27 crappy dresses

I'm wearing my first dress this July. Gotta practice that "sweet" smile

For an almost 29-year old bachelorette, it’s the 27 dresses season. My friend announced her engagement a year ago, and is set to get hitched with her fiance next month.

Then, like a virulent pathogen, two acquaintances announced their engagements too via facebook. I’m happy for all of them don’t get me wrong there, but that means the pressure on me got higher. It’s like I am waiting on a bated breath with a golf club on my hand, ready to strike that ignoramus who might ask the million-dollar question to me next. Kidding aside, I suddenly felt the need to get out of my hometown, even detach from my social networking sites; I know this is bad, but this is how I feel right now; I have friends who share the similar feeling, but (there’s the big BUT)…they are actually committed to someone, just waiting for an engagement ring (of course, apart from being financially ready, they are ready), while I, ever the Madonna, has received nothing but indecent proposals for the last 28 years I have been very very much available. And then I look inside my social network; and a social network analysis through UCINET won’t be needed to determine that there’s no room for a romance since the guys inside my network are yet to get past their identity phases or change their gender preferences; or some of them have yet to feel the butterflies in their stomachs when they see my decolletage in a red mini dress (oh whatever, I don’t even have a mini dress; much worse, in red) and of course, their pheromones should prance well with my olfactory senses.

Singlehood is starting to bore me, if you look into the context of being left alone during weekend, seemingly waiting in vain for a single text message from friends or even aliens who was used to being eager to see you (for whatever purpose but oh, the incessant text messages seemed endless and now they are with their own pairs, you dissipate like a mothball in the moldy shoe cabinet), or engaging in channel flipping as a weekend sport. I even remember cringing one Sunday when my sister, who’s about to go to her boyfriend’s place asked me “aren’t you going out  on a date (sometimes it goes with a name)?”

Well, that’s cringing, but  I see this scenario in a couple of more years, if I spend the next 54 weekends alone.

With this, my desire to move out increased. Move out and get a job somewhere else. I’m so comfortable that I am stuck where I am. I am planning to move out by next year, well, to learn life’s dirty tricks and deal with it. I am at this point where I just want to stop seeing people, errr..happy couple or attending weddings (I hope July will be my last for this year). I am even planning an escape strategy if ever wedding bells for my friends is lurking somewhere in the dark alley. Being single is actually fun, but, I have yet to see it and feel it for myself by living my life somewhere else, maybe. Or for now, maybe I should have the nerve to try new things. Now that I think about the things I;d like to do, I’d better stop fretting and start enjoying the single charmed life God has given me. There’s just so much to do. Like call up my ever loyal movie guy and catch a good movie next weekend together…and chick flick is a no-no .


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