NYC Part 2: Polly On The Pull

I heard NYC was a hard city to pick up men, not that we were out hustling, but you know a girl has to be open to opportunity at all times.

We eyed up other joggers, we chatted up the young boys in the Apple shop, we sized up the guys on the subway.. and just about everywhere else.

I forget that I am actually in my 30s. My lusty eye buzzes about like a wasp on heat and usually settles on a twenty-two year old, all cool, with the right hair, low-slung jeans and bumfluff on his chin. Does that make me a perv? Well, for the 30 something pervy woman, three words: Abercrombie and Fitch. Take a taxi from the airport and go straight there. These boys have been lovingly crafted by the hand of god. I’ll take all six, one in every colour. Wrap ‘em up and ship ‘em home.  You will have memory wank bank for months.

I did wonder whether something might happen between me and our host – the rapper – but when I found out he had a new girlfriend, I was delighted as it meant we could get on with just being friends. It’s like when you see a new dress that you think you might like but when you try it on, it doesn’t fit, and you’re really pleased ’cause if it did, you’d have to buy it… d’you know what I mean?

There has been a lot of trying on for size in my life and I’ll admit to having made one or two impulse purchases. But now as my tastebuds mature – with the exception of the odd cute young bumcrack – I have graduated from Buckfast to a nice dry sauvignon blanc.

I’ve spent all my life being a feminist and wanting everything to be equal in a relationship, but now I’ve decided it’s good to know how to cook, and not good to go to the toilet with the door open. It’s good to always have your lipgloss on when you answer the door to him and not good to be slobbing about in your trackie bottoms. It’s good not to let him see you pluck the hair on your chin or chest or navel and definitely not good to slip out a sneaky fart in his company. This is all in theory, but being happily single I can cook what I like in the microwave, leave my hair unwashed for days, and squeeze or pluck whatever I choose. If I ever get a man again, the maintenance will kill me.

When you’re with the girls, however, you can do what you like. Maybe I’ll become a lesbian… More on that later.

Polly Pyne xxx