Single White Nerd: Snarklegrump Feels a Glimmer of Hope
a new blogumn by Michael Kass
Hi. I’m Mike. Happy to be here. I am nerdy, hear me roar!
And now, time for a confession: Friends—I don’t know much about blogging. Nothing, really. What I do know is this:
This habitually downcast and cynical snarklegrump feels a glimmer of hope. Maybe it’s the Obama inaugural. Maybe it’s the summer time temperatures that have driven women to don their flowy dresses (Hallelujah!). Or maybe it’s those pretty pills a co-worker slipped onto my desk earlier today with a wink and smile. Whatever the reason, I’m in an uncharacteristically positive frame of mind.
And it is in this frame of mind that my thoughts turn to singlehood. The state of being single. Chronically single, in my particular case. Everywhere I look, images tell me that being single is wrong.
Single? Lonely? Buy this deodorant and your gender of preference will literally lick your entire body.
Buy that car!
Best date movie of the year!
Single? Maybe you’re a serial killer!
And so on.
Usually, I take it. “You’re right,” I say to society (aka The Man), “Being single sucks. I am lonely and miserable. My pillow is drenched with tears.” Then I whip out my trusty harmonica and toot some blues.
But today is different. Today I will defy The Man. Today, I take The Man by the scruff of the neck and turn him around. “Look over there,” I say gesturing to the corner of the coffee house where I’m currently hunched over a soon-to-expire laptop.
A man and a woman sit across from each other. She looks great. He looks great. They’re having a conversation. Their body language screams “self-consciously relaxed.” This is a first date.
He says something. She laughs and leans forward, her hand resting briefly on his arm.
Will they go home together tonight? Will they become a couple? Raise a family? Grow old together and reminisce about that time they met at the coffee house and the creepy guy with a beat up, refurbished IBM Thinkpad stared at them as he tippy tapped away?
Here’s what I say to The Man: Being single is a condition full of potential, constantly poised on the verge of explosion in any number of directions. Maybe it’s about finding those moments, the jumping off places from which anything is possible.
I finish and clap The Man on the back. He scoffs. He can’t help it. It’s what he does. But at this moment, in this coffee house–I know that I’m right.
I think I’m right. Maybe I’m right. I’ll ponder it tonight as I curl up with a pack of Ho Ho’s and a bottle of Jack Daniels to keep me company as I cry my way through Wall-E and sniff my new body spray.