Free Why I Love Singlehood: by Elisa Lorello, Sarah Girrell Page B

and then he walked out as we thanked him for his input and bid him a good day.
    “You thinkin’ of speed datin’, Eva?” asked Spencer, whose Southern accent became even more apparent following the smoothie-drinking-speed-dating Bostonian.
    “Thinking about it, yeah.”
    “How come? I mean, what ever happened to you loving singlehood?” asked Spencer.
    “Trust me, if she does speed dating, she’ll love it even more,” said Jan.
    “So, did you hook up with anyone that night?” Dean asked Jan.
    “Dean!” she said, exasperated. “Enough already.” He frowned and sipped his iced latte.
    “It just seems that you’re saying one thing and doing another,” Spencer remarked to me, ignoring Jan and Dean’s little spat.
    “Who says dating can’t be a part of singlehood?” I said. “Besides, I’m just curious. It’s a process of elimination. For all those people who keep telling me what I’m missing and that I should be ‘out there.’” I made quote marks with my fingers. “So, I’m going ‘out there,’” (gestured the quote marks yet again) “to prove to them that it doesn’t work and is not detrimental to my lifetime happiness.”
    I turned to a table of Regulars. “So, any of you singles wanna come with me sometime?”
    Dara, one of the new Regulars since the summer began, shook her head. “Not me. You might as well auction me off on eBay.”
    “That might be next,” said Spencer.
    Sister Beulah also shook her head. “I’m spoken for,” she said as she winked. I smiled back.
    “I’ll go,” said Norman.
    I whisked around. “You?”
    “Why so surprised?”
    “I don’t know, I just thought—” I stammered. “I didn’t know you were interested.”
    “Why not? It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a date.”
    “OK then,” I said, my voice shaky. For some reason, going speed dating with Norman seemed like the equivalent of going to the senior prom with my brother, if I’d had one.
    “I’ll go,” Minerva chirped with a sly grin.
    I gaped at her. Was she serious?
    “Yeah,” she said as if she’d read my mind. “It’ll be fun.”
    “But, you’re—”
    “Look, I’m going to want all the details, and not just the WILS version, either. Just think of this as a favor to you—I’m saving you the trouble of recounting it all.”
    I could actually feel my jaw flapping as I searched for something to say. “But, Jay—”
    “Maybe he’ll come, too.” Her perpetual grin was so mischievous I thought she could’ve been playing a trick on me. And yet, I feared otherwise.
    “Come on, Eva, let her go,” Jan coaxed.
    “Yeah, and then you can have dueling blog posts afterward,” Tracy added.
    “Nice! Like a news report–style thing,” Dean added.
    “But,” I tried again, “she’s married .”
    “So?” said Tracy. “You’re only doing it to prove how stupid it is anyway. What does it matter, so long as her husband doesn’t mind.” She then turned to Minerva, “Would he?”
    “Nah. Knowing him, he’ll wanna come along. You have no idea how bored he gets with me studying all the time.”
    Dean laughed. “Minerva, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen you study.”
    “Dean,” Jan chided, “what do you think she’s doing here all the time?”
    “Uh,” he gestured at the group of Originals and Regulars all engrossed in the conversation, “ this ?”
    “The cookies are good, but they’re not that good,” Tracy said, backing up Jan. “She’s obviously one of those people who studies best with a little background noise. Right, Minerva?”
    Minerva considered the stack of notes next to her, under a crumb-dusted plate. “No, the cookies really are that good.”
    The group laughed as Minerva licked her fingers, dabbed at the remaining crumbs, and finished them off before taking her plate to the dish bin at the far end of the counter.
    “Would your husband really want to go?” Tracy asked, obviously finding the thought