Seeing as how I'm on summer vacation, I'm going to actually not work, and by work I mean write a blog. Sorry! Technically it's a bachelorette party, but I have so many to attend each summer, I just write them off as what I get to constitute as summer vacation. It's my favorite thing about my friends getting married, as they result in vacations with the girls.
For our last bachelorette party over Memorial Day weekend, we had an ugly bridesmaid dress slash 80s prom. See:
No, I did not steal that from awkwardfamilyphotos.com that is my real awkward family photo. Because that's what those girls are, my family. And every time one of them gets married, I get another brother and the family gets bigger. I'll hand it to them they've known me my entire life, know everything about me, and still like me.
Remember when my intern signed me up for Match.com ... and then proceeded to browse online dates for me, finding me a "Situation" and a guy like Alan from Hangover. Well, payback is a bitch. Recently single, I gave Jordan a work assignment to fill out her own little dating questionnaire, just like she did for me on Match. With this one being a little less conventional.
But what she doesn't know is that I had her make it so I could post it on here and pimp her out.
Then, I'm going to make her go out with every guy who responds to this classified ad. (Except the ones that seem like they might be serial killers.)
Send all inquiries to email@example.com.
Now it's my turn to play matchmaker and pay her back. The favor that is *wink.*
So everybody, meet Jordan ... my single intern.
And find her dating profile below. Muahahahaha.
I'm sure I can speak for all the single ladies when I say that we don't want boyfriends. Because we don't want a boy ... we want a man. So why don't they call them manfriends?
Sure, boyfriends can mature into husbands, but we want a man from the get-go in a relationship, without having to marry him. But calling a guy a husband doesn't necessarily make him a man either it's his actions and integrity that do that.
Women want a real man to protect us not a little boy we have to raise and take the cookie away from when they've been bad.
A boyfriend is what you have in high school. A manfriend is someone who knows how to treat a lady and make her feel like a woman not a girl. For example, he's someone who knows how to conduct himself in public with his woman, and understands the difference between being protective and overprotective. A manfriend will provide for a woman however he can, be it help her fix her car so the mechanic doesn't take advantage of her. Or take the car to the mechanic himself. A manfriend is just that a man. And a friend.
And men-friends, we'll be real women, not girls, for you.
Although, anyone who believes in The Bronx Tale's test theory, in which a real woman is one who, after you open her door for her, will reach over and unlock the door for you. Since the invention of automatic locks, we can't exactly pass the test.
Boys 2 Men ... ABC, BBD.
"There are no good men left."
That's a statement I'm hearing come out of women's mouths a lot lately. In fact, too much.
Well, I hate to break it to you, ladies, but that's just a lie you're telling yourself to justify your single status.
Truth be told, good men aren't as rare as a unicorn. They're not mythical creatures that only live in a far away land. They do exist! Perhaps just not on your radar.
Have you ever stopped to wonder why other women are finding them, and you're not?
Maybe because you're not giving them a chance. You're skipping over genuinely good guys the men truly worth marrying because in your mind, they check the wrong box on their government forms.
Admit it. Most women have a "type" (aka "list"): Tall, handsome, successful, funny, well-groomed, educated, worldly, good with kids, must love dogs, went to a good school, has a good job, etc., etc., ultimately, he looks good on and off paper. Not to mention he typically fits within a certain socio-economic and cultural clique. I know women with lists so long, they'll have to build a robot to find their ideal Mr. Right.
Having standards is good.
Having a list of demands that you yourself can't meet is bad.
Floral bouquets have filler flowers, radio shows have filler music, newspapers have filler ads and in some cases, women have filler men and men have filler women.
Fillers exist to add a little something in order to cover or mask a bare area. Men serve that purpose for women who have yet to settle down, the itch to, but refuse to settle. And women serve that purpose for men who want a woman's touch, but without keeping his hands full.
Because what's the point of making a commitment to someone unless you see a future with them? But then again, what's the point of filling your time with a carnation and not leaving space for a rose?
Instant gratification isn't always the most gratifying.
Whether you need someone to keep your feet warm at night or hook up your new flat screen to your X-Box Kinect, the filler can fill whatever void the single person has.
Its a lackadaisical relationship one for which you can make an option rather than a priority.
But they're about as pointless as carnations and background noise. Why not fill your time with people that will affect your future? Oh, I don't know, like YOURSELF! Call me crazy, but I'd much rather be alone doing things that will enhance my future than waste my time with some filler guy who I can't see having a future with.
Besides, you don't want to be too busy with Mr. Right Now when Mr. Right comes along, do you? Do you want to be filled with love, or just fill the void?
You are enough to fill your bouquet. And if it is full of carnations, pick the weeds and make room for a rose.
How do you tell the difference? That is the question.
Knights and princes come in disguise these days. There's no white horse nor shining armor. But have no doubt, we all have one in store for us. Problem is, we're spending too much time kissing frogs and letting the douchebags conquer. So how do you tell the difference between the frog and the prince, and your knight in shining armor and the douchebag in tin foil?
Does he ask you to lunch or to get drinks?
Does he help you fix your car, or not even offer to give you ride to shop?
Does he introduce you to his friends or does he blow you off for them?
Does he want to meet your friends or has he already tried to sleep with them?
Does he ask you what your plans are for the future or just later that night?
Does he text or does he actually call to correspond with you?
Does he care about your dreams or does he just want to sleep with you, before you drift off to dream?
Come to think of it ... it's really not that hard to tell the difference if you judge by his actions.
Lent starts tomorrow I vote all the single ladies (aka princesses) give up frogs and douchebags in tin foil.
On Saturday, my former intern Saint Sarah tied the knot to her college sweetheart. There's something about watching your intern get married that feels as joyful as watching your daughter get married, but also as depressing as burying her. And not because of the "weddings are like funerals" analogy Brotha Fred and I made in our duet column, but because she's so much younger than me. It makes me feel like I'm starting a downward spiral to spinster. Like I should start wearing a fanny pack and get a cat, even though I don't like them.
She sent me an invitation with a personal message attached: "I know you hate weddings, but it would mean the world to me if you came to mine."
How can I RSVP no to that?
Turns out, it might have been the best wedding I've ever been to. A small, low-key, quick ceremony at the Ballantyne Country Club. A woman as the Best Man, and a Man of Honor versus a Maid. Macaroni and cheese balls and Scottish egg appetizers. Cupcakes instead of a wedding cake, and a groom cake in the shape of an X-Box. A DJ that gave everyone straw hats and sunglasses to do a conga line. Nothing was traditional about her wedding, other than traditions that are dear to her and her husband.
I always told Sarah to march to the beat of her own drum. And I couldn't be prouder of her for marching to the beat of her heart as well.
It wasn't a big production that would turn my sweet Saint Sarah into a bridezilla. It was a beautiful, intimate celebration of two people venturing into the real world together. They even had cocktail napkins explaining how they came to date ... he accidentally hit her with a car. Now that's a surefire way to get someone's attention!
That day I learned something from my intern. She taught me what I had forgotten about relationships. And she restored my faith in marriage by having a wedding that was about the marriage ... not the wedding.
So when planning a wedding, perhaps we should only pay attention to the details that matter, like our marriage. The wedding lasts a night, and the marriage lasts a lifetime (at least, that's the plan).
I am flypaper for freaks Why cant I get a good guy? Only assholes are attracted to me
Those are the sentiments that tend to be discussed at most girls' night.
Ive spent most of my life wondering why I cant seem to find a good guy, and I think I finally figured it out: because like attracts like. Its the law of attraction literally.
You get back what you put out. So that means if youre only attracting assholes, then either thats what you want (and youre a masochist) or thats what you are, thus thats what you get.
The last guy I dated (whatever dating means) was a lot like me. We got each other and understood one anothers hectic lifestyles and off-the-wall sense of humor. I thought that was a good thing. Boy was I wrong.
Like Tucker Max said in his book Assholes Finish First, Show me a genuinely funny person without emotional issues and Ill introduce to you my stable of unicorn thoroughbreds ridden by leprechaun jockeys.
He has a point.
People tend to use humor to help them carry their emotional baggage being funny to mask and over-compensate their true feelings.
But his emotional baggage, though designer and easy to carry, was still baggage, and in turn he lied like a Persian rug on a rich mans floor, to hide his truth not only from me, but from himself. After I peeled off the first layer of his façade, I saw him for who he was an asshole.
Shit, does this mean Im an asshole, too? Like does attract like, after all.
I realized that I have in fact treated guys the way he treated me, like an option versus a priority. I've taken advantage of and lied to guys before, even cheated on one. And so I had made my bed and I was lying in it alone.
Karma is a bitch, and apparently so am I.
So if you want a good person who is going to treat you right, you have to be that good person. Not just to the person youre with, but everyone.
Dont lie to people and you wont be lied to. Dont use people and you wont be used. Dont deceive and you wont have to dance with deception. Dont cheat and you wont be cheated. Dont hate and you will have love. Simple as that.
Follow the golden rule and treat people the way you want to be treated, and youll be golden!
I was having dinner one evening at my married friends house where the entertainment was listening to them argue.
Wife: YOU DIDNT FEED THE DOG! Youre so worthless! I went and got dinner for us and you cant even remember to feed the dog!
Husband: Im so sorry, I forgot. Ill do it.
Wife: I have to do everything around here (bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch)
And from there, the argument escalated, until I slyly interjected, Ill feed the damn dog!
Ive often noticed that some of my girlfriends treat their men in a way that they would never treat me: like a bitch-er. They bitch about the most insignificant things, such as taking out the trash or hoarding the remote basically that his head isnt inserted far enough up her ass. What I really want to say is: You have a man who loves you, and comes home to you every nigh. Who cares if he wanted to feed himself before the dog. By the time you sat there and bitched at him for it, you could have fed the dog yourself!
Perhaps Im just jaded from being cheated on and lied to so much that I dont really see chores as a relationship offense punishable by bitching. Like a survivor of a heart-attack, I dont take anything for granted, especially not a man whos loyal.
I wouldnt care if he pees all over the toilet seat, never washes one dish, and farts in his sleep, as long as he doesnt cheat on me everything else is compromisable. So here are a few things women should definitely not bitch about
1. The toilet seat. Men dont complain about us leaving it down, so therefore, we dont have the right to complain about them leaving it up.
2. Guy time. Just like you need your folic acid and calcium, he needs his dose of testosterone and if you trust him (which you should if youre with him), then why wouldnt you want some space to hang out with your girlfriends or yourself? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so let him miss you for a few hours. And who cares if he comes home drunk, as long as he comes home to you (and didnt drive to get there).
3. What he wears. How he dresses is how he is. You try to change a man and hes going to change girlfriends. Imagine if he told you that dress made you look fat; same thing.
4. Money. ?If you complain about him not making enough money, well, then why dont you just cut his balls off while youre at it. Men often feel like they need to be the provider in the relationship. As long as hes providing you with love and loyalty, dont complain about whats in his wallet.
Remember, he is a guy after all. So we should try and limit our bitchiness to once a month when were menstruating. Were at least entitled to it then.
Last week I threw a holiday dinner party that wouldve made a Johnson & Wales professor proud or at least the deli person at Harris Teeter. So what if I served everyone on little kid zoo paper plates? They were on sale at Target.
As we sat there eating the brie ball, fruit pizza, and dates wrapped in turkey bacon washed down by skinny margaritas (which is pretty much the extent of my domestic repertoire), we realized that all nine of us girls were single.
Every. Single. One. Of. Us.
Where was everyone else I invited? Most of the other girls declined because they were cooking dinner too, for two, with their beaus. While they were all coupled up, we were singled out that, or they just couldnt find a babysitter.
And this is becoming a pattern Ive noticed all too common.
As I sit here now, drinking my boxed White Sangria that was also on sale at Target in bed, alone, with a computer hoisted on my lap, I cant help but wonder if that feeling of loneliness that comes from being single isnt so much not having one special person, but not having as many girlfriends around anymore.
In the He Said, She Said column I wrote with Brotha Fred a while ago, we discussed how weddings are like funerals for friendships. Cason-point: I rarely get to see my married, or practically married, friends anymore and when I do, it usually surrounds another friends wedding. And there Im usually truncated to the singles table, or the kids table.
Where exactly is the division between singles and married?
It doesnt just put you in a different tax bracket, but a different stage of life. Because as the circle of life turns, and you stand still, your friends cycle out around you.
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