how would i look in a habit?

A few months ago on Oprah, Lisa Ling headed to Detroit to spend a day in a convent with a bunch of nuns. By the end of the program, I couldn’t help but ask myself if maybe Jesus really is the only nice, respectful, available man out there for us.

As I begin to approach thirty, I can’t help but reflect back on my limited dating life. In elementary school I was quite the dating pro, going from boyfriend to boyfriend – even landing myself a kiss on the cheek from my favorite kindergarten guy at my sixth birthday party. As we got to middle school, “going out” was all the rage, all resulting in never actually going anywhere. After tying up the phone for hours each night, my parents finally broke down and I got my own phone line. I even had one of those clear plastic phones that would light up when it would ring. I was officially cool.
High school came and went and I didn’t date much. I would occasionally find myself with a boyfriend (a term I would use loosely here) but it really only involved us meeting by my locker at break and exchanging notes or me doodling “I love SOS” on the top of my folders. Most of my love affairs were from afar. I would focus all my attention on one guy and I would remain loyal to them, regardless if we were dating or not. This has been a very hard habit to break.
My college dating life was… interesting. But I did date. I had a few short and failed relationships and one long term relationship. But looking back, I was so overcome with my own insecurities any relationship actually succeeding really was next to impossible. But then again, aren’t we all insecure in college?

In December of 2006, I moved to New York City and visions of glorious dates and perfect boyfriends danced through my head. I knew this city would open up so many doors for dating I would be overcome with options. I would be beating men off with a bat. I would live on Park Avenue, spend my days in Manolo Blahnik’s with Mr. Big on my arm and a smile on my face. Needless to say, I was lied to.
One evening while at a swanky martini bar, I met a very good looking attorney in a suit who lived on the upper west side. We chatted, we danced, we laughed. I had a nice time. Then, in the middle of our nice, slightly intoxicated conversation he literally screams at me, “I want to fuck you senseless”. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so I got up from my seat, gathered my things and left the bar. He proceeded to try and follow me home.
A few months later at a friend’s dinner party, I met a very charming British man. After a bit of hesitation, I gave him my number and we went out a few times. Things seemed to be going well and we made plans for the coming weekend. I never heard from him again. I pretend he died.
I met another lovely gentleman through a friend and a very strong connection developed between us that went from zero to sixty in a two week period. One morning he told me he was going to check the meter on his car and never came back. A part of me wonders if he’s still wandering the streets of Astoria trying to find his way back to my apartment.
Then a big relationship came with the closest thing I ever found to my Mr. Big. He was tall, Italian, loud and extremely cold and emotionally unavailable. I was completely in love. Finally after two years, I decided to tell him this. And he finally decides to tell me he can’t offer me anything. And the only way I could get away from him was to move across the country.

So, as I write this blog from my parents basement, I realize I went from one extreme to another. In New York, I was a bit of a prude. I was considered shy and maybe even slightly moderate in my political views. In New York, people don’t give a shit if you’re bisexual, transgender or a dragqueen. And I like it that way. But here, in the land of conservatives, I’m a raging liberal, over confident and maybe even a bit of a hussy. Everything from my politics to my favorite television shows are thought to be ridiculous. I was even told on my most recent date that “any woman who watches Sex and the City is flippant and retarded”. What?

So, what ARE my options? I suppose I can keep hoping that maybe somewhere down here in the south there's a single liberal looking for love. Or I could give the convent a call. I'm sure they have an extra bed for this single girl.