As IF I could not post after tonight's Bachelorette finale (and my mom told me three times she's sick of seeing my last post when she logs in.) Jef and Emily are the most wonderful, beautiful, amazingly happy couple I have ever seen. I want to be in their relationship. It just looks so fun and intimate! I genuinely believe they are soulmates. I cried when Jef proposed. I cried again when I watched the recap.
I was a bit confused by my tears. They were happy tears, right? Because I wholeheartedly wanted Emily to find a father for Ricki. Because I am so happy to see two people find love. Not because I am excruciatingly envious of a woman my age finding a husband and living happily ever after. Right? Of course not. Still, I would be lying if I said that watching the Bachelorette finale was the first time I'd cried today.
It was earlier in the day while talking to Daniel, the love of my life from Israel. He's finally coming to visit (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) It seems to have all been worth it--the Skype dates over shoddy internet connection, the turmoil over misinterpreted What'sApp messages, the drunken google-translating ("BUT WHAT FRENCH WHORES HAVE YOU BEEN HOOKING UP WITH?!") at 4 o'clock in the morning. Daniel is flying in from France in three weeks, and not a moment too soon. Today I accused Daniel of not being excited enough for the visit. He encouraged me to take another look at the price of the ticket. I did. He also said a million of the things that made me fall in love with him in the first place. I cried.
I am beside myself in anticipation for his arrival. I've planned every meal, every drink, every romantic walk in Brooklyn Bridge Park. I've also planned every meal on my diet until he arrives. He will fall so hopelessly in love with my post-Israel body that he'll have no choice but to move here and marry me. Assuming the wings, beer, and breakfast sandwich I ate at 2am last night don't count, I've been doing very well. Okay, so I treated myself to a (medium!) fro-yo this afternoon after our traumatic Skype call. But dinner was a turkey burger with sauteed mushrooms and onions, served with cabbage and shaved broccoli slaw. Total 17-Day-Diet shit.
Daniel's impending visit is making it very easy to ignore my current dating life. The dating scene in New York is also making it easy to ignore my dating life. Maybe it's because I'd rather go out in Brooklyn and share fifty buffalo wings and three pitchers of Coors Light with my three best friends than wear heels and go out in Manhattan. Or maybe it's because guys on OkCupid and Match.com have figured out that a second date is all it takes to convince girls (me) that they're boyfriend material, and therefore worth bringing back to their (my) apartment. No more, sirs. Not with men like Jef out there. From now on, it's Jef-quality man material or it's snuggling with my air conditioning remote. Who needs a big spoon when you've got uninterrupted, climate-controlled sleep?
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