A single past (part 2 of 4).


I can’t listen to Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me” album without thinking of Tommy.  He was short-lived but also at the height of my hormonal stints.   Most of what I remember about Tommy came from before we even dated.

Tommy, for me, was the anticipation of dating.  It was the flirting, the day dreaming, and the excessive contemplation of everything he said over uncooked cookie dough with my friends.  When I started crushing on Tommy, I had recently moved my bed near the window of my room, I’d stare outside and listen to “Don’t Know Why” and “Come Away with Me” over and over again on my disc-man.  I’d wish I had some instant way to send him a message right at that moment (text messaging wasn’t big yet) that didn’t require me to log on to the family computer.

The worst thing about this relationship is that I don’t remember how it started.  I can’t figure out who asked who out, where we went for our first date, or how I felt afterwards.  I’m guessing this is the beginning of my aging process and my memory is, apparently, going first.  I’m going to assume that I was asked out over AIM.  That was the norm at the time and I’m sure I wasn’t any different.

The few moments that Tommy and I did date are still precious to me.  They’re also straight out of a 7th Heaven episode (but with less making out on the couch).  Tommy would take me to the movie theatre, we’d share some popcorn, and I’d put my hand on the armrest, hoping that he’d get the hint and take my hand, because holding hands was the most important thing for us.

But, like I said, it was short-lived.  It was a “Summer Lovin’” scenario and it “happened so fast.”

Still, I can’t look back at these relationships and not stop on Tommy.  He represents the innocence of relationships – a time where holding hands was enough – and it’s sometimes a trait that I miss when I’m dating now.

I broke up with Tommy on the phone.

For no justified reason, I just broke up with him.  He was the beginning of the boys I would break up with just because I didn’t feel like playing anymore – I used to have a three-month relationship tolerance…actually I still do.

A single Lame-o.


Listen, sometimes, and this may come as a shock to you, seeing as most of my posts suggest otherwise, I don’t drink.

And sometimes, just hold on to your hats folks, I work on my writing.

I stay at home, sit on the couch in the most unattractive sweat-suit I can muster up, and I write for hours – my only interruption coming from a cat needing attention or that episode of Once Upon A Time that I just can’t miss.

I honestly don’t go out as much as you might think.  I mean, I am trying to save for NYC and I’m a natural home-body.  I like to pay homage to my introverted self.

However, Trevor (of A Single Alpaca fame) got the wrong impression the other night.  He caught me on a night where I decided to go out. I got a drink and then five and BOOM I was giving him my number and hanging out making out with him.  Which I still regret to this day. So now, every time he goes out, he texts me and expects to be able to meet up with me because he assumes I’m at another bar.

For a while I played along.  So when he texted me asking me where I was I’d say, “Getting ready to go out,” or “My friends bailed tonight :(“ because I didn’t want him to know the truth.  But, around the fourth night he texted me in a row, I was done.

I was done for two reasons:

  1. It was annoying.
  2. Every time I saw him and he was sober, he wouldn’t give me the time of day (and I was simply asking him “how his day was” or “what slice he wanted from the case” because I only saw him when I was working at the Pizza Place.

So the other night he texted me and asked:

“Sup?”  Seriously, the man is a genius with words.

“Writing.” I replied.

“Sounds lame.”

“Are you at the Box?” I asked.


“Sounds lame.” I responded.

I’m not asking Trevor to date me.  Hell, I’m never going to ask that of him.  I’m not even asking him to be my friend. I’m not even the one that initiates these texts! I’m just asking that this guy, who deign to text me when he is drunk and make out with me after three shots too many, will show me the slightest amount of respect when it comes to my life.  And my life is writing.  Which he would know if he paid attention to me when we spoke the firs time we sat next to each other at the Box.

I’m a writer.  That comes first.  I don’t point out that his constant drinking is lame.  He shouldn’t point out that my writing is lame.

Get over your lame self.

A single apartment.


I’m moving to the place where single girls are made and often die alone in their apartments to be eaten by their cats: New York City.

And while I’m confident that I won’t die alone, only because, if I ever find an apartment, I’ll need a roommate since I’m a poor, struggling writer/waitress/lover of Ramen; I’m not confident that I’ll actually find an apartment.  I am confident, however, that I will probably end up living in a really nice cardboard box at this rate.

What I’m finding is that looking for an apartment in NYC is a lot like trying to find a decent individual on OkCupid.  Which, lucky for me, is what I’m particularly seasoned at trying to do.

I don’t know if it’s simply just a free-site thing or and online thing but, either way, people lie.  On OkCupid people lie all the time about their jobs, hobbies, favorite books (or that they read books in general), or even what they look like (By the way: Catfish is real.  It is so real. So, you’ve lost a lot of hair? Just own it don’t post a fake picture that makes you look like Fabio). I’ve found pictures of the same apartment for listings in Brooklyn, Queens, and the Upper West Side, and I’m pretty certain that’s just not possible.  Why must we lie about apartment locations? I mean, I’m desperate enough to live just about anywhere, and anyone else on Craigslist is probably in the same boat, let’s just be truthful.

Then there are the overeager sellers.  I contacted an owner about their apartment but when I found out they had posted the same listing over and over in multiple locations (seriously, what is that?) I decided that this probably wasn’t the best fit.  So I contacted the person again and said I wasn’t interested in the apartment because something else had come up.  That should have been it, right?



The guy has texted me three more times asking me if I have changed my mind.  No, I haven’t changed my mine, Crazy.  I mean, come on, I’d text you if I changed my mind about your sketchy apartment.  This actually reminded me of that guy from OkCupid who texted me non-stop after I fell asleep.  It was sheer desperation.  But, I can’t be the only person who was looking at that apartment.  Still, desperation is as desperation does.

So, like I said, there is a lot of common ground found between OkCupid Manor and Craigslist Castle.  And luckily I have my Single Girl Wits about me to guide me through these homeless times.  I hope that I won’t be single and homeless long.

I’d much rather be single and living in NYC.

Romantic Jesus, please help me find an apartment.

A single attempt.


I’m a sucker for a well-quaffed, vested boy.

Especially if he’s straight.  That one really gets me (I’ll still love the gay man in a vest but I can only do so much with him besides look).

Add in a tie and we’re talking the highest possible swoon-age physically possible.

Why do you need to know these facts?

Because I recently swooned, hard, for a guy in a vest with well-quaffed hair.

 And not only did I stare at him longingly but I also texted him.  Drunkenly.  And longingly.

Unless that’s water in the glass, in which case, you can expect a silent phone.

We all know that drunk texting never leads to anything good so I’ll skip over the part where I lost all of my self-respect at the bottom of that bottle of vodka and underneath my cell phone. Essentially I texted out all my dignity at this boy.  I laid it out on the line.  I told him what I thought of him, what I wanted from him, what I wanted to do with him.

And he took it pretty well.

Granted, he didn’t reciprocate my feelings.  I don’t blame him.  On his side of things a crazy-ass girl blurted out all her feelings at one time, with no indication that this was how she felt in previous  interactions.  This was out of le bleu.

But, I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of myself, even if I was a crazy-ass girl (that part I would like to have imagined happening differently).  I went after the guy I wanted, no hesitation, and even though the outcome wasn’t what I wanted, I feel happy knowing that I didn’t just sit back and wait.

I’m just glad that I tried, even if it didn’t work, it’s a big step for me.

And, guy in vest, you know who you are, if you’re reading this, sorry for drunkenly text-attacking you, but I meant every word that I said.

A single consolation prize.


It’s there: that knee-high golden trophy that you’ve been working your butt off to get.  Maybe it’s at a party in a really nice pair of jeans or maybe it’s at the grocery store showing off a wicked sense of humor.  Either way, you’ve had your eyes on the prize and you know what you deserve.  You want to win.  You want to come out on top (or on the bottom, that’s more of a preference thing) and hold that trophy up for all to see.

That, generally speaking, is the basics of dating.  Wanting to obtain the other person, the trophy, to gain a sense of victory that is more fulfilling.  And sometimes its nice to think of yourself as the prize that is sought after.

It’s fun to picture yourself at a jousting tournament and that those knights are trying to knock each other over just for the privilege of having your handkerchief along with them when they go to battle.  But, when in real life, you look out and there is not a single guy laying himself out for your attention, it can be a little unsettling.

You can check your breath, your personal musk, and your general appearance but sometimes there’s just no suitor adding gifts to the piles left behind by your many other invisible suitors.

That’s bad enough.

Then there is the guy who chooses to come back to you because he got rejected by another girl.

At least if you win this consolation prize you get 10 bucks...

That’s worse.

Nothing says  “Hey, you aren’t that bad-looking” like  the dejected look on this guy’s face.  And sometimes you think this is the best you’ll get.  And you let yourself ignore the look.And just like that you become his consolation prize.

Being a consolation prize is a little like being in dating limbo, not a friend but not dating either.  You’re suspended in between the two.

So, how do we stop you from being stuck in this awful situation? Easy:


Don’t subject yourself to this.  No matter how few men are knocking at your door, don’t let your guard down for a few haphazard kisses.  It’s never worth it.  No matter how much you like kissing or how good he is at kissing.

And for those of you who are consolation prizes or didn’t realize it until right now: go get mad.  Go hit balls.  Take a club and go to the driving range.  Get a bat and go to batting cages.  Hell, get a paddle and play a competitive game of ping-pong.  Just hit something round.  And then when he comes back with that pathetic look on his face you won’t hit him in his balls but you will say hell no.

And you’ll be free.  Free to find the guy that thinks of you like this:

A single smiley, part deux.


This is my puppet soul sister, Kate Monster, from Avenue Q

There really isn’t much to add to my last post but I was listening to my iPod and the song “Mix Tape” from Avenue Q came on and I thought that it went along with what I was saying about over-analyzing every message a guy gives me.  I would have to say that if a guy gave me a mix tape like the one Kate Monster, the girl singing, gets, I would probably analyze it in similar fashion.

Also, if you’ve never heard the Avenue Q Soundtrack you should head over to youtube and check it out. It’s like listening to an adult version of Sesame Street. Granted, I’m really considering posting a song from the show with each of my blogs this week just because I can, so you could just stay tuned.   

A single temperature shift.


It’s gotten significantly cooler.

Wait.  Did you adjust the thermostat? Because now it’s hotter than a summer day in Hell.

Oh wait, apparently Hell has frozen over because it’s cold again.

Hot and cold.  Hot and cold.  I’m having hot flashes and I’m not going through premature menopause.

As always, my main ailment are boys.  All boys have a tendency to do this.  They will be into you one second and then BAM! they are as out of tune with you as Miley Cyrus is autotuned.

So why do they do this?  If I could answer this question I would probably win some sort of Nobel Peace Prize or something.  My main theory is that the moon needs to be in line with Jupiter and Uranus for him to consistently be interested.  Another theory I’ve been working on is that maybe, if he doesn’t seem totally into you, that he probably isn’t totally into you.

I just watched “He’s Just Not That Into You…” so there is a 90.45% chance that my reasoning has be muddled with all that bullshit “exception theory” but they could be on to something despite how pathetic the girls in that movie are.  He will totally be into you (none of that hot and cold nonsense) when he is actually interested in you.

Simple.  Right?

Not quite.

Because this hot and cold nonsense has us reeling 24/7.  When it’s hot we think that maybe he is into us.  And when it’s cold, well, we just want to believe that he’s still interested, just busy.

So, not only do we have to deal with his mind games, we have to deal with our own.  After cramps, over-analyzing things is another reason why it sucks to be a woman.

The only thing I can think of telling anyone in this situation to do, that may help, is do what I’ve done while writing this post.  Pour yourself some wine from a box and listen to Katy Perry’s song “Hot N’ Cold.”

Ten Ways to Get A Guy to Chase After You


Ladies and Gentlegays!

Step right up! Have you ever felt that all you do is run after the boys you like? Can you remember the last time you were actually pursued? Then A Single Blog has the solution for you: ten, count them, TEN, simple tricks to get your guy to chase after you.

So gather round.  Don’t push, don’t push.  Pull up your chairs and share with your friends.  And I implore you to try these untested methods of man baiting.


10. Bacon Perfume: This might be a stretch but seeing as everyone loves bacon and girls already wear perfume to lure boys in then maybe A+B truly equals C.  Maybe Bacon Perfume to get boys to follow after you is the right choice.  And if your targeted boy is the earthy-crunchy, non-bacon eating type (why people don’t eat bacon is beyond me) then you can always summon them with the sultry scent of Tofu Perfume. 

9.  Give it the Good Old Fashion Caveman Try: Club him over the head and drag him behind you.  This is for the more desperate of women but, if this is your last resort then, at least, he is following behind you. And kidnapping is a lesser offense.

8. Sneaky Bitch: Make him think he wants you by acting like you don’t think he’s the bee’s knees.  CAUTION: This will backfire if you end up acting like a complete bitch.  As one of the girls I interviewed about for this list said, “You want him to question himself. Force him to ask himself ‘do I like this girl?'”  That may sound counter intuitive but if you look at any real love situation you’ll see that the guy isn’t always, necessarily, 100% sure of what he wants right away.  It’s always about that chase.

7. Milkshake: My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they are like it is better than yours is… or something like that.  Either way I’m assuming that if I make a damn good milkshake then boys will be flocking to my backyard for a party.  That has to be what Kelis was talking about.  I’m sure of it.  Try it out, let me know.

6. Be Easy going: Obviously this means that you need to be as low maintenance as possible.  Don’t be like Alex and send all those obnoxious text messages... Independence is key to attracting guys – who wants to be with the clingy girl?

5. The Beer Can on a Stick Trick: This is a simple little project.  Get the beer of your guy’s choice and tie it to a string that’s attached to a stick or fishing rod or something sturdy.  Hang it behind of you and just out of your guy’s grasps.  RUN! Look behind you! He will be chasing eagerly.

4. Pie in the Window: Learn to cook or bake.  That’s it.  Boys are controlled by two things: their stomachs and their penises.  Both are easy to appease but one involves less work.

3. Sports Sandwich: Sandwich boards are relatively cheap to buy.  So invest.  Get a sign that, front and back, reads: “I’ll let you watch sports whenever you want and never complain!” Boom.  And he’s off after you.

2. Video Game Seductions: Cut a hole in your backpack so that when you put a TV in anyone walking behind you can see the screen.  Add a game console and casually drop a wireless controller in front of a boy as you walk away.  He will want to play video games so badly that he’ll follow you to your house.

1. Sofia Vergara Suit: A little bit harder to obtain but it should work wonders.  She’s hot.  Hell, I would chase after her if I saw her walking down the street.

A single text.


Texting is not something I enjoy – I do it because it’s one of the few ways I can communicate with the people in my generation.  I can’t text quickly,  I still don’t understand T9 and don’t expect me to ever text you back if I’m walking somewhere.

That being said,  I sometimes have to text boys that I’ve met online and usually I don’t mind it.  I usually don’t mind it, that is, until I started texting Alex last week.

Alex had a lot of promise online so I gave him my number so that we could talk a little more frequently.  Big mistake on my part.

It was going well until we were having a late night chat and I fell asleep.  I woke up to over 20 texts the next morning.  20? Seriously? And, since he made a fool of himself, I decided to share it with you – his idiocy is your entertainment.

A: So what are you up to tomorrow
A: Do you have class
A: I bet you get bored in class
(On occasion)
A: Are you tired
(Of you? Yes.)
A: Im tired
A: Did you fall asleep

A: Youre not answering 
(You should follow your instincts – Your text before this was a good guess)
A: Did I do something
A: You must of fallen asleep
A: Its pretty late
A: I cant blame you
A: Definitely going to bed soon
(Good, It’s pretty late)
A: Am I hungry right now
A: Just made some nachos 
A: Do you like Mexicans 
(I’m assuming he meant Mexican but I do like both)
A: I do.
A: Mmmm nachos
(Yes, nachos are satisfying.)
A: Youre easy to talk to
A: I feel like I could talk to you all night without getting bored
(I fell asleep – obviously the feelings aren’t mutual)
A: Alright bed
A: Alex out
(Out of what? Do you have something to tell me, sir?)

Alex and I were supposed to go out on Friday – I put an end to that real quick.  
Like I said, I don’t enjoy texting.