Being Single Stinks

I was single for a long time, which probably comes as a surprise to those who didn't know me pre-domesticity. I think I might have dated most of the (crazy) New York City guys and half of the Hoboken male population. I won't go into the traumatizing stories (strippers, naked bathroom guy, the American Girl Place pianist) and the crushing disappointments when I realized that Mr. Perfect Investment Banker was actually Mr. Bipolar Disorder with Control Issues.

Needless to say, I hated dating. I hated being single. I hated flirting (despite becoming a master), and the small talk and the uncomfortable silences and (what felt like) endless, unsatisfying first (and last) kisses.

And people always ask, "But you are in a relationship now; can't you look back and go, 'oh that was actually fun'?"

They say, "Wasn't it all worth it? All the stories? All the bad dates?"

I need to let everyone know that, yes, of course it was all worth it. But for all the funny stories and fantastic fodder it has given me, I wouldn't want to re-do it. Nope - not even knowing the outcome, not even having the hindsight that I would meet my love, would I want to go through it again.

That said, dating is a necessary evil. It needs to be done. And as one very wise friend, SB, has said, "Every asshole you date, every guy that breaks your heart (or you break his!), brings you one step closer to the one you are going to end up with."

So for all my single ladies - grab a wing woman, take a vodka shot, and put yourself out there.