THE BRIDAL SHOWERBy Annie Christmas Nellie approached the door of her best friend’s apartment with some trepidation. Her pal was having a bridal shower for the last of their close circle of friends to be married. Nellie knew that they would be in hog heaven teasing her because she was still single. "Nervous Nellie, Nervous Nellie," they all called her. "You are looking for a pie in the sky kind of guy; you better face the music and realize that he doesn't exist. You must learn to compromise." "I am sorry to upset your apple carts at this party," retorted Nellie, but I’m a dyed in the wool feminist. I am not going to play second banana to any man. I demand tit for tat – even steven in my relationships. So go over there to that buffet and veg out on all that food and wine we bought that has put everyone in the red. If you don’t leave me alone I just might make a knuckle sandwich for each of you. You may even get some egg on your face. You are all caught up by some middle of the road convention that states that if you don’t grab a man and marry him, you will be forever between the devil and the deep blue sea. "I’m looking for an ace in the hole kind of guy- sort of a with a very wealthy father. I want my chip off the old block with a very wealthy father. I want my John Doe to possess the gift of gab – you know, to be able to speak extemporaneously off the cuff when we are out with friends from work. I want our Yin and Yang to be in perfect harmony not in total opposition like some people I know. "When I go to a party, I make a quick study of all the men present, pick out the most interesting looking guy and rake him over the coals in an effort to really get on his wave length. If he doesn’t pass the muster, then he is just water under the bridge." "Well now, I can see that you just gave this apartment a lick and a promise when you cleaned up for this shindig, so, you really don’t need me to stay and help straighten it up later. This is my zero hour. I’m going home and watch an x-rated movie. I’ll just say toodle-loo to all you desperate little housewives. ©2005 Annie Christmas |