we're off...

24 hours in and off to a running start; 2 more human beings have my number, 1 has my saliva, none of whom are coming home for Christmas, or any other reason for that matter. I can't believe that I am about to say this, but men in this city are everywhere. Boyfriendable men, maybe not... but men - are everywhere. Single women like to believe they cannot be found but maybe we've all just been looking in the wrong places. Start lifting your legs ladies (aka there's more than just what's in front of you) because if my beginners luck is any indicator, this island may be called MANhattan for a reason. Even this morning as I went to get my to go coffee in spandex and no make up, the man a few seats down the counter winked my way; and in case the reason I didn't wink back and invite him to the bathroom was because I didn't see him, he repositioned himself - albeit standing beside a woman who I can only assume was his date - and winked again. Now before you have to grab your Kleenex because it sounds as if I missed out on a real keeper - lets get to last night.

If there were ever to be a firework start ceremony to a game like the one I'm about to play, what happened on the corner of 28th and Madison Avenue would be it. There I am outside the Hair Party 24, fresh from fighting with the Asian cashier who really did try to price gauge me on conditioner. (There may be more than what you see in the land of men, but when it comes to that of printed price-tags - what you see, I want 20% off of) Anyway, red in the face I barrel out with my haircare to what seems to be no cabs for miles; and enter Nick. Tall, brown hair, with bike - you can't win them all. We catch eyes as I'm trying to catch a cab and he literally stops to pay me a compliment and to tell me he thinks I'm very beautiful. My immediate instinct is to scan the air for scents of alcohol and with none detected bike boy has made me speechless. He then manages to even outdo himself - he goes further and asks if he can take me to dinner. Are you kidding me? You tell me I'm beautiful and then you want to feed me? I'm in.

We exchange numbers and serendipitously a free cab appears giving my exit flawless timing, which is so unlike my clumsy self that even I begin to question a higher power, when my phone rings. It is one of my closest friends (who you will come to know as PLC) inviting me to one of his favorite bars, and as PLC is the type of guy any girl would be lucky to meet, starting at a place he likes seems logical, no? But as always, there is a catch. I am wearing the same clothing I was all day,... to a meeting, walking in the park - to put it bluntly, when you're on a 48 day turn around is not the time to wear daytime heels and an over-sized sweater to a hot and trendy bar. However, If I schlep crosstown and revamp myself by the time my newly dressed ass sees Chinatown, there will be a line at said hot and trendy bar that could take longer than a trip to actual China. Go to bar and introduce its patrons to Grandma, or come as self and risk introducing myself to no one. Wait a second! A man just stopped dead in his tracks to pay respects to my daytime heels and over-sized sweater - okay he was on a bike, maybe he just likes exercise - I live in a walk up, I can be down with that; and so treating my interaction with Nick as my survivor immunity for the night; because if all else fails, at least that happened - and how much more can a girl really ask for? We are going to Chinatown!

Leave it to Chinatown to have street names that all sort of sound the same, and I get left on a corner that needless to say, is not my destination. Luckily, my daytime heels were made for walking and off I go in search of Apotheke, the hot new Chinatown speakeasy - one of those bars you wouldn't know was a bar unless you were "in the know" or saw the bouncer and red carpet outside the door. Turning lemons into lemonade, I see my walk as a opportunity to pass any open drug store to at least put some makeup on. After passing nothing but restaurants and Off Track Betting locations, I realized that would not be in the cards tonight, and if I were to meet anyone from this point forward they're likely to be either drunk, or blind. Just when I get to the corner I had tried to reach via 4 wheeled transportation, a man with more legs than teeth muttered something in my direction which I can only interpret as complimentary and my confidence is now restored. That is until I arrive at the not so hidden dragon of a bar. There's a small line, but my friends are inside, and I'm one girl, alone... you'd think that would be just a welcome from the bouncer - but no. I don't want to be the one to brag here, but bikers and bums really like me! Instantaneously I am sort of regretting my outfit, or lack there of, decision; 2 bummy steps forward, and I am now 10 scantily clad people back.

Once inside, Apotheke is cool, great music, greater looking DJ and hosts a crowd of 20 somethings in a dark and very hot room. I get the whole 'speakeasy', prohibition-esque theme... but I do think that AC, or at least fans, may have been invented by the 1920's - and dimmers I know were around. I do one visual lap around the room, eh. People are sweaty, lets not even get to me and the sweater, and it is high time for a drink. After scanning the menu, I find solace in knowing that there was in fact another grandma at the bar; Dr. Ruth; a drink comprised of rosemary infused vodka, strawberries, lime and Rose champagne. Listed under the 'aphrodisiac' portion of the menu (which also included "stimulants" and other titles that I assumed were simply for show), I take my chances and hedge my bets that a drink named after an 80 year old woman wouldn't get the better of me.

I was wrong.

After 2 sessions with the MD, the room got a lot more attractive. There was Ken, who quite frankly even 2 Dr. Ruth's couldn't help - however he was your typical Asian wall street guy, who had facial hair - which is not something you see everyday, which I think is how the conversation lasted as long as it did. Then there were a few other randoms that aren't even worth mention.

As Ruth and I still had some more to talk about, I had another and my friends friends arrived. Three boys, whose accents I couldn't honestly place, but 2 of three were quite cute! PLC had warned me that one of his friends that was coming he thought I would like... I'm still not sure which one he thought I'd hit it off with but once they arrived, the only thing we were all hitting was the bar. ** note to future self: this is definitely not the way to get a boyfriend **

After some group therapy? I am against a wall, in a corner, making out with said accent I couldn't place, that either because of the speaker behind me, or his lack of grasp on the English language, I couldn't understand a word he said. Not a problem though, there wasn't much talking. Even I write this, I'm embarrassed - therapist should come with a return policy. He was really nice and even in daylight, attractive... I am just so not "that girl".

By the time I came to, my friends left me, the clock has struck 1:30, and like someone whose at risk of turning into a pumpkin - I rush to go meet my "roommate", Boy George... my pet rabbit. (Seriously, I have a bunny... that wasn't a masturbation pun)

The Final Verdict? Day 1, not a complete failure, but overall, I should stick to street corners.