Single White Female

Single white female, 22, looking for... Damn it, looking takes effort. Let him come find me. It'll be like a game, like hide and go seek. Or kick the can? (Sounds a bit violent for love.) I don't think I ever really got the rules of that one down. There was this one game I was really good at. I mean really good. Ghost in the Graveyard, anyone? I used to attend a summer activity program in Bismarck called B.L.A.S.T. I believe it was coordinated by Bismarck Parks and Rec, or maybe the YMCA. We did artsy-crafty things, educational things, service learning things, teamwork things, and fitness things. Then we just did fun things. Ghost. In. The. Graveyard.

Sometimes we played it for several days in a row, sometimes it would just be once a week. In that case, it would be the highlight of my week. I almost always won. Like many adolescent games it began with one player "it" (the "ghost") and all the others pretending to be as stiff as death. Two rules: dead people had to have their eyes open and the ghost was not allowed to touch anybody. If the ghost got you to crack up, you in turn were also made a ghost. The game continued until one dead body remained - that was me. Now, a decade later, I feel it's safe to let the secret out. Sure, biting down on the insides of my cheeks until they bled was one way to keep from smiling. But I had a single phrase I repeated that instantly gave me nerves of steel. There, now you know. If I told you anymore I'd have to kill you, metaphorically speaking of course.

Now, if dating had rules, what would they be? Hopefully "no touching" isn't one of them. But I jest. Perhaps there are similarities between love and child's play. The one who's right for me, the one who's "it," may at this very moment be wandering the "graveyard," passing by one after another after a thousand other people as each one caves...cracks...crumbles. The he finds me. I'm the last one left in the darkened gymnasium. Sitting up tall, legs crossed in front of me, I'm staring straight ahead. You killed my rabbit, I murmur silently to myself because trembling lips fastly turn a corps into a ghost in this game. "Rebecca, the game's over. You won." Still, I don't budge an inch. They always say that right at the end to trick you into moving. I won't loose that stupidly.

He shrugs his shoulders and walks away across the linoleum, each footfall sounding more faint until he's just a silhouette in the bright playground light as the west door swings open heavily. It closes and the gym is cloaked once again in its graveyard twilight. I'm too skeptical sometimes.

I'm also too optimistic. It's like an ostrich who sticks her head in the sand but installs a skylight so she can still catch what's going on. The right one, should he exist, won't have to pry my fingers from their briefly clenched grip on singlehood. I will eventually let go. Maybe even sooner than I expected. Sometimes Ghost in the Graveyard would be over in 20 minutes. Sometimes it would take two whole hours. Though I won't need overwhelming evidence in his favor, I would advise him to have it ready just in case. If you meet him, tell him to take a seat on the cool gym floor, don't speak a word, and just look me straight in the eyes. I'll know then.

I've heard it said before that if a woman has anything at all she has her intuition. Amendment: single white female, 22, looking for an intuition. Apply within.

Appendix:

(Can blogs have an appendix?) Single white skeptical optimistic intuitive female, 22, looking for lean, athletic type with kind eyes and nice hands. Do you enjoy bathing regularly and wearing clean underwear? I'll love you forever. Men from single child families need not apply, you people have never had to share your toys as a kid and probably won't share them with me. Must be able to have intelligent discussions and must appreciate good music. Must love wine. You're allowed to be a city boy as long as you tolerates my adventures. I love the outdoors, although my greatest fear is being eaten by aquatic plant life. It's okay, you can laugh. Your smile will probably make you even more irresistible. Disclaimer: I am a neat freak. Don't freak out. I am violently disinterested in being romantic with any pot users (or any other "substances"). My greatest personal interests are reading and writing. Any man of mine must read seriously. Books are the world. Yes, I said it. Finally, the way to my heart might be flowers, sunsets, and surprises. But it's definitely love letters, lots and lots of love letters.