Tag Archives: Love

I believe in signs

I believe in signs of home. When I hear Maria Muldaur’s Midnight at the Oasis or Bonnie Raitt’s Nick of Time, I smile. They are songs I used to listen to on repeat with my mother and they touch a soft spot for my graceful transition into being a mild hippie. When I hear those songs, I must unlock my iPhone and let my fingers find the familiar numbers of my family’s land line.

I believe in signs of work. For every opportunity I pass by or that passes me by, well, I don’t see them as mistakes or missed chances. Instead, I see them as stepping stones on the way to something better. I see them as a reminder that being this good takes work, and that work takes time.

I believe in signs of love. I believe that every man that didn’t scoop me up to be his was preparing me for a larger love. A love that our hearts have been preparing us for with every heartbreak. A love that we all deserve.

I believe in signs of fate. Or is it signs of faith? Because as I perused the selection of literature at the NYC Housing Works Bookstore, I came across the uncorrected proof of a title I’ve been obsessing over written by an author I’ve been mentioning as my “future mentor.” A reminder that the more I write, the closer I’ll get to a dream coming true. It was a blessing in paperback.

I believe in signs. Small signs, short signs, tall signs, fat signs. I believe in them. I suppose because I need something to believe in (don’t you?). So, I welcome signs when they come: the joy the might bring or the challenges they represent.

Like I was saying, I believe in signs. All of them.

On Learning How to Relate

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I’ll be honest: being a princess is much easier than being understanding.

As an only child, I quickly learned to filter the things that were important to me from the things I chose to care a bit less about. The things that took priority were my parents, my dog, my books, and myself. To this day, I still feel off-kilter if I don’t get my daily family update; I still read books from cover to cover; and I still relish going to the theatre just to say “one ticket please”.

Suddenly it’s not just me anymore, and as an only child (and self-proclaimed princess), I’m learning how to say “for two.”

Para dos. Pour deux. Per due. Para dois. Dla dwóch osób. برای دو نفر Für zwei.

This language lesson is not for nothing. The more malleable my tongue, then the more flexible my mind. The more flexible my mind, then the more I’ll be able to relate. The more I learn how to relate in a relationship, the more comfortable we’ll become. And with every step towards comfort, the more I’ll replay this song below.

So, as admitted before, I’m not the most understanding person… but I’m working on it.

A Valentine’s Day Lament

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I’ve always felt a certain amount of disdain for discomfort in Valentine’s Day… The amount of pressure that lies on the head of this day is truly beyond my ability to comprehend.

If you’re single, you do one of two things:

Option 1: You spend the day having cocktails with your other single girl friends – toasting to being (you guessed it) single.
Option 2: You eat ice cream from the carton and drink wine from the bottle in front of the TV.

If you’re taken, you spend ages planning for an expensive dinner and buying expensive gifts for a day that, in my opinion, means nothing special.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the colors red and pink, I sign almost everything with an xx or an xo, and there was once a time I signed all my blog pots with “♥”. And I love love. I really do – it’s even in my twitter profile. But I love those things every day, not just once a year on 2/14.

I grappled with how to reconcile my feelings about Valentine’s Day side by side with my having a boyfriend this year. Clearly, as I write this post with a furrowed brow and a confused face, I still haven’t figured it out but I can at least tell you my plans:

Tonight, I’ll spend Valentine’s Day with My Honey, only because I want to see his face and he wants to see mine. We’ll go to a nice restaurant in Queens. I’ll get a little fancy just because, and we’ll toast to what’s to come. I have no interest in heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolates or expensive gifts on this day because for me, that’s not the point. I want for nothing more than him (and perhaps some grocery store flowers) and he wants for nothing more than me (and perhaps a nice cold beverage). And because we’re an imperfect pair, we’ll probably drink one too many beers and stumble home in laughter together – just like we’d do any other day. And that’s what’s important, enjoying each other today and every day.

Happy Valentine’s Day (and every day) to you and yours.

xx, xo, and ♥,
Mai

I Love to Watch You Leave

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love is the new black It was under the haze of a few beers and the glow of the grill that my boyfriend and I shared a private kiss at a house party last summer. We had escaped to the patio for a little quiet, and a little smoochin’. When I turned to go back inside, he said “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

“Okay, ya creep!” I called out as I sashayed through the door with a wink.

It wasn’t until months later, when I accidentally caught a (semi) private moment between a couple on the N train, that I understood what he meant. The couple shared a joke, a kiss goodbye, and as she left, this woman’s boyfriend watched her walk of the train, and kept his eyes on her until she was past his line of vision. His face was calm, soft, and there was a slight trace of a smile through the corners of his mouth. He really did love to watch her leave.

It got me thinking about this moment in other instances of life. I have vivid memories of being dropped off by parents, a friend, or an old boyfriend at various locations. Without fail, I’d hear: “I’ll wait here to make sure you get in safe”, no matter the time of day. When driving myself, my parents still walk me out to my car and wave their goodbyes until I’m beyond their sight. And when you put the idea of “watching you leave” like that… well, I suppose there’s comfort in the idea that someone loves to watch me reach my next destination. And, as someone who gives herself completely, it’s important for me to be able to return that gesture.

What about you – do you have someone you love to watch leave?

Labels of Luxury & Labels of Love

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My mother recently gifted me the most incredible collection of Coach bags. They’re lovely and worn from her running around town in her 30′s & 40′s, collecting bags she assumed would be classic in years to come. When I told her these bags were being re-released in a Legacy Collection, she frowned. “I wore these at your age! This is the real deal, my little cookie cutter”*

Most of the label hangtags from her bags are missing. I imagine because she wore the bag to wear it, not to flaunt it. Often, when I wear them, I long for the classic leather label to dangle off the side. It’s a symbol of authenticity, regardless if it’s small size. It says to me: this right here? This is the real deal.

It’s funny, the emphasis I put on material labels, and the leniency I used to practice when it came to relationship labels. I used to pretend I wasn’t bothered by a man’s hesitation to “wife me up.” Through a strained smile I’d say things like “he’s a nice guy,” or “he’d never intentionally hurt me.” I’d go months in these situationships thinking patience and good behavior would win in the end and I’d be asked the 3 little words I longed to hear: wanna go steady. Even in a recent episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta, the women gave advice to poor Kenya (who wants nothing but a ring) to be patient, not-uppity, and that he’d come around.

For me, it took the brutal honesty of a girlfriend to bring me to tears at brunch (I’d like to blame it on the bellinis) to shape up, and realize that for me, labels of love are just as important as labels of luxury.

My boyfriend spent Christmas in Weston with my family. The older generations introduced him to order family members as “Maiah’s friend.” I often found myself fighting the urge to correct them. Boyfriend. My boyfriend. But when my grandmother said, “I like your fella very much,” I knew I didn’t have to. “You look at him like you look at the world” my mother said before we left for 2 nights in Boston, just the two of us. The way I imagine my mother looks at my father. The real deal.

*Mom’s nicknames are different daily. Cookie cutter one day, buttercup or cupcake the next.

Book Review: The Lost Art of Mixing by Erica Bauermeister

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I’ve sung her praises once before, so it should come as no surprise that I actively hunted down Erica Bauermeister‘s new novel, The Lost Art of Mixing. As a follow up to The School of Essential Ingredients, I embarked on a beautiful journey of prose by the writer, who I almost prefer to refer to as an artist.

This new book takes us even further into the lives of Al, Isabelle, Lillian, and Chloe. With each window of insight into their lives, Bauermeister teaches you about your own life in a way that reminds me much of the kitchen. She slowly stirs, leisurely whips, and brings each character to a slow boil, a simmer, that makes you implore for more.

This excerpt, told from the voice of Isabelle, is what made my heart leap out of my chest and onto the pages of this gorgeous piece of prose:

More than once, Isabelle had envisioned herself a balloon in Abby’s life, helping to lift her daughter off the ground she clung to so desperately, although Isabelle doubted her daughter saw the value in this. But now Isabelle wondered, as she sat on the jostling chair – what would happen if there were no balloon pulling her daughter upward? Perhaps gravity might seem less attractive if it wasn’t helping you hold something else to the earth. Perhaps you could simply, finally, let go. [via, page 157]

Please. Pick up this novel, hitting bookshelves January 24, 2013. If what I’ve said isn’t enough to make you buy this book when it comes out, then pick up the work for the reason below: There is no better place to escape from the realities of life than in a book. Especially The Lost Art of Mixing, a story that takes you to a universe filled delicious smells from a love-filled kitchen, and the ups and downs of many entwined lives.

Disclaimer: I received an advanced reader copy from Putnam, in exchange for a review. The thoughts above are my own, and were in no way influenced by the generosity of this gift (I call it generosity because I love Erica Bauermeister. To review this book was more a treat than a task).

Having A Man In Your Life: The Best & The Worst

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Girls are stupid. If we don’t know this yet then I’d like to publicly declare: girls are dumb (so are boys but that’s not the point of this post).
As women, our lives completely change based on the inclusion of a special someone. There are good changes, and horrendous ones – and as women, all we can do is go with the flow because it’s completely beyond our control.

Here are a few of my favorites (and least favorites):

The Bad: Thinking He’ll Keep You Warm
We walk around the city in the smallest outfits, without something to keep us warm. First thought: him! He’ll keep me warm! Sure, he’s likely larger than you, stronger than you, and perhaps by default he gives off more body heat than you, but he’s not a sweater. He’s not a scarf, and while he may drape his arm around you, he is not your blanket.

The Bad: I Don’t Need A Wallet
Yes you do, homegirl. Despite a man’s inherit want to make us feel financially secure, you should always have your own funds. Aside from being independent in this way, you’ll make him feel special when you sneakily pay for the bill (even if he pretends he’s upset about it).

The Good: Sugar Daddy Day!
It’s my favorite holiday! The best part about it – it can happen any time I/he wants! Sugar Daddy Day! What a treat! Sorry, too excited and forgot to explain: Sugar Daddy Day (SDD) is a day where your man pretends he has trillions of dollars and treats you to everything and anything you want. I know, I know. I just said don’t forget your wallet, but sometimes a lady needs a treat. Besides, let’s not front, there is something sexy about a man who can take care of you monetarily.

The Good: Missing Him
This one is bittersweet. It’s a total whirlwind when you meet someone you miss when he’s not around. It’s slightly painful, but at the same time, it’s a good indicator that the person you are dating is good to have around. The minute he leaves and your hand reaches for the spot where he just was, you know you’re in deep. But what’s even better? Knowing he’s missing you too.

Xx,
M

Mine

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This weekend I attended the wedding of my Martha’s Vineyard brother, Owen, and my new Martha’s Vineyard sister-in-law, Erica. I’ve been looking forward to their wedding all year, especially having grown up with Owen, and knowing what a special person Erica must be to have captured his heart.

The thing I loved most about this weekend of love (besides the lobster rolls and sea air) was the intimacy and honesty throughout. Between the love, the romance, the shared secrets, and the jubilation , I was over the moon. Here are 3 things I took away from the weekend of #OwenLovesErica.

You Are My Business
We all practice being strong and independent but at the end of the day, it’s comforting to have someone looking out for your well being. I suppose it makes me old fashioned to want to belong to someone, and want someone to belong to me. I was surrounded by these long loves on the Vineyard this weekend that served as inspiration. My mother’s friend and her husband have been married for 43 years and danced the night away like they were my age. The next day at breakfast, the husband complained of a sore back from too much dancing and his wife suggested he walked around and stretched. He joked “why don’t you mind your own business” and she replied, “you ARE my business.” What a perfect response.

Epic Wedding Bands are for Lovers
The band at this wedding was incredible. If only they’d slipped in a stank face and a singing fist, they would have been invincible. It made me realize, while having a DJ is fun, there’s nothing like a wedding band going H.A.M. on Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind.

Vows Are Meant To Be Personal
I used to want to say the same words every other couple is prompted to say at their wedding. And then I went to Owen and Erica’s. Your relationship is personal, it’s unique and exciting, and the people at your wedding want to see that. Personal vows help us catch a glimpse of your inner workings (ahem, “Boom boom”) and helps us see why you work as a pair.

The Anatomy of a Date

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I recently found myself on a date for the first time in a while with someone completely random and new. I was so excited, and so nervous. And along the way I learned two important things: men love a damsel in distress, and dating is a multi-step process:

The Set Up
I was struggling with a box almost as tall as my 5’8″ self on the corner of Broadway & Houston when a man (a knight in shining armor) asked me if I needed help. “I’m trying to get a cab” I squeaked. I’d been trying for over 30 minutes and was exhausted. He nodded, hailed me a Gypsy cab, negotiated the rate, put my box in the trunk and said “i cant let you go without knowing your name and number.” I coyly smiled and on the ride home, he set up a date. Straight forward, to the point, I was hooked.

The Awkward Second Greeting
To me, the second greeting feels like the first hello. You likely met at night, or in passing, or you were so thrilled you didn’t take a full inventory of a face. This, my friends, is my fear. We chose to meet at the venue, and as I found my way to the location (because GoogleMaps is like my best girlfriend), he spotted me first and and I pretended to search for building numbers to buy myself (and my nerves) some time.

The Nervous First Words and the First Sip of Wine
We embraced in a friendly hug (what else was I supposed to do? Shake his hand?) and he stumbled over a few words. Something along the lines of “yesI’vebeenhereneveronce”. Huh? And then: “shouldwesitandeatoreatorsit?” Welp. We sat, we ordered, and after a few sips of wine we each eased into conversation. My nervousness drifted away because he was nervous enough for the both of us. And it was within this moment that I had the re-realization that dates are fun. Getting to know people is fun, regardless of what it turns into later.

The Sad Goodbye
While sharing a cozy table with my date, I willed for myself to find something about him I couldn’t live without. It was during this time, that I was trying to force chemistry, that I learned something very valuable: the moment your date starts to sound like a character in Charlie Brown, its time to go home.

I like to blame my reaction to this date on my only child status but 3 hours later, I found myself desperate for 2 things: (1) the restroom (2) some quiet time. My anxiousness to leave made me fidgety and when I told him I had to meet a girl friend (always have an out, ladies), you’d think I’d punched him in the heart.

The Follow Up
There is no better feeling that receiving a text about how great a time your date had. Despite how I felt about him, it felt great knowing I’m a fun, exciting, and beautiful date (his words, not mine… and also, duh). Along these lines, there is also the fact that as humans, we are constantly in search of closure. I know first hand (as we all do) that there is nothing more frustrating that the evaporating mate. So instead of letting his texts go unanswered, I let him know I had a great time too, but we’d be better off as friends.

How about you? Did you encounter many of the same elements on a recent date? Any important steps I’m missing? Leave a comment and let me know!

I Grew Up On Whitney

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I danced to her first album at the age of 2. I watched my VHS of The Bodyguard so much with my mother that the tape is warped. I have choreographed dances to songs from the soundtrack, the best being to I Will Always Love You, I’m Every Woman, Run to You, & Queen of the Night, because those songs are just brilliant. When she released My Love is Your Love, I had gone through my first heartbreak, and as a result, played Heartbreak Hotel on repeat. Whitney influenced my life immensely and I know I’m not the only one.

Having spent the beginning of the new year planning a number of events surrounding the biggest week in music, I was eager and excited for a potential glance at this incredible musician. The week culminated in the news that (1) I would be attending the 54th Annual GRAMMY Awards on Sunday night, and that (2) my music icon, Whitney Houston passed away in a hotel room in the Beverly Hilton. The Clive Davis Gala, which was scheduled for that same evening in the same hotel, was briefly cancelled, and then back on, serving as a chance to gather music greats in a space to celebrate her life.

The next day, I entered the STAPLES Center, I expecting a feeling of mourning to emanate from the arena. Instead, I was greeted with a prayer from LL Cool J and a celebration of music. A gorgeous tribute by Jennifer Hudson was tasteful and not flashy. The focus was on a beautiful voice and raw talent – just like Whitney.

May she rest in peace.

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