Fucking Fabulous

- A (fierce!) piece inspired by Valentine's Day -

Dear soulmate,

I have waited for you all my life. Maybe you don't exist, just like Santa (sorry, kids). Maybe you're bad at Google Maps and can't seem to find me. Maybe I should be sent to a loony bin for hallucinating writers.

I have been actively searching for you for the past 12 years, and my well-meaning friends have been actively telling me that this is the wrong thing to do. That I should just let "it" happen. In my case, "it" and "nothing" seem interchangeable. And with friends like these, who needs a.......I kid, I kid. I do love my friends (in case any of them are reading this).

Anyway, like everything else that I ever desired, I did my best to find you. I dated countless men, some who were downright terrible because at that time I didn't know any better about dating or even about myself. I've tried meeting men organically, bravely put up profiles on dating sites showing the thinner side of my face like Mariah Carey does (you're lovely, Mimi, but the jig is up). I even tried speed dating! By now I have enough dating experience under my faux leather belt that I could probably write a book about it and make plenty of simoleons ala JK Rowling.

More than a decade has passed since the first time I gave my heart to a man. I know myself better now. Unlike before, I know I am loveworthy, and that I will not tolerate bullshit from anyone. 

It has been 12 long years and you still haven't appeared in my life. And yet my life is pretty awesome now. I sincerely think that I am actually the luckiest girl alive. I have all that matters; a roof over my head, enough meals a day, a job that kicks ass, family and friends...Maslow would say that I have done a good job fulfilling all of my needs.

Speaking about needs, here's the thing: I don't need you. But I do want a great man to share a life with. My stupid sappy heart keeps believing that you exist, and that you are looking for me too, not because you need me, but because you want me in your life.

Sometimes you appear in my dreams, and though in them I could never see your face, but I feel loved by you. I could feel the warmth radiating from you as if it was real and not just a dream. My optimistic brain tells me that you are smart, kind, strong, and patient. Every molecule in my body believes that you exist.

So why aren't you here yet?

I've asked myself that question many times and I could never answer it. Some people in my life ask me that question too. After 12 years, I am running out of jokes to gently brush them off instead of pushing them off a cliff so that the sharks below can have a happy meal.

Maybe some things are meant to be mysteries. Maybe you don't exist and I am destined to be alone. Maybe for a millisecond I am just feeling a wee bit shitty about being single on that one awful day when the entire world seems hell bent on showing off that they have bloody soulmates.

Well screw them. Understand this: while it would be good for you to finally turn up, if you don't, I will be fine. In fact, I will be more than just fine. 

I will be fucking FABULOUS.

Single and (Dating) the City

Do you remember that scene from Interstellar, when Anne Hathaway had landed at a planet that was livable, but she's all alone?

I feel like that sometimes. Except that this livable planet I'm in is actually inhabited by other Homo sapiens. Overpopulated even.

I've been in this city for five months now. It also means that I've gone five months without dating. It's beginning to feel like a long-running comedy gag, with me occasionally joking to friends that if I make it to a year, I'd check into a nearby convent. Might as well be there since the possibility of finding dates there are nun. #pun #ohsoclever #lame

A friend once told me that dating is a numbers game. The higher your frequency of dating, the higher your chances of meeting someone who's right for you. The thing is, I can't even get a first date in this city!

I'll be honest; I am somewhat picky, but only sensibly so. I look forward to meeting intelligent, funny, and kind guys who can speak my first language fluently. When I told a local friend here about this, she told me, "You can't find any local guy here who can tick all those boxes". No wonder those who match highly with me on a dating website are all foreigners from Farawayville, whom I may also never meet. Yay!

In moments of weakness (especially on weekends when the entire city goes on dates except for me), I sometimes question my judgement in moving to the city of no available decent men. The other day, I jokingly told my colleague that the women in our office (where 90% of the staff are single females) are like Sumatran rhinos: seemingly no chance in hell to meet available men organically. 

Moving here hasn't been easy; though I have the best job in the world, outside of work I haven't found much to keep my plate full and interesting. I guess I'm missing the comforts of my old world. Or perhaps I haven't given this city a fair chance to show me what it has in store for me. 

Maybe I should just date the city, like Carrie Bradshaw.