Honestly, I’ve never felt the need to be exclusively attached to a single person when I have a ton of friends at my disposal at any given time. There are so many people in my life that I love so much. How could I ever choose one single man as my favorite?
Sometimes I think that I’m just not capable of putting someone else’s needs before my own. I’m 23 years old and it is absolutely absurd to me that human beings my age are getting married and having children (on purpose) already. I see a male companionship as an unnecessary weight. I’ve seen girls fall head over heels for men who move them away from where they want to be, or make them lose track of their personal goals. Letting one person ruin all your hard work and plans for the future doesn’t seem very romantic to me at all.
Maybe my problem is that I’ve gone for some serious losers in my day. In high school and early college, I went for the boys who only wanted to smoke weed in their parents’ basements all day. Five years later, those boys have experienced a small victory in that marijuana is now legal in Colorado. Those boys are also still smoking weed with high schoolers in their parents’ basements to this day. I’ve dated multiple guys who are currently living off of their wealthy parents and have no ambition to do anything with their lives. I even went for one boy who is now serving a very long sentence in prison.
Even the non-losers I found myself interested in were just key players in phases that I needed to get out of my system. There was the ski bum, the player, the frat dude, and the “musician.” When I moved to Vegas, I stopped referring to them by their real names. At first, these men were labeled by number. Boyfriend #1 was pleasant, but he was much too emotional. Boyfriend #2 was fun; until I found out he was sleeping with one of my friends. Boyfriend #3 was a “Magic Mike” type (if you know what I mean) so he definitely wasn’t going home to meet the parents.
I started watching Sex & the City religiously after realizing that Carrie Bradshaw, the lifestyle columnist who loves her clothing, her girl friends, and her city more than any man (until the movie), is who I want to be when I “grow up.” I then began to nickname my flings after characters from the TV show. There was Aidan Shaw, who would have been perfect if I—I mean, Carrie Bradshaw didn’t have commitment issues. Then there was Jack Berger: the short-lived fling with the writer who rivaled Carrie’s talent.
In quite an entertaining effort to mimic the opening credits of Sex & the City, I went down to MGM’s CityCenter with photographer Jon L’Hommedieu to shoot some new photos for my blog. I did my best to find an outfit just like Carrie’s: a pale pink leotard with a white tutu and clutch. I got the tutu for sorority bid day of my senior year of college at a costume shop in Fort Collins where I went to school. Passers-by told me that I just looked adorable, and I felt absolutely ridiculous the whole time. I hoped that none of my friends spotted me as I hopped around the complex that I know almost all of you locals have had a rendezvous or two in.
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