Confession: My Nonexistent Dating Life, As Evidenced By Countless Side Projects

Two of many side projects.
Two of many side projects.

When single, some people sulk. Others go on a marathon of dates. I, on the other hand, whip up a plethora of side projects.

I was on the phone with a friend last night waxing poetic about an event I am planning for the end of summer when I joked, “No men, mad projects.” Since I purged my life of the last and latest dickhead two months ago, I have started writing a book, worked on a performance piece, drafted a speech, started “Shop Twenties Unscripted” (with the help of a great designer friend) and planned two events for this summer. I’ve also tried to write more consistently here. I’m not sure if there’s a direct correlation between sexual frustration and quantity of projects, but I have an inkling there may be. Ponder that, you mathematicians.

I’m always looking for new ways to write about being single. I’m always flipping the topic on its head because it’s clearly something I’m passionate about. Or, maybe this is just my life and it’s difficult not to infuse my life into these posts. When I came up with this topic, I didn’t know if there was much of a topic. In fact, I typed a few words, left my computer, returned, and still tried to figure out what the hell I was trying to say. Because, I don’t know the line between comedy and tragedy when it comes to me, my singleness, and my countless projects.

I’m always trying to strike a balance between caring for an individual and caring for myself when dating.  I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it is a balance I will learn over time.  I tend to like, lust and love pretty hard. I know. Everyone says that. But, figures of interest leave an indelible mark on me, some more than they’ll ever realize. More often than not, I’ll admit I’ve lost myself in relationships and non-relationships alike. Sometimes who I am shrinks in the midst of muscles, massages, and middle-of-the-day texts. Sometimes, I have to wake that bitch back up. It is often times in the frozen middle of that fixation that I have to remind myself of this single person–this person who is fueled by ideas, writing and creativity. 

Finding your happy place is, arguably, a lot harder when single. Yes, cue the violin. But, without immediate memories of late nights over dim lights to occupy the real estate in your head, you have to craft the avenue to your bliss much more proactively. My projects give me purpose. They aren’t just my way of busying my hands; they are me. They provide goals, channels of expression and things to look forward to.  Bodily frustrations aside, I like what I do and, more significantly, who I am when I’m single. And, it is in these rare moments of clarity that I hope and pray I can remain that same person when I’m in another relationship.



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