Dear Smug Couple friends,

When I first read Bridget Jones’ Diary, she used the term “smug married couples.” I presently choose to modify the term, seeing as some of you are still/prefer to be unmarried, but undoubtedly share a life together.

So. Before this goes any further, let me say that I am happy for you. I love that you found each other, that you’re the yin to someone else’s yang, and that there is someone out there you can call a partner in every sense of the word.

But please. Dear God in the heavens above, please. Stop cooking up ways to get me together with your “super nice” guy friend who has “all the qualities a girl like [me] could ever want.” You tried once, there was no spark. Why couldn’t we have left it at that?

I am doing my best to keep this from crossing into bitter diatribe territory, but really. I am offended by the idea that just because I’m single, I have no choice but to drink whatever’s right there. Especially because you, who found true and everlasting love and are now its leading experts, were the ones who hand-picked this precious gem for me to get it on with.

I am likewise offended by the idea that I should be “grateful” for the opportunity. (News flash: I’m only 24 and absolutely capable of meeting other people.)

But I am especially offended that your idea of my perfect match is Super Nice Guy. True, he is super duper nice. In fact, he is so nice that I wanted to issue a search warrant for his missing balls, and no, I don’t mean the kind you use for basketball. Thank you, smug couple friends, for deciding that the one guy worthy of all my love and devotion is the human invertebrate. (Yes, I am a bitch. You heard me. I took it there.)

It’s not that I’m choosy (that’s a lie — I totally am), but am I crazy for thinking that my singleness isn’t a disease that needs to be cured? Am I crazy to want an actual connection if and when I do decide to seriously see someone?

The thing is, if there is such a person for me, I’m certain that I’ll meet him. Maybe at a party, maybe on one random work day, maybe I’ve already met him and I just haven’t realized it yet. Who knows? You might even have the privilege of introducing us.

But rest assured, it is not going to happen on the nth time you forget to mention that Super Nice Guy is coming along, before you conveniently disappear to leave us to our own devices. The moments have come and gone, and guess what. I’m still single.(Which, by the way, is not a sign that another “chance” encounter needs to be set up. Take a freaking hint already.)

Look, I get that your intentions are noble. You think I’ve been loved by/have loved all the wrong guys. You know I deserve better in that area. You want to see me happy, like you guys are. You love me and you think that someone should take care of me the way I look after my friends, loving me the way you love each other. I understand, which is the reason for this whole entry in the first place.

I want you to know that I really am happy. I am surrounded by people I love, by the opportunities to do things I love doing, and I am armed with an unabashed love of self. (A little too much at times, I’m told, but that’s just how I roll.) I don’t have a man, but I do have you guys. So if there’s anything I actually need, it’s not Super Nice Guy. It’s for you to appreciate my happiness.

I’m single, not alone. Not miserable. A little bitchy, but I was born that way. Not sad. Not searching. Not desiring anything more than your understanding that I am blessed as I am, and wildly content with the much that I have.

And just so you know, you’re part of my happiness too. So stop trying to pimp me out and just have dinner with me. We’ll tell stories over wine and laugh obnoxiously and I’ll be uncomfortable with your PDA. Just us, just as it should be. (I’m sure the Human Invertebrate will understand.)

xx,
Gab

PS. Also understand that if you try something like this one more time, I am perfectly inclined to slap you with a giant eel. Consider yourself warned.