By Rachel King
It was an ordinary Monday evening… or so I thought.
Chapter began as usual: important announcements were made, plans for the week were laid out and girls were spotlighted for their efforts in various activities. That’s when the words I so dreaded to hear were uttered: “Barn dance is this Friday.”
My eyes began clouding over as I searched the room for worried faces, only to see bright smiles at the news. Meanwhile, I thought to myself, did I really have less than one week left to find a date? Where had the time gone? And how on earth would I manage to find a date so quickly?
And so it began: my journey to find a dashing yet suitable escort for that week’s barn dance four days later.
Never had I before noticed the strikingly high number of eligible bachelors at our school.
I found them huddled together in packs at the UGL, walking along Green Street, in my lecture halls, on the Quad and basically everywhere else on campus.
With all these attractive men wandering around, I wondered, how hard could finding a date really be?
Apparently, very hard.
Tuesday and Wednesday flew by, and I was beginning to discern that many of the bachelors who initially appeared eligible were not so eligible.
Some had girlfriends, others were incapable of holding a conversation. Some had only one brain cell left, others were know-it-alls. Some had more than a few quirks, others were lack-luster.
After narrowing down all my options considerably, I was left with fewer fish in the sea than I had anticipated. It turns out having standards makes finding a date very hard. Who would have thought?
Thursday night was fast approaching, and still, no date. I was just about to give up when, all of a sudden, I saw a figure in the light of a lamppost in the distance. Instinctually, I ambled on toward the light.
As the unmoving figure grew larger and larger, I grew more and more nervous, wondering what kind of deep desperation must have possessed me to go after this stranger.
The figure had its back to me, and when I finally arrived, I announced my presence valiantly in the hopes that a man had been sent my way to end my date troubles once and for all.
“Excuse me?” my voice quivered.
The figure turned around.
“Sarah?” I asked, stupefied; I was face-to-face with my friend.
“Oh, hey!” she exclaimed, clearly unaware of my mission. “What’s up? I’m just waiting for the bus.”
I stood there for a moment debating my next move. Then it came to me.
“Do you want to go to barn dance with me tomorrow?”
“Sure!” she said happily.
It was at that second that I realized that I didn’t need a man to make me feel like I belonged. I just needed someone who cared about me and was always up for a good time. In this case, that someone was my best friend.
The Spread 