Single Girl at the Water Cooler

by Jane Moneypenny

There’s something to be said about being one of the only single people at the office. With my last few jobs, I’ve been one of the handful (honestly, there’s 1-3 people) singles. It’s something I’ve grown used to, especially at lunch when every girl (or guy) goes on and on about how her significant other ether did something incredibly stupid or sickly sweet. Needless to say, I’m more often than not, quiet during meals.

What do I have to offer in this conversation? I don’t have dates, a boyfriend,  fiancee, husband or even a dog. Instead, I have random hobbies that makes me sound like I may have ADD (hey, I can play the 12-bar blues on the harmonica now).

Last week, the doctor says I have fibrocystic breasts. Nothing to worry about, just changing hormones. Take vitamin B, E and primrose oil. Eat less salt. Don’t stress so much. The pain will decrease over time; if not, a low dose of birth control is the next step. I make a joke about not being sexually active enough to need it.

It’s finally warm in Austin after a few weeks of brutal cold, so I drive home at sunset with the windows down and the radio blaring. The temptation to go to rock climbing or go swim laps at the gym lingers, but my ankle is throbbing from the injury*, a weekend of Habitat volunteering and climbing for 2 hours yesterday. But I listen to my body for once and return home, icing my ankle and eating a giant bowl of cereal and wondering what I’ll talk about tomorrow at lunch.

*I finally beat both routes that had been haunting me for the last few weeks, including the one I fell 12 feet from. Rejoice!