Single

My Saturday night started off very well. A good friend was in town, and to celebrate we popped open wine, marvelled at my shoes (pictures. soon. promise.) and discussed everything from The Hills, to Don Imus with equal passion. We laughed, we drank and I went out smelling of vanilla, glossed with my lipglass and doused in the "look at me, I'm bloody fantastic!" confidence that comes with a 4 drink minimum or a really good hair day.

We went to a lounge where the music was loud and the people were polished. There were camera shots and tequila shots. There were hugs to old friends and numbers exchanged to new ones. It started out being one of those nights where you hope you see everyone you ever knew because they would see you at your best- laughing, happy, surrounded by friends and wearing killer footwear.

An unfortunate circumstance found me having to state my relationship status repeatedly (or lack of relationship status to be more accurate). At first it was fine, I can throw in a joke about it, can say all the reasons I'm glad I'm not currently coupled like an animal on Noah's ark (the commitment! the chance of drama! the fact I would have to shave my legs on a regular basis!), but it didn't stop. I had to keep saying it over, and over and over again.

I'm single.

And the kicker? I'm not casually dating, not currently on the fence about a particular guy, not even secretly lusting after someone.

I'm just... single.

It was in that moment that I noticed everyone who wasn't single. I noticed the couples suctioned to each other- sweaty from dancing with hands interlaced. The ones smiling at the dancers antics knowing they would go home together and have something to talk about. The ones whispering secrets and stories no one else would ever hear.

Suddenly, I felt something that stirred my insides and left me shaken. A feeling that crept slowly up my throat and left a bad taste in my mouth. Suddenly, I felt being single wasn't fun.

There's the idea that singleness equals carefree road trips with red toes out the window. Of random sexual escapades that would make even Samantha blush. Of spur of the moment splurges, weeknight parties, drawers filled only with expensive knickers and complex nightgowns with strings and bows.

And sometimes being single is like that. It's lovely, and exciting and causes you to skip into your office or strut in the coffee shop. You feel independent and lovely and find yourself going on trips or applying for jobs you would have to think twice about if coupled.

And sometimes being single isn't like that. It's heartbreaking and lonely and causes watery eyes when you realize that when you wake from a bad dream, there's no one to tell. And you find yourself on a Saturday night wearing your best shoes, surrounded by too many people, feeling far too alone.

The Near-Miss First Kiss

I've been subbing grade two this week. There is one particular girl who has captured my heart in a way that something you love so much you almost hate can. She's a tattler, overly emotional, the first one to complain, the last one to help clean up. She's constantly chatting, is bossy, and talks at a volume so loud, I've considered buying the entire class earmuffs to save their little ears. In short, she's me- 17 years ago.

She screeched in with her hello's this morning and followed it up with ...

Girl: Miss V! Miss V! I got to tell you something. Really big news!

Me: Sounds exciting! What is this news? (For the record, the last 'news' she shared with me was that she recently touched the leg of a dead moose and it made her feel 'weird'. Don't ask for more details because trust me, neither of us has the time. Needless to say, I tried hard not to giggle..)

Girl: Well Miss V, I've been trying to get my first kiss for a while and I almost caught it!

Me: You almost caught a kiss?

Girl: Yes. I got Matthew on the floor of the bus before the bus driver started yelling. I'm going to get him today though and then I will have it.

Me: Did Matthew want you to kiss him?

Girl: I don't know, but I need to do it anyway because I've got to get my first kiss from someone and he's the best at Sparkle (a spelling game), so it's got to be him. Plus, I really like him a lot and I don't care who knows it.

(I put on my teacher hat and try to gently discourage a follow up to this near-miss first kiss when Matthew enters..)

Girl: Hey Matthew. I'm going to catch that kiss at recess. I just missed your lips, before but I'm going to get you still!

It's in this moment where I realize how different my little friend and I are. Though we are both loud, chatty and prone to hurt feelings, I would never have the nerve to try to catch a kiss from a guy. Chasing's just not my style. I suspect despite all the talks, warnings, and 'looks' from the teachers, she will get her kiss. And it will be great because she wanted it, she went for it, and she got it.

Her first kiss will be exactly how she wants it to be.

I can only cross my fingers for Matthew.

Stove tops

When I was little my mom would get upset because I would always put my hand near the stove. Despite her warnings, I would do it- because I could and it was MY hand (I was a charming child). Of course, I would get burned. Normally one burn is enough to teach a child, but I was not a normal girl. The fascination of a heat that warmed me before it hurt me would drawn me back again, and again. Eventually, I grew out of the fascination, just as one grows out of old clothes with faded logos or songs that have lost their meaning and my parents breathed a sigh of relief.

I find myself near a stove again. And I know what will happen before I touch it. It will hurt. This time it's not my family telling me to stay away, but my friends. My smart friends who know about particular stove top burns and how slow they are to heal. How slow I am to heal. And this time, I really want to listen and I know I should, but I find myself wanting to be warmed again even if it hurts. I find that their kind words and gentle warnings are the rock, paper, scissors but my foolish heart is the atomic bomb that beats them all.

I find that I'm six years old again.

It will hurt. More than before. Because it's not a stove anymore. And it's not my hand.

Note- Okay, so I just re-read this and realized it sounds like I'm getting initiated to join a gang of angry bikers with bad facial hair or have decided to give crystal meth a try. I assure you it's nothing that dramatic. I'm just... a sap.

3,000

I had a great post planned. It was going to be funny and discuss really loud grade 2 children and how they are learning about numbers in math.

However.

I can't write about it because I'm still freaking physically exhausted and emotionally bankrupt a tiny bit weepy from damn American Idol. It was the "Idol gives back" episode and I should have known to crack open a new box of kleenex when Ryan first appeared wearing his 'serious face'.

Let's recap...

Carrie Underwood singing "I'll stand by you", while taking African children to put flowers on a grave? Sob

Simon and Ryan watching 13 kids lay down on a dirt floor getting ready for bed? Sob

Being told that a baby that the camera crew picked up on the way to a clinic who had malaria (which is CURABLE, people) died before getting treatment? Sob

Every picture they showed of HIV orphans crying big fat alligator tears? Sob

Annie Lennox singing "Bridge over Troubled Water"? Sob

Because I'm working on not worrying, I decided the only way I would feel better about all of this is if I did something. So, I ordered another Gap t-shirt and another package of one bracelets. I've also decided that instead of buying 5 fat and glossy fashion magazines each month, I'll buy 2 (it's the same stuff in each one anyway), and donate the difference. It's not a lot, but it makes me feel better.

Upset that kids are dying from CURABLE disesases? Go here. As for a post about numbers, I will leave you with one I'm not soon to forget: according to Malaria No More, this CURABLE disease kills 3,000 children everyday. 3,000 doesn't sound like a lot until you start thinking of everyone you know. Do you know 3,000 people total? Imagine all of them gone tomorrow.

3,000 kids a DAY

And it's CURABLE.

I'm going to get off my soapbox now.

The 3's

Three Words/Phrases I Say Too Often
1. Seriously!
2. Imagine!
3. What the hell am I doing?

Three Addictions That Make me feel like I'm 14 years old
1. "The Hills". I. Cannot. Get. Enough.
2. Facebook
3. Harry Potter mania. New movie annnnd new book this summer? Screw December, I think July is going to feel a lot like Christmas!
4. Going to see J.T. in concert this August. (Because really, what's a better way to celebrate my 26th birthday?)

Three Quirks that make me feel like I'm 84 years old
1. I refer to my legs as my gams
2. I just bought a $63 tube of eye cream
3. I think most people listen to their music too loud

Three Things/People That make me swoon
1. Anyone who is a)male b)in possession of an accent c)single
2. Pretty new shoes. Especially ones on my feet.
3. Seeing other people in love. Since, the last time I was in love man had just invented the wheel and the consensus was that the world was flat. It's been a while, friends. But I love seeing other people in love. Especially old people. It's just so darn cute.

Three Recent Purchases That Made Me Happy (Because yes, I'm the girl who gets happy by material objects. It takes more than personal fulfillment and rainbows to get me to smile sometimes...)
1. New shoes (pink satin with a 3 inch heel. Peeptoe, with a bow. Cuter than a baby panda)
2. "On Beauty" by Zadie Smith. If I ever wrote ONE sentence similar to how she writes, I would die completely fulfilled.
3. Elizabeth Arden Mediterranean perfume. (I smell radiant. sensual. captivating. A modern expression of sparkling radiance.- Well, at least that's what the box says it will be like...)

Three words I commonly misspell
1. accidentally
2. Mediterranean
3. misspell

Three of my best Halloween costumes
1. A ninja turtle (we went as a group. I was the orange one...)
2. A paperbag princess
3. Ashley Olsen (Trout was Mary Kate)

Three things I do exceptionally well
1. write in fragment sentences
2. distract small children and get them away from open windows so they can finish their schoolwork
3. give speeches

Three things I do not do exceptionally well
1. time management
2. hold my tongue
3. hide my excitement

Three people I would love to be for a day
1. Zadie Smith
2. Karl Rove (I would love to see what his typical day is like. Does he really rub his hands together and laugh wickedly when he has an evil plan? I'm curious)
3. Jon Stewart (the man is hilarious)

Three people I would not want to be for a day
1. Ann Coulter (karma is going to get her and I don't want to be around for that)
2. Ann Coulter
3. Ann Coulter

Happy Wednesday!