I woke up in my best guy friend’s bed wearing his t-shirt. Cheeky, I thought, as I could not perfectly recollect the night. Had our relationship taken a turn for the positive? He quickly reassured me that our friendship was intact, and he had let me borrow his clothes because I face planted into my nachos on Market Street, and my dress now had a nasty, but delicious, cheese stain on it. He gave me a high-five goodbye, accidentally missed my hand and hit my boob… and that’s the most action I’ve had in a while.

I don’t know why people keep giving me dating advice like: “Keep throwing yourself out there,” “Don’t be so picky,” or “Stop trying to impress men with your abundant knowledge of Blink 182 song lyrics.”

Much to my parents’ disdain, I have done an incredible job of being single. In fact, I’ve been single since Space Jam was popular. (Wait, Space Jam has never not been popular… I digress.) My dad tried to reinvent my life when he was vising in September. I walked into my flat to see him pulling out all of my clothes from my closet. “You will never get a man wearing these. We’re donating this… ratchet.” He also snapchats my university friends offering them a dowry, and though it started as a joke, I’ve now received texts from random numbers taking me up on the offer.

I haven’t accepted… yet, but keep trying- maybe when I’m 29 and single.

In the world of “The Bubble” I’m surrounded by couples that have been dating straight from the womb or model-esque beings only interested in causal liaisons, meanwhile I’m sat home alone on the couch watching 50 Shades of Grey on repeat.

It’s not that I haven’t been dating guys/interested in them. They just all have tragic flaws like: not being interested in me, being too boring, moving to different countries, ignoring my fan mail (Looking at you, DiCaprio).

I dabbled in the world of Tinder but was deterred by one date that ended with a piñata and dick tattoo (not on me, we’re good.) I actually still have my account but put “dabble” in the past tense in case my mom is reading this.

In terms of meeting guys naturally, my biggest shot is each week at karaoke when I’m offered sexual favours for queue jumps. I never accept, but it’s super flattering and not demeaning at all.

My current crush thinks all of my flirting is a joke, or realizes that I’m serious and is too nice to say anything about it. So I’ll just continue to smile as he calls me “mate,” and hits my arm in a playful but very much “I’m not interested in getting with you” manner.
So, no. Mom and Dad, you can stop asking on an hourly basis. I have not yet met a man, but as a word of advice- it’d probably be a confidence boost if next time I tell you I have a date, you don’t laugh for a solid five minutes.

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