It’s an interesting plan. Gone are the hypothetical situations where a super-hot guy in horn-rimmed glasses, with a great head of hair, a fantastic sense of humor, and Peyton Manning’s work ethic, walks up to me at a bar and declares I am the one he has been looking for and he can’t live another moment without me, he then drops down to one knee, opens a red leather box exposing a nearly flawless, 4-carat ,emerald cut diamond ring. They have been replaced with a simpler plea, “What about him?” pointing to the nearest guy who isn’t already talking to a woman.
I never said it was a good plan.
We were all out Friday night, and it got to that point in the evening where everyone had just enough alcohol in them to start trolling the bar for bedfellows. Or at least that is how it went in the good ol’ days. Now, I was the lone single ranger, and the only guy I would have even maybe considered making out with was gone, and I wasn’t even sure when he left which indicates to you just how interested I was in him.
Still, the Duchess, the leader of the declining rebel forces, wasn’t going to let dick o’clock pass without pointing out the several men within arm’s reach whom she thought I should be talking to. The conversations went a lot like this:
“Tati, what about that guy.”
Eye roll. “What guy?”
“That guy, there, in the blue fleece.”
Without looking. “He’s wearing a fleece.”
I look over. “He’s short.”
“He’s not. He’s your height.”
“For the last time, that’s short.”
“He’s funny and has a good job.”
“He doesn’t live in the city.”
“He has a car.”
“Because he doesn’t live in the city.”
“But he’s single.”
Oh, well, then, it’s on like Donkey Kong. Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Let me just adjust my cleavage.
Now, if it sounds like I am being picky it’s because I am. It took a lot for me to get here – this happy place where I realized that I have a lot going on for myself. Those of you that have been reading this blog know there were some tortured moments as I tried to find happiness with someone. I realized along the way that even if I found the perfect guy referenced above, it would still require some compromise on my part to fit him into my life. So if I am going to have to give up even a part of my awesome, happy life, he is going to have to be worth it – that’s just basic economics; it’s called opportunity costs.
So, Number Five is going to have to have a lot going for him. Certainly more than just being single.