One is the new two

Haven’t you heard, being single is the new happy.

I have a friend who dates several men but she considers herself single.

No one to slip their laundry into your wash load.

No one’s dysfunctional family to deal with during the holidays.

No one to fight with over how to spend your Friday nights.

Life is simple when you’re single.

You want to go to a party?

You go.

You don’t tentatively accept pending a collaboration with your partner.

I’m happy being single.

It’s easy for me.

As easy as breathing out and breathing in.

Yes, there are things I miss.

Snuggling for one.

And someone to watch movies with on a Saturday night at home without feeling like a loser, for another.

But I’m making my peace with being perpetually single.

Haven’t you heard?

One is the new two.

The world is FILLED with endless possibilities.

The Elephant in the Room

It might be time to discuss the elephant in the room.

Namely, the fact that I’ve been single for nearly a decade with not a boyfriend in sight.

A decade does seem like an unusually long time to find love.

I’m not complaining, mind you, just noticing that it does bother me a little.

Especially when I have friends who seem to leap from relationship to relationship with hardly a break in between.

I wonder, is there something wrong with me?

Am I somehow broken or damaged?

Imperfect in ways that make me unlovable?

Of course, it’s really not about me, is it?

It’s about serendipity.

The irony is that the older I get, the more suitable I become for a relationship yet the farther away it all seems to be.

I’ve never felt more alone, going through another cancer scare by myself with my family and friends for support.

Where’s my significant other?

Late, apparently.

But if the old adage is true, and good things come to those who wait, then every day brings me one step closer to complete happiness.

I’m not saying a romance is the end-all-be-all, just that I’m expecting a landslide of good karma to come round to me again at some point in the near future.

Eventually, the stars and planets will align and I’ll find what I’m missing, no?

And I can’t wait to banish the elephant from the room.

Nobody loves me

Valentine’s Day is creeping up on me like a bad toe fungus and I find myself in the uncomfortable position once again of being single for a holiday that celebrates couplehood.

I can practically feel the bile rising in my throat when I think of all the sugary sweet sentiments that will be posted onto Facebook for couples celebrating being a couple.

It’s downright nauseating.

Of all the holidays, this is my LEAST favorite.

I can dress up for Halloween.

I can buy gifts for Christmas.

I can cook a ham for Easter.

Eat Mexican food on Cinco de Mayo.

All of these holidays are easy to participate in.

But not so much Valentine’s Day.

And there’s nothing I dislike more than feeling LEFT OUT.

But left out is what I am.

I am reminded of a song a gentleman sang for me in college:

“Nobody love me.

Nobody cares.

Nobody feeds me peaches and pears.”

So, you have been forewarned to expect quite a bit of sass out of me as this holiday approaches.

Because I’m sure as hell not pleased that (yet again) I must survive another fucking Valentine’s Day ALONE.

Thanks for the goddamn reminder!

Magic is what you make of it

Disney loveMagic always comes with a prince

At least that’s what Disney and Hollywood lead you to believe.

Of course lately, there’s been less focus on the prince and more focus on the heroine, but you get the picture – love, above all, makes the story.

And how are we single ladies supposed to feel about this in real life?

Well, I’ll tell you, being single has never hurt my social life. In fact, I think I get out more and do more things simply because I don’t have a partner to hang out at home with eating pizza and drinking beer with on a Saturday night.

Being single didn’t hurt me when I was racing cars at the Stockton 99.

image

Being single especially didn’t hurt me when I was leaping from an airplane with a hot man and a parachute strapped to my back.

And it certainly didn’t hurt me when I went to the Alameda County Fairgrounds and ran with the bulls.

photo 4No, being single hasn’t hurt one bit.

Even my more carnal urges somehow manage to get taken care of.

So what then is my life missing without a man to “complete” me?

The answer is nothing.

I have friends and family who give me love and camaraderie and lovers who give me intimacy.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

Sure, it’s magical when life and love come with a prince.

But it sure as hell isn’t required.

Magic, is what you make of it.

I’m a man-eating whore (just kidding)

I’m a man-eating whore.

At least I MUST be since I write this blog about sex, dating, and relationships.

Okay, maybe I don’t write about relationships. But trust me, if I had a relationship, I would be writing about it.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy being single.  Every available (unmarried and unattached) man I meet is an opportunity to make a connection.

But there are times when being the single girl sucks.

Like when a married woman assumes if you’re talking to her husband you’ve got designs on him.

Or when you’re the only single at a couples party (á la Bridget Jones).

Or. . .

. . .when the wife of a friend CONTACTS YOUR SISTER to accuse you of trying to steal her husband because. . .

. . .wait for it. . .

. . .you replied to his IM on Facebook.

Indeed.

So there you have it.

This man-eating whore with the trashy blog is obviously so lacking in morals she would message A MARRIED MAN.

Better put a scarlet letter on me. Or maybe stamp “tramp” on my forehead.

Obviously, I’ve committed a grievous offense.

You know what I have to say about it?

HATERS GONNA HATE.

image

Burner

The problem with being single for 14 years

There’s a teeny tiny problem with having been single for 14 years.

I haven’t really had to compromise for 14 years.

I haven’t taken anyone else’s opinion into consideration because it’s just been me.

For 14 years!

That’s a long time to develop habits:

And not all those habits are good.

  • Like not soliciting feedback from others before making important decisions.
  • Or making choices based on impulse instead of reason.
  • Sleeping with my dates on a whim instead of basing it on compatibility.

I’m shit at resisting my impulses.

So it’s unusual for me to be with someone who reminds me to FUCKING PACE MYSELF.

There’s no rush.

Take your time and think things through.

On the other hand, I’ve developed some really stellar habits:

  • Like self-reliance.
  • And an unwillingness to sacrifice my happiness for another (a bad co-dependent habit).
  • A willingness to experiment with my life in non-mainstream ways.

Some of my life experimentations were bound to resonate with me and now I struggle to find the right man for me.

  • One who will help me compromise for the right reasons.
  • Fight impulse with logic and reasoning, but without losing my spontaneity.
  • And respect my decisions as leading to my happiness.

Gone are the days where your standard vanilla man could complete me.

Right now, it’s gonna take a burner – past, present, or future.

Date yourself

Once upon a time I was a young(ish) woman working at a local university in a little part time administrative position.

The man I worked for was one of the top 10 social psychologists of the 20th century.

One day, I came in to work and told my boss that I needed to get a full time job because I was getting divorced.

And it was then that I got the best advice I’ve ever received in my life.

The professor looked at me for a moment then said, “You need some hobbies.  Get out in nature.  Find adventures.  Volunteer for those less fortunate.  Take the focus off yourself and put it where it needs to be – on your family and on other people who need your help.”

I took those words to heart.

After all, if the NFL hires this professor to give a $15,000 keynote address, who am I to scoff in the face of his advice.

I joined several non-profits.

I volunteered.

And I started adventuring out.

I stopped focusing on the shit-show that was my divorce (don’t worry, we’re fine now) and I paid attention to all the beautiful and wonderful activities that the Bay Area provides.

In the 15 years since my divorce, I’ve only dated three men which means I’ve spent a lot of time single.

Instead of waiting for some man to show up to start living my life, I opted to start dating myself.

I took myself out with friends to all the restaurants I wanted to go to.

I brought my boys with me to movies.

I convinced family and friends to go on adventures with me.

I have not suffered for lack of a steady man in my life.

Dating yourself has its perks:

  1. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want.
  2. No one complains that it’s taking too long to get to your destination.
  3. No need to share the bed, you can roll for miles.
  4. No competitive facebooking your adventures with someone else.

In the end, I feel awfully proud of myself for living my life thoroughly without a man there to support me.

I even went to one of the most inhospitable environments known to man – the Black Rock Desert – and I lived my life there for a week.

Four times.

Everyone should date themselves.

It’s a blast!

I’ll never love again

I’m okay being single.

It’s MUCH better than being in a dead-end relationship.

I know a few people in that kind of relationship.

Sometimes it just makes me want to scream – HOW CAN THEY BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WHILE I’M NOT?!

But truthfully, I haven’t met anyone who I think could be long term material.

When I look back on the last 14 years since my divorce, I realize that I wasn’t ready for a permanent relationship.

I needed some work.

Dare I say it:

I was a little unbalanced and needed time to process.

Now that I’ve had the time to work on me, I’m still not finding anyone out there who is appropriate for me.

And it worries me for one reason:

I feel like I’ll never love again.

It’s not being single that bothers me (cuz it’s kinda fun), it’s the thought of being ENDLESSLY single that bothers me.

The idea that part of my life is over with somehow and will never ever be resurrected scares me.

I’ll never have a plus one for weddings.

I’ll always drive my tires bald because there’s no one to remind me to change them.

I’ll never have to question where I’m spending the holidays because it’s just me.

But most of all I worry that I’ll never fall in love again.

And as fun as casual sex is, I’m kinda hoping for something a little more stimulating.

That’s right.

I said it.

I want more.

Magic is what you make of it

Disney loveMagic always comes with a prince

At least that’s what Disney and Hollywood lead you to believe.

Of course lately, there’s been less focus on the prince and more focus on the heroine, but you get the picture – love, above all, makes the story.

And how are we single ladies supposed to feel about this in real life?

Well, I’ll tell you, being single has never hurt my social life. In fact, I think I get out more and do more things simply because I don’t have a partner to hang out at home with eating pizza and drinking beer with on a Saturday night.

Being single didn’t hurt me when I was racing cars at the Stockton 99.

image

Being single especially didn’t hurt me when I was leaping from an airplane with a hot man and a parachute strapped to my back.

And it certainly didn’t hurt me when I went to the Alameda County Fairgrounds and ran with the bulls.

photo 4No, being single hasn’t hurt one bit.

Even my more carnal urges somehow manage to get taken care of.

So what then is my life missing without a man to “complete” me?

The answer is nothing.

I have friends and family who give me love and camaraderie and lovers who give me intimacy.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

Sure, it’s magical when life and love come with a prince.

But it sure as hell isn’t required.

Magic, is what you make of it.

Nobody loves me

Valentine’s Day is creeping up on me like a bad toe fungus and I find myself in the uncomfortable position once again of being single for a holiday that celebrates couplehood.

I can practically feel the bile rising in my throat when I think of all the sugary sweet sentiments that will be posted onto Facebook for couples celebrating being a couple.

It’s downright nauseating.

Of all the holidays, this is my LEAST favorite.

I can dress up for Halloween.

I can buy gifts for Christmas.

I can cook a ham for Easter.

Eat Mexican food on Cinco de Mayo.

All of these holidays are easy to participate in.

But not so much Valentine’s Day.

And there’s nothing I dislike more than feeling LEFT OUT.

But left out is what I am.

I am reminded of a song a gentleman sang for me in college:

“Nobody love me.

Nobody cares.

Nobody feeds me peaches and pears.”

So, you have been forewarned to expect quite a bit of sass out of me as this holiday approaches.

Because I’m sure as hell not pleased that (yet again) I must survive another fucking Valentine’s Day ALONE.

Thanks for the goddamn reminder!