the shameful tales of a happy singleton

Of all my dating years, last year was the most … up and down. Plenty of dates, lots of boys, and even some men, but not one of them stuck. It was a year of flings, where at the end, it was me that felt flung.

Unfortunately, of all the dates I went on, several ended up being married. Don’t worry, the date ended the minute I was told about their relationship status(es) but it gave me little hope of finding something real in my desert home.

You see, my new home is very transient. People come and go and very few people consider this a permanent place to lay their head. Not saying that I do, but it’s hard to bank on someone or something that is likely fleeting.

2014 though brought me some great stories. My guy average went from the usual 4.5 to upwards of 8’s and 9’s. Apparently that haircut I got mid-year did something to my mojo, because it was working last year!

The really sad part about all these temporary situations is that even when you think that a guy might be worthy of more than a third date, the fling fizzles and poof, they’re gone, or you’re gone, regardless, it is gone.

Last year I experienced (for the second time) the dicey game of having two dates in one evening, followed by a short-lived romance with a beautiful Parisian gentleman who worked for Chanel – this is my second run-in with a Chanel employee, suggesting that I might get that bag yet! Then there was the American gentleman who actually stood me up for date number 2. For the first time in my dating life, I was blatantly stood up! I honestly thought that shit only happened in movies, but I shook it off like a champ.

Next came possibly the two best looking men I’ve ever been with. The first a high ranking executive at a fairly prominent company, the second an American diplomat. While neither was/is serious (the executive and I still spend time together), they are the only ones worth even mentioning, though the details seem so insignificant at this point, I won’t bother.