People in relationships can’t fathom what single men do with their time. If they can make an event, surely you can. Sean Carney explains.
Originally published on TheWittyGritty.com.
A friend recently invited me to a dinner party.
“It’s on Saturday. We’d love if you could make it.”
“Who is we?”
“Me and Katie.”
“Nope, she hates me.”
“You pissed on her cat.”
“The bathroom was locked, what should I have done?”
“I dunno, maybe not piss on her cat? You can’t wait five minutes?”
“It was dark out, so I went in the yard. Who ever heard of a cat with glaucoma? And didn’t you say it died recently anyway?”
“Last spring. Come to dinner.”
“I can’t make it.”
“I just can’t. I have plans.”
“What could you possibly be doing?”
People in relationships can’t fathom what single people do with their time. No reason is good enough to compete with their busy lives and if they can make an event, surely you can.
“I DVR’d the second season of ‘Game of Thrones.’”
“So now I have to watch every episode. Again.”
“Just watch them later.”
“I can’t. I have to go buy Drano on Sunday.”
“And that takes an entire day?”
They also can’t understand why the simple act of purchasing exotic items—like Drano, or candles, or olive oil—requires intense planning, and is usually precipitated by an immediate need for that item—like your toilet overflowing, or forgetting to pay your electric bill for four months, or whatever people use olive oil for.
“We can hang out some other time.”
“It’s not that easy, okay? We have a baby.”
They say this as if you’d asked a blind person to go bird watching. Babies are an unquestionable excuse to get out of any occasion. Sure, little Timmy has a 104 degree fever, but when you can’t do something because you threw your only pair of pants at a pigeon outside your window and they fell into a dumpster and the homeless guy who lives there is now wearing them, suddenly you are the one without a good enough reason.
“Dude, I’m aware you have a baby. I bought you a beer, remember? Just make sure all the doors and windows are locked. I keep my golf clubs in my apartment.”
“And what? Just hide it or something. Or run it around all day and tire it out. Or I dunno, pop on the TV to distract it. We’ll be out for like 4 hours, tops. Don’t they sleep? Put up a gate or something.”
“Again, not a dog. And we’ve already arranged for the baby to go to Katie’s parent’s house.”
Babysitters. Couples with children have a built-in escape pod, and yet they still can’t be flexible.
When I forget to turn off my oven for seven hours, it’s me that feels nauseous from the fumes.
When I drink too much and pass out on my living room floor, it’s me that wakes up with a saltine cracker on my face.
When I accidentally text a bitter ex-girlfriend whose name starts with the same first letter as a girl I’m currently dating and ask her to grab dinner and include a wink emoticon and she misinterprets it as a smug attempt at revenge humor because of her eating disorder, it’s me that has to change phone numbers.
There are no babysitters for bachelors. There is no one to watch over us.
“So you and I will just go out. Katie can watch the stupid kid.”
“Don’t call my kid stupid.”
“Have you listened to him?”
“He’s eighteen months.”
“When do you stop using months for his age? Are you 360 months old?”
“A perfect question for the dinner party.”
“I’ll be the only single person there. It’s awkward.”
“Her cousin is coming. She’s single.”
The cliché of couples setting people up romantically because both happen to be single is well documented. And so is every heterosexual man’s response.
“I dunno, is she cute?”
“She’s not a floating head.”
“No, I mean … ”
“She apparently sleeps with a lot of guys.”
“What are we having?”
“To eat? Chicken, I think.”
“Okay? You’re in?”
“I guess, but I’m not bringing anything.”
“Fine, just use the bathroom this time.”
“I thought the cat was dead?”
“We buried it in the yard.”
—Photo credit: oceanaris/Flickr