11 Sep 2008 › 4:00pm
Sorry to have kept you hanging people—but it’s fashion week (maybe you’ve heard of it?) So not only am I up to my eyeballs in man drama, but work could not be any more intense. Where were we? Oh right! Issue numero uno: Vegas shagathon ‘08 left undefined, Issue numero dos: Bloke spotted getting cozy with a nubile skanklebrity (guess it was a slow day in paparazzi land). Aaaaaand issue numero dos-and-a-half: Lest I forget, before all this nonsense began, I agreed to let Ali fix me up. Luckily, this being New York, the guy (let’s call him fixer-upper shall we?) and I have done nothing more than email back and forth trying to align our calendars to no avail. I swear it’s next to impossible to get together with anyon in this town! But in this case, I couldn’t be more grateful. I need another man in the mix like I need to raid Naomi’s shoe closet.
Anyway, to catch you all up on Mr. Man, allow me to spill the juicy details of exactly how it has progressed since we got home… (a long, awkward pause, as the sound of crickets is heard). Yepsies. There has been no movement whatsoever. I have seen him exactly once, in the main tent at Bryant Park. He was going to a show, while I was merely gofering a piece over to Claire for an interview she was doing for Asia. So it’s not like there was time for chitchat. He gave me a quick smile and waved. Cut to me, soggy and frizzy from the rain, looking like an escaped mental patient with an overzealous grin plastered across my shiny face.
Black out.
