"Excuse me Miss, do you need any help?" the cop asks me while I'm crouched behind one of the beams in the subway.

"No I'm alright..." I'm trying to explain why I'm hiding from everyone with my hand up my skirt. I'm wondering if I'm about to get a ticket for indecent exposure. "My stockings are falling down."

The cop laughs, asks if I shaved today and suggests that I should just take them off. Note to self, cop is hitting on me. So I do cause he's right, it's not that cold in the subway and I don't remember it being that cold outside.

So I get on the A train on my way to Ft. Greene. I realize as the express train zips past the stop I'm supposed to get off on that I'm fucked. So I get off at the next stop, Nostrand Ave. If any of you know this area you would know how truly fucked I really was. I had to get out of the station, cross the street and hop on the local back towards Manhattan. I knew I shouldn't have left Manhattan. Anyway I am a) the only white person within miles (not that it bothers me, but I stick out like a white thumb) b) I am the only woman within miles c) I am in a mini skirt and knee high boots d) I'm holding my stockings in my hand. I'm also very late. I go down to the local train. Of course the doors are closing as I almost fall flat on my face running down stairs. I miss the train. Anyone ever tried to catch a C train at 8pm on a saturday night? Not easy. So 20 minutes later a train comes. I'm so fucked, I'm so late.

I get out at the right stop, call my date and apologize for being so late. He apologizes for not telling me that the A train doesn't stop there until late nights. Asshole, it's his fault. So he meets me half way on the long track towards the party. I'm freezing without my stockings on. I make him take me somewhere so I can put them back on. He thinks it's cute.

So we're at this office party. His boss invited him and it's a lovely little brownstone in Brooklyn. We shmooze away, his boss asks us how we know each other. We both stare at each other with questioning eyebrows. "Do we tell him we met on the internet?" We both just look at him and say, "this is our second date." and that's good enough for him.

All in all it was a surreal kind of night. It's hard to get to know a bunch of strangers at a party that I will probably never see again while still trying to get to know this boy who's holding my hand and stealing kisses from me in the coat room. We had a good time, not much else to say. The night started out pretty horrific but as he walked me to the station and he laughed when I told him I was never coming out to Brooklyn again (he thinks I'm kidding) I felt really at ease. What is this? Could this be an actual relationship blooming? Now I've jinxed it. Notice that I haven't given him a nick name yet. That must mean I actually like him.

Oh and then I had a threesome but that's another entry all together.