See ya later, Single Status!

It’s weird how it happens. One day you’re screaming “THIS IS MY SONG!” every time “Single Ladies” comes on at the bar, and the next…well, you’re doing the same thing, but it’s not actually true. After just over two years of being the most single person on the planet, I actually took the dive. It happened really unexpectedly with a cute acquaintance I have known for years. We started talking a little more, and things took off out of nowhere.

I used to want to jack people in the face when they said, “When you stop looking for a boyfriend, you’ll get one.” And even though that is exactly what happened, that’s still really annoying advice. I think I hate it largely because it takes the situation out of your hands; as if you have to be in some sort of cosmic state of perfect personal balance just to get a damn date. I think a better way to phrase the advice is this:

Beating yourself up over not having a boyfriend or becoming depressed that “there’s no one out there” isn’t going to make your perfect mate appear out of thin are. There are times when 5 guys ask you out in a week, and there are times when your only male interaction for months is with your Environmental Science professor (hopefully not the wrong kind of interaction…). You can control your love life, but only to a certain extent. You don’t completely control who you meet, when you meet them, or (even as much as we try) how they feel about you.

I think what these crappy advice givers mean to say is if you can be happy without a boyfriend, you won’t turn your love life into the biggest stress-sesh since applying to grad school. Hello, school is pressure, work is pressure, your parents are pressure…dating shouldn’t be. It’s not going into your GPA, so live a little. There are perks to being single, and there are perks to being coupled, so exploit what you have. Learning to enjoy your status no matter what it may be is the biggest breakthrough for women since the water bra; both help you work with what you’ve got.

While I do really dig my guy, I’m going to admit it: I already miss being single. My single friends glare at me when I say this, but I mean it. Look, just one week after finally taking the plunge into exclusivity, I met a super hot grad student from NYU while I was out (I’m pretty sure the relationship Gods were testing me). I couldn’t give him my number. It was more traumatizing for me than when my first goldfish died. So the next time you’re blubbering about flying solo, just remember; you get to mack on anyone and everyone, and you don’t have to shave your legs everyday. Love the perks while you can!

[Since Dannia went and got herself a man, we're lookin' for a new Single Lady. If you know someone who's living up the single life, have her send an email to editor@collegecandy.com. We want to share her experiences with the world.]

"What am I gonna do with my life? And why hasn't he texted me back?!"

In about 6 months, college is going to throw me out into the real world. I’m currently facing the greatest dilemma a 20-something-year-old can face; law school or grad school? Or maybe try for a job? How about travel around Europe for a month (and by “travel” I mean explore exotic drinks and dudes). But then how am I going to start paying off my student loans? And what will my parents say if I tell them I want to live on their couch for a little while (read: forever) until I find a job that pays me a lot of money to do what I love.

And with this big-giant-looming-really-effing-scary fork in the road coming up… I STILL manage to be focusing on how crappy my love life has been lately.

It took about three waves of feminism, but women have finally been allowed equality. Our lives have gotten richer. We have social lives, interests, careers, the works. Yet nothing, I mean nothing, gives us our ups and downs quite like relationships. We may not depend on a man for financial stability, but when it comes to emotional stability, it seems they’re somehow still the ones in control.

One of the best things about being single is freedom! You don’t have to plan your schedule or your decisions around anyone else. But are we doing that anyways? When I’m casually dating, it seems I’m still always waiting around for that call (or, let’s face it, text…we’re a lazy, lazy society). It’s a simple equation: I’m happy when he texts, I’m bummed when he doesn’t. And all of this for someone who I don’t really owe my precious emotions to!

And even during the dreaded dry spell, we manage to let men take our emotional reigns. When there’s not a prince charming in the picture (actually I tend to date guys who look more like Shrek…), it tends to take over our lives. Every other part of your life can be better than Nordstroms’ end of the season sale, but nothing brings you down quite like a dry spell.

Well I for one am tired of leaving my emotions to another person…especially if that other person doesn’t, you know, exist. A dating dry spell isn’t the end of the world. In fact, it could be a chance to get reacquainted with yourself and those other parts of your life you’ve been neglecting (for example, your grades!). It’s also a good way to avoid going 300 text messages over your plan because you send winky faces to your crush every hour (no wonder I can’t get a date…).

It’s hard to remember when you’re in your 20’s and being bombarded with 13 new sh*tty Sandra Bollock romantic comedies a year, but guess what… we do have other things going on in our lives besides men. Great things that can make us happier and more fulfilled that the stupid boys who aren’t beating down our doors.

Hell, it’s Friday. Get up, get dressed and go get drunk with your friends.

Without checking your phone every 15 minutes to see if a guy has texted you, please.

There's more to us than what's popping out of our dresses, you know.

I just got back from the happiest place on earth. And no, I’m not talking about Disneyland. Although Vegas is a lot LIKE Disneyland, but instead of candy you have booze and instead of rides you have prostitutes. Which I guess can be considered rides…. If I had spent more than three days there, my entire body and life would have started decaying as quickly as my morals did (just kidding guys, no secret marriages here!).

But beyond all the slot machines, free booze and horny people everywhere, Las Vegas is like single life grown in a petri dish; it’s bigger and more rampant, and it lets you observe some things. A lot of the weekend involved putting on our hottest outfits, going to the hottest places, and (hopefully) flirting with the hottest guys.  But somewhere in between flirting with the bouncer to get to the head of the line (which probably only works for Lindsay Lohan) and making eyes at the cute guy across the dance floor, it hit me: the giant singles meat market that is Las Vegas is not too far off from the giant singles meat market that is my life in Chicago.

Is the reason it’s so hard to get a date because things have just gotten too gosh darn shallow? Most of the single girls I know are pretty freaking cute, and everyone with eyes seems to wonder why they’re not taken. Well, maybe it’s because there are freaking cute girls everywhere, and they are in mass quantities at all your favorite clubs. And to all the freaking cute guys doing laps around said clubs, we ladies all look exactly the same: tight jeans, tall shoes, low tops…

And that seems to be all anyone really cares about.

I’m not opposed to getting to know people when I go out on the town at all, but to be honest, it doesn’t feel like there’s too much “getting to know” in the equation at all. A lot of it is putting on killer heels and busting out your boobs the best dance moves.

So what does that tell any potential date I meet? Sure as hell not that my favorite book is East of Eden or that I’m going to volunteer in Ecuador this summer. All it tells them is that I really, really like the song Poker Face (which is important to know if you plan on spending the rest of your life with me, obvi).

Now, I’m not hating on meeting guys at bars and clubs. I’m just saying, if you really expect something out of it, it couldn’t hurt to shake up how you go about it. Instead of luring someone onto the dance floor where he will grind his junk against your butt and it’s guaranteed the DJ will drown you out if you even pretend to care what the other is saying,  why not hang closer to the bar where you’re able to have a real conversation? And maybe instead of going for the Chuck Bass look alike, go for the guy with the quirkiest pick up line (actually, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you just went for the Chuck Bass look alike…).

You can still dress sexy and dance sexy… just make sure the guy who’s trying to get your number knows you’ve got a personality under those clip-on extensions. You’re at least guaranteed a more exciting first date. Or a first date at all.

"Oh, you have a girlfriend now? Awesome."

Fact: 100% of girls, always, look like complete sh*t at the gym. While I’m the exception to many rules, I am not the exception to this one. So you can imagine my horror, my utter horror, when I ran into a guy I used to date at the gym yesterday.

[To recap: we casually dated for about three months, during which we completely acted like a couple, but were not labeled as such. Why? Because he “doesn’t believe in relationships.”]

I asked him how he was doing, and he said school was good, blah blah blah, his girlfriend just got a new job, blah blah blah…WAIT WHAT?! Girlfriend? But…but when we were dating he said he didn’t believe in relationships! That monogamy was a sham! That labels ruined things!

My initial reactions were:
1) Jack him in the face.
2) Wait, you can’t throw a punch. Kick him in the balls.
3) Why was I not girlfriend material?

Let’s call it for what it is. There is no way in which this situation is not completely depressing. This is a person who snuggled with me, took me to dinner, told me how pretty I was, told me how smart I was, and still told me he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend. And now, just a few short months later, someone was his girlfriend someone was good enough to be his girlfriend.

And of course in my head I’m just thinking of the 10,000 ways she has to be better than me. She probably doesn’t have cellulite. She probably doesn’t have an annoying horse laugh. She probably looks like Heidi Klum, and sweats Chanel No. 5, and is as brilliant as Marie Curie, and doesn’t use run on sentences.

Since he and I stopped seeing each other, I can honestly say I’ve gotten over him. But it still hurts to find out that Mr. Non-Committal is suddenly Mr. Monogamy for someone else. And realistically I know I can’t completely blame myself…we were just two people who didn’t exactly have that connection. And now he does have that connection. With someone who is not me. Okay, I tried, but it’s not working; I’m still blaming myself!

Also running through me head is: how could I have been so STUPID? “I don’t believe in commitment?” I mean, it is one thing to take things easy and not rush the relationship, but he was flat out telling me that he never, ever intended on me being his girlfriend. He might as well have literally told me, “You are fine to spend time with until I like somebody better.”

Ultimately, I accepted someone else’s terms instead of what I really wanted. So while I won’t get all Alanis on his ass, I’m going to go ahead and say Commitment-phobic is a jackass. Way to pretend you have deeply rooted morals just to avoid growing some balls and telling the truth.

Still, I wish I had been wearing makeup and a better bra when I saw him…

Don't run away from me. I'll get you!

I just went on a date with a guy who blathered on about himself (which is only okay when I do it!), and referred to women as, and I kid you not, “dumb bitches.” Since said date last Friday, he has not called me.

And I really, really hope he does.

Look, I like to consider myself an intelligent, rational person. But what I will never get is why a person becomes 10 billion more times appealing to me when they don’t want me. The day after our date, I was actually dreading the dude calling me…I didn’t want to spend a second evening with the most egotistical person since Tucker Max (who he, by the way, actually quoted. Good role model!). But as each day went by and no call came…I suddenly found myself only focusing on his good qualities. He was smart. He was cute. He was funny (maybe he was joking when he said women were dumb bitches…). Why was his unavailability suddenly turning him from nightmare to dreamboat?

I will admit it. It’s because I, like so many women, I am utterly addicted to the chase. While bitching and moaning that I wish guys would be more honest and just tell me what they want (and stop sleeping with my roommate when I’m at home for the weekend), I’m freaking encouraging their crappy behavior. Because it’s exciting, and I don’t know what to expect next. Because if they’re so elusive, it must be worth it… I mean, if they can afford to be so picky, they must give magic orgasms or secretly be the most intelligent person on the planet!

[Picture me yelling the next paragraph, both at you AND myself. I would write it in all caps for full effect, but I don't want to remind any of us of our mothers.]

Guess what. Just because they reject you doesn’t mean they are suddenly more “worth it.” What it means is either a.) they are an indecisive douchebag who will string you along until he finally figures out how to meet his own selfish needs, or b.) they just don’t like you. Most women like to automatically assume option A, and if it helps your sanity to believe he is just a douchebag, then go for it, trash talk away!

But, even though it hurts a bit more…option B is okay too. Part of the reason I fixate on people who reject me is because I hate failure (I cried when I got a B in high school French). If someone rejects me, I suddenly feel the need to prove myself to them…and I’m guessing a lot of women have the same mindset: we may want them, but we want them to want us. But all the “chase” means is that you are spending a heck of a lot of energy trying to catch up to someone who left you in the dust miles ago. And with all the game playing and the jumping through hoops, when are you supposed to actually enjoy the relationship?

So if us women can really claim that we want nice guys, we can’t be focusing all our efforts on the dudes sending mixed signals or no signals at all. Because there are guys out there who will call you three days after a date instead of leaving you in some weird sort of two week limbo.

Don’t make him chase you while you’re chasing someone else…I’m getting exhausted just thinking about it.

A very good friend of mine recently had her heart torn into pieces by her ex-bf. Now, in my humble opinion there are two foolproof ways to try and get over this. The first option is to hook up with Jude Law. The second is to have a good old fashion ladies’ night. Since the first option is pretty implausible (though apparently possible if you nanny his children), a few of us decided that a night of female only fun was definitely in order.

I guess maybe I should have been more specific when I said, “Don’t invite any guys. It’s going to be only girls. Just women. People with vaginas. Thanks.” The first friend pulled the, “I hope you don’t mind but I invited this foreign exchange student I just met. He needs more friends!” The second sprung the the, “My boyfriend is in the area so he’s going to meet us” (By ‘meet us’ she meant come hang out for 15 minutes before they both left). The friend we planned the failed extravaganza for…you guessed it, ended up calling her ex to pick her up.

And, I’ll admit, I’m the pot calling the kettle boy-crazy… I spent a large quantity of the night in a corner texting my latest love interest.

What the e-f-f is HAPPENING? Now trust me, I understand that when you like a guy you (duh) like spending time with them. But I swear, I want to kidnap half of my friends and tape their eyes open while forcing them to watch 48 straight hours of Lifetime until they remember the meaning of female solidarity. Whether it’s a boyfriend or a boy friend or just some boy, it seems we have a hard time prying ourselves away from the opposite sex…even for one little night.

Am I allowed to be pissed off? I’m going to say yes, a bit. Mostly because I thought friendships mattered, but it seems for a lot of girls, they’re just a thing you pretend to do while waiting for a boyfriend. I get 30 texts a day from my girl friends, but if there’s a guy in the picture, I get one every two weeks (usually when they’ve fought). My roommate last year went from being one of my best friends to a girl in need of a freaking search party once she got a boyfriend (I’m serious, I didn’t see her for a month straight, and I lived. with. her.). Do boyfriends genuinely take up as much time as an internship at Vogue, or are gals making this choice?

Are your girlfriends just for filler?

Let’s hope not. Friends are a wonderful, wonderful thing…they make you laugh, they call you pretty, and you don’t even have to go down on them! Sure, it’s a delicate balancing act; you don’t want to completely ignore your friends or your significant other. But both friendships and romantic relationships are completely essential. It’s worth mastering the art.

So single or coupled, I urge you to make the effort. Come on, we are better than this! Women can talk on the phone for literally hours about nothing! So call up your favorite friend you’ve been neglecting, and talk about absolutely nothing; just don’t talk about men.

How can you tell if the person you’re talking to is actually interested in you, or just interested in an interchangeable sex buddy to use later that night? You’re too special to be referred to as “hot girl with the big rack,” so learn how to tell which guys are genuinely interested, and which guys are playing their odds with every girl in the room.

So how do you know if the guy hitting on you thinks you’re extra sexy or used the same opener and closer on a chick three feet away from you?

Unless you possess the super human ability to actually read men’s actions, it can be a tricky feat. But one sure fire way to discern whether he is talking to you or to your breasts is to try and assess the quality of conversation. It’s understandable that after a couple shots of Jack you’re not going to be discussing the impact of gender on social roles in Sri Lanka, but are the only words coming out of his mouth, “Oh baby you look like such a good kisser”? If he’s legitimately trying to get to know you, you should be able to recount 3 interesting facts he’s told you about himself, and 3 interesting facts he’s asked you about yourself. (“What color are your panties?” does NOT count).

One guy friend well known for being quite the ladies’ man (to put it politely), admitted that he can talk for hours with a girl he is interested in…but if he’s just looking for a good time, he’ll try to get her to stop conversing within the first 15 minutes. If you’ve begun making out after exchanging about three sentences, don’t count on a serious connection.

But even if he’s a master conversationalist, actions speak louder than words, sister. Are his eyes on you…or is it more like his eyes are on you, your friend, and the cocktail waitress? I’m not saying to rip out your friend’s hair extensions in a fit of jealousy if he compliments her tank top, but be aware; is he trying to work several girls at once? Guys like this will work their magic (or intoxicate) entire groups of BFFs, and then sink their claws into the one who seems most ready and willing. If he’s hitting on 6 girls at once, I wouldn’t count on him being your Romeo anytime soon.

I have enough male friends to be well aware of the ultimate “work-the-room” guy move; if he’s excusing himself to the bathroom every 15 minutes, chances are “bathroom” is code for “hot blonde on the other side of the room.” Not to say someone has to be glued to your hip all night to be interested, but if you find yourself feeling pretty ignored, chances are he wouldn’t care if you walked away.

As an ultimate rule…the clues are in the details! Body language is a big give away. Does he seem in tune with your conversation, or is he half tuned out, ready to pounce on the next busty babe that passes by? Does his laugh seem sincere, or is he kind of zoning out every five minutes while you tell stories about how you’ve always wanted a pet turtle? A way I can always tell if a guy is just making me another number on his list is if he neglects to ask how to spell my confusing, foreign name when he’s storing my number. Even if your parents didn’t bless you with an unpronounceable name, he still should ask, ”Hey, is that spelled with an I or a Y?” If he doesn’t seem to care too much about your name or area code, chances are you’re getting stored as “potential hook up number 63.” So, yes, maybe he will call you. When he’s done booty calling girls 1-62.

Casual hook ups are perfectly socially acceptable (and on birthdays and holidays, completely required). But, hey, you worked hard to be intelligent and witty. Make sure someone is getting to know how intelligent and witty you are before you partake in a game of tonsil hockey and shacking up for the evening.

I asked him if he’d like to be dating-ish. His response? He liked me enough to do away with the “-ish”. And for as much as I badger guys for being commitment phobes who don’t know what they want…I was the one who wanted to keep the “ish”.

It’s not that I don’t think he’s smart and funny and sexy and the coolest person I’ve met since Zach Braff (I know. I met Zach Braff. I’m excited for me, too). It’s just that I’ve jumped head first into things about seven times too many. And now that I know what can happen, there’s a little bit of hesitation to drop those three little letters that act as my flotation device. Am I smart or cynical?

To tell the truth, falling for someone goes exactly the same way every single time. You get giggly around them. You get antsy when they haven’t called, and then can’t hide your annoying smile when their number finally pops up. You don’t eat because joy and snuggles are fulfilling enough. And to tell the truth, it all ends the same way. In tears. And if not in tears, in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s mixed intermittently with shots of vodka.

I’ve heard of loving like you’ve never been hurt, but, come on, that’s ridiculous. Why would you take all of your experiences and shove them out of your mind just so you can date with all the wisdom of a libidinous sixteen year old? (There’s a reason no one wanted to sit with you at lunch in high school, by the way.) That’s terrible advice, loving like you’ve never been hurt.

Especially cause it’s not advice. It’s what I stupidly do every single time anyways. It’s like telling me to drink like I’ve never thrown up; it’s a bad idea that I already planned on. I know people cheat. I know people fall in and out of love faster than I can decide which panties to wear that day. I know people fall for the banging hottie at the local coffee shop while I’m still dedicating “Hey There Delilah” to them on the Mix (No wonder no one likes me). But every time a new flame’s hand brushes mine and those sparks fly, I just FORGET.

What I would rather do is learn to love like I have been hurt. You know why? Because I HAVE, and something should probably come from that. As in some discretion, wisdom, any sort of benefit at all. Just because there is finally (FINALLY) a guy willing and ready to completely open up to me doesn’t necessarily mean I’m willing and ready to do the same. And I don’t think I necessarily am required to, either; why should I have to force my emotions to move at the other person’s pace?

I don’t think it’s being jaded; I think it’s not acting like the same silly girl I was 5 years ago. It’s not even that he has to prove himself to me… I already know he’s a trustworthy guy, and as close to being a gentleman as the 19th amendment allows. It’s about proving to myself that I’m ready for my emotional side and my rational side to finally co-exist. And just because he says he’ll catch me doesn’t mean I absolutely have to jump…I have to make sure I can catch myself first.

"Why is everyone getting some besides me!?"

My roommate has recently entered a relationship with a really hot, sexy Puerto Rican guy. As a result she has been having lots of hot, sexy sex. And as a result of this, I have been hearing every detail about it.

Being open beyond acceptable social norms, this doesn’t bug me. But while we were out recently and had one too many beers (hey, at 2 bucks a pitcher, I’m only being economical at this point), she made a comment that kind of got my wheels turning.

“Gosh. I wish you were having tons of sex too so we could freaking exchange stories already.”

Pause.
What?!

“Hello, my whole ‘thing’ is that I’m okay with being single. Who the eff are you to tell me that I need a man to be happy? Also, I think you should have to pay more rent this month cause you have just severely offended me. Jerk.” I stuck my (angry) face in the pitcher and took a gulp.

She grabbed the pitcher from me, splashing Keystone all over my face, and responded calmly. “I never said I wanted you to get a boyfriend. I said I wanted you to have lots of sex. You don’t need a boyfriend for that.”

Oh. Right. I forgot that little tiny detail. Because while I believe that you can have fun, fulfillment, enjoyment, and close personal relationships without romantic relationships…I have always been on the fence over whether or not you should have sex.

I’ve never thought it was wrong to have sex without being in a relationship. Look, this isn’t the 1950’s anymore; you don’t need someone’s letterman jacket before you crawl into the backseat of his Mustang. And while I’d never consider sleeping with seven anonymous strangers in a night, I will admit there are some (okay, a BILLION) gray areas between anonymity and monogamy. If you know the person is safe, and you know you can handle it emotionally, do you really have to be in a relationship to have sex? (And at any rate, shouldn’t physical and emotional safety be things you check up on even in a relationship?)

But, I’ve just always wondered if casual sex could be as fulfilling.

While I tend to actively ignore most societal standards, I like to be aware of them. My guy friends seemed to almost unanimously agree that you didn’t need to be in a relationship to be having fulfilling sex. (Some of them even offered to help me find out for myself. Oh, how kind.)  The female counterparts seemed more divided on the issue; some of my girlfriends told me as long as you make sure he’s not a creep and he wraps his tool, sex is sex. It is a natural human need, and you don’t need a relationship to fulfill it.

And others insisted to me that the boyfriend label makes it magically better, since there is more trust, comfort, and emotion. Hey, thanks for doing absolutely nothing to help my confusion, guys.

From a purely logical standpoint (and we know how well those work in relationships, right?), I guess sex could be completely separated from relationships. Look, it’s something we all wanna do, and we’re gonna do it one way or another. We also live in a generation where commitment has become something of an urban myth, and it’s kind of sucky if we’re expected to live like nuns just because someone won’t become Facebook official with us. On the other hand, we can’t deny that for most people, sex is a very emotional thing. Even if there are no strings attached, things can still manage to get all tangled (and I’m not taking about body parts).

Right now, considering I’m not getting any, the idea of sex outside of a relationship is looking pretty, pretty good. But I just don’t know where I stand (lay?) on the topic. I guess I’ll have plently of time to mull it over during this little dry spell drought.

I thought I would be at least 25 before this became an issue. I’m a bridesmaid. Yes, blah blah, happy occasion, etc, etc. But let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

First, I have to lose enough weight that the size 4 dress I ordered actually fits (I got a little overzealous after my skinny pants fit.) Second, I am the only bridesmaid who does not have a long term boyfriend. Meaning I either attend several wedding functions as the only solo gal, or I shell out some major cash dollaz for one of my guy friends to fly out to the wedding with me. Both options are giving me ulcers. Third, I’m jealous. Not that my friend is happy (because I’m amazingly glad she is) or because I want a husband (oh no, no, absolutely not), but because she has her whole life figured out…and I’m still deciding which kegger to go to tomorrow night.

I guess she’s an adult. And while my Harry Potter posters and cupboard full of Lucky Charms would have you believe otherwise, I guess I’m sort of, kind of an adult too. And if this is the beginning of adulthood, I’m so far really bad at it. One of my best friends from high school is getting married. My other two best friends (the other lovely bridesmaids) are at least in relationships that will give them the emotional skills to one day be married. I’m busy trying to casually find out if the hot guy I work with is single so that I can maybe flirt with him.

Why do they get to be real people when I’m still like an 8th grader with a legal ID?

I know, I know…I’m only 21, which is quite a few train stops away from Spinsterville. But at this rate, I’ll finally enter a long term relationship while they’re sending their kids off to college. Are they moving too quickly, or am I moving too slowly? I asked my rational side her opinion on the matter while moping over a bag of Taco Bell (maybe I should’ve ordered the size 6 dress).

It’s a little hard to accept, but when the four of us went off to college, we all had different experiences which made us different people. I still love them, but my three best friends became the “quiet, settled” down types. I became the “overly extraverted, borderline ridiculous” type. And while they may be ready to settle down in a year or two, I would be gnawing my way through the white picket fence just to get out of there.

It’s a perfectly good answer; we all lead different lives, we’re all moving at different paces. They’re not weird for getting married to people they truly love and care for, and I’m not weird for not being married when I’ve just legally been allowed to drink a PBR. And yet I still can’t help but feeling exactly how I did when I was the last one to get a date to prom: incapable of normal social function.

Has my emotional development somehow been stunted, or have I just not found the right person? Who knew being a bridesmaid would give me such an existential crisis…