If that headline didn’t get your attention, I don’t know what will.
As you may or may not know, I’ve been single for an excruciatingly long time. Three years as of August. And I have honestly be OK with that. I’ve been on this whole “getting to know myself” adventure. I’ve dated a few gentleman in that time but no keepers. I’ve been on dating sites, but no keepers, just creepers.
(Side note: It seems friends that I’ve had since grade school believe I moved to San Francisco to become a lesbian. As much as I support equality and free love, I still enjoy the penis. Sorry Niki if this disappoints you and your husband. I’m still pretty bitter about this conversation, obviously.)
My conclusion: My picker is broken.
Yes, my picker. That little voice inside of me that says, “Man, I really like this guy”. My picker is broken. It hones in on any unavailable, unreliable, unexciting man and makes me do stupid things.
Remember a few days ago, I was drinking “water” and wrote this incredibly silly post about some crush I was having. My picker is broken – point proven.
First, I work with him. I made a rule not to dip my pen in company ink (I think that’s the saying), ever again. Second, he’s a pup and acts like it too. Third, I spent an entire week helping him with a project and did not get so much as a thank you.
Picker = Dead to me
So, there is a new game plan.
Gentleman, come and get me. I’m single, fun, not horrible to look at, and only slightly crazy. I am not longer chasing love. Love can chase me.
And that doesn’t mean that I’m going to sit in my apartment waiting for prince charming to knock on my door; however, that would be incredibly convenient. I’m going to get out there and try looking available. I’m just not picking, someone needs to pick me for a change.
“But Lefty – you could be single forever?” Yep, I could. And I could be miserable with some guy with the emotion IQ of -571.
Alone and happy > Together and miserable
Those are my happy thoughts for the night. Sweet dreams interwebs.