Maybe I Shouldn't Complain...

... You know, there are girls out there who've never been asked on a date. Believe it or not, there are girls out there-- my age!-- who've never been kissed! Sometimes I have to check my behavior, because I find myself complaining about some dating woes or other and then I realize just how bratty I sound-- especially when I'm complaining to someone who hasn't been on a "real" date in ages. And don't get me wrong-- I know I've got a kickin' life. Even socially. I recognize that I'm super fortunate to go out with some really nice boys from time to time. But sometimes, I have to laugh and laugh at the social scrapes I find myself in. Like last night, for example.
So you know how a woman is supposed to be at her most attractive mid-cycle? Sorry if that's too much information for you gents out there, but it's purely biological. At ovulation, you give off more pheromones or whatever. And maybe because of the magical birth control (hooray for nice skin!) I might not be ovulating. Who cares! Regardless, such knowledge has always given me a laugh, and a little feeling of empowerment. And when you've got 28 little pills lined up for you, it's easy to see when that ovulation would occur, which just so happens to be this weekend. So last night I had plenty of social plans, and couldn't help thinking, "Watch out, boys. You are powerless against my feminine wiles backed by Mother Nature." And maybe that was true, but it seems like my pheromones were only calling out to the ookiest chaps at the dance. It was terrible enough that I had to leave early.
So this is the scene: Awkward Mormon Young Single Adult Dance. I'd really thought this was going to be a good one, because the last few I've attended have been wonderful. But it was like all of Albuquerque's weirdest people had congregated at the Eubank Building. At one point, Sara the Church Nazi (not my nickname for her) yelled at everyone from onstage. I hate to say it, but I laughed. I also laughed when she and her new boyfriend slow-danced. She had her arms on his shoulders and his were around her waist, but they were still about a foot and a half apart. Good thing they both had long arms. Wouldn't want to actually be able to talk to the person you're dancing with, would ya? Anyway, they kept making people play these dancing games to encourage mingling, but I had very little desire to mingle with that crowd. First thing out of the chute, I had to dance with a certain boy I'll call Wallace, who'd picked up my cute little shoe out of a pile. He is tolerable, but mostly obnoxious. He and his brother, who I will call Grommet (I know, this is terrible-- I should be a little more considerate and not talk smack, but this is my blog, ok? This is where I vent!), just kind of loaf around all day, and when they're not loafing, they are making me queasy. At one point during the evening, I could see Boo Radley (a nice, probably harmless, but also perhaps crazy chap) headed my way to ask me to slow dance. I ran out the door, pretending I wanted water, and nearly straight into the arms of Grommet. FAIL! When Boo did ask me to dance later, I made up a lame excuse about needing to make a phone call. And when Stuart Little (what can I say-- the guy reminds me a bit of a rodent) came over to tell me how he'd been trying to get my phone number, I didn't make any bones. I just excused myself to go talk to some other people. With MB, I just ignored everything he said. Rude? Truly. But it's survival of the fittest, and all such stuff, so a girl has to do what a girl has to do.
And on the way home, I was a bit grumpy as well. Part of it was knowing I'd only get a few hours of sleep, with the contractor coming before the bum-crack of dawn to fix my front door, but part of it was a disgust with men in general--enough to launch me back into Sabbatical Mode. I griped to myself about their ingratitude, their issues. I'm still annoyed with the one who was good enough to tell me he needed space just after he couldn't see how I'd be of further use to him. I'm annoyed with the one who feels like he has to hide me. The ones who break their hollow promises are also on my poo list.
Not that there aren't plenty of men to love. There's my brother, for example. Heaven only knows what I'd do without him. Ben's working on a fence for me right now, and I'm pretty consistently amazed with his talents. I know Benny's got my back whether I need a blessing or protection, or just some heavy-lifting. Thank goodness he lives just a mile away, and that he feels like he owes me for taking care of his (sometimes devilish) daughter. But you can't marry your brother. A) This isn't Arkansas. B) Ew. No, Quadruple Ew.
Again, it's days like these when I'm glad I've grown into a capable woman. I painted furniture most of the day. It kept me distracted for a good 10 hours, until I came to feed my parents' dog and noticed another one of my besties is "in a relationship." Ugh. Facebook facilitates stalking, and I'm "friends" with all five of my special boys from last night. Hmm. I possibly need an internet sabbatical as well.