The Single's Table

Okay God,

It never ceases to amaze me how well-meaning married friends and church and family members manage to shove all the single people together at the same table. It doesn’t matter if the occasion is a wedding, a birthday party, a picnic, or a first communion. All the single people are stuck together. In theory, this seating should work, but it doesn’t.

My manicurist recently attended a good friend’s wedding whose reception was at a lovely country club. At her table—the single’s table—sat every good reason on earth never to take the plunge. Loser Lane was the best way to describe that single table. Harsh assessment? No. You know you’re in trouble when the topic of discussion centers on bunions and hemorrhoids.

I went to a picnic where my friend Janice thought that seating me next to her single doctor friend would be a possible match. After a three-minute conversation, he started crying and said, “The big city is scary. I miss the feed store and my job at the shirt factory. Can I call you Mommy?” I looked around to see if his “mommy” was behind me. My eyes must have been the size of Texas because I had heard enough. I walked him to the playroom and put in a Sponge Bob DVD and gave him a Popsicle.

Moments later, I was in the food line when a Jamie Foxx look-alike offered to buy me a drink. I looked at him and said, “Food and drink are free.” Why did I say free? I knew what was coming next. He gave me his business card, which had a condom stapled to it. He took the “free” comment to mean that other nocturnal activities with respect to me were “free.” I quickly explained to him that circumcision during biblical times was done without a sedative or an alcohol swab. He left and walked in a holding pattern.

Realizing that this was going to be a very long day, I settled in for the long haul. I walked over to the bar and asked for a virgin margarita (with tons of sugar) from my buddy Manalo, who moonlights as a bartender. A very handsome Aussie walked over to me and said, “You’re a nice sheila. Who ya with?” He then proceeded to kiss my hand and said, “Because I’d like to dance cheek-to-cheek with you.” Manalo, without missing a beat, said to me while handing the wannabe Russell Crowe a drink, “Great, an-heela, you’ve found a donor since you’re ovulating.”

That was the last time I saw the Gladiator.

So is there such a thing as a good single table?

God: Why do you think I periodically call a fast?