An Excellent Start

New Year's Eve. My least favorite holiday of the year. You might assume my least favorite holiday would be Valen- er, Single's Awareness Day, but that's not true. It's easy to ignore S.A.D. Especially if it's during the week, you just continue with your normal routine. With New Year's Eve, there is way too much pressure to not stay at home watching chick flicks. (At least alone. But finding someone else to commit to watching chick flicks with you, is not easy.)

This year, I thought it would be easiest to go out in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my place. There are no shortage of bars in a three-block radius, and we wouldn't have to worry about a designated driver or paying for a taxi. Anyone who wanted to was welcome to crash on my floor. But sure enough, my friends had ideas of their own that didn't involve my neighborhood. I immediately called not-Designated Driver. I gave them the option of not needing one, so I sure as hell wasn't going to be responsible for driving everyone around.

Despite the plans, I was very excited about the evening. I had put together a pretty rockin' outfit, and was feeling very good. Our first stop however, was a party in midtown, nicknamed the "gayborhood." It was indeed the gayest party in town. There were men everywhere. All making out with each other. Now I am a friend to the gay community, but on New Year's Eve, that's not really what I'm looking for. Luckily, it wasn't a complete wash, as several of the guys complemented my wardrobe choice, and that means a lot coming from this crowd. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the party and on to the bar, which also happened to be located in the heart of the ghetto. On our way in, we heard several gunshots. I told myself they were celebratory fireworks. The bar also had an awful lot of men making out with other men, as well as plenty of girl-on-girl action, but we met up with my roommate and our cute neighbor there. It was nearly midnight when we arrived, and my roommate and I were entirely too sober. We had some catching up to do, and did we. The cute neighbor was hitting on both of us, which was pretty strange, but when you're in an inebriated state, you don't tend to notice too much.

Finally, we made it back to a bar around the corner to my place. Once we had a table, I got up to get some popcorn to go with all the alcohol. On my way back, my path was blocked by a scruffy looking man, so I politely said excuse me. He turned around, apologized, introduced himself. "Violet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Nice to meet you. Are you here with your boyfriend?"

Ha. Silly boy. Why on earth would I be there with my boyfriend, let alone have one?

I went back to my table where my roommate and cute neighbor were getting a bit cozy. A few minutes later, Popcorn Man (as my roommate has referred to him so often it's stuck) pulled up a chair next to me and started talking. We chatted while my roommate and neighbor quite obviously analyzed our interaction. I was in a pretty good place though, and managed to ignore the fact that they were staring and breaking down our every move. Before leaving, Popcorn Man said he would love to take me out sometime, and did I have any plans for the rest of the weekend? I gave him my number.

My roommate, the neighbor, and I walked back to our place, where we cooked breakfast, and the neighbor tried to put the moves on my roommate, and she tried to get away. She accomplished this by putting me in between them. We have a pretty good-sized kitchen, but it felt very crowded. A sober me would have felt uncomfortable. We couldn't get the neighbor to leave. I went to bed, but while I've been assured that nothing happened, he is officially "a situation." (In that my roommate is not interested. He's kind of a man-whore.)

New Year's Day. The Popcorn Man actually called. We decided to go out for drinks that night. I figured a date on the first day of the new year is a very good sign. While talking to him, I decided he's the perfect candidate for a Mr. Right Now. He's scruffy and bearded and fun to talk to. He paid for my drinks and opened doors. He even texted me a few minutes ago to say that he had fun last night. But halfway through our first drink he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and asked did I mind if he smoked?

Ugh. I know I'm not looking for everlasting love here, but this is one of those dealbreakers I have yet to get over. It's just so unattractive. Even when I was on a remote island with Mr. Almost Perfect, I couldn't get past it. I've never actually snogged a regular smoker. And while I know my New Year's resolution is to get more action, I'm posing this question to any of you who might have experience: Is snogging a smoker worth it?

Mr. Almost Perfect

I admit, I have very high standards. My list of dealbreakers is very, very long. Too long. I'm working on being a bit more open-minded, which will have to wait until I move, because I never EVER date boys who are from my current location. Is my pickiness the reason I'm still single? I don't know, but it may be the reason why I haven't had a real, honest-to-goodness boyfriend in far too long. (Imaginary boyfriends don't count.)

A few months ago, I met Mr. Almost Perfect. He was cute. He was funny. No, HILARIOUS. He was sweet. He was a European Jim Halpert. And we were sitting on the world's most isolated inhabited island together. It seemed too good to be true, which, of course, it was. Mr. Almost Perfect was a smoker.

Now, I really don't think Mr. Almost Perfect and I ever could have lived happily ever after. First of all, we carry different passports, making it geographically impossible. But it had been awhile, so I thought maybe the Rapa Nui gods had reached down and given me a sack full of fresh guapo points and a weekend fling on the remotest of remote islands was exactly what I needed. Sadly, it was not to be.

I tried to tell myself that smoking is a silly dealbreaker when simply looking for a little weekend fun, but I wasn't very convincing. I mean, who wants to kiss an ashtray? Granted, he didn't exactly make the moves on me, but I also nagged him every time he lit up, so I can't imagine that was a very attractive quality. When he told me that he had only recently started the habit up again, I was tempted to reply, "Well then, why don't you go home, quit, then CALL ME."

When it was time to part ways, I wasn't all that upset about it. At least I know that the good guys are out there, somewhere. Jim Halpert does exist. You just may have to go to the ends of the earth to find him.