Why are you STILL single?
As if there is something wrong with me. As if there is something wrong with being single. Don’t you think that if I knew the pinpointed reason why I’m not cruising on the path toward marriage with a precious gem of a guy who likes to rub my feet underneath a blanket in Central Park on Sunday afternoon, I’d acknowledge it? I’d do something grand to fix it?
Maybe it’s because I eat with my fingers or talk about Obamacare on the first date.
Maybe it’s because the messages I receive on JDate all say something mildly absurd like: If you can talk as good as you look, we are a done deal—babe.”
You’re almost begging me to act all obnoxiously unbecoming and in distasteful amusement answer you with some ditzy remark like: Oh my gosh, I don’t know! The world must be conspiring against…
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