36 and single.....one word. Fuck!

And I wish I could be a little bit more eloquent than, "fuck" but truly, there are no words to describe the sheer magnitude for 36 and single. And not only single but single for the first time in literally, it's been so long I cannot recall the last time I was alone. And if we're being honest, I'm not even sure I have EVER been truly single except for that time when I was 9 and really concentrating on the 4th grade. And even if I COULD remember being single, the only thing that remains the same from way back when are my fingerprints.

To even think that perhaps one day in the very far off future there might be a day when I toy with the possibility of the idea that dating could potentially be an option that I could be interested in, breeds nothing but anxiety and fear. Can a douche bag smell fear like a shark smells blood? Where is the chainmail, cage and spear gun when a girl needs em?

The woman I have become is only a slight iteration of the girl I used to be. The rules that I SORT of remember about dating might as well have been penned with quill and ink on parchment paper. Boys are now technically men and I am in my sexual prime.

Jesus Christ....we are in trouble!