It all started one Sunday. Actually the Sunday after my 31st birthday. I was invited to another 31st birthday dinner. Since I’m the type of friend that cannot say no, I decided to go. I called one of my other friends to see if she would be going and she said, yeah, I’ll try to go. The day of the dinner comes and she calls and asks if I was bringing a date. My normal response ‘No, I wasn’t planning too’. Oh because I was going to ask [Jim] if he wanted to come. Fast forward to dinner and I am sitting in between two couples and two children at a dimly-lit, overpriced restaurant. Great.
As the night went on, it wasn’t horribly bad, but I felt awkward. Not the type of awkward that you feel when you at a party where you don’t know anyone, but the awkward feeling when your singleness is the elephant in the room. Oddly enough, the subject of hooking me up with one of the dudes friends came up and that elephant came trotting towards me at 2 miles an hour. As my two female friends asked several questions about this guy because in their words, I would even think to ask these questions. It progressed to pulling up pictures of him on Facebook. I slowly sipped my watermelon martini.
Was I that pathetic? In this particular situation, yes, I was that pathetic hopelessly single friend that everyone wanted to see happy. The friend that when they find her the perfect one they’ll boast about how it was their great matchmaking skills that is the reason that she is no longer the pathetic, dateless, hopelessly single girl that she was 4 months ago. That elephant must have been sitting right between the baby sling, to the left of the Bang-Bang Shrimp and smack dab in front of me. As I delighted in my small, but flavorful plate, it dawned on me. I’ve never brought a date to any event-NEVER! Not a dinner, party, BBQ, wedding, nothing. It’s always just been me: RSVP: 1. By the time, I finished off my crabcake, anxiety set in. Between my mind and the elephant sitting there, I went from feeling awkward to uncomfortable. I saw a quote on Pintrest that said ‘Don’t believe everything you think’, but I couldn’t help it. My mind was consumed with thinking about how out of all my friends in Pittsburgh, I am the only one that was single. You’re 31 years old…when you go to the gynecologist, you need to ask about freezing your eggs, oh and fertility treatments.
Later that night, as my friends relished in their children playing games and napping and never touching their wallets (their beaus footed the bill), I was served with a $31.32 bill-before tip-paid for by moi.