Dating is such a freaking pain in the a*s.



First there are the ever-present ex-boyfriends who one makes the mistake of sending friendly e-mails to occasionally, only to receive equally friendly e-mails back that sting like a wasp. (“I’m doing well too! Oh, you’re not ready to hang out yet? No hurry!" In other words, I am sooooo fine without you!”)



Then there are the great boys who like you (Friendster Boy) and you just can’t whip up an attraction for. The ones who think you’re funny and cool and smart – cute even! -- and who would probably make good husbands. I didn’t want to do it but I had to pull out the “Let’s Be Friends” line, only I swore that with time, I might see the light, and I'm hoping I still might.



Next there are the guys who get your pulse going a little, but these are invariably the emotionally unavailable guys. Melancholy Hipster Boy, for example, who sends you lots of friendly emails and makes it obvious that he wants to hang out with you but then when you do hoof it over to his apartment at 9 pm for pecan pie (when you really should be in bed so you can get up early to finish that ridiculous novel), and spends the whole time talking about himself. Like “Helloooo! I am here! Do you notice me?”



It is just discouraging sometimes, people. And I don’t have time for it. Between trying to become a bestselling novelist and a rock star, not to mention holding down a full-time job, I don't have much patience for this stuff anymore.



I’m off to California for the next few days, so there will be a much-needed break from it all. I’m worried, though, that after spending five days in suburbs, I might dissolve into a shapeless blob; please pray for me.