Happy 2011, kids! It has been a veeerrrry long time since I graced my darling followers with a blog post, so your reward will be a series. That’s right, I’m dating again, if by dating you mean engaging in various embarrassing activities in the hopes of meeting a man I might like to take on vacation. I’ve been cool and single for years, and voluntarily celibate to boot, but I’ve realized that I’d like to find a mate, a man that I enjoy being with as much as I enjoy being with myself. A tall order for anyone, I know. But add to that the discomfort I feel about letting someone into my life, telling them “Hey, I have bipolar and, by the way, I’m not gonna have kids so don’t worry about heredity.” Yeah.
The good news is, I’ve engaged in all manner of therapy and self-scrutiny over the past few years so I know what I want when I see it, and I’m getting pretty good at identifying and ditching losers. The bad news is, I still don’t know where to meet men. Basically, in 2011, I’m up for anything. I vowed to “get out more” in 2011, so maybe “out” includes places where men may congregate. If not, I’m still not gonna be sitting on the sofa every Saturday night watching bad movies with my roommate who hasn’t had sex since Clinton was in office.
As I embark on yon romantic journey, I shall also chronicle the humor and humiliation involved in the pursuit of love and romance in latter-day New York City. Expect self-pity, intense analysis, and the sarcastic wit for which you’ve pledged me your undying fandom. If any Twitter or blog followers want to throw a hat into the ring as a potential suitor, I’ll entertain all comers. And I mean that in the most G-Rated way possible.