I’m just a girl in your cell phone, but you’re just a line in a blog.
I can’t remember if I have alluded to my man-a-month summer; a period of six (6) months where in fact, each month I had a new man I was telling my girlfriends about.. Sometimes good stories, but more often than not they were hilariously awful stories. Anyway when I mention this to some of my friends – guys and girls alike – they often mistake my terminology of choice thinking that something juicy happened when really it was quite the opposite. Now under normal circumstances I wouldn’t mind, but in the sense of the dating game a verbal misunderstanding can often turn into a blowup.
Let me explain: During my man-a-month summer I did indeed go out with 6 different men, but I did not ‘date’ them: No, I in fact conducted what I like to call an ‘interview’. To clarify, an ‘interview’ is what I refer to as the first few dates – i.e. 2 strangers meeting to see if a) there is a connection and b) if they can stand each other after the initial politeness wears off. My ‘interview’ process at best last three times; meaning the guy will have had three chances to impress me, and he will have had three chances for me to impress him. Interviews usually involve public places, rescue-me calls and code-words to get out of a terrible situation. This is what happened with The Cop, The Cameraman, The Organic Grocery Store Man and The Hippie. One coffee date was had with each, followed by either a mutual thank you and good-bye or a non-negotiable but still awkward ‘no thanks’ phone call or email.
Anyway, if we both pass the ‘interview’ stage, because remember; a relationship is a mutual selection process, then would I move on to the ‘seeing’ stage – where you’ve decided you like the person enough to continue, well, seeing them. This stage usually involves dinners at one persons place and slightly more personal conversation, not to mention the kiss. This is what happened with The Medic and The Teacher. After a few extra dates, well, in the life of Carrie, after this stage I would either transition into the ‘dating’ area (semi-exclusive and beginning introduction to friends and colleagues) and eventually reach ‘relationship’ status (the talk has been had and agreed upon) – or in both of those previous cases, neither man would ever call me again. Or was it I who forgot to call them? I can’t remember – but either way it ended and probably for the best, as if I can’t remember why or who forgot to call, they probably weren’t on my mind enough to make me want to date them.
So I guess a few of my friends incorrectly assumed that I ‘dated’ – meaning I went out with six men on three or more dates and kissed each and every one of them before deciding “Nope – just kidding! You can leave now, buh-bye!” Of course, this is not the case. That’s poor form. And apparently if you’re female, so is ‘dating’ (as defined above) six men in as many months. I mention this because the friends that misunderstood me and my intentions immediately labeled me as ‘one of those’ girls – loose, promiscuous, and even easy… Despite the fact that men do this all the time – and for some reason that’s perfectly acceptable.
A friend of mine once told me that it didn’t matter if a guy ‘liked’ this one particular girl – he’ll still flirt with you and try to win you over as well. Why? Because guys go for multiple girls at a time – and I gotta hand it to you men: This idea is golden. Its brilliance lies in its simplicity: It’s all about statistics. The more you play the field, the better chances you’ll have to find the right person for you, or in some cases, you’ll have to get laid. So why is it ok for guys to ‘date’ that way based on how well it works and how intelligent it really is, but it’s not ok for us girls to do so as well?
Before anyone gets mad at me – I’m not referring to those kinds of girls that I mentioned above. You know, the ones that prey on men’s stupidity by going to the bar wearing practically nothing and flirting in order to get drinks, dinners, even jewelry and clothing but never letting anything go further? Yeah – No. I’m talking about those of us, male and female, who legitimately try to find the right person but are incorrectly judged as promiscuous based on the methods we chose to engage in during our search. We’re not being promiscuous; we’re being smart. We’re actually using that statistics crap we’ve been taught in lecture to our benefit!
But in the end it doesn’t really matter what those friends of mine think – They’re usually my bitterly single friends who complain about never being able to find a date, or how terrible the other sex is, or when they DO get a date have it spiral into friendship. This masculine form of dating is not only intelligent – it works. At least, it did for me.
But that post will come later.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Ask and Ye Shall Wait...
… or Go Get It and Save Yourself the Trouble
I don’t ask for a lot of things. I’m stubborn like that. I’d rather do something for myself or get something by myself rather than have to rely on someone else to do it for me. Perhaps it is a cynical view I carry that really, the only person you can rely on is yourself, but think about it. If you need something, say a cup of coffee or a manicure, I am not the kind of person to wait for it to come to me or project my needs onto whoever is closest to me when it would take less effort to stand up and get it myself. From what I have experienced thus far, people are too busy worrying about what they have to do than to really take the time to do something for you, so why bother when it’s nothing off your back to do it? Having to work around someone else’s priorities sounds a hell of a lot harder than working around your own, and at least you’ll have an idea of when whatever you need will be done. A few of my friends refer to this belief as my innate independence; I just see it as common sense, and I can’t be the only one.
I was having dinner with Pete one night and we got to talking about how I somehow managed to break my TV by turning it off on a Thursday night after “The Office” and “Grey’s Anatomy”. He had asked me if I was planning on getting it fixed, to which I replied “well I don’t know” and still don’t know. Although it being an inopportune time, seeing how “Grey’s Anatomy” is now on for 3 hours a week, (same as a standard university lecture; coincidence? I think not!), getting my television fixed would require me having to rely on a few things: first, a TV repair man, if they even still exist, and having to work around his schedule or even worse have to lug the damn thing somewhere in my non-existent car with my not-so-legal-by-myself license, so second someone else with a car and a heart of gold. Neither option was too pleasing to me, so until a better one pops into my head I’m just not going to do anything about it.
This made Pete burst out laughing at my natural stubbornness, mentioning that he a) has a car and b) would be willing to take me to get it fixed. However, Pete knows me pretty well and through his chuckles threw out there that I would “carry that thing on your back and drag it down the street yourself!” his emphasis on yourself. I know that eventually I will break down and get my television fixed, or buy a new one, but still… it does not take away from the fact that I do not like to ask or rely on anybody else for anything.
Now I admit there are a few things that I simply cannot do for myself and thus rely on other people. Brazilians for example. I mean, I guess I could do it in theory, however I cannot inflict that much pain upon myself willingly, thus I pay almost 50$ every 5 weeks for my waxer to do it for me. I also can’t drive, but living in the city not many twenty-something students do who live on their own. So I rely on the bus to get me places that I can’t or really shouldn’t walk to. And finally, I cannot survive without my friendships which means in the end relying on other people. It is true that no woman is an island, but at the same time there is nothing stopping any capable girl (or guy for that matter) from being independent and self-reliant.
I guess it’s the “some else will do it” mentality that plagues a percentage of the population, tying into the fact that nobody cares what happens so long as it doesn’t happen to them, but if it does well someone better be there to fix it and that someone better not be me! It’s a shame that the percentage of this lazy population is unfairly clumped into my generation, the twenty-something Echo’s of the Baby Boomers who to some people gave us everything except the value of hard work. Granted yes, the majority of these lazy freeloaders I speak of are in my generation, but I know quite a few people in my age-range who gladly work for their own money, clean their own apartments, maintain their own cars, and basically are as independent as a twenty-something student can be. That being said, I’ve run into more than my fair share of sponges who create messes but refuse to even acknowledge them, let alone clean them up for themselves.
I know a few people who believe that it is much easier for another person to do whatever needs to be done and for some things I agree. It is much easier to have someone clean your apartment, for example, or for someone to cook for you and change your light bulbs 2 months after they have burned out. However I can’t for the life of me understand people who do as little as possible every chance they get, as if they are deflecting the smallest task just so that they don’t have to do anything or use anything of themselves. I’d think that consistently delegating any and all tasks to someone else would cause more stress, not less. I mean, what if they don’t do what you ask them on time, or at all? What if they forget? What if they simply do not feel like it? It seems to me that you’re creating more complications by hoping that someone else will take care of it than solving the same problems on your own.
I don’t ask for a lot of things. I’m stubborn like that. I’d rather do something for myself or get something by myself rather than have to rely on someone else to do it for me. Perhaps it is a cynical view I carry that really, the only person you can rely on is yourself, but think about it. If you need something, say a cup of coffee or a manicure, I am not the kind of person to wait for it to come to me or project my needs onto whoever is closest to me when it would take less effort to stand up and get it myself. From what I have experienced thus far, people are too busy worrying about what they have to do than to really take the time to do something for you, so why bother when it’s nothing off your back to do it? Having to work around someone else’s priorities sounds a hell of a lot harder than working around your own, and at least you’ll have an idea of when whatever you need will be done. A few of my friends refer to this belief as my innate independence; I just see it as common sense, and I can’t be the only one.
I was having dinner with Pete one night and we got to talking about how I somehow managed to break my TV by turning it off on a Thursday night after “The Office” and “Grey’s Anatomy”. He had asked me if I was planning on getting it fixed, to which I replied “well I don’t know” and still don’t know. Although it being an inopportune time, seeing how “Grey’s Anatomy” is now on for 3 hours a week, (same as a standard university lecture; coincidence? I think not!), getting my television fixed would require me having to rely on a few things: first, a TV repair man, if they even still exist, and having to work around his schedule or even worse have to lug the damn thing somewhere in my non-existent car with my not-so-legal-by-myself license, so second someone else with a car and a heart of gold. Neither option was too pleasing to me, so until a better one pops into my head I’m just not going to do anything about it.
This made Pete burst out laughing at my natural stubbornness, mentioning that he a) has a car and b) would be willing to take me to get it fixed. However, Pete knows me pretty well and through his chuckles threw out there that I would “carry that thing on your back and drag it down the street yourself!” his emphasis on yourself. I know that eventually I will break down and get my television fixed, or buy a new one, but still… it does not take away from the fact that I do not like to ask or rely on anybody else for anything.
Now I admit there are a few things that I simply cannot do for myself and thus rely on other people. Brazilians for example. I mean, I guess I could do it in theory, however I cannot inflict that much pain upon myself willingly, thus I pay almost 50$ every 5 weeks for my waxer to do it for me. I also can’t drive, but living in the city not many twenty-something students do who live on their own. So I rely on the bus to get me places that I can’t or really shouldn’t walk to. And finally, I cannot survive without my friendships which means in the end relying on other people. It is true that no woman is an island, but at the same time there is nothing stopping any capable girl (or guy for that matter) from being independent and self-reliant.
I guess it’s the “some else will do it” mentality that plagues a percentage of the population, tying into the fact that nobody cares what happens so long as it doesn’t happen to them, but if it does well someone better be there to fix it and that someone better not be me! It’s a shame that the percentage of this lazy population is unfairly clumped into my generation, the twenty-something Echo’s of the Baby Boomers who to some people gave us everything except the value of hard work. Granted yes, the majority of these lazy freeloaders I speak of are in my generation, but I know quite a few people in my age-range who gladly work for their own money, clean their own apartments, maintain their own cars, and basically are as independent as a twenty-something student can be. That being said, I’ve run into more than my fair share of sponges who create messes but refuse to even acknowledge them, let alone clean them up for themselves.
I know a few people who believe that it is much easier for another person to do whatever needs to be done and for some things I agree. It is much easier to have someone clean your apartment, for example, or for someone to cook for you and change your light bulbs 2 months after they have burned out. However I can’t for the life of me understand people who do as little as possible every chance they get, as if they are deflecting the smallest task just so that they don’t have to do anything or use anything of themselves. I’d think that consistently delegating any and all tasks to someone else would cause more stress, not less. I mean, what if they don’t do what you ask them on time, or at all? What if they forget? What if they simply do not feel like it? It seems to me that you’re creating more complications by hoping that someone else will take care of it than solving the same problems on your own.
Monday, January 15, 2007
The Green Eye'd Monster
Beware, my ladies (and gentlemen!), of jealousy...
I had a nightmare not too long ago about my ex, Pierre. In this dream Pierre had somehow found out, I'm guessing through a mutual friend of ours whom I bumped into during my Festivus shopping extravaganza, that I had gotten back together with Vegas after repeatedly denying Pierre any and all chances of ever getting within 10 feet of yours truly. Anyway, he had found out that Vegas and I were together, and in my dream he was literally chasing me down the street (reminiscent of an argument we once had over Vegas contacting me via email just to see how I was) yelling and screaming at me, saying stuff like "why are you back with HIM?? He broke your heart and I did NOTHING wrong!!" even though the majority of our relationship was emotionally abusive (read; it was like dating a needy, selfish, self-possessed chick who was always right but never satisfied. MEN, I respect you SO much for dealing with that after I experienced my Pierre debacle!).
I tried to run away down the street but he kept following me asking why I hadn't given him a second chance (which I did; BIG mistake!) and then when I continued to run away he decided to scream "YOU CHEATED ON ME!!!" because I had gotten back with Vegas... over a year after Pierre and I broke up? I don't know, it's a dream! Anyway I would sometimes manage to scream back "Leave me alone!!" which I had done in the past and this continues until someone who looked like a senior management personnel and his wife show up (random, I know!) and ask me if I am ok. By this point I am crying, saying "No I am not" but Pierre keeps screaming and calling me names. And then my alarm went off.
I spoke to Mackenzie about this and according to google the most common dreams one can have of an ex is either a)having sex with said ex or b) things like that, but never nightmares. That nightmare got me thinking of Pierre's and my other ex's irrational behaviour at times which I think I've managed to generally boil down to one reoccuring concept in the men I chose to date: Jealousy. I know that it's highly unlikely in the general population, but after the past four serious and semi-serious boyfriends, I can't help but wonder if all men are created equal in respects to their levels of jealousy?
Dont get me wrong here; I know plenty of super-jealous women who go to the extreme to keep their men all to themselves to the point where he is not allowed to have female friends, but being a non-irrational girl, I can only discuss this topic from the point of view that men are the more-jealous of the two, at least when he is in a relationship. With the exception of one boyfriend, let's call him 'Ward', all subsequent boyfriends or semi-serious men in my life have been at one time or another, or all the time, jealous. Now this jealous could extend well beyond the skeezy men you come across in the night-life of a twenty-something into areas of question; ie girls nights out, self-dates, school, me-time? Basically it was as if his jealous crossed over from 'protective male-instincts' to 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', both of which are forms of jealousy but are tolerated in completely different ways.
To be fair, the first form of male jealousy, 'protective male-instincts', I can understand. I mean, I don't know how male minds work, and men do. So I guess it makes sense, like the daddy-hates-everyone-who-dates-his-daughter-because-he-knows-how-and-what-guys-think conundrum... and that I don't and will never mind; in fact, I like it. To me it tells me that a) he's protective of you, because we all know us girls look for our dad's in the men we date and eventually marry, and b) he knows you're hot shit, so he'd better treat you right and show interest in you and the men seeking your attention. No, it's the second form of male jealousy, 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', that I can't and will never understand.
Preventing your girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter) from having a life beyond you is NOT healthy. Nor is it SANE! I mean, really; that whole "one mind" mentality is bullshit. If you are so insecure that you cannot contemplate the fact that your significant other is a person with interests, friends, and a life to live outside of your sphere of influence, then maybe you ought to step back for a second and think of your true intentions of being in a relationship. Pierre was trying to fill a void using me and that is a dangerous game to play because in the end, despite how good of a person you are and all that you try to do, you're never going to be able to fill that emptiness for that person. A relationship should be symbiotic; equal in giving to and taking of the other with the realization that your significant other gives to all that are in her/his life, be it friends, future friends, family, co-workers, and classmates.
I get that men don't like to share their women sexually; women don't like to share their men sexually either! But when that no-sharing policy breeches into your activities of daily living, you gotta stop and think if this is the kind of relationship you want to be in; singular, all-encompassing, and more fit for a Stepford Wife/Husband than a modern Manolo-lite.
I had a nightmare not too long ago about my ex, Pierre. In this dream Pierre had somehow found out, I'm guessing through a mutual friend of ours whom I bumped into during my Festivus shopping extravaganza, that I had gotten back together with Vegas after repeatedly denying Pierre any and all chances of ever getting within 10 feet of yours truly. Anyway, he had found out that Vegas and I were together, and in my dream he was literally chasing me down the street (reminiscent of an argument we once had over Vegas contacting me via email just to see how I was) yelling and screaming at me, saying stuff like "why are you back with HIM?? He broke your heart and I did NOTHING wrong!!" even though the majority of our relationship was emotionally abusive (read; it was like dating a needy, selfish, self-possessed chick who was always right but never satisfied. MEN, I respect you SO much for dealing with that after I experienced my Pierre debacle!).
I tried to run away down the street but he kept following me asking why I hadn't given him a second chance (which I did; BIG mistake!) and then when I continued to run away he decided to scream "YOU CHEATED ON ME!!!" because I had gotten back with Vegas... over a year after Pierre and I broke up? I don't know, it's a dream! Anyway I would sometimes manage to scream back "Leave me alone!!" which I had done in the past and this continues until someone who looked like a senior management personnel and his wife show up (random, I know!) and ask me if I am ok. By this point I am crying, saying "No I am not" but Pierre keeps screaming and calling me names. And then my alarm went off.
I spoke to Mackenzie about this and according to google the most common dreams one can have of an ex is either a)having sex with said ex or b) things like that, but never nightmares. That nightmare got me thinking of Pierre's and my other ex's irrational behaviour at times which I think I've managed to generally boil down to one reoccuring concept in the men I chose to date: Jealousy. I know that it's highly unlikely in the general population, but after the past four serious and semi-serious boyfriends, I can't help but wonder if all men are created equal in respects to their levels of jealousy?
Dont get me wrong here; I know plenty of super-jealous women who go to the extreme to keep their men all to themselves to the point where he is not allowed to have female friends, but being a non-irrational girl, I can only discuss this topic from the point of view that men are the more-jealous of the two, at least when he is in a relationship. With the exception of one boyfriend, let's call him 'Ward', all subsequent boyfriends or semi-serious men in my life have been at one time or another, or all the time, jealous. Now this jealous could extend well beyond the skeezy men you come across in the night-life of a twenty-something into areas of question; ie girls nights out, self-dates, school, me-time? Basically it was as if his jealous crossed over from 'protective male-instincts' to 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', both of which are forms of jealousy but are tolerated in completely different ways.
To be fair, the first form of male jealousy, 'protective male-instincts', I can understand. I mean, I don't know how male minds work, and men do. So I guess it makes sense, like the daddy-hates-everyone-who-dates-his-daughter-because-he-knows-how-and-what-guys-think conundrum... and that I don't and will never mind; in fact, I like it. To me it tells me that a) he's protective of you, because we all know us girls look for our dad's in the men we date and eventually marry, and b) he knows you're hot shit, so he'd better treat you right and show interest in you and the men seeking your attention. No, it's the second form of male jealousy, 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', that I can't and will never understand.
Preventing your girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter) from having a life beyond you is NOT healthy. Nor is it SANE! I mean, really; that whole "one mind" mentality is bullshit. If you are so insecure that you cannot contemplate the fact that your significant other is a person with interests, friends, and a life to live outside of your sphere of influence, then maybe you ought to step back for a second and think of your true intentions of being in a relationship. Pierre was trying to fill a void using me and that is a dangerous game to play because in the end, despite how good of a person you are and all that you try to do, you're never going to be able to fill that emptiness for that person. A relationship should be symbiotic; equal in giving to and taking of the other with the realization that your significant other gives to all that are in her/his life, be it friends, future friends, family, co-workers, and classmates.
I get that men don't like to share their women sexually; women don't like to share their men sexually either! But when that no-sharing policy breeches into your activities of daily living, you gotta stop and think if this is the kind of relationship you want to be in; singular, all-encompassing, and more fit for a Stepford Wife/Husband than a modern Manolo-lite.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
The Bachlorette (Party)
I’m in the middle of planning another bachlorette party for Angelica, my girlfriend who is getting married this summer. Christie, myself and another friend, let’s call her ‘Holly’, had a successful impromptu bachlorette for Angelica this past summer, which involved endless drinks, food and adoration from a group of generous guys we picked up at a local night club in the heart of the downtown core. Following an adventure home which included piggy back rides through the valley of sketch, the memories (and pictures) live on in infamy as one of the most fun nights of the entire summer.
That evening we were celebrating a lot of things; first and foremost, Angelica’s impending nuptials. Second, the arrival of Angelica’s wedding tiaras of which we all wore to the bar. Third, Holly’s most unusual cameo. And fourth, we were celebrating the joie de vive that twenty-something girls have for a mid-summer Friday night out. We were celebrating a lot of things, and as we drank, dressed and took pictures that idea got me thinking about my own state of non-union. It’s not that I was upset or jealous; I don’t think I am the marrying, white picket fence and 2.5 kid kind of girl, but on a night historically spent celebrating the last hurrah of singledom, I couldn’t help but wonder why we tend to celebrate being single only when we know it is slipping away?
Now I don’t know about you, but a Stagette thrown by yours truly involves drinking, dancing, flirting, eating, and pictures, oh so many pictures. A typical girls night out with the exception of a gigantic rock on a girls finger that manages to get the attention of any and all available (and not so available) men currently at the bar. It’s a proven fact, at least among my circle of friends, that nothing attracts a group of men willing to buy you drinks like a woman they know they can’t possibly have. A stagette/bachlorette, whatever, is an evening with your closest girlfriends doing all the things you would do, or wanted to do, while you were single. So begs the question… if one has to wait until they are engaged to, well, engage in such free spirited acts of independence once dominant in a girl’s single life, why are such special nights regulated only for those who will lose it?
According to these types of parties, the single life is meant to be enjoyed. Sure at the end of the night (or the beginning of the morning) you may return to your bed alone, or find yourself walking the walk of game alone (with a stop at Second Cup for a vanilla bean latte) in last nights killer outfit and equally killing shoes, but they are all signs of a good single night out. Being single, unattached, whatever allows you the freedom to do such things, be wild and free, and to celebrate this just because you can. The party may ease up once you find yourself in a relationship but until you do, the joie de vive of the single life is there, just waiting for you to grasp it.
A co-worker and I once discussed at length the concept of a we’re all bachlorette party; where a bunch of girls, single or otherwise, would dress up with veils or tiaras, hit the bars for an epic night on the town with the goal of getting as many free drinks, kisses and phone numbers as humanly possible. Now why would an evening that fun, that fresh, that exciting and eventful be reserved only to brides? I mean, in the sense of singledom we are all potential bachlorettes, looking or otherwise, for our Mr. Right. I think that single gals should, nay MUST celebrate their single hood long before it’s traded in for a Vera Wang wedding dress and sky-high Manolo Blahnik wedding shoes. I mean, what’s really stopping us? In my opinion, when Mr. Right eventually comes along, I think he’d rest easier knowing that when our final bachlorette comes we’ve managed to enjoy our seriously-single time enough to let it fade as soon as we watch him get on one knee. That way, not only do we know what we are losing, the freedom and spontaneity of singledom, but we also know what we’re gaining… Someone to come home to.
That evening we were celebrating a lot of things; first and foremost, Angelica’s impending nuptials. Second, the arrival of Angelica’s wedding tiaras of which we all wore to the bar. Third, Holly’s most unusual cameo. And fourth, we were celebrating the joie de vive that twenty-something girls have for a mid-summer Friday night out. We were celebrating a lot of things, and as we drank, dressed and took pictures that idea got me thinking about my own state of non-union. It’s not that I was upset or jealous; I don’t think I am the marrying, white picket fence and 2.5 kid kind of girl, but on a night historically spent celebrating the last hurrah of singledom, I couldn’t help but wonder why we tend to celebrate being single only when we know it is slipping away?
Now I don’t know about you, but a Stagette thrown by yours truly involves drinking, dancing, flirting, eating, and pictures, oh so many pictures. A typical girls night out with the exception of a gigantic rock on a girls finger that manages to get the attention of any and all available (and not so available) men currently at the bar. It’s a proven fact, at least among my circle of friends, that nothing attracts a group of men willing to buy you drinks like a woman they know they can’t possibly have. A stagette/bachlorette, whatever, is an evening with your closest girlfriends doing all the things you would do, or wanted to do, while you were single. So begs the question… if one has to wait until they are engaged to, well, engage in such free spirited acts of independence once dominant in a girl’s single life, why are such special nights regulated only for those who will lose it?
According to these types of parties, the single life is meant to be enjoyed. Sure at the end of the night (or the beginning of the morning) you may return to your bed alone, or find yourself walking the walk of game alone (with a stop at Second Cup for a vanilla bean latte) in last nights killer outfit and equally killing shoes, but they are all signs of a good single night out. Being single, unattached, whatever allows you the freedom to do such things, be wild and free, and to celebrate this just because you can. The party may ease up once you find yourself in a relationship but until you do, the joie de vive of the single life is there, just waiting for you to grasp it.
A co-worker and I once discussed at length the concept of a we’re all bachlorette party; where a bunch of girls, single or otherwise, would dress up with veils or tiaras, hit the bars for an epic night on the town with the goal of getting as many free drinks, kisses and phone numbers as humanly possible. Now why would an evening that fun, that fresh, that exciting and eventful be reserved only to brides? I mean, in the sense of singledom we are all potential bachlorettes, looking or otherwise, for our Mr. Right. I think that single gals should, nay MUST celebrate their single hood long before it’s traded in for a Vera Wang wedding dress and sky-high Manolo Blahnik wedding shoes. I mean, what’s really stopping us? In my opinion, when Mr. Right eventually comes along, I think he’d rest easier knowing that when our final bachlorette comes we’ve managed to enjoy our seriously-single time enough to let it fade as soon as we watch him get on one knee. That way, not only do we know what we are losing, the freedom and spontaneity of singledom, but we also know what we’re gaining… Someone to come home to.
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