The Over-Educated Nympho

I just drove back in town from a friend’s wedding. It was so beautiful and moving that I couldn’t help but tear up during the ceremony. The newly married couple’s promise was so strong that between the ceremony and the reception I sat in my car in the parking lot and wrote out a letter to them saying as much. I sealed it in a spare ATM envelope I found on the floor of the car and tucked it away inside the tissue paper of their wedding present.

Most of the time I love being single. I relish in it and all the possibility that comes with it. Then there are nights like tonight when I come home and want to do nothing but cry, because sometimes being single really really sucks.

Over the weekend my friend Barbie and I went out to see the movie 27 Dresses. Just another silly chick flick I know, but perfect for a Saturday night girl-date.

I want the record to show that I went nearly the entire movie without crying. NEARLY. Barbie started crying at the very end and goddamnit if she cries then that unleashes my own set of water works. Jeez, sometimes I can be such a fucking girl.

Weddings and marriage don’t really do it for me, which makes it all that much more difficult to admit I’m actually a big fat softie when it comes to love.

I don’t want anyone right now and I’m okay with that, but someday when I’m ready I want someone special. How can I be such a cynic about love/dating and yet be so hopeful that I’ll fall in love one day?

I posted my response, Believe, to our latest question on Chemistry.com’s Great Mate Debate: What advice would you give a friend who is looking to find love in 2008?

See? I wrote about love. Looooove. I can be optimistic and smiley and shit. SO SUCK ON THAT.

I posted my response, There’s Good And There’s Amazing, to our sixth question on Chemistry.com’s Great Mate Debate: What three things do you think are vital to an amazing relationship?

The right answer isn’t “Tivo, wine, and Oreos” is it?

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I posted my response, Choosing To Be Together, to our third question on Chemistry.com’s Great Mate Debate: Why do you think so many couples split up once they are “empty nesters” –-once the kids are independent?

If you want to leave a comment, please do so on the Great Mate Debate website so that non-OEN readers may enjoy the brilliant things you have to say. If you have trouble posting there, then it’s okay to do so here.

*Reminder: the questions we are given to answer on GMD are often chosen from suggestions that readers send in. If you have an intriguing (or even better, controversial [ooooh I just felt a gleam in my eye]) question about the nature of relationships, please email it to blogschemistry@match.com and then you can brag to me about how awesome you are when it’s chosen and I will agree whole-heartedly and send you happy thoughts full of chocolate cupcakes.

Tonight while cleaning up the apartment, I put on DVR and found the season 3 finale to Grey’s Anatomy. Even though I’ve seen the ending several times, it still moves me to sobs. Not tears, sobs.

A girl who’s a total commitment-phobic hard-ass (and coincidentally my favorite person on the show) agrees to marry a wonderful man. At the church, she flips out and he realizes that it is not in her character to get married, so he walks out. My summary does little justice to the scene, so I suggest watching it on Youtube here [only first six minutes].

It reminds me of how close I came to losing myself in my previous relationship. Ex-BF was a great guy–it wasn’t his fault that I had started fading away. It was all mine. He didn’t know how I was supposed to be, who I once was. The fact that things like this and this make me react so strongly has me wondering why, because I suspect it’s not nearly as simple as it seems.

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Attending a friend’s wedding a couple weeks ago made me very aware of being single. During the ceremony I sat between two couples. Dateless, I sat between two couples. Both of whom were newlyweds and therefore very schmoopie!-schmoopie!! with each other.

At the reception afterward I sat at a table with four other couples. Four couples and me, without a plus-one. It didn’t make me feel guilty or lonely, but it definitely made me feel, ick, something.

I think it’s marriage cooties.

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It’s been a week and I’m still thinking about Handsome Nerd.

I want to see him again. I want to talk to him again. There are so many things I want to tell him in the light of undeniable sobriety.

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I have never been a fan of the whole marriage thing. I always thought weddings were trite and kind of lame.

Then I went to one. I don’t know what it was about this one in particular because I’ve been to others, but attending my friend Barbie’s wedding last weekend really got to me. Me, the girl who is missing the Bride Gene and runs away whenever there’s word of an epidemic of marriage cooties.

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A few days ago I received the formal invitation to my friend Dr. Barbie’s wedding. Of course I’ve had the wedding date marked on my calendar for months and months, but proper protocol (and a head count) require the formality.

In Barbie’s pretty cursive handwriting the envelope said “To Miss [Vix] and Guest.”

And GUEST. Shit.

Can I put a tiara and a white bow on my dog and bring her? I’ll give her a mild sedative so she behaves. Plus, she’s cute as a button when she’s drunk. What great entertainment for all the little cousins!

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Last night on my way home from a lame St. Patrick’s Day party (so lame that it ended before Borders closed) I bought The Average American Male. I started the novel last night and finished it this afternoon. And then masturbated for an hour and twenty minutes (it had some hot and dirty scenes).

It is a very unflattering description of how the so-called “average American male” thinks, specifically about girls. Some parts of it I had to put down because I was so disgusted, but obviously not so much that I stopped reading. There were some parts that had me laughing so hard my dogs surely thought I was crazy. And there were many many parts that made me wonder, oh fuck, do guys really think like that? All the time??

[Now stick with me here. This isn’t some poorly disguised book review in a sad effort to make twelve cents in commission. I have a point that came about from damn near crying and then screaming when I read the ending.]

An excerpt:

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Of the few regrets I have in my life, they all come down to wishing I had followed my gut instead of doing “the smart thing.” How can you rationalize away something that feels right? The gut has no reason to try to deceive you, so why do we insist on ignoring it?

What makes me say this? I was flipping through an old journal tonight when I stumbled across this entry from a couple years ago:

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