It's Not You, It's Me

It is with bittersweet sentiment that I have to say that this post will be my swan song to DBNS.  I have really loved doing it, was shocked to discover that I could, and even more shocked to discover that anyone actually wanted to read it.  (I guess all that stuff they say about trying something that scares you really is true!)  But it is time for a new chapter in my singlehood.

The truth is, that while dating and being single certainly can be funny, it is not always a picnic.  On one of those rough nights, I was on the phone with a girlfriend who has been there in the trenches with me for most of my 30's.  I was going on and on about why was it so hard and don't people know how hard it is to go through this every week and why wasn't it ever changing?!  With much wisdom and sensitivity, she pointed out that I have been doing it the same way for quite a while.  Meaning, "dating like it my job" and collecting funny tales about it.  (This has been my M.O. long before it was posted online.)   She suggested that I stop the blog.  At first I was defensive, (I love DBNS! People love DBNS!) but then I really heard her.  I have painted myself in to a corner.  I am funny dating story girl!  People expect the stories from me, and I deliver.  I manifested it so much that I made it real and gave it a name- Desperate But Not Serious.  But you know what?  I don't want to be desperate anymore, and I don't want my romantic life to be a joke.  She said it best when she texted me the next day "I want your love life to be amazing, not anecdotal!"  Ah, girlfriends- the shrinks you don't have to pay.  (And of course, I should have already learned this lesson from my TV girlfriends.)

So, I am going to reinvent my single self.  Instead of a blogging, online-dating Bridget Jones, I would like to become an alluring, captivating man-magnet, loose on the streets of my new city.  I don't want dating to be a joke or a job- just a pleasure.  I am going to stop running my love life by committee and on my computer, and start behaving like an adult instead of a 16-year old.  And in this age of Facebook and Match and Twitter, I would like to embrace an old-fashioned concept: mystery.  I would like to date people who don't already know everything about me before we've met.  I want to be present with men, instead of collecting nuggets for everyone I know.  I want to relax and let it happen, and open myself up to the man that will be worth the wait.  This will all take some deprogramming, and who knows if I can do it.  But didn't Einstein say the definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?  It's time for a new approach.

(Cheers and farewell- thanks SO MUCH for all of your support!  I will leave the blog up for the archives, and so I have somewhere to announce my future engagement.  xo! Jane)

Just Bad

My second date with Woods was last week, and I haven't written about it because I just feel bad.  We had a nice dinner, but there was simply no spark.  He is a sweetheart of a guy, ripe for the picking, but I just can't talk myself into it.  When we came out of the restaurant, we discovered his car had been towed.  (I know!  More feeling bad.)  When I was in my cab on the way home, and he was in his on the way to the tow lot, (btw, wouldn't I have gone with him if I liked him?) he texted to say he had a great night and, "I like you, Jane."  Oh dear.  I didn't respond!  He called me after he got his car, and I picked up to confirm that all was well.  And then he IM'd me later.  Again, I didn't respond.  I know!  I am terrible, he is lovely, and deserves someone who is dying to make out with him.  He asked me out via email on Sunday and I am just now going to reply and say that I have been MIA b/c there's an ex back on the scene.  Guess what, I know.  I just don't want to touch the word chemistry with a ten-foot pole, and my own ego prefers when it's about some mysterious third party instead of me...  But even though I am non-responsive liar, I would like to make it clear to The Universe that this one really is a great guy and he deserves a new love interest ASAP.

If you are not single, and find yourself in yoga pants on the couch in front of The Biggest Loser with one ear on the baby monitor, wishing for nights of cocktails and high heels and exciting chemistry with dashing men, please know that you are really not missing a thing.  This is the reality, and sometimes it is distinctly un-fun.  The only thing worse than being rejected is doing it yourself.