one singular sensation

I'm a single girl.

According to this author I am on the "wrong side of 25 without a ring" or, I will be, come August. I'm trying to hang on to my gag reflex here...

Regardless, try as I might I can't seem to shake my single status. I go back and forth with it. I love that I moved to New York alone, learned how to manage this big, scary city alone, and proved to myself that I can do virtually anything on my own. Regardless, a nice date with a nice man in a nice pressed shirt would be well... nice. I've been on my share of bad dates since I moved here. Some of my stories are doozies. I've lamented with other single gals about just how tough the "dating scene" is in this crazy city. Since I've never been the bubbly, outgoing type with fellas lined up outside my door and a stick to beat 'em off with, I'd venture to say that finding a perfect guy for me would be tough anywhere (plus, a girl has to have her standards and I got high ones, dontcha know?) but it appears I picked the toughest place of all to finally pay attention to the other half of the population. Guys here are finicky; they are workaholics, they are jerks and commitment phobes. They know there are millions of other girls just waiting to be swept away so why get all bent out of shape over this one? They figure they have all the time in the world to settle down and, after all, this city is a playground with one bar after another to hit... same thing goes for the women. Did I catch all the stereotypes? I'm discovering they're kind of proving themselves true. But I digress, lest I be labeled a bitter man-hating bitch.

My roommate and I are going speed dating on Sunday, for kicks. Of all the things I've done so far in New York, I'm hoping this one will prove to be more fun than not.