A few nights ago, I got a little misty when a cab driver waited for me to get inside safely before driving away. This morning, I felt an inexplicable sense of relief at having an elevator entirely to myself. I think it’s time to spend a weekend somewhere that has trees.

11:27 a.m.

Ladies night excerpts:

Lady 1: So he said he wasn’t gonna date her anymore because she wasn’t a good lay. So I said, “I’m curious, what’s a bad lay from a guy’s viewpoint?” And he goes (spreads legs, adopts blank look).

Lady 2: So it’s not that she wasn’t a good lay, it’s just that “lay” was her only trick.

Lady 3: The Dissected Frog.

Lady 1: Did you guys hear that Mr. Rogers isn’t doing shows anymore?

Lady 2: Yeah. That sucks.

Lady 3: I have a signed picture of Mr. Rogers.

Lady 1: No way.

Lady 3: Mmm hmm. My dad met him once.

Lady 4: Wouldn’t it be rad to get Mr. Rogers to sign your panties or something?

Lady 5: I wonder if he’d do it.

(Pensive silence.)

Lady 1: He’s kind of boastful. We’re going around introducing ourselves, and he’s saying the exact same thing to every person. I heard it like 30 times. That’s OK if you’ve known someone a couple years, you expect to hear their stories again. But I barely know him. When you’ve known a person a few years you know all their stories, and when they meet someone new you can kind of settle into doing your own thing while they talk. But this guy I just met, and I’m hearing the same thing over and over and over. Then, I started getting sarcastic about it, like filling in responses for him, and he didn’t get it.

All: Ohhh nooooo.

11 a.m.

Tuesday night at Naps is Karaoke night. The hot dogs on the back table may be gray, but they’re free. There’s also a wholesale-sized tub of relish if that’s your gig. When we got there, about five regulars lined the bar, and a fellow named Brian was singing a drunken-scat version of “If You Think I’m Sexy.”

“If you beh-dee SEXY

ahn you me-dee BODY

Wee-bby beeh-doo body KNOW.”

Meanwhile, frustrated barflies screamed the actual lyrics and made instructive gestures at Brian, who smiled vaguely, raised his arms above his head, and gyrated. Did I mention free hot dogs? Awesome.

11:18 a.m.

I thought he was only interested in friendship. Then he said, “I like your shoes. Are those new?”

A few days later he said, “Those pants look good on you. Those are my second favorite , after the black ones.”

My theory is that, unless I’m wearing red leather trousers with flames up the legs and/or buttless chaps, a straight man who has favorite pants is up to something fishy. A man who has a runner-up favorite pair of pants and comments on my shoes…maybe I’m wrong about the straight thing.

2:06 p.m.

Ladies night conversation turns to travel:

-Wait, I missed the story. What’s the story?

-She’s wondering whether to go out with the guy again. She slept with him for the first time and it was pretty bad.

-How bad?

-He didn’t visit the Netherlands.

-Wouldn’t go South?

-Nope. I don’t get it. It’s so much warmer down there.

3:43 p.m.