High School Was So Seven Years Ago

Except I've entered into a weird vortex that has propelled me back to that time in my life.

It's so weird. Within a span of eight days, I've managed to completely revert back to High School Rachel. Clothes strewn all over my room, building up to NYC snow bank levels? Check. Driving my mom's car to go meet friends at Magnolia Cafe? Check. Family tension, tongue biting and eye rolling? Check.

But the biggest "Ladies and Gentlemen, We've Taken a Time Machine to 2004" moment took place the day after Christmas.



We're the Three Best Friends
That Anyone Could Have

Every year, two former high school classmates - one from my grade and one a few years older - have a joint birthday party. A Reunion of People I Don't Despise, I call it. Having attended the past few years, it's become an event I enjoy - look forward to even. Although it's a little awkward blast from the past, we've all moved on from that time in life. (Mostly) gone are the harbored judgments, and stale stereotypes from those years growing up together. It's weird, like we've all gone and become adults all of a sudden. Real people.

With the exception of one.

Before I came into town, I had been exchanging periodic Facebook messages with the HS Crush, the first (and foremost) CGS manifestation in my life. [Back story: He caustically cremated my fragile little 16-year-old heart. While I totally own up to being a wee bit of an idiot (read: psycho) about it all, years later - last year to be exact - he told me that he had in fact liked me. He was just a dumbass (read: jackass).]

Okay so now we're all on the same page. A page where I thought we were all adults. Now back to the party.

I was with my friend Keaton (honorary high school friend but really from college), S, and The BFF when I received a text from the HS Crush. Apparently he had seen me from across the party, thought I looked "sophisticated," but didn't bother to say hi. He was leaving to grab some food, he might be back, but maybe we could do lunch the next day. 

Those pitchers are $5. Maybe that's why I always have fun?



Whatever.

He never showed back up. Not surprised.

Then, what was shocking, was that he texted me the next day about lunch plans! I was blown over. Wow, he really has changed.

Except, of course, he hasn't. After I responded with a proposed time, he never followed through.

And that was the last I heard from him.

Because we're back in high school and he sucks.

(Unlike high school, though, I lack any semblance of CGS about the situation. It doesn't matter. At all. It's just the total lack of common courtesy that is annoying. But that's just how he is.)

Can I go back to Real Life Rachel now? Please?

Actually this is pretty close to real life.
Unfortunately we are that creepy
and good at dancing.

Home Sweet Home

Exhausted. Another way too early flight from Newark, this time with "adorable" children seated directly behind me, expressing their energy with incessant kicks to the back of my chair and high pitched squeals. Six am, no big deal.

From the Austin airport I was whisked away by my mother to my brother's wedding venue to go over details with his fiance and her mom. Finally I feel like a part of it all! It's so exciting to see it all coming together, but before we can focus totally on that, we have a little thing called

C H R I S T M A S

to celebrate. In another city no less. With Dolo. Who is more stressed out about which movies will we see!?! as opposed to anything else. God love her. Then family reunion pre-wedding, cousins from all over. Did I mention I'm excited!?!

Mix in reuniting with some of my favorite friends - and seeing The BFF who I already miss (co-dependency at it's finest!) - and as you can see I'll be a little busy for the rest of 2010!

Hopefully I'll find time to catch up between now and then, but if not:

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!

(Note: My excitement being expressed in italics and exclamation points is a direct result of getting two hours of sleep last night. Wooo!!! Is it bed time?)

In Hindsight Maybe I Should Be Blogging About Knitting?

Except of course I don't know anything about knitting. And let's be honest, that seems like a hobby that might require more patience than I'm willing to devote at this point in my life. So I guess I'll stick to writing about my life - and dating - adventures. But it might get a bit tricky.

This weekend when I went to a holiday party hosted by a friend of The BFF's. After a little while, a guy came up to me to say hi. He knew my name, but I didn't know his.

Turns out he was roommates with Kenneth The Page. Awk-ward, although he was very nice.

Then awhile later I was talking to a cute guy. He went to get a drink and came back to ask "are you going to blog about this?"

Oy. Word travels fast.

Oh, and it turns out that after flirting with me for hours, it seems he might have a girlfriend. Ugh. Why has this been my thing recently?! (Although this time I promise it wasn't my fault.)

2011: Year of guys without girlfriends who accept the blog!

Can't be that hard, right? ...

Guest Post: The Mutual Fade Out

There are many beautiful phenomena on this planet—gravity, sunsets, peanut butter and jelly, leaves changing color, finding a taxi when it’s raining, cold pizza—you get my drift.
High up on the list is my new favorite—The Mutual Fade Out. If you don’t know about ‘The Fade Out,’ well I happen to just have something about it right here. Learn something new. Understand that since no one posted any stories means I was 100% correct about my conclusion. I win.

So now that we’ve reviewed the ‘Fade Out’ let’s take a closer look at its hotter, more sophisticated cousin the ‘Mutual Fade Out.’

The ‘Mutual Fade Out’ is the perfect fairy tale ending when you live in fear of hurting someone’s feelings while at the same time you don’t have a soul. HOWEVER, the major distinction between the two is that your partner actually happens to feel just as indifferent as you about your so-called ‘dating situation.’

Therefore there is a lack of creepiness on either side. You won’t be receiving a ‘Holla! What have you been up to?” text at 3 in the morning or any ‘hey babe it’s been a long time, what’s up with that?’ voicemails. Basically you have disappeared from each other’s universes and no one’s complaining about it.

Oh sigh. It’s the best.

Two Classy Ladies

Card carrying member of the Clean Plate club
...and the Cup of Vodka Martini club.

Since I am against making the effort to go on actual dates, I will share with you the lovely "Wife Date" The BFF and I had at a new restaurant that just opened this week. Because that's how we roll. Baller city.

Beauty & Essex, whose founder/chef Chris Santos also started Stanton Social and is a judge on Food Network's Chopped in case you care, was
a-mazing.

The decor is just the right combination of gaudy and chic that allows you to simultaneously feel a little modern day Mad Men while also getting a hint of Atlantic City. You'd like it.

Plus they serve you complimentary champagne in the bathroom (which, while kind of defeating the purpose of going to the bathroom, is still awesome). Also, this is kind of weird, but I'm just going to say it: I totally judge places based on bathroom decor. And this "lounge" was beautiful.

While the placement of our table left something to be desired (i.e. wedged in between two actual couples having the most annoying conversations ever), the food was excellent.

And that's saying something considering The BFF and I are both fairly big food snobs (plus we had the desire to be extra critical since that's how Santos is toward the contestants on Chopped).

Splitting - as suggested by our waiter - a bunch (too many maybe) dishes, the steak tartare on crispy rice cakes was my favorite. Why did it beat out the rest? One word: horseradish.

Love the stuff.

And while I was (almost) at the point of licking it off my plate, I realized that there is a short list of ingredients that, if on a menu, will make my ordering decision for me. Here's what I came up with:

• Horseradish
• Goat cheese
• Wasabi
• Braised short ribs
• Crispy shallots
• Pancetta (let's be honest, pork belly and bacon too)
• Mushrooms

Oh, and if something is served with a side already (cough cough herb-dusted french fries), then count me in.

Anyway, it was a fun night and a great reminder that although I sometimes complain about being single, I am thankful for this time in my life. I'm at the pinnacle of selfishness. And if I want to treat myself to a delicious "I totally could have bought groceries for a week but oh well" dinner for no reason other than I Just Feel Like It (totally legit reason in my book) on a Wednesday night with my favorite roommate, I can.

And I will.

P dot S: Below is our pre-dinner conversation, proving our maturity. Thank goodness Gchat enables The BFF, S, and I to still have chat rooms like we did in middle school.

Me: are we drinking at dinner?

The BFF: i vote martini

S: its all martinis for me in the new year...

The BFF: what a classy resolution! i second that

Me: your idea of a martini is a cup of vodka...and maybe some pickle juice...let''s not pretend like we're that classy

The BFF: oh right.

Someday we'll be classy, someday. But considering The BFF complained at dinner that her martini was "too smooth and not Vodka-y enough," I'm not quire sure it will be tomorrow.

I have been watching an awful lot of Millionaire Matchmaker lately (to the chagrin of The BFF who cannot stand the show), and one important takeaway I've gathered from it - besides the fact that there really are no datable people in New York - is that you have to have a list of non-negotiables. A few characteristics or qualities that are required in your ideal person. Otherwise you're just wasting your time.

I've come up with mine:

Would live in Austin.

Wants kids and will be a good father.

I Am Nothing If Not Self-Aware

I am aware that it is self-absorbed to
take a lot of solo shots. But it's my thang.
And I don't care.

On Thanksgiving Eve I received the blog comment "You are such a fake bitch."

Whaaat?

The next morning, while calling my family to wish them a happy holiday, I shared this with my mom and grandma. Typical Thanksgiving banter, obv. My complaint, though, wasn't that someone had left me a mean note, "I mean, duh, IAAB!" it was that I do not perceive myself as being fake (on this blog). (In-person is another story because sometimes it is socially required of you. I mean, we are not animals.)

But this blog is a forum for me to share my feelings/genius musings as well as a diary to account for this portion of my life.

Yes, I am a total revisionist historian and yes my feelings and opinions might tap dance all over the chart from one day to the next, but I am not fake! I can be a bitch one minute and nice the next. But that's not fake!

My mom's response to all this was, "Well at least you are self-aware."

And that's the truth. And, to go along with this recognition of perception, I also make an effort to be introspective. This includes conducting an awful lot of internal therapy sessions. How are we feeling today? Do you hate everyone and everything? Oh things are going well? Isn't that grand.

Very exciting, I know, but it helps me stay sane.

And so I've done some pondering lately about all the upcoming excitement involved in my trip home. Twelve days of family and friends (and hopefully warmer weather). Celebrating Christmas, reuniting with my closest college pals and high school buddies (one perk of going to school in the same city you were raised), and of course my younger brother's wedding.

Have I mentioned that? I'm not sure. The first thing anyone says when they hear about it is "Wait, how old are they?" They are young, but also the most mature people ever and have been dating since high school. When my brother called me last year to tell me he was going to propose, my reaction was, "Oh wait, you aren't married already?"

So the fact that he is getting married before me is a non-issue. It was assumed - especially after I broke up with The College BF to move to New York - that it would happen. Also the fact that I can't even make a long-term commitment to my gym membership points to the fact I might not currently be ready for long-term monogamy.

It is also fine that I'm sans date. The idea of babysitting someone instead of spending time with all the family in town is not appealing.

These areas expected to cause concern have not, which is great.

But I have unearthed one small feeling of apprehension. It's begun to bubble up that a certain Spotlight-Demanding Oldest Child Who Typically Thinks The Universe Revolves Around Her might have a slight problem with not being the center of attention.

And so I've been practicing a good mantra to deplete my self-absorption: "It's not all about you."

It won't be, and it will be perfect.

(But since this blog is all about me because it's mine! aren't we proud of my mature emotional progress??)

My Weekend with Washington Insiders, Politico Namedroppers & Craigslist's Finest

Labor Day 2010. Maria, we did tons of historic
stuff without you on this trip!

This weekend I went to DC for a final visit before Meredith, my college friend/ roommate/sorority sister/"Pls let me live the dream" birthday texter, moves back to Austin.

Knowing that Mere tends to get a little stressed, I jumped at the chance to be there for moral support, which included selling the car she has had since she was 16. An end of an era. I told her my sales pitch was going to be about how "I've known this car as long as I've known her, and it's just as stable and reliable as our friendship."

Sadly it didn't come to that. The first person who saw it bought it without even taking it for a test drive. Quite a bit of faith for a 1996 Ford Explorer. (Tangent: Meredith initially tried to list the car for the ambitious price of $2500, but it didn't get much interest. She told me she might need to "pimp me out in a bikini on the hood." I assured her that would not do her any favors at this point in December. Slashing the price in half proved to be a much better option.)

All in all, it was a great trip - the fourth I've taken to see her there - and I realized that I'm not just sad she's leaving, I'm disappointed to lose my favorite go-to weekend destination. Hopefully, though, I'll still make it down there occassionally, especially since I made a new friend while I was there (Hi Carin!), and reacquainted with an old one.

The highlight of the trip - besides, of course, witnessing the parade of Craiglist humanity marching through Meredith's apartment - was getting together with one of my oldest family friends who moved there in the fall. He's the son of my parents' best friends from college, and his mom is the equivalent of my Fairy Godmother. She provides support, encouragement, advice, amazing hostessing, and "just for fun" gifts. Abra cadabra!

So anyway, her son and I have known each other since I was born and he was a toddler. Recently his dad put together a funny video montage of our families' visits over the years, and I'm pretty sure it shows him dumping me out of a hammock of something. Thanks.

But since those frequent childhood visits, we haven't seen each other in years. The better part of a decade maybe - I must have been in high school and he had just started undergrad at Harvard? Anyway, now that he's back on the East Coast (and newly single), our mothers have been encouraging the idea that we rendezvous. I mean, it is Match.Mom after all. What else would you expect?

My visit to see Meredith was the perfect opportunity since she's one of the girls who has participated in turning his childhood domain into our Wedding Central Sorority House 2.0. As my mom would say, "It's fun to connect the dots."

We went to Michel Richard's Central, one of Meredith's favorites, and it was a fantastic meal. The food and the company. Afterward we both concluded: He's a catch.

He's notoriously brilliant (you might have guessed from the Harvard mention), and that's pretty much been the main thing I've known about him over the years. But it also turns out that he's cute, charming, and fun.

I would make a joke about how my parents should start working on my Arranged Marriage Dowry, but I'm afraid either (or both) of our mothers might spontaneously combust. And we can't have that happen right before Christmas, now can we? Nothing spoils the holidays like spontaneous combustion...

Plus that whole he lives in another city deterrent. And as this blog as my witness, I am not going down that path again.

(But obviously I'm the biggest blog hypocrite of all time - after my passionate protest against them, I had like 400 iced coffees this summer! - so really what do my promises mean anyway? Note to self: Consider a future in politics.)

P dot S: While taking advantage of the drizzly-weather-slash-TBS-plays-awesome-movies combination we watched Father of the Bride (Pts I and II) before I left on Sunday, analyzing them both for the millionth time. (Why was George Banks so against change!?)

It made me realize how proud I am of Meredith for embracing this transition much better than Steve Martin's iconic character would have.

(And because I'm a self-important name dropper who loves to make parenthetical asides, I'd like to take this time to remind you that Steve and I run in the same social circles these days. And I never would have demanded a refund.)

That is all.

"Guide to Grandmahattan"

That's what The BFF suggested I change my blog title to last week because apparently I'm boring and not providing her with the quality of dating drama posts she requires.

"You spent last night hanging out with an engaged friend and eating an entire pie!" And your point is?

So on Thursday night I agreed to go out with her. Did I meet someone? Yes.

"Hey do you want to come home with me and pass out?"

Um no.

And the hibernation continues.

(And so does the propensity that we become crazy cat ladies. Which reminds me, have you noticed that there are an awful lot of commercials focused on cat health lately? Not that there's anything wrong with preventing feline obesity, just an observation about advertising targeting a newly-discovered demographic. See below:)



It didn't have to be this way.



Matchmaker, Matchmaker

I'm only semi-ashamed to admit this, but I'm borderline obsessed with Millionaire Matchmaker. Particularly because this season takes place in New York and that makes me like things 1000 times more, but also because I find matchmaking to be a far-too-overlooked way to meet someone.

The current window in which I'm most likely to meet someone I'm interested in is from about 10pm to 2am. I'm not saying it can't happen, but I am doubtful that the guy who I met while shoving onion rings in my face at a burger joint in D.C. was my soulmate. Mostly because after asking my name three times he still couldn't remember it. Call me old fashioned, but I think that I'd like my FH to know my name. Or am I being too demanding? (Although anyone who still likes me after seeing me devour a totally unnecessary 2am meal might be my soulmate, maybe I should have made more of an effort?)

Lots of people turn to online dating. I'm not against the idea, actually I am kind of intrigued about the ability to be so selective and stalkerish up front, but I'm also lazy. And jaded. Technology has increased our social circles far and wide, but I think the options are overwhelming. Part of me is intimidated. Part of me is lazy.

And so now

The Dog Said It All

Awhile ago I wrote about how you can tell if a guy is taken and/or gay by the type of dog he has. Basically, if a guy is walking a small, white, fluffy dog, chances are it's his girlfriend/wife's or he's gay. 

Yeah, this is what you would call a stereotype. You might find that offense. Well, here's a secret I've learned living in New York: most stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. 

I'm just sayin'.



Princess needs to go out.

So this little nugget of insight caught me off guard today when I left the gym and saw an incredibly attractive guy, whose workouts frequently coincide with mine, tethered to a maltese. Talking to another man with a maltese. Hearing his voice for the first time, my theory was solidified.

I'd really thought my gaydar had gotten pretty accurate, but this one snuck right by me. I mean, he does work out a lot, and he has incredibly toned vanity muscles (props for you if you get that Always Sunny reference), but I just thought maybe he was just a lil' conceited!

Nope. Just another attractive gay man. Which is great since there's a shortage of those in this city!

P dot S: In case Santa happens to click on the link to my post from last December, I'm still in the market for a bulldog puppy. K thanks!

Dating Detox

For the last two holiday seasons, I was in a relationship. (Same boyfriend, two separate attempts at dating.) Now I'm alone. Well, I have The BFF. So that's something. But in terms of guys, I am incredibly single. And it's going to stay that way until March.

Last year I wrote about the Turkey Drop. Basically, whatever your relationship status is at Thanksgiving will continue past Valentine's Day. So there you go. It's science. Like the Farmer's Almanac or whatever.

To add to my chronic condition of single-itis, I just realized I'll only be in town one weekend between now and January 15. Everyone knows vacations are potential-relationship killers.

Plus, you know, I have some really important activities I need to cross off my agenda during the next few months:

- Staying warm inside (preferably wearing sweat pants). I think in some circles it's known as hibernating.

- Eating. It's the holidays. Also, sometimes food seems like love. Or makes up for the lack thereof. Whatever, it's awesome and there's so many delicious opportunities this time of year. 

- Celebrating with friends. Combine it with the above point, and it makes calories count less I think. (Yes, science is my thing.)

- Working out. This holiday-related obesity is not going to combat itself.

- Watching the following Christmas movies on TV no matter how many times you've seen them:

1. Home Alone
2. Home Alone 2
3. Elf
4. Christmas Vacation
5. A Christmas Story

So that about covers what I'm up to as part of my Dating Detox. Unless of course you happen to have Prince Charming's phone number, in which case, I guess I could slightly deviate from my winter plan...

(Let's be honest, this Detox might also end with a Bloomin' Onion.)

I Love You, I Love You Not

Bipolar dating

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I will always prefer warm weather to cold and sun to snow, but there is something undeniably magical about December in New York. Within a week, the entire island switches from Gotham City to Santa's Workshop.

Little pockets of cheer throughout even the most mundane areas. Sparkling lights, big red bows. Bells and baubles, wreaths and trees.  

I adore it.




Hard to light the menorah when it's made of ice.

 

Embracing my ear muffs, puffy coat, and scarves, I ventured out in the cold with Ashley to soak up the festivity this weekend.



Don't worry, we managed not to get locked out of any places. (Too soon?)

We braved the masses and meandered through the Union Square and St. Bart's holiday markets (my life's radius also includes Grand Central Terminal and Bryant Park markets too, making question how many spoon jewelry artisans can this city have?).

We made a stop by Wink! boutique in SoHo to meet Katy from Sugarlaws, one of my favorite bloggers. She was so cute and nice, styling me in some adorable dresses and making it very hard to remind myself that I'm supposed to be shopping for others right now.

The weekend went by too fast, which is only a precursor to how the rest of the month will fly by too.

In a little over two weeks, I'll be home to celebrate in Texas. Where it will probably be 80 degrees. And then it will really feel like Christmas.

P dot S: When we were little, my aunt would give each of us a specific ornament. I would get bears, one brother got choo choo trains, and the other rocking horses. As you can see, some of my bears migrated north. It's one of my all-time favorite Christmas traditions.

What a Difference a Year Makes

Last December I was miserable. I was stuck in a job where I'd been for a year too long, and I was habitating with psychos in the inner circle of hell. I could not shake feeling helpless, hopeless, and hapless. Really fun to be around, as you can imagine and/or you experienced first hand.

But as soon the calendar switched to 2010, the momentum began to swing in my favor. The BFF and I moved into an apartment that we love, and I got a new job that pays the bills and where I learn something new every day.

Even though I still don't have a sweet clue how my life will turn out, I'm still blessed and thankful.

Wow this is incredibly positive for a Monday.

And The Love Affair Continues

Um how did I not find this for 10 months?

"Ain’t got a boyfriend at home but got plenty of cheese...Gonna slip into my slanket and just watch some TV"

That might be my weekend. Happy Friday.

I Hope This Gets To Them

So by now you've heard the story about how a guy enlisted his roommates - The Daylights - to make a video for his girlfriend who moved away to grad school. A viral (marketing) love letter that gets to her "organically."

My friend Brooks, quickly becoming my favorite West Coast gossip girl, has all the first-person details on her blawg. Obviously.
Word is spreading fact. Gawker's Gizmodo posted it, OK Magazine wrote about it, Katy Perry Tweeted it, and even my own mother put it on Facebook!

In case you haven't seen it yet, here ya go:



I love grand gestures. And I love this song and video.

But what do I love even more?


Those eyes. That bone structure. That hair. They're still dreamy. Sigh.

Discovering that this band The Daylights is the same band that used to come to my church's middle school and high school youth group events. Once I spent a week with them.

The twins, Ricky and Ran Jackson, were oh so dreamy, talented, and genuinely great guys. Highschool Rachel loved them.

And I'm so happy they're making it big. They deserve it.

(Mom, if you're super bored, there are pictures of me with them in one of my photo albums in my old room the guest room. If you scan one and send it to me so I can update this, you'll be my favorite mom. Ha, now you can see how it feels using the "favorite" incentive in front of a noun that there's only one of in our family, i.e. "favorite daughter"! xoxo)