It just creeps right up every year. It’s Valentine’s Day and then you sneeze and out comes WEDDING SEASON. I’m attending four (possibly five) this year. That’s a lot of hotel room minibars to resist, a lot of champy to consume without getting too tipsy, a lot of my signature Elaine Benes style dance moves to bust out. I don’t even care if I look like a spaz. Just let me dance!
This wedding season, for the first time in forever, I have a date that I can drag with me to all the nuptials. After one wedding together, I’ve learned a few things about my guy’s wedding style: he doesn’t usually like to dance, but when he does, he’s got a mean groove on the downbeat, he’s only mildly embarrassed by my dance moves and he seems to be immune to hangovers. So far, he’s killing it as a plus one. And I’m grateful for that. Because after years of wedding date weirdness, I’ve learned that the wrong escort can ruin the whole damn affair. You deserve to have your wedding season to suck as little as possible. So, if you’ve been lucky enough to be asked to attend a wedding as a plus one (weddings are expensive these days and it’s an honor that should be taken very seriously!), here are some guidelines for how to behave so that your date doesn’t want to dive face first into a tray of oyster shooters.
Wedding season is kind of the best. I gladly welcome any excuse to put on a fancy dress, throw on some lipstick and toast the merry union of two souls, united in common interests, rooted in love. Weddings exist on a plane where everything is heightened, cast in a rosy glow fueled by champagne and cake and the joy of others. Every song is your song, in every conversation you are charming and witty, and, after a while, everyone — and I mean everyone — looks like a prime candidate for a clandestine makeout sesh over in the corner by the photo booth. Before you slink over to the target in your crosshairs, check yourself. Let us help you. Follow this guide, and you should be golden. Keep reading »
A few months ago, my love life went through a dry spell. It wasn’t that messages weren’t coming in on Match.com or that guys wouldn’t chat me up when I hit happy hour after work. I just wasn’t connecting with anyone. I felt really blah about the men who I went on dates with (usually only one date with) and I started to doubt my “picker.” Maybe I’m bad at this, I thought to myself.
Right around that time, my friend started dating a new guy. This new guy had a roommate. In the swell of her new romance, the roommate probably did seem pretty great. She said he was a cute, funny, smart professional musician from the same religious background who is also a vegetarian. She offered — no, she insisted — she set us up. I’m an open-minded gal, so I thought I’d give it a shot. She knows me pretty well, I thought.
I don’t think I even need to tell you how awkward the date turned out to be. Keep reading »
Spring is in the air – and in your nose. You sneeze, ooze, and actively resist the urge to claw your itching eyes out. That is, if you’re allergic like me. I cope with an assortment of antihistamines and avoidance tactics: yes, I’m totally fine NOT going outside today, or for the next three weeks! My brother jokes that he should build a portable bubble for me to live in during pollen season, and some days I really would prefer to hibernate in a hypoallergenic biosphere for the entire spring and summer. It’s just that I’m single. So I can’t. There are dates to be had.
Living with allergies, I’ve learned to avoid any of the following: cats (or people in coats covered with cat hair); shrimp, oysters, and any other annoying member of the shellfish family; fresh strawberries and apples. Damn farmer’s market! Having allergies is simply part of who I am – who needs to go apple picking anyway? But to a non-allergic person, like that Jon Hamm lookalike who asked me out, I fear coming off like a human science experiment. For highly allergic people everywhere, here are some tips for navigating your spring/summer dates: Keep reading »
A few years ago, I had to swear off dating musicians. I’d been dating them since high school, both casual guitar-noodlers and career musicians who had songs on CW shows and their faces on T-shirts. Again and again I’d fall for the sensitive guitar player who wears eyeliner … and again and again the same patterns would repeat themselves that led to us breaking up. I have nothing but the nicest things to say about most of them as people. Don’t take my swearing-off musicians as a warning, per se. On the contrary, my loss is your gain — the more for you! Just make sure you know these 12 details first. Keep reading »
I have something I need to get off my chest. I’m experiencing pangs of guilt about writing about dating when I’m no longer doing it. I wake up some mornings and feel like I’m the Benedict Arnold of the single population. During my time at The Frisky, I have gone through pockets of non-singleness, but for the most part I have been single and proud to be so, with moments of not-proud-to be so. I’ve written about the ups and downs of that, but mostly, I accepted and embraced singlehood. I cultivated an identity around it.
As much as I griped about having to sleep on the pull-out couch every Christmas (that did genuinely suck), as much as I blamed myself for being single, as much as I kicked and screamed my way through online dating, as many times as I gave up and went on dating hiatuses, the truth is that I liked being single. I liked being free to hang out with friends, or go to hot yoga, or wake up as early as I felt like on a Sunday morning (I never sleep past 8 a.m). I liked reading my books on the subway and always being in charge of what to watch on Netflix live streaming. Season 3 of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” at 7 a.m. on Saturday? WERK! I liked making unilateral decisions about everything in my life because, seriously, it’s the height of personal freedom. It’s something that everyone should experience. It’s a state of being to be savored for as long as it lasts. Keep reading »
I’m an avid backpacker/compulsive traveler. I’m an overly optimistic dreamer who has quite seriously hypothesized that (a) mermaids exist, and (b) if you run fast enough and cry hard enough, Bradley Cooper just might chase you around a street corner and scream “I love you.” I tend to believe that smiley face emoticons in emails are one step away from a marriage proposal. For the most part, my world view serves me well, except perhaps, when it comes to travel romances. From my personal experiences, I would like to share with you some helpful DONT’s and DO’s of flinging while abroad. Keep reading »
The Frisky HQ is under construction for the next couple of days so I was planning on working from home. Then yesterday, my internet crapped out and I found myself running to the local coffee shop in my pajamas. Six hours later, I was still sitting in my pajamas. It was an interesting day. There was a blind date that I eavesdropped on for a while. I thought that would be the subject of this week’s Dating Don’ts. Then the Boston Marathon bombing happened and the mood turned dark. I sat in silence for a while, watching CNN. My roommate was next to me, because she had the day off of work to study for a grad school exam. She eventually interrupted the silence to confess that she’s been watching that new show “Ready For Love.” Someone needed to cut the tension.
I laughed. But she was like, “Don’t laugh! They had this whole bit about how you should never say the word ‘fart’ on a date. It was interesting.” Then we got into an in-depth discussion about bodily functions and dating. Because these are the things that people sometimes talk about when terrible things happen in the world. Keep reading »
I keep blinking my eyes. Splashing cold water on my face. Waiting to wake up from the cinematic dream sequence which has been my life for the last three weeks. It all started when I ran into an old friend from college on the subway and the next thing I knew, my love life went from black and white to technicolor in a poof, like when Dorothy landed over the rainbow. So. Yeah. Hi! Greetings from over the rainbow. Colors are brighter here. Food tastes better. Dogs and babies and munchkins all have secret messages just for you. Time is measured in hand holds and kisses and the breeze decides which direction you walk.
I’m trying desperately to make sense of it all. But I fear I have become one of those people: the love-crazed fool who you want to punch in her stupid, shmoopy face. Even in my state of euphoria, I recognize that my type can be terribly annoying. Should you ever find yourself over the rainbow, A) Enjoy it! and B) Try to keep it together so the rest of the world doesn’t want to murder you. Here are some thoughts about how to do that… Keep reading »
One day, you’ll be leaving work, your limbs heavy with dating fatigue. You’ll trudge to the subway with a sourness in your soul. I’m done with dating, you’ll whisper into to the dank subway air. That’s it. I will live underground in the subway tunnels like those mole people and never have to sit through another awkward round of drinks again. You’ll be so wrapped up in your self-pitying reverie that you’ll miss the train. You’ll, swear, gnaw on your cheek, hating yourself for thinking like this and wait for the next one.
Moments later, you’ll notice a man on the platform standing next to you and feel drawn to him like a super-duty magnet. He’ll pull you with great gravitational force onto the same subway car as him and you’ll sit across from him. He’ll pull out the NY Post. And you’ll think No one reads the paper anymore. But this guy does. He’s the last paper reader alive.
You’ll study his face, this paper reading unicorn, taking it in, trying to make sense of it. He has kind eyes. His mouth is fixed in a perma-smirk. When his smirk spreads to a smile, you’ll realize you recognize that smile. You know him!? This realization will untether you. This is someone you know?! But how? From where? Keep reading »