Several weeks ago on one of my (mis)adventures as being newly single, I was introduced to an concept revolved around ‘single life’ known as the ‘single girl pheromone’. Apparently, this was some sort of essence I was somehow supposed to generate towards the single men in the bar so that they would know I was ‘fresh on the market’ and completely approachable. However, after a very drunken night at the bars I discovered that this ‘pheromone’ is something ladies did not quite comprehend.
The single girl pheromone is not a projection of attitude and confidence; it’s desperation. I saw so many girls babbling about something no guy could be expected to care about (like where the bought their dress or Pilates). Unless you’re talking football stats (fun fact: I can), most men are probably not listening to you. I watched guys buy girls drinks while starring at their Victoria’s Secret-enhanced chests pretending to listen, and I remember the exact moment it hit me, like the exact moment I realized I was 6’1” with the shoes I had on; was this single life? Getting over-the-top dressed up and standing at a bar looking for the most attractive guy in the room and then making googley eyes at him until he buys you a drink? Well, that’s not my style.
As all of these thoughts and realizations were swirling around in my head, I was first hit with a wave of sadness that I no longer had ‘the guy’ all of these other single girls were desperately searching for and then it dawned on me; that’s because I don’t need one. We had a mutual break-up because we both realized we weren’t right for each other, and it’s better to be alone than with the wrong person. I don’t need one of these guys starring at me (and if they were starring it was probably because of how ridiculously tall I was), because I can enjoy being on my own. I certainly love having ‘someone’ and being in a relationship, but I would rather be single than be with someone who isn’t a good fit for me. When I am ready to date again I would bet my car that I’m not going to find ‘Mr. Right’ in a crowded bar while I’m dressed in clothes that I don’t feel comfortable in. Don’t get me wrong, I was looking pretty ‘hot’ that evening, but I felt very generic (last time I let someone dress me) and I probably looked like a confused Amazon.
So what’s the point of putting on all this effort to get ready and go out when the best possible outcome is that you make-out with a stranger in a bar (this is what was promised to me…lucky me)? If that’s the best possible outcome, then I will gladly sit on my couch and watch re-runs of The League with my dear friend Mr. John Jameson.
The right person comes into your lift at the right time which always happens when you’re not expecting it. Life falls into place and so does love. It takes time, patience, and being open-minded. It’s so true that the best things come to those who wait. So while I have this precious time to myself (I say that now when in a few months I may be drunk screaming that no one loves me…but let’s be optimistic), I plan to enjoy my dear friends and family as well as my own company. While you’re single you should date yourself because on that first date it’s ok to put out.