I thought of it again today, after hauling myself out of bed at 10:53 ack emma (in my defense, I did get up and stay up in the middle of the night) and trotting out to the grocery store. I have a sore throat--not the kind that comes on suddenly and necessitates antibiotics, but the viral sort that just lingers on and on. And I needed soup and juice. And beer. And guaifenesin. And there was nobody to send for it.
So, yes. While being single rocks overall, there are parts of it which, situationally, suck.
I suppose I could put an ad up, maybe on Craigslist. The thought of actually joining something like Match dot Com is entirely too frightening; besides, have you seen what's on there? Guys who either work out twice a day, or list the requirement of liking NASCAR. As my personal ad would probably be titled "WOMAN WITH PULSE SEEKS MAN WITH SAME", I don't think I'd get too much of a response. Especially as I would be tempted to use a picture of a velociraptor as my profile picture.
So. Let's assume that I put up an ad. I don't really *want* a boyfriend, but I don't want to advertise for somebody to come 'round and get me soup and make me tea when I'm not feeling well, and to scoop the cat box when I'm busy. For one thing, putting the words "cat box" in a personal ad would attract two kinds of attention, both of them the wrong sort: the first from men who think that "cat box" is a coded phrase for Something Else Entirely; the second from men who would be willing to scoop said box (the more I say that, the awfuller it sounds) and take out the trash and make a cup of tea, but who would insist on wearing a leather harness and calling me "Mistress" while doing it. The former is too much trouble to explain away; the latter is too much work.
Therefore, I suppose I would have to advertise for a boyfriend. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of personal qualities that translate well to personal-ad-format. For instance, I can make up bad song lyrics at a moment's notice and have a gift for limericks. I'm a hella good cook, but mentioning "hella good cooking" brings to mind women in aprons with immobile hair and a rictus of joyous fulfillment at the thought of a new vacuum cleaner. Besides, my grooming is inconsistent at best. Somehow,
SQUATTY WOMAN WITH INCONSISTENT PERSONAL GROOMING SEEKS MODERN-DAY ADONIS FOR LIMERICK RECITAL, TRASH REMOVAL, AND CAT-BOX SCOOPING. MUST BE FINANCIALLY SOLVENT AND NOT INTO WEARING BONDAGE GEAR OUTSIDE THE BEDROOM. PLEASE HAVE EQUAL FACILITY IN QUOTING SAYERS AND PEELING GRAPES
doesn't seem like a formula for success. Especially not when paired with a velociraptor snap.
Oh, I could hire people to do it for me, I suppose, but there's the problem: it would take multiple people to do what I need done. The drunken man who pounds on my door twice a week offering to mow my lawn is not the person I'd trust to feed my animals. Nor is a cleaning service likely to take kindly to the suggestion that their already-overworked employees trim back the bushes along the fence line. (You'll note that I did not include bush-trimming in the example above. Combined with a mention of personal grooming, that too raises unpleasant associations.)
Is there such a thing as husband-rental, and does it come by the hour, and without the need to nag? Because that's truly what I need. I'm not, however, willing to put up with either the expense of getting married or the irritation of picking up 1500 socks every day, none of which the owner of said socks will claim. And divorce is just a flaming pain in the ass.
Any newly-minted nurses need letters of recommendation? Because I'd be happy to write some. If you'll come scoop the cat box and trim back the bushes and mow the lawn.