For a moment I thought, “I miss having a spouse-like device to make me coffee on lazy Sundays.”
But then I remembered my coffeemaker can be programmed to start automatically, so I’m going to marry it.
Registry information to come. 💕☕️💍
Text from a friend who’s getting married: “I’m going to try going to the gym and eating better for 100 days. #shreddingforthewedding #yep #imthatgirlnow”
Me: “Nice! OMG… If I also start working out so I don’t die of exhaustion when I finally get laid, can we make #toningfortheboning happen?”
An acquaintance shared this on Facebook:
I only bothered reading the first 20 or so comments, so maybe someone said it beyond that, but I didn’t see anyone suggest maybe, um…NOT lying to your spouse about your spending habits?
One of the comments LEGIT advised using Amazon’s lockers so the husbands wouldn’t see.
*sigh* You go enjoy your very healthy marriage. I’m single, so what the shit do *I* know?
Also, “HA HA HA, we’re women and we love to shop and we do so irresponsibly and then lie about it, HA HA HA FUNNY HA HA.”
(I know, I know — it’s a joke and I’m a buzzkill.)
Around 6 years ago I introduced my Male BFF to one of my Female BFFs via the final flickering embers of MySpace. I thought they’d get along well and HAD to meet, even if only to screw each other senseless and call it a day. When your prudish friend tells you, “OMG, you two need to fuck,” I think you HAVE to. That’s a thing, right?
And fuck they did! But as I’d hoped, they also liked each other.
So last night I had the privilege of being among the friends and family invited to be there when he proposed to her on the beach, under a starry sky and accompanied by the sound of the waves rolling in nearby.
She accepted. I did good, you guys.
And because all roads lead to Friends — “I just thought you guys were doing it, I didn’t know you were in love!” ❤️
Now, moving on to what’s really important: Which of the groomsmen am I going to bang in the coat room at their reception? Instead of a finder’s FEE for my matchmaking, I should get a finder’s fuck, no?
Great news, you guys — I’m getting married!
His name is Nova, which translated loosely from the Spanish means: “You ain’t gon’ be able to go NOwhere when we’re done.”
We’re registered at Bed Bath & Beyond, but we really only need extra bedsheets and towels, so y’all best hustle to make sure no one snags the good stuff and leaves you stuck with, like, one lone pillow sham.
Oh, and if you could also send the traditional celebration pizza now, that’d be super. I’m STARVING, but I can’t move, and Nova’s not so great in the kitchen. But no matter — he’s my best friend and my soulmate, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him. ❤️
OK, I’m pretty sure your wife doesn’t know she’s IN the “open marriage” you list on OkCupid if your profile reads: “Married guy with a Wife that’s interested in sex as she is in taking out the trash. Need someone I can connect with.”
And then under OKC’s fill-in-the-blank prompt of, “I spend a lot of time thinking about,” he writes, “I future with someone who appreciates me more.”
Wow… Take me, sir. Take me hard.
Jesus, dude. Maybe take four seconds and spin that into something a little less angry and tragic? You need a publicist. And a proofreader.
I may have to cancel my other date, because as it turns out, I may not be sexually frustrated ENOUGH to hook up with an open-married man with herpes simplex 1 (the cold sore kind).
Womp, womp.
I’m actually bummed about this. He was my first online dating spark and I was looking forward to meeting, kissing, and eventually sleeping with him. Understand how MUCH I was looking forward to it, because I’m actually debating, “What are the odds I already have/will get this?”If this were any other guy, it’d be a Fadeaway tout suite. But Dude was willing to go out to dinner with me, fuck me, then LEAVE, and he’s not an idiot. THAT’S THE DREAM.
Obviously I’m glad he told me, and I’m going to get my own full STI screen. Who the hell knows, maybe I already have it — you can get it a million different (non-sexual) ways and never show symptoms. If I DO…well, the bright side is that sex is on. But if I don’t, I don’t want to go through the rest of my life disclosing this to potential partners and boyfriends because I had casual sex with a married guy.
It’s interesting: I polled a few friends about this and got divided responses. Some people said, “Eh. No big deal, everyone has it,” and others were like, “No. That’s some soulmate shit, not something you want to get from a married fling.”
One friend said I was “Chandlering,” a nod to Chandler Bing from Friends, who used reasons like “mascara goop” and giant heads as excuses not to date women because he was afraid. I AM afraid, but truly believe I haven’t rejected anyone for the male equivalent of “mascara goop.” I’m waiting for a decent bit of chemistry, someone worth shaving my legs for, and genuinely haven’t had it until now. Also, Chandler’s romantic issues ended with one of the top 5 best marriage proposals in TV history, so if I AM Chandler, I’ll take it.
In researching this, I’ve learned a lot of places don’t screen for herpes as part of a routine STI test — you can add it to the standard test, or you can test for it separately. So I’ve had “an STI test,” but I think the woman said those screen only for chlamydia, gonorrhea, and HIV. So… “The more you know… *brrrrring*”
I’ve also learned that Googling “herpes” will make you never want to have sex again, and that getting tested for STIs is a tremendous pain in the balls: my insurance won’t cover testing at Planned Parenthood, and I can’t get a gyno appointment until April. Can’t they add this to CVS’s Minute Clinic services? It seems pretty important.
Also, it is not at all weird that my personal Facebook, not connected to OkCupid in any way, suggested I add Hot Married Guy as a friend. But damn, he’s cute… Goddammit…
Dude, what the shit is wrong with you?! That girl is, like, 12 years old* and a floppity bajillionaire
megastar. Who gives one iota of one kitten’s dick if she’s not married? Jesus. You leave Katniss alone, Diane Sawyer! 
“…This whole year of, ‘Who am I without these movies? Who am I without this man?'” Girl, preach. Let’s get together and have coffee and braid each other’s hair. We’ll talk.
Speaking of hair, I should probably call my hairdresser right now and warn her that once I see Joy, I’m also going to hack my hair off with some raggedy scissors and then have her fix it. It seems fun and cathartic. Or I’m just a crazy celebrity copycat.
* OK, fine, she’s 25 — same difference. Clearly a spinster. Christ, I need more cats — I’m totally behind here.
I can’t get this to embed because the Internet hates me. But click, it goes to Facebook. 
Smug Singleton 