Give Me a Break.

I’d been meaning to get a post out to you, dear readers, to qualify what is clearly a blogging break, but my blogging imitates life and I’ve been experiencing an extended period of apathy. Apathy about my work, about my social calendar, and certainly about boys.

It happens to me sometimes, usually after an extended period of giving to others. This year’s been a doozy, complete with out-of-town weddings, multiple babies and long-time friends moving away. It can be unbelievably draining supporting others and now that I’m through the bulk of it I find I simply want to do… nothing.

So I didn’t have the push needed to put the pencil to the paper, so to speak, until this afternoon. I was in somewhat reluctant attendance at what is becoming an annual end of summer festival. This year two worlds collided, and one set of my friends met another set, a meeting that I should have engineered years ago. As it happened, group of friends #1 included The Great Blind Date, and group of friends #2 included N, whose initial reaction upon me pointing out said failed first date was “he’s not cute enough for you”.

Now what girl doesn’t want to hear that’s she’s pretty? Even from the bias of a good friend? Girls who are truly on a break. I appreciated the compliment, but after defending The Great Blind Date’s worthiness (he was smart and funny and interesting), I realized I simply didn’t care that he hadn’t been interested. It wasn’t awkward seeing him and attempting to make small talk, it wasn’t… anything.

So that’s where we’re at. I am on an indefinite break and so is the blog. I hope to be back soon.

Going to the Chapel

… where my wonderful cousin who never lost hope that she was going to get married is gonna get married! And not just married, but married to a wonderful man who loves her for the person that she is and brings out the best in her.

Which, quite honestly, is the only scenario in which one should get married. As my mother once said to me, “ anyone can get married”. It takes far less effort to get hitched than it does to find someone you truly want to share the rest of your life with.

That’s what she’s found, and I truly couldn’t be happier for her. Not just because she no longer has to date, which is reward in itself, but because despite making it to her early 30’s without having found her mate, she DID meet him. And they fell in love, and bought a house and a puppy and she’s so happy she says she has to pinch herself sometimes to believe that it’s true.

Of course I will be reprising my usual role of bridesmaid, with the added notch to MOH, which translates much closer to “Maid of Helping with every imaginable detail associated to a wedding that isn’t even yours” than “Maid of Honor”. I am honored, though, having beat out a sister and sister-in-law for the title, and I certainly have the skills for it. I even have almost everything you need for the wedding day emergency kit on hand in my condo.

So please join me in toasting to the health and happiness of the bride and groom, to an above-average selection of vodka at the bar, and that this will be my last run as a bridesmaid (or at least the maid part). Congratulations!

You Can Run but You Can't Hide

From your feelings, that is. You can avoid them for awhile, sure, by distracting yourself with anything you can find – boys, work, boys, running, boys – but eventually they’ll catch up with you and you’ll have to deal with them.

I am a master at avoiding my feelings; sometimes I hide them from myself so cleverly I literally am not aware that I’ve done it. They usually smack me down with excessive force well after the incident that caused them and then I’m stuck wading through them trying to figure out where they came from and why I ignored them in the first place. Ironically I often work through them while running.

I miss Summer Boy. There, I said it. I also said it in a text message I drunkenly drafted while out recently. I didn’t send it, thank god, but only because I’d deleted him out of my contacts after the first text I had sent him (which was a normal, albeit random, Saturday night text).

I have to say I thought I had already dealt with my feelings on this one. In fact, I’d been pretty impressed with how I hadn’t been missing him, how I hadn’t reached out when he left Chicago, how I really hadn’t felt any need to reach out to him since.

So what gives? I can’t tell if I miss him, specifically, or if I just miss having a go-to guy, but I do know that something has to be done about the weird, achy feeling I’ve started having on my insides.

I feel like I should go meet someone new, that as soon as I do I’ll stop feeling sentimental about Summer Boy, but I can’t help but drag my feet.

Because I hate dating. There, I said that, too. I hate it, and I don’t want to do it anymore and I don’t think I should have to. I was optimistic, I was hopeful! I went on many, many dates with all sorts of guys and I have nothing to show for it.

Come to think of it, despite a brief period around the start of the year I don’t think I ever really got back into first dates after I went on break last summer. My break of course, coincided with Summer Boy’s entrée into my life, which was unexpected and fun and easy.

So I guess that explains that. I miss Summer Boy because I hate dating. Therapy session over.

Best of Both Worlds

In the end I made my decision based purely on my love of German festivals. I had to rearrange my entire day, and hit all my pre-bachelorette events in my bachelorette outfit, but it was worth it for the 90 minutes or so I spent with friends, a large stein of bier (okay, two steins), some sort of tasty German sausage-jerky and a pretzel.

Turns out it I had been thinking about it all wrong. As soon as I thought it about it based on what I wanted to do, I didn’t even care whether The Great Blind Date was there. Or Marathon Guy. Or even The Bowler. If I ran into them I’d run into them (looking fabulous, as it happened).

I didn’t see any of them, though. It was a German Fest miracle!

Of course I’d like to think it wouldn’t have mattered if I had. I’m perfectly capable of being cordial with all manner of exes, but it’s nice when you don’t have to be. When you can just enjoy yourself without feeling like at any moment you might need to duck behind the sausages.

I got to have my bier and drink it too! Cheers to that.

I am Really Going to Miss This

I think you know what comes next, dear readers. Despite being thwarted by Yahoo the next time I had a few cocktails in me I couldn’t resist finding Marathon Guy’s phone number and sending him a text message. What? Like I was going to let a little thing like deleting every single email stop me?

You can improve technology all you want, but there’s always a paper trail. And by paper I mean online pdf versions of my cell phone bills which fortunately started with my new carrier *just* before I stopped talking to Marathon Guy last fall.

I tell you one thing that I’m going to miss if I ever find myself find myself in a monogamous relationship - randomly text messaging old flames and having it turn into unexpected meet ups. In this case, meet ups that come with shoulder rubs.

You can’t beat it! Especially when he showed up here, after suggesting said rub free all on his own! I had truly texted him about the hot dog stand - which apparently is very loud and all the neighbors are up in arms about it – although I know better than to say I didn't think there was a possible, albeit outside, chance that it might lead to more.

But I let him drive the meet up all on his own. It appears all it takes to invite such suggestions is one well placed text message. Sometimes I love being single.

Please Stop Saying That.

So after a breezy response from The Great Blind Date and one other email back from me I never heard back. And I was a bit disappointed, because he seemed to have some potential. Plus this particular disappointment had to be explained in a neutral way to my friend, who had expressed such high hopes for him and me. I felt a bit like I was letting her down, not being someone her friend wanted to date.

I felt a lot worse for me, of course, not being someone this guy wanted to date. And I shared this sentiment with more than one gal pal who were quick to say something like “don’t worry, you’ll meet the right guy” and other upbeat, unqualified nonsense phrases. I want people to stop saying things like that.

They might not actually be true, for one thing, and if anyone knew whether it was true you can bet your ass it isn’t my friend. Or my Magic8ball, for that matter. It doesn’t make me feel better, for another, it actually makes me feel worse. Trying to convince me that it’s just a matter of time before my Mr. Right appears only highlights the fact that he hasn’t, and it's getting harder not to feel like it’s at least partially my fault.

Without throwing myself a pity party, the older I get the more I think that my non-single friends just can’t help me as a single gal. How could they? They’ve already found their Mr. Rights, and what they remember about dating was forever ago. In fact, some of them are starting to get downright nostalgic about it. I know many of them have experienced the emotional roller coaster that dating can be, but not for nearly as long as I have.

I just don’t think they realize how draining it becomes. Oh sure, sometimes it’s fun, but over time it just turns into a huge waste of time and emotion and money and the perfect “I was at work but I’m still cute enough to meet you directly after” outfits. It’s exhausting.

I know they mean well. But to all you happy married folks with single friends, next time they come crying about some dating disaster do them a favor and just acknowledge the obvious. Dating sucks and you don’t envy them. Then you should offer to buy them a drink.

I've Already Met My Future Husband!

(not to be confused with I’ve Just Met Your Future Husband)

Things took a turn for the perplexing today when I decided to take a mental break from an overwhelming workload and ask my Magic 8ball a series of questions.

Question 1: Will I hear back from Blind Date 1? Asked after close to a two-day lag time in response to my email, which was a response to his first email to me after the FB introduction. Note: I wasn’t really worried. Yet.
Answer 1: No. Ouch, really?

Question 2: Is it because of the email I sent? Meaning, is there something about my email that is making him reluctant to write back? The Magic 8ball and I go way back, he understands what my questions mean even if the words are a bit off. I would have found a negative answer to this pretty discouraging, as I had thought my email was quite good. Open, interested, etc.
Answer 2: Very doubtful. Well that’s good, but maybe Magic 8ball doesn’t have a good read on my Blind Date. It would be pretty shitty for someone to invite you to drinks and then not accept your acceptance of said drinks.

Question 3: Will I ever hear back from my old friend? Asked because I really hadn’t, not since that terrible non-date, and that included a weekend when he was in town but clearly didn’t want to hang out with me.
Answer 3: My sources say no. Oh, bummer.

Question 4: Is it because he’s gotten back together with an ex? Asked because the only explanation I can come up with for his now reluctance to be friends is that he’s pursuing a romantic relationship and feels weird about me.
Answer 4: As I see it Yes. Man, boys are so dumb. Plus, which ex?!

I feel the need to share this latest insight with N, over gchat. She asks if I’ve ever asked the Magic 8ball whether I’ve already met my future husband. I didn't think I had, probably because it would just make me feel depressed since I wasn't anywhere near making it down the aisle with my spouse-to-be, despite having met him. And probably dated him in some fashion. But I'm not getting any younger, so...

Question 5: Have I already met my future husband?
Answer 5: Without a doubt.

Yikes. Well I guess that justifies having shut down my online dating, since I have no problem running into people I already know despite the size of the Chi. N wonders whether it’s someone I don’t even remember having met?

I don’t need my Magic 8ball to answer this one: Most likely. Now if I could just figure out which one he is...

I Say a Little Prayer for You

This weekend I did some much needed cleaning and organization around my place. While going through some old cards and letters I ran across this:

My dearest granddaughter,
This thought came to my mind while eating breakfast – Someday he’ll come along the man I love, and he’ll be big and strong, the man I love, someday. I love you, like I love all my grandchildren, so together we will keep praying that the man you love will come along.

My Grams wrote me this letter a few years ago when she was in her late 80s. Her caretaker told me she actually stopped eating breakfast to pen me this note, so concerned was she for my marital status.

When I was in my late 20s, my Grams suddenly became desperately concerned that I would die alone. She didn’t think this about any of her other seven grandchildren, one of which was several years older than I (and therefore the most likely target for spinsterhood), but she did think it was a very serious condition I was suffering from. Unprompted, she would often console me for my single status, reassuring me that he was still out there while singing old English love ballads.

I think regrets are a colossal waste of time, but if I do find a soul mate one day some part of me will regret that I was never able to introduce him to my Grams. She was fortunate to attend two of her grandchildren’s weddings and see three great-grandbabies born before she passed, but I would have liked to have relieved this one of her well-intentioned, albeit way off base worries.

Grams was a stubborn broad, though, so I take comfort in her likely having had something to do with it. Up there in heaven she can probably pick out the exact English gentleman of her choosing.

Thanks, Grams.

Be Mine, Valentine

I have never been a subscriber of mushy, gushy displays of affection, including almost everything that goes with Valentine’s Day. When a high school boyfriend once celebrated the holiday with a dozen roses, which he gave to me while driving me home after his school-night basketball game, I didn’t light up with warm and fuzzy feelings. I remember thinking they were totally unnecessary. And that I was an asshole for not getting anything for him.

To this day I remain terribly suspicious of any over the top or greeting card company manufactured demonstration of love, but there are a few gems out there who’s simplicity makes for more of a genuine display of sentiment.

Like Necco sweethearts. I know they taste terrible but how can you go wrong with their cheesy yet classic sayings like “Cutie Pie” and “Sweet Talk”? A well selected candy heart would cut straight through my disenchantment with love.

Or grade school valentines. I loved when we all made a mailbox at our desks out of a decorated shoebox or heart-shaped construction paper stapled together and then passed them out to everyone, even the smelly kids no one liked. Who wouldn’t smile at a little 2” x 3” card with a picture of a Sponge Bob reminding you to “Keep it Spongy”?

I would. And this year I could think of one such smile I’d like to inspire. Not on some guy I’m secretly crushing on, but an old friend who has reminded me of a time when I couldn’t wait to fall in love, when I believed everyone got a happy ending. So I sent him a teeny tiny valentine.

I had to buy a whole box, which by the way still costs $2.99 and came with stickers but not teeny tiny matching envelopes, but it was worth it to tell him I thought he was groovy and to "feel the happy".

I know I do.

Always a Bridesmaid

Over the holiday I was playing around on OKC and decided to take some tests instead of apply some much needed revisions to my profile. I happen to LOVE tests that analyze personality, mostly because they usually are dead on for me. (Sidenote: I think some people align with quizzes and their horoscopes and numerology and all that, and some people just don’t. I don’t take it too seriously, but every time I do one its spot on for me, so I like to use them in lieu of a professional’s opinion.)

I took the “Online Dating Persona” test and here’s what it said about me:

Appreciated for your kindness and envied for all your experience, you are The Maid of Honor.

Charismatic, affectionate, and terrific in relationships, you are what many guys would call a “perfect catch”—and you probably have many admirers, each wishing to capture your long-term love. You’re careful, extra careful, because the last thing you want is to hurt anyone. Especially some poor boy whose only crime was liking you.

We’ve deduced you’re fully capable of a dirty fling, but you do feel that post-coital attachment after hooking up. So, conscientious person that you are, you do your best to reserve physical affection for those you respect...so you can respect yourself.

Your biggest negative is the byproduct of your careful nature: indecision. You’re just as slow rejecting someone as you are accepting them.

With a few edits, it’s kind of right on. I’m terribly careful, although mostly to protect myself, and I’m terribly indecisive, often sitting on the fence indefinitely hoping the guy will decide things for me. We all know my ability to have a casual relationship without developing feelings only goes so far, and I have developed a bit of an admirer following, albeit a lame-guy one. Even the title’s appropriate; MOH #2 is coming up this summer.

My most compatible match type was “The Gentleman”, my male opposite; who I have to admit is the guy I tend to shy away from. Despite having grown up with men that treat women as I believe they should be treated, men who open doors and let women sit, order dinner and get on the elevator first, for some reason I'm instantly distrustful of a male suitor who displays these traits. I shouldn’t be, though, despite it being easy for a guy to pretend he's chivalrous if I want to end up with a respectful guy I'll have to date someone who at least acts like one.

Since I’ve already got the bridesmaid dress, I guess I should start looking for an escort. Preferably one with a tux.

"I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning"

"Smells like, victory." Kilgore

It’s a new year, dear readers, and I’ve got a new attitude to go with it. A friend asked me today whether this year was going to be “my year”, and you know what? I just decided it is. Maybe not the year I find true love, but this year is the year where I finally stop wasting time searching for it.

I’ll still be on the lookout, of course, I’m still hoping to come across it, and I understand that will take time and effort. No, what I’m talking about is not wasting any of my time and effort on anyone who isn’t amazing, who isn’t someone I can’t wait to talk to and spend time with.

That’s right, this year I stop wasting time on all those losers. Like Surf Dude. Remember him? After an entire year of silence he popped back up right before the New Year. A year to the day. He said he missed talking to me and hanging out. I bet he did. You know why? Because I am awesome to talk to and hang out with. And Surf Dude? He’s a lazy, shady douche bag who just wants to send millions of text messages to me. And several other women. At the same time. I can’t believe I wasted all that time thinking things *might* go somewhere with him. I can’t believe he thinks he can waltz back into my life after all this time and resume some semblance of a relationship (friendship or otherwise).

Of course I did try to get the scoop on Surf Dude’s shadiness, see I Did Not See This Coming, but basically he denied that the timelines were all overlapped. Said he’d been dating and breaking up in a cycle. Said he was sorry – not for being sketchy – but for having not reached out in all this time. I told him he didn’t have to answer to me, but several of those lady friends of his felt lied to. And since he wasn’t interested in giving me any gossip, I kicked his sorry ass back to the curb. Where it belongs.

ENOUGH, I say, of men who like me enough to use all their message minutes texting me but not any of their face time. ENOUGH, I say, of men who want me to do all the work in relationships. ENOUGH, I say, to the third and fourth and fifth chances, and to not wanting to be the bad guy and to not holding out for what I deserve.

Enough is Enough. Viva la 2011!

"I had a lot of dates but I decided to stay home and dye my eyebrows." Andy Warhol

For the first time in a long time I find myself not wanting what it is I thought I wanted. It’s a surprising revelation; that after having spent the last year basically dedicated to finding and sustaining a relationship that I no longer want one.

Well that’s not entirely true. I think if I met someone who I wanted to spend time with I would. And if that developed into a relationship I would embrace it. I don’t need it, though. I don’t have that craving for it or that desire to cross it off some life checklist. Most notably I don’t have that nagging feeling that I’d be more if I was part of a pair.

I wouldn’t be, you see. There would be more in my life if I was in a relationship, but there would also be less. Less flexibility in my schedule, less freedom to spend my time however I chose. It all evens out, I think, and there’s room in my life for periods of both. Maybe right now it’s more ‘me’ than ‘we’.

It wasn’t a total waste, either. On the contrary, putting that kind of time and energy into dating made me seriously address some of own insecurities. Writing about it gave me a good dose of humility and perhaps a much needed reality check. I finally think I know enough about myself to be successful in a relationship.

I don’t want to continue spending the time, energy and money on actively pursuing one, though. It’s hard work hunting for a boyfriend! Its summer and I want to enjoy it without the pressure of putting dates on my calendar.

What does my dating future hold? I don’t know, but I’ll be taking the summer off from blogging while I give myself the freedom to figure it out. When something does happen I want to enjoy it, not analyze it.

Don’t worry, dear readers, I’m sure I’ll have stories to share with you in the fall…

Back in the Saddle?

I don’t know if I would go that far, but I’m at least circling the horse. I turned my OK Cupid profile back on even though I still feel pretty anti-dating. A bit contradictory, but I’m not planning on reaching out to any men, mind you, I’m just browsing. Occasionally. If, and only if, someone interesting comes my way will I have to decide what, exactly, I’m doing.

I don’t know what I’m doing, you see. I’ve spent all this time over the past year making an effort to date, putting myself out there (online and in the real world), going out of my comfort zone, having drink after drink while getting to know all these men and really, what do I have to show for it?

Not a boyfriend, which was the primary goal. Not even a string of fun, exciting dates with engaging and handsome men, which would have been a nice consolation prize. And although I’ve been disappointed and frustrated, I actually don’t think those are the overriding feelings I’m left with.

No, I think what I have is doubt. Doubt that deliberately seeking a relationship is the best way to find one. Doubt that analyzing dating leads to improved dating. I even have some doubt as to whether I genuinely want to be in a relationship, whether I wouldn’t push it away even if it was presented to me on a silver platter.

I don’t see myself as a failure though; I’m simply following a normal evolution of thought. Doubt is part of the process. The cloudy, unsure, obnoxious part.

I will get back on the horse soon. Oh yes, as soon as I find myself a glorious stallion, I will hop into the saddle with no hesitation. And then I will take him for the ride of his life.

Down for the Count

I cried in a bathroom stall at work today. I cried because I was supposed to have a dinner date tonight. Dinner at a very nice, much too expensive for a first date restaurant with a bona fide dreamboat.

These plans were made on Wednesday, when the dinner and location and day were suggested by The Dreamboat, and agreed to by myself. Only we didn’t specify the time. He was heading out of work and said we’d figure it out later in the week. We didn’t, though, and I haven’t heard from him so I assume the date isn’t happening.

I’ve been instructed several times today to send him an email to confirm our plans myself and/or leave the door open for future plans if he had to cancel this plan for some reason. I simply cannot write that email.

I know, because I’ve tried since lunch. Mostly I don’t feel like writing that email. I feel like I’ve been stood up and that even though everything else The Dreamboat has said indicates clear interest that this one action negates all that. Even if he responded with some perfectly logical reason for having not finished planning our date that I feel like I would no longer be interested in meeting him. Not tonight. Not ever.

I know that I’m overreacting. I’m coming off a string of disappointments, so I know that my dating ego is a little more bruised than normal, but I think it’s more than that. I have been trying for awhile now to take men at their word, even when they weave tales of future romance and relationship that cannot be based on anything even remotely substantial at such an early stage of a relationship. I have given the benefit of the doubt, over and over, on the off chance that these men have lost their phones or are not familiar with dating or are intimidated by me or are very busy when they do not come through as promised. And yet even my lowest expectations are consistently not met; any optimism that I bring to meeting new men is dashed as quickly as it is established.

I am, by nature, a hopeful person. I am almost unfailingly optimistic. Recently, though, I find myself disillusioned with this desire I have for myself… that I’ll meet someone and we’ll fall in love… living happily ever after. I believe that it will happen, but with no evidence to suggest that I’m making any progress I wonder whether I shouldn’t throw in the dating towel in its entirety. I no longer exhibit the resilience needed to continue putting myself out there and my heart is taking a serious beating. I can’t help thinking I could eradicate all my feelings of failure by simply giving up.

I still hope that I do end up with someone. And I believe that if it’s meant to be I will. I do not believe, however, that any of the dating I have done in the past few years has made any difference. So for now, I am officially off the market.

No Guest Needed

This year my wedding season started early, with two weddings in the first quarter. I attended both of these weddings alone as I had no regular interest to drag along. Call me crazy, but I think I’m getting better at attending them solo. In fact, I think I’ve even hit upon some perks of being a single lady at a wedding.

Take the dancing. As a single I don’t have to cajole my date into slow dancing with me. I can count on one hand the number of married friends I have whose husbands willingly dance with them at any type of event, including weddings, and yet I do not have one single girlfriend who does not want her husband to dance with her. At every event. With no date I simply sidestep this time honored tradition.

I get to dance, though, because as a single I’m a prime target for men, young and old, who want to show off their moves. Yes, I had a very awkward time teaching the very drunk co-worker of the groom how to polka, but I also found out that with just a smidgen of encouragement the bride’s step dad was a wonderful dancer.

Who you’re sitting with can be a toss up whether you’re with guest or not so that’s sort of a wash, but in general as a single I can socialize at my own pace. Most weddings I attend are for friends I’ve known for years. I know folks from both the bride and groom’s sides, and I often know family. Not having to ensure my date is involved in engaging conversation means I can engage myself however and with whomever I please.

And then there's the financial aspect... a wedding is an expensive date! As a single my wedding gift represents me, instead of myself and my plus one. It’s cheaper, yes, but it always feels a little odd to give more at a wedding when I've brought a guest (who isn't - and shouldn't be - contributing financially).

Yep, there’s a lot of great reasons to attend a wedding solo, whether you have a steady boyfriend or not. I can still eat two pieces of cake, though, right?

A Moment of Weakness

My borrowed Match.com subscription is ending in about a week, and in thinking about whether to renew it I realized how disappointed I am in the lack of interest I’ve received these past 4 or 5 months. In fact, I’ve also been doing very poorly on OK Cupid, especially after turning off IM capability to men under 24. I decided to take full advantage of my last few days on Match.com and sent emails to 5 different guys. Not one responded. Add that to a number of CraigsList emails I had sent out with minimal response and I started the week off feeling very undesirable to the opposite sex.

Now I like to think of myself as an evolved woman, one who doesn’t define herself by the traditional societal standards. One who recognizes there are many areas that contribute to my success as a person. Certainly not someone who bases her self worth on her ability to attract and keep the attention of a desirable man.

Perhaps even more important than being evolved, I normally do well in pulling in interest. I even do well on repeat interest after initial communications and/or first dates. A lot of men find me attractive and they tell me so.

And yet, while watching The Bachelor “Women Tell All” I couldn’t help but feel terrible about myself. I needed validation, so I went back to an old standby, the Craigs List post.

I was not disappointed, and I am not ashamed that I felt markedly better about myself upon receiving not only a respectable amount of responses with decent quality content, but an impressive count of very attractive responders. Although I’ve been emailing a few guys, there are two standouts to keep your eyes on:

• The Dreamboat. Nicknamed as such for his ridiculously fit physique, the Dreamboat has a history as a competitive swimmer and current triathlon hobby for ongoing fitness, as well as being a dancing aficionado with a love of salsa. Ole!
• The Gentleman. Nickname refers to exceedingly high display of manners including getting out of the car to open the door for me and putting me back into my coat. Other pluses include being a very sexy and successful black man.

It's a temporary fix, I know. But I'd rather drown my self-worth issues in potential new mates than a pint of ice cream.

It’s All in the Company You Keep

This past weekend I was at a friend’s out of town wedding. Back last summer I was coordinating with a friend of mine who was also invited, deciding whether we might share rooms or would need our own. She was optimistic she might have a date, but I was actually thinking that bringing a guest might be less fun that going solo.

You see this wedding had all these very fun folks that I knew on my own or through the bride or groom. And I hadn’t seen a lot of those folks in awhile, some of them years. I was thinking I’d be doing a lot of catching up at the weekend events and it might be hard (read: annoying) to keep introducing a stranger. Especially if this stranger wasn’t awesome at playing with others (as so many people just aren’t, unfortunately).

Neither of us ended up bringing dates, and you know what? I didn’t even notice I was one of the very, very few singles at the wedding. And I had a really great time. It’s likely I would have had less fun with some new guy I was dating, even.

A few weeks back I was all melancholy about being left behind by my married and parental friends, and there is truth to those feelings. There’s more to it than that, though. A lot of what I love about my life right now involves the fact that I am single. I can pick up and go out of town to visit family or friends and decide to buy a season of Bears tickets on a whim and meet my pals for drinks whenever I want. I don’t have to check anyone else’s schedule or check-in when plans change on the fly…

I am a part of so many people’s lives, and will continue to be, whether I’m single or whether I’m with a partner and whether they are single or married or pregnant. Not having that partner should never take away from the incredible relationships I already do have.

Whoever he is, whenever I met him, he better bring his A game. He’ll need it to get past the fun loving and generous standards my friend’s have set.

Playing the Game

As a newby blogger I’ve been reading and commenting on other dating blogs in addition to writing my own. One that I’ve been enjoying as it makes me think, instead of just shake my head at ridiculous dating stories, is Sex, Lies and Dating in the City.

I recently commented on a post where SINgleGIRL was investigating the concept of being “in love”. Read the full post and comments here: "In Love" and Other Mysteries.

I added my two cents to the commentary: I've always realized I'd fallen in love too late, after the fact, and often after the relationship was past the point of being salvaged. It was a surprise to me, and then I had the sadness of the relationship ending plus the awareness that I was losing someone I had actually fallen for, too.

I think not being aware of my own feelings had to do with me not being ready for those feelings. Not wanting to be vulnerable. I think I loved those men, but I never quite made it to being "in love".

I guess I'm still waiting for the two to collide. Knowing you love someone WHILE you're involved with them. I'm a work in progress.

She responded with: I think we're all works in progress, emotionally and every other way. The fact that you're aware of that and willing to admit it puts you way ahead of the game.

I agree with her, in that it’s an advantage to be aware of yourself in a way that’s honest and useful. I don’t feel ahead of the game, though.

I’m thirty, thirty-one next week, and for practically two years I’ve been unsuccessfully dating. Most of the guys I meet I just don’t like enough to keep seeing. The guys I do like either aren’t interested in me, or we have issues that seem insurmountable, or I simply run away (emotionally). I’m not in a bad relationship, so that is a plus, but even though I feel like things work out in their own way I feel I must be doing something that is still holding me back.

Don’t get me wrong, being single doesn’t define me and there is plenty in my life that I love. I do want to find someone, though, and it is hard to be single when your social circle is not. I’m down to 1-2 true single friends, and most of my married friends are already into babies. For my group, I’m unbelievably behind.

It’s all relative, of course, if I had completely different friends maybe I’d feel at least like I was hanging with the pack instead of lagging behind like the lame deer. Relative or not, if I’m ahead of the game then there are a lot of single folks who aren’t even going to make it off the bench.