The silly things I miss...

So, I'm calling myself the "Single Girl" on this blog, but the truth is most of my adult life I've been in what match.com likes to call "serious committed relationships."  The last time I was actually single, my girlfriends liked to joke that I was the girl who "doesn't stay single for long."

I've been single for a whole year now.  Officially.  Sure, there have been guys I've dated more than twice.  But, no one's risen to the rank of "boyfriend."  I guess that's good.  I had to get myself put back together after my last relationship (which might have caused a slightly more dramatic girl to be "seriously committed" to a mental institution!)

It would be kind to call my last relationship dysfunctional.  Sure, we had our good days, but it was rocky at best.  At worst, I'd call it emotionally violent.  (Yeah, I know it would make more sense to use the word "abusive" there, but I'm really not sure that word is... well... enough.)

You can see why I'm hesitant to admit that there's one thing I miss about being in a relationship, even a relationship as bad as the last one I found myself in?  But, here it is.  I miss having someone to talk to about all those silly little things that happen in our daily lives.  You know, the stories that simply aren't important enough to call up a friend, but somehow still too funny to keep bottled inside?

So, here's the latest.  This happened last week, but I just haven't found anyone to listen to it yet. 

I was walking to the gym after work when I noticed a shiny new hatchback with smoke pouring out of the rear tire.  Not surprisingly, the car had a great big zipcar logo on the door.

The car looked a lot like this one.  Same color and everything!

I knocked on the window and waved my arms violently to try to let the driver know that she needed to stop driving.  There was something very clearly wrong with her rental car.  But, as she pulled up beside me, I could see very plainly that she was driving with her emergency brake on.

I tried to tell her what the problem was, but she couldn't figure out how to roll down the window to hear me.  Finally, she understood, but she couldn't figure out how to release the emergency brake.  She was looking around near her left leg. (Apparently she had never driven a car with the emergency brake on the center console? Had she only ever driven stick shifts?  Or cars made pre-1980?)

The release looked a lot like this.  Pretty normal, don't you think?  But the poor girl was perplexed.

After a couple of minutes of pantomime, I shouted at her that she really needed to focus on rolling down the window so I could help.  When she did, I literally had to reach into the car and touch the emergency brake release and show her how to use it. 

It was my good deed for the day.

Thanks for listening.