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...