MOH

My best friend is getting married Saturday, and I’m excited to be serving as her Maid of Honor.  The last several months have hit all the high notes – the  shower, the bachelorette party.

Now, with only a few days to go, I get to be there tonight as she tries her dress on for the last time before the big day.

In addition to the MOH speech I’ll be writing for the weekend, I’ll also be focusing on weddings and commitment on the blog this week.  Because it’s brought up a lot of emotions.  And because it’s always such a contested topic in the blogosphere.

Stay tuned…

My First Memory

My first memory is of the day my Dad moved out of our family’s Brooklyn apartment.

There are others – flashes – from life before that, but they’re not as vivid or dramatic.

Mom was bawling.  Dad was brushing her aside, grabbing his bags and trying not to prolong the inevitable.

Then Mom and I stood in the window facing the street of our third floor Brooklyn walk-up and watched as Dad walked down the stoop, out the gate and down the street with the last of his bags slung over his shoulder.

Mom – still bawling – was now holding me, crying on my shoulder. I would’ve thought he – or the rest of the neighborhood – could’ve heard her.

I don’t remember Dad ever turning around or even pausing. I just remember watching the back of his head – his jet black hair – from above as he walked down the street, changing our lives forever.

I was four.

I Better Find Your Love

I’ve been obsessed with the new Drake song.  I would listen to it online on my work laptop.  Since finally downloading it, I’ve had it on a continuous loop in my car.

The lyrics were so relate-able, so sweet:

I better find you, your loving, your heart… I bet if I give you all my love then nothing’s gonna tear us apart…

*swoon*

And then today I actually saw the music video.  Wow.  MAJOR disappointment.

Hip hop has evolved in so many cool and wonderful ways – why are the directors catering to 14 year old audiences???

Friday Mysticism: The Law of Attraction

The law of attraction states that whatever you focus on, you  bring closer to you.

At its most basic, this law makes sense to me:

• Angry, irritable people put others on edge, and end up being treated in a way that reinforces their attitude.
• There’s usually a line around the block of people who want to hang out with the happy-go-lucky life of the party.
• No one ever bitch-slapped Mother Teresa.

Your thoughts, words and actions magnetize you – and like attracts like.

It’s hard to argue this basic truth.  We all grew up with it:

• Treat people the way you want to be treated.
• Fake it ’til you make it.
• You reap what you sow.

All law of attraction -isms.  It’s ingrained.

Ever since learning about the law of attraction, I’ve tried to actively think about how my thoughts, words and actions shape my experience.

How am I magnetized?  What am I bringing to myself right now?

Guru Patti Comes to Our Megacity

After two seasons of berating her LA clients with stories of “hunter males,” love guru Patti Stanger has moved her third season of The Millionaire Matchmaker to the Big Apple.

But what did she find when she got there?

“It’s 5 women to every 1 guy… and they’re very metro here. Where are the hunters?”

And her biggest challenge as a matchmaker in NYC?

“Finding hot girls.  Which don’t exist [here].”

This is not good news for us, Washingtonians.

American urban studies theorist Richard Florida, author of Who Is Your City?, argues that economically and culturally, the DC/NYC/Boston corridor is one large megacity.  So, if we work and play the same, we may date the same, too.

Obviously, I’m now that much more curious to watch Patti’s third season.  …I’ll just be doing so with the knowledge that all the hot girls of our megacity are down here in D.C. 

Hear it from the horse’s mouth.  Watch Patti’s interview with PopEater:

I Am the Martha Stewart of Bachelorette Parties

That’s right.  Those were pink paper plates before I got my hands on them.  Me, my sharpie and I drew those suckers by hand.

Once finished gracing the goodie bags of all party participants, these babies doubled as nametags.  Those idiots out in Dupont this weekend wearing the penis nametags in Fly?  That was us.

French Bitch

I’ve always wanted to be the turtle.  I swear.

But I want to be the turtle in comparison.  Still the effusive, loving, and sexual cuddle queen – just out-tigered by someone that much more hopelessly head-over-heels for me.

Instead it feels like you have to be some French Bitch to get the kind of attention I crave:

Don’t let them see they’ve got you, and they fall all over themselves.

I just can’t fake it like that.

The Tiger and the Turtle

It’s a metaphor for two polarizing roles people often play in relationships.

One person is always chasing after the other, always vocal, always wanting more.

The more the tiger paws, the more the turtle retreats into its shell.  The more the turtle retreats, the more the tiger paws – to try to get them to come out.

It’s a vicious cycle that plays out in many relationships, the relationship counselor explained to my ex and I, as we sat face to face on velour armchairs.

That’s right – before all was said and done, we even saw a couples’ counselor – as though the writing on the wall wasn’t already in dark enough black ink.

And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you which one I was.

Roar!

Rug Pull

It is a hefty switch to throw.

Maybe it’s false advertising, the way I’m so cool at the beginning, and then so myopic once we hit exclusivity.  I’m a big believer in like attracts like – so maybe my cool cucumber routine attracts the wrong kind of guy for what I ultimately want.

But remember:  I’m only flipping this switch and showing this cuddly side to those guys that pursued me the longest and hardest.

To put it bluntly – I’m not a third-date-sex girl, I’m a sex-in-two-months girl.  And it’s not for the game of it; it’s because I know me, and I’m not ready to share with or have the feelings for a guy that I’ve only known for a couple of weeks.  (This system is admittedly the result of some trial and error.)

So, in my mind, they’ve pursued me for months, they’ve treated me like a queen, acted beguiled in every way…. And I’m finally thinking I can let my guard down.

But life – and especially relationships – are more like yo-yo’s, aren’t they?  As I pull away at the beginning, they have to chase.  When I stop running, so do they.  (Presumably) exhausted, they chill out just when I’m ready to ramp up the passion.

And that’s when I’m left feeling like the rug got pulled out from under me.  Here I’d done everything I could to try to attract and weed out an upstanding, serious gentleman – and the one I’m with starts taking a breather.  I stopped seeing other guys for this? It’s so anticlimactic.

Hefty Switch

In what feels like a cruel joke from the universe, once again my current boyfriend echoed some of my ex’s sentiments – this time, in an email.

I could go on and on about the specifics of what’s really going on in this situation versus my last – but I’m a big girl.  I can own it.  The similarity here is me.

I’m not always Clingy McClingerson.  At the beginning (read: non-exclusive, pre-sexual) phase of a relationship, I’m downright aloof.  Focused only on my girlfriends and keeping the fun coming, I book several dates a week and I’m just not available to cling or be clung to.

But once I slow down – typically with the one that pursued me the most earnestly, genuinely, and class-ily – and we decide to be exclusive and sexual…  all bets are off:

• I want sex at least once a day (not always possible, but it’s my preference).
• I want to lie awake at night, telling each other our deepest, darkest secrets.
• I want daily phone calls, texts, emails, or other ways he can show me he’s thinking about me.
• I want chicken soup when I’m sick.
• I want date nights.
• I want bubble baths.
• I want weekend trips to the country, to the beach, to the city…

…and for all this, I’m willing to go toe-to-toe with the generosity, sweetness, and attention – sometimes to the exclusion of all else.

I admit, it’s a hefty switch to throw – but it’s just how I’m built, and there’s not much I can do to change it.  It’s all or nothing with me.