IN THE BUF: SHOOT THE STUPID CUPID

 

Society has always placed an unfair pressure on individuals indicating that we must be deeply involved in romantic relationships or something must be very, very, VERY wrong. We are hounded by our own mothers, grandmothers, aunts, friends and co-workers. “Sweetie; are you ever going to get – married?” or “You just can’t seem to find a man; bless your heart,” or the ever dreaded — “Well, you are no longer a spring chicken, my dear!” Ouch.

Having surrounded with myself with fabulous, intelligent, liberated girlfriends over the years (many in relationships and many single), I have learned that one way or another, without question, being involved with the wrong man is far worse that living an independent testosterone-free lifestyle.

Two of my best girlfriends, both absolutely fabulous, land on opposite sides of the spectrum with regard to this issue. Bonnie is a hopeful romantic and will go to any and all measures to find her soulmate. She watches The Notebook on a regular basis and is determined to have the large screen version of love in her life.

Kat, on the other hand, genuinely enjoys her life, privacy and freedom, so much so that she is allergic to anything other than a casual date with a boy toy every now and then. She is repulsed by the thought of being tied down to one man. Each year she sends flowers to herself and all of her single friends on Valentine’s Day, signed: SHOOT THE STUPID CUPID, LOVE YOU ALWAYS: KAT

These opposing dispositions make for most excellent Girl’s Night Out debates and conversations and I respect both sides of the argument, landing somewhere in the middle.

Bonnie would love nothing more than to have the identical relationship to her parents; who recently celebrated their fiftieth year anniversary. Her father still calls her mother “Pookie Bear” and she affectionately refers to him as “Suggie Boogie”. However, for whatever reasons, Bonnie is struggling in her efforts to find her “Suggie Boogie”; though not for lack of trying.

Last year, Bonnie signed up for E-LUV. As she broke the news to us during our weekly Girl’s Night Out, she was beaming with excitement about the hundreds of possible “perfect matches” that the online dating service would provide. She explained that based upon the questionnaire she filled out, an almost scientific approach would help her find multiple options. They would supply her with photos and contact information on all of the men that fit her soulmate requirements. 

“ZERO!” She said the following week. “Huh?” We replied. “You heard me,” she spat back while sucking down her strawberry margarita. “ZERO — ZERO — ZERO!!!!! Not ONE damn match for me in the whole city of Lexington, Kentucky, apparently! Seriously? According to E-LUV, that has never happened in the history of the company.”

Two days later we all got a text from Bonnie stating . . . “E-LUV FOUND A MATCH. DATE FRIDAY NIGHT. HIS PIC LOOKS AWESOME AND HE SEEMS REALLY NICE!!!! WE’VE BEEN CHATTING!”

I was hopeful that Saturday, Bonnie would report that the date was nothing less than wonderful.

“So, how did it go?” we asked excitedly. “Well!” she replied sharply.

“He was as defintely handsome as his picture. But before our salads were even delivered he stated that he had a confession; she went on to report, “He looked me fairly and squarely in my eyes and said: ‘You need to know something about me . . . umm, well . . . I have very serious anger management issues — yeah; I could pretty much snap at any given time.’” He went on to tell her that he still lived with his folks (42 years old) and that his alcoholism seemed to be working itself out.

Needless to say, she paid the tab, went home, and ate a tub of turtle chunk ice cream.

Kat was having a field day reminding poor Bonnie that this was a prime example of why she doesn’t mess with this nonsense.

“SHOOT THE STUPID CUPID” my dear, Kat said. “And don’t dread Valentine’s Day. Loving yourself is the best thing you will ever do. And you are no longer a spring chicken, my dear.” Ouch.


Posted on 2012-02-27 by Buffy Lawson
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