Split Second Decisions

It was bound to happen eventually; as big as New York City is, I find myself constantly running into people I know, whether it's been days, months or years since our last encounter. So even though I was shocked when I walked past my ex-boyfriend yesterday after not seeing him for two years, I couldn't say I was particularly surprised. I had imagined this moment, wondered when and where it would happen, how I would react, how he would respond, what it would feel like. As with most things in life, nothing really prepares you.

I was coming out of the 73rd street subway on Broadway, and a few feet after I exit, there he was, walking past me. Had I not looked up when I did, not been so naturally in tune to the contours of his profile and his gait (yes, even after two years, I remember), I would have continued walking. I touched him lightly on the back of his arm as I called out his name, and when he turned around and smiled broadly upon seeing me, I was terrified. What would he say? Would he stay and talk? Was he happy to see me? Could I hold it together?

He gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and said, "Wow, it's been a long time." He couldn't believe it had been two years(for the record, I thought I would be married and with a kid two years after him, but I digress). Apparently, he's working on a project right now on the Upper West Side, my neighborhood. And in all my fantasies and fears of running into him, I didn't imagine these elements: the pouring rain (oh, yeah, the rain made it even more spectacular), the near-miss, a job in my area.

He proceeded to tell me that I "look really good" with a slap-happy grin on his face, told me about his new nephew and how adorable he is, blah, blah, blah. And while we chatted, I was thinking to myself, I've got this. I'm calm, I'm smiley, I'm collected and cool. Who knew? I wasn't on the verge of tears, I didn't want to slap him across the face, I was OK.

Eventually he tells me I'm getting soaked, never mind that I had stopped noticing and couldn't feel it anymore. One more hug and kiss on the cheek. One more huge smile where he tells me how I look realllly good, literally giving me the once over, and I tell him likewise. "It was really good to see you," he said as we part ways. Again. Two years later.

As I walk the six blocks home, I realize I'm shaking. I come out of my daze, going over our encounter in my mind, finally acknowledging that I was soaked from the torrential downpour. What are the chances? Out of 8 million people, why then? Why that particular moment? Why, when i haven't been sad about him in MONTHS, nor even thinking about him, did I just run into him? I've had men since him, and I will have men in the future. Then it hits me. This is the irony of the universe. Just when things are fine, a ball is thrown at your chest, breaking the wounds and causing you to bleed, to reanalyze the relationship and the moment you met, the moment you parted after the "break-up," why it didn't work out, what could have been done differently, all the ruminations that cause these periods to be called heartaches. When I got home, I collapsed into a ball on the floor and sobbed.

I have been kicking myself since yesterday afternoon for not waiting for the 1 train at 42nd street. Had I stayed for that train,which I ALMOST did, instead of taking the 2/3 Express to 72nd, I never would have seen him. Those split-second moments, when we hop on one train and not the next, change our days, weeks and lives. You don't think,"I'll wait for the local, so I don't run into my ex whom I haven't seen for two years." This realization makes me wonder how many other random moments and decisions have prevented me from running into him before yesterday, or any other ex or one-night stand for that matter. I suppose, however, that this is what makes life interesting, even when the wound bleeds again.

If I hadn't looked up when I did through the rain and instantly recognized the familiar outline (which I would recognize anywhere, to be honest), I wouldn't have cried myself to sleep last night, aching for him again after all this time. Nor would I feel angry that I haven't heard from him since. How dare he? He has no right to re enter my life, albeit it was no one's fault. WHY doesn't he want to see me? Why not call, text, grab a drink? I will never know; I only know what I feel. Yes, I have healed from the demise of what was "us," but no, I'm not OK right now. I have relived the pain and hurt I felt two years ago for the past 36 hours. While I was walking in my neighborhood today, I wondered if he recognized the restaurants we would go to while on his job. Has he been reminiscing about our time together, is he eager to walk by my apt, just to be close to me, the way I have been remembering all our moments together? Does it hurt him to be near my presence? Was he excited to find out he'd be working near me, hoping to run into me, or was he indifferent? Did our memories even play through this mind, or was he secretly praying that he wouldn't see me, for whatever reason?

I know this is temporary and that it won't take me nearly as long to heal from this encounter as it did the break-up. I'm a different person than I was, as is he. I will never have the answers to the questions I want, won't know if he was shook up yesterday after seeing me or if he just forgot. Out of sight, out of mind, in typical guy fashion. I won't know if he's been dying to contact me but is ambivalent. Or perhaps he is with someone else and has no desire to relive what we were, even for a moment. At one point in time, we were intimately connected and aware of each other's day by day feelings. Now, he knows nothing of my life, and I know nothing of his.

However, I will say this: I'm happy he noticed how damn good I looked and had to tell me twice. I'm glad he seemed happy, genuinely so, to see me and hugged me tightly, the way I remember he used to whenever we saw each other. Mainly, I'm glad we weren't both in tears like we were two years ago parting by a subway stop, delaying the inevitable. The only difference was the rain. A lot of rain.

No Bridezilla in THIS House

The Wedding is this Sunday, and I don't think it's hit me yet. I'm thinking about my dad a lot, and what this means for my family structure. I will inherit a stepfather, stepsister, stepbrother and two nephews. I'm extremely happy that I have new, lovely members in my family and am thankful that they are normal, grounded people.

Nonetheless, all of the hoopla that leads up to this day has made me miss my dad and his mother, my beloved Grandma Ida, who passed away about a year ago. I think her death is finally beginning to set in. When my dad died, she actually said to me, "Now, I know you won't like what I have to say, but I really hope your mother remarries. She's too young (53) to be alone the rest of her life." I was touched that my grandma was selfless enough to think of her daughter-in-law's happiness despite her unfathomable grief. Therefore, I know that she would have been thrilled to attend this weekend, to see my mom happy and to be around her family.

Naturally, the fact that my mom is getting married before me is a little odd and the strangeness that my MOTHER is getting married PERIOD is a bit trippy. When I tell people about it, their faces light up and say, "Oh that's sooo sweet, that's so nice," especially when they find out she has been a widow. However, it's still a little strange that I've been helping a 63-year-old woman plan her wedding when I'm a single 31-year-old. What can I say, other than that I'm human.

I HAVE learned a lot, though, the past few months. For starters, planning a wedding should be fun. My mom and Shelley have had a great attitude about the event since their engagement back in January. They didn't stress out their children or family, they've been kind and understanding about gifts, and all they really want is for the day to be classy, special and fun. There was no cries of outrage at caterers, no tears about people who hadn't responded quickly enough, no anal conversations with their children about what colors they should be wearing and rarely any display of nerves (except before her dress fitting, as I detailed in my previous blog).

My personal experience has made me lose respect for people (women, especially), who lose their cool over the most inane, insignificant details. No one cares about the wedding as much as the bride (isn't that the truth, though?) so why stress? I can only hope that when it's my turn to go to dress fittings and to find the right hair piece, I can approach these tasks with a grateful and calm mentality. If not, I'll just have my mom do everything.

I'm the Mother

Growing up, whenever I was upset with my parents or felt they were being too strict or simply didn't comprehend why they were so concerned about the length of my skirt or the speed at which I drive, they always replied, "You'll understand when you have children." That statement drove me nuts because 1), it meant the conversation was closed, and 2), I didn't really get it.

I still don't have children, but a few years ago, I began to "get it." My mom had a Bat Mitzvah 3 years ago. There was a group of about 7 women from our Synagogue in CT-an adult Bat Mitvah class, if you will. As she walked up to the Bima and started her reading, my hands got sweaty, and I recognized instantly that this must have been what my parents felt like 15 years prior when it was me walking up to read from the Torah. I wanted my mom to do well because she had worked so hard. I wanted her to succeed, to be confident and relaxed because it was important to her, and moreover, because I loved her. In this moment, I began to understand the angst of being a parent and watching your child perform. My mother had become my daughter.

I had a similar experience this past Wednesday at my mom's dress fitting for her wedding. She picked me up at the train station that afternoon in Westport, and the second I got into the car she told me, "I'm sooo stressed. This dress-what if I hate it?" She then went into a five minute diatribe about how fat she would look and how she shouldn't have gotten blue or lace and that it's not sophisticated enough. There was no screaming or cursing--simply a typical bride freaking out repeating over and over, "Suzanne. I'm going to look like a blue blob!" At certain points I thought she was going to burst into tears. I had to call my grandparents to have them calm her down, which was a first for all of us, as those who know my mother can attest to her positive outlook, emotional stability and general "pollyanna-esque" attitude. She rarely freaks out, so this was almost unchartered territory.

Needless to say, she calmed down after the dress was on her (which I told her she would), and she was able to see for herself how exquisitely it fits. The pearl drop earrings and the bracelet looked stunning together and added just the right touch; I have never seen my mom look so pretty. In other words, I was kvelling.

I still found myself taking on the motherly role, though, and easing her fears that "no, it wasn't too tight," and "yes, the shoes look perfect," and "no, the bracelet and earrings don't have to be the exact same color, they look fine as they are," etc. etc (I will post pictures after the wedding).

I have a feeling that my maternal instincts will kick in again several times before the actual rings are exchanged, but truthfully, what are daughters for?

The Dress, Part 3

And finally, the dress has been chosen. After laboriously hitting every boutique on the Upper West Side along with 4 different BCBGs and all the various department stores in the tri-state area looking for the purple, rouched, taffetta dress that was shown in my last blog, I found out that it's officially out of stock. But fear not. The dress goddesses intervened, and I came across a one-of-a-kind navy cocktail dress. It's Laundry by Shelli Segal, but I cannot find it anywhere on the internet to post a link for you, my readers. It's not on the Laundry website, nor is it on the Lord and Taylor one, which is where I got it. I am dying to share my find with all of you, but you will have to wait until I can take a picture of it myself.

It's a shiny, navy blue with a strapless, sweetheart top, and the skirt part is layered with what looks like Spanish style fans, only they are upside down. They are relatively small and there are about seven layers of them going all around the skirt portion, which stops about two inches above the knees. According to my mom, it looks like something one would find on the red carpet (sans the famous celebrity wearing it and the $5 million bank account the owner would possess). Needless to say, it's exquisite, it's flattering, it will look lovely next to Sandy's Perriwinkle blue gown, and I will get much use out of it.

Now the shoe hunt begins. Stay tuned. I'm thinkng bone pumps, a la Laboutin, but with Suzanne-friendly prices.

Daughter of The Bride: What Should I Wear?

I'm happy to report that my mother may have found a dress. It's not metallic, and she doesn't look like a martian(if you have no idea what I'm referring to, read my previous blog). I haven't actually seen it, but based on her description, I'm thinking this is a more plausible option. It's a perriwinkle blue two-piece--long skirt and and corset-like top that doesn't show cleavage. Apparently, there's some lace on it somewhere, couldn't quite grasp where exactly when she was describing it. I'm still a little hesitant at the idea of seeing a bride in blue, but it's her wedding, not mine, and she's 63, not 23.

Furthermore, I may have found my own dress! I recently popped into BCBG in the Flat Iron District on a lunch break and came across a sexy, classy short dress. Check out the link: http://www.bcbg.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3983491&cp=2769162.2840697&page=3&pageBucket=0&parentPage=family. It's not as short on me as it is on the model, as I'm only 5'0. Otherwise, there's no way the Bride would go for it. Check it out, and let me know your thoughts.

I'm coming home to Westport this Sunday to try on the dress for my mom and to possibly look at others. Unfortunately, the PLUMED SERPENT, the store where she found her delectable, blue delight, is closed for Easter. So we will head to SAKS to see if Sandy finds anything else that tickles her bridal fancy-could do worse than Saks. Wouldn't you agree?

Feel free to send me links and ideas for dresses for my mom or myself or suits for my brother!

Daughter of the Bride: Part One

When my mom told me she got engaged, my first thought was, "My mom is getting married for the second time, and I'm still single." Now don't get me wrong, I'm completely thrilled for her and Shelley, as she has been a widow for 10 years, and couldn't ask for a more lovely man to become my step-father. I'm touched that my mother, who was happily married to my dad for 30 years, has found love again. That alone gives me hope for myself, for it makes me believe in healthy, loving relationships.

Nevertheless, I am envious that my mother is acting like a giddy 18-year-old and smiling profusely when gushing about wedding plans. However, I quickly realized that I been endowed with a huge responsibility; helping her plan the wedding. I am the Maid of Honor, and the Daughter of the Bride, two titles I am embracing. For those of you who have been one or the other, or BOTH, you know that they carry much weight and importance and are crucial to making the bride as happy and content with wedding arrangements as possible.

It's an odd concept (and one I never imagined I would do years ago), to be giving my mom wedding advice, but so far, we've been having a blast. I've decided to chronicle the journey as "daughter of the bride" up until August 1st, the day of the wedding.

My mother came into the city this past weekend, on Sunday, March 14th, to celebrate my birthday which was the day prior and to go shopping for me as a birthday gift. I suggested Loehmann's because we have a superbly keen eye for finding amazing clothes at even more amazing prices. But you know what's even better about finding a great bargain? Watching my mom look for wedding dresses at said "bargain" store.

Yes, readers, my mother, the classy, intelligent Sandra Dressler who always looks good while still wearing age-appropriate clothes, tried to convince me that she should wear a metallic silver wrap-around floor-length dress to her own wedding ceremony and celebration. It looked like tinfoil, a martian's costume, or even something a celebrity would wear to the Grammy's, but NOT something befitting my 63-year-old mother. It was an expensive designer, it was fun, but it was NOT a wedding dress, and I have no desire to be a maid of honor to an alien. Trying it on was rather difficult as we couldn't even figure out how it worked; she kept getting lost in the arms. Go figure.

So that dress is out. I tried on a lovely Nicole Miller, but it was too big, and they didn't have anything smaller. I'm in the process of trying desperately to convince my mom to wear something cream-colored or off-white. She's not interested in a wedding "gown," per se, but let's leave the metallics to trashy celebs.

To Match or not to Match: An Inside Look at Internet Dating

In my personal experience, there does not seem to be a middle ground with regard to online dating—it either works, or it doesn’t. I have never heard someone say, “Well, I didn’t meet anyone special on Match.com, but it was an enriching experience, nonetheless, and I’m so glad I took the risk,” and I doubt I ever will. And yet, if I know it’s a frustrating process and there’s an excellent chance I will not meet the man I’m going to marry, why have I spent the money to join?

I truly believe in the theory that dating is a numbers game. The more one puts him or herself on the “scene,” the greater the chance of clicking with someone. And the sheer design of many internet dating sites does get one’s picture/profile in front of many people. I have been a member of both Match.com and Jdate (the Jewish dating site), and they allow their members to browse through as many profiles as they wish. There is no rigid format for contact, and I’ve been able to email or send casual “flirts” (corny, quirky come-ons that are concocted by the staff) to as many men as I want at any time. What I’ve liked about these sites is that I’m in control of how I want to go about talking to someone and/or meeting him.

Ironically enough, however, the benefits of being able to contact anyone you like can also be a drawback. There seems to be a general consensus among Edaters that rarely do the people we contact and write to write us back. No matter how much you connect with someone on paper, regardless of whether or not you meet each others’ height requirements and other inane physical attributes, and even if you have both just completed Dante’s Inferno and are looking to have a reading group duet, when you throw the stone do not expect a dent on the other party’s computer screen. This “rejection” can feel unbearably frustrating and rather mind-blowing considering how perfect you may seem for each other (even though the two of you have never actually met, and for all you know, may have even been conversing with a 10 year-old in Alaska who’s an internet prodigy).

On the flip side, there have been men who have written me who are grossly inappropriate with their behavior and/or compatibility. I received an email from a man on Match once complimenting my photos and then asking me if I shaved my ARMPITS because he found women with armpit hair SEXY. Deleted! I later found out that a friend of mine who was matching as well received a similar email from the same person. I am not making this up, folks.

Not surprisingly, the best dating advice I ever received was from my mom. She is a beautiful, intelligent middle-aged widow of ten years and met her current beau, my future stepdad, on Jdate. He is a fantastic man, but she dated many men over the years until she found the right person and always gave me an interesting perspective on the Edating scene. In reality, she has high standards for men, as do I, but she always ventured a chance with anyone who met her minimal age, height (she’s tall) and education requirements—as long as the man didn’t look like a serial killer. She never even bothered to read what they wrote since she felt most of it was made-up to sound good anyway. “Don’t get excited until you actually meet the guy, Suzanne,” she would always tell me (I learned this truth the hard way). Meeting in-person is the way to go, as long as a phone call goes reasonably well. Of course, there was a guy who told her he was living in a small rented room cluttered with his collection of electric trains. He never even got to go on a coffee date with her.

Speaking of oddballs, about a year ago, a close friend of mine started receiving bizarre emails from an older man on Jdate. She told him she wasn’t interested, but he kept writing her messages with explicit, sexual comments. When she began ignoring him, his friend actually had the gall to contact her and plead with her to give him a chance. I encouraged her to report them, and I believe she did, and that was the end of it, but it was a disturbing experience and led to her canceling her subscription.

Now don’t get me wrong--most people are not this crazy and weird. There are not many middle-aged men who live in rooms surrounded by electronic trains, and most women and men I know who have joined these sites are not harassed. I actually HAVE met many lovely people online, even if it didn’t lead to anything long-term, and I’ve had sweet, respectful, thoughtful men reach out to me.

Nonetheless, internet dating can be very stressful, so if you aren’t interested in belonging to a site where your information is open to hundreds of people, EHarmony could be a good way to go. Personally, I have never tried it, but I have friends who have, and they seem to like the fact that there is someone in the Ethersphere doing the work to set them up. This design diminishes the chance of harassment and annoying, persistent emails and IMs.

Please keep in mind that whatever site works best for you, even if it’s not one mentioned here, for there are many, people are not profiles. Chemistry on paper, via the phone or through emails does not necessarily guarantee chemistry in person, hence my mother’s encouragement to hold out on all wedding plans until you have face to face contact. And conversely, if someone is shy over the phone or doesn’t have the most attractive picture posted, he or she may be quite good-looking and extroverted in person. The simple truth is that one never knows. You don’t know until you meet someone if there is you weren’t warned.TRULY a connection. Don’t be too hasty to dismiss anybody nor should you base your interest on looks or “annual income” alone; we all know that’s a tiny part of any lasting relationship anyway. What people write is inconsequential, for it may not even be truthful.

Will you meet your next boyfriend online? Is your future wife swimming through the internet dating pool as you’re reading this? Maybe, maybe not. I know people with horror stories and ones who are madly in love with partners they met through an internet dating site. It’s worth the money to try. But if a man emails you that he’s attracted to women who don’t shave their pits, or if someone IMs you at 12 a.m. whom you have never met and wants to come over in his pajamas for a slumber party, don’t say you weren't warned.