For Leighann...

I wrote this in grad school. It's the first thing I wrote just for myself, really. I stayed up until 6 a.m. reading Laurie Notaro's The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club: True Tales from a Magnificent and Clumsy Life. I think there was also some beer and ice cream involved. Leighann occasionally asks me for it, and I recently dug it up on a routine check of my computer's documents. My, how things have changed...
As a disclaimer, I don't drink nearly as much as I did then. As another disclaimer, I swear much more than I did back then. And despite Husband's wishes, I am not planning on stopping any time soon.

“It shouldn’t be weird with your boyfriend, should it?” my friend asked me. The word kept echoing in my head. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. Scotty, my partner in singleness and cynicism since we were 15 had a BOYFRIEND. She was now one of them. Not that I wasn’t happy for her. I was just a little surprised. And as I was lying in bed last night trying to fall asleep, I got to thinking. Now it’s just me and my friend Leighann. Everyone else has paired off. Every few months (or in this case, weeks) I get the news that another one of my high school or college friends has met someone, started dating someone, or is engaged. So now I am simply trying to survive as one of the remaining single gals. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross developed her phases of bereavement-denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I’ve designed my own personal stages of dealing with the pressures of being one of the dwindling few single girls left in the world.

Stage One: Involves listening to your friend for hours on end as she tells you EVERY minute detail of how she and her current man got together. When one friend finally got together with her boyfriend after nine months of talking and dancing around their feelings for each other, I listened to her story three times, as she told me, then her sister, and then a mutual friend. Now talking about boys is one of the most natural parts of being a girl, and I don’t mean to come across as bitter at this point. The vast majority of my friends have sat and listened to me talk for hours, analyzed and cried with me about boys I’ve liked, boys I’ve dated, and boys who have broken my heart. And being told, especially if you’re one of the first ones told is such a privilege, and being told is so much better than finding out weeks or months later. Generally these conversations conclude with “I’ve got to go-I’m so sorry I’ve talked about Boy the entire time. I’ll let you talk next time.” This is the point at which you assure your friend for the 400^th time that you are so excited, so happy, and can’t wait to hear more/meet Boy. It works best if you actually mean it.

Stage Two: Analysis. If this new found relationship of your friend’s has been a long time coming, then you don’t really need to analyze much. If, however, your friend’s change seems to have come out of nowhere, then you must sit around and analyze the conversation and wonder how all of this could happen WITHOUT YOUR KNOWLEDGE. I prefer to analyze these situations with another friend and/or a six-pack.

Stage Three: The longest and most drawn out stage, consisting of various subphases. Also known as Bridget Jones Mode, this stage occurs in phases, such as moping, dieting, drinking and commiserating, and fishing.

Moping generally occurs alone, although occasionally it can occur with another single gal. For me, I usually tend to put on sad music, sit in my bed, drink my emergency beer, and think about how I am the only single person left in the entire universe. I remember that my younger sister has been dating Randy From Queens for TWO YEARS. I reach for the beer. I think about how nobody is EVER going to want to date me, and then I start to wonder why. Why have I never had a relationship last more than two months. Why was my last quasi relationship three years ago? Why don’t boys like me? What’s wrong with me? I reach for the beer. I start to think about my assets. I think I’m somewhat cute; at least I don’t have hair spewing out of my face or a unibrow. Okay, so my hair is frighteningly scary, and my waistline is definitely not where anyone would want it to be, but it could be worse. I’m not missing toes or teeth; I like to wear hats, and I wear shirts that enhance my boobs. Boys like boobs, right? I’m smart, kind of. I got into two graduate schools and managed to get through college with decent grades. Okay, so I don’t have the best conversational skills when I first meet people, or after I meet people, I’m freakishly shy, and I’m prone to say the STUPIDEST things upon first getting to know someone and even after I get to know them. But I could be a lot worse. Right? I reach for the beer.

Onto dieting. By dieting, I don’t mean eating baby carrots and salad and no carbs. No, I mean real dieting. The Gracie Single Girl Diet consists of M&M’s, Tostidos, soda, Ben and Jerry’s, and pasta (and other starches). Basically anything that’s bad for me. Ice Cream for breakfast (at noon, cause you’ve either slept until then or else have been so busy that you haven’t had time to eat), some sort of bad for you soup or sandwich for lunch (between 4 and 6 pm cause that’s when you’ve come home from work/class), and pasta from a box for dinner anytime between 8 and 11 pm while watching Will and Grace, ER, Joe Millionaire, the evening news or reruns of Raymond. For a simple snack during the day, eat M&M’s or Tostidos. I also recommend KC Masterpiece Bar-B-Q chips. It is also important to keep in mind that it is completely appropriate to eat only one or two meals a day. For example, today I got up at 11, after falling asleep at 6, ate a cupcake and some Tostidos around 3, and then at 6:30 made some Potato Buds. I topped it off with a bit of ice cream from the carton around 8:45. Now is not an appropriate time to look through this month’s Glamour, Cosmo, or Self, as it could easily send you back to Moping.

The next phases, Commiserating and Drinking MUST go together. I am not talking about a simple emergency beer (or 6); I am talking about wine, Sangria, Cosmopolitans, hard cider, etc. Commiserating and Drinking can take place either at someone’s apartment or else out. The benefits of staying in: it’s cheap. Two or three $8 bottles of wine, and you’re set. This is also good for underage people who could very well get in a lot of trouble if they are caught drinking in public. The downside to staying in is that you could very well get that drunken restlessness where you feel like you have to go out and do something. This could lead to something incredibly stupid like standing on the corner of 87^th and Amsterdam yelling “Why don’t boys like me?” to every couple that passes by. But generally when you are commiserating with your girl friends, you are each other’s entertainment. Going out is also a good option. Generally bars, cafes, or restaurants that are fairly quiet and smoke free are good for commiserating. The downside to going out is that if you’re drinking cocktails or ciders, it can get pretty expensive. The upside is that you can sit for hours, watching as the waiter/bartender gets more and more attractive and charming, and convincing yourself that he thinks you and your friends are the hottest things he’s seen all night. Even if all he says is “Another round, ladies?” Out is also nice simply because it gets you out of the house. Out of the house is good, especially if you’ve been in yoga pants and a sweatshirt for the last two days.

Now that we’ve established location, we must discuss company. Who you commiserate with is crucial. As much as you love your coupled girlfriends, when it gets harder to fake that you’re blissful as an unattached gal they simply won’t do. You’ll hear clichés such as “I know he’s out there; you just have to be patient” or “I never thought it would happen for me either” or my personal favorite “Being single is a gift from God.” My friend Scotty always asks if the gift is returnable. No, on nights like these, you need to be with someone in a similar situation. If you go out with one of your coupled friends, you will want to drill a hole through your big toe by the time you finish your first glass. You will start thinking bad thoughts about your coupled friend and wish that you were at home, in your yoga pants and sweatshirt drinking beer and watching Sex and the City or Bridget Jones and quickly regressing back to Moping. For the last year and a half, Leighann has been my most reliable friend in this area, partially because we are the only ones in our circle who have not dated in awhile. A typical evening usually starts with us drinking sangria, wine, or Cosmopolitans, catching up on whatever crisis has befallen each of us that week. After each glass, we reassess how much drunker we need to be. Depending on our status, we either continue drinking, finding ourselves more and more entertaining with each drink. Swearing also increases. This is the essential time to begin commiserating. We start by making fun of or bitching about people in long term relationships, making passive aggressive comments like “Well, I wouldn’t want to be with someone who wouldn’t let me drink” or “I’d really hate to have to go home and hang out with Boy” or “At least I don’t have to put up with all the bullshit that goes into relationships.” We then start to discuss our last relationships, or the boys who didn’t like us back. We discuss what went wrong in previous relationships, why boys didn’t like us back, and why it’s completely their fault that they didn’t realize the wonderfulness that is Gracie or Leighann. We say things like “Boy was a fucking jackass. And what the fuck was his problem with drinking excessively?” or “Boy was so great. I was so perfect for him. What the fuck was his problem?” or “Fuck him. I don’t need him. If I were with him, I wouldn’t be able to be here, in fucking New York City.” At this point, we generally know it is time to go home and pass out. The walk home sobers us up enough to find the apartment and keep us from peeing on the street or subway, but not so much that we can’t complete the final part of the stage: The Drunk Call. Now being as how Leighann and I both live in New York, Caroline is usually the one who reaps the benefits of the Drunk Call. Caroline is truly a saint. Drunk Calling Caroline begins with me telling her how much I love her, repeatedly, and if my insecurities come out, asking if she loves me, is she really my friend, etc. Then Leighann gets on the phone and chats, only it sounds a little more sane coming from her, then we discuss her current relationship. I use the word discuss very loosely. Apparently on Valentine’s Day, when we talked to Caroline, we said to her repeatedly, in sing-song voices “Do you love him? Are you going to marry him? We think you should marry him.” (Update from the future: she did). Eventually, after trying for awhile to get us (or maybe just me?) off the phone, Caroline makes some excuse, like church the next morning, and we hang up. Leighann and I, still thinking we’re the world’s funniest people are able to pass out.
The final part of Stage 3, Fishing, is only effective when it occurs in sobriety. While on the phone or Instant Messenger with a friend, preferably a guy, sound a little down, even if you’re feeling better after a night of commiserating and drinking with your girlfriends. Throw in “nothing’s wrong” or “it’s fine” until they think they are dragging some big issue out of you. Just casually mention that you’ve been feeling a little bummed, lonely, or insecure lately and feel like there’s something completely repellant about yourself. I mean, all of your friends are dating, engaged, or married. But it’s totally fine. At this point, your friend will start to reassure you that you are pretty, you are smart, and some guy would be lucky to have you. At worst, you’ve made someone do exactly what you’ve wanted him to do. At best, you’ve been reassured that you do have worth, that you are attractive, and that someone is going to want you someday. Fishing primes you for the final stage.

Stage Four: Acceptance. The majority of the time, you are going to be in this stage anyway, but it becomes part of the process after a hard week at work or school. This is the part where you think mostly happy thoughts about your coupled friends (except the completely repulsive ones) and are completely happy in your stage in life. You are beautiful, smart, and living your life as a confident single woman. You are too busy and consumed with finishing school, starting a career, finding a church, and strengthening your relationship with God to devote the time and energy that comes with a boy. They really are time consuming, and right now, I’d much rather have a good time with my girlfriends.