Needing Love...

The fact is that most single people want to be married. We long for it. We agonize over the hows and whys we haven’t found that special someone to commit to. But we can’t force it. We can’t make it happen. And we tire of the seemingly endless tirade of well-wishing couples that give us advice.

The whole “I wasn’t looking for it when I found it” type story is one of the most annoying. RIGHT! The majority of my single girlfriends will join me in a hearty laugh at that idea. It’s not something you can turn off. We singles think about it all too often. Unless we live in a bubble or a vacuum, we’re surrounded by paired off people in the malls, the church, work, etc.

Or the young 20-something who feels compelled to tell you to trust GOD like she did. I mean she had to wait exactly a year after finishing college before she met the man of her dreams. Can you imagine—she waited 12 whole months on her own!! Amazing, isn’t it? I’d like her to step into the shoes of a 30 or 40-something-never-been-married woman for a few weeks and see if her perspective changes. Waiting for 12 months isn’t quite the same thing as someone who has waited for 5, 10, 20 years or more.

Stepping back out of the sarcasm, I’m glad that my 20-something friend has so much optimism. It’s refreshing. I hope she is able to maintain it, and I’m trying to learn from her that there is always something good to pull out of everything. And as for my other friends that have shared their stories on how GOD surprised them with a significant other when they were least expecting it, well, I’m glad it worked out that way for them. I am. I find their stories fascinating, but their life story isn’t mine. GOD doesn’t work in cookie cutter fashion.

I think that people need to be careful when trying to encourage the singles in their lives.

You’ll be next, dear. Such a heartfelt platitude, isn’t it? Do you know how many times we’ve heard that? If I had a dime for every time I heard that, well, let's just say that maybe I'd be searching for a mail order groom. AHEM!

Just when you stop looking, GOD will bring him along. Show me how to stop looking, short of joining a convent, and I’ll give it a try. I’ve started thinking that the only way to turn off my desire for marriage would be to join a convent. There away from the world of men, I think I might finally be able to stop thinking about what it would be like to meet the man of my dreams.

Don’t tell us what you think we want to hear. Don’t pamper our egos. Don’t expect us to always be cheery about our single status just as you aren’t always thrilled with being married either. Just be a friend as we want to be your friends. Be real with us, and we’ll be real with you.

From time to time, we’ll need a hug to get through another Valentine’s Day on our own or yet another bad first date. Just as you will need a hug from a friend when your husband is away on business or you’ve had a bad day at work. Whether single or married, we need each other!

I heard a pastor friend of mine once say, “We all need more love than we deserve.” I find this more true every year. We all long for love. And while my need for love grows, I hope I can grow in giving it year to year, too.

Just call me Chicken...

Over the last couple of months, I’ve been getting a lot of calls from one of our sites in Canada from the same guy. He’s always calling to talk to one of my attorneys who never seems to be avaiable, and so the calls bounce over to me. Usually, I just put him into voicemail, but lately, we’ve started joking and just making conversation. You know how it is when you talk to the same person on the phone A LOT, and so eventually you start to feel like you know that person.

Well, this week, he was here in our office, and he had threatened to drop in on me and meet me face-to-face. I confess I was slightly eager to meet him as well. No strings mind you, I just knew he seemed like a decent guy on the phone. I didn’t have any romantic ideas about him, mind you—this was just a curiosity thing.

Well, today he called from another floor in our site and so I knew he was actually here. I heard him arrive in my attorney’s office (around the corner from me) and I just had to get a peek, and so I walked over that direction to the copy room and nonchalantly glanced into the office.

He was there all right—in all his hotness. I was tempted to go and introduce myself, but I snuck back to my office. I was thankful that my office is not right next to my attorney’s so that we didn’t have to meet. I don’t know a thing about him. I don’t know if he’s married or not, straight or gay, etc. All I know is that a man like that would have me stammering and making a complete fool of myself in 10 seconds flat. It’s best to just leave things as they stand and keep the mystery! Besides, maybe he won’t notice the drool over the phone…

A Fine Farewell...

A friend and co-worker of mine recently was witness to the power of a loving goodbye, and when she shared the story with me, I confess I shed a tear or two myself. My friend was there in the hospital room as her dying father-in-law bid farewell to his wife of some 60 years. He was recently diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and less than a week later, he was fighting for each breath. For just a few hours before his passing, he was lucid enough to say his goodbyes.

His wife sat next to him as he told her that he had loved her since the moment he first laid eyes on her, and that every day with her had been a delight. As he lay there in the hospital bed, he gave her a final signed Valentine card a few days early, and she laid her head down on the pillow next to him and asked him if he wanted to snuggle. He smiled, and they snuggled for a few minutes. Within a few short hours, he was gone.

This story really touched me. I think in this world of divorce and broken relationships, I find it incredible that true love does exist, and it’s better than in the movies. That couples in their mid-80’s are even more in love than they were when they married all those years ago. It’s a beautiful thing, and it has reinforced the idea that it is possible to love one person ‘til death do you part. That’s what I want...and I don't want to settle for anything less.

Today is Valentine's Day--a day that I usually dread. It's sometimes too much to bear to be surrounded in a world of paired off people and feel like the odd girl out. I usually want to hide and bury myself away. But today, somehow I feel differently. Maybe I don't that love of my own that I've dreamed of, but I have the love of dear friends that mean the world to me. I have the love of a most beloved sister who never ceases to remember me on Valentine's Day. Today I feel loved, and I can't but help give it back rather than horde it away. May each of you feel loved today as well.

Holding onto Hope...

1 day until V-Day or what we singles refer to as Single Awareness Day—you know the day where the rest of the world pays homage to love and being loved while we singles tend to wonder how anybody is meeting anybody else these days and gorge ourselves on ice cream and chocolate. [HA! OK, so maybe that’s not other singles—maybe it’s just me! Hey, can you pass the chocolate syrup please?]

I’m still struck with how people meet. I’m compelled to be curious about this topic. I find it’s the question that most puzzles me. I ask it when I meet new couples all the time. This stuff just doesn’t happen to me.

No guy has ever approached me in the super market. I mean, I think one guy was following me once, but I’ve watched a lot of movies and shows like Alias, and it has me always looking over my shoulder anyway. [Not that my Tae Bo kick would do me much good, but I like to pretend I’m ready to take on the world, you know.] Oh and then one time a lady in the checkout lane in front of me seemed to be hitting on me! That was awkward for this straight girl.

All in all, I think I’m a pretty approachable person. I like to smile at perfect strangers. I do it all the time. I think a smile can change the course of humanity if we’d only use it more…but so far it has yet to get me one date!

No guy has ever come up to me in a bar or a restaurant and said, “How you doing?” [OK, maybe I’d prefer that he’d work on a bit more dignified intro as opposed to the Joey Tribbiani opener, but hey, at this point, I’m not sure I’d be so selective. I’m 32, you know. Tick Tock!] I’m baffled by the fact that people are hooking up this way.

Granted I’m no Barbie, but then the Kens of this world don’t really appeal to me either, but either way, no one has of yet approached me when I was out with friends and started hitting on me. And even though, I’ve met some interesting men, and I do believe there are still good men available, I’m quite often stung by the apparent contradiction from what men are saying they are looking for and what they seek out in the big wide world there.

Men say they want…
a woman who can think for herself
a woman who can discuss fine literature and poetry
a woman who appreciates the arts, music and culture
a woman who enjoys good food and good company
a woman who has diverse interests outside of theirs (like photography, travel, etc.)
a woman that listens, pays attention to detail and wants to participate in their life
a woman who can make them laugh and isn’t afraid to laugh at herself.

Yes, this all sounds good. At this point, my interest is piqued, and I’m ready to wave a white flag and say…“Hello, I’m right here. I’m the one.”

BUT there’s a disclaimer that men in general add on…it isn’t always in writing or isn’t even discussed, but their actions speak volumes. They want to add the restriction that this thinker, this unique and fascinating creature that they are longing to meet and looking for has to fit into a size 2 frame. Ahhhh, therein lies the rub!!! Oh, I’m a size 2 alright. Try 22!

I’ve often wondered that maybe some of us have more personality than can fit into a size 2 jeans? I think I’ve been in double digits since junior high. I think I jumped right from 14 girl size into a woman’s size 12. (And now, I’d kill to be a size 12…well figuratively anyway!) All in all, I think I have a pretty big personality…I love so many different things, and I have a bazillion different interests, and I’m expanding them every year. Photography, travel, ballets and symphonies, hiking and camping, plays and theatres, architecture and old buildings, nieces and nephews, castles and England, chocolate and ice cream, card making and scrapbooking, history and geneaology…and the list goes on.

Somehow I think that no matter whether I return to that size 12 or not, I imagine that there just might be my own special someone still out there. A man who will love me for who I am rather than the size of clothing I wear. Someone I can grow old with, travel with, share a life with and laugh with. He’s out there…he’s probably taken already or pursuing a size 0 as we speak, but maybe he’ll work his way up, and he’ll come round one day. I can’t quite let go of my hope in the maybes of life yet. It might be dangerous to still carry hope, but somehow I think it might be more dangerous to not have any…

As C.S. Lewis once wrote: “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Wedding Invitations

About 2 months ago, one of my co-workers approached me about making her wedding invitations. She knew that I liked to make greeting cards, etc. and figured I could handle an order for invitations.

I was flattered but a bit intimidated. I mean wedding invitations are pretty special, and I didn’t know quite what she was expecting, but I did develop a couple of templates for her to look at. And the good news was that the bride loved them.

She asked for more time to think things over and discuss it with her fiancée, and so I waited to hear back. Finally about 10 weeks out from the March wedding, she called and said that they had decided to have a very small wedding and weren’t going to need wedding invitations, but they were considering having announcements made up for later this spring. So the pressure was off, and I didn’t have a deadline hanging over my head.

Well, last week at just under 8 weeks out, the bride came to see me and said that she and her fiancée had changed their minds. They were going to have a larger wedding after all, and she was going to need 100 invitations. I gulped. I mean, I’m not a full resource printer here. I don’t have equipment to mass produce something very quickly, and so I knew I was going to be running tight on time. So I explained that we might be a bit pressed for time, but she still wanted me to make her invitations.

However, she kept changing her mind about everything. One day, she’d want one thing, and then later that afternoon, she’d have a completely different plan. The next day, she would have another suggestion for me to look into. Could we use a cheaper cardstock? What about a different ribbon color? Could I also make an RSVP card as well? By the end of last week (at 7 weeks out this past Saturday), I still didn’t have anything finalized. Time was running out, and then there was also the fact that I wasn’t sure I could find enough of the paper in time to make them once she did finalize it, and there was no time to order more directly. Not to mention the pricing—she thought my prices were high. I thought my prices were low. I was giving her a huge break and was basically just covering the costs of the supplies, but still she thought it was pricy.

Then finally over the weekend, she called with her decision. Of course, it just so happened that this past weekend was one of my busiest, and I didn’t have a moment to even think about working on the invitations, but at last I knew what she wanted. But I came into work on Monday, and she had left me another message and was changing the type of paper and going with a completely different invitation. At least I hadn’t started them yet or bought any of the supplies, and so it wasn’t really too late to change things around one more time, but it was still hard to keep my attitude in check.

Last night I purchased the supplies and got everything ready to start a home assembly line in my apartment, and so that is my plan for this evening and the rest of my free moments for the week—I’ll be home mass-producing 100 homemade wedding invitations. I’m hoping to get them to the bride on Friday. Fingers crossed!! I’m excited about it, and I’m hoping that the results will meet the bride’s expectations. But as thrilling as it is to work on something new, this has also been a big learning experience.

Notes to self:

1. Charge a creative fee to develop templates for the couples to choose from and work with as templates. If they don’t like what you’ve come up with, at least you are being paid for the time you’ve already put into it.
2. At the time the order is placed, collect 25% to 50% of the fees for the invitations up front. You need to have money to buy the supplies for the cards before you make them.
3. Consider having a contract that both parties sign to guarantee both my work and their payments. It’s smart to follow the CYA principle. Be prepared.
4. Have the invitation details finalized from the bride and groom at least 4 weeks before the invitations need to be mailed (traditionally at 6 weeks from the big day). No matter what excuse the bride has, she needs to know that if she can’t get you the information you need in time, you can’t make her deadline.
5. Institute a RUSH fee for last minute invitations. Also consider an add-on charge for additional changes after the invitation template has been finalized. It’s only fair. Deadlines are needed for a reason!

Just Friends for a Reason...

It had been a while since I had met up with my friend Bob. We’re both big vampire movie buffs. Movies like Underworld and Blade are pretty special to us, and so with the new Underworld: Evolution movie out, we scheduled time to meet up for dinner and a movie.

We met up at his place. I wanted to see the house he had bought, and so I got the grand tour, and then he drove us to dinner. Dinner started out a bit odd. He had asked me what I was going to order, and I told him—thinking he was just curious. Macaroni Grill is one of my favorite Italian eateries in the city, and I almost always get the same thing, and I eagerly anticipate each visit.

Well, when the waitress came to take our orders, he piped up and said, “She’ll have the pasta milano.” I almost choked on my bread. I really am fine about doing my own ordering, after all this wasn’t a date. OK, maybe this is a cultural thing. Bob is from Taiwan, and this was the first time we’d had dinner on our own together. Maybe men in Taiwan normally order for the women at the table? I wasn't sure, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And then the waitress said looking right at me, “And did you want a salad with that?”

Bob said, “No. No salad today.” That did it. I reached for my water glass and chugged some water down before I starting spitting and sputtering. OK, he was right, I didn’t want salad, but I hadn’t told him that. What if I had wanted salad? I almost contradicted him and ordered a salad out of spite. But I didn’t. I maintained my composure and politely smiled and decided not to make a big deal of it.

The rest of dinner was fine. We talked about his church, his lady friend, his job, and I caught him up on what was going on in my life, too. Things were back to normal, and we were chit-chatting it up like we always have. I had nearly forgotten the whole speaking for me incident.

Then our waitress brought the bill, and of course, she had put it all on one check. And why wouldn’t she have! It made sense. He ordered for me, he answered for me, and so naturally she thought he was paying for me, too. But no, Bob handed the check back to her and asked her to split the check up. That was fine by me. I had fully expected to pay for my own meal, but the whole thing kind of made me chuckle. If I were a different woman, I might have been very confused. I would have been interpreting very mixed signals. The man jumps in and orders for me without asking me if that’s all right, and then he wants to split the check.

Now, I love Bob dearly. He’s a good friend, and I wouldn’t change him for the world, but there are several reasons that we’ve never been more than friends...