Adventures in Singledom

What’s more fun than experiencing an awkward singles night? Why, blogging about it of course. Because if one can’t laugh at one’s circumstances, one might as well have company to link arms with and share the laughter.

I’ve never attended a singles group before. Being from a small town where I wasn’t involved with any of the local churches (see this post), this whole concept was one I was familiar with, and yet foreign at the same time. But getting together with a singles group? Sounds like a great way to get out and meet new people in an area I’m not familiar. Plus,

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one single girl can never be too willing to get out in safe environments and actually meet guy—people. *wink* *wink*

Oh, was I in for a surprise.

Let me preface this by saying I was forewarned, but I’m getting ahead of myself and a good storyteller never jumps ahead of the dramatic curve.

But let me just ask something: does this kind of stuff only happen to me?? (some of you might remember this story where the guy asked for my number at the barn dance. I’m obviously a magnet for these kind of encounters…)

So imagine me: Saturday night. New church (which I really like, I might add). Nice jeans. Cute “Life is Good” purple jacket. Hair down. I’m ready for a good time. I park in the church parking lot, pass a few people leaving from the Saturday afternoon service, greet the preacher on his way out the door. I navigate my way to the room where the singles are gathering (without getting lost—things are looking great!).

I pause in the doorway. Yep, there is the sticker with my name on it. I slap it on my purple sweatshirt and tentatively step into the room. Did I find the wrong room? I glance down at my tag. Nope, that’s my name.

Except…everyone in this single’s group could…could be my parents. And my grandparents. And….my great grandparent.

I was the youngest member of the single’s game night by (wait for it)…seventy six years.

I’m not kidding.

Okay, maybe I am a little bit. He was the father of the lady coordinating the event. But still.

A few grins, a few winks, a few shoulder nudges as the new girl on the street corner of the singles group. So I chatted, stuffed a brownie in my mouth, played a few games, chipmunked my cheeks with a cookie, played another game and then it was time for yep, you guessed it ice breakers.

You know the ones. Where you stand in a line and hold hands and pass a hula-hoop across your body and linked hands without breaking the line? So that was actually a game and not an ice breaker, but it might as well have been the icing on the evening.

My hands are usually always clammy. It’s not fun. It’s not pleasant. It just is what it is with me. Period. And well…standing there, holding hands, as we closed out this fun and yet-oh-so-awkward evening, one of the attendees turns to me and says, “your hands are sweaty”.

Why yes, sir they are. I prefer clammy, personally, but whatever.

All fun and games aside and lest you think it was a horrible and traumatic experience, it was a good evening. A fun time of laughter and games and I’m glad I went. But let me ask this question again: do things like this only happen to me? Because I’m starting to think that’s the case.

I’m single. Proud of it actually, though I look forward to the day I get to marry “Mr. Right”. But until that day, I’ll plan on having fun and sharing these awkward, interesting, laughable events. Because hey, one can’t be alone in their awkward singleness can they?*

Just, next time, I’ll look for that asterisk that is next to the word “singles” and hope I find one that is actually more around my age range.

*please note this event happened before I wrote this post. I could very well be traumatized for life in putting myself out there for these potentially awkward situations that I seem to attract.