I Act Like I Don’t Care, But Deep Down It Kills Me That I'm Single

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being single

I pretend I don’t want a man because I know I’ve done everything possible to get one to no avail.

I’m single — very, very single. I have a grand total of zero serious dating prospects on my list. And it’s not as if I didn’t try. I have done everything from trying to court one-night stands to losing copious amounts of weight to try to get guys to notice me.

Believe me, if there is a tactic I haven’t tried to stop being single, short of selling my soul and being someone I’m not, I’d be pretty damned shocked.  

But the fact is that my one biggest goal in life is to be a wife, and it’s really looking like that's just never going to happen. If I can’t get a person to take me on a date that doesn’t involve fast food, how the f*ck am I supposed to get them to even commit to me?

At the point where I’m at, I’d legitimately kill for someone who would pay for a fancy dinner date, give me flowers, and actually show up on time in a non-inebriated state. In a word, I decided it's better to give up than to try anymore, because it's no longer worth raising my hopes. 


For the most part, I try to act like I don’t care. I try to act like it doesn’t hurt when I see women who are clearly way less good-looking than me get more guys than I do. I try to just make snide remarks about how guys just want “basic bitches” and won’t go for the badass redhead with a heart of gold. I joke about getting a mail-order man.

And, I’ll admit, when I hear of a guy who turned me down get his heart broken by his first choice, I'm salty enough to cluck my tongue at him and tell him he deserved to get hurt because he didn't go for me.

OK, maybe people can pick up on the fact that it does bother me to a point, but most people don’t realize how much it does. Really, I do try to act like I don’t care, because if I showed how much it really bothered me, I’m pretty sure I’d be a permanent resident at the funny farm.

It kills me inside being single, it really does.


The problem is that my closest friends know how much it hurts me, and there’s a certain point where I realize I’d start pushing them away if that’s all I’d talk about.

So, I pretend I’m OK with casual sex. I pretend I’m OK seeing people who do nothing to better themselves coupled, while I really work hard on making myself a better person only to be passed up over and over again.

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I pretend I don’t want a man, just because I know I’ve done everything possible to get one to no avail. I try to admit defeat without being a sore loser. 

So, I try to bottle it up inside. I drink almost daily. I drink until I puke when I get too stressed out. I occasionally cry myself to sleep. I don’t think what I want is that much, but apparently, it is.

I don’t know what will happen to me, or how much longer before my body gives out from the sheer amount of stress I put on it. But I at least know I probably am not alone in this.

I just hope I get used to it, to being single.


So, if you’re like me struggling to find love, I’m sorry things ended up like this. While we can try to be the best version of ourselves that we can be, sometimes it's still not enough.

I just hope that we end up just legitimately not caring about it sooner rather than later. I mean, eventually that has to happen, right?