To All the “Boys”
I’m in a feisty mood. So here’s the fattest fucking exposé on my dating life. At this point, I’ve told you so much about these boys- it might as well be “our” dating life.
380 days of living in New York City, means 380 days of dealing with the up’s and down’s of being courted by New York City men.
Actually “courted” is a strong word for something that goes like: nice drinks & expensive dinners in exchange for 5 months in the talking stage before mutually ghosting each other. My dating life for the past year has been one investment banker after another with an occasional model or athlete in between to keep me on my toes. To say that the men of New York are a different breed would be an understatement. However, in retrospect, they’ve kept my life interesting- and for that I say thank you to all the men who have come and gone, because every one of you have been a learning experience.
Along the way, I’ve spilled quite the tea in real time- telling you about my dates while I’m on them, narrating the embarrassing moments right after, and very publicly wallowing in my heartbreaks. Some of them have iconic names: Pizza Boy, French Boy, Blue-Eyed Boy, Moroccan Mafia Man and so many more. However, many others (that were equally relevant in my life) were never given “boy” names, and practically never mentioned (surprise!).
Why?
Well, for half of them- they knew about the blog- and read every word I wrote. Which made it so much harder to be transparent and spill the tea. For others, our relationship felt a bit more sacred, and closer to my heart. The idea of publicizing it felt like it would ruin the secrecy of what we had between us. And so I kept them under the radar.
But New York is so very small. After a year- almost all the boys I’ve spoken about have found this blog.
Whether it was through friends that follow, their explore page, or my drunk ass spilling it to them- the cat’s outta the bag. So at this point, if I reveal any more to you- I might as well tell you their first name, last name, address, and social security number.
Therefore, instead of writing about them with the names used prior- I’m going to do things a bit differently this time around. I want to genuinely tell you about each and every relevant one- the good, the questionable & the ugly.
A few of them were random encounters on a wild night out, a few of them wined & dined me as a wonderful way to pass time, and one might’ve been love.
Anyways, with that- I’ll let you guess who is who. Read em all or pick n’ choose:
1. The One That Was Actually Gay
What a fun ‘n flirty way to kick this off.
To preface it all, I have to make it known that I have a horrible gaydar. Just the worst. You could show me a picture of James Charles, and I would still probably question whether he’s gay or just takes good care of himself.
Another preface is that I love a well dressed, groomed, and put together man. The whole disheveled, hyper masculine, possible lumberjack thing just doesn’t work for me. However, put a man in a three piece suit, an all black fit, a gold chain, a loose white linen shirt or Paris buckle suit pants & I might just give my hand in marriage on the spot.
Anyways, this man’s mid-winter beater shoes were YSL Chelsea boots. He had the same Moncler coat in three different colors. And every single suit he owned was custom made. Too good to be true? Yeah apparently so.
I knew everything about him, and nothing about him at the same time. He was a veteran New Yorker. He would take me to the coolest places. before I knew that they were the coolest places. My weekends were dinner at Soho House and drinks at Dante after close in that corner booth. Now that I know how coveted those things are in New York- I finally understand how elite this man was & have a better appreciation for him.
He’s quite the mysterious man. He’s one of the youngest executives at a FAANG company, but so very private. Every now and then, he would take a quick nonchalant trip to St. Barts, LA, Miami, London, etc.- which to think of it, isn’t actually that nonchalant. And to be honest, we fit together so well- both on paper and in person. He was so observant and understood me to a T- because he paid attention to the little details. There was never a quiet moment between us, and we both always had something we were eager to share with the other.
However, I hate to be the bearer of bad news- but, as the title says: he’s gay. The catch is- he hasn’t figured it out himself yet. Don’t ask me how I know- because I won’t tell ya. To be quite honest- I locked that shit up and threw it deep into the trauma box, never to be discussed again.
Actually speaking of- I have quite the archive of stories about this man. Every time I would go with my friends for dinner, my stories about him would take center stage and have every single one of them on the ground in laughter by the end. The dinner would always end with “Rish, hun, he’s gay. You have to end it.” and I would respond with “Are you sure? I feel like I need to see him again to make sure.” And so I would see him again.
At the end of the day: he was a fun time. I’m happy we had what we had, and it was the first relationship I left without regrets. Probably because he’s gay…
He also taught me with one of my favorite sayings, which I had never heard until he said it one time: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”
& Mr. Veteran New Yorker was right- there really is no such thing as a free lunch. Don’t forget it.
2. The One That Came Crawling Back
This boy felt like home. It was the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and the way he acted around me. Being with him, felt like being with the boy next door- which was so comforting in a massive city. All that, coupled with the fact that he’s older than me (by a good amount), but held so much respect for me- was just such a cherry on top. He’s so very successful in his own right, so I never expected him to acknowledge my successes as much as he did.
The way in which he would talk about me, the things I was accomplishing, and the aspirations that I had- was with so much respect and admiration. Which somehow made my goals seem so much more valid. And I’m positive, that any other man in his position wouldn’t have done the same. Every time I would get nervous and wonder “what the fuck am I doing with my life?”- he would reassure me with a “Rish, I know you’ll be fine” which in his words meant “I know you’ll do well no matter what you choose to do.”
Funny story: when we used to go out, he would always end up over-ordering. If we couldn’t pick between the two, he would just order them both. Which is so sweet and generous in theory- but I come from an Asian household. So my food waste guilt would always force me to help him clear the table at a $400 dinner- which inevitably did me dirty. One time, we decided to order a full bottle of red wine 30 minutes before the place closed. We both thought- worst comes to worst we’ll grab the bottle and take it home for after. However, after uncorking and all that shit, our waitress said we couldn’t take the bottle to go.
So to be a good sport- homeboy dusted off his frat boy letters, and I unveiled the sorority bitch inside me and we downed that bottle right as the clock hit 00:00. Buzzer beater for sure, and we both stumbled out like we were 17 again. However, I’m not a 6’1'“ ripped man, and so the poison hit me harder and faster than it hit him. The next thing I know he has his arms wrapped around me, coddling me like a baby as I’m drinking blue Pedialyte in his bed. I apologized- and he told me to never apologize again. He coddled me like a child for the rest of the night, and I expected that to be the last time seeing him. But no, like clockwork, I got a text the next day as if nothing ever happened- and we kept going out. All’s well that ends well.
So what ever happened to this boy next door?
As bad as this sounds, I can’t completely remember what he did that hurt me so bad. All I remember is how it hurt so very bad in the moment. And it hurt for a long time after as well.
Then one magical day I woke up, and it didn’t hurt anymore. Time heals all wounds. But funny thing is- time really does its trick on wounds when you accidentally hurt yourself.
I think I liked the idea of him- more than I ever actually liked him. So call this a suicide mission, if you may- it’s a heartbreak that I set myself up for, and had no way of getting out of. And for the most part, it was my fault.
I don’t blame him for not understanding how he hurt me. It was because he never knew the half that went on in my brain- and my mistake was expecting him to know, without ever explicitly telling him.
So yes, in retrospect, I admit it was primarily my fault. But do you think I’d let him get away that easily? Absolutely fucking not.
So here’s the tea on him:
The boy acted like he was emotionally damaged goods. I don’t know what his ex before me did to him- but he was so unaffectionate that I would often wonder whether he actually liked me, or if we were… just friends? He liked the concept of being an asshole, but wasn’t cut out for it. He would make sure to talk to me everyday, he texted me at midnight on my birthday, and he would wish me good luck on my big days. Nice boy was part of his DNA. But he got his heart broken right before I came into his life- and so he convinced himself that he had to be a slight asshole so he never got hurt again.
And not to be an immature little bitch, but in the grand scheme of things I was hotter than him. I don’t know if thats politically correct to publicize on the internet, but fuck it. Now that we’ve established that, let me say: I loved being with this boy as a friend, but mans just couldn’t get me going. I never actually found him attractive-which is such a pickle to be in. Emotionally so very attached, and physically so very detached- to put it in the nicest way.
Also if you want a reason to hate him- he voted for Trump.
At the end of the day, I know he felt more for me, and I felt more for him than either of us would be ballsy enough to admit.
I’ll be the first one to say it- I want him to be in my life forever. And honestly, I think he feels the same way too. So when everything was over and done with, wounds healed & all that, we’ve ended up on good terms again. We’ll always be good friends & I think that’s exactly how it was meant to be- the boy next door.
But just for the record, he came crawling back first.
All’s well, that ends well.
3. The Ones I Never Actually Met
Not just one, but this is about a few people. The missed connections- the ones that could’ve been, but never were. The one’s I never ended up meeting.
One of them was a 6’5” Columbia soccer boy. Another was an NYU boy living in Greenpoint. A solid favorite was the socialite streetwear designer (who I actually did meet). And my biggest regret was an insanely good looking football player who I started talking to my first week in New York and lasted till the day I left & we never met.
Some of them I never had time for. But for the most part, majority of them intimidated me.
I don’t talk about it much- but sometimes, I get nervous to go on dates. I hold the men that come into my life to wildly high standards, but at the same time I also get nervous when they’re not medium ugly (?). Which is such a tricky balance to strike. It’s the whole “am I hotter than you? or are you hotter than me?”
Yes, I’m aware that not everything in the world has to be a competition. But also, you need to understand that I was raised by brown parents.
So mustering up the balls to go out with objectively hot men, always takes a fat pep talk, 4820526 outfit changes, and smooth shot of ‘42 before. I took my dates one by one, but I never got the chance to cross them all off my list. And so this one is dedicated to all the ones I never actually ended up meeting.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll catch ya in 8 months.
4. The One With the Prettiest Face (& Body)
The title says it all for this one. He was model with a pretty face- dare I say perfect. I kid you not, if you saw him in person your jaw would probably drop to the floor as well. The face of a motherfucking Ken doll & the body of a Greek god.
The first time we met he looked so familiar, and I couldn’t figure out why. It took me a few days to put my finger on it- but somehow (after a lot of digging) I finally put the pieces together. This boy had been part of a campaign way back (2019) for a company that I love. Prior to ever even living in New York, I had seen pictures of this boy and forwarded them to my friends. And without realizing, I somehow ended up going out with him. What a wild life.
I have a habit of playing with my rings when I’m nervous. And when I first met him- I was nervous.
At some point, I think he got either annoyed or concerned- so he leaned over the table, grabbed my hands, and held them in his. All fingers interlocked, and then he stared straight into my eyes and smiled. Not a questionable cringe smile, just a really fucking hot one- good god.
I’m surprised my anemic ass didn’t stop and faint right there.
So where’s the catch you ask?
Well he was a pretty face, and when he opened his pretty face to talk- I would beg God to make it stop. I could genuinely just enjoy an entire date by putting in earplugs and staring at him. But apparently thats not socially acceptable. So instead I’d have to engage in the most absurd conversations I’ve ever had with him.
It finally all ended up working out, because the best time I spent with him didn’t require much talking anyways. He was the greatest rebound a girl could ask for, and so for him I’m thankful. To know that he could eyes-closed pull ANY girl in Manhattan, but chose me for a bit was such a nice lil confidence boost.
Generally I’d say: to hell with male validation. However this mans was not a male- he was a Greek god in human form.
Out of every boy I’ve encountered- this golden retriever boy had the kindest heart. And I could tell he wore it on his sleeve. Whoever he ends up with is one lucky gal- but that lucky gal just isn’t me.
5. The One I Least Expected
My Gemini boy, hi.
Yes, this one’s about you.
(50/50 chances he’ll read this.)
He came into my life when I least expected it.
After finally curing a heartbreak, I was on a little rebound bender. The only qualifications for my rebound bender were: hot & tall. And frankly, it was a wonderful bender that ended with him.
The first time we met, I had no expectations. I randomly Facetimed him while tipsy, and I didn't think he would be so down to meet up right then. But we met.
And once we started talking- it was almost like we were boy-girl versions of each other. We had the same taste in music, same favorite movies, & same interests- almost eerily so.
I never say the words “I like him” when telling my mom about a new guy. But for the first time in my life- when I finally spilled about him to my mom, I said: “Mom, it feels kinda different, I really like him.” Which is major.
One day at work, I was grinning at my phone while texting him. During which Prabal came to my desk. However, I was so distracted texting him and smiling at my phone that Prabal had to slam on my desk to get my attention. I looked up and we both started laughing, and he asked me: “You’re smiling- Who are you texting? It’s a boy, isn’t it?” and I chuckled, and responded: “Something like that, you already know.” And PG knew exactly what I meant.
This boy always knew the right thing to say at the right moment. Which honestly could either be a green flag or a red flag: sweetheart or serial playboy? I never knew for sure. I always hoped for the first, but I have a gut feeling it was the latter.
It was a relationship that started with a ticking timer of knowing that I had to leave within a few months.
Nonetheless- in the moment, in person, it was a happy time. My life moves really fast, and I refuse to make time for most people. But for him, I always stopped and put everything aside for a bit. No matter how important or how pressing, it could wait. Being with him gave me a chance to slow down and live in the moment. Somehow, he always managed to singlehandedly turn my bad days around into good ones during the hardest period of my life. And I really hope I did the same for him.
On the other hand, it also had its cons. I’m the type of person that’s very intentional with every single word I say. And it surprises me when people aren’t the same in return. Big words and pinky promises with him, felt so good in the moment, but when I realized they might be empty words and probably unfulfilled promises- it left a bit of a pit in my stomach. He’s the most ironic mix of completely self-obsessed and yet so very selfless. Ultimately- at 21, it’s hard to guarantee promises and be genuine with big words- so I’d console myself by saying that it’ll probably take time for him to mature.
I never told him or anyone this- but, a girl that follows my IG once spotted us walking around the West Village after dinner. I remember the moment too. We stopped at the corner of West 4th & Sixth Ave, and we were laughing about something and talking about the color of the Empire State building. At some point he turned me around to kiss him. Meanwhile this girl who was about 15 feet away took a picture of us, mid-kiss with the Empire State building lit up purple in the background and sent it to me. It was that peak 2013 Tumblr shit, and it was so good. Also- it was possibly the best description of us together: good in the moment.
Honestly, I can’t really tell if he misses me. But I’ll be the first to say that I still miss him every now and then. I’m not sure if our chapter’s closed yet (50/50)- so only time will tell.
Anyways, if you happen to read this- I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m so happy you walked into my life. Last time I saw you, you told me time & time again how proud you are of me. And I just realized, I completely forgot to tell you: I’m so wildly proud of you as well. I can’t wait to see everything that you accomplish, and I hope you know I’ll forever be cheering ya on, Gemini boy.
6. The One That Gave Me My "The Notebook" Moment
This one is just one of those wild nights out. Nothing more than that. But it was one hell of a night out with all my best friends.
“Bender” is an understatement to narrate the happenings of this evening. We all danced, screamed at the top of our lungs, and went around the city like it was our playground. It was everyone I love was in one place. And all of us had the night of our lives.
Somehow we ended up at Fiddlesticks in West Village. As the bar closed and our belligerent asses made our way out, it started pouring.
It was the middle of summer, the inside of the bar was steaming with frat boy fumes, and nothing felt better than the fact that it was raining down on us. So I strut down the sidewalk towards my friends in my cowboy boots putting on a little show and yelled at the top of my lungs: “WHO HERE IS GONNA KISS ME IN THE RAIN?”
And I don’t know how one thing lead to another, but one of them walked up to me and said: “Wait are you serious?” To which I replied: “Yes, of course I’m being serious.” And just like that- I had my “The Notebook” moment. And it possibly one of the most fun moments of my entire life.
Before you think I’m a psycho- the boy is actually a good friend of mine. But this one is less about the boy and more about the moment. In a time that I really needed it- this made me feel like the only living girl in New York.
& fin
To be quite honest, there were so many more that came and went, which I wanted to write about.
There was The One Who Welcomed Me to New York- we sat on his wrap around balcony overlooking the entire city, and he told me about how hard he worked to support his sister. He was the first person I met that genuinely embodied the New York hustle, and made me realize that I wanted that too.
There was The One Who Looked Like Christiano Ronaldo. Thats all honestly, not much else to it- I just wanted to share that.
There was The One Who I Worked With- I had a crush on him in the purest sense of the word. It felt more like a crush than anyone I had met in a long time. Even after I stopped working at that company, we would talk every now and then. I always thought that when the time was right- we would finally hang. But instead, he confided in me about another girl that he took on a date. So I called my mom to ask her for advice, and all she responded with was “Bitiya, I think you’ve been friend-zoned.”
However, writing about the rest of them now feels like a chore- which means they’re not a story worth sharing.
The ones here, are one’s that I can’t just sweep under the rug without telling you about them. They’re all so very important to me.
380 days sounds kind of short to have so many life changing experiences. But, that’s exactly the amount of time I spent in New York- and I’m a completely different human than than the one that went in September 1, 2020.
I’ve shared this quote a thousand times, and I’ll share it again:
“Not everything is supposed to become something beautiful and long-lasting. Sometimes people come into your life to show you what is right and what is wrong, to show you who you can be, to teach you to love yourself, to make you feel better for a little while, or to just be someone to walk with at night and spill your life to. Not everyone is going to stay forever, and we still have to keep on going and thank them for what they’ve given us.”
I guess this is my way of saying: thank you to each and every one of you boys that came into my life in the past year. I mean it.
It’s now time for a new chapter in my life, but I’m so very glad you were part of my last one.
& for all the ones I left hanging, maybe I’ll see you in the next.
