Twenty Four.
It's this awkward age (quite possibly more awkward than the age of twelve, beating out puberty by a landslide) where if you're single, you just might be single forever, and if you're paired up, you're probably on the road to marriage. If there's nobody even in a bird's eye view worth dating, worth getting to know, worth mingling with, does that open the door to eternal relationship doom? Or does it mean that there's something totally perfect around the corner.
Look, cupid. I don't know how many more corners I have to turn, but sock him to me already! I'm twenty four, waiting (patiently) for love, and getting very bored. My luck, Mr. Right is probably offroading in Australia with his "mates" and never wants to get married or start a family. He just wants to drink Fosters and play in his band for the rest of his existence. Or, even more so my luck, he's already dead, passed away thanks to a bungee jumping adventure gone terribly wrong. (That's the kind of man I would date, just my luck.) Or maybe I was supposed to marry Jack Sparrow, and we just weren't fortunate enough to live in the same era. I am not complaining, I would make a terrible pirate.
Not that I'm worrying about it or anything (eh hem), I'm just wondering, how does this work, exactly? Am I doomed for eternity, or do I wait a little bit longer? Basically, do I throw my pity party now, or 5 years down the road. I have invitations to send out...
Why is it that all men that exist at this particular point in time (no offense, dudes), either, A. Have no interest in settling down, what-so-ever. B. Are total lame, tools who mimic Hugh Heffner's life. C. Are just ... well, losers. Ok, there's a d. D. Are perfect, but are just not interested.
What is WRONG with you guys??? Ohh that's right, you have testosterone. Silly me.
For all of you single men out there, either move to Australia and go offroading and beer drinking with the man I'll never marry, or go bungee jumping (oh, Ali, that's just cruel). I need to sort out my options. You know, see what's left. I'm getting impatient.
P.S. Please have good credit, a nice spacious apartment in brooklyn, wear your jeans tight, and be musically inclined. I will love you until the cows come home.
