I arrived early and waited in the foyer. There was a few of us in there, and this guy and I end up randomly talking. I feel like this happens all the time in New York. I tell my NY friends about it and they’re always amazed so maybe it’s just me? Tell me if I’m wrong, but conversations with random strangers in Australia is pretty rare.

Anyway, of course this guy is in film, he’s pretty hot, a cross between a hipster and a typical creative, sporting a beard, jeans, band t-shirt and blazer with sneakers. Oui oui, typical. However, he’s really lovely and so easy to talk to and didn’t bombard me with name dropping of other directors. I love film, but I am by no means an expert and get an urge to punch people in the face who make others feel bad about not knowing no-name directors.

We end up sitting together during the talk. After the talk, he asks me out for coffee. Coffee turns into dinner. Dinner turns into drinks in the West Village. And I end up home at 4am on a Saturday morning.

During the whole time we were drinking, I kept thinking I should really fancy this guy. We liked the same bands. We liked the same films. We had a lot in common. He was really nice and yet, I felt nothing. Hell, he was really good looking. And zip. No feelings. I wondered what would happen if we made out, and I had visions of a really boring and unpassionate, awkward kiss. Yuck. Then I started thinking what elements I would need to add for me to be interested in Film Boy. Firstly, he’d need to be older - at least 5 years older. And here’s the sick part - I thought if he was more aloof - a bit more of an asshole - not so friendly - I probably wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him. WTF is wrong with me!

So let me just make it clear - there was no action on Friday night. Nor was there any action on Saturday night when he asked me out.

He called me on Saturday afternoon and asked if I wanted to go out for drinks that night. We decided to meet at my place and decide where to go from there. Whilst I was waiting for him to arrive, I got a call from LA Man. It was very strange timing. We actually hadn’t spoken since the expensive dinner. He said he was on a long drive back from a business conference and was driving through the desert at night and wanted to chat. But we were on the phone for less than 10 minutes when Film Boy arrived and I had to cut it short.

Film Boy and I headed to the East Village and drank two bottles of wine between us. It was a really cruisy night, but I’m thinking of setting him up with a friend of mine! Haha. I’m passing on the love!

So far, I’ve only cried once on this trip.

No, it wasn’t because I was missing my mom and dad. Nor was it because I missed my darling puppy back at home. And it wasn’t because I missed my closest friends. Or the comfort of my own bed. Or the full access to my wardrobe.

After LA, we spent time with my Travel Buddies relatives in their magnificent house in Oregon. This place was AMAZING. It was close to the city and well, when they adopted me as part of the family and said I was welcome to stay anytime, I was smitten. But our stay there was very short. We moved onto another relatives house in Washington. But let me just tell you, it wasn’t SEATTLE, Washington, but out in freakin’ country Washington. Oh. My. Gosh.

I’m allergic to the country. I causes me to suffer from severe anxiety and temporary insanity. I experience insomnia (the silence and unfamiliar sounds keeps me up at night) and the isolation makes me feel like I’m living The Shining-esque experience. Who could really blame Jack Nicholson for going mad and wanting to murder his wife and cute as a button kid?

When we arrived at Aunt Mirna’s house, I put on a brave face and tried to be charming, but as soon as we were shown our room, I sat on the bed and cried. Boy Travel Buddy tried to comfort me, but I told him I was homesick and missed LA man (this was partly true - I did miss LA man because he was in LA and LA is a big CITY). I didn’t tell him the truth - that I was freaking the fuck out about being so far away from civilisation.

I also have a major fear of all insects so combine the fact that we were in the middle of freakin nowhere and our room was infested with LADYBUGS (everywhere), it made it very difficult to get to sleep each night.

After my first night, I realised that by putting a glass of root beer under a switched on lamp, by the next morning, it had attracted 10-15 ladybugs and they were floating (read: drowned) in a sea of r00t beer goodness.

Hell. I’d like to say I was sad. But, I don’t care how cute ladybugs apparently are, they are still insects and can crawl into your bodily orifices and cause havoc.

I am moving out next Wednesday. I am actually really sad to leave this place. I’m only 200 metres away, but the only thing my new apartment is missing is a front stoop to sit on to wait for friends or people watch.

When I walked home along my street lined with brownstone houses, there was a slight breeze and I was showered with white flower petals.

I purposely got ready early, went downstairs and sat outside on my apartment stoop waiting for my friends to come and fetch me for dinner. I watched people eating outside at the restaurant on the next block and people walking their dogs or coming home with grocery bags. I saw people carrying Trader Joes brown paper bags and grinned because I knew the pain of shopping there. Groceries are super cheap, but the only Trader Joe’s in Manhattan was 10 blocks away from my neighborhood and it was always a struggle going home.

Later in the evening after dinner, we headed to the White Horse Tavern and sat on picnic tables outside on Hudson Street, drinking beer and checking out the crowd.

I walked past Magnolia Bakery on my way home and smiled at the line of people that wrapped around the block - all for frosted cupcakes!

Life is oh so sweet right now.

I was at Explosions in the Sky on Tuesday night when I finally got a text from him saying he arrived on Monday night for business and wanted to see me. I had always dreamed of seeing Explosions in the Sky (an AMAZING band - romantic and intense) with a loved one and was a little disappointed I missed my opportunity.

Anyway he called the next morning and asked me out. He said he was here on business and had to have dinner with his boss and colleague that night and wanted to introduce me and his best friend to them. I said yes - I wanted to see him so badly, but hours before meeting him I tried to think of ways to get out of it for some reason.

Dinner was amazing. AMAZING. We went to a really beautiful restaurant. It was buzzing with people and it was dark and fancy but had soul. A pianist and saxophonist played in the background. It was a fixed menu and the service was like none I have experienced before.

During dinner, he put me on the phone with his mom and she told me she heard a lot about me and wanted to meet me soon and invited me over for dinner. She sounded really sweet.

I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the bill. I knew he would pay, but I was planning to do the polite thing and offer to pay my share. Let me say, thank God he said I didn’t have to worry about it before I could get my wallet out because my $40 definitely would not have covered it. My share alone was $345. Yes. My share alone. The bill in total was something like $2k. My meal that night is pretty much my living expenses budget for a week and a half. INSANE.

We made out but it was his best friend who took me home in his sports car because he had to work that night since he flew out the next day.

Anyway GTB is staying at my apartment for a week till she gets herself settled and that is totally cool - obviously. Luckily for her my house mates are also cool about this. But now she has decided she is going to stay in a hostel for the rest of the month. It’s kinda sucky, but she can’t stay in my apartment as this isn’t fair to my house mates. It’s a tiny apartment as it is with 3 people living in it, let along 4 or 5 (we have another guest coming to stay this month). To be fair, there was a vacant room in our apartment and I offered it to GTB but she didn’t want to commit to anything and NOW she’s screwed herself over.

Now in May, I’m moving into my new apartment. And GTB wants to share the apartment with me and at first I was cool with this because she’d pay half the rent, but since having her stay with me this week, I don’t know if this is going to work out. At least in this apartment, despite how cramped it is, there are separate rooms and a lounge room. GTB is really incapable of going out on her own and exploring the city, so I feel like she is constantly with me 24/7!! The other night I was SO cranky because I cooked us lunch and it would’ve been NICE of her to offer to help wash the dishes. So I started washing and she offered to wash the dishes and I said OK. The next night the dishes were still there and when I asked about them, she said she was “taking back” her offer to wash the dishes. So I ended up cleaning! FRICK! I asked if she wouldn’t mind hanging in the lounge room for 30 minutes because I needed “Me time” and she acted all offended.

I mean, despite how annoying she can be sometimes (hell, I am too) I actually don’t want to hate her after May so I told her she MIGHT need to find her own place. My new place is a nice studio, but there are no rooms and no privacy and place for personal time! Plus admittedly, I was really looking forward to having my own place.

Of course I feel terrible because she doesn’t have any friends here in NY except me, but she’s not exactly trying either. If we live together in May, I’m not going to be able to go out with my friends on my own because I’ll feel bad about leaving her at home and honestly, I don’t want to become like a two-person act. I discussed this with her tonight after I came home from a date, and told her that there was no way one could go out without inviting the other, and she said “But I let you go out on your own tonight!” and I had to remind her IT WAS A DATE and not inviting her was a given!

It is a wonder how we travelled for 7 weeks together living in small hotel rooms or relatives bedrooms, but I think we survived because Boy Travel Buddy was our buffer.

Plus… I must admit I am a little bitter she has seemed to bypassed the most excruciating experience that New Yorkers go through - apartment hunting. I feel like she waits for me to find a cushy place and then decides to join the party. It is definitely a lesson everyone should experience to really appreciate and love your home!

What do you think? Is it better to be a good person and let her live with my in May but hate her at the end of it? Or ask her to find her own place and still remain friends?

1) The NARROW bathroom
When you sit on the crapper, your nose is a mere 10 cms from the wall if you’re sitting slightly hunched. This really rules out any chance of getting any decent reading done in there.

2) CREAKY wooden floors
They are SO loud. I pretty much know all the bowel movement times of my housemates and they know mine because we have to walk past each others rooms and make a racket walking on the floors to get to the bathroom. You can also hear the neighbours on the top floor.

3) NEIGHBOURS (in other buildings)
When you stand in our kitchen cooking, our neighbour in the building NEXT DOOR can pretty much see you tearing up as you chop onions and can SMELL what you’re cooking. This is especially awkward because I like to cook in my pyjamas. The other day I heard someone sneezing and I thought it was my house mate - it wasn’t. It was the man on the top floor in the building next door. I could’ve whispered “Bless you” and he would’ve heard me. I thank GOD none of the neighbours are getting any because that would be really awkward and I would be envious.

4) HOUSEMATES
I think I got really lucky with my housemates considering horror stories I’ve heard from others (New York is full of mental people and kleptomaniacs apparently.) However, numero uno flaw with the housemates is their laziness! I am always the one taking out the garbage (down 5 flights of stairs) 3x a week, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping…So the other day, the light in the bathroom blew a fuse and as a lesson I decided not to do anything about it and would let them deal with something for once. I have my showers in the morning when I can get natural light so I’m not fussed. My house mates response? My American housemate moves out of the apartment for a fucking week and the Aussie housemate (who is 6ft and is the most capable to do anything about the high ceiling light) goes to the deli across the road and buys a candle.

5) 5 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS
Enough said. The UPS man or delivery boy always gives us evils. I am in the habit now of tipping generously. Usually you tip 15% but the other night my Chinese came to $12 and I still gave the delivery man a $5 tip - $1 for every flight of stairs.

I can’t imagine Easter egg hunting is as fun over here in New York for kids. I mean, parents would just have to hide them in their tiny apartments. I have fond memories of searching for colourful aluminium wrapped eggs in the garden and under leafy plants.

At first I thought my Easter was going to be pretty quiet and I planned to ignore it, but it turned out to be such a memorable day. My girl friends asked me to meet them for a bout of shopping so we spent a couple of hours roaming the streets and popping into the normal chains. We stopped by street vendors and I bought a $5 pair of sunglasses! Bargain! In the afternoon we walked back to the Village to have afternoon tea, and discovered this street fair just at the cross street to my apartment!! My road was blocked off for the fair and there were these markets with cheap jewellery and art and clothes and knick knacks and AMAZING street food - fried pork, cajun rice, sweet potatoes, herbed chicken, corn dogs, satays and deserts. I wanted to try all the food. I settled with fried Oreos!! (Oreos in batter deep fried coated with icing sugar). I had one and threw then rest away. The place was colourful and the sun was shining. It was one of the most amazing days I’ve experienced. I was thankful for the sun and the sounds and the sights and smells and amazing friends who were just as excited about the day as I was. We had afternoon tea at a nearby cake shop and I ended up going back to the street fair to buy some food for dinner that night.

Easter was bearable without family because I have my Jewish friends who seem completely oblivious to the holiday. Christmas on the other hand (even though my Jewish folk don’t celebrate it) will be completely unbearable on my own.

Anyway, all of a sudden, I shit you not, but it’s like the clock struck 12 and everyone just LEFT. This guy I’m flirting with tells me to come out with him, but I’m wearing the mother fucker stilettos from hell and tell him I’ll go to Mikes (where I always have a change of clothes/shoes) to change my foot attire. Anyway to cut to the chase, Perth has the WORST taxi service in the whole universe and Mike and I are the LAST ones at this party waiting for a cab. I mean, the host was hosing down his yard and packing up chairs and the mojito machine whilst we were waiting. I got an earful from Mike and it was horrible, because he was right.

Anyway I thought I learnt my lesson, but apparantly I didn’t because last night, I had another case of regret not leaving the party when it was going well, instead of rock bottom.

So bear with me as I try to be as discrete as possible…

I went to see these semi-famous bands play. I ended up going SOLO because my friend flaked out and couldn’t go and I really didn’t want to miss out. I kinda thought people might befriend me being alone and all, but that really wasn’t the case. Ha! So much for positive thinking. Luckily there were a few smiles exchanged with one of the guys from the band and we end up talking… then flirting… then talk about going out the next night… and then finally the exchange of numbers. Now THIS is the point where I should’ve left, but no. Silly me. I couldn’t help myself.

Five fucking hours later, we are sitting at the bar, we are both completely sloshed and he is rubbing my back and patting my hair from what I can only think is him being loyal, because we are both pursuing conversation elsewhere because talking to each other is the last thing we want to do.

And I regret not leaving earlier, because I am sure if we were out at some hole in the wall restaurant the next night and could actually hear each other to get to know each other, it would’ve possibly worked out, but from our time together I thought he was sweet, but oh so BORING. I craved this rich conversation and a back and forth of intellect and similar interests, but he didn’t know who MacGyver was and never watched Groundhog Day. C’mon! I’m by no means a fan of MacGyver but was he completely oblivious to the 80’s?

So I FINALLY leave at 3am and we are so sick of each other that no one dares to mention seeing each other again.

Me - Ok. I’m leaving. Bye.
Rocker - Ok Bye.
Me - Bye.
Rocker - Did I spend enough time with you?
Me - No. But it was fun.
Rocker - Oh…
Me - Bye.

I just wish I would learn already. I have such an attraction to rockstars with skinny leg jeans and some vintage shirt that I always seem to forget they never seem to be able to offer me any goods in the personality department. Sorry - sweeping generalisation. But give me someone who can talk to me about movies, and art, and pop culture, and travel!

Oh another thing - this band had a groupie of girls travelling with them from Oz. And well, they were THE unfriendliest bunch of bitches I have ever met. Since when did it become cool to be a groupie?