Who you callin' a ho (ho ho)?

Hey, guys! Just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas!

(Unless you celebrate Hanukkah. Or Kwanzaa. Or you're an atheist.)

I need to get busy wrapping presents (including, for the first time in a LONG time, some for a boy!), so I won't be around these parts too much in the next several days.

But merriest of merries and all that jazz.

I'll let you know whether I made the naughty or nice list... ;)

Sorry, boys...

... but this guy is back on the market.

(I'm assuming bachelors everywhere are drinking their sorrows away at their nearest watering hole, knowing their chances of landing that special lady just went down now that Mr. Reynolds is single again.)

But, seriously. Why have there been so many celebrity couple break-ups lately? What is it about the holidays that leads to breakups?

(Sidenote: if you ask blogmom, she'd tell you that blogdad systematically broke up with her every year before Christmas, which eliminated the need to buy both a Christmas present and a birthday present for her early January bday. Then, he'd conveniently want to get back together shortly after that, just in time for his mid-January bday. Blogdad denies this story every time.)

Have you ever had a holiday breakup? What happened?

It's the little things...

I was listening to a re-run of Rover's Morning Glory this morning, and one of the segments was about the little things men can do that really make their women swoon. The list they cited included things like "remember her mother's birthday" and "flirt with her in public."

(The number one item was "scrape the ice off her car," which is appropriate given the SnowMyGod happening in Cleveland the past couple of days, no?)

Anyhow, for any of you men reading this... I realized it *IS* the little things that make me swoon. (Especially if they come in little blue boxes. Jaaaaaaay kaaaaay!)

But, really. Here's an example: while driving the other day, I mentioned in passing how my windshield wipers were crappy and needed to be replaced. Next thing I know, the boy toy had run into the store to pick up something else, but came out with two new windshield wipers in tow too.

(I was actually so oblivious that I thought he had bought them for himself, since I really didn't even remember saying my wipers sucked.)

When I realized he had bought them for me (the next day), I thought it was the sweetest thing ever! (Or at least, this month.) ;)

(See? There's not always ice coursing through these veins of mine.)

So, ladies... tell me (and help my 3 male readers)... what little things has your man done to make you get all girly and giggly inside?

Nice package!

Have you started Christmas shopping for your special someone yet? I need ideas!

P.S. This may be my new favorite website.

Pathetic or true love?

I can't believe I haven't blogged about this yet, but can we just for a minute talk about the fact that Jessica Simpson got engaged ONE WEEK after her ex-hubby did? I mean, does that smack of desperation or just weird coincidence?

(I vote the former.)

For more deets about the story, click here.

What do you think?

Happy Friday!

I'm glad I follow my own advice...

... because it came in handy yet again!

Remember waaaaaaaay back when, when I wrote this post about never leaving your house looking like a pig because you never know when you might run into an ex?

And you know how I always say Cleveland is two degrees of separation, right?

Well, those two little nuggets came into play last week when I ran into a blast from my dating past.

Not that he'd remember.

That's right, ladies and gents. I saw Amnesia Guy.

Picture it. Third quarter of a Cavs game. I had just finished my second (double) gin and tonic and wanted to hit the little girls' room before the game let out. So I left my boy toy at the seats (which were SICK, by the way), made my way up the stairs and turned the corner to head toward the ladies room.

And there he stood. Amnesia Guy. Stuffing popcorn down his throat and wearing what some might consider a Cosby sweater. He was clearly waiting for someone to come out of the ladies' room, and after the ridiculous email exchange that went down with him last summer (seriously... if you don't remember/know the back story with him and didn't click on that link up there, do yourself a favor and go check it out now) I had nothing to say to him.

So you're probably asking, "Why are you telling us this story if you didn't even talk to him, AAB?" Well, my point is this, ladies: you never know when you might see an ex (even in a sea of 20,000 of your closest friends at an arena), so it's best to be a good scout and always be prepared.

Because while I was looking all sassy in my cropped velvet blazer and cute little booties, he... well... was wearing that unfortunate sweater. (With popcorn all over it.)

I bet he wishes *I* were the one with amnesia now.

Have you ever had a run-in with an ex when he (or -- gasp! -- you) looked like a wreck?

The best wedding I never went to

Contrary to popular blogpinion, I have NOT been to every wedding ever held in the contiguous United States.

(Just most of them.)

But there are a few that I never made my way to.

And there's one in particular I wish I could have gone to... but, alas, I wasn't born.

That's right. I'm talking about the lovely nuptials of one Mr. and Mrs. Blogdad and Blogmom. On this day 38 years ago, they got married.

Fast forward through three daughters, two sons-in-law, two grandkids (with another on the way), four cats and lots of my ex-BFs... and they're still holding hands in church and commenting on blog posts together -- nearly four decades later!

Happy anniversary, guys! Love you! (And so do my readers!)

xoxo --
Always a Bridesmaid

P.S. I think we can all agree that I was the best gift you ever gave each other, but don't tell my sissies. ;)

Whoreoween

When did Halloween become Whoreoween? I swear, Halloween is now just an excuse for girls to dress (and act) slutty. (Not that the single guys probably mind all that much.)

Me? Not so much. My rules for Halloween are simple:

• I can't be uncomfortable. (One year, The Murse and I went to a party as the Unibomber and The Bomb. I was The Bomb, natch. Which meant I wore a giant cardboard box around all nite and couldn't lift my arms to drink my beer. And I needed help every time I went to the bathroom. Sidenote: my bladder is the size of a ping pong ball. That's when this rule was enacted.)
• I can't look like a whore. (Unless, of course, I'm dressed as a whore. But then how would I look any different from my everyday wardrobe? Jaaaaaaay kaaaaaay.)
• I can't look like an asshole. (Same ex-boyfriend, different costume: one year, The Murse and I went as the couple who had the Halloween party we went to every year. Except he was the wife and I was the husband. I wore Carhartt from head to toe and a drawn-on goatee. I looked like a reject from Extreme Makeover: Lesbian Home Edition and immediately swore -- after seeing pictures -- that I would never go out for Halloween again looking like an asshole.)

Since then, I haven't really had many opportunities to do a couple's costume with a significant other because, well... I haven't really been dating someone at Halloween. And it looks like this year won't be much different, as the boy toy will be working when I will be partying. Sad face.

(However, I am pretty juiced about my costume idea. And, no. I'm not divulging.)

Do you have a favorite couples' costume that you've worn (or seen) over the years? (One of my personal faves is when my sis and her now-hubs went as Cameltoe: he was the camel, she was the toe.)

And what's your take on this whole Whoreoween phenomenon?

Don't move to Panama City!

At least, don't move there if you want to stay married.

A new article was just published citing America's 50 divorce capitals, and Panama City topped the list. Lucky for me (and those of us who live here), Cleveland didn't make the cut.

(Not that it matters much for me... since you have to actually get married before you can get divorced.)

Is your city on the list? And do you really think where you live has something to do with whether you stay married?

P.S. What's up with all the celeb divorces being announced this month?

FourStalked

I've been FourStalked. And have lived to tell the story.

Picture it: I'm out cocktailing with a gal pal earlier this week. I checked in to the restaurant we were at on FourSquare. Then we continued dishing about the boys in our lives, and I didn't think twice about it.

But then, he came through the door. My FourStalker.

(As it turns out, he was a guy with whom I'd chatted on Twitter, and he seems very harmless and nice. And older gent who's a little lonely, maybe. But harmless.)

Anyhow, he saw that I had checked in to a place across the street from where he was, so he came over to meet me in person.

Now, he knew who I was, but I had no idea who he was because he doesn't use his picture on his twitter or FourSquare profiles. But because he knew what I looked like, he sidled up right next to me (my back was to him), asked the bartender what I was drinking and bought me a glass of wine. And nothing for himself. (Or my friend!)

I thought it was really weird that he was buying me a drink and not himself. But then I heard, "Excuse me. AAB? I'm FourStalker. I just wanted to come meet you in person and say hello because I saw you were here and I was across the street."

(Now before you get all Dateline: The FourSquare Killer on me, I must reiterate that this guy was completely harmless. We'd chatted on twitter on a number of occasions. But, again, because he doesn't use a picture there, I had no idea who he was when he initially approached.)

So... on to the best part of the story. It'd be one thing if this older gent came in dressed and looking like George Clooney. (Or Matt Lauer.) I could get into that. But noooooooo. This guy was most definitely NOT cut from that same cloth. (Literally.) And I believe what he looked like is probably best described in pictures.

Behold.

A man who looked EERILY like Richard Dreyfuss:


Wearing a shirt that was half hunting gear, half Tommy Bahama (Note: I couldn't find a shirt that even slightly resembled the one he was actually wearing to share with you... which is probably a good thing, since now your eyes won't be bleeding for the rest of the day):
And who happened to be sporting one of THESE (except it was thinner and longer... *that's what she said*):


Wow. I've never been hit on by a guy with a rat tail before.

(And, God, I hope I never am again.)

Happy weekend, loves!

From The Mouse to The Winner

I can now officially say that I dated the nation's Bachelor of the Year.

That's right, ladies. (And gents.)

The Mouse won Cosmo's Bachelor Hunt!

Check out the story here. And thanks to everyone who voted for him! :)

Meet The Mouse (and vote for him!)

Anyone who's been reading this blog for any length of time knows a few things:

• I've dated my share of frogs (though, admittedly, they weren't ALL frogs -- maybe just not right for me)
• Every guy I write about gets a nickname so as to protect the innocent (and the guilty)
• I've never "outed" a guy on the blog with his real identity (though The Greek did out himself after that whole saga went down)
• I really try to stay friendly with (most of) my ex-es because there's no point in not doing so
• Most of the guys I date are pretty metrosexual and often HOT
  

Which brings us to today's post. About Cleveland's hometown hottie, Ryan "Mickey" McLean, who's up for this year's Bachelor of the Year for Cosmo magazine. Cute, no?


Whether you realize it or not, many of you already know Mickey. How so? Well, he's been written about here before. Mickey is The Mouse.

(You can read all the posts I've written about him here. And don't worry; he pre-approved his "outing" for this post.)

Anyhow, Mick is a great guy (who just happens to be delish on the eyes) and I'd love to see him win this contest. So won't you help him? Just click on this link to cast your vote for Mr. Ohio. You can vote once per day until October 10.

C'mon ladies. Let's do this.

Like Lucy & Desi, Ross & Rachel, Sonny & Cher

Are you (the better) half of Cleveland's most interesting couple? If so, Metromix wants to hear from you!

The site just announced its "Most Interesting Couple" search, seeking 10 of CLE's most interesting romantic duos.

Think you've got what it takes? Check out the nomination form here.

(And if you win, tell them AAB sent ya.)

Good luck, you crazy kids!

Take a hint!

Several weeks ago, I got a return visit from a blast from the past: The Groundhog. And, dear readers, it seems as if I was spot-on when I gave him that nickname.

Why? Because that mother effer ALWAYS pops up.

It started with an email from him, which simply stated that he had been cleaning out his emails and came across one from me from a couple of years ago, and that he just wanted to touch base.

I had no intention of responding.

But then he called. TEN MINUTES AFTER HE SENT THE EMAIL.

(Psycho much?)

His voicemail expanded on his email, and then also alluded to the fact that the last time he reached out to me, I didn't respond. And it's true. I documented it here, peeps.

(Please note the date of that last non-correspondence too. Almost two years ago!)

Anyhow, after remembering that this was the kind of guy who would not give up if I just ignored him (as evidenced by that two-year-old post I just linked to, which was par for the course with The Groundhog), I emailed him back the next morning. I was cordial enough, but told him that I was dating someone now... and then also reminded him that he had tried to (or did) date not one, not two, but THREE of my girlfriends over the years.

Now, I know what you're thinking... why was AAB being such a bitch to a guy who was seemingly just trying to catch up? Aaaaaah, innocent readers. You see, this guy ALWAYS had ulterior motives. (You can ask any of the three of my friends he tried dating.) So I knew I had to nip it in the bud or he would keep popping up, as only a good -- errr, bad -- groundhog would do.

(FWIW, when we were "talking," our regular conversations consisted of the following topics: how women should always -- and only -- wear thong underwear; how he broke up with a girlfriend for getting fat; what inappropriate places he would get romantic with his ex-GFs; how women only ever wanted to date him for his money; or how he thought he was the funniest person alive. Riiiiiiight. So now you know why I wasn't interested in dating him.)

I won't get into the nitty gritty of the few emails that flew back and forth, but I will tell you these phrases may or may not have been used (by him): "I certainly didn't reach out to be insulted"; "You're catching me off guard"; and my personal fave, "You are a ball buster."

Suffice to say I don't think I'll have to worry about The Groundhog popping up any time soon. :)

Have you ever dated a guy who just wouldn't go away?

Sh*t blogdad says

Dear readers -

Please take a gander at Blogdad's comment on this post and let me know your thoughts.

(My thoughts? I would rather naked skydive off the Terminal Tower than have this happen. But I'm leaving it up to you.)

xo -
AAB

Two much

I can not, for the life of me, believe I have been writing this blog for two years. And to think it all started with this little post.

And re-reading my one-year anniversary post brought out some LOLs (as well as some OMGs).

So what's happened since then? A few highlights:

• I became an auntie -- TWICE!! -- to the two sweetest little nuggets this side of the Mississippi. (No, I'm not biased. They ARE that cute.)
• I came up with an awesome mixer party idea. (But never executed on it. Whoops.)
• I visited Mr. X after months of playing pen pal.
  
• I met the Hottest Guy Ever. (Who may or may not be interested in finding himself a hot guy.)
• I discovered my sissy's cyber-sleuthing skills.
• I told my 2009 dating life to EFF OFF.
• I've been to zillions more weddings (though I haven't actually been IN any of them... shocking!) and had crazy bachelorette and wedding extravaganzas. Like this one. And this one.
  
• I participated in a crazy fun game of love.
  
• And I decided to stop writing about any potential boy toys for fear of karma screwing things up.

So, yeaaaaaahhhhh... that last one is a bit of a bummer, since it was the whole reason I started this blog in the first place! So, I'm sorry if 27 Dresses has been less interesting to read since then. (Apparently misery loves company and you bastards must LOVE to commisserate!) But it HAS made my dating life more interesting (in a good way!), so I suppose there might be something to this whole karma thing after all. So can't ya just be happy for me? ;)

But never fear. I've still got plenty of ridiculous dating stories to share. In fact, there's one brewing right now involving this guy. Let's just say I gave him the right nickname waaaaay back in the day.

So what's happened in your love life this year?

Love in the air

I work in downtown Cleveland, which means one thing this time of year: AIRSHOW. I sweartogod, those planes fly like two centimeters in between office buildings during their practice runs in the week leading up to the actual airshow.

And you know who flies those planes?

Pilots. Hot ones.

You see, every year at airshow time, I'm reminded of the streak of pilots I met back in my mid-20s. Some were commercial pilots. Some were military pilots. Some were private pilots. ALL were cute. But in the span of one Spring/Summer (when The Murse and I had briefly broken up), I think I met/talked to three or four different pilots over the course of a few months.

And my favorite one was probably the one I met at an airshow. Picture it: my friends and I were at Shooter's (back when I was still dumb enough to attempt going there during Labor Day weekend) and saw a few airshow pilots walk in wearing their full airshow regalia (jumpsuits, hats, sunglasses, boots... think Top Gun).

We chatted them up for the nite, tried on their gear (no -- legitimately tried on their hats and stuff... that was not a euphemism for something else, pervs) and fell head over heels in love. (OK, maybe that was just me.)

And I actually kept in touch with my Airshow Guy for several months after we met. We talked on the phone and emailed pretty regularly. (This was pre-texting and Facebook days, peeps. Aaaah, when life was easier.) I think he even sent me a card or two. But it obviously never went anywhere. (And he's now living in the south with his wife and two kids. Which I learned after he Facebook friended me a couple of years ago.)

But you know what? I still think about that mother effer every year now when the airshow comes to town.

And then I think of the streak of all the other pilots who made their appearance that same summer. The summer when love was in the air.

(For the record, I've also had this same thing happen with certain names. Remember this?)

Have you ever had a specific profession that just seemed to be your "type" for a while? What was it?

P.S. Happy Labor Day, loves! (And if you make it to the airshow, tell the boys I said hi.) ;)

Facebook official

First of all, before you go getting too excited about the title of this post... no, I am not "in a relationship" on Facebook.

(In fact, I have always maintained that I will never broadcast my relationship status on Facebook. You know... unless there are pictures of me plastered all over the place in a big white wedding gown to verify that the relationship did, indeed, "take.")

But that leads me to the point of this post... I've noticed lately that a lot of peeps are jumping into being "Facebook official" mere weeks into dating someone.

Is this a new trend? I dunno. Seems like jumping the gun a little if you haven't even had a turn of the calendar yet, no? I mean, I have seen FB friends post "in a relationship" when they hit their one-week dating anniversary. Or after they rekindled with an ex- (only to be "single" again a couple of weeks later).

So what do you think? Have you noticed peeps changing or updating their relationship statuses more frequently than in the past? Or are my FB friends just more willing to broadcast their love to the world?

(Disclaimer: I've been known to be sketchy about defining relationships ever since I had my heart broken by The Divorcee, who told me he loved me after just three weeks of dating. So maybe I'm not the best person to judge...)

Let me know what you think. Just don't tell me "it's complicated." ;)

Dress drama

Remember when you all so awesomely weighed in on which dress I should wear to the upcoming wedding I'm going to this weekend?

Yeah, well... I ordered three of them (#1, #4 and #5)... they all arrived last Friday... I tried them on as soon as I got home... and, in all three, I looked like I was hailing from Heinoustown, USA. Population: ME.

So, they all went back to the store this weekend. Sad face. But never fear... I did find a flirty frock to wear while I was returning those dogs.

Man, I never thought I'd say this, but I sort of miss the days of being a bridesmaid when I was just TOLD what to wear. And now I wonder what the stress will be like if/when I'm ever the bride! YIKES!

How has your wedding-going season been so far?

A pick-up move so bold...

... even I wouldn't try it.

But my friend Magz did!

Picture it: A bunch of girls are out for a GNO. They spot a cute guy awkwardly waiting for someone (e.g., looking nervous, checking his phone, tapping his fingers on the table, etc.). About 35 minutes later, his companion arrived (a very cute -- in a "hot for teacher" kind of way -- girl), and they have a drink together.

Of course, we could not keep our eyes off of those very awkward first 20 minutes or so. It was like watching all those train wrecks at Cedar Point. (Except, this time, we were watching people who had full sets of teeth.)

Anyhow, after a while, the gent got up to go to the bathroom. My friend Magz (who was smitten since the young lad initially sat down) made a beeline for the bathrooms too. She "hung out" (read: stalked) him until he came out of the bathroom, approached him and said, "It looks like you're on a first date, and I can't tell how it's going, but if it doesn't work out, I'd love for you to call me." And, with that, she handed the boy her card and made her way to the ladies' room.

We, of course, watched this entire thing going down. Luckily, the guy's date couldn't see from where she was sitting. (Plus, she was fluffing her hair at the time anyhow.) But we could. And I swear to all things holy, the guy almost walked into the doorway as he was walking forward but looking back at Magz. And, he even skipped once during his jaunt back to his date. Sweartogod.

Fast forward about 20 minutes. I now had to go to the bathroom. (Don't get too excited -- no one tracked me down like Magz had tracked down her boy toy!) HOWEVS, as I was in the bathroom, the girl from the said date in question came in... which meant I had to hurry to get out and see what was happening out in the bar.

As I suspected, Magz was talking with the guy again when I came out.

So what did she say this time? Apparently she approached him as soon as the girl went to the bathroom, and found him looking at the business card she had given him. She asked him how things were going, and when he said "okay" (in a less than enthused way), she responded, "Well, what name should I expect when you call?"

And you know what? He told her his name just like that!

What remains to be seen is whether this character will ever actually call Magz. But I mean... is this just the most incredibly forward move you have ever heard? Picking up a guy while he is ON A DATE?

(And, just so you don't vilify Magz here... the "hot for teacher" girl was more than 30 minutes late... she was literally hanging off of her chair because she was sitting so far away from her date... we watched her open her own tab at one point... and it was, as Magz confirmed with the bachelor, only a first date.)

What do you think? Could you ever do something like that?

What to wear, what to wear...

Now that I'm more often a wedding guest than a bridesmaid, I have a bit of conundrum... what to wear!! When you're a bridesmaid, the biggest decision you need to make is what kind of bra to wear, or how you'll style your hair. When you're a guest... you need to figure out the whole kit and kaboodle!

That's where you come in. Help me narrow down which dresses I should try on/buy for the wedding I have coming up in a few weeks.

DRESS ONE: I really like the color of this Eliza J Rosette dress (I'm a fan of bright dresses at weddings... black is for funerals!), and the full skirt is perfect to camouflage my full ass right now.
DRESS TWO: And, just when I say I like bright dresses, this JS Boutique Pleated Shantung dress in steel strikes my fancy. (It does come in blue and purple too.) Bonus? It has POCKETS!!
DRESS THREE: Aaaaand, I'm back to color. This dark purple Maggy London Keyhole Chiffon dress is cute... though I feel like I have a couple of dresses that already look like this. But, I know this brand fits me (and my checkbook) well.
DRESS FOUR: Here's another Maggy London number, this time a Metallic Bubble dress. Something about this screams very 50's housewife to me... but it also looks way fun, no? Also? Yes, pockets. :)
DRESS FIVE: And, lastly, this Ted Baker Georgette & Stretch Cotton dress has caught my eye a number of times when I've been trolling for dresses over the past few weeks. It's purple. It's the right shape for my body. It has pockets. And it's currently on sale.
So what do you think? I may still keep looking, but at least you can help me narrow down my choices to this point. Comment away!!

P.S. If you're turbo and want to see more pics of each dress, they can all be found here.

Dirty 30's dating dilemmas

Besides the regular "How are you not married yet?" question we 30-something bachelorettes hear on a regular basis, there are other (far more frightening) dating dilemmas that face us.

Behold, my list of things I wish I'd been prepared for as a 30-something single lady:

• CHIN HAIRS. What? Don't deny it, ladies. Once you turn 30, something mysteriously happens to your hormones, and every now and then a giant whisker pops out on your chin overnite. Mine tend to come at the same time my little monthly visitor arrives, and I swear to God my chin goes from "Justin Bieber smooth" to having one hair long and thick enough to put rasta beads on it. Let this be a warning to you ladies who haven't gone through this yet: travel with tweezers.
  
• SPANX. When you're younger, you're all cute and skinny and effing adorable and whatnot. (Bitches.) But once you hit 30 -- even if your weight doesn't change on the scale -- things start moving to places they shouldn't. Now don't get me wrong... I LOVE me some Spanx. (Or Assets, as the case may be.) They help make a 30-something-year old body look like a 20-something's. At least, they can help you fake it with clothes on. But what I DON'T love is the awkwardness that ensues when you start thinking ahead to the end of a date and wonder what the hell the cute guy you're out with is going to think if he discovers your Betty White undergarments when he goes to tickle your undercarriage. I may have a friend (ahem) who once or twice excused herself to go to the restroom, shimmied out of her Spanx, shoved them into her purse (or threw them out, if her clutch was too small) and came out to her date as though nothing had happened, just to avoid the embarrassment that might come if he discovered what had kept her looking svelte all nite. Oh, that silly "friend."
  
• CELLULITE. So tell me now... when exactly does cellulite go from being cute (a la the sweet chubby baby we all love to ogle) to gross (a la my ass these days)? Because it does, ladies. Oh, it does. And no matter what miracle cream you think you've discovered to get rid of that flab, it just doesn't work. The only solution I've found to this dating dilemma thus far is a blindfold. For him. (Or exercise. But, you know. That's hard work.)
  

And I've got plenty more where that came from. Hmmm... maybe this whole "Dirty 30s dating dilemmas" should become a regular feature here at 27 Dresses. It can be my public service warning to those of you quickly approaching 30-something dating territory.

(Or a relief to those of you who are already there and experiencing these same horrors!)

So tell me... if you're single and in (or near) your 30s, what dating dilemmas do you wish you knew about before they happened?

Crazy in love

Aaaah, the things we do for love. I started thinking about the crazy things we do for love (both romantic and platonic) as I'm getting ready to head to West 6th this weekend for (you guessed it!) another friend's bachelorette party.

As you may know, I would rather naked swan dive off the Terminal Tower than go out with all the Jersey Shore-esque douchebags on West 6th Street. It's just not my scene anymore. But I obviously want to help my friend celebrate her final fling before the ring, and she wants to go dancing. So I will be there in full bachelorette party regalia (and pumped full of gin) for the evening's festivities.

But that got me thinking... what other crazy things have I done over the years against my better judgment, all in the name of love? Well, there was:

• The time I took The Murse to the rodeo for Valentine's Day and actually paid enough attention to semi-know what was going on (I'm fairly certain I was the only person there not wearing Wranglers and a plaid shirt)
• The time I helped The Divorcee pull weeds in his yard for approximately eight hours on a hot, humid Saturday whilst being eaten alive by some sort of crazy marsh bugs (though he did at least thank me with a gift certificate for a mani afterward)
• The times I went out in public with The Mush Mouth while he was wearing the following outfit (which was actually more like his uniform): inside-out white sweatshirt, baggy jeans, braided belt, chunky brown cop shoes, glow-in-the-dark faux Starter jacket (in his defense, he was color blind -- so I don't think he knew how bright that effing red jacket really was... but that doesn't forgive the fact that it wasn't even a real Starter jacket)
  

And, of course, there were the numerous times I folded a BF's laundry or picked up dinner or let his dogs out (even though they weighed more than me). But when you're in the moment, it all seems totally normal, doesn't it?

What crazy things have you done for love?

P.S. If you see a gaggle of girls on West 6th this weekend and it looks like they're looking for missing a group member, it's probably me. At least now you know where to tell them to find me.

Good for a laugh

Remember when I wrote last week about that chic doing that crazy thing called Project Husband? Ummm, yeah. Apparently she's also done a song about getting married. On an electric keyboard in front of her kitchen.

Totally good for a Monday giggle. So ridic.



I think there were like six words in that entire song. (Six words too many, but still...)

August already?!?

How is it possibly August already?

But I guess that begs the question... how is everyone's Summer of Sin going?

I would like some stories, pleaseandthankyou. Comment away.

Project Husband

Anyone who's been reading 27 Dresses for a while now knows about my documented crush on Matt Lauer. Which means I obviously watch the Today Show.

And I felt slightly less pathetic about my own romantic life after watching a segment last week about a woman who's launched something called Project Husband 2011.

Essentially, she has set a wedding date (February of next year) and has begun making all of the arrangements for her pending nuptials. The only catch?

She doesn't have a groom. (Read more about it here.)

Now, I'm all about ladies being proactive with their dating lives and going after what they want. But planning a wedding before you even have a GROOM? That tells me you're either totally desperate or totally looking for publicity. Or both.

(In which case, this little public relations ploy would probably make even the likes of PR-hungry Kate Gosselin jealous, no?)

What do you think? Is Project Husband pathetic or proactive?

Wedding woops

I've got another wedding to go to this weekend. And as I was perusing my closet for what to wear (sidenote: I eventually ended up buying a new dress, natch), I came across an off-white number that I wore years and YEARS ago to a wedding for one of The Murse's friends.

This was clearly before I knew you weren't supposed to wear white or off-white to a wedding.

(However, if that dress still fit me, I might consider wearing it just because it was about 17 sizes smaller than I am now.)

Anyhow, as I was thinking about how horrific it was that I wore that dress, I started thinking about the other faux pas I've probably committed at weddings over the years. I can remember:

• Surfing on my date's back at my cousin's wedding when the song Wipeout! came on
• Dirty dancing with the photographer and the bus boys at a wedding for one of The Murse's friends
• At that same wedding, calling a group of girls (who I didn't know) "bitches." I believe my exact phrase was, "Good nite, bitches" as the elevator doors were closing. (Sidenote: With my group of girlfriends, "bitch" is a term of endearment. But among a group of girls you don't know... yeah... not so much.)
• Doing shots with the younger cousin of the groom at my friend's wedding last summer
• Drinking an entire bottle of wine by myself as my date (in the wedding party) sat at the head table during dinner
  

Aaaaaaand... I'm sure there are others. Those are just the ones I can remember, thanks in large part to my trusty wedding companion, Gin & Tonic.

What's the biggest woopsie you've done at a wedding?

NoMatch.com

Just when you thought your dating life was the pits, I bring you this amazing post from Carolina Girl.

(Seriously. I LOLed a number of times while reading her descriptions of potential suitors. Go read it now!)

Because nothing says "date me" like a picture of stuffed deer heads mounted on a wall, right? ;)

Whatever you do...

... don't tell blogmom and blogdad about this.

I don't need them getting any ideas.

To "plus one" or not to "plus one"...

... that is the question.

Particularly when the wedding in question includes the following people on the guest list:

• Blogmom
• Blogdad
• Sissy 1 (plus her hubs)
• Sissy 2 (plus her hubs)
• Friends from college (bride's side)
  
• Friends from after college (groom's side)
• A lot of liquor
  

To me, that just sounds like a recipe for disaster, particularly if I have any thoughts of not scaring a boy (other than Brissy) away.

Yeah, I think being exposed to hours of my family could be enough to drive just about any new suitor away. Yes offense. (Sidenote: my sissies and I always say "yes offense"... because isn't that really what you really mean when you say "no offense" anyhow?!?)

So, I RSVP'd for one. Just Ms. Always a Bridesmaid for this wedding, please.

Looks like my "plus one" for this wedding will simply be my old friend Tanqueray...

Happily ever after?

Anyone who's been hanging out here at 27 Dresses long enough knows that I pretty much only write about the CLE singles/dating scene here (and not the 95% of things that make up the rest of my life).

But I've gotta admit... all this talk about "Is he going?" or "Is he staying?" has me thinking a lot about (gasp!) Cleveland sports.

(I know, I know. Pick your jaws up off the floor.)

And then it hit me: this whole sitch we're in with LeBron actually is a lot like the dating scene.

I mean, let's face it. LeBron is acting like the guy who you really, really like... but who won't commit to just you.

But you like him so much that you keep hanging on with the hope that he'll eventually come to his senses, tell all the other ladies to pound salt... and the two of you will live happily ever after.

Is that idea just a fairy tale? Or will LeBron be our city's Prince Charming?

What do you think, Cleveland? Is LeBron going to be a knight in shining armor during his press conference tomorrow nite? Or is he just going to end up as a crossed-off name in our little black book?

(Joining a long list of other yahoos I've met in Cleveland.)

Happy 4th of July!

Here's hoping you see lots of fireworks this weekend!

(Both literally and figuratively!)

xoxo -
AAB

P.S. Any suggestions for names for this month's dating adventures? Comment away!

The A to Zs of Cleveland Boys

This past weekend, some friends and I embarked upon a little game that we called The A to Z of Cleveland Boys. And let me tell you what... it was ridiculously fun!

The premise: Try to meet as many boys as possible in one nite using the alphabet as our guide. The goal was to meet at least 26 different guys -- one for every letter of the alphabet. Why? Just for fun. (And because we had concepted it late one nite at the Flying Monkey, where everything sounds better than it actually is before a good nite's rest.)

The specifics: My friend bought letter stickers from a craft store, which were promptly placed on each boy's shirt when we found a new "letter" guy. In order to make the whole outing less creepy, we embellished a recent(ish) break-up story for one of the girls in our group, and pulled the boys over to meet her to "help her get over her ex." BONUS footage: Those of us without the letter stickers had drink stickers that we could hand out as warranted to guys for any reason we wanted (which they could then "cash in" for a drink). For example, I awarded one to a guy who took his shirt off in the middle of the bar, redefining the term "beer belly."

The results: There are obviously a lot of men whose names start with J and B in this town!! However, it was a great way to meet new people, and it also gave us a good excuse to walk away whenever we wanted (e.g., "Sorry, we have to go find a V now!").

The take-away: A hilariously fun and totally random way to spend a weekend meeting new people. If you try this, I'd suggest having one of the wingwomen on standby to push for digit exchanges if/when the object of everyone's affection seems interested. (Alas, we failed our fine damsel in that regard this past weekend.)

The take-away part 2: I wasn't really at all interested in meeting someone for myself. Hmmm...

So, anyway... if you have a GNO in your future... or if you're trying to help a friend get over an ex... or if you're planning a bachelorette party and want an activity... I'd highly recommend it!

Who's in?

A blogging crossroads

So I'm sure you've noticed by now... I haven't been blogging much.

I'm at a blogging crossroads, peeps. A blogsroads, if you will.

If you were here way back when I did my first-ever post (and had NO idea WHAT the hell I was doing), you may remember that I initially started this blog simply because I had grown tired of giving the same dating updates to all of my friends and family over and over and over again. Seriously... I would cut and paste the same email to different groups of friends because everyone wanted to know what was going on (or not going on, as the case may be) with my dating life.

Never in a million years did I dream other people would start reading the blog too. Other really awesome, really amazing peeps who I now lovingly call my readers. You guys! :)

So here I am. At my blogsroads.

As you know, I've stopped writing about any current love interests for fear of bad karma. Which takes me right back to where I was before I started this blog: copying and pasting the same effing love life email updates to my friends.

Because I want them to know about new potentials in my dating pool. But I don't necessarily want to jinx things by telling all of you.

So I've been thinking a lot about what to do next:

• OPTION 1: Keep blogging as I have been... not about the particular events in MY life, but about dating/being single in general. I'd keep getting guest posts from you, writing about ridic dating shows, updating on past guys who didn't make the cut, etc. But doesn't that defeat the whole premise of this blog? It's supposed to follow MY dating adventures. (Look up there! It even says so in the masthead.)
  
• OPTION 2: Stop blogging altogether. Maybe I'm over blogging. Maybe I would have FOUND things to write about for the past several weeks if my heart were really still in it. Maybe it's time to hang up the AAB moniker and get back to just being little ol' me. (Or, big ol' me... man, I need to start working out again, peeps.)
  
• OPTION 3: Start a new blog. A blog not about dating or being single or getting asked, "How are you still single?" a dozen times a week. Because I still really love writing. And Lord KNOWS I've got plenty to say. But who would read a new blog? And what would it be about?
  
• OPTION 4: Break if off with any current boy toys and get back to biznasss as usual (e.g., writing about my horrific real-time dating stories). ;)
  

So, there you have it. I haven't decided what to do. (Though I think I've ruled out Option 4.) And I promise I'm not going to make any rash decisions. But I thought you guys deserved to know why I've been MIB (missing in blogging) for the past couple of months.

I just wish the blogging gods would tell me what to do!!!

I've been a bad, bad blogger

Forgive me, readers. For I have sinned. It has been a looooong time since my last real juicy post.

That's somewhat by coincidence. And somewhat by design.

COINCIDENCE: I've been amazingly busy with what some would call their "real life." You know, that thing that happens outside of this little ol' computer screen.

DESIGN: And, I've got a bit of a confession to make about why I've been MIA from the bloggy world. But I'm too busy to tell you about it now...

Guess you'll have to stay tuned! (I'll be back early next week, I promise!)

(dum dum dummmmmmm)

Summer of Sin -- Take 5

First off, I can not believe this is Summer of Sin Take 5. FIVE?!? REALLY? Five summers of S.O.S.? I must be really bad at math. Or really bad at dating.

(Or both.)

(BTW, if you're wondering what the hell Summer of Sin is, click here.)

Anyhow, since Memorial Day is the unofficial kick-off to summer, I suppose that means it's also the unofficial kick-off to S.O.S. Take 5.

Wonder if I'll have a "spoiled" or "legit" S.O.S. this year. (Again, that link up there will help you figure out which is which.)

Any bets? (Truth be told, I'm really hoping for a "spoiled" one.)

So, as I say every year... Summer of Sin... let it begin! (And this year... who's in?!?)

P.S. on a related, yet unrelated, note... I am a huge fan of Take 5 candy bars. Just sayin'...

Communication... or lack thereof

On the heels of my ranting about Big Red and his three strikes, this post comes to us courtesy of Girl, Esq. (you may remember her name from this post a few weeks back).

And after reading this post, I think we need to go out for a drink, girl!! We're dating twins!

(Not that that's anything to brag about. ha ha!)

*****

I'm having a men-are-bad-communicators moment. And while I hate to paint all men with the same brush, there are times when a problem is so rampant and widespread that it's hard not to assume that all men suffer from this affliction. So, in order to be helpful to mankind (or at least to vent), my rules for communicating:

1. You are the man. It is your job to make the first move. I'm sorry, I know this is antiquated. But that's just how it is.

2. Texting, Blackberry Messenger, and Facebook are not really communicating. It's acceptable to use these methods occasionally, for quick check-ins or the like. But you also have to pick up the phone and ask a girl out. E-mail is acceptable, but only if you do not have the phone number of the person in question or you have established an e-mail rapport.

3. If you say you're going to call, call. If you're not interested, that's fine. Then don't say you're going to call. Just be a grown-up and don't lie/equivocate.

4. Be responsive. If I call, text, messenger, e-mail, or Facebook you, it behooves you to respond within a reasonable amount of time. I know you and your Blackberry have a close relationship (you wear it on your belt, but that's not breaking communication rules so much as fashion rules). So, I don't buy it when it takes you 3 days to return an "instant" (haha) message.

5. I get it. You are not a planner. No calendar will tie you down. You like to go wherever life may take you. But if you ever want me to go with you, you have to communicate that to me. More than 5 minutes before you expect me to be there.

6. Salient details, such as, "I invited you to happy hour, but really it's a going away party for my co-worker and my entire office will be there" are important to include in the communication.

7. Occasionally, life gets in the way of being the perfect communicator. At these times, it is important to somehow get the message across (this is an exception to Rule #2, wherein less communicative means are acceptable) that (1) you are genuinely busy, (2) you will resume proper communication soon, and (3) you are still alive, interested, and aware that you are breaking the other rules.

*****

So what do you think? Anything missing?

Three strikes

You may have surmised from a poll I posted last week that there's been a boy who's been playing hardball with me.

Well, I've got news for him... it's three strikes and you're out!

I met Big Red several weeks ago while out with a friend, and we talked for a couple of hours. He asked for my number, I asked if he was going to be one of those guys who gets my number then never calls, he promised he would most definitely NOT be one of those guys, I gave him my number, he never called. *surprise face*

(Sidenote: This guy was so totally *not* my typical type. Beard. Tats. Burly. But I decided to be open to dating someone who didn't fit my typical guy profile -- since THAT'S been working out so well for me, right? He went on and on about how pretty I was, that I seemed smarter than most of the girls he's met, blah blah blahbitty blah. So how could I NOT give him a chance? ha!)

A couple of weeks later, I was out again and guess who walked into the bar? Of course. Big Red. I didn't see him at first, but my friends asked me why there was a guy staring at me. I turned around and saw Big Red looking my way. I immediately walked over and thanked him for not calling (in my best "I'm busting your balls in a cute way, but you better never do that again" manner), to which he apologized profusely.

STRIKE ONE. But I was still open to giving him another shot.

On my way home from that second encounter, he texted and asked when he could take me out. I responded by politely telling him that he wasn't getting off the hook that easily for not calling the first time, and that he should call me that week (not text) to set something up. He agreed.

The following weekend, I got a text from him asking if I was going to be out that nite. (If you're following along closely, you'll note that he neither called nor reached out during the week as he agreed to.) I said yes, told him where we'd likely be, and said to get in touch with me later so we could meet up. Around 12:30, I realized he hadn't texted. So I texted him, calling him out for not following through AGAIN.

(Listen, peeps. I realize that I sound totes bitchy right about now, but c'mon. If you already know you have some making-up to do, don't flake out TWICE.)

He responded and said that his friends had ditched him to go to a bar he didn't want any part of, so he just went home. (Ummm... couldn't he have called me when his friends ditched him so we could meet up? Whatevs.)

STRIKE TWO. But, again, I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I didn't write him off completely.

The next weekend, he texted to say he was in Tremont (as was I), and wondered if we could meet up. So we did. We had fun, it was a good conversation, I still found something about him intriguing... but I also felt like he might still be a bit of a flake. Regardless, we set up a date for the following Thursday.

That was on a Saturday nite. No contact Sunday. No contact Monday. No contact Tuesday. No contact Wednesday. (At this point, I would have even welcomed a simple TEXT over a call. Throw me something here, Big Red. Geez.)

At this point, I'm wondering what the hell is wrong with him. (And also why I didn't join a convent several years ago.)

He FINALLY texted late Thursday afternoon -- just a couple of hours before our supposed date -- to see if I still wanted to get together.

Seriously?!? C'mon. I had been giving him the benefit of the doubt to this point, but what. the. hell. dude.

STRIKE THREE.

(In case you're wondering, I told him that since I hadn't heard from him, I'd made other plans. Which I really hadn't, but at that point I was so pissed I knew we'd both be better off if we didn't go.)

Sooooo... there you have it. The story behind last week's poll question.

What do you think? Am I being too hard on this guy, or does he deserve it? Should he get one more at-bat?

The graduate... jerk!

Let's start the weekend off a little early with a guest post from Fastgrl. If you've ever rekindled with someone you went to school with only to find out he should have been voted "Most Undateable," this post is for you!

*****

Remember that movie School For Scoundrels with Billybob Thorton from a couple years ago (if not I recommend watching)? Well after a recent dating experience I think that maybe there really is such a school. A school where men can go to learn to be a first rate jerk.

I had reconnected with a guy that I went to grad school with some years back via good old Facebook. Back when we were in school he was married and I was engaged to be married so the opportunity to be more than friends was not there. We connected as friends on Facebook and decided to grab a harmless coffee together. It really was harmless although he had recently split with his wife and I was on the brink of an overdue breakup myself. After our coffee I received a very sweet text – basically telling me how wonderful I am. Okay I think you can see where this is headed.

So, we had lunch a week later maybe. We laughed and had a good time and I divulged that I was thinking I was going to end my roller-coaster of a relationship. After lunch I got a surprising phone call. It was the graduate telling me he had to let me know that he was mesmerized by me and that he knew it was not fair of him to put that on me considering present circumstances. Blah, blah, blah. I asked him for a couple of weeks to wrap up my loose ends.

Our texts and calls became frequent and within a week of my moving out of my exes we were out to dinner at a very nice place drinking a topshelf bottle of wine. Yep, he laid it on pretty good. The night ended with my giving him a peck on the corner of his lips. More dinners and coffees followed and all seemed to be going well until the dude just disappeared one day and I mean disappeared. No calls, ignored texts. This was a mystery to me since days before this same fellow had expressed to me how amazing I was, how much he cared for me, etc.

After about a week of being ignored I decided to just let this dead dog lie. I moved on and started dating some other people – and in fact found one I rather like. Three weeks later on a weeknight evening I received a few texts from the graduate. He said he knew I probably hated him and he didn’t blame me but he wanted to let me know that I was amazing and he was sorry how he handled everything. Apparently when we had talked about kids and I said I thought I wanted to have more that freaked him out. Apparently he can’t have them. I waited a few weeks myself and texted him back that I did not hate him and that I was glad that he acted like a jerk because I met an amazing guy.

So that’s it. It’s settled and I think he did me a favor. I don’t need another jerk in my life. Oh and it makes for an interesting class reunion I suppose!

The talk of shame

As I continue to navigate this crazy world we call dating, I have discovered that I don't know how to do something that most of my single friends do on a regular basis: sexting.

I can bat my eyelashes with the best of 'em.

Or flip my hair and purse my lips.

I'll even initiate unnecessary physical contact by, say, grabbing a date's arm as I'm listening intently to him talk about his glory days of playing high school sports.

(Newsflash, guys: that was almost 20 years ago.)

But ask me to start getting flirty via text message and I'm about as awkward as a viewing of that Motherlover video in the Cavs locker room.

I'm a 34-year-old woman who doesn't know how to do what most 15-year-old girls do.

If he asks, "What are you wearing?," I'd probably say, "Sweats and a t-shirt." If he says, "How do you like your meat?," I'd probably respond, "Medium rare with a baked potato."

See?!?! I. JUST. DON'T. GET. IT.

Is sexting proficiency really a necessity in the digital age of dating?

(If so, I'm screwed.)

Help?!?!?

Too good to be true?!?

Dear Matt:

I'm here for you, babe. Call me.

xoxo -
AAB

P.S. if you're new here, I'm not a fame whore. I have had a long-standing crush on Mr. Lauer. Or, as he shall now be known, Mr. Future Always a Bridesmaid.

The Boyfriend Box

Today's guest post comes our way courtesy of The Hoarder. I have totally unnecessarily kept stuff from ex-BFs too (e.g., for a while I was on a kick of keeping the first flower any guy ever gave me), so I can feel your pain, babe.

Read on and weigh in on what The Hoarder should do with her boyfriend box(es)!

*****

I'm the type of girl who keeps everything - EVERYTHING. From tickets to sporting events, to old tee shirts from college (and high school), to wine corks from first dates. Just the other day, I found myself five and a half years after meeting the man I thought I was going to marry, and wondering what to do with his "boyfriend box".

We dated for 3 and a half years, so he not only has one box, but three - THREE! They have the stupidest things in them like his chapstick, multiple bar and restaurant receipts, movie tickets, sports tickets, printed e-mails, birthday cards, a room key to the Ritz (ooh la la)...you get the gist. They're filled with junk that was at one time or another symbolic to me and our relationship. I would be embarrassed to show anyone what is really in the boxes, but here's a peek at one... (yes, there is an unopened condom in there - no idea why).

These boxes have been untouched since we broke up two years ago (I did not go through it to take the pic. - promise!). I feel like if I go through the boxes, it will bring back memories - good memories - and will make me miss him. And I feel like if I just throw the boxes and their contents away, I am throwing away a part of me, too.

Even the stupid box itself has meaning to it. In that box came a pair of (waaay too small) Victoria's Secret pajamas - the very first gift he ever gave me. There is still a piece of the Spongebob wrapping paper lurking somewhere in the box (don't even ask!), and the card he gave me with it. See, just talking about the good memories makes me miss him (yuck). I just have to remember that he is a lying, cheating bastard and I deserve better - waaay better!

Of course I have moved on and dated other people (and no, I did not start "boyfriend boxes" for them). I just feel torn. Do I go through them and risk missing him? Do I throw them away untouched? Do I let them be and not do anything with them for now? I'm hoping that I will eventually move in with another boy down the road. Will he think it's weird that I am still hanging onto things from past relationships? I become attached to things and have trouble parting ways with things that were once significant.

Does anyone else have a "boyfriend box"? If so, what did you do with it once you broke up?

Do you have baggage?

(Don't we all?)

But I'm actually talking about the new game show called Baggage hosted by (who else?) Jerry Springer.

The premise of the show is this: a dater comes on and meets three potential dates. Each has a suitcase which reveals his/her "baggage" to the potential dater. Once the dater makes a selection, he/she has to reveal their own baggage, and the person who got picked gets to decide if they want to go out based on the other person's baggage.

Who the hell comes up with this stuff?

Take a look here:



So what's your dating baggage?

(Mine has increasingly become this blog!)

P.S. In case you don't want to watch the whole episode I uploaded, Steve's baggage is (**spoiler alert!!!**) that he slept with a man.

Rev my engine

And here you have it... the long-awaited part 2 to Toyota Girl's guest blog post.

*****

You knew there was a “but”, right?

But he is leaving soon. He is moving away from Cleveland, for school, for a fantastic career opportunity and to a life completely foreign to me. He told me up front that he didn’t want a long distance relationship since his last one crashed and burned after a long and drawn out death rattle. After that statement I didn’t ask again. My own life and career aspirations are marching on as well. I have big choices to make in the next year, and most likely a move to another part of the country. I could try to follow him, but ultimately our career paths would be almost impossibly incompatible. We could be happy and in the same place for 4 or 5 years, but after that it would be insane.

*smack*

4 or 5 years?? I haven’t even been dating this guy for 4 or 5 weeks!

So you’d move to follow him?

Well, not unless I had a ring on my finger…

Who proposes after only a year of dating, especially when the majority of that has been long distance?…

And then what? What happens when he has to move every 2 or 3 years and you want to stay put? What then?…

And that’s pretty much how that conversation went in my mind every time. So I tried to stop having it.

Last night we had The Talk. I needed to. I wanted to. I had to hear him say the words, so I could just KNOW. He is graduating in 3 weeks, and I needed to prepare for what was happening after that.

I asked him when he was moving. “The week of graduation”.

“And… this… thing? With us?” I asked, gesturing at the space between our knees on the couch.
He smiled. And told me what he’d said the first week. That long distance was not something he wanted to do right now, that he loved this time we’d had together, and wished things were different, that this was all an unexpected gift, but he didn’t see how we could make it work. And I finally unloaded all the uncertainties I’d had about the logistics of it all, and how I wasn’t sure it could happen either. It felt good to get it out in the air. Neither of us knew how we could make it work. We both love what we do, and weren’t willing to sacrifice that right now.

We have 3 more weeks together. We have tickets for the orchestra this weekend! I’m going to take him to my favorite brunch place on Sunday morning. Maybe we’ll watch another kung fu movie.

By the way, break up sex is almost as good as, if not better than, make-up sex.

*****

And, with that, I'm officially out of guest posts. Who's next?!? Email me your guest posts at cleve27dresses@yahoo.com.

xoxo -
AAB

Baby, you can drive my car

Welcome to May, peeps! To bring in the week, we've got a two-part guest post courtesy of Toyota Girl.

(Part two will be posted in a couple of days. The suspense!)

Enjoy!

*****

I guess I should thank that other guy for cancelling our date. Or maybe that kid I saw the week before for getting me sick and missing work that Tuesday afternoon. Or my own laziness for letting me procrastinate a couple months before finally getting my oil changed. In any case, about 2 months ago I found myself in the Toyota dealership, waiting for an oil AND filter change thanks to an unfortunate run-in with a mouse. The TV was on The Food Network, I had putzed around on my iPod Touch already, and I didn’t feel like reading the book I had brought. The “freshly baked” cookies that Toyota supplies in order to make you feel better about spending $250 on car maintenance were staring at me from across the room. My swollen tonsils were throbbing and protesting (I told them the sugar would help).

When he walked in I thought “that guy looks kinda young” followed immediately by “and his head is really round… but he’s cute”. He smiled when I half-smiled, and sat down one seat away. He pulled out a book that looked moderately intelligent, and he laughed when I said if Rachel Ray used the words “Green Goddess dressing” one more time I might shoot someone.
I was bored, okay? And not a whole lot had been going on in my life. Heck, someone had cancelled a date without even meeting because “He wasn’t ready yet”. Whatever. So I started talking to him about his book. And so it began.

We ended up talking for almost an hour while waiting for our cars, and then relocated to a local bar for some food. Somehow I managed to choke down a couple bites of pizza without crying. I texted my friend in the bathroom “I’m horribly sick, just spent $250 on car issues including a mouse/filter disaster, and think I just ended up on a date”. [Side note to guys: Yes, when we go to the bathroom there’s a good chance we’re texting a friend to give an update.] When dinner was done (he paid) we exchanged phone numbers. I think his words were “At this point, I think it would be extremely remiss of me to NOT ask for your number”. Better yet, he called.

As my viral illness progressed that week, and so did our dates—a nice Mexican restaurant, drinks at a wine bar, dinner with some friends of his. And that was all by Saturday. On our first real date we both wanted to kiss the other. We said so in his car sitting in the driveway. But my cough was still gross. On our second date we thought, well, we’ve waited this long….maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow. On the third…. He said screw it, virus be damned. I’ll leave the rest of the details of that night out; suffice to say that 2 days later I got a text from him: “you got me sick”.

As HIS viral illness progressed we got to know each other better. Dinners out, dinners in, sleepovers, hikes, movies. I taught him about how food doesn’t have to come out of the freezer, and he taught me about kung fu movies. We met each other’s friends, did each other favors. I finally had someone to DO something with! And for once I had the time to enjoy it. It had been 4 years since I last had what could be considered any sort of boyfriend, and I’d forgotten what it was like to have an automatic partner in crime. I’d forgotten a LOT of the perks of a relationship (*wink*). Things were looking up… We even took a picture together when we were out last weekend. It’s really cute.

But…

*****

Tune in later this week for the conclusion to this post!

How to hook 'em in a new city

This post comes to us courtesy of The Longhorn, who recently packed up and moved from Cleveland to the big bad state of Texas. Here, he examines what it's like dating in a new city. (As it turns out, sounds like it's pretty much the same everywhere!)

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So I recently packed up and moved south. Why? Well, there’s obviously the weather. It’s almost always warm here, which leads to a tan and better moods. Also, there is the work angle. Without going into a lot of detail, I was given an amazing opportunity to work with some industry leaders in their space that would’ve been impossible to pass up.

Of course, life’s not all roses. A cross-country move presents a lot of challenges. A bunch of new colleagues, new surroundings, new apartment, new bars, new restaurants and new grocery stores can lead to a lot of confusion and uncertainty. This is all before trying to understand a new dating scene! (AAB sidenote: I think it's hilarious that a boy is worried about figuring out new grocery stores. Sounds like we have a little cook on our hands, ladies!)

CAVEAT: It’s not as if I really understood my old dating “grounds,” so layering on a totally different city can lead to some “holy crap” moments. So with that in mind, AAB thought it would be cool if I gave some similarities and differences between the two dating scenes.

What’s different?

• College town environment – If you currently live, or have lived in a college town environment (outside of your actual college years, of course) you’ll know that the bar/club scene is a mixture of people our age (30-35) and those MUCH younger (21-24). While it is fun to entertain the possibility of dating someone younger, the reality is that I have VERY little in common with someone that age.

• Push to settle down – My mom would obviously be interested in me settling down with someone sooner rather than later, but I’m not there yet. However, most of the women here definitely ARE! Most of their mothers are stay-at-home, and that tends to be their goal as well. I’m all for supporting the posse when the time is right, but let’s slow down the “white picket fence and 2.5 kids” theme for a bit.

• More outdoor activities – Obviously, coming from Cleveland there’s a very small window for outdoor activities. Here, the window is WIDE OPEN! So with that comes the push to do more things outside. Sure, I like the outdoors. However, I’m not Ranger Rick if you know what I’m saying. I really have no interest in sitting at a picnic table, or on a rock, and staring at water for hours. Maybe that hurts me? Dunno.

What’s the same?

• The Chase – I’m not a huge fan of the chase. Most of my dates are setups. I feel like I’ve got a better chance at success when a friend sets me because I think (perhaps foolishly) that they know my tastes well. However, there is still plenty of chasing here, which leads to a lot of wasted time/effort on my part (and hers). I’m not interested in jumping through hoops to date you. If we meet and it clicks then let’s go. Don’t make me chase you down to make it happen.

• The “WTF” Moment – Guys will be able to relate more to this, but there are plenty of moments where you walk into a bar, see a couple together and wonder how the hell they ended up together. The guy has a million tattoos (not that tats are objectionable), no job, but is with the hottest woman in the place. Or, you meet him and he couldn’t be more of a dolt and you wonder how he could carry a conversation. Yeah, plenty of that going around here as well.

• Good looking women – No real explanation needed here… both towns have an abundance of attractive ladies. They aren’t hard to find. Matching personalities-wise is a different story, obviously.

Those are just my observations. If you’ve moved from one city to another, what are some similarities and differences that you’ve seen?

I feel the need... the need for speed (dating!)

This guest post about speed dating comes to us courtesy of Nidhilicious. Enjoy!

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Speed dating?! In my life? It's more common than you might think.

It's not often that you get to hear about my love life (and it's not like this time it's really any different)

Background, or "Why I went Speed Dating"
a. My mom's been bugging me to get married ever since she got back from schmoozing with my relatives and I figure I should probably find a man (gag)
b. It's for a good cause (my coworker and her MBA entrepenuerial team put on this event. It's not donation-y but I guess it helps someone get an MBA?)
c. I'm allergic to slow dating (JK, only kind of)

My friend (and speed dating coercer) and I walked into the venue (Chinato on E. 4th, GORGEOUS venue) and frantically looked around for the event. All we saw were happy-hourers lounging at the bar until we heard the maitre'd giggle to some patrons that the lounge was closed due to a speed dating event.

We crept downstairs to the dimly lit lounge area, where the couches (for the girls) were lined up against the wall with 14 1' diameter tables and chairs (for the boys) facing them. I went into this thinking that every man there would be approximately 10 years older than me, and I was approximately right. I think most of the men were 7-9 years older than me (I'm 23). What a strange event. It was full of 3 minute dates with 30 seconds to circle "yes" or "no" about your date.

Highlights, or "Why I put you as a NO"
-The guy who straight up started talking about money, and how the type of lawyering that he would be doing (representing the Bernie Madoffs of the world) would be very lucrative.
-The 33 year old stoic man who went to my alma mater for law school...5 years ago. I graduated in 2008. WOW I felt young (but I'm ok with that)
-Finding out that there were some 45 year old off-the-street cougs who came in to mack on the young blood
-The "film" guy who continued talking to his previous date for almost a full minute before he sat down before me. Speed dating?
-Anomaly: Asking "If you had a blog, what would you write about?" and hearing "Food!" I love food and blog mostly about food (and/or arts and crafts). I got too excited I think. Oh well.

Speed dating is weird. The main questions that are asked are "Where do you work?" or "How did you find out about this event?" These questions are irrelevant to finding out whether or not you like someone. I'm not the kind of girl where first impressions count for too much, so I'd say speed dating isn't really for me. I'm not adverse to slow dating anymore, though...

Cleveland's Hottest Bachelors

Hi, guys! Taking a temporary hiatus from my hiatus (ha!) to post about this Inside Edition piece on Cleveland's Hottest Bachelors.

A few questions:

a. Why is Inside Edition even doing a piece on Cleveland's Hottest Bachelors?

b. And if you're gonna do hot bachelors, why no hottest bachelorettes, Inside Edition? Hmmphh. (Unless we'd ALSO have to pose shirtless, in which case... count me out.)

c. Which of these guys strikes your fancy, ladies? Take a guess who mine is! ;)

Happy Friday everyone! More guest posts to come next week.

The parade of freaks

Thanks to everyone who expressed interest in guest blogging! Here's our first guest post, courtesy of Girl, Esq. Enjoy!

(And don't forget to keep those guest posts coming!)

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You know you've reached an interesting point in your dating career when your friends nickname not just your man-of-the-moment, but the entire collective of men spanning a given time period. Bonus points if the nickname incorporates not just a nod to the sheer number of men you've gone out with (e.g. "parade"), but also some derogatory term for each and every one (e.g. "freaks"). I am that girl...Grand Master of the Parade of Freaks, if you will. It should be noted at the outset that not every single member of the Parade is as weird, unusual, or flat-out dysfunctional as the name would imply. Like any parade, there is variety....marching bands, floats, balloons, the occasional small-time celeb.

With each new person passing me by in the Parade, I learn something about myself; about what I do and don’t want and what I will and won’t tolerate. Sometimes I just get a funny story out of the experience and, really, if you can make your girlfriends laugh over margaritas with your latest dating disaster, the evening isn't a complete loss. There's something to be said for getting caught up in the parade as it goes by, even if just for a moment: to surrendering to the unique elations and frustrations of casual dating, to appreciating the hand-in-hand comedy and tragedy of life as a single woman.

Ultimately, I’m still searching for my Ferris Bueller. For the man who will stop the Parade with song and dance and cheering. Perhaps my expectations are ratcheted just a bit too high. But I believe he’s out there. Stuck in a cab somewhere, perhaps. My encouragement, though, is to always attend the Parade; get caught up in the fun and excitement; and sort out the memories, keeping the lessons and leaving the trash.