I was in the shower pondering the use in shaving my legs one day this week when I noticed my “date soap” sitting there abandoned.  Now, first off, let me just ask this question: am I the only one who has Date Soap?  Date Soap is the posh, super awesome smelling soap I treasure (made by a friend’s company locally) that is no milkshake, but it will bring some boys to the yard (when combined with the lotion and a smile).  [And no, I never figured that song out, I’m over 35, so forgive me if I used the outdated slang wrong].  It is saved for special occasions, i.e. a date.  It is never to be used casually [unless my friend wants to donate more].  It’s like bringing out the good China but you know, for your armpits and clavicle.

I stared at it and began wondering when I’d have the energy to ever use it again.  Or will I?  I mean, while the Date Soap is powerful, I’m standing there with my hair in a bun [meh, day 3, who cares] not even up for shaving my legs, much less making awkward, meaningless conversation with someone over dinner.  I almost grabbed it and used it “just because.”  But no, one must have standards and convictions.  Oh sure, start in on that “I deserve to love and date myself blah blah blah” horseshit.  That would be like using my guest towels on the hairy legs!  This is the South.  We have codes of ethics and such.  I steadfastly refuse to use the Date Soap for purposes violating the code.  [I also put on my white flip flops and then took them off for the same reasons. However, today they are free! And I will wear them today just because it’s Easter and it is the release of white below the waist! Damn, I’m really excited to go grocery shopping now.]

In all seriousness, the episode with the Date Soap got me thinking.  How much do I keep from myself waiting for Mr. Right to come along?  Let’s be real, I’m 36, single, no kids.  Y’all know I rant about the clock ticking.  I feel it nearly every day.  [Your little family photos and status about love tagging your mates on Facebook just rub it in, FYI. Could you all please stop having babies for a minute]. So the time to prepare is kinda, pretty much, yeah… it’s over.  You either take me as I come, or don’t single dudes.  [And, seeing as the Date Soap is starting to evaporate, I’m taking that as a “don’t”.]  There’s a list of things I’ve come up with that I haven’t done or don’t do waiting for this magical person who I think is going to want to spend the rest of the time we got left together.  I don’t buy furniture.  Well, for one, I’m lazy.  Two, I don’t have the money right now.  Three, I don’t really have a style or haven’t committed to a vision for my bedroom or living room yet.  But anywho, even if I did resolve all that, I don’t think I’d do it.  For years now, I keep thinking that I’ll meet a mate and we’ll end up merging households and then WE will buy furniture together.  [What I’m saying is that the broken chest of drawers is sticking it out until homeboy comes along.]

Another example, I don’t cook even though I’m capable.  When I came back from Italy I started making delightful dinners for myself.  Then my heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I didn’t want to think about Italy (except the wine).  And now that my world has entirely shifted, I work kinda intensely and it’s just easier to heat up a microwave dinner.  And I tell myself there’s no point in cooking homemade [let’s be clear, that mostly means opening a can or box and heating stovetop] meals for one person.  It’s so wasteful.  Or worse, you then end up eating the same meal for 3 days, 2 times a day!  But in the back of my mind there’s a girl whispering, “one day you’ll share a meal with someone again, don’t worry!”  Ha, she’s a tease.

I think this is the beginning of a long list of silliness.  Why wait?  Why wait for this mystery man?  I am already losing days, must they be surrounded by only mediocre soap, furniture, and the 2 Salisbury steak Banquet dinner [that is SO my favorite]?  Come on!  Besides, who wants to meet the crazy dog lady who smells like Tone, has broken furniture, and eats tv dinners?  Lawd, if that doesn’t scream “I’m a hot mess” what does?!  Oh lord, epiphany!  If I don’t use the Date Soap, I might not land a date!  Well, this is quite the conundrum now isn’t it.  Ok, look, I’m going to fetch tuna and individual cups of mashed potatoes [yes, that’s a meal] from Winn Dixie and work this out in my head.  Happy White Clothes Below the Waist Again Day!

p.s. Please don’t take me serious.  This is (mostly) humor.