a best friend will help you move a body...

if you haven’t seen the movie ‘my best friends wedding’, you’ve probably been living under a rock without female companionship for the past eight years.

unfortunately even if you haven’t seen it, you probably know the gist of it.

but if you don’t, here’s a quick summary: julia roberts is her normal quirky neurotic romantically challenged self. in the movie, she makes some dood (a completely forgettable male actor) promise her that if they are not married by the age of 30(?) they will get married to each other.

okay, okay… the details were not particularly salient (what do expect it’s a julia roberts film), but the impact of its ‘message’ was tremendous.

because as soon as that movie came out, it became socially acceptable to participate in this sorta thing (in otherwords it wasn’t considered ‘desperate’). subsequently, every girl (in the known world) forced every guy (in the known world) to promise that they would get married if the reached the age of XX years old (and neither of them was married). what was funny about this phenomenon was that nobody actually knew who would be married at XX years old(hell! i certainly didn’t think id be completely single @ twenty six) so there was ALOT of inter-friend-promise-cheating going on. ha!

i think i have one more year before id promised the first (of a couple) rounds of girls that we’d get hitched – and if things keep going the way they’re going… im gonna have to relocate to utah

which is ok, because i hear provo chicks are hot! (ha!)

but that’s not really the point of this post, its merely the groundwork being laid.

both in the figurative and literal sense of the word, since all of this nonsense really pertains to a conversation that i had this past friday.

tapas in chicago aren’t quite the same as they are in spain, but i certainly do enjoy noshing on a few while downing a pitcher (or two) of sangria.

that night, my friend and i had secured a spot at café iberico (which is quite a feat unto itself) and were busily stuffing our faces with monkfish paella, patatas bravas, tortilla espanola, and queso de cabra (not quite as good as ba-ba-reeba but i don’t want to get sidetracked by that particular argument right now)***, and getting caught up with each others lives.

as the night progressed, our getting caught up segued quite nicely into all the sangria getting drunk up.

which is how i recklessly found myself asking her about the last time that she had had sex with someone. fortunately for me, she and i are very close and are quite comfortable talking about practically any topic; unfortunately for me, we generally tend to avoid sexual topics because of an unspoken fine line of sexual tension between us.

so much for that one, eh?

but that cat was out of the bag, so we certainly embraced the moment (and some more sangria) by having a relatively open discussion about our most recent sexual past.

which is certainly not a big deal, except for the fact that it became common knowledge that one of us hadn’t slept with someone in close to a year (eleven months to be precise). and even that is not that big of deal, except for the fact that one of us (and i cant even remember who) made a joke about making a promise that if the cold streak actually looked like it could potentially reach one year, we should promise to take one for the ‘team’ and break the streak together.

which is sorta not really a big deal. (ha!)

unfortunately i don’t really remember how serious we were when we said it (ha!).

the actual funny part of this whole discussion came the next morning when i (w/ an aching head) realized that she may have had an ulterior motive for having this discussion – i think she wanted to know if id hooked up with anyone in my most recent south american travels.

the question you have to ask is - how good is my poker face? ha!

*** there is a long standing argument amongst chicagoans about where the best tapas can be had. cafe iberico is lauded as one of the best - although i personally prefer cafe ba-ba-reeba (for its livelier atmosphere, and less pretentious wait times). emilio's tapas isnt even in the competition. ha!