A Girl Has Got to Ask Herself: A Part of the Plan or My Mistake?

aren't you excited?

So, we meet again. It's been a long long time. My fault, I'll admit it. But here I am again. Trying to make amends. I hope you out there in the blogosphere still care.

I've spent the last few months studying about war and peace, religious violence (or the myth of it) and hanging out with ex-IRA/ UVF members (eat that up NSA). My thoughts have been tangled in world affairs of the most sordid kind and I've been far too moody about things nobody else cares much for to write for my blog.

But now I'm home from Northern Ireland, living at my parents house like the adult-failure that I am, and forced to undergo listening to dating and marriage advice from well-intentioned relatives. Life is smashing!

My grandmother likes to try and get me to call up ex-boyfriends to see if they'll forgive me. Most of them are married, because I'm better at marrying off guys than a Jewish matchmaker. Even if they weren't I'm far too proud and self-righteous to ever actually call up a guy from the past. I assume they are in the past for a reason.

This past weekend I had the amazing opportunity of being the only person of my generation to show up at my maternal grandmother's family reunion. The fact that I look about 16-years old mixed with my perma-scowl has helped fend off the question of "so, are you getting serious with anyone?" in the past. But, after three hours stuck under a pavilion during a rainstorm there was only so much I could do to avoid my grandma's six sisters, their 27 daughters and 42 granddaughters. (To all my first cousins on my mother's side: Thanks for nothing.)

Those women have powers, powers of persuasion and confusion. They all got me thinking. I blame the bouncing babies and blond hair flipping about for the trance-like state of mind I left in.

I'm a terrible dater. I'm selfish, thoughtless and distant. I've come to the conclusion that dating is the worst possible alternative to boredom we as a species have come up with. Worse even than watching Teen Mom.

I've always had a strong policy against settling. I've sworn up and down and all over town that I will not be the girl that "settles" for Mr. Right-Now. Is it so wrong to actually want to be more excited about the guy than the potential wedding? To not want to see a man as a means to an end? But the more I live, the more I date and the more of my friends who file off into matrimony the more I doubt that not settling is even an option.

Maybe it'd be best to just let my mom pick a guy for me. Lord knows I'm a terrible judge of what's good for me.

My problem is that timing is always off. I'm not an easy win. I take some serious convincing for the most part. Guys are never on the same page as me, ever. And I'm tired of the awkward, "sorry, I'm just not feeling this" to his proclamation of affection. And I'm also tired of getting the freeze out from the guys I so mistakenly decide to actually be interested in.

Now, here I am 26, living at my parents' house, with nothing better to do with my weekends than family reunions. A girl has got to ask herself: is this all a part of the "plan" or have I made some serious mistakes?