Claire Conger

Take a powder, Dr Phil, I don’t need you! Yet.

It seems that I did not scare away Potential Boyfriend Number, whatever number he was, One!, the guy who couldn’t do a handstand. (See Scaring Men by Being too Good: What Does Dr Phil Have to Say?)

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With a little encouragement from my friend Isabella, I got brave and went to my local Good Vibrations store. (See The Character of Me: Do I Really Want a Man?) My, my! They have are all kinds of things—things I’d be happy not to know existed!

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What’s the difference between shame and embarrassment? They seem sort of the same to me, so I thought I’d look them up in my favorite dictionary, Merriam-Webster online at m-w.com.*

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So yesterday, while we were sitting in the sun waiting for wind, my friend Isabella and I were hashing over ex’s. We pretty much concluded that we like being single.

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My mother thinks that the reason I don’t have a man is because I scare them. Maybe she’s right.

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