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. ;)

Cheers to a year!

Who'd have thought when I started this little blog a year ago (yesterday) that I'd still be writing it? Certainly not me.

And what a year it's been. If you've been with me from the start, you've experienced:

• A date from hell that was the impetus for this blog


• The guy I dated for 6+ years deciding (after being broken up for 3 years) that he made a mistake


• A few fun guest blog posts, including the now-defunct Man Monday


• The Outing: '09 (a.k.a. The Tale of The Greek)


• My parents (hi, blogmom and blogdad) becoming pseudo-celebs on the blog (sort of like Kathy Griffin's parents... but, you know... even lower than the D-list)


• My family praying to sweet Jesus & Mary that I find a man (Again. And again. And again.)


• Taking a much-needed blogcation


• My sissies getting pregnant! (As well as several of my very good friends too!)


• And, probably my fave dating story thus far: Grammar Guy

And, obvs, there were several weddings thrown in there too. (Which is sort of a given, given the subject matter of this blog.)

Truthfully, I simply started this little blogging adventure last year because I had found myself telling various groups of friends (from high school, from college, from post-college, from work, etc.) the same horrific dating stories over and over... and over. And I was simply looking for a way to not have to rehash the unfortunate tales more than I absolutely had to. (Would you want to tell some of these stories more than once?!?)

But I never imagined that I'd meet so many other amazing bloggers (many of whom I'm now happy to call friends). And I never (I mean, EVER) thought that so many people who don't know me would find the blog (yes, I'm talking about most of you) -- and actually want to read it! (Please humor me if you're simply reading to make yourself feel better about your own dating life.)

Lucky for you, I clearly picked an awesome year to start a dating blog. I can't remember a more depressing dating streak in my entire life. I mean, there were very few guys who I even considered as real potentials in the past year. And, of those who were possible candidates, they all clearly fell out of the running after a few dates. (Except for Mr. X, who seems to be hanging in there after about a month and a half or so of us talking. But maybe that's because we still haven't actually seen each other. Which, BTW, blows.)

So, thanks for the fun ride. It can only get better from here, right?

(Dear GOD. For the love of all things holy, please tell me it won't get any WORSE.)

XOXO --

Always a Bridesmaid

P.S. I'm certain I'm forgetting tons of other good stories from the past year. Do you have any personal faves?

"There's nothing wrong with me."

OMG, are you freaking kidding me?

Not one... not two... but THREE of you forwarded me a link to this story and accompanying voicemail in the past week, so I figured I should probably post it already.

(BTW, thanks for looking out for me, ladies!)

Seriously. It's ridiculous. And totally (1,000%) worth your time.

Check it out here.

My favorite line is, "There's nothing wrong with me." Um, I would beg to differ.

God, I hope I don't meet any men named Dimitri this weekend. And if I do, I'll sure as hell grab my business card back from him. What a creep.

P.S. I'm inclined to believe this is some sort of viral marketing campaign. This can't be real, can it? Christ, no wonder I'm single.

Dating X-pectations

Well, guys. I was right to go into tonite's event with low expectations about the guy(s) my crazy aunt might introduce me to. (But I felt like I had to go, since this is now the third or fourth time she's invited me to an event to "introduce me to so-and-so," and I didn't want her to think I was ungrateful for her attempts.)

Upon meeting the two guys she had in mind for me (who were friends, BTW, which was sort of creepy), I immediately knew I was not interested. In either one of them. Because no matter how funny, smart, family-oriented, successful, etc. a guy is, if I'm not attracted to him, it just ain't gonna work.

Are you with me, ladies? (And gents?)

I'm sure these guys were plenty nice. (Though they were a bit above my age demo too. And by "a bit," I mean a lot.) But, physically, one reminded me of David Letterman (but with nicer teeth... which is good, considering he's an oral surgeon) and the other reminded me of a grown-up version of Ralphie from A Christmas Story, but with brunette hair (and about a tube of hair gel).

Damnit. Is it so much to ask to meet someone who is both great on paper and ALSO someone I could imagine making out with?

(Sorry, blogdad. Should have warned you that one was coming.)

And as I was reflecting on that while driving home, I realized that I feel like maybe I did meet someone like that: Mr. X.

(You may remember that I started talking to Mr. X while I was on blogcation back in July, but I haven't written about him much here because he knows about the blog. Let's hope he's not reading it today!)

I mean, I think Mr. X is hilariously funny. (Big plus.) I know he’s very close with his family. (Awesome.) He’s got a career that he likes. (Important.) I still get giddy like a school girl when I see a message from him. (A little too sappy for my taste, really.) AND, I think he's adorably cute. (And could totes imagine smooching him.)

But here's the problem: Mr. X lives in another city. (Bummer.) And while we talk every day (or, at the very least, text and email), we've got no plans to see each other anytime soon. (And, really, I can't tell if he even wants to.)

So now I'm trying to figure out what's worse: finding a local guy whose only thing in common with me is that we are both single, or finding a guy who could be a great match, but who's geographically undesirable?

Eff. SeptMENber is off to a rocky start...

*** UPDATE ***

I just got an email from my aunt: "They both want your number." FML.