Monday Morning Rant: If Somebody Asks Me Why I’m Not Dating Anyone One More Damn Time!

August 5, 2013  |  

It was Saturday night and I was running into a restaurant, rushing to meet a friworker (friend/coworker) for dinner. I was about 20 minutes late for our 8pm dinner date, so as I sat down I began immediately apologizing for my tardiness and explaining the weekend MTA struggle and how I had to take a gypsy cab and why I was now sweating and subsequently out of breath and most definitely in need of a drink. Unbothered, my dinner companion took one look at me carrying on and calmly said “It’s OK.” And then after a long pause, for emphasis I suppose, she asked, “when are you going to start dating?” with one of those sheepish grins people have on their faces when they’re telling you some sort of juicy secret.


I’m pretty sure that was the question my face relayed in response to hers as I tried to figure out the correlation between no local trains running between 145th and 59th Columbus Circle and my love life. Perhaps, had I said I was late because I was just getting it in, my excuse would have been more than “OK,” but nevertheless my reasoning was what it was and my response to that random question was, “if one more person asks me that question again within the next 24 hours…”

Unfortunately, I had nothing to add after that declaration because I never really have an explanation for my single status other than “I don’t know.” Much more rude things come to mind like, why the f%&! do you care, but I choose to keep those ponderings for my inside thoughts, wishing people who decide to randomly launch federal investigations into my personal life would do the same. As of today at 10:00 am that has yet to happen.

See, for some reason, I’ve been vetting some form of that question all weekend. I’ll take responsibility for inviting it in some way when I asked another coworker at happy hour how her date went a couple of weeks ago. Though I only asked because she’d volunteered that info previously, I was fully aware that her follow-up, after telling me about her own date, would likely be a question about whether I was dating anyone. I was sort of right, but instead of asking me that exactly, the inquiry was, “have you ever tried online dating?”

The f&$!?

That’s what I said in my mind. Verbally, I responded “OK, I’m done with you,” as I explained my dislike for all things eHarmony, Match, and That’s when the peanut gallery decided to jump in with their positive affirmations: “No, you should do it!” “Oh my God, you’re so gorgeous.” “My friend who saw you the other day couldn’t believe how pretty you are.” “You should have a man like that!”

Alright people. I love a shameless compliment as much as the next woman, but when it’s positioned against the backdrop of let’s help this girl not be, I don’t have time for that. Things only got worse as the drinks kept pouring and the male coworkers, you know the ones you only chat up at company happy hours, hit me with the “why are you single, you’re so great” runarounds. All I could think was, “please don’t Laz Alonso me,” as I replayed that scene in the beginning of “Just Wright” when he laid out all the things that made Queen Latifah a great woman after their first date and proceeded to say he didn’t want to go on a second one. Furthermore, I was like damn, I know I didn’t wear makeup to work today, and my shoes are a little busted, but do I have a sign on me somewhere that reads “desperate for the D?”

People’s obsession with semi-stranger’s love lives has always been confusing to me, particularly because I always feel like if I’m not talking about it, why are you? Sometimes I wonder if people are trying to reconcile assumptions they have in their heads that every single woman in the world is one knife sharpening away from slitting her wrist and wondering why you don’t seem to fit that bill. I’ve never been that invested in what’s going on in anyone else’s bedroom, and my general rule is, unless you have someone in mind who they should date, shut the eff up! Or, if they’re not coming to you for advice on how to no longer be single, don’t volunteer any, assuming their relationship status is a problem.

I’m lowkey starting to feel like homosexuals who complain that people want them to publicly come out the closet. Like, was I supposed to send out an email and let everyone know, “hey, just in case you’re wondering, I’m single right now, but it’s OK. I’m not a danger to myself or anyone else. I’ll get through this.”? Or maybe I should give them the answers to the questions they’re really asking and say I’m not dating anyone because I’m bat ish crazy, a touch bitter, have a case of angry black woman syndrome, and I cry myself to sleep every night asking myself the same question, while stroking my fluffy cat who’s now become my surrogate man.

Hey, that actually might stop these people from talking to me altogether….hmmmm. Sounds like a win-win.

What’s your best comeback for people who continuously ask why you’re single?




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