Lisa: I realize we’ve become a bit boring to our single friends. We go home from the pub at a reasonable hour to avoid hangovers so our early Saturday morning at the dog park isn’t ruined; our conversation starters now include things like, “Have you ever tiled a backsplash…”
Dave: I catch myself talking about mortgages, new floors and afternoons spent crawling around stores with names that tell you exactly what’s inside – like Linens-N-Things – and I know it’s boring. But I can’t help myself. On the other hand, hearing all about how wasted my friends got on Saturday night has also lost its once-legendary appeal. Perhaps the trick is to get wasted on Saturday morning at Home Depot. Now that would be a story worth sharing.
Lisa: It’s already difficult enough to find things in that store.
Dave: There’s a funny thing that happens when single friends bring dates to dinner – everyone acts as if it’s forever love. By the end of the night, the marrieds are planning couples’ getaways with the new hire. (“Hey, why don’t we all rent a cabin next month!”) Sometimes I feel as if we’re zombies in a horror flick, chanting in unison, “One of us, one of us.”
Lisa: I think it’s because we want our single friends to find as much love and happiness as we have. I mean that, as goofy as it sounds. After a run of witchy girlfriends, you want your friend to settle on the sweet, cool one who actually understands humour. But I guess we get a little trigger-happy.
Lisa: Even if you think you’ve found them the most perfect mate, it’s a terrible idea to try to intervene and set your friends up. You can’t force that stuff. And if they do hit it off and things go sour, it becomes awkward when you have to stop inviting them to your couples-only Monopoly nights.
Dave: I’m definitely against the fairy-tale set-up attempt. The very nature of hanging out with a bunch of smug couples is, I think, the opposite of an aphrodisiac. I can remember the time one of your single friends discovered a remarkable affinity for chugging beer with one of my unattached buddies. How we thought the stars had surely aligned that night…but even copious amounts of alcohol couldn’t secure that love connection. I now realize it’s better to leave the single people to their odd single ways.
Dave: Here’s what I don’t envy: waiting in line at nightclubs, awkwardly dancing with strangers, and frantically hiding the copies of Hustler before company arrives. I am, however, jealous of our single friends’ abilities to eat potato chips for dinner, get drunk on Sunday afternoon without worrying about who’ll go out to buy the week’s groceries, and to accept tickets for the ball game without consultation. Oh yeah, being single was awesome… and lonely.
Lisa: You make it sound as if I have you tied on a leash. Go to the ball game. I’ll gladly eat chips for dinner.
Dave: Sometimes I also miss my bachelor apartment.
Lisa: I doubt very much that you miss sleeping on a bunk bed. I think it comes down to missing the lack of responsibility that goes with being single.
Dave: Maybe we need bunk beds. Let’s look for them in Home Depot this Saturday.