out in santa fe

So, went out last night with a co-worker. She's mid-twenties and from Santa Fe, so there's like two degrees or less of separation between her and everyone else in town in their early to mid-twenties. First we went to El Farol to hear Maryol play. Have you guys ever spotted Marilyn Monroe there on Maryol nights? She wears this blond wig and sunglasses and a miniskirt. She's like the most animated local celebrity stalker among us-you totally have to check her out. She was at the table down from Mr. Serial Killer-looking guy who was reading "Catcher in the Rye." I swear to God that I am not making this up. We suggested hooking the two of them up and forming a new dating service called "imperfectmatch.com."
So, Alex Maryol. Yes, he's hot, but enough is enough. It's like he's everywhere now. Who does the local marketing for this guy? And at the end of his set, the waitress took around a collection jar. I felt like I was in church. Maybe I don't know the first thing about the Santa Fe music scene but isn't there something a bit off about asking everyone in the bar to tip the "best of santa fe" guy? I mean, I get the whole starving musician thing but collection plates at a restaurant/bar? The last thing I want to feel when I'm gulping down my first Herradura Silver margarita of the night is guilt for not chipping in for the most popular musician in Santa Fe. But this is why I write anonymously.
So, from there we go to Dragon Room. We run into some of my friend's very boring, unanimated and highly connected Santa Fe acquaintences. You know the kind. The ones who think laughing at anything is for losers. They asked us if we wanted to follow along to Fernando's. I had never been to Fernando's. I didn't even know Fernando's existed. I almost asked WHO Fernando was, which would've totally blown my already tarnished cover (because I had already laughed in front of cool, tatoo artsy people). For those of you who also do not have the faintest clue, Fernando's is the "hidden" bar behind Pachanga. It is Santa Fe's attempt at fabricating, as closely as possible, the big city, chic hidden elite club-without the true elitist catalyst of denying people at the door. It's hysterical. But they've done a decent job, so you have to join in. The weird thing about Santa Fe (and I'm saying this as one who is still an outsider) is that most of the people in that bar have either already hooked up or know that theye eventually will and no one seems to mind double dipping into the highly environmentally-friendly (a.k.a. Recycled) dating pool.
Yes, in the final throws of the night we went to Atomic...for coffee...at 3am. How ridiculous one can be when you stay up past your bedtime. I love that British waiter that's always in there. He always looks at you like, "hello drunk people, please make this easy for me." But in a very non-critical, slightly amused way. It makes you feel everything's right with the world. But in a very anti-climactic, ignostic, tommorrow is going to suck kind of way.

first entry

first entry
what not to do in heels:So here's my deal: recently moved from DC to Santa Fe. A move from one side of the country to another, and also a move from being very much part of a couple for the last 6 years to newly single, and hence, not knowing what the hell to do with myself on Sunday mornings. Almost 30 years old. Haven't been single since I was 22. It's so akward. I feel like Bambi trying to walk again-in heels, I might add. It just feels so silly sometimes-the idea of putting yourself out there on the market, like a piece of chicken-and I do not have the latest expiration date on the shelf. I mean, one could definitely reach behind me and get the fresher, newly stocked chicken-although, I'd still probably have the highest heels-at least in this town. The worst part is, when one forgets how to do something (like date and flirt), one attempts to observe what other singles in similar positions are doing-not talking about sexual positions here, people. Except this town is CRAZY-or maybe I'm finally getting OLD. I don't know what I've been missing the last six years, but women in the age bracket right below me (early 20s) are so much more...how do I say it...well, they'll just jump right in, if you know what I mean. They don't even really have to like the guy that much. Now, I've found that this also allows them not to get so attached, although how this is accomplished is completely beyond me. Women these days are as tough as nails-I mean, we're talking titanium coated. Now I am starting to say about women what I used to say about men: I just don't get how they do it.So, needless to say, I haven't really ventured too far into the single Santa Fe world..yet. I thought I was getting ready to step out on the field of battle, but then I made the horrible discovery that two married women I know have these husbands who cheat on them-probably with multiple women. I've definitely been in retreat since then. I mean, if that's what happens after marriage, what the hell is it all for, Alfie?Unfortunately, the one attempt I've made thus far towards a human of the opposite sex has left me confused and clumsy. I asked this guy-who is very funny and cute and cool-to go out with me on a couple of dates. He seemed interested enough. But then I blew it-I called him too much-or at least that's the only thing I can come up with. I mean, there really should be a service out there that coaches you about how to get back into dating if you've been out of the loop too long. You know, sends you emails reminding you that it's too soon to call, put the phone down. Maybe a breathalizer phone-one that can smell desperation on you breath and cuts off the call.And now I have to fall back on the wonderful, "it happened for a reason" adage (which really means, I screwed the pooch and there's nothing I can do about it now) . I mean, he was a Gemini, after all. I should've fled for the hills after I learned that, but no. Instead, I sat my butt right in the middle of the road. Roadkill. That's what I've reduced myself too. I mean this literally folks. The day I blew it with cute funny guy, it threw me so off balance that I literally fell in my 3 inch heels onto the middle of the road in front of Evangelo's, tearing my new favorite banana republic pants and spilling my starbucks latte. But why am I telling you this-you probably saw me do it, like everyone elso on the street that day. And the saddest part is that this is long before the addition of sex into the equation. Can you imagine what would happen after? Oh good lord. I'll keep you posted.