what a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad blogger i’ve been. i really do want to get things right on this here blog, i swear it. but life gets in the way. and my laziness (a quality that surely never made for a good, and certainly not successful, writer). i know i said this a few months ago, but i am recommitting. i am going to do.this.thang.

let’s start it off with a quote that seems quite applicable lately. i spent last weekend in boston at my oldest and bestest friend joia’s bachelorette party. it was my first party of that ilk; joia is my first close friend to get married. her wedding will take place in just a few short weeks at the decidedly picturesque location of mount holyoke college. she will walk down the aisle looking like a goddess. her skin will glow and her smile will threaten to break her face in half. as a bridesmaid, i’ll be standing up there too, trying not to lose it in front of 150 of her nearest and dearest. note to self: invest in some waterproof mascara.

i want to preface this next bit by saying this: i am beyond happy for joia. when i think about her walking down the aisle and starting a life with the man she loves, my heart swells a little bit.


and this is a big but.

i cannot help but compare my life to hers, and see all that is lacking.

it’s silly, i know. it’s petty, and it’s insecure, and it’s the green monster of jealousy rearing its ugly head. thankfully, i can compartmentalize, and not let my sadness of what i do not have override nor affect my happiness for her.

but i do feel it, the sadness. i compare her life to my life, and i think, why don’t i have that? what am i doing wrong? because i know, deep down, that i am indeed doing something wrong. i see happy couples all around me, not just on the streets and the subways, but in my friends. almost all of my friends are, at this point, in long term relationships, on the cusp of engagement or pretty damn close. and then there’s me, sitting at home on a sunday afternoon, whining on my petty little blog and baking cookies to quell my nerves.

i know that it does me no good to compare my life to joia’s. i know that sometimes she compares her life to mine and feels the same green monster i feel. the grass is always greener, isn’t it? i realize that my knack for comparison is robbing me of the joy i might feel if i could just let it go.

and so i am working on that. but it is work. it’s hard, and it hurts, and it requires that i examine myself and all my flaws and that i beat myself up just a little bit.

in the meantime, i’ll busy myself with finding joia the absolute perfect wedding gift. because she deserves nothing less.



i’ve never been the type of girl to dream of my wedding, or at least, i didn’t used to be. you know how most girls say they’ve been dreaming of their perfect wedding forever, and tell stories about trying on their mother’s gown and clomping around the house in shoes five sizes too big? i never told those stories, partially because my parents weren’t able to legally marry until 2004 (yay massachusetts!), and partially because as a child, i simply wasn’t that into weddings. even as i hit puberty and turned into an awkward teenage that was a melange of strange feelings i didn’t know how to handle, i didn’t think much about it. in fact, i wasn’t even sure that i wanted to get married.

i can’t put my finger on when, exactly, my mind changed, but some time over the past few years, things shifted. and suddenly, i saw couples in love everywhere. i saw wedding photos on every blog i read. people i knew were doing crazy things like getting engaged and having babies. we weren’t kids anymore, not even college kids. we were real adults with real responsibilities and real relationships, and people were hunkering down. Image

and just like that, i started dreaming of my wedding. or at least, thinking about it – and how i wanted twinkling lights in an open garden, and a vintage lace dress that evoked a bygone era of glamour, and rows of chiavari chairs with classic cushions tied onto the seats. i thought of how i might like to carry hydrangeas, or perhaps, calla lilies or tulips. i tasted wedding cake in my mouth and pictured walking with my husband through pottery barn and anthropology, registering for our future hand in hand. Image

have i mentioned i am S.I.N.G.L.E? so it goes without saying that all of this is but a dream. but hopefully, someday it won’t be, and there will be a man who will humor me as i examine wine decanter after wine decanter in the crowded aisles of crate and barrel, who smiles when i ask him which style of milk glass he prefers. and until then, i can look at the gorgeous pictures of blogger/photographer/model candice lake, who got married in an english garden fit for a princess.


hey, a girl can dream, right?