I’ve come to rely heavily on Depeche Mode’s take on GOD’s bizarre sense of humor — especially when it comes to my dating life. It’s been six months (give or take) since the scolding I got from Karen at the clinic for not practicing better cootie control. I cried abstinence, so I guess GOD decided it was high time I partake in taste-testing some crow by exploring what Mr. Ethical Slut coined as “camel sex.”
Sure, I’ve been dating. Just not seriously. I’m not ready to be serious. At least, that’s what I tell myself and all my busybody buddies.
Speaking of which, I recently stumbled upon a bizarre realization that all my engaged/married friends expect to live vicariously through me. Which is sad. As of late, I really haven’t got much to offer in terms of entertainment value. It hasn’t been pretty trying to explain what it means to have camel sex. Those dinner party points drop faster than Tiger scoring down by Pebble Beach.
Last weekend, one of my favorite married couples invited me over to meet the newest addition to their family. I absolutely LOVE kids, so I couldn’t wait to meet baby Noah. Little did I know that three other married couples (and their kids) felt the same exact way. Oh joy.*
*Look. I have NOTHING against happily married couples. I’m simply stoked when they start popping out kids. I really, truly LOVE babies. Just not when they poop. I can handle barf. I can’t stand poop.
Which brings me back to another thing I can’t stand: how SMUG couples get. It’s inevitable really. They can’t help themselves. I’m convinced of it. The moment your friends enter couple-hood, they conveniently forget what it’s like to have the “-itis.” As in SINGLE-itis.
Had I known I was going to get ambushed with FOUR sets of happily-married-couples, I would have been better prepared for the emotional onslaught to come. HELL, I would have printed and passed out copies of Potted Plant’s 7 Things You Should Never Say to Your Single Friends!
Alas, I was not clued in this time around. So I braced myself for the worst. If you’ve seen BRIDGET JONES’ DIARY — just imagine that dinner scene with all the couples. It promised to get THAT bad.
The funny thing is, I’m not writing this to bitch about married couples. I also want to point out that I’m not an instigator by nature. Nor am I a trouble-maker. I’m a peace-loving kind of gal. Just don’t EVER patronize me about my SINGLE-itis.
I state this because I’ve come up with the BEST way to deflect attention from my SINGLE-itis. I’m going to share it FREE OF CHARGE. All you have to do is ask all the happy couples to relay the “STORY OF US.” It’s quite comical to see how extremely squirmy the adults get. Especially those of the male gender. I mean, you’d think that after making us SINGLE folks watch those damn wedding videos delineating the time frame from which person A was born to meet person B — they’d have their story down pat.
NOPE. Not at ALL. No WONDER they have those damn videos.
Let’s just say, by the end of the evening, I quickly thanked GOD for the sense of humor only GOD has. To place me in a situation where I initially was dreading to quickly finding myself thanking each and every lucky star that I have SINGLE-itis. That I still have ample opportunities to connect-the-dots around town and find someone worthy of memorizing the “STORY OF US” the way it’s supposed to be. By heart.