I'm a 36-year-old woman who has never had a relationship last longer than a few months, and even then, those relationships were casual. When I look back on my dating past – or lack thereof – I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me? I don't have a fear of commitment. I'm not a lunatic. I'm not unattractive. Men have crushes on me often, but it's never the ones I want. What's happening? Is it men or is it me?
I want to give up. Everyone around me seems so happy in their relationships. I'm starting to think I will die alone, and no matter what anyone says, the thought of that scares the shit out of me.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you being alone forever is "just fine" and "totally feminist" and give you a whole regurgitated Chelsea Handler routine. I won't do this for one reason: you don't believe it yourself. If you haven't convinced yourself out of this feeling at age 36, then I won't in a few paragraphs. There is nothing wrong with wanting to share your life with someone.
It's been proven that swans mate for life, as do gray wolves, black vultures, gibbons and pot-bellied seahorses. Mating is survival in the animal world. We can't prove animals love like we love. Even Schistosoma mansoni worms "mate for life." These parasites partner up and reproduce inside human bodies, infecting them with "snail fever." You want your own Schistosoma mansoni. That's not as gross as it sounds.
I'm going to tell you something you do not want to hear: the problem is you. It's not who you are, or what you say, or what you wear, or how you smell. It's your inability to give these men who are "never the ones you want" a fighting chance.
I have had many friends like you, but one in particular stands out. I'll call her Lola. Lola is a gorgeous, smart and picky little fucker who was constantly saying "no" to men who did not meet the standard she had made up in her mind. Even worse than just creating impossible standards, Lola would often crush on men who were already in relationships, and would lust after them in the way a young girl imagines marrying Devon Sawa every time she watches Now and Then. (Yeah, I was born in 1985.)
Lola had plenty of men show interest in her, but because they didn't play in a band or bead their own moccasins, she just wasn't interested. Lola is my friend, so I obviously wanted to kick the stupid out of her skull and make her see that she was throwing away all these possible suitors, only to replace those potential dates with complaining and whining about being alone.
Lola was her own worst enemy. She prevented herself from getting what she wanted and it sounds like you are, too.
You can’t make someone like you, but you can take the stick out of your ass and go out for drinks with someone who likes you enough to ask you out. You can strip away your bullshit fantasy standards. I'm not saying "settle." Going on one date is not "settling." Do you really want to find someone who makes you happy or has it been so long that you are petrified of failure? Have you lost the will to fuck and replaced it with complaining and Netflix?
I know what you’re thinking: Why should I waste an evening on a date with a person I’m not interested in? Because it's just that. It's only one evening of your life. What is the alternative? Sitting at home, one eye on the TV while the other follows your finger as you swipe left until the wine wears off?
Promise me that the next time you get asked out, you will go? If he ends up an ex-KKK member with an addiction to child porn and a sixth toe, then I'm SORRY. At least you'll have a World's Worst Date story to kick off your spinster memoir.
I wish you luck and love.
EMAIL MISH: Send Mish your own sex questions and queries to sex@westender.com.
