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April 24, 2010 / Jenny Ann Fraser

Magic Pants Season

Last summer a family friend gave me a large bag full of clothes that she was clearing out of her closet. In it were a cute pair of cropped black canvas pants which I altered to fit me.

The first time I wore them, I was walking down a lane in my neighborhood when a nice looking man struck up a conversation and then asked me out on a date.

The next time I wore them, a very young man pulled up beside me in his car and asked for my phone number.  (For the record, he didn’t’ get it.)

Every time I wore these pants I got hit on.  Every time!

Now I have to tell you, that there is nothing special about how I look in these pants. In fact, they’re not all that great.  They don’t fit me, (it is impossible to make a pant 2 sizes smaller after they’re built,) and they’re kind of worn, but they’re really comfortable and apparently, they’re magic.

The first man who asked me out is a really nice building inspector who lives down the block from me with his teen-aged children. He’s cute, and funny and very nice, but more than a little obsessed with my looks. The first couple of times he said, “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?” I thought he was really sweet, but by the tenth time he said it I was beginning to fear that I would die from boredom. Sadly, I often feel like this.

Note to single men everywhere: A grown woman likes to know that you care about more than what she looks like.  Like her brain for instance.

I turned the conversation to him and spent the rest of the evening hearing about how he uses his free time to single-handedly destroy the environment by cruising in his muscle car, driving around the wilderness in his ATV and Boat and shooting animals.

Ok.  He doesn’t do it single-handedly, he’s taught his kids to do it too.

Yes, the camolflage seat-covers in his pick-up truck were a tip-off, but you can’t judge a book by it’s cover. Alright, you can, but it’s unfair so I try not to do it.

Then there was the nice long-haired man who took me out for dinner, complemented me on the buttons on my sweater, (only once though), talked about gross things the whole time we were eating,  and then went on a tirade about the evils of religion and how it should be illegal.

Since I am desperate to give up my freedom of thought and speech, I promptly fell in love and we’re getting married in the summer…

I actually have no idea what happened to him, but I hope he is well.

A few weeks later, I met a lovely red-haired single Dad and we hit it off immediately. By then the weather had cooled, and  I wasn’t wearing my magic pants so I had to stalk him on Facebook to get a date. It was well worth the effort.

We spent some really wonderful weeks together and it looked for once that I might finally be onto something. I was, but I had to begin the New Year by breaking up with him as neither of us really had the time or the focus required to build a serious relationship.  It was a smart move on my part as we now have a friendship that I cherish and hope will last a long time.  You can never have too many friends, and as I have had the experience of failed relationships that blossomed into friendship two other times in my life, I’m convinced it’s the way to go.

Over the course of this journey that I’m on, I’ve come to think that happiness isn’t so much an event or something that happens to you as much as it is a skill.  I’m finally beginning to understand being happy isn’t dependent on the circumstances in my life.  If I’m not happy by myself, I’m not very likely to be happy with someone else.  At least not for long.

So, as the weather warms, I’m hesitant about whether or not I want to wear the magic pants. I am happy by myself now, and it’s a nice enough place to be, that I’m thinking I might want to stay for a while.


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