Good morning ladies and gents. Is it nice where you are? It’s beautiful here. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gentleman X, the ladies of Dating with a Dash of Salt’s charmingly anonymous heterosexual male friend. After a year and a half in a committed, monogamous relationship, I have been released into the wilds of singledom, thanks in part to a puppy (story to come at a later date). With little fanfare, I find myself thrust back into the NYC singles scene, and therefore in a position to provide the much needed testosterone shot to this blog. Ladies, join me as we laugh at my shortcomings and difficulties connecting with others. Men, join me in the times we will toast my successes (rate of frequency to be determined). Ask me anything and rest assured, the things Mandy has asked me will ALWAYS be more obscene and personal than anything you come up with.
So right off the bat, let‘s address the elephant in the room. As a 24 year old straight man living in New York City, it is NOT hard to meet girls. It’s a fact, there are more women than men (unless it’s Fleet Week), and the areas where it’s easiest to pick up a girl are common knowledge. That said, it can be a daunting task to meet a girl that one really likes. Let’s check a scenario:
It’s Saturday night. Yours truly is in the basement bar of a club in Union Square. Music is playing, lights are low, and there is drinking to be done. I weave my way through the crowd, towards the bar, to grab drinks for my two friends and I. Cocktails in hand I slowly make my way back to my group, only to be stopped by three girls. “It’s her birthday!” yells one, while pointing to her friend. We exchange pleasantries, and I end up dumping the drinks and talking with the girls. Inevitably, I find myself talking only to the tall blonde, Lucy (name was NOT changed to protect the innocent). She works in advertising (me too!), likes the Kings of Leon (me too!) and plays tennis (not me, but I rock at badminton, close enough). We talk for a bit, and I excuse myself to rejoin my friends after getting her number. She gives it, seemingly eagerly and says she is looking forward to hanging out with me.
Fast forward the requisite two days and it comes time to call her (question for the girls: is it two days? Does a man need to wait to call you?). I step out the front door of my office, dial her number and let it ring. After a time, it goes to voicemail, so I leave a message. Lo and behold, it’s more than a week later and nothing; No call, no text. Lucy has gone from being a pretty, seemingly cool girl to a careless, self absorbed primadonna in the blink of an eye. Why even give me her digits if she wasn’t responsive? Is it that hard to lie and say “I have a boyfriend” if you aren’t interested? Don’t make me plan out calling you and then go through the hassle of leaving you an awkward voicemail. I hate voicemails. I don’t even leave them for my family members.
So Lucy, this recipe is for you. Don’t waste my time. Get some balls and don’t give out your number to dudes you don’t want to call you.
Chicken Cordon Bleu Balls
9 ounces ground chicken
1/4 cup cooked, diced ham
1/2 cup Italian style bread crumbs
8 ounces Swiss cheese, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
canola oil for pan-frying
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. Combine the chicken, and egg in a large bowl until well blended. Gradually add bread crumbs until the mixture loses its stickiness and can be easily formed into balls.
3. Form the chicken mixture around the cheese cubes and chunks of ham, forming 2 inch balls. Place on a plate.
4. Heat 1 1/2 inches of oil in a deep skillet to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Fry the balls until the outsides are golden brown, about 4 minutes. Drain on paper towels, and place in baking dish.
5. Bake in preheated oven until cooked through and cheese is soft, about 20 minutes. Cool briefly before serving.