Tag Archives: single

Why I Don’t Have a Stalker

Hello again.

I’m trying to deal with some issues in a “healthier” way than I want to, so I’m writing, but not about those things. Maybe I’ll write about those things in the next couple weeks if I don’t think it will bore everyone. We’ll see. I’m feeling wordy.

But right now it’s the weekend, and  not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I have a hot date with the shovel. Oh yes. I’m told I could get a good six inches, but then again, those things are always exaggerated. 


Or so I’m told.

The only dating I do is reading expiration dates on food.

Anyway, I don’t have a hot date and I don’t have a stalker. Why? Because I’m 154 percent sure that I would bore him to death after about two days.

During the week, my days are basically the same and involve the same route and the same activities. The weekends are similar, minus the drive to work and the occasional TV appearance that at no point included paparazzi or security guards—except to drag me off the set.

Pretty much knowing where I’m going to be might appear to be the formula for a stalker, but trust me. If parts of my Twitter feed lately are any indication, you can see why they would move on to someone with a social life beyond jilted geriatrics and gang-banging birds.

I think I’m safe.

  • For the record, it’s entirely possible to fall up the stairs completely sober. Multiple times.
  • Never ask yourself, “Could I make a bigger mess?” as you will promptly find out that yes, in fact, you can. At least if you’re me.
  • I need the Dog Whisperer to teach Chauncey how to not pee into the wind.
  • It’s kind of amazing how quickly I go from “nothing sounds good” to “why isn’t there more of this to eat?”
  • Today I’m going to replace the word “the” with “le” for awhile. Example: “A piece of le cereal just fell out of my bra.” Sounds classier.
  • Someone found my blog with “Abby + Gordon Ramsay = fuzzy pink gnome tiara” so I have that going for me.
  • Going to Walmart at 6am on the way to work saves the annoying people factor. However, you can’t brag about/show off your teeth. It’s a push.
  • Just spent 10 mins playing, “What the hell did I write on that Post-It?” I think I’m inventing my own language, written only in characters.
  • I’m still wondering if I will ever look at a man as passionately as I look at just about anything with pesto.
  • I think I killed my fake tree.
  • Going to write a novel about a young, successful, beautiful woman who achieves great things. What’s the opposite of an autobiography called?
  • I can’t be sure, but I think there’s some sort of winter bird gang initiation ceremony going on under my bird feeder.
  • Simon says: Shovel, food, couch, hockey game, food, football game, shovel, couch, food, repeat.
  • I actually moved things when I vacuumed today, so I’m basically some sort of cleaning Superhero now.
  • I didn’t win Miss America or a Golden Globe this weekend, but I did manage to watch football & catch up on “How I Met Your Mother.” I win.
  • Despite numerous verbal threats, this bug keeps lunging towards me. I obviously have a very brave adversary. This may take awhile.
  • My uncle called because he was at the bookstore and couldn’t find my book. It turns out he was looking for “Abby is Crazy.” Close enough.
  • Tonight’s quote from the old people’s home: “He might have left me for a woman 25 years younger, but that didn’t make his peter any younger. Have fun with that pickle, missy.”

Now keep in mind that these aren’t all my tweets or anything. I do actual stuff that goes undocumented. I also only tweet from my computer and not phone, therefore reducing the stalker potential even more.

But if you are so inclined to proceed with stalking, please bring a shovel and at least make yourself useful. If I decide to break out the fuzzy pink gnome tiara, I’ll let you know so you can jump back in the bushes.

Just watch out for the gang-banging birds.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

(I encourage this kind of stalking.)

Single in the suburbs

Apparently, some people have a problem with this.

Mind you these are most likely the same people who are in a relationship built on convenience with expectations for someone else to “complete” them and fill in the gaps, usually resulting in disappointment with a dash of resentment thrown in.

Or they’re just nosy.

Either way, some people have a problem with other people being single. I can understand it when the “older” generation expresses confusion over hearing that someone my age is choosing to be single. Most of them married young, and while in love, it was also a strategic and expected move for financial and generational security. Heck, if you didn’t have kids, who would work on the farm?

But even today, most of society expects both men and women to get married, preferably before age 30 and have at least two children (one boy, one girl.) Being single is seldom seen as a choice, but rather the result of bad luck or crappy effort. Being alone is more often seen as boring, depressing, negative and a condition to remain in for only a short period of time.

Kind of like the flu.

To shorten this period of self-imposed spinsterhood, single women are supposed to date with regularity. If they don’t have a full dance card or at least a couple horror stories each month, people seem to take that as a go-ahead sign to join together the only two single people they know in an unfortunate event called a “blind date.”

Every time I get my hair cut, my hairdresser asks me, “So, are you seeing anyone special?” When I tell her no (just a whole bunch of unspecial people, ha ha) she will giggle conspiratorially–with scissors in hand, mind you. She will then proceed to tell me about another single client that would be perfect for me. Considering we have a 20-minute conversation every five weeks, I’m sure she’s more than qualified to make that judgment.

I smile until she puts down the sharp objects.

Don’t get me wrong! I appreciate the concern expressed by couples everywhere when they find out I pay my own mortgage, sleep alone in my bed or have no bridal registry to send them so they can go buy me a set of towels or a wok. It’s just that I don’t really see what’s so wrong with being single in the suburbs.

When you’re single, you can do what you want, when you want, with whom you want without having to answer to anyone. It allows you time to quietly sit and attempt to complete a thought, clean your house naked without worrying your partner’s friends will walk in and to never have to worry about the position of the toilet seat.

Being single also forces you to clean, (kind of) decorate, take an unnatural interest in home improvement stores, plan your own meals and activities, keep yourself entertained and take responsibility for paying your bills.

You can become intoxicated on the smell of a man’s cologne as he walks by without getting the evil eye (unless it’s from his girlfriend…or boyfriend.)

And if you have a headache, you don’t need to pack your bags for a guilt trip.

Is there anything wrong with being in a relationship? Of course not, and I would be remiss if I didn’t add that I do miss the companionship sometimes. With a partner you have a built-in confidant/therapist, baseball-watching buddy and standing weekend date. If both parties share the same values, goals and commitment towards once another, it can be spectacular. For this to happen, they also have to be okay with being alone.

In my opinion, the whole point of a relationship should be to share yourself with another person. The point shouldn’t be to try and get from someone what you think you’re lacking in yourself. For some reason, people often find this concept hard to grasp.

I am not one of them.

I’m okay with being single and can handle the quizzical looks and questions, even patiently explaining that I will in fact survive without someone to boot off my end of the couch. If it happens? Great. If it doesn’t? That just means I enjoy the middle of the bed a little more.

Apparently, some people have a problem with this.

I am not one of them.

What’s the best part about being in a relationship for you? Do you ever miss being single?


If you’re single, are you okay with it or always searching?