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My 100hookup blogging is coming to an end now. But will I go softly into that good night? Not a chance! Instead, I’ve prepared my girlfriend resume for my final post, and am submitting it below for your consideration. Please pass this on to anyone in NYC who would lives fewer than two MTA transfers away from the NQ line, who might be interested in taking me on for a trial basis and thank you 100hookup for allowing me to share my thoughts so widely this past year.

Sentence Finishing

• I’ve a proven track record in saving men’s breath. Since the time I could speak in 1984, I have taken the initiative of finishing the sentences of those around me, particularly those with whom I am romantically involved. If and when a man needs his sentence finished, I am always at the ready.

Conflict Resolution

• Received mandatory middle school conflict resolution training in 1994. I now begin all accusatory sentences with the innocuous “I believe…”.
• Conducted negotiations with a shady dentist in this calendar year, saving my checking account $150.

Motherhood Outlook

• Possessed child bearing hips since 1993.
• Biological clock ticks at pace appropriate for my age rage and socioeconomic status.
• Children I raise will be well equipped to excel on the verbal portion of the SAT.

Parent Meet-ability

• I have charmed the socks off of the parents and families of romantic partners since I first held a boy’s hand in 2000. Notable accomplishments of the past five years include:
  • Discussing politics whilst playing Scrabble with a Catholic mother until the cows literally came home, Minnesota 2007.
  • Making commentary in a modern art museum that won the approval of an extraordinarily sardonic rabbinical student father, Chicago 2009.
  • Turning the frown briefly upside down on a drug addled misanthropic little brother, upstate NY, 2011.

Other skills include the ability to cook, a not general unwillingness to clean, proficiency in Microsoft PowerPoint, and a vanity sufficient to ensure I will never get fat. I also do Bar Mitzvahs.

I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me, or the world, but my motivation to be an active first-dater has waned. Maybe it’s because I’ve already gone on a first date with every eligible bachelor in a 10-mile radius, or maybe it’s because I need a break from getting dolled up for a person I’ve never met before. Or maybe it’s just due to my friend that I have referred to before. Whatever it is, this phenomenon occurs at a time when I am simultaneously feeling less than social in general. Sitting around in holey t-shirts, without make up in the park reading a good book, sounds like an all-too-delightful alternative to waiting on a subway platform indefinitely in heels that hurt.

I know for a fact that this is just a phase, as I am always going through phases. Next week I will be singing a different tune, and it will probably be “You Better Shop Around.” My mama told me, you can’t shop around if you don’t go to the store.

In addition to being a failure at dating and relationship-tending, I am a lover of offering my advice on the subject. I was excited to learn that both my new roommates find the topic worthy of semi-frequent discourse, and tolerate my endearing habit of peppering their tales of woe and whoa and whatever with my unsolicited two cents.

As such, here I will share the juiciest tidbits of this little nook of the planet’s romantic life:

One of my roommates recently endured the suggestion from her online date to meet at a bakery at drink/dinner o’clock on a Friday night. I learned from her a brilliant first date maneuver: Arrange plans with friends for later in the evening for an easy bail out method should things get boring or awkward.

As for my other roommate, she finds herself currently without technique, after a brief six-year hiatus from the dating scene. Suddenly single, she will need to rediscover the joys of being alone, of which there are many. She listened as I sung the praises of life without a boyfriend. Her mildly skeptical countenance returned when she read a text message from her little sister bearing a similar line of thought: “Being single rox!!!!”

Over the past few months, I have been in communications of a romantic nature with a gentleman from my past. We have derived no implications from this contact and have imposed no terms on one another. Considering our present geography, which would make a functional relationship untenable, this is for the best. It feels nice though to experience mutual positive feelings again for a male person, with no scorn or apathy present. So positive and mutual are these feelings, I have gone so far as to inform my mother of the existence of this renewed contact.

Discussing any previous boyfriend figure with my mom in a present-tense manner, though, can be touchy. Not only is the assumption that if something ended once, there was likely good reason for it, she also has a terrific detailed memory of every displeasing action every person I have dated took against me. Her memory did not spare the gentleman in question. Luckily, I am a media professional, with the skill to highlight the humanity of the most brutal of neighborhood cat killers.  This male more-than-friend of mine is not exactly a cat killer, so the conversation was simple and easy, and the conclusion from my mother was that he sounds “very nice.”

This week I am going to Mexico with my family. I am sort of hoping for a Dirty Dancing moment. If you are not following me, this means I will be Baby, and a hot salsa instructor will be a hot salsa instructor, and we will fall in love under the Mexican sun, only to part ways at the end of the week with a heart-rending finale. This fantasy couldn’t be more far fetched. What is actually going to happen, is I will return to the Estados Unidos a burned and bloated version of myself, after having capitalized on the all-inclusive nature of the resort, which offers both proximity to the equator and proximity to buffet tables. Also, I will have no new salsa skills, except those involving the consumption of the food product of the same name.

While the nation celebrates her independence, so too do I. Not that I am happy to be single exactly, just happy that I don’t mind it so much. It’s nice to not stress about finding a boyfriend or girlfriend and I recommend the attitude to anyone who will listen.

While I did not experience any fireworks of the metaphorical variety, (did I make this joke last year at this time?) a goal-oriented dater would consider my day productive because I made some new friends, which is something dating experts offer as a solution for making more than just friends. 

My apartment was robbed for the second time this year, leaving me distracted from online searches involving dates, and instead focused on online searches involving apartments. Goodbye Bushwick.

Neither online search though comes easy when you’re out a laptop. Sad state of affairs for a perpetually single woman. I’m sure if these burglars knew that they severely hindered my dating life, they would have reconsidered the entire heist. Perhaps I’ll attach a sticky to my next laptop with the following note: “This computer belongs to a very important 100hookupr® whose romantic success depends largely on her continued Internet access.”

How could even the most desperate crackhead not be moved by such an honest appeal?

Incidentally, my best friend thinks my move to Astoria or Park Slope will yield favorable outcomes in our romantic affairs. She believes that migrating our happy hours to Astoria or Park Slope will put us in touch with the nicer, more down to earth guys she claims reside in these locations. Certainly nicer than burglars, and perhaps nicer than those loft-dwelling artist/djs who keep bedbugs as roommates. I’ll let you know July 1st if there is veracty in this assertion.

Because my local repertoire of men to out with is scant this week, and an ex will be in town, he will be attending a wedding with me as my date this weekend. I reached out to his girlfriend, a friend as well, to put aside any concerns that I’ve an interest in anything beyond a platonic good time with her domestic partner. I’m so happy to report the complete veracity of my assertion. Whereas in the past I could made a hobby of revisiting past feelings at the slightest circumstantial provocation, such as the consumption of one drink, I’ve grown tired of cyclical thought in my late 20s. She, for her part, is permissive, allowing him to consume quality finger food in my presence, many hundreds of miles from their home.

While having a date is not necessary, as this is not a high school reunion or anything, I enjoy having a sidekick, especially one savvy enough to know to mingle elsewhere should a candidate for my own future matrimonial celebration present himself at the reception.

My Indian coworker complains that her dating inbox is full of notes from hookup men. She is looking for someone a little more…Indian. Likewise I bemusedly find myself a hot commodity amongst Indians while going about my daily life.

I could venture to pose many psychological theories for this cross cultural phenomenon. Mainly regarding a male need to displease that special lady who carried them for nine months inside their bodies, then continued for nine years to carry them outside their bodies. But I am not trained in that sort of thing, and don’t want to come across as a know it all.

This weekend I hosted an ex, along with the members of his band who were in town to perform. He and I have remained close since the break up, so I readily agreed to provide the trio housing. Because the root cause of our relationship’s demise was geography, the visit was strange and emotional, and the inevitable departure only bitter and not sweet.  The weekend was full of hand holding and smiles and picnic lunched catered by our favorite bodega and nostalgia. 

Sigh. I am incapable of even attempting a long-distance relationship of the legitimate and exclusive variety. Even with someone I love. Thus, I remain ready to mingle.