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Go here to read my newest column. It’s all about the paddles this week, kids. And oddly I’m still wanting to go back and try kayaking. It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact they sell pink kayak’s, right?

go here to read my column for this week.

click here to read this week’s column.

and if you’re looking for something to do tonight, come to in’s first birthday party! because really, what else is there to do?

I’m single. Did you catch that? Yes, The Yuppie and I are no longer dating. I wish I had a good reason why we aren’t, but I don’t.

Sometimes there just isn’t that connection you desire. I thought it was there at first, but it quickly faded as we settled into a dating routine. He was great on paper—educated, large, um, vocabulary, nice looking and above all had the patience to deal with me. But there was something missing: the belly warmth. You know what I’m talking about, right? That feeling in your stomach only a member of the opposite sex brings, or wood grain alcohol.

I wanted to fall for him. It just didn’t happen. After two months I should have felt a lot more than for him than I did. In the end I just felt anxious. Anxious because I had this amazing guy who seemed to fancy me, and as hard as I tried I just wasn’t there. I didn’t have any feelings to reciprocate.

What I was feeling (or not feeling) inside transferred into my lousy actions. We had plans to meet for drinks after he finished up work last week. Huge mistake! I’m happy The Jazz are doing so well, but I want my downtown back–the downtown where I can find parking. After 20 minutes of searching for a spot I finally gave up and tried paying for a parking space. The parking lot attendant didn’t have change for a $20. What the hell? After a heated discussion (read: me yelling at the attendant) I got pissed and went home. Sending The Yuppie a quick text explaining my patience was shot and we’d have to get drinks on a non-game night. He was less than pleased.

What followed was sort of a whirlwind.

He left all the items I’d had at his house on my doorstep. Ironically I was in the middle of composing an email to him when he sent a text message informing he’d done so. My email was apologetic for my recent behavior and just explained I wasn’t there. (It may seem crummy to email it rather than discuss in person, but I’m better with written words. I always manage to make a mess of a serious conversation, leaving important details out.)

The following morning I received a reply email from The Yuppie. Which left me in tears. He pointed out my flaws. I know I have them, who doesn’t? I just don’t want them pointed out to me. His email also suggested when I wrote this column I title it, “Convenient parking…more important than the Yuppie?” Another sting.

Like the good man he is, he wished me the best and mentioned there were no hard feelings. It needed to happen, I’m just confused. Who broke up with whom?

Since then I’ve been in a funk. Sure it wasn’t the relationship for me, but I still can’t stand the feeling of failure. And here I had yet another failed relationship.

I have yet to rid my apartment of his toothbrush and contact case. I guess I’m in denial that another relationship bit the dust. I can’t help but notice a similar pattern: Sarah dates great guy; Sarah doesn’t keep great guy. Why this happens I’m not sure… I need Prozac, therapy or wine. I think I’ll go with the latter—it’s much cheaper and I’m on a budget.

i know the coolest people. seriously! ak and his perfectly british, perfectly adorable wife had a joint birthday party. the theme was 60’s mod, and it was spectacular! you won’t find me in the picture because i didn’t dress up. not that i didn’t want to–i already had the perfect dress, but i wasn’t able to find my much sought after pink go go boots. it wouldn’t be fair to my dress to wear anything but.

anyway, to read the column go here.

to read this week’s column click here. sorry, it’s another wedding rant. i promise i’ll be over it soon.

for this week’s non-sarah column click here. once you’ve read it, if you’re dying to get a peek at the great and SINGLE marky go here.

urban princess and i wanted to have a reason to take picture of pretty boys (as if we need one!), so we create the slc hunk blog. bookmark it and watch for your own pictures!

to read this week’s ‘the dating years’ column, please click here!

for this week’s column click here.

and because i know you’re reading the rest of the paper ( you are, right?!), go here and let them know you’re reading and what you enjoy–you may even win a bling shirt like mine! if you’re not reading, you should be! you can start here where my editor missed the memo on pink being uber cool. just to avoid questions, i did not start the pink guy blog–i just with i had! as you can imagine this guy is my favorite man in slc. boyfriends come and go, but pink guy? he’s forever!

go here to read this week’s column. for those who sent emails last week wondering where cheese guy was, rest assured, he’s back. for how long is the real question.

this week’s column can be found here. at the time i wrote it i was okay with my age. today, however, notsomuch… i don’t know how wrinkles can develop overnight, but they did. i swear.

The strangest thing happened. I found myself living the lifestyle of a much younger woman – a junior high school girl to be exact. This sudden change has nothing to do with my new anti-oxidant face cream, but rather a much cheaper fountain of youth.

It all began three weeks ago when I found a note left under the windshield wiper of my car. Upon seeing it, I instantly starting wondering who I could have possibly pissed off enough to leave a note behind. It could have been the H2 I accidentally cut off earlier that day. Fortunately that was not the case.

I, Sarah Middlenameless Nielson, received a love note. Aside from the occasional Birthday card I’ve not received a handwritten note or letter for years. I miss handwritten notes; communication these days is only e-mails and text messaging. For me, there’s something wildly romantic about a man who takes the time to sit down and write a note. It’s beyond thoughtful, it’s downright sexy.

After a little sleuthing on my part, I found the note was from a man who’d noticed me in the parking lot of my office. It appears that he’d waved at me as he drove away one evening. Without a second thought, I waved back. I’m from the country, where waving is expected of all small-town residents. My return wave must have been all the encouragement he needed.

Admiring him for the guts it must have taken to leave a note, I left him one in return.  Simply thanking him for the note and encouraging him to come in and say hello. 

The following day not just one, but three, more notes were left on my car, each asking me to call him or leave my number so he could. 

I vaguely recollect seeing him driving away in his vehicle — just barely catching a glimpse, which isn’t enough. It’s not that I’m shallow (well maybe I am just a bit), but for all I know he could be a circus freak. That wouldn’t make him a bad person, just not a likely candidate for dating me.

At this point, I felt obligated to leave a second note in return. I wasn’t comfortable leaving my phone number on some random car, so I left my e-mail address instead. 

He e-mailed me shortly thereafter, again asking for my number. Since I’d explained to him previously I wasn’t comfortable with giving a stranger my number, I was started to get a little annoyed and didn’t reply.

He did a little sleuthing of his own, found my office number and called me at work. Another woman may have found this sweet, but to me it was entirely too evasive. I was polite but clearly irritated and ending the call by mentioning he was welcome to introduce himself to me in person. He suggested we meet the next day in the parking lot. I found the idea odd, but agreed out of sheer curiosity. 

The next morning I came to work, where I found an e-mail requesting we meet at the neighboring gas station for a drink instead. Substitute drink for Slurpee and suddenly my social life is that of my 14-year-old self.

Again, another woman might have found this cute. I am not that woman.

I let him know he was always welcome to walk in and say hello, but the notes and e-mails were going to stop on my part.

The truth is, on most days I’m content with being an adult. So, why would I subject myself to a junior high school style relationship? I’ll stick with my age and happily accept my laugh lines.