"So which ‘Sex and the City’ character are you?"
The sweet, old lady at the Fourth of July picnic is thrilled to meet me and my friends and even more thrilled when she discovers we all live in an apartment in the city. Apparently, she is an avid fan of the HBO show. Kate, one of the more talkative ones, proceeds to divulge to the woman which of us is which character. I hear her peg me as Charlotte.
Wait a second, I think. I don't want to be Charlotte, the prissy, needy, just-waiting-to-meet-the-man-of-her-dreams girl. I want to be Carrie, the free spirit who is satisfied whether or not she is alone or single.
"Why am I Charlotte?" I demand, but Kate just shrugs and they go back to their conversation.
I find myself a seat at a picnic table and dig into the chips and dip. The get together is thrown by a friend of a friend and I am waiting anxiously for the grilling to begin. It's getting closer to nine and I'm starving. I'm mulling over the earlier conversation in my head.
It seems like at the stroke of midnight and at the start of 2009, everyone I know fell in love while my relationship simultaneously ended. At first I didn't notice. I was too focused on mending my broken heart, but now it's summer and I realize those guys who have been around the last few months aren't going anywhere.
My friends are glowing. I should have seen it coming, but a part of me was hoping it wouldn't. Maybe my sadness to see my single friends die off has come across has bitterness. Maybe it's the realization that a year ago we were all in the same place and slowly they are moving on to the "taken club."
I like to call it the taken club because it's a secret club your friends go to where they brag and say they've found The One and then immediately inform you they must set you up with someone at once. It's dire need that everyone around you must be attached when in the taken club or else they look at you with pity and can't wonder how you possibly go on without being attached.
I can't say I roll my eyes at all of them. A couple of them have really gotten it right. They seem happy. Their relationships appear healthy and there is nothing wrong with finding someone great to spend your time with. On the other hand, for some of them, it is almost like they played a round of dating musical chairs and jumped at the first available guy. There is this strange fear in the eyes of many of my single friends lately, like being alone in 2009 is absolutely the worst thing that could happen to you.
It is not.
I've cleared the potato chip bowl and find a guy sitting next to me looking slightly amazed.
"How are you so small?"
"It's 9:15. And I'm pretty sure that guy hasn't even fired up the grill yet!" I counter.
"No cute boys tonight?" He wants to flirt and I might even reciprocate on a different day. There is nothing wrong with him, but I find myself not caring about anything but hamburgers and another margarita. If dating musical chairs is the game of the year, I lose.
He gets bored and finds another girl by the tiki torches. Good news, guys. There's always another one. I watch her flirtatiously flip her hair and play with the straps on her sundress.
Some days I am her, I think.
But tonight, in the midst of all the happy couples, I am me. Sometimes Carrie, sometimes Charlotte, and even a little Miranda and Samantha thrown in for good measure. But always Krissy.
Sassy, sweet, sensible … and single.
Krissy in the City is a 20-something who lives, works, and plays in River City. When not out on the town, she can be found designing new life ambitions, enjoying anything on the water, and engaging in good conversation. She appreciates her friends, family, and the awkward moments that make living and dating in Richmond so great. Her column, "Krissy in the City," appears on Richmond.com every Wednesday.
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