Single Girls

I have never been very good with men. My first crush was Michael Fisher. He had blond hair and blue eyes to die for. He stuck pencils in his cheeks as a way of making fun of my dimples. Despite his obvious affections for me, he chose a girl named Mandy. She wore a training bra.

The first time I tried being coy was in the 10th grade. It was a drastic backfire. The summer before, I developed a crush on John Stevens. We swam together on the neighborhood team and he mowed our next-door neighbor's yard. As the summer neared an end, I created the 14-Day John Countdown. It was the number of days I had until school was back in session and I would not get to lounge in the hammock that hung over our property line and into the neighbors yard, pretending that I didn't see John there with his lawn mower, trying to mow the grass beneath me.

Surprisingly, my Countdown failed to woo John. So I took a more pedestrian approach: I called him on the phone and asked him to be my homecoming date. To my alarm, he agreed! So, after countless hours of dress shopping, one dress return (the off-the-shoulder velvet number actually showed off my goods during slow dance practice with my mom), and a pre-date on which I missed the entire premise of the film Sneakers because I was preoccupied trying to figure out if John's hand was on my arm or my breast (the answer was arm), the big day finally arrived. We danced, ate fettuccini alfredo, and held hands. He asked me if I believed in God and I don't remember giving him a straight answer. The night ended there.

Now, in classic novice high school dating style, we did not speak again until the spring when John needed a date to attend the spring dance at his hoity-toity all boys’ school. He told me (in retrospect, at the command of his mother), "You don't need to buy a new dress if you don't want. You could wear the one you wore to Homecoming." Here comes the failure to be coy . . . "Oh, really John? I don't need a new dress? I guess you liked that black dress, huh?" Alarmed by my charm, no doubt, John folded, "No, um, it's just that . . . you don't need to spend the money, that's all." Well, you can bet your prom date I bought a new dress. I traded in the black full skirted dress with the fabric rose on the hip for a red backless little number.

This is just the first of many fruitless efforts to charm a boy. All of that to say, it is not easy being single. And today, I salute my single gal pals. Today, one of my beauties admitted in her blog (www.hurricanic.wordpress.com) to toying around with the idea of Internet dating (my experiences here require an entire entry all to themselves).

While I think it is a fine idea, I am afraid few of my single pals would do themselves justice. They are so awesome and they just don't know it. So here is my shout out to 'em . . .

Kelly J. - you rock because you are honest and kind and hilarious. Because you took amazing pictures at my wedding (www.kellyjackson.com) and because you are a kick-ass artist all around!
Kelly F. - you light up my life with your honesty and your dedication to teaching bonehead middle school kids
Amy P. - your sassy Texan self has a heart of gold and sarcasm to balance it all out.
Amy G. - your a first class lady with a determination for the truth and kindness
Libby S. - who else can out-sass the rest of us while fixing a computer? Nobody, that's who.
Beth M. - she is one purty lady with a killer yoga bod and a whole batch of homecooked southern sayings
Jessica K. - this girl is sweet and sassy and smart and strong all at the same time. she also has a great ass. just ask her, she'll tell ya!
Michelle S. - a woman whose love of Christ and coffee are as unrefined as you can find.

So, to all of you incredible single women, I raise my disgusting pink martini -
"Here's to you, beautiful!"