Here’s my Happy Picture. It’s my nephew, Nicky. My mom snapped it with her iPhone at a Braves game last season and sent it to me. I think it’s during the seventh inning stretch and he’s singing Take Me Out To The Ball Game. I love this picture because he looks so happy. And if he’s happy then I’m happy. Oh and because he’s adorable and perfect. So there’s that.

About a month ago, when I was in Arizona with one of my besties, I received some tough love from in the form of a stern talk regarding some of my dating choices. She knows me better than most so everything she said was not only completely valid but the kind of stuff that sort of knocks you on your ass and makes you think “ohhhhhhhhhhhh.” She said I’m too preoccupied with finding someone funny and that I should stop focusing on that so much. I do admit to a weakness for funny men. I spent four years with a man who wasn’t very funny and I swore to myself I’d never do that again. It is of the utmost importance to me that I spend my life laughing. But my friend brought up several good points in regards to my infatuation with hilarious dudes. According to her, I’m quite funny and I love plenty of people who aren’t super hilarious but we still laugh together often. And while someone who makes funny jokes is great, for the long haul I don’t need a comedian or a joke writer or someone who is going to be performing bits for me all the time. What I need is someone who is HAPPY. And if I find someone who is happy, the laughter will come right along with him.

And I think she was dead on. Happiness is so very important. Not that the person has to be in a good mood 24/7 (although I’m probably one of the few people who wouldn’t mind that) but that they are positive, comfortable in their skin, settled and like life. I’ve spent too much time with men who were basically a few mere steps from miserable and I’ve decided life is too short. I’m happy and I’d really like to have a happy life so I’ve decided to try and look for that in the men that I date. It seems obvious now, but it took me awhile to get here. And by the way, I recently went on a date with a happy man and it was incredibly refreshing, not to mention a hell of a lot of fun. I thought to myself “ohhhhhhh, this is what happy looks like.”

So here’s to happy men and happy weekends. I hope to find both. xo, Amy

{images from LIFE photo archive}

The Peach State by The Wheatfield

I have a wee addiction to art from home state. And I just might have to add this print (sent to me by a good pal) to my ever-growing collection. I’m heading back to NYC this morning so for now, I’ll just bask in my post-Georgia-visit glow. There’s just something about being home. It’s good for the soul. It must be because you get to see all of your favorite people and fill up on all the love and goodness that only they give you. Or maybe it’s the Chick-fil-a.

Gucci Cat Eye Sunglasses with Web Temples | Tory Burch Polarized Round Hinge Logo Sunglasses

Ain’t that the truth? Happy (belated) Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. You’re fabulous and fantastic and you make the world go round. But the biggest and heartiest Happy Mother’s Day is reserved for my own mom because she’s the kindest oman I know and a constant reminder of what strength and love look like. We celebrated how we always do, with pizza and a game. It was great to be here live and in person, to celebrate her as the awesome mom that she is. She’s the best. Truly. Hope you had lovely celebrations of your own.

I have plenty of friends who have been off the market for quite awhile. Friends who have been married and/or in committed relationships for years. And they always ask me “what’s it like out there?” And I think truthfully it’s probably pretty much the same. There are some goods ones and some bad ones. Some who want to get to know you and some who just want to get in your pants. But I think one thing that’s changed is, and I kid you not, 95% of all communication is done via text. And I get it, I’m a pretty voracious texter too. Texting is easy and quick and perfect for lots of things like a simple question or a funny aside or an “on the way.” But, texting definitely isn’t romantic. And so much of the romance is already absent from the whole online dating process that it’s a shame when the few remaining opportunities for romance are cast aside. Any form of communication where you have to include a smiley or a wink to make sure the other person gets what you’re saying is definitely imperfect. And I think the reliance of texts, specifically in dating, is kind of a downer.

I’ve gotten nice texts, sweet texts, dirty texts, awkwardly long texts, hilarious texts, photo texts and sad/pathetic/pleading texts. But the one thing I haven’t gotten a lot of is phone calls. And let me be clear, I’m not staunchly anti-text or anything. I don’t have a rule about not going out with a guy if he texts or anything like that. But, if he calls, I take notice and it makes me smile. It’s such a small thing but it says “hey, I like you enough to call you.” And it means something. In this weird world of online dating there’s something personal about calling that reminds you you’re still just a girl and he’s still just a boy and you’re trying to see if you like each other like people have done for years. I’m a sucker for the phone call. I love hearing what guys sound like on the phone. And I think the quasi-awkwardness of the first few phone calls is totally sweet and endearing. I guess I’m still a little bit old fashioned. And I almost took a second date with a guy who I had decided not to go out with again SIMPLY BECAUSE he called. True story.

So to all the boys out there (who aren’t reading this), pick up the phone and call us girls. We really like it. Alright, that’s my two cents. Where do you fall on texting vs. calling?  And seriously, have a fabulous weekend. It’s the smart thing to do.

xo

Amy

(image credit: Karen Mordechai via Cup of Jo)

The meal, provided by Sunday Suppers and guest chefs Jewels of New York, was quite delicious. I mean, there was homemade nutella with sea salt for the love of all that is holy!

(image credit: Karen Mordechai) via Cup of Jo)

And the company, an assortment of creative women, was lovely and inspiring. (There’s me again in the stinkin’ pink sweater! And that’s Jenny Komenda of Little Green Notebook)

(image credit: Jamie Beck)

Thanks so much to Joanna for including me, to Sunday Suppers for the beautiful meal and location, and to Pinhole Press (who I already loved for allowing me to make my silly Christmas cards) for making the whole thing happen.

It’s bound to happen. When you go on as many dates as I do, there’s gotta be a couple duds in there, right? And I feel like I’ve been incredibly lucky so far. Most of my dates have been at the very least completely pleasant. Of course, I do tend to see nothing but the best in people so that could be part of it as well. But a few weeks ago. It happened. I had a terrible date. A date that couldn’t end fast enough. The minute I saw him I knew. Even if he had been the most interesting, hilarious and charming man in the entire world it wouldn’t matter because there would never be an attraction there. Never ever. (He was approximately 5’3″* and was wearing what I can only describe to you as a women’s khaki trench coat). His face had a troll-ish quality. To make matters worse, he was a terrible conversationalist. Now, I can talk to a brick wall and conversation is one of my greatest skills but I just couldn’t do it this time. I really wasn’t up for carrying this date. So there were silences. Long, painful, nightmarish silences during which I could feel him starring at me and it was making my skin crawl. All I kept thinking was “Alright self, how long do we have to stay here?”

So what is one to do? What is the protocol here? Can you just cut and run or do you have to stay and be polite? I’m still trying to figure that out. In this particular case I stayed for two drinks. One just felt awkward mostly because I downed the first one like a champ. But once that second drink was finished I got the hell out of there. Of course, he insisted on walking me to the bus stop (even though I essentially begged him not to). And mid-walk he tried to put his arm around me and because he was so much shorter it was the most awkward maneuver that has ever been attempted. Then he stood at the bus stop starring at me for a painfully long time. I have never been happier to see the M8 pull up. I nearly embraced the bus driver for saving me.

The thing about a bad date is it can really (really) get you down. It’s a quick way to feel pretty hopeless about the whole dating scene (I’m done. I’m never going to meet anyone. Blah blah blah). But, like anything else you let yourself feel bummed for a minute and then keep going and you try again. And wouldn’t you know it, since then I’ve had a couple pretty redeeming dates with a few promising ones on the horizon. Come on guys, you know one terrible date isn’t going to slow this gal down.

p.s. what was your worst date?

happy weekend times! xo

Amy

* sliiiight exaggeration

I’m beyond excited about this and I hope you’ll all go buy one (or eleven) immediately. I would totally owe you one (or eleven).

 The Jealous Curator (with help from Victoria of sfgirlbybay) and Inward Facing Girl also designed cards for Jack Cards. Heck, buy ‘em all!