The Severely Single Syndrome

One of the best parts about having girlfriends (right after borrowing their clothes)...would have to be listening to the dramatics of their love life. AH! Such entertainment and comedic relief all wrapped into one! Now let me get something clear. Because I am the first person to admit to such shenanigans, I am by no means mocking anyone. If I was planning a wedding, or getting someone's name tattooed on my ass...that would be completely different.

It was recently drawn to my attention that the dating complaints have escalated to an entirely different level. So much, that this predicament has actually become label-worthy.

I call it the SSS. The Severely Single Syndrome.

This is the kind of single where not only do you have no dates planned ANYWHERE on your calendar, you have depleted all your subpar hook-up options, and the one guy you never thought you would call on a Friday night...well, now you are actually considering it. 

When one reaches this point, you have two options. Listen carefully.

First Option. 

As your self-pity escalates, and your consumption of vodka-tonics does as well...you decide to contact that estranged douche bag on a Friday night, and have an uneventful text convo that goes something like this--

You: Whats up?

Last Resort: sup baby. what upppp

You: I just asked you that.

Last Resort: lol getting drunk with the boyzz u

You: With my girlfriends. We don't know yet.

Last Resort: Might head to Wrigleyville. My boy Matt's bartending tonight. should b wild. 

WARNING: if any conversation goes in this direction, you are by all means held responsible for taking the SSS to an entirely different level. It's one thing to be guilty of making that shameful text, but to actually plan on meeting up this is loserrrrrrr is unacceptable. Wrigleyville? Really? Not only do I NOT feel sorry for you, I hope the next guy you go on a date with, takes you to some grungy deli and decides on going dutch. If you keep it up, that's the guy who is gonna end up marrying you. 

Second Option. 

Rid yourself of all self-pity that is humanly possible, despite the fact that you do actually have reason to complain. (I know...self-pity can be so much fun). Go out with your girlfriends and keep your phone on silent. Nobody is calling you anyway--lets just be honest. Have a few drinks, and once that tiny voice in your head tells you "this night is so effing lame"--cab it home.

YES this sounds super anti-climactic....but guess what? Your life kinda is (at least for the time being). Plus at least you can wake up with one thing that never goes out of style. Dignity. How many more lessons can one learn that nothing good happens after 2 am? Plus with a decent amount of sleep under your belt....you can actually make it to that 10am workout class Saturday morning. And believe me, HOT may go out on Friday nights....but even HOTTER works out on a Saturday morning. 

So yes, like any other crap situation we are forced to deal with....there are always options in the way in which we deal with them. Im a very impatient person, so it would seem obvious for someone like me to go down the route of Option 1-- but I've actually been surprised by doing the very opposite.

I'd much rather just go home, watch tv with my dog, and dream about how delicious my bagel and lox sandwich from Steve's Deli will be in the a.m. xx

"searching for a boy in high school is as useless as searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie"