Stayed and our Fictional Couple Alter-Egos

On April 27, 2012 By KathleenIn Bio Pics, DatingLeave a comment

Colin & Jennifer — We read like a Jane Austen novel... except for the fact he's marrying someone else.

“Your relationship with Greg reads like a Jane Austen novel,” Dani observed. “You’ll probably end up with him. In an over-sized, creepy stone house in the English country side.”

Greg and I did sound a lot like a Jane Austen novel — Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, to be precise. A meeting that started with a snub. But eventually unavoidable interaction, blinding prejudice and wounded pride gave way to inescapable endearment and genuine affection. But 3 years after our romance began to bloom, Greg is a successful Boston-based consultant engaged to a lovely Harvard med student. Their professionally-photographed facebook engagement album makes me throw-up a little every time I look at it.

It was Greg’s engagement album and the subsequent flashback to that remark from Dani that got me thinking: if Greg and I were Lizzy and Darcy, then for every relationship I’ve ever had, there is surely a corresponding fictional couple.

A Former Prospect: Kathleen Kelly & Joe Fox, “You’ve Got Mail”

It started online. Like Kathleen & Joe, we share a love of books, old and new. I’m the firey, independent shopkeeper. He’s the business man with a golden retriever and a hidden mushy side. Through emails, we slowly became trusted confidants.

you-ve-got-mail-original — We were a Joe & Kate, right down to the central park meeting. Luckily, his gallery didn't put mine out of business

And then one day we met in Central Park.

“I hoped it would be you.”

Cue tissue box.

In the movie Kathleen and Joe were the total antithesis of each other outside their protective digital bubble, — he even put her out of business. Luckily, my Joe’s gallery won’t put mine out of business.

A Recent Fling: Carrie & Mr. Big, “Sex & The City”

He was the several years my senior high-rolling businessman with a predilection for runway models and a chronic commitment problem while I’m the curly-haired, fashion-focused relationship blogger. To my friends, he’s known as “My Favorite Mistake.” All signs pointed to a train wreck, and yet, we couldn’t resist each other.

Unfortunately, much like Carrie and Big, neither one was very good at saying “no” to the other… even if he is a republican. Luckily, it didn’t take us 5 years to figure out we were a deadend.

The good friend: Kermit the Frog and Fozzie the Bear

kermit and fozzie — They're a classic combination

“I had a dream about the event,” he said to me. “I don’t remember what happened, but I remember running around trying to find you because I needed you to fix something.”

“Are you sure it was a dream? That sounds an awful lot like last Tuesday.”

He laughed, and we continued to discuss plans for the redux version of an old collaboration.

“I feel like Kermit getting the band back together!”

“If you’re Kermit, does that make me Fozzy?” I replied.

“Wacka, wacka!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The One I’m Holding out For: Nick & Kate, “No Reservations”

Nick thinks Kate’s the best chef in town and is happy playing sous-chef to her executive chef. Their styles are somewhat conflicting, but their partnership is deliciously well-balanced perfection.

Inside the Mind of an Online Dater on a First Date, Part 2: The Countdown

On April 11, 2012 By KathleenIn DatingLeave a comment

The following post was written by the exceedingly funny and insightful Brooklyn-based guy behind the blog “Datestable” (apparently, there are some good things happening in Brooklyn.) You can read about his dating experiences by clicking HERE or following him on Twitter: @datestable.

Enjoy!

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In the sometimes too-predictable world of online dating, there are those pleasant surprises when the script gets thrown out the window, and two people enjoy a totally spontaneous, organic connection full of laughs, meaningful glances, and prolonged silences pregnant with ineffable feeling…Unfortunately, most online dates are nothing like that. Instead, they go something like this, at least for me:

T minus 3 days: Date/location set.
T minus 2 days: Phone numbers/other means of contact exchanged.
T minus 1 day: A text confirmation is dispatched. Hopefully the other party confirms.
T minus 12 hours: I make sure my teeth and hair are brushed, hygienic products and olfactory enhancements are applied, presentable clothes are worn.
T minus 6 hours: I remind myself to resist that pile of onions in my Halal cart order lest I risk social suicide.
T minus 1 hour: I look in the mirror to make sure there’s not a giant booger hanging out of my nose, or a big splotch of toothpaste on my chin. If there’s toothpaste, I remind myself to check that at T-12 hours and curse all the people who have seen me throughout the date who chose not to point this out.
T minus 5-10 minutes: I arrive on location comfortably but not pointlessly early. If I’m at a bar that fills up quickly after work or on a weekend, I have time to grab some seats, which she is sure to appreciate (or, at least it solves a minor but unnecessary first-date problem of awkwardly waiting for comfort).
T minus 2 minutes: I peruse the beer/wine list, preparing myself to wow her with my vast knowledge of spirits. At this point I may also start to wonder if those weird angles in her photos were intentional.
T plus 2 minutes: I glance at my watch and a few at the door, curious about how she will make her entrance and how I will look to her. This might also be a good time to check on a few near-certainties (is my fly zipped, etc.).
T plus 5 minutes (pre-smart phone era): I start to get annoyed, checking my watch and phone more frequently.
T plus 5 minutes (post-smart phone era): I feel slightly more relaxed, launch Words with Friends or Draw Something.

Date Late

T plus 15 minutes (pre-smart phone era): I am now fully annoyed at not getting a heads-up, wonder if this will finally be the time I get completely stood up, start to get annoyed when I’m asked if I want to order a drink for the 3^rd time, contemplate passive-aggressive text, decide against it and end up calling or texting to voice my concern.
T plus 15 minutes (post-smart phone era): Getting frustrated with a bad board in WWF or not being able to guess what my friend’s squiggly lines are supposed to be. Forget all about date, fail to register vibrating/ringing of phone as she sends an SOS after being mugged in the adjacent alley.

Date On Time
Showtime: You size each other up nervously, hug or awkwardly shake hands, and proceed to judge one another physically for a few seconds while ignoring what the other person is saying. If you’re both satisfied, a lovely evening may commence. If one of you is much happier than the other, one of you will be really frustrated very soon and the other will have some grievances to air with the friend who thought this was a good idea. If both of you are equally dissatisfied, you might be on to a beautiful friendship.

Inside the Mind of an Online Dater on a First Date

On April 9, 2012 By KathleenIn Dating, New York City2 Comments

beat up kicks — The shoes a guy picks for a first date say a lot.

Okay. Here we go. I’m early. Should I text him? No, I’ll just wait. Well, what if he’s early too and already inside? I don’t want to be waiting out here like an asshole.

I’ll text him. Okay. done.

He’s running a little late. I’ll go inside. I hope they have bar snacks at this place. I haven’t eaten all day and I swear, I’ll eat my purse if they don’t have bar snacks and he’s much later.

Is my lipstick still on? God, I hate lipstick. Especially lipstick marks on my glass, from my own lips. Where’s my compact?

I hope he’s not shorter than me. He said he was 5’11, but that probably means he’s really 5’8, because if he was really 5’11 then he’d probably say he’s 6-foot. I mean, if I were 5’11, I’d say I was 6-foot. But then again, I’m 5’6 and I say I’m 5’5… but that’s because I’m a girl, and I wear heels. Technically, my height is adjustable. I don’t want to date a man who wears heels, I mean, this is not Louis XIV France. Then again, I like a man in cowboy boots and cowboy boots have heels.

I hope he’s not wearing cowboy boots. Unless he has a ranch. I don’t think he has a ranch. He’s from Brooklyn.

Okay, there he is. He’s walking right at me. He looks like he’s taller than me. Phew.

But I can’t make out his face. He was ruggedly handsome in his profile picture. Oh, no. His hairline –it’s not only receding, he’s practically bald. Dammit! I should have known when he had hats on in EVERY SINGLE picture.

They’re always balding.

Always.

But hey! No big deal. Prince William’s going bald, and he’s still a catch. So let that one go.

What kind of shoes is he wearing? Remember that guy that wore the beat-up sneakers on the first date? The ones with the holes? What made him think that was a good idea?

He’s here.

Oh. Shit. He’s going in for the hug. Aim right!

Phew! He’s definitely taller than me. And he smells good. And those are nice shoes.

The bar didn’t have snacks. I probably shouldn’t order the bourbon. But I want a Manhattan. And, boy, am I gonna need it….

When Ranting On Your Blog Doesn’t Turn You Into the Next Mark Zuckerberg

On March 3, 2012 By KathleenIn Bio Pics, Breakups, Dating, insights/observations4 Comments

Blogging is dangerous business. Originally, They Told Me to Find a Rich Husband was supposed to be anonymous. For a long time, even after I had given the “About” section a named authoress and a face, googling me wouldn’t get you to my blog. Somewhere along the way, probably thanks to Facebook, that changed. Now, anyone doing background on me will find TTM2FaRH front and center on the first page of search results.

Is this a problem?

Up until today, the answer would have been “no.” There’s nothing I’ve written that I would be ashamed to have a boss or family member read. A few boys doing their pre-date due-diligence have stumbled on this page — what they uncovered had never amounted to a strike against. Quite the contrary.

And that’s largely because I had adhered to a few simple rules: never be mean, never complain.

Boys behave badly, boys break your heart, but never make your blog about them. Keep it about you. Because sometimes, you behave badly. That’s more or less been my motto.

But I broke my rules. In a moment of frustration, I riddled off and published a post I shouldn’t have. For the first time, I made it solely about them. And it was mean-spirited. Thanks to google, it was found. I was rightly put in my place.

“One cannot be always laughing at a man without now and then stumbling upon something witty” — so wrote Jane Austen in Pride & Prejudice. Stumbling upon something witty is what TTM2FaRH hopes to do. Yet in the same book, her best loved hero, Mr. Darcy confesses: “I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself…My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

The keyboard is mightier than the sword, and used recklessly, offers the Mr. Darcy’s of the world reasons enough to loose their good opinions.

There are enough blogs out there that ridicule men — Fail Males, for example.They Told Me to Find a Rich Husband will not be one of them.

An Essayist Fails to Find a Moral: or The Boy Broke My Heart and Taught me Nothing about Life. What a Jerk.

On February 20, 2012 By KathleenIn Bio Pics, Breakups, Dating1 Comment

broken-cup-fragment-of-broken-glass-white-background-glass_3220050 — An essayist breaks a cup. She writes an essay. She learns and shares a life lessonl. No pressure.

A personal essayist carries the weight of the world on her little writer’s shoulders.

She breaks a teacup.

She writes an essay about breaking the tea cup.

She turns introspective.

She employs wits.

She jerks at the heart’s strings.

She considers the social impact of breaking the teacup.

She turns a seemingly insignificant moment into a neatly resolved story with a moral and rounds it out with insightful commentary on the way we live now.

No pressure.

I like to think of myself an essayist, or perhaps an essayist in training. I’ve always believed that there is a story behind everything – and every story is interesting if you tell it right. There should never be a lack of inspiration, as long as you’re in the mood to be creative.

And there is certainly never a lack of inspiration when your favorite subject is the way we love now.

letter_writi_24714_md — This is how I look when i'm trying to write an essay...

After several years in the trenches of Love’s War, I’ve decided every first date can provide preliminary material for a minimum of 3 essays. For each date thereafter, the number of possible papers increases exponentially.

As you stop counting singular dates and start measuring your relationship in real time frames (i.e., weeks, years), you can generate an endless number of moralizing assemblages of prose.

I’ve never had a problem finding a greater life lesson or an aha! moment of self-reflection in a first date… until Gary.

Gary came pre-approved with the Grimm’s Fairytale Stamp of Prince Charming Approval. He was everything I had ever designed for myself in the Simms World of dream mates. I was ready to fall in love with him. Fate dangled him in front of me just long enough for me to get my hopes up and then, it whoosed him away.

Sitting pen and paper in hand a few days later, I was at a loss. I find myself asking:

What was the fucking point of that one?

If I could have walked away having learned something worth sharing I would feel better about Gary’s intrusive foray into my dating life. Be a jerk, I say, but at least lead me to an “aha!” moment in the process!

Thus, instead of rising above the fray of emotion to bring this to a resolved closing remark, I end insight-less. Essayist major fail.

20070101_pointless_incessant_barking — woof woof

Pass me the Lace & Dark Chocolate. I’ve Changed My Mind About Valentine’s Day

On February 13, 2012February 13, 2012 By KathleenIn Bio Pics, Dating1 Comment

What are you doing on February 14th? Will You Be Mine?

“What are you doing on the 14th?” Brian asked. “Would you be our Valentine?”

When Brian says “our” he means him and his Cliff. And their housemate. It’s the best Valentine’s Day a gal could ask for. There will be great conversation. There might be candlelight. There will likely be pasta. I’ll definitely be wearing that lacy item I bought using my Victoria’s Secret gift card — but that’s for me, not for Brian, Cliff, or the housemate because sometimes a gal needs to feel a little femme fatale on night out… even if she’s the only one who notices.

In my elementary school youth, Valentine’s Day was one of my favorite holidays. Everyone would come into school bearing candy for every one of his or her classmates. At the end of the day, you would have as many “Will you be Mine?” notes as you had kids in your homeroom.

It was a holiday of equal opportunity love.

Then we developed hormones.

tim burton cartoon — Tim Burton's drawing more or less summed up my feelings about V-Day. I had turned a little bitter

Eventually, I spent the days leading up to the holiday lingerie shopping with my girlfriends as they went to pick out that special something for their sweethearts or went bouquet-buying with my guy friends who didn’t know whether or not roses were too cliched. I had managed to dodge Cupid’s arrows, and so was best put to use playing Venus’s other little helper.

I grew a little bitter. “Valentine’s Day is a holiday developed by older married women to make younger single women feel inadequate” –> this is something I apparently wrote in a notebook one year. I think it might have been one of those many years when the guy I liked decided to take my roommate/best friend/someone else out for Valentine’s Day instead of me.

punch studio valentines — This box of victorian-style collage valentines, by Punch Studio, change my mind about Valentine's Day

Last year, I found a box of Victorian-style Valentines at a bookstore. They appealed to my inner history nerd and so I bought them. It was time to drop the bitter single girl act that had plagued my late teens and early twenties and to return to being that youthful innocent who loved that Valentine’s Day was an excuse to wear excessive quantities of pink lace, an excuse to eat lots of chocolate, an excuse to tell people you care about that you care about them.

And so each of my friends received a vintage Valentine in their mailbox, complete with a LOVE stamp.

I don’t have a Valentine in the traditional sense this year, but I’m content. I have good friends, a box of Valentines that need to be postmarked, dark chocolate, and that something lacy for that someone special — myself.