With my recent move and my subsequent purchase of a new satellite system and the infamous tivo, I’ve joined the better late than never club: I’ve started watching the ancient cultural phenomenon known as Sex and the City, all cleaned up, mind you, which suits me fine.
Tonight’s episode was about the single’s plight of living in a married world. Oh, the sorrow, to attend parties where all present are paired like occupants in noah’s ark and you’re the single orphan, receiving looks of both sympathy and suspicion. Blah, blah, blah…
Let me enlighten the masses on what really is the most abhorred existence; one so heinous that it should be encased behind glass to be observed from a sterile distance so not to catch any possible contagions: The divorced mother.
Divorced moms are the social pariah., the leper of the not so new millennium. Single people think, “how uncool in a sad way. Just like my mom.” Married people think, “how sad, I pray that never happens to US.”
SMs are never invited to the singles’ or couples’ parties of her past. Her phone number must have disappeared off of everyone’s pda.
But hey, that’s okay. I don’t want to go out much. I don’t really want to date. I just miss having a group of friends.