Let me preface this by saying, this post in no way shape or form has to do with fitness, trends, health or nutrition.
It has everything to do with how challenging it is to date at the ripe age of 28. Or, for the sake of those reading this and sharing my relationship-less woes, late twenties and beyond.
Now that we’ve got that disclaimer out of the way, let’s set the stage, shall we?
I had my first ‘boyfriend’ in 7th grade. In reality, we didn’t even talk to one another. There were locker meet ups and the occasional hand holding, but beyond that having a BF in middle school mostly meant nerve-racking co-ed dances and awkward conversations.
High school, honestly, I was boring. I played 3 seasons of sports and had a solid group of friends. Boys (and yes, I’m calling them boys) were the least of my concern. I was still asked to Prom and semi-formals, but I was pinning corsages on my best guy friends, not boyfriends.
Then came college — again, boring. Aside from a long distance stint my sophomore year, I kept my focus on three things: Doing well in school, hanging out with my friends, and drinking far too many rum and diets while at happy hour on Fridays.
Then came post-college. Ugh. The challenge of leaving your best friends and finally becoming an adult. Finding a job and paying rent quickly became my concern, leaving dating on the back burner. Side note: Since this era was pre-Tinder, I was not swiping for BFs, but instead serving them, as I was a cocktail waitress when I first moved to Boston.
Relieved I wouldn’t become an old, withering cat lady I finally found someone I could stand for more than one week. We met at work, dated, met each others family and friends and enjoyed a mere one year relationship. And while we ended on good terms, I remember thinking … ‘This dating thing? I’ve got this.’
That was 3 years ago. Been single ever since.
I’ve swiped, liked, winked and messaged my way to some very interesting dates over the past few years. But as my friends begin to sign leases and write vows with their significant others, I can’t help but think about my current condition: Single.
In an age where texting overrides phone calls and emojis depict feelings, it’s no wonder dating in 2015 is an absolute cluster f*ck. Interested suitors quickly become pen pals, emailing 20 questions before agreeing to meet for a 12 oz. cup of coffee.
So there it is, 16 years of my dating life funneled into 421 words.
Spark notes version: I am still single, I don’t own any cats, I am not willing to settle and most importantly I’d prefer not to emoji my emotions with anyone of interest over a 3-week texting conversation before we’ve even met.
By the way, this is only Volume One. I’m certain I’ll have many more stories worthy of filling an encyclopedia. Buckle up.