“Yeah, Lindsay, can you believe The Patch is going to give me my own dating column!? Imagine me writing about being single and 20-something and fabulous?” I giggle, as I shovel another wooden spoonful of risotto into my mouth. I was standing over my stovetop, eating scalding hot butternut squash risotto out of the pot. There’s no need to dirty a plate on a Friday night.
I had just returned from my meeting with The Editor of the Branford Patch. We met for coffee, but since I gave coffee up for Lent, I opted for a Strawberry “French soda” – think Italian soda with cream in it. The meeting far exceeded my greatest expectations (which isn’t saying much since I didn’t really know what to expect in the first place, but I always have pretty high expectations).
At first, I thought I had botched the whole thing.
I showed up late (Epic, unprofessional fail, but I had to find black tights or the outfit would have been ruined – so it boiled down to a judgement call between being on time and dressing for success – plus, me being late probably doesn’t surprise anyone….ever…)
I wanted to make up for lost time so I immediately launched into stories about my dating life.
About half an hour into the conversation, she exclaimed, “My God, you are crazy!”
I nodded. (And thought: Whoa, it took you half an hour to figure that out?)
I continued talking. I was like a dating story train wreck – you could tell she couldn’t look away from my verbal paintings of painfully awkward situations stacking one on top of the other. It was like watching cars pile up on the interstate. You hated to see it, but you couldn’t look away. Shock and Awe.
Then, things got interesting. She offered me a column! My jaw dropped.
She said, “At first, I was just looking to do a feature on the date you had last Sunday. It’s funny as hell that you met this guy speed dating. But, would you just like to have your own column?”
are-you-freaking-kidding-me (breath) do-you-even-need-to-ask (breath) who-in-their-right-mind-would-pass-something-like-that-up (breath) quick-I-need-a-better-word-for-yes (breath)
“Yes.” I said. SAY MORE THAN THAT.
“Yes, absolutely! I would love too! Wow, I mean, what girl didn’t want to grow up to be the next Carrie Bradshaw?” you should have just left it at “yes.”
Then, we talked about my column. My introductory article is due to her on Wednesday. If it’s good, she’ll start running my column every other Sunday. If it takes off and I have time in my schedule, we’ll look at doing it every Sunday.
Was that just a dream that came true?
We talked for 2 hours. I said something about needing to go home for the dog. Really, I didn’t want her to see me FREAKOUT and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold myself together. There were so many good feelings. So much energy and excitement. I needed to yell, laugh, dance, scream, jump, pace my house, do something! My poor Writing Mentor got the brunt of it – he was the first person I told. He tried numerous times to bring me down in octave and volume so that I was speaking at a decibel suitable for the human ear, vice a squeal that was causing dog’s ears to bleed throughout Branford and neighboring towns.
I called almost everyone in my contact list (I left the pharmacy and Thai restaurant out of the first round of notifications that night…) By the time I got ahold of Lindsay, I was drunk on the very idea of writing a dating column and totally starving. So, I made risotto while we talked.
“You know, Lindsay, I just realized something,” I said between mouthfuls of gooey sticky rice, “Kyle breaking up with me was the very best thing that ever happened to me!”
She laughed, “FINALLY, you see it!”
“It’s true. I mean, if we were still together, we’d be getting married next month. And, even though I was happy with him, there was no way that I would ever be as happy as I am right now at this very second. And I wouldn’t be so happy if I was not single and fabulous enough to get a column!”
Lindsay let loose a sigh of relief. I think she had been waiting to hear me say that (and mean it) for awhile.
But, I didn’t stop there. I kept on talking (as I do…) “And you know what? This feels so good. It is better and more satisfying than sex with Kyle ever was! HOLY SHIT! That’s it, being single and having a dating column is better than sex with my Ex. I think that really says something!”
Lindsay agreed (or at least I think she did, it was hard to tell what she was saying since she was laughing so hard.)
Now, I just need my “headshot picture” for the column:
Of course, I guess this means I’ll have to stay on the market for awhile to get some good articles published…..and if I love it, I might have to be on Le figurative market forever….