Chronicle of a Single Girl’s New Year’s Resolution

 
December 31, 2010.  Resolved:  This year I will find myself a man.  To fulfill this resolution, I will:
1. Sometimes leave the house.
2. Shave my legs even in the winter months.
3.  Stop deleting potential eHarmony matches based on their photo alone.
4. Upon spotting a potential mate, smile and say hello and generally act cool.
5. Floss and gargle twice daily.
6. Participate in male-oriented hobbies like whiskey-tastings and co-ed cricket.
7. Stop engaging in men-are-pigs discussions with other single girls.
8. Host parties and invite men, too.
9. Go on dates.
 
January 1, 2011.  Spent the day under a blanket on the couch.  (Everyone knows New Year’s resolutions don’t officially become effective until January 2, because January 1 is for sleeping off the holidays.)
 
January 2.  Spent the day under a blanket on the couch.  (Too cold to venture out.)
 
January 3-31.  Spent the day under a blanket on the couch.
 
February 2.  Shaved legs, flossed, and gargled for the first time since last year and ventured out of groundhog hole, er, bachelorette pad.  Saw the shadow of an eligible man, freaked out, and darted back into the hole and under a blanket on the couch.
 
February 14.  Hosted a party in honor of Singles Awareness Day, requiring guests to wear all black and bring another single to mix and mingle.  Darla, Sharon, and Agnes showed up, bringing with them Marsha, Violet, and Suzy.  (“But we don’t know any single guys.”)  Spent the evening admiring each other’s black fashions.
 
March 20.  Found the perfect guy-watching bar in the heat of March Madness and placed self front and center.  “Excuse me, miss, can I ask you something?”  “Of course, anything at all.”  “Would you mind moving your head so I can see the game?”
 
April 3.  Wonder what’s happening in my eHarmony account these days.  Gaaaah!  Freaks!  Delete, delete, and delete!
 
May 5.  Threw a Cinco de Mayo party for girls’-only book club.  Had a wild and festive time discussing the new bestseller Ditch That Jerk over margs and guac.
 
June 1.  Shaved legs in honor of the arrival of bikini season.  Sunbathed in fenced-in backyard with a stack of magazines for company, taking a Cosmo quiz to attempt to ascertain why still single.
 
July 2.  Forced self to respond to eHarmony flirtation with guy who didn’t look like a serial killer but wasn’t exactly George Clooney, either.  Agreed to meet him for coffee the following Tuesday morning (because why waste a Saturday on a date?).
 
July 5 (the following Tuesday morning).  Strange, though…woke up with a slight cough.  Cancelled date because might be contagious.
 
August 3.  Took grilling techniques class at Whole Foods.  Spent a pleasant afternoon learning how to grill steaks with classmates, four other single women who also picked the class in hopes of meeting single men.  Added the women as Facebook friends and to standing eVite party list.
 
September 15.  Joined co-ed flag football team.  Sprained ankle getting clobbered by insensitive macho jerks serious about their football, even flag-style, and was benched for the season.   
 
October 31.  Attended a Halloween party at Darla’s house and dressed as a Twister game in case any single men showed up.  Sharon, Agnes, and one of the girls from the grilling techniques class showed up, dressed, respectively, as a man magnet, a kissing booth, and Kim Kardashian.  Spent a hilarious night with the girls on Darla’s eHarmony account making fun of her matches’ photos.
 
November  10.  Emailed not-exactly-George-Clooney eHarmony guy.  Mentioned having recovered from terrible coughing disease and asked if he might want to try for coffee again.  Got invited to his wedding the following Saturday to this great girl he met on eHarmony.    
 
December 15.  Met a dead ringer for George Clooney under the mistletoe.  When he leaned in, mumbled something about forgetting to floss and generally acted uncool. 
 
December 25.  Puzzled as to why spending another holiday alone.
 
December 31, 2011.  Resolved:  This year I will find myself a man.
 
 

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