Not of the chocolate variety.

The thing about having a sanitation engineer as your gentleman caller is that you can’t shake him particularly easily. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he is at your front door, disposing of the waste in your dumpster, and waiting for you to return from the gym/depart for your absolutely necessary coffee run/rush out and confess your true love for him.

And the worst part about this quasi-creepy caller is that your mother and roommates will mock you incessantly about it. “At least he’s an engineer, ” they will exclaim as you recount the tale of the Wednesday floral disaster. The day he waited behind a recycling bin with a bouquet of roses. The day you nearly peppersprayed him to death when he jumped out from behind the recycling bin and reaffirmed his willingness to marry you then and there, and in spite of your Caucasian affiliation.

They will pause and say, “Well at least you know you’re single now by choice, rather than because some cosmic force is weighing down upon you.” And that will be after the sanitation engineer stops by on Friday to drop off his “Rico Suave” mix cd. And after you respond, “Do people even make mix cds anymore? That’s so 2000, or something.”

And finally when they follow up on Monday and say, “Marry him already, and be done with the societal pressures of finding the One!” This declaration will be precipitated  by the sanitation engineer’s vanilla cupcake offering, which he brings because he “suspected you [like him] were not of the chocolate variety.”

Yes, the worst part about being pseudo-single is that all the people who’ve heard you kvetch for months on end– both in person and in blog form– about your plight in singledom will have no sympathy for your creepy caller. Instead, they will use him as a prime example of your choice to embrace your inner independent woman. They will remind you that you are capable of being both attractive and attracting, and that it is you who chooses to deny others the option of entering in. It is you who are going back on your word to embrace your big V. And it is you– and only you– who has the power to change the course of your non-existent romantic history.



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