The bras hanging from the ceiling vibrated to the heartbeat of bass and the staccato cracks of the bartender’s bullhorn. “Redneck Woman” blared from the speaker where I sat, drinking a rum and coke and watching the bachelorette party girls shimmy.
Posts under ‘Lurve/Luff/Like’
Like me, like my blog
My sister, Megan, mentioned it only a few years late. “Your blog? It’s kind of funny sometimes.” Now she reads it everyday.
Curating my own exhibit
I recently read about The Museum of Broken Relationships in Croatia. Forget the dreaded process of packing an ex’s things up for destruction, donation, or return - you can send them in to be curated. Current museum exhibits include random trinkets, a cellphone, and a wedding dress, all with a story attached.
Three squeezes
Holding hands with someone else recently, I remembered you. Remember that time I’d been reading some article in some magazine? It was surely something overdone, like “Little Ways Couples Show They Care.” Amazingly, it didn’t involve retail or sexual positions. Real couples supposedly contributed their own little tips, which ranged from breakfast in bed (I filed that under “Never gonna happen.”) to scrapbooking (”Cool, but next!”).
The flowers I didn’t want
There was this really beautiful Friday. Then a beautiful Sunday. On Monday, he told me, “Not to jinx things, but you kind of rock my world.” I wryly responded, “All right. This is the part in the movie where one of us gets cancer.” (I recently watched Love Story).
Conversations with Life Coach
There’s a fine line between genius and madness. This is kind of what it’s like with Life Coach - he think he’s a genius, and I think he’s crazy.
Hoping for the worst
This isn’t going to become a blog entirely dedicated to the eakupbray, but I want to share a favorite poem.
Derailed
I’ve been sitting on something since last Tuesday, and now I think I’m ready to share. I wish it were amazing news, like I inherited a penthouse apartment from a generous stranger or my children’s book has found a publisher, but instead, all I have to announce is:
Dating a tool for his tools
My friend, Julia, was telling me how she spent the last few months dating a guy, because he could assemble the things she bought for her new apartment. Those diagrams can be tricky and no, I don’t think Julia is any less a feminist. She’s just really bad with spatial reasoning.
Get-over-him jams
Someone I love was recently hurt by a stupid, lying, y-chromosomed scoundrel. I’ve been imagining ways to make his life miserable (if I were willing to follow through) and makes hers less so. Sounds like a cd of “I’m better off without you” break-up songs is in order.
