I know I retired (killed) the cliché of single women dying alone a couple of posts back and I am not about to revive it here. But it would be disingenuous if I didn’t admit I do fear dying alone. However, my fear is a very specific one.
I’m afraid of slipping and falling and, unable to reach my mobile phone, I die a slow, painful death alone in my apartment. This fear has more to do with my steep stairs, hardwood floors, general lack of grace, the fact that I wear five-inch heels, that I like to drink a lot, sometimes leave my five-inch heels wherever I kicked them off the night before, and often forget to bring a towel with me to the shower thus requiring me to run across my hardwood floors, wet and naked and not paying attention, then it does with being single.
Bridie once assured me that this was a silly and unnecessary fear: my friends would all start to worry after the second day passed with no Facebook status update.
Still, I get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside when I get a panicked call from a worried friend who hasn’t heard from me.
I got such a call from Marie a couple of weekends back. Marie and I had emailed back and forth on Friday, arranging to meet for a bike ride the next morning. I wanted to get out before 10 a.m., but Marie, who had plans to go to BBQ that night, wasn’t ready to set a time, in case she had a little too much barbecue (and by barbecue we all know I mean beer). We agreed she would text me the next morning. I then went home, watched a movie, did a little reading and was snuggled under my coverlet early.
So early, in fact, I didn’t bother to set my alarm. I figured there was no way I wasn’t getting up by 9 a.m. and really, isn’t it always so much nicer to wake-up without an alarm?
My plan worked beautifully. The next morning I was up by 5 a.m. But since it was so early, and Marie wouldn’t be texting for at least another four hours, I fell back asleep. The next time I opened my eyes it was after 9:30.
I got up quickly, checked my phone and found two texts from Marie and one nervous sounding voicemail. I smiled, sent her a text her back and then got ready to meet her for our ride.
When Marie and I finally met up, I was curious and so I asked her how long she would have waited before she called the cops.
Marie cocked her head to the side and asked why she would call the cops?
“Well, if I didn’t text you back, then clearly I would have been in trouble; possibly sprawled out on my floor, with a life-threatening injury.”
She laughed. “Are you kidding? I was excited for you. I thought maybe you and Salty went out last night and you had hooked up.” She laughed harder. “The only time you don’t immediately respond to one of my texts is when you are in someone else’s bed.”
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