Perpetually Single

All of you can consider my blog to be boring now. It’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings. Go ahead and file it next to the link to pay your bills or Dictionary.com. Now that I have, once again, zero love life to speak of I’m not sure if you want to hear about my nights curled up on the couch or the nights I spend at the bar crying in my beer. Forgive me for having to regress to the perpetually single girl that all of you have known (and hopefully loved a little) in the last two years. But please get used to it, I’m convinced that I am the last person on this earth without a dating life to speak of, or any on the horizon. And I believe I am doomed to walk this earth single forever.

I’m trying really hard not to be bitter. I’m sorry if you walk past me holding your boyfriends hand and I suddenly projectile vomit on you. But, if I have to lose one more good friend to some guy she wants to spend all her time with, I think I might rip all my eyelashes out one by one, and then proceed to every other hair follicle on my body. Yes, and by that I mean pubes. I guess this is just something we all have to accept as a fact of life. Everyone finds the person of his or her dreams eventually, right? I am going to have to deal with the fact that there will be a time of my life when I spend every morning and night with the same man, and try to squeeze seeing my friends for lunch between my nightly trips to the gym to work off the fat from the baby and making dinner for my chauvinistic husband who is watching football on television and drinking beer. Does anyone else find this so depressing that they want to just jump off a cliff right now? The only problem is, my Thelma’s are getting sparser as we speak. And the only way I’ll jump off a cliff is if one of my friends tells me to.

I find that my life is filled with single male friends, but I have only an easily, measily amount (although fan-fucking-tastic) single girlfriends. Why is this? Why do I feel like I hang out in a social circle filled mostly with single guys, yet there aren’t any good single guys out there? I’m convinced that if there are good guys left who are single, I’m “just friends” with every single one of them. I often find myself to be the only girl in a room full of testosterone. It’s one big sausage fest, and me. Of course, this is supposed to be great, right? The only problem is that I don’t want to sleep with any of them. And even if I did, they don’t want to sleep with me. While I don’t judge my self-worth on how much attention I receive from guys, I do get sick of always being with them. I love my girlfriends. I hate having no one to commiserate with over Matthew McCaughney no longer being single or no one to tell about my new latest and greatest pair of jeans or earrings. I don’t want to sit and listen to “stock” talk. I’m an intelligent woman, yet I couldn’t give a fuck how much a certain share went up or down, or what an effing bond is anyway. I also don’t like to sit and watch them ogle over every girl who walks by. Or listen to them talk about what nice legs that girl has, or how they can’t wait to do the “Bermuda Triangle.” (My friends John and Adam nicely informed me that this is when a guy has their fingers in a girl’s mouth and butt while they are effing her. Apparently this is the ultimate. I wouldn’t know.) The other night I found myself so disinterested in what my guy friends had to say, that I was laughing at the sports highlights on television. Yes, that’s right. I preferred watching sports highlights to trying to interject myself in their conversation.

It was at that point that I think my disposition took a turn for the sour. I’m sick of being the person who’s always single. I’m sick of not every having anyone to go to the movies with. (P.S. I’m not counting the Brit because that was a brief two-month hiatus from my perpetually single life.) I’m sick of my mom looking disappointed every time I don’t have any exciting love-life news to tell her. I can physically see her counting down the amount of time she has to enjoy grandchildren. Hell, my 17-year-old sister is closer to having children at this point than I am. At least she has a boyfriend.

At least all of you won’t have to worry about being the last girl to get married, I’m pretty sure I’ll have that spot reserved for myself. And don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated on the movies I watch in bed every single night and the amount of frozen pizza I eat. I’m heading to the bars once again tonight, and oh boy, I bet all of you can’t wait to hear about all the fun I had while you sat at home getting railed then snuggling. Catch ya later, suckers!

Currently Feeling: Like I need some retail therapy, stat!
Currently Anticipating: Eh. I guess another weekend.