Please, don't call me Carrie

Years ago, four women came together to create a HBO series that would change the way women look at relationships, sex, and shoes. I was a huge fan. I still am. I’ve seen the first SATC movie and own all of the seasons on DVD, but most recently I’ve felt like there’s something I need to clear up.

I am not Carrie.

The writing of Candace Bushnell and the characters she creates are phenomenal. She breathes life into four very different women with her words, witty antics, and some pretty amazing fashion choices. (see picture on left)

I don’t own Jimmy Choo.

I’m flattered that the women of Chicago (and some of the men even) think my style is something that could even compare to the lovely New York ladies who run the streets of Manhattan. It’s not that I can’t or don't want to have that, I just refuse to pay $800 for a pair of shoes and a grand for a wallet. I’m notorious for finding the perfect cute shirt and jeans at a reasonable price and some of my best “pieces” have come directly from the super saver rack at well-known department stores.

I don’t live drama.

At one point in my life I had a Big, you could say. But he wasn’t tall, rich or educated – and he only lingered around because I couldn’t get him to go away. I’m a drama-free girl, which sometimes means hearing the absolute truth. A friend or boyfriend with a thick skin (or an open ear) is a must have.

I tell it like it is.

Aside from the moments when I’m whimsical and carefree, I am completely honest about the experiences I have. I don’t disclose personally identifiable information but I do share what’s real for me, the things that I see – and hope that those experiences help others, and shape me in the process.

So to the friends who say, “Oh my god, you’re like Carrie Bradshaw!” after reading my blog please remember that on these (e-)pages, I am sharing my world; hilarious, sad, sometimes mildly entertaining.

And when the entries end, and no one subscribes anymore, I’m still just a Single Girl trying to figure it all out.

Operation Beans: Uncommon Ground, Wrigleyville

If someone asked you to describe yourself as a caffeinated beverage, what would you be? A red eye? A large drip with room? What size? Would you have extra shots of some delicious syrup?

I’d be a double short Americano. Not only does it sound incredibly cool when you order it but it comes in a small package and packs a serious punch. My 5’10 height aside, I’m a small package, but the contents of this container are hot.

Sunday I headed north to the lovely neighborhood of Wrigleyville and camped out on the Uncommon Ground patio. When I last wrote, I mentioned that I would list my 10 coffee shops and visit each one, sit by the door, and smile at (almost) everyone who walks in.

This visit was successful. Let’s just say while I didn’t spend much time people watching, I did spend 2.5 hours talking with a very nice person. We discussed the gorgeous weather we’ve been having (minus the twister that went through downtown Chicago last Friday) and held a very casual, comfortable conversation outdoors – I had mint tea with lemon (single girl battles a cold this week) and this person had iced tea.

At the end of the evening I looked down at my waterproof puma messenger bag (looks cute but doesn’t hold squat) and realized I hadn’t even cracked my laptop open. Nor had I really smiled at anyone – except across the table.

A successful evening? I would say for my first attempt, this was a good set-up for more of what’s to come. I’m optimistic and open. And if at the end of my visits to 10 coffee shops, all I walk away with is a great conversation, well single girl say that’s just fine.

This Sunday, single girl heads north to live it up in Lakeview, Intelligentsia on Broadway.

Order up.

-S.G. 

Hurry Up & Wait

My horoscope today says, “You are easily charmed by anyone who behaves in a flirtatious manner toward you now”. Oh, great. You might as well just call me desperate. Stupid zodiac.

This sounds like a recommendation to not do any dating right now. Which works out perfectly because no one is asking me out anyway. Awesome.

Close to two months single (again) and I don’t really have the desire to meet anyone new. Don’t get me wrong, I tried but it just didn’t feel right. I think I just need more time. Or perhaps I should be putting that energy into something else like training (30 days and counting til the big race!) or spending time with my friends. Chicago summers are phenomenal, and with today’s weather being mid 80s and sunny, I feel like it’s a calling to get out there and just enjoy myself.

The pressure of meeting someone can feel like the weight of the world – especially when your friends and family (who are really wonderful people) are always asking you about your dating life. Deep down they want to see you happy but it creates this weird pressure of wanting something, even needing something that you don’t really want – or need.

How long after a break-up before you should “get back out there” and try to meet someone new? There are rules – I googled them. There are different schools of though, of course. Some believe you should start dating the next day. Wow, that’s fast! Others think that as soon as your ex starts dating so should you. Hmmm, okay. And finally, those that have used a mathematical formula for dating; Take the amount of time you spent with a person divide in half and that’s the amount of time you need to “get over it”.

I have to object to this one. So that means my long-term relationship of 6 years would’ve required that I take 3 whole years not dating. What! That’s just wrong dating mathematicians. So wrong.

I say wait until you’re ready. Perhaps, occasionally dip your toe in the dating pool and see how the water feels.
Ice cold? Jump out immediately, go for a run, have coffee with a friend.
Tepid? Test it out, cautiously. Use those cute little floaties if you have to! Comfortably hot? Dive in – just don’t get burned.

-S. G.

Reject Me Not

How's this for rejection?

Yesterday I went to give blood. I sat down next to the nurse, answered a series of strange questions, (apparently if you've lived in the UK for more than 5 years you can't donate) and spelled my last name 3 times until she finally typed it correctly in her computer.

At the end of the questionnaire I was given a disapproving face by the nurse as she said, "Sorry, we can't accept your blood. You're rejected". What? Not only have I been striking out in the world of dating these days but now even my platelets aren't good enough.

At the beginning of the year I spent a week and a half in Central American with a great love. Apparently we spent some of those great times in a malaria-infected area which perhaps could've been a sign that we were headed to Splittsville (population: me).

 To add insult to injury, the nurse would not let me leave the donation center until I gave her all of the areas that we stayed which meant I had to look through all of my emails including hotel confirmations and notes about how wonderful the trip was - in order to find that I stayed in a malaria-infected area and could not donate blood until February 2011. February 14th to be exact. C'mon!

After reliving my trip in 2 minutes I was given a rejection letter (no, seriously. It says you're rejected) and a sticker that said, "I make a difference". I begrudgingly stuck it to my shirt, kicked a proverbial can, and walked back to the office.

Returning to my desk, I thought 1) damn those mosquitoes! and 2) sometimes you just don't get what you want. I wanted to make a difference yesterday but I couldn't. I tried unsuccessfully.

On a related note, I've stumbled across what could be the most inspirational video ever - yes, ever!
If you find yourself rejected by a single boy, having a tough day - or (god forbid) the Red Cross is "just not that into you" as a donor, take a moment to enjoy this video: http://www.someecards.com/card/3628

Coffee Shop Experiment

This weekend I felt truly single.  Friday night I ordered in and watched "Pretty Woman" on TBS. Saturday morning I had some retail therapy at Old Orchard mall (I'm crying while looking at the receipts right now - I spent $38 on lip gloss. Please don't judge).

Sunday morning I drove out to the suburbs and did a 50 mile bike ride around the lovely community of Barrington. Last night I got caught in the rain during a dog walk and went to bed around 9:30 p.m.

Single girl life is a bit on the slow side these days. With triathlon training (six days a week), a semi decent social life, and a dog, I find myself incredibly busy but often times bored. This week I have plans 6 days out of 7. I'm not super excited about any of them though. Well maybe my next long bike ride or a long swim at the gym.

I was reading online this weekend (while consuming some very delicious carry-out from Coast) about ways to meet people in the city. There was a top ten list of some sort that walked you through the "best of the best" as a sort of how-to guide to finding someone new.

#1 was actually intriguing; Spending time at a coffee shop.

Apparently the aroma of ground beans and scones elicits a certain romance in the air conducive to meeting someone on a Saturday or Sunday morning. In my case, Friday or Saturday night.

I thought of all of the great coffee shops in Chicago. Now granted, I love a grande non fat chai from Starbucks but (no offense buckers) I mean real coffee shops. Coffee houses that have slightly worn sofas with funky music playing in the background. Where the majority of people inside have plastic framed glasses and converse. Where everyone's a Mac and a double short of something booming with caffeine.

So today I'll start my experiment: Operation Beans.

Create a solid list of stand-up coffee shops in Chicago proper and pick one day per week to spend at least an hour with beverage, perhaps a book, and just watch.

The article I read said, "sit by the door and smile at every person that walks in the door". I subscribe to the smile policy but every person that walks in? The Baristas will likely ask me to leave because people will think I'm creepy. I'll use my judgement on choice of facial expression day of.

Day: Sunday (only day free)
Coffee shop: Uncommon Ground (Wrigleyville location)
Time: Evening

Between now and Sunday, I'll be compiling the rest of my list. Please send along any suggestions you may have and if you see a tall single girl on Sunday evening with plastic frame glasses, stop by and buy me an espresso.

-S.G.

Freedom to do, well whatever...

I've been trying this new thing where I smile at everyone I make eye contact with. Walking down the street there are opportunities left and right to meet new people (friends, more than friends, whatever).


I see someone, I make eye contact and smile. Usually they smile back. At the very least, it makes their day to know people are still pleasant in this city. People still care. Maybe this whole smiling thing will turn into something bigger. Maybe I'll smile at the right person and something great will come out of it. It only takes one.


Single in the city (loving the weather) is such an interesting experience. Talking to a friend the other day, I explained how when you're single you have absolute freedom to do anything you want. 
Let me say that again; absolute freedom to do anything you want.


If I want to sit at home and watch TV all Saturday afternoon while it's gorgeous outside and sunny, I can do that. If I want to spend my evening watching movies, eating popcorn and drinking champagne I can (side note: I did this a few years ago and it was awesome. Made for an interesting morning the next day, but fun nonetheless).


The freedom you have as a single person is something we should cherish. A few weeks ago I hated it. It felt uncomfortable and empty. Now I sort of get why people like it so much.


On the flip side, being in a relationship, coupled up with someone you love (and who loves you in return) is also an amazing feeling. You can always count on this person to be there and that makes you happy and full of joy. Let me say that again; you can always count on this person and that makes you happy.


Coupled life is really wonderful. Having experienced a great love, I know that when you're with someone who complements you and cares about you, you feel like you're floating. You are sleeping on clouds under the most beautiful sun, shaded by warmth. You feel, well - great.


Do you think that we're meant to experience both of these at various times of our life? Sometimes being coupled is just what we need while other times eating cookie dough and watching Bridezillas does the trick. I have to believe that they're both equally important. To know your self alone, as you are, nothing more, no one beside you. But also to know your self together, with someone, and all that they bring, right beside you. Just a thought.


Right now I have the freedom.
Tomorrow? Perhaps the next smile will tell.

My Little Secret

Some of my readers know me.
Some of them don't.
Some people might put two and two together and know who Single Girl really is.

That being said, I can't share a secret that I am dying to tell all of you.

We all have secrets. Whether they're personal secrets about ourselves - or secrets a friend has shared.
Secrets are like gifts. We give them to others who we trust. We take them, gracefully.

Like a bud, a secret can grow into something much bigger than it really is.
In relationships, our secrets can feel like mammoth-sized moments where we have to have a straight-forward, open, and honest conversation with our partner.

Secrets that aren't major can sometimes seem huge to others.
Those that are minor can break a relationship down.

Do we share all of our secrets with our partner? Brutal honesty if you will.
Or do we censor our secret? Knowing it won't hurt them - or at the very least, thinking it wont.

The idea of sharing our secrets seems risky.
The idea of getting our secrets off our chest seems healthy.
I have to believe that holding every single secret in, not talking about it, not communicating, has to be harmful. Hazardous to our health even.

Post Secret is one an amazing blogs. It encourages readers to send in their own secrets on post cards, anonymously.

Some are funnier than others:

Others are a little on the heavier side:

Do you know that 11,000 people joined a Facebook page to discourage this person from jumping off the bridge? They wrote notes, emails, and videos address to the person that shared this secret.
One person will print out all of them and tape them up on the bridge to discourage this person from leaving this world.

Single Girl believes in anonymity but I also believe in the support that we receive from other people can truly help us.

I'll be sharing my secret with Post Secret.

You? Send your secret somewhere.

But please, just send it.

On Online Dating...

Great quote from my good friend in South Florida:

"I mean, the conventional way of meeting people has worked for a lifetime. I don't think we should have to pay to find dates".

Culinary Catastrophe

Single girl doesn't cook.

Wait, I should clarify.

In an effort to impress a boyfriend and his friends, six months ago I cooked the most amazing pie. It was a pear, cherry, cinnamon streusel pie and it was like a carb version of baby Jesus. The crust was flaky and light, angelic even. It was handmade with love and the most fattening of European butters. The cherries and pears were tender yet firm. And the streusel? Oh, the streusel. Rolled oats snuggled with melted butter and crumbles of brown sugar, then mixed by hand to create the most lovely crunchy goodness.

(Close mouth. Wipe drool. Keep writing.)

The pie was perfect. Friends were impressed. Boyfriend enjoyed. Perfect.

Months later I tried to create another perfect pie for Thanksgiving and failed miserably. The crust was chewy and tough. The filling was undercooked and I was embarrassed to serve it to my family who thinks French Silk pie from Baker's Square is the best thing out there.

(No judgement French Silk lovers. I think it's pretty delicious too...)

Single again, I find myself trying to figure out what to eat for dinner.  Last week I dined on Chef Boyardee (directly from can), honey mustard pretzel pieces, and gummy bears. Yes, it's sad. I'm embarrassed to event put it "out there".

I took a cooking class a year ago with a friend. It was supposed to be targeted towards those who were intimidated by cooking. We made truffle fries, Chilean sea bass, and chocolate souffle. Really?

The down side (or at least one of them) of being single, is this immediate sense of responsibility to take care of yourself, cook, clean, have a social life, stay fit - and do it all with ease and grace. It's challenging to say the least and just when I have most everything down, something slips through the cracks.

I find myself in a pickle (pun intended!).  I get home from work and the daunting task of creating a meal that tastes good overwhelms me. Last night I went to the grocery store and bought 5 chicken breasts, boil-in-a-bag brown rice, and tomatoes. I'll eat this every night for the next 5 nights. Boring, I know. Technically though, I will have made it all by myself.

On top of this (sort of) new responsibility, many men look for a woman who cooks. Is it horrible to say I'll probably never be that kind of Single Girl?

Perhaps if you know a guy who enjoys cooking and can deal with my quirks he'll be okay with me cracking open a can of Progresso once a week and maybe (just maybe) trying to bake a pie.

The Run-In

We all know breaking up is hard to do. We know that what’s even harder, is running into that person after the relationship is over.

A week or so after a break-up the thought of a run-in gives me heart palpitations, perspiration, and a feeling in my stomach that feels like its eating itself. Perhaps that will be the next weight loss craze?

Months later (a couple of weeks if I’m lucky) I’ve recovered with just a little bit of sadness and instead of feeling crushed, I feel more powerful with a side of sadness.

The difference between running into an ex one week after the break-up compared to one month can be huge. One week and you probably have a bottle of vodka in your pocket and a roll of cookie dough stuck to your face. One month and you’ve likely been hitting the gym. Your biceps are cut, your skin is flawless, and you’re (hopefully) sporting a super sexy jeans and t-shirt (maybe even a side of new man? You go girl).

Picture this:

You were dumped one month ago but you’re getting by. You’re walking down the street and WHAM! You see your ex coming towards you. You’re 90% sure that he hasn’t see you yet but what do you do?

There’s a large bush two feet away that you could dive into but it could make for a painful afternoon. You can cross the street? You could look in your purse for some random object at the very bottom. Or you could walk right up to him and say, “Hello”.

What’s the protocol for the first run-in after a break-up? Do you think that your reaction should be based on how things ended?

I’ve always tried to be graceful. Aside from shedding a few tears post break-up, I’ve always tried to take the high road so I can actually show my face months later when I find myself on a city boulevard with ex boyfriend and nowhere to run.

Last summer I ran into my ex of 6 years and was completely cordial. One might argue I should’ve kicked him in the shins and ran off. I opted for a simple, “Hello. Good to see you” and “take care”.

A couple of crucial rules of thumb for your next run-in from Cosmo:

When you’re the dumpee: Cosmo says, “If you bump into the guy who emotionally gutted you” (great use of words Cosmo), “put on a brave face… no telling or crying”. So smart and advice we can all use!

When you’re the dumper: Can you say, awkward? If you were jerky when you did the ambush dumping, don’t expect a warm welcome during your run-in. Be prepared for a cold shoulder – a big one.

When you’re still kinda tempted: If deep down you were hoping this would happen (meaning you plan your outfits everyday based on the chance you’ll bump into him) try to get back in touch with reality. Make a list of the reasons you were not meant to be. And of course, compliment yourself on picking a stellar outfit.

And if none of these options seem like real options, then I say take that nosedive into that bush and wait a good 10-15 minutes until he’s gone.

No judgment.

-Single girl