Single Girl Walking

It was Saturday night, and I was having one those nights. The nights when you look at the clock and it's suddenly 10pm and you're still sitting on your couch in the same sick sweaty clothes you worked out in 5 hours ago with hair that's still matted to your head (how this is possible after 5 hours I am uncertain) but the idea of trying to create some sort of socially acceptable ensemble sounds like too arduous a task. So it's looking like a Saturday night ice cream and movie hibernation kind of night.. its the one chick cliché I allow myself...

(that and munching my cuticles

· US weekly magazine

· the elliptical machine

· Bashing Kim Kardashian .. then secretly Googling what mascara she uses

· My over use of the word "cute"

· Youtubing The Warbler's on Glee then downloading Blaine's amazing rendition of Destiny Child's "Bills Bills Bills" and adding it to my gym playlist.

· Vodka soda's because lets face it, tonic really does have "too many calories"

· Late night taco truck because calories you cant remember are calories that don’t matter... riiiight??

· Spending 3 hours each morning mastering the "effortless" look only to sit at my desk for hours on end surrounded by females.

· Disecting a text for eight hours that says "what r u doin?"

· Drafting and re-drafting a response to the above. period? no period? ellipses...

· My obsession with the "Cake Boss" and the way he says the word "Fawndawnt" (what this is, I have no clue).

· Lifetime original movies.

· Bitching about NYC's unfair ratio of hot girls to guys.

· Twilight

· Obsessing about that one time, you left your number for a bartender who asked you out to a casual drink on a Tuesday night where you proceeded to drink three "casual" tequila gimlets on an empty stomach and somewhere between the bill and the door the offer of grabbing another drink was retracted and you never heard from him again... yiiiiiikes.

· Watching so many episodes of Hulu that a screen pops up and tells you just how many minutes you have been watching and if you would like a "break". oh god.

· Wonder why more guys don't approach you then put on sunglasses, headphones and open your book to read on the subway.

· Bake a batch of brownies for your room mate, realize you hate your room mate then eat them all yourself, Google weight watchers and wonder how many points you just consumed and how many days of fasting that equates.

· Get embarrassed when people invite you places and start assuming your plus one is always your brother.

· Question yourself and your friendship when your un-single best friend tells you on multiple occasions about how she's heard about a lot of people going on match.com. What are you trying to say?

· Guilty. Spending 30 dollars on a hair product that's description reads: "Brilliantine; is unique and hard to define. It gives hair polish and a sort of languid, slept in, sexy look". Who writes this shit? And why am I spending 30 dollars to roll out of bed. Damn you Bumble and Bumble with your oh so awesome packaging.

· Guilty. Spending 30 more dollars on another hair product. Description reads: "Hair (Un)Dressing Cream; It gives hair that elusive, un-done-yet-done quality, with a hint of grit, hold and tousled, shine free finish." Fuck you Bumble and Bumble. Really, fuck you. How do you do this to me?? Why am I spending my money on shit that makes my hair look like it always does; like shit. Fuck you.)

So I set out on my mission, Scouring every bodega on my block in search of the only two males that would find my completely heinous demeanor remotely acceptable; Ben and Jerry. Freezer after freezer I dug through; Cookie Dough, Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, Dublin Mudslide, Mud Pie, Chocolate Fudge Brownie... I was like the gluttonous Goldie Locks in search of the perfect flavor. This one had too many flavors, that one had too much chocolate, the other not enough.. It was exhausting. Finally, I found the perfect one. It encompassed my entire demeanor in the label: Clusterfluff. It was Peanut butter ice cream, with caramel cluster pieces and peanut butter and marshmallow swirls. Dear Christ.

As I walked home annihilating this big bucket of goodness I heard someone say "Meddy?". I pretended like I didn't just hear someone call my name. They must have said Betty or Neddy or Teddy or something. Please dear god do not be someone I know and have to engage in conversation and pretend like I do not have crusted marshmallow and peanut butter all over my face. FML. Sure enough I heard it again "Hey! Meddy". When I turned around of course it was my brother's friends. Why god? Why?
I quickly tried to cover my disgustingly sweaty head and wipe any remnants off my face from my molested pint of ice cream.

Me: Ohhhhh Heyyyy (awkwardly pulling at my Mexican poncho and stretch pants.. bc maybe if I do this they won't still resemble what they are; a poncho and stretch pants)
Friend: Hey, what are you doing?
Me: Ohhhh not much.. just having an ice cream and movie night. (I awkwardly hold up my pint of ice cream)
Friend: Hahahah on a Saturday night? So, you're single?

In that moment I realized it was time. Time to break up with Ben and Jerry, peel off the stretch pants and go on a Hulu sabbatical.