A Second Helping

I had my second date with Mr. Tall.

Although, I wouldn't call it a date, necessarily, more like (using Mr. Tall's words) "An Adventure".

I met him in Grand Central station by the clock in the middle. I had been running all over the whole day, having just come from an audition (that went really well!!!) so I was on a high from that. He greeted me with a smile and eyes that said: Great! You're here. I can't wait for you to see what I've got up my sleeve!

He took me to the Juniors on the lower level and over a Tuna Melt, a Grilled Cheese and some diet coke we caught up a little as to what we had both been up to the past week and a half. He would look at his cell phone every once in a while and smiling say: Just checking on the time for the train.

Me: Train? Where are we going?

Him: Do you really want to know?

Me: ... No.

We had some time to kill after dinner so with my hand in his (WHAT!? already? I barely know this guy!) we walked through the terminal and up to Campell's apartment, which, Mr. Tall filled me in on, used to be some super-duper rich guys crash pad whenever he came in to the city. Now it's an old fashioned, Mad Men Style saloon featuring a very intricately decorated ceiling and men in white coat-tails who ferry expensive looking cocktails all over the dimly lit, cigarette smoke lacking room. I almost wished there was a way cigarette smoke was available there, the ambiance was so perfect for it, as if, through the theoretical gloom I could have looked over at the bar and seen the Rat Pack all hanging there drinking their Old Fashioned's and talking about Marilyn Monroe.

Mr. Tall's eyes gleamed when he looked up from his cell phone again.

Him: Ok, Let's go catch the train.

Me: Where are we going?

Him: Tarrytown.

Me: What? What's there??

Him: Do you really want to know?

Me: ...No...

Using his dancer like precision I was guided over to the track with a big Metro North Train waiting to take us, I don't know where.

"Do we have tickets?" I asked.

Mr. Tall smiled. "Of course. I already got them."

The train ride was a little less than an hour. Tall and I chatted the whole way about regional dialects and sayings. I laughed a few times at some New York-isms he said he's noticed here (Tall's from Colorado) like "You know what I mean?" and "whuddare ya up to?" I showed him my new headshots and explained the difference between commercial shots and Legit shots.

We pulled in to Tarrytown and Mr. Tall's mischevous smile came back.

Him: Ok. So, do you know anything about Sleep Hollow?

Me: Oh my god. NO WAY.

Him: And a certain legend of Sleep Hollow?

Me: HaHA! Yes! I do!

Him: Good. I found something I think you might like. We just need to get a cab to take us there.

Within 10 minutes we were standing outside the Sleep Hollow Haunted Maze. Mr. Tall had taken me to a haunted house tour.

We were the last group in.

I've been to a haunted house once before in Louisville. My friend David took me after a Dracula show for Halloween. We were also the last group in when we went. The cool thing about being the last group is all the actors who are dressed as ghouls follow you in the end and pick on you the most. I can imagine for some people that would not be ideal. For me, however: BRING IT. I screamed at the top of my lungs for every little thing I could. I laughed and shouted and ran and jumped and clung to Mr. Tall like a rat in a rain storm. The end of the tour was a visit from the Headless Horseman himself, and the scream that came out of me might have curdled milk. It was exhilarating. The production value of that tour was outstanding.

At the end Mr. Tall asked if I enjoyed myself.

Me: Um, YES!

Tall: Good! Me too. I've wanted to come up and do that for a while.

Me: I can't believe you put all this together! Oh my god!

Tall: It was fun.

We looked over ghost stories and "Legends of..." anthologies in the gift shop. We had a little time to kill before the next train. I told Tall about the trip I took to Waverly Hills Sanitorium in Louisville (One of the creepiest places I have ever been). Tall admitted he loved a good ghost story. I said I did in context, when I'm not in the middle of the woods somewhere.

After the cab dropped us back at the train station I found myself dead tired (no pun intended). I leaned into Mr. Tall's chest and rested my head on his shoulder. Oh my god, I thought. We're one of those people. The people I'll see on platforms. The one's that seem as if they are just one being they are so close. Tall's arms circled me with a protective warmth and I closed my eyes for a minute and imagined what this would feel like all the time. Oh, it's so warm and safe...

On the train ride back we were more quiet and reserved. I was getting really tired and had to be up for a film shoot in Connecticut the following morning. Tall noticed the vacant stares.

Him: Look at you. Thinking about what you have to do tomorrow, huh?

Me: ha. Yeah.

Him: Long day?

Me: Yeah.

Him: You can put your head on my shoulder if you want to sleep.

Me: Who are you, and where can I find more of your kind? That offer is very tempting... Thanks, but I'll tough it out. Keep you company on the ride home.

Mr. Tall walked me to the 7 train so I could get back out to Queens. I had a flutter in my chest. What do we do? Kiss? Does he expect something from me? Uh... Why am I so scared? Am I just going to get hurt if I get too involved in this?

A 7 train pulled in as we were entering the station. I wished the train could have waited. I don't exactly know what I wanted to do to Mr. Tall so I turned to wish him good bye and before I had time to think, he pulled me in to a kiss, just for a second, then gently pushed me toward the train. I ran on board and found a seat. He waited across the platform for the 7 to take him to the West Side. I expected the train doors to close and move, like some fairy tale ending to some fairy tale date, but promptly spent a few awkward minutes watching the car doors open and shut as the conductor had a Door-fight with stragglers trying to board the train. Each time the doors opened again I smiled and playfully pretended I didn't see Mr. Tall. He caught my eye several times and smiled back. So much for riding off into the sunset, but this is almost as good... I waved goodbye as the train lurched forward and carried me off to Queens. See you soon, Mr. Tall. I tried to repress a squeal of delight at the thought of that.

A Big Bite Out of the Apple

It's always amazing to me that when I feel as though things are looking great and wonderful, I'll need to keep an eye out for catastrophe which I always feel is waiting right around the corner. It's as if life has a way of saying: "Yes, enjoy it now because at any moment Fate might come around and take the biggest of all dumps right on top of your head..."

Granted, I know I live a very lucky and overall happy life, but cleaning up the massive crap pile that accumulates after Fate took her fair share of your attention is never fun. The upside, I guess, is remembering not to stand in the same place so that when Fate decides to come back and unload herself again, you're not standing there ready to take it.

As a means of some control over the stress I've been experiencing at my job and personal life, I bought a MacBook Air. Yep. She's a thing of beauty. I brought her in to work last night, and as a form of protection from the crumbs and bits of soiled paper at the bottom of my book bag I put "Lola" (the new computer's name) inside of a manila envelop. Oh, she's so tiny and smart. She's the physical embodiment of the saying "I wish I could put you in my pocket and carry you around so you can make me smile." I got Lola instead of an iPad. I was debating for weeks about getting an iPad because I have a lot of auditions coming up and I was thinking it might be really high-tech and professional if I got one of those tablets to sort through any websites I might be building or youtube videos I may want to show. My friend who works at the Apple store on 5th Avenue convinced me that I should just go the whole 9 yards and get the Air. He even got me a small discount! Lucky me. As I was standing outside of the Apple Store waiting for my friend I couldn't help but stare at the half eaten, rotting apples lining the walls of the store. In tribute to Steve Jobs, there was a massive shrine to the man consisting of the typical bunches of flowers, candles, notes, a picture of Steve that looked remarkably like Gandhi, and a bushel's worth of half eaten apples. As I stared at the plethora of tourists snapping shots of the shrine I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Rotting half-eaten apples? Really? and on 5th Avenue? If I were to visit a shrine in my honor after I've passed into the great beyond, I would really appreciate it if there was no garbage left to represent all the work I've done. Yuck.

Mr. Tall and I are meeting this Friday. He says he has an "adventure planned" for me. I'm really excited! I haven't seen him since our jaunt to P.J.Clark's for the scotch/bourbon. He was out of town for a while. I kept debating about whether I should text him or not, but decided to let him make the move. I've done a lot of pursuing the last few months, if he wants me that bad, he can call me, right? So far, all that's needed is a little patience. More of that to come...

A Tall Bourbon, Please. Neat.

I had quite the adventure yesterday, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

I met up with Mr. Tall (the guy I had met online at the Upright Citizens Brigade last week) at the Sofia Wine Bar on 50th and 2nd ave. It was a small, dimly lit place, lit by the candles on the tables and sporting a hefty choice of wines to choose from, along with a couple of appetizers to nibble whilst sipping and squinting at your partner across the table. I was fully anticipating the date to go as any online date has gone: just a lot of blah, blah, blah's back and forth, some failed attempts at flirtation and then a quick excuse as to why I need to head home. Not so with Mr. Tall.

He was very curious about me. I had had a very busy day and chattered away about it. We talked about alcohol, and wine and food and family and jobs. I drank my Pinot Grigio rather quickly and promptly began to drop my fork on the floor and knock over a cup of water. It wasn't from nerves so much as exhaustion and tipsiness. What did I have to lose from this guy, though? I wasn't sitting at the table in Sofia for a chance at scoring a homerun that night, and, frankly I am feeling as though my life is moving in the direction I want it to so well, that a boyfriend is not really in my sights either. No pressure.

We finished our appetizers and then made our way over to P.J. Clarke's which is an old fashioned bar on 2nd ave. The place was bustling with business suites and heels. I had the keen realization that I was most definitely the youngest person in the joint. I told Mr. Tall I wanted a bourbon, a Glenlivet (which is actually a Scotch, I've now realized!), neat, please. We sipped our shots by the window and then fell into one of the most engaging conversations I have had in a while.

First off: I was actually looking up at him. And, at P.J.'s there was light to see him by! I could actually read his facial expressions. What a concept! We left the drab "whuddo you doo?" questions behind very rapidly and moved on to crazy, gesticulating, passion driven whoops of "You do that? I DO THAT TOO!" Then the "Oh my god, YES! I feel the same way!" followed by a simultaneous: "ugh, I hate that. *laughter*"

At one point the bar got very crowded. There were people moving past us and shifting us around. Tall put his arms around my waist and pulled me close to avoid being bumped in to. I looked up at him and could only smile. "Here," he said. "Let me be in the way." As he caught my arm and shifted me toward the window, away from all the movement by the bar. I left my hand in his for the remainder of the night.

He walked me back to the subway station, my arm resting on his. I felt like I was being treated like quite the lady. He's a dancer, and would occasionally lead me as if we were in a waltz: "Let's cross here" and I would effortlessly follow. Who knew crossing the street could be so choreographed? I felt my stomach tie in a knot at the thought of what our parting should consist of. There is a strange dilemma that occurs on a date: Do I kiss them good bye? Do I hug? Do I wave? What do I say? "See ya' soon, buddy?" or "Hey, Let me call you..." or "No, thanks. Your place sounds nice, but I really do need to go home" Mr. Tall blithely chatted about New York History and how he liked to explore old houses. I nodded and smiled and let him lead me in the dance down 2nd avenue, wondering what our parting would be.

At the entrance to the train he was suddenly very close to me. "Goodbye, Natalie." He said. "I would really like to do this again, Tall." I blurted. Yes. I would. "Great. Me too." He answered. I kissed him very quickly, then pulled back to see his reaction. He smiled. "Good night." He chuckled. And traced his finger down my face. Tall kissed me on the forehead before turning to walk away. "See you soon!" He murmured.

I floated down the staircase and into the subway station. I felt flush with excitement. Holy cow. See you soon, indeed.