Dear God, I wish I didn’t see this. Can someone please get this woman into rehab? (Or my bikini waxer?)

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All around me, my friends are dropping like flies into the pool of relationships. I suppose when you’re perpetually single, it seems like this is always the case, but trust me; it’s even more the case now. Maybe it’s because we’re all getting older and the time for settling down is dawning on many a resigned party goer in my social circle. Maybe it’s because biological clocks are ticking (I keep hearing from guys that we women have these clocks – I don’t buy it – but maybe some women do?). But whatever it is that is happening to everyone around me…I’m immune to it.

I’m so good at being single that it actually scares me a little bit. I had steady boyfriends until I was 20 and then – suddenly – I just wasn’t interested in it anymore. I didn’t wanna be vulnerable anymore, I didn’t want to be the center of anyone’s life. I didn’t want to have to report back to anyone about what time I’ll be getting in. I didn’t want to have to share my bed anymore. I didn’t care if anyone loved me; I knew my friends and family loved me. I just didn’t…care. Everyone said it would pass, but it didn’t. I’m 24 now and the only boyfriend I’ve had in the last 4 years was a very short-lived long distance relationship, which I think I could only handle because of the distance.

I genuinely like being single. I like living for me. I like not mixing up my goals and plans with someone else’s. I like waking up alone. I like getting up and traveling to whatever city I want, at any time, without even thinking to discuss it with someone else. I love single life. Doesn’t anyone else?

(photo from: morningside8.com)

There are traits that many women share, as well as traits that a lot of men have, it’s just a fact rooted in ratios; the only time a problem arises is when someone uses those ratios to make thoughtless, stupid remarks.

Like Tom Mitchelson, a journalist for the Daily Mail.

On a whim, Mitchelson decided to live as he “imagined a woman might” (imagined is the key word here), detailing a week’s worth of thoughts into a article so full of derogatory feminine oversimplifications that it’s a good thing I have no idea where he lives.

“I worried about cellulite, obsessed about finding the right partner and thought constantly about my biological clock” Mitchelson details, adding “Pints are out; spritzers (as in wine coolers. WINE COOLERS!!) are in.”

“Westerns are gone (except Brokeback Mountain), to be replaced by romances…I ring my mother every day, buy flowers, read my horoscope, pluck my eyebrows and browse the chick-lit section of the bookshop.”

Hmmm, I know MY day as a woman isn’t complete without fixating over having a baby and hoping my horoscope will tell me if I should give the flowers I just bought to the guy I’m “obsessing” over.

I mean, honestly.

Mitchelson goes even farther into stereotype land when he suddenly explains his week thinking as a woman isn’t complete without going on a diet and being concerned with fitting into his jeans has “suddenly…become very important”.

Nowhere in the article does Mitchelson go into the deeper issues of being a woman, and how could he? Eating some freeze-dried ice cream and riding a roller coaster doesn’t make me an astronaut for a day. It just makes me a person who once ate freeze-dried ice cream.

Tommy boy can talk to me after he’s used a tampon, walked home alone at 2 AM, listened to some stranger catcall him for three blocks, and have a boss call him ‘honey’.

…AND tried a wine cooler. That sh*t’s disgusting.