A Dear John letter to 2009

Dear 2009 Dating Life,

It's not you, it's me.

Actually, check that.

It is you. What a crappy year you've been to me.

You were all about you, weren't you? First you brought me some major dating (and blog) dramz; then a boy who is pretty much everything I look for in a guy -- but who lives out of town; then a guy who couldn't form a sentence and one who couldn't form a memory; and just a general lack of activity on the dating front.

So, it's over. I don't want to hear from you again. Or see you again. Don't bother sending me letters or flowers or calling to try to win me back like some other ex-BFs have done.

I'm moving on to bigger and better. His name is 2010. And no matter what he's like, he'll never treat me as badly as you did.

So, see ya, 2009. And good riddance.

From here on out, it's all about 2010: The Year of Good Men.

xoxo (but not really) --

Always a Bridesmaid

P.S. I'm not really a bitter SOB, readers. You know that. I'm just REALLY looking forward to getting this year behind me. Thanks for coming along for the ride... and for keeping me sane in the process. Smooches to you! I hope we don't break up too. :) Happy new year!

No hottie under the tree...

... but I did get a pretty rocking set of new pots and pans.

(Since I've never had a wedding shower, I was in dire need of new cookware. The cheap stuff I had for my first apartment -- circa 1998 -- just wasn't cutting it anymore.)

Here's hoping the new Calphalon is an indication that my love life will start cookin' in 2010 too. :)

Was Santa good to you?

Working on my letter to St. Nick

Remember last year how blogmom and blogdad discovered that St. Nicholas is actually the patron saint of single women?

Well, apparently jolly old St. Nicholas isn't happy with telepathic requests. Guess he actually wants me to write an honest-to-goodness letter to Santa before he brings me my Prince Charming.

So, no bullshitting. I'm totes writing a letter to St. Nick this year and tucking it away in a safe place. Then I'm gonna pull it out next Christmas to see if he brought me something (or someone) that matches what's on my list.

Help me get started. What should I make sure I don't forget? I only have a few days to get this right...

Why Being Single at the Holidays Ain't a Bowl of Cherries

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about how being single at the holidays ain't all that bad.

Then I promised to write a follow-up about how it ain't so great, either.

But you know what? I'm not going to.

Because I'm already sorta quasi-depressed over being single YET AGAIN at the holidays. And if I write a post about it, it may just throw me over the edge into total Scroogedom.

Instead, I think I may just order myself one of these and hope it brings me a little elf of my own this Christmas. Eff you, Scrooge. (Actually, Scrooge McDuck.) I don't need your bad attitude rubbing off on me this year.

"This kid is really moving mountains!"

(Note: Above was an actual quote out of my sissy's mouth last nite.)

I've written here before about how blogmom is like a Cyber McGyver. Well, apparently the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

After telling my sissies about a boy who I was chatting with following the Browns' victory last week (shocking!), my middle sis was obsessed with finding out more about him.

(BTW, when I said "shocking," I was referring to both the Browns' win as well as the fact that a cute boy would actually talk to me while I was so bundled up for the game that I looked like the stay-puff marshmallow man.)

Anyhow, the only things I knew about him were:

• his first name


• what he did for a living (vaguely)


• that he was a good kisser (OK, so *maybe* I smooched him a little to celebrate the win -- so sue me!)

But, literally. That was ALL I KNEW. But within five minutes of cyberstalking (as I was in the other room holding my sweet little nugget nephew and watching The Sing Off), my sis had found him online. (And not by Googling "random boy who smooched my sis after the Browns game.")

I think sissy might really have a potential career in pre-screening guys for single girls. (Myself included.) Within mere minutes, she found:

• his last name


• where he works (which is when she said the quote that appears as the title of this post and told me he was gonna make a lot of money someday)


• pictures of him (to which she suggested he might want to consider teeth whitening and never growing a beard again)


• his profiles on social networks


• several articles he was featured in

I couldn't help but giggle at her research prowess. I mean, seriously. She only had his first name (which is very common) and a general idea of what he did for a living (which is admittedly less common -- but still) to go on. And she was soooooooooo excited when she found him.

(In fact, she was so excited that I didn't have the heart to tell her right away that I had his phone number and that we'd actually already talked.)

So it appears that sissy may have a potential new career... and that I may have a potential new target for Holidating!

P.S. Don't worry, blogdad. The Browns were the only ones who scored that nite. ;)

Another pseudo break-up

Remember when I broke up with my hairdresser several months ago?

I had another breakup this weekend. But this time I was the dumpee.

My manicurist left me. For that "other woman" known as college.

When we were saying goodbye, Anth gave me a big bear hug and said he'd miss me and would let me know when he's back in town. And I almost started crying.

(And it wasn't just because my jeans are all currently so tight that they're literally making me want to cry.)

In retrospect, I think the welling up was because Anthony has been the most consistent man in my life for the past several years.

(Is that sad or sweet? I still haven't decided.)

Every week when I'd see Anthony, he was excited to see me. He'd call me pet names. Tell me how pretty I looked. Compliment a new sweater. Ask about my family and friends. Write "I heart U” in lotion.

(And, no, I did not pay extra for that.)

But now he's gone. So I'm hoping the cosmos decides to do its thing and replace the one consistent guy in my life with another (but this time, one in the form of a boyfriend).

Are you listening, cosmos? I need a new guy in my life. Cuz mama's got really pretty hands just waiting to show off a ring someday soon.

Six degrees: take 3 (this week)

While out to lunch with a colleague this week, I ran into HGE.

(Living up to his name as Hottest Guy Ever, BTW.)

This whole six degrees thing is just getting a little ridic now, no? Is the universe trying to send me a message?

(I sure hope it's something like, "AAB, there's a hottie in your future!")

P.S. As it turns out, I knew one of the girls who was lunching with HGE. She called me this morning to find out if I knew what his story was because she and her friend couldn't figure out if he liked boys or girls. See?!?! It's not just me.

I TOLD you I'm not making this stuff up

My last post was about how small Cleveland is. And that it feels like it's only two or three degrees of separation between me and every eligible guy in the city.

That theory was proven again this week.

I was facilitating a meeting for a client. It was a session that included 10 employees out of the thousands employed by the company.

Of those thousands that were whittled down to 10, there was one guy scheduled to be in the meeting. I saw his name on the attendee list prior to the session and remarked to my colleague that I had gone on a date with a guy with that name years ago, and how random it would be if it were the same guy. But then I pointed out that the name was common enough that it probably wasn't the same guy.

The meeting started, and there was no guy to be seen. Phew. In the clear. But about five minutes later, the door opened and a very apologetic guy walked in late.

A very apologetic guy who I had gone on a date with.

Seriously. FML.

Do you believe me now about this whole six degrees of separation thing? What are the chances that the one guy -- out of the thousands who work there -- would be someone I had gone on a date with?

I really think I may need to move.

P.S. And, yes, I still have his number in my phone.

It's a small world after all

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Cleveland really is six degrees of separation. Case in point: I was at a holiday party this weekend and saw:

• A guy I went on one date with (I actually wrote about him here)


• A guy who was in the Sexy Singles article in Cleveland Magazine with me (of course, he's now married and I'm still a questionably sexy single)


• My boss' son (nothing romantic there -- just thought it was weird to see him)

I'm really starting to think I am like two or three degrees away from every person in Cleveland. Which I suppose also means I *may* be only two or three degrees away from all of the cute, eligible, single guys in Cleveland too.

Which also means that YOU probably know one of them. Ahem. What are you waiting for? Wouldn't a little finders' fee help with your holiday shopping right about now? Just sayin'.

I mean, it is time for some Holidating. (P.S. Thanks to everyone who contributed suggestions and/or voted to name this month's dating adventures!) Dontcha wanna put a little something under my tree?

An apple a day

Earlier this week, I got one of those mass text forwards that we've all come to love/hate. I usually curse the friends who send me those things because I'm superstitious that I will, indeed, lose an arm or never find love or whatever horrible thing they tell you will happen if you break the chain.

But in this case, I couldn't curse the friend who sent it because, well, it was from someone whose number I didn't have in my phone. (Sidebar: I did lose a bunch of numbers earlier this year during Blackberrygate '09, so I'm assuming I do know the sender. Unlike when I got this text.)

Anyhow, the message was just what this girl needed after a crappy day at work (and a crappy year in dating). Here's what it said:

Women are like the apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones, because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead they get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them when in reality they are amazing! They have to wait for the right guy to come along. The one who is brave enough to climb to the top of the tree!

The text then went on to tell me to forward it to 10 phenomenal women in my address book. But I figured I'd one up by posting it here instead. (Man, I hope more than 10 of you stop by today!)

So, if you're still single, never fear. The harvest is coming!

And if you're taken, congrats on finding your Johnny Appleseed.

And to whoever the anonymous sender of that text was in the first place... thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. You're a really good apple. :)

Why Being Single at the Holidays Doesn’t Totally Suck

• There's no pressure to find that perfect gift for my special someone. In the past, I would spend weeks (sometimes months) searching for juuuuuust the right present for my BF, only to be disappointed with an effing gift card for a day spa or -- even worse -- the free wallet that came with the purse that he bought for his mother. (Actually happened.)


• There's no need to worry about those extra lbs. I've already packed on from all the holiday goodies around my office, since my cats and relatives don't mind if I'm a little doughy right now (but a BF probably would).


• I don't have to hear, "Sooooooo... do you think you'll be getting a little box under the tree this year?" from EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I. KNOW.


• There's no obligation to bust out horrific memories of holidays past. One year for Christmas, I got an effing Precious Moments necklace from The Mush Mouth. I lovingly referred to it as "The Medallion." It was a sterling silver heart -- yes, HEART -- with two little Precious Moments figures facing each other inside of it. It was literally the size of a hood ornament. And it was heinous. (In this case, I would have welcomed a gift card.) I felt obligated to pull it out each Christmas (though I never actually wore it), but after we broke up, I used to take it out with me to the bar and use it on my beer bottles like one of those little wine charms. Except it wasn't so little.


• I can decide where I want to go, and when. I don't have to split holidays between families, or traipse around all over Northeast Ohio without sitting down in one place for more than a couple of hours. Which means I can plant my (now pleasantly plump) ass down at my parents' house and get hammered. I mean, "holiday toasty."


• There's also no pressure to buy thoughtful presents for the BF's family. I mean, I don't think I could have found another bird broach for The Murse's grandma if I tried. I must have bought out the entire stock at Macy's every year.


• And let's not talk about the pressure to fake liking the presents that you got from his family. I mean, who doesn't need a holiday sweatshirt -- complete with puffy paint -- to round out her wardrobe? (I wish I were kidding. Actual Christmas present. Though still not as bad as the free wallet.)


• If you're only kinda sorta and/or newly dating someone (and not in a long-term relationship), there's also no pressure to have that awkward, "Are we exchanging gifts?" or "What's our spending limit?" conversation. Ugh. Those are so awwwww-kward!


• I don't have to stress about how/if he fits into my family's gatherings. Let's be honest: blogfamily can be a bit overwhelming at times. Between blogdad telling dirty jokes, blogmom having minor meltdowns if something goes wrong in the kitchen, fights with sissies over board games and Brissy yelling, "Merry Jizzmas!!" every two seconds, it takes a special kinda guy to feel comfortable around the AAB clan.

Now don't get me wrong. There are down sides to being single too, which I'll explore in a future post. (I'm sure I'll want to hang myself after I write that one.)

But for now... what are your favorite reasons to be single at the holidays?

P.S. Thanks to all of you who suggested names for this month's dating adventures. (You sick bastards, you.) Please be sure to vote for your fave in the poll on the top left of the page!

A confession

OK, so I admit it.

I haven't done one of the things I was supposed to do in YESvember.

You know, that thing you guys all voted on.

I've been putting it off. (And dreading it, really.) And then I realized today is the last day of the month.

Crap.

But I have PMS. I am totes in Crabville, USA today. Population: Me.

So it's gonna have to wait. Because I'm pretty sure the profile I'd write right about now would only attract serial killers, EMO-sensitive types or just generally creepy creepertons. So, bear with me. Pleaseandthankyou.

In the meantime... it's time to name December's dating adventures!! Whaddya got for me?

Another white gown (and it's still not mine)

As of tomorrow, I will officially be a godmother.

Which means yet again I will be playing a supporting role in a church ceremony and STILL NOT BE THE ONE WEARING THE LONG WHITE GOWN.

Eff.

Well, happy baptism anyhow, blognephew! Love you to pieces!

xoxo -

Auntie AAB

Pass the stuffing...

... but, please, NO MORE TURKEYS.

(Is this deja vu? I swear I wrote the same post last year. Oh, wait. I did.)

At least I do have some wonderful things to be thankful for this year. (Can you say blognephew?!?!)

(Oh, and I'm very thankful for Spanx, too.)

Many blessings to you and yours! Have a great holiday!

Noddin' my head like yeah (or no?)

Back in September, I took my friend from work out to celebrate her birthday. While we were out, I pointed out to her THE. HOTTEST. GUY. I. HAVE. EVER. SEEN. IN. REAL. LIFE.

(For realz, peeps. Salt and pepper hair. Beaming blue eyes. Dimples. Hot bod. And a smile that would make even a dentist melt.)

As the nite went on, I could not stop talking about this guy. But he was soooo cute, even I -- who can carry on a 20-minute conversation with a cocktail napkin -- was too timid to strike up a convo.

Later in the nite, I came back from the bathroom to find my friend chatting with HGE (Hottest Guy Ever). As I approached, she turned to me, introduced us and mouthed to me, "You're welcome." (Even though I initially was pissed because I thought she was trying to steal him for herself.)

We hung out for the rest of the nite. As it turned out, his job is very closely tied to what my friend and I do, so we exchanged business cards. (My signature move.)

(Sidenote: on the way home, my friend and I had a 20-minute conversation about whether he was gay. Super good looking. Charming. Funny. And he danced. And was good at it.)

HGE and I emailed occasionally after that (mostly work-related). But in one of my emails, I mentioned that I was going later that nite to the place where we met.

I had forgotten about that email until I got a text later that nite from an unknown number that simply said, "How's South Side?"

At first I thought it might have been one of my psycho text stalkers from the past. But it turned out to be HGE.

I may or may not have peed a little with excitement.

So HGE and I made the move from emailing to texting. He said he was out with clients, but would rather be at South Side. Interesting. Though until he put his money where his heart-shaped mouth was, I wasn't buying it.

We hadn't emailed or texted in quite some time after that. Fast forward to this past weekend, when HGE texted to tell me that he had just landed in Chicago and that I should come meet him.

Wickywhaaat?!?! Seriously. What is up with this guy?

(Other than being incredibly gorgeous. And funny. And possibly gay.)

We exchanged a series of texts (most of which were much flirtier than any others).

And then the text that ended all texting happened.

I said something about being embarrassed that I was dancing to Miley Cyrus. To which he responded, "I like her too."

Aaaaaaand... that is when all questioning was confirmed. When HGE went from being Hottest Guy Ever to Hottest Gay Ever in my little black(berry) book.

Or do you think he's just a perverted older man? Please, please tell me he's just a pervert. Because then I at least still have a chance.

Happy anniversary to me!

(Oh, and to Molly and Drew too.)

See, today is the one year anniversary of the last time I was a bridesmaid. And I can not believe how much things have changed in the past year.

Welcome to what I like to call my own personal baby boom.

• Molly and Drew got married a year ago today and are expecting a baby in January.

• Sissy #1 got pregs and had a baby in October. (My sweet little nugget nephew.)

• Sissy #2 got pregs and is due in February. (My soon-to-be sweet little nugget niece.)

• Simply Married got pregs and had a baby about a week ago. (Can't wait to meet you, Aubrey!)

• And my cousin got pregs and is due in January. (Another little lady to add to the fam.)

I suppose I should have expected this. I mean, after you're a bridesmaid a zillion times, it only stands to reason that the next stage of your life will be going to a zillion baby showers.

But geez. How did I go from buying candy nipple tassels to buying breast pumps?

Can't hurt to ask

THE SETTING: My friends' daughter's birthday party in mid-October.

THE CHARACTERS: The little girl's parents (my friends), paternal grandparents, paternal aunt and me. The little girl's maternal uncle arrives late (after flying in from out of town) and is dropped off from the airport by his married friend, Airport Ride. (Read: I'm clearly not hitting on the married friend in the scene outlined below.) Airport Ride (AR, below) seems very nice. I immediately know he's "good people."

AAAAAAAAAAAND SCENE:

ME: "So, do you have any single friends, AR?" (asked after I literally talked to him for four minutes... but long enough to judge his character and get a good vibe)

AR: "Hmmm. I don't know."

ME: "That doesn't do me any good." (Sidenote: I was drinking something called Ryan's Cream at the time of this conversation. Which really doesn't add much to the story other than alerting you all to the fact that there's a Bailey's-esque liquor called Ryan's Cream. Which apparently gives me balls of steel.)

AR: "Wait! I do know a guy. He's really funny. But he's (pregnant pause)... a redhead..."

ME: "So what?! I don't care about that."

AR: "... but he keeps his hair really short."

ME: "OK, AR. Well, I'm going to give you my card, and you tell your friend to call or email me if he wants."

AR: "Cool."

I mean, seriously. Who DOES this?!? I knew the guy for less than a commercial break and I'm already asking him to fix me up.

But guess what? The friend emailed me. And he's really effing funny.

So I guess the title of this post is true. It does never hurt to ask. (Even if you look like a friggin' loon in the process.)

Stay tuned!

Jumping back to move my love life forward

Remember when I said about a month ago that I was thinking about going to Jump Back Ball this year in the hopes of meeting the future Mr. Always a Bridesmaid?

(Assuming I haven't already met him and he's just playing coy. Or that he's purposely hiding from me.)

Anyhow, I know of at least two couples who met at Jump Back Ball over the past couple of years... one of whom actually just got engaged! So, I'll definitely be making my appearance at Jump Back Ball this year.

In fact, I'm going to be getting my tix early. On this Thursday, to be exact. At the ticket sales kick-off party at AJ Rocco's, when tix are the lowest price they'll ever be (which will obvs give me more money to put toward a pair of killer shoes).

So between now and the event in February, I need to find a cute dress, lose about a gazillion pounds, grow out my bangs (from that unfortunate haircut decision back in April) and figure out how to apply self-tanner without getting weird lines on my hands.

Oh, and maybe even find a boyfriend to go with me.

And if I don't have a boy to take to the ball, maybe I'll find one there. In which case I'll need to make sure those "killer shoes" are actually a pair of glass slippers.

Because this Cinderella is ready for her ball, peeps. And for her Prince Charming.

Send the boys my way (even tho I don't know what way that is)

As you may recall from last week, I was supposed to have two GNOs last weekend. Until I got a killer headache on Saturday and had a date with my couch that nite instead.

So I'm making up that GNO tonite with my friend Slim.

(Who, BTW, is like 5'agazillion", super fit, blonde and beautiful. You know. The kind of friend you really want to hate except you like her too much. My 5'2" ass feels like a troll when I go out with this chic.)

Anyhooo, I'm not sure where we're off to yet. As you know, it's YESvember, which means I am just getting bossed around and doing whatever I'm told.

(Which Slim said should really make it NODvember. As in, I just nod and do whatever she says. I like it.)

Have a great weekend, everyone! Please send all the cute eligible men to... well... wherever Slim and I end up! :)

It's all their fault

Of course, I'm talking about blogmom and blogdad.

And what's their fault, you ask? The fact that you're stuck with me.

Because 37 years ago today, they got hitched!! (And then they popped out three beautiful daughters. Even though I consistently remind them that they should have stopped after me.)

Anyhow, happy anniversary, guys! Love you!

I can only hope to make my children as sick as you two make sissies and me. (And you know I mean that in the nicest way possible, right? Because you're so effing cute.) Here's hoping it doesn't take another 37 years of you being married for me to find MY perfect partner!

(Because, really, I'd be 70 by that point. And I'm pretty sure blogdad would have to walk me down the aisle in a wheelchair by that point.)

Looking for Sexy Singles!!

And this time, it's not for myself.

Cleveland Magazine is looking for hotties for its annual Sexy Singles issue in February. Are you a hot single? Or do you know someone who is?

Nominate them here. (And hurry! Nominations are due Friday.)

As long-time readers already know, I was featured as a sexy single back before this blog even existed. And while I obviously didn't meet the future Mr. Always a Bridesmaid (sigh), it was fun to be included in the issue (especially since the photog totally rocked it and somehow made me look tan and relatively skinny in the dead of winter).

Had I been writing the blog back then, you would have heard all about some of these doozies:

• the guy from high school who sent me flowers to ask me out to dinner


• another guy from high school who very awkwardly called to ask me out (completely catching me off guard at work), then realized how awkward the conversation was and called back (at 8pm, when he knew I'd be gone from the office) and left not one, but TWO, rambling messages to apologize for asking me out so abruptly in the first call (I mean, even this cold-hearted bitch felt badly for him... for a hot minute, at least)


• The Murse 2 (I should have learned my lesson with the original Murse, right?)

OK, so maybe those weren't the best examples for you likely candidates out there. But at least I got some dates out of it, right?

(Along with a framed pic of the issue from blogmom and blogdad that would be totes weird for me to hang in my own condo.)

Anyhow, I would LOVE to know if you nominate someone (including yourself!). Who do you have in mind? Be sure to leave a comment. I am sooooo curious!

P.S. If you're nominating a funny, cute, not-a-jackass guy in his late 20s or 30s, I have three words for you: WHAT THE HELL? Why haven't you introduced me to him yet? You bastard.

P.P.S. DIBS!!! There. That's just in case anyone fitting the above description shows up in this year's issue.

A Google giggle

I always think it's funny when bloggers post the Google search terms that refer people to their blogs. So I thought you would all appreciate this little gem I just discovered:

I slept with jocks and married a nice guy

Ummm... yeah. I mean, I am obviously no expert in either of those areas. Now I could understand if any of the following searches directed people here:

• unhealthy obsessions with Matt Lauer


• my friends think my boyfriend might be gay


• dating stories that would make for good Lifetime movies


• if one more g.d. person asks me why I'm still single I'm going to rip their eyelashes out


• are my cats ruining my love life


• I want to read the most hilarious blog ever created

Okay, maybe not that last one. But you catch my drift...

I'm a yes (wo)man

Where will YESvember take me? The truthful answer is, I have no idea.

What I mean is that I've decided (as did those of you who voted "go east!" in the poll) that I probably frequent the same places too often. I'm like an old dog. Except I don't hump people's legs.

(Ahem.)

Anywhoooo... for the month of YESvember, whenever I have plans with someone, I am going to make THEM decide where we're going.

(It's killing me a little bit inside every time I give up that control.)

I've already got two GNO outings planned for this weekend, so I will be very interested to see where the nite(s) take me (and my cute, fun, single girlfriends!).

Do you have suggestions for where we should go? Make sure to comment on this post, since my partners in crime read the blog and just might take you up on your ideas!

Taking the advice of blogmom...

... and not going to say much of anything about my visit with Mr. X this weekend.

(See? Even at 33 years old, I sometimes do still listen to my parents.)

So I'll just leave you with this:

Welcome to YESvember, peeps!

Trick-or-Meet

I can't believe I'm actually typing these words, but I'm finally going to see Mr. X this weekend.

(And, as luck would have it, I have a giant zit on my chin. Like, so big I could carve it, put a candle in it and have kids trick-or-treat at it.)

I'm feeling nervous and excited and worried and hopeful and guarded all at once. Sort of like I'm going to do this:

This could mean very good -- or very bad -- things for Cocktober.

Sissyversary

Three years ago today, I was honored to serve as co-maid of honor in my youngest sissy's wedding. I hadn't been in a wedding for a couple of years prior to that, so sissy's wedding was really the first in my series of many, many bridesmaid endeavors.

Some highlights I remember from that day:

• Blogmom and sissy comparing bicep muscles during 40% of the morning "getting ready" routine


• Sissy claiming she wanted to walk down the aisle to Back That Thang Up (yep, we're definitely related)


• The bridesmaids escorting sissy into church under cover of a giant sheet because the weather gods were frowning on us that day (even AFTER we threw a rosary in the tree, an old Italian ritual to ward off bad weather on your wedding day). Luckily, my wedding day survival kit included enough babushkas to strap onto each bridesmaid's head so no one looked like they'd just gone through Armageddon.


• Our middle sis getting so drunk at the reception that she was laying on her stomach on the wet dirty dance floor -- in her bridesmaid dress -- pretending to surf


• My bro-in-law (the groom) having one of the bartenders "removed" from the reception because he didn't like the guy's attitude (he was sent down the hall to work the bar at the Italian American beauty pageant instead)


• Blogdad exchanging glowsticks (in a very embarrassing manner, FYI) with one of my sissy's friends while they both broke it down on the dance floor

Aaaaand, so went the first of the sissies to get hitched.

Hard to believe that in the past three years, both of my younger sissies have gotten married, bought houses and gotten pregs.

And, well... I'm still single.

But Cocktober isn't over just yet, ladies and gents, so you never know!

I mean, Mr. Future Always a Bridesmaid could be lurking right around the corner... at the Halloween bash I'm going to on Friday nite... or in that other city I'm going to visit someone in on Saturday... or on the Love Interwebs you're all subjecting me to in YESvember...

What do you think? Are you feeling a love connection happening for me sometime soon?

(Please humor me and say yes.)

Love at first click?

The votes have been tallied for YESvember, and the results are in:

• match.com (or some other online dating service): 35%


• go East! (do the same stuff, but across town): 33%


• blogparents.com (like eHarmony, but blogmom and blogdad do the matching); 19%


• Jump Back Ball (where a few of my friends have met their BFs/fiancees): 11%

I'm not sure how I feel about the results. I really am veeerrrryyyy leery of online dating, given the horrific experiences most of my friends have had.

(I realize that there are a few good stories mixed in there too. But for every "good" story, I hear about 20 bad ones. You do the math.)

But, in the spirit of YESvember, I will try it out for at least a couple of weeks next month. But I swear to God, if any guy emails me who has a profile pic wearing an Affliction t-shirt (or, worse, no shirt at all) and uses some corny-ass pick-up line in his profile and/or a message to me, that's grounds to quit the service ON. THE. SPOT.

(In case you're wondering, my profile pic will neither show me in an Affliction shirt nor shirtless.)

So since I've never done this before, any suggestions for which service is best?

Fugly is as fugly does

My friend Amy sent me this list of the Eight Cities with the Ugliest Guys.

Is your city on the list?

(Thankfully, Cleveland isn't!)

(I mean, seriously. For once CLE didn't make one of these horrible lists!! YEAH!!!)

So, now that we've determined I won't be going out with some ugly dude... how will I meet the future Mr. Always a Bridesmaid in YESvember?

Don't forget to cast your vote! The polls close Friday.

(Unless you plan to vote for blogparents.com, in which case the polls are already closed. Because God knows I don't need that one to win.)

Time to vote for Issue Me

Thanks to the great suggestions from all of you, we've now got a ballot for you to vote on. (Let's hope there isn't as much debate over Issue Me as there has been in Ohio about Issue 3.)

I've included below the four ideas that I liked best from all of the comments you guys had on my post asking for new ideas to meet boys.

(That's not to say that I didn't like all of the ideas. But going on the radio to get a date holds too much potential for being very publicly "outed" as myself. And moving is a giant commitment -- what if my luck is just as bad in my new city? And while I love you, Allison, I'm not quite sure WHAT the hell you were talking about when suggesting pecan crusted bacon as a solution to my love life.)

Anyhooo, without further ado, here are the four options up for vote:

• GO EAST. This means doing the same things I normally do, just in places I don't normally do them. Specifically, on the east side. I have to admit there is some merit in this one, as I was at a Starbucks on the east side a couple of months ago for a work meeting and there were some hottie patotties there. I really like this idea because I wouldn't be too far out of my comfort zone (as in, I'd be doing things I'd normally do -- just in a different locale), so I'd be more likely to be myself. (Versus if I tried joining an effing intramural sports league, in which case I would so totally not be myself.)


• BLOGPARENTS.COM. If you read all of the suggestions, you saw that blogmom and blogdad have the idea that they can find me true love if given the chance. The gist is that they'll set me up on one date per week for the entire month of YESvember, with the following caveats: 1. no refusal 2. no backtalk 3. no grief. While this sounds fun in theory (and would most certainly contribute a blog story or seventy), I worry that this could cause some weirdness if the dates go horribly awry. And seeing as I've got nowhere else to go come holiday time, I'd prefer to stay on decent terms with blogmom/blogdad.


• MATCH.COM. Lots of you suggested trying out online dating. To be honest, I've thought about it before, but any time I've gone on to even peruse, I know waaaaaaay too many of the guys (friends, clients, peeps who work in my field, etc.) for it to be an option. HOWEVER, one of my anonymous commenters (who said the nicest things to me, BTW -- love you, whoever you are!!) said that you can make a match profile hidden. So if this is the winning option, that's the route I would go. (To protect myself from creepy stalkers, guys I already know, and possibly you!)


• JUMP BACK BALL. This was another suggestion from an anonymous commenter, and I really like it. Like the commenter, I know a couple of... well... couples who met at this yearly fundraiser for PlayhouseSquare. (And, in fact, one of those couples just got engaged!) Plus, it would give me a good excuse to go shopping for a new dress. (On the east side, natch.) The event isn't until February (I think), but in keeping with YESvember, I will buy my ticket next month to ensure I go.

So whaddya think? You've got til Friday to vote for your fave. Head on over to the top left of the page and cast your vote!

And, if you want to campaign for a specific idea, make sure to leave a note on this post. Consider the comments section your town hall meeting!

In the meantime, I am working on some other plans of my own. Still trying to figure out if I can pull off the mixer before people get crazy with holiday commitments. And, there may or may not be a trip to visit Mr. X in the next couple of weeks too.

Stay tuned!

Happy belated boss' day!

Don't forget to lob in your suggestions for YESvember and boss me around for once. I'm taking your ideas til midnite tonite.

Voting on the ideas will start next week!

(But don't worry. I haven't gone completely insane. Some of the more out-there ideas -- such as moving -- may not make the cut. I'll still always be the ultimate boss of me.)

XOXO -
AAB/The Boss

Suck-it Day

Saturday is Sweetest Day. And I'll be at a little girl's birthday party.

(Not that she's not sweet. In fact, I wish the guys I've dated got excited as she does to see me.)

But the point is that I'll be celebrating with a 6-year-old instead of on a date with a sweetie.

(Sidenote: I just accidentally typed "sweetit" instead of "sweetie." And then I giggled.)

So, in the hopes that I will have someone to celebrate Sweetest Day with next year (even if it is a made-up holiday that only about 1/100th of the country celebrates), don't forget to lob in your suggestions for YESvember. (And thanks to those of you who already did. Some good feedback so far!)

Next week, I'll be putting the ideas to a vote for all of you. And I am officially frightened to see the results. (Especially if the blogparents.com dating service idea wins.)

Now go out there and buy your sweetie some of these. I'll take the leftovers. (Of the strawberries, not your significant others.)

Boss me around

Yes, you read that headline correctly.

Don't get used to it. You won't hear it come out of my mouth (or my fingertips) ever again.

But I decided that starting in November (since Cocktober is going so swimmingly in the dating department), I am going to accept tips/suggestions/bossing-arounds from readers to help me break out of my comfort zone and put me in situations where I will likely meet new people.

(Not simply to make me look like a jackass. Though that will probably happen anyhow.)

Places to go. (Specific restaurants/bars? Bookstores? etc.) Things to do. (Sporting events? Wine tastings? Pottery classes? etc.) People to meet. (If so, WHO? And why haven't you introduced me to him sooner!?!?)

Anyhow, you catch my drift.

Whaddya say? Put on your thinking caps. Email me or comment on this post with your idea for how I might meet the future Mr. AAB. (One per reader, please.) I'll pick my favorites and put them up for a vote here the last week of October, then you guys can decide which ones I have to follow through with.

Because it's not about November. It's all about YESvember.

Brainstorm away! :)

Wanted: Christopher Columbus (or other like-minded explorer types)

As you can imagine, I get lots of emails from you guys pointing me in the direction of interesting dating articles and/or quizzes. (Which, BTW, I love! Keep emailing me, peeps!) But, to be honest, I don't often have time to keep up with all of them.

However, I did take time to do a quiz from a woman named Dr. Helen Fisher after reading this article on YourTango. Dr. Fisher is the author of a book called, "Why Him? Why Her? Finding Real Love by Understanding Your Personality Type." And, based on the results I got, this bitch knows her shit.

Apparently, I'm an EXPLORER/builder. (Along with John F. Kennedy, Angelina Jolie and Ernest Hemingway. Oh, and Britney Spears.) Which means this:

You have a great deal of energy and vitality. You are curious, creative and resilient. You have many interests; and you find pleasure in doing and thinking about all sorts of things.

You tend to be optimistic, seeing the world as a place of adventure -- physical, intellectual or both. You seek first-hand experiences. And when you embark on a project or expedition, you like to be organized, thorough and responsible.

You enjoy the pleasures of the senses, yet you are firmly grounded in reality and live in the here and now. You can be charming and charismatic; and you sometimes like to surprise those you love with generous presents.

You also have a clear moral compass and stand up for your beliefs. And in spite of your flexibility and enjoyment of novelty, you have a genuine respect for home, family, work and community. You are conscientious, dependable, cooperative and protective.

Wow. I can definitely relate to much of that stuff. But what I really freaked out about were these "things to be aware of":

• Don't assume someone isn't funny just because they don't display their sense of humor instantly.


• You can be so charming that you can get into a relationship too fast. Honor your natural caution and go slowly.


• Explorers and Builders rarely indulge in self-analysis and they can hide their emotions. Let people know how you feel.

Mother effing holy crap. Those warning signs are totes me too.

And, according to the quiz results, I'm drawn mostly to other EXPLORER/builders too. Which seems especially appropriate on Columbus Day, no? So if the above description sounds like a fab single guy you know, send him my way!

(I'll even let him call me Nina, Pinta or Santa Maria if he wants to.)

Six is the loneliest number...

When I read Lemmonex's tweet and subsequent blog post about the reason a guy cancelled a date with her yesterday, I felt so badly for her.

(Seriously. Go take a gander at her blog post. It will take you all of 30 seconds to read and it is well worth it.)

That is, I felt so badly for her... until I sat back and realized that I haven't even had a date in more than six months.

SIX MONTHS.

And it was with the guy who I went out with a couple days after my date with The Greek. You know, the one who I didn't even give a nickname to because I knew I'd never be writing about him again. Yeah, the date was that good.

It's no wonder that I haven't been posting as much since returning from my blogcation. Just like Jay Leno, I've got no material. Ugh.

So, to cheer me up, please tell me... what's the funniest/most embarrassing/most hilarious thing that's happened to you in the past six months?

(Bonus points if it involves a bad date.)

Not-so-great textpectations

What is up with creepy text stalkers? My friend at work received two very odd, very panic-inducing text messages yesterday. The sender of said messages was "1234" (not a real phone number).

Here's what they said:

• HELLO..... (received at 1:57 p.m.)


• [friend's name] (received at 1:58 p.m.)

My friend (who shall remain nameless here so at least I can't feel culpable if someone does end up hunting her down and chopping her into pieces) responded to the messages with, "I'm sorry, but who is this?" She then got a bounce-back that said, "The recipient you are sending to has chosen not to receive messages."

WTH?!?!?

This little scenario reminded me of my incident with The Creepy Texter last November.

(To this day, I have never worn that blouse... er, shirt... again.)

I mean, who does this?!?! (And, more importantly, can he/she show me how to do it so I can cyberstalk hotties myself?!?! Ha!)

Has this ever happened to any of you guys? Or do my colleague and I just have the propensity to attract creepy dudes?

(Wait, on second thought... don't answer that...)

There's a new man in my life...

... and he's absolutely perfect!!

He is soooooo cute.

He smells good.

He likes to cuddle.

And he's never picked a nite out with the guys over an outing with me.

Then again, he is only a few days old.

That's right! I officially became Auntie AAB this weekend! My sissy, her hubs and new baby are doing swimmingly. Blogmom and blogdad (now bloggram and bloggramps) are ecstatic. The rest of the fam is beaming with pride.

And Auntie AAB has officially had her heart stolen.

(See? Even this cold-hearted b*tch can be nice once in a while.)

I feel really badly for my next boyfriend. He's going to have some stiff competition.

(And please, for the love of God, please do not let me get so desperate for a baby of my own in the meantime that I do this.)

Unlike Santa, unicorns and the Tooth Fairy...

... funny, cute, single boys DO exist!

(It's just sometimes harder to find them than an egg hidden by the Easter Bunny on Easter morning!)

I had very fun, thoughtful, engaging conversations with two single boys yesterday. And those two little convos were enough to restore my faith in the fact that there probably IS a boy out there for me.

I just have to find him. (Unless I already have?)

(Sidenote: in the interest of full disclosure, one of the boys I talked to was Mr. X, and the other was a friend I've known for several years. I've purposely not been writing about Mr. X lately since, as you know, he knows about the blog and occasionally reads it. But don't mistake not writing about him a lot for not thinking about him a lot. And wishing he lived here even more.)

Phew. I was starting to think it was hopeless and that I'd never find a boy. At least yesterday confirmed for me that there ARE needles (awesome single guys) in the haystacks (plethora of douchebags).

Time to go huntin' for that needle. It's almost COCKtober.

P.S. Sorry if COCKtober is offensive to anyone. Read: sorry, blogmom and blogdad. But it was the first thing I thought of when dreaming up the name for next month's dating adventures. And it's just too effing funny not to use. At least, I think it is. ;)

Mixin' things up

Is the month of SeptMENber really almost over already? Holy crap. Guess there goes another dateless month for the record books.

However, I am bound and determined to turn this luck around. So, over drinks on Friday, my friend and I concocted a plan.

We're going to have a singles mixer.

The details are a bit sketchy at this point. (That's what happens when one of you is basically drinking straight vodka and the other is fresh off a red eye from Vegas.)

But, here's what we do know:

• Who? Every invitee would be hand-picked by my friend and/or me. Each of them, in turn, must bring one guest of the opposite sex. The guest must be totally date-able, just not a good match for the invitee (e.g., good friend, sibling, ex who remains friendly, etc.). This means we'll have an even number of boys and girls. And, hopefully, none of them will be complete psychos.


• Where? We're thinking we want to rent out the private room in the back of the Velvet Tango Room. For one, the drinks there are amazeballs. (And I'm gonna need a LOT of alcohol to pull this shizz off.) And for another, the atmosphere at VTR is such that we think everyone will be on their best behavior. (Well, at least until they have a couple of those strong-ass drinks.)


• When? Probably around Thanksgiving. If we wait much longer than that, we probably won't be able to do something until 2010 (knowing that December is usually crazy for everyone). And God help us all if I don't have a date before the end of this year.


• Why? Ummm, you read this blog, right? 'nuff said.

Thoughts?

Another one bites the dust

(Apologies if you're now humming that Queen song.)

As I mentioned earlier this week, last weekend was the finale to my Summer '09 Wedding Season Extravaganza.

As with every wedding I attended this summer, the bride looked gorge (which was especially exciting for me, considering I had never even seen her in a dress).

She even remarked that she thought of me and how proud I'd be of her while she was getting her make-up done, since she typically wears chapstick and a light coat of mascara... and I typically wear half of the MAC counter.

(Translation: there are probably fewer than 10 people who have ever seen me without make-up on. EVER. I am always jeals of girls like my friend, who are naturally beautiful. But that's why lipstick was invented, right?)

Anyhooo... the bride was beaming, the couple was too cute for words, the setting (a picturesque farm) was amazing, blah, blah, blah.

Now on to the really good part: the Amish boys.

I'm not going to lie and say that these kids looked like Amish versions of the JoBros. In fact, they were sort of like Monet paintings (good from far, but a little dicey up close). But, hey. They were Amish. They'd probably never seen a girl who was wearing heels that could rototille a field either. (That would be me, in case you were wondering.)

Now, I'm always up for a challenge. But my friends daring me to attempt to pick up (and subsequently make out with) one of the young Amish boys? C'mon. Even I couldn't go there. (Especially because they were not even guests; they were working as caterers.)

I mean, there are things that make for good blog stories. And then there are things that send you straight to hell. And I don't like to be hot.

Anyhow, after I refused to tickle the young Amish boy's undercarriage, our conversation quickly devolved into a discussion about Rumspringa (though none of us knew the name at the time), which is apparently the time during adolescence that a young Amish kid gets to break loose and do things like date, drink and (gasp!) wear jeans.

So then I got to thinking... had I accepted the challenge to corrupt the young Amish lad, what would I have done? (I mean, besides making him wear a t-shirt that said, "I put the RUM in Rumspringa.") And if you had the chance, what would you do?

P.S. I also got to meet one of my blog readers at the wedding. Hi, Casey! Hope you weren't too disappointed when you met me IRL! :)

Scrounge up your pennies, ladies. (And gents.) I need FAST CASH.

Or, if you'd just like to bid on my behalf, go here.

C'mon. It's for charity.

(And by "charity," I could possibly be talking about my pathetic excuse for a dating life.)

P.S. I'm also accepting applications for blog readers who want to be the friend who gets to tag along with me when I win! ;)

An end to an era

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.

But this past weekend DID serve as the end of my 2009 Wedding Season Extravaganza. (And I wasn't even a bridesmaid in ANY of this summer's weddings... I can barely believe it myself!!)

When I started today's post about Saturday's wedding finale, I realized that I never wrote about the LAST wedding I went to (in early August). It was SUPER fun. At least, what I remember of it was.

Let's just say that that beautiful August nite started with the bartender at the Ritz making some strooooooong blackout & tonics for Ms. Always a Bridesmaid. I remember dancing (but not as much as the photographic evidence would suggest) and attempting to do shots with the groom's younger cousin (only to be told we were not allowed to do shots, so instead we got full CUPS of straight alcohol to down).

The nite ended with me bringing out Jorge (from the bride's bachelorette party) and using him as a prop in a number of inappropriate scenarios. Behold:



But don't worry. I did NOT share the midnite snack arranged by the bride and groom (burgers, fries and ice cream sandwiches) with Jorge. Mama needs her sustenance if she's gonna dance til 2am, peeps. (BTW, this was the first time I've ever been to a wedding where the music -- and alcohol!!! -- went til 2am. Two words: HOT MESS. In a good, super-fun way, of course.)

After I finished my midnite noshing, I didn't want to piss Jorge off, so I let him use my snack container to get a little refreshment of his own in the marble fountain:


Aaaaaaaand that is why you either definitely do (or maybe, definitely don't) want to invite me to your wedding. At least you know there will be entertainment! :)

I'll write about this past weekend's wedding finale later this week. Suffice to say I was dared to attempt a make-out session with a young Amish boy who was working as a caterer. (Spoiler: I did not take the bet. But I did consider it for about 10 seconds.)

Boys, illustrated

The image below was forwarded to me from my single friend in Philly. She and I are living parallel dating lives right now. Misery loves company, right?

And there you have the reason that I still contend that gay guys would make the best boyfriends. :)

Thoughts?

This makes perfect sense(s)

I was driving home from work the other nite and the song Pony by Ginuwine came on. Stop laughing. What's funny is not that I was listening to a station that would actually play that song. (OK, it's sorta funny.)

What's really funny is that the song actually reminds me of and ex-BF: The Mush Mouth. (It was the first song we ever danced to once we decided we liked each other. Stop judging. We were at a college bar and we were both drunk.)

So then I started thinking about this little gem: Pretty much every one of my five senses reminds me of an ex- in some way or another. Behold:

• Hearing -- see above (and, seriously, stop effing laughing that that song reminds me of a romantic liaison)


• Smell -- every time I smell Emporio Armani cologne, I think of The Murse. He wore it for years and, in fact, his mom even bought us the his/hers version one year for Christmas. It's really sort of a bummer, since I actually really like how this stuff smells. But the memory of him that comes along with it just makes it a real stinker in my book.


• Taste -- I can't eat dumplings without thinking of The Murse either. Actually, without thinking of his mom. Because it was the meal she made for us every year (for six years, remember!) on New Year's Day. She friggin' loved that meal (as did I, after I tried it the first year). Lucky for me, pork and dumplings is not really a regular feature in the AAB diet. However, even seeing them on a menu somewhere reminds me of her (and, then, him).


• Sight -- whenever I see a picture of either Leonardo DiCaprio or Eric Dane, I think of The Divorcee. He was like a real-life version of the two of them if... you know... two men could mate and create an offspring. I can't help but think of him every time I see one of those two in the gossip rags or on E! with my (possibly gay and definitely pretend) BF, Ryan Seacrest.


• Touch -- I can't really think of anything good for this one. (At least, nothing that blogdad could read.)

(Jaaaaaaaaay Kaaaaaaaaay, blogdad. I've never touched a boy in my life. Pinky swear.)

So what about you? Which of your senses triggers thoughts of an ex-?

P.S. Happy birthday, sissy! Hope you have a great day!

Pen pals are FUN! (Or are they?)

After spending much of this weekend with my sissy, she has convinced me of something: I think I may have a pen pal.

And his name is Mr. X. (Except our form of written communication is email, text or tweets. But same diff, right?)

Here's the thing, though. You know when you're typically supposed to have pen pals? In, like, 5th grade.

Newsflash: I'm not 11 years old anymore. In fact, I'm three times that age.

So why do I still feel like I want to have one of my friends pass a note to Mr. X that says, "Do you like Always a Bridesmaid? Check yes or no."

Maybe I should just go play M*A*S*H* and figure it out for myself.

You know. After I crimp my hair, lace up my Tretorns and watch an episode of Growing Pains.

Good to see I haven't learned anything more about boys than I knew back 20+ years ago.

My celebrity date-alike

I had a revelation while reading last week's issue of UsWeekly at the hair salon tonite.

(BTW, my new hairdresser relationship is going swimmingly! Too bad I can't say as much for my dating life.)

Anyhow, I had in my manicured little hands last week's issue of Us, featuring the cover story about why Bradley Cooper (yum!) chose Renee Zellweger (meh!) over Jennifer Aniston (aww!).

(Sidenote: who the EFF would choose Renee over Jen? Is it even a contest?!?)

And then it hit me.

I think I may be your Jennifer Aniston.

(Well, minus the amazing body. And, you know, the millions of dollars. But at least I've got the fab hairdresser!)

You know what I do have in common with Ms. Aniston?

The tabloids are always talking about the fact that we're single. (I mean, how many times can we possibly read about Jennifer being dumped? By Brad, by John Mayer, by Vince Vaughn, by Bradley Cooper, etc.) And, they're always seemingly feeling sorry/bad for us because of it.

(OK, maybe it's not the tabloids in my case. But you catch my drift.)

So am I right? Do you guys think of me as perpetually unlucky in love like our little old Rachel Green? Am I the CLE version of Jennifer Aniston (minus the boobs and the Benz)?

Then again, I suppose it could be worse. I could be compared to tabloid fodder Kate Gosselin. But, you know. With better hair. ;)