Ashley York Vol 4: Tennis, Anyone?

Yes yes, I know. Sorry. Okay. Deep breath. Hold. Exhale. Commence.

As you could possibly guess, it wasn't particularly easy falling asleep that Friday night. You probably imagine me laying my clothes out for the next morning but that's not the case. I woke up and headed downstairs to breakfast that Saturday. We usually have a big breakfast with the entire family on Saturday mornings out at the beach. Bagels, flagels (flat bagels), lox, fresh fruit, and so forth. It was most definitely overcast, but not raining, and not cold either. I had on my my white Nike tennis shorts, and light blue DeBeers (a lacrosse company) t-shirt. I ate lightly, as I was nervous. I forget who asked me, but someone in my family asked why I was wearing tennis shorts, and I simply responded by saying I was meeting a friend to play tennis. Nobody knew of this Ashley York at this point.

After breakfast I gathered my stuff and headed out the door. The drive to Sportime where the courts were would take me approximately three to five minutes. I got in my car, and drove to the courts, of course arriving early, because that's how I roll. I headed to the tennis house and spoke to the pro, gave her my name, and she told me it would be about 45 minutes to an hour. Quite frankly, I didn't care about the wait, because Ashley and I would just have a chance to sit and chill and talk. After all, I wasn't exactly looking for a serious tennis match here. I opened my phone (yes, it was a flip phone back in 2008) and sent a text. I'm sure it said something simple like, "Hey, I'm here, sitting by the courts". The layout was simple enough so that there was no way she could miss me.

Not surprisingly Ashley was late. I looked at my watch and realized that at this point she was 10 minutes late, which was fine, and understandable since she was coming from Montauk. But as I mentioned in the last edition, the directions were "straight, make a right". Straight. Make a right. Twenty minutes go by at this point and I'm starting to get worried, because that's one of my occasional hobbies. She said she's driving a black 3-series BMW, so I check the parking lot, and there's no black BMW. Then my phone rings. It's Ashley.

She sounded kind of panicked, and lost. She said she was in the lot, which I knew was impossible because I was in the lot as well. But then I remembered something...the year before Sportime merged with Dunes Racquet Club and there was a back entrance, so if she was there, there was no tennis house, and no tables by the court, and certainly no me. I told her she was probably in the other lot, and to make a right out of the driveway and another right. She was literally around the corner, and I told her that I'd come out to the entrance of the driveway and that I had on a blue shirt and white shorts. She sounded a lot more calm now, and we hung up. I proceeded to the end of the driveway to wait.

3 minutes.

5 minutes.

I called her cell. Straight to voicemail. I said something like, I think you should've passed me by now but I haven't seen you, call me.

10 minutes. This is getting strange. And all of the sudden, I start getting all these voicemails from her. Frantic. Almost scared. "Where are you? Call me back".

I call her back. Straight to voicemail. Then a text from her, "how come I dont see you". Me back to her, "I'm right here. I haven't moved. I'm wearing a light blue shirt. You can't miss me".

Then more voicemails flood my inbox. "Where are you? This is weird. I think this is a bad idea".

I call her. Straight to voicemail again. "Just stop driving and tell me what road you're on?"

Her to me via text, "I'm leaving. You are weird. I'm sorry we did this."

Me to her via text, "Just hold on. You're probably just one turn away. Try to get back to 27."

Another missed call. Another voicemail. Then a text "are you really even there?"

Me to her, "yes, I've been standing out at the end of the drive way".

Her back to me via text, "This is too weird. I can't believe this. You aren't even there. This is a bad idea. I'm going home".

Now at this point my phone is just about dead. And not only is it barely breathing, but it's hot to the touch. Like literally almost on fire. I have no juice left on my phone. I've just scared off Ashley and she thinks I'm a serial killer. Perfect. I drive home, but then I look down at my phone and it's her, live, calling me. I pull into the Aboff's parking lot on 27. I wished I never picked up the phone.

Ashley proceeds to verbally light me up. I don't remember exact words, but "creep", "asshole", "sketchy" seem to ring a bell. She said she couldn't believe I could do this to her and that she was so dumb to think this actually was a good idea. And what did I have to say back to her. Nothing. All I could say is that I was there. And I was there. I had been there since 10:15. I was coming on 11:15 now. It was a brutal hour of missed calls, missed connection, and misinterpretations, and I'd basically screwed up what I was hoping would be an unbelievable first date with an unbelievable girl.

Tail between my legs I drove back the few minutes back to the house. For whatever reason, my Dad and sister were on the front steps. I stepped out of the car, and I remember my Dad saying that I looked like someone had just killed my dog, and then I explained to him that basically someone had just killed my dog, except it was worse. So I'm relaying this story to him and also to my sister. Quite presciently, my Dad's first reaction, "no, I'm sorry, but this doesn't make sense". I was crushed. It hurt. It burned. Actually, it didn't burn, that was just my cellphone, and then I realized "Land Lines" and I ran inside and jumped on a landline. I called Ashley, and by some strange miracle she picked up.

I said something to the effect of, "I don't know what just happened, but you can choose to believe me or not. I know I was there. And that's the only thing I'm sure of today". She sounded skeptical, and basically said that we shouldn't talk anymore. She had to head to the airport because she was going to Wimbledon. Yes, that Wimbledon. The epic finals Federer vs Nadal Wimbledon. She hung up. Two weeks of build up flushed in one hour. I don't know how it was possible, but the absolute worst possibly outcome happened.

I went back out on the porch and sat, dejected with my Dad, and I'll never forget what he said next. He put his hand on my shoulder and he said, "how serious are you about meeting this girl?". I replied "serious" and told him about all the time we'd spent talking and how I'd been looking forward to this for a few weeks. He said, "if you really are serious, you get back in your car and you drive to her. Drive out to Montauk. Tell her that you'll be waiting for her, just like you were this morning, and if she choose to stop and meet you then great, but you put the ball in her court".

Yes. That was exactly what I was going to do.

I ran back to the landline and I called Ashley. Again, she picked up, and I read her the riot act. I said, I'm coming to Montauk to see you because I want you to know that I'm for real about this, and I would never flake on anyone like this, ever. Ashley pleaded with me not to come, telling me it was too late, and what's the point, and that she needed to catch a flight. I told her I didn't care. I was coming out, and I was going to park at Cyril's and if she wanted to stop for 30 seconds and say hi, I'd be there. And even if she wanted to drive and just see that I existed I'd be there. I ran back to my car and started out on 27 East...

...Bumper to bumper literally doesn't even do it justice. Shit. I text her. Change of plans. I'll be at La Fondita, also right on 27, and I'll be standing in front of my car, waiting for her, in a light blue shirt and white tennis shorts. She writes back, "ok". So a few minutes later I pull into La Fondita and get a prime parking spot facing 27. I see every single car passing by. Now, Ashley had told me she was going to be driving with her brother, so I'm on the lookout for a blond girl and a guy in a black 3-series BMW. I wait. And wait. Nothing.

Twenty or thirty minutes go by at this point, and I'm antsy, and slightly aggravated. And then my phone buzzes. It's a text. From Ashley. It reads "just drove by. you weren't there. sooo shady. enjoy the weekend, creep".

Well, I dug deep into my Oxford English dictionary and fired back, "fuck you, I've been here and you didn't drive by". And as I turned to get in my car I see a black 3-series drive my with a guy in the front driving and a blond in the passenger seat. Out in the Hamptons you see that probably more than you would in Missoula, but still the timing didn't make sense. I was even more confused now and decided to drove my sorry ass home, but first eat a taco at La Fondita, obviously. At this point I'm just emotionally spent. For those of you who know me well, it takes a lot to fire me up. I just needed a rest. Hell, I might've even napped.

And of course I know you all are wondering, where's Krista Marks. Well, at some point I got on facebook, and Krista had written to my saying, "what the hell happened today. I spoke to Ashley and she was so upset" etc etc, and kept urging me to call Ashley, which was literally the last thing I wanted to do, since I'd more or less told her to take a long walk off a short pier not hours earlier. And I'll let Facebook take it away.

John Finger July 5, 2008 at 9:18pm

Sometimes less is more. I didn't fuck up. I just want to give her space. If I was dating her, I'd pull the "don't go to bed angry" thing, but we ain't dating.

Krista Marks

July 5, 2008 at 9:18pm

I dunno say - was thinkin about u and feel awful about whats happened. can we talk when u land?

LOL, something like that but put it in ur words. Maybe u should go out and then call her. LOL

Hell of a time for "LOL"s Krista. I understood what Krista meant though, and you know me and my writing. I was supposed to go meet Eric Chelsea and Eric's sister and brother-in-law at The Lodge for a drink, but first I needed to just email Ashley, even though I knew at this point she was either in the air flying to London, or perhaps already across the ocean. And here is what I wrote, in an email with the subject line "Not a Good Saturday". Thank you Yahoo for preserving such horrific memories. Enjoy...

Hey, I got this email address from Krista. Facebook didn't seem like an appropriate place for this email. I don't know what went down this morning. I know I was there, you know you were there. And despite not seeing me at La Fondita either I assure you I was there too. I spent the better part of the morning rehashing everything, and no matter what I tried to figure out, the end result was the same shitty end result. There's no sense playing CSI with this anymore. I was trying my hardest to not get in touch with you today, but this has been eating at me and I couldn't help writing. In my heart of hearts I know you cannot possibly think I did not show up at all. Based on everything we've spoken about and the plans we made the night before it is highly illogical that either of us would have flaked. It makes no sense. I'm upset that 40 crappy minutes of missed connections and confusion has seemingly negated what has been countless hours on the phone getting to know one another. If I knew when I woke up this morning that today would've gone the way it ended up going I would've burrowed in my bed for the rest of the weekend.

I tried losing myself in a movie this afternoon. I decided to watch James Bond: Casino Royale since i hadn't seen it. As you can imagine, the movie was chock full of beautiful British women with accents so that basically was a 3 hour reminder of what transpired in the morning. After the movie, I showered up for dinner and was feeling a little better. The meal was good, but then dessert came, and it was strawberries and cream, which again was like a swift kick to the mid-section. I wouldn't be surprised if when I get back to my apartment tomorrow there's a complimentary copy of Elle on my desk.

I was venting my frustration to my friend this afternoon and he pointed out that this isn't how I typically act when I'm interested in someone. I'm always saying "it is what it is", and I kind of let the chips fall where they may, but for whatever reason I don't feel like that now. I'm writing this email because this is important to me, and I try to speak to you every night because it's important to me, and I wanted to meet you in person because that was important to me. So in a sense this whole thing is doubly frustrating because I put aside the whole "it is what it is" thing and put myself out there.

If you've made it through this far it probably means that you're either really bored and nothing good is on TV, or maybe there's a part of you that was hoping, like I was hoping, that today would've been a lot of fun. If there's any interest in giving this another chance, even one iota, I hope you can acknowledge that and at least consider trying this again. It doesn't need to be drinks, or dinner, or certainly not tennis. If you wanted to meet up at a starbucks wearing tube socks that's cool. If you wanted to show up with oreo crumbs all over your shirt, again, cool. Conversation with you comes so easily, especially for a pretty reserved guy like myself, and I am still looking forward to talking to you in person.

Bottom line here is that today sucked. Could not have gone any worse. Today is over in about an hour (eastern standard time), and I'm going to try to move on from it. I hope you will try to do the same. I know you may be tired when you get back tomorrow, but I'd be more than happy to just meet somewhere to say hello, even if for 5 mins. Even if it's to walk Marly with you. Ashley, I'm telling you, the absolute last thing I would want is to hurt you in any way, and I really and truly hope you can believe that. Think what you want and believe what you want, but I just had to write this and get it out there. What I really want is to just talk to you and hear your voice at some point, but I'd settle for a text or even a smoke signal, of course as long as the text doesn't say "eff off and ps your blog sucks" and as long as you are offsetting the carbon created by the smoke signal. I'm prepared for the worst though, but I'm hoping it doesn't have to be that way.

Enjoy the match.

John

Ok, so now that you've vomited in your cereal/soup/whatever from cheesiness, just realize that there were some jokes in there I haven't alluded to, but the sentiment was real. It's embarrassing as all hell to read this now, but that's what I came up with. I shut down the computer and headed out to meet my friends for drinks.

Naturally at drinks I'm telling this story, and everyone is loving it, which was a lot of fun, because it was entertaining, suspenseful, and it was the first time I think I'd laughed all day. Telling the story was a healthy way to get over it. Mid story my phone buzzes. It's Ashley. I pause, and tell the group, "it's Ashley". We're all on the edge of our seats. "What does it say. What does it say", they ask...one word...

"Poof"

Obviously, in reference to my line about the smoke signal. I'm happy, but I'm going to let this rest for a few days. I still hadn't the faintest idea of what the hell happened. I wanted an explanation, and I'd get it, but it would be an explanation that was not even close to anything I could ever have imagined.

I just gave myself the goosebumps, and I'm the one writing this thing. Jesus. Next up. Conjectures, confirmations, collusion, Team Krashley, and the Department of Homeland Security. Enjoy your week, and thanks for keeping up with the blog.

Ashley York Vol 3: Miami, Memphis, and Montauk

Picking up from last week...


That first call, I mean, wow, it was a little nerve-wracking. I remember distinctly both of us commenting that it was kind of weird to finally speak over the phone. Real voices. Real people. However, once we got over the initial weirdness and were able to make fun of it a little the conversation flowed as easily as it had via Facebook messaging.

Quite frankly, her voice didn't match her picture. She had a real sultry English accent. I don't know Joss Stone (the singer), but that's the first thing that comes to mind when I try to describe what it sounded like. A little bit New York though too, which I attribute to her days in high school. So what did we talk about that first call you ask. All the same stuff you would probably talk about on a first date. Family, friends, jobs. She referred to her grandfather as her "grandpapa", like all english-like with an little extra mustard (Grey Poupon no doubt) on one of the "pa"'s so it sounded like "Graahnd-pa-pa". I'd been listening to the screeching Long Island JAPS for the prior year in business school and also had a healthy dose of that Michigander flavor....e.g. "cayretts" for carrots and so on. So British, to me, at least at the time, was exotic. Now, not even remotely appealing. But we're not there yet.


The first call went frighteningly well. I remember hanging up and literally being like, Jesus Christ, I just spoke to this girl for like 20 minutes about absolute nothing and absolutely everything. Instead of just picking up and calling the next day too I was a bit cautious. I remember the way she bristled at a potential meeting the week before, so like most things in my life, I was going to take it slowly. Fortunately for me Ashley had similar intentions. I got home the next night (June 17th ) to this facebook message..."Lakers or Celtics?". If you came home to this message, don't even tell me that it wouldn't be at least a little exciting. Ashley wanted to debate basketball with me and I gladly took the bait. Below is the brief facebook message chat we had that evening. Again, I cringe with mild embarrassment.

John Finger June 17, 2008 at 10:10pm

Are you going to tell me that Kobe has gorgeous eyes?

Ashley York June 17, 2008 at 10:15pm Report

Haha, no. But that ring he gave his wife after he cheated... GORGEOUS!

John Finger June 17, 2008 at 10:20pm

Yes, that was one huge and expensive "I'm Sorry". You care to talk, like, for real?

Ashley York June 17, 2008 at 10:23pm Report

Haha, sure - how about I call you in 15 after I walk Marls?
(though add on 5 to the 15 in order to peel him away from the wall...)

John Finger June 17, 2008 at 10:25pm

Yeah, let him get his aggression out in the fresh air. Speak to you in a bit.

Point of information, Marls, short for Marley was her dog, and Marley apparently had this weird infatuation with running into walls.

Anyway, while I was sure that the night before was a fluke, being that conversation was so easy, the conversation that night trumped the first one by leaps and bounds. Wait, what's that? Krista Marks update? I'm glad you asked.

Well...Krista was all over this as you could imagine. Her surreptitious sneaking and setting up seemed to be working out. She sent me a facebook message later that same night mentioning how excited she was and remarking how strange yet cool Ashley's "Americano/Brit" accent was. Remember now, Ashley doesn't know I'm talking with Krista, but Krista and Ashley are roommates, so if I'm talking to Ashley then Krista knows about it. As Facebook would say "It's Complicated". My response (direct quote) "Yeah, it's weird because you see someone's pic on facebook and you try to associate some voice with it, and then when you actually hear it and it isn't what you expected it is kind of weird. Truthfully, I don't mind setups. I am very picky as well, and i think that's the only way to be."

While still slightly weird, it was a lot of fun talking to Ashley York, and over the next week we started logging some minutes on the phone. We talked about everything from Mark Ronson mash-ups to cioppino at Dave's in Montauk, where her folks had a house. After a long day of talking commodities and cap and trade at work it was nice knowing that I'd be able to come home, relax, and just shoot the shit with someone who seemingly spoke my language. I learned that she was on the outs at Elle Magazine. She was feeling strung along a little bit because of the recent departure of Nina Garcia and the subsequent re-org taking place within the company. She'd written, or should I say, contributed to a piece on Hillary Clinton that seemed like an excellent and intellectual assignment, but she said those days of highbrow writing were over. She was moving onto "fashion events" which she deemed "lowbrow / despicable". At that point I would've put our interactions at "Lowbrow/brilliant". Every night, there was cupid shooting a flaming arrow of incredulity through my heart. I kept thinking to myself, who the hell is this breath of fresh air, and how much longer am I going to have to spend losing my voice on the phone before I can meet her.

Let me just tell you this straight up, I was logging damn near close to one hour sessions with Ashley on the phone. You ask me what on God's green earth we talked about, and I can tell you matter of factly that I simply. Don't. Know. But I knew that my phone would be warm and the battery depleted after these calls.

Meanwhile, back on planet Earth, I'd probably mentioned this whole situation to a handful of people. Probably no fewer than three but no more than five. In typical FingerTheBlog fashion, if I was going to inevitably fuck this up, I'd do so under the cover of darkness, without so much as a peep. So eventually I pulled up my britches and I asked Ashley out for a drink, but as I suspected, she was going to be busy with events, this time in Miami.

She went to Miami at the end of June for a few days. It was an Elle event. Star-studded affair. Red carpet. Blah blah. I spoke with her every night after work and texted with her during the day. At night I remember her at one point asking me to hold on, as there was a knock at her door. I heard her then begin to speak Italian with interspersed French. She was coordinating something or another for an important client or her boss, and I remember her getting back on the phone and I was like, "um, how many languages do you speak", and she said five. Impressive. Equally slash more impressive was a story she told me about getting her towel caught in the door jam and basically having to run down the hall to the phone stark naked to call the front desk to send someone up to let her in. Now, while I haven't sent you pictures of this young lady (and I will, so stay tuned), she had upped her flirtatiousness over the week and half. Conversations about Hillary Clinton and "It Takes a Village" this was not. In full disclosure, all these conversations were PG-13, but there were undertones. Let that simmer.

I really was excited when she came back to NYC the next week, and immediately asked her out. In fact, if I remember correctly I suggested that we go and walk Marley in the park. First meeting, public space, lots of people around...you know, somewhere where either of us could scream bloody murder in case shit got weird. But much to my dismay Ashley found excuse after excuse to blow me off. One time it was some MoMA event in Brooklyn. Another time it was a bad day at work. Then an impromptu trip to Memphis for 2 days for something or another. For someone about to be fired, or so she thought, Elle was certainly squeezing every last ounce of worth out of her, and it sounded like she was super frustrated. I didn't push too hard because even though we never met up we were still talking on the phone. Every night. One hour plus conversations. Yes, you read that correctly. Again, please don't even bother asking.

Krista again, continues to pry. We have the following exchange on July 2nd, in response to an awkwardly written note from her to me about "taking it to the next level". Enjoy...

John Finger July 2, 2008 at 12:15am
fyi, spoke to her tonight. She's quite the traveler and impossible to track down. Prob not going to see her this weekend because she's going to wimbledon.

Krista Marks July 2, 2008 at 3:50pm
LOL Well I talked to her about u today and she said u two talk a lot. She thinks ur really sweet. But when i asked if there is more she said that there wasn't/ That u two only talk on the phone but there isnt any indication of u liking her like that, etc!! LOL HELLOO!!!!!!! Of course she was vague like she awlays is.

Anyways how r things?


John Finger July 2, 2008 at 8:25pm
Things are okay on this end. But more importantly, she said that there wasn't any inkling of anything more than just being friends? That sucks for me. last night I asked if maybe we could get together on Friday, but I didn't really get a solid answer. Is she being vague or is she just not into it?

Krista Marks July 2, 2008 at 9:02pm
U have to get her giddy and excited aobut u. Just how she makes u feel (That u miss her and want to talk to her) u have to make her feel the same! KEEP THAT HOT BOD!!! LOL

Mind you, I'm not LOL-ing so much because Ashley has more or less given me a 'thanks but no thanks' at every turn. So we were coming up on July 4th weekend and I call Ashley and she sounds horrible. She's going to Wimbledon this coming weekend, so how upset could she really be? Unfortunately, the other shoe had dropped. She had finally been fired. While inevitable, apparently, I guess the reality of being unemployed in what at the time was the beginning of the end of the economy/world was a lot for her to deal with. She was going to head to Montauk and wallow in her misery with her family and then head to Wimbledon. I commiserated and suggested that we meet up for tennis that weekend. She, having played varsity for a year at Georgetown, would surely make for a enjoyable hitting partner and I knew I'd be able to cheer her up. And for the first time she didn't have an excuse. In fact she was kind of was into it. You know who wasn't into it though? The man upstairs. The weather forecast was dicey. Rain. Rain. Possibly some more rain. That Friday I packed up my gear and caught a ride with Eric and Chelsea out the beach. I remember that car ride well, because in one hand I held their dog Harley and in the other I texted with Ashley the whole drive out.

When I finally got out to East Hampton I called Ashley to confirm we had a date the next day. She was apprehensive, with the weather forecast being so questionable, and perhaps a bit nervous. I know I was. That night, and I cross my heart on this, we spoke for like two hours. Details aren't important, but it was an excellent (and clean) phone call, and there was no way we weren't going to meet up the next day for tennis. Here were the details:

Where: Sportime Tennis, Abraham's Path, East Hampton

What: Tennis
Who: John Finger and Ashley York
When: 10:30am
Why: Because Facebook willed it

The directions from her place to tennis were easy. In fact, easy is a gross understatement.

Go west on 27. Make a right at Abraham's Path. Sportime was on the left half mile in. Fin.

I went to bed with a smile on my face that night, although my sister wanted to strangle me because I'd been on the phone forever. Sorry.

In less than 12 hours I was going to finally meet Ashley York...and have my entire world turned absolutely upside down.

Stay tuned.

Ashley York Vol 2: A Blond, A Jew, A Writer. A Blond Jewish Writer.

Ashley wrote "I just waved hello to Prince Harry".

She was at the Royal Ascot, which for all intents and purposes is the Kentucky Derby and Preakness rolled into one. I leave out the Belmont Stakes here, because I don't think the Royal Ascot has any tailgating and peeing into Gatorade bottles on a huge parking lot. Perhaps I'm mistaken. But that is neither here nor there.

Ashley was updating me via her Facebook for Blackberry. She had managed to score passes to a very exclusive party, but amidst making eyes at royalty, eating cucumber sandwiches, and wearing outlandish hats, she wanted to chat with me and say what's up. As for me, well I remember it being an absolute scorcher of a day in Greenwich and I was at home alternating between swimming, and seeking shade. The occasional message from Ashley was a good excuse to seek solace from the heat and head inside to air conditioning. I'm not going to lie, I liked the fact that this girl was emailing me during this great event - which takes place in London by the way - to say what's up. She was also there visiting family. She's British. I didn't tell you that yet though. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me pick it back up from post-Toronto wedding, which was a great time by the way. Ok, so post-Toronto wedding...

So at this point I'm back home and Krista sends me a Facebook message asking me how things are going. Nothing is "going" because there is nothing. And basically that's what I told Krista. I gave the old "college try" and that was it. I was done. Moving right along, as they say...

I didn't feel any need subject myself to rejection again, but Krista kept urging me, telling me how amazing her friend, and roommate, Ashley was. Then she started giving me some more information on this Ashley York. Here are some of the facts:

1. Born and raised in London.

2. Moved to NYC in HS

3. Went to Georgetown

4. Avid tennis player

5. Currently a writer for Elle Magazine

6. Jewish

So here I am. Single. Sitting in my room, being told that there's this very pretty blond, jewish, writer, tennis player, with an accent, and this girl's best friend in the world thinks we'd be compatible. I re-read 1 through 6. And then I emailed, on May 30th 2008, an email that would literally take me through one of the most bizarre two or three weeks in my entire life.

And wouldn't you know, Ashley York liked the email, and we started trading emails, or should I say facebook messages. Flirty, cute, short and sweet. And how do I recall these messages you ask...well, Facebook still has them and I'm looking at them right now. She was a rabid Ohio State Buckeye fan, and as you know, I'm a Michigan Man, so we joked about that. She made fun of my sneaker collection. I made fun of her writing stories about men's underwear for Elle. It was all real junior varsity stuff. But fun.

I started work the next week, on June 9th. I must've exchanged messages with her after my first day of work because on June 10th, she wrote a message that said, "hope day two went well..."

I realize that it was all a bit weird that this was all done via messages and email, but at the same time it was nice to know that someone out there was thinking about me, and this someone happened to be a ridiculously attractive blond jewish writer. And all the while, Krista Marks was all over me. Asking a million and one questions, urging me to meet her in person.

Ashley and I had been messaging for a few days now, perhaps almost a week's worth of messaging. So later on in the week I wrote a message to Ashley saying how it's kind of ridiculous that we don't meet up for a drink because we lived so close to each other. (She was an Upper East Sider too, where she lived with Krista, and her dog Marley, a terrier beagle mix). And then it got weird because Ashley said more or less, whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses, I don't even know you, and you're just some totally random internet dude. And you know what...she was right. I stepped back for a second and realized what the hell I was actually doing. I knew nothing about this girl, but at the same time, it would kind of be like a blind date. I mean, this is exactly what happens on Match.com or JDate or other dating sites I imagine. People exchange messages, it goes well, they meet for a drink. This in theory was no different.

On June 11th Krista and I had the following exchange, most likely about me meeting Ashley, and mind you this is exactly how it went because I am literally cutting and copying...

John Finger June 11, 2008 at 9:30pm

Yeah, she messaged me back today and agreed that perhaps phone is the next logical progression. I'm not going to push though right now though. I really like chatting with her. She's pretty sassy (a good thing, by the way), kind of like you. I can see why you two get along.

June 11, 2008 at 9:45pm

LOL, I'M JUST LOUD AND ANNOYING

John Finger June 11, 2008 at 10:34pm

Come on, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you are not annoying.

June 12, 2008 at 4:19pm

LOL, true.

The phone was the "next logical progression". Um, why did I sound like a scientist when I wrote that? Was I talking about meeting a girl or the history of jazz?

Anyway, I first called Ashley on June 16th, after a long facebook chat about social implications of Sesame Street. She was a writer, she was witty, she had me at www.hello. com. What do you want from me? So on June 16th I asked her to just email me her number, and she did.

I dialed and the phone rang, and someone picked up...

"Hello, John...?"

.....stay tuned....

Ashley York Vol 1: Beginning

As I alluded to the other day, this will be the beginning of the end. Super dramatic, I know. The following series of posts will recount a tale from back in 2008. Please note that this isn’t based on a true story. This is a true story. Sometimes I may change a name or ad lib a dialogue, but this is actually how it all went down. There’s no embellishing here. I want you to remember this as you read on. No embellishing. I’ve been sitting on this for two years now, and I’m happy to be getting down in writing and sharing it with you. I hope you’ll enjoy.

It was about 90 degrees already at 8am, which for Aruba isn’t particularly unusual. As I did most mornings of this vacation, I woke up incredibly early and went down to the beach to claim a little hut and beach chairs that would prevent us from dying of heat stroke and alcohol poisoning in the blistering midday sun. With me on this vacation were three friends from Michigan. Fuller, Old Greg, and Hutchybear. The trip is exactly what you’d expect from four guys in paradise. A lot of drinking, a lot of throwing around the football in the water, and a lot of hitting on girls, almost always unsuccessfully. In fact, it was actually kind of funny to “throw salt” on each other’s game by interrupting innocent flirting by saying “oh, so I see you’ve met my friend Joran Van Der Sloot”. Sorry. Too soon?

After coming back upstairs to the room that morning, stepping over empties, making a PB&J, and putting on Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” for the four hundredth time, I opened up the computer my friend had brought and decided to check my email and of course Facebook. Since I was the only one without a blackberry at that point I was feeling slightly disconnected, and relished the opportunity to catch up while the boys were still passed out. I grabbed a seat by the kitchen counter and logged in. It almost seemed wrong connecting back to the world. I could hear the birds, and the ocean, and the curtains flicked against the wall with the gentle Aruban breeze. The thought of starting my summer internship in a little more than a week made me literally cringe. Talk about a tough transition.

Now to be perfectly honest here, I’d been dating a girl from school, kinda, and she had just graduated. She happened to have been an undergrad. Whatever. We had hung out back in New York before the trip and while I had absolutely no desire or aspirations of dating her, I thought at least I would’ve seen an email from her in my inbox. Nothing. A touch dismayed, I then opened up Facebook to a message and friend request from a very cute blonde girl named Krista Marks.

The name did not ring a bell and I tend to always remember a name and almost always a face. Her note read something to the effect of “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me, but we met in the Hamptons last summer. I just wanted to say hello and tell you I think you’d be a really great match for my friend”.

Tom Stoppard once said, “every exit is an entrance somewhere”. This was awfully convenient considering nothing was doing with this Michigan girl. I’m not going to lie. I was kind of intrigued by Krista. If Krista’s friend looked anything like Krista then I was about to meet a very pretty girl. But still, I had no idea who Krista Marks was. At this point the guys began to stir, the first beer was cracked open, and it was not time for computers. I accepted Krista’s friend request and wrote the following:

“Krista, I have to apologize, but I can’t quite remember where we met. Where exactly were we?”

We kicked ass that day out on the beach. Fuller, as always, represented America with his portable NASCAR beer cooler/satchel and doled out ice-cold Balashi’s all day to the four of us. We even befriended two girls, one of which was stunning. Her last name was Van Peenen and she had recently received breast implants. Isn’t it weird the details you remember? Anyway, by day’s end the four of us and our two new friends had turned one of these thatched beach umbrella hut things into a regular bar. As we all hung out, listened to music, and had a good time I couldn’t help but think about this Krista Marks character. Perhaps not 100% sober at this point I placed our meeting at Stephen Talkhouse in the summer of 2007. I wanted to believe I’d met her. Hell, maybe I did.

After we all deemed it essential to passing out in the room before dinner I checked the computer again, and lo and behold, a response from my new friend Krista.

“I forget the name of the bar we met at. Whatever. I think you’d really be great for my friend Ashley. What do you think?”

Well at this point we were Facebook friends because she had accepted my request, so I got to look at her profile. Old Westbury, New York. Puzzling. Not to stereotype, but I didn’t realize they made them tall and blond in that part of Long Island. She seemed sporty. Lots of Lilly Pulitzer. Very pretty friends. What did I have to lose?

I wrote, “Hey. I’m up for a set up. I’m actually going to be back in the city this summer, so I’d be willing to meet your friend Ashley”.

Krista’s response, not five minutes later, “Great. Her name is Ashley York. If she found out I was trying to set her up she’d kill me. She doesn’t like setups but I really think it would be a good match. Just send her a message and don’t mention me. Be cute and funny”.

Me writing back to Krista, “I’ll give it a try, but she has no clue who I am. This is kind of ridiculous. I’m a complete stranger. There’s no way it’s going to work”. But then I went onto Ashley York’s facebook profile and I was actually shocked. This girl was a straight up knockout. She had stunning blue eyes, although I’ve seen MUCH better since, and looked like a model. A little bit hungry looking, which I don’t particularly care for, but hot nonetheless. So I mustered up the courage, and wrote a short but sweet email to Ashley York. It read something like

“Hi Ashley. We haven’t met, but we have a bunch of mutual friends in common. I came across your profile and just thought I’d drop you a note. I’m actually back in the city this summer and thought it might a fun to grab a drink if you were available. I know this is really out of the blue, but it’s always nice to meet some new people. Hope you are enjoying the summer”.

Now, that is me trying to remember what I wrote two years ago. Clearly it wasn’t that, but that’s what I think I would’ve written. Total cheeseball awkwardness. I’m taking a little bit of artistic license here. But you write a note to a total stranger model and tell me what you’d say.

The next day I woke up early and hopped on the computer and was excited to see a note from Ashley York. It read “New York is a lot of fun. Enjoy being back”. Well, not exactly what I was looking for. I wrote back to Krista thanking her for trying to make it happen, but told her that it makes no sense why a complete stranger would want to meet me, and how if she just set us up herself, which I still couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t, then we might have a chance of actually meeting. Later that day Krista got back to me and urged me to try again and be funnier and more charming. I liked this Krista Marks. I didn’t know her, but I liked her. Lots of “LOL” and exclamation points, but her enthusiasm was appreciated. It was nice to have her in my corner trying to make this happen.

Unfortunately though, I was taking off. We’d managed to escape Aruba while not getting arrested or deported. My Aruba vacation and Ashley York will forever be entwined. I was off to a wedding in Toronto though. Krista’s unbridled enthusiasm and Ashley’s apparent surliness would have to wait until after I got back from the wedding.

Next: Making contact, cucumber sandwiches, and the Royal Ascot.

Winding Down

Yeah yeah. It's been a while. I know. The blog gods got me back though. As I was sitting out on a longboard during a surf lesson this weekend I started think about the last time I had blogged. I couldn't remember. It had to have been over 2 weeks ago. The air was crisp, the ocean warm, and I felt like a million bucks. And then all of the sudden I felt like five cents. Nausea slowly began to creep in and with every wave I caught I felt more and more ill. I honestly thought about vomiting right then and there out in the ocean, but then thought better of it because I had visions of grizzled fisherman chumming the waters in search of Great Whites, and if I threw up on myself, I'd basically be chumming myself.

I powered through, catching gnarly 1-2 foot barrels, because after all, with lobster salad at an offensive $60/lb down the street from the beach, the price points for anything out in the Hamptons don't exactly give you the warm fuzzies and I was determined to go until I literally couldn't go anymore. So when I got home the blogging gods made me pay and I gave back to the Earth if you will. I felt better immediately, but the moral of the story is make sure you hydrate and blog, in that order of course.

Now that I've spent several weekends out at the beach I think I've sufficiently lost touch with the pulse of New York. My world really exists from the walk to my office from my apartment and back. Thirteen blocks one way and thirteen blocks back. However, out in front of the little plaza where I work there's certainly some interesting things to be observed. For example, last week I sat next to an elderly man who was wearing a suit and proceeded to take scissors out of his pocket and cut his own hair. I also saw a woman perform an interesting feat of health as she alternated smoking a cigarette she held between her middle and index fingers, with eating a Snickers bar held between her thumb and ring finger on the same hand. People do strange things when it's this hot I suppose.

Maybe it's the heat, but I've decided to wind this thing down over the next couple of months. But before I do, I'm going to leave you with a final story, a true story, about me that I've told a million times in person but have yet to put down in writing. I don't know how many entries it's going to take, but it'll be my opus, if you will. I hope you stick it out with me for it.

Stay cool. It's hot out there.