“You may feel alone when you’re falling asleep
And every time tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you’ve yet to meet
Someday you will be loved.”

Oh Death Cab, you couldn’t have described my pathetic love life any better than that.

Today I was having a conversation with my friend “Yenta” (because that’s what she is — and I say that out of affection!) about my man frustration. As in, I can’t find a man and I’m frustrated. Sometimes I can play it off as if I don’t care, but if the truth can come out now, I’ll just say it. Being single sucks. I hate it. And as much as I hate it, I haven’t been able to do much to get myself out of this situation.

People tell me I’m picky. Which I may well be. If I wanted to, I could have been married a few times by now. But there was always something wrong. I attract a lot of crazy men. I’m not going to get into my dating history, because it’s pretty short and pathetic. Nor am I going to go into the litany of weirdos I didn’t date, but who wanted to date me, because while that’s a longer list, it’s no less pathetic.

The last time I was not attracted to a guy who liked me, I cried. You’d think it might have been a compassionate sort of thing — perhaps feeling bad because I hurt the guy. You would be wrong. I cried because it always seems to happen this way. It was a total pity party for myself.

So, I’ve decided to do something I swore I’d never do again. I joined a dating site. A long time ago I joined one, and out of all the men I was matched with, most closed out the match once they saw my picture. If that’s not a blow to the ego, I don’t know what is. Some guy, presumably sitting around in his boxers and making no effort at being attractive, decides I’m not pretty enough to date. Because they’re expecting me to be a drop-dead gorgeous supermodel. Sorry to break it to you all, but I’m not.

Earth to jerky guys... The chances of finding a supermodel on a dating website are slim to none. Like the best apartments on craigslist or non-hideous clothing at a thrift store, most supermodels get snapped up before you even knew they were available. That’s just the way it is.

Of the many guys I was matched with, only two hung in with me long enough to even chat on the phone. One was a psycho who told me he had been shot at by his “enemies”. What a winner! The other guy kinda wimped out hours before we were supposed to meet up. He was from Ohio, so the meet-up was to be hours and hours from my home in Long Island. And at the last minute he decided he couldn’t do it. He let me down by saying his grandmother had a stroke. Nice.

I don’t know why I decided to subject myself to this kind of insanity again. Perhaps because there is a whole different crop of crazies out there now, and who knows, maybe there’s a guy who’s the right kind of crazy for me. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m going to marry a weirdo one day. But if he’s a weirdo I can put up with, I can’t ask for more at this point. Despite the fact that I’ve had friends get dates and meet their husbands through these dating services, I’m still not convinced about this whole online thing, thanks to my horrible past experiences. I’m still thinking I just wasted a bunch of money. Who knows… We’ll wait and see, I guess.