Miss Coco Noir and Guest

Apparently it is the height of the Fall Wedding Season, and the view from my mailbox has proven that I am a hot commodity.  With all the invites to showers, bachelorette parties, seasonal parties and weddings I have noticed two little words that cut like a knife to this single girl that does not have a significant other.  The words stare blankly at me.  The words knowingly mock me in an innocent handwritten calligraphic script:  and Guest.  There they are eight simple letters.

When these letters are configured together they are enough to cause a girl that is part of a pair to have heart palpitations at the possibilities of her own wedding vows.  But for the single girl "and Guest" is enough to cause my perfectly mascaraed eyelashes to flutter in distress with the potential of arriving stag.

Do I go? Don't I go?  Do I bring a friend? Will I bring a guy or a girl?  If I bring a guy, friends and family will assume we are dating.  Then the really hurtful questions will begin:  "Who is this?  When will you be getting married?"  All which cause my head to spin.

Will I be the second half of a dubious duo again?  If so, when?  Aghhhh!  It's all too much, especially when all the questions are already answered, only to be revealed in God's time.  Still I am pondering, would it really be the end of my social life if I were to arrive at a wedding alone?

I had a friend, who has since passed away, once ask me, "Have you ever gone to a movie by yourself?  You are the type of girl that has men falling all over her.  I'm sure you have so many open options and invitations. I bet you have never thought of going to the movies or to dinner by yourself, have you?"

At the time I thought Chris was ludicrous in his thinking.  Really? The idea of me going to the movies by myself was ridiculous.  The though sent chills down my spine especially with the thought of being one of those seemingly sad, single, middle aged people in the theater by themselves.  When I see the loner filling one singular seat surrounded by a sea of empty, carcassed, silhouetted chairs I can't help but to wonder, "Who is taking care of their cats while he or she has abandoned them to watch this movie?"

Perhaps the singling has idiosyncrasies like overzealous laughter, "Is that person laughing just a little bit too loudly to fill a void in their life?  Has this person been hurt and thus avoiding human contact?  Is that a cat's head sticking out of their coat?"

But once I rationalized Chris' thought pattern, I understood what he was trying to say.  He was asking me if I was afraid of being alone, deeper yet he was questioning an inability to go against social 'norm' standards in partaking in social activities as an individual.  I took his quizzical nonsense as a challenge.

For the first time I went to movies by myself.  Yes it was different and I was quite nervous about the oddity of being seated alone, I sneaked in after the lights had dimmed. My insecurities were only combined with the inability to discuss plot, character, setting and themes afterwards with someone that shared the same viewing sensations.  Regardless I enjoyed every minute of "Bridget Jone's Diary."  Yes, I took myself to a chick-flick, date movie on a Saturday night and survived.  But that is me, if I'm going to go; I'm going all the way.  Do it and do it right!  Still a movie is not a wedding.

I have had eight months to prepare for the possibility of arriving stag to the social event of the season; still the actuality of the possibility has not begun to sink in until now.  NOW!  Ten days and counting down! Eight months have dwindled down to ten days. 

As I tend to do, I have rationalized and over analyzed the situation.  I am a bridesmaid in this wedding.  The entire reason for my existence is to serve the bride and look pretty.  Which let's face it; I do on a daily basis.  It is not a big deal. 

Would it really be fair to drag a gentleman caller the epitome of social status in Covington, TN, especially where the off chance that said gentleman will know another guest would be slim to none?  Would it be polite to leave a gentleman at a table to fend for himself when I would be required to perform bridesmaid duties all evening? 

All rational questions required the answer of the most disturbing word in the English language, "No."  However I also have validated differing, let's refer to them as 'Devil's advocated' opinions.  Almost any man would be lucky to escort me to the wedding.  If not only for the chance of having a beautiful woman on his arm, I will be all 'done-up' sophisticated-like, insert southern accent here. But also he should be honored to spend time short interrupted spurts of time while I'm not bridesmaiding, with me. 

Honestly, I’m not having any luck at vying for the attention of a gentleman caller and a possible date.  For the most part, single men are weird, sorry boys. And, I'm not into the marrieds, not sorry.  Perhaps, I should begin taking advice from Bridget Jones, "Maybe is true what Smug Marrieds say that only men left single are single because they have massive flaw." Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason, by Helen Fielding. 

Ehhh, but I'm not willing to give up on all of bachelordom.  Perhaps I should fall in love more easily, as the baroness from The Sound of Music says, "There's nothing a man finds more attractive than a woman who is in love with him." I'm not one for infatuation with the L-word.  Besides, I am not programmed to have to always have a boyfriend just so he can be an adjective to me.  I am just me, as I say, "Please don't perceive me as more or less than I am.  I don't try to live up to my reputation, I just am." 

On my last date, my fortune in my Chinese cookie read, "Don't give up.  The best is yet to come."  God is taking his sweet time and I am willing to wait.  In the meantime, I am strong and stubborn enough to withstand the social 'norm' standards.  These antiquated ideas are a temptation of sorts, an enticement and a challenge.  Who among the single, doctoral or political candidate attendees will not be able to resist a flirty, sideways glance, a raised eyebrow and the sultry, pouty lips of an unattached bridesmaid?  I, for one, am willing to ascertain the situation. 

So, the question remains, "Would attending a wedding as a single be the end of my social life?"  Not a chance.  Besides, if I change my mind I could always carry a large handbag complete with "and Guest,” a newly adopted kitten.  But I'm not one for cats, I much prefer the company of men. 

*Miss Coco Noir is one of my many aliases.

Naming the Puppy

When I first start dating a new man I always refer to him as "the puppy." There is not an actual dog. 

You know when you were a child and a dog might follow you home, you don't know if you will keep the puppy, if you'll get along with the puppy, if he'll run away, or if he'll stay for more than a week. Then all of a sudden you start calling it a name.  The puppy has a real name!  The next thing you know he also has toys, a bowl embossed with his name on it, you have to take him on walks, he is house trained, and he is sleeping in the bed with you. You begin to love the puppy. At this point you have officially adopted a dog, or in my case a man.  

In order to keep it simple during the trial period or first few months of dating I give a man a nickname. I only refer to him by his nickname.  Absolutely under no circumstances should a man be referred to by his given name unless you are planning on keeping him.  Thus, you name the puppy. 

Time M-f'n Out, I'm Calling a Conference

When I was little, I had a favorite poem in a book:  "Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of."  Now when I think of that child's rhyme I cannot help but to think of Mar.
I had heard countless stories about Mar from Jenn, "She is so much fun, I can't wait for you to meet her, you will like her and get along so well."  I had heard that about so many people from countless mouths, rarely was the prediction true, "Too bad she is stuck up her loser boyfriend's ass and always spending the weekends with him in Covington."  So when I finally had the chance to meet this girl I had been hearing about, I jumped at it.

When I first met Mar she was in her apartment "getting ready for a date" to the Orpheum Theater.  I thought to myself, her boyfriend sure must be something special for her to put so much into being as effortlessly beautiful as she is.  Then there was a knock, Mar came rushing out of her bedroom, a cloud of perfume trailing behind her.  She answered the front door.  Before Jenn, Mar and I, there stood a very handsome and distinguished looking gentleman every bit of 49 years old.  My mouth dropped and my mind was swirling, was it the beer or the flowery scent in the air?

He said, "Hurry up, we are late.  I'll be waiting in the car."

As soon as the door shut the perfume cleared from the room.  I gave Jenn a wild eye look and in
disbelief asked, "Where did she meet her boyfriend and how old is he?"


Jenn fell over in a fit of laughter, "OhMyGod! That is her dad!"

First impressions are first impressions.  In all of my life I have never seen someone change a first impression in such a short amount of time as Mar.  From dressed to go to an opera, ok Les Miserable, with an 'older man' to running through the cold January rain down Beale Street to drink beer at an after-the-party birthday party.  Mar burst through the doors of the bar with such a blast of energy the entire bar stopped to see this sultry red-headed wonder.  I was amazed.  How could a woman of barely twenty have so much charisma as to spellbind an entire party with a simple twist of her hips, a flirty rise of an eyebrow, a twinkle in her eyes and a full out smile on her lips?

Although she would never admit it Mar is strong:  emotionally, mentally and willfully.  She is confident in herself and transfers her confidence towards her friends.  She is uplifting and also willing to stand behind a friend or beside them when they are not strong enough to stand on their own.  She has a quick wit, a fierce temper, and a mischievous streak that more often than not has brought hours of laughter into our friendship. She is not afraid to tell a joke, or crack one on herself.  She is humble and admits when she is wrong. Mar is honest, if not blunt.  She loves her friends entirely, forgiving their flaws.  If I could pick one adjective phrase to describe her it would be "pure sex appeal."  She has taught me what it is to be a Southern girl, dually appreciated.  She is the ultimate 'can-do' girl, comfortable playing with snails and puppy dog tails in the country or makeup in the city.  I am proud to admit that Mar is my friend.

Before Mar moved from Memphis to Texarkana, TX she carried a video camera around for weeks making everyone she knew tell stories about herself.  Me, forever procrastinating, said I would do it later. Really I was avoiding the 55lbs the camera adds, kidding... besides when I'm perpetually behind the camera why would I want to be in front of it?  Essentially, I have too many wonderful stories about Mar to choose just one.

One horrible day during Spring Break, with a Sam's club card pressed against my cell phone and that to my ear, "I hope you are ready to drink because I am bringing the beer."  Armed with two cases I drive my jalopy across the Mid-South interstate system then winding through various ghettos and barrios.  At 2 o'clock in the afternoon Mar and I started drinking.  I don't remember much more than singing and dancing on the balcony and hollering at guys passing by or on the phone, but one thing I will never forget is that day I gained an invaluable friendship.

In the course of our friendship Mar and I have spent too numerous of hours on runs, ok walks around the University campus, the only thing really running is our mouths, fondly referred to as "Boy Venting Walks and Talks."  With Mar's 'good head' on her shoulders and talking through our social lives, she gave me the courage to change my life, "You're not in love with him, you love someone else...blah, blah, blah."

Besides, being the voice of reason - I must admit that Mar has never tried to influence me from random make out sessions with Grande Juan, it must simply be a slight lapse of  my judgment or sobriety - Mar can be the little devil that sits just above your ear whispering evil thoughts and ideas.  At least when she is the instigator she sees the concept through to actualization. Visualize~Actualize.  Whether it is dancing on stage at the local pub, walking home drunk and pushing over every trash can on the street, getting me to act like a complete fool to win the attention of some guy, although I am quite good of doing so on my own, drunk dialing guys - it always seems like a good idea at the time, or even yelling Sigma Epsilon Chi chants at the tops of our lungs, Mar always has an ace up her sleeve and a design at making the situation better.  She is the life of the party.

When Mar and Torin found each other I was never so excited.   Although with him she has calmed down, trust me, you have to meet Mar. She is so much fun.  You will indeed discover that she is sugar, but a little warning:  watch for the spice.

A Date on Valentine's Day

Good News:  I have a date for today.

Bad News:  It is a Court Date...."You see what ha-happened was"

Apparently, it seems that when you run a stop sign you must remember not to cut off a police officer while doing so.  Speaking from experience, they tend to frown on that.

For goodness sakes, it was 6:10am! Shouldn't he have been busy at the Quickie Mart getting a donut?

So I am officially the worst driver I know.  I’m not really that bad, aside from running over two mailboxes, various speeding tickets, and one failure to maintain control.  In my defense, that jerk dead stopped in front of me to make an illegal left hand turn across Union Avenue into the Schuncks. For those non-Memphis readers, Union Avenue is 6 lanes.  Three of those are on-coming traffic.  This guy was trying to cross, with a broken turn signal.  The ordeal was completed, the police leaving and then the driver needs an ambulance with a "Oh my neck and back” injury.

I have truly calmed my driving down.  I feel sorry for any of you that rode with me between the years of 1998 through 2001.  Those were the years of taking turns on two wheels.

 Anyway, as I got ready for my date, yes I am taking it to be that important.  I showered; figuring out Victoria's Secret is not to get the shampoo in my damned eyes, shaved, tweezed and manicured my nails too.  I slathered on my war face and opted for the salmon pink sweater set, the pearl necklace complete with matching earrings, and lucky panties.  Don't deny it girls; you all have a pair that never fails.  I thought preppy would be better than good girl turned bad with the mini skirt.
I parted my straightened hair on the right side and pulled it into a loose braid, slipped on my heels and headed to the Town of Atoka City Court.  I sat there, nervous as I could be until my name, "A.V.E.U.L, Ariel Conway," was called.

I plead, "Guilty," and was charged $70.00. That is five dollars less than the underage, open-container, driver kid who went before me got charged!  Five stinkin' dollars for alcohol in a car!!  I’m not complaining, it could have been worse, it could have occurred in Shelby County.

So let me tell you one more story, with this one I am crowning myself "Queen of the Dorks."  That is until one of you can dethrone me, and I'm sure you have the power to do so.

The day I ran the stop sign I quickly left the house after brushing my teeth and subsequently not looking in the mirror.  No wonder the police officer let me go so quickly.  I drove all the way to work in Olive Branch.  Olive Branch is an hour away from my home.  I was thinking I was just the cutest thing on earth.

Can you believe I didn't even check myself out in the rearview?  Well I didn't.  All sorts of men were checking me out, or so I thought.

"Damn, I must be really hot today," I thought to myself.

I walked into the office 20 minutes late and explained to my office manager why I was late.  Still everyone was looking at me.

I sat down to begin dispatching the plumbers.  Mr. Mushroom, in all of his glory, sat down to flirt with me.  The thought of mushroom's have recently made me gag in disgust.

This gentleman, and I use the term loosely, has recently declared that he has the hots for me.  He has also deemed it necessary to share with me that he has named his appendage “the mushroom,” because that is what he is shaped like. Gag!

Anyway, he looks at me and loudly announces to the entire office, through his thick Mississippian draw, "What is that white shit on your face?"

"Oh...yes," my left hand flew up to touch the corner of my mouth.  I tilted my head and said, "It's toothpaste, I'm keeping it there for later...it's the in-thing to do."

Instantly I was relieved, anything I can do to make myself look less cool in front of him works for me.  However, I do have a problem, was it too far above the call of duty for the police office to notify me of my toothpaste mishap?