Vol. 2, Post #50 So Now What?

Am I dating women again? My sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds, AKA, people with readers.

Last week, the day after the inauguration, the day after hell froze over and continued to be freezing, the day that I pulled on my faux fur lined snow boots and tromped into NYC to meet some friends for work and play, I met a really captivating woman. And we’re going on a date.

Shout out here to my pal Amanda, who is chuckling right now, if not outright guffawing. This is because whenever I go through a breakup, I say I’m not dating for a while. And in reality, I’m not. I’m not in the mood to date. I’m not in the mood for anything beyond a good cup of coffee in bed with the dog and all the pillows, and some books, and my nearly translucent-from-wear tarot cards. Amanda has every right to laugh at me. Still, I’d be a fool to not go on a date with this woman. Here’s how it happened.

After a day huffing and puffing around the city in the truly frigid temps, I met up with a friend at her apartment for a cocktail before dinner. I had walked down to her place in the West Village from Murray Hill (no, not that Murray Hill but boy do I love him to pieces!) — and for those of you Young Olds who speak Old New York, let’s always use the neighborhood names and not just say Midtown East — so I got in about 9,000 steps and I was more relaxed than I had felt in days. As much as I hate to admit it, exercise is truly the ultimate stress buster.

Hi Murray! Come to Ptown this summer with our Mary G.! Pretty please?!?!?

The city was nearly silent. Between the cold and the reality that is life in the United States right now, there was nearly no one on the street, and very few people in the shops that I popped into for a warm up as I strolled (Fishs Eddy was a particularly nice stop as I got to see owner Julie Gaines, who is a retail genius and a genuinely beautiful and brilliant woman).

The friend who was hosting me for drinks at her place is an actress and, yes, one you would readily recognize. Let’s call her Lady P. You know when you get the opportunity meet an artist that you admire and you are totally fingers-crossed that they end up being delightful? That’s what happened when I met my pal Lady P. a few years ago. She was everything I hoped she would be, and more. And we became fast friends, bonding over so many of our favorite things: politics, a near obsessive love of dogs, a wicked sense of humor, and boy talk. We covered all of those bases as we sipped bourbon in her apartment before strolling down the street for dinner at one of her favorite boites. This was medicine for what ailed me in that moment; for a few hours, we were both able to stop perseverating over The American Experience Now Redefined As A Total Shit Show. I drank down that temporary relief as easily as I did the bourbon.

Dinner was delicious and a few of Lady P.’s neighborhood thespians were also in the restaurant, so a good time was had by many. Across the room, I saw a man and a woman “notice” Lady P. as we were escorted to our table. I assumed they were fans and as such, that they might stop by the table to say hello. Lady P. is incredibly gracious about that.

As suspected, the man and the woman DID come by our table on their way out, except they were not fans, but friends. Lady P. greeted the woman warmly, and introduced me. Her name and face seemed…familiar. We all started chatting.

And…wait…what was that? That…vibe? I found myself telling the woman a story that I had shared with others in the past, but in my telling that night, it felt different. Was I flirting with her?

It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about dating women. Those Dear Readers who know me IRL remember I was with my now ex-wife for the better part of a decade. That was a deeply passionate and complicated relationship. My ex-wife (at the time) was struggling with some personal challenges around mood regulation and had a lot of guilt around that, as well as some other issues. However, we had a HOT connection and like an idiot, I thought that I could be a rock for her while she sorted through those challenges, since I tend to step right up for those who need a rock on which to rest when I fall in love. As I’ve learned over the years, being a rock is a nice as long as you don’t end up in someone’s coat pocket, drowning in a river along with them, a la Virginia Woolf.

Besides my ex-wife, I’ve had an occasional girlfriend and an assortment of female lovers that were part of my polyamory experiment. I’m really just a garden variety bisexual, in that I really enjoy men, love cock, and have defaulted to heteronormative relationships for most of my life, but the right woman will turn my head with zero hesitation. Ain’t nothing scary about pussy to me. Both men and women figure into my masturbation fantasies, and re. “the right woman,” I most certainly have an “at first sight” preference, and it won’t surprise you: I like masculine (even super butch) women and I like to be “the pretty one.” I’m not remotely interested in sharing lipstick or swapping dresses with my girlfriend. Go ahead, sue me; it’s my fantasy, right?

There I was, batting my eyelashes at Lady P.’s friend and thinking, well, THIS is interesting. As the friend and her companion said goodnight, I turned to Lady P. and said, “She’s hot” to which Lady P. laughed and agreed, adding, “You know who she is, right?”

Yes, I did, but asked Lady P., “Tell me more.” Boy, did she ever. Lady P.’s pal is in fact a bona fide LEGEND in her area of expertise (media), a name I did indeed know from print and television, a professional badass with a pedigree that makes me almost weep in awe.

“You should reach out, keep the conversation going,” said Lady P. as we finished our meal and headed over to see some friends in their apartment for a nightcap. And while Lady P. was regaling our friends about our dinner and our chat with “The Legend,” I was indeed reaching out. The Legend’s email was searchable via a news org., so I dashed off a quick note. And she quickly responded.

We’ve been chatting for a week now. And, as I wrote above, yes, we have a date on the books.

Taking gender out of the equation (because I remember when I told some pals at the tail end of my marriage to my son’s father that I had met someone and that I was very intrigued, they all seemed shocked that I had “buried the lede” in that the person I met was a woman, a detail that never even occurred to me to include in the telling of “why” I was intrigued), I sat around for much of this week and thought: Should I be dating at all? Wasn’t I planning an “off year”?

2025 seems like a great year to batten down the hatches, in every way. From a spiritual POV, 2+2+0+5=9, and in numerology, or sacred geometry, or any number of mystical practices (and you know I’m a more than a curious dabbler in this), 9 is the last number of sequence before the restart at 1 (10 is, after all, just a 1+0=1) and therefore 9 is a cycle of completion before rebirth. In tarot, 9 is The Hermit and I don’t need to write anymore about that for you to understand where I’m heading, correct? Given what we’ve already seen, 2025 seems like the perfect year to hermit away and pray that we get through this. I rarely write “pray” — lately, I humbly offer up my prayers as well as my fury and my resolute determination to stay unafraid. And in the midst of all of this, that someone utterly fascinating and SO FUCKING SMART and attractive appears? Well, I’ll hermit away with the best of them but I know my body, and my body said, “Not so fast, Abbe.”

The Legend got me buzzing. For me, people who share my political passion are aphrodisiacs personified. Related to that, meeting and chatting with The Legend reminded me of an assortment of asinine (there’s that 9 again) conversations that I had with my last two partners, with regards to their own takes on the dire straits in which we find ourselves right now. My long-term ex-partner was apolitical to a damning degree and I always explained it away, saying that this was because he is a ridiculously overworked chef who had time for nothing outside his restaurant. The recent ex-Boyfriend had the correct politics but some of his family members did not and this really really bothered me (and it bothered me that it did not bother him more as well, but no one is perfect and god knows if anyone judged me on my blood family and their assorted bullshit, I’d never be able to leave the house). To say I am mildly besotted over the kinds of conversations I am envisioning with The Legend is an understatement. Also, did I mention that she’s hot?

Keep you posted.

PHOTO UP TOP ^^^ I was showing off my engagement ring to my now ex-wife, 2010.

ALSO! Volume TWOOOOOOOOOO!! A full year has passed since I launched What’s Shove Got To Do With It — thank you from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom for your support. Viva La Revolución!