All My Single Ladies

There's something about being single in your twenties that people, especially Hollywood people, tend to over glamorize, as if it were some sort of fun game everyone enjoys playing. If my life were a sitcom I would be going out with a different guy every week and gabbing about it over coffee with my five best friends, most likely in the middle of the day after a tiring 1-hour waitressing shift that magically pays my Manhattan rent.

Maybe all the hype comes from people who are miserable in their relationships and long for those days of freedom. Or maybe "they" are the same people who say that high school is the best time of your life, which is a big fat lie. Anyone who says this was probably really popular in high school and later ended up fat, bald, and divorced with six kids (there is justice in this world, by the way). But more likely than not, the people who feel nostalgia for the single life either have forgotten what it's really like or met their significant other before text messaging was invented.

So many people assume that because I was Miss Michigan I hold some sort of golden ticket to the magical chocolate factory of dating. Not true. Not even close, actually, and today I am reclaiming my right to bitch about being single.

To start, I'd like to take a moment to personally recognize the individuals who have contributed to my general bitterness toward dating (I'll leave my idiot ex-boyfriend off the list, see New Year's Eve post):

Mr. Tree-Hugging MBA: We knew each other in what could only be understood as a 'more than friends' capacity. I asked him out to coffee and he took me to dinner instead. The next day he emailed me to tell me he had a girlfriend.

Mr. Life Coach: Somehow managed to make me feel awkward in every situation by questioning the motives behind everything I said. I stopped responding to his arrogant emails. He sent a final one noting his impending move to another state to inform me that I had missed my chance.

Mr. NBA Wannabe: Had a flashy job working for the Pistons and adopted all of the star player traits without the star player paycheck. This one liked to make plans and then never call. He honestly didn't believe me when I said I wasn't interested in seeing him again.

Mr. Money Bags: Picked me up in a car that cost as much as my condo. He spent half the time texting on his crackberry and the other half using me as a therapist for his family issues. I stopped responding to his calls and emails.

Mr. Balls of Steel: We had plans with a group two days in a row. He waited until we were making out to tell me that he had a female friend coming in to meet him the next day. After swearing they were just close friends and insisting that we all go out he proceeded to hold her hand through the entire evening and ignore the rest of the group. Humiliating.

Mr. Harvard and Princeton: One of my favorites... Met on New Year's Eve and somehow realized that we were both going to be in India at the same time. He invited me to be his date at that huge royal wedding I went to. He ignored me the whole time and I think he took my camera. At the very least, he watched me search for it for hours and never lifted a finger to help. Also, he admitted to having read my entire blog, which is creepy, but in case he's reading now I'd like to add that he had really bad breath and always had food stuck in the corner of his mouth. Oh, and he was nowhere near as attractive as drunk me thought he was on New Year's Eve.

Mr. Magician: Seriously, he was a magician (I don't name names, but he happens to perform nightly at the Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino) We went out on a blind date in Vegas. I called to see where he was and he said, "I'm driving a yellow Porsche". Enough said.

Mr. Wolverine: Funny law student who I totally fell for. Adorable and down to earth. We met when he emailed me to request that I escort him on stage for the Mr. Wolverine contest. Turns out he was also emailing a friend of mine and never bothered to mention it. I didn't respond to his last email, but it will likely take him some time to realize it given his track record with email response time.

And there you have it... seven good reasons I have lost faith in the male species. This is not a pity party (okay, maybe a little one), but rather a chance to call bullshit on the image of the flirtatious single twenty something having the time of her life dating all the Mr. Wrongs. I'm not saying that there aren't women who love it, but I have a feeling that there are a lot more that are as frustrated as I am with the whole scene.

The truth is, dating is hard and being single is not all it's cracked up to be. I feel like it's taboo to admit that you're looking for something serious, but the alternative is empty meaningless sex with strangers, which, in my opinion, makes looking for something serious seem less desperate. I'm not looking to get married any time soon (if at all, necessarily) but I wouldn't mind meeting someone that is totally themselves all the time; no bullshit, no secrets, no drama. To me, it's really just that simple (assuming we're mutually attracted to one another, which, according to Gina's laws of attraction, cannot be created or easily destroyed).

For now, I'm enjoying the extra free time that might otherwise be filled with phone calls, emails, and text messages. I'm choosing to be patient (read: picky) because I know the next man I fall in love with will be worth it. I just hope that whoever he is he hasn't found this blog yet. But just in case, remember that I only write about the bad ones.


gv