Signs You Are No Longer Dating, South American Ed.

The Anonymous Husband & I have a ritual weekday phone call, occurring sometime around 5 pm, which involves dinner negotiations (in that I attempt to persuade him to cook me dinner) and any social or work scheduling.  By "social or work scheduling" I mean to say that the AH, both an incredibly hard worker and a social butterfly*, informs me of the 49 potential events we could be attending that night if he isn't otherwise working until the wee hours.

*With apologies to Gloria Steinem, but "social butterfly" just doesn't sound right in reference to men like mine - "social angry bumblebee"?  "Social hornet"?

Yesterday's call somehow took a turn south - of the Equator, that is . . . 

AH:  Unfortunately I can't make it to the Kathy Griffin show with you this Thursday; turns out I have to leave Wednesday on a quick business trip. (worried pause to gauge my reaction) I'll be back by Friday morning, though.

Me: (what I immediately think):  Oh, good, a night or two alone to hammer out that tricky style post.

(what I actually say out loud):  Shoot.  You've been working an awful lot lately, haven't you?  You sure you aren't, you know, "taking a quick trip to Argentina"?

AH:  No.  (pause)  I mean, 48 hours is hardly enough time to make it to my South American mistress and back, is it?

Me:  (pause)  Whatever, Governor.  That is, like, so last week's excuse, but perhaps we should hold a press conference for it too?

***

Thank you so much for making such fab suggestions to the Official Pretty "Splurge vs. Save" list; you can find the updated version here.  Please keep the questions & recommendations coming!

Signs You Are No Longer Dating, Friends Edition

My dearest twenty-something singleton friend just phoned with details of her latest wildly romantic escapade.  I'm talking bodice-ripper, scandalous yet soulful pirate on the romance novel cover level of escapade.  After a in depth dish session, she then asked what sorts of excitement I'd gotten myself into lately.

Having recently covered my tedious thirty-something basics - my job (fine), pets (fine), and mortgage (fine) - I signed off of the call shortly thereafter, resigned and, if I'm being honest, perhaps just a little sad.  Not that my friendship is by any means competitive, but our conversation reminded me that my days of calling friends to dissect the man du jour have come to an end.  

And then, not five minutes later, inspiration struck me - immature inspiration, admittedly, but inspiration nonetheless - as I grabbed my iPhone. Pulse racing, I snapped a picture, pressed "send", and breathed a sigh of relief as I realized that I haven't left all impulsive love affairs behind me along with my 20s.  

Readers, I sent my friend a photo of my new handbag.  Yes, handbag.  Because I may have happily promised some 2.5 years ago not to have any more romances with other people but, by God, I'm clinging to the right to love & cherish fashion which I find on sale, 'til death - or American Express - do us part.  

Edited to Add:  Here's the iPhoto of my thirty-something adolescence . . . 

How to Spice Up Your Marriage in One Easy Step

Picture the scene:  you're sitting at the dinner table with your husband, enjoying a meal which you lovingly picked up from Pei Wei prepared, chit-chatting about your respective days at work.  In whatever state of dress or undress you prefer, gaze longingly into his eyes and drop the following into a perfectly innocent conversation:

"So, speaking of kids .  . ."

Take a brief pause for dramatic effect before continuing on with whatever story it was you meant to be telling, of the sort that has nothing whatsoever to do with your having your own children personally*.  Can't you just feel the marital excitement? 

*Edited to Add:  In my case, I was launching into a story about my friend's kid.  Yes, really. Please refer to my State of the Uterus address for any additional questions.

You may want to alert your neighbors before trying this.  As I recently and quite accidentally learned, you will not have time after those words slip out; if your partner is anything like the Anonymous Husband, I assure you that he will have already levitated into the next zip code.  After all of the wifely hard work you've put into ordering takeout making dinner, what a shame it would be to have to waste your evening tracking down your husband, aka Terrified Spice.

The "Couples Friends" Interview

On a slightly different note than excellent, yet vodka-inducing movies . . . one of the many splendored things I've come across in my impressive two years as a Smug Married newlywed is the heightened importance of couples friends. This isn't to say that the inclination or practice wasn't there during the dating years, just that there is a mysterious new sense of both joint effort and interest as the Anonymous Husband and I attempt to meet people together in our new town. To a certain extent, friends are friends are friends, but I've also found that there is a slightly different set of qualifications for Couples Friends than for those people unfortunate enough to spend time with me individually.

Please raise your hand if any of the following sounds familiar in your initial Couples Friends thought-processes:

- Do I like her ("Girl")? Enough that if the Boy & the AH leave for a joint bar trip, I won't fly into a secret panic over what to talk to Girl about?
- Do I like him ("Boy")? Can he do enough sports /business talk to keep AH entertained, but talk enough, um, interesting stuff to please me?
- Seriously, what do I have to do to get a margarita here?
- Oooh, look at her handbag. If Boy bought that for her, perhaps he can talk the AH into doing the same for me?
- Does the sound of Boy & Girl interacting as a couple irritate me to the point that a night doing taxes / watching LiLo movies / purchasing LiLo leggings (knee pads included!) sounds better? Minus 2 additional points if PDA levels appear high.
- OK, the margarita???
- Will the existence of babies (them) or lack thereof (us) make or break this?
- How likely is this to evolve into a board game night sort of friendship? And if I confess that I might actually be OK with that, does that immediately make me ancient?**
- MAR-GAR-ITA, MAR-GAR-ITA (now pounding fork and knife on table in time with chant)
**I am a little kickass at Trivial Pursuit & Connect Four. Not to brag or anything.

You'll be disappointed to know that I do not actually carry a checklist & clipboard to these dinners. However, a girl has to have some degree of people-watching fun . . . since I am now deprived of my favorite southern California observational pastime, cougar hunting, Texas couples are hereby on notice . . .

******************************************************************************************
Many thanks and unicorns-and-rainbows style feelings of delight go to two bloggers who've honored the Pretty recently on their fine blogs:

- News Readin Wife, who, if we ever have the good fortune to meet, I suspect would quickly qualify as both Couples Friend and Friend Friend.

- Christine, a sweet new addition to the blog world & fellow lady lawyer.

Merci!

Signs You Are No Longer Dating, Friday Night Date Edition

Pre-Marriage Internal Monologue, 6 pm

"Oooh, Anonymous Boyfriend should be here soon - he is SO adorable! I wonder what fabulous restaurant he's taking me to this time? I'd better go re-check my outfit and make sure that these silver heels make my behind look good . . . shaving. SHAVING!! OHMYGOD (or "ZOMG" for the hipsters like myself) I FORGOT TO SHAVE!* Where is the emergency toxic-chemical Nair?" ((sound of crashing and cabinet slamming as search commences))

*In case my late Grandparents are reading this from their Heavenly MacBooks, this is not meant to imply that I had any actual need for shaving before dates. Nopety nope nope. La la la la . . .

Post-Marriage Internal Monologue, 6 pm

"Oooh, Target loungey pants. Sooooo comfy. I wonder if, once I arrive home, I can make it from the car to loungey pants in 60 seconds. And, somehow, convince the Anonymous Husband to cook dinner.** Maybe a movie later, even though this is high school date night & we'll have to wade through the hormones to find our seats? So long as it's not one of those WW II boy flicks out right now? More importantly, so long as I can remain in the loungey pants for the movie?"***

**I did! Singletons, never underestimate the wonders of a spouse who cooks well & willingly. Makes me nearly as happy as my loungey pants.

***I lost, both on the movie and the pants. But see above about the cooking!

Signs You're No Longer Dating - Multiple Choice Exam, Part I

Please circle the answer that does not belong in each set; bonus points awarded for gratuitous explanation of selected answer.

1) The first sign that you no longer in that impressing one another, unicorns-and-rainbows dating phase is. . .

a) You wear sweats and/or worn, smelly college shirts in front of one another without apology;

b) You're able to mention your future and/or current children in front of one another without hearing the distant hoofbeats of the Four Horsemen of the Things Guys Don't Want To Hear Apocalypse;

c) You not only discuss in great detail your own, your pets', and/or your kids' bodily functions with one another, you also assign cutesy names to said functions such as "tinkle" or "toot";

d) Toot? Tinkle? Sweatpants? You'd never admit such things to your closest friends, let alone your (sigh) Mr. Wonderful / Mrs. Wonderful.

2) When your significant other calls and asks, "Hey, what did you make for dinner?", your first reaction is:

a) "Aaaaa! I'd better run to the store right now. What was that emergency casserole Mom used to make? I wonder if Mr. Wonderful / Mrs. Wonderful likes this one."

b) "Bwahahahaha!"

c) "Oh, crap, I forg . . . I mean, I actually think it's incumbent upon you to bring dinner home. Remember that time 3 years ago when you forgot my birthday? Right, I didn't think so."

d) "How does ordering a pizza sound?"

Signs You're Not in That Romantic Dating Phase Anymore and Stuff

Me: "Hi honey, you're home!"
Anonymous Husband: "Hi! I'll be right back - let me run to the bathroom." (shuffles off)

AH: (shuffles back with gleeful smirk on face) "SO, I take it someone has been in the bathroom recently?"
Me: "I have no idea what you're talking about. We've been over this. As a lady, I don't do that sort of thing."

AH: "Riiiiight. So the dog was tooting in the bathroom again, eh?"
Me: "Exactly. You really need to do something about that. Anyways, what's for dinner?"

(And they all lived happily ever after. The end.)