2009 Sex & the Upper East Side Award Nominees

There were orgasms, there were hangovers, there were walks of shame, there were morning afters of glory. There were dirty talkers, dads, and speed daters. There were Englishmen and Irishmen, attorneys and accountants. And most importantly, there was sex. 2009 has been good to me.

With the year coming to an end, I thought it most appropriate to review my sex-capades of 2009 and honor the good, the bad, the “oh shit’s” and the “oh yeses.” So here are the nominees…

Most Scandalous Rendezvous
From Jon Gosselin abandoning his herd of eight children for a hardly legal woman to Levi Johnson knocking up Sarah Palin’s daughter, 2009 was full of sex and scandal. What neighborhood rendezvous topped the Sex & the Upper East Side chart this year?

Leigh Lewis
blowing her boss—at the office
Sexnomics-How to Get a Raise

The Realtor
talk about a titillating taxi ride
The Realtor

Jeremy
threesome anyone?
From Menage a Trois to Dinner for Two

Hershey
a secret nugget uncovered on Facebook
From Speed Dater to Step Mom

Vote Here


Best Walk of Shame
Whether it was me crawling home in the wee hours of the morning or a “dismissal” from the Love Shack, there were quite a few people partaking in their very own walks of shame this year on the Upper East Side.

The Valentine
be mine...never again
The Year Cupid Played Hooky

Harry
little white lie for a little white man
57 Inches

Benjamin
as the Ting Tings would say, that's not my name
Pillow Talk: The Dismissal

The Accountant
nipple biters not welcome
The Accountant

Vote Here


Dick Move of the Year
It’s not all sugar plums and doormen buildings on the Upper East Side. Who pulled the illest Kanye on Taylor move in the ‘hood this year?

The Trader
since when were you my boyfriend?
Dumped

Jimmy Whisk
he steals, he scores
Loose Lucy

Bacchus
giving doesn't always mean getting in my book
Selfish Lover

Bacchus/Juan Jose
nothing like a good Irish exit
Ditched

Vote Here


Man of the Year
Whether they were good in bed, hotter than Lebron, or it was lust at first sight, somebody has to be the best!

Hershey
the hottest chocolate you can get in this zip code

Jeremy
Tongue of the Year

The Realtor
making cab rides sexy since 1975

Benjamin
is there a Shit Show of the Year category?

Billy Blue
fresh meat, yet already one of my faves

Jimmy Whisk
don’t hate the player, hate the game

Vote Here


Cast your votes by Sunday, December 6th and stayed tuned for the results. Email me, call me, text me, hand deliver with a bottle of Jack. Votes accepted in all forms.

Email: sexandtheuppereastside@gmail.com
Facebook: Bacchus G’ues

Billy Blue

Continued from last week’s Single in the City...

“Hi. Who are you?” I asked, instantly drawn to this complete stranger. He was magnetic.

“I’m Billy Blue,” he said with a charming smile and sparking blue eyes.

“I’m Bacchus,” I returned, unable to come up with something witty to say, unable to focus on anything else in the room.

After staring at each other for the better half of Black Eyed Peas' “I Gotta Feelin’” I noticed some skitterish movement to my right. I was forced to break my eye lockdown with Billy to acknowledge the man who had so rudely interrupted our staring contest.

“Oh, this is my friend Robin, who I came here with,” Billy hurriedly introduced me to his sidekick. I quickly sized up Billy’s wingman and knew I had to divert him elsewhere.

“Oh, well this is Jenna,” I said as I ungracefully grabbed for my girlfriend who was a good five to six feet away, trapped in a conversation with an AARP member who had somehow managed to make his way to the upstairs bar without requiring an emergency hip replacement.

I was ready and willing to pawn Jenna off on Robin so that Billy and I could get back to staring at each other. I didn't know if Robin was gay, straight, employed, homeless, herpes-ridden, or secretly obsessed with Dungeons & Dragons, and unfortunately for Jenna's sake, I couldn't have cared less.

Billy and I chatted each other up for a good forty-five minutes, acknowledging Robin and Jenna only when utterly necessary. He was originally from Ireland, had a college education, didn't live with his mother, didn't own any cats, and was one of NYPD’s finest. I practically melted and simultaneously orgasmed right then and there in the middle of Mad River. Had I found my very own Detective Stabler, who fought crime by day and could consume liver-damaging amounts of whiskey by night? There was a god.

Eventually, Billy and Robin headed back downstairs as Jimmy Whisk and I closed the upstairs bar and wrapped up the very successful Single in the City happy hour. Soon thereafter I made my way downstairs, spotting Billy and Robin across the bar. As I made my way towards my godsend and his wingman, I saw Robin violently kicking Billy in the shin in an effort to give him a heads up that I was about to find him talking to two girls. I laughed and shook my head as I approached, with Robin awkwardly trying to make small talk as Billy blushed and stammered.

But I wasn’t worried about Billy talking to two women over the age of thirty wearing mom jeans with bad roots—I knew that I would be the one who would eventually seal the deal with Billy. And within one week, I had more than sealed the deal…

Single in the City

This past Thursday night, rather than meet up with Annie Smalls and Jenny Saurs for after-work drinks, I paired with dating experts New York Easy Dates and threw “Single in the City,” a happy hour for New York City-based singles. Ranging from twenty-something’s to early forty-something’s, one hundred single people of all heights, races, and professions with an affinity for dollar drinks and the hopes of finding love (or at least a potential Friday night date) crowded into the upstairs bar of Mad River for a good two hours of mingling with complete, but more importantly, single, strangers. While a few brave souls arrived solo, trying to portray an air of cool confidence as they saddled up to the bar to order their first drink, most attendees came with at least one sidekick to cling on to until a solid connection with a fellow singleton had been made.

As the singles filed in and I handed out name tags and directed any thirst and/or nerves towards the bar, I found myself asking, why hadn’t I attended more singles events in the past? While I’ve been rocking the single life for quite some time since The Attorney and I broke up last winter, I had only ever attended one event specifically for singles in all these months (see Three Minutes in Heaven). Not only did my past singles event experience provide me with some great writing material, I also got in a phenomenal Wicker Park make-out session as a result of my attendance. Why wouldn’t I want to take the guess work out of walking into a bar and wondering who, of the attractive, straight men in proper footwear, were available for flirting and perhaps a future fling?

As I made my rounds playing hostess, making sure the attendees were mingling, having fun, and drinking heavily, wondering why I didn’t do this more often, I had two gentlemen ask me how I normally met single men. As I recalled the dates, pick-up’s, and hook-ups of my past single year, I realized that the majority of the men I’ve dated in my New York life have been friends-of-friends, co-workers-of-friends, roommates-of-friends, or at the very least, acquaintances-of-friends. Aside from my rendezvous with threesome-loving, divorce-pending, face-washing-Nazi Jeremy and my short-lived dalliance with speed-dating Brooklyn Joe, The Attorney, Hershey, The Englishman, The Trader, The Realtor, The Accountant, and Benjamin had all come to fruition through mutual friends.

Eventually, the event died down and people exchanged business cards and phone numbers, promising each other emails and Facebook friend requests. I decided that perhaps I should jump on the singles event train. Although I at least knew the basics of what I was getting into when hooking up with a friend of a friend (excluding The Accountant’s surprise attack on my nipples), how bad could a few drinks with a complete stranger really be?

As I watched the singletons slowly file out, a tall, striking man with a navy blue sweater and a self-assurance that I hadn’t seen in the past two hours sauntered in.

“Hi. Who are you?” I asked, instantly drawn to this complete stranger. He was magnetic.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for the singles happy hour since it’s over and you’re not wearing a wristband,” I added, noticing his wristband-free wrist.

“I’m Billy Blue,” he said with a charming smile.

And then I boarded the “complete stranger” train…

Loose Lucy: Part II

Continued from last week’s “Loose Lucy”…

“Lucy seemed disappointed and a little confused about the whole not having a reservation thing, so I suggested we just go back to my place and order in. It worked like a charm too. Before I knew it, she was on my couch kicking her shoes off and making herself comfortable,” Jimmy recounted with pride.

“I’m totally pulling the diner trick next weekend,” Johnny announced.

“So what happened next? You spoon fed her home fries and the rest is history?” I asked.

Johnny and Jimmy looked at each other knowingly.

“I did make the effort to call the diner, but I lied and told her the line was busy and we would have to call back in five minutes. Again, Lucy was skeptical that a diner on the Upper East Side at 4:00 A.M. could be harder to get into than Buddakan on a Thursday night, but I just skimmed over those minor details and got down to business,” Jimmy explained.

“We started with the basics—making out and heavy petting. But after I took off her shirt and suggested we head into my bedroom, she freaked. She told me that she felt guilty for hooking up with me because she had been talking to Johnny the past few weeks and did in fact like him—she shouldn’t be hooking up with another guy, let alone one of his best friends.”

“So I scoffed, rolled my eyes while shaking my head, took her hands into mine and said, ‘So Lucy, Johnny didn’t tell you, did he?’ Lucy of course shook her head no, looking very worried and confused, as she sat topless with unzipped pants on my living room couch,” Jimmy went on.

“So with all seriousness, I said to her, ‘Lucy, Johnny has a serious a girlfriend. They have been together for over a year and a half. I can’t believe he never told you.’ Well that was all she needed to hear. She stood up, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into my bedroom.”

“You’re such an asshole, Whisk,” Johnny said, pounding his fist on the table. “I can’t believe you ever sealed this deal with Lucy.”

Johnny had of course heard this story before, in fact the very next morning when Jimmy conference called him and six of their other friends who lived together in a house in Brooklyn. But today’s recount was just another painful reminder of both the girlfriend Johnny lacked and the ass he never got from Lucy.

“Well, not only did I seal the deal the old-fashioned way, but my sexual prowess also brought out the freak in her,” Jimmy smugly explained.

“What’d she do? A little dirty talk, ass smacking, hot wax? How freaky can you get the first time you hook up with someone—especially someone you’ve only known for a total of ninety minutes who refuses to feed you?” I asked.

“Well Bacchus, I highly doubt food was on Lucy’s mind when she turned around and asked me to take the alternate route, if you know what I mean,” Jimmy professed with all seriousness.

A loud gasp escaped our table as my, Annie, and Otis’s jaws hit the floor and Johnny buried his head in his hands, wishing Jimmy had never walked into Tin Lizzie that Saturday night.

Jimmy sat back in his chair, beaming with pride as he sucked down the rest of his Heineken. “What can I say, I’m pretty irresistible.”

“What I actually find mind boggling about your little late night rendezvous with Lucy is, number one, that she invited you to visit Browntown the very first time you hooked up; and number two, that she actually forgot the name of someone who she was intimate with in Browntown. Maybe you weren’t as good as you thought, considering she totally erased your name from her Browntown database,” I insinuated.

“That’s a great point, Bacchus,” Johnny agreed. “You must have been pretty awful, Jimbo. I’m surprised she didn’t send you her therapy bill.”

“How could she send him her bill when she didn’t even remember his name?” Annie reminded the table as Johnny, Otis, and I laughed on.

“It happens to everyone.” Jimmy said in an attempt to defend both his ego and Lucy’s lack of memory. “Watch me seal this deal one more time.”

And with that, Jimmy got up from our table, sauntered over to Lucy for a second time that day, all smiles and charm.

“Lucy is skewing single men’s expectations for one night stands. She needs to start hanging out below 60th street.” I declared. “I thought the Upper East Side was supposed to be classy?”

“Not with you in this zip code, Bacchus.” Jimmy Whisk said as he slid back into his seat. “Why don’t you tell us about your latest sexcapade now?”