Three. Count them: Three. I have been told by three different people that they will set me up with someone they know. And we’re just halfway done with February, people!
What? Is being single when you’re 29 so bad?
By the third time that I was asked to go on a blind date, I spent a good proper one hour in front of the mirror, convinced that I probably had “Desperate single!” carved on my forehead and I just couldn’t see it. And so I tried to search for it only to realize that s**t, I need to have a facial soon. My face is breaking out.
If you’re wondering what happened to those attempted three blind dates, my answer to that would be this: Those three people who asked me? They’re still alive. But barely.
Don't you even dare ask...
When asking me to go on a blind date with your friend, please take note that I do not feel flattered. I know you have good intentions (such as seeing me all happy and finally in love again) and I thank you for that. But this blind date attempts? It really doesn’t leave me with a warm, fluttery feeling. See paragraph number three, about the mirror.
If there is one thing I have come to learn and come to terms with, it’s this: Marriage is not for everyone. Pretty much like being single is not for everyone. Both take effort and struggles that do not necessarily coincide with each other but yeah. Each scenario has problems that’s all their own.
I remain single by choice because it’s where I feel I am most comfortable. Friends and people have tried and will try to apply all sorts of psychology in figuring me out, in finding reasons why oh why OH WHY am I stubbornly remaining single . They tell me this isn’t what I want. Sooner or later, I would come around and would want to find a nice young man and eventually get married and have kids. It sounds nice. It sounds like a dream. Sure, I’m not closing my doors on that option. But. But but but…
But what if that’s not for me? What if I am:
a) meant to be on my own or
b) meant to become a single mom
I'm single and I'm busy living my life the way I know how.
Then what? Would the sky fall over my head and will my life end? I think that life would go on and I would simply adapt to the situation, making the best of what’s around. And the good part? I’m wholly in my element. I know it’s where I belong, it’s where I know my own self best.
Dear God,
Thank You for not bringing me that guy I asked you for all those years ago. Or the one from 2008. Or ’11. Or the one from that REALLY crazy request last month.
Thank You for loving me enough to NOT answer my prayers.
Thank You for teaching me that flying solo can create the strongest wings… and that being a brave single girl is a beautiful thing.
Thank You for reminding me through my earthly father what a protective covering should REALLY be…and unclouding my vision when I am blind and can’t seem to see what’s not good for me.
Thank You for showing me when I’m settling… and when I ignore You, thank You for meddling.
Thank You for sending me guys who didn’t love me enough…to remind me of what I’m worthy of.
Thank You for standing back & allowing me to make my own mistakes and to find my own way.
And when I crashed and burned because it was the only way to REALLY learn, thanks for not saying “I told you so.”
Thank You for holding my hand, even if I can’t feel it… For collecting the pieces of my broken heart, when I’m powerless to heal it… For being my strength, when I can’t be it… For guiding my path, when it’s dark and I can’t see it.
Most of all, thank You for loving me enough to keep me to yourself a little longer…And for using my weakness to make others stronger.
Ahh… February. The so-called Month of Love. Now people who are in love have an excuse to be cheesy/tacky and then get away with it while coming off as “sweet” and “thoughtful.”
Love is in the air...
February 14th. Valentine’s Day. A string of hearts. Serenading. Flowers! Chocolates! Dinner by candlelight! (Please don’t let me get started on how I suspect the motels here will be fully booked during that day and the days near the 14th.)
Everyone is in love. Or at least, that’s what Valentine’s Day makes you believe. And what about me? To quote from a Bright Eyes song, “Another year I claim to total indifference.” Although I have never had a boyfriend during this day, there was one guy I have dated who made it to Valentine’s Day but we never went out for some screwed reason I can no longer remember. The feeling I have right now is that the reason is screwed, ergo not valid. But I know I didn’t care, since I never was an advocate for Valentine’s Day. (My dad never fails to tell us during this time of the year that this occasion was made so that entrepreneurs could make tons of money and it did not go deeper than that. Oh, Pops, you are such a cold, cold man of reason and logic but I still love you. Please don’t forget to drive me to work tomorrow. Thanks! Much love! Mwah mwah!)
So. Back to Valentine’s Day… Which leads me to saying this: What’s a single girl verging on her thirties to do? I have options:
Finally give in and go out on a date.
Be in hibernate mode for that weekend and stack up on junk food, iced tea and DVDs.
Sleep the weekend away.
Go out with friends who are free that day and just be awesome!
My answer? I think I’m going with number two. Except. Except that I plan to start on focusing on bringing back whatever creativity I have left in my system.
Creativity, come out come out, wherever you are!
It has been so long (way too long) since I last wrote something decent or made a collage or did something with Photoshop. I’ve been so caught up in the whirlwind of work during the weekdays and socializing during the weekends that I’ve tuned out what’s inside me. And it was an unexpected trip to a bookstore yesterday that made me vow to myself what I just stated above. I will dig my toes back into the creative sands and whip up something, even if it means soaking my brains and then hanging them out to dry afterwards.
I was saving this post for Valentine’s Day because I highly doubt that anything in my romance department will change from here until February 14th. HA-HA.
But because I have this amazing knack for forgetting things, I decided to go ahead and publish this post today. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you the “Partner in Crime: Wanted” post:
amiable agreement / coercion / blackmailing a male friend to...
Admittedly, this idea has crossed my mind more times than I would care to count AND admit: To ease my parents’ and my siblings’ minds and soothe their fears that I am hopelessly maladjusted in the art of romance and relationship, I decided to refer to the following:
Sweet talk or coerce or blackmail a male friend to pose as my boyfriend.
This agreement needs to be properly documented, either written or in video.
The agreement will run for six months or less. Why six months? It’s just the right length of time. See the following points below.
He will participate in simulating the courtship period. Read: He WILL step into our house and get introduced to my parents as someone I am currently but not officially dating.
This is where the line is drawn: The moment he steps out of the house, we can part ways. He can go to the bar or to a friend’s house and I will go to… well, somewhere else. Point is, the moment we are both out of my parents’ view, we can resume our normal lives. Par-tay! Yay!
On the third or fourth month of our relationship, when we are now officially dating, he will join my family on occasions. He will commiserate with me as my family cracks corny jokes, shout talk to each other as if there are thousands of miles keeping us apart and yes. He will be subjected to conversing with my dad about any of the following topics: history, religion, current events, religion, the good old days, religion, alcohol, and did I mention religion?
We WILL go out on dates three to four times per week. Four is pushing it. I don’t want my family to get attached to the idea that I am dating him.
When I say “date” or “go out” it simply means he will pick me up at my house, say hello and converse with any present family member, we step out of the house, and then go our merry, separate ways. (See number five for reference.)
On the sixth month, we break up. And because I am big-hearted and all kinds of nice, I can magnanimously say that I broke up with him because I realized he is too good for me or because I need time and space and my decision has absolutely nothing to do with him, that it’s me, not him. (Sounds familiar, ex-boyfriends?)
Mission accomplished.
Yeah, okay. I am willing to pay for this. On an hourly rate, since all he has to do is show up at my house on occasions. Well, that and try to at least look decent and pass off as a human being. One who will make my family’s jaw drop and their first reaction would be, “Holy crap. I can’t believe he’s dating her.” And when they say that, I should feel offended and lower than low.
Will he complement me or will both of us be cut from the same cloth?
Here’s a list that gnaws at my brain:
He will be into PC games and I will never understand his obsession with “Guitar Hero” or “Skyrim.”
He actually reads the newspaper. (And by that I don’t mean that he skips everything else and dives right into the Entertainment/Leisure section – That would be me.) AND THEN, as if that isn’t enough, he would tweet or blog about it or post it on Facebook.
He knows – REALLY knows – what Java or Ruby (or both because he is terrifically, annoyingly smart) is. He knows that Java does not only pertain to that delicious, wonderful rice.
When conversing or blogging or tweeting or even posting to Instagram, he occasionally throws in words like “mordant” or “vestiges” or “anachronism” or “antebellum” and it is not to brag or make the rest of us feel bad for not taking enough time to at least use the dictionary and actually expand our vocabulary. No, he uses those words because, dude, that IS part of his language.
He knows grown-up things, geeky things, smart things, things those creatures from Mars know. AND he can discuss it or debate about it for hours.
And (this is the frightening part) he prefers non-fiction books over fiction. (I have a hard time picturing the two of us side by side, him reading Jacques Derrida’s works while I’m reading this book about dragons and fairies and trolls. This imagery just does not balance out.)
His favorite TV programs would be somewhere along the likes of National Geographic or History Channel. I can just see how I could discuss its parallelism with my choice of TV shows such as “Supernatural” and “Chuck.” Yep, it definitely sounds like a match made in heaven.
He is health conscious. Holy crap. I can see the relationship going downhill the moment I EVEN DARE put those junk food in my mouth.
He’s tech savvy. He knows the latest gadgets. As he rattles off about, um, some (ahem!) latest gadget’s specs and its pros and cons and then proceeds to a passionate monologue about it, I would just gawk at him and then say, “I’m sorry. You lost me when you said [insert tech jargon of your choice here].”
He is cool, calm and composed and knows how to deal with anyone and anything – from his boss to his colleagues to his mom and right down to his grandfather. (I get flustered and I panic when I’m caught off-guard by anyone. Heck. Even my sister’s dog catches me off-guard countless times with her (the dog, not my sister) crazy antics and I’m always left slack-jawed and incoherent.)
Do you see where this list is going? Now do you see why I worry?
Because the list above describes someone who is ABSOLUTELY the complete opposite of who/what I am. And believe it or not, I have never been with a relationship with someone who actually fits into any of the item in the list above. True story.
Neverwhere Door 