I thought I could escape her but alas, my time has come.
Like a German-speaking Grim Reaper, the Swiss cold germs have found me and I’m spending my third week of living in Switzerland as a hermit holed up in my furniture-less apartment. One son is going through boxes of Kleenex faster than I can buy them and the other has spent the last two days in and out of consciousness with a mild fever.
One of my absolute pet peeves of FB (and there are many) is when people put their status update as “so-and-so ... is sick”. I can’t possibly think of a more mundane status update short of “so-and-so ... is folding laundry.” But this morning, as I woke up coughing and hacking (a sight for sore eyes I’m sure!), I had the impulse to do exactly that. “Natasha Drisdelle ... is sick.” Ack! I was horrified that the thought even crossed my mind. That I would even be tempted! I finally understood why people write that nonsense of a status update ... because when you feel this way, you want to broadcast it to the whole world so that they can all feel sorry for you. The unfortunate thing is, as you know from the many times you’ve come across one of those updates, nobody actually cares. Truth be told, most of your “Friends” wouldn’t stop to say hi on the street so I’m pretty sure they aren’t losing sleep over your condition. In fact, they’re a little peeved that you just wasted five seconds of their life in reading a pointless status update.
Although feeling like a sack of Nickelodeon’s green goo, I decided that the boys and I should at least try to venture out of the house and take advantage of the beautiful sunny weather we’re having this week. I swapped my comfy pajamas for my most comfy ripped jeans and a Lulu Lemon hoody. It was the first time I’ve ventured out in what they would probably consider painting clothes. No, I take that back. The girls here probably paint in black leggings and a baggy t-shirt accented by a big over-sized belt. I’m sure of it.
The boys and I hopped on a tram to a great big park down the road from us and much to my surprise, it was packed with English-speaking mom’s and their bilingual children. This is the equivalent of hitting the proverbial jackpot. In the three weeks we’ve been here, I’ve yet to hear any mom speak English to their child ... that extremely limits the possibility of actually making friends.
There was only one problem. I was not in any shape to be hit on.
You see, making new girlfriends is very similar to being on the single scene. Really, it is. You’ve got these women, who are all very content with their existing lives and for them to go out of their way and befriend you would be a major step out of their comfort zone. You’ve got to be desirable, intriguing, and most importantly, able to offer them something they can’t get anywhere else.
It reminds me of a time I was at the park with the boys in our hometown. I got to chatting with a nice woman and at the end of our brief conversation, she flat-out asked for my phone number. Now, after so many years in one city, the boys and I had more friends than we could actually keep up with. We were not really on the hunt for new ones, as nice as they may be. But as I dissected it later, I realized that I was intrigued by this girl and downright flattered by her request because she was, quite simply, cooler than me. Her hair, her clothes, her car ... all cooler. Looking back now, it’s sad to think of it like this because she really is an awesome girl. It would have been a shame to miss that had she been having an “off” day and decided to, God forbid, wear sweatpants to the park that day. Seems absolutely ridiculous when you type it out (and uh ... she reads it) but if I have stumbled upon a universal mom truth, how could I expect to “pick up” another mommy when I have what appears to be radioactive matter flowing from my nostrils and a wardrobe that to this European crowd resembles the local street bum?
Note to self: Next time you head to the playground, be sure you’re lookin’ fierce.