Saturday, April 11, 2009

Where have all the good men gone?

Being a single mom basically means, I don't get out much.  When I do, it's usually last minute, when I reach my breaking point and just can't seem to keep going.  Some tell tale signs that I'm getting to this point, is when the house gets messy, the laundry stops getting washed and I can't find anything to eat in the kitchen (completely psychosomatic, that one).  Last night was one of those nights.  I just wanted to quit life.  Most of the time I get by pretty well and have little to complain about.   Then it will hit me like a brick wall and the thought of another day doing this by myself is to much to handle.  So Annie gets to have a sleep over with her Gigi and I go out.  I pretend I'm free.  I pretend I have money and the body I used to have before Annie (these two are a little harder to pull off).   
I drop Annie off at my mothers and begin to plan my night.  I don't tell my mother my plans because honestly, I' terrified of her disapproval and telling me that I can't.   Even this morning when she asked me what I did last night I said nothing.  Strange that at 28 I still feel like she controls my world and that her approval means everything. 
Because I am incapable of planing things more than 4 hours in advance and all my friends are married, I usually go out alone.  Which was the case last night.  After visiting with a friend for a few hours I headed to my final destination.  A very strange bar on Morganford, that I still don't understand.  It's clean, the colors are beige and blue and it just doesn't fit in, but a friend (more acquaintance really) plays there frequently and I love Love Love to hear them play.    I walk in and go to the bar for a beer.  A somewhat attractive man buys my beer for me, therefor requiring me to at least say hi and respond to some small chit chat before moving on.  Well, he was a talker, thankfully not a toucher, but very inquisitive.  If I've learned anything in the last five years of being a massage therapist it's DON'T tell people your a massage therapist at a bar, and avoid telling people you have a kid if your going to want more than one beer.  So over the year I have compiled a list of occupations that don't get men overly excited.  Teacher and Vet tech seem to be the best ones. Never ever say: Massage Therapist, Librarian, nurse or Flight Attendant.
So after about 10 minutes of talking I move away from my new beer buying friend.  He wasn't crude or mean or anything I just wasn't interested.   About half an hour later I see Mr. Beer go into the ladies room with one of the bartenders (female) and walk out two songs later, SO GROSS!  Thank you Lord for the sense you gave me!    Seeing this only makes me sad to the fact that if there actually are any good guys out there I'm most likely never going to meet them.  Unless they to decide to join my church where being single over 25 makes you the minority, because I never get out and when I do all I meet are creepy guys that either drink to much or go to ladies room with the bartender.    


Anonymous said...

I think you meant being single over 5 makes you a freak. Just saying...



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