The Single Tax

I've been unattached for 10 months now and have recently noticed a disturbing trend in the way we singletons are being discriminated against. When I realised how oblivious I had been to these injustices I started examining various events that I had previously brushed off as "awkward" and "shitty." In my ruminations I discovered a startling truth: Single people are being taxed for their lifestyle choice! Let's look at the evidence:

Case 1: The Sporting Event
I am invited to a CFL football game by a friend and her boyfriend. They tell me there are cheap tickets; only $12.50. I say count me in. The catch is that the tickets are actually only sold in packets of TWO for $25.

Single tax: $12.50

Case 2: The Social Club
My friend Aaron (also a leper, er, single) and I are both new to Calgary and we decide that a great way to meet new people while exercising and enjoying the gorgeous natural wonders is to join a hiking club. While filling out our forms we notice that a summer membership for 1 is $35, while couples are invited to join for $50.

Single tax: $10

Case 3: The Vacation
The invitation arrives in the mail for my cousin's wedding at a resort in Mexico. Sand, sun, drinks... what could be better? My parents will be paying $2000 for their room, while dateless me will shell out $1350.

Single tax: $350

Don't get me wrong I know that my partner-less existence costs more in rent, bills, partying, etc. and I gladly pay that price for my independence. However, if there's something I love almost as much as my freedom, its my money. I wonder if I'll eventually be motivated to find a boyfriend out of love or poverty?

I did this!

This weekend I felt totally empowered when I bought a bike AND a bike rack and manged to assemble and mount everything all by myself in the parking lot. For someone who can be a bit of a princess when it comes to doing things myself it was a big achievement. If fact, I felt sort of like how I would imagine a new mom would feel bringing home her first born... I checked and rechecked the straps on the rack, making sure everything was properly tightened and secure. I was so nervous I drove incredibly cautiously and kept looking in the rear view mirror to make sure the bike hadn't, you know, fallen off the back of the car. Ok, maybe that part wasn't so much like having a baby. But I'm sure everyone will be glad to know we both made it home fine and are doing well.*It should be noted that the sense of pride and above picture were only realised when I actually pulled into my parking spot. Phew!

Drunk in FM

Drunk + Ft. McMurray + internet = ?