Manners Matter

Dear God, or Universe, or Creator, or WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE CALLED!!!!

I don't ask for much.  I really don't.  I live a humble(ish) life, I put forth a great effort to treat those that deserve it with respect, and kids love me.  All I want is a DECENT MAN IN HIS 30s TO ASK ME OUT.

No more 20 year olds and certainly no more men in their 50s.  I cannot.  I just cannot.  30s PLEASE.  JUST ONE.  SO I CAN STOP BEING SO CYNICAL.

And cynical I am.  Always have been, really.  Even as a child I remember my mother saying, "You're too young to be so cynical."  I thought it gave me street cred.  Now I just find it to be annoying.

Then last night, something magical happened.  Turn up the fire, snuggle up with a cozy blanket, and let me tell you a story.

Yesterday evening, I hung with my Israeli friend.  We laugh a lot together and he's more cynical than I am.  He reminded me that he thinks I will die alone, childless.  I kind of agree with him.

I saunter back home, thinking I should get to bed and wake-up early for Cardio Barre.  If I'm going to be alone forever, I should look fabulous.

I am greeted by my housemate, B, and his NEW boyfriend.  Let's call him NYC.  They were popping open a bottle of champagne.  I complain because champagne is my kryptonite, and I promised myself I would get up early for Cardio Barre.  NYC instantly calls me skinny.  Falling in love...

THEN he tells me to wait and runs off for a small box, wrapped in silver paper, with a blue bow on top.  A gift.  For me.  The lady of the manor.  The gift: a bracelet

This is the way it's supposed to be.  We call this act well-mannered.  Taught correctly.  Good parenting.  I could go on and on.

Everyone reading this post:  According to my Israeli friend, there is a very good chance that I will never reproduce.  PLEASE teach YOUR children to be well-mannered like NYC.  What a wonderful world this could be.