You may now kiss the Best Man

I know that everyone says this, and no one really believes them, but I'm actually having fun being single- and I haven't even moved to London yet. It's only going to get better!

Yes, I know I've shed a few tears over my now single status, but the next time I feel the need to do so, I need to remember weeks like this one, to remind me how fun it can be.

On Sunday, I went to the wedding of not just one, but two of my very good friends. It was a lovely wedding, and I teared up a little bit, which I've never done at a wedding before, but then again, I've never known both the bride and the groom equally well before. I knew them both before they were a couple. I was so happy for both of them.

The wedding was easily the best I've ever been to. I saw lots of people I hadn't seen before, some unexpected, and there was lots and lots of dancing. As it turns out, I knew the Best Man. He played on my intramural softball team in college. It's been years, which led to a bit of an embarrassing situation when I first walked in. He was talking to my friend, The Other Violet when I walked over to them before the ceremony. "Hey Violet, it's great to see you again!," he said. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him, but still tried to hide my confusion with an enthusiastic hello and handshake. I couldn't fool him, though, and he quickly reintroduced himself, and I knew who he was immediately. I was a bit embarrassed, but I didn't even realize he and the groom were even friends, let enough best man-worthy friends since childhood, so I wasn't expecting to see him there. He had the benefit of the groom telling him I would be there, and my name was in the program, (I read a prayer; kind of a big deal and all), and I hadn't had a chance to look at the program yet.

During the reception, there was lots of wine and dancing and flirting with the Best Man. After the reception, we all congregated in a room at the hotel for an after-party, during which the Best Man suggested we go "get some air," so we went outside and sat next to the pool, chatting for a few hours. Until it started raining, at which point we had to go inside. There wasn't really anywhere we could go inside. He was sharing a room with two friends, as was I. All presumably passed out in bed. So, he walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight. Sorry I don't have a more salacious story of a drunken hook-up, but it was a very gentlemanly thing to do, no?

In the morning, I had to hit the road immediately for mine and Grayer's trip to The Great Outdoors. It just so happened that a tropical storm was working its way north as we left. The trip was about six and a half hours. It rained the entire time. Camping and hurricanes don't generally go well together. By the time we got there, we figured we had better upgrade to a cabin or something, or risk waking up in 3 inches of muddy water. Luckily, we were staying at an outdoorsy version of Disneyland, and they had plenty of "cabin tents" available for us. They were large army tents, already set up on a raised platform, covered by a tarp, and included two beds. Excellent.

Despite the upgrade, I couldn't sleep all night. First of all, it rained hard. Really, really hard, and the rain was really loud on the tarp roof. But I also couldn't sleep because I kept thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong. The road could wash out and strand us here, a mud slide or flash flood could sweep us away, some murdering rapist could come to our cabin tent and there isn't anyone close enough to hear us screaming over the rain. I think I kept waiting to hear dueling banjos, like in that movie I've never seen because I know it will scare the shit out of me.

It was still raining in the morning when we set out for white-water rafting. It turns out that a hurricane creates ideal conditions for rafting. The water level goes way up, making the river faster, the waves bigger, and a lot more fun. We were in a boat with 4 guys, 3 of them funny, and one of them very awkward. He said things like, "Here's a fun fact for everyone in the boat" and "I love beavers." But the other guys and our awesome guide made up for the awkwardness, and when our guide yelled at us to paddle "Faster! Harder! Faster! Harder!" they all yelled, "I'm so close! Almost there!" right back at her.

Our guide wasn't a hot bearded man, she was definitely a woman, but it didn't matter. She was awesome. And the guide of the other boat did happen to be a hot bearded man (the beard definitely seems to be a requirement of all rafting guides), and we hung out with him later that evening in the pub. He really wished we had been in his boat, but instead he was stuck with a seriously lame group made up of members of a 50-somethings, single adventurers club. He told us stories about how lame they were, and we told him stories of how awesome our boat was, and then beat him at ping pong. Sadly, along with the beard, heavy smoking is also apparently a requirement of rafting guides, and that really cuts down on the appeal. It was still fun to flirt with him, though, and he did tell us to please come back and request to be in his boat.

It's been a pretty good week for this single lady. And by this time next week, I'll be in London, and it will only get better. Stay tuned, this fall is going to be a doozy.

Into the wild

In about an hour, Violet and I will be embarking on a camping/white-water rafting trip (that's right, be impressed with our outdoorsy-ness).  We're really looking forward to getting away from it all and relax in nature (from my laid-back job and Vi's unemployment).  To prove that two single girls can be outdoorsy without the help of a strong hot man (unless said man is nearby, in which case we may need help starting a fire).  Yes, "roughing" it for a few days will really be good for us (especially if we find hot bearded rafting guides to get rough with).  So wish us luck (partially from falling out of the raft, mostly with the bearded guys)!

Take me home, country road

My version of snowboarding.  

I've returned from my "spring break" trip to Montana, visiting my best friend Greenley, her man, and her dog (my favorite pup in the whole wide world).  It was the first time I've seen them in a year, and needless to say, we made a scene at the airport.  Greenley and I are not meant to be apart.

Montana is gorgeous.  The mountains.  The wildlife.  The cute mountain lodgey buildings.  The snow.  The high male to female ratio.  What the what?  Greenley, why didn't you tell me that before? I would have visited months ago!

It's true, in the picturesque town in which they live, there are far more men than there are women.  And the women that do live there are already taken.  And you have to factor is the male tourists who always seem to be coming through town. Finally, a state I can get on board with! Men's men, with beards and outdoorsy scents.  I should have made it a longer trip.

Perhaps my new life plan will be to move to Montana and attract mountain men and tourists alike with my natural pheromones.  I'll go snowshoeing a lot because I'm outdoorsy and awesome and hopefully large wild animals will not be attracted to my natural pheromones because my natural pheromones are pretty potent.  I'll buy mace, just in case.  I'll drink beer, Montana men are good at drinking beer and so am I.   Since two-year-olds can ski in Montana, I best be learning how.  I can already snowboard with the best of them.  Unless the best of them can actually make it down mountains without falling every 20 feet in which case I can't snowboard with the best of them at all.  Also, I can't turn left.  I can hardly even go straight.  On a snowboard that is.   So really I just need to find a 20 foot run that veers to the right and isn't very steep and I'll be golden.  If I do fall, I'll blame in on the altitude, then I'll go drink beers in the lodge.  I'll find snowpants that really accentuate my curves.  Yeah, that's totally possible.  These Montana mountain men won't stand a chance.

Natural pheromones

Yes yes, I'm finally blogging about our trip. I'm also finally getting around to doing my laundry and I promise you, the smelly backpack roasting in the heat was a much more pressing matter. Why does it smell you ask? Let me paint you a picture. In the midst of the pristine beaches , cloud rain forests, and an active volcano, were two sweaty, smelly girls with unwashed hair and unkempt eyebrows . No, Violet and I do not look good when we travel. We choose function over flattery, makeup and hair products never make it on the list, and to top it all off, due to a rash, I was not to wear deodorant. That's right I didn't wear deodorant the entire trip. If the animals couldn't see me, they could definitely smell me (just ask Vi).

So what better time to meet my perfect match. It's as if the Costa Rican gods were playing a cruel cruel joke on me, picking him up out of the abyss and placing him a seat away from me, eager for conversation. If there were ever a man that was my type, The Bearded Wonder is it. Beard? Check. Funny? Check. Lovably goofy and outgoing? Check. Young professional, loves to travel, knows how to cook and appreciates the art of a well-crafted beer? Check. Even Violet had a crush on him (A friend crush she says, a you-should-marry-my-sister crush).

The Bearded Wonder is from Washington, D.C. (boooo!) and was traveling Costa Rica alone for the week. We met him on a boat. Chatted with him on the bus and ended up rooming with him in the hostel for two nights. We cooked dinner with him. We went hiking with him. We laid in bed giggling with him (ok he wasn't in our bed, but his ramblings were making us laugh). He did not annoy us. He did not care how much we sweat (he sweat plenty). He did not rob us. He did not plant illegal substances on us to enter the country with, a la Fucking Jed in Bridget Jones (which is good considering 1. neither of us have a top barrister-Colin Firth type to bail us out and 2. I don't want to have to call him The Bearded Fucking Wonder in my diary).

I know what you are wondering. Did anything happen with TBW? The answer to that question is, are you freaking kidding me?!? For starters, Violet was always with us. But more importantly, I was disgusting (please refer to the first paragraph, however in addition to body odor, add a damp-clothes-smell and bugspray). So no, nothing happened. To be honest, we couldn't really tell if he was into me. Sure he was flirty and wasn't outwardly not into me, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. If only he knew how much better I can look/smell.

All in all it was the perfect 2 and 1/2 day relationship. We almost convinced him to move on to the next town with us, but sadly he decided to go ahead with his original plans (This could indicate that he wasn't into me but the huge dilemma he was having trying to decide could indicate that he was into me). After sweaty hugs, an exchange in email addresses and a group picture, we parted ways. As we watched him walk away, Violet turns to me and says "You need to find a reason to go to D.C." Truer words were never spoken.

There is only ONE way to kiss a girl

Hola chicas! Grayer and I have just returned from a little jaunt around Costa Rica. We love to travel. It's an addiction for which there is no cure. The more you travel, the more you want to travel. It's a skill just like anything else that needs to be practiced. Trust me, we've had our share of disasters. One of the reasons we like it is not only because of the things you learn, but the people you meet. (Travel tip #1: You do not meet people staying in hotels or resorts. Hostels increase your experience tenfold.)

This trip was no exception. In one hostel, we overheard a snippet of conversation from a young whippersnapper proclaiming that "there is only one way to kiss a girl." Needless to say, we were intrigued.

A few hours later, that very same whippersnapper came up to our table where we were playing spoons with The Bearded Wonder (yes, Grayer promises to write more on him later) and a few other randoms from the hostel. Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State introduced himself. After we got over the fact that he was a mere child ("I could be your father," said TBW. "Actually, I couldn't, but I would be."), he joined us for a round of spoons.

After the game, we sent TBW undercover to find out exactly what the ONE way to kiss a girl is. I'm sure Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State was totally stoked to be giving advice about kissing girls to a bearded man nearly 10 years his senior. (Note: Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State did indeed use the term girl, not women.)

According to Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State, a kiss must start gently. Then, you add pressure and alternate. Next, you introduce the tongue and establish a rhythm. Then nature takes over.

And there you have it. How to Kiss a Girl. Straight from the mouths of babes. Traveling is so educational.