When I broke up with my last boyfriend I was ecstatic to have my personal time back. It had been a long time since I’d had my own routine and I couldn’t wait to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. I had grand plans of daily visits to the gym, cooking my weird healthy meals and eating them on the couch while watching marathons of Say Yes To The Dress.

I gained ten pounds during that relationship and while he didn’t care – he loved seeing me in the buff despite the extra junk in my trunk – I was ready to take back the control of my life, shed the extra weight, and hit the single scene with my svelte new frame.

Only the reality was so, so different.

Not only is the single scene rather sad and over-saturated with douche bags, but being single is actually making me fatter!

There is something to be said about having someone around, and not just for the comfort and companionship that comes with a boyfriend. Passing the time with someone else keeps your mind occupied so you’re talking and cuddling and giggling instead of mentally surveying what’s in your fridge. And, not that I care about eating in front of a boy (trust me – I ate a burger and fries in front of some models once), but having anyone around forces me to check myself before I start grazing through the cupboards and housing anything I can get my hands on. Now that I’m alone I’m to my own devices, and apparently those devices involve dipping everything into peanut butter, whether I’m hungry or not.

And forget the gym. Since I don’t have anyone to look good for, I often give in to that fat little devil sitting on my shoulder and trade in Spinning time for catching-up-on-my-DVR time. I keep telling myself I’ll go tomorrow; I have so much free time, why wouldn’t I go? But then I don’t go. I put on sweats, think of things to melt cheese on and retire to the couch for the rest of the night. Read More »

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. Read More »

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? Read More »

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. Read More »

Something weird is happening. After a month of bitching that I don’t get asked out on dates enough, I canceled a third date. With a cute law student. If she were dead, my grandmother would be rolling in her grave right now…but instead she’s screaming at me that she’s never going to have great grandchildren.

To be honest, the boy is absolutely perfect on paper: attractive, on a similar career path as me, personable, polite… did I already say attractive? That counts as two.

But I have found a number of little, tiny reasons to be not-so-attracted to him. I don’t like the guy because he has this rare disease that causes him to spell absolutely everything wrong in his text messages. We’re not talking a mere omission of commas, I mean “Z’s” where “S’s” should be. It is a nuclear war on grammar. Read More »

I know where you are right now, Little Miss Single. Because I used to be there, too. You’re sad you don’t have a boyfriend. Your friends are going on double and triple dates, and you’re still sitting by your phone waiting for your last ditch effort at romance to call. But why is a boyfriend so essential? For as progressive and liberal we like to think we are as a society, it seems our love for single people is limited to “Sex and the City.” Sure, it’s cool when fictional characters do it, but let’s call it for what it is; it seems like the single gal in the group is usually pitied or looked down upon.

I’ve had friends tell me things ranging from, “It’s okay…you’ll be happy one day” (because obviously the only way to be happy is to get a man) to “I’m sick of defending your slutty ways” (awww you’re such a sweet friend). Why does casual dating get such a bad rap? It’s not like I go out every Friday night in a hot pink tube dress and ride a mechanical bull until a group of frat boys takes me home for a gang bang. Well, not every Friday, anyways.

Moving on… Read More »

Perusing College Candy’s fancy new cyber-digs this morning, I stumbled on this article, that I somehow missed the first time around. This article and its attendant comments cracked me up, and got me thinking about, of all things, a certain TV show you may have heard of. Ever seen the Sex and the City episode where Carrie admits that when she’s alone, she likes to stand at the kitchen counter eating crackers with jelly on them and reading Vogue, or something like that? And labeled it “secret single behavior’?

I am no devotee of SATC, but I thought that phrase was pretty genius, and started to think about the things I do when I’m totally, gloriously alone.

Now that we’re in the phase of life where living with roommates and/or significant others is par for the course, I find myself missing the weirdest things from time to time. Singing is a big one for me. Singing along to entire musical soundtracks or pop albums or whatever suits my fancy – and I mean headphones-in, top-of-my-lungs singing – while I re-organize my closet for the zillionth time and leave the rest of my room a mess.

Oooooh, or eating a plateful of random, unrelated finger/snack foods for dinner, like cheese with crackers and olives and slices of avocado and frozen spring rolls and Oreo cookies and probably an enormous bottle of coke zero (or wine, depending on the day). Eaten while sitting on the floor and watching Veronica Mars on DVD.  The list goes on. Read More »

You date, you learn. And you’d think that the people you date will just vanish of the face off the earth, because it’s only polite, right? You dealt with the waves of nausea and anxiety during the end-phase, and so they should bother you no longer.

“Should” being the key word.

I’m a fan of amicably parting ways, sure, but when you pointedly don’t is the guaranteed time that son of a bitch will come back to haunt you. So as a preventative measure you weed them out. You try to be proactive and delete them from your phone—number, email, all of it, and even those text messages and voicemails you like to listen to.

Have faith, you’ll find a new distraction, let down your guard because this one’s different, and the cycle can repeat itself all over again. Joy. In any case, you make moves and move on, and the ex, or pseudo-ex, or whatever you called him is but a distant memory.

If you haven’t guessed by now, the weeding out can bite you in the ass. Please, dear readers, learn from my mistakes. Read More »

A few nights ago, while staring idly at tiny print in a huge history book, I got a call from one of my best friends who goes to college right next to mine. Because of the rush of Back To School shenanigans, we hadn’t hung out in a few weeks, so it was nice to ignore work for a while and catch up. As she talked about her wild weeks, she mentioned that she had met two guys and had already been out with both of them once.

“It’s so weird!” she said, her voice stretching into a smile. “It’s been one and a half years of nothing, and now I’ve met two cute, nice-seeming guys in the last two weeks.”

“Dude, that is awesome.” I turned away from my history book and looked out my small window. “Just make sure you save some cute, normal guys for the rest of us.”

As my friend continued to talk excitedly, I continued to cheer her on. Because I was happy for her, you know? She’s a fabulous girl who’s completely down to earth, cute as a button, and is sure to be a famous fashion designer some day (without the bored, holier-than-thou attitude of most designers). I was glad she had found some prospects.

I was something else too, though. Something I didn’t even know I was until I hung up the phone. I was worried. If she gets a boyfriend, a tiny voice whispered in my ear, I’ll be one of the only single people I know. She can’t get a boyfriend! Maybe those guys won’t work out.

As soon as I realized I had thought those things, I felt gross. Read More »

I have said before that I have no problem with my single status, but that doesn’t mean that I am ready to spend the rest of my life that way. I love the companionship and comfort that comes with a relationship, the warm fuzzy feelings, the knowledge that someone out there finds you completely perfect.

Recently, as I lay on my couch watching yet another What Not To Wear rerun, I realized that I am finally ready for something more than weeknights alone in my apartment and weekends spent catching up on my sleep. I don’t know if I necessarily want to find the man I am going to marry, but I have had enough time to figure out who I am as a single woman (boring) and want to get out and meet some new people.

So, I began hitting the dating scene (internet and all). I approached people, emailed people and began talking with some really great guys. I was all over it. And then, as things began to move forward and the guys showed interest back, I started to freak out. Read More »