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The Male Condition – A Complete Misunderstanding of All Things Wedding

Hey Ya’ll.

No, I’m not engaged yet, but since everyone around me is getting married, there are a lot of fun conversations happening.  And because by the end of December, I’ll have gone to at least 7 weddings (I lost count), the conversations are a-plenty.  They all have a common theme, too…  I’m realizing that most men know nothing about wedding things.

I’m sure this is on purpose, or at least understandable based on the fact that most men don’t moon over weddings like us women do.

For instance, my Mike didn’t realize that there were two rings involved for the women–an engagement ring and a wedding band.

And someone recently said that their boyfriend thought the engagement ring was just a band, and the ring at the wedding was the more ornate one.  NO!

Ha ha…  so I’m giving the links of all my engagement/wedding etiquette here as a recap.  Call it a resource page for your men:

Engagement Rings

Proposals and Etiquette for Men and Women (don’t get a proposal planner!)

How to be realistic (this is more for the women) about proposals

Wedding Showers

Remember that time I met David Tutera?

That is all!  Any other confusion?  Ask me.

 

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Posted by on October 18, 2012 in The Book of Love

 

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First Kisses (Maple Syrup-Like Sap Warning)

The movies always portray the first kiss as this wondrous little sparkle that ignites the fuse of the relationship and burns quickly until–you guessed it–you get to that stick of dynamite and everything blows up.

Oh, don’t worry, ya’ll.  Mike and I are nowhere near the end of that fuse.  I’m not quite sure there is one ( 😀 ).

I don’t believe that everyone has their “first kiss” and that’s it. I mean, each first kiss is a chance to start it all over.  That’s why people place so much precedence on it.

My very first first kiss was kind of a disaster.  I didn’t know it was coming, or what I was doing for that matter.  I was walking a boy out of my parents’ house on an early spring night.  I thank him for stopping over, gave him a hug.  And with my attempt to end the hug, I had lips on my face.  Strong, high school band, trumpet playing lips.  In truth, I didn’t want it to ever happen again. When I went back into the house, my mother realized my horror and smiled.

Oddly, I do not recall the first kiss of the boy I dated for three years in high school.  It was either on a bench at the ice rink, or in the back of my mother’s minivan while she drove us to his house.

There was a first kiss in my dorm room at Ashland University that I had been waiting for for months and told my roommate Kay about in the showers the next morning–all babbling and blushing and wonderful.

A hesitant first kiss on my front porch after he’d jumped down, paused, thought twice, and jumped back up.  That kind of sums up that relationship.

There was a first kiss that devastated a two-year infatuation in a single moment with a long-haired, Trans-Am driving mechanic that smelled of patchouli rose oil and Marlboros.  Because really, a kiss is sometimes all you need to know that what you were after was a bad idea.

And then I remember my first kiss with Mike.  Weeks of wanting to, but being unable.  Too many nights holding hands in the streets, our forearms brushing together, staring at each other’s mouths.  And then watching a movie in a dimly lit living room on Petral Court, he made a joke about Dirty Dancing, I jokingly pouted about Patrick Swayze and pulled a quilt over my head.  And then he was under the quilt with me, all warm breath and closeness, the light poking through the swirls left by the thread that held the quilt together.  In the dark, where neither one of us could see, our lips landed on one another’s and lit the fuse.

It was the best first kiss of my life.  And if I’m lucky, it’ll be the last first kiss of my life. 🙂

 

 
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Posted by on August 21, 2012 in The Book of Love

 

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Top Five Men-Producing Countries

It’s been awhile since I’ve been crude and talked about men like the pieces of (glorious) meat that they are.

So today, I will give you the Top Five Men-Producing Countries.  WTF does that mean?  It means the countries that produce the type of men that I would like to date.  So…here we go.

Top Five Men-Producing Countries (in no specific order):

1)  Iceland – Manly men.  Manly manly manly.  Like Hermann Hreiðarsson.  6ft 3in of man right there.

2)  Ireland – Fun, drunk, and dead sexy.  Like Colin Farrell.  Bad.  Ass.

3)  Canada – Strong, toothless, wonderful.  And bearded.  Like Carrie Underwood’s husband Mike Fisher.

And Dave Salmoni:

4)  Denmark – Um…what?  Where the hell did Nikolaj Coster-Waldau come from?  And why is he not on my Guilt-Free Three?

5)  Australia – Golden, blonde, beautiful.  Caine Eckstein?  Yeah.  I’ll forgive the belly shirt for this guy.

And Chris Hemsworth:

And the good ole USA for Josh Holloway:

 
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Posted by on May 18, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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Guilt Free Three Update: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE CHRIS HEMSWORTH?!

Um, here’s the update:

Angus Stone

Taylor Kitsch

And CHRIS HEMSWORTH.  WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!  

I’m sorry.  I can’t talk right now.  My mind is elsewhere.

 
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Posted by on April 12, 2012 in The Book of Love

 

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I Might Want a Sewing Machine…

So I love sewing by hand–fixing the hole in Mike’s brand new flannel (that he ripped on a nail walking into a bar), sewing buttons, fixing that stupid hole in the pillow that’s leaving poly-fil all over my house.

But I think I want a sewing machine.  Uncle Grandma was a helluva seamstress…and so is my Grandma Cleobelle.  Heck, my dad can even work a sewing machine.

I am lucky enough to have a wonderful seamstress friend named Joy who helped me make my quilt. I love that quilt.  Mike and I shared our first kiss under that quilt.  Sigh.  So long ago. 🙂

But I keep seeing all these cute things on Pinterest that I want to make.  So maybe it’s time…to invest…in a sewing machine.  How domestic!

Good Friday today–remember, no meat, no snacking.

Have a very Happy Easter Sunday!

 
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Posted by on April 6, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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Greener Grass from the Window of a One-Bedroom Apartment?

Last night, I went out to Panini’s in Brunswick to celebrate my friend Greg‘s birthday.  As we were sitting around the fire pit on the patio, I got into a conversation about how I wanted out of my apartment and into…and how some of the guys around me wanted out of their houses and back into apartments.

Let’s get the facts down first:  I hate living in apartments.  I hate the people around me.  I hate the noise.  I hate shared walls. I hate having to unlock two doors to get to my place (even though that makes me feel safe).  My first apartment in Brunswick was pretty much underground…full of spiders…dark…damp.  I felt like a mushroom.

My second apartment is bigger–still on the first floor–but nonetheless, it is still an apartment.  It’s a two-bedroom, but I can honestly count the times I’ve opened the door to that second bedroom on one hand.

Now back to the bar conversation–the guys have houses-nice big houses-that I would kill for.  They have driveways and garages and yards.  They have a home–a reason to decorate and actually make it feel like a home.

Now me–I don’t have a yard.  I can’t even hang a bird-feeder for the cardinals.  I don’t have a balcony (1st floor), and I can’t open my windows because the fucking (white trash) smokers at the front door (who have awesome grammar and language skills, by the way) stand there and bitch and blow smoke into my windows.  I don’t normally judge–but seriously.  I am alone in my apartment.  I have all the time and space to myself.  And I hate it.

Now, the guys I was talking to–the ones with their nice houses and their yards–sometimes long to be back in the one-bedroom apartment stage of their lives.  WHY?!

Simplicity–yes, I understand that.  And that’s pretty much it.  I mean, I don’t get it.

But maybe it’s a gender roles thing.  Maybe men want to go back to that primitive way, and women want to move forward?  Maybe…  Or maybe it’s because I am alone and long for Mike to be with me in my living arrangement, and once you’re older and have been with someone for awhile, you want to go back to solitude.  I don’t know. I don’t get it.

All I know is that I can’t be bothered to decorate my apartment to make it feel like home because it isn’t home.  It’s a temporary place that will hold me until I can find a place with Mike to call home.

Maybe the grass is just never greener out of your current window.

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2012 in Daily Happenings

 

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Guilt-Free Three Update: Folk Singer Edition

The Guilt-Free Three officially has a Folk Singer Edition.  Mostly because of one man–but I’m realizing that folk singers are mighty sexy.  MIGHTY.

So here we go:

#3:  Kristian Matsson:  The Tallest Man On Earth

HOLY GEEZ.  Not only is his voice and his music AMAZING, he’s like a Swedish James Dean.  Lordy!

#2:  Charlie Fink:  “Noah & The Whale”

Gimme that hair!

#1:  Angus Stone:  Angus & Julia Stone

Whaaaaa–okay, I’ll admit it.  This is the whole reason for this post.  HOLY SHIT.  The hair, the scruff, the chest fur, the voice, the harmonica.  I can’t help myself.  Luckily, he only sings with his sister, so he’s not married–plus, Mike digs his sister Julia.

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2012 in The Book of Love

 

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