I will survive.

I had someone at work tell me that I needed to date someone who reads books. (Not the first time this has happened.)

I then had someone text me a picture of a wedding cake, and ask me what kind of cake I wanted at my wedding.

I don’t know what’s out there in the universe, but something’s up. I really don’t want to be bogged down with suggestions about my single-dom and how to fix it. I’m not sure anything needs to be fixed.

I’m not going to say that I don’t miss being in a relationship (some women, newly empowered with their “OH MY GOD I CAN SURVIVE LIKE THIS!” attitudes, will always say that). I haven’t been in a relationship for three years. I am just starting to believe I can date, but even that feels a bit weird (all of my relationships were long-term. All of my relationships were men who were friends before they were boyfriends. To go on a Carly Rae Jepsen “Hey I just met you…” sort of date? SCARY). Society says that dating means a series of montages in which you go out to dinner a lot, or you go dancing, or you get drunk and fuck.

…I’m not sure how I feel about that, either.

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll find myself in a relationship, eventually. I’m sure that when the powers that be deem me ready, they’ll practically throw Channing Tatum (or someone similar) in my lap.