Month: December 2011

The Official Martini Bar Soiree Cheat Sheet

It’s finally here: the official 2012 New Year’s Eve Martini Bar Soiree!  I’ve yet to come up with even the most cliché of New Year’s Resolutions but I have written a cheat sheet for tonight’s party and seeing as some of you will be meeting The Wedding Date for the first time, please print the following for reference. And highlight it. And memorize it on your way to Philadelphia so there are no embarrassing moments, okay? 1)      My friend Meghan (who wrote Wednesday’s post “Crossing the Rubicon”) will be in attendance with “Adam.”  Although “Adam” is not his real name and she kind of sort of forgot to tell him that she was writing a blog post about him, so mum’s the word, okay? 2)      The Wedding Date will also be attendance.  Although The Wedding Date is not his real name either.  You’ll be briefed upon arrival. 3)      My last boyfriend (the one from London) was called something very similar to The Wedding Date and my dad, sick puppy that he is, has taken great …

A Surprise in My Inbox

Well folks, I have a new Facebook friend. And the conversation that prompted his request somehow pre-empted his reading of my post on the subject. Go figure. As for other news, tomorrow night’s New Year’s Eve Martini Bar Soiree is just hours away and I still don’t have anything to wear.  I’ve spent the past three days scouring the East Coast for a suitably blingy (and admittedly clingy) countdown-to-midnight frock but at this point I shall have to go naked. Or find something in my closet that I’ve already worn. Which is almost just as bad. What can I say?  I read that online dating subscriptions jump 15-20% in the days leading up to New Years because people are so darn desperate to find someone with whom to play tonsil hockey as the clock strikes midnight.  For the first time in years, I actually have someone and I couldn’t be happier (not that I anticipate much tonsil hockey, seeing as we’ll be at a party hosted by Landlord and Chauffeur), but is it too much …

Since when is “Friend” a verb?

Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.  Absence makes the heart grow nitpicky.  It’s been eleven days since I last saw The Wedding Date and even though I have very little to complain about, there’s one tiny little detail that’s been bothering me for the past… well, several months actually. And we’ve talked about it, and I’ve assured The Wedding Date that I’m okay with it, but I’m not, not anymore. It all began several weeks ago when we were snuggled up on his couch about to watch Modern Family. “Ready?” he asked. “Not yet,” I replied, “I want to ask you something first.” “Uh oh.” And so began my State of the Union address. “The thing is,” I explained, “I write a blog.  You can read about what’s going on in my love life on the internet every morning.  But you… you don’t write a blog.  I don’t know what’s going on with you.” “Finally!” he exclaimed. “Finally?” “Yes!  I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.  Most girls—most girls would never make …

Crossing the Rubicon

Crossing The Rubicon: Navigating the Facebook Relationship Status

Today’s post comes courtesy of my former flat mate and partner in crime, Meghan.  Meghan and I lived together in London and we spent hours “researching” the male sex during our time abroad.  I’m really excited about her story; for starters, she’s a web writer and a social media consultant (i.e. a damn good writer) and her tales of relationship woes always crack me up.  In addition, the subject of today’s post is rather near and dear to my heart (for reasons I’ll explain tomorrow).  In the meantime, enjoy! This side of last year, I was 23 and I’d never been in a real relationship.  I’d never called anyone my boyfriend, and as I finally relocated back home to the east after three years away (two in London and one in Las Vegas), I didn’t see that changing any time soon. I spotted “Adam” across the floor at the cavernous Casbah night club in dear old Atlantic City. 6’4” and sporting a serious Jersey white boy swagger, I knew I was staring at a welcome …

Break Up 101: How to Dump (or Get Dumped) with Dignity

Nothing from nothing but if you’re dating a woman who writes a blog about… well… dating, you probably shouldn’t send her twenty two text messages when she finally comes to her senses about your relationship (or lack thereof) and decides to call it quits. Nor should you email her.  Or send her Facebook messages.  And you certainly shouldn’t send duplicates of the same messages just to ensure that she gets them. Trust me: she gets them.  And you’re not doing yourself any favors when you call her names and accuse her of being a drama queen.  (After all, she’s not the one who’s sent 22 text messages, now is she?) The good thing about breaking up with a man who’s made you miserable for the past six months is that the actual break up causes very little pain.  Mind you, I use the term “breakup” loosely because it’s hard to break up with a man who never wanted to be your boyfriend in the first place, but I’m proud—if somewhat mystified—to report that I shed …

Picture Perfect… Almost

As fate would have it, I did in fact wish The Wedding Date “Happy Birthday” instead of “Merry Christmas.”  It’s not that I don’t know the different between “Feliz Navidad” and “Feliz Cumpleaños”—I do— it’s just that I was in a rush and I always write “Happy Birthday” in Spanish on Facebook so when I start to write “Feliz” the word “Cumpleaños” just follows automatically. The best part is that his entire family spent the holiday at his place, which means everyone saw the card, including his Spanish-speaking parents. Awesome. At any rate, Santa was very good to me this year and he brought the entire Richter clan matching hats, gloves and socks.  Naturally, we decided to do a photo shoot: See you tomorrow!  And yes: the dating talk will resume first thing Tuesday morning. Related articles Feliz Something-Or-Other (katrichterwrites.wordpress.com) Feliz Navidad! (laaventuraproject.com) Feliz Navidad!… with jet lag (melanieenespana.wordpress.com)

Feliz Something-Or-Other

It’s funny what a difference a year can make.  This time last year, I was smashing candy canes with a vengeance for my annual foray into holiday-chocolate making because I was so frustrated by Date #17 and his workaholic tendencies.  This year, however, there was very little to be angry about—not with The Wedding Date sitting across from me at the kitchen counter asking “How can I help?” It’s Christmas Eve and for the first time in a very long time, I won’t be spending the evening feeling sorry for myself.  True, I’ve recently undergone my annual holiday break up (it wouldn’t be Christmas if I wasn’t breaking up with someone) but I’ll be seeing The Wedding Date in exactly one week and between now and then, I have FIVE WHOLE DAYS off.  It’s a Christmas miracle. Speaking of Christmas miracles, my presents are all wrapped and ready to go.  I am hours ahead of schedule.  Usually I wait until the last minute and by then, Landlord and Chauffer have used up all the good …

All I Want For Christmas is Someone to Use My Shower Gel

Remember last year when Landlord gave me this for Christmas? Maybe not, so I’ll refresh your memory with a quick blurb from last year’s post on the subject: For Christmas I received, amongst other things, the Bath and Body Works 2010 V.I.P. Bag.  It contained (also amongst other things) a bottle of Twilight Woods Men’s Shower Gel.  “Great!” I thought.  “The next time I have a man over to spend the night, I can present him with his very own bottle of Twilight Woods Men’s Shower Gel!”  (I will lure him in with my new Secret Wonderland Fragrance Mist and he’ll be so impressed by my coordinated His and Hers shower gels that he’ll drop to his knees and propose on the spot—either that or he’ll wonder just how many men have helped themselves to a dollop of my Twilight Woods and will flee the scene. Well, to those of you who’ve been following the progress of my Great Date Experiment, it will come as little surprise that my Twilight Woods Men’s Shower Gel has …