#44 Expiration Dating

We're almost a full week into April and it's now safe to say that spring is finally upon us.  Single girls know that the advent of spring is not determined by a date on the calendar reminding us of the vernal equinox, but rather when the last buzzer goes off during the final game of the NCAA men's basketball tournament.  That's when dudes stop discussing college teams from the midwest we've never heard of and start noticing us walking down the street in dresses and shorts again.

Spring has sprung, and this Single Girl is currently accepting applications for this year's spring fling(s).

The beauty of expiration dating is the pre-determined expected duration of a relationship.  (And yes, a "relationship" could spoil after two weeks like milk, or have a much longer "use-by date" like beef jerkey.)

For some of us single girls, our first experience with expiration dating occurred as adolescents at band camp or astronaut camp.  We spent one month making out in the woods every night with our camp boyfriend who promised he would keep in touch (KIT) and write, despite the hundreds of miles between us.  Guess what?  He never did.  (And unfortunately, this won't be the last time a boy will disappoint us.)

We got over it eventually by persuading ourselves it would never have worked out anyway.  Geographical undesirability can be such a bitch.  Plus we were 15 and convinced we'd be the future Mrs. Luke Perry.

Setting a "use by date" on relationships manages our expectations of dudes, allows us to quit while we're ahead and enables us to avoid "jumping the shark."  This is perfect for those guys we can't (and won't) get serious about.  Maybe he's great in bed, maybe he drives a nice car, maybe we just need him to be our escort for our sister's wedding since he's so photogenic.  (And we know how important those pictures on Facebook are.)  BUT, he could be an asshole, a borderline alcoholic or a Canadian.

Much like various grocery items, different dudes have different expiration dates.  Most of the time, this is established by the quality of the item and how well it will last past the "guaranteed fresh date."  Exacerbating factors that usually push a "use by date" closer to the "best if used before date" include sunlight, alcohol, cigarettes and general douchiness.

Contrary to urban legend, even Twinkies have a shelf life of 25 years.  And we all know products are best enjoyed well before their expiration dates. 

#33 Bed Frames

At times when single girls are nestled in our beds, visions of handcuffs and bed frames may dance in our heads...

Yes, certain bed frames can be extremely sexy, but this naughty thought is not the only reason why single girls have an affinity towards cast iron bed posts or hardwood headboards.

Firstly, as much as we like home field advantage, we understand that occassionally our schedule takes us on the road.  And when we are "traveling," we think of hotel rooms with Egyptian cotton sheets, big fluffy pillows, and a nice sturdy king-sized bed.

What single girl doesn't enjoy a good romp in a "big boy bed"? 

On the other hand, there are guys out there who have no concept of such a thing.  These are the guys with pseudo "beds": mattresses on the floor of their bedrooms, and worse, mismatched bed sheets.  If we're lucky, the mattress may be on a box spring on the floor.  The ultimate deal breaker?  A twin-sized mattress on the floor.  With mismatched bed sheets.  (I shudder to think that this actually exists.)

While some may argue that lacking a proper bed can be romantically associated with a Bohemian lifestyle, this is really more reminiscent of the boys we hooked up with in college who smoked pot all day and played video games all night.  (Or vice versa.)

Essentially, a "big boy bed" is what separates the varsity players from the junior varsity yahoos.  And single girls like varsity players.

To explain, something can be said about dudes who own furniture, specifically bed frames with matching sheet sets.  Bed frames are secure, and metaphorically speaking, it means the dude should be somewhat secure himself.  Financially, yes, of course.  But there is also a semblance of maturity, permanence, and stability to owning furniture. 

Those guys with the mattresses on the floor?  These are guys who can lead a nomadic existence and pick up and leave (us) whenever they want (after selling the mattress they probably bought on Craigslist back to someone else they find on Craigslist).  Strange bedfellows indeed.

So guys, you've made your bed.  Now you want us to lie in it?  Just remember that the best way to bed a woman is with an actual bed.

#32 Geographical Desirability

I never really understood why dudes get so ga-ga-ooh-la-la over this mythical creature that they so endearingly call "the girl next door."  Or why Taylor Swift totally resents her cutie patootie neighbor for dating a girl who wears better shoes than she does.

We big city folks don't get it.  You would think that one good thing about living in a thriving metropolis is the multitude of other young, educated, date-able peers around you.  Think about all the potentially single, attractive people you run into at Whole Foods or the gym.  Being in a big city should mean we have more options than just "the boy next door."  Right??  And single girls like options!

But the more we date, the more we realize what the "girl next door" has going for her: geographical desirability.

The reason why geographic desirability has been so underrated is because single girls have this rational, yet false belief that we are exhausting the same pool of resources in our little neighborhoods.  Every dude seems like every other dude we've dated, especially when we're meeting them all at the same bars and supermarkets, and then awkwardly running into them with the next dude we're dating at the same restaurants.  How do we escape from these homogenous confines?

Solution: we started dating outside our usual enclave.  While venturing out and exploring these new regions, we started crossing paths with more people not just from the next area code, but the next COUNTY.

In New York, Manhattanites regard the "bridge and tunnel" crowd with some disdain.  San Franciscans are repulsed by those from the "South Bay," and in Los Angeles, we don't date "the 818."  No, we're not being elitist, we're being practical.

Our physics teachers taught us this:  time =  distance/rate

And while that was helpful in calculating where Train A would meet Train B if Train A were traveling at 64mph and Train B were traveling at 70mph, they never told us about unexpected delays on the subway or traffic on the 405 or road construction on Wilshire or the protest by the federal building, and suddenly an elementary equation turns into this:

(Okay, I'm exaggerating, that's really some first-order reaction equation that I learned in chemistry class.)

So you've met a cute guy who lives a few neighborhoods away.  What's the big deal?  Well, in a city where it can take over an hour to travel seven miles, ultimately it all boils down to this:  How far would you travel for sex?

Somehow we remember why we never dated outside a two-mile radius of our block in the first place.

An example: It's 2am.  We've had five too many martinis.  We're feeling a little frisky.  Who are we gonna drunk text for a bootie call?  Cute Guy A who lives a mile down the road or equally Cute Guy B who lives in the next area code seven miles away?

Even if Cute Guy B were traveling five times as fast as Cute Guy A, Cute Guy A will have parked his car by the time Cute Guy B even puts on his shoes and finds his wallet.  We won't even consider waiting for Cute Guy C who lives in another county - a decisive buzz kill right there.

A VERY simple equation:
geographical desirability  α  1/distance  α  gratification
                                            
In a time where single girls hold instant gratification in such high regard, is it any wonder that "the boy next door" (with the worn out jeans) always wins?    

#29 Parking

It's a big night for us single girls!  We've been on a couple of dates with this guy, and he's picking us up for dinner tonight.  He made reservations somewhere swanky and told us to get dressed up!  Squeal!  While we don't mean to be a little presumptuous, it HAS been a while since we've, you know, (stage whisper) had sex, and we think he might be the one, you know, to break the dry spell.  (No, silly, not the other THE ONE.  Please?  This guy?  Pshhh.)

Our roommate is out of town, we've scrubbed the bathroom, hidden our dorky reading glasses, dusted off our nightstand, placed some matches next to the candles, checked for "supplies" in our goody drawer, and made the bed.

Tonight, the waxing, plucking, and shaving will not be done in vain. Tonight, the matching bra and panty set will make a grand debut. Tonight is the night we will get laid.

Okay, so far, so good.  We still don't think he is a serial killer, and we had an amazing time at dinner - all the more better upon switching to vodka martinis after a couple glasses of champagne.  On the way back to our apartment, he's humming along to Air Supply and we're wondering if we should be coy about asking him upstairs or just literally ask him upstairs.  (Probably the latter, guys can be pretty dense.)

As the car is making its way to our block, we think about the best way to seduce him.  Coffee, tea...or me?  Except we don't know how to make coffee, nor do we have any tea left.  Do you mind if I slip into something a little more comfortable?  Ugh, SO overdone.  Let me give you a tour of the place.  Kitchen. living room, library, bathroom AND...BEDROOM!  TAH DAH! 

Now we're stopped in front of the building, but - what is this?  There's NO PARKING???  $#@%^!

How could this be?  There are absolutely NO parking spaces?  Where does our date leave his car for a night with us, candle light, and goody drawer contents?  Our eyes scan up and down the street for a couple more seconds as we hope and pray that a parking space will miraculously materialize.  When nothing happens, an awkward pause is followed by a meek "Well, thanks again for dinner."

Dejected, we silently curse the dating gods for this severe injustice and shuffle upstairs as Heart's "Alone" plays in our head.

There is a common analogy among single girls that "guys are like parking spaces."  But isn't it hard enough finding that guy ("parking space") who is neither handicapped NOR taken (nor too small)?  Now on top of that, we need to find an ACTUAL PARKING SPACE for our "parking space"??

The paradox is this: single girls who live in big cities like to date dudes who are financially stable, who have vehicles (nice ones), who have clean driving records, and who will pick us up for dates. But then we are cockblocked by the very lack of parking spaces in our charming but trendy metropolitan neighborhoods.

Of all things, why should hooking up and getting laid be contingent on the availability of a parking space outside our domiciles?

There are clearly some easy solutions to this dilemma.  Before a date, a single girl can park her car on the street, leaving her parking space available for a "guest."  However, this may appear to be a little too contrived, some may even argue "trampy" or "desperate."  Especially if a manual garage door is involved.

Another option involves the guy taking us back to his place.  But you know how we feel about home field advantage.  Finally, a third alternative for us is to date only really financially stable dudes (aka rich guys) with drivers and limousines a la Chuck Bass.  They can't buy our love (yet) but at least we don't have to worry about parking spaces.

We can't really pass (much) judgement on that girl with a permanent "visitor parking" space available or that other girl with multiple permits for "restricted parking" on her street.  (Snicker.)  If anything, the rest of us are just a bit jealous of their situations.  Now if only we had a "20 minute parking" space available for guests.  That's the right amount of time, right?

#9 Home Field Advantage

Single girls dislike striking out just as much as we dislike foul balls, or God forbid, breaking balls.  So how do we stay ahead in the count?

Overall, home teams have won about 54% of their games since the advent of the 20th century.  Last year, home teams won 57% of their games, a 3% increase from the year before.  With so many home team wins, is it any wonder that single girls like having home field advantage?

Single girls like playing at home because our "stadium" is generally better than his.  Our facilities bathrooms are usually cleaner, and we enjoy our natural grass and a softer turf 500 thread-count Egyptian cotton bedding rather than his Astroturf mismatched sheet set.  We understand his stadium might have gotten a little worn down with so many different teams playing - it's typical of multi-purpose venues like the Oakland Coliseum.  But we would be more amenable to traveling to his stadium if he does as the New York Mets did and move into a brand spanking new place like Citi Field.

Obviously, an advantage of being the home team (other than choosing our unforms outfits) is that we generally perform better at home.  Maybe we've been comfortable enough to get to first base and have even stolen second base several times earlier in the season.  But when we're playing at home, we really like to get ourselves into scoring position.  We want to round all the bases, get that home run, earn that squeeze play, and maybe even hit for the cycle.  (Hitting for the cycle is rare, though.  It has happened only 288 times since the late 1800s, and I was lucky enough to witness this occur in person two years ago with Mark Ellis.  Yes, that's what she said.)

Being the home team is also advantageous because of our familiarity with the playing grounds.  Single girls like to wake up in the middle of the night and navigate our way to the bathroom in the dark without worrying about tripping over foreign objects.  When we are traveling as the "visiting team," we may not have the luxury of popping out of bed in the morning before he wakes up to brush our teeth, smooth our hair, and fix our eyeliner and mascara before climbing back into bed, pretending that we just naturally wake up like this and not some raccoon-eyed, disheveled bedheaded mess with dragon breath.  (A serious error, right there.)  We think it's rather unfair that boys wake up adorably rumpled.

Not having to travel is quite a luxury, especially when it takes us hours to get home from a visting team.  (It's a nightmare leaving even the parking lot at Dodger Stadium!)  And one thing single girls seriously dislike is the "walk of shame."  We don't know what is more harrowing: walking around willy nilly at 9am trying to avoid his neighbors/roommate in a short cocktail dress and 4" heels with dark circles under our eyes, or trying to sneak out of his place in the middle of the night and figuring out how to unlock his front door without waking him after we went into extra innings.

So how do single girls feel about home field advantage in the postseason?  Well, I guess that depends on who won the All Star game.

#6 Trenchcoats

In light of this "storm watch," I was inspired to write about trenchcoats. And not just trenchcoats, but what we have (or don't have) on under these trenchcoats and where we are going with said trenchcoats.

Yes, boys, single girls like to show up at your doorstep wearing nothing but a trenchcoat and lingerie (and really high heels). And you thought this was one of your sexual fantasies? Wrong! Single girls like to have fun, too. However, I believe this to be an underperformed cliche for many reasons.

Firstly, single girls don't just show up on any doorstep practically naked with only an overcoat. Oh, no. We might do this when we feel like he's deserved it - basically positive reinforcement for good behavior (there goes our psychology degrees working again). Has he been especially thoughtful/attentive/sweet? Yes? Good. We might do this when we're in a celebratory mood. Is it his birthday?/Did he just get a promotion? Yes? Good. Ultimately, he needs to earn it.

Proceeding, single girls worry about logistics. How do we get from point A to point B without literally exposing ourselves? No doubt, we will have our trenchcoats on, but single girls who live in metropolitan areas with subterranean transportation systems may opt to take taxis. Single girls with our own vehicles may choose to pack some clothes in an "emergency" bag, just in case. (Single girls like having "just in case" overnight bags in their trunks anyway.)

Next, the arrival. If he does not live alone, this poses another hurdle for us as we would prefer to show up on his doorstep without worrying about his roommate(s), or god forbid, parents answering the door. The last thing we want to be concerned with is an overly chivalrous male roommate who offers to take our coat upon entering his abode.

Even if he does live alone, we need to be 120% certain that he is in fact alone. A worst case scenario is showing up at his house on his birthday (or the day of his big promotion), almost naked under a trenchcoat, only to be greeted by the hoards of people he invited over to help him celebrate - and now we have five overly chivalrous dudes offering to take our coat. Classic Bridget Jones moment.

Who knew that arriving on his doorstep in a trenchcoat could be so difficult?

So why do we do it? Honestly, we're secretly thrilled to be almost nude running around town. Single girls like being exhibitionists (in more ways than one). We do it because once the trenchcoat comes off, that jaw-dropping, OMFG look he has on his face is so amazingly gratifying and slightly empowering.

Most of all, single girls aim to be the stuff of legends. We want to be that girl he dated who showed up at his doorstep in nothing but a trenchcoat and lingerie.

#5 Ambiguously Using the Phrase "Hooked Up"

There is an age-old belief that real ladies don't kiss and tell. But everyone knows this is complete bullshit. All girls kiss and tell, single or not-single, ladies or wenches. "Kiss and tell" is an archaic idiom that originated in the 1960s - ironically, at the height of the "sexual revolution" when "free love" was rampant and women stopped wearing bras after reading Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique.

Single girls like talking about our sexploits or complaining about our lack of sexploits. (In fact, these are two of the most popular topics for discussion amongst single girls. Well, right behind world politics and our country's gross domestic income, of course.) Most of the time, it is even our non-single counterparts who encourage us to divulge our capers and misadventures as single girls because they apparently lack the sexual melange that we have, and hope to live vicariously through us. (I say "apparently" because I find it extremely odd that having a boyfriend/spouse means you have sex even less frequently than some of us do.)

By definition, the phrase "hooking up" is ambiguous. According to The Hookup Handbook: A Single Girl's Guide to Living It Up, "hooking up" could mean anything from "making out to doing the nasty." And it is this sense of ambiguity that single girls love.

Friday night dates and Saturday night shenanigans are usually discussed over Sunday brunch. (Single girls like Sunday brunch, much like single guys like Sunday football.) Sunday is our day to confess our sins - who hooked up with whom and how.

"So what happened last night between you and Michael/Jon/Brian?"

"Nothing, we just hooked up."

"Nothing, we just hooked up" is a perfectly acceptable answer. You're probably thinking: But this could mean anything! How does she know if you kissed him, gave him a blow job, or had a threesome with him? How is "nothing, we just hooked up" not infuriatingly ambiguous?

Some moron once said that your own worst critic is yourself. Wrong. A single girl's worst critic is another single girl. Between our monthly bouts with PMS and occasionally dealing with our single girlfriends mentally judging us (passive aggression at its finest!), single girls have it rough.

Maybe nothing happened, but we don't want to come off as a prude and have our friends psychoanalyze our "intimacy issues" again. Maybe something did happen, but we don't want to look like a slut and have our friends psychoanalyze our "low self-esteem issues" again. Some single girls think they can dispense (unwanted) therapy on us since they have degrees in psychology. "Nothing, we just hooked up" is our way of avoiding that.

Or maybe it's just a coy 21st century version of "I don't kiss and tell."