It’s not a secret around here that it’s a terrible place for young (and youngish) single people. It’s almost impossible to meet someone, especially someone with any sense, and there’s no where to go to try. Coming from a big city like Atlanta, it can be very discouraging, and the deadness of the social scene is downright depressing. For the past couple years, I’ve been sitting patiently, avoiding dating anyway - so what of it.
But this morning, much to my surprise (thank God I wore my cute pants) – I found out where all the smart, good looking guys hang out.
Apparently, every four years they all come together in some ceremonial rite, passed down from generation to generation – bright eyed, and glowing in their sense of togetherness. They trail in and out of their gathering place like its some highly-clothed male revue stage, and nod politely to each other, avoiding any sobering discussion, happy to be where they are. It’s mid blowing how appealing this is for a girl like me. Someone who didn’t realize the social importance of this day. Someone who was anxious for it without even knowing it could mean meeting the man of her dreams.
So, I saunter proudly up to the crowd – blushing in my womanly pride, and begin my very best mating rituals. Leaning up against the large window frame, crossing my ankles below, I set my eyes on a particularly juicy one, and give him that “come hither, you hottie” look.
“Well hello there handsome, I’m a Libra, and a liberal. Are you ready for change?” He looks away and, obviously rushed for time, proceeds to talk about dogs with the guy next to him.
Fine. He must own guns or something.
Spotting another even better candidate, I make my move. He’s handing out some sort of propaganda, probably advocating something really sexy. I take the proffered pamphlet, and bat my eyelashes just a bit - so as not to be all, stupid-hooker like.
“So, you come here often? I’m voting “yes” on question 3. I love dogs…….”, giving him a little wink.
Unfortunately, he’s feverishly trying to share his wares with the people still spilling in through the double doors.
Okay. Not as easy as I thought.
I make my way slowly through the line, scanning the faces in front of me and behind me, sure that I’ll find some new love. Some well-informed guy that spends just enough time gleaning information from all the best sources, but not so much that he forgets to build muscle, and drink a beer or two.
Feeling a little discouraged, I do my duty, and start towards the door. There’s always next time after all.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn to find a tall man of good stature, the most beautiful puppy dogs eyes I’ve ever seen, and a neatly shaven swatch of hair on his chin that makes me wonder if it tickles when he kisses.
“Hello”, he says, “Your Woo-Hoo-Obama sticker seems to have fallen off. Here, let me put it back for you.”
I know at once he’s a closet Republican, but I say nothing, knowing damned well that sometimes opposites, and opposing parties, do attract.
ELECTION DAY! Don’t forget ladies – women and men have fought for our right to do it. (WOO-HOO!)