Also, you may bring your spinster daughter, but please make her behave May 21, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Dating, Daydreams, Family, Single Girl Cliches, Weddings.58 comments
When I walked into my parents’ house on Sunday, I noticed the familiar handwritten calligraphy special enough only for a wedding invitation on two envelopes that were on the kitchen table.
“Oh, those are for that wedding next month,” my mom said.
There was one for my parents and one for my brother and his finance.
“Um, did I not get invited?” I asked, seeing as my name wasn’t on any of the envelopes.
“Oh, you were. Your sister must have your invitation.”
I was confused as to why my sister had my invitation, but I accepted this as fact. Later, I was in their office printing something on the computer when I found the other wedding invitation.
It was addressed to [Charming But Single’s Younger Sister] and [Charming But Single].
That’s right. I was sharing an invitation with my younger sister. Who is in high school.
And her name was listed first.
I know that I tend to be all “woe is me,” I am single some and/or most of the time. And I really don’t believe that I am a Sad Sack Singleton most of the time. And I don’t know what Emily Post would say about this or what the etiquette is for unmarried sisters, but COME ON. I don’t even rank my own invitation anymore? I’m an adult woman with a job and her own health insurance policy and 401(k), quickly flying toward 30, and I have to share a wedding invitation with my sister who is 17?
So frustrating.
I know wedding invitations are expensive. And technically, since I don’t have a significant other, so I can be invited alone, per the laws of etiquette. I’m probably getting all huffy over nothing, but little moments of mortification such as this are enough to make me feel like a Tragic Spinster locked away in her house, toiling away over her cross-stitching and pickling carrots and beets while talking to and playing poker with her imaginary boyfriend, Mr. Fern the Plant, the only man who always lets her win at cards and who gets only the best bottled water and fertilizer on their dinner dates.
My friends don’t introduce me to boys for a reason … May 20, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Dating, Friends, Life, Single Girl Cliches.22 comments
Ed. Note: This loses some inflection and context and tone when it is written out. Sorry.
“We have to talk,” I said.
Southern Belle had just finished giving me the tour of the newly built starter home she shares with her boyfriend and was fetching me a beer.
“We have to talk?” she asked.
“Yes, we have to talk.” I said. “Because I am in love with [Passport].”
“WHAT?”
“Ok, I shouldn’t have said in love,” I said, backtracking. “I’m not IN LOVE with him. But I very much think he is cool. And I like him a lot.”
“I’m working on a weekend for us to go see him,” she said. “Don’t you worry. We’re going to go see him and it is going to be great.”
“Good. Did he profess his love for me when I got out of the car last Saturday?”
She looked at me cautiously and set my beer before me.
“Well … not really.”
“Not really? Or no?” I asked.
“No. But he didn’t say anything negative! He said you were cool and that he really had a great time hanging out with you!”
“But no outright expression of love, devotion and me being the one?”
She gave me a pointed look, as if I was acting totally ridiculous. (Ok, fine, I was.)
“Dear, it was four in the morning.”
Famous Last Words May 17, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Dating, Daydreams, Friends, Life, Men, Single Girl Cliches.36 comments
Just days ago, I was bragging about how I wasn’t going to flip out if Passport didn’t call because I was just so happy that we seemed to be on the same page on Saturday night. I was feeling confident, cool and sexy. One glance at the little black dress still hanging on a hook in my bathroom and a smile spread across my face.
This lasted for maybe five minutes. Because, really, has patience ever been a virtue I possess?
And, it is somewhat predictable that I’ve spent the last week checking the phone for calls, thinking about why he hasn’t called, wondering if he intends to call, beginning conversations with various girlfriends about the probability of his calling and sending e-mails updating the same girlfriends on the fact that, no, he still has not called, which I know they appreciate getting while they are in important meetings focused on issues other than my love life.
The situation is tricky, my friends say, because of the long-distance factor. He can’t so much say, “Hey, meet me for a drink after work.” Because we live more than an hour away from each other. Not that we don’t have a multitude of excuses to get together – does one really need an excuse to go to New Orleans for a weekend? I certainly don’t. But there are mitigating circumstances. Would I stay at his place? Would be hang out the whole weekend? Would we meet up as a group with Southern Belle and her boyfriend?
And, most importantly, why hasn’t he called?
Southern Belle is not a big e-mailer. I rarely get one from her that is much longer than two lines. Most of them consist of “Wine Bar, 6 p.m.” or “Margaritas, 7 p.m.” And since she’s been in a relationship for four years with a man with whom she shares a mortgage, I’m fairly certain that she’s forgotten about excruciatingly long waits for information or acknowledgement. And because I don’t want to sound needy, I haven’t been pumping her for information for fear that she’ll say something silly to Passport, like, “[Charming] has asked about you 67 times, so call her. Please?”
Men, take note. Do not ask a woman’s good friend if said woman is single if you do not intend to call her. The friend is always going to share that you asked, so save us all the time and just, you know, call.
I’m trusting my instincts and pushing the voices of doubt away. That man liked me – and why shouldn’t he! – and I’ll soon be looking back at this uncertainty and giggle at myself.
Call it hopeless optimism, but I have a hunch. And that’s enough for at least a few more days.
Saturday: Primped and Ready to Flirt (Part 2) May 15, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Dating, Daydreams, Friends, Life, Men.43 comments
Ed note: It is long, but you’ll survive. Promise. See Part 1 if you haven’t already.
I gathered up my liquid courage and stood, balancing in the Nine West heels I bought years ago, which have served me well and are a testament to why $85 is not too much to spend on a pair of shoes you love, put my shoulders back and, as saucily as possible, headed over to where Southern Belle and SB’s Boyfriend were talking to a tall, dark-haired man.
It took a few minutes of hellos and smiling, but finally I was introduced to Passport, 29, who lives in New Orleans and has known SB’s Boyfriend since childhood. His accent was all kinds of crazy – not Big Easy at all, more of a hybrid of Americanized Australian or British, but very faint. He still used terms like “mates” instead of “friends,” as he had just returned from years and years of living abroad, bouncing from country to country. This was terribly endearing and I teased him about it all night long.
My initial far-away instincts were correct. He was very much my type – funny and smart and chatty and tall. I can safely say we hit if off immediately, talking about work and life and his travels and beers and the Hurricane. He sat on a low banquette and I perched on an ottoman across from him, so to keep my posture nice.
It’s been awhile since I really clicked with someone this way. We talked for most of the night and I feel only a little bit bad about abandoning Prom Date and others for this man I’d just met. I felt the need to talk to him, to pick his brain, to flirt shamelessly.
I was drinking white wine and when our Very Annoyed Cocktail Waitress came by (our group had taken over not only our reserved couches, but also another group of seats) I ordered another. He also ordered an Amstel Light. (We were at a wine bar and he’d lamented the lacking beer selection.)
“What’s the name for the tab?”
“I got it,” I said, motioning for her to put it on my tab before he could pay.
“That’s sweet, you didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“Consider it a Welcome Home beer,” I said, coyly. With a wink, no less.
He grinned and said he owed me one.
It is time I came out and said it. I was totally smitten with Passport after just a few minutes. His friendly smile, his warm laugh, his strong conversation skills. It was all too much for my cynical, scorned self to handle, so when he went to smoke with SB’s Boyfriend, I joined Church Group Girl and the others to swoon while I internally questioned his intentions – Did he have a girlfriend? Was he really into me or was he just without anyone else to talk to? Was I mere moments from another dating misjudgment and intense mortification? Was I hallucinating?
The bar was about to close when Southern Belle walked up and announced that the boys wanted to go to the only place (other than a diner) that stays open all night – the Casino. I was arguing with our Very Annoyed Cocktail Waitress about $24 in extra wine on my bill and I quickly dismissed the idea of joining them. I hate casinos, not because I have a moral opposition to gambling, but because if I’m engaging in risky financial behavior, a good purse is coming home with me. That’s just how I roll.
Southern Belle went outside to relay the news to the group – us girls were calling it a night, though they were free to go to the Casino without us.
“But wait, what about your friend?” Passport asked Southern Belle.
“My friend?”
“Yes, your friend [Charming]?”
“No, she’s not coming. She doesn’t like casinos,” Southern Belle said.
And then it happened.
“Well, she’s cool. Is she single?” Passport asked.
(A Brief Interruption: Y’all. These perfect moments of chemistry and connection are so few and far between for me. Most of the nights when I dress up and stumble around in heels with super straight hair and flawless make-up, I end up feeling like I should have stayed in bed in my PJs watching Saturday Night Live while plotting revenge against the World of Love for leaving me behind. And I am saying this now and I mean it – I don’t care what happens next. I don’t care if he’s actually a creep who rides train cars ‘round the country stealing people’s identities, and possibly their souls, or if he has fifty cats and lives with his mom or has really bad hygiene or is secretly married with 37 kids or is a member of a cult or ANYTHING LIKE THAT. The fact that for ONCE IN MY LIFE I correctly guessed – GUESSED! – that a man liked me back is enough to warm my heart for this one perfect moment. Which is so sad, but whatever. I never said I wasn’t.)
Southern Belle, because she is both awesome and a lawyer, decided that perhaps she had a key piece of evidence that would re-open a stalled negotiation. She quickly came to me inside and said, “Oh honey, we are going to the Casino.”
“I hate the casino. I was thinking Jack in the Box and bed,” I said.
“[Passport] really wants you to go.”
“What?”
“He asked if you were single.”
“Which casino are we going to again?” I asked. And then we giggled and I applied some lip gloss and headed out to flirt some more.
Several hours of Passport and I flirting over bottles of water and not gambling, it was time to go home. And as the group pulled up to the corner about a half block from where I’d parked on a one-way street, I said my goodbyes and went to step out onto the curb. Passport grabbed my hand.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, [Charming],” he said. “And I know I’ll be seeing you again.”
I smiled sweetly and agreed, turned away from the car and mouthed the word “Yes!” to no one in particular as I walked to my car.
I was halfway there when I heard him playfully yelling at me from the rolled-down car window.
“Hey there, hot stuff. Looking good,” he teased and I strutted in my heels feeling every bit as confident as I should always feel, regardless of what my hair looks like or which guy is flirting with me or how cute my little black dress is.
I waved as I opened my car door and sighed as I sat inside and started the engine.
“Oh, I am so having a million of his babies,” I gushed to no one in particular. Again.
Saturday: Primped and Ready to Flirt (Part 1) May 14, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Dating, Friends, Life, Men, Shopping.20 comments
After a particularly long week, I decided that Saturday would be a Day of Beauty and Relaxation. I was badly in need of a haircut, and eyebrow wax and a manicure and pedicure. Blocking off an afternoon for such frivolity and self-maintenance seemed like the perfect ending to a perfectly hectic week.
I started with the waxing of the eyebrows, as this is the least relaxing aspect of the afternoon, and followed with the chopping off of at least five or six inches from my long hair, which is still an inch or two longer than my shoulders. This freed me from miles of split ends and caused my new stylist to lecture me on proper split end prevention and me to purchase a pricey bottle of shampoo out of shame. I rounded out the day by getting my nails done in Chicago Get a Manicure! by OPI.
I’d informed my friends on Tuesday that I wasn’t getting all prettified for nothing and planned a night out on the town for Saturday, complete with a little black dress and some sexy sandals.
First stop was dinner with Married Couple, which was a blast because they are much fun. I was complaining about how women I know meet the nicest, most perfect men and I only seem to get the duds. They assured me that everyone felt like that until one day someone just fit and then you feel so silly about all of the worrying.
After dinner I joined a large group of friends, including Southern Belle and her boyfriend, Prom Date and some others, at a Wine Bar for drinks. I felt incredibly confident and was generally having a great time. So relaxed. So content.
One of my new girlfriends actually isn’t that new at all. We were in Church Youth Group together in high school. She went to a different school and was a year younger than I am, which are things that matter in high school, but not so much in adulthood. And then one day last year, I showed up at Southern Belle’s house and there was Church Group Girl, all grown up like me. We bonded over our Kathy Van Zeeland purses and similar styles and we’ve been hanging out off and on since.
I was taking pictures with her Blackberry and she said, “Oh! You’ll think this is funny. Look up your name in my cell phone.” I did and it said “[Charming] from Youth Group.” We were laughing at how ironic it was that we went from Youth Group to Drinking Buddies when I noticed just who was listed below me in her address book.
“How do you know [T]!” I gasped.
“Him? I work with him. He’s nice. How do you know him?”
“T? Nice?” I choked.
“Yeah, he seems nice.”
“Well, let me tell you, he is most certainly not nice. We have a … history,” I said.
“[Southern Belle!] Remember this guy?” I asked her.
“Oh yeah, he was a total jerk to you,” she said, joining our conversation for a few minutes.
“That sounds AWFUL,” Church Group Girl said. “I will never look at him the same way again.”
The two of us recounted our awful dating stories and our types.
“I need a tall, husky guy,” I said. “I am all about a guy with some meat on his bones. Someone who can cuddle.”
“Like that guy over there,” I said, nodding to a guy Southern Belle was talking to.
And I paused.
“That guy?” I said. “Who is that guy?”
“Oh, that’s her boyfriend’s friend from childhood, I think,” Church Group Girl said.
I paused again. I felt a devilish grin spread across my face.
“Excuse me … I think there’s someone I need to meet.”
