SAA Ep. #69: I Can Has Normal Experience?

You know what I want?  Do you want to know what I want?  I mean, do you really, really want to know what it is that I want?  I'd better tell you what it is that I want before I bust into a Spice Girls' song.  Do you know what I want?  I mean besides a book contract...and a cookie that actually burns calories...and a brand new car that runs on laughter...and a million dollars...and the ability to fly...and a handsome husband with mad guitar skillz and an Australian and/or Scottish accent.  ...and a kitty....

I want to be able to run a simple errand like a normal person and have a normal experience.

That's all I want.

I mean, you'd think that awkward social experiences just naturally come with the territory when one has the alter-ego of "Socially Awkward Girl," but it's not like I go out looking for awkward social encounters.  Sometimes I experience awkwardness because I'm awkward, and sometimes it seems that awkward experiences just find me.

For instance, I had two socially awkward encounters the other day.  Both were while I was shopping for groceries, and as you might have read, shopping produces all sorts of opportunities for social awkwardness.  At least it does for me. 

The first awkward encounter was while shopping at an Aldi grocery store.   I've never shopped at this store before, but luckily, a friend had told me about the stores before I ventured out on my own.  Aldis are different because 1) you have to pay a quarter to use the shopping carts, which you are supposed to be able to get back after you return the cart, and 2) you have to bring your own shopping bag or purchase bags at the store.  I got in the store just fine.  I figured out how to put the quarter in the cart; I shopped; I paid for my groceries.  Aldi provides a little grocery bagging area so shoppers can bag their own groceries.  So I bagged my groceries and left the store. 

Then came the time to figure out how to get my quarter back.

I couldn't figure it out.  There seemed no logical way to make my quarter come back.  I asked a couple who were putting their groceries in their trunk.  They said, "Stick the little metal thing in the slot."  Okay.  So I go back to the carts, but I can't figure out which slot they were talking about.  I asked another woman who came up to get a cart.  She had no idea because it was her first Aldi experience, too.  Finally, this 10 year old kid saw that I was having trouble, and he came up and got my quarter back for me, all the while looking at me like I was the biggest moron in the world.  By that time, I was so embarrassed I kind of wish I'd just let the cart keep my quarter. 

That experience came about because 1) I'm socially awkward, 2) I was faced with a new experience, 3) I freak out easily when confronted with new experiences, and 4) I wasn't smart enough to have just run away and accepted the fact that I was never going to see that 25 cents again. 

The socially awkward encounter?  My fault.  Well, it was a little bit the shopping cart's fault for being confusing, but mostly, it was my fault.

The second awkward encounter?  I was shopping at Walmart, my home away from home, the place where I am so comfortable that people often confuse me for an employee.  I made my way to the candy aisle, which is a pretty hopping place.  It was so busy that I had to pull my (free and uncomplicated) shopping cart off to the side and wait for my turn to enter the glorious aisle of sugary confections.  I was talking to my mom on the phone, because for some odd reason I always have to call my mom while I'm at Walmart.  As I was chattering to my mom about my traumatic experience with the Aldi shopping cart, this old guy came up to my cart and tossed in a couple packs of candy bars.  Then he walked away.

In the next 0.5 seconds, several thoughts crossed my mind:
1) That guy didn't see me.  That guy totally thought this was just an empty cart where he could discard the stuff he didn't want!  Dude.  I'm invisible!
2) That guy is probably a secret agent.  He just tossed "chocolate" into my cart, thinking I was his connection.  Maybe his informant told him to look for a lady talking into her cell phone speaking the code phrase, "The shopping cart ate my quarter," and so he mistook me for who he was really supposed to meet.  Whoa.  I feel like Mater in Cars 2.  Whatever you do, do not eat the free pistachio ice cream....
3) By tossing chocolate into my cart, was the old guy telling me I look too skinny?  Maybe if I hadn't been on the phone, he might have shouted something like, "Eat some chocolate, you hippy!"
4) Was that guy trying to give me chocolate because he thinks I'm cute?  That's a little sketch.  He's probably old enough to be my grandfather.  Maybe he's confused and thought I was his granddaughter.  Maybe he's confused and thought I was his wife.  Maybe I should figure out if he needs a ride back to the nursing home.

It turns out, that last thought was closest to the truth, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

It took 0.5 seconds for those thoughts to go through my head, but all I managed to say was, "Um...Mom...uh..." and by that time, the old man was back.  He snatched the chocolate out of my cart and said, "Those aren't for you!"

I laughed and said, "So, Mom, this old guy was either really confused, or he was really trying to mess with me."  Another lady overheard and said, "No, his wife had been standing there a few minutes ago, he wasn't paying attention, and he thought you were her." 

Honest mistake, right?  No harm done, right?

Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I can't even buy white Tic Tacs without being bombarded with awkwardness.  In America, land of the free, you'd think a person could buy white Tic Tacs without having to deal with social awkwardness.  Right?  RIGHT?  Sigh.  Even when I'm minding my own business, doing absolutely nothing to create awkwardness, it still seems to find me.

Here's what I'm talking about:

Tonight, when the dad of the girls I watch got home, the first words out of his mouth were, "Ruth, have you seen your car?!?" 

Again, in 0.5 seconds, several thoughts went through my head:
1) A large monkey has taken residence in my automobile's hood.
2) Someone has painted my car orange for no apparent reason.
3) The bumper fell off
4) The door fell off.
5) It 'sploded.
6) It's flying.
7) It's dirty.
8) GASP!  It's clean!?!
9) It's invisible.
10) It turned into a piece of cheese and is being eaten by an R.O.U.S.

Well, as it turns out, what had actually happened was that I had a flat tire.  A flat tire that I had just gotten brand new 2 weeks prior. 

The dad helped me inflate my tire (I keep an air pump in my trunk--because tires and I aren't good happy friends), and I drove it straight to the place where I purchased my tire--and a warranty plan for said tire.

There were no problems with that.  I'd run over a screw at some point (or so they say--I suspect monkies and/or R.O.U.S.es are involved), and it was covered under warranty.  I paid nothing.  The catch?  I had to wait 2 hours to figure this out because the tire place was busy.  So I waited in the waiting area, which was occupied with several out-of-date magazines, a pot of coffee that might have been fresh three weeks ago, a too-loud tv blasting news that no one really cared about, and a dude that I'm going to refer to as...Dude.

So Dude was sitting a few chairs away, minding his own business.  I was minding my own business, too.  I had on my "spinster sweater," was reading my "don't talk to me" book, and wearing my best "I'm antisocial, leave me alone" facial expression.  Dude and I went a good 45 minutes without talking to one another, and that was fine with me.

Then, without any warning, Dude made contact.  "Excuse me?"

I looked up, not bothering to take off my "I'm antisocial, leave me alone" face.

"D'yalasusse?" he said.  Or that's what it sounded like.  I thought he was asking me if I had a tissue, but I wanted to make sure before handing him a pack of tissues.  I always come prepared.  I am a super-hero, after all.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you like sushi?" he asked, enunciating for the hard-of-hearing and/or slow-of-understanding.  I think I might fit both categories.

But I'm especially slow at understanding.  "I like California rolls," I said with a shrug.

"You wanna go get some sushi?" Dude said, raising an eyebrow.

I blinked.  You see, I'm about as oblivious as they get.  I didn't understand what he was asking me.  "Sushi?"

So Dude clarified.  "Do you want to go get some sushi with me?"

Oh. 

First, it's the married guy at the Walmart bakery, then it's Dude from the tire store.  I've been hit on by strangers twice in two months (three times if you count the old guy mistaking me for his wife and trying to give me chocolate...but let's not count him).  This kind of thing can only happen to me, and I'm the person who's probably the least emotionally/mentally equipped to handle it.  Lovely.

In 0.5 seconds, I narrowed down my options.  Fortunately, there were only two:
To eat raw fish with stranger Dude or not to eat raw fish with stranger Dude.  That is the question.

Dude had neither a Scottish nor an Australian accent, and while I am blissfully ignorant to whether or not he possesses mad guitar skillz, I quickly decided against eating raw fish with him.

"Um..." I began, panicking.  Then I did what any socially awkward super hero would do in such a situation. 

"No," I said quickly,  "But I appreciate the offer."  And I literally hid behind my book.  Only now I wasn't wearing my "I'm antisocial, leave me alone" face.  I was wearing my, "For the love of that chubby Michelin Man, would they please get done with Dude's tire issue so we won't have to sit in awkward post-I-shot-him-down silence anymore" face.

The tire gods read my facial expression with mercy and haste.  Dude left about ten minutes after our encounter, leaving me to ponder why why WHY CAN'T I HAVE A NORMAL EXPERIENCE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING?

Because I'm Socially Awkward Girl.

That's why.

And I think my "I'm antisocial, leave me alone face" is broked.  I need to start wearing a fake wedding band again.

Embarrassing Confession #6: Sharing the Awkwardness

As a socially awkward superhero, I have become quite comfortable with my social awkwardness.  When other people shy away from awkward situations, I often invite them with open arms. 

For instance, I know several women who hate buying, um, shall we say "feminine products" because they don't want the whole world to know that they have basic biological functions.

What do I do?

Whenever I have to buy "feminine products," I purposely look for the youngest male cashier I can find and go to his checkout line.  It's fun to watch him squirm.

...hmm...this could be one of the reasons I'm still single.

Public Service Announcement: How to Stay Single in Ten Easy Steps

Meet Ruth.

Ruth is single.

How has a gorgeous, talented, and smart (not to mention, humble) young woman like Ruth remained single for all these years?

Hmmm....that's a mystery...

Ah, Ruth has remained single because she has learned the secrets--

The secrets to staying single!

She's going to share these secrets with you...in TEN EASY STEPS!

STEP ONE: Work as much as humanly possible.

Working three or more jobs makes it nearly impossible to have a social or dating life. If you find that you're working all the time and STILL have time for dating, try writing a novel. That will take away every last iota of your free time, making it impossible for you to find time for dating. For added singleness insurance, try working with kids. That way, you get that haggard, unattractive "my kids are driving me crazy" look without actually being a parent.

STEP TWO: Wear a ring that looks suspiciously like a wedding band near (or even on) your left ring finger.

Whether it's a "Purity Ring" or just some weird LOTR obsession, wearing a wedding-band-ish ring will confuse people enough to virtually guarantee your continual singleness. Also, biting your nails and having horrendously dry skin probably helps, too. No one wants to hold THAT unmanicured monstrosity!

STEP THREE: Surround yourself with children so that everyone, including single men/women, will assume you're a mommy/daddy.

(I don't have a cutesy pic for this step because I'm NOT a mommy and don't feel comfortable posting any of the MANY pictures I have of me with someone else's kids.)

If you want to appear as unattractive as possible to all eligible suitors, make sure you always have kids with you. If you aren't a child care provider by trade or don't have any kids to borrow, go rent some kids. There are kid rental places now, right?

And always make sure your facebook profile pic is of you and a kid that looks exactly like you.

STEP FOUR: Don't have mad cooking skills.

A lack of mad cooking skills makes you less desirable. 'Nuff said.

STEP FIVE: Have an imaginary boyfriend/girlfriend.

Whether you're the Captain Jack Sparrow type, the Edward Cullen type, or I don't know...whatever fictional female the boys are into these days... having a fictional significant other makes real potential significant others shy away. I mean, most eligible men and women know that they can't compete with the fictional perfection of a fictional person, so they just give up. And you remain single.

STEP SIX: Be a Grammar Nazi!

Because EVERYONE loves a Grammar Nazi...right? Right? Oh.

STEP SEVEN: Make friends with creatures that usually only exist in fantasy.

People will think you're crazy. Crazy people don't get dates as often as sane people, or so I have heard. I wouldn't know. I've never been sane.

STEP EIGHT: Do weird stuff in public for no apparent reason.

While some people actually appreciate weirdness in other people, it's probably not the best way to make a first impression on any single people who might be watching.

STEP NINE: Actually WANT to get married.

In my experience, nothing scares a single guy more than a woman who wants to get married. So just want to get married, and you'll scare away every single guy within a 100 mile radius.

STEP TEN: Be a socially awkward super hero.

Meh. Works for me.

Embarrablast from the Past Ep. # 8: Public Displays of Humiliation

Today at work there was this cool tweenage girl who was telling me she wanted to audition for a solo in her church's kid's musical. She was singing the song, and she did have a pretty and sweet voice. As a person who likes 1) kids 2) singing 3) church and 4) kids singing at church, I totally encouraged her to try out for that solo. Her words back to me were, "I want to, but I'm afraid I'm going to get stage fright and won't be able to do it."

And I couldn't think of anything to say in reply to that, because I had EXTREME stage fright until I was 18 years old. I'm not sure what the change was, but all through high school, I was basically unable to sing solos in front of people. Well, okay, technically that's NOT true. I sang a few solos in high school chorus and church, but for some reason if I ever actually held a microphone in front of my face, I'd choke. I couldn't sing. I couldn't even breathe. I used to think that I wanted to go into musical theater--I'm not sure how I thought I could handle it. I know I couldn't handle it now...but I digress.

This tweenage girl's fear reminded me of the most embarrassing displays of public humiliation I'll probably ever have (I hope). My sister was in Junior Miss. What is Junior Miss? It's a program for girls between their junior and senior years of high school. It's not a pageant (or that's what they say--I beg to differ). It's an educational scholarship program...where girls prance around on a stage and do stuff they do in...pageants. My sister did a great job (she won the talent portion and the portion entitled "presence and composure"...which was where the girls wore fancy dresses and pranced around and answered current event questions...like in a pageant...though this was not a pageant).

Well, when my turn came, my mom and sister encouraged me to participate, too. And to be honest, I kind of wanted to participate. I wanted to be like my sister, who did such an amazing job. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't have done it. Why? Because that sort of thing is just totally NOT for me. Overall, it wasn't a bad experience. I got to know some of the other girls and they were really great. But pageants (or NOT pageants...however you wish to see it) are just not my style at all.

Anyway, the night of the pageant was a disaster for me. A disaster. Completely. It was videotaped and stuff, but I never even watched it. Ever. I just never ever want to see the disaster of that night again. Everybody I knew and a gazillion people I didn't know were there to witness the greatest public display of humiliation I've ever had or will ever have.

There was this opening dance routine that wasn't judged, but it was our introduction to the audience and to the judges. I was participant #3, which meant I was at the front of the stage next to participants #1 and #2. Everyone else was behind me. So the curtains opened, the music started. I smiled and started dancing and put my heart into that routine. I didn't pay attention to contestants--oops, I mean "participants"--#1 and #2 beside me. I was focused on that audience and on those judges. And I was nailing that routine, I tell you. I was perfectly on beat.

Well, we did a turn at one point, and I realized that everyone else was doing a completely different move than I was. They were several beats ahead of me in the routine. I knew I had it right, but the thing was, everyone else had it wrong. I promise you. I was right, but the girls were following another participant who had started on the wrong count (she admited her mistake and laughed about it after the fact, but I didn't think it was funny--because I was the one who paid for that mistake). I would have followed the others, but I hadn't been watching them. I had been watching the crowd...like I was supposed to. So from the start of the whole thing, I looked ridiculous to the audience and the judges.

Then came the athletic portion, which didn't go too badly. Except, dude, athletics and I were never friends. So when it came time for me to do my "solo" athletics, I did some kind of stupid thing just to get it over with. In other words, it was again obvious that I sucked.

The talent portion was the worst. In retrospect, I shouldn't have played the guitar at all. I should have chosen a much better song than the one I chose--one that showed that I can sing like Christine Daae (for realz). But you know, it wouldn't have mattered. As soon as that curtain opened, I froze. I croaked out my song. Literally. It was dreadful. As soon as the curtains closed, I burst into tears.

And when the time came to prance around in a pretty dress and answer a question, I froze again. I don't remember the question. I don't remember my answer. I had one planned. When I started talking, I forgot what I was going to say and ended up just thanking the judges and going back to my spot, where I basked in utter humiliation. Maybe this is shallow of me, but current events were never my thing. I should have just said something about world peace and gotten it over with.

So yes, the entire night was a lesson to me to not try to be something I'm not. I'm not a pageant girl. I've got a lot of other talents that are much better suited to a socially awkward girl like me.

The winner that night had the right attitude, which I believe is one of the reasons why she won. It's perhaps some simple theology, but she kept saying that she could do all things through Christ (Philippians 4:13). I was focused on my own glory, quite honestly. I wanted to be noticed.

And I was.

For the wrong reasons.

There's a reason I don't sing a lot of solos in church these days, and it's not because I still get stage fright. It's not because I think I'm going to suffer public humiliation (I'm pretty much immune to that now). It's because I don't want to run the risk of focusing more on my performance than God's glory. When I'm asked to sing, I do. And I'm not completely opposed to volunteering. I am just very cautious, because I know I'm vain. And my church just so happens to have a plethora (I love that word) of amazing vocalists. I'm happy to let them shine, because they probably have the right attitude.

By the way, I did have a chance to redeem myself after the whole "Junior Miss Fiasco." When my high school graduation came around, we had a "Class Night" which is a night that showcases the graduating class. I sang for that. Now, the song choice is slightly embarrassing. I sang "Go the Distance" by Michael Bolton. The song that's in the Disney Hercules movie. It was actually a new movie when I was graduating high school, okay? And I still love the song. So there.

When I auditioned, I choked. But if you audition, they pretty much let you do whatever anyway. I sang it for the first rehearsal, and the stage fright was a little less. The second rehearsal, it was almost gone.

The night of Class Night, I nailed that song.

You'd better believe I watched THAT video again.

SSA Episode #13: The Woman Who Saved Valentine's Day

It's Socially Awkward Adventure #13! I hope none of my readers have triskaidekaphobia. Yes. I had to look up the correct spelling for that. No, that's not what this blog is about.

Have you ever wanted to do something nice for someone (or a group of people), but you lose track of time and find yourself scrambling at the last minute, and by the time you realize that it's too late to accomplish this nice thing, you kind of wish you hadn't thought of doing this nice thing in the first place?

If you could understand what I just wrote, I hope you can answer "No, Ruth. That's just you." Yes, the above scenario is something I have dealt with time and time again. Like, I get this idea that I'm going to make guacamole for a party (seriously...I make awesome guacamole. It's so good I call it "ROCKamole"), then I realize at the last minute that I don't have any avocados, and the only ones I can find in the stores are either too mushy or too hard, and then when I FINALLY find some ripe ones after going to four different stores, I realize I don't have at least an hour and a half to make this guacamole.

Apparently, this blog has a theme today, and this theme is run-on sentences...but I digress...

This post is not about Valentine's Day. Well, it is, but only indirectly. Okay, so it's about Valentine's Day. I mean, sort of...

So recently I saw this card for single people that said something stupid like, "I believe there is someone for everyone out there, and one day you will find yours. Until then, know that I love you and lots of other people do too." Basically, what that says to me is, "Here's a card so you won't feel lonely while the rest of us married people are at home snuggling with our spouses. Enjoy!"

The thing is, I'm really NOT bummed about Valentine's Day at all. Not at all. I haven't been for several years...and I've been single for several years. In fact, I've only been "with" someone for one Valentine's Day out of my whole life. But I'm not into that whole "Single Awareness Day" or whatever. It's Valentine's Day. I love Valentine's Day! Do you want to know why?

It's because I love kids. I mean, maybe if I had a significant other, I might just think Valentine's Day was all about showing my love to him. But...somehow I doubt it. I mean, all these froo froo hearts and flowers just don't make me feel romantic. They make me feel cutesy. Kids are good with cutesy.

I love getting those perforated valentine's cards to give to the kids in my life. I love putting together Valentine packages for my nieces and nephew. I love putting heart stickers all over the place. I love reading conversation hearts and just being flat out sickeningly adorable. I love Valentine's Day. And the greatest joy to me every Valentine's Day is giving cards/presents to the kids I love.

So...

Late last night I got this idea that I wanted to get individually wrapped rice krispies treats for the kids in my preschool class. We were having a Valentine's party today, so I thought it might be a nice gesture. I figured I had PLENTY of time to run out in the morning and get some rice krispies treats from CVS. Only CVS didn't seem to have any rice krispies treats--at least not that I could see. And CVS is pretty hopping on random Thursday mornings, especially when the ground is covered with a very light dusting of snow that will have completely melted away by noon--because in the South, if there's snow, that means everyone needs milk and bread immediately and at the same time, or the world will explode in a rainbow of heart-shaped confetti. So I couldn't ask anyone where the rice krispies treats were because all the employees were busy helping people find bread and milk that didn't seem to exist anymore.

No big deal. I had a plan B! There is a grocery store right around the corner from where I work. So I went there. I was still a few minutes ahead of schedule. It was awesome. I'd run in, find the rice krispies treats, and self-check my way out of there to arrive on time to work in a blaze of rice krispies treats glory. Only I couldn't seem to find the rice krispies treats at this store, either. I was browsing the snack aisle (a logical place to find...ya know...snacks), when I ran into one of the minister's wives from my church. I thought she was amazing before, but listen to this:

She greeted me. I explained my dilemma. She said she thought that the rice krispies treats should be with the snacks, too (logical place, that's all I'm saying). Well, I had to run because by this time I was late for work, so I figured the rice krispies treats were just not meant to be.

Alas. My quest for the rice krispies treats had come to an end. I had failed.

But, I say again, listen to this...(or read this...because it's written and not spoken...whatever...)

As soon as I got to work, I got a phone call from the minister's wife. She had found the rice krispies treats and was bringing me a box! I mean, she was like a super hero. The day was saved! She saved Valentine's Day!

You know how there are all those stupid movies out there about somebody saving Christmas? Ernest Saves Christmas. Noddy Saves Christmas (who's Noddy? Idk.) Elmo Saves Christmas. Dora Saves Christmas. Diego Saves Christmas (wasn't Dora enough?? Apparently not). Inspector Gadget Saves Christmas (I might actually watch that one). Rainbow Brite Saves Christmas. Felix the Cat Saves Christmas. Mater Saves Christmas. Your Mom saves Christmas (I might have made up that last one). Me thinks I should do a blog on "...saves Christmas" movies. Ya know...like sometime around Christmas...because right now it's around Valentine's Day...

Yeah, so anyway, they should make a movie about the lady who brought me rice krispies treats. They should call it "The Woman Who Saved Valentine's Day." I'd watch it.

I'd watch it because I lived it.

...and I still have half a box of rice krispies treats to prove it.

SSA Ep. #12: Invisible Leprosy

Aside from my chronic Social Awkwardness, I have another ailment. It's curable, but the older I get the chance of successfully curing it gets slimmer and slimmer. Fortunately, it's a condition that doesn't prevent me from living a normal life (as normal as my life gets) about 85% of the time. Some people don't seem to even notice I have this condition; it's not a big deal to them. Some treat me with derision. Others seem to think they must pity me and condescend to me. Some are completely and utterly afraid of me and my condition, and they avoid me at all costs. You see, I have Invisible Leprosy.

In other words, I'm a single woman in my thirties.

Being single doesn't bother me much. I just think it's hilarious the way other people treat me sometimes.

Some people seem to think that there must be something horribly wrong with me since I never got married. There are four ways this attitude usually goes:

1) There must be something wrong with her because no guy wants her.

I don't have much of a response for that. Maybe *those* people are right...but I have a different opinion. Personally, I haven't met a guy strong enough for someone like me. Not just ANY guy can handle this much socially awkward awesomeness.

2) She's one of those women who focused on her career so she never had time for marriage and family.

Lol...I work in childcare. Do people REALLY think I'm focusing on my career? I'd LOVE for a guy to romance me, sweep me off my feet, and then provide a steady income with health insurance benefits. I'd kind of like to take care of my OWN kids for a change, too.

3) She hates men.

...No. I don't. Moving on.

4) She's a lesbian.

...FACEPALM... No.

There are also people who feel the need to condescend to me and pity me. I have had SEVERAL conversations that went something like this:

Condescending Person: So are you married?
Me: No.
CP: Oh... *averts eyes as if they'd just insulted me*
Me: I'm content being single. It's not a big deal.
CP: Well, there are plenty of single guys out there.
Me: No, really, I'm cool with it.
CP: AND you are still young. You have PLENTY of time.
Me: Um, I know. But being single doesn't bother me. Really. At all.
CP: Well, I'll be praying God brings the right man into your life.
Me: I prayed that for years. Apparently, it's not His will for me right now. I'm okay with that.
CP: DON'T GIVE UP FAITH!
Me: I'm not, I'm just accepting the life He's graciously given me...
CP: You know what, I think I know a guy who would be perfect for you. I can set you up.
Me: Oh, would you look at the time! I must be going now. I've got an appointment with the pillow I'm going to cry into because I'm completely sad and alone and useless without a husband.

Another attitude I get is one where the person seems to get the impression that I'm "called to singlehood." In fact, I get this attitude a lot from people who need things: "You're single! God has called you to live a life free from the trappings of marriage so that you can help out others. So you need to drop everything and help me out with my problem."

I'm not called to singlehood, okay. I'm called to live the life God has given me whether it be married or single. I'm called to live. I'm more than happy to help out when I can and where I can, but I need to make something very clear. Just because I'm single and don't have kids, it does NOT mean I have all the free time in the world. I work three jobs and try to write in the little free time I have. Also, I try to maintain a meager semblance of a life. So no, I'm not required to help out with any task someone else thinks I'm supposed to do just because I'm single. But thanks for thinking of me...

I have to say that the funniest reaction I get to my Invisible Leprosy comes from guys.

When a guy figures out I'm single, he usually does one of three things. 1) If he's okay with me being single, then he just treats me as he would do any lady who is not his wife. 2) If he's married and NOT okay with me being single, then he will make a point to display his wedding band and mention that he is happily married to his beautiful wife and that he loves his 2.3 children, and then he'll get away from me as soon as possible. 3) If he's single and NOT okay with me being single, then he'll stutter a lot and mention that he is considering going into foreign missions and/or becoming a monk...and then he'll also get away from me as soon as possible.

Don't get me wrong. I completely understand the need for boundaries in male/female friendships. In fact, I am rarely comfortable being friends with a married guy if I'm not also friends with his wife. His wife is the most important person in his life (or should be), so I feel that I can't really be friends with him until I'm friends with her. I also think it's a good practice to try not to be alone with a married guy. With single guys, I think it's good to only hang out in groups unless we've agreed to pursue a dating relationship. I mean, even the most innocent friendships can be misread. People like to gossip and spread rumors. It's a good idea to be careful. I'm not going to have a spaz attack if something happens and I have to hitch a ride with a guy I'm not married to or whatever, though. It's just not that big of a deal...

But it really bothers me when a married guy practically runs away from me, just as it bothers me when a single guy assumes that I'm after him just because he is also single.

ATTENTION: Just because I am single, it does not mean I am a homewrecker. Just because I am single, it does not mean I am going to go after any single guy I can find. Just because I am single does not mean I am desperate. Just because I am single does not mean you have to be afraid of me. I'm safe. My condition is not contagious.

...or then again, maybe it is.

So on second thought, don't touch me. I'm a girl. I'm single. I have cooties.