A Single Woman's Lament

Warning: I'm about to go on a Jaime rant. 

I've totally owned the title of single girl for awhile, but there are some times when living la vida Bradshaw can wear on you. Can we just talk about the last date I went on? I'm going to set the scene for you: the guy was super good looking, the drinks were flowing, and then he told me he thought Fidel Castro "had some valid points" [Cue Taylor Swift's "wait, what?"]. Socio-moral-political points aside, this is what my love life has come to. So, in protest of the dating scene in Birmingham and men in general post-Sinatra era, I've decided to, pardon the expression, "do me" for awhile. Until I can find a guy is single, straight, and dresses like Chuck Bass with the personality of Vince Vaughn and the charm of Alec Baldwin, I will be single. I don't understand the girls my age who settle for less simply because they want to feel a warm body next to them at night. Single and lonely are not mutually inclusive. I've been criticized for being picky or having high standards, but at least I refuse to settle into a white picket fence, 2.5 children, cookie cutter lifestyle. I'm hungry for life, I want to experience and travel the world and until I can find a man who's down to be my co-pilot, I'm cool being the wingwoman.