Posts Tagged ‘weddings’

Lookin’ Good

My sister’s wedding was one month ago.  Since I was burdening bridesmaid duties, I couldn’t really think in blog.  My mind was preoccupied with making bouquets, making a brown dress look good, and making time to swig down some Captain Morgan and ginger ale.  I enlisted Cousin Jo-Jo to write a post of what she observed during the Manhattan-wedding weekend. 

     With almost a year of marriage under my belt, I now feel like an expert on how it works.  And I am more than happy to explain how it works – it’s just as confusing as dating.  The only difference is now I have a permanent date to all family weddings.  The latest wedding brought Zia to us from all the way across the country and got me a front row seat to seeing her in action.  This is not something I have seen in a few years and I was eager to see how things were going with all of her new “training!”  Here is what I walked into – a typical family wedding with a not so typical family.  But, in true Italian style, they were hovering around Zia for two reasons – one because they haven’t seen her in a while and they needed to make sure each hair on her head is still there; and second, because they all needed to ask when her turn is.  When will Zia get married?  After a few drinks I even turned into one of them!  Maybe that’s what marriage does – makes you give crazy ultimatums about going home with random men to your cousin whom you want to see find that guy…or at least that “for tonight” guy!  My ultimatum was a bit cheeky.

     Here’s what I saw: a beautiful woman who is self-confident, funny and energetic, and men who seemed shocked by this phenomenon.  I get the whole “guys want to save the girl thing,” but honestly, in the world we live in we women have all saved ourselves.  We just want someone to come with us on the journey.  The men from the new side of the family seemed to love and enjoy Zia.  Although, dating wise, you could tell that they were not really into strong, confident women.  This is something I can’t figure out.  I don’t think this is anything any woman gets.

     Zia looked good.  She pulled off what could have been a very unflattering dress and made it look great.  The girls (mangoes as she calls them) were up and perky even in strapless dress.  And she was relaxed and happy despite all crazy wedding circumstances.   And yet nothing.  If a girl like Zia can’t make it happen, I’m not sure who can.  But alas, Zia and readers, there is someone out there for everyone.  Unfortunately, there are just lots of frogs to kiss on the way to that fairy tale ending.


Keeping Hope Alive

     Mama J has always been supportive of me finding someone and, as a good friend, wants to help.  Pair her up with our college friend, Sarcastic Bride, who, ever since I’ve known her, has always wanted to pair people together and disregards science and believes love really does make the world go’round; this means no safe hiding place for me.  Mama J had every intention of being my wingwoman this weekend, so I gave her the opportunity to write this guest post of “Zia-in-action,” what she observed, and how she “helped” out.

Post by: Mama J

I love a wedding: the romance, the flowers, the dress, the cake, the open bar, and the start of a brand new life together.  However, for some of us a wedding can mean so much more.  For some it means, “Finally, my son found someone to spend his life with, so he can get out of my house.”  For others it means, “Young love still exists and there is still hope for the rest of us.”  Or it could mean, “Game Over.”  And for a few, such as Zia, it means, “Time to scope out what possibilities remain.”

For Labor Day weekend, Zia and I attended Sarcastic Bride’s wedding at a Virginia country club.  Everything was beautiful – the weather – the bride and groom – the flowers and, of course, Zia!  Here we are, at a wedding in the suburbs of Washington DC, hoping to find some hint of young available, professionally driven men.  Having lived here, DC is definitely the place to be for such hopeful connections.  My reinforcement in this wedding man hunt was Sarcastic Bride, another determined friend who wants Zia to find that perfect man.  She informed Zia earlier that she was strategically seated facing some available male wedding guests.  It was so nice of her to think about others during this most important day of her own life!

The ceremony was quick and hard to scan the guests, so afterwards, it was cocktail time.  Zia and I took a seat near the entrance to the bar and hors’dourves, to enjoy a good view of men coming and going.  Unfortunately, I am not smooth in my some of my behaviors.  One of the first guys to walk toward the bar, I apparently looked him up and down and said, “. . . No.”  I said it out loud!  Luckily he didn’t hear me, but Zia sure did and pointed out, “You know you said that out loud?”  Oops!  Oh well.  When Zia left to go to the restroom, I continued on my man hunt.  A robust, clean-shaven guy walked by, I glanced at his face, then at his hand for a ring, and then felt a hot stare from his girlfriend, who was walking behind him.  Claimed.  Oops, again!

We spoke to one of the bridesmaids and let her in on the hunt.  She said that her cousin was the best guy she knew and that she already approved of Zia and she should go for it.  He was dressed in his all white Navy uniform and was single and available.  However, she failed to mention that he was Claimed’s brother and a smoker.  So, I guess we can cross the White Knight off the list also.  Another eligible bachelor was the Maid of Honor’s brother, but he looked illegally young.

Well, it was time for dinner and we made our way to our table.  There were three sets of couples, two other single ladies, me, Zia and one eligible guy.  We got to the table and found we were facing the wall.  That didn’t fly with Zia since she was promised optimal viewing.  She managed to switch seats with a couple who wanted to sit next to another couple at the table.  This unknowingly placed Zia next to the eligible guy, Hopeful Henry.  He is a friend of Sarcastic Bride’s brother, who works in the government, but doesn’t talk politics.  That gave him immediate bonus points for having a real job and not boring us to death.  In fact, Hopeful Henry was genuinely interested in learning about Zia – her job, her college life, her friendship with Sarcastic Bride and the weather in LA.  He was a talker, but not an annoying chatty one.  At some point, Sarcastic Bride did present a slide show of photos from the couple’s past, which included a photo of her and Zia from their cruise.  Zia was wearing a striking red dress and we pointed out the photo to Hopeful Henry.  Zia said, “It’s hard to see well from this angle.”  At that time he said, “You good to me from here.”  (I wonder if he intended to say that out loud.)  Zia said, “Thank you.” 

Even though he didn’t ask her to slow dance (so high school), they seemed to have had a few good conversations throughout the night.  Also, he didn’t drink too much and he wasn’t macking on any other girls, like the other drunk guys.  More bonus points from me!  When he was leaving the wedding, he told Zia, “Well I hope to see you at the brunch tomorrow.”  I could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

And as it turned out, Zia and I were able to make it to Sarcastic Bride’s parents’ brunch.  Hopeful Henry was there and he flashed us a large smile when he saw us, I mean when he saw Zia.  I had my 3-year-old daughter with us for Sarcastic Bride and her husband to meet also.  At arrival, we gathered up some food and ate outside among family members, then found a nice quiet spot next to the Koi pond in the backyard.  My daughter wanted to explore, so I let her run about.  Hopeful Henry made his way through the sliding glass door and bee-lined in our direction.  They began chatting and I conveniently left Zia and weaved throughout the house and the other guests to find my daughter.  When I stopped by, only for a few minutes, to check in of course, they were talking about her travels.  I said a couple of things to him, and then left again to find my daughter…again.  After several minutes, Zia found me and said she had to go to the restroom and Hopeful Henry had gone back inside the house.  We lost track of him when Sarcastic Bride and her new husband arrived at the brunch.

However, Hopeful Henry made a point to find Zia upon his departure.  He reached into his pocket and said, “This is a little cheesy, but here is my card.  If you are ever in DC, definitely get in touch.”  Even though I came to the conclusion that he’s a safe bet and lacking some physical shazam, I, of course, hammed it up by saying, “Remember, we’re trying to get her to move here.”  He said with smile aimed at Zia, “That sounds good. Talk to you later.”  I did notice that the card was not in a case or a wallet, but loose inside his pants.  To me, this means he thought about putting it there for a reason, being hopeful.

My Southern Charm

     As my ninety days come to a close, what better way to finish up my Love in 90 Days project than at the hub of new love and commitment – a wedding.  So I packed my bags, hopped on a plane and headed out to Washington D.C. this weekend for a college friend’s wedding.  And since flying ain’t what it use to be, I crammed everything into a carry-on bag and a purse to avoid paying that annoying $25 checked baggage fee.  Doing this also meant foregoing a razor.  Simple fix though, made an appointment with my girl, Lily, for a waxing. 

     I have been going to Lily for years.  She’s the one to make an appointment with if you are pressed for time.  She’s pretty speedy and yet still thorough. 

     I arrive at my appointment.  Underarm – done.  Bottom half of legs – done.  Thighs – done.  Moving onto the bikini area…I have no aspiration of being a swimsuit model so I just get the basic.  Slight rotation of my right leg and a little shifting of my underwear – nothing unusual so far.  She begins waxing and then I feel her shift my underwear a bit more.  Then suddenly I feel wax go where I have never felt wax go before.  My mind starts racing:  Did she mean to do that?  I just wanted a basic, she knows that.  Oh, f%$#, this is gonna hurt.  Lily bends my leg even more, gets in position – YANK!  I flew about five feet off the table.  To relieve the pain she applied pressure, looked over her shoulder at me and gave an animated smiley face.  All I could mouth was, “I’m okay.”

     She continued waxing my right side and my mind continued racing:  Crap, there’s another side to do!  If she doesn’t do it, it’ll be uneven.  Oh God, is this my Sex in the City moment where I end up with a surprise Brazilian treatment?

     She switches to my left side.  Starts out normal, like the other side did.  Then another shift in underwear and now I’m laying with my legs flopped on the table like a frog in seventh grade biology class about to meet his maker.  More wax placed in unmentionable places.  Lily gets in position and I tense up just knowing what’s coming and then – “Holy Mary Mother of &$%!  Another five foot jump off the table, applied pressure and an animated smiley face that I think she thought was somehow soothing – not so much. 

     As I’m laying there while she is finishing up my front, my mind starts racing again:  What can she damage on my backside?  Did she actually damage anything from this side?  If Tenacious Ken lived closer I’d probably utilize his area of self-proclaimed expertise and have him take a look to make sure everything is still looking ok and in working order.  (For those of you who don’t know much about Tenacious Ken, click here and find out why here popped into my head.)

     Lily then pipes up, and in broken English says something along the lines of weekend and they won’t find hair.  I hope she realizes I’m attending the wedding, not entertaining at the bachelor party.  I pieced it all together and basically my girl Lily is preparing me to “get lucky” this weekend and wants everything to be presentable.  (Jeez, I hope my dad is not reading this post right now.)  She didn’t go Brazilian, but she was nearly there.  We will just call it Costa Rican.

     I flipped over and everything went as it normally does.  Until I felt my underwear shift again.  Apparently Lily wanted to get the butt cheeks too.  (Tenacious Ken again popped into my head.)  She was an artist at work.

     I got home slightly traumatized, afraid to look and so exhausted I went straight to bed.  The next morning, while in the shower I was washing away some wax residue and – whoa, that area has never been smooth before.  Got out of the shower caught a glimpse in the mirror.  It’s not even a landing strip.  It’s more of a parking space.

Good Woman, Down.

Everyone has their thing: loser-magnets, asshole-magnets, mama’s boy-magnets, . . .crazy-magnets. . .  

     My cousin, Jo-Jo (name has been changed to protect the magnet from those unwanteds who may be reading), and I do tend to attract the crazies.  Even though Jo-Jo is deserting me in the land of loons to get married this weekend, I have been given some comfort through this blog, knowing I’m not alone in this; as I’m sure my girl, Man Shopper, a kindred soul, will attest to.  In honor of my cousin’s last few moments of singlehood,  I thought we’d bid farewell to a couple crazies we both once knew.

     A few years ago, before she met her man, Jo-Jo and I went to Disney World to run in one the races they host, just for fun.  (Yeah, we’re cool like that.)  While there, we met up with another cousin at a bar he liked.  (Hey, I’m Italian, I have cousins everywhere, gimmie a break.)  As we’re sitting at the bar, I see in the corner of my eye, some guy run his fingers through his hair, pose, and then all 5’4″ of him took off doing a catwalk, obviously heading for his prey.  I turned to Jo-Jo and said, “Oh my God, you’ll never believe what I just saw.  A guy -.”  Mouth froze because of the sudden appearance of the man on my right.  Oh man, that Rico Suave preparation was for me.  Don’t remember the guy’s name, but with some ski-like arm swing motion, announced he was from Sweden.  His friend was from who knows where and was taken aback by the presence of my male cousin and kept commenting on his muscle size. 

     Not having much of a clue what the two were saying and dodging spit bullets, we managed to finish our drinks and make a clean get-away.  If they wanted the full “American treatment,” they were going to have to look else where.

     A few weeks later I had flown back home for Thanksgiving and a funeral.  (We like to multitask in my family.)  I borrowed Jo-Jo’s car to head to said funeral (not her side of the family) and decided to stop at the gas station to fill it up before returning it.  I stopped at the gas station down the street from her house.  It’s one of those full-service only places, so you’re not allowed to pump your own gas.  In comes Buck – a short scraggly guy with a patchy beard and a trucker cap.  I knew at first glance he was a talker.  I hesitantly rolled down my window and told him to fill it up, cheap stuff was fine.  The problem was, I was paying with a debit card which Buck had to process meaning the window had to stay down.  And that was all he needed, one inch of my window and then diarrhea of the mouth.  “I just moved here from Texas.”  “This is first job here.”  “I didn’t graduate from high school.”  “I like it here so far.”  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”  “I think I’m going to go to night school.”

     I thought the gas tank was never going to fill.  I was trying my damnedest to avoid eye contact and any other interaction.  I dodged questions about myself and his hopeless attempts at asking me out.  But he was a crazy, none of that mattered.  The gas tank finally filled and my card finally processed and I got the heck out of dodge.  I drove the mile to Jo-Jo’s house, walked into the house where she and other family members in the kitchen were standing and said, “I veto the gas station guy.”

“Huh?” she said.

“I veto him.  He’s a crazy.  I learned about where he went to high school, why he moved here…”

“Oh, Buck,” she said.  “He’s from Texas and has a kid and…”


“I already know him.  He’s already asked me out.  Twice actually.  I went there one day and got his whole life story and then went back a couple of weeks later and got the same story again.  He didn’t remember me from the first time and told me everything again.”

     Needless to say, the family was very amused by this.  Not only do we both attract crazies, but we attract the same crazies.  

     She called me a few weeks later to tell me that Buck started dating one of the mom’s at the school she worked at.  Apparently that gas attendant charm worked on someone.

     So, dear cuz’, I wish you well in your new life.  And on behalf of all other single crazy-magnets out there, I want to thank you for taking yourself off the market leaving more goons for the rest of us.  We really appreciate it.