Reason #1: Why I Need a Boyfriend

I'm sitting here on my laptop eating a brown rice cake . . an organic brown rice cake . . and dreaming of the delicious chocolate candy that Big Sky Girl just informed me she has the secret family recipe for. I haven't tried said candy yet, but if it's good enough for people to make high dollar offers for the recipe, it must be pretty amazing. So I'm dreaming of the candy . . along with all other consumable substances, because again . . I'm eating a brown rice cake and anything would taste better than this. Dieting sucks.

But, although it sucks, when combined with consistent workouts, I'm hoping it helps me drop a few pounds before I head home in a few weeks. I just can't let my family see me like this! The muffin-topping and the painted-on pants are just too much for my loved ones to have to witness. I'm supposed to come back happy, healthy, and glowing, because life in the District is good . . and the food in the District is really good. If somebody's paying for the filet, you better believe I'm eating the whole thing. And if my roommate wants to make cookies, how could I rudely turn one down . . or two, or three, or more? So now, here I am, embarassed to say that I am totally out of shape, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the phrase. The shape of my body? Not.the.same. Oh, but it will be again. Even if I have to remove desserts from my diet forever . . . except of course when Best Friend and I reunite a few times a year and go for Cold Stone . . because you don't mess with tradition.

Tonight I decided I need a boyfriend. And I'm not gonna lie . . I decide that pretty frequently. It's not a matter of wanting one you see. I'm talking about need. There is logic that has gone into this. And my reasoning tonight would be strictly for safety purposes. I'm 5'2", blonde, and well . . who cares how short or what color my hair is . . I'm a woman! And being a woman in D.C. occasionally presents you with serious transportation issues. All I want to be able to do is visit my friend, chat for as long and 'til as late as my heart desires, and go home. But it's not that easy. How will I get home? Metro? Sorry, don't want to walk or metro in the dark, especially on the weekend. Cab? Sorry, don't often carry cash or want to pay $15-20 to get home (plus New Girl told me she was sexually assaulted by a cab driver once). Drive my car? That would be the best option if parking were available, but it's not.

So I was stuck at Big Sky Girl's tonight. And I needed a boyfriend to come pick me up. To drop whatever he's doing and come get me. That is what they're for, isn't it?

Well . . . as we all know, I don't have one of those, because apparently "the time isn't right for me" . . but let me just say that the time felt very right tonight . . and feels very right every time I face a transportation dilemma. As much as I'd like to think I could whoop a mugger's a$$ if confronted or at least properly handle my pepper spray, I'd rather not take my chances.

I was left with only one option tonight . . to call the only boy who would be willing to pick me up. Don't gasp. Don't judge me. I wasn't trying to take advantage of his affection for me . . I just wanted to make it home o.k., and I figured maybe he did, too. Believe me, it was hard to even call and ask. BSG can vouch for the amount of stuttering and silent pauses I went through before I could even ask the favor. And he sighed. And he came. And I wonder if the words "I've never been mad at you a day in my life" would still be an honest description of how he feels about me. But, I'm very thankful. So I'm going to make him some pretty phenomenal cookies that will make him wish he could pick me up all the time if the rewards would always be so sweet. Yes, I'll make him cookies . . . unless BSG wants me to help her make some of that candy she was bragging about . . (BSG, I promise to leave the room for the 'secret step'.)