They Think I'm Crazy

It is amazing how hot a face can get when it flushes. All that blood rushing up so quickly that it makes your head appear like a luminous red light bulb. Apparently this causes a chain reaction, too: after my face turned all of its shades of crimson, my hands start to shake and my mouth gets as dry as sand. After a drought. In Arizona. The reaction is so violent that a person who knows me intimately but not at all was able to notice. Curses! This would be hideously galling had communicating my feelings, however platonic, not been the goal. But so it was, and there I was squirming with the foreignness of it all.

Then I get the wedding invitation...dun dun DUN. Not even the real one, but a WARNING one. I swear to God, these things are engineered to torture those of us who cling to the single lifestyle. Yes, I am perfectly happy with my life as is - body image, plans for the future, marital status, or lack there of. No, I do not care the slightest bit about what these people (who sometime remind my of 13th graders, choosing to take the high school social dramas with them into adulthood) think of me. Curious, though. I mean, really thought provoking. The minute that my nosy little hands seperated the flap from the glue on the envelope, I started thinking " 'K. I've got x amount of time to make my body look droolably amazing, create a plan for my life so that I don't have to claim waiting tables anymore, and find me one hell of a good looking man, even if I have to trip his ass in a bar." Curious indeed.