Are You Serious? Or Are You NUTS?

Three. Count them: Three. I have been told by three different people that they will set me up with someone they know. And we’re just halfway done with February, people!

What? Is being single when you’re 29 so bad?

By the third time that I was asked to go on a blind date, I spent a good proper one hour in front of the mirror, convinced that I probably had “Desperate single!” carved on my forehead and I just couldn’t see it. And so I tried to search for it only to realize that s**t, I need to have a facial soon. My face is breaking out.

If you’re wondering what happened to those attempted three blind dates, my answer to that would be this: Those three people who asked me? They’re still alive. But barely.

frown
Don't you even dare ask...

When asking me to go on a blind date with your friend, please take note that I do not feel flattered. I know you have good intentions (such as seeing me all happy and finally in love again) and I thank you for that. But this blind date attempts? It really doesn’t leave me with a warm, fluttery feeling. See paragraph number three, about the mirror.

image source: Fabiana Zonca

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An Ambiguous Valentine’s Day Post

Ahh… February. The so-called Month of Love. Now people who are in love have an excuse to be cheesy/tacky and then get away with it while coming off as “sweet” and “thoughtful.”

Love is in the air...
Love is in the air...

February 14th. Valentine’s Day. A string of hearts. Serenading. Flowers! Chocolates! Dinner by candlelight! (Please don’t let me get started on how I suspect the motels here will be fully booked during that day and the days near the 14th.)

Everyone is in love. Or at least, that’s what Valentine’s Day makes you believe. And what about me? To quote from a Bright Eyes song, “Another year I claim to total indifference.” Although I have never had a boyfriend during this day, there was one guy I have dated who made it to Valentine’s Day but we never went out for some screwed reason I can no longer remember. The feeling I have right now is that the reason is screwed, ergo not valid. But I know I didn’t care, since I never was an advocate for Valentine’s Day. (My dad never fails to tell us during this time of the year that this occasion was made so that entrepreneurs could make tons of money and it did not go deeper than that. Oh, Pops, you are such a cold, cold man of reason and logic but I still love you. Please don’t forget to drive me to work tomorrow. Thanks! Much love! Mwah mwah!)

So. Back to Valentine’s Day… Which leads me to saying this: What’s a single girl verging on her thirties to do? I have options:

  1. Finally give in and go out on a date.
  2. Be in hibernate mode for that weekend and stack up on junk food, iced tea and DVDs.
  3. Sleep the weekend away.
  4. Go out with friends who are free that day and just be awesome!

My answer? I think I’m going with number two. Except. Except that I plan to start on focusing on bringing back whatever creativity I have left in my system.

Creativity, come out come out, wherever you are!
Creativity, come out come out, wherever you are!

It has been so long (way too long) since I last wrote something decent or made a collage or did something with Photoshop. I’ve been so caught up in the whirlwind of work during the weekdays and socializing during the weekends that I’ve tuned out what’s inside me. And it was an unexpected trip to a bookstore yesterday that made me vow to myself what I just stated above. I will dig my toes back into the creative sands and whip up something, even if it means soaking my brains and then hanging them out to dry afterwards.

image sources: Valentine’s Day and Creativity

For You to Notice

Charming Frog
I would totally kiss you, Frog, if you promise to magically turn into Prince Charming right away.

This is the blog of a single woman in her late twenties. “Single” being the keyword here. So where are the blog posts about dating and romance? About the adventures I’ve found while on the path of finding Mr. Right?

Reader, you are not going to find them here. Sorry but you have to know: I am sadly lacking in the romance department. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I go on dates once or twice per year. And that’s already pushing the envelope.

Sometimes, I hibernate and not go out on any dates for a whole year. My record for that is three years. Yes, three. Your eyes have not deceived you. I was date-free for three years.

My family and friends are worried about me. I can’t blame them. Society pretty much imposes that a woman my age should already be thinking of settling down, if not already married and have procreated or starting to procreate. Ah, the wonderful cycle of life.

BUT. But I don’t want to date someone for the sake of conforming to society or simply because of the pressure. I can’t very well date just because, right?

You could say I’m a fatalist. I just wing it every. single. day. And you know what’s crazy or funny about that? I’m actually content and happy. Being a single woman at 29 doesn’t mean the end of the world, no matter what people say and how they make me feel about it.

Asides: But hoo boy! You should see the guys I crush on. Total hotties. Each and every one of them. Too bad I just look at them longingly from the sidelines. Ha! Which brings to mind a Dashboard Confessional song (“For You to Notice“)┬áthat is way too appropriate for my crushes:

I’m starting to fashion an idea in my head
where I would impress you
with every single word I said.
Would come out insightful or brave or smooth or charming
and you’d want to call me
And I would be there every time
you’d need me
I’d be there every time…
But for now I’ll look so longingly
waiting…
For you to want me, for you to need me, for you to notice me

image source: Fabulous Femininity

Something I Can’t Name Yet

Something is wrong with me.

This guy I was interested in about 2 weeks ago had asked for my mobile number. So we got into sending each other a series of text messages over the weekend. He asked me out and he made it clear that he too was interested.

And then.

And then suddenly I lost any interest I had when I first saw him. I came up with reasons why and I just felt like we are two really different people. He seems like a nice guy. We share the same set of friends. And as my girlfriends would point out, “He has a car.” And that is my cue to look at them, blink and then say, “So what?” SO WHAT?

I wish I could be the kind of girl who falls in love easily just because the guy is nice and sweet. But I don’t. Some girls are swept away with big, romantic gestures. Some girls blush and giggle over flattering comments from guys they like. Then there’s little old me who has a lot of guy friends but rarely fell in love. Because guess what? Apparently, as my friends would like to point out to me: I have too high a standard when it comes to men.

What?! When asked what I like in men, I answer the following:

1. Someone smart, someone who could carry a good, interesting, funny conversation. Brain exercise!
2. Someone well-versed in the english language and can carry a good conversation with anyone, whether it’s with my friends, my parents, his boss, his superiors. You know, someone quietly confident.
3. Someone who has dreams and goals and aspirations. Someone with a DIRECTION in life and takes steps to pursue that.

What, why no mention of money? Of a well-off guy? Because it’s not what my focus is in my rules of attraction. As long as the guy strives hard to keep his job and is motivated to push forward to attain his goals and dreams in life, then that’s all I want.

Attraction, relationships, romance. Such weird, weird things. WEIRD.

Or am I just the one not reacting very normally about those? :/

I Lost Track of Time

It seemed only pretty recently that my life consisted of work, of parties (they aren’t the fancy ones; just at homes of friends, usually) and generally just having fun.

And then 2011 stepped in, all sly and yet assuming. It even had the gall to make my friends want to settle down, if not get their serious relationships even more serious with plans of geting married. When I’m around my friends, oddly enough, I feel like I’m their chaperone. Even though I’m the one attending parties in solo flight, going to bars on occasions with “single” stamped on my forehead, I feel like I ought to be the one whipping out a fantastic crochet and shushing everyone to be quiet and be well-behaved. While stroking the cat on my lap.

In a circle wherein my friends are getting serious left and right, I feel like I was accidentally placed in the wrong place and time. I feel like I’m someone’s sixth toe. You know, that one creature everyone can’t help but stare at.

I had my parents worried. (“Had” because they have reached the point of acceptance now). I have my siblings worried (present tense used because apparently, they are still convinced and hoping that I will eventually find a man I will marry). I’M not worried. I know better than to get involved in a relationship just because I NEED someone. I can very much stand on my own, thank you. One of my brothers complained that I was too emotionally independent for my own good. I think I’ll take that as a compliment.

In the meantime, while I’m single and not looking and leaving things up to Fate (and watching “True Blood” and eating junk food and gulping down coffee during the weekends), the world can tune in to other things and not hold its breath. Because I doubt I’ll fall in love soon and easily. But yes, I do make a great friend with boys and their girlfriends and wives don’t even have to worry because I am the epitome of loyalty, fidelity and trust. Amen.