On duty.

Clearly, I am not Carrie Bradshaw.

True, she and I may both have an interest in love and relationships and writing. We may both have good intentions and try to have fun as we journey through each day. But that is about where the similarities end between me and this TV persona. I do not call NYC home. (Although, one day I hope to). I do not romp around in Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahniks. (I'm actually more of a flip-flop and sneaker sort of girl). And I definitely do not have the confusing 'overwhelming-notoriety-yet-convenient-anonymity' that she had in spades. If she was in a club and wanted a drink? Suddenly a man who had seen her column once shows up and it's raining champagne. If she had written something that people disagreed with? Well, we never really saw that part.

Writing a blog about being a chick and covering topics like dating and love can be tough sometimes when people know who you are and you are not protected by the magic of TV. So when it comes to occasionally talking about my dating scene, I find myself having to walk a fine line. I keep it abstract. I stick to very general topics. I tweak unique, identifying details. Basically, I'm big on self-reflection but not at the cost of a serious potential mate's privacy. First, I think it's poor form. And second, if the tables were ever turned, I'd be pretty bummed. So in short, mum's the word.

Attempts at discretion aside, if life is a city for Carrie and I, then dating is kind of like taking a cab. You see one that looks good and you wave it down. You get in, having every faith and hope that you'll get to where you want to go. You check out what it's going to cost you (at face value), you communicate where you want to head and then you kind of let go, and let someone else take the wheel. (To some extent, you can only do so much and the trip is out of your control.) You're cruising along. But soon there's traffic. You suggest an alternate route but then hit one light after another and just can't gain any ground. Or perhaps a wrong turn is made and you end up nowhere near your desired destination. Maybe you find you're stuck in gridlock and you aren't moving forward at all. You may begin to wonder why you even took that cab in the first place. Or you may change course completely, get out before your original destination and decide to take the subway instead. In life and in love, anything can happen out on the open road.


But what happens if you date the cab driver himself?

One night I called for a cab. And Jerry showed up.

He was rocking a Kangol hat, a flannel shirt and he just kept smiling at me in the rear view mirror. He was playing indie rock on his cab radio and we had an instant rapport. We talked about music (we liked much of the same) and movies (ditto) and even though I had been exhausted just moments before, I suddenly wasn't so tired anymore. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the city as we rode down each block and the more we talked the more I felt that feeling of connection that is so hard to replicate.

It was dark. He seemed cute. More important, he seemed nice and like we possibly had some things in common. I gauged him to be about two years older than me. When we reached my house, I paid him my fare.

"I don't know if you'd be into this," he ventured, "but I'd love to call you some time."

Why not? I gave him my number. Soon I found myself heading out for our first date.


I showed up at the movie theater and it was still light outside. As usual on the occasion of a first date, I was equal parts excited (maybe there will be a smooch!), nervous (how's my gloss doing?) and hopeful (maybe he'll be great and maybe we'll be great together.) There was no one around save for some guy also near me at the door that wasn't Jerry. Time passed. This dude was about 20 minutes late! I figured something had just delayed him and I called him on my cell. As he answered, I thought I heard an echo and turned around.

That guy who wasn't Jerry standing in front of the theater? It was him after all. We looked at each other for a moment, still on our phones. Maybe we both had had something in our eyes that night. Because he hadn't recognized me either.

Jerry turned out to be a little different than I remembered. Still handsome, just in a different way. A little chubbier with a little less hair and maybe a little older than in my mind's eye. But looks fade anyway. He was still rocking the flannel and Kangol and here he was, this nice guy wanting to spend time with me and see if the easy conversation we had had that night could translate into something more.

If his cab was pulling up, I was getting in.

That slightly awkward beginning out of the way, we decided to see An Inconvenient Truth. Yeah, I picked it. And yeah, looking back, it was pretty much the worst first date movie I could have possibly chosen. Who picks a movie about climate change for a first date flick? Apparently, this girl. Still, he was a good sport. Our conversation was a little strained as we waited for the movie to start. Was it the fact that we were now facing each other? Had I been too buzzed that night in the cab and felt something that wasn't really there? Hey, not every date is going to be gangbusters right out of the gate. Still, I missed the easy rapport. I chalked it up to both of us being a little nervous. Sometimes good conversation set against a backdrop of moonlight is hard to replicate under the harsh light of day.


A little traffic is normal. Our cab kept going.

The movie came and went and we decided to get coffee. Turkish coffee, specifically, per his request. This just in: one cup will keep you awake for days. I didn't realize that at the time. So there I sat, drinking cup after cup, pretty much vibrating.

Caffeine-high aside, this is where we took a few wrong turns.

"I don't have many friends," Jerry revealed.

"That's ok," I replied. I figured he was shy and I was touched that he had been so honest with me right off the bat. Maybe he was a loner. Maybe he had a couple of friends who were so loyal that he did not find the need for more. I started contemplating the prospect of dating a man whose friends I probably wouldn't need to share him with.

"I mean, I don't have any," he continued, shaking me out of that thought. Had he just moved to the area recently and been so busy that he didn't have time to make some friends? Nope. He'd been there for years. Suddenly an image of the homeless guy who would walk down our block each day looking for recyclable bottles and cans came to mind. Even he had a buddy with him as he walked around.

No friends? I felt myself move to tap the brakes.


"I've only ever had two jobs in my life," he said later on. I started wondering what could keep his attention for that long and so much so that he wouldn't feel a desire to move on. Turns out he had worked at Borders. Um, hello? I'm a writer. I love books. Ergo, I LOVE Borders. Would this mean a discount? (Bonus!) Or meeting authors when they frequented his store? (Game on!) This wasn't sounding bad at all.

"But then I got fired by my prick boss a couple of years ago. What a ...".

Yeah...I can't really reveal the rest of what he said at this point in the conversation since it would raise your eyebrows probably as much as it raised mine. Every expletive you can imagine poured out of him to describe his boss who fired him without, according to him, any reason at all. I started to feel a bit uneasy. Something seemed off.


Anger issues? I was definitely putting some pressure on the brakes at this point.

"That's why I drive a cab," he moved on. "I like the freedom it provides. That and, well, I'm nocturnal."

Uh, come again? Did he just say he's nocturnal? Was I dating Jerry the cabbie or Edward Cullen?
"Yeah, I work nights from about 10pm until 3am."

Eh, not the best schedule for dating but if things went well, perhaps on his nights off we could get together. Still, I wondered, if he would be mostly sleeping when I am awake and if I would be mostly sleeping when he is awake, how would we ever get to know one another? This wasn't necessarily a reason to pull the cab over, per se, but more a really inconvenient truth of my own to deal with.

"I usually get home around 3:30 in the morning. Then I play Dungeons and Dragons until about 7am. I am a third level sorcerer rogue with infinite speed. Yeah, I know a lot of people online who also play."

Apparently I was on a date with a nocturnal Dungeon and Dragons master with anger issues but without friends.

The cab braked short. I had to get out.

Ultimately, my ride was not what I had hoped it would be and I ended up having to take a detour. But the ride was still necessary. Because if I don't continue getting into that cab, I'll never get to where I want to be. So if you are also on the road these days, I hope you hang in there and ultimately reach your final destination: someone who feels like home.

*Writer's note: I'd like to give a special shout out to all of my readers in Canada, Russia and Iran. Thank you so much for stopping by my little site. You make me blush with gratitude.