Monday, September 26, 2011

The End Game…

It’s no secret that I’ve been focusing on my singledom a lot recently.  I made the conscious decision over the weekend to focus my attention elsewhere.  Mainly on myself.  I had begun to scare myself a bit last week.  I was literally dreaming of an engagement ring.  I mean, come on Shanna, get it together sister! 

I like shiny things.  I like diamonds.  I digress. 

My point is, I was seriously losing my cool.  I had ventured into desperate territory and as Erin Foster aptly points out in the week’s Single Girl’s Guide, no one likes a desperate girl. 

I was missing the point.  Dating is supposed to be fun.  It’s about meeting different types of people, getting to know them, deciding they’re awful, and moving on.  I kid.  Sort of. 

I was behaving as though a man was the answer to all my problems.  As though meeting my Prince Charming would result in dinner parties with scintillating conversation and weekends in the Hamptons wearing all white.  I mean, a girl can dream, right?  A more accurate depiction of a relationship would be brunching with  my girls on Sunday so  my man can watch endless hours of football and occasional dinner parties where I almost give myself an ulcer from stressing over what to bake for dessert.  Now that seems hot, right?

My point is, if I want dinner parties with scintillating conversation I best throw one.  If I want to see a concert, I should go.  If I want to eat a pint of ice cream I should…call a friend to talk me out of it. 

I’m not broken; a half of a person waiting to find my other half.  I’m me.  Sometimes I wear leggings everyday for a week.  Sometimes I cry during commercials.  Sometimes I laugh uncontrollably at the worst possible moment.  Sometimes I bake overly complex desserts and force feed them to people within close proximity.  I’m human.  And single.  No big deal. 

See Mom, I’m fine. 

1 comment:

Danielle said...

Pretty sure I'm sending my mother the link to this post! Well said!