I have to credit Joan DelFattore with the title. Within hours of Will Smith’s legendary slap of Chris Rock at the Oscars, memes and articles crowded up the Web, and I got to see arguments for Team Will/Jada, and others condemning the slap.
I’m more in the latter camp; while the joke about Jada’s alopecia was definitely in poor taste, there are better ways to react to being disrespected, and I immediately thought about my own Bella DePaulo-inspired crusade against singlism and matrimania, which came from a place of anger.
Many decry anger, but anger can be beneficial if used appropriately and constructively. Before I discovered Singles Studies, I was subject to microaggressive comments like “Why aren’t you married” and unsolicited dating advice and offers to be set up. And those types of interactions led me to make relationship decisions that weren’t healthy for me (like getting into them, for example).
By the time I was introduced to Bella’s work through her website, that anger had built me up, and reading her work helped to give it a name. Writing about such experiences helped to dilute the anger, as writing tends to do (journaling is another area of scholarship I’m looking to pursue). I wrote about comments I’d heard, microaggressions I’d received, reflections on material I’d read and shows/movies I’d watched, among other things. Around the time I started writing, I discovered Community of Single People, a group started by Bella to finally provide a space for singles that wasn’t focused around dating. My blog found an audience, and this regular writing practice eventually led to my publication of several articles and a book.
The point is there are better ways to address disrespect than walking up to someone and hitting them. There’s Tweeting (even Trump knew how to do that). Will Smith is an articulate person (after all, he is a performeer); he could have easily said something in his Oscar acceptance speech or to Chris privately. They’re adults! There have been instances where I’ve wanted to throw water in someone’s face or introduce them to the back of my hand when they made a singlist comment, but I don’t do it because that’s just not what an adult does.
But perhaps I’m being self-righteous. I don’t know what goes on behind the scenes of Jada and Will’s union. And I don’t know the history of Chris/Will/Jada. But what I do is that when I felt anger at singlism, I used writing, which is a tool that has way greater impact than that of the fist.
After two years of teaching to video screens, I finally went back into the in-person classroom, which gave me a newfound energy (teaching to black boxes just isn’t the same as being able to see my students, even if I’m only seeing the tops of their faces). Similarly, the last in-person academic conference I attended was the National Popular Culture Association, held in Washington, DC, April 2019. After a few rounds of presenting to video screens, I was ready to go back to the in-person conference experience, complete with hotel lobbies, Ubers, and city travel.
The trip was to Baltimore, a quick 40-minute Amtrak ride from DC. After checking into my Airbnb, I had a nice solo dinner at Mother’s Federal Hill, where I got my needed crab cake fix (along with crab soup and crab pretzels), par for the course for every trip to Baltimore. I burned all those carbs with a one-and-a-half mile walk to the Baltimore Marriott Waterfront to hear Judith Butler, legendary philosopher and idol of many in the humanities, speak. I also met up with Elizabeth, my session co-chair and fellow singleton. I sat next to a very nice English professor named Rachel who flew all the way from London for the talk. While much of the language she (as well as most academics) was dense, I got the gist of her talk, which was essentially that the pandemic has divided us up in ways we never thought possible, and that it’s important to find human connections where we can (which has proved to be true for me, outside of romance, of course).
After a nice sleep, I woke at about 6, watched an episode of Inventing Anna (about a detestable yet fascinating figure), showered, got into my “academic” wardrobe, which was essentially a brown, hipsterish sweater, and walked another mile and a half through the cold rain and snow to the hotel, uphill, both ways, yada yada. I indulged in the free breakfast provided by the conference (bagel with cream cheese, an apple, and much-needed coffee) before heading to a session about German life writers. I like going to sessions related to topics about which I know nothing, so I can learn. I learned that life writing differs a great deal from memoir writing and autobiography in that such prose contains family history.
After the session, I met up with a young gentleman whom I coached for the job clinic offered by the conference. That was a rewarding experience, as I got to help someone navigate the nebulous path that is the academic job market. I then met up with Elizabeth for lunch; we went to Kooper’s Tavern in Fells Point where Heather and I were introduced to “bubbles” the year prior. Sadly, they no longer serve crab cakes, but their meat loaf sandwich did the trick. We had great conversation about writing, life, and of course, a favorite topic, singlehood. Our walk back to the hotel was fraught with more cold rain and snow, but we made it through.
After a session involving digital assignments that encourage radical thinking among students (and learning that YouTube was started by a quest involving toxic masculinity, i.e., three preteens trying to locate the video of Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” during the Super Bowl 2004 halftime show), I went into our conference room and discovered that I had forgotten my laptop charger, and my computer was at 58%. Fortunately, Elizabeth’s battery was at much higher capacity, and it turned out the adapter I purchased fit into her computer, but not mine. Interesting turn of events for sure. After some technological bumps, we met up with Debadrita, our remote presenter, on the Whova platform used by the conference. Thanks to the goodwill of one of the conference assistants, we were able to get some of the CoSPers on to view the talk, including Heather and Laura.
Despite several technological snafus (including a high-pitched sound from what appeared to be the heating vent, we rolled on. Debadrita offered an interesting talk about the portrayal of single women in film, from the traditional (Clueless, Bridget Jones’s Diary) to the slightly less traditional (the Sex in the City franchise) to the progressive (Frances Ha). I then gave my draft of a Bechdel-like test that measures how singles are portrayed in film (I wonder how the test got publicized, and as I’m writing, I’d like to research that test more to refine mine). And I think I’ll publish mine on this blog soon. Perhaps that’s how such experimental work gets noticed; an academic journal probably isn’t the best fit for this work. Elizabeth concluded with a pro-single analysis of Nomadland, a pro-single film about a woman who goes on the road after her husband’s death.
Some great questions came up from the audience, including one from a French professor named Rebecca about the plight of those who identify as asexual and aromantic and how it relates to the societal implications of singlism and matrimania. This part was where we were able to discuss why Singles Studies is an important field. It’s not just a field of academic study, but it has implications as far as the law (it favors the traditional, escalator-style narrative), which also can influence people’s relationship choices, oftentimes bad ones. Another attendee’s questions about socioeconomic ramifications got me thinking about an idea for a paper I’ve been tossing around involving the show Shameless; at the end of the series, most of the characters are coupled up, but due to economic necessity, not necessarily out of romantic attraction. It was the kind of “coupling” conclusion that left me not frustrated, but sad. But I’m glad to have gotten in touch with those feelings because I was in somewhat of a dry period with writing about Singles Studies; my idea well had been tapped, but I found something new, and I’m glad to be reinvigorated.
I celebrated my productive academic day with a solo concertgoing experience at the Baltimore Soundstage, a friendly venue, to see Shout at the Devil (a Motley Crue tribute) and Fade to Black (a Metallica tribute). Live music has always been a self-care practice of mine, and metal, however aggressive it may seem, can be quite the release. After the show, I hopped an Uber home and fell right to bed.
My solo excursion continued the next morning. The clocks sprung an hour forward, and I was up at 7. I watched another episode of Inventing Anna before taking a walk over to DiPasquale’s, an Italian deli my friend Jack had informed me about. This spot didn’t have any of the prepackaged Italian salamis or sausages I was hoping for, but I did get their homemade marinara sauce and two bags of tricolor pasta, good for some Bachelor Cooking. And then breakfast at Cross Street Market, another new spot.
The trip to the Amtrak from the Airbnb was circuitous in nature; I got on the Charm City Circulator, a free bus, but the route got blocked by the St. Patrick’s Day parade, so it was a mile walk, suitcase in hand and backpack on back. But it was good cardio, and I made a stop to add carbs at The Bun Shop.
As I sit here at Penn Station-Baltimore, I reflect. An academic conference is always good for reinvigorating my motivation to research and write, and live music is a great tool to balance that energy. And solo travel, well, the benefits of that are innumerable. Thank you to those who made this weekend what it was, and I hope to see you all soon, in-person and online.
Normally, I create two separate blog posts for Valentine’s Day and Singles Empowerment Day (the acronym for Singles Awareness Day is horrible, so I had to change it), but since I’ve gone back to teaching in-person and have been socializing a lot more than normal, my energy’s a bit sapped, so I’m combining.
Valentine’s Day wasn’t that exciting. I taught in-person; when I got home, I remembered that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza’s boss, a fictionalized George Steinbrenner of the New York Yankees, had him buying him a daily calzone, with hilarious results, and I had a craving for a calzone.
Upon seeing this behemoth, I knew I wasn’t going to finish it in one sitting. So I had part of it and froze the rest. From there, I indulged in some lovely Valentine’s Day chocolate. #allforcraig
I’m part of an Aces Meetup Group out of New York, and they sponsored a “Palentine’s Day” movie screening during which we watched Moana, a delightful animated tale about a teenager’s quest for self-discovery as she navigates across treacherous waters. The thing that makes it fit: no romantic subplot!
Singles Empowerment Day was slightly more exciting. I don’t teach on Tuesdays, but my office hours were packed with students needing assistance with papers. A power nap followed this, then a run, then more work emailing. From there, I made my way to Washington, DC’s Chinatown (not at the level of New York or San Francisco’s Chinatowns, but not bad either). Upon walking around, I picked a palatial-looking building in which to have dinner, which turned out to be Tony Cheng’s Seafood House. The place was near-desolate, which I both expected on a Tuesday evening, and enjoyed. With all the garbage I had eaten over the weekend (fried shrimp, the calzone, chocolate, Super Bowl food), I wanted something with vegetables, so I ordered a beef with broccoli platter, part of which I ended up taking home. As I ate, I listened to a group of what appeared to be sales representatives talk in numbers. I love listening to others’ conversations, even if I can’t understand the content; it reminds me I’m just one piece in a very, very large puzzle that is the world’s population.
After that, I headed back to my place; the nice thing about Singles Empowerment Day is that it also falls on that day after Valentine’s Day when all the candy goes on sale at half-price. As a confirmed chocoholic, I made my way to the Giant Food at 9 a.m., just on my work, to pick up a few items, which I indulged in as I watched The Karate Kid Part 3. Now, it’s a pretty bad movie, but it came when I purchased my Karate Kid collection, just after watching the first season of Cobra Kai back in 2018. There were two things about that movie I liked: 1) no romantic subplot; Daniel’s “interest” is a platonic one; and 2) Thomas Ian Griffith’s fun performance as Bondesque supervillain Terry Silver, who was made three-dimensional in the latest season of Cobra Kai. It was interesting watching him, knowing about his background and dynamic with Kreese.
Overall, it’s been a crazy time, but I was glad to have a relatively mellow last couple of days. But it goes back to full speed this upcoming weekend with at least two social outings. But, for now, I have some evenings in with protein and green vegetables. And Chester.
Back in October, I went out to dinner with some friends in DC, and one married friend talked about how he and his wife had had COVID the year prior and had to quarantine together. Another coupled friend said, “It’s a good thing you could it together.” I chose not to respond but I wondered if it would really be that bad having to do it alone.
I found out recently (although, to be fair, I was boosted and vaccinated, something the couple could not have been, so the symptoms were mild. After a few days of what felt like a really bad cold, cough, and sore throat, I decided to get tested just to ensure it WASN’T COVID. Fortunately for me, I live in Washington, DC, where antigen tests are distributed like candy and PCR tests are given throughout the day. After my antigen came out positive, I thought it may have been a false one. Sadly, a few days later, when I got the text telling me my test results, I was surprised to see, “POSITIVE.”
I didn’t leave my apartment for few days. Fortunately, I had a three-day weekend, which I spent watching movies on Netflix, not to mention the second season of my Married with Children DVD collection (that show is the ultimate pro-single show, and while the datedness of the humor could make it feel inappropriate, I just can’t help but laugh). As I worked while in quarantine, I found myself getting bored of the work, watch Netflix routine, so I eventually took out my guitar for the first time in several months and started playing. I’m not trying to learn anything new per se, but I just fooled around, and it was therapeutic. And I read as well. My latest is Dance of Days, a punchy, information-packed tour through the history of punk rock in DC.
As an introvert, I was fine, although I was missing certain aspects of life, like working out and being able to go to the grocery store. Instacart’s a little complicated for my liking. And I couldn’t be too close to Chester due to cats’ ability to catch this thing. Knock on wood, he’s his usual feisty self.
My last point: the research that says singles have more friends than married people. Well, it proved to be helpful in my case. I had quite a few people offer to bring me medicine and groceries. While I didn’t need it (save for that one Instacart purchase), it was good to know that friends were looking out for me. If I had put all that energy into one relationship (with a significant other) and they had caught COVID, I might not have all that support. And if it’s a toxic relationship, it REALLY would have been a bummer.
As of now, my antigen and PCR tests are negative, and I’m easing back into my routine. Grocery shopping, weight lifting, and jogging. And starting next week, I can finally teach on campus. Features of a normal life returning…
Twice a year, I go to New York to visit my mother, and I’m blessed to have a job that allows me the time to do that. This holiday season, since I’m working remotely, I decided to head up early to: 1) give my Mom extra time with me and her grandson Chester; 2) I hate that road trip up, and since I had an opportunity to get it out of the way, I thought I’d do so. It’s like the needle at the doctor’s office.
I was pleased to see that my CoSP compadre Michelle was in NYC and looking to hook up (as in get together) with people from CoSP. Introverted as I am, I love socializing with other happy singles, so I came a-running.
The trip was a nice combo of alone time and social time. I hopped the New Jersey Transit, my favorite mode of transportation, into New York City. I brought books with me, but I was content to stare at the window into the wilds of northern New Jersey. Lots of two-story homes with large backyards and pools, as well as some less privileged areas, but all are good for visual story.
I got into Hoboken at about 4:30, and I’m always reminded of Marlon Brando’s classic, On the Waterfront. After walking around the waterfront and taking in some picturesque views of the Hudson River, I walked around and got a hankering to check out Carlos’s Bakery from that old Cake Boss show, just for the photo opp. And, of course, I had to stock up on pastries, including the New York staple known as the cannoli.
After hopping the PATH train to Christopher Street, I did my routine of the pizza slice and street hot dog, must-dos once I’m in New York. It had gotten dark, but the Village is fun at night. Always good for people-watching. I had time to kill before meeting Michelle, so I got a ginger tea at Joe and the Juice and engaged in two more of my favorite pastimes, reading and writing. Emma has been a slog, but I’m enjoying Charles Blow’s memoir, Fire Shut Up in My Bones. Journaling has always been therapeutic, but I’m finding it more helpful to do it in a marble composition book than on a Word document. It feels more natural. I also liked this classic typewriter:
I met Michelle at the Four Points Sheraton just as she was checking in, and we walked around the Village and Soho in search of delectable yet affordable cuisine (a hard find in lower Manhattan). Finally, it came down to a choice between a pizza place and an Indian restaurant. When we checked out the Indian restaurant, we realized it was called “Taco Mahal” as opposed to “Taj Mahal.” A place that fuses tacos and Indian food? Ummmmmm, yes!
We were able to find seats in a tiny patio near some heat lamps (but with wobbly chairs). The taco was enough to satiate me with the hot dog and pizza slice I had gorged on earlier, but I still had to have my cannoli. Michelle and I also shared a cookie.
Since we’re both academics, much of our conversation steered toward the craziness that pervades both of our professions, and we also talked about growing up in the New York suburbs (it turns out she knows my second cousin, who taught social studies at her high school for over thirty years). And some small talk about food and our various travels.
After we parted ways, I headed back to Hoboken, which brought me back to my 20s, which were spent wandering Manhattan and Hoboken. I was pretty much in a fog as I rode back in Suffern, but it was a pleasant one. With CoSPers, they always are.
I get up around 7. Get out of bed around 7:30. After stumbling over a bunch of empty pizza boxes on my way to the refrigerator that has all kinds of mold and stain throughout, I drink some orange juice directly from the carton. After I take a swig, I kick my pizza boxes at the wall. One feels heavier than the rest. I open it, and jackpot, I find a slice that hasn’t been touched! It’s got some dust on it, but all I need to know is blow on it, and it should be edible. I woof it down in two bites.
I spray cologne all over my body before pounding a Red Bull. I doze off a bit on the Metro before getting into work at around 9, where I find an email from the commissioner of my fantasy football league giving out an announcement about lineups needing to be solidified before Sunday.
I do some work before going to the breakroom to chat with the boys about where we’re hitting happy hour. I pound down a 5-hour Energy Drink to get through the afternoon, and work ends, we down some McDonalds before heading to the bar to party, which we do until the bars close. I catch an Uber back to my pad at around 3:30 in the morning and crash out on my sheetless bed.
I get up around 7. Get out of bed around 7:30. Repeat cycle.
So, on Friday night, I had the opportunity to go out to dinner with a new group of guys, and while it was fun and I enjoyed their company, I feel kinda left out when a few of them started talking about their wives and such, and three of them were going to Atlantic City for a “bachelor party weekend” (not my cup of tea anymore, but still). There were other singles at the table, but I happened to be sitting next to the married crowd. Oh well.
I didn’t know what to expect logging onto this discussion group of Amy Gahran’s Off the Relationship Escalator, a book I read for my research for How to be a Happy Bachelor. After my morning run, I logged onto the Zoom group and was placed into a breakout room about “Preserving Autonomy,” where I heard others talking about the same issues we discuss on CoSP. I had to give them Bella’s site, as well as that recent Atlantic article, “The Hidden Costs of Living Alone,” and that OpEd from Charles Blow, “The Married Will Soon Be the Minority,” the latter of which really cheers me up.
There was another talk about intimacy outside of a committed romantic relationship, which I’m on board with. I’m more intimate in my platonic friendships than I’ve ever been with a romantic partner. I got a great deal out of it, and those feelings cancelled out the isolation I felt Friday night, but I was a bit sad to leave that space of truly like-minded individuals. And then I thought of the idea of a singles-centered utopia.
I would like to live in a community populated by single-at-heart people. No coupling or romance, and I’d especially love a world where marriage wasn’t privileged. Equal tax benefits for all, equal leave for all and no microaggressions. I remember reading about solo-dwelling communities in Eric Klinenberg’s Going Solo, and for my retirement, I’d like to live in one (or if I have the money, start one of my own). Spaces like CoSP are starting to make me believe that something like this can be possible for us singletons.
Happy Ace Week!
After coming back from my concert Friday at about 1 a.m., I set my alarm for 8:30, knowing I’d be dragging my blistered feet to the big Women’s March. But the way I see it, this abortion ban is an intersectional issue involving feminism and Singles Studies. Those old white men who think they can control women’s bodies are also implicitly saying that having children is mandatory, which ties into societal propagation of the “relationship escalator.” So I wanted to put together a CoSP meet for this.
I had fallen out at about 2:30 earlier that morning, and my eyes were burning, but I knew this was a worthy cause. That being said, that thermos of coffee was much needed. Janice and I ended up meeting at the Metro Center station downtown, and walking over to Freedom Plaza to meet up with Maggie and Dan, a couple, but allies in our singlehood fight. We met up with Maggie at the volunteer tent, and we made our way to the front of the stage. As the sun beat down on us, we admired all the cool signs (including “Keep Your Rosaries Off My Ovaries,” “We Stand with Texas Women,” “Real Men Are Feminists,” and Maggie’s “Men of Equality Don’t Fear Equality” sign, which got a bunch of requests for pictures). Janice and I also talked music, Singles Studies, and travel, a few of my favorite topics.
There were a large number of speakers, including Planned Parenthood CEO Alexis Johnson, and Erika Forbes, a progressive Reverend from Texas who supports LGBTQ rights. The music had a female empowerment theme, including “Vogue,” “Miss Independent,” and “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” The Soul Rebels, a funk band from New Orleans, also showed up to play a few songs. One woman even said, “It’s great to see men here.” As a cis white hetero male, it was certainly humbling, but it’s important that I be aware of my position and that I use my privilege to help other marginalized groups.
At around 1:45, we marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, past the Capitol, at which point Dan said, “This is what a peaceful protest looks like.” I responded, “Yep, no need to go storming the Capitol.” A bunch of people booed and made unflattering gestures at the Trump Hotel. Once we reached the Supreme Court, the crowd split off, and tired as I was, I made it with our group to We the Pizza, which had some pretty good slices. Not quite NY worthy, but pretty darn close. The Powerade I drank with the pizza helped revive me some, as we walked back toward where Dan parked. Janice split off to hit the Metro, but since I don’t see Maggie that often, I hung with them until I reached the Metro Center station.
That night, I needed to nurture my introvert side, which I did with leftover pizza, the end of the first season of Seinfeld, and the third season of Dear White People. I was exhausted, but I felt good in showing up and being a part of a movement that’s way bigger than me and that ties into something that’s become a big part of me these past few years. It was even better having a fellow singleton there. Thanks for coming, Janice; we’ll be in touch!
My sympathies out to the women of Texas who’ve been subjected to men’s outdated views on what they should do with their bodies. I had a conversation with a close friend who was feeling enraged about it. Millions of people (not just women) are feeling similar anger, which is why there’s another Women’s March happening October 2.
After our conversation, I’ve started thinking about all of the activism I’ve been doing on singlehood, and I’ve told the story about how my interest developed so many times it’s become second nature. I felt anger at all the times I’d been microaggressed (that verb should really not be highlighted red) about being single, and that anger developed as I read more about how laws and policies are designed to benefit the married. I can’t even watch a film without analyzing it for a pro-romance message.
While anger is looked at negatively, it can actually be a good thing if used constructively. My anger resulted in this blog, which in turn, resulted in a bunch of articles, a book, and a developing brand. I thought of this when I suggested to my friend that she engage in some painting, a favorite pastime of hers, as an outlet for her anger.
I do find that through conversation and writing and allowing myself my anger over discrimination toward single people (micro- and macro-), I’m actually able to be a lot less angry. I find myself being genuinely happy for people who get married, engaged, pregnant, etc. Because even though it’s not my life path, I can congratulate others who are doing the things they want to do, even if I won’t be attending their weddings or getting them gifts. After all, I didn’t get any gifts when I got my doctorate, got my promotion, published my book. So why should I subsidize them? But maybe that’s my anger there.
At any rate, I’m proposing that CoSPers and other singles activists attend their state’s marches on October 2. The abortion ban in Texas is very much an intersectional issue that involves singlism, because banning abortions is anti-single in that it reinforces the government’s preference in marriage and children. And to my DC tribe, hope we can meet there!
NOTE: This post is cross-listed with one on my other blog, Not Enough Concerts.
In the spirit of living my best solo life, I decided to take a two-day trip to Baltimore since I have the time “off” during the summer. Friday was spent walking the city, enjoying its crab cakes, and being dazzled by the unconventional artwork at the American Visionary Art Museum. But the real reason for the trip was meeting fellow CoSPer Heather for the Acrocats show, that event where cats do cool tricks like jumping through hoops, walking on balance beams, and even playing instruments!
After hopping the #56 bus to Highlandtown (which seems like the cultural hub of Baltimore), enjoying an Italian sub at DiPasquale’s, I walked over to High Grounds Coffee Roasters, where I did another thing I intended: distributed a few flyers for my coaching business. I had a nice conversation with an older gentleman named Wiley, who asked if I helped with things like ancient writing. I gave him my pitch wherein I tell people I coach the individual writer and what that writer needs, and he revealed he was a student of ancient writing. Very cool.
After reading my newest literary acquisition, Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime, and writing in my journal for a bit, I met up with Heather and her friend Missy at the venue, where we look at the cool merch. I acquired an Acrocats bumper sticker for my amplifier, as well as some treats that can help with my cat/son Chester’s hairballs. Missy and I did what all cat owners do when they meet each other in this digital age: show off our cat pics. She also referred to the event as a “catcert,” which I found delightful.
The cat puns continued as the event’s emcee started with an “ameowncement” greeting “Baltimeow.” The soundtrack consisted of cat-related songs like The Cure’s “The Love Cats,” Tom Jones’s “What’s New Pussycat?” and Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever.” I would have also loved “Eye of the Tiger” and “China Cat Sunflower,” but I guess you can’t have everything.
When mice were brought out, my first thought was, “They’d better not have the cats chase them around!” And they didn’t; they just walked the balance beams. We were also treated to some antics from a rooster named Cluck Norris.
The emcee gave some explanation on how the trainers get the cats to do their bidding via the use of clickers. That, and a lot of patience. In fact, her line “nothing teaches you humility like trying to train a cat in front of a live audience” stuck with me.
Tricks that stuck out included the following (I was writing too quickly to remember most of the names):
My favorite was when a white cat named Tuna walked into the audience and eventually headbutted me. Of course, I kept saying “Hellwoooo Chester” under my breath because, again, I associate all cute things with little Chester. Plus I just like to act weird.
The highlight, of course, was the Rock Cats, their band. “Tuna, more cowbell!” was a common request from the trainers. I’m pretty sure I heard “Bad Romance” on sax from Oz, and “Careless Whisker” appeared as well. Bowie rocked out on drums, Nue took us to the 1980s with the synthesizer, Sookie played those chimes like a champ, Buggles emerged from her high perch to play some trumpet.
One line of note. The emcee revealed that she fosters most of these cats. She said, “I won’t say how many cats I have but I am single and probably always will be.” I felt some subdued, awkward laughter from a few members, but mostly silence. I’m not sure how I feel about that self-deprecating humor, which really plays into the stereotype, but then again, I do try to subvert it though my “crazy single cat male” persona, so there you go.
At any rate, it was a fun time, and thanks to Heather’s astute observational skills, I found a place to put more flyers for my business. Of course, I was missing Chester, and was ecstatic to come home and do my thing where I pick him and give him endless kisses. And, of course, some Netflix and chill.
My name is Craig. I'm an educator, writer, and unapologetic singleton. When not reading, writing, or teaching, I enjoy hiking, running, watching movies, going to concerts, spending time with friends, and playing with my cat/son, Chester.