Hello! Yeah, so, this is happening. It’s like really happening. I know, I know, I can’t believe it either. Please calm the fuck down, stop screaming, have a seat, take a deep breath, and please continuing reading.
It’s been a while. Or as we say in the hood, “it’s been a minute” since I’ve last written a blog. About two years. Two fucking years since I’ve written anything.
And you’re probably asking yourself, “But why are you writing a new blog Steven? Why now?”
First of all, fuck you. You know exactly why I’m writing a new blog again. Don’t be coy. What, you just want me to come out and say it? Fine, here it is:
I’m getting MARRIED!!!!
Nooooooo, just kidding. Actually quite the opposite. Unfortunately or fortunately I’m single again, which is bad for my sex life, but good for your blog reading pleasure. You selfish son of bitch. I mean, if blogs are still a thing? It’s the year 2013. Do people still read a guy they’ve never heard of’s narcissistic writing about his pathetic dating experiences? Apparently they do, or at least you, because you’re reading this right now. So jokes on you clown. Wow, I just realized I swear at you and talk down to you a lot. I’m sorry. Well I’m sorry, that I’m not sorry. It’s the internet, it does it to me. It really does. During the day in “real life”, I’m Professional Pete, no swearing, well spoken, articulate, and correctly uses punctuation. But then BOOM, it’s blog time, and all of sudden it’s like COCK BALLS FUCK SHIT, and I use a commas incorrectly, like, every, single, fucking, word to create dramatic pauses and so you can read the words as they sound as I word vomit them out of my head through my fingers into the keyboard. There is no delete, no backspace, it’s just stream of conscious and sometimes I don’t even care when I see the little red line under words indicating I’ve spelled a word worng (get it?). But I digress. Focus.
Anyways. It’s true, after 2 years of relationship world, I’m single again. I’m not going to talk about my last relationship in this post, or ever for that matter, but the long and short of it is that it was great relationship that ended amicably. I know that sounds like a super cop out answer, but believe it or not, I don’t like to talk about personal stuff in blog? So fuck your couch. Those of you that know me in real life know the scoop and that’s good enough for me.
So, in summary, I’m single again, I’m two years older, and I’m blogging again. I actually didn’t know if I was going to blog again as Single Steve. I knew I wanted to write, but I wasn’t sure that “Single Steve” was the right brand for me now. I mean, I went back and read some of my blogs, and I thought to myself, man that guys an immature asshole…sometimes. He used to get kicked out of Moondoggies on the regular. What twenty something year old with a good job, and some self respect, does that? I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to continue writing as Single Steve. I was considering more “mature” options. But after talking with a friend, and she asked me “what the goal of the blog was?”, I had to think. What the fuck is the point of this blog?? It’s not to get rich, it’s not to get famous, it’s not to meet girls. I like writing this blog for entertainment purposes. I write because I LOVE the comments and knowing I made someone laugh somewhere at my ridiculousness. So that’s why I write. Also I write to meet girls. And so ultimately I decided to stick with the same blog. It’s just for shits and giggles. It’s got some fans on facebook, and being an internet narcissist, I couldn’t bare to start all over with zero.
Shall we begin?
Here I am. 30 years old. Single. Living in San Diego. Still awesome. Trying to figure out what the fuck to do now. Do I jump back on the okcupid and match.com’s of the world? Do I Tinder? Do I send mass Snapchats of penis to random girls? Do I do some other new technology shit I don’t know about yet? This is where YOU come in. I need your inputs. What should I do? Leave me some suggestions in the comments. I’ve already been Tindering, hard, like it’s my job. My first blog(s) are going to be about Tinder, about the ridiculousness of it, the ridiculousness of the girls on it, and a date that should of happened but Tinder doesn’t have fucking height anywhere on it’s app. I’ve got blogs in the queue, but what else should do? I mean at this point, I’m willing, to as the kids say, “YOLO”. Meaning I’m 30, and holy shit I need to get married soon, my eggs are drying up.
Speaking of, I’m 30. 30. It’s mind bottling to think about that. I never, ever would of thought I would be 30 and single. Not that it’s a bad thing. I have no regrets, I like where I am, yada yada, all the stuff I’m supposed to say to show I’m happy with my life, but when I first started blogging like 6 years ago, I joked, “hahahaha” I’m never going to find my person. Because it’s fucking funny and ridiculous for a 24 year old to joke about being alone forever. But 6 years later, as a 30 year old joking about being alone forever , it’s like a little more real, you know. I mean we can all still laugh about it, but it’s the kind of laugh where it’s like your fake laughing, with your teeth gritted and your eyes are shifting back and forth to see if people are actually believing you in your laugh. Yeah, that kind of laugh.
I know, I know, “But Steven, 30 is still young, you have plenty of time to find somebody” – you in a very adult condescending voice. Watch your tone when you’re talking to me. I know. I get it. But I also want to get married, and have kids before I’m “too old”. I don’t know what “too old” is, but it’s has something to do with playing catch with my kid in my back yard.
I also start having a mild panic attack when I start thinking about math. Not like my vector calculus back in the day math, but math in the sense that I know my pool of available awesome single women to mate with is shrinking. It’s is. Every day. It’s math. They either die, or get married, every, single, fucking day. And sure some girls re-enter the dating pool, as a few of them get out of their relationships or divorcees, but I’m still willing to bet that the rate in which they women leave my available dating pool is higher than the rate in which women are entering. Did I lose you? Look, here’s a graph.
It basically shows what percentage of women are single based on a bucket of age ranges. You can see that most of the world’s single population is between the ages of 18 and 24, with 40%. My age range, the 25 to 34 year olds is 25% of the population. Meaning out of every 4 girls I see, only 1 of them is likely to be single . And you know that’s always the ugly friend, that they keep around to boost their self confidence. JUST kidding. Geez. Calm down. But seriously, 1 in 4. And you can see if I survive to be 35 years old the pool of single women drops even smaller. I’m just saying, MATH. I know a lot of you will be Optimistic Olga, and say things like “there are plenty of fish in the sea Steven”. I know there are. I’m just saying, there are more fish being pulled out and eaten then are repopulating the fucking sea.
On that note, I have another panic attack when I start thinking about the quality of fish still left in the sea. When I think about it logically, it makes sense that “a lot” of the amazing, funny, caring, cute, sarcastic, great kisser, great dancer women have already been fished out and eaten. I mean, why wouldn’t they be. If you are guy and you met an amazing person, you’re going to try and wife the shit out of her. As you should. So, logically, I get to thinking, who’s left? And why are they left? The dating pool has changed dramatically. Here’s how I see it:
Again, this is my exaggerated perception. My phoebia is crazy cat ladies, single moms and divorcees. Not that there’s anything wrong with having kids, or being married before, but it’s a “thing” to consider, and those aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. I know I’m going to get hate comments and hate email, saying something like “Dear Steven, I’m 38 and single, and there’s nothing wrong with me”. To which I will reply that you are dirty rotten liar and are probably bat shit crazy. Okay, I agree. There are circumstances in which you could potentially be older and single, and absolutely amazing. But realistically, there is probably a reason. Whether it’s “I’ve only dated douche bags, or I’m a crazy jealous bitch.” Myself included in this group. I have a reason, we all have a reason. Just make sure your reason is a long hard look at yourself. I do. Just saying. Again, I look forward to your hate comments.
Last thought of the blog. I call this, Cat Challenge 2023. One because it involves cats, and ends in the year 2023 makes it sound like a futuristic science project. So here it is:
For every year that I’m single, I’m going to take a step closer to being the crazy cat lady and buy a cat. I don’t even like cats, so it’s a motivator to make sure I stop being single. So when I’m 31, I’ll have one cat, when I’m 32, I’ll have 2 and so on and so on. But then I got to thinking, this will be my motivator, but at the same time is also is decreasing my dateability, because who wants to date a guy with 7 cats.
Assuming my datability is a 10 (relative scale) right now, you can see based on the graph below quickly how my dateability becomes almost nothing quickly. I think it’s at about cat number 4, that girls no longer acknowledge me as a member of functioning society. Cat Challenege 2023!!