The Power of Single

There’s a lot to be said for being a single girl. One may not be able to see it so readily with Valentine’s Day fast approaching, but I’m here to tell you things couldn’t be any better.

I look at this time of year as a chance to fine tune my skills. To craft the subtle nuance of the hair toss, the finger trace around a damp rim, the cherry stem tied in a knot (without the aid of opposable thumbs), and the sucking of sweet droplets off the shaft of a straw. Oh my, how suggestive. I wonder what’s possessed me, could it be Saint Valentine? Are saints allowed to have a sex drive or are they immune to Cupid’s bow?

Being a mere mortal I know that I will succumb to the lure of roses and chocolates and candy (oh my). I am not a girl who will stay at home clad in flannel drinking cheap wine out of a box; not a chance. On Valentine’s Day I choose to go out and drink champagne. I make a bet with myself too. The bet I make is to see how many cocktails I can procure using the wallets of others. Please, before you think me crass I beg of you to ask yourself, wouldn’t you like to try this too?

For this adventure the wardrobe has to be just right. I want to convey a strong capable woman who isn’t afraid to be on her own yet not so powerful as to scare the suitors away. My costume of choice you ask, what does Nina wear to make mortals part with their cash? Why black seamed stockings, a push-up bra, a pencil skirt, crisp white blouse and stilettos. The intrigue of the sexy librarian is legendary.

When I pick my establishment for the evening’s game I make sure it’s high-class. I want to attract quality rather than quantity. I prefer the suitor to know a thing or two about champagne versus sparkling wine, about vintage and premium brands. From all this talk you must think me a high-class bitch when in all honesty I’m just a girl with a taste for the finer things. Why drink Tang when there’s fresh squeezed orange juice (with effervescent tiny champagne bubbles tickling my nose)?

Once my evening takes off there’s no telling where it’ll go. Cupid’s bow has a way of cutting a rather interesting path. But I tell you, with the right attitude and the proper precautions the evening can be one hell of a ride. I best make sure the stiletto strut is finely tuned and that the bra and panties match. After all, there’s no telling what items will stay on and which will come off.

So I tell you all, any strong capable woman who chooses to sit on her couch, clad in flannel, drinking boxed wine on this saintly of holidays should be ashamed of herself. Valentine’s Day is a day for the single girl to embrace her inner slut. Ready, aim, fire; let Cupid’s arrow fly.