A friend of mine was in the city filming a movie. She and I aren’t as close as we used to be, and don’t talk all that often, but we had done dinner one night, and talked about being single (she had just broke up with her boyfriend and I was as always single).

Two days later she called me. She had met this guy who worked in locations on her set. She thought he seemed nice, and he was single, and she was setting us up on a blind date.

Now I’ve never had the best luck on blind dates, they usually make me question my friendships…basically I would sit there looking at some guy wondering how what I thought was a good friend would think anything about this person was “right” for me.

But against my better judgment I agreed to meet this guy for a drink. He and I exchanged a few phone calls, and had our after work drinks planed with the option of seeing how it goes and maybe grabbing dinner. He actually said that which I thought was a huge turn off, but I let it go.

He picked this very posh cocktail lounge in Lower Manhattan, which frankly was alittle to stylish for my liking on a first date. He sent me a text saying he would be about 10 minutes late, I was surprising on time, so I texted back saying no worries I’d wait at the bar. I settled into the bar and ordered my very delicious but completely over priced drink.

Upon his arrival he seemed normal. Tall and in a business suit, dark featured, but nothing really to write home about, just seemingly normal. He smiled, I smiled, and we started into the usual blind date get to know you banter.

And then about 10 or 15 minutes into our seemingly ok date (there was nothing really there but the company was nice and the drinks were delicious) He says the following to me, “ I’m glad you sat at the bar and not at a table” “ Why is that” I asked him. And then he said the following as if it was second nature to him,

“ Cause at least at the bar we only have to deal with the one black bartender.”

I gave him a questionable look, in which he then proceeded to rant about how people of pretty much every race but ‘white’ were terrible serves in restaurant, and how he had no idea this place started hiring so many ‘black’ people since he had last been.

I sat there with what was most likely the blankest of blank stares on my face. My jaw may have actually hit the bar. I see from the corner of my eye, the two bartenders frozen where they were staring at us. I feel embarrassed to be with this guy, and sad for him at the same time.

Are these words really leaving his mouth? Is he really in the middle of this bar going on a rant about how he hates black people? And why am I not wearing my Obama T-shirt when I need it?

As he proceeded to continue on some racist banter about something I interrupted him in the only way I could think of at the moment.

“I think I should just let you know that my Dad is black”.

He looked at me as if a bus had just hit him.

“ But you’re white.”

“ I know. I look white, my brother looks black, that is how it works.”

Silence fell. It felt like every eye within a 4-foot vicinity of us had stopped what they were doing and watching the tale I was telling him unravel.

“So you could have a baby that looks black?” He asked me still looking at my ivory white skin in total shock.

“ Oh yeah of course, I could pop out babies black as night.”

This look of terror came over his face, as what I can only described as this fear that he could have gambled with having sex with me and never would have know what he was sticking his penis in unless I had said something.

“ I’m going to go use the ladies room, and when I’m get back I assume you aren’t going to be here” I said as I got up off my chair and walked to the restrooms.

When I returned he was no longer sitting at the bar, and I assume he used what little braincells he had to tell himself leaving was the best option for him.

I on the other hand was greeted by a round of applause from the bartenders and the two people sitting next to us when I returned to the bar area. He apparently had said the following to the one male (‘white’) bartender before leaving:  “she’s half black” with a confused look on his face.

I sat down and had another drink on the house, and the bartenders also picked up the tab that my date had so gentlemanly left me with, which included his $40 glass of whisky.

FACT: I might just be the whitest kid you know.

SIDEBAR: This was the last blind date I ever went on, or will ever go one for that matter.

Here’s the thing I have been thinking about how I’ve been told on 3 occasions when I’ve meet a guy I’ve been seeing (involved with or dating) friends.

I’ve been told how great that guy is, how special he is, and how I better, in a sense, watch myself. I’ve been told that I need to understand how special and wonderful said guy is, and how I need to treat him well.

Now I get alittle thrown off because these are always the conversations I see people telling the guy who is dating the girl, at least that’s how it happens in the movies and on TV. It’s almost never people telling the girl to take care of the guy she is dating. Or is it?

Now most of the time when this happens I kind of want to say “Are you kidding me? You just meet me, but let me tell you something I am the real catch in this relationship.” Alas, I jus say, “ I know” and nod my head, or smile sweetly as I get told how great their guy friend is and how lucky I apparently am to be graced with his presence.

Here’s what gets me though. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend tell any guy I’ve ever brought around that I am a catch, or they need to treat me right. In fact, I pretty much am positive no friend has ever let a guy know that I am worthy of being treated well.

Maybe my friends assume that by the time I get around to introducing guys to them that I’ve already vented the bad ones out. Maybe they trust my judgment and what I’m doing.

But then again knowing my past judgment in relationships or men you would think my friends would let boys know that they should treat me well.

So question is do my friends just trust me that much? I find that hard to believe. Maybe no one really cares in a sense. They just assume I’ll pull myself back up at the end of the day, like I always do so why waste their time telling a guy I’m dating to treat me right and realize I’m special….but I think I’m worth that, just alittle bit, maybe.

Let’s face it we all find ourselves in situations with the opposite sex (and same sex) that are less than ideal.  The retched being picked up or should I say attempt at being picked up is always a circumstance I dread.  However, after years of practice I’ve found some interesting and straight up nasty ways of getting that man who has attached himself to me to leave.

SIDEBAR:  Those who know me are always shocked when I pull these out of the bag of tricks, because I’m always the nice one who will politely talk to the creepy boy and make a nice and descent exit, however, sometimes you can’t hold back.

6 Excuses I have used to get out of talking to a guy (or ways to get him to leave you alone!)

1.  When he asks you what kind of drink you want and insists he buys you one even after you’ve made it clear you don’t want one you come up with a disgusting drink concoction. This concoction should include two types of alcohol and orange soda if possible.  My personal favorite is Jamison, Greygoose, orange soda, and bitters.  When he asks if it’s good you say: “ No, but it gets me angry drunk, and that’s what I’m going for tonight!

2. Put a ring on it!  Yes girls do take rings off their other fingers turn them around and make them look like wedding rings so they can tell guys they are married. However, this doesn’t always work, but when you tell him you are married, make sure you say it’s to a woman.  Guys are fascinated by lesbians, but for some reason they get turned off by married lesbians.

3. Pretend you are deaf.  This only works when you are alone, and not sitting with headphones on.  I have on more than one occasion pretended I couldn’t hear on the subway when some creepy man has started to talk to me. I also do a great ‘deaf speak’ of “ I can’t hear” with the sign language followed by a smile and a look away.  This should not be confused with not speaking English. Guys get turned on by the idea of you not speaking English, but no one wants to be the creep hitting on the deaf girl.

4.  When at a bar ask the guy if he came with any female friends. When he asks why, or says yes. Ask if he thinks they might have a tampon cause you’re bleeding through them like crazy. They run faster than Moses parted the red sea.

5.  Start to dry heave and excuse yourself. Only at a small house party gathering will you maybe encounter the guy who will follow you and want to hold your hair, otherwise they’re done with you. Starting to pick your nose also works very well, as long as you get right up in there.

6. When they ask for your number say it’s better if they give you theirs because you wont be availed for a while. Tell them your doctors says you shouldn’t be having sex until 5 days after this cycle of medication you’re on is finished.

Let me first say this:

Yes this happened. Believe me and the friend’s shoulders I’ve drunkenly cried on….this happened.

I have no idea when a switch happened, if the switched happened, how long something happened for or what have you all I know and remember are the words being whispered in my ear by him, and he wasn’t where I thought he was.

The aftermath……… (only so you’ll all stop emailing me, not cause I really want to hash back at this topic-guy!)

Two days later I get a text message: “I had a wonderful time can’t wait to see you again.”

I didn’t respond.

Three days later I get flowers at my office.  I don’t remember what the card said but something to the above.

Text message: “Would love to dinner tonight if you’re free?”

I responded:  ”I’m not interested but I’m sure you have someone else in your life who you can take!”

Stumpy: “ Oh that’s just NAME, we hang out a lot. She really liked you.”

NO RESPONSE

The next day.

Text message:  “Didn’t hear back from you. If you want to pick that girl that’s cool too, it doesn’t have to be NAME.”

AND THAT IS THE LAST I HEARD FROM HIM……

On a side note it forced me to take the stairs more at. work

SIDEBAR: This is also a story I’ve sat on for a while. I’ve struggled with on so many levels, but in the end putting it out there is always best, or not. But here we go *deep breath*

You, Me, and the Stump equals three! Part One and Two!

I had noticed Elevator-Hottie since I starting working in the building 5 months ago. Ok, I didn’t notice him I straight up stared and maybe drooled at him. This man was hot, and by hot I mean HAWT!

We always seemed to be stuck in the elevator together, most times alone no matter what time of the day.

I simply chalked this up to fate!

We had exchanged a few smiles back and forth (god he had great teeth) but other then that, he watched the elevator TV and I pretended to be doing something important on my phone while I checked out his hot ass in his nice suit!

I worked late that night and as I was leaving the office around 8pm, I clicked the down button.

The door opened and there stood his tall gorgeous frame. (If I were a guy I would’ve got an instant hard on)

He smiled. I quickly looked down at my phone.

Elevator-Hottie: Can I just say something?

I looked up, mouth open from shock and stared at his beautiful face. I did not say anything, I don’t think I even nodded, but may have turned bright red.

Elevator-Hottie: You’re gorgeous! I’d love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like and are available.

I keep staring, drool may or may not have fallen from my mouth.

“Ummmm…(What ever I said here was most definitely babble and I fear evening thinking about it. I’ve blocked it from my memory)”

Elevator-Hottie: Can I get your card?

“Umm…yeah…sure” I fumbled for a card.

Elevator-Hottie: “I always wondered what you did at ‘the magazine with boobies’……”

His voice trailed off as he got off the elevator. I was planted firmly in my place still in shock and awe from the fact he even talked to me. ME!?! Did he just ask me out? HE asked ME, (ME?!) out!?!

The elevator doors closed!

SIDEBAR: I am an idiot!

I press the button the doors open (as I am already on the first floor). I walk out he is gone and there is Tom my favorite of our night security desk guys. “Smooth, very smooth!” He says with a smile.

I blew it! I totally blew it! Oh well.

But I get a phone call that night, and it was Elevator-Hottie. Seriously, I was now staring to believe in this ‘fate’ stuff.

Our first date was to be an after work drink. Although in all honesty I didn’t go to work till the end of day cause I was picking out the perfect outfit, getting my hair just right, doing nails, and all the girl (yes sometimes I’m like that) stuff!

We had a seemingly perfect first date. We had great conversation, I didn’t get to drunk (a usual first date flaw on my part) we ended up grabbing dinner, all in all a great date. As we were saying our goodbyes he gave me a “had a great time” accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.

He hates me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third drink, maybe I talked to much, I probably swore to much, maybe it’s cause I made fun of him…..urg such is my life!

But he called me. And he kept calling me.

Now Elevator-Hottie was everything you’d want in a man, especially in a Manhattan man. Tall, unbelievable handsome, very well educated, good family, owned his own apartment with a park view (and not stand on the toilet  in the bathroom tilt your head kind of view, we’re talking a view!) He had great job, and he even a summer house.

Date number 12 rolls around and the most action I’ve gotten is a peck on the lips and a pat on the back hug. And a few flower arrangements sent to my office.

I mean come on, a girl cant wait forever. In my dating world 12 dates is pretty much an engagement! So you better pony up! I was so confused by the situation, and never been in one like this before. Plus, I like sex so I was alittle upset on that front too.

I was also struggling with him because as perfect on paper as he may have been. He really didn’t make me laugh. OK, I shouldn’t say that he was funny he would make any normal girl laugh alot. But I need and want a guy who makes me spit out my drink, maybe pee my pants just alittle bit laugh! (It’s a requirement)

My friends all pushed me towards the ‘perfect on paper’ and said to ignore the other details.

Oh right, I’m forgetting that one other detail. You see for all his great perfect on paper points, there’s one little thing he didn’t have.

One quality mister-perfect-elevator-hottie-on-paper was missing.

Actually, it was more of an appendage then a quality. You see Elevator-Hottie was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a prosthetic, no leg, a whatever you want to call it………There was no leg!

So I rationalized his lack of physical contact as a shyness of his stump.

Maybe it was all scared up and nasty! Maybe it was shaped funny. Maybe he was scared I’d want to lick it during foreplay.

All I knew was if he didn’t take my pants off on this our 14th date, it’s over.

Leg or no leg : Over!

I get a Text message: Instead, why don’t you come over and we’ll order in and watch a movie.

Thank you Jesus! Come over and watch a movie IS and has always been code for come over and have sex!

But now I was terrified. I frantically spent hours googling sex with one legged men, and so on. These results turned up nothing but scary porn, and creepy craigslist ads.

This was it. You see if the sex is amazing, I guess I can get over the lack of gut hurting laugher. Plus, I was starting to really like him. NowI was more nervous then excited.

I show up at his apartment. I walk in the door and he jumps me. Wow! Like throws me against the wall, jumps me.

Where did this guy come from?

Lips are intertwined, arms are throwing and ripping off clothes. This one legged Hottie was on a mission! And his mission was me!

We take this action into the bedroom. We’re doing it, and we’re doing it. Oh and we’re doing it! And it was really great. And did I mention the view of the park from the bedroom!? The whole thing was hot and amazing!

I’m in the moment. Really in the moment, and then he decides he wants to take a trip…downtown !

And as I lay there with my eyes closed enjoying his downtown adventure I hear a soft whisper in my ear.

“She’s good isn’t she.”

I look over. I look down. I look over. I look down. I look…I look DOWN!

And there between my legs is this mass of grey hair.

I jump back! So fast and hard I hit the headboard and the back of my head started to bleed.

There at the foot of the bed is this …..Old Lady.

Now not just old, we’re talking tales from the crept, old lady boobs to her knees, fucking Old Lady OLD!

As I’m picking up my stuff I’m speechless. More shocked then when he asked me out in the elevator. I kept looking at him and his perfect body his mouth was moving, something about it being ok, how he wants me to stay. I kept looking at her with her really not perfect body saying something about how he was right I am really pretty.

And I couldn’t say anything. Maybe it was just the surprise of it, maybe it was the feeling that I was pretty much just violated by an old woman, or maybe it’s because I hit my head so hard I was pretty sure I was dying of a brain bleed. I was shaking and in shock, and just wanting to leave.

As I ran out in my jacket, one shoe and holding everything else I came in with. I walked into the bar across the street asked where the bathroom was and said I was coming back for shots!

As I put my clothes on I held back tears. I don’t know why exactly, but I had never wanted to be more loved and cherished by a man then in that moment. It sounds odd I know, but all I could think was why couldn’t I meet a nice guy, why does every guy I meet need to be an asshole douchebag or a freak. Why won’t anyone ever just love me. What was wrong with me?

Because just when you think someone is perfect on paper you realize their grandmother is doing the book keeping from inside the closet, or under the bed, or wherever one hides a walking swinger of a corpse!

However, this past weekend I observed/overheard a few things about the opposite sex.  These five events all took place over the weekend. These are perfect examples as to why I am so called “picky”.  Cause sometimes guys just make me shake my head.

1. Walking down the street near NYU passed by two guys having a conversation. These two guys couldn’t have been older then 23 and defiantly were students.  I only really over heard the following:  “You need to play them the new Little Wayne song, it’s funny as hell and the ladies love his shit!”    Wow, I wish I had a boy that would have me over to his dorm room and play Little Wayne.  Oh wait……(*sigh*)

2.   “There were a lot of good bitches there…and then 10minutes later they all left.”   These guys crossing the street in hells kitchen/midtown need to realize that just maybe all those bitches saw them and ran away.

3.  When I can see the crotch seam to your boxer briefs then your pants are way to low.  That is all I’m going to say about that.

4.  Sitting at a coffee shop in union square area a young pretty good-looking guy walks in. Walks in door, walks over towards the register but stops at the refrigerated compartment where they have cold drinks. Picks up a bottle of water, throws it up in the air so it spins he grabs it as it comes down. He then turns around and walks out of the door. Personally, I like guys who can pay for their own water, I don’t know about you, but that is just me.

5.  “Well how much for two girls?”  Now we should be clear I was walking outside near 59^th and 6^th at 3am, and I saw this guy leaning against a building, talking on his cell phone.  The best part of this and he didn’t say like he was going up in price as in ‘wow that’s a deal maybe I’ll try two.  This guy said it like ‘WOW that’s a lot’ and moved down to two from whatever number he was at previous.

SIDEBAR:  I think women putting on makeup on in public are one of the most disgusting things in the world. I’m not talking a little lipstick and such. I’m talking pulling out their cakey gross spongy compact and rubbing it all over their face, or mascara on…it makes me throw up in my mouth especially when its on the subway!

Not only do I find no joy in it.  I also find no point to it. And I happen to have the right knee of 72 year old. (due to year of running after soccer balls, and a small incident involving a car)

SIDEBAR: I do however seem to find lots of guys who seem to run from me.

Now, I had this discussion with a friend of mine last weekend.  And she agreed, mainly because she, like me doesn’t like it or see the point in it.  “As long as they don’t expect me to run with them. I’m cool with it.”

Well here’s the thing:  They are never cool with you not doing it. Running like all sports related topics are things people become fanatical about.  Now I’m not talking stop your life for fanatical…..but sometimes I am.  People who get fanatical about things need to check themselves.

Runner boys say they are cool with you not joining them. But the topic always finds away to come up and be stuffed in your face over and over again. Now I’m not saying I don’t like doing activities and sporty type things, I’m not saying that at all.

Maybe just maybe I’ll break down and go with them. It’s been known to happen. But I don’t last very long till my knee screams (stops) and lets be honest my out of shape ass can’t breath.  And then THAT has to come up.  I maybe slowed them down, or didn’t push myself, blah blah blah….

Don’t get me started on pushing myself. I can’t stand being pushed into something physical or in the fitness realm.  I’ve gone through almost every personal trainer at the gyms because if you yell at me I’m done with you. I do what I want to the point I want.  (this maybe why my ass is so huge but we aren’t talking about my ass right now)

So yeah, running!  I hate it, and can’t bring myself to date anyone who likes it, or even worse those guys who love it.  It isn’t fun, stop telling yourself it is!

Plus, I can think of many other fun activities that can get your heart rate pumping. Activity’s that I find fun as well.  Couples who run together make me vomit in my mouth!

FACT: I say “running after soccer balls” because girls soccer is and always will be ‘kick-and-chase’, and we’re all better off if we can just admit that now.

The following are 10 things I never want to hear another boy say to me (Again)!

1) “You have a cute little tummy.”

Are you serious right now!? I am like 99.9862% positive you just called me fat.

2) “I forgot how great you are.”

Of course I’m great you tard! I’m amazing in fact, and all that time you spent away/forgetting me was totally your loss!

3) “If you also have toast and bacon or sausage that would be great too.”

Dude I just made you eggs, fruit, and coffee and this is the first time we’ve had sex. Check yourself! Then check yourself again!

4) “Don’t forget your granny panties.”

They may or may not fall under the category of “granny panties” that is irrelevant. All I know is you seemed pretty excited to be seeing them earlier so pay them some respect.

5) “Can I take a shower?”

I’m going to let you cause I’m a good hostess, but No, no you cannot take a shower. Unless we are in a committed relationship or we are spending the whole day together you cannot use my shower and use a perfectly clean towel, or my expensive shampoo. Pick up your dirty clothes put them on and leave.

6) “We have to lay sideways on the bed or it makes noise.”

Ok I get it your bed squeaks when we “move”, that is cool I can respect that. But if it makes those noises just from a little motion you need to either get a new bed frame or find someone else who is comfortable only “being” in one spot.

7) “I’m not really looking for a serious relationship right now.”

Dude! Did you hear me at anytime say I was? Wow, you’re great and all, but your heads getting big. I like you and you interest me that is all…. Nobody mentioned a relationship and I sure as hell didn’t mention babies!

8) “That was my ex girlfriends I just haven’t gotten around to throwing it out.”

Please note if you have been out of a relationship more then 2weeks your apartment should Not include the following: makeup, nail polish, jewelry which obviously cost less the $20, female deodorant, a curling or flat iron, or tampons.  (Also, unless you guys lived together your apartment should never include the above)

9) “Are you going to write about me?”

Only when you say stupid ass stuff like that, Einstein! I’m spending time with you which means I probably like you enough to not subject you to being mentioned in a silly blog, or I will write about you once you become a douche-bag.

10) “What do you like to do for fun?”

I’m here right now and I was having fun until you started asking stupid questions like that.

(reason #___why I’m single: I can’t control my eye rolls when people say stupid things.)

SIDEBAR: I also have no desire to get into someone else’s dirty shower.

Well here is the thing, I am not really here to blog solely on my dating life, and give everyone a break down. (Although I love a good play-by-play…and I know you guys do too!) I also try to never write about someone I am seeing, or see once and might like to see again. I leave the writing for after, the later, the “he’s never calling me back” light bulb above the head.

So, I guess here is the story update on  “Babyface”.

*Insert the ‘he’s not calling me back’ light bulb going off.  <ding>

I got a text message form “Babyface” Sunday morning, afternoon, late afternoon. I in my bed and he in his, exchanged texts about our drunken debaucheries, are meeting, and of course or desire to finally get out of bed and eat something.

He gives me an invite to join him for an early dinner. I text why not, as I’m throwing covers and clothes off me and jumping in the shower.

SIDEBAR: That’s a lie I wasn’t wearing clothes!

I’m running a few late (and had to drop off something at a friends first) I of course text him say so, he says no worries, he lives like 5 blocks from the place anyways.

I get there 3min. late (my bad) he’s there just starting his first beer.

We chitchat, drink, and eat some food, and drink some more. We then head to another bar for a happy hour, and drink more.

About my 4th beer in he turns to me and says,

“Are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous? (Laugh, throw back drink) why are you?!”

“You look nervous…You’re so cute”

And he leans in and kisses me.

Now we know how I feel about PDA and don’t get me started on PDA in a place where they serve food.

But (wait for it) I didn’t really mind.  Something about making out in the back booth of an empty bar didn’t bother me so much (it took the P out of the PDA) Maybe, this is why he kept saying I looked nervous.

So you can use your ever-exciting imaginations to imagine what happens next……and then on Tuesday I send him a quick text along the lines of :   Had a great time Sunday, let do it again soon.

Nothing……

Friday night I’m out with friends and a few sangria pitchers later I bring it up, that I never heard from him….not to bitch just bring it up as a fact of life.

And my amazing friend “C” turns to me and says he’s not interested in the best way I have ever heard someone say it.  He grabs his phone and starts pretending to text.

“You see me! You see! See what I’m doing.  Look! Look! It’s not that hard.  ‘ohh there’s a pretty girl on the other end, I need to text back like NOW’….oh she texted again, yeah, text back again…..”

He then closes his phone puts it down and says “He’s a stupid dick!”

“Did you see me, before texting, that’s to the girl I don’t even really like like, and I don’t even want to sleep with her…..you are amazing, anyone who doesn’t text you back asap is crazy!”

I love my friends sometimes…….well all the time!

So I get the most messages on OKCUPID. I get a lot of short, very basic, pretty much generic emails, or the ever not exciting “wink”

(Simone wrote a great post about “the wink” Read it!)

So I got this email today from some random guy, who said something interesting: “I probably wont get an email back from you cause youre listed as very selective in replying, but thought it was worth a shot. I think youre your profile is great and would love to know more.”

Selective? Am I that selective? Ok wait….I shouldn’t have put a question mark behind that; OF COURSE I’m selective!

I Will Not Respond To You If:

1- You are over the age of 38
2- You are not over the age of 26
3- Your user name contains the word: hot, sexy, or guy.
4- You are an actor (and pretend that is how you make your living)
5- I recognize you as being my friend’s doorman
6 – You have N/A listed in more then 3 of your basic stats (this excludes income…you do not have to list that in my book)
7- You have more then 1 picture with you and a group of ‘attractive’ girls.
8- You’re from Europe
9- You say you are looking for a girl who “takes care of themselves” Serious, dudes, do you think someone reads that looks down at the stains on their shirt and say “oh that’s not me, too bad.” JUST SAY you don’t like FAT girls. See #10
10- Your profile translates to DOUCHE-BAG!
11- I know just by looking at you that you aren’t funny
12- I know just by looking at you that I’m smarter then you
13- You have kids. (but thanks for being honest)
14- You have a picture of you reading a book. Come on, honestly what’s the last book you really did read?
15- You can’t mention anything we have in common from my profile, but insist we have stuff in “common”
16- You are Egyptian.
17- You say you are looking for someone who can carry on a conversation….again, do you think someone reads that and says, “nope, not me!”

SIDEBAR: That’s not that selective, is it?

(reason #___why I’m single: All the above?)