My Relationship Status Was Apparently Probable Cause

Wanted: By Mexican Police… Apparently for Being Single

Sneakers & Stilettos™

There are certain things you expect when crossing the border into Mexico.

Tacos? Absolutely.

Street vendors? Of course.

A little traffic? Naturally.

Being unofficially accused of committing the crime of… existing while single?

That one wasn’t on my bingo card.

Picture this.

I’m driving toward the border crossing, minding my own business, blissfully unaware that I had accidentally drifted into the border pass lane. Not intentionally. Not rebelliously. Not because I thought I had diplomatic immunity.

Just because I was, apparently, born with the navigational skills of a confused squirrel.

Cue flashing lights.

A police officer pulls me over.

He explains—with great enthusiasm—that I’ve committed a terrible offense worthy of… arrest.

Arrest.

For taking the wrong lane.

I immediately enter my favorite life mode: Panicked Polite Woman.

“Sir, I’m so sorry! I honestly didn’t know.”

He nods.

Then comes the interrogation.

“Where are you from?”

“California.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home… hopefully.”

Then…

“You have husband?”

Now, here’s where my brain betrayed me.

I don’t lie.

So I answered honestly.

“No.”

“You have boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You single?”

“Yes.”

The second the word left my mouth, my internal alarm system started screaming.

Abort mission.

Too much honesty.

Retract statement immediately.

But it was too late.

He smiled.

Not the reassuring “everything’s going to be okay” smile.

The “I’ve suddenly changed the direction of this conversation” smile.

Then he looked at me and asked…

“You’re single? At forty? That’s so weird. Why?”

Sir…

I don’t know.

Life?

Inflation?

Poor decisions?

Emotional unavailability?

The dating apps?

Mercury in retrograde?

Take your pick.

Instead, all I managed was an awkward…

“Uhhh… I don’t know… life?”

He seemed fascinated by this information, as though I had just confessed to being the last surviving unicorn.

Somehow this evolved into him suggesting that perhaps we should go out.

Then he needed my phone number.

Then perhaps we could “stay in touch.”

And somewhere mixed into this delightful negotiation…

There was also the matter of a few hundred dollars.

You know…

Just your average border experience.

Nothing suspicious about that.

At this point I wasn’t even worried about the traffic violation anymore.

I was trying to figure out how I had accidentally wandered into an episode of Law & Order: Border Dating Unit.

Eventually, after a combination of polite smiling, nervous laughter, handing over money, and mentally promising myself I’d never answer personal questions honestly ever again, I was finally allowed to continue on my way.

As I drove off, I had only one thought.

Next time someone asks if I’m single…

I have a husband.

Three children.

A Great Dane.

Two parrots.

And my husband is a retired Navy SEAL who’s following me in the car behind.

Lesson learned.

Because apparently being forty and single isn’t just a relationship status.

In some places, it’s considered suspicious.

The funny part is that I’ve spent years wondering why dating is so difficult.

Now I know.

Apparently I just needed to commit a minor traffic violation.

Still… looking back, I can laugh.

But I also recognize how uncomfortable and intimidating that moment was. It’s one thing to joke about it now. It’s another to realize how quickly an interaction with someone in authority can shift from routine to deeply unsettling.

So here’s my advice to fellow travelers:

Pay attention to the signs.

Stay aware.

Trust your instincts.

And if anyone asks why you’re single…

Just tell them your husband is waiting at home.

Even if his name is Netflix.