The Jet Set

One of the best things about being single is that at any time you can pick up and go whenever you feel like. I mean isn’t that the very thing we singles brag about all the time when sitting with our coupled-off friends? Sure. Co-habitation is nice; always having someone to snuggle with on a cold rainy Sunday is awesome. However, if I want to spend the weekend in Europe, I can. Just like that. No questions to answer. Just pack my credit card and take off.


Except, who really just randomly takes off to Europe? Or Mexico? Or Africa?

Well, it turns out, I do.

Or at least it was offered to me. A friend of mine randomly emailed me late last night with a proposal. Along with a bunch of her friends, she was headed to Morocco. Now, one of the friends had back out. So, if I wanted to, I could join them for a week in Marrakesh.

Did I want to go?

Hell to the yes.

But could I go?

Well. That is slightly more complicated. I have the money (I would be eating Ramen noodles for a while, but I could make it work) and the time to take. But it would mean cancelling other plans and living under the weight of a huge credit card bill, and worrying that something should happen and the money or time that I now needed was spent in Africa.  

And therein lies the rub. Yes. I am single and childless. But I am not without responsibilities. I have a job and a credit score and bills. While it is lovely to fantasize that I can just pick up and run off to Rome at a moment’s notice, I can’t.

Or can I?

After all, work and bills will be there when I get home. I lived on Ramen noodles before, I can do it again. So why not take off for Morocco? I don’t have to make arrangements for a sitter. Or assure my boyfriend that my single girlfriends and I will be on our best behavior. I did just buy a maxi orange skirt that would look awesome wandering around a bazaar in Marrakesh. Isn't it my responsibility as a footloose and fancy-free single girl to go on this trip?

Maybe, but it's not me. I am neither footloose nor fancy-free. I tried to be. I got all the way to entering my credit card information and almost hitting the purchase button, but the anxiety and questions and nausea were just too much. I need to plan and map and chart and budget and see it all laid out in front of me. All I saw before me were questions I couldn't answer for sure.

So, I closed the browser instead.

My Favorite Mistake

So you know how when you are single, friends some times tell you that the one you are looking for is probably right in front of you, you just have never thought of him that way.

Well, I always sort of bought into that, except it wasn’t me that needed to open my eyes. It was a friend of mine.

Actually, more of a really good acquaintance.

I met him a few years ago and almost immediately developed a huge crush on him. But I got the sneaking suspicion he didn’t feel the same way. The more we hung out and the more I saw him in action, the more this feeling was confirmed.

But still, I thought, maybe one day. Just like my friends always said. One day we would be hanging out, laughing, drinking and he would realize just how freakin’ fantastic I am and we would live happily ever after.

Then I started to really think about it. Think about what I was waiting for. Think about why I was waiting. Then one night I was on a girl date with a new potential single girlfriend and she introduced me to two of her guy friends and after only one beer and a lot of laughs, her one guy friend couldn’t stop telling me how awesome I am.

What the? He knew me for maybe an hour and he already recognized it. Why was it taking my friend almost five years.

So I decided that I didn’t have a crush on him anymore. After all, I could never really be with someone that thick.

That is until a mutual friend got married. Maybe it was all the wine. Or the beer after. Or the wedding, or the dancing or what it felt like to have his tongue in my mouth -- I guess it doesn’t really matter -- I ended up going home with him.

Of course, because this is me we are talking about, only after I spilled my guts about my secret crush and how I know he didn’t like me and how I sort of really think that sucks and I can’t understand why he doesn’t like me the way I like him.

The next morning, while going over what of the conversation I remembered, I noticed that he never actually said he liked me. He argued my reasoning, and offered possible alternative motives for his actions, but he never said, “Tati, I like you. I’ve liked you for some time.” He never said anything like that.

Instead he kissed me, and I stupidly kissed him back.

As the haze of my hangover cleared, I prepared myself for the worst. I got a Gatorade, snuggled into my hangover couch, turned on my TV and waited for the regret to sink in.

Except, it never came.

The following morning, I tried to force it out. Kept reliving my stupidity over and over again. And still nothing.

I couldn’t help but think, while yes I was drunk, I was honest. I went home with a guy that I liked, and woke up next to a guy I didn’t.

Which was a relief. This time I was really over my crush on him.

So now the only thing I regret is not spending more time flirting with the cute lawyer that was seated at my table at the wedding. Well, that and that my friend’s roommate may or may not have seen me mostly naked.

But when you think about all my neighbors that may or may not have seen me naked over the years because I’m too lazy to bother closing my shades, that isn’t really a big deal either.