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Serial Memoir: Part III

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Thursday, July 14, 2005

PART III: THE NOTE!

Saturday, March 15, 2003, 9:35 p.m.

T WAS SURELY cold out there today! March isn't called the windy month for nothing. In between chasing books that took to flight like birds I pictured myself somewhere hot, warm, humid even. Needless to say, business was slower than usual.

Anyway, back to the reason my slowly defrosting digits are being forced to pen these words: my all-nighter last night.

Hmmm, that sounds as though I were doing more than merely prospective-mate-watching, doesn’t it? Well, if I play my cards right, who knows?

I got back from the bathroom and there it was: my first note! Pulse racing, I seated myself at the computer. Just to give the guy a fair shake, I read the note before I looked at the profile and picture (lucky for him, too!). While I wouldn’t exactly call him attractive, he had a little something going for him. His note was funny and challenging, and he sounded real. He was also a Trinidadian, which earned him bonus points from my point of view. My sister has always warned me to avoid Trini men. She says they’re too sneaky and disrespectful. But hey, she’s not here and she’s married, so it’s every single woman for herself, right?

(What is that about anyway? Ever notice that a whole bunch of married women are always advising single women on how to be single? Meanwhile, they’re going home to stolen covers, morning breath, mangled toothpaste, and upright toilet seats, things some of us would kill to have. I’d have an easier time accepting relational mores from someone navigating the same waters. Maybe I’ll write a book about it… soon as I figure it out myself.)

I can’t believe I’m back here again, in the dating pool. I’ll have to lose weight, buy new clothes, do that bikini wax thing—oh, bump that. No more trying before buying, remember? Now say it like you mean it, girl: I AM NOT A CAR…NO TEST DRIVES ALLOWED!

(Translation? I’ll be alone for the rest of my life!)

Anyway, back to the note. I replied in my cutesy lil way and told him a little about myself. Height, age, weight—lawd, not the weight. In two weeks maybe; don’t wanna lie. Fasting and lying do not a good combo make. Hmmm, do fasting and man hunting—ahem, proper positioning—coincide? I mean, when you look at it, I’m not hunting down a man. I’m positioning myself where I can be found. Dang, that sounds weak even to me. Oh well, I’m gonna try this. Anything’s got to be better than my social life as it is right now.