The Single

There must be a post that every single female over the age of an age I hate to name makes when they decide to blog. It’s probably the single blog that made them want to blog in the first place when the idea pranced along their gray matter from lobe to lobe and lodged itself until they had to spew it on the Internet. The single post.

Yes us single girls can be wishy washy, torn between loving having no one to hold us accountable and devote ourselves to and allowing our selfishness to flourish, and the crushingweight of  loneliness making us so stereotypically eat those tubs of ice cream and lament how truly stereotypical we are. We are unique and special. All of us. So similarly same and special. Hah. And some of us? We are single in a sea of serial monotony…. Oops, monogamy.

And the suburbs are death. When entering the city limits of anywhere that could be considered such, warning signs should litter the streets like blown up billboards: Single girls beware!! Enter at your own risk to your dating life!! Here be no men for the likes of you! Dating death ahead!

Well. I live in the burbs. The bubble. I came here with purpose and life and fervor. Oh whoops where’d it go!? Oh yeah. Dim and dull me down until I’m an incandescent bulb with a shortened half life about to expire. So how do I maintain the ever so common absurdly high and unreachable expectations that I apply on my dating potentials? By sheer grit and willpower, I tell you! Just because I have succumb to the suburban dating death plague doesn’t mean the men have… Right? So ever hopeful.

All those who wander are not lost… Unless you wander into the suburbs hoping for a date or a future without one securely on your ring finger.

I love my friends. My monogamous serious may as well be married friends. My actually married friends. The ones with kids or babies on the way. One day I hope to be one of those women that instigates my friends creation of a single girls blog lamenting her singleness. Until then my soul is being crushed. We all secretly had those hopes that we would bounce happily along in our lives at a similar pace with our friends… Solving marriage and family and all those pretty little puzzles together.

Well we aren’t. I’m not. So in these suburbs here I lie. Once vibrant person of the world. Social being with self and the ability to partake and be part of the world. She is no more.

Instead, here I am. Sexless in the suburbs.

I think the rabbits procreating in my yard are mocking me.


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