Ashley York Vol 7: A Tangled Web

Before I go any further I want to back up a quick second. In case the connection wasn't clear last episode when Troy's response to my mentioning Krista Marks was "Ashley York", the reason was because to lure his friend Cole, Krista had used herself as the springboard once again. Apparently she had played the "we've met before in (insert vague place/time here)" . It worked on me, and it had worked on Cole, and it started to dawn on me that Krista and Ashley (or were they the same person?) had worked on many many other people between 2003, when Cole "met" Ashley, and when I "met" Ashley five years later. Five years, same sick shtick...and all I can think of as I write this now, two years removed is The House of Vanger. But I digress...

Team Krashley went into overdrive. We were too resourceful to not figure this out. Plus now we had Troy. When Troy and Cole had traveled to Europe after college, at one point Troy got on the phone with Ashley after Cole had called her. I said to Troy, "doesn't she have the cutest British accent?". Troy's response, "what are you talking about, she's not British". He said, "Finger, I'm telling you man, she absolutely does not have a British accent". I was floored, once again. Who was this girl? What kind of crazy ass games was she playing? And then Troy decided that he himself had to hear Ashley speak. He had to hear her voice. It became his obsession.

I had other things to worry about though, like checking behind me as I walked into my apartment. I was legitimately spooked at this point, but I felt confident I was going to be able to explain everything. I couldn't let go of Ashley, not emotionally of course, but in terms of communications. It was vital to Team Krashley that I not fall off Ashley's radar. Krista on the other hand, well, she was a bit of a "facebook slut". I could get her attention any time I wanted. In fact, she wouldn't leave me the hell alone.

Here's a back and forth with Krista to illustrate. We had a conversation which she started, entitled "you alive?".

Krista Marks July 14 2008 3:59pm

Guess Not

John Finger July 14 2008 10:10pm

Yeah, I'm alive. Are you?

Krista Marks July 14 10:19pm

I AM - WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH U AN ASH???? WHY ARE THINGS WEIRD!!!!?!!???

John Finger July 14 2008 10:19pm

nothing is weird. What do you mean?

Krista Marks July 14 2008 10:26pm

NOT WHAT I HEAR

Weird is an understatement to describe what was going on, but I felt like if I just played it like I was still thinking about Ashley and that things were normal, maybe I could extract some kind of information from Krista. What was clearly obvious was that Krista and Ashley were in cahoots. I can clearly remember having a bonfire the following weekend in East Hampton and once again telling the story. New details had emerged and I'm not going to lie, I feel like I did a pretty bang up job of telling it. After I was done telling the story a friend from college pulled me aside and he said, "I know a guy who can find her. He can find anyone". So I responded, "great, put me in touch". And he said, "no, you don't understand, he can find anyone, but it's not cheap". I was thinking, how much would I spend to have this solved. He said "Two thousand bucks and I promise you, he'll find her". Well, I think I'd just take my chances with Team Krashley thank you very much.

That Monday Troy said he was going to contact Jared Morganstern, some big mucky muck over at Facebook and an old friend from Long Island. We were going right to the top here. But after a few emails and no response that conversation never materialized. Troy, let me tell you, he was adamant about talking to Ashley. He used to make me practice dialing him into calls from his cell phone and utilizing the calling from a "Private Number" function. His philosophy, "practice makes perfect", so occasionally we'd do our thing, dialing in to each others phones from private lines and such. It's not hard, but it's nothing I've ever done and I'm not the most tech savvy person of all time either. Troy also began putting out the feelers to his friends. He contacted his friend Ryan, from growing up, who also happened to have gone to Penn, and who also happened to be friends with Krista Marks. Troy had asked Ryan who Krista Marks was and Ryan's response "I don't know. She looked hot and she friended me, so I accepted". He had never met her and had never seen her, although he did say that last year Krista had contacted him insisting that he'd met her in the Hamptons. Ryan ignored her. This Krista was surely persistent. Ryan asked Troy what the deal was. Why was he asking all these random questions, so Troy gave him my story, and when Troy was done Ryan remarked that something about the name Ashley York was eerily familiar. He thought that he had recently met her. Ryan was going to think about it and get back to Troy.

Troy relayed this to me and of course I was pretty excited. Finally, a sighting. Ashley did exist. Not only did she exist but there had been a sighting, and a recent one at that. Ryan called Troy the next day. He hadn't met Ashley, but his friend Eric, a tennis player from Penn, was currently talking to her on Facebook and the phone and was supposed to go out with her. Ashley York = Black Widow Spider. Good God this girl works fast. All I could think of was how many balls was she juggling at once. How many guys were in her web. Troy Ryan Eric and I got on an email chain. I explained to Eric that he wasn't going to be meeting Ashley anytime soon and told him a watered down version of my story. He concurred that the whole thing was weird, starting with the initial note he received from Krista Marks all the way to the first time that Ashley flaked on him for drinks. My advice, stay away.

But the group dialogue proved to be a great way to disseminate and share information. We added Troy's friend Mark to it, who knew Cole. Mark knew of another guy who was friends with Krista Marks and that guy knew another one. Soon, a back and forth between me and Troy had turned into a real listserve. There were ten or so guys within a few days. It was an interesting cast of characters. Most were from the tri-state area, had gone to school at either on the Northeast or at one of the Big Ten schools, and many were Jewish. Ashley York's facebook profile showed that she had many friends and they posted on her wall. Stuff like, "hey, let me know when you're in the DC area". It seemed legitimate to me but I knew better. But back to the listserve...I mean, some of these guys really believed she existed. One guy said something like "I go to all the clubs and believe me, I would've remembered her if I saw her, and I'm hoping I'll find her one day". I chimed in, "nobody is ever going to meet her. She's not real". I'd had enough of the listserve after a few days. It wasn't helpful. Too much testosterone. I needed to focus.

Team Krashley recommended I do a reverse lookup on Ashley's phone number. I paid the requisite $20 and waited for a response. Finally I got it. The name that came back "Kim Daniel". Kim Daniel. Who the hell is Kim Daniel we all wondered and we all set out to find Kim Daniel. We poured through the directories and facebook and asked friends. Nothing. Well, something, but nothing substantial. We did know that the phone was purchased at a CellCo in Hackensack, NJ. But what did that do for us. There were a few Kim Daniels in northern New Jersey, but nothing that seemed to make sense as the women we looked up were all in their 40s and older. It was possible. We were hitting dead ends left and right. Looking back though, I wish we'd pursued that Kim Daniels lead a little harder, but things were about to take another bizarre turn.

Troy and I were on the phone one night. He had called me a few times from "private number" just to see if it worked, which it had. We chatted about new developments and stewed over our inability to make progress given the lead with Ryan's friend Eric and with Kim Daniel. We were letting this slip, and there was no reason for it. Well, maybe there was kind of, since, you know, I was trying to finish up a summer internship and get a job at my firm and you know, make something of myself and what have you. But Ashley York. Krista Marks. Ashley York. Krista Marks....

Krista Marks!

Krista was back on facebook messenger and she was messenging me some nonsense about me messing things up. At the same time I'm on the phone talking to Troy telling him that Krista just won't give up. Troy suggested that we get her on the phone, even if he just sat silent, he wanted to hear Krista explain herself.

Krista was blabbering away, and I was humoring her with, "I'm not sure", "I don't know", "something feels wrong", etc etc. She was buying it hook line and sinker. Meanwhile, Troy is pleading with me, "Finger, get her on the phone, just ask her to call you". So I write to Krista, "Krista, enough of this facebook bullshit. What's your number?" I tell Troy I'm going to call her and for him to hang up. We hang up. Krista says, "no, I'll call you what's your number". So I give it to her. Troy's on facebook messaging me now, "Finger, call me into the conversation right now. Before you call her". Troy's being persistent. So persistent that he can't wait. I get a call from "private number" again. I'm looking at it. Why can't Troy hold his horses for five seconds...

But let me take one second to tell you about Troy. And I might've told you this before, but Troy has a very distinct voice. He sounds kind of hoarse, and has since he was 9 years old. Deep voice, kind of scratchy, and very distinct.

It reads "private number" on my phone. Damnit Troy. I hit the answer button.

"Jesus, you are so impatient. Can't you wait like five seconds"

"Hello", said the voice on the other side.

"Troy, yeah, hi. Hold on a second"

"Who's Troy?"

Wait a second. What the fuck is going on here. I know this voice. But I don't know this voice. It sounds like Troy, but it doesn't. I start in again.

"Who is this?", I say.

"It's Krista".

And that 's' hissssssed like the day is long. I don't know how to describe this voice but it was somewhere between James Earl Jones and Richard Simmons, with a heavy slant on the Richard Simmons side of things. This cannot be for real.

"Hey Krista", I say, incredulously.

"So, what's the deal", Krista says, like she's talking to a close friend.

The word "deal", I don't know how, but Krista made it have 19 syllables.

"No deal. I'm just very confused right now", I said, barely managing to keep my composure.

"Do you like Ashley or not!?", Krista practically barked at me.

At the same time I'm facebook messaging with Troy. I tell him I'm speaking to Krista and Krista is a MAN.

You can imagine what was going through my head right now. Actually you probably can't. I know Ashley York was a girl, that I reminded myself was a fact. I'd spoken to Ashley, as you know, many times. But "Krista", did he/she really think he/she could get away with calling me and sounding like a man. Like a grown ass man. It was a man. It didn't sound like a man. It was. A. Fucking. MAN! All I could think of was "Ray Finkle is Lois Einhorn".

I don't even think the rest of my conversation with "Krista" was even coherent. I don't know what I said, but I feel like Krista just pressed me to stay involved and be a "man" (how ironic) and call Ashley. The same garbage she had been feeding me over facebook, but now, you know, just in the voice of an incredibly effeminate MAN. I hung up and just dropped my phone immediately, like it was a piece of kryptonite. I knew I needed to call Troy back, but I also needed a minute to digest.

My head spun. I had some calls to make. How does this story keep getting more twisted, I thought to myself. If only this was the last twist...

Ashley York Vol 6: Troy's Tale

That weekend I headed down to a bar call Three Steps in Grammercy. I can't recall what the occasion was exactly, but it gave me a chance to see some friends who I hadn't seen in a few weeks. One of these friends was my friend Sean, who of course wanted to hear the full Ashley York story since I think I had given him snippets over the weeks prior. The story was getting harder and harder to tell with every passing day due to the sheer number of crazy details that regularly emerged. I'm not sure I'd even exchanged so much as a text with Ashley in a few days, but I found a really good reason to break the silence before I headed to the bar. My friend Lexi, who went to Spence and would have been in the same class as Ashley was going to be at the bar too, so I texted Ashley, and told her I was going to see one of her old high school classmates at the bar, knowing full well that Ashley never had so much as set a foot in Spence. Her response was something to the effect of, "Oh she wouldn't remember me, I was the awkward British girl". People, believe me, if you saw this girl (and I will post pictures at some point) you would've at least, at the very very least, recalled having gone to school with her. I laughed off her response...but back to Sean. Upon completing the story to Sean he looked at me and said, "text her right now and tell her to send a picture of herself to you". Why would Sean ask that? Well, the prevailing theory was that maybe there really was no Ashley York. Or perhaps someone was posing as this blond girl in all the pictures. I mean, there was a person I spoke to and there was a picture, but maybe there was something else weird going on. I didn't rule it out although it seemed highly unlikely.

I looked at Sean and said what the hell. I texted Ashley. "I miss you". She hit me back immediately with an "I miss you too". I followed, "Seeing your face would really cheer me up. Send me a picture of yourself". The thought being that she wouldn't be able to produce a picture of herself immediately and thus would further confirm our theory. Her response not ten seconds later, "I look kinda gross, just got back from the gym" and attached, a picture of a sweaty, but still pretty, smiling Ashley York. Go figure. I was dumbfounded. Sean and I looked at each other incredulously. We had no idea what to make of it.

Team Krashley wanted me to walk a fine line. Stay close, but not too close. Get more information, but don't be too obvious. Try to meet her, but be careful. It was a lot. I wanted a call from my government connection. I wanted an answer. On Monday morning, sitting at my desk I got a call...from 202.

My friend said that nothing checked out. None of the schools she claimed to have gone to she went to, and none of the places she claimed to have lived in she lived in. I remember very clearly, he said, "Finger, I advise you to steer clear". Easy for him to say, Ashley hadn't left him by the side of the road in East Hampton holding his balls, tennis balls that is. I'd heard the word of the Department of Homeland Security but I still really didn't have an answer.

As I said last time, I've known Troy since 1990, but I hadn't seen him or spoken to him in years. My second week of Michigan I was walking to the business school and I see this guy coming out of Red Hot Lovers, a tried and true Ann Arbor hot dog institution on East U. I squint and am thinking, wow that looks like Troy, and maybe it is since Troy had gone to Michigan undergrad. Lo and behold, it was Troy, and the icing on the cake, Troy had just purchased, yes purchased Red Hot Lovers. Over the course of that first year in business school Troy would come up periodically to check on business and I'd come into Red Hots and he'd hook me up with dogs, chili, fries, and we'd go out to the bars and hang out and catch up. It was fun. But when I had left a message for Troy it was a serious matter.

On Tuesday my cell rings. Troy. We catch up a bit, talk about work and Michigan and just shoot the shit. He apologized for not calling sooner but he'd been in Capri with his family. I said, "Troy, I gotta ask you a random question. Do you know a girl named Krista Marks, from Old Westbury".

Silence.

"Why" Troy says, like he's leaning in real close. I explain to him that I was in Aruba back in May, and this Krista Marks emails me and she's trying to set me up, and then Troy interrupts me mid-sentence. Two words.

"Ashley York"

Silence.

Me, "What?"

"Ashley York" Troy says again, softly and slowly.

I swear to God, every single hair on my body stood up at that point. Hell, it's doing the same thing right now. I remember, I was standing next to the window, looking down at the street. I was wearing a pink shirt, grey slacks, and my brown shoes. I remember exactly where I was standing when I heard Troy say, "Ashley York".

I said, "how did you know?" Now Troy starts screaming into the phone "oh my God, oh my God", and I'm screaming a little bit too, for what, I don't exactly know, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Meanwhile, Jenny, my deskmate, nay, floormate is looking at me like I've literally lost my mind, but actually, I think I did. Once Troy and I stopped screaming at one another/together we started talking, quite frantically, as I tried to keep pace with what he was saying. What he first said was "stay away" and "you need to get away fast". I felt like my life was in danger and I asked as much, to which he said basically that it was. Shit. She knows where I live. I'm going to die.

Troy says, "Listen, I'm going to tell you something but you can't repeat it". I was all ears. He then delved deep into the craziest fucking story I've ever heard. I mean, you think this is all has been weird so far?...Child please.

Now it's been a while since I told Troy's tale, so if it's a little disjointed bare with me. And remember now, I'm at work and Troy is about to drop some knowledge. Here it goes...

Troy starts off by telling me back in 2003 when he was a senior at Michigan he lived with a few of his best friends. One of which was this guy named Cole. It was Troy and his friends' last semester. They were second semester seniors and when you are a second semester senior and you're single you basically try to live every single last day of COLLEGE like it's your last and Troy and his friends were doing just that, except for Cole. Cole had met some girl online that winter and had been spending an awful lot of time communicating with this girl. Pressed by Troy as to what the hell was going on with this girl online Cole had stated, somewhat reluctantly, that he had met this smoking hot girl online and that they'd spent a lot of time talking on the phone and emailing. In fact, they were officially dating. This girl's name, Ashley York.

At this point my chin hits the floor. I continue to listen. Troy says that Cole was extremely serious about Ashley to the point where he and Ashley had decided to continue to date when Cole graduated and moved back to Los Angeles. Ashley, for your edification, was working in New York at this point. Troy once asked Cole if he had even met Ashley, and Cole strangely, Troy said, never really gave him a good answer. This freaked Troy out, especially given that Cole's father had passed the year before and he had been on an emotional roller coaster for a year. This Ashley, Troy said, seemed to have given Cole something to latch onto at a difficult point in his life. Towards the end of the school year Troy told me that Cole and Ashley agreed to meet for the first time, in person, in New York. While Troy and all his friends cautioned Cole about the trip Cole seemed adamant and Troy said there was basically no talking the kid out of it. Cole left on a Friday, and he came back Sunday. When Cole came back all his friends were eagerly awaiting the full report. This was the girl Cole had fallen in love with online, and he'd finally gone to meet her in New York for the first time. Sounds romantic a little bit. Cole was bizarrely silent about his trip. He didn't say a word. Troy pressed, "did you guys meet up?". Cole's answer "no". At that point Troy and his friends were seriously worried about Cole, who from what Troy tells me, was pretty shaken up at the missed connection in New York, but Troy said Cole was undeterred, and apparently kept in close contact with Ashley post-Michigan, in what was a true bi-coastal long distance relationship. Troy moved the city and from time to time Cole would come to New York, to see friends, and to see his girlfriend Ashley. Troy tells me she always flaked on him. Every single time. One time she said she was too sick. One time she had an emergency work thing in another city. Time after time, month after month. But Cole kept coming back for more. Fast forward to the following winter, winter 2004. At this point, Troy says, Cole is seriously in a bad place, and even Cole's family is a little freaked out. He's been dating Ashley close to one year, and they still have, not, met. Cole decides he's going to invite Ashley to a Super Bowl party in New York and flies into the city. It's Super Bowl Sunday, and Troy and a bunch of his friends are about to head to the party and nobody can find Cole. Cole comes back the following day, in the morning, dressed in his same clothes from the day before, and of course everyone has been worried sick because Cole had literally dropped off the face of the earth for 24 hours, and all anyone knew was that he was supposed to be with Ashley. I'd say, "now this is where things get weird", but I feel like we got to that point a while ago, sooooo..., "now this is where things start crossing otherworldly boundaries". Troy gets in Cole's face and says, "where were you". Cole answers, "at the Super Bowl, in Houston, I went to meet Ashley". Yes, you read that correctly. Troy tells me he was dumbfounded. Apparently Cole had gotten to New York to learn that Ashley (the lover of big sporting events apparently...Wimbledon) had decided that morning to go to Houston for the game and told Cole to come. Cole BUYS A PLANE TICKET TO HOUSTON and flies to meet her. Arrives. Takes a cab to the Stadium and waits for Ashley outside the gate...

"And...." I say, literally on the brink of passing out.

"And he says he kissed her in the concourse".

"Okay, so there's proof she's real. He kissed her. He saw her. She's real"

And Troy says, "Finger, I've know Cole for a long time. He's one of my best friends. He's never lied to me about anything, but I know he was not telling the truth. He never saw her. He flew to Houston and back in one day for a girl who didn't even exist. He came back to New York and he acted like nothing ever happened and he never spoke her name ever again. I don't bring it up ever. None of my friends do. And Cole doesn't either".

Listen folks, I know. It's too strange to even believe, and you can imagine my reaction listening to Troy tell this story. What the hell was I to do with this information. I told Troy my story and he was excited. Excited because he wanted to catch her, whoever this was and make her pay for all the pain she had caused his best friend. Troy became an integral member of Team Krashley that day. You can imagine the phone call with Team Krashley that afternoon relaying this story to them. We were excited too. The most major breakthrough in the case yet, but there there was this feeling like, all right folks, we're dealing with someone who really might be dangerous and unstable. Had Ashley been up to her tricks since 2003? Were dealing with a professional here? A stone cold professional?

Maybe you don't poke this rattlesnake. Maybe you let sleeping dogs lie. Or maybe you hunker down, think a little harder, and smarter, and maybe you figure out who this "Ashley York" really is.

Ashley York Vol 5: Team Krashley & The Department of Homeland Security

Before I headed back to New York City that Sunday I received a message from Krista saying that Ashley had missed her flight to London and was decompressing at her parents home in New Jersey. Of course, as always, Krista told me I really wasn't supposed to know this, and suggested that it might lift Ashley's spirits if I called her. Clearly Krista didn't quite understand the drama that had taken place the day before. I don't even think I responded to Krista at that point, although I might've written back a token, "that's horrible", but I just wanted it to be Monday already and get as far away from that wretched weekend as possible.

I'd just settled in back in the city that evening, when I received a Facebook message from Ashley confirming what Krista had told me. I felt bad for Ashley, because not only was it a really sour note to end an already crappy weekend, but also because she missed arguably the best tennis match of all time, Nadal's five set triumph over Federer. I felt bad, but not bad enough to respond. I was still pretty pissed, so I went to sleep.

Now let me pause to tell you briefly about my set up at work at this time. I was working on an extremely large trading floor. How large you ask...you can air out a fly pattern from one end to the other pretty easily. And more, not a single soul inhabited a single seat on the ENTIRE trading floor except for my friend Jenny, who was in my program and was also interning in the same group. The two of us sat next to each other in the back corner of the last row. It was the world largest corner office as far as I was concernd, with windows all around, and just the buzzing of computers and fluorescent lights. I'm sitting at my desk on Monday and it couldn't have been much before 10am that I received a text from Ashley saying hello. We were clearly regressing, as her last two attempts to reach out were via Facebook and texting, and not talking over the phone. I had bigger fish to fry though. I'd told this story to a few friends at this point and as you could imagine it piqued some serious interest. As such, I thought that it might be better to assess this situation with Krista and Ashley with multiple people versus just me. So I assembled what came to be known as "Team Krashley", you know, a mash-up of Krista and Ashley, like Brad and Angelina's "Brangelina".

Team Krashley would end up expanding extraordinarily quickly, but I'll just tell you the original participants. Eric, who I mentioned in last week's edition, had taken an immediate fascination with this story and like me, really wanted to know who this girl actually was, aside from just the "stats" that I'd gathered over the past few weeks. James, an early proponent of the "there's something here that we're missing" school of thought, and methodical thinker and puzzle solver. Amanda, basically Amanda was the closer, like Mariano Rivera. If we were close, she was going to tie a bow around it, and actually had done so in another strange "caper" back in college (don't even bother asking because I don't have the time). My sister, who's Facebooking abilities are unparalleled, and also, my Dad was still maintained an interest, because like everyone else (and you) he was curious as to what the hell had happened that Saturday.

Team Krashley knew one thing: something was clearly amiss, and we were going to stop at pretty much nothing to figure it out. So we held several conference calls that monday laying out what we knew as the facts. I re-hashed the story and the lead up to that Saturday more times than I cared for but it was worth it, because we began asking each other questions that pointed to a number of strange issues. But before I go there, back to Ashley...

On Monday night I called Ashley. I wasn't having any of this Facebook or text messaging grab-ass anymore. She picked up, and we spoke, but really didn't hit too much on that past Saturday since I think we'd beaten a dead horse already. I said, "let's meet up tomorrow" for a drink. She said no, citing some event and some other issues at work, which had apparently become a major concern for her. I knew work was tough and she thought she could get let go, but now she seemed to suggest that this could easily be her last week. After she said no, I kind of just let the conversation die. I wasn't interested in talking about politics or Sesame street or scallops or otters. I wanted a date. Talk was cheap. I said goodnight.

The next day Team Krashley had an early conference call. First item up was the issue of Ashley's employment at Elle Magazine. Now earlier I told you that Ashley was only a contributor to the mag. I'd googled and I couldn't find a story with any byline mentioning Ashley York. Team Krashley agreed that we needed to figure out if Ashley really worked at Elle. We all agreed we'd call Elle's office and ask to speak to Ashley York separately to see what happened. Well, it was unanimous, there was no Ashley York who worked at Elle.

I protested though saying that she wasn't a full-time employee, but I had to say that it was interesting that nobody at Elle knew anything of this Ashley York, contributor, full-time, part-time or otherwise. But if you remembered from last week, I'd seen a blond in a black BMW drive by me as I sat outside of La Fondita. It had to have been her. It really did. What did a bitchy secretary at Elle know about part-time contributors anyway.

I thought a lot about it that night. I think I saw her. I knew I spoke to her. This Elle thing really was strange though but I could easily explain why her name wasn't on anything associated with the magazine. We actually caught up from a brief second that night after her event. She said that she wished we'd gone out instead of her going to this horrible work event. I'd wished the same thing, but I kept to myself. She sounded really sweet over the phone, like she knew she'd messed up, but maybe that was me projecting. We said goodnight and then I got a message from Krista..

July 8, 2008 at 12:18am

She justgot home and its the first time Ive seen her since. She came back from this foo foo fete. I askked her in passing bout u and she said shes a little confused. Shes ok w/ everything and said u wrote a nice email to her YAYAYAY! But shes a lil irked bout this past wknd. But thenwas like u wanted to see her tonite. And that u were really persistent bout it.

I think u need to just be u and let it come naturally. Think u two went thru somethin awkward and need to just do what u to do and talk. Maybe dont add the pressure of mtg up but get her all gaga bout u again. Just my opinion. U still like her?

I responded...

July 9, 2008 at 12:40am

Yeah, I wanted to see her and kind of put this thing in the past. I don't know. Still some things that just don't make sense. Just spoke to her and it was fine. We'll see though.

I got to work the next morning and stared at my computer screen. I recalled Ashley saying that she had had an event at the MoMA in Brooklyn. I remembered at the time thinking that there was no MoMA in Brooklyn, so I called the MoMA and asked to speak to someone in event planning. A very nice girl picked up and we had a lovely conversation. I asked her if Elle had recently had an event at the MoMA, and her answer, "yes". So maybe Ashley had been telling the truth. The girl interrupted, "wait, no, I'm sorry, they have an event scheduled for this Fall, they didn't have an event last week". And as for the MoMA in Brooklyn, "no, there's no such thing". I scratched my head and called Team Krashley. We all agreed that things were getting awfully weird and really weren't adding up.

What else did we know? Well between the bunch of us we knew a lot of people who had gone to Spence during the years that Ashley had attended the school. And if you don't know, there are probably 30 or so girls in each grade, so it's a very small school. The next day when we reconvened, the answers were unanimous, nobody had recalled a pretty British girl joining their classes. I had 500 people in my high school class, and I'm pretty sure I could name close to 80% of them if really pressed, so in a class of 30, if someone didn't remember someone, I mean, I don't know, but that's suspect. To be thorough, we then asked all of our Georgetown contacts too, and nobody had heard of her either, not even the alumni representative for the Class of 2004 which was Ashley's class.

The best part of Team Krashley was that we fueled each other's madness and we would constantly update one another even with the most trivial piece of information. It was kind of fun. As for Jenny, my deskmate, she thought I was absolutely crazy and couldn't understand why on God's green Earth my phone was ringing off the hook...until I told her the story and Team Krashley grew by one. And that was the real beauty of it. Team Krashley continued to grow with every new person that got involved. It was viral. It was crazy. Everyone loves a good mystery. Everyone loves solving a good mystery even more. And we were a bunch of over-achieving New Yorkers with a big network and a slow month of July.

Later that night I checked my facebook and had two messages from Krista from that day continuing on our prior conversation. One message from the morning and one from the evening. I didn't have a blackberry at this point so there was no mobile Facebooking for me, thus all the evening Facebook activity (just so you know).

She wrote...

July 9, 2008 at 9:43am

Ok wow. I just spoke to Ashley via phone and she said the same thing. "Things don't make sense" and "he was being weird"... WHY ARE U TWO BEING LIKE THIS!!! GET OVER URSRLVES!!! Unless u don't want this. Grow up people!!

Sent via Facebook Mobile

July 9, 2008 at 8:38pm

REMEMBER UR THE GUY!!!!!! CHASING THE HOT SMART GIRL!!!!

HAVE A GOOD NITE!

At this point things had really tapered off with Ashley. I had pretty much stopped "chasing the hot smart girl!!!". Ashley seemed to get kind of desperate on the text, saying she missed me and how she hoped we could give it another try. While I took a pretty passive approach to it all, it was kind of hard to forget about the person I'd really come to enjoy speaking to over the phone. I hadn't completely given up but I just needed to figure some things out, but the more I figured out the more this whole thing not only bothered me, but scared me. In fact, seeing as that Ashley knew where I lived I started getting a little bit paranoid that she was going to sneak up on me as I was coming in my building. I'm being honest. Team Krashley advised me to be alert, and then as we spoke about security James suggested something that I cannot believe we didn't think of earlier. We had a friend who was working at the Department of Homeland Security. Why not just do a background check? Like a full on Hunt for Red October meets The Bourne Identity meets Blackhawk Down meets 100% USDA Certified BACKGROUND CHECK. I mean, we all paid our taxes, so we were surely entitled to one measly government background check per year, right?

We called our friend and left a voicemail. Later that day I get a call on my cell phone from a 202 number. Not 202-something. Just 202. Washington. D. C...it was The Government.

I quickly gave my friend the full rundown. He asked me to send him as much information on Ashley as I knew and he'd see if he could run it to his friend who had the access to run a check. I gave him the kitchen sink. I mean, I poured everything everything everything into email and sent it off. Team Krashley was riding high, but what did this all mean for me?

Everything seemed to point to Ashley not being honest, about anything, yet I was speaking to someone the entire time. It was a real person, and an engaging person at that. But why would this person lie so badly to me, seemingly about everything. It didn't make sense.

That night I got on the computer and started checking out some of the mutual friends I had with Ashley. None. Krista...one. My friend Troy who I'd known since summer camp when we were 8 years old. He grew up in Old Westbury, where Krista had grown up. When I say that Troy knew everyone in Long Island I do not exaggerate.

The next day at work I called Troy and left a voicemail. We didn't speak often, so I just said that I was hoping to catch up with him and that I had a question about someone from Long Island he might know.

Contact with Ashley was beginning to trickle to a slow drip. The second half of the week was even more strange because loudmouth Krista was eerily quiet. We'd made a lot of good progress that week and I awaited two incredibly important calls, one from the United States Department of Homeland Security and one from Troy. I knew one would come through big time, but the one who would come through big time was not the one I anticipated, and further, the call I would get the following week would not only blow this case wide open, but also would take this Ashley York saga into uncharted waters even I wasn't not willing to swim in.

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.