Tag Archives: being single

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I Asked 6 Dating Experts Why I’m Still Single

I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of dating coaches. I’m actually friends with a few of them (it’s a small dating and love world, y’all) – and I love learning how they coach people to find love. Since I consider myself to be a pretty active, able and positive single gal, I never thought I needed the professional services of someone to teach me how to date…but I was curious about their expert advice on playing (and eventually getting off) the field.

So I decided to turn the tables and have a few love & relationship coaches interview ME instead of the other way around. These folks asked really tough questions about who I am, what I want and what type of guys I date and gave me tough love advice that maybe – just maybe – will land me a boyfriend.

Here’s what six dating coaches think I’m doing wrong in love:

1. I’m being too aggressive.

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When You Shouldn’t Compromise for Love—and When You Might Want to Settle

If there’s anything being single for the past three years has taught me, it’s that I’d rather be happy by myself then unhappy in a relationship. Maybe it’s because my parents’ almost-30-year marriage is a beautiful example of what I think a great couple is, or maybe it’s because my friends have managed to date really amazing guys. But when it comes to love, whomever I end up with better be the bomb-diggity—or I’ll pass.

That being said—if you ask anyone who knows me pretty well, they’d say that I was pretty picky.

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I Was Rejected By a Guy Because of Something I Wrote on This Blog

If there’s one thing I won’t reveal on a first date, it’s my last name.

Thanks to a robust writing portfolio and popular dating blog, if a dude searches my name after our happy hour meet-up, he could discovereverything I think about dating, love, and sex. Sorry you’re not sorry, Google! It is sometimes really, really frustrating to have the thing that you love to do be the thing you can’t tell possible boyfriends about (until they get to know you, at least).

Even though it’s something I’ve dealt with since I started writing about my love life four years ago, I’ve never felt ashamed about any of my blog posts until a few weeks ago when I went out with Aaron.

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I Know You Exist

I know you exist.

Somewhere out in this mad city, or this crazy country or this beautifully ridiculous world, I know you exist. You have hopes that I’ve never heard, that I don’t know about yet, but these dreams paired with my wild ambitions will create our future. You have been walking on this planet, doing things and making things and being things that mean something to you. I know you are working that 9-6 (or 7 or 8) just like me, wondering when you’ll get where you’re going, even if you’re not sure where that is, exactly, just yet. I know you wake up every morning and you go to sleep every night, and in those hours, those minutes, those seconds in between, you make hundreds of decisions that have yet to lead you to me.

I know you are loved.

There is this family, these friends, these people that have the privilege to talk to you daily. These people have heard your laugh and felt your embrace, they know your voice when you speak and they have memories that go back to the decades I’ve never known you. There are people who think of you because you’ve actually spent time with them, there are women who have shared your heart and your hands, your bed and been stuck in your head. There are people who know your favorite dish, how you take your whiskey and what team you cheer for on Sundays and Mondays at the pub near your apartment, on some street in some place in some city. There are people who love you because you are already so wonderful.

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Stop Wondering What You Don’t Have

There was a period of time last year when I basically refused to go out.

I wouldn’t say I was depressed – that’s a bit of an exaggeration for me – but I wasn’t happy. There were a lot of things going on, from my family to my non-existent love life – and no matter how hard I tried or how much I damned myself to be more hopeful, I just couldn’t get there. And when my friends all made fun plans to go bar hopping in Brooklyn or hit up a gimmicky club in the Lower East Side, I politely joined them for dinner and weaseled my way out of of the late night excursions.

Logically, I knew that staying home snuggled up with my pup wouldn’t get me closer to finding The Infamous Love of All Loves – but emotionally, I couldn’t stomach standing in some crowded place, having drinks spilled on me and drunken guys attempting to hit on me while slurring their words. I wasn’t in the mood for it and frankly, at the time, I didn’t believe it would actually help me meet anyone worth meeting (I’m still not convinced it will, for the record, but I do go out more now). But more than the immature 24-year-olds hitting on me or the blaring pop music…

…it was all of those girls.

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