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As you can imagine, over the holidays the subject of my singleness came up in conversation quite a bit. There are lots of reasons for this:

      • I am, in fact, single.
      • I am the only single person left in my immediate family. (Translation: The boring married folks like to live vicariously through my super exciting, on-the-edge, adventurous bachelorette lifestyle.)
      • I happen to write quite often about my singleness on this here blog, so perhaps I bring it upon myself.

No matter the reason, the subject came up quite a bit. And it always seemed to turn to trying to find me a man. Family members and friends frantically searched their mental Rolodexes, rattling off names of single men that might, just might be a possible mate for yours truly. Those names, however, were quickly followed by statements like:

“… but he’s got major commitment issues.”

“… but he’s 38 and lives in his parents’ basement.”

“… but he just got divorced. Like last month.”

“… but one of his eyes is significantly larger than the other. Only if you really look into his eyes, though.”

“… but he is really socially awkward. I’ve never actually heard him speak.”

“… but I’m pretty sure he’s unemployed. I’ve heard he’s collecting unemployment, though, so that’s good!”

And after a few laughs (and several secret tears on my part), we all sigh, look at each other, and I inevitably hear the following statement:

“We just don’t know anyone good enough for you.”

Now wait up just a minute. Hold your horses. Stop right there.

Who on earth started this ridiculous rumor / lie / joke that I’m such a good person? Am I riding in on some white horse that I just don’t know about? Am I standing on a pedestal as I type this blog? No. Both of those things would be impressive, actually. My athleticism and coordination aren’t top notch, so I like to dream of a day when I can practice some fancy equestrianism or hold my balance on the beach like a young Daniel Larusso. Alas, I digress. Back to the rumor at hand.

Newsflash: I’m not perfect!

Angel Devil

Just reading a few posts on this blog shows you just how imperfect I am. So I’ll spare my confidence and your time by not listing all my faults here today. In summary, they run the gamut from pride to judgment to selfishness — a real impressive bag of things I work daily to get rid of. My shoulders are wrought with miniature angels and devils, constantly fighting for my attention. It’s a constant battle — one that I know we all deal with.

Because let’s get real: None of you (or any of my family members or friends) actually think I’m perfect. That’s a ridiculous notion because, as we all know, no one is perfect. We’re all full of dirty things, bad moments, lapses in judgment. We’re all flawed. We’re all human.

Why, then, do the people in my inner circle allude to my supposed goodness whenever they can’t find a single man for me to date? Why is that the go-to excuse?

I can only assume it’s to make me feel better. And for a millisecond, it actually does.

“Oh, the reason you don’t know any single men to hook me up with is because I’m so amazing and all those single men are losers? And I deserve so much better? Why… thank you!”

But then, quicker than you can say “I’m old and alone,” I realize it’s all just a buffer. The truth is my friends may sincerely not know any solid men to introduce to me. They may not be brave enough to reach out to acquaintances they haven’t touched base with in a while. They may just not want to be bothered with another task to add to their to-do list. Whatever the reason, they’re left staring into my lonely, green eyes, and in that moment they need to think of something to say to buffer the silence.

“We just don’t know anyone good enough for you.”

And it’s okay. I’m not mad at my family and friends for not hooking me up. Would I love to be introduced to a great guy? Yes. Do I think a great way to meet someone is by being matched through mutual friends? Absolutely. Do I appreciate them even trying to rack their brains to think of who they might know that might be good for me? With all my heart.

But that particular excuse just seems like a cop out. It puts me in an unrealistic, unattainable category. And it’s time to open up my chances a bit by focusing on my imperfections instead.

Because if I’m not perfect, then I just might be a great match for that guy who lives in his parents’ basement. Or that man with two different shaped eyeballs. Or the one who hasn’t spoken to another human being in three years.

You see? When we’re honest with ourselves and honest with each other, love blooms. And for this flawed human being, this vast field of dating might just be ripe for the picking.