August 25, 2015 § Leave a comment
I’ve been a member of Facebook for 10 years, back when it was only college students in Boston. Two years after Facebook pushed it’s way through the Internet’s vagina, Twitter was born and grew into the more adored, naturally thin, slutty younger sister, who is still my frenemy. She really can fly off the handle, so much drama in 140 characters or less.
August 20, 2015 § Leave a comment
That’s when I found the common ground of what I had known as a girlfriend and the unknown of marriage. I have the same roommate as before, only now he’s never moving out.
There is both comfort and madness in that.
Sorry loyal readers and smarty snatches… subscribe button coming soon for the new website… I changed providers, skipped town for a bit, and having a learning curve.
August 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
August 5, 2015 § Leave a comment
New name, new website, new blog, new post, new wife. I call this “settling in” it’s a crunchy period.
And if you’re into it, check out the rest of my portfolio.
July 28, 2015 § 1 Comment
Actually, contrary to popular belief, being a wife feels no different than being a serious girlfriend who’s pre-engaged or a bestie who you text every day. What is with people asking you, “How’s married life?” as if you walked through a hallway of fairy dust and are now a frequent flyer to Neverland. I felt like I was letting people down by admitting that it felt the same as before the ring.
Perhaps its a gradual thing that I’ll grow into. Wifedom can’t happen in a day. However, I’ve had to abruptly trade in my Bachelorette Card, so this will be my last post as TIB. My new husband/old boyfriend doesn’t appreciate me flouncing around on the internet with the title of an uncommitted maiden. This is fair. Laws are binding. Mister Red, I concede.
Moments after putting on the veil, becoming officially bridal. No longer a Bachelorette.
Probably about time I grow up anyway. No–Wait, I was just kidding. You can find my same old schtick under a my new name. Starting next week, I’ll link posts to the new blog on this site as to ease the transition. As for right now…
Ode to The Bachelorette:
Dearest Darling of the singles crowd. You’ve hemmed and hawed over lovers unworthy. Your stilettos have pinched and blisters bled in the name of finding that special someone. Shuffling your Uggs behind a shopping cart filled with your bounty for a table of one. While considering options across genders out of spite, you feel alone but are not alone.
Bachelorettes across the world leave their refrigerators bare, balance fitness with Ben & Jerry’s, and collect at brunch on Saturdays. Pouring into greatly Yelped establishments with hangovers veiled by Ray Bans, over mimosas and bloodies you discuss the gritty statistics of this dating pool. Like excavators, piecing together the true meaning of a man’s intentions through slivers of behaviors, texts, online alliances, and one word answers to serious questions. What did he mean by, “text you later?”
As legend has it, one day when you least expect it, you’ll meet a man who meets most (not all, but most) of your criteria for a husband. You will deny it at first as together you have your firsts, but you’ll eventually settle in as lover, therapist, career advisor, caretaker, friend, financial analyst, maid, stylist, and chef. If this is a fairytale worth telling, he will reciprocate all titles back to you.
You will discuss lifelong desires, consider raising children, argue about just about everything, almost call it quits multiple times, accept each other’s faults, and then realize you would be miserable without one another. You will ride the roller coaster of life for a bit together, trying each other’s trials on for size. Setbacks and promotions get dealt with accordingly, this time as buddies, as partners. Finding someone to marry isn’t about compromise, it’s about collaboration. Time will go by and in this good time this man will provide his bachelorette with a shiny token of his love and a promise of marriage.
With this engagement to be wed, you will become the most heinous of all your variations. Family will intervene, your thoughts shine light on doubt, the planning of the day you had been looking forward to has become a nightmare of spread sheets, bootcamps, and floral arrangements.
The dust settles on the day of wed, as the bachelorette transforms into a bride. Then in a matter of moments that bride becomes a wife. Two very short words seal the deal and the bachelorette you once were, with all your freedom, carelessness, and vigor rides further away every time someone asks you when you plan to get pregnant.
Dear Bachelorette, this is a time in your life that you only have once. You cannot choose how long it will last. You may be sorry to see it go, or you might be happy it’s finally over. You may stay a wife, become a mother, or fancy yourself a divorcee. You could find yourself a widow or perhaps a cougar on the prowl, but you will never be able to be a bachelorette again.
So embrace the blind dates, one night stands, and tasteless pick up lines while you here. Then harness the freedom you have. Go for your big dreams and own them. Don’t settle for someone who doesn’t respect you or treat you how you want be treated. And always allow the cat calls to put a little pep in your step.
You look good, girl. Shine on with your bad self.
Cheers! Thanks for reading 5 years of my Bachelorette Antics. More to come as a wife.
July 21, 2015 § Leave a comment
Bridal resources tip-toe around these issues because planning your wedding “should” be a “joy” but most of it is rather unpleasant. Even if you swear up and down you’re not going to be that bride that experiences drama, or cares about the color of napkins. If you have a wedding, you’re going to have to deal with the horse shit that goes with it.
1. There will be things you just don’t give a fuck about, and they will haunt you.
You will have a list of things you could care less about. And it might be long. What color your bridesmaids shoes are, who gets a boutonnière, the angle in which the cake is displayed, what activities are available for children, what the DJ eats, etc, etc, on and on. It might not matter to you if they are roses or carnations on the tables as long as they are pink, and you only want to say it once. Unfortunately for you, you have to repeat every decision you make to everyone, like it was the mantra of a 4 week chanting water yoga retreat.
At one point you might lose your cool, only to be reminded by every single vendor you’ve hired that they do “A LOT of weddings.” No shit, Sherlock. I get it. It’s an industry. People be running a business. They might have more business if they could remember the menial details of their events so the client’s eyeballs don’t explode.
EX: I had stated from the first meeting with my venue, ivory table cloths/ivory napkins. Do I give a shit about the color of the linens? Not particularly, but none-the-less the choice was made. A choice which spawned a million other choices based on this choice. 6 months later, I’m still calling about an error, “Hi, yes, sorry, my contract STILL says we ordered white napkins, but they should be ivory.” Like I’m the dick that just HAS to have my linens be a slightly different color of a non-color.
2. This process will amplify your personality in ways never before imagined.
Are you a people pleaser? A sap? A Perfectionist? A Steamroller? Competitive? Shy? Spoiled? Anxious? Strong-willed? A push over? When the dress comes on, it all comes out.
Big or small, first or second, skeletons come out of the closet. Planning a high stakes, once-in-a-lifetime event really brings it out in people. Even if you try to be chill, at some point you are going to think to yourself “who the heck do I think I am?” You’re going to get mad, you’re going to yell, you’re going to cry over something. You’re going to go down certain rabbit holes.
EX: I didn’t dream about my wedding day all my life. Newsflash, not all girls do. I didn’t know the etiquette, I didn’t know the rules, I didn’t know there was so much to choose from. I had nothing planned out. However, I became fixated on the guest experience. And then, there I was, one week before editing the language of the ceremony to include more jokes. So many wedding jokes. There were jokes on the table numbers, the programs, the craft cocktails, we gave out whoopie cushions as favors, we had a Star Wars cake. AND THEN I got paranoid that everyone would think we weren’t taking our marriage seriously. Rabbit hole.
3. The only thing people will remember to ask you about is wedding planning.
“How’s wedding planning going?” As if you don’t eat food anymore or have a real job. It’s true that on the wedding timeline planning gets really intense, but then it’s the LAST thing you want to discuss with anyone.
EX: I was working on a TV show concept while planning my wedding. It was the best thing, and I was really excited about it. I don’t think anyone even knew I had a project. I would have blushed like a 5th grader crushing hard if someone actually asked me about it.
Additionally, for MONTHS after your wedding those same people who were asking about wedding planning will ask you “how’s married life” and you won’t know what to say to that either.
4. Your soon-to-be-husband will have little understanding of how much this sucks for you.
He’ll probably be all for helping with whatever needs to be done. Hell, he might actually have opinions about certain details. You might even give him key vendors to follow through with. He might take care of all of this with a wink and a smile, but down the line he’s going to wonder why you aren’t having the time of your life. After all, you’re the one who wanted this.
EX: Mister Red and I shared a lot of the load, and he’s amazing for getting the DJ, the officiant, and dealing with our cake vendor. But on our last visit to the venue, while wandering the desert looking for rocks for our guest book display, we had it out. Turns out we were mad at the same thing, neither one of us wanted to be dealing with any of it. And that was the most productive argument we’d had. Then we decided to treat ourselves to a dry run of the resort, you know for the guest experience.
5. You cannot wait for it to be over.
At first it’s a little bit exciting. That’s because it’s far away, you got time, spirits are high, and everything seems manageable.
There will be a moment between your bridal shower and your last dress fitting when you will want to snap someone’s pinky finger right off in the name of wedding planning. And you would probably be justified in doing so.
Details, details, details, and then you’ll want to shove some details up an ass or two. It’s a lot of work to put on an event for 60-200 people. It’s a lot of work to put on an event for 12.
EX: 3 days before my wedding and my venue refuses to change the rehearsal by a half hour. All I wanted was a half hour to accommodate my brother who was flying into town. This was not the first time I wanted to snap someones pinky right off that month, but it was the first time I admitted out loud to Mister Red how I really felt. “This has to work out between us because I am NEVER doing this again,” I said.
All of these issues are, of course, essential to your transformation into wifedom. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I’m still emerging from my bridal cocoon with a new last name. I have a couple more important documents to update and my dress is still at the cleaners (apparently, they get A LOT of wedding gowns this time of year, shocker).
After the wedding on our drive home I admitted another truth, “I’m so happy that it happened, but I’m so glad it’s over.” I maintain that feeling about it even now.
*Disclaimer: For those who elope, they must be smarter, wiser, and have better familial relations skills than me. This was probably not their experience.
July 14, 2015 § Leave a comment
Rerun from 11/14. Mister Red and I have recently been dabbling with switching our sides. I admit, I sleep better on my side. None-the-less, mattress to relationships, a great metaphor.
I used to not have a side of the bed. For a good portion of my life I just slept like an X in the middle, arms and legs akimbo, like I the finalist for a contest of how much space I could take up per body dimensions. I would have won, btw. When Mister Red and I began having adult sleepovers on a regular rotation neither of us stated claim to pillow top surface area. There were no real estate negotiations, we eased in to our respective sides naturally. Occasionally, we switch. Mostly to correct shoulder issues from poor sleeping patterns, but we always go back. It never feels right on the other side, and all my stuff lives on the nightstand to the right anyway. It’s too much work to commit to a change.
Growing up mostly an only child, not really touchy feely, or having sorority sisters, I hated sleeping next to people. Frankly, I needed my space. I remember my first visit to a college party. My dear friend let me pass out on the bed, while he slept on the floor. Sure he probably wanted to get in my pants that night, but took into account that I’d possibly punch him in my sleep. That and he knew how to play his gentleman card.
The only time I felt the sting of the cold side of the bed was when I parted ways with a long time boyfriend who wasn’t great at sharing anything. For the first week or so I couldn’t even sleep in the bed. I favored the couch and slept at a friend’s house. Eventually I went back to sleeping in the middle and loving it. Until, of course, Red came along.
We’ve been spooning for four years now, sometimes on the couch. It always seems like we’ve been together longer compared to my other relationships. It actually feels like forever. He knows too much about me and has become very adept at outsmarting me for my own good. The last four years have been so long. Father time must be slacking.
You know why it feels like we’ve been sharing a bed for forever? I actually like him. Those other fools I had slept next to with for two or three years at a time, I’ve blocked out whole months with them. Those relationships seem short because I don’t care to remember a lot about those relationships. Essentially, I’m burning those beds. If I can’t get anyone to buy the mattress on craigslist, I’m still moving on.
There is only so much room in my head. It’s like when your bedmate hogs the covers. My memory is like the covers, I’m choosing to cover only what is important, there isn’t enough blanket for the rest. I used to think it was a bad thing that my relationship with Red seemed unusually longer than it was. Now I realize it’s because I want a future with him. I’m snuggling up every detail of our time together in my blanket because it’s paramount in holding stock in our relationship. Not to mention, heat.
I’m not worried about our nuptials sentencing us as bedfellows for life. Of course he snores on his back, who doesn’t? Sure, he elbows me sometimes in his sleep but it’s never left a mark. I think we’ve been sharing a queen (a bed, not a dude from West Hollywood in stilettos), side by side for so long that the shock of marriage might be lost on me. I’ve already bought the mattress. I know I’m probably going to have to flip it every now and again, but it has a pretty solid warrantee.
I see a lot of women holding their wedding day up like it’s their last day to experience joy. Sure there is the whole child baring thing that factors into it, but if you play your cards right the wedding won’t be the last of your shenanigans before you’re preggo. There is no impending doom that comes after ‘I Do’ unless you haven’t been brutally honest with each other.
Whatever side you sleep on, know who you’re sleeping next too and love them even if they snore. Use your blanket to hold in the heat of your passion. Don’t try to cover lovers of the past, they can’t possibly fit in the blanket burrito of love.
Furthermore, relationships are full of cooperation, and yes even compromise. Do your share of bed making, and talk openly about bedtime habits. Apparently, 1 in 10 couples argue about about what side of the bed they sleep on. Really? This would be the worst excuse for a break up ever. Adapt.