Splendid weekend it was, filled with bar-hopping, friends, my very attractive corporate lawyer resurfacing, and drunkenly doing a swim-a-thon for the Masters team where I work…

Friday:

Jenn and I planned on going out since I didn’t have to be at work until 12 on Saturday (a nice change from my usual 8 am start).  I got a text from my bgff (g=gay), who recently moved up here to pursue his acting career, seeing what my plans were.  I hopped over to BK for a few drinks at our go-to Williamsburg bar.  They have a special called the Texas 2-step, which is a shot of tequila and a lonestar beer, so of course, we had two of those.  Although he was persuading me to stay there for the duration of the night, I had to decline so that I could meet up with Jenn in East Village.  Her and I met at Thirsty Scholar, which was surprisingly packed with cute guys, but we only stuck around for one drink.  Next stop, Whiskey Town, a bar we’ve now been to 3 times, each time filled with Trip Vanderbilt look-alikes.  We enjoyed a beer, eyeing the scene, but didn’t have any substantial conversations, so we once again moved on, going back towards our apartment in Greenwich.  We made a stop at OTW, so Jenn could go to the bathroom and weigh out the scene while I stood outside with my cigarette.  She reappeared, sadly informing me that it was filled with B & T (bridge and tunnel), like most weekend nights.  At that point, we agreed to go to the new bar that just opened on our block.  It’s mainly a beer bar, neighboring the NYU Law School library, and as we walked in, we noticed that the inhabitants were, in fact, NYU grad students.  All well-dressed and quite attractive.  Perhaps a new go-to bar?  Both of us were a little too drunk to actually get another drink, so we decided to call it a night, satisfied that we’d at least checked out the scene in there.  Once home, I hopped on facebook for a little bit, and was immediately messaged by S, an extremely cute lawyer that I hooked up with the first week I was in the city (circe early September), but hadn’t seen since.  Albeit, we’ve had multiple phone conversations since, but I more or less had given up on him.  After some talking, I invited him over for some drinks and to catch-up (aka I wanted to get laid).  It’s around 2 at this point, and he showed up, looking just as good as I remembered.  We talked and sipped some wine until about 5, which is when he took my wine glass from me and leaned over to kiss me.  The kissing gradually turned into full-fledge making out, then the removal of my tights, unbuttoning my top, and making his way down on me.  It. Was. Amazing.  Once he was done, we started having sex, which was also great.  HE is the package deal I’ve been waiting for… cute, smart, funny, nice, great in bed, and a mere 4 blocks away.  None of those factors necessarily more important than the others.  We finally fell asleep around 6:30… a good night turned great.  Very satisfying.

Saturday:

I showed up to work around 12, black sunglasses on and feeling hungover as fuck.  The majority of the day was spent playing soduku, aside from the 2 hour lunch hour I took that involved going to an apartment in the 60s to teach a swimming private lesson.  I went back to work for a few hours after, in the mindset of going home around 6 and NOT doing the swim-a-thon at 8 that I promised the Masters coach I would.  Some of my co-managers were going out for dinner at a place on the way to the train, so I went with them to have a few beers before going home.  After 3 bud lights on am empty stomach, it was time for them to go back and me to go home, however, they grabbed my purse and told me I would only get it back if I went back with them and did an hour swim-a-thon.  Bitches.  The only consolation was that they would drive me home afterwards, oh, and that I would get my purse back.  I dragged my feet the entire 10 minute walk back, changed into my speedo, and tried to get into the mindset of swimming as much as possible in an hour without puking everywhere.  Surprisingly, I completed 2 1/2 miles and kept my liquid dinner down.  Success.  I even had a couple flirtatious exchanges with the beautiful water polo guys that were doing it too.  Once home, around 11, I only had enough energy to shower and dry my hair before passing out.

Sunday:

I slept until 10, made some coffee, read nytimes.com, then got ready to meet Nick and Jamie for brunch in West Village.  Sunday brunch is both a blessing and a curse, as it’s socially acceptable to get obliterated before 2 in the afternoon, yet it fucks with your sleep schedule for at least the next day and a half.  We caught up over 4 or 5 glasses of champagne, then they stole my purse in order for me to go shopping with them.  We took the A down to Spring, then stopped in the first boutique we saw, where the proceeded to gather about 5 items each for me to try on.  I remember trying on several dresses that were each well over $250, some glitzy tops, and I’m not sure what else.  We ended up putting several items on hold, promising we’d be back later to pick them up.  Riiiiight.  As they tried to get me to go with them to the next shop, I somehow convinced them to cut me loose so I could go home and get to bed (even though it was only 5:30).  On my drunken stumble home, my fingers were flying and the texting was a bit out of control…  this morning’s review of my outbox and inbox confirmed that I was, indeed, too drunk.  Oy fucking vey.

… all in all, nothing too exciting, aside from my lawyer.  Let’s hope that manifests (fingers crossed).  This just in, my TriBeCa guy (see TriBeCa Tower?  Yes Please.) is apparently back from London and wants to take me out for drinks Wednesday.  Hmm… I could stand for some classy cocktails.  Thoughts?