First, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Ellise, a 19-year-old sophomore here at the University of Missouri. I like long walks through the woods, cuddling while watching movies and talking about life aspirations. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever done those things with my black lab, Joe.
You guessed it. I’m single.
I can’t say that I’m not to blame for spending the last 19 years of my life sans any solid form of relationship. I haven’t exactly been looking for love. So far, I’ve been doing great as a single college student. I have no one to answer to, no one to be jealous of the fact that I have guy friends and no one to snuggle when I’m sad. That last one sounded a little more depressing and desperate than I meant it to.
My freshman year was great. I felt no need to go out into the big ocean of MU and find that one guy that would change everything. However, coming into my sophomore year, I began to panic. All my previously single friends were in relationships. I was the third, fifth, ninth wheel!
It was a nightmare coming to fruition. So I did what any rational girl would do: wore makeup, put on real pants and acted like a young woman.
With my newfound femininity, I began to strut my stuff across campus. I’m not sure if it was because I actually looked like a girl for once or because I had a false sense of confidence, but I felt good. Really good.
One night, I was hanging out with some friends at Mark Twain Hall, where I’m a community advisor. We decided to use up some of our E.Z. Charge on a late-night dash to Mizzou Market. How could you say no to such a fantastic proposition?
So, at 2 a.m., we walked across campus to the market. As we walked inside, I noticed several very attractive guys just hanging out, one of them a Ryan Gosling doppelgänger. With my false confidence, I walked by gracefully (which is a miracle if you’ve ever met me). I grabbed a few of my favorite late-night treats and made my way to the register.
The attractive guys were all looking at me, and I could feel a deep blush begin to surface on my face. What could they be looking at?
I grabbed my bag of goodies and stood by the door awaiting my group of friends. As they slowly made their way through the checkout, the attractive guys began to whisper and snicker.
I knew it was directed at me. How could it not be? Hope began to spark in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, they thought I was cute.
My friends finished and we started to make our way out of the building when Ryan Gosling II looked my direction and called out to me.
“Hey, I heard you like to fart,” he said matter-of-factly as a smile crept at the edges of his mouth.
In horror, I came to a sickening realization. I was wearing my sleep shirt. A shirt that says, “I Heart to Fart,” given to me by my idiot of an older brother. I was mortified. How could I have been so foolish? What girl would own a shirt about farting, let alone wear it in public?
So what is a girl like me to do in a situation of mortification and humiliation? Tell a joke.
“I don’t like to fart,” I stated. “I love it.”
The attractive guys were left dumbfounded and laughing as I strode away. My friends were in hysterics, as they had watched the entire encounter. I was praised for my wit and quick comeback, and in that fleeting moment, I felt powerful. Yes, I do indeed love to fart, and I’m not ashamed.
This was my big moment of sophomore year so far. I came to the realization that I can’t fake who I am. Dressing cute is great, but I’m still that super awkward girl who resorts to humor in uncomfortable situations. I may not get a boyfriend by the time I graduate, but I will sure as hell have a few laughs.
These are the Single Girl Diaries.