Going To The Chapel

No, I am not engaged, but as it seems to happen in every young woman's life, almost every single one of my friends now is.

In fact, this past summer involved little else than me driving to different corners of the country to ring in a friend or family member's happily ever after. The crazy thing is that as much as I love weddings from the teary vows to the bouquet toss, I have realized that I am living and working to pay for everyone else's celebrations.

With seven weddings over the past few months I have learned that weddings don't come cheap. One friend's happy engagement usually means:

-an engagement party (nice bottle of vintage wine in hand)
-a stag and doe (raffle tickets and drinks)
-a bridal shower (something boring off the registry like cereal bowls)
-a bachelorette (an assortment of penis-related items, drinks galore)
-the big day (new outfit, hotel, gift)

SHEESH.

I suppose I may come across as bitter because I am not married yet, but I just can't wrap my head around the financial and time commitment an outsider has to make for each wedding. 

Who knows... maybe when it's my turn I will forget the frustration that I feel now and demand what every Bridezilla feels entitled too. In the meantime I have to hit up the mall to find a new dress for wedding number eight.

Pick Up Trick #5

Lady In Red

A few weeks ago I was invited to a university reunion and I obviously wanted to look my best. I picked out a fifties style high-waisted navy dress with a red frilly top. I curled my hair, did my makeup, and as a last minute decision I threw on some fire engine red lipstick.

I cannot tell you how much positive feedback I got from girls and guys alike. I guess the whole ensemble made me look like a pin up girl and it was turning heads.

A couple guys actually noted, "I like how your lips match your dress."  Or from some of the less articulate, simply, "Red... that's hot." Classy or not, I'll take the compliment.

So, for the rest of the summer I am keeping that ensemble and lipstick as my go-to feel good outfit. And if you are needing a night to stand out, try being the lady in red for size.

The Ex Factor

The other night I awoke from an incredibly vivid dream where I drove across the country to my ex (and first love's) house, professed my undying love in a very Julia Roberts film kind of way, he called off his engagement, and we went off skydiving to celebrate and live happily ever after.


As I lay in the dark, in a sleepy haze, I thought, "Yes. That makes perfect sense. I'll go tomorrow."


Luckily, come morning, my senses had returned and I realized that it would be insane to ever act on such a dream, especially when we broke up close to seven years ago. So what was my problem then? How was my ex still sneaking his way into my dreams nearly a decade after we split?


I decided that the dreaded "ex factor" means that the first true love you have, will never really leave you. It will always hold a very special piece of your heart. There is something so pure and honest and completely unjaded about the first time you allow yourself to fall for someone... it can never really be duplicated. Sure, you can love again, but it's a different kind of love.


As I thought about my wild dream, I realized that my ex's recent engagement clearly rattled me more than I gave it credit for. But, instead of driving to him in a Hollywood fashion, I took off to my cottage for some quality reflection time. During the car ride I realized that I didn't really want my ex back - rather I wanted the idea of what our relationship represented.


And then, I had a horrible realization. If I died tomorrow, my ex would go down as my one great love thus far. But I am no longer his great love... he has found something greater than what we shared. As I processed this depressing thought, Adele's "Someone Like You" came onto the radio (I kid you not... God sure has a funny sense of humour). I began ugly crying while crooning along to Adele's lonely lyrics. [Warning: I do not suggest doing this while driving. I almost ran over an unsuspecting rabbit]


Anyway, post-blubber session, I remembered the gazillion reasons why my ex and I split and I felt much better knowing that I did not have to spend a lifetime dealing with our problems.


The dreaded ex factor is fun for no one- but I have decided to leave the dramatic cross-country pursuit and love confession to the romantic comedies for the time being. Something tells me that there would be no happy ending for this love story.


Attached: an amazing Saturday Night Live skit on the power of Adele's melancholy melody:


http://perezhilton.com/tv/SNL_Emma_Stone_Plays_With_Adeles_Someone_Like_You_/?id=3237b7dac57fc&autoplay=false

The Cock Block

Last week, I went to my friend's house for a summer backyard BBQ and was taken aback by the most incredibly handsome Russian guy. Dressed casual but classy, with a killer smile, and tons of swagger. I had to get to know this man.

So, as casually as I could, I began mingling, trying to find a nice segue into conversation with him. When my friend hosting the party asked if I could make rounds with some cupcakes, I was delighted. Time to make my move. 

With my baking buffer I was able to introduce myself, learn his hot name that I could not pronounce, and then, right when I was about to dive into a real conversation with him... his dorky buddy cut in and took over. No matter how many times I tried to get a word in with the hot Russian, the pudgy sidekick would not relent. Eventually, the Russian who was now entirely left out of the conversation, wandered off.

And since I didn't have the heart to tell Mr. Cock Block that I was after his hot friend, I ended up spending the entire evening chatting with him instead. He told me he thought I was "something" and that we should grab a coffee sometime. I thought of asking if his handsome friend might join.

So, at the end of the evening I found my Facebook friend list moving up by one, with a pending request by a guy I would only ever see as the most annoying cock block.

Now & Then

I recently bumped into an elementary school friend, and after an evening of catching up, we ended up back at his place. The night did not go how he hoped, I'm sure, as I somehow reverted back into the awkward, shy, blushing school girl that he once knew over a decade ago. And because I could not shake my former innocent self, the night ended at first base: the make out.


That night has made me think about our generation's tendency to rush ahead physically. Having sex on a first or second date seems to be the norm these days, and lost in its wake is the underrated, totally hot make out. There is something so much sexier than sex when you both want more, but hold back... just a little.


Maybe I am just old-fashioned. Maybe the whole one night stand has just lost its appeal to me. But when I heard The Beatles "I Want To Hold Your Hand" playing on the radio the other day, I couldn't help but wish I had been born in a previous, more innocent era. Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man. And please say to me, you'll let me hold your hand. 


Instead, on a dated rap CD of mine, I found "What's Your Fantasy" by Ludicrous, which seemed to sum up our generation's idea of romance nicely. I want to l-l-l-lick you from your head to your toes, and I want to move from the bed d-d-down to the floor...


Ahh, there you have it- romance at its best. So maybe I am too late and that innocence is lost on our generation. But, I can assure you: I'm bringing the make out back.


And so I ask you all... Which do you prefer? 


Now:

OR... Then: 

Matchmaker

One of the most tiring, but often amusing things a single person must endure is the "set up". Everybody in your life wants claim to a speech on your wedding night saying, "I just knew that they were right for each other." Everybody wants to play matchmaker.


Throughout my single life I have prided myself for embracing these set up's with an open mind from family, friends, family friends, and so on. But, my most recent challenge has been my 86 year old Nana's matchmaking, which has cranked up to full throttle. I think she has promised herself that she will not leave this earth until she sees me walk down the aisle. Nana is on a husband hunt for yours truly.


The first date she set up for me was with a young handsome man who she saw in church. She literally went up to this stranger, whipped out my photo from her wallet and shoved it in his face. "You must go on a date with her. She's gorgeous! A super model!" (Gotta love the ego boost from grandparents- I am by no means a supermodel). Well who can turn down a little old granny, in the house of God, no less? We went on the date, but much to Nana's chagrin, it did not work out.

So, as of recent, Nana has been trying to play matchmaker a tad more aggressively. At restaurants she will literally thrust me with great force upon any "handsome young lad". Unfortunately, a young lad can range anywhere from 15-65. It's all perspective, right?


Now, last weekend while I mingled around my cousin's wedding reception, I saw my Nana flailing and waving towards me as she spoke to a middle-age, Asian man, wearing a wedding ring. Apparently, neither the age or marital status were a problem in my Nana's eyes. He was very successful.  


"Your grandmother tells me that you're looking for a Harley?" the man asked me, confused.


I laughed and shook my head. "A hottie is probably what she said. I'm looking for a hottie." I smiled apologetically and walked away, downing my champagne. 


But, I've got to give Nana credit for persistence. Truthfully, with the amount of gusto she's putting into the matchmaking task, she will likely end up successful. I just hope, for everyone's sake, she finds me that hottie... and fast.

It's Raining Men

So, since my recent Jekyll & Hyde experience, which left me completely fed up with the male species as a whole, I have found insight into one overused expression. The whole "You'll find someone when you're not looking" is entirely true.


The problem for me is that instead of finding someone, I have been the recent pursuit of a few men. Okay, that's being modest. More like a LOT of men.

I was honestly having trouble pinpointing what had changed in my life. It felt as though someone had cast a spell on me, making me irresistible to any man I encountered. It started with the men closest to me in my life... male friends, colleagues, family friends, etc. But since then it has exploded to men I am meeting in random places, including me sitting in the park yesterday reading a book. Seriously, who approaches a girl who is alone with her nose stuck in a book?


It wasn't until today that I realized that there must be some correlation between my complete disinterest in dating and the surplus of eligible men at my doorstep. There is just no other logical explanation.


My friends have been telling me, "When it rains it pours." Okay, so apparently I am currently caught in a man monsoon. Not that I am complaining. After several months of being in a drought, I am not one to shy away from a little male attention. But I am beginning to think that I may be out of my depth here. I don't really know how to casually and confidently date two, three, four men at the same time. 


But, since another drought is sure to arise with the summer heat, for now I will thank my lucky stars that whatever nonchalant vibe I'm exuding is working in my favour. The song doesn't lie... "It's raining men, hallelujah! It's raining men, AMEN!"