This sentence kept flashing through my brain this past weekend. I felt it wanted to be written down somewhere to solidify its existence in my mind, and I figure my blog was the best spot for it.
This sums up how I feel these days. I DON'T want anyone else's life, but I do want mine. I don't say this in a cocky way, in a way that says my life is better than anyone else's. This comes from a place of owning your own experience in this world, and not wanting to trade places with anyone because the journey you are on is about getting 'you' to the highest place you can possibly go --with the situations that have led you to this moment.
When I think of my life over the past several years, I remember always wanting to escape MY life. Always wanting to deny my reality really was that: my reality. I always wanted what someone else had -- whether that be material items, emotional well-being, or mental clarity. I didn't want to be me living in my shoes. I lived in a world of comparison. I lived in a place where I couldn't be content with what I had, because I simply wasn't content with what I had, and without major changes that one fact would remain constant.
Its been a year of changes. A year of moving on, and making my life better. A year of trying new things, going new places, and making new friends. A year of learning to be me all over again, and a year of celebrating all the things (good and not-so-good) that make my life what it is, and I appreciate my life more than I ever have. That one feeling makes it all worth it.
So you are moving to San Francisco? That's cool. Marrying next year? Awesome. Got a new job with lots of travel to South America? Good for you.
I have a life I love and I wouldn't trade it for the world. It has taken me 8 months to be able to say that, and it feels pretty damn fabulous.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Easy as 1 - 2 - 3
One of the things I often struggle with is the art of decision-making. I know I am not alone in this struggle, as making decisions and the choices that stream from that very often dictate our life and how good or how not-so-good it will be.
In the past year -- or 9 months -- I have tried to tune in, go with my gut, and get in touch with the part of me that knows exactly what she wants -- has basically believed these wants into existence -- and then I cannot help but be over-joyed when I see these things in real life. The reaction to going with or going without such 'thing' is an immediate knowing from some deep rooted place. Almost as if the decision were already made and I simply have to recognize it.
My favorite example of this in action is a story of shopping. In 2008, I attempted to find a dress to wear in April 2009. I wanted it to feel right when I stepped into it. I wanted to know it was MY dress, the one I knew in my heart of hearts I was supposed to wear. After many months of looking I settled for something exquisite, but never felt right. I had to wear something, and this was about as close as I was going to get.
Needless to say the events of April 2009 changed, but the inherent knowledge of knowing I needed a dress to wear in April 2009 did not. And easy enough, an afternoon of wandering and trying to adjust to Spanish timelines left me staring into a shop window in Sevilla at the MOST AMAZING dress I had EVER seen. When the events played out that I returned to the shop the following day during store hours, and I put the dress on... I knew. It was my dress. It was the feeling I wanted during my dress-pursuit in 2008. It was the feeling I wanted to have in April 2009, and the act of purchasing the dress and wearing it to Feria at the end of April led to the life change I needed...led to another place of knowing that I am meant to live in Sevilla, Espana at some point in my life. For a long period of time. I am meant to write books underneath the orange trees, or in cafes in Santa Cruz. I inherently know this. I didn't know that buying a dress was going to lead to this learning, but I knew I had to buy the dress. Regardless of cost, it was mine long before I saw it.
Yesterday, I had a similar experience. After getting back from Europe, the need for an apartment was calling me: A place to call home, that could contain my belongings. A place for me to escape from the world, a place for me to be me. A place that would not change for a while. A place I could count on.
Sure enough, one call to a broker led to an apartment viewing of a brand new renovated apartment in Soho -- and not just Soho, but the BEST block in Soho -- and the little New York dream I have been wanting for 7 years slowly began to find a home, to have a place to land, and not just occupy my thoughts and wishes. Yes, its costly, but to have a space that makes you feel good, makes you feel inspired, and ultimately makes you want to dream because you KNOW dreams come true... that is simply priceless.
And so when a decision was needed, it was easy -- Sign-me up. That dream has been waiting there for me.
In the past year -- or 9 months -- I have tried to tune in, go with my gut, and get in touch with the part of me that knows exactly what she wants -- has basically believed these wants into existence -- and then I cannot help but be over-joyed when I see these things in real life. The reaction to going with or going without such 'thing' is an immediate knowing from some deep rooted place. Almost as if the decision were already made and I simply have to recognize it.
My favorite example of this in action is a story of shopping. In 2008, I attempted to find a dress to wear in April 2009. I wanted it to feel right when I stepped into it. I wanted to know it was MY dress, the one I knew in my heart of hearts I was supposed to wear. After many months of looking I settled for something exquisite, but never felt right. I had to wear something, and this was about as close as I was going to get.
Needless to say the events of April 2009 changed, but the inherent knowledge of knowing I needed a dress to wear in April 2009 did not. And easy enough, an afternoon of wandering and trying to adjust to Spanish timelines left me staring into a shop window in Sevilla at the MOST AMAZING dress I had EVER seen. When the events played out that I returned to the shop the following day during store hours, and I put the dress on... I knew. It was my dress. It was the feeling I wanted during my dress-pursuit in 2008. It was the feeling I wanted to have in April 2009, and the act of purchasing the dress and wearing it to Feria at the end of April led to the life change I needed...led to another place of knowing that I am meant to live in Sevilla, Espana at some point in my life. For a long period of time. I am meant to write books underneath the orange trees, or in cafes in Santa Cruz. I inherently know this. I didn't know that buying a dress was going to lead to this learning, but I knew I had to buy the dress. Regardless of cost, it was mine long before I saw it.
Yesterday, I had a similar experience. After getting back from Europe, the need for an apartment was calling me: A place to call home, that could contain my belongings. A place for me to escape from the world, a place for me to be me. A place that would not change for a while. A place I could count on.
Sure enough, one call to a broker led to an apartment viewing of a brand new renovated apartment in Soho -- and not just Soho, but the BEST block in Soho -- and the little New York dream I have been wanting for 7 years slowly began to find a home, to have a place to land, and not just occupy my thoughts and wishes. Yes, its costly, but to have a space that makes you feel good, makes you feel inspired, and ultimately makes you want to dream because you KNOW dreams come true... that is simply priceless.
And so when a decision was needed, it was easy -- Sign-me up. That dream has been waiting there for me.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Life I Love
Today is my final day of vacation. Kind of. Tomorrow is the last day that I am officially not working, but with an 830 bus ride to Sevilla followed by a 1315 flight to Paris and an evening in the City of Light for one, tomorrow is seeming less and less like a vacation day and more and more of a day that Paige designed.
Sometimes I really feel like sitting that hyper-active, plan-a-thon of a woman down for a good long chat. =o)
But that's the difference. She does these things when she is in NYC and well, I feel differently here. Here, in the place I love.
Don't get me wrong, I can't wait for an evening in Paris. I love that city. I love the romantic lighting. I love the charming views. I LOVE the food... infact I already know my menu for tomorrow -- moules frites and steak tartare with a lovely Bordeaux. I love Paris.
But I love the life I live in Spain more. This morning I got up and attempted to run, but this non-sensical congestion in my chest eluded me, and I biked a few miles instead. I had coffee and pan at a breakfast spot on the corner and spent the entire afternoon in the sun...broiling. I returned to Eline's (she's working so she can't really play today) and made a mimosa, wrote in my journal, got online to check the tennis scores, and then daydreamed about the day that I can finally figure out a way to make this Spanish escapade happen. I want that more than anything.
In the few days I have been beachside and my mind truly gets to relax, I compare moments like this -- of absolute calm -- to those that I know too well in NYC of constant frentic energy. Here, well, I am here. I have nowhere else I want to be. Even in Sevilla, I can sit in a cafe for hours, on the sidewalks drinking cafe con leche or tinto de verrano. But in New York, there is a state of craze that follows me. I can't multi-task enough, I can pack a bajillion things into one afternoon, or have a dozen things done before noon and still feel like I am not doing enough. Its nuts. Here, I have no need to pick up the phone. Here, I allow my mind to wonder, my thoughts to become what they will. There, I fill every 5 or 10 minutes up with calls to family or friends when we really don't get to chat, but more or less fill 5 or 10 minutes with as much as we can fit in.
I have often said to my mother that when I am here I understand her life in Cartersville and why my sister is there as well. They don't want to be anywhere else. Yes, they lead busy lives, but they are home. When I go there, I get restless. Cartersville is not my home. Its where I am from, but its not where I feel peace, its not where I dream, its not where I want to be. Nor is New York, or anywhere else on that side of the Atlantic.
This life I am staring out at, is everything I want. Blue skies, friendly people, warm weather, and an ease that you just don't find in the States. When I am here I find a way to fit in all the things I enjoy -- writing, being outdoors, beach, friends, reading, catching up, etc. There, its all the things I have to do. Its a depot for me, a stop along the way, until I can get back to where I want to be...however and whenever that may be.
Sometimes I really feel like sitting that hyper-active, plan-a-thon of a woman down for a good long chat. =o)
But that's the difference. She does these things when she is in NYC and well, I feel differently here. Here, in the place I love.
Don't get me wrong, I can't wait for an evening in Paris. I love that city. I love the romantic lighting. I love the charming views. I LOVE the food... infact I already know my menu for tomorrow -- moules frites and steak tartare with a lovely Bordeaux. I love Paris.
But I love the life I live in Spain more. This morning I got up and attempted to run, but this non-sensical congestion in my chest eluded me, and I biked a few miles instead. I had coffee and pan at a breakfast spot on the corner and spent the entire afternoon in the sun...broiling. I returned to Eline's (she's working so she can't really play today) and made a mimosa, wrote in my journal, got online to check the tennis scores, and then daydreamed about the day that I can finally figure out a way to make this Spanish escapade happen. I want that more than anything.
In the few days I have been beachside and my mind truly gets to relax, I compare moments like this -- of absolute calm -- to those that I know too well in NYC of constant frentic energy. Here, well, I am here. I have nowhere else I want to be. Even in Sevilla, I can sit in a cafe for hours, on the sidewalks drinking cafe con leche or tinto de verrano. But in New York, there is a state of craze that follows me. I can't multi-task enough, I can pack a bajillion things into one afternoon, or have a dozen things done before noon and still feel like I am not doing enough. Its nuts. Here, I have no need to pick up the phone. Here, I allow my mind to wonder, my thoughts to become what they will. There, I fill every 5 or 10 minutes up with calls to family or friends when we really don't get to chat, but more or less fill 5 or 10 minutes with as much as we can fit in.
I have often said to my mother that when I am here I understand her life in Cartersville and why my sister is there as well. They don't want to be anywhere else. Yes, they lead busy lives, but they are home. When I go there, I get restless. Cartersville is not my home. Its where I am from, but its not where I feel peace, its not where I dream, its not where I want to be. Nor is New York, or anywhere else on that side of the Atlantic.
This life I am staring out at, is everything I want. Blue skies, friendly people, warm weather, and an ease that you just don't find in the States. When I am here I find a way to fit in all the things I enjoy -- writing, being outdoors, beach, friends, reading, catching up, etc. There, its all the things I have to do. Its a depot for me, a stop along the way, until I can get back to where I want to be...however and whenever that may be.
Friday, September 4, 2009
I might be able to laugh at this... but not for another hour.
I am back in Spain. Which is guaranteed to put a smile on my face. This time around things are a bit difficult as I am for the most part flying solo, meaning I am directing my own course and having to fend for myself when it comes to the fact that I don't speak Spanish. (I try, but the going is very, very rough....)
It has been frustrating at times, as I just don't have the vocabulary to tell someone what I want, and they don't have the English skills to understand.
Today I decided I needed to hit the grocery store to pick up a few things -- vino, fruta, queso and serrano. Basic fixings for a light snack while watching the sunset.
How difficult could a grocery run be? Well, let me tell you.
There were a few things about this plan that were already fighting against each other. One, being that I like to walk everywhere. And two, being I really had no clue where I was or where I was going. When I travel, this becomes my way of figuring it out, or something like that.
I start off walking the length of the beach to a little stone opening in the wall that leads to the church that I have been plenty of times with Eline and Miguel. I know the sunglass shop I wanted to stop in was near and I kind of knew how to find the grocery store from there.
Well, I found the church, and after a 20 minute search for the sunglass shop I abandoned the search and would be fine with groceries... if I can find the store. Walking through town, I see several places I had been with my friends, but no grocery. I do see a sign with an arrow pointing to MERCADONA, and I think that is the way to go.
I never found Mercadona but i did find CarreFour, the European version of SuperWalmart. I go in, buy a few things including two bottles of wine and start walking home. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I have NO CLUE where I am going. After two miles of walking, I am very lost, and from the horizon I can tell I am NO WHERE near the beach. Problem.
I don't know why I don't call Eline, I know she would help me out, but there is this independent streak in me that is SO STUBBORN at times, and so I fend for myself. I am pouring with sweat, the sunscreen that I THANK GOD had applied before I left was beading up in white patches all over me, My hair was falling down in a true mess. My arms were hurting from the heavy grocery sacks and I was beyond irate... Where is this damn hotel? And then there was a sign! About 3 miles too late, but it was a sign for the hotel. I still had 3 kms to go... Yeah, we may be rethinking this independent thing next time around....
It has been frustrating at times, as I just don't have the vocabulary to tell someone what I want, and they don't have the English skills to understand.
Today I decided I needed to hit the grocery store to pick up a few things -- vino, fruta, queso and serrano. Basic fixings for a light snack while watching the sunset.
How difficult could a grocery run be? Well, let me tell you.
There were a few things about this plan that were already fighting against each other. One, being that I like to walk everywhere. And two, being I really had no clue where I was or where I was going. When I travel, this becomes my way of figuring it out, or something like that.
I start off walking the length of the beach to a little stone opening in the wall that leads to the church that I have been plenty of times with Eline and Miguel. I know the sunglass shop I wanted to stop in was near and I kind of knew how to find the grocery store from there.
Well, I found the church, and after a 20 minute search for the sunglass shop I abandoned the search and would be fine with groceries... if I can find the store. Walking through town, I see several places I had been with my friends, but no grocery. I do see a sign with an arrow pointing to MERCADONA, and I think that is the way to go.
I never found Mercadona but i did find CarreFour, the European version of SuperWalmart. I go in, buy a few things including two bottles of wine and start walking home. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I have NO CLUE where I am going. After two miles of walking, I am very lost, and from the horizon I can tell I am NO WHERE near the beach. Problem.
I don't know why I don't call Eline, I know she would help me out, but there is this independent streak in me that is SO STUBBORN at times, and so I fend for myself. I am pouring with sweat, the sunscreen that I THANK GOD had applied before I left was beading up in white patches all over me, My hair was falling down in a true mess. My arms were hurting from the heavy grocery sacks and I was beyond irate... Where is this damn hotel? And then there was a sign! About 3 miles too late, but it was a sign for the hotel. I still had 3 kms to go... Yeah, we may be rethinking this independent thing next time around....
Friday, August 14, 2009
The Best Laid Plans of Mice & Men...
Knowing I leave for Europe in two weeks, puts me in a mindset to be more frugal these days, spend less, eat less and drink less. I know that in the 10 days I am there these three areas will be totally maxed out.
This week I have cooked in more, gone out less, drank less and tried to be more lowkey as I know in two weeks I will be living out loud...to the fullest. Monday through Wednesday I was stellar at my act. For 72-hours I hoarded away money and calories like a bear storing up for the winter. Thursday I had plans to come home, practice my Spanish, prepare a nice healthy meal and go to bed. None of that happened.
The dreary clouds over Manhattan had me in the mood for company, and in New York (and probably most places) afterwork company involves going to a bar for drinks. When a friend mentioned happy hour, I was game. When she needed to leave two hours later, I still wanted company so I called a new friend to join me. And he did.
Five drinks later, not to mention dollars later, every pre-Europe plan had been tossed out the window, and I wake up this morning wondering 'why do I do this to myself?'...
But I had fun, and I don't really regret 'playing' when I should have been storing up for the fun times in Spain. Sometimes you have to focus on 'today' and live a little more than planned. I mean spontaneity is the spice of life, right?
This week I have cooked in more, gone out less, drank less and tried to be more lowkey as I know in two weeks I will be living out loud...to the fullest. Monday through Wednesday I was stellar at my act. For 72-hours I hoarded away money and calories like a bear storing up for the winter. Thursday I had plans to come home, practice my Spanish, prepare a nice healthy meal and go to bed. None of that happened.
The dreary clouds over Manhattan had me in the mood for company, and in New York (and probably most places) afterwork company involves going to a bar for drinks. When a friend mentioned happy hour, I was game. When she needed to leave two hours later, I still wanted company so I called a new friend to join me. And he did.
Five drinks later, not to mention dollars later, every pre-Europe plan had been tossed out the window, and I wake up this morning wondering 'why do I do this to myself?'...
But I had fun, and I don't really regret 'playing' when I should have been storing up for the fun times in Spain. Sometimes you have to focus on 'today' and live a little more than planned. I mean spontaneity is the spice of life, right?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
What goes down, must go up....
I am a big believer in life having balance. For the times you are sad, you will have equally ecstatic moments. For the times you feel like a dumb-ass, you have equal amounts of feeling like Einstein. And for the times you are in a downward spiral, you will soon be on the upswing. Its just the way life works.
Of course there are times when that 'upswing' is just taking too long to gain its momentum, and for me that day was yesterday.
Prior to that I had been slowly spiraling downward, and by yesterday evening I was overwhelmed with all I was feeling. I was 'here' and 'there' at the same moment, with about 10 other 'here nor theres' thrown in. My head was in a tailspin. When I got to my girlfriends house my woes and uncertainties were all on the table in a matter of moments. Work.... life... friends... boys... apartments... travel... you name it, and it was probably there. Everything seemed to be hitting a breaking point, and emotionally I was hitting mine.
Alot of my emotions stemmed from the fact that I chose to be a bit of a nomad/vagabound/tumbleweed and live foot-loose and fancy free for this year. Tied down, I am not. And I like that. But on the flip side there is often the feeling of having nothing to cling too. And that can be hard. Sometimes even tumbleweeds want to sit still for a moment.
At this moment all of the possibilities were staring at me, all of the uncertainties seemed 5x more uncertain, and any ounce of stability I had been able to pile beneath my feet seemed to be slipping away.
With all my emotional issues spread out over my friend's couch and flowing onto the floor, I realized that what I was really having issue with is too many options. There is just too much I can do right now -- stay in NYC, move to Europe, move to the beach, go to grad school, become a nunn, etc. etc. As much as I love this open-ended phase of my life there are some times that it is just so damn hard to stay focused... especially in this crazy city I choose to live. In the 30 mins it took to walk to Sarah's house, I swear I had about 30 thoughts about my next move in life. All polar-opposite from the one that came before it.
As my woes ceased from spilling forth, my friend became the sage that she is and gave me some of the best advice ever: soak it up. The right decision will be easy to make, but soak up as much as you can interms of emotional/mental stimuli to make sure you FEEL the way to the right decision. And soak up this time in your life because times are coming when you will be more grounded and you will wish you had more options... but that day, is not today.
Of course there are times when that 'upswing' is just taking too long to gain its momentum, and for me that day was yesterday.
Prior to that I had been slowly spiraling downward, and by yesterday evening I was overwhelmed with all I was feeling. I was 'here' and 'there' at the same moment, with about 10 other 'here nor theres' thrown in. My head was in a tailspin. When I got to my girlfriends house my woes and uncertainties were all on the table in a matter of moments. Work.... life... friends... boys... apartments... travel... you name it, and it was probably there. Everything seemed to be hitting a breaking point, and emotionally I was hitting mine.
Alot of my emotions stemmed from the fact that I chose to be a bit of a nomad/vagabound/tumbleweed and live foot-loose and fancy free for this year. Tied down, I am not. And I like that. But on the flip side there is often the feeling of having nothing to cling too. And that can be hard. Sometimes even tumbleweeds want to sit still for a moment.
At this moment all of the possibilities were staring at me, all of the uncertainties seemed 5x more uncertain, and any ounce of stability I had been able to pile beneath my feet seemed to be slipping away.
With all my emotional issues spread out over my friend's couch and flowing onto the floor, I realized that what I was really having issue with is too many options. There is just too much I can do right now -- stay in NYC, move to Europe, move to the beach, go to grad school, become a nunn, etc. etc. As much as I love this open-ended phase of my life there are some times that it is just so damn hard to stay focused... especially in this crazy city I choose to live. In the 30 mins it took to walk to Sarah's house, I swear I had about 30 thoughts about my next move in life. All polar-opposite from the one that came before it.
As my woes ceased from spilling forth, my friend became the sage that she is and gave me some of the best advice ever: soak it up. The right decision will be easy to make, but soak up as much as you can interms of emotional/mental stimuli to make sure you FEEL the way to the right decision. And soak up this time in your life because times are coming when you will be more grounded and you will wish you had more options... but that day, is not today.
Realizing a decision didn't have to be made tomorrow or even the next day was comforting... After 8 months I still don't know what I want. But knowing that I did not have to know put me at ease. And I know that when that time comes to 'know' I will be ready to make a decision. But until then I am still foot-loose and fancy free... and slowly on the upswing to feeling like myself again.
Monday, August 10, 2009
What NOT to do at a wedding
When it comes to what one shouldn't do at a wedding, I could probably write a few chapters based on my own wedding antics that have led to some hilarious stories to tell over the years.
--There was the time I drank a bit too much and made fun of my ex-boyfriend's friend for not having much hair (i.e, Are you sure its there? Because I am struggling to see it... -- I wasn't trying to be mean, I just was being honest...)
--There was the time that as a single person I has chosen another single person to be 'my date' and then promptly confused him with someone else and ended up making out with the wrong date.
--There was the time I drank too much at the pre-rehearsal dinner and then got sick all over the condo that I was sharing with 5 people. Room service took 14 hours to clean it up... and our AC wasn't working...BAD NEWS.
--There was the time when I RAN FROM the bouquet toss and upset my boyfriend at the time.
I could go on and on, but the truth is when it comes to weddings, and you want a good laugh, stick around... I am guaranteed to do something worth talking about the next day.
The one thing I don't do at weddings is dress inappropriately. Good appearance makes all the stupid stuff I do easier for people to ignore... at least for a while.
I don't think everyone knows this secret, as this weekend I went to a wedding (I was on my best behavior) and here are two no-nos I quickly picked up on.
#1: Wear 'Nantucket Reds' to a midwest wedding (particularly in Michigan).
#2: Wear a bowtie in the midwest when its clear the fad hasn't caught on yet in these parts, and quite possibly never will.
I will leave the list at this, as for this story you don't need to know more than this.
For those of you who don't know, 'Nantucket Reds' are pants commonly worn in the NorthEast, particularly around yachting areas -- Martha's Vineyard, Cape Cod, Newport, Mystic, etc. They are a dark rose in color, kind of like a deep salmon. Its an odd shade to see on a man if you are not used to it.
Now, one thing that I am enjoying less and less as I get older and go to weddings is the singles table gets smaller and smaller, and for me there are less dancing partners to choose from. This weekend was no exception.
At the rehearsal dinner on Friday night it was clear there were only 5 singletons among us: one of the bridesmaids (so she gets first pick), John (who I was staying with), Troy (friend of the bride's brother), Jimmy (friend of the groom), and me.
I got along just fine with all the guys, but none of them were my type, especially Jimmy who showed up to the rehearsal dinner wearing Nantucket reds, a navy sports jacket, and looked like he just stepped off his sail boat.
However, both the BRIDE and GROOM felt differently. And at one point after dinner was consumed, and dancing began, Ben (groom) started walking and talking with me and Kelly (bride) started walking and talking with Jimmy until we all walked and talked into each other and I could see this was my predetermined wedding date. Fine, its their wedding, I am sure it will be fine. Plus, I had had a few glasses of wine and I could get along with anyone at this point.
Me and George (as I accidentally started calling him) got along fantastic. I can be really funny when I need to be, and tonight was no exception. We laughed and drank, and when we went to another bar I rode with Jim, and became best friends. This was until I decided I needed to go home as I was afraid I might bet sick. I was going home ALONE. And did so.
So the next morning, Julia who was also staying with John and I woke me up with, "Hey Paige, does the term 'salmon pants' mean anything to you?" Oh god. I was pegged as George's girl for the weekend. But who cares, its not like I went home with him or even kissed him. I was friendly and fun and I am sure he had more fun hanging out with me than being alone.
That afternoon as we all boarded the bus for the wedding -- well, Sean, John and I all ran for it as we were late -- who is sitting by his lonesome wearing a bowtie? Salmon Pants! I mean seriously, does everything you have to wear be such a stand-out article of clothing? Its my nature to be nice to be people in this situation, but I often feel like I am digging myself in even more. And Jim/George did not seem to know anyone else so be stuck to my side -- from saying I promised to sit beside him and dance with him the night before (who even asks these questions??!!), telling me what table 'we' are sitting, etc. etc. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, but didn't want to be mean.
I was a bit rocky anyway from the night before and knew I wasn't going to last long. When there was a call for the last bus to go, and no one was getting on it, I ran to sneak out as I just didn't want to hang out with Salmon Pants any longer. The wedding was great, but I was tired and I wanted to get home and wake up fresh.
So as the bus pulls away, guess who ran and got on at the last minute? Salmon Pants! OMG. Seriously, its a free bus, and I am sure he wanted to go home too, but still... I would have stayed if he was going!
Anyway, Salmon Pants got as close to me as the bus would allow. But just like in New York, I requested two stops, and went home to find my own bed... and my own sweet dream.
--There was the time I drank a bit too much and made fun of my ex-boyfriend's friend for not having much hair (i.e, Are you sure its there? Because I am struggling to see it... -- I wasn't trying to be mean, I just was being honest...)
--There was the time that as a single person I has chosen another single person to be 'my date' and then promptly confused him with someone else and ended up making out with the wrong date.
--There was the time I drank too much at the pre-rehearsal dinner and then got sick all over the condo that I was sharing with 5 people. Room service took 14 hours to clean it up... and our AC wasn't working...BAD NEWS.
--There was the time when I RAN FROM the bouquet toss and upset my boyfriend at the time.
I could go on and on, but the truth is when it comes to weddings, and you want a good laugh, stick around... I am guaranteed to do something worth talking about the next day.
The one thing I don't do at weddings is dress inappropriately. Good appearance makes all the stupid stuff I do easier for people to ignore... at least for a while.
I don't think everyone knows this secret, as this weekend I went to a wedding (I was on my best behavior) and here are two no-nos I quickly picked up on.
#1: Wear 'Nantucket Reds' to a midwest wedding (particularly in Michigan).
#2: Wear a bowtie in the midwest when its clear the fad hasn't caught on yet in these parts, and quite possibly never will.
I will leave the list at this, as for this story you don't need to know more than this.
For those of you who don't know, 'Nantucket Reds' are pants commonly worn in the NorthEast, particularly around yachting areas -- Martha's Vineyard, Cape Cod, Newport, Mystic, etc. They are a dark rose in color, kind of like a deep salmon. Its an odd shade to see on a man if you are not used to it.
Now, one thing that I am enjoying less and less as I get older and go to weddings is the singles table gets smaller and smaller, and for me there are less dancing partners to choose from. This weekend was no exception.
At the rehearsal dinner on Friday night it was clear there were only 5 singletons among us: one of the bridesmaids (so she gets first pick), John (who I was staying with), Troy (friend of the bride's brother), Jimmy (friend of the groom), and me.
I got along just fine with all the guys, but none of them were my type, especially Jimmy who showed up to the rehearsal dinner wearing Nantucket reds, a navy sports jacket, and looked like he just stepped off his sail boat.
However, both the BRIDE and GROOM felt differently. And at one point after dinner was consumed, and dancing began, Ben (groom) started walking and talking with me and Kelly (bride) started walking and talking with Jimmy until we all walked and talked into each other and I could see this was my predetermined wedding date. Fine, its their wedding, I am sure it will be fine. Plus, I had had a few glasses of wine and I could get along with anyone at this point.
Me and George (as I accidentally started calling him) got along fantastic. I can be really funny when I need to be, and tonight was no exception. We laughed and drank, and when we went to another bar I rode with Jim, and became best friends. This was until I decided I needed to go home as I was afraid I might bet sick. I was going home ALONE. And did so.
So the next morning, Julia who was also staying with John and I woke me up with, "Hey Paige, does the term 'salmon pants' mean anything to you?" Oh god. I was pegged as George's girl for the weekend. But who cares, its not like I went home with him or even kissed him. I was friendly and fun and I am sure he had more fun hanging out with me than being alone.
That afternoon as we all boarded the bus for the wedding -- well, Sean, John and I all ran for it as we were late -- who is sitting by his lonesome wearing a bowtie? Salmon Pants! I mean seriously, does everything you have to wear be such a stand-out article of clothing? Its my nature to be nice to be people in this situation, but I often feel like I am digging myself in even more. And Jim/George did not seem to know anyone else so be stuck to my side -- from saying I promised to sit beside him and dance with him the night before (who even asks these questions??!!), telling me what table 'we' are sitting, etc. etc. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, but didn't want to be mean.
I was a bit rocky anyway from the night before and knew I wasn't going to last long. When there was a call for the last bus to go, and no one was getting on it, I ran to sneak out as I just didn't want to hang out with Salmon Pants any longer. The wedding was great, but I was tired and I wanted to get home and wake up fresh.
So as the bus pulls away, guess who ran and got on at the last minute? Salmon Pants! OMG. Seriously, its a free bus, and I am sure he wanted to go home too, but still... I would have stayed if he was going!
Anyway, Salmon Pants got as close to me as the bus would allow. But just like in New York, I requested two stops, and went home to find my own bed... and my own sweet dream.
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