Single Girl in the Suburbs

The musings of a 20-something who ended up single and in a sleepy suburb. Then she fell in love and moved to a city. Turns out life isn't a fairy tale. Her heart got broken. And dating isn't much better in the city.

You’re single because you’re single. It’s not because you texted too much or too little or waited 33 minutes to respond because he took 23. It’s not because you met up with your ex that night at 5 a.m. that no one knows about, or because you kissed another boy after a date with a loser.

You’re not single because you spit food on that date or tripped coming out the the movie theatre. You’re not single because you hurt your first boyfriend really badly when you were 15 or because you have yet, to this day, to apologize. It’s not because you were secretly jealous when your friend got a boyfriend or that a guy you dated for two months now has a really cute girlfriend and looks really happy. And you’re happy for him. But still ill that he found someone before you.

You’re not single because you slept with your ex boyfriend. You’re not single because half the world found out when you didn’t even want to remember it yourself. You’re not single because you think the guy your friend wants to hook you up with is ugly or not tall enough. It’s not because you’re not willing to put up with someone who doesn’t brush their teeth on a regular basis.

You’re not single because your standards are too high. Good for you for having standards. It’s not because you didn’t like that really, really good guy who wanted to take you on a date and you just weren’t feeling it. And it’s not because you like to wear pajama pants as soon as you get home and wash all the makeup off your face. You’re not single because you didn’t learn enough from the past or would rather chill on a Friday night with your blanket and a cold beer than shower, get ready, and go out. You’re not single because something is wrong with you.

You are single because you are single. It’s really as simple as that. You haven’t made the connection with another heart yet. You can get dolled up, dress cute, cut your hair, dye your hair, tweeze your eyebrows, put on lipstick and you may still. be. single. You can go out to a bar hoping to meet the love of your life and not find a damn one in the place attractive. And it’s going to remain that way until it’s time for you to find one. Stop hoping for it. Start living the life that you do have instead of wishing for things that you don’t have. There will come a time you’ll meet a boy and you’ll have to give up some of this single freedom you currently have. Start being more thankful. Start doing that now.

Why You’re Single by Amanda Crute (via framesjanco)

This is flawless.

(via wanderlustandsuch)

Hell to the yes.

(via hitchcockismyhomeboy)

Double heart. 

(via hitchcockismyhomeboy)

Men are scum

Okay, not all of them. But, I mean, come on. 

At work today I was outside of my regular routine. I was standing around waiting for a meeting to start when this guy comes up and starts talking to me. He was super hot. And nice and we chatted about what we do and where we’re from and other such small talk. 

Then he asked for my number. I was pretty pumped, scrawled it down on a piece of paper. 

But something was offsetting. He kept his left hand in his pocket. Even when he reached out to touch me on the arm, he kept the hand in his pocket. 

An hour later, I walked past him again when he didn’t realize I was walking by. And there it was: a wedding ring. It was nice and shiny, looked like it could even be new. 

WTF? 

Don’t get me wrong, totally pumped about getting hit on and regardless of who is doing the hitting it can be a self esteem boost. But a married dude? Why do men do these things? This is clearly not going to happen. I’m not about the married guys. And fortunately, I doubt I’ll ever see him again. But I just can’t get over the WTF factor. 

I get it Barney

So this month I set out to watch the entire series of How I Met Your Mother. I’m on season six, which is probably a testiment to how much time I’ve spent on my couch. (If you ruin the next two seasons for me in the comment section, I will hunt you down.)

But I realized several things while watching it. I realized that I’m kind of like Ted, in that I really want to find someone and live happily ever after. And I’m also very much like Robin, in that I’m successful and career driven and terrified of commitment. 

But tonight I realized how I’m like Barney. Being the wing is a gratifying and full filling experience. Barney wasn’t playing wing for no reason, he was doing it because it’s one of the best things to do in a bar.

Tonight, I played wing woman to a friend. This really hot guy asked me to take him home with me. And instead of jumping at the opportunity to hook up with a Greek god of a man, I turned and said, “Have you met my friend [insert her name?]” (I actually used Barney’s exact line which made me feel a little lame at the time.) I pointed to my friend who was going through a breakup this weekend. And she ended up making out with the super hot guy in the bar. She doesn’t think she’ll ever see him again, but she was beaming when we left the bar. She was glowing and elated and walking above cloud nine. (I also put my bottle of mace in her hand and told her if anyone, including super hot guy, stopped her on her way home she was to use it.) 

As I walked home I smiled. I knew that I was going to be alone when I climbed into bed tonight, but that was okay. I helped a friend out. My friend being happy made me happy. 

I was texting with another friend of mine and he asked what was going to make me happy. (I kept pressing him this week to figure out what made him happy, so he turned the tables on me.) 

Patience. 

That’s what, hard as it is, is making me happy. 

Tonight wasn’t my night. Tomorrow probably won’t be either. But I realized why Giggles is such a problem. I realized I keep telling him yes because I have no reason to tell him no. But that’s not what I want. I don’t want no-reason-to-say-no. I want a reason to say yes. And that might take waiting. And the wait might be long. I might tell some guys yes for no reason in the interim. But that’s okay. 

Knowing that if I hold out, a reason to say yes will come along is reason enough to smile. 

Indignation

It’s important, in my opinion, to be self aware about the kind of things that are going to be potential problems in relationships as you start dating. 

Prime example: I’m a workaholic. 

I love my job, it’s super demanding but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

So last week I went on a date with a guy who seemed to share my call for self awareness. The night before while we were texting about setting up a time and place, he told me that he hadn’t finished college “yet” and if it was a deal breaker that I should just tell him. Normally, I tend to think a college degree is mandatory. But this guy expressed an amount of awareness and seemed really nice, so I figured I would hear him out. 

So we went out and hit it off and things were going great. Then he told me what he does, he works at a grocery store. And he isn’t in school right now. And I started to get a little uncertain. But he was really cute and seemed really smart and we hit it off. 

Then my boss started bothering me, sending me a bunch of emails on my phone. And in an effort to get them to leave me alone, I pulled out my laptop and responded. (It was a weeknight date and I had it because I had left work and gone straight to the date and didn’t have time to go home.) I know this isn’t a good thing to do, but heck, this is life and it’s my life and sometimes my boss bugs me at all hours. It’s just unavoidable.

So I didn’t hear from the guy for a few days and a week later he messages me to ask if I want to go out again. And then he says something along the lines of he didn’t know what to make of me using my phone and my computer. I explained, it wasn’t that I was bored or disinterested. It was that work was bugging me and I sent him a link to explain what it was I had to do. 

That’s when things went downhill. 

He responds by telling me that he expected my undivided attention and that he can’t go out with me because he refused to play second fiddle. That he needed to be the most important thing on the date. 

I overflowed with indignation. I really wanted to respond, YOU WORK AT A FUCKING GROCERY STORE, CLEARY YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE A DEMANDING JOB. But I didn’t. 

And furthermore, I still haven’t figured out why he sent me a message asking me out again if he was just going to say he couldn’t handle me and my job. 

This whole episode has only proven to reinforce my previous bias. Add no-college degree to the deal breaker list. 

To clean or not to clean

Last week was a tad hectic. 

But first to get to the matter at hand. Friday night I went out with this guy, we’ll call him Giggles because his laugh is kind of annoying. And well, I drank a bunch and ended up going home with him. It had been a LONG time since I had seen any action and truthfully, I need to break the slump. So I made a good bad decision. No regrets. 

But he asked me out again. And we have plans for dinner tonight. I figured, I could give him another chance. Maybe his laugh wasn’t that annoying. Plus, the sex was amazing. 

Here’s my problem. My apartment is a disaster. And going back to his place would be logistically problematic. I could do one of those real quick cleans that makes it presentable enough. Or I could go into the date thinking there will be no hooking up afterward. One of my guy friends thinks that if I hooked up with him last week, he’s going to have expectations. I think that given logistics and it being a week night and we both have to go to work tomorrow that there isn’t an expectation.

I am certain of a few things. I hate it when I have to make a decision hours before a date that will undoubtedly affect the outcome of the date, ie. to shave or not to shave, to wear really cute underwear or not, to bring a phone charger with me.  And I know this post is a procrastination tactic at deciding. 

The real sucky part about dating

I used to think that the bad part about dating was all the miserable dates. Heck, I created a whole blog about bad dates. 

But I no longer think the bad part about dating is the dates part. It’s the going home part. 

For a while, going on dates meant going home with someone. It meant climbing into bed and having sex, even if it was drunk sloppy sex, and then falling asleep in someone arms. Or with our feet touching because sometimes you’re just too hot and stick to actually touch each other while you’re sleeping. 

Now, going on dates is this reminder that once upon a time I was a happy and in a relationship and now I’m trying to fend for myself in this unpredictable world of singledom. Now, I’m trying to figure people out and make snap decisions and not feel bad for wanting to lemon law a guy. 

I’ve been on two dates this week. That brings the number of guys I’ve been on dates with in the past year to four. I’ve got another tomorrow. That means I will this week I will have dated more different guys than I have in the past year. When it rains, it pours.

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An early morning rant

Last night I posted a quick exchange with a guy who send me a ridiculous email on OkCupid asking “so what pick up line actually work’s on you? lol” to which I responded, “Ones with proper capitalization that don’t involve ‘lol.’”

This morning I woke up to two new messages from this guy. The first: “Would you have preferred me to have said haha? haha”

And then 10 minutes later, "You know I’m a really nice guy. I help people as much as I can. I’m friendly and try to make friend’s not enemies. But I’ll tell you something. That was a really bitchy move on your end. You need to have someone clean that sand out of your vagina."

I may have lost it a tad. Something he said just rubbed me the wrong way (pun sort of intended.) So I may have just let lose. Here was my response:

Let me explain this to you. 

If you’re a “really nice guy,” you’re doing an awful job showing it. You know what a pick up line is? Clearly, not. Because a pick up line is essentially part of a philosophy that if you whisper the right, pre-made line at me, I’ll swoon and fall for you instantly. That if you utter some corny combination of words, I’ll just be dying to take my clothes off for you. Asking what pick up line works is like asking me what kind of cheap I am. 

Here’s a novel idea, my profile is hundreds of words long. There are a myriad of topics that I am interested in. For christ sake, I saw a perfect game. There wasn’t one thing in that entire profile that seemed like a topic you could start a conversation from? Did you even read the profile or just look at the pictures? Because, if you’re looking for “pick up lines,” your best bet is to start a discussion on a shared interest. Unless you’re idea of a date is to just keep repeating canned lines, having a conversation about something is generally encouraged. 

Next, this whole online dating thing is a essentially a series of first impressions. The first impression you give someone is the message you send. Failing to expend the energy it takes to hit the shift key when composing a one-sentence message just looks lazy. Take this as a piece of advice because I know I’m not the only woman who feels this way. Just capitalize the first word of the sentence. Clearly, since you can spell “vagina,” I’m guessing you made it past the second grade and know that sentences start with capital letters. Speaking of making it past the second grade, if you are trying to meet women on an online dating website, I also assume you’re not a sixteen year old girl. Sixteen year old girls giggle at the end of every sentence. Since you’re not a sixteen year old girl, ending sentences in “lol” seems ridiculous. What was funny? You didn’t tell a joke, you just insulted me, so I’m not entirely sure what was funny. 

Finally, I’m a nice woman. I’m trying to make friends not enemies. I generally like people and look for the good in the world. But when someone uses misogynistic lines like suggesting that there is sand in my vagina, it makes me unhappy. There’s no sand in my vagina. And if you ever want to feel the inside of a woman’s vagina again, I would not use that phrase. It suggests that my being annoyed with your advances was a product of being an angry woman, not what it actually is, that I’m a rational person with levels of decency that found your objectification of me inappropriate and responded with sarcasm. That doesn’t mean I have sand in my vagina, that means you struck out.

Have a nice day. 

Try not that one. 

Try not that one. 

The other side of the looking glass

One of my guy friends joined the hectic world of the online dating. I had to help him set up the profile. That also meant I had to help him write a message to the first woman he found interesting.

It’s interesting to see a guy sort of freak out about the same online dating things that I hear women freak out about. I normally think that dudes are just thumbing through the photos and giving very little thought to their actual profile. But that’s unfair of me. They can stress about whether their favorite books is off putting or they come off as a jerk.

It’s been nice perspective.