Why I'm Single (Installment 2)

Ok, so I realized last night sometime after I gave myself a cramp on the treadmill (running at a tough 0% incline) but before I almost finished a bottle of Nobilo (those New Zealand peeps really do know how to churn out a good bottle of sauvignon blanc), that the article upon which I’m basing my analysis (see, Installment 1) has almost 40 reasons why one might be single. I haven’t done that much self-analysis since... well... yesterday when I talked to Katie, Joel, Karen, Ginny, and Rebecca (turns out using fake names takes too much creativity) about why co-counsel will not have drinks with me. However, for the sake of saving you the agony of reading my take on all 40 reasons, and because I’m already over this little mini-series (um, maybe I should revisit Article Reason #2), we’re going to pretend like this is 11th grade AP English and I’m going to give y’all the book report version (i.e. I’m going to pick out the reasons I think are funny and talk about them in an authoritative sounding way).

Article Reason #11), My Reason #6) Because You are Obsessed with Your Pet:

Hmm, we may have hit a nerve with this one. But “obsessed” might be a little overkill.

I am not ashamed of the fact that I love Bijou as though she were my illegitimate love child with that hot male actor that ends up with Katherine Heigl in 27 Dresses (oh ok, or Zac Efron). And sure, I stay home from work when her poo doesn’t look right in the morning, refuse to board her when I go out of town, and let her sleep in the bed… on the side with access to the alarm clock… bunching up all the covers… with all the pillows, but I am not obsessed with her.

Now, if my mama were single, we most definitely could cite this as the reason. Her two pups, Bella and Bonny Button, may or may not have an entire wardrobe. Actually, wardrobe, really doesn’t give it justice; Bella and Bonny have an actual rack with hangers in addition to their Rubber Maid storage bin that can’t fit through a door frame. There are so many matching outfits and hair ribbons for the two of them that they do not have to repeat an outfit now through Obama’s inauguration. Of course there are special holiday edition outfits as well. Nary a 4th of July, Valentine’s Day, Veteran’s Day or Arbor Day goes by without Bella and Bonny sporting commemorative dress (the army fatigue is cute, but the yamakas are just silly; we aren't even Jewish).

As long as I have my mama as a compass, I will never steer in the direction of pet obsessed. See ya later Reason #11/6). Onward soldiers.

Article Reason #23), My Reason #7) Because You Work Till All Hours:

Since I am a lawyer, some of you will guess that this is the main reason why I’m single. And God love your hearts; this means you also think I’m a hard-working attorney and that my personality and looks have no bearing whatsoever on the dismal fact that I do not have a sparkly boulder on my left ring finger. Most likely, you are also my parents.

However, being the honest Abe that I am, I’m going to politely disagree. Let’s not got into the ugly details of this issue, because, well, I’d like to keep my mortgage/shoe/handbag/wine/gourmet food/vacation/US Weekly-buying job. But, HELLO - I HAVE A BLOG. How busy could I be? Clearly I have enough time to strut my stuff and let a man buy me dinner and booze a couple nights a week.

Article Reason #36, My Reason #8) Beacause You’re too Picky:

Here is another perfect example of why the article is completely non-applicable to me. No way I’m picky. I’m not a huge fan of my food touching (yes I’m the girl who dirties 15 plates at a buffet) but if my cheesecake accidently touches the big pile of chocolate mousse plopped on the other side of the plate, I’ll eat them both anyway, in addition to the trio of mini key lime tartlets they contaminated during their merge. And just last Friday, I ate a Bugle chip that had been sitting in spilled beer at the creepy Asian karaoke place in Doraville (no, I’m not proud of this moment but feel that it is a great example of me being the opposite of picky).

Nor am I picky about guys. Anyone who is privy to my string of ex-boyfriends knows that I operate on the principle that everyone deserves a shot. Everyone that is except the 298 e-harmony trolls I closed out, the 2 friends my neighbor tried to set me up with, and that guy at Starbucks who still carries a chain wallet (those things died with Kurt Cobain, buddy). I mean, a girl has to have some criteria or she’s just desperate - a clear violation of reason #1).

I feel like I’m leaving the door wide open. I want a good looking guy that is intelligent, funny (but not goofy funny), sweet (but not a door mat), polite, aggressive (except when it comes to giving me what I want), determined, social (but not loud or fake), spiritual (but not a righteous Bible-beater type), passionate (but not a horn ball), romantic (but not cheesy mushy), successful, generous, and not cheap. Oh and I would prefer that he didn’t wear short-sleeved button-downs, tapered jeans, cargo shorts, any type of sandals other than flip flops, excessive hair gel, or ridiculous man jewelry.

Picky schmicky.

Article Reason #38), My Reason #9) Because You’re a Homebody:

I could totally agree with this one if it weren’t for one little exception - I’m a closet homebody (not to be confused with homeboy, which is a different post entirely). There is nothing I like more than putting on my fat pants (i.e. the ridiculously large lounge gauchos I stole from an ex that make me feel what Meredith Gray must feel when she puts on a pair of scrubs made for a normal-sized person), opening a bottle of wine, ordering take out, and watching a Law & Order: SVU marathon (TNT has been picking some really good ones lately). And after a hard day of work, I will pretty much pre-sale my first born to anyone who is willing to walk Bijou so I can slide into said fat pants and flop onto the couch 10 minutes faster.

But here’s the thing, my tendency to be a homebody is kinda like the hole in the ozone; you have a strong feeling that it’s a fact and may even do things to prevent it from happening to a greater degree, but no one actually can prove it. I set foot outside my condo and socialize with the good people of Atlanta (and other states when i have enough Airtran points) just enough to keep people from knowing that I’m a total homebody. Sure my closest friends, old roommates, and the bakery clerks at Publix know this about me, but I like to think I’ve kept this tendency otherwise hidden.

Just last weekend I fought a summer associate for the remote to the karaoke machine and convinced multiple partners to partake in Irish Car Bomb races (yes, races, plural), before sneaking off and telling a cab driver that I would pay him $40 to drive me home and stop by the ATM on the way (a total of 2.3 miles). (Yes, Joel, I realize this is like paying a waiter $40 to bring an $8 burger all the way to your table.) Then, I went out the very next night to a cook-out for married people. My social life is alive and kicking, my friends. It is no more the reason why I am single than lack of fluoride in their water is why British people have wacky teeth (we all know that's genetic).

Article Reason #29), My Reason #10) Because You Blog About Everything:

Ouch.

However, this blog is a recent occurrence. It doesn’t explain why the previous 14 years, I have been the Washington Redskins of dating.

I'm beginning to think that being single is my destiny. Years after my death, people will simply refer to me as the Virgin Associate, or maybe the Virgin Blogger Chick that Liked Dessert. Hell, if it was good enough for Elizabeth I, it's good enough for me. (But hold the phone. I will never get that pale.)