Please Stop Loving Me

Unemployment: Day 122 in Business Days; Day 168 in Human Days

It's been 7 hours and 168 days...since they took my job away.

Hallo Intarwebs!  I miss ya!

Most of my time these days is spent getting ready for my play's run in FringeNYC, which is only two months away.  Crazy!  In the past two weeks we held our first reading, hired the amazing Steve Wargo to direct, drafted our web site (which will be launched any moment now!), and got our venue assignment - The Actors' Playhouse - just to name a few happenings!

Yet somehow, amidst all the fringe insanity, I'm still managing to date.  Oy vey.

I went on a date tonight with a very nice fella.  We got a drink and immediately I was my charming self, as always.  But after one beer and barely an hour, he said he was tired and cut the date short.  Wait...what?

I'm not used to this sort of rejection.  You see, most men fall madly in love with me and can't get enough of what I like to call the Barri-nator (she said nonchalantly with a flip of her curls).  

What was it that turned this guy off?  Was it when I told him that I live at my grandma's house?  In da Bronx?  Was it the whole not-working-living-off-Uncle-Sam thing?  Was it my engaging, albeit slightly winded, tales of U2 concerts past and the times I met the band?  Was it when I admitted that I might still be with my ex-boyfriend if he hadn't left the state?  (Dating Demerit to my date for even asking about my exes on a first date.)  I mean, I'm just such a gosh darn f-ing catch.  What the frak was it?!  I probably just wasn't Jewish enough.  Yes, I'm fairly positive that was the issue.  No other deal breakers to see here folks, keep on walking.  Bono jobless ex-schmex.

Yeah, so um, rejection?  Not my thang.  Well, not that it's anybody's thing.  It's not like you'd meet someone at a party and ask what they're into and they'd be like, "I'm totally into being rejected."  Obviously I know that it's not anyone's cup a chai.  Luckily I've chosen a career as a writer and performer, so I'll probably never have to deal with more rejection.  (Blah blah blah flip of the curls.)

My magnetism this evening makes me think of a song by The Cure..."Please stop loving me. Please stop loving me. I am none of these things."  Or better yet, my personal song-mantra bestowed upon me back in my formative days by the ever-charming Morrissey: "I've made up your mind...the more you ignore me, the closer I get."   Yes, you.  You over there.  You can't run from me.  Ever.  What? I'm just kidding.  Sort of.

In other news, Grandma has fallen asleep while watching TCM.  I wonder if she'd wake up if I put on the Colbert Report...