Feeling sassy and cute with my second-day "going out" hair (ladies you know what I'm talkin' about... the kind of hair that looks tousled and voluminous - like you didn't sleep alone last night! Don't worry Mom and Dad, Chloe the dog is the only one I cuddled with), I enter a surprisingly crowded Starbucks in Willoughby. Of course I order my usual: Grande Non-fat Caramel Macchiato - I am a creature of habit.
My macchiato and I find a quaint table for two with Frank Sinatra (love my coffee with a shot of rat pack). My initial scan reveals a cute girl with her laptop and many text books (boy I wish we had wireless when I was in college!), couples who look like they've just come from church, and a few older gentlemen reading their newspapers. Slim pickin's today in the cute 30-something guy market! But I have sassy hair, good reading material and a great latte so I'm cool.
A blond bombshell walks in with her "don't you hate that I woke up looking this good" look, and suddenly I'm not feeling cute nor sassy. "This is why I'm single," I think... because girls like that ruin it for the rest of us. But am I really single because girls like that exist, or because of the way I feel about myself when I see them? Probably the later, I'm assuming... note to self: I might not look like that, but I look natural and that's a good thing. No joke, no sooner had I come to this new revelation and Aretha Franklin belts out "You make me feel like a natural woman." How apropo.
Just when I think I'm not going to observe anything interesting, I realize that a blind date is taking place right before my very eyes at the table about 8 feet away. They are approximately in their late 40's. I don't overhear how they met but my guess is match.com - that seems to be the default these days. He is wearing a sweatshirt (wtf?) and she is wearing a very nice sparkly top (probably not right for Starbucks but she more than likely bought it specifically for this date in her excitement - I've been there). They're exchanging the usual chit-chat (family, jobs, etc.) and she is soooo not into him. In fact, she looks a tad disappointed. She goes to the restroom and doesn't come back for 10 minutes. Not a good sign buddy. I've been to this Starbucks, many times, and there's never ever a long line in the women's room. It's not a concert, it's Starbucks.
When she returns, she says she needs to get going and he asks to see her again. Her response: "ummmm... I don't know, maybe. But thanks for the coffee." I think I just heard his heart snap in two. He gets up and shakes her hand... a HAND SHAKE? Wow, this is worse than I thought! And of course, he shocks her with such a strong bolt of static electricity that I heard it. Yikes! He then makes a ridiculously cheesy comment about her being electrifying... Dude... Really? This is why you're single. She nervously laughs and looks at me like, "help!" I shoot her a knowing smile from behind my macchiato, because again, I've so been there. And I realize I'm not alone. There are millions of great single women everywhere. With this insight and new sense of hopefulness, I head to the mall to treat myself to some fabulous goodies from Victoria's Secret.