The Best Advice I Can Give All My Single Friends

“I’ve been dating since I was fifteen! I’m exhausted! Where is he?”
– Charlotte, Sex and the City

Ever since I was a little girl, I had imagined myself married with at least one child by now. This is definitely not my reality. Although my parents chose to have me a little later in life, they married in their twenties. My twenties were spent being optimistically cautious through college while dating a cornucopia of guys who were totally wrong for me.

Back then, finding a guy to date was the easiest thing I did. What I didn’t understand was that in order to accomplish the ultimate goal of this dating party, I needed to find someone who was actually compatible with me. At the time, I think I was just looking for someone attractive to be my date for sorority functions. But time and time again, I found that their attractiveness didn’t get them very far. I would fixate on someone and then convince myself that we should be together. Then, when their third eye would appear, I put on my track shoes and bolted for the door.

It wasn’t until my thirties that I began to see I was doing this all wrong. I was laid off from MCI WorldCom, had split from ex-fiancé number 4, and was about to move to Charlotte for the first job opportunity in my field that had come up since the layoffs. The night before my big move, I was out with my friends celebrating and met someone. We dated 3.5 years even though we lived in different cities for at least a year and a half. I was crazy about him. He was charming and handsome, but he never actually saw me. As a result of being charming and handsome, he never saw anyone else for anything more than their outward appearance. When I moved home, he started to become more dominant. We fought a lot. The relationship revolved around what he wanted. He started belittling me to make himself feel larger. I ended it, thinking I’d get better results. I thought that if he lost me, he’d appreciate me more. Instead, he used the opportunity to start dating other women. A few days after our split, I ran into him… on a date. I was crushed, but eventually got over it.

At that point, the general atmosphere of dating shifted. People were dating online . This added instant gratification to the act of dating. People started not to appreciate one another. Everyone was replaceable. Pictures held a higher importance than text. No one cared what was on the inside if all your angles were flattering. Everything was superficial.

I spent years getting lost in the online dating quagmire. Then I did the best thing I could possibly have done for myself. I adopted a dog.

In this digital age, where we all swipe right to get what we want, unconditional love is a precious commodity. When you adopt a dog, you gain what most dating relationships lack. Respect, comfort and unconditional love. When I adopted Quincy, my focus shifted more toward taking care of myself, him, my parents, and my house. I didn’t need to be with anyone. I was fine all by myself. I found myself turning down dates and other social events based on this scale: If I would rather be home with my dog, my RSVP is No.

Quincy gave me back everything I’d wasted on the guys who didn’t deserve me. He’s always there for me. He makes me laugh. And he’s far and away the best at snuggling. Instead of focusing on the next guy to come along, I put my effort into my friendships, my house and my hobbies. I decided that if I were to spend another minute with a guy, he needed to add to my life, not complicate it or hold me back.

So my advice is this:

If you’re single and frustrated because so far dating has shown you all of what you don’t want and none of what you do… adopt a pet. It will change your perspective in brilliant ways. Treasure your alone time, because if you don’t like spending time with yourself, no one else will either.

 

Advertisements

Excerpts from Guyvile

I once dated a guy who told me that his mother would ask him what was wrong with me if he told her I’d never been married at my age… instead of taking into account the fact that he lived in a small, sterile apartment with walls covered in photographs or artwork of nude or partially nude women. In lieu of a sofa, he had an over-sized bean bag chair that he insisted I run in and jump on as soon as I walked in the door. I refused. This was probably another strike against me. The place was so sterile that I was almost afraid to touch or move anything. Seriously. It was “serial killer sterile.” No clutter, no stray hairs, no implements left in plan view, not even a remote control or a fruit bowl, only the most pristine of surfaces… In hindsight, I probably should have checked the freezer for severed heads on my way out.

He was a programmer of some sort and a freelance photographer. As you could guess, his preference was to separate women from their clothing before photographing them. This, among so many other things, didn’t sit well with me. Walking into an apartment with walls covered in naked bodies is as intimidating for a grownup as walking into a dorm room strewn with centerfolds is for a co-ed.

And as if that weren’t enough, he had this tendon on his jaw that attached to his eyelid. This meant that when you were sitting directly across from him at a table, he could be looking down at his food and simultaneously looking AT YOU. The tendon would pull his eye open and closed as he chewed. It was the epitome of creepy. Since our breakup, I now refer to him (not so affectionately) as “Poe.”

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture –a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees –very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
– Edgar Allan Poe “The Tell-Tale Heart”


Flash-forward to just last week.

Drag-Makeup Guy was a problematic over-texter. I probably set an unfair precedent by responding fairly quickly, so when I turned my attention to anything other than him, he started to ask what was wrong when I didn’t respond immediately. This only increased my lag time.

He also liked to use really big words. Usually I very much appreciate this in a counterpart, HOWEVER, he did it CONSTANTLY. This, coupled with his I-know-more-big-words-than-you-nyah-nyah attitude ended up sabotaging him more often than not since he lacked the skill of properly using most of his large vocabulary in a sentence.

IMG_5274[1]

The weekend of our ONE DATE, I had stayed out late on a Sunday (which I very seldom do) to catch a concert. I was dead on my feet the next day and couldn’t wait to get home to rest. He couldn’t stop texting. But in the subtext of the texts he seemed to be scolding me for being out on a school night in the first place. I’d only known him a few days at best, so I found this odd and decided to mention my discomfort. He didn’t take this well. We exchanged a few text pleasantries in the days that followed and then the texts stopped altogether… for about 2 weeks. I turned my attention to all the things that needed doing and did them, not giving him a second thought.

That Monday was the beginning of a very busy week. Out of the blue he texted “You still alive?” I didn’t respond. I was fighting a cold, cooking dinner for my parents 3 nights that week, squeezing in an exercise class and attending the citizen’s police academy. He could wait.

Evidently he couldn’t.

IMG_5574[1]

And evidently my auto-correct likes to change TIME to THE ME when I fat-finger something similar in a text message. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Besides, he deleted me anyway. What a relief!


My friend Lisa attempted to set me up with a guy she knows. It appears that she thought highly of him because he passed himself off as a big time music promoter and all-around hot shot. In real life, he lives with his mom, works in a furniture store, and thinks so highly of himself that he throws himself a birthday party each year and hires mildly successful bands just so he can charge admission and call it the “Social Event of the Year.” It isn’t. In fact, I’d never even heard of it… or him for that matter. The crowd he runs in is rife with leathery, weather-beaten ex-rocker types determined to recapture whatever glory they can siphon from their hard-rockin youth. He’s right at home at the center of this, still living out his big hair 80’s dream complete with bedazzled jeans and Ed Hardy shirts.

I’m not exactly sure why Lisa thought this would work out.

He was very tall, long legs and a short torso that carried a large beer belly. If you asked me his body shape, I’d say “Lollipop?” He made a point of telling me that he had Diabetes right up front, which is no laughing matter, but he seemed to not take it seriously. Then he made a point of telling me that he could control it if he wanted to, but for now he’s just taking daily insulin shots because he doesn’t have time to deal with it. When he told me he drank sweet tea and ate donuts for breakfast and mostly only had time for fast food, I tried to educate him about the importance of protein & how easy it would be to substitute a protein bar or shake. He turned up his nose like a small child at the idea.

We went on one good date, on Valentine’s Day, to which he wore an old sweater that reeked of body odor and bad cologne with really worn-out jeans. (Did I mention that he took me to a really nice restaurant which was only serving prix fixe? He said he’d brought a suit with him, but he arrived too late to change into it. *Insert audible groan here*) The date was brief and pleasant, which most first dates are.

Then we went on one bad date, but because since he was Lisa’s friend I was really trying to see some redeeming qualities in him. However, in the meantime, he would text me so furiously that I hardly had time for anything else. (Now you see why I’m not fond of over-texters.)

We were NOT a match. The way he saw the world and the way I saw the world were such opposite perspectives. But it was difficult to get rid of someone who kept driving 2 hours to see you. When our last date ended rather abruptly, I was just relieved it was over. A few hours later the barrage of texts began again and I blocked him. No point in beating a dead horse. Move on Buddy.

A few weeks later, Lisa told me to unblock him on my phone and social media because he wanted to apologize. I figured I’d never hear the end of it until I did, so…

He texted, apologized, then went around and around baiting me for an apology. I responded, “Sincere apologies expect nothing in return.” What followed was the absolute meanest text vomit I have ever received in my life.

IMG_5575[1]IMG_5576[1]

I save those for days when I’m feeling just a little too big for my britches and need to be knocked down a few pegs.

I think it’s time to just delete all of it now.

chill-homie