mawwwwwwage

Recently I went to a friend’s wedding.  During the ceremony, and the reception there after, you could literally see the happiness shooting off this fella and his bride. If I had that hippy-dippy ability to read people’s aura’s, theirs would be a blazing hot pink surrounded by rainbows. It was great to see, and it made me reflect on the past few weddings I’d been to.

 

But the Background should be pink

But the Background should be pink

 

A friend of mine got married a little over a year ago.  And we had been friends for a really long time.  I’m talking, upwards of a decade.  In that situation, you really want nothing more than to be thrilled and excited your friend was getting married.  He found the person he wanted to share the rest of his life with, hooray!

(This sort of ties into my previous post, about my inability to sugarcoat things, and if I should even say anything…the quandry…blah blah blah )

A while before my friend walked down the aisle, I met his then-girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancee.  I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed very sweet…funny, entertaining, in love – and she seemed to take good care of my friend – which is awesome.  We hung out a few times after that, and I truly enjoyed her company.

I clearly remember where everything changed.

::cue ominous music::

One evening, we gathered as a group to one of my favorite local restaurants that was doing this great event called a “Beer and Bourbon” night, where they close down the restaurant, create a special 5 course meal paired with craft beers and Bourbons.  Its so awesome.  So, SO awesome.  We were all having fun, hanging out, and my friend’s girlfriend peers over her beer and goes “JoJo.  I broke him”.  Confused, and assuming there’s a joke somewhere, I got “Well how come?  I didn’t know he was broken!”

“he’s going to marry me!”

::confusion is starting to settle in::

“…okay…that’s great!”

My friend now interjects, and tells me this little story about how his girlfriend updated her Facebook status to “engaged”, spinning a little web of deceit.  He only found out after some of his friends started to text and congratulate him, looking to portray this is a funny joke.  A gag.  Now, I am not the girl who thinks its cool to drag your man down the aisle.  It is not a good look.  Not for me, not for you – not for anyone (and I can pull off orange taffeta).  I truly believe if you are going to marry someone, they have to want to marry you.  Enough to ask.  Of their own volition.  And if they don’t, or you have to trick them into it…you’re simply setting yourself up for failure.

As the evening goes on, she continues to tell me how there is a time frame in when they will be engaged, and then married, and then have children.  If the time frame gets delayed, she has a plan to move it along…by “forgetting” to take her birth control pills.

Hard Stop Number Two.

Yeah, that’s me.  Speechless.

At the end of the day, the only thing you can do is tell your friend the truth.  Which I did.  Afterwards, I continued to hear some horrible things she was doing, and saying about people I care a lot about – people I had been friends with for a very, very long time.  I could clearly see the kind of person she was underneath the exterior she was using to blind my friend.  He couldn’t – and it put a strain on our friendship.  It got to a point where he said to me (after one particularly ridiculous incident at their wedding – mind you, I’m trying to keep this story as vague as possible.  My friends know who I’m talking about, and so will he, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings with all the repulsive details about this woman) that he didn’t think I treated his wife with the respect she deserved.

I disagree, I think I treated her with more respect than she deserved.  If it were my choice, I would never have associated with her again, after I read a text she sent to a mutual friend saying she wanted to punch my friend out – for reasons that are so insignificant and immature – or told me she wanted to trap my friend into marriage by getting knocked up.  And we haven’t spoken, really, since his wedding – which makes me a little sad.

And this, friends, is one of the casualties of not being able to censor what you think of people.

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Sloppy Food? Sign me up.

I love BBQ.  Eating BBQ with 2 gay men (Wifey and Poodle)?  Well, that’s just an extra special treat. 

This place we went to was okay.  Not good, not bad – okay.  My Little Poodle got ribs bigger then the ones tucked inside his tiny poodle ribcage (and subsequently whined about the prospect of getting sauce all over his pretty shirt), Wifey got herself a rib combo and I ate catfish.

Oh shut up, sometimes catfish is a good choice.  We were gonna cruise gay bars after dinner, couldn’t have bbq sauce all over me.

The best part of this BBQ joint we went to, Dallas BBQ, were the giant drinks and the extra shots my waiter slipped me in test tubes.  And the two or three kettle and clubs he made me (f*cking strong, kid) whilst only charging me for one, well, thank you.  It kind of made up for the fact that the rest of the night I was invisible to every one of the opposite sex (think: water water everywhere, not a drop to drink).

The Cheesecake Trials

We’ll delve into my own personal, single life later – and ya’ll won’t be disappointed.  As surprising as it is to believe, I AM single and I DO have a potpourri of personalities from boyfriends/dates/stalkers past.

But this, this story is not me.  I only had the pleasure of hearing it second-hand from a friend of mine, killing time on the train the other day.

**Preface: when I’m on the train, I am as unapproachable as possible.  I’m talking, fake sleeping, fake reading, fake listening to the iPod.  It’s not that I don’t like talking to people, I just don’t want to get stuck in a conversation with someone lasting an hour (or more, if there are delays) when I know we’re going to run out of things to talk about after about 5 minutes**

Moving right along.  My buddy spots me on the train and slides in next to me with: You know women are crazy, right?  As his opener.  Jackpot, I can listen to this.  I bite, and say “Oh, I’m sure you had a hand in whatever happened, but tell me why you think that”

Turns out he met a chic at the grocery store (now, I always hear rumors that the grocery store and the coffee shops are a hot spot to meet people, but I never believe it.  I always think about when I’m at the grocery store – messy, disheveled, coupons flying everywhere, not in control of my shopping cart – but I guess I’m wrong) and they started talking.  He said she seemed nice enough, so they made plans to hang out that Sunday afternoon at a chain restaurant not too far from where we live (think: step up from Applebees, step down from a real restaurant).

They meet, and the first thing he notices is her blackened, dead tooth: “C’mon.  Its 2011.  You’d think she’d get that sh-t fixed by now”.  And her jacked up feet: “First time I met her she had on sneakers, now she’s in flip-flops.  It was awful.  Just awful.”

Ha, now I know here’s where I’m supposed to say “Don’t be so superficial”, but I can’t, because I agree with him.  Keep your jacked up feet in check, ladies, no one likes nasty toes.  The tooth – idk, maybe she just doesn’t have dental.  But when you’re dating, you’re essentially marketing yourself, and if you can’t keep the corns to a minimum…no ones buying, kid.

Apparently it was clear relatively quickly into the date that there wasn’t going to be a second one.  No animosity (fingers crossed he didn’t comment on her toes), they just weren’t feeling it.  They power through dinner and ask for the check.

At the beginning of the afternoon, she had mentioned that she ordered a cake before they got there (hint: this place is most likely known for their desserts) for a friend’s birthday, and asked the waiter to bring it out with the bill.  After watching the bored expressions on their faces and their constant phone checking during the meal, the waiter must have assumed they were a couple, so he brought everything in a combined check. 

Dinner: 50 beans, Cake: 65.

My friend isn’t cheap, but he’s also not a sucker.  He isn’t going to pay for a cake, for some broad, who’s having a party he wasn’t invited to, so he asks the waiter to put dinner on his bill and give this chic a separate check. You can guess what happens here – the waiter mistakenly charged him for the entire bill and asked them to work it out so he didn’t have to get a manager involved.

I’m not always the most reasonable person, but even I would get the money for this dude – even if I had to hit an ATM.  This broad tosses him some attitude and finally says “fine.  Follow me, I have money in my car.”  They get up to leave, head towards the door when…

she falls out in a dead on sprint, cake in hand, cuts off a family at the door and bolts to her car.  You can re-read that if you want, cause I had to ask him to repeat it. 

“Shut UP.  What did you do!” (my buddy is a big dude – all ripped up.  Not the sprinter type though, but I was secretly hoping he ran after her, tripped her, and sat on her back eating the cake with his giant, meat hook hands)

“I just stood there, in shock”.  Weak Sauce.

Here’s the kicker – the next morning she sent him a text “You’re a really nice guy, but I don’t think that we should date.  I didn’t really feel like we had much there”