I’m a great catch. Oh, and I’m available.

So I recently accepted a new job in a new city. It’s a very exciting adventure that I’m about to embark on and it is going to be a serious life change. Upon hearing this news this was one of the responses I received: “Oh! I bet they will know someone your age that they could introduce you to!”. Because HOT DAMN! if dating is not PRIORITY NUMBER ONE. Forget that I am moving across the country and rearranging my entire life. ARE. THERE. ANY. AVAILABLE. MEN?

Do you remember the scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding- the one where the dad and aunt and uncle are all sitting in the restaurant discussing sending Toula (the “old” single daughter) back to Greece to find a husband and the dad says “it’s like she don’t want to get to married!” and the aunt and uncle gasp in horror? I FEEL LIKE THIS IS MY LIFE.

Yes, I’m single.

Like, single single.

Like, hasn’t been on a date in ten months single.

And yet. And yet. I still manage to get out of bed every day. But I assure you, it’s only because I hold onto the hope that today will be the day. The day that I meet that special someone. You know, that someone who will end the constant heartache that singleness brings and give purpose back to my otherwise futile life. Because really, how else could I survive? Clearly something is missing from my life. As clear as if I were missing a limb or a vital facial feature, like. . .EYES. That clear. Because I swear sometimes when people look at me they cock their head to the side, as isn’t entirely uncommon when you see a three-legged dog and think “Hmm, what’s wrong with it?”, until it hits them. The thing that’s wrong with me. Then they straighten up, the color returns back to their face, and they get that twinkle in their eye- because surely they know someone who would date me.

Sure, it would probably help if I didn’t have so many weekend Needlepoint and Crochet conventions at home with my 12 cats, and was out frequenting the Young Singles events at all the local churches- but really, my doily collection is BOSS. Also, my cats suffer from separation anxiety.

ALL THAT TO SAY. Hi, my name is Sarah. I’m single and I’m complete. I am not on an eternal quest for my other half. I do not spend every waking moment contemplating finding the completer of my soul, nor do I wish for other people to spend any of their waking moments doing so. Singleness is not a disease, disorder, virus, or infection that is painful and in need of a cure. I am able to happily spend time with couples. Happy couples even! And I. Don’t. Hate. Babies.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go drink some laxative tea and brush my leg hair.

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