A Final Date in The City

As our final week in The City comes to a close, Boyfriend and I took to The Park for our final date before heading home to The Southernland.

The afternoon began with a quick lunch at Europa, where I first took Boyfriend for lunch when he visited me in The City over two years ago. He made inappropriate comments, I rolled my eyes, children screamed from across the restaurant. It was magical.

Next Boyfriend surprised me by stopping into a Build a Bear Workshop and constructing for me a unique stuffed dog, which we named Valentino after the restaurant where we had our first date. Boyfriend carefully chose the perfect body and allowed me to stuff it. However, it was Boyfriend who made a special wish and kissed the tiny red heart placed inside every Build a Bear creation. I thought he did a much better job than the nine year old girl who went before us. 

We then walked the twenty blocks to a bicycle rental facility, where we were ignored by the employees for five minutes. While waiting patiently for Boyfriend to step up, I gracefully pushed him into the front desk, ensuring nobody could ignore us any longer. After a brief tutorial on how to ride a bike (it's been a while!) Boyfriend and I were off to The Park. He with his bicycle-basket full of feminine goodies and I with my badass and masculine black bike. Boyfriend refused the couples two-seated bicycle that I pleaded for so he needed some sort of punishment.

We made our way from the bottom of the park to the 100's...in the rain...biking the whole way. I'm sure it seems as if it could have been quite the romantic trip, and it was to a certain extent. But Boyfriend failed to remember my constant habit of complaining when forced to perform manual labor. Why didn't anyone tell me The Park has so many mountains?!  After showing up all the Lance Armstrongs in their spandex and aerodynamic helmets, Boyfriend and I stopped for icecream (my idea-his money) and enjoyed it under a few trees.

After returning our bicycles, Boyfriend decided to take me out for quite the dinner at Outback Steakhouse, of course. Such a romantic.

So our final date in The City wasn't at all what we expected. We were rained on, I was more out of shape then I realized, and dinner was nothing more than a commercialized meal for two with an overdecorated waiter. Regardless, it was fabulous and it spoke to exactly how our time in The City has been: nothing at all what we planned.

Boyfriend Romances Boots (a How-Not-To)

Last weekend was the infamous LIM College Fashion Show, which brought Boyfriend and I both our own sorts of stress. Luckily, it went off without a hitch, and in the aftermath of such chaos we've been working hard to catch up on sleep rekindle the rather muffled flame in our oh-so-ridiculous love-life. To accomplish this task, Boyfriend of course took me to only the most romantic of places in The City: The 2012 New York International Auto Show. This man truly is the most thoughtful of them all.

Regardless of the lack of romance, I saddled up my walking shoes and we made our way to the Javits Center only a few days after the most epic moment in my college career. I, refusing to brave the world of testosterone and fake body parts alone, brought along Mama and Canada.*

The first stop? A booth where guests could sign up to have their photo taken with a half-naked model car spokesperson and luxury vehicle of their choosing. Of course Boyfriend was all aflutter with excitement. Then we made our way through the very long and exhausting maze of every car brand imaginable. Boyfriend had to stop at each exhibit and inspect each car. This was usually accompanied by a lengthy yet informative explanation of the car's general functionality, company profile and overall "bad-assness" of  the paint job. Far too many photographs were taken of Boyfriend in the front seat of these cars. The rest of the day continued on in a similar fashion.

Four hours, three hot dogs, dreams of the exit sign and some delicious Mini Melts (formerly known as DipnDots) later and we were finally finished with our romantic excursion. After it all, Boyfriend and I left the auto show with nothing more than a few aching feet and the realization that no matter how hard my little southern heart wishes we can't afford a Bugatti. Was it romantic? Absolutely not. Will I ever go back? Probably. The hotdogs were delicious! The point? Boyfriend tried so very hard to turn his own hobby into mine without anyone noticing it wasn't a relaxing and thoughtful date. For that, the man deserves some credit. Nice try.

Boyfriend, please take note that I'll need something much more than a few flashing car lights and processed pork-bits to bring on the passion in the future. 

Here are some photos from our fabulous day:

My proof it actually happened.

Boyfriend assures me it is the car he was photographing.

One of the many in-car photos.

*Names have been changed.

Boyfriend Dates a Fashion Student

The last few weeks have been more frustrating and challenging than I ever thought possible for a twenty-something alcoholic day-drinking lover of life. You see I sometimes get a neat idea to become an overachiever, which usually ends in a giant mess of procrastination, perfectionism and french words only my mouth from the south allows me to say. Case in point: I am currently in the process of planning a major fashion show for my college. Boyfriend is currently in the process of avoiding my horrifying stress-induced meltdowns that happen periodically throughout the week. The fashion show is in two weeks and Boyfriend hasn't made eye contact in four. I think it's about time I give him some slack and recognize that it is not easy to date a fashion student. Here are some reasons why:

1.)We like to work...a LOT. The average college student attends four years of university, possibly while working at the local coffee shop to fund cell phone bills. But the average college student does not work a real-life job in their future career until after graduation. Somehow the fashion industry missed this memo, and instead we work as slaves full-time employees interns. The average fashion student attends four years of university, in which time he/she works at least three internships, volunteers for at least ten events, joins multiple clubs/organizations, and holds down a part-time job to fund shopping addictions...all while looking much more fabulous than those students who attend class in sweatpants. This alone leaves very little time for someone like Boyfriend, but add to it the fact that we have a child to care for and Boyfriend can feel downright neglected.

2.)We appreciate the finer things in life. By appreciate I, as a self-respecting fashion student, am in no way implying that I must carry a Louis Vuitton to coordinate with my Louboutins. If I had those items I wouldn't need to go to a school that teaches me about them and Boyfriend wouldn't have to suffer the tragic life of dating a fashion student. Regardless, this can be a challenging feat for men who are not...fashionably inclined. They don't understand why we enjoy browsing in every boutique we will never shop in. Because obviously looking at what some of the most influential names in our culture are creating for the world of fashion is way more boring than watching someone play XBOX for hours on end.


3.) We communicate differently. If you are not a fashion student, please ask one what they thought of [insert designer name here] latest collection and let me know if you understand a word that is said. If you are a fashion student: omg you get how ridic this whole thing is. I DIE. Btw, that skirt is bananas.

4.) We don't usually dress appropriately. Well, this is debatable. We, as worshipers of the Book of Wintor, understand that to be fashionable does not always mean to be comfortable. Boyfriend has, on more than one occasion, expressed frustration for my need to wear "impractical shoes" while walking around The City. I however, live by the same rule as many other fashion students: if it does not compliment my outfit it is no longer appropriate or practical. Okay so maybe, just maybe Boyfriend's logic sometimes prevails and I am forced into submission by way of complaints about sore feet for the duration of our date. I really don't know why this is even on the list.

5.) Some might call us crazy. It is a valid point. After all, you do have to be nuts to choose an industry where you are over-worked, underpaid and selling/promoting/merchandising material items you worship yet won't be able to afford until your body isn't cute enough to wear it. But it is the most glamorous, exciting and challenging industry one could choose to chase after a dream in. If you're on the outside with Boyfriend you won't understand, but if you're on the inside as a learner of this glorious industry you know what I am talking about. We may be completely insane and our industry might seem quite vain, but the world's economy would literally fall apart if the fashion industry did not exist. We're important, and we know it.

Boyfriend has recently taken solace in the fact that the fashion show is almost over with. As the director, I am taking pleasure in the fact that Boyfriend has been extra accommodating lately, probably to avoid another epic meltdown stressing me further. He's learned over the years that pushing the buttons of a fashion student on the edge is a very, very bad mistake. Luckily, since his wardrobe has improved tremendously, Boyfriend finds these points to be tiny in comparison to the benefits of dating a fashion student.




P.s. if you haven't already, please go read last week's post and leave us your comment! Boyfriend and I will be visiting one of your favorite places in The City this week! 

Boots and Boyfriend Make Memories

After quite the blog hiatus I am officially back in business and prepared to once more humiliate Boyfriend share the story of young love.

Over the last few weeks Boyfriend and I have begun our final descent in this trip back to The Southernland, and it's left me quite depressed. The City has been our home for three years. It's where we made our worst mistakes, best decisions, created our family, and began what was supposed to be our life as Manhattanites. Will I miss it? Absolutely, with every ounce of my little southern soul. Boyfriend? He hasn't stopped grinning since we made the decision to move back...in November.

But regardless of Boyfriend's incessant optimism, I do find that there are many things we will miss about our current stomping grounds. Here's a list of the places I will lay awake at night crying about we wish we could take with us:

1.) Osso Buco. The spot of our first date in The City. It's Italian, has cute little candles on each table, and is everything two broke 20-somethings ever wanted in a favorite neighborhood restaurant. Boyfriend and I would often stop by here and relive the magic and naivety that came with our first few months in The City when we thought cloth napkins meant dining fancy.

2.) Levain Bakery. Since I could eat I have had a very unhealthy and sick obsession with any and all cookies. It's developed into a much more sophisticated habit overtime, of course, as I no longer consume a pack of Chips Ahoy a day, but instead prefer the classiness of a fresh-baked Nestle instead. For my birthday last year, Boyfriend knowingly took me on a walking tour of the best chocolate chip cookies in The City. I have never felt more in love with a single human, including my fleeting moments of uncontrollable teenage lust over Justin Timberlake in the 90's. In short, our favorite on the list was Levain Bakery. These cookies are not even worthy of words and if you have not already, you absolutely must try one immediately. Now. Go.

3.) The Highline. Looking for a different scene than our old Harlem neighborhood, Boyfriend and I made the trek out to the Highline last summer and spotted Hayden Panettiere, the highlight of Boyfriend's young life. He choked and failed to woo her, but we continued on and found the park built on an old train track to be a fabulous place to people watch and gossip over street meat. It's a true City experience, and nothing like it exists in The Southernland.

4.) The Museum of Sex. Nothing says romance quite like a sex museum. At least that's what I was hoping for when I took Boyfriend here for our first Valentine's date in The City. We spent over an hour giggling and gawking at the incredibly graphic exhibits, but it was an inappropriate experience that bonded us and opened our lines for communication. Really, I just wanted to see Boyfriend squirm as he checked out the torture devices. I recommend this place for a fantastically awkward first date or any couple who has no sense of humor...the sex museum is completely serious. There is absolutely no laughing allowed.

5.) Our Spot. I can't highlight this and give you readers the link because there is no website. There is not a Yelp review or Groupon to help get you in here. Our Spot is a place Boyfriend found for us the first week he moved to The City. He took me there on a surprise picnic and we've treasured it since. It's a small patch of rock in Central Park hidden under trees by a lake. You have to climb to get to it and it's not a place people frequent often. We sat by the water on the driest part of the rock and watched birds bathe right next to us (not the disgusting pigeons...actual, romantic-scene-setting birds). Boyfriend kissed me while I ate my tuna sandwich and it was one of the calmest moments we've found since inhabiting this concrete jungle.

These places have some of our best memories. Boyfriend thinks we'll be fine without them, that our memories alone will serve us well. I simply cannot fathom going the rest of my life without tasting that delicious Levain cookie or searching for celebs at The Highline. However, we're still moving on to The Southernland soon and will eventually replace these landmarks with new ones. But for the time being, we're trying to enjoy our current home to the fullest. I now challenge you, the reader, to help us find one more special place to add to our collection. Where would you go if you could only go one more place in The City? We'll try it out and let you know if it's as life changing as the Museum of Sex, and you let us know if you try any of our favorite places. 

Introducing, William!

Boyfriend was on his best behavior this week, bringing me all sorts of "gifts" and thanking me for the dinners I cooked. He even *gasp* did the entire sink of dishes without my asking. Apparently, someone's been reading my blog. Because of Boyfriend's complete lack of uselessness this week, my usual compilation of complaints seems almost cruel and unusual. Thus, I've decided to take this opportunity to introduce you to someone very special in our lives, our proudest accomplishment, William. Something you may not have known? Boyfriend and I are the overly-eager adoptive parents to one very lucky young man. Here's his story...

William, born on December 19th, 2006, came into my life only days before Christmas of 2007 in the Panera Bread parking lot. It was meant to be from the moment he dramatically leaped into my arms in front of a crowded patio. Nearly escaping death by shelter, William instantly fell in love with my warm bed and forced affection. For the next three years we rode side-by-side in my pickup truck Southernland-style while listening to nonsense punk music. William received a weekly allowance and was groomed twice a month at the local Petsmart. He was my baby and probably the most over-sized accessory dog ever actually pulled off.

William wearing a bib, naturally. 

Boyfriend joined our duo three years later and has been making life difficult for us ever since. He's taught William nonsense "animalistic activties" such as aggression, chasing squirrels (see last week's post), and one habit for which I am most resentful. Together, William and Boyfriend constantly hatch elaborate schemes to harass and agitate the enemy - me. 

William sent this as a Valentine to someone special. 

Never to be at the end of a losing fight, I of course stake revenge in my own way. Take for instance the time William could not stop scratching his face, leaving it raw and sore. He'd spend his time purposefully rubbing his bloody nose on my pants and comforter. Boyfriend and I bought a plastic cone to put on him, much to my delight his dismay. Then, to further the humiliation, I wrapped William's feet in men's socks and posed him for a photo. His expression says it all. I win. 

Sometimes I worry he hates me. 

And when my plans to embarrass my little over-emotional ball of fur fail? I dress him in ridiculous outfits and parade him for the neighbors to gawk at. My favorite is the elf costume that comes out around Christmas when William can't keep his nose away from my candy canes. 

Boyfriend is most fond of William's sweater set. 

Do I realize we sound like a crazy couple who takes their pet far too seriously? Yes, of course. We take everything far too seriously. The worst fight we have begins in the kitchen sink. But William is our baby; he has his own little personality that fits right into our little family. Boyfriend often refers to us as William's Mommy and Daddy, which I don't dispute. I mean, in a three year relationship I had to find something else to talk about besides Boyfriend's theory of a zombie apocalypse. The bonus? I don't actually have to make one of those awful snotty-nosed crying things, Boyfriend is perfectly satisfied with the son he's got.  

Boyfriend Makes a Friend

Since moving to New York City from the Southerland, Boyfriend has struggled with finding his own group of friends. First, he tried finding friends in the squirrels outside our apartment. Boyfriend would spend hours of his time gallivanting with these squirrels, offering them the special pistachio nuts he bought at the grocery store with them in mind. When they refused his courtship, Boyfriend began pushing them off the fences they perched atop. Next, he attached himself to my own clan of females, often cracking inappropriate jokes while we sipped wine and attempted to keep it classy. This also ended in failure. In an effort to forge new "relationships," Boyfriend has taken a liking to his Xbox. Typical, no? A man likes to play Xbox games. The not-so-typical? This man thinks his online Xbox world is perhaps a little more real-life than is probably normal. I recently had an argument with Boyfriend about his new Xbox "friends." My point? They're not real. His? Well, here is what he told me while defending his new favorite people:

It's about building relationships. When I responded with, "I'm sorry...relationships?" He countered with a "Yes. You're doing something together that you enjoy." Ah yes, much like when I go to a yoga class and bond with people while enjoying the downward dog. Except I know who they are because I can see them.

Half of them are older than me. This was a response to when I pointed out that he's probably playing with little boys from around the world. He also concluded that a player named "Redneck Gunner" could not possibly be from anywhere but the United States.


Zombieman is 40, his name's Chris. And again, I ask these are your friends? I rest my case.

If you find that your man is now taking a new liking to his Xbox like never before, please be aware. It is not safe, nor is it normal. Only a man would think it is routine to "forge relationships" at 3:00 am...with strangers...over shooting people in fake combat. My remedy? I steal his headset and remind the boys that he has a girlfriend, and a very obnoxious one at that. Nobody will be hunting and kidnapping Boyfriend anytime soon.  If that doesn't work? Buy him pistachio nuts and send him to Central Park.

Boots has a Valentine

Ah yes, the Valentines Post. I know you were expecting it, anticipating it even. Valentines is the one day a year we couples have an excuse to rub our love and romanticism in the faces of those living a life in Single Town. If you are one of the many single people who loath this holiday as much as I did Pre-Boyfriend, do not fret. You have your day every other day of the year when you don't have to utter the phrase, "No, honey, I do NOT want to spend my only day off watching you play Modern Warfare with your thirteen year old 'friends' online in Japan." But alas the holiday came and I embraced it. Here are all the things that went wrong, and one thing that went oh so right on my Valentines...

1.) I looked like a jerk. I planned our Valentines for the 15th because of schedule conflicts on the 14th. However, I still came home on February 14th with a completely cheesy, but totally Valentines-acceptable gift of naming a star after my lover. Even though we had previously agreed that I would plan Valentines while Boyfriend planned our anniversary less than a month ago, I fully expected to be surprised by an elaborate marriage proposal a gift I "wasn't expecting." Instead, I got a "thanks, babe" and "I was going to send you an e-card." ...I wish I was joking. This meant Boyfriend spent the rest of the evening listening to me moan and whine about how much more romantic I am than he. Of course, the following day, our own Valentines Day,  Boyfriend appeared with a box of pre-ordered chocolate covered strawberries and a card declaring his love for me. Please allow me to reiterate, the gift was pre-ordered. Meaning, I had punished Boyfriend for no reason...and I am an asshole. There, I said it, now are you happy, Boyfriend?

Fine, I'll admit it. He is sort of sweet.

2.) I made the worst date choice. I planned an afternoon of painting pottery, to be followed by a strict reservation at a fabulous Italian restaurant. For any normal couple, this would be an easy and relaxing way to spend some time together. We are not a normal couple. Apparently, when you are in a relationship with Picasso you simply cannot "rush a masterpiece." We had only a couple of hours to paint our pottery before leaving for dinner. I finished mine, a much larger piece might I add, in one and a half hours. This is a completely reasonable amount of time. However, I then spent the next hour and a half watching Boyfriend paint slower than a snail crossing the intersection. My little Monet was so involved that holding any conversation would obviously "ruin his concentration." Thus I sat in silence while humming to the playlist over the speakers and praying Boyfriend's piece would suffer from random spontaneous combustion.

Boyfriend has such delicate fingers. 

The Met won't stop begging me for it.

3.) I took a wrestler to a tea party. Well, not really, but I did take Boyfriend to an extremely fancy restaurant, which is so not his cup of tea no pun intended. Simply put, Boyfriend is not exactly a fancy man. He does not believe in using napkins, but prefers the mobility and convenience of his pants legs. His idea of drinks with dinner is a very large soda with a twisty straw and chicken wings. Regardless, I dressed this man in a suit and brought him to a very nice dinner. He spent the evening making inappropriate jokes, drinking with his pinky in the air, and patting the sides of his mouth sarcastically with his napkin. I loved every minute of it.

My Valentines Day was not at all picture perfect. (We didn't even celebrate on the right day.) But my Valentines Day was spent with the most ridiculous, frustrating, time-consuming and often embarrasing man in my life. He is perfect for me, and I would not have changed a thing about February 15th. (Insert eye roll here.) I don't care. If you've been there, you get it. Everything went wrong, but everything was so right when I got to hold Boyfriend's hand and call him my Valentine. Happy Single Awareness Day, everyone. I hope yours was as ironically awesome as mine. 

When Boyfriend Becomes a Celebrity

Boyfriend thinks he is a celebrity. No, this is not an exaggeration. Since writing my first blog post about him on the world wide web, this man thinks he is more famous than peach cobbler in Georgia. His newly discovered fame has also led to some new difficulties in our relationship. For instance, Boyfriend has begun doing things on purpose out of spite for my blog. I have the photo evidence to prove it.

The following are photos of Boyfriend's socks in various ridiculous poses around our apartment.

In MY shoes...at 6:30 a.m.

On our bed...which is right next to the hamper.

On top of the trashcan in our bathroom when I get home.

Let me explain. You see, when I wrote last week's blog post about the four fights that have encompassed our relationship, I did not intend to imply that all of these fights are a consistent daily occurrence. They are simply fights that seem to creep into our relationship more times than not over the last three years. Boyfriend felt that the sock fight had not happened quite enough to make a space in my blog post. Therefore, he has taken it upon himself to place his socks in the most obnoxious ways around our apartment. This man has lost his mind. 

To punish Boyfriend for his unnecessary sock antics, I have decided to share a little "True Hollywood Story" for my new bloggy-celebrity. I give you Boyfriend in his daily attire:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Boyfriend takes the dog out at night in a snow suit...that's belted...which zips up...much like a onsie. Some might find this to be completely practical. After all, it is winter, right? Wrong. Boyfriend has been wearing this snow suit around Astoria since it was still 50 degrees outside. Regardless of the temperature, Boyfriend finds it necessary to don his suit and prance around the block as if he's preparing to go cross-country skiing in the world's tackiest outfit. 

The madness has to stop. 

Boyfriend, if you are reading this, please make it a point to remove your socks from my side of the room or I'm bringing out the leprechaun photos. 

Three Arguments and One War

For my first official post in The Adventures, I will discuss the most prevalent problem in any young adult relationship: fighting. Boyfriend and I are prone to such instances of debauchery which usually end in me throwing something small at his head. I use these moments to put my hilarious sarcasm on display in all of its under-appreciated glory. Fights are the one time I am allowed to point out the fact that we’re always late because Boyfriend’s primping takes longer than Cher’s, or his obnoxious tendency to talk to animals in public as if they’re his friends is embarrassing. No...I am not joking.

But I digress.

The real point of this post? Three ridiculous arguments in my relationship, and one argument that I, as a self-respecting smart ass, will never back down from…

1.)    Socks belong in the hamper.  I am only going to repeat myself one more time. Socks belong in the hamper. They do not belong on the dining room table, nor do they belong next to my pillow. Socks do not belong in the dog’s bed or on the chair we offer guests when they would like to sit down. Socks have never been meant to remain in the shoes they just came out of or to sit for a week on the cushion where their owner resides. No, socks are meant to be worn and then disposed of in the hamper where apparently little fairies take them to the laundry mat. This is the only proper way to handle one’s socks. 

The opposing view: Socks belong wherever they land, even if they happen to land two inches from the hamper…on the floor…every single time.

2.)    Dinner should be a meal. I swear if Boyfriend were president he would create a holiday specifically to celebrate the Subway Sandwich. Everyone around the globe would enjoy a Subway Sandwich every day, free of charge, and he would call it Boyfriend's Subway Sandwich Day. They’re cheap, within walking distance of our NYC apartment, and according to Boyfriend, a perfectly acceptable meal for dinner every evening. In the eyes of Boyfriend, Jared is King. 

The opposing view:  I prefer real food.

3.) Toilet paper – over or under? This has, by far, been the biggest war my bathroom has seen since the flour fight of 2010 (pictures at a later date). Boyfriend thinks the toilet paper roll should roll under. 

The opposing view: Obviously, it should roll over. This is how the Waldorf Astoria does it, thus this is how it should be done. You would not see me walking around on my hands claiming it’s appropriate, now would you? Things are meant to go right side up for a reason.

And finally, we’ve come to the one argument I refuse to let die. This has been the thorn in my relationship’s side since day one, even once sending us to a couple’s counseling session. It is the start to all our serious arguments, and it begins in the kitchen.

It is his turn to do the dishes. It is always his turn to do the dishes, because it is always my turn to cook the dinners. Don't get me wrong, occasionally Boyfriend will get a little frisky. I’ll come home and the dishes will be done, leaving me to give him nothing but a treat and kind pat on the tush. However, usually I become far too frustrated with the lack of forks in my utensil drawer before this happens, and I clean every dish by myself while listening to the sweet melodies of T-Pain. This is followed by a round of gloating as Boyfriend must then make it up to me in some way (this usually includes candy compensation). If only Boyfriend would just do the dishes there would be no need for all the arguing, and The Dish War would be over. However, I have too much pride and a fabulous manicure, thus I will never surrender.