OT: Matchmaker, Matchmaker

There’s a new game we play in my office.

It’s called, “Let’s Set Lauryn Up.”

Over the past six months of single-dom, I’ve had a few offers from friends and co-workers (and those that blur the lines) to arrange a date with their “so-and-so”. These offers, although rejected at the time, are now coming to fruition as I find that I’m ready to “put myself out there”, so to speak.

With one blind date under my belt, I was feeling pretty confident. It went well. I didn’t make a total ass of myself nor did I trip in my high heels. Moreover, I think I may have even managed to eat sushi without looking like a chipmunk which, as any sushi eater knows, is a testament to my decision to order the small tuna roll rather than the tuna amazing roll or valentine roll that I really wanted ability. You don’t want to be that girl. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. No one wants to look like an overfed rodent on their first date.

But I digress.

As I was saying, I was feeling pretty confident until one of my co-workers offered to set me up on another date. Actually, at that point I was still feeling confident. My debonair attitude evaporated as soon as the plans were cemented and I was invited to a group outing. I would be meeting my potential at a bar in Seaside, NJ.

In my opinion, there are a few cracks in this plan:

(1)  I am from Point Pleasant, NJ (a.k.a the Jersey Shore). I try my hardest not to frequent Seaside. Especially since the tv show has come out. I am not a guidette. I do not fist pump. And I can’t even remember the last shot I took (excluding Fireball because, let’s face it, that stuff is delicious and barely even qualifies). I try not to stereotype, and it’s not really fair of me because I live a mere 20 minutes up Route 35, but honestly it’s just too ingrained and I can’t help it. 24 years of my parents telling me that Seaside is dirty and corrupt and that old needles wash up on the beach there can’t be easily erased.

(2)  This is a group outing. Not super fond of group outing blind date-ish things, or whatever this is or may turn out to be. I’m more of a fan of the one-on-one dinner. Not coffee (that’s for your girlfriends). Not lunch (see previous comment). Dinner. A nice meal and a nice glass of wine and two people talking. I think it is easier to cut to the chase this way. We have things in common or we don’t. I’m attracted to you or I’m not. He’s a complete idiot or he isn’t. One dinner can tell you a lot. One post-9:30pm evening in a bar? We’ll see.

(3)  I only know one other person attending this outing: the friend that set me up. I’m not a huge fan of going out with one person and only knowing them while they know multiple people. It’s not that I can’t talk to other people or make friends because oh can I talk. It’s just that I hate being the person that someone is responsible for. That sounds ridiculous, writing it out. One would think, “I am responsible for myself!” But you know what I mean. Basically, I don’t want to be a clinger. I will try my hardest to prevent this.

(4)  We’re meeting at a bar. In my experience, conversing is discouraged in most bars due to loud music and copious intakes of alcohol. Maybe not so much the latter...that probably loosens the lines of communication. Unless it’s one of those adorable pub-y like places (my favorite!) or some type of lounge (no.) it will probably be a little difficult to talk.

So now I’ve been a complete downer and outlined everything that could possible make my date unsuccessful. 35-year old me says this is completely realistic (didn’t you know, I am really 35 years old on the inside). 24-year old me says I should stop talking and just enjoy my night out with friends. Age doesn’t always equate to wisdom, you know.

Thus, I will follow my younger self’s advice. I will pick out a cute outfit (which I will still send to my best friend for approval), I will do my hair, and I will meet a guy at a bar at 9:30pm.

That’s way past my bedtime.

OT: The High Heel Test

Back in high school (or even college, for that matter), going on a date was a big deal. Like, a really big deal. Firstly, one must endure a multitude of confusing, code-like text messages to even obtain said date. Or worse, a pseudo-friend-like relationship that takes half of freshman year to even turn into anything that would result in a date. And then, once you succeed in planning the date, you must get your nails done, various body parts waxed (if you're into that), and buy a new outfit which you end up spending WAY too much money on (hello, credit card debt). More than half the time, the date turns into nothing more than a free meal and two hours of awkward conversation. Other scenarios include on-and-off-again dating, the occasional one night stand, long term relationships (if you are lucky) and maybe even marriage (so I've heard!) -- but these are much less likely.

Flash forward to adult daing. Once you've been in at least one semi-decent relationship, you tend to realize your self worth. You stop thinking that you're not attractive/skinny/funny enough and start realizing that you are, in fact, pretty awesome and anyone who disagrees can go scratch (you never liked them anyway). This results in much less fanfare. You're mother/sister/brother/co-worker/friend/etc says they want to hook you up with so-and-so and so you do a little Facebook stalking and willingly consent to let them set you up. This time around, you still buy a new outfit (which you send to your bestie for approval), but you skip the other nonsense. Heck, you may not even shave your legs groom certain areas to prevent....bad decisions. Grow up you is much more socially responsible.

This leads to my current state of events: my first, post long-term relationship date and why I am a terrible person.

I like to employ a little something called the "high heel test". I am 5' 6" (and 1/2"!!). I wear high heels (almost every day, actually -- thank you accounting career). This makes me between 5' 9" and 5'11". If a guy is not taller than this, he fails the test (apologies to vertically challenged men everywhere -- I am usually not this much of an asshole). My friends laugh at me for this, but it is an unfortunate requirement. And also why I am a terrible person.

Back to my date. I arrive first, five minutes early (because I have a problem called "I am always early"). I also ask to be seated, guessing at the reservation name (because I have a second problem called "I always drink wine while I wait"). Upon my date's arrival, I stand to greet him...and slightly tower over him. He notices this and fails to conceal it on his face. Lovely. And now I am feeling like a goon. The waiter comes over to take drink orders, and date orders a green tea. And now I am feeling like an achoholic. We peruse through the small talk, mostly with me carrying the conversation and discover (at least I discover) that we have pretty much nothing in common (actually, not sure if he know this or not). He doesn't like reading (how is this possible??). I doubt he watches the news. In conclusion, I could possibly eat him alive.

Lastly, we order dessert. I, having not had dessert in two weeks, devour mine (one does not abandon flourless chocolate cake!). Date claims his dessert is heavy and eats half. And now I am feeling like a fatty.

We leave. I make it across the street without killing myself on the ice.

Conclusion: I'm glad I went out. It's nice not spending the umpteenth night in with your dog, alone, and actually having a nice dinner.  It's also nice to get a little practice.

Notes for next time? Maybe wear the less high high heels :-)

OT: Relationship Goggles

If you've ever dated anyone for an extended period of time (in a loving and committed relationship) you realize that, as time passes, you become less and less aware of things going on outside of your relationship bubble.

When going out for a night on the town, so to speak, with your significant other, you would tend to focus on just that -- your significant other. Not the Brad Pitt look-a-like on the other side of the bar, or the creepy guy trying to sit in your vicinity, or who's married and who isn't. Really, you're just focused on your relationship and having a nice time with your other half. Maybe you're a little focused on the pushy girl with no morals who is trying to scam on your man (maybe!), but that's about it. Otherwise, it's just about the two of you.

I am naming the phenomenon described in the preceding paragraph: Relationship Goggles. Brethren to beer goggles, although the googly eyes and fuzzy feeling that fills you briefly and lowers your otherwise decent standards in the former is replaced with a similar googly-eyed and fuzzy feeling associated with being "happily in a relationship" in the latter. This, my friends, is an all-too-common relationship benefit hazard which lingers uncomfortably for an unspecified amount of time whence you find yourself out of said happy relationship.

Case and point: I just celebrated my 5-month unversary and have been rediscovering how much I enjoy frequenting the local watering holes with my friends. With my training wheels still on, I notice time and time again the frequency of which my girlfriends are approached by new potential prospects. I am just beginning to notice this as my relationship goggles are finally fading and I am becoming more open to the idea of talking to the opposite sex let alone being in the same room with them. (I would say up until month 4 I reverted to my 8 year-old self and decided that boys had cooties, which were very contagious and could be transmitted by being within 5 feet of anyone with a you know what [friends and coworkers excluded]).

It was just after this point when I realized how disgustingly rusty I am! I am (a) oblivious to any male trying to approach me -- definite side-effect of recent relationship goggles, (b) in desperate need of a filter -- those tend to fall to the wayside after a 5 year pseudo-marriage, and (c) mortified by the fact that I have absolutely no cute clothes to wear "out" anymore as they have all been replaced by suits, slacks, cardigans, and black pumps -- this is what I get for being an accountant.

I am working on all of this.

I have also learned some valuable lessons over the past week. (1) Do not approach the prospect -- they will approach you...and you don't need to go looking all desperate. (2) Do not interrupt another female while she is talking to a male no matter how much you want to interject (yes, there is another word for this and see previous comments about obtaining a filter). (3) Do talk to everyone because practice makes perfect, people. (4) Do go shopping when you decide your closet is empty. And (5) do dance when someone asks you to, even if it's a completely ridiculous song to which it is only appropriate to jump around to.

Whew! It is hardly fair how certain skills fall to the wayside when they are not being put to use. This whole new single thing makes me feel like I got sent back to kindergarten and have to learn how to write my name all over again. I do, however, have one thing going for me: I am happy. And happy girls are most certainly the prettiest girls (thank you, Audrey Hepburn).

Here's to looking forward to next week's adventures.

OT: These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

No, I'm not going to sing it in the form of The Sound of Music (although, I have been to Salzburg). Lately, I have been feeling very grateful for and content with my life. I'm sure this feeling has something to do with the passing score I received on my second to last part of the CPA exam and pending homeowner status (6 days!). Happiness, like other habits (good or bad), is contagious. I think it's important to know what brings joy into your life. This way, your supply can be replenished if it is, for some reason, depleted. The following is a list of things that I find keep my happiness at optimum levels:

1. The beach. Everything about it. The smell and feel and state of mind. You can take the kid out of the beach but you can't take the beach out of the kid, right?
2. Hot chocolate. Whenever I am forced to do something unpleasant (i.e. study), I always make a mug of hot cocoa. How can you be bummed when you are drinking the happiest drink on earth (alcohol excluded -- see number 15)? The answer is, you can't. 
3. Coasters.
4. And monogramming. Better yet, monogrammed coasters. Yes, this is where my preppy seeps out. 
5. Sailing. Nothing a good sail can't fix. What is better than harnessing the elements? It's like magic. Or physics. Magic sounds better. 
6. Tea and coffee. Hot and cold. 
7. My dog.  This should really be number 1. 
8. The sound of the mountains in the snow. And being outside in general. 
9. Any type of road trip. Or adventure. 
10. Radiohead, Iron & Wine, Dave Matthews Band. And this would be where my inner-hippie makes its appearance. Most music, in general, makes me happy. 
11. Food. Good food. I am not a salad girl. Deal with it. 
12. Flannels and beanie hats. See previous comments about inner-hippie. 
13. Dresses. (So now you're probably thinking I'm bipolar). 
14. Philosophical conversations. Debates. Especially with friends, and good friends at that. Nothing better than a good, thought-provoking conversation.
15. Champagne. Bubbly and delicious. Best when paired with #14. 
16. Hosting parties and bringing people together. 
17. Learning. I would be a professional scholar if I could. I suppose accountant is a good close second...or third...or somewhere on the list. 
18. Lazy Sundays. Not experiencing much of these lately due the nearing final exam part and big girl house purchase. Hopefully will resume soon. 
19. Cards. There's is something special about a beautiful card. If there is an occasion out there, there is a chance I have bought someone a card for it. 
20. Good sheets. Feeling like you're sleeping on clouds each night is worth the splurge. 

So, there you have it. My list of happiness. I try to employ as many of these as often as I can. When you have a stressful job and life, it helps to focus on the bright side of things. We create our own luck. Best to be in the right mindset to do it.

OT: Best Friends and Bridge Burning

Looking back on my life, I think it's safe to say that I've always been somewhat of a loner. I have friends, of course, (this is where my sister would interject: really? I never knew!) but I never had a best friend. At least, not the kind where you are totally BFFs4E and you do everything together and refer to each other as the girl version of your soul mate and buy matching necklaces and so on and so forth. 

I've had the same handful of "best friends" (plural, not singular)  pretty much since middle school. What made (and makes) it hard was that all of my best friends weren't also best friends (i.e. we didn't have the Sex and the City thing going). Honestly, some of them didn't (and don't) even like the others...which makes my life difficult. How can I have a girls' night with my friends when they all don't enjoy each others company as much as I enjoy theirs? I don't exactly fit in with any of their individual groups of friends either. I mean, I'm down for going out and meeting new people but there's only so much awkwardness I can take at one time. Lastly, the majority of them have moved (or are in the process of moving) out of the state. Again, this makes my life difficult.

I realize I'm being a little selfish here. But what's not selfish? Always jumping for your friends. Being where they ask you to be. Supporting them. Participating in their charities. Worrying about them. Carrying their drunk asses back to the car. Flying across the country to see them. Always wishing them a happy birthday or anniversary or whatever. Keeping their secrets. Not judging their significant others or sex lives or drug habits substance issues and everything else on top of that. Those things don't suck. But what does? Not having the favor returned. Having your friends not be there when you need them to be. Even if it's just over the phone. Realizing that these people are not going to jump for you. That fucking blows.

So when do you cut them off? When do you tell them that your friendship is not a partnership and you are done wasting your time? When do you tell them they are not being very friend-like? When do you give up on them and move on to your new friends? When do you burn the bridge? Or, do you burn the bridge?

I don't know the answer. Also, I was never a very big fan of bridge-burning.


(soundtrack: "city" by sara bareilles)

OT: Do You Believe in Rock and Roll

My sophomore year of college, I took a writing class at NYU. I don't remember the name of the class or the teacher. All I recall is that the guy looked like Jay-Z and wore Nike high-tops, jeans and a 59Fifty hat to class every day. He would give us a ten minute writing assignment at the beginning of each class. Most memorable of all of them was the following: Pick a line from a song and write about it.

I chose the following:
"Do you believe in rock and roll; Can music save your mortal soul?"

This line, of course, is from American Pie and the answer to both questions was (and is), undoubtedly, yes.

I didn't chose this verse because I'm some huge Don McLean fan or even remotely because I'm a fan of 70's music. I chose it because of the honesty behind it.

Music is magical. The way it creeps into your soul and gives you goose bumps. It transports you to the past...or maybe to the future, if you can look at it that way. It makes your heart...not ache, but pulse. It is the co-conspirator of wanderlust. It is, in a way, serendipitous. Stumbling upon a genius song without having bothered to look for it is perfection. A good song can lift you out of the darkest of depths or push you to the highest of highs. It is an outlook modifier and a game changer. And best of all: music releases endorphins, you know.

Next time you're feeling sad. Or lonely. Or happy. Or excited/anxious/nostalgic/and so forth; pop on a song. NOT your favorite song. This is the key here. The song needs to not be overplayed or overly-popular. It needs to be a treasure; hidden and possibly forgotten about. This is where you dig through your iTunes library or, better yet, put it on shuffle (now that's dangerous). Keep clicking next until you hear that opening that makes your heart pulse and your goose bumps rise and your mind wander.

Found it? Enjoy the mortal soul saving.


(soundtrack: "to be alone with you" by sufjan stevens)

OT: Run, Forrest, Run

I have never been a runner. I have never even been anything close to a runner. I am still not a runner. Sure, I was active in high school: I played field hockey and tennis. I was actually pretty decent at both of them and was captain of my field hockey team until I quit during sophomore year because, well, I didn't like running.

That's when I started playing tennis, which involves so much focus that I didn't even have time to think about the exercise I was doing. I had a tennis trainer and he made me run a lot, but I loved the sport so much that I didn't really mind. Plus, I was like seventeen and who is out of shape when they are seventeen anyway.

Then, I went to college, discovered alcohol and other poor habits, gained 15lbs (and then lost it, and then gained it...), and gave up on exercising all together. Yeah, I went to the gym, but I never really went to the gym. I wasn't one of those people who was going to absolutely die if I didn't make it to the gym or to my pilates class. I just kind of went when I felt like it.

And...here we are.

I'm still not a runner, gym-goer, or fitness junkie. I am, however, a pretty excellent walker. I walk every day. Same route. 1.5 miles. This exercise habit was completely unintentional. When I became the most awesome woman alive single 3 months ago, I realized that someone was going to have to walk my dog, Henry, and that someone was most certainly going to be me. So, I started walking. At first, it was a chore. Another thing on my to-do list. But over time, it became something I very much looked forward to. Sitting at my desk at work, I would think about how nice it will be to get home and walk Henry and be outside and not be stuck in my mole-cave of a cubicle. It actually turned into one of my favorite parts of the day (next to lunch).

Not so long ago, I was walking Henry on our usual route and something dawned on me: I can do this faster. The thought kind of shocked me. Faster? Are you on something? What are these thoughts and what have you done with my brain? But I thought about it some more and realized I probably could do it faster. I had been walking the same distance for 3 months and it was time to up the ante a tad.

Which brings us to tonight.

I, the worst runner in the world, ran (at super-human snail speed) with my dog along our usual route. I didn't make it the whole distance (don't judge!) but I followed the advice of a good friend of mine (and fantastic runner) -- pick a point along your route and tell yourself, I can make it to that. So I did. And I made it. And Henry was absolutely fantastic! Which is a huge surprise because he is such a spaz and I was wondering if we were even going to make it to running at all, but we did! It was like he knew I was serious about this and that it was something I needed to do and he just trotted alongside and listened perfectly. I was very proud of him. And I am also very proud of me.

I was a little hesitant to write this because I didn't want it, under any circumstance, to sound like I was saying I am something I am not...or that I am good at something I am not. But I think that tonight might be the start of an excellent adventure, so I decided to document it. My philosophy is this: I have to walk my dog. If I can get it done a little faster, well, go me.

Until next time, kids.

(soundtrack: "schoolboy" by grouplove)