Bex and Blessings

Counting your blessings on a daily basis is sometimes difficult for a pessimist like me. 2009 has been tumultuous, to say the least, and riding out the waves of this year have left me feeling like I’m drowning at times. Nevertheless, it’s Thanksgiving and when all is said and done, I have a pretty amazing life. At the risk of seeming extraordinarily cheesy, here is a list of things I am truly thankful for:

…Thanks, mom, for your unconditional love and support. I feel so fortunate that you are the first person I want to call with exciting news and the only person I want to talk to when life goes terribly wrong. I love calling you on Sunday mornings to recap my weekend while I’m still in bed, love that you play equal parts mother and best friend, and love that you love me so ferociously that it seems like you absorbs my feelings, both good and bad.

…Thanks, CJ, for your amazing sense of humor and for showing me that the word “disability” only applies to people that let it. Thank you for being Elton John to my Kiki Dee during our duets to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” Being your sister is my biggest blessing.

…Thanks to my amazing girl friends for choosing to love me even when I’m at my most stubborn and irrational. Thank you for hours-long talks dissecting and analyzing relationships, tragedies, life decisions and everything in between. Thanks for laughing over bottles of wine and gifting me toy punching bags that swear when I hit them. Thanks for traveling the world with me, introducing me to road races, chanting Britney & Gaga songs with me at the top of our lungs, and for generally being my extended family.

…To my guy friends, thank you for proving to me that, even though there are huge assholes in the world (and that it seems that I have dated most of them), there are still men who know the real meaning of integrity and loyalty. Thanks for offering a different perspective and a pinch of tough love when I need it the most.

…Thank you, Boston, for being my home. I feel lucky every single day to live in my favorite city in the world, and I truly never get tired of the view from the MGH stop on the Red Line or walking through the Common on weekday mornings. Thank you for Fenway Park, running paths along the Charles, and every last sketchy Irish pub in the city.

…Thanks, kickball, for reminding me to not take myself too seriously and for making me remember that I love being part of a team.

…Thanks, legs, for carrying me through mile after mile and letting me run off pain, heartbreak, and frustration.

…Thank you to my family in California: to my older cousins for sneaking me sips of beer and defining my idea of “cool” when I was growing up, to my younger cousins for being two of my best friends even though we live a country apart, and to my aunt and uncle for being such great role models. I am thankful that our family is cancer-free and I am praying and remaining positive for a quick recovery for my Uncle Bruce.

…Thanks, Ipod, for being the miracle that carries my sanity (aka, favorite music) during my commute, at the gym, and everywhere else.

...Thank you, Old Saybrook, for being the place I most belong, for having sandbars and scallop shells, and for providing a place for my family to come together and bond. Thank you, Grandpa, for having the foresight to know that we would need a place like this.

...And lastly, thank you to whoever decided to let me have my health, a great place to live, and a job that provides me with funds to see my favorite bands, buy pumpkin pie ice cream, and hit the town for day drinking or bar hopping with my favorite people.

Happy Thanksgiving! :-)

Bex and Breaking Hearts

I've been drafting this post in my head for almost a week now, and I'm finally (fairly) confident that I can type it out without even the slightest hint of tear in my eye. Being in your mid-20s, I guess, is all about taking chances: professional chances, chances on friendships and trust, and chances in love.

I've taken some pretty big leaps in the past two years, starting a new job, captaining my own sports team, meeting new people and learning more about myself along the way. The one area in my life that I constantly feel confused about is love. I have dated and dated and dated. I've dated quiet, work-focused guys, and crazy, outgoing guys, and some guys just because they were really freaking hot. Other than the big ex, none of them (really, none) have affected me the way that Ted did.

When you end a relationship with someone, especially when you don't want it to be over, it is the most helpless feeling in the world. I've had to do it twice in the past year and each time was heartbreaking. I don't think I'm alone in the fact that I think really hard about what I've done wrong, how I could have been better, what I could have given them that would have made them love me more. The absolute worst aspect of the end of my relationship with Ted is that there was nothing I could have done, nothing that I've learned from the breakup. For once, the line "it's not you, it's me," actually applied to a girl. It was him: his issues, his inability to commit, his confusing and ass-backward explanation for everything that had happened between us.

Even knowing that, I'm still searching for reasons why. How can someone be sending you pictures of the sunset from their camera phone and then be breaking up with you three days later, saying that they don't want to put the effort into a relationship with you? How can someone exhibit such contradictory behavior, opening car doors and being a gentleman one minute and ignoring you for his friends whenever the next? And how can someone who so obviously needs help push away the one grounding and steady influence in his life?

More than anything, I'm worried about him. I hate that a breakup means the end of contact with that person. I hate that I have to use Facebook comments as my only connection to analyze whether our breakup helped alleviate the pressure and depression or whether he's gotten worse. I hate that I have absolutely no idea if any of his friends know how unhappy he is, and I hate that I can't tell them to ask him how he's doing, really, without betraying a trust that isn't ours anymore.

And guess what? I'm also worried about myself. My two oldest friends have called me this week to tell me they are getting married and having a baby, respectively. I know, at 27, that I'm not exactly old. I know that it's absolutely wrong to pressure yourself into believing that you've missed your chance to fall in love. But it's devastating to see your friends find what you want so badly, as you make mistake after mistake, and struggle to have even one functional and meaningful relationship.

My hope is that I'll look back on this post sometime in the near future and realize that I shouldn't have worried so much. A part of me still believes that I'll keep meeting people until I meet the right person and just know. But I'm also afraid that, especially given my apparent need to close people out when they care about me, I'll miss that opportunity.

Bex and [Almost] Sabotaging Relationships

I've met someone. As is typical in my life, the entire romance happened completely ass-backward, but for once, it seems that I've met someone who embraces my flaws and is willing to stick with me long enough to figure out just how I operate.

Ted and I met through mutual friends in February at a Bruce Springsteen cover band show. He's pretty rambunctious (read: loud) and I had been warned by friends that I may find him a little "much." We made it through that night with relatively little drama and/or interaction, which I guess prompted him to completely forget who I was when I met him again at a friend's graduation party in May. We spent most of that event completely hating each other as we played an extremely competitive game of volleyball (of course, we were on opposite teams). Apparently, even a vitriolic spat over volleyball was not enough to make Ted remember who I was. Two months later, while attending a party on the Cape, Ted walked up and introduced himself to me. For the third time. In six months. Are you serious? I was pissed.

In what I now realize is classic Ted, he spent the entire weekend trying to make it up to me. In what I've always known is true Rebes fashion, I pretty much did everything I could to push him away, including making fun of him when he (jokingly) proposed marriage, telling him to shut up when he told me how beautiful I was, and basically completely ignoring him. Thankfully, at the last possible moment, there was some drunken dancing in the basement of my friends' rented Cape house that showed me how completely in sync Ted and I were -- and how much fun I could potentially have with this kid. Alas, no numbers were exchanged because Ted, completely rationally, thought I despised him.

Cut to Monday morning. I am at work, thinking about what an idiot I am. I have been complaining for months about the shortage of attractive, funny, outgoing men in the Boston area. Finally, someone fitting that description shows an intense interest, and I tell him I hate him? Rebes, ftw. Just kidding. I had to do what any normal 20-something would do in this situation. I Facebook stalked him. And somehow this led to a date. Probably the best date of my life. Which led to another date (in which he drove into the fire hydrant next to my driveway, causing $4,000 worth of damage to his car). And now we've beend dating for more than a month. I have no idea where this is going, but I do know I'm having fun, I'm dating someone how actually pays attention to me, and I really hope I don't fuck this up.

Bex Being Bummed Out

Someone hit me with the grumpy stick this week. You'd think that the sunny, gorgeous weather would lift my spirits a bit, but I'm having a hard time focusing at work and putting things into perspective.

Needless to say, I've been listening to this song on repeat all day. Somewhere in my brain, the lyrics are relevant to my life even though I'm pretty sure I haven't been through a recent breakup.

My fingers are crossed that my witty self will be back joking about my drama tomorrow, but in the meantime, join me in my melancholy and enjoy Taylor Swift.

Bex and Balance

My crew. Lynsey and Jay. In the past year, I've done pretty much everything with these two. Birthdays, trivia nights, weekends at the beach, concerts, drunken debauchery... we've done it all. They've seen me go crazy over the guys I've dated, listened while I cried when life doesn't take the course I really want, and laughed with me (ok, and at me) when I have a life freakout over just about anything.

2/3 of my crew have fairly recently started dating people. Obviously, I am the 1/3 that remains dateless. They are two of the best people I could ask to have in my life, and I am terrified that their impending serious relationships are going to completely change our group dynamic.

What do I do to stop myself from becoming a proverbial fifth wheel? No matter how many times I am reassured that I am a big part of each of their respective lives, the hard truth is that boyfriends and girlfriends change things. Not only do I not deal well with change, I do not deal well with the threat of being placed in the back seat in the social lives of two of my favorite friends. I'm seriously struggling with the natural inclination to be happy that the pair of them have found (potential) love and throwing a hissy fit that I can't rely on them 100% to be up for a Saturday afternoon movie or grabbing drinks after work anytime I want.

I'm hoping the wedding of a dear old friend, a fabulous concert, and some quality beach time this weekend will bring clarity and help settle my discomfort with this situation.

Foxy Fridays: Bex Goes Country

The rain has finally FINALLY stopped in Boston (at least for one day). There's no better time than a sunny summer day to forget that you're sitting in an office and pretend that you're at a bbq in Georgia with a hot cowboy instead. Here are some songs to get you started in on that daydream. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Bex and Dinner with an Ex

Sushi with the most recent relationship close-call. Last night. Life is so weird. I am officially 100% convinced that the best way to get over an ex is to cut off communication completely. After three months of radio silence, I was finally at a point where I could sit across a table, eat raw fish, and listen to this boy talk about making out with other girls without throwing up in my mouth. And it was actually fun. Who am I again?

Bex and the Beach

Ugh. I'm a horrible blogger. I had great intentions of updating while I was in Connecticut for the Fourth, but I got side tracked. Like the time Joey decided to stay in Capeside with Dawson, but then realized she was in love with Pacey and sailed off around the Atlantic with him instead. Sorry, Daws, she really had good intentions, but Joe had to follow her heart. And I had to follow my heat-seeking skin and liver to the beach where there was sun and beer. I'm so healthy.

(That's what I was up against. ^)

Anyways, time to stop comparing my life to Dawson's Creek. But wait. Who am I kidding? It's never time to stop the DC parallels. Since nothing exciting is going on in my real-time love life, why not drudge up some old loves and relate them to characters from my favorite TV show? That doesn't seem lame and/or boring at all, right?

Let's talk about my first real love, aka Jack McPhee. I first laid eyes on Real Life Jack as I was cruising the streets of our beach association, barefoot and (probably) in pigtails. Suddenly, a boy darted in front of me, picked up an injured bird, nursed it back to life and turned out to be gay six years later.

Not one to be deterred so easily, I took the news of my love's sexuality and decided to transfer my affections to his brother. Young love -- so fickle. Beach brother turned out to be my Real Life Dawson, declaring his love, holding my hand on the sandbars, and being a truly huge moron when it came to making any kind of physical move on me. Unfortunately, in a turn of true Dawson-ness, brother uttered some insanely awkward and overthought words during a viewing of Muppets in Space and I broke up with him, leading him to hibernate and not eat for days. (Seriously! I was apparently a super vixen at 13. It sucks to peak young.)

Depressingly, there was not another brother for me to seduce or pine for over the cold winter months. Read: no Real Life Pacey Witter. Where are you, my Pacey? I live in freaking Boston, which is only forty-five minutes from Capeside  Cape Cod. Your type must wander into the big city to party every once in a while, no? Come hang out and save me from my sad life spent living vicariously through 1990s teen dramas. It would really help with the post-vacation slump... I'll be waiting.

Bex: Independence Day-Style

If you know me, you might know that I have a slight obsession with watermelon margaritas. Not like a Betty Ford addiction. I just really like them. Props to my girl, the fabulous Bartendress J, for introducing me to these summery delights.

For Foxy Friday: Edition II, I bring you a slight variation to the classic watermelon marg (thanks, Martha!). Throw some blueberries in there and rock a red, white, and blue drink. Enjoy! I know I'll be sipping these every day for my entire five-day extended weekend.

Have a happy and safe 4th of July, everyone!

Watermelon Basil Margaritas

You need:

7.5 lbs. seedless watermelon, rind removed, cut into 1-inch cubes

4 lbs. superfine sugar

6 oz. silver tequila (!)

24 fresh basil leaves

3 oz. triple sec

6 cups small ice cubes

Do:

1. Place 24 watermelon cubes on baking sheet, cover with parchment, and freeze for one hour.

2. Puree remaining watermelon and sugar in a blender until smooth. Pass through a sieve lined with cheesecloth into a bowl.

3. Place tequila and basil in a glass pitcher and crush with a spoon. Stir in watermelon juice and triple sec.

4. Add frozen watermelon "ice cubes" and DRINK!

Bex and Boys That Are Friends

Remember in second grade when your teachers would make you define an intangible emotion by brainstorming metaphors? Like "happiness is... extra jimmies on my ice cream cone, finding out you don't need excessively large glasses, sitting at the cool kids' lunch table and/or not peeing my pants today." Well, when you're 26, sadness is... being dateless since early March.

My remedy for my single-itis is a daily dose of my male friends. I don't know when I finally became capable of being friends with boys, but I'm pretty excited about it. In the college years, all the boys I grew friendly with were mere fodder for my clueless notion that I would have a Ross/Rachel type romance that would magically sprout from a platonic relationship. I'd be placed in the male friend zone (naturally, as I was treating them like friends), I'd get pissed, I'd get pissed while drunk and freak out that they didn't think I was good/pretty/funny enough and voila -- no more boys that are friends.

Clearly, judging by recent developments, I've made strides in the male friends department. Not only am I challenging myself to remain friends with past hookups/boyfriends/romantic interests with the BCP, I can honestly say that I have forged some truly excellent friendships with guys in the past couple years. They'll take driving duty on two-hour road trips, bring my car in for inspection (because don't all ladies hate taking care of their vehicles? I do.), offer to install my air conditioner and enlighten me on the utterly disgusting, yet equally as fascinating, Bacon Explosion. (Click that link. You need to know that this exists.) At the risk of sounding like a damsel in distress, that shit is f'ing valuable and also mainly unavailable from my girls.

I just reread those last few sentences and now realize that it sounds like I totally use my guy friends for favors. So not true. Simply put, guys just possess a wealth of knowledge on topics that you can't usually discuss with your gal clique. Cars, tools, and most importantly, the male pysche. Like, you don't understand guys? Get guy friends a la PJ from My Boys (or me, of course) and you will understand faster than Michael Phelps can swim. They'll explain to you that men just do not spend hours analyzing their last date or most recent breakup. If things in their love life are going well, then sweet; if not, screw that, let's have some beer and drink it off and/or deny that it ever happened.

No joke, I have amazing guy friends, and their perspective on everything has helped to make me less sensitive, increased my ability to think like a guy, and laugh in the face of drama. At least a little bit. Baby steps. So thank you, my boys that are friends. Happiness is... you.

Bex and A Half-Ass Attempt at Self-Help

Last year, my mother gave me The Secret in the not-so-secret hope that it would improve my love life and minimize the time I spent spewing words of self-pity to her. In an attempt to rebel, I refused to read it. I knew the philosophy behind the book, though, so I couldn't stop my brain from formulating a list of what I truly could not live without in a man. Damn you, self-help craze.
The list includes:

1. Must be funny.

Not joke-y, upbeat ha-ha, but sarcastic humor. A man with wit. Someone who won't let me walk all over them. I can take insults and comebacks as long as they're said with love. And as long as we can make out after said insults.

2. Must love music.

Lord knows, this is my biggest weakness when it comes to men. If you can play the guitar or sing (or god forbid, both), I am done. If you read Rolling Stone religiously, like going to concerts, and have encyclopedic knowledge of bands, their hit singles, and the name of their lead singers, I am also done. I will commit myself to you for life. Bonus points if you can deal with the fact that I love Britney. The End.

3. Must put me in my place.

I can be difficult and ridiculous. Hypersensitive worry-wart, if you will. I need someone who is both supportive and unafraid to voice when I am being irrational. Seriously, tell me I am being crazy and I will love you.

4. Must want a family.
If you're not looking for the same thing, why waste your time? Am I right? A shared sense of values is imperative for a good match (duh). I've dated workaholics and perpetual bachelors both. The reason those relationships didn't work is because we simply did not value the same things. To be blunt, I want a secure family, great friends, and a fun life full of adventure with someone I love waaaay more than I want job recognition or the pleasure of hooking up with the entire male population of Boston. And I want someone who feels the same way.

5. Must be super-duper, insanely hot.

Jokes. But really, that physical chemistry needs to be there. I'm putting this last because I think the presence of the above attributes can make someone hot(ter), no? (No, not just Josh Duhamel, the actual list before his picture.) A good smile, nice eyes, and strong arms never hurt a guy, though.

What do you think? Is this list too ambitious? I think it's attainable. I've dated guys that possess one or some of #1 - 5. Just need to find the one who has them all (and whose list I match up with). It's tiring out there...

Bex and The Stars

Astrology and I are not BFF but, on a whim, I checked my daily reading today. Looks like Yahoo Horoscopes is encouraging The Billy Crystal Project:

You generally think of romantic matters in black and white; love or hate, on or off, etc. Cultivate an awareness of the shades of gray now -- there's something (or someone) you're overlooking.

Wait, am I going crazy?

Bex and Billy Crystal

If you are a girl and you haven't seen When Harry Met Sally, you have got some serious estrogen missing. Aside from Meg Ryan being incredibly adorable and Billy Crystal being ridiculous, it investigates the super played-out question: Can women and men really manage functional friendships without sex getting in the way? I know, I know... "Ugh, I am so bored," you are saying, "Hasn't every chick magazine covered this topic 124389 times?"

Yes, and too bad.

I am starting The Billy Crystal Project (BCP).

You've heard about Guitar. He's obviously not boyfriend material, a fact that was further illustrated at the end of last week when he told me that "relationships and marriage are overrated." The problem is I actually enjoy talking to him. We have a lot in common when we're not discussing his view on relationships as the downfall of society. He's funny and he has a brain. Am I supposed to barricade our friendship just because we happened to make out after about sixteen glasses of wine?

The old, pre-BCP me would have said yes. Cut him out. If he doesn't want to be with me romantically, he's worthless. But the thing is, I really think friendships with men who get you (for lack of a better phrase) can make your life better. And it can help you better understand other men, ones that have potential for a more serious relationship.

I'm a teensy bit worried for myself because, once I acknowledge an attraction for someone, I have a hard time disengaging from any romantic notions previously knocking around in my hyper-analytical brain. But in this case, I am going to say "F you, Billy Crystal." I think girls and guys can be friends. I think they can be great friends, even. I think Guitar and I can be friends. 1, 2, 3, here it goes...

Bex MJ-Style

Foxy Fridays
Calling out men that are dreamy and/or steamy, fashion that allows us girls to strut our stuff, delicious snacks or cocktails that are healthy and tasty.... If it makes me feel foxy, I'm passing along the love.

And whose music makes you feel foxier than the late, great MJ? Seriously, I have been waiting for some dude to break out into dance and serenade me with The Way You Make Me Feel since freaking 1987. Oh Michael, you were troubled, but you provided the MTV generation with so many classic hits. I don't know about you, but tonight I'm breaking out a white glove, some pelvic thrusts, and a red pleather jacket and having a dance party to this:




RIP MJ, your music is foxiness at its best.

Bex and Tucker Max: I Hope They Serve Beer in Heaven

I am puzzled. More confused than the time that tabloids reported that Britney was taking K-Fed on tour with her, Sean Preston, and Jayden James. (Why, Brit, why???) More perplexed, even, than when Pantene announced they were adding special minerals into my favorite brand of shampoo and these unwelcome additives made my hair feel like straw.

Why is it so hard to figure out what men want? I'm not talking about blonde vs. brunette, short vs. tall, Angelina vs. Jen. Let's face it, most men are on the prowl for a hook-up. And I have no (big) problem with that. But said men should take a page from the Tucker Max game plan and be honest about it. Tucker Max is an asshole, but as I read his book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell for my co-ed book group, I found myself admiring him for acknowledging that he's a douche. He wants ass and he's upfront about it. Girls know what they're getting into.

What I cannot stand are dudes that play the Bambi innocent card by trying to get in your pants by making a mental connection. We've already discussed Guitar. Thank Zeus, I have connections that inform me he is interested only in ass, because last night, I was handed this line:

Guitar: I know I sometimes come across as a goofus, but I can deliberate intellectually with the best of them. I just wanted you to know that. [Emphasis on "you."]
Me (internally): What the fuck? Does this kid honestly think I am going to fall for this line? Why am I falling for this line? I hate Bud Light Lime for making me even remotely mushy over this line. Kill me.
Me (out loud): Did you just use the word goofus?

If you want to sleep with me, I really don't want you telling me that you are interested in the classics and that your favorite book is For Whom the Bell Tolls. Nuggets of information like these make me envision how smart our future children will be and reading together in bed on a Sunday morning -- not, I repeat not, make me think that you only take interest in what is below my belt.

To this end, I'm going fishing for the best way to smell out these offenders. How can you tell when a guy is bullshitting you? Why can't they be more straightforward? Are they really proud after they've slept with a girl who really thinks they are into them, only to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night leaving only chick flicks and Ben & Jerry's as consolation?

Shit, for not understanding their motives, am I this girl?

Bex and Balls: Relationship No-Go's

As a marketing professional, I dedicate most of my 8 to 5 life to making decisions. The first stop for many of our projects is the "Go/No-Go Decision." I can't help but think that most women would benefit immensely from applying this method to dating. Let's face it: it's a jungle out there. Trying to find a normal guy worthy of valuable face time is as easy as Jordin Sparks or the Jonas Brothers. [Read: it's not.]

Just because a guy is funny, smart, dreamy or wealthy does not necessarily mean he is the right dude for you. I mean, I like hysterically funny guys but I'm not about to jump the next comedian I meet (hopefully) just because he tells jokes for a living. Here are some steps to applying a "Go/No-Go Decision" to your love life:

1. What are the benefits of dating [Dude]? Just as an architecture firm focused on healthcare probably wouldn't pursue a project at a major university, you should only be seriously interested in guys that complement you and your strengths. I learned this with a recent ex. He was so obsessed with jump-starting his career and making bank that our time was more about discussing his hours and bonus pay then doing anything fun. So not what I needed. As someone that is a bit more established in my career, our values were different. He told me I didn't understand his job, and he was probably right. I didn't understand why it was so important to him. Breakup followed.

   
   

2. How much time & energy are you willing to fork over to win [Dude]? Seriously, ladies, do your homework. Ask acquaintances -- is this guy a player? Did he just get out of a multi-year relationship and does he now want to spend the next year screwing everything with a vag? Better to find out now before you start wasting your cute new summer dresses and double length mascara on him. Do you know what happens to firms that don't do research like this on potential projects? They waste their money and resources and go bankrupt. And one word that I don't want used as a descriptor for my love life is bankrupt.
   
   
3. Who is your competition and do you have (or want) a fair shot against them? I inserted the word "want" here because sometimes it's just not worth it to go head to head with a crazy bitch who would strip herself of all dignity just to get in some dude's pants. I recently made out with a cute guy who seemed nice and played the guitar (this is very important -- guitar players are like crack cocaine to me). Shortly after, a mutual acquaintance started emailing, chatting, basically going semi-Glen Close in Fatal Attraction on him. Seriously? Fail. Not only do I pity this poor clueless girl, I am so not interested in guitar player due to the fact that he doesn't care that this girl is multiple shades of crazy. Who wins? Me. I have disentagled myself from this messy triangle and am now free to pursue other cute men (ahem, Irish).

Scary

I've gotten better at weeding out quality guys from the losers with age, but I'm still not there yet. Hopefully I'll take my own advice and start taking time to seriously consider my dating choices. Will you?

Bex and Ben/Boston Boys

Good Will Hunting pretty much ruined me for all men that aren't sarcastic, closed-off, and from Southie. My love affair with Ben Affleck began immediately upon viewing that classic Boston movie and has spanned track suits, messed up teeth, Bennifer and countless "bad" films. (I still maintain that Pearl Harbor was a fabulous epic saga.) To all the haters out there, Ben totally redeemed himself to me (and the rest of the world) by directing "Gone Baby Gone." And by marrying Jennifer Garner, a beautiful and classy lady who I would also wed if I were so inclined. End swoon.

Unfortunately, as My Ben is a celebrity who also happens to be committed for life to the body that launched Sydney Bristow, I am on the constant prowl for a comparable Boston hero. Enter Irish, a new acquaintance who not only sports adorable tweed hats, but is also so freaking cute and (most importantly) hysterically sarcastic. Case in point: I went to a pole dancing class (I know, I know...) as part of the bachelorette festivities for my college roommate, McDime. This hilarity ensued when I told Irish of my few hours as a stripper:

Irish: where did you find a place to strip?
Bex: i stripped in nyc. way more skanky than boston. i'll have to show you some of my moves [the next time i see you.]
Irish: please!!!! that's my job. i got moves. they call me white chocolate that doesn't melt in your mouth.

Oh my god. Am I delusional that I think this kind of humor is the biggest turn on in the world (aside from My Ben's white man 'fro, of course)? Can cute Irish boys from Boston really turn out to be both funny and nice, or are all of them emotionally restricted morons who make up thirteen siblings and only realize they are in love with you too late? (see also: Will & Skylar) Only time will tell... I want the answer to be yes as much as Morgan wants his double burger.

Bex and Marriage: The Luckiest

Despite having had some serious dirt to dish from this weekend, I am going to postpone discussion in order to focus a post around one of my favorite couples in the world.

Something slightly personal about me: My parents didn't have the best marriage (hence, divorcing) so any couple that has a relationship life span of more than 25 years deserves hero worship in my eyes.

Enter Ernie and Shirley Benard, dear family friends and grandparents of one of my oldest bffs, KB. Not only were they married forever, they had one of the most successful joint lives I've ever seen. They owned and operated The Moorings, a bed and breakfast in Falmouth on the Cape for a quarter of a century. Working AND living together -- and still being totally in love? We should all be so lucky.

Last spring, we were all extremely saddened when Shirley passed away from a brief illness. Honestly, Ernie was never the same. I got the sad news this past Friday that Ernie had also died. As my heart goes out to the entire Benard family, I can't help but be inspired by the great love that E & S maintained throughout their marriage. Their shared passions and values are exactly what I'm looking for. Who doesn't want a man that can literally not live without you?

With that, I'm dedicating this song to Ernie & Shirley. May your life with the big guy above be as full of love, dedication, and excitement as your life here on Earth. I'll always remember you here:

The Moorings

Let's Talk About Bex: It's Raining (Not) Men

Bonjour, mes ami[e]s! This blog is my attempt to laugh at myself, vent, learn from and document the extreme insanity that is my (dating) life. We can't all be SJP, running around with pink tutus, Manolos, and balloons, deciding between dating Mr. Big and Aidan. Some of us are taken on awful first dates here, or are dumped directly after purchasing a signed first-edition of someone's favorite book, or are simply meeting too many of these.

I admit it, I have flaws, but I'm searching for someone that tells me this:

And, lucky you, you all get to come along for the ride.