Unsurprisingly, I’m pretty much an open book. Happy? You know it (and no, I’m not clapping my hands.) Sad? Not too hard to figure it out. As such, when something exciting happens, the only thing that makes it better is to be able to tell my friends all about it. While I stray away from counting my chickens, I do at least love to share the latest and greatest when I feel it’s warranted.

One of these days, I’ll learn to show some restraint.

As a single gal living far away from family and friends, it’s inevitable that they often ask if I’m dating anyone. To prevent having to go into the diatribe of the various lads who are lucky enough to wine and dine with yours truly, I usually keep it vague or mention a detail or two about the suitor of the week.

I’m going to start pleading the fifth, or stating that the dating well has gone dry (even though we all know that’s certainly not the case.) Turns out that my friends suffer from ‘over-zealous mother of a single girl’ syndrome, where they apparently have photographic memory about any and all details that I’ve mentioned.

“How’s the new guy? The one from Oregon?” “Tell me about your new catch – he went to Stanford, right?” “When do we get to meet this Doctor boyfriend of yours?”

Argh. Argh argh argh argh argh. My pride a bit scathed, I have to let them know that the Oregonian was a bit too obsessed with the outdoors, the Stanford guy was quite light on his toes, and the doctor? Well, I just don’t think I could ever be Aubrey, Mrs. Ass-Doctor.

Aubrey, when, WHEN are you going to learn?

From now on, pals, expect a surprise wedding announcement as your next insight to my love life. With the exception of vague references here, Aubrey is about to go incognito.