Never Have I Ever: My Life (So Far) Without a Date

Falling in love is totally unimaginable to me. I think maybe the best things often are.

You always forget that it's impossible to grieve every minute of the day. You always forget that a mourning period can include laughter, but just because it's there it won't mean that you're really okay.

My darling, patient friends tell me that I'm still single only because I'm picky, and because I haven't met the right person yet. This would feel truer if I hadn't been shut down by quite so many wrong people that I, despite my allegedly high standards, chased after.

Why would I want to go out to dinner and a movie with someone I'm not completely crazy about... getting someone else involved means I have to put on a nicer outfit and stress out about the way I look chewing my food. If I'm going to have to consider my chewing face, I only want to do it for someone I think I might be able to really like.

Something that is very hard to learn and accept about real life is that a lot of people, a surprising number of people, don't really care about anyone but themselves. They pretend to care, and they can go through the motions a little bit for a little while, but when real and sad things happen that last longer than a few days, they lose interest fast. It is best to not have these people be your best friends, because they are terrible. Unfortunately, they are everywhere, and, to make things worse, they sometimes procreate.

In fact, I think that’s probably what the Bermuda Triangle is up to. It doesn’t mean to do any harm, and it’s actually pretty nice once you get to know it. It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens.

All I give are fucks. And it seems to me that it might be nice, on occasion, to get rid of some of them.

Guys who would make fun of girls for sexual inexperience are terrible people, and when girls do it to other girls it feels even shittier. Guys who shame girls who haven't had sex want them to feel like they aren't doing their job, which is to be sexually available and attractive to guys. (And never mind if they are gay, or just uninterested.) Girls who shame other girls for these reasons are helping those guys. They are saying this: You are not accomplished where it matters, and I am better than you. I have proven that men find me attractive, and that is what counts. These people, boys and girls and men and women alike, are all dickheads.

I'm not trying to be self-righteous about that, but I am literally the best friend a person could ask for and I am a good listener and anybody who doesn't want to be my friend should take a long, hard look at him/herself and whisper, "What is wrong with me? Why was I born without the capacity to love?

This is what I have held against boyfriends all my life: that they are the people who steal your best friends away from you piece by piece, and when they give them back (if they ever do), it is only when they have made your best friends sadder and more heartbroken than when they were first taken. Because that's what it looks like, from here. It had to be his fault, because how could someone who is my best friend ever really choose to see me less and less until we see each other almost not at all? This is what I believed: Best friends, if only by virtue of you calling them your "best friend," just don't do that. But they do.

Sex is not a wizard, whatever magical-seeming properties it might possess in its better forms. If your friend says to you, "You're being mean, you need to get laid," your problem is not sex. Your problems are that you might be acting like an asshole, and your friends are definitely idiots.

I was trying to seduce him just by being physically near him. Like, seduction by osmosis. It works in movies constantly.

When I'd see him I'd look at him, then look away, then look at him again. I never got closer than twenty feet, which is about how far out my anti-flirtation force field has extended since the beginning of my life.

I'm going to stay a little uptight and anxious.

There isn’t anything about me that is analogous to the Bermuda Triangle’s “rogue wave” phenomenon (at least I hope there isn’t). I don’t capsize sailors, much less entire ships. I keep myself to myself, you know? In fact, I think that’s probably what the Bermuda Triangle is up to. It doesn’t mean to do any harm, and it’s actually pretty nice once you get to know it. It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens. It hasn’t had much chance to practice, and it’s used to things going a certain way. So if a sailor DOES come around, it gets a little nervous, freaks the fuck out, and creates hurricane-like devastation in every direction around it. And then it gets embarrassed and sad and calls its friends.

Everybody who works in a coffee shop is at least a little bit hot.

We talked just enough for me to know that I was basically in love, but not enough for me to know any real information about him, except for the fact that he had incredible cheekbones—which is really all I needed to know anyway, right? A good set of cheekbones can take care of me, encourage me, make me laugh, raise my children.

I keep myself to myself.

I have always chosen my friends from a silent distance, picking them out after a short observation period and only then attempting to get to know them.

If you only ever like people you don't know and who don't know you, the ball is perpetually in their court. Only they don't realize that you think they're playing basketball with you. They are not actually at the court. You think you're there. But really you're not there, either.

I mean, I always want everyone to kiss me, but I also don't want anyone to ever even think about trying any funny business because I swear to God I will yell and run. It's sort of hard to explain.

If there were one sentence that explained everything you feel right now, what would it be?” I thought about it for a second. “I fucking hope that everyone dies.

Girls are nothing to be afraid of, no matter the kind. Boys, on the other hand.

There are the boys for whom the ink of a million glittery gel pens was spilled.

What’s that you say? Coffee creates as many problems as it “fixes”? You just SHUT THE HELL UP.

I am obviously not a patient person.

There must come a time, after you've been online dating for months or even years, when you feel your spirit leaving your body. You'll stay online, but you won't even know why. You'll still sign in and look at people's profiles, just to pass the time, but you won't think of them as humans any longer. They might look like people, but then so do you, and you know that all you are anymore is a shell. You'll start flailing.

There were a couple of times when I hung out with a boy I liked and he paid for me and we were both single so I think those were dates, but then like a week later he had a girlfriend that wasn't me and I was cursing his very existence, so it's hard to say for sure.

It was because she was drinking a lot, choosing to do these things to be happy but never seeming all that happy the next day, or the one after that.

Advice and support are hard things to give. It can be particularly difficult thing to do when you know (or not "know," but strongly believe with good reason) your good friend's relationship is going nowhere, but she continues to believe she and her boyfriend are soul mates anyway, even though she cries at least three times a week about something he's done.