who needs poopy boys anyway?

The title of this post is a direct quote from a dear friend in response to an email I sent today.  I don't intend this as a single woman's rant about men. I rarely fill this blog with "whoa is me" diatribes. I suppose I am hoping that some emotional vomiting will somehow fix things. 

There are days, weeks and even months when I feel as though I have everything together. I'm confident, strong and fiercely independent. Then out of nowhere, it quickly comes crashing down around me. So it's not really about "poop"-y boys. It's my own frustration at how easy it is to decorate my room with streamers and balloons for my personal pity party. At the pity party my cynicism of single males takes flight. I can berate all the single men I know, the ones I don't, the ones dating my friends or not dating my friends, and all imaginary 20-30 something men. I categorize them in to commitment-phobes and full of issues that none of my friends or I could ever possibly struggle with. And yet, stereotypes and generalizations are a pet peeve of mine. 

So, I look at my decorated room and know deep in my heart that I have to take them down but I don't want to... because this is my party and I'll cry if I want to. This party is a waste of time and never enjoyable. It's like those parties you go to where you look at your watch, wondering when you can leave without looking rude. You cringe as each minute ticks by, knowing it is sucking another minute of your precious life. You start to think that waterboarding would be more fun than this party. You plan your escape and take a deep breath as you leave the festivities. Gratitude flows through you because you are free. You vow never to get sucked in to one of those things again and kick yourself that you got bamboozled in to yet another crappy party. 

Soon this party will end. I'm just looking for my escape route.