One of my favorite writers recently made an announcement to bloggers that making lists does not qualify as writing. Well I guess I am a blogger and not a writer because I am making a list. I am even going to put fucking numbers on it AND I’m going to make it a top ten list.
The following is my TOP TEN list of reasons I’m going to be alone forever:
10. I am always right and you are stupid.
9. My cats have claimed my lap for their own…it’s hard to remember but I THINK that’s an important area in a relationship.
8. Last time I went on a date, the man asked me why I was looking at him like I thought he was the biggest moron in the world. Obviously dating isn’t my thing…
7. I set six alarms to wake up in the morning. If anyone else were there they would beat me to death with my alarm clock.
6. My TV set is set to the Disney Channel 24 hours a day even during major sporting events. My Netflix recommends things like Mary Kate & Ashley movies because I’m not the one who uses it the most.
5. At my house if you close the door to the bathroom then that is an automatic invitation for any kid or cat to barge in. If you remember to lock the door, you will see tiny fingers and/or paws under the door desperately trying to gain access to your private space, along with a million questions and/or meows yelled and/or howled through the door.
4. You don’t think I am as brilliant as my audience of Facebook friends does so I am not going to pay that much attention to you.
3. You will never be able to convince me that you work harder than me so I feel no obligation to:
a. clean up after you
b. cook for you
c. do your laundry
d. rub your back
e. let you have the remote control
2. As soon as you meet my family (excluding my sweet, wonderful, smelly children), you will be convinced that there is no God and the Devil reigns free over the universe.
1. I’m too tired to deal with anyone’s weird sexual fantasies, and contrary to what most men think…you do not deserve a blow job on a regular basis unless you also do wonderful, fantastical things on a regular basis.
“Everyone knows that dating in your thirties is not the happy-go-lucky free-for-it-all it was when you were twenty-two and that the honest answer [to the question ‘How’s your love life, anyway?’] is more likely to be, ‘Actually, last night my married lover appeared wearing suspenders and a darling little Angora crop-top, told me he was gay/a sex addict/a narcotic addict/a commitment phobic and beat me up with a dildo, “than, “Super, thanks.”” –Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones’s Diary)