So it’s coming to the six month mark of being single and I have to say-I am absolutely exhausted- and I do not make a very good single lady. When I was in my relationship, I was totally girlfriend of the year. I cooked, I cleaned, I loved, I was totally monogamous and enthralled with being in a relationship. Fast forward to single life-I drink a lot, I meet a lot of men with whom I…Yeah, we don’t have to go there quite yet-and my filter is seriously clogged.
I’ve come to find out a few choice things about myself in these 6 months of solitude including:
1. I’m never satisfied.
2. I’m less of a lady than a frat boy.
3. I may have a slight drinking problem.
4. I definitely miss being someone’s miss.
I’ll elaborate a little more on these four specifics. To address number one, I truly am NOT satisfied in the dating world. I’ve been on a countless number of dates with so many really nice men. We’ve gone out, had a wonderful time, and then..well..I just lose interest faster than a 5 year old girl with her Barbie on Christmas morning. These guys are SO nice. I mean, really. Sweet, good looking, the whole package. What’s my deal? What makes it even worse is that they feel such a strong connection between us and I feel…nothing. The closest guy I felt a connection with didn’t reciprocate, which was of course disappointing but inevitable since I’ve turned down every nice guy to come my way. The best and most intimate parts of my summer were spent with guys who I didn’t have the pleasure of dating, but rather just had the pleasure. And truuuuust me. I don’t regret a second of my fun little sleepovers. It’s nice to be able to have fun and snuggle all night and then throw that dress back on in the morning and be on my merry way to run weekend errands and sunbathe by myself with a nice glass of Jameson by the pool.
This brings me to points two and three. I’m in no way a daily drinker but Lord, when Friday comes and I punch out at 5:00 PM, all I can think about is..whiskey. And if you are my bartender on the weekends, I usually tell you to pour heavy at least once. I’m usually out and about in Boston every weekend, drinking way more than I probably should and dancing until the lights turn on. This passed weekend was like any other weekend except there was a large lapse in time (in which I was like the woman version of Hugh Hefner on the dance floor), I lost my debit card, and I woke up in my bed on Saturday morning desperately wondering how in the world I got there.
Ugh alas, you all must be like, “What’s her issue? Sounds like a good life to me.” But guys, underneath my frat boy, Hugh Hefner, downing-the-whiskey façade, I truly am a hopeless romantic. I would MUCH rather be cuddling ONE person, dancing with ONE person, and dating ONE person. I know I’m in my prime and I should really be having fun. But, it’s not what I want. I want more. I’m not desperately seeking love, I’m just seeking one person to spend my time with. I know I just have to be patient. Luckily, I’m not desperately seeking my next relationship. I am very happy being alone. As happy as someone who’s alone can be. Luckily, I’m not self destructive, either. As my friends put it to me on Saturday: “Lara, when we go out with you-it’s not like ‘Ugh, Lara’s drunk again.’ It’s more like, ‘YES! LARA IS DRUNK AGAIN.'” Now, don’t get it twisted. I still love my whiskey, and I will always love whiskey. I’d just enjoy it more drinking it with someone else.