Picked up, put down

If you believe that 'the only man a girl can depend on is her daddy' - uttered ny that famous philosopher Frenchie in Grease - and Daddy's not exactly the role model of reliability, then surely there is no hope for me?
I've learnt from trial and error that it's always best to expect the worst so you are never disappointed, or so the theory goes.
That is, however, until an outside factor, such as modern technology, blurs the edges of where the blame truly lies.
I had a date last Sunday, or at least I should have, had the SIM card in my phone not decided after four months that it was in fact, invalid and packed in.
This left me dsolate and crying into the calorific ice cream I'd resisted on my equally desolate Valentine's date with, well, me.
When he didn't show I immediatley thought the worst.
A very apologetic email on Tuesday explained he'd had to work and thought I'b been blanking him for calling off, so he probably and understandably worried about the response he'd get from me if he'd reached me.
If he had my home number, he would have called.
I had limited my eight avenues of communication to only two, one of which was now not working, the other only accessible from work. Adding to his list would surely only be adding to my disappointment if he didn't use it. Damage limitation.
Gone are the days we girls would stay in just in case he called, dialling the operator only to hear "No, yhere's no fault with your line. Or his."
We can't now blame the fact that we were out, or he wasn't near a phone for the lack of verbal intercourse. Until my invalid phone packed in, I had it on and with me 24/7, able to check every few minutes in case there was that little envelope signalling that I had mail and more importantly, I had male.
There is too much pressure on the caller and the called nowadays.
As if this was not bad enough, someone had to ask the question every 'single' person hates. If I knew the answer I wouldn't be single. Simple as.
It's like asking someone who has lost something where they last had it, because if they knew that, they'd know where to look.
On returning from a night out, a friend was asked by her intended why I didn't have a boyfriend, because I was 'funny'.
Funny ha ha? Or funny as in a sandwich short?
I'd had funny before - been there, done that, told the jokes. Now, I needed something else. What was I lacking? Except a boyfriend.
The question : "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" should go to Room 101.
Mothers, I have found, are the worstperpetrators. Mine is determined to marry me off to my boy-space-friend, and thinks I can't see the sly glance at anyone who's looking when I mention his name.
Moving on from a question every singleton fears, to one a certain girlfriend is dying to hear, imagine the scene.
After four years with her firdt true love, my pre-engaged friend was whisked away on a romantic weekend for Valentine's Day. Well, she said romantic, he said dirty. Could this be it?
Over dinner, her partner leaned over and says: " What would you do if I proposed to you, right here, right now?"
She barely had time to take in this momentous question before he sat back and laughed: "I'm not going to, like, but what if I did?"
It wasn't the first time an evil tease like this had occured. She's bee built up and let down so many times she felt like a Lego brick.
Before the trip she was going mad, knowing that he wouldn't be as stereotypical as to propose on 'the most romantic day of the year™'. but secretly, still had everything crossed.
I say ditch the pressure of waiting for him to ask her and use our one in four oppurtunity to do the asking.
Only in Scotland could there be, since 1288, a law that the knave who declines your proposal on a leap year and can not prove he is bothered to another, can be fined anything from a kiss to payment for a silk dress or a pair of gloves. I love this country.
Before I'd finished reading this, I had a list of highly unsuitable fellows, with an article of footwear cross-referenced alongside his name. After all, a silk dress or a pair of gloves was all very well, but in today's money that could buy me that top I had my eye on or the shoes I'd ditched for my Roberto Vianni's.
If only I could get my hands on this piece of legislation for gravitas.
We're all under pressure in one way or another, whether single, engaged, married or divorced, in love, work or money.
But this week, the biggest pressure of all lies with my gentleman caller who called off, to see just how he's going to make it up to me.
Answers on a postcard....