Single Sinner

I’d like to preface this post with the fact that I am from Alabama. I am from a place where it is not uncommon to get married young, and by young, I mean 21. I currently have four friends who are married...I am 22.

I was at the dentist’s office last year, and he asked me “Have you met Mr.Right?” My mouth was wide open with some aluminum sticks in it, so I couldn’t respond. He went on to tell me about how his nephew had just married the most beautiful girl with a personality the sunshine envied (not kidding…he used that phrase).

When he took the tools out of my poor mouth, I responded, “No, but I have met Mr. Wrong, and I really liked him.” The look on my dentist’s face was indescribable.  He couldn’t tell whether to pity me and my misfortune or be appalled by my retort.

As he finished up my cavity-free mouth he said, “When you do meet Mr.Right, tell him he is lucky to be with one of the best smiles this dentist has ever seen.” (I think he tells all of his unlucky in love patients this.) I then left feeling mocked, wondering if I was going against Gd’s southern will by being the only single girl left in my graduating high school class. (This is only a slight exaggeration.)

I had forgotten all of this until yesterday, when my mother’s friend got on the phone with me and out of nowhere said, “Laurie, we’re real proud of you, and you’re going to meet someone real soon, honey.”

I know I have this blog that talks about my misfortunes, but did the government send out a PSA telling the world I am single and it’s a sin?  

I might be ahead of my time with this comment, but I think my fellow ladies should focus on their careers and becoming themselves before bringing someone else into the picture. I am a mess! I freak out deciding between the apple yogurt or the mango yogurt in the store, let alone deciding if I want to spend my unforeseeable future with someone who doesn’t put down the toilet seat or wash his hands.

Someone needs to speak to those Baby Boomers and tell them people are getting married later in life now.

 To quote one of my favorite poets, “That’s how it’s supposed to be, living young and wild and free.” (Holla, Wiz!) These are my thoughts on my search for my NJB. (These thoughts are subject to change because as stated previously, I’m 22 and a girl. Changing our minds is kind of my age group’s thing.)

Subway Boy

“You find the one in the most random and unexpected places.”

This is the lie I have been told since I remember asking how my parents met.  (My parents met while they were on dates with other people, so we will let them be the exception.) My sister met her husband on JDate where you are paying to meet people. My friend met her husband in a youth group where you meet people. My other friend met her boyfriend through a mutual friend, and it was a setup. The point is: it’s not random. It’s not unexpected. You don’t find them in unlikely places. You find them the way everyone else does: on a website, through a friend, at a party, at a bar (my parents were at a bar…trashy.).

So, let me ask you this. Is it that insane that I met my one on the subway? I see three of the same people almost every day on the subway. One boy who always looks like he stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue, one girl with possibly the prettiest orange curls in the world but sports a scowl because I’m guessing she is awake, and finally, I see my “one.” He is tall, dark, and Gd I hope he’s Jewish!

Let me tell you more about our relationship. We see each other about three to four times a week. We get on the same subway cart, and we are usually in close proximity. He reads twitter on his phone, I rock out to “Good Vibrations” given the subway vibrates. This was all I really knew about him until this week. He finally noticed me! He looked at me and smiled. And now I can add the most beautiful smile in the entire world to his list of wonderful attributes. 

You think I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But that’s why people call it crazy in love! (I clearly know I am not in love, but I am allowed to have a crush.) I go to the subway every single day. I am bound to meet at least one person down there, and who says it can’t be my one? Not so random, my friends, is it?

Now that I have fallen curls over boots for this boy, I gotta figure out my first move. I can’t just say “Hi” in a crowded subway full of silent people. If I say something there needs to be a purpose behind it.  So I am putting this out to my readers, whoever you are. Do you have any ideas of how I can snag this crush on my morning route and my search for my NJB?

I'm Bored

I don’t like museums. I never have. I never will. I think they are boring unless I am able to do something interactive in them (I do like the Boston Museum of Science). When people want to go to museums, I prefer art museums. I don’t like art, but I like to make fun of the people who think a canvas painted blue actually means something. (If a blue canvas is art, my painted block art I created at 3 was much more valuable that the $25 my dad paid for it at the school auction.)

When JDate #1 suggested we go to the Museum of Natural History for our first date, I was already dreading it. I told him I really liked the MoMA. His response? “That’s cool, too. Let’s go to the Museum of Natural History.”

As soon as I got there, I realized two things. One, he lied about his height. Two, this was going to be a hilarious story for my blog. While we stood in the ticket line, he barely spoke to me. I kept the conversation alive because I figured he was nervous. I suggested we use our recently expired student IDs to get a discount. The suggested ticket price fell to $29 total. The ticket master asked what donation amount my date would like to pay, and he responded $20. (I felt horrible! I wanted to donate the remaining $9. I don’t like museums, but you shouldn’t skimp at them.) He then turned to me and said, “I like museums because it’s always a suggested price, and you don’t have to pay all of it.”

Uhhhh, he didn’t have to call attention to being cheap on our first date. I already noticed and was not planning on saying anything. He went on about it for at least five minutes. (I don’t need to know your financial stability on the first date! Just take me some place that’s free like the park. I’d like it more than looking at stuffed animals.) 

We were off to a tainted start, and I was convinced I could turn this 18-wheeler back on track. Trying to make the best of an educational date, I decided to read about the different fossils and dinosaurs.  As I read out loud about one, he leaned up against the railing and stared at me. (I have never been a drop dead gorgeous girl, so this was a new and uncomfortable experience for me.) This continued at the next three fossils until I finally asked him to stop looking at me. (Why would you stare at someone who you are on a date with? It’s not a bar. It’s a museum!)

The date continued down the same path. He answered questions with simple short sentences and only asked topical questions such as, “Do you have siblings?” “Yes” without any sort of follow up. I tried telling stories about my life so he would do the same, but there was nothing that would make him speak about anything besides how he is trying to become more religious (I’m not, so that’s also a problem).

What I gathered from our conversation was he is a momma’s boy (don’t admit that to a girl), he has never lived away from home or supported himself in any form, he thinks lawyers are awful (my dad’s a lawyer…that’s awkward) and he wants to be a police officer so he can stop people from shoplifting (someone’s gotta do it, but my NJB probably won’t be the one doing so).

Finally, I had sped our way through the museum in two hours and I could see the light at the end of the exit. I was so close! He asked to go get lunch with me. I made up an excuse. He asked me to get dessert. (If I wasn’t hungry, I don’t want ice cream!) I felt too guilty not to say yes. Half way through my ice cream, I made a comment about needing to get home. He protested, and walked me to the bus that was out of his way. (There was no getting rid of him.)

At the very end he asked me for my number. I gave it to him, but he repeated it back to me wrong. I didn’t correct him. I should really text that person and thank him for helping me on my search for my NJB. 

P.S. Did anyone else get that he wasn’t willing to pay full price for tickets, but wanted to pay for my meal?