The Rest of the Story with Date #7
It’s been exactly one week since Date #7 walked me to my car, wrapped his arms around me and told me—for the umpteenth time—that I was…
A Case of the Dropsies (Part 1)
It’s 7:00pm, Saturday night. I’ve survived the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the cocktail hour and the requisite introductions to Date #7’s relatives, including the uncle who…
Mistaken Identity at the Cocktail Hour
A word of advice to all the men out there: if you’re going to date one woman while you’re quasi-dating another, and you choose to invite…
The (art of avoiding the) Heart of the Matter
So there I am, inadvertently abandoned by my “wedding BFF,” left to fend for myself amongst Date #7’s cousins and wondering, as every woman must wonder…
Of High Heels and Mudslides (and no, I’m not talking about the drink)
There’s been a lot of concern over my well being during the wedding—not from my own date, mind you (he is, after all, the one who…
