Stamped: July 10th, 2007 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: No Tags.

This morning I took a cab to work. I live on the east side downtown and I work on the west side in midtown. So the cabbie decided to be creative and not go across Houston (pronounced HOUSE-ton to all of you who don't live on it) which is always a nightmare. Instead we took a little drive through Greenwich Village on the way to Sixth Avenue.

I used to frequent the Village. My best friend went to NYU so whenever I came to visit, these were the streets I wandered. Since moving to my uber trendy East Village neighborhood, I am lazy and don't make it west unless I'm going to be compensated. But I still have some fun memories, one of which concerns West 3rd Street.

I once broke up with a really hot guy in front of the McDonalds on West 3rd Street.

He was a 6′3 blonde Italian, fresh off the boat from Italy. I met him at a bar on Lafayette and within five minutes of meeting we were making out and a couple of hours later he was paying for the cab to my then-apartment in Brooklyn. I couldn't believe my good fortune. We were hooking it up in my room and I noticed a few reasons that this guy had fallen into my lap and none of them were good. First off, he told me he loved me at least five times. Not cool considering I didn't know his last name. Then the pants came off and I had to quickly cover up my disappointment at the tiny pink number he expected to do something to me with.

I'd never planned on calling him again, but somehow he ended up coming to brunch with my friends and me the next morning. Since he was so obviously hot, I didn't mind. Then he just kept calling me. And since I'm lazy, persistence from guys usually works with me. If you keep calling, I'll eventually get tired of ignoring your calls, and I'll probably end up going out with you.

So we went on a few dates and I kept our sleepovers to a minimum seeing as that I'd met a new guy and that was going quite well. Then we met for dinner one night over on Macdougal Street or Minetta Lane or one of those little alleys in the Village. We're at this Mexican place called Panchitos and he says to me in his totally hot accent,

"I want to take you to Roma. My mama will love you."

I nearly choked on my burrito. I tried to laugh it off but I made up my mind before I downed my third margarita that even though this guy was SO FINE, this "thing" was ending tonight.

So we walked around after dinner for a bit and finally we end up in front of the McDonalds on West 3rd Street, talking. He was riding me about always hanging out with my friends and never hanging out with him. I asked him to get me an ice cream cone. When he came back out with the cone I took it from him, took a lick, and said,

"Listen, this isn't working for me right now. You're moving too fast and I'm really not so into that. So I have to go."

And I turned around and went to the West 4th subway stop to catch the F train home.

And that's the story of Brandy and the Tall Hot Blonde Italian.

Last 5 posts by Brandy

• Hell House - November 9th, 2007
• 36 going on 11 - October 9th, 2007
• College was a good time. - September 25th, 2007
• I'm the easiet girl ever to break up with - September 18th, 2007
• Christmas Lights - August 28th, 2007