Photo by: Tim McCoy

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t ever fallen for a handsome face.  It normally starts with a girls night out, a few drinks, and the next thing you know you spot him at the bar.  Common sense tells you to look away but you’ve been burned recently and that develish belle on your shoulder is whispering, “you deserve to have a little fun!”  So when he smiles that charming grin at you… it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea to give him a nod to come over.

Maybe you have more drinks, maybe you end up dancing, maybe his friends meet your friends, or maybe it’s closing time before you’re ready to say farewell.  What’s a Belle to do?  (Note: we all know EXACTLY what we should do at this point, but we’re also thinking without the influence of dirty martinis, red patent “Stewies“ and diamante lashes.)  The rest of the night can turn out a number of different ways, depending on how deviant that devilish belle on your shoulder is, but after all is “said” and “done”, we’re in the same predicament when the sun comes up….

Is now the time to panick?  No.  Is now the time to ask yourself how the HELL this happened?  No.  Belles, now is the time to recover with class and haul ass.  Which is precisely why I will refer to the brilliant experts responsible for the famed, “Worst Case Scenario Handbook“, for the best way to handle the unfortunate situation you’ve gotten yourself into.  What situation would I be referring to???

HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO SOMEONE WHOSE NAME YOU DON’T REMEMBER…

Here’s what to do…

“If you wake up at their place:

1. Do not panic.   Evidence of your partner’s name exists somewhere nearby.  Your task will be to find it before he awakens, or before he starts any sort of meaningful conversation.

2. Get up and go to the bathroom.  The bathroom is a normal place to visit first thing in the morning, and it is also a place where you might discover his name.

3. Look through the medicine cabinet for prescription medicines with his name on the label.

4. Sort through magazines, looking for subscription labels with his name and address.

5. Go through wastebasket to find discarded junk mail addressed to him.

6. Return to the bedroom.  If he is awake, ask him to make coffee for you.  Use the time alone to search the bedroom for evidence.  Look for: wallet, checkbook, ID, photo album, business cards (a stack of cards, not just one), or luggage labels.  If he is sleeping, look for these and other items throughout the house.

BE AWARE: Try to find at least two items with the same name to be certain that you have identified him, unless the name on one item rings a bell.”

OR, HEAVEN FORBID

Here’s what to do if…

You’ve brought the beautiful stranger to your place:

“1. Use terms of endearment when addressing him.  Do not guess his name.  Acceptable terms of endearment are:

*Honey/Sweetie/Cutie

*Darling/Baby/Sugar

*Beautiful/Handsome/Gorgeous

2. Unless you are certain you have ample time, do not go through his belongings.  If your partner is showering, you can count on having at least a few minutes of privacy to search through his belongings.  Otherwise, do not risk it – it would be far more embarrassing to be caught searching through his possessions than to admit you cannot remember his name.  (He may be in the same predicament.)

3. Ask leading questions while making small talk.  Fishing for information is risky and can backfire by calling attention to what you are trying to do.  However, if you feel you can pull it off, try to trick him into revealing his name:

* While getting dressed, pull out your own ID and ask him if he thinks that your hair is better now or in the picture.  Laugh about how silly you used to look.  Ask him if he likes the picture on his license.  (He may think you are checking his age.)

* Ask him if he ever had a nickname.  He might say, “No, just (Name).”

4. As he is leaving, give him your business card and ask for his.  If he does not have a business card, ask him to write his vital information on yours.”  

Belles, now the indiscretion is over.   You can breath a sigh of relief because you have either discovered their name or you have at least gotten them out your front door.  Either way, the horror is done for now.  Your next steps are crucial for your recovery from this bad hiccup.  Rather than beating yourself up about what happened, go to the kitchen and fix yourself a bowl of fresh berries with whip creme and a large glass of water (sparkling if you’re feeling hungover.)  Then get your cell phone off the charger and text your girlfriends immediately so they can have a laugh with you about how alcohol leads to great workouts on the dancefloor and bad decisions off. 

Afterall, what’s done is done.  You can’t hit rewind so you might as well learn from the situation and move on.  If you can laugh at yourself in the process, you’re ahead of the game….

So Valentine’s Day didn’t exactly go as planned.  Was I let down, yeah… it sucked cupid’s big fat arrow.  Permanently scarred?  …Puullease.  I admit in the beginning I was a little peeved that I got so wrapped up in a false (and admittedly self-created) image of another Mr. Knockoff but a couple nights (i.e. filled with Cabernet de jour) with the girls and I had to struggle to find a way to justify my interest in him to begin with.  It’s a common mistake, really, I suppose we always present the best side of ourselves to others.  In this case, he left out a few important details, some predictable… some surprising.  I’m not saying he’s exactly Dr. Evil but I’ll pass on giving him another chance down the road… which I’m sure he’ll want. 

Either way, miraculously I ended up having a fantastic Valentine’s Day.  And in true Independent Belle fashion, we’ll choose to proudly learn our lessons from those deemed unworthy and focus our attention on those who deserve it.  Nuff said…

My Valentine’s Day started Saturday night at my friend, Jim’s, house.  Not only did he fix me fabulous cosmopolitans all night and shower me with compliments but he also introduced me to a ton of new people, which is always tops in my book.  Before the end of the evening, my friends Jim, Eric, and Kent decided they would take me to brunch for Valentine’s Day.  I think we can all agree that three handsome gentleman trump one any day.

Honestly though, I had a great Valentine’s weekend and my three handsome friends reminded me of something very important… I deserve nothing short of happiness.  I know, I know… we say it all the time and I’m the first one who preaches not to compromise but even an Independent Belle like myself has been known to let the line get a little grey.  

It starts so innocently… he falls through on a small commitment but has a good excuse about why… and you accept it.   You tell yourself to shake it off and remain positive.  Next thing you know… the terms of endearment are harder to pick out of the conversations, and you start getting a little insecure and asking yourself, “Is it just me or did he used to be sweeter to me, more of a gentleman?”  Finally, you’re doing your best to focus on the positives and not dwell on the negatives.  …And Belles, this is the point where you know you have a definite Mr. Knockoff.  Cut your losses and go call someone who is guaranteed to cheer you up, the sooner the better.

Which is exactly what I did.  I surrounded myself with people who knew me as well as I knew myself and wouldn’t let me get down and out over some wishy-washy guy.  I surrounded myself with friends who made me laugh.  I laughed so hard that tears filled the corners of my eyes and my cheeks turned pomegranite red.   And before I even got a chance to change his ringtone… that pang of disappointment had faded to pure indifference.   (I did, of course, change his ringtone… he’s now Cowboy Cassanova by Carrie Underwood.)

This all took about a week, which lets face it… is more time than Mr. Knockoff deserved but it is what it is.  My wounds have healed and that dreamy image has been replaced with the clear reality that I may not ever understand what happened or why.  What I do know is that he did me a favor in the end, and for that, I can only say thank you…

I can recall with exceptional accuracy the way I felt when I had my first crush.  Like a addict in an episode of Intervention, I’ve been chasing that high ever since.  It’s intoxicating, you know?  I could sum it up by calling it “butterflies” but its so much more. Its anticipation, excitement, sparks, and waking every morning with a big smile on your face wondering if you’ll see each other… all rolled up into one.  It’s like Valentine’s Day every day, except without the hopes of perfection.  There are no expectations, it just simply is.

Having said that, I’m no longer 11 years old; I’ve got all kinds of expectations when it comes to men, and it is, in fact, about to be February 14th.  Last year I managed to coast through the holiday without so much of a daydream about cupid.  It was refreshing.  My heart felt perfectly safe cuddled on the couch with Henry.  This year, however, yours truly has a date.

And not just any date, but a date with a man who makes me feel much like I did when I was only 11 years old.  Only now I’m cornering 30 and I no longer have to be supervised by adults.  What does this mean?  …. anything is possible.  And this Belles, is a control freak’s worst nightmare….

After plans were set with my handsome date, aka The Artist, I hung up the phone and shared a quick celebratory dance with Henry. Halfway through Michael Buble serenading us, it occurred to me that a Belle has a lot to do before the big day.  (Note: This is my typical reaction in any situation where I know I’ll have little control over the outcome.)  My virtual checklist started populating itself as I jotted down a quick “To Do List”.  Only, it wasn’t quick.  When I finished regurgitating my thoughts and ideas I looked at a piece of paper that was completely covered in handwriting, and it wasn’t a post-it.

Rather than get overwhelmed with the monstrosity of tasks I had created, I decided it would be better to get to work.  This, Belles, was January 18th.  What followed was three days of scheduling appointments to be colored, waxed, sucked, bleached, painted, primed, plucked, sprayed, trimmed, and hemmed over the week preceding aforementioned date. Oh, and I hadn’t even started thinking about my home.  I mean, you never know what could happen.  One minute we’ll be sipping wine over dinner and great conversation and the next we could be headed for the Stearns & Foster.  My head started spinning….

The possibility of this happening resulted in another list of things that would need to be done beforehand.  I felt a sense of overwhelm creeping up on me but then I paused and thought, “Am I the only one who does this?!”  My speedy transformation from a successful confident and happy Independent Belle to an overwhelmed, anxiety ridden freak was definitely disturbing.  Is everyone putting this much time into getting ready for a date with someone they might not even have a connection with?  At what point does it go from “putting your best foot forward” to wearing someone else’s heels altogether?  And, more importantly… what if there is a connection and it does develop into something more… are you then obligated to maintain this level of perfection that you’ve established on date one? Who could possibly do that?!

I’ll admit, The Artist and I have a history, so this wouldn’t exactly be a first impression. And while I’m not the same Belle I was when we met, I wouldn’t want to be.  I spent years of my childhood in the South trying to be the best version of who everyone else thought I was rather than being myself.  But despite that, the thing I remember most about The Artist is that he was one of the few people I felt I could be myself around.  I trusted him.  He felt safe.  So why was I panicking all of a sudden?

The answer was simple, taking chances is risky.  In addition to that, opening yourself up to be vulnerable around someone you cared for in the past can be dangerous territory. Regardless of how confident and secure you are with yourself, your opinion isn’t the only one that gets a voice when it comes to matters of the heart.  Eventually, you find yourself standing in front of someone you have feelings for, hoping that they will like you back. (Come to think of it, this was exactly the kind of situation I had been avoiding like the plague.)

What I do know for sure is if my date does go well, (and I’m sure it will) I want The Artist to know ME and not some filtered version of the truth.  I have a lot to offer the right person and authenticity is a big part of that.  If I’m being honest, that euphoric feeling of a first crush has a lot more to do with natural chemistry than it does with the perfect manicure and freshly retouched highlights.

So Belles, I won’t be sleeping at the salon for the next week and it’s very possible that I will forget to dust something in my home… but at least I won’t be pretending.  And with just a week left before the big V-Day date, I feel surprisingly at peace with that.