(photo by koury angelo)

Considering that it was a Monday- I was going to take the night off from going out. After all, I am a 9 to 5 woman, and wearing sunglasses at your desk with little packets of Alka-Seltzer, Vitamin Water, and V-8 don't bode well with the boss. I was also looking forward to catching up on my sleep and let's face it keeping a little money in my pocket. Everyone in New York these days seems to have a cash flow problem, even Trump, and I'm no exception. According to my friend Kim, cash and good fortune was about to flow back to me again.

Last Thursday I was sitting in Max Fish on the Lower East Side with two of my girlfriends Kim and Jes. We like Max Fish, not only because there is a pool table, pinball machine, and good drink specials, but also because the boys are good eye candy, but they are only eye candy. Anyone that has ever dated a skateboarder, surfer, actor, or bartender knows what I am talking about. It's also the kind of place where a guy will ask you to buy them a drink, not the other way around.

We were sitting next to the pinball machine drinking PBR's when my palm began to itch.

"Quick! Make a fist and put it in your pocket!" Kim screamed as she rolled my hand into a fist.

"What? What are you talking about?" I said confused.

"I'm superstitious! If your palm itches, that means money is coming to you, but you have to put your hand in your pocket!" Kim said enthusiastically.

I wasn't against a little superstition that might bring me some welcome cash flow.

The weekend comes and goes. Before I know it, I am at my gym Equinox checking my messages in the locker room when Mark calls me. "You have to come out tonight!" Mark says with almost a whine. "It's going to be cute."

Mark is a fashion coordinator, with great fashion sense. He can pull together a great pair of paper thin jeans with his Cartier rings and a Paul Smith shirt in a New York second. He also lives for the nightlight, cute rocker boys, and disco naps.

"Mark, It's Monday night, I'm at the gym, and I want to catch up on my sleep and..."

"Girl, you know your apartment is SWEATSHOP hot! Le Souk is air conditioned with free drinks, free food, and the crowd is going to be cute."

"Alright, I'll meet you at 11pm." I have always been easily persuaded when it comes to going out.

I go to Piano's on Ludlow with my beautiful French cousin Sophie to have a pre-Le Souk drink. Piano's is another eye candy place if you are into boys with over worked hair (which I am not) or tattoos (which I am) or boys that are in bands (which, by the way- you can't swing a  Balenciaga bag with out hitting someone at Pianos that is in a band). Even Chris Martin from Coldplay was their last week, casually eating fries and looking at the crowd.

I walk in and begin to simultaneously (but lightly) flirt with the bar-back and the door guy while I wait for Mark to meet me to go over to Le Souk. One of the guys is adorable, with beautiful blond hair indie rock hair, and the other is well, fierce (as Mark put it), with raven black hair, piecing eyes, tattoos, and Italian features. The one with tattoos is very respectful and a little reserved. "Ah, he must have a girlfriend." I say to myself. I hug him good night; he kisses me on the cheek. "See you soon?" He says as I walk away. "Yeah, I'll pop back in again." Smiling coyly. I walk over to say good-bye to the other one, who had been telling me that he was thinking of leaving New York. I tell him he should stay in New York; there is no better city, when he blurts out "I have a girlfriend." I started to laugh.

He begins to blush, "Um, I just realized that you didn't actually ask me out..."

"No, I didn't, but you're really sweet..." I said with a smile. After he finished shaking his head from embarrassment, he gave me hug and I walked outside.

Mark and I meet in front of Piano's and like a perfect gentlemen, he opened the cab door for me. I looked down at the cab floor and it looked like someone had left a 20-dollar bill on the floor. I was wrong. It was a $100 bill. "Oh hell yes!!!" I said.

"Damn it!" Mark said, "I should have gotten into the cab first!!!"

"Don't worry honey, shots of Patron on me." I said.

Mark and I walked into Le Souk, where he was correct: the crowd was cute, the music was good, and Jordan's (the promoter) table was overflowing with beautiful guests, Cliquot, and Grey Goose. Le Souk is a Moroccan themed night club with fabric flowing from the ceiling dotted with glowing metal lanterns. Mark and I sit next to the hookah and he pours me a glass of champagne. As I sip I look over and see an incredibly handsome man. Mark looks him over and gives me the "stats".

"Prada mules, Dolce and Gabbana watch, Paul Smith pocket square. Nice double-breasted hand stitched jacket." Mark said caressing his glass of Cliquot.

"Gay?" I ask Mark.

"No, European." He said back.

Just then I made eye contact with him.

"I'm going to give him the profile." I say slyly to Mark.

"Slowly girl, slowly, don't wanna give him whiplash." Mark says with a smile.

I walk around the club, when the handsome man grabs my hand, he asks if I am leaving. He has a beautiful accent that I can quite discern. When I say no I am not leaving, he asks if we can go to a quiet corner and talk.
He is sweet, Turkish (ah! I would have never guessed in a million years), a fashion designer, incredibly polite, and he smells like amber.

It is 2am and Cinderalla's carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin so I dash outside and hail a cab to head home to chinatown. I look down at the cab floor- no money, but I have a feeling that will be a habit now...

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