My Life: The Romantic Comedy

So I’m convinced I’m starring in my own romantic comedy. I’ve got a LOT of great friends, a lot of shoes, my hair stylist is a Facebook friend and my mother says I should “try not to act as smart” as I really am and not look like someone who was fished out of the sewer (my words. Hers were, “make sure you are always well groomed and smell nice.”) Today, my Dove chocolate fortune said to "love without boundaries," ok, the first one said "naughty can be nice," but I only had two. My password was “marryme” (it’s not now, smarty pants), to invoke the power of positive thinking. He did not. That, my friends, is the opening of a chick flick.

Perhaps I should preface this by saying that people – strangers and family (like my aunt) alike – have told me that I remind them of someone… hmm Bridget Jones. Except for I have a good job, don’t smoke, don’t really drink a lot, or, for that matter, sleep around, and my parents are the poster children of happily ever after. However, I do own those very penguin pajamas (thank you Raf and Kars) she wears while singing “All By Myself.” Some friends have evolved (thankfully) to say that I am more of a Sex and the City girl, but at this point, it feels as though my life is an amalgamation of several films, all with the same story plot. Single girl, not so great luck in love, something out of the ordinary happens/not-so-great relationship ends and voila, love comes along, something not so great happens, but love pulls through and everyone lives happily ever after.

So thus far, I’ve gotten up to the not-so-great relationship ends part quite a bit. Often, you think when you are in one of those relationships that is very story-book like – you know, you do something crazy like in the Wedding Date (no, I did not do anything like that whatsoever) or you fall for each other by exchanging letters like in You’ve Got Mail, you think it will happen, maybe this is it… but then it turns out to be not quite.

It is never easy, because anything that involves feelings rarely ever are, but it is a bit easier when the other part of the relationship is not a great person. The most heartbreaking ends, however, are where both people are good, when you are both lovely and wonderful, but where, as one heroine puts it, “the timing is all wrong.”

Sometimes, we are in relationships that, for one reason or another – good or bad – we need to get out of. But you care about each other, so you don’t… then it is two years later, you are two years older, and still not any closer to wearing the giant white gown (although let’s face it, nobody really thinks it stands for purity anymore do they – ok, maybe they do, but certainly not this readership). Or maybe you suddenly realize you want to get married or have a baby or a dog or chia pet.

As an erudite elderly man in The Holiday said, you need to be the leading lady, not the best friend. But how do you even know when every single moment is packed. When you FEEL like you are living life? Is it because you are living life for you or because you are helping others live their lives? This came about also in the movie 27 Dresses. A cult classic – the cult being every single woman who has been a bridesmaid, or an otherwise good friend of the bride. She was so busy being a bridesmaid that she had no time to find her own prince charming.

That movie ALSO brought about the classic single woman (ok, maybe not always single) activity. Checking the wedding section (aka mergers and acquisitions) of the Sunday Times. It is always so romantic sounding – at least the longer ones are… and if you read closely between the lines, you can see that the brides were too, once, in their own romantic comedies. That the path to the aisle wasn’t so easy. That sometimes the timing wasn’t right and then magically, when you are both 79, you meet each other at a senior citizens party in Boca and you get that old feeling again.

I, however, am not waiting until then. I’m going to be the star of my own romantic comedy or at least in the sit com that is my life starting now. And though I know this story will have a happy, VERY CHEESY ending (which is ok in my life as it is not subject to movie reviews) like Sex and the City the movie, it would be great if the plot moved along a leeeeeeeeeetle bit more speedily, unlike Sex and the City the movie.

My Dog Has a Maid; Rather, a Nanny

Oh yes, be careful what you wish for because it can – and often does come true. Dumpling has moved back home, complete with toys, extra treat and, yes, a nanny. She went back completely potty trained and fully able to shake hands on command. She slept through the night and was able to hang out with people pretty much anywhere. She loved classical music, watched tennis and golf, you know, the usual stuff dogs do. But she never really could be left alone, and she still loved to wake up at the crack of dawn to go for a walkie...

The thing is, I kind of miss her. A lot. As much as I love wearing nice shoes again and not having to go out at 5 am to walk her in my pjs (seriously, would YOU dress up at 5 am? Like after a month of doing it?), I miss her companionship. That is the whole point of having a dog, no? But she is happier now, surrounded by loving parents and an ever-growing fan base. And I am free to traipse around on nights and weekends, not watch golf, and sleep in.

Anyhoooooooooo, much has happened since the last blog entry, and am feeling a bit morose at the moment, so… eh, until next time…