as an unattached 30 year old i’ve discovered that society (and my friends/family) expects me to subject myself to an obnoxious ritual that, while heinous and annoying, might lead me to true love:

dating.

i know, I KNOW… everybody does it and it’s not that bad and it’s so interesting to hear people’s stories and just have fun with it and i’ll never get anywhere with a bad-itude and blah, blah, BLAH.

I KNOW!

and the funny thing is, for how annoying i find the whole ritual, i’m good at it. ridiculously good. as in, i’ve never NOT been asked for date #2 good. but i simply can’t take it anymore. i’ve been on a million dates and i’m over it like justin timberlake is over britney spears. (still one of the greatest tragedies of my time. *siiiiigh*)

dating: it’s just soooo much effort, i’m selfish with my free time and i don’t wanna do it. i’m sick of having the same conversations over & over. i don’t wanna ask and be asked “so, what do you do?” i don’t wanna explain that i hate drinking booze while my date chugs his beer like a frat boy. i don’t wanna spend more than 4 minutes getting foxified only to arrive and think, i wore foundation for this? honestly, some dates are just a complete waste of makeup.

i will say, however, i enjoy being in a relationship. i’d like to just skip the dating/getting to know him part and be safely nestled in a healthy relationship with an intelligent, sweet, attractive, funny guy who likes sitting at home with me and reading a book. please? pretty please? i implore you… genie from the lamp? fairy godmother? santa baby? easter bunny? tooth fairy?

there are some people who actually enjoy dating. they call themselves optimists (and i usually play for their team), but just for today, i’d like to call them annoying as f*@k.

listen up, annoying, i am allowed to have a bad-itude right now. i recently met a boy i didn’t mind putting on makeup for…incredibly cute, really interesting, smart, and funny. too good to be true? YUP! right when i started getting stars in my eyes over him, i was rudely introduced to his complete emotional unavailability. it was an unexpected slap in the face. and i’m annoyed.

currently, i have no clue where he is (figuratively, of course), he might be in the land of bipolar men where he has been made king, good for him! he clearly wasn’t the prince i made him out to be. (*sigh*) it’s rough facing disappointment where you once held hope.

i’ve been at this dating crap since the summer of ‘69. (at least it feels like that long…) i’m ready for my mister to come knocking on my door with a bouquet of peonies, nice shoes, a chunky watch he’ll let me borrow, and the ability to fit all his baggage into a teeny tiny carry-on.

so, just for today, let me complain. let me bitch. let me whine. it won’t last (i’m an optimist at my core). and i’ll start missing companionship after a few weeks (read: days) of feeling sorry for myself. or till i feel the need to share my bed. whichever comes first. (i miss spooning. and those late night talks you have when lying in bed together. i long for that…)

i’ll be the first to admit i’m a hopeful romantic and each boy in my life has been better than the last so i’m thrilled for the possibility of the next. i can only imagine how awesome he’ll be… (see? that darn optimist in me won’t shut up…even when i’m THIS frustrated with dating!)

in the meantime, i’m going to enjoy my solo status. i intend to shop in sweat pants, grow my leg hair long and focus on putting the spark back into my relationship with my rabbit.

during my dating time-out i’m looking forward to: being selfish with my time, not wearing makeup, lounging in comfy pants, catching up on my reading, forgetting to shave my legs, and appreciating delightful bunny ears.

a-men.