It's just my life.

This past weekend has been a whirlwind of the opposite sex, and it seems like all of the sudden men everywhere are coming out of the woodwork. Not everywhere, no more than eight or so, but still, way more than usual for my life. I'm still on what I consider to be the fairly low end of hookups and relationships, and I sincerely hope that I haven't treaded into the murky, slutty waters yet. Here's hoping.

So I was talking to my go to guy pal. He and I have a mutual hatred of the opposite sex : I hate men, he hates women. Hate's a really strong word, but I'm about eighty-seven percent sure we're serious. Basically, we analyze and listen to each others romantic (or lack there of) situations and remind each other that we are superior beings when it comes to men and women, and we always deserve better, if not the best. Earlier this evening, I was describing to him the impressive amount of male texting and contact I've had this past weekend. It was weird. I had this theory, which I described to him.

Men, having radar. A signal goes off on said radar when a woman that they find semi-attractive has her eyes on the prize. The prize being one guy, who she is moderately interested in or is considering making her sole interest. Wording on that could definitely better, but Jack Daniels and I are having a disagreement. Lo and behold, my man friend tells me that no, they don't have radar but they do have something called "Last Ditch Effort Mode". This kicks in when a woman's single window is closing, so they put it all out there and put their best foot forward to net said woman. Thank goodness this wasn't all in my head.

And thank goodness for an unbiased, straight-forward, often too honest male opinion. Update on my single female window soon.

Just in cases.

According to men, men are simple creatures, and up until approximately 2 weeks ago I agreed with them. However, I think I may have changed my mind.

I was pretty sure that the questions, "Do you think he likes me?" and "Does he like me?" should have stopped being uttered the day I turned twenty-anything. Sadly, I find my friends and I to be using them more than ever lately. It disgusts me, but at the same time I'm intrigued. It should be simple to figure out, or maybe we're just so scared to let ourselves think that someone does like us that we spend time analyzing it to death. Why can't we just step back and say, well this is happening, and so is this, intimacy check, ok good to know - he's into me? The problem is, at least for me, the question mark is never-ending and that's something I need to work on, or I'm going to stomp on every potentially good situation that comes along.

That's another thing I realized. I've come to think that maybe stamping something with a label is where it all goes wrong. The second you call someone your boyfriend or girlfriend, there are certain expectations that come along with it. I think my early New Year's resolution will be to stop analyzing, at least when it comes to men and what they're thinking. That includes all men.

Good plan? Yes.

This was short and stupid, my apologies.

I like chocolate milk in my coffee.

I happen to be employed somewhere that sells bedding, bath accessories, and a million other things..I'll let you guess where I work. Anyway, the other day I happened to be doing my job, running about greeting people and what not, and after I helped a certain middle-aged woman I saw her run back to her husband. They embraced in such a fun, lit-up, in love sort of way, that I thought out-loud, "That's what I want my marriage to look like when I'm that age." Sure enough, several minutes later she'd gathered the three female employees on that side of the store and was handing us magnets to a Pure Romance-esque website (I won't name which one). She begins to describe the website, the products, the parties, etc, and then somehow brings up that she met her significant other on eHarmony. So the middle-aged chemistry that I was just envying from afar developed on the internet? Get out. I'm still not completely on board, but I am certainly not in any place to rule out any way of meeting "the one". Assuming that he exists, which seems about as likely as the existence of the Tooth Fairy (I'm still crossing my fingers for Santa Claus).

If it could speak, what would the online dating profile for a twenty-three year old pessimist say? Well, all those years of schooling and the first day when the teacher asked you to say or write one unique thing about yourself? In fourth grade I came up with my contact lenses. After that, I pretty much came up with nothing and silently prayed they'd forget about me. However, now I seem to have a surplus of really weird, stupid things that I think may be unique. At the very least, I think they would be relevant if I were ever to meet someone.

Ok, lies. They're mostly just funny, and hopefully a good space filler.

I don't care what disease Diet Coke is bound to give me someday. I'm not stopping anytime soon.

I enjoy factoring chocolate into my coffee, especially when it's in my giant Santa Claus mug. This could explain the jitters.

I have been told that I make good faces. Looking back on childhood photos, it's apparent that in that sense not much has changed. Approximately 68 percent of these faces are Jim Halpert inspired.

The top 5 on my list, in no particular order, are as follows : Shia LaBeouf, Ryan Gosling, John Krasinski, Gerard Butler, and Bradley Cooper.

I am a Buckeyes fan til death, and no I didn't enjoy how Florida embarassed us during my first few years of school, but I still can't help my sexual attraction towards Tim Tebow. Whoops?

I say whoops, and oops, way too much.

The right kind of music can make my knees weak or bring me to tears. Searching for a man to absolutely do the first thing, and refrain from the second.

I hate the word dollop.

I love the word snack.

If I could transport back to the 50s I would just drink vino with Dino.

I absolutely adore everything about Italy, and I'm hoping it doesn't let me down when I finally get there (TBA).

I get chills and sometimes tears in my eyes after the last verse in "The Music of the Night", when it becomes solely orchestral.

I quote things constantly, to the point where it's embarassing. In fact, I commonly use these phrases, all of which I have taken from one show : On an unrelated note, I do not, Of course, Fact, Question.

I really wish I'd practiced those instruments more.

I just want to jam.

I love blankets, and cuddling.

This is me at 23.

Stretching to make paragraphs meet.

There are nine million other things I should be doing at this moment. Okay, nine million give or take. Yet, here I am with my enormous Santa Claus coffee mug filled to the brim with goodness, and I'm contemplating taking a step back and changing my ways. Don't worry, it's nothing serious, but I'm fairly positive that I learned a valuable life lesson on Tuesday. And that, my friends, is :

Never underestimate the power of a strongly worded letter (or e-mail).

It took me far too many years, several hours of my mother complaining outloud, and a raging case of PMS (whoops) to finally write my first one. My mother had ordered a Nativity scene for our front yard Christmas display this year, and since my parents are still fairly new to ordering things online, picked a website that I could have designed better myself. Oh, wait, I did, when I was in ninth grade. My bad. So I sat down to write an e-mail from my mother to this idiotic company. It was mildly sarcastic, professional, yet fairly condescending. I loved it, I clicked send. On Tuesday we had no tracking number, arrival date, or any of the necessary information about our delivery. Today, it will be delivered by the UPS man. Upon hearing this, I thought to myself, "Hm. Well that's one way to get what I want."

Now, stay with me because tying this in to something man or twenty-something related might be tricky and stupid, but I'm going for it anyway. I guess the question I'm asking is :

How big of a bitch does one need to be, in order to get what she wants out of a relationship?

Yes, it's out there. I'll be the first to admit that I've been completely and utterly spineless in my only two relationships. I've taken a personal vow to myself, and I don't plan on letting that happen again. If it keeps me from being in a relationship, then so be it. Ultimatums, which my friends have often suggested I give out, I have never followed through on, and have usually feared issuing. It's not my style, but I think I have an argument for this. Sure, issuing an ultimatum may get me what I want, but is it really worth it? I feel so drained from approximately 4 years of serious dating that I'm not sure any work is worth it. I'm aware that they say it's not easy, and that it will take a lot of work when that true love comes along, but I think I have a different opinion. Will work really feel like work, or when it's right will the "work" just come along naturally.

Since the two times I've been in love have caused me pain, angst, immense anxiety, stress, and sadness..

I have this idea, that true love might be easy, and it will feel like the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

That's just my wish.

Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Let me say that I was born with a preternatural sense of suspicion. I'm just now realizing that I have been instinctively protecting myself for years with no apparent starting point to it all. My therapist asked me once if I could recall a specific traumatic or life-changing event from my childhood or adolescence. I failed to mention anything because my childhood was made of barefoot summers and runny ice cream cones, the stuff kids are made of, perfection.

This is me, cheating an entry.

A playlist; I'll give you one guess. Song by song, songs that I felt said it all at various points. Some then, some now. Being vague is my specialty.

1. Evening Kitchen by Band of Horses - And if you're ever left with any doubt, what you live with and what you'll do without, I'm only sorry that it took so long to figure out.

And might I add, (by stringing together lyrics from two other songs just to get a message across) it's ok because : I know you tried, I know you're cursed, I know your best was still your worst.

Oh, and lastly, don't think twice, it's all right.