I’ve recently had the pleasure of pursuit of several wonderful young men who have eschewed all logic and decided that maybe they would like to get to know me better.  On an intimate level.  Learn my hopes and dreams and maybe see my boobs.  Basically, I’ve been asked out on some dates.  Yes – me.  Despite my first reaction, which is “if they want to date me, they must be insane, say no,” I’ve allowed my ego and lust to get the better of me and I’ve said yes.  Things go well for about 2.5 seconds and then…

Clusterfuck.

I think I’ve pinpointed some reasons for why my dating life lasts about 2 dinners and a makeout session then ends abruptly.  Here’s my genius interpretation:

My first problem is that I don’t have time for anything.  I work pretty much all the time.  I spend 40 hrs a week schilling sporting goods in the city, bartend, and get paid to recap TV shows (so that’s an hour to watch the episode and an hour to write the recap).  On my days off, I trek home to Allentown to see my family (who, incidentally, will always come first), do laundry, run… basically, I get all the shit done that my normal work day doesn’t allow me to do.  I’m always down to hang out, but not necessarily at the expense of getting shit done. 

This leads to my next issue, which has something to do with my priorities.  I’ve always said that if you want to do something badly enough, you make time.  I guess I don’t want to date because I’m not making the time, but my friends, family, and work are coming first right now.  With this impending move to Colorado in August, I’m even more attuned to the fact that Philly will no longer be my home.  I mean, until last night, I hadn’t seen my friend Jackie in almost a year and she lives 45 goddamn minutes away.  So once I’m nestled in the mountains across the country, I’m pretty much never going to see her.  Making up for lost time in these 5 months is more important than sharing awkward silence and playing kissyface with someone who might decide that my lack of a filter is unattractive after 4 dates. 

So does the failure to make time and re-prioritize the position of my romantic life signal to some underlying self-destructive desire to be single?  Yeah, I don’t know about that so much.  I think I’ve been single for so long that it’s comfortable.  I have a routine that doesn’t revolve around anyone else’s satisfaction other than my own.  I’ve become selfish in this time, but it’s served to provide success to some extent.  I finally got into grad school, am fit and running, have amazing friends and a bangin’ social life.  Maybe I’m also not ready to share this with someone else because it’s something that’s ultimately mine.

Alright, I’m getting harassed by my family to rejoin in the Easter festivities.  Yeah, it’s Easter, what better day to be concerned about my sex life.  In the meantime, I think I’m going to stick to what I know best, and that’s me.  And if Mr. Baseball, Bboy, and Band-aid can’t deal with that, then it’s not meant to be.  And I’m also going to Jack Daniels the Carrie Bradshaw out of me.  Ugh.

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