Waiting for my poppyseed-bagel

Every heterosexual girl should have at least one entirely metrosexual male friend. I am fortunate to have one, who I refer to as the Conductor. His train, unfortunately for me, has chugged all the way to the Holy Land. But being that it is the 21st Century and all, we are still able to communicate on the regular.

In our latest exchange, I informed him I would be interviewing a Southern rapper for a piece I would be writing on hip hop and its role in modern day politics. And then I paused, letting him soak in the magnitude of that juicy tidbit. After that brief introduction, I changed the subject to something I really truly cared about– my perpetual bout of singledom.

His response– paraphrased– was as follows: Yaffa, do you want to be a relationship, or, is there someone specific you want to be a relationship with? It struck him that I had a meta-preference for a relationship, but no particular individual with whom to share said relationship. I was kind of like the girl at the edge of the bridge, watching her friends make the huge leap into the river below, and wondering if her friends jump off a bridge, should she join? My gut, it’s better to appear like a suicide case than to actually commit suicide. (Not that I’m comparing relationships to death, or anything).

I realized then that the Conductor had a point. Lord knows I’d been to my share of Doxy weddings over the last four years, and not once had I left thinking, “G-d, I wish I were the bride.” In fact, I tended to focus on the rather poor musical selections made for the bride and groom dance. Iyaz’s “Replay,” really? Elton John’s “Circle of Life,” seriously?

But I also knew that while I wasn’t looking for a wedding, I was searching for someone to show the slightest bit of affection towards me. However, the Conductor had an answer for that as well– a bagel analogy.

Being single, he said, is not like being in a bagel shop. You can’t buy the everything-bagel just because there’s no poppyseed-bagels out right now, and you don’t want to be standing there, hungry and without your daily dose of carbohydrates. You suck it up and work on being excellent and go to different bagel-shops so that when the baker gets the poppyseeds out of the oven “you’re on them like, well, like poppyseeds on a bagel.”
Moses, he’s good. He also happens to be right. I am at a point in my life when I can focus on living in the moment and being the best possible me I can be. And with a strong support system comprised of family, friends, and caffeine, I might actually be excellent someday. Hopefully, though, when that someday rolls around, I’ll also be chowing down on a delicious freshly baked poppyseed-bagel with lox and a schmear.

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