Shopping for One

Walking through the grocery store, you can tell I'm shopping for one by the items in my cart. Mine as well have a sign plastered across my forehead that said "single and ready to mingle." I continue to walk hastily down the aisle ohhhhing and ahhing at the latest wine bottles each sitting in their glass-box freezers, all laden with equally as pretty labels that feign expensive taste. "Two-for-one Special" signage really ruins the connoiseur aspect of my adventure. I'm not a wine-connoiser, nor do I pretend to be. I just need a cheap bottle of vintage grapes to get me through Sleepless in Seattle for the 112th time. Back to Twentysomething.

Sign number one that she's single- she's a) dressed in business casual feigning importance as to signal to everyone including the 18 year old stock boy in the cereal aisle that "Yes, I'm single, but I'm fine with that because I'm an important business woman." (Yeah right. I secretly spend what money I have left after paying rent and bills on a $20 slutty dress from Forever 21 hoping that this time, it might just get me a boyfriend.....oh, how naiive we (I) can be.

b) She's dressed in workout clothes, a dewey forhead, and enough endorphins to make her plastic smiles seem the effect of plastic surgery gone awry. Workout clothes suggest, "Hey, I'm an athletic, healthy girl who occasionally binges on low-fat graham crackers." Come and get 'em boys.

c) The items in my cart couldn't BE any more evidence than is needed. Even a blind two-year old could sense the desperation oozing from my "Lower in sugar Maple Brown Sugar oatmeal." Seriously, who eats that kind of shit, only single twentysomethings. I GUARANTEE you.

Just Plain Awkward

Is it better to be silent, or mutter incessant awkward phrases? I wish I could say that I'm the former, but being as it may, I hate awkward silences, now there's an oxymoron, so I choose to be the latter. That's right, I'm the queen of saying awkward things just to fill the space in a verbal continuum that exists among normal, non-anxiety ridden people.

Imagine this, you like a person, a lot. BUT, instead of being a normal single twentysomething ( I love spelling that out, like it's a club you have to sign up for). Okay, so instead of being a normal single twentysomething, you revert to being the awkard 6th grader that you were at the sock hop- yes, I said sock hop. Deal with it. I find myself saying stupid things and telling stupid stories to make everyone else around me laugh. The result? Stories that just make me look plain stupid, and just plain awkward.

Webster's dictionary categorizes awkward-ness as UNGAINLY and lacking GRACE. Well I laugh in the face of awkwardness, I'm naming my first daughter Grace, just so her name answers any lingering questions.

No Apologies