single life in nyc
July 2, 2009
Let’s just face it. Sex & The City is a lie. Singledom in NYC is not all goings out and pretty dresses and girly pink cocktails. It’s work. And I’m sick and tired of it.
I’m sick and tired of dolling myself up, going out, getting hit on by some guy who I suspect is a player so I don’t give him my number only later to question my decision. So next time I go out not only do I give the guy my number, but I give him a lot more. 8 hours later and the sun is up and he’s still under my sheets and I want him to get the hell out. You know, sometimes a one night stand is all I want, but some little bit of moral la-dee-da gets stuck in my head and all of a sudden I’m calling myself out as a whore.
So here I am, let’s see, probably 10 months without sex. TEN. It could be worse, sure, but it could definitely be a hell of a lot better.
So do I go out, try to find someone for some one night fun, and break the spell, or do I do what I’ve been trying to do – and that is actually find a partner, someone to hold hands with, sleep in Sunday mornings and order in pancakes, picnics in Central Park, kisses on Park Ave.
Maybe my problem is lazyness. I’m just too damn lazy to date in NYC. I want my man and I want it now and I don’t want to search for it. Dating is no fun, I’m not good at it. I’m good at relationships and I’m good at one night stands. The in betweens don’t work for me.
So the solution? Still working on it, but at least I’ve got my vibrator to tide me over.
