::06:27:08::

::: Single and Sober :::

I went to my friend’s engagement dinner/congratulatory party/death sentence on Friday and there wasn’t a bar. We toasted the soon to be bride and groom with sparkling apple cider. Boo.

Yes folks it’s gotten to the point in my life where if someone tells me their pregnant I can say, “congratulations!” instead of, “Oh sh*t, what are you going to do?” And when someone announces an engagement I have to show up and pretend to care. Well, deep down I do care. I’m really happy for my friend, but engagement parties and baby showers are not really my forte. I prefer something a little more erotic and captivating, with a bar.

There is nothing like a Friday night, mingling sober with other singles who ask you stupid questions like, “when are you getting married?” Well, you have to have something called a man to get married to first, genius.

Then I started to panic. Why am I single? Should I go to the Humane Society to start picking out my 20 cats now? (Naw, f*ck that, I hate cats). Could it be that I’m greedy klutz who has no idea what she wants? Eek! My disastrous dating past started flashing through my mind…

I remember this one time, when I used to date this one guy, (and this one time, at band camp) I was over at his house waiting for him to get off of work. On the coffee table there was a giant glass bowl of M&Ms. Instead of reaching and grabbing just a few M&Ms, my greedy ass went and grabbed the whole bowl. The glass crushed in my hand. (Stupid cheap bowl, grrr). M&Ms flew everywhere and my hand started squirting blood.

I called 911, but they wouldn’t give me any medical advice over the phone and it wasn’t serious enough to call an ambulance. So with blood running down my arm, I quickly picked up all the M&Ms and glass. When he came home about ten minutes later he had to help me get the circulation back into my hand, which had turned a nice shade of blue.

Another time I was dating this other guy (not at band camp) and right before he came over, fatty ate a whole package of red licorice. When he got there we got into this discussion of things we liked and disliked in the opposite sex. One of his vices was when girls threw up, it was a turn off to him. Needless to say, not too soon after that conversation, all that red licorice kicked in and I started projectile vomiting (uncontrollably) a funky red liquid all over him.

Oops my bad. :(

The first time I had sex with my ex, I had stuffed my bra with socks. Usually when I (would *ahem*) stuff my bra I’d do the quick pull out when nobody’s looking. Unfortunately that night I wasn’t quick enough and when he felt me up, he found my thick ass socks. (On the plus side he did end up wearing them to work the next day).

Dating sucks. So do engagement parties without alcohol. I don’t see what the big deal is about being single. I’m enjoying this thing called life people!

Written by: ~ Fresh Banana Puddin'