I’m good friends with two people at work -- Eve and Susannah. Our tradition is to celebrate one another’s birthdays by going out to lunch. My birthday is coming and we’ve been trying to set a date. As it turns out, this year Eve can’t go at noon because she has to run home to let Izzy out. Normally Paul would do it for her but he’s working out of town this week. We held a group IM session to figure it out. They suggested going to dinner instead.
“Any evening but Friday works for me,” I said.
Susannah, always on alert for romance, asked, “Why not Friday? Date??”
As if.
Twelve years ago I gave up dating. I had been in a relationship that ended badly (while on vacation out of the country he told me he’d met someone else). I dated two men after, both met through a personal ad. The first one was OK but there wasn’t any chemistry, and the second seemed to be in love with his ex mother-in-law. That was it for me. I told myself the only way I would date again is if I met someone in a traditional way and he worked really hard to get my attention. It was time that someone put forward effort to get me. I was fully aware that I’d likely never date again. I’m introverted, I rarely go anywhere conducive to meeting new people, and I do not have an attractiveness that turns heads, so odds were stacked against dating. I was fine with my decision then and have been every day since.
“No date,” I wrote. “My vacation starts Friday I’ll be spending the day Christmas shopping. I anticipate being too crabby to socialize.”
We settled on Thursday night.
“Do you mind if we invite the husbands?” Susannah asked.
I get tired of being the only single person among couples but if I’d said that it would have started a cycle of “hey you should meet our friend…”
“Husbands are welcome but we better not go any place where they clap, sing or an any way acknowledge a birthday.”
And with that, the terms were agreed upon.
I hear this. Been thirteen years now.
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