Sex in the City

5 Oct

A new post is coming soon, but in the meantime, here’s an awesome post from a fellow blogger that most of us still-single LA chicks can relate to. Enjoy!!!!


Sex In the City…

5 Oct

Sex In the City…

A new post is coming soon, but in the meantime, check out this awesome post written by a fellow solider on the battlefield of love.

Happy Hearts

29 May

ImageThe next few weeks were something straight out of a fairytale. Romantic dinners in small, candlelit restaurants, front row tickets to my first hockey game (Go, Kings!!!!), cozy nights spent in his Studio City townhouse cooking dinner together and watching movies. Midnight talks that never seemed to end before dawn.


We’d even picked up each other’s quirks. He once caught himself using one of my sound effects during an interview to emphasize a point he was making. While I found myself using a few of his catchphrases with my friends, none of whom understood our inside jokes.


I had found it. I had found him. Someone who supported my dreams, encouraged my vision, and held my hand when I was scared to show that I wasn’t alone.


Someone who laughed at all my jokes (okay, not all, but most of them), treated me like a queen, and told me unabashedly how beautiful I was.


Someone who took the time to teach me the rules of football so that, instead of calling his boys to come over and watch the game, he’d call me.


Someone who put me first, accepted me for me, and always made me feel like it was an honor to spend time with me. For the first time in my life, I’d finally met someone who was interested in building something real with me.


And that, in turn, made me deliriously happy.  He made my heart happy.



Coughdrops, Post-Its, Pens……

18 Oct



Coughdrops. Pens. And Post-its.Coughdrops. Pens. And Post-its. Coughdrops. Pens. And Post-its.

I repeated the list over and over in my head as I hurried down the busy Manhattan block. A few weeks on the East Coast had quickly turned into a few months. I was still getting my bearings in the big city, but I’d finally fallen into a routine.
As my weekends were always in Philly with my girl, Reese, the top of each week was always spent preparing for my week in NYC. After a two or three hour ride into the city by either train or bus, I would catch the green line to Harlem where I’d hole up in Versace’s alcove studio for the better part of the week. Days at the mag had me navigating both the streets of Manhattan and the subway system as I ran errands. While my nights mostly had me in Harlem yapping it up with Versace.
Weekends in Philly were usually spent curled up and cozy in my bed. Or lounging on Reese’s sofa while I watched Netflix.
As I turned the corner and passed Gansevoort Park Hotel, I pulled my jacket in a little tighter. It had gotten chilly in NYC, but not so chilly that I needed a real NYC coat. At least not yet.
I hated to admit it, but life in NYC wasn’t the “Sex and the City” experience I’d imagined. The constant hustle and bustle of the city was not as exhilarating as I’d hoped it’d be. On a good day, it was just plain exhausting. Most days, however, it was frightfully intimidating. Everything from trying to hail a cab from Manhattan to Harlem (practically impossible in the middle of the night, especially when it’s raining) to riding crowded subway trains at rush hour to getting lost in the Bronx while trying to find the one measly Target in all of NYC just had me frustrated, tired, and homesick.
I sighed and looked up. I’d finally made it to my destination, Duane Reade. Gosh, had these people ever heard of a Walgreen’s for God’s sake????
As I set about searching for the first item on my list, coughdrops, one question kept nagging at me, and although I was sure I already knew the answer, had known the answer from the moment my plane first landed in that godforsaken town they call Newark, I wasn’t sure I was ready to say it out loud.
How could I? After everything Reese and Versace had done for me? I didn’t want to disappoint either one of them. Especially when they’d done everything they could to help me settle into life on the East Coast.
“Excuse you,” a woman I’d accidentally bumped into muttered as she glared at me. I shook my head. New Yorkers.
I moved over to the aisle where post-it notes should be. Ordinarily, I would’ve just gotten such an item from Target, but unlike LA which had one on every corner, Tarjay was a rare find in the Big Apple.
“Five dollars for a pack of post-its?!” I exclaimed a little too loudly. Yet another thing I’d never gotten used to in NYC. The exorbitant price of EVERYTHING. What the hell did these people do for a living? I’d decided that everyone, including the janitors, must make close to six figures in the city just to afford basic things in life, like rent and food.
I was so shocked that I forgot the last thing on my list.
“Coughdrops…Post-its….Coughdrops…Post-its….Crap. Forget it, I’m going home.”
And that’s when I knew for sure.
“I am going home,” I repeated with new-found confidence. “I’m going home.”

Weary Traveler

10 Jul

Beep! Beep! Beeeep! BEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! I swatted my phone in a desperate attempt to silence the annoying alarm while cocking one eye open to check the time. 5:45 am glared back at me with a vengeance. I groaned and begrudgingly slid outta bed.

It was that time again. Time to brave a brisk five minute walk to the metro, a 15-minute subway ride, and then a long, exhausting two-hour ride into the Big Apple. Once there, I would then make a mad dash down 8th Ave. , arriving at my ultimate destination, Two Park Avenue, at approximately 10:15 am. And then, right around 5:45 pm, I’d do the whole thing again, only in reverse. I got tired just thinking about it.

But, this was the price to be paid for pursuing my dreams. Reese had been wonderful enough to offer me a place to stay in Philly and since my salary at the mag was pretty much non-existent, staying in NYC just wasn’t an option. At least not yet.

So, until I became a big-time editor or just made enough money to actually afford a place in NYC, I was forced to do this horribly strenuous four hour commute.


“Poppy, please make sure you contact our expert for the story due next month. Also, don’t forget, we need those shots from the PR execs for that gifting article. We’re still short about five. And the Deputy Editor needs you to fact-check a feature for her. Got that?”

“Yes,” I nodded as I tried to capture all of my editor’s notes on my notepad.

“Good. Thanks,” she said and rushed off to some important event.

I loved my gig. Loved, loved, LOVED it. Loved attending the editorial meetings each week. Loved sitting at my desk poring over tons and tons of e-mails from PR folks trying to get their products placed in the magazine. Loved walking through the colorful office that segued into various titles, all published by the same company. Loved walking into my office every single day on Park Avenue . Loved seeing the quirky, interesting writers and editors that dotted the office. Even loved the awesome red bathroom on my floor that always seemed to have a curious odor. Loved every single freakin’ thing about my job except that daggone hellish commute of mine.

I shook my head and turned my attention to my monitor. My phone buzzed.

What time are you free for lunch?

It was Versace, a friend from college aptly named for his predilection for all of the “finer things” life had to offer. I quickly respondedand then set about working on my tasks for the day.


“Poppppppy! How long has it been? Ten years?” Versace asked as he squeezed my hand.

We were sitting inside one of the cute, trendy restaurants just two blocks down from my office. I’d passed it every single day since I started working at the magazine and was glad for the chance to finally get to try it.

“That sounds about right, V. I can’t believe I’ve been outta college for a freakin’ decade! Damn, I feel old,” I smiled and took a sip of my drink.

“What’ll it be, guys?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll have the club sandwich and a -. Mmmh. Is it too early for a cocktail?” V asked.

“Hey, it’s happy hour somewhere in the world.”

“You’re right. I’ll try this little concoction,” he said while pointing to the drink menu.

“So, Poppy. How are you? How have you been? Tell me about the last ten years of your life.”

Over the next hour and a half, we shared our journeys since leaving New Orleans . We shared hilarious stories about the various men in our lives who had come and gone, and we reminisced just a bit about our college days. V had done quite well for himself. Working in the financial district, he had just struck a new contract that allowed him three months off during the year.

“Three months? Are you serious?”

“Yep. It’s called savvy negotiating, my dear.”

“Savvy, indeed. What do you do with the time you have off?”

“I travel. I work out. I travel. I just got back from Paris and London . Next year, I’m going to Australia .”

“That’s incredible, V.”

“It works. At least for now. And what about you? You’re starting a new career as a writer, now?”

“Trying. Trying.”

“Well, I admire your hustle. I have no doubt that you’ll make it, Poppy.”


Hours later, after my 2 ½ hour commute home, as I was dragging my tired, exhausted self into bed, I heard my phone buzz. I sleepily pressed the buttons necessary to unlock it. There was a text from V.

Poppy! It was SO good seeing you today. I was thinking, maybe you could just crash with me during the week. That way, you can save some moolah and get to know NYC. I really think you’d like it if you got the chance to really know it.

I smiled and thanked him profusely via text. To which he replied,

No worries. You know I’ve always been Team Poppy.

I put my phone down and whispered another thank-you, this time to God for sending me such a wonderful, wonderful friend.


Birthday Blues

24 May

“Pahhhhhhhhhhhhhh-pyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Poppy, wake up. It’s 7 o’clock.”


“Five more minutes, please,” I moaned from beneath my covers.


I rolled over and tried to block the light from my eyes.


“Get up, get up, get up, Birthday Girl!”


“Ugh,”I replied and tried to bury myself even further under my blanket.


“Poppy, come on! Dee will be here any minute,” Reese responded happily as she ducked into the bathroom.


My birthday. In years past, just the thought of celebrating my own personal holiday was enough to have me swinging from the rafters. But this year? Not so much.


I hadn’t been on the East Coast for more than a few weeks, but already I was homesick. I missed everything about LA – from the endless stream of sunny days to the late-night roof-top parties in downtown Los Angeles. From lazy days spent walking around the Santa Monica Pier to the more ambitious ones spent in front of my laptop at an outdoor café on Melrose. My body may have been in NYC, but my heart and mind were still wandering the streets of Los Angeles.


 Nevertheless, I was on the East Coast working for a major magazine while taking my own bite outta the Big Apple. It was time to make the most of it.


“Poppy? Are you up yet?” Reese called from the bathroom.


 I sighed and hoisted myself outta the bed.



The rain was pouring down hard by the time we hailed a cab to dinner. As Dee and Reese slid into the backseat, I took a moment to look out at the gloomy landscape. The smell of wetness filled the air as I gazed at the tall buildings surrounding me. I sighed and hopped in the cab.


Driving through the city, I started to see familiar some familiar sites.


“You have a Macy’s? And a BCBG? And a mall? There’s a mall here?”


“Uh, yeah, Poppy.”

My friends looked at me with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. I smiled.


Within minutes we arrived at our destination. Reese had picked out a restaurant that had a nice, chill lounge vibe along with great Southern food.


“This is really cool,” I said as I admired the sleek décor.


“Yeah, I found it on Living Social,” Reese replied with a wink. “I did think there’d be more people here, though.”


We looked around and saw a handful of folks quietly enjoying their dinner.


“Not what I was expecting for a Friday night,” Reese said with a frown.


We took our seats and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what I would’ve been doing had I been in Los Angeles.


I had been planning a downtown pub crawl. Dinner and starter drinks at Church and State with about twenty of my closest friends. Cocktails at Varnish followed by mayhem at the Association.  And then, I would stumble down the street, hand in hand with Mr. CSI to the group’s favorite hang-out, The Falls. There we would dance the night away while the DJ spun ‘90s hip-hop mixed with a few rock numbers to appease the eclectic crowd.


It would’ve been great. Wonderful, even.

“Happy birthday to youuuuuuuu. Happy birthday to youuuuuuuu!”


My thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of voices. Turns out our sweet waitress had gathered what was left of the wait staff to serenade me.


Reese and Dee laughed and smiled as my birthday dessert, replete with candle was set before me.  And that’s when I saw it.


Reese’s excitement and happiness at the very idea of ushering in another year with me. The fact that Dee, a woman I’d just met through Reese, had driven two hours in inclement weather just to celebrate the birthday of someone she’d only just met that night. And finally, the sweet faces of the weary staff who Reese had somehow talked into regaling me with a birthday song.


That’s when I saw that, although I missed LA and all of my friends there, I was very much among friends on this coast. Great, great friends who loved me and appreciated me. It was enough to make a girl’s heart melt.


“Happy birthday, Poppyyyyyyy!” Reese and Dee cried in unison as I blew out the candle.






My Hoboken Home

13 Apr

Hoboken, New Jersey, had definitely grown on me. Far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city to maintain a certain small town charm but close enough to feel like, “Hey, the city’s there for the taking whenever I want it.” And I liked that.


The feeling of being able to escape to my own little quiet piece of the world while being able to literally gaze across the water to Manhattan from my bedroom window allowed me to keep this big, monstrous city at arm’s length as I tried to figure it out and get to know it for a bit. I really liked that.


I had also grown attached to my funny, not-so-little canine friend. We’d become quite the handsome pair. As I shuffled between the kitchen, living room, and bedroom, he softly padded behind me, listening as I yapped on and on about my day and impressions of the city. He’d lay at my feet while I worked away on my computadora, lifting his head up every now and again to get his ear scratched.


Boy, would I miss that dog and his overbite.


Plus, the people in Hoboken were nice. Perfect strangers would often strike up conversation with me as I strolled the neighborhood. And though I was careful to have my wits about me at all times, the city seemed safe. The kinda place where you could enjoy late night meandering through the streets without worries of getting mugged or worse.


Seemed like a great place to just…be.


But, alas, it was time to say good-bye. I was travelling south to Philly to kick it with my childhood friend, Reese. Given that my position with the magazine only required me to be in the office a few days a week, I’d decided to split my time between Philly and NYC. And my dear friend, Reese, had agreed to host me during my Philly time.


I was excited and… a little nervous.


I didn’t know very much about Philly other than its association with a particular sandwich. Would I like it? Would it like me? I didn’t know, but I did know that I was ready to claim a home somewhere on the East Coast. And for the time being, that home would be Philly.


As I dragged my bags along the cobble-stone streets, I took in the quaint storefronts one last time. It was hard to believe I’d only been in Hoboken for a few days. It felt like so much longer, but in a good way.


There was the falafel shop that I’d fallen in love with. Across the street, a cute dance studio.  I peeked in the window of the one New Orleans restaurant that I’d kept meaning to try but never did. And I took a moment to look up at the great big statue I’d passed every morning as I rushed to get to the subway.


“I have no idea who you are or why you were so important to have had a statue made in your likeness, but I will miss you all the same,” I said as I lightly touched the base of the sculpture.


I arrived at the train station where I was faced with an immediate challenge – how to get all my bags downstairs to the platform.


“I gotta learn to travel lighter,” I said to myself as I shook my head.


And with that, I took one last look at Manhattan’s beautiful skyline before disappearing into the train depot.

WTH??! – Part Two

18 Mar

I stared at my phone in disbelief.


“He’s –“ I tried to say again, but I couldn’t get the words out.

Instead, I passed the phone to my dear friend, Reese. She read the text message aloud.


“Poppy, I think we should just be strictly friends,” she read.




Four Days Ago…


Buzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzz. I quickly snatched my vibrating phone off of the table.




“Poppy! Hey!”


“Rick? Is everything okay?”


My question was answered by a deep sigh. It had been three days or so since I’d last heard from Rick. He quickly explained.


“My mom was sick. She had an allergic reaction to something she ate, and I had to rush her to the hospital. I’m so sorry I didn’t call.”


“Oh, no! That’s horrible! How’s she doing now?”


“She’s better. In fact, I have to take her to a follow-up appointment tomorrow.”


“Wow. I’m so sorry, Rick.”


“Thanks. How are you?”


“I’m good, just got assigned a new story, so pretty excited about that.”


“Great. That’s awesome…Listen, I have to run. I have to get ready for tomorrow.”


“Oh, okay. Take care.”


As I pressed the “End” button on my phone, I immediately felt something was amiss. Something just didn’t add up.


I heard my phone vibrate again and picked it up. It was my good friend, V, asking me what time we were heading out for drinks.


I quickly responded and jumped up to get ready for a night out in Manhattan.




One Day Ago….


“Oh my God, Poppy! Tell me how much you love New York!” a very giddy Liv gushed through the phone.


“It’s pretty neat, I must admit.”


“Mmmmh-hmmm. I know. My sister and I LOVED it when we were out there. All the shopping and the food and- wait, have you tried all the great food????”


It was obvious that Liv was in love with NYC. And as much as I appreciated the opportunity to be in the Big Apple, I was incredibly homesick for LA.


“Sooooo, what’s going on with your new boy?”


“Rick? Well, actually, I wanted to ask you about him. I feel like, something’s off.”


“Uh-oh.Something like what?”


“Like, I don’t know. Just something.”


“Well, you want me to check with Dante? I mean, that is his boy and all.”


“Could you please?”


“Yeah! I’ll text him now.”


“Cool. Thanks so much.”


“No problem. And hey, have fun in NY. It’s an awesome city.”


“Thanks, Liv.”


I smiled and hung up.


Fifteen minutes later, however, I was frowning. I’d received a text message from Liv.


Spoke to Dante. He said that he’s not sure what Rick told you, and that you should probably wait until you get back to talk with him. Whatever that means.”




And that’s when I got it.


His constant questions about who I’d told about us and what I’d told them about us.


The fact that he NEVER called me from his house.


The sudden disappearing act.


It was as plain as day.




I don’t get it. What does that mean?” Reese asked as she handed me back the phone.


“It means that the bastard is married,” I said in disgust as I tossed my phone on my bed.




6 Mar

“I don’t believe this. He’s, he’s-“


I could barely get the words out. It was just so…unreal. I mean, this wasn’t supposed to happen.


“Poppy? What happened?” Reese hovered over me as I tried in vain to catch my breath.


“He’s –“




Two Weeks Ago….


So, when are we gonna Skype?”


I was on the phone with Rick. Amazingly, we’d only grown closer since I’d hopped a plane to the East Coast. We were already making plans to visit each other within the next few weeks.


“Uh,I don’t know.”


“You don’t know? Don’t you wanna see me?”


“P, how can you even ask me that? Of course, I wanna see you.”


“Alright, then. Get your butt home and set up your Skype!!”


I shook my head and gazed out of the window. Hoboken, New Jersey had actually grown on me. It had a certain small town charm that was quite nice and unexpected. I made a face at my canine pal and settled back onto the sofa.


“Alright, alright.”


“Hey, how close are you to your house?”


“Oh, I’m still at work.”


“Isn’t it, like, ten o’clock at night there?”


“Yeah, I had to work late.”




I shook my head. This was the third time I’d asked him to sign up for Skype. And every time we talked about it, he seemed to have some lame excuse for not having set it up. It didn’t make any sense. I mean, how hard was it to just go home and download the damn program???


“So, tell me more about the magazine. When are they promoting you to editor?”




10 Days Ago….


The clock read 2:32 pm. I only had 10 more minutes before I had to return to the office. I waved down a sales rep for the 20th time.

“So, how much longer will it be?”


The sales guy looked toward the back where a technician was screwing around with the back of my phone.


“You should probably just leave it with us for a few hours.”


Great. Just great. I’d only had the phone for a total of 3 months, and already it was acting a fool. I’d been forced to bring it in because it had been dead for two days. No way to make or receive calls from my girlfriends. No way for my editor to reach me while I was out in Manhattan running errands. And no way for Rick and I to whisper “I miss you” to each other every night.


I sighed and took off for my office, leaving my new cell phone in the clumsy hands of a cell phone technician.




One Week Ago…


I looked down at my new phone again. Nothing. No new text messages. No missed calls. No new voicemails.


I quickly finished editing the column I was working on and then shot a quick e-mail off to my editor.


I sat back in my chair and stared out of the window. All I could see was skyscraper after skyscraper. It was funny; if I tried really hard, I could simply pretend I was back in LA looking at the tall office buildings that dotted the downtown skyline.


I heard a soft *ping* and looked at my computer screen. My editor had responded with a message asking me to track down an environmental health expert for an upcoming article.


I picked up my phone and began to quickly type a message.


“Hey, Rick. Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Phone was down, but it’s good now. Hope everything’s okay. Call me when you can.”


I put down my phone and started in on my next assignment.


To Be Continued…


Perfect Guy

20 Feb

“So, I know you’re in the air right now, probably somewhere over Illinois or Michigan, but I just had to let you know that… I think you’re amazing. And I just wanted you to know that. So, yeah. Call me when you land, babe. Bye.”


I smiled for the 50th time that day and replayed the message. Rick and I had talked every day since I left LA. In fact, eager to spend more time with me, he’d even volunteered to shuttle me to the airport the morning I left.





“So, what time should I pick you up?”


“Um, well, I need to drop off my car at my girlfriend’s, run by storage, and-“


“Poppy, I don’t want you to miss your plane, so…”


“Uh, I guess you should pick me up around 10 am.”


“Ok. Why don’t I pick you up a little earlier and take you to breakfast? We’ll grab a quick bite on the way to LAX.”


“Sounds good.”


And it was good. Not only did he show up right on time, he showed up flashing that oh-so-sexy smile of his. The ultimate gentleman, he stood whenever I got up from the table or returned to take my seat.


At the airport, he parked so that he could carry my bags inside. Then he waited patiently while I repacked a few bags (Curse those pesky weight restrictions!). He then walked me as far as he could before reluctantly saying good-bye.


He was perfect. And sweet. And perfect.





Our daily conversations got me through my harrowing first night in the city and continued to get me through my first week in the Big Apple. I looked forward to hearing his voice each day, and his words of support and encouragement helped me not feel so lonely in a big, unfamiliar city.


Today was no different. I was anxious to tell him about my first day at the magazine. I couldn’t wait to rehash my subway travails, the rush of excitement I felt sprinting through the busy streets of Manhattan, the awe that overtook me as I gazed up at the towering skyscrapers.


I was dying to tell him about each of the editors I’d met that day and how happy I was to finally be in such a creative space, doing what I do best – writing. It had been a good day, and sharing that with Rick would be the icing on my cake.


I looked down at my cell. It was already 6:40 pm, and I still needed to grab dinner. I wasn’t quite used to the time difference yet, but realizing it was only 3:40 pm on the West Coast, I decided that my report of the day’s activities would have to wait. At least until after dinner….