More Random Status Updates from a Single Facebook Girl...

(said to her) "I will never understand why you don't have a hip hop dancin', gansta rappin', beautiful black boyfriend...."

"Was driving too fast and of course got pulled over. Thankfully rookie Cambridge cops like sport bras and yoga pants."

"Cute dog!" "Cute butt!" Perhaps she was hopped on decongestants or dehydrated from yoga but conversation ensued (him about being more forward and her new addiction to yoga), leading to a 'puppy class' at some random lady's house, dinner at Stone Hearth and now his apartment. 'Slow dancing in a burning room' is playing in the background. She has the same song on her own so-called "make-out playlist." This guy is good; pretty much the male form of herself. But really, does she want to end up making out with herself? Probably not. If this guy rounds the corner with a bottle of Cab, it's time to go.

"Dear Yard Sale Boy,
Yes, you were cute in your AE hoodie, standing on the lawn hocking goods of various crap quality, so of course I stopped when you waved me down as I walked by listening to If Only on my iPod. Your, "where did you get your yoga mat?" question did seem genuine and I entertained your conversation of what kind of yoga mat I have, where I purchased it, and how often I do yoga. But you're a smoker; standing out there in the cold, hoodie up and waving your cigarette about as you talk and charm your way into making me smile. So that's why I refused to give you my number, in fact, I said, "Sorry, I don't date smokers." But you wouldn't give up, and maybe I shouldn't have snapped, saying, "I would never put your dick in my mouth," and walked away. Maybe."

"I Like Pain"

So you find yourself on another date with, let's call "Mr. Nice Guy." He's attractive, has a good job, and seems like someone who's relatively stable to enter a relationship with. You decide to take him back into your flat, to "watch a movie" with after dinner. Everyone knows that's just another way to say, "would you like to come upstairs?"

Half way through the movie, you make your move and slide over on the bed (how convenient) to make out with him. He's surprisingly a good kisser. There's no awkwardness of where each other's head should tilt, he knows how to hold the back of your head in that perfect way, and he doesn't suck your face off like a hoover vacuum cleaner. Everything's going well, until you notice some movement going on which just "doesn't belong." Out of the corner of your eye you see him gyrating his hips, as if he's assisting some invisible woman on top of him, for the ride of her life. You immediately stop kissing, nervously laugh, and hope that this was just some weird epileptic episode he was having. And of course you don't talk about it. You were "raised right," never say anything rude to someone's face.

About twenty minutes later, "Mr. Nice Guy" decides to come over to your side of the bed. You figure, he was such a good kisser, maybe what happened was just a one time, freak thing, so why not? However, the situation now goes from bad to worse. "Mr. Nice Guy" starts making noises as if he's going to explode in his pants. You start cursing yourself for inviting him inside to "watch a movie," and begin to pull away from him. As you do so, he jumps up from the bed and shockingly, in one fast move takes his pants off, jumps back onto the bed and starts masturbating in front of you.

Your mind runs blank. Really, what are you supposed to do with a guy who you apparently don't know, on your bed, with his dick in his hand? Should you scream and hope that your flatmate comes running in, to find an already horrifying situation? Should you grab the nearest object near you and threaten to clock him with it so he leaves? Obviously, this dating "emergency" is something you were not prepared for.

As you try to think quickly of how to rid yourself of this embarrassment that's on your jersey sheets, he pushes you over onto your side. You look back to see what he's doing, and immediately regret it. He stops masturbating, licks his hand, continues, as he puts his other hand on your ass. This is when you go to try to find your "happy place."

Thankfully it doesn't take him much longer to finish. As soon as his hand leaves your ass, you get up, usher him out of your flat as soon as he's clothed and do your "walk of shame" by your flatmate who asks how your date went. Obviously you are in no mood to tell him how awesome your evening was.

As you try to figure out how you got yourself into this mess, you realize that you missed or maybe even wanted to ignore, the signs that would have prevented this horrifying, but now hilarious situation. He was a little quiet but polite when you first met him, and that last date you were on, he casually mentioned, "I like pain." Perhaps his hotness made you put your blinders on, but it's a lesson to be learned: there's no such thing as "Mr. Nice Guy."

"Possible Serial Killer," yes...

Random Status Updates from a Single Facebook Girl

Dear Ruggedly Handsome But Overly Obnoxious Hand Talker,

1. You need to calm the hell down. What are you on, crack? You were so into talking about yourself there, you spilled some of your Circus Boy on my boob.

2. Yes, I'm checking facebook while you talk to me. Just like how you were checking out that girl's ass that walked by. Of course I noticed, and I definitely noticed you realized mine was better.

3. I am not interested in "ouch ouch you're on my hair," so please go find someone else to play "just the tip" with.

Love, Me
**

Been wandering around the great outdoors with the "Doctor Doctor" "hunting." I knew it was going to be a rough day when the first thing he did was scold me for "smelling good." What, wild game don't like vanilla?
**

Visited home today to find June, my evil granny, at the dining room table. J: "Well, you look nice...but your eye makeup looks rather...smudged. Were you whoring yourself last night at a man's house?" FML.
**

Which embarrassing situation would you rather have happen to you? 1. You pass out from drinking too much while someone is going down on you or 2. As you're trying to leave someone's darkened room to go to the bathroom, you think the closet door is the room door, become lost/confused and need verbal directions to exit said room, all again due to drinking too much. Hahaha.

Introduction

We don't check the "plus one" box.

We don't order "family sized" anything.

We're seen at Starbucks with laptop and latte in hand.

Our alcohol tolerance is better than yours.

We're better texters than you are, however some of us never reply back.

We can run what seems like a marathon's length in high heels.

We hope our sex lives are better than yours.

We're the black sheep at weddings.

We are The Singles Table.