Looking For A GSOH

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Suddenly single? Look no further than your Websters dictionary...

Submitted: September 16, 2006

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 16, 2006



We live in interesting times.

Having jogged up and down the marital aisle on more than one occasion, I have certainly experienced long stints of 'singledom', and I can happily report that it isn't half-bad at all.

Actually, being single had loads of fun and exciting benefits.

When one is single one can wake up in the morning knowing full well that one looks like a woolly mammoth and not have to worry about rushing to the bathroom for swift and radical treatment before the lump snoring next to you wakes up and realizes that he has wined, dined and played 'footsies' with Alf the alien.

One can also throw one's underwear willy-nilly around the house if one really wants to. In fact, ducking and weaving in amongst the jungle of stockings drip-drying around the living room can really help in honing one's orientation skills.

Finding oneself single again also has great plusses as far as one's diet is concerned. Curling up on those cold, winter nights with three packets of chocolate biscuits and no "Umm..weren't you trying to lose weight?" does fantastic things for one's self-denial.

It wasn't until I had attended several weddings and numerous baptisms (not to mention the odd dinner party for eight, where I found myself furiously debating sex, politics and religion opposite an empty chair) that I began to wonder if this new found freedom couldn't be enhanced by the occasional date ( not to mention the occasional snog.)
It had been some time since I ventured forth into the modern day 'dating' scene, so I approached my other single friends for some advice.

Harriet the 'legal-eagle' advised me that the best way to meet a man was to make my way to the nearest book store.

"In order to hook yourself the best catch," she told me over our habitual mid-week latte session, " make yourself seen in the aisle where all the "Financial Growth" books are. Bury your head in one of those "Get Rich Quick" manuals, and you'll have a potential media mogul sniffing around your neck in no time at all."

Of course, I had to ask her about the success rate of this scheme.

"Works like a charm. Believe me. I just had dinner with an obscenely wealthy insurance executive who I met whilst flipping through a copy of "Think Big and get Greedy Vol. III." He couldn't resist me."

And was this relationship evolving into anything serious?

"Well, as long as the fraud case pending against him gets overturned, I am sure we will be able to explore longer-term possibilities."

My dear friend Marilyn, who works at the local RSL Club, took a slightly different angle.

"Yeah, well, ya just got to be yourself, ya know? Take last Friday night. I had just finished wiping down the bar and emptying the kegs, when this guy walks over and asks me if I could give him some change for the poker machines and a beer. I mean, you gotta read between the lines, girlfriend."

I see, and what was it exactly that you read between the lines?

"Oh, nuffin much. He wanted change for the Poker machines and a beer. But I knew he was after me just by the way he hung around the bar long enuff to cough up some black stuff. Then he asked me to sell him some cigarettes. I mean, he could have gone to the cigarette machine couldn't he have?"

I kindly thanked Marilyn for her helpful advice, and let her know that I would give it some careful consideration if I found myself hankering for a chain-smoking, beer-swilling, problem-gambler in the near future.

Feeling a little frustrated, I turned to my colleague Diane, who I have always held in great esteem. Mainly because she is always honest and she has great taste in shoes.

"Dear heart," she said gently taking my hand and patting it sympathetically, while she continued to fiddle with the fax machine. "Take the short cut. Don't waste your time on clubs and pubs. I have found that the single ads in the paper allow you to pick and choose who you would like to date. It's rather like deciding on whether you want Prada low heels or Gucci straps."
The tears of joy were glistening in my eyes as I bowed down to kiss her Versace leather pumps.

The newsagent attendant commented about how I must be really interested in current affairs as I staggered out of the shop armed with every available publication in the country.

Not long after, I found myself sitting at home in my comfortable slippers and bathrobe. I threw open the first paper and read eagerly through the columns of potential suitors.
It took me a few minutes to realize that I was having trouble deciphering the printed descriptions and information.


Well, Darrell was a nice name to be sure, but I was mildly concerned that he might have a few problems with his English.

Suddenly it hit me.
It was a clever use of acronyms. Probably used to give an extra air of "mystique."
But what could they possibly mean?

GSOH- Ground-shaking Sex On Heater? Gluttonous Slob Owing Housepayments?

After two hours of scratching my head and reading through various dictionaries and thesauruses I managed to crack the code. I discovered that GSOH was all about having a 'Good Sense Of Humor', which is a must in my books, more so than any sex on heaters anyway.

I finally ran my eyes over a small, two-line submission that I thought might just fit the bill.

Barry: Single and unattached (okay, so he had to really push the point home about his availability.) Non-smoker, social drinker. Looking for lady who is intelligent and loves to be spoiled.

It certainly sounded like 'Barry' was my kind of guy.

We had a couple of conversations on the phone, and I learnt some very interesting things about 'Barry'.
He told me he worked in the medical industry (ALWAYS a good start) and that he wanted to meet a woman who could truly communicate with him. Could this be true? Could 'Barry' be the soft and sensitive man that I had been looking for?

Feeling bold and confident, I suggested we meet for coffee that weekend. He was more than happy to do so, and let me know that he would be wearing jeans, and a blue shirt. He also mentioned that he would arrive with a bunch of flowers and a killer sense of humor.
Come and get me big boy!

The coffee and the scones at the Sunny Cafe have always had a reputation for being the best quality and the most 'palatable' in the city. Lucky for me that this was true, because our 'Barry' couldn't have been anything less.

As it turned out, Barry did work in the "medical industry"- as a kitchen hand at the local hospital, and as promised, he did arrive wearing a blue shirt and jeans. The blue shirt had a dark stain that covered most of the front pocket. 'Barry' was quick to explain that it had only happened three days ago when he was a bit too heavy-handed with the ketchup bottle. The flowers were nice, and he told me with pride that the plastic stems would mean that they would be 'easy to maintain' at home. His "killer sense of humor" which consisted of nothing but endless "fart and boob" jokes certainly killed off something, namely my appetite.

I let him down lightly and insisted on paying the bill. It had been fun I explained, but urgent and pressing matters had come to hand and could not be neglected: I had to get home to wash my hair.

Life is a little bit different these days.

I am happily married to a man whom I met six years ago. He is kind, charming and scarily considerate. He is also a fantastic cook, has an USAHSOH (loosely translated as Unbelievably Sharp And Hilarious Sense Of Humor) and is an all-round unique human being who loves me for everything I am and want to be. He even loves my early-morning 'mammoth' appearance.
We have traveled extensively together and we support each other's ideas, hopes and dreams.
It is an easy and blissful existence.

How did I meet such a fabulous partner?
Well, I didn't have to drag myself to any smoky Services Club or stand around with my nose in a book about "Making Shady Money" .. 

He was my next-door-neighbor. 

We certainly do live in interesting times.

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