Single Girl Diaries: Pearls

Well it’s only been one year and some change since I last took the time to crank out one of these things. Life is a little busy with a full-time gig in New York City. I have a 401K now, so as you might imagine, I have no facking idea what I’m doing. But things are good. My roommates still like me, my cat still hates me and I haven’t been fired yet. Overall, a successful year and some change.

The last time we met, I’d updated the world on my first Tinder date who may or may not have been a serial killer that ghosted me. Guess we’ll never know. Since then, I’ve gone on approximately zero dates. One might say I’m ~killing it~ in the romance department. But come on, these are the Single Girl Diaries. You don’t actually expect me to date, do you?


As I’ve mentioned, I’m debilitatingly awkward when it comes to the opposite sex. And it’s gone on so long that now I’m 23 and have no idea how to speak to an attractive dude. My mind is like the SpongeBob episode where his brain minions can’t find the information necessary to function. Dat me. It’s awesome.


To illustrate my most recent “Someone Stop Her” moment, I take you back to last weekend when my roommate Nicola and I headed over to one of our new favorite dives, Pearls. It’s quiet, cheap, intimate and we get seats at the bar every time. Huge fan. Best of all, the bartenders are always way too attractive for me to function. And Saturday was no exception. Tall, chiseled and flirting for tips, our bartender was the epitome of Brooklyn hip. So naturally, my mind burst into flames.

It started when Nicola knocked over her empty glass. Twice. (To her credit, the coaster got caught. Twice.) But Hot Bartender (HB) saw and smiled at me like we were sharing an inside joke. Obviously I just had to blurt out, “SHE’S AN IDIOT.”

HB gave me a “Girl Chill” look and walked away. I immediately apologized to my dear friend. She’s not an idiot. But I knew I was in trouble. The word vomit was already flowing.

Shortly after my little outburst, Nicola went to the bathroom leaving me alone with HB. He was distracted at first, waiting for some other patrons to order. As they deliberated drink choices, HB glanced over at me. I stared into his dark eyes as we made prolonged eye contact. The kind that’s too long for comfort. The kind that a rational person would look away from. But I’m irrational.

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Not like a cute, charming head nod, y’all. An up nod that made the entire bar temperature drop 10 degrees. He just turned around and walked away. Behind a bar. That’s 10 feet long. Walked away.

I immediately text my roommates the mayday call reserved for celeb sightings and me embarrassing myself. There was no sympathy, but much laughter. I needed to be stopped. But first I needed another drink.

As Nicola returned from the bathroom, we had to ask HB for another round. He played it cool like I hadn’t just pulled a move straight out of an 8th grader’s cool boy playbook. As he walked down the bar, HB looked directly at me and said, “Ellise, right?” I was so charmed by his ability to correctly pronounce my name that I hadn’t noticed he was actually about to swipe my card when the night was still young. Boo was trying to get rid of me.

Nicola and I flagged him down like street maniacs trying to get on the Today Show, yelling that we just wanted to order more drinks. HB came over laughing after understanding that we were there to stay.

My trashfire of a brain felt it was essential for me to explain that “WE’RE ALCOHOLICS LOL.” (We aren’t alcoholics.)

That was really the last time that poor man would interact with us, other than the check. As you can see, I’ve matured a whopping not at all when it comes to charm and flirtation, something I’m sure my father is thrilled about. Though my grandmas are very adamant about the hot goss (gossip, Grandma) of my New York lifestyle.

While I may still be on the single grind, rest assured I’m not trying very hard. I’ve got the dating apps, but never agree to dates (yeah that person). I’ve got plenty to keep me busy as is between work, social life, a stellar church group, etc., so I guess you just get stuck reading my tales of almosts. I promise I’ll try to be more exciting in the future.



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