Back on the wagon

My friend Tyler recently informed me of his devastating sadness that I had abandoned my blog. You could call this a bit of an intervention. He made me come to terms with my uncaring ways — days spent doing things besides posting my thoughts to this site.

I decided it was time to recover. It's time to get back on the wagon.

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I spent last weekend at a friend's couples shower in honor of their impending matrimony. It was more fun than the earlier women-only bridal shower (yes, men make everything more interesting. We like to keep you around a) so we can laugh at you and b) so we women don't kill one another). That shower was like a slow, tortured death because it was all mothers fawning over my friend.

"Oh, how did you meet?"
"Tell us about the proposal!"
"Have you got a dress? You just must tell me every last detail of your wedding planning until my ears fall off."

It was enough to make me want to hurl. But this new men-included fiesta was different. First of all, there was more alcohol (always good), and secondly, the couple was forced to endure publicly humiliating games for our enjoyment. It was win-win.

The game was that the hostess would ask each one questions about the other --"What's David's favorite color?" -- in private and they would write their answers on cards. Then later, they'd be asked in front of everyone and have to hold up their answers while their soon-to-be-spouse gave the real answer. This was surprisingly entertaining. It would have been better if they'd known less about each other.

There's something disgusting about two people knowing everything about one another, and something so secretly satisfying about watching two people who are about to tie the knot find out they know nothing about one another. I wish it had been the latter.

Nonetheless, I found out that men are a lot smarter than their female counterparts at this game. They've adapted!

While my friend Katherine would meticulously try to establish the fact that she knew every detail about her future hubby, David played it safe and went with can't-go-wrong vagueness.

"Where was Katherine born?" became "The Hospital."

Well I couldn't argue with that, especially after three glasses of wine. Ok, four.

Sadly, the game only taught me how much I don't know about my own boyfriend. But on the bright side, it means our party guests will have more fun when we're forced to play their silly games in the future. Friends: look forward to that secretly satisfied feeling.

'Hi, I’d like a tattoo that will make every man I meet go completely flaccid'

I had dinner with a friend Thursday night who told me a great story that I felt compelled to share with you.

As we savored Coronas and cheese dip, she began to tell me of a family friend who had been dating a man for several years. The man recently died in a motorcycle accident, and my friend’s relatives attended the wake to show their sympathy.

They quickly found that the abandoned girlfriend needed sympathy for more than one reason.

In the brief period between her beau’s death and his wake, she had decided the best way to mourn his tragic passing was to get a tattoo in memory of him.

A gigantic tattoo.

Across her entire back.

Of his face.

As icing on the cake, she scrawled the words, “I Will Love You Forever” below his image.

Now, we all understand grief. But my friend and I were intrigued by the sexual repercussions of her eternal memorial, and the possibilities this girl’s future love life holds.

“What happens when the next guy she’s with has sex with her doggie-style, and he looks up to see the Ghost of Christmas Past staring back at him?” my friend queried. “Is that not, like, instant ED?”

And she would know.

Her boyfriend has five tattoos, the majority of which reside squarely on his bum.

His philosophy, she says, is that he should get something incredibly tacky, stat.

“I know I’ll eventually regret one of them anyway. I might as well go ahead and get it over with, so I can say, ‘Wow. I really regret that,’ and move on,” is his mantra, she says.

This, coming from a guy who has Tigger (yes, the Winnie the Pooh character) inked on his ass, and who has seriously considered procuring a permanent representation of the “Ice Age” squirrel on his inner thigh, fervently reaching for his nuts.

As funny as it would be, I’m thinking that might be a Grade A, regrettable tatt.

Perhaps not as regrettable, however, as a freakishly accurate, life-sized, full-back portrait of your dead ex.

The moral of the story is that nothing’s permanent – boyfriends, marriages, life – except the ink you just injected into your skin.

So you may want to rethink getting his initials inside a heart on your ass cheek. It’ll be a guaranteed mood-killer with your next partner.

Is marriage the new dating?

“I think marriage is the new dating and having kids is the new marriage.”

This is the proclamation made by one free-as-a-bird 21st Century woman in the new issue of Marie Claire magazine.

The article, appropriately called “The Starter Husband,” examines an issue gaining attention in the media, literary and entertainment world -- a nonchalant attitude toward an increasing number of drive-through marriages.

It’s turned up in books, such as “The Starter Marriage” by Kate Harrison and “Not Your Mother’s Divorce: A Practical, Girlfriend-to-Girlfriend Guide to Surviving the End of a Young Marriage” by Kay Moffit.

It even garnered a mini series this summer –- “The Starter Wife" -– starring Debra Messing.

But this article talks to real women behind the phenomenon -– those who have jumped in and out of matrimony, changing husbands like they change their sheets.

Marriage the new dating? It’s a bold statement. A scary one, even. But when you look at today's culture, it makes sense.

We live in a throw-away society, always trading in what we have for an upgraded version. Our televisions and cell phones are perfectly fine, but we want high-def and an iPhone.

We want things until we don’t want them anymore. Why should our spouses be any different?

Many of us have watched our parents split up, too. This can make some who were products of divorces more cautious about choosing a partner in the future, but it also plants a subconscious seed that the option (divorce) is always there. That there’s always a way out.

A few of the women interviewed in the article said they got caught up in planning the wedding instead of planning the marriage. Some, nearing the big 3-0, caved to pressure from family. One said the man she married looked great on paper -– she’d have been crazy NOT to marry the guy.

Most realized they had made a mistake within months of saying “I Do.”

But is that how we should view a commitment to have and to hold ‘til death do us part? As a “mistake” that can be corrected with a phone call to a lawyer?

If this is what’s happening to the 25-30 crowd, I wonder what will happen to Gen Y as we reach the age to start pairing off.

We were pampered and coddled by our parents. They told us we were smart and that we could do anything, go anywhere and be anything. We are accustomed to kicking ass and taking names and getting what we want, when we want it. How will this mentality affect our perspective in a union?

Additionally, I wonder if our "have it now" generation can even fathom the concept of staying commited to someone –- or anything –- for a lifetime.

Our grandparents and even some of our parents held the same jobs or worked for the same companies for decades, maybe even their entire lives. But the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics show workers today average eight jobs before they turn 32.

Do we have any loyalties? Or will we, too, change our spouses, jobs and identities as we grow up?

I hope this isn’t the case. I hope that marriage can still mean something in society today –- that the high divorce rate and the bleak statistics on separating couples don’t disillusion us into the belief that matrimony is no big deal.

When the day arrives for you to say "I Do," I hope you won't be thinking that you can have a do-over.

Please proceed to check out

I return to Athens to find my roommate -- whom I've known, lived with and shared sorority sisterhood for at least two years -- engaged.

Now our apartment is filled with Modern Bride magazine and the reflective brilliance of her shiny new rock.

And I know mine isn't the only residence in Athens experiencing pre-marital bliss.

Apparently once you exceed age 20, wedding bells start ringing and never stop. My friend is only one of a growing list of girls I know who are set to tie the knot -- or already have!

(There’s a whole different list, of course, for the ones who have been “lavaleered” – an inane ritual that I won’t pretend to understand. I figure if the guy’s got plans to marry you, he should go ahead and pop the question already. There’s no need to propose his intention to propose.)

I guess I’ll get used to it eventually. My mailbox will receive a steady stream of fancy invitations…or perhaps Facebook will add another new application: the wedding invitation. That would save daddy some money – grade A paper isn’t cheap.

Maybe they could even get a multiple-store registry going on there. Then the spouses-to-be could elicit presents, not just from close friends and family, but all the hundreds of vague and distant acquaintances they’ve befriended electronically over the years.

It’s how we keep up with everyone’s love lives these days anyway.

If not for Facebook, we wouldn’t care that a high school friend we worked with when we were 15 just got engaged to her high school sweetheart.

Or maybe nobody else cares. Maybe I’m the only one that feels a little shocked and bitter when I see yet another girl I know sporting a ring.

I’m not sure why, because I love being single. There are way too many men out there (cute ones!) to settle down in my prime.

It’s like walking into a grocery store filled with all different kinds of good food and then walking out with the first thing to fall into your basket. You could at least pick up a few samples!

It could be that I feel like, because I’m not ready, no one else my age is either.

“You’re so young!” I want to cry out. “Don’t do it! Go forth into the world and kiss many men! Date often and receive many free meals and drinks while you’re still smoking hot and desirable!”

But everyone is different. There was a time when even I -- yes, I in my young naiveté -- believed I was ready to settle down. Perhaps deep down, my discomfort with the idea of my girlfriends becoming wives is a denial of my own desire to do the same, even though I know I don’t want it right now.

Like I told my best friend – who will utterly betray me if she gets married anytime in the next eight years – a few days ago:

“Perhaps guys are picking them up and putting them in their shopping carts, but we’re not just sittin’ on the shelves – we’re dancing in the aisles, baby!”

(Preferably Publix aisles. They’re cleaner than Kroger and have better bread.)

So, when all is said and done, I sincerely hope that all the fiancés out there find happiness in their selections, and eventually, sometime in the distant future, I’ll dance right into a shopping cart of my own and check the hell out of here!