Time for another book excerpt!
I’m sitting on a bench in Central Park dedicated to someone whose legacy is a collection of steel and pigeon shit-stained wood. This is where people like myself wait for our next disaster date to show up, looking absolutely nothing like their profile picture. Thanks for dying Gertrude; this bench is super convenient for both the pre-date waiting game and post-date pizza party for one meltdown! An incredible amount of my life was wasted on benches like Gertrude’s, waiting on some asshole with a patchy mustache, a name that required a YouTube tutorial to pronounce (I have a type, back off), and the conversation skills of Helen Keller to show up.
The dates were exhausting, but at least I learned a lot about human nature. For example, I learned that it’s never me; it’s always them. I know this because dozens of men have texted, “It’s not you, it’s me,” which I guess means I’m out of everyone’s league? Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised; I am pretty neat.
Let me set the scene for you. I’m sitting in my first NYC apartment, a one-bedroom I share with a friend that made the move from Ohio with me. He claimed our living room so I’ve called the master bedroom home. The centerpiece of this room is a Gazelle elliptical. Deep down, I’m actually a 90-year-old QVC addicted female, who takes her fitness just seriously enough to buy a large piece of workout equipment to glare at while eating.
One cold winter’s night, while binge eating cheese balls out of a giant jar like my hero Honey Boo Boo Child so often does, I looked out my window and took in the beautiful view. A hobo under the FDR Drive quickly caught my eye. He wore a furry Kangol hat as he slowly tap danced his bath salt high away. He also yelled, "Fuck President Nixon!" every so often which I thought was really powerful stuff.
It was in this moment I realized I better act quick before I too become one of these lonely hobo types, dancing alone dangerously close to the East River. This gentleman's fashionable headwear suggests that he too likely had the same lofty dreams of stardom as I.