How many bathrooms is too many?

As I’ve mentioned before, when working the night shift, one doesn’t always make the best decisions. Still nursing a broken heart (ha! see what I did there?), I’ve done my best at trying to keep as busy as possible over the last several months. And with V-day fast approaching I was not going to spend it sitting at home on my couch watching Bridget Jones’ Diary. So, after perusing the Eventbrite app and seeing all of what my city had to offer on Singles Awareness Day, I closed my eyes and at precisely 1:39am I hit the ‘purchase’ button for a ticket to Be My Valentine – Boston Speed Dating.

Yup, that’s right.

Now, any knowledge I have re: Speed Dating is limited to what I’ve seen on episodes of Sex And The City and in the movie The 40-Year-Old Virgin (I still laugh to myself when I meet someone named Gina. Anyone else?). So I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. As 8pm approached, I never thought of canceling. I didn’t feel nervous. Maybe I was still delirious from the lack of sleep but I put on my big girl shoes (specifically, booties by Fergie) and headed out.

When I walked in, I registered with the ladies running the event and got the low down on how it was going to work: the ladies would stay seated the entire time and the guys would be the ones to rotate. We were to write each other’s names and numbers on the scorecard and then rate how it went. We would be notified the following day of any matches.

The Scorecard

The Scorecard

From there, I headed straight over to the bar. A quick look around the room at the gentlemen who were already there and I decided there was no way I was gonna get through this sober. Glass in hand, I took a seat near a friendly looking woman and started chatting her up. Yes, she had done this before. Yes, it is sometimes awkward. Yes, the drinks will help (she recommended a minimum of two). “The best part”, she told me, “is that if the guy is a weirdo, you only have to talk to him for a few minutes”. Perfect. I could handle this. I gulped down my Whitehaven, put on my best smile and we were off.

My first “date” was a relatively normal, attractive guy. And before sitting down he asked me if I wanted another drink. Perfect. Maybe one could find love here. However, when we got to the bar I got a little nervous. Does he pay for my drink? This isn’t a real date. Should he have to invest $12 in a glass of wine for 5 minutes of smalltalk? I didn’t think so and I made sure the bartender charged my drink to the tab I had opened. Back at our seats, we got to talking – he explained how much respect he had for nurses as his mother/aunt/sisters were all nurses. I was interested as to why he had a red rose made of chocolate in his suit pocket. But before I had the chance to ask him, it was time to switch.

The next guy sat down and one look at his short-sleeved button down shirt covered in American flags and images of Mount Rushmore, I had a feeling he wasn’t my kind of guy. Then, after he sat down and his opening line was, “So, how many bathrooms do you have in your house?”, I knew he wasn’t my kind of guy! <Sidenote: He had six. I only have one. I mean, how many should I have? Do one need a backup? I digress.> Trying to pretend like I hadn’t heard the question, I remembered what my “friend” had said at the start: if they are weird, it’s only for five minutes. So I had polite conversation with him and I even took away a fun fact: George H.W. Bush was born in Milton, MA. Well, who knew! I made a note to myself to pull out that little nugget in case of future dating emergencies (i.e. awkward silence, inappropriate questions). Pleasure to meet you, sir…but you’re not quite my type. On to the next.

And the next. And the next. There continued to be some some awkward moments. Like the guy who sat down and commented on the choker the girl he was just talking to was wearing. She overheard this, looked at me and said, “This guy is a jerk and you shouldn’t talk to him”. Thanks for the heads up, girl. Or the guy who sat down and said he hoped I was “more normal” than the last few girls he had sat down with. “Normal?”, I asked. “Yea, like you don’t have any kids do you?”. No sir, none that I know of. And I left it at that, deciding not to get into the fact that having children is generally considered to be a pretty normal human activity.

At the risk of sounding old, with about 40 people trying to speak to one another, it was quite loud which made it difficult to hear my potential suitor sitting across from me and get the proper pronunciation/spelling of his name for my scorecard without shouting. By the time it was over, I had had enough. I realized I had said the same thing on repeat for the last hour and a half: “Hi, I’m Jacqueline. Nice to meet you. What do you do for a living? I’m an ICU nurse. Yes, its intense. But yes, I do love it. Where are you from?  I grew up about an hour south of the city. However, I’ve lived in Boston for about 15 years.” So I somewhat understood when date #17 sat down and even before introducing himself stated, “I just want to go home.” Nice to meet you too, buddy.

Tired of saying the same thing over and over again, I started to begin the conversations with, “What brings you here?” And I got several different answers. Some were serious about finding love. Others had recently relocated to the area and were looking for a partner to explore the city with. And still others were there because their roommate had forced them to come, one guy had been invited back after an unsuccessful matching at the last event and another man seemed to be using the event (or at least the majority of his time with me) as a therapy session.

It certainly wasn’t all bad but it’s safe to say that I was never inclined to check the box ‘Definitely Fancy A Go’. I had some short and sweet conversations with many of the men. Most of the guys were polite and easy to talk to. Some were mature, intelligent and good looking but not quite my type. Others were immature and therefore, also not my type – surely I’m referring to the group of guys I had witnessed performing wrestling moves on one another at the bar when I had first walked in.

So, despite the fact that I did not have my full wits about me on Monday night at work when I purchased the ticket, I was glad I went. It got me out of the house, out of my comfort zone and gave me the opportunity to reexamine and reignite my dating skills. Now, will I do it again? Probably not. But I will definitely recommend it to my girlfriends looking to give themselves a little kick in the ass.

The night ended on a high note when I had the opportunity to ride home with my Uber driver Nancy – a very sweet, happily married (for 26 years!), mom of three. After finding out where I had been for the last two hours, she was inquisitive and excited to hear all about it. She patiently listened to me vent and when we arrived at my apartment she turned around, looked at me and said, “Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ll find someone.” It was so genuine, heartfelt and motherly that I think I believed her. I immediately got on the Uber app and sent the ‘good conversation’ compliment as well as five stars her way.

Update: I just received an email saying I matched with three guys. The email included their names and email addresses. I’ve already received an email from one of my matches who remembered specific details about our conversation. Impressive. I, on the other hand, can’t remember a thing about him. I mean, I remember most of the conversations I had, but to put a name with a face after 20 mini-dates that were each very much like the one before it? No. I cannot recall who he is, what he looked like or what we talked about. I can only hope that the Savy B didn’t cloud my vision and I did indeed check off the correct box. I’ve responded and agreed to have a drink next week. I’m positive hopeful I’ll be able to pick him out of a crowd in a bar. Stay tuned…

2016 Was A Good Year?

For most, January is often a time of reflection and resolution and I am always happy to jump aboard the (inevitable) pain train. For the past couple of years, January started with statements like, “2014 2015 2016 is going to be MY year!” or “2014 2015 2016 is the year I REALLY figure my life out!” as well as hopes for the coming year that usually included a deep desire to feel more fulfilled, wishing I could accomplish more (even if I wasn’t quite sure what that was) and hoping this would be the year that it would all turn around for me.

In the week leading up to 2017, I listened to one of my favorite podcasts, The Joy Junkie with Amy E. Smith, and something clicked. Her How to Make Shit Happen in 2017 episode made me realize that it takes more than a good ‘ol wish and a prayer to achieve real change. I recognized that my previous ‘resolutions’ (as stated above) were blanket statements with no clear outline as to what they meant, no measurable ways of deciding whether or not I had achieved them and no clear timeline as to when I wanted to complete them by – all things that are necessary for success and lasting change. This year, my resolutions look similar (um, because who doesn’t want to have their best year EVER?) but I have clearly defined what that means to me and I have outlined specific things I can do to achieve them.

The biggest point I took away from the episode was that while most of us are all gung-ho about setting resolutions for the New Year, we hardly ever take a look back to congratulate ourselves on what we DID accomplish in the prior year. 2016 was a tough year for me – words like ‘challenging’ and ‘lonely’ come to mind. But after stopping and taking a minute to look back, I remembered I did a lot of cool shit and I did grow along the way. And that, my friends, shocked the hell out of me. What I thought had been ‘another year wasted’, truly wasn’t. Though it was tough and my life didn’t do a 180, I did make progress. I did move forward. But most importantly, I kept going.

For your viewing pleasure (in no particular order), here are some of my funn-est/proudest/happiest moments of 2016:

i took a couple of pretty cool vacations!
Miami for the SOBE Winefest!

Miami – SOBE Wine & Food Festival!

Nashville, TN

Nashville, TN – I’m always down to tag along on a friend’s work trip!

I chopped eight inches off my hair! #shorthairdontcare

Hair by Jessika at Salon Luis

I saw BeyoncÉ in concert…

…and cole swindell and florida georgia line and kenny chesney!

Chaperoned by some of the greatest people EVER.

I started going back to church.


For the first time in three years, I put up a Christmas tree…


…and sent a photo christmas card 🙂

So, yes. 2016 was good (even despite the bad). But 2017 and I are ready to show ’em who’s boss. And the best part is…it is all right on time.

I Agree With The Baby Boomers


I’ve always been one of those people who quickly becomes annoyed when I’m with a group of people, I look around and everyone is on their cell phone. I find myself slightly perturbed when I get together with a friend for brunch and they place their phone on the table to be sure they won’t miss a text or an alert. And there are people out there who still forget to turn off their cell phone ringers at performances, meetings and even church. Ok, we get it, you’re important.

These things bother me for several reasons. Most importantly, when I’m with my bestie, I want to socialize with them especially if it’s one that I don’t see often. I want to tell them things and have them answer me – I think it’s called conversation. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d like to make eye contact too. I would like to know that our relationship and our interaction is just as important to them as it is to me. (Also, I don’t receive nearly as many text messages as the rest of the world.  So while my friends are aggressively answering their text messages over brunch, I usually find myself in the deep dark hole of the ‘Explore’ section of Instagram trying to look like I’m doing the same. Yes, I’m aware of how pathetic this sounds, so don’t put me in that position, m’kay?) Though I’ve never uttered the words, I sometimes want to channel my inner baby boomer and condescendingly ask, “What did we ever do without cell phones?”

With this being ranted said, I was quite surprised at how uneasy I felt when I recently found myself without my cell phone. Actually twice. In the matter of a week. As a person who is self-admittedly annoyed at others dependency on their phone, I realized just how dependent I was on mine, how lost I felt without it and how it’s become somewhat of a security blanket, particularly as a young, single gal in the city. Let me explain.

Back in December, I decided to take myself on a date to the Holiday POPS at Symphony Hall. I must’ve gone a little overboard with the texting as I grabbed dinner beforehand (hey, what else does one do when sitting alone at a bar?) because my phone died as I was waiting for a kind stranger to take my picture in front of the holiday display. Grrrr, annoying.

Without my phone, I was unable to have photographic proof that I actually attended the POPS – I mean, did I really see the performance if it wasn’t documented on Instagram? Also, I had gotten into the venue by scanning the electronic ticket on my phone, but now at 0% I had no idea where I was sitting. So there I was, waiting in line at the box office to get an actual <gasp> PRINTED ticket!

Without my phone, the walk home also had me uneasy. I needed to be sure I didn’t get A) abducted – because the authorities wouldn’t be able to track my whereabouts from my phone with it being off, B) robbed – because I wouldn’t be able to immediately dial 911 to give the full description of the thief. In addition, I deferred going for a nightcap because I was unable to summon an Uber in the sub-zero temperature. And finally, I had no idea what I would’ve done at the bar by myself without my phone. Actually converse with someone? Ya right.

Later that week, I found myself without my phone again. I got all the way to work and realized I had left my it at home charging in a spot in my apartment that I don’t normally charge it (thank you, Christmas light extension cords). I felt super uneasy without it. How was I going to call for help if I got stuck in one of the notoriously unreliable elevators at the hospital? What was I going to miss in the world of Facebook? How was I going to pass the time at 3am if I couldn’t swipe right or left? I was in a full blown panic the more I thought about it. That morning was supposed to be the coldest of the season. What if my car didn’t start? What if I got into an accident on the 1.5-mile drive home and couldn’t document the damage with photographs? I’m embarrassed to say that once my patients were settled, I immediately drove home to get it.

None of these scenarios in which I was without my phone were serious or life threatening. Nothing bad happened to me because I didn’t document my POPS experience in perfectly filtered photographs. I could’ve jumped in a cab if I really wanted to grab a night cap. And I certainly could’ve survived a 12-hour shift without it – surely that’s why they have those ’emergency’ buttons in the elevators, right? What was I so worried about? I was starting to feel like a complete hypocrite. What had happened to me, my morals, my beliefs in social interaction?!

What had happened was I unknowingly became accustomed to the convenience/awesomeness of today’s technology and trusted some of the most important things in my life to a device. My photos, phone numbers (that I surely don’t know by heart), appointments, banking, apps that I use for transportation, exercise and socialization were all on that little iPhone 6. In addition, I constantly use my phone to check the weather…how else am I supposed to plan my outfits? And yes of course, there are times I utilize my phone to avoid social awkwardness or sometimes, social interaction (i.e. being on my phone at the bar clearly screams “leave me alone” right?).

In order to avoid this situation again, I’ve taken to using my brother’s little mantra before I leave the house: ‘Keys. Phone. Wallet.’ And I don’t leave until I’m sure I definitely have the second one (as well as my charger). Do I find it ridiculous that I rely this heavily on a device that weights 4.5 ounces? Yes. Do I care that much? No. Because everyone else does, too. In the words of the baby boomers, “It’s just the world we live in today, kids”.

No, but seriously, if we are hanging out, put your damn phone down and give me your undivided attention.

3 Things I Know To Be True At 03am

As you may have already read in my Real Nurse Jackie post, I work permanent nights (7p-7a) in an ICU. My co-workers and I are constantly laughing to each other about the ridiculousness we deal with on a nightly basis. Most people wouldn’t believe the shenanigans that go on in the hospital when the lights go down – and it’s not always patient-related. You’d be surprised what personal information your co-worker wants to share with you at 3am. Or what you, yourself are willing to cop to when you know you’re in good company. I thought it might be fun to shed a little light on the situation in a (hopefully) recurring segment. Below is my musings from last weekend. Enjoy! 

3 Things I know to be true at 03am

A co-worker’s ridiculous story with the punchline of, “I’m too fat to drive” will have you belly laughing so hard it hurts. This probably sounds like a you-had-to-be-there kind of a story, but you’d be surprised what you find funny at 3am. As I’ve mentioned before, working the night shift can be daunting. However, as a person who works permanent nights, it’s always fun when a day-shifter joins us for the 7P-7A shift. They aren’t quite as accustomed to being up all night and therefore almost always get hilariously delirious. This past weekend was no exception. And my co-worker’s ridiculous recap of her recent trip to Vegas had us all in stitches!

The Kimoji app seems like an appropriate purchase. Ok, truth-be-told, I don’t regret this 3am impulse purchase one bit. I love the Kardashians (don’t worry, I fully plan on defending my stance in an upcoming post – I’m sure you’re on the edge of your seat…hang in there). Regardless, the Kimoji’s are hilarious and 100% amazing. They were worth every penny of the $1.99 I paid. And every single one of my friends is loving my Kimoji-inspired texts. If you’re a Kardashian fan (it’s ok if you’re ashamed to admit it) or even if you’re not, take the plunge. I promise you won’t regret it.

Do not indulge in a second piece of spanakopita. We were gifted a very generous helping of this savory Greek pastry from an appreciative patient’s family member. It was delicious. So at 3am when I was looking for a little snack, I helped myself to a second serving. While it was just as tasty as the first go around, the heartburn that set in afterwards was cruel and unusual. Next time, I’ll stick to some toast.

Image via

Happy National Margarita Day!


I am smack dab in the middle of stretch of 4-in-a-row which has left me very little time to get some content together – so this post is gonna be short, but sweet. In light of it being National Margarita Day, below you will find my all-time favorite recipe for “beer”-garitas! I was introduced to them several years ago by a great friend who’s husband has a knack for making delicious libations and I was immediately hooked.

If you’re like me and you have trouble stomaching a margarita made with so much sour mix your face puckers after taking a sip. Or worse, one that is so sugary you can feel your teeth rotting as you drink it, then this is the recipe for you!

These margaritas are delicious and great for entertaining because they are even tastier when made in a big batch. The carbonation of the beer gives the tequila an extra kick and the added soda water helps to cut the acidity of the limeade without sacrificing taste.  Also, they are super easy and require only a few ingredients – no standing in line at the store juggling four different bottles of liquor and breaking your wallet at the same time.

So as I head back to work for night #3 of 4, please do me a favor and celebrate National Margarita Day by indulging in one two for me. Cheers!

Warning – these go down very easy and can hit you all of a sudden. Example: one minute you are enjoying them over casual conversation with your best girlfriends. And the next minute you are helping your friend to the guest bedroom (where she remained for two days until her mother came to pick her up) as she swears to you that she spontaneously developed vertigo. Moral of the story: don’t be like my friends. Drink responsibly, folks.


Recipe for “beer”-garitas:

2 bottles of Corona Light
One can of frozen limeade
Soda water

Combine the Corona Light and limeade in a medium pitcher. Fill the empty limeade can with tequila, add it to the pitcher and gently stir with a wooden spoon. Add a little soda water (to taste) and serve on the rocks with a salted rim. Garnish with a lime wedge and enjoy!