Dont Mince Words

In LA, there’s a category of women I call “the meal hunters.” They date to eat. While a girl’s gotta eat, I’d rather stay home with unshaved legs and pop open a can of tunafish. I date to meet.

Last night I had a first date with a man who suggested we go to dinner. We ordered a beer, then I ordered an appetizer as my meal. The conversation flowed and in the middle of it all he said, “Wow, you really aren’t a hooker. You hardly eat.”

Most women would of been offended to be thought of as a meal-hunting hooker. I’m in touch with my inner whore and that comment didn’t bother me. I was flattered that he noticed my outstanding portion control talent. To celebrate, I ordered a second double barrel ale. Does that make me a beer whore?

When real guy started behaving like typical guy, I knew it was time to evaluate what I wanted against what we could accomplish together. When he said, “I’m not really a relationship guy,” I knew it was time to utter my favorite four-lettered word.

NEXT.

I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day until one of our programmers stated he couldn’t work in the evening because of love commitments. He asked me what I was going to do and I said, without hesitating, “I’m going to the gym to hang out with the fat, single people.”

The road to good intentions was almost paved with bruises when I got into a fight with some bimbolina over the last treadmill. It wasn’t the last treadmill, but the only one available overlooking the rock climbing wall which is the best eye candy location in the gym. I got it and she went to the other side of the floor.

For 60 minutes, I watched yummy men chalk their hands and scale the walls. This was much better than staring at couples waiting for their reservations at a restaurant.

I think I’ll come here next year. My long-term relationship with the gym seems to be working for me.

Growing up, I had this thing about being different… to the point where my parents said, “why can’t you be like everyone else?” This continues in my adult life.

The New York Times analyzed recent census data and discovered more American women are living without a husband than with one. That’s right. As my sweet single sisters and I continue to date the globe, there are only 49 percent of us that have actually married a guy.

While I’ve enjoyed being single and letting my “happily” married friends live vicariously through me, I’m ready to make the switch. Now that being single is popular, I want to go to the 49 percent side.

Being married means never having to date again. I’m ready for dating retirement and I’m ready to be a minority. I don’t want to be like everyone else.